#but i don't want to die // rp

[songbirdreaped]

open starter for anybody ; set after lucy gray left the cabin <3 run. run. RUN. was all that could go through lucy gray's head as she sprinted away from the cabin through the trees. she was running as fast as her legs would carry her, everything in her telling her that she needed to get away from him if she wanted to survive. the words kept ringing in her head three's enough for me, he'd told her when she said they wouldn't have to kill anymore. three. she knew of two. bobbin and mayfair. all she'd asked for was the truth, yet she was met with a lie. my old self, coriolanus had told her as she demanded to know who the third was. lucy gray wasn't born yesterday, she could spot a lie from a mile away.

trust was the most important thing to her. trust outweighed love and yes, she had loved him. loved. now, all she could picture was those icy blue eyes gazing into her soul. would he kill her ? she didn't know, but she wasn't taking that chance. she couldn't take that chance. that was why she'd said she was going to pick katniss, her chance to escape and survive. lucy gray wished that she'd heeded dean highbottom's warning, wished that she hadn't let herself fall for the blond. any and all love she felt was gone, now all that was left was the need to flee.

as she kept running, the brunette felt her chest tightening, the crisp air filling her lungs, stinging as her heart raced in her chest. she needed to stop and catch her breath. ducking behind a tree, lucy gray took a moment, the breaths coming out more like gasps as she stayed there. the sound of coriolanus yelling for her caused her to panic more. she wasn't a fighter, he outpowered her anyway, but she could run. she could hide.

when she spotted the snake, lucy gray decided that she'd try to buy herself some time, dropping the scarf he'd given her to cover it up. she knew by looking at it that the snake wasn't venomous, it wouldn't hurt him too badly if he got bitten. it would just slow him down enough for her to get away. after the distraction was set, the brunette began to run again, hoping that the wind in the trees would cover up any noise that came from her feet on the ground.

it wasn't until she was hidden by a tree on the outer part of the woods that she'd realized her earring had fallen out in all of the chaos. she couldn't find it in herself to care anymore. the games weren't over when she'd returned home, these were still the games. her own survival was what mattered. lucy gray almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming toward her, but when she did it was too late to run. whoever it was had only been two paces from her now, and with how tired she was, they'd most likely be able to catch her if she ran. her eyes shut tightly as she braced herself for the figure to come closer, assuming it was coriolanus coming to kill her, to finish tying up the loose ends.

❝ just get it over with, ❞ the words came out more shaky than she'd intended. she wasn't usually one for giving up, but she knew that she had no more energy to keep running. if coriolanus had found her, then he won.

[chumbyy]

LITTLE BABY MADE 4 FUN :3

[parasitic-dreams-au]

hmm.. wait your not medkit who are you!

>:(

*Detective is looking at a missing poster with medkit's face on it, when she notices the gun on the ground talking. she doesn't even bat an eye, talking guns might as well exist at this point. she picks up the gun*

"Name's detective. say, is your owner on one of these missing posters?"

*on the missing posters are medkit, banhammer, and... for some reason... skateboard?*

[defender-of-jouvente]

Aww, don't worry about your face. It looks like you just came back from a county fair - in a good way, of course...

You'll get your revenge on stardust at some point, don't fret your little fighting head~.

Y'really think so, random stranger on the internet?

Wait, star what now?

[fourfuckinghorsemen]

Once again I cannot sleep and am plagued with boredom. 😍

[ophiocordyceps]

i want to know the scene give it to me NEOW

ok but im going into Actual Writing Mode for this rather than just Description Mode 👍👍👍👍this is half stream of conscious and half referencing the original version of this scene so it might be kind of jumbled

Backtracking through Hell is an arduous task, even with an ally or two though by Violence the layers are all but cleaned out and slowly beginning to decay.

Having chased V1 back upwards from there, the game turned into a treacherous game of cat and mouse until it leads back to where it's life as an angry ghost began.

Layer four, Greed.

The slow breakdown of the upper layers had finally reached it, an inhospitable heat from the now-dying sun reaching far into the shadows, clawing down the connection to Wrath below as the angry star above consumed the sky. This was it. It would either succeed, or die its final death trying. Its oversensitive overheat warnings were screaming at it.

V1 sees it coming, across the melted sea of gold that laps at the burning sandstone platforms below, and it knows it has nowhere to go. If it could reach the hole in the side of the pyramid it would, but the wall is just too steep, too hot, it'd be fried or cast in liquid gold before it had a chance to do anything about it.

It would give everything it had to fend V2 off, red light glinting off it's plating, off the cobalt sword it's successor had borrowed from it's new companion (who, previously, had torn away it's primary offensive arm, which V2 now sports-- ironic) but the agonizing heat would prove too much for its systems to react quickly enough to the inputs it receives and outputs it gives.

It would've never been a fair fight, anyway. There's too much anger for that now.

Even as V2 faces the same problems, it persists, nothing else mattered to it anymore (or so it tried to tell itself, over and over) but the thought of dying right back where it started terrified it to no end, it could not allow itself to fail now, as the two once identical machines stare each other down on that fateful platform, the blood baked into the shattered sandstone having been there longer than either of them.

And then it makes its move, tunnel vision blocking out the fact that V1 is practically unloading its entire arsenal into it, red being cast not only by the sun above but by the visceral hatred being expressed by the way its shattered wings burn bright, lunging forwards with the sword practically the same size as V1 itself, forcing it back further and further as the edge nicks it bit by bit, and only then does V1 realize that V2 has no plans of truly fighting--these wounds would only be caused with the intent of inflicting suffering upon an organic creature, and in the split second it's distracted by the revelation, V2 finds an opportunity to kick it's predecessor to the ground, eliciting a rare buzz of alarm from it as it drives one of the hydraulic spikes it's salvaged legs provide through its plating to pin it down.

As the two lock eyes, V2 plunges the blade through its mechanical guts until it hits the slightly-molten sandstone underneath, twisting it slowly; it can see so much of itself in V1 and it hates that, as it realizes just how large of a shadow its predecessor has cast upon its life until this very moment, stretching all the way back to even before it was constructed.

They created V2 just so the model line would stay relevant and then failed to accomplish that.

They made a war machine without war, a V-model copy without any of the things that made the first one unique. And then they couldn't figure out what to do with it.

They couldn't make another V1, so they gave up trying, left it to have to figure itself out. Its been trying to do that ever since, haunted by the mere existence of the machine it's looking down at now, as its body heaves as if breathing heavily, its fans desperately trying to pump air over it's inner workings. Blood sizzles on the stone underfoot.

It practically collapses in the process of trying to kneel down, having to use the sword in V1's guts to support itself as it takes it upon itself to begin dismembering it. It takes more than what has already been taken from it, finding it hard to think as it feels more and more like an ant under a magnifying glass. V1 can barely react, with warnings about overheating and missing components blocking out any external stimuli.

It was this close.

And then, unceremoniously, it's ripped out of its focus.

It sees where it is, it hears the sheer number of warnings screaming at it in the back of its mind. Overheat warnings, component integrity and fuel level warnings, frying to death in it's own blood under the sun of greed surrounded by bits of metal.

Briefly it forgets about finishing off V1, terrified that it really did just end up right where it started, overwhelmed by everything this place meant to it now-- but it couldn't just quit, not now.

With the last of its strength, its senses, as its hardware starts shutting down to protect itself from further damage, it takes the blade and plunges Justice down through V1's chest plating, tearing through the soft material of its heart and the vital components of its brain.

It was over. For it, and now seemingly, for her.

Its body slumped against the corpse below it as its consciousness blinked out.

It's over.

[fishedeyelenz]

*girl with horns about 13 years old comes up to Billy and shows a big piece of album paper*

Oi! Old man, check it...

*points finger at drawing*

I found some crayons in your S-S-sss-STUPID attic and I... I drew you a present!

*she's got a look of genuine amusement on her face*

It's y-you... In y-your STUPID s-s-STINKY sweater and f-f-FFFkng big ass glases and-... A-and that's me... An-...And...

*she wipes her nose with her free hand and goes on*

AND IT'S CHRISTMAS! B-because I know you LOOOOVE Christmas so I-... I brought you as a gift a... A GIANT RAT t-that I killed in-... Uh... In case we had nothing to eat but cat food again... Heh... By the way i-... I heard rats have vitamins

*excitedly pokes her finger in the white furry creature's area*

Oh, and that's Claude... An-... And the garland... See?

*pure childlike joy*

Do you like it, eh?

YOU FAH-FUCKING FREAK I TOLD YOU TO STOP GOING INTO MY ATTIC!!!

*the old man takes his broomstick which he already expertly uses to chase this darn brat off (never hitting her... at least not too painfully), but stops when he sees the sheet of paper shes holding out to him*

...Whats... that?

*Somehow, the old man keeps quiet while she explains to him her strange, but ultimately heartfelt gift. He even lets out an amused "hmmmm" when the girl shows him the rat that even he has to admit she expertly caught. He listens intently to her till she finishes her rant, while Claude rubs against his legs, purring*

*When she finally gives him the paper and ask his opinion, he just... stares at the drawing. Then after a moment that goes on for way too long, he quietly starts chuckling. The the laughter grows and grows and soon enough devolves into manic pig snorts and squealing, still mixed together with a couple of giggles. But there is no malice to his laughter*

G-god you really are... are something. *He chuckles, taking his glasses off for a moment to wipe away a stray tear* You... mmm.. really did this for me? For Billy? *there is a small dose of sentimentality to his words. He stares at the drawing for a bit, and in his eyes one can almost see... pride?*

Mmmah Piglet... it's good that you explained for me what's... what's happening here, CAUSE I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED! *he laughs at his own teasing* God,uh remind mah-me to never let you go to art school *He snorts at his own mean joke, but then it almost seems like he catches himself and regrets what he says*

*He scratches the back of his neck as he stares at the word papa that was crudely scribbled over and holds back tears*

Y...you flattered me truly, I almost didn't recognize myself with how skinny you drew me heh... I'm no way like that anymore... *He mutters something unintelligible under his breath....* Mah-maybe you're worth s-something in the end, alright... At least you m... make me laugh. *He snorts while he ruffles her hair a bit too roughly, though not on purpose*

As for the uh... Rat. Good catch by the way... *he asides* T-throw it in the fridge, I might make something with it later. *he mumbles, and it is unclear if he means it as a joke or if he's serious*

[smokedanced]

garrus as a war prisoner held by humans in a first contact war/relay 314 incident au

[loetise]

allie Could very well be doomed by the narrative and a sacrificial lamb :) But :)

[alex-is-the-king-11111]

Me when I'm about to play Mama by MCR on repeat for an hour and cry

[ofyorkshire]

GOSH. goooooooosh. watching an ep of ozark and i take it back. bj would trust ruth. and he would love her oh.

oh is it weird i see a lot of them in each other. she's much more ready to use her teeth but bj admires it. doesn't really... agree with what she does, a lot of the time, but he gets it.

the leniency he gives for people just trying to survive, man. bj would get it, and he would not hold it against her or think any less of her for it. even if he's at a point where he's trying to keep his nose clean, he'd look the other way for her. might even help her, a little, as long as it was something he believed would be a one-off and wouldn't keep him in trouble.

[parasitic-dreams-au]

ooooohhhh! :)

-miley

*Magma has a horrified look on his face, but not because of Miley.... no... more like a certain someone behind Miley with swirling eyes and looking for revenge.*

[finclgicls]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 : julia dawson, late thirties, sophia bush. 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 : inspired by manifest—basically julia was in a plane crash and disappeared for five or so years, and now that not only her, but the other passengers have been found as well, they are all coping with the fact that life moved on for their families. taking for the beginning, julia is showing up at her spouse's door and getting the real deal about how they have moved on without her. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : spouse. 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 : any gender—must be older than her since they continued aging although julia's time did not pass. please, don't like my starters ៸ let me know if you'd like a different muse.

it really didn't feel fair, did it? for her it had been hours, for them, five whole years had passed. it was a lot to swallow. a lot to accept. julia had been as in love with them as she had once she stepped away to go to that conference in boston, but they weren't anymore, were they? life had moved on, as she supposed it should, it was unfair to her to feel upset with them for trying to heal, neither of them anticipated what had happened, and neither of them could logically know that it was even possible. she was kept with the others in a facility for the authorities to run tests on them, but seeing as she was not even employed at the hospital anymore, or even had a home, it was hard knowing where she could stay now that she was thrown back into the world without consideration.

without really knowing what was next, she had let her feet guide her toward the place she knew best. the old townhouse she used to share with them. used being the operative word. she didn't want to bother, she hated being a bother, but she really had nowhere to go, and once they had opened the door, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her coat to avoid reaching out to them. it felt weird not to do it freely when in her mind, they had just done so yesterday. she looked at her feet before letting out a shaky breath. "hi—i just— i was wondering if you still had some of my stuff? clothes or something? i don't—i'm not sure where i'm crashing tonight, my sister says i can stay at hers, but i don't want to bo—" she stopped before she could do any more rambling, hand raking down her face. "sorry, i didn't mean to bother, just—" she stopped again, a sigh leaving her lips as she didn't even know what to say.

[thegardengrows-infrozenrain]

brb, bashing my head against a wall about it.

[fluxofthemouth]

Open rp || Dune setting, generic or crossover scifi/horror setting, or fantasy setting || Beta editor || Dark content, not romance-oriented || Illness tw

Something's not right.

Piter scans the room for either of the two contacts he'd been corresponding with through his network, even as a shudder of intuition tells him that they never came, and that he is in danger. There's only one person here at all, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. He's sure he's never seen them before. Something about them doesn't look right. The room doesn't look right either. it's dirty and poorly lit. Shadows pool in the corners as if the space is hoarding them. This room is not set up to be a meeting place. It's already too late, but intuition is urgently telling him to forget about the promised "negotiation" and just get the hell out of here.

If only his drive for curiosity wasn't so strong. He cautiously comes over to examine this unexpected person sitting in a chair. He gets about five feet from them before he correctly guesses the poor wretch's purpose and understands the nature of the trap that has been set.

They look ill. They aren't just sitting in the chair, they've been tied to it. They've been abandoned, left to the mercy of the Barony Piter works for and its well-earned reputation for cruelty. This is a bioweapon. What disease were they purposefully infected with? Does it spread into the air?

"W-what have you done to me," he stammers. He takes a few shuddering steps backwards and almost trips.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

This is a fandom related thing. I will say that right off the bat, but I needed a few extra opinions on this since it feels like I am alone on this.

AITA for killing off my OC in a group rp?

For some context, I (using the name Snow for myself) joined a group rp with some other people where we would come up with a plot together. Everyone would be using original characters (OCs) It was agreed that the things that happened would be voted on, but people were not allowed to control what other people did with their OCs. It is the whole "my oc, my rules" thing. For those who don't get it, it basically means that since the oc is yours, only you get to decide what happens to them.

To the story. I had plans I wanted to do with my OC. I wrote her to be someone who was secretly working for the villains and was only tricking the others into thinking she was their friend. The only other people who were aware of this were the moderators, and they had approved of it.

What was the problem then you may be wondering? Well the problem was that another member, I'll just call them Star, had said that they had gotten an emotional attachment to my OC. Which I personally found weird, so I typically tried not to be stuck alone with them.

When it came to reveal the plot twist with my oc, Star had a freak out upon finding out. They started crying and complaining that it wasn't right to do that and they could not picture "their" emotional support character doing that. The other members decided to comfort Star. They always sided with Star and acted like they were oh so special. The others were saying that this was all just a joke and that it wasn't actually going to happen. "It is just a joke right, Snow?" they had said.

And I replied with. "No. It's not a joke. My oc has been working with the villains the whole time."

Star's response was to have a meltdown over it, saying that I was out to hurt them and ruin their day. So I ended up getting a message from the moderators asking me to change my OC's backstory as to not upset Star further. They ended up telling Star that it would be changed to just having my OC be mind controlled the whole time.

This was not something I agreed with, but I pretended to play along begrudgingly. I hated that the group decided to treat my OC like she belonged to Star. But I played along and came up with my own idea. There was a plot point that came up in the rp that would have someone die off, so I took it as my opportunity to kill off my own OC. If I wasn't allowed to do what I had planned for her initially, then she wasn't going to stick around anymore.

After I killed her off, Star logged off and vanished for an entire 3 days. All the other members constantly messaged them to try and get a response from her, but they did not answer until they returned. When they logged on, they said that they had to a panic attack over what had happened and felt hurt that I would do that.

I just responded with "my oc, my rules. I quit this group." Then I quickly went through and deleted every little bit of information I had shared about my OC with that group before leaving their discord. After, I got a lot of messages from all the members, about sending the information so that Star could continue playing with my OC since she was their comfort character and it wasn't fair I was doing this to them especially after their panic attack. I said no and blocked everyone who had asked me that.

Sure I feel bad that they had a panic attack, but I felt betrayed that everyone else was willing to bend the rules for them and allow them to control my OC. Even if I no longer use said OC, I still wouldn't let them have her. This is still my property and I stand by the "my oc, my rules" thing.

So AITA for killing off my OC?

What are these acronyms?