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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years

Text

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

#ultimate note #whomst #wu xie #dmbj #the lost tomb #pingxie #iron triangle

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gwenresourced · 2 years

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INTEREST TRACKER ( NOUN ) ; tells you who wants to rp with you, who has done what is asked, gives information.

LIKE / REBLOG / COMMENT IF HELPFUL.

My ask box is always open if you need more help or even my IMs.

So the one thing I say is making this mandatory tells who is really interested in writing with you. Who has read your rules, and overall helps take out some of the guess work. This choice might not be for everyone at all but I prefer it. I don’t mind going through and filling out several trackers so that I can give everyone the best results possible on starting something up together.

I’m going to call this a tutorial but it is a guide or a what is on mine that I found was super informative for me. You can use this to build your own or even just get an idea of what one could look like. The indie world is vast and can feel overwhelming at times but this interest tracker thing helps.

Make a list (public preferred. Private is okay) of who all filled it out. Mark a number down for each person in the order they filled it out. This way you can go back to say number 8 and get their information. Easier to cross reference and get information without having to click through 7 responses just to get to the one you want. I make mine public so that way my friends don’t have to ask me “did I fill this out?” they can just look for their name on the list.

BLOG URL;

An important one to know who is filling this out. Allowing people to put several blog urls is an option that worked for me.

MUN NAME;

Some people share the same alias but that is okay. With the blog url and this mun name? You can now tell who filled this out!

MUN PRONOUNS:

Helpful to start a conversation with them. Now these can change so always check pinned post / rules page before hand if you can or try not to use pronouns at all until you can crosscheck the information.

MUN AGE:

Just a generalized thing can be overly helpful.

MUN BIRTHDAY:

Allowing people the ability to leave blank but I’m someone if I get friendly? I want to wish you a big old happy birthday on your special day. I thought this was really special and could make me stand out in a way.

TRIGGERS:

This is often in a rules page. I put it here as a fast way of okay we are plotting and I need to know this as I’m not at my computer at the moment but I have this.

NOT A TRIGGER BUT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE:

Since some people might be uncomfortable with a topic but it won’t leave them in an anxiety attack or something.

DISCORD HANDLE:

I try to add everyone in that fills this part out.

HYBRID WRITING PLATOFMRS

Some love writing on discord just as much or MORE than writing on tumblr. This allows that as an option.

COLORED TEXT:

Not everyone can read it. This gives them the option to opt out of it. This is super helpful in terms of being able to know who can’t read it and I need to change my aesthetic for them.

HARD TO READ FORMATTING:

Everyone telling you what makes it hard for them to focus. This is super helpful in terms of being able to know who can’t read it and I need to change my aesthetic for them.

WHAT KIND OF MATERIALS:

Some don’t like gifs, icons, etc to be used. This allows them the option to pick what is used.

PLOT STYLE:

Some people have a hard time plotting. I would rather know they aren’t a plotter here and just go in with the memes or something.

WRITING STYLE:

This is more writing length than anything else. I can see how much is too much for a person with ease here.

STARTER CALL OR ASK MEME.

I love memes but some people might prefer not. This tells me what is the easiest way (aside from plotting) to interact with them.

RANDOM STARTERS.

This tells me if I can write freely to this person if the muse strikes.

CAN I SEND MEMES?;

Yes or no answer. Rarely is this answer going to be a no from what I’ve found out.

HOW MANY MEMES CAN I SEND?:

Tells me how much is too much.

SMUTTING QUESTION;

Tells me who is comfortable with writing the deed and who isn’t. I put it on there even if smutting at this moment isn’t of interest because the mind could change later.

NSFW: OTHER TOPICS.

I listed some examples so people know what type of materials that I’m talking about when I ask this question.

TYPE OF BONDS:

This tells me an idea of what type of relationships the other player might be interested in

SHIPPING QUESTION;

This is different then autoshipping. I want to know if that is even remotely in your mind.

CHILDREN OF MUSES;

A question that helps if you are into next generations of canon muses.

SIBLING OF MUSES:

If one is into that sort of thing they can check yes

FACELESS / FACE CLAIMLESS ICONS

Is that okay with them?

FANDOMLESS MUSES;

Do you like original characters that have no fandom but could be put into different worlds

ANYTHING ELSE:

Tells me things about them that I might have missed.

MULTIMUSE RESPONSE:

List all muses you are interested in writing my muses with.

CHARACTER NAME, AGE, FACE CLAIMS;

You could easily just break this section up into fandoms, ask other questions like “Okay do you like this verse for this character” or anything in between. For me the biggest thing was I recast some characters. I want to be able to know who is comfortable with what face claim.

PLOT IDEAS:

They can leave a link, put down a few plot ideas that come to mind that they enjoy, etc

#MINE : indie roleplay tutorials .#MINE : all resources .#rph #rpt #rpc #rpo #rpg #rp

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ofcamerasflashing · 2 years

Text

INTEREST TRACKER ( NOUN ) ; tells you who wants to rp with you, who has done what is asked, gives information.

LIKE / REBLOG / COMMENT IF HELPFUL.

My ask box is always open if you need more help or even my IMs.

BLOG URL;

An important one to know who is filling this out. Allowing people to put several blog urls is an option that worked for me.

MUN NAME;

Some people share the same alias but that is okay. With the blog url and this mun name? You can now tell who filled this out!

MUN PRONOUNS:

MUN AGE:

Just a generalized thing can be overly helpful.

MUN BIRTHDAY:

TRIGGERS:

This is often in a rules page. I put it here as a fast way of okay we are plotting and I need to know this as I’m not at my computer at the moment but I have this.

NOT A TRIGGER BUT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE:

Since some people might be uncomfortable with a topic but it won’t leave them in an anxiety attack or something.

DISCORD HANDLE:

I try to add everyone in that fills this part out.

HYBRID WRITING PLATOFMRS

Some love writing on discord just as much or MORE than writing on tumblr. This allows that as an option.

COLORED TEXT:

Not everyone can read it. This gives them the option to opt out of it. This is super helpful in terms of being able to know who can’t read it and I need to change my aesthetic for them.

HARD TO READ FORMATTING:

Everyone telling you what makes it hard for them to focus. This is super helpful in terms of being able to know who can’t read it and I need to change my aesthetic for them.

WHAT KIND OF MATERIALS:

Some don’t like gifs, icons, etc to be used. This allows them the option to pick what is used.

PLOT STYLE:

Some people have a hard time plotting. I would rather know they aren’t a plotter here and just go in with the memes or something.

WRITING STYLE:

This is more writing length than anything else. I can see how much is too much for a person with ease here.

STARTER CALL OR ASK MEME.

I love memes but some people might prefer not. This tells me what is the easiest way (aside from plotting) to interact with them.

RANDOM STARTERS.

This tells me if I can write freely to this person if the muse strikes.

CAN I SEND MEMES?;

Yes or no answer. Rarely is this answer going to be a no from what I’ve found out.

HOW MANY MEMES CAN I SEND?:

Tells me how much is too much.

SMUTTING QUESTION;

Tells me who is comfortable with writing the deed and who isn’t. I put it on there even if smutting at this moment isn’t of interest because the mind could change later.

NSFW: OTHER TOPICS.

I listed some examples so people know what type of materials that I’m talking about when I ask this question.

TYPE OF BONDS:

This tells me an idea of what type of relationships the other player might be interested in

SHIPPING QUESTION;

This is different then autoshipping. I want to know if that is even remotely in your mind.

CHILDREN OF MUSES;

A question that helps if you are into next generations of canon muses.

SIBLING OF MUSES:

If one is into that sort of thing they can check yes

FACELESS / FACE CLAIMLESS ICONS

Is that okay with them?

FANDOMLESS MUSES;

Do you like original characters that have no fandom but could be put into different worlds

ANYTHING ELSE:

Tells me things about them that I might have missed.

MULTIMUSE RESPONSE:

List all muses you are interested in writing my muses with.

CHARACTER NAME, AGE, FACE CLAIMS;

PLOT IDEAS:

They can leave a link, put down a few plot ideas that come to mind that they enjoy, etc

#rph #rpt #rpc #rpo #rpg #rp #・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . ❝Mine: Tutorial❞ 【OFCAMERASFLASHING】#・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . ❝Mine: All❞ 【OFCAMERASFLASHING】

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bi-ressler · 3 years

Text

Coming Home [RessGale]

@skiesfallithurts requested "Coming home + RessGale" for this ask meme (still taking prompts if you want to send something in! Could take me some time though due to real life)

Title: Coming Home Relationship: Julian Gale/Donald Ressler Characters: Julian Gale, Donald Ressler, Henry Prescott (mentioned), Raymond Reddington (mentioned), others (mentioned) Words: 10.891 Setting: Post-Prescott-Arc AU Warnings: Abuse of prescription meds (aka Donnie is back on oxy and I'm not even remotely sorry), sexual assault (non-explicit, but it's being discussed), homophobia very briefly mentioned A/N: I've had this idea in my head for literal ages and thanks to the prompt I'm finally doing it! So thanks for indulging me :D Also, this got away from me (again) and turned out way (WAAAAAY) longer than it should have. Oops! - - - As always, English isn't my first language, this isn't beta'd and all mistakes are mine. Feedback is greatly appreciated :) (Also, tumblr keeps fucking up the formatting, so if the sentence breaks up in the middle of the paragraph, blame hellsite dot com.)

[Read HERE on ao3!]

__________________________________________

Falling back into old habits and unhealthy coping-mechanisms is far too easy, Donald finds. But when everything crumbles around him, and all the poorly concealed cracks and insufficiently closed gaps and holes in his armour, in his life, finally give out and leave nothing but rubble and guilt and dread, it's the only way he can think of not to fall into complete despair and drown himself in self-pity.

But maybe he's already past that point.

Maybe this is what drowning actually feels like, and there's definitely no lack of self-pity on his behalf.

So he downs the pills with a swig of beer, ignoring the fact that this feels far too familiar, far too much like coming home after a storm, soaking wet and shaking to lay down on the warm carpet and breathe for the first time.

It was all a mistake.

The last six years, it was all one big mistake and right now, he'd give everything to go back in time, erase Reddington from his mind, never join that damned taskforce that had him spiralling to this point from day one. Hell, he'd go even further, never become an agent in the first place - maybe open up a coffee shop in Detroid or become a banker or lawyer or anything at all, as long as it's as far away from Reddington and this whole mess as possible.

That way, he'd never meet Henry Prescott. He'd never murder Laurel Hitchin. He'd never let down everyone in his life, most of all himself, and Audrey would still be alive, and Julian would still be with the bureau ---

Julian.

The guilt comes back full force, because if anyone didn't deserve the fate they got, it would be Julian. Hard working, fierce, loving Julian.

He dry-swallows another pill for good measure, shoulders his go-bag and disappears down an empty alley, unseen by cameras and cops and anyone who might recognize him.

He's not sure if he can go on like this.

He's been on the run for nearly a week now; a week of hiding, paranoia, always looking over his shoulder and ducking into the shadows. Where he once felt safe when he heard the siren of a police car, he now starts running. It's exhausting and he cowers lower into the corner of the abandoned building he's staying in tonight.

Another pill. The shivers lessen. The bottle is almost empty.

He leans his head back against the cold concrete and curses his need for justice, his stupid-ass decision of accepting this life as punishment for his actions.

No, that's not right, he thinks.

If he really was after justice, he wouldn't have run. He would have faced the consequences like a man, faced jail-time and public humiliation.

Instead, he'd been crushed by his own guilt after Prescott's death, written his confession with a shakey hand and left it on his desk, before grabbing the go-bag from the trunk of his car and running.

By morning Cooper must have found it, and in the afternoon he'd seen his face on the news. He has no idea where to go from here.

He pops another pill and curses when he reminds himself to cut back and save what little of the drugs he still has left.

---

The thing about guilt is, Ressler thinks, that despite what everyone says, it doesn't lessen over the years. He still feels guilty about ruining his brother's chance of a career as a cop, and he still feels guilty about Hitchin and Wright and Prescott and every crime Reddington committed right in front of his eyes.

He still feels guilty about what happened to Julian - the first time, after that operation in Kabul went so horribly wrong and Julian took the blame for it, both of them knowing full well that Ressler had been in charge and made the decision to fire, but being stubborn enough to convince IA that it had been his fault, handing over his badge and service weapon with an unreadable look towards Don. Maybe he did it out of some twisted sense of obligation. Maybe they were just in love and compromised. But in the end Ressler's decision had cost Julian his job and a civilian his life.

And the second time, after the whole mess with Mr. Kaplan, effectively ending Julian's career as nothing more but collateral damage. He can still feel his heart crack at that look of betrayal in Julian's eyes as they stood over the remains of Mako Tanida.

---

The other thing about guilt is that Donald doesn't know how to make amends. He knows how to follow his instincts and get himself deeper into trouble, deeper into the pit of guilt, deeper into unescapable situations. Making more and more excuses, trying to cover up all of his messes with lies that lead to more excuses, more lies, more damage.

He knows it's good that he does feel guilt in the first place. But there's only so much he can take.

He thinks about everyone he has left - Reddington, Keen, Aram, Cooper, Navabi.

He could go and find Reddington, ask him to get him out of this mess he created, but he still has some dignity left (he almost laughs at that, sitting in the dirt, close, so close again to withdrawal that his chest tightens, burdened with the undignity of all the actions that led him here). So Reddington is out. He'd only get him into some deeper shit, anyway, and he can't deal with that right now.

The taskforce is out, too. They're obligated to arrest him on sight. And after doing what he did (all the dirty work for Prescott that makes him shudder and swallow back bile), he wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes. They'd know. Another thing he can't deal with.

He can't go to his family, either; getting to Detroid would be a feat in itself, but no doubt the feds are just waiting for him to make contact with his mom or brother. He doesn't want to think about them; if he just so much as imagines his mom crying over the news of her little boy's fuck-up of a life he would only break the last remains of his heart.

Sighing, he realizes he's on his own and he closes his eyes against tears that don't come. His eyes are far too dry, and yet he feels like crying; maybe he's become too numb, but not numb enough to not care. He swallows against his dry throat, his fingers flexing around the pill bottle. He's out at sea alone, the storm raging and waves threatening to bring him down, and in the darkness, there's no lighthouse in sight, not even a candle in the window of someone who might take pity on him. He's bound to drown.

---

The next day, he runs out of pills as well as luck. He hears the shouting before seeing what's going on, and he doesn't need to round the corner to know that the cops are arresting his dealer; he hears his name. They're not after the poor sod for his arsenal of prescription-meds, they're after him. He turns around and doesn't stop running until his lungs burn and his feet ache.

---

He finally collapses behind an old factory that's been out of use seemingly forever. He vaguely remembers it from a case so many years ago, when everything was still fine and he still had dreams and hopes and Reddington hadn't crossed his way yet, Julian already by his side, Prescott a name he had no business knowing.

He remembers some nondescript arms dealers hunched over their merchandise, duffels with a ton of dollar bills and a short shoot-out that ended with the perps in cuffs and a brilliant smile from Julian. Although he couldn't see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, he knew the twinkle in them that told him everything he needed to know.

How the fuck could he fuck up something so good?

It doesn't matter now, though. He slides down the rough walls, and a shiver rips from his spine, rocking his entire body, until it gets stuck in his hands and they can't stop trembling. Every movement hurts deep in his bones, and the shaking only makes it worse until he feels sick to his stomach and feels the bile rise.

He closes his eyes, and now the tears come.

He lets all the shame and hurt and fucking guilt wash over him, drown him until he is gasping for air, remembering --- remembering all the roads he shouldn't have taken, remembering every time he allowed Prescott to shove his dick down Donald's throat, the blood of some stranger still on their hands and clothes, and Ressler can't keep it in anymore. His stomach convulses and forces its few contents out, spattering on the dirty ground, acid in his aching throat that still remembers Prescott's assaults.

He remembers Prescott's laugh and the grip of his hand leaving bruises on his arms. He remembers burying bodies of people he knew nothing about, for a man who could be his downfall with no more effort than twitching a finger.

Ironic, how that still happened and Ressler has just reached rock-bottom while still having done everything Prescott had demanded. A fucking lose-lose-situation. Ressler would like to laugh about the stupidity of it all (of himself), but it gets stuck somewhere between his chest and vocal chords. He can never go back.

He'd always thought it would be Reddington who'd ruin him. He was wrong.

---

With the onsetting darkness comes the cold; it's the end of summer and the days are warm enough, but the nights take all the warmth and replace it with cruel emptiness and too many thoughts.

He remembers all the times their hunt for Reddington had gone wrong; all the times they'd run into another dead end; all the times an informant ended up dead --- all the times he would crawl into Julian's bed or Julian in his and they'd hold each other, seek solace and comfort and hope and the strength to move on in each other's arms.

He remembers Julian's lips on his and how, for these few moments, he'd want nothing more and could forget the job. He remembers skin on heated skin, and whispered platitudes that in that moment felt like a lifeline, and falling asleep with limbs entangled, sheltering him from nightmares and fatalistic thoughts.

He misses it. Misses it more than anything else, and it's the first time he acknowledges this feeling. He'd missed Julian for years; and then he was back again, back in that ice rink, looking at him like nothing had happened, like he still didn't blame Donald for all the shit that had happened. Maybe he really didn't. Maybe the guilt for all of that had been for nothing.

And then Julian was gone again and this time it would be irreversible. Like a lost limb, he feels his absence.

Shivering, he stares at the darkness around him, and all he wants is those strong arms around him and the scent of leather and aftershave and the scratch of Julian's stubble against his own.

He can never have that again. He doesn't deserve it, and Julian sure as Hell won't forgive him. Not for ending his career and certainly not for working with Reddington and turning a blind eye to the crimes he committed under their watch. He wouldn't even want to touch him again with all the dirt and blood on his hands from working for Prescott; wouldn't want to kiss the same lips that suffered the abuse of a ruthless killer and had swallowed it like he deserved it.

Because the truth is, maybe that's what his life has become: an unescapable, unforgivable Hell, all the pictures of what he'd done burned into his brain, behind his eyelids, on his skin where the bruises have long since faded but the dirt still remains. And maybe that's exactly what he deserves.

He crumbles under his thoughts until he lies on the ground, a shivering, hurting mess that's overflowing with guilt and self-loathing.

Julian always used to kiss it away.

---

How, when and why Donald has decided to walk up that road into the woods is lost on him.

He used to know this road, been here a few times but not in several years; it seems unchanged exept for the sky that looks a bit duller. He never walked this path before, but he didn't want to steal a car. Wouldn't know where to dump it here anyway.

He knows it's probably a dumb idea, but he's out of options by this point.

Every step is hard work and his knees are about ready to give out, shaking under the strain of carrying him for miles and miles, and even in the chilly shadows of the surrounding trees he's sweating like it's a hundred degrees out. Another shiver runs through his body that feels like it's crushing every bone on its way, and he moans as he gasps for breath.

He knows though if he stops he'll never get up again. He'll never reach the old cabin in the woods by that small lake, and he'd die by the side of the small, muddy road. He's not ready for that, though.

---

It's late afternoon when he gets off the main road and takes the small footpath that leads to the cabin in a few hundred yards. The sun is much hotter now and although he can feel her warmth on his skin, he feels cold and clammy and miserable, fighting shiver after shiver and losing hard.

All he wants to do is curl up into a tight ball and die, but he's not gonna give up, not now, even though he knows that he's making a massive mistake here, but he doesn't care. It's like he's too far gone to acknowledge that fact and all his common sense has left him along with the contents of his stomach last night; he can't shove it back and, frankly, what does it matter? He can't fall any deeper.

So he stumbles on, struggling over rocks and branches, his feet numb except for the occasional flare of pain that still reaches his brain and he can't quite manage to shut out.

Then it comes into sight and he breathes out, a pained, wheezing sound that makes his head spin, and suddenly he feels sick because he knows he has made the wrong decision; he should go. He should turn around and collapse by the road and wither away like a fallen leaf.

The cabin is still like he remembers it from years ago; it belonged to Julian's father before he'd died, a nice little place far out in the woods that's perfect for a weekend-trip. Julian used to tell him stories of coming here with his dad to fish and hunt, back in the day before everything had turned to shit between them, before he came out as gay and his father stopped talking to him altogether.

He knows Julian is here; he's seen the old Ford parked by the road close to the small footpath. He also knows he's not welcome, just as he knows that he won't have anything left if Julian rejects him and throws him back onto the street he came from.

Feeling his knees wobble, he pushes on before he can give in to the seducing urge to let himself fall to the ground and curl up to die. He can still do that afterwards.

Another few steps and he's around the cabin where he can see the small lake, a pond really, with the wooden terrace right by the water; on it stands a deserted deck chair, but the bottle of beer that sits right next to it is still half-full, so Julian must be back any minute.

He leans heavily on the wall of the cabin and feels his strength bleed away. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and along his nose as he lets his head fall, the strain in his neck too much for his muscles to hold it up anymore. Catching his breath is difficult when his lungs don't want to take in any much needed air and his chest feels too tight, like the collar of his dirty white t-shirt is strangling him, and he raises a violently shaking hand to his chest, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he does so.

Shit, this is worse than he'd thought. The hand that isn't clutching his shirt automatically wanders towards his pants pocket. It's empty. Of course it's empty. He's out of pills. He panicks at that because how in the world is he supposed to survive ---

when he hears a gun cock and forces himself to look up into Julian's face.

He looks good - always does - and his stubble is almost a beard now; his hair has grown too and Donald just wants to breathe it in. He wears sunglasses (of course, it's still bright outside and his eyes are just so damn sensitive), and his brow is deeply furrowed, his mouth a thin line that tells Donald just how welcome he is here.

"Don?", he asks, voice raspy like he hasn't spoken in a long time. Maybe he hasn't, but Ressler isn't naïve enough to blame any emotion for the roughness.

"Hey", he says, and he feels the world sway from the effort of holding himself up, so he grabs for the wall again, temporarily borrowing stability from the wooden structure. He doesn't even want to know how awful he must look, all sweaty and dirty and miserable, shaking and fighting just to keep standing.

"What do you want?", Julian asks, words hard and the gun still pointed at Ressler.

He looks at Julian, helpless to say anything, devoid of all words, and he realizes he doesn't know how to answer that question. He opens his mouth in the hopes of being able to bring out anything at all when a shudder runs through his body, leaving him breathless and on the ground. For a second all he knows is the pain of too much and too little at the same time that grinds his bones to dust and cuts through his muscles effortlessly. He thinks he groans in pain, but can't tell over the static in his ears.

"Fuck", he hears at the edge of his consciousness, "Don!"

And when he looks up, Julian is gone from where he stood before, instead there are arms steadying him from face-planting into the muddy ground. He leans heavily into those arms that promise comfort and solace and strength.

"Julian", Don rasps out, and he looks up to see Julian close, so close, worry visible even behind the sunglasses, and he has to close his eyes as a rush of emotion threatens to overcome him. This is it. This is all he wanted.

"Don't talk now, okay? I'm callin' an ambulance." And that's wrong. He can't do that, Ressler can't go to the hospital, not when he's on every wanted-list in the city ---

"Don't", he whispers and swallows against the bile. Julian looks at him like he's lost his mind, but there's still so much worry. "Don't", Donald repeats. He doesn't know how else to communicate this.

"Okay", Julian says flatly, still sceptical. "You mind tellin' me though why the fuck you're here?"

Ressler looks away, tries to ignore the black dots that creep into his vision.

"I'm sorry", he says, and he means it. Hopes that Julian understands, because Ressler doesn't know if he has the strength or the words to really explain himself here. "I didn't know where else to go."

Julian just nods, waiting for him to continue while Donald shivers in his arms and doesn't know how to go on.

"I fucked up", he finally says, and Julian laughs at that; a humorless, dry laugh that settles itself deep into what's left of Don's bones, a laugh that sends waves of guilt through his chest. He looks to the ground and tries not to break down under the weight of it.

"Yeah, you did", Julian says and there's an edge to his voice that's dangerous and hurt and speaks of everything Ressler has put him through. "And I'm really fucking close to tell you to go to Hell."

His eyes burn holes into Donald's skin until he's sure that Julian must be able to see his insides now, the rotten flesh and the dirt and the blood and all the shame and guilt he's never gonna be able to wash away.

"Not gonna do that though. Seems like you're already there."

Don lets his head fall and at this point he can't tell sweat from tears or blood or vomit or dirt; it's all there on his skin, whether remembered or real he doesn't know. All he knows is that it's disgusting, he's disgusting, he's dirty and has done unforgivable things and yet Julian is still holding him up, still touching him --- His head drops and he closes his eyes against the spinning world.

"C'mon", Julian says quietly, "let's get you cleaned up. You look like you could need a drink too, something to eat. And then you're gonna tell me what's going on before I change my mind. You alright with that?"

Donald just nods. At least he thinks he does.

He feels Julian's grip tighten, and together they manage to get Donald on his feet; he sways unsteadily, but Julian's hands are still there, grounding him against the nausea, keeping him from falling over as he clenches his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness and pain that rips through him.

"Hey, wait", he blurts out when Julian nudges him to move. "You don't - you don't have to do this, Julian. I won't blame you if -", he takes a deep breath, trying to organize his blurry thoughts, "- if you... y'know. Wanna throw me out on the street. Let me rot."

Julian looks at him long and hard, his face unreadable, and Donald wonders when that changed. He used to be able to read him flawlessly, back in the day.

"I know", he says eventually, "and believe me, I have every reason to, but... let's just get inside 'n' sort this out, yeah?"

He nods.

The inside of the cabin looks exactly the way he remembers it from the few times Julian has taken him here. Cozy and warm, soft light through the small windows, wooden table in the middle of the room - with all kinds of stuff on it, bottles and tools and newspapers - surrounded by self-made wooden chairs; it's only one room, and in the corner is still the old bed with the worn through mattress that he remembers very vividly (it's softer than it looks, the pillows under his hips fluffy, the scent of whiskey from Julian's lips and resin from all around him filling his senses ---) Julian drags him to the bed; Don is glad that Julian keeps his hands on his shoulders for a few more moments. He doesn't trust his body to sit on its own and not fall over. He takes a few deep breaths - the smell of whiskey and resin still lingers in the cabin and if he closes his eyes, he might be able to pretend nothing has happened and he's back to when all was good. He doesn't close his eyes. Needs the punishment of seeing an older version of Julian and that glimmer in his eyes that betrays the cold anger he tries to project. In here, it's easier reading him. The sunglasses have landed on the table in the mixture of things, and breathing is just that much easier now. Funny how brown eyes can have that effect on him. Or maybe it's just Julian's eyes. "You okay? Or are ya gonna topple over as soon as I let go?", Julian asks. His hands burn where they touch Ressler's shoulders - even through the shirt - and he feels like their heat is spreading all the way through his arms, mending his broken bones with a painful grip that makes him gasp. "It's alright", he says. His voice sounds strange, somehow distorted and raw, and when Julian lifts his hands it's like ice fills all the places that were on fire just seconds before, crushing him, burning even worse. He bites his lip. "'Kay", Julian murmurs, and then he turns around to get a bottle of water and --- and he opens up one of the cabinets and pulls out a small, brownish-yellow pill bottle --- his heart is beating so fast now he thinks he might throw up, and every fibre in his body screams Want! Want! Want! --- his muscles pulling on him, willing him to move, to get to the pills, down them all, swallow them, no regrets, make the trembling stop and the sweating and the shivers, undo the damage to his body, unbreak his bones, untear his sinews --- His mouth falls open. He can already feel it: the texture and the form of the little white pill against his tongue, the short moment when he swallows, the high he's chasing - no, no, it's not that anymore, it's never been that; it's always been about numbing the pain until it wasn't, until it was just about avoiding the come down. But right now he can feel the high, the anticipation, being so close to victory --- "Don?" And he wants to tell Julian to shut up, to just give him the pills, but he's the one who holds the bottle, he has the power in this moment and fuck, Ressler would do everything, anything, get on his knees or on all fours and just take it (flashes of Prescott assault his mind at that, and he gasps audibly because Julian is not Prescott, far from it, and he just wants his brain to shut the fuck up, to stop, knowing the pills will do that, they'll fucking save him from his own thoughts) --- "Hey, man - what's going on?" It's Julian's voice again, so much nearer now, burning hot hands holding him together as Donald crumbles. He collapses like a frail burning building, the last beams that were holding it together now nothing more than a pyre of grief and lost hope. He trembles against Julian's chest, his hands clinging to Julian's shirt, hurting from the exhaustion of cramping around the scratchy material but unable to let go, his head tucked under Julian's chin where he crouches in front of Donald on the floor. He wants to cry or to scream or to lash out, but all the energy he has left is unfocused, is mainly the never ending chant of Want! Want! Want! beneath his skin. "Fuck", he grinds out, and it's the hardest thing for him right

now, but he has Julian's arms around him and can feel his lips in his hair and smell leather and aftershave and --- Julian hasn't let him go yet. He hasn't pushed him away yet; is still touching him, unafraid, not yet disgusted. Then again, he doesn't know what Donald has done. "Hey, hey", Julian breathes against Ressler's temple, "it's okay, Don, it's - it's alright. It's gonna be alright..." Don shakes his head, takes a stuttering breath. "It's not, it's -", he starts, and his hands shake so hard now he's afraid of hurting Julian, "it's all gone to shit, okay? Nothing's alright, and - it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Julian, just ---" He doesn't know what he's saying, only that he needs to get it out. He needs to let Julian know how sorry he is, how much he wishes he could go back and do it all differently, how much he wants Gale to be happy. "Easy", Julian whispers, and now his hands are stroking up and down Don's spine and he feels like a child, but also safer than he has in a long time. This, right here, is his shelter in the storm, a place to wait out the worst of it before he can go home. Only that he doesn't know where home is anymore. Not that it matters. He has his self-imposed punishment to serve. They sit there for a while, until Ressler's breathing is less ragged and his body is limp with exhaustion and his hands uncramp around Julian's shirt. "You need to drink something", Julian says, his voice far too soft, and somewhere deep inside of him Ressler just wants Julian to yell at him, to beat him, to show him exactly how he's felt the last couple of years. Let out all the anger and frustration and disgust he must be feeling. Add his loathing to the pyre burning away at Donald's insides. Julian shuffles away, keeping one steadying hand on Ressler's shoulder, the other reaching for the glass of water he must have put on the ground besides him when Donald collapsed. "Here", he murmurs and holds the glass up to Don's lips. Donald doesn't even try to take it from him, his trembling hands trapped between his thighs. The water is refreshing and he's sure he could drink an entire river - his mouth and throat aren't longer as dry, his heaving stomach slowly settles, his over-heated skin seems to cool a little. When the glass is empty, Julian sets it aside and takes a hard look at Don. "Better?", he asks. Behind the hard, cold glare his gaze is so open, so vulnerable now that Don has to look away. "Yeah", he nods. "Thanks." He doesn't know where Julian has put the pill bottle, but it's probably back in the cabinet. There's no way Julian could have misinterpreted Donald's behaviour. "So." Donald looks up again. He can still feel the sweat on his forehead, on his neck, chest, everywhere, but now it's cooler, and if the temperature keeps dropping as quickly he will surely freeze to death. He doesn't know though if it's the change of seasons or his own body. "Guess I owe you an explanation", Donald murmurs. He's tired suddenly, so tired he can feel it in his bones. Like he's two hundred years old, an ancient tree about to die. "You bet your ass you do." With that Julian gets up off the ground, refills the glass, sets it on the table and sits down next to Donald on the bed. He sits further away than he used to, the gap between them like a fucking canyon that Don could throw himself in to to break every bone in his body yet again, for the last time. He won't though. He owes Julian that much. "So?", Julian asks when the silence stretches too long. But Donald doesn't know where to start, doesn't even know what to say except for I'm sorry and forgive me and I love you. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again, his heartbeat picking up its pace, beating uncomfortably against his too tight ribcage. "I'm sorry", he begins, and when he looks at Julian, his face is impassive and schooled. He expects more. Of course he does, Donald thinks, and he deserves it, deserves more, deserves everything. He's just not sure he can give that. "I ruined your life", he says. Looks down at his hands and how

they shake where they're trapped between his knees. "Again", he adds and the corner of his mouth twitches in a humorless attempt at a smile. "You should never have paid for what we - what I did. The whole Reddington-thing. I justified it with all the good we did, all the cases we solved, the criminals we put behind bars, but... you were right. The price was too high. It was doomed from the start... All the people who died, Julian, all those good people --- I don't know if it was worth it." He looks up into Julian's face. It's not as passive and unreadable as before; now there's a glint of pity, a tiny spark of anger, the smallest sign of resignation. "And - and to think I betrayed all my principles for that taskforce. All I ever stood for - wanted to stand for. Fuck, I'm... I just... I just wanna go back, Julian. I just wanna start over. Forget about - about Reddington and Prescott and Hitchin and - Audrey. Fuck, Audrey... I should have known then. I should have quit back then." He buries his face in his hands. There are no tears, but the shame that's crawling up his spine and spreading through every inch of his body is threatening to overwhelm him. "What happened to her?", Julian asks quietly, his voice impossibly soft. He knows about them. About their far too early engagement, about the stubbornness with which Donald had tried to love her just to get over the fact that Julian was gone from his life. About his need to prove that he was okay. "She's dead. She was killed. She'd still be alive if it wasn't for Reddington." "I'm sorry", Julian says after a moment of silence. He sounds genuine, even though Ressler knows how Julian feels about Audrey. Or used to feel, anyway. And now, Donald doesn't know what else to say. Knows there's so much, too much to talk about, but he doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell Julian about Hitchin and Prescott and those brief moments with Reddington - in the box and in a hotel room in Washington and the whole long flight from Munich back to the states. Donald takes a deep breath; it's not like that makes any difference because his lungs still seem incapable of taking in enough oxygen for him to survive. How he's still conscious, he doesn't know, but it's probably just his mind playing tricks with him. And all the while, Julian looks at him with patience that's bordering on resignation, and sadness he might be mistaking for grief about the people they could have been. The love they could have shared, the lives they could have lived. All those things Ressler never gave himself time to grieve for, but are returning with a vengeance now, cutting him up, sucking him dry, suffocating him in their thick reality. "I deserved it", he finally croaks, his voice strangled by everything he's lost, and he clears his throat. "Everything I got in the end, I deserved it." He stares at his hands that are trapped between his knees, feels them tremble, and when he looks back up at Julian, the other man is suddenly closer than he was before. The canyon between them is nothing more than a crack in the pavement now, their legs not yet touching, Julian's heat a welcome comfort against Don's clammy pale skin, and it still feels like it's not enough, like nothing he could do could ever be enough, and as much as he detests the thought that this might be the closest Julian will let himself get to Don, he also revels in the almost-touches and the dark gazes and the fact that this, too, is something he painfully deserves: the one person he never stopped loving to be entirely unreachable. He thinks back to the good times and how easy it was to just reach out and take any comfort he needed. The sleepless nights in those dingy motel rooms they spent staring out the window at the starry sky or at each other, the moments of warmth and solitude, bodies wrapped around each other like they're one, soft breath in his ear, dry lips on skin, rough fingers entangled, squeezing, comforting. Thinks back to that night in Manila, when Julian stood before Donald's door at three in the morning, dark bags under

his eyes, arms wrapped tightly around his chest to prevent him from falling apart; later it would be Don's arms holding him together. Thinks back to that morning in New York that should have been entirely unpleasant with the stink and the broken heater in the middle of January and the noise even so early, but with Julian's sleeping form next to him - so peaceful and full of beauty -, he wished it could always be like this. He doesn't think back to the time they said goodbye, or the time Julian almost died from a bullet in his stomach, or the countless times they sat at each other's hospital beds. He doesn't think about the last time they kissed, the last time they made love, the last time they hugged, the last time there wasn't this edge to Julian's voice that tells Donald that things will never be the same. He certainly doesn't think about the future. "And what is it you got? What is it you think you deserve? 'Cause I see you sitting here like, like death warmed over and I can't imagine what the Hell you could've done to deserve... well, this." Julian's voice is rougher than usual; Donald doesn't know if it's because of the emotion he swallows so successfully or because he's smoking more than he used to or because this is the first time in a long time that he's speaking to somebody. Donald draws in another sharp breath. His lungs aren't exactly cooperating, but it doesn't matter as long as he can still explain. "I think I need some air", he says, voice barely more than a whisper. He sees Julian nod out of the corner of his eye, and together they manage to walk outside. It's weird, a little, how much better he feels and how much easier it is to talk, to move, to breathe, ever since arriving in the cabin. Just a few hours ago he was almost certain he'd be dying in a ditch right about now. It's gotten dark outside; the sun hasn't disappeared fully yet, but through the trees that surround the cabin and the pond it's impossible to make out. Julian sits him down in the deck chair Donald had noticed earlier, the opened bottle of beer that's still sitting beside it now forgotten. Don takes a deep breath. It's easier now, out here. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Julian setting up a second chair next to the one Donald is sitting on. They both lean forward, elbows on their knees, Ressler's head hanging, Gale watching him with sharp eyes. Donald shakes his head; to think how easily all this could have been avoided! If he hadn't taken the job with the taskforce, none of this would have happened. Or if he'd been honest sooner, if he'd talked to Julian when the whole Mr. Kaplan-mess started instead of betraying him --- "That, right there, what you just said, is why I love you." He can still hear those words loud and clear in his head, recalling that moment with absolute clarity even if most of his other thoughts and memories are blurry from exhaustion and pain. The way they just came over Julian's lips, so simple, so easy, like they were picking up from where they'd left, still sends goosebumps over his arms and back; he remembers the painful tightening of his chest back then, and his mind going completely blank, and deciding to overplay his nerves with a lame joke and getting back to work as quickly as possible. He remembers hope bubbling up in the back of his ribcage, and laying awake that night overthinking those words. Overthinking the whole situation while pushing away his guilt. He hated lying to Julian then, and he hates where it has gotten him. He remembers cursing Julian's mind, always so quick and clever, and he remembers cursing Reddington time and time again. He purposely doesn't remember all the times he thought about the Concierge instead of Julian when he was alone in his bed. It feels like another betrayal all over again. And he remembers being on the verge of asking how much truth lay behind Julian's words more than once but always pulling back at the last second. Maybe he'll never know, now. "Don?" He remembers that he needs to talk. His mind feels almost bruised by the

onslaught of memories ever since he's seen Julian for the first time in so long. "Yeah. Sorry." He takes another deep breath, now easier out here, and leans back in his chair, tired eyes focusing on the patches of darkening skies through the crowns of the trees. A sense of tranquility fills his whole body and the shivers cease to shake him. "You were right about Mako Tanida. His head. Reddington - Reddington gave it to me as a gift." He closes his eyes for a second and sees the severed head in the box as if it happened yesterday instead of almost six years ago. He shudders and opens his eyes again, back to watching the gentle breeze shifting through the leaves and branches. He doesn't look over at Julian. "Some sort of... sick compensation for Audrey's death." He pauses at that, thinking back at Audrey and how he barely remembers her face now even though he knows he should. It gives Julian time to piece it together. He doesn't say a word though, intent on letting Donald speak. "It makes me sick now. But that's Reddington, you know? He lulls you in and there's nothing you can do about it. -- Objectively, I knew what we were doing, and I was justifying it with all the high-profile arrests we did. But... I don't know, man, he was under my skin and I only realized it when it was too late. He's like this... spider. Sucks you dry as soon as you're caught in his net. And it doesn't stop until someone worse comes along and ---" He stops speaking then, dropping his head, unable to find the words to convey Prescott's cruelty, his depravity that became Donald's own. A hand on his shoulder makes him look up; Julian is watching him, his gaze a strange mix between a cold distance and warm empathy. "What happened?", he asks. As if his hand doesn't burn Don's flesh where it touches him over his shirt, as if he doesn't know the repercussions of this gesture, as if he can't even imagine what it means to Don that he's touching him out of his own accord, not yet fleeing, not yet disgusted, but full of love and comfort and everything Donald doesn't deserve. They stay quiet for a short while, Don watching how the cold distance transforms to something new, something like pity, but not exactly. Maybe curiosity with a touch of sadness. Like he wants to hear the answer and doesn't. Like he wants to know what made Don come here but doesn't want to hear it. Like he knows it could change everything between them, all the anger he's been carrying with him since the ice rink-case melting away, leaving only the torn pieces of his old love. "Laurel Hitchin", Donald says quietly. Another shiver runs through his body as he feels Julian's hand falling away. They're silent again; Don trying to figure out how to confess a murder and all the shit that followed it, and Julian thinking about how Hitchin might as well have fired him. She may have been an awful person, but she didn't deserve to die. In Don's experience, there's no one who deserves to die; at least that used to be his opinion. He's not so sure about it now. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but that's where they stay. He can't push them over the edge, can't make his vocal chords work and his lips form the vowels and consonants. He tries in vain, again and again, until Julian is looking at him again like he knows Donald's struggle. "She's dead", Julian says, tone neutral, and Don can't read from it how much Julian knows or at least suspects. He nods. Remembers her laying on her kitchen floor, pool of blood growing larger second by sickening second. "I didn't mean to ---", he stammers, and Julian's eyes grow wide like he didn't expect this confession. "Shit", he breathes and rubs a hand over his face. It stops over his mouth and chin and he looks straight ahead into the darkness that has settled around them like their own private bubble where there's room for confessions and guilt and maybe even forgiveness; room that the bright sun of the day doesn't allow. "That's why you're such a mess? Jesus, Don,

I ---" But he doesn't continue. Donald doesn't want to hear another I'm sorry from Julian, and he doesn't want to hear that he's fucked up either. He just wants to forget. "It gets worse", he says and Julian looks up, surprise and pain and dread lining his features, and he suddenly looks much older than he is. Still beautiful, and Don has to swallow against the sudden feeling of belonging that rises in his chest; like he's home, like this has been his home all along, and it will be until they're old and grey and dying of old age in each others' arms --- only that it's a fantasy, a feverish dream he's having. Before Don can continue though, Julian stands up and disappears inside the cabin without another word. He can't blame him. With a sigh he stays where he is, watching the sky again that's now completely dark, and he doesn't know if he isn't actually watching the invisible dance of the trees. His mind is completely blank now and it's a more than welcome change. Before he knows it, Julian is back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Wordlessly, he gives one of the already opened bottles to Don who takes it with only slightly shaking hands, then sits back down, takes a gulp of beer, puts it down on the ground beside his chair, and takes a cigarette out of the pack. He offers one to Don but he declines with a shake of his head. The small flame of the lighter makes Julian's face flicker orange and yellow, the shadows making the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth dance and seem deeper than in the light of day. For the few seconds it lasts, he looks almost angelic in a rough, strange way. "I called the cleaner who used to work for her", he says before he can think about it. "His name's Henry Prescott." The smell of burnt tobacco lulls him in, like they're back in Julian's old apartment, in his bed after an evening of slow sex, bliss and heavy limbs and soft words forever interlinked with it. It almost makes the bile that's threatening to rise after the mention of Prescott's name stay down. Julian's eyes are on him again, calmer now, but also more distanced than before. Don can barely make them out through the dark of night, but from experience he knows Gale won't say any more. He needs all the facts, and Don's the only one who can provide those. He looks back to where the lake must be, now an invisible black hole between the equally black woods. He thinks it must be easy now that he's started, but the words won't come, his mind preoccupied with keeping the images at bay, the memories of dead bodies and blood and the smell of bleach and ammonia. He closes his eyes for a minute, the shivers returning, rocking his body against his will, and he's going to be sick if the stink of chemicals doesn't leave his nose soon --- He wishes Julian would touch him again, ground him somehow like he used to, but he doesn't. Don doesn't look up either. He needs to carry on. "He found out who I was", he says eventually, strangled, struggling to keep talking. "Blackmailed me into working for him." He rubs his free hand over his face, pressing down over his eyes to get rid of the images and the smell, and for a moment it's like Julian isn't even there, like he's not listening, like Don can say anything he wants to the dark emptiness he's surrounded by. He takes a few gulps of the beer but doesn't set it down. "Fuck, I --- the things I did. The shit I was forced to do and I, I didn't even fight it. I was too afraid to - I don't know, lose my job, my reputation, my friends", it breaks out of him now, and a laugh forces its way through his constricted throat at the irony of the words. He feels Julian shift next to him, reminding Don of his presence, but he doesn't turn to look at him. "I did every fucking thing he told me to. Drove around dead bodies in car trunks. Buried and unburied them. Scrubbed blood off walls and carpets and beds. --- How the fuck can anyone forgive me for that? How can you?" He takes another large sip of the beer, now risking a glance at

Julian. His cigarette has almost burnt down completely, leaving a tail of ash threatening to fall onto Julian's lap; he hasn't taken a drag since Don has started speaking. Instead he's looking at Donald, almost staring through him, and Don doesn't know what to make of that. He doesn't think he's ever seen that expression on Julian. "I should never have come", he says curtly because he can't face the silence now. "I'm sorry. I should never have -- I guess I know now that I deserved it." The calm that settles in his bones surprises him. He looks back up to the sky, clear and beautiful where it shines through the trees, and now he can make out tiny bright dots, stars spattered across it like the splashes of watercolor over paper when he was a kid. He can feel tears behind his eyes and he knows this is the last time he will be home. Knows it's the last time he gets to feel something other than guilt and dread. Maybe he should get up and leave now, having done enough damage as it is, but something inside him urges him to stay, to tell Julian the whole truth, make him understand. He needs Julian to tell him to fuck off; needs his rejection to be at peace and go home. Somewhere, anyway. "He didn't stop there", he says, and he knows it's his only chance to ever articulate it; if he doesn't say it now he'll be silent forever. Besides him, Julian tenses. He's been tense for the last couple of minutes, but now his back is straight in a way that it almost never is, but Donald needs to get those next few words out. He feels strangely detached from his body and mind and memories. "Sometimes he would force me on my knees, make me suck him off", he starts, and it's easier to say it out loud than it should be, "and sometimes he would bend me over the hood of the car or tie me to the bed post in whatever hotel he'd stay in. I took it every time. I thought I didn't have a choice." And he's smiling now, the weight on his shoulders, his lungs, his mind so much lighter, and he doesn't even mind the trembling of his hands, of his whole body. He just lets it happen. "Until my conscience finally made me put a stop to it. I arrested him. Wrote my confession. And left. But I'm still too much of a coward to face the consequences, instead I'm running from everything." He lets his head fall. This shouldn't be this easy, he tells himself, but then again, with Julian nothing is as it should be. "Swallowing one pill after the other, sleeping in the mud, always looking over my shoulder. That's no life. That's - that's Hell, Julian." Finally, he looks back at his old love, a flood of emotions racing through him like a tsunami, and he chokes out: "I deserve it. All of it. What Prescott did to me. I gotta live with it. I'm ---" But the words die on his lips as he feels Julian's arms around his neck, and hot breath against his ear, and fingers tangling in his hair. He stops breathing for a few seconds, brain catching up with the sensations, and Julian is embracing him like he knows it's the last time, or like he's sorry, or like his life depends on it. "Just so you know", Julian rasps against Don's cheek, "I really fucking want to punch you right now. I wanna - wanna throw you against the wall and just - punch you until I can't move my arm anymore. Okay? Got that?" Donald nods silently, still stunned by the sudden embrace. He didn't think Julian would ever want to touch him again, wouldn't even want to be near him again. "No one", Julian says, "No one - deserves shit like that." And then he stammers like he wants to say every word he knows at the same time while simultaneously not knowing what to say altogether, before giving up with a hissed "Fuck". Don knows this, knows that sometimes, Julian's brain is faster than his mouth, and then he stumbles over words like an excited child. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, huh?", he asks quietly, still not letting go, and now Don puts the bottle down and returns the embrace. Carefully, very carefully, like he might freak Julian out, like he might realize then what he's doing and

drop Donald like a hot potato. Donald shakes his head no; doesn't want to be dropped, not now, not when he's this close to Julian; shakes his head because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do now either. The idea that's been in the back of his head, whose existence he completely ignored until now, that's probably the reason he came here in the first place, creeps into his consciousness now, and his grip around Julian's ribs tightens. "I just--- wanted to apologize for everything I did to you. I ruined your career, your life. I lied to you, I betrayed you. And I'm so sorry, Julian, I'm - I'm so fucking sorry." He loosens his grip again so he can look at Julian who looks up. His eyes are wet and dark and so damn beautiful, and now they're only inches apart. He could kiss him now, ruin everything all over again for a short moment of bliss, but he doesn't. "Me too", Julian says quietly, and his voice is soft like torn velvet. "I wish you wouldn't have come here. Let me keep my anger. But I guess you have this way of making me forgive everything you do. You're impossible, Don, you know that and I, just, hate you so, so much right now, I fucking - I hate you so much ---" "I know", Don whispers against Julian's cheek as their faces are pressed together, stubble against stubble, words escaping them that neither of them hears, lips against skin, not exactly kissing, but mouthing apologies and curses that get lost in the night. "I was so angry for so long, thinking about you, and the shit you did, the - the way it had to end", Julian rasps, tension falling off his body, too tired to keep on shivering. "I kept asking myself why the fuck you'd work with him --- how you could stand looking Reddington in the eye day after day and not - not see all that he cost us. Except I realised you did see, and you just didn't care." "Julian, I ---", he interrupts, but Julian keeps talking. "And I took that as justification to curse you and to hate you, and I did, you know, I really did, but... then I realised it was Reddington and I -- I chalked you up as just another casualty, another person he ruined, because you - you might just as well have been dead, you know? I fucking buried you." Julian chokes a little at that, but his grip at the back of Don's head doesn't weaken. "I know him, Don, I, uh, I know how he is. How he will put you under his spell and pull you in and never let go. Just... Just tell me this." And he looks up again, eyes red rimmed even in the darkness, and Don wants nothing more than to kiss those tears away, but he can't. He owes Julian, and even though he doesn't know what he wants to ask, he knows he needs to give an honest answer. No more lies. No more. Julian's searching his face and seems to have found what he's been looking for when he finally speaks up again after long moments of silence. "Did you love him?" The question should surprise Donald. It doesn't. He looks down, unable to meet Julian's unrelenting gaze. Thinks back to the box and the hotel room in Washington and the flight from Munich back to the states. Slowly, without looking up, he nods. No more lies. Here it comes. "Yeah", he says quietly even though he knows Julian has seen his nod. "I did. But never like I loved you." The words just come, mindlessly spilling over his lips, and he means them; he still doesn't look up. Doesn't want to see the disgust and rejection in Julian's eyes. The moment stretches like someone stopped time, stopped the entire universe, and Donald doesn't mind one bit. If it means having this last moment with Julian, even if it's filled with uncertainty, he'll gladly spend eternity frozen in time like this. Julian's fingers are still in his hair, his gaze still focussed on Donald. He's still though, not moving, and if it wasn't for his heavy breath, Don would have thought Julian might really be frozen. Then the moment ends. "Okay", Julian says, simple but heavy, like this truth lifted some weight off of him that Donald didn't know Julian was carrying. He looks up now, unable to keep his

gaze away any longer, and he doesn't know what to make of Julian's expression. There's no disgust. There's no rejection. There's understanding and sadness locked away in the tears that are sticking to his eyelashes, shimmering in the pale light of the moon that's slowly beginning to shine through the trees. Donald doesn't understand it; Julian is supposed to be upset, angry, pushing him away, throwing him out on the street to rot --- not drawing soothing circles over the back of his head, not looking at him like that, like they can fix this, like Donald is finally home --- "I'm, uh... I'm going to the police. Tonight. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. My sad attempt to make things right." He has to look away again, Julian's focussed, open gaze too much for him. "Guess I couldn't... leave without having told you. And I'm - I'm not asking for forgiveness here. I know I can never have that. I just needed to see you. Make sure you're alright, so..." He clears his throat, realizing that they've only been talking about him and never once about Julian. Fuck, how egoistic can he be! "How're you doing?", he asks, and Julian is still clinging to him, just as he's clinging to Julian. "Oh, I'm fine", Julian laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Julian -", Donald starts. He doesn't need his bullshit now. "Really, Don, things couldn't be better. I've read that in my horoscope." He still smiles, a little crooked like he's holding something back, something big, and now Ressler's hand comes up to cup Julian's face. Again, the thought of just kissing him comes to mind, but they're so fragile, both of them, it would only leave them shattered for good. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke the thick stubble and he doesn't say a word. Julian closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, and for a few precious moments, Donald can pretend they're happy. "Stay", Julian says and Donald freezes. Thinks he must have misheard Julian, who looks up now from where he kneels in front of Don's chair, his own hand leaving the blonde hair to rest at Don's jaw. "What?", he asks. It's more of a breath though, no sound escaping his lips. "I'm - yeah, I'm fucking pissed at you right now, but all of this... it - it doesn't change anything. Y'know, I still mean it." And they're so close still, and Donald has lost track of what's happening, and confused, he shakes his head. "What do you mean?", he asks. "Trondheim. Remember that?" He does. It was the beginning of March and so cold even the hotel room in New York with the broken heater seemed like a tropical vacation in comparison. It wasn't the first time they said I love you, but it was the first time they talked about the future. Before, they would stay in the moment, too afraid of letting go, of losing the other over naïve fantasies of a life together. That night though, they didn't need to be scared. "Whatever happens", Julian said, "I'll never walk away. How could I, huh? Guess I'm too far gone." He smiled, and so did Donald, pressing a kiss to Julian's collarbone. "Fifty years from now", Julian continued, "I'll still think of you. Every fucking day." That earned him a kiss on the lips, chaste and innocent and full of love like they've never experienced before. "Don't matter if you're still with me or not. You don't forget the love of your life, Donnie. I won't forget. Not us. Not this. Never. I could never let you go. Ever." But back then, Julian couldn't have imagined where they would end up one day. "It was different back then", Don says. Not because he doesn't want Julian's words to be true, but because he doesn't think himself worth them. "Yeah, it was", Julian answers, "but tell me you don't feel it still. Tell me, Donnie, and I'll let you go." Donald's answer is silence because, yes, of course he still feels it, that love that's deeper than any feeling he's ever known, deeper even than the shame and guilt and pain of the recent months, years, but doesn't Julian know that it's pointless? That Don's life is over? The silence stretches on and he can't hold

Julian's gaze. "I know", Julian says, "I know." And those words are enough to set him free, to liberate him from his cage of anger and self-pity and guilt and self-imposed punishment - he knows those won't go away anytime soon, but he still feels like breaking down, mercy too much to handle when he knows he's undeserving of forgiveness. He lets his head fall, knowing Julians hands are there to steady him. They do, cradling him like a newborn child, and in a way that might be true: maybe, somehow, this can be a new life, a new start for him; a clean slate. Maybe now, he can forget all of it, all the shit that happened, the person he was - the person he was forced to become --- maybe this is the one chance in life for rebirth. "I'm a mess", he says. "I know", Julian answers. "We can figure it out. Together." "You deserve better." "Shut it now, Donnie. I think I know best what I deserve, huh? I've given up everything for you, y'know, twice. You know what I think it is I deserve? Hm? What we deserve?" Donald looks up, feeling Julian's breath against his lips as much as the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes so familiar in their depth it makes his heart ache. He wants to answer, say something, anything at all, but no words will leave his lips. He feels trapped there between Julian's closeness and the chair, but there's no place he'd rather be. He holds Julian's gaze for a few moments before shaking his head. "Peace, Donnie. I think we deserve peace after all this. Just a little, don't you think?" And that sounds good, far too good to be true, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Yeah", he says finally, voice constricting, "I want that. I want that, Julian." A smile is still tugging at the corners of his mouth when Julian kisses him, slow and unsure and not at all like the many kisses they used to share; it's like a first kiss, a promise for an uncertain future, a vow to try. To give it time and let wounds heal - they're all they have, after all. "You're not going to the police", Julian says as they part. "We will figure this out. Get you clean. And in fifty years we'll still be here, okay, I won't lose you again, I couldn't, couldn't bury you again, I'll ---" And as Donald kisses the doubts and fears away, for the first time in years he has the feeling that everything might turn out okay; that he might be deserving of happiness after all. That finally, finally he's home. _______________________________________

#the blacklist #donald ressler #julian gale #tbl fanfiction #mine #coming home #long post #(under the cut)

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spnsoulsarchive · 4 years

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rules

This is going to be a long post, and I apologise for that. However I do not apologise for putting my boundaries as clear as possible, and will not apologise for doing so. All of the rules below exist for a reason, and I have them for my own comfort.

It is okay if you don’t agree with them BUT IT’S NOT OKAY TO IGNORE THEM. If you think you cannot follow the posted rules, then do not follow this blog. Thank you !!

General

These are the basics, a re-hash of rules that almost everyone has but that I like to cover anyway just in case!

Read ALL important pages: rules, disclaimer, muse list & info for the muse(s) you want to interact with

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Mark clearly whether an ask is IC or OOC

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There may be an occasional mention that I do this if there’s some kind of repeat, but I will not place the content itself on the dash.

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More in the < Asks & Memes & Messaging > section

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Specifics

These are some of the rules that have been established over time for my own sake, and to make everyone’s time on here a lot easier!

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Please, please, use regularly accepted punctuation within threads.

Please.

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Mark clearly between IC/OOC, and which muse or npc a message is for.

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I love my ships and will not stop writing them for someone else’s sake. I tag all visual content, but if there’s a short tag or something to be added, give me a quick little heads-up and I’ll happily tack it on. Everyone wins!

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cut posts

Formatting

this little section is for what to expect from me and my writing preferences, but it is a flexible section!

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memes and asks will be done in whichever I’m feeling

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Headlines will be done in subtext size, again mostly for aesthetic

Parentheses and brackets will be BOLDED and italicized, on the whole

I will @ the url of the person who sent the ask or is part of the thread

thread partner urls may also have their muse’s name listed after a slash for further clarity

I occasionally use icons, but mostly for asks, dash commentary, or silly things

all icons are 100x100

I enjoy using bold, italics, and strikethrough, but that’s about the extent of my text formatting and I try not to overdo them too much

Asks & Memes & Messaging

Asks are open to everyone!

IMs are ooc and mutuals only.

If a meme is shippy or nsfw, it is mutuals only and will require previous interaction.

All others are freebies!!

for the time being I’m putting a graphic in the direct reply to an ask, adding a blockquote for tagging the sender, additional commentary, and the source meme if there is one

Any reply to an ask MUST be in a new post. Reblogged asks will be ignored.

Any messages saying ‘wanna rp?’ or asking for an IM will be deleted. I’m far more receptive to being approached with ideas to work with

While not explicitly reblog karma, I am not a meme source and will talk to you if you always take memes from me but never send anything in or talk to me. Sometimes a meme doesn’t work and that’s fine, but there’s no excuse to never interact with me.

I often have a mix of platonic, general, and nsfw/shippy memes at my disposal, but feel free to improv something from the gist or edit sentences to suit our muses better!! Creative fun is why we’re here <3

OCS & Sideblogs & MuMus & Second-Gens

Information must be easy to navigate and read, same as for canons/single muse blogs!

Sideblogs, please list somewhere OBVIOUS what the main blog is called so I know what to look out for.

Mumus, I love you and your dedication, but I am most selective with you. Yes, even as a mumu myself.

The more fandoms covered and more muses included, the less likely I am to hop on board mostly because I prefer a clean dash.

If we’re close friends ooc I’ll likely be far more lenient

OCs with a main spn-canon faceclaim will not be accepted unless the muse has been around longer than the canon being cast or if they look/act markedly different than the canon ( Karen Gillan with all her hair vs as Nebula, for example ).

more in the < canons & fcs > section

Unless plotted otherwise, they will not know my muses, but they can know of my muses

Second-Gens ( kids of the original set(s) of main canons ) make me uncomfortable for a number of reasons, and so will be interacted with on a case-by-case basis.

I am unlikely to follow unless we know each other very well ooc

Canons & FCs

Again, OCs with mcu-canon faceclaims will not be interacted with unless they meet at least one of the two criteria listed above.

However, if I pick a FC for someone related to this blog that isn’t canon, it’ll likely be shrugged off as uncanny lookalike, or we can otherwise plot around it.

Animated FCs are welcome, but I’ll admit that specifically anime blogs are unlikely to be interacted with. Sorry

If a canon has an alternate faceclaim: cool! Just have it listed somewhere obvious, please

FCs I will not interact with: Mark Sheppard, Selena Gomez, Mads Mikkelsen, Miley Cyrus, Justin Beiber, Sara Bareilles, Andrew Scott, Zooey Deschanel, Natalie Dormer. The list may be periodically updated; yes, it is okay to ask me about specific names and why these ones are listed.

Shipping

There will be a good deal of F/F, F/M, and M/M on this blog both in visual and text.

May ( read: probably will ) include three+somes.

Implication and mention to graphically clear are likely, and will be tagged.

By default, ALL my muses are single, with the noted exceptions of Frigga ( until Odin chooses to pass ) Dugan and Peggy if it’s circa 1952-after, and Sam who is widowed and single post-2012, unless plotted otherwise.

Please don’t assume there will be a ship between your muse and mine without plotting first, positively or negatively !!

Specific to Peggys: don’t be alarmed by my above warning, Dugan/Peg is my muses only and not something I expect to be followed. I will also not expect a ship with Steve.

specific to Steves: I will not expect a ship with Peggy, Bucky, or Sharon

However, Bucky loves Steve, bordering on obsessively. Whether it’s platonic, romantic, or completely one-sided pining is up to plotting and muse chemistry.

if we are writing stucky, Bucky is the one who will be in it first.

James is incredibly anxious about dealing with Steve for many reasons, and more anxious about the possibility of infringing on Bucky’s territory.

It is one of few ships that will require Bucky’s active participation if you want James involved, because James will refuse Steve otherwise.

if we are writing steggy, it will not be eg-canon compliant

Specific to Peppers: Tony cares ( depending on point in time, deeply ) for her, but I will not expect a ship and it must be plotted out.

They could be exes, almosts, currently dating, platonically attached, whatever we would like! But it must be plotted.

specifically for Janes: I do not automatically lead with fosterson! My default is somewhere between slow burn infatuation or mutual, friendly separation. Thor adores her in any type of relationship though, and supports her endeavors and enthusiasms

For Bucky and James, dating one of them does not mean you have to be dating the other.

It would be marginally easier depending on time and verse tho

Specifically for Natashas: I include the generality of James being at the Red Room, but we must plot about including the affair or not. It is not my default canon.

if we are defaulting to winterwidow, James is the one most familiar with her, not Bucky. James was the fronting personality when they originally met, and Bucky’s recollection of events will be hazy if present at all.

If you want to ship Nat with Bucky, it must be plotted and must account for the prior/continuing relationship with James

For Sharon, she has no romantic interest in men ( yes including Steve ).

if she ends up with a comics-inclined verse this may change but will still require heavy plotting.

I will not be ship-exclusive with any blogs

I will have mains but it’s on unofficial terms

For all my writing partners: I will happily plot ships, and details! But I won’t have an assumed prior romantic/sexual history between our muses.

#( rules )#long post for ts

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ltbroccoli · 5 years

Note

3, 8, 11, 16, 33, 36

be honest meme ( no longer accepting // @imadoctornotamagician )

3. What current rp trend do you hate?

Icons. I always thought that icons and gifs or whatever you choose to use are supposed to enhance the visual of whatever you’re writing. You use it to show your muse’s expression at the time, or to generally fit the mood. So… I’m not sure what this 40x40, super pixelated, high contrast, ridiculous colored picture of someone’s chin is supposed to add.

8. Name any three things about the rpc that bother you.

The idea that if you write x, you must unequivocally support x. When that just isn’t true. If I write a muse who is a sexist, abusive murderer, that doesn’t mean that I support sexism, abuse, and murder. It just means that I think this character is interesting and thought it would be cool to write them.

Callouts. Holy shit. I realize that they’re sometimes a necessary evil, when someone is legitimately a threat to the physical or emotional wellbeing of others, but most of the ones I see now are just over petty things. And even if I do see a legitimate one, the people involved are so clearly having fun with it, actually enjoying spreading around all of the drama and it’s… exhausting. I unfollow people who post a lot of callouts for a reason. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Dash only blogs. They’re so frustrating. If your theme is under construction, just use the default theme for a while! Use a basic theme that takes ten minutes to set up! Dash only blogs just restrict everyone actually being able to access your content. Which, for an RP blog? That’s kind of important. And the newest trend now is to add a link in your description to a heavily formatted google doc with all your info, and it’s like… no… just make a fucking theme…

11. What do you know now about rp that you wish you knew when you first started?

Not every single person you write with is going to work out, and that’s okay! Just focus on the ones that do. You don’t have to keep stressing over a thread that just plain isn’t working.

16. If you could change one thing about rp on tumblr, what would it be? Why?

The three things I mentioned above. Also, I would love to be able to send an ask from a sideblog. And to IM from a shared group blog. That’d be swell.

33. How do you feel about personal blogs following your rp blog?

It honestly makes me sort of antsy, especially over on my Neville blog where I swear personals comprise half my followers. I’m glad people enjoy my portrayal enough to keep up with it, but so many personals don’t know the basic etiquette of interacting with RP blogs. Mostly to not reblog my stuff. It’s so frustrating when that gets ignored.

36. What’s one thing that other people seem to hate that doesn’t bother you?

Some people flip their shit if you reblog an ask to continue it into a thread. They want you to copy it into a new post so it looks cleaner. And I get it, it looks ugly, I copy mine over too. But the thing is, the ugly isn’t on your blog. They reblogged it, so it clearly doesn’t bother them. And there is nothing stopping you from just moving it to a fresh post yourself in your next reply. Like, of all the things to get up in arms about and block people over, that one seems ridiculous.

#imadoctornotamagician #computer end program ( .｡.:*☆ OOC. )#transmission received ( .｡.:*☆ Answers. )

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sawyersscribbles · 6 years

Note

Hey ellie! I’m the anon who asked you about starting a wip, and thank you so much for that, it really helped and I have decided to start my own writeblr! My name is also ellie haha. You also said in the post that you could talk about getting more support for wips, and if you have any time, I would really appreciate it if you did! 💕

Eeeee I’m so proud of you, Ellie!! You’ve got to hook me up with your writeblr so I can scream about your wips!!

(Can you smell the transition yet?) But WOWIE how will others also know to get hooked up with your writeblr and then lust over your writing? Here’s how!

1. The Set-Up Stage

So at this stage, since you just made a writeblr, I’m sure you’re in the process of writing new WIP material and trying to post it, but one of the most important things about starting to broadcast your WIP is the page and the content.

Having a WIP page isn’t absolutely necessary, but it definitely helps in showing that you’re a serious writeblr and having information available to your readers when you don’t post anything. To start, I would have an overview with the basic summary of the story and maybe the genre and word count, a character page, and maybe some place where you can put edits or moodboards, if you ever choose to make them. To do that, go to “Edit Appearance” and then “Edit Theme”.

On the lefthand side, you should see a bunch of white bars with stuff like “Title”, “Description”, “Avatar”, stuff like that. Scroll all the way down to where you see “Add A Page” and make the categories I talked about above, and be sure to show at least your overview in your bio. You can also make a tagged page where you put your full tumblr url (for example, mine is http://elliewritesstories.tumblr.com) and then put /tagged/whatever-you-want, in which the “whatever you want” is whatever you want tagged, although remember the hyphens!

(Side note: I think making a clear and concise bio is also useful to seem welcoming and open. I think the general “name - age - pronouns - location” is a pretty good standard format, but you can mix and match however you want!)

2. The Posting Stage

Alright, now that we’ve got our WIP page link in the bio and all ready to go, it’s time to make some material for people to latch onto! What I’ve discovered with my own experiences is that people really like a WIP intro post. This should be pretty similar to your overview from the pages we made earlier, but this one would be out in the open on tumblr rather than something people could only find by clicking your link. You can use an example of my own wip intro post if you want an idea, but as long as you have some sort of graphic like a moodboard or edit, the basic summary, and a couple characters, that should be enough to get people initially hooked.

After that, some character introductions or worldbuilding posts would be a good way to keep intrigue high. Here’s another example of a character introduction (which is pretty similar to the intro post format), and worldbuilding is generally more freestyle, so however you want to do that is up to you.

Be sure to post whatever you’re thinking of, though! Don’t hold back! If you thought of a cool line you want to share, or a weird character trait you came up with on the spot, or an excerpt you just wrote that you’re really proud of, share it! I know it’s hard at first with so few notes, but I promise that you’ll find your ground here and eventually you’ll get the credit you deserve.

One more thing! Tagging is super important!! Without it, there’d be no way for people to see your writing, so I think starting a “wip tag”, or tagging all your wip-related posts with the name of your project, is a good way to keep all your information in order, and also for people to have one place where they can read what you’re working on.

3. The Interacting Stage

This might not be what you were expecting, but I promise, interacting with other projects in the writeblr community is actually a really fun and easy way for people to check out your projects.

What I mean by that is, engage with people as much as you can. When you see an ask meme going around, shoot the reblogger a number or two! When you see someone post something related to their WIP, check it out and see if you like it! People are much more inclined to check out the projects of someone who seems cool and friendly than when they’re just seeing someone post their work. I know I’ve come across a lot of cool projects on this site just because people comment on or reblog my own work. When they do, I always click the reblog to see what they say, and if they have a WIP too, I feel more inclined to check it out because they were kind enough to give their time to read my wip, so I feel I should do the same.

By getting your name out there and really embracing the writeblr community, you’ll start to be seen as a friendly face who interacts with and is supportive of other people in the community, and because of that, you’ll find that what goes around comes around, and people will show you the same amount of respect that you’ve shown them.

I hope these tips have helped you out, Ellie, and don’t forget to hook me up with that WIP, I can’t wait to read more about it!

#how to gain support for wips #how to make your wips popular #writeblr

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moonguardsecrets · 6 years

Text

hi im berenal

So I'd like to preface by saying I don't really use this blog too much, I mostly read it every now and again but that's about it. I've been relatively quiet concerning this issue but frankly I don't think that's the right way to go about it anymore, so I'm just going to address some stuff.

I've always believed in being pretty transparent about my issues, especially beef with other people. So while this blog is all about being anonymous, I'm just going to put up my side of this whole thing.

1. Concerning my guild/our story. There's a post I've seen pop up a few times that we've accused Blizzard of copying our stuff for Drustvar. While there's some striking similarities between some of our stuff and Drustvar, we know that Blizzard doesn't care about some random guild on MG. It was a meme. Maybe it's cause sarcasm gets lost in text, idk, but we've never actually believed that our stuff was stolen. We've actually fully embraced the similarities and have been super looking forward to the Drust stuff cause it's a cool concept, but this idea that we've somehow been slighted by Blizzard/earnestly believe that there was a copy thing isn't true. It was a joke that I guess went over poorly outside of our guild. We still say it as a joke in our casual conversations, accusing a specific guild mate of being a blizzard spy whenever something funny happens. It's a little outlandish to me personally that it got taken seriously but hey I'm not going to point a finger around, I'm just clarifying that the Blades as a group doesn't actually think this.

As for my character, which I've seen people saying I try to roleplay Greymane, thanks I guess? Berenal as a character is meant to be insanely patriotic. If they ever turned Genn into a villain, Berenal would follow him, unless it was done so in a really weird way like old gods or something overtly obvious. The character is meant to echo Greymane's statements, but I've never tried to pass myself off as Genn IC or state I have absolute authority from him or whatever.

Our guild is centered around Gilneas foremost and we put a lot of our narrative in-house rather than post it up publicly because we don't believe in forcing an intrusive narrative. I know I've been accused of such personally when Flames of War was doing Ashenvale, though I'll address that a bit later.

2. Concerning the titles of ranks in the guild. Recently a post came out, which was deleted because it did include the name explicitly of our stuff, that was talking about a title given to one of my officers. The post included a mistranslation, saying it translated to queen. That's just blatantly not true. For some background, the position was a recent creation because our previous council system wasn't working too well for this branch so we downsized it to the main officer in charge of the branch of the guild.

Given that this is our pagan project, and they have their own language (which yes, we do proxy with Irish cause I'm not a linguist and I don't have the means or time to make my own language up), we used an amalgam of a few words to describe it. The title roughly translates to an arbitrator of law/leader of law. Not king, not queen. In fact it's not even a noble position either, it's an elected one that if Aleyina were to ever step down, it'd go to whoever was elected next. We use the title Grand Master, Spymaster, Rionasai, and a few others throughout the guild. They're all on the same level of 'power', and countless other guilds have similar structure. I'm not sure what drove the need to lie about that but I'd just like to clear that misconception up before I go into my next point.

3. Concerning the pagan project in my guild. My guild has had a pagan project in it for roughly 4-5 years. I put up the original article for it about almost a year after we started it. It's a story I personally started back in Mists of Pandaria and have cultivated alongside several others for years, it's something I only recently managed to hand off into other people's hands for running it because I couldn't focus on it, I have other narratives and stories that I tell in my guild, but here's the proof of how old this story is. (Note, at the time the Pagans were called "Wickers", which is actually where the whole drust meme even comes from on our side.)

https://i.imgur.com/7rgG9t5.png

I was fascinated with the bare minimal lore that Blizzard provided for the Old Ways and Harvest Witches/Wizards that I tried to expand on that by making a group of people based around the ideology of an expanded religion that roots its self from a common point in druidism.

What started originally as a side group grew into an entire branch of our guild and has since been something I've personally invested years worth of time growing and developing as a writing project alongside others. We've made a point of making nearly everything in this branch original content and it's at the point it's at after four to five years of growth and development alongside the main narrative of the guild. It's a project that I have personally cultivated with the help of others for years and has been personally invested into by the guild as a whole through nearly three expansions now.

On top of it, a while ago we were accused of having said our runes were celtic or something. That's not true. They're stylized elder futhark, we've never bothered to hide that. In fact, I've attached some images below.

https://i.imgur.com/q5MHveU.png

This is an image from Varian's grave in Stormwind. The runes are translatable elder futhark, and this is the closest representation to Common we have in the game.

https://i.imgur.com/C9jc7sG.png

This is an image from Haustvald in Stormheim. These runes too are Elder Futhark, though they've been slightly stylized and include some runes that are gibberish it's meant to represent Vrykul. The angle's a little bad but if you go there in game Elder Futhark is literally lining most of Stormheim. You can translate these as well, it's pretty nifty.

The premise of our written language for the project we have for runes has never been 'celtic', we just based it off whatever Blizzard ended up saying was 'humanity's language'. Our group takes some minor inspiration from norse and celtic themes, but the majority of it is original writing, and the runes themselves are based around the idea of having descended from vrykul runes; so we just kept to the format that Blizz themselves are using for humans in the game.

4. Concerning Flames of War. While this one has largely died down, I'd still like to address it. Flames of War is a team effort, something with over ten coordinators that all of us still actively communicate with one another fairly regularly. During this time I'd been claimed as a dictator, or that I was giving special attention to myself/my own. Flames of War has never been solely 'dictated' by my actions. Every major decision has been either voted on or come to consensus one way or another, including story decisions. Sure I'm the dude who made the server but I've forfeited any real 'power' that gives me in favor of a council system. Ergo, if you're mad at me for something that happened in Flames of War, I highly encourage you to re-assess the things that happened and either speak to myself or another coordinator. We're not in this for some weird power play or whatever, this is a video game in the end of the day and unlike some past 'moguls of the server', I'm earnestly just looking to make my virtual barbie doll be in some cool situations, not make him grand poobah of the alliance or whatever. I can speak on behalf of the rest of the team and say they feel the exact same way.

5. Concerning our adherence to lore. I know there's been some people who have accused my guild of breaking lore/saying I don't care about lore. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a giant lore fanatic and for whatever reason people use me like an almanac in a few servers for lore questions. I really honestly do try to keep the boundaries of my guild within reasonable lore parameters. Despite the rumors, no, my character doesn't have regular casual chats with Genn Greymane, no, our lands are not 'flawless with millions of gold and soldiers', no, we don't RP like we run Gilneas either. All we're trying to do is have fun with the game and tell a story of a rundown kingdom trying to get back on it's feet.

6. Concerning deleted secrets. Yes, I've requested secrets be deleted before because, honestly, ever since this nick-name stuff started it's stopped being remotely ambiguous. Sword of Genn isn't even remotely ambiguous. Neither is Knives of Greymane, that's just changing one word. The rules for the blog on the side state anything that can be considered trolling or abuse of anonymity is grounds for removal of secrets; so I've just used those rules since honestly, a lot of these are really weird accusations. Each time I've been willing/or have provided screenshots to prove the contrary. Not all secrets concerning my guild have been deleted; only the ones that break the rules. This segways into my final point.

As I said at the beginning of this huge post, I've always been a believer of transparency. If you have issue with me, or any of my guild mates, I'm honestly imploring people to contact me over Discord or in game. My tag is:

Berenal#0693 In game it's just Berenal, no weird letters. I'll be online in Boralus.

You don't need to contact me on your main account if you're afraid I'm going to 'out you' or whatever. Any conversation we have will be one on one between us. You can even delete it afterwards, I don't mind. So come to me on a throw-away discord account, let it out to my face, or maybe we can even hash out our differences. I'm more interested in getting this shit done with than trying to start a flame war, honestly. In the end of the day this is a game to me and mine, and we're all paying 15 bucks a month to have fun. I've cleared out my block list entirely, so there's nothing stopping people from contacting me.

I do hope folks reach out so we can hash our differences out and do our own thing, instead of whatever vendetta seems to have brewed up over play pretend for god knows what reason. I earnestly don't understand the point of the majority of these vitriolic posts; it just seems to subsist off the idea of throwing words around for what real reason? To upset people? I don't get it. I don't see what posting incessantly here about it does to fix anything.

If you've got issue with me or my guys come talk to me about it, my door's open.

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texanredrose · 6 years

Text

Did You Know?

-Today, 0317- (214) 13-170-9: Did you know that "hamburger" is two words combined, but it's not "ham" and "burger", but "hamburg" and "er"? No idea what "er" means, though. Or “Hamburg” really. English is weird. You: Who are you and how did you get this number? (214) 13-170-9: Shit, is this not Blake? You: No. I am not Blake. (214) 13-170-9: Ah fuck, sorry, must've fat fingered the number! You: It's four in the morning here. (214) 13-170-9: Oh, cool, same timezone. Still, sorry about that. You: It's fine. You: And, for the record, -er is an Atlesian suffix that roughly means "from" and Hamburg is a city in Atlas. "Hamburger" means, quite literally, "from Hamburg". You: I grew up not too far from there. (214) 13-170-9: Oh, that's so cool! My name's Yang! You: Noted. Now, may I return to slumber or do you have any other useless trivia to impart upon me? (214) 13-170-9: Right, sorry! Again! (214) 13-170-9: Night! Sweet dreams!

-Today, 1034- You: Now that it’s a somewhat respectable hour, I’d like to apologize for being curt last night. (214) 13-170-9: Hey, I get it! I’d be a little cranky if someone woke me up, too. (214) 13-170-9: Really, no harm, no foul. (214) 13-170-9: But if you’re ever in need of useless trivia, I’m here! You: That was... harsh of me. (214) 13-170-9: I mean, you’re not exactly wrong. Most of this stuff isn’t really that useful. But it can be food for thought or even a little funny! Like, did you know the electric chair was invented by a dentist? Sounds weirdly appropriate, doesn’t it? (214) 13-170-9: Guess he got his patients confused with chickens; THOSE are the ones where you pull out all the white things and THEN fry ‘em. You: That was dark. You: I’ll admit it made me laugh out loud, but still dark. (214) 13-170-9: Okay, look, I work with what material’s available to me, and that was the first one that popped into my head. (214) 13-170-9: Also, did you really type out ‘laugh out loud’? lol, really? You: What do you have against properly spelling out words? (214) 13-170-9: Okay, you know what, in hindsight, you’re right. It just caught me off guard. Most people use abbreviations. (214) 13-170-9: Or emojis. You: I honestly hate the sight of that stupid word. You: Also, I spend all day trapped in an alphabet soup hell. I don’t need more abbreviations, thank you. (214) 13-170-9: But they make things so much quicker! btw, ofc I could spell it all out, but rn I’m using one hand, other’s occupied. (214) 13-170-9: I swear that’s not as dirty as it sounds. You: At EOD, I meet with my POC for a SITREP, then CM to the DFAC. (214) 13-170-9: I respectfully withdraw my argument, have a good day.

-Today, 1425- (214) 13-170-9: Um. I might be overstepping here and maybe you’re busy but either way I hope I didn’t upset you or insult you earlier. You: You said “have a good day”; I assumed that was the end of the conversation. (214) 13-170-9: Do you even meme?! You: I realize I implied and now am outright stating that English isn’t my primary language but you don’t have to make up words. (214) 13-170-9: Oml have you never seen a meme before? Hold on. (214) 13-170-9: [MyHairIsABird.jpeg][open][save] You: What.The. Fuck. (214) 13-170-9: You’ve never seen that before? You: I have and am now wondering why I allowed myself to be teleported back a decade. You: At least. It’s probably closer to two at this point. (214) 13-170-9: That’s a meme. It’s short for mimetic mutation I think? Where a joke gets so far removed from the source that it loses all connection but it’s still somehow funny? You: No. (214) 13-170-9: Look, I’ve never had to explain a meme before! You: I’m not saying “no” to your explanation; I’m saying “no” to that meme, as you call it. (214) 13-170-9: That’s what it’s called! You: Of course it is. (214) 13-170-9: Okay, fine, how about this one? (214) 13-170-9: [loss.jpeg][open][save] You: Now you’re tormenting me. You: Wait. I recognize this format. You: This is the stupid joke the idiots I call my subordinates are giggling about like school children? You: It’s not even a joke. This is a serious matter. (214) 13-170-9: I mean, I agree, I’m not sure how it became a joke but it did? (214) 13-170-9: I swear I’m not as dark as I’ve been sounding. (214) 13-170-9: Like, this whole conversation is kinda atypical for me, I swear. You: You’re putting in a lot of effort to convince a stranger that you’re not exactly as you’ve been acting. (214) 13-170-9: Well, you got me there. Sorry.

-Today, 1832- You: You’ve gone quiet. I suppose both of your hands were required? (214) 13-170-9: I just figured you probably had a point and I should just stop digging a bigger hole for myself. You: You don’t have any more trivia? (214) 13-170-9: Did you know a shark’s top speed is 96 km/h? You: Which species? (214) 13-170-9: Uh, Mako shark, I think. You: You are correct. I have a certain affinity for sharks. You: They aren’t as terrible as people make them out to be, you know. Yang: Actually, more people die from being struck on the head with a coconut than from shark attacks every year. They’re mostly fine if you leave them alone. Unprovoked attacks aren’t as common as people think, I mean. It’s mostly just one species responsible for them, too, but people lump all sharks together. You: They do. Sharks are dangerous, yes, but most creatures are. Sharks just get a bad reputation for essentially no reason. Yang: Actually, the movie Jaws spawned a lot of the social stigma around sharks. Yang: Do you have a favorite shark? You: The catshark. There’s several species all over Remnant; they’re deep sea creatures, living below what most people fish at, but they’re occasionally spotted by research vessels. They have beautiful skins with wonderful patterns but very little is known about them, and each subspecies is unique in its own way. You: They’re truly fascinating creatures. Yang: They sound really cool! You: I have a question for you. Yang: Shoot. You: You’ve given me your name yet you haven’t ask me mine. Why? Yang: Well, let’s start from the top. Yang: I messaged you in the middle of the night on accident, which you weren’t very happy about. Then when you apologized, I made a bad joke and you took it literally. THEN, I apologized again, and we talked about memes, and that entire discussion didn’t go anywhere good, I think we’re on the same page on that one. Yang: So, from my perspective, I really don’t have any right to ask your name. I gave you mine so you’d know who to specifically curse if you’re religiously inclined. Yang: Or, like, you just want the satisfaction of specifically cursing me, because like, mood. You: How thoughtful. You: It’s Winter. Yang: I’m pretty sure it’s spring? You: You boob. My name is Winter. Yang: OH Yang: IT’S A GOOD NAME You: ... really? Yang: Absolutely! It’s a beautiful name! You: That wasn’t me looking for reassurance; that was me being... surprised by your response. Yang: It makes me think of Atlas, kinda, cause it’s so cold up there. Yang: Oh. Yang: I am just a series of “open mouth, insert foot” examples today. You: Are you on something? Alcohol? Weed? Nicotine? Yang: NO! You: Admittedly, that last one wouldn’t lead to such a lapse in judgement as you’ve currently displayed. You: Are you lying to me? Yang: FUCKING NO, I’M NOT ON ANYTHING! Yang: I just haven’t been sleeping well recently and my head’s a little fuzzy. That’s all. You: That would explain the middle-of-the-night trivia session. Yang: I said I was sorry about that. You: I believe you but I also believe that a good night’s rest in fundamentally important. You: Tonight, you’re going to sleep at a reasonable hour. Yang: You can’t just command me to go to sleep! You: I just did. Yang: Wait a minute, the acronyms, the orders, “subordinates”- you’re military, aren’t you? You: Yes. Yang: That’s awesome! I’m just a mechanic. I like working on engines. You: Riveting, truly, but those are topics for tomorrow. Tonight, you sleep. Yang: lmao, nice pun! You: I didn’t make a pun. Yang: I said I’m a mechanic, you said “riveting”, how was that not a pun? You: You’re deflecting. Yang: My shields are up. You: I’m not engaging in a pun war when you should be going to bed. Yang: I’m not going to bed, so I guess we’re at a stalemate. You: Fine. Here’s the deal. Make me a promise. Yang: Wow, we’re hardly on first name basis and now we’re making promises? You move fast. You: Promise me you’ll text me whatever piece of trivia comes to mind whenever you’re having trouble sleeping. Yang: I don’t get it. I’d be waking you up at all hours. You: Exactly. You seem like the sort of person to care very much about others so I doubt you’d compromise my sleep intentionally. Now that you have a clear purpose of going to sleep to help someone else sleep, you’ll have an easier time accomplishing the task. Yang: What are you, some kinda quack psychologist? Yang: You’re playing dirty. You: I’m military. What did you honestly expect? Yang: Touche. Yang: Fine. I’ll try to sleep tonight. But just know! I have a whole bunch of factoids for ya! Get ready cause neither of us is sleeping tonight! You: Usually, I’d insist someone buy me dinner first. Yang: Now you’re flirting. You: I’m merely stating fact. You: How about one more “factoid” before bed? Yang: Did you know a shark’s teeth are literally hard as steel? You: Playing to my interests, I see. Yang: I have my moments of brilliance. You: Indeed you do. Now, good night, Yang. Get some sleep. Yang: Good night Winter. Sweet dreams. You: And to you the same.

-Today, 0947- Yang: I hate you. You: Care to elaborate? Yang: Somehow, it worked, and I just woke up from the sleep of the dead. My body feels like mush sloshing around a hollow lead cylinder. You: What you’re feeling is the side effects of your body getting both too little and too much rest at the same time. If you establish a better sleep schedule, you’ll avoid this feeling in the future. Yang: Thank you, Doctor Winter. Do I get a lollipop? You: Continue being this cheeky; I assure you it’s doing nothing but improving my perception of you. Yang: Harsh. You: That was teasing. Yang: Oh. You really should add, like, an lol or something when you're joking. I'm not awake enough to find context clues. You: Aside from the lethargy, how are you feeling? Yang: Hungry. I finally dragged myself out of bed to cook breakfast and it turns out my sister already made me some. I’ve taught her well. You: Older or younger? Yang: I’m older by two years. Sometimes, it feels longer than that, though; I practically raised her. You: Interesting. I’m glad she made some food for you. Yang: Yeah. Now that I think about it, probably worried her pretty bad the last few weeks. You: Is that how long you’ve been having trouble sleeping?” Yang: About that. Yang: These pancakes taste fucking delicious btw. Yang: Did you know that, for most people, their right lung takes in more air than their left? You: We need to have a talk about priorities because I highly doubt you’ve inhaled your food that quickly. Yang: Sorry, my sis had to leave, so it’s a quiet breakfast over here. You: I don’t see that as something that needs to be corrected. You: However, I find myself wondering if you know the reason behind the lung trivia. Yang: I do! It’s because, for most people, your heart is just to the left of the center of your chest. So, since the heart takes up space, there’s only two sacs in your left lung, as opposed to three in your right. Yang: *sacks? Idek You: Idek? Yang: I Don’t Even Know- not sure what the difference between “sacs” and “sacks” is. You: This is why acronyms and abbreviations are more trouble than they’re worth. Yang: Okay, so basically, a sac is biological and a sack is manufactured. Like, sacs are things naturally occurring that fill with air or liquid, either in the body or outside it. Sacks are made for carrying things like groceries. Yang: Meanwhile, “sack” as a verb means either getting hit or getting laid off. Or maybe both, I guess, depending on your job. You: You went and looked it up? Yang: What, you think I was born with all these random things preprogrammed? Yang: I have a really good retention rate and I'm curious a lot. Yang: Google is my friend. You: Obviously. I suppose the appropriate follow-up question would be: you kept highlighting “most people”. Why? Yang: Well, there are a lot of medical reasons that makes it not applicable to everyone. Dextrocardia, for instance, in its mildest form causes the heart to face the opposite way, so the lungs usually fill differently because of that. More severe cases mean that more visceral organs are mirrored, too. You: Okay, so, language, sharks, the electric chair, and now medical trivia. The breadth of your subjects of interest is impressive. Yang: Thanks! Yang: Did you know that the cracking sound made by a whip is caused by the tip breaking the sound barrier? Yang: I’m pretty sure this counts as physics. You: I’ll add physics to the list. You: Now finish your breakfast and do something small. Take a nap in a few hours or whenever you feel tired. Yang: Do you have any siblings? Yang: You don't have to answer right away! Yang: Or at all. Yang: Guess you're busy? Eating breakfast maybe?

-Today, 1036- You: Actually, I was in formation. It's usually at 0930 but there were... complications this morning, so they pushed it back half an hour. Yang: Huh. For some reason, I always thought the military would be, like, SUPER punctual. You: And I have a younger sister and a younger brother, in that order. You: I'm going to tell you a secret: the military is always late. We just never admit it. Yang: So, you're like a bunch of cats? You: Given what constitutes my workday, yes, I would say that's accurate. "Herding cats" is the most accurate description of my job title. Yang: lmao, that's wild. Your siblings here in Vale too? Or back home in Atlas? You: My sister is here; she moved here to study at Beacon and then decided to stay. I suspect her girlfriend might factor into that decision but she's remaining tight lipped about it. My brother is at home, in Atlas. You: Now explain “lmao”. Yang: Laughing My As Off Yang: You really don’t know any chat abbreviations? You: Has it occurred to you that abbreviations is a very long word to describe the shortening of words and is, in itself, evidence that it’s all very silly? Yang: I know this is going to sound very grade school but you’re kinda cute when you’re annoyed. You: You’re right; that does sound very grade school. You: And you only say that because you can’t see me. Yang: Oh, so you don’t go all broody, kinda constipated, pursed lips when you’re annoyed by something? You: I understand those words individually but, combined, I’m lost. What would that even look like? Yang: Here. Yang: [photo][open][save] You: First, I want to assure you that you’re a very beautiful individual. You: Next, you look absolutely ridiculous. Yang: Hey, that’s how I think you look when you’re annoyed! You: I do not. Yang: Okay, I’ll take your word for it! You: [photo][open][save] Yang: Oh Yang: Wow You: That is what I look like when annoyed. You: And, not to wound your ego, but that annoyance isn’t inspired by you. A subordinate just asked me for fucking grid squares. You: At this point, one would think that joke’s too tired to work, but one would be wrong. Yang: Did you know that the winter of 392 was so cold, all of Beacon Falls froze over? You: Back to trivia? Yang: It’s my default response when higher brain function shuts down. You: I’ll admit, this is the first time in a long while I’ve felt flattery to be entirely sincere. Yang: This isn’t flattery; this is cold, hard facts. You: I see. Yang: Hey, I, uh, just realized the time, I gotta get to work. Yang: See if I still have a job, at any rate. You: I understand. Good luck. Yang: Thanks! Hope your work day gets better!

-Today, 1236- You: I assume the radio silence to be a good sign.

-Today, 1428- Yang: Yeah! Turns out, the shop kept a spot for me. My boss is being really understanding. Yang: Kinda... babying me, too, but... I’m getting used to it. Yang: At least he fired the idiot that started this whole mess. You: Am I permitted to inquire as to what happened? Yang: I don’t wanna go into details. You: That’s understandable. You: I’m glad they kept a spot for you. Are you going to return to work full time or ease into it? Yang: Give me a minute. You: Very well.

-Today, 1513- Yang: A few months ago, there was an accident at the shop. We do body work too and this guy tried using a machine he had no business using. Freaked out, caused a scene, I tried going over to help, ended up with my right arm caught in the damn thing. Mangled it pretty bad. So bad the docs had to take it. I got fitted for a prosthetic and I’m just trying to find normal again. Yang: I know I said I didn’t wanna go into the details but I’m actually shit at lying. Yang: Except in, like, weirdly specific circumstances. You: Thank you. Yang: Ok. Gotta admit. Not the response I expected. You: It must be very difficult to discuss and think about the accident. You didn’t have to go into it, yet you did, and I thank you for trusting me with that. You: That being said, is this a contributing factor to your insomnia? Yang: It’s not insomnia. I’m just not sleeping well. Yang: But yeah, idk, maybe it’s related. I liked sleeping on my right side and I can’t anymore. Anchor digs into my ribs. You: Establishing a new routine can be tricky at first. Everything is just a painful reminder of the incident. Yang: Sounds like you have experience with this. You: A bit. A superior of mine whom I respect greatly lost most of his body a few years back. He speaks very frankly about the challenges he faced when returning to the line. Yang: Wait, you mean General Ironwood? You: You know him? Yang: Who in Remnant doesn’t? He’s basically a celebrity. I mean, not just for the prosthetic body thing; he’s also the youngest commanding General of the Atlesian military. Yang: Which... tbh, is kinda weird. Isn’t he pushing fifty? You: Age takes on a whole new concept in the military. Yang: I’d say. Yang: They talked about him when I started my physical therapy. Supposed to inspire me, I guess. You: For what it’s worth, he actually dislikes when people do that. He says that each individual case is a war all unto itself. Comparisons are detrimental to the individual’s recovery. Yang: I like him better already. I’ve been over here trying to just “suck it up” I mean, not like I lost anything more than an arm, what do I have to complain about? You: Hold that thought. Yang: Okay?

-Today, 1558- You: Miss Yang? This is General Ironwood. Yang: Look, I’m all for practical jokes, but this isn’t a good one. You: [photo][open][save] Yang: This is not a joke. You: No, it is not. You: Miss Yang, I’d like to extend my deepest, sincerest sympathies to you for your loss. Having your life upended in such a way can be extremely disorienting. However, the measure of your strength does not come from what you can or can’t do in comparison to before. It comes from your desire to continue fighting, to find a new balance to your life. Asymmetry is a measure of beauty, strength, and courage in its own right. Yang: Thank you, sir. Yang: *Sir. You: I’d like to extend an invitation to a support group I host. It’s mostly military members from all over Remnant but, if you don’t mind a bit of morbidly crass humor- a habit I’m attempting to break the lot of them from, with limited results- we’d be honored with your presence. Yang: No offense, but I doubt a bunch of soldiers would be “honored” by a mechanic. You: The first thing I teach is to see similarities instead of differences. You saw something dangerous and, rather than run away, you ran towards it. All of us share that experience. You: Except Carl. Yang: What happened to him? You: I apologize; it’s a military specific meme. Winter mentioned you’re rather fond of memes. Yang: Oh, so you know what a meme is, but she doesn’t? You: Don’t tell her I said so- she’s a very good soldier- but she’s always had a stick up her ass. She could use more memes in her life. Yang: Should I take that as an order? You: Absolutely. Yang: Can do. And, uh, sure. About the support group. You: Excellent! I’ll give Winter the details so she can pass them onto you. It was wonderful taking to you, Miss Yang. Yang: Yeah, you too, Sir. You: It’s Winter again. I hope that helped. Yang: Did you literally walk into the office of the commanding General of Atlas’ military, just to hand him your scroll and say ‘talk to this bitch’? You: I didn’t use those words; I told him I had a friend who recently attended physical therapy post amputation and I thought some words of encouragement from him would be a good idea. You: Wait, did he literally say I have a stick up my ass? Yang: WOOOW, meme savvy he might be, but apparently he doesn’t know how to delete a text message. You: I can’t believe he’d say that. You: I most certainly do not have a stick lodged in my posterior, figurative or otherwise. Yang: I’d offer to check but that’s a bit too fast too soon, so I’ll just say you seem alright to me. You: Thank you, Yang. Yang: Cranky when I wake you up at the asscrack of dawn, though. That might be when ass and stick are firm friends. You: Do not make me take it back. Yang: I’m just kidding! Yang: Seriously, though, thanks. You didn’t have to do that. You: You’re welcome.

-Today, 0233- Yang: Did you know it takes the average person seven minutes to fall asleep? You: I sincerely thought you’d be asleep by now. Yang: I did. Woke up. Yang: Sorry. You: Do you know what a contact truck is? Yang: Uh, no, no idea. You: It’s the military vehicle utilized by mechanics, outfitted with tools, so they can drive out and repair other vehicles. Do you know why it’s called that? Yang: Hit me with it. You: That was an actual question. Yang: Huh? You: I’ve been asking for as long as I’ve been in. Not even General Ironwood knows why it’s called that. It just is. Yang: omg that’s hilarious You: It’s that, too. Also incredibly vexing. You: I just want to know why it’s called that. Yang: Heh. If I find out, I’ll let you know. You: Go back to sleep, Yang. Yang: I’ll try. Night. You: And sweet dream. Yang: lol, same to you.

#TRR writes #Elderburn #Texting AU

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minatozaki-sana · 6 years

Note

Can you help me with one kind of stupid thing? How can I start rping on tumblr? Like... How do i plot and interact?

we all had to start somewhere, so this is a more than valid question ! first off, here and here are two pretty extensive guides to tumblr rping, but i’ll try to cut everything short under the read-more and have it be more up to date. also if you have any more questions or want more details on a certain topic, don’t be afraid to ask again !

i. types of rps.

since you found this blog i hope it’s safe to assume you somewhat know your way around the rpc ? but just in case, the following tags are most popular for different type of rps: appless rp, bio rp, skeleton rp, semi appless rp, twitter rp and lsrp. there are also a good amount of subcategories for rps, for example apartment rp, mumu rp ( multi-muse ), new rp, pairs rp, etc. it all kind of depends what you’re looking for but for starters i’d recommend appless rps as they’re the easiest to step foot in.

all of the above are group roleplays with set rules, but if you’re not into that, there’s also indie rping. the main tag is indie rp with different subcategories as well. the indie com is more laid-back as you basically write down your own rules ( always make sure to read other ppl’s rules as well ) and you can take as much time for your replies as you’d like opposed to groups where the time limit is 2 - 5 days nowadays. though, i’d only rec the indie com for people over 18 as it has many muns who like to post smut starters without properly tagging them but using nsfw gifs. also there are quite a few nasty ppl out there who like to write inc*st or non-consenting threads which just .. yikes Blocked.

ii. joining a rp.

as you’re browsing the tags, you’ll hopefully find a rp you like and would like to join. please, please make sure to read the plot, rules and if applicable faq pages completely and if it’s a new rp also scrolling through the blog itself just to avoid possibly joining a rp that allows something ( or someone ) you’d rather not be affiliated with. in case everything’s fine and you went through all the pages, it’s best to have the taken / characters page open along with the application format just to avoid using a faceclaim ( the celeb you’d like your character to look like ), name or even label that’s already in use.

most admins are very adamant about the app format not being changed ( ex. all lowercase or certain words in uppercase, etc ) so please listen to them otherwise they’ll ask you to resend the app or they’ll have to change it on the taken page. it’s always good for an admin to see that their members actually care about what they created.

most apps ask for a faceclaim, name, age, gender, pronouns, label ( + tag ), occupation, positive and negative traits ( + tag ) and sometimes a fun fact, their zodiac sign, what they googled last, a movie / song / show they love, etc. basically just send in your app as soon as it’s finished ! below you’ll also find an old app of mine for an appless rp.

iii. setting up an account.

hopefully you know how to set up an account on tumblr, but if not, the first guide covers it well. as soon as your account is set up, install new xkit ( without it you basically won’t be able to write replies ). select xkit on your dashboard and install the following extensions ( click ‘ get extensions ‘ ): anti-capitalism, drafts+, editable reblogs ( the most important ! ), go-to-dash, no recommended, old sidebar, old stats, one-click reply, outbox, timestamps, tweaks, xinbox. as for tweaks, go back to ‘ my xkit ‘, find ‘ tweaks ‘ and try to see what you like best.

from here on i recommend following the steps from the first guide, starting at ‘ THE ACCOUNT: AESTHETICS ‘ as i basically do the same. here’s also my theme tag along with a general one.

iv. writing your intro.

now before you’re able to plot with others, you’ll have to write an intro. it’s essentially just to introduce yourself with a small blurb and then elaborating on your muse ( character ). below you can find an example in the form of an old blog of mine, it was for a skeleton rp, but basically it’s the same for appless rps ( except that i never write a bio or create a headcanon page for those ). if you follow the link to the intro, you’ll see a load of text.

the first thing i always do for my intro is add a gif icon ( usually 100x100 pixel or below and you can find them by typing in https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/danielle-campbell-gif-icons for example ), write something small about me / the rp and then add the app format under a read more. everything underneath is the muse’s backstory, personality and wanted plots. ( also as a tip it’s always good to trigger warn your writing. )

v. plotting.

this is often dreaded due to bad past experiences or anxiety but honestly.. keep calm during this. plotting is actually one of my favorite things and i tend to ramble a Lot while talking to strangers so as long as you’re passionate about your muse it’ll work out. and if someone’s not interested in plotting with your muse someone else definitely will. as a true flop i didn’t include any wanted plots in my intro, but i’m also very spontaneous regarding connections aka i’ll read their intro and think of a plot that could work and let them add onto it bc only the mun knows their muse best. if you need any connections idea though, here and here are a few.

as for approaching someone, most of the time i’m looking for something in their intro i could use to bond over outside rping, like with my intro it could be a shared interest for dc and / or marvel. or honestly just compliment them on their muse bc i love doing so when you can really feel they put a lot of effort into creating them. alternatively just quote a vine in all caps.

one thing to avoid doing is sound soo very monotone when you can clearly see that they’re excited to plot and you just don’t seem to care. sharing excitement is a good thing while plotting and the rpc in general !

vi. replying.

plugging in this guide one last time bc the last part covers all of it !

vii. extras.

make sure you’re only following blogs from the main rp’s blogroll to avoid confusion.

if you want to leave a rp, please message the main. a simple ‘ hey ! i’m afraid this rp isn’t for me ‘ or ‘ i won’t have time to dedicate to this rp ‘ will do. it’s always better than to just delete or switch to another rp.

it’s nice to check the starter tag from time to time to make sure new members feel welcome ( most if not all rps have their own starter tag which can be found on their blog ).

in case you join a rp that has meme days, don’t be afraid to ask the admins for help even if it’s just to find some to reblog ( museinspo has a tag for them as well along with other musings blogs ). in addition it’s polite to send everyone a meme to answer / reply to.

museinspo’s navigation might also help clear up a few things, plus it’s a great blog for character creation and development.

hopefully this was beginner’s friendly ?? and happy rping !

#rp guide #rph #anonymous #answered #i .. really tried with this but also knowing me ? probably forgot half of the stuff.

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solerey · 4 years

Text

Rules & Verses for Mobile:

Having had these requested for my Finn account, I thought I should go ahead and make some mobile-accessible rules/verses for the rest of my accounts too, so here are Rey’s! (This also includes the various parental backstories I will play for her.) Note that while I don’t change my rules much (or basically ever lol) the VERSES information here is definitely not going to be up-to-date because I am forever making new aus…but here’s a start, at least, to give you something to explore until you get back to your computers!

Mun is named Nicky and is well over 21. Muse’s age will vary. Multi-ship and multi-verse.

RULES:

Following and Mututals:

This is a sideblog of nickyrp and as such cannot follow back.

We do not need to be mutuals to send memes or starters. Feel free to throw things like that at me at any time even if we’ve never played or plotted before. If I’m not interested or just too busy etc I promise I will let you know politely and not just leave you hanging!

If you want to play please send me a message or toss me a starter; I’m bad at paying attention to my follower count and probably didn’t notice your subtle arrival! Or thought you wanted to lurk idk. Say hi!

If you are a multimuse with a lot of characters or a lot of fandoms all on one url, I may not follow you because that tends to be overwhelming for me. It’s nothing personal nor a comment on your writing style; it’s just more than I can easily keep track of, myself. (That’s why mine are all on their own sideblogs.)

If I can’t read your blog (small text, low-contrast colors, etc) I will not interact with your character. I don’t have the best eyes and straining to read sucks all the fun out of rp. If you need any of my formatting or color choices adjusted for your own ease of accessibility please let me know! I will do so happily.

You can reblog any of my shit (headcanons, graphics, verses, meta, whatever) even if you’re a personal blog, I don’t care; it’s all one fandom imo. That said please don’t reblog my interaction threads with other people because most rp-ers do not like their things reblogged and I want to respect that. If I reblog anything of yours you do not want reblogged just let me know and I will delete it; I promise it’s just because I thought the thing was cool and got excited!

Interactions:

I am always up for trying new things so if you have a crazy idea, please hit me up! I promise I rarely disintegrate anyone.

I am happily open to interacting with Original Characters! I need to know who your character is though, so if you don’t have a bio or background I can find on your blog I’m not going to be interested.

I will not write smut with anyone under the age of eighteen.

If I ever do something that upsets or confuses or offends you, please let me know. It probably wasn’t intentional and I always want to be called out on problematic behavior because how else can I learn to do better? I promise to react apologetically, not defensively.

Formatting:

I’m a visual person so I like icons and gifs and will almost always incorporate them. If you don’t want to use images that’s cool with me, but I majored in comic book art so I enjoy the marriage of words with images. I should further admit that interactions with visuals do tend to keep me more excited than plain ones – I’m shallow!

I’m not a big fan of fancy formatting. I don’t mind if you use it but I don’t. Feel free to adjust my formatting to suit your aesthetic if that makes you more comfortable, but I’ll likely keep mine simple.

If you need any triggers tagged message me and I’ll do so gladly.

Canon & AUs:

I have as of yet read very little of the expanded universe materials for the New Canon (a few comics, the Thrawn novel, etc). As such, my portrayal of Rey may at times be lacking in regards to supplemental canon information. Please never hesitate to inform me of any details relevant to your character or any ongoing/burgeoning threads. I appreciate that assistance!

As far as the Legends EU goes, I have read most of the old novels (excepting NJO period) and many of the Dark Horse comics but that is a lot of material and I do not promise to remember everything. Please let me know if I make a mistake or assumption you do not agree with; I promise I will not be offended!

I will generally default to putting Rey into the canon of the Sequel Trilogy because that is where she comes from, but I am happy to play her in Legends Canon too – just let me know! If you don’t indicate verse/time on a meme or starter, I might pick another verse (or make a new one) so please indicate where you want to play if you have a preference!

I also love making AUs whether canon-divergence or totally off-the-wall so please don’t hesitate to throw new verses my way! I love both plotting and winging-it when building new worlds, so don’t be shy!

Characters Relationships & Shipping:

Platonic Ships: I generally enjoy Rey without any ships and am thus extraordinarily eager for friendships, familial relationships, and Found Family interactions. (Antagonistic and abrasive interactions are also welcome – it doesn’t have to be all sweetness and light all the time!) Rey very much wants to be loved, but it isn’t romance she is primarily looking for. I will usually write Rey as being either an aromantic or biromatic asexual.

OTPs: That said, I do thoroughly enjoy the idea of a Finn/Rey/Poe polyship and would be thrilled to play out interactions under that set-up. I will also happily ship her with either of those two gentlemen on their own, or with Rose Tico or Jess Pava or Jannah or really anyone whom it makes sense to ship her with, providing there is chemistry and a basis in friendship to build the ship from (whether that be formed via interaction or plotted ahead of time). Interspecies ships with non-human characters are also welcome!

NOTPs: No teacher/student, adult/minor, or incestuous ships, please. Additionally I will not ship Rey with Kylo Ren in any verse. I have no objections to playing in verses where they are not related, but due to the fact that I started thinking of them them as siblings about five minutes into my first viewing of TFA (the Jaina/Jacen vibes were too strong for my Legends-based heart, sorry!), it is simply something that I am not comfortable shipping regardless of their actual familial status in a verse or lack thereof. Please tag your reylo so I can block it?

One-Way Ships: I will never force a ship on you. I expect the same courtesy in return. That said, you are more than welcome to have your character express unrequited romantic feelings toward mine. (In most cases I expect I’d even be okay with this sort of one-way attraction coming from a Kylo Ren character; if it ends up crossing the edges of my comfort zone I’ll let you know!)

Main Faceclaim: Daisy Ridley [older: Keira Knightley] [younger: Raffey Cassidy]

“We are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down.” ―Poe Dameron

VERSES & BACKSTORIES:

I am a big fan of AUs and canon-divergent verses so if you don’t see something here that looks like your cup of caf know that I am always happy to plot out a new one! Also feel free to pull anything from my wishlist.

BACKSTORY OPTIONS: I find that I enjoy the Rey Palpatine/Rey-Chooses-Skywalker Idea more and more the longer I contemplate it. I do however remain wholly convinced that Rey Organa-Solo was the original intention with the character in TFA. Thus, for threads set early in Rey’s character arc I am likely to default to Rey Organa-Solo while in threads set later I’ll probably go the Palpatine/Skywalker route. (And I have other options too!) If you have a backstory preference, please specify before starting a thread.

The Last Solo (default canon verse): Rey was too little to remember that her full name was Breha Organa Solo but it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d been one hundred; when Emperor Palpatine decides to mind-rub the entire galaxy, they forget. Sensing the all-but-unprecedented power within the little girl, the half-resurrected shadow of Palpatine was too tempted by her potential to destroy her outright; instead he erased her life. He couldn’t erase the emotional weight of her absence, though, nor the instant sense of connection felt by both Rey and those who had once loved her. Even Kylo Ren didn’t know why the little girl he dragged from the ruins of the Jedi Temple mattered, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill her, instead abandoning both her and his father’s ship on Jakku before following Snoke into the Dark. Palpatine’s lies about Rey’s lineage fooled everyone for a time – but in the end, the truth felt real in a way that the lies did not, and Rey reclaimed the heritage he had stolen. In the end, Palaptine lost everything.

The Last Skywalker (secondary canon verse): When the half-resurrected former Emperor mind-rubbed the entire galaxy to forget Luke Skywalker’s daughter, he succeeded – but his former Hand recognized the feeling of his touch on her thoughts. Mara Jade immediately knew he was back. She didn’t know why she felt such a connection to the little girl buried beside her in the ruins of the Jedi Temple, but she knew she had to kill her former master – and that she had to keep this child safe. She “borrowed” her brother-in-law’s ship and went searching for Palaptine, her forgotten daughter in tow. When she reached Jakku, she left the girl and the ship behind, knowing the next step was too dangerous to bring a child she loved along – but the Final Order she found was more than the fragments of the Empire she had expected, and Mara never returned for her daughter. That didn’t stop the girl who called herself Rey from sensing a connection to her true family when she finally found them again, nor stop her from claiming her true lineage in the end in spite of Palaptine’s lies. (Can also be played with a different mother!)

Palpatine’s Heir (canonical canon verse): When Rey at last discovered her lineage, she was horrified. She was the granddaughter of Emperor Palpatine, the man who had destroyed the Old Republic and created the Empire – and was now the resurrected Lord of the Sith. After initially giving in to fear and despair at the darkness she believed she saw within herself, Rey eventually returned to the war. With the assistance of Kylo Ren, who had turned his back on the Sith at the last minute, she was able to destroy Palpatine while the Resistance obliterated the Final Order’s fleet. Hope was restored to the galaxy, Rey was restored to life in a final act of atonement, and the stain of the Sith was at last ended…at least for now. Choosing to turn her back on the bloodline that spawned her, Rey has instead declared herself a Skywalker in essence if not in birthright, carrying on the legacy of the late Luke and Leia. As the first of the new Jedi, Rey now looks to teach others the ways of the Force as Leia did her – starting with her dearest friend, Finn.

Not So Nobody (alt canon verse): The daughter of Kam and Tionne Solusar, two of Luke’s earliest Jedi students, Rey was the first child born within the Temple. Kylo Ren desperately wanted to make her his first apprentice of the Dark Side, but the Solusars escaped the slaughter and fled across the galaxy. The First Order pursued. Unable to shake them, Kam and Tionne made landfall on the nearest planet: Jakku. They hid Rey with a junk dealer and left, planning to lead Ren away and double-back when it was safe – but the First Order caught them. They convinced Kylo Ren that Rey had died of wounds taken during the attack on the Temple, but the deception cost them their lives. Kylo Ren was irritated to have lost Rey as an apprentice but had more important things to do than dwell on the death of one child…until he heard about the girl on Jakku who helped the deserter. He knew immediately who she had to be – and that she would become his apprentice after all, or he would ensure that her parents’ lie became the truth.

Orphan of Jakku (alt canon verse): Kylo Ren told the truth: Rey’s parents were nobody…but what does that matter? A person’s worth isn’t determined by their lineage but by their choices. And Rey chooses the Light and the Resistance and she will give her all to defend her friends and to free the galaxy from the shackles the First Order wants to wrap them in. Kylo Ren might be descended from Darth Vader but Rey doesn’t need to be a Skywalker too in order to end him and his reign.

Twinverse (for duplicates): Twins run in the Skywalker line, and B(rey)ha and Pad(mey) were no exception. Named for both of Leia’s mothers, their loss hit her as hard her son’s fall to the Dark Side – and hit the girls even harder: separated for the first time in their lives, they were scattered to distant planets and lost, abandoned. So young they could barely remember their own names let alone those of their family, they grew-up like orphans until one day “Rey” found herself leaving aboard a ship whose controls fit her hands like they’d been made for her. When the Force stirred in Rey, it reached out to her sister as well and Mey went looking for the family that had never come back to find her. (I’m happy to play either Rey or Other Rey in all versions! Can also be done as Skywalker twins or nobody twins. Names changeable!)

SEQUEL TRILOGY VERSES:

Her Mother’s Daughter (alt post-TFA): Leia had always been too busy running rebellions and piecing-together governments to truly master the Force, but she knew enough to teach Rey the basics – at least until the old friends she dispatched to fetch her brother could talk him into coming back. She could have sent Rey, but after losing Han she didn’t want to let her daughter out of her sight – not so soon after finding the long-thought-dead girl again. Besides, they had so much to catch up on…and the Resistance could use a Force Sensitive woman like Breha, training or no training. And for General Organa, duty always came first.

Corrupted Coordinates (alt post-TFA): the map did not lead them to Master Skywalker. Artoo wasn’t sure if the data was corrupted or if Luke had been there at one point and then moved on – but wherever he was, it wasn’t here. Unwilling to return to the Resistance empty-handed (to fail again the way she had failed to save Han, to protect Finn) Rey went looking for every rumor of Luke she could find. Aboard the Millennium Falcon with Chewbacca and R2-D2 in tow, she is determined to keep searching until she can come back to Leia with something that will give them all hope.

A Newer Hope (alt TLJ): It wasn’t Rey who finally convinced Luke Skywalker to come back to the Force, back to the Resistance, back to his sister; it was the droid Artoo Deetoo, perhaps Luke’s oldest living friend. Artoo’s old hologram reminded Luke of the boy he’d once been and the hopes that had once filled his life to brimming. Lifting her Jedi Master’s ancient X-Wing from the water had been the last task Rey completed before Luke deemed her ready to return to the galaxy and to continue her training from within the Resistance, although he was cautious about letting her progress too quickly, unable to shake his fears of creating another Kylo Ren.

A Skywalker Returned (alt TLJ): If Luke had not cut himself off from the Force he would have recognized his daughter’s presence the moment she set foot on that island. As it was, the resemblance she bore to his sister – to the woman his daughter would have been if she had lived to grow-up – seemed like a cruel joke of the Force and inspired him to push her away instead. His daughter had died alongside her mother, murdered by Ben Solo in an attempt to hide his fall to the Dark Side…or so Luke had thought. Unable to kill his little cousin, Ben instead mind-rubbed her and dumped the confused girl on an out-of-the-way planet. He never expected the girl from Jakku to come back to haunt him – but the Force has a way of returning things to their proper balance, and Kylo Ren knows now that no lies will keep him safe from his long-lost cousin. Unless he can twist her to the Dark Side the way Snoke once twisted him, their next meeting will leave one or both of them dead.

The Rise of Organa-Solo (post-TLJ): Rey felt an instant connection to Han and Leia (and Kylo Ren), the Force within her whispering that this was the family she sought. Her father thought her resemblance to his beloved Leia was mere coincidence and died before learning the truth; her mother surely sensed something when they met but whether out of concern she might be wrong or hopes of sparing Rey further emotional turmoil before she started her Jedi training, Leia said nothing…and Luke had cut himself off from the Force and thus was unable to recognize his niece. Now only Leia remains to guide Rey into the Light away from Snoke’s lies and toward her destiny – but will the truth make it harder or easier for her when she has to kill her brother?

The First Jedi (alt post-TLJ): While Leia reforges the fragments of the Resistance into a New Rebellion, Rey has a mission of her own: finding other Force Sensitives and leading them with her into the Light before Kylo Ren’s agents can drag them to the Dark Side. She is no Jedi Master but she has the ancient Jedi teachings to draw from, friends to support her, and her own clarity of vision to guide her. She will learn, and she will teach. The Jedi will not end with her.

The Sunrider Option (alt TROS): With Kylo Ren dead at her hand, Rey faced Palpatine alone – but she had read the old Jedi texts and knew of a different sort of sacrifice she could make. She did as commanded and struck him down, claiming her position as Empress of the Sith – but severed herself from the Force at the same time. The spirits of the Sith moved from him to her…and found nothing waiting there that could house them. They faded, dissipating into nothing but impotent screams. Before the Final Order could realize the ritual had failed, she gave the command for their fleet to stand down. The combined Resistance and Free People’s Fleets destroyed most of their ships before they could fight back or flee, and Rey returned to her friends alive and untainted – but forever sundered from the Force. Now she does her best to pass her training on to Finn so he can guide the new generation of Jedi that she will never be a part of…and learns to live with a world that will feel forever muffled, forever less.

The Balance Restored (post TROS): While Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, Kaydel co Connix, and the other leaders of the Resistance turn their hand from rebellion to building a government, Rey has a mission of her own: finding other Force Sensitives and training them as Leia did her. From the fragments of the Jedi Order, something new will rise – something that is not bound by the limitations of the Jedi Code or the sins of Jedi past, but something nonetheless firmly rooted in the Light. She will restore balance to the galaxy one student at a time, starting with her first apprentice: Finn.

Rebel Daughter (pre-TFA divergence): Breha was not lost when her brother fell to the Dark Side. She grew-up amidst the strain and stress of political upheaval and imminent war, but she also grew-up surrounded by family. Breha’s devotion to the Resistance is total – almost. The loss of her brother cut her too deep for even the dozens of unofficial aunts, uncles, and quasi-siblings of her parents’ friends and allies to assuage – but dragging Ben back to the Light would do it. Breha refuses to give up on the big brother she once adored, no matter what Uncle Luke or her parents caution her, but will she risk the continued survival of the Resistance she loves on her certainty that Ben is still in there somewhere, and she can bring him back? She tells herself it’s the will of the Force guiding her – but maybe she just misses her brother.

Scoundrel Daughter (pre-TFA divergence): when Ben Solo fell to the Dark Side, Leia and Han decided that the Force was too dangerous for their remaining child. Duty demanded that General Organa stay with her burgeoning Resistance, so Han and Chewie took young Breha away from war and into the safety of the seedier side of life. She grew up more on the Falcon than off, flitting from port to port and learning the tricks of the smuggler trade rather than the ways of the Force. It wasn’t until Hosnian Prime met its grim fate that they came home to Leia, joining the Resistance for a desperate mission to Starkiller Base – and Breha’s first confrontation with her brother since she had been a little girl and he had not yet become a monster.

Dark Lady of Ren (pre-TFA divergence): When young Ben Solo proved resistant to Snoke’s manipulations he set his sights on an easier target: the boy’s baby sister. His assault on the Jedi Temple left many survivors, but it had all been a distraction so he could kidnap Breha. Raised to the Dark Side and indoctrinated with the beliefs of the First Order, Kreya Ren has few memories of any life before and even less interest in uncovering them. With her family convinced that she died thirteen years ago, she might never have discovered her origins – save that Poe Dameron knew the moment they came face to face who this woman who looked so much like Leia had to be. That had been Kreya’s first mission as a Knight of Ren and she took Dameron’s escape and the defection of the traitor FN-2187 personally. Vowing to destroy the Resistance once and for all, Kreya Ren never expected to discover a brother barring her way – nor parents who refused to accept that she would never turn her back on the Dark Side.

Orderly Mechanic (pre-TFA divergence): The First Order was never picky about where it harvested its resources – or about how willing they were. Rey didn’t want to leave Jakku but she wasn’t given a choice when stormtroopers marched over the sands “recruiting” anyone useful. She was barely a teenager but everyone knew she was good with machines and they needed people to keep their ships spaceworthy. At least she’s learned a lot, although “traveling the galaxy” probably would be more exciting if she ever got to step foot off the ships for more than the occasional dirtside repair. Being a young and self-taught prodigy has netted Rey few friends among her co-workers, but some of the stormtrooper recruits at least are nice to the girl who helps fix their boots and blasters…and so far no one, not even Rey herself, has realized that her instinctive avoidance of Kylo Ren is anything more than ordinary prudence. And every day, her lost family feels a little further away…

More Coming Soon! like literally as soon as soon as someone asks for or suggests one, I love AUs. Don’t be shy!

LEGENDS EU VERSES:

Another Desert Daughter (as Shmi’s great-granddaughter): Luke felt an instant connection to the new Jedi trainee the moment Rey stepped into the temple. Here was yet another Force user from Tatooine, another orphaned child of the sands who dreamed beyond the confines of her hot and distant world, like Taihiri Veila and himself before them. So why did the extent of her powers frighten him? Was it because the coincidental resemblance of her features and his niece’s, his sister’s, had Luke making the mental leap to yet another Jedi from Tatooine? But this girl was no Vader, surely! Of course, if he had known that she too carried Skywalker blood in her veins, Luke might have let himself worry more…but Shmi Skywalker had died too quickly to tell her son that there was another. (can be set at any time in Legends Continuity but probably not NJO because I don’t know it)

Lost Hapan Princess (as Allana Djo Solo): deeming it too dangerous to hide her daughter in plain sight with Han and Leia Organa-Solo, Tenel Ka sent Allana to Dathomir after faking her death – but the ship never made it there. Left on the nearest planet for safe-keeping by her escort while they dealt with the threat pursing them, Allana soon found herself abandoned and alone. Her memories damaged by the upheaval in the Force following Caedus’s fall and Abeloth’s rise, she spent the next several years sure of nothing but that she had family out there somewhere who would be coming back for her…but as the amnesiac girl drew inward to shield herself from the darkness in the Force, Tenel Ka was forced to conclude that her deception about her daughter’s death had become the truth: Allana was gone. But the Force wasn’t done with the woman now called Rey just yet… (for post-LOTF interactions)

Littlest Solo Sister (as Breha Organa-Solo): either taking Anakin Solo’s place as the youngest of the three Solo children, standing alongside Anakin as the second set of Organa-Solo twins, or as the fourth and youngest of the siblings, Breha grew-up as the daughter of the New Republic’s Chief of State and the niece of the Jedi Grand Master. It was a life that involved lots of affection from a host of unofficial aunts and uncles, the occasional kidnapping, and training in the Jedi Temple on Yavin Four. It eventually involved war as well, interspersed with tragedy and darkness. (can be set at any time in Legends Continuity but I really don’t know the NJO so assistance with details may be necessary if you want that)

More Coming Soon! like literally as soon as soon as someone asks for or suggests one, I love AUs. Don’t be shy!

#rules #verses #rp style #sw rp #ooc ramblings #for mobile users

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