Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
There was frustration... certainly, in losing. Luca had plans that would never come to fruition now and the disappointment clawed at him now and again, a pinching uneasiness in his chest, that he'd failed her. But after his conversation with Chloe, albeit less informative than he would've hoped regarding her small slip, and after the heartwarming reunion with River, he was feeling marginally less hopeless.

Still... It was strange. Sitting around the table at dinner, looking forward to the grey colored slop and the irritable looks from inmates who had lost bets on them. His natural instinct was to threaten to give them something new to stare at (the inner lining of their collon), but with Chloe beside him, her fingers curling in and out of the hair at back of his neck, he couldn't find the urge.

Not everything born from the Dog Fights was bad...

"Oi, where's Hana?"

Looking up, Luca spied the duo from the first fight, the unlucky pair who had been forced to surrender. Chiko was no stranger to their group - but Amit had always been a bit of an outsider... Yet they were all united in a way. The other side of the Fights.

"Probably in the infirmary." Luca answered with a shrug, trying to fight the urge to answer passove aggressively. His anger there, at least, had not entirely abated, but there was no sense being ugly, "You two joining us?" He asked, gesturing to the empty spaces at their table, "That was some sick work today, Chiko... With the boomerang. Sorry 'bout your ankle. Feelin' alright?"

After their odd conversation with Gram, Pandora's mind has not stopped spinning. Things were moving in a direction she wasn't entirely sure she dared to trust, but also didn't dare doubt. They were in the thick of it, now, and whatever she might've anticipated following their victory in the first fight, particularly where Gram was concerned, escape was too damn important to let little things like someone trying to blow her up get in the way.

But it was also not the only concern smacking around in her brain. Switch, like clockwork, appeared at their table, an uncharacteristically sheepish aor about her as she asked to sit with them like an anxious kid at a new school. A brow raised, arching up towards her temple as Pandora's lip twitched in a smirk.

"Well, gee. I dunno Switch..." Idly, she looked to Abe, then back to Switch again, "This is the cool kid table. You sure you can handle it?" Without waiting for an answer, she kicked out a chair for her cellmate, "Sit, baby girl. How you feelin'?"

It was always awkward when one let slip a secret. Wicker had made a grave error in showing vulnerability that day, but it was something, she hoped, that might not haunt her indefinitely. Fritz's side, at least, seemed settled. Their incident in the infirmary played out well enough, and what had been a fun experiment, it seemed, had begun to shift into a genuine alliance... Her feelings were clear, and whether that served her greater purpose later was a matter of fortune's favor. Either way, the real issue was The Crybaby.

River had proven himself that day in spectacular fashion. She hadn't known until she'd viewed the recap what he had done, but knowing it now was damn near chill inducing... For all his shockingly violent twists and turns, however, there was still a twinge of a flaw in plan... And she needed to ensure that was dealt with, swiftly.

Looking to Fritz as he spoke, she reached up to give his hand on her waist a gentle pat, smiling fondly, "I feel like a whole damn princess, my darling." They were briefly interrupted and Wick's brow rose at the guard's words, but she didn't ask for clarification. Her king would tell her if it was important...

Instead, smiling, she gestured ahead of them, "Find us a table, would you? I'd like to go say hullo to Puddles and make sure he's prepared to deliver tomorrow." Leaning up onto her toes, she pressed a kiss to his jawline, and with a wink, separated herself from his side.

Her steps carried confidence, even as her heart gave an unconscious, uneasy throb. Poise...

Pausing at the slightly crowded table, she leaned down near where the young felon sat, "Little Lamb. A word... Por favor?"
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consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
The Wicked Witch Arrives
with Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

River could feel Wick’s presence before she had even cleared her throat. He sat close to Chloe, mind spinning with the events of the first round, before and after. All the hungry looks that prisoners had shot him, the conversation with Bah, Chloe, Luca, and then Hana. There was turmoil in his gut, but being close to his friends, his family… made it less. Wick, in her sauntering over, brought it right back.

But he did not shrivel, taking a deep, angry breath, glaring at his barely touched prison gruel. “Puta.” He hissed under his breath, before standing up abruptly. “Just leave them alone, okay? We’ll go.”

“Tisk tisk, Puddle…” With a small smirk, she straightened as he did, “Such a dirty mouth for our little pup. Your friends will be fine. I just need a moment.” Gesturing, she nodded towards the edge of the cafeteria, away from the crowded tables, “We'll just be a moment.”

Gnashing his teeth together, River glared daggers at Wick, almost wishing they could be real. He gave the others what was supposed to be a reassuring nod, but the distaste in his expression was too prevalent to ignore. He followed Wick to the edge, fists balled at his sides. “What is it?” River muttered. “What else do you want from me?”

Still smiling, Wick shook her head as she tucked her hands behind her back, “So brave, aren't we… But then… you're a killer now, aren't you? Not our little weeping willow, anymore. So brave. It's charming.” Turning to face him, the smile faded and her eyes honed in on his, fixed, cold, “...Heading to the infirmary… when the fight ended. You may have overheard a certain… name. A mistake. I assure you, a rare occurrence. What I want from you… is to forget it. Immediately and permanently. Understand?”

“I a-already was a killer.” River hissed, eyes glassy. He hated the way her eyes glared straight through him, but refused to look away no matter how watery his own were growing. “And if I don’t?” River said, voice on the edge of a threatening whisper. “C-Cameron, huh? Y-your ex-lover? Your b-brother? Y-your… whatever? Cameron C-Cameron C-C-Cameron!”

“I'm sure you were, sweetie.” Wick answered, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As he went on, however, her amusement flickered away. Stepping close, she kept her eyes locked to his, voice even, too even, “If you don't, the first one to go is the pretty blonde. Maybe a knife in the back during arts and craft… maybe an unfortunate fall. Hmm… a pillow over that darling face. After her, her little lover boy. Then the addict. The giant…” Pausing, she shrugged, “I think I've made my point.”

There was an obvious amount of fear in River’s eyes, but it was not the only emotion swirling evidently beneath his brown orbs. A fire, a determination, even if misplaced still raged within him. At first all her threats drained the color from his face, and yet, the rage didn’t leave.

“Y-you’re… a… liar.” He decided, without stepping down an inch. “You’re not a r-real psycho, r-r-remember? Y-you told me s-so. Y-you won’t. Y-you… d-don’t… own me.”

“You aren't wrong, Precious. I'm not. But one does not need to be crazy… to kill.” The smile inched back, and Wick tipped her head to the side, her eyes twisting casually over to the table they had walked away from, “And I will, Puddles. I will rip every single one of them from your hands and make you feel their ends.” Looking at him again, she shrugged, “Now… What was that name again?”

Instinctively River stepped in front of her, blocking her view from the table, steam pouring out of his nose and ears. “N-no. Y-you won’t. Because you can t-t-try, but I’m a killer too. And I’m really good at it.”

Almost shaking out of pure anger, River parted his lips. “Cam. Er. On.”

Laughing, faintly, an oddly icy sound, Wick shook her head, “So do it. Go on, Puddle. Kill me. Because I swear to you… I will end each and every one of them…. And I won't hesitate.”

River searched Wick’s gaze, hoping for her to break. Hoping for his act of bravery to somehow stun her into submission. But it didn’t happen. He took a step back. “I-I… w-w-won’t hesitate e-either.” River mumbled, trying to regain his confidence, but lacking the earlier conviction. “D-don’t touch th-them.”

“I won't need to. Don't you get it, River? I own more than you can imagine, and all I need to do is tell him what I want and it will be done. So let's try this one more time.” Meeting his gaze, her own steeled over, “What was the name?”

Another step back. River’s eyes darted between Wick and the table ahead of her. “W-why a-are you d-doing this? Wh-what good a-am I to you if I j-just remind you o-of someone y-you want to b-b-bury?”

“Don't…” Eyes narrowing, Wick took a small step back, but her expression barely shifted as she recovered herself immediately, “Don't you pretend to know anything about this. Just… play your part. That's all you have to do.”

“W-what p-p-part is that?” River growled, seeing that pause, the crack in her armor. He stepped forward, resuming the gap between them. “S-so h-he’s someone d-dead then, huh? S-someone you want back? S-someone you want to hurt, s-so you’re doing it to m-me?”

Hand lashing out, Wick grabbed the front of his collar, fist tightening around the gaudy orange fabric of his jumpsuit, eyes flaring, “What did I just say?! One more stupid question and you are gonna regret it, am I clear.”

River barely even flinched, even though his heart leapt in panic. So many times Dante had bent his will, made him so pliable that he was barely a person at all. Not anymore. Not anyone else. And he could see the cracks in Wick’s facade. Something had broken, given. He’d made a dent. And with that knowledge, River was not ready to give up. Not when he finally had something to fight for.

“You might think y-you’re special, Wick,” River said through a hiss, staring into her eyes as they flared, “B-but I’ve been living in hell l-long before you came around… only difference is… t-this time.. I’m n-not r-ready to break.”

Smoothing out his collar, Wick's expression shifted. A sudden indifference. Not cold. Not angry. Blank. Empty. Hollow. Stepping back, she brushed the front of her own uniform, “Then you'd better say your goodbyes. Because if you aren't going to heed my warnings, apparently, you require a demonstration.”

The sudden shift in Wick’s eyes sent a chill down River’s spine, but he had come too far to crumble in front of her again. “If you t-touch them… I-I’ll bury you right next to wherever the hell C-Cameron is.”

“There is no 'if’. You had one part in this and you've failed, Puddle.” Smiling faintly, the edges of her gaze still void of emotions, she shook her head, “You gonna bury me you'd better do it fast, because I promise you… I won't hesitate to destroy every single one of them. You struck a match, little pup. Watch me burn.”

River growled, but said nothing, even as his fingernails dug into the palms of his clenched fists. “Veta a la mierda, Wick. Fuck you.”

“You'll regret these actions… I promise.” Smiling a crooked smile, she back up from him, “Now if you'll excuse me… I've got to speak to Fritz. We have so much to discuss.” As she turned, her finger rose and pointed towards his table, dancing in the air over those present, “Eenie, meenie… miney mo…”

Anger rolled off of River in waves, fumes billowing out of him. It felt like he had just had a brush with a touch of control, something he had never had in his entire life. But as Wick turned around, her hungry eyes scowering over the table, threatening to take everything from him, his heart sunk.

“W-Wick… s..stop.” River stuttered, paling. “Stop, j-just… st…” He couldn’t be responsible for their hurt when he’d already been responsible for so much. “Wh...what… name?”

So close. So damn close. But he wasn't ready… not yet. Soon. But not yet.

Without looking at him, lip twitching up, her hand dropped to her side, “Good boy. Rest up tonight, Puddles. Tomorrow's fight is sure to be eventful.” Turning on her heels, she crossed the room to where Fritz sat, sinking down beside him with a pleased expression. After a moment, slowly, deliberately, she leaned close to the red haired man and whispered something into his ear.

River’s posture crumbled. He stayed frozen in position, even as she sauntered away, trembling. There was no way out of this. No matter how courageous he felt… she would always crush him under her thumb like a bug. That little whisper in Fritz’s ear… was she taunting him… or making his worst nightmares come true?

Every step back to the table felt like he was sinking deeper into some abyss. Quicksand. Shaking head to toe, River sunk beside Chloe once more, staring blankly into space. No way out. Never any way out.
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
DF: Freezer Burn | Location: Cafeteria/Kitchen | Interactions: Jumbo & Guard

The blisters upon his face had migrated. All in one direction. Towards a single point in the upper right of his cheek, near the sensitive edge of his ear. Most days, during the full length of those days, they burned and throbbed. Never in sync, always in chaotic and mocking dissonance. The pain scared Jumbo.

It terrified him.

He’d never experience such a sensation before. The seering of flesh against hot metal, the grill peeling away crispy trenches of his face and leaving behind exposed, cauterized tissue… Never. He’d never known such a feeling. Why did he have to know it? The cannibal didn’t know a lot of things--he barely knew how to speak right. Couldn’t write, nothing comprehensible. Couldn’t read good enough to avoid Fritz’s wrath… But he could draw. Sort of. Well, not to the point of where others could tell what he’s going for.

Sometimes that made him angry. No, sad? Both? A feeling that he didn’t know the name to and would probably never understand it to be frustration. Helplessness. Lost. Swimming in a ever-moving mosaic pool of sensory overload--colors, feelings, noises, loud and horrific noises that coated his innards with ice, anger, anger from his master, screams from the people around him, confusion, confusion, confusion, hunger, confusion, fear, confusion, confusion, confusion--

“Out! Fucking ape!”

Light pierced the darkness and the first thing Jumbo saw was his breath condensing before him, a sluggish glob of white. Then, an inky black silhouette framed by the illuminance spilling in behind them. Next, its hand shot out and viciously yanked him forward by the collar. Jumbo whimpered, stumbling out of the freezer before falling to his knees before the guard. His grip upon the cannibal’s jumper remained and the angle wrapped his neck in coiling fabric, on the verge of cutting off his air supply.

“Up!” the guard snarled. He gave another pull, this time cutting off the prisoner’s oxygen completely, and all he received was a choked sob. Frigid tears coated a freckled face, some flaking and hardened against Jumbo’s blisters. The rotund prisoner shook his head, nails digging into his collar, prying, trying with every bit of his dwindling will to loosen the pressure.

An annoyed scoff. The guard’s boot swiftly slammed into Jumbo’s gut, lips twisting into a lop-sided grin as a groan hit his ears, before forcing him onto his feet. Dragging. Dragging and dragging and pulling and demanding and ordering and obeying--Jumbo wondered if that kind of stuff ended. Did things end? He knew some things did. Sort of. He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think straight. So he continued to exist in that limbo loop and struggled to follow, before finding himself shoved into a seat. Metal chair. And it wasn’t a neat toss, let alone a neat landing.

He smacked into it with a sharp clang before tumbling, the cheap folded item biting into his body as it landed atop of him. He groaned, failing to move an inch at first, before clumsily setting the chair upright. He plopped into his, peering up at the guard through thick and chilled eyelashes.

And then his personal space was invaded, suddenly, harshly, and the cold meats of the guard’s breath wafted into his nostrils. A demented glee twisted his features. “Five minutes, ass eater,” he cackled before slapping a firm hand to Jumbo’s shoulder, making the cannibal flinch, “Five… Minutes.”

Jumbo didn’t know how much five was. But it was more…? Higher? Higher than the third time he was told this. Five minutes. Five minutes of sitting and waiting and thawing.

Before he was ripped from his seat and tossed back into the freezer.

Jumbo hated discipline.

Tags: KatSea KatSea , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Flashback: Thank You For Everything | Location: Earth

His spine smacked into cold, hard tile. Wind rushed from his lungs, his diaphragm and stomach heaving with every ragged cough. Iron stained the back of his tongue and streamed past his lips, the curvature of his bruising jaw--

“You think you can take him away from me? Huh?”

A swift kick to the ribs. There was the echo, the agonizing vibration of a something snapping. It rippled through the cavities of his chest.

“My prize? My moneymaker?!”

Another kick, this one harder than the last and forcing him onto his side. A pained gurgle bubbled up his throat, threatening to drown him in his own blood. His eyes burned. The world could burn, for all he cared. It didn’t deserve to live. Didn’t deserve a single damn thing after all it had done to…

Slowly, he tried to crawl away. Further and further into the kitchen, his eyes landing sluggishly on the counter where a knife rested.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going…” An arm scooped under him, shoving broken ribs against vulnerable organs, and he bit back a whimper. The other first curled into his dark hair, dragging him back. Hopeless. Weak. Why did he have to be so fucking weak? He just wanted to be stronger. Just strong enough to save him from all of this.

He was failing him.

“Mommy and daddy’s money couldn’t protect your nosey ass forever…” His breath, hot and putrid, rolled into his ear. No--invaded. Slithered. Until a violent shiver raced down his spine and back up again. Fingers dug even deeper into his aching torso, nails scraping away at bloodied clothes. “I’m his only master. I’m all that he knows. And I’m not letting you fuck up all of my hard work--


A blood curdling scream.

The man released him, crumbling to the floor and hands trembling violently around the exposed, jagged stub of his femur. “You… y-you son of a bitch!” he howled, seething in absolute rage and pain as he glared at the figure looming over him. It lowered, slowly, with the motions of someone teetering on the precarious edge of sanity. Or was it freedom? Both. It had to be both.

And both hands curled around the man’s throat.

His voice was fragile and softer than the beating of a butterfly’s wing, yet it somehow boomed over the gasps and strangled garbling. And yet, even as he spoke, his gaze landed on the boy, who stood frozen in shock.

Snowman smiled at Gram. “I can do it… I… I refuse to make you a killer.”

Gram shook his head. “Don’t…” His hands curled into trembling fists. “Don’t you fucking… dare do it…”

Snowman chuckled again, but it could’ve been sob. His grip increased tenfold, all eyes on Gram, not a single glance spared at the writhing body underneath him. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me…” A tear rolled down his pale cheek. “Now I get to repay you.”

Gram rushed forward. “Don’t!”



Tags: CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , KatSea KatSea

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Flashback: Four Stomachs | Location: Earth, Russia

“Kroshka…” An extensive sigh escaped, long and wrought with a playful breed of exasperation. He reached over the table, not at all bothered by the clanging of expensive silverware against fine china, and wiped away crumbs from the corner his little brother’s lips. “Manners, yes? You’re aware of them.”

“Nooo!” The boy flailed, his rosey cheeks puffed up with an exaggerated pout. However, his efforts were useless in the face of Adrian’s fretting, so he quickly gave up, arms flopping like stubby noodles. A low string of Russian syllables flowed from him, disgruntled and nonsensical. “Adriaaaaan, I can do it myself!”

“I fail to see that,” Adrian chuckled while settling back into his seat.

The royal dining hall was empty, devoid of the overwhelmingly pompous aura of the Fitzgerald family. Of course, it was to be expected. This vicinity of the castle was usually vacant outside of scheduled meals; however, Adrian took advantage of their strict ways. Very often, at that. It proved beneficial for him to practice in the kitchen without any eyes judging his every move and even more so to have the painfully honest tastebuds of his youngest brother posing as a judge for every dish he made.

“Well?” Adrian urged, a hint of amusement coloring his freckled visage. Nicolas had yet to say anything, although he had already ripped his way through half of the roast duck. It was achingly hilarious, to be honest. The comically narrowed eyes, the stubbornly pinched lips, the baseless humming under his breath--he was adhering to the role so intensely, that he’d forgotten to fulfill his job in the first place.

“Iiiiit’s…” Nicolas gave pause, trying to pile on the suspense. Then, he beamed. “Good!”

Adrian tried to feign pleasant surprise, but his acting skills weren’t of top priority. Besides, it was never terribly hard to convince Nicolas otherwise. The elder brother heaved a gasp of delight, hands clasping together once with a resounding clap. “Ah! Yes! Wonderful! I must admit, Kroshka,” he wagged a finger in the boy’s direction, “You had me dangling by the edge of my seat, really! Don’t do that to my weak heart.”

In response, Nicolas’s smile twisted into a goofy snarl, bits of duck and sauce splattering his teeth. It was a disgusting sight but the glee radiating from him helped to soften the blow. If only a little. “Adri, can I get more?” he asked.

Adrian scoffed in disbelief. “You have not even finished your first plate.”

“I willlllll!”

“I have my doubts.”

“Then don’t!” Nicolas mustered as much fortitude as he could in an attempt to crank out a miserable groan, but he, similar to his brother, was also a terrible actor. The last of his exclamation shook with a giggle, his button nose scrunching up. “I’ve got, I’ve got…! Um… Two stomachs! So I can do it.”

Adrian cocked his head, clearly unimpressed. “Oh? So you’re a cow now?”


A grin pulled at Adrian’s lips. “Incorrect. Cows have four stomachs, not two.”

“Cheater!” Nicolas heaved a groan of annoyance, his head meeting the table with an audible thud.

A beat of silence.

“...I still want seconds.”

“Yes, yes,” Adrian chuckled. He stood, looping around the table to ruffle his brother’s hair before waltzing towards the kitchen, “I’ll look into making some more, Kroshka.”

Nicolas’s cheer echoed throughout the chamber.


“Wha… W-what did you do…?”

Silence. Deadly. Unmoving. Suffocating. Nothing but the shuddering sobs of his father filled the bedroom. It still smelled of Nicolas. Still reeked of his musk after spending hours playing with the steeds and wallowing the grass of grandfather’s golf course.

Adrian pounced, seizing his father by the collar and barreling forward. His back smashed into the dresser, glass shattering against his back, piercing the fine cloth of his suit.

“What did you fucking do?!”

“What I had to!” His father’s wail was one of anguish, of a seething regret that he had no choice but to accept with open, crippled arms. Spittle flowed down his chin, mixing with mucus and tears. He clamped around Adrian’s fists with his own boney, trembling fingers. Liver spots. So many liver spots. He’d seen so many years. “You… are the heir. The rightful heir.” His bloodshot eyes glistened. “A-and I had to do… what was right.”

“You’re… fucking filth!” Adrian reeled his fist back, knuckles trembling and white, taut with a fury and pain unmatched. However, trampling feet stopped him in his tracks and a female figure burst into the bedroom. Mother.

“What’s going on in here? I…” Then she froze. And she paled, far paler than any of the Fitzgerald’s have ever been in their history of existence. “O-oh gods… Oh gods…” Her gaze fell upon the blood seeping through her husband’s clothes, then to the shattered glass, and finally to Adrian’s fists.

Her legs threatened to give out then and there.

“My son, w-what’re you…? And on this day!” Her voice cracked and crumbled with agony, hands slapping over her pounding heart. “Let your father go! You! Y-you! You’re disgracing Nicolas’s name! T-take your petty fights elsewhere! Now!”

“Petty?” Adrian released his father, blazing eyes now trained on the woman. He advanced slowly, nearly staggering from the waves of rage bubbling through his veins. The audacity… The damnable audacity! He loomed over her, a dark rage twisting his features until he resembled the red-haired Devil himself. “There’s nothing petty about the vile stench on this family’s name. The only redeeming quality about us…”

He glanced over his shoulder, setting his father aflame with a glare embodying the utter essence of hatred. “And you erased it.”


He slammed the door frame next to his mother, drinking in her yelp and violent flinch. Soaking up the nervous sweat gathering above her brow. Utterly gorging himself upon the fear filling his little brother’s bedroom.

His voice escaped like the hiss of a snake. “You want your heir? I’ll give you the worst one you’ve ever laid your eyes on.” His arm lowered, pure disgust painting him from head to toe. “Maybe then you’ll understand remorse…”

Adrian paused. Basked in the moment of ground-shaking silence. Basked in the memories that clawed at the cusp of skull with every skimming of the room. Exhaling shakily, he rushed out of the room, leaving his parents to marinate in their own pool of bullshit.

It was time to raise some hell.

Note: Kroshka = Breadcrumb

Tags: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea


Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
An Immaculate Conception

"Alright alright...I gotta do something that's gonna knock all of you bitches out of here..." A peach, freshly manicured nail clanked against the thick skull of the woman across from Chloe. God. It was four in the morning. Chloe was exhausted, her stomach was throbbing and bloated, despite having been well concealed by the lace blouse she had borrowed from her own mother. But, there was a sense of relief in the basement of good old Rosemary Picard, having taken the gaunt and stammering Chloe under her wing as an act of charity (or humiliation, it really wasn't clear). In all, Chloe did feel safe under the roof where her own personal Creeper did not reside. She recalled naming him after the Scooby Doo villain who used to plague her screen, the sluggish, devilish villain a representation of something she saw everyday. She didn't understand why those hippie teenagers feared him so much. Even with the mask. He was just an overall dick messing with a bunch of high teenagers (and in a way, she applauded him for it. It sounded like a fun afternoon).

"Mmm, well, most of us have four fingers up, Rose~ Shouldn't be too hard." Another squeal emitted from beside Chloe, a metal clad young teen with a grin as wide as the divide between the Earth and the moon. However, Chloe did find the taller, awkward teenager endearing. You and I have one finger up Jenna. I think its gonna be a battle royal between us. Never have I ever gone without food for a couple of days? Oh! Maybe for you I should do never have I ever cheated on alll, and I do mean all, of your bio tests. Its okay. Human anatomy is a gross subject anyway, babe.

"Hmm, well, lets see, we've all seen a boy naked...A lot of us have gotten wasted. I feel like we are missing a very important question. Ah yes, I can't believe I am saying this, and it's only because I'm still waiting for Henry S to get over his own shit and ask me out...Never have I ever lost my virginity."

Oh fucking hell...Oh! Sorry Sorry!! I didn't mean to think that word! Oh God I hope my little guy didn't hear that...Sorry sweetie, sorry...

"Er..." Words escaped Chloe before she even had a chance to silence herself, her demeanor a cream white mask. Horror tried to seep into her eyes, but a simple smile merely pulled at her lips instead. "W-w-w-well...e-e-er. E-everyone I think h-has..." Swallowing as words lingered in her throat, her cheeks soon erupted into flames, pink inflicting the entirety of her neck. "D-d-different, er...er...I-interpretations?"

"Oh?" Rosemary's once cheery, blissfully ignorant visage soon twisted with confusion. "Well, er, what do you mean? Virginity is when you have sex for the first time, isn't it?"

"Well, maybe Clo has a point! Some people see virginity as different things. Traditionally it used to be like, I guess like, when the guy does his thing? At least that's what I used to hear all the time. I dunno, actually. Now there are all forms of sex, or at least I've rea-...heard. So I've heard."

Sweet baby Jenna reads smut? Oh God, why does anyone think this sort of thing is pleasurable or pretty? The only beauty of it is with you, little dude. Or dudette. Didn't mean to assume your gender, my love.

"Fair enough, I guess, why do you ask Clo?" Mischief gathering at her smudged red lips, Rosemary quirked a brow in Clo's direction. Despite having been splayed comfortably against the couch, Chloe's entire body tensed up.

"I-I d-don't k-know...G-g-guess some g-g-girls might h-have d-d-different e-experiences."

"Hell, she ain't wrong." Another girl, a quiet blonde peeped up from across the way, green eyes skimming past both Jenna and Rosemary. "Well, I suppose, to clear this sort of thing up, my interpretation of losing one's virginity is the act of any sort of sex that involves each party's consent. Doesn't matter the gender of the participants. Is that what you were gettin at Clo? Think some of us may have had partners of the same sex?"

Yes. Yes. That's exactly what I was thinkin. What? You don't expect me of all people to be a secret lesbian lover? No, it has to be other people at the circle. Makes sense, at the very least. I at least think I'd do better than some men...

"Y-yes. S-s-sorry. I-I was n-never r-really e-e-educated...o-on t-this, I-I mean." Bullshit. Unless you mean consent and actual pleasure...Oh sugar biscuits I swore again! and I was thinking about lesbian sex with my baby here with me! Oh God, I'm gonna need a filter with this little guy! Im sorry sweetie...Mama gonna get better at this. promise.

Her hand hovered to her stomach.

"Alright alright, since Clo so politely asked..." Rosemary cooed "Never have I ever participated in an act as mentioned above."

Four out of seven girl's raised a finger. Chloe's remained safely clutched into a fist, a hesitant smile on her face.

How does one have a miracle without losing their virginity? I...I don't know. I'm still a virgin, yet a mama. I wish...I wish I could still have you without the prior...But. I cannot complain. It's weird...I think I'm one of the only virgin mamas out there. Like Mary...Except, not quite. But for right now, I'm considering this an immaculate conception. Oh, little guy, I promise to go to sleep for you soon...and yeah. I can tell you are hungry for an omelet. At least I think, at least food wise, you and I are gonna get along just fine.
  • Sweet
Reactions: Mobley Eats


consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
Two's A Pair, Three's A Family... Kinda
with Mobley Eats Mobley Eats and Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

Switch couldn’t tell if she was on the verge of vomiting because of her piss-poor excuse for a brain or because of the incredulous smile plastered across Pan’s face. Either way, she felt sick. And she wasn’t used to this anxiety--at all. Especially not around her cellmate.

But the guilt lingered. Hell did it linger and she almost toyed with the idea of spilling everything just to feel normal again--

But then her worries were assuaged. The sweat on the back of her neck cooled. And, above all else, she took back everything she was thinking a mere moment ago. Screw that; Switch would rather chew off her own damn foot than to bring anymore bullshit into Pan’s life.

A hand shot out to catch the chair, her lazy grin making a grand comeback, before sinking down with a plop. “Hell yeah I’m one of the cool kids… I’ve got dibs on the pothead hippy,” she chuckled, eyes briefly straying over to Twitch before forcing them back onto Pan.

There was a lot rattling around in Abe’s head right now. The deal they’d settled with Gram, the shit with Switch, the next round of the fights… There was so much potential for disaster, too many corners he couldn’t see past. One hand running through his hair and the other drumming against the table, Abe blinked back to reality once Switch reached their table.

He shot her a nervous smile, sitting up a little straighter to keep both the women in his view, exhaling slightly as Pan welcomed Switch without any reservations. Abe rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small laugh. “Why of all things would you want to be the pothead hippy?” Are these two gonna talk to each other or am I just going to have to pretend I don’t know shit for the rest of my life. How the hell were they going to tell Switch about the plan? Was it even safe to tell Switch about the plan right, here in the open?

“...Maybe pothead hippy isn’t so bad.” Abe muttered gruffly after a moment of introspection.

"So…" Pan started, looking down at her tray of slop, "In the effort of avoiding the most awkward dinner, ever… Whatever you've got goin' on, don't care. Don't need to know. You're family, Switch, and family doesn't nag for answers you don't rightly wanna give. So long as you know I've got your back…"

Glancing up, her eyes shifted between Switch and Abe, "I didn't want half the ship knowing my name… But thanks to the Demon Queen, they do. Secrets are secrets for a reason. You're entitled to yours."

Smiling dryly, she shrugged, "Now… with that out of the way… We uh… had a chat today, with our favorite little serial killer psychopath. Turns out we have a common enemy." Tapping her chin, her smile grew, "Course… we can't just chat about it out in the open. No clue who might be listening in on every little thing we do."

“See?” Switch gestured plainly to Abe, the onset of a lazy smile tugging at her lips, though it didn’t have long to live… Oh. Fuck. Wow--screw you too, brain. I mean really? My thoughts seriously had to go there? If Switch wasn’t currently conversing with her friends, she would’ve rolled her eyes. “Twitch here gets it. Hippy potheads got it good.”

However, whatever nonchalance she had fought tooth and nail to gather shattered the moment Pan spoke and she found herself flailing for words. Her mind was shooting blanks. Thus, all the prisoner could do was pick at her fingernails under the table while nodding, shooting her cellmate a grateful look. “Thanks, Pan… Seriously.”

Annnnnnd now she was confused again. For fuck’s sake.

A pause. Then, Switch sat forward, taking a moment to clean out her ear. “Uh… I’m sorry, you spoke with head honcho psycho and didn’t come out of it with an instilled fear of murderous clowns? How?” she asked incredulously, “And what did you even talk about? And why… Just… I could really use some hippy weed right now.”

Abe exhaled slightly. At least Pandora wasn’t gonna press for the secret to come out, but Abe couldn’t understand why Switch wouldn’t just spit it out already. Now it was stuck like a lump in his throat.

“He made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.” Abe said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. The hand placed comfortingly at the back of his neck twitched and tremored. There was so much that could go wrong. Was he really supposed to believe that Romana would just… stop paying attention to those at the top of the leaderboard? Hell, it was still hurting his brain to think about the fact that they were a goddamn reality TV show.

“I… don’t think we should talk about it here.” He huffed, finally peeling his gaze away from the surrounding area and back to the two women. “I’m a little worried Archer will kill us before we even make it happen.”

"That dick? Only thing he's gonna kill up here is a hell of a lot of time. He looks at any of you funny and he's gonna be seeing what it's like to talk out of his ass, less figuratively. I'm not worried about Archie. But Twitchy's right… not the place to chat about our benevolent dictator." Frowning, Pan leaned back, arms behind her head, "When's the last time you thought about home, Switch?"

“An… offer…?” Switch echoed unsurely, gaze switching back and forth (pun intended) between them and analyzing them for any hint of doubt, any sign of a joke peeking over the horizon. However, she failed to spot any and with that realization came a heavy weight crashing over her shoulders. The actual fuck is going on here? “Well, I can at least agree that you’ve got nothing to worry about with Archer. He’s all mind games, to be honest, and that shit’s never bothered me in the past.” She almost snorted at the bittersweet irony, but chose to bite it back.

At Pan’s question, Switch stiffened, pure disbelief running up the shoots of her veins like magma. Her nose scrunched up with a subtle grimace. “Never… Why’re you asking?”

Even though the question wasn’t directed at him, Abe’s stomach turned uncomfortably at the mention of home. It was a horrifying thought. No, if he was getting off this damned ship he wasn’t going home, because it didn’t exist. Some other side of the planet sounded nice.

“Think of home as… Earth.” Abe offered, sitting up slightly. He knew Switch’s family life was less than desirable. “Think about finally leaving this hell hole.” Don’t think about how bad it’ll be if this plan goes down the bloody toilet.

“Just… you know… hypothetical, and all. If you could get off this damn hell-ship and go home. What would you do? Guess I’ve been thinking a lot about it, since our chat with ol’ Gram Reaper.” At that comment, Pandora looked up, her eyes focused on Switch’s with a sudden intensity - it was as close as she dared, at the moment, to get to the point.

“O… kayyyy?” Switch said cautiously. “I’ve honestly been thinking--no, dreaming of that since I stepped foot on this hunk of space metal. So… what about it--” But then she locked eyes with Pan, the sudden intensity diving so deeply into her soul that her fingers curled into fists on the table. They… Were they being fucking serious? And with the top serial killer of Hagur? She squirmed a bit in her seat, feeling almost helpless from the onslaught of absurdity, of a terrifying fantasy teasing the cusp of reality. “I… So… Hypothetically,” she started slowly, “If that were the case… A private place to talk would be good.”


If it was any new voice, Switch would’ve jumped out of her skin while scrambling to shove her soul back into her body; however, that wasn’t the case with this one. It was male and even more so than that, a familiar and heavily accented one. Bungee plopped down next to her, not at all awaiting permission from Pan or Abe. “I never had the chance of word trading with you in the infirmary,” he said lowly.

“Oh… Bung, don’t worry about that,” Switch said, her form relaxing instantly and a teasing grin pulling at her lips. She nudged the man. “Or me. I’m all good, yeah?” Bungee grumbled in clear disagreement, but didn’t have a real response to her stubbornness. “Ah, the grumbles of wove. Music to my ears,” she chuckled before focusing on Pan and Abe again, “Uh… Shit, wait. This is actually a bad time, isn’t it?”

Abe grinded his teeth together. The tension was palpable, especially with all of Pan’s intense stares towards Switch. He sunk into his seat slightly, wishing he had a better hand to play in this mess of a situation. He was about to suggest they move when Bungee sat down.

Abraham very audibly groaned, dragging a hand down from his hair over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a bad time. Bungee… my man… would you just… you know.” Abe gestured to the direction he’d come from with a head tilt, which didn’t really mean much because his head was twitching anyway.

"Yeah…" Pan agreed, with a grimace, "Not the best timing…" but she wasn't thinking solely about their conversation. She had caught the tail end of the last fight, and she was pretty sure sitting cozy with an enemy of the Red Haired Devil and his psychopath girlfriend wasn't a great position… "Bold of you, walkin' around after that fight."

Bungee cut a glare in Abe’s direction, toying with the idea of shooting back a scathing remark; he never really had patience for any prisoner aside from the woman sitting next to him but, as always, he stuck true to his methods and ignored the reactions altogether. Grumbling, he gave Switch a quick look up and down, scanning her with a critical eye. “You are the still in stock?” he asked lowly.

Switch shrugged, humming casually as if she was mulling over the question. “Sure.” However, she cringed somewhat at her cellmate and friend’s response to Bungee’s arrival. She couldn’t really blame them, though. Bungee wasn’t exactly the likable type. “Uh… Shit, Bunge, hate to say this but they’re kinda right. Now’s not a good time.”

Bungee’s eyes narrowed. He remained stubbornly where he was. “Sure is not the good enough of an answer,” he said, “And I walk wherever the fuck I of please.”

“Ah, somebody’s extra grumpy today.”

“Not in the mood of jokes, Chava,” he growled. “You need to do the restock, don’t you? Do not the lie to me.” In response, Switch focused on her food, his words going through one ear and out the other, though she gave his knee a comforting pat under the table.

Abe looked between the two, aggravation building. His twitches were growing a little more rapid, more violent, and the thumbnail he had jammed between his teeth was having a hard time staying there. All this small talk, Switch’s dismissive jokes. He knew what restocking meant. He knew, and he could tell by the way Switch was avoiding Bungee that it was damn necessary too.

Fuck, fuck it all. He shot Switch a look before turning to Pan, teeth grinding. “This is fucked, Pan. It’s fucked. There’s no way it’s gonna go right. No way in hell.” As much as he hated to admit it… it would be especially true if they involved Switch.

"Hey. Keep it together, Twitch." Shifting, the was an uncharacteristic softness to Pandora's expression, as she looked to Abe, shaking her head, "Little optimism, sugar. We can't afford to think that way." Fingers curling around his, she looked over to Bungee and the softness was gone, "She'll take care of herself, tall, dark and irritating. We'll make sure of it. Now quit pushin' her around before you end up in the infirmary twice in one day. We're all a little on edge and I don't think any of us can be held accountable should we have an unfortunate reaction to stress. Besides… Pretty sure old Fritzy's lookin' your way."

Bungee shot Abe a suspicious glance, his obvious paranoia not quite settling well in his stomach. Twitch was known around Hagur for his occasionally explosive behavior, but the sheer amount of frantic agitation oozing from his words was a tad unexpected. Unusual.

Regardless, the glare returned upon hearing Pan’s not-so-subtle threat. “She clearly the hasn’t been taking care of herself,” he hissed while pinning Switch with a glare, who avoided the look at all costs. The casualness behind the action just annoyed him further. His nose scrunched up, looking at Pan as if she grew a second head. “You actually the think I give fucks about that? This!” He placed a hand upon Switch’s shoulder. “This idiot is the all that matters! Especially if the idiot has to re. Stock.”

“Bunge, come on… You’re gonna pop a blood vessel,” Switch muttered, the playful tone persisting, yet weakening as his worry continued to wash over her. Fuck… She’d forgotten just that quickly that he, along with all of Hagur, had seen her seizure during round one.

“No,” Bungee growled while leaning forward, forehead meeting the right of her skull while palming the other side. Switch didn’t flinch from the gesture; she merely let it happen. It usually helped to calm his nerves anyhow. “You the fucking come on.”

“...That was like the equivalent of I know you are but what am I,” Switch said.

Bungee grimaced, but did nothing more than scoff in response.

“Pan.” Abe growled, eyes widening as he registered the calm threat she’d thrown Bungee’s way. A little optimism. A little optimism, right? A little optimism and then they’d all fucking die, but god did he wanted to feel the sun again, he wanted to kick up some grass. But not like this. Abe knew It wouldn’t happen like this.

Scooting forward in his seat, trying to block Pan from Bungee, Abe looked the other man in the eye. “Listen.” He said firmly. “You saw me. In the round. You saw me, right? You saw her but you saw me. I’ll make sure she restocks. Just give us ten. Damn. Minutes.” So I can tell them how bad of an idea this is.

"Switch ain't gonna keel over on my watch, Bungee." Pan sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose, "So maybe quit acting like you're the only person who gives a damn. We need a minute. Pretend you've got some damn courtesy in you and beat it…"

Bungee and Switch visibly twitched at the “keel over” comment, but the latter recovered rather quickly, her indifferent mask set back in place like a professional. Whatever eye contact the agitated had established with Abe was lost, his thoughts once again clouded over with annoyance, vaguely wondering why Chava was close to this bitch in the first place. Especially now that she was on sight…

He shook off the thought and merely shot Pan a sneer. “You ask the courtesy in prison?” A low scoff. “Chava, why you the waste your time with this bitch--”

“Ooookay,” Switch interrupted, a hint of nervousness in her tone as she placed a hand upon Bungee’s shoulder. She loved this idiot like family and because he was family, she’d rather not have him break any bones from talking too much. Giving a gentle squeeze, she whispered to him, “Listen, just… cool it, alright? Yes. I… I gotta restock, alright? Happy?”

Bungree frowned. “Not in the slightest…” His gaze fell on Abe and Pan once more. There seemed to be a slew of venomous words on his tongue, but he just barely held back. For Chava’s sake.

Abe cringed at Pan’s vicious bite back, still leaning forward protectively in an attempt to act as a barrier. “Pan.” He hissed under his breath. Damnit. This was supposed to be smooth.. they didn’t need to make enemies, especially out of Switch’s friends, and he’d almost had the situation under control. Now, Abe could feel the anger radiating from Bungee, and if Pan wanted to act like a loose cannon..

“We’ll revisit this later.” Abe muttered, giving Switch an apologetic look before standing up, abandoning his uneaten food. He lightly wrapped a hand around Pan’s arm and nudged her to come along with him.

"When, Abe? We don't exactly have a plethora of time to discuss things." Irritation rippled through her words, but Pandora made no efforts to shake off, nor did she move to stand, "Maybe instead of discussing things around her like she's a damn child we can just ask Switch what she wants to do? Cause hell if I let anyone make my decisions for me."

“Uh…” Switch shifted uncomfortably, her brain scrambling for the right thing to say; anyway to diffuse the tension piling more and more by the second. “Err, listen, we all just need to… cool down for a sec and woosaw, alright?” She didn’t know how to feel--about anything. Again, she loved Bungee, but at the same time, no one could really understand nor put up with his attitude like she could. She appreciated his presence, she always would, but his negative energy seemed to be stirring up aggravation in the others. Biting back an apologetic sigh, she copied Bungee’s earlier action of resting her forehead against this temple and muttered, “I hear you loud and clear, alright? We’ll talk more tomorrow. Promise.”

Bungee stiffened a moment, his jaw proving to clench even tighter. His glare switched among the trio critically, before he finally heaved a huff of annoyance and disgust. He hated Hagur and nearly every prisoner on this space metal from Hell. “Fine,” he growled. Shooting Switch one last warning look, he stood with his tray in hand, and pinned Abe down with a meaningful glower. “I did the see you… Keep it up and you the might not piss me off so much.”

Without sparing the squabbling pair another glance, he left. Well, stomped off.

“Welp…” Switch cleared her throat awkwardly. “That happened.”

Abe ground his teeth together, taking his hand off of Pandora as he sat back down, watching Bungee leave. He ran a twitching hand through his hair, letting his gaze fall back on the gruel in front of him. “Didn’t mean for it to go like that, Switch.” His gaze settled on Pan, fingers drumming nervously on the table.

“We aren’t discussing anything around anyone.” He muttered. “That was unnecessary, Pan. Bungee was just…” Abe shook his head. Nevermind. “My problem here is… I don’t think we should go through with this plan at all. I know we agreed. But, listen, my whole gig down on earth was plans, and I know this one isn’t going to go right. I know it.” He made sure his voice was kept low, eyes roaming the mess hall, but tone still pouring with intention.

“Bungee was just, what? Trying to help? Taking care of Switch? Yeah. I get it. Apparently I’m the only person who doesn’t get to do that for some damn reason. You wanna keep me in the dark about everything that’s going on, that’s fine. I get it. Loyalty or whatever the hell it is. But you can’t expect me to understand any of the crap you people wanna discuss around me, if that’s the case. I said I wasn’t gonna ask, but don’t lecture me about the way I deal with Bungee when I’m the only one at the table who doesn’t get clued in, okay? You can’t blindfold someone and get pissed when they stumble, Abe.”

Frowning, Pan rose to her feet, fingers driving through her hair, “If you think we’ve got the luxury of saying no, you must’ve been in a different fight today. You think the next freak explosion or accident is gonna go so smoothly, Abe? You remember which one of us was holding that damn staff? “I can’t stay. You get it? I stay, I’m dead.” For a beat, just a second, there was a flicker of doubt in her gaze, of something Pandora never allowed anyone to see. There was fear. Uncertainty. And then just as quickly, it was gone, “So do what you want, but I have to at least try. Gotta do something.”

Switch merely grinned at Abe, letting the apologetic tone roll off her shoulders like water. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Twitch. Sometimes his rays of sunshine tend to give others sunburn.” She shrugged. “It’s no biggie… Uh… Oh boy.” And then tension piled up between him and Pan--and now Switch herself felt unease from the secondhand awkwardness. Jeez, gotta love a lover’s quarrel. Am I right?

She was wise enough not to voice that thought.

However, she reeled back a bit as Pan’s emotions started to climb more and more by the second. This entire conversation had been a damn rollercoaster ripped from the guts of Hell itself--on a Black Friday. What the hell were they going on about with this whole “staying or leaving” fiasco? Smoothing back her wild mane of waves and heaving a tired sigh, she did all she could to ignore the pounding in her skull and said, “Listen, guys. I… Sounds like we’re all stumbling in the dark right now. And it’s clearly making us a little crabby. I don’t wanna fuel any of the rage energy here and I got a gut feeling that I already am. So, uh…”

She grabbed her tray and stood.

“Just… Sorry for starting shit, I guess.” She flashed a strained grin. “I think I oughtta nap soon anyhow.”

Fuck. This was a mess. Abe opened his mouth and closed it over and over again, not sure what to say anymore. Pan was climbing hysteric mountain and Switch, classic Switch, took the high road and skedaddled. He took a while to respond, combing his hands through his hair as every part of his body spasmed with anxiety. Finally, he reached a hand out to Pan, pulling gently and tenderly at her arm, guiding her to sit back down.

“We’re gonna do something.” He said softly. “Switch’s business ain’t our business. It wasn’t even supposed to be mine, and I’m not gonna make it yours. This plan is bad for all of us. All. Of. Us.” One hand rested tightly on hers despite jittering every second, the other laying on his stomach. Pan had seen him undressed enough times to know the scar that lay beneath.

“I remember what happened today. And I’m not about to fucking forget it. But listen to me when I say, whatever shit Gram’s messed up in is a one way ticket to hell. We’ll find. Some. Way. Else. This is my shit, okay? I’m supposed to be good at this. I’m gonna figure it out and then we’ll figure it out.”

"You didn't start anything, Switch. Just… been a long day. Get some rest. We're cool." Sinking into the seat again, Pan frowned in thought, quiet for a moment, before looking up to meet Abe's gaze, "You're right. I know you are. But Abe, how the hell are we supposed to… We can't just tell him we changed our mind. This is Gram we're talkin' about. The guy who tried to turn you into mulch for touching his boytoy. Who, I don't think I need to remind you, ain't exactly Shirley Temple, himself…"

“Y… Yeah,” Switch muttered, grip tightening ever so slightly on her tray, “Good to know we’re cool. I’ll see you guys when I’m back in the land of the living.” Ah--that was a poorly framed joke, wasn’t it? Well, either way, she could take her words back. Not now. With a casual salute, she left the couple to handle their own… disagreements. It really wasn’t her place to butt in.

She just hoped they would reconcile soon.

Abe’s gaze followed Switch until she disappeared from his view, and then he bowed his head, brows scrunched together in deep thought. Every fiber of his being jumped with anxiety, lips pressed together, only to open when he had at least something worthwhile to say.

“We’ll give him someone else. Someone else who wants to jump head first into an idiot plan.” Abe muttered. “There’s always someone.”

“Plan’s in motion, Abe. Even if we could find somebody stupid enough to do it… someone Gram would accept, that we could throw into that blackhole… There’s not enough time. Not enough. You know as well as I do, it’s not something Gram is gonna sit on for long.” Turning to him, she frowned lightly, but her fingers curled around his, nonetheless, “I’m with you, whatever you wanna do… But you gotta be ready to have one hell of an enemy on our backs, if we decide to dick Gram over, right now. And if that happens… and we go into that second round of Fights? We might not get lucky, twice… You know?”

He squeezed her hand briefly, just for a moment, but for the rest of the time his fingers twitched and jumped in between hers. “I know,” Abe echoed, his voice now a broken whisper. “Fuck, Pan. Fuck.” There was no way out, was there? If what Gram was saying was true, if Romana was only turning a blind eye to high profilers, then… there was no one else to take their place. Not enough time to come up with something different.

“We’re just going to have to fucking… hope for the best.” It physically pained him to say that. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t, I fucking swear it. Hopefully… he wants out as bad as we do… hopefully that gives us the luck we need.”

Smiling dryly, Pan shook her head, “If it’s any consolation, Twitch… I don’t think we had a choice the minute we won that fight. Pretty sure that’s what Gram was banking on, one way or another.” Meeting his gaze, she nodded, an uncharacteristic softness to her eye, “...Just like it was in the fight though, we’ve got each other’s backs. That’s all we need to worry about. I don’t care what the hell happens to Gram or Snowman or Archer. This goes south, we let them burn.”

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Collab: Awkward Family Dinner KatSea KatSea , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay | Location: Cafeteria | Time: Dinner Period

“Oh.” Chiko blinked, confusion fluttering across her visage, before the brightness returned. She shrugged and plopped down at the table with everyone. “Mmkay then! I’m sure she’ll pop up whenevs. Heh!” The smugness that filled her threatened to spill over, her smile practically doubling in width. The tiny prisoner raised one arm to flex, though it wasn’t much underneath her baggy jumper. “It was nothing! Really--all that welding biz doesn’t go to waste, ya know? Bossed all over ‘em!”

Nevermind that they were tossed around like ragdolls from CWE explosions, Pan’s fury from Hell, and their overall shitty luck.

Details, details!

At Luca’s mentioning of her ankle, Chiko blew a raspberry and, with a grunt, raised her leg to drop her foot onto the table. She gestured to it with both hands as if she was presenting a prize. “Look at that! Lookit! Good as new, man. It’s wild what the nurses around here can do. Like some voodoo magic shiz!”

“You two joining us?”

The question pumped cement through Amit’s veins. He froze, the panic fluttering to new levels, though his expression remained stubbornly stoic. Of course, the look could’ve been helpful if it wasn’t for the nervous shifting about, fretting over whether to stay or leave. Gods… Gods! He didn’t like these people, not in the slightest. But he knew that Chiko was currently… unstable. If he left her now…

Shakily sucking in a gulp of air, Amit sat down next to Chiko, movements slow and rigid, even as he gently nudged her foot aside to make space for his tray. His gaze was locked onto his food, refusing to speak. Despite his attitude, Chiko seemed especially pleased and did a little jitter in her seat. “Awesome! Glad to have the whole crew here!”

As he opened his mouth to answer, their table was met by another arrival, and Luca frowned at the skinny brunette as she leaned over to address River. He had a few choice words prepared for Wicker but before he could say anything, River had risen and uttering a word that, frankly, surprised the other Latino man, he wandered off to talk to his fight partner.

Shaking his head, Luca looked to Bah, almost a silent plea for the mountain of a man to keep an eye on their smaller companion. With his own eyes half focused on River and Wick, he reached down to take Chloe’s hand beneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before he looked up to Chiko and Amit, “...Hell of a round you had… That explosion at the start. Odd, right?”

“G-glad t-t-to have y-you.” Chloe stammered, voice cheery despite her gaze being strictly averted towards River’s departure. Offering both Amit and Chiko(particularly her, there was always something of optimism that brought a little warmth to Chloe’s chest), a ghost of a smile, Chloe found herself patiently skimming her thumb along Luca’s wrist. Her focus, however, was on the young man across the way, heart fluttering with each little misstep the willowy brunette hopped to. There was a moment of pride as he returned, Chloe’s hand coming to the side of the table to pat a seat for him. Her arm delicately looped around his shoulders and, with a gentle squeeze, she gave him a reassuring ruffle of his locks. “P-proud, l-little c-carino.” Releasing him, she offered a cheeky grin and little wink before returning the squeeze to Luca’s hand. Prying her attention from River, but still keeping an attentive gaze from time to time, she redirected her sights to Chiko and Amit.

“K-kind o-o-of c-c-cool though. H-had t-t-to admit. S-s-show s-s-stopper. W-w-well, s-starter, I g-guess.”

River’s gaze was glassy and far off, and even at Chloe’s coos and head pats, he hardly moved, staring into a nonexistent abyss. After a delay, he looked up at her, tired eyes innocently confused. “Proud… of what?” He asked genuinely, tone hollow. Of his inability to stand up to Wick.. to keep them safe? There was nothing to be proud of. It didn’t seem he even expected a reply, as his gaze settled on the same point in space again, head bowed slightly and making no effort to include himself in the conversation.

Amit stiffened at the mention of Pan’s bomb, only to force himself to relax immediately after, biting the inside of his cheek so hard that he could’ve sworn he tasted blood. What was done was done. Wallowing in the regrets of past actions wouldn’t do him nor any of the others any good. He focused instead on Chloe’s… somewhat blinding sweetness and gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement, then snapped his gaze back down to the tray of slop.

He shoved a spoonful into his mouth, sweat collecting in his palms by the gallon.

Chiko’s brow pinched, taking note of her cellmate’s sweating and silence, before giving him a nudge. “Oi! You all good over there, Ami?” Amit didn’t give out anymore than a quick nod, in which Chiko answered with a shrug. “Mmkay, as long as you’re sure! Oh! River, my dude!” She bounced jovially in her seat, literally bathing him with the radiance of her smile. Perhaps more radiance than necessary. “Good to have you back! And don’t act like we didn’t watch you,” she cooed. Then, her arms jutted forward at rapid different angles, accenting each movement with a “pow”, “boom”, or “kablow”. “You were badass, man! Way cooler than my little snow eating ass,” she snorted.

“You were cool too…” Amit muttered under his breath, a tad too low in volume for anyone to catch. He continued eating.

Her fingertips brushing his wrist, Luca suppressed a pleasant shiver, before his gaze glanced over River, frowning lightly at the boy's shift… He imagined that most people would feel that way after having a private chat with Wick… but River was generally much more receptive of Chloe's gentle nature than that. Whatever had happened inside of him, during the fight, it wasn't improving.

"You did your team proud, Chiko. Really… Hell of a mess, these fights. Damn impressive, just comin' out in one piece."

Despite the desire to let self consciousness flood through her at Amit’s sudden glance, she offered him a soft beam in reply. Something told her that the discomfort truly may have come from her and Luca’s words. Whatever mischief that may have curled at the corners of her mouth were stifled, River’s response somewhat unexpected, yet not all that surprising. “H-hey h-honey...N-not a-a-a lot of p-people c-c-could s-s-survive t-this like y-you do. W-why wouldn’t I-I be?” Chloe hadn’t entirely dedicated the response to the Dog Fights, nor to the Wicker encounter. It was simply a reminder that she had been prideful of his ability to still keep his eyes open and head up in his condition. The first few weeks were hard, and it just reminded her how strong he had been. Even if he didn’t think so. “Y-you a-a-are p-pretty badass, k-kiddo. I-I’ll s-sucker punch a-anyone who says o-otherwise.” She whispered, low and teasing towards River, swallowing hard in hopes to have rekindled his spirits. Even just a little bit.

“N-Not t-t-to mention Ch-ch-...chiko. Y-you had t-t-to h-handle a p-psycho t-t-teammate. Y-you d-d-did very w-well a-all things c-c-considered.”

River looked up at Chiko as she began to dramatically reenact his round of the fight. Despite the radiance of her disposition, River’s expression only grew colder. He was retreating into himself entirely, gaze heading farther and farther into the distance. “Badass…” He echoed groggily, shuddering. Badass? He was a murderer. That wasn’t badass. Chloe’s next round of compliments seemed to phase right through him, and he barely even looked up at her. There was a delay in his acknowledgement, and only at the very end, even a few moments after she finished speaking, did River force himself to smile lazily. It was strained, in a way that it seemed plastered on.

He forced his attention back to his food. There was a spare moment of clarity in his eyes as discussion continued, and he looked up to Luca, a response on his lips, before he quieted any intentions of opening his mouth and returned to eating.

A deep blush dominated Chiko’s features, growing flustered by the support and praise all around. “Gah, dammit guys,” she gushed while scratching the back of her head sheepishly, “Wasn’t no big deal! Seriously! Y’all were just as cool and shiz!” However, she sagged a bit with confusion at the mention of a psycho and she blinked several times.

...She was failing to place a face to the label.

“Err,” she turned to Amit, “Ami? What’re they going on about with, like, a psycho and all that? There was you. Me. Archer. And then… I think that’s it?” She ticked off each name with a finger, staring at the three digits as if they held the answers to everything humanity ever inquired about.

The terrorist heaved a sigh while rubbing his brow. “They mean Archer…” he muttered.

A brief pause.

Further silence.

Chiko uttered a long syllable of realization. “Oooooooh…” She grinned, perking up instantly. “Nah! I don’t believe that. He was cool enough to me!”

“Because you lack danger sense,” Amit whispered while rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well--anyways!” Chiko was quick to redirect the topic back onto River, eyes beaming in equal parts curiosity and oblivious radiance. Without asking, she crawled closer to the terrorist and made herself comfy in his lap, pushing aside his untouched food to drape her arms along the table. Amit seized up, a grimace twisting his face as he resisted the urge to strangle her right there on the spot.

“...Chiko,” he growled.

He went ignored. “What everyone said, River my dude! Total badass! We can, like, start a squad and shiz. Pups only, am I right?”


Still ignored.

"Just good to know you two can take care of yourselves." Luca noted, though his eyes hadn't shifted from River, who was still more mopey than usual, especially considering the praise he was reaping in, "Ain't just the fights we gotta worry about, round here, and it's a relief knowing you get cornered you ain't goin' down easy. Keep that fight in you and you'll do alright."

Noting Chloe’s sudden drop in demeanor as River refused to reply with a beam, Bahram’s brow creased. Nope. Nope. It was a hard enough day as it was. He refused to see any more strife or grief on this clusterfuck of a family that he had. Slowly lifting himself from his seat, he placed a gentle hand onto Chloe’s shoulder, nearly engulfing the entirety of it. “Aye, lass, I’m warnin ya ahead of time, but I’m about to scoop ya.” Without waiting for any protest or confirmation, he placed his arms around her waist and gently lifted her into the air, shuffling beneath her and sitting underneath. Placing her back onto his lap and trying not to laugh at Amit and Chiko, he could barely feel Chloe squirm in his grasp, and in the next moment he felt her slump against him without restraint.

“Ah...b-body p-pillow.” She replied with a little laugh, tucking her feet underneath her and cautiously readjusting herself as to not hurt her friend.

“Aye, Amit my friend relax, I think she’s right. She and River be the squad of string beans here.” Bahram commented affectionately, glancing over at the boy. “Oi, buck up chump. Get onto Luca’s lap and join the party.”

“T-t-this is t-t-the worst.” Chloe stuttered again, cheeks engulfed in flames. “W-w-why didn’t w-w-we think o-of this s-s-sooner.”

“Big body, small head.” Bahram mused with a chuckle, slamming his knuckles into his chest like a caveman. “No think good.”

River did stir at Bah’s attack on Chloe, but he seemed somewhat startled by this sudden intrusion of personal space that both Bah and Chiko were thrusting upon their tablemates. His brows were tilted in an endless, sad, puppy dog look, and at Bahram’s request for him to “join the party,” River reverently shook his head, shooting Luca a look that said please no.

Chiko instantly exploded into a round of laughter while slapping the table, nearly jostling over her own tray of slop. “Hahah! Man, this is fucking great! Bah, you’re a genius!” Seriously--why didn’t they think of these seating arrangements before? Chiko had half a mind to beg and plead with the group to make it a weekly tradition. No, a daily one!

Fuck yeah.

She mirrored Chloe and leaned back into Amit, grinning despite the annoyed growls radiating from her cell mate. However, any further rebuttals were usurped by Bah’s comment and the terrorist’s brow pinched; whether it was from agitation, confusion, or a mixture of both sentiments was unclear. In the end, all he could mutter was a single word under his breath, “Friend?”

The hell was this giant beast going on about--

“Riverrrrr!” Chiko whined loudly, slamming back into Amit a tad harder than what was necessary and completely missing the pained huff that escaped him. “Come on, dude! You’re seriously missing out!”

As Chloe was suddenly and rather unexpectedly displaced from beside him, onto Bah, Luca nearly smacked the mountain of a man. If it had been anyone else… literally anyone else, he might’ve done just that, too, but for all he was enormous and strong, Bah was also incredibly smart, and breaking the tension seemed to be exactly what their ragtag crew needed in that moment.

Grinning, shaking his head, he sighed, “...I dunno why Blacksheep gets my girl, but hell if I’m gonna argue right now.” Patting his lap, he looked to River, “C’mon. It’s only right.”

“Fuck ya right lass, I am a genius. I landed meself in prison for a decade, but at least my skull ain’t that thick.” Drumming his fingers against his temple, he felt a light tickle as Chloe’s body rumbled with laughter against him. He could tell she was trying her best to suppress it, her cheeks exploding into a blinding red at the action.

“D-d-don’t b-be s-such…’ A giggle escaped, causing her to pause once more as she swallowed down the chortle “G-g-grouch, A-a-amit C-c-chiko j-just l-loves y-ya…” Another giggle escaped her like a snort, her hands immediately flying up to cover her mouth and nose. What seemed like groans and chortles barely made their way forth, her rumbling still quite amusing to Bahram as she settled down. “A-a-a-as if m-my s-s-stammers c-c-c-could g-g-get get w-worse.” Turning back towards Bahram, she pouted heavily. “Y-you did k-kind o-of k-kidnap m-me f-f-from him.”

“Mm, less kidnapping, more surprise adoption lass.” He gently ran his fingers through her locks before getting a gentle hold, beginning to hum and inspect the possibilities. “If River prefers me over Lucky Luca I can toss ya over. Although you’d miss out on great hair and a comfortable lap.”

“M-mm...Mmmhm…” At that note, Bahram thrust all of Chloe’s locks over her face, blinding her as she scrambled to fix the sudden mess. “M-mean!”

“Ah, aye, tis true. But it looks cute on ya lass.” He ruffled her hair over again, grinning at his accomplishment.

He wasn’t in much of a place to argue with all the pressure their seemed to be around him getting into Luca’s lap. This was stupid. Vulnerable. They looked like babies, open to attack… he was scared. All the time. Without rest. And… he had not… ever really enjoyed the experience of sitting in someone’s lap. It only lead to bad things.

But he succumbed. Squeezing his eyes shut, River inched himself towards Luca as if he was on top of a skyscraper. It seemed to scare him just as much. And he kept his eyes closed the entire time he moved into Luca’s lap. And continued to keep them closed as he sat there.

“Hey, hey, heyyyy~,” Chiko cooed while drumming on the table and wiggling her eyebrows at River, “Now that’s more like it, bro! Hot damn, I know we were like, a big ole family before, but now? Now it’s grand slamming kumbuya! Making all the other prisoners jealous, I bet!” The last of her words climbed in volume until her holler traveled through the cafeteria, face set in a certain direction.

A beat.

Then an echoing, “Fuck off, Chiko!” traveled back.

“Wove you too, Fuckyard!” she laughed.

Amit’s brow furrowed. “...Fuck… yard?”

“Yep. The dude across the hall from us?”

It took a few seconds before the realization dawned Amit and the terrorist’s eyes couldn’t help but roll in exasperation. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why his cellmate found so much joy in harrassing that damned weirdo. He did his best to keep an eye on the man; despite being labeled as a “harmless joke inmate”, he was still an inmate. Anyone on this ship was potentially dangerous.

“Don’t provoke him,” he grumbled while slowly reaching up to flick Chiko in the back of the head. She gave a soft yelp in response, rubbing the abused spot and puffing up her cheeks with an exaggerated pout.

“So violent, Ami!” she whined. Amit simply scoffed in response and ignored her complaints.

Slowly reaching her hand out to River’s shoulder and giving it a hearty squeeze, Chloe flashed him a beam “Y-you k-know y-y-you dont h-have t-t-to stay there...i-if you a-a-are un-uncom-comfortable.” Chloe slowly removed her hand from him and nestled comfortably into Bahram’s grasp, humming as he continued to mess and reconstruct her hair…”F-f-fucky-y-yard?” She repeated slowly, her eyes fluttering open at the name, somehow familiar and foreign all at once. Nausea seeped into her stomach as her eyes flickered in the direction of where Chiko spotted the prisoner. Christ She forgot he was here too. Most days she forgot he had even breathed the air she did but now...Was she breathing hard? S-shit. Bahram’s grasp seemed rather tight now and as safe as he made her feel...trapped. She felt trapped again and oh God oh God oh Christ...Tap out. Three taps on the forearm. Bahram had taught her this if she felt uncomfortable with him, and without a moment of hesitation Chloe slid out of his now loosened grasp. “I-I n-need a-a s-s-s-second, bathroom.” She clarified, concentrating on exhales and inhales, before sliding away from the group without another word, checking behind her every few seconds or so.

Bahram blinked at the sudden reaction, knowing that whether or not letting her go had been a good thing, he was glad she did. “Ah, poor lass must have just needed a breather.” He paused, clearing his throat. He glanced towards River and gave him a gentle nudge. “Come on and slide down from there, I can tell ya ain’t very cozy.”

"Him? Imagine how I feel. Kid's heavy as hell for a skinny pup." Luca chuckled as he shook his head, but the amusement faded from his expression as Chloe suddenly removed herself from the room. His eyes glanced across the room and looking to Chiko, a brow raised, "Who is he? That guy?"

The moment he was given permission River scrambled off of Luca’s lap. He slid closer to Bah, trying to take comfort in the man’s large and protective presence, prying his eyes open and taking a steadying breath. He watched Chloe leave, brows tilted with concern. “I-is…. Is… she okay?” River whispered, barely audible, for fear that if he spoke any louder his voice would crack.

“Err…” Chiko’s brow furrowed with bubbling concern, watching Chloe scuttle off suddenly. She wasn’t the brightest prisoner around but if there was one thing she recognized on an intimate level, it was the failure of trying to smother the panic. Your own skin straining to keep the toxicity in. All it took was a sharp turn of the heel, an inhale taken too quickly, a word misspoken--and you break. That was the end of it. Regardless, Chiko maintained face and shrugged in response to Luca’s question. “Fuckyard’s Fuckyard! He’s pretty chill. Just a guy across the hall from Ami and me’s cell; he’s damn funny to, like, piss off and stuff.”

As Chiko spoke, Amit’s gaze remained glued to the direction that Chloe fled, his jaw tensing and relaxing with thought. He knew of the woman’s squirrelly nature and her tendency to snap under the pressure at times, far too timid for life on Hagur… but something seemed off. His instincts said so. Screamed it. If the terrorist was in her shoes, he’d want someone to check in on her…

But that was not his place. He’d likely worsen her situation with his presence alone.

Thus, his gaze landed expectantly on Luca, a silent and subtle urging behind his eyes. “Are you not… romantically involved?” he inquired lowly before snapping his mouth shut. Was that perhaps crossing the line? Was that considered invasive in accordance to American societal nature? He was unsure; years of avoiding contact with all forms of humanity aside from Chiko had placed him in his own grave. Immediately, he found interest in the back of Chiko’s head, figuring that he’d said and done more than enough. Too much.

“Don’t know too much about fuckyard, but er, as the name implies, he’s sort of a creepy old fucker. I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” Bahram’s best guess was that Chloe’s presence in his lap could have easily triggered a panic attack, or even the suggestion of some old weird pervert sent her to a place she’d rather not be in. Bahram usually let her stew, or if she specifically asked or showed immense fear, would go and make sure she could conduct the little break without harm. Right now he was just uncertain, drumming his fingers lightly against the dinner table. The moment River scooted up beside him, he felt a little more secure, and he soon gave River’s hair a quick tussle. “I don’t blame ya for being afraid lad, Luca’s lap is a scary place to be. Ask Clo later and she’ll tell ya…”

“She should be alright, I don’t know if she wants to be crowded for right now but if you or Lucky there want to go check I don’t think she’ll mind. She gets skittish sometimes, my guess is she’s just over stressed and the term fuckyard upset her. I don’t know why, I imagine a man who can fuck a yard is something to laugh at.”

"You're just jealous I never let you sit there, Shepherd." Rising, nodding faintly to Amit, Luca looked off in the direction Chloe had gone, "But yeah… That's my girl. See you kids around…"

As he pulled his legs around the bench, his eyes shifted to Bah again and he smirked lightly, "Disfruta durmiendo en el pasillo, hermano…"

Giving Bah a pat on the shoulder, knowing full well the man wouldn't understand him, he turned and followed in Chloe's wake.

River was content to sink into Bahram’s embrace, listening dully to the conversation surrounding him, trying not to feed his worry for Chloe and the prisoner who seemed to have scared her. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Luca rose to follow her, and the tiniest tinge of a smile reached his lips.

“Uh,” River murmured, looking up at Bah, “He said thank you, brother.”

Translation: "Enjoy sleeping in the hallway, brother..."

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Collab: Boyfriend? Meet Bestie! KatSea KatSea | Location: Cafeteria | Time: Dinner Period

Snowman absolutely beamed at the hair ruffle, his smile so prominent that his eyes briefly closed. He couldn’t remember ever receiving attention like this aside from Gram, but this act of affection was a platonic brand. Almost family-like. And if the white-haired man was being perfectly honest with himself, he used to wonder what that felt like.

Good thing he had Archie there to answer those questions.

At his question, Snowman merely waved his hand in the most ridiculous motion possible, dismissing his worries. It would turn out just fine--he knew it would! Nodding to himself in determination, he seized Archer by the cloth of his sleeve and dragged him over to one of the circle tables.

One person resided.

Gram sat there with his arms folded and head tilted back, eyes closed and seemingly trying to find his center. Two trays rested before him, one holding the usual slop while the other was steaming with a hefty helping of Lasagna and two breadsticks with a garlic-buttery coating.

“Hey,” Snowman signed as he plopped down noisily next to the serial killer. Gram didn’t seem perturbed by the noisy arrival, more than likely used to his loud antics, and cracked his eyes open lazily. At first, he was prepared to hum in reply and dig in, but then his glassy gaze slid over to Archer.

A brief pause.

Gram’s arms lowered, vision cutting back to Snowman. “You… didn’t.”

The mute shrugged. “I did.”

“Stop throwing gang symbols at me snow nerd, gonna be worried you throwing me into the dog pit again.” Bouncing his shoulder with Snowman, Archer felt tension leave his body as soon as it had bundled mercilessly in his nerves. If Snowman had requested him to even step close to one of the harlotins in charge, Archer would feel no anxiety about the matter. He trusted the man, despite the short time that he had to bond with him. What could he say? Nothing says like friendly bonding when you run over guards with a big ass cart and plotting the release of several dangerous criminals. But hey, it meant Archer could breathe genuine oxygen for the first time in months. And he had least had someone to look forward to the return with.

But now as his attention snapped back into reality, free of the delusions of his near hopeful future, his gaze drifted over to the familiar, tattooed serial killer. Ah, yes. The dreaded “meet the new guy” conversation. No, Archer was not gonna slit Snowman’s throat. No, Archer was not gonna try and molest the snowbird (in Snowbird’s own words, not his type). And yes, Archer was happy to be here.

Shuffling uncomfortably to the other side of the table, taking in the new couple with just a twinge of jealousy, Archer let his lips curl upwards. “He did. By the way, you two dorks have my blessing.” Wiggling his fingers playfully, perhaps in a gesture to suggest the sprinkling of sugar, Archer leaned back into his seat and looked at the mop of sludge on his tray. This would have to do.

Snowman rolled his eyes dramatically, trying to slap on an air of annoyance, but the soft smile and fondness in his gaze spoke otherwise. The motion was then followed up by him extending a hand forward, rolling it in tandem with a small bow of “gratitude” for gaining Archer’s blessing. Satisfied, the mute then snuggled up into Gram’s side, his head falling to the serial killer’s shoulder.

There wasn’t much of a reaction.

Because Gram was entirely focused on Archer. A glazed sheen of contemplation coated his eyes, burning twin holes through the fellow prisoner. He failed to say anything for a handful of seconds before finally shattering the silence in a drawled hum, “I see… How much do you… know. And,” he held a hand up, eyes narrowing, “Be as vague as… you can.”

A brief and very subtle jab taunted Archer’s stomach as he watched, intent, as Snowman’s head fell to Gram’s shoulder. His fingers crawled up to meet his own collar, drumming his nails against the tattered fabric in a foolish fantasy. That her curls would rest beside him, tickling his skin, the warm of her mouth encasing his ne- “How much I know in general or how much I know about Snowbird’s torment towards human beings?” Flashing him a quick wink that was coated in trauma (go karting, never again), Archer planted his cheek into the palm of his hand. “I know that my soul is gonna be sent free because our lord and savior.” Under his breath he muttered “The little trinkets Snowbird hid around for you to find. Little love things and the such. Sorry for spoilin that, Snow.” Think that’s pretty vague. At least it’s not, Gonna blow up this bitch, can’t wait to see it burn from the prettiest place on Earth.. “That, and for some reason, I’ve heard that Archer, you know, the cartoon from God knows when, has become much more popular in recent months. Maybe it’s just his rugged good lo-for a cartoon character I mean.”

Gram hummed, seemingly with disinterest, as she peered into Archer’s nonchalant gaze like a twin molten rays of plasma. Searching. Digging. Prodding. Roaming without regret nor pause nor need of permission for any hint of deceit. The look lasted a handful of seconds before his shoulders visibly relaxed, which earned an semi-annoyed pout from Snowman due to his comfy position being disrupted. “I see. Good, then… You know to keep your… mouth shut. And…”

He leaned forward. Slowly. Mechanically. And yet, a fire lit behind his eyes. “Stay by Snowman’s side… no matter what. Do… I make myself clear?”

Snowman’s brow furrowed, clear bafflement painting his features while trading his gaze between Gram and Archer.

Archer was surprised to feel a small trickle of cold slam across his back at the blaring gaze Gram had shot his way. Malcolm Archer had never felt the need to present any form of fear or sheepishness towards a fellow prisoner, however, a brief stare sent his way made him squirm in his seat. “I’ve been married, Gram. Even if for a short period of time. I know how to keep my mouth shut.” Finding purchase in his words, some ground for him to safely land on, he slouched back into the palm of his hand and smirked.

It vanished as soon as it had appeared. “Hmm? You sayin this like there is a reason to leave his side...He’s pretty much got me held hostage with his goddamn puppy eyes.” Folding his cheek upwards and safely engulfing one eye in hearty skin, his shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You’ve got a promise, tough guy.”

“I better…” Gram leaned back, the intensity of his gaze decaying until the signature mist of indifference returned. There may have been another emotion swimming beneath the surface, some akin to gratitude or approval, but it was nearly impossible to decipher. When he looked in Snowman’s direction, he just barely caught the tail end of his confused grimace before he slapped on an easy grin.

“Married?” The mute’s grin widened with mischief while nudging Gram. “We could use some tips for the future~.”

Gram shot Snowman a look. Flat but speaking a thousand words at a million miles per second. He settled for a simple grunt, gaze straying elsewhere.

“I value my life and Snowbird’s here, Gram. I hope you know that. It may be one of the most honest things I’ve said. Next to “I swear I didn’t kill my wife.” Eyes glazing over in confusion at Snowman’s hand gestures, which he assumed did not consist of “We can shank him afterwards”, Archer let a little smile go along his lips. “You trusted the best killer out there. Even if uh, wait, let me start over on that.”

“...I’ll believe it when… you show it,” Gram said, the skepticism not terribly clear in his tone, but not impossible to pick up either. His head fell back, the action akin to his neck turning into rubber. “He wants marriage… advice,” he muttered before giving the mute a warning nudge. “Ignore him.”

Snowman pouted before signing in separate letters, “N. U.”

“Ha! I am not giving you marriage advice cause I want you two to last...Go ask the crazy ginger or something. I was only married what, a day and a half and it did not last. Do not expect me to be able to give you...appropriate answers to certain things.” Archer blinked as Snowman signed to him a very childish variation of “no”, Archer’s eyes slowly taking a roll. “Believe me, snowbird, you don’t want to hear what I have to say on the matter. Just...appreciate your partner. That’s all.”

Snowman didn’t seem terribly convinced, if his persisting pout was anything to go by, but a gentle nudge into his side and longways glance from Gram seemed to shutdown any further protests. Huffing, he settled for shrugging in an, “If you say so” fashion and leaning back, settling his weight into the serial killer’s side once more.

Lazily, Gram’s arm looped around Snowman’s shoulder; rather than going for a cradle of some sort, his index finger prodded at the man’s cheek and his head followed the motion. It devolved into a sluggish back and forth, neither man bothered by the act. “You heard him, Snow… man. No advice… is best advice,” Gram muttered. His dull gaze fell on Archer. “But mine is best… spoken.”

The poking slowed but continued; instincts had taken control of the wheel by now.

“Tomorrow… As I said, stick close to him…” A faint nod to Snowman. “And keep your… allies even closer. You’ll… need it.”

They all would.

Tags: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Year: 2813

Location: Hagur-343 | Cage Control Room

Time: 4:30 PM | Free Period

Three raps against AM’s door. Clinical. Measured. But domineering all the same.

Any other knock pattern and AM would’ve tuned it out, rolled her eyes and kept her attention glued to the poor saps rotting away in their tubes. However, she didn’t. She had absolutely no authority, right, nor jurisdiction to ignore this visitor. “Fuck me sideways with a spiked baton…” the ginger grumbled before spinning around in her seat and trudging towards the door. With a press of her thumb to the pad, the door slid open.

Revealing Romana.

Expression as indifferent as ever, the lanky woman welcomed herself inside AM’s sanctuary. Her blazer seemed extra immaculate, a homage to how much effort the Warden applied into presenting herself accordingly for each round of Dog Fights. A thin stack of folders rested between her even skinnier fingers. “Be sure to hasten yourself next time when you answer me,” she drawled.

AM grimaced. “Whoops. Sorry. Got a limp going on.”

“Shut down the sarcasm and soon, Miss Biles.” The ice in Romana’s tone aloned crammed a ball of nerves down AM’s throat. Begrudgingly, she obeyed and snapped her mouth shut, settling for a single nod.


“Ration your words,” Romana muttered. The Warden had yet to spare AM a single glance; instead, her attention was drawn to the monitors, soaking in the pathetic groveling of her misbehaving dogs. Pathetic. Weak. Some were even crying… Sometimes, she wondered if this job was far too easy on the ginger. “Less pleasantries and more updating. Is everything ready and in order?”

Grumbling, AM plopped into her beloved wheely chair once more and folded her arms. She tossed out a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, you know I do. Pods have been reset and cleared, coordinates for today’s venue have been configured, though I gotta say, it was hell trying to stabilize the molecular feed on those things. Tributes might get even worse than nausea this time around.”

Romana shot AM an incredulous look. They both knew very well that the torturer would further the Tributes’ suffering, no matter what. Her definition of “stabilizing the molecular feed” equated to “scrambling the channels even further until they felt like their insides would corrode into strawberry jam”. Regardless, Romana had little care for pointing it out, so she continued, “...Good enough. Entertainment is entertainment, even if it involves decorating the floors with just as much vomit as there will be blood.”

“Amen to that--”

“Rationing words, Miss Biles.”

AM swallowed back an annoyed groan. Fucking bitch. “Yeah, well, anyways.” The ginger folded her arms atop the back of her wheely chair, chin resting atop them as she peered up at the Warden with an expectant look. “You know what day it is, Cap, but I haven’t seen that old fart,” unfiltered venom seeped into her voice, “Waltz into a Cage yet. What gives? We got an agreement, remember?”

Romana’s response came immediately. Without a pause of hesitation nor consideration. “We’re postponing again.”

A stretch of silence.

AM’s nails curled deeply into leather. “...You’ve got… to be fucking kidding me.” Red filled her face, a hue so rich and deep that her freckles disappeared. “Again?! The actual fuck I gotta do to get my hands on that little--”

A clicking back of the hammer.

The torturer froze like a statue, words and oxygen jammed deep within her lungs as the chill of steel spread between her eyes. Romana prodded the barrel deeper into skin, her head tilting with the onset of cold amusement. “Watch yourself, Miss Biles. This is my ship. These are my rules. You’ll get dear daddy when I see fit, no sooner or later. Understood?”

AM’s throat stretched with a gulp. Features smoothed over with numbed nerves, she rasped lowly, “Un… Understood.”

A beat.

Then Romana stowed her gun away and flashed the ghost of a smirk. “Wonderful.” She looked to the monitors once more. “Well, once I receive the confirmation from Cargo and the Ascension Team, you know what to do after that.” However, before AM could respond, there was yet another knock at the door. Not much motivation for snark was left in the physics engineer, so only an urging nod from the Warden was enough to make her grant access. The door opened again and a guard stumbled inside.

He was dipped head to toe in bubbling panic.

“M-ma’am! Warden!” A shaky salute was tossed out, which Romana ignored.

“State your business,” she said icily. “You’re cutting into preparatory period, idiot.”

“A-apologizes, Warden! But…” His breathing, for the slightest fraction of a moment, stuttered and caved with a wheeze. “I’m reporting from Cargo. The supplies for round two, ma’am… they’re gone!”

Romana stiffened.

With it came a deadly blanket settling over the chamber.

“Wait… the fuck you mean?” It was AM who muttered this, brow furrowed with confusion. She shoved her hands into her pockets, releasing a snort of disbelief. “Don’t be fucking stupid! Shipment should’ve been here by yesterday; no one’s got access to it except you and the other dipshits down there.”

“I-I…” The guard faltered, brain scrambling for the right words, but his system could barely function while in the presence of Romana’s unnerving silence. All traces of life seemed to have evaporated from her person, as if she was a misplaced stone statue. “I’m unsure. My partner and I saw it come in. But then it was gone and we couldn’t spot it for the rest of our shift. I tried to report to you as soon as possible today, Warden--”


Crimson and bone splattered the walls behind the guard’s corpse.

“FffffUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!” AM yelped as she scrambled back and tripped over her own feet, spine smacking into metal painfully as she gawked at the mess. “You can just fucking KILL PEOPLE! AND IN MY TORTURE CHILL ROOM AT THAT JESUS CHRIST!”

Breathing. Unsteady. Shallow. A step below rapid. Romana heaved a hollow chuckle between the gasps and turned to face AM, the barrel of her gun tapping peevishly against her temple. “You listen to me and you listen well, you waste of sperm, space, and air…” A manic thirst for vengeance swam beneath her words, one that existed on a plane so subtle and stealthy that AM could’ve sworn she was dreaming. No, trapped in a nightmare. “Take your daddy issues, your never closing yap, and quantum physics… and be useful. Hm? Send out the announcement to every single employee lounge. Every single goddamn guard. And start a search. We. Need. That. Shipment!”

Trembles invaded AM’s body. “But… that’s not my jo--”

Steel cracked across the ginger’s jaw, sending her on her back once more and cradling her throbbing face. Tears stung her eyes, though they refused to fall, and she glared hatefully at the Warden towering over her.

“It is now. No more talking. Just do it. Yeah? Good talk.”

In the blink of an eye, Romana was no longer there. She approached the door and with another twitch of the twigger, a hole ripped through the recognition pad. Electricity crackled angrily before light evacuated the contraption completely and the door opened. It remained that way after the woman was long gone.

Slowly, AM sat up and hissed as she pulled her hands away to study the blood staining them. “Great, a busted lip…”

Fuck. Damien wouldn’t find that cute at all.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | General Prison Halls

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

Man, this was one heck of a fancy do-hickey majig.

Snowman had been fiddling with the touchscreen for a few minutes, stationed right where Gram told him to be.

The hallway located smack dab in the middle of Hagur-343. It was simple, just one of many platforms that connected the left half of the ship to its right, but all that mattered was that the mute was literally in centerpoint.

Of course, there was yet another significant aspect to this hall.

Unlike the others next to it, this one filtered trafficking between a straight path into the ship’s Briefing Chamber and, well, more cells on the other end. One couldn’t see the entrance to the Briefing Chamber from Snowman’s position; definitely not. Beyond that threshold was a pair of steel slabs, which only opened with a specific key code, and even then, they merely lead into an extensive hallway after that. Either way, following that route would take someone to the command center eventually.

Command Center.

The actual freaking top dog core of Hagur… This was really happening. Holy shit. Anxiety filled Snowman’s gut like a wildfire but somewhere deep in that chaos resided a spark. A flicker of excitement. No, even more accurately than that--hope.

This would work. It had to. If not, then this ship… Then Gram…

He refused to let his mind walk down that train of thought.

Shaking it off, he forced himself to focus on the touchscreen once more. Everything was ready. He had the settings reconfigured and customized the functions just as Gram told him to. All that was left was a simply press of a button. Just waiting for the signal to push it. Heh… No pressure at all. None whatsoever.

The mute glanced over at Archer, his smile not quite reaching his baby blue eyes. “This’ll be fun, huh?” he said, utilizing his fragile speaking voice once more. It had a tad more strength than yesterday but he still felt like a toddler behind the wheel; it would take some getting used to.

Snowman intended to say more, but the abrupt crackling of static resounded overhead and it was followed by a female voice. He couldn’t help but notice how… bitter she sounded.

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

The trampling of boots. Many of them. Pairs upon pairs upon more pairs after that. Guards seemed to pop into existence, emerging from doors that Snowman had no idea even existed until now, a baton swinging in one hand while their other was palming their waistbelts. Staff jogged past Snowman and Archer, not seeming to pay their existence anymind.

But there was a tense energy buzzing about. The mute could tell.

It was starting.

“I stand corrected,” Snowman giggled while grinning at Archer, “This’ll be lots of fun.”

“Hey!” Oops. So much for being ignored. Two guards crossed the platform towards him and Archer, their eyes narrowed with suspicion. “The hell’re you two doing out here? It’s Free Period. You know where the fuck you’re supposed to be!”

Wow, they didn’t even bother to take note of Snowman’s “spoiled status”. The mute couldn’t tell if he was wallowing in awe or worry; probably a mixture of both. Silently, he shot Archer a look. They couldn’t afford to leave. They absolutely couldn’t. Gram said so.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | Hallway Leading to Briefing Chamber

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

That was Gram’s cue.

He, Pandora, and Abe were currently traversing the lengthy hall that would lead them into the Briefing Room. Getting through the first threshold wasn’t a problem in the slightest, since Romana was dumb enough to lend him the code. Ballsy enough to call him on his bluff. To believe that he was too spineless to cross her.

What he wouldn’t give to see the surprise and anger enshrouding that bitch’s face right about now.

Beforehand, Gram had lead them to the hidden crate full of… supplies. Each of them had picked their weapons of choice; any leverage against the guards and their Blazers was necessary. With those advanced death-bringers in their hands… Gram had faith that they could handle covering him just fine. The serial killer adjusted his grip around his own weapon, the sleek design and feel of the Push Gun beyond impressive, he had to admit.

“Stick close to me…” he said as they walked along. “They’ll suspect us soon… enough.”

Hopefully not too soon.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | Courtyard

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

“The heck?” Chiko squinted up, listening to the message blaring through the intercoms with confusion. What in the world was going on? She could pick up the chaos of guards flocking about, marching all out of order and barking at each other; some seemed to congealing into small teams but, for the most part, it was a crazy house… but in the halls.

Well, either way, Chiko wouldn’t worry too much about it. Besides, she was ready to seek avenge and finally whoop Bah’s butt on Battleships! She would win today, goddammit! “Okay, okay! Uhhhh…” A pause. “D15!”

She had him now!

Amit, who was seated opposite of Chiko and glancing at Bah’s board, had to bite back a sigh.

She was way off.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | Therapist’s Office

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

Damien removed his reading glasses, files upon his desk completely forgotten. “Code Blue? Oh… Oh dear.” His stomach plummeted at the same speed his heart leapt into his throat; that level of panic rarely graced the ship and was only ever issued by Romana herself.

Something was wrong and to have this happen mere minutes before the beginning of the Dog Fights’ second round…

The therapist paled. “...River.”

Immediately, the man shot from his seat and ran for the door, only to curse loudly as a red light beamed from the pad beside it. He wrangled the door, pulled and pushed and kicked with all his might. “Hello? Hello! Anyone! Override this! Please, anyone!”

The marching and barking of soldiers from outside.

Yet no response to his pleas.

Damien was stuck.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | Hagur Infirmary Center

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

Nurse Patrov could’ve been nervous. Could’ve been slathered in cold sweat. Could’ve paced down the halls hastily, each clack of the heels biting sorely at her feet. She could’ve done all of that and succumb to the anxiety filling her gut.

And she did.

Code Blue… A damned Code Blue.

If she remembered correctly from orientation, lockdown would ensue immediately and guards would flood the halls, which they already have. Either way, she had to hurry; the last place she wanted to be was caught out in the open and trampled by a stampede of lunatics--

Beep! Click!

“Are you ser… Shit,” she hissed under her breath. All entrances to the infirmary locked in sync, thoroughly banishing any hopes she had of taking cover from the bubbling chaos. Patrov looked around, mind scrambling for a backup. Backup, backup, backup…

Dear God, she hated herself for this, but that was literally her only option.

Swallowing back nerves, she set off for her next destination, squeezing through the endless sea of guards.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | Prison Cells

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

Hana peeked up. Vision bleary. Mind fogged over with grief. A lack of care.

She couldn’t bring herself to be scared. To fear for her own life. Why would she worry for something of little value? Of none whatsoever?

Silent as Death itself, she curled back into a bed on her mattress, face hidden within her knees. None of this mattered. Come the apocalypse or something far worse…

She didn’t care.

* * *

Location: Hagur-343 | Kitchen

Time: 4:35 PM | Free Period

”All available staff hands, call to attention. All available staff hands, call to attention. This is a Code Blue. I repeat, this is a Code Blue. All units launched into search parties immediately. Crate #ZH450. Crate #ZH450. I repeat. All available staff hands…”

The announcement almost veered Fritz away from his task at hand.


Of course, he didn’t block out the warning completely; he would be wise to let it simmer in the back of his thoughts, allowing dual functionality of his mind to shift through it for later deliberation; however, all that mattered to him was the groveling idiot before him.

Jumbo seemed to have forgotten how to learn. At first, it was a mere nuisance for Fritz and one that he hand no issues dealing with via the usual discipline. And yet, more and more failures emerged, more and more idiocy from Jumbo, as if his brain couldn’t bare to absorb anymore simplistic facts. And thus, the annoyance within Fritz had grown with the ferocity of a forest fire.

This rebellious streak needed to end. Promptly.

“Dear Jumbo…” Fritz sighed tiredly. He hefted the cannibal up from the ground, ignoring the slick sound of blood smearing between boots and tiles, and forced him into a sitting position against the wall. The portly prisoner heaved a groan, faint and weak and discombobulated, one eye swollen shut while the other followed his master sluggishly. “You’ve been grilled, flashed frozen, and now tenderized… By this point, I’d dare say you’ve been prepared like a five star meal. And yet!”

He released Jumbo and stepped back, pacing back and forth while brushing back flyaway strands of ginger. Neat. Immaculate. Presentation always mattered. “Yet… you continue to defy me. What has brought on this rebellion, hm? Who has planted these… preposterous seeds in your head?”

“I… Iiiiii do… don’t…”

“Shut up!” Fritz snapped, only to immediately reel himself in. Composure. Composure. Patience… Smiling serenely, he turned to his queen. “My Queen… Do you, perhaps, have any suggestions on how to deal with this troublesome lad? Or any theories as to where this series of behavioral upheaval!” Jumbo visibly flinched, a wet whimper rolling past his bloodied lips. “Came from?”

Tags: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea