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v7+ concepts
eeeeeeeeey let's go

Cleo Braithwaite: Determined, athletic, adventurous young Trinidadian woman. Family emigrated to the US when she was a child, and she grew up in [V7 Area]. As a young girl she was involved in a car accident with a family friend, and lost her left leg and eye. She has adjusted to the use of a prosthetic for her left leg over the years, and typically wears an eyepatch over her glass eye except for formal events. She is a dedicated cyclist and has competed in amateur competitions for much of her adolescence. Known among her friends for being driven and loyal, and functions as a sort of group babysitter in more wild settings. She is driven towards new experiences and risky activities, but believes in careful preparation and planning before taking anything on. Some people find her too slow and indecisive because of this trait, which can cause social tension.

Blaise d'Aramitz: Curious, impulsive, creative, French. First generation immigrant born after her family moved to [V7 Area] for [Probably a Business Thing]. AFAB, but has identified as gender fluid since the age of ten and been uncomfortable with binary gender identity for years prior. Adores experimental fashion, including clothes, jewelry, make-up, and hair. They keep their head shaved bald, but possess a wide variety of wigs, which they are quite proud of. Blaise enjoys accessories or choices that temporarily change their appearance, such as false piercings, make-up decisions, temporary tattoos, or colored contacts. They enjoy drawing, particularly sketching new outfits and possible designs. They also enjoy games involving chance and gambling, particularly games of luck involving dice. They are known as outgoing and social, though somewhat absent-minded. Because of their impulsive nature and short attention span, Blaise can often come off as irresponsible. They are also known for having an extremely nasty vindictive streak when they feel someone has done them wrong, combined with a wildly arbitrary conception of what constitutes "wrong."

Helena 'Hel" Fury: Witchy chick, nerd, light stoner, bassist, general mess. AMAB but experienced dysphoria since a young age, finally convincing her parents to look into therapy when she was 10. Parents separated when she was 12 and she blames herself. Post-separation she and her father moved back to his hometown of [V7 Area], finishing middle school there along with socially transitioning to as much of a degree as she was allowed. She's not publicly out to anyone but close friends and maybe bandmates. Way into chaos magic and streaming herself flailing at vidya games. Works at a Starbucks to fund her quest for weird titles, such as being a certified Priestess of Dudeism and Baroness of Sealand. Is generally pretty friendly if socially awkward and likes to get along with people, but defaults to her small trusted friend group over trying to meet new people. Has an online partner of a few months that she's keeping very very private.

More to come as I finish fleshing them out XD

She watched as each page flipped by, never looking at a one of them. Her eyes were only for Cass and their hands. The only one of them that would live forever, apparently.

Flip, flip, flip.

There was a lot to cover, and she allowed every page of it to pass. She didn't say a word. Didn't move beyond keeping her gun on them. Didn't seem to respond in any visible way to what they were doing.

Flip, flip, flip.

The sound stopped. Cass had flashed every scrap of art they had to the adoring audience at home, and they seemed satisfied. When it was all over, Caedyn gave them a wide grin.

"That's a really cute theory, Cass. Let's test it, okay?""


"I know."

Her eyes never left Cass's. The gun didn't waver.

"You'd give me anything but that. It's the only thing that matters to you. That's why I'm gonna take it."

The Cassowary stalked forward just close enough to heighten her threat. Her stance was predatory, dangerous, terrifyingly focused. It'd give her a better shot and put more weight of presence on top of the seated Cass, like an actress stepping to center stage for the monologue.

"Dunno what I'm gonna do with it. Burn it. Throw it in the ocean. Wipe my ass with it. But I'm gonna take it. Figure out if you're gonna keep 'existing.'" Caedyn did nothing to hold back the venom on her last word. Her disgust with them was practically celebrated in it.

Caedyn's grip on the trigger tightened and she took a step closer.

"You put the sketchbook down or I shoot you. End of story."

She was not gonna be denied by Cass Prince, of all people. Next she might as well roll over for Brendan.

The response was kinda stunning. Cass had never been much of a smartass, or a talker for that matter. Through the red veil, though, Caedyn couldn't see any other explanation for what they'd just said. "Living" wasn't a sharp answer with a gun to your head, with how quickly it could change. The only thing keeping her from pulling the trigger was a little bit of common sense that was still posted up in her corner. The thing was, maybe by now people had forgotten about Bridgette. Maybe even about Jeremy. There were bigger, scarier people out there right now, and maybe, just maybe, Cae could fly under the radar past them if she kept herself clean.

She wanted to kill Cass. She really, really wanted to. But it wasn't a choice that made sense right now. Cass was not, and would never be, a threat. They didn't have anything she wanted. They hadn't hurt anyone she gave a fuck about. It made the most sense to leave them to their bullshit and walk away. She couldn't let it end that simply, though. If Cass was just sitting here...drawing...in the middle of all this, and could give her that kind of smartass answer without missing a beat, they couldn't have been through much. How was that possible? In what way did it scan that this loser who should have slashed their fucking wrists and saved everybody else the effort on day one was having a nice old vacation on Murder Island? How was it fair to her? To Jasmine?

No. Cass had to pay a price and find out what was really up around here. Caedyn knew just how to extract it, too. The gun stayed pointed at Cass's head as she nodded down to the sketchbook. "Drop it. Drop it and kick it over to me."

So here they were. People dying around them every day, lunatics running around shooting everything that moved, slowly running out of food and water and wondering if they'd ever see their families again. And Cass was just.



((Caedyn Miller Continued from Takao))

Caedyn knew this cabin. It's where she'd gone the last time she was running from Jasmine. It felt right to come back to it and try to clear her head after everything that had happened. She'd expected to find...not peace. Not anything like it. But something. A reminder that she'd been hear before, if in less concrete terms, and she'd make it through it again. Another spark to help her keep pushing through the sadness into the "hunt."

Well. She'd certainly found that, hadn't she? Caedyn saw Cass sitting there minding their sketchbook and something just snapped in her. The gun was leveled at their head before the first step, but it stayed their as she tromped across the floor. The sound of her cocking the trigger along with her footfalls was quickly lost under her voice.


Screeching with each fevered move forward.


She'd never once screamed so loud, and that was saying something. Maybe it was her imagination, but the walls of the cabin seemed to shake like they might tumble in around them. The whole world was warping under her anger. All that stayed stable there in the center was Cass. Cass, and their fucking sketchbook.

They weren't allowed to pretend things were normal. They weren't allowed to be calm. They weren't allowed to be happy. She was putting her motherfucking foot down on that right now.

Mass Effect Mafia Fallout Thread
Jun 23 2017, 11:29 AM
You mean there's more to playing mafia than just shitposting?

aw heck
Kermit don't you ever let anyone convince you of that, you crazy diamond you

Mass Effect Mafia Fallout Thread
Jun 22 2017, 10:09 PM
Kermit's official list of wacky formatting and memeposts (most of which are mine): Part 1

The redeeming factor of this entire affair.

Nobody Caedyn cared about had ever died before. Sure, some distant relatives, a grandmother when she was young, friends here on the island, but as callous as it was she couldn't pretend she cared about any of those people. She hadn't lost a moment of sleep over them, or thought about any of them unless someone else made her. The list of people Caedyn honestly cared about suddenly felt terrifyingly small.

No, that wasn't quite right. It wasn't small. It was empty. Jazzy was it. Despite all her fear and selfishness there was one person here that she never, ever would have intentionally hurt, and she was gone. Nobody else mattered.

A more reasonable mind might have questioned these conclusions. Perhaps considered that her emotions might be reading more into their relationship than ever existed in reality, and that she shouldn't make any rash decisions in her current state. It might have taken time to mourn, or said a few words for Jasmine and her parents, or at least been cautious as she moved on.

Caedyn and reason rarely intersected. With tears streaming down her scowling face she shouldered her bag, gripped her gun and Jazzy's sword until her knuckles went white, and stalked out of the room.

The Cassowary was going to hunt.


V6 Alignment Thread - Slightly Before The Halfway Point Is Still Basically The Halfway Point Edition
Nate and Kimiko!

V6 Fifteenth Rolls
The Assassination of Tyler Yazzie by The Coward Kimiko Kao.

I Imagine Death So Much It Feels Just Like A Memory
He'd turned his back to a killer. Thought didn't really set in until he heard her starting to go. Heard her hesitate. Maybe pondered for a moment how many ways this might be a bad idea. But his eyes were fixed on the plaque. Every slow step drew him closer to it. There wasn't a detail that escaped his eyes in that pause.

Kimiko was right behind him. She had a gun. She had more kills to her name than he could recall. And she hadn't said nothing the whole time they spoke that would lead him to believe she wouldn't put one in him. He should rush her. Take a tumble. At least make her look him in the eye when she did it. Anything to make it cost just a little more on her end, even if it was inevitable.

But don't that picture look dusty?

A hand came up to wipe away the grime from the gold, but it never made it all the way. There was the crack of her gun. The sound of his body hitting the wall. The thud of it slumping to the floor.

Ty didn't say anything more. Didn't cry out. Not so much as a rasp. Just stared a head until the bullet split flesh and tore the breath from his lungs.

Never was much a man for words. No reason to start now.


I Imagine Death So Much It Feels Just Like A Memory
Yeah. That about added up with his expectations. He couldn't look at her after that.

"Doesn't matter. 'spose we probably won't find out."

They were gonna die here anyway. One person out of everyone was gonna get out of here, and if the two of them were this fucked up already, he didn't wanna imagine what kinda shape they'd be in. What kind of person could actually get out of here and still be even sorta functional in the real world? Couldn't say he could picture it. Couldn't say he wanted to.

Ty looked up at the plaque on the wall again. Hell of a way to go. Right about now, though, it was starting to look merciful. Might be the guilt talking.

I Imagine Death So Much It Feels Just Like A Memory
There'd been a few things keeping Ty going these last few days. Anger. Hate. Hope. Love. Stubbornness. Could pick your poison. By now they'd all misted up into different people. He could see them there in the room, hovering around him.

Conrad. Brendan. Isabel. Harry. Bee. Lizzie. Atsa. Marcus. Mom. The old man. Chaplin. Hell, even Beans.

Everybody'd spent some time on his shoulder these last few days at one time or another. Holding him back, urging him on, calming him down. He'd seen it all from time to time, most clearly when he was all strung out from not sleeping. Nah. That wasn't quite true. He'd seen it all most clear when he was sleeping. Matter of fact he'd just about run into a vision of that relaxing over here. He could feel it in his bones, that weight of everybody who meant so much to him creeping closer and closer in. Even when his eyes shut tight to try and think, Ty could see them all real clearly. Right back into their eyes. Especially the eyes as they drilled in around him.

Right 'round the circle they all looked at him the same way Clarice did.

His eyes were wet when he opened them back up to look at her. There was something in them now. Something real dark that he figured neither of them wanted to face, but here they were. His voice cracked as he spoke again.

"You ever wonder if you still got a home to go back to?"

The V5 Read-A-Thon
I would like a character please!

Stupid. Stupid stupid fucking stupid. Jazzy should have run away. There was nothing she was gonna accomplish here and Caedyn had thrown it all on the line for her before. It would have been okay.

That was a lie. It wouldn't have been okay. If Jasmine had left her Caedyn would have spent every last one of her last conscious moments screaming every terrible thing she could think of about her. But she forced that out of her mind along with any other doubt she might have had about Jasmine, because the truth didn't matter.

Caedyn loved her.

She was dying.

Fingers came down to stroke her hair as Caedyn caught the fading light in her eyes. "No, honey. You were perfect. You were always perfect..."

The truth didn't matter.

I Imagine Death So Much It Feels Just Like A Memory
Awhile ago they mighta never had this conversation. Seeing someone like her in all his foam and fury probably would have ended in one of them dead. But here they were, having a polite conversation about her being a killer.

Didn't know quite how to feel about that.

"Nah. 'spose we can't. Can only change ourselves."

Ty squared his gaze on her again, but there wasn't any of the anger or conviction or, hell, even curiosity that might be expected from the way they were talking. Wasn't much left in them at all anymore. Not even sadness. They were just...tired. He didn't say anything more. They said enough.