Kabhi kabhi Aditi zindagi mein yuhi koi apna lagta hai but about time you understand, Aditi, that you can't rely on anyone no matter how close they seem coz someday they're gonna leave and you'll be devastated.

@solitarysurvival / spur-of-the-moment chaos

it's the sound of rummaging outside that alerts legion to company, and when she peers over the lodge's second floor balcony she finds him, looking so very out of his element but apparently determined to find something in all of the piles of junk outside of the lodge. it's enough to keep her attention. he didn't come all this way just to see her, she could guess, but that didn't make her any less likely to share in his company.

dirty fingernails tap on the railing before her as she debates just watching him, waiting for the right moment to speak, but girlish impatience and desire for attention win out in the end.

' well, fuck, if i knew you were visiting, i would have CLEANED UP the place. '       she calls down to get his attention, head tilted as she watches him with an interest that's for once not driven by desire to draw blood to appease a god that hummed in her ears. she looks normal, more or less, no mask in sight, with the hood of her jacket pulled up over her head to protect against the windchill.

' going to tell me what you're LOOKING FOR down there, babe? ' she continues. as much fun as it was to watch him scavenge around pathetically, forcing him into her company was even more thrilling. ' maybe i can help. '

i just think you understood the assignment abt mr fairfield. bhvr wouldn't get it. i think that you capture dwight's inherent vulnerabilities, but that part of it, the open and selfless heart of it all, makes him such a good leader that people trust and look to. yes he's our little guy but also there's so much more complexity to him and ur voice for him feels spot on. i am simply stoked to see you and him upon the dash

how in the hell am i doing so far?

 weh.... thank you. i've been writing our dear mr. fairfield on and off since 2018 on this hellsite and my portrayal's gone through a lot of changes over the years, but i'm glad he seems to have settled into a consistent and comfortable place. i'm also very glad i stumbled upon your blog again and that you were still active; our old interactions (both dash & ic) are some i remember very fondly. ash dad-ing jake, chad fawning over tommy. you always put so much thought and care into your characters and it's a delight to see. also i simp for your art, always.

@solitarysurvival | 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

❛ you don’t get to forget. whatever you did, you don’t deserve to forget. ❜ / alright jake take it easy

There was no way he could have known.

That's what the cenobite told itself as the cold wash of existential horror came over it. As though the boy, the child, really, that had just so brazenly solved the configuration could look into its very soul and see its worst crimes. Crimes worse still than rending flesh from bone and using it to craft unimagined horrors in the depths of Hell. Crimes of abandonment, of desertion, of cowardice, of addiction, of selfish desire.

Crimes it wanted to forget.

Generally, when the creature spoke, in its voice there were not even the barest dregs of humanity -- as if it were mechanical or ethereal. A demonic gravity would ooze from its monotone, but not presently. Presently, it regarded Jake Park with hesitation and throatfuls of swallowed fear. With a tone that seemed oddly human.

❝ Maybe... you're right. Maybe that's why I'm here. ❞

Had it said that out loud? Why?

As if unconscious of its own action, the creature reached up to cup a hand over its mouth, but promptly caught itself and stifled the motion. When it spoke again, its voice had regained its alien affect, eyes passing once again into total blackness.

❝ Don't -- ❞

Don't what?

Trembling fingers struggled to conjure a chain at all.

This would be its undoing. The trial, now, was surely lost to the survivors.

@solitarysurvival said: ❛ that was a close call, wasn’t it? ❜ / guy who probably caused problems in the trial on purpose in front of leon's salad

Ever since he first stepped into the Raccoon City Police Department, Leon's known that it was going to be a rough road. Still, he can't say that he was prepared for this. Or, well, maybe the right thing to say is that nothing had prepared him for Jake. He's been here far longer than him, although Leon isn't sure exactly how long.

And yet, that experience seems to have made Jake reckless. He gambles with his life -- well, what little life any of them have here. He takes hits he doesn't need to, drops pallets just to hear a killer's angry hiss, and seemingly does everything in his power to get everyone but himself out.

It's exhausting. Leon is exhausted trying to protect him. He can barely protect himself, and keeping Jake alive has proven, time and time again, to be out of his realm of expertise.

He scowls. Leon tries to stay -- well not positive -- but optimistic. Hopeful, maybe. Right now, Jake is making that hard. "Are you really joking around right now?" he snaps.

@solitarysurvival asked; " you look like shit. " / aghsjfhdgjfd im so sorry but it's also in the "guess im glad u lived" way

"¿En serio?" He butters on the sarcasm, "You don't look much better, bud. At least I got a good facial, yeah?" Cracked, dried mud clings to Ace leaving a dusty residue. Any time spent in the swamp was a minute too many, and trying to sprint away in a good foot of mud wasn't the easiest-- maybe if he was just a bit younger and only had the occasional cigarette, it would go better. How he managed that sometimes was beyond him.

Dumb luck.

Visconti's brows furrow uncomfortably as he rubs at the hairs on his chin, breaking up more of the mud. With his missing signature hat and glasses combo, he's feeling more bare than usual too. He hadn't noticed until he was well on his way back to the fire. The trial had been rough, and Lisa had become determined to take him down. Adrenaline had gotten him out of there alive, that's for sure. He can still feel a slight tremble as the anxiety subsided in a low hum in the back of his mind.

"If you feel like you're missing out, I can always save some of the dirt for ya, nature boy." Ace tries to playfully dust some of the remains off onto Jake's shoulder, relaxing somewhat, giving a cackle.

@solitarysurvival asked: “ i miss home more than i thought i would.  ”  / quentin the type of person it’s easier to open up to a little i feel like …

     “Yeah, same,” Quentin murmured empathetically, picking at a loose thread in his jeans. Jake’s words came out of nowhere but the silence that had cultivated between them. It had been maybe a few hours of them sitting under this tree, away from the campfire, sharing their own individual activities side-by-side. Comfortable. “So much shit I thought I hated back at home. My dad, sometimes my mom, school, my job...but now I kind of miss it. You know what they say, about not knowing how good you had it until it’s gone? Don’t think whoever first said it was thinking about this kind of scenario but...”

     He shrugged, and smiled a bit. “If it makes you feel better, I’m glad I met you. And the others. No one else I’d rather face hell with, trust me.”

@solitarysurvival sent:ㅤ“  what the hell is wrong with you?  ” / sorry he’s yelling at u bc he cares, hypocritically, bc they do the same type of unhinged shit in trials agsdfgsf

confrontation promptsㅤ✧ * º •ㅤaccepting

ㅤclutching the severely bleeding wound along their side as they lean most of their weight against a sturdy tree, byan is not exactly in the mood to be yelled at in this particular moment. chest heaving, they swing an arm out at jake when he tries to move closer, about as interested in receiving his aid as they are in hearing what he has to say. the glare they shoot him is dark, the pain in their expression concealed by their anger that, after losing a confrontation with the killer, is beyond ready to boil over.

ㅤㅤ" th' fuck do you mean? " they spit back, like they don't know perfectly well what he's talking about. but of course they know — how could they not, given the amount of blood that coats their hands and stains their clothes? it's not like they don't know that running at the person who's purpose it is to kill them is a dumb idea, or that they're surprised to have lost a one on one with them. byan knows they were asking to have their shit handed to them by leaping out to catch the killer off guard, brandishing the small knife that the entity hasn't bothered to take from them yet. they're still annoyed that it happened that way, sure, but they aren't so dumb as to have expected a better result. it was more hope than anything else. in their eyes, it's a better way to spend their time than to let themself fall prey to their fear and to sit around fixing generators for the chance of powering those stupid doors that promised the lie of an escape.

ㅤㅤ" nothing's wrong with me. " arguably untrue, though they certainly didn't see it that way. " i wanna get out of here, same as you! but i'm not gonna take the passive approach; that's what it wants us t' do, 'n it means fuck all. if i'm gonna die in here no matter what i do, i'm at least gonna go out with a fight. "

a bleak outlook on things, to be sure, but they have even less reason to see things positively here than they did back home. as they've continued to speak though, byan has progressively grown more worked up. they shift against the tree now, trying to stand more on their own, only to hiss through clenched teeth at the sharp, agonizing stab of pain that the movement causes. having no choice but to settle back against the trunk, they all but snarl at jake when they manage to pry their eyes back open.

ㅤㅤ" 'sides, who the hell are you to yell at me right now? " if they're going to be attacked by a hypocrite, they aren't about to let him get away without being called out. " i've literally seen you do the same damn thing. you got even less right to yell at me for it than anyone else. fuck off. "

@solitarysurvival / ❛ you don’t know when to give up, do you? ❜

low chuckle rises from the throat of the beast, though like this - dark skin, messy hair, stalking towards his prey with one foot after the other rather than on four legs - he and the survivor aren't very different. the only thing that separates them are the killer's eyes: red and piercing, glowing in the dark of the forest.

this human interests him, adds a bit of excitement to a world that so often feels stale, the same. this game - this killing of the same humans over and over - didn't quite bring him a sense of purpose, a sense of enjoyment, or a sense of much of anything, but he'd been doubted before. time and time again he'd been doubted. and when this human dares to look upon him and doubt him now, it stirs something inside of him. something beastial, something twisted by eldritch god behind the curtains. ' interesting, i was going to say the same of you. '       he stalks closer, slowly as though to relish their time together, as though to remind the human that he was the one in charge here. when he finally gets in close enough, he takes the opportunity to corner the survivor.       ' that's why you're still alive, isn't it? why you fight. '   he rolls eyes, dramatic sigh heaving from serpent's throat, as though weighing several options.     ' it's a shame i have to kill you. in another life, i bet we could have been friends. '

barks at ur door HI BEAU well first of all we have been through some funny rp hellscapes together and i'm so glad ur back here in this particular one with me! it always rules writing w u bc whether it's a thread or a standalone thing, i think your stuff is always really fun to read? i think your writing style is very clean and easy to follow/collab with and u have spicy range across ur muses and u simply know things. like ur interpretations are just objectively correct. ofc special shout out saki who is our favourite murder wife. fond of how he is fun and sexy while doing terrible crimes like more villains need to be doing it like this. i'm also thinking on your eunyu portrayal bc i think you catch her voice really well and bring the endearing brattiness that makes her such an interesting character. our hateships our drama siblings dynamics we have fun here!! in my sappy moments but also ily!!! im so glad we have been friends this long <3

i'm barking back and now we are communicating... what the woof.. this is very sweet of you <- says guy who liked your post literally asking for kindness. it is always very nice when people say my writing style is concise, because i like that style of writing and always want my writing to feel approachable! thank you for being fond of saki and all of my other little guys. i am always thrilled to write with you and i would follow only you into the dangers of tumblr rp. i am very glad that we have been friends for so long and have gotten the chance to write together for most of those years!! you are an epic writer and an even cooler person. you are kind, talented, passionate, and one of the best friends i've ever known. you stick up for people, you wear your heart on your sleeve, and you work hard at everything you do! i have an immense amount of love and respect for you. i love you very much and i will be the metaphorical cursed amulet you'll never rid yourself of ^_^

me slow blinking like a cat at u hi i just wanted to say like, i know i've said it before but simply worth saying again that i really do love your range of ocs that you like, clearly put so much love and depth into? i think i clicked through every single one and was like "oh hell yeah". i know that running an oc multi can also be like, daunting in the rpc hellscape and writing ocs in general!!! so you rock for doing that and i've loved all our interactions so far. also im kissing cash on his lil wolf mask nose. also pt. 2 you are also just such a kind and warm presence to have on my dash every day <3

oh my god??? im over here sOBBING ????????? you are sososososo sweet oh my goshhh thank you so much for your kind words im literally kicking my feet and giggling rn... your turn! You are so kind and talented omfg i love seeing you on my dash and the way you write ur muse is soososo amazing??? like everything u do is top tier ok? ILYSM <333

EVERYTHING ACHED- scars flared from the sudden rush of adrenaline, the tips of her fingers going numb as she was running, SPRINTING towards any kind of safety. Being in the trials for longer than necessary was painful, agonizing for each time she or another was sacrificed or killed. Yet, Laurie strived with the grace of someone who's done this routine THOUSANDS OF TIMES. She made sure to not lead the killer to any of her teammates, constantly keeping their trail on her as if saying COME AND GET ME. Her infamous piece of glass sat tucked into a pocket as well just in case her plan didn't go as expected.

Gray eyes suddenly spotted black hair, tussled into a familiar style. The teenager blinked, then quickly changed her pathing. If she did this correctly...

With a loud SLAM, Laurie stunned the killer with a pallet. She then slowly walked over to Jake, hiding right next to him. After a bit, Laurie peeked her head out from their hiding spot; it seemed as if they lost her trail, judging by the softening heartbeat in her ears.

" ... "

@solitarysurvival ・ .˳⁺⁎ 🔪 → closed starter call

i feel like it's a lil bit of this to begin with 👔💬 but not like Enemies just that i think jake hits the dislike button on ppl who were famous on principle and he's just Difficult but then, you know, hear me out, 👯 the chaos synergy of sabo + head on in trials?? like i think they might clash a little bit at first but also could be so powerful to deal w at the same time

RELATIONSHIP TYPES

👔 strangers working together 💬 enemies because of conflicting ideologies 👯partners in crime trope

OOH yeah i think jane and jake specifially have a very interesting dichotomy between them! jane definitely feels like it's easier to leave him alone and not engage At All at first, which probably just exacerbates his distaste, but they could also be very powerful as friends!! fucking with the killer duo.

@solitarysurvival said: we have to stop the bleeding . / for leon (:

Jake's right; Leon knows it. He's been shot before, has been injured more times than he can count, but this is a new kind of pain. It's deeper, more intimate. This pain has carved open his chest and made a home there.

Fuck, what is he even saying? Is he trying to sound poetic? He doesn't know anything about poetry.

Leon grits his teeth. What he needs to do is shut up. He'll be discovered before long, and they're a long way from finishing three more generators and getting the hell out of here. "You don't have to. We should prioritize gens. I can wait." He can still feel the phantom pain of the hook in his shoulder, can hear the Entity calling desperately to him.

His hands shake as he turns back to the generator, the buzzing of the lights above it doing little to soothe his mind or his injury. His chest heaves and his breath catches in his chest. He smiles wryly at Jake. "I've been shot at who knows how many times, and this is apparently more than I can handle. Ridiculous, isn't it?"

He'd never realized how weak he was. This place stripped him bare of any illusions he had about his own competence.

solitarysurvival asked   :      do whatever you have to do .  / for dwifter...

’       indifference  clouds  the  well  of  judgement.       ’      she  hums.  it’s  a  thoughtful  tune,  as  she  turns  the  hilt  of  hard-light  sword  in  her  hand.  the  blade’s  tip  pressed  below  his  chin,  she  tilts  his  head  up  to  better  observe  him  under  her  steady  gaze.   he  understands  his  role,  as  he  does,  hers—duty  is  to  drive  the  sword  through  his  throat,  feed  him  to  the  arachnid  goddess  that  whispers  threats  and  promises  in  the  crevices  of  her  skull.   

this  is  not  the  first  time  that  he  has  presented  her  with  this  moral  quandary.  he  pities  her,  perhaps,  for  the  disease  that  taints  her  blood.   for  the  choice  that  led  her  here,  to  evade  certain  death  in  a  dying  world.   

the  jackal’s  hand  wavers,  then  falls,   her  sword  dematerializing  with  the  languid  motion.       ’       your  soul...     ’      she  speaks  again,  quiet  and  cool.   it’s  a  gesture  of  great  nobility,  to  sacrifice  oneself  to  the  benefit  of  others.   for  her,  to  appease  the  beast’s  hunger,  and  for  his  companions,  to  evade  merciless  death  and  pain.   but  the  spider  knows  this  trick;   to  starve  would  be  less  pitiful.   slowly,  she  shakes  her  head:       ’       it  lacks  worth.       ’     

the  sigh  that  escapes  her  is  genuine  and  affected.   how  foolish  of  her,  to  allow  a  human  creature  tame  her  world-weary  spirit.       ’       i  do  not  fault  you  for  this  shortcoming—i’ll  accept  penance  for  our  failings,  however  that  may  be.       ’