Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current taking a break from rping for a little while. i'll be back soon enough but i really need to work on my mental health. hope everyone understands sorry
3 yrs ago
@Mae saaaaaaame
1 like
3 yrs ago
i was literally up all night and i just realized i could have written posts during that time fuck i straight up just read fanfiction and cried for like 6 hours
3 yrs ago
saw thor ragnarok the other day and now i really want to do a Sakaar rp but i caaaaaaaan't
1 like
3 yrs ago
sorry in advance to anyone i'm rping with if my posts are slow/kinda bad, my brain isn't working right lately i'm kind of a mess bleh (γ‚·_ _)γ‚·


Most Recent Posts

π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰ Is it time for one last dance? ⊱

Oh, this was getting interesting, wasn’t it? Not just gunmen, but a stand as well, and an ugly motherfucker at that. Kiara backed up slightly from the broken table, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

She responded to the stand’s boast with one of her own, starting with an amicable, casual tone, but turning more intense and unhinged with every word, β€œI dunno, Reaper. You think you can give me a good fight? I’ve been just dying to see some Nazi blood!”

She sent out another hail of bullets at the puppet-like soldiers, aiming first at the stands and then at the men themselves. Best to get them out of the way first, avoid any surprises that might come up as a result of overlooking them.

β€œC’mon, let’s see how almighty the β€˜Aryan race’ really is.”
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰This world has only one rule / The winner is always right⊱

The smell of freshly-baked bread did… something to Kiara. Something like nostalgia from a past life. No matter what it could be called, she wasn’t sure she particularly liked it. It made her feel… soft, which was something that by all means could not happen.

She mostly ignored the dancer’s speech, until she caught the phrase β€œgood aryan blood,” which made her quietly scoff and roll her eyes. As the woman kept talking, however, she was struck with nostalgia of another kind. No, not exactly nostalgia. Familiar anticipation, maybe. Her apprehension was proven right when a crowd of gunmen stormed the restaurant. This wasn't a new situation to her; she had actually been on the other side of it a few times before.

Tupolev flipped the table to create a barrier. Good. She would have done the same if he hadn’t. She ducked behind the table, keeping a close eye for any hostiles that might try to approach them from behind.

She waited out the first hail of bullets, then made her move by summoning Miss Murder. Her stand thrust out an arm, which transformed into a gun similar to the ones the soldiers were carrying. She let out her own barrage, sweeping across their formation in a single line before retreating back behind the barrier.
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰Come on and twist the knife, let’s make it painful⊱

Kiara expected the next bullets coming her direction, and expertly dodged them. As soon as she stepped forward, Miss Murder leapt into action, crossing in front of her and jumping backwards, pushing her away from the mine she had just tripped. She grit her teeth, bracing against both the explosion and the flare of pain from her wound as she regained her balance.

Now, she really doubted that this person only placed a single mine, so she formulated a plan. From Miss Murder’s body emerged two long gun barrels, which riddled the ground in front of them with her own special kind of bullets until they stopped setting off explosions.

Kiara continued her advance, confident that any mines not set off by her barrage would have been rendered fully inoperable.
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰Come on and twist the knife, let’s make it painful⊱

Her approach was cut short, unfortunately. Of course, a fucking tripwire. Her eyes locked onto the bundle of grenades to her left, and she leapt to the right to put space between her and the blast. What she realized too late was that her maneuver put her directly in the path of a bullet (β€œToo late,” in this case, means β€œimmediately after she was hit”).

With a loud curse, she lost her footing and fell, but she still had the sense to angle herself away from the grenades which were still very much a concern. She managed to shield herself behind a tree when they exploded, and she ignored the ringing in her ears to take stock of her condition. Based on how much it hurt, it was likely a high caliber bullet, but it hit with much less power than expected; the sniper had likely pulled the same ricochet trick they had used to hit Chloe. Not a great situation, but nothing she didn't know how to handle.

Miss Murder offered her a shadowy hand that she used to pick herself up. It hurt like a bitch, but she grit her teeth and pushed through it. If this bastard thought they could take her down so easily, they were sorely mistaken.
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰We’re the empty set just floating through, wrapped in skin⊱

Kiara hung back for a second and took stock of the situation. The enemy seemed to have unnatural accuracy, as if they had eyes directly on the group. She considered testing this theory using an unladylike gesture, but thought better of it.

While she searched for any visible enemies, Chloe took the initiative and charged, displaying that she had an ability of her own, represented by a fancy doll-like figure. She produced a cloud of smoke, but it didn’t provide much of an obstacle to what appeared to be a sniper.

Clearly the time for observance had passed. She pressed forward with an uncannily serene expression, a pink aura flaring around her. Her face broke out into a confident smile. It felt like so long sinceγ€ŒMiss Murder」last came out to play.

She was a cloaked figure that seemed to be cut out of the shadows themselves, with a pair of wide eyes that glowed pure white. She approached in lockstep with Kiara, two long pigtails trailing behind her.

God, there was nothing quite like the feeling of anticipation before a good fight. It was like a drug, and Kiara was addicted.

She idly wondered if she’d be able to send home some souvenirs.
oh hell yeah this is cool
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰Off with your head, dance til you’re dead⊱

Kiara was mostly quiet, letting the others talk as she enjoyed the outdoor air. It reminded her of the nights she spent lurking in the shadows, watching deals go down and waiting for something to go wrong so she could raise a little hell. It was a strange sort of peace, the same kind of liminal space as the moments before a tornado touches down.

The only comment she made was in response to the idea of meeting some gunmen, β€œWouldn’t be ideal, but it sure would be a good time.”

She disregarded the kind of picture her remark painted about the stability of her mental state. After weeks of nothing, she was antsy to get into some action, and her comrades in arms would just have to deal with that.

Almost as if on cue, there was a resounding boom in the distance. She snapped into action without wasting a moment, pulling her gun from its holster and diving for cover. She knew full well her little pistol wouldn’t do any good against a mortar, but it was her first reflex.

With sharp eyes, she scanned the area for other attackers, considering the possibility that the shells were a distraction.

Her gun felt in her hands like a key in a lock, and everything fit into place. Her face broke out into a grin, and her eyes flashed with a macabre glee.

She murmured to herself, β€œHello, tornado.”
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰Open up my eager eyes⊱

The music playing without an apparent source was quite the curiosity, but still a welcome one. It was a good song, after all, and Kiara was no stranger to oddities (really came with the territory, being an oddity herself).

As the plane began its descent, Kiara bowed her head slightly and started regulating her breathing. Just a habit she picked up to make sure she had her wits about her before a job. She didn’t waste any time hustling off when they landed, walking with purpose.

She listened intently to the plan for the night. She didn’t exactly have any comments to make, preferring to play the silent type just as she did whenever she was called to provide backup for her boss’ men.

Finding that they weren’t going to see much action that night (most likely, at least), Kiara’s expression diffused from steely to vaguely content. One could see the exact moment she switched off her β€˜mafia-mode.’

β€œWell,” she clapped her hands together, her black gloves muffling the sound to a soft tap, β€œNo time to waste, then.”
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰Watch the way I navigate⊱

β€œOh, I wish, but I never really had the time to learn an instrument. I can sing a little bit, though.”

Kiara had gotten a few voice lessons from an old girlfriend who worked as a singer at one of the boss’ clubs; it was a fond memory, but she wasn’t about to share that specific detail of her life.

The little plane was certainly uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t have gotten this far without being able to deal with a little discomfort. She listened to Chloe’s story with an amused smile. After having to cozy up to some of the most boring men in existence in order to carry out her hits, Kiara had learned to appreciate a good storyteller. She liked Chloe already.

β€œThat is quite the tale. Can’t say I’ve got anything as interesting, though there was that one time I was almost buried alive…”

She preened a little at the compliment to her hair, β€œOh, thank you! It’s natural. Hah, don’t worry, you’re making this flight much more entertaining than it would have been.”
π•Άπ–Žπ–†π–—π–† π•Ίπ–˜π–ˆπ–šπ–—π–” // π•Έπ–Žπ–˜π–˜ π•Έπ–šπ–—π–‰π–Šπ–—

⊰Darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream⊱

While the General gave his speech, a soft-looking young woman, rather out of place, regarded the aircraft with a bored expression. Of course she paid attention to his spiel; it was quite literally a life-or-death matter, but she had to make a concerted effort not to roll her eyes at his profuse thanks on behalf of the entire free world. It’s not like she was doing this to be some big hero. She was only in it for a reduced prison sentence and the opportunity to smash some Nazi skulls. Maybe she’d get to take home some new mementos as well. Get them shipped to her apartment. Though who knew when she’d be able to see them displayed; it might take some time for her boss to pull the right strings to get her released.

God, she was glad to be back in civilization (or, at least, what passed for it). She had only spent a few weeks in the hole, but that was enough to make her realize the little comforts she had taken for granted before. Such as being armed. She had felt practically naked without a knife at the very least; every instinct she had screamed at her to find something sharp, but she was at least trying to maintain some semblance of good behavior. The gun and blade she carried now felt like a security blanket.

By the time her mind finished wandering, her new teammates had started entering the plane, so she stepped on, giving the others a polite smile. It seemed it was time for introductions, so she provided one.

β€œMy name’s Kiara Oscuro. I’m from Chicago, I like Jazz, and I make a mean strudel. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
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