Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current In the beginning were the Words, and the Words made the world. I am the Words. The Words are everything. Where the Words end the world ends. You cannot go forward in an absence of space. Repeat.
3 yrs ago
you feel your statuses crawling on your back
3 yrs ago
I love you!
3 yrs ago
4 yrs ago
J-Lite is my bias omg (and I don't even like K-pop but wow.)


Call me Ginger!

Future veterinarian, presently irreverently funny self-deprecator and literature hobbyist.
Casual-advanced. 1x1 and Group RP, no preference.
Up to make mischief, make memories, and make a fool of myself.
And maybe roleplay a little on the side. :)
Dating @Mateotis who is much more active than I am here, but also decidedly a much more gifted writer/poet. Hound him if you're looking for me.
A little sickly and evidently severely lacking in impulse-control, so patience is appreciated in general.

I'll remain forever royal,
I'll repay my parents' debt.
Duty means doing the things your heart may well regret.

Most Recent Posts


Writing partner turned friend, then turned boyfriend of the last three years and some. The guild really does find ways for people meant to be together to be together. :) We live/d so far away and have swapped places now in physical country-status, mostly. I love this man more than anything in the whole world. He is an amazing writer. I hope you can RP with him someday because he's got some serious spunk! Action-packed scenes and character dialogue are his favourite.
...and he is mine.

Once upon a time, there was a time after which I could no longer RolePlay. However, that in itself did not stop me from coming back to the Guild every now and again, and fawning idly over all the RPs I've ever been in past. I've had the absolute pleasure to Roleplay with some of the most talented writers I feel like the world has to offer—people that spout magic from their fingertips when they collide with keyboard. I could tag all of them forever, from artists, 1x1 partners, to GMs, to group-RP fellow cast; but I'm not going to. There is simply not enough time and not enough words I could use to describe all the love in my heart for all these many, many, amazing people.
...and of course, the rest of you reading this, who I have unfortunately still not met yet. :) I wish you wonderfully well, and hope that your year only looks better, and gets better. I wish you all the happinesses in the world, because all of you here are artists. You create poetry, be it effortlessly or otherwise. You are all indescribably amazing.
Thank you for letting me come back time and again to the Guild, and always catching myself smiling when I'm on my way to leave again.

I love all of you so much. Thank you for making this place somewhere wonderful to be. <3

You're so cool, boss~! Keep at it everyone. :) You're in the endgame now. Congratulations on so many wonderful years of this amazing RP!

(PS I have no idea what's happening but heard through Mate up until the Noel bit so what's up lmao I'm just here for emotional support)
The Jew Has Risen
“Killing game? Side-effect?” the redhead felt her trembling hand not on the elevator’s cool steel move to her aching head, pressing into her temple. It was enough that the world was still spinning, but half of what the man before her said was all lost in one, large, incoherent string of words. She blinked down at him and he finally came into better focus.
Did he have blue hair?

“Please,” she began, shaking her head dismissively, “Stop...speaking.”
Realising she may have come off as cold, she quickly added, “So fast, I mean. I...cannot keep up.” It would be wise to process what this person, this small Infinite Forensic Biologist human who knew much more about the game than she, was saying, if only for future use.

And suddenly, she felt her hand pulled away from the elevator, and instinctively it shot back right out of the Biologist’s hands and protectively into the Horologist’s own chest. If it reeled in any faster, she probably would have punched herself in the chest with it. ...movement was still largely difficult to control, it seemed. Her heart still beating in her ears, she took a deep breath and in attempt to relax herself, continued speaking, if only briefly. Her hands dropped nonconfrontationally to her sides.
“Hello, Noah.” she offered a small, apologetic smile, though it only made the corners of her mouth turn up a little, as if every other muscle that made up a proper smile refused to contribute, “You know my name. Forgive me, you startled me.” Her sentences initially came in short, slow bursts, but as she continued speaking, it was as if the muscles in her face and throat were warming up, “My body feels stiff. It is difficult to move. Thank you for the estimated time; I will keep it in mind. But you sound like you know what is happening here.” She paused to recall what he was saying before he went for her hand, “Who are the nurses here? Do you know who Dr Killgood, the bear that was on the screen, is?”

Even if he was someone that meant her harm, Juliette would take her chances. He didn’t exactly seem the most harmful, being shorter than her in her heels and with a bit of a baby-face still. She caught herself wondering how old this boy was, studying the creases of his face for any indication of age. She gathered, in a matter of a minute or two, that he was not particularly as young as he looked. But this was just one person, who arrived from right beside her. The sounds of footsteps she heard belonged to others. Were those the Infinites that were on the screen prior, or the nurses?
Did Monokuma Killgood hire a battalion of nurses to take care of anyone feeling even slightly out of it? But Noah said this was a killing game…

And slowly, the Infinites began to file into the large space in front of the elevators from which Juliette and Noah exited. She had meant to ask if his elevator also possessed bloody writing, but would have to get to that matter later.

The first to walk by was a very short young man, who Juliette discerned to be a teenager. More blue hair. Though the announcements in the elevator did include visual evidence of which Infinite was which, most of that was lost on Miss Bourbon, who was still battling her own sleep-inertia. Still, the very least she could do is put first names to faces. She may not have remembered all the infinite talents, but names to faces she could do.
This young man was Thomas.

The woman to follow a notable distance behind him (not necessarily following him, but also not necessarily not following him) was much larger, and was ample in both departments, front and back. She almost seemed toweringly huge because of her assets, but something about the way she walked was forced, it appeared. She also had blue hair. Why was everyone so inexplicably melancholy, though...?
This was Emily.

“Hello there. You must be new here. Are you also Infinites?”

The first man to speak was one who came after this couple. He was tall and slender and delicate, and had hair and a smile reminiscent of a lamb. Though his clothing was...was it from this era? It took Juliette back to medieval times, almost. There was something carefree and blank about his expression, and it definitely struck Juliette as odd, compared to the former two that passed by. She was about to reply to his polite question and warm introduction before—

"Jesus Christ, of course they are."

Two other people had arrived, all young gentlemen, but the latter on the scene was the one who cut Juliette's reply short. She bit her tongue, nervously squeezing her hand into a little fist as the air suddenly became a lot more crowded. ...did everyone here know what was going on except her? It was also an increasingly large crowd, and the Horologist immediately felt her cheeks go warm. It was...stuffy. There were many questions. everyone was talking at her at the same time...
She shot an almost helpless look at the first person she met, Noah, beside her, hoping he could take some of the heat. Unconsciously, even though he was much smaller, she shuffled closer to him as if it would be of any use in protecting herself. If anyone had noticed her uncomfortableness, they would have backed off immediately, or at least kept a fair distance from the Infinite Horologist and now the Infinite Forensic Biologist too.

Another deep breath preceded her next words. She would introduce herself first and foremost, and see where things would roll from there. To the small group and nobody in particular, she tilted her head slightly with a forced easy-smile and introduced herself.
“My name is Juliette Bourbon. I believe I’m the Infinite Horologist.”
She took down faces and names. The man who asked if they were new here was Daimyon. The bespectacled man who introduced himself was Cyrus Brandon, as he had shared his full name. The young man who seemed irritable was Calvin.

The last person to arrive was the most striking. He looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in a week, and his police uniform was a good tool to distinguish him from the rest of the people on the scene. This was Max, and as expected from his attire, he questioned the new duo immediately. Even though it wasn't supposed to feel like an kind of did.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I woke up in that elevator,” she gestured with an open hand behind her here, and if anyone would have cared to observe her pale palm, red crescents where her perfect nails anxiously pressed into it stood out against the surrounding skin.

“I am happy to meet you all. It is an honour to meet other Infinites, I think.” she drew her hand back again and offered the small gathering a genuine smile. It really was an honour. “If you know what is going on, I would be very grateful if you could fill me in.”

guess who's back

A lone woman sat up, conscious, inside an elevator that only seconds after she had huddled herself up against the wall had come to a defiant, heaving stop. She had her arms wrapped around her knees that were pulled close to her chest, leaving her slender frame a small, delicate slump against the very back wall of the seemingly shrinking chamber. Her vision still hazy, she rubbed her eyes once and then twice, feeling her heart beating in her ears. The rhythm brought her some form of peace. She closed her eyes, and counted alongside the soothing metronome.
In her mind, small white sheep jumped a fence in clockwork synchrony, harmonious with her heartbeat. One-two-three-four-two-two-three-four...
The announcement droned on around her, introducing Infinites new and old, dead and alive, but all having been in this particular murder game at Axis Mundi. She was another statistic. She would be one of them. Each lasted a grand total of thirty seconds, even those that were now dead.
If people were dying in this place, then would all that is left of her be a thirty second long description of who she was in this lifetime?

Her melancholic, tired blue eyes flickered open again, and she finally hauled herself up with what seemed like great difficulty. On shaky legs and gripping the elevator's railing, her vision settled upon the unsettling sign painted across the doors.


And as if wishing for that nightmare to be over, and that small space to stop feeling like it was beating down on her and was soon to crush her, the elevator doors crept open like a delayed and staggering breath of fresh air. The redhead in the elevator took one step forward, immediately gasping at her knee buckling, as if from disuse. Just how long had she been unconscious? Or was she awake for very long before that? The psychomotor retardation kicking in was like a consuming blackness. But if anything, she would get herself out of this elevator first.
Her steps grew stronger and more certain, from one to two to four and then to ten, carrying Juliette Bourbon right out of the cramped elevator space and into the fluorescent lights illuminating the hospital hallway before her. Her eyes took a little while to adjust before her tired head lolled to the side. She had to shake it to right it again, and continued observing her surroundings. They were, for the most part, unassuming. It didn't even look like a hospital anymore, but a very bright white cellar. Was she transported somewhere? The last place she remembered falling asleep was Axis Mundi, but even though the area looked vaguely familiar...there were no windows and there was no natural light. If anyone had seen her, the colour of her skin would have appeared a three times paler pallor.

And suddenly, in all the quiet whiteness, there was noise.
Somewhere, the whirring of gears. Juliette swore she could hear it. The rolling of gears and the familiar grinding. But it wasn't a quiet, satisfying sound; rather a screech that signalled something coming to a very abrupt, very sudden stop.

And then there were footsteps. Some quick, and some slow. Some dragged their feet, and some may as well have been dragged themselves. Some walked in unison, and others walked off-beat. There were too many footsteps to discern how many people they belonged to, but if the Infinite Horologist had to guess, definitely more than ten. Fifteen maybe? Twenty? Were those many people even in this location at one time?

Still, her voice was quiet as she called out into the emptiness from where the sound came, “Hello...? Who is there?”
This was accompanied by banging on the steel elevator doors beside her to emphasise her words. If the sound of her voice couldn't reach anyone, the sound of the metal definitely would. It was definitely difficult to muster up the strength. The one thing that made her continue?
The image of a maliciously grinning black and white bear in the back of her mind, taunting her with a voice that was so unassuming it sounded like nails on a chalkboard because of what came out of its mouth. She banged on the door harder.
“Please, if anyone is there…! Please, I need to know...what day is it? What time is it? And just where am I?”

Have a character!

Daimyon Londe wasted little time in seeking out Marianne Roche's room on the second floor. He walked up the stairs with a stride in his step, yet when he was finally standing at her door, his resolve seemed to evaporate. He balled his hands into a fist—was he afraid of the truth? Perhaps he was. Yet he knew he could not live with himself if he did not do everything in his power to seek it out. The late herbalist's e-handbook in hand, he opened up the door and stepped inside.

It was dark inside, the menacing kind of dark. Daimyon breathed a sigh of relief when nothing gruesome met his eyes when he flipped on the lights. In fact, the room was spotless. It did not take long for his eyes to wander to the desk that was rather similar to his own—and the stack of notes quietly sitting on it. Another sigh escaped his lips, this time one of anticipation and, perhaps, trepidation.

He sat down at the table and took the first paper into hand.







Daimyon sank low on the desk as he finished the last note. Saying he did not believe what he had just read would be a massive understatement. His hands were shaking as they desperately clutched the piece of paper, and a million feelings suddenly rose within him, all swirling around Marianne Roche. Denial lasted moments before fiery fury overtook it, that itself to be soon replaced by anguish. Worst of all, his heart was conflicted. Why was it so conflicted? The various emotions threw his mind's ship around like a stormy tide, and in the end he was too paralysed to even do anything.

Then, something caught his eye. Another paper, smaller than the rest and almost hidden away on the large table. He reached for it with a quivering arm—was there more?

No. This, he could not take anymore. He pushed away the letter, raised his hands to his face and began sobbing.

All of a sudden, a voice sounded through the room. It was not Monokuma's.
‘Everyone, this is Cyrus. I want to meet everyone in the dining hall within fifteen minutes. This is an emergency. I repeat: This is an emergency, meet in the dining hall.’

An emergency? Perhaps this was the poet's chance to escape this despair.

With great effort, he pushed himself up from the table, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He could, however, not tear his eyes away from the pile of notes—so he picked and crumpled them all up, throwing them back onto the table. Marianne was dead, he told himself. It was time to leave the past in the past. Yet, betraying himself, he picked up the letter and took it with him, sliding it inbetween the first pages of his notebook.

He walked out of the room, and made sure it was locked. He vowed to never to enter the Infinite Herbalist's room again, and never let anyone else do it either. He would drop her e-handbook back at his own place, then head straight for the break room.

Her story might have been over. But his was not.
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