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W O R K S P A C E
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Hello and welcome to our workspace!
Here my partners and I will flesh out the world,
culture and characters of our stories


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Contributions can include things like moodboards, music, scenes, art,history, headcanons, images/gifs, profiles, placesetting, aesthetic

🔽🔽🔽

「 See Threadmarks for index! 」​

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C u r r e n t l y B u i l d i n g
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► ñêðñ Lððþ ................................................... @m o r i s
» Post-Modern → Virtual Reality
» #AI #simulation #cerebral #storyheavy #DSMV #psych #tragedy

► ȺղօʍąӀìҽ....................................................... @Jack Cactus
» Modern → Psych Ward
» #pharmacology #manipulation #triggerwarning #abuse #whump

► O p e n ............................................................​
» ??? → ???
» #???

► Sᘿᐺᘿᘉ SOᖇᖇOᘺS................................... @BennyQ
» Medieval → Alternate Universe
» #french #crusades #possession #angst #knights #romance #submission

► O p e n ............................................................
» ??? → ???
» #???
► 𝒹𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈𝓈𝓊𝑒𝓈................. @JuniorWizard
» Modern → Multiple Timelines (1979-2000)
» #taboo #incest #timetravel #mindfuck #lovehate #intergenerationaltrauma

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Anomalie | Character Sheet - Daphne Corbyn, Ariel Lin New
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Retrojapan

Retrojapan

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ȺղօʍąӀìҽ RP - Character Sheets


[ 1 ]

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D a p h n e Corbyn
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╔ Trigger Warnings ╗

Eating Disorder
Abuse of Medication
Self-Harm

╚ Trigger Warnings ╝
There was only one other secret she kept from him
One time she had the thought of Dr. Fontaine fucking her face so hard she couldn't throw up even if she wanted to. And she wouldn't want to because the only thing inside her would be him. In her fantasy her throat and holes would be so bruised and sore that the only thing which made them better was him filling her back up again.
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20. Patient. Poly-psychiatric
Munchausen Syndrome, Bulimia

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[ 2 ]
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A r i e l Lin
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╔ Trigger Warnings ╗
Domestic Violence
Death

╚ Trigger Warnings ╝
Check for pulse

Two days after starting her on Lithium, the machines would alert to Daphne's heart rate dropping rapidly. There would be only minutes before a full-on Code Blue. Though it was never called. Instead the monitor counted down as Ariel approached the patient's bedside. The nurse's dark eyes took in the sight of Daphne's tiny little legs contorting and twisting on the bed. She was drenched in sweat, eyes blinking wide, birdcage chest heaving wildly as her heart practically bulged out of it. Ariel began to undress her.

Untying the strings of her hospital gown first, the nurse's face was in deep concentration. She could have been a surgeon with such focus, but instead she would allow Daphne to have the heart attack in full. A roundtrip. Daphne would die right there in front of her, and Ariel would watch it, envious. Her eyes flicker between the flat line on the monitor, and the flat chest of the dying girl. The room was already cold like a morgue and Daphne's nipples were so hard that Ariel did pinch one. No reaction. Daphne was dead.

And the law said she had to be dead for about five minutes before she was legally dead, so Ariel brought her back after three. That way Daphne never technically died under watch.

She just stopped breathing and had no blood pumping to her brain for three minutes.​
​
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26. Nurse. Abused. Abusive.
Hybristophilia. Sadist.

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Anomalie | Character Sheet - Alain & Louis Fontaine New

Jack Cactus

𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤
Joined
Jul 11, 2021

[ ȺղօʍąӀìҽ RP ]

twins
aged 43
Louis - psychiatrist - sweetheart
Alain - medical doctor - monster

both - sick
He wanted her in a way not unlike Louis,
and also he wanted her in very different
ways than Louis.
Alain did not. His lust was paired with
something dark, sinister, and secret:
Daphne was the perfect toy
.​
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.: brothers :.
While the younger brother harbored big, soft, gentle feelings for Daphne alongside his savage lust.
[Alain] realized that, in order to survive
in the world, and in order to avoid going to prison,
he needed to hide those certain sick parts of himself,
which he knew would live as long as he did.
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.: doctors :.
Louis became his own therapist.
Alain was the one who ruthlessly pursued houseflies, caught them, and pulled their wings off to watch
them crawl around on the windowsill. When the family had gotten a puppy, per the boys' incessant begging, Alain had kicked it. He didn't kick it just once, either; whenever the puppy did anything wrong, as puppies are wont to do, Alain would kick it.
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.: tension :.
While Louis was the one who rescued spiders and put them back outside. Louis begged him to stop, as Louis always begged him to stop, but Alain laughed his brother off, as he always laughed his brother off.
The brothers were never that close. Alain, older than Louis by a few minutes, was a bully throughout their childhood.
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.: domination :.
Louis was afraid of him.

both an imminent danger to Daphne Corbyn
 
Keep your Enemies Close | Character Sheet - Francine Roman New
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Retrojapan

Retrojapan

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[ Keep Your Enemies Close ] Character Sheet



╔══════════════════════════╗
F R A N C I N E
ROMAN

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➤ 30
➤ FBI Agent
➤ Writer, penname F.A Bennett
➤ Divorced.
Kind of


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➤ gloves
➤ elbow length
➤ leather
➤ Italian made



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➤ 60's starlet
➤ pencil skirts
➤ blazers, suits
➤ aviator sunglasses



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➤
heels
➤ min. 2"
➤
click click click


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➤ high collars
➤ tailored button ups
➤
Coco Mademoiselle
➤ Benson & Hedges



━━━━━━━━━━╯



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➤ LA Killer enemy #1
➤ "fuck Stanford"
➤ do I make you nervous?
➤ living out of a super 8


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Francine Roman

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If not for Rosalia Sousa, this would have been the perfect first date. It was practically a Disney movie the way the sunlight broke through the trees, birds chirping all around. Francine could literally smell the roses (even if they were fertilized by a body that wasn't found for several days, but surely a rose by any other name wouldn't have smelled as sweet). Nothing like a serial killer to make for a beautiful day in the park. Why was she always getting cockblocked by dead girls? Was she that fucking undesirable that even a corpse got more attention than she did?

Whoa slow down there, Franky.

Where did that come from? The detective would roll her eyes, get a grip, and light another cigarette. Inhale deeply, and let that first-hand irritate her before the second one. There are very few things in life which reward and punish simultaneously, but this was it. That's why cigarettes were so effective for someone like Francine Roman. She could never make up her mind, and perhaps on some subconscious level Francine was burning through a pack a day because she wanted Mortimer to see. She was stressed; vulnerable. Super 8 hotel key; desperate. Chain-smoking cancer sticks like she actually wanted the cancer? Be my cancer stick, Morty.


"Bennett?" Francine's voice conveyed feigned unfamiliarity with the name, but her body language gave the kind of knee-jerk reaction that was almost always personal. Vertebrae by vertebrae, the detective stiffened and stood taller in already statuesque height. Her darkened pupils were on Mortimer's face like flies on shit. Obsessed. She couldn't even pick a spot to land between his eyes, his mouth, and the hand covering his face as he lit his cigarette. She wanted another one and she wasn't even finished yet.

"That's a good quote. Fiction? Non-fiction?" She played dumb. She played so fucking dumb that he had to have known. But Francine didn't want to go overboard because that's what people do when they're guilty. They come up with elaborate, complicated explanations for their innocence. Francine's wanted to tell him how ten years ago she was 'I do' Bennett. 'Do it harder. Harder. HARDER.' Bennett. 'Please don't let leave me because of this' Bennett. Now she was 'I don't want people to know' Bennett. 'I can't believe I wrote those things' Bennett. 'Writing that book was supposed kill this' Bennet. You make me want it back Bennett.

"I can't speak for the author, but Bennett sounds like she hasn't gotten laid in awhile. Not that I've read her or anything, but that's the kind of thing a woman says when she's waited so long for a worthy man she wrote a goddamn book about him instead." Francine's cigarette was on it's last breaths, and so too was Francine's innocence. Ash dropping right onto the spot where Rosalia had taken hers. It had come full circle.

Baader-Meinhof effect says you only find what you're looking for, which is why neither of them were going to be solving the murder anytime soon. The truth was Francine was never looking to see so much as she was looking to be seen. Visible. Present. Acknowledged. It felt like years since she remembered she was an attractive, intelligent woman of the twenty-first century, but Mortimer had this way of making Francine feel like the only one in the world. Or at least like killing them all until she was.

She half-smiles, and shrugs,
"Or maybe it's just a love letter to the man she's been waiting for."

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Neon Loop | Psychological Profiles New
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Retrojapan

Retrojapan

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ñêðñ Lððþ deep dive: world/simulation/mind - building



『 N O E L L E JAMESON』 ♫♪♪
tw: suicide, abuse
丨ᗪ
➤ The id is the primitive and instinctive component of personality. https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html

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She hates rain. She hates phones. She hates when the technology she built craps out in situations like this. Twice more the dial relayed no connection to the three dimensional world. No connection to anyone who could tell her where her ex-husband was, let alone what he even looked like now. In this place he could be anyone. He could be any thing. And he was going to be so angry, too. So enraged. So confused. So... She didn't even know what he would be at this point. Even if he did remember anything, none of it would make sense here. Unless it did. And then he was probably going to kill her. Cause that's what she would do if he did this to her.

Fortunately being recognized here was the least of her worries. Noelle's current
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avatar repping some anime slut out of one of his videogames, and not the blonde haired blue eyed cunt she was back home. No, he wouldn't recognize her even if he wanted to. The only thing Noelle couldn't disguise behind an avatar was her short fuse. There was no hiding it as she slammed the phone against the glass, smashing it. If she couldn't figure out how to fix this in three days, her memories, her thoughts — her life — was getting wiped.

Rain poured into the phonebooth as Noelle stood there in a puddle of simulated rain and shattered glass she couldn't even kill herself with. Shit. This is exactly the kind of stuff her husband would have had thought about, though, so there had to be a suicidal, self-destruct, abort self way to die in here somewhere... Ah, but there was nothing here, in reality. She was in a void. An unreality. There was nothing... What would happen if someone tried to kill themselves inside the simulation?

Noelle stared at the sharp edge, wondering would she feel it? Would she even bleed?​
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​
丂ㄩ卩乇尺乇Ꮆㄖ
➤ The superego incorporates the values and morals of society which are learned from one's parents and others. It develops around the age of 3 – 5 years https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html

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She knew it was still too soon for her shadow to have formed, which was why getting in and out was crucial. The longer Noelle stayed an avatar, the closer it got to destroying everything she was before it. Compartmentalizing all of her psyche and memories into the void until there was nothing left but her shadow. Knowing what she knew about the simulation, Noelle understood what was happening all too well. This wasn't her shadow she was seeing. It was his.

Noelle inspected the next room methodically. After all, bedrooms reflect the most intimate parts of ourselves that we normally keep private. We shut the door on things like fantasies, passions, desires, and of course, secrets. It was like reading a diary. "I wanna see! It's so dark in here!" Noelle eagerly turns on the light, blinded for a moment by the brightness and by the room itself. It's blinding and then it's dark again. A split second was all she needed and the light flicks off. Her eyes quickly adjust to the street lamp coming in through the window, even though she doesn't want to see it anymore. She laughs, but wants to cry. "Never mind! Hehe. It like it better in the dark."


It was their bedroom before he left.

It was her reflection in window.
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And then something else that tugged, pulled and yanked...

Her shadow.​
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"Suck your dick? Fuckdoll like me?" Noelle puts her hands on her hips, nose in the air. Defiant pose for someone whose heart was pounding out of her chest with confusing excitement. "You talking to me, Mister?!" The truth was no one ever talked to her like that, and it made her feel like hiding. Hiding behind the mask. Hiding behind the avatar. Hiding behind her character of a spoiled brat who needed someone to shut her up once and for all. The more she played into it, the less she felt of her. N o e l l e. She was starting to disappear.

"Hmph!" Noelle took her hair down, letting the avatar's long, raven mane cascade down over her shoulders. It framed her pale, heart-shaped face like photograph, and ran down to her back to the the top of her short, little skirt. Noelle was mindful not to show him anymore than a tease of what could be under it as she slipped off her shoes. She then confidently walked towards him, hips swaying back and forth. Shamelessly yet unintentionally seducing him like Noelle always did. This was how it always began. "Maybe you're rusty cause you've been left out in the rain too long, huh? Ever think about that?" When she got to him, her small hand reaches forward like she was going to adjust his tie, but only pretends to, instead flicking his chin the moment he looked down. If he did. Otherwise she would just be holding his tie in her hand, looking at him playfully, tugging it closer.

"See? It's just what I thought. Trench foot. You been in them too long, soldier! When was the last time you dried off and had any fun?" Noelle then winked, releasing his tie and climbing onto his lap. Right on his knee, arm around his shoulder. She sat on him like she was about to tell him her Christmas wish list. "We gotta get some fun in you! It's a good thing Noelle is here." She steals the cigarette from his hand, puts it in her mouth and begins smoking it. "You were on my naughty list, actually, but now you're on my good list. So what do you want? You've been a good boy, and you get a present!" She was desperate, so fucking desperate, not to fall asleep in the simulation.


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乇Ꮆㄖ
➤ The ego is 'that part of the id which has been modified by the direct influence of the external world.' https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html

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Of course she was alone.

As easy as it would have been for her to be the most popular girl in school. As easy as it would have been for her to have been some sorority idol or student council president. As easy as it would have been for Noelle to be surrounded by admirers and suitors, the beautiful blonde sat in an empty auditorium. Not for long, though.

"You think I do this on purpose? Like I want to see you or something? Is that what you tell yourself when you bring it to me? Get real!" Noelle's blue eyes rolled ice, snatching the notebook she had indeed deliberately left on the desk. "Good boy!" She leaned back to pat his hand like she was petting a dog before she was turned the other way again. Dismissive. That was usually it. She leaves book. He brings book. The end. It was go fetch. Her favourite game with Lee. She played it at home a lot.
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Noelle visibly startles when she realizes that he's still behind her. His normally quiet voice was so loud in the auditorium that her dad was already beating the shit out of her for it. For the first time Noelle Jameson was speechless. It wasn't until he started his retreat that she answered him. "Lee," Noelle called, her voice so much louder than she intended it to be. They were essentially in a giant vacuum that made it sound like they were screaming their love for one another from across a football field. Weren't they, though? Weren't they? "I like you too." She felt the last ten years in her throat, pounding. Sweat. Heart rate. What was this? It felt like Noelle was running across the goddamn football field for his love. She could never take it back. It was out. It was forever. Even if he had read her notebook and knew this whole time, it wasn't until now that it was real. It wasn't until now that it was returned.

Over the next several years Lee would learn that dating Noelle Jameson was harder than not dating Noelle Jameson. She snuck around a lot. Secretive. Paranoid. If he didn't know any better, Lee might have suspected espionage. Kept suitcases like she was ready to go at any time. Often had bruises, and marks on her body that didn't seem right. Startled easy. Kept notebooks upon notebooks and then burned them or ripped out the pages 'so my brothers don't read it'.

If Lee did read Noelle's notebook, he might not have realized that it was a diary. After all, it very well could have been class notes from one of her depressing psych classes. At the same time, it could have also been some horribly tragic creative writing about.... Neglect? Loneliness? A victim. It always involved the same young girl and her abusive father living below the poverty line in some trailer park.



There was one not far from here

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— You are the most irritating person I know.
This boy in her class is the most irritating person she knows.


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— I've consistently thought of pushing you down a flight of stairs because of it.
She even pushed him down a flight of stairs at school because of it.


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—You're the only person that makes me feel like doing something.
She doesn't know why he makes her feel this way.


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—I actually like you
So she leaves a notebook in his desk to see if he reads it because then he'll know everything about her, and she wants him to more than anything. If he understands her, then maybe he'll understand that she doesn't hate him at all. She could never hate
him. She's just broken, and doesn't know how to tell him after all these years that he makes her want to pick up the pieces. Fix herself. Be good enough for him.

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『 L E E STONEWALL 』 ♫♪♪ || @m o r i s
tw: violence, death
丨ᗪ
➤ The id is the primitive and instinctive component of personality. https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html
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Soon enough, by the time tears had dried and hopeful questions had been thrown his way, the tall man hummed in response to the smaller girl, a soft nod followed by his reiteration. "That's what I said. Come on."

Strangely, he had not struggled to push her away once he felt her arm wrap around his own. Was it a complete lack of self preservation on his behalf? No. After all, his free arm was still carefully lodged into his raincoat's pocket, carefully feeling the lighter fluid bottle up, his thumb brushing against the lid.

This was his curiosity speaking, even as he and the young woman walked along the dark path, dimly illuminated by the dingy street lights, the rain providing him a soundtract to wonder about the scope of her words and to cross examine them and her character.


She got off early.

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Lies. There are no other stops.

She doesn't know where she is.


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Lies. Everyone knows.

She is scared.


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Lies. Not scared. Not just yet.

This young woman, whoever she might be, had gotten to the city's one and only bus stop on her own outside of the designated rules for the time loop. That, the lack of packing and the latching on let him know that she was either an addition to this world or that she was actually something else beyond mere, dull lines of code.

Regardless, she was most certainly a
liar. A liar who knew far more than she let on and a liar he would offer his time to up until the time he decided to see what would happen once she had to lie for her life.

"You ain't going home anytime soon. Not in this rain, you're not." he explained, the scent of wet dirt and concrete filling his nostrils as he allowed her to be so close to him, the corner of his eye staring directly at hers and making him wonder how she would react if he was to pour lighter fluid on her.


——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————╝​
丂ㄩ卩乇尺乇Ꮆㄖ
➤ The superego incorporates the values and morals of society which are learned from one's parents and others. It develops around the age of 3 – 5 years https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————╗

It had taken him a while to understand the blonde and what drove her, though part of him had always had a faint idea. It took a wreck of a human being to understand another, after all, and Lee was sure there were few creatures as wrecked on the inside as he was. Maybe that had been why Noelle had been so fixated on him ever since they had met so many years ago. A simple verbal correction on his behalf when she made a small miscalculation had been enough for him to become the girl's target in a pursuit that had only become more and more relentless as the years went on.

Pressing his right palm on the auditorium's heavy door, Lee pushed it firmly, the slam of the structure hitting the lock and closing both of them inside likely to alert the young woman. He did not blink, nor flinch, however. It was what he wanted, after all. After a moment of silence, he began moving towards her, walking down the steps and adjusting his posture. From the way he moved with raised shoulders and a meeker posture, many would be fooled and forget how tall he actually was. Maybe even Noelle had been
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fooled before.

Stopping close to her, however, he had his back straightened, his tall, slender silhouette looming over her as he stared at her with the same empty stare people had often commented about on his back. All except for her, who had reminded him of how weird and awkward his behavior around others was. Had someone asked him a few years back, he would have said he hated the blonde in front of him. Seeing how he was looking at her at that moment, she might have even thought he was there to get even after all those years, a rabid explosion of frustration putting out both of their lives in an act of petty vengeance.

It would be so justified, wouldn't it? He'd visualized it before, too. His large, bony hands around her throat, thumbs pressing against her larynx as he observed the light leave her eyes, choking out a sorrowful part of him alongside her.

Yet, instead of a display of hostility, he simply eyed her back, his glasses unable to conceal the intensity of his stare as he finally opened his mouth, holding out a simple notebook for her to grab. How long had it been since he'd directly started a conversation with her? Since he was truly proactive.

"You left this in my class. Again. I'm starting to think you do it on purpose." he was blunt, of course. From an early age, he'd always been detached and almost cold in how he worded things. It was probably the source of his troubles with her. "If I keep sneaking these into your bag, you ain't gonna learn, so I figured I'd come here. I know no one'll bother us."

He knew her routine. Much like she knew his. Was it that bad to stalk your stalker? Or was it the opposite?

"I don't know how people do this, but I'm not making excuses either. You are the most irritating person I know. I've consistently thought of pushing you down a flight of stairs because of it." he stopped at that for a second, his narrowed eyes confirming her he meant what he said. "But then I realized you're the only person that makes me feel like doing something. Maybe I don't want to push you down the stairs. Maybe I actually like you. Scratch that. I do like you. Let's go out sometime. Or not. I'll see you in my class, I guess."
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With a shrug, the freakishly tall young man adjusted his glasses and sighed, turning around and starting to walk up the stairs, wondering if this had been the first time he'd felt relieved
since...

━━━━━━━━━━​

"I could get rid of him." Lee's usual deadpan expression didn't seem to change as he ran his right hand over her left shoulder, his gaze blankly focused on her golden locks of hair when he vocalized something he had been thinking about for far too long.

Their relationship was genuine. Even through all the distance. All the secrets. All the little moments of grief. It was genuine and it made Lee feel alive. Alive enough to say what he had always wanted to but always felt too isolated to.

He felt she wanted to hear it too.
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The two laid together in that old bed, having snuck into his dormitory against every single regulation, his long, bony fingers gently sliding on her shoulders before pressing on the side of her neck, fingertips threatening to dig themselves against her flesh. "I'd just wrap my hands around his throat and done. No more old man."

They'd never directly talked about her father, but he knew. She'd made sure he knew and he knew she knew. By then, he was aware that she had some understanding of the seething fury that flared underneath that calm stare of his. Anger that was repressed and was only now being channeled.

"I get it if you want to be the one to do it, though. But we both know he has to go. Might as well be me saying it. I might also have a plan."

He'd do it for her, too. She'd seen him. The real him. And she'd embraced it. What Noelle wanted from him, she'd get.

And he knew how to read her oh so well.


╚———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
乇Ꮆㄖ
➤ The ego is 'that part of the id which has been modified by the direct influence of the external world.' https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html
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Under most regular circumstances, the place would be far from empty. The rules of the simulation had made the motel the not-so-thriving business of a small family of three, struggling to make a living.

Even through all the blabbering and endless chatter of the young woman, he still found it in him to recreate a couple of visual cues in his head, especially since the family of three was always sorted out in the exact same manner every single time he returned to the establishment whenever the timeline reset.


Every single time, it would be the three of them

The mother.

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Her two children.

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A missing husband whose portrait frame loomed over the entrance.

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Every time he glanced at it upon returning he was reminded of the first time he wandered about the old motel, back when he completely misunderstood the nature of the place and of those who inhabited it.

In a world in which everything was deceitful and, in one some way, hostile to him, he had found solace in the arms of a woman whose defining trait was her longing for a significant other whose details were murky at best.
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Through weeks and weeks of sleeping in the small haven, getting to know the intricacies of her and the children's routine, he found some semblance of peace, even as the lingering feeling of emptiness returned each time the loop reset and his figure became that of a stranger to them again.

Creating attachment to someone who was doomed to forget you had maimed his soul, in a way. To a point in which he had learned to loathe the portrait hanging at the entrance of the motel. For someone whose sole trait was his absence, the missing husband was present in every single timeline. Yet, he was not.

His feelings of comfort became muddled in frustration and rage, in due time. The inability of the woman to move on. The repetitive voice of her sons. The fact she could not answer a question as simple as the date of birth of her beloved, departed husband.

Too much. Too...annoying.

Where once he sought the comfort of their soothing voices, he now found solace in new sounds, each and every time he came back.




Staring at the old picture frame of the husband, he remembered how he had stopped bothering cutting the picture's eyes out. He truly had become so detached to the family that he did not hesitate much when it came to getting rid of them for the remainder of the week, if he was ever feeling up to it.

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Neon Loop | Journals New

m o r i s

[insert witty remark here]
Joined
May 9, 2019
Location
Europe
ñêðñ Lððþ
(journal entries)
|we set upon birthing Hell itself|
...
"I have been dormant for most of my life. I wake up, live through my ordinary little day and go to sleep, every single thing I think and do inconsequential to me and everyone else when it comes down to it. I haven't deserved to live free for the past eleven years and my punishment keeps on eluding me, though I still don't think my death is proportional, as it is as inconsequential as my life. That's why it makes sense to take the inconsequential and drag me and others out of bed by the hair through the very comfort zones we have used as an escape for so long. We don't deserve an escape."

- Ottawa, 06/10/2019.


Lee Stonewall | Noelle Jameson

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the engineer | the architect

"All of this lack of direction. All of this anger. This hatred for me and everything else. A pool of blackness that bubbled in a pit no one even knew existed. Noelle changed that. It's one thing to know how to assemble, but for someone to show you what form to assemble? Noelle took the pool of tar and made me turn it into oil. We brought something into the world."

- Malmö, 12/01/2020.
 
Neon Loop | The Simulation New
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ñêðñ Lððþ worldbuilding


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'This is disgusting, and quite frankly, horrifying to think you would put people in here. What are those? Monsters? Shadows? This isn't one of your fucking video games, Lee. I wish you'd get on my level. You really embarrass me sometimes.'

A week before Noelle locked him inside, and threw away the key. A week before she was the only Warden to this place. Her nightmare. His prison. Their fucked up love child.

It was called
Bierka, and it was named after the dog Ivan Pavlov used to discover conditioning. Designed to lure out our traumatic experiences, disturbed attachments, ineffective relations, adverse memories, and imprison them in a virtual reality for all of eternity. This is where the boogey man went. This is where the monsters in our closet stayed. Unfortunately this is also where Santa ended up, too. And the tooth fairy. Hopes. Dreams. Blame it on left- rain-right-brain dualism. Like DNA, our memories and experiences, good and bad, are innately intertwined and can never be separated. That would have made this so much easier, but alas, you need dark to have light. You can't dream without risking nightmares.

Noelle would later market the program as a 'behavioral exercise', which was the politically correct term for a virtual prison system. In a world where space was limited, and the cost of housing, feeding and accommodating millions of inmates was rising... Better believe the government ate that shit up for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Cost effective. No more taxpayer's dollars wasted on invaluable members of society. Bierka didn't discriminate. It looked at each person inside of it and read them like a book. Then it ripped the pages out. One by one until there was just a spinal cord. Sometimes it took years. Sometimes simulated millennia. Sometimes it never even happened, and the person just became a consciousless, emotionless void. Reptilian brain. Another NPC prompt fueling the script. Cue Lee.

And though it was Noelle who went on to study behavioural psychology and write that script, it was Lee who made it all work. Noelle's vision saw how the current state of criminal reform was ineffective because it failed to acknowledge the origins of criminality in the first place; neglect, abuse, trauma, poverty, and adverse life experiences which give way to maladaptive behaviours and proliferated them into future generations. Defeating recidivism meant dealing with the things society doesn't want to acknowledge because it would be too hard. It would be too sad. Most importantly — it would be too expensive. Reform required a blank slate. Psychological annihilation. Erasing what happened to you throughout your life effectively erases you. Noelle would be the architect. Lee the engineer.

He was also the blueprint.
SOUNDTRACK - N O E L L E
東京テレホン | Merry - Tokyo Telephone

Dare ga shinjitsu nano? Kizuita toki wa ososugite
Katate de BAIBAI to makka na PORUSHE ni norikomu kare
Deatta toki kureta DoCoMo no F503i (efu-go-maru-san-ai)
Denpa ga todokanai, itsudemo ATASHI dake kengai
SHIAWASE ichiban, ATASHI ga niban okashikunai desu ka?
'Onna no bugi' misete mo mada 'Kakete konain desu ka?'

KIMI o mite ita, zutto matteta
Shirokujichuu, aki mo sezu jitto
KIMI o mite ita, konya mo nakazu
Kokoro wa karesusuki

Kare to onaji no tabako sutte NIOI natsukashi remembrance~
DORAMA mitai ni itsuka wa kuru to
Zutto matteta Happy end~

Nidoto moderenai to saigo ni namida no RIKUESUTO
Machi no NEON to sake, yowasete kudasai konya wa...
Onchi no kyaku ga 'Chiharu' no 'Nagai yoru' o uttateru
TAKUSHII no RAJIO kara wa
'HIKKII' no 'Automatic'

KIMI o mite ita, zutto matteta
Shirokujichuu, aki mo sezu jitto
KIMI o mite ita, konya mo nakazu
Kokoro wa karesusuki

MEERU mo mite ita, zutto matteta
SENTAA toiawase mo shitemita
KIMI o mite ita, konya mo nakazu
KOKORO wa karesusuki​
Who was right? I realized it too late
He got into his red Porsche and drove away while waving “bye bye” with one hand

When we met, you gave me DoCoMo F503i[1]
But it had no connection, I was always out of range

Family[2] is your number one, I come in second, isn’t it strange?
Even if I show you all my “female weapons[3]”, “you don’t pick up again?[4]”

I watched the phone and kept waiting forever
Day and night, without getting tired
I watched the phone but tonight it didn’t ring either
My heart withered like a flower

I smoke the same cigarettes as him, cause the smell makes me remember him~
I always wait for you to come back just like in a happy ending from a TV drama~

You won’t come back so in the end “I ask for tears”
City’s neon lights and alcohol[8], someone please get me drunk tonight…

A guest sung Chiharu’s “Long night” completely out of tune
And the taxi’s radio blasted Hikki’s “Automatic”

I watched the phone and kept waiting forever
Day and night, without getting tired
I watched the phone, but tonight it didn’t ring either
My heart withered like a flower

I also checked messages and kept on waiting without an end
I even tried calling the telephone exchange
I watched the phone all night and day but it didn't ring
My heart withered like a flower

[1] Cellphone model
[2] Sung: “happiness”.
[3] Body, sexappeal, but also crying etc., everything women are considered to do to get men.
[4] Double meaning, might be also translated as “You’re still unsatisfied”.

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SOUNDTRACK - L E E
INTERPOL - NARC

Touch your thighs, I'm the lonely one
Remember that last swipe 'cause that was the right one
Oh, all your mysteries are moving in the sun
And show some love and respect
Wanna get some love and respect
Baby you can see that the gazing eye won't lie
Don't give up your lover tonight
'Cause it's just you, me and this wire, alright
Let's tend to the engine tonight
She found a lonely sound
She keeps on waitin' for time out there
Oh love, can you love me babe?
Love, is this loving babe?
Is time turning around?
Feast your eyes, I'm the only one
Control me, console me
'Cause that's just how it should be done
Oh, your history's like fire from a busted gun
Now show some love and respect
Don't wanna get a life of regret
But Baby, you can see that the gazing eye won't lie
Don't give up your lover tonight
She found a lonely sound
She keeps on waitin' for time out there
Oh love, can you love me babe?
Love, is this loving babe?
Is time turning around?
He slips into the bedroom
And you know he misses alright
Old names, we'll make some
Will sustain us through the night
Inside my bedroom, baby
Touch me, oh tonight
Promises, we'll make some
Will reveal our sense of right
You should be in my space
You should be in my life
You should be in my space
You should be in my life
You could be in my space
​
​
 
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OP
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Retrojapan

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Supporter
ñêðñ Lððþ mood / character boards


M O O D BOARD
♫♪♪ nirvana - come as you are (slowed + reverb)

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❝ Come as you are, as you were
As I want you to be
As a friend, as a friend
As an old enemy
Take your time, hurry up
Choice is yours, don't be late
Take a rest as a friend

As an old memory ❞


L E E STONEWALL
♫♪♪ nirvana - heart shaped box (slowed) || @m o r i s


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❝ She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak
I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks
I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap

I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black ❞


N O E L L E Jameson
♫♪♪ nirvana - dive (slow + reverb)



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❝ Pick me, pick me, yeah
Let a low long signal
At ease, at least, yeah
Everyone is hollow
❞
 
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Seven Sorrows | Character Sheet - Octavia de la Croix New
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Supporter

Sᘿᐺᘿᘉ SOᖇᖇOᘺS character sheet


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════════════════════════════════════ Octavia Estelle Geneviève de la Croix


early to mid 20's. sheltered. naïve. protected. fairy tales. princes charmings. stubborn. brave. the only girl in a family of knights.
Octavia has a lot of growing up to do after all of the men in her family are killed
and she must take her place before the King



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And after the men are gone, she does indeed grow
Years pass, no longer the merciful angel
He met so long ago
She does not sing for him this time


─━━━━━━⊱༻
:white_circle:
༺⊰━━━━━━─

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Keep Your Enemies Close | Character Sheet - Mortimer Crain New

m o r i s

[insert witty remark here]
Joined
May 9, 2019
Location
Europe
[keep your enemies close] | character sheet

Mortimer Crain
[?], PhD
Pathologist, author, teacher
,
butcher.

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The Mortician, they call me. Terrible, I know.
I do quite enjoy it, though.

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So many of them dead for nothing.

Not much of a planner. Everything boils down to chance and bold risks.
Maybe wanting to be caught is what kept all of them away for so long.


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It's rather lonely, this life. An
additional perspective in is order.
That, or I've started to accept I'm actually incredibly sentimental.



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"For all the talk of virile masculinity, I would say most agressive men keep themselves safe by keeping women ignorant of the power they hold over them. Men cry at the sight of a common cold, their bodies not even ready for half the pain they purport to channel. Women, however, push life from between their legs. This world makes it a point to have women walk on glass for every waking moment, and here we are, pretending they can't overtake testosterone the very moment they feel like it."


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Such a big city means no one knows one another. They pass you by every day and can't even tell if you're slipping.
Why, you could just about die and no one would bat an eye. If only someone could actually help me bat some eyes.


One that won't get cold feet.
 
Seven Sorrows | Character Sheet - Lucien de L'Cote Tourbillon New

BennyQ

Supporter
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Joined
Nov 3, 2013
Location
Canada

Sᘿᐺᘿᘉ SOᖇᖇOᘺS character sheet


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═════════════════════════════════════════════ Lucien Augustin de L'Côte Tourbillon

A King has neither ally nor friend,
Only foes and subordinates

•--Concept-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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'Dout thou not know, my son, with what little understanding
the world is ruled?'

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Neon Loop | The Entities New

m o r i s

[insert witty remark here]
Joined
May 9, 2019
Location
Europe

ñêðñ Lððþ | worldbuilding: the entities.



B i e r k a , the hunger. @Retrojapan

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. Official entity created by Lee Stonewall and Noelle Jameson.
. Presents itself as a dog, though it can assume various shapes.
. Designed to repurpose the psyche of all inside the simulation.
. Can appropriate memories and redistribute then as it wishes.
. Holds no specific allegiance, being faithful to its programming.

Bierka, named after the dog Ivan Pavlov used to discover conditioning, was the part of the simulation tasked with destroying ego, otherwise known as our sense of self. Our attachments. Relations. Emotions. The process itself a lot like ripping the pages out of a book and trying to put them back in the right order afterwards. Sometimes it took years. Sometimes simulated millennia. Sometimes it never even happened, and the person just became another NPC prompt fueling the script.

Consequently, apathy became the primary symptom — if not the goal — of Lee's Hell. After all, if you destroy empathy and sense of self, then you destroy feelings like guilt, shame, and betrayal. You lose your identity.

. . .
. . .​

V e r g i l , the guide.

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. Undisclosed entity created by Lee Stonewall.
. Appears as a man with the head of an owl.
. Seen only by those it wishes to perceive it.
. Holds a deep understanding of the world.
. Has been coded to be loyal to Noelle Jameson.
. Tasked with acting as a guide for Noelle Jameson.

Publius Vergilius Maro was a masterful Roman poet who lived under the rule of Caesar Augustus before the birth of Christ, becoming well-known as "the man with the biggest brain" and writing the Aeneid, his magnum opus. Having died shortly before the birth of Christ, Vergil was never baptized and thus, was barred from Paradise. However, because he led a good life on Earth, Vergil was given a place among the virtuous pagans in the Hall of Kings within the circle of Limbo.


 
Neon Loop | Avatar Tracker - Crybaby New
OP
OP
Retrojapan

Retrojapan

۷ɛŋı ۷ıɖı ۷ıƈı
Supporter

ñêðñ Lððþ || Avatar Sequence


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Avatar 1.0 crybaby
tw: death

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Well this was different. Normally she was the one chasing him with a knife.

The rain pummeled above them on a tin roof, din-din-din-dindindin complimented Lee's rapid fire steps crashing the floor after her like thunder. This was their hellstorm. The lightning came when he pulled her down the stairs. He was electric if only because he wanted to kill her. She saw it in his eyes. She felt it in his strength. And she succumbed to it in this strange place they made together. Falling over like a tree in the forest. But if a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?


One hundred and fifteen simulated pounds slam into the stairs. And it felt real. A knife through her lower back. It felt real. The avatar was dying, and it felt so realistic Noelle could tell the blade was dull. She could tell it was well-used. She could tell it was over. "Ughh!" A gutted inhale, hands outstretched for the banister, and she falls back. "No!" Slow motion. If she counted the seconds between his footsteps stopping and the thunder of her body down the stairs, the storm was just overhead. Why was she so afraid to die? Isn't this what she wanted?

It was because Lee was a Goddamn genius. Chasing her. Throwing her around. Stabbing her in the back. He was preaching to choir with that shit. What else was he going to pull out and use against her? This was his hell, but he knew everything to make it hers, too. Every detail, every sound, led her back to only one person. Only one person who could do this. Only one person could influence, no — raise — Biekra this way. The way he looked at her as he pulled her down the staircase told Noelle that he knew it too. Did he see who she was? Who he was?
The man's voice now warbling and droning like a broken record in and out of awareness. The shadows were becoming more than shadows as they closed in. They were becoming real.

No, not real. This wasn't real!!

It just feels real, she reminded herself over and over again. Lee was tricking her. Lee was just a simulation, and none of this was actually happening. She blamed him, even though it was her design. She blamed him, even though it was her fault. She wanted to be the victim, but the simulation knew better. It was giving her exactly what she deserved.

"Lee..."

Lee next to her laying in a pool of blood. Lee telling her how rotten, and awful she was. Lee promising her forever. Lee. Lee. Lee. Her life seeping warmly into his back. Her eyes closing, tears gathering behind and brimming over, streaming diagonally across her face. Unlike her dramatic tears on the train, she cries quietly now. She doesn't make a sound until the very end. Right until she disappears and the blood begins to cool beneath them.
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Over the Wall
echo & the bunnymen - over the wall
The man at the back has a question
His tongue's involved with solutions
But the monkey on my back
Won't stop laughing
Over the wall
Hand in hand
Over the wall
Watch us fall
There's something to be said for you
And your hopes of higher ruling
But the slug on my neck
Won't stop chewing
Over the wall
Hand in hand
Over the wall
Watch us fall
I'm walking in the rain
To end this misery
I'm walking in the rain
To celebrate this misery
What's that you say?
Speak up, I can't hear you
What do you say?
I couldn't hear you
Over the wall
Hand in hand
Over the wall
Watch us fall
Out on the road coast to coast
Out on the road coast to coast
I'm over the wall
I'm over the wall
I'm over the wall
Come over the wall
Come over the wall
I can't sleep at night
How I wish you'd hold me tight
I can't sleep at night
Come on and hold me tight...


0:24 ─●──────── -2:56
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

━━━━━━━━╯​
 
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Neon Loop | The Subjects New

m o r i s

[insert witty remark here]
Joined
May 9, 2019
Location
Europe

ñêðñ Lððþ || worldbuilding


the subjects


Edison "Ed" Kane

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Investor on the Stonewall-Jameson project


Lee Stonewall
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One half of the Stonewall-Jameson project


Tohru Yoshida
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Onigan Conglomerate Representative

25/10/2018

...........................................................................................................………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Yoshida is literally waiting to see you. Just cooperate."

"He knows what we offer, why aren't we listening to what he can give in return?"

"Stone, please. This could be the start of everything you wanted. Talk to him, hear him out. Think of the funding, of your girlfriend."

"Very rich of you to say that, Ed."

"I mean it, Stone."

"Then why didn't you call her, too?"

"What?"

"Why did you think one half of this didn't need to come here and meet with your golden goose, Ed?"

"Stone, come on. You know how she is. Yoshida ain't gonna stand for her shit, and- "

"And you think it's alright to ask me to go behind her back."

"Fuck off, Stone. You know she would put the project first."

"Then why didn't you go to her?"

"God damn it. I'm asking you to actually do something about the project and help me get a real fucking team behind your little vanity fair."

"Yoshida was there when we pitched the project, Ed. It's not going to be a chit chat that'll get any of us to let him get a finger on the code. If he wants our goods, we want to see his goods and show him what we can do with them."

"And you can't fucking tell him that in person?"

"Sure. Just put Noelle on speaker as well."


 
Neon Loop | Character Sheet - Noelle Jameson New
OP
OP
Retrojapan

Retrojapan

۷ɛŋı ۷ıɖı ۷ıƈı
Supporter

ñêðñ Lððþ || Character Sheet


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Aesthetics

likes ►► black licorice, snowglobes, owls, dancing, pagoda, feminine details, mermaids, being watched
dlslikes ►► cold, green, Andy Warhol, elevators, being late, when food touches on plate, low signal


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…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………everclear - santa monica ……………
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𝐍𝐨𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧 ►► behavioural psychologist | Stonewall-Jameson Project


Age .......................................................... 29
Relationship
................................. Married
Hometown
......................................... Las Vegas, Nevada
Education
........................................... Berkeley, California
Employment
.........................................
CEO, Stonewall-Jameson Enterprise
Favourite Memory............................ Secret
Strength .............................................. Pragmatic, stubborn, relentless
Weakness
............................................... Pragmatic, stubborn, relentless



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►► co-founder of the Stonewall-Jameson project, Dr. Noelle Jameson sheds light on the potential risks of psyche-driven AI, and the future of a solo Stonewall-Jameson enterprise.
Time Magazine Interview
_____________________________________

"I do apologize for going off topic, but just a quick word on the controversy surrounding your late husband, Lee Stonewall. With all due respect, you certainly have a lot to gain next week when he is officially declared deceased. Between the firm, the deal with Onigan, your individual — now combined assets...."

"Why are you anticipating my husband's death? Or are you suggesting he is already deceased? Because as far as I know, he is still missing."
Noelle blinks pointedly at the journalist. Smiles curtly and leans in, hushing to the boom mic over their shoulders. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what you did when you went in—" Peeks at the camera; fourth wall and all.

"—Cut it! Stop rolling — You bitch! We were almost done. You really are the bag everyone says you are."

"I told you not to ask about him. Now get the fuck out of my bag before I tell everyone what's in yours."
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╭━━━━━ and maybe you should sleep ━━━━━╮
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╰━━━ and maybe you just need a friend ━━━━╯
╭━━━━━━ as clumsy as you've been ━━━━╮
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╰━━━━━ there's no one laughing ━━━━━━╯
╭━━━━━━ you will be safe here ━━━━━╮
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╰━━━━━━━━━ h e r e ━━━━━━━╯

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Her name is Noelle ♫ I have a dream about her ♪ She rings my bell ◄◄ wheatus - teenaged dirtbag
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The nerve she had looking at him like that from across the hall. The nerve, the audacity from across the last decade of her making his life a living hell. He probably thought he was cursed seeing her there. He probably thought she was a witch, or a demon after him. For what? What could she want? Why did she smile? What the hell was his arch nemesis doing outside his Intro to Computer Sciences class?

"Hi Lee," She skips over to him, feet scuffling against the floor. The short skirt, and Mickey Mouse sweater are reminiscent of her avatar. She looks like a Swedish school girl. Blonde hair in a thick braid tossed over her shoulder. Freckles dusting her nose. Blue eyes that could have been sweet, but he knew better. He knew better.

"I thought I wouldn't know anyone here, but then I saw you and thought yessss! Lee, my favourite person ever!" She couldn't have lied any better — any worse? — than that. Chatting his ear off as they they walked into class arm in arm like old friends. It was like there was no shame for the years of torment. Lee the Loser on the playground. Lee the Loner in the halls. She was the kind of girl who used to flash him her panties in class to see him get a boner so she could laugh about it later on the bus. "You know that, right? Please tell me you know that..."

She loops her arm around his, clinging. Noelle always did this when she needed him.



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Neon Loop | Avatar Tracker - Sphinx New
OP
OP
Retrojapan

Retrojapan

۷ɛŋı ۷ıɖı ۷ıƈı
Supporter

ñêðñ Lððþ || Avatar Sequence


Avatar 2.0 sphinx
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Noelle finds herself standing before the photos on the wall. How symbolic. Exhibits A through Z looking back at her and she swallows back more emotions than she was prepared to deal with right then, if ever. She's brought back by the aromatics of the room. Vergil offers tea, and Noelle accepts. It was green tea. Her favourite. The ceramic mug burns her hands, but Noelle can't bring herself to look away from the last photograph. She wants to cry, but nothing comes. She can't cry anymore because that was the last avatar, Crybaby. This one was Sphinx, a gatekeeper and riddler. The treasure protector.

France

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Spain

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Netherlands

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Japan

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The photograph is not yet illustrated, suggesting the memory may still be somewhere inside of Lee.

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The Bell of Ryuren, Enoshima, Japan


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"Have you ever heard of that bridge with the locks? Never mind. It's really stupid. I don't even believe in that stuff anyways. Romance is dumb." Noelle runs away.

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"You didn't have to bring me here, Lee. Jeez. I know I'm going to love you for eternity." Noelle feigns disinterest.

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"Thank you."


"Thank you, Vergil." the redhead nods gratefully, and allows the warm beverage to warm up her engine. Her brain.

And thank God, because Vergil was giving Noelle the reality check she didn't want to hear. Everything he said felt like another knife through her back. Lee had been inside long enough to be completely repressed, suppressed, and for lack of a better word — undressed. The simulation effectively was, and would continue, to expose parts of him that even his wife didn't know about.

And likewise.

"While I agree that Lee is very generous." Noelle's brows furrow in thought, hand on chin as she continues to stare at the photograph from Enoshima. The lock. The key. You need one for the other, or else they're useless. You can't open a lock without a key. You can't close without a lock. If the simulation was closed... If Lee was the lock... If Noelle was the key... Did Lee sacrifice himself to shut everyone out from the simulation?

It made sense. They had made something so powerful that it was only a matter of time before the wrong people got hold of it. And even though Lee was the dreamer, and Noelle the realist, it would be Lee who understood what could happen if their simulation got into the wrong hands. Noelle was never the hero. Lee was. And now he needed her to be one.

"I disagree that this is his final gift to me, Vergil." Noelle offers a half-smile. As she looks around the room, one of her eyes begins to blacken and fill with a red lens.



Sphinx can protect and conceal aspects of the simulation by requiring human input / password protection. Noelle knows she must riddle Bierka and Lee with things they might not yet know, or remember. She installs the following measure to protect herself until she can figure out how to free Lee and escape. And she's running out of time, or rather — memories.

  1. Noelle's avatar will be invisible to Bierka and Lee unless they can answer correctly, or she turns it off
  2. Bierka will eventually be able to answer questions as it continues to gather memories
  3. Lee may know some answers already, but will remember more as he continues to dream back his life

INVISABILITY PASSWORD PROTECTION

╭─────────────────────────╮


Where did Lee Stonewall and
Noelle Jameson marry?


╰─────────────────────────╯



 
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OP
OP
Retrojapan

Retrojapan

۷ɛŋı ۷ıɖı ۷ıƈı
Supporter

ñêðñ Lððþ || moodboard


¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
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k i l l s h o t
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨​


¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
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d u h a s t
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¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
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i w a s m a d e f o r l o v i n g y o u
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¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
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c l o s e r
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
 
Keep Your Enemies Close | Evidence Tracker New
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¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
Status
▃▃ permissible
▃▃ disqualified

¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨​

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Dr. Mortimer Crain's handprint was preserved on Detective Francine Roman's shirt

------------------------------------------------​

One second she was virgin-white, the next she was Midas touched. Mortimer killed her with that one. Well played.

And he had to have known it, too. But Francine was doomed the moment she started ironing the pleated folds and high collars of her blouses for him. Or maybe it was when she went back to the dead girl's house and analyzed Lindsey Woolston's wardrobe, vanity and drawers to figure out what he liked. That's when she really doomed herself, wished herself, to be the next object of the killer's affection. To everyone else it was in the name of 'forensic science', but to Francine it was a little more personal to be going through Lindsey's drawers. And no Lindsey didn't iron press her blouses for Mortimer, but Francine would. She would wear the whole nine yards better than that stupid blonde bitch.

Slow down, Franky.

Mortimer must have known how Francine would inwardly rage, seethe and near self-combust knowing it was as easy as dusting herself off, but she wouldn't dare. No, Francine would just stare at the spot, and wash it away over and over again in her mind. In her mind, she was still pristine. In reality, she was preserving the evidence.

"Lead the way. I'll follow you." This would be her most spoken phrase the more time Francine spent with Mortimer. Eventually the detective would agree to indulge him in more ways than a visit to his old office could foretell, but for now this was what she could give him. And she did. Her company. Her diligent presence. She would bear his mark the entire time, guarding it from the elements and the compulsive need to simultaneously destroy it in order to reclaim herself. She would let him mark her. It was a test.


And if she could hold onto his badge of honour, then she was worthy. She told herself that, and proved herself of that, until they parted. And then Francine headed to the police station to hand the evidence in to Stanford.

Exhibit A ►
D̲r̲.̲ ̲M̲o̲r̲t̲i̲m̲e̲r̲ ̲C̲r̲a̲i̲n̲'̲s̲ ̲f̲i̲n̲g̲e̲r̲p̲r̲i̲n̲t

Case Notes ►
N̲o̲n̲e̲

Status ►
D̲e̲s̲t̲r̲o̲y̲e̲d̲



empty-photo-frame-on-a-wooden-table-picture-id1151479386


The photograph of Detective Lindsey Woolston and Dr. Mortimer Crain was illegally obtained from the Coroner's Office

------------------------------------------------​

"An anonymous donor? Of potential hard evidence against the L.A killer? You want me to bring it in to be analyzed, but not log it to the case?" The Police Chief doesn't waste another second on the application in front of him. In fact ripping it up and then pushing it off his desk onto the floor for emphasis. "Don't fuckin' shit me, Franks. This is your shirt. I remember the day you bought it. San Fran. Summer vacation twenty nine—" Stanford suddenly interrupts himself, eyes narrowing on the blouse. "Why is the handprint there?" His finger slams down on the place where Mortimer had left his just hours before. It was beyond reasonable doubt that someone had touched her there, of course, but the two former spouses continued to just stare between the shirt and each other for several moments too long. Make it end.

"Like, of all places? To have them there? It's... You see them, right? Do you see where they are?" Stanford finally picks the shirt up, bringing it closer to his face as if that made things any better. For the case. For the divorce. For the professional environment neither of them could ever uphold now. He wasn't even wearing gloves even though he was probably the cleanest person to touch the shirt that day. "Who touched you there?"

"The L.A Killer, if you were listening to anything I said."

"Hahahahahahaha. Ha! Ha!" Stanford's forced laugher was painful, the entire time glaring at Francine from across his office. "You letting Dr. Wacko cop a feel? That low now, Franky? That fucking low now. Wow. I really kept you in line, didn't I? I had no idea you would that easy, but hey, you do you, right?" His chair screeches as he slides it back, stands up and walks by her just to tower. Francine wants to tell him how Mortimer wiping his dirty hand on her blouse was more sexual than Stanford going down on her for ten years, but she lets him off the hook. This time. It was already awkward enough. "Submit another one. Write it properly, and then get your whore ass out of my station." Stanford leaves the office.

When he does, Francine sits at his desk like she's done a hundred times before. The drawers open and close as her gloved hands search for a pen. More shuffling to find the form, and then it all stops. The office gets real quiet. In one of the drawers staring up at her: the photograph of Lindsey and Mortimer together. The one that was missing from Lindsey's house. The one Stanford had taken from the morgue to build a case of his own, inadvertently framing himself, no pun intended, and now making Franky second-guess everything she thought she knew about the L.A killer. Why do you have this, Stan...

Francine rips up the second and last application to submit evidence against Mortimer Crain. She takes the shirt back to the hotel, and washes away the doctor's prints. The next day she wakes up wondering if she is pinning the wrong person for murder. Perhaps Mortimer really was an innocent man who just made her feel everything but.


Exhibit B ►
M̲i̲s̲s̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲p̲h̲o̲t̲o̲ ̲f̲r̲o̲m̲ ̲L̲i̲n̲d̲s̲e̲y̲ ̲W̲o̲o̲l̲s̲t̲o̲n̲'̲s̲ ̲r̲e̲s̲i̲d̲e̲n̲c̲e̲

Case Notes ►
N̲o̲n̲e̲

Status ►
C̲u̲r̲r̲e̲n̲t̲l̲y̲ ̲a̲t̲ ̲L̲A̲P̲D̲ ̲H̲Q̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲o̲f̲f̲i̲c̲e̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲C̲a̲p̲t̲a̲i̲n̲ ̲S̲t̲a̲n̲f̲o̲r̲d̲ ̲B̲e̲n̲n̲e̲t̲t̲

 
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Keep Your Enemies Close | Character Sheet - Stanford Bennett New
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╔══════════════════════════╗
S T A N F O R D
B E N N E T T

╚══════════════════════════╝

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╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
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➤ 38
➤ LAPD Captain
➤ Born and raised in LA
➤ "We're separated" or something

━━━━━━━━━━━━╯




╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮​
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➤ Fantasy Football
➤ Quarterback MVP
➤ "20 years ago, Stan"
➤ Coach

━━━━━━━━━╯



╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
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➤ colleagues to spouses
➤ back to colleagues

➤ marriage of 8 years
➤ Stanford owns house


━━━━━━━━━━╯

╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
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➤ motorcycle accident
➤ slight limp

➤ hides it at work

━━━━━━━━╯




╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
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➤ 80's hair metal
➤ Mötley fuckin Crüe
➤ secret Coldplay fan
➤ met Bob Dylan once


━━━━━━━━━╯




╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
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➤ Works solo
➤ Bad with technology

➤ Hasn't read Franky
➤ "Dr. Wacko"

━━━━━━━━━╯​

Stanford Bennett

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▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃​

The fact that Mortimer was agreeing with her felt like she just scored her first home run of the season. And it just kept getting better. His sigh at Stanford, like an adult to a child tantrum, was the closest Francine had been to uncontrollable laughter in years. It had been so long since anyone had been on her side, let alone proved it. Mortimer stole the smile right under her lock and key with that move. It would hardly be noticeable to anyone unless they were really watching her. Which Mortimer was. Stanford too. In a brief second that tiny lift in Francine's cheek saying I, Francine Adaline Roman, am guilty of adultery and professional misconduct for I am technically still married albeit wholly flattered and perhaps even a little proud that Dr. Crain should agree with my most humble opinion in front of my ex-husband whom I hate very much. God bless this man. I think I could love him. She wondered if Mortimer heard any of it when she smiled at him.

"Yeah it is up to us cause what are you? A pathologist?" Stanford now sneered at the doctor, his beady eyes daring Mortimer's like a boxer in the ring. Kill Bill sirens going off in his head. A challenger had appeared. The only control he had in that moment was the flare of his nostrils as he breathed in and out instead of smashing his head into Mortimer's face. "Why am I not even surprised? Bet you guys got a lot in common, don't you? A whole-fucking-lot in common." Stanford thrust a hand in his pocket like he always does when he feels threatened and needs balls. There they were. "You're just a fuckin' warrant away from a necrophilia charge, Dr. Wacko. Get lost." Stanford's face was so frozen it could have been the dead girl's.

"And you," Stanford stepped towards Francine. She stood her ground even though the bastard knew just how to make it hurt underneath that stone cold armor of hers. Humiliation. Criticism. Rejection. She loved it when she could actually feel the organ in her chest doing that thing that it did. Not pump. Not beat. Break. "You suck the life out of everything you've ever touched. You don't want her problems, man. Trust me." Stanford's voice gets louder and louder as the doctor leaves the room.


▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃​
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les oxalis
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mein herz brennt
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weak and powerless
 
Seven Sorrows | Kinship New
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la Croix • la Cœur • la Couronne

"Here before the sight of gods and men, for all my life until death, do I swear and uphold duty and fealty to my liege, King Mathis Fourth of His Name, to speak on His behalf when called upon, to wield my blade against His enemies, to maintain and protect the integrity of His lands, to never take audience or conspiracy against His life, to always be faithful to His divine rule. So swear I."


̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶       ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶​
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ʄąɱıƖყ
ཞɛƖıƈ
งirtนē
ƙıŋ
de la
𝕮œ𝖚𝖗

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♥
𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙





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⯯
globus cruciger





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⯯
devotion

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✝ Benoît Jean-Claude de la Cœur
killed in battle


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♔ Xander Matisse de la Cœur

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✝Hugo Benoît Claude de la Cœur
killed following his father

Xander's mother died during the birth of Hugo ◄
ʄąɱıƖყ
ཞɛƖıƈ
งirtนē
ƙıŋ

de la
𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖎𝖝

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†
𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰





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⯯
scepter





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⯯
selflessness


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✝ Josef Kylian de la Croix
killed in battle


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Jehan Honore Gustav de la Croix
pardoned


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♔ Octavia Estelle Geneviève de la Croix

Octavia challenged Jehan's pledge knowing he was ailing ◄
Octavia's mother died of suicide ◄
ʄąɱıƖყ
ཞɛƖıƈ
งirtนē
ƙıŋ

de la
𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊

4234444d2ca2a3fd6f28f5502c2b2708.jpg

♔
𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫




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⯯
crown





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⯯
loyalty
--------------Work
in
Progress ------------
 
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Seven Sorrows | Character Closet New
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╭────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────╮
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Tattoo▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

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Tattoos have cultural and religious significance in Tourbillon. They are the most respected symbol status
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for a tattoo can only be earned, and awarded by a King. There are several ways to achieve a tattoo of Vallor


► royal blood
► knight
► service to the King
► military
► punishment
► religious

Tattoos of Vallor are always black, and recognized for their sharp, crisp linework. Placements are commonly found in more defensive and vulnerable postures, as one might expect from cultures of protective superstitions.

Only Kings, doctors and cardinals can deliver a tattoo.


╰─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────╯



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╭───────────────────────────────────────────────╮
Octavia de la Croix ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
⇢ 5.6m, 169 cm | 126lb, 57kg
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
As unordinary as she was in Monteplain, the stable girl was anything but to the Lady's of Vallor's High Court.
Casual
Octavia will typically be wearing black leather trousers and riding boots with a billowy, beige tunic. Her hair waist length hair is often tied back in a half ponytail, or braided on one side.

Uniform
The army's uniform is a deep, royal blue with gold accents. The jacket will be structured across the shoulders with a fitted, tailored fit narrowing into the waist. Gauntlets, helmets, shoulder, and knee braces vary according to title, family and accomplishments. Octavia carries standard issues of all decoration aside from her helmet. A gold threaded sash of religious significance is around her waist.


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Armor
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
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"Godspeed you will have"

The armor of the de la Croix family commands a thinner, more flexible alloy than the usual suit. While it allows the wearer more agility and speed, the defense capacity is considerably lighter, and therefore less absorbent.


There are no markings or engravements on the suit, for it would continue to degrade it's already low defensive property. The main piece follows a black body con design, with heavier-fitted shoulder, elbow and abdominal padding. Chainmail covers the neck from the helmet, and continues over the chest underneath.


The heaviest part of the armor is Octavia's helmet, which is the only piece of the suit that is adorned. A gold spectre embellished with a cross comes out the top to represent the de la Croix's promise to God and King. Scriptures written in gold cover the rest.




╰────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────╯​





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╭─────────────────────────────────────╮
Lucien Augustin de
L'Côte Tourbillon
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
⇢ 6.2m, 188 cm | 180lb, 82kg
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨


Work in Progress
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Curabitur egestas mauris ipsum, id vulputate massa tempor nec. Fusce sollicitudin iaculis eros vitae blandit. Nulla tempor tempus bibendum. Nulla iaculis pharetra leo nec convallis. Fusce tempus dolor felis, vitae posuere ex pulvinar sit amet. Nullam enim diam, accumsan porta cursus et, sollicitudin vitae metus. Maecenas sit amet ligula massa. Donec ut diam non odio elementum maximus non eu massa. Sed arcu erat, tincidunt sed ante quis, feugiat feugiat nulla.


Tattoos
Nulla efficitur, velit sit amet viverra blandit, mi erat consequat tellus, vehicula mattis est felis non ante. Nam efficitur odio in quam rhoncus, id aliquet neque tincidunt. Integer tortor libero, mattis viverra risus a, sagittis cursus lectus. Nulla dignissim tincidunt eleifend. Pellentesque id hendrerit purus. Etiam ac lectus nec nisl ultricies viverra. Aliquam vel rhoncus risus, vitae pharetra augue. In elementum, purus vel pretium porta, ex dolor porttitor massa, id facilisis felis mauris ac velit. Sed facilisis cursus diam at finibus.

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Armor ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰



Work in Progress
Aliquam et arcu id orci malesuada volutpat. Curabitur in dictum lacus. Praesent luctus augue ante, in mollis orci laoreet vehicula. Integer malesuada egestas nunc pretium pharetra. Praesent ac tellus sed eros viverra sodales a sit amet ligula.


Nam erat nulla, aliquam sit amet lacus ac, ullamcorper gravida nunc. Fusce id lorem lorem. Ut euismod id sapien a interdum. Fusce tempor quis nibh in molestie. Nulla finibus ante libero, at sagittis enim venenatis sit amet. Donec a dolor faucibus, convallis est et, volutpat nibh. Curabitur sit amet ante vel felis pulvinar condimentum. Morbi vestibulum dictum ullamcorper. Curabitur in tincidunt sapien, eu tincidunt justo. Donec imperdiet sodales tellus, nec elementum turpis pellentesque vehicula. Nullam sit amet velit imperdiet diam hendrerit sodales ac id ipsum. Ut suscipit convallis nunc, vel rutrum nisi fermentum nec.







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OP
OP
Retrojapan

Retrojapan

۷ɛŋı ۷ıɖı ۷ıƈı
Supporter
W o r l d b u i l d i n g - Work in Progress
✁¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

just a place to store this while we work.





O n e ——
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T w o——
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T h r e e——
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"—he said you were going to do this. Turn me against him. He was right... I can't believe you, Mom. But who the fuck believes you anymore? You're strung out all the time and you're a fucking joke."

"I swear. He's fucking with me through you. He's trying to make me look crazy. You have to just listen and do what I say, ok? He's really good at this because he's a time traveler. Trust me. I know this sounds nuts. He is not whoever he tells you he is. He only looks cool because he knows shit about us. About me—"

"So he's gotta be who you say, right? Cause everything is always about you, it's gotta be some guy from your high school? Are you serious? Everything is always what you say. Everything I do is for you! When do I get what I want?"

"Oh my God, stop it. Right now.... You sound just like him."

"Who?"

"Your dad."
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How You Like Me Now


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OP
OP
Retrojapan

Retrojapan

۷ɛŋı ۷ıɖı ۷ıƈı
Supporter

𝒹𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈𝓈𝓊𝑒𝓈 || aesthetic

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝 ♫
┊┊┊
1970's
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Cassie Moses is going to break your heart.

She moves in across the alley and immediately
takes over the neighbourhood. For the next 30
years she's always got some hopeless guy
trailing behind her, paying the bills. She can't
afford the place, but she insists on staying.


2000's
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Isobel West is going to break apart.


She grew up in the same house her mom did,
and she follows after the same kind of guy, too.
You know, the one your parents always warn you
to stay away from. He'll get you in trouble. He's bad.
He's dangerous. He'll set you on the wrong path.


Even when he said it, she didn't care.

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Cassandra Leanne West née Moses
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born 1960. princess never worked a day in her life but some people still believe in her reign.
lives in the same house she grew up in. essentially a washed up groupie turned suburban
house wife with all the fixins. pill popper. shopper. she was in a band once. she still is,
they just haven't had a show for fifteen years.

Isobel Siobhan West
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born 1981. raised herself between a father who never felt like dad and a mom who was
always living in a different time. no one knows what to do with Izzy so no one does
anything. invisible. rebellious and defiant. attention seeking and lost. if you jump, I jump.
 
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