the great pretender.

“I don’t know how you survived that plane crash, but I’ve never been one to question providence; I’m Atlas, and I aim to keep you alive.” indie ( Atlas / Fontaine ) roleplay mun & muse 21+

[kingparasite]

Is this blog still active? I’d really like to rp with you but if your not very active I might not want to bother

oh gosh hi, sadly this blog hasn’t been active for quite a while but I have been feeling the rp itch lately, so if enough people wanted to write with me I probably would? )

[kingparasite]

[kingparasite]

@rhapsodyincodeyellow​

    “I don’t mean t’startle y’none, boyo, but you ain’t      lookin’ too right. Don’t suppose you’re gettin’      much rest out there?”

     A stupid question, now that Atlas thought about      it. Nowhere was safe -- not even to pause and      chew on a fingernail -- unless you happened to      be Ryan, or Atlas. Kept well out of the reach of     the common splicer. As entertaining as it was,     watching the kid crawl from the foot of the vita      chambers after each unique and gory death,      he did have a plan to complete. Without Jack      he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

     Couldn’t have his ace in the hole wandering      around in anything less than prime condition.

     Atlas clicked his tongue; tapping his fingers       against the desk in a steady rhythm before      pressing the button to speak.

    “I could always keep a close watch, y’know.      In case somethin’ comes up. Ryan can wait      a while ‘til you get that strength back up.”

[kingparasite]

@cewyll​

     Johnny, Hurwitz, Louie and McGee were all gone. It was just him      now -- a lonely figure casting a lonely shadow, bleeding at the      mouth and driven half mad by the unholy caterwauling of roving      splicers sounding off somewhere in the abandoned apartment      buildings above him. Camped together like cockroaches, they      were. If there was one to be seen, rest assured, there were at      least five more skulking around in the cover of shadow.

     Absolute hell to navigate alone, that was for sure.

     Certainly no place for an unescorted woman to be roaming      freely without a weapon at her hip -- who’d fortunately caught      Atlas’ eye before the veritable wasp’s nest of spliced up      lunatics had caught wind of her.

    “What do you think you’re doin’, lass?” He hissed from across      the way, raising his voice a touch higher than he’d have liked      to, considering their rather precarious set of circumstances.      He motioned her over from where he sat, crouched behind a       low, crumbling wall. Not much by way of protection, but it was      a damn sight better than being caught in the open without a       hope and a prayer.

    “Get behind somethin’ before they come an’ slice that head ‘a      yours clean off them pretty shoulders!”

[smuttybastard-blog]

((open))

[smuttybastard-blog]

Chance wasn’t proud to say that he flinched slightly at Atlas leaning over his desk, but, well, he did. The Irish fucker was scary. No matter how pleasant he was trying to act, there was no covering that up.

“Charming Personality” my ass. He finally managed to fish a proper pencil and sketchpad out of his desk. 

“Ryan has bigger problems to worry about than my books,“ Chance said calmly, beginning to trace a figure on the paper. "In fact, I have a feeling that he’ll rather approve of the next few that I have lined up.”

Chance was not surprised to report that, in real life, Atlas wasn’t anywhere near as handsome as he was on his posters. Whoever they had gotten to work those up had clearly taken artistic liberties. His jawline was nowhere near as square. “Chiseled” was not the first word that sprung to mind when considering the man. Chance would have offered “stocky” or “in need or a bath” instead.

Luckily, there was enough propaganda plastered around the city that most Rapturians would recognize the poster version of Atlas at a glance.

“Voice of the People, Voice of the People…“ Chance muttered. He knew exactly how much of a hole he was about to throw himself into, but he continued anyway. "You know, I rather like “Slut for the People” but it doesn’t have a good ring to it. Not yet, anyway. It’s gotta be snappier. Now, "The People’s Cumdumpster” could be promising, but it’s a bit of a mouthful. I’ll keep working on it.“

"Don’t worry,” he grinned at Atlas. “I always think of something,”

[kingparasite]

     The smile that rested precariously upon Atlas' lips was doomed to fade;      growing increasingly brittle the longer the man opposite continued to      speak, until it shattered completely. And as it always was with him, the      spectacular downfall of the Irishman's mood never failed to come      without a hearty side of collateral damage.

     He jumped out of his seat, sending it scraping back across the floor, to      snatch the pencil from the other man's fingers and – without wasting a      beat – driving it straight through the back of his hand with one powerful      strike of his fist.

    “What's that make you think, huh?” He roared, upping the pressure of      his hand, fingers tightening around the base of the makeshift weapon      even as it grew slippery with blood. If it was a half crazed and spitting      lunatic he'd hoped to draw out of him, then it was safe to say that he'd      got exactly what he'd wanted. His broad chest heaved, lungs unable      to keep up with the irrepressible rage that consumed his every      thought, drove his every action from thereon out. 

    “Got enough inspiration yet? Or do y'need me to tear an even bigger      hole in that lyin' sack 'a shit you call a body?”

     Had him figured for another one of his spineless victims, did he?      Thought him too meek and afraid of public backlash that he would      refuse to raise a single finger against him? Oh, how the citizens of      Rapture continued to disappoint him bitterly.

    “You'd best change that disgustin' little tune you're singin' there, pet,” he      spoke again, quieter now, a flash of madness striking a light in the dark      pits of Atlas' eyes as he leant ever closer. “'Cause there ain't nothin' in      the world that Ryan can do to stop me from skinnin' you alive here an'      now.”

[smokenwrench-blog]

It wasn’t much. Atlas just needed a hand, just for a while. That was nothing compared to all Jack had done before. And if the man needed any patching up, Jack could fix him right up as he’d done to himself numerous times since he wound up in Rapture. A single first aid kit should be more than sufficient to heal whatever wound had been dealt to Atlas.

The emotional pain, however, he could do nothing about, to which he felt almost ashamed of. He still wasn’t aware that the family Atlas claimed to have was nothing more than a blatant lie.

“Just tell me where exactly you are and I’ll be there.”

His voice comes surprisingly soft, as if he was used to comforting others in their time of need. It was even the first time he’d given Atlas more than a hum in response. Despite how tough he may have come across due to all the blood he’d spilt recently, but the man was truly soft at his core and he’d fall prey to almost any sob story thrown his way because of it.

[kingparasite]

     So the kid could speak. That was reassuring. Atlas had been      much too quick to pass off the boy's selective mutism as a      technical fault on Suchong's part, or perhaps the result of      one too many knocks to the head as he'd fallen from the sky.      The specifics were best left pondered at a later date, when      there wasn't a tear in his abdomen and the threat of death      wasn't hanging over his head like a dark and oppressive      shadow.

     Atlas hoisted himself up where he sat, squinting against      a haze of light that sought to blind him; combing the      surroundings for any outstanding features that might      aid the boy in finding him sooner.

    “Can't see much … just green, green an' more green,” he      chuckled in spite of everything, taking more breath out of      him than he could truly afford to lose. “There's a waterfall      nearby, I'm sure. Poster of me'self just across the way –       can't be too far from where y'came in.”

     His arms gave out on him then, unable to stop himself from      sliding back down to the cold earth beneath his palms. The      Irishman closed his eyes against his better judgement,      breathing slower now.

    “Y'ought t'leave me behind, boyo. Ain't too many reasons      left for me t'keep on goin' after all – you still got a family of      your own t'get back to, don’t ya?”

[marazhai]

“Now. What was that you said about Rapture?”

[kingparasite]

Visit Original Link

Frank Fontaine | Moira and Patrick

“Oh, me poor Moira. Ah, me wee baby Patrick!”

[smokenwrench-blog]

     He’d just made his way into the Tea Garden when the crackling      of the radio causes Jack to pause.

     Hearing Atlas pant between words, Jack’s stomach twists. He      should’ve been able to help him, to help his family, he thinks. He      should’ve been able to warn him somehow. Yet Andrew Ryan had      gotten the better of the both of them, and now, he’s sure, Atlas is      suffering with the loss of his family on top of the wounds the splicers      managed to deal him. It wasn’t right.

     So, leaning against a tree which was sprouting countless pink flowers,      he listens carefully to his ally, urging him to continue. The bark digs      into his back ever so slightly, rubbing up against a handful of sore      spots in the process. But the tree keeps him balanced, giving him a brief      reprieve before he continues on his way. If Atlas needs a favor, now of      all times, Jack would be more than willing to lend the man a hand.

[kingparasite]

    “Listen, I – ”

     He winced, sucking a breath between his teeth. Pressing      a hand to his side, only for it to come away wet with blood.      Atlas cursed. One might argue that it was what he      deserved for underestimating Ryan's goons, thinking he      could take on a dozen at a time without another man at      his back. They'd almost ruined his entire performance.

     Mournful cries for a set of charred corpses with fake      names would have to wait, unfortunately. Bleeding out      had never been part of the act.  Neither was a nasty      death at the hands of a rogue splicer likely chance      upon him in so sorry a state. All he needed from the      kid was a bandage or two, a shoulder to lean on in this      time of need. He'd only just lost his family after all, hadn't      he? Jack would have been heartless to refuse him.

    “I know you got your own world of troubles t'deal with right      now, but I need you t'come on over an' pull me out 'a this      mess I'm in – just as far as th'bathysphere station, that's      all I’m askin’ ... please.”

[breakthecutie]

   IT FELT LIKE knives.  The short-wave radio clenched    in her grasp, sharp corners digging into tissue with    sweat  &&. –  if she kept it up,  BLOOD.  She didn’t.    Not for fear over such a trivial matter as spilling    crimson, but concerns over the durability of the device.      As she were,  SQUEEZING, SQUEEZING ‘till it    CRUSHED would be no challenge of hers.  It was, after    all, for the sake of the radio being the sole means of    communication with the one more monster than man.     –Was there a difference?? This isn’t what fear looks    like  [she’s lost that luxury].  This is a  swelling rage.    In her voice it made home.        ❝ SALLY, ❞   A pointed correction, ❝ Is no concern    of yours.   – What do you want, Atlas?? ❞

[kingparasite]

     Amazing, what the power of voice could do. He      didn't have to be stood there in the same room      with her to know that his words had carried the      desired effect of creeping into the girl's ear like      a malignant disease – dragging the ugliest of      her memories to the very forefront of her      mind, kicking and screaming bloody murder.

    “Call that creature whatever y'want, darlin' –      it don't make one bit of difference to me,” he      said, a mild shrug all that was given in      response to her contemptuous tone of voice.       Unseen by her, of course.

    “I couldn't help but notice that she ain't clingin'      to your skirts no more, that's all. A bit careless,      ain't it? Considerin’ how generous I was in lettin’      you live.”

[dramaticaltunes]

Visit Original Link

Lift up the receiver I’ll make you a believer

[smuttybastard-blog]

((open))

[smuttybastard-blog]

Chance nearly laughed in his face. Wouldn’t pay? This champion, this “man of the people” thought that they’d work for free. As if. It seems this Atlas fellow was more typical Rapture bullshit, just wrapped up in a new package.

But when it came down to it, though, what did he hate more? The new Rapture bullshit? Or the old Rapture bullshit?

At least with Ryan, you know what you’re getting.

“’Blackmail and slander’, ‘persuasive materials’, call it what you will,” Chance shrugged, shuffling around papers on his desk. This meeting was effectively over. A brand new 8-pager was already taking shape inside his head and it was not going to be kind.

“You think you’re going to change every mind with a gun? For a populist champion, that’s certainly a bloodyminded way to go about it. Half the men in Rapture will be dead before you finish your little war,” he muttered as he fished around in his desk drawers for a pencil.

He wasn’t a pacifist. He wasn’t. But there was no reason for senseless killing, people can’t buy things when they’re dead.

“Oh, Remember what Culpepper did to Cohen? ‘Ryan’s Stableboy?’ Complete character assassination, all wrapped up in a dirty little song.” Chance couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t have a hand in that. If there was anyone in Rapture he truly hated, it was that clownfaced hack.

“That right there was the best bit of “blackmail and slander” yet. It didn’t cost a single life. Well, other than her own.”

[kingparasite]

     He wasn't looking for a hand out. Perish the thought. The fight may have      been far from over, but Atlas' cause was not doing so terribly that it's      leader had been forced to personally kiss the boots of human       cockroaches for the sake of a cheap political boost.

     The Irishman chose to linger a while longer, somewhat spitefully, making      himself at home within the stiff confines of his chair. Considering whether      or not it was truly worth pulling the 'nice' card in place of killing the      bastard outright. It would've been the greatest pleasure to have him      dragged down to the docks by the teeth, to see his head dunked beneath      the surface of the ice cold water until the last of the air bubbles ceased to      pop. 

     He wouldn't have been the first.

    “Actually, I was plannin' on winning 'em over with my charmin' personality,”      he began, straightening in his seat and wearing a winning smile. “Sounds      to me like you got it all wrong, boyo. I never set out to make war, y'know;      it was Ryan that forced our hand – makin' us  all out to be a pack of      bloodthirsty maniacs who don't know right from wrong. But we ain't like      that, y'hear? We're just as civilised as everyone else down 'ere in Rapture.      Just ask anyone.”

     Atlas leant across the desk with his smile still set in place. Patient and      kind, like a good leader ought to be.

    “But I ain't here to win your vote. Our people … we might not be able t'fork      over our weight in gold, but there must be somethin' else you're wantin'      after. After all, what's t'stop Ryan an' his goons from comin' down 'ere an'      stringin' you up like he did to Frank Fontaine – to that Lamb woman, an'      all. Do you really think he'd turn a blind eye for your sake? I really hate to      burst your bubble, lad, but you ain't nothin' to him but dirt beneath his toes.      It's high time you looked out for yourself, understand?”

[smuttybastard-blog]

((open))

[smuttybastard-blog]

“No name dragging at all, nothing of the sort,” Chance backpedaled smoothly. It turned out that this Atlas chump struck a far more intimidating figure than he was lead to believe. The last thing he needed was a broken thumb, a broken wrist, a broken anything.

“Or at least, it’s nothing personal, that is. Just how business gets done in Rapture. At the end of the day, us studio boys will be drawing a prick slipping up someone’s ass. Only question is who.”

“And who knows, maybe it could even help the cause. The general public, or at least– the typical “Johnny Rapture” type, eats our books up. Positively can’t get their hands on enough of them. We can’t print them fast enough.”

Chance made a show of realization dawning on him. It was a practiced look, one that he flashed at various folks countless times a day.

“Why, maybe,” Chance grinned, “just maybe together we together could turn the tables on ol’ Ryan. What do you say?”

[kingparasite]

     A broken finger would’ve been the least of his problems if Atlas had      been given reason to put his hands on him. Awful smart of him to      rethink his method of persuasion when he did. 

     The Irishman couldn’t deny, however, that the prospect of turning      Ryan into a laughing stock on as grand a scale as he claimed was      a rather tempting one. What a delight it would be to see him pulled      from his shiny pedestal and turned into nothing but common fuck      fodder for all the good people of Rapture to drink up and savour      for years to come. 

     What a thorn it would create in the old bastard’s side. 

     Alas, no one was quite as well versed in the art of the grift as      Fontaine was; he could tell when someone was trying to play      him for a sucker. This silver-tongued wise guy wasn’t about to      do anything out of the puritanical goodness of his heart. Not on      anyone’s behalf. True to his nature as a working class      revolutionary, Atlas was as dirt poor as they came. He was      fishing around in the wrong man’s pockets.

    “I ain’t forkin’ over a single penny if that’s what you’re anglin’      at,” he parted with a sneer. 

    "If y’haven’t noticed, pet, there’s a war goin’ on out there.      An’ I can tell y’first hand that it don’t leave y’with much      pocket change for blackmail an’ slander.”

[kingparasite]

@smokenwrench​

    Crouched at the foot of a wall marred by overgrown tendrils of     ivy, the Irishman groaned and cast his eyes upward, shielding     them from the offensive brightness of the overhead lights with     a single gloved hand. With his intended escape route blocked     by a wall of burning debris, he’d been forced to take a quick     detour through scenic Arcadia -- pausing only to tend to his     aches and pains. Seems like one splicer had got lucky with     one of it’s hooks, if the nasty puncture wound in his side was     any indicator. A standard issue pack of bandages and a pair     of blood-slick hands could only do so much for a nasty job     like that.

   “I hate t’ask y’this, boyo,” he began between laboured     breaths, having finally mustered the strength to lift the     radio from where it had fallen in the nearby grass.

   “But I could really use a favour.”

[themysteriousakavir]

PAN'S LABYRINTH - sentence meme (en inglés)

I’ve bolded my favorites.

❝ I don’t understand why you had to bring so many books. ❞

❝ You’re a little old to be filling your head with such nonsense. ❞

❝ I saw a fairy! ❞

❝ That’s not necessary, I can walk perfectly well…❞

❝ Better not go in there. You may get lost. ❞

❝ She’s sick with child. Did you notice? ❞

❝ Those bastards know the terrain better than any of us. ❞

❝ This will help you sleep through the night. Just two drops before bed. Two drops only. ❞

❝ Close the door and turn off the lights, sweetie. ❞

❝ The wound is getting worse. His leg isn’t any better. ❞

❝ Here, the houses are old. They creak… as if they were speaking.  ❞

❝ Why did you have to get married? ❞

❝ I’m with you. You weren’t alone. You were never alone. ❞

❝ Men talked amongst themselves about their fear of death, and pain, but never about the promise of eternal life. ❞

❝ Don’t fuck with me. ❞

❝ You killed him… you killed him! Murderer! Son of a bitch! ❞

❝ Maybe you’ll learn to search these assholes properly before you come to bother me. ❞

❝ Look. This is a fairy. ❞

❝ It’s you! You’ve returned! ❞

❝ I’ve had so many names… old name that only the wind and the trees can pronounce. ❞

❝ You were not born of man. It was the moon that bore you. ❞

❝ Prepare these rabbits for dinner tonight. ❞

❝ He’s nothing but a fussy dandy. A fussy dandy! ❞

❝ They eat more than a couple of pigs, and they never shut up. Not even underwater. ❞

❝ What I would have given to have a dress like this at your age. And look at the shoes! ❞

❝ You’ll look like a princess… ❞

❝ Do you want some milk with honey? ❞

❝ I believed in a lot of things I don’t believe anymore. ❞

❝ When the woods were young, they were home to creatures who were full of magic and wonder. ❞

❝Those sons of bitches are here… and they’re watching us. ❞

❝ They’re losing ground, and one of them is wounded. ❞

❝ These people hold the mistaken belief that we’re all equal. ❞

❝ If we need to kill every one of these vermin to settle it, we’ll kill them all, and that’s that. ❞

❝ Have I ever told you that I was acquainted with your father? ❞

❝ What you’ve done hurts me. ❞

❝ Make her/him/them well. I don’t care what it costs or what you need. Make her/him/them well. ❞

❝ You’re helping the men in the woods, aren’t you? ❞

❝ Do you know a lullaby? ❞

❝ When that man finds out about us, he’ll kill us all. Have you thought about that? ❞

❝ Look. This is a mandrake root—a plant that dreamt of being human. ❞

❝ The thing that slumbers there… it is not human. ❞

❝ I’ll try to make it in as few cuts as possible. ❞

❝ I’m a coward for living next to that son of a bitch. ❞

❝ You’ll meet her; she’s very pretty, even though she’s sometimes sad for many days at a time. You’ll see, when she smiles… you’ll love her. ❞

❝ Listen, if you do what I say, I’ll take you to my kingdom and make you a prince. ❞

❝ God only knows what they wanted, other than to waste our time. ❞

❝ Go ahead, don’t be afraid! This is the only decent way to die! ❞

❝ I’ll make you a deal. If you can count to three without st-st-stuttering, you can go. ❞

❝ Don’t look at him, look at me. Above me there is no one. ❞

❝ All memory of you will fade in time, and we will vanish along with it. ❞

❝ I like having you handy, ____. It has its advantages. ❞

❝ K-k-k-kill me, kill me now. Please. ❞

❝ Magic doesn’t exist! Not for you, not for me, not for anyone! ❞

❝ Please, take me away from here! Let’s just go, please! ❞

❝ The world is a cruel place. And you’ll learn that, even if it hurts. ❞

❝ To obey–just like that–for the sake of obeying, without questioning… that is something only people like you can do. ❞

❝ What must you think of me? You must think I’m a monster. ❞

❝ It doesn’t matter what someone like me thinks. ❞

❝ How long have you been laughing at me? Little bitch! ❞

❝ If anyone tries to get in… kill her first. ❞

❝ That’s what you’ve always thought. That’s why I was able to get away with it. I was invisible to you. ❞

❝ Damn. You’ve found my weakness: pride. ❞

❝ I’m not an old man, nor a wounded prisoner! ❞

❝ You wouldn’t be the first pig I’ve gutted! ❞

❝ Don’t be a fool, sweetheart. If anyone’s going to kill you… let it be me. ❞

❝ We’re leaving. Together. Don’t be afraid… nothing is going to happen to you. ❞

❝ Just a drop of blood. A pinprick, that’s all. ❞

❝ You promised to obey me without question! ❞

❝ Tell my son… tell him what time his father died. Tell him… that I– ❞

❝ No. He won’t even know your name. ❞

❝ You have spilled your blood rather than the blood of an innocent. ❞

❝ She reigned with justice and a kind heart for many centuries ❞

❝ She left small traces of her time on Earth, visible only to those who knew where to look. ❞

[kingparasite]

@breakthecutie

    “Ah, would y’look at that. Look who’s still alive an’      kickin’ after all this time.”

     His voice crackled to life over the radio waves --      alarmingly jovial in nature, greeting her as if she      were a long lost friend. 

    "How’s that little brat of yours doin’, love? Don’t      suppose she’s run off an’ found her way into a      splicer’s belly by now?”

[smuttybastard-blog]

((open))

“Now, seeing as you’re an influential type around here, I wouldn’t ever want any of my boys going and drawing a dirty mag starring you.”

He took a long drag from his cigarette and put on his best sympathetic face.   

“ Of course, the only way to guarantee that would be throwing a bit of cash our way. Help us keep the lights on at the studio, nothing terribly fancy. Just a modest sum, anything you see fit to keep your name and likeness… unbesmirched.”

[kingparasite]

     If it really was money he was looking to extort from his fellow citizens, he      had chosen a rather poor target in Atlas. Though it made sense, in a way.      He was a man with a reputation to keep and this man made business in      tearing good names down. Together they made the perfect partnership      of victim and prey. Only Atlas wasn’t known for responding exceptionally      well to threats, the kind that spilled from the mouths of vultures least of all.

    “And they best not, if any of ‘em happen t’be keen on keepin’ their thumbs.      I’d just hate to put any a’your fine, upstandin’ young lads out of a job for      th’rest of their lives.”

     The Irishman flashed him a grin then; all teeth and no charm.

    “If you’re really that determined t’drag my name through the mud, you best      get in line, brother. There ain’t nothin’ you can do that our old pal Ryan      ain’t already tried.”