"I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

Death. Grim Reaper. I have many names. But all come to rest under me ~ Indie RP Account for Death. OC and crossover Friendly ~ Penned by Alex

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

realprojectalice:

The familiar burn in her throat grounded Alice, making her sigh and relax all the more in the stranger’s presence. “I didn’t know what to expect when it comes to death, but it definitely wasn’t this.” Looking him over, she decided to heed his words and try to enjoy the peace he was giving her right now. 

“Ain’t that the truth…” she said, taking a log drag of her cigarette and savoring the taste. “Is this what you do…watch people in life and guide them beyond, even if you don’t know the next part of the puzzle?” Arching a brow, she watched him curiously, waiting for his response. 

The man pursed his lips. His dark eyes looked to the ceiling as he contemplated the answer. He bobbed his head and waved his hand in a ‘sort-of’ gesture.

“Yes, for the most part,” came his answer. He began to shift in the chair, leaning forward as he spoke. “Yes, I watch people in life and then guide them beyond, if they agree to come. But.” He paused. Folks didn’t like this part so much. Honesty, however, was always better in these situations. Dark eyes met her gaze as he spoke. “When I say I can’t tell you what happens next, it’s not because I don’t know. I’ve watched the path of every soul. I’ve seen where they’ve been. Of course I know where they’ll go. 

“But to tell a soul what’s on the other side of eternity?” His eyes went wide with a huff passing his lips. “It’s a bit like trying to explain the fourth dimension to a kindergartner. Or a telephone to an ant. It’s not in their conscious reality. It won’t mean anything to them. Then, of course, more I insist, the more it sounds like I’m luring them into my van. Rather than find peace in something new and strange, they chose to roam the familiar physical world, eventually going mad as spirits and ghosts.”

He shook his head with a small sigh. “I am an objective being representing an impartial force of the universe. And remaining is absolutely a valid choice a soul can make, but...” He clicked his tongue. “It’s really quite a shame if you ask me.”

[missadler1897]

Photo by Paul McAlpine, 1983.

[psy-ritual-blog]

The world’s first statue of David Bowie has been unveiled in the town where he premiered Ziggy Stardust. The bronze sculpture, designed by Andrew Sinclair, was erected this morning March 26, 2018, and it shows Bowie alongside his various alter egos. According to Variety VIA BBC, the statue has speakers above it, that plays a different David Bowie Song every hour. As of Saturday, the town in Buckinghamshire is now home to a landmark statue - in homage to the fact it was where the artist first debuted Ziggy Stardust. The late singer has now been remembered in the form of the new figure, just over two years since he passed away.The statue will be situated in Aylesbury market square.

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

I love this so much!! David Bowie means a lot to me. He was such an amazing artist who revolutionized music and art. Iconic is a perfect word. There’s no one quite like him.

But I have a personal connection to Bowie too. I don’t have many memories with my dad. The ones I do have are always music related somehow. He loved Bowie so much and even got me to love him too. When I think of Bowie, I think of my dad.

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

stratcom-agent-kennedy:

“What’s the fucking exchange rate?” Leon snapped suddenly, outraged that this guy—he’s Death and you know it; you’re just too dumb to acknowledge it—threw all those accidental (preventable, Leon, this is your fault) deaths in his face. As if living with them wasn’t enough, now he had to die with them too? They were some kind of eternal albatross around his neck…

“Why don’t I remember any of this, huh? When you send me back—I’ll forget it, right? I’ll keep coming back, keep killing people to stay alive…”

He was working through it verbally, and all anger was really and truly directed internally, but it felt good to shout at someone.

“How. Many.”

Death was silent. He looked across the desk at Leon Kennedy--an agent and a hero, maybe, but a simple soul bargaining for his life here. Dark and ancient eyes watched the man, looking past the visible body, directly into the man ’s soul.

“...Are you sure you want to know, Mr. Kennedy? Really sure...?”

Leon Kennedy had many traits about his character. Most were rather admirable. However when it came to guilt, he drowned in it. One could think his body had been equal parts alcohol and misery. Why did he look to fight more? Was death not a release that he desired? Why did he wish to dive deeper into his own grief as he did?

He was welcome to pull the curtain back. However, Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what he would find. It wouldn’t help him in any way. Humans craved their own destruction. That had and would forever be true.

“I can tell you. But what will it matter? You’ll either return to the physical realm, where it will only grow. Or, you stop now, and I can promise you your death count won’t even come up when you’ve moved on.

“So tell me.” He raised his hands in an open gesture to the agent. “Do you really want to know?”

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

realprojectalice:

Well, there’s that at least, I guess.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but Alice was grateful that they found some semblance of peace in death. For people who shouldn’t have been brought to life, they could at least rest now. 

Blinking, she watched him curiously, snorting a bit at is comment. “Good thing I’m already dead, then,” she deadpanned, though her eyes were light. They darkened a bit when he spoke again, however, and she slumped a bit in her seat, crossing her legs and sighing. 

How long was she going to be stuck here?

“Resolve my business…what business? Am I supposed to have a coming to Jesus moment or something?” she spat, feeling a bit irate over this whole thing. While he mentioned seeing loved ones, her face softened and she found her throat getting dry.

“…I don’t have anyone to see. And I can give a shit about the universe.” Her eyes lingered on the cigarettes as they were moved towards her, the familiar itch in her throat growing stronger. Alice grasped them, wondering briefly if they were real, before pulling one out and lighting it. The smell put her at ease. “At least I can smoke in peace. Thank you,” she added, nodding her head in his direction.

“It’s the small things.” A smile played on his thin lips. He was rather casual for being an eternal entity. Alice had been through all calamities the universe could conspire to throw at her and despite every force, she’d carved her way through, finding her way to the very end. The small things stood much higher when up against the horror-scape of her reality.

He adjusted himself in order to better face the woman. “When people have unfinished business, they like to stay around and see it out. I usually don’t recommend it as it mostly just prolongs attachment to the physical realm, but I always have to offer the choice. I can’t force a spirit into their afterlife. That’s not how it works.

“No, a person has to chose to come with me... I can’t tell you what’s waiting for you beyond the veil, but...” Dark eyes looked across at the woman, simply watching her the way he had for every year of her existence; her, Alicia Marcus, and every single clone that spawned between the two of them. He saw everything, knew every conversation that she’d ever had. To her, he was but a single stranger with power--a sight she was not unfamiliar with--but to him, she was like an old friend.

He raised his hands. “I promise, I mean you no thoughtless violence or undeserved harm. You’ve had enough megalomaniacs lording their power over you. I’d simply like to congratulate you. On a job well done and to offer you some well deserved peace.”

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

I have no doubts that Death likes to go to the surface to engage in some random activities.

Number one is of course Karaoke. He’s very good at it and loves it so much. His song choices vary from ‘Ashes to Ashes’ and ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ to ‘Shake it Off’ and ‘Cut To The Feeling.’

He’s not picky. He’s here for a good time.

[justvisiting-bowie-blog]

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

stratcom-agent-kennedy:

Maybe Death had a point. Was it time to hang up the spurs, as the old saying went? Leon hated the way Death was able to appeal to his innermost exhaustion, drawing it out ‘til it was a shout, rather than a dull ache. He was old, tired, and bound to slip up again, too soon after returning, if that was what he chose to do.

So what if he bought himself a few more months, even years? How many people had to die so he could go on in his mad crusade? Fifty? One hundred? How much was the price of returning a soul so many times?

And who were the others?

He shook his head as if to clear it, but only succeeded in muddying the waters. There was no clear answer, not for him. A normal person would have hung it up after the first time, thinking of others more than themselves, or, more likely, unwilling to take on the burden of that guilt.

Leon carried it with him, unknowing what it was (as was the custom), but understanding it was real, worthy of being toted about, and necessary. Now, here he was, clearing at the end of his life’s path in sight, and he was contemplating turning back.

Again.

“How many?”

As in… how many lives would he sacrifice for his own this time?

The man was silent. Dark, unmoving eyes stared back from across the desk. All he could ask himself was how many times would this happen. Everytime, he’s sure it will be the last, and then the agent arrives and seems to fall down the same path.

His hands lowered to the table and he spoke, voice soft.

“...Think about all of the people you’ve killed, Mr. Kennedy... All of the dead you put back down, all of the humans you weren’t in time to save, the accidents you couldn’t have stopped even if you tried...”

The number was vast. Finite, but vast. Leon knew this as well as Death himself did, only Death knew the exact amount; he had it written down, held within one of the man’s files. If matters hadn’t been so serious, he might have presented a guessing game. How well did the soldier know his death count?

“And know that just about...half of that has been for me, whether you knew it or not. If you were to return to the realm of the living, that percentage will increase.” 

It was simply the fact of death. You could not get life without something in return. There were no exceptions, not even for Leon Kennedy.

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

vaecordxa:

She froze, fixing the other with an odd sideways glance. 

So you’re a mind reader, too. 

Slowly her gaze slipped back to the VISION, the too-real presentation of that strangely tiny- and broken-looking her-but-not-her lying on burnt and parched earth, the reality of it perhaps still not quite taking hold. Hawker had never once in her life believed in an afterlife, much less a personified entity representing death, and the concept that one could have a conversation with said entity pushed this experience well beyond belief. At the same time, it felt too REAL; she remembered how she’d fallen when she knew she would not get up again. Even all the bravado and stubbornness she could muster had not obscured the reality of the rapidly failing state of her body and mind – she had been too grievously wounded to survive more than minutes, if that, and she’d known. 

It was this she considered as she let his words float by, unimpressed by the perceived sympathy. Long ago she had agreed to give her life for the betterment of the world – literally, if needed – and if she WERE truly dead, she wanted no pity. But the tone of his speech…that stood out to her. 

Was he giving her an OPTION?

“One thing.”

She turned back to him, as if to avert her eyes from the evidence threatening to shatter an entire lifetime of belief. 

“Right before I decided to Wile E. Coyote my ass off a cliff, I promised an old friend a one-way ticket to Hell, on me.

– Did I deliver?”

The inevitable question. Unfinished Business: the one thing that Death could do truly nothing about. It was only natural, of course. The sense of immediacy was so strong for living things. They couldn’t see the bigger picture. They couldn’t see the gears of the universe or hear the music coming from the spheres.

He sighed. His hands slid into his pockets. He looked her right into her eyes.

“No,” he said. “No, you did not.”

If he had an enemy it would be Unfinished Business.

“But, Miss Hawker, I... cannot stress enough: Your time is done. What happens in the physical realm shouldn’t concern you anymore. Your life has ended and you can finally have peace. No more pain. No more fear.”

Those dark eyes were firm, looking deep into her, right into her soul.

“You can go back... But you will only suffer, far more than you have already. Are you sure that’s what you truly want?”

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

Epitaph: Back from the Dead

Hello Everyone

It’s no surprise that I’ve been away for a while. A lot of things happened. I had to take time away for my own sanity. I’ve gotten a lot better. I’m in a new home now. My partner’s been helping me personally, and now feel I’m ready to come back.

I would like to pick up where I have left off, but I understand if it’s been too long for some of you. If that’s the case, then I would love to start some new threads, if any of you are willing.

Thank you for your patience.

And as always, Death awaits

~Alex

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

Epitaph: An Appology

Life has been chaotic. I’m trying to get things together, but I imagine I continue to be off and on in the coming weeks.

Thank you for your patience and your understanding. I appreciate it very much.

~🖤💀

[dappermouth]

Deep woods hide saints of another kind — holy, unholy, beast and divine.

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

vaecordxa:

Hawker visibly JUMPED; the shift in scenery and movement-without-movement she’d just been subjected to reminded her very much of the minute time-lapses which had occurred previously when she’d been under the influence of SOMETHING, though this did not feel the same. No, her senses were entirely too sharp, her directional awareness too finely calibrated. 

She studied the sight before them in silence for a few moments. Oh, she remembered those moments in EXCRUCIATING detail; she remembered being quite aware that her last desperate charge was suicide. For all the cornered-dog FIGHT that had been in her, for all the strength that had still driven her broken body, it had been a battle she could not win and walk away from. She’d known. 

But yet she still did not want to believe; when the darkness had come it had been too gentle and welcome to be her preconceived notion of death; and it clearly had not been the end. For Hawker, nothing short of experiencing it herself would have convinced her that there was anything beyond that stillness, that BLACKNESS, and even this she would – and did – doubt. 

After a while, she folded her arms across her chest, eyes riveted on herself. A sense of dissociation had set in, as if she registered on a level of vague understanding that the image was her, but did not recognize herself – as if she were looking into a mirror and seeing the reflection of a stranger. 

“There wasn’t another OPTION.”

I didn’t do it for the GLORY. 

“No,” Death nodded, a sober sincerity in his voice. “You did not. You died to end something you saw as evil. Your effort is truly commendable, Ms. Hawker.” It was just a pity the thing she died for did not come through. Her sacrifice was tragically in vain, though she hadn’t seemed to notice that just yet. Hopefully she wouldn’t and move on in peace.

“This is the moment you died,” he said, gesturing towards her frozen form. “It’s tragic you passed so young, but... This means your fight is over. You can take your true rest. Find peace...”

It was something. She definitely seemed struck by the sight of herself in the crash. It always resonated with people, seeing themselves in their final moments--the second their life came to its end.

“You’re dead, Miss Hawker... Truly dead. I can try and help grant you closure, but... In the end, I hope you’ll agree to step through to the afterlife.”

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

stratcom-agent-kennedy:

Leon thought about it, really thought. He was achy all over… Perhaps not now, but he had been, he recalled, this morning in the shower—and getting achier by the day. He wasn’t young. Forty-one was hardly a spring chicken by any stretch of the imagination, especially doing what he did for a living. Some living, he heard himself scoff audibly, though it had been a thought.

He’d done more in his lifespan than most people his age and older. Leon had buried more friends than most, too. He wondered if that was the toll Death meant. A toll he’d evidently paid before, multiple times.

“How many people are like me?” He asked, beginning to form a thought. If every person on earth got the chance to try again, then was Raccoon City caused by such a thing?

Death moved a hand over the four files, each disappearing in a split moment, leaving the desk open for Death to fold his hands over the dark wood. His dark eyes were unmoving from Leon, watching the man intently. They’d had this conversation a number of times, and yet it never seemed to change...

“Very few have chosen to return,” he said. “Some will consider, but are often dissuaded by the idea of trading their lives for others. Of those who do make the decision, very few make the deal a second time. I believe, in your time period... there were only 10 other people who had returned to life more than three times. You being one of them of course.”

Hopefully, Death could bring that number down to 9, if he could... He had no obligations to humanity. Leon could return to his body until it fell a part from the stress of it all if he so desired. But Death wasn’t all uncaring. Some semblance of a natural order needed to be maintained. Leon certainly wasn’t helping.

“...Mr. Kennedy...” Death leaned forward on the table, doing his best to make sure Leon was hearing him clearly, not hiding in his own head. “You’re a very strong man. You’ve fought very hard. You’ve gotten very far in your life and I truly cannot thank you enough for your service. But the fight can be over for you. No one can fault you for taking your rest. You’ve certainly earned it...”

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

abyssalarchmage:

The little hybrid maintained his PUFFED-UP posture, striking black-and-white wings flared to their full (not exactly MASSIVE) span of nearly seven feet. Glittering sky-blue eyes followed the strange man with a laser focus that seemed out of place in the gaze of a child – for a child, chronologically speaking, Azriel was not. Naive though he was, this was due to lack of exposure rather than a lack of age. He was approaching his one hundred and seventy-fourth year, and while most of that had been spent under one watchful eye or another, he had still acquired enough knowledge of the mortal plane to be EXCEPTIONALLY wary. 

And whatever the man was, he was decidedly not human. Humans, to Azriel, were amusing, at best – they had no magic, no surprising supernatural or disgusting abilities. They were about as entertaining as watching grass grow. But this stranger, while he looked human, was most certainly MUCH MORE THREATENING.

Mustering up all the courage he could, the creature stood his ground and looked the other directly in the eyes. 

“You first.”

Death simply smiled softly, crouching to better meet the young man’s eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t have one. Or... rather people have given me a number of them. I’m not sure which one you’d know.” 

The young looking man was certainly doing his best to maintain his threatening posture, clearly spooked by the mere presence of another creature. Poor thing. But his time wasn’t anywhere near to finished. He simply happened to stumble upon the entity that was Death.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt anyone.” He’d already collected the soul he needed. No more here were to die. But... something about the young man intrigued him. “I certainly wouldn’t attempt anything with you present.” 

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

I need more friends. Please, if you’d like to get to know me or just plot on a better platform, I’d be more than happy to be friends on Discord.

[notmakinghousecalls-blog]

Death Wish List

An RP Wishlist for Death

- Scolding a Winchester could be very fun for Death, haha.

- Death somehow dropped from his position, left as a mortal human, trying to figure his new existence.

- Not knowing he’s Death, someone watches him collect souls, thinking him to be an a serial killer.

- Someone attempting to kill Death

- Someone asking to spend a day with Death before they die. Sappy “Live Like You’re Dying” shenanigans happen.

- Bureaucracy of the Afterlife shenanigans

- Final Hour discussions from hopeless folks with Death.

I will probably add more as they come, but these are the ones I’ve been thinking about.