im like. not on tumblr at all anymore because of certain reasons but if you'd like to roleplay on discord, and we're mutuals, feel free to ask for my discord tag.
how to know if tumblr has been eating your asks: send yourself anywhere between 5-10 asks, ( anon or not ) but have each ask be nothing but an order in which you sent them.
i.e: the first ask says ‘1′, the second says ‘2′, etc etc.
i sent myself ten of these, both on anon and not. This was all i received back:
Tumblr is now eating asks along with notifications. We must be more interactive than ever if we want keep this form of entertainment we call the rpc. Go ahead and warn your friends or test this for yourselves.. This post is reblogable.
I did this because I’ve had problems with this before, and I’ve noticed that it doesn’t go through with single numbers (1,2,3, etc.), but it does with double digits (10,11,20,30,etc.) so be wary!
Meg dipped the cloth in the water again, squeezing it until the clear liquid was an odd shade of pink, only to wipe at the cut on Amanda's face. Oddly enough, the woman was one of the only other killers that she could resonate with somewhere inside. The other ones either didn't talk to her or made her chest hurt.
"Which one of the worms did this to you? I didn't expect anyone to be able to lift the mask off." Then again, the scrapper, David, she forced out from her mind, had pulled out one of the braids that were tucked away in her hood. Her hair still hurt when pulled.
The top of the blood pouring out of her tear ducts took on the same azure glow that her eyes had. Meg envied Amanda. Her blood could be wiped away. The trails on her cheeks never budged.
The warmth of the campfire was a comfort for Feng.
The past few trials had been pretty hard for her, she would always seem to get caught by the killers, and each death was just as painful as the last million. Of course, the number was quite an exaggeration but, the idea was still there. She needed to fix up her strategy, as much as she hated to admit that.
She was too stubborn to just ask anyone in the group of survivors, she usually keeps her distance away from them but, perhaps forming a bond with them could help her in the future. She had made friends before so, it wasn’t like she was socially awkward or anything. The way this realm worked and the trials that were played made her feel less likely to trust others, even if they were on her side.
Her mind yelled at her to just swallow her pride and talk to someone but, her body wouldn’t listen. She simply to continue to sit on the log, watching as the flames flickered in front of her eyes.
Beyond the edges of light to which the campfire reached, Meg had been lost in the forest with her jogs. They cleared her mind, helped her keep a part of herself that was always attempted to be ripped from her hands; no, outside of the trials, the former track star still found her runner's high when the paths would go on for however long she needed.
She still returned to the campfire after a while, never once breaking a sweat or having a hair out of place. It was odd for her, not coming back to what she had reluctantly called a home without sweat drenching her hairline. It was only endorphins that remained.
All of her spots were taken, survivors conversing with each other almost happily. Getting to talk was always nice. The redhead placed her hands on her trim hips, slowly strutting to the log that had the least people. It was just the gamer.
Léry's Memorial was one of the few realms that scared Meg. Even if the Entity could never replicate anything right, the institute always shook the athlete to her core. Too many of her days had been spent in white hallways, staring at hospital beds and sleeping in chairs; too many times had she heard monitors going crazy, or a code being called on the floor her mother would stay on and be scared half to death that it was her mother. It didn't matter to the redhead what the place had actually been. The aesthetics were simply too similair.
That trial couldn't have come at a worse time. She didn't even want to do anything. She already had half of her friends- though she couldn't use that label for them any more- against her, and a voice in her head that had been spitting vile insults about everyone. Including herself. Someone screamed, but Meg was unable to bring herself to care.
'Let them die,' the whisper hissed into her ear, though no one was there. It was broken, and she briefly wondered if for once, the monitors that only played screams had actual words along with them. 'It feels good to leave them, doesn't it?'
Meg put her head in her hands, sliding down the wall beneath a window and resisting the urge to scream back at it. She didn't even want to move. The heartbeat rising in her ears didn't even cause her to try to hide.
“Hng,” Meg stifled back a groan, the momentum of the hit pushing her forward. She was quick to get up and run, even if she stumbled for a second first. Something in the bottom of her stomach dropped, which only seemed to fuel her running as she stretched her legs out. She had to make the meters stretch.
“Get off my back, you fuck!” The redhead spat-- no, more like she screamed it. Whether it was out of frustration or pain, Meg didn’t know. It was all blending together as she reached out for a pallet in front of her. She barely had time to pull it down and scoot over it before she heard metal embedding into wood. Her knees shook. That could have been her again.
A bead of sweat rolled down her temple and onto her cheek. She pushed herself to run again.
Benedict Baker left behind journals saying that hope is lost through the soul when a survivor is given up for sacrifice; but what about when your friends turn on you and go back on everything they’ve ever said?
ao3 link | ff.net link | prev. chapter.
chapter 2: everyone i know's a kid.
Feet angrily paced around two logs, connected to a pair of sturdy legs, which would have been bouncing were it not for the owner standing up. Meg Thomas was circling the campfire, never getting too hot or burned, courtesy of the Entity. None of it made sense.
“Hey, Meg, come sit down, yeah?” The redhead barely heard Claudette as she
looked back, finding the woman patting the space on the old tree trunk lazily. Meg begrudgingly took a seat and slumped her back.
Claudette’s chocolate irises scanned her friend with worry, the bridge of her nose wrinkling up as she held her words back. Many hard lessons had taught that Meg would only talk when she wanted to do it. Instead, she raised a hand again, not caring about a gash on the back of her arm that bled the salmon shirt ruby. It would heal with sleep. The second Meg felt the woman’s empathetic touch on her shoulder, the athlete sighed and placed her chin in her hands.
“Claudette, we're good friends, right?”
“I'd like to think so, yes,” was the other’s quiet reply.
“And that means I can tell you something that's bothering me? Not about you, but something I need to get off of my chest.” Those words caused the botanist to smile.
“Of course, Meg.”
Meg drew her shoulders away and turned towards Claudette, a finger fiddling with the sleeve on her right arm. “It's the Trapper. This is going to sound extremely odd and perhaps a bit unthankful, but he- it doesn't… chase me anymore. I break hi- its traps with Jake, and it's only Jake. I save someone, there's no indication that they were ever focused down in the first place.”
Claudette hummed as she looked towards the fire, flames reflected in her glasses.
“Don't be so worried. Laurie has been in our trials a lot more. She's always the obsession, so she gets the majority of attention.” The botanist lowered her voice to a hush, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “I wouldn't be surprised if every killer was so tied up with her because of what she does for us. And I heard Nea saying that she enjoyed it.”
Meg snorted, a wave of disgust settling in her stomach. They were acting like they were still in highschool. Gossiping about a girl who always saved their asses.
“Laurie isn't like that. She's nice. Go ask her if you're really unsure. You two shouldn't be talking like that about other survivors. We're in this together. Even if we don't like someone,” she flatly stated, looking over to Dwight as he laid down on his jacket.
“Okay, but really, I'm sure you'll get your ‘fun’ chases soon enough.” Claudette quoted the air as Meg stood up, brows knitted together as she looked to the blonde who was fiddling with a rock on the other side of the fire.
“I'm sure. Thanks for the talk, Claudette,” Meg thanked her with a smile. Thanks for really reassuring me, she thought to herself, sliding down to the other end of the log that Laurie was on.
“Laurie,” Meg prompted, drawing her attention. That was something Meg had noticed about the Strode girl immediately. She was always so attentive; reading the situation.
“If you ever need some distraction in the trials, someone to run for you, you just scream. Or let me know now.” Panic rose in Meg’s throat as Laurie laughed lightly at her, tucking a sharpened rock onto her pocket. Had she said something wrong? Something to be made fun of?
“That's sweet, Meg. I've got it. I always have ways to escape.” Yet something in Laurie’s tone seemed off. A loud laugh from Nea made Meg’s head turn, Claudette smiling lightly with what seemed like disbelief.
A sigh quickly left Meg’s lips. Even after she had said something. Some survivors just didn't let their situation change their ways.
“Well, just in case. Scream and I'll run to you if I can.” Meg stood and brushed the dirt off of the back of her running pants, finding a place by an old trash can to lay her old jacket down on.
The ginger figured it would be better to get some sleep and let her wounds heal up before the next trial rather than ruminate over her talk with Claudette.
“I’m not brave,” Meg laughed quietly, a single brow furrowing down closer to her nose. No. She just had the will to live. “You’re useful doing just that. I promise you that. You help the others and they’ll help you in return. None of us will ever get out if we don’t work together... If we don’t fight against these excuses for beings. I don’t think even half of them are human.” The girl snorted, tensing up when she heard a revving off in the background.
“You’ll learn quickly. Or you’ll be sacrificed. So there’s that.”
Nimble fingers connected a few more wires together, a light above them flickering on. Meg put on her brave face and kept going. “Now, you hear that chainsaw? Faint. But there. We complete this and hide somewhere we can’t get caught. Somewhere away from this generator. But don’t go too far, I’ll come and get you.” Her gaze was cast down for a moment.
“I didn’t ever want to be alone when I was put in my first few trials.”
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