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rules // about "the postman" // delivered by bread

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✉ RULES ; ✉ ABOUT

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( LUCA )

            Your careful with undoing your own braces at your leg. After all, they were the only pair you could have. Best to not let them get so damaged, even if you’re practically running for your life around who knows where. Sometimes it would be strange cities, others seemingly abandoned factories…

               A loud WINCE escapes you as the bloody bandage peels off of your skin and from the open wound. Did it always look that bad? You could hardly notice when you were taken down a number of times during your match. Gripping your thigh, digging your fingers right in to distract, you look anywhere but at the wound as Victor redresses it. There was even a shift in your seating as the discomfort started to get to you. You could only really relax ( more like settle down from the pain ) once Victor was finished and Wick had joined your side. 

            What was he doing…? As you watch the other make small tugs on his own shirt, you tried to parrot his moves to try and understand. At first it seemed like a mindless repeat, with a slight pained expression as each movement felt sore. Pausing at your shirt half lifted up, DISCOLORATION of your skin peek out from underneath, along with bandages covering nearly your entire torso. 

“…Ah.”

It finally clicks. You lower your shirt and make a small wave of your hand to dismiss the idea. 

“It’s just bruised…” You’ve felt worse, unfortunately. “I think my leg’s the only thing that’s bleeding.” 

             Unless Victor had magical healing abilities that could heal likely cracked ribs, you would have to make due with the treatment you already had. Fingers gently scratch against Wick’s fur. Nor did you want to concern the other with SCARS littering your back. You were no war hero like some of the others, nor could you exactly explain how they got there. You slowly feel at your back for any wetness. When nothing quite stained your fingers any shade of crimson, you give a pained smile to the other. You’re suffering, but at least no blood would leak out of your body.

“…”

            Why did you feel so awkward to hide this from him? Perhaps because you already know that he struggles with trust as it is. Though you never LIED, you were hiding something from underneath the striped fabric. 

            “My back’ll look uglier than it actually is.” They don’t really hurt there anymore. “Are those clothes for me?” Choosing to change the topic a bit, you wonder if they’ll fit. Honestly, you would rather wear clothes bigger than you… for the sake of not struggling to slip on something comfortable.

          victor  shows  only  the  barest  hint  of  frustration  at  luca’s  refusal  to  his  silent  request.  if  he  was  refusing  it,  then  there  certainly  must  be  something genuinely  wrong  that  he  was  hiding,  right?  but  there  was  no  use  in  pressing  it. the  POSTMAN  could  only  do  so  much  like  this,  he  was  no  certified  medic.  he  was  just  doing  the  best  he  could  with  what  he  had...  &  if  that  meant  he  had  to  let  luca  rest  &  wait  for  the  manor’s  strange  powers  to  do  it’s  thing,  he  reluctantly  would  let  just  that  happen.      he  nods  softly  when  questioned,  making  another  vague  motion  towards  luca’s  shirt  &  back  at  the  clothes  on  the  side  of  the  chair.  regardless  of  if  luca  didn’t  want  to  undress  in  hopes  of  hiding  something  from  victor,  he  would  have  to  if  he  was  going  to  change.

           then  again,  victor  had  his  own  discomforts  with  undressing  around  others.  letting  out  a  soft  sigh  he  rises,  wick’s  head  lifting  to  follow  his  movement.  he’d  grown  tired  of  forcing  the  other  to  play  a  guessing  game,  preferring  he  simply  fetch  his  notepad  so  he  could  communicate  a  little bit  easier  with  the  PRISONER.      a  few  seconds  of  silently  scribbling  out  his  thoughts  on  paper  &  it  is  then  turned  to  luca;  he  considered  letting  him  hold  it,  but  he  didn’t  want  him  moving  more  than  already  needed...  it  was  easy  to  spot  the  restraint  in  luca’s  voice  &  expression,  so  he  would  do  his  best  to  ease  all  the  discomfort  he  possibly  could  until  things  were  resolved.

          they  are,  yes.           i  can  step  out  of  the  room  for  you,  if  you  would  like?           if  you  are  not  comfortable  with  me  being  here  as  you  change.  i  only  wish  to  help  so  you  do  not  move  around  too  much  and  risk  furthering  your  injuries.

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          i WILL be coming to answer things soon on here i have just been 1) obsessed with trying to get the mutation skin for luchi 2) doing stuff in an idv rp server and 3) am a fool      ilyall and im hoping those of you who play idv get what you want this season :3c

[lovemanifesto-deactivated202103]

You’re right. Maybe it’s just ‘a day from hell’ as you call them. I could write an essay on days from hell, on feeling alone.

[starllex]

when something bad happens to someone you dont like and you have to pretend you’re sad but on the inside you’re like 

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misc angst // not accepting // @bttnnghtmr​

" it wasn’t your fault. " (( from eli ))

          what a joke. what a blatant & empty lie being spat right in his face, rubbing salt in his wounds in the form of reminding him of his mistakes. he knew very well it was his fault, legs not carrying him fast enough to rescue the SEER, having fucked up saving the rescue when they had first been downed too, it all just piled up back on victor’s shoulders. his mistakes, where he was lacking, his inability to be any form of help to the others.      it takes all of his strength to bite back the grimace threatening to break out across his features, reveal how badly he hated hearing eli try to insist victor wasn’t at fault here. there’s no need trying to save face, he’s certain the rest of the team agreed with him. so why would eli be so determined to usher away the POSTMAN’S permanent doubts & self-hatred if he was alone in believing his worth? just stop... just leave it be... fingers deftly tuck back a few loose strands of blond hair behind his ear, doing whatever he can to focus on anything but the angry, embarrassed heat on his face.

          there’s no energy to fight back, he’s too worn & disappointed in himself. so he simply offers that empty & unreadable smile of his, giving a gentle nod as if he were in understanding of eli’s insisting. it was half-assed, of course he wouldn’t just suddenly change his mind all because of one sentence of reassurance. but he didn’t want more. he just wanted to be alone.

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capacitances​:

@sewshut​ // 17. feeling lonely (send me a number to find my muse…)

This emotion was not foreign to Luca. The inventor had pushed through it time and time again - but that didn’t make it ache any less.

In these times, vague flashes of moments before it all came crumbling down would come back to him, mere suggestions of what his life must have been like. They never lingered for long, their impressions dreamy and near-indecipherable; he couldn’t possibly hope to connect the dots, and had long since given up trying. Thinking about it too hard made his head ache.

Now, though, he understood that this must have followed him through his life. Such was the fate of a brilliant mind, wasn’t it…? That familiar sensation of staring out the window and longing for a bit of companionship nagged at him. Still, no matter how much he desired it, he had convinced himself he wasn’t deserving of such pleasantries. Here, he fidgeted with the contraption in his hands (having little purpose except keeping his hands occupied) as he lounged back in the manor’s dining room and looked past the glass at the scenery outdoors. The sound of footsteps dragged him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see… who was this again? Luca bit back a grimace as he tried to recall the postman’s name. (Did he ever know?)

“It’s… you!” He immediately wanted to kick himself for giving such an awkward greeting, but pushed on. “What brings you here at this hour?”

          victor had slowly become aware of a common theme within the manor, one that he observed many others experiencing. one that he himself had begun to feel, even with wick at his side. loneliness wasn’t foreign to him at all! but he was more familiar with the opposite, often feeling too smothered by the company of others, wishing to be left to his own thoughts.       lately he had started growing restless, succumbing to the urge to wander the halls of the large manor, eyes lingering on any fellow survivor they met along the way. he’d never wanted any sort of conversation with them, more just to... remind himself he’s not alone? when did that matter, he’d always preferred it that way, just him & wick, no need for anyone else... what a sad thing. before the POSTMAN realizes it, his feet have brought him through the foyer & his hand eases open the door to the dining hall, peering in with the slightest bit of hope he’d see someone else.

          & he did, gaze falling to the brunet seated near the window, tinkering with some unknown object in his hands. momentary relief; victor would not linger, planning on simply nodding his hello & exiting as quickly as he had entered. but then he’s acknowledged, the clear pause between only two words making him assume the “PRISONER” ( luca basla; he made sure to memorize the names of those he were to deliver things to ) had never learned his name. he’s only a bit pleased with that thought, proved to him that his attempts at isolation were successful for the most part.      ‘ victor. ’ hand spells out his name, testing the waters at first to see if luca understood before he retrieves his note pad, one step turning to two until he’s arrived at the edge of the table with pen still in hand. the paper is offered to the inventor, victor’s smile returning to its rightful place upon his lips.      it’s victor. i had been exploring the manor, i was not aware you were here!      i can leave you be if you would prefer, i would not want to bother you while you worked.

[lethalcrashed]

hello again! it’s toast, and i’ve made another identity v blog! this one happens to star everyone’s favorite reptilian, luchino! if you’d like to interact, all you’ve got to do is like or reblog this post. thank you!! 🦎

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          GUYS MY ASKBOX IS LIKE FULL OF ANGST. I HAVE LIKE 3 FLUFFY THINGS BUT ALL THE OLDER STUFF I GOTTA ANSWER FIRST IS A N G ST!!! HELP!!!!!! 70% IS ANGST!!!! YALL MAKE MY LIFE MISERABLE /j

[capacitances--moved]

—— Though my body may be shackled, new ideas and creations are ever free.

I will never be your prisoner.

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           also since it was brought to my attention i wanna mention this: i have a lot of trouble interacting with new people sometimes. the best you’ll get out of me is an ask before i slink back to my corner and watch from afar. i usually end up interacting with the same few people just because i’ve grown close to them already and feel comfortable around them, but never want to come off like im exclusive of new people trying to interact with me! you’ll just need to be patient with me, or reach out to me :’>      this community has been a lot easier on me than a lot of my other ones, and while i still get overwhelmed and shut myself off from my friends ive made here, im trying to get better at interacting with those ive yet to talk to!! blows kiss

          tl;dr: if you’re new here and feel left out ( or have been hesitant to approach me ), don’t hesitate to throw some asks to any of my blogs! (here, @violnst​, and @campblls!) or simply throw me a meme in dms to start a conversation. ilyall i am just a fool

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post-trauma starters // accepting // @bttnnghtmr​

“it’s been a tough few days. how are you holding up?” (( from william ))

          god, it really had been tough. while it had been rare for someone to get three invitations in a row ( let alone TWO ), victor had the displeasure to be one of the few who did, body physically ready for another match while his mind still lagged behind, tired & unsettled from the previous pain & trauma he had been put through. the first match wasn’t so bad, it seemed like the hunter wasn’t as interested today as they usually were, leaving the survivors to their decoding. but the second, victor had cost the team a draw, tired mind unable to stop his legs as he crashed right into the geisha on his way to the exit gate, getting swiftly downed & chaired.      that shame rode with him all the way into the next day, ghost aches still bothering his limbs despite the actual pain having been healed. the third match went just as badly, though victor had little interaction with his teammates; to get caught in a cobweb & be rendered unable to rescue anyone, desperately stumbling to the dungeon he held constant sight of after tearing the webbing off of himself, it all felt like some weird sort of punishment for a sin he forgot he committed. 

          he didn’t want to look will in the eye when he approached, wringing his hands together & keeping his gaze lowered. the FORWARD had been the final one to get sent off that match, & even if he had notified victor not to rescue him, to get out of there, it sent a hot rush of embarrassment & self-disgust straight to victor’s face, reddening his cheeks. swallowing back the thick lump in his throat, the shorter man shrugs his shoulders quickly, really not wishing for this conversation to continue.       but will had always been kind to him, rescuing him when victor had lost hope, even spending time alone with him, if only to see wick. while he wasn’t sure he’d say he TRUSTED him, he certainly liked his company. one hand clenches into a fist, trying to formulate a proper answer, but he can’t think of one without feeling as though he’ll cry whether he writes it or signs it or anything. so he instead simply lifts his hand, thumb extended from his fist as he turns it upside down, the thumbs-down gesture paired with a somewhat strained smile.

          not so good.

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nonverbal memes // accepting // @pasttorn​

[ nap ] w/ eli tho : >​

          neither of them had a match that evening, nothing to distract one from the other, just the two of them able to relax & unwind before whenever their next invitation arrived. it was moments like these that victor could somewhat forget the many troubles always hanging overhead, if only for a moment. forget the worries of the past & the next days, just focus on the weight of eli reading while resting against his side as he kept himself occupied admiring a flowers petals.      fingertips lightly trace the intricate designs that made up the petals, the comforting texture against dulled senses has him smiling to himself. he’s glad eli doesn’t press for many conversations if the two didn’t have to; being alone together in silence was good enough for him. but when they did talk... his smile widens a bit more, feeling an embarrassing surge of such genuine & unrestrained LOVE fill his chest, heart beating as if it were the wings of a hummingbird, quick & steady. lips part from their smile, the POSTMAN tilting his head as he planned to gently remind eli of his love for him, a quick but genuine ‘ i love you, my moon ’ to not fully distract him from his book.

          that had been the plan, yet when he looks over to the other, he realizes that the SEER is no longer reading, book resting in his lap & hands folded over each other in a relaxed positioning. victor’s cheek nestles against that short brown hair of his, relishing in the strangely trusting action, having eli so comfortable with him that he was able to fall asleep in his presence. the thought only makes victor’s face hurt from how big he smiled, needing to resist the urge to just flat out hug his perfect lover, squeezing him close & protecting him from the rest of the world.      he’d make sure to protect him.

          he doesn’t hug him though, it’d be too risky & probably wake him up in the process. so instead, victor carefully takes one of eli’s hands within his own & places a kiss to the crown of his head, deciding that, perhaps, the two of them deserved a little rest. the faint warmth of the sun above them was pleasantly shrouded by the shade they sat beneath, cozy enough that victor deemed it okay to close his eyes as well, wondering if he too would fall asleep, resting against the one he loved.

[rp-ask-memes-deactivated2026012]

-- GENTLE REMINDER | PSA

there are days where you just can’t write properly. you have the muse and motivation, but the words won’t come out the way you want them to, and that’s OKAY. it happens with every writer, every roleplayer. you do not have to feel bad for having off writing days. if you don’t want to work on replies but work on your blog, it’s fine. don’t worry about it. everyone gets these days, and it’s okay.

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misc angst // not accepting // @bttnnghtmr​

" you can’t die. i won’t let you. " (( from William uwu ))

          it must hurt... spending so much time trying to rescue someone, only to be unable to do anything more for them than cradle their body close to yours as they bleed out. if only victor had been stronger, he wouldn’t have put this burden on the FORWARD, fading strength being used to grip at his arm, his shoulder, anywhere he can, trying to offer some sort of comfort while he died.       words left unspoken, unable to be whispered through the blood that burned on his tongue, forcing him into silence for the remaining moments he had with william... i’m sorry, you should have just left me behind. i can’t imagine how bad this hurts you, to be unable to save me... i-i’m so sorry, will-- the POSTMAN’s eyes are glazed over, expression somewhat serene despite the blood splattered on his cheek, staining the entire left side of his uniform a deep crimson. if he’d just managed to dodge that final hook, just collapsed to his knees & ran once it lodged itself into the chair instead, then he’d have been able to make it... but he hadn’t, & there was no changing that.

          hook buried deep within his side, victor already accepted he wouldn’t make it out of the match, the agony of his wound being torn open when he was yanked back so harshly enough to make his legs give out, hands clutched over the section of his side that had been ripped out-- he’d have been a goner right there if it wasn’t for the body coming between him & the downswing, taking the hit before hoisting victor back to his feet & rushing the two out the exit gate.      really, if he’d just lasted a few seconds longer... victor hadn’t even processed he’d collapsed the moment the exit gate closed behind them to insure their escape, fading back into consciousness to strong hands trying to shake him to his senses, all while still somewhat mindful of the wound he would inevitably bleed out from. fuck... william’s talking to him, shouting something, but it’s muffled & distant, as if in another room over despite victor’s blurry vision seeing him mere inches away from his face. tears blur it further when he feels that all too familiar warmth melt into his very bones, drinking away the last bits of strength he had.

          “ ‘m.... s--sorry... ” fingers barely touch over the FORWARD’S jaw, trying so hard to give him a final reassuring smile; it feels all wrong, whatever control he had over his body before no longer connected to his brain, fading out with his own life. he’d see him soon. death was never truly the end of this sick, twisted cycle. but... it always, always hurt, failing those who did everything for your safety.

[sewshut]

unprompted ask // always accepting! // @musemade​

victor I thought I said u were grounded why tf are u out of ur room when you’re supposed to be grounded >:/

          BUT MOOOOOOM

[sewshut]

( EMMA )

Eyes widened as she placed her hands in front of her mouth, soft gasp escaping them. Oh, every flower in this garden she knew the meaning of so if it was one he wanted to know about, she could gladly tell him, but seeing him stand in front of those gorgeous red chrysanthemums has her all but blushing.

Personally she had never received them and that’s precisely where her embarrassment comes from. She quickly scurried to where he stood, head tilted to the side as a bright smile formed on her lips. Oh, if it were someone in love she had to know! Love was such a beautiful thing, wasn’t it?

“Has someone you know been delivered these or perhaps you yourself?”

Hitting the nail on the head, she lacked any form of dancing around it, especially when she was so interested in the concept of love. There were those that were rather close in the manor, but if someone was sneaking away with these they had to know the meaning of them if they didn’t want her to know who it was.

          Given how quickly she reacted, & how she reacted exactly, Victor couldn’t help the light blush that crept its way across his freckled cheeks. The POSTMAN had assumptions of what the constant deliveries meant, perhaps someone’s special way of thanking him, but he never understood what any of the flowers meant specifically.      His hands felt sweaty, ringing his pen between his fingers as she immediately asked him of his relation to the flowers. He’d only received bouquets with the chrysanthemums rather recently, & occasionally one would be tucked into another bundle primarily made up of gardenia’s. Waving his hands to somewhat dispel Emma’s overeager curiosity aimed towards him, Victor flips to a blank page in his notepad and hurriedly writes out his answer.

          ‘ someone has been delivering me flowers lately. i don’t know who, but there have been a few different flowers that they’ve sent me. what do they mean? ’ Handing the notepad to her, he takes a moment to look at the other flowers in the garden around them, beginning to wonder if the manor’s library would give him luck in finding out the meanings, without needing interact with others.      Not that Emma was hard to be around, but more because he worried about the assumptions made during his questioning--