#gwanzhu

[unrclypirxte]

@gwanzhu - Wanted a Starter!

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Hoyt leaned against the railing of Pagan's office, eyes slowly examining every little bit of detail the view had to offer; he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a Cuban, wasting no time in igniting the end and enjoying the taste. He flicked ash from the end, watching it spiral down as a few unfamiliar birds came cawing by. He smiled.

Somehow this felt... off. Every little interaction with Hoyt, even something as innocent as a ' catch up ' ( primarily wanting to know if Beth was being okay, and if she needed to go to make their deal remain STEADY ) seemed cloaked in danger.

The Tyrant made no effort to face Pagan as the KING finally entered the room, instead making a broad gesture to the crisp air outside. A moment of silence before he drew in a breath.

"Does every day start this beautiful?"

[cyberpawn]

🧠🧠🧠 gimme three

Send a 🧠 (or just say 'Brain!'), to meet a character that's been cookin' in my brain

Barachiel - Archangel of Blessings - Masquerading as a player on the church sponsored beer league team the Holy Hitters.

In Ghost's video for Jesus He Knows Me, we get to watch the sinful priest named Jim DeFroque be on the receiving end of blessings from a local hockey team called the Holy Hitters. Ever since I first watched that video, I had the hc that the hockey team was actually angels as a comparison to how Ghost's band is made of demonic Ghouls. I, for one, love a good jock vs goth moment, and the idea of demonic goths vs some angelic jocks sounded fun to me! Barachiel can play either as a Wing or as a Defenseman and he's got rose petals and roses tattooed all over his body! He's got an ipod full of worship songs and does in fact listen to it whenever he's working out. Barachiel got sent down to earth in order to dispense some blessings to a small town and to keep them from falling into satanic influences (i.e, Ghost's music). He's trusting to a fault, but incredibly loyal.

Jasmine "Jazz" Gray - Student - Maker of Wishes That Backfire

On Jasmine's 17th birthday, she finally got to have a party with all of her (few) friends. Pizzas ordered, popcorn popped, they all stayed up past midnight playing their latest campaign in Dungeons & Dragons, herself at the helm as the DM. Ever the wanderer, Jasmine snuck out of the basement where everyone was camped out that night, made her way out to the back deck and made a wish on the last cupcake left from the party. A lone candle was stuck on top, she lit it with a match, and blew it out, making a wish that her world was more like the games she played with her friends. And it came true. In the same instance as her wish was made, some portal from a fantastical realm opened and the veil between the real world and fantasy became that much thinner.

Now, Jasmine's gotta finish up her junior year and slay monsters in the real world, all without getting caught by her parents or law enforcement. This is gonna make the road to graduation bumpier, but Jazz's got the wits to make it through this monster of the week misfortune!

In the future, as an adult, Jasmine is a writer and, perhaps, may still be dealing with the monsters she thinks she unleashed onto the world. And to make matters worse? The words and stories she's writing are beginning to manifest into reality.

Moreau - Scientist - Guy Who's Normal About Flesh

Meant to exist in more cyberpunk-y/grimy worlds, Moreau is a guy who loves challenging the ideas of what is human, what is mortal, what is beast, what is flesh, what can be mended and what can be reshaped. Cyberpunk spaces where you're questioning what makes people human, when people are willing to convert their entire bodies into metal, Moreau is the other direction of that. He's the guy recreating limbs out of a few spare stem cells he got off of the black market. In superhero universe, he wants to capture metahumans/superpowered individuals in order to catalogue their entire genetic sequence and rebuild genomes like it's nothing.

[bellytochin]

@gwanzhu

He sits at that table, the fingers of one hand drumming along the surface while the other holds his mother's ashes tight to his chest, scared that they would be taken from him again. He wasn't always the best son, he fell in with the wrong crowd at times, but Ajay would always love his mother, regardless of how distance the two of them grew apart for awhile.

Now back in Kyrat, listening to his mother's final words Take me back to Lakshmana, he was nervous. He'd been in the presence of the King of Kyrat, listening to the screams of Darpan down in the basement below where one of Pagan's lackeys took him. He could leave, now that he thought about it. He could flee down those stairs and try to escape. since no one was here to stop him. But how far would he really get without help? Was there anyone that would risk themselves for him?

He doubt that.

So there at the table Ajay sat, wrinkling his nose at the centerpiece of monkey heads, rifling through papers on the table and squinting at the bills depicting Pagan's face. It was a long fifteen minutes, and Ajay wasn't a very patient person. But he knew when he was beat. He might as well wait around. This Pagan might be able to help him anyways.

[resistancesought]

@gwanzhu said : ❛  i love it when you put your hands on me.  ❜ ishwari......................

beaming, ishwari looked down at pagan, her hair falling into her face as her fingers spread wide across his chest. he looked so handsome down here, pressed into the bed where she'd pushed him down -- she liked how he looked when he looked up at her. her hands smoothed across his chest, leaving skin bare as she unbuttoned his shirt. ishwari could hardly get enough of him, teasing touches from his chest down to his hips. " hm. that's quite the coincidence. . . " the so-called goddess purred, leaning down to press a kiss to pagan's ear, " 'cause i can't get enough of touching you. "

nsfw starters / accepting !!

[nefariuus]

@gwanzhu sent: i don't actually think you know what you're doing.

Jin stifled a laugh. He didn't want to come off as arrogant or flippant. Appearances could be deceiving, that was true, but it seemed to him that Pagan had vastly underestimated him.

He picked the sleek black pistol up off table and turned it over in his hands. Slowly, he rubbed the pad of his thumb against the engraved manufacturer's logo on the side. It wasn't loaded, and the magazines sat on the table untouched. The targets were set up by the edge of the cliff, sticking up flat against the blue Kyrati sky.

It took mere seconds for Jin to click the magazine into place, pull and release the slide, and engage the safety. Arms straight, gun forward, he fired all 10 rounds into the shadow black silhouette on the target sheet. Every shot hit the paper though a few strayed off target near the edges. The shots that hit their mark clustered in the upper chest and head of his two dimensional enemy.

The gun was unloaded, and the now empty magazine hit the dirt. The gun was placed slowly back on the table, pointed towards the cliff's edge.

"I know this is a Beretta, and I know it's probably in the 92 series. It looks like it was cleaned recently. And I know enough to do that." Jin slid the weapon towards Pagan and smiled.

"Did you want to try?"

[aulephant]

❛ I hear he’s a tyrant. ❜ because pagan talking abt himself is cool, for sabal

God Gossip Starters

Sabal's heard about the new "King". Sabal's heard Mohan's speeches, told the stories of Pagan taking the life of a child to become king, spoke on how Pagan betrayed all of Kyrat for a simple glimpse of power. Sabal's listened to it all and he's trusted it all. He was a child, after all. He was nine years old when Mohan returned home with few survivors and a heart twisted by betrayal and anguish. There was nothing to be learned from that day except for the fact Pagan Min was their enemy.

The enemy grew into a tyrant. The enemy became a monster. They enemy was committing cultural genocide and Sabal was only eleven years old as he watched the world twist under Pagan's grasp. There was no escape from his grasp, not even in the forests of Kyrat. Not even on worn out paths. A Royal Guard's jeep passed through the path Sabal was walking on, and he was frozen in fear to see The Tyrant stand before him. Talking....about himself?

Sabal was a child. He was a child and he was standing before Pagan and his armed guards. He was a goner.

"He's a m-mad tyrant." Stuttered the boy, his hair tied back in a ponytail, the loose strands sticking to his forehead. "And he's standing in front of me."

[screenviolense]

' i realized something today. ' they had the entire diner to themselves, seeing as his guards were taking their food outside while she refilled his coffee, the smell rising in the air. ' i don't think i've ever seen you during the day. you could be a vampire and i wouldn't even know. '

@gwanzhu

[prvtocol]

@gwanzhu ( Pagan Min ) : ❝ your secret’s safe with me. ❞ bri and pagan realness | meme tag ( always accepting!! )

The businesswoman loiters in the vicinity of the just exited helicopter; the swirl of the blades above her dwindling to a halt. Phone is pressed to her ear; her sister is on the other line. “Are you serious? But it’s a month out.” Exasperated she whines; the best-laid plans suddenly canceled. “Well, I suppose we can try The Peninsula. Or the British Club. Listen, I’m off to Rook after this and you know my coverage there, so you’re going to have to be the point person here. Can you do that? ... Alright. I appreciate it sis.” With her back turned, she doesn’t realize her esteemed client is there to greet her.

“Oh goodness. Apologies.” The hand briefly covering her mouth slowly drops to cover her heart that's hastily beating. “Venue issues,” head shakes with residual frustration before realizing a need for a fuller explanation. “My sister and I are planning a surprise birthday party for our father next month. You’re invited, of course, but,” she presses an index finger to her lips in a cheeky gesture to keep quiet. 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Min is gracious enough to respond.

Closed-mouth smile deepens and she’s caught staring a second too long at the king before snapping out of it. “Oh, where is my decorum?” Face is notably flushed, but her demeanor quickly sobers. “Your majesty,” her chin dips and she unfolds into a perfect little curtsy. “My father sends his hello’s and a bottle of your favorite spirit, of course.” Of which is in a fancy wooden lacquer box soon to be gifted. “I do hope you've been well.”