Do you wanna play? Jinx loves to play. So how about it? *selective Independent canon-divergent Arcane RP (featuring Silco and Ekko) from Arcane* loved by Bli
AN INDEPENDENT, SELECTIVE CANON DIVERGENT MULTIMUSE FROM ARCANE BLOG WRITTEN AND CHERISHED BY BLI. ( SILCO, VI, JINX, VANDER AND EKKO)
“Betrayal, that pain that feels like it’ll eat you from the inside out, can either break you or forge you into something greater.”
" I'm Not Weak. And I'm Gonna Show Him. Oh, I'm Gonna Show Him. You'll See."
" I Thought, Maybe You Could Love Me Like You Used To, Even Though I'm Different. But You Changed Too, So, Here's To The New Us. "
I write typically longer replies, novelia style or multi Paras. I don't ask that my length be done in return, however I do ask that you respond with at least a paragraph or two. Enough to give me something to work with. The main exceptions are crack related scenarios.
If you've come expecting super fast replies from me, you've come to the wrong place. I'm slower rper and sometimes it can take me a bit. You can send a reminder but please don't guilt trip over speed.
I don't vague post, and I have no interest in getting in drama of any sort. If I see you vague post about me, even I will more than likely hard block. RP is about fun, not negativity.
Along that vein, a key important thing is communication. When there is a lack of it it causes a lot of stress for me, especially if we are actively working together in detail. If you aren't feeling it? Tell me. If you don't want to work with me, tell me and let it be. It's better to be honest, just like I like to be. If you ghost me without any form of communication for a long extended period, I'll consider things dropped.
Plotting. In writing I prefer to plot, even a little, over just random asks. However, I am not opposed to this. Sometimes asks are perfect Ice breakers, or random starters. I will note that RP is a mutual effort however, so if you try to force a plot without compromise its a deal breaker.
I am mutual only for the most part, sometimes I don't follow back right away either. But I'll eventually get there if interested.
Thread priority tends to go with whatever my muses are feeling.
I will work with OC's, however, I have been awkward in the past due to experiences.
I do DM via Tumblr, however, that is open to people I follow due to various reasons. But you can always reach out if we are mutuals or via ask. Discord is told whenever I'm comfortable.
No god modding. And no trying to offer input on my muses unless I ask for it.
I am a huge shipping person, and open to most. Just let me know your ideas and we can see. No forced ships and certainly making it our first thing without plotting.
Anyone under the age of 20, very unlikely to interact as I am in my 30's.
a matter of wrong time, wrong place. she'd overheard the conversation between the enforcers and silco regarding benzo. of course she didn't agree with them. she felt the same anger as silco had; the same concern for their friend. in this moment, she was grateful that connol had been with the children while she bore witness to silco's sudden change. the warmth and cordiality in his eyes had snuffed out, replaced with something colder.
dangerous, even.
brows furrow and felicia is careful to approach. she doesn't disagree. the enforcer's have been making things more difficult for them. he opens up and she allows him that moment to release his frustration. eventually their eyes meet and she sees within them the object of her concern: his mind is made up.
❝ i agree with you ... they won't change. they may never change. so no, you're not wrong, silco. ❞ a moment passes and she sighs, reaching her fingertips up high to pinch at the bridge of her nose. ❝ but whatever is is you're thinking, it's not the way to go about things. we're older now ... there's more at risk. ❞ like her daughters.
Cracks split the carefully crafted mask Silco had work so hard to make. Of course it would be Felicia who bore witness to that. Ever the observant companion, in which there wasn’t much he could hide now. Unlike her he didn’t have children who depended on him.
If anything, the reminder those precious children she held dear only served to motivate him more. “But that’s just it isn’t? If we don’t do something now, who’s to say your daughters won’t have it worse than we do?”
In truth there was no need well thought out plan. Only the desire to what needed to be done.
“The enforcers won’t respond to peace, you know that as well as I do. They’ll lock Benzo away in Stillwater and will make us suffer even more. Do you truly think that will be a better world for Powder and Violet?”
It’s a hard thing for Vander because he’s still attracted to Silco. He’s never given up. But at this current time most of the trust and loyalty have to be built back up on both their ends.
He doesn’t know exactly when it became a habit. It’s barely been a year since Vander’d answered their advertisement in the paper: ‘paid blood donations for scientific research’. Within the lifespan of a vampire, it’s hardly a blink of an eye, even to someone with only a century under his belt as Silco does. But visiting the human’s newly-purchased bar has become a venture at least one evening a week—provided his maker doesn’t need anything.
So Silco pushes his way past the old oak doors (smooth on regularly-greased hinges) and makes his way through mostly-empty tables to find a familiar tall, broad barkeep.
It’s early in the week so the crowd’s been thin tonight and Vander won’t be far from closing. Pleasantries are through quickly and the vampire sits himself at the corner of the bar nursing his customary whiskey while he watches Vander clean the specks of glasses as they idly converse over recent events. Eventually, the bigger man cajoles the last few drunk patrons out the door and slides the deadbolts into place.
Vander always seems to know when Silco would prefer to discuss something in private. He’s oddly perceptive—for a human. So, when he asks what Silco’s thinking, the vampire sighs and downs the dregs lingering at the bottom of his glass.
“I have a favor to ask,” he confesses as he sets the glass back to the worn wooden bartop, “donations are becoming more difficult to come by now.” People are finding steady employment now that the last echoes of war are settling. They’re not desperate for a quick way to earn cash any more. And that’s causing the vampire and his maker to stretch their thirsts further. If they’d been part of the Covens, they’d have been cared for, but Corin has always been an outcast (and, thus, his vampire progeny too); his experiments on the wrong side of what’s considered ‘acceptable’.
“Medical advancements have fallen by the wayside to technological ones.”
Long, slender fingers spread out on well-worn grain and he meets those lovely sky-blue eyes. “I know you have your bar now but, if you were to start donating again, we could pay you double.” A subtle hint of crooked, chipped teeth as Silco’s lips part in a half smile. “You were always our best donor, after all.”
There was one thing that always brightened Vander’s week. Silco’s visits. It was always the same night and same time. He never questioned it, simply happy to be in the company of the man he’d already fallen head over heels for. It was a perfect time, too. If he wanted to be alone he would quickly escort the rest of the patrons out so they could be alone.
Tonight seemed to be a night that Silco needed that.
Something the other man had quite realized, though, was Vander’s natural perceptive nature that went beyond the physical aspects. Little things like body language or the look in one’s eyes was second nature to pick up on. What he knew to be true was far more complicated, something instinctual. A feeling he’d picked up with their initial meeting and discovered recently that finally put the final piece of puzzle together.
Still, for the moment he maintained a simple, charming smile. Silco would be none the wiser until Vander decided to reveal what he knew. Those donations were not for some experiment. They went to him. Tonight would be a confirmation.
“You know, it was never the money to kept me coming.” His hands worked diligently to clean the glasses. Patrons made it hard work to do so, making messes of property that had cost a pretty penny on top of the bars upkeep. “All you ever had to do was ask and I would be there.”
There was a hunger in Silco’s eyes. More intense than Vander had seen before. Without a word, Vander walked up to oak doors and turned the lock. Another perception; the value of privacy. It surely wasn’t common knowledge for a human to know the existence of vampires.
A thick glass was set on the bartop. “I have almost everything I need. A roof over my head, money to keep me afloat, a job that makes me happy.” As he spoke, Vander took a knife to his wrist. No sense of hesitation as blood poured into the glass. “The only thing missing is a certain man finally saying yes to being mine.”
A towel wrapped around his wrist, and a drink shoved forward. “Drink up.”
“You’re dripping blood on the carpet.”
“When I said scars are kinda sexy, I didn’t mean you should get one right away…”
“Press that against the wound, I’m going to get the med kit.”
“It’s bleeding quite badly.”
“Oh God, what happened to you?!”
“You’re covered in blood! Is it yours?”
“Your head looks pretty bad. I’m sure it’ll need stitches.”
“It’s going to hurt for a moment, but I’ll need to clean the wound.”
“I’m so sorry this happened to you. But you’re safe now.”
“That’s a pretty nasty bruise. Want some ice?”
“Does it still hurt?”
“I don’t think a band aid is gonna fix this…”
“Whoa, hey, stay with me! You’re as white as a ghost. Don’t pass out.”
“Damn, that must hurt. I’m sure there are some painkillers around here.”
“You have to be seen by a doctor. This isn’t going to heal on its own.”
“It looks broken. Can you move it at all?”
“Here, lean on me. I’ll support you.”
“I’m not going to leave you behind. If need be, I’ll carry you.”
“I’m going to pick you up now, okay? Just hold on to me.”
“Everything is going to be okay. Just hang in there.”
“I don’t feel so good.”
“It’s seeping through the bandages.”
“My head is throbbing. I think I have a concussion.”
“I can barely breathe, it hurts so bad!”
“It looks worse than it is. I’m sure it’ll be gone in a couple of days…”
“You should see the other one.”
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want your pity.”
“It was my fault, really. I wasn’t paying attention and got hit in the face.”
“Getting stabbed wasn’t really on my bucket list.”
“I don’t think I can walk.”
“Leave me behind, please. I’m just going to slow you down.”
“Am I going to die?”
“I can’t stop the bleeding.”
“I think the bruise matches my eye color.”
“Don’t touch it, please! It hurts.”
“I don’t want to go to a hospital. I hate doctors!”
