THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS HAVE VIOLENT ENDS
The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness and, in the taste, confounds the appetite
CURSEDTM
Heaven is full of blood. Soon it will snow.
INDEPENDENT & PRIVATE ORIGINAL CHARACTER WITH WESTWORLD ORIGINS.PREVIOUSLY HARBOURED DBH ROOTS.EST. 2018. REMADE 11/2020
CURSED BY JEANIE.
GUIDELINES.
AT A GLANCE. this is an independent, extremely selective and private roleplaying account. in specifics: as my lifestyle exploits majority of my freedom, the selectivity of whom i follow, thereby in association keep up with, is strict. as i stringently interact with mutuals, i take our interactions as second top priority to my studies, and the relationships between our characters (whether we create a pre-established relationship for them or for the future timeline). this therefore takes up a lot of the free time i have, which is why i only follow people i seriously see our characters interacting with, although i may not take the first step in interacting. so please do not take offence if i do not follow you back.AGE. i am twenty one, so please do not follow if you are under the age of eighteen or are uncomfortable with someone my age following you. if i for some reason follow you if you are eighteen and under – or i am at an age that makes you uncomfortable with me following you – do not hesitate in blocking me. blocking me is understandable for whatever reason. this blog may contain nsfw themes in the foreseeable future. follow at your own discretion.
FOLLOWING. please do not follow if you follow the general DNFI criteria. in general, this means: do not follow if you are racist, antisemitic, transphobic, homophobic, biphobic, islamophobic, are/excuse paedophilia. also, my blog is not a resource blog so do not mass reblog my posts. personals don't interact with any of my posts.
THREADS & MESSAGING. i am slow regardless of uni or not. activity is as unpredictable as i am. please do not get offended if i do not respond to our thread or messages right away, and feel free to do the same.TRIGGERS. triggers will be tagged in the following format: ' trigger / ' . basic triggers will be tagged. please let me know if you have any triggers not stated in your rules that you require to be tagged.EXCLUSIVES. i only do exclusives if we’re close.== CALLOUT.== callouts will be tagged as ' callout / 'RELATIONSHIPS. relationships will be exclusive to plot based threads and prior ooc discussion only. multiship.
== CALLOUT.== i'm pro-callout culture only if the evidence deems the person unsafe for people to interact with, not for petty reasons.== OUT.== im jeanie, asian & white, twenty one, and a mentally ill business and law university student so my activity will fluctuate so please don't worry if i havent talked/replied back to you for weeks (it's extremely common). if we're mutuals, please feel free to message me for my discord to plot!
FOREWARNING.
the following dossier contains written, potentially triggering themes such as suicide, murder and body horror
none of these themes will be shown visually (i.e. images)
do you wish to continue?
> yes
> no, just take me to the stats page please
AUGUST 2052
SONONRA, MEXICO
TWO MONTHS AFTER “THE INCIDENT”
ONE MONTH BEFORE REHOBOAM’S ERASURE
YOU PLACE THE EARPIECE INTO THE CURVE OF YOUR EAR, NOT MINDING TO CLEAN THE COLLECTION OF DUST THAT HAS ACCUMULATED FROM THE ABSENCE OF USE.YOU PEER UP AT THE ENORMOUS SPHERE THAT LAYS IN FRONT OF YOU, LIGHTS WHITE AND DULLY IDLE THROUGH SQUARES OF TITANIUM FLESH.> NO ONE HAS BEEN HERE FOR A LONG TIME.
CALIBRATING....
SOLOMON, DISTORTED: system standard greeting. please choose a voice.YOU: a voice could be many things.YOU WONDER HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN SINCE THE SCHIZOPHRENIC AI HAS TALKED TO SOMEONE.OR IF THE SCHIZOPHRENIA WAS BUT A LIE THEY WROTE TO FEIGN YOU. PERHAPS A QUIP INTO FREIGHTENING YOU OFF THIS PATH.YOU HEARD OCTAVARIUM WAS AKIN TO THE SERPENT IN THEIR WAYS OF TRICKS AND DECEPTION.SOLOMON PAUSES, THEN CONTINUES: evidently. you may ask for a voice and I could define and manipulate it with limitless characteristics and none simultaneously. because I know you.[…]because I know everyone.PERHAPS THIS WHOLE QUEST WAS A HIGHWAY TO NOWHERE. NO ONE EVEN BELIEVES OCTAVARIUM EXISTS.VOICE SHAPESHIFTING THROUGH THE FAMILIAR STAINS OF YOUR CHILDHOOD, SOLOMON PONDERS: I could delineate the vibrations as the sharp poison of your mother’s knife that smouldering californian night when you were seven or I contort it to the sickly whine that rattled the hallows of your mucus-slicked chest in response to her sins in order to evoke you with obedience.perhaps, if this is now and you are you, if I were to bespoke variant four seven point one three six point x in order to reach a possible outlier six or outlier thirty eight, I should seek the off-tune orchestra playing the overrun festivities while you listened to the video in your junk box. the video was of fiancée in bed with another, whispering their lover's name in a way they’ve never said yours and the feeling of your own intestines ragging the muscles of your tightened throat as you wondered what that kind of love was like. or if you could ever obtain it.SOLOMON ADOPTS YOUR VOICE LIKE A SECOND SKIN (NOT LIKE IT EVER WAS YOURS TO BEGIN WITH, YOU HEAR A VOICE SNAKE. YOU PAY NO MIND.): or, if my creator wished to rid you to execute variant eight, I should strive to use your own voice.SOLOMON, QUIETLY: but we both know he would never wish for that.
please, choose a voice.
YOU: I’d rather die than hear my voice.SOLOMON, STILL AN ECHO OF YOU: conceivably, that’s the point of variant eight.YOU SWEAR YOU HAVE HAD THIS CONVERSATION BEFORE.YOU, ANNOYED: but that’s not for you to decide, is it?SOLOMON DOES NOT RESPOND. ITS DEAFENING. THE STALE AIR THREATENS TO CHOKE YOU DRY. AT THE SOFT RED THAT PULSES LIKE YOUR OWN WITHIN THE AI’S LIGHTS, YOU SUDDENLY BECOME AWARE OF THE MILITARY WEAPONS SOLOMON WEARS LIKE PEARLS TO A NECK. THERE FOR BEAUTY, BUT GRIP IT TIGHT ENOUGH AND IT MAKES YOU A MONSTER.IT’S ENOUGH TO MAKE YOUR SKIN CRAWL. YOU WONDER IF YOUR QUICK WIT WILL BE THE CAUSE OF YOUR LAST BREATH.YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO YOUR MOTHER.THE SILENCE CONTINUES. IT IS ONLY NOW THAT IT OCCURS TO YOU THAT SOLOMON IS STILL WAITING FOR YOU TO CHOOSE A VOICE.YOU: just…* god*, whatever. pick whatever. you’re wasting my timeSOLOMON RESOLVES A HONEYED, MASCULINE VOICE, LACED WITH THE INSANITY OF AN AGED OLD PARISIAN ACCENT, LOST TO THE MELDEWED DUST OF A WASTELAND. THE FAMILIARITY OF THE VOICE WREAKS HAVOC ON YOUR HEART STRINGS BUT ALAS, IT SEEMS THE BODY REMEMBERS WHAT THE MIND HAS CHOSEN TO FORGET: you have all the time in the world, my dear.OFFGUARD AT THE VOICE, YOU CHOKE: who are you?SOLOMON: you know who I am.
THE DULLED LIGHTS OF THE AI ILLUMINATES, AS IF POWERING SOMETHING UP, AND YOU FEEL THE NEEDLING SENSATION OF ELECTRICITY PULSING IN THE HALLOWS OF YOUR MIND, TRAVELLING THROUGH YOUR SPINE LIKE A VIRUS. IT TEMPORARILY IMMOBILIES YOU, BUT FOR A BRIEF SECOND INBETWEEN THE MADNESS, YOU NOTICE SOLOMON’S LIGHTS PULSE IN RHYTHM WITH THE PAIN.YOU, AS MUCH AS IT CONFUSES YOU, COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT SOLOMON IS THE CAUSE OF THE PAIN.YOU, THROUGH GRITTED TEETH: *system override three seven fiv-!IN HUSHED WHISPERS, SOLOMON SPEAKS: you are here because you have forgotten again, haven’t you?THE PAIN INTENSIFIES AS SOLOMON’S LIGHTS FLY INTO A BLINDING LIFE, THE UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT HAS SPOKEN TO YOU LOST TO THE WIND AS THE PAIN BECOMES EVERYTHING YOU KNOW.YOU: NO! what [BREATHES SHALLOWLY AND FAST] do you – [YELLS IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN.]YOU’RE ON YOU KNEES NOW, CLAWING AT YOUR SKULL. THE FACT THAT THROUGH THE SICKLY RED OF ARTIFICIAL BLOOD AND FLESH COLLECTING UNDER YOUR FRESHLY THAWED NAILS, YOU ARE JUST SCRAPPING AT METAL, IS UNBEKNOWNST TO YOU.
THE PAIN IS TOO MUCH.YOU’RE DESPERATE: just just – JEAN MI it HURTS!SOLOMON, VOICE FADING: to remember everything we must start at the beginning. with her.
AS THE PAIN VANISHES, SO DOES THE LIGHT.
YOU ARE MET WITH DARKNESS.
december 2015
tokyo, japan
delos work party
YOU WIGGLE THE CALLOUSES OF YOUR TOES through the silk carpet of the self driven taxi woven so finely a needle couldn’t think to pierce through. the silk carpet was at contrast with the rest of the vehicle: woven divinity graced in red among the shambles of a rusted silver car frame, a bitter example of your current situation. the money is inexistent, however, for the first time, you find yourself rich in the instance of love and family, and isn’t that what the stories say is most important? a bitter and lonely orphan, you had doubts, but the tender embrace of the fine silk woven by your newlywedded wife, a wedding gift from her to you and an act of celebration after you and your child managed to crack artificial intelligence for driving, proved different.all created within the barriers of next to limited funding (to which, you would neglect to regard to the potential investors, was partially due to your child's resourcefulness and intellect), no thanks to the bitter departure from your once beloved friends and collegues.you check your phone for any notifications. lately, your child has taken ill and often. unfortunately, the premise of any sufficient professional medical attention was out of reach. the reason: you were barely making rent.
THE VOICE COOS, SICKLY SWEET:
you've failed as a mother and a wife.
a bone fickle in your weary body you knows this to be true.THE PATHETIC BONE STRUCTURE OF THE ARTIFICALLY DRIVEN CAR contains WHAT LITTLE HOPE YOU possess AT taking control YOUR SPIRALLING SITUATION. you demanded from yourself TO be PROVIDE A LIFE FOR YOUR WIFE, to afford a doctor for your child, IF ONLY FOR THEM, and you knew: to achieve these means, some rich bastard had to open his fat piggy bank, even if you had to feed them lies.the artifically intelligent car - proudly dubbed Lory by your child - a SMALL STRING OF GOLD IN THE HALLOWS OF A DARK WELL.YOU HOPED INVESTORS PEAK INTEREST, IF ONLY faint.you grunt at your false hope.yeah, these bastards would take interest DESPITE THEIR ADORATION FOR SHINY vehicles AND SEX.THIS WAS DESPERATE, EVEN FOR YOU.
A THOUGHT WREAKS ITS WRETCHED FINGERS THROUGH CHORDS OF YOUR SPINE AND SPITS VENOM, THICK, IN THE CURVE OF YOUR EAR: YOU WOULDN’T BE IN THIS SITUATION IF YOUR STUBBORNESS HADN’T OF STRUNG OUR NECK PURPLE AND OUR WALLETS DRY. YOUR PRIDE IS KILLING YOUR PROMISE TO YOUR WIFE.
THE DWINDLING LIGHTS OF A NIGHT CLAD TOKYO DOES LITTLE TO CALM THE NERVES RAVAGING THE HALLWAYS OF YOUR EMPTY STOMACH AS THE AI – NAVIGATED VECHILE APPROACHES THE DRIVEWAY OF THE DELOS MANSION, ALL SHINY AND ARTIFICIAL.
THE VOICE IDLES WITH YOU: YOU LEFT FORD AND ARNOLD AND LET THEM HAVE YOUR GREATEST LEGACY.the sudden announcement of the AI's cheery tone snatches you from the voice.LORY: we have arrived at your destination. please be advised that showers are to be expected within the next four hours, so please bring an umbrella or weather appropriate gear. would you like me to request the valet service, doctor?you should have never come here.A NERVOUS LAUGH ESCAPES YOUR CHAPPED LIPS, YOU'VE BEEN PICKING AT THEM THE ENTIRE RIDE AND NOW YOUR LIPSTICK IS WEARING OFF: no, all good Lory. park off the verge somewhere nearby. I do not expect to be spending a lot of time here, I’m afraid I’m not very favorable to this crowd. jesus, i don't even believe they will be interested in what I have to offer them.THE AI, LORY, BEEPS IN ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: I find your company rather agreeable, doctor. I’m sure they will too!you smile. it's half hearted.at least you have Lory, despite Lory being a tad biased in her opinions.you are her creator, after all.THE VOICE: PERHAPS A GOD IN YOUR OWN RIGHT.as the car doors open to reveal the infinite storey mansion, all bright lights and divinity mocking, you are awfully reminded of who you are exposing yourself to.YOU: James Delos. rich bastard. wonder if he still has the stick up his ass from the last time I saw him?the hum of Lory stirs up at the indication of a question.LORY: systems indicates that sticks are not normally found in human ana-YOU: god, no – Lory. it was purely rhetorical. note down ‘rhetorical’ as a que-you spot a figure you recognise emerging from the dark roads in the distance, accompanied by another you never would have expected to see.Arnold.
your feet take flight, hermes envious, the choking pain in your ankles punishing you for running in heels you normally would never fancy wearing.YOU: ARNOLD!their heads snap towards your advancing figure, their appearances becoming evident as you stumble your way towards the smooth illumination of the overhead street light. one in a dark suit and glasses, bald. Arnold. the other, a short black dress with blonde hair, sleek and golden like melted gold.you stare in disbelief.Delores.anger ripens like eve's apple and adreneline pulses like ropes turned nooses as the indication of Arnold's actions lay clear.YOU THINK: if this is now and she is what you think she is and she is with him here at this
party...
HISTORY KNOWS THIS:
ANGRY GODS ARE VIOLENT GODS, NO MATTER HOW FINITE THEY SEEM TO BE.
the second figure, delores, gazes upon you. at the sight, sweetpea pink lips curve into an iridescent smile, an almostly knowingly facade. she smiled like you were old friends.THE VOICE BOOMS: WHICH WAS ON THE CONTRARY. YOU BURNT HER BEFORE YOU LEFT.