Season 2: Every character is the most obvious killer.
Aewin
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3 yrs ago
Secured myself two interviews next week and waiting on the outcome of a third, feeling good today 💕
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4 yrs ago
I think there are far more important things to worry about than people calling their characters "muses".
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5 yrs ago
Imagine how sad your life must be to flex on some nerds online.
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7 yrs ago
nuke the status bar
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7 yrs ago
I passed my exams!
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Bio
╔══════════════╗
a e w i n
also known as the weirdo that fangirls a lot• annie • 26 • united kingdom •
╚══════════════╝
Most Recent Posts
I really wish I made a butler character and offered them up as the murder just so I could say the butler did it.
LOST SOMEWHERE IN PARIS.
The moment Lucia stepped off the plane, everything inside her screamed for her to turn right back around and purchase a return ticket back to London. She had only recently started getting used to living alone in the bustling capital of England and here she was, all alone in a foreign land. Hanging from one shoulder was a small carry-on, with her passport and other items peeking out from the half-zipped bag, and her palms were wrapped around the dark handle of her maroon suitcase. Like a lost tourist, Lucia was stood at the front of the arrivals gate from which she had come through a few minutes ago, looking around the airport with widened eyes.
No matter how much she wanted to go back home and curl up under the comfort of her covers with her cat, Sugar, she knew she couldn't let herself go through with her wishes. There was a lot at stake, and the pressure kept eating away inside her. If Lucia stays, she'll get what she wants. If she stays, she'll get her wish fulfilled. How could she say no to that? The fact that she was already in Paris should be proof enough that she wanted it desperately, so what's one more day?
'Yeah... one more day. Keep telling yourself that, and just maybe you might actually listen.' Psyching herself up did little for the pickle she had found herself in. Her stomach turned, and her mouth turned down as she felt the familiar tingle of nausea building up. The flight she had taken from Heathrow had been particularly turbulent, and for a first-time traveller, it was a complete nightmare. It had taken her all her willpower to stop herself from getting sick on the aircraft, but Lucia could still feel the after-effects of being up in the air for far too long.
Someone brushed past her side in a hurry, pushing her to the side and throwing a half-hearted apology from over their shoulder before disappearing into the crowds in front of her. The impact caused her to drop her carry on in surprise, the contents of the bag slipping out easily across the polished flooring. Lucia quickly dropped to her knees, biting down a squeal of shock as she tried to gather her items before some other hurried businessman would step over her things in their hurry. Lucia collected the items, pressing it against her chest and in a hurried motion stood up - which didn't help the feeling of nausea.
Thinking it to be best for her to get out of the way before she finds herself in another collision, Lucia looked around for the nearest uncrowded area of the airport to try and get her valuables safely tucked away into her carry-on bag. It took a while, but eventually Lucia was able to snag a corner to herself long enough to hide away her passport, deciding to keep her invitation letter from Bonaparte and the handy guide to help her find her way around the new city. Her first priority was to find a place that would serve a nice steaming mug of chamomile and honey tea. When sick, Lucia found that nothing was better than that particular flavour. Maybe it was because it reminded her of home, or maybe she simply craved the comfort that only a warm cup of tea could bring her.
Maybe she was being a little picky, but Lucia wasn't comfortable with the idea of going to the crowded airport cafe and trying to explain with her broken French-English hybrid language to ask for the exact tea she wanted. She did the next best thing she could: using the internet to find an English speaking cafe that was close enough so she could find her way back to the meeting spot near the airport entrance. When she found something that looked particularly interesting, Lucia took off on her own little adventure.
With the map on her phone, it should've been impossible to get lost so easily, but after a few wrong turns in the bustling city was enough. It didn't take too long for her phone to turn off from the lack of battery either, denying her access to the map.
You're on your own. And in this foreign city, she was.
Frustrated, Lucia shoved her phone back into her bag. The internet usage was reaching its limit anyway, so she knew she didn't have long before she'd lose the remaining balance if she continued using the crappy app. She felt the eyes of passersby, causing her to duck the lower half of her face into the deep red scarf she had wrapped around her neck, her eyes staring down at the cobblestone pavement in embarrassment.
'Stop looking at me like that...' She shakily readjusted her grip on her suitcase, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Lucia stood for a moment longer before she took hasty steps forward, eyes still averted. She didn't bother checking the direction which she was headed, she just wanted to get away from the prying eyes around her. Only when she turned the corner, she looked up. Her eyes found a cafe tucked into the corner of the street, and she sighed with relief.
It didn't matter if the cafe didn't have exactly what she wanted anymore. She just wanted to sit down and forget about her luck with technology. She approached the cafe, and almost cracked a smile as she noticed the exaggerated use of the England flag and all things British inside. The bell lightly jingled as she stepped through the doors, and she was met with a rush of warmth and comforting smells of tea and baked goods.
The familiar scents brought her anxiety down, making her feel a little more comfortable in the new city. Lucia could almost cry in relief as she heard the barista call out to her in accented English, greeting and beckoning her closer towards them. She approached the counter, her eyes scanning the menu above before requesting her drink in a small voice. She didn't mind the overly expensive price tag at this point, she was willing to take anything. While she waited for her tea, she looked around the crowded cafe but found no available seats much to no avail.
"'Ere you go, ma'am!"
The barista's voice caused Lucia to almost jump in surprise, and her eyes darted back towards the barista behind the counter. In her hand was a tray with a porcelain teacup and a teapot, and Lucia reached out to take the tray from the server with a small smile. "Thank you," the accent in her small voice was clear.
She turned around to look for any free tables. Lucia hoped that in the minute she had looked away to take the tray from the barista someone would have left, but her luck wasn't that good. She looked around, only stopping at a table occupied by a man sipping tea and reading something. He looked alone, but the single seat opposite him was the only one available in the crowded cafe. Her hand tightly gripped the tray, and she attempted to juggle her suitcase, carry-on, and the invitation letter and guide from Bonaparte towards the man sitting alone.
When she was close enough, Lucia took a deep breath before opening her mouth. "E-excuse me, s-sir?" Hoping the man could understand English, she continued, "M-may I s-sit here? Th-there are no ot-other seats in h-here a-and this is th-the only one f-free..."
No matter how much she wanted to go back home and curl up under the comfort of her covers with her cat, Sugar, she knew she couldn't let herself go through with her wishes. There was a lot at stake, and the pressure kept eating away inside her. If Lucia stays, she'll get what she wants. If she stays, she'll get her wish fulfilled. How could she say no to that? The fact that she was already in Paris should be proof enough that she wanted it desperately, so what's one more day?
'Yeah... one more day. Keep telling yourself that, and just maybe you might actually listen.' Psyching herself up did little for the pickle she had found herself in. Her stomach turned, and her mouth turned down as she felt the familiar tingle of nausea building up. The flight she had taken from Heathrow had been particularly turbulent, and for a first-time traveller, it was a complete nightmare. It had taken her all her willpower to stop herself from getting sick on the aircraft, but Lucia could still feel the after-effects of being up in the air for far too long.
Someone brushed past her side in a hurry, pushing her to the side and throwing a half-hearted apology from over their shoulder before disappearing into the crowds in front of her. The impact caused her to drop her carry on in surprise, the contents of the bag slipping out easily across the polished flooring. Lucia quickly dropped to her knees, biting down a squeal of shock as she tried to gather her items before some other hurried businessman would step over her things in their hurry. Lucia collected the items, pressing it against her chest and in a hurried motion stood up - which didn't help the feeling of nausea.
Thinking it to be best for her to get out of the way before she finds herself in another collision, Lucia looked around for the nearest uncrowded area of the airport to try and get her valuables safely tucked away into her carry-on bag. It took a while, but eventually Lucia was able to snag a corner to herself long enough to hide away her passport, deciding to keep her invitation letter from Bonaparte and the handy guide to help her find her way around the new city. Her first priority was to find a place that would serve a nice steaming mug of chamomile and honey tea. When sick, Lucia found that nothing was better than that particular flavour. Maybe it was because it reminded her of home, or maybe she simply craved the comfort that only a warm cup of tea could bring her.
Maybe she was being a little picky, but Lucia wasn't comfortable with the idea of going to the crowded airport cafe and trying to explain with her broken French-English hybrid language to ask for the exact tea she wanted. She did the next best thing she could: using the internet to find an English speaking cafe that was close enough so she could find her way back to the meeting spot near the airport entrance. When she found something that looked particularly interesting, Lucia took off on her own little adventure.
With the map on her phone, it should've been impossible to get lost so easily, but after a few wrong turns in the bustling city was enough. It didn't take too long for her phone to turn off from the lack of battery either, denying her access to the map.
You're on your own. And in this foreign city, she was.
Frustrated, Lucia shoved her phone back into her bag. The internet usage was reaching its limit anyway, so she knew she didn't have long before she'd lose the remaining balance if she continued using the crappy app. She felt the eyes of passersby, causing her to duck the lower half of her face into the deep red scarf she had wrapped around her neck, her eyes staring down at the cobblestone pavement in embarrassment.
'Stop looking at me like that...' She shakily readjusted her grip on her suitcase, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Lucia stood for a moment longer before she took hasty steps forward, eyes still averted. She didn't bother checking the direction which she was headed, she just wanted to get away from the prying eyes around her. Only when she turned the corner, she looked up. Her eyes found a cafe tucked into the corner of the street, and she sighed with relief.
It didn't matter if the cafe didn't have exactly what she wanted anymore. She just wanted to sit down and forget about her luck with technology. She approached the cafe, and almost cracked a smile as she noticed the exaggerated use of the England flag and all things British inside. The bell lightly jingled as she stepped through the doors, and she was met with a rush of warmth and comforting smells of tea and baked goods.
The familiar scents brought her anxiety down, making her feel a little more comfortable in the new city. Lucia could almost cry in relief as she heard the barista call out to her in accented English, greeting and beckoning her closer towards them. She approached the counter, her eyes scanning the menu above before requesting her drink in a small voice. She didn't mind the overly expensive price tag at this point, she was willing to take anything. While she waited for her tea, she looked around the crowded cafe but found no available seats much to no avail.
"'Ere you go, ma'am!"
The barista's voice caused Lucia to almost jump in surprise, and her eyes darted back towards the barista behind the counter. In her hand was a tray with a porcelain teacup and a teapot, and Lucia reached out to take the tray from the server with a small smile. "Thank you," the accent in her small voice was clear.
She turned around to look for any free tables. Lucia hoped that in the minute she had looked away to take the tray from the barista someone would have left, but her luck wasn't that good. She looked around, only stopping at a table occupied by a man sipping tea and reading something. He looked alone, but the single seat opposite him was the only one available in the crowded cafe. Her hand tightly gripped the tray, and she attempted to juggle her suitcase, carry-on, and the invitation letter and guide from Bonaparte towards the man sitting alone.
When she was close enough, Lucia took a deep breath before opening her mouth. "E-excuse me, s-sir?" Hoping the man could understand English, she continued, "M-may I s-sit here? Th-there are no ot-other seats in h-here a-and this is th-the only one f-free..."
Snaggle mentioned that @Aewin would be encountering Conrad soon, so I may or may not wait until then to post.
Yup yup, and I'm already more than halfway through my post so it should ideally be up pretty soon.
Everybody just commits suicide in their first post.
There we have it guys, we found the actual True Ending.
<Snipped quote by Aewin>
So, wait, we try to die first, and then the real RP gets to begin?
It's a genius design.
From a Dating Sim, now I imagine this RP evolving into a Dumb Ways to Die game.
<Snipped quote by Aewin>
Not gonna lie; I thought you meant the dirty kind of booty. So did the rest of you -- don't lie.
Who knows? Maybe you'll find a way to keep some people alive. I did say it was in your hands.
I propose something for the ghosts/dead people in that case: those that die get to romance other ghosts behind the scenes. Gruesome murder happening? Watch the awkward romance between two already dead characters as they phase through each other everytime they try to touch.
Truly revolutionary.
pls don't kill me Sho I just woke up and I'm in the mood to mess around
Actually, I'm curious about who you're shipping with Bonaparte in this RP, just by looking at the Public CS so far. Heh.
The little shit in me ships him with less money first, but no. I'm uncertain at this moment XD
Looking at just this page of OOC, who would be able to tell that this is actually an RP where everyone dies instead of a harem dating sim for the Bonaparte booty?
By booty I mean gold, gosh you filthy kids.
By booty I mean gold, gosh you filthy kids.
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