False Prophet

Perf's (Un)creative Roleplay Corner (OPEN)

Update: I figured it out, I'm in the mood for a western (because of course)

Perf's (Un)creative Roleplay Corner (OPEN)

Welcome to my special Hell.

My name is Perf. I'm a misanthropic and reclusive individual that behaves more like a wild animal. I like to write, draw, game, and look at spiders (I also enjoy beetles). Like them, I'm ultimately harmless. I've been role-playing for about 7 years, give or take.

I'm a transgender man. My pseudonym is Perf, short for Perfidious. You may also call me my name, Virgil. I'm a gray-aromantic queer man with too many boundaries for his own good. I have BPD with psychosis, but I don't bite.

I'm what the Cool Kids call "angsty as fuck". I write about dark, violent, and uncomfortable topics. My characters are flawed beings like the rest of us. It's not all bad, though. I'm a sci-fi and fantasy enthusiast. I've always loved fiction as opposed to reality because I don't think it really exists.

Anyway, this is a compilation of shit I enjoy for my current/future RP partners to reference.

Fandoms
-D&D
-The Legend of Vox Machina
-The Legend of Zelda
-Portal
-Red Dead Redemption
-Merlin
-Avatar The Last Airbender
-Undertale
-Stranger Things

Genres
-Western
-Sci-fi
-Futuristic
-Medieval Fantasy
-Modern Fantasy
-Dark Fantasy
-Mystery
-Horror
-Angst
-Drama
-Gothic

What I like to play
I have an affinity for playing edgyass, deeply flawed characters. I like my angst. I currently love fall-from-grace tropes and corruption arcs, meaning a characters that slowly lose their morality trying to achieve a goals. Revenge arcs, descents to villainy, and madness from power really tickle my fancy. Other things I have enjoyed exploring is the idea of true evil, and what societal expectations can do to a person. Don't get me wrong, I also like a good redemption arc. Most of the bastards I play are undergoing some serious psychological struggle.

What I like others to play
I am not much to dictate what my partners play. I'm good with just about anything. If your character is flat, I will scream. Please, just have some depth. Hobbyless, goalless characters are hard to work with.

RULES
1. You do not have to have a plot to ask for a roleplay. We can create one together.

2. All I request is at least two paragraphs of material. That's 10-14 lines. I can write pages if needed but would prefer not to.
(I am VERY tired right now and I struggle to write more than 4+ paragraphs. I am at the mercy of my own head, apologies)

3. I am a bit peculiar with romance. It can be introduced as a sub-plot or if our characters have chemistry, but don't assume our ocs are dating right off the bat (unless the plot was engineered that way). On the topic of romance, I find it to be very very boring on its own. I am, first and foremost, an angst writer. I don't find fun in fluff/wholesome relationships. My characters are toxic people who create toxic relationships.

4. I love sci-fi and fantasy, and would prefer that over slice-of-life. However, I also enjoy darker themes that include crime and violence. I'll settle for angsty realism if needed.

5. LGBT+ is fine. I mostly do bxb anyways. I can do bxg, but I cannot play women in the relationship. Seeing that I am transgender and a lot of my ocs are also transgender, do keep that in mind with pairings. If you don't like queer people, politely fuck off. I can tell the difference between ignorance and bigotry. Don't be an ass. Side note: trans men are MEN, and their choices with their body are none of your business. I've had to tell this to people several times- don't be one of them.

6. I don't care what faceclaim/image/art your oc has. I draw most of my characters, so whatever.

7. Try not to ghost me, but I get it if you do. If you don't like the roleplay, just say something or leave. If you feel like I'm ignoring you, just send me a message. I am unmedicated, so I can and WILL forget things. I have a habit of isolating myself, so prod me when I start going too quiet.

8. Do something. Please. Don't just be a complaisant little fellow. Make tour character argue, disagree, or cause conflict in some sort of way. I'm tired of having to make every plot point myself. Do whatever the hell you want (within reason)

9. My kink is not your kink. It's simple. Please, just ask first. I'm really not into any hardcore fetishes, anyway. Don't even ask about incest or rape fantasies, I'll pop you. A bit of a tangent, but I don't really like plots that only have the purpose of being horny. Give me a bit of depth, will you?

10. On the topic of smut, I'm very new to it. I don't mind it, and I'm actually curious to try writing some out with a partner. However, I have rules and boundaries. If I say cut it out, don't fight me on that. This also applies vice versa. I am very willing to communicate with you.

11. I'm fine with serious themes just as long as they are NOT romanticized. Please do research so you know what you're doing. I like writing dark, edgy shit, so tell me your limits. Be careful with themes of losing touch with reality, as I have BPD with psychosis. Obviously, I can unintentionally be triggered.

12. My timezone is EST but my sleep schedule is so broken that it doesn't matter.

13. I refuse to roleplay with characters named Quinn or anything too similar. The name is one of my triggers. I also refuse to roleplay with characters named Finn, as that was a bad ex's name lmao. This is non-negotiable.

*14. Do not DM me to RP if you're under the age of 16. Thanks. I do not feel comfortable being alone with people too far out of my own range, ESPECIALLY if the plot is romantic in some way. I'm 18 and will only do platonic plots with minors.
*At the moment, I don't really want to RP with minors. Thank you.

15. Don't vent to me. I do not know you. This is something reserved for friends. I am also a stupid teenager who gives horrible advice. I am heavily burdened at the moment, so please don't stress me out. Roleplay is how I unwind and have fun. Please, just don't. I get it if you need to give me a heads up for something, though.

16. I like talking OOC to plan things or just chit chat about memes and whatnot, usually through discord (though not required). You've been warned.

17. Just to reiterate, I'm unmedicated and that makes me a bit unstable. Luckily this only shows as me growing distant or saying nonsensical shit online. If I start going quiet, prod me and give me a few hours to get ahold of myself. I swear I'm not trying to ignore/ghost you. I will end this by saying that I'm okay and safe, just a little odd and that can be very off-putting. Thank you.

18. This is an extention of #17. As nice and polite as I may seem, I am very much a schadenfreudian. It's very complicated, but I've come to accept myself. I would never hurt anybody in real life, but my characters can be cruel. VERY cruel. Don't ask me for fluff, I love watching things burn to the ground. I theorize this has to do with my BPD and empathy issues. I'm not romanticizing, I'm merely turning my negative energy into something productive. Cool? Cool.

@False Prophet

Hello hi.

right now I'm bored and tired of drawing, so why not write instead?

I have no idea what the fuck kind of plot I want the moment, oops- but I'm not into fandoms at the moment. Feel free to throw around ideas. I am looking for something with possible NSFW undertones/moments but good lord, don't be overly horny with me.

The OC I plan on playing is a very much gay, genderqueer man. If that doesn't interest you, please move along.

Perf's Artistic Menagerie

Completed character turnaround for Father Auburn

Violet Sheep Happy Hunting: A Cyberpunk Game

Time: 1:18 A.M. - 10:00 A.M.
Loc: Vordaunt Residence -> Dolly’s Apt.
@: N/A
Interactions: Blossom, Nigel Vordaunt
Equipment: HEDD

---

Dolly couldn’t feel anything. It was great. A smile pulled at his lips and his head was lolling as he swayed slightly in place. It was fine. This was fine. He couldn’t really think if he tried, but that was okay. At that moment, everything felt okay. Dolly stumbled forward and almost fell, but he was quickly caught by a pair of arms that didn’t belong to him. They were Nigel’s. Standing in front of him was a taller, older man with grizzling hair. His expression was neutral, almost a bit stern.

“You should probably go home,” he remarked while tilting his head.

Dolly gave a small giggle as he tried to regain his footing. "Yeah…”

The young man wasn’t particularly concerned about what was happening or what would happen. He just continued to smile stupidly with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. He seemingly melted into Nigel as he was hoisted into his arms. He usually hated being carried, but he couldn't summon the willpower to do anything other than lie there. He was utterly exhausted. How could he not be? He hadn't slept properly in days. This was actually the most relaxed he'd felt in a good while.

That's why Dolly willingly let Nigel spike his drink. He wasn't sure what was in that quarter-full whiskey glass given to him, but it took the edge off-- especially after his little nova-coke binge early that night back at the venue. It was worth whatever would ensue, as he wouldn't remember it, anyway. And that was fine. That was okay. At least he had convinced himself it was. He was a proper junkie, pretty much willing to do anything for his next fix. It was getting quite hard to keep his head up. The tips of his fingers that hung limply from his arm were tingling slightly. That meant it was working. The world was a lot fuzzier here.

Nigel wasn't escorting the little musician to a car that would chauffeur him back to his apartment. Not yet anyway. He carried him deeper into his residence, where the lights were dim, and the music was soft.

9:00 A.M.

Mornings were designated for mood crashes. From the second he opened his pale eyes, the pit in his stomach opened. It felt like all of his organs had fallen into it. Simultaneously, the overwhelming urge to vomit hit him like a truck. He shivered at the sensation of saliva welling up in his throat. The taste of his own mouth was nauseating. He had to go do something about that… If it wasn’t for his physiological hangover symptoms, he probably wouldn’t have crawled out from his bed for another two hours. Dolly rolled over from the comfort of his warm blankets and dragged himself to the closest trash can. He didn’t have the willpower to make it to the bathroom. While running a dainty hand through his hair to hold it back, he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into it. His body shuddered rather violently again- well, maybe not. Any mildly exaggerated action could be “violent” in the context of his frail body. It was disgusting. And he was also getting cold while kneeling on the floor.

And yet he stayed on the floor, completely still and silent. The only noise he made was in an effort to keep his own snot from dribbling out of his nose. Although he was almost always on the verge of tears, that wasn’t the reasoning behind his little sniffle. It was like a timer. Silence. Sniffle. Silence. Sniffle. Rinse and repeat. In actuality, his nasal passages were irritated. He gently rubbed the fleshy bit of his nose. It was a little pink and stung a bit. This was what he got for spending his night snorting nova-coke. Just another nasty little habit of his. Add it to the pile. He…needed a second. He was debating whether or not he’d sit there, go back to bed, or take a shower.

His brooding was interrupted by the rhythmic steps of a pink cybercom- his cybercom. She was a rather cute thing, modeled after a bunny like some sort of cyborg plushie. She extended a mechanical, pink paw towards its owner and offered him a water bottle. When Dolly looked up at the rabbit android, it became abundantly clear that he needed to go rot under a shower of hot water for a while. Rather reproachfully, he took the bottle and raised it to his lips. Blossom, the little robot, always made him think of Nigel. After all, he was the one that purchased her. Everything seemed to loop back to Nigel. God, he hated Nigel. Sometimes he felt like he could still feel the older man’s hands on his hips. It was mostly forgotten, but the events of what had taken place at the Vordaunt Residence were floating hazily in his head somewhere. Finally, it registered that he had somehow gotten back to his apartment. This was alright with him. Dolly tilted his head back and swallowed a few mouthfuls of water. Maybe it'd help him resist the urge to throw up again.

With some help from his bed frame, Dolly managed to pull himself off of the floor. The cool tile was sapping away his body heat, along with his will to live. He passed the water bottle back to his cybercom and then stifled a yawn. He was still tired. He must've slept…almost six hours? That was actually a record. He was lucky if he caught even four consecutive hours of shuteye. Another reason he'd been threatened with being replaced by a fuckin' robotic clone. Back on the topic of robots… He cast a glance back at Blossom.

"Rabbit, time?"

If it wasn't clear that he didn't like her, it was now. He'd never called her by her proper name. Ever. She was just Rabbit, sometimes with The added to the front of her title. Blossom also had no proper voice. She was fitted with some of the highest quality speakers available in her upright ears, but those were for playing music (mostly). She could, if needed, use text-to-speech, but Dolly never had any use for such a function. She trotted up to the human, her cartoonish eyes flickering away. The screen that made up her face now displayed a few lines of text. He paused to read it.

"Mkay," Dolly mumbled and then gently shooed her away. 9 A.M. It should be raining again. No new messages from Hiro. Seven unread from Buck. 417 suspected spam. Whatever. He padded into his apartment's cramped bathroom- it wasn't too bad for him, as he was short and skinny. It was pretty much perfect for his size. That didn't mean he was very fond of it, though. His mood further dropped when he finally got a look in the mirror. as he saw the marks staining his white skin. Deep purple spots, some mauve and tinged with pink, littered his neck. A parting gift from his boss. He only ever had one rule: no marks. Of course, the rules didn't apply to a man like Nigel. Dolly watched eyes turn glossy and he quickly looked away. He needed to turn on the shower tap. So that was exactly what he focused on doing.

Silent crying was an art he'd mastered thanks to the same man. Dolly wouldn't even cry audibly in the privacy of his own home anymore. He wasn't some stupid crybaby. In fact, he didn't even think he had a good reason to be upset. Marks fade! He had makeup! It was fine! He was fucking fine! Nigel hadn't even hurt him this time, so this was better than usual. His vision blurred momentarily before he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Goddammit, stop crying. Stop crying. He swallowed thickly, removing the curled index finger that he was not-so-gently biting in an effort to stay quiet. This was fine. He was fine. He hurriedly dropped his clothes, which consisted of a white tank top and light pink undershorts. He didn't remember changing into this, which meant it was probably Nigel who did it before sending him home. Christ.

The sound of the pattering hot water masked that his breathing had gone funny. Dolly hopped inside, sighing as he felt the warm droplets wash away the tears cascading down his face. His shoulders slumped as he managed to relax, but only after a shiver ran down his spine. He was probably going to take a while, which was whatever. To hell with utility bills, Nigel would pay for them. The rising steam soothed his nose, thankfully. The irritation combined with the congestion brought from sobbing forced him to resort to mouth breathing. It made him feel stupid. Sleeping with his boss made him feel stupider. Everything else made him feel like one of the stupidest morons to grace this bitch of an earth. The thought alone made himself suppress a pained whimper. He loathed his self-awareness.

Dolly's time in the shower switched between looping thoughts about how much of an idiot he was, and what color he should temporarily dye his hair for the next show. It helped calm him down before he inevitably made himself cry again. Blue. He liked the color blue. A few streaks of powder blue would provide good contrast, as most of his wardrobe was pink. He was getting a bit tired of it. He wanted to get the stuff that glows under blacklights, as his natural hair color (or lack of it) shined brightly under them if he used the right hairspray. When he exited the shower, the reddening in his face had mostly faded. Although, the whites of his eyes were still a pinkish hue.

10 A.M.

By the time he was dried, dressed, and finishing his makeup, an hour had passed. He would've liked to go back to bed, but that would have proved to be redundant- sooner or later, he was probably going to be summoned to do something, whether it be an interview, meet-n-greet, or a PR stunt. Instead of resting, he put on one of the most oversized jackets he had (it was a shade of bright pink that matched his cybercom) and sipped on an energy drink. It tasted like battery acid and cough syrup, but it was one of those things he was used to. Breakfast consisted of caffeine, aspirin, and a leftover Chinese takeout. He shooed Blossom away every time she tried to hand him his water bottle again. He was very short with her, as he was adamant about not needing her help. Sure, his head was throbbing, and his muscles ached, but he was just fine. Maybe if he kept telling himself this, it’d come true.

Dolly finally relented to the rabbit’s fussing, but this was only because he needed something. After snatching the bottle, he plopped himself onto his bedside and called over to the android, his elbow resting on his knee as he supported his chin in his palm.

“Rabbit, I need to send a message to Hiro- a private message, for Hiro only.”

The cybercom approached and let out a soft chim to signify she was recording.

“Hey, so…” Dolly mumbled. He inhaled sharply to try and regain himself. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to meet up at Happy Noodle again. I know we already went, but…I dunno, I’m just bored. End message.”

The phrase “I dunno, I’m just bored” was Dolly code for “I really need some help right now”. Hiro knew that, and he was probably the only one fluent in such a cipher. Dolly was never really honest around Blossom. He was stupid, but not stupid. Nigel had remote access to her, which meant he could go through all of his messages, history, and even spy on him in real time. He stopped caring about the privacy violations long ago. Dolly let out a sputtering sigh that made the locks of hair in his face fly forward momentarily. And now he would wait for a response. It could be minutes. It could be hours. Hell, maybe even days. Hiro was an elusive and busy guy. Honestly...Dolly didn't know that much about his personal life.

Perf's Artistic Menagerie

finally drew him as a human again

Violet Sheep Happy Hunting: A Cyberpunk Game

uhoh another one

Pascal Harper

Pascal "Dolly" Harper, 21
_{60 in / 95 lbs
S T A T U S : Surplus
E M P L O Y M E N T : Musical Artist
F L A W : Borderline. Dolly has BPD. He's extremely sensitive and impulsive to the point where it strains relationships. He's generally a bit difficult to get along with.
V I R T U E : Passionate. Deep down, Dolly is a loving, caring individual by nature. He's just out of touch with this side of himself. He cares immensely about what's important to him.}

---

P E R S O N A L I T Y

---

To those around him, Dolly is a fierce try-hard with a serious Napoleon complex. This is all very true, but he is more than a short guy with too much attitude. Dolly's aggression is very warranted seeing that the world is cruel, and he is trying to make a point of not being an easy target. Throughout his life, he's learned to always be on guard. It's how he survived. He sees most people as a potential threat, and also gets rather insecure around people larger than him since they threaten his authority. He likes to belittle and insult others, but only if he believes he can get away with it. Though he has a hard time swallowing his pride, he will do so for survival. Deep down, he feels an obligation to stick up for the "little guy". They remind him of himself. He has an obsession with proving that he is not weak, even if he physically is. He also has a very difficult time accepting assistance from other people since he worries that it makes him appear more fragile (at least more than he already is).

Dolly hates taking the blame when something is his fault, often shouldering it aside instead. He does not want to come face-to-face with the reality that people can see he isn't as perfect as he looks. Dolly is very hedonistic. He is very much one to take stupid risks either to be petty or just to have fun. He is outwardly promiscuous because he is tired of being ashamed of himself, and also enjoys the power it gives him. He enjoys the security he feels that comes with having control over things. He knows he's pretty and will use it to his advantage if needed, but thankfully he doesn't try to manipulate people. He is a surprisingly lonely person, only really forging relationships to fool around instead of committing to people. Commitment scares him, but he does yearn for security in both platonic and romantic relationships. He is also rather emotionally immature, so his wants don't align with his needs, and he is constantly struggling against this.

A R M O R & W E A P O N R Y

---

Handheld Electrical Discouragement Device (HEDD) is a battery operated taser issued typically for self-defense. Its purpose is to non-lethally stun assailants.


Artificial retinal enhancements. Born with albinism, his eyesight was rather poor for many years. Before these enhancements, Dolly's eyes shook from nystagmus, and he was sensitive to light. Now he is able to keep his eyes stable, view bright lights, and even see sharply in dim environments.

Pitch recognition & inner ear protection implants. Being a musical performer, his hearing is a crucial part of what he does. Exposure to loud environments can greatly damage hearing, so these devices protect the inner ear. They are similar in design to cochlear implants, and can be removed at any time for any reason. As an added bonus, they can help recognize the pitch of sounds to those born without absolute pitch.

Vocal Expansion Cords. This device is small and unseen, as it lies beneath the tissue. It is an implant in the larynx that can expand a person’s vocal range. Dolly has one so that he may sing at a soprano pitch without risk of vocal cracks or damage. Although he can shift his voice to almost any pitch at will, he prefers to speak with his “natural” voice.

S K I L L S

---

Dolly is a trained vocalist and multi-instrumentalist. He’s most notably seen playing the bass or electric guitar. He knows a thing or two about music theory, too. When does flattery cross into outright manipulation? He isn’t sure. But he’s gotten pretty good at convincing people to give him what he wants.

R E L A T I O N S

---

Parents
Leonard Harper, Dolly’s father. He wouldn’t say it, but he’s always been a bit ashamed of his son’s fragility…and career choice. He and Dolly never really saw eye-to-eye, but that was probably because he was never home due to work. He died about 2 years ago from a workplace accident.

Bella Harper is a teacher at Graham Hill. She loves her job, but it really doesn’t pay much. Dolly used to think his mom was the coolest, sweetest lady as a kid. Now he feels conflicted about her, as she was the one primarily coddling him, so much to the point where she homeschooled him herself. He wished she didn’t. They don’t talk much anymore.

Siblings
Augustine Harper is the eldest sibling at 30 and is the only sister. She moved out of Seattle when in her older 20’s to marry and pursue her career. She had children, meaning Dolly is technically an uncle, but he’s sure he’s only met them once or twice.

Beau Harper is Dolly’s fraternal twin brother. He, unlike Dolly, shows no traits of albinism. He’s the strongest of the two and has always been protective over his brother. The two were close as children but drifted apart from a lack of interests in their teen years. Beau is often mistaken as an older brother. They haven’t spoken to each other since an argument at their father’s funeral.

Friends
Hiro Kimura is a tall, tired man that’s 22 years old. To make things short and sweet: he’s a loser. That’s why Dolly likes him. Dolly doesn’t have to act peppy, cute, or upbeat around him- hell, he doesn’t even have to talk. They usually get noodles together once a week. Hiro works as a mechanic. They met in high school.

Buck Anderlow is 23 years old and a fellow musical artist. He and Dolly collaborate often. The public is under the impression that they’re best friends, but they can barely stand each other when left alone in a room together. Dolly thinks he’s annoying, overbearing, and way too open about wanting to sleep with him. He gives Dolly the creeps. Buck actually wants to try and be close to him, but it really isn’t happening.

Other
Shepard Dagenhart is Dolly’s manager and producer. They work for the same record label that Nigel owns. Dolly finds them irritating, as they tend to shut down his creative decisions in favor of doing what’ll make more money.

Nigel Vordaunt is twice Dolly’s age and generally scummy. The two met at the Electric Rose when he was about nineteen, and Nigel offered to sponsor his music career to get him out of there. Their relationship is extremely questionable, and Dolly is visibly afraid of him, but nobody’s bothered to do anything about it. Nigel sees Dolly as a pretty face and an important money-making asset. He’s a cut-throat businessman in the entertainment industry.

H I S T O R Y

---

Dolly’s history is a smidge complicated. Never at any point in his life was he just a “normal kid”. Born with albinism and a few other health issues, he’s always been a pale and sickly child- especially since his parents couldn’t afford most treatment. They were very protective of him, because why wouldn’t they be? He was a lonely little kid, as he was primarily homeschooled until the age of 11.

He didn’t have the greatest time in middle school, though. He was a poorly socialized, short kid with barely any money. He spent a lot of his time hiding in the band room to avoid becoming a target. This was where he found his love for music- arguably his only source of comfort at this point. He joined the chorus class with enthusiasm.

In high school he was seen less as “that weird scrawny kid” and more of a subject of pity. Unlike his peers, he never hit his growth spurt. This was also around the time he found out that he was very much queer, so it was a rollercoaster and a half to go through. Perpetually infantized and filled with gay angst, he went with his only option: start a band. It was fun and gave his life more structure, but the band split not long after graduation. It was weird. His small friend group pretty much dissipated and ditched music for other careers.

Dolly wanted to continue his musical journey, but that required having money- and any other job required skills. He shrugged, swallowed his pride, and got into various forms of adult entertainment. It was supposed to be a temporary endeavor, but he wasn’t prepared for how cruel the industry could be. Stripped of his dignity (and clothes), he was practically begging to get out when he was found by Nigel Vordaunt.

Nigel found Dolly entertaining. He became a sort of friend to the pretty young man. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was the consequences of his poor actions, but Dolly accepted a sort of sponsorship from him. It was a less-than-legal deal that required Dolly to become a sort of industry plant. He happily signed away the rights of his free time, music, and soul. Somewhere in his heart, Dolly always dreamed of being famous. It felt achievable in that moment, so of course he said yes.

The next two years of Dolly’s life had become, somehow, even more nightmarish. Nigel had revealed himself to be a verbally, sexually, and sometimes physically abusive control-freak. Dolly performs on stage for the masses mostly out of fear. He is faced with the threat of being replaced with a cybercom almost daily. Normally, he’d be completely content with being fired, but that would leave him homeless. Nigel managed to wedge himself between Dolly and his family, and he was quietly disowned. He lives exclusively for concert afterparties nowadays.

C Y B E R C O M

---

Blossom is an anthropomorphic rabbit-like android given to Dolly by Nigel. She is less “awake” than most other cybercoms, with no real personality other than to do what she is told. She often accompanies Dolly in stage performances and is somewhat of a mascot. She, like her owner, is small. Excluding the ears, she is about 3’2. Dolly doesn’t seem to like her much. Still, she follows him almost everywhere.

Perf's Artistic Menagerie

New RP character

Violet Sheep Happy Hunting: A Cyberpunk Game

Time: 7:45 A.M. - 9:15 A.M.
Loc: D’alessio Penthouse - The road to Bell Street Park, somewhere
@: N/A
Interactions: King Tal, Edward
Equipment: Several bags of dice, gummy bears, and a portable toolkit

---

Toby was awoken not five seconds ago, barely slumped upright in the nest of pillows and blankets that was his bed. A figure stood at his doorway and was saying…something. They registered as words, but the kid was far too dazed to try and comprehend any of it. He merely squinted at the sudden light, slack-jawed. With an unamused groan of pure misery, he half-fell and half-rolled into his covers, burying his face in them in the process. FInally, something clicked. Language became coherent again.

“Bud, get up. We’ve gotta be out of here by 9 latest.”

But why? He was supposed to leave for school at 8- Oh, this wasn’t for school, huh? His frazzled mind managed to finally recall that today was FRIDAY, and his dad had some dumb luncheon that he had to go to as well, because… Hell if he knew why. Toby peeled his face from the bed and looked at whoever was in his doorway. It was his dad. He wasn't used to his father waking him up for anything. Usually that was King Tal’s job. Where was Tal, anyway? Wherever the cybercom was and why his father was there were questions that would be answered later, as the man vanished from view after seeing that his son was awake.

Toby slipped off of the mattress, as we would any other day. His sandy-blonde hair, which was curly enough to form short ringlets on a good day, was taking a form more akin to a bird’s nest. Despite wearing an oversized graphic tee and a pair of plaid PJ pants, he immediately shivered after leaving the warm confines of his bed. Ugh…if only he could sleep for a bit longer. It was warm and he was still tired... Maybe staying up and playing Wrath of the Vale Hunter with Noah was a bad idea. What? He’d pre-ordered the game about three months ago. Of course, he was going to stay up all night once it was available for download. Anyway, he retreated from standing on the frigid tile floor to the small carpet by a nightstand. His VR headset was haphazardly laying on its surface. He’d plug that in later…A knock at the door interrupted his morning thoughts.

“Come in,” Toby answered through a yawn that felt like it was going to make his jaw fall right out of skull.

King Talgorthus The Great, or just King Tal, was behind the door. The pane of lightweight metal slid into the wall as the cybercom entered. While some people enjoyed human-like or animal cybercom companions, Toby had one modeled after his favorite D&D character, a dragonborn fighter by the same name. The android had the face of a dragon, covered in plates of lustrous, gold-hued metal to mimic scales. The rest of his body was built to mimic heavy armor with the traditional look of the olden days, but with a more modern twist. It was flexible, lighter, and stronger than any steel alloy used in the past. Because of these design choices, King Tal clinged and clanged from place-to-place while making only half the noise a knight from the Middle Ages would.

“Good morning, sir,” the dragon greeted. He bowed deeply in the presence of his owner. King Tal’s voice had the guttural texture expected of a dragon, along with a hint of an English accent.

Toby gave a grin that made his eyes almost scrunch closed. The pudginess of his face was only accentuated by this action and his lack of visible front teeth. "Tal! What's up?"

"It's 7:45 AM, the temperature is 35° Fahrenheit, and the weather calls for scattered showers throughout the day. You have 1 new message from Noah Fraiser." With that, a hologram screen projected from King Tal’s chest to display a written message from Noah that read: hey dumbass is it game day today?

“Shit!” Toby had completely forgotten about that. Yes, today was supposed to be gameday for the Robotics Club Campaign. Of course, he was the designated Dungeon Master. Games started right after school, usually in Dr. Peterson’s room. “Uh, tell him yeah.”

One small problem: he was going to miss most if not all of school because of his dad’s stupid event. To make matters worse, the cybercom handed his owner a neatly folded pile of clothes. It was a suit, deep navy in color. Looking at it made Toby’s nose wrinkle.

“I’m not wearing that,” he blurted out.

“Your father stated there was a dress code.”

“Son of a bitch. Okay.” With disdain, the boy took the suit and plunged his free hand into a dresser drawer to grab whatever else he needed. “See ya, King.”

The dragonborn bowed as Toby vanished into his own private bathroom. The space inside rivaled that of some of the apartments that the Surplus lived in. It had two sinks, a shower (with a bench in it!), and a jacuzzi tub that was largely unused. An empty terrarium lay within its porcelain depths. It belonged to a long dead pet. Toby grabbed a toothbrush and shoved it into his mouth before starting up the shower.

8:15 A.M.

“Toby, put your teeth back in!”

“Son of a bitch,” the kid grumbled with his heavy lisp.

“Language.”

“Sorry-”

His small, yet round hand swiped at the marble countertop to snatch up a pair of shiny white teeth. He bet he was the only kid in the entire city who had to wear dentures like some wrinkly grandma. He wore a simple, partial denture for his central incisors because he was still waiting for his adult teeth to come in. His dad said he looked goofy without a full set of chompers, so he’d been pretty much forced to wear them since he was about seven. The kid popped in his faux teeth, clicked them into place, and went back to focusing on the video King Tal was projecting. It was a news report about an accident at the airport. Apparently, there were several casualties. Wild.

The feeling of having a suit, albeit perfectly fitted to him, along with constantly having his dad tell him what to do was putting Toby into one of his moods. There was also the matter that he had to gel his hair down to “style it”. He perched his dark green beanie atop his hair in an act of defiance, along with pulling at the collar of the powder blue button-up he had on underneath the blazer. There rested a bowtie- a real one. He wished it was a clip-on, but noooo. What was even more irritating about it was the fact that he had to tie it himself. It took him far too many tries than he would’ve liked to admit. He reached for the half-eaten croissant sandwich that was lying on a plate next to a glass of OJ. Despite having food-safe dentures, Toby still bit and chewed with the corner of his mouth. Force of habit.

“No hats,” D’alessio senior chided before walking into another room to grab something. Probably a dumb briefcase for his dumb job.

“I’m EATING!”

9:15 A.M.

Toby, King, his father, and Ella (another cybercom that was essentially a maid) were all piling into a car together. Toby opted to seat himself by King Tal and as far away from his father as possible. Edwards wasn’t driving, anyway. They were netters, so naturally they had their own chauffeur. He actually found it a bit funny, seeing that once on the main streets, all vehicles pretty much drove themselves.

“You used to love coming to these events with me.”

Toby fought the urge to roll his eyes at the broken silence. “When I was like five. I have school now.”

“School, really, Tobes? You barely got a C on your last Language Arts test.”

“I’m telling you; Mrs. Rofella is conspiring against me to bring down my GPA! I studied- I swear.”

Toby huffed and then rested his chin in a hand. He had positioned himself in his seat to get a full view out of the window so he could stare out of it and into the cityscape. Really, he wasn’t admiring the view. Instead, he was giving his old man a wicked side-eye by staring down the reflection of the back of his head. No, he didn’t study for the stupid Language Arts test, but he wasn’t lying about Mrs. Rofella disliking him. He knew what an adverb was, and he knew how pronouns worked, he just couldn’t be bothered to answer the essay questions. He had a campaign to write! On that topic, he was supposed to run a session with the robotics club this afternoon in Homeroom.

“What time will it be over? I’m supposed to have club today.”

“You really want to go to school today, huh?”

“I guess…”

Toby didn’t like school all that much, but he liked club and he liked his friends. It beat staying at home with his dad after this breakfast…lunch…brunch…luncheon thing was over. He didn’t care for the semantics of the event, so long as he got fed. That croissant wasn’t going to hold him off forever. He’d stashed a pack of gummy bears in his pocket, but those were for later. He hoped his dad would cave and let him go back whenever it was all over. His dad was always the type to let things slide. Even now he'd stopped bugging Toby over the beanie he wore to cover his slicked back hair.

Perf's Artistic Menagerie

I fucking love vecna

Perf's Artistic Menagerie

I dont really have an excuse other than that he's easy to draw i guess but like....mouse furry lmao

I'm putting this hider here for "artistic nudity" but like honestly it's really not that bad. full disclosure: i just think drawing clothes is hard and I need to work on my proportions