#afraidyouredying

I know that sometimes I ask to RP but then never respond to that starter you so kindly wrote for me.

I know that sometimes you ask to RP and if I do respond, I take a long time and then seem distant and disinterested (this is not true)

I know that I RP with my own blogs A LOT. I have struggled to write the ideas as pure fics and writing them as RPs helps to break it down enough to write.

I know that I RP with people, then seemingly stop out of nowhere. Either I lost the response and am too ashamed to ask for the link, or I get caught up in my stories, or I worry I’m bothering people.

I know that none of you deserve to be treated with anything but complete respect.

I’m sure its put people off from approaching me, or talking to me and that’s 100% fair. I just hope that you can accept my apology for this.

RP is something I am struggling to regain from an ex-friend who kind of tainted the experience for me. I am not comfortable to share the details, nor offering this as an excuse for my bahviour but hope it can in some small way help to explain my attitude towards RPing.

Thank you for following me. Thank you if you reach out. Thank you if you don’t. Thank you for being patient.

Eric waited for a few minutes, wanting to be sure that Iain was definitely checked out before he hung up the call. Satisfied that it had worked, he shut off the call and returned to his seat, opening his journal to a fresh page and writing.

Eric knew what Iain was trying to say and he paused in thought for a moment. Part of him felt Iain deserved a few bad dreams, just to remember exactly where he stood in this professional relationship. Especially since it was a very real thing for a fake man to do. Made him more convincing, more believable. However, if Iain was going to be of use, he needed to forget and he couldn’t risk the nightmares might leave a hole for memories to bleed through. That would be counterproductive.

“You should probably lie down if you aren’t already Iain.”

Eric chuckled, lowering himself back into his seat, closing his journal, speaking calmly and clearly into the phone.

There it was. Letting out a slow breath, Eric carefully made his way back to his desk, opening his journal to the page he’d written on the previous evening. It had all come to pass.

‘The existential dread slowly began to overwhelm Iain as he came to realise the futility of the lie he took solace in; his life. With each passing moment, more and more of the fake world around him began to crumble away, as it had before, though this was a thousand times worse. At his lowest point, unobserved by his roommate, he contacted his creator, an unknown act of loyalty towards the man to whom he owed his very existence. After this call, there would be no doubt over where his loyalty truly lied.’

Running his fingers down the passage as he read it again, Eric spoke much calmer now, now that he knew that Iain was one hundred percent loyal to him, whether he wanted to be or not.

It was obvious in his quiet voice and not so quiet tears that Iain was broken, Eric’s lips curling up at the corners and his stern voice dissipating instantly, replaced by one of faux concern and consdescension.