15 (have any pets?), 52 (do you believe everything happens for a reason?), 62 (what makes you happy?)
15:Have any pets?
“No, never. My brothers weren’t exactly kind to animals growing up: there was a mouse that lived in my room in NYC, and I left out food for him, but that doesn’t really count as a pet.”
52:Do you believe everything happens for a reason?
“No, definitely not. I think random shit just get thrown at us and we have to cope as best we can.”
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I’d like to give a shoutout to @theblessednavigator: you’re always a joy to rp with! your interpretation of Gil’s character remains striking and engaging to rp alongside, and your headcanons are always interesting and inventive. While your Gil is certainly retiring, he’s not boring!
I’ve only done one roleplay with you, but I would love to do more, as your Gil is one of the most interesting and original characters that I’ve gotten to roleplay with!
➏ (what’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse?)
✩ Interview with a Mun ✩
Mmmm let’s see what else...Big sister Cosette is bad ass and being her is a source of power for me. She so strong and willing to do things no matter the danger. Even with her slight, ok not slight, mental issues she does power threw them to do what she thinks she needs to do which also is another thing that helps me. If you can’t tell I use her to basically make me feel better about myself and I get things done in rl with the encouragement from her.
Jack giggled. Mr. Gilbert always made him giggle. Giggle and smile and beam up at him with glowing blue eyes. The boy liked the man, even if he creeped other people out sometimes. Mr. Gilbert was nicer than people anyway. People treated Jack like an object (probably because he was made of metal and synthetic material) and Mr. Gilbert didn’t.
“Do all evil genius’ make pancakes?”
The semi-transparent adult didn’t even pause to think, only pointed at the android-child with a wooden spoon. “Of course they do. What else WOULD they do?”
Jack shrugged and dipped a finger in the multi-colored batter. Sucking the goo off, he wondered if when it cooked each color would taste different. He wondered what a normal pancake tasted like. Wondered if anyone but Mr. Gilbert knew he could taste at all.
“I made you a thing!” The boy said excitedly around the finger still in his mouth. He ran off and came back a movement later with a scarf. It was longer than any scarf should be, nearly the boys height when folded in half. Moreover it was clearly only a first or second attempt at knitting; holes where loops were missed, and odd curves where the boy had not kept the lines straight. All one color because to change half way through would have been too difficult. Still, he held it up proudly.
“It’s a scarf! You can wear it when it’s cold, or when people are giving you mean looks so that they can see that you’re better than them cause you have a scarf and they don’t.” Jack grinned. “I’m an evil genius too! But I make scarfs instead of pancakes.”
Hector looked down to see his own botched handwriting scrawled across an all-too-familiar script for Cohen’s latest masterpiece - a script that he was only slightly pleased to see in Gil’s hand.
Damn... It was time to start working on his lines again.
“Yeah, that’s mine. That’s definitely mine- thanks for finding it. My stage manager will be happy I - I mean you- found it again.”
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Jack took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the glass a moment. Hopefully no one would find him here. The man had been curious, for one, and concerned, for another. There was a whole part of the city he’d not seen before. Practically half of it cut off and sealed up. Well, sealed up for anyone who didn’t have the genetic code to work every single piece of machinery in the city. Rapture could be locked up tight and the key thrown away, and Jack Ryan would still be maneuvering Bathyspheres where he wanted to go.
He opened his eyes, squinting into the gloom. The only real source of light seemed to be the red tube he was leaning against. It cast strange shadows and left him more than a little uncomfortable. He’d been screamed at for being not part of the family. What family he had no idea. He’d been attacked by girl-shaped Big Daddy’s while he was saving Little Sisters. Not to mention the announcements from Dr Lamb for the People.
“Maybe I should have stayed on my half.” Jack muttered to, he hoped, no one. As soon as he was done finding the girls he would scram. No he wouldn't. “Who am I kidding? These people need me as much as the other Splicers do.” He sighed and pushed away from the glass. “Alright, so, where are the lights? We’ll get some power up first and then worry about what’s next. Right, Jack? Right.”
~I had to pick a new book. I just couldn’t make the last one work~
New Book: The Portable Dante Edited by Mark MusaFrom Inferno
“No green leaves, but rather black in color,no smooth branches, but twisted and entangled,no fruit, but thorns of poison bloomed instead.”
Amelia closed her eyes tightly. Held them closed and covered them with her dirty hands. It was wrong. All wrong. All of it was wrong, wrong, wrong. She knew what the world was. It was bright and gold and shiny. It had waterfalls and toys and thick curtains and angels. It had statues of her Daddy and it had people in pretty masks.
This wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare.
She screamed, the sound bouncing off the steal walls and glass windows. She was only 10. 12? 8? How old was she? Why wasn’t her Daddy here? Where was Mr. Bubbles to save her from the Monster of a dream.
“DADDY!” The child cried, eyes still closed tightly. A warm hand was on her shoulder and she pressed toward the warmth of the body. Her eyes still covered. Her Daddy would save her. Mr. Be saved all the good girls. And she was a good girl. She was.
“Shhhh…” A voice murmured. She didn’t recognize it but she didn’t care either. The person was being nice. It was a warm person who was rubbing her back gently. It would be ok. Amy just had to find her Daddy.
Gilbert knew, though the girl didn’t yet, that the Big Daddy’s had abandoned her. She was too old. They didn’t recognize her now. She would have to do like the other girls her age had done. Put on a suit. Protect themselves. Poor things.
She was so tired. Minerva had no idea just how far she had traveled but it still didn't feel far enough. Not because she thought her mother would come after but because everything still felt familiar. But alas her body would not let her walk any further. She took the heavy pack off her shoulders and let her back lean against the nearest tree before sliding down to sit on the grass. Her lids fluttered shut as she rested there. She didn't know how long she had slept but the sun was starting to set. When her eyes finally opened back up she sat it. She didn't quite know what it was but there was a good chance it bode well for her. The pink creature wasn't looking at her so she slowly started to stand up. Her movements were painfully slow as she made her way back to a standing position. Her eyes only left it for a second to grab her bag. After grabbing her bag she looked back up and it was looking at her. She froze.
