@feralglory-archive-blog / feralglory-archive-blog.tumblr.com
WAR READY, BORN READY. an indie rp group verse that follows eight mutants as they fight for their lives against a nameless corporation. they’ll leave behind everything they’ve ever known, everyone they’ve ever loved, for one last chance at survival.
i really really really fucked up so i’m putting che on hiatus even though i’m never here? but i can’t use him right now. i’m probably gonna make a new muse/revamp an old one maybe idk yet i feel... nothing, empty, disgusted with myself etc
i’ll link if i go through with it.
attention me
|| @nahyuins stopped by.
“ ---- no.”
so... i apologize for being so flighty and bad with IMs and replies lol forgive me
James has a big head. Metaphorically. Physically his head looks like a garden pea hotglued onto a dorito, but that’s not important. He doesn’t like to be told what to do in any given situation. Even moreso when he’s drunk. He looks over Chester with an expression that can only be described as disgust. Pure, unadulterated repugnance. He pays no notice to Daisie, who stands visibly shaken, beer dripping from her hair. From the point of her chin. Down the length of her neck and gathering at her (lack of) cleavage. She still has her own cup, half full, James snatches it and it’s half empty. “Who the fuck are you Dido?” his reference is outdated. He expects a laugh or six but no one does. Not even Daisie. She’s closer to tears than anything else. It doesn’t look good. It takes him a minute. Mr tall, dark, and fucking stupid finally realizes who chester is. He laughs. A deep rumble, right from his chest. “why? What do you care?” he slings his arm around Daisie. He’s stronger than he thinks, he never seems to realize being so heavy handed doesn’t come without its setbacks. Her lips part, she vocalizes discomfort, like a mouse squeaking under the boot of an exterminator. He doesn’t care. Pulls her closer against him until she’s tucked neatly under his arm as if it was a wing, and he was there to do nothing but protect her. “she ain’t embarassed–” even if she was she’d never open her mouth to admit it. “are ya dais?” she’s scared. She nods small. Blinking back the tears. If asked she’ll just say the sun is in her eyes. He drinks the last of whats in her cup and crumples it. “Get your nose out of other peoples business” he throws the cup and it bounces off of Chesters chest. He thinks its funny. Daisie looks a cross between apologetic and terrified. “don’t you have kids to kill?”
Don’t do it, Chester, don’t you fuckin’ do it. Swear to God. It only took one stupid comment and he can feel the rage just climbing up, it starts at his feet wrapping around his legs like vines and it grows grows and grows ‘til it reaches his head. He could kill James. He could kill James and his lackeys without breaking a sweat, throw a towel at Daisie and go home to have a drink by himself contemplating why he came back in the first place.
At least Chester knows now he wasn’t that chump before he went into the service. His girlfriends actually liked him. His friends thought he was really funny -- because he was. He was fuckin’ hilarious once upon a time, he loved to make people laugh. And he has vague memories of a girl who looks just like Daise, except younger, reluctantly laughing at his idiocy, the elbow of his sister jabbing into his side. This isn’t that same girl, and if she is, he doesn't recognize her.
He doesn’t even know what to say. Focusing all his energy on not driving his fist into James’ face - ironic enough since they box at the same gym. It’s inevitable that they spare eventually, Coach likes doing that. He forces out a laugh, unaffected is what he’s aiming for. “You really don’t get it do you?” He can’t, not if James is this dumb.
starter for: @feralglory > dallas + chester.
her gaze was fixated on the clock over the bar , watching as the time ticked by whilst she counted the time she spent on her break . she turns her head to the side , coming to face the guy sat nearest to her as she extends a hand to nudge at their forearm , aiming to gain their attention . ‘ i’ll give you a free dance if you buy me my next drink . ‘ she sounds awfully cheap considering the hundreds of bucks she’d bagged the past few hours , but she was never a fan of spending her earnings at work .
“You work here? Why do you have to pay?” What kind of establishment is this? But then again, nothing in life is free but it’s ridiculous since she works there. “I’ll add you to my tab no dance needed.” He finishes his in one go and shakes his head, pointing to both them once he’s gotten the bartender’s attention. “You know...” he’s talking to her now, “if I owned a strip club? Dancers drink free - but they have a limit for bar drinks because I can’t have my talent puking on the stage but if she sneaks a bottle of something in her bag on her way in? How am I supposed to know that? Sooooo my strippers would get six bar drinks tops from the bar and if they don't like it? Beat the system -- order double with no ice and it’ll go straight to your head.”
i am so inconsistent with my icon sizes/style
She responded before she could catch the sarcasm in his voice and playfully punched his arm. Flinching, Hyeri frowned at him, rolling her eyes at his comment. “Then when do you listen to my music? And you better not say when you’re pooping or else we are no longer friends,” she pouted, letting him take control of the music and his ‘flow’ which honestly was no different than what she had put on first.
“When it comes on shuffle,” he answers honestly. He’s got the music he enjoys listening to but he also has an open ear for all genres. Her music is great. He drives the familiar streets to the restaurant. as the music plays. “I’m going to drop a fire mixtape for the summer, “you gonna support the boy?”
She looked over at the other art piece and nodded. “The dark hues of blue make me feel lost yet I feel like it would be okay,” Gabi explained looking up at the other. “C’mon just try it–there is no right answer anyway.” The brunette said touching his arm encouraging him to give it ago. “It doesn’t even have to make sense.”
“If I were high right now I’d sound like a seasoned art critic or something but I just...” he feels really inferior, stupid because he can’t understand the art. Especially in front of a beautiful young woman. “It’s a bunch of colors...”
you ain’t ｃｏｏｌｅｒ than her;
Seconds tick by with no response. When it turns into minutes she leaves the warmth of the car, pockets her phone and lets the cold kiss her skin in ways she wished he would. The walk back doesn’t take long, two minutes at most before she’s back inside, surrounded by both familiar and foreign faces, none of which the one she wants to look at. “Daisie–” the voice of her manager pulls her out of a daze. He drapes an arm across her shoulders and leans in close to peck a kiss to her cheek. “you did great out there” he’s always smiling when he sees her, even more when she replies with a simple “I know” he’s lectured her about saying ‘thank you’ before but she never listens to him. Prying herself away from him Daisie takes a seat at the bar, lifts her hand and signals to be served.
Drink in hand she lifts it to her mouth. Her lips kiss around the rim leaving an imprint of her lipstick behind and suddenly she’s thinking about how he would look covered in her lipstick marks. His jaw, neck, chest. She squeezes her eyes shut and laughs airly. Pull yourself together Daisie. He might not even show. She’s not religious, but she’s praying he does.
When his name flashes across the screen of her phone she smiles. Lets it ring. Once, twice, three times. This is a game afterall. When she thinks it’s rang enough she answers the phone nonchalantly. “Hey rockstar” the sound of her own song playing in the background almost seems obnoxious but she’s sure he’ll understand it wasn’t her choice. Toying with a stray lock of curled hair she smiles into the phone. “what are you wearing?” she’s half joking, but most certainly expects him to answer. If he did show up, she wanted to be able to spot him.
“Back at you.” He’s not humble like she is, he knows he’s a rockstar, that the world knows he’s a rockstar. He enjoys the worship of his fans and the money it brings him. Daisie is a rock star too, or he wouldn’t associate himself with her. That’s a joke. Che truly does believe Daisie is more talented than she realizes. He wonders if she’ll ever hear her own music the way he hears it. Probably not.
“Why don’t you come outside and find out?” With that he hangs up, a second late his phone showing him all the texts his girlfriend and the occasional one from one of the guys or the manager asking if he’s dead. One text sticks out like a sore thumb.
we can’t keep covering up for you, pick one.
Now, that is not fair at all. This is a complicated situation and everyone knows it. Why try and guilt him like this? He doesn’t respond to any of the texts. Actually, he’s going to really piss them off - he takes a quick video, under thirty seconds of the night sky, Daisie’s song playing through the building loud enough to be heard outside. He posts it for all to see on their phones on one of his vertified social media accounts.
As strange as it seems, she’s used to strangers crying in front of her, and occassionally on her. It comes with the job title. When he’s all cried out she uses her thumb to swipe away the wetness that had accumalted across his cheeks. Her heart aches for him, all she can think about is how hard it must be for him, she hasn’t visited how hard it’s going to be for her. if she did, she might have just cried with him.
She rises when he does, grunting quietly as she attempts to hold up the weight of him, keep him upright even when he wobbles, because that’s what she’s there for now. To be his pillar of support. “There we go–” she takes a mental note to at least try to go to the gym more often before pushing the idea completely out of her head. Wrapping the length of her fingers around his hip she directs him to the open plan kitchen, but stops at the thermostat along the way. She figures maybe he’ll be more comfortable if the place was warmer, and so even though she likes it cold,she cranks it up. “give it a few minutes to kick in, you’ll feel warmer” she has to explain because she figures he doesn’t have a clue what she just did, and she doesn’t need him feeling threatened.
Moving behind him, she pushes down at his shoulders, making him sit in the chair she’d pulled out from the table, and then moves to sit on the table in front of him. Legs crossed, elbows resting atop her knees. “What do you want to eat?” she finds herself staring at him. She’s just taking him in. “what did you eat.. before?” she doesn’t know if she should order a pizza or feed him raw meat. Heck, maybe he enjoyed dumpster diving every once in a while and cookies were his favourite find.
He stares back at her from where she sits on the table. He doesn’t know how or what to say except for “food.” He has to translate Korean to Wolf to English back to Korean to answer her and that’s going to be very very difficult. He usually ate whatever he could, smaller animals that could never stand a chance out in those woods without a family to protect them. Sometimes he went to other woods in different areas of the country just to keep his scent from being tracked from only one place.
What did he eat before? “Food.” He answers her second question. He opens his mouth, once, twice. He thinks he can eat the word out - “meat.” He wasn’t too keen on dumpsters, for Woohyuk the risk was too big to go out that close to the humans, in his wolf form no one would see him as a cute dog they can take home and domesticate, he’d get put down with a tranq gun and that would be the end of that (being dead sounds better than being forced back into a human, he’ll never forgive that pack for it.)
“Food... meat.” He’s finally feeling the temperature of the room rise much to his comfort.
Sejin might have been sweet and kind, but she was by no means stupid nor naive. She knew that she shouldn’t be so quick to trust her new acquaintance, no matter how pretty he was. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that I don’t know you?” She offered, masking her uneasiness with a joke, laughter quickly following suit just to drive it home. “Besides, I don’t really think my friends would appreciate me accepting a stranger’s offer to go to a party.” She wasn’t too sure if that would be true or not. Mina, depending on her mood, could give two completely different answers, while Jieun usually just went along with whatever they decided to do. She was along for the ride just as long as they were all together.
“Wait - you’re inviting me to a party when you don’t even know the location?” Her suspicions rose, but against her better judgment, she found herself reaching her hand out to pick up the piece of paper, her eyes scanning the digits written across it. “I don’t even know if I have anything to wear..” She mumbled, more so to herself as she pulled out her phone and began saving his information to her device. She decided to send him a quick text message so he could save her number too. Sejin, it read, with a smiley face emoji and a heart next to it. “Now you have my number too.”
“Bring your friends with you.” Problem solved. “My friends will be with me, your friends will be with you. As long as you save me twenty minutes of your time to let me get to know you better.” She is so damn fine, it’s so unreal and his stoned brain can’t compute. “Oh my fuckin’ God man...” he shakes his head, torturing himself to look at her face again. “You could wear anything and make it work.” What if they got married one day and wore matching Gucci tracksuits? He put both his hands over his mouth, “wow.”
A triumphant fist pump for himself at the ding of his phone, he wastes no time texting her back, nonsensical ramblings with entirely too many emojis after random words. “I really can’t wait to see you later.” After he figures out where this damn party is supposed to be.
If she tries hard enough, most days she can fool herself into believing she loves him. If she tries hard enough she can fool herself into believing he loves her back. Truth is she doesn’t love him, she feels like she owes him, and he doesn’t love her either, but he likes having the eye candy on his arm. On the outside, they’re a happily family, behind closed doors it’s a different story. Recently the bad only seems to have gotten worse.
With a large red solo cup in hand, James tugs daisie by the fabric of her skirt closer to his side. She laughs off the embarassment that comes with it. Presented to two other boxers, she is expected to smile and laugh at their jokes. She does for the most part. Every now and then stealing glances around at the other guests. Her gaze falls upon a familiar face, and she smiles genuinley in chesters direction, even lifts a hand in a small wave. “Are you even paying attention dais?” James interjects, slapping her hand out of the air. She flinches away from him outwardly shocked, but inside, not so much. This was nothing. “S-sorry” she hates what he’s turned her into.
He stands a good head or two taller than her, muscles prominent. He asks a girl to feel his biceps in a flirtatious manner whilst Daisie sips on her drink. Small hands tug at his shirt to signal for him to stop, but she daren’t open her mouth. “what d’ya want daisie fucksake?” he seems annoyed. She lets go of his shirt and he laughs, turning to his ‘friends’ “can’t keep her hands off me this one.” he looks down at her, a hand slapping at her ass once, loud. It stings. His drink sloshes in his cup. He mumbles something vulgar but it’s loud enough for most to hear. She grins and bears it until he finds it fit to divulge his friends in their bedroom behaviour. “Oppa–” quiet, she doesn’t like talking to him when he’s like this. He turns to glare at her again. She can smell the alcohol on his breath. “let’s go home” he’s making a scene, she’s supposed to make sure he doesn’t do that because he can’t seem to do it himself.
“want me that bad?” he laughs, fingers slipping under the band of her skirt until she swats his hand away, gathering enough courage to finally talk back. “You’re drunk James.” he doesn’t like that. One second he’s smiling the next he’s fuming. He angles his cup towards her and throws the contents over her. “go home” he punctuates by shoving her shoulder just hard enough that she stumbles over her own feet. His friends snicker. No strangers to his behaviour.
It’s when she smiles at him that he remembers how he knows her face. He wonders if he was ever that guy and he didn’t even know it. Head the biggest part of him with nothing to match. James is for a lack of a better word, a chump. Ever wonder how a child grows up to a chump? Is it from the sins of the father - thought that fell onto the daughter so... no. Sin isn’t the right word for this particular theory.
Let’s use actions, yes. Sin is a verb but it’s not THE verb for this. It gives it the wrong connotation. Do the actions of the father fall onto the son? Was this chump raised by a chump so he’s merely copying what he was conditioned into thinking was normal when he was young?
Or did his mom fill his head with lies when he was young, tangled in some weird Oedipus complex, hating his deadbeat dad that never hugged him? Che actually doesn’t know nor does he care, he just really hopes he was never like this back when he actually had friends.
Seeing James slap Daisie’s hand down startles him, beer sloshes over the rim of his cup and splashes on his sneakers. It’s a heads up to finish his cup, gulping down the rest of his beer he mulls over his options. He needs friends, he needs to be around people so he doesn’t shut himself in but ruining an already established (so many things changed while he was overseas) dynamic on a team is not the way to do that. Because Che knows he’s the only one brave enough to say something, he’s still the new guy in his own damn neighborhood.
“Stop.” He doesn’t make his voice any louder than it needs to be, he’s never had an issue with gaining the command of a crowd, drunken listeners or not. He walks over to them eyes flickering over the guys he’s somewhat grown to have a kinship with, looking at James last. “You’re drunk, man. Why don’t you take it easy with the hops eh?” He’s got his palms upward out in front of him - he isn’t looking for a fight - “you really gonna embarrass your girl like that?”
