“Numericalassassin and Phaselockandload are probably the two biggest new inspirations since joining Tumblr to better my roleplaying. They were some of the first to welcome me into the Borderlands fandom and have remained a constant source of awesome muse power for me. Whenever they are on I just get excited. Even if they aren’t roleplaying with me.”
[This is super sweet. <333 I really wish I had more time to play with everyone. This is my favorite fandom and everyone here is awesome. ]
He was being impulsive again, doing the very thing that had gotten him kicked out of his pod, banished and doomed to death alone in the planet-wide ocean. The anxiety caused by his touch washed over him and he paused, head tilted as he just ‘listened’ to the swirling of her emotions. Confusion and matching curiosity seemed to be the strongest, with underlying anxiety and nerves. He made her nervous.
Well she made him kinda nervous too.
He flinches slightly when she reaches out and her hand hovers over the marked side of his head and face but he doesn’t pull away. Logically he knows she has no way of knowing what they mean, what he’s done, but he can’t help the sense that seeing was as good as knowing. His free hand slips under hers and covers as much of it as he can, pulling back from the empathic connection so she doesn’t feel his guilt and the flash of fear.
Experiencing his emotions as they flooded through him was strange and sort of fantastic. Feeling him work out her nerves past the deep fascination, knowing with certainty there was no aggression or alternative motives between them was something the Siren savored. For the moment they had no secrets.
The way he flinched away stung her with pang of regret, then suddenly the connection was severed, and she was alone inside herself again. The cuts probably had hurt beyond her imagining and reminding him of them was probably rude at best. Maya’s lips fell slightly agape, at a loss for a way to apologize.
“Sorry…” She hummed sheepishly, sliding away from him.
There was still a significant distance to the outpost and she couldn’t tread water forever. Though she wanted to stay. The momentary exchange felt significant after a life lived at the discretion of others. She found herself hating the idea he might simply disappear underwater and never be seen again.
ⅰ. home // ⅱ. ask // ⅲ. rules // ⅳ. axton // ⅴ. navigation
❝you get a bullet! you get a bullet! everybody gets a bullet!❞
Exactly what every good story needs: a
vain, adrenaline-junkie, ex-soldier of ahero. Axton - commonly known in the hellhole of Pandora as “the Commando" - is a Vault Hunter with an insatiable thirst for violence, outfitted with the skills necessary to emerge from every challenge stronger, smarter, and more sexually attractive!Independent Canon Axton RP | Borderlands Verse + Open to AUs
OC Friendly | Mod is 18+ | ART CREDIT: MILCH-TUETE
((It’s weird how many varied opinions people have on what Godmodding actually is. Some people see it as killing a character, others see it as taking control of anothers character and some people say you’re godmodding if you just land a hit in a fight. Where do you guys draw the line? What is you definition on godmodding and how harsh do you consider it?))
[By my estimation all those things can qualify. Any time you remove a character’s agency it’s godmodding. If you speak for them, move for them, imply their reaction to something said or done to them (such as not giving them the opportunity to dodge an attack) it removes that writer’s ability to play their character. These things are not at your discretion. If it has consequences for the other person’s character it should always be their choice to make.
Really the only exception to this is if you have a good rapport with RPer and their character and you know for certain it’s alright to assume small things in order to move along a plot.
An analogy that helps me write replies is to look at RP as something like a game of volleyball. I aim to always serve up something that their character has to volley back.]
look! i did art o uo
Krieg is boss mkay.
He doesn’t break the surface of the water very often, the light all around and glaring off the water hurts his eyes and everything’s at once too loud and too muted, but he does this time as he pulls her up. He squints though, large eyes narrowed to slits as he tries to adjust to the sheer amount of light around them.
Staying close, large tail easily keeping them both above water, he doesn’t release her until she’s stopped gasping for air. When he does he still doesn’t move away, even if he can’t see her very well right now he’s still intensely curious and she’s been awfully nice for a human.
His neck and head frills flare with excited curiosity and now eager fingers reach to touch the blue tendrils on her head. Most humans seemed to have something similar but not the deep blue that she possessed. A webbed hand settles briefly on her forehead and he lets his emotions wash over her with the brief touch, accepting her matching awe in return.
She’s pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t immediately disappear to the relative safety of the dark water. One thing she did know about Pandora was that it was home to vicious pirates and equally ruthless treasure hunters. It was probably in his best interest not to surface and risk being seen by either. However he’d chosen to stay and kept her afloat until she caught her breath.
“Thanks. I don’t suppose you speak- ” She’s cut off when her mind stutters at the sight of him reaching for her face.
Her heart jumped and her markings nearly kicked back on as he fingered a lock of her hair, but the slick texture of his cold skin distracted her. She’s unused to touch outside of the instruction of her trainers and this proximity incited an strange sort of anxiety entirely foreign to her.
With the brush against her skin there’s a strange vertigo and then another unexpected rush of curiosity. It takes her a moment to find her equilibrium and understand the intrusive feelings for what they were, his inquisitive regard for her.
“Wow… okay.” The Siren bit her lower lip and struggled for coherency back in her mind. “You’re cut…”
She didn’t touch, but her fingers ghosted over the deliberate carvings that covered half his face. They were old wounds scarred over, but up close the Siren couldn’t help but imagine how badly they’d hurt when they new.
Gulping down the drink that she again refused the empty glass set down on a table right before the crowd of people near the stage. The question made him pause the smug look on his face faltering. It had come out of left field compared to what else she had spoken of.
It was sarcastic, which made him second guess responding to it at all and just keep on with his normal routine of things. Possibly even leave her to the true asses of the place. But he hesitated on that decision as well. “Well I uh…” Scratching in his long hair making it even more of a mess. “That’s a bit hard to explain. Besides you didn’t come here for me…” Motioning to the band.
Very rarely would anyone actually ask about him. The results were always the same. Deflect to booze or music. Easier that way considering everything. You didn’t just walk up and start talking about your rather…unique situation in life.
She’s never tasted alcohol, but she understood it’s effect on people. Maya couldn’t help but notice he’s downed four drinks in the past few minutes. His frame seemed too slight to have that heroic a tolerance.
"I like the music." The Siren nodded. "I like stories too."
A habit she’d taken up since exiling herself from the Coven, trying to piece together people’s stories. For now it satiated an appetite that used to be fed by countless hours in the library.
It felt like a small bit of revenge that her question had made him uncomfortable and reason enough to hang around the brutish boy a moment longer.
She tsked mockingly, appearing hurt that the detective would even request such a thing.
"I’ve heard next door does a wonderful alfredo. We, however, specialize in a lovely… red sauce. Tenderized ground meat. Hint of lead. Just like dad used to make." She fanned herself dramatically with a hand at all the reminiscing, biding her time for the next stage of this little show she had going.
"But what kind of host would I be if I only offered you the one entree? Let’s mix it up a little, shall we?" The brickhouse of a man stepped away from the woman to grant her access to the door she’d just been tinkering with. Through the frosted glass door, a lamplight flickered on, the filing cabinets easily viewable from where they stood. The precious files she’d been looking for. The same happened in the room adjacent, the dark silhouette of a man in a chair appearing with a band of white across the middle of his head. His face was too distorted to make out, but there was the glint of metal on his chest, the familiar shape of a detective’s badge.
"Our first dish tonight are the oh-so coveted files you’ve been seeking, to end all of this and put away this family forever, but at the cost of your partner having a new breathing hole in his head." She would see the dull black of a gun being pressed to the man’s head, a muffled sound escaping the gag they’d placed around his mouth.
"Our second dish is, of course, the life of your partner, in exchange for everything going up in a blazing glory of smoke and fire. Both enticing, if you ask me. It’s simply a matter of which one means more to you. But before you think shooting either or both of us is going to solve your problem, then you’re going to have three dead bodies to worry about and nothing to show for it." She retrieved the silver pocketwatch from her jacket and flicked it open. It had been a keepsake of her father’s, one her mother had given to him as a gift a long time ago, the back bearing a cursive script of the date they’d gotten married.
"No rush. It’s an important decision to make, but don’t take too long. I have other things to get to tonight, and I like to keep a tight schedule."
The girl seemed to regard all of this as a game or a piece of theater. Growing up preened by Jack, it was impossible to know if life and death even held any real gravity for her.
However speculations on Angel’s childhood quickly dissipated with sight of the blurred silhouette inside the office. A momentary disbelief swiftly became a wave of surreality that broke over her. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be. She hadn’t told anyone.
“That’s not possible." She insisted aloud with a tentative shake of her head.
It wasn’t… unless he’d follower her. Her had seemed suspicious when she’d suddenly started breaking their ritual of drinks after work, but it hadn’t occurred to Maya until now that he might’ve followed her. He’d have seen her casing the restaurant and probably figured out what she was planning. That still didn’t account for Jack’s daughter expecting her, unless he’d gotten here first.. tried to beat her to the punch-?
"If you think that’s any kind of choice you’ve got a lot to learn about people."