Forums » Forum Games » How Would Your Chara React... V2! (IC)

Alright Kioshi first

Kioshi is still next to her so called master, a fight had simply been finished, she'd watch as her master gets all the credit for taking down a mobster the family had been beefing with... She'd faint from the hundreds of bullet wounds in her back, falling over just to be mocked by those around

Spoilers just in case-

(Kagami and Jacob up first. Depending on the roll, i might do two rolls)

Jacob: “Hey, come on, I swear Im not lying, I’m promise, please mom?”

Kagami : she shrugs. “So, what if I’m lying, what’re you gonna do about it? Not like you can stop me anyways.”

Lets goo Folo!

Folo would be sitting out in public warm sun on her skin "I can finally feel its warmth.... So nice ti feel it before I go..." She'd smile knowning her murder had finally been solved, the vampire couldnt roam anymore meaning she has no reason to cling to this world, she'd begin to dissipate a smile on her face as she'd leave this world for good

20. A "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" or "To Build A Fire" situation; trapped in a wilderness of your choice.


Being placed out in a new environment within the great beyond was just another day at the office for Eleanor. Today, however? This was a moment where she finally felt stuck.

"Davis? Yes, this is Newmann. I'm afraid I may not make it back to the station at the time requested," Eleanor glanced over at the crash site of her ship. "We're currently awaiting help to repair a severely damaged thruster- Yes yes, I know that's unlike me! Uh-huh. Fear not, no casualties have been reported. Okay. I will get back to you when I've received assistance. Alright, goodbye."

As Eleanor hung up the call, she could feel something squirm within her chest. It was uneasy. Restless. "So what do we do now? It's not like we can leave!"

"Thank you, Elliot, for your wonderful observation," Eleaor's tone was laced with utter annoyance. Of all the days she had to have her precious ship suffer an accident... "It's simple. We'll camp out here until help arrives."

"But we might encounter some more of those... BIG things! Are you sure we'll last long out here?"

"Look on the bright side. If we encounter anything, it'll just give us more time to research the planet. We still don't know everything about our location."

Elliot's squirms did not cease. "...Isn't that a bad thing?"

Bad that they'd get more research time? Of course not. Bad that they weren't quite sure what they were dealing with out here?

...Well, Elliot had a point, now didn't they.

As if on cue, something in the bushes began to rustle, announcing the presence of one of the native creatures. Uninterested in potentially coming into contact with something aggressive while having no means of escape, Eleanor went back to her ship.

"Elliot, please get out," Eleanor requested, locking up the entrance behind her. "Put on a pot of coffee for me. I might need your help. And a gun, that might help, too..."

"Pretty sure it's Round Three for me."

16. Trying to gain the trust of someone that they're lying to or that has something your chara wants

Reaction: Become a clingy and over-loving girlfriend

"Another one."

14. Hitting that breaking point of stress where it either dips into hysteria or depression. Basically just snapping

Reaction: Crying her eyes and her heart out in bed or on a couch while profusely apologizing to the babies in her belly.

"Round Three, Page Three. What a coincidence."

4. On a sick day/injured - as bad as you want

Reaction: Two broken legs, a broken wrist, third degree burns on her upper back after a nasty car accident. Miraculous that her babies are okay. Sadly, she's thirty-nine weeks pregnant and laying in a very uncomfortable bed, so...yeah, life just sucks. Guess she'll cry....

Ayyy a’righty, let’s give this a shot! === ”W-wait, wait, Sarge- whaddaya mean b’that?” Itchy coastal winds rummaged through Sprite’s hair when she pushed herself back up the dune, blinking away the sand to stare at her superior with wide, confused eyes. ”I don’ got a sister, only a brother.. and if anythin’, I doubt he’s on our side’o t’party.” The one thing that made it easier to feel no remorse about fighting the Coalition - namely, their masked helmets -, also proved to be the one that caused her the most anxiety. What if one of them turned out to be her little bro, one day? She couldn’t stand the damn thought.. ”Just tellin’ ye what I heard, child,” shrugged The Sarge, avoiding her look of disbelief to peer at the ocean with a shit-eating grin. ”Found ‘er all washed up on the shore and what. More holes in ‘er than any gal is usually happy with having, heh. Splinter cell girl, ya couldn’t have met her.” What a way to honor the dead. Jackass. ”An’ how can y’tell?” Of course, Sprite had often wondered what it would’ve been like if she’d had a sister instead of a brother, but never could she really come up with a face for that hypothetical sis. ”Oh, she looks just like you, her. Leave it to you whether that’s a good thing- from what I hear, she swung all the fun ways and all.” Hadn’t she been stuck on this island with The Sarge and the most boring by-the-book squad in the Skylax, she would’ve knocked his teeth out in a single blow. ”What, don’t believe me? Go look, go look, child. They’re preppin’ for roastin’ in the med shack. See for yaself.” Suppose there was only one way to find out. Anywhere was better than in the presence of this pec-rolling, teeth-showing piece of crap. One fury-filled stroll down the beach later, she found herself poking her head inside the med shack. Crock was still there, sleeping away the infection in his leg. In another corner, a corpse. A fresh one.. ”Huh.” Switching to breathing through her mouth to keep the smell of death and woe out her nostrils, Sprite steadily crept up to the lifeless body on the cot, brows already curved with a mix of discomfort and anticipation. There, draped across the blood-soaked cloth.. ”Oh.. scrap me.” The same hazel green eyes, speckled with golden flecks, glared aimlessly at the ceiling of the tent. The same golden brown skin, unfreckled, but now dotted with bullet wounds. The same round, flat nose, the same full lips, the same heavy brow and soft cheekbones. To the damn T, the woman was an older, obviously dead copy of herself. And all this time, she’d never even known of her existence. ”Shit..” Yeah, what a sister she was.

"Sure, I'll play another round."

5. Caught doing something they shouldn't be

Reaction: "...What?"

1: Reacting to the person/people the character values being truly happy.

"This is easy!" Victi laughs, "I'd go hunting, exploring, and adventuring, and drag him along from time to time, just like I used to. Just like I still do, really. If he's happy and presumably generally safe, it probably means I always have somewhere to go back to after a day of excitement. Basically nothing would change, partially because he is generally happy overall, far as I know. It would just be a more relaxed life."

Let's see...

"Trying to gain the trust of someone that they're lying to or that has something your chara wants"

Amu purred deeply, pacing around the other and rubbing her face and body along their back, making sure to be careful and not push them over. She lowered herself onto the floor and slow blinked at them "You know, I'd be most appreciative if you could help me out." she purred and slow blinked at them, invading their personal space simply being as large as she was.

10: Someone breaking into their home in the middle of the night.

The sound of the balcony door being forced reaches the surface of the water in the bathtub. A volume of the water surges up into Liqui's striking, curvaceous shape as she solidifies, glaring in the direction of the door. Irritated, she steps out of the pool and silently walks out into the cozy apartment this manifestation of her awareness was inhabiting. Peaking into the bedroom from the bathroom, she doesn't see anything out of the ordinary, but does hear movement in the main room. She hurries over to the door with lightness and silence in spite of her size, and slooowwwwly cracks the door open... until it creaks slightly. She commits and slams the door open as the weathered looking intruder whips toward her, weapon in hand. She lets her imposing divine presence wash over them as they stare up at her.

She knows what they would be seeing and feeling right now. A magnificent, shiny, scaly creature a head or so taller than them, visibly physically powerful. Eyes rising to meet hers, they would find a gaze that somehow they know should be soft, welcoming, or eagerly curious, but is now full of annoyance and... disappointment. Worst yet, there would be a feeling, a pressure like the depths of the ocean telling them that they have made a mistake, that fortune has forsaken them.

The gun trembles, they step back and open their mouth to speak, to make a demand, to try and tell her to play nice so nobody will get hurt. Before they can make a sound, she matches them, stepping forward with unwavering confidence, and the words catch in their throat. She's closer now, her steps are longer. She takes another.

They fire, suppressed, subsonic. She begins to suspect they're a hireling, a mercenary, not a thief, unless they were a very successful thief. Those didn't typically need to break into lower-mid-range apartments, though. The bullet strikes her deeply arched chest, flattening against the tough, force-dispersing-gel filled plates protecting her body. Even if she were a mortal member of her kind the shot wouldn't have been close to lethal, not at that caliber, speed, or hardness. For her, goddess as she was, it didn't even get a grunt or moment of hesitation.

She steps forward again, then once more, then a third time. The terrified intruder stands frozen and panic fires to little more effect as they see doom walking toward them unfazed by their bullets, partially between them and any escape like a monster from a nightmare made flesh and scales, though likely more lovely than most monsters. Or at least Liqui assumes so. When she reaches them she grabs their clothing near the collar with one hand to lift them, and grabs the gun with the other to wrench it from their grip.

They whimper in fear as she casts the weapon to the ground and walks them to the far wall, gently pinning them in place. "You're quite lucky I'm a pacifist," she tells them in annoyed amusement, "Though I suppose quite unlucky to have chosen my residence to break into. I'll let you explain yourself. I won't hurt you, or likely even see you arrested, but I would suggest that you be honest and thorough in your reasoning. After attacking a goddess of luck, you may just find that your actions will begin to catch up with you..."

[ Easy peasy ! Anything to do with getting to be a snot-nosed know-it-all and work is the best news for him! ]

Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street was a man of many moods. The inconsistency and provocation of their ever-shifting existence was a consequence of his tidal-like frame of mind swayed by unforeseeable changes in his environment. Today was no different and while there was no work to be had, the excitable energy that resonated within the flat was ironically cheerful. He was pacing with great agitation to and fro, a thick, meticulously folded sheet of paper clasped firmly in hand. He appeared to be reading and rereading the contents over and over again, which only seemed to be egging him further into a state of restlessness.

Meanwhile, the front door banged open apparently after much effort and Dr. John Watson entered, both arms stuffed with large bags of what appeared to be groceries. Grumbling, he began to make his trek toward the flight of small stairs that would lead up to his flat, but a squeal of dismay stopped him in his tracks, and John whirled toward the source nearly losing his purchases in the process.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he called out, his desperate gaze seeking and finally finding the woman standing fretfully in the doorway leading to her kitchen.

"Oh, John!" Martha Louise Hudson exclaimed wringing her hands together in a worried fashion. "Thank goodness you're here!"

Immediately John was struck with the urge to disregard the landlady entirely and head directly upstairs to look for Sherlock, but the former soldier restrained himself and fixed Mrs. Hudson with a concerned expression. He'd learned to be patient, but in almost any situation that involved Mrs. Hudson raising the alarm, it always had something to do with the troublesome Sherlock Holmes. Setting his load aside on a nearby table, John would wait expectantly for Martha to shed some light on this otherwise dim situation.

"He's not right, John," she began in earnest. "He's not right! First, there was the violin -- the happiest melody I'd ever heard him play, then there was the dancing, and now he'll only speak to me in French! I simply don't know what to do with him, John!"

By this point, John was no longer thinking about retrieving his revolver but instead halfway considering a phone call to Mycroft Holmes, that damnable government prat. However, his personal feelings interfered too heavily with that notion and gently he placed both hands upon Mrs. Hudson's shoulders in an effort to comfort her uneasiness. "I'll figure this out. You stay here."

With as much resolve as he could muster, John Watson left the landlady and plodded up the stairs with the intent to figure out just what exactly that madman was up to this time. Once he was at the top, John hesitated, took in a deep, preparatory breath, and threw open the door. The scene wasn't as chaotic as he had imagined thankfully, but he was immediately greeted with an unexpected rush of enthusiasm that left him practically dumbstruck.

Wordlessly, Sherlock faced John, his gaze wild and acquisitive. He opened his mouth as though he were about to speak but quickly shut it again, words heartlessly failing him. Rather than make any further attempt, Sherlock simply thrust the paper into his associate's unsuspecting hands.

John's expression shifted from concern for his friend to a budding curiosity, and his grey-green eyes began traveling over the proffered letter with interest. The words that danced exquisitely over the parchment were painstakingly written, elegant, and curving in their display. It read as such:

Bonjour Monsieur Sherlock Holmes,

My sincerest apologies for contacting you so unexpectedly. I know your time and work are very precious to you, Je suis désolé. However, I wish to inquire, if you may permit me, a collaboration in an ongoing investigation. I will be working with your Scotland Yard liaison, Detective Inspector Lestrade. The details are to be discussed only en personne. I am most grateful for any contribution and look forward to the opportunity to work with you. J'espère te voir!

Best Regards,

Hercule Poirot

John reeled back some in confusion and gave Sherlock a questioning look. "Who the bloody hell is Her-cules Pwah-whatsit? And why didn't the bloke email like the rest of your clients? Is he some kind of hipster?"

Utterly indignant by this point, Sherlock Holmes snatched the letter from John. "He is Her-cule Poirot, John," the consulting detective corrected the other brusquely. "An absolute prodigy unsurpassed in his intelligence and understanding of the criminal mind. He utilizes psychology and his extensive knowledge of human nature to unravel the human components of a crime, and he is, I might add, almost always impeccably dressed. He also has this knack for rather dramatic denouements when bringing his cases to light."

John's face fell flat. "Now where have I seen that before?"

The inquiry went completely unnoticed, Sherlock still stuck in his reverie over getting to work with the famous Belgian detective. This was truly an opportunity of a lifetime. He practically salivated at the prospect of adding Poirot's remarkable insights to his archives.

"So, how will I know who he is when I see him?" John finally asked incredulously.

Sherlock smiled enigmatically at the doctor, "Tu sauras. Chercher juste la moustache."

Blank for a moment until I get the result.

"My turn again", he says as he looks at a huge choice wheel.

"It has been an lovely evening but I don't think this is going to work out", he says to his date as he walks them to their door. He bows and kisses their hand then leaves. 'I wonder if I made it awkward. If so, I must study more about dating', he thought to himself.

---

We're gonna use Ras here because he actually has emotions!

He isn't romantically inclined with anyone, as in he doesn't feel love for anyone in that way, so I'm gonna pick one close to that, prompt #4

Sibitharas sits in its demiplane, nursing the wounds that it had received due to a skirmish with some demon hunters. It muttered to itself, vowing to kill them the next chance it got. It would bring them here, and deal with them.

Let's see...

Having somebody come up in the street and just throw hands, insult your chara and start a fight

Sometimes you could just tell from the morning that a day was going to be hell on Earth. It had started with the alarm not ringing - or maybe she was too worn out from last night's patrol to have heard - which meant she'd had to rush out of bed, make sure the kids were ready (thanks goodness her robot-mom and Anton could be relied on for breakfasts!) and get into the car as soon as possible. As of it, they had arrived at the work meeting on the nose of being late, and for all the time she had felt her grandfather's stern disapproving gaze on herself, which had got her nerves worked up. Tedious business talks had gone on for hours - and fpr hours without the life-saving support of her usual extra-strong morning coffee - then, during the lunch break, she had had to politely tell off her female cousins who wanted to set her up on another date ("Oh, I'm so sorry, I had already booked up a series of diplomatic travels this week and it's too late to postpone"); she'd had to interfere when another kid took Reyn's favorite toy car and wouldn't give it back, and that led to a squabble with the other kid's parents. At least with her nerves so tense she'd not need coffee... but it was just silver lining compared to the next two conferences, each followed by a panel discussion where all the arguments and talking over each other threatened to split her head in two. Before her grandfather could rope her into a work cocktail with some potential shareholders, she had managed to send a desperate "Save me before I lose it and strangle someone, which might very well be myself so I won't have to hear another word of this torture!!" to Badzooka, had hopped into her limo and brought the kids at home, got a MUCH DESERVED shower and headed out again to finally take a much deserved break and unwind from what had been an otherwise hell of a day....

... when an imbecile suddenly started yelling against her.

She didn't register it at first. Her head was hung between her shoulders and her eyes focused on the road ahead, but when the angry voice grew nearer, she realized the guy was mad at her for... something? She didn't even get what the heck he was ranting about. She gave him a confused but scathing look from over her shoulder, and would have walked on.

But then the guy grabbed her arm and yanked it back, shouting insults and obscenities.

Behind the mask, Cris's eyes turned from two pools of ice to actual flame-throwers that could have charred that moron where he stood. Had her bodyguard robots been with her, it'd have taken that much to have him flung across the street to wherever sewer he had walked out of.

But when she was out and about on her own - in incognito - she didn't need her bodyguards,

It all happened in a flash. When he yanked her back by the arm, she took a step back as run.-up and then lunged against him - a move he hadn't expected. Her mask collided full force against his forehead, and as he reeled away from her, still dazed, a kick to the face knocked the wind out of him.

Before he could quite realize what had happened, the masked woman had seized him up for the collar and slammed him against the nearest wall, and now there was a small but deadly sharp shiv inches away from his throat, so close that the blade was prickling the skin.

"Get OUT of my face before I send you home in an ambulance if you're lucky and in a coffin if you're not!" she hissed, looking less like a real human being and more like some kind of japanese demon with that mask covering her features except for eyes that were burning with hatred. "I've had a long day. I'm not in a good mood. I just want to relax, so I'm telling you nicely once and only once - touch me again and what time you have left to live won't be enough to regret it." The next thing he knew, she had forcefully dragged him off the wall and pushed him away. "Now SCRAM! Or I might change my mind and run after you with my car!" she barked.

15. Realising they have a biological kid/family member that they didn't know about

He would do his best to search for them probably, no matter his situation. Though in his case it’s more likely to be family than children, since he’s asexual.

14. Hitting that breaking point of stress where it either dips into hysteria or depression. Basically just snapping 🥲

She would just start laughing, tears streaming down her face, as she throws away her sunglasses and just starts lashing out at the things around her, regardless if they’re people or objects. She’d probably let her hair loose too.

((This went from "I'm sleepy, I'm gonna do a prompt" to "let's torment Sab". It's certainly a kind of 'sick day', though my guy has a long way to go... Under a cut as it's possibly triggering for folk!! So a big TW for nausea/sickness, alcoholism, alcohol withdrawal, smoking, general depiction of addiction, brief mentions of drug use (though not any actual drug use). Nothing too spicy, though. Just everything you can expect when I write him 😂))