Realistic or Modern 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 (𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧)

[weldherwings]

forever young

welcome to the afterlife.

Think of this as your “forever home”. Due to certain events, you are now conditioned to spend the rest of your after life here. Those on Earth would tell you that the afterlife is one of two destinations: up there in the clouds with all the angels and harps, or down there with fire and brimstone. But no one ever talks about the inbetween. That’s where you are. The Inbetween. Like I said before, certain events occurred which no longer gives you access to visit the Man Above. But we’re not that cruel; we wouldn’t make you spend the rest of eternity getting stabbed by pitchforks. And so that’s how you ended up here. One of our helpers will guide you to your new house where you can meet your roommate and discover which job you’ll be working for the rest of… well… for forever.

the inbetween.

The Inbetween (or the ‘afterlife’) is a space between Heaven and Hell; a form of purgatory.

The Inbetween is just like life on Earth; just a little worse. Everything is under saturated (borderline grayscale), everything feels numb so there is no joy in telling jokes, getting drunk, doing drugs or fooling around, and the worst part of it all: no one can smile. No matter how hard you try, you simply cannot smile. There is also no televisions or mobile phones – talk about prehistoric or what. Time is linear in The Inbetween, following alongside with Earth. Honestly, The Inbetween is just a pirated copied version of Earth; all towns, cities, landmarks – everything is a somewhat worse version of Earth.

Oh, I suppose you’re wondering why everyone is here and not there or there. Well, the one thing everyone has in common here is; we’re all dead. Well, of course. But was how we died that unites us. Each death was self-inflicted. Now, self-infliction comes in many forms. Maybe you tripped over cause you didn’t tie your shoes laces properly. Maybe you were drink driving and crashed. Or maybe life was just too unbearable to keep on going. What ever the reason, you ended up here.

a note from weldherwings.

Hi hi hi! Just little old me with another group rp~!

This Group RP was inspired by the movie ‘Wristcutters: A Love Story’ – if you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend it but tw: it’s the same concept of those who died from self-infliction . There are no set roles and it’s open for all to come and go!

The overall plot of ‘forever young’ is surrounded by people living in The Inbetween. They’re just living their after life to the best of their ability when they hear that something amazing has happened; someone saw color. Not only that, after seeing the color, they were able to smile again. This sets a panic in everyone, wanting to smile once more – to feel some sort of joy in their life. However, it’s just a rumour; no one really knows where it happened, how it happened or who it happened to. But that’s not going to stop people from trying to figure out, right?

There are two types of roles you can join as: just a normal everyday person living their afterlife, or an undercover helper. Undercover helpers are angels sent to ensure to keep some sort of stability and peace in The Inbetween. They report to the Man Above, but while in The Inbetween, present themselves as just normal people. Know one knows who helpers are, and no one really care to ask. Helpers, as they are not in their true forms, struggle to figure out who the other helpers are until they’re called to duty.

guidelines.

one.

Follow all RPNation rules. Respect everyone, fade to black for erotic content or extreme gore, and be mature with sensitive matters. Of course, there will be violent scenes and potential murder scenes involved in this roleplay. However, all of these scenes will be kept to a PG rating, or writing in full details on our discord.

two.

Because of the themes of this roleplay, writers must be 18+. As much as I hate not being able to open it up to everyone, this roleplay will be exploring dark, adult themes.

three.

This is an open roleplay, but please note I will be accepting characters via discord where you pitch your idea to me. We need to have an even balance of helpers and normal people, along with personalities to ensure we don't make a thousand jerrys with a god complex.

four.

Discord is a must for OOC. In the server, we will discuss plot lines, NPC development, create a map for the community, and various other roleplay related agendas. We will also be spending time bonding and getting to know each other a bit more!

five.

Expectations of posting? Well, I understand that people can get busy with real life. However, I do ask if you could try posting at least once a week to keep the RP alive and the story moving. There will be no posting order (unless discussed in the server and everyone wishes to proceed with one), and we will break the roleplay up into "chapters". I'd love for the word count to at least hit the 500 word mark. Don't just give us a bone: we want some juicy meat too please. If you're unable to post within the one week timeframe, all I ask is that you let us know prior so we don't think you've fallen off the edge of the Earth.

six.

Realistic face claims only, as I like to create pretty aesethtics and will need to be able to look up your character's face claim! Also, please ensure you do your research with face claims (for example, don't have a Korean character with a Japanese face claim, with the character having zero blood connections to Japan)

seven.

Communication is the key! If you're strugglign with something or need to take a break - let me know! Also, I know personalities may clash or you might struggle to plot with someone. That's okay! It's natural! But it gives you no right to be a horrible person to someone. Please communicate with me if you're struggling so we can resolve it!

eight.

You are in no way required to use bbcode for any aspects of this roleplay (character sheets/in character posts etc). If you do use coded sheets or posts, I ask for them to be mobile friendly. If you have any issues with any codes at all, let me know and I can help to create/fix them!

nine.

Let's have some fun! Leave a comment below if you're interested; once this gets enough interest, I'll create a discord to get the ball rolling!

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[weldherwings]

chapter one:
grave.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[weldherwings]

wyatt ellis

buried next to his wife, deanne, and daughter, alice.

1988 - 2020

mood

ugh. just another day

location

mustang bar

oufit

click here

tag

none - open for interactions

The world was bleak and bland.

Once shaded with saturation and colors of wonders were now drowned in a sea of sepia as the lighting was dimmed ever so slightly. It reminded Wyatt of working the car dealership. When he first arrived there, they only had one computer available for him in the back. The computer itself was completely fine; but the desktop screen was a completely different story. Often, he would find himself typing away on the keyboard, only to look up and find the screen’s resolution had gone haywire. The brightness was dimmed, the contrast was too high, the saturation below its recommended position, and the colors struggled to break through the screen. He would sit there for hours on end trying to figure out how to fix it once more. Finally, one day, he discovered how to fix it; by just giving it a firm whack across the side. With one big wallop, the screen would glitch and everything was back to normal once more.

If only that was the case here.

A simple smack to the side would never fix the fact that he was now living this life in the In Between. Maybe had he had that smack before ending his life, it may have brought some sense to him. But it was too far gone, and now he was stuck here. Not really here, nor not really there. Just… in between. Where the colors are limited to depressing dark tones, and all feeling of joy was a fleeting memory. He would often wake up in the mornings, stand before a mirror and pull the sides of his mouth. He just wanted to remind himself what it looked like to smile. Heck, he’d give his whole life again to feel one split second of what it felt like to turn the sides of his mouth up in an expression of happiness and joy.

Friday evening. 5pm.

He had already had the bar open for three hours and an influx of old and new residents had already come and gone. The best part about being the local town bartender was that he felt like he knew everyone’s business; how they got here, what they were doing, who they were missing. You’d think having a bar was pointless in the In Between, considering alcohol had no real effect on their bodies anymore (neither did drugs and sex – nothing they did would bring any sort of joy into their worlds). But maybe people just needed this bar; they needed it so they can be reminded of the good and bad times. They needed that nostalgia to be able to face the demons of their past and pursue onwards.

Wiping down the countertop, a frown etched upon Wyatt’s face. No matter how many times he wiped this damn thing, there was always stains, dirt and cracks. Releasing a frustrated exhale, he gazed up to look at the people slumming in the bar. The one lonely musician singing a ballad of sorrow as she strummed her guitar upon the small stage set up in the corner. The large beefy men playing pool with no sense of satisfaction as they sunk the balls. The passed-out ones, laying on top of the tables before them, as they prayed that they would succumb to alcohol poisoning and leave this life stuck in limbo.

Yep. Just another day in the In Between.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[miyabi]

BAI YU TONG

the victim of her vices

1997 - 2022

mood

gworl she doesnt even know

location

mustang bar

oufit

outfit here

tag

weldherwings

She had only seen life one of two ways: either to enjoy it, no matter the consequence—indulge in the vices and think about it later, or to hide in fear, melt away the pain with prescriptions and a burning liquid. The thing was: somehow, Yu Tong had found a way to merge the two ideas together in a cluster of bad decisions and self-medication; pain, in these moments—addiction taking advantage of desperation—only becomes a temporary thought muddled by the pills, the inhalants, the never-ending cycle of chemical abuse. It held her in its palms with a vice-grip, forced her to steal in promises for the next hit, but she knew her time was limited. Even with this, the tumult of her past—the life she’d lived, breathed, and wore down—she would’ve rather been there than in the abyss of colorless dread.

It tore the feeling away, something she never thought she'd yearn for; in all the days she'd spent trying to run from emotional intrusion, who knew she'd eventually end up quietly begging for even the taste of a feeling. Hell, she would've rather remembered how she felt in her last breaths: clinging onto life with her body crunched against the pavement, a broken pearl necklace in one hand and a piece of banister in the other. No, there was no expecting she'd end up here: in the In Between. In fact, the In Between never made it in her list of possibilities. Hell—sure; Heaven—less than likely; but the In Between is a thought often gone unexplored. Yu Tong would've rather hold onto the belief of nothingness after death rather than the eternal bleakness of the everyday.

And although she may not be one worthy to choose where she ends up now, Yu Tong had always figured that an offer such as that would've been on the table.

She sits now on a barstool, face buried in a pile of napkins and a glass half-full of whiskey. Or whatever the In Between equivalent of it was—if any at all. Yu Tong still never quite grasped the workings of limbo, the endless loop of abysmal lifelessness that she has yet to grow accustomed to. If there was any possibility of that happening. It did, however, erase the feeling she once crossed paths with in her walk of life—true life.

"你他妈的去死吧," the words slurred under her breath, wood and paper stifling the sounds as the glass of whiskey is haphazardly slammed down. Directed at no one and everyone, though they could never truly be worked out under her drunken stupor. "Give—give me another one," splashes of alcohol are beneath her palms now, but she never intends to clean it up.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Gao]

AMBRUS MIKSA

gone and definitely forgotten

1994 - 2021

MOOD

Evil !!

LOCATION

Mustang Bar

OUTFIT

Clicky

TAGS

None, open to whoever wants ashy alcohol im so sorry

Click. Click. Click.

Plastic against enamel, the pen tapped against lower teeth in clock-like intervals. Staring up like a forlorn hatchling at the reception light, fixtures spelled boredom as it flickered its threatening Morse.

Ambrus could only assume it bore a sickly hue, splashing saturated glare over the moth-nibbled lobby and its rotting edges— not that his purgatorian retinas would know any better. How did life, or lack thereof, fall into a dull sequence of how to kill the next ten minutes? And the next ten? And the next? Driven to the point of contemplating the colour of a light, questions of productivity would be equal portions of accusation and mercy.

Click. Click.

And yet, he’d be willing to wait until ground into nothing more than skin and bone, remaining forgotten in the imperial glory of helpless oblivion and rooted forever to this spot of time. Smother fractures with plasterwork where honesty could seep through, blunting the cutthroat edge of truth, a concave twist between reality and fiction;

He could be waiting forever in this perdition.

Settled in an ultimatum of despair, sometimes Ambrus thought he could hear it, feel it, the way eternity reached out as a ripple of water. Searching half asleep, a hand across sheets and pillows only to feel the world, this abyss, split open and engulf him in the hollow of their absence. Rose-thorn needles soaking into skin and blotting stems of water-blue veins still aching in their memory, the phantom touch of pressed foreheads and absolution clinging to skin. Eddying ad infinitum of soft, ripe grief infused in every breath, every shallow sift of lung and finality of no tangible epilogue.

To be lost in a syncopated rhythm: we know how this ends, kedvesem.

Together? Together.

Click.

Senses tugged by the uncanny feeling of not being alone, a pair of eyes had grown too invasive to ignore. In heed, Ambrus stopped his tapping and slowly glanced over to meet the eerie source.

How irises stalled on the reception’s sole guest; bundled in a black headscarf, coat and sunglasses. Foreboding, shady garb did not scream intended discretion. Sharing in mutual silence and an unspoken question, do you fucking mind?— a delayed click sounded as Ambrus broke the awkward atmosphere.

“Wow.” It was a lolled curtain of a voice, velvet sash strung too loosely over beams. “You’re creepy as shit.”

Finally acknowledged, the macabre lady moved up to the counter. Visionary sloth awaited her, Ambrus slumped low in the chair with shoes kicked up onto the corner of the desk.

“Most people try a greeting. Hello, for crazy example. Or maybe, you’re under arrest. But not you, no, you fancy looking like you pillage graves.” Her opportunity to speak was cut with another pen click. “Not to worry,” he sat up from a slouch to lean forward in the chair, feet back on the floor and elbows finding the desk in lackadaisical fashion. “I know what-” who, his scathing mind interjected, “-you’re really waiting for.”

A reaction delivered, he picked up on the tremor of tension seizing her lissom silhouette.

“Really?” She whispered, a plummy voice travelling the varnished walls in spite of desired subtlety.

“Oh yes,” he hummed, wry with disquiet. “I can see it from a mile away.” As if perched comfortably with the wisdom of Athena, he couldn’t deny diabolism from watching paranoia cloy thick to her skin. “You’d be surprised what I learn from just sitting here every day.”

Fingers clutched her handbag closer as defensive armour, pursed lipstick lips and dry swallow of her narrow throat. Anyone dressed suspiciously was, to nobody's surprise, suspicious, and visitation to this establishment no doubt led to treacherous deeds. Haunted by old habits and a crave for familiarity, he presumed. Hotels were common-territory for such, leaving possible niceties for the stranger curdled sour.

Unable to watch her evident guilt fester any longer, dry air salted wet lungs as Ambrus sighed through his nose.

“You're waiting to ring the desk bell.”

Tension deflated like a balloon. Perplexed silence inhabited its space, wool-thick confusion as the burnished item was set into view. An honour bestowed, albeit one that did not inspire enthusiasm.

“Go ahead.” His head lowered to prop itself on interwoven fingers, eyes drained of hue boring into the female with patient expectation. “I’ll let you do it once.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t care.” Click of the pen, point of its nib towards the shiny item. “Ring the bell.”

“I’m not sure if I ne-”

“Ring it.”

Hesitantly, yet to his strange demand, a dainty gloved hand reached up and pressed the counter bell. A cheerful ding!— resonated the reception, yet failed to summon delight in both worker and guest.

“Mhm.” He collected his findings in the dour air, a slow nod to its unsatisfactory echo. “I am underwhelmed.” Yet another trial bell not up to par, it was removed from sight.

“Well,” she began matter-of-factly, “I thought it was okay.”

“Well,” returned his customer-service voice, “I didn’t ask.”

If capable of deriving amusement in this dire eternity, her offended stance would’ve been its origin. Unfortunately, as always, he was painted apathetic. “Anywho!” He clicked the pen once more, spun it over the knuckles of his fingers. “Reservation or walk-in?”

She’d soured with ire, angled features scrunched and finally delivering a reaction the desk clerk sought.

“You're rude.”

“That’s not my name.” He was better than this, yet faulted at how his tongue whittled to opportunity. “Say it with me, my dear,” a hand motioned advertisement-like to the nametag’s lettering, spoken with Hungarian clarity, “Ambrus.”

How he still had a job was beyond his comprehension.

What was also beyond his comprehension that day, was the basic task of how to be likeable.

Clocking off work to exchange one dreary hellhole for another, it was a place carved out of zero pretence, starved dry of joy and ambition by impalpable weight. Slumped bodies over tables, entangled so profoundly with their own grief; glutton ouroboros stitched together by despair.

Unlike the silence of home hibernating in every groove and fissure, he found Mustang Bar to be a cesspool of noise. Clacking of pool-ball collisions, torpor mutters and sad drivel music drawing his footsteps towards the bar.

Unfastened from focus, passing a table and tapping ash from his cigarette into a stranger’s glass of liquor was an automated gesture, and one that was sure to— whether verbally or silently, provoke distaste.

If Ambrus would prove to be apologetic or not, however, remained questionable.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[floralmoon]

celeste archambeu

I'll see you on the other side of the stars.

2002-2021

mood

bored

location

mustang bar

oufit

tag

Wyatt weldherwings

The sky was once again grey in color, just like it had been the day before, Celeste had lost count of how many days she had been in the Between, what was the point in counting anyways? There was no escape from this desaturated place, but she would catch herself noticing how much she did miss having some sort of color, even if most of her outfits were dark anyways. She steps up to her vanity and begins to apply what once was a scarlet-red lipstick, which is now but a charcoal color. A simple swipe of mascara was applied to her lashes, and her makeup was complete, not much more to do as it would be completely pointless. Celeste steps over to her closet and begins pushing through her clothes, "Grey, black, dark grey, black, white..." She grabbed what she could only assume was a heather grey tanktop and tossed it over her shoulder, then grabbed a pair of asummably light grey jeans. A cardigan to tie around her waist was the last clothing item she would need to complete her outfit other than her shoes, which would be a pair of heeled boots.

Once dressed, she brushed her hair and rustled it slightly to give a sort of bed-head inspired look. With one last glance in the mirror, she blew a kiss at herself, grabbed her purse, and stepped out the door. The weather today was the same as it always had been, with a slight breeze every so often. The temperature was around a stale 70 degrees, not hot, and not cold, but you couldn't consider it just "right". A quick glance down at her watch reveals that it was 4 minutes before her shift was to begin, this caused a slight panic, "Putain, je vais être en retard." The girl shakes her head and begins to march towards the hotel with her head held high, despite that she was going to be a few minutes behind schedule.

She finally arrived at the hotel, only 7 minutes late, which isn't as late as she usually is. The lobby was a complete desert, nobody was there as far as she could tell, so she turned around and decided to head towards the bar. Not even 30 seconds outside of the hotel, a cigarette was stuck between her lips and was being lit up. This would make drinking a little better, hopefully the money she made from the past few days would be enough for at least 5 shots and two mixed drinks, or a different assortment of liquor. After arriving to the bar, she noticed there were quite a few people already there. She makes her way up to the counter and takes a seat, looking at the bartender she begins to speak with her thick French accent, "Can I please get a whiskey sour, Monsieur?" This was her go to drink when she arrives at the bar, always. Hopefully tonight she doesn't end up somewhere other than her own bed after drinking too much.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© palonyboy.

 

[sunnieside]

giang vo

honorable daughter and friend

1998 - 2016

mood

p i s s e d

location

mustang bar

oufit

peep the fit

tag

Gao

As the day dragged on, Giang’s eyes grew heavier with each passing second of nothing to do. The tables were cleaned, the coffee beans and syrups were stocked, and not one person had stopped to get a drink of coffee at Fluorescent Buzz Café. Whatever the hell a ‘fluorescent buzz’ meant, Giang wouldn’t have known the answer. It was some quirky name her boss had come up with to attract customers. Anyways, it wasn’t like anyone would be energized from consuming caffeine around here.

Many people would be lucky if they felt anything at all.

The young barista’s slim fingers tapped to the monotonous ticking of the clock to keep herself busy. How is this helping me stay distracted? She thought to herself. Fortunately, her shift was nearly over, and all she had to do was wait endlessly for the next barista to take her place.

Ding ding!

Giang’s eyes darted to the door. Finally, the first customer of the day. Whoever could it-

Ah.

“Hey Giang, I’m here to take over now.” Giang’s coworker gave a short nod as he walked in. He dropped his belongings on a random table, knowing full well that the café was not getting any more customers for the rest of the day. He sighed, “Any customers today?”

The young girl shook her head as she quickly grabbed her things, “Technically, you’d be my first one if you weren’t working today.”

The coworker sighed, “If I could, I would have laughed at your joke. Have a great night.”

If Giang could, she would have offered a fake smile. With the door jingling behind her, Giang took a reluctant step towards the Mustang Bar. A musty aroma wafted in the gentle breeze as she walked past monochrome buildings. It led her to be drifted away in her thoughts, something she avoided doing when she was alive.

Ever since Giang began living in the In-Between, she had heard other souls yearning how they want to be able to experience emotions again. For Giang, if she could experience emotions, it was absolute bliss that she no longer had to feel anything anymore. All her life, she struggled with keeping her uncomfortable feelings at bay. Constantly participating in school activities and part-time jobs prevented her mind from thinking about certain things. The fact that she could feel that euphoric numbness this place offered her was the greatest gift she had ever been given.

Giang cracked open the bar’s door and was surrounded by the bitter smells of alcohol splattered about. She saw some people slumped in their seats surrounded by glasses of beer and others rambling incoherent words with melancholic music playing in the background. Scanning the area, Giang spotted an empty table and ordered a hard cider before sitting. Technically, the young girl would be twenty-four if she was still alive, so she is old enough to drink even though she appeared underage. Unfortunately, right before Giang sipped on her fully deserved cider, some asshole decided to dump ashes into her drink. She looked up to see the back of a lanky man slouching over as he took a hit from his cigarette. His hair seemed unruly yet slick, as if he hadn’t bathed in days. Fortunately, the cigarette smell covered up his putrid odor.

Giang cleared her throat and innocently looked at the man, “Um, sir? I wasn’t sure if you meant to or just didn’t see me, but you owe me a drink.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[floralmoon]

everly wilcox

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

1994 - 2019

mood

relaxed

location

Mustang Bar

oufit

scrubs

tag

anyone at the bar

Everly had just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, it was stressful to say the least. She sits back at a booth all by herself and sips on her drink, it was a glass half filled with a red merlot wine, her favorite. She quietly sighs to herself as she looks across at the empty seat where her fiancé would've been sitting had she not been stuck in the In-Between. A hand runs through her curly red grey hair, which had been in a ponytail all day long, to relieve the stress and headache she was dealing with. Things have been such a bore around here, nothing is funny or even in the slightest bit entertaining, nothing is enjoyable, its just all lack-luster. Everly's eyes darts around the room, two girls at the bar, one who she could only assume was French and one who was of Asian descent, both speaking in their fluent tongue at one point or another. Across the room sat another woman, she too was also of Asian descent, and was really keeping to herself, just as Everly was. "Should I go sit with her? No, she's obviously sitting by herself for a reason." Not soon after her thoughts end, a skeleton man walks into the bar and ashes his cigarette into the girl across the room's drink. This very much frustrated Everly, but she just didn't have the energy to interject.

An empty glass, one that once held a liquid that would've been a beautiful red color, but with everything so desaturated, you couldn't tell the color of things anymore, only the shade. Is it light or dark? That was the only thing you could go off of, if there was ever just half a second of color, everyone would probably be wearing extremely mismatched outfits. As far as they look now though, everyone is matching and looks great, or at least as good as they want to look. Another scan around the room, she doesn't seem to catch anyone's eye or notice anyone who seemed approachable at the moment, so she stands up and walks towards the bar to get a refill of her glass. "Can I have another glass of merlot, please?" She looks at the bartender and patiently awaits an answer from him, he already seemed like he was busy enough with the two patrons at the counter already.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[weldherwings]

wyatt ellis

buried next to his wife, deanne, and daughter, alice.

1988 - 2020

mood

lets play a game

location

mustang bar

oufit

click here

tag

some drunk lady trying to break my glasses ( miyabi ), some french lady and some wine-drinking lady ( floralmoon )

One would say that the In Between was full of colourful characters. That would be true had colour existed in this place. Wyatt spent his days watching people come and go; travellers and people who claimed this little town as their own. He would sit there in silence, observing their every move, hypothesising how they might’ve come to such a place like this. After all, it was a great way to pass their never-ending time here. The other bartenders often would join in, placing bets to see if their predictions were right. Wyatt, for some reason, just seemed to have a knack for getting it right. If there was still joy in food and drinking here, he would’ve ordered himself a large supreme pizza with a pint of beer to celebrate the night away. But everything was just the same; it all tasted, smelt, and felt the same.

A foreign slurred voice caught his ear. Wyatt pulled his attention away from his ongoing battle with the countertop and directed toward the obviously hammered female. He was more curious to how she was still able to keep her balance on top of the stool rather than what she had just said to him in her native tongue. Her declaration of wanting another beverage only deepened Wyatt’s frown. Without a single word, he turned around to grab the bottle of whiskey off the shelf and returned before the female. “This is your last one and then I’m cutting you off” he informed her as he began to slowly pour out the liquid into the glass. “And don’t go slamming down my glasses again unless you want to be spending the night looking for shattered glass on the floor”

The bar was starting to pick up. Ah yes, it was a Friday night. Everyone was here to attempt to drown out their misery, or at least try and draw out any memory or sensation of what it felt like to be alive again. Two females stood patiently at the bar, requesting a whiskey sour and the other a merlot. “One whisky sour and one merlot. On it” Wyatt responded with a nod, picking up the empty glass to refill. As his hands quickly crafted the requested beverages, he had to question to himself; who the hell thought he would be good as a bartender? He had spent most of his life as a car salesman, and prior to that, he attended university to study business. He was a businessman; just like his father, and his father before him. It was practically in his DNA. So, pray tell, why did they decide to allocate him with such a job as this as he entered the In Between. I suppose he could always quit and ask for a different job. But he had heard others say there were consequences for quitting. What consequences? No one would say. It drove him up the wall. So now, he was stuck in a job where he could barely exercise all the knowledge he had gathered in university, and where he would have to remember all the concoctions. People in the In Between can’t die again, right? Because some of these drinks he had made over these years were bound to be the cause of someone dying once more.

He returned with their drink of choice, placing it before the two ladies. “One merlot and one whisky sour” he announced to them, gesturing each one to their respected owners. “Actually, hey – Can I pick your brains for a moment?” Wyatt paused for a moment, quickly gazing over to the drunken female who had been cursing previously. He leant against the countertop, edging closer to the two who had ordered drinks and hushed his tone. “What do you think she did to end up here?” Wyatt questioned, lightly gesturing towards the whisky-drinking drunk. “I bet you both a drink that she was drunk and walked in front of a bus or car.” A quick turn of his head, he was once more looking at the girls before him. If he could give them a friendly complexion to show he wasn’t some sort of creep, he would. Sadly, the In Between saw no need for such sunshine smiles and warm appearances; instead, everyone had a cloud upon their head, always threatening to splatter out the rain but never letting a drop fall. Instead, just leaving them in constant anticipation filled with unwavering dread that something was going to happen.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Gao]

AMBRUS MIKSA

gone and definitely forgotten

1994 - 2021

MOOD

hello VICTIM

LOCATION

Mustang Bar

OUTFIT

Clicky

TAGS

Giang !! sunnieside

It was a cough that skewered interruption through his dreary idling.

Um, sir.

There hadn’t been intentions of staying silent and making it awkward for the other party.

Yet here he was.

Staying fucking silent.

Notice was like an afterthought, glancing over to meet watchful eyes and realising they had been waiting on him— expecting a reply. Pallor skin didn’t colour with embarrassment, only blinked once, twice, and glanced to check for anyone else who could be the epicentre of their words.

Finding no-one, and with a vague motion towards himself; fingers grazing chest in silent question, little ol' me?— It was confirmed, she was speaking to him.

You owe me a drink.

The resonance of their voice held the weight of a feather, undaunted and filling the air like water. Ringing stark contrast to his lean scarcity and hollowed eyes, air freighted with lingering silence until broken with soft disdain.

“And what would that be?" He could not deny wicked serendipity. "A juicebox?”

She looked too young to be preoccupied with the snare of alcohol, to carve space for it in the silhouette of her body. Untouched by shards of ice and wind-eating skin, not yet succumbed to shadow and dream.

Concluding the reason for a stranger to request a drink from another, he sighed.

“Listen,” there was a sharp intake of breath, a drag of oxygen to chase miasma smoke down his throat, “your forwardness is inspiring.” Eyes squinted, eyebrows scrunched in what could only be seen as wry sympathy. “-But I am married.”

Delivered in honey-thick derision, he played the cigarette between his fingers until pale iris met the drink instead of the person. Liquor crowned with floating ash of his own doing; the real motive behind her demand.

“Ah,” realisation had arrived. “My bad.” Creaking wood sounded, floorboards signalling his wraithlike movement. He reached a hand to take her drink and replace it, and instead—

dropped the cigarette into her glass.

Oops.

“It was rude of me not to offer the entire thing.” Akin to bloodletting, it was a test for porcelain temper. “Hop along, now. Go have nap-time.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[floralmoon]

everly wilcox

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

1994 - 2019

mood

relaxed

location

Mustang Bar

oufit

scrubs

tag

Wyatt weldherwings

A glass half full of liquid was sat down in front of her by the bartender, he had previously spoken to the drunken women that was at the end of the bar prior, which prompted him to question Everly and the French girl next to her, “Actually, hey – Can I pick your brains for a moment? What do you think she did to end up here?” He spoke in a hushed tone to prevent the girl he was speaking about from hearing the conversation. Everly looked down the bar at the woman once more, she sat down and thought for a moment before speaking up to the man reciprocating the same hushed tone as him, "Honestly, I would have to agree with the drunk part, but it could've also been drug use, now as to what happened while intoxicated, not really sure. Maybe overdose or drank herself to death?" She glanced again at the target of their conversation, giving a quick up and down glance. There was no way that she didn't also have a drinking problem while alive, especially since there's no true enjoyment of it in the In Between.

"If you want to play the guessing game, let's see if we can guess the rest of the people in here as well." A little bit of competition was something Everly really loved while alive, especially when it came to boardgames or even Jeopardy. "We can start with him, She points over to the guy who had ashed his cigarette in another patrons drink, and by now had tossed the whole thing in there as if it was some sort of disposal. He seemed like quite the asshole and very upset in the In Between, so there had to have been some sort of distressing death related to him. I think his had something to do with either family, or maybe even a love. Even here, I can tell that there is just another level to his depression and dismay of being in this place." Her hushed tone is turned back to the bartender, leaning in a little bit as to not alert an of the other patrons that aren't included in the three's guessing game.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© polony boy.

 

[sunnieside]

giang vo

honorable daughter and friend

1998 - 2016

mood

annoyed

location

mustang bar

oufit

peep the fit

tag

Gao weldherwings

Are you fucking kidding me?

Giang narrowed her eyes and adjusted her glasses while barely keeping her anger at bay. How dare this skinny, little man drop his cancer-causing cigarette into her drink! Honestly, with the constant puffs of smoke and his gray-tinted eyes, he seemed like he probably died of lung cancer.

Good riddance, honestly.

She stopped herself and realized that wasn’t a nice thought to have.

One thing she has noticed ever since coming to the In-Between was how she didn’t care about how others perceived her. But, at the same time, she always strived to be helpful to the other lost souls in subtle ways. For example, what she was about to do next.

After one swoop kick to the knees, this scraggly man would probably be knocking on death’s door again. If Giang could, she would kick him in the knees to see what would happen. But she wouldn’t do that because that wouldn’t be helpful to anyone. The young girl waved the murky clouds that the man kept blowing in her face and replied, “First, what kind of person would be willing to marry you with your godawful smoking and the fact you look like you haven’t bathed in weeks?”

Eyeing the cup, Giang wrapped her slim fingers around the glass and swirled the floating cigarette around. Ashes fell with each swish, and if Giang could, she would give a little grin. Staring into the man’s dead eyes, she thrust the ruined drink at his face. The cigarette-alcohol mix splashed all over the man’s face and clothing as remnants of clumped ashes spattered here and there.

The interaction would have brought Giang satisfaction, and she wished it did. Instead, she felt numb and just wanted another drink. She called out to the bartender with the two women, one wearing nurse scrubs and the other ready to pass out drinking. Giang shouted, “Please put my drink and a couple of others on this man’s tab. Thanks!”

Whether the bartender would do it or not, she was determined to get that free and well-deserved drink.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[weldherwings]

kwon tae-hyung

gone but not forgotten

1988 - 2015

mood

oh dear lord

location

mustang bar

oufit

grey knitted jumper and black jeans

tag

none

“It’s post time!”

A voice chimed with a cheerful ring. You could hear the leap of happiness from his tone and could see the wide grin spread across his face before you even looked at him. Gary, the postman, was the envy of the town. Envy of the whole In Between, in fact. He was the only man in the In-Between that could grin ear to ear; the only one to feel a sense of joy and happiness that once radiated through their bodies. He, of course, was not dead at all. He was a helper of sorts for The Man Above. Only ever visiting once a day to shower everyone with the good wishes their families would whisper to their gravestones or their final laying spots in a form of a letter.

Gary began to walk around the bar, handing out letters to their allocated owners as he lunged around his large post sack with him. Tae sat at the small table, eyeballing the man who had a bounce in his step. It was at this moment, Tae silently wished that the man didn’t have any letters for him. Especially in such a public area of where they were right now. Gary walked along with the countertop where the bartenders and customers awaited their deal letters, delivering them off one by one. Some of them were given three, some just one and others… well, none. You could tell that those who held onto their letters wanted to grin as widely as Gary. And those who were left empty-handed were trying to find more ways to yet again end it all.

And then it happened; Gary made eye contact with him.

“Ah, Kwon Tae. Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you”

Oh no.

It all happened in slow motion; Gary lifted the postal bag up high in the air, beginning to tip the contents of what was inside upon the very small table Tae had claimed for his own. Thankfully, he had managed to grab his beer before the letters came falling down. Was he Harry Potter? It felt that way; every single day since coming to The Inbetween, there was always a handful of letters for him. But they were never properly addressed to him. If anything, it was just conversations of people standing nearby. He was yet to discover a letter that would actually address him. So, even though the letters fell like stars from the sky, Tae’s hopes were extremely doubtful. The letters piled before him, sliding onto the floor in an avalanche. “Oh,” Gary chuckled, tilting his head to the side “Maybe I should’ve just given you the bag”

You think?

Gary resumed his mission to hand deliver all of today’s letters by foot. In his curious nature, Tae took a swing of his beer before placing it down on top of the letter-covered table. He slowly took hold of the first letter his hands discovered; ripping it open without any delicacy and pulling the letter from inside.

Okay, so next week we will sort out rows A to K, and start clearing out this section for the new stock.

Was his grave in a supermarket?

Was this why he was getting so many letters these days? A frown etched upon his face, debating if he should either a). Continue opening up his letters to discover the location of his final resting place of b). Continue to try and get so stone-cold drunk to forget that he was even here in the first place? The latter sounded so much more appealing if we were being truthfully and brutally honest here.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Gao]

AMBRUS MIKSA

gone and definitely forgotten

1994 - 2021

MOOD

VICTIMSSS HEHEEE

LOCATION

Mustang Bar

OUTFIT

Clicky

TAGS

sunnieside (Giang/Half-Pint) + weldherwings (Wyatt + Mentioning Tae/Mr Gloomy)

Fixated unblinking as if witnessing proof of divinity, how riveting her anger had become in its deliverance. Features focused with grave austerity, Ambrus solemnly nodded, hanging tentatively on each and every word escaping the brandished blades of teeth. No longer clothed in awkward politesse, now nettled with bramble thorns. Aflame and bristling, it was a spectacle to be sure.

What kind of person would marry him? What kind of person? A question relentlessly known to drag molasses-thick conflict through his conscience. Its consuming current not merciless, simply apathetic in holding him steady under dominion; drowning just enough to agonise, just enough air to endure.

“You seem…” Washed over like a collision of water to oil, words prompted no enticement of change. “...Upset.” Fickle as a tempest, the female wouldn’t be so easily deterred, and to her credit, a second point had been left unanswered. Hovering like miasma, the gentle motion of glass sent cider rolling, and retreating, and rolling again.

It was only a scintilla of suspicion, a flicker of focus to the curve of her hand found several moments too late. Posturing like a bird of prey she lashed him with cider. Eyes scrunching shut with shoulders shot up near his ears, the attack was successful in bringing a stop to Ambrus and his behaviour.

Temporarily.

The peaceful sigh, drag of hands to slick back ash and liquor from face into hairline, did not become a man who just got doused. Fuelled by whatever sense of lunacy, more so spite, the Hungarian shook like a wet dog to rain leftover dregs of liquor on his cruel attacker.

Baptised!

“That,” he flicked hands free of wet, finding the cigarette and pinching it meticulously from his clothing to the floor, “is our monthly bath.”

Awkwardly trying to spit pulpy ash from mouth was less smug, and he’d scorn at the folly if not the very victim of drink-hurling ire. Further play to her schemes, call to utilise a tab had Ambrus holding up a hand to halt the bartender from doing any such thing.

“Do ignore the angry half-pint, I’ve never even spoken to her.” Ambrus motioned to his temple, signalling crazy with a not-so-discreet whisper yell,“–I worry the little lady isn’t thinking straight!”

Purely oblivious to the bar-attendees current game, the arrival of smiley Gary brought both letters and standstill hope. Eyes following the mailman’s journey, cinereal grey and vulture-like; even mud-rind scraps would be satiating at this starving stage.

Receiving none, it left a sour paste cloying thick to his palate.

And receiving none, to watch the endless supply spill over someone’s table like slates of ice; envy was to be a common feeling in Gary’s presence. Not something Ambrus was entirely fond to notice stirring in the regolith of his bones.

Drumming the flat of his hands on Giang’s table, he’d come to an annoying, boredom-induced decision.

“Be a dear, will you? Borrow a few letters from Mister Gloomy over there, he has more than enough, and I’ll refund your-” Dragging tongue over the palmar creases of a hand, his mouth clamped shut as if holding a shot of sour medicine. “Your shitty cider– jesus fucki– god, why do you drink that? Couldn’t you have thrown something a little nicer on me?”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[floralmoon]

celeste archambeu

I'll see you on the other side of the stars.

2002-2021

mood

bored

location

mustang bar

oufit

tag

Wyatt weldherwings

The bartender brought over Celeste's requested drink, a whiskey sour, it was her favorite while she was alive, even though she was not of drinking age. She looks at the man and nods at him, "Merci." her voice speaks out before raising her glass slightly and taking a swig. The woman standing next to her had ordered a wine, merlot to be exact. Celeste wasn't too fond of wines herself, but was always interested in the people who were, she thought it made them look fancy. The three of them stood there for a second in silence, when the doors to the bar swung open.

A man who looks as though he hadn't even seen a shower in his entire life walked into the bar, there was something about him that Celeste found attractive, maybe it was his carefree attitude, one that just screamed fuck you. Her thoughts were interrupted by the bartender asking the two patrons about the drunken woman who was on the far end of the bar. "What do you think she did to end up here?” the man spoke, Celeste thought to herself, she wasn't entirely sure of how the woman would've ended up here, and she didn't really care too much. The woman in scrubs standing next to her gave her guess and then directed the game towards the man who had previously ashed his cigarette in another woman's drink. "I think his had something to do with either family, or maybe even a love. Even here, I can tell that there is just another level to his depression and dismay of being in this place." The presumed nurse spoke, Celeste nodded her head in agreement, "He does look very upset with his current situation." She said, breaking her own silence, her accent dripping down each word she spoke.

And that's when it happened, the patron who had just gotten a cigarette tossed into her drink stood up and threw it all over the man. Celeste's hand immediately covered her mouth in shock, it was quite a site to see, the man deserved it after what he had done though. The two of them began to argue about whether or not he owed her a new drink, to which Celeste's eyes darted back and forth between one and then the other, then to the bartender who was speaking to herself and the nurse. Not long after the interactions, Gary walked in and spoke up "Post time!" his cheerful disposition was borderline sickening, he was the only one here who was able to smile, which honestly, Celeste didn't have much to smile about as she never got any mail, but a certain patron did get some, and it was a lot. The envelopes poured over the table, falling onto the floor, his family must miss him so dearly to have this many letters. That's when Gary walked over to her and handed her an envelope, she looked down at it in shock, there was no way that she just received her first letter since being here.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© palonyboy.

 

[weldherwings]

wyatt ellis

buried next to his wife, deanne, and daughter, alice.

1988 - 2020

mood

mail time! mail time! maiiiillll!!

location

mustang bar

oufit

click here

tag

some drunk lady trying to break my glasses ( miyabi ), some french lady and some wine-drinking lady ( floralmoon )

At the moment of drug use, Wyatt’s brows rose. “You make a fair point” he muttered as they both gazed upon the woman, inspecting her movements and posture to try and figure out exactly what brought her to be in such a place like this. The girl then questioned him about playing a guessing game with her. Oh, boy. This is what he lived - was it lived these days? - for. Anything that involved logical and complex thinking, Wyatt was there. However, if you wanted to cook a pot of spaghetti, Wyatt wasn’t your man, having almost burn down his apartment complex eight times while attempting. They may have already been dead and in this… limbo situation… but it didn’t eliminate fire and how much it fricking hurt to get burnt.

Eyes redirected to the said man was ashing his cigarette into another person's drink. Well, that was just plain rude. The girl guessed that it was something to do with his family or maybe even love. That his depression was next level, and she was entirely right. “I have to agree with you on that one.” Wyatt nodded “Not only is his mood bringing down the room, but I suspect his presence within this hell hole is the reason none of us can actually smile”

It was no surprise that the patreon who had coped the drink full of ash made a cry, declaring for her drink and a couple of others to be placed on the cigarette man’s tab. Wyatt couldn’t blame her, nodding in agreeance with her and giving her a thumbs up. “On it” he called back to the poor girl. The cigarette fellow tried to defend himself, motioning that the girl was crazy, that she wasn’t thinking straight, and he had never spoken to her before. “Sure, mate,” Wyatt called back to him, picking up a nearby tea towel and throwing it at him “Do yourself a favour and clean up your mess, hey?”

“Post time!”

Ah, good old Gary. Always on time.

Gary began to make his route around the bar, handing out various letters with that great big grin plastered on his face. Lucky was all Wyatt could think. You would never think that you could miss something so simple as a smile. People would spend years training themselves not to smile towards a camera, but as soon as you reach the Inbetween, it’s all you crave for. As the blessed mailman made his way towards the countertop, Wyatt offered the man a high five in a form of greetings. “Gary the mail man. You have any good news for us today?”

“It depends,” Gary huffed, digging his hand into his giant bag overflowing with letters galore. “I’m hoping the good news is that I get to deliver all these letters within the next five minutes.” he chuckled, pulling out a card to hand to the lady at the bar that stood in their little group, speculating about others. A chuckle. How wonderful it must’ve been to have been able to do such a thing. That bubbling sensation, erupting past your lips and filling you with joy. It had been so long that Wyatt had almost forgotten what it felt like. Gary handed him three letters before tipping his hat and going on his way. Wyatt’s eyes travelled to the three letters now in his hand. It seemed like the normal amount; his parents and his sibling.

“Ah, Kwon Tae. Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you”

A sound of rustling paper caused Wyatt to move his gaze from his own letter to the man being drowned in the many, many, many letters. His mouth hung agape, eyes wide and almost, in a way, jealous. How did he come to have so many letters?! “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself. Oh well, you know the saying. The grass is always greener on the other side. Clearing his throat, Wyatt brought all his attention back to his own letters in his hands. “So,” he turned towards the two girls before him “How did you guys go with your mail haul? Any guesses to who was feeling guilty enough to come and visit your grave stone?”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.