((Hey everyone! I came back and then disappeared, but I had a con to go to. :p There’s a starter in my drafts, so I’ll post that tomorrow and get to my messages and whatnot!))

((Anyone want to start a thread? :3 ))

Anonymous asked,

My God, you've still got it.

((JKLDJSFKLDJFK THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!))

You’ve been doing this a long time; you’re slowing down.

Your name is Lelouch vi Britannia.

You grew up on the top floor of an extravagant mansion in a sweltering city, baking away in the merciless heat that would crash over the continent during the summertime. You still know every corner of that building, every nook and cranny and crack in the plaster on the walls and ceiling. You don’t even have to think longer than a second anymore to try and recall exactly how many paces it took to circle your room, the kitchen, the living room, the entire abode. You know by heart the exact number of stairs between the first two floors. You can’t even remember how many times you counted the seconds it took your tiny, weak little legs to ascend from the ground floor to the top, and how many steps stood between you and “home.” You remember the impeccable, royally colored carpet stained red with your mother’s oozing blood, shattered glass sparkling over the floor like the sun falling east over eden; a paradise. 

You have been fighting as long as you can remember. You have always pushed yourself as hard as you could, and you have never really understood quite why. But you don’t question it, because the world works that way, and everything happens for a reason. You fight the world, and it kicks your ass, time and time again. You have given yourself plenty of bruises over everything you lost; a bruise for every time you lost a chess match, a fight with your older brother, a loved one’s smile. You even gave yourself a few scars, although you always fixed yourself up and made sure you were alright afterward. And anyway, they don’t even really show.

You could feel yourself growing stronger every time, win or lose. Every battle lasted a little longer than the one before it. You were still nowhere near close to beating this foul abomination called “circumstance,” but you were beginning to hold your own. One day you would show the world. One day you would finally prove to everyone that your bones were broken but you were still standing tall, a noble in peasant’s clothing, and then everyone that ever doubted you or cut you down would nod their heads and flash you the smallest, most relaxed and peaceful smile; more relaxed and peaceful than you could ever hope to be, and that would be that. But, war flowed through your veins like blood, and not even a vertical slice could rid that from you.

Your name is Lelouch Lamperouge.

You are eighteen years old, and all you cared about was your student council meetings and history tests. You had friends, purely for the looks of a popular guy like yourself having anyone he could call a friend. Everyone that stood around you were just mere faces in your charade, a necessary backdrop to the lie you lived. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself, even when you began waking up at godawful early hours in the morning and opening your phone, searching mindlessly through your contacts in hopes to feel a little less alone or to catch Shirley in a conversation to feel a little less alone, or hanging out hours and hours after you should have gone to sleep to keep up with Suzaku. That’s what you told yourself, after all, even as you poked merciless fun at Rolo for the very essence of his being, and he took it all with a laugh and that big, childish, snagged toothed smile of his.

You are playing a game, now. You know the rules of Chess by heart, as a noble should; the only goal being to catch checkmate the other “king” before he checkmates you, but you don’t care. The same black and white squares that alternate before you bore you simply as much as life does. Yet, you pick up the black knight in between your fingers, twisting it with a sense of adoration, and suddenly it hits you. Suddenly, your existence makes sense. As you move your chess piece forward, your smile turns into a wicked, cutthroat grin. You never expected it to be so important.

You never expected this.

Your name is Lelouch Lamperouge, and you were playing for the fate of the world.

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((Hello everyone. I’m not feeling better, but my depression has reached a point where it’s either sink or swim, and I’m trying to swim. So, having said that, I’m back to roleplaying in hopes of feeling better about life. Words have always done that for me since I was little, so, let’s hope this works. Please, if you’d like, start a thread and send me the link so we can RP.

Cheers, everyone. And here’s to a new beginning.))

((I just got online since I had my little break down, I guess, and the support I have received is overwhelming. I’ll try and write back to you guys soon, and after thinking for a long time, I’m not going to give up my role as Lelouch or roleplaying in general. I love doing it, and have for ten years.

See you guys soon.))

((You want to know why I’ve been neglecting my Lulu RP account? All because of messages like these, that for some reason, I’ve gotten an influx of lately.
So, thank you, anon. For another push over the edge. I’m sorry I can’t be good enough.))

((You want to know why I’ve been neglecting my Lulu RP account? All because of messages like these, that for some reason, I’ve gotten an influx of lately.

So, thank you, anon. For another push over the edge. I’m sorry I can’t be good enough.))

((I’ll make some posts later today. I haven’t been feeling too well, but I should be okay now.))

(Source: kyouras)

A crown of thorns, a crown of flowers

((This is small AU drabble where Lelouch is visting Suzaku’s grave after his passing. In this world Lelouch was kept alive after Suzaku took over Zero’s title and “killed” the tyrant emperor Lelouch; only to die a short bit later or something like that. So basically Lelouch was still stabbed, and his death was feigned, but Suzaku died shortly after.))

The sky was heavy, on the break of sunrise as morning drew nigh with the last few gray clouds clinging greedily to the atmosphere; trying their best to keep the sunlight from touching the ground it yearned for. The world felt new, the grass still waking up as it crunched below Lelouch’s footsteps. Each new breath the prince pulled into his lungs found itself surprisingly crisp and fresh— it chased out the death that hung in his lungs and it left him feeling alive. Because that’s what life does to you, it gives you reasons to live when you wish to die and insignificant but beautiful things that make you love the world that’s destroyed you. The world that’s destroyed your best friend. And suddenly, the world doesn’t seem like that much of a magnificent place once you start to think about all of it. But you carry on anyways because that’s what you’ve always done— from being casted away from the royal family and having to learn to live away from the safety of golden walls to being the single man that challenges an entire empire and in more ways than one, fails. You keep going because that’s all you know how to do. You keep going.

Today is July 10th and it’s Suzaku’s birthday. The graveyard’s granite skyline peaks just slightly above the hill that stretches out before Lelouch and in just mere seconds he’s reached the headstone that belongs to his enemy, his knight of Zero— his best friend. Things weren’t supposed to end this way. Lelouch was supposed to rise to power, become the tyrant that Britannia despised and in that hatred he would unite the empire and once that king was disposed of by the great harbinger of justice, Zero of the Black Knights, peace would cradled the nation and he would be dead. It was a sacrifice that was his and only his to make, because it had been the prince’s war from the beginning. From Shirley’s body to Rolo Lamperouge’s, to many of his friends and strangers he had never met and would never have to chance to meet— the body count kept rising in his pursuit of justice. He couldn’t continue to live on. It was only fair that his life needed to be given for all of those that he had, in some way shape or form, taken. But, Suzaku, didn’t see the equivalence in the world, the black and whiteness of the checkered board, that Lelouch did and when it came time to dispose of the treacherous tyrant, he couldn’t let his best friend perish. Suzaku took the name and burden of Zero and spared him his life.

There is blood on your hands, and a sword through your stomach, and you no longer know what time it is. Your name is Lelouch, not Lelouch vi Britannia, not Lelouch Lamperouge, not Zero and no one seems to remember that.

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