forum Heat Seeker, I Just Wanna Find the Truth | CLOSED OxO

Started August 23, 2021 by Deleted user

tune

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So I'm digging a Green Lights by NF (music video) kinda vibe in which Character A has something Character B desperately needs/wants. And instead of going about getting this thing in any kind of healthy manner, B decides that the best way to get it is by breaking into A's house, interrogating them, and, when that doesn't work, kidnapping them.

A is half-concerned half-amused about the whole thing, and B is getting increasingly more frustrated at their unwillingness to cooperate. Until something happens, things are revealed, and suddenly A and B have to work together to regain control and get the thing B needs. And somewhere along the way, they fall in love.

I'm going to flesh this intro post out more whenever I get the chance, but that's the basic plot. I'll play A because I already have a character in mind. If you have any questions, just post them below and I'll get to you when I get the chance!

interesting-

Interested enough to maybe join? (Also Tubbo with da bee, what will he do?)

I'm still working out the details, but my basic idea is that Character A is an information broker. Character B is looking for someone—a family member perhaps, or maybe they're out for revenge?—and knows Character A has the information they need. Only problem? Character A already has plans to exclusively sell the info to a client.

But what do you think?

Fshshshsshsh thank you for noticing my adorable boy-

but yes, interested enough to join, for sure.

I like that idea, we could also do this:
Character A withholds the location of a possible buyer (im thinking like A sells like houses or is a real estate agent)
and Character B needs the location of this person for whatever reason-

or this one (my personal favorite):

Character A was the last to see Character B's family member (don't know who yet) at the gas station/ little convenience store they work at, this family member was then robbed and injured (possibly murdered) Character A talks to the police and a little time goes by and Character B hunts Character A down, to find out more about the murder of this beloved family member, little do they know Character A knows about as much as they do.

Well ofc, Tubbo is a chaotic bean that deserves all the love <3

That last one sounds super fun! Plus it takes away the added complications of all the worldbuilding details I'd have to add for the prompt I mentioned to work.
My only real qualm with it is I feel it takes away some of the stakes needed to spur them into working together. Maybe the only thing I'd suggest changing is that Character A not only has more information than everyone thinks they do but that they have some kind of connection to the one who was responsible for the crime. Something is preventing them from willingly sharing that information up until the aforementioned catalyst occurs, at which point they finally decide to help B out.

I'm down to modify this more or less though, depending on your thoughts. Honestly, as long as it follows the enemies-to-lovers kinda vibe and includes a kidnapping, I'm good!

okay so I was thinking, character A knows the minimum amount of info, in which they already told the police and character B seems lonely and helpless so character A decides to help them on their own investigation of the murder.

Im fine with your's too~

(also yes Tubbo is a chaotic bean that deserves all the love-)

Hm, we could go with that angle. I still feel like B should have more of a motivation for kidnapping A (maybe they think A had a part in it for whatever reason), but I'll leave that call up to you since you'll know your character better than I!

Here's my charrie!
Name: Ethan Victor Page
Age: 21
Gender/Pronouns: AMAB; he/him
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance: (Please be specific about factors such as height, face shape, hair, tattoos/peircings etc. Alternatively you can post a picture!)
6'3". Lean, but built enough to suggest he works out. Tanned skin. Round face with a defined jawline, a smattering of freckles, green eyes, and floofy, light brown hair. Tattoos of several puppies on the outside of his right forearm.
—> Outfit: (Once again, please be specific. I know it’s a weird thing to be specific about, but you’ll see why.)
————> Taylor Swift hoodie with this design, black joggers, and yellow Vans.
Other:

• Works at a 24/7 convenience store (hours are WACK).
• Smokes.
• Studying computer science in college.
• Struggling freelance photographer in his free time. People are his favorite subjects.

Personality and backstory can be revealed throughout the rp, so don't worry about posting those unless you really want to! I'll try to get a starter posted before I head to work.

Name: Gilan Luther
Age: 19
Gender/Pronouns: male he/him
Sexuality: Pansexual
Appearance: medium sized 5'7 to b exact. with hair that reaches his earlobes, the top is dark fading to a blonde. He had bright blue eyes, he is skinny, so much so that most of his clothes hang off his body. He his ears pierced, a small gold hoop hangs from his left ear, the other a black cross.
—> Outfit: a pastel green hoodie, oversized black, ripped jeans, which are cuffed at the end, and high top black vans, which have multi colored beads on the front (the part where the lace crosses into the holes on both sides) and a small gold chain which holds a locket, in which a photo of his mother is settled in.
Other:

• his mom was murdered, leaving him in a homeless shelter.

• he likes to draw, realistically.

• he had an older brother who wants nothing to do with him.

_{(This was edited on my phone, so sorry in advance if I didn't catch any mistakes! I tried to finish it before work, but unfortunately, the timing wasn't great. Luckily I had the time on my break! Also heads up that you have permission to rough up my character at any point in time, whether that be through Gilan (who I love by the way) or a temporary character used to advance the plot. All I ask is that you consult with me before any potentially life-threatening/altering injuries.)}

_{(Side note: This post does have cursing. If that makes you uncomfortable, let me know so I can censor things both in this reply and future ones!)}

“Stupid, shitty lock,” Ethan muttered, jerking the key in its slot and jamming up on the knob until the door finally clicked open.

He sighed as soon as he stepped through the threshold, tension bleeding out of his posture. He toed off his shoes and started to toss the key into the nearby bowl but hesitated, fixing the door with a critical look. The last time he left his key in the bowl, his roommate had snagged it and then accidentally locked him out for an entire weekend while she partied in another state. Even though Maya wasn't supposed to be back until Tuesday, he really didn't want to get into the habit of leaving it out for her.

With a yawn, the tired college student tucked the key in his hoodie pocket and set off to the bathroom to get started on his nightly routine. Along the way he worked on untangling his earbuds, humming in satisfaction when they finally came undone. He quickly plugged them into his phone and pressed shuffle on whatever playlist he'd left open on Spotify last, bobbing his head along when 'Hot' by Confetti began to play.

In the midst of brushing his teeth, as usual, he decided now would be a great time to multitask. He wandered out of the bathroom to start putting away the dishes he'd set out to dry earlier that morning, getting more and more into the song as he let the stress of the day melt away.

He finished setting a plate on a particularly high shelf, so caught up in the music that he decided to perform an enthusiastic spin and lip sync in time with the final, "'Cause I'm the hottest motherfucka' that you ever seen!"

It was at that exact moment, stood with a cup held out like a microphone and a toothbrush hanging halfway out of his mouth, that he realized there was an intruder right behind him the entire time.

"Oh shit," he cussed, toothpaste dribbling down his chin as he scrambled back against the counter.

Gilan held the gun in the direction of Ethan's chest, he had already researched Ethan, learned everything was to learn about him, but the main part he was concerned about was the fact that Ethan saw his mom, literal seconds before she was murdered by an unknown person, whether that be a mugging gone wrong, a potential stalker or what, Gilan didn't know, nor did he care, the reason his mom was murdered wouldnt matter in the end.

His hands trembled violently, but he managed for hand holding the gun to stay in the general direction he wanted, he kept his other hand in the pocket of his hoodie, he inhaled sharply then finally managed to say

"I-I don't want to hurt you." He gave a soft frown, he really didn't want to hurt Ethan, honestly. But he needed him, he needed what the clerk of the convenience store knew. The police had already talked to him, he knew that. But the police had written his mom's case off as a simple burglary gone wrong. His hand trembled more, which he ignored with a straight face. He knew his mom's murder was beyond what everyone thought, Gilan knew this simply because when he was little, due to them being poor, they lived in poor neighborhoods, which resulted in his mom always telling him, if anyone stopped him while he was alone, to give them whatever they wanted, and he knew she followed her own advice.

She was murdered for a reason, and he knew that the entire thing was more than it seemed.

"I just want to know everything you told the police about the murder of my mom" he said quietly enough for only Ethan to hear.

"Please I need to know everything, anything you can remember about that night at all. We can even sit down, and you can get comfortable if you want, just please…help me out here, I know she would've given that person her purse, if they tried to mug her, so I know something is going on, so please, help me out because no one else will." He said, his voice small and squeaky.

Ethan's panicked eyes were locked on the barrel of the gun, but at the intruder's tone, he forced himself to look past the weapon and instead at the person holding it. The first thing he noticed was the grief-stricken face, something that struck him as odd because who breaks into someone's apartment just to stand there looking like that someone kicked their puppy? Ethan would never kick a puppy! He loves puppies!

Realizing his thoughts were straying, he shifted warily and focused on the second thing he'd noticed; the shaking hand wrapped around the gun. The intruder claimed he didn't want to hurt him, and the inexperienced way he held the gun at least implied he didn't do this kind of thing often. Uness he's faking, his mind supplied unhelpfully.

The fact that the guy wasn't wearing any kind of face-covering or monitoring what he said worried him. For all he knew, the kid would shoot him dead the moment he heard whatever he wanted to hear. Surely he didn't want Ethan alive to describe his face or his connection to the victim, especially when he'd already made a promise to inform the police if he remembered anything else. Just because the intruder said he didn't want to hurt him, didn't mean he wouldn't.

Which left Ethan in quite an uncomfortable situation. So he did what he always does best: stalled.

"One, uh… One second," Ethan mumbled nervously, holding out a hand cautiously to let the guy know he wasn't trying anything stupid. He set the glass on the counter behind him and turned around to spit the toothpaste into the sink, every one of his instincts protesting at displaying his back to the guy with the gun.

That done, he slowly moved to face him again. "Look, kid," he started, wiping any remaining paste off his chin with his sleeve. There was no doubt in his mind that the kid before him was just that—a kid. Maybe seventeen at most, if his small stature was anything to go by. "I'm sorry about your loss. I really am. And—And normally I'd be willing—happy, even, to tell you everything I remember. But—But normally people don't, don't break into my apartment and threaten me with a gun!" he said, his voice rising in pitch as he gestured jerkily towards the weapon in question. His thoughts flicked to his phone and the music still playing faintly from his dangling earbuds, but with the kid watching him like a hawk, there was no chance he'd manage to call anyone before he could fire off a shot.

"I mean, did—Did knocking or, or just asking politely ever even occur to you?" he rambled, watching the intruder's face carefully for any indication he was pushing too far.

Gilan sighed and gave a angry frown, his hand wrapping tightly around the gun, he squeezed its handle so tight, his knuckles turned ghost white, and his fingers started to hurt, nonetheless he kept pushing his skin into the handle.

"I'm not a kid." he stated quietly, trying not to speak to much, so Ethan didn't know he was scared, possibly even as scared as he was.

He cleared his throat and exhaled shakily, he slowly took lowered the gun, not fully, but enough to where if Ethan tried anything he could lift it again. He had spent months missing his mom, missing his bed, missing everything before the murder.

He felt lost, helpless, lonely. He had no one, and no one cared for him anymore.

"Look, i'm not gonna hurt you I swear, and i'm sorry for breaking in, but I knew if I would have knocked, you would've told me you already told the police and that you didn't know much and then shun me away, just like everyone else." He stated coldy.

Ethan stilled, following the movement of the gun with wary eyes and slowly mirroring the move with his arms.

There was a lot to unpack there, but he didn't want to push the kid—who, now that he actually looked, might not be a kid after all—too far and risk having him snap.

He was silent for a long moment, heart still hammering in his chest.

"Your name is—it's Gilan, right? Gilan Luther?" he finally asked. "I'll… I’ll tell you as much as I can, but only if you put the gun down. Look, I'll even—I'll even do this," he said, slowly pulling his phone from his pocket and facing the display towards him, holding down on the power button.

His finger hovered over "off", but he didn't press it, waiting for Gilan to put the gun down before following through.

This is such a bad idea, the logical part of his brain reminded him, but he hushed it for now.

Ms. Luther, while he hadn't known her well, was a sweet enough lady. If this was truly her son, then Ethan would try and give him the benefit of the doubt… or, at the very least, as much benefit of the doubt he could give to someone who broke into his home and threatened him.

Gilan clutched the handle of the gun so hard now, that his palms hurt, probably because the grooves of the handle were being indented in his palms.

He squeezed it like this for a solid minute, then lowered it, his grip loosening, and finally bending down to put it on the floor, his eyes had began to form tears and he broke into a silent sob, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks.

He kept his gaze on Ethan as he wiped his face, so it it was still a bit pink, but tearless. He then inhaled sharply

"im sorry–but my mom, she was all I had, she was my– she was my world and now shes gone–im just–just trying to figure out what happened to her." He said through a shaky, sad toned voice.

"Shit, man," Ethan mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing at the open display of emotion. His eyes flickered briefly to the digital clock on the stove and he mentally resigned himself to missing his morning classes. Maybe he could shoot his engineering professor an email if he was still alive in the next few hours.

He sighed softly, then clicked his phone off and set it on the counter behind him. He shot Gilan an appraising look, clearly more at ease with the weapon on the ground. "You drink coffee?" he asked, apparently deciding the teen wasn't going to shoot him as long as he didn't do anything stupid.

Without waiting for a response he headed over to the coffee maker and pulled the pot from its holder, venturing back towards the sink to rinse and fill it. He kept Gilan in his peripherals the entire time, only finally speaking when he had the pot sitting under a steady stream of water.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he finally said, his voice solemn. "I know the circumstances are a lot different, but I know what it's like to lose a parent." He let that hang heavy in the air before turning to face Gilan again.

"You look like her. The shape of your face, I mean. And your eyes," he added, gesturing vaguely towards the teen. "I don't look anything like my mom, so I guess I'm a little jealous."

He paused, the brief humor in his eyes fading to a somberness as he thought back to the night in question. He was reluctant to begin, worried that his lack of information might spur Gilan into reconsidering his earlier statement about not wanting to hurt him, but it wasn't like he could just make things up, either. "I…really don't know much. I mean, one second Ms. Luther is walking out the door with her items, and the next, I'm being questioned by a bunch of police officers who say I was the last one to see her."

Ethan took a deep breath, clearing his throat as the lingering anxiety and grief for a woman he barely knew settled into his chest.

"I'm—I was the only employee there that night, you know? I hate working nights, but my boss needed somebody and I needed the cash. I'm already basically living paycheck to paycheck as it is, which is—which is a different issue, it doesn't really matter. Anyways, your mom i—was…one of our regulars. We used to mention her because she was always so nice to everyone, but it was pretty obvious she was having a hard time," he explained carefully, eyes darting to Gilan's bedraggled appearance and hoping he didn't take offense. "She always talked about her son and so, Ashley, a, a coworker of mine, managed to convince the boss to let some of us start a donation box for people who were financially struggling. It's a year-round charity kind of a thing. This was a couple of weeks before…you know…" he trailed off.

"But um, yeah. We kept tabs on the dono box and used those funds whenever someone wasn't quite able to cover the cost of their trip, or when someone tried to steal something like a bag of chips or a drink or whatever. We'd just, just use the donations for them, 'cause it's obviously not in the best part of town and we wanted to help with what we could."

Realizing he was deviating a bit from the story again, he paused to collect his thoughts. "It was probably rude of us to assume, but we all figured we would use the donations to help out your mom. But…she never needed them. Not once. She always had her money counted out perfectly, her card never declined, and we never had an issue running any checks. We tried a couple of times to pay for one of her items, telling her she should save the money for something else, but she always refused."

The sound of overflowing water caught his attention and he quickly shut the tap off. His eyes wandered over to the pantry to Gilan's right, and then the teen himself. "Would you grab the coffee? It's on the bottom right shelf, red bag," he asked, voice far softer than a moment ago.

After pouring out some of the excess water in the pot and wiping the sides dry, he started speaking again. "The reason I'm saying any of this, the reason I brought up the donation box or whatever, is because on the night she—she died, she didn't have any kind of payment with her. I don't think she planned on coming to the store, but I didn't notice any other red flags like she was running from someone or trying to get somewhere. She seemed a little stressed, maybe, but I kinda just chalked it up to her job."

"She ended up asking if I could grab her a pack of blue 305 hundreds," he recalled. "I remember that specifically because I hadn't ever seen her buy cigarettes or smoke. She never even smelled like smoke when I saw her, but I mean, you would know better than I… Anyways, she kept apologizing and saying that she'd come back to pay when she got the chance, and I trusted her and everything but I told her not to worry about it. I mean, if she came into the store at half-past midnight with no money looking for cigarettes, she must have really needed them, right? So I just used some of the money from the donation box to cover it."

He glanced at Gilan, searching his eyes for something like validation. "The police didn't seem to think it was weird, but it is, right? I mean I didn't know her very well, but it just seemed out of character. Maybe…maybe if I told someone she…" he trailed off, swallowing back an emotion he didn't want to deal with.

Ethan blinked, glancing at Gilan again after a long moment. "Do you have the coffee?"

Gilan had grabbed the coffee from where Ethan had told him it was; in the midst of him talking about his mom, he didn't realise until Ethan asked about it, that he had been listening so intently, so violently; he was gripping the bag of coffee grounds so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

When Ethan did address the whereabouts of the coffee, Gilan loosened his grip and handed the bag to him gently, to show the other boy he had been listening, and really cared about what he had to say.
Unlike the police he thought to himself briskly.

Gilan took a seat at the bar, where he could still see Ethan, he rested his arm on the counter, the other he kept up, pressing his palm to his forehead, he was thinking about why his mom would have purchased the cigarettes in the first place, she didn't smoke, or at least from his recollection of the life they spent together, she didn't, only once when he was about 13 and she smoked in the car on the way home, because Ethan got suspended for fighting his bully, who in his defense; made fun of his financials and his single mother, so Gilan punched him, pummeled the son of a bitch, and won. She had told him that day on the way home in the car, as she pulled out a cigarette; rolling down her window and lighting it, he remembered her hands being so shaky, he had to light it for her. That she had expressed that schooling was the only way for him to get out of this shit hole of a city.

Gilan finally spoke, after a few long minutes of silence, he gave a nod before he spoke and said

"yes– I suppose it is quite out of character for her, as far as I know she had only done that once in my life, and the history behind that specific memory, implies that she only did it when she was worried, scared and stressed all at the same time."

He scrunched his brows in confusion as well as a will to understand, finally he gave up and sighed, he was thankful Ethan was nice and cooperative, while Ethan made the coffee, he kicked the gun under the sofa in the living room.

"I would like to add– tell me if you think this has anything to do with her murder– that as far as I know, from what she told me, she was seeing someone, she wouldnt tell me who; as I was supposed to meet him a couple days after she passed, and I looked for him at the funeral and the burial, but I didn't see any men that would look like they were dating my mom, but then again i'm not sure, but I know he smoked cigarettes, not one hundred percent what kind though." He said, his voice separated and quiet, as if he were reliving the entire painful process.

"Thanks," he returned quietly, still mulling over his thoughts as he measured out the grounds and switched out the filter with a new one. Before long the pot was brewing, and it was only then he realized he'd fully looked away from Gilan while he worked.

His gaze instantly snapped to the teen just as he kicked the weapon under the sofa, and Ethan relaxed a little more in spite of himself. He didn't comment on it, though, merely listening to Gilan think out loud as he crossed the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge and rummaged around for a moment, grabbing a square container and returning to the counter to set it in front of the teen.

"Leftover macaroni salad," he explained, pulling two spoons from the drawer to his right and setting it on top of the container. "There's a lot, so help yourself. The coffee will be done soon."

With that done, he pulled a chair around from the side of the counter Gialn was seated at to the opposite, not allowing himself to start trusting the teen just because he listened when he asked him to put the gun down. He grabbed a bowl off the rack he hadn't finished putting away before sitting, then popped open the container and shoveled an impressive amount of macaroni salad in one scoop, given the size of the spoon.

Finally settled, he rolled up his sleeves and rested his cheek in his palm. "So what you're getting at is either your mom was either worried, scared, and stressed enough to smoke, or the cigarettes were for the person she might be dating?" He paused, clearly considering the choices. It felt good to be searching for an actual reason, rather than just pushing the matter to the back of his mind and pretending it never happened.

"What um… What was your mom's job, if you don't mind my asking?"

(you changed your name– I like it)

"she was a caseworker for the state– the kind that decides when a kid gets taken from their home– lots of unfit parents hated her for that. It could have been one of them trying for revenge, but I think she might have been buying the cigarette's for the guy she was going to see, and decided to smoke one on the walk because she suspected she was being watched– when the police searched the crime scene they found a half cigarette, the saliva on it told them my mother had been smoking it– i'm assuming the guy– or woman attacked her while she was holding her hand to the light, so it would catch–since it was pretty windy out that night." He supplied this information with a scrunch of his brows.

Gilan lifted the spoon Ethan had sat down for him, and dug his spoon into the macaroni salad, lifting out a tiny amount, and lifted it to his mouth, he then swallowed it quickly, repeating this process after about 30 quick bites of macaroni salad, he sat the spoon down and sat his back against the bar stool.

"I think maybe the next step is finding the guy she was seeing– do you think that's a good idea–?" he asked Ethan, he wanted Ethans approval, he know that he must feel guilty somehow, and Gilan resented him feeling that way.