Hello Neighbor (IC)

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)


Happy Ambiance

A long week of hard work and perseverance has brought you to the weekend! And not just any weekend. But the weekend.


Block Party Weekend!

Moss Creek has held this event as tradition for several years running, in which every member of the community bands together to throw a celebration. All to welcome our newest additions to the family--you! So don't be a sour puss. It's a beautiful Friday evening! This fall night is crisp and refreshing. The scent of sizzling hotdogs and hamburgers are permeating throughout the area. Children's vibrant and soul-lifting laughter are at an all time high. And the boisterous chatter of neighbors--no, family members are steadily rising by the second. All that's left is for you to jump into the fun and get to know your lifetime friends!

So, what do you say, neighbor? Won't you come out and join us?


"Jerry! Slap down two more dogs for me and Dahlia, would ya?"

"Comin' right up!" Jerry said with a wink, tossing two more dogs onto the grill with ease. And perhaps a hit of pizzazz. What could Jerry say? He loved showing off and now was as good of a time as any. "You want some crisp on that, Bill?"

Bill, who had been lounging in a lawn chair, raised his half-empty Coors Light and nodded. "You know us damn well, Jer! Crisp it up!"

The praise only succeeded to swell Jerry's chest with even more pride. He took great care and time when it came to grilling. Hell, his line of awards hung up around the den of his house was a true testament to how much he loved cooking. Baking. Grilling. The whole shabang. Nothing was too much of a challenge for Jerry. Watching the pleased smile splitting people's cheeks as they ate his delicious creations was just icing on the cake. Oh yeah... when it was Annual Block Party, he knew it was his time to shine.



He took a moment to adjust the tie of his "Kiss the Chef" apron before yelling back, "Can do! Oi, make sure to lemme know when the newbies show their faces, yeah? Gotta get to 'em before Phil does." Jerry spat out Phil's name with playful venom, not at all missing the mentioned man's scoff from next door as he tended to his own grill. Like Hell Jerry would let Phil reel in the new guys with his half-assed grilling. Not on his watch!

Bill laughed, loud and long as he draped even further into the chair. He took a quick swig. "You know I got your back, man! Better watch out, Phil! Jer's not playing games with ya ass this year!"

"Come into my yard and say that to my face, punks!" Phil shouted, an amused smile pulling at his lips. Begrudging, but amused.

"Nice try! You aren't gonna make me burn my dogs that easy!" Jerry shot back.

The three men continued their loud banter for quite some time. Nearly every house in the culdesac and further down the block were alight with life and vibrancy. A handful of families had already started hefting out fireworks, as night time had rolled around a few hours ago and a comfortable coolness tinged the air.

Further down the street, music boomed from a stage holding a small band. The lead singer belted into her gold crowned microphone, her sweat-soaked hair flipping with every snap and bob of her head as she bounded about. A majority of the crowd was gathered around that stage, filling up the street with body heat and intermingling voices singing along. A majority of the songs was a combination of mainstream hits, upbeat guitar, and indie pop music. Perfect mood. Perfect unity. Perfect everything.

Now, if the newbies would just show up--then they could really get this party started.





Tags: KatSea KatSea , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , and Iceydaze Iceydaze
 

Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
It was an incontrovertible truth. Small towns meant social gatherings. She'd known it when she lived in Levittown and it was no less a fact of life in the here and now. It wasn't that Nora was anti-social... But forced fun with complete stranger sounded a lot more like torture to the young teacher's aid than entertainment. But Nicole had cornered her in the teacher's lounge Friday afternoon and asked her what she was bringing amd things had snowballed fairly swiftly froom there.

Meandering through the crowd of hot, sweaty bodies, carrying the fennel and citrus salad over to the food table, Nora was waylaid almost immediately by a cheery, perky voice that shot a chill down her spine.

"Oh my God! Nora you came! Yay!" Approaching, flanked by two other women, Nicole and her minions cut Nora off in a semi-circle, "Do you know Kim and Pam, Nora?" Nicole chirped, gesturing to the two interchangeable women beside her.

Bracing the bowl in the crook of her arm, Nora shook the extended hands, "I haven't. Hi, there."

"Oh my God, Nicky. You're so right! She's adorable!" KimPam chirped.

"That little accent! She's darling!" PamKim responded.

"Right?? Here, sweetie. Lemme put that down for you." As Nicole wrestled the salad from her arms, Nora opened her mouth to say several things, before thinking silence might be better.

"You have got to try Jerry's hotdogs Nora! He is a miracle worker on that grill!" One of the blonds continued, with a twittery laugh.

"As if! Phil is the grill master!" The other countered, with her own teeth-number chitter.

"I uh... I don't actually eat meat." Nora stated, and from the looks she received from the three women, one might've thought she'd proclaimed a love for throwing puppies on live land mines, "It's not that I don't want to..." She added swiftly, idly wondering why she felt any need to justify her actions, "It's an allergy. I get sick from it."

"Oh. Gross." Kim and Pam uttered together.

"Poor thing." Nicky put out a hand to pat Nora's arm, "No worries. There's plenty else to eat."

"Right! Thanks. Hey, excuse me a sec? I think I just saw someone I know!" Nora forced a smile through as she bypassed the circle of traumatized Stepfords and ducked into the brunt of the crowd, praying to disappear.

God, she needed coffee.


"Yes, Aunt Bea. I'm well aware... No, I know. Please... Would you please stop shouting? I don't really see how any of this is... Yes, but... Okay, could you just... Listen! I'm about to walk into a party, okay? I have to go. Just... I'll call them later, okay? Bye."

Finger sliding along the end-call, Sage took her free hand to her forehead, pinching her brow with a small sigh. Less than three minutes. That's all it had taken before her aunt had started in on her... Incidentally, the drinking problem her father had always had, and the fact that her mother was a ball of walking stress was somehow Sage's responsibility, both in fault and to fix. Somehow, though, it didn't surprise her to find she was the mastermind of her family's ruin. She was always to blame when she didn't fall in line...

And even then...

Rubbing the pins and needle sensation from her shin, she rose from the bench and tucked her phone into her pocket. Then, letting one last wave of solitude wash over her, she crossed the street from the little park, wandering back towards the sounds of music and laughter and the smell of rich, over-processed comfort foods.

As she passed the tables, she plucked a small string of grapes from a fruit tray, then made a beeline towards the stage. It wasn't her style of music, but it wasn't half bad for a small town cover band. As she listened along, mulling on a grape, she tapped her foot to the tune and idly watched the crowd.


"Navi! Would you... Just slow down, would you?" Hellhound of a dog was driven mad by her lust for saltbrined pork products, and there was nothing Simeon could do to stop her. It was his fault, he knew. He'd fed her nothing but the best since she was a pup, and she was spoiled rotten. But he was pretty sure the stark white german shepherd was gonna rip his arm from his socket if she jerked any harder at her leash, "Navi! Heel!"

At the bark of a command, Navi stopped and with a whimper that sounded suspiciously like a child whining, Navi circled back to Simeon's side, nudging his leg with her fat, fluffy hindend.

"You stop pouting." He muttered, mouth full of guilt, "Behave like a lady and I won't need to use the 'dad' voice." Reaching down, he scratched the center of her head, between her ears and as her tail flipped rapidly back and forth, her tongue lulled out of her mouth with a happy pant.

Chuckling, Simeon continued on towards the grilling range, and pausing a little ways off, sweat beading on the back of his neck from the exponential increase in heat, he called out, "Any chance you've got a spare dog for the cannibal, here?"
 
Last edited:
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Jofie de Saint-Montpellier | Interactions: Nora Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Block Party


Who the fuck? Why the fuck?

How the fuck has Jofie not wrapped both hands around someone's neck yet? This was damn ridiculous. He had a whole mind and a half to call up his probation officer or, Hell, any figure down at the office and complain until his voice ran dry. How in the actual fuck did they think it was okay to dump his ass in the middle of Live Action Tele Tubbies? He couldn't stand the endless optimism of this place. It made his skin crawl. And blood boil. And eyes roll so hard that they'd likely get stuck in the back of his skull one day.

A goddamn block party...

"Oughtta drop a bomb in this bitch..." Jofie grumbled while studying his reflection with as much gusto as a last minute bridesmaid whose interactions with the bride barely stretched beyond two coffee dates. He didn't want to go out there. With every party came a crowd and with every crowd came a spike in the Dumbass Headcount and with every dumbass came a face that Jofie needed to punch. Repeatedly. He'd much rather stay in, heat up a TV dinner, and binge Netflix. Wenthworth was getting damn intense...

Regardless, he knew that the neighbors wouldn't stop banging on his door anytime soon, so he had relented. And now, as he made some final adjustments to the collar of his jacket, he figured he was ready to go. Kind of. His eyes briefly strayed up. "Don't fuck me over, Big Man."

Stepping out of the house equated to stepping into an entirely different dimension. The music practically quadrupled in volume and came through with ultra sharp clarity, pounding angrily against his eardrums. He grimaced, both at the noise and the instant body heat washing over him. "Nope. Nu uh. This some bullshit already." He wanted to turn around. God, he wanted to so badly. But Jofie had come this far. He couldn't be a punk and chicken out now. However, he'd done a decent job avoiding conversation. All greetings were deflected efficiently with withering glares and snarky sarcasm, (such as "You remind me of my ex. She was a bitch." and "I lost my ceremonial machete. Mind lending a hand, pal? ...Am I joking? Don't know yet. Depends on you.") so it hasn't been terribly annoying yet.

That is, until some bitch decided to bump into him. Or maybe he bumped into her. Perhaps both. Either way, none of those evaluations stopped a grimace from pulling at his features and he glared down at the woman, a cup of lemonade straining within his grasp... And then the expression vanished. In its place was the charming smile. The award-winning face that he slapped on whenever his sarcasm and fury ran extremely high. "Somebody's in a rush, aren't they?" Lips pursed, he scanned the crowd around them briefly before focusing on the woman again. "Would it be a waste of energy to hope that you're itching to get the fuck out of here as much as I am?" He sipped his lemonade, briefly hiding his smirk.
 

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Henry "Ami" Solom



You know you can avoid this celebration in a lot of ways, Henry. There are many, many wonderful ways you can keep your heel dug the doorframe and refuse to follow little miss sunshine out the door. You know, the bathtub provides a good amount of water. Just...slip inside for a while. Feel the fresh water plummet over your face. Or perhaps take the fork and shove it straight into an electrical outlet. Sure, that would be more scarring upon Zal to find the body, but hey, it's quicker than a dramatic, emo ass drowning into a tiny ass bathtub. Henry blinked at the thoughts accumulating in his hollow skull. Dear God. Despite his many protests of residing in a town filled with carbon copies of facade happiness, and his constant paranoia that he was going to be pulled asunder and become as mindless as the pleasant neighbors who would say a brief hello on his way to work. Disgusting. Socializing. Henry was never going to understand the notion, no matter how much Azalea claimed it would help his mental state.

The worst thing was, this was the mean thought that Henry hadn't experienced in two months. Certainly, it wasn't easy adjusting to the jovial atmosphere of his little prison, but much to his surprise, he was receiving improvement. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, that his work schedule and constant need to take care of a house hold would provide him comfort and distraction. He would rather die than admit that the neighbors hospitality hummed a gentle appreciation within him. Right now, he despised the idea of forcing himself from the comfort of his leather chair, Four Seasons residing comfortably within his lap. However, his head pipped up as Azalea came sliding in, fuzzy pink socks and all.

"Ami! Quick Purple blouse or sloth sweatshirt." She questioned, the sweatshirt having already been draped over her. Daintily, she pried the zipper down with her pinky, revealing the second shirt in question. Eyes beaming, she pointed to the first option, then to the second, then to the first. Ami's eyes flickered back down to Apt Pupil, expression disinterested.

"You already have both on, just go like that." Lips baring back in a graceless, barbarian yawn, Ami's head leaned back into the leather material and was unable to prevent the theft of his beloved book. Plucking it from his hands, Azalea(in her wonderful consideration and equally irritating practices), folded the page of where Ami had finished.

"Fine. Then you are going just like that." She swept her hands dramatically in gesture to Ami's less than elegant clothing, a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Regardless, Ami rolled his eyes and brushed back whatever remaining hair dared trespass into his sight of vision.

"It's a deal, short stuff. Let's get this out of the way, I don't want to shrivel underneath the love and attention for long." Ami claimed, a brief roll of his eyes scorching the already damaged tissue(from years and years of the rolling sport).

"It's gonna be good for you!" Azalea claimed with utter most confidence, gently sliding the book onto the coffee table and taking her brother's hands into her own. With an ancient, hidden strength, Azalea plucked her brother from his seat, catching him off guard and nearly causing him to stumble from the sudden jerk. Catching his awkwardly swaying body, Azalea grinned and helped him stand straight. "You are gonna actually talk to people instead of grumble and do your obscure gang gestures." She cooed, throwing up her hands in an exasperated groan to express her point. Ami's eyes refused to brighten, despite his own sister's warm grin.

"I'm still gonna do that, munchkin." He vowed in a low growl, ignoring the care of his sister as she fussed with his stray locks. She pouted, cheeks pink and happily chubby. "Stop. Stop making me look like I haven't just woken up." He swatted feebly at her hands, and within moment's notice, she began to swat back in a playful manner.

"Even I can't do that! But I can't have girls hurling at your godawful appearance! I'm saving their lives not yours ~" She cooed, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before skidding behind him and hopping up onto his chair. Her back barely arched by the height of the ceiling, and with a dedicated hum, she fumbled with Ami's appearance. Slumping in defeat, his eyes fluttered back and a soft grumble began to make it's way from his lips.

This was gonna suck.

----

Ami was right. This was horrific. The buzzing noise of each insignificant conversation that fluttered about him, the heat that pestered his skin from the sizzling of mediocre food...Yet some comfort was provided with the gentle squeeze of his arm from his sister, who was merrily assisting him into the crowd. Ami would have stayed home, for certain, but he knew better than to let his little sister go alone into a large gathering with several, older men. No no. Ami may have been a dickwad in the finest, but he wasn't about to let his little sister worry about such things. If it meant a little bit of his sanity and a little bit of his mean thoughts coming back into light, so be it then.

"Is it over yet." He mumbled, only to receive several pokes to his upper arm. A shrill sigh pounded against his gritted teeth. He took it back. Maybe the safety and comfort of his little sister wasn't worth the last remaining shard of his sanity. Even if she was just a little cute munchkin(those goddamn puppy eyes).
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Bay Christiansen | Interactions: Peggy | Locations: Block Party


Bay... could live without this party. She really could. She could appreciate tradition and how excited the community was to properly welcome the "newest members of the family", but all of this noise and... and people. So many freaking people. A dull ache resonated within her chest, just below the diaphragm, taunting her, reminding her that she could hyperventilate at any moment if she wasn't careful. By all means, she technically felt fine. Nothing about the atmosphere seemed to overwhelm her or anything. She handled the excitement just fine. However, her seizures could be fickle little buttholes and the triggers were hard to pin down sometimes.

Great. Really. She loved this so much.

Not.

Now, what she would really love? To spot a familiar face. Granted, she didn't have many to pick from, partly her fault for not being the most social butterfly around. But still. She had lost track of Sage a while ago, as she had went out earlier than Bay, so there was only one other person Bay could look for. But, knowing that awkward maniac, she could be somewhere that Bay could never guess--

"Sneak attaaaaaack!"

Bay was wrong.

She heard the exclamation long before the actual attack came. Turning around within the bustling crowd, Bay squinted and managed to pinpoint that signature yellow hair speeding towards her. Peggy. Good ole wackjob Peggy. The banana-head woman had one hand raised in an exaggerated chop, apparently closing in to land a--quote--"sneak attack" on Bay. Wasn't really much of one if she announced it twenty seconds before the actual strike...

Grinning in amusement, Bay shoved her hands into her pockets and merely stood there. Full eye contact. Body relaxed. As soon as Peggy was front of her, she raised a hand of her own and blocked the incoming chop. Her smile widened lazily. "Sneaky indeed."

Peggy blinked at her foiled attack. Then at Bay. Back at her hand.

Then took a step back to bow over and over. "I worship your skill, Sifu Bayou. I am but a meager peasant groveling before your majestic feet." A pause, before she straightened up and draped onto the woman with a woeful sigh. Her weight was held up without any issue, Bay barely budging as she arched an eyebrow at her friend. "Can I be like you when I grow up, Sifu Bayou?"

Bay chuckled, a brief and soft sound, before ruffling Peggy's hair. "Nope. You can stay yourself, though. It's for the best," she said. That earned a coo from Peggy, who had been grinning contently from the head pats before standing on her own feet again and giving Bay some proper breathing room. Well, as much as one could have in this tight-knit crowd. "Oi! What did I tell you about slathering me in butter??"

"That it's weird when you say it like that?"

"Yes."

Bay snorted. She should've known that comment was leading nowhere. All of Peggy's sentences tended to do that.

"Anyway, I'm starving like Martin," Peggy said. Bay almost wanted to point out that it was Marvin, not Martin, but she couldn't bring herself to rain on Peggy's parade (although that was humanly impossible). "Think I'm gonna check out Phil's wieners. You coming?" Peggy trapped her tongue between her teeth, clear mirth and mischief dancing across her features. Bay's countenance twisted.

"You... are gross."

"Grossly loved?"

"Maybe..." A beat. "Definitely."

Beaming, Peggy seized Bay by the arm and dragged her into Phil's yard.
 
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Reactions: Iceydaze and KatSea

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Fox Quincy



"Un, deux, trois..." Fox muttered mindlessly under his breath with each rise of his chest. His own tongue felt as if it was suffocating him. Alone. House. Teeth burying into his lip. "Quatre, cinq, six..." One exhale. Then another. Hand pressed firmly against his chest. Heart rate elevated. Weird. No external stimulus to suggest danger. Alone in the home. Simeon and his dog left before. Silence. Weird, encasing silence. He thought joy would bloom from the peace. "Sept huit neuf." Nails digging. Crescents, deeply embedded into pale, soft flesh. Fox didn't understand. Peace. Quiet. Nerved. Homesickness. Lilo. Forceful embraces. Long hours slumped on the couch. Chest rising and lowering, guiding her head. Loneliness. Fox assumed that's what the unidentified stimulus had to have been. Fear of the unknown lurking with no one else present. Yet. Big groups. Crowds. Loss. Speaking. Yelling. Loud. Loud. Loud.

"Un, deux, trois..." A hard swallow travelled down his throat. Legs numb, heart elevation continuing. Linear. Up. Up. "Un.." He propped himself upon his elbows. Push off from his seat. Another swallow. Eyes dart back and forth from chair to chair. How Simeon does not find this behavior bizarre I am forever grateful for. Even Lilo would mention...Un deux. Trois...Missing, Lilo? Perhaps? No. No. Anxiety. I don't know from what. Identify the problem, then solve. Problem. Problem...Air. Can I breathe?

Inhale. Exhale.

I can. Too much space?

Fox took two steps forward. No collusions. Quiet. Quiet.

Balance. Too much space. Not enough mass. Too much mass outside. Not enough in here. Which is worse. Which...Noise. Silence. Space. Mass. Mass. Noise. Noise. Noise....

"Un, deux..." Inhale. Steps taken towards the door. Lilo would be proud. Friends. Didn't want Fox to be lonely. Fox was. He missed the ballpoint pen against his skin. The gentle coo of appreciation with each song of praise for the woman. Not enough mass. Too much space. Quiet. Quiet.

Need to make her proud. Otherwise left her like a fool.

Exhale. Steps taken outside the door. Fresh air entering his lungs. Eyes fluttering in appreciation to the world around him. Noise. Noise. Too much mass. Mass with thoughts. Thoughts with owners. Owners with lives. Lives with events. Events. Events. Lives overwhelming. Years worth of memory. Memory. Memories with people. Connections. Too many. Red string. Mind to mind. Too much to think. Too much to know. Too much mass. Too much thought. Too much to analyze and absorb. Simeon was here. Navi too. Lilo needed pride. Pride. Fox could do it.

He followed the scent of meat, mouth watering. Hunger? That could not be the problem. He would have known. Fists clenched by his side. A gentle nibble at his bottom lip. People. People. Walking past people. Food? Food. Good. If Fox panicked, he'd at least have something out of the event. A scrunch of his nose. Bobbing of his head towards people. A smile on occasion. Smiles hurt. Smiles pierced the side of his mouth. Smiles only felt good when reserved.

Un, deux, trois, quatre...

---

Translations - Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre, Cinq, Six, Sept, Huit, Neuf - One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Shilia | Interactions: Anton | Locations: Halverson's Household

Shilia.jpeg

"Too much black?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure? I know that you're accustomed to my... tastes, but perhaps I should reconsider..." Shilia adjusted the cuffs of her oversized cotton sweater. The sleeves were obstructing her hands altogether and despite how fruitless the efforts were, she kept rolling them up in hopes of settling any concerns partygoers would have about the presence of her hands. No, they were not amputated. And no, she did not have freakishly short arms. This sweater was just freakishly long and bought ages ago in the middle of stress-relief shopping.

Thank God she had dropped that pesky habit.

Sighing softly, she turned to face her brother. Anton was relaxing on Shilia's bed, having enough patience (only reserved for her) to help her decide on an outfit for this block party. He personally thought it was stupid and a waste of time, but his sister was always... fretful when it came to first impressions. She'd never want anyone to get the wrong idea about her. Never again.

"Did you even look?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"Yep." Anton's gaze was firmly locked to the ceiling, tossing a little red stress ball up and down. So simple. But damn soothing. Simple was soothing. What wasn't simple was dealing with a mass of people he didn't even know. Where was the point in that? All he needed was his sister.

Shilia crossed the room and plopped down next to Anton. With the grace and agility of a snake, she snatched the ball out of mid-air before he could catch it. Then gently chucked it at his forehead. The little thing bounced off with a cheerful thunk, then rolled to the other side of the room. Anton deadpanned at her, clearly unamused. The look did little to lessen Shilia's smirk and in the next handful of seconds, he found himself admitting defeat and flashing a tiny grin of his own. "Brat," he muttered.

"Jerk," Shilia immediately countered. She laid down, the back of her head resting against his stomach as she sighed once more. "...I still think you should go with me."

"Not a chance."

"Oh, come on now." She gently slapped his arm. "I just... I'd like to see you make some friends, Anton. At least one."

"Like you're one to talk," he shot back.

"I am indeed talking. So please listen."

Anton grumbled a nonsensical response, but heeded her word anyway and fell silent.

"As I was saying... You're a great guy, Anton. A bit prickly and stubborn and defensive at times--"

"I'm feeling so great about myself, sis."

Shilia raised a finger. "But... you have a good heart. A massive one. And I hate to see you stalking around here alone and miserable." Her voice dipped in volume, nothing more than a feeble whisper. "Anton... aren't you tired of feeling miserable? I know I am."

Silence fell over the siblings for a moment or so, one party holding her breath while the other tried to find the right words. He understood Shilia's concern. He really did. But he didn't need friends. He had a job. A home. And her. That was all he needed. He was perfectly fine. At least, he figured he was. But, then again, when one feels numb for so long, they tend to grow numb to that as well, leaving them none the wiser... No. He was just overthinking. Again. He gave Shilia a nudge and as she sat up, he did so as well. "I'm not miserable. You can go make friends or whatever. I'm good in here," he said.

But then he saw his sister's face fall with disappointment and the guilt threatened to burn him inside out. Goddammit. That sad look... It was unfair on so many levels. Jaw clenched tight, he heaved a tired sigh while running a hand through his hair. "Fine... Fine! I'll go or whatever, but I'm not faking smiles or whatever like the rest of people here," he grumbled--

Shilia enveloped him in a tight hug. "Thank you. Get dressed, I'll meet you outside." Before Anton could process anything else, Shilia was out of the room and racing downstairs in probably the most upbeat mood he had seen radiating from her in weeks.

He grinned. This was gonna suck big time, but that smile on her face was worth it.



Anton | Interactions: Shilia & Sage Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Block Party


Anton decided to wear his best top... which also happened to be a black cotton sweater. It was a tad awkward to be matching with his sister, but screw it. He wasn't in the mood to bound back upstairs and change, so they opted instead for bounding into the street. Into the heart of the party.

He instantly hated this.

Shilia patted his arm while gesturing to a long table of snacks and tray food. "I'm going to grab something and meet some people." She shot him a pointed, pleading look. "Try to be at least a little social?"

"No promises," Anton said, rolling his eyes in pure exhaustion. Shilia knew that was the most she could get out of him, so she settled for a hum of agreement and gave a brief caress of his cheek. Motherly. She always had been with him. As soon as she disappeared into the crowd, Anton found himself immobile, not entirely sure what to do with himself. He wasn't hungry. So the table and grills were out of the question. The games were overrun with children. He had no issue with kids--he rather liked them, but they tended to not like him back. Something about the Resting Fuck Off Face, he guessed. Thus, that only left him with the stage, which held the most amount of people.

Great.

Reluctantly, he squeezed into the cheering and jumping crowd, his energy like bog water in comparison to theirs. It was a glance to this right that made him realize (with some relief) that he wasn't the only one lacking everyone else's optimism. He didn't recall seeing this woman around before. But, then again, he rarely paid attention to community members. With an almost awkward air about him, he yelled out to her over the music, "Who even is this? Don't know these guys at all!"

There. That was a normal ice breaker, right?
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Collab Post: Parties Suck, Part I | Interactions: Jofie & Nora Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Block Party

Escape. Sweet, sweet escape. She could almost see it. Just needed to get past the crowd, out of the square and she was free. Just a few steps more and… WHAM. The brick wall was unexpected… and yet somehow, Nora should’ve seen it coming. What she didn’t expect, however, was the unbridled snark coming from the obstruction. Looking up, she was almost surprised to see a smile plastered on the man’s face. Almost. Trouble was, there was next to nothing genuine about the expression, and while that hardly shocked her in a town filled with plastic emotion, it didn’t quite fit the words the man uttered.

A brow rose, and strangely enough, Nora found the first genuine smile on her own lips as she shook her head, “...I would cut my own arm off with a rusty hacksaw if I thought it would get me out of this nightmare… but knowing this town, I’d probably just find someone stitching it back on with their emergency sewing kit they pulled outta nowhere, while someone else lectured me on the hazards of using unsanitary tools and the newspaper recorded it all for their latest issue.”

Jofie has run into and dealt with a lot of people in his life--both inside and outside of prison. And yet, as he listened to this woman ramble on, he knew for a fact that he had never heard someone utter so many damn words in the same breath. How in the actual fuck did she even do that? Smile faltering ever so slightly with annoyance, he took another sip of lemonade, just a moment needed to keep his temper in check, before muttering, “That’s damn gorey for a little thing like you… And you talk a lot.” The last bit was said as an obvious statement. A fact that settled sourly in the pit of his gut.

“Yeah, well… You asked.” Giving a shrug, Nora looked away from the man and back to the crowd. For a moment, she thought she saw one of the blonde clones coming through the throng and ducked, just slightly behind the large, angsty man, “How long does this shindig normally last, anyway?”

Did… did this bitch just use him as a shield? From what? Curious, Jofie peered in the general line of vision that this woman seemed to be avoiding and couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. Oh… this was golden. Unperturbed at the thought of talking to his back, (people have always told him that his head was too far shoved up his ass, anyway) he said, “Touche, little thing. Touche… So, uh, something tells me that you’re not back there just to cop a feel.” He gestured casually ahead of him, though the women were gone by now. “And I doubt this Hellfest is ending anytime soon.” He glanced over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow. “You gonna stay there all day or…?”

“I mean…” Giving a pointed look downward, Nora gave a shrug, with a small smirk, before casually peering around him. False alarm. Thank God. Stepping out from behind him, she raked her fingers through her hair, “Sorry. Just… You ever meet someone who makes you wish you were in a coma?” Looking up at him, she grinned slightly crooked, “Know what? Don’t answer that.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Jofie’s brow arched in higher at the downward glance. He cleared his throat, pointedly taking a small step away from her. Okay. Yeah. This bitch was definitely different--just not entirely in a good way, if he had any say in the matter. He made a motion to raise a cigarette to this lips, only to remember that he didn’t even smoke anymore. Fucking ticks. Eyelids fluttering with annoyance, he feigned rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully, as if mulling over her question more than he actually needed to.

A faint grin pulled at his lips. “You don’t get to tell me what the fuck I can or cannot do,” he said before shrugging, “And hell yeah. Met plenty of them. Some, I wish I could put in a coma, little thing.” In all honesty, he’d rather not imagine such a thing. He’d been in one before and it sure as hell didn’t feel like he had taken an extended nap. All those memes and myths were damnable liars.

Then he paused, realization hitting him slowly. “Unless you’re content with little thing, I need a name.” Another pause. “Little thing.” He knew he had yet to give out his own, but he preferred to hold off on that kind of information until the other party handed it out first.

“Normally have a higher tolerance for people, but this is just a special level of crappy social enforcement. They drag folks out for this party on a yearly basis?” There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to make her less uncomfortable, and ultimately, she knew it wasn’t just the party. It was the memories it spurred… Fancy gatherings at the Summer house. Being jammed into a frilly lace dress, hair curled till her head hurt. Paraded around and forced to do some mind numbing song and dance number with Heather. Heather would always, always try to outdo, and usually did, because Nora never cared enough to put in the extra effort… God. It was like being back there all over again.

Shaking her head, she glanced up at him again, with a glimmer of amusement, “Cause if I wasn’t content, you’d stop calling me that?” She asked, with another chuckle, “It’s Nora.”

“So the flyer says,” Jofie hummed. He couldn’t understand it either; this event was borderline sadistic. Any form of social enforcement--as Nora put it--was just downright disturbing. Fuck any nutjobs who thought otherwise. However, when he had enough sense to look at her again and stop wondering how many dumbasses were floating in the sea of bodies around them, he took note of an almost distant glimmer in her eyes. As if her mind took her elsewhere. But it only lasted a moment--just a moment. Then she was back.

“Not really, no…You could be constipated and I wouldn’t give a shit,” he said, gaze narrowing ever so slightly. That was definitely a pun, but his suspicions steamrolled over the pride he could’ve felt from it. He swore to God--if this bitch was as weird as he feared and was on some kind of looney toons drug, he was going to rage. Against… something. He didn’t know yet. But something. Either way, he had just enough manners left in his arsenal to hold his hand out and mutter, “Jofie. Not Jo or Fefe or any bullshit like that. Just Jofie.”

“Classy mental image…” She grimaced lightly, shaking off the mental picture that gave. He might’ve been a snarky bastard, but he was still easily the most legitimate person she’d met yet, and that might’ve been the only thing keeping her from walking away. His hand extended, and Nora reached to give it a shake, firm and steady like Daddy taught her, before returning her hands to her side, “Anyone who calls you Fefe, and is over the age of four, just hates you… FYI. Whatcha do around here, Jofie?”

She had a firm grip. Formal as all Hell. Not exactly what he had expected, but definitely didn’t let his mind marinate over the observation for long. He nodded. “The damn classiest, little thing. And yeah,” he snorted, eyes darkening briefly as a memory jumped to the front of his mind, “I’d say the asshole hates me plenty now after I gave him a black eye. Served him right. Fucking Fefe. Who the fuck even does that…” He trailed off into disgruntled grumbles, residual annoyance bubbling to the surface. However, Nora’s question helped to derail his thoughts and ground him back in the present. His grin widened ever so slightly. Teasing. Subtle. “Talking to you, aren’t I? The only damn tolerable thing to do around here.”

However, before he could say anything else, his gaze snapped up and he spotted a familiar figure approaching from behind Nora. Oh… this could be entertaining. Jofie shrugged again. “Apparently gonna talk to Beverly Hill Barbie too.”

“Served him right, for sure.” Nora agreed, with a small smirk. It brought to mind the time she’d socked Wayne Balacast for calling her Tiny Tits in seventh grade. Despite her reassurance to her mother that he’d survive without his front tooth for a few days, she’d been grounded for a solid month, but hell if it hadn’t been well worth it. Especially since it was exponentially harder for him to say ‘tits’ with a lisp.

A brow rose at his answer, bringing her own mind out of her thoughts and with a shrug, she grinned, “I’m not gonna disagree with you on-wait what??” His eyeline had transitioned and she turned in time to see Nicole working her way through the crowd, straight for her. Spitting a soft swear beneath her breath, Nora reluctantly raised a hand to return the woman’s perky wave with a flick of her wrist.

“OH sweetie! There you are! Turned around you were just gone. Oh my goodness! I didn’t realize you two had met! Nora! You little vixen. Sneaking away from the girls to chat up old Fefe.”

Nora bit back a snort as the name left the woman’s lips, recovering by clearing her throat, “Just met, actually.”

As soon as the accursed dared to leave this Barbie Bitch’s lips, it took the might and will of Zeus himself to keep Jofie’s fury below boiling point. His nostrils flared, standing out grossly against his painfully feigned smile and pleasant eyes--

Splash!

The cup of lemonade in his gasp bended in two, the beverage spilling over his hand and dripping to the gravel. Without breaking eye contact with Nicole, Jofie managed to force out between clenched teeth, “Holy Hell, aren’t you just a damn plastic… I mean pleasure to meet, Nicole.” Strangling her was inappropriate and wrong. Strangling her was inappropriate and wrong. Strangling her was inappropriate but would it really be that wrong? Yes. Probably. And that truth made his anger grow tenfold. Regardless, his saccharine tone remained. “Weren’t you just with Ken? He misses you. Go find him.”

Nora had to fight to keep her composure, both as the lemonade cup met an untimely end (that Jofie no doubt was envisioning as Nicole’s slender, pearl-bedecked neck) and at his unfortunate slip of the tongue that she imagined wasn’t half as accidental as he made it sound. Nicole seemed stunned, but only in that he’d managed to splash some lemonade on what was obviously expensive shoes, and stepping back with a slightly sneery smile, she shrugged, “Does he now? I guess I should go and find him then. I’ll see you at school, Nora, dear.” With a twittery laugh that dripped with artificial sweetener, she waved and wandered off.

Breathing out, Nora shook her head, “Oh, damn. I was really hoping she’d stick around…” She deadpanned, before looking up at Jofie, “Impressive restraint. I don’t know what’s more depressing. That there’s actually a Ken in this bunch of Stepford weirdos or that she thinks anyone misses her when she’s gone. Hell, I need some coffee…”

As soon as Nicole’s punk ass back turned to face Jofie, he instantly shot her the middle finger and didn’t lower it until she disappeared into the crowd. He would’ve raised two fingers if it wasn’t for the ruined cup in his grasp… Oh fuck. That was right. Now he didn’t have anything to drink--more importantly, a way to hide those millisecond grimaces from view. Well, shit… Now he was completely wrung dry of motivation to deal with these walking talking mannequins.

“Yeah, me too,” he grumbled. A little bit longer, and he was certain she’d give him a legitimate reason to dropkick her all the way to Chinatown. Bitch. He shot a brief glance down at Nora, grunting a bit in response. He was still in the process of cooling off, thus he had to measure his responses carefully. If not he’d end up spitting something a tad too acidic to be considered playful in her direction. “The saddest truth lies in the fact that I wasn’t able to chuck her across the road.” Heaving a sigh, his shoulders visibly slackened, if only slightly, as he addressed Nora in a somewhat lighter tone, “Coffee… doesn’t sound too bad right about now, little thing. I’m about done with this bullshit party scene.”

“If you want, I could totally unscrew one of the wheels of her chair come Monday morning. Or glue a desk drawer shut…” She was teasing, mostly, but if she didn’t loathe the idea of seeing the woman again… on a daily basis. If she didn’t love those kids so damn much, she’d have taken up a job as a street sweeper or mortician or something. “Thank God.” Nora chimed, with a grin, “Lead me the hell outta this desert, Moses, before I lose what’s left of my damn mind.”

Surprise slowly seeped into Jofie’s visage, a crooked smile pulling at his lips until he flashed teeth. “...Don’t tempt me with a damn good time, little thing. You ever need a sidekick, I’m in.” However, his features pinched as an afterthought struck him. “Well, you’d fit the sidekick role better, but details… Moses, huh…” Yeah, right. Comparing Jofie to a biblical figure, whether it was a joke or not, was downright heinous. Even he could admit that to himself. But still, if he was Moses, it sure as Hell would be nice if he could split the sea of people in their way… But for now, they’d stick to the sidewalk and walk around.

“Don’t get swallowed up, little thing,” he said while grabbing hold of her wrist and guiding her through the crowd. “Lucky for both of us grumpy mother fuckers, I’ve got a Keurig, mugs, and no problem turning on the sprinklers if any of these fake fucks try to walk on my lawn.”

“Sidekick, my ass. The tiny ones are the ones you gotta watch.” She grinned, and as his mitt of a hand looped around her scrawny wrist, she hopped into stepped behind him, sparing no thought to the idea of leaving behind the crowd a little early. She couldn’t fathom, now, why she’d gone in the first place… Probably just instilled in her… and that was a depressing thought if ever she’d had one.

“Oh, Jofie…” She mused, as he continued, feigning a sober expression, “You are the hero we all need, and don’t deserve. Fine… I’ll be the sidekick, but I’m not wearing spandex, so don’t even ask.”

Jofie had to bite the inside of his cheek at the tiny comment, almost mentioning that he was only watching one tiny sidekick at the moment. However, he held fast and rolled his eyes instead. “Ha, ha. Sides are fucking splitting. But, I don’t know, little thing,” he grinned again, “You’re already reading minds and shit. Just might be hero material after all. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll keep my ego on lockdown. Five seasons on my high school chess team have taught me nothing, if not how to nail my pride to the door.” With a shrug, she breathed out. Free of the crowd, the air had a welcome chill to it, energizing and refreshing away from the stale, sweaty bodies and the smell of packaged hotdogs and over-buttered popcorn. It wasn’t her cup of tea, for sure, but at least she’d gotten the opportunity to see Nicole knocked down a peg or two… But she was glad to shed it behind her and not have to think on it for another year.

“Fucking nerd,” Jofie mumbled as they scaled up the driveway of his home. He had already released her and unlocking the door, beyond eager to get away from these wackjobs before another Nicole clone locked their sights onto them. Screw that. As soon as the door opened, he stepped aside, arms folded in an almost guarded fashion while nodding inside. “Err… after you, or whatever the fuck you say when guests come in.”
 
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Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
“Oh, you have no idea…” She admitted with a shake of her head and a saucy grin, “But to be fair, I was in Field Hockey, too… so I was a nerd who kicked ass with a big, hefty stick.” With a wink, she passed over the threshold, looking around briefly, before turning back to him with a small nod, “That works. You know… you should get that all written down on a welcome-mat… slap it outside. It’s poetic.”

Jofie grimaced. “That…” His nose wrinkled. “...Actually isn’t a damn bad idea, little thing. I’m taking notes.” A mat like that would help keep people away from his doorstep, right? Hopefully. He entered behind Nora, turning on a second lamp near the main couch to illuminate the den a bit more. It wasn’t terribly dark beforehand, but he figured having a visitor meant that the home had to be well-lit. Obviously, he wasn’t used to having company, so he was just winging it as he went along. He waved a hand dismissively towards the couch, “Take a load off, mind-reading, nerdy ass, field hockey stick chucking sidekick.” Jofie disappeared into the kitchen, though the open format of the area allowed him to still hear Nora.

It was always amusing, and somewhat a breath of fresh air, to be welcomed into a home without any traces of phony formality or hospitality. There was no one waiting to take her coat, no one offering her an hor devour that tastes like shoe polish or alcohol she was too young to drink. She didn’t need to worry about knocking over a priceless Chinese vase or scuffing the marble. As she crossed to the couch and sat down, hands folding in her lap, she looked around at the utter normalcy and breathed in, sighing out relief, “Oh… That’s a hell of a mouthful for a superhero name. We’re gonna need to shorten that.”

By the time Jofie had popped the pods into the Keurig and leaned against the counter, waiting for it to work its magic, he huffed in amusement before shooting back, “Shorten anything else with your ass and you’ll be a whole goddamn gnome hobbling around my house.” The first mug was filled and with expertise, he slid the second mug in and popped in a new pod.

“You know… I am considered above average height for a female…” She chirped, narrowing her eyes at him, “Just cause you’re a frickin’ giant.” Sinking back into the couch, she inhaled the scent of coffee brewing, and let her eyes fall closed for a moment, savoring the smell of God’s greatest gift to mankind, “And I’m at least two inches taller than my sister. So there’s that.”

It wasn’t long until Jofie was rounding the corner with two mugs full of coffee and he instantly caught the mild glare tossed his way. He answered the look with a knowing smirk. “If you’re shorter than me, you’re a fucking midget. If you’re taller. A fucking giant. I’m the perfect height. Simple as that.” Ah, yes--narcissism, his old friend. “And sound the alarm…” He sat down next to her, holding out her mug. It was ceramic and rather artistic--definitely homemade. And… covered in pink petals floating against a chalk white background. His own mug was pitch black but accompanied with an abstract splattering of electric blue. “You’ve got a sister. As if one of you isn’t enough.”

“I love this whole… center-of-the-universe vibe you give off. It’s very zen.” She remarked with a smirk, before reaching to take the mug. Her eyes studied it for a moment, a brow raised in curiosity, but she said nothing, instead taking another inhale of the liquid inside, before, eyes closed, she blew the steam from the top and took a sip, with a murmur of approval, “...You better pray you never meet my sister. Heather is a bigger pain in the ass than old Nicole and KimPam combined…” Eyes opening, they twisted over to him, “Spent my whole life trying to measure up to her, and it took too damn long to realize it wasn’t worth it.”

“You’ll come to realize that I’m the fucking zenest man you’re ever gonna meet.” Jofie was about to take a sip from his own coffee, but fell still and watched Nora in amusement. She was practically worshipping the offered beverage and although he could somewhat understand the feeling, he couldn’t help but watching, thoroughly entertained. However, as soon as her eyes opened, he looked away and finally took a sip. “Sounds like you’re describing Satan,” he muttered while grimacing. However, when she tried to lock eyes with him, he avoided it at all costs. Eye contact wasn’t his strong suit. At least, not when he wasn’t in the mood to manipulate anyone. He shrugged. “What can I tell ya, little thing? Sometimes it takes a lifetime to realize that kind of shit.”

“...Oh, I believe it. Friggin’ Buddha, over here…” She grinned, and taking another sip, considered his words for a minute, “Pretty sure Satan takes notes from my sister…” It was said with a note of jest, but there was a glimmer of truth behind the words, however ridiculous they sounded, “Not really, but hell if she didn’t enjoy making things challenging. Anyway…” Taking another sip, she rolled her eyes, “That’s a hot mess for my therapist… if I had one. You ain’t wrong though… Half of why I came here was to get away from it.”

“You mean minus the fucking planet for a gut and earlobes dragging across the floor?” Jofie had a hunch that every single word in that sentence was highly offensive, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not by much. As he listened to Nora, he studied the top of his mug with a far off gaze, his conscience falling back into his mind as the wheels turned slowly. Finally, he said, “Guess that explains where that far off look of yours came from. Shit haunts you, doesn’t it?”

Looking him over, she studied him for a brief moment, “So… Fit Buddha, then.” Giving a passive shrug, Nora returned to her coffee. As he continued, his reaction not entirely what she’d anticipated, she blinked, and taking a thoughtful sip, nodded faintly, “I mean… not in some emo-cloud-hanging-over-my-head-guess-I’ll-shop-at-hottopic-now kinda way. But stuff like this? Forced ‘fun’... kinda brings it out. My parents were big on social gatherings. Mainly parties that involved showing off how much dad saved by paying his employees a crap wage. They’d prance Heather and me out in front of everyone and make us share all about our ‘big wins’ that year. Took its toll after a while. Started to worry I’d run out of crap to spill… so I started filling my schedule with too much. Half downed in it before I realized I was over my head.”

Again, Jofie just listened. This woman had a fair share of things on her plate, which he had predicted, but not to this degree. And even then, his gut instincts told him that maybe there was more to learn… but he wasn’t one to pry. Let alone someone who tended to get close enough to others and want to pry. It was in that moment that he wondered how in Hell he got in this position. How in the hell did she manage to get into his house? Why was he suddenly listening to Nora’s woes, after just meeting her less than an hour ago? His head was nearly spinning with questions, but he kept every ounce of the sentiment on lockdown, visage indifferent. No matter. Come tomorrow, they’d part ways and he would treat this like some wacky dream.

Another sip. “Well? You’d say you’re above water now? Or still paddling?” he asked.

Still looking into her coffee mug, Nora reached for the metal chain around her neck and pulled it free, casually showing the charm on the end - a hollow circle within which was a triangle - “When it got really bad, I started taking medication to keep up. Ritalin I didn’t need… Took me bottoming out in the middle of a mathletes competition to wake my parents up. Sent me to a twelve-step and told the neighbors I was traveling abroad for the summer. When I got out, I cleaned myself up, and decided I was done. Done with that life, with trying to impress people… So yeah. I’m pretty good, now. Just get a little edgy without coffee, but I’m pretty sure that’s just cause I tend to be kind of a bitch, anyway.”

And there it was. He knew there was more, it just wasn’t exactly the route he expected this conversation to travel down. Either way, he supposed in a roundabout way it explained why he was able to tolerate this woman for so long. Perhaps too long. Lips pursed in something akin to being impressed, he hummed to himself while studying the necklace, before placing his mug down on the coffee table. On a coaster. He fucking hated those ring stains. “Not a bad journey at all, little thing. I can…” Understand that. “Get behind that. And don’t worry.” His smug smirk made a swift comeback. “I can handle bitchiness. And I can spot them. You’re not even on the fucking radar.”

“Yeah, I mean… I coulda used a GPS or something, and the food joints on the way kinda sucked, but I got through it and I’m not too mad where I ended up.” A brow rose and she chuckled dryly, “Not… the actual location. This town is… wild.” Looking over at him, she tucked the necklace back beneath her blouse and grinned slyly, “...I’m a little offended. I like to think I’m plenty bitchy. I once borrowed a library book… and didn’t return it. And… didn’t pay the fine. I’m a damn beast.”

Jofie shrugged. “Ya also can’t be picky about that same journey when you want the destination that bad. You take what you get, say fuck it, and keep it moving. Like ya did.” However, his smile turned somewhat impish upon hearing her dastardly book story and he couldn’t help but gasp lightly in faux astonishment. “Nora, Nora, Nora…” he sighed while shaking his head in disappointment. His hand gave a brief twitch or two in his lap. He palmed it with the other one, forcing the tick to die out. “I’m feeling pretty goddamn scandalized right about now. Me, in the presence of a book thief… I take back what I said. You’re a fucking savage.”

“See… Fit Buddha. You’re just chock full of philosophical crap. But you’re right, and I’m not sorry, even if it’s not where I figured I’d end up. Hell… just knowing how pissed my parents are that I didn’t go on to be a lawyer or doctor or… saint or something makes it all worthwhile. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade my job for anything.” Giving a shrug, she finished off her coffee before she set it down on a coaster beside him, having caught the look he’d given the table earlier. Her gaze drifted, briefly, and from her peripherals, she caught the twitch, but said nothing, “...Damn straight I am. Best part is, I never even read the damn thing. I think I got it in a drawer in my bedroom somewhere. Just a reminder of my rebellion… My trophy.”

“Think that’s the only variation of “you’re full of shit” that I’m willing to overlook,” Jofie said, just barely holding back an eyeroll. “Where do ya work now? Professional Harasser… Hired Thief… Barbie Bitch Magnet…” He listed off the options, each consecutive one droning with sarcasm and mirth. The amusement nearly doubled as a snort nearly escaped him, though he was able to hold back in the knick of time. On the downside, he nearly choked, and had to cover his mouth with a fist while looking away from Nora. “Little thing… New trophy,” he coughed, “New fucking trophy. That’s just damn sad and you know it.”

“All of those… But also I’m the new teacher’s aid for the elementary class. I get to wrestle bugger-munches all day for half the pay Barbie makes, and somehow, I still haven’t driven my car off the bridge. Guess I’m a masochist.” Giving a shrug, she chucked, “For real, though, it’s the kids. They’re the only damn things in this town worth having around, half the time.” He laughed, or tried not to, and a laugh bubbled up from her as well, as she shook her head, “Listen! I would’ve gotten shipped off to boarding school if I did that kinda crap around my parents. That’s edgy for me.”

“Living the mother fucking dream, little thing.” Jofie cleared his throat one last time, a thin wave of annoyance intermingling with his lingering laughter. He prided himself for keeping composure around others, but he had actually choked on his own damn snort. Terrible. Pathetic. Regardless, he shoved his emotions back down into the pit of his being like most healthy individuals did and shot Nora a deadpan look, head knocking to the side. “Uh huh… You were so fucking edgy that you gave the book a papercut. Respect. But, hey,” another shrug, “Guess most people would say that’s a good thing or whatever. Definitely not measuring success with how much of a fucking edgelord you are.”

“Gave the book a papercut… You know what? I don’t even care… I’m using that.” She couldn’t imagine having this conversation with anyone else in Moss Creek, but hell if she wasn’t going to at least try to slip it into a casual conversation, if only to see the brows raise in astonishment and confusion. Maybe she was a little bitchy, “Alright… I… should probably go. Because I am not gonna be one of those people and sit here till things get awkward and we run outta things to talk about.” Rising, she brushed out the wrinkles in her skirt, “Cause this was actually… not completely awful, and in this town, I’ll take that as a small miracle. I’ll see you around, Jofie?”

He waved at her dismissively. “Be my guest. People tend to use my genius shit anyway.” However, he couldn’t help but look at her fully this time, surprised as she announced her departure. That was… easier than he thought. He didn’t whether to sigh in relief, drown in suspicion, or huff in… No. Not disappointment. Something else, surely. Either way, he nodded and stood as well, rolling his head. “You’re fucking awkward no matter what, little thing, but think what you want.” Some cockiness infected his grin, hands in his pockets once more. “Well look at that. We tolerate each other… It’s a damn miracle indeed. Maybe you were onto something about that Moses shit, huh?”

He held out his hand again. “I’ll see you around, Nora. And uh… one more thing?”

“Ha! Right. I’m the awkward one…” She grinned a little, shaking her head, “Whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep at night.” He rose and she gave a small nod, with a chuckle, “Yeah, now you just gotta part the red sea and rescue a nation and I’ll be impressed.”

With a wink, she started to move, before he continued, a brow raised as she paused, “Sure, what’s up?”

“...Try not to stare at my ass next time. Felt a little violated there,” Jofie said, returning her wink.

Looking him up and down with a point glimmer in her eyes, she shrugged and smirked, “...Hell if I’ll make that promise. Bye…” Wiggling her fingers in a wave she was pretty sure would probably just annoy him, she made her way back the way they’d come in and slipped back out into the cool night.

The longer she stood there, listening to the music play, the more her leg began to twitch with irritation, and she silently cursed the increasingly chilly weather, while trying desperately to ignore it all the same. The singer was enthusiastic, and the passion that filtered through the vocals and instrumentals made the music all the more enjoyable, even if it wasn't exactly what she cared for. After a while, her foot began to tap gently on the ground, until the motion made her flinch and swearing beneath her breath, she shifted her weight into her other leg.

"Who even is this? Don't know these guys at all!"

The words caught her just through a lull in the song, and glancing over, Sage blinked softly, before a bright smile formed on her lips "Oh! I don't know, either!" She explained, giving her head a shake, "They're good though, right?" Shifting again, wincing as her leg twitched uncomfortably, she bit her cheek, "Not my jam, but definitely good..."
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Anton Halverson | Interactions: Sage Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Concert Stage


Anton was wholly and fully prepared to look away as soon as the words escaped him. The music was downright blaring, so loud that his very bones shook, and the cheers erupting around him didn't help. He didn't think the woman would hear him to begin with. However, her response came, faster than he expected, and he found himself blinking a bit in surprise. Maybe even a hint of "fuck me, here we go". Why did her sister think this was a good idea? Hell, she knew how he was. Knew how terrible he was at this. But now, Anton had no choice. He had jumped this deep into the pool, might as well keep sinking until he hit rock bottom.


"They're okay!" he said, head tilting somewhat in begrudging agreement. He just wished they would cover less mainstream stuff. But, then again, his tastes were practically never played on well-known stations. Indie and Contemporary stuff, acoustic, instrumental, orchestra--that was where his ears resided. However, his eyes snapped down curiously to her leg, catching the pained wince. The fuck...? How did he not notice that earlier? Did it hurt her to stand for too long or something?

He held his hand out for a shake, ignoring the sweat already gathering within it. It was so damn hot--all these jumping bodies around him were ridiculous. "Anton! You wanna sit down somewhere?!"

Was it him or did the music just get louder?
 

Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
He seemed slightly perturbed, and really, Sage couldn't completely blame him. It was loud, and the group was growing bigger in volume, and despite the coolness in the air, there was a sticky sort of heat that came from too many bodies clumped in one place. It was overwhelming, and the longer Sage stood there, the more she started to think how it might feel to be trampled by such an enormous throng... The music was good, but was it really that good?

A hand shot out, and blinking, Sage looked to it, before taking it, giving a small shake, slightly truncated by the gnawing irritation in her shin. She nearly bent to rub it, before realizing he'd introduced himself and she was being rude, "Shoot, sorry! Little distracting, here... I'm..." Frowning as the music seemed to only increase in volume, she raised her voice, "Yes! Please?" And she gestured to the outer edge of the crowd, moving as quickly as her leg would allow.

Half limping by the time she'd arrived to the bench, she collapsed with a small wince, "Augh... You'd think I'd be used to this by now. Cold weather comes every year. I'm Sage, by the way. It's nice to meet you, now that I don't have to shriek at you like a crazy person. Don't worry about the leg..." she motioned to it vaguely, fingers wiggling over the scar that ran a good three inches along the side of her shin bone, "I'm part cyborg, is all. No big deal."
 
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KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Fox Quincy



Miserable idea. Foolish. Down right suicidal. Fox was meant to pass his genetic material. This action prevented the future of such survival of his species. People. Too many people. Not enough space. No. No. Empty space does not exist. Vacuum. Everything is mass. Everything surrounds. Fox shared nothing. Nothing. Yet they were close. Close. Taking over. No one needed his mass. He didn't need their's. Simeon. Simeon. His dog. Where? The one place he could try to share.

There. Wild creature domesticated. White fur. Soft. Endorphin building. Fox trudged behind women he wouldn't remember the next five minutes. One was blonde, he thought. The other one was auburn. Giggling. Watching his calculated movements. Robotic. Devoid. One step. Two steps. He knelt beside the white dog, ignoring any possible stares that could be shot his way. His fingers gingerly dug behind the dog's ears. "Good. Not a waste of space." He pressed his nose to the dog's muzzle. Precious. Didn't talk. Didn't have complex opinions. No trigger words. Nothing to set him off. Nothing to make the creature unable to tolerate Fox.

His eyes didn't even bother to hover up to Simeon. He did not care if his roommate gave him a glare. Endorphins rushed through his veins. Relax. Relax. worth the space around him. Worth. "Oh my God! this is the cutest puppy I ever did see!" Fox's eyes shot up. Girl. short hair down to her chin. Brunette. Red lips. Open blouse. One button. Inviting, but not promiscuous. Gentle smiles. Big shine in her eyes. Reminds me of Lilo. Sweatshirt. Sloths? Casual. Open. Relaxed. "Oh my God! Are you the proud owner?" She wiggled her fingers towards Fox, causing heat to gather in his cheeks.

"His." He mumbled, gesturing to Simeon as the young woman stroked the dog's fur back and forth, cooing a gentle lullaby that Fox couldn't identify.

"You all good here Zal?" An alien voice called, causing Fox's muscles to tense considerably. No. No. No more people. No more people. No more people please. God. Is. There God? Big Bang. Big. Universe. Please. Let me live long enough to spread offspring. Fox slowly got up from his knees, bobbing his head considerably and slipping back through the crowd, his nails piercing the skin of his scalp.

"Un. Deux. Deux. Deux. Deux."
 

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Henry "Ami" Solom
Interactions: Shilia Mobley Eats Mobley Eats




Azalea owed him. Big time. First she ran off to go say hello to a random stranger's dog, and despite having seen several of these people in his area of work, and certainly, Azalea most likely knew a lot of these fools that buzzed around like maggots, shedding their horrid skin to become fluttering creepy crawlers. Azalea darted off without any warning, however, leaving the man's chest heavy and overwhelmed with tremors that struck down to his nerves. God damn kid is gonna get grabbed by someone and horribly used. Over. And over. Again. and again. Don't let her get caught, Henry. Don't let her slip through your fingers. Don't let the creepy crawlers feel her...don't let them use her...Over. and over. Until they bore. and they will bore. They never have mercy. Don't let her slip into the oily and grimy hands...D o n t d o i t A m i.

Henry's eyes screwed shut as his teeth pierced his bottom lip harshly, breaking the skin as his nails dug crescents into his palms. Prying his gaze back to Azalea, he stumbled after her, making direct eye contact with the man on the other side of the dog. There was something empty in his returning gaze, but the longer Henry looked, the more he realized the man was panicked, rather than aggressive. The man swiftly got to his feet, disappearing into the crowd. Henry's eyes narrowed, turning back and forth before he got a gentle tug to his sleeve.

"Oh relax, Ami. Go hang out! Get some food, something to drink! I'm gonna go adventure a little bit. Im gonna be fine...Silly Billy." She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, his smile snagging against his flesh.

She's gonna get violated because of you. Because you l e f t. They will find her in a dumpster Ami...no clothes...ashamed...dead. Because you l e f t. V i o l a t e d A m i....

"You gonna be okay on your own?" Ami mumbled, eyes darting down to his sister's big, pink pout. Yes. She would. Logically, Ami knew she would. The likelihood of her being nabbed by a creeper crawler or otherwise being physically harmed was low in such a crowded setting. And yet...

"Yes. Ami. Stop being so worried...Go get food! Have fun! This is a social gathering, Henry. Go do it, maybe you'll meet a girl or two ~"

You might as well considering Wicker will never fuck you again. Oh God. You remember her in your arms. Lying chest to chest, her warmth your drug. Your craving. You said those words to her that day. And she loved you for it. You loved her for it. Now there's nothing. Just fucking idiots and the fear of your sister getting hurt.

Ami swallowed. He couldn't be having these thoughts. Not right now. Turning his head from her, he shook his head. "Alright kiddo. But you are meeting me back at those tables in fifteen to twenty minutes, okay? Or just...just text me. Something." Ami placed a brief kiss to his sisters head before slipping out of the crowd, guilt building in his chest. Bad idea. Bad idea. B a d i d e a...

He was sure to grab the closest red cup once he got to the table and chugged it down, stopping short as he realized a similarly appearing, socially unsure woman was on the other side, able to see his exploits. He took a small sip before placing the cup back down on the table, instead letting his eyes linger over the food. "Mind if I steal all of it?" He mumbled, meaning to allow what the kids called a joke to bubble forth.
 

CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
Russell Morris

Contrary to most of the gloom and doom outlooks of the introverts of Moss Creek, Russell liked parties.

The smell of barbeque, the bump of music, the hum of friendly chatter… it was nice, to get out of his place, to stretch his legs and leave the white screen of his laptop. Some of the people of this town were almost abnormally peppy… a spare few, a little more strange. Russell thought the place had character, almost too much for such a tiny town. But he liked it. And the opportunity to socialize, to eat some grilled goods, to maybe find a couple of free beers? Hell yeah.

But it was very loud. Russell hadn’t expected it to be so boisterous, booming, bubbling. He shuffled through, muttering ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as he pushed forward, keeping his balance, trying to find a familiar face, surprised how strange it was easy for someone even as large as him to get lost in a crowd. Anybody hello? Jeez. He definitely did not get out enough…

Ah! There. Spotted. Fox! A peculiar fellow who’s company Russell very much enjoyed. The few coffee meeting he’d had with Fox were delightful. The man, though somewhat skittish, had a great charisma about him, and Russell may or may not have jotted down a few funny quotes for later use in his book. He did look a little out of sorts, but… Fox always looked out of sorts. Maybe a little more so?

Nevermind. He’d say hi anyway.

“Foxy!” Russell said with a grin, clapping a gentle but purposeful hand upon the man’s shoulder, smiling down at him. “How are ya? Doing okay? Party crowd too much for you?”



Poppy Haberson

Poppy. Loved. Parties.

They were bright and colorful and enthusiastic. People were playing games, blasting tunes, grilling foods… smells and sounds and pictures blended to form one big clump of happiness. It was a rare time when her normally out of place loud and excitable exterior was totally normal. When nobody minded how many times she said hello or hi or how many people in a night she zipped over too. Cause that was the whole frickin’ point!

Two hot dogs had already been downed and she’d made so much mindless small talk that Poppy couldn’t even remember the first conversational topic brought up. If you laughed loud enough, and said something along the lines of “that’s just how it goes.” everyone seemed to nod along and the social interaction would be deemed a success. Oh, hell yes, were they bringing out fireworks? This place was a big heaping mess and Poppy loved every second of it.

Oh! Puppy. Oh! Simeon. More people maybe more food maybe she would go listen to the singer. Damn, this was fun. Why didn’t they have more block parties? They should have them all the time. How come no one was making s’mores? Poppy wanted s’mores. Uh, where was she? Ah! Poppy clipped her nose on some great giant's elbow (people had no right to be that tall, what the hell) but kept going, because stopping and apologizing and whining would totally cramp her style. Oh, right. Sim.

“Hey!” Poppy said, sliding up beside Simeon and nudging him gently. Giving Navi a little pat, she also grinned up at Zal, offering the girl a big grin and a wave. “What’s shakin’ over here? Hey, have you seen anyone making s’mores yet? Oh, when you think they’re bringin’ out the fireworks? I like how the smell of burgers and hot dogs is just.. perpetual. Nonstop. Ahhhhh. That's the stuff.” Poppy’s eyes sparkled excitedly.
 

Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
As Simeon waited patiently for a hotdog for Navi, his eyes traveled to find that once again, the great white beast had wandered from his side, as far as her leash would allow. This time, however, he did not call her back as a smile fixed to his lips at the sight of the young man crouched beside his best girl. Fox was… an enigma, to be sure. When Simeon had answered the ad in the paper for a roommate, he hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect, but what he got wasn’t even on the list. But over the first few weeks of living with the eccentric man, he’d grown to find the quirks and odd quips somewhat endearing, and ultimately, and more importantly, Navi had taken to him like a fish to water. And he didn’t mind sharing the pup’s affection, if it meant that Fox didn’t feel like such a fish out of water.

Navi, however, wasn’t just a magnet for his less than social roommate, and as the small crowd formed around her, a brow rose. Navi seemed at ease, but he’d seen that change swiftly enough, so stepping closer, he smiled faintly to the vaguely familiar face, giving the woman a polite nod, “Hey… Zal, right?” They’d met briefly - but Simeon had always been good with names, and in a small town, that was ultimately a benefit… since everyone seemed to know who he was, regardless.

Navi twitched her ears up at Simeon’s voice, and he chuckled as he scratched the shepherd on the back, “The attention hog here is Navi. Only mutt I know that’ll take a pat on the head over--”

Another face appeared in the crowd and the bubbly voice interrupted, bring a small smile to Simeon’s lips as he shook his head. For a small woman, Poppy was larger than life… and she had a way of brightening a space, with her effervescent personality. At her nudge, Simeon chuckled lightly, “Hey, Poppy. No sign of s’mores fixings, but I’m guessing the fireworks’ll be pretty soon?”
 
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KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Fox Quincy



Familiar voice. Deep, but not predatorial. His head peeked up from behind the crowd. Fingers curled into fists, clearing safety upon his scalp. People blurred. Significance of their memories, their thoughts, diminished. One voice. One focus. One singular pin point in a sea of meaningless nonsense and muddy perception. Fox did not worry for the aroma of meat cascading around him. He did not focus on the scrambling steps. The laughter. Shrill, false laughter. The worst. It hurt the lungs. It hurt the chest. It hurt what Fox assumed could be the equivalent of a human soul. But the sight of the familiar man. Friend? Friend? Fox did not know what the man thought of him. A dullard, perhaps. A heavy skull. Talks bizarre. Facts. Facts. Genuine.

A sudden clamp to his back. Fox's posture straightened immediately. Color threatened to flood his cheeks, but he was able to easily identify it as a healthy and welcomed bodily reaction. Nickname. Rolled off his tongue like pollen from a flower. Easy. Smooth. Relaxed. Natural. "Rus." Fox commented, hoping to mirror the man's figure of speech. Despite being much smaller, Fox felt no fear. Good man. Could easily serve as protection. Social, too. Lilo would approve. Therefore, Fox approved. He tried to smile. It hurt. His teeth didn't like to be exposed to the open air. How could his teeth feel emotion? No. No. They could not like. They could not naturally hold themselves to the environmental pressures for long. Perfection.

"No equilibrium. Too much mass. Too many people. Hard to consume the proper necessities of oxygen. As many say "long story...shortened", home contained too much space. No. Space is impossible. Too much oxygen. Not enough heavier particles. How...commonly expressed. Lonely. Now I am overwhelmed." Apology flooded his eyes, knowing well that the man would most not likely be bothered. Fox spoke weird. Well, Russell spoke weird in reference point to Fox. Weird. Casual. Yet, somehow endearing and heavily normalized. "Do not feel the need to handle my own mass-ive presence." His smile slithered along smoother. That was what the young people called a pun, he believed. He did not fully understand the use, but it made his smile hurt less. That was a mass-ive enjoyment. "I may return home. Please do not let me interrupt."
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Anton Halverson | Interactions: Sage Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Bench


This was likely the one and only moment in which Anton was grateful for the noise. Because of it, Sage wouldn't hear the sigh of relief that escaped him as she accepted the handshake. Okay, he was off to a fairly good start. There was something. It didn't comfort him much, but he wasn't an ungrateful guy--he'd take whatever Life was gracious enough to grant him. At her agreement to sit, he nodded and followed her warily, dodging bodies to the best of his ability while keeping an eye on her. It... might've been a bit unfair to be fretful about a stranger just because of their leg brace, but he didn't realize that. There was too much going on.

He sat next to her. As far away on the opposite side as possible. Again, not intentional, just a force of habit with new people. He had his fill of being uncomfortably close to other bodies for the night. "Sage..." he muttered, brow flattening with thought. He tried to pull a friendly smile, but it felt strained against his Resting Fuck Off Face. "How much wisdom do you hold up to that name? Ghandi level shit or...?"

"Don't worry about the leg..."

His gaze followed the scar, his chest jumping ever so slightly. Jesus Christ... what sort of freak accident created that?

"I'm part cyborg, is all. No big deal."

"No big deal?" he echoed in disbelief, forcing his eyes to focus on hers. The epitome of seriousness radiated from him. "I don't know about you, Sage, but giving you cyborg modifications with faulty results like cold sensitivity sounds like a damn serious offense. I'd ask for my money back, if I were you."

Then a clipped pause.

"Err... entirely meant that as a joke," he added, a bit rushed. "Not too obvious cuz of this," he waved lazily at his stoic visage, "But... yeah."
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Shilia Halverson | Interactions: Ami KatSea KatSea | Location: Block Party, Snacks Table


Dear oh dear... There were far more options than Shilia anticipated. Crackers and salami with cheese? A finger sandwich? Wait, was that tuna? She wasn't terribly fond of that peculiar fish. Maybe a few grapes and creme puffs would suffice, but... the puffs were more chilled than she liked. The lam post overhead, one of many manning either sides of the street, reflected strikingly against a spot of frost on the treats.

"My mind is honestly my own enemy..." she muttered under her breath, fingers retracting into a softly curled fist. That same fist came to rest over her lips, taking up a pose of deep thought. Goodness. If she could just make up her mind, then she'd feel less like an outlier among the crowd. Everyone else had their tiny trays of food or cup sloshing with lemonade, why couldn't she as well? Because she was internally fretful. Way too fretful. Too frequently. Indecisive. At this rate, she'd never blend in and bond with someone--

"Mind if I steal all of it?"

Shilia didn't visibly flinch but her insides, for the briefest moment, coated itself in ice and oxygen caught in her lungs. However, as she followed that disembodied voice and matched it with a face, the fear melted away. A smile, though small and a tad cautious, graced her features. "Well... considering that I didn't pay for any of this, I could say that I don't." She sighed, fine nails drumming her chin softly. "But, then again, I'm uncertain if I should allow such a thing in good conscience... Your question has chucked me into quite the conundrum." An awkward trail off, the realization that she didn't know his name striking her. "Shilia... Do you have a name, thieving quagmire?"
 

CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
Russell Morris


Russell's brow furrowed as he watched Fox try to process the situation. He did grin and chuckle at the man’s pun, but couldn’t help feeling that nervousness that radiated from the smaller man. He certainly looked overwhelmed by the crowd, and Russell could understand that. There was indeed a point in his life where he didn’t enjoy the suffocating environment of a party, but he didn’t want Fox to skitter home with his tail between his legs quite yet.

“Hey, hold on now.” Russell said gently, allowing his hand to snake around Fox’s shoulders. His hold was in no way threatening, and could easily be slipped out of, but was hopefully welcoming and friendly. “Don’t run off so quick, huh? The party just started. I for one enjoy your company, my man.” Russell gently guided Fox forward, away from the thick of the crowd and in search of something that would certainly loosen up his nerves; a cold one.

“Parties are always intimidating in the beginning. Seriously. What you need, dear Foxy, is an ice cold beer. Ah!” Russell let go of Fox as soon as he spotted a cooler, pulling out two beers and grabbing a bottle opener from a nearby table, uncapping the both of them and handing one to Fox. “Hey, worse comes to worse, I’ll walk ya home, alright? First we toast to a good evening, though. Cheers.” Russell tapped his bottle to Fox’s and took a swig.
 
Last edited:

Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.

Emerging onto the party scene again, Nora felt slightly renewed by the coffee, but not enough that the societal mob seemed any less intimidating and draining. She almost regretting leaving Jofie's couch... But she'd meant what she said. Awkward was awkward, and however refreshing the man's utter lack of social etiquette was, she could also tell he wasn't the sort to suffer company long. Idly, she wondered if she could maneuver back through the crowd and to her apartment without being spotted by any of the Stepford clones.

Crossing the yard, she ducked back into the throng, regretting it almost immediately. The noise level and the cloying combination of sweat, perfume and grilled meat was enough to twist her stomach into a knot. She missed the heady aroma of coffee, already...

Weaving through the crowd, she was roughly halfway across the field of people when she noticed the platinum bob winding in her direction again... Barbie had shaken Ken. Damn.

Twisting, she spotted two figured mulling by the food table, tall and taller, man-hugging over a few brewksies. Swearing softly, she made a break for the men and stepping closer than a stranger ought to, she turned her back to the crowd, "I will pay both of you ten dollars to pretend like you know me and we're having the best damned conversation you've had, all night. Five bucks just to let me duck under the table before anyone sees me..."



It would've been nice if taking weight off her leg actually provided a sense of relief like she'd hoped. Instead, unfortunately, the lingering ache resonated, as pins and screws drove into nerves, a forceful reminder of tje singular worst moment of her life.

"Oh, gosh!" Laughing softly, Sage shook her head, "Definitely not Ghandi material. I squashed at least three spiders today, fully intentional, and totally swore at an elderly woman on her moped. Granted, she tried to run me down when I was crossing the street, but you better believe I gave a piece of my mind to her NRA bumper sticker."

Sitting back, she offered the warmth of a smile, "It's Elisage, some weird combination of my grandparents. But Sage is easier to pronounce and I have better luck with those personalized keychains and mugs."

Straightening the brace, she looked up again at his words and another laugh escaped, "Dang... You know what? That's a pretty good point. Guess that's what I get for going to one of those cheap back alley joints for my cyborg parts. Them's the breaks, though." Sitting back, she grimaced at the buzzing sound that issued from her pocket, and fishing out her phone, she swiftly swiped the decline button beneath the words 'Mom Cell'.

"So you uh... You're not big on parties, are ya?"