G
Gulliver
Guest
Original poster
Hello all, this is where I will request RPs! I'll set it up, and at the moment, it's open :)
What to Expect
- At least two, decent-sized paragraphs, as a minimum.
- Sufficient capitalization and punctuation.
- Deep, somewhat complex characters.
- If the game is good, I'll reply at least once a day, unless otherwise stated.
- If I'm having a hard time with our story, I'll do my best to let you know :(
- I'm going to need you to participate in some of the plot-making. If it's a theme I'm super familiar with, I can take the lead, but I like it best when it's a two person effort.
What I Expect
- At least one, decent sized, informative paragraph. I can work with quality over quantity.
- Developed characters. No Mary/Gary-Sues.
- Sufficient capitalization and punctuation.
- Communication. If there's something you need to say to me, please say it. If there's something you don't like, tell me, ok? I try my best to not be totally offended.
Romantic Pairings
Bold titles are ones that I would like to do
-Explorer x Subject
-POW x interrogator
-Psychiatrist x Schizophrenic
-Ancient Warrior x Prize
-Aztec god x Sacrifice
Plots
-There have been reports of the beginning of a new cult, and the signature seems to be cannibalism. Foka will either lead this, or be the second in command.
-It's been over 150 years since the sun went out, and survival is the new hot topic. Look up "Post Lucem".
-You've always scoffed at the urban legend, the spooky tales of the Slenderman. But now, you're not so sure.
-That old farmhouse has been there since before anyone can remember, but no ones ever moved in. Perhaps it's haunted? It might be time to check it out.
Looking For
- Horror
- Scifi
- Original Fantasy
Pre-Made Characters
- Foka
Check the next post for more...
- Sufficient capitalization and punctuation.
- Deep, somewhat complex characters.
- If the game is good, I'll reply at least once a day, unless otherwise stated.
- If I'm having a hard time with our story, I'll do my best to let you know :(
- I'm going to need you to participate in some of the plot-making. If it's a theme I'm super familiar with, I can take the lead, but I like it best when it's a two person effort.
- Developed characters. No Mary/Gary-Sues.
- Sufficient capitalization and punctuation.
- Communication. If there's something you need to say to me, please say it. If there's something you don't like, tell me, ok? I try my best to not be totally offended.
-POW x interrogator
-Psychiatrist x Schizophrenic
-Ancient Warrior x Prize
-Aztec god x Sacrifice
Plots
-There have been reports of the beginning of a new cult, and the signature seems to be cannibalism. Foka will either lead this, or be the second in command.
-It's been over 150 years since the sun went out, and survival is the new hot topic. Look up "Post Lucem".
-You've always scoffed at the urban legend, the spooky tales of the Slenderman. But now, you're not so sure.
-That old farmhouse has been there since before anyone can remember, but no ones ever moved in. Perhaps it's haunted? It might be time to check it out.
Looking For
- Horror
- Scifi
- Original Fantasy
Pre-Made Characters
- Foka
Cannibalistic Restaurant Owner
- SethAnd this is how it feels when I
ignore the words you spoke to me
And this is where I lose myself
when I keep running away from you
And this is who I am when,
when I don't know myself anymore
And this is what I choose when
it's all left up to me
Polished and maintained fingertips felt over the denim, a dainty index finger slipped into his pocket. He felt her, she felt him. His pulse raced as he looked into those black eyes, her parted, red lips. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Demon possessed. She had gone too far, she had fucked too much. What she had welcomed was unforgivable.
A large, rough and calloused hand gripped the pipe even tighter, the blood pressed away from his white knuckles. Ba-bump, ba-bump. Demon possessed. He had come to free them, to let them go, his fellow country-women. They were here against their will, they were bought and sold. He had intended to find whores, to liberate them. But this, this was unacceptable.
Give in, Father Russia. The words fell off her lips like a sickly, black smoke. She sounded like the devil. She moved like the succubus, a hand slipped into his other pocket, her chin pressed against his thigh. Ba-bump ba-bump. Demon possessed. Release her. The already bloodied pipe was raised, both of his hands wrapped tightly around the base, his eyes wide. Give in, Father Russia.
And this is how it looks when I
am standing on the edge
And this is how I break apart
when I finally hit the ground
And this is how it hurts when I
pretend I don't feel any pain
And this is how I disappear
when I throw myself away...
Smoke stained lips parted in a growl, an enraged scream rising from his chest as the warm, wet metal came down. Ba-bump-ba-bump. Her black eyes remained unchanging, right until they were released from their sockets. Crack! Blood sprayed, ruined the denim she had been slinking past. The succubus didn't die. The metal was raised again. Crack! More blood spurted from a broken skull, clear cerebral fluid running between where her eyes had been lodged. One black, oily orb ruptured. Crack! Father Russia continued, vision clouded by the red. He screamed, the sound coming from his very soul. Rage. Unholy rage. The whores hands slipped from his pockets, her mangled head hitting the gore-covered blankets and pillows that had served as a bed for her. Crack! Father Russia hit her again, breaking her spine, her ribs, the wet metal of his weapon tearing open her bare skin. Give in, Father Russia.
He froze. Give in... The sound of the pipe hitting the floor was muffled by the soaking blankets. His knees buckled, a hand-made quilt caught under him. Squelch. Those calloused hands reached into her, the whore, the slut who had touched him. He pulled. Red, blood-soaked flesh squeezed between his fingers as he ripped the meat free. Meat. Salty tears rolled down his cheeks as metal-studded lips parted to receive a piece of her. Father Russia tasted her then, tasted the copper flavor of her blood. Stringy meat slipped between his teeth as he chewed. He saw a blue eye among the red, and he reached for it. For a moment, he looked into her eye, noticing how the color was the same as his own. Cold, icy, an unfeeling shade of blue. The cords of muscle connecting the eye to the head snapped, and that too was consumed. It popped in his mouth much like how caviar would.
Angeline turned the corner, her heart racing. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. "Foka? Foka, what's wrong? I thought I heard you-" she froze. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the carnage. A mangled, naked body. A bloodied, metal pipe from somewhere in the wall. Father Russia kneeling in the middle of it all. She had known what he was capable of - what he had been capable of before she loved him. "My god, Foka!"
He stopped, corded veins and muscle handing from his pierced lips as he turned to look at the woman he loved. She was received by oily black eyes. Ba-bump... Ba-bump... Give in, Father Russia.
ignore the words you spoke to me
And this is where I lose myself
when I keep running away from you
And this is who I am when,
when I don't know myself anymore
And this is what I choose when
it's all left up to me
Polished and maintained fingertips felt over the denim, a dainty index finger slipped into his pocket. He felt her, she felt him. His pulse raced as he looked into those black eyes, her parted, red lips. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Demon possessed. She had gone too far, she had fucked too much. What she had welcomed was unforgivable.
A large, rough and calloused hand gripped the pipe even tighter, the blood pressed away from his white knuckles. Ba-bump, ba-bump. Demon possessed. He had come to free them, to let them go, his fellow country-women. They were here against their will, they were bought and sold. He had intended to find whores, to liberate them. But this, this was unacceptable.
Give in, Father Russia. The words fell off her lips like a sickly, black smoke. She sounded like the devil. She moved like the succubus, a hand slipped into his other pocket, her chin pressed against his thigh. Ba-bump ba-bump. Demon possessed. Release her. The already bloodied pipe was raised, both of his hands wrapped tightly around the base, his eyes wide. Give in, Father Russia.
And this is how it looks when I
am standing on the edge
And this is how I break apart
when I finally hit the ground
And this is how it hurts when I
pretend I don't feel any pain
And this is how I disappear
when I throw myself away...
Smoke stained lips parted in a growl, an enraged scream rising from his chest as the warm, wet metal came down. Ba-bump-ba-bump. Her black eyes remained unchanging, right until they were released from their sockets. Crack! Blood sprayed, ruined the denim she had been slinking past. The succubus didn't die. The metal was raised again. Crack! More blood spurted from a broken skull, clear cerebral fluid running between where her eyes had been lodged. One black, oily orb ruptured. Crack! Father Russia continued, vision clouded by the red. He screamed, the sound coming from his very soul. Rage. Unholy rage. The whores hands slipped from his pockets, her mangled head hitting the gore-covered blankets and pillows that had served as a bed for her. Crack! Father Russia hit her again, breaking her spine, her ribs, the wet metal of his weapon tearing open her bare skin. Give in, Father Russia.
He froze. Give in... The sound of the pipe hitting the floor was muffled by the soaking blankets. His knees buckled, a hand-made quilt caught under him. Squelch. Those calloused hands reached into her, the whore, the slut who had touched him. He pulled. Red, blood-soaked flesh squeezed between his fingers as he ripped the meat free. Meat. Salty tears rolled down his cheeks as metal-studded lips parted to receive a piece of her. Father Russia tasted her then, tasted the copper flavor of her blood. Stringy meat slipped between his teeth as he chewed. He saw a blue eye among the red, and he reached for it. For a moment, he looked into her eye, noticing how the color was the same as his own. Cold, icy, an unfeeling shade of blue. The cords of muscle connecting the eye to the head snapped, and that too was consumed. It popped in his mouth much like how caviar would.
Angeline turned the corner, her heart racing. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. "Foka? Foka, what's wrong? I thought I heard you-" she froze. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the carnage. A mangled, naked body. A bloodied, metal pipe from somewhere in the wall. Father Russia kneeling in the middle of it all. She had known what he was capable of - what he had been capable of before she loved him. "My god, Foka!"
He stopped, corded veins and muscle handing from his pierced lips as he turned to look at the woman he loved. She was received by oily black eyes. Ba-bump... Ba-bump... Give in, Father Russia.
Haptephobic Elf
- EveHe had stood in front of her. He had taken the brute force of the scatter shells. A thick, copper-tasting spray of blood erupted from his torso. The smell of body fluids, of ruined flesh and cracked bone came from him. There was the glow of the rings on his fingers, elvish script around each and every one of them, all ten. The glow was snuffed out. There was no soul left to dwell on. Their escape had been thwarted, violently, and there was no mistaking the end.
A thin, malnourished, elvish body hit the concrete ground with a wet thud! There was no more life in his eyes. Thick, putrid red blood pooled around his body, around her boots. The shooting had stopped with the call of "cease fire!", and Annabelle looked down at the body by her feet. Her lover. Her fingers trembled, but there were no tears, not yet. The marionettes she had been charged with hit the ground and scattered. They didn't break, the wood didn't splinter. The strings were tangled, and the yarn hair on each of them soaked up their makers blood like a sponge. But they did not break, even when their master did.
A choked sob came from Anna's throat as she fell to her knees, taking him by the sides of his head, pulling him onto her lap. Silver hair was dyed a deep shade of red, red that smeared across her hands as she held him. "No, no!" She cried, the tears finally breaking past their barrier. "No! Seth! You said you wouldn't leave! You promised you wouldn't leave me!" Her cheeks were streaked with her salty tears as she looked down into his lifeless, green eyes. The light was already gone. There were several holes in his chest. The scars along his hips would never bother him again, he would never have to think of touching another person ever again. The magical marks imprinted into his flesh would never amount to anything.
His right arm fell from him. Limp, lifeless, his fingers curled from the onset of death, the cooling of his fragile body. The painted on eyes of a marionette mother watched as her son was held by the one who loved him, who had showed him the touch of kindness. It had been so long.
"You monsters!" Annabelle screamed, rocking the mangled body of her loved one. He had been the last. "You bastards! You've killed him! I swear by Gods name, me and all my bretherin in the soggy pits of Hell, You'll never live another day!" She was a force to be reckoned with, the visage of hellfire in her eyes.
The police who had done their jobs, some raised their weapons once again, others felt that they knew better, and instead backed down. She was grieving, sobbing over the body in her arms. Someone stepped forward, a pair of cuffs in their hands.
"Seth, the bastard child of Fenovah. For your crimes against the underground people, against your family, the counsel rules that you are to live eternity with what you have done. Your life is no longer your own. You will never again deserve the acceptance of a community. You are bound to the souls of those you have killed."
Ba-bump. It was sudden, quick, a miracle that no one noticed. Ba-bump. Fingers uncurled. A heartbeat.
A thin, malnourished, elvish body hit the concrete ground with a wet thud! There was no more life in his eyes. Thick, putrid red blood pooled around his body, around her boots. The shooting had stopped with the call of "cease fire!", and Annabelle looked down at the body by her feet. Her lover. Her fingers trembled, but there were no tears, not yet. The marionettes she had been charged with hit the ground and scattered. They didn't break, the wood didn't splinter. The strings were tangled, and the yarn hair on each of them soaked up their makers blood like a sponge. But they did not break, even when their master did.
A choked sob came from Anna's throat as she fell to her knees, taking him by the sides of his head, pulling him onto her lap. Silver hair was dyed a deep shade of red, red that smeared across her hands as she held him. "No, no!" She cried, the tears finally breaking past their barrier. "No! Seth! You said you wouldn't leave! You promised you wouldn't leave me!" Her cheeks were streaked with her salty tears as she looked down into his lifeless, green eyes. The light was already gone. There were several holes in his chest. The scars along his hips would never bother him again, he would never have to think of touching another person ever again. The magical marks imprinted into his flesh would never amount to anything.
His right arm fell from him. Limp, lifeless, his fingers curled from the onset of death, the cooling of his fragile body. The painted on eyes of a marionette mother watched as her son was held by the one who loved him, who had showed him the touch of kindness. It had been so long.
"You monsters!" Annabelle screamed, rocking the mangled body of her loved one. He had been the last. "You bastards! You've killed him! I swear by Gods name, me and all my bretherin in the soggy pits of Hell, You'll never live another day!" She was a force to be reckoned with, the visage of hellfire in her eyes.
The police who had done their jobs, some raised their weapons once again, others felt that they knew better, and instead backed down. She was grieving, sobbing over the body in her arms. Someone stepped forward, a pair of cuffs in their hands.
"Seth, the bastard child of Fenovah. For your crimes against the underground people, against your family, the counsel rules that you are to live eternity with what you have done. Your life is no longer your own. You will never again deserve the acceptance of a community. You are bound to the souls of those you have killed."
Ba-bump. It was sudden, quick, a miracle that no one noticed. Ba-bump. Fingers uncurled. A heartbeat.
The Fawn
- AtlasThe Supercomputer
- RigolettoThe god
I retain the right to decline any RP offer. Dudes.
Check the next post for more...
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