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LXXVI

lord of ruin
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#1
spineless smaller.png
 
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LXXVI

lord of ruin
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#2

lucian sumner

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”

Lucian stepped out of his carriage and immediately wrinkled his nose. He found himself wondering, exactly, how he’d been reduced to a state such as this.

The day had started innocuously enough. He’d risen a little before dawn to attend to household affairs. He had double checked the weekly ledgers against the steward’s calculations and found it short by three copper bits. After an extensive conversation about the dangers of carelessness and rounding up, Lucian had gone to wake his Lady Nerys. Doing so had always been an endeavour. She tended to err on the side of wrathful when waking up, and would sleep until noon if left to her own devices.

It always battered at his inner defences whenever she scowled sleepily at him, but in this he’d managed to remain firm. He couldn’t have others accusing his lady of laziness, after all, and she had magic lessons after breakfast. He knew how sorely she needed to attend those, though he’d rather cut out his own tongue than tell her so.

At breakfast, when he’d told her gently that he would not be sitting in on her lessons, she’d blinked at him and, for a moment, looked almost affronted.

“Where are you going?” She’d asked sullenly. To his ears, it had sounded like, What could possibly be more important to you than me? He’d hid a smile.

“Simple errands, my lady,” he’d replied. “It is tedious business. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

She had seemed unconvinced, but returned to her breakfast without further protest. Lucian had watched her; sitting beneath a stream of the pale, morning light, she looked happy. Innocent. Unburdened by the knowledge that, only two night ago, Lucian had executed four lower servants for conspiring to enter her rooms in the night and murder her in her sleep.

Lucian planned to keep it that way.

His ‘simple errand’ had brought him to Gatehouse prison, home to derelicts and reprobates from all walks of life. Except for, perhaps, the higher walks, but that was only to be expected.

His lady had once told him, with the air of someone trying and failing to sound worldly and wise, ‘One man’s rubbish may be another man’s treasure.’ At the time, he had simply quirked a brow and told her that if she had time to parrot such trite nonsense, then perhaps she could instead find treasure in attending her etiquette lessons.

Now, he wondered if there wasn’t at least some merit in that pedestrian aphorism. Every man and woman who served the Eckharts had been personally vetted by Lucian himself. He’d always made his choices among those who had good pedigrees, were relatively well educated, and preferably had a history of having served successfully in other households.

Lucian thought of the four servants he had executed; in his mind he turned them over and over in his hands, examining them from every angle. Even now, he maintained his initial assessments of them—hard-working, dedicated, and not unintelligent. Loyal hadn’t been on their list of virtues, but there was a reason why servants of the Eckhart household were paid more than everyone else. Loyalty could be bought.

Unfortunately, so could disloyalty. And everyone had a price.

It was time to attempt a different tack.

After another moment of deliberation, Lucian stepped into the prison. Immediately, the fetid stink of human waste intensified. Lucian wondered if this was due to the prison staff being unequipped to handle the overflowing population, or if it was simply part of the punishment.

Lucian flicked his gaze to the nearest guard. In a bored, lofty manner, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a writ, bearing the Eckhart family crest. “I believe you’re expecting me,” he said, with an arched brow.

The seal alone would have guaranteed him entry, but his reputation ensured that no one would ask inane questions.

In short order, he was brought to a more secluded corridor, lined by cells on either side. Save for a pair of guards that stood by the doors at each end of the walkway, Lucian was quite alone.

Lucian began to walk, stepping slowly and deliberately down the corridor. His eyes swept over each cell, examining the prisoner inside; within seconds he picked them apart and cast them aside, finding them wanting. Lucian wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but had some vague hope that he’d know it when he saw it. Even with his lady’s little piece of wisdom in mind, he expected very little from this endeavour. In fact, the further he went, the more he was sure he wasting his time. What could he expect to find in such a filthy, wretched place?

Still, Lucian never did things by half. It simply wasn’t in his nature. But as he walked, his mind began to skim. The prison’s bleak surroundings began to blur together in a haze of dank, stale water, and crumbling stone and watery, grey light and gold—

Lucian stopped.

Slowly, he turned on his heel and took one step back, peering into the cell that was second to last from the door that awaited the executioner’s axe.

It defied all reason. Lucian could barely even recognize that beneath all that dirt and grime was a human being. But something niggled at his mind and, despite all his attempts, refused to be put to rest.

Lucian stepped closer, just beyond arms length of the bars, and cocked his head. There had been that flash of gold that caught in the light, so out of place that—

Something clicked in his mind. Lucian narrowed his eyes.

Ah. Lady Vevina’s personal guard.

Well, formerly. Lucian assumed he’d been dismissed from his duties when he’d brutally murdered his own mistress.

Lucian felt a curl of disgust at the thought, musing with lazy irony that some people had no pride in their work. If Lucian remembered correctly, this creature had served his lady since he’d been a boy. And then, a decade later, he’d murdered her—in cold blood and seemingly without any provocation.

Somewhere in his mind, he heard a ticking, soft and incessant.

Lucian examined the facts. When she was alive, Lady Vevina had been a true magical prodigy—when she was fifteen, she had been a match for many at least three times her age. It was a pity that she had belonged to a lesser noble family who had little social influence. However, society had whispered, when they spoke of her burgeoning power.

However.

The Beringers didn’t run in much of the same social circles as the Eckharts did, but Lucian had recalled meeting Lady Vevina, once. More to the point, he remembered meeting her guard.

It had been at the Winter Ball, hosted by Lord and Lady Fairfax. His Lady Nerys had wanted to be introduced to Lady Vevina and so Lucian had dutifully excused himself under the pretence of forging ahead to make introductions. In actuality, he had left to patrol the perimeter, ensuring there were no threats lurking around the alcove in which Lady Vevina was ensconced.

Lucian could move like a shadow, when he wanted to. He could make himself inconspicuous as easily as he could turn himself into a commanding presence.

As Lucian had been about to slip out of the shadows, satisfied that there were no would-be assassins, someone had stepped cleanly into his path, stopping him.

It had been him. That man—who was scarcely more than a boy, really—with the gold eyes that flashed in the light.

Lucian had allowed himself only two seconds to be impressed, before he’d said, coldly, “Excuse me.”

Their gazes had locked and held. The fierce protectiveness in his eyes had been searing, had been a mirror to what Lucian himself felt, but hid better. He must have been watching very carefully to have seen me, Lucian had thought.

Lucian’s mind had made its calculations and assessed. A kindred spirit, he’d decided. Such loyalty was hard to come by, these days.

That had been his assessment of Lady Vevina’s guard.

Lucian so hated to be wrong. It scarcely ever happened. And when it did, he had to at least know why.

He found himself wondering, inexplicably, if he remembered meeting Lucian.

Before he could reconsider, he found the words slipping out of his mouth, “This one.”

The guards balked, and went pale. One of them had what might have been a fading black eye. “Sir,” they stammered. “Perhaps that is unwise—“

Lucian turned his head. “This one,” he said again, his voice like velvet over steel. “I want him in one of the interrogation rooms. Now.” He paused, let menace suffuse the silence that lingered like a noxious cloud. “I won’t tell you again.”

When he flicked his gaze back to the holding cell, blue met gold.

The prisoner was staring back.

-

Lucian lingered outside the interrogation room. Gatehouse prison kept poor records, but it did at least keep records. Lucian scanned through them again, in the interest of being thorough, and for the purpose of keeping the prisoner waiting.

They didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. In fact, they told him a great deal less. A theory, wrapped in a suspicion, stirred at the back of his mind.

When Lucian finally let himself into the room, after looking askance at the guards stationed at the door, he found the prisoner sitting in a chair that had been bolted to the ground. His feet were chained, and his hands were manacled through an iron loop in the table.

He wasn’t doing much of anything, but still Lucian thought, Belligerent thing.

Stepping languidly with an air of unconcern, Lucian paced the room, not looking at the prisoner. He wondered which tack he should take. It was hard to go wrong with diplomacy. It was the logical choice. However…

However.

“I had the pleasure of making Lady Vevina’s acquaintance, once,” Lucian said idly, with an air of one discussing the weather.

“She was beautiful, and graceful, and truly humble despite her magical proficiency.” Lucian gave a regretful, heartfelt sigh and pressed a hand against his chest. “It is such a pity that she was so brutally slaughtered.”

Lucian finished his circuit around the room and stopped in front of the prisoner. “Why did you do it?”
 
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LXXVI

lord of ruin
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#3

elliot fletcher.

I SHUT MY EYES AND ALL THE WORLD DROPS DEAD / I THINK I MADE YOU UP INSIDE MY HEAD


Elliot was six when he began to entertain the notion of having an imaginary friend.

The process of growing up felt slow and tedious. The discomfiting feeling of being too small for the world he was born in never seemed to abate. Tables and bookshelves were always too high up, and he always had to crane his neck up to look at anything or anyone worth looking at.

Everything felt perpetually out of reach.

His parents did too, but in a different way. At dinner, they sat themselves at the farthest ends of north and south. Elliot was always perched between them, balancing the knife edge tensions on the tips of his fingers like a fulcrum.

He watched his parents with solemn eyes. His father’s smiles were a careful construct, genial and politely interested. His mother’s sharp, precise movements reminded him of the inane puppet show one of the nannies had taken him to last month. When his father mentioned, tone offhand, an upcoming business trip that would take him away for a month, her knife scraped over her plate with a screech. His father politely ignored it.

He watched and wondered why no one ever said what they meant, or meant what they said. The world became shaded in, gained facets. Now he had to learn to navigate the nebulous realm of complex adult emotions. White lies with shrivelled, blackened edges.

-​

His parents were worried about him, he knew. They worried about his quietness, his reserved manner around others his age. They thought he was shy.

He wasn’t.

The idea of other children his age was quite novel, right up until he'd been introduced to one. He’d hoped to be able to quickly wash his hands of the entire concept, but his parents had insisted he spend time with his cousin, who toddled around on clumsy feet and pressed sticky fingers into all his books.

He ignored her as best he could, retreating into a corner and eyeing his cousin balefully over the top of a book.

His cousin grew as rapidly bored of Elliot as he did of her, which suited him fine. He was left blessed alone, and wasn’t disturbed for a long time, until he heard her start chattering again.

Elliot looked up. His cousin poured tea, presumably, and offered it to the blank space next to her, still nattering away. Elliot furrowed his brow, and tried to understand before he asked, “What are you doing?”

She gave him a pitying look. “Having a tea party.”

“With who?” He asked, baffled. “Who are you talking to?”

“Charlotte,” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m playing with her, since you won’t play with me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “There’s no one there,” he said flatly.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. She’s my imaginary friend. She only likes to talk to me.

Elliot went quiet, and considered.

-​

That night, Elliot wondered if there was something to the idea of an imaginary friend. The possible benefit of having one, he thought, was that if it came from his own mind, then at least he wouldn’t have to worry about it badgering him with stupid questions or messing up the careful order of his books.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He sketched out the shape of a boy, a little older than him. He named him Adam. He decided, randomly, that his father owned a ranch in Piney Woods. Adam was the middle child of three, was missing one of his front teeth and had knees that were perpetually scraped and dirty.

Adam lasted half a day before Elliot dismissed him. They’d had nothing in common, and the lisp resulting from his missing tooth had driven Elliot to distraction.

After Adam was Cassandra. A woman, and a pirate queen. She had dusky skin, and bright bits of gold embedded in her nose and under her lip. She had kohl rimmed eyes and laughed a lot, and spent most of her time teasing him and reading over his shoulder when he was supposed to be studying.

The attempt was better, this time around, but there were quiet moments when she sat by the window, staring down at the long driveway in the morning when his father left to work. The sad, solemn look lurking in her eyes reminded him of his mother.

In the end, he let her go too, and pulled the silence around him like a shroud.

-​

One day, when he was studying, something slammed into his window.

He looked up just in time to see a small, feathery shape roll off the ledge and into the gardens.

Elliot went to investigate. It took an hour of digging through the shrubs on his hands and knees before he found it, small, bright and still.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the bright red colouring was its feathers, or if it was blood. But then he saw the wetness trickling from its beak, and its eyes, and from where its body had ruptured from the impact against the window.

The pink of its entrails were unspooling from its body cavity, and its head was twisted around at an unnatural angle—but Elliot still thought it was rather pretty. Its feathers were fine things, with the careful constellation of black dotting its wings, and the stark stripe of red painting its cheeks.

Elliot started to reach out to touch it when a long shadow fell over him.

“What are you doing, Elliot?” His father asked.

Elliot blinked up at his father, before returning his steady gaze back to the bird in front of him. His first encounter with death.

“It’s pretty,” he said simply, and shrugged.

That was apparently all the answer his father needed. He nodded, and helped Elliot bury the bird. He took him inside to wash his hands, and the next day, gave him an encyclopedia about various bird species.

For the first time, his interest quickened in a way he couldn’t explain. He read the book from cover to cover, and discovered that his dead friend had been a Northern Flicker, a member of the woodpecker family.

He learned other things too. That there were birds that ate rotting flesh, that there were smaller birds who hunted larger prey by driving them onto spikes, impaling them. There were even some birds that were blind and hunted by smell.

But somehow his mind always seemed to turn back towards that first bird as inevitably as a compass pointed north. He remembered the shape of it starkly—shattered, feathers mangled, but still fascinating.

He sat in his room, alone and in the dark. He stared at the blank space in the middle of the room, at the way the air seemed to quiver as if begging him to try again.

Creation took longer this time. Whatever lurked beyond the amorphous dark didn’t seem to want to come as easily as Adam and Cassandra had. A shape began to form, and Elliot tamped down on the urge to fill it with details. He thought that had been where he’d failed, before. If he left it open, perhaps something would pour into it like a decanter.

He let his mind drift, and thought of feathers, speckled and red. He thought of the way birds canted their heads, the way their eyes would lock onto something with eerie focus. He thought of blood, thought of death and its sickly sweet smell, fermenting in the blistering high noon heat.

With a complete and utter lack of surprise, Elliot watched as all the shadows in the room were dragged away from their objects, as though their tethers had been cut. They coalesced at the centre of the room, and slowly, something began to burble beneath the velvety dark, gathering shape.

Elliot crawled forward, his knees dragging against the rug. When he was an arm’s length away, he sat on his haunches to watch as the darkness solidified.

It shifted, as though restless. As it moved, Elliot heard a susurrus sound, like feathers and a hundred different voices sighing.

There was a long moment before one of its eyes cracked open a sliver. It had uncanny yellow irises. One eye, and then two. They opened and fluttered, pupils expanding and contracting, before they narrowed their focus on him with eerie intensity.

He gazed steadily back. “Hello. My name is Elliot.”

He waited. When no reply seemed forthcoming, he stood and canted his head. “I made you,” he said seriously. “You’re mine. Meant for me.”

He took two steps back and beckoned. “Come out of the shadows, now. I have something to show you.”
 
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LXXVI

lord of ruin
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#4


ABOUT ME

This section always makes me feel like it's the first damn day of school, and we all have to gather in a circle and tell everyone our names and one cool fact about ourselves, and every god damn person is like 'Hey, I'm Craig and I started my own business and went to the moon,' or 'I'm Debra and I climbed Mount Everest and discovered a cure for male balding' and when your turn comes around, you're literally like, 'uh, hey, i like reading and anime. *finger guns*' Who really gives a shit. Let me just sum up the pertinent bits.

  • I write a metric fuck ton. Well, kind of. I can, unless I feel like you'll run away. (500-1000+)
  • I post really slowly, sometimes. I can take weeks to reply, but feel free to nudge me.
  • I play men and women, but I prefer playing dudes.
  • I double, but not so we can both play women, or be bottoms or what the fuck ever. I double to advance the plot, I play NPC's, I want my own sidekick etc.
  • M/M & F/M. My preference depends on the plot.
  • I love plotting. Sometimes it runs away from me. I like people who will enthusiastically plot with me, and actively contribute to the plot. If I feel like you're not into what we're doing, or if I'm churning out paragraphs of ideas and you send me back like, one sentence, just spit in my face from the get-go and be done with it.
  • If you only play women, I probably already hate you.
  • If you post here or PM me and say something along the lines of 'i like this pairing' and nothing else, I probably already hate you.
  • If you cannot find it within yourself to rub two braincells together to come up with at least the bare bones of some kind of basic idea, do not contact me.
  • I promise, I'm not actually this salty, we just gotta get the ball rolling lmao


PLOTS

So last time I tried to tell people to bring me their ideas, but that didn't work. I was also super vague about what I wanted, listing pairings and a work bank, but hahaha no. So this time around, my plots are already cooked, pre-packaged and ready to go. Just add water.

[accordion=bcenter]{slide=
ANDROID/CREATOR
|center}

So depending on what you're into, this has the potential to be super on the slice of life side, a la Chobits, or it could go quite dark. I don't think much needs to be elaborated on, if we're gonna go with the cute route. We can hash out those details ourselves with no (potentially) nasty surprises.

On the other hand.

The Creator is playing God. Is playing with somebody else's toys. In the future, androids are regularly produced to replace more expensive human labour, to specialize in collecting and analyzing data, etc. But they're all stock machines, and are all built from the same mould. They lack social programming and true sentience.

The Creator works at a software firm that has launched its own android initiative, but he begins to tinker. In the end, he creates the Android because he's lonely. Because he's scratching that greedy, human itch to bring something of himself into the world, leave a mark, a legacy. Maybe it looks like a loved one. A dead wife. A dead husband, a dead child.

Grander plot ideas involve the social implications of creating a sentient machine, Homo Superior, corporations either after The Creator's designs, and the Android itself, either to keep it or destroy it.

Darker themes involve playing god, pseudo-fatherhood, innocence, blind trust, and power imbalances.

{/slide}{slide=
DELINQUENT/TUTOR
|center}

This one's just tooth achingly cute, to be honest. I picture The Delinquent as actually being the son of an oyabun, or some other kind of powerful, organized gang family. He tries to hide this at school though, to varying degrees of success. He's probably looks/acts a lot more scary and intimidating than he really is. He's also total shit at school, because he knows he going to inherit a gang someday, so why the fuck study, it's not like he's going to have any kind of post-secondary education.

So he saves some scrawny kid one day. From bullies or whatnot, we can decide the details on that. And the kid, if he's kind of outgoing and charismatic, takes a shining to him and attaches themself like a limpet, or if they're kind of more quiet and socially awkward, take it upon themself to chide him about his grades and insist that they'll pay him back by raising his position from dead last in exam scores to somewhere in the top ten.

At first, Delinquent doesn't wanna, because what the fuck. But then he sticks around because, well, this kid's kind of cute, so whatever. Eventually, he probably spends most of that tutoring hour alternatively trying (and failing) to do math and staring at the Tutor.

Later on, he'll probably realize that he doesn't want to be a god damn gokudo. Also, the Tutor probably gets involved in gang shit, either by rival gangs or by his own family's gang to try and stamp out his weaknesses/distractions etc.

{/slide}{slide=
SPOILS OF WAR
|center}

Also pretty dark, to be honest.

Picture two princes, or a prince and a princess, from two neighbouring kingdoms. When they'd been growing up, their countries had settled into a sort of uneasy truce, after centuries of bad blood. But they'd made peace long enough for there to be quite a few diplomatic visits between the two kingdoms, almost every summer. The kids got to know each other, became best friends, all that cute stuff.

But, predictably, the peace didn't last. As they grew older, the political atmosphere surrounding the two kingdoms became more turbulent. Territory disputes. Embargos. Increased trade tariffs. Then, suspicious deaths.

The two promised that they'd remain friends, no matter what happened, obviously. They swore a pinky promise, after all. When they became the sovereigns of their respective kingdoms, there would always be peace.

This turned out to not to be the case.

Those diplomatic visits ended, but the two still smuggled letters to each other, until one day, one of them just cut all contact. Prince(cess) A thought that perhaps Prince B's father had intercepted their letters, and tried to keep re-initiating contact, but to no avail. Eventually, years passed without them hearing a single word from each other, but Prince(cess) A spent those years believing that they were friends, that one day they'd see each other again.

At this point: either war breaks out, and when they meet on the front lines, Prince(cess) A finds Prince B a completely changed person, darker, bitter, and their enemy.

Or, Prince(cess) A finally receives a letter from Prince B, asking to rendezvous at their secret clearing, and it ends up being a trap lmao.

Eventually: Prince B marches in with his army and razes Prince(cess) A's kingdom to the ground. He reaches the heart of their capital, holds the city within the iron of his fist and squeezes, tighter and tighter until he just--stops.

And he promises that he'll stop. That he'll retreat. That he'll leave what's left of your kingdom alive, if you give him just one thing.

You.

{/slide}{slide=
CAIN AND ABEL
|center}

I'm ready to give this plot a try again, even though it's weird and no one likes it and it keeps breaking my heart because the few who are interested never get it right. Anyway, this is also quite dark? I mean. Pseudo-incest. Perhaps not even pseudo. Just, you know. Straight up. Anyway:

this is the story that never ends, the closed circle, the snake swallowing its own tail. ouroboros. two damned souls are cursed to forever spend eternity dancing the same dance.

cain and abel. kin slayer and saint. you killed him, your bright, beautiful brother. and for it, you became the first son of purgatory, damned and wretched, condemned to forever wander the earth.

you could have lived with it, somehow, if this was the extent of your punishment. it would have been a wretched half life, but you could have. but anyone who says god is merciful is deluded, a liar, or both and you've been consigned to a darker fate.

you didn't kill abel just the once. you've killed him twice. three times. more than that. you've killed him a hundred times over, because when you were cursed with immortality you were also cursed with a brother that reincarnates over and over, only to meet his inevitable end at your hands. always.

you've had time to turn the idea of him over and over in your hands, until he isn't just your brother, but a rough diamond turned gleaming; an ideal you've become obsessed and enamoured with.

until one day, you meet him again, your brother, an old soul in a new body and you're geared up to greet him the only way you know how -- only to find out that he doesn't remember any of his past lives. a blank slate.

{/slide}{slide=
NOBLE/MERCENARY
|center}

FINALLY! Something not fucked up. Anyway, this one's pretty light hearted and humorous. The noble is this kind of ponce, who's either been sent out on a fool's errand, or has to prove something to his family so he sets out to accomplish this task that he's woefully untrained for. Like, slaying a dragon. Or maybe his family is noble, but it's actually kind of destitute, so he gets betrothed to another family that's kind of nouveau riche, in order to save his family from poverty. But before he can, his betrothed, who he's never met, gets fucking kidnapped by some evil guy, so now he has to set off and save her before they recommence with the wedding.

Anyway, he gets to the Evil Lair, and realizes 'holy shit i can't do this' but then realizes that no one ever stipulated that he had to do any of this shit by himself, so he hires a mercenary to help him.

The mercenary wasn't exactly his first choice, but everyone else laughed in his face and refused when he told them their mission and what he was offering them. Only this crazy guy accepted.

Worlds clash. Silk vs straw, all that shit. The Noble thinks the Mercenary is a rough-hewn, uneducated lout and the Mercenary thinks the Noble is a useless ponce. They hate each other, until they don't. Somewhere along the way, they fall in love. Lmao.

{/slide}{slide=
DEMON/SUMMONER
|center}

More cute slice of life bullshit. This one's super simple. This stupid kid, either being hazed or thinking this will help him with his bullies and his awkward social problems, summons a fucking demon using a wikihow article. It wasn't supposed to work, but he fucked things up at exactly the right time, and somehow, something heard him, and something came when he called.

And the Demon thinks that the Human is either criminally stupid, or actually a genius, because he fucks things up in a way that binds the Demon to him, in a way that ensures the Demon can't maim or kill him.

Cue cute/awkward/cutely horrifying scenes where the Demon figures out how televisions work, or kills Human's bullies for him, or leaves him friendly reminders written in blood on the mirror, etc. This is probably the loosest of all my plots, but maybe you can help me out with that.


{/slide}
[/accordion]
 
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Roleplay Invitations
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Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
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Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#5

( vast, empty sea )

A chill search for some bangin' one/one roleplays


What up folks, this disaster of a human being is back at it again. Does she actually want to write and roleplay, or is she just bored and lonely? Your guess is as good as hers. *Finger guns* Ahahaha... In all seriousness, let's give it a shot, someone, anyone. You never know if and when you'll strike gold.

Well, I guess I'll take pity on her, you think, as you peruse my search thread. But, the thought occurs to you, do we got chemistry? Are we compatible? The questions keep you up at night.

Not to worry, I've painstakingly put together a roleplaying Tinder profile for your perusal. Please swipe right.

  • I write anywhere between 500 - 1000+ words. Depends on what's happening, but expect at least 500. And they're not just 500 words of fluff either. It's 500 words of me eye fucking your character, or telegraphing body language hard, etc. Things that you can take in/reply to. Now, I'm not saying I expect this much... But I tend to lose interest if I'm giving you 500+ words of me noticing each and every nuance of what your character is doing, and you giving me 100 word dry ass replies. Take that how you will.
  • I write a lot but I don't write very often, lmao... I'm busy and my ability to write will either love me and make itself comfortable for a few days, or literally just flip me off and then fuck off to parts unknown. At most I post once a week. I don't mind nudges or check-ins, but if you're a faster paced person, I'm likely not the partner for you.
  • At this point, I don't give a fuck if you only play women or only play bottoms or whatever. I tend towards writing dudes, and my characters are assertive in general. Just... don't tell me if you only play women and bottoms exclusively. What I don't know, I won't judge you for lmao.
  • I do M/M and F/M. I have never actually done F/F, and I'll likely be pickier about femslash plots, but feel free to pitch me your ideas.
  • I love plotting with partners. I love plotting with enthusiastic partners. Again, no one likes typing out PARAGRAPHS and getting a 'k' in return. If I feel like you don't give a fuck, I will lose interest. Or more like scuttle away into a hole, but same shit.
  • Please. Please. Please. Do not just reply here with an 'I like this plot.' and nothing else. Do not reply here asking me to PM you. I have never understood that. Either post here or message me, but if you like a plot, expand on it. They're not completed ideas where we literally don't need to discuss anything else and just add water. In short: come to me with a solid idea. Give me something I can work with.
  • Last thing: feel free to stalk my history for samples, but the way I write tends to be almost... worshipful? If that makes sense? Narcissists interact, because my character will notice little things about yours, and whether they start off as friends, enemies or anything in between, my character will find yours fascinating. Roleplaying is a little like sex, in that I write to satisfy and flatter my partner. It's a good way to build chemistry between our characters.
Anyway, if ya'll got through that and aren't too turned off by overly verbose train wrecks, I've got plots below for you to take a gander at. Nothing is set in stone, and if you've got similar ideas, feel free to pitch 'em.
 
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#6

( aforementioned plots )


ANDROID/CREATOR

So depending on what you're into, this has the potential to be super on the slice of life side, a la Chobits, or it could go quite dark. I don't think much needs to be elaborated on, if we're gonna go with the cute route. We can hash out those details ourselves with no (potentially) nasty surprises.

On the other hand.

The Creator is playing God. Is playing with somebody else's toys. In the future, androids are regularly produced to replace more expensive human labour, to specialize in collecting and analyzing data, etc. But they're all stock machines, and are all built from the same mould. They lack social programming and true sentience.

The Creator works at a software firm that has launched its own android initiative, but he begins to tinker. In the end, he creates the Android because he's lonely. Because he's scratching that greedy, human itch to bring something of himself into the world, leave a mark, a legacy. Maybe it looks like a loved one. A dead wife. A dead husband, a dead child.

Grander plot ideas involve the social implications of creating a sentient machine, Homo Superior, corporations either after The Creator's designs, and the Android itself, either to keep it or destroy it.

Darker themes involve playing god, pseudo-fatherhood, innocence, blind trust, and power imbalances.

DELINQUENT/TUTOR

This one's just tooth achingly cute, to be honest. I picture The Delinquent as actually being the son of an oyabun, or some other kind of powerful, organized gang family. He tries to hide this at school though, to varying degrees of success. He's probably looks/acts a lot more scary and intimidating than he really is. He's also total shit at school, because he knows he going to inherit a gang someday, so why the fuck study, it's not like he's going to have any kind of post-secondary education.

So he saves some scrawny kid one day. From bullies or whatnot, we can decide the details on that. And the kid, if he's kind of outgoing and charismatic, takes a shining to him and attaches themself like a limpet, or if they're kind of more quiet and socially awkward, take it upon themself to chide him about his grades and insist that they'll pay him back by raising his position from dead last in exam scores to somewhere in the top ten.

At first, Delinquent doesn't wanna, because what the fuck. But then he sticks around because, well, this kid's kind of cute, so whatever. Eventually, he probably spends most of that tutoring hour alternatively trying (and failing) to do math and staring at the Tutor.

Later on, he'll probably realize that he doesn't want to be a god damn gokudo. Also, the Tutor probably gets involved in gang shit, either by rival gangs or by his own family's gang to try and stamp out his weaknesses/distractions etc.

SPOILS OF WAR

Also pretty dark, to be honest.

Picture two princes, or a prince and a princess, from two neighbouring kingdoms. When they'd been growing up, their countries had settled into a sort of uneasy truce, after centuries of bad blood. But they'd made peace long enough for there to be quite a few diplomatic visits between the two kingdoms, almost every summer. The kids got to know each other, became best friends, all that cute stuff.

But, predictably, the peace didn't last. As they grew older, the political atmosphere surrounding the two kingdoms became more turbulent. Territory disputes. Embargos. Increased trade tariffs. Then, suspicious deaths.

The two promised that they'd remain friends, no matter what happened, obviously. They swore a pinky promise, after all. When they became the sovereigns of their respective kingdoms, there would always be peace.

This turned out to not to be the case.

Those diplomatic visits ended, but the two still smuggled letters to each other, until one day, one of them just cut all contact. Prince(cess) A thought that perhaps Prince B's father had intercepted their letters, and tried to keep re-initiating contact, but to no avail. Eventually, years passed without them hearing a single word from each other, but Prince(cess) A spent those years believing that they were friends, that one day they'd see each other again.

At this point: either war breaks out, and when they meet on the front lines, Prince(cess) A finds Prince B a completely changed person, darker, bitter, and their enemy.

Or, Prince(cess) A finally receives a letter from Prince B, asking to rendezvous at their secret clearing, and it ends up being a trap lmao.

Eventually: Prince B marches in with his army and razes Prince(cess) A's kingdom to the ground. He reaches the heart of their capital, holds the city within the iron of his fist and squeezes, tighter and tighter until he just--stops.

And he promises that he'll stop. That he'll retreat. That he'll leave what's left of your kingdom alive, if you give him just one thing.

You.


NOBLE/MERCENARY

FINALLY! Something not fucked up. Anyway, this one's pretty light hearted and humorous. The noble is this kind of ponce, who's either been sent out on a fool's errand, or has to prove something to his family so he sets out to accomplish this task that he's woefully untrained for. Like, slaying a dragon. Or maybe his family is noble, but it's actually kind of destitute, so he gets betrothed to another family that's kind of nouveau riche, in order to save his family from poverty. But before he can, his betrothed, who he's never met, gets fucking kidnapped by some evil guy, so now he has to set off and save her before they recommence with the wedding.

Anyway, he gets to the Evil Lair, and realizes 'holy shit i can't do this' but then realizes that no one ever stipulated that he had to do any of this shit by himself, so he hires a mercenary to help him.

The mercenary wasn't exactly his first choice, but everyone else laughed in his face and refused when he told them their mission and what he was offering them. Only this crazy guy accepted.

Worlds clash. Silk vs straw, all that shit. The Noble thinks the Mercenary is a rough-hewn, uneducated lout and the Mercenary thinks the Noble is a useless ponce. They hate each other, until they don't. Somewhere along the way, they fall in love. Lmao.

DEMON/SUMMONER

More cute slice of life bullshit. This one's super simple. This stupid kid, either being hazed or thinking this will help him with his bullies and his awkward social problems, summons a fucking demon using a wikihow article. It wasn't supposed to work, but he fucked things up at exactly the right time, and somehow, something heard him, and something came when he called.

And the Demon thinks that the Human is either criminally stupid, or actually a genius, because he fucks things up in a way that binds the Demon to him, in a way that ensures the Demon can't maim or kill him.

Cue cute/awkward/cutely horrifying scenes where the Demon figures out how televisions work, or kills Human's bullies for him, or leaves him friendly reminders written in blood on the mirror, etc. This is probably the loosest of all my plots, but maybe you can help me out with that.

WIZARD/APPRENTICE

You're a poor street urchin, with a big chip on your shoulder and something to prove. Your father was gypsy filth, the villagers say, and your mother was a whore. It's the stuff of tragic back stories. So you think, wouldn't it be just the thing if you could somehow show them all up? Prove them wrong? You're braver and smarter than the whole damn lot combined... and you'll prove it by stealing some shit from the mysterious, travelling magician who'd been staying in town for a few days. Because, like you said. You were smart. Ahem.

This turns out to be one of the most ill-conceived decisions of your very short life. Sure, you stole some shit, but you'd only managed to run about a few yards away before you were caught red-handed. You're scared shitless, and are convinced you're about to be turned into a frog, when the wizard grins, and asks you how you got past his wards.

BIt of an age difference in this one. Expect chosen one prophecies, and Karate Kid-esque training montages. Can either be romantic or platonic, depending on how you swing.


AGENT/AGENT

There's a legendary rivalry between two of the most promising field agents. Everyone's heard about it, from the techies down in R&D, to the paper pushers gossiping by the water cooler. Most people assume that such seething hatred must have come from a particularly grievous incident--someone accidentally shooting somebody else's mother, or running over their dog.

Little does everyone know that when those two field agents were new, green recruits, they were: A) Being evaluated for a promotion and B) Had had an ill advised, drunken one night stand with a stranger.

How do these two facts have any connection, you ask? Well first, working for a secret government agency tends to involve a great deal of suspicion and paranoia. Comes with the territory. Secondly, it's kind of a slap in the face to walk into work the next day and find out that your competitor for that shiny promotion was the person you'd fucked only last night.

Long story short, they both assume that the other person had only slept with them to try and get a one-up on them. Added friction of one person actually getting that promotion. Essentially, a lot of misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Cold War 2, basically.

Present day sees them both being assigned to a deep cover six month long mission. It's supposed to be a secret op, which of course means that everyone knows by lunch time, and their fellow agents are already making bets to see who will kill the other first.

Mostly light hearted. They're assassins but no one really takes themselves that seriously lmao.



 
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Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I am generally an aggressive roleplayer. Usually when it's my own plot idea, I steer the story. That's not to say that I wouldn't mind letting someone else take the reins for a change.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Steampunk, Space Opera
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, master/slave, childhood best friends, anything involving children (lol),
#7

( misc. )


WORD BANK

slow burn . angst . pining . obsession . codependency . horror . rivalry . love / hate . betrayal . enemies turned allies . people with complicated history . pirates . steampunk . political intrigue . demons/angels . magicians . fairy courts . manipulation . kings . unrequited love. gangs . yakuza . opposites attract . ghosts . monsters . faustian contracts . power plays . corruption . strangers to friends to lovers to enemies . mostly lovers to enemies . long cons .


FANDOMS

Not super into fandoms at the moment, but if anyone gives a FUCK about Reaper76 then I am very much into fandoms at the moment lolol.
  • Overwatch (R76)
  • Harry Potter
  • Labyrinth
  • Avatar: The Last Airbender
  • Dragon Age