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((I'm sure you're all wondering what just happened.))

((I am too. I guess the Ray-Ban bot got to me. I know it's been a very long time since I've been on here, and for that I apologize. What a year, huh? I'm just glad I was able to access this account. Thank you to everyone who reached out to me to tell me I've been hacked, I'm now taking extra measures to keep this account safe.

Happy Holidays from Mun!))

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Mary felt a blush creep across her cheeks as the dashing stranger complimented her. She wasn’t used to compliments, especially not from men. She tried to stand tall, but she couldn’t help but crack a bashful smile. He was charming, it was almost surreal to her how a random gentleman could be so kind to her, or how a man so handsome could seem to take any interest in someone like her. She wanted to brush it off in her head, he was just raised well, he’s just this nice to every stranger he meets. Nights like this leading to romance only happened in movies...

...right?

Her train of thought was quickly broken as she watched the man stumble and fall, and heard the bottle shatter underneath him. “O-oh my goodness!” Mary cried aloud as she knelt down beside the man. She may not have been a surgeon but she did have first aid training and could, at the very least, patch him up and walk him to the hospital. She pulled her plain, light gray scarf off from around her neck and went to wrap it around his hand. Her voice turned clinical, not completely cold, but not as gentle as it had been. “It doesn’t look like it needs stitches, but I can’t tell in this light. This should stop the bleeding a little, but I can always take you to the hospital a little further off.”

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“I’m Dr. Agana,” she replied to the dark haired foreigner, “But, you can call me Mary, if it’s easier.”

She didn’t want to sound like she was condescending to the man by any means, but she could only imagine what it would be like to come to a whole new country with a whole new language. His English was good, though, and his accent wasn’t so horribly thick despite him seeming to be a very new immigrant to the country.

She lead him through the dimly lit streets of town, where they were the only two walking. Sometimes on her walks home from work, she could see the stars and the glow of the moon above her, but it had been cloudy all day and the dark night‘s clouds showed no signs of clearing away. The silence of the town at night was perfect to her, just her heels clicking against the pavement, and his much quieter footsteps following, but tonight it indicated to her just how alone she was.

No, not alone, alone with him.

Mary attempted to shake the thoughts from her mind, but still they lingered in the back of her mind like a chanting chorus. She decided a bit of levity might suit the situation, so she asked him a question. “So, Paulo, how do you like America so far? Is it greatly different than your home country?”

As she chatted, she took her usual route with the foreigner in tow. What she failed to remember now was that her usual route home, and closer to the museum the man was seeking, happened to go right through a very dark, very empty alley.

“Mary,” He said, repeating her name with a gentle smile. “A beautiful name. Very fitting for you.” 

Paulo couldn’t deny it, she was beautiful. It was part of what had drawn him to her in the first place. But that wasn’t everything, if it had been, he would have gone after her long ago. Those who had nothing more to offer than their looks never held his interest for long. But her? She was intelligent, she was passionate, driven. That much was evident by the long hours she worked each day. What was she after? What was she working toward? He wanted to learn more, he wanted to unravel her, inch by inch, and see just what was hidden inside that beautiful mind.

“It’s been very different so far, yes.” He said. “There’s so much I’m still learning, so much that’s so strange to me. But it’s exciting! There’s so much movement here. Everything is filled with so much life. It’s beautiful.”

He couldn’t help but internally smirk as he saw them approaching the alleyway. It was almost as if she had made it too easy for him. He had no intention of draining her, not that night at least. No. He wanted to savor her, wanted to truly know her and wanted to take his time with her.

But that wasn’t to say he didn’t plan on having a small taste.

“I truly cannot thank you enough for your help, Mary, it means so very-ah!” He allowed himself to stumble, a bottle having been upon the ground servicing as a viable means for him to slip. He fell, hissing softly as he felt the sting of his hand having been cut on the now broken glass. 

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Nonverbal RP Starters

I’m finding it difficult to find memes for nonverbal characters ( be they mute, or just not fond of talking ) so I thought I’d make a few!

Neutral

☝️ Tap my muse on the shoulder

👉 Point to something for my muse to see

🤙 Bump into my muse

😊 Sit down next to my muse

🤨 Sit down across from my muse

📓 Push/Slide [an object] across a table to my muse

✍️ Pass my muse a note

🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse

🚪 Tap on a table/door/wall/chair to get my muse’s attention without speaking

Aggressive

🐺 Growl at my muse

😬 Snarl/show teeth at my muse

😠 Death Glare at my muse

🙌 Push/Shove my muse

👊 Punch my muse

👖 Kick my muse in the shin

👠 Stomp on my muse’s foot

😵 Knee my muse in the gut

💀 Knee my muse in the groin

🔪 Point a weapon at my muse

🖕 Flip my muse the bird/a similar gesture

👔 Roughly pull my muse down by the collar

💢 Bang on a door/wall/table to get my muse’s attention- angrily

Angst

👩‍⚕️ Put pressure on my muse’s wound

🌡 Push my muse down to give them medical attention

🥣 Bring my muse soup/medicine when they are sick

🤢 Hold my muse’s hair back/Rub my muse’s back while they are sick/throwing up

👐 Hold my muse when they are badly wounded/dying

👁 Wake my muse up during a nightmare

🐱 Hold my muse after a nightmare

😭 Hold my muse when they are crying

😢Touch my muse’s shoulder while they are crying in secret

💧 Wipe away my muse’s tears

💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

Soft

👕 Tug on my muse’s sleeve/shirt/skirt

🐈 Lean against my muse’s side

🤝 Hold my muse’s hand

🤗 Pull my muse into a hug

🐕 Rest their head on my muse’s shoulder/knee

🐶 Nuzzle my muse with their nose [specify a location]

✋ Touch the back of my muse’s hand

🤝 Reach for my muse’s hand to hold it

👗 Fix/Straighten my muse’s clothes

😴 Stand by the bed to see if my muse will let you under the covers with them

🛌 Crawl under the covers with my muse

🥪 Set a plate/tray/bowl of food down for my muse

😚 Kiss my muse on the cheek

Playful

🌸 Put a flower in my muse’s hair

✨ Playfully shove my muse’s shoulder

💃 Pull my muse onto a dance floor/up to dance

🤞 Come up beside them and tap the shoulder opposite where they’re standing

😈 Jump out of the shadows to scare/startle my muse

😛 Stick their tongue out at my muse

😱 Make a silly face at my muse

🤭 Tickle my muse

👃 Poke my muse’s nose

💪 Pick my muse up

Sensual/Sexual

💘 Pull my muse in for a rough kiss

💕 Pull my muse in for a tender kiss

💞 Pull my muse in for a messy/desperate kiss

💖 Lean in to give my muse a sweet/chaste kiss

❤️ Lean in to give my muse a tender kiss

🔥 Pull my muse down by the collar/by their clothes - in a sexy way

😉 Pull my muse in by the hips

😲 Smack my muse’s butt

💋 Kiss my muse’s neck

👌 Push my muse down and give them a massage

👙 Pull [an article of clothing] off my muse

👀 Push my muse down on the bed

👄 Pull my muse onto the bed

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“Hmmmm,” Mary purred, grinning like a wolf when she heard her little project relay how good murder felt to her, and saw the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

She stopped for a second to think on it, before answering, “Do you want to get rid of him just yet? Or do you want to leave him out, and make an example of him for the world to see? I’d like to see you mutilate him, make him look a little less pretty, but really I want you to have fun, do what feels right to you.”

She dragged the latest victim to a mirror in the living room, blood seeped out of the mans’ chest and leg, a knife was still lodged in his chest. It took both her hands to drag him in, so holding the knife wasn’t an option. The teen looked right into the mirror and whispered her name three times. Dark fog swirled in front of her. “Have I done well, Miss Mary?” ((Nola-Schuyler))

Mary appeared on her side of the mirror, looking at the sight before her of little Nola and the dead man, whose life she herself had taken. The sight was a little unreal for Mary, the once innocent girl had finally taken the plunge into the dark, headed past the point of no return. And she had helped Nola go past that point. 

She clapped her hands and let out a cry of, “Yes! Yes, my dear, you’ve done wonderfully! Tell me, dearie, where did you find him?”

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((OOC: Regarding my absence))

Hey all. I’m sure some of you have been wondering where I’ve been these past few months. I wanna take a moment to apologize to everyone for just kind of up and running. As you can see, I’m not dead, so hooray for that! It’s been a long few months for all of us, and my day-to-day life has been hectic to say the least. With quarantine, everything about my housing and school situations changing, finding a new job, and other personal factors, suffice to say it’s been an interesting year.

I really have missed you all and missed this blog a lot, and I sincerely hope my absence hasn’t impacted anyone negatively. It’s good to be back in business.

-Sparky

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She dragged the latest victim to a mirror in the living room, blood seeped out of the mans’ chest and leg, a knife was still lodged in his chest. It took both her hands to drag him in, so holding the knife wasn’t an option. The teen looked right into the mirror and whispered her name three times. Dark fog swirled in front of her. “Have I done well, Miss Mary?” ((Nola-Schuyler))

Mary appeared on her side of the mirror, looking at the sight before her of little Nola and the dead man, whose life she herself had taken. The sight was a little unreal for Mary, the once innocent girl had finally taken the plunge into the dark, headed past the point of no return. And she had helped Nola go past that point. 

She clapped her hands and let out a cry of, “Yes! Yes, my dear, you’ve done wonderfully! Tell me, dearie, where did you find him?”

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Garlands of blue ribbons by Nicolaes van Veerendael (1659)

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(( this isn’t really part of the ask thing but I just wanted to know)) Has Mary ever drawn other people in and ‘taken them under her wing’, for lack of a better term.

Mary isn’t really the type to do it for non-selfish reasons. She sees “taking someone in” as an opportunity to corrupt the innocent, to seed a little bit of chaos in the world, to get more people afraid and to teach someone only so much, so that she knows how to break them if they get out of line.

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How does your muse approach one-night stands versus long term partners?

Well, with a one night stand, she’s usually expecting to...dispose, of that person shortly after, so she’s fairly a lot more likely to behave in a more promiscuous manner to get what she wants from her intended. To her, of course, she feels silly, but it won’t matter for very long.

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How does your muse flirt?

A lot of her flirtation is with words, because in her mind, at least, she’s far better of a communicator than a looker. She’s not afraid to get a little touchy, though, and use her body language to indicate that she’s interested.

Mary’s quite meticulous when she does flirt with her body: every action, every pout of her lips, every slight movement of her hips, her head, her arms, is all planned down to a science. She usually doesn’t flirt unless she knows she has the upper hand. Oh, and when I say she gets a little touchy, I mean she gets very touchy. She’ll put her hands on her intended’s shoulders, take their hands in hers, run a hand through their hair, really get up in their space.

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Does your muse use protection? If so, what kind?

I mean, does the whole “not being a living human being anymore” thing count? I feel like that basically takes all the risk out of it, but hey, what do I know?

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Does your muse enjoy cuddling after sex?, What is a fantasy your muse has? , What was your muse’s best sexual experience?

Does your muse enjoy cuddling after sex?

Yes, but she would never admit to it. Feelings? Bah, what are those?

What is a fantasy your muse has?

Mary, admittedly, wants a partner to take control of her sometimes, and more or less make her submit. She can get tired of being a dominant force!

What was your muse’s best sexual experience?

Now, Mary is by no means the kind of lady to kiss and tell, however, she had managed to seduce some poor lad that summoned her and pulled him into the mirror. What happened to him during the act? Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.

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In-Depth Sinday Meme

What is your muse’s favorite place(s) to be touched?

Are there any foods that are like aphrodisiacs to your muse?

Are there particular scents/sounds that turn your muse on?

Does your muse enjoy dirty talk? Do they like to do the talking or being dirty talked?

What are some subtle gestures that get your muse in the mood?

How does your muse communicate to others they they’re in the mood?

How does your muse flirt?

How does your muse approach someone they want to sleep with?

What are some physical things your muse does when they want someone to sleep with them?

How does your muse approach one-night stands versus long term partners?

Is your muse very physically intimate?

Is your muse very emotionally intimate?

Does your muse enjoy cuddling after sex?

What are the requirements for your muse to sleep with someone?

Does your muse use protection? If so, what kind?

What is a fantasy your muse has?

Is your muse noisy in bed? How noisy? What makes them reach that level?

Does your muse enjoy teasing? Giving or receiving? How long can they stand it?

How does your muse respond to people making advances on them?

What is a kink your muse has? How would they bring it up to their partner?

What is one sexual insecurity that your muse has?

What kills the mood for your muse instantly?

What gets your muse in the mood instantly?

Does your muse enjoy roleplaying in the bedroom?

Does your muse prefer gentle lovemaking or rough sex?

Is your muse the type to fall in love from having sex or to leave it be?

What was your muse’s first sexual experience?

What was your muse’s best sexual experience?

What was their worst sexual experience?

Does your muse enjoy kissing? Caressing?

What is your muse’s favorite part of sex?

What is one area they’re great at during sex?

What is one area they could use improvement in during sex?

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“I’m Dr. Agana,” she replied to the dark haired foreigner, “But, you can call me Mary, if it’s easier.”

She didn’t want to sound like she was condescending to the man by any means, but she could only imagine what it would be like to come to a whole new country with a whole new language. His English was good, though, and his accent wasn’t so horribly thick despite him seeming to be a very new immigrant to the country.

She lead him through the dimly lit streets of town, where they were the only two walking. Sometimes on her walks home from work, she could see the stars and the glow of the moon above her, but it had been cloudy all day and the dark night‘s clouds showed no signs of clearing away. The silence of the town at night was perfect to her, just her heels clicking against the pavement, and his much quieter footsteps following, but tonight it indicated to her just how alone she was.

No, not alone, alone with him.

Mary attempted to shake the thoughts from her mind, but still they lingered in the back of her mind like a chanting chorus. She decided a bit of levity might suit the situation, so she asked him a question. “So, Paulo, how do you like America so far? Is it greatly different than your home country?”

As she chatted, she took her usual route with the foreigner in tow. What she failed to remember now was that her usual route home, and closer to the museum the man was seeking, happened to go right through a very dark, very empty alley.

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When the foreign man mentioned the art museum, her eyes widened with recognition. “Oh, the art museum?” She remarked, “I know exactly where it is, it’s not very far, actually. I can walk you there, I’m headed to the area.”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to admit to this stranger that the art museum was on her way home, but he probably gleaned that from the context. The truth was that she had been walking past the art museum every day when she walked to and from work, yet had never been in there. She wanted to know more about this man, what he needed at the museum. Maybe she would have an excuse to go now, to see him. He certainly was handsome, and he seemed kind. She couldn’t shake the inexplicable feeling that something was different about this man, besides the obvious fact that he wasn’t American.

She shook off the feeling, telling herself she watched too many movies and composed herself internally, hoping her concern wasn’t obvious. She didn’t want to look like some scared damsel in front of this man who had come to her for help. Mary took one hand off her briefcase and gestured for the man to follow her, as she added, “You have nothing to worry about, I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Are you certain?” He asked, feigning worry. “I hate to disrupt your evening, but if you would, it would mean so much to me.”

Paulo made a point to keep his distance from her and to give her space. He could tell that she was slightly uneasy, the way in which he had heard her pulse jump was enough to give that away. It was typical, really, most women he approached did have that spike of fear when he called out to them. They were right to be fearful of him, but not for the reasons they thought.

“I owe you so much, thank you,” He said, giving her a smile as he followed after her. “I’m sorry it’s so very late. I’m not yet used to the difference in time. It’s very odd for me still, I seem to have become almost nocturnal. But beginning work will help that, I believe.”

In all truth, he was looking forward to starting work at the museum. It was certainly a change in pace from the usual jobs he took to keep himself afloat as he focused on his true work, and an enjoyable one at that. He was skilled when it came to more static art forms, having learned to paint and sketch when he was very young, and it gave him exposure to a large amount of people. All the better for him, really.

“Forgive me,” He said, looking at her. “I’ve been so rude. My name is Paulo.”

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Closed starter with @fearslantern

Mary’s human past and curious nature were secret to very few, and Adaru was not one of those few. He had known for decades about where Mary came from, and had at least a vague idea of what her life was like when her heart still beat and her blood was warm in her veins. Mary never knew much about Adaru’s life, besides the fact that he had once been human, and that he had been around much longer than her. She couldn’t imagine centuries of life, millennia, even, of living endlessly. It would be nice to never know oblivion’s icy grip in theory, but, in practice it seemed much harder.

Mary was not known to be a woman of much emotion, but she did feel one more than she was proud of: loneliness. After all, she had lost most of her family by now, and those she didn’t lose had no idea who she was.

The dark-haired lady turned and looked toward the creature that stood before her, once a man, but now a god. How did he do it, she wondered, how did he not feel the endless sadness that comes from being separated from those you love, forever? Was he ever truly okay with shedding his mortal life for this? Mary knew she certainly didn’t sign up for this, she didn’t hate her duty or the state she was in, but she always hated never having a choice.

“Adaru?” She called out, hesitantly, secretly hoping the towering god couldn’t hear her, “Did you ever have a family? Back when you were human, like me?”

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When the foreign man mentioned the art museum, her eyes widened with recognition. “Oh, the art museum?” She remarked, “I know exactly where it is, it’s not very far, actually. I can walk you there, I’m headed to the area.”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to admit to this stranger that the art museum was on her way home, but he probably gleaned that from the context. The truth was that she had been walking past the art museum every day when she walked to and from work, yet had never been in there. She wanted to know more about this man, what he needed at the museum. Maybe she would have an excuse to go now, to see him. He certainly was handsome, and he seemed kind. She couldn’t shake the inexplicable feeling that something was different about this man, besides the obvious fact that he wasn’t American.

She shook off the feeling, telling herself she watched too many movies and composed herself internally, hoping her concern wasn’t obvious. She didn’t want to look like some scared damsel in front of this man who had come to her for help. Mary took one hand off her briefcase and gestured for the man to follow her, as she added, “You have nothing to worry about, I know exactly where we’re going.”

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Mary stopped to turn when a foreign-sounding voice called out to her, softly and anxiously. She had only heard accents like that before in films, usually belonging to vampires and villains, but in spite of that she always felt it had an indescribable charm to it.

She blinked in surprise at the unexpected approach, and put both hands on the handle of her briefcase in case she needed to swing it in defense against the man, as she began, “Where do you need to go? I don’t live far, but I’m more than happy to call you a cab.” Mother always warned her against talking to strange men at night, but Mary was an adult now. She could more than handle herself if need be. Besides, he looked like he legitimately needed help, if he wasn’t from around here she might be his best bet.

He shook his head, looking even more stressed. “A cab…I don’t think…I’m looking for the arts museum? It’s quite late, I know, but I’m very new here and I’m to be starting to work there soon. Tomorrow, in fact! But…I wanted to try to find where it was first…” 

Surprisingly, not a lie. He had taken up a position at the museum. It worked as a cover well enough, acting as an assistant to the curator and working nights to ensure the collection was properly maintained. Boring, perhaps, compared to his preferred work, but still a worthwhile way of paying bills. 

“It’s…” Paulo fumbled with the map in his hands. Playing the role of the pathetic lost gentleman was cliche, perhaps, but it worked. And he was more than capable of looking and playing the part. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been able to find a good meal simple because people felt bad for him. “Near here? Or….I’m so sorry…I’m far more lost than I had thought…” 

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