#ST Prodigy RP

[wcrpbubble]

--- ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɓuoɹʍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

[midsommersonnets]

1x1 rp req (18+ writers) : dark romance / possible dead dove : daughter of rich man's mistress (f) x rich man's legitimate son (m).

gnawing at the bars of my cage because i crave this one very specific dark romance plot with desperation. please, come at me if you wanna give me tension, twistedness, and crossed lines... i need the thin line between hate and love, red flag actions, and toxic emotions in spades for this one,, pls gang,, lets serve chaos 🙏 the plot basis: f oc is the daughter of m oc's father's mistress. she is a blight on their elite families and they never let her forget it. she's an unwelcome sight. this girl's irrationally beautiful existence makes the cruel, prodigial son sick with so many intense emotions. the daughter of his enemy should suffer. an outsider deserves no mercy. she doesn't belong here in his world of endless money, power-fuelled hierarchy, and cutthroat machinations. this elite society is not meant for someone like her to taint with her sinful origins; no, it is his field to rule so how dare she infiltrate it and cast a shadow on his iron-fisted rule. he needs to put her in her place for his family/revenge's sake. she may have a shared connection to him -- but she is not pure, she does not belong, she will never matter like he does. the girl is an impostor, an infiltrator, so he deals with her by enacting a cat n mouse game. he exacts revenge by using his power to toy with her, by finally settling her familial debt through using her body and mind as his makeshift canvas and scoreboard. details pending on how the cat n mouse game / revenge seeking would pan out because i can go as dark or as light as my fellow writer desires. could see lots of dead dove themes in the plot if the other writer is comfortable with it (mindgames, d*bcon/n*ncon (?), power imbalance, fauxcest/inc*st (?), toxicity, darker kinks, psychological horror, etc). ultimately, i need the m being completely obsessed with the f, culminating in him wanting to break her. while she will fight back as best as she can because she is her mothers daughter just as much as he is his fathers son <3. possible reverse harem / poly antics if m's best friends want to get in on the action but not a necessity. maybe secret society and fucked up frat rituals are in play. possibly, an elite academy or university setting, or alternately, a set-up for a fucked up arranged marriage. would love an exploration into both ocs very fucked-up mindsers. we can workshop things together. <3.

housekeeping :: i'm 21f+, so 18+ writers only, please.

flexible literacy is my preference. i can span from writing para to multi-para or multi-message (literate-novella). generally, i tend to mirror or write based on what the rp scene requires. i really want to get past the planning stage for this rp but am also VERY pro-prose (pretty writing and striking imagery are a beloved weakness <3), so initially, multi-para / para would be preferred.

strong preference for myself to write as the f in a mxf pairing for this idea, or mxfxm if desired. not into doubling of any kind due to time constraints and preferring to give my full energy to just one pairing/plot, but i will write many side characters for the sake of developing the world and plot.

an undying NEED for headcanons, pinboards, plotting n rambling, side threads/text threads and playlists to be utilised because ooc developing is my lifeblood. my beloved chatty and rambly writers– pls hmu because we are the same !! i love to yap about ocs and pairings far too much.

i'm fine with smut, darker themes, dead dove, etc, and am also equally okay with fade to black and less overt darkness. keep in mind, i will respect limits, and i hope others will do the same for me. expanding on this point, limits and specific rp desires will be discussed in dms before moving to discord.

on that note, i write on discord platform only.

like/comment/dm if interested.

[iincogneeto]

Redoing my intro since I don’t post KNY as much!

( CLICK HERE FOR MY KNY ACC INTRO STUFF )

hii! I’m neeto! (Short for incogneeto) “neeto” doesnt mean anything N.E.E.T related, the og spelling for incognito was taken everywhere ☹️

I’m a minor! I’m Hungarian (🇭🇺) and American (🇺🇸) I speak a litttlee bit of Magyar 🤏🤏

I go by they/them online! ^_^

I’m into: MHA, kimetsu-no-yaiba, Mob Psycho 100, Zom100, Undead Unluck, One Piece, TTOA/ROTT, HTTYD, Carmen Sandiego, Ninjago, Saiki K, Glitch Techs, TLKOE, SpiderMan, Kid cosmic!!!, Breaking Bad, Better Caul Saul, JJK, Star Trek Prodigy, ST: Lower decks, and more!

As of august 2024, I’ve gotten comfortable actually making art for stuff called “audio rp” it’s like asmr??? (Idk it’s cool tho) and I draw a lot of characters/listeners from series i like! (BvZ and MoTH mainly) So you’ll see a lot of that from me!

if you need to find me somewhere else I usually go by something like: “incogneeto” (ex: iincogneeto, incogneetto, or maybe just “neeto”)

That’s all for now! I’ll add some more some other time! :-)

[mschloevalentine]

Been writing a new character recently (partly via RP) and just- They give me so much euphoria, I can't even begin to explain.

Okay well actually, I can begin to explain. So you know how some people have characters that they play/write who give them Gender Euphoria? Well this character gives me a kind of... Autistic Euphoria. It's just so satisfying to be able to play them and sit comfortably in their body and embrace all of their weirdness.

Their name is Sir Westlyn Arnault- Also known as West, also known as Wes, they're a Knight/Paladin who is famously skilled and powerful but also famously... Simply very strange. Their constant silence and staring, their apparent emotionlessness, how they never ever seem to remove their armor and especially not their helmet, and many other odd behaviors have left people sometimes referring to them as 'The Strange Knight'.

But at the same time, people respect them. Because they are a powerful warrior, and a highly analytical tactical master. What they lack in social skills they make up for in battle training. They're extra observant and process information quickly, and can come up with a battle plan in a matter of mere moments, analyzing the weak spots and 'stats' of their enemies and adjusting accordingly.

Their fame actually even results in plenty of fair maidens flirting with them- They're just far too oblivious to pick up on any of the signals.

Also, their backstory is pretty simple. When still a young baby girl, they were orphaned, and the Order of Knights tasked a more mature Knight among them to go seek a person willing to adopt the child. But the child was strange, never crying and always staring. Even as it grew. People may have had her months at a time, but eventually grew too unnerved or intolerant towards her- Stating that she was cursed, a changeling child, and the like.

So the Knight who had been tasked with finding her a home adopted her instead, and she was raised in the Knights Academy, almost entirely amongst men. She was still strange, and treated as such, but the young Knights were trained with chivalry in mind, and mostly looked to her with respect, especially since her adoptive father was one of the more revered Knights in the Academy.

It wasn't long before they just began to be treated much like the boys and the men who surrounded them. They trained in swordfighting, tactics, they attended classes on history and chivalry, language and mathematics...

In their youth they ended up in a lot of fights due to their strange behavior, but they eventually learned how to manage themselves. They're lucky that their Father was tolerant towards their strangeness, and willing to work through it with them so that they could get by in the world. One of the things he taught them was to repeat lessons and tenets to themselves, a form of comforting stim that wasn't too intrusive, and also helped remind them to be chivalrous and virtuous.

Eventually, as they grew older, they showed more and more skill in battle, and their iron-clad grip on the ways of chivalry and the virtuous oaths resulted in them being regarded as a prodigy, and not long later, they were Knighted.

Most people by then knew them as Male, Sir West Arnault. They spoke in a masculine way (on the rare occasions people heard them speak) and they never removed their helm, so most people simply assumed. They were most comfortable with their helm now. Partly because of the comfort that sturdy armor brought them. And partly because it didn't draw attention to the fact they were apparently a woman. Because it hid away the features people always said were dead, empty, expressionless. It hid them away from prying, judging eyes that would question their very existence if they knew what was beneath the armor.

So most people know Sir West Arnault as the Virtuous Knight, who exemplifies their Oaths, even though they are a strange and apparently antisocial person. A Knight who rarely speaks and occasionally does strange things, or who stares far too long. A Knight who is revered in skill but a mystery outside of the battlefield. Who maidens swoon for but never get a chance to learn the truth about.

...

I just think West is a cool character. They have a weird relationship with gender (He/They/She Pronouns, by the way) and I play them as unabashedly neurodivergent and write them using my own experiences being an autistic adhd mess. And I can write them without excuses, I can write them without toning them down- They're simply my chance to be an autistic character who is successful and respected.

And what's more is the setting I've been roleplaying them in is a darkish-fantasy type setting, so there's no excuses of 'High, Bright Fantasy' being the only reason the character works with their neurodivergence. Their setting isn't all grimdark, of course, but it definitely has some Dark Souls-inspiration to it which I enjoy. And they get to be a cool silent protagonist with that dash of neurodivergency that makes me feel comfortable playing them...

Oh, also, in terms of physical appearance, I haven't completely fleshed them out yet, particularly because they wear their armor so much, but I have ideas in mind. For one, their armor and their sword have some slight Eagle symbology- feathered wing designs for the crossguard of their longsword and part of their helmet. They wear mostly blue cloth alongside their armor. And they're a bit tall, at 192 cm exactly. Beneath the helmet and armor is a scarred female body, some traits I've noted so far are Short, Black, Curly Hair that gets in the way of their eyes, and a diagonal scar along the left side of their lips and down their chin. I imagine their face has a few more scars, but I haven't decided on any more just yet. I'm thinking about maybe leaning a bit more into that eagle symbology for them by giving them a tattoo of feathered wings on their back- Perhaps?

Oh, also, in terms of sexual/romantic preference... I'd say Sapphic, most likely, almost exclusively interested in women. (Though other masculine women wouldn't be off the table.) Maybe also Demisexual, because I can make as many of my characters Demi as I want and you bitches can't stop me. (But also because it makes sense considering they are so uncomfortable without their armor, so they'd really need to trust a person before doing anything of that sort.)

Anyways. Thank you for tuning in to another irregular episode of 'Chloe rambles about a character for way longer than should be appropriate for a Tumblr Post', I'll see y'all next time.

[dvanatxndi]

Okay so I have a question. I know that it isn’t the most well received or liked show from all of Star Trek but should I make a Star Trek Prodigy RP blog? Would anyone be interested in RP if I did?

[toko-writing-imagines]

Welcome to the city!~ 💜

~ updated intro post ~

Yep yep! I'm finally deciding to update my intro page - by making a whole new post with my updated rules and intro

To my new and old citizens, my name is Toko Fukawa , also going by Mod Toko. And I am the Ultimate Writing Prodigy 💜

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《 Traincar : Little things to know first 》

• I use all pronouns (she/he/they) and I don't care which ones you really use

• My inbox will always be open unless stated otherwise. Feel free to request, chat, or ask any questions ^^

• The character limit for requesting is 6 (only exception is wanting a full cast)

• I write in 2nd pov and usually the s/o (reader/you) is gender neutral

• I will only be writing THH, SDR2, and V3

• I will be using he/him pronouns for Chihiro!!! Please don't start any discourse about his gender

• Toko rp blog - @ask-hikikomori-toko

• If I don't get back to you on an ask, please don't take it as me ignoring you. I will answer your ask when I can

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《 The Mall : Rules 》

☂︎ Mod Toko will write:

• Fluff

• Hurt/Comfort

• Headcanons

• SFW

• Serious topics

☂︎ Mod Toko will not write:

• NSFW

• P*dophillia

• Inc*st

• Excessive gore

• Any UDG characters

• Scenarios or Oneshots/Fics

• Angst (ie. s/o being murdered or executed, [dr character] dying, etc.)

[ This blog is mainly for fluff <3 ]

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《 Static Maze : Unavailable characters 》

• THH cast : Hagakure, Hifumi, Leon

• SDR2 cast : Hiyoko, Soda, Teruteru, Nekomaru, Gundham, Nagito

• V3 cast : Kokichi, Korekiyo, Kaito

(Note: The unavailable characters may change in time)

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《 Hell : Discomforts and Triggers 》

• IshiToko (Taka x Toko) - This is a discomfort

• Komaru x H/iji - This is a major discomfort

• Incest ships - This is a discomfort

• DMing me with no proper reason or are not mutuals - This is a minor discomfort

• Starting Chihiro gender discourse - This is a major discomfort

• The dentist - This is a major discomfort

• Telling me I'll be put into a hospital in any situation - This is a trigger

( I ask you all to please respect this list, and do know it may be updated from time to time )

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Now everybody, go on and wish upon a star

I'll be waiting ♡

~ Mod Toko 💜

[2334242xiao]

6 Months Until The Last Snowflake Falls (DenNor)

Hullo! So remember the rp with my friend-- Mengshui (She’s chinese, i doubt she will get tumblr) This fic is sorely based and dedicated to that, with some edits of course because it would make it more dramatic. 

Take note: English is my 3rd language  so if there are solecisms, then you would know why. Sorry that I didn’t get that graphic with the ‘lemon’ scene because I solely wanted to focus on the emotions instead of that. 

I will however link an FF.NET VERSION when I do release it there.

 Summary: Lukas Bondevik is a blind violinist who abhors the world. Being blind from birth, Lukas finds it hard to find anything beautiful, only ever self-absorbed and a withdrawn individual who spends countless days playing his musical instrument. Mathias Kohler is an ex-bassist who has yet to come terms with his terminal illness that would render him incapacitated in a few months. After excusing himself from intensive care, the two souls meet and treasure the remaining days Mathias has left before it finally ends. 

 1st month:

Walking down the pebbled sidewalk, it was the end of spring and summer had set in the lush green trees embittered into a soiled golden brown that brushed past the sidewalk, the mordent smell of coffee brown soil wafted into the air, the numbers bustling to and fro down the jagged path, ducking underneath honey golden leaves that rustled, teeming with life. A lone musician stood in the audience of passersby, eyes closed, skin pale and donning a scarf that wrapped around his neck, dissembling his lips and the tip of his nose that freckled with red.

Lukas Bondevik

The blind violinist prodigy as they’ve acclaimed him to be and no doubt the way his bow danced and how his arms slid back and forth, thread against thread, dancing to the melancholy of his crest-fallen music, bringing forth uncertain despondency, compelling people of different colors, different pasts and labels to flick a coin onto his violin case laid next to him.

A distinct physique halted in front of him and with a mirth-full smirk, flicked his own coin, a cheeky smile ever present on his bubbly face, golden hair brushed of his forehead, in discernable spikes that oddly resembled that of a plant, striking cerulean eyes and a winsome face to win it all.

He clasped his hand together in an audible clap, and Lukas shoulder’s loosened, his bow and violin lowered as if to acknowledge the strange presence in front of him.

“You play really well,” He joshed, his claps waning off into the distance, his interest clearly piqued with how his blue eyes were glazed over and he reluctantly extends his arm, waiting for the other to take albeit; Lukas stayed taut, his eyes closed and for some reason Mathias pondered why it was.

“My name is Mathias Kohler,”

___

2nd month:

Mathias had waited for Lukas to finish his daily tutoring session, which the Norwegian frequently did as a side job, mainly because it helped with the daily expenses. The seasons have turned warm now, the sun scorching and the days grew longer and the night grew shorter. Beads of sweat blossomed from the other’s feverish skin as he awaited for his friend, who later on revealed himself, hobbling out of a twin crested ornate door, probably dark Oakwood, tapping his cane along the small flight of stairs, spurring Mathias to aid him down, only to be deliberately shoved off and rejected.

“Don’t. Pity. Me. Kohler.” He glowered, and he opened his eyes, a blue-gray milkiness that showed only fiery indignation at the other’s advances. Mathias froze up in spot before chuckling riotously, scratching his nape as he did so. “Sorry, Lukas—“He apologizes profusely, head hanging and gaze averted.

He had deciphered over time that Lukas was blind; it was one of the latter’s insecurities and he reprehended anyone who would take pity on him and that include majority of the human population, viewing the world in such a contemptuous, pessimistic view point and perceiving most human interaction as unremarkable and insignificant with little to no outcome, a verdant fruit left to rot.

Somehow despite all of this, Mathias had wriggling himself into Lukas’s daily life and also their interactions have been all but bitter before, it ameliorated and escalated every day until Lukas had found Mathias’s presence to be soothing, propitiating him when he was being trampled by his own insecurities.

 ___

3rd month

Mathias had noticed over the past days, really how his tousled blonde hair would grow thinner, thinner and thinner until it ruffled away when he combed through it. Obvious distraught in his visage and he felt himself sliding down the bathroom wall, wrapping his arms around the comfort of his legs, face buried against sallow and tender skin as he observed the tufts of wheat that littered around him, the bathroom in disarray, sobs erupted from his throat and his breathed staggered, feeling asphyxiated by the growing apprehensive thought of death knocking around the corner.

As he watched his tears stream from his face like an open faucet, sagely inconsolable, a knock would present itself on his doorstep, accompanied by the incessant pressing of his doorbell. Slowly and surely he gathered himself, wiping the droplets of tears that emerged from the sea of his blue eyes, finally desolating the bathroom after what it seemed like hours.

This wasn’t virtuous; this wasn’t equitable, that sooner or later his friable state would worsen and he would be incapacitated, disfigured in hospital bed, left to die alone.

Putting on a façade was easier than admitting his doubts, his concerns and the demons he had to face when he was alone. It was so much easier to smile through pain than share the sorrow and distraught with people around you.

He treads towards the main door and opens it, seeing Lukas appear, bringing a blissful smile on his face as he did so. The aching faded and diminished extinguished by the blonde that stood on his doorstep, amidst the heat of the summer sun, the cacophony of bird’s chirps drowning off in the background.

“Lukas~!” He exclaimed with jubilation, arms wrapped instantly around the other’s frame causing Lukas to stagger a little backwards, a lone arm wrapped around the Dane’s waist, the other holding a crumpled brown bag with ‘Lukas’ scrawled on top of it. As their faces brushed momentarily could Lukas feel as there was damp flesh slapped against his own, the friction bleak and unusually frigid.

“… Are you OK…?”

___

4th month

The night sky was exhilarating, brilliant bejeweled stars hung themselves against the vast midnight blue atmosphere, the rustling of leaves against the moonlit winds and the whistle of tones at the gales whirled past them. In the midst of a the grass field sat two men, one eyes brilliantly complemented the midnight blue sky and one whose had his close, shrouded in deep shadow by the offset of his brow ridge. They both remained to be cordially taciturn, cumbersome bodies against the pillow of green strands that littered over the field, munificent and abundant.

“The night looks really good tonight!” Mathias had the audacity to point out, causing Lukas to audibly scoff, shaking his head lightly.

Didn’t this buffoon get it? It’s not like he can see it either ways. Mathias was stupid.

Still he baffled himself why Mathias had successfully brought him out in the middle of the night where the temperature was freezing as the autumn sets in and the branches becoming bare, leaves falling leaving them naked. Plants would shrivel and brown and golden leaves littered the ground. Even the greenery had turned a tad earthly and no doubt would hibernate soon, extinguished back to the soil to thrive again in the opening of spring.

“Oh look at that star! It looks like a horse—err—a cat? Dog?” He could even discern even the most simple of information even when he was the one blessed with the ability to see, so his companion could only stifle a small fit of facetious laughter, nearly tearing up at the other’s puzzlement.

“You’re an idiot, you know that Matt?” He called, his breath harrowing underneath him, shuddering as the cold wind pressed against his skin, causing him to rubbing his attenuated fingers along the boney ridge of his right arm. “I can’t see *shit.* “Lukas curses in hilarious profanity, prompting a gasp from Matthias.

“I can’t believe you Lukas! Did you just curse?” For a fact, it was nothing but joviality and buoyancy that tainted the blonde’s voice, rolling his eyes at the other’s misleading attitude, feeling the coldness of the air stick to his skin away, causing him to quiver lightly.

So suddenly before the Dane could muster up another witty reproach, Lukas steels himself just enough to roll over to Mathias’s side nuzzling against the warmth of his torso, laying his head so lightly against the other’s warmth, causing Mathias to constrict, promptly tongue-tied as his diaphragm entraps itself and his heart threatening to burst as his lungs refused to pump.

“For the record…” Lukas stared, his voice drawled as he looked up at what he could only make out at the Dane’s face, a soft smile of hilarity prevailed on his face. “It’s not so bad… Tonight I mean.” Averred the Norwegian and Matthias’s laughs, breath throttling as he tentatively sneaks his arm around Lukas’s thin waist pulling him closer, closer and closer until he could feel Lukas’s breath tickle his face, pressing the ghost of a kiss against fervent lips and both conjectured that truly, the feelings that stirred inside of them were more than just illusions of the weary heart.

It felt like acid lava circulating in their veins rewiring them and the kiss grew more avid over time, passion lapped on the both of them and Matthias takes this advantage to outclass the Norwegian, pushing his tongue in between the other’s jaw, licking along the hollow of his cheeks, the bumpiness of his teeth and the taste that lingered in between them, all the while earnest touches wiped down the other’s body, down Lukas’s sides, up Mathias’s shoulder.

Mathias ends the zestful kiss too soon and a whine pushed its way through Lukas’s parted ones as if in lost, yearning for the touch the other wanted to give him so. Mathias licks his damp lips and suddenly felt so penitent.

“L-Lukas…” He stammered unable to process the grave mistake that he had just allowed to happen, a blunder that he would regret for the rest of his days that would only mar abrasions on his soul when he would pass from the earth, because Mathias was ticking time bomb and nearly at its peak.

“Y-Yeah..?” Lukas pondered if it was something that he did, wondered if it was  his fault to stir something wicked and odious inside the other to frenzy his sadness, his deplorable expression that even Lukas knew was prolific on his face.

“I have to tell you something…” Barely a hushed whisper, only amplified enough for the Norwegian to grasp and assimilate the meaning. Lukas was expecting it, three words, and the syllables that would put them both in composure and confirm the other’s bursting feelings.

“I’m dying, Lukas. “ As if three new words spelled death for the other and Lukas felt his heart sink deep into his stomach, felt reprehension and detest pile up in his core, because the other had been so *knavish* allowing Lukas to fall in love with him, allowing it to get this far.

He couldn’t even search for words that didn’t exist and so he lets the sobs take over as he pressed his face against Mathias’s collarbone, gritting his teeth together. “Why does everything I ever care about…? Everything I love everything I give a shit about always leave me…?” He bellowed, deep in sullen, trying to stifle most of his hurt, trying to aid plasters on the wound that Mathias had lacerated him with, leaving him disfigured.

Mathias bore no answer and so silently, he wallowed in self-pity. There was hollowness in the midst of them.

___

5th month

It was night and the heat of the party had gotten the better of them, being invited to the early Christmas party of Tino and Berwald, only leaving both of the blonde incoherent, Mathias mustering the last of his strength to drag Lukas home, though as soon as they Lukas’s back collided with the smooth door, his arms fly around Mathias’s neck, bringing the taller male’s head down, brushing their lips with extreme fervor, his knee digging against his lover’s crotch.

Mathias lets out a throaty gasp in retort, his arms pinning the shorter male’s against the expanse of the door, prompting Lukas to immediately writhe and struggle against the other’s touch, trying to pry Mathias’s inviolable grip to no avail, the Dane’s hand locked him in place and kissed underneath his jaw, down the sensitive skin of his neck nibbling lightly, sucking earnestly, leaving little love marks here and there.

Lukas presses his knee unreasonably hard against the Dane’s nether regions, causing Mathias to retreat and gasp in pain as he did so. “We’re not doing it outside, Mathias—“He shuddered, feeling the air cloud up around him, shivering lightly as he pocketed the key to their house, considering that Mathias had moved in a few weeks ago.

“That fucking hurts, Lukas—“Hissed the other, all the while hands set on his jeans trying to ease and palliate the pain he felt, much to his dismay. It didn’t take Lukas long to creak the door open and unfathomable eyes looked back at his pained boyfriend as if beckoning him inside. “Are you going to whine about it or fuck me?”

At the vulgarities and the scrutiny of his boyfriend, Mathias could feel himself come alive and so zestfully he followed after Lukas, only to press him against the wall, kicking the door shut, the ring of keys dropping on the floor with a clunk and a ring, probably to be found in the midst of all their clatter in the morning.

Mathias takes a long drag, peppering the neck of his lover with much kisses, licks and everything in between, anything that could foster out all those lovely moans from the other male and Lukas wasn’t in the mood to deny him of that to be honest. They rut against in other in unimaginable heat, crotch against crotch, enough to frenzy both of them alive.

It didn’t take long until the two stumbled themselves towards the bedroom, undressing all the way, leaving a litter of clothes after their trail and of course, sooner or later Lukas’s back was pressed against the softness of the comforter and Mathias was on top of his him, pressing kisses all over his face, causing the Norwegian to swat at him. “Q-Quit that! I-I-I-It tickles! M-Mathias, no, s-top!” He exclaimed, voice thundering as he did so squirming in the other’s hold, trying to push Mathias’s face away from his.

“No! I’m a monster and I’ll eat you guts~! Rawr!” Other professed before lunging for the other’s flat stomach and lavishing the skin with much more kisses, causing Lukas to burst out in a strong fit of laughter, gripping the sheets below him. “No! Stop! Stop—Ahhaha- stop!” He cried out, feeling tears teetering from his lashes, streaming down his cheeks.

Mathias slowly retracts his head from the other’s stomach, pressing his weight lightly against Lukas, leaving a kiss on his lips, soft and gentle, before he reached over to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of lotion, holding it up, pressing the cold container against Lukas’s face, causing the other to furrow his eyebrows. “Stop surprising me idiot!” He upbraided, his eyes sliding open to glare at the direction he perceived his lover’s face was, Mathias drawing the container away from Lukas’s face, a smile of hilarity stained his features before he popped the lid open. “Alright….” He lilted, humming a sing song tune, pressing his fingers against the other’s entrance.

Their rutting came by next and the only audio was the light creaking of the bed and the moans that littered around the air, the musk thick as the two men rocked against each other’s body, groaning and moaning in unison as they did so, scratching marks all over the other’s body, marking, kissing, licking. It was surprisingly soft, a torturous pace but full of love anyways, that and Mathias had the gall to make jokes throughout it, turning it into something full of endeavor in a second. Lukas didn’t really appreciate it, but when both reached rapture and their unwieldy body stuck together, Mathias rolling off of Lukas and heaving a sigh, then a small hobble of laughter followed as he gathered the Norwegian that laid close to him, causing Lukas to press a hand against his face. “No cuddling, you’re sticky and I don’t like it.” He protested, though the next thing he did was rather contradicting, rolling over so he could slink an arm around Matthias’s waist, nuzzling his chest. “Says the one who’s cuddly~” He teased, playing with the Norwegian’s hair.

This was nice, amicable even and the Dane was glad to have lived through their tender moments with his lover. Everything was idyllic and of course the apprehension of dying was still there. Especially since Mathias had noticed that his hair had gotten indisputably thin these past days and his skin turned sallow, and was rapidly losing weight, the blood spitting and nosebleeds had become rampant as well and he was so relieved that Lukas didn’t have to see all that mess, didn’t have to see what a mess Mathias had become.

“Good night, Matthias.” The Norwegian bids farewell, pressing a faint kiss against the other’s cheek, burrowing himself in the warmth that the other offered. With a rueful smile that traced his features, his fingers found themselves tangling in Lukas’s smooth blonde hair. “Good night. I love you.”

____

6th month

“Give us a smile Mathias!” Tino touted from where he was standing, polaroid camera in his hands as he did so. Mathias complied, gracing his friends with a small smile. It had been exceptionally hard to breathe nowadays and the pain he felt was excruciating even when they’d administered pain killers, it only got more and more apparent that Mathias wasn’t going to prevail through this and he could see it beyond the transparency of Tino’s smile or Berwald’s unexplained silence—maybe it was only Lukas who coveted that he fight through, because then the Norwegian wouldn’t be able to go on without the Dane.

He felt ugly.

He felt really ugly.

There was not a strand of blonde hair left on his scalp, his flesh hanging on to the brittle frame of his bones. His eyes were sunken and dulled to a sullen grey color, his lips chapped and he was consistently dehydrated, lips flaking off. Bruises sported all over his body, black, blue and some of them yellow or the verge of healing only to be replaced with new ones. He was hooked onto so many machines, couldn’t even eat by himself and everyday was just another arduous task, another onerous day to live, because his body would flare up with hurt until he was breathless. He would scream until he was deaf, because he longed for death, feeling his body crushed underneath the pressure and those would be the days where Lukas would be the most disconsolate, the streams down his eyes as he tried to conciliate his lover’s pain to no avail, because Mathias would crumble under any touch and plead them, beseech them to let him rest.

He was feeling guilt-stricken. He’d brought this upon himself; he’d brought this upon Lukas. He’d allow the Norwegian to sidle so close to him when he should’ve kept him at arm’s length and now the Norwegian only had to plug his ears close when Mathias was on an outbreak of anguish, begging so profoundly, begging to perpetually to be relieved from the pain, enough to make the strangers outside of the room, peek in out of concern, knowing that the pain couldn’t be alleviated.

Tino retrieves the picture and flick it, letting it set before showing it to Mathias who laid on his bed, incapacitated, barely breathing, and his hollow, sunken eyes drifted to the picture, a smile on his face, a very piteous one indeed.

“I look---“ He rasped, his voice coarse. “I look really ugly without my hair haha—“ He gave the other a farcical laughter, however it was easy to fathom how deplorable the blond was about his condition. He detested being in the hospital, unable to stand, let alone feed himself. It was like his life was hanging on a thread growing shorter and shorter every day. Mathias feels Lukas rise from his spot and sit on his bed, his hand running across the other’s forehead, the other’s scalp, his eyebrows that also had started to fall off because of chemotherapy. “I don’t think you’re ugly.” Lukas proclaimed and leaned to kiss his forehead, just mouthing something in Norwegian that he wouldn’t be able to construe.

“You’re just saying that because you love me—Haha” Rebukes the quivery voice that spoke up, feeling to lethargic to insert any more effort than he should.

“That’s true… I’ll always love you.” It hurt really when Lukas would say those words to someone he knew that he was lose, to someone he knew would go away and yet he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t force his feelings to cease because Mathias has been anything but bad to him. He’d become so essential in the other’s life. He’d become his greatest asset and greatest ultimatum, all concocted into the same man.

“I’ll always love you too, Lukas. Forever.”

___

7th month – Epilogue

He felt the winds past his ears like a careless whisper, touching him in such an intimate way, as if he was an albatross ready to spread his wings, soar through the winds, against the tide and yet his vision remained dark. It was late at night and the snow fell against his upright form, hands tucked deeply inside his pocket. Something about this was rather familiar, like he found himself standing in the midst of the grass fields at night with him.

He had passed away a few weeks ago and Lukas would be fraudulent should he profess that he hadn’t felt the anguish, the fury and the frustration that accompanied itself with a screeching shrill as Tino held him down, as his fingers shook and his knees buckled underneath him, how his heart missed so many beats and how he was convinced that his lungs wouldn’t work and that he was a broken contraption. Everything just fell apart; everything was in disarray and Lukas found himself licking his wounds in solitude, feeling his heart separate in fragmentary pieces.

As he readied himself, he cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath, feeling the feeling still asphyxiating him, still an invisible noose hung around his neck because he’d never found himself so besotted with one person in all his life. Then so suddenly as if the cruel God of Fate decided that they weren’t mean for each other, snagged Mathias from his hold and made him feel so empty.

He bends over, picking up the violin that he set on his feet, tucking it in between his head and shoulder and then he begins to pick up a song that sounded to be oddly familiar, the same song that revolved around their meeting, the same song that drew him closer, made him flick a coin and compelled him to pester the Norwegian everday, despite being lashed at or impudently ignored. Maybe if he did, he would be lost in the orchestra of the song and then he would relive that very same day, have another chance to hug him, kiss him, love him and be with him.

At least as he continued to play the song with match avidity, poised in his position and with an emotional tumor growing inside of him, swelling turgid, blocking his air pipes, strangulating him and yet he knew he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the pain that was so bittersweet because he knew that forever was just another life away until he would find himself underneath Mathias’s sight again.

Truly, truly. For someone who had never seen the world—a ray of light, or a loom of shadow—the last 6 months with the man he so dotted had been so beautiful.

End.

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats Lane on your audition for Jesse St. James! Please check out this page for what to do next and send us his blog within 48 hours! Welcome to the group!

OOC Information:

Name/Alias: Lane Preferred Pronoun: She/Her Age: 31 Timezone: EST RP Experience: Years! I’ve been in several D/s RPs in the past (Paradise Pleasure Cove, Cavendish Academy, probably some others I can’t remember now~), and I was the admin of stbrendansacademy before I had to step down due to time constraints. This kind of roleplay is very much my preferred niche. :) Activity Level: Most active on weekdays. Weekends are tougher for me because family. But I’d say a solid 7/10, generally speaking.

IC Information:

Name: Jesse St. James Designation: Switch Age: 21 Faceclaim: Jonathan Groff Birthday: December 21 Orientation: Bisexual

Bio: 

Jesse never knew how he felt about his parents. Yeah, it was cool that they were gay and definitely cool that they were famous, because it put Jesse in the lime light as well. Paparazzi were always following them around and Jesse loved soaking up the attention. It got difficult, however, when he watched his parents fight a system they were never going to win against, and see what all of the opposers said about them. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Jesse cared way too much about what others thought of him. He longed for everyone to think he was amazing and wonderful and he would do anything to be at the top of whatever career he chooses - whenever it was that he did that. He strived to be the best at everything he did and would often do whatever it took to get what he wanted. Sometimes, it makes them come off as arrogant, though he doesn’t let anyone see how vulnerable he truly feels.

Bio Questions:

What is your biggest fear and why?

Being underappreciated, frankly. It’s been.. difficult so far, in my life, to stick out and get the recognition I deserve from people. I mean, have you seen my parents? There’s no chance of getting noticed when they’re around. They’ve always got to be the center of everything and the ones talking the loudest, being the most in the spotlight.. It gets really grating after a while. I would say that the best part about being at the institute so far has just been finally getting out from under their shadow. It’s going to be so much easier for me now.

What 3 objects/places mean the most to you and why?

When I was younger, I really wasn’t into sports (which was fine with my family), but I got extremely into tap. Why are you laughing? Tap dance is very manly. It was the first time I got to be on stage. I’ve still got my first pair of tap shoes. Size six. They’re very worn out. I’m thinking I might have them cast in metal or ceramic and auction them off some day when I’m more well known. The second thing is a little clay figure of the comedy and drama masks I made in school when I was about five. I always knew I was destined for the entertainment industry, even way back then. It’s just my calling. Finally, I’ve got a DVD of my first dance recital. Again, totally auction material in the future. It’s amazing. I was so good for a three year-old. A prodigy, you might say.

Who is the one person you’d most like to meet (dead or alive)?

Julie Andrews. I worship her. I would literally kill someone to meet Julie Andrews, alright? Stop judging me. She’s the queen of Broadway. And pretty much everything else she’s ever done. That’s exactly the kind of success I’m going to have, so you might say she’s been a role model for me.

What is the one moment you would describe as your happiest/most excited?

Getting to go away to school, honestly. My sisters are still here, so I still have to put up with them, but at least I’m away from my dads and their.. ridiculous political stuff. It was always such a downer.

[fireandgloryrpg]

Congratulations Ryan and welcome! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Otis Blanchard with the faceclaim of John Boyega in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

Out of Character Information:

Name: Ryan

Pronouns: Masculine

Age: 22, 04/09/95 (M/D/Y)

Timezone: EST

Activity: 6/10 ; I do not have a job or school currently but am looking for one and will still make time for the RP.

Original Character Application:

Name: Otis Blanchard

Age and Birthday: 22 ; 9/24/95 (M/D/Y)

Faceclaim: John Boyega or Daniel Kaluuya

Heritage: Son of Nemesis

Abilities: Enhanced strength, agility, healing, senses. Being a son of Nemesis, Otis is gifted with an ability that inspires people he speaks with to become more open, honest, and truthful. 

Affiliation: Citizen of New Rome

Headcanons: 

Otis was born with monochromacy. He can only see in black and white. His worldview, however, is very grey (in much the same way true justice is). As an example of this, Otis is a prodigy at chess. When his stepfather taught him to play, Otis refused to play if the pieces were black or white. Instead, they had to be the same color. Therefore each piece needed to be memorized based on location on the board instead of simply a physical aspect, since true war was rarely about “bad or good”, just about two sides battling for their own purpose. Otis’ stepfather never forgot the lesson he learned from his stepson that day, “Know your team for who they are rather than your enemies for what they look like.”

On his 22nd birthday, Otis was given a “blessed” (though Otis swore it was cursed) revolver directly from Nemesis. Nemesis developed a test for her son to teach him what it means to act with justice and retribution. The revolver is loaded with six bullets which are enchanted to fatally wound those who are acting unjust, and will simply pass through those who are acting with justice in their heart. Nemesis leaves it in Otis’ hand to claim one deserving soul with the revolver before emptying the cylinder.

Biography:

Otis was born from Nemesis and a man named Jean-Baptiste Claudier in New Orleans. After discovering his wife, Cezelia, was barren, Jean-Baptiste (a strong believer in New Orleans superstitions) chose to seek out the Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau, to grant him a male child to carry on his family name.          After visiting her at her tomb, Marie Laveau promised him a child if he was willing to reap the consequences. Jean-Baptiste accepts that there will be consequences, and in his desperation is seduced by Marie Laveau. Afterwards, she reveals to him that she is in fact Nemesis, the Goddess of retribution, balance, and justice. She explains to Jean-Baptiste that she will bear a child, and he must take the child to his wife and inform her that he had an affair with the Goddess.          He obeys, and when the child is born he takes him to Cezelia and reveals his affair. In anger and desire to have her own child, she takes Nemesis’ son and leaves. A satyr informs her that he is indeed a child of a Goddess, and that one day he must go to Camp Half-blood in order to protect him from monsters. Becoming a single mother, Cezelia becomes a street worker in downtown New Orleans for an older, cruel pimp. She works for him for four years, before she meets a wealthy man named Davies Blanchard.           Davies invites her to work for him at his estate as a housekeeper, where she can work for room and board. He treats young Otis as his own son, and teaches him at a young age how to speak French and Latin, and is surprised by how quickly he picks up Greek. Otis frequents Davies personal library, and consistently reads advanced books.          Davies finally proposes to Cezelia when Otis is 11, much to the rejection of the Blanchard family. In retaliation, they begin to harass the the new family with death threats. After a portion of Davies’ estate burns down, he relocates his family to the small town of Waverly, Illinois. He opens up a physicians office and Cezelia finds work as a server at a local cafe. Otis starts going to Camp Half-Blood and returns to Waverly every summer, where he assists an elderly librarian.           When Otis is 16, he permanently leaves Camp Half-Blood after news that his adopted father, Davies, had been murdered and their house burnt down by his own brothers when they finally located the interracial family. Otis becomes a full-time librarian as the elderly woman he had been assisting became older and more frail.            Cezelia received a diagnosis for ovarian cancer when Otis was 19 years old, and passed away later that year. No longer able to afford rent, Otis moved in with the elderly librarian in exchange as her caretaker. She passed away shortly before he turned 22, so Otis moved into the library until finding a letter that lead him on a journey to New Orleans to find the a satyr going by the name Rico.           Rico lead Otis to meet his mother, who served New Orleans under the alias of Marie Laveau, who Nemesis reveals to be one of her own children. She offers to make Otis a “Servant of Retribution”, much like Marie, if he passed her test. She gave him a revolver and explained that he had six shots to determine whether someone deserved divine retribution. Each bullet would either pass through someone undeserving of fate, or fatally wound someone deserving of death.          Upon Nemesis leaving her son, Rico informs Otis that there he heard rumors of an open library job in New Rome, where he will find affordable housing and safety from monsters. Otis decides to leave to New Rome to find a new home.

Para Sample: 

        Otis pulled a chair from underneath the shiny, aluminum table, wincing at the metallic screech as the legs dragged against the stone floor of the outdoor cafe. He recalled Cafe Du Monde, one of the most notable restaurants in New Orleans, as being much busier. The cafe sat in the central hub of the heavily touristy French Quarter, just a stones throw from the famously infamous Bourbon Street. Yet, despite it’s popularity, not much of a crowd bustled about on this dreary September day.        “You migh’s well tuck that chair righ'back in, boy. We need be headin’ out ‘fore it gets too late.” The short satyr said, handing Otis a paper box loaded with beignets buried in powdered sugar. The strong-accented creature hobbled off quickly, glancing back at Otis only briefly to ensure his companion followed along.        Otis wasted no time as he kept pace with the smaller, yet remarkably surefooted fellow. As they walked, Otis crammed the french-style donuts into his mouth.        “Rico, where are we going?” Otis asked the satyr.        “De tombs. Specific'ly, ya mom’s.” Rico answered, finally looking up at Otis’ face. “Damn, ya look jus’ like him.”        Otis tripped over his feet with Rico’s last comment. “What do you mean I look like him. My father? I’ve never seen him.”        “Yea, las’ I saw o'him, he were lookin’ for her, too. Walked'im righ’ down dis same path.”        “He was looking for Nemesis?”        “Non ami, Jean-Baptiste was desperate fo’ a chil’ to carry'on his name. He believed in de legends of da Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau, an’ hoped she could grant him a bebe.” Rico explained, slipping further and further into his Cajun dialect.        They duo arrived at the gate of the St. Louis Cemetery a short time after 10:00 PM. The night was dark, and chilly. Surrounded by such deep, dark, and deathly history, Otis felt a tinge of fear. Rico pulled out a key and unlocked the chain at the gate, locking it again after they passed through. Rico lead Otis down a short way before finding the tomb rumored to be the final resting place of Marie Laveau. The son of Nemesis noticed as they arrived that fog seemed to sweep across the dirt and stone, wrapping around crypts, headstones, and tombs like tendrils. Otis looked around, somewhat nervously, before turning to Rico.          “Nemesis was expecting me, right?” Otis asked.          “She is a goddess, boy. She has a flair fo’ de dramatic.” Rico pulled from his pocket what appeared to be the severed leg of a rabbit. He wiped the ‘wet’ end across the tomb wall in the shape of an X, then knocked on the door three times. When nothing happened, Rico reached into his other pocket and pulled out a bag and poured a handful of powder into Otis’ hand.          “Blow dis on de 'X’ I made.” The satyr commanded.          “What is it?”          Rico hesitated before answering, “Gris-gris. Ya don’ wanna know what dat is.”          “I’ll take your word on it.” Otis replied. He blew the dust onto the dark-stained X, where the powder stuck. Suddenly the X turned a foggy grey color, and began to writhe as though it were alive. Dark fog began to pour out of the X like a waterfall, covering the ground like a blanket. Yet, instead of obeying gravity, it spiraled up as though it were a tornado, becoming gradually larger and larger as it picked up speed.         “Should I be worried about this?” Otis asked as calmly as he could, backing away from the obviously potential hazard. Before Rico answered, the tornado stopped spinning entirely and slammed to the ground, filling the air with it’s dense color. As it cleared, a pretty, young, dark woman came into view.         “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Rico. And most definitely a  pleasure to finally meet my son face to face.” Nemesis said, giving them both gentle hugs. She lingered on Otis before pulling away and caressing his face.        “It’s my pleasure, Goddess, to be permitted to meet you.” Otis said, respectfully. “May I ask why I’ve been brought here?”        “Well, child, your 22nd birthday just passed. I wanted to bestow upon you a very, very special gift.” Nemesis said. She wore a long dress that seemed to be made from nothing more than scraps dull-colored cloth sewn together. Despite its simple appearance, she wore the garment beautifully.         “As you know, Marie Laveau is not my true form. I chose to reveal myself as her because she is your half-sister, a daughter of myself. I gave her a doll when she was your age, and asked her to use it to cast judgment on those who deserve it. That doll became known as a voodoo doll.         “I will be offering you a revolver. The revolver will be loaded with six, and only six, bullets in the cylinder. Each bullet has been blessed by myself to reap justice, claiming the soul of whomever requires retribution, and passing through the body of anyone acting selflessly. This gun can not take a life that does not deserve it’s fate, you simply have to choose to pull the trigger.         "I know, son, that this seems cruel, but every life you take in honor of me, your powers may grow, just as your half-sisters powers grew. She became a 'Servant of Retribution’. You may, as well. However, do not dishonor me. Do what must be done. A mile from here, your real father lay happily with his new family. He abandoned you and now you are miserable alone and he is not. A few miles from here lives the Blanchard family. While the brothers who killed your false father and burnt your home rot in prison, the rest of the family lays in their happy, warm beds. You know they are just as guilty as the boys. Only a few streets down, the man who beat your wife and treated her like a common whore continues to berate and bloody women. You can seek revenge for your mother.”         Nemesis handed Otis the revolver carefully. Otis held it up, hands unshaken. He looked Nemesis directly in the eyes, placed the barrel against his temple, and pulled the trigger.         The blast was loud, but Otis did not flinch. Nemesis winced, and Rico jumped. He glanced at a nearby tomb, where the bullet burrowed a deep hole in the cement. Otis smiled wide, glancing at Nemesis. She was less than unenthusiastic.         “You have much to learn, Otis.” She said, before her body dissolved back into fog and dispersed into the atmosphere.        “What de hell were ya thinkin’, boy!” Rico yelled, smacking Otis in the back of the head. “Ya mom wanted to meet ya and ya piss her off.”        “I think I found a paradox. A very beautiful paradox.” Otis grinned from ear to ear.        “There is somethin’ wron’ wit ya.” Rico commented, shaking his head. “I have a queshion fo’ ya. Ya need a place to live.That ain’ a queshion, I know it. Dere is a job opened up fo’ a librarian in New Rome. You can live dere an’ it ain’ too expensive. Ya will be safe from monsters. I can get ya dere. Will ya go?”        Otis only gave it a split second thought. “I have nowhere else to go. Sign me up.”