#any x any rp

[shy-town-art]

Marvel MCU RP Request!

I am rotating through spins faster than the speed of light right now I swear

Hello! It is me again- 🧠🧟Zombie 🧟🧠- looking for people to roleplay some Marvel stuff with!! I am 21 so will only interact with people who are 18+, and I roleplay on Discord so...yeah! I will send that over via DMs hehe.

Please not I am still a university student (lol) so if my responses are sparse...that is why! If I'm gone for over a week you are more than welcome to nudge me :3

I can play (Note: I'm fiending to write some Bucky and maybe some Clint/ Hawkeye):

Bucky

Loki

Pietro

Zemo

Natasha

Hawkeye/ Clint

There are a couple more but for now these are my main muses (or even kins haha).

If you have a canon ship please do let me know this beforehand and I will let you know if I am comfortable with that! Headcanons for the canon characters are also extremely welcome as I have a couple of my own.

I also do OC x OC rps! Or even OC x canon rps if anyone would like that! However, I only do shipping content with the canon characters, OC x canon or OC x OC in terms of romantic/ sexual relationships are limited to my close friends I'm afraid! If you have an oc feel free to literally tell me everything about them, original characters are also my special interest so Imm very curious and excited!!

With that being said I am also looking for friends! I enjoy speaking OOC, making playlists, pinboards, art, fic writing....general yapping! So don't be afraid to get in touch and be silly 😎

I have roleplayed for over a decade. I use past tense, 3rd person and write ~1000 words per response (or around 8-10+ paragraphs if I'm incredibly inspired!) So safe to say I am looking for advanced/ novella roleplayers! I'm NSFW friendly so long as it is consensual and legal (please please please don't be weird...) and I only have one thing that is off limits!

It is a non-negotiable that if you bring up a certain terminal illness that starts with c and rhymes with dancer I will block you- no questions asked.

Feel free to come throw your plots at me! I have a couple of my own to share! Like this post, comment, or even just DM if you'd like and let's get in touch!

Please help I am rotting away for some Marvel content.

[luckyshinyhunter]

🔥🎬2024 has been giving us some amazing animated shows!🎬🔥

[writing-for-life]

Dream’s Therapist Love: Nada

I flick through my session notes (Intake | Insomnia | Nightmares | Emotions | Parents | Siblings) to prepare for today’s session and notice my apprehension and discomfort.

Apprehension because I decided to broach the topic of romantic relationships today, which the client seems to believe are not for him, as previously discussed.

Discomfort because I recall our last session and have a distinct feeling that the client is trying to catch me off guard somehow. He also seems to be convinced he can read my mind, which is obviously delusional.

However, he was very close on each attempt, suggesting high competence in judging emotions and intentions, which I do not see otherwise reflected in his behaviour and outlook.

All things considered, I will need to reassess after today’s session and consider supervision.

I am surprised the client is exactly on time today, and my receptionist leads him in on the dot, throwing me a likewise befuddled glance.

DT: Oh, you are on time today.

Dream (I notice snark): I am never late, am I?

DT: No, but you are usually early.

Dream: I could not fathom what to read today, so I just did not feel like… sitting around.

DT (I feel slightly confused): You come here early so you can read?

Dream: (I notice a sort of hum.)

DT: I won’t hold you back of course. Do you enjoy reading at home?

Dream (He does not reply and throws three books on my desk before he does the same to his backside and the chair. I take a glance and recognise Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. The other two are both by Kazuo Ishiguro: The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go.)

DT (I take note of the general theme of these novels and wonder if I should really look deeper into his relationships, especially of a romantic kind, today. These book choices do not seem arbitrary to me. Then again, I probably shouldn’t start reading into things): These are interesting choices. Would you like to expand on why you relate to them?

Dream: Reading them does not imply relating.

DT: Don’t we read because we wish to relate? Find ourselves in characters? Understand ourselves better? Escape?

Dream (I notice the distinct stare of someone who looks at a woman with two heads): I read stories. Weave them. I am not in them.

DT: That’s not what I said though, is it? (I notice a scowl. ) But let’s entertain that thought for a moment—you could be in a story. Somewhere. In someone’s mind.

Dream (I notice an exasperated-sounding puff of air exiting his nose. He stays otherwise silent.)

DT: You told me in your first session that you struggle to commit to romantic relationships. Can you tell me why?

Dream (I was not entirely prepared for that kind of hostile glare): I do not struggle to commit.

DT: But you said…

Dream: …that I have commitment issues and that love is a quaint human invention like…

DT: … gluten-free pizza or reality TV.

Dream (His mouth hangs open for a split second. When he closes it, he simultaneously narrows his eyes): You finished my sentence.

DT: As you did mine.

Dream: Point taken.

DT: You might recall you told me you can read minds?

Dream (I notice something resembling a half-smile): Ah, but I doubt you can.

DT: No, but I am not too bad at remembering. And educated guessing.

Dream (I notice a slight sigh): Did you really think I was serious when I said love is a quaint human invention resembling… (he gestures aimlessly) tasteless food products?

DT: No. I thought it was a defence mechanism to cover up past hurt (I brace myself for the fallout.)

Dream (What I wasn’t prepared for is that his voice seems to drop half an octave and sounds like… melancholy. There is no other word for it): The truth is that I find myself troubled by… matters of the heart. Love, it seems, eludes me.

DT: Love is complicated for most people, so you’re in good company (I note a certain amount of disbelief in his expression). I am not going to force you to talk about something you don’t want to talk about, but I do think it would help to tell me about your past relationships.

Dream (He stares at my paperweight. Which makes me think that one day, I will need to ask him what’s so special about it, or what it reminds him of. But now is not that time): There was Nada, obviously. (He stops himself and looks at me through his lashes)

DT: Obviously.

Dream: I condemned her to Hell for ten thousand years because she rejected me.

DT (It’s always so hard to tell if he is in the grip of his delusion, or if he is using strange metaphors to make a point. I hesitate for a moment and then decide to give him the benefit of the doubt): That sounds... intense. How did that make you feel?

Dream (I notice his foot is tapping): How did what make me feel?

DT: The rejection.

Dream (I notice his brow is tied up in knots): You are more worried about the rejection than my condemning her to Hell?

DT: I’m not worried about anything. Just more interested in one thing than the other.

Dream: For science? (Is he actually… smiling?)

DT: For science (He is). And to support you in understanding patterns we might unearth, which in turn might help you to understand yourself (The smile disappears and is replaced with 12 minutes of silence while staring out of my window).

Dream: It made me feel… angry. Hurt. Misunderstood (He finally looks at me). Wounded with no way to stop the bleeding.

DT: And did hanging on to that anger and hurt for a long time…

Dream: Ten thousand years.

DT: …and sending her to proverbial Hell…

Dream: Not proverbial.

DT (I’m doing my best to ignore his attempts at throwing me off) …stop the wound from bleeding?

Dream: I guess not.

DT: You guess?

Dream (I notice the eye-roll): Fine. I know it did not.

DT: What did then?

Dream: I do not think it ever will… stop bleeding. I have since freed her, but the guilt remains.

DT: So you feel guilty? About what?

Dream (He sighs, but it sounds angry): Are you truly listening? I feel guilt about sending her to Hell.

DT: I am listening. You made someone’s life hell because they rejected you. It happens.

Dream: But not like this! I… never mind.

DT: I do mind.

Dream: We are talking at cross purposes.

DT: Then explain it to me in a way I can understand. Or tell me if you don’t understand what I’m asking, because that’s on me.

Dream: I am trying, but…

DT (I throw a pencil at him, and he catches it. Good reflexes.) You’re lucky it wasn’t the paperweight you tried to lift the last time.

Dream: Fine. I will explain. (He lowers his voice and looks at the pencil) Lest you continue to impress me with your psychological paperweight-pencil warfare.

DT: Not likely (I will need to get him back on track). Nada. Rejection. Hell.

Dream (He looks at me as if he is gauging something. I have no idea what): When I said I condemned Nada to Hell, I truly meant it. She pursued me. Then she rejected me. Then she did not. For a brief moment (I notice his eyes glazing over, and he seems lost. My instincts tell me he will shake his head like a wet cat in a moment, and he does not disappoint). And after her people died, she killed herself (Shit. I am beginning to think his delusions might have been brought on by trauma, rather than having genetic or biological causes. I scribble “CAPS-5” into my notes)…

DT (I am waiting since I am under the impression he isn’t done. After four minutes, I decide that I was probably wrong. Or maybe not. You sometimes cannot tell with him): I am really sorry for your loss. Do you wish to expand on how losing her made you feel?

Dream: No.

DT (Of course he doesn’t. I also think something isn’t quite adding up): How did you free her? (He just stares at me) You said she died, but you also said you have freed her.

Dream (He stops staring and looks at his hands instead): These things are not mutually exclusive.

DT: Can you elaborate?

Dream (I notice he zones in on the paperweight again): Do you believe in an afterlife?

DT: Does it matter what I believe?

Dream: Yes and no.

DT: Why yes?

Dream: Because your beliefs shape your understanding of the world, and your understanding of the world shapes your beliefs.

DT (Oh, we’re going meta): And why no?

Dream: Because your beliefs are inconsequential to me.

DT: But you are part of this world, aren’t you?

Dream (His eyes look wet. He doesn’t speak.)

DT (Let’s do this, then): No, I don’t believe in an afterlife.

Dream: You just took a risk.

DT: Which is?

Dream: Alienating me.

DT: Did I?

Dream: No. But you might not believe me when I say that I went to Hell to set her free after leaving her there for aeons, or that… (He stops himself.)

DT: I believe that’s what you believe, and I also believe that you both went through hell.

Dream (I notice a weak smile. The extremely weary kind, and it worries me): Isn’t it strange you speak in metaphors while I, for once, do not? (He pauses. For less than a minute). I trust our time is up?

DT (I feared he would say this): Not yet. If you would like to…

Dream: Very well, I shall leave then. (He gets up and takes his books off my desk.)

DT (I have a weird feeling about this and get up from my chair, too): I suggest you schedule a session for tomorrow.

Dream: I do not think that will be necessary.

DT: Then briefly check in tomorrow via phone.

Dream (He narrows his eyes): You are worried about me.

DT: I have protocols in place...

Dream (Strangely, that seems to make him smile): And of course these protocols need to be followed. I understand. About rules.

DT: Then you…

Dream (He interrupts, but he is rather soft spoken): You need not worry about my safety. (The pause feels too long once more) But I thank you. Truly. (The next one seems even longer) I shall see you tomorrow.

DT (I feel relieved but a little nagging voice at the back of my head says I cannot rely on his word alone)

Dream: You can (Is he mind-reading again?) And you should know by now I do not have a tendency to go back on my word.

DT: May I still encourage you to take this? (I hand him my out-of-hours number because I am 100% certain he would not call a crisis hotline.)

Dream (He takes it reluctantly and dips his chin): Is this also… protocol?

DT: In certain cases.

Dream: I will not require to make use of it… If this reassures you.

DT: I’d rather you take it anyway.

Dream (He stares at the card for what seems like ages and doesn’t look at me when he says): Will you… use ink to write down tomorrow’s appointment?

DT: Would you like me to?

Dream (He just nods)…

< Previous Session

[riddle-me-fear]

Soooo Riddler, you speak multiple languages?

Also solltes du das ja verstehen. Falls ja dann sag mir doch auf Deutsch was du an Jonathan so schön und toll findest.

[translation at bottom]

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Ahaha-hmm, natürlich verstehe ich dich. Glücklicherweise kann mein lieber Jonathan uns nicht verstehen, also kann ich deine Frage beantworten. Was ich an ihm so schön und toll finde, hmm...

Er kann wunderbar kochen; ich finde seine Speisen stets höchst deliziös, auch wenn es mir ein Rätsel ist, wie er richtig würzen kann ohne zu kosten, da ihm der Nikotin ja regelrecht den Geschmackssinn ruiniert hat. Auch wenn er manchmal richtig dumm sein kann, ist er doch sehr intelligent, und ich genieße unsere Diskussionen sehr. Ich finde es unglaublich herzig, wenn er sich aufregt, ahahaha!

Körperlich, ich meine, was gibt es nicht zu mögen? Ich fühle mich, wenn es um Männer geht, eher der älteren, erfahrenen Generation hingezogen. Und ja, trotz dass ich ihn oft unsanft ermahne, dass er mehr essen soll, finde ich seinen Körperbau doch sehr attraktiv.

Was er selbst nicht vor anderen zugeben möchte, ist dass er doch sehr sanft sein kann, wenn er will. Er wird zwar nicht zu einer komplett anderen Person wenn wir alleine sind, aber ist mir gegenüber, mittlerweile, um einiges authentischer geworden, und umgekehrt genauso.

Ach ja, ich denke unsere Aktivitäten im Schlafzimmer muss ich wohl kaum ansprechen. Ich möchte nur dazu sagen, dass er der Beste ist, den ich jemals hatte.

Ich denke aber das, was ich am meisten an ihm schätze, ist sein Verständnis. Er toleriert und akzeptiert... nun ja, alles an mir, auch wenn es nicht den Anschein hat. Er hilft mir meine Ängste zu bezwingen, was - ahahah! - doch regelrecht peinlich wäre, wenn jemand der sich so intensiv mit Angst beschäftigt, das nicht hinbekommen würde. Er würde es sich nie anmerken lassen, doch er ist ein sehr einfühlsamer Mensch... Er... Ich weiß nicht... Er macht mich einfach... glücklich.

Ed gazes lovingly at his partner next to him, getting lost in his eyes for a moment. Jon, on the other hand gives him a mildly annoyed look, as usual.

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

Lemme guess. Ye'r naht gonna translate tha question, or ANYTHIN' ya just said.

Ed returns to his sassy attitude with a grin.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Nnnope!

Jonathan Crane | The Scarecrow

I fuckin' hate'chu so much.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

Love you too, pumpkin. 💚

----

Translation:

Question: So Riddler, you speak multiple languages? Then you should be able to understand this. If yes, tell me in German what you think is so nice and great about Jonathan.

Edward's answer:

[I took the liberty to change the wording of a couple things to basically mean the same thing even if it's not the exact translation. As with most languages, how you say things in German isn't how you'd say it in English. Especially not how Edward would word things, anyway.]

Ahaha-hmm, of course I understand you. Fortunately, my dear Jonathan can't understand us, thus, I can answer your question. What I think is so nice and great about him, hmm...

He's a wonderful cook; I find that his meals are always highly delicious, even if it leaves me puzzled, how he's able to apply correct seasoning without tasting for himself, since the nicotine downright ruined his sense of taste. Even if he can sometimes be quite dumb, he is still very intelligent, and I very much enjoy our discussions. I find that it's incredibly adorable when he gets upset, ahahaha!

Physically, I mean, what's not to like? When it comes to men, I feel rather attracted to the older, more experienced generation. And yes, despite me often harshly admonishing him that he should eat more, I still find his body build quite attractive.

What he'd never admit himself in front of others, is that he certainly can be quite gentle, when he wants to. Now, he doesn't turn into a completely different person when we are alone, but he's since become much more authentic towards me, and vice versa.

Oh, and I think I'll hardly have to mention our activities in the bedroom. To that, I'd just like to add that he's the best I've ever had.

But I think that which I appreciate most about him is his understanding. He tolerates and accepts... well, everything about me, even if it doesn't seem apparent. He helps me with conquering my fears, which - ahahaha! - would be downright embarrassing if someone, who studies fear so intensively, wouldn't be able to manage that. He'd never let it show, but he's a very empathetic person. He... I don't know... He simply makes me... happy.

[glorifiedstreetmagician]

To My Dearest

Three letters from Haku Kusanagi to Zenji Kotodama that he did not send and one that he did. Thank you @danieyells for the inspiration. This is dedicated to @zenji-kotodama-official, for hopefully obvious reasons.

[unsent]

Zenji,

This is the sort of thing you would do. But now I find myself sitting at my desk, the weight of the time spent apart hanging over me like an axe about to drop, and I'm writing a letter you'll probably never see. I'm pretending to write to you anyway. Rui said it might help me figure my feelings out if I wrote them down like this, but after ten of these already I'm starting to think I'm doing this just because it feels like the only way I can speak my mind to you while you're not here.

It reminds me of the time I found a poem left on your desk when you weren't there. You wrote of a ghost of a poet and an heir to a shrine. I didn't read it all—I won't pretend to have had the patience or the nerve to try at the time—but I still think about it. You were trying to tell me something and I wish I knew what.

I shouldn't have told you what I did, that I wished I had kissed you when I had the chance. I should have said that I'd still try. You still reach for the people around you with such reckless love, like that time you moved for my hand and fell through your own bed. Your embarrassment was priceless. Oddly beautiful, too. And if you'd let me try to embarrass myself, just once, I'd try to kiss you, ghostly air and all.

It's shameful. Sometimes I lay awake at night, curled up on my side and staring at my door, asking myself what I did wrong. But I know I've done plenty wrong. Even so, I wish you'd just talk to me. I miss you. I hate that I miss you.

You're so annoying, but why did I have to get used to your annoyingness? Why do I miss it? Why do I yearn for just one more obnoxiously loud song, one more melancholic poem, one more masterpiece played on your biwa with your imperious voice demanding I record?

I hate you. I hate you for making me cry. I hate you for being gone. I hate you for not talking to me. I hate you for your silence more than your noise ever annoyed me. Please come back. Please be silent somewhere I can see you again. Just please come back. Come back and be your annoying self and I won't complain again. I won't roll my eyes. I won't tease. Just come back to me, Zenji.

Why do you avoid me? Is it so terrible if I want you, alive or dead? Is there really no other way for us to have our happily ever after? Is there a reason you won't try with me?

Haku

[unsent]

Dear Taro,

Do you remember the day we first met? It was the start of second year for us both, though I didn't really know you until I first stepped foot into Hotarubi, my new dorm at the time. To be honest, I don't really know why I chose it when I'd hardly spent any time there before I left Frostheim. I guess it just reminded me of home.

That first day though, it didn't feel exactly like home. It felt a bit like betrayal when I walked in, knowing who I'd left behind. I was quiet, and then there you were. An explosion of colour and fabric, pale skin glowing even in the dim mists of Hotarubi, and I could swear your eyes sparkled. You were all smiles and friendly chatter, welcoming me like I was just some childhood buddy you hadn't seen for a long time. You didn't even know me.

And you wouldn't leave my side. You said "hi" to at least a dozen people on the way to showing me my room, but stuck by me. At mealtimes, you were there. In the evening, you walked me back to my room even when I said I remembered the way. You did the same the day after that and the day after that and, seemingly, almost every single day forward. I'm not sure you knew it, but you made those first months bearable for me. I'm not sure I ever thanked you for that.

I've always been ungrateful when it comes to you. For your life, your company, and your smile.

What I'd give to see your smile again.

Sorrowfully, Haku

[unsent]

Dearest Taro,

I see the way she looks at you. I see the way you look at her. I've never been a jealous man. At least, not until now. She brings so much more life to you, and for someone always on my case for flirting, you certainly charm the hell out of her.

We talk now, but it doesn't feel the same as before the ball. I wish we'd never gone. I wish I hadn't asked you to dance. I'd undo it all if it meant you wouldn't keep averting your gaze from me when I'm in the room.

What does an honor student have that I don't? Why will you entertain her and not me?

How much longer will this go on?

Yours, Haku

[the downturned card]

Haku didn't show up to the wedding. How could he go on pretending to be perfectly serene and happy, seeing two of his friends get what they always deserved and he selfishly wished against?

The closest he made it was a short distance from the reception, under the shade of a tree grown into the form of a bench. It was wrapped in white and soft indigo ribbons, purple roses tucked among them. That was where he left his folded-up letter.

He glimpses Zenji in the distance, dressed down for this part after the ceremony, considering it was only for close friends. Who would have thought that all the ghouls would not only help lift not just a curse, but a spirit from the dead to allow this newlywed couple to stand here today? Zenji moved and interacted with the world with so much grace and enthusiasm. Every step, every wave of his hand, every turn of his head filled Haku with a love so deep and aching that it hurt.

Love. He had fallen in love with his old friend. It was a terrifying, tragic feeling.

If not for the pain, Haku wouldn't have had the means to walk away, leaving the letter in the tree for Zenji to find if he went looking.

To My Dearest,

There's a poem I've been thinking about. A few lines specifically:

Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like / everything's okay, / a feeling that lasts for one song maybe, / the parentheses all clicking shut behind you... I sleep. I dream. I make up things / that I would never say. I say them very quietly.

Sometimes it's easier to use a poet's words when I'm lost for ways to articulate just how I'm feeling. The full poem is more hopeful, but I keep coming back to these lines. It's like he knew, somehow. Precisely how to describe the way grief feels, where you stand in one place but time moves on anyway. Contentment is fleeting, the situation is final, and I betray my own healing by whispering all the words I wish I had said long ago and clinging to them like they might impossibly change the present.

I fear I have become the ghost in bringing you back. I'm stuck somewhere between that night and all the nights after where something got lost in translation.

You deserve this happy life. I'm writing this letter to say goodbye. I have always been a selfish, selfish man. I can't watch you love someone else anymore and live the life with her that I wanted with you.

I'm sorry, Taro. I'm so sorry I never did anything right by you.

Yours, still, Haku

[the upright card]

Haku went through the motions of the day in a kind of stupor. A few years ago, if you told him that he was going to get married one day, he'd laugh self-deprecatingly and ask if you were planning to propose to say such a thing. If you told him he was going to marry Zenji Kotodama—to him, Taro Kirisaki—he would blankly demand what gave you that ridiculous idea, arms crossed and unimpressed.

Currently, his arms are draped over Zenji's shoulders as they slow dance in an empty garden party. All the guests had left. Soon, Haku was going to clean up before he and Zenji collected their bags to board the late train. But right now, he's content just dancing to a song Zenji hummed sweetly in the quiet.

The moment feels so surreal. Zenji's buzzing solidness after years of growing stronger, the rise and fall of his chest so close to true breathing, the fact that they could still hold each other even while one remained a ghost. But the sound of his voice remains the same as always.

"You seem lost in thought, my dear." Zenji's ruby eyes glitter with gentle affection as he observes Haku. "Will you tell me about it?"

"It's nothing," Haku says, only for the rest of his excuses to melt away at a kiss to his forehead. It feels as real as anything.

"Tell me anyway," Zenji replies once he pulls away, smiling encouragingly.

Sighing, Haku glances off to the side at the curved tree. "It's... not something I can say aloud right now."

"But we are alone!" Zenji says, incredulous.

And Haku finds himself chuckling. "Yes. I know. But it's because it's for you that I'm struggling to say it." They stop dancing and, with a tremoring hand, Haku draws a folded piece of paper from a pocket in his coat. "Here. Read this, please. I should start cleaning, or we'll never make it to that train."

"But these are not your vows from earlier?"

"No," Haku says, wandering off to start collecting glasses to take inside. "Just read it and you'll see!" he calls back before leaving.

To My Dearest,

While I like poetry, I've never been all that good at it. I've written this letter probably a dozen times already, trying to quote every Romantic poet you could name. And many of them, I find, are so sad in their works. It just wouldn't do because I find myself so incredibly happy.

I'm writing this version the night before our wedding. You're asleep in the next room over (I know this because I can hear you snoring) and the moon is bright. I have the window open and the breeze is so nice, even if it's also messing with the paper right now.

You know by now that I'm stalling. You've always known me better than anyone else, particularly my own family. And while you've felt like family for a long time now, I can't believe I'm—and yet I look forward to—officially making you mine tomorrow.

You don't know it, but I've been writing letters to you for years. It started in our third year at Darkwick Academy, when I thought I had ruined our friendship for good. Ruined any kind of relationship we might have had. I wrote to you almost every day for a month, and then I continued to write after, but I never sent anything. You know me, after all. I couldn't be openly honest if my life depended on it.

Keats wrote once about the harmony in silence—or something close to that. After years of writing to you what I cannot say, I think I've finally reached that harmony. In my silent missives, I've found a new appreciation for your endless songs. I want you to sing until I go deaf. I want to love you until the end of my life, and then even after.

I used to scorn fairy tales. They weren't real. I had experienced the real world with all its unfit couples, doomed lovers, and sex addicts. I thought that was all there is. You may remember that there was a time I never thought I'd marry, simply because I didn't think a happy marriage was possible. But I want to make a promise to you, Taro. The vows I read out tomorrow are for everyone else. But this promise is for you only, in the beautiful simplicity of silence as you read.

While it is within my power, I am making this our happily ever after, my dearest. I owe it to the both of us to believe in fairy tales again. And I promise you that in this one, the moon and the fisherman can devote themselves to one another, the heir to the shrine can know of the ghost's love, and the beast can marry the princess.

We will have bad days. Someday I might find I grow tired of noise again. You might detest my criticisms. But I promise to never forget the love that's bound us through life and death. If you ever fear that I will, come to me with this letter and we will read it again together until we both remember our happily ever after.

I'm going to marry you tomorrow. You'll see.

With love, forever yours, Haku

[ahollowgrave]

I've never done OCxKiss but I had so much fun seeing people do it last year!! Doing these mistletoe kisses though is kind of depleting my posing bar but also it's not until February anyway but also maybe I'll do febhyurary if that is happening this year but also I could probably manage a few oc smooches but also who and how would I ask??

Is it like asking people to prom? Do I do a promposal?

(jokes i will just ask for bones if i plan to do it.... but also.... promposal to ask my friends for their ocs for smooching..... would be... very cute....)

[artofdeductionbysholmes]

Ever thought about whether it’ll be Watson-Holmes or Holmes-Watson when you and John get married?

Did I miss something? John and I don't get married.

[garden0fpoison]

A fluffy black cat with an upturned white crescent patch on her forehead steps out of Sam’s shadow.

She quietly sits down not even her collar jingling as she holds her head high and displays the envelope held in her mouth.

- Sam tilted her head curiously, kneeling down to see the cat -

Hello there little one, what do we have here?

[eliseliedl]

Divinity Original Sin II 42 / ?

[shy-town-art]

💞✨OC X OC RP!✨💞

🧠🧟‍♂️My name is Connor (He/They/It) and I'm 21 from the UK! 🧟‍♂️🧠

After spending some time getting back into fandom rps, I'm looking for some fandomless rp partners! After a traumatic breakup this past year I'm trying to test the waters in getting more comfortable sharing my OCs with the world again.

A heads up that I will only interact with people who are 18+!

Couple notes of interest:

I have roleplayed for over a decade. I use past tense, 3rd person and write ~1000 words per response (or around 8-10 paragraphs if I'm incredibly inspired!) Please try to match me.

I am open to any and all genres/ tropes/ plots from gore and angst to NSFW and fluff, any pairings (including polycule)...essentially come to me with whatever you have in mind and we'll make it work! One note is that I am asexual and so would not want the plot to be solely NSFW based- but I am kink friendly (within reason). I have my own plots to share over message too!

I am an artist and so I draw my OCs! I don't have any realistic faceclaims/ etc to share but I can always send my art alongside a description of them. I also have artfight which has a lot more detail about some of my OCs, which I can send over too. If you have faceclaims/ drawings/ etc feel free to send them too, HOWEVER I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY AI ART.

I roleplay on Discord! I will send my info over once we get in touch.

OCs are my special interest and so I really enjoy making art, pinboards, playlist, literally anything oc related I heavily enjoy doing!

I am a university student and so my responses may be limited. Please do not spam me, if after a week I have not responded please feel free to send me a follow up message.

I would also like to make friends OOC, so expect me to chat outside of roleplays!

I do have a trigger word- it's vital that a certain terminal illness that starts with c and rhymes with dancer is not mentioned under any circumstances. You will be block with no further communication.

I think that's everything- again I'm more than happy to explore things via DMs! Like this post, comment or shoot me a DM if you're interested!

[nrc-asteryn-crew]

ME WHEN I OPEN MY GL2 STUDIO MODE AND I SEE THIS I FORGOT I WAS MAKING ANGST FOR A HOT SEC 😭😭😭

- Aue

[voxasks]

( RP MLIST. THIS IS PART 11! ) @hhactorauofficial NEW PART BABE <3

vox’s hand reached up to alastor’s wrist by instinct, the one holding up his collar like he was the tightrope between his flight or fall.

it was easy to compare his touch from that point—his hands were quivering and alastor’s was as still as a statue’s. the bar music might have been loud but at this point, it was all drowned out by vox’s on and off glitching. neon blue, green, and red had already appeared on his screen once, even if je’d somehow managed to keep his sparks at bay. the last thing he wanted—scratch that, he’d never want to electrocute alastor and he’s doing everything in his power to stop that from happening.

his slipping fingers clung to alastor’s wrist again, trying to hold on like he was at the edge of a cliff. vox gulped.

“haha … don’t do this to me, a̶ - a̶l̶ …”

vox’s throat ran dry. his speech had become almost unintelligible like he had bad connection. his lips remained parted, as if vacant for something else—but alastor was his friend! his very good friend from seven years ago. they went to bars together, played piano together, danced, sung together, all in the good nature of being friends.

so why was it suddenly so hot in here?

he wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking alastor not to do, but for some reason it was the only words he could make out.

there’s something else at the back of his throat, or perhaps at the back of his head, some sort of monstrous, alcoholic mix in between—that was drudging through all barriers he’d set up for himself. he knew the shape of it, the sound of it, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. not when it would ruin everything. not when even he was unsure about it himself.

his eyes finally found the strength to zip down to his turtleneck.

oh, fuck, it just had to hug his figure perfectly didn’t it?

vox’s hand slid down to his forearm before his eyes zipped back to alastor’s own.

alastor was unreadable. he always was. nothing else could be peered through from behind his eyes—but all vox knew was that it was causing his systems to overheat.

vox’s vision was now clipping in and out of existence—pitch black, alastor’s eyes—the cycle flickered and repeated in both eyes, and his efforts to slow his racing heart proved futile.

his lips finally moved from their stale, cold state again, and with the last of his strength he muttered,

“y̶o̶ - u̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ - o̶u̶l̶d̶ - n̶’t̶ l̶ - l e̶t̶ - m̶e̶ …”

“would you?”

that last part of his sentence was the only one that rang clear as day, the rest of it falling to bits to his glitching systems.

ah, alastor, ever the charmer. as if vox wasn’t aware of this even back then. i mean, he plays piano and dances to jazz. it wasn’t rocket science—but that didn’t make this any easier for vox.

[mylunaris]

The Emperor's Game

At one point, boredom was the last thing on her mind. The idea seemed so far. Her life consisted of a never-ending cycle of training, a pitiful allotment of food, and a perpetual state of vigilance and drowsiness. She was only able to find comfort in the relationships she had developed with other slaves, which restored her humanity. Under the midday sun, the Imperial Palace glittered with gold and marble, but Aeliana did not find solace in its splendour. From the bloody sands of the arena to the gleaming halls of Rome, every stride she made through the corridors of authority served as a reminder of how far she had come. She felt the eyes on her before she saw him.

“Lady Callista,” came the smooth, practiced voice. It was laced with amusement, the kind that sent shivers down her spine. Aeliana knew that voice more than she knew any others, it was prominent in the Palace, though measured.

She turned, her movements measured, only to find Emperor Geta lounging against a column, as if he had all the time in the world. His golden tunic shimmered faintly in the light, emphasizing the sharp lines of his jaw and the short curls that framed his face. He looked every bit the young emperor—untouchable, arrogant, and entirely too aware of his appeal.

“Emperor,” she replied, bowing her head slightly. Her voice was steady, but the heat in her chest was harder to ignore. His presence always did this—set her on edge in a way no blade ever could.

Geta pushed off the column with an easy grace, closing the distance between them. “You’ve been avoiding me, Aeliana,” he said, his tone teasing but edged with something darker. “Am I such a frightful ruler?”

“I have been busy,” she replied coolly. “Your orders take precedence over idle conversation.”

“Ah, but what if I enjoy your conversation?” He stepped closer, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Well, in fact— Do you think I’ve summoned you just to talk?”

Aeliana’s heart raced, but she kept her composure. She was no simpering courtesan, and Geta, for all his charm, was still a man. She met his gaze head-on, her green eyes narrowing. “If that’s the case, Caesar, you’ll need to be more specific with your intentions.”

His smile deepened, a predator recognizing its equal. “Specific, you say?” he mused, his voice dropping low. “What would you do if I told you I wanted something... unconventional? Something that required absolute discretion?”

“Then I’d remind you that my loyalty is to the empire,” she said sharply, though her pulse betrayed her calm exterior. “Not to the whims of a man.”

Geta laughed softly, the sound rich and unguarded. “You wound me, Aeliana. But I admire your resolve.” He stepped even closer, his hand brushing hers as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t crumble in my presence.”

Aeliana stiffened, though she didn’t pull away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Perhaps you should surround yourself with stronger company, then.”

His lips curved into a smirk, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. It was intoxicating and maddening, the unacknowledged dance they both seemed unwilling to end.

“You intrigue me,” he murmured finally, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze again. “But intrigue is dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Only if one forgets their place,” she countered, her voice firm.

Geta studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers for something unspoken. Then he stepped away, the intensity of his presence lifting like a weight.

“Very well,” he said lightly, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “I’ll let you return to your duties, Lady Callista. But don’t think for a moment that I’m done with you.”

Aeliana waited until he disappeared down the corridor before releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the erratic beat of her heart. Dangerous didn’t begin to describe the game they were playing. But for the first time in years, she found herself wondering if danger was something she craved.

With a shake of her head, she composed herself and strode toward her next task. Whatever game Geta thought he was playing, she’d make sure she came out on top.

[wingsofsteel-azrael]

You and Florian 😨😨 gay gay gay gay gay

“Assuming Florian was the florist, no. Not for each other. It was one interaction. You need to relax.”

[ask-jiro-kirisaki]

With the holiday fast approaching, Jiro takes a late night to create various confections for the students of Mortkranken. He wouldn't be able to participate in any large gatherings, so he decided to leave these out in the common area to show his appreciation for their hard work. It wasn't as if he'd be alone though. He had friends to visit in the coming days, opting for a more one-on-one approach where he could to avoid potential illness. Following tradition though, Christmas Eve was reserved for a partner. He would spend the evening (and late into the night) spoiling his partner in any way that he was able. On Christmas Day, he allows himself to rest - save from taking care of some necessary daily tasks in the office/lab. And if said partner didn't have any plans, Jiro would welcome their company.

[sevspins]

rp partners wanted!!!

hi!! i’m seven ( sev ), im 18 years old and i’m searching for some rp partners…dm me if you’re interested!

fandoms: x men, marvel, stranger things, the last of us, horror ( scream, IT, X trilogy, chucky etc etc. )

will not RP with anyone below 16

no nsfw

i’m most experienced in x men rp and i’m fine being any role as long as the story is intriguing

be invested !!! actually get excited to plot, make playlists if u want, pinterest boards etc.

fine playing multiple characters if necessary

very oc friendly

i RP on discord and use TupperBox for character profiles!

if you’re interested you can rely to this or just dm me!