#someone please take adoni from beloved king away from me

[hollenka99]

Tonight has just been

Youtube: Hey, wanna randomly stumble across a song about a member of a ruling class family and a god's favourite commoner-turned-future-monarch falling for each other?

Me: I'm rotating those ocs in my head already.

[aliypop]

It’s All Greek To Me 2

wordcount: 1,524

Warning: None

A/N: NEW CHARACTERS

"She's hurt..." Sif looked at Thor, looking over the features of the young woman. She was pale with dark brown hair, Greek and Roman face structure, a marking on her wrist, and a necklace of Egyptian gold around her neck. "See to it that she's well." Thor smirked as Sif blushed at the unconscious woman, "Thor, I don't understand what you..." she groaned, seeing that the God was gone. 

"This is Asgard..." Adonis gasped, his eyes focused on all the golden fixtures and deities who passed by now and then. "It's close to Valhalla, so the Aesir take pride in it." Aron laughed. As they walked through the crowded city, maneuvering through people, they could hear the distant voice of Hermod. "Hear me well, Aesir's!" as he then saw Aron, "And Vanir..." Adonis looking at him as he looked similar to Apollo, which was odd considering that he, for the longest time, thought that the mere concept of higher deities existing were merely just fairytales parents told their children to never worry.

" Asgard will finally have his king!" Hermod smiled as another God whispered in his ear, "We will have two kings... One from Midgard and a Vanir queen..." Aron chuckled as Adonis stood in confusion, "My sister and her two lovers are to rule, to translate the situation."  Back in the palace stood Astrid studying spell books left by Frigga, her emerald ring glistening under the nightfall stars as the sound of wind blew by her ears, causing her to shiver. As her amulet sparkled, she flicked her wrist, pinning what she hoped to be her opponent down.  "Someones, been practicing their spells..."

"Mother..." she kept reading, "What are you doing visiting from Vahalla?"  her tone still cold towards the woman, "I heard the news," Amidala broke from the grasp of the spell. "Isabasia, Thor, and Stark are ruling as Asgard."  she sighed, "It was bound to happen. " she laughed, 

"Just as you dying and I never getting a throne, but..." 

"Astrid, you're the next ruler of Vanaheim." Astrid dropped the book as her body nearly froze, 

"I've watched you conduct yourself at the realm gatherings, and it's time I gave you credit." she sighed,

"Oh my, the woman with so little faith waits until death to appoint her daughter, which she lied to about nearly EVERYTHING!"

"And I am sorry..." Amidala sighed, "I should have trusted you more than I should have-"

"Listened to me, never locked me away in a tower, never lied about me being the oldest, protected Aron, and never sent Isabasia away!" her eyes violet. 

"I shouldn't have... and I am sorry." Amidala approached her daughter for a hug. Astrid sighed, taking in her mother's scent of roses, 

"Tell Loki Odin sends his best wishes as ruler of Jotunheim." disappearing into the Bifrost back, Astrid watched in disbelief at the news. 

"Astrid... are you alright..." 

"You're a king..."  

"Who are you... and why am I here..." the warrior woman asked, her sword drawn at Sif's neck, watching as she flipped it out of her hand, "Lady Sif of the warriors 3, you were wounded." she smiled, "Your turn."  the young mortal smirked, "Ethereal you are... I am Katina Fausta of Athens, protector to Andonis, faithful servant of Athena and lover of women." she winked watching as Sif's face began to flush,

 "And my has Saphos and Aphrodite blessed you so,"  Katina remarked, watching the other warrior falter for words, "Do you drink?" 

"Is Dionysus a party God?" 

"I'll take that as a yes." 

The Taverns of Asgard were cozy with a fireplace Gods and Goddesses and people alike all enjoying mead and ale feast fit for kings with the view of New Asgard, some areas still being built others held together by magic. 

"So, have you enjoyed your stay in Vanaheim..." Aron asked, waving his hand around ordering two drinks, "That I have." Adonis smiled back at the prince, kissing his hand, "Your people have been ever so kind." he laughed, his Greek features soft under the flames that lit the path. "Are yours not so kind," Aron asked, holding onto his hand.

 " it's complicated... my father wants me to be this warrior and this king, and my mother is this gentlewoman, and my rightful mother is a Goddess, so I don't know who I'm supposed to be. Adonis sighed, looking away from Aron, his eyes falling upon a warrior woman drinking what seemed to be her troubles. 

"Oh great..."  Aron groaned. A tight pain in his heart formed as the memories of the pair began to flood, "Is everything alright." Adonis asked, his deep voice bringing the Vanir back to reality, "Oh, just my ex... Valkyrie." he laughed, "Who broke my heart..." he nearly chugged down his goblet of mead. "Sounds lovely... excuse me for a moment." Adonis got up, making his way towards the infamous Valkyrie hiding behind a wooden pillar that was until he heard the voice of,

 "Katina Fausta of Athens..." she walked towards Valkyrie, dressed in Asgardian leather. "May I buy you a drink." her voice smooth like silk, "I don't know, how many are you willing to buy," Valkyrie asked, eyeing the foreigner, 

"Enough to get a taste of this Valhalla everyone speaks of."   

"Deal, but only if Sif joins." she gestured the warrior over as Katina nodded, "Three is but a party and close to an orgy," she smirked, wrapping her arms around both their waist. Adonis waited at the perfect moment to attack, hands reaching out two blades pointed at his neck. 

"He means us no harm." Katina smiled, "He is but my friend." she stood up to hug him. Both Valkyrie and Sif nodded at the man as the two went back to their drinks. "Excuse us for a moment..." Adonis said, ushering Katina away. Dolding two cups of ale in hand, Katina kept her eyes focused on Adonis, 

"Why are you here..."

"Why are you here?" Katina smirked, her eyes on the prince, "Did you chase another pretty woman as she tricked you and sent you here or..." she looked over his shoulder as she noticed a handsome young man waving at her friend, 

"Oh, I see..." 

"You see absolutely nothing." he blushed, "I won't tell if you don't tell." she patted him on the back, "Does Artemis know about this..." he stiffened up, 

"You knew about that..." 

"I'm a servant of Athena. I know everything..." she winked, fixing her sword on her hip holster. "Then does your mother know about them..." he asked back as Katina stood there in silence. She knew her mother was a traditionalist when it came to weakness, and her love of women she hated it, but on Asgard, it was as if they were praised for being a warrior with flaws and a sharp tongue. 

"No, and I hope that she'll never find out Tripolakis..." she huffed, "Now, if you'll excuse me... I should head back." she sighed, sitting between her newfound lovers. 

"Perhaps we should see the palace." Adonis whispered in Aron's ear as Aron laughed, "And still have no peace from my sisters and their betrothed. " Adonis shrugged, " I don't mind an audience." he laughed, hearing Aron sigh, "Not like that, Adonis... " 

"Darling... please try to slow down.'' Loki sighed, kissing his beloved Astrids hand. "My mother told me to tell you that Odin well wishes you luck as king of the Jotuns."  she looked up at him, sitting in between his legs, as he chuckled, "And only moments away from our wedding." he laughed, "I've ahold to my birthright.'' he kissed her cheek as Astrid laughed, "I'm the next queen of Vanahiem... I'm the next queen..." Astrid gulped as feminine hands rubbed her own, "You'll be devilishly good at it." she whispered in Astrid's ears. Loki watched as the blood rushed to her cheeks,

 "You rule my heart. surely you can rule a kingdom." She smiled, her long black hair draping over Astrids,  "Brother- Sister, we have company." Thor barged in as Loki glared, "Must you not know what knocking is..." she grumbled, using her magic to conjure up both Astrid and her a more presentable wardrobe of outfits.  Thor sighed, sitting on his fathers' throne, the memory of him still there.  "I see you are better." he smiled as Katina nodded, "Sif took care of me well." she smiled, as Adonis laughed, "She took care of Sif too... And your Valkyrie," he mumbled under his breath as Isabasia fumbled refraining from laughter.  Katina then smirked as her eyes reached the view of the Goddess in green accompanied by who she thought was perhaps a friend. 

"Aren't you beautiful..." she covered her mouth, as Loki chuckled at the young woman's words, "You are a pure vision of lust and beauty." she kissed her hand as Loki looked at Thor annoyingly, 

"My pet, as much as this flatters me... My beloved would have you beheaded." She smiled as Adonis pulled Katina away, "Your lover, well, he  sounds toxic..."

"Oh, I'm the absolute same for her," Loki smirked, transforming back as he pulled Astrid closer. 

"Oh, a shapeshifter..." Katina smiled,

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KAT! You’ve been accepted for the role of PUCK. Admin Rosey: There's nothing that thrives more in Verona than chaos and Kat, that's exactly what you brought us - a character that exudes nothing but pure and utter chaos. Your para sample highlights perfectly the best and worst of our beloved Puck and his unapologetic satisfaction in being the best at being the absolute worst. Verona has endured many things but it has yet to endure Puck - and honestly I'm not entirely sure it will. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Kat Age | 24 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | I think I’ll be able to get on quite a bit! At least two or three times a week, but likely more! Ya girl dropped a whole job ya YEET Timezone | EST How did you find the rp? | I originally came across it in the lsrpg tag, also I miss y’all :( Current/Past RP Accounts | These are links to inactive past accounts! https://neosy.tumblr.com/ https://grchcmisms.tumblr.com/ https://99gael.tumblr.com/ https://halogenq.tumblr.com/ https://odinbellc.tumblr.com/ ;)

In Character

Character | Puck, Pavel Lam

What drew you to this character? | beautiful chaos and twisted humor, a spring in the step of a child-like demon, all soft face and sharp features. they live life as if there are a lack of consequences, laughing in the face of harbored restrictions and societal rules. they swindle, steal, and slice, color the world with trickery and a wicked grin. they’re absolutely flavorful, chocolate cake with bitter, poison icing, long sticks of candy cane that are licked too sharply pointed.

similar to the likeness of peter pan, of trickster gods, and all devil-may-care figures. he is forever a boy, but parading as a man, selfish and big-headed. i see potential dripping from the deepest of crevices, his heart burrowed in armoured steel, tasteless victory.

what draws me to pavel lam? sweet, sweet chaos fed to me like grapes from adonis himself. let me unleash the beast of my writing in all its absolute, unruly nature. let me shatter glasses of whiskey by chucking them towards my fireplace as i express all the ways he can shred plans like priceless documents. i crave blood-stained teeth and busted knuckles, the dance of a jester as he makes away with all the kings gold. the clanking of chains and countless rings adorning fingers, gluttony and swallowed sanity. dear god, what doesn’t draw me to this character?

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. pride he shrugs, his silhouette not at all coy nor a picture of interest, but on the other side of a turned back there are gritted teeth and balled fists. he supposes it’s the curse of a person forced to work for their success, scramble and claw for riches. nothing tears him apart like a lack of respect, ironic and hypocritical from someone who can’t recall the definition of the word most days. he cannot stand being discounted, or ignored, more likely to smile at a drink thrown in his face than a turned back. his pride will eat him alive if he lets it, will consume him whole without mercy, and he cannot let them know how much it bothers him. he keeps secrets and lets blood pool his mouth from having his teeth sunk too harshly into his tongue. he can only clench his jaw so tight before something begins to splinter, a comment or a jest just an inch too far, just a little too close to home and something is bound to snap; an aging dam that still struggles against the weight of its burden.

tread lightly, or beware of the snakes in the long grass.

ii. greed it’s never enough, not all the riches in the world, not the most dangerous task nor highest penthouse. they can’t be sated by grandiose or any price tag, though such things are very well accepted and stolen. he will take all that is offered and more, refusing to reject any task that seems of interest, anything that feels as if others would turn it down out of fear or otherwise. these are the things that get people killed, and still he only laughs, the sight of his own blood lighting mirth and distaste. he feels no pity for himself, no self-preservation active in his mind or body. it’s only a matter of time before he finds himself in a situation that he even his wit and silver tongue cannot get him out of. danger signs do not flash so brightly to him, the dense fog filling the road in a blind search for glory and gore, his fingers grasp in the darkness and he plays it all as a game.

once and awhile, headlights cut through the mist in a warning.

iii. shame at night his muscles twitch and ache in sync with the pain in his chest, stood in his bathroom mirror with smudged glamour and horrid eyes – hurt, and disdain for his hurt. who is this person in the reflection? weak, and caked with dirt, hideous, with weighted skin under dull eyes that look pitifully vengeful? at night he stays out to avoid the man he shares his apartment with, the one who glares at him through the framed glass in his bathroom, the sleepless monster that feels everything he ignores, drunk and full of nightmares so that the pavel who works and the pavel who socializes can laugh and spit and jeer. the man who cowers under sheets and stares at blinking clocks is human, disgustingly so, and he rots and rots until he pulls his arms through decadent sleeves embroidered by gods. he does not cry, but seethes, and then he pulls himself together, all intoxicated and wild, the character, the jester, the mercenary.

he plants his hands on the cold porcelain edges of his sink, locks eyes with the reflection he sees, and laughs as if mad.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | you know me, the more pain, the more suffering, the more gain. bring it y’all.

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

he sits in the backseat of a parked stretch hummer with his legs spread in a dramatic fashion, leaned back in his seat with aloof expressions, careless posture. it’s not his car, but he dominates the atmosphere, the perfect center of attention, the other man’s eyes steadily on him, as it should be, as he intends for it to be. silvers drip from him, a newfound love of chains and jewelry, pretty and powerful. he looks unimpressed, perhaps playing his version of coy as he says, “okay, you have me here, now what on earth are you going to do with me?” all sharp teeth and glinting eyes, a modern day dionysus filled with lies and mirth, devilish words with a darkened tone, he leans forward, his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. pavel smells of fortunes, far from the street rat in rags, far from desperate but perpetually greedy, his grin so sharp it practically glows in the dark, could easily be imagined floating in midair, hovering above the leather seats.

they’re only here to play games, fingers gleaming with rings and itching to touch, to sully, to disrupt.

in instances like this they feel perhaps immortal, catching the light of the car overheads, the glare and tinted windows blocking the blackness of the late night outside. yes, mother, a child not designed but merely thrown together, a sloppy collection of limbs and blood becomes something beautiful, something frightening, so very terrible. a boy who had to struggle for money now carries himself as if he has had it his whole life, so comfortable in luxury, shrugging at expensive things and putting his shoes on the interior of italian leather.

“you know what you’re here for.”

pavel’s lips pull back in a wicked smile. the knife digs into the bottom of his calf in his boot.

it’s all too easy to play a part; pursed lips, crossed arms, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. he appears petulant, perhaps wanton, poorly postured at a gala. expensive clothes but in an under dressed manner. he caught the targets attention immediately, an old married man with a high price on his head, a chunk of gold hidden in his chest, a new rolex behind his temples, and that’s all he sees now, not blood beneath flesh or rolling veins. if he is inhuman, then so is the man, objects for objective purpose, paid for in cash and carnage, a handsome face with chilling features.

he whispers lies and gets pretty words in response.

he likes it this way, business perceived as business, no fluttering eyelashes and personal questions, just the words of ‘roll over’ and a ringing, gawky laugh in response.

this is what war looks like to him now, red tinted club lighting and soaked underfoot, sleight of hand and golden letter openers, expensive bottles of wine and chandelier shards etched into skin. he suits this as well as he did sloppy street crimes, officers never minding the homeless man on homicide scenes; now they turn their backs to boys with expensive things, petty and spoiled, they assume, not worth their time. he climbs into the other man’s seat easily, a swing of legs over hips, knees fitted and he leans forward. it’s then that the feeling inside the car changes, near imperceptible to the eye but distinguishable by the way the man suddenly squirms, feeling less in control still, suddenly trapped. pavel gets close, faces nearly touching, eyes all humor. “what’s wrong? you wanna be on top?” he laughs, and the man pushes his chest, trying to get him off but pavel tightens his grip, fingers pressed tightly to the top of the seat on either side of the man’s head. “this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he feels the panic, the surge in energy, and it’s then, in one quick motion, that he unsheathes the knife and plunges it into ribcage.

he still does his best work with messy murder, pulling the knife out and slamming it into the man’s chest a second time, the leak of blood getting on his clothes, pants and undershirt black for good reason.

blood runs red yet appears inky in the under-lit vehicle, seeping out of wounds like tar, a monster escaping a body first in slow motion and then all too quickly. bodies get cold fast to him, his interest only spanning how long it takes for the light to leave your eyes before it’s on to the next. not a minute to waste, unopened bottles of champagne lay waiting to pop, showers of wine and new gadgets and shiny things to replace the new gaping void he feels in the cars interior. it doesn’t make him quite nauseous, but something inside him rolls. disgusting. boring.

he removes his long white over shirt now tainted with red and discards it on the floor of the vehicle carelessly, leaving a black wife beater on his person and opening the door, one leg sliding out in front of the other. he stills just a moment outside the gaudy vehicle, allowing only a moment to pass before the dull click of a lighter.

Extras:

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6BpLUvLJ5B0AShSPXzf4sT?si=xZj_nNlVTWOQqzk3K2S_Ig hc: owns gucci slides unironically