Scott Westerfeld Forum

Pages: 1 ... 18 19 [20] 21

Author Topic: Random RP One Shots  (Read 15559 times)

|ĸιrα|

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 82513
  • Razzle Dazzle Time!
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #285 on: February 05, 2019, 05:45:58 AM »

Peggy nooooo
Logged

I'm like the cool, ninja sharpshooter!

Eraisuithiel

  • Moderator
  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 58380
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #286 on: February 05, 2019, 05:51:21 AM »

Holy crap that was a whirlwind of emotions. Poor Peggy :c
But I am so glad Yvo got what he deserved
Logged

MercyResurrected

  • Moderator
  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 53130
  • Death Inspires Me Like a Dog Inspires a Rabbit
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #287 on: February 05, 2019, 06:01:45 AM »

She's my new baby and I just wanted to flesh her out.
Logged

ChaoticRhymer

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 9711
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #288 on: February 05, 2019, 03:03:36 PM »

My one objection is that I had said that Philip had directed Ralph into working for her.
Logged
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

"Blessed are the legend-makers, for they are not found within recorded time": J.R.R. Tolkien.

|ĸιrα|

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 82513
  • Razzle Dazzle Time!
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #289 on: February 05, 2019, 03:14:56 PM »

^
https://youtu.be/ilJ57Ap5DP8

Hey man it aint Ralph's story, it's Peggy's
Logged

I'm like the cool, ninja sharpshooter!

ChaoticRhymer

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 9711
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #290 on: February 05, 2019, 03:18:14 PM »

It's just I'm gonna have to change his backstory now.
Logged
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

"Blessed are the legend-makers, for they are not found within recorded time": J.R.R. Tolkien.

Mara-la

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 42103
  • strange fruit
    • Instagram
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #291 on: February 06, 2019, 03:43:01 AM »

Peggy... wow. That was so good. Trauma builds the best characters. Also, Yvo is disgusting my god.
Logged
Member since April 24th 2010.
----------------------------------
Author of "We All Come Home"
Short story; pub. March 2018
in Scarborough Fair Magazine
----------------------------------
www.youtube.com/maragrace

GeeBeezy

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 22262
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #292 on: February 06, 2019, 03:53:37 PM »

Logged


抹茶のマーブルレアチーズケーキ

Matcha marble cheesecake

ジャガイモはセクシーで

and suddenly I wasnt a fish anymore I was omnipresent

Mara-la

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 42103
  • strange fruit
    • Instagram
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #293 on: February 07, 2019, 06:47:48 PM »

OHHH STINNAAAAAA ITS HEEEEEREEEE

Roleplay: New York, New York
Title: The Sleepover
Characters involved: Autumn Moon, Andrew Thiessen, Anna Thiessen, John Thiessen
Guidance Rating/Content: this is a wholesome fic and probably the first wholesome thing I’ve written in ages


The day had been long, and certainly awkward at times. Autumn didn’t know what she had been thinking, going into this arrangement, or even suggesting it. Play the role of Andrew’s girlfriend so that his dad wouldn’t get angry with him; it seemed so stupid now. Yet still, somehow, she was enjoying it.

Earlier that day, they had gone out to the park, and Autumn had happily watched Anna play with her grandfather, John, while sitting on the bench with Andrew. It had been interrupted, of course, by Jen and her boytoy, but they had left without too much chaos. After that, they had gone for ice cream, and in true fake-girlfriend form, she and Andrew had opted to share a massive sundae, which Anna ended up getting in on too. From there, they had gone to the movie rental place to pick up something to watch later that night.

Now, they were back in her apartment, the three of them, with John having gone off to Andrew’s apartment for bedtime. Anna would be staying up there in the night as per her request, but for now, she was seated in Autumn’s couch as they waited for the pizza to arrive. Anna was acutely aware that both she and Andrew were injured, and so she had taken initiative in building a large (and rather well constructed) pillow and blanket fort, from which the TV was visible, and there was even a set of pillow “steps” that Autumn could use to get down on the ground with her bad leg.

The doorbell rang, and Anna looked over at her and Andrew. “I can open the door if you get the money,” she said in an authoritative voice. Autumn thought it was adorable. She glanced over at Andrew, who grinned back at her, getting up and taking out his wallet clumsily. She remained seated in place; she wouldn’t be much help in carrying stuff.

A few minutes later, the three of them were settled into the fort, pizza open and cups of orange pop out. Anna had chosen The Little Mermaid, which was apparently her favourite movie at the moment. When Anna wasn’t listening, Andrew had let Autumn know that it was news to him, because when he had talked to her on the phone only a few days prior, her favourite movie had been Snow White. They turned the movie on, and started in on their food.

***

By the time the movie came to its end, Anna was asleep on Andrew’s lap, her head hanging over his leg and resting on Autumn’s good one.

“I don’t really know how I’m going to get out of here,” Andrew said, eyeing the fort. Autumn knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry Anna with his shoulder and back injury, and she wouldn’t really be much help either.

“You’ll have to wake her up,” Autumn said gently.

Andrew frowned, looking down at Anna. Autumn had to admit that she looked too peaceful to wake her up. Still, it had to be done. Anna’s things were all upstairs at Andrew’s apartment anyway. John had told them to give him a call when the movie was done so that he could come down and get Anna, so that Andrew wouldn’t have to make another trip up.

Andrew gently slid Anna off his lap, but she still didn’t wake. “Do you mind? I’ll call my dad?”

Autumn looked down at the sleeping girl. How did you wake a child? Would she start crying? “Sure,” she replied in the most unfazed voice she could muster.  Andrew gave her a long look, as if to ask if she was sure, but she just waved him off. She could wake a little girl up. It couldn’t be that hard.

Once Andrew was gone, she gently ran her hand through the little girl’s hair, combing it out of her face. When Anna began to stir, she froze a bit. Was this alright, or would Anna hate it? She ended up settling her hand on Anna’s shoulder, giving her a slight shake, ever so lightly.

“It’s time to wake up,” she said quietly. “You get to go up to have a sleepover with your grandpa.”

“Opa’s not here yet,” Anna mumbled. “Do I have to wake up?”

“He’s on his way down,” Autumn said, peeking out and glancing at Andrew, who was just finishing up on the phone.

“Okay...” Anna said, a little grumpily. She pulled herself up into a seated position, and despite Anna’s shifting making her more comfortable (even though her good leg was the one being rested upon, the angle had made it so that her bad leg was a bit achy) she still found herself wishing the moment had lasted longer. She liked it here, her, Andrew, and Anna. It was so peaceful.

Soon, John was downstairs to get Anna, and they said their good nights, John assuring Andrew that he would get Anna’s teeth brushed before she went to bed. Autumn had watched this from the spot on the couch that she had moved to, not wanting to interfere. Anna waved at them as she left, and Autumn waved back.

Andrew shut the door and came over to sit by Autumn, looking at the pillow fort and the pizza box. “Thank you,” he said. “For doing all of this. You didn’t have to.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to. It was nice, all of this.”

He smiled at her, and then turned his attention back to the mess. “You should go to bed. I’ll get this cleaned up and get the couch ready.”

“Don’t be silly,” Autumn said. “We’ll clean it up together. I don’t want you lifting all this stuff, even if it is just lightweight.”

“You’re not exactly in any shape to lift stuff either,” he pointed out.

“Which is exactly why it makes the most sense for it to be a team effort,” she replied, already trying to stand, but losing her balance a little. She grabbed the edge of the couch to steady herself, and she saw Andrew shake his head.

“You’re going to bed,” he said, still gently, but a bit more firmly.

She eyed him warily, before speaking again. “Then so are you. We can clean this up in the morning.”

“No, Autumn, I’m not going to leave a mess in your apartment - “

“It’s fine,” she said, placing her hand over his. “Really. We’ll clean it up in the morning. We’re both tired now anyway.”

He nodded slowly, giving in, and she smiled. She eyed the couch that they were on, and she felt the heat rise to her face with the question that she was going to ask.

“Since... it’s all a mess out here. Do you want to come back and sleep with me again? You don’t have to if you don’t want, and I mean it in the most innocent of ways,” she added quickly. Of course, she wouldn’t mind if there was a repeat of last night, but she suspected it wouldn’t happen.

“Oh,” Andrew said, looking at her and then at the couch. “I mean...”

“I just thought it would be easier, you know, than pulling the couch out and moving stuff out of the way,” Autumn explained, words tumbling out now. How was it that she could go from very confident in the way she carried herself to a blubbering mess around him?

“Sure,” Andrew said simply, much to her surprise.

“Sure as in... you’ll come to bed, or sure as in you’ll use pull out the couch?”

“Sure, as in I’ll come to bed,” Andrew said, and she could tell that he was a bit amused by her sudden onset of awkwardness.

“Okay,” Autumn said, not knowing exactly what else to say.

They made their way to the bedroom, and took turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. She had initially slipped into her silk nightgown, but then had thought that it was maybe a little too sexy for something that was meant to be an innocent night. She had instead changed into a different nightgown, one that was a bit more conservative, and then made her way back out to the bed. She waited for Andrew to be done, and once he was in bed beside her, she turned off the bedside lamp, leaving them in darkness. At first, they lay there, side by side, trying to not touch one another, but soon, they found themselves inching a bit closer, until their skin was touching. Slowly, they found themselves back in a cuddle as they had the night before, Autumn’s head resting on Andrew’s chest his good arm around her. The awkwardness melted away as she listened to his heartbeat, letting it lull her to sleep.
Logged
Member since April 24th 2010.
----------------------------------
Author of "We All Come Home"
Short story; pub. March 2018
in Scarborough Fair Magazine
----------------------------------
www.youtube.com/maragrace

kristina-la

  • Moderator
  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 131196
  • A 1000 times I've failed still your mercy remains
    • tumblr
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #294 on: February 07, 2019, 06:56:35 PM »

Aweeeeeeeee that was so adorable!!!!!
Logged


“No matter how filthy something gets, you can always clean it right up”

Mara-la

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 42103
  • strange fruit
    • Instagram
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #295 on: February 14, 2019, 06:03:20 PM »

And here we go, long story.

Roleplay: The Great Fangsby
Title: Rebirth
Characters involved: Clara Malone/Myrtle Lochlan, Silas Lochlan, Christian Malone
Guidance Rating/Content: PG13? Some stuff hinted at but nothing too graphic or detailed.


Silas Lochlan was a man of little words, especially when he had his evening scotch. He was a handsome man, and Myrtle enjoyed watching him as he sipped his drink and read his book in front of the warm fireplace.

At least, she had enjoyed it for a time. The idea of being married young was something that she had grown accustomed to a long time ago. Her father had always told her that she’d be married before she was twenty, or else he wouldn’t support her any longer. She may have been able to get work as a seamstress somewhere, as sewing was her forte, but she had thought it best to just follow her father’s wishes and marry, if not for love, then the security it would provide.

When she was sixteen, she married Silas Lochlan, a twenty five year old handsome man from a reasonably well off family. She considered herself lucky; she’d seen some other arranged marriages that girls she knew growing up had had, and saw an overwhelming pattern of older men or widowed men marrying young girls. It may have been common, but the idea of someone so much older than her made her uncomfortable. Even Silas pushed that boundary just a little; it was evident fairly early in their marriage that he had a lot more experience with certain things than she, and that he was frustrated with her lack of understanding of the world.

But now, at nineteen, those were no longer issues. She and Silas had found a rhythm in their marriage. She knew how to anticipate her husband’s needs, and he could usually figure out hers in turn. They still didn’t have many things in common - he was interested in politics and she in fashion - but they had enough to maintain pleasant conversation with one another, and enjoy each other’s company.

The rhythm had become mundane though. The issue now was that Myrtle was finding herself falling for a man that wasn’t her husband.

And the trouble with being in a small farmers town was that she would run into him everywhere.

Christian Malone. She had met him at the market a few months back now, when she had gone to get some fruits and vegetables. She had reached too quickly for an apple, and being clumsy as she was, managed to knock a pile of apples off the shelf and onto the ground. Only, they hadn’t made it to the ground, because Christian - at some speed she not thought possible - managed to grab them all in time and put them back on the shelf. She remembered staring after him in shock, to which he said,

“I have good reflexes.”

The line had made her laugh, because it wasn’t what she was expecting. She had thought he would have said something to impress her, as the suitors her father brought by would do, or alternatively, she thought he wouldn’t say anything at all, similar to her husband. But no, he had said he had good reflexes. That comment had started a conversation between them, and Christian walked with her all through the market that day, keeping her company while she ran her errands.

They started off by introducing themselves to one another, to which Christian said she didn’t look like a ‘Myrtle’. When she asked what she did look like, he said ‘Clara’, giving her a good laugh. Clara sounded like an old lady’s name. After that, she had learned he was new in town, he didn’t know anyone around, and that he was glad to have made a friend. She had come home that day glad to have made friends with someone on her own, outside of her husband or father’s social circle.

A week later, she had gone into town again to get some fabric so that she could make a new dress for herself for her husband’s work event. That was the second time she met Christian, who was coincidentally in town also looking for clothing to wear to a work event. It didn’t take long for the two of them to realize that it was the same event they were attending; as it so turned out, Christian had picked up a job at the factory that Silas worked at, and the two of them worked as managers. The afternoon had gone by quickly, the two of them discussing fashion trends - something that interested Christian, which came as a pleasant surprise to Myrtle - and trying on outfits for one another. The shopkeep hadn’t been too impressed with Myrtle, knowing that she had a husband, and obviously thinking that she was being too promiscuous with another man, but it wasn’t like anything had happened. She was just glad to have a friend around who was interested in the same things that she was.

The first time that Myrtle realized that she may be having stirrings for Christian was the night of the party. She, Silas, and Christian had had good fun at the party, and when she and her husband had returned home, he wanted intimacy. She gladly obliged, but found herself thinking throughout the acts, what would it be like with Christian instead?

The fantasy had come to reality much sooner than she ever could have expected.

About a month after the party, Silas had to go out of town for a work event, and had asked Christian, his now friend, to check in on Myrtle. That being said, neither of the men had bothered to let her know what was going on, and so when Christian came to her door and she was in a nightgown with a robe to cover herself, things escalated between them. She had felt horribly guilty afterwards; how could she just betray her husband like that? But at the same time, she felt a certain thrill, one that she hadn’t ever had before. It was the first time, she realized, that she was doing something that she chose, rather than something that she was told to do. And that there, that gave her a sense of strength.

Once Silas returned, she and Christian had to pretend like nothing had happened, but it was so hard. She found herself wanting him more and more, with the danger of being caught making the need even greater. She felt alive, now more than ever.

The more she was with Christian though, the more she realized that he was… odd. He never went out on a sunny day, and preferred to be out more at night. He had a strange allergy to garlic, and fire offput him so much she could hardly believe it. How could anyone prefer cold chills over a warm and welcoming fireplace? She couldn’t figure it out… not until one night in the midst of an intimate moment when her heart was racing when he jerked back quickly, covering his mouth.

“What is it?” she remembered asking, wondering if he had heard Silas come home from his night shift early. But no, the house was silent.

She looked at Christian and saw a wild look in his eyes, something animalistic that scared her. He was staring down at her arm, and her gaze followed his to the point where he had been gripping her. It seemed that he had pierced the skin accidentally, as there were small crescent shaped nail marks in her skin with little drops of blood coming from them.

“What?” she asked again. Was he terrified of blood? “I can bandage it.”

But Christian had just stood there, staring, completely still. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t breathing. She got up and took a step towards him, and that seemed to unfreeze him, as he took a step back, still covering his mouth. An unease settled over Myrtle; why was he acting like this?

She made her way over to the bathroom, getting a bandage and tying it around her arm where the wound was. Normally, she wouldn’t bother, as it was such a small wound that it was barely even noticeable. When she returned to the bedroom, Christian had his clothes on already, and seemed to have straightened himself out.

“You must have pieced it together by now,” he said quietly as he watched her make her way over to the bed and collect her nightgown.

“Pieced what together?” Myrtle asked.

Christian just stared in response and she looked back at him, confused.

“I’m… not human,” Christian said slowly. “The garlic, the sunlight, the blood.”

At first, she had thought he was joking. She was familiar with tales of vampires, but mostly from old storybooks. They weren’t real. But no, he had proved it to her right then and there, leading her out into the living room where the embers of the fire in the fireplace still burned. He had stiffened before placing his hand on one of the embers, causing him to recoil quickly, as his skin burned. It burned more than a human’s would; she could see a hole straight through his hand.

“Holy God,” she had said, lowering to her knees to sit beside him on the floor. She had taken his burned hand gently in hers. “Why did you do that?”

Once again, he had stared at her. “You’re not… afraid?”

Myrtle shook her head. “Darling, if you wanted to kill me, you would have by now. There’s been plenty opportunity. I… I just have questions.”

And so, she had asked them. Much to her appreciation, Christian had been open and honest with her. He had been a vampire for nearly fifty years, making him much older than Silas, which brought its own irony forward, given her original thoughts on young women like herself being with men significantly older. It seemed God had a sense of humour. That was made especially clear when Christian told her that he had been turned by a chaplain. He told her about the struggles of the thirst that came with the vampire status, and how he had learned to control it well enough that being around humans didn’t bother him too much, so long as he was well fed and the humans didn’t start bleeding.

After that night, she felt even more at peace with Christian. The ease that had been there before was amplified now, since they were both being completely honest with one another. The only problem with this was that Silas was beginning to suspect. She had done her best to throw him off, always making sure to be ready to please him when he wanted to be pleased with the same intensity she always had, regardless of how tired it made her. Still, she didn’t think him convinced.

***

Now, she was in the barn with Christian. Given that she lived just outside of town, as well as her husband’s status and wealth, they had a few animals around. Christian had told her earlier that he needed to leave town soon to find somewhere else to pick up his life, seeing as people were beginning to notice his oddities as well as the rapid decline in livestock. She had offered him a horse that she and Silas had; the horse was elderly and in pain, dying anyway. She had wanted to put it out of its misery, but Silas had refused, stating that it could still be of use to them, but Myrtle knew that it was just torturing the animal. She figured that, this way, Christian could have his feed, and the horse could finally pass, and Silas would just think it was of natural causes. It was the perfect plan.

Christian had sent her behind some hay bales so that she wouldn’t have to watch, something that she was grateful for. She didn’t want to watch the animal die, but she also didn’t want to be rude or upset Christian by making him feel like a monster. She was glad he had told her not to look.

As she waited, she heard something outside, and before she could react, she heard the barn door being flung open.

“I knew - " Silas’s voice came before falling silent. A pause. “Where is she?”

There was a tremor in his voice, what sounded like genuine concern.

“Where is she, you monster?

Myrtle took a chance and peered out. Silas was staring at Christian, who was on the floor, his teeth mouth still on the animal’s body. She watched as he lay the horse down flat on the ground, before standing up.

“I’m not sure who you’re referring to,” Christian said calmly. He took a step towards Silas, and Silas backed up.

“My wife,” he spat in return. “Stay back, you creature.”

“I think there’s a misunderstanding,” Christian said, still calmly, though now standing in place.

“I think not, you incubus,” Silas snapped. “It all makes sense now.”

Before Myrtle even knew what was happening, Silas had thrown the karosene lamp he was carrying down onto some of the dry hay. It caught, and the fire began to burn, spreading quickly.

Myrtle stood up, and Silas saw her. He stared at her, and then to Christian and the horse.

“You knew!” he exclaimed. “Are you one too?”

Myrtle just shook her head, not knowing what to say. The fire had grown now, the dry hay acting as a perfect kindling substitute. She watched as Silas stepped back, now standing outside the barn, as the flames sealed off the only exit.

She watched as her husband said a prayer, ending with the sign of the cross, before disappearing from view. She must have been standing there for longer than she realized, because by the time Christian was at her side, having taken longer because he had to dodge the flames - she couldn’t breathe.

“We need to get you out,” he said, looking around, but there was fire all around them.

Her head was growing heavy and she felt faint. Her knees buckled, and she felt Christian catch her.

“No, no, Myrtle, you need to stay awake,” he said, but she could tell he was starting to panic. She felt him lift her up, but where he was carrying her she didn’t know.

Eyes closed now, she could still hear things going on around her. There was the fire crackling, the barn creaking, a rush of air, and then a strange silence. She opened her eyes ever so slightly to see darkness around them. There was a soft wet feel underneath her, and she realized that, somehow, they had gotten out of the barn, and she was now laying on the grass in the morning dew.

Christian held her hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Myrtle turned to face him, only to see tears in his eyes. She tried to speak, but it felt like her throat was sewed shut. Her heart was racing and aching, and her lungs burned. She was dying, and she knew it.

Finally, she was able to get out the words: “turn me.”

Christian just stared at her. He shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like, you don’t want this life.”

Myrtle fixed him with a strong stare. “I don’t want to die,” she managed to choke out.

Christian stared at her for another moment before nodding. He came in closer, and she could see the holes in his body. He was burned in several spots, and she wondered how much of it was from saving her. She knew he would heal, but that it would take time, especially with the number of holes that were there.

It hurt, when he bit her. The venom that poured into her from his fangs burned in her veins, and her heart pumped faster, feeling like it was going to explode. It was speeding up the smoke poison. Her eyes were shut again now, as she writhed on the grass. But then, she felt his wrist against her mouth, and tasted the iron-like taste of blood. Something in her told her that she needed to drink, take in what she could, and so, she did.

If the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Everything in her burned, her body ached, and she heard herself let out a cry.

Christian’s hand was on her then, shaking her. “Myrtle, you need to run,” he said urgently.

Her eyes cracked open and tears spilled out of them as she looked up at the sky, which was taking on a slightly light colour. She looked over at Christian, who was sitting beside her in the grass, and she could now see that the holes in his body were substantially larger than she had initially thought.

“Why?” she croaked.

“The sun is coming up. You need to find shelter. Sunlight kills our kind.” His tone was urgent, but also sad.

“But… you.”

He shook his head sadly. He pointed at his legs, which were bent on a strange angle, filled with burns. “I can’t,” he whispered.

Another wave of pain hit her, and she stared up at the sky. Maybe she should just die here, with him.

“Please,” he begged. “Please go. There’s the vegetable cellar, and you’d be safe there.”

“I can’t,” she said weakly. Even if she was prepared to leave him, she couldn’t imagine her body could handle it. But then, the burning sensation hit her skin.

She looked at Christian, frightened, who was wincing. The sun had broken across the horizon, rays of light now just touching them.

“Go, now,” he said weakly. “You still have time, your rebirth isn’t yet complete. Please, Myrtle, it’s the only and last thing I ask.”

She made a move to sit up, and her body moved much quicker than it ever had before. The more the light crawled into the sky, the more pain she was in. Now sitting up, she could see Christian’s legs had already turned to ash, and his body was beginning to decompose. There was no saving him. She leaned towards him, kissing him one last time. She felt his hand on her back, and then it was gone, dust in the wind just like the rest of him.

The burning was getting worse, and her survival instinct kicked in. Despite all the pain she was in, she bolted back in the direction of the barn, flinging open the door to the cellar, and climbing into it, shutting the door behind her. She started to walk down the stairs, but the pain was too much, and she fell, landing against the concrete floor.

***

It seemed like forever before the next night came. She had woken on the cold floor, a burning in her throat greater than anything she had experienced before, including the burn from the smoke inhalation. Once she was positive it was nighttime, she flung open the cellar door, and made a run for the nearest animals she could find, which was the cow at the butcher shop. She wanted to taste human blood, but she knew better; Christian had told her that having even the tiniest drop would make her crave it a thousand times more than she did already. She made it through several animals before she finally felt satiated, and so, bloodstained, she made her way back out onto the road.

Walking alone in the dead of night was not something she had done before, but she supposed it was her existence now. As she walked, she came across a newspaper that had been tossed carelessly aside. The front page bore a photograph of the barn ablaze; apparently, Silas had alerted the media. She read through the article, and it was full of Silas’s account of a freak fire that broke out as the result of the horse being startled. There was no mentioned of Christian, and at the end of the article, there was a part about Silas grieving the loss of his wife in the fire. There was to be a funeral in a nearby catholic church.

That was it, then. Myrtle Lochlan was dead. Only, she wasn’t, not exactly. Where would she go now? Who would she be?

Who would she be?

Who could she be? It was a good question; until Christian had entered her life, she had been whoever she was expected to be, whether that was an obedient daughter or a doting wife. Now, she had the freedom to choose.

Clara.

The name that Christian had thought appropriate for her echoed through her head. It really wasn’t such a bad name, now that she thought of it. Maybe it did suit her better than she thought. Clara Malone. It had a ring to it.

She couldn’t stay here anyway. And so, Clara Malone set off, walking as far as she could through the night before the next sunrise when she had to take cover.

Logged
Member since April 24th 2010.
----------------------------------
Author of "We All Come Home"
Short story; pub. March 2018
in Scarborough Fair Magazine
----------------------------------
www.youtube.com/maragrace

MercyResurrected

  • Moderator
  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 53130
  • Death Inspires Me Like a Dog Inspires a Rabbit
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #296 on: February 14, 2019, 06:22:24 PM »

Awwww. I mean, she shouldn't have cheated on her husband, but ya know, arranged marriages and all. It's an iffy world XD
Logged

Mara-la

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 42103
  • strange fruit
    • Instagram
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #297 on: February 14, 2019, 06:33:21 PM »

Yeah I mean I certainly don't condone cheating, but in her story it made sense. As Myrtle she didn't have a lot of say in her life, she kind of just did as she was told, and so as Clara she's become a bit more bold. She's still the soft and clumsy person she was as a human, but she's kind of coming into her own, so I'll be exploring that more in the rp now that I'm back :P
Logged
Member since April 24th 2010.
----------------------------------
Author of "We All Come Home"
Short story; pub. March 2018
in Scarborough Fair Magazine
----------------------------------
www.youtube.com/maragrace

Mara-la

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 42103
  • strange fruit
    • Instagram
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #298 on: March 01, 2019, 02:27:03 PM »

Okay, so this is actually from YEARS ago... like 2012. Well, the premise is, and the original half-finished oneshot. But it got me inspired to fix it up (you know, so the writing isn't so cringe) and now it fits in with the timeline that the book (that I'm working on still after all this time) has taken on. It's been a while, but I hope I did everyone justice :3

Also, note, Azula is Thalia... I changed her name for the book for several reasons, and so just to keep that in line, that's her name in this. If you wanted me to, I could go back and swap the names back :P I also made an edit to Lor's name so that it's not quite so out there. Double note, this takes place right before their last school year together... so it was defs bittersweet to write, knowing the fate of all these lovelies.

Roleplay: Dark Magic rp
Title: Piercings and Dyes
Characters involved: Thalia Raven Rivera (formerly Azula Airkyza Blue), Jordan Damien Lanpereaux, Lorelai Danika Mayfield (formerly Lorly), Sean (added: Edward) Nightfrost, Umbra (added: Jane) Sheppard.
Guidance Rating/Content: It's wholesome, minus the swearing


“You three look completely ridiculous,” Umbra said as she entered the hair salon.

Hair salon was probably being generous, Thalia thought, as her eyes swept around the room until they landed on Umbra. The room was dirty and gritty, there was hair everywhere that hadn’t properly been cleaned up, and it smelled heavily of bleach as opposed to the more aromatic perfumes used in proper salons. Still, this had been significantly cheaper than a proper salon, and they were students who didn’t have much in the way of savings.

“Hey, at least we were brave enough to get this done. You were too chicken shit,” Damien replied, shrugging.

It looked funny, him in the chair; of course, he looked funny most of the time, being as tall as he was. At seventeen, Damien stood at six-foot-three, making him significantly larger than any of their peers. That being said, he was also very lanky and thin, and his movements were usually awkward. Seeing him now, slouched in the too-small salon chair with foil wrapped around patches of his hair was a hysterical sight.

It was clear that Umbra thought so too. She had taken out her phone, snapping photographs of Damien in the chair, and then proceeding to document Thalia herself, and then Lor, who Thalia saw flash her signature scowl.

“For the record, I wasn’t chicken-shit, I just happen to like my hair,” she replied, pushing back one of the many long strands of white-silver hair. “I don’t need to dye and damage it.”

This was true. Thalia knew that Umbra was quite proud of her hereditary lack of pigment, and that she would never change it. Thalia had never hated her brown hair, but after seeing Damien dye his hair black so many times, she had followed his lead. She knew he was self-conscious of the natural blonde-brown hair he had and could recall the first time he had dyed his hair when he was 13 – his mother had not been impressed.

“Delete it,” Lor snapped. “Delete it or I’ll cut you.”

Umbra rolled her eyes, and walked closer to them, showing them the photos. “I’m sending them to Sean. He wanted to see what this whole process was, but then he got the flu.”

“The flu in August?” Damien asked.

“Yeah, I dunno, mum thought it was weird too,” Umbra said dismissively. “How much longer is this going to take?”

“A while still,” Thalia replied. “Once the foils come off, they can paint the colour in. The foils have another… five minutes, I think?”

“God, that’s so long,” Umbra said, turning one of the remaining empty salon chairs towards them and plopping down into it.

“But it’ll look fabulous when it’s done,” Damien replied, winking at Umbra, to which she just shook her head.

“What colours did you guys decide on, by the way?” Lor asked, swivelling in her chair ever so slightly.

Thalia looked at Lor and Damien curiously. While they had been getting their hair treated by the stylists, they hadn’t had a chance to talk, and it wasn’t like they had really planned out this visit too much, it was more something they had done on a whim as a result of wanting to do something fresh for the upcoming school year.

“I’m doing blue,” Thalia replied. “Like, that bright, electric blue.”

“That’ll compliment your eyes,” Umbra said. When Thalia raised an eyebrow in response, Umbra shrugged. “They’re blue, and if your hair gets some blue, it’ll just look cohesive.”

“Thanks for stealing my idea,” Damien teased from his seat. “I was going green, y’know, bring out my eyes.” 

“You’re such a bull shitter Jordan,” Lor snarked.

“I am not, Lorelai,” he retorted, a mild tone of annoyance apparent at the use of his first name. “I am actually going green. Not for my eyes though, you’re right, that was bullshit. I just thought it would be cool. And I like green.”

“What about you?” Thalia asked Lor before she could come back with another jab.

“Purple,” Lor replied bluntly. “Mum hates purple, so I figured, why the fuck not. It’s not like she’d notice anyway.”

“Seems perfectly reasonable to me,” Umbra replied, now spinning herself lazily in the chair.

 “Don’t do that, I don’t want you getting sick in my shop,” a voice came from the staff-only door.

Thalia turned around and looked to see the owner of the shop – who also was one of their stylists – standing there, staring at Umbra, who stopped spinning. He was a short, squat, balding man, which held a certain irony given the nature of the hair salon, but he was well-kept, with an immaculately groomed mustache and beard and perfect nails.

“Are you here to get something done?” he asked.

“No, just here to check in on my friends,” Umbra replied, pointing at the three of them. “But it seems they’ll be a while yet, right?”

“Probably another half hour at least,” the owner replied.

“I see. Thanks,” Umbra said, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Damien asked.

“I’m bored. I’m going to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. I want to get this replaced with a hoop and nose chain,” Umbra replied, fiddling with the black gemstone stud in her nostril. She let her arm drop and then turned, heading out of the shop before any of them could say goodbye, which was typical.

The timer went off, and Thalia sat back in her chair as the stylists came back out to finish up.

***

They had agreed to meet at the House – a small abandoned house that they had fixed up together and that they now used as a hangout spot – and have dinner together (dinner being the Subway that they picked up on their way over). Umbra’s motorcycle was already outside, showing that she was there already. As Thalia walked in the door, she was surprised to see Sean sitting on the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

Sean turned around to face them. “Yeah, a bit,” he said. “The fever broke, so that’s good. The nurse that came by thought it was food poisoning instead of the flu, and that makes sense since Umbra can’t cook.”

“Excuse you,” Umbra called from down the hall. “My cooking did not give you food poisoning! It was the damn salami. I told you it was rotten but you still made a sandwich with it.”

Sean smirked amusedly, and then shifted over on the couch to allow for the three of them to come and sit. Umbra emerged from the hallway then, and Thalia saw the silver chain hanging from the new hoop in her nose.

Umbra spread her hands, her Jack Skellington pins clinking together on her black denim vest. “What do you think?”

“It looks good,” Thalia replied, and Lor nodded along in agreement. Strangely enough, there was no reply from Damien.

“Really? No comment about how sexy it is?” Umbra asked, wandering over.

Thalia looked across the room at Damien, who was sitting in a chair, but was looking down at his phone. At Umbra’s comment, he looked up, appearing slightly startled, as if they had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

“It looks sexy,” he replied, but the usual flirtatiousness wasn’t there.

“What’s on your phone?” Lor asked, peering over, trying to get a look at the messages on his screen.

“Nothing,” Damien replied, putting his phone away. “Just a text from my sister. She wanted to know if I was coming home for dinner. Lord, you guys are all so judgemental.” He stretched his legs out, pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously irritated by the sudden interest in his affairs.

“I think you all look good,” Sean interjected.

Thalia grinned at him. Leave it to Sean to be peacemaker. He was the calmest among them, and he often rounded out the edges that the rest of them had.

“Thank you,” she said, playing with a strand of her new blue hair.

They ended up having their subs, and then starting up the junkshop TV they had got for the House. Hooked up to it was an old Nintendo 64, and Thalia spent the rest of the night watching Umbra, Damien, and Lor as they played Super Smash Bros competitively with one another while Sean napped soundly on the couch.
« Last Edit: March 01, 2019, 03:40:28 PM by Mara-la »
Logged
Member since April 24th 2010.
----------------------------------
Author of "We All Come Home"
Short story; pub. March 2018
in Scarborough Fair Magazine
----------------------------------
www.youtube.com/maragrace

Eraisuithiel

  • Moderator
  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 58380
Re: Random RP One Shots
« Reply #299 on: March 01, 2019, 03:21:22 PM »

Ughhh I'm so nostalgic for these babies ;-;
Logged
Pages: 1 ... 18 19 [20] 21