RolePlayer.me

01. Let's just get this out of the way now. I won't be here 24/7. Rick isn't my main page. I do have other pages that require my attention. I also work a very busy physically demanding job and care for immediate family members who are ill. I also do like to get away from the site, and at times that includes traveling out of town or state. Do not hound to me write, I will write when I have time. 02. I am a multi-para writer but known to dabble into novella territory when inspired to do so. Even though I do prefer to write in groups I will rp in comments. Messages are strictly for plotting.03. My version of Rick Grimes is mostly canon to the shows The Walking Dead and it's spinoff, The Walking Dead We're The Ones Who Live. I will do however go AU. 04. I am a member of the group The Bloody Blade RPG. Even though I rp with people not involved with the group I do make my group a priority. Please understand that my group first no matter what.05. I will say this now I am a grown man well over the age of 21. That will be reflected in the themes I allow in my writing and given the fact it is a zombie apocalyptic show you can expect swearing, violence, gore and other adult themes to be present. I don't write with minors. So please be of legal adult age to write with me.06. Just to be clear.  I don't blend roleplay with real life especially when it comes to shipping. In real life, I am happily taken by my girlfriend who also roleplays on site and usually ship with her. However for this account, I am remaining unattached or I may multi-li until a pairing actually happens. Be warned I'm all about chemistry, I won't ship with a Lori or Michonne just because it happened on the show. I could very well pair with another character or a character from another verse.  Now if we do ship don't mistake us shipping or romantic moments as wanting something in real life. Again I'm happily in love and taken by my girlfriend. If you cross a boundary I will end the pairing and you will be deleted.07. Yes I'm heavily into crossovers not just sticking to the zombie verse. I will add mostly horror/supernatural genre like Buffy, Supernatural and Dead by Daylight and apocalyptic shows, movies & games like The Last of Us, Resident Evil, Fall Out to name a few. Basically if we can interact I will add you.08. Above all else please have fun and keep this place positive this is my most important rule. I do not like toxicity, bullying or negativity of any kind. If you're not here to write and keep things pleasant then I don't want you on my page.Looking forward to writing with you all - The writer behind The Brave Man

𝓓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝓑ᴇɢᴜɪʟᴇ,Starter for:   www.roleplayer.me/LordvonRabenmort Prologue---"It was not the fable's that Ella was used to being told by hermother. This one held a more sinister of sorted details. One's that were barely whispered over a trembled lip as a heavy mist cloaked the ghostly white mansion on top of the hill that seemingly had its own pulse, heartbeat if you stared long enough.The prettiest of flowers and emerald blades trailed the surrounding fields to the doorway leading into Lord Von Rabenmort's home. A deceptive scented sweetness enticed visitors along with his kind glacier like eyes spiriting in screams, pained breaths that would all soon know." Many months had passed since she lost her father and along with him the very spark that once captured her heart and soul---"Even their home that once held such beauty with hand painted petite flowers along the wallpaper faded just as her own mother's eyes had long ago. What was once familiar to Ella seemed more so like a spector of her past. In its remembrance, she could still see the memories that shrouded around varies objects, a vase, her own teddy bear that aligned her bed since she was a knee-high no longer held the warmth, magic's it was had and even the tiny sparrows, cardinals that would sing with her as the morning star knitted over the horizon silenced their once cheerful song. Since her stepmother's arrival along with her two offspring that sounded like hyena's cackling at dusk, a dark cloud much like an evil magician's cloak shrouded over her family's lands.Flowerbeds, the orange orchards her own mother's hands kneaded in for hours on many days working the soil as the sun embraced her loving movements and christened each seed now turned to dust as if the heart of the soil itself abandoned all of their fields. It was as barren, cold as her stepmother's soul and reflected that in which she exuded in her every step and sway and Ella was convinced if evil truly had a bride it would be her stepmother who would be the equal of such a task and could easily claim it.Day, after long gruelling day she worked poor Ella to the bone and in her nights she often had to soak her chapped fingers from all the dusting, scrubbing against the harsh cold tile that wore her knuckles as they gleamed white and crimson through the cracks that would form. Even with all the darkness that clamoured around her in an almost mocking way, Ella's radiance still gleamed like the sacred pearl moon in an obsidian sky and the stars clung to the shimmer of the young lasses gentle soft eyes. Her long spools of golden locks never tarnished or lost its lustre even when it was a dishevelled mess wrapped in ribbons upon her head and whenever a visitor were to arrive at their home she still met each gaze with a warm inviting welcome and took their coats as she escorted them inside.Her mother's words although not spoken since she passed, still lived long after the lips that once belonged to her. Only kindness, love outshines all else and is the greatest of magicks to cast any darkness away. But it was when her stepmother decided to fire her parent's servants, some who had been with their family since before Ella was born, that the young lass finally gave way and sunk to her knee's sobbing with her small hands muffling her whimpers and contesting words. In their wasteful spending the value of their home, belongings and lands that have been in Ella's family for over two hundred years have almost lost all of its worth, and it was on that day that she laid trying to gather the pieces of her heart from the very ground in the form of tears that she was told she had to keep up the responsibilities of the estate as well as work in the mansion owned by the man Ella only knew as Lord Von Vabenmort."What?" Ella's voice cried out in broken breaths as her stepmother's scowling gaze looked down upon the disgrace of a stepdaughter she saw Ella to be and repeated herself again, but this time kneeled alongside of her and flicked her long disgusting finger under the young lasses chin. "You heard me, girl. Or..." Her eyes traced along her supple curves, the rise of her creamy white breasts that shivered in disbelief and fright."We can find other means for you to save your family's home, and I am sure I can find a thousand suitors to take up your days...." -A scandalous, evil snarl escaped her venomous lips as she continued her sentence, causing Ella to flinch back as if she was struck by the whip she often used on the poor lass."And nights if this arrangement does not suit you. The choice, Cinderella, is completely up to you. You can lose your home, and the lands in which I'm sure your mother's spirit still flourishes over can be taken and pounded into the very ground. Then swept away just like the dust that both of your parents are now, The choice I will repeat again darling girl is yours..."The last of her words spilled mockingly over her curled lips as she stood, turned and walked out of the room and Ella swore even in the light a darkness never left her side. Ella laid still slumped over, feeling defeated as her gaze fixated on the one single candle flickering dimly upon the cedar block table in their kitchen. Only one... Her stepmother even restricted this much, not wanting to waste even one single candle when she said we had no business being awake in the nights. Those were the times that ghosts, and long forgotten ancestors ruled over the lands. Suddenly she could hear the whispers of her childhood friends speaking of Theo and the mansion along the side of the hill and how even the roots of the tree's rose above the soil as if they were veins blackened by the sun or evil that penetrated the grounds no one truly knew.Her choose left her mouth dry, her mind spinning at the evil she knew and possibly the one she did not and a forbidding feeling trembled upon her incandesce flesh, but she knew she hardly had a choice. Much like most things in her life now, nothing was really left up to her. It seemed the trail covered once in marigolds, hopes and reachable dreams were now littered in dirt. Slowly, she flattened her small hands along the hard, cold tile flooring and stood tall, but sha kingly against the dying embers of the candle before her as she wiped away her wet nose and blow it out at once retreating to her bedroom in the attic for the last few hours she would know in her childhood home, although Ella was not told the whole truth of the arrangement her stepmother had made.The next morning, although the morning star sliced through the curtains in a warm golden haze, Ella couldn't feel anything but a bone chilling coldness seep over her soul as she packed a sachet of the few remaining things she owned in these days. Her stepmother was more than happy to oblige the young lass with the only carriage and horse they owned now and this only trickled fear more so upon Ella as she shivered with each rock, boulder the dusted off the uneven dirt road. Soon they would arrive at Theo's mansion and without warning her stepmother tossed her belongings along the dirt road and alerted the coachman not to make one more move as he began to climb off his seat to help Ella down the buggy's steel steps.A soulless smirk and a blackness, crimson ribboned in her stepmother's eyes as if devils were dancing, chanting telling tales she once heard as a child and Ella couldn't resist as she climbed backwards out of the carriage, pleading with her stepmother,"Please? I'll do anything. Allow me to come home, and I will work double what I do now?"Tears steamed down her face and she was met with just a long extended finger pointing to Mr. Theo's door and Ella knew it to be no use, and she knelt down shakingly and picked her belongings up and was met with the coachman's sorrowful gaze that nearly broke whatever courage she needed to muster her legs to walk along the path leading to his door of the unknown. She barely had the capability to raise the dragon claw knocker that made such an ominous sound and softly breathed the words, "Hello." As she awaited for Lord Von Vabenmort to open the door but secretly hoped he wouldn't at all....Ella had never seen blackness flicker in such a way as it did in her stepmother's eyes. It was as if every dark tale, the very opening of hell's gate, glinted in the shadows that were held. When she first mentions Lord Von Rabenmort's name and the "work" Ella would do in the upkeep of his home. Her lips curled up in the most unnatural way, and it felt worse than the lashing Ella took in most nights by her stepmother's hands. Her life was once a fairy tale of sorts, but since the passing of her father, each page and chapter has withered away just as the dryness that overtook her family's once lush lands. That glint, spark in her stepmother's eyes—could it be there was a worse fate than the one she suffered now at her hands? She quivered in such thoughts but tried to be brave, just as her mother once taught her, because it hardly mattered these days. Her life was not her own anymore, and she felt like a star without a constellation to belong in. The meadow mice that shared her quarters seemed to sense the foreboding future as they looked upon Ella with tear-filled eyes and clutched to each other as they waved goodbye to the young lass they hoped they would someday see again. As the door creaked open on hinges that seemed well oiled and should not have made a single sound. It was not the rubbing of metal upon itself that Ella heard, but a warning: spirits crying out, telling her she must go; turn around now! It felt like a talon's claw scraping along her delicate porcelain flesh, but she knew she hadn't a choice. Her stepmother already made the arrangements, and she was not only made to help with the upkeep of the Baron's mansion, but she must stay for a few weeks and be his guest. Many tales were told in hushed tones, as if fear were placed upon the teller's eyes. If they spoke too loud, or the zephyr wind carried their words, the Baron would soon come from them too, and they would become part of the folklore that haunted these lands.Ella gentle stepped over the threshold and watched her own foot as if it did not even belong to herself, and although the scent of the foyer was pleasant with an array of an almost unnatural red rose, it sickened her because it smelt too sweet, too perfect, or too ripe. Whatever it was, it felt like a shrouding of a more pungent odor hidden in the floor boards or perhaps the walls; she was not sure, and as she stepped further inside, the door slammed suddenly and swept up the long red carpet that ran endless along the mahogany floor. Ella yelped and clung to her sachet of belongings, then bit her bottom lip. She would not cry; she would not shake even a muster. No. She would be brave, and the stories she heard were just stories passed on from one generation to the next. In truth, it couldn't be real. For it would mean the Baron was not the age he appeared in the many paintings she had seen. How could the stories be true, unless?Ella gazed around at her surroundings and noted almost right away the intricate detailing of the surrounding wallpaper. It almost looked like the same rosettes her mother would paint on canvas for her when she was little, but these seemed old, even though the inside of his mansion looked like it was perfectly kept. A time capsule from a much earlier time. As she traced her soft fingertips along each detail and each line, her cherub lips trembled as she felt pain and tormented souls between the crevices and in her mind.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------𝓓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝓑ᴇɢᴜɪʟᴇ, Response  Any sense of time passing was close to non-existent at the von Rabenmort mansion. Neither the rays of the sun nor the glow of the moon ever effectively penetrated through the constant thick mists cloaking the grounds with their chill, moist embrace—giving the impression of an eternal silver twilight during daylight hours. Flowers and plant life did not bloom or wither. Fauna and insects did not age or die, nor were they able to reproduce. This all were effects of a curse. An ancient curse stirred awake by humanities lusting curiosity for the perilous forbidden after a many centuries-long slumber, resulting in the estate being dragged in-between the worlds of the dead and the living. A lesson, perhaps, that humans should not fiddle with what they did not fully understand. It had become a place of nightmares fed by hatred, pain, lies, deceit; a concoction of poisonous insanity dripping down the walls and ceilings—affecting all imprisoned within, one way or another. The rebirthing of all this darkness had been influenced by a single book the master of the house had one day found when exploring a newly discovered hidden passage behind one of the hearths build inside the large manor. The book was written in Latin, a language tutored to him in the early years of his pre-adolescence. It was clear from the first moment he picked it up and opened it, that the pages were old, possibly even ancient. The ink, however, appeared as fresh as if it had met with the paper merely yesterday. This fact fascinated the Master. But the words themselves, the horrors they spoke of, fascinated him even more. Little by little they seeped into his soul, leaving his heart as sunless and cold as the darkest of voids, stirring a turning of tides—the curse—into motion.It was very clear to Madonna that the man was easily swayed by his sinful desires, though, in those days, he kept it successfully a secret from the public, his soul not yet fully tainted by darkness, yet ever present from the moment he had taken his first breath. Perhaps she so effortlessly saw the truth of his heart since it wasn’t so different from her very own. Is it not that, those of the same kind easily recognized each other? She took delight in dipping her fingers in his private affairs, cautiously exploring. What she found thrilled her to the core; an unhappy wife who resented her husband and let the pains of her heart (caused by his many beatings and stinging words rolling so mindlessly off his tongue) freely weep upon the caring hands of her father-in-law until the latter had died, his secret perverse acts with fellow men and female whores of a private underground sex club. It was she, Madonna, who hinted to Mrs. Rabenmort of Theodore’s unfaithfulness. The lack of interest in bedding her—his wife—had raised questions in her fragile mind before, and she did not find it hard to believe the shocking soft-spoken words of Lady Tremaine, for it made complete sense. She wasn’t sure she would take action, seeing as she had a sinful secret of her own which, if revealed, would undoubtedly send Theodore into a mad frenzy. Her marriage with him, as miserable it made her, still was better than being seen as a ‘fallen’ woman, an unfavorable reputation no woman of high-status wanted to obtain.However, one night, they had a terrible fight, and she betrayed herself by yelling out the truth of their children; that they were not his but fathered by his very own father, that she had had a liaison with the late Mr. Rabenmort during the earlier years of their arranged marriage—a result of the lack of love she received from Theo. So the children, disturbingly, were in fact his half-siblings. For a moment he was lost for words, his visage bearing an expression of genuine shock; his lips apart, his deep blue hues wide and wild like an owl’s, pupils manipulated into dilation by a prior intake of something intoxicating.Noting his state, which only enraged her more, she daringly hit him then with her truest thoughts on him, such as that he was a poor excuse for a gentleman, or a man in general. A mistake, for it moved him into action like a charging soldier on a battlefield.“You haven’t seen nothing yet of who I really am, you filthy slut,” he hissed hotly in her face, the smell of whiskey riding on his breath. He had roughly grabbed a handful of her hair to yank her head back, forcing her to meet his icy gaze as a cry of pain left her throat. “Oh yes, you’ll come to beg for my forgiveness once you got a decent taste of the horrors that reside within me. Making you shudder with utter fear before my feet, which is precisely where you belong.”He paused his tongue. Her whimpers of fright filled the sudden silence—a strange delight to his ears, he suddenly found. Rushes of intense emotions and happenings were a drug to him. A nasty smirk slowly spread across his handsome but terrible visage then, a raging fire presenting itself within his eyes. Abruptly, the fingers of his free hand seized her chin, after which he continued: “Ones wife should at all times obey her husband. And yet you dared to besmudge my name with your treachery, and that of the children, whoring yourself out to your husband’s very own father.” He tugged at her chin, bringing it closer to him so that their faces almost collided. Was that a glimmer of madness within his eyes? “It is not I that shall burn in hell forever, my darling wife. No, it will be you.” With a hard shove he released her from his grip, sending her sprawling to the floor with her face moving merely inches from the hungry flames of the hearth-fire. She thought it her imagination that the flames seemed to lean toward her, like an unperceivable wind blowing them in her direction. The true forces behind it, however, was the mansion itself, and whatever had once nested itself there and ever since remained. It lusted towards the words spoken by Theo, a promise laying within. Yesss, it responded as an alluring whisper in his ear, give her soul to me. I will make your wish into reality. All you have to do is find the right passage in the book, perform exactly what is written, and vengeance will be yours.                                               The events of that very night spun the last threads of the curse into completion, a total domination. And not even Lady Tremaine had foreseen this outcome. Perhaps if she would have known the possibility of it, she wouldn’t have done what she did. But not for very long did she let the little regret she felt linger within her thoughts. Maybe it was what they deserved, what was meant to be. She merely gave their already sealed fate a little push. Tragedy though came to strike her eventually too with the sudden passing of her husband, which presented her with no other choice than to marry an acquaintance of the late Lord Tremaine—Ella’s father. Ella, who was so perfect, so lovely and good-natured. So different from Madonna’s own daughters, who continued failing her at every opportunity, puting her and themselves to shame. The bright light of her stepdaughter outshone all, which only made her, Drizella and her other daughter Anastasia abhor every fiber of the girl’s being. So, after Ella’s father left his daughter by slipping into his final but forevermore slumber, leaving Madonna once again widowed, she began abusing the power she had over the girl. What right did Ella have to be so perfect, while her very own daughters, who despite born of pure nobility, ever appeared lesser then. It was time to put Ella in the position she belonged; that of a servant.It was after some time however, that Drizella came up with an even better idea. To remove the unwanted girl out of their sights, yet still have her suffer. “Maman,” Madonna’s eldest daughter spoke at dinner one evening, she once more having complained about her stepsister. “Oh Maman, do you remember the horrid stories about that one mansion on the side of a hill?” A dark excitement in her voice. “Did not you mention once they were true? You must send her there! I believe a more horrible fate does not exist.” She cast a glance at her sister, suddenly booming out her awful ear-screeching laugh as if the words she just spoke were the contents of a joke, though she was absolutely serious about them. Anastasia joined her, a sound as unsavory as the other. Not unlike two hens madly clucking. “That’s enough!” Their mother yelled above the cacophony, immediately bringing silence to the room. Regaining her calm, she said: “For once you seem to speak with a brain, Drizella. It’s not a bad idea, I must confess.” Madonna’s eyes darkened, came unfocused as they stared into the distance—her mind in another place. “Indeed, not bad at all.” Theodore had never learned who disclosed his secrets to his wife. Which worked greatly in Madonna’s advantage, for if he knew, her wicked plans would never become a reality at all. Letters were exchanged between the two, in which Madonna inquired about the Baron’s health, and mentioned the time they once spend together, so that he hopefully remembered her face.Part of his response read: Dear lady, I fear my mind is not as bright as how it used to be. Yet, I believe I do recall the memories you speak of. My wife, children, they left me abandoned. The past few decades I have been incapable in leaving my home. Loneliness is therefore a heavy ache upon my heart. Since you decided to write me, I would be greatly pleased if you were to consider paying me a call. Much has changed last time we met in the flesh. I desire to tell you all about it. Well, what has not yet fled my thoughts. The days seem to only blend into each other. Perhaps you could make me remember the parts of the past that have gotten lost to me. I have always been fond of your company.Almost all lies, of course. He merely sought to trick her into his deadly trap. Another soul, a step closer to his salvation. Oh, he would have a guest soon alright, but not the Lady Tremaine. She was not so foolish as to tread upon those accursed grounds herself and meet her end by whatever evil had dominated it. No, as planned Ella would go. In a returning letter she told her own lies; she was indisposed, too unwell to travel, and would send one of her maids instead to compensate for it, so that he both would have the company he asked for and have another help for the household.This Theodore did not mind. A soul was a soul. Though he did not dare to imagine that the maid’s was as pure as a newborn’s—without even a slight trace of sin. When the girl made her way up the tracks leading to the manor on the agreed date, the book became aware of her presence, and so did Theodore as it whispered about her arrival into his ears. Our new guest is almost at the door. Make it worthwhile. I too am starving for entertainment. Concealed by the shadows of the foyer, he observed Ella’s entry into his house. Not yet would he make his presence known. First, he wanted to study her from afar. Her breathtaking beauty was the first thing he noted, which lead to a musing of how the expressions of horror and fright might transform that lovely visage. It was then when the front doors flew shut—the terrible loudness of it cascading off the walls of the large room. That jump, how delightful.He could not help but smirk darkly with pleasure. He followed her gaze. Ah, yes, the painting depicting the Master. Aside from the impressive staircase leading to the first floor, it was perhaps what most easily drew the eye of one who found themselves here for the first time. First and only time these days, as a matter of fact. Theodore continued watching her with eyes unblinking, and when she trailed her soft but callused fingertips along the wallpaper adorning the walls, he felt a slight stirring of lust within himself. There was a sensual gentleness to how she touched it. Her brow suddenly seemed to furrow in pain. Was she perhaps clairvoyant? If so, she might possess the ability to altar Theo’s existence, of which he was unsure he should feel mad or glad about. How things currently were, he had become very used to it. The toying, the tormenting, the beguiling, the taste of heart’s blood upon his tongue and the delicious ecstasy of taking a life...No, she will only deprive you of what is your only means of experiencing pleasure—of feeling something. You do savor in these games we play. Without it, you would truly feel damned. The one we serve has the only true power to give what your heart yearns for. Do not forget my promise. A mere human being cannot help you. Only their souls are of use to us. Remember this. “Looking for anything in particular?” The Baron’s toneless voice came from somewhere close behind Ella, abruptly disturbing the tranquil stillness.

Her porcelain slender fingers roamed between his slick blackened strands, reminding her of sea moss brought in from the tide and its moist, salty scent. The comfort she felt around him only drew her closer to him as she laced her creamy leg over his thigh. The churning of the sea could be heard in the distance as a storm loomed overhead and sea gullies cawed and swooped over vessels as if to warn the sailors of the impending winds . White frothy tips crashed into blackened rocks as if anger were being contained, and the sound of servants soft hushed foot steps, clattering dishes as they too prepared for the unknown at the King’s request. There was a time when such weather set an unease in her soul on the days her Papa was on an excursion in the midst of a storm.But he always returned with a smile placed upon his face and a twinkle held in his pristine azure eyes. “It was just a simple heated conversation, my lass,” he would say, seeing the weary expression on Ella’s young face. “Didn’t I tell you the sea was a woman’s heart, and sometimes she lashes out, wanting to be left barren in her days without pesky sailors and their oversized toys sweeping across her crystallized peeks and fishing in her darkened depths?” It was always the same routine when he returned home. First sitting in his favorite old, worn chair. Momma immediately stood by his side with a cuppa of fresh brew as he snaked his arms around my tiny waist and drew me near. He hadn’t bathed, and from the scent, he had not seen a trickling of soap in many days. But he was my father, and I adored his natural scent. Just like now, Ella thought to herself, of Mr. Kit and smoothed her satin cheek over his bare masculine chest. Was it any wonder why she would fall for a man whose pulse riddled in the same tempered breath as her father. A true sea voyeur was a man who matched the mystique of the sea's hidden treasures.A sweet melancholy washed over her mind with many memories, like the churning of the tide. A book of her life, much like the sea itself how it overlaps and pulls back, waddling and revealing in frothy ivory silks filled with laughter and tears as if frozen in time. It was these moments that she held close to her heart when the travesty of her stepmother tried to dim her inner light. Ella was raised on fairytales, and in her youth, she danced with fae in the forbidden forests, where grand oaks were portals to other worlds. At times, she thought perhaps it's best to surrender these childish notions, just as one does when they put away their old toys in a chest, sweeping them under their bed.It was the worst day of her life when the Duke brought her to the castle, and tears spilled from her deer-doe eyes. It was as if every wish she placed upon the stars above scattered around her, and the light many wished to extinguish flickered in dying blues and suffocating embers before he would enter her world for the second time. A crackling whip zigzagged across the sky like the tongue of a dragon, causing Ella the slightest fright as she shivered and tightened her tiny fingers around Kit's sleepy masculine frame. Ella quickly recovered and giggled at her silliness.Wanting a closer look at the storm, she slipped out of bed and placed her small toes over the withered mahogany wooden floors. Each grove, a line deepened with age, told tales of those who dwelled in this room ages ago, as well as the wrinkles it must have had when a man chopped it down. She sighed at that thought and hoped at least it was ending in its stage of life and now served a new purpose from the forest in which it was taken. She instead supported worthy mortals in their comings and goings in life. Her chemise was slightly larger than her slender frame. And as she stood, the lace strapping on her shoulder spilled downward following the flow of her golden ringlets, and the warm misty air caressed her like a mother welcoming her home.She slid the doors leading to the terrace overlooking the wild sea, and as she gazed outward, she saw the stitched darkening sky bleeding into the waters, white tips flaring upwards like a ladies fan. She thought of all the adventures her father and Mr. Kit must have had. Since she was a little girl, she longed for such travels and to visit lands she only read about in the books from the second-hand store in her village. She was always intrigued by the unfamiliar languages, customs, and folklore that other lands held. Ella leaned against the frame of the doorway as her golden tresses spun wildly around her face as she looked at Kit, still asleep, with his lips slightly parted as he hissed in and out of his dreams. She knew they shared the same spirit, one that never was anchored to one given shore. But she also knew his loyalty to his country and people and how he would lay down his last breath to see everyone before even he thrived and carried on. His father's lands had grown in wealth and stature within the last few years, and their fleets were the quickest in all the neighboring lands. Jealousy, envy had seeped over the French alps and weaved into the valleys and streams like a virus as whispers of war carried throughout.There was tension in the air, although unspoken, and it was as if the sea itself was hurling itself against the barricading boulders and rocks too. It feeling as if it had a say in these times, having to swallow the blood and many spirits that lingered over her crescent shores. Ella could never understand such hearts, and she whimpered in thoughts of what may come. Biter greed and darkened hearts rippled upon her soul like sharp thorns whipping against her flesh and reminded her of her stepmother's cold stone heart. Maybe they could escape and live among the fae she danced with, be released from this talons claw, and go to a place where only love and dreams exist and raise a family of their own.

》Credit: Ashleigh 《#AshTem Full Name:Black Pearl/Bella Pearl   Age:10,000   Birthday:10.01   Sexuality:bi   Occupation:Black Rosas Pearl   Appearance:picturea4ft tall   Good Traits:happy •nice •sweet  •caring •loving •upbeat    Bad Traits:anxious •shy •depressed •sad •mad   Secret Traits:lonely   Likes:men •futas •sex •Steven •huge d*cks   Dislikes:rudeness   Hobbies:dancing •fighting •singing •drawing   Habits:biting    Facts about them:omega •goes into heat at random   Historyn/a   Relationshipsn/a   Theme SongSteven Universe AMV - "Hope of Morning" - YouTube

The world of Arda was one that others might call a world of fantasy, of elves, dwarves, hobbits, goblins, wizards and orcs, the promise that such a world actually existed seemed to be minuscule at best and impossible at worst for those who did not travel far from their home. But it was perhaps the world of imagination that was the most likely possible, especially within the vast expanse of space and time. With seemingly infinite worlds beyond the stars one could potentially meet anything, so who was to say that our own dreams were not a reality somewhere in that infinite?Lesley Surin stood on the hilltop near the hut in which she lived, she had chosen this place for it's expansive foraging potential and the river conveniently ran nearby. She had hoped some time ago that there she might figure out the cure for her ailing world, the illness that had claimed many took hold with fever and cough, and it seemed it affected everything that breathed air. She had retreated to the mountains to seek the remedy and found it in the flower simbelmyne, but when she had searched for others to cure... it was too late. Many were gone or past saving, and Lesley wandered the long roads of many realms and towns only to find that she was the soul survivor. That fate should play such a cruel trick on her seemed surreal and she often thought for some time that she was in a bad dream, or that she had somehow done something to anger the Valar, the gods of her world, to condemn her to this last bit of torture.The only thing that kept her going was the efforts to preserve her world's history, especially in that of her father's kin. She was a dwelf, half of dwarf and of elf blood, daughter of a renown dwarf craftsman Narvi and granddaughter of the elven lord Celebrimbor. Her beliefs in the halls of Mandos as an afterlife and the prospect of Durin some day waking once more from his slumber to rekindle the line of dwarven folk spurred her on to try and document, bury and honor anyone and everyone she came across, be they dwarf, elf or hobbit kind. This, of course, seemed a futile effort, a mere dent could not be made by a single person, but though it seemed an impossible task, she took it on, her survivor's guilt compelling her towards the work that gave her a purpose as an amends to her failure to her world.The horizon seemed red in the dusk of evening, she was searching for something to eat, some plant matter of some sort, as there was no animal life left, there was not even a birdsong to hear. Surprisingly the plants were not affected by this ailment that hung over Middle-Earth, and she was able to find some wild garlic and mushrooms. Carrying them in a basket she paused in her step, about to make her way home when something caught her eye. What she could only surmise as a piece of the horizon's painting falling from the sky was actually a shuttle, she was unaware that beyond the stars someone had taken an interest in her lonely world, and that they had some trouble transporting to the surface of the Mithril riddled planet, for even the small craft seemed to struggle with the pull of the metal's field. As the shuttle came down at a great speed to disappear behind the trees of Fangorn Forest she stared with wide eyes, uncertain what magic had suddenly come to play. Is this the awakening of Durin? She thought to herself as she startled and began to run towards the forest, her curiosity and the need to help governing over her caution as she made her way to the place she last saw the vessel.

7am - Wake up, meditate, shower and get ready.   8am - Breakfast at Mr. Mamas.   9am - Red Rock Canyon, take some photos.   10am - Explore The Mob Museum.   11am - Explore Bellagio Conservatory & Botanical Gardens   12.30pm - Lunch at Tacos El Gordo.   1.30pm - Hoover Dam to take photos.   2pm - Springs Preserve to look around and maybe take some photos of the experience.   3pm - Hot air balloon ride. So fun!   4pm - Explore The National Atomic Testing Museum.   5pm - Back to the hotel for a Power Nap to recharge.   6pm - Shower and get ready for a night of fun.   6.30pm - Dinner at Edge Steakhouse.   7.30pm - Shin Lin magic show.   9.30pm - RuPaul’s Drag Race Live   11pm - Oak & Ivy for cocktails.   1am - After the bar closes return to the hotel. Get on my pj’s, take makeup off and throw hair up into a messy bun.   1.30am - Catch some zzzzz’s  

1)Jaina Solo-Fel:Family: Mother-Leia Solo|Father-Han SoloGrandparents-Anakin Skywalker|Padme AmidalaBrothers-Jacen Solo and Anakin SoloHusband-Jagged FelUncle-Luke SkywalkerAunt-Mara JadeNicknames-Yun-Harla|Sword of the JediOccupation-Jedi, Pilot, Empress of the Fel Empire  2)Rav BralorHusband  3)Dorme  4)Sabe  5)Shoria Ariea  6)Arla Fett 7)Sintas Vel 8)Mirta Gev 9)Besany Wennen 10)Ruusaan Skirata 11)Sache 12)Ahsoka13)Alania Noroga Al'Oute14)Katsume Noroga Skywalker 

11am - Finally woke up from the wild night before.   12pm - Brunch at Bouchon   1pm - Madame Tussauds   3pm - Gondola Ride   3.30pm - Explore the Venetian area   5pm - High Roller   5.50 pm - Back to the hotel for a nap.   7pm - Shower and get ready   8pm - Dinner at Primal Steakhouse   9pm - Downtown Cocktail Room for some cocktails   9.30pm - Mystère by Cirque du Soleil   10.30pm - OMNIA night club   4.00am - Return to the hotel after the nightclub closes. Take off makeup and brush hair and throw it up into a messy bun.   4.30am - Go to sleep

01. Let's just get this out of the way now. Even though I consider Bill to be my main account.  I can not be online 24/7. I work a physically demanding job during the week and I care for two sick parents. Also I have a life away from this place. I will be here if time or muse hits. I don't like forcing out half handed starters or replies because of a time quota. If you can't be patient please delete me.02. I am a multi-para writer but known to dabble into novella territory when inspired to do so. Even though I do prefer to write in groups I will rp in comments. Messages are strictly for plotting. I do look over spelling and grammar errors due to my own imperfections.03. My version of Bill Compton is strictly based from the show True Blood. I have gone AU with in the sense that he's still the King of Louisiana and he had ended up taking the cure for Hep V. So no he didn't die in the finale, obviously. (Sorry if this is a spoiler.)04. I will say this now I am a grown man well over the age of 21. That will be reflected in the themes I allow in my writing.  Especially since I write themes of gore, blood drinking, violence, adult language. Maturity on here is important to me. I will not put up with immature bullsh*t of any kind. If you can't act your age. I will remove you. By the way if you are under the age of 18, turn back now since I do not write with minors.05. At the time of this blog post. I am involved four RPGS-- The Catacombs (which I co-own), Danse Macabre, Infernal and The Book of Dreams. My obligations to those groups will always come first. Please understand that.06. Just to nip this in the bud.  Yes I am shipped. I'm paired with  Sookie Stackhouse (Perceptive Ivory) who is my real life girlfriend who I love very much. Even though I may add other Sookie Stackhouses it will just be platonic storylines. If you added hoping to ship with Bill, sorry for the disappointment but this isn't changing any time soon.  Please respect this. If not I will remove you. 07. So I am not one to stick to their own verse. I just find it very restrictive. I will do crossovers as I love them. Verses I am particular keen to rp are within supernatural, sci-fi, fantasy and comic book realm but I'll add anyone as long as its plausiable to rp together. 08. Above all else please have fun and keep this place positive this is my most important rule. I do not like toxicity, bullying or negativity of any kind. If you're not here to write and keep things pleasant then I don't want you on my page.Happy musing and looking forward to writing with you.

I don't do connections, or limit my character to one love interest. I am multi-ship. Meaning every story is separate. I'm part of this dying breed of roleplayers. So if you're single-ship, there's the door.Here, I am seeking a male character willing (unwillingly for more tension) to undergo a turbulent, long-term relationship. Amy may be a royal pain, but she promises not to be boring. If swayed correctly, she can be loyal and assertive. She wields the ability to soften most hearts. Unable to deliberately hurt anyone, the few times she did, Amy was as drunk as a skunk.I can be swayed toward a plot involving Amy in a short-term romance with another female character. The twist could be a male character of your choice coming into the story to fall in love with Amy.Putting her promiscuous lifestyle to rest has proven to be a real challenge so far for her. But Amy has found very few men she has dated are willing to love her for her, not her high social status. That goes for friendships, those who hang around her for what she has, and nothing more.What she wants more than anything in the world is to be a mother. But she has a lot of work on her plate to finish. First and foremost, her dependency on alcohol. Amy drinks to get through her day-to-day life, seldom is she seen sober. For several years now she has been engaged in a seesaw battle with anorexia and bulimia. Eating disorders and alcoholism are slowly killing her, and she is running out of time. But when you're depressed enough, your self-awareness plummets.Over the years, Amy had experienced several attempts at rehabilitation, but they all led to relapse after relapse. She had already achieved victory over her addiction to crack and heroin three years prior. The right motivation and a roadmap to improve her life are the key.Independence is one major thing she needs to find some happiness. That is if she no longer needs to be babysat by friends or her bodyguards because she cannot look after herself. Recklessness almost cost her life numerous times previously. Once being married to a trainwreck had no positive influence.I'm not opposed to the idea of Amy potentially exploring other genres of music. Gravitating her toward rock has been on my mind. Vocals aside, she is quite skilled on the guitar, the bass, and recently, she took up learning the drums. She is a fast learner who loves picking up new skills.I don't want to make a bunch of rules. Just don't be a dlck. I do not intend to sound like one, but I get sick and tired of repeating myself.I only write in the third person and past tense. I'd very much prefer you did, too. First-person is a dealbreaker for me. It's creepy. If you cannot at least write more than two engaging paragraphs, I don't think we will be a fit. I do believe in quality over quantity, but there isn't much you can put in liners to keep me invested. No in-character chat in DMs. I'd like plot and write there. If you're an engaging novella writer, that's a big plus for me. However, if you cannot at least try to mirror my effort, then f*** off. Don't waste my time.Also, I'm fine with friends I don't write with!

Female, 26 years old. I have been roleplaying for over ten years and have been in roleplaying communities for five. I started learning to read at a very young age, and aced spelling bees in school. I had a college reading level by the time I was in fourth grade. However, PTSD, dyslexia, and memory loss have hindered my reading and writing abilities a bit.If I stop replying to you it's likely because my mind is too occupied, or simply, I find you boring. Not introducing yourself and shooting me a mundane "Hey, how's it going" or "I'm interested, I'll do anything" isn't going to get my attention. I need much more than that. What tickles your fancy, what you want from a roleplay partner, all that good stuff. It seems like many roleplayers are just f***ing clueless about themselves as writers, uncreative, and stick to what is popular. It's a huge bore. If I don't know what character you're using, don't expect me to develop ideas by myself. I've done enough of that sh*t. You need to put the work in, too. I don't get this trend of having "adaptable" characters and then having no clue how you're doing to fit them in each story. that is why cemented roleplay muses are an option. You can't please everyone.I don't roleplay to date! You wanna be friends? Cool. Nothing more. Stop hitting on me out of character. I'm taken in real life and I'm not a cheater.

{ALL GENERAL DETAILS}FIRST: AdrianMIDDLE: FahrenheitLAST: Tepes / DraculNAME USED: AlucardMEANING: Anti-Dracula OTHER NAME{S}: Adrian Dracul, Alucard TepesTITLE{S}: Prince of Vampires, Prince of Transylvania NICKNAME{S}: Al Tepes, Dark PrinceAGE: Unknown. Looks around 21-25yrsDOB: 11/18/1456SIGN: ScorpioSEASON: AutumnSTONE: Citrine / Yellow TopazRACE: DhampyrSEX IDENTITY: MaleORIENTATION: Bisexual~POSITION: SwitchPROFESSION: Vampire Hunter PERSONALITY: Depends on who he is with and what he is doing. He can be a charming prince or a walking nightmare. Sometimes somewhere in between. {PHYSICAL APPEARENCE}APPEAL: Attractive, YouthfulNATIONALITY: RomanianHEIGHT: 5'10"WEIGHT: 180lbsBODY TYPE: Slender, Lean buildSKIN TONE: Pale, LuminousTATTOOS: None.PIERCINGS: None.EYE COLOR: Sapphire BlueOTHER COLORS: Red, Dark HAIR COLOR: BlackSTYLE: Straight wavy LENGTH: Varies from short to shoulder lengthFACE: More angular than round. Usually no beard, but sometimes has a beard. {POWERS}SHAPESHIFTING: Phase his physical body into a wolf, snake, hellhound, bat & mist. HELLFIRE: Control, summon & manipulate the fire from Hell.DARK MAGIC: Spells of the dark mystic arts are at his finger tips. HEALING: Ability to heal himself much quicker than a human rate.BLOODBIND: Connect someone to him through them consuming his blood. HEIGHTENED SENSES: All of his senses are superior since he is part vampire. {Note: Under Construction status. I will add more details to this blog gradually!} 

01. Let's just get this out of the way now. I'm not going to be online 24/7. Don't get me wrong, I love Star Wars but this is not my main page or verse. I also work a physically demanding job and live/help out with my two very ill parents who require it. Not to mention my life isn't lived behind a computer screen and I do have outdoor activities i enjoy which do include traveling from time to time. I'll be here when muse allows.02. I am a multi-para writer but known to dabble into novella territory when inspired to do so. Even though I do prefer to write in groups I will rp in comments. Messages are strictly for plotting.03. My version of Anakin Skywalker is very canon to the prequel movies and the Clone Wars with some AU elements. The AU being that he fought Obi Wan to a draw on Mustafar in Episode III rather than losing and being gravely injured which led to him being incased in the suit. So yes I will rp him as a jedi knight and having turned to the Dark Side. It's your choice on which option you'd like to go.04. I will say this now I am a grown man well over the age of 21. That will be reflected in the themes I allow in my writing. Maturity on here is important to me. I will not put up with immature bullsh*t of any kind. If you can't act your age. I will remove you. By the way if you are under the age of 18, turn back now since I do not write with minors.05. I am a member of The Catacombs RPG. I will say this that my priority to the group will always come first. Even though I will write with non group members.06. So shipping? Normally, I do pair with my girlfriend who writes with me. However on this account I do believe I'm keeping Anakin open to the possibility of shipping with someone else unless of course my S.O wishes to change her mind. So as of now I guess you can say I'm unattached or multi-li until I find a love interest.  Chemistry is important, do not force a pairing, even if rp as Padme.  I could very well pair with Padme or someone not from my verse. Please remember though this is roleplay. Not real life.Do not mistake any romantic interaction or situation for wanting a real life relationship with you. Again I have a girlfriend whom I madly in love with. If you cross a boundary with me, I will end the ship and our writing together. Period. 07. So I am not one to stick to their own verse. I just find it very restrictive. I will do crossovers as I love them. Verses I am particular keen to rp with include -- Star Trek,  Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts, Battlestar Galactica, Doctor Who, DC & Marvel Comics, Buffy, Charmed and verses similar to those. So feel free to add me. 08. Above all else please have fun and keep this place positive this is my most important rule. I do not like toxicity, bullying or negativity of any kind. If you're not here to write and keep things pleasant then I don't want you on my page.May The Force Be WIth You!

Rules Don't spam for replies, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Keep Drama IC, never bring it OOC. Please do not try to control my character.. I will not do roleplay that involves minors, slavery, abuse, OVERLY toxic relationships, blood related, bathroom play, weapon play/blood play. Discrimination of any type is not welcomed here.  Welcomed Crossovers/Connections Supernatural (TV Show)  9-1-1 / 9-1-1 Lone Star Chicago Fire/Med The Rookie Grey's Anatomy Army Wives Desperate Housewives Celebrity/Escort/FWB  Most Taboo (no blood relation)  

A  Good  Mother While Regina was still trying to make peace with Emma, and had little interest in doing so with the Charmings she was making a connection with someone else close to Henry. Neal. Now not only did Henry have Emma but now he had his biological father as well. Most would assume Regina saw this as just another threat to her relationship with Henry but on the contrary, she detected no threat from Neal. Perhaps it was because he was a man, he wasn't trying to swoop in and steal her role in Henry's life as she felt Emma was.With Henry away for the night with Emma, Regina had invited Neal over to her home so they could discuss his involvement with Henry as well as get to know about Henry's life. Neal seemed interested in it all, his past with Regina, how he came to be adopted by her. Emma on the other hand had had little interest in all of that.After a few glasses of wine, and some food, Regina and Neal sat in front of the fireplace, scrapbooks just strewn around them, each marking a year in Henry's life. "You've kept it all organized." Neal said as he lazily flipped through one of the books, Henry's eighth year. Regina only gave a slight nod. "I never wanted to miss a moment." She confessed. "He was.. is everything to me."Neal in return gave a nod. "I can see that. I'm glad he has you. He looks like he's had a great life." Neal pointed out with a smile. "He seemed real happy." Regina only sighed softly. "Until he was ten. I.. had lied to him. I allowed him to believe he was my natural son. And that his father was Daniel, my late fiance. When he found the adoption papers it rocked his entire life. And after that, all I did was make mistakes trying to keep him." She admitted."All parents make mistakes. I mean look at my old man." He said. Regina gave a nod "what he did was more than a mistake. To let his own son go just to retain his power." She said shaking her head. "I'd give up everything for Henry. My magic, power, hell I'd die for him if needed." She said so effortlessly.Regina's love for Henry seemed so true, so pure, and without a single shred of doubt. Neal could see that. It was something he was beginning to find incredibly attractive in Regina. It was something he had never seen in his own mother much less his father. "You're a good mother Regina. Whatever you did in the past.. well you're trying to be better for Henry. I think it's safe to say that's more than either of our parents ever did for us."Regina again left a soft sigh out as she took a sip of her wine. Neal was right in his assessment. Her own mother Cora had been so awful, she never would do to Henry what Cora had done to her. And her father, Henry Sr. While he had been loving and supportive he had never protected Regina, not like a father should.Looking to Neal a small smile spread across Regina's face. "Whatever does happen.. I'd like for you to be a part of Henry's life Neal. For too long he's been deprived of a father son relationship. And it's something I can't give him." She said shrugging a little before holding up her glass to Neal. "To the future.. with Henry." Returning her smile Neal held his glass up, gently clinking it with hers before then taking a sip. "To the future Regina."   template credit.