#bio lsrpg
Text
August 1st 2023;
A North Korean ship was spotted dead in the water outside the New York City harbor. The first two teams sent out to investigate disappeared without word, and eventually the Coast Guard towed the ship to shore. The moment that she landed, the outbreak started – hoards of the undead flooding from the rusted depths of the dead ship and spilling over onto the docks. Within a week the entire city had been overrun, forcing survivors into hiding inside and on top of buildings. Now, two weeks since the infection started, the power has finally gone out for the last time, fresh water is no longer being pumped through the pipes beneath the city, and the only movement in the streets are from the thousands of zombies that mill around waiting for something fresh and living to devour.
Trapped inside the historical twelve story apartment affectionately named “The Wexley”, known for it’s mishmash of architectural styles that somehow make it charmingly ugly, it’s residents are doing what they can to survive until help comes. Or until they’re forced to leave their fortress of glass and stone. All they know is that sooner or later it’s going to be time to say Goodbye to New York City
Home || Ask || Characters || Full Plot
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dear destinguished allies,
It is with great sorrow that I find myself penning this corrispondance in responce to the fateful event a faughtnight ago.
While I am yet to receive word from the minister in respond to my letters regarding the growing situation, with their silence looms the notion that not everything is as clear as it may seem. Typically, those affected by lycanthropy often, if they are able to, have things in place to prevent attacks such as this happening. Leaving the ever looming question, who is the human behind the face of the wolf and furthermore what were they doing in diagon alley during a full moon.
It should come as no surprise when I write that it would be foolish to presume Voldemort does not have a hand to play in this ever changing game. Praying on the weak, scared and vulnerable, now more than before it is virtual to keep wits sharp and wands close at hand.
With that, I emplore you all to seek action. Acquaint yourselves with the victims, while offering them comfort piece together the evening from their perspective. Equally, befriending those close to them - if possible - to make note of their afflicted lycanthropy dentanies gained from the scratches. Be cautious as it may leave them anxious, aggrivated and seeking assistantance with the looming moon at the end of the month.
Of course the most important of all need it be said, is finding the anonymous werewolf before they cause more harm to others but equally to themselves. We will not be the only ones looking for them, but it is virtual that they do not fall into the wrong hands. Note their fur, their eyes from that night, their size. All curious points to start. I am appointing ANNABETH PEBWORTH [@unravellingannabeth] as the lead on this investigation with ARTHUR WEASLEY [@arthurweaslcys] as their second after their valiance during the equinox. Please seek their corrispondance for leadership. Be cautious my friends, I fear turbulent times lie ahead of us all.
May merlin keep you safe,
Albus Dumbledore
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cyrene Meadowforge (she/her). Trainer. D1. Twenty-Five. Ayaka Miyoshi.
Cyrene Meadowforge was not born; she was made.
A hand picked charity case straight out of an orphanage in District One, her name was changed to fit a theme, her purpose in life redirected with artful intent. It was not easy to make a spare seem like the opposite, like their own person, but Fleur and Myron Meadowforge masterfully handled the difficult task. Their first born daughter Cressida would do best with a friend her own age - or much better yet, a practical twin.
So, they were raised together, played together, ate together and caused mischief together. Cressida with that air of bright lightness around her, blonde locks, rosy cheeks and lips. Cyrene with jet black hair and something more quiet, held back painting her aura with something decidedly heavier. Whatever the Meadowforges had hoped for came true, more so than just that. As children, even as young teenagers, the two of them were inseparable, even as a third joined their sisterhood, welcomed with open arms.
The Academy, finally, was where their rather different personalities began to crystallise.
Cyrene was no fan of the theatrics, the showmanship that some of the trainers funnelled into their classes. Her own style of fighting was elegant, though still almost clinical in its execution. A punch, kick, stab and slice all dealt calculated damage. Guns were professional, knives were personal. Blunt objects were good in a surprise attack, and no one brought a spear to a gunfight. Every single weapon and movement had its purpose, its strengths and weaknesses. Cyrene cared not for who she impressed, but what the results of her movements and decisions were.
Cressida, however, excelled at showmanship. The 120th Hunger Games had her sister’s name written all over it. The sparkling diamond from District One who did not only take the Capitol in storm, but also the Arena. Cyrene watched the girl she’d grown up beside bring people to their knees with a mere look, others with sweetened words and yet another with empty promises. Theatrics suited her sister, though as Cyrene kept watching - and she watched every free second she got, intently and running on far too little hours of sleep - she noticed that Cressida’s image on screen wasn’t the one she was used to. There was something off, something almost a little fuzzy around the edges.
She watched Cressida rise from the Arena victorious, but simultaneously realised that she wasn’t going to get the sister back that she’d sent off.
Cyrene had never hated being right until the very moment that Cressida turned into Cress, the Capitol socialite and starlet leaving her behind in District One with their parents and younger sister.
They didn’t not see one another, though from her victory onwards, what had once been a deep connection felt more shallow, drained of the joint experiences that had saturated their bond before. Cress and Cyrene lived wholly separate, wholly different lives now.
The Games had taken something from her, warped it and given it back as an unreachable, cruelly tempting version. Her sister was right there, almost close enough to touch, but far away at the same time. Cyrene saw Cress on TV. Cress saw a camera lens.
It was on her now, to find her own identity, no longer attached to someone at the hip. A spare set free, she found the world to be a different place than she’d been raised to believe. The Games weren’t glorious, the Capitol shiny and gleaming at the surface, but after a closer look the diamonds were made of glass, the golden jewellery nothing but gilded metal.
There wasn’t much to be done with Cyrene’s dislike of the Games. That was, until The Vox gained steadily in popularity. At first there were only whispers, barely intelligible, drifting by on a breeze, but she managed to follow the crumbs of information until there was finally something tangible right in front of her. Fighting in Eleven, printed rebellious words on paper, executions in the Capitol. Cyrene could put her finger on something and follow the trail until she was finally at a place where felt like she belonged, making use of that Academy education for nothing other than the purpose of tearing it all down.
And then, come 134, Callisto volunteered. Cyrene’s heart beat all the way up in her throat as she watched her youngest sister go up to that stage proudly, walk towards the other part of their trio that had never come back the same again. Knowing that she couldn’t let yet another loved one go to the Capitol and watch them change from afar, Cyrene begged her parents to get her a job in the Capitol, pleading and promising that no one was better fit to train the tributes from One than herself, if her grades in the Academy were anything to go by.
Short discussions and long numbers on cheques later, Cyrene found herself on a train to the Capitol.
Because money could buy many things - all in exchange for a soul.
Three strengths and three weaknesses?
( + ) perceptive, methodical, loyal
( – ) closed off, cynical, critical
5 notes
·
View notes
Photo
WE’RE BACK for a second season ! AND our NEXT EVENT will be there SOON.
We have been posting a set of brand new skeletons over the course of the past week and some more will drop soon so keep your eyes on the blog !
LONDON FALLING is a crime and political RP focusing on the troubled lives of the city’s inhabitants, from the upper reaches to the lower reaches of London. In London Falling, you can write criminals, politicians, civilians, media oriented characters and many more.
We offer a wide variety selection of skeletons and roles
APPLY NOW with our skeletons or one of your OCs !
#crime rp#oc rp#lsrpg#semi appless rp#bio roleplay#mafia rp#mob rp#appless rp#crime roleplay#skeleton rp
4 notes
·
View notes
Photo
LONDON FALLING a crime and political roleplay. (x)
LONDON FALLING is a new original crime and political roleplay inspired by mystery novels and noir films. You’ll also find references to classic British literature in some of the names we picked for our criminal gangs.
2003 - A treaty is signed between the elected leaders and the two major gangs of London. One group vows to be discreet, the other to leave them room to breath. One group gains the civilians’ approval while the other thrives in the shadows.
Just as good things must come to an end, no bad deed goes unpunished.
2022 - A journalist, a whistleblower, a detective, or even a concerned citizen could uncover it all.
As for the criminals, they start to feel cramped, confined to a realm of shadow and darkness when they’ve done nothing but thrive for all these years. Made stronger by the agreement, they no longer need it to survive.
The Times unveiled THE TRUTH regarding the 2003 treaty and now the structure of a whole city is threatened.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
WELCOME TO ALBION.
Nestled in the foothills of the Hatchett Mountains, a magical little town has thrived for generations, keeping the old ways of magic, fate, and balance alive. Throughout, many of her children have left, pursuing bright futures and bigger worlds. What happens when they are called to return?
❈ START HERE!
❈ RULES & EXPECTATIONS.
❈ PLOT.
❈ MAGIC IN ALBION.
❈ WANTED CHARACTERS.
❈ FACECLAIMS.
❈ FREQUENTLY ANSWERED QUESTIONS.
❈ APPLICATION.
The train arrives at St. Catherine's Depot each Saturday.
----
Welcome to Spooky Little Town! Take a moment, click around. We’re accepting applications now!
Have questions? Be sure to check out the FAQ. If your question isn't in there, send us an ask! We aren’t turning anon messages on, but trust: we'll answer your ask without reblogging it.
#period rp#skeleton rp#literate rp#lsrpg#lsrp#magic rp#magical rp#supernatural rp#historical rp#bio rp#albion;announcement
4 notes
·
View notes
Photo
〔 ROBCO INDUSTRIES (TM) TERMLINK PROTOCOL 〕
› › › LOADING HOLOTAPE . . .
It’s 2287, and doomsday has long come and gone. What’s left are the radiation-laced ashes of what used to be the hopeful, technologically-thriving USA of 2077 — yet some 200 YEARS later and humanity still scavenges, suffers & fights merely for the right to survive. If braving the desolate wasteland of Massachusetts and its endless IRRADIATED HORRORS doesn’t kill you, trying to seek shelter in post-nuclear Boston will ensure humanity’s cruelest and most depraved raiders will.
☢ SO COME TAKE REFUGE IN GOODNEIGHBOR !
› › › CLOSED, LITERATE POST-APOCALYTPIC RP GROUP.
› › › BASED ON THE UNIVERSE & SETTING OF THE FALLOUT 4 VIDEO GAME.
› › › CLICK THE SOURCE LINK OR CHECK THIS BLOG TO BE REDIRECTED !
#fallout rp#fallout 4 rp#oc rp#new rp#rp promo#rpg ad#rp ad#lsrpg#video game rp#tumblr rp#para rp#lsrp#literate rp#town rp#supernatural rp#skeleton rp#crime rp#bio rp#dark rp
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
WELCOME TO NOVA, TERPSICHORE "RHODESY" RHODES.
Character age: 45
Character birthday: December 21st
Gender identity: ciswoman
Pronouns: she/her/hers
Character face-claim: Ruth Connell
Clan of origin: Sylvania
Occupation at Nova: Structural Engineer
Bio: Terpsichore was raised a dutiful member of Sylvanian culture. Support each other. Learn to defend yourself so you can defend others. Find your niche. Much like a beehive, Sylvanians knew their intricate relationships to nature and to other members of the clan.
Sichore was more studious than her older siblings. She was the only one of four children to graduate from the school system, and combined with her "frivolous" talent for art, found her way into engineering. Over time, she designed some of the most important buildings in Sylvania - from granaries to homes, from bunkers to safehouses. Soon she was teaching others her ways, her designs, her style.
She also became one of the few people with the closest connection to the Fall. Her grandparents lived through it in a way that most of the population, young as they were, were only told stories of it. And the virus was present in her life - it claimed her oldest brother Hector, who, in turn, killed their father during his transformation.
When Nova was announced, she was asked to apply by the elders of the clan. Buildings would need designing in the new colony, and impressing Sylvanian style and culture into the new world appealed to them. Perhaps traveling into a new world wasn't Sichore's first and favorite choice, but she was being assigned a mission, and like a dutiful bee, she would go.
Known around town as a bit of a "free thinker," Terpsichore had never quite fit in with the perfect drumbeat of the hive. Perhaps it was the sudden tragedy of Hector and her father, perhaps it was the love of her life disappearing on a hunting trip, or perhaps it was the feeling that she was being pressured to leave a space she had helped build, now that they had a host of architects and engineers she had trained. But something about Sylvania was pressed into her skull, and the idea of Nova wasn't a way out - it was the knife she was being told to fall on.
In a way, though, this could be freeing. Free to be whoever - whatever - she'd like. Sichoree sees Nova as a chance to reinvent, to experiment, to explore. And she can do so every week if she'd like. After all, it's her world to build now.
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
the upper east side was like something
out of fitzgerald or thackery...
...The drinks flow, party in full swing — All interrupted by a chorus of cell phones pinging for a notification. Every heart in the room drops and an all too familiar panic settles in. An unfortunate reality settles in as heads look among the crowd, attempting to find the culprit of the notification. After ten long years, the infamous anonymous blogger’s hiatus comes to an abrupt end...
GOSSIPGIRL HAS SHARED A NEW POST.
membership in this community was so elite,
you couldn’t even buy your way in.
MANHATTANSELITEHQ is an OC RP, based upon skeletons directly inspired by the original Gossip Girl show and books, as well as the HBO reboot.
IT WAS A BIRTH RIGHT.
1 note
·
View note
Photo
Tomas Hardy (Sage) and Libby Blum (Swan) seek their daughter-in-law, who is also cousin to Jovi George (Orbit) and the niece of Jupiter George (Intrigue).
Label: UTP
Name: Kalia [surname UTP]
Birthdate: circa 1984, give or take about 8 years
Gender: UTP
Group: UTP
Faceclaim: Naomi Ackie (suggested but can be changed to any woc)
Bio: Out in the real world, Kalia is the wife of Miriam Hernandez, the eldest daughter of @sagetomashardy and @libbyblum. She is an entertainment lawyer but this can be changed if desired. She is also the niece of @jupitergeorge and the cousin of Jupiter’s son, @jovigeorge. Plenty of scope for her backstory with this one!
Contact you? Yes please! Contact @sagetomashardy
#wanted connections#lsrp#lsrpg#literate rp#established rp#town rp#supernatural town rp#island rp#rp#rpg#roleplay#naomi ackie#bio rp
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gloria Gallo (she/her) is a 128 year old Leoran who works as a member of the Sotiris Council and looks a lot like Shohreh Aghdashloo. She is a Truegold with a sword goldsign.
Biography
When someone maliciously attempts to put another in their place, it's amazing how often that place is far higher than their own.
At least, that’s been Gloria’s experience. The ‘Utopia’ of Leora may have looked pristine from an outworlder prospective, but she’d seen the ugliness in the hearts of her fellow Leorans at a young age. She’d proven herself. To her parents, to her teachers, to her peers. Everyone had always underestimated little Gloria, especially given her stutter, but she’d seen their pity as a challenge and grown into a force. Now, as the Collective takes step after step into her planet, she cannot help but rile at the injustice. Years she’s spent on the council. Years she’d toiled and lobbied and persuaded until her throat was raw from the effort... and for what? Policies years in the making and decades as law were undone in moments by these outsiders.
Everyone had a right to an opinion. Food, housing, employment, safety, these were necessities any should be allowed. But did that extend to outworlders? They didn’t belong here, they could go back to their own homes. Why did they have to come here? Why here, where their very presence had undone so much of the council’s work? What else were they going to change?
She’d gone from one of the most influential people on the island’s council to one of the most powerful people on the planet and yet she couldn’t help but feel it was wrong. Was the power even truly hers, or was she just another puppet for the Collective council to parade in front of her people as a symbol? The only thing she knew for sure was that if she was a puppet, she’d be the most obstinate one they’d ever had the misfortune of finding.
Personality
Gloria Gallo is nothing if not intransigent. She smiles easily and praises often, but only when others truly deserve her words of encouragement. Should they deserve a verbal lashing, she’ll gladly supply that as well. Her mood hovers around neutral, though it’s leaned a little more towards waspish since the arrival of the Collective on Leora. Gloria may be a reasonable and intelligent woman, but she’s been having difficulty not viewing any and all outworlders as invaders.
This character is an npc based at @sotirisdeleora
4 notes
·
View notes
Photo
“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE ADVOCATE get what he deserves?” He was NEUTRAL & is sadly DECEASED.“
— he walked through the world as ;
name → Booker Bagnold
pronouns → he/him
identification → cis-male
year of birth → 1957-1958
face claim → jordan bolger
blood status → pure-blood
sexual orientation → heterosexual
occupation → representative for the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures
future information → n/a
deceased → 31st October 1982
— he was best described as ;
The EARTHY smell of heavy RAIN hitting dirt, mixed with SWEETNESS of freshly cut FLOWERS and the warm secent of PARCHEMENT. He is the ECLECTIC music playing from a RECORD as an echoing laugh brings joy to the room. He is the CARING & LOYAL shoulder to cry on, offering SUPPORT & ENCOURGEMENT. The OPTIMISM of those ready to break the mould, INSPIRING those around him to strive for GREATNESS.
— his story started with ;
Booker Bagnold was a truly remarkable individual, whose kind and loyal nature endeared him to all who had the pleasure of knowing him. His heart was so deep and giving that it was impossible for him to stop spreading inspiration wherever he went. The younger child of MILLICENT BAGNOLD [mother], the then-Senior Undersecretary to The Minister for Magic, and Rutherford Bagnold, a wizarding tech genius, Booker's childhood was one of pure bliss. Although his older brother, HARRISON BAGNOLD [sibling], was a bit of a brooder and didn't spend much time with him, Booker still held him in high regard. They lived in a modern home in Wimbledon, and Booker cherished his room – his safe space – which had a breathtaking view of the green belt that ran behind their house. He would spend hours gazing out the window, watching the animals frolic in the forest and occasionally catching sight of a magical creature. The Bagnold family had a penchant for travel, and they frequently embarked on adventures to international Quidditch games and Millicent's birthplace in Ireland.
During the summer holiday before Booker was set to embark on his first year at Hogwarts, he vividly recalled a conversation with Harrison. The latter was preparing for an event, and let out a heavy sigh before revealing that when he was Booker's age, their parents were hardly ever present in his life. Unlike Booker, he was compelled to attend numerous events and they never went on any trips together. However, Harrison pointed out that their parents had a complete change of heart after Booker's birth. Booker, being the compassionate person he was, tried to consolidate him, but despite his efforts Harrison vehemently disagreed, insisting that their parents simply loved Booker more. Unfortunately, this remark struck a chord with Booker, and he began to feel guilty for how his parents treated him. Booker began to blame himself for Harrison not having the same childhood experiences as him and became more in on himself in their presence, declining their offers to enjoy himself instead standing by his brother’s side dutifully in the hope to make it up to him.
Sorted into Hufflepuff, he was ushered to his dorm deep within the castle. It was there that he met his soon-to-be best friend, EDWARD TONKS [best friend], they connected instantly and their friendship stayed strong throughout Hogwarts and into adulthood. Being a loyal friend, along with his disliking of injustice, Booker often found himself standing up for Ted against bullies like RABASTAN LESTRANGE [adversary] and his group of friends, CAIUS BURKE [adversary], XERXES ZABINI [adversary], AURELIA ROOKWOOD [adversary] and KERVENS BORGIN [adversary]. His stance and advocacy lead to him making other friends along the way including ELIZABETH BRAITHWAITE [close friend], MARIANNE MACMILLAN [friend], LAURENCE ABBOTT [friend], and CELIA ABBOTT [friend/potential love interest]. But he found a real friend in LANA CROUCH [best friend] though his interests. He saw a lot of himself in Lana, she was a bright girl lost in a big family trying to find her way, which he noticed she did when she began taking an interest in magical creatures, much to Booker’s delight. When he wasn’t caring for magical creatures in the forest with Hagrid or reading up on them in the library with Lana, he was pouring himself over Celia, their relationship blossoming into something more than just a friendship.
Booker Bagnold's infatuation with Celia lingered beyond the walls of Hogwarts, and into their twenties. Meanwhile, Booker's passion for magical creatures had paid off, and he landed a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures alongside Lana, and it wasn’t long before Booker found himself in the being division which dealt with magical creatures that possessed human-like intellect, including werewolves, vampires, giants, and centaurs. However, Booker was quickly disillusioned by the rampant discrimination he encountered in the wizarding community towards these creatures. He was appalled by the way his colleagues, like WALDEN MCNAIR [adversary] treated injured werewolves and altered centaur testimonies to fit the wizarding community's expectations. These creatures were sentient beings who deserved to be treated with respect and dignity, and Booker reported these incidents to Aurors such as HESTIA JONES [acquaintance] and barristers like RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE [acquaintance]. Unfortunately, their responses were unsatisfactory, always too busy to listen to him and tied up in other projects. Soon Booker realised that he needed to take more drastic measures to aid magical beings in the wizarding community.
Fortunately, his mother had been appointed Minister for Magic at this time, and he arranged a meeting with her to voice his concerns and suggestions. While she was receptive, she requested that Booker gather the signatures required for the Wizengamot to consider a law that prohibited the discrimination of magical beings in the wizarding community. She warned him that not everyone would share his views, and he would need to gather a significant number of signatures. Booker began by approaching his colleagues, but while some refused to sign, such as Walden, while others signed without hesitation. He then turned to his friends, including Celia. To his surprise, Celia disagreed with his views, which caused their budding romance to falter. Despite this setback, Booker remained committed to his mission to make the wizarding community more inclusive, collecting as many signatures as he could. The night of the Halloween ball in 1982 is when Booker's tale came to its tragic end. Booker moved through the ballroom with vigour, trying to persuade as many guests as possible to sign his petition. The pure-bloods snarled at him, and those who were aware of his intentions avoided him. His brother, was particularly angry at Booker bringing his petition, snatching it from him and ripping it up in front of his very eyes.
Enraged, Booker fled the ballroom, smacking into Rabastan Lestrange upon his exit to the balcony by mistake. Always game for a fight, Rabastan quickly dug his teeth into Booker, mocking him and his cause and a wand battle broke out between the two. As Rabastan wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, Booker noticed something change in his face. Before Booker could even call for help, Rabastan cast a spell that tore a ferocious, werewolf-like gash through his chest. The world fell silent as he tumbled over the balcony railing, with the wind rushing past him and screams echoing through the air, narrowly missing MARLENE MCKINNON [potential love interest] who he had hoped to meet later that evening for a kiss and a dance in the darkness. After his untimely death, Rabastan framed SILAS CRUMP [acquaintance] for the murder. As the mystery surrounding Booker's death unfolded, his petition lay neglected on Harrison’s desk, pieced back together, gathering dust as the ink slowly faded from its pages. Would his legacy perish with him, or would someone pick up the mantle of his cause, fighting for the rights and equality of creatures in the wizarding world?
— he was a LEVEL 5 WIZARD & is now at peace ;
#lsrp#lsrpg#bio rp#bio rpg#literature rp#booker bagnold#fallen#m millicent bagnold#m harrison bagnold#m edward tonks#m rabastan lestrange#m caius burke#m xerxes zabini#m aurelia rookwood#m kervens borgin#m elizabeth braithwaite#m marianne macmillian#m cecelia abbott#m laurence abbott#m walden macnair#m rodolphus lestrange#m hestia jones#m marlene mckinnon#m silas crump
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cade Bentley (he/him). District Six. Bartender. 26. Brenton Thwaites.
Cade Bentley used to know power, luxury, privilege. He was fluent in the language of old money and a master navigator of high-powered politics. As a Bentley he was born into it, a fluid gold expected to someday learn from the gems and precious metals of people he flowed between to form himself into something befit for a jewel on the Six-Capitol crown.
Cade, however, never had interest in becoming anything. He rather preferred the liminal spaces between the glorified, where he could fill in the gaps and still get into all the right parties, know the right people, find the right drugs to keep the fun going.
It didn’t come from nowhere, he knew that– but his father’s company, Bentley Industries, was the backbone of Six’s industry, a critical component of the Capitol’s ability to keep its nation the right amount of connected. He supposed the fountain of cash was not bottomless, hypothetically, but so long as the Capitol was, so Bentley Industries would be. In his early twenties, though, the pressure started to mount on him to figure out a direction for his life, for the molten riches within him to begin to cool into his own glorious form. The issue was, Cade was happy like this. Parties, women, men, drugs, cash to blow. Who wouldn’t be? Reluctantly, he took up a role as a stylist in the Games. He had enough connections to bullshit his way through it, and once the tributes were in the Games, he’d be in the clear to do whatever and access Games-exclusive fun. It wasn’t like Six ever won. For a little while, it seemed to work. Paying actual starving artist designers under the table to do his work who needed the cash, attending the occasional meeting, and like magic, he’s off the hook and can do his own thing. Then his father died. Had the fucking audacity to have a heart attack, the bastard, and to leave the entirety of Bentley Industries in Cade’s hands, his only heir, naming him CEO of a national powerhouse company at the ripe old age of 26. It was the first time in Cade’s life he ever felt stress like this. Within days he was drowning in the paperwork, and drowning in his complicated grief. Within months, the company started to take a sharp downturn, and he asked for help in a fellow socialite he thought he could trust to go in with it on him, fairly, fifty-fifty. Business is cutthroat. Selene Honeybell swindled him out of any controlling shares, money, inheritance, control, power, and while his name still, technically, was in association with Bentley Industries, Selene Honeybell was the new puppetmaster. Cade Bentley had nothing. He was homeless, districtless, skilless. He was dirty rainwater running through the gutters of the Capitol streets, formless and helpless to the direction he was being swept. It seemed he was deposited at Everett’s doorstep. Everett showed him a kindness that he barely understood. It didn’t come with the usual language of kindness, not the motherly type or the good samaritan type. The type that offered up his couch, occasional packets of noodles, and more often than once finding themselves in each other’s beds– though to what end, neither of them seemed to want to think about or know. It was simpler that way.
At first, he took the space, finally, to breathe. Process. Grieve. It became evident very quickly, however, that he couldn’t expect Everett’s hospitality to last long. He had little money to pay in rent or groceries (though he tried to pitch in), he had no purpose anymore to keep him occupied, and when they were around each other this often, there was the same weird undercurrent that had remained in stasis for a couple of years now as to what they meant to one another. They looked out for each other, but they fought and thought so differently, but they shared Everett’s bed more than Cade went to the couch.
He had to leave. He’d planned it, but told no one. He waited until Everett’s breathing had dropped off into deep sleep one night, standing and carefully gathering his few items from around the apartment that he thought wouldn’t wake him. It didn’t even take twenty minutes for Cade to then be on the next train to Six.
Six he understood a little better. He knew who to talk to to find jobs. At first they were small ones, simple ones though not at all lacking in their difficulty. Cade didn’t excel at these– he jumped between them a lot. What it did do, though, was introduce him to a host of people at Six’s underbelly, and the types of work where the real money would come. What Cade lacked in intelligence, he made up for in looks and a general lack of self-preservation, favored traits in the kind of work the underground powerful needed done. It went on like this for a year. At first, it was easy cash, Cade could slip in and out of contact. The grip they had on him, though, wound around him quietly, without him noticing. The jobs got a little more complex, the asks bigger– and the pay higher. It was only once he started questioning if he could really do some of the tasks given to him that he realized how tangled in Six’s criminal networks he was now, that to even test the bindings now cinched tight around him could get him killed.
He was stuck. The 132nd Games came and passed, shortly after he was taken into an office and given a talk as though he was receiving a promotion. Or… maybe he was? He wasn’t sure. He had a spot as the bartender on the inside of the Tower for the coming Games, the perfect spot to collect intel and run their drug hustle– among other things they’d ask of Cade. He was perfect for the job, celebrity enough to be right at home in the Capitol, he knew the ropes of the Tower from his time as a stylist there, but low profile enough he’d be perceived as harmless. He could get anything– or anyone– in or out of that Tower. His role starts with a bang at the 132nd Victor’s Ball. He both dreads being back, and is relieved to get some distance from the organized crime life in Six. Besides, bartenders make good tips and sometimes get to bring pretty people home. It could be worse, as he was often reminded these days. Cade is ambivalent about the Games these days. He used to find them fun and intriguing, and sometimes he still enjoys the atmosphere of it all in the Capitol, but he’s gone lukewarm on them since being up close with the tributes– and his unnamed closeness with Everett. He’s quite charismatic, boisterous, and outgoing, but he can be reckless, shortsighted, and cowardly.
PENNED BY: KAYE
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
CONGRATULATIONS EMMA your application has been accepted ! You can NOW check out the instructions on this page.
Make sure to REACH OUT from your character blog so we can post the follow notice. We’re thrilled to have you!
⟨ Selena Gomez. female. she/her. 26. ⟩ We just saw June Alvarez entering the Savoy. I heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with the Jabberwocks and that they also go by the Sun. Be careful, they work for them as a henchwoman and can sometimes be abrupt, sarcastic, or even brash but I’ve also heard some people say that they were thrifty, caring and adaptable. — emma. she/her. GMT.
#lf.accepted#crime rp#oc rp#lsrpg#semi appless rp#bio roleplay#mafia rp#mob rp#appless rp#crime roleplay#skeleton rp
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
LONDON FALLING a crime and political roleplay. (x)
LONDON FALLING is a new original crime and political roleplay inspired by mystery novels and noir films. You’ll also find references to classic British literature in some of the names we picked for our criminal gangs.
2003 - A treaty is signed between the elected leaders and the two major gangs of London. One group vows to be discreet, the other to leave them room to breath. One group gains the civilians’ approval while the other thrives in the shadows.
Just as good things must come to an end, no bad deed goes unpunished.
2022 - A journalist, a whistleblower, a detective, or even a concerned citizen could uncover it all.
As for the criminals, they start to feel cramped, confined to a realm of shadow and darkness when they’ve done nothing but thrive for all these years. Made stronger by the agreement, they no longer need it to survive.
The Times unveiled THE TRUTH regarding the 2003 treaty and now the structure of a whole city is threatened.
3 notes
·
View notes
Photo
In honor of our first group arriving into Albion this week (and October, our spooky season), we’re going to be sharing some of our favorite skeletons that we’d still love to see! Interested in joining us? We hope so!
THE YEAR IS 1923. Welcome to Albion, a small-town, magical roleplay game based in a fictional valley in rural New England. Nestled between two mountain ridges, Albion is home to a cozy, eclectic, and ultimately slightly spooky community, intentionally isolated from the outside world.
MEET THE JOYFUL
THE GIFT
The Joyful can see auras, and is adept at understanding the thoughts, emotions, and intentions that create them. She comes off as intuitive, but it is more complex than that. When attuned to those around her, she can influence their moods with her own, radiating goodness, emitting bitterness. What she cannot do is control how their emotions may catch her.
IN BRIEF
Lesser people may call her an optimist, or perhaps naive, but the Joyful knows better. Joy is a choice, and she must be willing to seek it out to hold it in her grasp. And she does. From apple pies at the solstice festival, to picking the first wildflowers of spring, the Joyful sees the prettiness in the world -- and embraces it. She would have liked it to embrace her, too.
Instead, she finds herself tethered to young wards: her students. As a teacher, she is practiced in the art of patience, and she has empathy for the young ones in her care who must learn it, too.
She is cozy fireside winters and exuberant summer twilights, the lines upon her face traces of an uplift, evidence of her laughter. Life is short and days are long.
It is possible to be so bright that no one can match your spark. The years run long, and the Joyful moves into a little home that she makes for herself, and builds a little life, fit for just one. Slowly, her life travels; first it is visits, short and sweet, then it is trips, with beginnings and endings, until finally, she awakes one morning in a little home, and a little life, far away from the valley. From that day, where the present moment settled upon her, the children will not listen to her admonitions, she finds her moods as fey and raucous as a summer storm. The garden is full of mealy roses, and her pet -- her one companion -- knows it too. It is time to return home.
MYSTERIOUS PAST
Some time ago, the Joyful learned the value of saying no. How did she learn that lesson? What made her forget it, and return to her old ways?
READY? BOARD THE TRAIN 🔮
#historical rp#literate rp#active rp#town rp#coven rp#witch rp#magic rp#original lsrp#original rp#bio rp#lsrp#lsrpg#period rp
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
