Multiple Settings Most Original Title™ (Looking for RP Partners! Seru Edition)

[Seru]

well here goes

Hullo y'all! The name's Seru, a 17-turning-18-year old girl whose time spent surfing the Internet versus making homework is a ratio of 10:1. I've recently taken a roleplaying hiatus due to IRL reasons (for those I've accidentally ghosted on--I feel guilty and I am so so sorry), but now I'm back and itching to write! So, some quick stuff about me:

• I've been roleplaying for about five years or so.
• I've played male, female, and non-binary characters before, although I think I'm most comfortable with playing females because I am one myself.
• I'm more of a sucker for platonic relationships, but I'm not against having romance in the plot! Chances are it won't be the main focus though. Also, I'm up for MxF and FxF pairings--I'm not that good at MxM but hey, you can't learn if you don't try, right?
• I'm a turtle when it comes to replying--sometimes it can take me weeks to reply, although my current average would be 3-4 days. If speedy replies are your cup of tea then I might not be the partner for you sorryyyyyyy.
• On that note, my replies usually range from 300 - 500 words, maybe more if it's a starter or if I have enough muse. I don't really know what level I'm at (adv. literate, semi-literate, etc.), but I'm gonna be putting up some writing samples so you can be the judge :3
• I love chatting OOC! Seriously, it might come to a point where I end up making memes and headcanons about our rp. Let's geek out together!

And now, some quick stuff for you! cough rules cough

• This is probably a given already but--no one liners, please. I'm not saying you should match my post length or reply with a novella or anything. A paragraph with content that gives me room for a reply is enough :3
• I'm pretty chill with reply speeds considering I'm a turtle myself--that said, I'm also ghost-friendly! I'm aware that real life always comes first and will understand if you can't continue the roleplay anymore. That goes as well for those that lose interest in the RP. Also, if I go inactive, I'll try my best to give you a heads-up in advance!
• You can reply in this thread, but note that I'll be responding through DM because I keep track of my inbox more than this thread.
• If you've read this far, when you DM/post please tell me what you think my profile picture is: food or flowers?
• All RPNation rules apply
• I'm not too iffy about rules so these are all for now, though it will be updated from time to time :3

**NOTE: I am craving the plots more than the pairings xD The latter's just stuff I shot up from the back of my head that I thought might be fun to play around with.
**NOTE NOTE: In terms of fandoms...I'm not really experienced in that area so I'm not gonna delve in there yet :3

• Pairings
• Plots
• Writing Samples

• 
  * = the more of these, the better
  (don't necessarily have to be romantic :3)
  (will be updated from time to time)
  
  Warrior x Mage *
  Bodyguard x Noble *
  Noble x Commoner *
  Superhero x Supervillain **
  Superhero Sidekick x Supervillain Sidekick ***
  Immortal x Immortal **
  Immortal x Time Traveler ***
  Medieval Bard x Jester ***
  Noble/Royal x Court Jester ***
  Death x Mortal **
  Death x Life **
  
  
  
• 
  M1 = Muse A
  M2 = Muse B
  (will be updated from time to time)
  
  
  Spoiler: hey lookie i'm hiding a mage in my closet!

  M1 is a mage, one of the remaining few being hunted down in the kingdom of Sterling. Their life at this point is basically just about running away and trying to survive--and when they do stop to try and take a breather, blam, they end up apprehended by the Royal Guard and almost get killed. Almost. Thankfully they manage to escape at the last minute, but that's just about it. They eventually fall unconscious from their sustained injuries, and the last thing they see is another figure approaching them as darkness closes in.
  
  They were so sure they were going to die.
  
  Enter M2. Middle-child of the General (aka the King's biggest suck-up), and all around troublemaker of Sterling. Their reputation dictates them as a disgrace to their family, the black sheep, the bastard, and so they're the only one in their family not included in the Royal Guard and even more so not actively hunting down mages. Funny enough that they end up discovering one in the woods. Injured. Dying. Most obviously in need of help.
  
  So that's exactly what M2 does.
  Spoiler: drive! fucking drive! aka that time i took a roadtrip with a wanted criminal

  (based on a post in Tumblr)
  
  M1 was just supposed to be a passerby. One of the many witnesses of the heist, supposed to be hoisting up a phone and taking a video of the chaos like a typical 21st-century citizen. They simply had the misfortune of being in their car while it happened. And so M2 comes in, a total stranger carrying a sack full of money. They had just managed to evade the police, successfully sneaking over to the only non-cop car in the vicinity. Realization hits M1 like a wrecking ball. A thief is in their car. A thief who had just single-handedly pulled off the greatest heist in all of history--at least, it would have been if someone didn't catch them in the act and called the police.
  
  "Drive! Fucking Drive!" M2 screams, and M1 hits the pedal without hesitation, effectively becoming an accomplice to a crime they didn't commit.
  
  (I was thinking this could either be a typical criminal x citizen, but I think it has potential to be put in a dystopian setting? with the heist being some sort of act of rebellion and M1 getting dragged into it because they accidentally became M2's--a rebel's--getaway driver? Actually craving more for this kind of twist but didn't want to get too exposition-y :3)
  Spoiler: please stop dying aka angst galore

  M1 has been roaming around the world for the past millennium, and frankly that would've been a nice thing if it didn't involve having to meet M2 over and over again. Frankly, meeting M2 again and again would've been a nice thing too, except that every time M2 reaches the age of 18, M1 has to witness them die.
  
  Enter 2019, 17 years since M1 saw M2's 56th reincarnation get hit by a car. M1 knows they would meet the most recent reincarnation soon--and eventually, have to watch them die again.
  
  They just wish that this time would be different.
  Spoiler: chicken run but this time with human (?) lab rats

  M1 is a test subject, a lab rat, a pinnacle of science's latest achievement in the realms of genetics and biology. But most of all, M1 is a prisoner--one of many genetically modified humans created by the clandestine Micheldeck Laboratory. They possess what normal people might call 'superpowers', but M1 only sees it as a curse--an excuse for the scientists to poke and prod and push them to the limits of their being. Every day is a routine; eat, get tested on, sleep. Maybe read the only book in their prison cell for the hundredth time. Maybe pass out from the pain of using abilities they never wanted in the first place.
  
  Mostly, though, they spend their time planning to escape.
  
  Thankfully, they're not alone. M2, their next-door (next-cell?) neighbor, has been plotting an escape just as much as M1 has. There's also M3 on the other side of the hallway, and M4, and M5...essentially, the majority want out. It's simply a matter of where, when, and how.
  
  One question remains, however: What waits for them outside?
  
  (I can see this going a lot of ways. Also I know I mentioned lots of characters but this can be narrowed down to the standard two-character ensemble so all's good. I think it'd be a fun setting to explore in terms of character development and dynamics and all that lovely jazz. Again, lots of potential directions here. Nothing in the summary is set in stone so any changes are welcome :3)
  Spoiler: help there's a noisy greek god in my head

  Gods.
  
  The Greeks had them, the Norse had them, the Romans, the Africans, the Americans...the whole world had them. Keyword: had. Now they're just memories of the past, ancient manuscripts that are considered fiction rather than reality. The gods are dead, most would say, and for a long time that was considered the truth. That is, until a man announced on live TV that he was the vessel of Zeus and promptly summoned lightning to prove it.
  
  Turns out the gods aren't really dead.
  
  Simply reincarnated. Simply mortal. Simply human. Or at least, partly human. They've lived inside human hosts for hundreds of years, gifting them with abilities that may or may not have affected the course of human history. At first it had been subtle--polymaths were the vessels of gods of wisdom, the greatest military leaders were the hosts of war gods, so on and so forth. Nothing supernatural, simply above the average human. Sure, there were times a god fell out of line (the Bubonic Plague, for example, was the fault of an illness god's vessel), but mostly the gods have resorted to hiding.
  
  Now they aren't.
  
  --------
  
  (that was a shitty summary sorry)
  (Again, this could go a lot of directions. One character could be mortal while the other is a vessel. Or it could be the interactions between a vessel and a god. Or maybe it's a vessel and a vessel essentially repeating what their gods have done to each other in the past? Persephone and Hades, anyone? Or maybe the frequent conflicts between Athena and Poseidon? Lots of stuff we can discuss!)
• 
  
  Spoiler: Writing Sample 1

  Her eyes were still half-closed when she flipped her shop sign 'Open', the sound of automatic mechanisms beginning to whir in the background while the hybrid shopkeeper sipped her daily dose of tea to begin the day. All around, the darkness brought forth by dawn was fading and slowly being replaced by sunlight that peeked through the shop's closed windows, waiting for Aradessa to press open the button that would let the rays fully shine through.
  
  "Rise and shine, Yushan." Aradessa muttered sleepily, a lopsided smile curving up on her face. With one press of the button by the shop counter, all windows and the single door by the front opened wide, letting in the fresh breeze that seemed surprisingly prominent, even for a place as big as Haru.
  
  She took another sip of her tea before yawning--it had already been months since she first set up shop in Haru, but she still had to get accustomed to waking up earlier than she was used to. Groggily walking towards her nearby workshop, Aradessa set her cup down and began working on her latest commission: an “alarm” clock, as her client had so subtly described. She’d begun building it yesterday evening, so thankfully it was halfway done—or is it three-fourths done? Aradessa wished her mind was as awake as her body right now...maybe she just needed more tea?
  
  Accordingly, she took another sip of her tea as she scrutinized the unfinished device in front of her. Her client was a fellow shopkeeper himself, albeit his products were more prone to robbery than hers, and so he had asked for the same alarm system Aradessa had installed in her shop--specifically, an alarm system that would wake him up at night.
  
  Hence an alarm clock.
  
  The hybrid found herself snorting in amusement. The old guy was terrible at puns.
  
  Cracking her neck from side to side, she began tinkering with the intricate mix of wood, iron and string. It was a complicated thing, all right, designed to be hung atop the front door with a small, almost invisible piece of wire to help activate the alarms as well as the surprise attack. Aradessa couldn't help but grin--One trip from the unsuspecting thief and boom, they'd be thrown out of the door in no time.
  
  It took half an hour at most, a record to which Aradessa prided herself in, most especially because it had been done while she was still sleepy. Gingerly, the inventor hefted up the device and set it up on her front door, replacing her own alarm system. Test it on yourself before you test it on others.
  
  BOOM!
  
  Aradessa didn't exactly remember how it happened, but she was definitely going to blame it on sleep.
  
  All she knew was that she had felt some sort of flat force slapping her right in the face and sending her tumbling down in front of her own shop. If she hadn't known any better, she wouldn't have immediately stood up and belted out a triumphant "YES!"
  
  Much to the weird looks of the passers-by, of course. It prompted Aradessa to smile sheepishly and give an assuring nod. "I'm okay, I'm okay! Don't mind me, please."
  Spoiler: Writing Sample 2

  There was something about running through the streets of Pyr that Kieran enjoyed. Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept coursing through her veins. Maybe it was the speed--testing her agility in both mind and body, giving her barely any reaction time for obstacles. Maybe it was the brainwork, the kind that Kieran loved, making her rely on one-second improvisations that may or may not have actually helped.
  
  It was definitely not because three large men were chasing her with murder in their eyes.
  
  Pyr was fun--a word which here means "dangerous"--but it was also home to information Kieran was hired to disseminate. Information that, unfortunately, was held by a man she didn't exactly want to cross paths with. Again. Until she did, of course, hence the three men chasing her with an intent to kill.
  
  "You ain't getting away this time, Geraldine!"
  
  Speak of the devil.
  
  Kieran was the slightest bit glad they didn't know her real name nor face, only the one she'd given them about a month ago: Geraldine. She had posed as a merchant lass with a scarred face who'd treated their boss--a man named Hiram--one too many drinks until his secrets spilled out like a leaked tankard. A month later and Kieran expected Hiram to have learned his lesson, but he still fell for the same old trick. It was almost laughable up until he decided to send his underlings her way.
  
  You're better than this, she could almost hear her father scold.
  
  Eventually, the streets got thicker and thicker with people until Kieran could barely see anything else. It was almost surprising how she could still hear the bellows of Hiram's men close behind, even in such a thick crowd. Crowd, crowd, crowd... Kieran looked around. Crowds...she could blend in. She could hide in plain sight. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
  
  Disguise.
  
  Taking a deep breath, Kieran immediately set her eyes and hands to work. She was no professional pickpocket, but one of the many things she'd learned as a street urchin was how to grab things in record time. And then eventually disguise herself using those things.
  
  Spectacles. Hair tie. Cloak. Hat. Charcoal.
  
  Eventually the crowd had one Geraldine short, five utterly confused and angry people, and one new ragged gentleman furtively walking towards the Scarlet Queen, trying not to show that he was running away from Hiram's men. A laugh almost escaped Kieran when said men simply passed her by with nothing but a quick glance. It wasn't going to be long before they realize they've been had, and it was also not going to be long before they enter the same brothel looking for a certain Geraldine when in truth she'd already disguised herself as a man with a thin moustache.
  
  Kieran was going to call herself Ronan for now.
  
  She'd been to the Scarlet Queen time and time again, being "business" partners with its proprietress Madigan Ó Broin. It was a sort of safe haven, and Kieran--Ronan--strode naturally inside the establishment and directly towards the counter, waiting until the tender approached. "Some good ol' scotch, would 'ya." An accent and a deeper voice was all it took to reasonably sound like a man--Kieran was just glad she was born with a lower voice to pull it off. As she waited for her order, Kieran took a quick look of the tavern. Men, women, drunkards, prostitutes...same old, same old--
  
  Creighton Callan.
  
  Well, well, things just got interesting. It didn't help that he was just a chair away from where she was sitting, slouching and seemingly in poor spirits. Kieran had heard of his return some days ago, along with the fact that he'd marched in on her tavern and scared almost all of her patrons away. On any other day she would have discussed the matter with him, but now didn't exactly seem like a good time. So, instead, she began with, "Mister Creighton Callan, fancy meetin' ya here."
  
  It was low enough for only him to hear, and as Kieran waited for a reply (or possible lack thereof), she waved at the tender for a shot of rum to send over to the Guildmaster. "Lookin' quite glum now, aren't ya? Penny for your thoughts?" She wasn't expecting Creighton to recognize her at first glance, but that just made the mischief grow. They held each other in mutual respects, and while others would fear the Pirate King, Kieran did not.
  Spoiler: Writing Sample 3

  You look at the newspaper clippings in front of you--reminders of past fame and triumph and glory. Yours. Or was it, really? It wasn't you who compiled those clippings. It wasn't you who wanted to be a world-famous genius at 6 years old.
  
  (it was mum and dad and their stupid grab for popularity)
  
  [div style="border:2px dashed #929292;padding:5px;"]"Child solves 20 calculus problems in under 30 minutes"[/div]
  [div style="border:2px dashed #929292;padding:5px;"]"Lena deRossi, age 6, creates unique software for the blind"[/div]
  [div style="border:2px dashed #929292;padding:5px;"]"Child genius graduates high school at the age of 8"[/div]
  
  You read through all of them, through the products of an unwanted identity that has brought you nothing but harm. Others loved you for your contributions and your ideals, but there were those who hated you for simply being smart.
  
  (for simply being better)
  
  [div style="border:2px dashed #929292;padding:5px;"]"15-year old prodigy hospitalized after gang beat-up"[/div]
  
  It had already been a month since the event (the awakening), but you could still feel their boots slamming down on your chest, their fists colliding with your face, the yells of envy and hate pounding down upon your ears.
  
  You close your eyes and shake your head, as if the simple gesture was going to whisk the memory away. (it didn't). Looking back up at the newspaper clippings, you felt your hands slowly ball into fists. This wasn't the life you wanted.
  
  You reach up to tear away the clippings.
  
  "Don't."
  
  You recognize the voice--the same voice that had been bombarding you for a month. The voice that only you can hear. Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. And apparently you were her latest reincarnation.
  
  Ha. Bull.
  
  Despite the surge of strangers' memories now currently residing inside your head, your logical mind still wasn't ready to believe it all. Just an effect of PTSD, was your excuse, but you know for a fact that the truth said otherwise.
  
  "I'm done with this shit," you mutter to no one in particular, beginning to forcefully take off the newspaper clippings on the wall.
  
  "Imagine your potential, Lena," Athena replied anyway. "Imagine what more you could do!"
  
  You laugh dryly, deciding not to retort--it was only gonna make the goddess talk more and you did not want that right now.
  
  Instead, you rip away at the clippings some more.

​

 

[Seru]

Badabump!
also added one new plot

 

[Seru]

Badabump!