Multiple Settings ramiel’s ticket to rp hell

[ramielthepresident]

✈︎ 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀... #𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗅𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. ©

♫ 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌;

༒ 𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒.
༒ 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌,𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌.
༒ 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗒, 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗌.
༒ 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌.
༒ 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗌.

“merry as a drunken sailor walking the plank and loud as a singing siren.”

✈︎ age, personality; 20 and absolutely down to do anything with anyone! pretty open about my views and beliefs whilst, you know, not being a dick. used to being in the background and observing happenings from afar. trying to be more social.

✈︎ passions, dislikes; I adore writing, history, and reading. not in that particular order. likewise, big dogs and needles and noodles all rile me up in a way i can’t really describe.

✈︎ literacy, limits; novella. two responds per day. no excessive age gaps, posturing for romance, and gods-forbid no horrendous or otherwise mediocre writing.

♫ plots.

✈︎ held underneath a blue sky. victorian era england. ervin eade. 22. son of a baron, baker, reader.

'i can hear them, gods know i could hear those sounds coming from miles away. heels clacking and venomous whispers from cowards, mayhaps i could even smell the filth dripping from their mouths.'

in another life, ervin would've been just another baker luxuriating in sweet cakes before handing them off to smiling fathers and mothers and children.

in another life, there would've been no significant prospect for him other than living his life beside a farm in greater london, a shop in the bustling streets, a couple steel mills and cotton farms and breathing the mucky air that clung so hard to those areas.

but it is not that life. because he is not only ervin - the boy that loves pastries, reads history books on the ancient lands of eqypt and greece and persia, that revels over paper and quill late at night. he is ervin eade, child to a wealthy baron and royal cousin, heir to massive wealth and land and people. he is a young man that the court shall plot and call cold, detached, sterile. why wouldn't they? he grimly thinks as he walks shining tiles. i have not bothered to show myself beyond what is necessary, they do not know me and when they do not know they whisper.

the atmosphere of a ball is peculiar. it is soft feathers over silk, it is nails on a chalkboard, it is a mess of perfumes and dances that he has learned to say he loves. along that thought, he forces himself to smile and wave and gaze at other aristocrats doing so back in a way that devolves the sparkle around his eyes. ervin eade does not even consider the possibility of enjoying the event now, not with the gleeful stares and gossip and condemning eyes he can feel at his back.

right until he meets her.

details; this particular plot involves ervin getting acquainted your character during a ball meeting and promptly hitting it off before going to meet up and talk even more. mainly dialogue, much more character driven and depicts dysfunctional family relationships being repaired until the world becomes, perhaps not an idyllic utopia, but at least one that allows one more family to have a better life, somehow, somewhere.

✈︎ a taste of the seven sins. hotd, got, asoiaf. viserys.

'of course, there is plenty of reason for their skepticism, they have already seen you as you are; a pompous king and even worse father.'

viserys was born to a house of luxury.

he pauses, letting his rotting fingertips scratch across the golden goblet, grasping. viserys hates the sound more than anything in the world.

rain carefully dribbles over his window, lush glass smeared into a dreary fog. scents, scents of muck and filth flood through his nose, a background to the thick heady wine overwhelming him.

from his cradle to the training yard, spending his time learning the banners of the Seven Kingdoms to charming his horde of subjects. in gilded affluent upbringings he veils himself in court meetings, a son of the famed prince baelon.

a son.

baelon. his mind whispers, heart twisting and memory stirring. to a woman, of fair white hair and kind complexion. to a queen, he once loved and adored. to a shrieking girl, her screams afraid and pained in a way that makes dread fold in his stomach. to the quiet, deathly pale child he lost hours after.

he’s so small. aegon is not the first he has sired, the size should not surprise him so; but it does. all his life, he has towered over others with a pleasant grin, perhaps that is why the feeling of weariness deep in his bones settled everytime he held the babe, let him gurgle happily over his healthy finger and giggle innocently. viserys is aware how easily that laugh can be torn from his throat, turned into an agonized cry.

perhaps that is why he cannot bear to look at his child. perhaps that is why he favors the older and stronger sister over the younger, sickly brother. perhaps that is why needles of scathing fire prickles him when he sees violet eyes and white locks that remind him of another. there is no excuse, he knows, for neglecting one’s child. but he nonetheless does not relent, does not try anyway to connect.

until now.

“father?”

details; i've always loved the books and show even despite the latter's self-destructive emo phase, and i can't really say anything different for hotd. the characters are truly painted in a way i understand and sympathize with, hell, george is the only author and writer i know that could rely on a book's inauthenticity and faulty information to set up misunderstandings and characters.as it is however, i'll be playing viserys in this particular plot, and well, it slightly rubbed me the wrong way that he didn't talk or show as much affection to his children with alicent as he could've. choose whoever you want to play; alicent, helena, aegon, aemond, i'll just make it clear that we'll play more than one character both.

✈︎ flowers which bloom and the ones that don't. modern drama, small town in maine. theo massey. 28. engineer, poem writer, guitarist.

'man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and sculptor.'

there is a pounding in his chest, a certain scalding and twisting knot that won't go away, streaming by gulps of fire entering into lungs that suddenly heave for more. theo has imagined this exact scenario a hundred times crawled onto his bed, a thousand more nights and days and mornings staring gloomily at the showerhead and yet still all those words, those flaring frets he couldn't quite clamp down on - they all rush away in just a single second. a single glimpse of her, of a girl he both feared and craved seeing again. quite frankly, a desire to immediately run off and hide glazes itself across him for more than just one moment, but instead he resorts to the only option he knows of, the only viable emotion that ever seemed to be one he could express.

so he does what he has always done his entire life and lashes out.

"wha - what?! why are you here?" unconsciously, he finds himself hissing quietly and subtly glaring at her eyes. "did it not cross your fucking mind to stay away from me? permanently? how did you even get the invite to the wedding for my baby brother?" distantly, he is aware just how likely it is that he's making a scene right before the bride is about to enter the stage, but theo does not find it in himself to care while lost amidst the riveting emotions that overcomes him. anxiety driven outbursts weren't uncommon for him, but they are almost always inscrutable except to people who know him and that makes him all the more pissed off because he knows that she unquestionably fits in that list.

details; all the songs about breakup are written and scattered to the winds, but where are all the ones about two souls finding forgiveness in another's past mistakes? where are all the tales where a relationship ends not due to any particular toxic aspect but because life simply took two souls down different paths? i truly do dislike flawed relationships being unnecessarily toxic for no other reason than one being cruel, so i decided to advertise this on anyone willing for this vibe!

✈︎ reminder; further details for plots can be discussed in private!

♫ additional fandoms.

✈︎ marvel cinematic universe.
✈︎ star wars.
✈︎ edgerunners.
✈︎ jujutsu kaisen.
✈︎ mha.
✈︎ avatar.
✈︎ dc universe.
✈︎ fairy tail. (yes i still remember it leave me alone)
✈︎ mass effect.

✈︎ and yes, i could likely play any other fandom you would like as long as i know of it!

✈︎ 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀... 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! <𝟥 ©

 

[ramielthepresident]

‘the poet that laughs quietly,
mutters underneath his breath,
noticing little details no one sees,
a head full of entire worlds
but struggling to find the words.’

 

[ramielthepresident]

“You remember too much.” She says, swinging her feet almost petulantly. “Why hold onto all that?”

“Hold onto what?” He huffs.

“That… weight on your chest. I see it every time you think no one is looking.” Elaborating, she stares. “Why?”

The man laughs. “Where can I put it down?” He answers wryly, harshness and self-pity in his eyes.

 

[ramielthepresident]

“When did I become like this, I wonder?” Chin on her shoulder, he chuckles bitterly. “Half knife, half man, I mean.”

“You mean…?” Inquiring, she holds him closer, arms tightening. “I can’t read your mind, you know.” She hums.

Frowning in contemplation, he lets the words hang for just a moment. Then he speaks. “There are moments - days where I feel like I’m wielding my mother’s grief in one hand and father’s anger in the other.” Silence reigns for yet another precious few seconds. “I’m trying my best. To be tender, to be kind and great and thoughtful for you but - but, cruelty has made me a monster, I guess. Trying is all I can do.”

“Darling, that is all any of us can do.”

 

[ramielthepresident]

Angelic eyes he
has
With them he sees
past and future
With their gaze he sees
how the stars are drunk
And the moon is intoxicated,
blistering from the
sins of the sun
He stares,
and wonders
why the universe never loved him back.

 

[ramielthepresident]

“You’re one of the rare ones, you know.” The rain tapers down on the pavement, clattering rhythmically.

“Am I?” Laughing, a smile slips on her wispy lips. “Is there any particular reason you’re saying this?”

“No. I’m just thinking.” He smoothly replies, absently fiddling with his bracelet. “You’re like a diamond in the rough - A flower growing from a rock, something really really rare. You make me believe that, well, beauty can in fact come from darkness.”

 

[ramielthepresident]

“You make me so fucking mad when I see you.” He laughs and smiles. It’s a half way thing, always between a grin and a threat. “Really, you should be a crime to just exist - A paradox. Sociable, but alone. Gentle, but too rough. Pretty and yet terrifying. Passionate but also detached. Understanding you is a pain in the ass.”

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I do not need you to make sense of me and my habits.”

 

[ramielthepresident]

“It hurts.” She whispers, huddling close. Her words confess to a world he doesn’t know what to do with - Doesn’t know how to fix it or help or ease the pain. He can only be there.

“I know.” Holds him closely, her dainty knuckles a pearly white, tight and taut as if he was a ghost and might’ve disappeared any second. “Trust me, I know.”

 

[ramielthepresident]

✈︎ when the breeze rushes (it reminds me of you) clyde bridges, missouri, tattoo artist, loves traveling, rock climber, 29.



‘i know you’re red brass and fierce kicks and metal hands, but please. please i beg you, just - just be soft for once. be soft and be mine.’

“careful.” he says, placing a gloved hand on her stomach to keep her from teetering to the cliff of the mount they stood on.

katherine cannot help the way her lips frown and how she huffs, he sees. a puff of steam that steadily dances through the air. “i’m not a child.”

“no, but your mother is alive and i’d rather not explain how her daughter died because her son-in-law wasn’t careful enough.” he counters, which causes her to scowl further. he smiles at her expression, patting and pushing her forward. “you’re the most stubborn woman i’ve ever met - there’s not a single line you wouldn’t cross if you thought it worth the moment.”

kat walks slowly forwards and snorts, likely resisting the urge to roll her eyes and call him dramatic because that would just support his argument, but only just.

it is the two of them on this sole hike deep into mounts and paths and roads, where the season has reached the barest of an autumn frost. still, he can feel how the wind cuts into him at every turn and twist - how the hardening ice and light snow crunches beneath his boot. if he weren’t so used to it and hadn’t picked such thick clothing, there’s no doubt in his mind that he would’ve frozen over. but he doesn’t mind it, he finds.

no, it’s definitely a fair trade, he thinks as the sun beams down on them. his skin is warmed, and the next breath he takes doesn’t seem as harsh. clyde pauses, steps halting and comforting hues of yellow shining off the goggles on his chin. kat turns, but gets caught in the moment too and they just stand there, at what seems like the edge of the world and bathing in light and gusts that dance on their face. the snow-capped mountains billow in the distance, his mind drifting amidst the pale milky clouds just above them. there is nothing else here. just snow and silence and peace and them.

clyde has never felt more at home.

“we could stay here.” he says, softly, gently.

“i wouldn’t mind, not really.” she muses, promptly sitting down. he plops himself down as well, before he feels a head lean on his shoulder. “maybe we could live our lives here, forever.” melodically, she laughs.

maybe, he thinks.

✈︎ seven sequences, seven wonders and amazing sights katherine and clyde go to. this is just for leisure, not meant to be serious or focusing on anything from; sure there’ll be angst as ill inevitably include, but it’s softer, with a describable ending and premise that’s fundamentally happier than the others i’ve written up.

 

[ramielthepresident]

I still look
at you as if
you put the
stars in the sky.

 

[ramielthepresident]

"Tell me, am I still a fool for wanting to love you?"

"No, just desperate and lonely."

 

[ramielthepresident]

✈︎ tell us a beautiful lie (or sing the empty truth), 29, kylan lorain, hot mess, alcohol addict, baker, chronicled dumb himbo.



"Perhaps I would be happier if you had not lashed along with your tongue; perhaps I would not be mad at all dear date of mine."

"At least give him a chance, you never know if whether you'd be surprised or not." She carefully swipes at her hair, roughly bundling it all together before tying it around and sounding amused, as though it were a joke.

"He puked. On my dress." Eye twitching, she pronounced every syllable irately. "How do you suppose I forget that after the first date?"

"I'm not asking you to forget - Honey, I'm asking you to forgive and let live. It's not like he did it on purpose." Exasperation coated in her silky drawn voice, she finishes tying the stubborn hair. "Look, just have a dinner with him and see if he could be a bit more courteous at the end!"

A sigh, fingers running up her strands of hair absently. "I promise you, the word 'courtesy' is not in his dictionary."

✈︎ kyle is a date who pukes on your character's dress after you hang around in a local bar. he tells you that he has no family, no connections to tie him down.

he lies. shortly after, you meet a middle aged balding man look for him. curiously, this leads to an argument which has kyle declaring for all the world that you and the aforementioned man are devils who want nothing but to ruin his life.

the following morning, he apologizes and offers to get you a new dress. you decline.

he finds your house anyway, and gives you one. you slap him. everything devolves from there.

as always, choose your character and backstory.

just a fun snippet of a snowball that could evolve into an avalanche.

 

[ramielthepresident]

'To be kept waiting is unfortunate, but to be kept waiting with nothing interesting to read is a tragedy of Greek proportions.'