apocalypse tv
student of dreams
introduction
hi, my name is lev/faust (they/them). i'm an aimless gaysian art major coming up on the third year. hobbies include rotting in my bed and listening to glass animals.
availability
i'm in the est timezone but i respond randomly and erratically. i'm ghost-friendly, no questions asked, and i hope that you extend the same courtesy to me. i rp in threads or pms and conduct ooc onsite for the time being.
style & writing sample
as for my writing style, i'd consider myself 3rd person literate. i don't really put emphasis on word counts. you write what's necessary for the scene and also however much you want to. i usually rp and conduct ooc in pms, but am generally flexible depending on partner's preference. i've added some proper samples of my writing below. note that the first one is all in lowercase, but i usually properly capitalize all my ic writing and only use all lowercase in ooc. it all depends on context.
he should have stuck with it, he mused as he ran his hand through his hair for the fifth time in as many minutes, the dull beat of old regret and distant panic thrumming in his veins. become a nurse, instead of playing at becoming a man of letters. neither had worked out, in the end, and here he was. jobless, a useless degree in literature and the fine arts. the gates to his family home closed to him. mere days away from becoming destitute.
he looks at the letters scattered on the table, thinks of the dozen letters he had sent out the days prior, and of the three that had been sent back already, unopened. he can hear his heart beating in the cage of his body, thrumming loudly in time to the despair setting in his marrow, ice cold. all is lost. he hunches over, altogether too close yet too far removed from his physical body, his breath is coming in short, breathy pants. the stale air of his tenement apartment suffocates him, and he wonders: is this the end? is this the end of it all?
a bitter resentment fills him, trickling in slowly, and then in a flood, the spine he had lost years ago somewhere in faraway schoolyard playgrounds and in the shadow of his brotherβs supernova, comes back again in the worst way. he feels like screaming himself hoarse but stifles himself at the prospect of the upstairs tenants confronting him for the noise - his own cowardice sets his blood boiling. he feels it bubbling. he does not deserve this. what did he ever do to deserve this? he always felt like he was meant for greater things, that all the failure and the fear would someday give way - though he never voiced it, the craven he was, it was there, that put-upon entitlement, crystallized through the years of perceived hardship and wrongdoing.
for a moment, edelweiss is so blindingly angry that he wants to unhinge his jaw, like some sort of snake, and swallow the world raw. puncture it with his canines through the thin shell and taste the salt of its blood, feel it slide down his gullet and sate his unusual appetite. it calms him, thinking about it, his jaw working as he imagines. the rarest meat, pink and dripping, the fibers grinding down to mince as he savors it, licking it off his teeth.
his breaths come slower to him now, longer. his cheeks are cool. he raises a hand up to find the damp tear tracks on his face, quickly wiping them away. he had not felt himself weeping.
rising out of the chair abruptly, almost knocking it over, awkwardly catching it with an ankle and steadying it, he moves shakily towards his cot. lying down with a creak, he fumbles underneath the meager mattress for that familiar glass bottle. he siphons two drops on his tongue and closes his eyes, drifting off to a fitful slumber.
-
that night, he does not have a nightmare. rather, he dreams of innumerable shades of red. he dreams of pink, lush meat. he dreams of peach flesh splitting open, past ripe, to reveal the visceral wonders inside. like shining, ruby pomegranate seeds. the secret under the filthy skin of the world, a red so bright and effervescent. he reaches, teeth bared, to gorge himself on the feast, and it fills his tongue with delightful sensation.
he dreams of thrumming veins and capillaries underneath the flesh. that pale door and black wood peeling away to reveal something deeper, redder, delicious. he is chasing a euphoric high, running with far too many limbs, his mouth heavy with far too many teeth. he wants to feel every sensation in the world, the experiences hidden in the folds, the dullness of his previous years on earth scraped away, leaving him empty and wanting.
more, better, faster, stronger, harder.
teeth meets flesh.
harder!
teeth hits bone.
harder!
teeth meets teeth.
edelweiss wakes up cold.
he looks at the letters scattered on the table, thinks of the dozen letters he had sent out the days prior, and of the three that had been sent back already, unopened. he can hear his heart beating in the cage of his body, thrumming loudly in time to the despair setting in his marrow, ice cold. all is lost. he hunches over, altogether too close yet too far removed from his physical body, his breath is coming in short, breathy pants. the stale air of his tenement apartment suffocates him, and he wonders: is this the end? is this the end of it all?
a bitter resentment fills him, trickling in slowly, and then in a flood, the spine he had lost years ago somewhere in faraway schoolyard playgrounds and in the shadow of his brotherβs supernova, comes back again in the worst way. he feels like screaming himself hoarse but stifles himself at the prospect of the upstairs tenants confronting him for the noise - his own cowardice sets his blood boiling. he feels it bubbling. he does not deserve this. what did he ever do to deserve this? he always felt like he was meant for greater things, that all the failure and the fear would someday give way - though he never voiced it, the craven he was, it was there, that put-upon entitlement, crystallized through the years of perceived hardship and wrongdoing.
for a moment, edelweiss is so blindingly angry that he wants to unhinge his jaw, like some sort of snake, and swallow the world raw. puncture it with his canines through the thin shell and taste the salt of its blood, feel it slide down his gullet and sate his unusual appetite. it calms him, thinking about it, his jaw working as he imagines. the rarest meat, pink and dripping, the fibers grinding down to mince as he savors it, licking it off his teeth.
his breaths come slower to him now, longer. his cheeks are cool. he raises a hand up to find the damp tear tracks on his face, quickly wiping them away. he had not felt himself weeping.
rising out of the chair abruptly, almost knocking it over, awkwardly catching it with an ankle and steadying it, he moves shakily towards his cot. lying down with a creak, he fumbles underneath the meager mattress for that familiar glass bottle. he siphons two drops on his tongue and closes his eyes, drifting off to a fitful slumber.
-
that night, he does not have a nightmare. rather, he dreams of innumerable shades of red. he dreams of pink, lush meat. he dreams of peach flesh splitting open, past ripe, to reveal the visceral wonders inside. like shining, ruby pomegranate seeds. the secret under the filthy skin of the world, a red so bright and effervescent. he reaches, teeth bared, to gorge himself on the feast, and it fills his tongue with delightful sensation.
he dreams of thrumming veins and capillaries underneath the flesh. that pale door and black wood peeling away to reveal something deeper, redder, delicious. he is chasing a euphoric high, running with far too many limbs, his mouth heavy with far too many teeth. he wants to feel every sensation in the world, the experiences hidden in the folds, the dullness of his previous years on earth scraped away, leaving him empty and wanting.
more, better, faster, stronger, harder.
teeth meets flesh.
harder!
teeth hits bone.
harder!
teeth meets teeth.
edelweiss wakes up cold.
DAY 11, 304 A.E., near the Guiyan Belt.
(193.45 lightyears from Earth, Designation E-000-0001)
The universe is vast.
Percy knows this, intellectually. It must be vastβit contains everything, encompasses everything. Eons, eras, ages in between.
Right now, she is eons away from Yuzu. Eons away from her cozy single homepod, rented as part of her tuition agreement, with her custom holo screens and cheap twin bed and her empathy bot chittering in the living room. All her stuff mustβve been cleared out by now, the podowner probably putting the place for lease. Sheβd already bought out the storage unit that it was going to be shipped toβthe padkey was somewhere in her inventory back in her cramped quarters; she hadnβt bothered unpacking completelyβthe journey to the Keplon Star was only going to be a month at best, even in a lightweight courier ship like the EMS Hermes.
As she peers out into the simulated aperture projected onto the high, curved ceiling of the shipβs avionics bay, she can almost pick out her homeplanet from the millions, thousands of pinpricks of light that expand outward into the infinity. Distant. Lonely.
Her scars throb for a moment, dull pain flaring up on the side of her face and shoulder. Itβs been months since the accident and the Academy medics did the best they could, but the wound is still alive and hurting, as it so likes to remind her at the most inconvenient of times. She winces and shakes herself out of her thoughts, turning back to the electric wiring sheβd been working on. The lights in the canteen had been flickering at breakfast and Captain Isaak had been adamant that she fix it as soon as possible.
So here she was, hastily finishing off her daily rations in the sub-basement of the EMS while her free hand was typing furiously into the system interface, trying every quick fix in the book.
After the fifth error message, she lets out a frustrated groan and shuts the screen off with a swipe of her pads across the edge and rolls up her sleeves. It seems she was going to have to get her hands dirty for this one.
As she delved into the auxiliary power supply, her hands grew immediately slick with the disgusting kind of sludge that accumulates when your ship runs on refined palladium and is simultaneously poorly maintained. Nose wrinkling as she roots around the grimed-up wiring, she tries not to heave at the smell and tries to think of her mantra, that had her accept this shit job as a courier shipβs maintenance tech when she washed out of RAINI, that she mutters unconsciously under her breath even now, knee-deep in disused systema and wire: Someday, this will be worth it.
Someday, this will be worth it. Sheβll prove herself, work up the chain of command, and rise beyond her station. Sheβs done it once, transforming herself from a dumb kid in the slums of Bairi Yu to a RAINI cadet on the fast track to achieving Imperial rank, and sheβll do it again, academy washout to maintenance tech to something better, something brighter.
Someday, this will all be worth it, but right now, Percy has to gag.
(193.45 lightyears from Earth, Designation E-000-0001)
The universe is vast.
Percy knows this, intellectually. It must be vastβit contains everything, encompasses everything. Eons, eras, ages in between.
Right now, she is eons away from Yuzu. Eons away from her cozy single homepod, rented as part of her tuition agreement, with her custom holo screens and cheap twin bed and her empathy bot chittering in the living room. All her stuff mustβve been cleared out by now, the podowner probably putting the place for lease. Sheβd already bought out the storage unit that it was going to be shipped toβthe padkey was somewhere in her inventory back in her cramped quarters; she hadnβt bothered unpacking completelyβthe journey to the Keplon Star was only going to be a month at best, even in a lightweight courier ship like the EMS Hermes.
As she peers out into the simulated aperture projected onto the high, curved ceiling of the shipβs avionics bay, she can almost pick out her homeplanet from the millions, thousands of pinpricks of light that expand outward into the infinity. Distant. Lonely.
Her scars throb for a moment, dull pain flaring up on the side of her face and shoulder. Itβs been months since the accident and the Academy medics did the best they could, but the wound is still alive and hurting, as it so likes to remind her at the most inconvenient of times. She winces and shakes herself out of her thoughts, turning back to the electric wiring sheβd been working on. The lights in the canteen had been flickering at breakfast and Captain Isaak had been adamant that she fix it as soon as possible.
So here she was, hastily finishing off her daily rations in the sub-basement of the EMS while her free hand was typing furiously into the system interface, trying every quick fix in the book.
After the fifth error message, she lets out a frustrated groan and shuts the screen off with a swipe of her pads across the edge and rolls up her sleeves. It seems she was going to have to get her hands dirty for this one.
As she delved into the auxiliary power supply, her hands grew immediately slick with the disgusting kind of sludge that accumulates when your ship runs on refined palladium and is simultaneously poorly maintained. Nose wrinkling as she roots around the grimed-up wiring, she tries not to heave at the smell and tries to think of her mantra, that had her accept this shit job as a courier shipβs maintenance tech when she washed out of RAINI, that she mutters unconsciously under her breath even now, knee-deep in disused systema and wire: Someday, this will be worth it.
Someday, this will be worth it. Sheβll prove herself, work up the chain of command, and rise beyond her station. Sheβs done it once, transforming herself from a dumb kid in the slums of Bairi Yu to a RAINI cadet on the fast track to achieving Imperial rank, and sheβll do it again, academy washout to maintenance tech to something better, something brighter.
Someday, this will all be worth it, but right now, Percy has to gag.
partner requirements
i'm looking for a partner who is 18+ that is very interested in the wider narrative outside of our two characters. i'd like it if we took pains to flesh out the setting and logistics as lovingly as we might flesh out our oc dynamic. a lively ooc is appreciated but not a requirement (i'm very shy at first, so give me a bit to warm up), but a willingness to brainstorm and bringing ideas and opinions to the table is a must - someone who thinks about the contexts and wider systems that shape our characters and the way they move in the world! i'm not exactly opposed to someone rping a pre-existing character with me, but i certainly prefer building from the ground up with both of us having input and workshopping our characters together - i find that process more natural and comfortable. it also keeps us from being too precious with our characters if we create them specifically for the rp - not interested in badass mary sues.
and no racism + otherwise bigoted behavior, ic or ooc, thanks + peace and love
taste & pairings
generally, i mainly do and prefer m// but i'm open to f// or anything besides a cishet pairing. i love complex, even toxic dynamics that are grounded in the world they're set in. exploring dark themes and making extremely flawed characters is my bread and butter, (as long as it complies to the site rules - i don't do smut and anything of that nature, if necessary, would be fade to black). i'm not particularly interested in playing platonic relationships at the moment, but i'm definitely willing to hear out interesting pitches.
my main interests genre-wise are cyberpunk and sci-fi with a healthy dose of psychological horror, but i'm also interested in gaslamp/victorian gothic fantasy, urban fantasy, isekai/transmigration, and superpowers/superhero, alternate history, and dark academia. i'm currently craving sci-fi/cyberpunk action or a sci-fi horror, or perhaps some sort of eldritch horror type storyline mixed with dark academia. but i'm flexible with genre when i like the vibe.
media i'm inspired by include: disco elysium, exandria unlimited: calamity, inu-oh, partizan, the merciless, 17776, homestuck, kill six billion demons, anything by porpentine, orv, all the s-classes i've raised, fallen london, the annihilation trilogy, this is how you lose the time war, saga, rick & morty, eeao, and gideon the ninth - if that helps you get the vibe.
i would sincerely love any pitches or plots matching to the aforementioned tastes and guidelines, but i've provided some plots/blurbs that have been marinating at the back of my mental cabinet, if you're interested in any of these (my play preference is marked with a *)
please pm me if you are interested in rping with me with an introduction, what you're interested in, and optionally, a writing sample.
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