Death_Masque
Modern Momento Mori
A crude art, equally elegant and ugly.
After many, many years away from roleplaying, I’m eager to dust the cobwebs off my old original characters, create some new ones, and begin creative writing again. I write almost daily in my current career, but it’s all very drab business nonsense, so I feel I can safely claim the label ’literate’ but no one is immune to mistakes. If you like what you see below please send me a PM with your preferred way of being contacted!
About Me
I’ve indicated the characters I’d prefer to play in bold.
Artist | Muse
An artist living in Paris during the Belle Époque era finds solace and success with an unusual muse.
General/Ruler | Fortune Teller
A conquering general (or king) discovers a blind fortune teller on the road whose astonishingly accurate predictions can lead him to success and victory. The fortune teller is forced to join the opposing character on his campaign or at court.
Scientist | Experiment
For… science?!
Emperor | Concubine
An emperor makes an unusual choice to elevate a flawed man to be his most honored companion. (And OH HONEY the court drama)
Circus Performer/ Circus Freak
I would adore playing this pairing in Victorian England, but I know many people are suckers for the 1920s dust bowl era of carnivals, and I’m open to that too!
→ I’m 29 (Yes, those are my bones you hear creaking in the background)
→ I prefer a third-person perspective with a 2-3+ paragraph minimum.
→ Discord or Google Docs are my preferred platforms but I’m flexible!
→ I am all about dark and moody A E S T H E T I C S, and I adore exploring angsty, dark, and mature themes.
→ I'm pretty much trigger free, but please be upfront with me about anything that might bother you!
→ I prefer partners that are 20+ because I do enjoy some OOC conversation, and I find that it flows more easily with partners closer to my age.
→ I’m overwhelmingly partial to playing M X M pairings, but, if it makes sense for the plot, I’m happy to branch out.
→I adore playing characters who are ostracized by society for some reason, often their physical appearance, but that really have a lot to give to the right person — e.g, Erik from Phantom of the Opera
→I work full time and my career comes first, but I will always let partners know if a time-sensitive project comes up or I have business travel.
→ I prefer a third-person perspective with a 2-3+ paragraph minimum.
→ Discord or Google Docs are my preferred platforms but I’m flexible!
→ I am all about dark and moody A E S T H E T I C S, and I adore exploring angsty, dark, and mature themes.
→ I'm pretty much trigger free, but please be upfront with me about anything that might bother you!
→ I prefer partners that are 20+ because I do enjoy some OOC conversation, and I find that it flows more easily with partners closer to my age.
→ I’m overwhelmingly partial to playing M X M pairings, but, if it makes sense for the plot, I’m happy to branch out.
→I adore playing characters who are ostracized by society for some reason, often their physical appearance, but that really have a lot to give to the right person — e.g, Erik from Phantom of the Opera
→I work full time and my career comes first, but I will always let partners know if a time-sensitive project comes up or I have business travel.
Pairings & Plots I’d Like to Explore
I’ve indicated the characters I’d prefer to play in bold.
Artist | Muse
An artist living in Paris during the Belle Époque era finds solace and success with an unusual muse.
General/Ruler | Fortune Teller
A conquering general (or king) discovers a blind fortune teller on the road whose astonishingly accurate predictions can lead him to success and victory. The fortune teller is forced to join the opposing character on his campaign or at court.
Scientist | Experiment
For… science?!
Emperor | Concubine
An emperor makes an unusual choice to elevate a flawed man to be his most honored companion. (And OH HONEY the court drama)
Circus Performer/ Circus Freak
I would adore playing this pairing in Victorian England, but I know many people are suckers for the 1920s dust bowl era of carnivals, and I’m open to that too!
Writing Samples
Outside the rain was coming down in sheets and every time the door opened even the air conditioning going full tilt couldn’t keep the rush of hot, muggy air from reaching him. Screw monsoon season, he thought to himself. Though he could feel sweat pooling between his shoulders he didn't push up the sleeves of his sweater, the scars and derogatory tattoos were not part of his daily life any longer and to keep them from his mind he kept them covered. It worked, mostly.
As he turned to fill the next order that's when he saw him. He wouldn't have recognized him, not in those clothes, but the tattoo… he would never forget those words, traced in elegant ink across the other man’s cheek till the day he died. The cup he was filling dropped from his fingers, hitting the concrete floor with a crash of ceramic. He didn't cry out as the steaming milk soaked the hems of his jeans. He didn’t do anything, couldn’t do anything but just stare.
Junko, the cashier on shift looked over at him in confusion, took in the mess and tossed him a rag. It thudded against his chest when he made no move to catch it. Finally, the screech of the espresso machine brought him back to himself and he was now very aware of both the smell and feeling of hot milk on his jeans and on the floor around him. It was enough to make him finally bend over, though still dazed, to begin to mop up the mess.
What did it matter to him what that flake was doing now? He had his own life to live, and nightmares enough.
As he turned to fill the next order that's when he saw him. He wouldn't have recognized him, not in those clothes, but the tattoo… he would never forget those words, traced in elegant ink across the other man’s cheek till the day he died. The cup he was filling dropped from his fingers, hitting the concrete floor with a crash of ceramic. He didn't cry out as the steaming milk soaked the hems of his jeans. He didn’t do anything, couldn’t do anything but just stare.
Junko, the cashier on shift looked over at him in confusion, took in the mess and tossed him a rag. It thudded against his chest when he made no move to catch it. Finally, the screech of the espresso machine brought him back to himself and he was now very aware of both the smell and feeling of hot milk on his jeans and on the floor around him. It was enough to make him finally bend over, though still dazed, to begin to mop up the mess.
What did it matter to him what that flake was doing now? He had his own life to live, and nightmares enough.
Hasu was only able to finish half the ice cream the other held out for him. It was good, but suddenly the scent and taste of rich vanilla seemed to slowly sour as the rain fell harder and Ryeon began to chatter on and on about his life - a concert his boyfriend had taken him too while scouting for new talent, the bad drinks at the venue, and the amazing dinner and wine that had more than made up for them at some posh new French place.
He bowed his head as further, hiding his face further in the shadow of the cap. He realized, as the other told him about his boyfriend having to goad him into eating the escargot and how they already had plans to go back next weekend, this was the first time in weeks he had even left the house.
With that understanding came a rush of bitterness and real resentment towards the empath that surprised him. He tried to shove it down, and addressed the other mentally, [That is good you have things…], and then, forcing himself to go on, he continued [… to look forward to].
He only had one thing keeping him in the world, Ecks, and even some days that wasn’t enough. Every night he went to sleep filled with the fear that when he woke up the shaman would be gone halfway around the globe again, coming back weeks or years later with some excuse or another. A choked sob came from the back of his throat and he turned his face away from the empath.
He felt another pang of jealousy at Ryeon welling up so bright it even eclipsed the physical pain that was his existence. The other was so full of life, a whole person. Everyone liked the kid, and he was fun to be around no doubt. The oracle knew he was the ugly thing in the corner everyone tried hard not to stare at.
“Sometimes…” he wheezed, using his physical voice, a small thing and that cracked a little from disuse. “I just want this… the pain to stop. I want to go to sleep and not have to worry about the morning.”
There, he had finally admitted it to someone, put the words out there. Around them, the rain became a downpour around them and the thunder rumbled.
He bowed his head as further, hiding his face further in the shadow of the cap. He realized, as the other told him about his boyfriend having to goad him into eating the escargot and how they already had plans to go back next weekend, this was the first time in weeks he had even left the house.
With that understanding came a rush of bitterness and real resentment towards the empath that surprised him. He tried to shove it down, and addressed the other mentally, [That is good you have things…], and then, forcing himself to go on, he continued [… to look forward to].
He only had one thing keeping him in the world, Ecks, and even some days that wasn’t enough. Every night he went to sleep filled with the fear that when he woke up the shaman would be gone halfway around the globe again, coming back weeks or years later with some excuse or another. A choked sob came from the back of his throat and he turned his face away from the empath.
He felt another pang of jealousy at Ryeon welling up so bright it even eclipsed the physical pain that was his existence. The other was so full of life, a whole person. Everyone liked the kid, and he was fun to be around no doubt. The oracle knew he was the ugly thing in the corner everyone tried hard not to stare at.
“Sometimes…” he wheezed, using his physical voice, a small thing and that cracked a little from disuse. “I just want this… the pain to stop. I want to go to sleep and not have to worry about the morning.”
There, he had finally admitted it to someone, put the words out there. Around them, the rain became a downpour around them and the thunder rumbled.
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