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Apollosarcher,
Lucius Cypher
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5 yrs ago
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Been a while.
8 yrs ago
Back a year later with starbux
9 yrs ago
Wow Typos
9 yrs ago
Life working full time is a vortex of "IM SORRY I CANT POST YET IM SWAMPED WITH WORTH" Sorry ya'll<3;;;
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9 yrs ago
Dang thicc hips, Bomb ass lips, I could rule the world on my fingertips. ~<3
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Bio
Current look and haircut~<3
A Flamboyant and Stylish Mini-Boss has Appeared!
Most Recent Posts
great so we should do this.
I guess it'd be like The Bachelor or the Bacholerette
yall can skip me for now since my charries unconcious for about a post and a half. also, nice fabricant vuv I'm digging the yuri
Rosalind, always the demure, was in her fancy black and red dress, preparing to don her small, quirky RingMaster outfit. So when Vladimir came backstage the Pactress could only smile coyly with her frock down, sitting at her make up mirror. Then he leaned down, murmuring to her in instruction to call a meeting after the show. "We have a problem," He said. Her face went from coy to stoic and angry. She watched him walk away in the mirror, her chin raising in defiance of her reflection.
'Ooohhh~ is that the cologne of... mild panic I smell on our dear managers sweat?' Meesdovah asked within her mind.
"Vladimir is no coward," Rosalind spat back in defense of her dear friend, a mild french accent, long faded, painted over her words. "If he says there is a problem that requires all the ears of our beloved performers, I trust him. Though," She looked over her shoulder, "I've yet to see him in this sort of stress."
'Perhaps you should ease the tension of the poor soul,' Meesdovah said, a smirk in his voice.
"Haha..." She looked down. "My dear Medoh," She murmured faintly as she looked up at the mirror, the reflection of her demon present with his arms folded behind her. "He cares for no ones advances. The only ease I may bring our Dearest Manager is the ease of knowing I can only cause more tension."
=
Sasha stood in the kitchen, singing a tune in russian quietly to himself. He set the cotton candy aside to be made, and focused on making breakfast. Many of the performers were already lining up, demanding food. He set out the food, trying to smile at them... which came off as more of a grimace. With a sigh, he turned from the line to the meat locker. God knows his meal was inside... Huffing, he went inside to one of the pieces of hanging meat and sliced off a good chunk for himself. He ate the slice almost like an apple, a bloody, raw apple made of meat. He blushed before looking down. He didn't like to eat in front of everyone and chose to satisfy his extremely picky belly in the meat locker. Perhaps he should start bringing in a blanket...
'Ooohhh~ is that the cologne of... mild panic I smell on our dear managers sweat?' Meesdovah asked within her mind.
"Vladimir is no coward," Rosalind spat back in defense of her dear friend, a mild french accent, long faded, painted over her words. "If he says there is a problem that requires all the ears of our beloved performers, I trust him. Though," She looked over her shoulder, "I've yet to see him in this sort of stress."
'Perhaps you should ease the tension of the poor soul,' Meesdovah said, a smirk in his voice.
"Haha..." She looked down. "My dear Medoh," She murmured faintly as she looked up at the mirror, the reflection of her demon present with his arms folded behind her. "He cares for no ones advances. The only ease I may bring our Dearest Manager is the ease of knowing I can only cause more tension."
=
Sasha stood in the kitchen, singing a tune in russian quietly to himself. He set the cotton candy aside to be made, and focused on making breakfast. Many of the performers were already lining up, demanding food. He set out the food, trying to smile at them... which came off as more of a grimace. With a sigh, he turned from the line to the meat locker. God knows his meal was inside... Huffing, he went inside to one of the pieces of hanging meat and sliced off a good chunk for himself. He ate the slice almost like an apple, a bloody, raw apple made of meat. He blushed before looking down. He didn't like to eat in front of everyone and chose to satisfy his extremely picky belly in the meat locker. Perhaps he should start bringing in a blanket...
btw... lets see... I made sasha russian so.. perhaps Rosalind should be french
funny we're talking about that... Im actually trying to come into another rp while doing this and its been going on for a while. They're actually super defensive of each other like saying 'ugh no you can't play with us' or 'if you're gonna play with us then you can be the dog' to put it into childish terms. It's not a good feeling and I know what your taking about ice
muahaha vuv I really wanted a gif of Francuer catching Lucille when she fainted but this was a better quality
A dark haired woman, feverish from her battle, walked slowly up a path towards the nearest village. She had been attacked by bandits, whom had sprung onto her in her sleep in the middle of the forest. While she had on her armor and had been battle ready, they had nearly taken her life. If it hadn't been for Ida.... sending out her fire... No, she can't think of the possibility of death. Not until she had the heads of the men whom had scorned her father. Even so, with the death of the bandits and Ida gone, her body was weak. The fever that always came after Ida fought for her came on strong this time... and it seemed to be progressively worse. The medicine she needed was gone, used up as she had planned to purchase more when she got to this village.
A cold sweat chilled her in the night air, Ida in her mind spoke words of anger, pushing her forward to safety but didn't dare possess her once more; fearing it would be too taxing on the weak Ronins form. And struggle the dark haired woman did. She could see the village over the rise, but it was still too far. She saw, up ahead, a woman resting beneath a tree... and it was all she caught a glimpse of before collapsing. Her armor making loud, clanking noises as she fell to the ground.
A cold sweat chilled her in the night air, Ida in her mind spoke words of anger, pushing her forward to safety but didn't dare possess her once more; fearing it would be too taxing on the weak Ronins form. And struggle the dark haired woman did. She could see the village over the rise, but it was still too far. She saw, up ahead, a woman resting beneath a tree... and it was all she caught a glimpse of before collapsing. Her armor making loud, clanking noises as she fell to the ground.
I suppose thats a good enough place to start as any.
It'd be best to start with Noriaki. I suppose.. Fabricant, is Noriaki surrounded by a brothel or is it only one person?
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