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Hey, thanks for swinging by, and stuff.

Relevant information is as follows.

Time zone
- GMT+1

Preferred RPs
- High Casual to Advanced.
- Fandom RPs, (mainly Naruto.)
- Superhero RPs.
- Superhuman RPs.
- Mutant RPs.

- PMs.
- Discord.

RP Experience
- I have been RPing for about ten years.

Personality Traits
- Depressed fuck.
- Broody asshole.
- Trying to get better.

- Writing.
- Meeting new people.
- Making characters.

Personal Shit
- Age, (26).
- Country, (Sweden).
- Gender, (Male).

Most Recent Posts

Location - Home/School.

Interactions - None.

'A skeletal hand reached for Joseph's neck, it's cracking knuckles echoing throughout the darkness. It offered little more than a fright, the boy's flashlight failing him as they would, in a situation most dire. Though he reached for the blade offered by a trusty friend, he could not hinder the consuming blanket of doubt from washing over him. Joseph stumbled, his back hitting the dust filled planks nailed to the attic wall, his shivering frame nearly presenting him an unforgiving floo-..,' 

Lucifer's fingers danced across the keyboard in a rhythmic fashion, their constant contact with each key a second nature, before the young author's train of thought was abruptly halted. Turning his attention to the dog who had leaped onto his lap, the boy could do little but laugh, wrapping his arms around the plush, fluffy and soft body of his most beloved friend. "Hey, Cerberus," Lucifer nuzzled his nose against the canine's snout, earning a lick to the face.

"Lucy!" A voice rang out, earning the teenager's attention as he pushed his computer chair out, turning those large, brown eyes toward the corridor outside his room. "Get ready for school, kiddo'!" 

It was quite easy for the aspiring author to forget the passage of time while focused on that screen, his eyes scanning every single word as it traveled from this mind, towards his fingers and ultimately to the electronic device in front of him. Sadly, he could not spend every passing hour indulging himself in a world far more interesting than that of which he called hearth and home. "Wish I could bring you, Berry." Lucifer managed a soft sigh before standing, the dog still in his arms, "alas, my prince, I must leave you behind, for the crusade demands my attention..," Lucifer spoke dramatically, Cerberus looking at his owner with a tilted head. "Make this not harder than it is, Berry, I shalt return, of that I am sure..."

"Stop romancing the dog and get out!" The moment, one could say, was cut short. 

"Wait for me," Lucifer winked, placing a kiss on Cerberus' snout before returning the dog to the floor. He reached for his bag, tossed it over his shoulder and started out of the room, before abruptly stopping in his steps. Backtracking, Lucifer hurried to his computer and proceeded to save his updates, and shut down the program. "Bye, dad," the teen slipped into his shoes before earning a kiss to his forehead.

"You need a boyfriend, dude," James grinned, flicking his son's forehead, moments after it was kissed. 

"Can't you be bothered that I'm gay, like normal parents?" The boy smirked, rubbing his head from the vicious assault. 

"I grew used to it when you told me how hot Shakira's dress was, now go and learn stuff," James opened the door, chuckling before playfully pushing his son out.

"Adios, papa," Lucifer winked, offering his father a finger wave before his ears were subsequently covered by the earphones ever so often present upon his head. The two had a close relationship, to be sure, one others would think cringe-worthy or beautiful, considering. Though, for the young student, he had little interest in obtaining friends and even a smaller desire to engage with the gathering of crowds. Though a part of the art clique, one could say, Lucifer maintained a scarce presence, around others. They often found him odd, weird, or in lack of better terms, 'freaky'. He didn't mind, of course. In a way, he would 'wear it like armor', in the words of Tyrion Lannister. 

The boy lived close to Vinehurst High, a mere walk from the school, where he enjoyed listening to music and envisioning the next chapter of his story. He posted between two and three chapters every day in an episodic fashion for whomever to read, and had managed to acquire somewhat of a following. Though Lucifer enjoyed interacting with his fans, yes, he had those, they would be surprised to learn how secluded he actually was.

Even so, Lucifer was not afraid to break the stereotype. He was not shy, he simply did not seek company. He did not have bad self-esteem, he merely had nothing to prove. The author was hard to anger, and difficult to gain attention from due to his daydreaming nature, but he did have one button which conjured forth his namesake in a manner of seconds. He could still remember the day he punched another boy in the face for snatching Lucifer's notes from his hands. A meeting with the principle swiftly came to greet him, and authority was more shocked by the event than anyone else. Lucifer was, after all, an incredibly well-behaved boy. 

Just don't fuck with his notes.

Opening his locker, an onlooker would immediately see the neatly rowed stack of notebooks, and none of them were used for schoolwork. A builder had their workshop, and he had his. Having mastered the art of walking and writing simultaneously, Lucifer eventually dropped down on a bench, where he would proceed to wait for class to begin, his eyes firmly set on the pages in his hands.
Seconded, I did as well.


Here's my character, nerd, with a not-real image because I find them disturbing.

Outsider weirdo author, will work on his soon.
This looks really interesting. I'd be willing to keep an eye on this and join. As for Domain, I was thinking, can it be an Idea rather than something physical? Like, can you make a God of War or a God of Protection, etc? I would want to make a God of Death, (I know, original), or would you prefer Gods of the elements?
Oh, hey, Metro. I'd be interested in joining and making a weirdo outsider who is an aspiring author.
Well this is most certainly interesting. I’ll work on something when I get home.

I love the first one. Confirmed, Willow's wearing it.

Time of Day Early Morning
Location Dormitory Kitchens - Dormitory Corridor
Interacting with @CaptainMarvel@Lurking Shadow@OrkytheOrc

The kitchen was getting crowded, and fast. It was difficult to keep up with the massive comings and goings filtering through the doorway, but it was getting less comfortable by the moment. Given what the reptile had said, Willow could only offer a single return, his eyes turning to lay fixed upon the orc as he re-entered the room. "Then cut him into pieces..," the boy frowned, turning to the kettle before turning the fire off. Serendipity reared its lovely head towards the young sorcerer, given how he had finished making the meal now prepared for dinner. "This place is getting way too crowded, for me." Willow sighed as he muttered quietly, reaching for a small loaf of bread he had baked a day prior. The wonderful scent of newly baked bread in the morning was something very little could compare to, alas that was not the case this hour. Rather, as people were slipping into the kitchen, Willow took the chance to slip out. His slight frame and tiny size would surely aid in a stealthy escape, that tail being the last thing one would see of the little creature as he made himself scarce. 

Dropping down on a bench in the corridor outside, Willow reached into his shoulder bag and produced a notebook. Those razor sharp teeth rowing his mouth easily bit into the loaf he had taken, a long, slender black haired tail gently resting on his lap as he rummaged after a pencil within the confines of his bag. "What a fucking circus," Blackmore stretched, placing his hands behind his head as he abruptly used Willow's lap as a pillow. "What's it gonna' take for you to off that orc, anyways'?"

"What good would that do?" Willow responded, one dainty clawed had on the bread loaf and another on the pen, working on a song he had begun writing earlier. ""Just ignore it, and it'll walk into a wall or something." The sorcerer finished, tracing his pen against the page of his book, writing out the words as they came to mind. Lately, he hadn't had much time to focus on his music. Blood Magic had confiscated the most of his free hours where he needed to master the various arts accredited to the form. Blood runes were powerful, but required precision and focus, both of which could be difficult, depending on what Blackmore was doing in the background. At times, the shade would help, assisting Willow as the boy's analytical thoughts were given flesh, in the form of his very own figment. Indeed, it was fair to say that Blackmore's behavior was affected by Willow's state of mind. 

"Think anyone would care? Scales over there seems to be getting along with Green-Freak, just melt them both and call it an accident. Say it was the snake. Like, he poisoned the orc, and the orc fought back." Blackmore tapped his chin, thinking it over.

"And they both happened to die from necrosis? It's rather easy to see if it was me," Willow raised an eyebrow, looking down at the reflection resting upon his lap. "Stop with the killing talk. I have enough trouble controlling my powers, as is."

"Because you're trying to limit yourself. You're so fucking afraid of hurting others, that you end up crippling yourself." The shade added, "They way you made our captors fall apart? Hah! The fucking screams, dude. It was amazing, best thing ever." Blackmore finished, with a smirk. He wasn't wrong. Seeing those orcs withering away at a rapid pace, their skin blackening to the color of charcoal as cracked and fell apart with blood mixing into rotted meat, it brought a sense of satisfaction to the small Enuri. Poetic justice, they called it. What goes around, comes around. It only made sense. 

Willow's internal powers, his ability to conjure and command necrotic energy as if second nature, it came at a price, one he was consistently paying. His slight frame, pale skin and scrawny shape weren't all attested to his species. Necromancy was powerful, but also dangerous. More so than the other forces of magic, due to its life-sapping nature. No matter how much Willow ate, no matter how much he trained, he would remain like this, pale and small. Divine energies burned like a crackling fire, and the darkness of Necromancy was more soothing than a siren's song. He'd be lying if the boy claimed to understand his nature. He did not, by any stretch of the imagination. The guild kept him under close watch, and maintained a strict set of rules for its students. The only thing Willow had been able to truly understand about his powers was that the bone colored energy caused an immense pain along with the biological devastation it brought. However, for him, the very same energy felt almost like silk as it coated his skin. It was a lovely sensation, as if running his hand through the softest fur. Truly a riddle, most of all for Willow himself. 
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