Shiva

Shiva's old art thread

No longer relevant

Roses are red, violets are blue, I want a 1x1 with you!

@Rushdieyou

Awesome! Any particular ideas in mind?

Roses are red, violets are blue, I want a 1x1 with you!

What's up my dudes? I'm Shiva. Nice to meet you.

I've been rping for about eight years now. I started out as a wee lass script rping warrior cats on a site called Horseland (ah, those were the days...) and I have (thankfully) come a long way.

As far as genres I like, I'm pretty much fine with anything that isn't NSFW, werewolves, vampires, ghosts, and things like that. I love sci-fi, fantasy, western, medieval, romance, adventure, and pretty much anything.

Not gonna lie, I am particularly biased towards rps with romantic tones in it, but only if there is actual substance as well. I want a story and an adventure, not a romance novel. Think of "Me Before You" VS like... "Black Panther," or "The Lunar Chronicles" series. There's romance in all of these, but the last two are mostly about the story, less about the couple(s). There's a difference in a roleplay that has romance just for the sake of romance, even if the characters aren't compatible, and a roleplay that has a good plot with romance in it that was carefully forged and built, that lets the relationship between the two characters develop naturally. I personally absolutely adore the latter, and would love to make a new friend that will obsess over our OCs and the story with me.

If you're interested, feel free to hit me up!

Writing sample

Context: This is my opening post in a spy/thriller/romance I have going with a long time buddy, and I hope it gives you a good idea of my style of writing. Feel free to look over my recent posts for more!



_{Moscow, Russia
03:24}

Cases involving human trafficking were always dangerous. It was a business run by the most detestable scum of humanity, those who care not about the lives they're ruining by their actions. Cases involving Russia were also always dangerous. Ties with the gigantic country were strained, every interaction having to be carefully planned and worded, everything planned to avoid another cold war. With the threat of nuclear weapons, another war could mean irreversible damage to the already fragile planet they live on. A human trafficking case in Russia was a delicate, and deadly mission, one that Delilah rather wished she'd refused.

It wasn't difficult to find a trail; human trafficking ran rampant in Moscow. All she needed to do was pretend to be an easy mark. Some tight fitting clothing, night at a club, pretending to be drunk, that was usually all it took to lure them out. She spotted him at that club, and guessed they must be working the same case again. This time, though, it seemed he was going to use her as bait.

'Typical,' she had thought.

When the men approached Delilah and took her to their car, he was following them. What neither of them had anticipated, however, was that they'd been compromised. The last thing Delilah saw was the butt of a pistol coming down on her head, and then everything went black.

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

There was a groan, and slowly the currently blonde woman's eyes opened, her vision blurry at first. The back of her head ached, and the light above their heads made it feel like a vise was cracking into her skull. Oh, and there were Russians talking. Great. Quickly assessing the situation, Delilah recognized her rival, glancing at him for only a moment before moving on to the next person. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"The other one is awake," One of the men said.

"Good, you go take care of her."

"Hello, darling," The man greeted as he approached Delilah. She recognized him as her target at the club.

"Ah, Pavlov. Somehow this doesn't look like a hotel room to me," Delilah said, watching him come over.

"How observant you are! Yes, this is the room where I ask questions and you give me answers."

"And if I don't give you answers?" She asked.

"Then I put a bullet in you."

"Come now, Pav, that's hardly very polite."

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. "Enough. Who do you work for?"

"McDonald's at the moment. Currently looking for a career change. I thought airplane hostess looked like a nice job, and I've got the body for it."

There was the sound of a gun being loaded, and then a scream as a bullet pierced through the flesh of the woman's leg. A string of curses was muttered, and then a yelp as the barrel of the pistol was pressed against the wound. "The next one goes in your head. Who do you work for?"

"Go to hell."

She closed her eyes, expecting to feel another gun shot as the pistol clicked, and she flinched when the bang rang out through the room. Instead of shooting her, however, the bullet was aimed at the wall, as it had been intended to scare her this time, not harm her. This sort of psychological and physical torture continued with many variations, every now and then returning to the gun as they made her believe they were through, that they were convinced she wasn't going to tell them anything. Several times Delilah had come to grips with death, accepting it, and then the bullet flew past her and into the wall.

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

_{Moscow, Russia
03:24}

Cases involving human trafficking were always dangerous. It was a business run by the most detestable scum of humanity, those who care not about the lives they're ruining by their actions. Cases involving Russia were also always dangerous. Ties with the gigantic country were strained, every interaction having to be carefully planned and worded, everything planned to avoid another cold war. With the threat of nuclear weapons, another war could mean irreversible damage to the already fragile planet they live on. A human trafficking case in Russia was a delicate, and deadly mission, one that Delilah rather wished she'd refused.

It wasn't difficult to find a trail; human trafficking ran rampant in Moscow. All she needed to do was pretend to be an easy mark. Some tight fitting clothing, night at a club, pretending to be drunk, that was usually all it took to lure them out. She spotted him at that club, and guessed they must be working the same case again. This time, though, it seemed he was going to use her as bait.

'Typical,' she had thought.

When the men approached Delilah and took her to their car, he was following them. What neither of them had anticipated, however, was that they'd been compromised. The last thing Delilah saw was the butt of a pistol coming down on her head, and then everything went black.

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

_{𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜, 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎.
𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟶.
𝟷𝟺:𝟹𝟷}

The first time they'd met was nearly a decade ago, sheer luck. They'd been each working separate cases. It was the dead of winter, and the city of lights was painted in white. She was freezing, having spent all night on a stakeout and most of that day. There was a coffee shop across the street from the target's home, and that was where he was. It gave him a good vantage point to run surveillance (the smell of coffee was an added bonus). They didn't think much of each other, only exchanging a polite "hello" and "thank you" after she ordered her coffee, the whole thing very routine for both of them. The only thing either of them can remember thinking is that her French was very good for someone who was obviously not French (the ever-so-slight American accent when she said "latte" gave her away, not to mention the pale and freckled complexion was more likely to be of Irish descent), and that his jaw looked sharp enough to cut glass.

_{𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚒, 𝙳𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚘.
𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟹𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟷
𝟸𝟶:𝟷𝟻}

The second time they'd met was a coincidence but less luck was involved. Ivory smuggling. He was there to get in touch with a contact that had gone silent for well over a month and she was there for the head of the organization. The business was detestable to her, being an animal lover. Especially detestable as elephants were her favorite animal (She'd once been chased by a rhino, so they could go to hell for all she cared. She was just upset about the elephants). At any rate, she was moments away from breaking up this smuggling ring. Or rather, she was moments away from taking them all out. His job was to find his contact and then extract information about the whereabouts of certain people. "You" was the only word they said, recognition having caused their trigger fingers to halt as they both stared down the barrel of the other's pistol. "Do you two need a moment?" a smuggler had asked. In a split second, the two were fighting back to back, becoming allies for the moments that it took them to take out the smugglers that were present, leaving one alive for him to carry out his mission. They parted ways without so much as a farewell.

_{𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚞𝚔𝚝𝚞, 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚒
𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟷
𝟶𝟸:𝟹𝟻}

Third time's a charm. His case had nothing to do with hers but since he'd caught wind of her in the area he wanted to make sure she'd keep her nose out of his business. One interference was more than enough. However, since he was not allowed to terminate her he had to get a little more creative with his approach. She had been in one of the local bars -doing what, he knew not but he couldn't care less- when he found her. Alone. It took patience yet fortunately he eventually managed to spike her drink. When she noticed something was off and tried to leave, he followed her until she nearly collapsed in an alley outside. He left her tied up in her motel room. She didn't bother him and he completed his mission without any occurrences.

_{𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚗, 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍
𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟹
𝟶𝟾:𝟺𝟽}

He had begun actively avoiding crossing paths with her ever since. Thus, the fourth time they'd met had been more of an unpleasant shock than a surprise. Today he was Isaac Strauss, the German, here on a business trip to finalize some deals for his 'employer'. He had been walking along the street, briefcase in hand, and was approaching his target to plant a tracking device when a tourist got in the way. Bleached hair, blue eyes, artificially tanned complexion ('Typical American' he had thought), a face full of tacky makeup, and a very poor attempt at the country's mother tongue. He tried to brush her off but she had insisted so he forced a smile and directed her to the hotel she was looking for. The entire conversation lasted less than a minute by the time he looked back, the target was gone. Later that night he remembered where he had seen that face before and shattered the mirror in his bathroom.

_{𝙻𝚊𝚜 𝚅𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚜, 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊
𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟻
𝟷𝟶:𝟻𝟾}

Ironically this was likely what he would consider their most notable encounter even though he can barely recall any of it. All he knows for sure is that she was somehow the reason he ended up getting his head shoved into a table by some bouncer at a high-end club (he still has the tiny scar under the left corner of his jaw because of it) and woke up with a migraine the size of the moon the next morning. This would not be the first time he considered permanently silencing her. Unfortunately his agency did not permit it, something about delicate truces.

_{𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚊, 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗
𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟶𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷8
𝟷𝟸:𝟻𝟺}

The two crossed paths many times over the years, often assigned the same case but with different outcomes in mind. They donned different disguises every time but ultimately reached a point where they were able to recognize the other almost instantly regardless of the getups. After all, there was only so much that hair and clothing can do. Eventually yielding to the fact that they would see their counterpart quite often, they started a game of "who can get to the mark first," and frequently left behind false clues to throw the other off track. Nothing major, just enough to give them an advantage. One particularly notable instance of this was the fifteenth time they met, when they were both trying to find the same contact, and had been fed information that the other agency was attempting to take out their mutual interest. Naturally this resulted in elevated levels of aggression from both parties. Before it was discovered they had been baited with false information there were several incidents involving grenades, coffee with salt instead of sugar, sabotage, and quite a bit of name-calling that neither are proud of. Eventually they realized that they were both were trying to protect the contact, and reverted to the usual shenanigans. Although pouring salt in coffee became a bit of an inside joke (if you can call a death glare from a very angry red-head threatening to kill you an inside joke). In the end he got to the contact first, as she had dismissed some actual clues as just being nonsense that he had planted. She later flipped him off in the airport as they passed each other going back to their respective countries.

_{𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢...}

This was not how he expected to see her again.

ᵐᵉᵐᵉᶰᵗᵒ ♱ ᵐᵒʳᶤ

≎Delilah Lilith Matsuov≎

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I am iron, and I forge myself."
-Delilah Lilith Matsuov

≎Information≎ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ American national. Skilled at hand-to-hand combat and long range ops. Notable stamina which makes her well suited for ops that require a lot of traveling on foot. ≎Notes≎ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Rather stubborn and mouthy, but respectful to her superiors. She isn't afraid of conflict or standing up for what she believes in. To her friends, she is witty, affectionate, and warm. ≎Brief History≎ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Her past is nothing much to speak of. She has the typical past of any other agent; orphan who did well in school that was plucked up by the CIA. At eighteen she joined the agency and started her training.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Age: 32 ≎ Gender: F ≎ Race: Caucasian ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Height: 5'10 ≎ Weight: 196 ≎ Build: Muscular & stocky ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Eyes: Gray ≎ Hair: Brown ≎ Skin Tone: Pale ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Facts [+] Favorite color is blue. Allergic to pineapple. Coffee order is always a caramel latte with whipped-cream. She even has the stuff to make it at home. Left handed. Loves dancing. Likes a loud environment. Audio stimuli helps her think. Listens to classical music a lot. Can't stand cheese on her food.