Recent Statuses

2 mos ago
Current It's finals and everything feels awful. Work makes me want to stick a fork in my eye and is it time for bed yet?
6 mos ago
this place has gotten very......silent
9 mos ago
Anyone for a Haikyuu Rp?
1 like
10 mos ago
I'm literally choking over the amount of rps that I got ghosted on and THEY WERE SO FUCKING GOOD TOO IM DYING WTF
10 mos ago
Ino and Sakura's friendship was so damn sweet. FUCK YOU SAKURA FOR RUINING FOR A FUCKING BOY
1 like


I'm 20
I have 3 part time jobs
I'm a full time student
I write fics for Teen Wolf on my blog
I like things and I do shit, rp with me.

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Most Recent Posts

This sounds interesting >.>
In « Pamma » 3 mos ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
It was dark, for white some time. His body felt nothing, moved little. Everything Nasim did was purely dependent upon the bodies natural instinct to survive. It worked tirelessly to repair itself, body blazing with a cold sweat fever. The air around him was ice cold, dropping his temperature yet a fever raged inside of him. Several bones were fractured, some sprained, a few broken. It was mostly his ribs and left ankle, though most of the damage was avoided thanks to the beats the human had no knowledge of existing, save for ancient tales of a spirit that watched over their townspeople in the olden times.

They were nothing but fairytales to whisper to children. They ignited dreams and whispers of other mystical creatures. They were nothing but fabels least that's what Nasim was convinced of. He wouldn't learn of his mistake for several days. He was cold and working on recovery without anything more than a warm furred body wrapped around him.

The day after being taken to the cave, the human stirred for only a moment. Heavy eyelids fluttered yet did not open. Whatever consciousness was trying to claw forwards lost its battle fairly quickly. The third day was silent, a soft groan of pain here and there but there was no big change until the fifth day. That day Nasim did more than groan or let his eyelids flutter.

No, his eyes opened, cracking ever so slightly to peer up at the world. His head ached and his throat was dry. His tongue pressed out only to swipe over dry, cracked lips. Nasim groaned, fingers twitching at his sides. He struggled to move, body slowly coming to as he worked on moving his limbs.

Everything hurt to a nearly blinding degree. He didnt remember much of what happened, only a towering wall of white, a pounding roar, and then darkness. His chest burned with each inhale of breathe, the effort to sit up proving futile as his body refused to cooperate. He was in too much pain, too weak to do anything.

A cry bubbled up, weak and pitiful. Nasim didn't know where he was or why. He could only assume he was dragged here by some wild animal for whatever reason. If that was the case then why was he alive now? The question was fleeting as he turned his head, groaning as the pain flared, tingling up the back of his neck and spreading around the top of his skull.

Tears brimmed, a choked sob, as the pain verged on too much.

He didn't understand.

Where was he?

Why was he here?

Where was his father? Mother? Sister?

Nothing made sense!
In « Pamma » 4 mos ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay

All encompassing blackness. It was all that Nasim could see. His body was heavy, as if made of stone. Any attempt at moving only left him with a flaring pain. It never made any visible sign, not that the human was aware of such things. All he knew was black, inky, suffocating darkness. Had he died? Was this the end of his life, betrayed by two of his own kind on the day that he was to become a man. He wasn't even a man yet, at least not in the eyes of his people, since he had been cut down before he was able to complete this challenge. That meant he would die a boy, not even being able to come of age before he was slain.

It wasn't fair. There was no way this could be his life, an ache forming in his chest, only adding to the pain rolling through his body. He wanted to scream, to fight, to rage, but he couldn't move, locked within his own body as a creature of myth carried him to saftey at the risk to its own healthy. Nasim was unaware of this, convinced he'd been taken before his time, a sob bubbling up but never escaping. He could feel the burn of tears that welled in his eyes, slipping down his icy cheeks.

He didn't want to die.

Not like this.

It wasn't fair!


Further down the mountain, the men gasped for air, hidden away in a small cave as the snow roared over them. They'd miscalculated the blast, how much slow it would displace. Shivering as nothing by cold wrapped around them, the two started a fire, choosing to rest until the roar of the mountain ebbed. They could dig their way out come morning, but for now they would stay, in the warmth of a fire and rejuvenate. Their plan was a success. They just had to get back down to the main land, let the parents mourn the lost of their eldest and then buy them out without a challenger.
Banned for speaking in the third person
In « Pamma » 5 mos ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
It was time.

He was of age now, a pack weighing nearly thirty pounds strapped to his back. A jacket made of the fur of the very animals they hunted, long, silky black hair braided down his back. Square shoulders rose and fell with a soft sigh as brown orbs stared at the unseeable top of the mountain he was to climb. A passage into manhood that everyone male from his tribe was to make. Led by two older men who'd completed his journey, he would be taken up the mountain, left for a week, expected to survive and make his way back down the mountain on his own. In the end, he would have become one with the forces of nature, found his true self, become a man that could work hard, contribute to his small tribe in these Northern woods. It was a pride of every one here, the young boy, soon to be man, able to feel the happy eyes of his father on his back before a large hand clapped onto his shoulder. There was warm smile on his face, one that filled Nasim with a pride he would fulfill in a weeks time. The young man was sure he'd complete this task with flying colors. He would survive this week and come home a man. He would take over the lands his father owned, find himself a suitable wife, have kids to take over his lands once they became men and then so on and so forth.

It was a simple dream that Nasim had, but they were a simple people, yet untouched by the modern world that ravaged and raged in their cities and towns, swept up in trivial matters that wouldn't hold a candle to things that mattered in the long run. How sad they must be, not that Nasim knew, locked away in such lives, nothing more than cogs in a wheel. If he ever saw that world, at first he would be in awe of their towering huts and thin clothes, but then he would be sad, sad that they were trapped by money and greed and technology. They would never smell the scent of clean hair, the coolness of crystal blue water. Not once would they know the satisfaction of working the land and growing crops to feed a village, know the joy of watching children run and play down their streets and play their games. They wouldn't understand the pride of a hunt to feed a village. They just wouldn't understand.

"I believe in you," Mameesh, Nasim's father spoke. The man pat his son on the shoulder before stepping back. It was a simple departure before Latika, Nasim's mother stepped forwards. Arms wound around her son, pulling him into a tight hug. She was proud of him, hope swelling in her chest. There was no doubt that he would return in one piece, a man. Her young boy reaching such a landmark brought tears to her eyes.

"You take care of yourself now," she whispered softly before pulling away. Nasim only chuckled, nodding to the woman as she cupped his cheeks. "My son, a beautiful young man," she cooed. Nasim flushed lightly which only served to make his mother laugh before releasing him. Seventeen and yet he got embarrassed so easily.

"Sim! Sim!" A young voice called out to him. His young sister, only five years old, raised her arms to him to be lifted. Of course the teen obliged and lifted her in his strong arms just for her to throw her arms around her neck. "Bring me back a fishy!" She declared.

"I'm not sure if they'll have fish on the mountain, Aramyth," he informed which made the young girl pout. "Buuut," He cooed. "If I find a wolf I'll make you a pretty pelt out of its fur," He whispered conspiratorily. Of course the child squealed with joy.

"Nasim! It's time to go," Jaquer, one of two of his guides called out. He was a stern man of thirty-five. The teen nodded, kissing his baby sister on the cheek, giving one final goodbye to his parents and jogging over. Herik, a man of twenty-eight flanked Nasim and Jaquer, the second guide to lead him up the mountain, to make sure he made it an agreeable distance up the mountain.

The village saw him off, cheering for the teen as the trio began their adventure up the mountain. Moving was harder than one would imagine, the thick furs on his body to keep him warm hindering his usual movements. His furred boots were also rather heavy on his feet, like three pound weights on each foot. He was out of breath rather quickly but refused to complain, sweat clinging to his skin beneath his furs. How long they had been hiking, he had no clue, but could only hope that it would end soon.

"This seems like a good place," Jaquer spoke, halting his steps. He shared a look with the man at the back, a subtle nod shared between them that the youngest didn't notice. Nasim moved further up the trail, a small landing jutting out from the side of the mountain. He smiled, turning to his guides, intent on thanking them only to feel a fist collide with his face.

Nasim stumbled back as the shock reverbrated through his body. Confusion washed over his mind, eyes wide as he stared at his guides turned attackers. Their faces were blank, emotionless maskes, Jaquer advancing for another blow while Herik dug through his pack. Fear gripped Nasim's heart, feet scrambling back from the older male.

"Wh-What are...What are you doing?!" Nasim demanded, hands raising to block the second swing. It certainly bruised his forearms, a distraction while Herik set the charges. If there was no heir to Mameesh's lands, then they would be up for sale and Herik and Jaquer would be the top bidders for that sweet chunk of money that old geezer sat on.

"That's something you'll never get to know," Jaquer growled, fist connecting with Nasim's cheek again and sending him sprawling. The world went black, body falling limp in the snow while the two older men scrambled away. The hit was only enough to knock him down, send his world into a black oblivion for only a few minutes, world spinning as he came to. A hand settled on his forehead, iron on his tongue from the blood seeping in through his cut cheek. The teen spit out the crimson liquid, flinching as it stained the pure white snow at his side.

"What the hell?" he groaned, previous events coming to him slowly. The moment they did, Nasim was on his feet, rushing down the trail that the two older males had sent him down. "JAQUER! HERIK! YOU ASSHOLES!" He cursed them as he ran but it was too late. The earth shook with a resounding boom, the teens voice the signal that the plotter's needed to set off the charges.

Instantly Nasim froze, turning over his shoulder and staring.

It was white.

Everything was a pure white while the ground shook. It was like the earth itself was growling, warning him, telling him to run for his life. Billowing clouds of powder rushed towards him, a surreal feeling really. It was almost like it wasn't happening, the way the snow moved so slowly, thick chunks falling rapidly towards him. He tried to pinch himself, tell himself that it was a dream. He would wake up soon enough in his bed with his mother and father and sister and tell them of such a strange dream only...

it wasn't a dream.
I feel terrible
I never saw this and I'm sooooooooooo sorry >.<
if you're still interested I can do it
and since it's been a month since you posted that, I'll do it for free
I'm sooooo sorry
In « Pamma » 7 mos ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
Nasim Salim Malik

Character Quote/Motto

-Nasim Salim Malik


- male

- 17

- athletic
-ocher toned
-deep chocolate eyes
-strong jaw
-5ft 11in
-long black hair with a few braids

P E R S O N A L I T Y / T R A I T S


-Born in a small village in Alaska, Nasim is the son of a large landowner.
He is not the richest, nor is he in line to lead their tiny town, more of a tribe than a village really. He learned to farm and to hunt, excelling at the latter early on in life. His favorite was the bow, silent, swift, and easy on the prey.
You had hunters that liked to take their time, but he hunted not for sport but for necessity. His tribe waisted no food and therefore, he had never learned the art of gluttonous hunting like that in the other fifty states of his country. Sometimes he wondered if that place even existed. In their tundra land,
where grass only peeked out of snowy drifts during the warmer months, it was hard to believe that there was anything outside of his tiny home surrounded by ice and snow and unforgiving animals. This was all he knew, all he cared to know. He loved his village, its traditions, especially their legends. The stories about the fantastical beasts that lay outside of their lands. He had heard about the water creatures, the mountain Yeti's, the viscous wolf's in the woods that turned into men to sneak into their homes and steal them away. They were things that used to keep him up at night but now left him wondering into early mornings. What really lay out there?

—Father: Mameesh
-Mother: Latika
-Younger Sister: Aramyth


The first plot seems really fun. I'd love to give it a go :)
@Spud take your time! lord knows I did >.>
reply to: @Remipa Awesome

Nothing about this insane fuck scared nor intimidated the girl. His voice was beginning to grate on her nerves, even more so than they had before. Another calming breath was taken before she stepped inside, tucking the stuffed dog into the loop of her belt, keeping him close at hand for leverage. The bunker was a...decent size. It could, perhaps, fit a small family. Just from the looks of it, she couldn't tell much about it's contents. Judging by the mental state of this guy, she didn't have high hopes. Perhaps she could look it over, check out how usable it was. If so, she could crash here for a little while. She liked being alone, but a bunker was never a bad thing, far safer than roaming the woods as she had been up until now. A nice good sleep, without having to stay alert in case of attack, be it human, lurker, or animal, would be a nice change from her usual routine.

Brown eyes flicked towards the injured party, rolling as she realized that he was still yapping about her stealing his shit. "Shut up before I leave your ass outside to be eaten," she grunted, making sure he was in, eyeing his movements. She didn't need him going for her dropped weapons. Her attention shifted towards them, debating on weather or not to grab them. Lips pursed, deciding that she was better safe then sorry. One foot held the door open, hands placing her weapons back with practiced ease and efficiency. The door fell closed behind her, a hard click as bolts latched, keeping any unwanted intruders at bay. The bodies of decaying lurkers still lay across the steps, making the path in or out a pain in the ass. The air inside the bunker was thick and stale. It made the girls face scrunch beneath the mask, measured steps leading her further inside.

There were three main places of interest to her; the kitchen, the weapons cabinet, and the bathroom, not necessarily in that order. "Go sit. If you don't piss be off maybe I'll patch you up," she muttered, not even sparing the head case a glance. Her steps moved her through the space easily, only two steps before she was in the living room, the other half of the space given to the kitchenette. A doorway in front of her opened up to a long hall, three bedrooms and two bathrooms at the end of it. To the left would be a doorway, latched, that she could only assume would lead to what had been food storage, or perhaps the mechanics of the bunker. Right now she didn't care. What she needed was the weapons cabinet, smirking when she found it.

That smirk died once she began to inspect the guns, finding issues with each and every one. With a huff of anger, Ghost tossed the last firearm into the cabinet and slammed the door shut. She stomped towards the kitchen, looking through the cabinets to find the bare minimum, another annoying issue. Then she tried the water, and unsurprisingly, it didn't work. "Jesus fuck!" she grunted, whirling to glare at the injured man she'd shot with her arrow. "You aren't even worth stealing from. Waste of my fucking time," she ground out, snatching the toy from her belt and throwing it at the other dismissively. "Take your fucking toy back."


reply to: @Spud

"Do you ever shut up?" Antonio questioned the bundle of squirming irritation in his arms. Hunter was a pain, but Antonio would admit to himself, on occasion, that he didn't mind the boy too much. It was mostly his strange obsession with getting into the older male's pants that the asian boy found odd. Seriously, who in the hell taught him this crap? He should be running around with the terribly few children in this camp, chasing bugs or climbing old busted tires, not attempting to scare a particular asian sentry and shout about how they should fornicate then and there. Seriously, there was something messed up in this over active kids mind to be saying such things. Then again, Hunter probably didn't understand the full ramifications of what he was saying...probably. At least Antonio thought that Hunter wasn't fully aware of what he was saying, er, well, more hoped that he didn't because just ew.

With a sigh the older boy set the young one down, dusting off his hands before sheathing them in his pockets. The sun was still as high as ever, lands empty as far as the eye could see. No lurkers had wandered over this way in the last few weeks, this meeting that he was called to the most action he'd gotten in nearly a month. The hope of a convoy raid, as hinted at by one attractive robot-armed female had stated, excited Antonio, and he was eager to find out the details, lay a plan and a form of attack. He loved raids, the excitement, the adrenaline. It was like a drug and he was very much addicted to it.

"Hunter, I'm not having this conversation with you. You're eight, go eat bugs or something like normal eight year olds," Antonio sighed, turning to head towards the meeting room. Of course his little 'shadow' followed right along behind him, voice a little too loud to be saying the things he was saying.

"Well I ain't no normal eight year old! I'm better! The best actually! That's why you should do me, right here, right now!" he huffed, stomping his foot in a childish fashion. He was a child after all, one that spoke of things no child should really know about until their teens. It still bothered the older one on how Hunter had even come to know anything about sex honestly.

"Hunter. Go. Home," the older grunted, steps pausing but he didn't turn. His words were hard, almost angry but did nothing to deter the young spirit behind him.

"Only if you come with me!" He stated, challenged really, with a pleased huff, small arms crossing over a small chest. Hunter was pleased with himself, his retorts and the outcome of having Antonio turn to face him to respond. He always liked Antonio's attention the best. Attention in general was pretty great, but this particular man's always left him more pleased than the other's. The naive mind didn't have a name for it, but of course it had to be love right? That was the only thing that made sense. When his father told him stories of his mother, he said that when she looked at him, nothing else in the world mattered, just her. Surely that's what he felt when Antonio looked at him, right? Right.

Little did he know that what he felt was not love, but admiration. He idolized this particular Greaser above all others, but he was too young, didn't understand, the difference between the two. Sadly, around here, no one really had the time to tell him the difference, or to correct his use of fowl language. When you spent every day protecting a compound from raids, lurkers, and had to scavenge for food and weapons, child rearing was a community effort, children not really getting to be children, at least not for long.

"No. I have a meeting," Antonio stated. He frowned when he saw those shoulders slump. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the feeling of his chest almost ache for the boy. What a pain. Somehow in all of his incessant irritation, Hunter had wormed his way into the sentry's heart, a place of a younger brother really, an annoying, inappropriate, hassle of a younger brother, but loveable nonetheless. Kneeling before the dejected boy, Antonio offered up a compromise. "Look, after my meeting, maybe i'll take you out for shooting practice?" he suggested.

Hunter instantly perked up, smile bright and wide on his dirtied face. Antonio snorted a laugh at the sudden change in demeanor but didn't question it. As long as he didn't look like someone just kicked his dog, Antonio didn't much care. His momentary peace was called to a halt with a grubby finger shoved in his face, Hunter's voice back to its obnoxious volume.

"It's a date! You better not be late!" he shouted, face stern as if he could really give directions to the older Greaser. Another roll of his eyes but there was no counter. The older ruffled dirty brown locks, much to Hunter's pleasure, as he stood, turning back towards his intended destination. "You're gonna fall for me one day!" Hunter's voice called out to him. Antonio chuckled softly, amused by the boys persistence. Someone should really tell him the difference between admiration and adoration, for Antonio's sake. That kid was gonna kill him one day.

With that little issue resolved, Antonio stepped into the 'meeting room', more of a closet with a salvaged, rickety table, barely working ceiling light, and makeshift chairs out of anything that was sturdy enough to hold a person's weight. His eyes fell on the girl from before, head nodding in greeting before he moved over to her and plopped down on the ground next to her. His arms slung over bent knees, head leaning back against the cracked cement of the wall behind them.

"So, what'cha think s'on the truck?" he wondered, eyes sliding over to the female next to him. Meetings were only really held to plan raids, or to guard from them if they caught wind of an attack. The latter was unlikely though, so it really only left one thing to be assumed, they were hitting up a convoy of supplies headed for the Safety Zone.
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