i ain't got no type... rp memes are the only thing that i like

[anon_jigen]

i have a type: the meme

How to play:

• Post with your character.
• Describe their preferences for a romantic partner or just a person they wanna bang/smooch in a generalized way.
  
• This is shown to EVERYBODY.
  
• Reply to those comments indulging, teasing, mocking, being scandalized or so on.
  
• Or you can just go the lazy route, like certain songs.

 

Comments

[puppet_mistressofhell]

[Those novels are not realistic. Isolde tosses her hair careless.]

Hmph. You're the same any other man. You just think you're special because you control the dead. You're nothing.

[Anger her some more, and Isolde will pull out her own magical show.]

[necromanticised]

Ah, but the difference is I am special. The world itself trembles before me. I don't merely control the dead, like all those failures who crumbled in the face of their own demise, I have mastered death itself- an immortal, ceaseless eventuality. No one can deny me! Only delay my ascension to my rightful place as ruler of all!

[ This. Uh. Might actually be true. He just won't stop. ]

And why would you, just another lost soul, be any different!?

[puppet_mistressofhell]

[She merely looks down, closes her eyes and sighs... then there's the smell of sulfur in the air. The inhuman sounds of growling, barking, screaming... and the ground beginning to open up like burning hot maw with the myriad hands beginning to overflow and touch The Necromancer's feet.

Isolde's own face, that was once beauty is twisted into... something else, still remaining somewhat human some of her true features come out when she's angry. Her mouth is cut to an inhuman rictus grin, showing rows upon rows of teeth inside. Her demon eyes glow inhumanly.]

Simple. I can send you to the place where it doesn't matter if you're Lord Of The Dead, Mortal.

[necromanticised]

[ Iratus stares into the pit, his jaw slack. There are ways for him to be imprisoned despite his immortality. ]

I... [ He's suddenly quiet and without the bluster. Hands by his side, fingers trembling. ] I...

I never thought... [ His hands slowly rise, palms up. ] My life could be... anything but catastrophe!

[ His dropped jaw turns into a wide smile as his hands begin to burst with blue energy. ]

But suddenly I begin to see- [ The shocked tone has turned musical, his gravelly baritone surprisingly skilled at singing. ] A bit of good luck for me.

'Cause I've got a golden ticket!

[ You see, Iratus spends a great deal of time reaching through the veil and ripping souls from the afterlife. When the door is opened for him... he's going to help himself. Because yes, he's a tryhard, and a brute, and a dork, and selfish, and as subtle as a brick, but he's the greatest necromancer of all time and the angriest man to ever live. He'll take the brick every day of the week and he doesn't have enough room for fear with all the fury taking it up.

Souls start blasting out of the hole like a volcanic eruption, disregarding all those rules about deals or sinning or whatever clockwork schemes they've got going in Hell. Earth, the afterlife, space and time, he'll smash them all through the infinite power of fuck you that courses through his veins. If at first the brick does not succeed, your brick just wasn't big enough. ]

now I'm just thinking of Iratus up in a urn bitching and shaking as he talks

[puppet_mistressofhell]

YOU FOOL!

[It was meant to scare him off. (If Isolde really wanted him dead and out of her hair, she'd burned him to ash, place those ashes in an enchanted urn and have that urn dropped off in a bottomless pit someplace. There won't be any of this showboating shit he's so fond of.) She would complement his singing voice if it wasn't for the fact he's literally skimming off the top of Hell and taking it's souls for his own. Shit, shit, shit, shit...

Her relationship with downstairs isn't all that peaceful, so she quickly tries to close the portal before one of the Minor (or Satan forbid, Major) Lords of Hell start calling and shit gets really, really real. (And you know, Iratus takes more of Hell's property.)

Fuck this try-hard, and fuck his powers.]

I'm picturing him as the Navi character for an evil adventurer.

[necromanticised]

[ She has, at least, learnt a very important lesson about Iratus and fear (i.e. he has none and fuck you you for thinking he does, that's part of the lesson). He lets out a malevolent laugh easily as good as any you might hear in Hell at her frustration. ]

What's the matter, sweety? [ He swaps to one hand held up, siphoning out the screaming tornado of tortured souls into the palm. The other makes a rapid series of motions and a pair of unearthly large boney hands burst from the ground, lodging their fingers into the rift she opened. If they can't stop her closing it entirely, they sure can slow it down. ] Don't like seeing you're weak? Realising your silver tongue just makes you a hustler? While I, I am a conqueror! There's nothing you have I can't take!

[ He might be a necromancer first and foremost, but to get as good as he has at that you have to be a genius wizard in general. Any attempt to burn him to ash is going to be a battle either way. ]

Prostrate yourself before the Lord of the Dead, if you wish me to relinquish my grip upon your ill planned display.

[ He's such a bitch, ain't he? ]

[puppet_mistressofhell]

[It isn't the large bone hands that frustrated her so but it's this asshole gloating. She doesn't give a damn about appearing weak, she just wants to survive and be up top. And the longer this old, nasty, grey Necromancer bitch keeps taking souls, someone... or something else is gonna come out that portal in response and it won't be pretty.

She isn't going to prostrate herself to him though, fuck him.

Isolde is getting R E A L T I R E D of Iratus' mouth though. While one hand is focusing on closing the gap and fighting those bone hands, another makes a simple cutting motion. Soon, Iratus' might find that his mouth has fused together and can't move.]

You try and gloat to me through your mind, I'm blocking you.

[necromanticised]

[ He's too focused on his magic to resist hers, especially as he had been expecting, say. A fireball or something. As well as his plans as to how he's going to enslave whatever comes out of that hole, because he's not so stupid he can't see that coming. His mouth seals up and that's a good one- gloating is half the fun!

In a way, she's lucky she mentioned the gloating specifically. If she hadn't, his rage would have exploded and he'd quickly move on from 'pissing her off' to 'making an attempt to rip her apart to make furniture.' And the angrier he is, the stronger his powers become.

Instead, he's amused to know he's getting under her skin and instead casts a spell called Mocking Slap. It's actually pretty powerful when he uses it to harm his foes, especially of the target is on fire, but this one is watered down. Its destructive capacity is traded for rapid-fire repeat action.

And the spectral hand it summons up is, instead of the usual method of smacking a head off, going to slap Isolde's ass. 32 times for 1hp a hit. ]

[puppet_mistressofhell]

Finally some silence...

[Finally she doesn't have to hear that assholes self-important mocking voice while she fights with the skeleton hands and get this portal closed. If he tries to attack after this, she'll deal with it.

But something even fucking worse happens next, a spectral hand comes up behind her. Not to hit her or throw something, but to smack her on the ass... multiple times. This fucking shit thrice-damned Necromancer still thinks it's this is a joke.

No matter, she's just going to focus on getting this portal closed. She's dealt with worse things.]

[necromanticised]

[ Once the spell starts, he can just let it do its thing. It’s about one spank per second, but not exactly. Slight variations to make it impossible to get entirely used to it. Her big ‘ol butt is gonna be a pretty shade of red in half a minute.

His lips are stuck together, but they’re still smirking.

Iratus is almost at his mark anyway- he’s almost stolen ten thousand souls in the short time the abyss has been open, the whirlwind of wailing victims flowing so quickly. He only wants to get to that number because it’s cool to say. So he gives up on then skeletal hands and swings both hands up for one last push, the stream of tortured spirits doubling.

Ten thousand and one. Hah. He couldn’t look smugger even if he had a fully functioning mouth. ]

he's totally free to pester her in other threads tho. XD

[puppet_mistressofhell]

[The skin she has on right now isn't really blessed in terms of ass, or tits. It's a lithe model type. Legs that stretch out for eons, a gorgeous face, and all the grace to match. After what Iratus did, (is doing, right now smacking her ass until it's red and swollen to humiliate her) he'll never get to see the thicc glamours. (Honestly with the possibility of more trouble coming from downstairs for her because ten thousand and one souls are missing now. It's a small number for hell but it's still substantial enough for more of her Demonic brethren to come after her, so probably will never get to see her again. And if misfortune befalls her and she does see him again, it's on fucking sight, she doesn't give a fuck if he's Lord Of The Dead or not.)

This was truly a foolish idea, opening the portal to a Necromancer. But it could be worse... The ground finally returns unopened, her face returns back to its flawless humanoid shape. Despite the spectral hand smacking her ass like no tomorrow, there's visible relief on her face. No Demons or the creatures of Hell came out of there, Thank Lucifer.]