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Captain-Robosexual's avatar

Dedicated Gawker

[~ This is my RP thread ~]


I : Here, the Index.
II : Rules / Guidelines

Notice: My characters are the first ones mentioned.
1 : Dubious (Post-apocalyptic psychic x Survivor)
2 : Child-Like (Alien x Human)
3 : Playing Favorites [Craving] (Aristocrat x Servant)
4 : El Fibre (Escaped Assasin x Bounty Hunter)
5 : Fruit of knowledge (Mad Scientist x Unsuspecting Victim)
6 : Desert Flower (Bounty Hunter x Bounty)
7 : Clockwork [Unfinished]
8 : Milk and Honey [Craving]
9 : Broken [No Text]
10 : Solder
11 : Hallowed Ground [No Text]
12 : [Unnamed]
13 : Technicolor [Unfinished]
14 : Monster [Craving] (Girl-Turned-Monster x Monster Hunter)
15 : Library [Unfinished]
16 : Indestructible (Angel x Demon)
17 : In Loving Memory (Cyborg x Rebel)
18 : The Light Fantastic [Craving] (Human x Alien)
19 : Mirror, Mirror
20 : Porcelain [Craving] (Invincible Woman x Gang Boss)
21 : Liar (Fortune teller x Costumer)
22 : Game [Unfinished]
23 : Toxic [Unfinished] (Runaway x Drug Dealer)
24 : Fight
25 : Crows (Zombie Apocalypse)
26 : The Meek [Craving] (Murderer x Detective)
27 : Dead Man's Metaphor (Post-apocalyptic Robot)
28 : [Unnamed]
29 : Unity [Unfinished]
30 : Blood and Roses [Unfinished] (Hunger Games)
31 : Demure [No text]
32 : Brought to You By: [No Text]
33 : [Unnamed]
34 : Witch Hunt [Unfinished] (Monster Hunter x Monster)
35 : [Unnamed]
Captain-Robosexual's avatar

Dedicated Gawker

~ Rules and Guidelines ~

First, I would like to ask you to not post here.
If you find yourself overcome with need, though, I will allow it.

All right, let's get at this.
I should explain what I made this thread for, right?
Well, this thread was created to promote my starters, allow for me to remember them when I'm RPing, and so that people can see 'em.
My RolePlaying rules are kinda simple, and go as shown:

I will not play a character that is completely useless. No princesses in towers or pretty school-girls that need saving for me. I just can't do it...
I'm not a fan of furries. I'm just not.
My literacy level is dubious. Sometimes I can dish out pages upon pages of text, other times I'll give you a line. I'm unpredictable like that. In other words, if we're RPing for a while, and I've been giving you paragraphs, and suddenly you get a one-liner, it means that I've been having a bad day.
I only like school-based RP's that have to do with student x student plots. Anything else, unless I'm persuaded otherwise, is not something I'd be interested in.
I'll do loli, as long as it's not something to creepy, like father-daughter stuff. And I won't be a perfect good girl.
I prefer talking out RPs before actually doing them, and I tend to get all intimidated-like if someone just sends me a starter. You're welcome to do so, though. I'll end up asking questions anyway.
I like for there to be violence and dark themes in my RPs. I'm also a huge sci-fi junkie. Just sayin'.
Twilight sucks. No exceptions.
I'm happy to play as any gender, and with any gender. If you want Yuri - shoot, Yaoi, I'll try.
I like to be dominant, but I'm open minded.
I don't RP to only cyber. It actually kinda pisses me off when someone sends me a sickly starter obviously shoving the plot towards sex. I have yet to have a quality RP involving only sex. Gets boring after a while.
Some of my characters aren't human. You have a problem with that, feel free to contact management and submit a petition.
For some of my characters, I can change their gender without affecting the story line much, so if you're a girl that wants to RP with a male character, or are looking for Yaoi, and like one of my starters, just let me know, and I'll change the text accordingly.
Be original.
If you God-mod or puppeteer, I will come to your house and kick your a**. I'm cool like that.
Sometimes I use different languages in my starters. Most people don't care, but it bothers some, so if you need for me to translate, just let me know so you don't have to go searching on Google Translation.
Some of these rules are open for debate, and if given a good enough argurment, I might make exceptions.
If you like one of my unfinished concepts, let me know, and I will finish it for you.
I'll add more when I think of more.
Captain-Robosexual's avatar

Dedicated Gawker

1 : Dubious

User Image
The world is a box that's been welded shut. If I could leave it, I would, but my torch is just big enough to burn us all up.

I read a book, once. The pages were tattered, and the phrasing was illogical and out-dated, but I read it just the same. It was about a small boy from a strange planet that was very small, who came to earth in search of friends. In the boy's journey, he met many adults who did trivial and meaningless work. In these was a king that ruled over all things with an iron fist, but told them to do the things they would normally do without being ordered. He said to the boy when he asked for him to order the sun to rise that he would order it, "But only when it was time for the sun to do so."
The king in this story reminded me of the lord that owned me. He was stubborn in his power, demanded that all things followed his directions, but I knew he controlled only a small part of the world: his servants, and himself. The sun just happened to rise when he told it to, as he only ordered when the sun rose on it's own.
He did control me, though, and I controlled many things. I was alive in dreams. My lord pointed, and I destroyed; it was my duty. I won wars for him, killed thousands, looted and stole, then he grew old and died. I was unsure: I had no purpose.
The world fell into chaos, and I watched form my pedestal as it crumbled. We were lonely wanderers in the desolation of a memory, the greatness of buildings toppled and submerged in water, the fading consciousness of the people's world drowning in their mistakes. It was rather ironic, how they strove towards God, grasping and kicking at the place that supported them only to knock it down.
War had destroyed them. In the time of my master, wars were fought with people and small weapons, then they became more dangerous. They were afraid of each other, dreading their own demise, and they let their bombs ravage Mother Earth. The sky was black, the plants choked in toxic smog, and I was left alone in a shattered reality. I slept for years, waiting with unyielding patience until people slowly left their underground sanctuaries, and I twisted their minds because I was made to do just that.
In their dreams, I fluttered like an angel between REM and nREM, keeping some from sleeping restfully at all while giving others a dreadful need to starve to death, wanting nothing but the world I had created for them. I gave them horrors and pleasantries before they began to go mad, waking up and slaughtering the ones closest to them. I wrote it off as an experiment.
Of course, there became a dreadful drear after that; nothing could entertain me in the form I had taken. People were all the same on the inside, synopsis and tasteless little nuances. How they thought they could ever be original, I never understood. After a long while of picking at their connections, I reverted back into my human form and walked the battered world among them. They wondered how I never starved, how I never slept, how I wandered for as long as I did, looking for anybody with power enough to win me. I met up with a group of survivors, and they asked me in kind ways to help them. Wise little humans.

There was an irradiated shopping mall, and I slipped into the expanse of inaccessible resources, unaffected by the crackle of the Geiger meter. There was so much food, most of it useless because of the radiation, and I took a chopping cart, grabbing medical supplies and cans, bottles of sealed water and clothing that would fit my allies. There was a smile on my face that I didn't mean, and as I wandered in and out of stores, I hummed a tune that was familiar to the old world. It was time to move on, so I left, shaking off the chemical danger and glancing at the humans I served, who grinned at me with childish glee.
"Thanks so much, Kendra!" One of the people chimed, and I bowed low out of habit.
We walked for a long time, past rubble and stores we didn't need to raid. We stopped at settlements and bartered with merchants who passed us by. There was such a lonely feeling spreading through the group. There were street signs, now barely readable, that told of places they had visited in the world before. There were houses that they visited, now toppled by the bombs; parks they had played in, now covered in mines. There was so much grey.
We stopped at a large settlement built from the remains of a suburb, the circular pattern easy to protect; one entrance, one place to keep watch over. They let us in because we had so few weapons.
We sat at a large table in the middle of the culdesac, my allies just happy to have food, but I eyes it with disgust. I didn't need food, so I passed it to someone who took it without question: there is no such thing as compassion among the starving. I retired to the tent we had been offered and laid on my back , tapping my foot on the tent with rhythm. There was a sharp sound, then a series of bangs, and I slipped back into the dying world. The sun was at the horizon, and I saw the long shadows of murder. It was a raiding party; people who attacked other people for gain, and they slaughtered the humans who were so hospitable to me. My allies all had glossy eyes, their limbs twisted from struggle, and red fluid spread from their mangled bodies. I was responsible for their survival, so I sighed unhappily at my failure.
My hands lifted from my sides, and one of the raiders was dragged into the air, screaming with horror. His chest collapsed with the movement of my thumb, and he gurgled out blood, crimson dripping from his mouth, panic in his eyes. He looked at me, and the sound of murder stopped suddenly. His arms were tuned in, the bones snapping and breaking out of his flesh before I finally allowed him death, crushing his skull with a pinch. The raiders and settlers both fled from me and I stared down at one of my dead companions, tears in my eyes.
"I need new allies, now." I muttered, hovering far enough to scale the walls that protected the settlement from evil, landing and walking in a direction I had never been in.

A hospital, unscathed and intact, caught my attention after days of wandering. I approached and bullets kicked up dirt at my feet. My hands rose to the sides of my head to show that I was unarmed, and when I approached again, there was no warning gunfire. I walked steadily towards the door, about five meters away, hoping to find intelligent humans to serve. There was promise in this beacon of civilization.
When I reached the front gate, an intercom hissed and a voice chimed in.
"Who are you?" A man on the other side asked, and I lowered my hands.
"I am Kendra. I'm looking for shelter. I come with equipment to trade for food." My lie was spoken with unflinching resolve.
Captain-Robosexual's avatar

Dedicated Gawker

User Image2 : Child-like

Big brother is watching.

My alarm went off, and I woke from my rest, analyzing the multiple dials and numbers that told me of my status. I was almost at my destination, and was approaching planet 23343's atmosphere more rapidly than was first calculated. In my sleep, after I looked over the record of my travels, I had been shot off of this solar system's gas giant, and was rocketing towards my destination at a dangerous rate. I was glad I wasn't headed towards a larger planet.
An alarm went off to my right, and I opened the emergency slowing wings. It was to no avail, as they snapped off painfully. I had lost one-sixteenth of my weight.

I remembered falling to alien planets in simulation, but there was never any danger, and falling from the sky on Nenoas was routine and I had been accustomed to being able to land in the sea of metal, knowing that I would harm no living thing, but me sensors were firing wildly. A number of organics had crowded, watching me as I fell, perhaps expecting for me to simply burn out, as they knew not of what I was made out of. I tried to stretch myself out as wide as I could; tried to distribute my weight and catch air, but I was unsuccessful, as my safety system would not allow for me to lose any more of my weight, so instead, I made myself into an arrow-point, hoping that I would miss most of the organics.
Organics were important for my race's survival.
In a second, I was on the ground in a skidding crater no bigger than myself, stretched out and doubled over. I had balled up, and curled myself into a glob of liquid mercury, wiggling and flailing with animalistic simplicity.
I heard the chatter of organics as they peeled their way in waves of flesh towards my charred and damaged self, and they peered over the edge of the crater. One organic, a small, brave one, hopped from the land above, and stepped lightly in my direction. I willed my body to still into a wide, crimson puddle.
The organic's footsteps echoed off of me in little ripples, as though its weight was much greater than what it really was, and then it was close enough for me to analyze it completely. My offensive systems kicked in without my knowledge, and I was thrown foreword at the organic, a loud scream being dampened into a desperate gurgle of blood and me in liquid form. I encased the organic in a large sphere, and hardened immediately.
She died in my clutches, unable to stand being drowned in metal, and in the process, I learned everything she knew about her race; the human race. My body morphed around hers, and I took her form, only without her color.
She had been wearing unattractive clothing; government issued overalls, and so I changed into an image that she had from her early childhood. I was her, only child-like and covered by silk robes, with hair that trailed off of my shoulders in onyx strands rather than the ratted black mass that it once was. I smiled, the smile forcing the crimson color from my figure in watery ripples. The smile felt strange on what I now had; a face, and I reached up with my hands wrapped in ever-changing colored silk to feel lips and eyelids and the curves of my cheekbones. The body of my vessle was not unpleasant, only strange.
The corpse was bothering me, and through my new eyes, closed so I couly feel their shape, I saw my computers telling me that it was dangerous to keep a dead organic in my system, and so I let her go, through my entire front, my body opening up like a hatch and dropping the human, twisted and distorted, onto the rubble-covered ground.

"I come in search of knowledge."
Captain-Robosexual's avatar

Dedicated Gawker

3 : Playing Favorites

User Image"Princess? You called for me."
"My location does not please me. Fix this."
Sharp eyes and an apathetic grimace.
"Would you like to leave? Go somewhere else? If so, where would you like to go?"
A man in a clean and unwrinkled suit smiled lightly.
"I wan to leave this planet and go somewhere, like the little boy in my book did."
Saddened eyes staring into nothing.
"Stories are not good for the mind of our future leader. Please, princess, tell me what you really want; something that is possible for me to do."
A butler with a frown of razors.
"I want nothing else."

Saisho was the first daughter of a great general, and her mother died during childbirth, so she had no other siblings. It was only natural that she would become the leader of her father's vast army, but it wasn't what she wanted. Her head was stuck in the clouds as a child, and she was unable to reach her full potential. This angered her already stern and strict father, so she was sent away from her home to a girl's school in France. Here, she grew to become an exceptional strategist, a mathematical genius with fantastical skill, and one of the few literate non-royal girls in her country. She kept her passion for books in her adulthood, but left behind, as most adults do, her childish attitude and ability to believe any story.
Her father hated her. He not only blamed her for the fact that she was clumsy and absent-minded, but because she was a woman. He blamed her for killing his wife and making it impossible for him to have a son to carry on his legacy. He was a sour man with angry eyes and a hand that seemed to always be raised. She would escape into books, and walked through the grounds, tending to a small corner that she grew anemone in with a dreamy look of joy. She could recite anything she ever read, and she impressed guests at parties by standing on an elevated step and telling stories of French revolutionaries or stating Confucius's teachings word-for-word. This made everybody applaud but her father, who only looked on with scorn.
As the years passed by, her air of joy was replaced with a quiet wisdom and resolve. She still enjoyed reading, and spent all of her free time in her personal library with her butler always standing at the ready. When she felt particularly unhappy, she had him turn the pages, and he never questioned her will, standing over her in absolute silence.
Her father saw that she had taken a liking to the Mandarin servant, and had him banished from the grounds in an attempt to hurt her, but for the next week she was unseen, an embarrassment to the man who was unable to plan a successful party. Their usual Sunday guests wrote confused letters asking why they were not invited to the merriment Saisho always led. When he banged on her door and made empty threats of punishment, she turned from the rumbling wood and ignored him with a roughly translated Japanese version of Treasure Island. He went away and ordered one of the cooks to put in an add for a new personal servant for his daughter.
For the next few weeks, Saisho didn't even garden. She sat at her window, watching various servants working with tools on the sustenance crops or the clouds lazily float across the sky. She struggled to change herself, always used to standing stiff and letting her handmaidens pull her robe over he delicate frame, but now she had nobody. her father seemed to have forgotten her, and the only human contact she ever had was from the maid who brought food to her room three times a day. At first, the European-faced girl would stay and try to make conversation, but she always left sullen and quiet, the sharp glares Saisho's black eyes enough to slice through any comfort. The occurrence of these one-sided conversations lessened until the maid only left the food on a table near the door, knocked, and scurried away into the lower levels of their mansion.
Saisho fell deeper into books. Her personal library, connected to her bedroom by a narrow hallway filled with pictures of important Japanese historical figures, was where she spent most of her time. There were books taken from the library in France, others classical literature form every other parts of the world, and she read many of them over and over.
Her favorites were Shakespeare, the way he used new words and imagery to design a setting. Her dream was to see one of those books performed as a play like the Europeans always bragged about. She imagined - sometimes - that she was dressed and painted like one of those performers, playing Juliet and falling in love before taking her life out of that dreadful emotion.
She was mulling over the paragraph of a book she had just read, gazing longingly out of her window at the rain-drenched ground when a knock shattered her concentration. She stood tentatively, stepping lightly on the wooden floors with her bare feet. When she was at the door, she put her ear to it and waited for a moment, sure it was her father, but his heavy breath wasn't there, so she opened it and stood before the stranger, face blank.
Captain-Robosexual's avatar

Dedicated Gawker

User Image4 : El Fibre.

"You're early." Said the man in the expensive-looking suit. The noise drowned out the obvious tension, and Elena was able to supress her rage.
"Early is relative." Replied the woman, and a sarcastic smirk pursed her lips.
"Suppose you've got a gun, and that you mean to kill me." He tried, hands raising timidly, a show of surrender that Elena was very much used to.
"I'll never admit to anything." Elena hissed, and her gun fired. The bar she was in shook like San Fransisco, and women screamed and people who knew what to do when these things happened ducked under tables and chairs. There was a flailing of limbs, and entire community rushing out of the door, the palace-like structure draining it's people like cockroaches scattered at dawn. Elena was taken by the crowd, and it didn't bother her much; that was what she had planned on in the first place. She never saw her target's face, and this didn't bother her either. She had the money to flee now, and she planned on doing just that.

"We're very impressed by your preformance, Helen."
"Elena." She corrected, and the person on the other side of the phone scoffed and apoligized emptily.
"When do I get paid?" Ordered the redhead.
"As soon as possible. In fact, if you need it that soon, I can send one of my men to deliver the cash at the docks tonight." The client's voice was synthesized and hidden behind a mechanical mask. Elena didn't even know if it was a female or a male.
"Give me a time and a place, and I'll be there." And then the phone was hung up.

"Here you are, miss; 1.5 million dollars, unmarked." Said the short teenager that had been sent to give Elena the money. He was timid and small and obviously nervous.
"Open it." She said, and he obeyed without question, clicking the latches and raising the top.
It was true. No ink, no bombs, nothing of that sort, and so she yanked the money away from the boy, pulling out a bundle of hundreds and tossing it to the male absentmindedly over her shoulder as she left. She heard him struggling to catch it, obviously not expecting the tip.

"I'm leaving." Stone never replied, but she spoke to it anyways.
"I'm surprised the feds haven't cought me yet. I was actually kind of hoping that they would send for me. Guess not, though..." Her smile rose and fell as she spoke to the tombstone before her. She was unnacostomed to talking to inanimate objects, so it was ackward. She paused and resumed often, subconciously waiting for a response.
"Mexico. I can't tell you exactly where in Mexico I'll be going, seeing as I have a feeling I'm being watched today. I just hope that I can have a nice bit of Taquila before I'm executed." She paused, the lack of laughter filling her with sorrow.
"Goodbye, Aaron. Have fun being eaten by worms." Elena left, then; left for another country.

Elena once worked for the military. She was on a team that was never given a name, a team that never had to log anything, and was sent into countries without any contact with the outside world. This fit with her well; she adapted to the forests of Vietman too well, managed to blend in North Korea wonderfully, and when she finally got home, her skills never left her.
She had information that the government didn't want her having, skills that gave her an edge in the underground, but she was unable to function properly in American society.
Thus, she became a murderer. She needed a reason, and so she killed for money, but the government, who had been searching for her for a very long time, cought her scent.
She needed to leave, and fast. Mexico, where there wasn't any documentation, where nobody cared if you were good, bad, uglyor otherwise. It filled her with hope to know that she had a place to go, even if it was very far away.

The beach was cool, the margaritas pleantiful, and everybody was nice to the young lady in the bikini that just happened to be rich. she enjoyed the comfort, but knew that it would be interuppted all-to-soon. She did, after all, have an entire country looking for her.

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