forum I am craving that sweet hero/villain goodness. (o/o)

Started October 17, 2020 by Deleted user

tune

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The villain won, in the end. Earth was theirs, and their nemesis, that supposed hero of earth, was in shackles, nothing more than a toy for them to use as they pleased. So why did they feel so empty?

So basically…. hero/villain shit. I’m just hungry for another RP and I am going to just… yeah. Whatever role you want is yours.

Rules:
This will contain dark themes like gore, suffering, depression, and NSFW. The latter will be taken to PMs, however.
No being overpowered or overly edgy.
Don’t be bigoted. Don’t be a dick.
General age range for this RP is like…. 20s-30s ish? I guess? Just to give you a clear idea.
Diversity is cool if you can be respectful.
Be literate! No one-liners!
Have fun!

Template will be posted when someone joins.

OwO

Yes.

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Orientation:
Appearance:
Personality:
EDIT: Powers:
Other:

Name: Sullivan (Sul) Cohen
Age: 23
Gender: Male h/h
Orientation: pan
Appearance: Probably one of those that, at first glance, would be considered “tall, dark, and handsome.” He’s got pitch black hair, short, and pushed up and out of his face, and the deepest of brown eyes, nearly black against the stark white. His skin is a lighter coffee color with pinkish undertones to make it warmer in just the slightest, and nearly spotless despite weird, undiagnosed pigmentations. They’re harmless, though, simply just places where “the ink ran out,” as his parents liked to say. His face is fuller and seemingly chiseled from his head, the slightest bit of scruff around the edges. He’s brawniest at his shoulders, having a broader chest and longer legs, while still looking nicely proportional. He stands at about 6’0”.
Personality: Maybe not as heroic as people find him. Sul is very strategic and tactical, his mind working in mysterious ways to accomplish a task. He sees people more as puzzles that can be solved, and he's a major perfectionist. He doesn’t really care about other people other than himself, but that’s bound to change. Sul is very sarcastic and often comes off as tired or moody. He doesn’t get flustered easily but he’s quick to anger, and will fight someone on any turn he disagrees with. His emotions are a wild roller coaster, and he’s quite impulsive. If he wants something, he’s bound to get it, one way or another.
Powers: He doesn’t have any, surprisingly. He simply uses that genius mind of his to get out of situations, and stop others from their illegal ordeals.
Other: He’s not one of those heroes working for the government. He works for himself, and his morals never align with those of the law.

Oh I forgot to add a section as to what their powers were, mind adding that in?

Name: Callum Darcy
Age: 25
Gender: Trans man, he/him
Orientation: Bisexual
Appearance: Callum has long brown hair, softer than cotton and silkier than the most luxurious fabrics. His eyes are a cold icy blue, and his skin is pale from spending too much time inside. His face is sharp and angular, and so is the rest of his figure. He typically wears suits pressed as sharp and crisp as broken glass, composed and assured as anything.
Personality: Despite all appearances, Callum never feels in control. He’s constantly trying to maintain a handle on the situation, and when things don’t go his way he freaks out. He’s quick to anger, cunning, and a control freak, a disastrous mix in any circumstance. He also desperately wants to be loved, but has no sense of boundaries or even basic consent, both making him unfit for any sort of relationship. He’s self destructive and self-hating to an extreme, and would burn the world to destroy any trace of weakness in himself.
Powers: Very, very powerful mind control, and an extremely powerful healing power that could possibly make him immortal.
Other: Idk.

Callum walked down the stairs, the florescent lights practically blinding him with their brightness as he walked into the elevator. His hideout was well protected and well staffed, but for now, that wasn’t what he cared about. All he cared about now was his newest toy.

He’d captured Earth’s supposed greatest protector, its hero. And now it was time to play, to have some fun with the sad pathetic man who had nearly foiled all of his plans.

He entered the elevator and pressed in a special code. The elevator took him far, far below the earth where his prison lay for those who would give him trouble. He walked past cells and cells of people rotting in cages, smiling to himself. This was perfect, everything according to his design. The cells got more advanced and more well-protected as he went on, for the more advanced and dangerous people they held until finally, he saw who he was looking for.

Or, well, saw on the monitor to his prison cell. The guards were watching it intently, the man shackled and straitjacketed and muzzled to keep from any possible escapes.

“Let me into his cell. It’s time for me to have some fun.” he smiled, and the guards allowed his down the long walkway to the man’s cell.

“Sullivan Cohen,” he said, “lovely to meet with you again.”

Usually stereotypical heroes would look at this in a more positive manner. They’d think this was all just another step to victory. Another hitch in a plan they had to get out of, and then win, saving the world. This was just another hurdle they had yet to jump over.

Sullivan was no stereotypical hero. And while he hadn’t completely lost hope, he was close. Callum had won and for the time being, he couldn’t wrap his brain around what to do next. It was a thought that scared him— scared him until he started shaking in that straitjacket and hearing the shackles jingle against the cold ground. Of course, that had only been once. Now, he was exhausted. Exhausted, nearly hopeless, and laying there in wait.

And then Callum was there, and that was a new sight. Sullivan had been alone in this one cell ever since he … lost. He had to say he hated it— even if it wasn’t Callum’s smug face grinning back at him. Frankly, he liked to think when he was alone. Any kind of company was unwelcome.
So he just flicked up his dark eyes, glaring toward the man who had just walked in. He couldn’t move whatsoever— couldn’t speak, either. The muzzle did its job well. So Sul simply stayed silent, watching Callum’s every move intently.

Callum pressed a button and entered yet another code, and entered the cell. “Sullivan. A lovely name, such a shame it’s been given to the completely wrong person.” he sighed dramatically. He unclipped the muzzle, tossing it on the ground next to him. It landed on the floor with a loud clattering sound Callum reveled in. He had power over this man, the power to help or hurt him in one blow.

“Speak, I’m sure you have questions.” he said coldly.

Sullivan didn’t even flinch. Not at the words, not at the sound of the muzzle, not at the way he could feel Callum watching him. Anticipating.
He didn’t want to give the other man the satisfaction of getting in his head. So he kept his eyes still locked on Callum, piercing, with every last tinge of anger he had. He usually didn’t let himself show emotions, but his eyes were now alive with that absolute livid fire.
“What makes you think that?” Sul muttered, voice extremely raspy and deep. It was the result of not talking for a few days.

“That’s a question right there, darling. So clearly, you have at least one. What makes me think that? Because I do, because I’m a very clever man who is very, very good at reading people.” he said, almost infantalizing the man with his words. And so what if he was? He had no respect for heroes, for people who claimed to be good, to work for the forces of light and justice.

“Alright,” he uttered, not letting Callum get any reaction out of him. “In that case, second question. What do you want from me?”
His voice grew steadier as he continued talking, losing that pervious shakiness it previously had. He took in a deep breath, feeling the straitjacket tighten around him as his chest rose and fell, the chains from the shackles bouncing lightly on the floor.
Although, these chains were looser now. He hadn’t eaten anything for a few days. Even if food was offered, he doubted he’d eat it. He didn’t want to indulge on something Callum offered him, and frankly, didn’t even want to be talking to him. Somehow, someway… anything he did seemed to play into Callum’s satisfaction.

“Darling, I want to take good care of you. But I also want my fun. Tell me, what do you need right now to keep you feeling happy and content? I won’t be letting you out of this cell any time soon, unless you happen to be very convincing, but I could get you some food or loosen those uncomfortable-looking shackles. What do you say?” he asked, tilting his head. His voice was steady and disinterested, and he looked like he could very well eat Sullivan up if he wanted to.

Sullivan internally sneered at the pet name, staying as still as he could. His eyes were the only thing about his body that moved, with the exception of his breathing. Not putting it lightly, he looked dangerous. There was something intimidating about a wild animal, but something even more intimidating about a caged one. And Sullivan was certainly caged.
“I’m perfectly content as I am, thank you,” he said, voice shockingly monotonous. Each word had a slight bite to it, like he sharpened them each individually with stone. “No adjustments necessary.”

“I know the guards haven’t bothered to feed you in days and they probably won’t do it now, so it’s either I feed you or we stick an IV up your arm and I doubt you’d like the latter. I’m no idiot, I know how terrified you felt here because I was inside your mind at the time, and I could feel your fear.” he explained, putting a hand on one him and letting his other fall limp at the wrist. He didn’t really care for this man’s wellbeing, other than how he could mess with his head. “And I know for a fact that as angry as you may be, you desperately want to be free and could do anything to get your precious freedom. So either grovel and beg or I’ll pull it out of you.”