The image was grainy, like it was taken from an old-school flip phone's camera. The main focus was a tall, well-built man with vibrant indigo hair. He was dressed to the nines in a baby blue tuxedo and matching pants, topped off with a pair of dirty sneakers. His hand was pointed out at arms length, his finger pointing to something off camera with obvious glee. All of the fingers on that hand were painted a dark purple. The same she had put on her friend Winston not even 4 hours ago.
Hello, everyone! If the hook was too confusing, let me explain. The basis of the RP is that a friend of a super villain (which would be your character) finds out his alter ego after seeing a picture online. Romance brews as she tries to steer him on the path of good. This will be a MxF, with me being the male. andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s Rules apply, but cussing, gore, and mature topics other than smut is allowed!
(bonjoouur are we doing templates?)
Name:
Age(21-25):
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Usual Outfit:
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Powers (if applicable):
Fears:
Other:
Name: Winston Locke
Age (21-25): 23 years old
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Appearance: He has medium length light brown hair that he slicks back every morning with gel, but it will often begin to come undone by the end of the day and falls over his face (He wears a wig for his costume). His skin is naturally tan, even during the winter. His jawline is almost always dusted with a thin covering of hair, despite the fact he shaves every morning. He is around 6'0", but most likely on the shorter side
Usual Outfit: He typically wears a white tank top under an aviator jacket, with a pair of frayed and faded jeans and simple sneakers. (Imagine the typical 60's bad boy look)
Personality: Lazy by nature, he's a laid back but pessimistic guy who always sees the glass half empty instead of half full. He has a bit of a potty mouth, but knows when to install the filter when the situation requires it.
Likes: He enjoys a variety of musical genres and plays his own guitar in his spare time
Dislikes: Large grouping of peoples and country music
Powers (if applicable): A watered-down Superman without the laser eyes
Fears: Fear of heights
Other: His weakness is any type of silver metal
(if you wish. Just makes sure they're not, like, crazy or anything)
Name: Marzia Créscente
Age(21-25): 23
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Straight
Appearance: Silken hair the colour of coffee reaching just below her waist, that falls in thick waves, like the ocean. Warm, caramel coloured skin with rosy undertones, and a sprinkle of freckles. She has a tattoo of a wishbone on her inner left arm.
Usual Outfit: Usually wearing something you'd imagine a poet in Paris to wear; very chic ensembles with a beret or gold jewellery.
Personality: Very warm and loving, to everyone she meets, always wanting them to feel comfortable and welcome. She always checks up on her friends, and doesn't mind going the extra mile to make them feel appreciated. Extroverted, spontaneous, yet enjoys quiet time by herself or one-on-one. She mirrors the energy in the room and loves to go out dancing. Marzia is a free spirit, just wanting to live life to the fullest with love, art, beauty, and romance.
Likes: Travelling, European culture, cities, parties, expensive food (but also enjoys cheap/ fast food), fancy clothes and jewellery, smoking, warm drinks.
Dislikes: people vaping, the news, mushrooms.
Powers (if applicable): The ability to paint, draw, sculpt, or write whatever she thinks of, sees, or is feeling, perfectly.
Fears: Extreme solitude, or another war/extreme violence
Other: she's a smoker. Marzia works as a freelance artist/writer
(She's great! I'll get a starter up)
Winston was slouched on his couch, his hands folded over his phone on his lap as he watched the news. His hair, as usual, was slicked back into place perfectly, seeing that it was early in the morning still. On the TV, a man began speaking of Indigo, a formidable new super-villain that has been on a hot streak through the city of Charleston. Over $500,000 dollars worth of collateral damage and 3 superheros sent to the hospital with serious but non-life-threatening injuries. A small smile played across his lips as he listened, remembering the rush of adrenaline he'd get whenever he put on that wig. He knew he'd been busy, but seeing the amount of attention he had gained was….exhilarating.
His phone buzzed against his stomach, pulling him out of his daydream. A quick tap to the power button showed that Marzia had texted him.
Can I come over? the message read.
Sure he responded, then set the phone back where it had rested previously.
Marzia's heels clacked against the busy sidewalk, a rhythmic tapping that brought confidence and satisfaction to her face. She'd bought the shiny red bottom heels as a treat to herself after selling a large abstract painting in a local auction house. The streets were lively as she made her way to Winston's place, and she was admiring her home city as she always did. A digital billboard with a news report caught her eye. "..$500,000 worth of collateral damage and 3 superheroes sent to the hospital.." Marzia scoffed, it seemed every day there was a new catastrophe for people to weep about. She reached Winston's place and knocked rhythmically on the door.
"Door's open!" he shouted, reaching for the remote to turn the TV off.
His apartment was the only one in the entire complex that had two rooms, something that Winston took great pride in. When you first walk in, you are greeted by a small make-shift kitchen set up on a couple of old bed-side tables Winston had gotten at a yard sale. On one rested a small portable grill that he had bought from Wal-Mart for twenty dollars, and the other a microwave that looked straight out of the 60's. A stack of paper plates and a box of plastic silverware rested on the ground beneath one table and the other house a mini-fridge. A few feet past his "kitchen" was his living "room." It consisted of two things: a worn, lime green fold-out couch and a flat-screen TV that was wall-mounted. To the right side of the TV was his bedroom, which was always covered with dirty clothes. His sheets were a simple white and he had a single black comforter. He never needed anything more.
(?what?)
Marzia let herself in, hanging up her trench coat on a coathanger. "Morning," She greeted,
"Or…afternoon? I can't be bothered these days." Marzia chuckled, new heels clacking towards Winston.
(also,,im gonna be on and off today, hope thats okay :)
(Yeah, that's fine)
Winston smiled slightly in agreement. He wore a white tank top with a red stain near his side and a pair of ripped black jeans, his usual attire for just lounging in his apartment. Instead of turning off the TV, he simply turned the volume down and set the remote on the arm rest.
"I feel that on many different levels," he agreed, scooting over to give her space on the couch. He gestured to the TV with his right hand, where it shows a picture of Indigo. "Why do you think he's doin' this shit?"
Marzia sighed deeply, flopping onto the green couch, lazily resting her head on Winston's shoulder.
"I don't know," She shrugged, "Why does anyone do anything? I guess it's just for attention." Marzia shook her head, gesturing to the TV, "And why do you watch this shit? It's so overrated and just…bad." They could have been speaking about hundreds of more important things; like China's Muslim concentration camps, or the fact that the Salvation Army refused to take in a homeless woman because she was trans, or literally anything else that would actually spark change. "All they're doing is giving him attention, he's in the spotlight; getting what he wants, and no one can do anything."
Winston shrugged the shoulder that her head wasn't on, pulling out his phone and pressing his thumb against the fingerprint scanner. It unlocked with a small chink! and he pressed on the ESPN app symbol.
"I just watch it for entertainment, really," he said, tapping the basketball icon and scrolling through the varius highlights. "Besides, what else is on at 4:08 on a Thursday?"
"ER." She laughed, "From like the '90s, with George Clooney. Can't believe people still watch it." Marzia turned to face Winston's phone, "Ooh, did the Giants win?"
"That's football, Mars," he said, using her nickname as he rolled his eyes. "The New York Giants is in the NFL. It's the New York Knicks that won last night."
"Hmm, I know." She smiled, "Manning's gonna be their quarterback for Monday. Engram busted his foot." Marzia sighed, "But the Knicks won? Yes." She whispered, sarcastically pumping her fist. She didn't care for basketball, but she'd played a bit of rugby in high school, and her older brother had gotten into college on a football scholarship.
"Do anything interesting recently?" Marzia casually asked. Things were all over the place in the city.
"I work at a warehouse for minimum wage," he groaned, setting his phone on the armrest as well. "I work so much overtime that I don't really have any free time. The little amount I do have, I sleep. Which was a lie. His free time consisted of Indigo's shenanigans.
Marzia sighed, feeling a little guilty about her new heels. "You'll find something better, I know you will." She said, fiddling with her sleeve, picking at the dyed wool. "But if you could do anything– anything, what would you want to do?" Marzia asked, gesturing wildly for emphasis. "Like…any job."
"I don't fuckin'…." he mumbled, thinking hard for a few moments. A sports star would be pretty cool, but he took himself out of sports when he realized his powers, so that was never obtainable. "A….a superhero, I guess. Jus' go around, kicking the shit out of people an' get praised for it."
Marzia laughed, throwing her head back, pressing into the couch cushion, "That sounds about right, yeah." She nodded, "I don't they deserve to call themselves 'superheroes.' There were already people fighting for change before them, and people think that just because they wear a costume and can do a few party tricks, they should be admired." Marzia scoffed, "But that's just my opinion."