forum there’s just one thing that I want, your blood all over me (o/o, very fucked up mad scientist romance)

Started Apr 26 by Deleted user

tune

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Ok, so basically: your character is a surgeon working to save lives, mine a mad reanimator whose medical license will never be the same after being revoked because yknow, mad science. Your character is working in the hospital one night in the ER, trying to get out before their shift ends. My character comes in bloody and disoriented, with a massive stab wound and a bad attitude and who is overall a headache to deal with. However, the two then can’t stop running into each other after this incident. From coffee shops to seeing each other at the cemetery (your character is visiting dead family, mine is… definitely not visiting loved ones) they can’t stop meeting. So they eventually talk to each other, and find out they have a lot more in common than you’d ever expect…

Anyways, this RP will contain lots of gore, horror, violence, and probably some gay stuff too knowing me. Steer clear if any of that bothers you. This is going to be a bit cheesy-slasher-film-y so be warned that I am armed with a ton of stupid gay horror films and bad ideas and I’m not afraid to use them. Though it won’t be the focus of the RP, smut might happen and if/when it does we go to DMs.

Have fun! Templates to be posted if desired but are optional.

Name:
Age:
Gender Identity AND Pronouns:
Orientation:
Appearance:
Wardrobe:
Personality:
Quirks/Habits:
Fears:
Theme Song(s)?:
Backstory:
Other:

Name: Vincent Balcom-Davis
Age: 42 (old ass bish-)
Gender Identity AND Pronouns: Trans man, he/him
Orientation: Gayyyyyyy oh lawdy is this lad into dudes. Very closeted about that tho.
Appearance: Vincent is, suffice it to say, very gothic. From his dark curls to ashy umber complexion, to his eerily light brown eyes and his serene yet dark expressions, Vincent is a deranged mad scientist mess. He’s too thin to be even remotely healthy, with dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights and little rest or time off from his work in his days. He’s taller than you’d expect though, standing at about 5’10”. Vincent always looks like he doesn’t take care of himself, perhaps a little deliberately as the less approachable you look, the less people question your crazy choices.
Wardrobe: Vincent wears mainly earthy and solid colored turtlenecks and dark pants, with a blazer and an oversized scarf if he’s feeling chilly. He looks a bit mysterious, moreso though he’s just lonely for someone who will share in his work.
Personality: Plagued by guilt over the accident that claimed his twin sister’s life, Vincent is always looking for an excuse to escape reality. When he gets extremely depressed he drinks, when he is less depressed he smokes, weed or nicotine based it doesn’t matter. He is surrounded by death and has made that a personality trait.
Quirks/Habits: Paces, wrings hands when nervous or anxious. Chews on his hair and skin picks when upset or angry. Does the ‘tism style flappy hands and dino arms when excited about something.
Fears: Losing people, so he copes by driving everyone out of his life.
Theme Song(s)?: Girl Anachronism by Dresden Dolls; Brutus by Buttress; I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski
Backstory: Vincent was raised in a very conservative family, and didn’t even know he was trans until after receiving his degree. Upon discovering his identity he cut off everyone who disowned him, the only person who ended up staying by his side was his twin sister Violet. He began experimenting with life and death shortly after discovering his ability to predict when others would die, it isn’t even magic (which yes, does exist… kinda) it’s just like. Very loosely educated guess. An accident in his laboratory killed his sister, causing him to go to any length he could to bring her back. Which leads us to the night out characters meet.
Other: This man is The Definition of the ‘tism. Omg he’s so silly and goofy in a very me-style way.

Name: Kaymor Florence
Age: 29 (BaScAlLy 30 ;-;)
Gender Identity AND Pronouns: Cis-Male He/Him
Orientation: Homosexual
Appearance: Kaymor has dusty blonde wavy hair that falls just past his shoulders. His dark brown eyes have a haunting intensity to them, as though he's seen things beyond what mortal beings are meant to see. He's about 5'5" tall and his lightly tanned skin has hints of golden undertones. His frame is broad and muscular, but not overly so. Although he carries himself with an air of confidence, there's something about him that feels a bit fragile.
Wardrobe: Kaymor's wardrobe is bright, consisting of bright colors and patterns like white, yellow, and light blue. He tends to wear looser-fitting clothes in light materials like cotton or linen. He favors Converse in lighter colors. And for accessories, he has brightly colored beads, bracelets, and earrings on top of his rings. And the main piece of his wardrobe is a lightweight hoodie in a light, soft pink that he loves to wear out.
Personality: Kaymor is a vivacious and outgoing individual who takes pleasure in meeting new people and making connections. He is an upbeat and radiant person who embraces positivity and radiates optimism. When it comes to his role as a surgeon, Kaymor is dedicated, determined, and hardworking. He is selfless, compassionate, and gentle, with a soft touch that reassures and comforts his patients. Kaymor thrives on helping others and takes pride in his ability to make a difference in people's lives.
Quirks/Habits: Clicking Pens; He loves the sound and does it all the time, especially when feeling strong emotions. Braiding His Hair; Like, jus pulling a small strand in front of his face and braids it when over/understimulated or bored. Playing With His Work ID; It's one of those that you clip onto your shirt and it stretches, who doesn't love playing with those?
Fears: Loosing His Patient; People are relying on him to keep the person alive, and he hates the look of grief that happens when a patient dies before, after or during a procedure. Not Finding Love; Kaymor has always been told and beloved in true love. He wishes for the day he finds his own, and fears not finding it. This thinking has left him not feeling quite while all the time, and wishes for his 'second half'
Theme Song(s)?: Idk ;-;
Backstory: Kaymor was three when he was adopted by his dads. He grew up as a single child and always wanting to save lives.
He was a well behaved child, and when he started school, signs of being dedicated and a hard worker surfaced. Through his schooling, he made the best grades and graduated top of his class. He got a scholarship to medical school for the first four years.
He spent right total years in collage getting his medical license and learning to be a surgeon. After graduating, he started work in a small town hospital, and quickly worked his way up the ranks, becoming one of the most well known surgeons.
Other: Maybe a lil ADHD in him?

Aww, I love Kaymor!! He sounds like a perfect opposites-attract match to Vincent and his edgy gothy bullshit. Should we start?

Vincent stumbled into the Emergency Department of the local hospital bloodied, bruised, and broken. He had a massive hole in his side that had likely struck some important organs, and many bruises across his face and body. He limped into the arms of a nurse, who kept him from faceplanting into the floor but didn’t keep him from passing out. When he woke up, he was in surgery. But with the anesthetic and the numbing that had taken hold of him through buckets of medication being pumped through his system, nobody noticed his eyes were open and flitting around the room until he actually spoke up.

“Your technique could use some help.” he said woozily to the surgeon, who was still stitching up his wound. The surgeon was a handsome man from what Vincent could see through the mask and bright lights, shorter than Vincent but no less impressive with his presence. A nurse jumped, slightly, and Vincent smiled a little eerily at her, although maybe it was just the medication making his face flop sideways with dizziness.

He felt himself go under again, and unfortunately Vincent couldn’t at all place where he was next until about an hour of demanding to the nurses that he needed to know who had been ‘rummaging around in his intestines’. When sanity took him back again, he found that he was in a bleak and blank hospital room with the surgeon that had been operating on him standing over him, examining something about his face or at least near it. “Hello, you.” he said to the surgeon, whose face he could now see fully in the stale light of the hospital room. A blonde, slightly tanned, and looking very young for a man whose responsibility it was to save lives.

Kaymor had been just about to clock out when a nurse ran into his office, informing him about some man who had stumbled in looking like he'd been in a fight. Kaymor had groaned inwardly, wanting to just go home and pass out in bed, but duty called. So he'd gotten up from his desk and washed his hands before grabbing fresh gloves, a mask and his cap.

He'd been in the middle of making the last few stitches when the man had woken up. Behind his mask, his face twisted into a wry grin. He stayed focused on what he was doing, and he wasn't too concerned that the man was awake. Kaymor was already basically done, so he didn't say a word. Though he supposed that the drugs still in the man's system pulled him under again, because when he tied off the stitches and glanced at the male's face, his eyes had been closed again.

An hour or so later, after Kaymor had changed his coat and washed up, he was checking the male's vitals and making sure he wasn't dead. He was just starting to lean back when he heard the man speak.

He straightens and smiles warmly, eyes crinkling slightly at the outer corners. "Hello to you too." He steps away, picking up a clipboard and looking down at the paper on it. He writes a few things onto the sheets. He sits down on a stool, blue gaze flicking back to the man.

"I have just a few questions for you if you don't mind?"

Vincent looked at the surgeon, mouth feeling a little dry. “I think you see me as I am, so I would be amenable to that.” what Vincent meant by this is that despite having had no surgeries, no hormonal treatments, not even cut his hair for months, and despite inner reality looking very feminine, he saw that the surgeon looked at and respected him as a man.

“Either way, you’ve fiddled around with my insides enough to deserve some information. What do you need?” he asked, voice strangely calm and collected considering he’d almost died by stab wound from… something he couldn’t quite feel comfortable talking about yet.

Poor Vi, newly made body rotting on that slab in his makeshift laboratory. Or maybe, whatever she was now had escaped her fate, found a way to run off. At least she’d been breathing, if only for a few moments.

Vincent sighed. Memories of the night before swarmed him, made his mind cloudy. What a strange evening it had been.

Kaymor tilted his head slightly, "See you. . . As you are. . ?" After a long moment, he blinked, Oh, yes. . . We found your keys, but no identification. I saw the trans flag on it and made the assumption– Anyways, sorry. . ." He rubs the back of his neck, blowing out a long, tired sigh.

In reality, all he wanted to do was sleep. Well past one in the morning, Kaymor was ready to pass out, though he was used to late nights. He always saw a task through, and hated passing it on to others.

He glanced at the paper again, "Anyways, we need a name, unless you want to go by John Doe. . ." He shrugs slightly, fidgeting with a pen and clicking it repeatedly.

He looked the man over, he'd looked like he'd been in a fight, and would say he needed to stay in hospice for a few days at least, though Kaymor would prefer two weeks. But he knew that some people, especially those who carried no identification, would probably proceed with self checkout as soon as possible.

“You assumed correctly. You can call me Vin, I’m afraid that’s all I can share to you without risking my life here.” he said. Memories of the night came flooding back, and Vincent winced at them, face scrunching up in discomfort before relaxing into the same placid… whatever, that he always seemed to use to stare into your soul with.

He’d been told that he must stop, or they’d make him stop. Vincent didn’t stop. It wasn’t even a bad thing that he was doing, and anyways, it was his life’s work. The only thing he was good for, fixing his own mistakes.

(Sorry, I know, short response. Been a lil busy lmao)