(Fish here! I also run @ask-shadow-medic-soli blog, I keep trying to write a proper intro for King, but get distracted easily so this is a place holder for now. I figured I should make a pinned post.
Boundaries are pretty standard for asks, flirting, NSFW, and romantic RPs are okay. explicit or graphic ones are not.
Some basic Intel for him, he's a cocky flirtatious tech specialist who acts as tech support when he isn't in the field. He has a mask with a smile crudely painted on and He keeps his balaclava on, never showing more then his lower face and he's dressed head to toe with little to no skin showing.)
(Ps if you want to see art of him join @backseatsoldier's discord CoD: Chokehold it's a great community full of amazingly sweet people.)
Put one in my ask box for a text my muse would send to yours
# for a random text
@ for a middle of the night text
* for a drunk text
+ for a loving text
÷ for a depressed text
= for a scared text
& for a curious text
$ for a accidental text
¥ for a drugged text
(Hey it's sarge, I want to seriously apologize for my inactivity. I want to get back into roleplay and I thought I was good to go when I posted those open RPs turns out no, but to make a long story short my house flooded about a week and half ago and I was informed that there is a chance my spouse might lose their job and by extension our home and healthcare. So I've been in consistent panic mode hoping that it's panic for no reason. There is a chance I'll be back to posting in coming weeks or I might have to put @ask-shadow-medic-soli, @callsign-king, and @k-4spade in an indefinite hiatus. I'll post an update as things become more solid.)
March 16th... fucking March 16th, the cool of the march air brushed along Kyle's maskless face as he took a swig of the half full bottle of whiskey. One of the rare occasions he was without it. He doubted anyone would actually recognize him. Always too careful not to show everything.
His work uniform traded in for a loose graphic tee and a fitted leather jacket with thick jeans and cowboy boots; a black stetson laying heavy on his head like a crown bearing the mark of his family's ranch.
Yeah he was sure no one would recognize him as the King, his mind drifting back to that time 4 years ago to the day. The panic he felt as Marie answered that damned call, they found her missing husband Gunnery Sergeant McNeil alive but half dead, malnourished, and out of it. He had felt so much guilt prying himself out of Marie's marital bed. He had defiled it countless times indulging in the flesh of a woman he had grown to care for in their shared grief of losing their husbands, but that guilt turned to grief when the Lieutenant had received grim news about his own husband.
Killed just two days before they got to McNeil. If they had been two days faster maybe... it wasn't fair. They had refused to look! Everything off the book! Technically didn’t know! Technically presumed dead! TECHNICALLY HE WAS ALIVE!!!
~~King~~ Kyle took another swig looking back at the stars, the rage bubbling in his chest thinking so hard about the past he used to have. The laughter of his husband. Those beautiful blue eyes; striking and joyful. A treasure that belonged to him like a diamond stolen by a thief. Kyle looked like a mess sitting next to the dumpster just outside of... huh, look at that he's so piss drunk he can't even recall where he is. Probably couldn't even stand to save his life at this point.
"I should've come, Degarre," he muttered to himself. His mind drifted to the giant bastard's sorry excuses revealing far more about what had happened then the Lieutenant had been made aware of. Excuses that make Kyle's blood burn with anger turning his best friend into his worst enemy. The things that man had done to his husband… The King had every right to steal the Queen of the Sun, after all the Sun stole the King’s Prince. The anger bubbling and broiling as it came to a screaming howl. He couldn’t rage any longer as he flung the empty bottle hard against the wall cursing loudly, "It should've been me!" 4 years ago to the day... he found out his husband had only been dead two days. Fat tears rolling down his face he didn't even notice the sound of someone just down the Alley.
(This can be an open rp if anyone wants to. I just needed to get the brain worms out. Heavy stuff after the cut. CW in the tags, be mindful. Also. Blame Adrien. Drops this and disappears.)
Jeanz shot up in her bed, the remnants of cruel laughter echoing in her mind. Her breathing was fast and panicked as she scrubbed her hands over her face, willing herself to calm down. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare...but it had been different this time.
Those she cared about were never in her nightmare, but they had been this time. They had been a part of it. Jeanz shook her head, wiping the tears off of her cheeks. She couldn't be in her room anymore; it was too small. Too enclosed. It felt as if the walls were closing in, making her panic more.
She got up, not bothering to fix her tangled hair, grabbed a hoodie from her closet it and slipped it over her head. She walked over to her dresser, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter off of it, then opening the top draw and pulling out a bottle of whiskey she had stashed in there. Turning, she walked over to her door, not bothering to put on shoes, exited, making sure she was quiet as she shut the door.
Jeanz walked through the hallway, her mind still stuck on what had happened in her nightmare this time. It was almost muscle memory on where she was going, cigarettes stuffed in the pocket of the hoodie along with the lighter, bottle held tightly in her hand. No one else should be awake; it was well past midnight.
She made it to the mess hall, heading for the back of the room, where the hatch to the roof was. Wasting no time in climbing up the ladder and shoving said hatch open. As she made it to the roof, she didn't bother to shut the hatch, leaving it open.
No one will come lookin' for me anyways.
There it was, the self hate; she was wondering when it would pop up. She made her way over to the edge of the roof, already twisting the top off of the whiskey and taking a generous drink of the brown liquid. As she sat down on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over the side, she fished her cigarettes out of her hoodie pocket, pulled one out, and tossed the pack just behind her.
She pulled out her lighter and lit the end of the cancer stick, taking a long drag as she shoved her lighter back into the hoodie pocket. She exhaled the smoke as she pulled the cigarette from her lips, taking another drink from the bottle, her hand shaking slightly.
Her mind drifted back to the nightmare as she stared up at the night sky. It had started normally. The whip hitting her back, the knife going through her hand, the knife dragged down her shin, the knife dragged across her chest, the knife in her side. Fuck, even the knife on her face was normal.
Then it changed.
Fuck. Fuck me.
The person who tortured her was normally the one who had actually done it. But not this time. No, this time, the person kept changing. First, the person changed to Garrison. He had laughed cruelly, talking about how it wouldn't happen again. Garrison had the whip.
Then, Garrison changed into Ghost, talking about how she couldn't be as strong as she pretended to be, not if she was terrified of spiders. Ghost had the knife that went through her hand, a cruel laugh leaving him.
After Ghost, the person changed into Phoenix. He talked about how he wished that soldier had beaten the shit out of Jeanz. Phoenix had the second knife that gashed down her shin, a cruel laugh falling from his masked face.
Then, the person went from Phoenix to Lazarus, who talked about how Jeanz didn't deserve anyone. Lazarus had the third knife that dragged across her chest, a nasty laugh leaving him.
Lazarus had morphed into King, then. Another cruel laugh and mocking words of how everything had been a lie. King had the knife that went in her side and pulled down. King turned into Rudy, who told her that his abuela would never like her. Rudy had the knife that went down her cheek, a cruel snicker leaving him.
Rudy melted into Clara, who cruelly laughed and called Jeanz the worst sister. An ex-drug addict who should have stayed with Declan. Clara had the knife that went over her eye. Then, Clara faded into Cedric. Cedric, who said everything they had talked about and everything he said, was a lie; he never cared about her. As he had dragged the last knife across her lips, that's when Jeanz woke up.
Jeanz took another giant swig from the whiskey, tears gathering in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she remembered the nightmare.
It's probably all true. They're all happy with each other. Why should I get in between that?
Jeanz didn't even realize she had let out a sob as she shakily lifted the cigarette back to her lips, taking a long drag and killing half of the cancer stick in one go. Another sob left her as she exhaled the smoke.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
King had been hiding on the roof tops memorizing the stars, his nigh shit, filled with the same horror ever night... That's not true it's been shifting and twisting new faces there. Faces of the ones who had begun to haunt his every move. Some nights it was Rudy, but tonight it was her. His mind memorizing the way he held her rotting corpse tonight. The way he had cradled Jeanz whispering how he should of been faster stronger. How he should've followed her. Should've gone on that mission even if it meant death for him as well.
She was alive, he knew that. He could hear her giggling in the chow hall with all of her other lovers. They'd be so much better for her, they're not broken smoking on a roof top dreaming about her like a husband long since dead. He was avoiding her. Avoiding all of them, toying with moving on and abandoning the beautiful life he had started to build.
He was so focused on not breaking down for the third time tonight trying to convince himself not to walk into Price's office thank him for the chance and leaving like some con man who swindled his way in and finding a quick retreat.
That's when he heard it... A sniffle and the oh so familiar sound of a bottle of booze being consumed. Come from the shadow eyes puffy and red he straightened up giving his signature smile, "Princess Jeanz pray tell your majesty, what is someone such as yourself doing all the way up here?" His eyes scanning her face. It pained him to see her hurt but he could tell she was here for the same reason he was...
Attachments and regrets. His hand instinctively moving up as he reached for her face. "Please burden your king your majesty."
Heck, it had taken some thoughts and some well placed tracking with the help of BAP to finally find a place where that pendejo would pop out of the mists more times than others.
So Rudy had set down a packet of Poppy-seeds to plant at the others liking, and had carefully extracted wild Poppies with earth and had transferred it into a small ceramic pot with lots of small carvings around it.
A small satchel sits beside it, guarding a letter from flying away. The satchel is filled with handmade chocolate snacks, some more elegant looking than others.
"King,
I wrote you a song, but it’s not very good
I wanted to serenade you, the best way I could
But it came out more, like a list of complaints
Because as much as I love you
Some days you drive me insane.
- you know"
@callsign-king
King was startled coming up to the front porch of his home. A place by all means shouldn't be know by anyone and yet he saw a potted plant and a satchel with the note pinned. He didn't know anyone knew of this place, but apparently Rudy did... He hummed looking it over chuckled quietly a soft smile hidden behind his mask. He knew the perfect place for this beauty, happily setting his sea bag down and grabbing the pot he walked it to the back where a well maintained green house sat filled with all kind of pretty flowers he'd tell kid that came during the week to take care of it though a piece of him wish he had the balls to take it inside.
Slowly piece by piece King was feeling more and more like the man he was 5 years ago when he was with him. A his hands shaky as he placed it next to a yellow Poppy. Hands lightly grazing the yellow Poppy, "What am I doing my king, how could I do this to you?" He spoke softly looking at the red poppy that sat next. Not a traditional gift of love and affection and yet it hit a place deep inside.
He'd make sure to repay the man back 10 fold. His hand settling on a worn out joke book. Opening the cover, "A life filled with laughter is the only one worth living" -Degarre Kinnarid. Maybe Rudy would appreciate something in return...
---
Rudy later that evening was greeted by a neatly tied bow with a note tied to the top, "you may have a million and one complaints your majesty, yet you're always coming back for your king. That said I think it is only fitting that someone who continues to destroys my walls with the help of a fair maiden should have a taste of the real king."
Inside the box is various homemade candies, a small box of lemon bars, and worn out and well loved joke book with a hand written inscription by a Degarre Kinnarid. Below that, "my late husband loved telling these silly jokes, maybe you can share the laughter with me." - LT. Con Kinnarid
A note finds King and it reads:
My King, come ta my room, I 'ave a surprise for ye.
At the bottom is a lipstick mark and it's signed,
Jeanz <3
When King arrives at her room, Jeanz was standing there, wearing a simple dark purple dress that hugged her curves in a the right places. In her hands she has one of his favorite snacks and in her other she held a bottle of some fancy wine.
"I didn't really know what to get ye, so I hope this is okay."
King walked into the room not sure what he was expecting, but seeing Princess Jeanz in all her beautiful glory... It had him rushing forward picking her like a bride twirling her around, "oh your majesty, this is more then perfect and though I must inquire with the utmost respect your majesty, do I get to unwrap my gift at the end of the night?" He he spoke with a grin hidden beneath his mask he was giddy and excited. Is it honestly been years since he had received a Valentine's Day surprise. So this, this was most appreciated.
.... Do you know the feeling, when you are hyped and want to write, and then you open your social media and... All of a sudden, you are not good enough anymore?
Tips how to get out of that?
You are awesome though and I adore you and your mun. <3
You are too kind my Liege, but yes it is quite a familiar beast. While writing is not my creative curse to bare per say, I feel that way about my paintings. It can be quite devastating to have this picture of grandeur plague ones mind calling out like a siren begging to be seen and heard and yet like a shy maiden she refuses to show. So you are left aching staring at the blankness before you. You're chest gnawing as she chews at her tail caught in a bear trap of your own mind scrapping against whatever drive one has slowly tearing even that away.
It hurts physically, bringing even I, a strong willed man, to my knees wanting nothing more then to indulge in a desire to make, but sometimes it's not the act that is the problem but rather the muse or medium. Sometimes a short story needs to become a poem. Something a painting needs to become a sculpture.
Or even sometimes you need to focus on something else entirely. Something that gets you locked not noticing as the time flies by as everything goes still. Most importantly it's okay to step away and come back later.
Of course I dare say the most valuable asset to combat such a creative block is a valiant advisor to talk your thoughts out with. Have someone to parry the ideas back and forth until it could be sculpted into something you can be proud of. Seriously the biggest blessing I have ever had is having a fellow creative to sit there and help me see where the flaws are that I know exist but cannot tell.
After all sometimes we are so often blinded by our own greatness that the glory of our creation is lost to our perception and all we can see is the flaw of it's silhouette.
Find your person or your people and listen when they praise and listen when they offer help. And of course in the most highest priorities be that person for them. Help your fellow creative see the greatness in their work and help them see where they're blocked maybe from.
(thank you! I'm glad you like me and King! Also know you are not alone. There are so many writers on this site who struggle with that self doubt who look at their writing like it was drawn by a kindergartener, but to everyone else it looks like a Renaissance painting done Michelangelo himself. I personally perceive my writing like that often where it feels lacking in so many ways.
Another tip that is incredibly helpful for me is type it up in notes app on your phone or computer.
Doesn't matter if you decide not to publish it later, just having that separate source where you can put whatever bullshit you want to text is helpful. For me it feels less like I'm writing to a large audience and more like I'm writing for myself which I often forget is ultimately who I'm doing it for.
If I like the idea and it brings me joy that's all that matters and if only one other person finds joy in my creation then it was worth publishing. And if none of that works out take a day or two breathe focus on the world around socialize with others do something silly. Grab your friend and write whatever silly thing comes to mind, doesn't matter if it's unhinged or makes sense use it as a pallet cleanser. Create with the intention to silence the critic in your head if only for a moment.)
King sits in Rudy's office flipping through the papers humming along to a song on the radio. Mask hiked up above his nose as he casually sips on his margarita.
How we got in here is anyone's guess, but he's here for one thing and one thing only. Too bad the damn hard-working bastard is taking so long to get back and discover the rat in his office.
- @callsign-king
Rudy shakes his head as he walks towards his office, his breath still coming in quick and harder than normal from training with the recruits and then his personal training time. It felt good to let loose once in a while, to just let all his frustration out while doing some cardio.
It does leave him like this though, shirt opened, perspiration from the shower still drying on his skin, his hair tousled and unkempt, his belt not as firmly buckled.
He tilts his head sideways, loosening his muscles a bit more, giving a delighted groan as a blockade in his spine finally gives.
He reaches out for the door to his office, wanting to get some things before going home but he stops, freezes, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the door. His slightly ajar office door. He was sure he had locked it...
He pushes the door open, his eyes flicking about before landing on the figure sitting on his office chair, leaning back and sipping a drink. Rudy doesn't know if he should be exasperated, angry or happy about the visitor though.
"...King. What the heck are you doing in my office? I swear I locked it."
"You did mi amor," King chuckles lightly taking another sip of his margarita. "But I wouldn't exactly call that lock a deterrent for anyone but the most honest your majesty..."
The other man set the glass down lacing his fingers together before rest his chin a top smirking as he took in the beauty before, the man's chest hair peaking out from beneath where the shirt was unbutton the sheen of skin making him look so ethereal. "I came here because you are rather difficult man to get a hold of, Nunca contestas tu teléfono cuando llamo."
Rising to his feet hand dragging along the desk his own uniform a bit rumpled the front of his with the stench of fruity alcohol seeping off his skin, "It's almost like you're avoiding me your majesty." He chuckled adjusting the front of his jacket to show a bit more skin. "But that can't be true can it mi amor?"
He is speechless, watching King as he lazes in his office chair, looking for the world as if there was no better place, no more comfortable chair or couch around but the one that Rudy used everyday.
His gaze flicks over the man, taking in his slightly tilted way of sitting, and he could hear the barest tinge of a lull in his words.
Rudy was flabbergasted, last time they met, they rolled around in the dirt, fighting, brawling because Jeanz, King wanting him to be loud and honest with his feelings, and now that man, that insufferable man, was flirting with him? Calling him 'mi armor'?
He is sure he is going to get emotional whiplash one of these days. How does Ale live wit this?
"So, let me get this straight, you came by because I didn't call you? Or send you another form of communication? So you broke into my office, with a drink, and waited here?" Rudy had to smile, it sounded so off the charts, so unreal, but at the same time it was something he could see the other doing.
He steps forward coming to a stand just a few steps away from King, a scent of something fruity and alocholic hitting his nose and making him inhale gently. "Avoiding you? You were the one going after last time? And are you drunk? You smell like a cocktail bar, for shame, and you didnt even get me one as well?"
Rudy was just a bit out of his depth, how do you deal with that? How do you deal with a man flirting with you and who made your skin burn along your cheeks?
"Sit... Sit down before you fall.. Lemme get you a water..."
In case of emotional emergencies, manners always helped. He hoped.
King chuckled downing the cherry liquid letting the heat of it sizzle in his chest as he stepped forward, "why has mi amor not come to me? Does he find me repulsive? Embarrassing? Disgusting? Perhaps I was not clear when I said I wanted both of you?" His boots echoing against the floor with each heavy step, he maybe was a bit more than tipsy. Having downed one and a half? two? maybe three Margarita mixes? Before even unlocking that door.
It was the only way he could bring himself to come here. After all the last time he had worked up the courage to court a strong and handsome man he was left in Vienna with no ID, lost, and no way back home to the states. Not that he didn't deserve it, he did piss off the guy for the upteenth time. Pressing buttons he knew existed plenty...
"come on mi amor, let me Court you like the proper Prince you are. Let me take you out for a drink, we can talk details over the remaining bottle of Margarita underneath your desk." He purred backing the man against the wall letting his large arms cage him.
"Conviértete en el aire que se instala en mis pulmones y se convierte en mi nueva vida." He whispered leaning in closer inhaling the distinctive sense of sweat and Musk that was oh so appetizing.
"Please your majesty one date. That's all I'm asking." He looked up with half lidded wanting eyes face flushed from the alcohol in his system it was clear he wasn't completely in the right mind right now.
TW: Angst, loss, body horror, self hate (King goes home for the weekend for home maintenance)
(Generally just putting a thought into writing about what king does on the weekend. Inspired by Teebs writing on @las-almas-border-patrol for Rudy. Their drabbles for Rudy is just so great and I adore it. It's not an RP thing. Though please read the TWs)
King could feel the exhaustion in his bones as he pushed open the door of his nearly empty home, Furniture covered in plastic sheets, with a thick layer of dust coating the shelves and even the walls. he kept the outside immaculate, whenever he came home for the weekends it's just spent outside entire time.
the only consistently cleaned place in the inside was a maintained and polished dresser decorated with photos and knick knacks. his hand drifting to a picture of a marine with brilliant blue eyes and dark hair the pooled into ringlets atop his head, "good evening my King, your majesty has returned." he hummed sadly setting the picture down removing his mask. Eyes falling onto the dirty cracked mirror across the hall, a hallow man looking back at him. with sharp dark eye brows and startling grey eyes. "what are you looking at?" it snarled at him. King stepped back in anger and frustration.
he really should remove that.
It serves no purpose.
'He put it up though?' the thought shooting through the man like a railgun. dropping the thought to move to the kitchen, his mind drifting as he saw a younger him singing as he ran to kitchen hugging a shorter man from behind, "Eres tan sabrosa como huele tu comida." King muttered in the other's neck.
"I'm glad you like it," The short man chuckled, "Gunny is coming by with Marie and little Dani, and I really hope they like it."
"And they will mi amor because they like you." the young King's hands softly grasping the ladle in his husband's pulling him away from the stove. The two of them dancing slowly though there was no music except in his heart as he guided his lover to and fro. "your cooking is divine made by the hands of a god." he mused twirling the other around.
A scoff escaped his throat as he was brought back to the present. nails digging into the trim as he quells his rage staring into the empty dusty kitchen. A pot still on the stove, though empty, sleep that's all he needs... then he'll head out to the garden for day. His mind not giving him a rest as he trudges up the stairs, giggling and laughter echoing in his head.
a younger king holding his new groom across the threshold of their new home. a life they built. the younger man dressed in his blues looking rather dashing as the officer towers over him. "I still don't understand why you agreed to all this?" the younger man laughed laying sprawled out on the bed while young King's hands explored and tugged at every button and strap.
"Do you remember the mission before I proposed?" he enquired exposing the bare and hairy chest of his lover. the thick dark curls barely hiding the fading scars that marked him. The short man hummed in agreement feeling a contented a purr in the back of his throat.
"you could've died," King explained gently, "and all I would've gotten was an email about a subordinate losing his life and told to notify his next of kin. I want to be the one to hold your flag or the very least to have you hold mine. We both deserved better then an email. Our love deserves to be declared."
A soft hand reaching up, the memory shifting and contorting, the warm chest beneath him flayed open, his eyes darting up as half of his amor's was just face gone, just a void where his jaw should be, an eye missing staring blankly back at him. "Don't worry, I promise I'll never die. Just do the same for me." His husband chuckled a flicker between the horror he feels and the memory of the past fighting to choose which one he should see. which one feels more right.
Jolting back to the present he feels nauseous, he wants to remember that night, but every time he does, it gets little more twisted, the rot starting sooner and sooner. sometimes he wonders if they'll come a day when in his memory all he brings over the threshold is a corpse...
His hand gripping a metal card in his pocket setting on the night stand; the Ace of Spades. A good luck charm he could hear su amor say. He needed sleep. His bones aching for rest as he drags his feet from the bed to an old rusty cot. King's large form falling face down a top; the springs squeaking louder then should be possible, but he didn't care he needed sleep. His mind replaying the memories again watching every interaction with his mind's eye. "Te extraño mi amor." He mumbled again the musty pillow. Whatever mask he wore, wasn't needed here. Not when he was alone with nothing but his memories.
What if....I just stole you from Rudy and King?
I mean, they seem more intent on flirting with each other than you.
And you deserve the best.
I could treat you right. Give you everything you need. Give you everything you want?
They don't give you their full attention and you deserve all of the attention for valentines day.
*There is a giant bouquet of blue, red, purple, and yellow roses placed in front of her bedroom door on base with the note that says all of that in messy handwriting. Along with a shamrock necklace and some fancy looking heels*
Jeanz stares wide eyed at the flowers outside her room, furrowing her brow at the heels. She didn't wear heels, she literally couldn't walk in them, but they looked expensive. She cautiously picked both the bouquet and heels up, reading the note, noticing the shamrock necklace.
"I...what the?" she muttered to herself, tilting her head to the side.
The note wasn't even signed.
"I really dun mind if they flirt wit' each other. I'm poly soooo, I just get two handsome men at tha same time, which is amazin'. An' maybe I like watchin'."
My Liege, you can ask for her attention, I will take no offence, as she is a maiden with a heart big enough to share, but you'll need to find someone else for valentine's day.
Princess Jeanz will otherwise be occupied with I and Lord Rudy. From what we have discussed Lord Rudy has the most wonderful place picked out for the three of us to indulge in the desires of the heart.
After all it is not a competition when it comes to her majesty and the affection she gives.
King sits in Rudy's office flipping through the papers humming along to a song on the radio. Mask hiked up above his nose as he casually sips on his margarita.
How we got in here is anyone's guess, but he's here for one thing and one thing only. Too bad the damn hard-working bastard is taking so long to get back and discover the rat in his office.
- @callsign-king
Rudy shakes his head as he walks towards his office, his breath still coming in quick and harder than normal from training with the recruits and then his personal training time. It felt good to let loose once in a while, to just let all his frustration out while doing some cardio.
It does leave him like this though, shirt opened, perspiration from the shower still drying on his skin, his hair tousled and unkempt, his belt not as firmly buckled.
He tilts his head sideways, loosening his muscles a bit more, giving a delighted groan as a blockade in his spine finally gives.
He reaches out for the door to his office, wanting to get some things before going home but he stops, freezes, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the door. His slightly ajar office door. He was sure he had locked it...
He pushes the door open, his eyes flicking about before landing on the figure sitting on his office chair, leaning back and sipping a drink. Rudy doesn't know if he should be exasperated, angry or happy about the visitor though.
"...King. What the heck are you doing in my office? I swear I locked it."
"You did mi amor," King chuckles lightly taking another sip of his margarita. "But I wouldn't exactly call that lock a deterrent for anyone but the most honest your majesty..."
The other man set the glass down lacing his fingers together before rest his chin a top smirking as he took in the beauty before, the man's chest hair peaking out from beneath where the shirt was unbutton the sheen of skin making him look so ethereal. "I came here because you are rather difficult man to get a hold of, Nunca contestas tu teléfono cuando llamo."
Rising to his feet hand dragging along the desk his own uniform a bit rumpled the front of his with the stench of fruity alcohol seeping off his skin, "It's almost like you're avoiding me your majesty." He chuckled adjusting the front of his jacket to show a bit more skin. "But that can't be true can it mi amor?"
It has been brought to my attention by a friend that some RP blogs (that I don't recognize the handles for, so I'm asuming they're fresh to the community) have been interacting with other fandom members posts, but not specifying if it's out of character or not.
As a roleplay blog, it is your responsibility to make sure creators are ok with you interacting, in-character, with their content. A lot of content creators have such posted somewhere on their blog whether or not they are ok with in-character interactions. It is your responsibility, as the interactor, to make sure you are specifying if you are interacting in-character or out based on the creator's contnent of which you are attempting to interact with.
Not everyone is ok with our (roleplayers') interactions in-character on their content. That is reansonable and should be respected. PLEASE check a creator's blog for their boundaries PRIOR to interacting with a roleplay blog handle. If you see no mention of rp blog in-character interaction (permission OR denial), please assume that is a NO/Do Not Interact.
I would like to note that no one is "in trouble", we just need to be aware - as a community - that some people in fandoms (not just CoD) don't even want the fan-made content, others just want art or fic, some want to roleplay or interact with the roleplay blogs, etc, but not all fandom members want every side of the fandom.
Creators/Creator Blogs
It is your responsibility to have your boundaries for interacting with your blog posted somewhere that is easily found on your blog. Yes, some would assume "no mention of consent to 'x' interaction listed" would mean "do not interact", but other people do not read a lack of boundary as such, unfortunately. I am hoping that this post, as the rp side of CoD Tumblr is still small, will reach as many roleplay blogs as possible.
I hope everyone is having a beautiful time zone! I will have my own boundaries/blog interactions up soon, but will say here that I am just fine with the roleplay blogs interacting with this blog ( @lilbardrhi ) in character. This statement will be included in my pinned post once I finish it and get it posted/pinned.
Roleplay blogs I have interacted with (in and out of character) or am following (not that y'all are doing this, I just want to make sure this is seen) tags to spread awareness: @ghost-askblog @askthemactav @shadow-5-05 @shadow-2-08 @shadowcompanys-medic-beaks @itsvargen @krueger-acc @brav0six @ask-private-141 @call-sign-songbird @konigisking @justradiospirit @ask-corporaltwins-141 @verytiredmedic @ask-theplaguedahlia @callsign-king @shadow5-7 @captain-after-dark @lieutenant-banks @lusttoke @callsign-trebletrouble @alejandro-ask @el-perro-rabiosa @callsign-kits @price-askblog @b1gm0n3yb1gg3rc4n3 @callsign-cups @ask-alejandro @keegan-askblog @generalshepherd-askblog @gaz-askblog @ask-alex-keller @valera-askblog @ask-roachsanderson @jeanzoriley-cod @ask-gaz @ask-soapmactavish @ask-phillip-graves @johnprice-asks @ask-philgraves @soap-askblog @konig-askbox <- Literally everyone I'm following. If I know you have different blogs for different characters, I only tagged one blog. If I don't know such information, I apologize for the multi-tag. Just trying to keep everyone on the same page. Notice that my tags for this post are not just "cod rp", but also "cod fanfic" and "cod fanart".
We need to work together to make sure boundaries are respected.
Adore you all!
The Lil Bard, Rhi (previously backseatsoldier)
P.S. - If you are a minor running a roleplay blog, you have my express permission to reblog this post!!!
((Teebs here, beware of content. Not quite MDNI, but please be aware of skin mentioned and dropping fabric.))
Rudy stood where he and King had fought, or better, brawled before, dirt and dust still clinging to his clothes and partly his skin. He didn’t move much after helping the other up, one leg slightly crossed in front of the other, body turned in a way that made looking at his silhouette harder and he had used his arms to keep the attention “up”.
And now he was utterly alone again, only some birds chirping around him.
Rudy takes a shuddering breath, reaching down one hand to press it against his upper thigh, fingers splayed close to the problem he had been left with.
“Mierda.” He rumbles under his breath, unbuttoning his jacket and slinging it around his hips, pulling the back of the jacket in front of him, so his thighs and lower belly are hidden by the heavy fabric.
Taking small, wobbly and not quite straight steps, he slowly makes his way into his office building again, one hand pressed against the wall to keep himself upright and the other palming his jacket, so it doesn’t fall, trying to hide the thing he does not want anyone to notice.
The way inside is long, his steps slow and his movements awkward as he cussed the other male out under his breath, eyes halfway shut as he pants, remembering how it came to this, those legs around his own, trapping him, holding him down as he…
“Fuck!” Rudy finally reaches the bathroom connected to his office, slamming the door behind himself as he leans against the sturdy wood. He lets his head thump against it, two, three times, his breathing harsh as the bright light activates at the ceiling, bathing everything around him into a warm yellow shine.
His heart is racing in his chest, the hand on top of the jacket balling, tugging the cloth loose. He must take care of it, has to take care of his problem now, before someone can see it. Or talk to him about it.
With a final curse, Rudy lets go off the jacket, the fabric hitting the floor of his bathroom with a rustling sound. His now free hand wanders to the buckle of his belt, opening it, quickly followed by the sound of his zipper opening, the button opened silently.
“Fucking shit.”
His pants fall to his ankles, and he hesitates, still looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to acknowledge the problem until he really had to, but he can’t ignore it for long.
Groaning he reaches down, fingertips easily finding his boxers and pushing those down as well, the fabric now pooling all around his ankles.
His fingers hesitate, tracing along his lower belly area, down the happy trail and south south south, stroking along skin, tracing scars on their way until he finally reaches his goal, can finally take care of his problem. He shifts his hand, curling his fingers around the offending thing, touch tight and hot and he moans, biting into his other hand to muffle the sounds coming from his mouth.
And he tugs, the titan-colored fabric resisting his tries to get them back up, to not lay bunched around his lower thigh, hindering his movements at all.
“Fuck this. How the heck did he pull this down?”
Rudy grunts, now using both hands to grab onto the stiffer sides of his brace, pulling the tight bandage back to where it belongs, the upper part coming to a stop right at the point where his leg meets his hip. It hurts, but as soon as the bandage is in place again, he gives a sigh of relief.
“Right… Now to care for my second problem.” His hands move, one curling in preparation, the other on its way to his face.
