❝ Steel is forged through fire. Honor is tested through war. A man is defined by both. ❞ IM AT @lorebounds
carrd (wip) || memes || psa. || headcanons.
|| visual || Icon border Credit || aesthetic || lore.
𝘈 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴
This is a selective, private, and lore-driven RP blog for Cyrus Leonhardt, An Orignal Character, written by Boba (she/her, 27, PST). Blogroll: ( @romaniescu / @blackhardtt / @lorebounds )
Here, you’ll find:
✦ 𝘔𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪-𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘔𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪-𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘱 RP threads & interactions
✦ Dark Fantasy, Medieval, & High Fantasy Themes
✦ Character Development, Angst, and Found Family (and more)
✦ Ships? Slow-burn. Enemies? Inevitable. Rivals? Let’s dance
𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴
King of Kings – The reigning monarch, beloved by his people, burdened by duty.
Prince of Indore – A lion in a gilded cage, torn between destiny and the call of battle.
Knight of the Crown – A sworn sword, bound to protect, forever loyal.
Madness Incarnate – Cursed. Unhinged. A weapon wielded by the gods.
The Aftermath – An immortal who has walked the ruins of time, searching for meaning.
Castlevania → A cursed hunter, bound by blood, waging war against the night.
The Blacksmith – A man who shapes steel, haunted by the past.
Bloodstained Crown – A tyrant draped in crimson, ruling through fear and fire.
The Heir – Burdened by legacy, mending wounds in others while bearing scars of his own.
The Witcher -> The Ravines Orphan
𝘕𝘖𝘛𝘌𝘚 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘍𝘖𝘓𝘓𝘖𝘞𝘌𝘙𝘚
✦ 20+ only | Selective & private | No minors.
✦ Respect my boundaries. Dark themes may be present (violence, war, tragedy).
✦ Memes, drabbles, and shitposts are welcome. We’re here for fun too!
✦ OC-friendly, crossover-friendly. Just bring good vibes.
HI GUYS! sorry i haven't been on here!! but i am officially at @lorebounds !! Cyrus is on that account as having a Multi is much easier for me than swapping between two blogs!! ;w;/! thank you to new followers and I'll see you over there!! <3
HI GUYS! sorry i haven't been on here!! but i am officially at @lorebounds !! Cyrus is on that account as having a Multi is much easier for me than swapping between two blogs!! ;w;/! thank you to new followers and I'll see you over there!! <3
An independent, highly selective multimuse roleplay blog featuring a cast of complex original characters—each one adored and carefully crafted by Boba / Outlaw (she/her, 27, PST).
carrd [wip] | visual art | memes | psa. | @kaziraq
Khal Tohran: info || Visual
Aurelia Tiwari: info || visual || pinboard
Roderick Blackthorn: info || visual
Amara Valtessa: info || visual
A blink—then another. A polite smile curled at the corner of his lips, soft and almost hesitant. "oh -!!… there really isn’t a need—" he started, only to pause as his gaze met hers. There was an expectancy in her eyes, quiet and warm, and suddenly refusing seemed impolite—no, outright rude. But to let her pay? That wasn’t his style either. His chest rose with a slow inhale, the crisp Parisian air fogging faintly as he exhaled.
"A cup of tea, you say?" His voice carried a low, gravelly timbre, the faint edge of a German accent softening the vowels. "Ja… that does sound nice for this weather." His gaze dropped toward the cobblestone beneath his feet before lifting toward her face once more. His eyes were a cool, muted teal, flickering briefly toward the sky. "Do you… have a particular spot you like?" His brow furrowed slightly. "I’m… new here."
New to the city, new to the country. It had been a while since he’d left home, and the foreignness of it all still sat heavy on his skin. "Uh…" His tongue slipped out, running briefly across his lower lip as he shifted his weight. His eyes lowered, then glanced to the side as if trying to gather a stray thought. A brief silence before he spoke again, the words laced with that understated German bite.
"Je m’appelle Cyrus." He learned French a bit back, but time had long passed since he needed to use it. It would take some time for the knowledge to return to him, and he just prayed he wasn’t butchering it so far. His gaze softened as his lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Et toi?"
Okay, y'all. I'm at @lorebounds for the time being! ;w; IM SORRY!! This will feature Aurelia, Roderick, and Tohran. I will be deleting the Dothraki solo blog because, well, he's going to be located on this one instead -- <3
The doctor shifted against the polished wood of the bar, the smooth grain cool against his back as he nursed his drink. Cyrus was never one for crowds — not really. It wasn’t the noise or even the press of bodies that got to him. It was the feeling of being swallowed whole by the sheer volume of people — hands reaching out, invisible, clutching at his throat and squeezing until his chest locked up. Always searching for air and finding none.
He didn’t know why he let his friends drag him here. They’d long since scattered into the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor, lost beneath the strobe lights and thumping bass. The sharp tang of sweat mixed with the grease of fried food and the sticky sweetness of spilled drinks, creating a cocktail of heat and stale breath that clung to his skin. The smell alone made his jaw tighten. He never understood how people found this enjoyable — the noise, the chaos — the feeling of being part of a crowd but somehow more alone than ever. His hand tightened around the glass as he lifted it to his lips. Aged whiskey — smooth but biting — burned a trail down his throat and settled warm and heavy in his chest. He welcomed the sting. At least it gave him something to focus on.
Teal eyes scanned the room, half-lidded, guarded. He watched the crowd move — hips pressed together, hands trailing across shoulders and backs — as if there was some hidden language in the way people touched each other. His gaze lingered on nothing in particular, the rim of his glass brushing against his lower lip. It was easy to disappear in places like this — to fade into the background — but Cyrus could never quite let himself melt away completely. He was too tall, too sharp-edged, always looking down at people and feeling just a little too aware of how different he was.
His shoulders rolled, a faint ache settling into his muscles. Another sip. Another burn. He could feel the edges of his mind softening, that low hum of tension easing beneath the weight of the alcohol. Maybe he’d stay a little longer. Maybe not. Either way, it didn’t really matter.
" don't you like parties ? "
The voice drifted through the haze of sound and movement, cutting through the low hum of conversation and the heavy thud of bass vibrating beneath the floorboards. Cyrus didn’t respond at first — not because he was ignoring them, but because it didn’t register right away that someone was talking to him. That someone had actually noticed his lack of engagement, the sharp lines of his shoulders drawn too tight, the way his gaze kept drifting toward the exit.
He thought he’d been subtle. Controlled. Apparently not. His gaze swept the room before landing on them — a pair of eyes looking up at him, bright and sharp, reflecting the dim lights like polished glass. Their expression wasn’t easy to read — playful? Teasing? Genuinely curious? Or maybe a mix of all three. He wasn’t sure. That uncertainty tugged at something in the back of his mind.
He lowered his glass, resting it against his chest as he inclined his head slightly toward them. His lips tugged into the barest hint of a smile — more muscle memory than anything — before a quiet, low chuckle slipped past his throat. “Ah… that noticeable?” His tone was dry, self-aware, a quiet confession wrapped in the shape of a question. His fingers tapped against the side of his glass, the sharp edge of ice against glass filling the silence between them. “Not really my thing,” he admitted, the polite curve of his smile lingering for a moment before fading at the edges. His gaze softened slightly. “And you?” His head tilted a fraction lower, a spark of curiosity now flickering beneath the coolness of his tone. “You like this sorta thing?”
The noise of the room stretched around them — the throb of music, the rise and fall of laughter — but in that moment, it all felt muted, like the sound of crashing waves filtered through thick glass. His attention sharpened, settling entirely on them.
"My heart was sworn to you long before I knew it… and I shall guard it, as I guard you — until my last breath." Cyrus & Marceline @herdoubt
Art by: 99sora66
VItya: *Answers phone.* Hello?
Cyrus: It's Cyrus.
VItya: What did they do this time?
Cyrus: No, it's me, VItya. It's actually me.
VItya: What did you do this time?
Cyrus: Are you free tomorrow?
VItya: No, I’m fucking expensive every day.
Cyrus: What are you in the mood for?
VItya: World domination.
Cyrus: That's a bit ambitious.
VItya: You are my world.
Cyrus: Aww...
VItya:
Cyrus:
VItya:
Cyrus: OH.
Cyrus: Wow, VItya, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.
VItya: We literally slept together yesterday.
Cyrus: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.
VItya: I wanna be a knight!
Cyrus, a knight: What the fuck do you want this shit for? I kill people, all right? Their blood is on my hands! Every night, when I go to sleep, I see their FUCKING faces staring at me! Their families weep, and I FEEL NOTHING! I’M DEAD INSIDE!
VItya: Man, I want some of that in my life!
VItya: I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. Someone asked me what the Spanish word for "tortilla" was once, and now I dream of kissing them under the moonlight.
Cyrus: What kind of animal is the Pink Panther?
VItya, already taking off their clothes: God, Cyrus, you’re so fucking stupid.
Cyrus: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why.
VItya: Only if you also don't ask why.
VItya: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag*
Cyrus: ...
Cyrus, grabbing a skull: This one will do.
Listen, I’m just gonna say this once: if you ship with me, you will eventually get art from me. This isn’t a threat—it’s a promise. I’m a hopeless romantic and an art gremlin, okay?? I need to see our beautiful babies together. Also, getting art is like crack to me. I’m not even ashamed. I need my fix. L M A F O. DO NOT JUDGE ME.
Trevor's just gonna poke Cy in the chest. For whatever reason, he just can't help but feel....amused? Entertained?
[ unprompted || always accepting ]
A heavy sigh slipped from his lips, his expression unmoving, carved from stone despite the growing familiarity of Trevor’s fixation. His gaze drifted downward as Trevor’s eyes lingered far too long on his chest—again. It wasn’t surprising anymore, not really. Then again, who could blame him? The hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt stretched taut with every breath.
