Come On To The Record Store

Name's Cobb. Cobbsie to mah' friends. Composer at Sonorous Inc. Owner of Rapture's finest record store. Sander Cohen's number one fan. Proprietor a' The Icarus Lounge. Country gentleman. Lover a' music. Master a' kittens. (Indie & Multiverse BioShock RP)

[lookingforroleplayers]

Bioshock RP masterlist!

Reblog this post and add in the tags

your URL

if you’re a single muse or a multimuse

if they’re canon or an OC

your muse’s name, and from where they come from

EXAMPLE: scrunklyrpblog, single muse, canon, Scrunkly the Mighty ( pokemon mystery dungeon )

to be added in the list!

NOTE: if you have a multimuse blog, feel free to write as many muses as you have; if you have a fandomless OC, specificy that you just have a specific verse or their “title” – and remember to reblog the fandomless masterlist too!

feel free to specify if your muse is canon divergent too!

Character list in alphabetical order can be found HERE!

[mahkittens]

Okay I did it. I updated everything. New OOC page. Edited verses. I’ll add a Red Dead/Cowboy one soon. Waaaay shorter headcanon page is up, too.

Still working on figure out what HTML is in this our year of 2022. Oh, and I changed my name. Hi? I guess?

[jettbian]

Visit Original Link

[mahkittens]

Holy shit, I remembered my password.

[hector-goddamn-rodriguez]

Real life has been kicking my ass & I haven’t had the motivation to touch my blogs in a few weeks. First and foremost, my family is moving to a different state next week. It’s the first time we’ll be more than 10 minutes apart from each other, and it’s been a lot to deal with. I also have a demanding day job and a dozen other weekly commitments that I’ve been struggling to keep up with. Anything creative, especially RPing, has just fallen lower and lower on my list. 

I think I owe virtually all my partners here and on @rapturerecordssilas. I’m hoping to bang some replies out this weekend, as I’ll be babysitting all day Saturday and Sunday. No promises, but I do promise that I want to write with y’all. It’s just gonna be slow going for a while. I really appreciate your patience in the meantime.

On a more positive note, I’ll be at NYCC tomorrow and Friday. If you’re going, let me know!

[jameshathaways]

[mahkittens]

wild-lavender-bunny‌:

Deeply entrenched in another fucking rewrite, Sander misses the initial click of the lock.Silas is nearly in the room before Cohen looks up, a snappy comment about the meaning of a locked door is on his lips, but the sight of the rose stops him. Anger quickly turns to confusion and then surprise.

“Oh.”

Sander stands and makes his way over to the disciple. Delicately, he takes the rose from Silas’s hands.

“It’s lovely. Thank you,” The artist says with a smile – a real one, not the sharp edged expression he wears for the public. These days, it seems to be a look reserved for Silas alone. The artist is still stressed, still tired but the gift seems to have lightened the weight some. An arm wraps around the disciple’s waist, pulling him close so Sander can thank him again with a kiss.

Silas takes that kiss happily, humming into it as it deepens naturally. His arm finds its way around Cohen’s middle, and he’s tempted to lift the man up before the press breaks. Cohen’s feet stay firmly on the ground, however, as the disciple pulls back with a grin.

“Yer welcome.”

Mission accomplished, he thinks, basking in the light of the other’s smile. It warms him from head to toe, and gives him the courage he needs to be particularly bold.

“I wanna take you out.” It’s not a question or offer. There’s no room for rejection before Silas adds, “Maybe tuh’ lunch. Or dinner. Hell, tuh’ both. I don’t care. Tell me where you wanna go.”

He takes a step towards Cohen’s desk, eyeing the scattered papers littering it, all marked up in bright red. He tsks, knowing just what kind of hell the artist must be putting himself through--and likely for no reason at all.

“Looks like you need a break, anyway.”

[mahkittens]

uncovereliminate‌:

“I did not ask you to ‘teach him a lesson’…”  Andrew said,  leaning in dangerously close to the man as he backed away from him,  his eyes squinting as he tried to read what was on his name-card  “Mackensie.”  he sneered  “I told you to lock him away, not to murder him.”

He gave them a stern look as they pretty much ran off,  getting down to a crouch with a soft groan  (his knees creaking in protest).  He was getting old.

Andrew took out his handkerchief and offered it to Silas  “Can you clean yourself up or do you need help?”  he questioned,  awaiting an answer as he considered the idea of gently wiping the blood off of Silas’ face.

“I didn’t mean for you to come to harm –”  not physically,  at least.  Sander would kill him.

It takes Silas a moment to muster the breath to speak. When he does, his words only carry traces of their usual venom, “I don’t need yer help.”

Still, he accepts the handkerchief. The disciple crushes it against his nose in attempt to stop the bleeding. It doesn’t ebb, instead seeping through the cloth in a matter of seconds. He sniffs, and immediately regrets it, as he drops the soiled square to the ground.

“...Shit.”

Finally, he summons the strength to pick himself up. He’s a little wobbly as he gets to his feet, bracing a palm to the interior cell wall, but Cobb does manage to stand. A few, careful steps take him over to the cot he’s been unable to sleep in, and he takes a heavy seat on the edge of the mattress. Even under his lean weight, the old, metal bedframe whines in protest.

“What are you doin’ here, anyway?” He asks without meeting Andrew’s eyes. Instead, his gaze stays fixed to a spot on the floor beside the man’s shoes. “What do you want?”

[mahkittens]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

Are you named after anyone?

I named myself after Johnny Depp’s character in Chocolat. My birth name isn’t after anyone in particular--it’s just a name my mom really liked & my parents could agree on.

When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday while I was doing some journaling. Introspection is tough. 

Do you have kids?

Not yet!

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not nearly as much as I used to. I do enjoy nice, dry humor, though. 

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Legs, eyes, and hair style. 

What’s your eye color?

Brown.

Scary movie or happy ending?

SCARY.

Any special talents?

I’m a singer and a writer. I’ve always had a knack for the performing arts, and I know like 3 magic card tricks. 

Where were you born?

Bronx, New York.

What are your hobbies?

RPing is numero uno. Aside from that, I play video games, I keep journals, I penpal, I used to read a lot of comics, and I play the piano. Some geetar, too. I’m also signed up for a creative writing class this fall, and I’m planning to start facilitating a support group at my local LGBT Pride Center.

Do you have any pets?

A cat named Artemis. My dog, Beau, lives at my parents’ house.

What sports do you play/have played?

I took a few fencing classes in high school. Never really committed to it, though. I’d love to learn again as an adult.

How tall are you?

5′5 even.

Dream job?

Musician.

Favorite subject at school?

English- specifically Writing and Comp. 

Tagged by: @seancesayshello (thank you dear <3) 

Tagging: @wild-lavender-bunny, @uncovereliminate, @tatemerlot, @graveweeping, @rapturcd, @mutterliebe, @chainslost, @adaminfused, @andinked, @lotuskissed + anybody who wants to share! I love learning about y’all. 

[mahkittens]

@wild-lavender-bunny asked for a CUTE starter (accepting)

There’s a certain spring in the disciple’s step as he makes his way to the Fleet Hall. He’s even humming as he walks, one hand dipped into his pocket as the other cradles a present for the artist--a single rose, wrapped delicately in gold foil. The southerner had bought it on an impulse, having passed by a cart of flowers for sale on his cigarette break. There was something particularly lush about it--velvety red petals in full bloom, miles deep under the ocean. It reminded him of Cohen’s ruby lips. Four dollars made it his to have, to hold, and to give to his favorite artist.

He hoped more than anything that it would make Sander smile.

Cobb exchanges hellos with a few familiar faces on his way up to Cohen’s office. The door is locked shut, and so the disciple uses his spare key. He fully expects Sander to snap and assume he’s some nosy or incompetent stagehand. Before the artist has a chance, however, Silas makes a show of presenting his gift.

“Special delivery, sugar.”

[mahkittens]

@uncovereliminate asked for a VIOLENT starter (accepting) 

‘Again.’

The word prompts another fist to fly and crash against the side of his face. Silas spits with the impact, spattering blood across the grimy cell floor. His arms are aching as they’re pulled taut, nearly ripped from their sockets as Ryan’s men hold him in place. They needn’t try so hard--the southerner hasn’t the strength the struggle, nor the ADAM to pose any real threat. He’s merely their punching bag now, and the hits just keep coming.

That is, until they sudden stop.

Silas is only half-conscious, but he picks up on a few words. ‘Mr. Ryan--!’ stands out above the ringing in his ears. ‘We were just teachin’ him a lesson!’

In an instant, the southerner released and allowed to crumple over the floor. The disciple doubles-over, wheezing loudly as he tries to inflate his lungs beneath battered ribs. As he reels, black spots dotting his vision, a pair of polished wingtip loafers come into his line of sight.

It seems Andrew Ryan has come to pay him a visit.

[sphinxmemesmusings]

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[mahkittens]

seancesayshello‌:

                   “He-…” Klaus stretched his neck, sighing as he tried to remember the way that the spirit had looked. The tears, the bruising at the neck, the signature pallor of the dead.. He couldn’t exactly be truthful. He looked like a fucking mess, sobbing and choking, with his broken neck and wild eyes. No. He couldn’t tell this man just how much of a mess this Billy had been. Even he had trouble looking at the dead and he saw them all the time. 

“He said that he was scared, that he couldn’t move to the city with you because he was afraid, and once you were gone, he.. he couldn’t take it. He said he didn’t mean to hang himself, he was just terrified.. He’s sorry for leaving, for abandoning you. “ He mumbled, lowering his eyes. “He.. was crying. He was desperate to get his message across.. Look, ghosts never look good. But he didn’t look nearly as bad as most I’ve seen! And-.. and once I told you, he was able to leave. His unfinished business.. it’s done. He’s able to rest..” 

Klaus sat down slowly, smiling weakly, “I mean I can always reach out to him, though. It’s just, now he doesn’t have to linger in his pain.”

Silas is silent as he takes this all in. The average person might shrug it off as far-fetched, superstitious rambling. Or, too likely a side-effect of some hapless addict’s vice. But a man--or maybe a thing--like Cobb accepts it unquestioningly, at every word. He lowers to sit, too, folding his legs atop the pavement. 

“Okay.”

His tears dry up as he digs frustratedly into the pocket of his jeans, tearing a hole in the lining a little wider. A crumpled, near emptied pack of cigarettes is produced, and Silas fishes out a smoke for himself. The stick is placed to his lips before he offers what’s left to Klaus--a gesture of thanks in his small, stoic way.

“So you can talk tuh’ dead people.” He says this slowly, and more to himself than to Klaus. Without thought, the southerner snaps his fingers to produce a small flame, igniting the very tips of his fingers. His hand lifts to the cigarette, lighting it in preparation for a deep first pull. As he waves the fire out with a flick of his wrist, smoke curls up in a thin, silvery rope around his head.

“What else can you do?”

[mahkittens]

seancesayshello‌:

                    Klaus’ heart was pounding, and he was starting to regret being sober. Weird shits happened when he was sober. Well, he’d smoked a joint a few hours ago, but clearly that wasn’t fucking working. So much for trying to get clean and get himself a boy to love on. 

“I-.. Uh..” He watched as the ghost vanished, most likely because it had accomplished its unfinished business. Klaus knew that a lot of the ghosts he saw needed his help in finishing something they had left behind, but most of the time, they would aggressively shout at him about it! Or they would.. They would just have ridiculous expectations. This one had been simple. 

He kind of felt guilty as he watched the musician’s eyes water, biting his lip and rubbing the back of his head. Damnit. “Yeah, I-.. I can talk to dead people.” He mumbled, kind of shocked that this dude believed that without him having to say it and look absolutely crazy. “I saw him, he was behind you, he-.. He asked me to tell you that stuff.”

Silas sets his jaw to stave crying. The tears do keep coming, a few escaping in turn, but he does well to keep them quiet. His eyes avert to the ground, his fists curling more tightly closed as he stares for a moment at his own feet. His palms begin to sting as his nails sink deeply into his skin. He eventually unfurls them with a long, shaking sigh.

“Is that....all he said?”

The southerner sniffs, and swipes again at his nose. Despite the hurt and anger singeing him, he feels some semblance of relief. To share this pain that Billy left behind with someone, even this eccentric stranger, is a weight off his tired shoulders. 

“And you saw him?” He asks before his first question can be answered. The idea that Billy had been there beside him, however imperceptibly, breaks Silas’ entire heart. What he’d give to see that boy’s face again--to look him in those big, blue eyes one last time. Cobb’s lip twitches with grief.

“....How’d he look?”. 

[mahkittens]

wild-lavender-bunny‌:

A low, guttural groan escapes with that first touch of Sander’s tongue. Silas can’t quite hold himself upright, and his body falls back against the wall of the closet. His thighs are trembling as they’re kissed--marked--and they tense completely as his cock is teased by the wet warmth of Sander’s mouth. With his head tipped back, Cobb utters a slew of curses that stop making sense halfway through.

“Jesus Christ,” is the last one to slip out before his hand finds its way into Cohen’s hair. His fingers anchor themselves deep in the other’s thinning, ebony locks. He doesn’t need the invitation to push his hips forward, forcing himself between Sander’s lips until he’s completely buried in the man’s mouth. Pleasure engulfs him, and urges him to thrust again, and again, until he’s settled into a selfish rhythm. He can feel sweat dotting along his spine, sticking the last of his clothes to his heated skin.

“Ohhhh, sugar.”

With a single grunt between heavy breaths, Silas tugs harshly at Sander’s hair. Diligently, he guides the man’s head over the length of his cock. It’s an instruction--a demand for more. His grip eventually slackens, but remains as he continues to steal every ounce of ecstasy he can for himself.

[mahkittens]

wild-lavender-bunny‌:

Sander hesitates, just for moment. Even now, he considers fleeing from the damage he’s done, as if it will cease to exist when he leaves. The thought of leaving Silas alone again is the only thing that keeps him in place.

“I’ll stay,” He says, tone uncharacteristically gentle as he sits on the edge of the bed. Each second of silence is agonizing and Sander struggles not to fill them with a string of excuses as he undresses down to his shirt and pants.

Sliding into the bed next to Silas, the artist finally caves. He draws the disciple against his chest, arms wrapped around him protectively, as if even here the darkness of Persephone is still a threat. As if he can make up for not being there when it was.

“I’m so sorry.” 

Silas doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he pins an ear against the artist’s chest in search of his heartbeat. The strong, steady rhythm is instantly soothing, like his own, personal lullaby. The disciple even smiles a bit with the comfort, and taps two fingers in tandem with the beat against Cohen’s side.

“It’s okay,” he offers, however distractedly, as the heaviness of sleep finds him faster than he’d expected. A wide yawn cracks his jaw audibly. Silas grumbles low, and adjusts his weight over the mattress. Cohen’s scent--spicy and warm--wraps around him in turn. He hopes more than anything that it’ll linger on his pillows for days to come.

“Yere here now,” tired eyes peer up at the artist, “That’s what matters.”

As sweet as the sentiment may be, there’s an edge to it. A challenge. Cobb is giving Sander an opportunity to admit what took him so goodamn long. 

Lanky arms wrap a little more tightly around the artist’s middle. 

[mahkittens]

seancesayshello‌:

@rapturerecordssilas starter (snuggles)

                  Klaus was needy. Like, seriously needy. He was considering cuddling a lamppost at this point. And he probably would’ve, if he hadn’t heard the familiar soft music of.. Silas! 

Klaus’ head snapped toward the sound and he hurried to it. The conjurer pushed aside anyone that got in his way and grabbed the guitar out of Silas’ hands, ignoring any reaction as he sat in his lap and hugged the absolute shit out of him. He pressed him to his chest, buried his face into the other’s neck, and clung.

God, he clung. And his eyes stung. 

“What in the--?!”

In an instant, he’s robbed of his guitar and his bodily autonomy. Silas hasn’t the time to protest, however, or even make sense of the situation before Klaus is in his arms. There’s no use in being angry, either. The man is so thin, so frail, that Silas hasn’t the gall to shove him away. Instead, long limbs wrap softly around the other. He cradles Klaus for a minute, giving him space to breathe. 

“Klaus....?” The southerner eventually prods, nudging the man gently, “What’s goin’ on, sugar?”

People passing by offer curious glances. Some err more on the side of judgement. Silas cocks a brow in challenge, prompting them to move right along.

“Did somethin’ happen tuh’ you?” The way he’s clinging--it feels like Billy all over again.

“Talk tuh’ me.”