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this is fuckin' awesome

Open RP Post

⊛ find a character you want to play with and respond to their thread. can't find who you want? let me know!
⊛ we can make up a scenario, adapt a meme of some sort, or... something else? whatever the fuck we want.
⊛ if you need ideas, the random scenario meme has just about anything you could want.
⊛ wanna do a picture prompt? we can do some picture prompts.
⊛ FUCK YEAH WE'RE TOTALLY ROLEPLAYING RIGHT NOW!!!

Handy-Dandy Quick Links:
Vanessa Cleveland ⊛ Catty Turner ⊛ Finnick Odair ⊛ Belle Beaumont ⊛ Chloe Saunders
Commander Shepard ⊛ Piper McLean ⊛ Jordan Langley ⊛ Jaime Lannister ⊛ Eli Keaton
Sally Malik ⊛ Corey Carling ⊛ Shadow ⊛ Fenris ⊛ Meetra Surik
Revan ⊛ Keiko Nakagawa ⊛ Alyss Heart ⊛ Ava ⊛ James
Percy Jackson ⊛ Frank Zhang ⊛ Helen ⊛ Jason Grace ⊛ David Levin
April O'Neil ⊛ Galen Marek ⊛ Reyna ⊛ Jackson Swift ⊛ Jaime Reyes
Fran Zhang (AU) ⊛ Jasa Grace (AU) ⊛ Piper McLean (AU) ⊛ Gretel ⊛ Sirius Black
Cullen ⊛ Liv Durand ⊛ Maddie Moss ⊛ Daniel Bianchi ⊛ Finley Odair (AU)
Persephone Jackson (AU) ⊛ Derek Hale ⊛ Raleigh Becket ⊛ Allison Argent ⊛ Liam Hunt
Seph McCauley ⊛ Jonah Kinlock ⊛ Edward Kenway ⊛ Aveline de Grandpre ⊛ Gale Hawthone
Will Scarlet ⊛ Korra ⊛ Carswell Thorne ⊛ Scarlet Benoit

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"The water's cold? You're cut half to pieces, and you're complaining about the fucking healing water? What the fuck's wrong with you?" The urge to keep touching her stirs in his gut, travels down to his fingers, but he grits his teeth and tosses the rag aside.

"Fine. But if you start to rot, you can be damn sure I'm not fucking looking after you."

That's a lie.

"What's wrong with me? You got me half exposed and on the floor while you're rubbing cold fucking water into my skin. Of course I'm going to complain." Because that's better than saying, hey by the way, the way you're touching me feels pretty damn good right about now.

She's rolling her eyes again. "If it's that important to you, just do it. I'll lie here, and you can nurse me back to health."

You've got me half exposed and on the floor...

It brings up an image that's a little different to the one she's displaying right now, and something spasms across his face. Irritation. Definitely irritation.

He should just say fuck it and leave her to it, but he doesn't. It's probably a sick urge, but whatever. No one is ever going to accuse the two of them of being normal. He reaches back over to grab the rag again. 'Like you wouldn't do the same fucking thing."

She watches him carefully, an eyebrow arching at the look that crosses his face. Whatever, he is just as immature as she is, and she's not even going to bother herself with trying to figure him out. Except maybe there's a part of her that's worried about him.

"I didn't say I wouldn't." Gretel's not much of a caregiver, but for her brother - for their mismatched family - she'd do it. She folds her arms behind her head, propping it up as she keeps her eyes on him. "I'm always going to take care of you. Why else are we in this position?"

He snorts, working his way up her torso. It requires more laces being undone, more skin revealed. She's so fucking pale, it's obscene. "Because we're a family of idiots, didn't we decide?"

The rag moves over the curve of her ribs, higher, cleaning her up and wiping away the cuts and scraps as he goes. He can feel his mouth going try, which is also stupid, because he's done this a thousand times before and--

Had about the same reaction. Sisters aren't supposed to be so damned attractive.

If anyone walked in on them right now, it would probably end up fucking awkward as shit. But, regardless of the fact that this is her brother, Gretel's beyond the point of caring. They've been together for so long, that it really doesn't even matter to her. All they have had, before the kid, before Edward, was just each other.

Her lips purse as she ignores the way his hands feel as they - and the rag, she supposes - move over her skin, a soothing relief spreading through her as the water does what it does best.

"We're a family that watches out for each other."

Her shirt has almost completely come apart. There are no more scratches, but the material's all torn to pieces. Technically, he doesn't need to undo the last of her laces for her, but his fingers hover anyway.

"I guess that's true." And he reaches up and strokes her hair back behind her ear, a light touch that most people wouldn't think characteristic of him.

Most people don't know him, though. Most people don't know them.

Her eyes close briefly for a moment, just letting herself be without all the damn problems that they face on a constant basis. It's nice, the way he touches her. It reminds her that he's still there, that they are.

They open again, and she stares down at the state of her shirt. Ripped, bloody, pretty fucking useless if you ask her. "I never liked the fucking thing anyway." She shifts again, leaning up on her elbows, the sides of her top just barely covering her.

"Am I all better, doctor?"

His gaze sweeps over her, and darkens as he takes in the sight of her. He's not the kind of guy that likes seeing a woman beat to hell and back, but the water has taken care of that. She's all smooth skin and faded scars now (and his sister, something reminds him).

She's filthy ad they're both fucking exhausted, and he's never seen anyone so beautiful. Not even Mina. "I'm not your fucking doctor. You tell me."

Gretel doesn't miss that, not the way he looks her over, not the way his gaze darkens. She manages to keep her breathing even, but there's a small thrill that runs through her. This is her brother, and she shouldn't enjoy something like that. Really, she shouldn't, but some morals were pointless, she's realized.

Resting on one elbow, she shoves her hand at his chest with a grunt. "I already fucking told you a thousand times now that I was fine. You're the one who wouldn't let shit be. And now I'm supposed to tell you if I'm okay? Are you going to even listen?"

Nothing changes in her manner, but he thinks he can pick it up anyway. How she reacts to him, the way he looks at her. You are so fucked up, a voice whispers in the back of his mind. He doesn't disagree; they both know that already.

He catches her wrist when she shoves at him, but his grip is light now. If they weren't siblings, maybe it'd be a caress. "If you tell me the truth, I'll listen."

"What makes you think I was lying before?" She shakes her head, loose tendrils of dark hair falling into her face as she does so. "I don't lie to you." Omit things, sure. Not tell the entire truth, definitely. But never outright lying. That would be pointless.

She tugs her arm lightly, not enough to actually break his hold, but enough to ask him to let her go.

"I didn't say you were lying, Gretel." At some point they've moved in closer; his breath ghosts across her cheek.

He could kiss her.

But she's tugging her arm, and he answers the wordless question by letting go, leaning back. Another moment, and he clambers off her. His shirt's a little wet from her blood still, but other than that it's fine. He strips it off, tossing it at her. "Here."

"You weren't listening to me before."

She almost wants him to kiss her, when he's close like that. There's a flutter of disappointment when he finally moves away from her. She climbs to her feet, taking his shirt from him and half turning so that she can pull her shirt off and lets it fall to the floor. But not before looking him over for a second. A little bruised up, but he looks...

With a frown, she tugs his shirt on.

He looks good. If that's the sort of thing that you're into.

"Thanks. I do have other clothes, though."

She's going to wear his shirt anyway.

He turns away when the shirt comes off, or at least pretends to. Or - well, he doesn't make it obvious that he's looking, all right? It's not like it's something he hasn't seen before, after all.

A smirk tugs at his mouth when he notices her looking back at him. He's not the only one, he's sure of that.

"I don't see you wearing them."

He's looking back, and maybe some people would be bothered by that. A lot of people, related or unrelated. Gretel? It doesn't feel that unusual, that strange.

Her own lips curl into a responding smirk before she can even think about it.

"I didn't see you handing them to me, either."

He raises his eyebrows back at her. "What, I see to your wounds and now you can't fucking dress yourself? If you don't like the shirt, take it off."

Please.

"You gave me the shirt, and I'm not fucking taking it off. So go fuck yourself. You should be worried about dressing yourself, not me."

Stupid brothers, she swears.

"Hey. Bite me," is his eloquent response. The pack with his spare shirt in it is - somewhere, he's not sure where. They made the kid unpack, because why take some barely pubescent boy along for ride and not use him for menial labour? But it means he's not sure where the fuck anything except the essentials are right now, so he just shrugs. "It's warm."

"Don't act like I won't." Whether it would be enjoyable or not is a thought she really shouldn't be having. She needs to get out more, see other people, not surround herself with her brother, a teenager, and a troll. Then again, she doesn't particularly care about being around other people.

"You mean, you're lazy." She plops down into a chair, tugging the rest of her hair out of its tie and running her fingers through it. "And don't want to actually look."

Hansel holds out his hands, like he's inviting her to try. Because he totally is.

And then he frowns, despite the fact that she's running her fingers through her and - well. It's nice hair. "I'm not fucking mean." He's not disputing the other too, though. At least, not right now. They killed the witch, they have some time alone, he's definitely going to be lazy while he's got the chance. And why would he look elsewhere when she's right there?

She pauses for a moment, considering it, before waving him off. The fight, the wound, it's all kind of made her feel a little exhausted. She'll just get him later.

"But you admit you're fucking lazy, then." Gretel grins at him as she pushes her hair back away from her face, but leaves it down for the moment. "You're not mean." There's another short pause as she looks him over. "Overenthusiastic, that's what you are."

"I'm fucking lazy right now," he corrects, dropping down next to her. His knees are drawn up, arms draped over them. "And great, thanks. Now I'm a puppy."

For someone bitching about being a dog, her brother sure is acting like one. Which is partly why she drops her hand to the top of his head, brushing her fingers through his hair. "You said it, not me."

Hansel pushes her hand away. Even if the sensation is kind of nice, he's still not a fucking dog. "Gretel, shut up."

He's all eloquence, this one.

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