In character information ~
- Desired character?: Master Marcus Peters
- Face claim if original character?: n/a
- Background of character & personality?:
Marcus came from a family whose mother was constantly being belittled and abused by his drunkard father. To the blind eye, his family was quaint, but that was only because he denied any accusations people made. He got used to hiding his true emotions and masking them with a thick layer of malice. Most assumed that Marcus would learn from his father’s mistakes and be the better man. Marcus also believed that, until his mother called the cops on him after he murdered his father. It was the last time he ever stuck his neck out for anyone. He figured since he was now a master at the manor and in charge, he would rarely face disappointment. If his slave ever disappointed him, he’d resort to violence. It was simple, really. He had had enough disappointment in his life, both being the cause and the victim. If you disappointed him, you’d pay the consequences. He mainly spends his time locked up in his room with his slave. He keeps to himself, for the most part. If you cross him, he may not even fight back if he thinks you’re not worth his time or energy.
Character kinks?: bondage, dominance, filming.
- Character ships? (Bold one to two OTPs to be considered for endgame): Marcus/Hannah (OTP), Marcus/anyone really
- In character para to multi para sample:
marion let one foot pass through the double doors of jasper’s house, expecting her skin to burn once it was met with the same air the devil himself breathed. as she allowed her whole body enter the house, the maid shut the door behind her. she suddenly felt claustrophobic, even though the door was still unlocked. she hadn’t seen jasper in exactly two weeks, which had given her just enough time to go completely mad and ponder creative ways to kill him, because she was much too unique to just shoot him in the head. she knew, more than anyone, just how much jasper had made her suffer since the day the two of them met in the tenth grade, and she had both loved and hated him since. he had broken her heart, threatened to expose naked photos of her to his friends, accused her of cheating when she had been raped, left her for a year, and when they finally met once again, he told her he loved her. and marion, being an immaculate sucker for love, gave in to him and had sex with him again, only to be alone in the morning. two weeks later, she was back. standing in his foyer. but not for an apology, nor for forgiveness, for she had nothing to be forgiven for. she came for vengeance, as cheesy as it sounded. no, she wouldn’t kill him. she loved freedom too much and prison suits didn’t clash with her skin tone very well. she would, however, do whatever it took to ruin him, as long as it was legal. unfortunately for her, all the ideas that came to mind in that moment were not only illegal, but quite grotesque.
she slowly traced the tile in the foyer and placed one foot in front of the other, toe heel toe heel. she was in stilettos of course. stilettos and a tight fitting black dress. first step to making a man suffer. give a boner you refuse to suppress. she’d let the bitch rub it out for three hours, which was the perfect amount of time for him to realize just how lonely he was going to be when she was gone. he may have money and he may have call girls, but no one could ever measure up to the dastardly, yet beautiful relationship the two of them shared. marion stopped in her tracks when her toe hit the carpet of the living room. she looked up from her shoes and placed her gaze upon the suited-up body of her ex-lover, smoking dope, of course. he took a long drag before peering around the edge of the arm chair and acknowledging marion’s presence. he didn’t seem the least bit surprised that she had showed up, then again, it might have just been the weed thinking for him. he probably thought she had come expecting an apology. she knew he wasn’t going to apologize. maybe he’d tell her he loved her again. how sweet, but she didn’t need to hear it twice. she knew it was a lie anyway, and it wouldn’t sound any better the second time.
marion ended the glare and paced herself as she walked closer to the chair. she pivoted until she was standing in front of him, a couple short feet away. she peered down at the man she once loved with much more scorn than she had before. she thought she couldn’t be any more angry when he left that night a couple weeks earlier, but now that she was glaring into the endless black eyes of the man that had broken her heart so many times before, she was more furious than ever before. although she maintained the softened structure of her face, jasper was known to be very good at reading people’s emotions. he knew exactly what she was thinking and how she felt. he could see straight into marion’s soul, and she hated it. she wasn’t about to speak. she needed to collect her emotions. that, and she’d much rather like to hear what cleverly nonchalant line he’d come up with this time just so that she’d have something to shoot back at. if she began speaking first, he’d have the last laugh. and tonight was not the night to feel embarrassed, it was the night to feel empowered. if jasper didn’t know how much he had fucked up in the two years of their relationship, she was going to fucking show him.
Out of character information ~
- Role player’s name?: Maggie
- Role player’s age (sixteen plus due to mature themes)?: 16, almost 17! Wow, perfect…
- Role player’s timezone?: Pacific GMT-8
- Role player’s activity level? (ten being the highest): 8-9
- Did you make sure to read the rules?: Of course! Just keep swimming~ c:
a-poop-lo and my-raisin
His gaze drifted around the room a moment, his teeth carefully nibbling at the insides of his lips. Marion was quiet, too quiet for his taste, as she rested her head softly against the frame of the door. She seemed reluctant to step in any further than she already had — her bottom lip was trembling oh so slightly and her body leaning out the door instead of in.
Thick brown brows knitted tightly together as he watched her drag her feet to the bed as though her petite limbs were filled with concrete. Shades of sickness flashed vigorously across her face as she seated herself on the edge of the guest bed, her weight anchoring down the sheets, forcing them to fold upon each other and crease. It looked awful from where he was sitting. Averting his attention from the bed, he lifted his chin up and rested his eyes back on her. Hesitance was clear in her posture, in her face, in her eyes.
She looked apprehensive, direful, dismal …
He could tell it was coming, though what was coming was the true question. A flurry of conclusions to her sudden mood was beginning to erupt inside his mind. He didn’t ponder or fabricate anything more because he knew it would only cause anxiety and he was too high for that right now. He swallowed quietly, making a small gesture for her to speak while offering a tiny smile. Lowering himself down to the bed so that he was eye-level with her legs, he rested his head on her knee and looked up at her. Her lips parted for a second — silence. He held his breath, waiting for her to spill already. And then she did.
Pregnant.
Oh.
Marion looked down to him, worried and frightened. He gently kissed her thigh and pulled her hands into his, holding them tight enough hoping he could reassure her. He proceeded to plant little kisses on her hands, while quietly mumbling a response to her. “Children are lovely. You’d be a great mother, but of course you know that. What are you afraid of?” He could of guessed what she was afraid of, but he wanted to hear her say it.
Marion slumped her shoulders as Apollo slid off the bed. He kissed her thigh tenderly, causing tears that she had been holding back to fall. She looked up to meet his eyes as he grabbed her hands. What are you afraid of? Being deserted, being belittled, being chastised. Any other day, any other thing. Marion wouldn’t expect Jasper to react that way. But this was much more serious that any other obstacle they’ve had to conquer. This was pregnancy. This was having a child, raising a child. If Marion knew anything about Jasper, it was that he hated kids. Kids were a nuisance and there was no way you could convince him otherwise.
Marion didn’t want to say it out loud, partially because Apollo probably already knew. She looked out the door and down to the light at the end of the hall. Jasper had been closed up in his office and enveloped by his work all week. How could he raise a child properly when he so consumed by his work? He wouldn’t. He’d leave her. Though the both of them were so emotionally devoted to their relationship, Jasper had a knack for emotionally detaching himself from any problem in his life and acting as if he was completely unaffected by it. Marion turned back to her step-brother and looked him square in the eyes, her tears falling freely now. ”I don’t know what to do.” she stated hopelessly.
She would have to tell Jasper sooner or later, or he’d question her weight gain, which unfortunately, had already begun to show. She was so scared of Jasper leaving her and never seeing him again. She couldn’t raise this child on her own, and even if she weren’t pregnant, she couldn’t stand the sight of him walking out the door again. At this point, she had no one else to confide in. The only two people she had conversed with in the past week were Jasper (hardly) and Apollo. She hugged Apollo close and sobbed into his shoulder. “Help me.”
(Source: marebearsinclair)
a-poop-lo and my-raisin
Wedding was coming up soon.
Something he had been looking forward to, or the only thing he had been looking forward to besides the fact that one of his favorite dealers had moved out here and he could get some quality weed from him. He felt slightly awkward staying with his sister and her boyfriend, especially when he would wake up to get a cup of tea and he would run into Jasper. There was no small talk, Jasper was not a fan of that according to Marion, therefore he steered directly clear of that. Instead there were awkward stares and small grunts of obvious uncomfort for the situation. He had no problem with Jazz, but he could tell Jasper was not fond of him. Probably because he continued to turn down the black coffee Jasper offered to him.
Polo didn’t drink coffee.
Polo hated coffee.
Though he was sure there were other reasons. Like eating the majority of the food they had stored in their over-sized kitchen. Marion didn’t mind it, but when Jasper realized there were no bagels left he would immediately shoot a look of discontent at him and begrudgingly walk away after stiffly saying “Fine.”. Apollo found this is behavior very amusing, because he had never quite met a person like Jasper. But he didn’t dabble too much into Jasper’s mind, it would annoy Jasper and furthermore upset his sister. Sighing softly, he could hear the distant sound of jazz music. Marion wasn’t all that into that type of music, meaning Jasper was. Slightly predictable, but respectable as well. He enjoyed listening to the soothing sounds of the instruments meshing together, it was relaxing to say the least. A light creak in the direction of his door roused him from his thoughts, making him immediately peek up from his pillow to see who was coming in. A weak voice arose in the air, giving away who it was. He lifted his head to get a better look at her.
His body language was blase, though his eyes showed worry.
Nodding once to her, he motioned for her to come sit on the bed. Sitting up to face her, he smiled and spoke. “What’s up?”
marion let her head rest on the door frame as she waited for her brother to respond. she wasn’t sure as to why she wanted to speak to him, but perhaps if she told one person her secret, she wouldn’t feel so guilty for keeping it hidden. she tried to gulp down the knot in her throat, but was disappointed to find that her mouth had gone completely dry. she was nervous to tell her brother? someone who could obviously care less about people’s imperfections? she wanted to scream, cry, rip out her hair. she was so frustrated with not only the situation she had gotten herself into, but also with herself for being too much of a coward to even tell her boyfriend. a morsel of her moral standing was to be salvaged tonight. at least she had built up enough courage to get her secret off her chest. but her problem wasn’t telling someone, it was telling the wrong someone. she had already told evan and louise. and now she was about to tell apollo. she was simply adding to the long list of people who couldn’t care less and dreading the confrontation of the one person that might actually give a damn. but pessimism had always been a part of marion’s personality, so making herself believe that jasper would leave her if he found out was completely in her nature. or perhaps it was the many times he had left her before. she was merely saving herself from the pain that she simply couldn’t handle anymore. she’d had her fair share of broken hearts, and to be completely honest, this whole pregnancy wasn’t exactly a “break out the champagne and celebrate” type of situation. she wouldn’t even be able to drink the champagne even if it was…
marion practically had to drag herself over to the bed, a mixture of fatigue and depression washing over her at a rapid pace. she sat at the edge of the bed and, after a few seconds of contemplating her doom, she looked up to see her brother with a questioning look in his eyes.
come on, marion. just rip off the band-aid. this isn’t even your boyfriend. you can worry about telling jasper later. this is your brother. he won’t care. he loves you. he’ll always love you. when everyone leaves, he’ll still be here. he’s seen you in your darkest state, and he still cares about you. he makes you laugh when you cry. you’ve seen him cry. granted he was stoned out of his mind and believed he had discovered the meaning of life, but still. when those photos of you got leaked, he destroyed them. because he’s your brother. he’s supposed to protect you. that’s what they do. tell him. now.
marion opened her mouth, and for a few seconds, said nothing. but soon she realized that her thoughts were really all she had left, so she obeyed them. “i’m pregnant.”
(Source: marebearsinclair)
a-poop-lo and my-raisin
Trying to take a nap was nearly impossible these days. Not just because of her frequent stomach aches, but because keeping a secret as big as hers wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. She rolled over and clutched the pillow beside her, cozying up to the cold fabric as it formed goose bumps on her skin. She was laying in nothing but a sheer corset by Christian Dior. Although it seemed strange to be wearing the set on such an ordinary night like tonight, she had actually been planning to get some kind of reaction out of Jasper. She bought it just for him. Well… obviously. Who else would she have bought it for? But to her amazement, she had begun to realize that she wasn’t so much drained of Jasper’s attention, but that she was simply afraid of when that day would come. Soon, she’d be a blimp. It’d be nine long months before she could fit into a corset as tiny as this. And she could kiss her French stockings goodbye. Being pregnant was much more complicated than people make it seem. You have to maintain your weight by exercising, but then you are told to gain 20-30 pounds to supply the demon with nutrients. How is that even possible? She sighed, shifting back into a spread eagle position on her pale ivory comforter. She glared at the ceiling for roughly five minutes, listening to the slow slurs of jazz music emanating from Jasper’s office. And amidst the soothing music, she couldn’t help but be even antsier than she had been five minutes earlier. Finally, she got up and threw on her favorite fluffy, white robe and quietly sauntered across the hall towards the guest room. Apollo had been staying there for two days now, and she had no doubt in her mind that he had most likely already made himself at home. She cracked the door open, being sure not to wake him if he was indeed sleeping. It was only ten, but no one could ever calculate Apollo’s exact sleeping patterns. “Polo?” She whispered. Her brother turned towards her with a shockingly nonchalant, but concerned facial expression. She still wasn’t sure how he was able to portray opposite emotions, but this was Apollo. His actions could never be properly explained. “Can I talk to you?” She pressed.
jasperdelair replied to your post: hey hi hello
ciao, love. i’m perfectly content. you? oh, we’re in need of new counter tops. we chipped the last ones - rough sex was a little too rough that time. anything particular that you’ve been….wanting?oh my. why do i find that to be considerably arousing? oh well. we can pick out new ones out this weekend. preferably more durable ones. although i’m not sure what’s more durable than granite… i’m sure we’ll figure something out. and actually, there was something i wanted to talk to you about. are you free? it can wait if you’re busy.
the thought of rough sex is always considerably arousing. especially since it has to do with my touch, that’s exponentially arousing, dear.
clearly more durable, our last ones were awful. i’m sure we can find something suitable enough for our kitchen, and private pleasures.
yes…sure. what is it?
your expansive vocabulary adds to the effect, as well. private pleasures. i’m glad we can find a classy name for the dirtiest part of our daily schedule.
i’d much rather tell you in person, if that’s alright. it’s just not something i’m comfortable telling you on the computer. can you meet me in the west wing?
no truer words have been spoken, love. guilty pleasures, mm? dirty, classy…our sex needs no labels.
alright, understandable. right now?
if you’re available. it can always wait if you’re not.
ciao, love. i’m perfectly content. you? oh, we’re in need of new counter tops. we chipped the last ones - rough sex was a little too rough that time. anything particular that you’ve been….wanting?oh my. why do i find that to be considerably arousing? oh well. we can pick out new ones out this weekend. preferably more durable ones. although i’m not sure what’s more durable than granite… i’m sure we’ll figure something out. and actually, there was something i wanted to talk to you about. are you free? it can wait if you’re busy.
the thought of rough sex is always considerably arousing. especially since it has to do with my touch, that’s exponentially arousing, dear.
clearly more durable, our last ones were awful. i’m sure we can find something suitable enough for our kitchen, and private pleasures.
yes…sure. what is it?
your expansive vocabulary adds to the effect, as well. private pleasures. i’m glad we can find a classy name for the dirtiest part of our daily schedule.
i’d much rather tell you in person, if that’s alright. it’s just not something i’m comfortable telling you on the computer. can you meet me in the west wing?
jasperdelair replied to your post: hey hi hello
ciao, love. i’m perfectly content. you? oh, we’re in need of new counter tops. we chipped the last ones - rough sex was a little too rough that time. anything particular that you’ve been….wanting?
oh my. why do i find that to be considerably arousing? oh well. we can pick out new ones out this weekend. preferably more durable ones. although i’m not sure what’s more durable than granite… i’m sure we’ll figure something out. and actually, there was something i wanted to talk to you about. are you free? it can wait if you’re busy.
