fuckboys | ( oh darling, you're a million ways to be cruel )

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( oh darling, you're a million ways to be cruel )

a variation on the “you and your friend make two ocs without telling each other, they are now dating” game that is at least 50x better:

get a group of friends together, at least 4, preferably closer to 7, have all of them create an OC without telling anyone

congratulations, they’ve all just met at a tavern and have been thrown into a rag-tag RPG party group who has to go on a long-winded fated mission to save the world

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i used to be a selkie,

selkie. old as dirt. can't speak, can only sing. came out of the water one day and started singing, when a passing talent agent heard her voice and offered her a singing contract. little did she know the agency he worked for was actually a clusterfuck of evil doers and demons, and in signing the contract, she also signed her soul ( and pelt ) away to the devil.

fighting to get her skin back, as well as tearing down the evil cooperation she sings for. a huge revolutionary, but an even bigger nerd. has a bad habit of barking at people to get their attention.

named after the first word she learned, beanie. bean for short.

and now i'm a popstar.

Edited 2014-12-02 10:23 (UTC)

Quinn [REDACTED]. didn't your mother teach you not to ask a lady her age? witch turned street magician, because you can never be too careful these days. sought by both the light and dark to join their crusade; would rather spend her time wowing the masses and giving them a little magic to believe in. morally grey and plans to keep it that way. will spend the rest of her life keeping the scales even before she ever picks a side.

Edited 2014-12-02 10:10 (UTC)

IMAGINE THIS.
you're rich. filthy rich. born into a powerful family that rules over half of the land. people want your head, of course, but come on, who's going to kill a prince? and not just a prince, the prince. prince of the kingdoms, prince of the people's hearts--okay, maybe not really that one. the whole world is at your fingertips.

the problem is that revolutionaries would love to kill a prince.

so your father gets killed, the regime suffers from a putsch, and you escape with your life. now you're learning how to be poor, trying to get back home to meet up with your old guards, and most of all, trying to grapple with the idea of making your way without a title or any money to back you up on. magic? sure, you know a little. self defense? maybe a tiny bit. otherwise, being so sheltered has been a blessing, but it's about to be a curse.

your name's alexander harroway and

Edited (EDITS TWENTY TIMES) 2014-12-02 18:30 (UTC)

we're bulletproof until we bleed out.Shea Lane. The lost son of a dying breed. Taken from his pack at a young age to be used as an attack dog - but attack dogs are usually more obedient when they can actually be broken, when they're not so prone to escape.

With no idea of who or where his pack is, he's got no real choice but to go it alone. Maybe it's easier that way, because then he won't be dragging other people into the belly of the beast when it decides to bring him back in. Problem is, he's ridiculously bad at being a lone wolf and just as bad at staying neutral.

Cross a soft-hearted vigilante with a jaded cage fighter, put them on the run from a megalomaniacal supernatural regime out to control everything, earn yourself a faoladh.

Edited 2014-12-02 18:36 (UTC)

( except when they're all trying to hide from demons )

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