A Prompt RP for Anyone at Anytime

The binds that held his wrists and his ankles together were made of rope, and judging by the blue shine on the rope, the scientist had been smart enough to coat it with a substance called estherketerol, which had chemical properties that restricted the abilities of him and other people like him. However, while the scientist had recognized that 73’s powers were unmatched, he obviously still underestimated 73. He had developed his telekinesis around the estherketerol and had been doing so for a long time, which many of the older scientists knew about. This scientist had only seen him briefly and apparently didn’t know what he was capable of.

The liquid the scientist injected in his arm has drained a lot of his energy, but he summoned all of the energy he had left to untie the rope that bound his feet and his hands with his mind. Sweat dripped down his forehead by the time he’d done it and he was breathing hard, but he was mostly elated that he’d succeeded. His back was still bound to the back of the chair by the glue-like substance, but he quickly evaded that by taking off his shirt. He got to his feet, then shuffled out the door.

The hall was dark when he first stepped out into it, but the lights quickly came on and his eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden change of brightness. He stumbled down the closest turn, his hand on the wall for support as he moved along. He walked for a while more, taking turns at random and hoping to end up where he wanted to. This facility was significantly smaller than the one a few day’s walk away which he had pretty much grown up in, but it was unfamiliar territory, so it might as well have been as big as the other facility.

He ended up in a large hall that was similar to the aisles of a grocery store. There were rows and rows of cubic glass squares, about 10 rows of 5 cubes each, all with the blue shine of estherketerol painted over them. In the squares there were people of all ages, all clad in the typical shapeless brown tops and pants that were standard to the project. None of them looked at him as he entered the residential area of the facility, which just confirmed that the glass was the kind he’d grown up in, you can see in but they can’t see out. This was why he’d grown up and never knew who had been in the room next to him. If there was anyone in the room.

He knew that the scientist had probably noticed he’d escaped and he didn’t have much time left to act. On the right wall, there was a large latch that he figured he had no reason not to pull. So he did, and all the doors to the glass rooms opened simultaneously. The range of the abilities of all the people in this area was vast and unknowable to him, but he bet that he could use them all to help them escape.

Some of the patients stumbled out of the glass rooms, eyes wide and mouth gaping, but most of the patients remained in the rooms. He couldn’t really blame them, they’d been through a lot and they weren’t easy to trust. They probably just thought this was another trick, to get them to slip up. It would be hard for him to convince the majority of the patients that he wouldn’t hurt them, especially since he has more chance of being found the longer he stays in one place.

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alskdkdj someone respond I actually like this one a lot :sob:

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this is so cool! I can’t believe I’ve been neglecting this thread :sob: I have an idea, but I’ll reply tomorrow since I’m tired

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Prompt Eight

Paris, 1934. Detective Beaumont follows his suspect, Forestier, who is wearing a long trench coat and fedora that is dipped low over his face. Beaumont suspects Forestier to be infamous “rose murderer” but has little proof to go on. The Rose Murderer always leaves the petals of rare rose variety, 'Farewell, over his victims’ eyes and under their heads like a pillow. The rose can only be bought in one shop in Paris, and if Forestier walks to that shop today, it is almost certain he is the murderer.
Indeed, the suspect’s ways lead him to the flower shop in question. Although he did come out again. An hour passed and still no sign. Three more had entered and three had left. Yet, no Forestier. Beaumont realised he had been given the slip. Time to find out what happened, so the detective entered the flower shop.

@fraud, @wanderingechoes, @L.C.R, @CerealKiller, @Tellyg47, @Nil, @eclipseis, @euphoriaa, @Littlefeets, @Aesthetic_epyy, @BlueInferno, @Yomama, @AS007, @Hanna1, @sunflower.flow, @ChaoticDeluge, @ForeverAngel, @TL_DR, @BlueInferno, @Skyler2, @LTea, @Sylas_Breik57, @unsungcheerio, @BlondeGlassesGirl, @Wingsoffire, @Eccentric, @Dying_Dreams, @Mouschi, @Quinn32, @OhSumana, @passionfruit, and @idiot.exe

Sorry, guys, had to continue on since it’s been over two weeks, but you’re more than welcome to continue this on another thread if you want to or take it somewhere else. I don’t mind.

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Ahhh… I really want to respond to this one But I have 2-3 drastically different scenes playing out in my head and I can’t decide which way to type it…whyyyyy must it be drastically different thoughts…?

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Grab a dice and roll one to decide which to use?

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Forestier knew he was being followed. The individual following him was none other than Detective Beaumont, the man he had been watching for weeks. Inside the shop he waited, knowing the detective would eventually enter. An hour he waited as three people entered and exited the shop. A part of Forestier had begun to question if the detective had left, though Forestier knew better than anyone that the detective couldn’t stay away forever. Forestier’s knowledge of the detective proved correct as he finally entered the shop. Finally tilting his fedora above his eyes, Forestier looked to the man he had known since childhood. “Decided to stop and smell the roses?” Forestier said in a nonchalant manner. He was certain that the detective’s true colors would come to light, even if one of them would not get to leave the flower shop. “I know why you’re here. Do you?”

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#roleplays tag added!

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Detective Beaumont pushed open the shop door, that had been left partially ajar after the last customer exited it. As the door opened, it creaked quietly. Not ideal for a shop, he thought. Once Beaumont was inside the shop, he sets his eyes upon fedora-wearing mop of ginger hair; the man he had been hunting for weeks. Forestier. When Forestier said that he knew why he was here but asked if he knew himself, Beaumont had to think. He just stared and Forestier stared back. Finally, after what felt like minutes, Beaumont answered with a question, “What is it that you think I’m here for, Matthew?” He was clear to slowly use and pronounce his first name clearly.

C’mon, @RPers, I’d love to see more than one to two people writing on these prompts.

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The store manager Bartholomew Laurens refrained from interfering with the exchange. He was aware of the supposed serial killer walking amongst them, and did little as look at the two.
Detective Beaumont was an intimidating guy who constantly lurked in the shadows. You never saw him coming.
Forestier was the same. Sly and mysterious. He came into the shop every week or so, but Bartholomew never questioned it.
Bartholomew looked down behind the counter taking quick glances at the two, carefully listening as he plucked rose petals into a bag.

Sorry, I would’ve participated in other prompts but you never seem to tag me :sweat_smile: Anyways, this is bad

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Forestier let out a small chuckle in response to Detective Beaumont’s use of his first name. “You know, I always considered you my closest friend. You were there as I married Adeline. She understood how I am, and even said there was something off about you that I wasn’t seeing. I should have listened to her. Something changed in you, and I’m no longer the one people should be leery of.” Forestier wasn’t afraid to admit that he came to that specific flower shop often, even purchasing roses at times, just not for reasons one would be suspicious of. Forestier grabbed a rose, the same variety used in the killings, and just held it in his hand to observe the petals. “Recognize this? Adeline’s favorite. You can probably remember that. You knew the flower well. You were the last one with her before she became nothing more than the first name on the list of victims. Everyone has looked to me as if I killed my wife, even you, while you could just look in the mirror to find your Rose Murderer. I’m sure the manager Is preparing the flowers for you at this very moment.”

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Right as Forestier places the rose in his palms, Firmin the locksmith was on his way down the street when he suddenly stopped infront of the shop. Through the window he could see two figures while one was holding his signature flower. Fearing he might get interwied by the two gentlemen who he belived were both detectives researching the only flowershop that sells the sort, he entered the shop with a plastered smile that seemed to fool the right person. He was aware if he abstained from looking at them or noticing them as he entered, they would probably get suspicious. That’s why as he entered, he made sure to only focus his attention to Miss Wells, the slightly more handsome than average woman who worked at the shop. He didn’t love her, but he fooled everybody into thinking he was a suitor for her. It was this connection that would ultimately allow him to enter the shop withouth being seen as a potentional customer and being discarded as a possible murderer. He would’ve broken the locks to get his chance to steal petals, but if he were to do that, the shopkeeper would belive him to be a bad locksmith and get another one therefore depriving him of acces to the petals.
As he approached the counter he said “Good day, Marion. I seem to be running out of flowers lately. I’m intersted if you have any flower in the shop as blue and sparkling as your eyes.” As his eyes were fixated on Marion, who smiled and turned her back to get him such a flower, his ears were occupied on the conversation between the two men.

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Love this a lot, Levi, very nice. Only one small error with the last line. Yomama named the shopkeep/store manager above, his name is Bartholomew Laurens. (wink)

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ORP: I know, Marion Wells is the new character, the woman who works for Bartholomew Laurens.
“Miss Wells, the slightly more handsome than average woman who worked at the shop.”
he ignored the shopkeeper and walked straight up to the woman he allegedly loves. However I did forget to mention he only entered to learn about the detectives and how the investigation is going on so he can hide more efficiently.

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Cali, that was BlackBlood. The pfps threw you off

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Yup. You’re right, sorry about that. I think it was more 'cause we were just talking on another thread and you were at the top of my mind. (wink) … also, would you mind please blurring your post above, just so the story post are still prominent?

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Prompt Nine

Breathing in. Strong smells fill her nose. She can place one, it’s a wood smell, one you get from a wooden-finish on a newly crafted piece of furniture. The other was something chemical and even stronger in smell. It was getting to her head and stuffing her head up, causing a headache to form.
Telling herself she had open her eyes to see where she was. She couldn’t. Wait- No. They were already, it was just pitch black. Wedging her right hand out from beside her, where it had been pinned to her side, she felt around her. Wood. There were wooden walls pressed against her arm and above her, but to her left… She felt material on something rounded. Though it was cold and still. Was it human? Worse yet, was it a dead human? Was she trapped in a coffin?

@fraud, @wanderingechoes, @L.C.R, @CerealKiller, @Tellyg47, @Nil, @eclipseis, @euphoriaa, @Littlefeets, @Aesthetic_epyy, @BlueInferno, @Yomama, @AS007, @Hanna1, @ChaoticDeluge, @ForeverAngel, @TL_DR, @BlueInferno, @Skyler2, @LTea, @Sylas_Breik57, @unsungcheerio, @BlondeGlassesGirl, @Wingsoffire, @Eccentric, @Dying_Dreams, @Mouschi, @Quinn32, @OhSumana, @passionfruit, @idiot.exe, @BlackBlood, @LunaticLeviTheSecond

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The realisation that the horrible tought she just had might even be the truth made her want to hurl more than that sick smell of a cold rotting body. She wanted to remove her hand from the cold skin of the recently deceased person, but for some reason she delayed it. A feeling of hopelesness fills her while she slowly starts to think of a way to get out. While deep in thought and unpleasant feelings surrounding her, she finally removed her hand of the corpse’s shoulder, but as she had to move down the person’s arm to free her own arm, her fingers came across a bracelet. If it was just any old bracelet she wouldn’t stop, but the shape and the size of it was recognized by her. Terror came across her face as she realises who it is, and decided to get out as soon as possible hoping it’s just a dream, or an horrible nightmare. She attempted to violently shake the coffin, or the place she belived was a coffin. She thought if a bypasser sees the ground shaking or hears something she might be saved, but little did she know, cementery is at least a few miles away. After a while she stopped, resstless and her body aching from shaking the coffin for a very long time, she noticed by the feel of the wood, that it is rash and not sanded, probably homemade.

ORP: I hope this is okay :slight_smile:

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She wasn’t actually sure how she got there and why. She had no idea but she kept banging and yelling nonetheless. Ignoring the body next to her, she made as much noise as she could until her fingers felt very raw.
Fortunately, someone must have heard her, because a voice responded. “Is someone in there?” Despite being in a coffin, she heard the voice clearly, which told her that she couldn’t have been buried in the ground. She felt relieved.

Please, @RPers, help us to continue this prompt’s story?!

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“Yes, yes, I’m in here! Please… help me!”

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The voice got louder, probably approaching the coffin. The person outside knocked on the coffin several times. The knocks echoed throughout the coffin, making you keenly aware of how small the space was. “I really wish you were out of there. Then we could have some fun.” The voice sounded menacing. “You’re stuck in there, and I’m going to bury you.”

So many questions raced through her head. Was there anyone else nearby? Perhaps if she banged more on the coffin and shouted, someone might notice that she was stuck in the coffin. One the other hand, there might be no one around for miles. If there wasn’t anybody close by… shouldn’t she save the energy? Try to escape when no one else was nearby? Why is this happening to me?

The coffin shook as it was lifted up, jolting her into the side of the coffin. Where am I going? The shock of the situation almost made her forget the corpse laying beside her.

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