ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE , AND ALL ARE MERELY PLAYERS
an INDEPENDENT , SEMI - SELECTIVE multi - muse roleplay blog featuring muses from the M.arkiplier Cinematic Universe , and the JSE Egos !
( as written by Wren ! )
THEY HAVE THEIR EXITS AND THEIR ENTRANCES ;
AND ONE IN THEIR TIME PLAYS MANY PARTS
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his hair is naturally wavy/curly. he doesn’t particularly do hair upkeep, but it’s not like he really has the supplies to when he’s traveling.
he doesn’t drink. he prefers to have his wits about him, and doesn’t want anything impaired in the case something goes wrong. it definitely isn’t also because of a tragic loss involving one of his previous partners.
adventuring jackets ! he has lots of them. they’re all worn - in and a little beat up, but he likes them that way. most of them have patches, some of which are from places he’s been and others are just ones he saw and liked. some of them are repairs, others are just for fun. he doesn’t have a lot of time or supplies to repair things on the road, so he’s had to give away or lose some of his things / jackets, but he just considers that a new canvas when he gets a new one.
on an adjacent note, that is somehow still one of his first hats. somehow he manages to never lose them ( save for once, when it went off the side of a boat. a very dramatic moment, at least ) .
he has a necklace that he wears a lot, but doesn’t actually know what it’s for or what it means. he found it during one of his hikes while on a trip, and felt the need to take it with him.
he doesn’t believe in the supernatural. yes, he has witnessed many the supernatural event right in front of him. no, he still doesn’t believe in it.
king of jumping down into places without knowing if there’s a way to get back up. the same applies to walking into dark places.
he has a burn scar on his left palm. he doesn’t acknowledge it. there’s a trace of one on his shoulder on the same side, as well.
he will dramatically grab his company to pull them to safety, or hold them tightly to swing somewhere via bullwhip. it is in fact technically defying the laws of gravity when he does so, but he’s never completely followed laws anyway.
his bag basically always has what’s needed. m.ary poppins satchel.
loves riding on trains. does not like flying, but has learned to deal with it. somehow, helicopters aren’t as bad ( which he does happen to know how to operate ) .
doesn’t eat a lot while traveling, but will eat so much food if sat down for a meal.
preferred shoes are boots. sometimes he’ll tie little charms to the laces, or retie/re-loop the laces into some kind of design or shape.
a small starter for @stageplayhero ( rhode ( illy ) & mark ) !
~~~
When Mark entered the room, Rhode ventured little more than a glance up from his phone— barely even lifting his head. Ah, great. Company. And it had to be him.
Sunk down his his chair, he has his feet propped up on the seat of the chair across from him, ankles crossed and arms loosely crossed over his chest— save for the hand holding his phone, of course. Taking a break from the chaos of the set to catch up on some articles he’d saved to read. While he’d much prefer having a physical book to read, he couldn’t deny that reading online and pdf’s was a far more practical option. And there he was, thinking he’d had an escape. An empty side room, for once ! It was even relatively quiet, yet still had enough setup to be considered as one of the break rooms.
“ If you’re looking for something to drink, it’s over there, ” Rhode initiated, nodding in the direction of a coffee maker and some water bottles, as he reached down to pick up his own water bottle ( a reusable one, of course ) . He was, admittedly, curious about why Mark was there and not busy with some scene, but not enough as to warrant asking… yet.
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They don’t expect anyone to see them, from where they sit. A branch, curled in just the right way to create a seating area. Nondescript but not hidden. So alike to be their ways.
A fitting perch, to stop and take a breath. To stop and remember.
The flowers were wilted, by then. The flowers from past years have long been claimed by the surrounding dirt and wildlife. He doesn’t mind. Everything has its turn— even them. Even it had its time, as it was meant to. Not that recalling the ending didn’t cause an ache unlike any feeling he’d ever bore before.
Feeling. They hadn’t been made to feel anything but mercy and quietude. Since that year… they’d felt other things creep in. Longing ? Mourning ? No regret… but a sense of sadness, that it was over, and would never happen again.
They’d never understood the other side of their duties. Since then.. they’d begun to. A distant feeling, more akin to feeling it from afar than feeling it directly, but a sensation nonetheless.
A.nnus watched, as mourners arrived and left. Bidding words— to them ? to it ?— that they may or may not have known were being heard. He sat, feet planted on the ground and hands folded in his lap, as souls approached and walked away. Leaving flowers, leaving memories.
That’s what it was, wasn’t it ? The memories ?
He still sat around. He still watched, observed from afar. Maybe he’d be back, someday. Hah, as if they would agree to another round of possession. A.nnus gave a small breath of a laugh. He hadn’t laughed, before that year.
In the meantime, he’d watch, and wait. By the next sunset, he’d have to leave. Return to his duties, return to his place.
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because i’m having muse for my beans over here, here’s a quick overview of the lore behind my versions of the date and heist boys >:D
note that all of this is verse - dependent and can easily be changed depending on who they’re being put with !
( this is kinda messy bc im really tired rn but hopefully it’s enough to go by, at least for now ! )
TERRANCE / the date
One chance. One chance, to have the ideal date. And he was prepared for it ! … Until something decided he wasn’t going to be.
Still, problems required solutions. Any situation could be saved, if one tried hard enough ! At least, that’s what he believed. What he was stubbornly telling himself.
Something else had to be making everything happen. Kidnapping ? Aliens ?
… Well, at least he got more than one chance.
his name is Terrance ! he likes nicknames, derived from his name or otherwise.
very much a romantic. this has caused him problems in the past, but he doesn’t like talking about his past relationships.
doesn’t like feeling down. reminds him too much of his past — and he doesn’t want the people around him to be down !
he has a severe fear of rejection. namely in a romantic sense. as well as a fear of not having control, but he’s gotten better at managing that. wonder where those came from, actor.
he prefers dressing nicely, but doesn’t always. sometimes it’s just a collared shirt, other times it’s a full suit. he almost always has a flower somewhere, though, on his lapel or elsewhere. the flowers alternate, too ! sometimes they switch when the viewer looks away. Terrance doesn’t seem to notice.
he genuinely cares about the date / viewer. whether or not those feelings end up romantic or friendly, he cares about them deeply and is very protective over them.
Terrance is aware of Actor.
MAVERICK / the thief
One shot. One shot, at the heist of a lifetime. They’d be set for life, if they were successful.
And why wouldn’t he be, as a world - renown and widely wanted master of the heist ?
his name is Maverick, but people close to him can call him Mav
his ego is .. well, it’s not as bad as actor.
“ where in the world is m.arkiplier ” was founded after heist. he couldn’t cope with failure, with losing the heist partner — so he kept seeking bigger and more dangerous heists, to the point of creating an organization with the sole purpose of tracking him down. yeah, he has bad coping habits.
he always has his beanie. always. he says it’s part of his gimmick. it’s actually a stress item. he’ll take it off and knead at it / whack it around if he gets frustrated or stressed.
very good at picking locks. he has one of those lock picking toy sets that he fiddles with when he’s bored.
yes, he writes all of his plans on oversized pieces of paper. it’s for the gimmick. it’s like h.ome a.lone /j.
he really likes oversized hoodies. if he’s not wearing a heist outfit, he’s wearing an oversized hoodie and jeans or baggy pants.
@c-aptainslog asked : POST - IT NOTE (for ry from cap!!) // ( prompt )
~~~
The captain’s tablet pings with a message. What’s the point of leaving a traditional note, when they have ample power for now and access to something as simple as a private messaging system ?
TO : THE CAPTAIN
FROM : M̷̪̤̯̔A̵̲͖͐̉̿ R̵̞̼͓̂ K̶̡̍
Hey, Captain! Nothing too much to worry about, but there’s been some weird activity down in the breakers by the secondary engines. Wires haven’t been connecting properly, it seems. Shouldn’t take too long, but it’s a difficult job for one person. Think you could spare a moment ? Shouldn’t take you off of your schedule enough for any time slot shifts. Just need an extra hand.
muse list has been updated here ! i’m doing a little bit of work behind the scenes while i have the energy to 🕺 might do a lore drop later if i can find enough words pfft
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There's a knock on Cecil's bedroom door. When they open it, it's revealed to be Damien. He's still wearing his coat, suggesting that despite the late hour, he was only just home after one of his "extra shifts" in the family law firm. However, there's a smile on their brother's tired face as he reveals a small box. "I was able to visit that bakery near the offices today and decided we both needed a pick-me-up."
Sure enough, there were some chocolate chip cookies inside the sealed box. Somehow, Damien had resisted temptation for hours. (blueheartedmayor, who is totally asleep right now :D )
~~~
By that point, so late at night, Cecil had assumed they were the only one awake anymore — who else would be awake, when their parents both had the luxury of going to sleep at reasonable times, and Celine had already bid goodnight ? The knock on their bedroom door startled them, admittedly, for they hadn’t heard Damien enter the house at all.
Cecil looks down at the box, then narrows their eyes at Damien. “ You didn’t eat any of them before making it here ? Wow, I’m surprised. ” They’d crossed their arms, poker face then fading away to a smile as they kick the door open further. “ Come on, I’m sure you’re tired. No point in walking all the way back down to the kitchen. It’s not like mother and father have ever actually checked to see if I’m not eating in my room. ”
They didn’t know about the snack stash, and they never would.
“ Another late shift ? ” Cecil asks as they take a seat on the rug next to their bed. Brows furrowed, they pull down an extra pillow from their bed and offered it to Damien. “ I can’t believe they keep getting you to do that … ”
He just kept working himself. It made Cecil’s blood boil if they thought about it too much, but they couldn’t risk saying too much, for all of their sakes.
They shrug, plucking one of the cookies from the box and holding it up. “ But — either way, we get cookies out of it. ” Then, a little softer, more genuine ; “ thanks, for thinking of me. Didn’t have to. ”
Damien was nearly tempted to wait until the morning. He was back so late, he would have expected Cecil to be asleep. Yet, the youngest sibling was full of surprises.
"Of course I didn't," he answered with a smile that brought a bit of life back to his face. It was like a secret passcode as Cecil kicked open the way into the secret domain. Ordinarily, it would be Cecil seeking refuge in Damien's room to 'prove' they were studying and not napping on the older brother's bed.
The box was briefly placed on the bed so Damien could shrug off his overcoat. He was still wearing his work attire underneath, and the creases only served to showcase how worn out Damien was. However, as he lifted the box so he could sit on the floor with Cecil, it was masked with that familiar smile.
"It's the last long shift this week. Meant I could keep a few extra dollars to splash out." It was a farce. The family were known for their wealth, and yet the son barely had a few spare dollars to his name. "Life is ours to choose, as I always say... And I wanted double-chocolate chip cookies." On that note, he reached forward to snatch one out of the box like it was a small trophy. "And what sort of brother would I be if I denied you the opportunity to indulge for once? Who says we need to be stuck attending tight-collar events, eating food that is more ornate than it is appetising."
Breaking a piece off, Damien popped it into his mouth and enjoyed the simple pleasure, one that even had him physically relax, presumably for the first time in hours. "I hope you've not been locked away in here all day."
Cecil, on most days, liked being in bed. Curled up in the covers, thick comforter wrapped around them, pillows strategically placed to create a fortress of fabric & fluff that they could use to doodle or read in. On that day, they’d been forced to forego their comfortable bed in favor of their desk … only a slight upgrade from being in an actual office.
Their room wasn’t a place that Cecil typically allowed anyone to enter — even any maids were wary to cross the doorframe. Damien was one of those few people occasionally allowed entry. After so many times crashing in his room, Cecil reasoned, he should be able to crash in theirs.
At the sight of Damien’s work attire, a frown crept into their expression that they tried to wipe away when he looked back at them. “ I know it won’t change anything by saying it, but … it’s not fair. Remotely. I’d take some of it off your shoulders, if I could … ” … and they meant it. They’d thought about it, many a time — whenever he came home late from work, whenever they could overhear their parents discussing his university deal, whenever he barely had enough spare cash to buy cookies.
“ Yes, hors-d’œuvres. The food that isn’t actually food at all. ” Cecil rolled their eyes. “ I need to figure out more effective ways for smuggling food in, next time. Might have to add my own pockets to things, ” they suggested with a small laugh, in - between bites of cookie — which happened to taste amazing. “ This — this is so much better. ”
“ Ah … Hate to disappoint, but … ” Hand against the side of their neck, they looked off in the other direction. “ Homework doesn’t do itself, as much as I’d like it to. Managed to make it out the window for a little while around sunset, at least. ” Ah, yes, ‘out the window’. The spot on the roof, accessible from Cecil’s window, that they had claimed as their ‘thinking spot’ from a young age … one that, thankfully, no one had spotted from the ground yet. Probably because it was so high up.