Piece of Cake (Tabitha and 7.39)

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Tabitha

a cinnamon roll with a little extra cinnamon
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm open to doing either but I tend to be a teeny bit more aggressive when I come up with the original plot. Even so, if you want to go a different direction or explore an idea or few, just let me know then feel free to take the plot reins.
Favorite Genres
High Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Scifi/Futuristic, Romance, Drama, Noir, Mystery, Drama, Action, Suspense
Genre You DON'T Like
Sex without a point. If and when our characters get intimate, it has to be in the context of their relationship and not the main point of the story.
#1
Milianna Lockchester
Assassin
25 (F)
Huntress




One unforgivably cold night a woman abandoned her baby on a churches doorstep, and despite being run down and attacked by people so often it was still home of God, and they took the girl who had nothing but a first name hastily written and shoved into the basket. Milianna wasn't the only child adopted in by the church, over time they took in more, all ranging from 2-17, but once they were 18 they were out, but Milianna began to notice that the children who were taken in didn't stick around and one day after finally having enough she followed a sister with stealth that would put a trained professional to shame.

If she hadn't spoken up, she could have lived her days in peace and forced herself to forget, but the bit of kindness she had left that night compelled her to ask the nun what she was doing. Of course, being only eight at the time she couldn't understand what human trafficking was. Within an instant, she was passed around from owner to owner until she was 13 and settled on one man who found a use for a girl who had trained herself to kill to survive. After all, all he had to do was polish an already sharp sword.

Now at 25, the queen of death and deception has quite the body count but just can't seem to add one more to the list!







t e d d y . a l l e n
c h e f
2 6 ( M )
t a r g e t


  

Perhaps it was a sign from when he was born. Mrs. Allen took one look at the warm, chubby baby in her arms and with a tired smile said he reminded her of a teddy bear. The name stuck...Teddy Vincent Allen. He took after his father in having a large build with broad shoulders and large cobalt blue eyes. Wavy sandy blonde tresses and a gentle dimpled smile came from his mother. Teddy grew up to be a kindhearted kid with a good appetite and better taste in food. He enjoyed watching cooking shows with his father; they'd put their best effort into making different dishes. Some were a hit but others prompted Mrs. Allen to make a new meal for the family in its wake.

Teddy's creativity didn't end with food. He loved listening to jazz music and begged his parents for piano lessons. Despite his sweet personality, he got horribly bullied for his weight...Until the summer before junior year of high school. It was then he finally got his father's imposing height and sculpted jawline. Working at his grandfather's farm over the summer only helped his physique firm up. His best friend would tease that puberty hit him like a truck.

What truly hit Teddy was what he wanted to do after high school. He'd kept up his cooking show ritual with his father but had gotten so good over the years that Mr. Allen stepped back and let Teddy work his magic. His food made people happy, especially the desserts. That made him happier than anything. So after graduating, he decided to work towards a challenging but rewarding dream: to make pastries so good they'd earn him two or even three Michelin stars!

Currently he works under a chef of pure steel in a dessert restaurant downtown. Teddy knows it's almost impossible to become a soux chef for her but he will keep trying. Eventually he'll learn enough to open his own place...If he isn't killed by the assassin he just fell in love with. Good luck Teddy!
 

Tabitha

a cinnamon roll with a little extra cinnamon
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I'm open to doing either but I tend to be a teeny bit more aggressive when I come up with the original plot. Even so, if you want to go a different direction or explore an idea or few, just let me know then feel free to take the plot reins.
Favorite Genres
High Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Scifi/Futuristic, Romance, Drama, Noir, Mystery, Drama, Action, Suspense
Genre You DON'T Like
Sex without a point. If and when our characters get intimate, it has to be in the context of their relationship and not the main point of the story.
#2
'Trade my ball and chain in for a ticket
On a one way trip into Georgia
Big smiles, apple pies
My people, and blue skies
Tomatoes grow where I can pick 'em
On an open highway through Georgia
Green grass, tear stains
Shadow dancin' in the pourin' rain...'


Teddy's phone alarm woke him up with one of his favorite songs. His sapphire blue eyes sparkled with excitement.Today was going to be special. A dessert inspiration had come last night and he couldn't wait to try creating it! First he had to get through another shift at New Troy Patisserie. That's when he noticed the time. It hadn't been his first alarm singing but his third and final. "Ah crap! Thanks a bunch dream kitchen..." The six foot-five pastry chef rushed out of bed and into the shower. Being relegated to active dish duty by Head Chef Lydia for being late wasn't his idea of a good time. Her view was if they didn't show up on time for their job then they must want another one for their shift, like cleaning all the dishes by themselves or sorting incoming customer orders by volume and alphabetical order. Since New Troy Patisserie was a three Michelin star bakery...There were more than enough orders and dishes to go around. Despite Chef's harsh punishments and even harsher words, Teddy learned eagerly from observing her every shift. They had vastly different personalities but both smiled when a child's eyes lit up after tasting one of their cupcakes or when a sad patron left a bit happier because they'd made her favorite brioche. Food wasn't the answer to the world's problems but it did make them easier to face.

Like any other big city, New Troy had its darker side and people who fought to keep order. Of course, assassins weren't the first ones who came to mind for most people when they thought of managing chaos. On the other side of town was a nondescript office building full of assassins hiding in plain sight as an appraisal and auction company. A short, slightly hunched elderly man in a brown pinstripe suit seemed hard at work in the largest office. Stringer liked upending expectations. It made running his network easier. He took another drag of his cigar as he updated his active agents via text. Another thing that made his job easier was making money. The auction his company would be curating next held authentic 17th century jewelry. The potential cut from that event had him practically drooling and not paying enough attention.
'Milianna, I received intel that our notorious mob associate has a brunch date today at 11 in the Grant Street food district off Main.'
'He'll be wearing a purple jacket. So subtle...'
By the time Stringer hit send he realized there'd been a tiny mistake. He meant "Grand Street". Oh well, Milianna was one of his best assassins. She'd be able to figure it out. After all, how many burly men walked around wearing purple jackets?

Of course as luck would have it, on the way out of his apartment Teddy had managed to spill his coffee. Thankfully it only got on his gray hoodie and not his white chef uniform. All the same it meant he had to grab a different jacket. With a wistful smile he gladly took his dad's old purple and gold letterman jacket. The old man insisted Teddy keep it upon graduating high school since he never got one of his own. Despite the coffee setback he still would be on time if he walked quickly. It had been amazing to find an apartment only three blocks from work. Nothing except a drastic emergency could keep him from getting there.
 
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
My Usual Online Time
Fuck I don't know, it's Russian roulette.
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Female
#3
Milianna sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she threw her blanket off and kicked her legs off the edge of the mattress, her feet poking the ground until they felt the softness of her slippers. Putting them on she shuffled around her room not forgetting to take her phone with her, dropping it in the breast pocket of her pajama's. The woman grabbed non-stick spray and coated a pan with it, flicked the fire on and began to raid her near-empty fridge. An egg, half-eaten burger, and an almost empty gallon of milk. She took it out of the fridge, checked the expiration date and gave it the usual test sniff. Milianna couldn't help but grumble as she trashed it, an egg, half-eaten burger and no almost empty gallon of milk. Doing what she could, she cracked the egg onto the pan and dissected the burger, ripping up the bits of meat and throwing in the tomato and lettuce into the pan.

"Shittiest fucking omelet I've ever made," she mumbled to herself. She only spoke to remind herself she knew how she didn't have many opportunities to talk and quickly realized if she didn't attempt to talk at all Milianna could probably forget how to. While the fire did its work, Milianna went back to raiding her fridge, pleased to discover a juice box in the back of the refrigerator, thanking her past self for taking such good care of her future self. After a healthy 30 minutes of eating a burnt omelet and sipping on a juice box, Milianna began to get ready. Brushing her teeth and hair, she let her mind wander if today would be an easy day or a bad day. Her phone buzzed, the notification clearly her answer.


'Milianna, I received intel that our notorious mob associate has a brunch date today at 11 in the Grant Street food district off Main.'
'He'll be wearing a purple jacket. So subtle...'


She gave the screen a hard stare before placing the phone face down on the bathroom counter. A cream sweater and plum skirt paired with black stockings -- it would be hard to believe how she could barely be bothered to feed herself a proper breakfast. "Off Main," She mumbled as she slipped on her heels and picked up her messenger bag, it was worn out by use, but by today's fashion standard it was more of an aesthetic than a relic. Finding another one with so many hidden compartments would be too difficult after all. "Close to where I am already...how lucky." Finally strapping a small knife to her thigh she head out, making sure to take her phone with her.

Millianna hurried down the street thinking of plan A, B, C thru Z if she were lucky she wouldn't have to bother with any of them if the opportunity presented itself. A small needle soaked in poison was the first plan, a small prick and she could go. The color of purple caught her eye and she stopped where she was, immediately finding the moving speck. Well, the man was too big to be considered a speck, and Millianna could only narrow her eyes at the sight of him. From what she's heard he was a tall man, burly, and the one she had found fit that description. Though she couldn't figure out why he didn't seem to be the target, he was at the location and wearing the purple jacket. Wasting no more time on her own thoughts she began to follow while keeping a healthy distance between her and him.