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HEY KIDS. I thought it’d be a good idea if we started a new MASTERLIST FOR INDIE SENSE8 ROLEPLAYERS, so I thought I’d throw out a line for everyone that is playing/has either a CANON CHARACTER, OC SENSE8 MUSE to reblog and I will create a post that will be gradually updated as the fam returns. 

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ᴰᴼ ᴵᵀ ᴺᴼᵂ

It’s a voice she hasn’t heard in long time.

It’s a tone she hasn’t heard directed at her… ever.

She turns around slowly, looking up at the man she’s been in love with since the moment she first saw him smile. He’s come to her. How he found her, she doesn’t know, since the psychic wall between them has been impossible to breach. It’s probably part of the reason that he’s the only one left standing except for her. As always, Wolfgang learned and learned quickly, and emotional unavailability wasn’t a trick he picked up after becoming a sensate.

“Wolfgang,” she whispers, voice rasping from disuse. She’s half terrified that Whispers will come to her again, though she’s doing her best to keep her emotions level. She’s been learning the limitations of their connections, and as long as he doesn’t feel anything amiss on her end, he has no reason to come find her.

“Do it already. I know you’ve been looking for me.” His gaze is unavoidable, and as much as she wants to look away, to squirm in private, she can’t. She can’t avoid him. “You have to do what you have to do.”

“I tried to save them, Wolfgang. You must know that.”

“What, because that organization is so trustworthy that they would have been saved?” Hot tears well up and she has to turn away now as he continues. “Well, at least you were smart about it. I could never kill you.”

She’s trembling under his gaze. She can feel the fury rolling off him in waves and the hurt that resides deep below it. It’s her fault, she knows, and she can’t change that. She’s to blame for the fact that they both had gained a family and now had lost a family. Wolfgang didn’t even have a home to return to. All he’d had was Felix, and now he had nothing but a worn picture to love.

“I can’t–” And her emotions come rushing out all at once, and while they both know that apologies will never suffice, he can’t avoid all of the pain and self-hatred she’s been holding. He can’t forgive her, but he can’t accuse her of not feeling. She took the wrong deal, and she’s paid for it ever since, and she’ll never stop paying for it. Not if he has his way.

“Is that him? He’s come to you at last, then.”

She lets out a sob, fingers pulling at her hair as she tries to block out Whispers. “Stop–!”

“And you’re at the lab, still. Convenient. I’ll send a team out. Keep him there, Ms. Dandekar.” Whispers sounds smug and she’s nearly screaming with grief and when she looks up at Wolfgang, she knows that there’s no other solution. It strikes Whispers too late and even as he starts to dissuade her and even as Wolfgang starts forward, her trembling hands are gathering bottles and it’s only a matter of seconds before the syringe plunges into her leg.

“You’ll never find him,” she snarls, pushing its contents into her bloodstream. The team will be here in ten minutes; she’ll be dead in three. She leans against the wall and slides down even as Wolfgang crouches beside her. He’s in her head again. He knows now, he knows everything, and there’s nothing that either of them can say.

“Damn you.” He leans down, cups her head in his hand and kisses her. He’s mad at her, he hates her, he hates her more for saving him, he hates her most for leaving him. He can’t justify it– it’s love. It’s never plagued him before. “Damn you,” he repeats, pulling her closer.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, clutching him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I know, I do. I love you.”

“Wolfgang…” She pulls back, looks into his eyes, brushes her lips against his one last time.

“I couldn’t stop.”

But she’s limp in his arms, suddenly heavy before he notices how light she is, how pale and thin she was. He knows now that he has seven minutes. He stands up, knows it’ll take him four to reach his car. He takes a step back, looks at her limp body lying on the ground and sighs.

He’ll take seven minutes. He’ll take as many bullets as they have for him. He just can’t leave her there.

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@innatesensate liked for a starter (for Riley!)

Staring out over the sea on the villa terrace, Kala found herself holding her arms around her torso to fend off the cold as the blue water transformed into graffiti and peeling walls. 

“Riley,” she breathed, gazing at the other sensate with concern for both the woman and the man she held in her arms. “It’s good to see you.”

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Outside of these walls, she is Kala Rasal. She smiles politely when she is supposed to, speaks sweet nothings when appropriate, ducks her head and always keeps to her place. She walked before him when they married– she walks behind him now that the knot has been tied.

Inside this conference room, she sits at the head of the table. Her husband sits by her right hand, poring over papers, talking numbers. He has the brain for business, the connections that can keep the wheels well-greased– government, industry, military, and even their underground circles keep up their ends of the bargain and Rajan makes sure that everyone is happy in the end. But when a decision is to be made, Kala Dandekar, chemical genius and accidental queen, has the command of the board. Not a word that she utters is disobeyed.

So when she lifts her hand from where it hovers over a notebook filled with diagrams and incomprehensible shorthand and those two lazy fingers beckon you in, you’d best remember who’s in charge here.

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[[ Starters/ask meme replies are hopefully gonna be out tonight~! ]]

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Send 💋 to catch my muse under the mistletoe!

Do they take the initiative? Or will they be flustered and shy? Maybe they won’t care at all, or they’ll try and run away?

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[[ All I want for Christmas is for you guys to have lovely, lovely days. <3 ]]

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Like for itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny paragraph starters while I get back into the groove of writing!

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“Auntie, it’s okay.

                                                                        “We have the Internet.”

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Who gives a fuck who I fuck?

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innatesensate replied to your post “[[ Eyyy what up guys I’ve lost all of my icons but hit me up, Kala’s...”

//Welcome back!

[[ Thank you! Oh man, I’ve been missing Kala for a while now but the special gave me a kick in the pants to actually return <3 ]]

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Reblog if you’re an active Sense8 roleplay blog!

In order to help sense8 rpers find each other, go ahead and give this a reblog if you’re an active sense8 rp blog!

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[[ Eyyy what up guys I’ve lost all of my icons but hit me up, Kala’s coming baaaack ]]

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THIS SCENE.

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HAMILTON @ THE GRAMMYS

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@mcnsterlikeme liked for a starter ||

He lurks in the back of her mind, creeping across her brain like the vegetable plants she remembers seeing in southern India as a child. She can feel the heat of his stare in those memories, too. She knows better-- however, knowing does not translate to doing, and one can know better without the hope of being better. (She wonders if he thinks about this, thinks about himself in relation to this idea, and finds herself wishing he wouldn’t. His deserving it is irrelevant.)

After the attack on Rajan’s father, Kala avoided going to the temple for a while. She knew that the attack wasn’t her fault and that she was perfectly safe, but she didn’t want to face the memories of the brutality again.

Of course, when she finally went to the temple again, the blood smeared across the third step in her memory had disappeared, as had the blood on her hands and her skirt been washed away. It was to be expected, and yet...

She took her flowers from one of the chatting vendors seated along the entrance to the temple and took in a deep breath before launching into her familiar ritual. Inside the temple itself, she felt peace gently falling around her shoulders, easing away her visceral worries as she struck the bell and cleared her mind with a prayer to Ganesha before kneeling before the idol. The smell of incense filled her senses for a moment before she found herself kneeling in a gloomy brick courtyard instead, the smell of rain fresh. Her skirt was quickly soaking up water from the damp surface. She knew where she was, and who had brought her there.

“You are the only one I see while I am praying,” she said softly, lifting her head up to look at the sky. As she found out through trial and error, nobody could see her here when they visited each other, when she was not in Mumbai.