While not technically my most recent RP post, this is from my most recent forum RP post:   

Oh sweet heavens, the woman was both pretty and forgetful? A woman after his own heart.
 

I haven't written a post in ten years. I've waited expectantly to post something just so I could participate in this thread. And of course, it's Mindcrime, RIP. Explaining what this means would take up as much space as the paragraph itself. Oh, context sensitive material. c':

X loved Nikki the most in those moments: bathed in moonlight, sweat on his brow and laughter on his lips, the echo of a dead child born again into the skeletal frame of a junkie made terrorist. He'd laughed, too, on that night - something real and tangible from the man he'd once been slipped through a hairline crack in his otherwise perfect facade, and so badly did he want to believe the playground secret slipped to him that day. So badly did he that he placed all of his cards on its table, and still had the audacity to wonder why they all went flying across the floor just months later.

"I would do anything for you."

("But not that – never that.")

everyone's writing here is wonderful, guys how dare u all.

Nestled between her ribs is a pincer that she pulls, pulls out of the barbed-framed heart, creates an image of construct. Designed to perfection, of course, for the cavernous sweep of Coalition, to the criss-crossing neon wire lights, the pulsating dance floor that beats under her feet. She designs and creates: produces a hooked adamantine smile never-too far from her mouth.