“Just because I’m the God of Humor doesn’t mean this is funny.” ((O/O RP)) ((CLOSED))

Salutations. I’m Yūmoagami. Less formally known as Yūmoa. I’m the God of Humor, Potential, Good Spirits, and Charm.
In short, I’m basically a stand-up comedian. *finger guns *
Lost soul, do you long for a home? A place for rest. You couldn’t find your way to the afterlife— but you couldn’t stay alive.
I’m sorry for you, lost soul. Sucks to suck ;)
Just kidding. I’ll offer you peace. So, how about you join me? I’ll offer you a name again. A form again. A life you never got to live— you can live it alongside me.
So, why don’t you join me, lost soul?

THIS STORY TAKES PLACE in an ancient world, where gods still walk the earth right next to humans. When someone dies, their soul has potential to become a god’s associate— essentially helping the god complete whatever prayers in exchange for an elongated life. Gods go to recruit spirits— lowly gods normally not getting the best ones, if any.
You’ve died. Unfortunately, the only god who noticed was a lowly god with, like, 3 worshipers… Yūmoa. God of Humor and Charm.
Great.

RULES:

• Probably keep it pg13 on the questionable topics but if you need to go R rated just run it past me.
• If you don’t like humor or playful insults then this probably isn’t the best rp for you.
• Please have at least ok grammar. I get that sometimes people don’t— heck, I don’t most of the time— but please try.
• Please have a sense of humor. Or sarcasm. This is supposed to be mainly a comedy rp, so please don’t be dull. Give your character a pErSoNaLiTy.
• Please respond with actual content, I don’t want to have to keep the story going myself. Have your character act more than react.

Character Template

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance:
Personality:
Backstory (How did you die?):
Alignment:

My Character:

Name: Yūmoagami / ユーモアの神
Gender: Female
Age: uh… 13.760 billion years. Mental capacity of a 18 year old. (She’s much younger than most gods)
Appearance: Shoulder length light brown hair with gold intertwined. Her eyes are a sharp blue that have flashes of orange within. She stands at about 5’11” and wears baggy clothes. She doesn’t have a specific style, however she always has a mask on the side of her head. The eyes of the mask are always spiraling and it is contorted in an almost creepy grin. Yūmoa’s form is skinnier, and she’s extremely lithe and agile.
Personality: As the God of Humor, you can just guess. Yūmoa’s extremely sarcastic, witty, and sometimes intelligently stupid. She possesses little to no common sense and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her— except maybe higher gods.
Backstory: Since she could remember, she’s been helping people with tasks, ranging from empire subterfuge trickery to giving good luck to someone to be charming on a date. Since there’s no room for extreme trickery and discerning humor to essentially build nations anymore, no one really needs her. So, now, she takes work where she can get it.
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

(Absolutely!)

(Alrighty)

(He is absolutely amazing I can’t wait lol. I’ll get the starter up in just a bit— I gotta go for a quick sec)

“Who does Oshieru think he is?” she growled to herself, walking through the ghost town. Pun intended, it was actually a cemetery. This is what she called “recruiting.”
“Yūmoa, do this,” she taunted, quoting what the God of Teaching had yelled at her days prior. “Get it together, Yūmoa. You need an arsenal. Go gEt a lOsT soUl aNd StarT tAkinG yOur job seriOuSlY, blah blah..”
Yūmoa glared over at a gravestone, with Oshieru’s symbol floating just above it. Actually, that’s what many of these shrines looked like. They each had a symbol over them, showing what god they had been pledged to in the afterlife. They were all colors, all symbols. Though, Yūmoa’s color— blue— was no where to be found. No one had wanted to join her yet.
Their loss.
The humor god wandered throughout the yard, trying to find any soul at all. She was about to give up right as a certain stone caught her eye. It only had a name: “Aeneas Aetós”
Yūmoa raised an eyebrow, smiling. “This’ll show you, Oshieru.”
The god bent down and left her finger trailing just above the stone. In it, she drew her symbols:
笑い — Meaning “laughter.”
“Hopefully he decides to join me,” she said with a smile.

_{(If he does, his soul should appear in a human form just outside of his grave and then you can enter or something. Only if you want, or you could bs it and be however creative you would like)}

Yūmoa turned, smiling widely. She was propped up on the man’s gravestone, sitting there with her elbows resting on her knees and her head in her hands.
“Well hello,” she said. “You seem cool.”
She hopped down, bushing past him so she could stand directly in front.
“I’m Yūmoagami, harbinger of laughter, tricks, and humor,” she said, bowing with arms outspread. “And, I’m your savior.”
She lifted her hand, drawing her symbol of laughter in the sky. The symbol quickly darted to the man, emblazoning itself on the side of his neck in a blue, glowing manor.
“Pleasure to have you aboard the Yūmoa train,” she said with a laugh. “Woot woot.”
The god tilted her head with a smile, trying to stand up as straight and proud as she could.

“None,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Although a slave would be pretty usefu— ANYWAY, you’re my associate now. Basically you help me fulfill the many… many requests I get from mortals.”
She gave him a cheerful wink. “Oh. Yeah. And you’re immortal now.”
Before he could reply, Yūmoa continued.
“I also get to give you a new name,” she said. “So… as my associate, you will be called… Itazura. Just so you don’t get your mortal life mixed up with your spirit life. But I can call you Aeneas if you prefer.”

“Okay that sounds fun,” she said, her eyes flitting around. “But no.”
She squinted, lifting up her arms and stretching, letting out a small groan as she did it. She had never actually… had an associate. Honestly, she didn’t know what to do.
Nevertheless, she acted like she did.
“We normally wait to be worshipped, then go and help out whomever,” she explained. “When I’m not beckoned, I normally just walk around a play pranks on people.”
Yūmoa’s eyes wandered back to the man.
“Sound good? I mean, if you have any ideas, let em fly.”

(We can also use the name you made. I don’t wanna make it seem like I just pushed that aside. But I also think it’s hilarious to just be It)

Yūmoa raised an eyebrow. “Hun. I’m the God of Humor, not Death nor Revenge. I don’t kill… well, not on purpose, but we don’t talk about that.”
She turned around, beginning to walk from the cemetery. She couldn’t wait to see Oshieru’s face once she showed up with an actual associate. She was absolutely giddy.
Recently, she had been camping out at the God of Teaching’s shrine, considering she didn’t have one of her own. Oshieru was like a geeky older brother to her that was way too pushy.
“So, we can’t kill him,” she continued. “But, we can totally prank him in a… non-personal way.”

“See, I chose you for a reason,” Yūmoa yipped, knowing full-well she hadn’t actually had a choice. It was either him or some 100 year old dead corpse on the side of the road who had the soul of an absolute moron.
She lead him through the dark alleys of the small town, soon coming to a somewhat elegant shrine.
“Welcome to your new house,” she said with a smile, turning around on the steps before him and spreading her arms. She knew it wasn’t actually theirs, but he didn’t have to know she was most definitely squatting.
“So,” she began. “Who is this person you know of?”

Yūmoa let out a small snicker of sorts, but was soon interrupted by the shuffling of feet aproaching the two. Yūmoa spun around, a wide sheepish smile on her face.
“Hey… Oshieru…,” she mumbled, slightly embarrassed.
A tall man appeared from the shadows, a giant sword by his side and a scribe block in his hand. His hair was long, tied back behind him and a pitch black. His featured were angular yet elegant, and his robe held royal gold highlights. Now this was a god. Next to him, in her stupid baggy clothes that looked like she had found them in a lost & found, Yūmoa looked like a peasant.
Though, he raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze flicking to Itazura.
Yūmoa recomposed herself, letting out a joyful giggle and putting an arm around the shoulder’s of It.
“Ey, Oshi, meet my new associate,” she said, infinently more confident now. “Itazura. Pretty cool, huh?”
The man sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. “Congratulations.”
His deep voice resonated through the temple, yet Yūmoa kept up her grin.
“However, when I said associate, I didn’t mean a previous criminal,” he said, acting as if It wasn’t even there. “Either way, it does not matter. You’re here now. Headmaster told me to go find you. We’re having a council meeting.”
“Why?” Yūmoa asked snarkily, clearly disappointed.
“See for yourself,” he replied. And just like that, he vanished into the night.
Yūmoa looked extremely unimpressed as she leaned the majority of her weight on It. She glanced up at him, beginning to laugh a little bit.
“First day on the job and you get to go meet gods, eh? What a night— er— couple minutes.”

Yūmoa stared blankly at the portal, pursing her lips. She took her arm from around It’s shoulders and walked forward, peaking in slightly. She glanced back at him and nudged her head forward.
“Dunno, but it leads to the council,” she mumbled. “It’s a building at the top of the hill. Those people aren’t gods, by the way. Those are other associates.”
Her gaze drifted to the colorful outline of the portal. “Think Oshieru gave this. He probably thinks I can’t teleport myself. Stupid.”
Quickly, Yūmoa slid her fingers in a ring in the air, small sparks issuing forth from the tips. She made a vague portal that looked too small to fit through, and looked as though it lead to a completely different location.
“Okay, yeah, we’re using this one,” she said, defeated. The god slid through, smiling at It as she passed, grabbing his hand, and yanking him in after her. The portal closed swiftly behind them, leaving more of the same scenery in its stead.

“Nah, they’re all people-sized,” Yūmoa replied dryly as they walked. “And, y’know, maybe you’ll learn powers. I’ve never had an a— I’ve never had my associates try.”
She gritted her teeth, locking her jaw in response to the sudden truth butting to show itself. She didn’t want her first associate to figure out she was just as lame as all the gods thought she was.
Yūmoa opened the double doors, busting in the giant alabaster building like she owned the place. The loud noise echoed throughout the cleansed hall, causing all heads to turn.
There was a god for just about everything, sitting in chairs lining a massive marble table. Everything looked made out of the exact same material, the white rock stretching up the walls as well. At the head of the table sat the God of Gods… Shujin.
As Yūmoa walked in, she let finger guns fly to certain gods she knew, their faces contorting into an uncomfortable and embarrassed look. She made her way to the only empty seat beside Oshieru, leaving room for It sit on the same chair. Many gods had at least one associate with them, so she didn’t look too out of place.
As they took their seats, Shujin resumed council, conversing with the rest. But Yūmoa didn’t listen. She just kicked her feet on the chair like a little child.

Yūmoa gave him a grin. As the sub god of charm, she liked it when people just let compliments fly.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. “And yeah, many gods just look… so unimpressive.”
Her eyes flitted to Shujin, giving off a mischievous twinkle.
“He kinda just looks like an old man on some kinda drug,” she whispered, only loud enough for It to hear. “And don’t even get me started with the goddess of nature.”
She nodded her head to a druid-looking woman, with plants intertwined with her auburn hair.
“Hippy-lookin’ ass,” she whispered, bumping softly into It’s shoulder with her own. “But, don’t underestimate ‘em. Shujin can dropkick you to next year.”

“Cool it, Honos,” Yūmoa spat, however her words were everything but menacing. Her stupid good nature made her lack the intimidating quality most of the time, and she cursed herself for it. But, she could be scary when she wanted… sometimes.
“And nah, this isn’t mah firs’ associate,” she said, mimiking his accent slightly. “I’ve had plenty, thank you.”
Part of her wasn’t wrong. She had previously had an associate… somewhat. But she didn’t talk about them anymore. No one talked about that anymore.
She propped her elbow up on It’s shoulder, which didn’t really work since he was taller, but it had the same effect she hoped for.
“It, this is Honos. You probably know ‘em,” she said. “Honos, this is Itazura.”
Yūmoa only used his associate name when she introduced them— that was the formal way of doing things.