Something a bit different.

Hi there. I've got a different take on things.

Instead of giving a long and detailed plot and backstory, why not take a prompt and just start writing? No plans, no small details, just make the story as we go. We each make a character, use the prompt to start us off, and take things where they'd go naturally. I've done this once or twice before, and the roleplays that came out of it were the most fun I've had with writing in a long time.

-I play both male and female, and I can do all pairings.
-The basic framework of the plot is fantasy. That's it, just fantasy.
-If you read all of this, please mention something about shields when you message me.
-Post length should be at least two decent paragraphs, with good grammar and punctuation.
-I'm fine with graphic language, violence, and sex, but obviously nothing like rape scenes or incest.

I'll only respond to PMs, so if you're interested, make sure you message me! I hope to roleplay with you soon.

A writing example of mine, to show roughly what I expect from a partner:

Aleksander Adair
27

He was rage.

Feral rage, pure fighting instinct. He'd killed four of his handlers during transit, had escaped exactly nine times. Which was why, as he was dragged into a disgustingly opulent office above the known world's most notorious fighting pits, he was being carried.

His wrists were chained to his feet. His feet were chained to the back of his neck. His neck was chained to everything else. When they set him on the floor, he could only sit on his knees because he couldn't stand up. On top of it all, he was gagged and blindfolded, though the blindfold was removed when he was finally set down. Instantly, his cold blue-grey eyes, the color of cold-forged steel, were cataloging the room and it's details.

So much wealth. It sickened him. He didn't have to see the halls and streets outside this room to know the destitution. He could hear the moans and screams of slaves, prisoners. Beggars. Could smell the piss and blood and vomit. The filth of complete poverty. And the man before him was dripping jewels. His fingers covered in rings, his neck draped with gems. Even the piercings in his face could feed an orphan for a year.

The pretty male slave beside him was barely clothed. He could see the bruises on his arms and legs and stomach, shaped like hands and fingers. Some of them not even similar-sized hands. Aleksander started growling, just staring at the beaten man.

"This one had to have been raised by demons, Emir. He's killed half the handlers and escaped who knows how many times. I'd say he's not worth the trouble, but he's going to make you the richest man in the world if he fights for you." The slaver was speaking. Negotiations for a price.

Aleksander's gaze snapped to the 'Emir'. That made sense. No wonder he was so coldly arrogant. The man was eyeing him down like... like he was nothing more than an interesting statue. An object to be observed. Saints, that poor boy beside him had to be living in the Abyss.

"Shame he can't be tamed. He'd have been a fun one for my collection," said the Emir, only the softest trace of disappointment in his honeyed voice. The glance he gave the slave next to him was... Aleksander was growling again, sounding for all the world like a demonic wolf through his gag. "I'll have him. Take him to the cells."

Brumous Faeries are the best of the shittiest people.

Brumous Faeries are the best of the shittiest people.

Brumous Faeries are the best of the shittiest people.

Brumous Faeries are the best of the shittiest people.

Brumous Faeries are the best of the shittiest people.

Brumous Faeries are the best of the shittiest people.