Well met!
Having started my role-play career when I was but the young age of eight years, (neopets, how I miss thee). Now thirty plus years of age, I guess one could say I've a fair deal of role-play time beneath the belt. Is my grammar perfect? No. Do I have the literacy of a well reknowned English Professor or some Shakespear prodigy? Absolutely not.
I do try, though.
From subtle and tame, to a web of euphoric bliss and deceit - I've been about it all... almost. I am rather open to trying any type of role-play, though do bare with me should there be particular lore/know how that I lack. While I enjoy writing to my hearts content, I will say that I learn at a slower pace than most.
I do ask that RP partners be 21+.
OoC and IC are to be kept separate. If my character has an issue with yours, that does not mean I hold issue with you OoCly!
I can not stress this enough! I am not here to swoon or be swooned. I am here to enjoy stories that we weave together.
Preferences?
A list will do, surely. Simple. Clean.
► 1 v 1
► Character Development
► Romance | Heartbreak
► Dark (To a degree) You may ask me privately should you've any questions, or wish to know the lines of this.
► Paragraph(s) | Descriptive
► Medieval Fantasy, Steampunk, Modern, Futuristic, Post Apocalyiptic, Survival, Western, Sci-Fi, Experimental - The list is endless.
Role-Play Sample
Tousled raven locks lies within a lazy bun. Plumes of smoke twirl about like some unchoreographed dance as the cherry burns. Bright lights have come to replace the shine of the stars. Inhalation of toxic fumes is bittersweet. The neon sign, 'The Unwanted', like a tattoo on her reflection in the window. It's flickering luminescence a depiction of her, her hopes, and her dreams.
Fingertips trail along the metal of the Desert Eagle. A vintage in this day an age. Where ammunition isn't in the form of bullets that dwindle in number... But, instead, the form of wanting to stay alive. Cyborgs. A.I.. They have nearly eradicated the human race as a whole. It's been months since she's seen another.
A zip and zap, a short circuit causing a momentary light in the dark room. How the mind coaxes her gaze to the mangled bodies of the P.H.A. - Patrol and Human Annihilation. A assassination society of machines formed with strict intention to seek the living and end their meager lives by forcing them to become one of them.
The butt of the cigarette tugs to her lower lip as she draws it away. The exhale spilling a haze over lush, red lips.
The weight of the gun now becomes one with her as she lifts it, pressing the length of the barrel against her brow as she closes her eyes. The chill is... Welcoming. Intoxicatingly so. The beat of her heart pounding as a smile graces her features. Momentary relief in the humidity of this damned, dark room.
Faint is the movement of one of the P.H.A. A soft laughter escapes her as she tilts her head back. The brink of insanity only a breath away. Swinging her legs over, that scarlet dress hugs and exaggerates her curves. The sway of her hips and the sound of heels... She could very well be the Devil's advocate. She looks down to the pitiful sight of the machine that tries to carry out its mission even in such a sorry state.
Kneeling down, pressing a soft kiss to the cheek of that synthetic, rubber face. Her words like venom on sultry tone.
"How admirable... Such a good little machine..."
Looking in it's eyes, she presses the gun to the side of it's head. No.. Why waste a precious bullet? With a sigh, she holsters the gun prior to brushing the back of her hand along the machine's busted jawline before she comes to a stand. A little movement, and she places her heel to the throat before stepping down and giving her foot a sharp twist. Wires snap, and she relishes watching as the digitizers of it's eyes become flooded with liquid crystal. Almost giving the machine the appearance of crying.
For a moment... Just one moment. She felt her heart sink. Wondering... Always wondering...
Did it remember?
Even as a machine, is there ever a moment where it remembers what it felt like...
... to be alive?
- - - End of Role-Play Sample - - -
If you've read this far, I commend and appreciate you. I guess that's all I've got for now.
Thank you, sincerely, for taking time to look this over. I do hope the days treat you well, and I look forward to writing with you!
Cheers!
꧁༺ 𝓔𝓸𝓷 ༻꧂
Having started my role-play career when I was but the young age of eight years, (neopets, how I miss thee). Now thirty plus years of age, I guess one could say I've a fair deal of role-play time beneath the belt. Is my grammar perfect? No. Do I have the literacy of a well reknowned English Professor or some Shakespear prodigy? Absolutely not.
I do try, though.
From subtle and tame, to a web of euphoric bliss and deceit - I've been about it all... almost. I am rather open to trying any type of role-play, though do bare with me should there be particular lore/know how that I lack. While I enjoy writing to my hearts content, I will say that I learn at a slower pace than most.
I do ask that RP partners be 21+.
OoC and IC are to be kept separate. If my character has an issue with yours, that does not mean I hold issue with you OoCly!
I can not stress this enough! I am not here to swoon or be swooned. I am here to enjoy stories that we weave together.
Preferences?
A list will do, surely. Simple. Clean.
► 1 v 1
► Character Development
► Romance | Heartbreak
► Dark (To a degree) You may ask me privately should you've any questions, or wish to know the lines of this.
► Paragraph(s) | Descriptive
► Medieval Fantasy, Steampunk, Modern, Futuristic, Post Apocalyiptic, Survival, Western, Sci-Fi, Experimental - The list is endless.
Role-Play Sample
Tousled raven locks lies within a lazy bun. Plumes of smoke twirl about like some unchoreographed dance as the cherry burns. Bright lights have come to replace the shine of the stars. Inhalation of toxic fumes is bittersweet. The neon sign, 'The Unwanted', like a tattoo on her reflection in the window. It's flickering luminescence a depiction of her, her hopes, and her dreams.
Fingertips trail along the metal of the Desert Eagle. A vintage in this day an age. Where ammunition isn't in the form of bullets that dwindle in number... But, instead, the form of wanting to stay alive. Cyborgs. A.I.. They have nearly eradicated the human race as a whole. It's been months since she's seen another.
A zip and zap, a short circuit causing a momentary light in the dark room. How the mind coaxes her gaze to the mangled bodies of the P.H.A. - Patrol and Human Annihilation. A assassination society of machines formed with strict intention to seek the living and end their meager lives by forcing them to become one of them.
The butt of the cigarette tugs to her lower lip as she draws it away. The exhale spilling a haze over lush, red lips.
The weight of the gun now becomes one with her as she lifts it, pressing the length of the barrel against her brow as she closes her eyes. The chill is... Welcoming. Intoxicatingly so. The beat of her heart pounding as a smile graces her features. Momentary relief in the humidity of this damned, dark room.
Faint is the movement of one of the P.H.A. A soft laughter escapes her as she tilts her head back. The brink of insanity only a breath away. Swinging her legs over, that scarlet dress hugs and exaggerates her curves. The sway of her hips and the sound of heels... She could very well be the Devil's advocate. She looks down to the pitiful sight of the machine that tries to carry out its mission even in such a sorry state.
Kneeling down, pressing a soft kiss to the cheek of that synthetic, rubber face. Her words like venom on sultry tone.
"How admirable... Such a good little machine..."
Looking in it's eyes, she presses the gun to the side of it's head. No.. Why waste a precious bullet? With a sigh, she holsters the gun prior to brushing the back of her hand along the machine's busted jawline before she comes to a stand. A little movement, and she places her heel to the throat before stepping down and giving her foot a sharp twist. Wires snap, and she relishes watching as the digitizers of it's eyes become flooded with liquid crystal. Almost giving the machine the appearance of crying.
For a moment... Just one moment. She felt her heart sink. Wondering... Always wondering...
Did it remember?
Even as a machine, is there ever a moment where it remembers what it felt like...
... to be alive?
- - - End of Role-Play Sample - - -
If you've read this far, I commend and appreciate you. I guess that's all I've got for now.
Thank you, sincerely, for taking time to look this over. I do hope the days treat you well, and I look forward to writing with you!
Cheers!
꧁༺ 𝓔𝓸𝓷 ༻꧂
