filloryandfurther
The world is quiet here
I N T R O
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
Hello!
The name's Alicia and I've been roleplaying since the AOL days. So we'll go with a conservative 12 years. Wowza. I'm old enough to rent a car in the U.S. Old enough to remember what a dying modem sounded like when you booted up the internet. So; old. I can usually reply once a day, sometimes multiple times if you catch me at a good time. I certainly don't expect you to match my posting frequency, so please don't let it intimidate you! A few times a week, once or twice a week - it's all good. Probably going to need more activity than only once or twice a month, ya dig?
I'm super easy going, my dudes. Ditching happens, I get it. But if you're not liking the way things are going, let me know and we can work through it. Better to air grievances than let an awesome roleplay die. Then again, I can't stop you from vanishing. But if you have vanished in the past and want to start something up again? Don't hesitate to contact me!
P R E F E R E N C E S
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
↳ please be 18+. it's just more comfortable, yeah?
↳ emails > PMs > threads. I'm not a huge fan of threads, but if that's all you roleplay over I'd be willing to consider it! I'd also be willing to move to tumblr and use the chat system there. I've grown fond of it these last few months, and it's easy for me to access on my phone.
↳ ooc friendly but I don't have programs like discord or skype, sorry! on the flipside, if you're not into ooc chatter? fine by me.
↳ I play male and/or female characters.
↳ doubling only on occasion, but will NPC the hell out of things (DISCLAIMER: this is not me saying I'll only play one character. I'll play oodles if the roleplay calls for it. this is more like - I don't want to create separate posts for each character. I'll have my main character, and then I'll throw in others in my post to keep the story moving. ya dig?)
↳ romantic or platonic whatevs I'm good with either.
↳ m/f or f/f or m/m throw it all at me. though if we go the original route, I'd prefer f/f or m/m.
↳ honestly? I prefer canon characters in a fandom setting. but you'll see that I will do oc x oc and canon x oc in some cases.
↳ quality > quantity. word counts are lame. give me good writing/something to work with, not just walls of text. something that moves the story forward and adds to the plot. if you can do that in one or two paragraphs? awesome! I'd much rather have something to respond to than read 10 paragraphs that don't move the story forward. not that you always have to move the story forward with each reply, or at least not in leaps and bounds.
↳ I'll leave some samples below so you can get a feel for my writing style. Most of them are longer than a typical reply, since they're starters. My replies can range anywhere in the 300-500 word count, sometimes more or less depending on the situation. I don't ever demand you to match a certain word count! Like I said above, the length of the reply really depends on what's going on. I would prefer more than only a few sentences.
Okay, she would give it twenty more seconds, and if she heard no signs of life coming from inside, she would leave. It was a solid plan, one that made Clarke infinitely more comfortable than just standing there. Especially when a mother and her daughter went walking by, the kid pointing out a bird and yeah, they would definitely notice something was wrong with her, kids had a kind of sixth sense about those things. She'd tug on her mom's hand, point to the strange lady on the porch, and say she was a monster, or something evil. Something bad. Clarke started a mental countdown in her head, telling herself that once she reached zero, she'd get back in Bertram's car and head to the nearest grocery store. Where there would probably be more kids waiting to point and spill all her secrets. Thirteen, twelve, eleven-
"The door's open."
Dammit.
Clarke let herself in, moving across the threshold slowly, ready to bolt if she didn't like what she saw on the other side. But no one came running at her with a stake, and she counted that as a good first step. The man on the other side of the door seemed normal enough, though he was hugging an armful of what looked like old artifacts against his chest. One of them was shaped suspiciously like a human femur. But hey, she'd seen and heard of much weirder stuff over the last twelve hours, so she just shrugged it off. "It actually doesn't have anything to do with Bertram," she assured him, not at all surprised at the hostility in Morgan's voice; there was a history here, one Clarke might have been eager to delve into if she didn't have problems of her own. "Well, not technically."
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed as she wondered just how much she should say. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? "I'm a half-vampire. I was turned by some anonymous asshole last night and Bertram found me near a dumpster. He took me in, told me what had happened to me. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, because in a lot of ways I still feel normal, but..." Clarke shrugged, not wanting to dredge up the mess that was her thoughts. "The point is, Bertram helped me." Was that a defensive tone in her voice? Maybe. If only she knew what he liked to eat or drink, she could pick up something special for him at the store. "And he said you might be able to help me too. I want to find the vampire that did this to me and personally thank him." Thank him meaning something else entirely, of course. "Bertram said you might be able to find where this guy goes to ground. I'm hoping you can get me that information without too much trouble."
It was a simple enough request. All Clarke wanted was an address, the rest she could do herself. If this guy couldn't get it, maybe he could point her to someone else who could, and she'd follow the chain all the way down. Revenge had never been an emotion she felt very often, but right now it simmered just below the surface, a living thing that coiled in her stomach, waiting for the right moment to strike.
She raised an eyebrow at the assorted items in Morgan's arms, clearing her throat. "That's quite a collection you've got there." Impressive, and from the way he stood, protectively cradling them against his chest, important and/or illegal.
"The door's open."
Dammit.
Clarke let herself in, moving across the threshold slowly, ready to bolt if she didn't like what she saw on the other side. But no one came running at her with a stake, and she counted that as a good first step. The man on the other side of the door seemed normal enough, though he was hugging an armful of what looked like old artifacts against his chest. One of them was shaped suspiciously like a human femur. But hey, she'd seen and heard of much weirder stuff over the last twelve hours, so she just shrugged it off. "It actually doesn't have anything to do with Bertram," she assured him, not at all surprised at the hostility in Morgan's voice; there was a history here, one Clarke might have been eager to delve into if she didn't have problems of her own. "Well, not technically."
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed as she wondered just how much she should say. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? "I'm a half-vampire. I was turned by some anonymous asshole last night and Bertram found me near a dumpster. He took me in, told me what had happened to me. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, because in a lot of ways I still feel normal, but..." Clarke shrugged, not wanting to dredge up the mess that was her thoughts. "The point is, Bertram helped me." Was that a defensive tone in her voice? Maybe. If only she knew what he liked to eat or drink, she could pick up something special for him at the store. "And he said you might be able to help me too. I want to find the vampire that did this to me and personally thank him." Thank him meaning something else entirely, of course. "Bertram said you might be able to find where this guy goes to ground. I'm hoping you can get me that information without too much trouble."
It was a simple enough request. All Clarke wanted was an address, the rest she could do herself. If this guy couldn't get it, maybe he could point her to someone else who could, and she'd follow the chain all the way down. Revenge had never been an emotion she felt very often, but right now it simmered just below the surface, a living thing that coiled in her stomach, waiting for the right moment to strike.
She raised an eyebrow at the assorted items in Morgan's arms, clearing her throat. "That's quite a collection you've got there." Impressive, and from the way he stood, protectively cradling them against his chest, important and/or illegal.
The morning at the market was slow, as Lyra had expected. But she had no complaints; the tedium gave her an opportunity to catch snatches of conversation as people drifted by, glancing at her wares without stopping. Lothal was part of the Outer Rim Territories, and not many ventured to its far-flung location. Yet that didn't stop the small planet from attracting some unique visitors; one could come across rare items not usually found on the inner planets. Which meant that every time Lyra visited the market she saw someone new, as well as the regulars who owned farms around her.
For the better part of the morning Lyra sold the occasional vegetable or seeds, and kept her ear open for idly gossip at the same time. Most of the time she didn't mind the fact that she had never left her home planet, content to know only her little plot of land and this small town nearby. It was only when she heard the talk of far-flung places, of grand battles and sparkling cities that Lyra felt this ache to see it all. But then she'd hear someone complaining of famine, or slaughter, and she'd be grateful for her simple life.
Right now, Lyra was trying to listen it to a pair of older women as they toddled by. Their skin was a deep blue, and there were raised lines along their arms, swirling patterns that Lyra supposed must mean something to them. She was leaning against her cart, arms folded across her chest, head cocked towards them.
"-heard him say it was the Resistance, and do you know who it's led by?"
"No, who?"
"Princess Leia, can you believe it? Word is they're searching for Skywalker..."
The two women drifted away, and only then did Lyra notice she had a customer. She straightened, cleared her throat, and looked at what the girl was pointing to. "Sorry. They're three credits each. Freshly harvested this morning, so you won't go home only to find them rotting tomorrow." The girl was vaguely familiar with the scars lining her face, but no one Lyra had spoken to before. Her mind was still mostly on what the women had been discussing, how those words had stirred up a memory from her childhood.
For the better part of the morning Lyra sold the occasional vegetable or seeds, and kept her ear open for idly gossip at the same time. Most of the time she didn't mind the fact that she had never left her home planet, content to know only her little plot of land and this small town nearby. It was only when she heard the talk of far-flung places, of grand battles and sparkling cities that Lyra felt this ache to see it all. But then she'd hear someone complaining of famine, or slaughter, and she'd be grateful for her simple life.
Right now, Lyra was trying to listen it to a pair of older women as they toddled by. Their skin was a deep blue, and there were raised lines along their arms, swirling patterns that Lyra supposed must mean something to them. She was leaning against her cart, arms folded across her chest, head cocked towards them.
"-heard him say it was the Resistance, and do you know who it's led by?"
"No, who?"
"Princess Leia, can you believe it? Word is they're searching for Skywalker..."
The two women drifted away, and only then did Lyra notice she had a customer. She straightened, cleared her throat, and looked at what the girl was pointing to. "Sorry. They're three credits each. Freshly harvested this morning, so you won't go home only to find them rotting tomorrow." The girl was vaguely familiar with the scars lining her face, but no one Lyra had spoken to before. Her mind was still mostly on what the women had been discussing, how those words had stirred up a memory from her childhood.
"Git yer boots off the table, Wilkes. I eat there."
"My boots are cleaner'n anything you stuff in that mouth of yours, Bowler."
"You got that right!"
James Wilkes raised his eyes from the table in question at the third voice, attempting to decipher the shadowy bowels of the jail room, but he couldn't make out its owner. "I'll drink to that." Raising his glass of brandy in offering to the faceless ally, James knocked it back in one swallow, setting it down on the table with a self-satisfied sigh. When he finally turned his attention back to the sheriff it was with an amused smile, taking his time to place each boot back on the dusty floorboards of the jailhouse. "There now, all's as well as it can be for you and your eating habits. These killings, on the other hand..."
"Found two in their beds, throats slashed just like they were over in Blueridge." The sheriff's hands settled over his belt buckle, his broad chest expanding so that the buttons on his shirt were in danger of popping off. James eyed them with trepidation before turning his attention to the sheriff's sun-weathered face, trying not to focus too much on the food crumbs that clung to the man's bushy mustache. "Ain't no rhyme or reason, 'least nothin' my boys can puzzle out."
Same as Blueridge. Same as Fairbanks. Same as every damn city James had visited over the last couple of months. And now Calico, with the only similarity between them all being the method of the murder. There had been rumblings from Pinkerton that the killings were connected in some way or another, that there was a thin thread running through them, but James had yet to come to any strong conclusion himself. He'd circled the idea of revenge, prodding it every once in a while, but had never settled with it.
He wasn't a detective, and under normal circumstances he'd have moved on to some other bounty, gotten himself a quick spot of cash. But this one had quite the price on their head, and he wasn't about to give up because the going got a little difficult. Not when he'd tracked them over four months and twice as many towns, always two steps behind.
"How long ago were they found?" he asked, scratching at the rough stubble near his chin. There was some artistic flair to the way he wore his facial hair, but it never looked like he tried too hard. These days it was dotted with some grey here and there, something else to remind him of the long nights behind him.
"Just yesterday morning. We got - hey, where you going? I haven't laid everything out for you yet."
James had stood, setting his hat back on his head and pulling the brim low. He went towards the door, looking out at the darkening sky, the streaks of purple shot through with pink. When he turned back towards the sheriff he was smiling, teeth white against the dark tan of his face. "And I'm sure you've got some mighty interesting things to tell me, sheriff. But I'm guessin' so do the folks at the saloon down the way, and I can get as many drinks as I want there." With that he turned on his heel, stepping out into the dusky evening of Calico.
It wasn't a large town in its own right, only a single thoroughfare with storefronts crowding in on either side. Some houses lay beyond the main street, simple dwellings surrounded by brush and cacti, but most were falling into disrepair, home to more critters than people. Calico was a town in motion, with nothing save for gambling, gossip, and good drinks trapping people for a night or two before they moved on to some place like Blueridge, with its cobbled streets and air of self-importance. James had spent a few unpleasant days there himself, and though he'd met some interesting characters in smokey backrooms, he'd been much happier on the trail. Especially since his Fox Trotter mare, Sadie, didn't trouble his thoughts with rowdy words.
Tonight, though, he'd have to trade the quiet company of his horse for the din of Calico's lone saloon. Because alcohol had the handy ability to loosen tongues where they might not wag so much in front of a stranger. And with the corpses hardly grown cold, the few locals would be of a single mind tonight.
So it was to this shining beacon James ambled, tipping his hat to those he passed, an unlit cigar caught between his teeth. No doubt he wasn't the only one of the trail of this particular killer, but he'd be damned if he wasn't the most persistent.
"My boots are cleaner'n anything you stuff in that mouth of yours, Bowler."
"You got that right!"
James Wilkes raised his eyes from the table in question at the third voice, attempting to decipher the shadowy bowels of the jail room, but he couldn't make out its owner. "I'll drink to that." Raising his glass of brandy in offering to the faceless ally, James knocked it back in one swallow, setting it down on the table with a self-satisfied sigh. When he finally turned his attention back to the sheriff it was with an amused smile, taking his time to place each boot back on the dusty floorboards of the jailhouse. "There now, all's as well as it can be for you and your eating habits. These killings, on the other hand..."
"Found two in their beds, throats slashed just like they were over in Blueridge." The sheriff's hands settled over his belt buckle, his broad chest expanding so that the buttons on his shirt were in danger of popping off. James eyed them with trepidation before turning his attention to the sheriff's sun-weathered face, trying not to focus too much on the food crumbs that clung to the man's bushy mustache. "Ain't no rhyme or reason, 'least nothin' my boys can puzzle out."
Same as Blueridge. Same as Fairbanks. Same as every damn city James had visited over the last couple of months. And now Calico, with the only similarity between them all being the method of the murder. There had been rumblings from Pinkerton that the killings were connected in some way or another, that there was a thin thread running through them, but James had yet to come to any strong conclusion himself. He'd circled the idea of revenge, prodding it every once in a while, but had never settled with it.
He wasn't a detective, and under normal circumstances he'd have moved on to some other bounty, gotten himself a quick spot of cash. But this one had quite the price on their head, and he wasn't about to give up because the going got a little difficult. Not when he'd tracked them over four months and twice as many towns, always two steps behind.
"How long ago were they found?" he asked, scratching at the rough stubble near his chin. There was some artistic flair to the way he wore his facial hair, but it never looked like he tried too hard. These days it was dotted with some grey here and there, something else to remind him of the long nights behind him.
"Just yesterday morning. We got - hey, where you going? I haven't laid everything out for you yet."
James had stood, setting his hat back on his head and pulling the brim low. He went towards the door, looking out at the darkening sky, the streaks of purple shot through with pink. When he turned back towards the sheriff he was smiling, teeth white against the dark tan of his face. "And I'm sure you've got some mighty interesting things to tell me, sheriff. But I'm guessin' so do the folks at the saloon down the way, and I can get as many drinks as I want there." With that he turned on his heel, stepping out into the dusky evening of Calico.
It wasn't a large town in its own right, only a single thoroughfare with storefronts crowding in on either side. Some houses lay beyond the main street, simple dwellings surrounded by brush and cacti, but most were falling into disrepair, home to more critters than people. Calico was a town in motion, with nothing save for gambling, gossip, and good drinks trapping people for a night or two before they moved on to some place like Blueridge, with its cobbled streets and air of self-importance. James had spent a few unpleasant days there himself, and though he'd met some interesting characters in smokey backrooms, he'd been much happier on the trail. Especially since his Fox Trotter mare, Sadie, didn't trouble his thoughts with rowdy words.
Tonight, though, he'd have to trade the quiet company of his horse for the din of Calico's lone saloon. Because alcohol had the handy ability to loosen tongues where they might not wag so much in front of a stranger. And with the corpses hardly grown cold, the few locals would be of a single mind tonight.
So it was to this shining beacon James ambled, tipping his hat to those he passed, an unlit cigar caught between his teeth. No doubt he wasn't the only one of the trail of this particular killer, but he'd be damned if he wasn't the most persistent.
The ground was nothing like Clarke had imagined it.
She'd drawn it too many times to count, sketches filling the walls of her cell, forests and waterfalls and things she had never seen but had heard about in stories. Impossible things. She'd like to believe them, sure, but in the back of her mind she saw a dead world, everything laid to waste after the bombs and nuclear fallout. And so when she had been strapped in that dropship with ninety-nine other criminals she had been terrified, figuring they'd break up on landing, or they would open the doors and die on the poisonous air. But no, they had survived the landing (well, most of them) and when those doors had opened, Clarke had smelled life instead of death.
Everything had been so green, so alive, at complete odds with the cold, clean lines of the Ark. Clarke had wandered around in a daze those first moments, her senses overwhelmed, her thoughts sluggish after so many days locked up. Too quickly, though, she'd realized that though their landing had been lucky, it was no where near where they should be. Clarke had consulted the map, showed Finn just how far away Mount Weather was, and knew they needed to head there as soon as possible. But darkness had come on quicker than she'd anticipated, and so Clarke and Finn decided to head out in the morning, hoping others would join once they realized the supplies they needed to keep them alive were all the way up another mountain.
The next morning dawned grey and overcast, and Clarke found herself hoping it was a sign of rain. Unless the rain was poison. The thought propelled her out of the dropship, the need to get to Mount Weather trumping her desire to curl back up on her pile of blankets. The first thing she saw was a pile of wristbands, too many of them, and Clarke's thoughts turned to Bellamy Blake. He wasn't supposed to be here, not when he was over eighteen, but his sister had ended up on the drop ship, and somehow he'd gotten a spot too. He had convinced most of the kids to remove their wristbands, that nothing good could come of those still on the Ark knowing they had survived. Clarke had managed to keep hers, as had Finn and a handful of others.
What were they thinking up there, watching their vitals flat-lining? Was her mom worried hers would be next?
"Ready to go?" Finn came to stand next to her, a pack slung over his shoulder, holding out a second. Clarke took it with a grateful nod. "Monty and Jasper want to come with us. I figured we could use all the hands we can get."
"Yeah," Clarke replied with another nod, pulling out her map and compass, turning to face the direction of Mount Weather. "We should get moving if we want to get there before dark." With that she set off, towards the makeshift entrance to the camp; the kids had already started to build a wall out of fallen trees and metal from the drop ship, protection from whatever animals were lurking out there.
But someone was already there, and it was the last person Clarke wanted to see right now. She rolled her eyes as she came to a stop in front of Bellamy, arms crossed over her chest. "What do you want, Bellamy? If you're coming with us, we're leaving right now. If you're staying here, step aside and let us through. You can help the kids gather supplies while we're gone." They'd need food and fresh water until they figured out what state Mount Weather was in, and right now Clarke didn't want to deal with Bellamy's attitude on such a long trek.
She'd drawn it too many times to count, sketches filling the walls of her cell, forests and waterfalls and things she had never seen but had heard about in stories. Impossible things. She'd like to believe them, sure, but in the back of her mind she saw a dead world, everything laid to waste after the bombs and nuclear fallout. And so when she had been strapped in that dropship with ninety-nine other criminals she had been terrified, figuring they'd break up on landing, or they would open the doors and die on the poisonous air. But no, they had survived the landing (well, most of them) and when those doors had opened, Clarke had smelled life instead of death.
Everything had been so green, so alive, at complete odds with the cold, clean lines of the Ark. Clarke had wandered around in a daze those first moments, her senses overwhelmed, her thoughts sluggish after so many days locked up. Too quickly, though, she'd realized that though their landing had been lucky, it was no where near where they should be. Clarke had consulted the map, showed Finn just how far away Mount Weather was, and knew they needed to head there as soon as possible. But darkness had come on quicker than she'd anticipated, and so Clarke and Finn decided to head out in the morning, hoping others would join once they realized the supplies they needed to keep them alive were all the way up another mountain.
The next morning dawned grey and overcast, and Clarke found herself hoping it was a sign of rain. Unless the rain was poison. The thought propelled her out of the dropship, the need to get to Mount Weather trumping her desire to curl back up on her pile of blankets. The first thing she saw was a pile of wristbands, too many of them, and Clarke's thoughts turned to Bellamy Blake. He wasn't supposed to be here, not when he was over eighteen, but his sister had ended up on the drop ship, and somehow he'd gotten a spot too. He had convinced most of the kids to remove their wristbands, that nothing good could come of those still on the Ark knowing they had survived. Clarke had managed to keep hers, as had Finn and a handful of others.
What were they thinking up there, watching their vitals flat-lining? Was her mom worried hers would be next?
"Ready to go?" Finn came to stand next to her, a pack slung over his shoulder, holding out a second. Clarke took it with a grateful nod. "Monty and Jasper want to come with us. I figured we could use all the hands we can get."
"Yeah," Clarke replied with another nod, pulling out her map and compass, turning to face the direction of Mount Weather. "We should get moving if we want to get there before dark." With that she set off, towards the makeshift entrance to the camp; the kids had already started to build a wall out of fallen trees and metal from the drop ship, protection from whatever animals were lurking out there.
But someone was already there, and it was the last person Clarke wanted to see right now. She rolled her eyes as she came to a stop in front of Bellamy, arms crossed over her chest. "What do you want, Bellamy? If you're coming with us, we're leaving right now. If you're staying here, step aside and let us through. You can help the kids gather supplies while we're gone." They'd need food and fresh water until they figured out what state Mount Weather was in, and right now Clarke didn't want to deal with Bellamy's attitude on such a long trek.
R O L E P L A Y S
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
bold = who I'd like to play
note: the pairings listed aren't always for romantic purposes. some are awesome as platonic.
craving: the 100, the magicians, agents of shield, original ideas
✚ The 100
I’m up for playing in the canon setting, with any season as a jumping off point. We can do stuff with the Grounders, Mount Weather, the City of Light/ALIE, start from the very beginning of the show and create something entirely new, or continue on from the season four finale because COME ON. That was an insane cliffhanger.
I’m also more than willing to play with AU ideas: fake dating, cop/delinquent, coffee shop, as well as canon AU ideas, like grounder!/king!/commander!Bellamy and all that good stuff.
Bellamy x Clarke (give me slice of life Bellarke and I will love you forever)
Bellamy x OC (will double as another canon!)
Bellamy x Murphy
Bellamy x Raven
Murphy x Clarke
Murphy x OC (will double as another canon!)
Murphy x Emori
Lexa x Clarke
✚ Preacher
*grabby hands* Give me a Cassidy and I will love you forever. I haven't read the comics at all, so this will be based on the AMC TV show. Don't have a plot in mind, but maybe something set before Cass hooks up with Tulip and Jessie? I dunno we can brainstorm but I need this Irish vampire motherfucker in my life okay??
Proinsias Cassidy x OC
✚ The Magicians
Either OCs or canon. More based on the TV show than the books because I prefer the show tbh. I'm looking for a world full of magic, the adult version of Harry Potter where spells are super complicated and there's a lot of death and danger and fucked-up shit. Give me dark and gritty magic and people giving their all to save themselves and their friends.
If we're going with canon verse, the pairings I'd be most interested in are:
Eliot x Quentin
Julia x Kady
Quentin x OC
✚ Agents of SHIELD
I'm really only looking for one pairing which I've listed below, and I'm going to be pretty picky about it. But if you can give me this pairing, then awesome. Given the nature of the pairing, it certainly won't be all sunshine and rainbows.
Skye/Daisy x Ward
✚ True Blood
It's been such a loooong ass time since I watched this show, but I really enjoy the whole vibe of it. I can double for this one and trust me, my female character will not be a damsel in distress.
Eric Northman x OC mortal or vampire
✚ The Man in the High Castle
I finished the second season, so we can either start the roleplay from there, or kind of make up our own events based on certain other plot point. Because I'm Pure Trash™, the pairing I want most is:
Joe Blake x OC
✚ Push
This poor movie doesn't get the recognition it deserves! I do have a small plot here, and I'd love to get something cooking.
Nick x OC
✚ Originals
As you've probably realized, all of the above are fandoms. That's really what I prefer to roleplay, but I'm not entirely opposed to original roleplays, either. They've just gotta have a good hook/plot to keep me interested. I tend to stay away from slice-of-life stuff, but there are certain pairings/scenarios I don't mind. I like the darker, grittier stuff in general. Apocalypse, vampires, mermaids...really, if you have an idea, it doesn't hurt to ask!
I have a few slice-of-life pairings below with some ideas, but we can always change it up to make something we would both enjoy.
► So I'm making my way through the Delirium trilogy by Lauren Oliver and I LOVE the premise of the books: that love has been deemed a disease. The U.S. has created a cure (an operation they do on everyone when they turn 18, sometimes earlier if kids show signs of infection) to eradicate the disease of love, which they call amor deliria nervosa. Cities are walled off and the Wilds have been left to seed. The Invalids (the uncured) are said to not exist, but they do, in pockets and homesteads in the Wilds.
If you're interested in doing this, let me know and I can explain more of the premise to you! There are a lot of possibilities with this one, and I'm looking to do m/m or m/f for this one!
► One of the slice of life pairings I'm looking for is cop/delinquent. Muse A's dad died when he was young, his mom ran out. He's been shuffled from foster home to foster home, and has spent many a night in the local police station's holding cell. Muse B is a fresh out of the police academy and gets assigned to the town where Muse A lives. All the other officers are beyond glad because finally someone else has to deal with the kid.
I'd like to play Muse A, and this will be m/m. Looking for a more angsty tone here, with that forbidden love angle thrown in, and doses of fluff.
► I'm also up for a good and fluffy slice-of-life blind/not blind pairing, If you've seen the movie If I Had Wings (which I'm guessing you haven't since it's a hella obscure Canadian film on Netflix), I'd like to do something similar. High school setting, Muse A as the blind character is an athlete, a swimmer or runner or something, or just a regular student and not an athlete at all and they need to work with Muse B in some way. Maybe they're from a rival school and they compete, or maybe they're a new transfer and has some run-ins with Muse A.
I'm looking to play Muse A, and I'd also like this one to be m/m. Going for more fluffy, sweet vibes with this one.
► I think it'd also be fun to do something either set in high school or college where Muse A is gay, but Muse doesn't know that they themselves are. Maybe Muse B has always gone out with girls, but they're not sure why it never seems fulfilling. And maybe both characters are kind of opposite - one is more into sports, the other on the quiet, nerdy side. But somehow or another they end up needing to work together and things start to develop from there.
Lots of possibilities with this one! The scenarios are endless, really. Looking more for m/m for this one as well, but I wouldn't be opposed to f/f.
C O N T A C T
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
interested? have questions? want to discuss plots? quote me here or pm me, pretty please!
!
