Fearless Sissy
the best strategy is to be dead already
tl;drPatience is my favorite virtue
Communication is key; work with me
I, by far, prefer to play OCs
status: tentatively looking
Communication is key; work with me
I, by far, prefer to play OCs
status: tentatively looking
style and genres
Traditionally, I have been involved mostly with high as well as low fantasy roleplays. I also like the steampunk aesthetic. As for fandom roleplays, there is a 99% chance I will not do it unless I am familiar with the fandom in question. I just don't think I could go in-depth. On a similar note, I am a bit iffy on us playing canon characters unless I know you well. There are very, very few exceptions, but I will always prefer OCs to canons, even in a long-since established setting. This is not to say that I don't think there are people out there who can't play canon characters really well. I just often find that people have very differing perceptions of canon characters, and so I would rather not have them in a roleplay as much more than NPCs or off-hand mention characters.I like things with a different take on something well known, as well as settings where things are just a teensy bit out of the ordinary, e.g. slice of life witchcraft.
personal
I would like you to work on the plot with me. I think it's boring if I know where everything is going, and it makes writing more like work if I need to plan all the details. So please, please, please - work with me. Throw some wild ideas at me; surprise me IC! And I'm always up for some brainstorming.When I look at the pace of roleplays here, I am most definitely in the 'snail pace' category. If weeks pass between posts, but we're still talking OOC, the roleplay is alive and kicking in my eyes! It works both ways; I am really not a very demanding person in terms of posting, as long as you please tell me if you won't be doing so for a while. A little heads up is always appreciated, and I will do the same for you in return; I promise I will do my very best. To wrap this up, if you insist on playing a Mary Sue, try to force things I am not okay with, and/or consistently give me very little in response, well, then I predict our roleplay won't last very long at all.
I'm in GMT+1 and currently trying to figure this whole Being An Adult thing out, which is pretty hectic endeavor at the moment. I, gasp, live on my own and am in college, so it's safe to say I'm a good deal busier than I was before I took that drastic, life-changing step. If you'd like a reply before within a certain amount of time, please tell me. If you don't put anything, I'll assume you're okay with whatever pace we have. I'll tell you if I'm not feeling our roleplay at all anymore, pinky promise.
I try not to do oneliners, but I don't mind short posts. I generally always try to give my partner something more to work with than just pure reaction to what my character(s) just said. If you are unsure of what to do, feel free to get in touch.
Extreme advances in the plot obviously cannot happen in every single post, but pure dialogue is dull to me. Thankfully, RP isn't real life, and that means I can skip all the the boring smalltalk! That's not to say I don't like dialogue at all, but I would much rather have it as a collaborated part of a post, rather than ten posts back and forth that are all play and no work, if you know what I mean.
Though fistfights and Mexican standoffs can be fun, I am a much bigger fan of the non-violent kind of action. In a roleplay where everyone and their mother knows how to use a gun, I will be playing the character who doesn't know which end is the dangerous one. I feel like I am improving my action-writing, though.
As an aside to all of this, I don't typically use faceclaims/playbys for my characters. I have a very specific mental image of them most of the time, so unless I happen to stumble upon the perfect picture - well, I probably won't have one. I far prefer written descriptions, but I won't object to pictures if you like that better.
So this got really long; I'm impressed if you read it all. Take some samples of my past writing down here as a thank you to the people who have remained interested after all this!
"That'll be ten-fifty, sir!"
Alannah smiled brightly at the man opposite her on the other side of the register, who gave her a polite smile in return as he dug out the cash needed, plus some he took his time to elaborately drop into the mason jar labeled 'tips!! (:' while maintaining eye contact with her. The girl kept smiling until the bell on the door chimed, signaling his departure. She turned to make a face her co-worker. "Yeeuugh. Creepy."
Dan mimicked her expression in agreement. "Your face will eventually get stuck like that, y'know."
"No, it won't."
"Just because it hasn't for the last two years you've worked here, doesn't mean it won't eventually."
Alannah smacked his arm. "Hey, it's not like I like not having a future."
It had been - ages, truly, since she had last done anything she considered 'moving on with life'. Her life had been a whirl until about a year and a half ago where she had broken up with her demi-god boyfriend. It had been quite the adventure, but eventually, it just hadn't worked out. She had done okay, though, all things considered. She didn't have an education beyond high school, but she had managed to hold down a job, and had also gotten involved with the maintenance of a healthy supernatural society in her area. It felt comforting to know that she did even a little good for others when she so badly wanted to do something for herself.
Alannah smiled brightly at the man opposite her on the other side of the register, who gave her a polite smile in return as he dug out the cash needed, plus some he took his time to elaborately drop into the mason jar labeled 'tips!! (:' while maintaining eye contact with her. The girl kept smiling until the bell on the door chimed, signaling his departure. She turned to make a face her co-worker. "Yeeuugh. Creepy."
Dan mimicked her expression in agreement. "Your face will eventually get stuck like that, y'know."
"No, it won't."
"Just because it hasn't for the last two years you've worked here, doesn't mean it won't eventually."
Alannah smacked his arm. "Hey, it's not like I like not having a future."
It had been - ages, truly, since she had last done anything she considered 'moving on with life'. Her life had been a whirl until about a year and a half ago where she had broken up with her demi-god boyfriend. It had been quite the adventure, but eventually, it just hadn't worked out. She had done okay, though, all things considered. She didn't have an education beyond high school, but she had managed to hold down a job, and had also gotten involved with the maintenance of a healthy supernatural society in her area. It felt comforting to know that she did even a little good for others when she so badly wanted to do something for herself.
'You' is the name of my character.
You was - taken aback, to put it mildly - by her otherwise calm and collected friend's emotional outburst and rejection of comfort. Her own indignant accusations were lost to Xiao's powerful voice. It later struck her that that had probably been for the best. Her face was stony as she got up from her kneeling position and watched Pip take Ro Pan with him deep into the bowels of the earth. She would never admit it, but watching Xiao beg the animal not to take her brother with it was somehow worse than him actually dying.
You had nothing to carry with her, save the rolled up blanket she slept with. Packing up and leaving was a normal thing, and it made it easier for her that she did not have to go back somewhere to collect odd, useless memorabilia or things like flint and steel. She clenched her fists, feeling the familiar warmth that was more than just body heat gather in her palms. With a glare at everyone as if they were personally responsible for the tragedy that had just happened, You began following Xiao at a brisk pace.
The Earth Kingdom city soon vanished behind her. Smooth, tiled streets became dusty roads, and then just dust. You kept her silence and her eyes fixed on the dot that was Xiao. With her long legs, it was not difficult to keep herself a bit apart from the rest of the former Avatar's entourage, which was now just... an entourage. Of no one. As solitude enveloped her, unseen tears began to prick at You's eyes. It was just so - oh, she hated herself for thinking it - so unfair, all of it. Ro Pan dying, Xiao blaming them all, none of them having had the chance to do anything... She tossed her unimpressive mane, squared her shoulders and kept moving, like she always had.
You was - taken aback, to put it mildly - by her otherwise calm and collected friend's emotional outburst and rejection of comfort. Her own indignant accusations were lost to Xiao's powerful voice. It later struck her that that had probably been for the best. Her face was stony as she got up from her kneeling position and watched Pip take Ro Pan with him deep into the bowels of the earth. She would never admit it, but watching Xiao beg the animal not to take her brother with it was somehow worse than him actually dying.
You had nothing to carry with her, save the rolled up blanket she slept with. Packing up and leaving was a normal thing, and it made it easier for her that she did not have to go back somewhere to collect odd, useless memorabilia or things like flint and steel. She clenched her fists, feeling the familiar warmth that was more than just body heat gather in her palms. With a glare at everyone as if they were personally responsible for the tragedy that had just happened, You began following Xiao at a brisk pace.
The Earth Kingdom city soon vanished behind her. Smooth, tiled streets became dusty roads, and then just dust. You kept her silence and her eyes fixed on the dot that was Xiao. With her long legs, it was not difficult to keep herself a bit apart from the rest of the former Avatar's entourage, which was now just... an entourage. Of no one. As solitude enveloped her, unseen tears began to prick at You's eyes. It was just so - oh, she hated herself for thinking it - so unfair, all of it. Ro Pan dying, Xiao blaming them all, none of them having had the chance to do anything... She tossed her unimpressive mane, squared her shoulders and kept moving, like she always had.
Only the interruption of the Reaper prevented Vivienne's facade from cracking completely. As it was, the interjection prevented a carefully bright expression from turning into one of flaming hatred, and instead one of mild amusement. Calm down, Mattie, she thought at him. You don't want our cargo to hear you losing your debatable control of yourself. She was mocking him; by now she knew no other way to address him. Still, there was a faint note of concern hidden in the spite. She had witnessed the loss of control once. She had no desire to do so again.
L, the Reaper, maintained their focus on Mathias, but to Vivienne's delight, took the time to whisper a faint "Bonjour, mademoiselle. Always a pleasure to see you," at her. Her smile widened just a hair in response, as her face was still clearly visible to Oliver, and no matter how impossibly naïve the individual seemed to be, she did not want to risk coming across as a weirdo hearing voices when none were speaking. She settled for half a glance backwards at her boss and the black wisps in the periphery of her vision. "Are you coming? I fully expect you to pay for all our milkshakes!" She spoke loudly in a sing-song tone, keeping the mood light. Even if Oliver could not actually see the Reapers, it was not uncommon for Mortals to feel a little instinctively uneasy around them. They were so fortunate he was so dumb and easy to distract.
"Language, bro. This man just died. I know they can't hear you, but you might wanna tone it down a bit, yeah?"
Asher - tall, bald, and with his usual bored expression - had taken the chance to address the fallen angel directly when the police officer had returned to his car for a moment. He didn't know why, didn't much care, except that it was a golden opportunity to talk to another angel. If he was honest with himself, he missed it sometimes. Humans were shit. Earth was shit. The only reason he was here was because Heaven was shittier and he had no desire to go to Hell. The students at the school where he worked as a janitor told him that sometimes. It always made him feel a mixture of amusement and sadness for the kind of people who taught children to speak like that.
Folding his arms and leaning against a red brick wall, he jerked his head in the direction of the corpse. "Sticking around to help them wipe up, or feeling guilty?" The corners of his mouth turned even more South than usual as he turned his back to Trent, the corpse, the police, crossed his chest and disappeared down the alleyway he came from. His wanderings around the city never achieved anything, and every death of a vagrant only made him more bitter. Guns. Who the fuck thought those things were a good idea?
It was a dream come true. Stewart uttering the words "private", "flat", and "empty" and directing them at her was something Charlie had only imagined in the shower on occasion. She could feel her resolve melt away. God, he smelled good. It was a little weird that he was preventing her from shutting her door, but he must really have wanted to talk to her. She had the sudden, pleasant realization that she was somehow important to this black, British Adonis.
"Okay," she said breathlessly as she opened the door and took a step out in the hallway. "I'll be right back, Lewis." Apparently, not wearing pants didn't matter so much anymore. In the back of her mind, a little voice congratulated her on having picked out matching underwear for once. That voice was quickly silenced as Stewart smiled at her again and held out his hand for her to take, accompanying it with half a gentlemanly bow. She took it without hesitation, completely mesmerized. "Be right back..." She mumbled as Stewart began leading her upstairs, completely missing him turning around and smirking at Lewis as they ascended.
L, the Reaper, maintained their focus on Mathias, but to Vivienne's delight, took the time to whisper a faint "Bonjour, mademoiselle. Always a pleasure to see you," at her. Her smile widened just a hair in response, as her face was still clearly visible to Oliver, and no matter how impossibly naïve the individual seemed to be, she did not want to risk coming across as a weirdo hearing voices when none were speaking. She settled for half a glance backwards at her boss and the black wisps in the periphery of her vision. "Are you coming? I fully expect you to pay for all our milkshakes!" She spoke loudly in a sing-song tone, keeping the mood light. Even if Oliver could not actually see the Reapers, it was not uncommon for Mortals to feel a little instinctively uneasy around them. They were so fortunate he was so dumb and easy to distract.
"Language, bro. This man just died. I know they can't hear you, but you might wanna tone it down a bit, yeah?"
Asher - tall, bald, and with his usual bored expression - had taken the chance to address the fallen angel directly when the police officer had returned to his car for a moment. He didn't know why, didn't much care, except that it was a golden opportunity to talk to another angel. If he was honest with himself, he missed it sometimes. Humans were shit. Earth was shit. The only reason he was here was because Heaven was shittier and he had no desire to go to Hell. The students at the school where he worked as a janitor told him that sometimes. It always made him feel a mixture of amusement and sadness for the kind of people who taught children to speak like that.
Folding his arms and leaning against a red brick wall, he jerked his head in the direction of the corpse. "Sticking around to help them wipe up, or feeling guilty?" The corners of his mouth turned even more South than usual as he turned his back to Trent, the corpse, the police, crossed his chest and disappeared down the alleyway he came from. His wanderings around the city never achieved anything, and every death of a vagrant only made him more bitter. Guns. Who the fuck thought those things were a good idea?
It was a dream come true. Stewart uttering the words "private", "flat", and "empty" and directing them at her was something Charlie had only imagined in the shower on occasion. She could feel her resolve melt away. God, he smelled good. It was a little weird that he was preventing her from shutting her door, but he must really have wanted to talk to her. She had the sudden, pleasant realization that she was somehow important to this black, British Adonis.
"Okay," she said breathlessly as she opened the door and took a step out in the hallway. "I'll be right back, Lewis." Apparently, not wearing pants didn't matter so much anymore. In the back of her mind, a little voice congratulated her on having picked out matching underwear for once. That voice was quickly silenced as Stewart smiled at her again and held out his hand for her to take, accompanying it with half a gentlemanly bow. She took it without hesitation, completely mesmerized. "Be right back..." She mumbled as Stewart began leading her upstairs, completely missing him turning around and smirking at Lewis as they ascended.
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