Illusory
𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳
♪ Let me hear your brain talk, your brain talk
I'M SURE YOU'LL UNDERSTAND MY POINT OF VIEW, WE KNOW EACH OTHER MENTALLY.
Hello curious stranger!
If you’re looking for a partner, you came to the right place as I am as well.
I write as a part-time hobby (among other things) and I think RP helps me to flex my creative muscles and get brain training. I’m hoping to find someone to train with, a collaborator, a co-creator, a writing buddy on a more long term basis. Let’s be friends, my dear reader. Hopefully, we can chat outside RP too. I do have a discord for OOC chats and plotting, if that’s your preference.
I’m more craving one on one role plays at the moment just because they are easier to manage. I do have responsibilities outside the forum so I’d appreciate your patience when it comes to my response. I’d more than gladly extend the same courtesy as well. I try my best to respond once a week at least, if not more. I do communicate if I’m going to need more time.
I write in multiple paragraphs, third person, past-tense format. And try my best to produce something of creative substance.
Side Note: I personally don’t find labels useful because I don’t think categorizing writing can fully encompass someone’s creative abilities or attest to their future writing potential. It seems a little divisive, unwelcoming, and constricting. Everyone’s writing is unique and I’m happy to celebrate it. But that’s just me. c:
Feel free to read the samples below to see what my typical responses look like.
More specific RP Preferences are listed below for convenience:
- ➊ I love plotting. It provides such a great starting point and a good structure for what direction an RP will go in. Of course, as writing often goes, there’ll be unexpected twists and turns, but that’s what makes it fun.
- ∘ I do like sub-plots as well. If you want to explore a familial dynamic on a save-the-world sort of plot, it’s fine and encouraged. I like writing things on multiple levels. It makes the story more immersive and multi-dimensional.
- ➋ I like to diversify my characters in age, gender, race, class, and etc. Definitely LGBTQ+ friendly for anyone wondering. I enjoy character-driven RPs the most. I really try to delve into the psyche of the character that I’m playing. I also can play more than one character, but cap it at three maximum, because I do put a lot of thought into them and more than three might get messy, crazy, or both.
- ∘ I also like relationships of all kinds. I encourage platonic, familial, and adversarial roles as much as romantic ones. Though romance, for me, would need to be paced. I don’t usually write romances as a main plot point and usually allow it to develop as a sub-plot naturally.
- ∘ Also, I don’t limit my characters to simply humans or beings that are human adjacent. I love playing non-humans, I.E. woodland creatures, mythical beasts, a gross amalgamation of flesh and metal (aka some Franken-monster). My fave non-human OC is actually Sir Rocco el pollo loco. Let me know if you ever want to meet him. Lol.
- ➌ I don’t mind ghosting. It happens, of course, if you can’t continue, I understand. I would appreciate a little notice, but I don’t press on such matters. It’s cool if you want to drop an RP. Maybe we can even come up with a new one together.
- ➍ I write responses either in threads or private messages. I, unfortunately, don’t do Discord RPs just because I’d like to be able to post my responses in one go. As I mentioned above, I’m all for communicating on Discord for plotting and such.
- ➎ For those concerned about age, I’m considered an adult now, no longer a minor (at least in most parts of the world), but I have no preference in age when it comes to my partners. So long as there’s a level of understanding and maturity to the topics discussed, I don’t mind my partner’s age. If you’ve actually read up until this part, first, thank you. You deserve a million cookies or your pastry of choice. Second, please include chameleon in your response just so I know we are on the same page, friend.
- ➏ Most importantly, please abide by RPNation’s Terms of Service/Rules. I don’t write extreme gore or explicit scenes and if such a situation would arise between our characters (in terms of the latter), I would simply fade to black or skip to a morning after scenario.
- ➊ I love plotting. It provides such a great starting point and a good structure for what direction an RP will go in. Of course, as writing often goes, there’ll be unexpected twists and turns, but that’s what makes it fun.
My favourite...
- Genres: Futuristic, Science Fiction, Cyberpunk, Fantasy, Adventure, Action, Comedy, Mystery, Thriller, Supernatural, Paranormal/Horror, Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian, Time-Travel, Noir/Detective Fiction, Modern, Slice of Life, Fandoms
- Fandoms: OA**, The Walking Dead, Into the Badlands, The 100, The Umbrella Academy, Westworld, Altered Carbon, Pacific Rim, Assassin’s Creed (Played up until the end of Ezio’s story line, Revelations)
- Side Note: ** = craving to write, possible plot idea; In fandoms, I'm also more inclined to write an original character rather than play a canon, but I don't limit my partner in that regard. If you want to play a canon, play them to your heart's content.
- Character Tropes: Anti-Hero, Alien, Android, Bohemian/Flower Child, Buddy Cop, Brooding Detective, Career Criminal, Champion/Chosen One, Cheerleader, Conscience/Sweetheart, Creature/Monster, Dumb Muscle, Fall Guy/Girl/Scapegoat, Femme Fatale, Final Guy/Girl (in a Horror setting), Gentle Giant, Gentleman/woman Thief, God/Goddess, Imposter, Jock, Loner, Loser, Loyal Side-kick/Companion, Mad Scientist, Magician/Shaman, Mentor, Nerd/Intellectual/Bookish, Nurse, Outlaw, Peacekeeper, Rebel, Rockstar/Musician, Seeker, Storyteller, Super Soldier, Tomboy, Tragic Hero, Trickster, Turncoat/Traitor, Villain, Vigilante, Weirdo/Oddball, Wise Fool
- Plots: I'm super open to hearing your original ideas and plots, if you'd like to share them. Here are some of mine. c:
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OA is fantastic show! I'm quite sad that it won't continue, but I really want to explore the story here.
Quick synopsis of the show: A young woman, OA/Prairie, suddenly resurfaces after her disappearance. She has scars of seemingly random symbols across her body. She explains that she is a traveller, a dimension traveller who can hop from dimension to dimension in search of the truth. She says she's in need of help to save her friends; however, she would need to recruit 5 other people who can replicate movements that allow her to travel to another dimension. It's also known that NDEs (Near Death Experience) are the link between dimensions.
For this plot, I'm really looking to play another traveller. Someone who's previously been a missing child, who's had a NDE, and have been found by a "scientist" similar to Hap (a character on the show) who raised her to study dimension hopping. She's been raised as his associate, but she's grown averse to the work they do (for it's highly unethical to experiment on live humans) and so she ran. In a new dimension, she's just resurfaced, but unlike OA/Prairie, she's completely forgotten who she was. She'd be in danger as she didn't travel alone. Her so-called father-figure is still looking for her.
In terms of roles, I'm completely open to what you'd like to do. If you'd like to play a stranger/companion to my traveller, be one of the human experiments that also travelled, or even take up the role of the "mad scientist" father-figure. Let me know what you think.
This setting was inspired by a Black Mirror episode, Nosedive.
In a society where your "Score" dictated everything, from social and economical status to your place of residence and so on, an underground insurgence is brewing. Lately, those highly influential individuals, who's high scores have been suspected to have been bought out by foul play or procured by force, have plummeted. They been demoted to the lowest ranks and forced to join the people that they once undervalued and scorned. In the most extreme case, one of the higher echelon, have been murdered.
In this plot, I'm looking to explored the roles of an insurgent who's been wrongly accused or a detective who's trying to solve the case of who truly killed the person whilst uncovering the resistance brewing underneath their nose. Player's pick. I'm fine with either role.
This one is a more fantasy-based setting. It could also work for a small group or if we decide to play multiple characters.
Starseeds and Crystal Knights, as a child you've always wondered what it was like to take part in this world of magical people. You heard of these women, the Starseeds, who emerge and harness their power in young adulthood become the sworn protectors of the elements of the world - Space/Air, Earth, Water, Fire, Ice, and Lightning. With training, they could control these elements and harness their abilities to manipulate them. Because of the power they wield, they have always been targeted by those looking to use their powers for their own personal gain. And so the Crystal Knights were born, sworn to protect these Starseeds from harm. These knights act like the Starseed's army, given special crystals, powered by the element that runs through the vein of their chosen Starseed. Lately, one of the Starseeds have been acting strange, she began by attacking the neighbouring kingdom. Then, she had physical injured another one of the other Starseeds. Starseeds were not known to act this way, it was prophesized that only the pure of heart can blossom as a Starseed, so there had to be something else going on beneath the surface. You were in a mission to find out.
There's a lot of potential to grow for this one. I don't have any specific roles pictured here as I think I'd like to build on the plot and this world together. If you're up for it, I'd love to brainstorm and write this with you.
This one is more relationship (platonic or romantic) inclined cause, why the heck not, but also can be a slice of life/modern.
You were on the way home on a very nondescript day, but decided to take a detour at the park. As soon as you sat on the bench, you felt relieved like an inexplicable wave of calm wash over you. A red balloon flew by and you followed its flight path up to the hill. That's when you saw them, your childhood friend, dressed in an attractive fashion that you've always admired. You blink, rub your eyes, and blink again. It couldn't be them, could it? Your friend moved a million miles away when you were young. And there wasn't a great probability that they were coming back. You were excited, you waved over to them, but they didn't respond. Maybe you weren't clear enough so you moved closer.
When they finally saw you, you heart was beating so fast that it almost ran from your chest. They were just as you could remember. You spent the day trading stories, forgetting about life's trivalties for those few hours. Then, it was time to leave. You said your good-byes, but you couldn't help that your friend seemed a little distraught and teary eyed. They explained that they were, at the moment, displaced and thrown out of their home. They had nowhere to spend the night. So you offered them the one comfort that you knew they needed, your place to stay temporarily. They promised to be out of your hair when they could, but you didn't know whether you wanted to let them just walk away again.
I don't really know where this idea came from, to be honest. I just thought it'd be cool to explore a relationship in which two people grow together. It's why there's no defined characteristics for the characters. They could be any age, students or adults, and reside anywhere. I think I definitely just want to see characters develop here. Whether they end up to be really good room mate or not, is yet to be seen. If you'd like to take this on, send me a message.
These honestly will vary depending on time and whether I have strong muse for the character. However, I try my very best to respond to the best of my abilities! c:
The wax peeled off in viscous layers, the light ember cackling lightly, illuminating a dishevelled room. A painting hung crookedly on its side, partially concealing the huge crevice running vertically through the wall. Chalky dust covered the floors only to be obscured by a broken object, glass, and an occasional footprint. Surprisingly, Porter found no blood in this abandoned flat. He took off the patched leather jacket that stuck to his back like glue and tossed it aside. His eyes flickered to his right bicep wrapped in a makeshift bandage. It’s become more rigid, crusty, and burgundy red compared to when Allie had put it on freshly.
Her words ran through his head. We didn’t make it. I-I can’t take this anymore. The guilt must’ve ran her ragged for the woman he knew wasn’t a trembling mess, she was stoic, slightly indignant to anyone’s emotional plight. Yet, there she was. Porter just didn’t understand why she would admit to such a thing, especially to a near perfect stranger like himself. He’d known her for what, a month - maybe a couple of weeks at best, and he was to believe that she was telling the truth. He wasn’t naive; however, the pit of his stomach grew unruly. His mind flickered back and forth on his previous decision to just leave. Should he have taken her with him? He wasn’t sure. His rational half reasoned that she was clearly a liar and traitor and his humanity begged him for mercy as if to dispel the thoughts that those weren’t crocodile tears.
His brows furrowed as he took a sharp inhale, closing his eyes to distance himself from these unrelenting doubts. Outside of his head, his pocket felt heavy with the comm. He was still allied and sworn to the League. They had a right to know that Allie’s killed one of their own. If they were in his shoes, they would’ve told him the same, wouldn’t they? His hands quivered at the side, hesitantly reaching for the zipper in his pant pocket. He also knew that their method of retaliation wasn’t the most kind when it came to turncoats. He couldn’t bear to witness what would happen to her once they knew.
“ARGHH!!” He growled into the empty room. Nostrils flared, teeth barred against the cold, dead air.
He hated choosing sides. He didn’t want to make this decision. He should’ve just left at the end of his shift that night instead of extending it into the wee hours of the morning, maybe then, he’d still be sound asleep, in the comfort of his own bed, away from this suffocating web of deceit. He should’ve listened to his intuition when she came up to him asking for directions. You fucked up, dumbass. You didn’t need to get involved but you did. Should’ve just let her be. Either way, he was going to hurt someone, wasn’t he? That was an inevitable part of life as pain can’t be bargained with no matter how remorseful he was. Elliot had to know what happened to Cecilia and Allie and her brother needed to know that there were consequences for their actions no matter how young they were.
Society molds you. Sometimes, it gives enough room and space to breathe and thrive, but in the same token, it crushes you, beats you down to a pulp, only to test what you’re made of. If he decided to tell Elliot, he had to handle it correctly. He couldn’t risk the line being tapped and the message being transmitted to the wrong people. Lives hung in a delicate balance now and so delivering this information required a more humane approach. He needed to tell him, and only him, in person. No message or phone call would suffice to express the words in his throat that wanted to leap off its cage like a feral feline. But he had to act quickly before Allie could get to him.
The guard lifted his jacket off the floor and swung it over his shoulder. He winched, at the sudden jerky movement, as his wound hasn’t entirely healed. Blood trickled down his forearm, but he couldn’t care less. He let the candle stand, like a makeshift vigil for Cecilia, looking at the flame and allowing a brief flush of anger and despair hit his chest. He had to remember her too, of who she was, and what she stood for. He sucked the air in his lunds deep, before he hurried off on foot, travelling to the League’s tower post haste. He heard the quickening thump beating out of his chest replace the unease in his stomach. He thought that it was better to move than to stay idle for too long. He preferred being in a perpetual state of motion as it didn’t allow for any time to feel extreme emotions like sadness or grief.
...
Illustrious, deep blue glass reflected the bright orange of morning sunrise. The u-shaped tower bent at acute angles on its ends almost sealing the surrounding area in a distorted circle. Flags sat limp, poles increasing in height outwards as they displayed the nations and organizations that the League allied itself with. Porter could feel his stomach lurch as he looked unto them. They were so powerful and influential. At any point, it would’ve been no problem and bare little consequence if they decided to terminate his life and erase his existence from the Earth. There have been many speculations that it was such, with any case of anyone openly advocating against their initiatives nor speaking slander among its members. He immediately remembered that Elliot and Cecilia were regarded highly within those walls. He’d best relay the events with utmost care and respect.
He was walking toward the entrance. The previous thumping in his chest now a thundering jackhammer, as if to say, a slight slip of the tongue and he could find himself in the same fate as Doug Jones, the man no one could remember, but he couldn’t forget. Doug was an environmentalist set on bringing his conservatory knowledge and advocacy to stop construction on native soil. He respected all life and led a peaceful demonstration that Porter had seen as a child, his mother’s work in line with Jones’ prerogative. One by one, they were struck - car accidents, stray bullets, and disappearances that no one could explain - with lies that plastered over their existence so quickly that it was rare to hear of the events in the media. He stopped walking, remembering the taking of his own mother. Men in black forcibly removing her from her bed, unaware that he was watching them from the small crack of her bedroom door. That night, he hid under his bed, unable to sleep, replaying the events like a looping nightmare, before his father came home from the night shift. He shuddered slightly unsure of what’s to come from any of this.
His strides slowed, walking at a more ginger-like pace when he resumed movement towards the structure. There weren’t too many personnel that early in the morning, but the ones he encountered were armed enough to make him think twice about leaving. He swallowed the lump in his throat causing some distention as he spoke to the receptionist before the elevators, hyper aware of the security detail stationed in the four corners surrounding the desk. “C-can I speak to Elliot MacMillian, please?” He felt like a child asking for another bowl of soup at dinner. His gaze averse to anything but the marble floor beneath his worn-in boots.
“Mr. MacMillian isn’t here at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?” The woman was pleasant enough in her response. He didn’t know if she was aware of who she was working for. By her tone, he guessed that she wasn’t.
“No, I’ll just wait here for him.” His voice was stable enough that she didn’t repeat the question and simply nod.
He walked to the sitting area of the side of the entrance. He sunk into the black leather seat contemplating the words. I don’t really know how to tell you this, but Cecilia’s dead. Was that too forward? He didn’t know. He couldn’t stop gripping his knees for what he was planning to do. Some might call him noble and others an idiot, although truthfully, he felt a little of both. He was just going to keep it simple. This wasn’t the place to begin superfluous, rounding conversation neither did the subject matter allow for any such action to be taken. He peered outside the glass walls, watching the pigeons congregate outside the walkway. I bet didn’t have to worry about anything. They could just fly away. He wasn’t an avid fan of birds, but there was no better time than now, to join their flock. If his could just fly away from his problems, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
The warmth of the sun kissed her caramel complexion as slender fingers slowly withdrew her perfectly coiffed, dark ringlets away from her face. She sat on her haunches picking wild flowers, the hems of her lavender dress draped across the evergreen fields. She twirled the marigold’s stem against her thumb, fascinated by the way the light was so bright that she could see the seeds and folds of the petals so clearly.
It was rare that she found herself slipping away from her tutor and his repetitious drivel about social etiquette and politics. Such insipid topics put her to sleep faster than a bard’s lullaby. She yearned to experience life outside the wall, free of academia, and all of its rules and rigour. Royal blood came with its own cage, although, most unspoken of for the livelihood of the citizens came in first. Civic duty wasn’t an easy duty to carry, but, as her father would put it, “It must be done.”
She plucked a few more to put in her basket, adding to the small collection of wildlife she intended to weave into a crown later on. She wandered towards the riverbanks, blades of grass tickled her bare feet, the mere sensation made her feel connected to nature and its beauty.
The streams glistened, crystal clear water trickling from the rocks scattered across the narrow tributary. She dipped her fingers gingerly, cupping the fluid, bringing it to drink from her lips. It felt so refreshing after an afternoon well-spent foraging in the woodlands. She knelt in closer, sleeves sinking in the river, her hands sprinkling cool water to her face. It wasn’t until she took a second dip that she noticed the reflection behind her. The distorted dark ripples indicated a hooded figure a few feet away.
Her stomach dropped. She was unarmed and not the most agile nor knowledgeable in combat. It was under her mother’s instruction that a woman’s place wasn’t in the battlefield so she need not know how to wield a sword. It was at times like this that she wished she had been a little more disobedient. Out of pure instinct, she ran across the river, her feet gliding across the other, hands swaying with the same urgency.
“HELP!! PLEASE HELP ME!!”
She hadn’t ever raised her voice to such heights before. A quiet disposition subverted by the intense pounding on her chest. She was heaving for breath, her insides felt as if they were going to errupt; however, she couldn’t stop. Her vision blurred, perhaps, from the lack of oxygen to her head and she began to slow. She took one look back, for the fear that the figure might be tailing so closely behind her, and immediately collapsed to the ground. Her foot caught in the root of an aging oak. She had nowhere to run now so she screamed at the top of her lungs.
“PLEASE!!! HELP ME!!! SOMEONE PLEASE!!!”
