Newcomer - Word Count / Literacy Levels and their drop rate?

[AnonymousRaine]

Hullo everyone. I'm Raine, new here, and I've got a question.


I'm a...well, comparatively, long-time RPer and writer. I've been stuck with one fabulous partner for the past X years, and we're still writing! But I'm bored at work and want to open up some new avenues for creativity, and he's busy with his work, so we have trouble finding time to meet up and type. And thus, as happens every year or two, I begin the internet hunt for a role playing partner.


I'll cut to the chase though: I write a lot. D: Novel-style, 400-600 words (5-7 paragraphs? I guess?) average spanning up to 2k, per post. I like to, as they say, 'paint with words'. Not just tell a story, but illustrate it. Write the human experience, intricate plots, interesting characters, yadda yadda yadda. I don't know. Everything on teh intarwebz says this is 'Advanced', but I haven't seen those terms used here and frankly think they're a little silly, and so I hesitate to do so.


In short: I just want someone to tell a good story with somewhere similar to the wordy length I find myself rambling on into.


My question is simply this: how common is this on these forums and how the heck do I find it? Advice, suggestions, directions? : )


Thank you all in advance,


Raine

 

[Grey]

There's no shortage of players who treat roleplaying as a serious writing exercise, and veer into the verbose. Generally hanging out in this subforum, and making interest checks in the relevant places that stipulate your preferences will eventually lead to someone. I believe that falls under RPN's 'Detailed' prefix, by most people's standards.


Although you'll also find a lot of people conflating wordcount with quality, so be prepared to be politely discerning about that.

 

[Tryss]

I'm just going to drop my writing samples here, and if you're interested in fleshing something out, get back to me.

Spoiler

The group climbed into the truck. Cool relief washed over Benjamin as he realized he wouldn't have to leave the kid behind to fend for himself. He'd never been directly involved in the death of a child. He didn't think he could handle the guilt that would come along with it.


Adults were different. Benjamin could justify extinguishing their lives. Hell, he could even justify beating them to death with a bat, or dismembering them if the Boss asked for it. He never worried about what their crime had been. They always deserved what came their way.


The last person Benjamin had tortured and killed, had raped a gang member's girlfriend. Benjamin had spent several hours with the bastard. He made sure he suffered. He'd also made sure he never found peace in the afterlife. He refused to bury him. Even being dumped into the river where the fish would pick him over was too good. Instead, he and and Adam ground him up like so much hamburger and fed him the dogs Adam used to keep. It was barbaric. It was brutal. It was life. Benjamin couldn't bring himself to feel badly about it. The man had done something unspeakable.


The gaunt, pale, sickly looking man began to introduce the group. Benjamin couldn't care less about names, but he went with it anyway. Julio stared at Fletch, murder in his eyes as he waited for the man to shut up.


The truck took off, and their attention was elsewhere as Barb hissed her own name. She quickly corrected herself, but the attitude had been there. Benjamin caught the angry look in Julio's eyes. He'd given her respect. He'd been kind enough to get her ass out of the situation she was in, and she wanted to talk to him like that? Fuck that. He opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off by Benjamin.


The white gang member stared at her with a raised brow. Irritation was heavy in his gaze. "You'll want to can the attitude miss." He answered. "Boss won't put up with it. He's a stickler for respect. Won't accept anything less. We address him as sir. You'll want to do the same. Seen him throw people out for less." He explained. He was doing them a favor by warning them. If they didn't listen, that was on them.


Julio was on his side of the bed of the truck grumbling to himself as he watched for monsters heading their way. There wasn't any. That was a shame. He wanted to shoot something. He was in a bad mood. Killing things always made that better.


Benjamin turned to face Adrian. The kid didn't look frightened like he should have. He looked empty. It was the same empty look he'd faced every day on his daughters faces when for nearly two years.


His heart broke for the kid. He was just another innocent life trapped in this hell hole. Ben's body language relaxed a bit. He became far more friendly, almost pleasant. "None of that applies to you, son. You're fine." He promised. "We've got other kids at the warehouse. Maybe you'll find someone to play with." He was trying for anything to get the boy to relax.


Barb touched the back of her head. Blood smeared her fingertips. "Doc'll take care of that when we get there." Benjamin promised. "He'll look at you all." It wasn't a question. They didn't have an option in the matter. They couldn't take the chance that someone had been bitten and was hiding it from them.


The truck stopped and Julio jumped out. He unlocked the padlock and began to slide the fence open. It made a horribly sharp noise that set Benjamin's teeth on edge. There weren't any monsters in their general vicinity, but they'd come when they heard it. They were attracted to loud sounds. It's why the gang used silencers.


The truck rolled inside the gate. Julio shut it behind them, making the same horrible noise. By now several monsters were coming their way. They were a slobbering, moaning, bloody mess. Julio only had to kill two before he finished. Benjamin watched the Hispanic man until he was safely inside, and the gates had been secured. The Boss would have skinned him alive if he would have let something happen.


Ben jumped out of the bed, and moved around the back to open the bed of the truck. "Adam." Was the only word he barked.


"I'm on it." Adam chirped as he slid out of the truck and shut the door. He was much shorter than both Ben and Julio. His dreads made him look less intimidating and more like a stoner. He was a stoner. He was less intimidating. In fact, he was down right friendly. He was also dangerous. Arguably more so than most of the men who actually belonged to the gang.


Benjamin held out a hand to Barb and then to Adrian. He would help them down if they wanted it. "Aight." He began, once everyone was out of the bed of the truck. "My name is Benjamin. The angry Mexican dude from before was Julio. Short guy with dreads is Adam. Boss is an older white guy. He and I are the only two white people here, so he should be easy to spot." He paused. "Aside from the three of you that is." He amended.


Adam returned with three sets of clothes. He didn't know their sizes, but he's guessed. If the clothes wound up a bit big, they'd have to deal with it. He handed them off to Barb who was decidedly less disgusting than Fletch was. He smiled down to Adrian. "My daughter is about your age. We have a few other boys around your age too. After the doc looks you over, and you get cleaned up, I'll take you to them if you want." He informed the little boy.


"Aight." Benjamin began after Adam left. He, like everyone else behind the gates had a job to do. He didn't want to waste any more time on the newbies. "Follow me. The Doc is in the second to last warehouse. It's our hospital." He explained.


Before Benjamin could show them the way, two small girls came bolting out of the nearest warehouse. One looked to be around eight. She had tight black curls that bounced when she ran. Her skin was black. Her eyes glistened with excitement. Behind her bounded a girl slightly smaller than herself wearing long hair in micro-braids. A huge smile also plastered on her face. The two looked as though they could have been twins.


They attached themselves to Benjamin's midsection. Hitting him with the force that should have knocked him off balance, but didn't. Running into him was a lot like running into a rock. He was solid and sturdy.


He chuckled, and bent down to wrap them in a hug. "There's my girls." He said happily. "How are my babies?" He asked.


"Good." The older one answered. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and he returned it.


Benjamin turned to face Adrian. "Adrian, these are my daughters. Jada and Jazzy." He informed the child. It was obvious that they weren't really related. They were Vaughn's -Ben's best friend - daughters. Vaughn had been shot and killed four years ago. Benjamin had assumed responsibility of them even though it had been The Boss to legally adopt them. "Jada, Jazzy, this is Adrian. He's going to be staying here with us." He informed the two.


Jada smiled to him, but Jazzy hid behind her father's leg. Benjamin patted them both on the head. "Aight, go get Uncle Julio and have him help you with target practice." He told the two. "There's a group of monsters on the far wall. You can use them for now."


Jazzy looked up to him with frightened eyes. It made his stomach wrench. A small voice in the back of his head asked how long he could protect her. He pushed it away. He'd protect her until he was no longer breathing, then one of the other men would take over. "I don't like the monsters." She informed him.


Benjamin's face crumpled with the words. He hated that she was frightened. He gave her a wink and plastered a fake smile upon his face. "Daddy's bigger than the monsters." He informed her. "I'd kill them all, but then what would you use for target practice?" He asked. It was a lie and they all knew it, but it was meant for comfort. Usually he would have told her to buck up. Usually he would have been just as unfeeling with the two as he was with members of the gang. It wasn't out of malice, it was out of necessity. He was training them to be fearless. He wanted them to be just as heartless and uncaring as the rest of the gang. He wanted them to be killers. It was the only way to ensure their survival.


These days it was different. Instead of rival gangs and cops to worry about, there were real live monsters to be frightened of. It was something he couldn't train them to get around. They were allowed to be scared. it was for that reason that he gave the answer he did. The two accepted it and scurried off shouting out for their Uncle.


Lazlo Hems, or better known solely as 'Doc', was a physician. He had started his career working in a free clinic. It was his passion to care for those who couldn't afford their own treatment. However, the pay proved to be too meager for him to survive on. For a long while he worked two jobs in order to survive, and for a long while, it worked.


A series of rather unfortunate events had led him to become in debt to The Boss. He'd spent three years working for the man, mending bullet wounds and stab wounds, caring for sick children who had done nothing wrong, but had had the unfortuante luck of being born to a member.


After his time had been served, he found that he didn't want to return to the free clinic. The pay was better with the gang, and he was largely doing exactly what he had been doing at the free clinic. So he opted to stay.


That was almost fifteen years ago.


Adam had informed Doc that there were three newbies. They needed to be washed and looked over. One was a woman, one was a child. They would be safe. The man was in for it. The Boss would house and feed the others for free. The man would be in debt or he'd leave. Those were his only two options.


The Doc had busied himself with preparing six wash bins with boiled water. Three would be for them to clean themselves off with. Three others were to clean out any wounds they had. He had a massive supply of all the medical equipment he could possibly need. Benjamin, Adam, Johnny, Julio and James had gone to a local hospital and forcibly taken all the supplies they could carry. They'd done the same at two local pharmacies. The Doc didn't even have a need for most of it, but he assumed they'd use it all eventually. Theoretically, they would live the rest of their lives out in this warehouse.


He set three wash bins on a cot. Each one armed with a wash cloth and a travel sized bottle of shower gel and shampoo. It was how they rationed their supplies.






Sasha


There was a massive crash. A huge thump as if something solid had rained down upon the house. The windows shook. The house creaked as though the foundation itself had shifted. What the fuck had just happened?


Sasha could only think of his...friend? Lover? He leapt up from his place at the table. "Nero!" He shouted. Something was very wrong, he'd been too wrapped up in his own selfishness to notice it before, but there was someone on their property.


Sasha closed his eyes, sending out his magick to investigate, and he immediately wished he wouldn't have. It was a...FUCK! A werewolf!


He darted forward, nearly crashing into Jackson on his way out. "Stay!" He shouted pointing to Jackson. The last thing they needed was a dead human. Although maybe it would distract the beast long enough to -


No!


No! He couldn't sacrifice Jackson to save Nero, tempting as it may have been.


Hunter


The wolf had expected to pin him to the ground. He’d expected his teeth to meet soft flesh. But instead tender flesh, his claws were met with the unwavering, solid wood of the house. His whole body crumpled against it. Pain bloomed along his side.


The wolf struggled to his feet, dazed and confused. His vision was blurry, his body ached. He looked around, finding nothing.


Suddenly a weight slammed against him. Sending his body tumbling to the ground. He snapped at the air wildly, deep, angry barks tore from his chest. A high pitched yelp escaped him as the weight on his chest got heavier and heavier. His paws swung wildly in the air. Massive jaws snapped at the Alp atop his chest.


Pain! Kill! Kill then pain leaves!!


His attacks were no longer driven by the need to protect his territory, but rather by a need to protect himself. He was fighting for his own survival.


Hunter more heard, than felt his ribs crack. He stiffened, his whole body going still as panic welled up within him. A wild yelp tore from his chest followed by a barrage of frightened whines.


The wolf flew into a rage, driven by instinct alone. His jaws snapped. Rage filled growls and barks pierced the night. His paws swiped wildly, and finally it struck something. It sent the thing stationed atop the Alp’s head flying across the room.


Suddenly the weight was lifted.


Kill! Now!


The wolf pulled himself up. Towering over the Alp. His muzzle pulled back, he stared at the stinky beast with pale yellow eyes filled with the kind of rage found solely in murderers.


With a massive paw, he sent the Alp soaring through the air. It landed with a heavy thud in the grass in the back yard.


Easy kill. Hurt.


He turned to look back at the house. Should he go in and kill everyone in there except the woman that smelled like home? Should he destroy everything, and then come back and deal with the Alp?


More need dead.


Yes.


He turned, massive paws thumping against the wooden floor. It creaked its protests. The breeze picked up, carrying with it the stench of Alp, and the horribly splendid scent of fresh blood. It encased Hunter, enraptured him with its sweet temptation. Had he not been so taken by the smell of the potential kill, he would have noticed the warlock just to his left, but as it were, he was far too distracted for that.


He paused for a moment, swinging his colossal head from one side to the other. Finally he chose.


He stalked toward the downed Alp, saliva dripping from his open mouth. Muzzle pulled back to reveal a plethora of sharp teeth. He would rip the thing apart, scatter his body parts. Maybe bury it. Anything to get rid of that horrible stench.


Sasha


Nero was atop the beast, but he wouldn't be for long. It was fighting against him, and it was going to win. What was that idiot doing? He couldn't take on a werewolf on his own! He was going to die!


"Fuck." He swore under his breath, lifting a hand prepared to cast the spell needed. He intended to bring the beast back to its human form and kill it.


But Nero!


He could potentially turn the Alp into an orange as well, and what if the man were to squash him?


FUCK!


With a frustrated growl he dashed forward, having no plan at all. The only thing on his mind was Nero. He couldn't let that thing kill him. The beast lifted a paw, and knocked Nero's hat from his head. No. Sasha's heart dropped. Everything began to move in slow motion. The beast barked, it growled, it lifted a paw, and it sent Nero flying backwards into the grass.


It took it less than a second for the beast to decide to go after the downed Alp. Sasha cursed, and ran toward them. Hand lifted. He could change him safely now. "Idem-"


Hunter


Something yelled behind Hunter. He paused, a paw lifting up, as he craned his neck to meet the gaze of the magick thing. He a low growl trickled from between deadly fangs. He took a dangerous step forward.


Dangerous. Kill.


The thing raised a hand, “Idem-“ That word…it stirred the air around him. It felt…dangerous. With a furious growl he leaped forward, a massive paw catching the thing by its side. Claws raked flesh from bone. The thing's eyes widened, a small whimper left its lips. But Hunter wasn't paying attention. He was focused on the thing's head. Atop it were snakes…or…Hunter leaned down and sniffed the thing while it laid bleeding and gasping for breath. No. Not snakes. Hair. Hair that looked like snakes.


Sasha


It had all happened so fast. Sasha hadn't had time to react. Claws raked against his unprotected flesh. With only a shirt between him and the thing's sharp claws, he was easily dealt with.


Sasha's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open. He let out a small cry of pain, and crumbled to the ground. His chest heaved. Agony swept over him. He wanted to call out for Nero, but all that escaped him was a blood-soaked groan.


Sasha slipped in and out of consciousness as the thing above him sniffed at him. He coughed, and blood bubbled up out of his mouth. He was going to die. That was unavoidable. But Nero didn't have to. Not if he could pull himself together long enough to help him.


"Nero," He choked, blood spilling from his parted lips. A rumbling cough tore from his chest. He screamed against the pain. With a few heaving breaths he tried again. "Nero, I love you." He croaked.


He lifted a shaking hand. He didn't know if Nero had heard him, but he needed to say it. It put it out there. To let the Alp know that whatever he'd done to elicit his ire earlier, he'd never meant to. He'd never meant for him to get hurt. “Archos-Ignium En Cirreculum”


Hunter


“Archos-Ignium En Cirreculum” The thing muttered, as blood seeped from its parted lips. Hunter bent down, his tongue lapping at the blood that trickled down its face. It shit its eyes and turned away. Its body stiffening.


Flames burst to life, creating a circle around the downed alp.


Fire! Danger! The flames circled his prey.


Angry. Rage. Kill.


Hunter leaped up, he pawed at the flames, trying to find a way in. He paced in front of it, but every time he got close the fucking flames would burn him. He let out a frustrated howl.


The beast turned his attention back to the thing that had done it. He stalked toward. It tried to move back, but there was no use in that. He slammed a clawed hand down on the thing. It shrieked, as the long daggers pierced its soft underbelly. Its tiny hands wrapping around his own massive paw. “Idem-“ It choked through blood and things too thick to be blood.


The wolf growled furiously. There was the dangerous word again. He wanted it to shut up!


He snapped at it, his jaws lingering just inches above it's stupid head. His paws slamming down on him with all the force of a freight train.


Silence.


He looked it over.


Dead. Happy.






Miguel was nervous.


He was beyond nervous, he was down-right anxious. It had been a long time since he felt this way. His heart was beating out of control, threatening to claw its way out of his chest. His hands were clammy and sweaty, he couldn’t catch his breath. Vomit clung to the back of his throat. His stomach felt cold, it flipped, it knotted, butterflies performed circus feats inside of it.


This was awful.


It was reminiscent of the days he’d spent tied to the stove in the kitchen. Or how he felt every time someone asked him to sit on furniture.


He was still getting used to that.


Furniture.


When he’d lived with Cassie, his mother – if you could call her that – he’d been forbidden from sitting on the furniture, or eating off a plate, or sitting at the table…because those were all for people. He wasn’t a person. Not according to his mother at least. He was a demon. A monster. Something to be feared.


Oh, how right she’d been.


Anger bubbled up inside of him, he hated feeling like this, and he hated thinking of his mother.


Anger.


That was an emotion he could deal with. He understood it. He used it. He channeled it fairly often. It’s how so many small animals had wound up in pieces in the backyard. A smile touched his lips at the thought. There was always so much blood. So much panic and pain in the eyes of his victims. He remembered their cries, each of them beautiful in their own way, each of them just as lovely as the –


“Miguel?” Cindy’s horrible voice cut through the car.


The high-pitched sound of it put his teeth on edge. He fucking hated her. He wanted to rip her god damned tongue out of her fucking mouth. “Hmm?” He asked politely, his face betraying none of the emotions he felt. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” His voice was sweet as candy, soft as velvet. His left cheek dimpled with a small sheepish smile. His eyes went to the disgusting pile of hair on top of her stupid head. He wondered what it might look like painted with her blood.


“You okay back there?” She asked, her blue eyes landed on him. What would they look like empty and void after he snuffed out her life? What would she look like without them? A shiver of indescribable pleasure ran through his body. It was almost enough to break his relaxed, but timid mask, almost enough to force his eyes to widen in surprise.


That thought had been a powerful one. It was...beautiful, rendering him excited in more ways than one. The familiar tingling of arousal hit his lower stomach and he fought off the urge to draw in a quick breath.


Why had he never thought of that before? Why had he never dug eyes out of sockets?


Jesus, the very idea was so glorious!


“Oh, I’m fine.” He answered, his hands folded in his lap in an innocent, almost child-like manner. “Thank you for asking.” He added quickly, his eyes hitting the ground quickly, as though he'd remembered his place. As though he was uncertain as to the consequences of meeting the eyes of his foster parents. He knew what that did to them. They were a bunch of pansy saps. A couple of tears, a few sob stories, and they were putty in his hands. They were pathetic.


The next few minutes were silent, he watched the trees outside as he tried to talk himself down from the sudden arousal of the very idea of removing eyeballs. He had to remember to try that. There were bound to be small critters scurrying around all over the place up in the mountain. He’d find something sharp to –


Stop. He instructed himself. It would be more than a little suspicious if he had to wrap his sweater around his waist in order to get up out of the car.


Thoughts of flowers and television and other boring things quickly snuffed out the problem, and by the time they stopped, he was more than capable of standing up without there having been evidence of his prior…excitement.


Miguel and his foster father – Brennan – pulled his bag from the trunk. Just one, a backpack. He slung it over his shoulder.


Miguel’s eyes widened as first Brennan and then Cindy stepped forward. Son of a bitch, he knew where this was going.


Fuck. I’m going to have to hug them. A string of silent curses danced on his tongue as he wrapped his arms around them separately with carefully-practiced pained eyes, and seemingly genuine sadness. He planted a chaste kiss on his foster mother’s cheek. “I’ll see you guys later?” He asked, brown eyes looking rather defeated and sad.


Sadness…that had taken so long for him to perfect. Not as long as the happy-go-lucky lilt that so often colored his words…but long enough.


“Yeah, of course. Miguel, baby, we aren’t leaving you. We just think this place will do you some good. You’re so reserved, and you never really talk to you friends. We just want you to be happy.” She said as she cupped his face in her hands.


Then stop fucking touching me before I break your god damned fingers you stupid fucking – “I know.” He answered, eyes cast to the ground, his voice tentative and small. Cry, cry, cry, you can do it. Tears. Just a few. Come on, you got this. YES! Two tears streamed down his left cheek, and he quickly wiped them away, his lower lip quivering. He was quick to turn away. “M’sorry. I don’t mean to be so…stupid.”


“Miguel, you are not stupid. We aren’t mad at you honey, we just want what’s best.” Cindy assured him.


Miguel nodded, but his gaze said it all, he didn’t believe them. After a few more exchanged words, and two more hugs, he walked away, toward the cabin.


A pretty blonde girl was standing by the door, looking down at her pack as though it was filled with rocks. Maybe don’t pack so much that you can’t carry it, dumb ass. “Hey!” He said with a brilliantly white smile. It took a fraction of a second longer than he had intended, but his cheeks slowly began to grow rosy.


Had to put on a good act for any onlookers. Chances were there were shrinks here, and that meant he had to act as normal as possible. What was more normal than flirting with a pretty girl?


It wasn't nearly as pretty as he was sure it thought it was. But…he had to admit, he would have loved to have seen how it looked splattered in its own blood.


He paused, realizing suddenly that he’d been referring to her as an ‘it’. Something he did only when the urge to kill became very strong. His eyes slid along her, hidden behind a shy smile and red cheeks, it probably looked innocent enough, but Miguel was trying to decide how badly he wanted to hurt it. Did he want to hear it scream for mercy? Did he want it to cry for help? Did he want to know what its hair looked like dripping with its own blood?


God yes.


Stop. He reminded himself again. Growing aroused in front of a pretty girl was not the sort of ‘normal’ he was shooting for.


With only slight hesitation, he motioned toward the bag. “Do you need help?” He asked politely. “My name’s Miguel by the way. What’s yours?” His left cheek dimpled as a sweet smile graced his lips. His body language was inviting and relaxed.


For all intents and purposes, Miguel looked like a normal teenage boy, just wanting to help out a pretty girl.

 

[MISTER UN. 0W3N]

Hey hey, @AnonymousRaine! I have similar problems in that regard as well. I write a lot and have had problems in that regard. I do have a thread to throw out at you if you want to check them out? Mostly, these threads do care about content and will allow users to write what they need and all that jazz. If not, I can introduce you a group I'm a a part of. =w= /

 

[The Omen of Death]

@AnonymousRaine


First of all, since you are new to the website welcome! For your taste in style of writing, your most likely going to be finding that 'detailed' prefixed RP's will work best for you. Though, even with detailed RP's I will give a bit of a warning that they usually will have a limit to how big a post can be. Usually, they set max at 2 paragraphs most I saw was around 4 and I am still fairly new to the site. So you may have to cut back slightly on detail, but overall you should be able to get your point across well.

 

[MISTER UN. 0W3N]

@The Omen of Death


As a head's up: the standard for "detail" post is 3 paragraphs for RPNation. However, a lot of the forum's post content is specified by the thread owners. They are free to choose post length and content in their threads. This varies from user to user. If someone has a max for 2 and it doesn't fit your style, you are free to either challenge yourself and try or move on to a thread that fits more to your needs.

 

[AnonymousRaine]

@ Everyone


Thank you for your replies! I'll start hunting under the Detailed tag and see what I can't find. In the meantime, anyone and everyone if what I'm describing fits your bill too, please PM me!


@The Omen of Death I was finding the same, 2-4 paragraphs seem to be standard for detailed. But as others are saying, there ARE others like me out there! I will endeavor to find them! ^o^


@mayhem TR4NQU1L17Y I can't quite send PMs yet, but please, throw me one! I'd love to bat around plot ideas, trade samples if you want, etc. See if we can't work something out. : ) Threads, shoot 'em at me. The only thing I haven't been able to get behind is group RPs, but maybe someday. For now I'm going to be sticking to the simple - 1x1. Content-focused is precisely what I'm looking for - I just like to give a lot and get all atmospheric and junk with scenes. Sets a lot of the mood for me.

 

[Scattered Ambitions]

@AnonymousRaine While I certainly don't write as much as you, and I'm still working to get up to a minimum of two paragraphs per post, I have a bit of insight. You may not be able to find someone with your literacy level on someone else's roleplay, but if you start your own, you can set the paragraph minimum to be 5 paragraphs. I'm sure you could find someone who would indulge you.

 

[Cousinofgreed]

I'm a pretty detailed writer, and usually type up about 5-8 paragraphs for an average reply. I've found a few people on this website who have similar styles, but I feel your pain! I had to search for a while!