Realistic or Modern Seeking Longterm RP Partner

[free2bealways]

Hi there!

You can call me Free.

I'm in my thirties. I've been roleplaying since middle school, so about 20 years, if you can believe it! lol. I started on Neopets of all places, but quickly outgrew it. I got a friend of mine into it for a while, but she wasn't as into it as me. Then I moved and made a new friend and she was just (if not more) obsessed as I was.

I have role-played a few times with strangers, but for the most part, I role-played with a long-term rp partner. She and I both loved writing, YA and love stories, so we fit really well together. We don't rp anymore, so I'm not really sure what to do with myself! I'm hoping I can find a new partner here.

I like a lot of different kinds of role-plays. I've done some in an x-men world, college life, high school life, body switching, labyrinths, etc. I'm not into things getting too dark, but it's expected that characters will be complex (which may include a tragic backstory). I prefer something with a love story, but there has to be a lot of other stuff going on too. I'm used to playing several (2-3) characters at once because my partner loved fun group dynamics like on Friends.

I only play original characters, but she and I used to reuse the same ones over and over because it was fun to see them in different settings. So I may introduce a new-to-me character, or I may recycle one I've grown to love over the years. But all of my characters will be original. I don't play other people's creations.

I am looking for some with a lot of rp and general writing experience. I’d prefer to work with someone in the general ballpark of my age. Maybe 26-45. It’s just about life stages and level of experience and stuff

I love YA, but have recently also been doing characters around college age and my age as well.

I don’t have a post length requirement. I typically write longer posts (1-5 pages in Word), unless there is a dialogue between my character and my partner’s because I don’t think it’s very sporting to speak for someone else. So the dialogue posts will probably be short (a sentence or few) unless it’s two of my characters talking amongst themselves.

I write a mix of male and female characters. I prefer m x f romance. But NPCs or minor characters can be whatever.

I am open to a variety of worlds and plots. Most of my writing tends to exist in our modern world, but the x-men style roleplay was one of my favorites because of the cool powers our characters had. So fantasy is a possibility (though I don’t know much about common conventions as I’ve only read a handful of strict fantasy). I enjoy sci-fi too.

My main thing is if we’re doing a fandom world, like x-men, it should be “based on” and not “existing in” the world of the fandom. I’m all about original content. What that means is it’s fine to have characters with x-men style powers and even for there to be a gifted school to teach them, but all of the characters and plots should be original.


Fair warning: I am in grad school, which means I don’t have a lot of free time, especially during the semester. Over the past year, my participation has ranged from several posts in a day to once a month. So you’d have to be okay with that.

 

[free2bealways]

Here’s a sample of my writing. Be advised I don’t tend to edit my rp posts as much as I do my novels. I also have the habit of writing on my phone sometimes because I’m too lazy to go get the laptop and that’s just asking for trouble.

Not all of my posts are this long, but this one comes from a solo rp (I mean you can’t stop writing just because you lose your partner, right?), so it’s kind of long (and if I’m being honest, only part of the post) because I’m talking to myself.

It’s also in first person present tense, even though I always use third person past tense for rps because Jase, for some reason refused to be limited like that. But anyway, it should give you an idea of my skill level.


I force the accelerator all the way to the floor. I’m taking the turns on this road too fast, but I don’t care. I laugh. I’ve spent my whole life not caring, but have never felt this numb. It’s worse, I think, than hurting. At least if you’re hurting, you’re feeling something.

My last conversation with Desiree plays on a loop. I wish I could turn it off.

~

I haven’t heard anything from Desiree in a month. I know it’s stupid. It’s really not that different from all the months and years I stayed away, except that had been my choice. Sort of. I’d been protecting her and probably more than that, protecting me.

She’s never…pushed me away like that. Kicked me out, sure. But push me away? With the understanding that I won’t come back this time? I’m starting to think she meant what she said. But there’s only one person I know who might know her better than me.

When I knock on Brooklyn’s door, a guy answers. When I ask for Brooklyn, his face turns sour and I immediately say, “Hi James! It’s so good to meet you!”

I had a 50-50 shot at being right. But this guy has darker features, which more closely matches Brooklyn’s description of James, so I’m pretty confident.

I’m leaning against the doorframe. Partly because it looks cool and partly because I may have had a few drinks before coming here and the world is a little wobbly. He rolls his eyes at me and starts to shut the door.

I slide my foot in the way before he can close it and he says, “I’ll break it off.”

I grin at him. He sounds just like Desiree.

“Come back when you’re sober. Or better yet, don’t come back at all.” His tone is icy, hard.

“James? Who’s at the door?” Her voice is muffled, but it’s obviously Brooklyn. It’s musical.

“Nobody,” he says, eyes still on me. He kicks my foot and slams the door in my face.

“Well that’s not very neighborly,” I yell through the door.

I hear something on the other side of the door. Maybe an argument? Someone slamming their hand on the door? It opens a moment later and Brooklyn stands there. Her cheeks are tinted in an adorable blush.

“Jase!” A huge smile breaks out across her face. It was nice, being around someone who could admit they wanted you there. Desiree rarely did that. I could tell, sometimes at least, but it wasn’t the same.

Brooklyn launches herself at me. For a tiny person, she hits me hard. I almost loose my balance. Then she squeezes me so tightly, for a moment I think she can put all the pieces back together. Then she lets go.

“Brooklyn, don’t go anywhere with him. It’s not safe,” James had moved into the doorway when I wasn’t paying attention. His arms are folded across his chest.

He steps toward her and pulls at her elbow. I notice how gently he’s touching her and it makes something ache deep inside. I brush it away.

She puts both her hands on his arms — this guy works out — and makes pretty firm eye contact with him. I briefly wonder if maybe they need a room. I laugh to myself.

“You promised you would stop doing that.” She adds an exasperated sigh in there for good measure.

“Brooklyn, he’s drunk—“

“James,” she says firmly. “He’s not going to hurt me. Please let me handle this.”

I can see the struggle. His lips tighten and pucker like he’s just tasted something sour. He looks from her to me, back to her again. Makes direct eye contact with me and is probably silently considering all the ways he could murder me and how that dumpster is so conveniently located only fifteen feet behind me. (I know this because I briefly considered puking in it before making my way to the door.) Then he walks away.

Brooklyn closes the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s a little overprotective sometimes.”

I laugh and shake my head.

“He cares about you,” I say. Those words hurt too. I search for something else, anything else to talk about.

“Are you okay?” she asks, “Because if this is a booty call, I suggest we go back to your place. Mine is kind of full right now. I mean, unless you like an audience.” She winks at me.

I take a step toward her, looking her up and down and smiling. She puts a hand on my chest to stop me from making a bigger fool of myself, I’m sure.

“I’m kidding,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” I say. “That’s so much nicer than ‘what are you doing here, Jase.’ Isn’t it?”

She laughs. “I take it that’s what Desiree said to you today?”

“Nooo,” I say with the world’s biggest smile. I don’t know why. It’s not remotely funny but if I’m not careful, I’m gonna lose it and start laughing again. “She says that every time. It’s almost like she’s not happy to see me.”

A shadow appears in the window next to me and I nearly scream. But I don’t. Nailed it. It’s James, naturally.

“Can we talk? Somewhere your guard dog can’t hear us?” I ask.

She laughs. “Sure. You want me to just drive us around, or—“

“You must come in my car.”

“Jase, I’m not getting in a car with a drunk person.”

“You are.” I laugh. “You just invited me into yours.”

She shoves my arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t drive here,” I say. But really, she should have more faith in me. Or maybe she shouldn’t. She doesn’t know me, does she? And honestly, I think I’m losing faith in myself.

“Is that your car?” She points to the Toyota RAV4 with the bright, pink “Lyft” sign sitting on the dash.

“Yep!”

“How ‘bout I drive us to your place? Then I can just drive myself home later.”

“I make a mean breakfast,” I say. “Anything you want.” I can, actually. I just usually don’t because I never stay the night.

She rolls her eyes at me, then walks over to driver of the RAV4. I can’t hear what she’s saying but the driver hits the accelerator pretty hard once she’s out of the way, so I assume he’s pissed.

“Ooo. You made him maaad,” I say.

She laughs and grabs my arm and pulls me over to this tiny car I’m not even sure I can fit into.

“What kind of bug of is this?” I ask. I can’t help it. It’s hysterically tiny.

“It’s not a bug, It’s my car. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to walk home.” She steps away from the car like she’s going to leave me out here and I can’t handle that. So I climb into the coffin and close the door.

“Your two best friends are huge,” I say. “Why is your car so small?”

“She can hear you!” Brooklyn says. “But we’re going to forgive you because you’re drunk.”

“That’s what people keep telling me.” I lean my head against the cool glass of the window. It feels good.

The drive is shorter than I remember. So short, I think maybe she jumped through a wormhole or something because there’s no way we got here that quickly.

I don’t really remember what happens after that.

When I wake up, the world is spinning, but at least there’s a girl with her head on my chest. I look down and panic because it’s Brooklyn and my first thought is how Desiree is going to kill me. But then I realize we’re both still fully clothed and the reason she’s here comes slamming back in so hard my chest felts permanently dented.