MxF Pairings?: Yes
Straight Characters?: Yes
Role Play Genres?: Pretty much anything, except zombie/horror
Over 18yrs of age?: Yes
Willing to play either gender leaning toward mostly male?: I prefer to play male
Literacy Level?: I can write anywhere between 650-1.2k words normally :)
Open to world building and chatting?: Literally one of my favorite parts of RPing
Rough Online Schedule?: Normally afternoons are consitently on
Forum RPs?: YES!
PM RPs?: no, i lose them :P
Writing Experiences?: 10+ years of writing, both creative and essay-wise
Role Play Experiences?: 3+ years on here, 7+ off-site
References (If any):
Lots on here :))
Character Example (give me a description of a character you have created)
One of my favorite boyos:
Crew is all white teeth, and big smiles. He is sunshine, warmth, and sandy beaches. He is a 6'2 bundle of blonde hair and muscles, and he is beautiful. His big green eyes are captivating, and something about the warmth found there draws people in. He has an athletic build, and uses it to his advantage in everything he can think of. His face is well-built, with a strong, square jaw, and high, sloping cheekbones. His eyes are not deep set, unlike his father's, and his dimples pop whether or not he is smiling, you can see that they are there. He doesn't wear glasses, nor does he wear contacts. The Sinclairs do not need to wear any sort of correction, because, from the outside, they are already perfect. Why would they need something so trivial? His skin is warm and tanned, he has no blemishes that are visible. The few scars he sports along his legs come from sports, and those were to be expected, of course. Crew was born to play sports. Back in Massachusetts, every fall, every break, every time not spent in school was to be spent in physical activity. Tennis, lacrosse, baseball. He is the epitome of a handsome young man from the East Coast, prepared to become everything he was meant to be.
His most distinguishing marks are his stature, and his face. The Sinclairs have a very distinct way of look, that stems from generations of tall, blonde, happy people getting married, and having tall, blonde, happy children. Crew follows after these expectations perfectly, with his vigorous height, his cheerful nature, and then hair that is so unmistakable. These blond locks fall long over the summer, when he refuses to have it cut, and it will curl slightly around his ears, softening that clear-cut jawline. He rarely styles his hair, given the amount of time spent in the water, on the beach, or on various sports fields, why would he? It stays neatly out of his face for the most part, so he is satisfied. Crew's voice is rather low and smooth, and his enunciations are clear and precise. Every word is meant exactly as it is said, unless he is in a temperamental frame of mind. Overall, he is found attractive by the girls he knows, and he makes a point to keep it that way. He is the product of two of the wealthiest families on the East Coast.. Why shouldn't he be praised and adored? Treasured and doted upon?
Crew dresses like a young gentleman for the most part. He will wear the proper tuxedos and polo shirts, the jumpers over button-down shirts, He will wear the ties as expected, his shirts buttoned all the way up his throat. But the summers are his, and his alone. Linen shorts and shirts find their moments, as do his less casual clothes. However, if he could truly have his way, he would be quite content to wear nothing but his swimsuit, and spend long summer evenings on tiny, secluded coves, sipping a whiskey and sour, soaking the last rays of the sun's warmth. Crew normally doesn't wear many accessories, but occasionally he will wear a simple, silver chain with his sisters' initials engraved on a small pendant.
Writing Example (length is however long you need to showcase your work, one scene will suffice or three if you feel so inclined to write that much)
An old RP Scene
Crew was sprawled on his bed, half asleep, when someone rocketed in from the doorway landing fully on his stomach. He sat up with a groan, pushing at whatever it had been, not surprised when his fingers met warm, golden fur. The dogs liked him, and when it wasn't the buttcrack of dawn, he liked them too. This, however, was not one of those times. He slowly pushed at the dog, trying to figure out which one it was. It only took him a few seconds. This was his cousin's baby, the young dog, not quite a year old.
"Goose," he mumbled. "Go fetch."
The juvenile beastling leapt off his bed, apparently going to fetch the nonexistent tennis ball that had been thrown. Crew sat up, rubbing his eyes. The clock next to his bed was gone, so he dug around in the blankets of his bed until he found his phone. He scowled when the time flashed up: 8:30 AM. That was at least three hours too early, in his opinion. He lay there for a moment, hoping sleep would find him again, but to not avail. He glanced over to his desk, where a pill container sat so innocently near a stack of papers. But no. He knew better than to take that many pills so early.
Finally, Crew stood up, and went to bother his sister. If he was up, she needed to be up too. He was careful to be quiet in the hallways, he wanted his sister up, not his whole extended family. He knew which floorboards squeaked, which doors hung a little too heavy on their hinges, so he was able to make it down the hall without much issue. However, once he was at the door he wanted, he paused, and listened. Inside, he could hear the soft strains of the music Kennedy always fell asleep to, if it was still on, that meant she was still asleep. He opened the door as softly as possible, which was no easy feat. The door stuck easily, and dragged on the floor. Goose came up beside him, and he grinned, and idea becoming clearer in his mind as he saw the raggedy tennis ball in the dog's moth. He gently took it, and made eye contact with the dog, then tossed it onto the end of his sister's bed, the grayish green standing out against her pale blue bedspread.
It almost happened in slow motion, the dog launching himself onto the bed, Crew watching as he landed on Kennedy's legs. She jerked away, and scowled when she saw the Golden, leaving tufts of hair all over her room. Her mood simultaneously dampened and brightened by the sight of her brother in the doorway. She knew he'd brought the dog, but their sibling relationships ship was good enough to take it as a joke. As Kennedy rolled over to check her phone, Crew wandered into the bedroom, examining random things in her room. She raised an eyebrow as he opened random drawers, fulfilling his brotherly duty of being annoying. He knew without a doubt that his mother was still asleep, she religiously rose at nine, so there was time to do something before she wanted to berate them for something, so he poked Kennedy.
"Get up. We'll go get coffee before mum gets up."
Kennedy jumped up, the day brightening. Neither of them were dressed for going out, Crew was wearing a well-worn Harvard T-shirt and Star Wars fleece pajama pants, and his sister was wearing sky blue silk pajama shorts and a white tank top, but neither of them cared. The paparazzi would definitely catch a couple picture, but that would be fine. It would only add to the personas given to them by the press.
Crew found his wallet and keys, and called the dogs. All the Goldens came running, and he grinned. He knew better than to wait for his father's Doberman, and so the troop headed out to his Range Rover. He opened the back door to let the three dogs into the wide seat, ignoring the cameras already pointed at them.
It was a bit of a sixth sense for the Sinclairs, knowing when you were being looked at, especially through the lens of a camera. The little ones didn't understand it, but once you were eleven or a little older, you started to be able to get that little niggling feeling deep down in your stomach, that there was gonna be a big story soon. He sighed, not really minding too much. They weren't yelling at him yet, and after they got a few pictures, they backed off. There was always a couple journalists camped around the house, but they weren't normally too much of an issue. Kennedy settled into the passenger seat, and a moment later, they headed off, hoping to be back before their mother woke up
Winter 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
