Preface I consider myself an advanced writer with a relatively acceptable grasp on the English language and expect that you have the same. I am absolutely anal about format, organization, and grammar/spelling/punctuation. I’m very creative and plot building is one of my favorite parts of plays, so if you cannot share ideas or bring something valuable or exciting to the table, we won’t work out as partners. I require someone that feels engaged in the tale. I prefer to take quite awhile to plot, think of twists, create dynamic characters. I love to taste my partner's excitement when we discuss our roleplay. On that note, if you are feeling your interest wane, please inform me, as I will you, and we will discuss something to fix it, or something that solves the issue. Also, inform me of absences please. I will warn you if there will be a delay. About Me My name is Kaycey. I am a female over 18. I am in the Pacific time zone, west coast United States. I'm a college student, so there's plenty of time for me to reply at least once a day if not more. I'm usually always near a computer. I do work about twenty plus hours a week so please understand this. I'll be available OOC even when a post isn't ready yet. As for genres I like to play, some modern (if the plot is thick enough), historical, dystopian/apocalyptic, modern fantasy, etc. I do have several ideas presently and it would be superb if you did as well. Roleplaying Requirements I did touch base on my need for advanced writers. Solid description. Quality over quantity. Proof-read posts. Violence, sex, gore, swearing, etc. You must be okay with adult themes. This does not just include sex, but also mature concepts/feelings/emotions. I am a female, and I welcome both male and female partners. However, if you are a female who puts up the demand that she must play a female role, we are not going to get along. A good writer should accept weaknesses, then proceed to work on them. I am a firm believer that you should practice both roles. I actually enjoy playing males immensely, so there's no issue there. I do like a little bit of romance in my plays, but there's no such thing as 'pairings' to me. I enjoy romance only to thicken the plot with intrigue and conflict. I've no issue with lesbian or heterosexual involvement in my plays. Homosexual male roleplays have never worked for me, though I have nothing against them. If you are interested, or you have questions, please shoot me a PM with a writing sample of your choosing. I don't bite, unless you're into that. I'd love to get something started. I have some ideas and basic platforms to work with, and I would love to hear any of your ideas as well. I have a writing sample below for your criticism. There was a knock. A single knock that made a solid wood door shake on it's hinges. That door was held captive to fourteen deadbolts, all various types and strengths. This was the door that spouted out a cherrywood handle from a mahogany complexion, this establishment gave it the appearance of age, though the strength remained in tact for all of these locks, one gained for each year the treasure was hidden away. This was where Katrina doubted. Anyone or anything behind this door held no meaning to her, or so she feigned. It was hers, oh, indeed it was. For Ms. Indigo claims that there is no need for the precious, tender prize that lay behind this door in a dusty box, in the center of the dining room table. And though this claim is stated, she feels the need to guard it. Who, with sanity in their bones, would guard something they found to be useless? Katrina saw her heart as a menial thing, a complacent object used too much and loved too little. And still, a piece of her psyche made sure to keep all vulnerability under deadbolt lock and key. That is, until this morning in the home of Jonas the Stranger. Her vulnerability and sensitivity was at a high here. No pun intended, as Katrina couldn't keep the tears away if she didn't force herself to forget of her discovery just moments ago. It was unavoidable to the eye of the man near her, beside the coffee pot. Her legs portrayed it in their soreness from dancing, her eyes were ill refreshed, her chest strained to breathe. Katrina's slender fingers let go of the cheap countertop, allowing her lengthy body to slink to the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest and nestling her chin in the crevice between her kneecaps. Trina's chin was the common point in her heart shaped face, bringing her baby nose and big girl face all into one, magnificent package. She didn't see her beauty; inside or out, though it wasn't the common insecurity among women, it was the fact that she didn't see herself as a woman at all. In her stunning body, that attracted so much attention, wanted or unwanted, there was a woman, whether she saw it or not, a confident woman that defied most odds. Katrina accepted that she'd become a cliché, but only in the physical sense. Mentally, emotionally, intellectually...she was doing her best to be better than what is expected of her. If only she could find her purse... she had homework to do. Jonas was very quietly hovering over his coffee, almost as if he suspected it was poisoned but was so desperately in need of caffeine that he was contemplating how much anyone would actually miss him. She was quick to get ahold of herself, and never did a sob attack her breast. It was silent, and her hands wiped away the tears, blinking to dry her eyelashes... "Can I take you home..." It was a low blow, though she didn't take it this way. It was as Jonas said this, that she realized what she wanted. Her father always taught her to make decisions by flipping a coin. He'd give her his last nickel, and ask, "Would you like cookies or brownies for dinner?" This was an indefinite contrast, as Katrina had a strong love for the latter. As for the former, if it were her choice, she'd live off of them. She'd giggle an airy, youthful laugh, through the front of her mouth, where front teeth were supposed to be. "Daddy, I can't decide," she'd say, looking down at the coin between her warm little palms that were incased in his rough, worked hands. Derek would nod, smiling down at her as she sat in his lap. "Well, heads is brownies and tails is cookies," he'd reply, taking another swig of his Corona before returning his hand to rest underneath his daughter's. Katrina would then hop down from his arms, toss the coin into the air, waiting in those few seconds that gravity showed mercy, to see where it would fall. In those moments that seemed to get the best of us, where we make good, bad, or otherwise decisions, she realized what it is she wanted, what side she hoped for it to be. Already she was considering how she would change the outcome, should the coin not fall her way, so her father wouldn't see. "or buy you breakfast..." The woman's eyes lit up as she raised her gaze to meet his dark, heavy pupils. Even without a smile, it was impossible not to notice her sudden lift in mood. Because now, she knew what she wanted. What Katrina wanted now was to fix Jonas no matter what, to make it right again, with him, with her, with her father. To drown the guilt with fulfillment. "I like IHOP..." she murmured, licking her lips to moisten them. How soft they felt... "They have good chocolate chip pancakes..." Blue-gray crystalloids locked onto the rest of his face from the floor. How handsome he was to her, though she hadn't paid attention until, amongst the hours of the previous night and this morning. Older than her, though she guessed by no more than six or seven years. Jonas was tired, worn down, and there was sympathy for him, courtesy of Katrina. And there it began, the seeds from Jonas falling from the underbelly of heaven, germinating and spreading like a well-attended garden onto the doormat of Katrina's imprisoned heart.