One on one roleplay request yaoi/hetero

[Sigrutan]

Be afriad, be very afriad that your cursor has lead you to my little thread. This thread will make your brain decay with tedium and monotony. Your keyboard will shatter as your sleepy head bangs down upon it with a resonating thud. I am only joking. It is just that the one on one request threads are very similar.

Let me introduce myself. I live on a tiny island known as England. It has been traditional weather here. The sky has cried a thousand tears, so they say.. You can call me Davor. Not a very English name but my mother is Czech. English is not my first language but I try hard to make my writing, creative, imaginative and description, as well as coherent.

Anyway I would like to request a roleplay with one of you visitors to my thread. Here is a contents of what this thread will contain.

Rules
Genres
Sample

[Sigrutan]

The rules are just to show you the kind of roleplayer I am. If you can forfill the majority of requirements then I will be happy. I am a nice guy really despite the rules.

1 - Basic grammar and spelling. This makes posts coherent and understandable. In order to reply to a post I need to understand it. It is common sense! I will not go through and correct you. That is not my style. We all make mistakes. That is what makes us human. If you struggle with spelling then use the mighty Word and type your post out there first.

2 - Creativity - I do like to be surprised and intrigued with uncommon characters and concepts. I like to try things which are different from the norm. I can get bored pretty easily.

3 - Long term - Please lets try and complete a story.

4 - Notify me if you are bored. I will do the same for you.

5 - I mostly play male characters. I can play a female if it will enhance the storyline. I play characters of all sexualities.

6 - Follow Gaia's TOS, rules etc.

7 - I do not do roleplays which involve bestiality.

8 - I will roleplay over email, msn, pm or private thread only.

9 - Please be nice and accept comment. I have had roleplayers say rather hurtful and rude things to me because I mentioned that their character may not fit the storyline. Why is it the guy that always has to apologise? I admit I can be a little picky but I just want to get things right. My plots and roleplays are joint creativity.

[Sigrutan]

I do heterosexual and Shounen ai (yaoi) roleplays (would prefer these). Here are the genres I have enjoyed in the past.

Fantasy
Vampire
Education based ((schools etc.))
Work place ((office, cafe, casino etc.))
Historical. ((Roman Empire, Medieval etc.))
Mythological deities ((Greek pantheon, Norse pantheon.))
Real life

Game based (Star Fox)

[Sigrutan]

Sample 1

Quote:

The police detective had smelt that nauseating perfume of evil in the air for the past hour; a cloying cold mustiness that was stronger than the scent of pine trees and belied the balmy late spring atmosphere. The silence, too, was noticeable. The absence of birdsong nd the soughing of the mountain breeze seemed to have lapsed into a calm where not even a leaf rustled. As though the world held its breath and waited.

The tall detective in the dark, travel-stained and crumpled suit shrugged off the uneasiness he felt with deliberate effort, paused on the long steep forest path to wipe the sweat from his high brow and aquiline features. A dry tongue flicked the fringes of his jet black moustache and his narrow, deep-sunken eyes stared ahead into the shadows of a gathering dusk. But nothing moved. A three inch scar down his left cheek, a ten-year-old disfigurement, was whiter than his own sallow complexion.

Tall and lithe, it was diffficult to detewrmine the age of his police detective; he might be as old as fifty or as young as twenty. Agile in every movement, yet those eyes reflected a maturity, even a hint of fear. Because for this detective this was the end of a long trail, one that had stretched across ten years where death had lurked in the village and forest alike, but his quarry had eluded him. Until now. There would be no escape for the Black Torment.

The detective had followed this same trail earlier that morning, memorised every detail from aloft as his astral body glided and hovered in the shape of a kestrel. He was a hawk that missed nothing, ignoring the easy prey. Searching mile after exhilarating mile until he came across his first clue. And he saw the dilapidated woodcutter's shack and knew he had found the hiding place of the most evil creation, an entity reborn time and time again in human form. Satan's ambassador spawned in hell to wreak his vengence on Earth, truely the mythical anti-Christ.

At first the hut had appeared to be deserted; no sound or movement from within, not a wisp of woodsmoke out of the rusted iron stove chimney protruding from the warped roof. The detective blinked in the sunlight, considered heading back to his bed and breakfast accommodation. But there was no hurry; a fw more minutes, possibly hours, were nothing compared to the years of relentless pursuit. This creature, after all, had seduced his daughter. He would wait forever.

The sun rose high but there was no warmth in its rays. The detective felt the chill and knew it was unnatural in spite of the height above sea level. Tiny eyes that missed nothing picked out three rectangles of newly turned earth on the fringe of the surrounding trees. Graves! In them would doubtless lie the remains of victim, after victim. The beloved ones who never returned home. Beyond these stood a stone curved in the shape of a heart. A few roses wilted formed the wreath. Deep down he knew that was the resting place of his beloved daughter.

A movement, so sudden disturbed the eerie still. He saw the ill-fittting door being scarped back; a human form emerging.

It was nothing like he expected it to be. The human form was peacing to the eye. The silken black hair which flowed like curtains down his back, and the well fitted suit gave the appeal of a courtly gentlemen. Those eyes were not that of a devil sick of sin. The were the softest shade of teal. This was the b*****d who had enchanted his daughter, and stolen her from the sanctity of her bedroom.

"So you have come." The voice was smooth and cultured, mockingly defiant. "You are stubborn human. So foolish, because we could have gone our separate ways and now it is too late. Again you disturb the sul and peace of dear Christina. She always wanted for her soul to float with freedom and grace in the kingdom of the bird. I will not let you destroy that."

The detective had come to the conclusion that this being was a deluded lunatic. How could he possibly speak of his daughter a in such a manner? That creature knew nothing of his sweet-hearted Christina.

"No," the detective stepped forward, gripped a tiny crucifix in the pocket of his jacket and wondered if it would be powerful enough. "There is no room for a murderer like you in this world."

In seeing the blessed item in the fists was the detective. A axe was lifted by the Black Torment. He held the weighty object with ease. In one fatal swing the detective's world became nothing but darkness.

....

The coming of the snows had hindered the search parties and the passing of time was a convenient excuse to forget. Since the disappearance of the detective, no-one went up into the mountains. for it was aterrible place to be lost in. The locals knew of the creature since inhabited the area.

Sample 2

Quote:

The cemetery had long been untended. A quarter of a century ago it had been the pride of the small village. Neat rows of white, marbled tombstones, bedecked regularly with fresh flowers according to the season, the grass trimmed so that it resembled strips of lush green lawn. Now the worst side of nature had taken over. Brambles that had hitherto been kept in check relishing the freedom to stretch their thorny tentacles, moss and dandelions obtaining a stranglehold on the grass and stifling it so that it grew long and brown and went to seed. The elements whipped the gravestones mercilessly, obliterating the lettering so that names and dates were indecipherable, and the dead passed into oblivion.

The small church, too, standing amid the tall scots pines had fallen into a state of disrepair. Slates had blown from the roof, smashed on the weed-covered path from lichgate and had not been replaced, guttering rusted and overflowed due to heavy rainfall because starlings regularly nested and roosted there, the big double doors fast conceding to the depredations of woodworm.

One weekly service on Sunday mornings was a last reminder that religion still clung to the decaying edifice, conducted by an ageing curate who was long past retirement. And when the time came, it was rumoured in the village that the church would become derelict. Because nobody wanted the church; that much was apparent by the dwindling congregation, which had now fallen below half-a-dozen, while the ranks of the godless, were swelling.

A young bishop in training, writing in his diocesan magazine, had offered concerns about the closure of this once beautiful church. A word had been sprayed on the entrance door with aerosol paint (he conveniently abstained from quoting the word or even mentioning that it had four letters), and a couple of graves had been ‘interfered’ with. Only on moonlit nights was any of the former elegance of St Mary’s Church restored. The ethereal silvery glow accentuated the architecture while obscuring the missing slates and crumbling stonework in shadow. Even the churchyard took on some degree of respectability. It was during these periods of a full moon that something came to worship.

Brother Petri Dimin had finished his writing and studies for the night. It was rather later than he imagined. All the paperwork and weighty books were stored in a humble briefcase. The leather crumbled with endless usage. Eye grew weary and eyelids resisted the urge to be anchored shut by sleep. With effort he headed towards the door and onto the weedy path. As beautiful as the moonlit church was, it still felt eerie and otherworldly. It was a dangerous place to be alone, so the villagers said. He planned to deliver the weekly order of bread and cake to the bakery before he went to bed.

Sample 3

Quote:

“To pursue the unattainable is insanity, yet the thoughtless can never refrain from doing so.” This was the epitaph upon the entrance gate of The Utopian Project Institution. A project secretive by nature, and yet deceitfully open to public eyes. No one could comprehend the barbarous treatment which happened beyond the gates.

The sun pours down and expands itself in all directions. It was like honey being spread upon toast. It’s light factitious in a universe of black. The lawn seemed to spread out for miles with its luscious blades of green. Pathways lead to numerous experiment and teaching chambers; each having a unique purpose. These ranged from swimming pools, lightning rooms, libraries, music studies, artist studios to laboratories. Each building was indispensable in the process of examining a special individual.

The overlord of this project was the mysterious and rarely seen Mr Black. No student could ever contact him. They will always be passed on to his advisors or deputy. This omission of presence leads to numerous rumours. Many considered him to be a devil, others a seer. It was quite bizarre how he seemed capable of controlling the place even then he was not there. He heard all and knew all through a system of spies and cameras. The operation could not be oversimplified. Mr Black could not risk outsiders snooping around as much as he could risk a revolt from within.

Today was a free day or a break. Each student was allowed to relax as they pleased, even when relaxing the observation continued. To know what made one tick would enable Mr Black to control them.

There was an individual trying to penetrate this institution. His name was Cyprus Martin. He sat within the waiting room ready to be registered. A group of parents had found this strange vampire; a noble request was given to him. This quest was to discover what was happening to the young ‘people’ within. There had been stories of children completely disappearing off the face of the earth. There were rumours that parents had been murdered so that the institution could have their children. It was Cyprus’s duty to determine fact from fiction.

His hair was as golden as the fingertips of Midas. It flowed to his shoulders. His eyes as green as the grass which grew here. Yet they were hopeful and secretive. They hide his emotions behind a mask. He dressed most in shades of purple and black. His cord jeans were purple and his t shirt black. He was of average building and other than his sickly pale complexion. He appeared to be normal.

The waiting room was very clinical. It reminded him of a hospital. The chairs were covered with faded leather and a pile of newspapers and puzzle books lay upon the table. Bagpipe music played over the radio. It was the sound of monotony. Cyprus was being tired of staring at the same four walls. He had been sitting there over an hour...

[Sigrutan]

heart

[Sigrutan]

heart

[Sigrutan]

heart

[Sigrutan]

heart

[Ghost on the Shelf]

Lightning in my brain...

Thunder in my chest...

Rain falls down my cheeks...

Smile on my lips...

Different is the ever changing path less traveled.

Hey there, you seem like a well versed and creative person and you have well in length posts. I'm rather interested in role playing with you and am open to playing pretty much anything. I can't get on everyday at least not all the time but I do try to post as much as possible and do my best to keep things interesting. I don't have any samples of my posting abilities at the moment but should you require one I'm sure I can come up with something to show my usual. I'm interested in a office kind of role play and preferably Shounen ai but I can also go het if you'd like. I was thinking we could converse over the plot or main idea and build it up as we go. If you're interested in role playing with me that is. If not I completely understand, so no worries.

[Sigrutan]

You don't need to provide a sample.The reason I have is to demonstrate the kind of roleplayer I am. I don't want someone applying only to be intimidated or disappointed with my posts. I would like to try a roleplay with you.

[Ghost on the Shelf]

Lightning in my brain...

Thunder in my chest...

Rain falls down my cheeks...

Smile on my lips...

Different is the ever changing path less traveled.

I see well that is a very helpful thing to do. Thank you.
Mm, if you have any requests or ideas for storyline or would preer to imply come up with a basic setting such as place, time, and sch then start from there I am open to either.