Looking For Role Play PartnersI'm Polo, and I'm looking for rp partners! I'm under 20, and would prefer a partner in the same age range. I would also love someone who writes about as much as I do. I usually write 5+ paragraphs depending on what you give me, but I also reply slow, I only have so much muse! I would love someone who can help plot, as I don't always know where to go with my ideas. I do like to talk OOC, and I tend to make memes or send you tiktoks I found about our characters and in certain situations I might even draw them. I am in college, so I might be quiet for a day, but my absences usually don't extend over that, and if they do I'll be sure to let you know!
Will Do Animals: dogs, horses, cats, etc.. I have the most experience with these. Humans: I have somewhat less experience with them, but I'm absolutely willing to try! I would prefer one of these at the moment. Supernaturals: I've never done these before, but honestly they sound super fun! Fantasy: I'm down for really any sort of fantasy; magic, dragons, knights in shining armor, etc.. Realistic: I'll definitely do historical realism, like medieval, pirates, Victorian, etc.. Feel free to suggest more! This list is definitely in "including but not limited to" format, and usually I'm open to most things so long as they don't fall under the "will not do" list.
Will Not Do Furries/anthro: Nothing against them, I just don't have experience with them and don't find them interesting. Strictly Romance: Where's the spice? The angst? The humor? The rivalry?? If you do convince me it would probably be a subplot, and slowburn, maybe enemies/rivals to lovers? And, even more deliciously, lovers back to enemies?? Immediate romance just doesn't do it for me. NSFW Topics: I'm fine with gore, violence, dark themes, etc., but I prefer not to deal with sexual topics. Canon Characters: I'm okay if they're a throwaway or present in an offhand mention, but I prefer to use and interact with original characters. Slice of Life: I just can't really get into these. I'm already living and I don't find the appeal of writing about someone else living. Fandom: These are meh for me. If you can excavate my current interest from that sphere of soap I call a brain I might do it, but generally these aren't my favorites.
Now that you've read all that, I would love to meet you! I can do Lioden and Discord, but I'm on discord a lot more and I tend to chat and joke much more on there than on Lioden. But if you just want the rp that's fine too, and I can do a public thread or dms. On Discord I usually make a server. If you're interested please reply below or dm me with a role play sample of your own and whether you prefer discord or lioden.
Since the formatting on my original post is atrocious with the addition of spoilers, I've included a few recent samples for you to get a feel for my style and post length
Even if James' initial purpose for winding up in the same place at the same time as Elliot was lost to him, it wouldn't matter. The ocean was empty, devoid of anything except mild waves. There wasn't even the hint of a mast breaking the horizon line, much to Elliot's disappointment. Anything to get out of this conversation. Perhaps if another ship appeared, Elliot could shove James off the nest and, if confronted, claim he'd simply gotten overzealous with his pointing. After all, what if it had been a navy ship? Surely it was good hospitality to point such a thing out.
But James was, unfortunately, right. Stiff and obnoxious and overbearing and rude and with a stick up his ass that could double as a mast in a pinch, but right. Elliot didn't have a great deal of restraint left, and if he'd been fortunate enough to have his dagger on his person, James would be nothing more than a number in the census, their time together just a vague footnote on the leather bound, decade-old ship's log Elliot kept on his desk; 'don't pul navie men from the watr'
Unfortunately for all parties, this navy man had already been pulled, and no amount of regret would throw him back in the water. Only force. But he was short enough his center of gravity was low enough that it would likely be more difficult to push him over the railing than it was worth. James truly had no consideration for Elliot's mental and emotional health, being so short. It made his life so much more difficult.
His gaze snapped from the open, empty ocean to James' face when the man spoke. The corner of Elliot's lip twisted downward, as if wounded. Sure, he would stab James in the back at the first chance he got, but he was untrustworthy? That stung. He was very trustworthy. Occasionally.
Elliot almost flinched at the usage of his name. Normally he didn't mind, but James said it like the teachers at Eton, or the principal when he sat across from him in an uncomfortable chair. I'm disappointed in you, Elliot. Dumping the wet specimen fetal pigs into your English teacher's bag is not the sort of behavior we approve of.
Peering down at Ham, who had just cracked open his second walnut with an incoherent shriek of delight, he shrugged his shoulders. "Don't flatter yourself. If I wanted to stab you in the back I'd have done it already." His eyes remained on Ham perhaps longer than was necessary as he slowly realized what he'd said. Surely scientists didn't drop death threats. He was tripping up, and not just because of the lie. James seemed able to paw through Elliot's buttons, hitting every one as he went. Elliot didn't think he'd ever wanted to punch someone so badly, and he'd served under a fairly notorious captain. Captain Chins he'd called him, which had earned Elliot nothing but a few nervous laughs from the other boys and a solid smack across the jaw from the boatswain. But, like James, he wasn't wrong.
He practically snorted at James' words. 'Honor', 'respect', 'country', none of those were particularly high on his list. In fact, the first three slots were taken by 'me, myself, and I'. And especially not to his country, who would likely enjoy nothing more than watching him swing from a noose. No, he owed nothing to them. And nothing to James. And nothing to the lost lives who he'd held at sword point while his crew hustled valuables and goods from their holds. Perhaps they would weigh on him in the future, when he was old and gnarled, but they didn't now. At least, not usually. And now was all he had.
"Dreary, much?" He jabbed, a rather careless response to James' selective wording. It was clear the other man held human lives in high regard. Ironic, really, for a man whose job hinged on ending them. Not like Elliot was one to talk. "Look at the sun, we're heading southeast." Navigation had always come easily to Elliot, and as he gestured to the bright sun overhead, still climbing from this morning, it was clear they were at least heading east. "We'll drop you off in your precious Portugal alive and well, still clutching your pearls." He sneered, leaning into his elbows again. "Unless you lost them not-running from Naval service, of course."
His triumph, however, was fleeting. James' response to his threat wasn't quite what he'd anticipated. In fact, the man's furrowed eyebrows even softened. Was he suicidal? Perhaps he'd jumped in the water to end it all, but as he continued on Elliot realized he was just awful. Elliot's own brows knitted together in annoyance. What else didn't suit him?! And threats suited him just fine, thank you!
"I wouldn't say you're too adept at the art either. Is that why you can't get any higher than lieutenant? Captains, commodores, whatever the fuck else there is, they threaten. Were your teeth not sharp enough for their ranks, Leuitenant?" Elliot hurled the man's title back in a similar fashion. He was just about ready to attempt homicide with his bare hands. Perhaps he could take one of Ham's two remaining nuts and cram them down James' throat. The bird would be furious, but rather an aggressive Ham than a James.
He left the oversight of James dumping the water out his boots unaddressed, instead throwing up his hands, losing his balance against the railing for a moment. "You must walk around with a small ocean in your boots, you've been sloshing everywhere you go! You'll start molding if you keep it up much longer." He snorted, looking to the side as if the idea of a moldy man on board was simply too much to bear.
It seemed that death was a far stronger motivator than pride. Frankly, the thought of dying, of bleeding out all alone in the middle of the forest, barely occurred to him. He was more aghast at the thought of losing, and to a coyote, nonetheless. But here he was, the blood from his armpit still running freely down his leg, and red stains marking his scruff and hind leg. He was honestly quite thankful no one was around to see it.
He crouched uneasily, head lowered to protect his throat, as the coywolf seemed to shudder with joy. He was on the verge of victory- who wouldn't? But that only made Ody hate him more. Lips curled up in another vicious snarl, monolith paws lifted to carry him closer, when the coywolf darted towards him. His jaws gaped forward in a reaction, snaking to meet the coywolf's own teeth in some horrible clatter of canines, when he held back. Wait, he coached himself, in a last moment of sanity before jaws closed round his neck. The coyote was under his jaws, firmly attached like a leech in a river.
Yield, his opponent snarled, and Odyssey forced a twisted sort of laugh from his place between the coyotes jaws. Not yet.
The time, Ody took a fleeting moment to think, to plan, even as his throat slowly began to constrict. He twisted his head to get round the Coyote's skull, before allowing his broad face, jaws agape, to plummet to the coyote's nape, just before his shoulders. And he landed. Hard. His teeth sank in deep, finally allowed the luck to do what they were meant to. Blood met his tongue, dyed his teeth, and ignited a thrill in his gut. Absolute joy soared through his veins as he continued to push, aiming to force the coyote down beneath his weight. He arched his back, shivers of pain rolling through his body as he tried his best to work around the creature at his neck. But he pushed anyway, desperately hoping the coywolf's teeth weren't sharp enough, or deep enough, to rip out his throat along with the excess skin.
Vander stumbled back as the stranger leaped to his feet, his breaths still coming far too quickly to be comfortable. His legs ached and his back hurt, and he was sore all over from hitting the water. And he was tired. Tired of fighting with this man, of the stress that twisted his stomach like a damp dish towel, of the helplessness he felt when faced with the taller, more aggressive rider. Throwing the gun was his way of trying to get a handle on the situation, to wrest control out of the other man's hands and into his own.
Apparently, it didn't help.
His eyes narrowed as the stranger before him gestured, and a movement behind caught his attention. He cursed inwardly again. He'd forgotten about the dragon. How could he forget a dragon? He watched as it limped across the sand, noting the injury and the odd tilt of its head. So it hadn't escaped unscathed, either.
His gaze jerked back to his aggressor, adrenaline and the barest beginnings of panic seeping into his system. Before had been somewhat less terrifying, less intimate, he hadn't been pinned between two dragons with nothing but his knife, with which he had minimal skill, to defend him. But now as the man discussed eating Rune, he couldn't help but imagine his beautiful dragon stretched over a butcher's block, carmine scales dulled with blood and death.
His hands fell to his sides, not in defeat, but in fists. His mind ran a mile a minute as he tried to formulate a reply, his fingernails digging into his palms. "You couldn't even shoot him." He replied, his voice somewhat quieted by fear, but his words sharpened into the cruelest Vander could make them. He tried to phrase it like the inability to puncture Rune's scales had been this stranger's own shortcoming, not one of the pistol or dragon. Perhaps he could play on this man's ego. "What makes you think you could carve him up? His scales are impenetrable."
Tough, perhaps, but not the perfect armor. Rune had several soft spots through which he could be spitted. His throat was loose and rather like alligator skin, as were his armpits. And, of course, any dragon could be killed through the mouth or eyes. He shook his head slightly to rid it of these thoughts, uncomfortable with the image of his dragon roasting over an open fire. His sandy, damp hair fell over an eye, and in the moment it distracted him this stranger had stepped into his space.
He stepped back on instinct, allowing the taller man to force him back until his bare heel met with Rune's warm scales. The dragon let out a low, guttural rumble, and Vander reached a hand back as if to steady himself, finding comfort in the natural heat. For a moment he toyed with whipping out his knife; they were close enough for him to gut the stranger if he caught him enough by surprise, but that didn't sit right with Vander, either. The decision weighed in his gut like a sharp stone, so that no matter which way he turned it his fingers pricked and bled.
He wished Rune were healthy, so he could drive this stranger and his dragon away. But he would have to make do, and protect Rune while he was at it. So he employed all he had that would leave at least the stranger physically unscathed: his words.
He straightened up, and though he did not step into the other man's space, the movement brought them slightly closer. "What are you gonna do with the dragon?" He snapped, gesturing to Rune. His words came faster now, sharper, though his heart still hammered in his chest. "Roll him around so you could build a nice fire somewhere? Carve him up and use him as shelter? You couldn't even shoot the damn thing!" He reiterated, and he felt Rune's offense to his words.
He threw his hands up as if exasperated, acting out emotions he was far from feeling in a desperate attempt to take the situation back. "Or maybe build him a little prison out of sand, hm? But don't take on any projects that are too big, your dragon doesn't seem too fit, either." As the adrenaline wore off his fists shook at his side, but against all intelligent thought, he continued.
"Oh, I know! You feed me to my dragon," He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Rune. "Give it a few days, and then eat him. Extra calories, and problem solved! And maybe, you'll even absorb some of my skills." Now Vander was trying to sell himself as useful, indispensable, even. His tone changed from sharp and biting to something softer, though still crueler than comfort for Vander.
"Like fishing, a near encyclopedic knowledge of tropical flora and fauna," He knew how to fish, but an encyclopedic knowledge he certainly did not have. But he figured he could fake it. What's the worst that could happen: this stranger gets poisoned and dies? Problem solved. "And I'm sure it's flattery but I've also been called inventive," He put a finger down, as if counting off for each item on the list. "creative, reliable, and, of course," He leveled his gaze to Bill as if his last words were a threat. "I don't forget easily."
Corro was lucky he hadn't arrived in time to hear the talk of Konami. Such a thing might have sent him spiraling right back into his shell. For he was heavy and heartbroken and tired, god, so tired, but he was still young. Only five, though he'd known enough heartbreak for lifetimes. And at the mention of that name he tended to recoil and shut out the world and try his absolute best to forget her. Star had been sick even before she came, he could not blame her for that, but Rellie? Her world had been perfect before Konami, and thus, Corro's was too. And then he'd brought her home and everything had changed and Star got sicker and Rellie left and then Kat left and everything was gone, and then Konami left too. All of it still left a bitter, nauseating taste in his mouth, and so he was never eager to remember it.
But gunmetal stallion hadn't heard, and so he'd offered his words of assistance and smiled softly to have seen them work. Maybe, just maybe, he still had a way with kids. For buried beneath the sediment of loss and desperation and bone-numbing exhaustion was a like-minded child, standing in the stream, begging for someone to play. No one had come to do so in a very long time.
Neat little ears remained carefully attuned to little Rai, taking in her every word with some measure of pride. She was just like Rellie and sometime, long ago, he'd been able to speak to Rellie. A soft smile shaped his features as she spoke, nodding along with her words. "I wish I'd known your parents." He hummed, though almost immediately his heart fell apart as she turned away, 'they don't want me, so I don't care.' And then she was gone, off to the lake, and Corro's heart ached for her. In that moment, any fears he might have had evaporated. She was like Rellie, just like his beloved little daughter, but before she turned to flame, before the lake evaporated at the curl of her lip. She wouldn't burn him if he was careful.
But before he could follow, dear Katherina turned to look at him. She spoke softly, and despite it some small part of him couldn't help but dredge up the memory of sharp words, and he shuddered internally. But his smile would fade as he sighed before offering an answer. "I'm okay. I just... miss them."
Corro had been around for five years. Two of those had been spent by his mother's side, one of them alone, and two of them with his beloved herd. He'd known wise old stallions, spry mares, defensive fathers, tender mothers, and not one, not a single one of them, had ever told him how damn long it hurts to lose someone. He had always been detached from death, though now he knew it intimately, and thus he'd never learned how long and how painfully it takes a wound to heal. And with a squaring of his jaw, he decided Rai wouldn't grow up the same way. Offering a soft nudge to Kat the stallion stepped forward.
The cracking of thin ice would surely announce the grey's presence, a shudder running down his spine at the chill. He halted just beside Rai, not too close so as to force a conversation, but close enough so she wouldn't feel alone.
"I don't know if Kat ever told you, but I had-" He paused, shutting his eyes tight for a moment. "-have a daughter. But she ran away. She yelled at me before she went, she said horrible things, but you know what?" Corro allowed the question to hang for a heartbeat, as he rolled the words round in his mouth. "I still love her. Every day I do. If anything I love her more, like maybe-" Like maybe my love will bring her home. This went unsaid, for it was both too raw for Corro to trust his voice and perhaps too heavy for the filly. "Anyone who raised a filly like you had to have been good parents. They still love you, I know it." Another silence, though not uneasy, settled upon the stallion. It was clear this conversation was doing him at least some sort of good.
"It's a love that isn't like anything else, it doesn't know boundaries. You can yell and shout and hate and curse and still, we'll love you. You can leave your herd and vanish somewhere and for all they know you could be dead-" He stopped for a moment, staring at the water. God, he hoped she wasn't dead. "And we'll still love you."
His last words were softer, meant to soothe as opposed to educate. As if a father calming his newborn child, or a mother cradling a babe to her breast. "And I know that I'm not your real dad, but if you want, I-" He was really putting himself out there, and took a short second to gather his words and thoughts. "If you want, I could love you like one." Corro smiled softly, seeking eye contact with Rai for the first time since the conversation began. And his smile? Oh, it was real. For the first time in a very long time, it was real.
MidKnight's pure black coat was covered in leaves. She shoke her fur to clear it.
She looked around just more mountains. She wandered the dark forest by the river. She laid down . She stayed completely still. She hoped that that she could find something to eat. A small rabbit appeared. She waited for it to come close and pounced. She killed it. "Some food at last" MidKnight ate the rabbit.
She buried the remains of the carcass. She then went to the river and dipped her muzzle in cleaning it and getting herself some water. She snuck back into the forest barely seen because of night coloured fur. She found a little den under a tree. She nosed her head in and saw that it was of a decent size. She went completely inside. She found it acceptable and went back outside. She found some leaves and grass and pulled this inside the little den. She made a comfortable den inside. She laid down and curled up. It was day and she perfected the night. She could see well Then and hunting was easier. Yeah there were more folklore about but she could stayed easily hidden. Her midnight black fur helped her a lot. Her tail was over her nose and she faced the entrance. The entrance was not big and she only just had fit through it so she should be safe here or at least safer then out in the open.
I would like to do discord. I will be a little slow to respond when doing literate rp but do my best. and I have social anxiety as well so I understand. Obviously it is different for each person.
Hi, if you're still looking for a partner, I'm interested! Group RPs don't cut it for me anymore so I'm looking for some 1x1 stuff.
I can write a little or a lot, depending on what I'm given/how inspired I'm feeling, but at a minimum you'll get one solid paragraph that will give you something to reply to. I'd prefer a human RP, as that's what I'm most interested in, but I wouldn't mind meeting in the middle and doing some sort of shifter RP if you're more interested in animals. Supernatural RPs are my favourite, so vampires, ghosts, and the like, but I'm open to anything. I do like romance, however it's strictly extreme slow-burn; it happens when it happens (if it happens), and only after a variety of angst-y or interesting situations that build upon the relationships of our characters.
Here's a sample, it's a bit old since I stopped RP'ing for a while, but I'd say my writing is near enough the same:
Bill felt the impact before he could even recognise what was going on, his vision reduced to a blur of black and red scales, the world spinning around him as he scrabbled to hold onto Wyrd's reins. He could hear his own dragon screech in alarm, along with the strained roars of another unfamiliar animal. If he lost hold of his dragon, it was game over - she was his only lifeline as they hurtled towards the sea. It was easier said than done, however, and with most of his body taut from cold, Bill fell into the icy water, separated from his dragon. Despite the roughness of the sea above, below the unrelenting waves was entirely different - it was calm, like everything was in slow motion, and he felt his eyes slowly droop shut.
For one, horrible moment, Bill thought that he'd never resurface, the embrace of the frigid water all too easy to succumb to. Yet, through his bond, he could feel Wyrd's sheer desperation for his survival, and it was enough to spur him on. Clawing at the water, he forced himself upwards, taking a big, gasping breath once he'd broken out of the water. It was hard to remain above the waves, and for every lungful of air he took, he was pushed down and swallowed twice as much seawater. Bill was desperate to grasp onto something, anything, but the current was too strong to fight. He couldn't tell where he was, or even if he was being dragged even further out to sea.
"Wyrd! Please, help!" Bill screamed, hoping that the dragon would come to him, instead of vice versa. He couldn't stay afloat for much longer; his clothes were too heavy, and his limbs flailed aimlessly against the unrelenting force of the waves. Just as he was about to go under for the second and final time, he was plucked out of the water by the scruff of his shirt. Bill feebly pushed off his goggles, letting them hang loosely around his neck. Though he was concerned that he'd been picked up by his opponent's dragon, he was reassured to see black instead of red, his body relaxing completely in her hold. Despite his rescue, they weren't out of the woods yet - Wyrd seemed to have issues taking flight, opting to swim with the current rather than breaking free from the water entirely.
Bill couldn't tell how long they'd been swept around by the current, in fact he couldn't think much of anything at all, so when Wyrd placed him onto dry ground, he simply keeled over into the sand. Wyrd curled her tail around him, in an attempt to keep him warm - it was moments like these in which a fire spitting dragon would come in handy, but Wyrd could do no such thing. It took Bill a couple of minutes to right himself, water pouring out of his mouth in one long stream, chest heaving for more oxygen. He hoped that whoever had attacked him had drowned in the water, or at the very least, had fled afterwards.
Anyway, if any of that sounds good to you, shoot me a PM at Capsmule#0863 , as I don't check LD much. I am a little busy, so replies may or may not be frequent - though I always make sure to chat OOC more often.
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