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I'm seeking to try a Disney roleplay or two. I have, admittedly, never done one, but I have around a decade-and-a-half's worth of experience with writing in general~

Some characters I'd like to try include:
- Phoebus (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)
- Quasimodo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)
- Beast (The Beauty and the Beast)
- John Smith (Pocahontas)
- Kocuom (Pocahontas)

Feel free to suggest others!

I expect partners to:
- be 21+
- be able to write novella (or at least multi-para) replies in general
- be okay with MxF romance
- be open to using Google Docs for writing and Discord for OOC chat

My Discord is Loveday#8313. Message me there to exchange writing samples~
Hey there~ Dandelo here, searching for another fan of the epic novel Gone With the Wind. I'd like to try my hand at either Rhett Butler or Scarlett O'hara and would love to find a kindred spirit with whom to discuss the book and movie.

I'm a novella/multi-para writer for what it's worth--I enjoy adding detail and reading detail. I also only write with people who are +21.

Hit me up on Discord and we can exchange writing samples and plot ideas: Dandelo#8313
It is reasonable to assume that most families keep at least one secret. Generally, that secret is something small and harmless, but occasionally it is a large and frightful thing, generations in the making—as was the case in Lady Downs’ family.

A story was told and passed down which spoke of some great wrongdoing committed by some misguided forefather at the expense of some magically inclined gypsy. The story went that, in a righteous rage, the gypsy swore that her antagonist would suffer greatly—the first male child born to him or his kin would assume the appearance of a terrible beast. Luckily, the subsequent five generations resulted in all female babies and the myth was mostly forgotten until the next in the line, the young bride of the Earl of Pembroke, Lord Downs, fell pregnant.

Hers was a difficult confinement and she, wretched and exhausted, ultimately bore her child in the midst of a terrible storm late one March. She had known almost immediately that something was amiss by the way her midwife’s eyes widened in horror. The babe was healthy, yes, but had not the appearance of a human child. The Earl, until the day of his untimely death some years later, rejected the boy for his monstrous appearance, but Lady Downs could not help but love her strange offspring.

That love persisted well into his adulthood when she realized that her companionship was not enough for him and he had grown lonely and despondent. Eagerly she cast about for some remedy for his depression and ultimately found it in the form of a young woman..

---

Rules:
- 21+
- Multi-para, Third-person, Past-tense
- Google Docs for writing, Discord for OOC chatting
- Be willing to double

I have always loved the Beauty and the Beast trope. I have also always loved historical roleplays and stories. Being the genius that I am, I thought I'd combine the two! How would you like to join me in a Victorian version of this beloved fairy tale?

Hit me up on Discord (Dandelo#8313) with a description of the kind of character you'd like to play opposite my beast, as well as any ideas you might have for the plot and a writing sample! I'd prefer that this not turn into a master/maid kind of story, so female characters of some social standing are preferred. Snark is also a plus--my characters are frequently very sarcastic.

It should be noted that I can be talked into other time periods in which to set this story, I just prefer the Regency and Victorian eras~

Writing Sample:
This is a writing sample which should give you some idea of the personality of my beast, as well as the typical length and level of detail involved in my replies. I average between 500-700 words per post and would like to see a similar level of detail in my partners' replies.

---

Lady Downs smiled at her guest’s reassurances, but her expression maintained the smallest quirk of apprehension. Juliette, she knew, could have no idea of what really lay in store for her. Harcourt Downs had none of the usual afflictions one might think of when confronted with an unusual appearance. ‘No,’ Lady Downs thought to herself, ‘She must be properly prepared for him.’ She could not, in good conscience, introduce the young woman to her son yet. They were not dealing with a mere cleft palate or abnormally large nose--Harcourt could almost be thought of as an entirely new species. Literally.

It seemed that Lady Downs would be denied the opportunity of further preparing Miss Tash, however, for they could hear through the closed door of the parlor that some commotion had occurred down the long hallway. Hurried footsteps passed the door, and the peaceful stillness of moments before was suddenly stirred and broken by what could only be described as a mighty roar. Lady Downs started at the sound, then sank slightly in her seat and held a hand to her temple in exasperation.

A voice, thunderous and deep, could be heard moving toward their room, snarling and pitching as it went, “The dishonor of it! The disgrace! Cartwright, move out of my way. I must speak to Lady Downs this very instant.” Lady Downs and Juliette could barely distinguish the hurried, murmured reply of the startled footman before the thunderous voice took up once more, “She is my mother! I need no introductions! Stand aside, I will open the door, myself.” Before Lady Downs had a chance to rise from her settee and go to the door, it had been thrown wide and a great, monolithic form emerged from the dimness of the hallway.

The creature (for that was what it appeared to be at first glance) was a little more than seven feet tall and, though dressed in pants and a white button-down shirt as any normal man might be, was clearly covered in long, glossy black fur save the coppery-red of his voluminous mane and the tuft of his long, lion-like tail. Two great rams horns extended from his forehead and curled around to either side of his massive head, and his face--all black save the pink of his slitted, goat-like nose--was contorted in a snarling grimace. His pointed teeth were clearly visible in his lionish snout, the lips there curled back in aggravation.

He appeared not to notice Juliette as he stalked from the doorway to his mother’s settee and demanded her attention, “Madame, I insist that you fire that disgrace of a valet this instant. See! See what he has done to my mane and tell me that a swift dismissal is not his just due!” He gestured with a great, claw-like hand at the reddish fur of his mane. There, framing his face, were a number of large coils of fur, apparently intentionally styled this way.

He threw up his hands, “He told me only half an hour ago that we were expecting company and then imposed upon my patience with his damned tendency toward the ‘latest fashions’.” He growled again and shook his head, causing the curls to bounce with gaiety that was clearly uncharacteristic, “Tell me, is it the latest fashion to look like a damned poodle?

Here at last, Lady Downs was given some opportunity to interject. She cleared her throat to capture the creature’s attention, then pointed with the turn of her gaze to where Juliette sat upon the couch nearby, “Harcourt, allow me to introduce you to our guest, Miss Tash.”

Harcourt started and swiftly turned his great head to see that there was, indeed, someone else in the room with them. With a sharp intake of breath, he straightened and turned to face her, suddenly acutely aware of how informally dressed he was and how improper his entrance had been. His eyes, pale gray and decidedly human in their shame, were instantly cast down at the floor as he gave a small bow to Juliette. “Forgive me for intruding..” was all he could manage before turning and departing the room almost as quickly as he had entered.

Lady Downs watched as her son disappeared, then slowly turned back to her guest to see how she handled the scene.
Disclaimer: The majority of my Batman knowledge extends as far as the Christian Bale movies. BUT--if you are patient, I'm willing to learn. I'm more than happy to conduct research where research is needed.

Me:
- 27F
- Multi-para, third-person, past tense
- EST Time Zone
- Google Docs for writing, Discord for ooc chatting

What I can offer you:
- detailed replies three times per week (or more)
- occasionally hilarious characters
- friendship~

You:
- 21+
- willing to provide a writing sample
- experienced roleplayer/writer
- friendly af
- in possession of DC knowledge superior to my own

I want a friend as well as writing partner. I want to get to know you and have some fun coming up with scene ideas and discussing character development. I can commit to around 3 replies per week, but I want to be able to just shoot the shit in between and hear how your day is going. Roleplaying is my main social outlet (is that weird?).

The Plot:

"And what qualifications have you?"

"Well, I was a nanny to five small children for several years before this, which I'm told is exactly the necessary experience for handling a single ahem eccentric bachelor."

So what's this plot idea I have in mind? Well, to begin with, I ask you---is there a more iconic DC duo than Batman and Alfred? (You thought I was going to say Robin, didn't you?)

BUT WHAT IF Batman didn't have his trusty butler sidekick? What if Alfred became sick or injured or otherwise incapacitated and Batman needed to replace him for an indefinite period of time? And what if Alfred's replacement came in the form of a well-put-together, exceptionally sassy young woman?

Admittedly, I am kind of stealing the idea from the Iron Man/Pepper Potts pairing, but work with me here.

My idea is that this story will involve adventure, intrigue, the forming of the close bonds of friendship, and maybe even a little slow-burn romance (actually this is non-negotiable, I just said this for dramatic effect).

...aaaand that's the gist. Obviously this is still very much up for discussion. For my part, I would like to play she-butler, and you would play Bruce Wayne.

Message me if interested~ My Discord is Dandelo#8313.
CLOSED - 02/02/2019

Hello there~ Call me Dandelo. :D I'm looking for one partner/friend for a long-term roleplay.

What I'm looking for:
- +18 F partners (who are willing to play both male and female characters)
- MxF romance
- A long-term story written in Google Docs, third-person/past-tense
- Friendly OOC chat over Discord
- Extensive plotting
- Interesting, flawed characters

What I can offer you:
- Friendship!
- A minimum of three or four (decent-sized) paragraphs per reply
- At least one reply every other day
- Characters who are sometimes hilarious
- Sample writing upon request
- Pictures of my pets

Settings/Characters of Interest:
This is probably a bit of a long shot, but I'd really like to find a partner for a Phantom of the Opera roleplay. I have some experience playing Erik (my version is generally based off of the musical rather than the book), but find that I have been playing male characters quite a bit lately. I'd like to find someone who is either willing to play Erik opposite my OC, or who is willing to double. I have some ideas for how the doubling would work, but please feel free to bring your own ideas!

Interested?
PM me with--
- blurb about yourself
- any ideas you might have for this story

...then we'll possibly move to Discord if things work out. It should be noted that I really enjoy plotting out a story in quite a bit of detail and would like for my partner to work with me to develop the main characters a little before we begin. I intend for this to be long-term, of course.

Erik Sample:
The production of Ernani was still in its early stages, but Erik could already see that it would likely be a complete disaster. The casting was dismal at best, given that the Populaire had lost its one best hope for greatness in Christine Daae--now long gone from Paris, if Erik had to guess. His beloved pupil had been gifted both by God and himself with the splendid voice that surely would have carried her far had she not chosen to forsake fame for fortune (and love, he grudgingly amended). His gifts of music had touched her soul, but not her heart, it seemed. With her rushed departure, he had once more been plunged back into the dark loneliness that settled in the belly of the Opera House. He had watched the place burn and had been certain of his own demise--but the universe had different designs for him.

At this moment he sat concealed within the blessed darkness of Box Five for the sole purpose of witnessing the depths to which the accursed managers would sink to help fund the rebuilding of the Opera House. In one hand he clutched his mask, and in the other a drink. He had never been particularly keen on alcohol, but found he could not eat with Christine's absence weighing so heavily upon his heart. Even the news of the Populaire's imminent rebirth could not raise him from the depths of his despair and that was months ago. Still he suffered, unable to create beauty as he once had done, unable to groom the members of the Opera, to guide them as the good shepherd he once believed himself to be. His muse had left him for another, better man, and he was entirely crushed by the fact. He frequently found himself wondering if she was happy wherever she was, and if she ever thought of him.

Erik was not a small man. Tall and broad in the shoulders, he barely fit comfortably in the plush seats of his box. He wore a black wig to conceal his thin, wispy white hair, but he might have been very handsome were it not for the matter of his shocking deformity. The entire right side of his face was horribly disfigured and seemed to resemble a skull. His skin was pale almost to the point of translucency, giving him still more the appearance of a ghost or dead man. His eyes, however, were golden and glittering like twin flames. If one could bring herself to look past his decided ugliness, one would find that his eyes held a tremendous amount of intelligence. They were eyes that had seen all manner of horrors, but also beauty in its purest form.

He gazed down at the stage where the players were gathered and reviewing their scenes, and could only roll his eyes. Why had he left the comfort and seclusion of his home by the lake for this nonsense? What had he hoped to gain except to infuriate himself with the inadequacy of the Opera's remaining singers and dancers? He had neither the strength nor the desire to correct them, but the imperfections still bothered him greatly. He downed the last of his drink and stifled a cough as the bitter taste ran down the back of his throat and into his empty, waiting stomach.

Allegedly the new patron was to make an appearance today. Perhaps he had thought to catch a glimpse of the Populaire's "new hope."
Bump~
CLOSED - 02/08/2019

Hello there~ Call me Dandelo. :D I'm looking for one partner/friend for a long-term roleplay.

What I'm looking for:
- +18 F partners (who are willing to play both male and female characters)
- MxF romance
- A long-term story written in Google Docs, third-person/past-tense
- Friendly OOC chat over Discord
- Extensive plotting
- Interesting, flawed characters

What I can offer you:
- Friendship!
- A minimum of three or four (decent-sized) paragraphs per reply
- At least one reply every other day
- Characters who are sometimes hilarious
- Sample writing upon request
- Pictures of my pets

Settings/Characters of Interest:
At the moment I have an idea for a story that would be set around 1948 in Hollywood, CA. My character is a swarthy, stubborn producer with a checkered past, and yours could be anything! Maybe the up-and-coming starlet he selects for his next movie or even his estranged wife! This story is definitely up for discussion, so come prepared to plot! See the prompt at the end of this ad for an idea of what I have in mind.

Interested?
PM me with--
- blurb about yourself
- any ideas you might have for this story
- maybe a response to my prompt?

...then we'll possibly move to Discord if things work out. It should be noted that I really enjoy plotting out a story in quite a bit of detail and would like for my partner to work with me to develop the main characters a little before we begin. I intend for this to be long-term, of course.

A willingness to do research so we're somewhat historically accurate is always a plus.

Prompt:
The Golden Canary was a fixture on the Sunset Strip, with its high, white stucco facade shaped in the tiered, art deco style that had been so popular in the 1920’s when it was built. A flashing, red and black sign was mounted over the big, glass double doors that led into the lobby, a fluttering bird perched over the word ‘canary,’ which was written in a graceful script. Starting at 5:00PM sharp, the sign blazed into life, alerting passerby that the business was open to guests--but only certain guests. The club was a fairly exclusive one, patronized by only Hollywood’s finest. They would roll up in the circular drive that curled around the front of the establishment, slide out of their fine, new cars, and walk the red carpet that led inside with many a tuxedoed host to greet them.

The lobby, also styled in art deco, was large and circular with a glittering tile floor and a raised, dome-shaped ceiling that culminated in a crystal chandelier. The walls were papered in a dark, dusty purple patterned with golden leaves and geometric lines, and framed by dark wood paneling. A matching dark wood host stand sat to one side of the lobby, near the large double doors that led into the dining room. Two hostesses stood behind the stand dressed in identical black and white dresses, their hair similarly styled with large curls perched on top of their heads and smaller curls tumbling down the sides and onto their shoulders. They smiled brilliantly to each guest who entered and cheerfully led them to their tables--for each regular guest had a preferred table to which they always expected to be led.

The dining room was large and oval-shaped. The floor, dark wood like the paneling around the outer walls, was tiered like that of a theater with rows of circular booths lining each level. Large columns rose up from the booths at intervals and were styled to look like royal palm trees, their graceful fronds obscuring the domed ceiling above in the atmospheric dimness. The booths themselves were plush, padded with dusty purple cushions and lit by small lamp fixtures with dusty purple shades which provided low, warm, yellow light in the otherwise darkened room. Directly across from the entryway, situated at the lowest point of the room spread a rounded stage from which rows of smaller tables radiated like a sun. The space around the stage could be cleared to create a dancefloor, but tonight it provided additional seating for the influx of guests in attendance.

This evening was one of a handful over which the Canary had managed to book the ever-popular Ella Fitzgerald to perform. It was a fairly momentous occasion, for the Canary had never before allowed a colored singer to perform on their stage. Many among their regulars were great fans of Miss Fitzgerald and had submitted reservations with the express purpose of hearing her sing that very evening. The Canary anticipated an even larger turn-out than their usual packed Friday nights and had planned accordingly with the extra tables and seating, as well as additional hostesses and waiters, many of whom could be seen hurrying about from table to table delivering drinks from the bar in the back of the room.

Miss Fitzgerald was not scheduled to perform until 7:00PM that evening, but already the dining room was filled with expectant guests. At one booth, situated near the front at the edge of the dancefloor and a little to the left of the stage, sat one man in particular. Even while seated he seemed a little taller than average, and was dressed in a grey suit of Italian make which accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. The swarthy tint of his skin and his coal-black hair, eyebrows, and close-clipped mustache all hinted at his father’s Southern European heritage. The only remnant of his Irish mother were the piercing, wide-set, grey eyes that flickered with a dangerous intelligence in the dimness. Something about his eyes spoke of knowledge and awareness well beyond his thirty-five years.

He was “Mr. Castillo” to those who knew him a little, “Cain” to those who knew him well, and “Tony” only to anyone who wished to receive an icy glare and a sharp word. He was also the founder and owner of Castillo Films, his production company. It was his fame as a leading actor in the mid to late 1930s that had propelled the success of his company, but he maintained his fame even as a producer--it was clear by his table’s proximity to the stage, and by the fact that his table was populated by several doting young women, all several years younger than he.

Cain was often surrounded by beautiful women, despite the common knowledge that he had been married these eight years past to the famed ballerina, Evelyn Miller. His courtship and subsequent engagement to the elegant Miss Miller had been a passionate, whirlwind affair, and highly publicized when it came to light in the winter of 1939. They had met at the premier of one of his most popular films and he had fallen hard and fast for her serious, emerald eyes. It had been obvious in the way he had paraded her about to various events and clubs after their marriage in 1940 that he was exceedingly proud of his catch, and she always seemed just as charmed and enamored of him. It was only after he returned from the War--discharged in 1943 to recover from the serious injuries he had sustained, and a changed man--that their seemingly perfect marriage appeared to fall to pieces around them. By the summer of 1944 and merely a year after his return, it was known that they were separated and had been ever since. Rumors, however, suggested that Cain was still very much in love with his estranged wife.

As it was, he seemed content to let his glamorous female guests (whose names he had not bothered to remember) chatter amongst themselves, not interested enough to join in their conversation. The girls seemed to know instinctively not to try to engage their host in small talk lest they receive a condescending glance or remark, and were well aware that they served only one purpose in being present at Mr. Castillo’s table--ornamentation.

Cain, himself, was content simply to listen to the jazz band that played on stage in the interlude, lazily smoking a cigarette and sipping from a highball glass filled with whiskey. His expression was relatively relaxed and it would have been difficult for a casual observer to say what went on inside his head.
Seeking one more partner.
Added a new character. Seeking one more partner~
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