Rockette

—𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗—𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐—

_void.

—𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗—𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐—

_void.

—𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗—𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐—

_void.

—𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗—𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐—

𝚄𝙽 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝟸𝟷 -- 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝟸𝟶𝟻𝟶.

What attracts you about an interest check?

So, would you say that it is best to organize a story prompt like so (as this is the image I get when reading your description but I'm a slow person so I might be misunderstanding):

Title of the RP: The RP of RPington
[insert image]
_{dark | gritty | bad writing | racing cars | also dogs}

Hider

And then the actual 'explanation' goes here?

@Odin

It's one I'd recommend and use for myself. It's easier to scroll through if you have a large number of prompts, ideas, plots or suggested material. An image may not be necessary unless it's scaled-down enough and applies to the narrative. But you've pretty much got it down.
This is how I use it:

^{title. -- sub-title if applicable or a summarization that fits into a sentence or less.}

themes ◆ subjects ◆ terms ◆ possible restrictions◆ etc.

^{_____________________________________________________________________________________}

&

^{and the rest is history.}

I prefer smaller texts myself and love to use the indent feature. But you can easily strip the sub, sup and header 3 tags:

title. -- sub-title if applicable or a summarization that fits into a sentence or less.

themes ◆ subjects ◆ terms ◆ possible restrictions◆ etc.
^{_____________________________________________________________________________________}

&

and the rest is history.

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

_{started blending in .gifs into images for pontential character headers. I'm wanting to do such for possible signatures or banners for further practice.}

What attracts you about an interest check?

sections -- personally, a long list of rules is a little off-putting to me. Of course, this begs the topic of weeding out the masses and addresses compatibility, but I prefer that be left to the discussion process, give and take on ideas and collaborate upon prompts. This process is often telling into how you might get along with someone and if your writing styles mesh. I don't really care to read "do's and do not's" that are often common courtesy, requirements of gender -- age I understand -- and so and so forth. To me, that could easily be covered in a "getting to know the writer" blurb, or as I've done, a small disclaimer. More or less a brief introduction that's telling enough about you in regards to availability and what to expect. Including plots, and prompts, is something else I like to see. I don't care for sectioned-bulleted "pairings" but often I regard these as potential cues rather than out-right requests to a romance requirement. Take what is given, and build upon that.

imagery -- I'm beyond guilty of this. I've dressed up threads obnoxiously so, but I enjoy the process, and I'm not likely to change that. Now given the former, I've done such in a "minimalist" fashion; calming colours of grey, silver, black and white -- I find bright and lurid to be searing to the eye against the background of the guild -- and I'm fond of smaller text. Simple images, a small header cradled by a title, introduce a quote or so -- if you want -- and you're good to go. You want things that reflect and borrow from one another and go well in hand. Complex photographs pair better with basic texts rather than cursive and vice versa with simple images paired better with flowing scripts. Use one large header or smaller ones in a "power of three" format.

build-up & organization-- a primary title followed by your selected image -- if at all, for even text can be manipulated in presentation, using header formats on top of smaller, accentuated texts -- or an image set upon a title. Images are telling but not wholly important, but if you build upon what is given, this shouldn't be an issue. People are rather lazy, so sometimes it's best to get straight to the point -- I've had to tell myself this -- and come down to a brief section about yourself and any specifics you might have and feel crucial to include. Follow up on prompts, plots, starting from most desirable and leading from there, indicate a preference if needed. I write my plot sections with key terms and themes and hide the rest away in a hider so as not to clutter the layout of my thread. Close it out with something brief and that doesn't distract away from what has already been written, miscellaneous information maybe that won't fit anywhere else.

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

^_______◆^{____________________________________________________________________________}

ɴ ɪ ᴄ ᴏ ʟ ᴀ ꜱ ʜ ᴀ ʜ ᴇ ᴇ ᴅ

_{The mother of the East, a woman heralded as a Queen of the dominating cliffs that her hold spirals over, ruthless as the peaks she commands and the waves crashing mercilessly upon her shores liken to her tumultuous gaze of ice-sheering blue. Whilst described often as cold, calculating, manipulative and cruelly deducting to her opposition of neighboring houses, Nicola is stalwart in her eternal devotion to her land and people, for all that she does is in the name of golden hawks and the sanctuary of her gilded family. She was the eldest of her many kin, they were proud of seven brothers and sisters, and the only one rumoured to be alive to this day -- speculation has risen that she possess one brother somewhere upon the adjacent continent but nothing has been founded upon the tale. She's a woman that struck away from the coiling norm of the realm and chose her own husband, whispered that he was foretold to be hers by the storms that collide in constant over the seas. Nicola adores her children, despite her coldness to their innocent hearts, but she is also a woman of power, grace, and fortune, and will see to whichever means to keep it and her house as one.}

^{____________________________________________________________________________}◆◆^_______

^{[ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ]}

The Consuming Fire

Greatly interested in playing a CCF member.

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

<sub>_______________________________________________________________________________________

𝚢 𝚘 𝚞 𝚠 𝚎 𝚛 𝚎 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚕 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚜 𝚑 𝚘 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚛 𝚘 𝚞 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚍 𝚊 𝚛 𝚔 𝚗 𝚎 𝚜 𝚜</sub>

^{_______________________________________________________________________________________}

When it happens, it happens fast.

It blurs into singular motions warped in strides, it's a quickness that lopes and plods with terrifying haste suspended in the gloom, haunted by a scarlet glow and glimmers of baited bone that snap rigidly through shadow. Emma inhales, sharp, whistling through gapped lips and teeth and the banked darkness at her heels is abloom, expanding far and wide and whippingly fast in its security as such rapidly attaches to Damien's casted shadow. Miniscule twitches of muscle within her hand suddenly spasm, a quivering tell of danger that spells coldness across her limbs, rigid and binding, she gasps around the wealth of power pooling across their connection that arises within her and surrenders her visual to rejoin his own graces. Emma moves, and when she does, the eclipse of the night responds with haunting tilts of the sky, stars suspended in colliding pings that reflect upon her eyes brightened by swirling starlight.

But they move much quicker than she, her person guided back, told to remain at the water's edge less she come to harm; stay back, we've got this. You'll only get in the way. She knows she's not useful in such an affront, her prowess is afforded to decimation and subtle harm, something that festers and accelerates treacherously slow, rather than the sudden and harshness of outright strength. Emma gazes upon those thick into the fray, summoning weapons of valour and within the images of their patronage that christens them almost godly. Raw potential and power coiled upon the fringes of warrior intrigue and brutality. Champions, she thinks sudden and swift, landing on shields, rapiers, manipulated alloys and righteous crests of a manifest. Mortal frailty is not found here and she is breathless in reproach and perhaps fear of the sudden unknown. She seeks out Damien helplessly, her shadow a flicker of a connection that clutches desperately to his slickly coated shoulders quivering broad and weighted in his power, her palms burn, but she cannot respond beyond wet gasps and wide eyes rapt in diving nebulas donned in concern.

"Damien..." she breathes on a feathered whisper and with Shadow now formed, Emma quiets and stills, hair lazily toiling upon an unseen breeze.

Such a creature is not unknown to her entirely, it's akin to an exposition of her eternal nightmares, endless skies, and careening shadows, compiling haphazardly amidst her waking world and stilling within her bones. The voice sluices upon her pores, blackened and rippling with malice, every assault and blinding attack christened white and blinding, martial competence that blurs seamlessly together as they attack. Terrifying screeches peel through her ears with wanting pain, bubbling laughter that pursues Shadow's eerie cry that is wholly mocking and baiting. Each blow and parry and impale lands true, with slick blood that reeks of poison oozing from yawning sores, Shadow slumps forward from their assaults, wicked teeth having risen into a smile, snapping around a blackened tongue that uncoils and drenched in death.

But it does not fall, not yet.

Emma has not realized that she has stepped forward, breaking among the crowd protected by the shores of the lake, bounded by her shadow, spurred by an unknown force that compels her strides whilst Shadow falls, foiled to its knees. A roar of laughter rings against her ears as the creatures raises both arms, black tendrils swirling amidst the bi-mortal children, slithering betwixt her figure then, taunting as it speaks.

"This is all the children of Gods have to show?" Shadow hissed, a slithering speech that rocked Emma to her core. "Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."

Shadow's barbed tail coils then, bunched together before it releases, bidden by reflexes that released numerous projectiles upon the earth, shadows pooling forth in their wake. One comes dangerously close to Emma, a black barb grazed upon her cheek that weeps red upon her pale skin. She flinches, only barely, and listens as another voice summons forth upon her mind: whisper soft and delicate, a blanket to soothe her frayed nerves and soul burdened by the power jolting between her and Damien. Emma's lashes peel wide, her gaze brightened incredibly so, silver stars that bolt across the eerie blackness of her eyes that shimmer then with knowing.

You can help...

Emma kneels, nails raking across whipping shadows, grasping such within her usually fragile gestures now confident and sure, muscles thriving and bounding, her heart aflame and anxious. She breathes around a surge of power that boils within her veins, it wakes across the shadow joined between her and her brother and through such she siphons his emotions: his usual abrasive nature, and confidence within a battle, his raw potential. Emma inhales all of this and more, silver tears spiked upon her lashes whilst she tugs, pulls, ripping apart the veil of shadows usually commanded to shield her within. The rendered darkness splits into a yawning abyss of a void, an endless and desolate pitch that groans eerily within a low-crowned crescendo of barely constrained fury.

"Force it into the void," she cries. "Let it be lost, forever."