Welcome to Gaia! ::

Name: My real name is… ah, you know what, just call me Rox. Or Jay. Or whatever you wanna call me; I don’t mind, really.
Gender: Female. My avatar’s male ‘cause I enjoy tricking people into thinking I’m a dude. A pretty wimpy dude, but a dude nonetheless.
Age: Haha, well, uh… I’m fifteen.
Role-playing Experience: About… two years, I think? Maybe a little more than that, like say, two and a half.
Role-Play character type: …uh, seke I guess? My characters aren’t really that aggressive or submissive.
Favorite Part of Role-play process: I adore writing up posts; it makes the writer in me (malnourished and neglected as she is) happy inside. Unfortunately, it seems to me that I take forever to write well, anything, really.
Pet Peeve of Role-play: I hate it when I’m given posts that give me absolutely nothing to work with. The often played “the-guy’s-so-effeminate-he-is-literally-just-a-girl-with-a-d*ck” characters in Yaoi roleplays also bug the crap outta me; if your guy is going to look like a girl and act like a girl (who is extremely weak and wimpy and acting all “damsel-in-constant-distress”) why the Hell aren’t you roleplaying het? Seriously, peeps who roleplay with that character type; tell me why you aren’t playing het. Is it because girls are icky? Do you just like really girly boys? I’m genuinely curious about this.
Role-play Sample: …erm, this is one of my more recent posts that I actually sort of liked. Please do not run screaming for the hills; I don’t usually write this much. My average post is usually in the 200 word range, honest.

“My dear Angelo! What a pleasure it is to see you again! By the way, have you taken sight of–”

“Oh yes! But… Dreadfully boring, isn’t he?”

“Quite. He’s rather… dull for someone rumored to be the son of our own precious Headmaster.”

“And what a shame that is! Why, just this other day, I was telling Cory of how precious few people there are out there similar to our Headmaster. Not that I’m saying that I dislike how unique of an individual our Headmaster is, it’s just–”

“Oh, I know what you mean! It’s not that we want everyone else to be like our Headmaster, it’s just that they are all so painfully drab in comparison.”

“Exactly! Really now, if only – wait, is that who I think it is?”

“What are you – oh! Lucifer! Hello there, my dearest friend! How are you this pleasant morning?”

Lucifer, whom had been in the middle of a stroll around one of the school’s many hallways, of which had been caused by his body’s rather unfortunate lack of interest to get another hour or two of sleep in, abruptly halted in his steps, having been stopped by the translucent being smiling before him. With his glasses resting rather dutifully on his nose, the brunet scrunched up his eyebrows together in a rather unhappy looking furrow, displaying the male’s displeasure with the situation. After what felt like hours, though were most probably nothing more than just a few measly minutes, a smile graced itself onto the brunet’s face, his unease completely melting away from his features. “Eric, Angelo, hello. I’ve been fine, thank you. What’ve you two been up to lately, if you don’t mind the inquiry?”

Eric (or perhaps it was Angelo; the two looked far too similar for Lucifer’s brain to differentiate at the moment in its wearied state) practically beamed at him in response, looking far too happy for someone up every so early. Then again, ghosts weren’t known to need sleep for, well, any reasons at all, really. “Oh, Lucifer, you wouldn’t believe the shocker I’ve had this morning! Our Headmaster, you know, our precious Headmaster, he has… well, he has a son! And his son, whose name I can’t quite recall–”

“Joseph. I do believe the boy’s name is Joseph, Eric.”

“–right, Joseph, thank you for that Angelo. As I was saying, and as Angelo so helpfully reminded me, the boy’s name is Joseph. Joseph, who is rumored to be the child of our very own Headmaster, is attending this school as of today! He’s probably looking for his dorm room right now as we speak! Isn’t that amazing? Oh, but… the boy himself is quite the letdown. Not that I have anything against him, heavens no. It’s just…”

“Oh, I know what you mean! It’s quite a shame about him, really. He doesn’t even appear to want his gifts–”

Lucifer, who was having a relatively hard time following the conversation the two spirits were having as his brain was still a bit muddled from his body’s lack of sleep, could only blink in response as the two translucent men gossiped in front of him like a pair of elderly women in the middle of a very nice cup of tea. “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t help but inquire, adjusting the upper portion of his red plaid tie, suddenly feeling far too restricted and restrained by his own attire. His brown suit, composed primarily of cashmere, was buttoned up completely and felt… much more restraining than it usually did, which was to say, a lot; more often than not, the suit brought him feelings of comfort and security, a feeling of safeness. His clothing, as bland and business-like as it appeared to others, had always only ever brought him a sense of contentment. Idly, as he continued to fiddle around with his tie, the brunet couldn’t help but wonder as to why of all times his clothing began to feel restrictive now; he was only taking a few minutes to talk to a few of the spirits, a usual part of his daily routine in the school.

Eric (he was certain of it this time; Angelo had a brighter glow) abruptly halted in his talk with Angelo, turning his attention back onto Lucifer. He looked at the brunet, pale eyes assessing, before he spoke carefully, the tone of his voice holding a hint of curiosity within it. “As I’ve said before, our Headmaster’s son, Joseph, has come to attend this school to educate himself more about his Grace. No one knows precisely what his Grace is as of yet but… Wait, you do know what we are speaking of, don’t you, Lucifer?”

No. Yes. Maybe?

“I… I apologize, for I am ashamed to admit that I do not, in fact, know what you two are speaking of.” Lucifer admitted, tilting his head downwards, resisting the urge to fiddle more with his plaid tie. The clothes, to the brunet’s utmost confusion, were starting to feel restrictive again. It wasn’t until that the urge to toy with his tie had passed, that Lucifer’s brain had finally processed what words the ghost had spoken to him. “…wait, attend?” A frown plastered itself onto the bespectacled male’s face. “Attend? He – he can’t be. Even if he is in fact the Headmaster’s son, he can’t transfer into this school right now. Next week, when it is scheduled for new students to arrive, yes, I’d understand that, but now? No, he… he just can’t. Headmaster Sakurai himself had explicitly said that there would be no exceptions for anyone. All new students must arrive on the scheduled date.”

A silence followed. Befuddled, Lucifer glanced carefully up to the two spirits and was surprised to see them look at him with an alarmed (one could even say flabbergasted) expression. Eric shook his pale head in a slow, almost sorrowful, motion before saying, “Oh, Lucifer, my poor man. I believe that you are, in fact, mistaken; the new students are indeed scheduled to arrive this week.” Silence. Then, “Are you feeling alright, my friend? You seem to be… troubled, all of this month.”

Lucifer blinked. He stared. He carefully opened his mouth but, unable to think of anything to say, simply closed it shut soon afterwards. The brunet sighed.

“I’m…” Confused. Terribly, terribly confused. “…fine. I’ve just been having a rough week, is all.”

Name: Caelo.
Gender: Male.
Age: 22.
Role-playing Experience: Roughly ten or so.
Role-Play character type: Uke, seke, seme, or closetted depending on the character. Each one is different, and thus has a slightly different tendency.
Favorite Part of Role-play process: Character interaction. I like having good writing chemistry with other people, and having other character personalities to bounce off of that eventually cause a change in how my character sees the world or reacts to things. I also love the plotting process, and talking about how characters would react to hypothetical situations.
Pet Peeve of Role-play: The basic girly uke, or when people can't separate themselves from their character. Just because my character is a jerk doesn't mean that I don't like someone personally. Without drama, everything is roses, and I find that a little boring. Sweet moments are great, and I enjoy those, but if EVERYTHING is sweet, what's the point?
Role-play Sample: ((From an advlit guild I was in before it went inactive.))

The dark was not a problem for him, and he moved in it with a disorienting
speed, listening to the cackle and cough of the birds overhead. They would
have been invisible except for the moon, coming down on everything like
an accusatory spotlight. In its glow, they were smears of black against the
backdrop of the sky, winging in and out of an untidy murder that circled,
rose, and then dropped again. They searched for the things that all crows
could pinpoint without fail-- the glitter of metal, the glint of lifeless eyes.
The former was something they would not find. Bitten knew this, because
any slayer worth their own entrails would never rise to a hunt with some-
thing that visible on their person. Lycans on the full moon had the kind of
darting, frenzied attention that made every flicker into a prey animal, and
a slayer would know it. They would dress dark, and the firearms they used
in this time would be a matte black. They would steep themselves in the
smells of the loam on the forest floor, and the sap of the trees, and in the
end be detectable only if they bled or breathed too deep. And by then it
would be too late.

That Shank was not dead meant many things, but it did not suggest the
possibility of a novice. An unskilled huntsman would have been hard pres-
sed to take a shifter as old as the hyena by surprise, and too proud of
his initial success to leave well enough alone. He would have overextended
himself and paid for the mistake, or achieved victory and dragged the
carcass away to be salted and burned.

Willow was not a carcass. Therefor, they were not dealing with a hunter
working on his novitiate.

They were also not dealing with a group of slayers-- unskilled or otherwise.
Even the most inept would have been able to pick off students as they
congregated around the checkpoints Shank had set out for them, and yet
the feline and underground groups had returned completely without inci-
dent. The canines had wandered in similarly unscathed a short time later,
although unchaperoned, and the only blood scented on any of them had
come from the natural process of feeding.

So it was only one, and that one knew what he was doing. The hyena had
escaped with his life, as far as Bitten was aware, and the hunter had done
the same, or disappeared without a trace. If he'd been killed, it was without
blood-- the blond could scent none in the canine portion of the grounds
that was human. There was only the corrosive reek of what had seeped
from Willow's wound for a long space, and then..

Mundane canine, a staggering amount that meant the animal had inevitably
died, although there was no body. And, almost as strong, there was the
more peculiar smell of Morgan Jaix, whose blood was almost as ingrained
to the noses of Aequitas as that of Vendetta Katin. It was a scent that had
the vampire drawing back a few feet, stepping out of the clearing with
something akin to fear, or reverence, as though he'd burst through the
doors of a church in the middle of Mass and only just realized his mistake.

But there was no mistake, and even without a corpse laying there at the
center of the blood-matted leaves, he felt a sudden certainty that the faerie
was dead. It was a strange, heavy feeling, and bitter, despite the lack of
true connection between Bitten and the rest of the faculty. If there was
anyone on the staff that the vampire might have called friend, it was the
bizarre man who'd finished Vendetta Katin, even if their only exchanges
had been short.

Ferdiad Ellyll would feel the weight of the loss far heavier, and the blond
glanced in the direction of the campus, visible on his mental map even if
it was hidden in reality by the trees.

Alan was there, and safe. It was something he knew, the way that he knew
it was all of Cassiopeia and some of Monoceros wheeling above him on
black wings. If he closed his eyes, if he focused on just one mind out of
those dozens, he would be able to take the body, direct it, use it the way
a puppeteer might. But the animal would pay the price for that kind of
callousness, and Bitten was no longer being mentored by a man who had
uses for that kind of cruelty.

That had been the work of slayers, as well.

Name: Luca Cantellano (a.k.a. Light)
Gender: Male C:
Age: 17
Role-playing Experience: Since I first joined (my first account), so that would be in 2006.
Role-Play character type: a masochistic uke C;
Favorite Part of Role-play process: My favortite part of RPing is replying. You get lost into the other world, and you aren't a person behind some laptop or computer. You're a character that is going through drama, having an intimate conversation, or maybe even saving the world.
Pet Peeve of Role-play: If you are in a very good RP, and everyone is having a great time, but when you are just at the point where you are waiting for somebody to respond, and they never respond... And they've ditched the RP. ):
Role-play Sample:
10:54 PM., He had just snuck next to his target building. He had been hired by UBS financial firm two nights ago while he was drinking in a Tavern on the other side of town. He still remembered the tall, lanky man with grey hair and a lecturous gaze that had traveled up his body numerous times within their short meeting. Alexander hadn't been all too interested in this mission, since he hated politics and law, but if he didn't take the job, he would have no money for food.

He traveled down the short ally way, the stray dirt beneath his feet making sounds barely audible to the human ear. He wasn't being as careful tonight as he was most nights. He chose this time of night because everyone had left to go home, and only one or two would be left. He stepped through a side door in the ally, one that was long forgotten and used by previous janitors. His shoes made no sound on the floor as he queitly closed the door, locking it, and moved forward to a hallway that lead to the elevators. There, he would be able to head to the top floor quickly.

He wore a black turtleneck shirt and grey skinny-jeans. Although it was clothes that would stand out in a financial firm, it was also an outfit that most poeple looked past. It was also an outfit that clung close to his body, so he could hide and run behind corners without the chance of anyone seeing him or noticing him. Just as he reached the elevators, he noticed something for the corner of his eye. He hadn't paid attention enough. If only he had done his job properly, he wouldn't be in this situation.

The man infront of him looked like he wasn't paying attention, but Alex's heart beat fast and painfully in his chest. Trying not to make himself stand out, he stood straight and held a serious, passive expression on his face. His blue eyes looked at the man calmly before he turned and slowly began walking the other way. If he could just get away in time...

Name: Nyx, I suppose
Gender: Male
Age: 17-21
Role-playing Experience: Hmmm, about a year and a half. I can still remember the days of the one sentence post sweatdrop
Role-Play character type:I'm flexible, although I find it difficult to play an overly mean/sadistic character
Favorite Part of Role-play process: Seeing as most of the characters I make are edited versions of old ones, the typing out of a post.
Pet Peeve of Role-play: Seme-Uke stereotyping! Or, to be more accurate, teary ukes who expect the seme to pretty much do the whole story for them. Equality and co-operation, people!
Role-play Sample:

Name: Sai
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Role-playing Experience: About 3 months. I did this Pokemon RP that kind of just died. sweatdrop
Role-Play character type: Uh... Seke or Uke? I haven't done a Yoai RP before.
Favorite Part of Role-play process: Character Creation I play D&D and have like 50 characters created complete with backgrounds and reasons for their personalities. biggrin
Pet Peeve of Role-play: When they die without anyone telling me why. stare
Role-play Sample: Okie Dokie! xp

"DAD, I'M HOME!" James called as he entered his cold, dirty house. Muffled grunts were the only reply. He quickly checked on his drunken father to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself again somehow. “How you keep getting your hands on booze without a car to get you to the store I will never understand.” James said as he stared down at the pitiful waste he called his father.

‘My interview was terrible, thanks for asking.’ James thought to himself as he strode back to his room. He had just come home from another failed job hunt. No employer wants to hire a 17 year old. Graduated or not, he still couldn’t be put on any companies’ insurance. He pulled out the fresh box of razorblades he was carrying. He still had one left so he wouldn’t need to open it just yet.

“Here’s to the next bastards who raise my hopes and throw them from the tallest point in the tower.” James whispered as he pulled his shirt off in anticipation of his next self-inflicted punishment. Shivers formed up his arm as the cold metal touched his flesh.

Just then James noticed a letter addressed to him lying on his bed. “How did you get there?” he asked the inanimate object. James had realized years before that it was easier to talk to things that didn’t talk back. Instead of cutting his arm he cut the edge of the envelope to let its contents spill out. He began to read.

A surge of energy formed up his spine. ‘Midnight Reverie’ was something even an outcast like him, who had no television and no friends, had heard of. ‘Hang on,’ James thought to himself, ‘how did they get my information?’ This was peculiar. ‘Maybe one of the job-search sites I went on sent my résumé out that far?’ That had to be it, there was no other explanation.

“Sorry little razor,” James said to the blade still in his hand, “looks like your not going to get your red wine.” He tossed it into the trash and began to pack. Most of this months check was going to have to go to the plane ticket. ‘Good thing I’ve been saving up.’ James thought as he realized he would need a place to stay for at least one night.



“LATER DAD!” James yelled as he walked out the front door the next morning then continued in a quieter tone, “If all goes well, I wont be coming home.”