Asher & Mercy

What to do... what to do....

I guess I should ask fantasy, regular, sci fi?

I'm more of a regular type of rper.... I tried rp'ing fantasy with Sky (daylight) she told me to never do it again... because I was just absolutely awful at it haha but I'm willing to compromise and try something new i guess

LMAO ok ok ok


It is modern day Chicago, bustling streets and many things that happen under the table. A perfect place for a writer to get inspiration for his/her next novel.

You, a well known author around the world, are on a book tour. You have written many novels -- your choice of genre -- and you are on your third book tour of the summer. But on your days off you enjoy walking down along the beach where you sit down and write.

The problem is, your new character -- me -- has suddenly become real; I began forming when you had the idea of your new character idea. I was merely a cloud that floated among humans, and every day I became a little more solid as you began confirming and forming your ideas of how I should look, act, dress, talk, even who to love. Every time you make changes to your character suddenly I begin to change. I begin to hear you narrating my life and decide to find you. How will you react when I find you in your apartment? And how did I come to be? Or did you already know of my existence and were waiting for my arrival? Do you begin to wonder how many other of your characters were real?

PS I will post my character when you have posted yours so I can base mine off of what you have decided to "write" about.

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Your the hottest singer on the billboard charts. It all starts off with you finishing your concert for the night and walk out of the backstage door, accidently hitting me in the head, not knowing that I was there, the thing is i'm not like most girls that would swoon all over you. I hate your guts and your not sure what to think of that. This is the first time we meet. What will it turn out to be? A true love? Or something different. Lets find out.

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We are both at a new college (doesn't necessarily mean we are straight out of high school), and we are roommates. You are the bad-boy, rebellious type, and I'm the bookworm. Completely different. However, we begin to fall for each other, but neither of us admit it to each other, or ourselves. Who will be the first one to cave, and what will our friends think?
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By some complicated senario, I go to an all-boys boarding school. Thankfully, I get my own room. You attend this school (with whatever personality type you want) as an ordinary student. However, you start to fall for me. Will I fall for you as well? Will I just think you like me because I'm the only female around for miles?

I really like the first one......like A LOT. But I have a few questions. You're going to randomly show up on my apt and be like... hey I'm your character... or something of the sort? And how exactly would you create your character? I didn't really understand it in the post above.

Well, what I would do is you give me a sample of how you would picture my character, and my character with every idea you write down will change their attitude, hair, facial features, but they won't notice it. Only people around them will. My character -- "your" character will go about their day to day lives, until by some strange coincidence our two meet and you notice something strange about me, the way I walk, talk, and act, how I remind you of the character in your novel. You can choose what to do from there.

Okay, I think I get it. So I would give you basically a character bio of what my novel character is like and you'd gradually become that person?

Yupyupyup

ahhhh okay.. well lemme go make some bio sheets kay? I'll brb

kkkk

My bios are in my signature, the very last one in the Cyan color. Would you like me to post first?

yes please

The sun was barely coming up when I jumped out of bed with an idea banging at my skull. I grabbed my glasses, my pad and pen and jogged down the stairs, to the kitchen. I set up my island with my writing necessities and made myself a mug of coffee. I sat down and started to write;

Her life was ordinary. Other than the fact that it wasn't. You look at her and you don't think anything of her. She's not the memorable type.. or is she? She's got those brown beach waves that reach her lower mid-back, which she ties up at work every now and then. Her eyes were that bright blue that you get lost in. She isn't anything close to Medusa but she'll hypnotize you for sure.

But she's not who you think she is. She doesn't use this to her advantage, although she should at times. She's too sweet, to quiet. She doesn't leave her comfort zone for anything more than a half a second. She's not easy to throw herself at your arms if you yell 'trust fall.' She enjoys being isolated but that doesn't mean she can't get wild.

Don't mistake her quietness for ordinary. What do you do when your day is done? Do you go home to the kids? To the wife, your husband? Do you go out clubbing? Do you go to book club? Not this girl. Not Zoe. She steps out of her uniform when the lights go down and steps into an illusion when the lights come up.

What illusion, you ask? Well that's the beauty of it. The illusion is an illusion itself. It's a high that comes with the life she leads. The excitement and thrill of living the way she does. Never at home, always on the road, yet no one suspects a thing. Not yet at least.

I got shivers going up my spine. Another mystery novel coming together beautifully, I smiled to myself as I sipped my hot coffee. I lived for writing these thrillers. Keeping people on the edge of their seats, their eyes running across the page wanting to know more, fast. Zoe, my new character, was going to shock many people. It'll never hit them.

Intro to Zoe's Existence [She will not recall this.]

Every story starts out with an idea... Every character starts off as a thought. I watched over his shoulder for many months, him mulling over notes, outlines of his new story, shuffling through papers. I was merely a cloud, undefined body, gender... I was a thought bubble to be exact. After months of touring, he finally started his new novel, and I slowly became real.

Then things started to hurt at night as he continued to write, my flesh bubbled out as he began to describe me, eyes shaded over many different times as he rearranged the color of my hair and eyes, trying to find the perfect medium. I cried out as he gave me life, a personality, shoes to walk in. Until I became fully real...

...

Zoe awoke in her car with a startle, the sound of cars beeping and screeching against newly paved roads.

That was Chicago for you, two seasons, winter, and construction season.

With a shake of her head, she rubbed her tired eyes, sitting up. She had only a few hours of sleep under her belt, but it was better than nothing. She flips down the mirror in her car and sighs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and squinting against the sun.

Another day. She started up her car, driving her way to her job. She waitresses for now at a local diner called Sally's, it payed minimum wage, enough to keep her car running and enough to buy the occasional pack of cigarettes. With a flick of her wrist, she opens the compartment to her car and grabs her last cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag as she drives down the road.