Posted 2023-03-16 23:24:31 (edited)
OF GOLD[art by me, lol]
hey there, i am rising from the ashes of some not-so-great life situations, and i arise with a craving to write. this is small and simple, i will probably make more elaborations at some point but i'm feeling sick, aha. go figure. ANYWHO, i do OOC only over Discord as sometimes taking care of my bbies overwhelms me.
a lil introduction:
✨ I am reasonably active, although I suffer from varying chronic conditions and neurodivergence, so sometimes my activity may wane.
✨I am gay, disabled, and LGBTQIA+ inclusive. I am also a huge fan of representation of all forms. I do not like heavy themes surrounding bigotry or any glorification of such.
✨ I'm located in the hell that is Texas, so I am Central time. However, I am a night owl.
✨ I ask all my partners to be 20+, as while I know there are so many amazing young writers, I prefer to write with folks around my age range as I am 31!~
✨Please don't pester me for replies! It is the surest way to run me off, as it causes me massive anxiety. I will always give back the patience given to me.
✨I am casual OOC and formal, of course, IC.
✨ I suppose I am advanced, although that is most certainly subjective. I put heaps of effort into what I produce and run things through an editorial grinder. You needn't do that, but that's how I operate. I am, at the least detailed and multi-para for sure.
✨ I can easily create worlds, characters, and plots and am huge on collaboration.
✨I am a lengthier writer, but I stick to quality over quantity.
✨Male muses are my preferred, but I'll happily write anyone, especially regarding sides, as I like a diverse cast. On that note, I don't generally double. Usually, I run one main and fill the world with intriguing and intricate side characters. I can double, but my muse isn't always very high to do so.
✨ I'm a sucker for romance. It's not required, but I do enjoy it. Be it more love-at-first-sight or slow-burn, I don't judge.
✨I love darker, grittier themes with or without occasional fluff mixed in. Heavier topics are welcomed, and I love to include them, but they MUST be given the respect they are due and not be romanticized.
✨I am a slower and meticulous writer, and I suffer from depression, so while some days I can post multiple times, there may be days where I cannot. Regardless, I'll always give you something juicy.
✨ I have plots, pairings, and ideas. However, we'll get to that later!
✨ Some OOC is required. I like to have a rapport with my partner to get that spark for roleplay! Plus, I like to make new friends.
✨ I am itching for shifters. Or perhaps a nice Warriors roleplay/canine RP. I am open of course to anything else. Werewolves
are big for me right now! And I love angst.
WRITING SAMPLE
i don't always write this much, do not fear lol
Fate is a perplexing notion, unfathomable even.
A supposed catalyst behind the roads one takes upon the meandrous journey of life, binding an individual to preordained chapters and paths.
Yet, Elias, shuddering as if enveloped by a glacial gust of wind, regarded it all as rubbish. Nothing drove anyone anywhere beyond themselves, each with their hands clasped to a steering wheel.
Or so he had thought.
A trail of smoke twirled in the air in plumes, and Elias, seated at the back of an old Greyhound bus, grappled with remaining poised, a cig held between two trembling fingers. An acute shot of sprawling pain surged through him, and he tautened, his jaw clenched until it ebbed away like briny waters pulling from the shore.
With a ragged, wry chortle, Elias deliberated as he took another drag, the acridity of the cigarette mollifying.
Why am I coming back?
What a question. The sting of the lacerations which marred Eli's chest flared again as if to emphasize the inquiry. Unable to settle on an answer, Elias felt astray.
The wounds he bore, and the torn and tattered shirt which covered them, stayed hidden beneath an oversized, wintry jacket. It reminded him of the sheer gravity of the matters at hand.
An entire week had blurred together, melding in his mind until he scrambled to put disjointed slivers of any recollection of what had transpired in the correct order. Instead, to do so overwhelmed and suffocated him as if constricting his lungs in asphyxiation.
Unease stirred inside him, and the urge to savor the brisk, frigid air outside gnawed away at Elias; lord knows he needed the breather.
Despite his misery, he had crafted a feigned visage of normality during most of the trip. Stoicism was paramount, even if his nerves had long since frayed.
Overall, the beleaguered state of his affairs made him weary and laden with stress. Perhaps less than all which lay before him, dicey though it might be, his stubbornness would not let him falter from trepidation alone.
What fueled Elias forward proved an enigma, and as he stood, putting out his smoke, the Greyhound crept to a halt. Here he was, in the city that never sleeps, chasing a ghost of his past—all driven by impulse and compulsion, which confounded him.
Why this magnetism prevailed over logic or rationale, he knew not.
Regardless, Elias carried the burden of his misgivings on his shoulders, no matter how he continued onward, a limp in his stride. There was no telling how Alex would react to him coming to her doorstep without explanation and wounded. It made him grimace to visualize their meeting, even if he had missed her, and God, he had.
Their relationship must have fragility to it now.
Even if he had his reasonings, he left her high and dry. It allowed him to become a part of the past while longing for a future whose petals never meant to unfurl.
After a long exhale, Elias scanned his surroundings and took in a bleak scene. Any hustle and bustle had died down in this sleepy city corner.
Meanwhile, Eli did not feel inclined to dwell upon how he knew to come here. An address tumbled in his head in a cyclic and bothersome loop.
Elias trudged on with blind knowledge of the verity within his directional sense, even though he last saw Alex Reyes in their hometown, which left him perturbed. All of it made him feel like an utter creep.
Hello, Alex, it's your old best friend who left you in the dust, somehow at your door. No stalker-y bullshit here.
God, he was so screwed.
Soon, he arrived at a complex near the bus stop leading to her apartment. It was then that Eli's heart began to thunder.
Still, despite his hesitance, Elias took the plunge and traversed the complex until he came to her door, rapping on it before buckling a tad under the pain he had bitten back. Somehow, he could discern this as her place, and to find it took little.
To come here was the only choice for him.
Once he fled, he needed distance, and he sought it.
They would seek him out without end, but to pin his location down would take a while. New York City was vast, spanning enough length for him to get well lost within.
A gamble overall, and his well of optimism had long since trickled dry.
While waiting, Elias reached for a cigarette and considered lighting it before putting it behind his ear.
Another odd habit. There was no way he considered himself presentable in appearance, the ebony tendrils of his hair tousled and wild. Meanwhile, the soft mottling of a bruise had formed beneath his left eye. Indeed, he looked as if he had been through it, and he had.
With a pensive gaze, he looked ahead, unsure what to expect from this endeavor.
The exchange of pleasantries, a blissful reunion?
Yeah, alright.
Yet, Eli recalled the old days, and a smidgen of sanguinity struck him.
They were once inseparable. Back then, if Elias could hear her brilliant laughter and see her smile, he would make it happen.
It dragged him away from the turbulence within his adoptive family, with him being just some kid from England punted to the States- the epitome of convolution. Before Elias left, he was on the cusp of asking her out after months of garnering his braves, all because it hit him one day that he had fallen for her in ways he pined to explore.
Except it had occurred, the incident.
Something unexplainable.
With a heaved sigh, Elias shuffled his weight to his other foot, time lapsing, leaving him with a yawning apprehension. The hair on his arms stood up, and a chill crawled the length of his spine. It was as though he knew she was near, and he flicked his focus to the peephole in the center of the door.
Elias bumbled for a moment, unable to form a sentence, and when he spoke, it was with a placative tentativeness.
"Alex, please, I-"
As he continued, he unzipped his coat, revealing a blood-sodden shirt with tears exposing two long gashes.
"I can't go to a hospital. You may hate my guts, and you'd be right to do so, but I never forgot."
Idled, Elias plucked the cigarette behind his ear and slotted it back into the carton, still blundering through the motions.
"I can explain."
Could he? Sure, if he wanted to convey an impression of batshit insanity.
Even Elias himself felt bewildered by the sheer urgency which drove him. Whether it would get him anywhere was in Alex's hands.
What a horrendous ordeal he had snagged himself within.
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brutus
#5333
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