#but i am Not Writing That okay I am Writing Cowboys and also Werewolves Right Now. I Do Not Have Time For This!!!!!!

[ragnarokhound]

((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞

From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa

anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)

Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence

15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed. 

Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.

He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay? 

But, uh. Let’s back up a little.

—

Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.

He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air. 

Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.

So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.

With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.

"What's going on here?"

The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.

“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.

“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tim stops in his tracks.

“Forty-eight—?”

“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”

Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive. 

Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front. 

Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.

It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.

Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—

And then Tim thinks about the call.

The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later. 

He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.

“Today,” he repeats.

She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”

"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."

—

He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.

Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.

Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.

Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.

He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.

As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”

The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”

“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”

“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.

“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”

—

The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape. 

He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.

He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.

By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.

“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”

He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this. 

Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it.

He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.

Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’—  which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.

Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.

He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.

Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—

And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.

“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.

—

Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.

See, here’s the thing.

The thing is, he has options.

He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down). 

He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.

And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.

No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.

With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:

“Hand over your wallet!”

He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.

Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.

Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.

The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.

“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”

The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.

“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”

The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”

Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight. 

His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.

“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”

“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.

Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.

“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”

Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.

“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.

Tim blinks. So do the muggers. 

He knows that voice.

“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that.

Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.

Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes— 

Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.

Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop. 

So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.

Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”

Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.

Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”

Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.

Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.

“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.

Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Had.” 

So much for the League, Tim muses.

Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror. 

“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”

Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.

“I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed. 

God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way. 

“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”

—

They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.

“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”

“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”

“Again. Fucking ew.”

“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”

“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”

Jason thwacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”

“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”

“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.

Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.

“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”

Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.

Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.

“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”

Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.

“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”

“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”

The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.

Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.

“Jason—!”

“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”

“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”

“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”

“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.

“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”

The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.

“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.

Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.

“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.” 

Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”

He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.

And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.

He knows, okay?

“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”

Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.

And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to. 

But he still means it.

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”

The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.

“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.

The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.

But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.

Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”

Jason’s grin is electric. 

He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.

Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—

—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.

“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”

“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.

“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch. 

The kiss is— bad. At first. 

Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.

Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.

“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.

“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”

Tim is already asleep.

#one hundred thousand years have passed #i creak up out of the soil gasping and hacking and coughing #'i lived bitch' #'have some jaytim that grew legs on me' #my writing #asked and answered #jaytim #ladytauria #hurt/comfort #this one is sillier and more light-hearted than the other ones #the hurt is more like 'near tears travel exhaustion' than your typical aftermath of violence lol but it so definitely counts #i held a gun to the head of the muse that said 'this is way too short' and pulled the fucking trigger #i KNOW it's a very fast get together but i did Not want this to become my next 5 digit wordcount fic okay. okay. oka #the bones of a long 'tim and jason vs the league of assassins' fic is hiding here #and if i actually wrote that this would have ended much differently #but i am Not Writing That okay I am Writing Cowboys and also Werewolves Right Now. I Do Not Have Time For This!!!!!! #prompt fill

[fyrapartnersearch]

Yee haw! M//, original, discord, light-hearted

howdy, howdy friends! sweet baby jesus in a hickory rocker, what a year. i am vaxxed and waxed and looking for writing buddies once again after a year plus... things are still the same with me though, my tastes are more steady and predictable than bears shitting in the woods.

i hope you and your loved ones have been well, genuinely. it's been a scary year, and i hope to provide some humor and distraction if you are interested in writing with me.

so.

hi, i am 27, she/her, cst, and i work fulltime as well as go to school part-time, so while i cannot promise rapidfire posts, i am becoming better about daily posts! as long as they're relatively short, sweet, and to the point. i am not the person for you if you like posts that average longer than 3 paragraphs, my average is often comfortably lower.

limits/fun factoids about my style/"tl;dr are we compatible?" first:

+ when reaching out to me, please tell me your limits and any plot/character ideas!

+ addendum: i will not respond to messages that don't contain any information about you, your limits, and what you're looking to write or what characters you'd like to use! it doesn't need to be completely fleshed out, thanks!

+ i'm adaptable and laidback! however, i do not write pedophilia, rape/sexual assault, incest, abusive relationships, romantic large age gaps, nor master x slave.

+ i will not write with minors either, strongly preferred that you are 21+

+ quality is far more valuable than quantity regarding length. i prefer shorter nowadays! those tasty, 1-3 para potato chip rps, so to speak c:

+ third person only, please

+ i admittedly have a preference for m// lately

+ i prefer writing middle-aged to older farts! i'd love if you did as well

+ i love ooc chatter! i'd prefer it if you did too, but it is not a dealbreaker

+ if you're not feeling it or if life happens, that's okay. you are free to either tell me you want a change, drop altogether, or ghost, it's all good i promise ❤️

+ i am not the person for serious or dark stories, sprinkles of angst are fine - but i am not the person for a trauma trainride. i respect it, but i am the kind of person who enjoys a bit of coffee with my cup of cream and sugar and dilfs

[cravings]

+ post apocalypse slice of life is also great. with plenty of humor to spare.

+ something silly about a witch and their familiar

+ anything with werewolves and their human beloved very concerned about the recent furniture chewing phase, and wow is frontline expensive for a 400lb beast.

+ something a bit more rocky, but an old fashioned western physician falling for an outlaw/ sheriff/ rancher, etc. bonus points for post-apoc and western themed. please, i got the perfect ole grizzled doc for this c:

[modern]

+ i love modern c: i am happy writing about firefighters and lawyers, scientists, military readjusting to civilian life, boring divorced dads who find lifelong love with other divorced dads, fluffy slice-of-life, etc.

[(somewhat) historic]

+ btw, i am not a history buff - so be prepared for anachronisms galore! which might mean plumbing and dental care centuries before it was introduced.

+ noire crime! old grizzled detectives and their partners in crime trying to figure out these gosh dang murders. dang killers, bringing down everyone's vibes.

+ a detective moving to a podunk old town, with a ~mysterious past~. however, there isn't any mysterious past, the locals just humor the guy and i have a soft spot for the detective falling for the sheriff while constantly heckling him for assistance.

+ western! please, just... anything western. i love cowboys, ranches, train robberies, just... i will maybe propose if you let me indulge this.

[fantasy & monsters]

+ i am also happy to write fantasy!

+ fantasy can genuinely be blended into anything, into modern, sci-fi, post apocalyptic, etc.

+ i am also happy with pure, vanilla, cheesy fantasy - with kings, queens, beautiful warhorses and kingdoms by the sea, and conventionally attractive people with healthy teeth and... far less dysentery.

+ i am happy to write sci-fi into fantasy - hunters/mercenaries with eyes that can hologram maps and prey, platinum horses made of gaskets and titanium joints who breathe steam, a kingdom in the sky, anything!

[... guilty pleasures]

+ i love the cheesy and humorous things to temper the chaos. love writing that domestic, usually peaceful, sweet life of two happy people who have been together for ages or just met in their golden years after struggle and just... working for their happy endings.

+ though i am not usually interested in cheesy, obnoxious tropes... i have a soft spot for two grumpy, gruff guys falling for each other c:

[miscellaneous]

+ this is hardly an exhaustive list of ideas or themes that interest me! if you have something in mind that you do not see, or anything at all, please do let me know! i love brainstorming and hearing ideas c:

+ note: i love writing with pretty boy archetypes!! but i am inundated with them at the moment in my current threads, bring me yer more grizzled and rough and tough boys! the two characters i have in mind are too old and boring to keep up with pretty, lithe youngins!

what characters do i have in mind?

plenty! craving two in particular, but i have plenty more in mind if the following two don't catch your interest:

+ one is svelte, aloof, posh, thoughtful. the very characterization of something like... a sleek, abyssinian cat playing the cello. intriguing, a little odd, an intimidating, coded villain - but really, just socially awkward, and a sweetheart.

+ the other is beefy, grumpy, and also... a goof at the core. the archetype of an ornery grandpa with the warmest heart and a distinguished grey streak in his hair.

both are middle-aged men and adaptable to anything from old-fashioned fantasy, to modern, to sci-fi, to fantasy-modern hybrids, to post apocalyptic. they can be rogues, kings, survivors, lawyers, detectives, chefs, scientists, neighbors, loyal right-hands, anything from protectors and anchors to the village/office boob.

i am preferring to write the former gentleman, but i am up to write either, or someone completely different!

i am also happy to elaborate upon contact if you are interested! fortunately, each one is more complex than several adjectives and a stereotypical archetype. i'd also love to hear the characters you have in mind!

are you interested?

nice dm me at howdy^3#6518 on discord

#Indie rp #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #literate #action #adventure #comedy #drama angst #fantasy #modern #original #post apocalyptic #romance #scifi #slice of life #supernatural #western #submission

[aprettysonnetfic]

For Those Below Ch 1

Wild Heart Part 3

Kyle Brooks, unable to reach either Warren and Ben, has a bad feeling that something has happened to them. His search for answers reveals a witches plot to get revenge against The Grey Lords. Kyle and Mercy have to team up to rescue Ben, who has been taken as leverage while the rest of the pack is out of reach.

AU in the Mercy-verse

Rated T - please mind the tags

Kyle is a BAMF, and no one can tell me otherwise.

Read on AO3

As soon as Kyle Brooks leaves the courtroom, he looked at his missed calls and texts. He loosens his red Ferragamo tie as he pulls up the missed call from Warren, his werewolf lover and mate. He'll check the four texts from Ben, the British werewolf that had become very dear to both of them over the last few years, as soon as he's talked to his mate. He presses the first speed dial and Warren picks up after two rings.

"Hey there Sexy Cowboy, what are you wearing?" he asks by way of greeting. Warren is tall, lanky, rugged and 100% pure Texas, which thrills Kyle to his Gucci loafers.

"Hm.. as much as I'd like to answer that, Darlin', I'm in mixed company," he replies with his sweet Texas twang, all loose vowels and soft consonants. It's code for werewolf business is going down and I can't say anything. The smile on Kyle's face drops off.

"You okay, love?"

"Right as rain. I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Please do. Oh! Before you go, is Ben with you? He texted me and I haven't had a chance to read them yet."

"Naw, he's working on his car," which was code that Ben was with Mercy.

"Thanks, baby. I love you. Be careful."

"Will do. Love you, too, Darlin'."

Warren hangs up with a click and Kyle quickly opens Ben's texts.

10:28 am

Kyle, Warren said to tell you that he has to go out to Uncle Mike's. He knows I'm not his f*ck*ing messenger boy, right?

10:28 am

Nvm told him myself. He flipped me off I'm so proud

I'm being sent over to Mercy's f*ck*ing garage to keep an eye on her fyi

11:02 am

Something happened & Adam told her to stay put & now she's pissed about it. she keeps FIXING CARS in my direction like it's my bloody fault

11:17 am

send help. she's threatening to s*dd*ing teach me how to change an oil filter for my own good. I know s*d all about cars. . call me when you get out of court

Kyle looks at the time and sees that it's 11:47 then presses his second speed dial to get Ben's phone. It goes to voicemail.

"Ben, it's Kyle. I'm sorry I didn't call back in time to save you from Mercy, darling. If you come greased up to the house tonight I'll ask you to change MY oil, too," he says with a laugh and blows a kiss into the phone for extra effect before he hangs up.

At two he finishes writing a brief and realizes that he still hasn't heard from either Warren or Ben. He sends a text to both of them asking if they're ok and goes back to work.

A knock at his door pulls him out of his research on a case he isn’t sure he can win, and he looks up to see his secretary poke her head in his office, her coat and purse in her hand.

“Mr. Brooks, I’m about to head out, is there anything you need before I go?”

“It’s five-thirty already? No, I’m good. See you tomorrow,” he says as he fishes his phone out from under a stack of papers. He waves as she closes the door and heads home. He checks his phone and there’s nothing from either Ben or Warren. Concern grips his chest and he dials Warren. It goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, babe, I haven’t heard from you or Ben. I hope you two are all right. I know you might be out by the reservation and not get this immediately. Call me as soon as you get this. I love you,” he says after the beep and hangs up. It’s not completely out of the ordinary that he can’t reach Warren so he quells the momentary panic. He could very well be in wolf form, or out of range, especially if he was out near the Fae reservation. Technology didn’t work reliably out there, so it could just be nothing.

Ben, on the other hand was more worrying. He hit the call button and heard it ring until it goes to voicemail and starts speaking at the beep.

“Benjamin, I’ve been expecting a call back. I haven’t heard from either you or Warren and I’m getting worried. I know how much of a trouble magnet Mercy is, so please let me know you’re okay. Right. Talk to you later, darling. Bye.”

He looks at the scattered papers on his desk and sorts everything neatly so he can get a fresh start in the morning. He’s too distracted to do any more work for the night, so he might as well go home. He plays with his phone, and makes the decision to call Adam’s place. Someone is always there and maybe they know what’s going on. He finds the contact number for the house phone and dials. After three rings, someone picks up.

“Hello, Hauptman residence,” a young female voice says over the line.

“Hi, it’s Kyle, is this Jesse?”

“Kyle! Hi! How are you? Yeah, it’s me,” she replies happily as she recognizes Kyle’s voice, “Are you looking for my dad or Warren?”

“Hi honeypie, I’m so happy to hear your voice. I’m looking for Warren, or even Ben. Are they there?”

“No, Dad and Warren had something they had to do at Uncle Mike’s and they haven’t come back yet. You know how bad the cell signal is out there, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I do. Ben was supposed to be with Mercy today. Are they back yet?”

“I didn’t know that. No, they’re not here. Why are you looking for that jerk anyway?”

“Oh, honey, what did Ben do now?”

“He’s just… ugh. He’s so mean sometimes. He told me yesterday that it looked like a mermaid died in my hair, because I dyed it blue and green.”

“That’s terrible, honey; I’m sure your hair looks beautiful! Do you want me to talk to him about it?”

“Why would you talk to Ben about being mean to me?” Jesse asks, baffled.

“You didn’t know we’re friends?” it’s Kyle’s turn to be confused.

“Nobody’s friends with Ben, except Mercy. You’re also a guy, Kyle. He’s not so mean to guys,” she says matter-of-factly. It makes Kyle sad to hear it.

“You’re right, and that’s a big problem with him. I do know he’s been trying to be better, sweetie, but changes that big don’t happen overnight.  You should just ignore him when he’s Ben the Grouch. I’ll ask him to be nicer to you if you want.”

“If you think he’d listen to you, which I don’t.”

“Well, I do,” he promises.  “Darling, I have to go. If you hear something about Warren and Ben, please let me know. You have my number right?”

“Yeah, I do. You’ll come by soon, right? You’re just about the only adult that listens to me around here.”

“Werewolves, right? I promise. Talk to you later, sweetie,” he says and disconnects the phone. He bites his lip and makes a decision to drive over to Mercy’s Garage, just in case something happened.

--

When Kyle parks his Jag outside of the garage, all the lights are on and the bays are open, which is odd as it’s past closing time. Mercy’s rabbit and Kyle’s truck are parked in the lot, which means they should be inside. He doesn’t see any movement in the shop, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t in the office. He pops the trunk and grabs the tire iron, just in case. The gravel crunches loudly under his feet as he walks to the closest open bay, loud enough that Ben should hear him coming. He looks inside and sees tools strewn about the floor next to a work bench, and the chairs from the waiting area are all flipped over as if they were thrown. There’s a werewolf sized dent in the hood of the old GTI that’s sitting in the second bay, and the window is smashed to pieces. He hopes that’s how the car came into the shop and not the direct result of Ben smashing into the car. His bad feeling goes from bad to worse, and pulls out his phone. He sends a group text to Warren and Adam.

6:25pm

At Mercy’s garage, looks like there was a fight. Will text again in five, don’t call til then Send help

He pockets the phone and hefts the tire iron. Its heavy weight is comforting in his hands and does a couple squats to limber up his legs. If he has to fight, he will. He had a black belt, after all, even though he was terribly out of practice, he could kick ass. Hopefully if it came to that, it was a human foe and not a supernatural one.

Kyle scans the shadows of the garage, looking for anything that could be hiding there and finds nothing. Slowly, and as quietly as he can, he starts walking to the office door.

The door is ajar, which is wrong. Mercy makes sure the door is always kept closed to keep it the comfortable  temperature of whatever she’s set the HVAC at. He looks into the room and it’s dark, which isn’t good. He doesn’t have werewolf vision, so he can’t see beyond the strip of light that shines in from the garage.

He thinks he sees a booted foot on the floor, attached to a slim figure which is Mercy-shaped. He pushes the door open with the tire iron and reaches for the light switch and flips it on. Suddenly the room is bathed in light and that is most definitely Mercy sprawled on the floor.

He quickly scans the office to make sure there’s no one else there and rushes in to check on her. He drops the tire iron with a loud clang and he checks her pulse. Thankfully, she’s breathing, her pulse is strong, but she’s got several ugly bruises on her face and a split lip that is still oozing blood into a pool on the floor. Whatever happened here wasn’t that long ago. He gently shakes her arm. She moans and starts moving around as she comes to.

“Careful there, Mercy, take it easy. Can you sit up? Is anything broken?” he asks as he gently helps her turn over.

“Kyle? Where’s Ben? There was a witch and then a fight,” she slurs as she sits up and rubs her head, “Ouch.”

“I didn’t see Ben. He’s not in the garage and both of your vehicles are still parked out front. I’ll go look around back. Here, your lip is still bleeding,” he says as he pulls a clean handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to her, “I’ll be right back, so sit still and rest for a minute.”

“Thanks. Be careful.”

“I will. I haven’t been able to reach Adam or Warren, but I texted them to send help. Be right back.”

Kyle picks up the tire iron and does a quick perimeter search. He doesn’t find Ben, which scares him. He pulls his phone back out and sends the promised text to Adam and Warren.

6:31pm

Mercy’s here but was roughed up. Ben was probably taken. She says there was a witch. Call me ASAP

He walks back into the garage and Mercy has pulled herself off the floor and is sitting in the office chair pressing the handkerchief to her lip.

“He’s gone. How bad are you, hon? Can you walk?” He asks and rubs her shoulder gently. She winces and he stops with a muttered apology.

“I can walk. It’s going to hurt for a couple days, but I’ll be alright.”

“Good, now tell me what happened? Do you think they took Ben, whoever they are? God, please tell me he’s still alive!?”

“Ben’s still alive,” she says with certainty, “I can feel him through the Pack bonds, but he feels like he’s far away.”

“Oh, thank god,” Kyle says with relief.  “Can you find him?”

“I don’t know. I can try.”

“Does all of this have to do with the meeting that was going on at Uncle Mike’s earlier today?”

“How do you know about that? Nevermind, you’re Warren’s mate, of course you’d find out about it. The meeting was between Alistair Beauclaire and Adam, Darryl, and Warren. From what I understand, a witch named Euphenia has been seen near the Fae reservation and Alistair wanted to ask for help finding her. She’s got a bone to pick with the Grey Lords because they tricked her at some point. She wants revenge and she thinks that she can use the Walking Stick, though I’m not sure I know why; it’s not going to obey her. She has some sort of earth elemental under her control. That thing knocked me out. Ben fought hard but was knocked out while Euphenia kept me busy. She left without the Walking Stick, and probably wants to use Ben as leverage for it.

“Can you tell if he’s hurt?”

“I don’t… think… so? He alive and not happy, that’s about all I can tell through the pack bond right now. If we can get a hold of Adam, he probably could tell us more.”

“I texted them back and told them to call me ASAP, but so far nothing. Do you think they’re on the Reservation and just not getting service?”

“I can’t tell, but if they’re out there, that’s most likely. We may be on our own.”

“Mercy, we have to get Ben back. I don’t want to think about what she might be doing to him! He’s got enough issues without this on top of everything else.”

“You two seem to be pretty close. Huh. When did that happen? He’s never really said anything about you other than you and Warren make him come over for “shitty” movie nights.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. When does Ben ever really talk about himself? He bitches and grumbles, yeah, but he’s really good at not saying much about himself. He doesn’t have many friends in the pack from what I understand, and unfortunately, a lot of them think that being gay is a communicable disease. If they found out that we’re close, some of them might think he’s another one of us fags and start causing trouble. He’s got enough problems without dealing with homophobic werewolf assholes.”

“Good point, but still, I thought we were friends.”

“He respects you, Mercy. That’s more than most people get from him,” Kyle says gently.

Werewolf ideas of sexuality piss Kyle off, and he tries not to think about it most of the time. He and Warren get plenty of flack from certain members of the pack, and a small, but older, contingent of the werewolves still think that Kyle can’t be Warren’s mate because they can’t reproduce. That’s utter bullshit, he thinks, especially since Warren has explained that female werewolves can’t carry to term. It invalidates the whole argument of what makes a person a mate.

Ben, on the other hand, really doesn’t give two shits about who people sleep with. He’s of the new generation of werewolf that has the modern perceptions and acceptance of different sexualities. However, he learned to keep his mouth shut when confronted with homophobia in the London pack and has just skated along with the status quo.

Kyle thinks Ben is bisexual, but is so blinded by his misogyny and his past experiences that he’s repressed whatever sexual desire he might have. Or, he could be spaghetti and just not care about the gender of whoever he’s had sex with in the past because it was never anything more than fucking. Or not. Ben’s a mystery that Kyle puzzles over from time to time.

It really didn’t matter because being branded as homosexual while being a werewolf was a death sentence, according to Warren. Warren happened to be dominant enough and powerful enough to survive, but Ben most certainly wasn’t. He’d never risk it, even if he decided he liked men. Kyle hated that Ben had to deal with such archaic thinking, so he wasn’t at all offended if Ben didn’t make their friendship common knowledge.

“So what’s the plan, Mercy? We need to find Ben, but how?”

“I might be able to track him by scent if I become Coyote, if I can pick up a trail.”

“And then what? We charge into the witch’s lair, kick her ass, and save Ben? That sounds dangerous. I’m in,” Kyle tells her with all sincerity.

“Kyle, witches are incredibly dangerous, and you’re human. If we find her, we’ll have to wait for the pack to mount a rescue. I couldn’t face Warren if something happened to you.”

“I couldn’t face myself if she’s hurting him, Mercy. He’s my friend and I care about him. We have to try.”

“Alright. Let’s see if we can find them first, then make a plan from there.”

“No plan survives first contact with the enemy. We might be the cavalry.”

“Are you actually willing to die for Ben, Kyle?” she asks, amazed.

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

“Does Warren know how much of a badass you are, Kyle Brooks?”

“Of course he does. My ass is one of my best features,” he replies with a saucy wink.

#wild heart #for those below #mercy thompson #mercy thompson fic #kyle brooks #warren smith #ben shaw #ben/kyle/warren #warren/ben/kyle #kyle/ben/warren #m/m/m #kyle brooks is a BAMF

[centeris2]

Rebecca begins to fix her mistakes and prepare for the worst. Ydris has a bad dream. Scott makes waffles.

Scott didn’t question how Rebecca had managed to 1 - steal all the blankets, 2 - get on the other side of him, or 3 - drool in his hair. He didn’t have time to wake her up and question her about her sleeping acrobatics, or go down on her as he had considered doing before he fell asleep the previous night.

He didn’t have time for that because someone was knocking quite insistently at the door.

“Mmph?” he groaned, sitting up.

“Scott? Sorry to wake you-” Ydris’ voice surprised Scott, but sure enough the magician was there, opening the door and letting himself in.

“Yeah?” Scott asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, curious by the look of concern the Pandorian wore.

“Oh, she’s here,” Ydris sighed, looking relieved when he spotted Rebecca in bed with Scott.

“Oh! You’re making progress!” Ydris chirped, realizing what Rebecca in bed with Scott meant.

“Heh, yeah,” Scott blushed, looking down, realizing he was very naked. So was Rebecca. Not that Ydris minded but…

“Mm?” Rebecca sat up, looking around as she slowly woke up, “oh, mornin’ Ydris.”

There was a pause before she eeped and grabbed the blanket to cover herself and shout, “boundaries! Ydris! We’ve talked about them!”

“Sorry my two turtle doves,” Ydris apologized, wincing, “but you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Something up?” Scott asked, on edge.

“Just a bad dream it seems,” Ydris reassured Scott, “though I believe Rebecca has questions for me?”

“Questions?” Rebecca thought for a moment before she groaned and smacked her forehead, “ugh, right. Fuck. Yesterday. Shoo so I can put on clothes.”

Ydris blinked and Rebecca sighed, her clothes suddenly on.

“Ooor you could do that. I’m a big girl, I can dress myself,” Rebecca grumbled but hopped out of bed, “come on, cowboy, maybe you can help narrow down possible potions your dad used,” she said giving Scott’s hair a ruffle before she kissed his forehead.

“I dunno how much help I’ll be,” Scott mumbled, getting up. He didn’t mind nearly as much about being naked in front of Ydris.

“Then you can make some breakfast,” she teased, leaving the room.

“Scott,” Ydris began, waiting in the doorway for Scott to get dressed.

“Yeah?”

“I am truly glad you are recovering,” Ydris said with a kind smile before he reached out his hand. Scott gave his hand to Ydris, blushing when the magician kissed it. Scott’s blush deepened and his stomach jumped when Ydris looked up at him and added, “truly, I am.”

“So am I,” Scott managed, trying to breath normally after that look. Ydris had that effect on him.

Scott made himself useful making breakfast, Rebecca and Ydris looking at a book from Pi.

“So what was your dream?” Rebecca asked when Scott was out of the room.

“It does not-”

“My phone has 7 missed calls from you,” Rebecca insisted, quietly, looking at Ydris.

“A candle had gone out.”

“What?”

“I had a dream of candles, one was snuffed out. Lisa, Louisa, and Anna were easy to find, but you weren’t at your stable or in your room. I was worried,” Ydris mumbled the last bit with a blush, not able to look at the light sitting next to him.

“Well I’m not snuffed out yet. So, I need help with mind control potions and figuring out what Valdemar Buttergood did,” Rebecca began, catching Ydris up on the events of the previous day, finishing up as Scott brought out waffles and eggs.

“So? Any thoughts?” Scott asked, catching the last bit of the conversation.

“Many, but pertaining to this? Only a few,” Ydris admitted, taking a waffle without a plate, making it float while mysterious purple syrup appeared on it. Everyone had learned to stop asking, and Ydris had warned them against trying to eat it.

“So?” Rebecca asked before she purred, “aww, chocolate chips! Thanks!” she said to Scott when he handed her a plate.

“I have an idea what Valdemar used, or at least the type of potion he used. The exact ingredients I can’t be sure though, I’m more familiar with Pandorian ingredients after all, but there are plenty of materials that can only be found on Earth. Did you ever notice any strange items, closets, things, around your ah, childhood residence?” Ydris asked Scott.

“No? Well, maybe? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Glowing plants, crystals, various unfamiliar organs, teeth, ash, wood,” Ydris listed, continuing with a long train of seemingly random objects.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. But there are a lot of places to hide things on Butter Hill, and a lot of locked places I couldn’t go, so maybe?” Scott shrugged and sat down with his own plate of waffles and eggs.

“Hmm, you didn’t smell strongly of magic, which you in theory should if you lived in a building with a large amount of magical objects. Unless they were properly contained…” Ydris mumbled the last part, considering that since the Buttergoods had magic recipes they may also have properly sealed magical items.

“So, what? Do I need to like, go start stealing books?” Rebecca asked.

“It may be useful to ask any magic dealers you know if they had any strange orders lately,” Ydris suggested.

“I only know a few, and I know Pi and Frederik didn’t. Maybe Mrs. Holdsworth? Or those bookshop people?” Rebecca thought aloud before considering, “but if it’s someone I don’t know they might not tell me.”

“You they will tell,” Ydris assured her.

“Alright, what about my other project?” Rebecca asked, Scott raising an eyebrow.

“I think I can help with that,” Ydris purred, far too self importantly.

“I feel like there is a catch.”

“What project?” Scott asked.

“Stacking the deck in my favor,” Rebecca explained cryptically before nudging Ydris to elaborate.

“Well, you may have noticed my charms…” the magician teased, Scott blushing and Rebecca rolling her eyes.

“What, can I bottle your charms up?” Rebecca asked.

“In a sense, my attractiveness to the majority of humans is due to my Pandorian physiology!”

“Uh huh?” Rebecca didn’t follow.

“They just can’t help but be drawn to me when around me, the closer the stronger the pull,” he teased, peacocking a bit.

“A pheromone?”

“Correct!” he applauded Rebecca for guessing it.

“So, what, I need your sweat or something?”

“Something, indeed,” he winked, Rebecca and Scott blushing.

“Yes, my sweat will suffice,” he confirmed after the dirty connotations.

“Right, so, one ingredient dow- wait I don’t want people attracted to me I just want them to do what I say,” Rebecca clarified.

“I’d do that,” Scott said a bit dreamily, looking at the pair.

“It should lower their guard and increase suggestibility, which in my case often results in an attraction to me, and makes susceptibility to illusions much higher.”

“Ah, I see. Okay, so now to figure out-”

“Here,” Ydris conjured a pen and quill, writing down a recipe for her.

“Uh, I think Pi wanted me to do this on my own, not have you hand it to me…” Rebecca mumbled, happy to have the answer but feeling bad as she watched Ydris write down exactly what to do and what she needed.

“She and I can assign you projects later,” Ydris dismissed the concern, hiding his own. His dreams had not just been about candles, and knowing more about what had occurred yesterday put some pieces together for him. They weren’t good pieces.

“I don’t even know what some of this is…” Rebecca muttered as she read the ingredient list.

“I believe you said you know some magic dealers?” Ydris suggested, handing her the finished recipe.

“Yeah, it’s where Scott and I got all those books,” Rebecca motioned toward the bookshelf full of creature lore.

“Want me to come with?” Scott asked, hopeful for a day out.

“You might want to stay in, since, well…” Rebecca suggested, knowing he wasn’t happy about it.

“Yeah,” Scott pouted, watching as Ydris ate his purple covered waffle, “safer in here.”

“I can keep you company,” Ydris winked at Scott before more seriously nodding to the bookshelf, “there are fascinating topics in there to discuss.”

Rebecca left them with Ydris going into a detailed explanation of the difference between Pandorian werewolves and Earth werewolves, complete with Ydris drawing diagrams on chalkboards.

#sso #star stable #starstable #star stable online #starstableonline #fanfiction #My Work #My Writing

[kaorei-endgame]

Ranking of Resident Evil save room themes?

I got my first latte of the season, it’s chilly enough to wear pants indoors, #Streamtober started yesterday. LET’S DO THIS, NICK. >:O 

17. Resident Evil 6 Chapter Ends, All Characters: Back to the cabbage patch. None of you are valid, with your Netflix Original knock-off of some ABC knock-off of 24-ass soundtrack. Go suck a giraffe’s dick with an Ada clone, Jake Muller.

16. Resident Evil, Deadly Silence: What is this Resident Evil for Babiez? Nintendogz+ResidentEvilz? Imagine listening to this on the crappy DS speakers. Wasn’t there something creepy about Jill’s costume in this game, like you could tear pieces of it off, or am I just conjuring fall memories and combining them with how they went out of the way to add boob bounce to the REmake 15 years after the fact, and now Jill’s boobs on PS4 undulate languidly beneath her shirt like a pair of Dragon Quest Slimes yearning to be free. This track: aural despair, unleavened. A way to quickly induce nausea in dogs who have eaten chocolate or raisins.

15. Resident Evil 6, Ada Chapter End: Well, okay, this one is all right. The first fifteen seconds feel like a HiFi version of a track from those Playstation 1 top-down shooters where you played a murder clown or a pyro guy escaping a space prison where you were held for crimes you definitely DID commit. The little background jog kicks in soon after and look, I’m a soft sell for ululation, what can I say.** But it just all just serves to stir memories like embers finally gone to smolder beneath the fireplace ash, stoking them after all these years, reminding me what a weird psycho they turned Ada into in this game. I like reflecting on how people got so mad about there not being co-op in Ada’s campaign that Capcom patched in a partner but his name is like “TeamMate” or “Buddy” and he has no lines of dialogue and is never addressed in the story in any way and thus is either a figment of Ada’s imagination or he’s a real dude who’s just pretty quiet and ultimately drowned on that sub? Well, I guess life’s tough if you’re the (potentially imagination) friend of an ex-spy turned pod person.

**(i contacted my musician friend, Kylie, who confirmed that ululation  was the term i was thinking of, lest i second guess myself. at the same time, i’ll post her text here lest i misrepresent her words “Yeah, ululate as a technical term is vibrato using the tongue, so that would be wrong, but ululate as a descriptor refers to a sound that has a very pronounced waver between tones to it.” cool! i’ve often wondered if that’s the most accurate way to describe it. thanks Kylie!! :D)

14. Resident Evil Revelations 2: Claire gets the best costumes probably across the whole series and yet it feels like she’s gotten the least love of all the main cast. I never really got it, she looks good in denim, whether jacket or pant, and her Revelations 2 blazer does her all the favors. But now they’re remaking RE2 and they turned her face into this weird porcelain Precious Moments dol—MY BELOVED DAUGHTER. MY MOIRA. I SWEAR I’LL FIND YOU. FOR THE SAKE OF JBLL I WILL AVENGE YOU AND THE OTHER ONE.

13. Resident Evil 0: What’s with all the shivery whiney stuff. Like your younger sibling running nails down the chalkboard of your spine, like how the speed run of this game hinges on juggling an evasive bat with 5 out of the 6 flame rounds on hand, so try. Neither relaxing nor scary. Do I hear something like a bongo in the distance? That is the clarion call of Becky Chamber’s goose booty coming home to roost.

12. Resident Evil 7: I had a dream last night about this game. If you have phobias about glass and/or mouths and/or wasp genitals, I would skip this paragraph. I was in the house where you have to run away from the mom with the disgusting wasp hive vagina. Also—unrelated and yet somehow related, as dreams always are—I had opened a beer bottle in such a way that the stem broke. I had decided to drink it anyway and now, as I progressed through the house, I found that there seemed to be endless small slivers of glass in my mouth that I had to repeatedly spit out lest they cut me. When I woke up, my jaw was clenched to the point of soreness. Welcome to the family, I guess. Otherwise this save room music reminds me of the game itself: mostly dull and barely there.

11. Resident Evil Revelations: Item Box Music, only Save Room Adjcanet. Can’t disassociate this from the “swish-swish-swish-SHUCK” sound effects of navigating menus to equip Charge Shot 2 to my Shotgun. Not as pleasing or as integrated into my bone marrow as  the Resident Evil 3 equivalent, but I have probably played this game through thirteen or fourteen times at this point. Life is short and yet the strings of fate tug us the directions they will.

10. Resident Evil 5: Again, this is menu music. No save rooms at all in this game. Anyway I have no inherent memory of this song because I’m sure I’ve talked over it while upgrading my M92FS to 100 bullet capacity 110% of the times I’ve played this game. Exempted from higher echelon of rankings on these technicalities, but still A POOR PERFORMANCE INDEED for Not The Best Resident Evil Yet Paradoxically The One That’s Given Me The Most Joy In My life.

9. Resident Evil, Dead Aim

: Wow I almost can’t believe I don’t remember this despite playing this game enough to write a speedrun guide for it. Well, that was the style at the time. As was a bloated zombie corpse boss, I suppose (long before Left 4 Dead, those copy cats), whose weak spot was its exposed brain which, halfway through the fight when you’d done enough damage, would pop out and dance a sprightly jig on its brainstem every time you shot it. With the whisper of wind and rain and single intermittent synth I feel like I’m living in a cyberpunk future and not a game whose protagonist’s “””cajun””” accent is as questionable as its presentation of the antagonist’s gender.

8. Resident Evil, Umbrella Chronicles

: Hey now, weird bit of the creepy-freaky bass here kind of does put you in a certain headspace, but it’s not the headspace i remember of this game, which was basically unplayable in co-op for the final 3rd because a failed QTE would result in a hunter slicing away half your health. Good for an Into the Breach playlist to keep you focused on the action and stop you from trying to play it while also binging a Netflix show about werewolves that you didn’t really like anyway, and splitting your attention between visual mediums is just getting Good Pilots Killed.

7. Resident Evil 2: Ominous. Maybe TOO Ominous at points. Aren’t save rooms about being safe? I guess we could argue that because the save room reflects the lacuna of safety  BING BONG piano is the Try Hard version of video game music asking “you scurred yet?” Perhaps a novice mistake from a first-time director who would go on to do so many great things (well, RE2 among them, no lie). In a way, this fits with Rookie Cop Leon S. Kennedy, and anyway it’s so over the top I’m kind of okay with it. Most innervating when first heard on your way to equip a cowgirl costume for fast-firing six-shooter action. Guns suck, and cowboys too, but both are okay if we experience them in the abstract sense. This is what culture teaches us. Fan the trigger.

6. Resident Evil 4: A surprisingly gentle one, considering the series turn towards action from which it would never recover. I am transported to the early minutes of a horror movie where the audience knows something the protagonist doesn’t about the terror that’s about to befall them while they blithely pick up a desiccated nudie mag in an old shed on a haunted property they inherited from their estranged uncle, more focused on the “ballistics” before them than the axe murderer crouched in the shadows of disused farm equipment behind.

5. Resident Evil 3, Nemesis: More languid riff on 2. Strings get you shivery, and no more than a single BONG per two measures proves that save room music is as much about the notes you DON’T play. Two bongs to scare, but one bong to keep you on your toes, disallowing you from getting *too* relaxed by the soothing bleeps and bloops as you combine the 3 Gunpowder As you just found to make sure you have enough ammo to pistol-juke the so-called unkillable Nemesis. You’re not coward, but that doesn’t make you brave. Discretion is the better part of valor, they say, but that’s not taking into account that non-discretiony valor rewards you directly with a faster-firing pistol with critical headshots. :3

4. Resident Evil 1, Vanilla: Gentle, plucky strings make you question your memory, more familiar with later revisions than you are this one. How often was I in this place? Or does its primacy belie its immediacy? If I went to the strange, pointless closet around the corner from this medicine save room, would I find a broken shotgun I expect there, a round of magnum ammo, or simply the ghost of discarded aspirations masking as memories. I recall a time when it felt like time was enough, but then again, this was back when anything sub-three hours would get you the infinite rocket launcher, regardless of how many First Aid Sprays you used.

3. Resident Evil 1, REmake: High fidelity version of RE1’s gentle strings remind you of simpler times when your worst fears were zombies resurrecting into scarier, faster zombies with claws. What we wouldn’t give to go back to those days, and maybe tell ourselves not to take out so much student debt. Listening to this sends a pulse of gentle energy through my shoulder blades that makes me think “relaxation,” though I’m not sure my body understands the meaning of the word. A respite in trying eras, there is no association with the tension of shaving 15 minutes off your time to be competitive. “Safe Heaven,” they call it; a theme for a place that is not our own, but should be.

2. Resident Evil 1, Director’s Cut: Wow I did not expect music box chimes and tones stirs something ancestral in my blood. I’ve played the Director’s Cut far more times than the original RE1 and this is like coming home to a big house where I enjoyed an idyllic childhood, but I now know every box is filled with the creepy knife doll from Onimusha. Though these senations are foreign to me, something about them inspires a thirst for a homeland I never knew.

1. Resident Evil Code Veronica: The absolute chillest. In life, paths may wind, but the ultimate  The strings are tickling your spine. You’re so relaxed you feel like oiling your ponytail, and you could even take a nap in Steve Burnside’s arms without reflexively gagging. When you hear this, you are at peace, and the world seems like a place that can be kind. Truly, the Code is Veronica.

and don’t forget to vote in our poll on whether or not we’re playing Claire A or Leon A tonight!

#resident evil #save rooms #survival horror

[elenajohansenauthor]

So, from reading your blog, I notice you read (and write!) romance. I've never "officially" gotten into the romance genre - even though I'm sure books I've read in the past have fallen into that category. Any favorites or recommendations for someone who is interested but has no clue where to start? I'll admit that whenever I think "romance" I usually think only of Nicholas Sparks or covers depicting shirtless men embracing a swooning lady from behind lol.

What a wonderful question, and it’s going to take me half a novel to answer it properly, so here I go.

From the outside, the world of romance novels can seem like an impenetrable monolith of a genre where all the men are shirtless/ride horses or motorcycles/sweep ladies in gorgeous dresses off their feet.

It’s not. There are SO many subgenres it’s actually difficult to know where to begin handing out recommendations.

But first, the elephant in the room. Some books labeled “romance” will have no sex scenes. Some will have fade-to-black-type moments where you know the characters are about to get frisky but that’s where the scene break cuts it off. Some will have a few scenes and some will have LOTS OH MY GOD DO THESE CHARACTERS HAVE JOBS OR RESPONSIBILITIES.

For those not comfortable reading about sex, look for “clean” romances. Often clean also = “Christian,” but not always.

In everything else, the amount of sex on the page will vary wildly, depending on the author’s style, the storyline, and in many cases the genre--expect BDSM-themed books, for example, to have lots of sex (they generally do in my experience) whereas a small-town guy/girl-next-door type series may have less (again, according to my experience.)

So, with that out of the way, where to start?

I can recommend myself, obviously, though my two works are hardly typical. I’m not saying that to come off like a special snowflake--I say that because I deliberately chose to blend two genres that aren’t often meshed together, romance and post-apocalyptic fiction. What it ends up being is a slow-burn romance set in a survival-horror-esque world, though with fewer jump scares and more dread. I love them--but then, I wrote them, and I always try to smash as many tropes as possible. For example, my male lead is more emotionally honest and sensitive than my female lead, because I got tired of reading about love “opening up” closed-off men. So he’s got his heart on his sleeve and she’s the fortress, flipping the script.

So yeah, my books are part romance and part “how awful would the end of the world really be.” Pretty bad, as it turns out.

That being said, I am reading another dystopian-type series that I’m really enjoying, the Beyond series by Kit Rocha. It’s super-BDSM, so skip it that’s not your thing, but it came to my attention via an article praising the series for its embrace of enthusiastic consent. Consent is murky sometimes, especially in a lot of older romances (rape-mances, some people call them now) where some innocent young lady is swept off her feet by that shirtless hero and “wooed” somewhat against her will, but *nudge-wink* she’s really okay with it. Pretty gross to a lot of modern readers, but things have changed since the ‘70s and ‘80s. And they’re not all like that, anyway, but a lot sadly were.

If kink is your thing, then I can recommend The Boss series by @jennytrout, and the Bound series by @bronwyngreenauthor and @authorjessjarman. Both have high-quality writing with engaging, likeable and believable characters, plenty of steamy scenes, and (usually) solid happy endings.

If you’re interested in historical romances, I know very little about them myself as I’ve only read a few. I will point you at @romancingthebookworm‘s blog for further research.

If you happen to be interested in (relatively) clean fantasy-centered-around-love-stories, then I’d like to tell you about Sharon Shinn. Her works are definitely shelved as fantasy (though I’ve occasionally seen them classified as “paranormal romance” which is technically true but also slightly misleading, that’s usually werewolves and vampires and other mythical stuff) but all of her works focus on romantic relationships that develop alongside the larger plot. I loved her work before I ever started reading “romance.” Her first works are the Samaria series, all about sci-fi angels and their mortal lovers; there’s also the Twelve Houses series, which is more high-fantasy, magic, feudal political wrangling. Her current (ie, unfinished) series focuses on elemental magic and is a little harder to classify as romance (so far) so if you’re interested I’d start with one of the other two. She’s also got a handful of standalone novels, of which I’d recommend Heart of Gold (love and also biological warfare? but it works) and one of her YA novels, Summers at Castle Auburn, again, high-fantasy, with a solid coming-of-age story worked into the romance, which I adored.

I’m still a newbie in a lot of modern subgenres, I’ve got some shifter romances on the Kindle waiting their turn for a read, plus some firefighter and motorcycle club novels. Yes, those are both genres. So are billionaire romances, cowboys, police, SEALs, cyborgs (never read one but apparently it’s a thing), second-chance romances, rock stars (I’m actually writing a rock band double romance novel right now)...

...And then sometimes you get someone going for that super-small niche, the Billionaire Alpha-Shifter CEO romance. Yes, I’ve seen one. Didn’t buy it.

My general advice beyond specific recommendations is to try a bunch of first-in-series books out. To do that cheaply, there’s the library if you’ve got one handy, and I’ve gotten a few that way. What I do far more often, since I have a Kindle, is go to the Kindle romance section and look for the “bestsellers” link. It will take you to a page with the bestselling paid romances, but there’s a second section (near the top of the page) for the Top 100 Free books of the moment. I browse through them and “buy” anything that looks even halfway interesting based on the blurb and a handful of reviews. Do I get a lot of duds that way? Absolutely. But I’ve definitely found new authors I liked as well, and I went on to purchase more of their work. (Which is exactly why they offer free books, of course.)

I know this may seem woefully inadequate, because it is. The romance world is too big to be pinned down by any one person, though I’m certainly trying to expand my knowledge of more subgenres, that’s definitely part of my reading plan this year.

[fyrapartnersearch]

hey pardner, why the long face?

howdy, howdy friends! hope you're doing well in these scary times <3 shock and surprise, i am looking for a couple of writing partners c: i am 26, she/her, cst, and i work fulltime as well as go to school part-time, so while i cannot promise rapidfire posts, i am becoming better about daily posts! as long as they're relatively short, sweet, and to the point. so, limits/fun factoids about my style/"tl;dr are we compatible?" first: + when reaching out to me, please tell me your limits and any plot/character ideas! + addendum: i will not respond to messages that don't contain any information about you, your limits, and what you're looking to write or what characters you'd like to use! it doesn't need to be completely fleshed out, thanks in advance <3 + i'm adaptable and laidback! however, i do not write pedophilia, rape/sexual assault, incest, abusive relationships, romantic large age gaps, nor master x slave. + i will not write with minors either, strongly preferred that you are 21+ + quality is far more valuable than quantity regarding length. i prefer shorter nowadays! those tasty, 1-3 para potato chip rps, so to speak c: + third person only, please +i do like long-term! + i admittedly have a preference for m// lately, so i will likely turn some other pairings down depending on what i am currently already writing! + i prefer writing middle-aged to older farts! i wholeheartedly welcome the same! + note: i love writing with pretty boy archetypes!! but i have plenty with my current threads, bring me yer more grizzled and rough and tough boys! the two characters i have in mind are too old and boring to keep up with pretty, lithe youngins! + i love ooc chatter! i'd prefer it if you did too, but it's absolutely okay if you're just interested in writing! it is not a dealbreaker + if you're not feeling it or if life happens, that's okay. you are free to either tell me you want a change, drop altogether, or even ghost me! [cravings] + constantly changing! i have a couple of silly nuggets rolling around. mostly fluff with sprinkled angst. + post apocalypse slice of life is also great. with plenty of humor to spare. + something deeply silly about a witch and their familiar + anything with werewolves and their human beloved very concerned about the recent furniture chewing phase, and wow is frontline expensive for a 400lb beast. + something a bit more rocky, but an old fashioned western physician falling for an outlaw/ sheriff/ rancher, etc. bonus points for post-apoc and western themed. please, i got the perfect ole grizzled doc for this c: [modern] + i love modern, but i am not really looking too intensely for it right now c: i am happy writing about firefighters and lawyers, scientists, military readjusting to civilian life, boring divorced dads who find lifelong love with other divorced dads, fluffy slice-of-life, etc. [(somewhat) historic] + btw, i am not a history buff - so be prepared for anachronisms galore! c: which might mean plumbing and dental care centuries before it was introduced. + noire crime! old grizzled detectives and their partners in crime trying to figure out these gosh dang murders. dang killers, bringing down everyone's vibes. + a detective moving to a podunk old town, with a ~mysterious past~. however, there isn't any mysterious past, the locals just humor the guy and i have a soft spot for the detective falling for the sheriff while constantly heckling him for assistance. + western! please, just... anything western. i love cowboys, ranches, train robberies, just... i will maybe propose if you let me indulge this. [fantasy & monsters] + i am also happy to write fantasy! + fantasy can genuinely be blended into anything, into modern, sci-fi, post apocalyptic, etc. + i am also happy with pure, vanilla, cheesy fantasy - with kings, queens, beautiful warhorses and kingdoms by the sea, and conventionally attractive people with healthy teeth and... far less dysentery. + i am happy to write sci-fi into fantasy - hunters/mercenaries with eyes that can hologram maps and prey, platinum horses made of gaskets and titanium joints who breathe steam, a kingdom in the sky, anything! [... guilty pleasures] + i love the cheesy and humorous things to temper the chaos. love, love, love writing that domestic, usually peaceful, sweet life of two happy people who have been together for ages or just met in their golden years after struggle and just... working for their happy endings. + though i am not usually interested in cheesy, obnoxious tropes... i have a soft spot for two grumpy, gruff guys falling for each other c: [miscellaneous] + this is hardly an exhaustive list of ideas or themes that interest me! if you have something in mind that you do not see, or anything at all, please do let me know! i love brainstorming and hearing ideas c: what characters do i have in mind? plenty! craving two in particular, but i have plenty more in mind if the following two don't catch your interest: + one is svelte, aloof, posh, thoughtful. the very characterization of something like... a sleek, abyssinian cat playing the cello. intriguing, a little odd, an intimidating, coded villain - but really, just socially awkward, and a sweetheart. + the other is beefy, grumpy, and also... a goof at the core. the archetype of an ornery grandpa with the warmest heart and a distinguished grey streak in his hair. both are middle-aged men and adaptable to anything from old-fashioned fantasy, to modern, to sci-fi, to fantasy-modern hybrids, to post apocalyptic. they can be rogues, kings, survivors, lawyers, detectives, chefs, scientists, neighbors, loyal right-hands, anything from protectors and anchors to the village/office boob. i am preferring to write the former gentleman, but i am up to write either, or someone completely different! i am also happy to elaborate upon contact if you are interested! fortunately, each one is more complex than several adjectives and a stereotypical archetype. i'd also love to hear the characters you have in mind! are you interested? well, neat-o! dm me at howdy^3#6518 on discord or email me at [email protected] (however, i do not write over email. this is only so if you don't feel comfortable sharing discord names until after first contact c: )

#independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #oneline #long term #messenger #submission

[fyrapartnersearch]

Yeehaw, the apocalypse is nigh!

howdy, howdy fine folks! shock and surprise, i am looking for a couple of writing partners c: i am 26, she/her, cst, and i work fulltime as well as go to school part-time, so while i cannot promise rapidfire posts, i am becoming better about daily posts! as long as they're relatively short, sweet, and to the point. so, limits/fun factoids about my style/"tl;dr are we compatible?" first: + when reaching out to me, please tell me your limits and any plot/character ideas!  + addendum: i will not respond to messages that don't contain any information about you, your limits, and what you're looking to write or what characters you'd like to use! it doesn't need to be completely fleshed out, thanks!  + i'm adaptable and laidback! however, i do not write pedophilia, rape/sexual assault, incest, abusive relationships, romantic large age gaps, nor master x slave. i will not write explicit content with minors either, strongly preferred that you are 21+.  + quality is far more valuable than quantity regarding length. i prefer shorter nowadays! those tasty, 1-3 para potato chip rps, so to speak c: + third person only, please +i do like long-term!  + i admittedly have a preference for m// lately, so i will likely turn some other pairings down depending on what i am currently already writing! + i prefer writing middle-aged to older farts! they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, identities, and backgrounds! i wholeheartedly welcome the same! + i love ooc chatter! i'd prefer it if you did too, but it's absolutely okay if you're just interested in writing! it is not a dealbreaker + if you're not feeling it or if life happens, that's okay. you are free to either tell me you want a change, drop altogether, or even ghost me!  [cravings] + constantly changing! i have a couple of silly nuggets rolling around. mostly fluff with sprinkled angst. + post apocalypse slice of life is also great. with plenty of humor to spare. + something deeply silly about a witch and their familiar + anything with werewolves and their human beloved very concerned about the recent furniture chewing phase, and wow is frontline expensive for a 400lb beast. + something a bit more rocky, but an old fashioned western physician falling for an outlaw/ sheriff/ rancher, etc. bonus points for post-apoc and western themed. please, i got the perfect ole grizzled doc for this c: [modern] + i love modern, but i am not really looking too intensely for it right now c: i am happy writing about firefighters and lawyers, scientists, military readjusting to civilian life, boring divorced dads who find lifelong love with other divorced dads, fluffy slice-of-life, etc. [(somewhat) historic] + btw, i am not a history buff - so be prepared for anachronisms galore! c: which might mean plumbing and dental care centuries before it was introduced. + noire crime! old grizzled detectives and their partners in crime trying to figure out these gosh dang murders. dang killers, bringing down everyone's vibes. + a detective moving to a podunk old town, with a ~mysterious past~. however, there isn't any mysterious past, the locals just humor the guy and i have a soft spot for the detective falling for the sheriff while constantly heckling him for assistance. + western! please, just... anything western. i love cowboys, ranches, train robberies, just... i will maybe propose if you let me indulge this.  [fantasy & monsters] + i am also happy to write fantasy!  + fantasy can genuinely be blended into anything, into modern, sci-fi, post apocalyptic, etc. + i am also happy with pure, vanilla, cheesy fantasy - with kings, queens, beautiful warhorses and kingdoms by the sea, and conventionally attractive people with healthy teeth and... far less dysentery.  + i am happy to write sci-fi into fantasy - hunters/mercenaries with eyes that can hologram maps and prey, platinum horses made of gaskets and titanium joints who breathe steam, a kingdom in the sky, anything! [... guilty pleasures] + i love the cheesy and humorous things to temper the chaos. love, love, love writing that domestic, usually peaceful, sweet life of two happy people who have been together for ages or just met in their golden years after struggle and just... working for their happy endings. + though i am not usually interested in cheesy, obnoxious tropes... i have a soft spot for two grumpy, gruff guys falling for each other c: [miscellaneous] + this is hardly an exhaustive list of ideas or themes that interest me! if you have something in mind that you do not see, or anything at all, please do let me know! i love brainstorming and hearing ideas c: + note: i love writing with pretty boy archetypes!! but i am inundated with them at the moment in my current threads, bring me yer more grizzled and rough and tough boys! the two characters i have in mind are too old and boring to keep up with pretty, lithe youngins! what characters do i have in mind? plenty! craving two in particular, but i have plenty more in mind if the following two don't catch your interest: + one is svelte, aloof, posh, thoughtful. the very characterization of something like... a sleek, abyssinian cat playing the cello. intriguing, a little odd, an intimidating, coded villain - but really, just socially awkward, and a sweetheart. + the other is beefy, grumpy, and also... a goof at the core. the archetype of an ornery grandpa with the warmest heart and a distinguished grey streak in his hair. both are middle-aged men and adaptable to anything from old-fashioned fantasy, to modern, to sci-fi, to fantasy-modern hybrids, to post apocalyptic. they can be rogues, kings, survivors, lawyers, detectives, chefs, scientists, neighbors, loyal right-hands, anything from protectors and anchors to the village/office boob.  i am preferring to write the former gentleman, but i am up to write either, or someone completely different! i am also happy to elaborate upon contact if you are interested! fortunately, each one is more complex than several adjectives and a stereotypical archetype. i'd also love to hear the characters you have in mind! are you interested? well, neat-o! dm me at howdy^3#6518 on discord

#independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #messenger #submission

[fyrapartnersearch]

if the saloon doors are a-swinging...

howdy, howdy fine folks! shock and surprise, i am looking for a couple of writing partners c: i am 26, and i work fulltime as well as go to school part-time, so while i cannot promise rapidfire posts, i am becoming better about daily posts! as long as they're relatively short, sweet, and to the point. so, limits/fun factoids about my style/"tl;dr are we compatible?" first: + when reaching out to me, please tell me your limits and any plot/character ideas!  + addendum: i will not respond to messages that don't contain any information about you, your limits, and what you're looking to write or what characters you'd like to use! it doesn't need to be completely fleshed out, thanks!  + i write over discord near exclusively now! + i'm adaptable and laidback! however, i do not write pedophilia, rape/sexual assault, incest, abusive relationships, romantic large age gaps, nor master x slave. i will not write explicit content with minors either.  + quality is far more valuable than quantity regarding length. i prefer shorter nowadays! those tasty, 1-3 para potato chip rps, so to speak c: + third person only, please +i do like long-term!  + romance and platonic is welcome! as far as romance goes, all gender identities and sexual identities are a-okay. i do admittedly have a preference for m// lately, so i will likely turn some other pairings down depending on what i am currently already writing! + i prefer writing middle-aged to older farts! they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, identities, and backgrounds! i wholeheartedly welcome the same! + i love ooc chatter! i'd prefer it if you did too, but it's absolutely okay if you're just interested in writing! it is not a dealbreaker + if you're not feeling it or if life happens, that's okay. you are free to either tell me you want a change, drop altogether, or even ghost me! i will do my best to communicate, but i am sorry in advance if i disappear without a word! i try to be pretty good at letting people know if i am not feeling it or if i am going on a break c: + yes, yes, i know i write like a goob - but i promise you that my posts will be crafted with love and care what do i like to write?  [cravings] + constantly changing! i have a couple of silly nuggets rolling around. mostly fluff with sprinkled angst. + post apocalypse slice of life is also great. with plenty of humor to spare. + anything with werewolves and their human beloved very concerned about the recent furniture chewing phase, and wow is frontline expensive for a 400lb beast. + want something depressing? how about something inspired by bioshock? impossibly beautiful underwater world with genetic manipulation, unhinged leaders, and missing children. + a silly, humorous story about a familiar and their witch + something a bit more rocky, but an old fashioned western physician falling for an outlaw/ sheriff/ rancher, etc. bonus points for post-apoc and western themed. please, i got the perfect ole grizzled doc for this c: [modern] + i love modern, but i am not really looking too intensely for it right now c: i am happy writing about firefighters and lawyers, scientists, military readjusting to civilian life, boring divorced dads who find lifelong love with other divorced dads, fluffy slice-of-life, etc. + military and coming back home! + leaving the city for a life on a farm! + leaving the farm for a life in the city! "y'all mean to tell me you don't know what noodling for catfish is?"

[(somewhat) historic] + btw, i am not a history buff - so be prepared for anachronisms galore! c: which might mean plumbing and dental care centuries before it was introduced. + noire crime! old grizzled detectives and their partners in crime trying to figure out these gosh dang murders. dang killers, bringing down everyone's vibes. + a detective moving to a podunk old town, with a ~mysterious past~. however, there isn't any mysterious past, the locals just humor the guy and i have a soft spot for the detective falling for the sheriff while constantly heckling him for assistance. + western! please, just... anything western. i love cowboys, ranches, train robberies, just... i will maybe propose if you let me indulge this. 

[fantasy & monsters] + i am also happy to write fantasy!  + fantasy can genuinely be blended into anything, into modern, sci-fi, post apocalyptic, etc. + i am also happy with pure, vanilla, cheesy fantasy - with kings, queens, beautiful warhorses and kingdoms by the sea, and conventionally attractive people with healthy teeth and... far less dysentery.  + i am happy to write sci-fi into fantasy - hunters/mercenaries with eyes that can hologram maps and prey, platinum horses made of gaskets and titanium joints who breathe steam, a kingdom in the sky, anything! + something all 'bout dat circus life! star crossed lovers tropes abound! + very, very old monsters who pester that one Highly Top Secret Government Agent ™ to let them see the spectral ghost of their mortal loved one from centuries ago. the ghosts of their in-laws also tag along. + good-natured, summoned demon spouses who just wish you'd get along with your in-laws who reside in a lovely three-bedroom villa style family home in hell. + i have a love for monsters trying to figure out this whole. human. thing. attempting to fit polo shirts for their office job over their curled horns, old werewolves trimming their nosehairs and their primary physician chiding at them for eating too much red meat, etc. there are so, so many possibilities + also dragons! [post-apocalyptic] + i've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle! post-apocalyptic in the wild, wild west sounds incredibly fun! + one innocent or guilty chump gets kicked out of a survivors organization, and their closest friend follows. then they both adventure into the great unknown of a hollow world. + zombie survival, maybe? [sci-fi] + space pilots, space pirates, space colonies, space travel, spaaaaace! + i don't have anything specific! typically, my sci-fi is blended in with other themes c: if you have anything, i'd love to hear it! [... guilty pleasures] + i love the cheesy and humorous things to temper the chaos. love, love, love writing that domestic, usually peaceful, sweet life of two happy people who have been together for ages or just met in their golden years after struggle and just... working for their happy endings. + though i am not usually interested in cheesy, obnoxious tropes... i have a soft spot for two grumpy, gruff guys falling for each other c: [miscellaneous]

+ this is hardly an exhaustive list of ideas or themes that interest me! if you have something in mind that you do not see, or anything at all, please do let me know! i love brainstorming and hearing ideas c: + note: i love writing with pretty boy archetypes!! but i am inundated with them at the moment in my current threads, bring me yer more grizzled and rough and tough boys! the two characters i have in mind are too old and boring to keep up with pretty, lithe youngins! what characters do i have in mind? plenty! craving two in particular, but i have plenty more in mind if the following two don't catch your interest: + one is svelte, aloof, posh, thoughtful. the very characterization of something like... a sleek, abyssinian cat playing the cello. intriguing, a little odd, an intimidating, coded villain - but really, just socially awkward, and a sweetheart. + the other is beefy, grumpy, and also... a goof at the core. the archetype of an ornery grandpa with the warmest heart and a distinguished grey streak in his hair. both are middle-aged men and adaptable to anything from old-fashioned fantasy, to modern, to sci-fi, to fantasy-modern hybrids, to post apocalyptic. they can be rogues, kings, survivors, lawyers, detectives, chefs, scientists, neighbors, loyal right-hands, anything from protectors and anchors to the village/office boob.  i am preferring to write the former gentleman, but i am up to write either, or someone completely different! i am also happy to elaborate upon contact if you are interested! fortunately, each one is more complex than several adjectives and a stereotypical archetype. i'd also love to hear the characters you have in mind! are you interested? well, neat-o! i can be reached at discord on howdy^3#6518, i look forward to hearing from you!

#independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #messenger #submission

[fyrapartnersearch]

Pony up!

howdy, howdy fine folks! shock and surprise, i am looking for a couple of writing partners c: i am 26, she/her, cst, and i work fulltime as well as go to school part-time, so while i cannot promise rapidfire posts, i am becoming better about daily posts! as long as they're relatively short, sweet, and to the point. so, limits/fun factoids about my style/"tl;dr are we compatible?" first: + when reaching out to me, please tell me your limits and any plot/character ideas!  + addendum: i will not respond to messages that don't contain any information about you, your limits, and what you're looking to write or what characters you'd like to use! it doesn't need to be completely fleshed out, thanks!  + i'm adaptable and laidback! however, i do not write pedophilia, rape/sexual assault, incest, abusive relationships, romantic large age gaps, nor master x slave. i will not write explicit content with minors either, strongly preferred that you are 21+.  + quality is far more valuable than quantity regarding length. i prefer shorter nowadays! those tasty, 1-3 para potato chip rps, so to speak c: + third person only, please +i do like long-term!  + i admittedly have a preference for m// lately, so i will likely turn some other pairings down depending on what i am currently already writing! + i prefer writing middle-aged to older farts! they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, identities, and backgrounds! i wholeheartedly welcome the same! + i love ooc chatter! i'd prefer it if you did too, but it's absolutely okay if you're just interested in writing! it is not a dealbreaker + if you're not feeling it or if life happens, that's okay. you are free to either tell me you want a change, drop altogether, or even ghost me!  [cravings] + constantly changing! i have a couple of silly nuggets rolling around. mostly fluff with sprinkled angst. + post apocalypse slice of life is also great. with plenty of humor to spare. + something deeply silly about a witch and their familiar + anything with werewolves and their human beloved very concerned about the recent furniture chewing phase, and wow is frontline expensive for a 400lb beast. + something a bit more rocky, but an old fashioned western physician falling for an outlaw/ sheriff/ rancher, etc. bonus points for post-apoc and western themed. please, i got the perfect ole grizzled doc for this c: [modern] + i love modern, but i am not really looking too intensely for it right now c: i am happy writing about firefighters and lawyers, scientists, military readjusting to civilian life, boring divorced dads who find lifelong love with other divorced dads, fluffy slice-of-life, etc. [(somewhat) historic] + btw, i am not a history buff - so be prepared for anachronisms galore! c: which might mean plumbing and dental care centuries before it was introduced. + noire crime! old grizzled detectives and their partners in crime trying to figure out these gosh dang murders. dang killers, bringing down everyone's vibes. + a detective moving to a podunk old town, with a ~mysterious past~. however, there isn't any mysterious past, the locals just humor the guy and i have a soft spot for the detective falling for the sheriff while constantly heckling him for assistance. + western! please, just... anything western. i love cowboys, ranches, train robberies, just... i will maybe propose if you let me indulge this.  [fantasy & monsters] + i am also happy to write fantasy!  + fantasy can genuinely be blended into anything, into modern, sci-fi, post apocalyptic, etc. + i am also happy with pure, vanilla, cheesy fantasy - with kings, queens, beautiful warhorses and kingdoms by the sea, and conventionally attractive people with healthy teeth and... far less dysentery.  + i am happy to write sci-fi into fantasy - hunters/mercenaries with eyes that can hologram maps and prey, platinum horses made of gaskets and titanium joints who breathe steam, a kingdom in the sky, anything! [... guilty pleasures] + i love the cheesy and humorous things to temper the chaos. love, love, love writing that domestic, usually peaceful, sweet life of two happy people who have been together for ages or just met in their golden years after struggle and just... working for their happy endings. + though i am not usually interested in cheesy, obnoxious tropes... i have a soft spot for two grumpy, gruff guys falling for each other c: [miscellaneous] + this is hardly an exhaustive list of ideas or themes that interest me! if you have something in mind that you do not see, or anything at all, please do let me know! i love brainstorming and hearing ideas c: + note: i love writing with pretty boy archetypes!! but i am inundated with them at the moment in my current threads, bring me yer more grizzled and rough and tough boys! the two characters i have in mind are too old and boring to keep up with pretty, lithe youngins! what characters do i have in mind? plenty! craving two in particular, but i have plenty more in mind if the following two don't catch your interest: + one is svelte, aloof, posh, thoughtful. the very characterization of something like... a sleek, abyssinian cat playing the cello. intriguing, a little odd, an intimidating, coded villain - but really, just socially awkward, and a sweetheart. + the other is beefy, grumpy, and also... a goof at the core. the archetype of an ornery grandpa with the warmest heart and a distinguished grey streak in his hair. both are middle-aged men and adaptable to anything from old-fashioned fantasy, to modern, to sci-fi, to fantasy-modern hybrids, to post apocalyptic. they can be rogues, kings, survivors, lawyers, detectives, chefs, scientists, neighbors, loyal right-hands, anything from protectors and anchors to the village/office boob.  i am preferring to write the former gentleman, but i am up to write either, or someone completely different! i am also happy to elaborate upon contact if you are interested! fortunately, each one is more complex than several adjectives and a stereotypical archetype. i'd also love to hear the characters you have in mind! are you interested? well, neat-o! dm me at howdy^3#6518 on discord. hope you're all doing well in this difficult time <3

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #messenger #submission

[fyrapartnersearch]

I take off my 20 gallon hat to reveal a more modest 10 gallon hat

howdy, howdy fine folks! shock and surprise, i am looking for a couple of writing partners c: i am 26, she/her, cst, and i work fulltime as well as go to school part-time, so while i cannot promise rapidfire posts, i am becoming better about daily posts! as long as they're relatively short, sweet, and to the point. so, limits/fun factoids about my style/"tl;dr are we compatible?" first: + when reaching out to me, please tell me about yourself and what you're looking for! c: + addendum: i will not respond to messages that don't contain any information about you, your limits, and what you're looking to write or what characters you'd like to use! it doesn't need to be completely fleshed out or even lengthy, thanks!  + i'm adaptable and laidback! however, i do not write pedophilia, rape/sexual assault, incest, abusive relationships, romantic large age gaps, nor master x slave. i will not write explicit content with minors either, strongly preferred that you are 21+.  + quality is far more valuable than quantity regarding length. i prefer shorter nowadays! those tasty, 1-3 para potato chip rps, so to speak c: + third person only, please +i do like long-term!  + i admittedly have a preference for m// lately, so i will likely turn some other pairings down depending on what i am currently already writing! + i prefer writing middle-aged to older farts! they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, identities, and backgrounds! i wholeheartedly welcome the same! + i love ooc chatter! i'd prefer it if you did too, but it's absolutely okay if you're just interested in writing! it is not a dealbreaker + if you're not feeling it or if life happens, that's okay. you are free to either tell me you want a change, drop altogether, or even ghost me!  [cravings] + constantly changing! i have a couple of silly nuggets rolling around. mostly fluff with sprinkled angst. + post apocalypse slice of life is also great. with plenty of humor to spare. + something deeply silly about a witch and their familiar

+ anything with werewolves and their human beloved very concerned about the recent furniture chewing phase, and wow is frontline expensive for a 400lb beast.

+ something a bit more rocky, but an old fashioned western physician falling for an outlaw/ sheriff/ rancher, etc. bonus points for post-apoc and western themed. please, i got the perfect ole grizzled doc for this c: [modern] + i love modern, but i am not really looking too intensely for it right now c: i am happy writing about firefighters and lawyers, scientists, military readjusting to civilian life, boring divorced dads who find lifelong love with other divorced dads, fluffy slice-of-life, etc. [(somewhat) historic] + btw, i am not a history buff - so be prepared for anachronisms galore! c: which might mean plumbing and dental care centuries before it was introduced. + noire crime! old grizzled detectives and their partners in crime trying to figure out these gosh dang murders. dang killers, bringing down everyone's vibes. + a detective moving to a podunk old town, with a ~mysterious past~. however, there isn't any mysterious past, the locals just humor the guy and i have a soft spot for the detective falling for the sheriff while constantly heckling him for assistance. + western! please, just... anything western. i love cowboys, ranches, train robberies, just... i will maybe propose if you let me indulge this.  [fantasy & monsters] + i am also happy to write fantasy!  + fantasy can genuinely be blended into anything, into modern, sci-fi, post apocalyptic, etc. + i am also happy with pure, vanilla, cheesy fantasy - with kings, queens, beautiful warhorses and kingdoms by the sea, and conventionally attractive people with healthy teeth and... far less dysentery.  + i am happy to write sci-fi into fantasy - hunters/mercenaries with eyes that can hologram maps and prey, platinum horses made of gaskets and titanium joints who breathe steam, a kingdom in the sky, anything! [... guilty pleasures] + i love the cheesy and humorous things to temper the chaos. love, love, love writing that domestic, usually peaceful, sweet life of two happy people who have been together for ages or just met in their golden years after struggle and just... working for their happy endings. + though i am not usually interested in cheesy, obnoxious tropes... i have a soft spot for two grumpy, gruff guys falling for each other c: [miscellaneous] + this is hardly an exhaustive list of ideas or themes that interest me! if you have something in mind that you do not see, or anything at all, please do let me know! i love brainstorming and hearing ideas c: + note: i love writing with pretty boy archetypes!! but i am inundated with them at the moment in my current threads, bring me yer more grizzled and rough and tough boys! the two characters i have in mind are too old and boring to keep up with pretty, lithe youngins! what characters do i have in mind? plenty! craving two in particular, but i have plenty more in mind if the following two don't catch your interest: + one is svelte, aloof, posh, thoughtful. the very characterization of something like... a sleek, abyssinian cat playing the cello. intriguing, a little odd, an intimidating, coded villain - but really, just socially awkward, and a sweetheart. + the other is beefy, grumpy, and also... a goof at the core. the archetype of an ornery grandpa with the warmest heart and a distinguished grey streak in his hair. both are middle-aged men and adaptable to anything from old-fashioned fantasy, to modern, to sci-fi, to fantasy-modern hybrids, to post apocalyptic. they can be rogues, kings, survivors, lawyers, detectives, chefs, scientists, neighbors, loyal right-hands, guards, anything from protectors and anchors to the village/office boob.  i am preferring to write the former gentleman, but i am up to write either, or someone completely different! i am also happy to elaborate upon contact if you are interested! fortunately, each one is more complex than several adjectives and a stereotypical archetype. i'd also love to hear the characters you have in mind! are you interested? well, neat-o! dm me at howdy^3#6518 on discord, hope you're all staying well <3

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #messenger #submission