November's Neoteric Search [FxM | MxF | MxM]

[November Bleeds]

Introduction

Hello there! My name is November, it's nice to meet you! I'm back from a hiatus and ready to write once again. It's been quite some time since I searched for new partners, so I may be a little slow getting back into things.

I'm a novella writer who's been RPing for over 15 years. I find comfort in writing with those who are easygoing and incredibly understanding of any delays and respect my life outside of a writing space. I adore story, world building, and character development. Flaws are often a part of my character creation and as such, I enjoy when characters develop overtime and bloom (or wilt) into what fate may have in store for them. Tragic backstories are something I thrive on, as they assist my muse significantly - though that does not mean my character will be a victim. I can play anyone from the biggest sweetheart to the most wicked of villains. When it comes to writing, I typically take my time as I put so much care into each post that I make. My posts tend to focus on story first and foremost, so if you're in search of a romp, you won't find that here. I never push for replies and I'm always rather giving when it comes to my writing style.

I'd adore hearing your ideas - not just mine. Let's create an awesome story together that we can both enjoy thoroughly! I'm a big believer in finding the right mix. Sometimes, pairings or the story just won't work out, even if we're compatible! Let's find something that does.

At the moment, I am OPEN for stories.

Likely turnaround time: Looking for patient partners who are okay with sporadic turn-around times.

Please PM me if you're interested in a plot. Do not post here, thank you!

Things to know and what I'm looking for;

★ Currently searching for FxM | MxF | MxM (I adore FxF but not searching atm)

★ For MxM, I mostly write dominant/top/masculine types, but I write all others as well. I do have a slight preference for MxM pairings revolving around a stereotype of masculine x feminine, but this is not required. Versatile can be the most realistic and I write that, too.

★ All genders are accepted here

★ Communication is a lovely, positive thing! I'm also ghost friendly and break friendly.

★ Third person RP only.

★ I typically play characters between 26-35 years of age. Please have characters who are over 21.

★ We all make mistakes when writing. No pressure. No judgment.

★ Long term stories~!

★ Real life always comes first - for the both of us! If you disappear, no problem! I'll be here.

★ I have a preference for writing in threads but I may make selective exceptions from time to time with RP taking place in conversations. I don't/won't RP off site.

★ I primarily use face claims, but I love art and descriptions as well.

★ Story driven RP's are a favourite and I tend to prefer 70/30 [story/smut]. The ratio is not permanent and can be flexible. I offer a ratio as a way to express my desire for story focus first. This doesn't mean I dislike smut! I just wish for it to be reasonably and realistically placed. I will not respond to smut requests and will not indulge in playing out a smut filled fantasy. This is not what I'm here for. I'm a slow-burn writer.

★ If you prefer to write FtB or platonic stories, I am open to it! Just let me know.

★ I write roughly 1000-2500+ words or more. I'm a novella poster. I'm searching for multi-para or novella posters.

★ Colourful writing is welcome here. It is not a necessity. Write how you want to, as long as you're comfortable.

★ I won't double - But I can play multiple characters for the story.

★ I am not my character. Please do not message me with the intention of using "you and I" and instead offer "MC and YC". I also do not roleplay with people who use self-inserts, this is a hard rule.

★ Do not flirt with me. This is also a hard rule. I am happily betrothed to the lovely dark goddess Dhampyress, who also writes on here as well <3

★ If you aren't feeling the story at all, please know that it's okay! Let me know and there will never be any hard feelings.

★ I deep dive into my character's thoughts, feelings, and motives toward the opposite character/s. One of the most interesting concepts to me is to witness a characters deepest, darkest thoughts. As a romantic writer, I delve into the broad spectrum of emotion, romantic involvement, perception, reactions, heartache, the pulling of strings, and many additional concepts. I also adore a good dark extreme story. Anything from the brash and irrational world of a devastating novel, to the core fears of a frightening town of horrors -or even a heinous taste of kidnapping, serial killers, demons, and monsters.

★ If you happen to think we're compatible, send a message my way! But please note I won't reply to a simple "wanna rp?" question. If you send me a message with next to no context, or with clear indication you have not read my thread at all, I likely won't respond. This shows me that we won't be compatible from the start.

★ Writing samples can be found on my profile, or you can check here for samples in my thread. Please know there may be quite a difference between Fantasy writing versus Slice of Life. Also most of my stories are written from a male character perspective, as I haven't written female characters in quite some time (I'm rusty!). And, if you've already read this far, please place the word stars somewhere in your message.

★ My O/O's Page can be found here! It's outdated but I am updating it slowly. All my characters, stories and kinks can be found here.

All bolded/underlined pairings/letters show my desired role.
All titles and plots are subject to change.
★ ★ ★


Genesis
[A.I x Human] [FxM]
Romance | Angst | Slow Burn
A robotic engineer finds himself in an isolated new aged digital world. Consumed by his loneliness, he purchases a restricted A.I program from the black market in order to keep him company. Amidst developing a connection, MC (A.I) mentions that she would love to be human and explore the world, having the ability to live alongside them. With time, YC begins his work away on creating a robot that looks so realistic that she could easily blend in. Perhaps he develops the most human-like android yet, one that would give her the ability to use all her senses and feel what humans feel. What happens from here is completely up to discussion as I would love to collaborate on the world, the characters and anything that may happen around them. I'm all for plot twists as well.

A New World
[FxM]
Years beyond our time, MC awakens from cryogenic sleep to a time which is not her own. While she isn't the first, she is still one of many subjects. With emotions high, she is placed within the care of another, someone who will introduce her to the new world around her; YC. Adjusting to the new world around her would be exceedingly difficult. Is the world now horrifying? Has humanity created a new world order? Or, is there peace and tranquility?
 



Lost & Found
[Gang Member x Civilian] [MxM | MxF | FxM]
Romance | Gang Violence | Opposites Attract
YC comes home from a late evening out. In the alleyway next to their apartment (or beside their home), a body is laying there half-awake, and it's rather clear MC has been beaten and bruised, having recently been in a fight. YC feels the need to help them, bringing him inside for further help. MC declines any police or hospital involvement, confessing to YC that he'd be six feet under if he was found alive. YC soon finds out that MC isn't one of the good guys. In fact, he's bound within a notorious, local gang.
(Willing to switch roles for FxM)

Up for Ransom
[Kidnapper/Gang x Victim] [MxF or FxM]
Romance | Gang Violence| Opposites Attract
Within a grungy city full of delinquents, drugs, gangs and territory, the rich still prevail. The city practically split into two between wealthy and poor. After a night out on the town, an upper class woman gets kidnapped. Perhaps she took a wrong turn and witnessed something she shouldn't have, or maybe her stalkers had been watching and waiting for hours or days. Nonetheless, she is knocked out cold and taken by a local, well known gang. After confrontation, she ends up within the possession of a gang. Knowing of her prosperous background, they see only one use for her; money. They send her family a warning, money in return for the woman's safety. Though, due to the gang's infamy, it's unlikely that she'll survive. Luckily by chance, she ends up being placed under the control of their bosses right hand man who seems cruel and cold. Though strangely, in private, he seems far less cruel than the others.



The Whisper of Fire
Inspired by: Under the Oak Tree
[Knight x Princess] [MxF or FxM]
Romance | Arranged Marriage | Slow Burn | High Fantasy
Three years ago, the daughter of a duke was arranged to marry a knight she hardly knew, only to watch him leave her the following day on his way to war. Awaiting his return, her life was anything but glorious. Ever since a young age, her father treated her with cruel intent, giving all his attention to his eldest daughter whom he claimed as his favourite and brushing anything his youngest needed under the rug. Having hardly left castle grounds, she awaited for her husband to return to her. They only had one night together before he was sent off on his duties. Stories of her husband were told by whispering winds, carrying the tale of a knight turned commander by the slay of a powerful dragon. Upon his return in the middle of the night, he whisks her away to his fortress but a few days journey ahead. While their relationship starts off rocky and uncertain, they soon grow close and fall in love over time. Her journey to healing begins, as his devotion to her is sealed with a kiss. (I am willing to make any/all adjustments to this story. I can play either role!)




Roads Untraveled
Inspired By: The Road
[Survivor x Survivor] [MxF | FxM | MxM]
Tragedy | Horror | Angst | Romance
It has been years since the Apocalypse and humanity is at an all time low. It's rare to come across another human, let alone one without ill intentions. With the world in such a horrible state, food is scarce, water is limited, the sun is constantly shadowed and living animals are rare. The climate is constantly changing as dangerous forecasts continue to erupt without warning. As our characters cross paths, they likely end up untrusting of one another in fear of intentions brought on by others. Perhaps hope allows itself to linger beyond the faces in which humans hold.
 
Outbreak
[Survivor x Survivor] [MxF | FxM | MxM]
Zombie Apocalypse | Tragedy | Angst | Horror | Action | Romance
Within the blink of an eye everything around them suddenly changed. What was once a complex wonder had turned into an everlasting tragedy. The clean streets of the city now covered in the epitome of bloodshed and chaos as humans panicked and everything fell into absolute desolation. Rumor's established that the government was behind the outbreak, that they caused the destruction of their planet, but no one truly knew the answer. The virus spread like wildfire and humans who were bitten changed within mere hours into mindless creatures that knew nothing more than to feed. I lean toward a preference of the apocalypse having already started, but I'm willing to listen to any ideas and alter what I may search for.
 


Secrets
[Victim x Stalker] [FxM Only]
Angst | Deceitful Romance | Potential Horror
(If you would like to play multiple characters, I do have the idea for an officer to be involved in this story as well)
Fame has recently found its way into MC's life and she's never been happier. Actress/Influencer/Streamer of sorts, she beaks into the scene and now lives a comfortable lifestyle. What she is completely unaware of is the fact that YC has been keeping his eyes on her for quite sometime. This story can go a couple of ways. On one hand, it can go in a deceitful direction where YC enters her life in such an insignificant way at first but slowly starts pushing into her life bit by bit. Maybe they meet locally and while he's a big fan, he keeps quiet about how he knows her and manages to get a date with her by showing off some charm. On the other hand, this can go in a much darker direction, where perhaps his own sickness begins to eat away at him and he starts sending her creepy letters, maybe even meeting her in person without her realizing it, or moving in next door to her apartment. Or, a mix of the two. There are several directions the story could go in. I would like this to lean in a darker direction, even if it starts out seeming to be lighthearted and slowly descends into an incredibly dark story - or starts off rather dark. It's entirely up for discussion.

Silent Infatuation
[MxM Only]
Slow Burn | Tragedy | Angst | Slice of Life | Opposites Attract | Romance
Looking to write an emotional, tragic and heartfelt story which brings two characters close together. MC would be an empathetic, bright and uplifting younger man, leaning toward the a feminine appearance (and my only bottom role request). I'm looking for someone willing to play someone a bit older than him, scruffy, rough around the edges, perhaps a character with a darker background. Despite this, perhaps YC is going through a rough time emotionally, perhaps they lost their job, a loved one, got a divorce; anything. Perhaps MC is a neighbour, someone who notices something is off with YC and strikes up simple conversation in the hallway or elevator. MC could even be hired, someone who would be willing to listen. The two bond over time and while there may be drama amidst everything, their lives somehow come closer together and their affection begins to develop.


Plot Bunnies

▻ Supernatural [Demon x Human] FxM
⤷ A woman's life is slowly falling apart around her and things only seemingly get worse as a demon begins to creep its way from her nightmares into reality. Slow burn required as I'd like to make this into a real horror story.

▻ Fantasy [Princess x Knight] FxM
⤷ #1. Slow burn romance idea where the princess first meets her knight. The two develop a relationship slowly over time against all rule.
⤷ #2. The kingdom is under attack and as it falls, the Princess and her Knight escape together.

[November Bleeds]

Writing Samples

Dark Fantasy Demon Sample

Tension remained conspicuous, a daring action once unacquainted between the both of them. An unspoken language that lingered within the opaque atmosphere, surrounding them with an undeniable barrier of burden and uncertainty. For with one strike, Nagoth was wary of the oncoming endeavors that found him lacking within favor, likely to fall to his knees in defeat. Offensive action could potentially cause his own dismay if one fatal response was of drastic cause. Imaging himself upon the disarray of unforeseen possibilities, his mind fought against the irrationality of what bitter attempt the woman could potentially accomplish. Feisty, with a lingering perilous aura, his expectations veered from unreasonable pessimism to what truth and reality spoke. The Baffometi Clan were known well for their relentless victories, flawlessly eradicating those who stood in their path and exuding their own form of dominance to challenge in return. What pitiful creatures dared to challenge them were to be embedded within the rocks beneath such treacherous lands. They weren't foolish enough to display weakness at their forefront, nor were they naïve to the cruelest of creatures within their vicinity, for there were far more threatening beings that sought to abolish any and all demons within their realm.

There reigned a suspenseful imbalance when other towering beasts sought their way with weapons and armor within their vicinity, crossing the barriers of lands and causing destruction to the Baffometi territory. One clan in particular prevailing of substantial brute nature far mightier than the goat clan known as the Minotauri. Their unbridled vulgarity knew no bounds, dismissing each formidable creature remaining in their path and leaving nothing but bloodshed. The disruption of bodies abandoned upon the rocky stones of Wrath cradled a ritual of their own, for their massacre was a bestowal to their leaders, The Legion of Zeraze. Trepidation lingered discreetly at the Baffometi's side, for they would show no weakness to the surreal reality of Minotauri's vigor, and alas, still remained cautious of their actions.

Alike with the primitive bulls, Nagoth grew weary of the wicked demoness. Unbeknownst to him, an onslaught could occur at a moment's notice without prediction. Remaining distant from her realm, she diverged from her sisters' retaliation, for her stance remained low and uncultured. A flame kindled within him, burning from the pleasure he received, excitement dwindling within the core of his being from such a noble fight they'd soon possess. He’d see to his triumph, expecting a superior outcome within his delicious corner. But it wasn’t optimism which enabled his tenacious demeanor, only the temperament of his own animosity boiling from within. An undeniable hunger for disaster that allowed him to remain capable of ruining every potential outcome she'd attempt to retain. The succubus before him reigned of superiority in the likeness of her mother and yet, there lacked barren appeal to her appearance. Spite was written across her form, from the bridges of her piercing horns to the base of sharp claws, his expectations were beginning to lean into uncertainty. Though Nagoth remained vigilant and he saw to an opening, for the gorgeous yet deceitful creature refused to execute the first move. With little hesitation, he took stride within his action and readied his weapon, charging at the smaller demoness who was half his size. Though he lacked understanding of her response, having little to no time to calculate or prepare for such interaction. Impulsive actions were taken as that spear lingered at his side, ready to strike her down and apprehend her body only to present her sisters with his victory.

One abrupt strike would achieve his ever so distant desires. Alas, the world surrounding him reduced to a halt for the demoness overwhelmed expectation. Swift to relocate a distance away, those wings thrust her into the air at speeds unforeseen by Nagoth before. Unlike her sisters, her abilities already exceeded promise as she grew agile and nimble within the blink of crimson eyes. That shaft he held so valiantly swung, yet the edge of its piercing crown failed to meet with her flesh, cutting the most insignificant strand of her blackened hair as it whisked away from the gust of her wings. Regardless of such a distasteful miscalculation, he found solace in awaiting her next move with defensive form. The Baffometi lacked the dexterity to the degree of the feisty creature he sought to defeat. The igneous female before him lacked his strength just as he had with her agility, yet by the numbers their war would wage a hefty fight. Nagoth sought to deflect her, expecting that of fire or an irrational move of misunderstanding as he had with previous succubi as well. Yet, it was clear she was made aware of her own actions and he could feel the frustrations already boiling from within. Anger solved nothing, yet his irrefutable rage was unable to be prevented. In over his head, he knew to remain stagnant, as he sought to pay attention to her next move within only a moment's notice.

Despite her aerial shift, Nagoth could only regret his choices, as the hilt of his spear was upon its way to deflect. Yet time was not on his side. Belated within his defenses, he watched her body turn as the piercing blade of her tail traced drastically across his furred chest. Pain similar to an arrow strike, he growled fiercely from the bold move, an echo of his vociferous tone eluding within the vicinity. Furthest from a battle cry, it was deemed his frustrations were clear as the lava falls nearest them. Needless to say, he'd been used to this agony, often thriving off the addictive conflict causing him to burn even brighter than before. From such pain, he witnessed the bloodied tail before him just the same as the spurts of maroon in which she caused. A burning delicacy that only fed his fire, yet he was deemed to fall to her demise if only for a moment. As the igneous creature caused a storm of wind to cascade upon him, he was left within a vulnerable state, eyes closing temporarily to adhere to protection.

Regaining vision once more, his responses remained lethargic as he noticed her face enclose within distance only to betray that action and rush back. As Nagoth gripped his spear, he slammed the base within the ground, yet the rocks faltered, lacking the ability to maintain stability. As if almost instantly, the demoness's brash nails dug into his chest, irritating the already damaged flesh beneath his fur. What scars once remained healed were soon torn open by the sheer brutality of bladed talons. Hooking into the depths of his flesh, those teeth of his gritted, expressing another cry from utter torment. Yet, his voice hardly had time to speak as she propelled her body back with a forceful push of Nagoth's body sending him plunging to the rocks further behind him, spear still in hand. The size of his body was far greater than hers yet had been dropped effortlessly to the jagged stones that mauled his back. True anguish erupted from his spine, shaken only briefly down to his hooves, yet these frustrations continued to provide staggering vitality which rushed through him as adrenaline would. For Nagoth had not fallen without reason, as he took note of the demoness's ascend once more to the skies.

Truth be told, she could have vanished, left him there to struggle without cause, yet she remained within his presence ready to finish him off. Predictable, as any demon would rather destroy the creatures which challenged them, but it seemed that the igneous woman was assuming far less of him. Far from finished, Nagoth took clear notice of her stance from his grounded area, already gathering himself to his senses once more. Pushing to his feet, he felt the irrational sense of recognition within the air, eyes never falling from the merciless beauty in the sky. For her entirety materialized before him as he stood upon his hooves once more, using what he could of his metallic weapon to hoist him up. Despite his misery, a fight would never cease to exist until at least one of them fell. Nagoth watched in speculation as her stance wasn't deemed familiar, but the soul action of her essential being. While the masses could have been entranced by her beauty, Nagoth sought nothing more than his opportunity before him.

Beaten, bruised and bleeding, backing down was far from an option. It was the simplistic spark to her lips as an inferno of magic erupted gradually in comparison to her sisters and that which he took notice of. This deed was by far the most unexpected and yet conventional within his knowledge. Distraction had taken to the igneous demoness, for her jeweled gaze drifted from his own, inattentive to his own actions likely expecting nothing but acceptance from him. With valiant action, his stance altered as he gripped the piercing blade within his grip and braced for ascension. Just as he accomplished with the others, he felt the smuggest expression boast to his face, firmly locking onto the target above. Without further anticipation, the demon leaned back, arm following suit as he gripped the spear tightly before he pressed the entirety of his body forward and thrust the spear directly for the succubus while distractions had taken hold of her...

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Fantasy Female Character Sample

The bewitching hour was among them, skies far from gliscenting with what could have been stars - covered in their entirety by clouds of gloom. What she wouldn’t give for the soft sanctuary of sunlight to beam gently down upon such soft, pure skin. Or perhaps during these cruel days, pure hadn’t been the greatest to use toward a fallen like herself, for unblemished innocence no longer sought a suiter. Needless to say, accountability was taken into consideration for the wrongs she’d done, the guilt heavily weighing upon delicate shoulders as if she’d walked forever through a pit of inevitable pain. What pleas she made were sufficiently disregarded, a tale to the wind but never carried to the highest of heavens. Instead, the apologetic nature would fall upon deaf ears and blind eyes, finding such atonement nothing more than a breeze that would soon come to pass. Her words and her faith, it was as if it meant nothing to the place once called home and that was anything but freeing. Chained to this world, her shackles were reckless with weight for her distant kindred in the skies were far from her grasp. She felt abandoned, left entirely on her own without a hand which she often searched for. No matter the prayer, she’d been deserted, tossed aside as though the world had been crumbling down upon her. Trapped among a world so vile and left to her own vices. Seemingly, it was her burden to bear and not the lives or emotions of others. No one caused this catastrophe but Ophelia, herself. What a tangled mess she’d found herself in, having figuratively fallen into a hole she couldn’t quite escape from- without rope or anyone nearby to assist, but with good reason. A fitting conviction for a naïve girl such as she. No one could know of her nature, regardless of how badly she wished to speak it, even if it beckoned at the tip of her tongue, or attempted to breach in but a whisper from those sweet, delightful lips. Temptation was among the energy which erupted from her being and yet, she held back with every fiber of her being to protect herself and the souls in which accompanied her. Or in this particular case, only one.

The weight upon her left shoulder was growing heavier by the second, for a man far older and wiser than herself would do his greatest to hold back the pain which burdened him. Ophelia’s empathetic nature easily collided with the endangered souls of those surrounding her, whether it be a lonesome woman crying from the loss of her family, to a beggar who pleaded for food upon the street, or even that of the priest by her side. Their agony broke strings from her beating heart, an ache all too familiar to her. For Ophelia had known this suffering for longer than the humans which walked this world and truthfully, her heart bled for them. Like a sentinel from the skies above, for hundreds of eons she watched chaos, ignorance, hysteria and agony crawl from the depths of their hearts. As violence took to the streets, betrayal stabbed the oblivious and cruelty was unlike any other. Ophelia knew the hearts and souls were living in the age of anguish and yet, there was little to nothing she could do about it. While her cause was just, her actions could only prove a fragment of her compassion. Though for the better, guilt truly brought her down, for she was nothing more than a walking lie in calling herself just another one of the humans, but a faithful one at that. Yes, without a doubt her praise was within what godly graces roamed the skies, for they always had been and always would be. But her inner truth, the light which guided her was a false sense of security. If those around her knew of her nature, she would likely be hanged to an audience full of those with rocks clutched within their grimey hands, grinning as they readied themselves for their witch hunt- but it would never come. She was far too defensive and silent in the ways of her world and her veracity. Each card within her hand placed ever so delicately, assuring her own safety while she could tend to those around her. For she was here with a reason, wasn’t she? Well, perhaps she was here for more reasons than one.

Upon her descent; that fall from grace, she was cast out by the heavens above and shrouded with gloom and despair. For what wings she had were dismissed, hidden by a smidgen of what magic she had left and disguised as the cloak which she wore to blend in with common folk. Though Ophelia was no fool as her bright white colours contrasted the sluggish somber tones regular townspeople wore. Pale skin, bright blonde hair practically white in tone and all the lightest of shades, it was no wonder the eyes of villagers were upon her. Yet, they were happy in a way, their faces lighting up at the local town to see her as she walked in, calling her priestess or sister, as though she held some form of grace with just her touch alone. Her walk was praised, her hands were held softly and she was given offerings and gifts by locals, items like they likely needed more than her. They spoke of their problems, the travesties their lands faced and the creatures from beneath their lands which dug their way to the surface and harassed them without reason. Such sad tales simply tore her heart, but she had the time to spare without a place to go. They asked her where she appeared from, which village she travelled from and why she appeared here. It was their assumption and not her own, but she sensibly agreed to such things and played along with their words, appeasing their curiosities by giving information that was just the tip of the iceberg - and never the full truth which lay rest beneath the ocean's surface. For why would she speak of her lands? Why would she beckon the truth from her lips when it could potentially harm those civilians around her? Careful as she were, Ophelia was certain that at some point, someone would see right through her, whether it be that of a friend or perhaps even an enemy.

A young man eventually led her to the proper destination, a place of holy nature in which an elder priest studied. Upon meeting the generous face with the kindest of engaging eyes, she felt as if a four leaf clover sat gently upon her heart. What luck. As a graceful discussion turned into an extended conversation of life and meaning, Ophelia was given a sanctuary, a temporary home by the church which she swore oath under. Given a room, she found herself luckier than those beggars on the street whom her heart sorrowed for. It was as if cruel fate had been in store for them, but she would pray for better. As their bond grew, Ophelia chose to study beneath the priest and while knowledgeable, corrections were made in the slyest of ways to assure her truth was not given away. In her defense, she used questions as a way of deflecting false information regarding her home in hopes of the priest reading between the lines of curiosity. Views would never be forced upon him, only questions to expand what he already knew of the world itself. While there, Ophelia read an overwhelming amount of scriptures and to say the least, she’d become the priests favourite student. The two created a professional bond that would often be cherished by others. Though despite the everlasting kindness and dedication, it seemed the priest was hiding something and Ophelia was not someone who could question the motives of an elder, for their presence alone was extravagant. She allowed the feeling to pass, her intuition naturally falling on precise observation and gave what space she could.

As their land filled furthermore with common intruders by the days and nights which passed, it became an overwhelming stigma which burdened the lives of many, leaving them fearful of what lay ahead. Their safety was of the utmost importance and alas, the dangers ahead were menacing and vengeful. Like the monsters one may hold within their mind, beasts and creatures from below seemed to claw their way to the surface from their heated hell, only to invade local towns, cursing them with every toxic breath they took. What plagues they were to society, as they bombarded borders of the outskirts of town. The sickness they brought only grew like weeds plucked harshly from the grounds beneath, emerging with nothing but destruction dreadfully drifting behind them. Like many, Ophelia lived in constant fear of the antagonizing brutality which could demoralize her entirely, a concern she never held higher above this mortal realm. But while she rarely saw the beasts herself, she had commonly heard their audible maniacal tones breach the walls of her new home. And, truth be told? It was enough to instill the empirical dread boiling from within her. It was never her choice to hide from such monstrosities, but soldiers around her who swore to protect her, forcing her to find sanctuary behind sacred walls. Thus was her life. Protected by those surrounding her presence, despite her lingering desire to shelter them instead. Why must she have been looked after, while hundreds may succumb to the grotesque abominations who so brazenly defied their terrain? (More is written but offering as an example)

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Modern Male Character Sample

   Not a day had gone by without his thoughts wandering to those daunting memories. Enslaved by the sincerest sense of torture he endured at a time when he was most vulnerable, there was a desperate hatred directed toward himself for being what he deemed both pathetic and weak. Looking down on himself for the person he once was did not come close in comparison to who he was today. Drastic differences were more than apparent to those looking in, but no one would ever understand what emotional turmoil burrowed beneath the surface. What complications Tristan Banks had would remain hidden. Like a secret, he kept all knowledge to himself, sealing his lips to the public eye. While fortune and a local media fame was present, he much preferred the decency of what solitary life could offer. He could never be a man within the shadows but that hardly meant he had to allow the world to know him. It was better that way. The lonely road of looking after himself was ideal and the only path he could truly take. Others didn't matter, not when he'd been subjugated to humility, a time he would not soon return to. Humanity was just some sick joke. There had been a time he was once broken, bleeding and bruised. Remembering the iron taste within his mouth from the beatings which caused an uproar of damage he'd taken. His heart raging rapidly at the utmost pain he accepted. It was sickening to see himself so innocent and yet now, he felt more than just powerful.

Banks Enterprise was an aspiration formed into an accomplishment. A content feeling of his heart that riddled a euphoric embrace throughout his body. There was no sense of grief for his past, only anger, offering empowerment on who he was to this very day. Tristan made something of himself by building a business from the ground up and showing what goals he could truly meet. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to prove himself worthy of those who caused harm to him within his past. Those bastards that attempted to take him down, grounding him temporarily for better or worse, it was their stories in which he now dismissed. Not only had he created a significant life for himself, but those who caused him issues were within corner of the market. It was wicked of him to grin at his success and laugh at their inadequate occupations, but his sense of justice made him feel a confidence he once lacked. Didn't he deserve this? Not to mock others that were lower than him, but to bask in his own greatness?

But his creation was nothing more than a sensible cover-up for something much greater. For every front allowed a sense of lingering justice behind it, or perhaps it was his own demise ticking just the same as his relentless heart. Tristan hadn't worked from the bottom up to have just one occupation, but several beneath the surface. His abilities were far greater than just the simplicity of what logic and a high IQ could offer. Every move he made was challenged by no one else but himself and his under the radar occupations served for a greater purpose. Medical science had always been his forte and Banks Enterprise was known for the adaptive medical advancements within today's society. Their secrets were all behind closed doors, hidden away with lock and key. Their hidden gems would remain as such, far from the attention of any media platform until they were ready. After all, what was on the surface was hardly a spec of what the true reality had been, but just like the Supes of Neopolis, their true identities rest beneath what cover they gave.

All to eager for today's events, Tristan descended from his corporate floor to the lobby below. As always, his formal attire was entirely spotless. Standing tall as he adjusted the cuffs of his white button-up, leaving a few buttons worth of freedom toward the top. Lacking any form of ties or bows, he saw no reason to be of that high standard in which his father had been. If there was one thing his old man was often furious about, it was the lack of accessories he deemed appropriate. If anything, he kept an high tech watch upon his wrist. The jacket match to his semi-formal attire remained within his office, but his slacks matched of black, as did his shoes of similar appeal. Running his hand through his hair, he brushed a few stray strands away from his face, pulled back against those messy tattered locks of his. Despite the appeal, he smelled of cologne and a gentle scent of mint.

Those dark brown eyes glanced toward the large windows of the interior as he walked against marble floors. As of late, his most recent secretary had moved on, hardly giving him two weeks to find a replacement. An emergency move was necessary however and despite how most companies would act when someone moved forward, Tristan was truly happy for her. But given his lack of secretary, doing things himself kept him at work for longer hours than intended. It was just fifteen past noon and already his current appointment hadn't been called in yet and the front desk had been overbearingly busy which lead to his impatience to get the better of him. Tristan's thoughts were soon caught off guard however as he was overcome by the aura of extreme power and ability. What was this feeling? In all his life, he had never felt such strength overwhelm his entire existence. It was as though for a brief moment, not only had he staggered, but it felt as if his own breath escaped him, leaving him temporarily paralyzed. For a moment, he was drowning and the fear crossed him was that someone, anyone, had found out who he was and what he'd done.

As a child, Tristan remembered giving a name to this feeling, a sixth sense so to speak. At first, he thought it was just his assumptions of others, that it dictated who had good intentions and who represented the bad ones. Not that he was all that pure to begin with, or that he held the ability to determine, but it was a thorough assumption. Though within time, these feelings grew and it never seemed to work on just about anyone, but more so a rare percentage of individuals. Once in a blue moon, he could sense them and curiosity often had him following them ever so secretly only to have their abilities revealed. But it wasn't until he'd been much older which Tristan realized that he too, obtained an ability unlike any other. Hidden, beneath the surface, one that he'd only so rarely show.

Regaining his strength despite the interruption, the man of the hour made his way to the front desk, eyes immediately distracted by the beautiful blonde woman awaiting answers. Admittedly, she was beyond stunning. The way her golden hair appealed to him, how her clothes fit snug and danced against those curves. He was hypnotized by the elegance, reeled in by her attractive nature. How dare a goddess find her way into his building. Though amused by his own thoughts, he placed a hand against the front counter, interrupting the conversation which was created between the two girls.

“Miss Starr, corre-?” The lady began, but was ultimately interrupted by Tristan's presence to which the woman sat up all more proper, a clear shade of pink brushing her delicate cheeks. “Julia, is my twelve o'clock appointment here yet?” Though his eyes hadn't left to search the woman next to him, instead, remained upon the receptionist who seemed all too nervous. “O-oh, yes um, she's right here. My apologies for the hold up, Mr. Banks.” Gesturing to the woman before her, the receptionist continued. “This is Celeste Starr.”

“Perfect.” Of course it had been the woman he found almost lost and confused within his building. With his hand leaving the desk, those dark eyes took hold of hers. What power rest so deep from within? Whoever this woman was, Tristan was almost a little excited to find out. “It's nice to meet you, Miss Starr. My name is Tristan Banks. Welcome to Banks Enterprise.” Offering a hand for her to shake, he would cause a firm grip against her own hand, but not seeking any form of harm. Instead, his eyes were riddled with extreme curiosity, showing all forms of keen interest in her overall appeal. Though as his hand soon left hers, sliding from such soft skin that opposed his rough ones. This was the first time he'd ever met someone with cataclysmic capability. What was this feeling?

“Follow me.” Softly spoken, Tristan offered her a smirk, turning as he made his way toward the elevator and calling it down for the both of them. Those hands of his moved behind him, standing up straight to show professionalism despite his lack-there-of such details the majority of the time. If there was one thing he found conveyed awkward tension within the air, it was the lack of spoken word between acquaintances upon first meet. To avoid silence, he knew to carry the conversation to the best of his ability. The doors to the elevator opened and his hands moved to his side, gesturing for Celeste to enter first before he followed and pressed his floor button. “I have to say, Miss Starr, that I was incredibly impressed with your resume. I'll admit, there aren't many who have applied with your expertise.”

Arriving on Tristan's floor, he left the elevator first, walking down the hall through glass-windows up. Meeting rooms were of high-end appeal, as were the offices in which his employees worked, their doors open as they typed away and signed off on papers. But as they came to the end of the hallway, it was clear that Tristan's office was right there before them. An empty, yet clean desk for his open secretary position and his room behind it. As he opened the wooden door, his hand offered her to enter, as he followed up behind her, closing it gently. Making his way to his desk, he sat down behind it, eyeing her seat before she sat down. “Please, take a seat.” Allowing a pause before he continued, he offered her a smile. “So, Miss Starr. Perhaps you could start by telling me why you applied for this position?”

★

Modern Male Character Sample

Mark Gall

Trust lingered beyond that of a shaven string, weak and unable to bear the weight of the world. Mark could hardly find trust within anyone, for those who once walked into his life vanished without a trace. Whether he drove them away or they simply cared so little for him, he felt an unwavering significance burrow itself incredibly deeply within his chest, hidden away for not even the most benevolent to find. Though perhaps this was his fate, to live a lonely life without a soul in the world seemingly connected to him. Maybe it was better that way, to stray away from those with compassionate hearts. Attachments were meant for those who deserved them and needless to say, he lacked the ability to maintain relationships whether they were friendly or romantic. For even his parents lacked empathy, hardly checking up on their own son, but perhaps that was preferable, especially from where he stood as their failed heir to the Gall name. There were no siblings within the picture and all that pressure allowed Mark to bear the burden of his last name. Although, that didn’t mean his life lacked benefits given his inheritance that offered comfort for the rest of his life.

There was a substantial sense of relief that Shiloh didn’t recognize him, knowing that if the younger man was aware of his origin, this conversation likely wouldn’t be happening. There was the possibility of him knowing Mark’s name perhaps in passing, or knowing the Gall name as significant to locals. Yet, he refrained from such formalities, straying from the sick sense of his battered last name with its corrupt infamy. That wasn’t to say he cared for his own personal reputation, but more so what his surname allowed him to relive repressed memories. The abundance of animosity he felt for his family was beyond callous comprehension. Mark held high hopes that Shiloh wouldn’t peer into his business more than he needed to, considering the agonizing depths of aggravating reflection. If anything, he’d come forward one day with a thorough explanation, or perhaps just avoid it altogether entirely.

Shiloh’s presence was a satisfying distraction from the mundane life he lived, finding a sense of inspiration within his generic lifestyle. A younger version of himself found solace within his own lawless actions, falling into a fiendish pit of despair and fury. There was something thrilling about chaos which threw him into obsession, inciting antagonistic action upon others. Whether it was the drama he caused meaningless acquaintances or the blackmail he constructed behind closed doors, it hardly mattered. Mark once thrived upon the insecurities of others, often enjoying the terror he bombarded into their everyday lives. While this differed from his current reality, that didn’t mean he didn’t have a sick sense of thrill which embellished from within watching others suffer. Perhaps it took away from the pain he endured in his younger years, but as it stood, at least for now, Mark felt a sense of hollowness flaring from inside of him. This was the main reason that Shiloh was chosen, having been watched from afar until Mark finally broke and hired him for the evening. Though his intentions on keeping Shiloh were far longer than that - extending much further than the week he explained so thoroughly. But the question was whether or not he would stay.

There’d been a brief moment that lingered, allowing Shiloh’s expression to grow surprised and within that momentarily glance, Mark caught the sense of astonishment. Though it arrived as quickly as it left and of course, the words to follow were of pure uncertainty. Shiloh seemed to hit the nail on the head however, asking if Mark wished to keep him. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew he did, but Shiloh still had so much to prove to him in the meantime. There was no saying that this guy wouldn’t just use him and then run away, in the same manner Mark had done to an unimaginable amount of people. So within reason, he didn’t respond to the escort's question and instead allowed the conversation to continue. The mention of buying clothes for the smaller man seemed to trigger a response that seemingly rolled off the tongue, but he was more wrong than he knew. “Quite the opposite, actually.” His deep tone beckoned as he pushed the newspaper to the side and his attention fell upon Shiloh’s eyes. “I prefer them on. In fact, I think they’re more appealing. I didn’t hire you for just one reason.”

So far, there had been a few things he knew about Shiloh. For one, the man was homeless, with nowhere to go and without someone watching over him. A daunting feeling crept up Mark’s spine, one that allowed him to feel a sense of control already over Shiloh. Another factor being that there was never a time for his mind to rest, offering significance within undiagnosed possibilities, or perhaps a sense of ingrained anxiety. The last thing however was that he always seemed to have his work persona up and running, meaning he was likely on guard all the time or quite the opposite; that he didn’t care at all for his own wellbeing and this was just how the world shaped him. Uncertain on which he would have preferred, it didn’t really matter at the end of the day. Either the boy was completely himself or he put on a face for the world before him. There was a profound sense of sadness which lingered around Shiloh, one that Mark couldn’t help but feel connected to. Perhaps this particular sentiment was the reason their lives had only recently collided.

Mark felt his expression grow somber, or perhaps he just seemed grim in correlation to his sense of self. He couldn’t recall a time where he felt someone speak for him, as Shiloh’s words practically echoed throughout his mind. No, it never was about him, now was it? Of course not. Neither of them controlled much within their lives as their entirety was paved before them. Coming from different walks of life and yet, falling ever so similarly upon a path of obscurity. Surely, Shiloh’s occupation must have driven him into a state of uncertainty or possibly lingered upon perilous lines. But those words that he spoke stung Mark to the very core of his being - and truth be told, he didn’t know how to respond. There was a sense of discomfort lingering within him, eyes glancing away from Shiloh as if to process what he said. There was no one to report to, no one wondering where he was, no one curious enough to pester him and yet, Mark related to that very factor. The two far too much alike in a way that felt compelling and symbolic.

For a brief moment, Mark fell silent. Dark hues lingering at nothing of interest. Yet, as his attention fell back to Shiloh, he stared the younger man in the eyes from across the table wondering just how coincidental their encounter had been. “But, it is about you, isn’t it?” Questioning through that quiet tone of his, he was far from uplifting as he leaned his weight upon those crossed arms. “That’s exactly why you’re here. You can sit there and think that maybe I’m the selfish one here, sure. But this isn’t just about me. The reason you’re here is because it is about you. I chose you for a reason.” Perhaps it was some pathetic form of a pick-me-up, or maybe he just needed to escape from his debilitating thoughts which would soon drown him if he wasn’t careful. Nonetheless, Mark felt obligated to speak on those words, feeling a sense of awkward embarrassment soar through him, an emotion unfamiliar to him. “Now, tell me, Shiloh. Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to do, that you never had the chance to before?”

[November Bleeds]

[Reserved]