A Cruel Winter~Seeking Literacy and a Male character

[Stringent]

They say to fear of wanting
Of hollow things unseen
A fire in your belly
They say dare not to dream
For ice it stings like fire
When touched to tender flesh
If she does not consume you
You'll burn just like the rest
They say look not with wanting
There's sin behind the eyes
But who could resist taunting
She tells such pretty lies

Hello there!  I'm Stringent, and I'm a lover of stories.  I'm looking for an exceptional partner, and I'm hoping that's you.  I love character driven plots.  The time and place are not nearly as important as the people, and that's what I want to explore through our writing.  Life, love, relationships, and of course sex.

All plots are listed in post form below, but please read what I'm looking for.


Who I'm looking for

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I'll be honest, I'm looking for very literate writers.  I'm pretty selective with my partners, in that I know exactly who I'm looking for.  I have a passion for sentence structure, which means that run on sentences can ruin a post for me.  I don't mind the occasional typo, but I am looking for someone who can craft beautifully written posts.  I really am looking for novel quality writing.  I know I'm picky, please don't take any offense to it.  I've included two samples of my own writing below.  Please note that they're very short in comparison to what I might write in a normal post.  Of course, posts vary depending on the scene, but I've written upwards of 10,000 words for intros.  If this seems daunting, we might not be the best fit.

I'm looking for someone who can match the quality of these samples.

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The world was frozen; silent at last in the amber glow of morning. She was certain time itself had paused in the midst of the sunrise, as though it had looked down upon the earth and realized it should have turned back. The red in the sky could not compete with the red of the earth, a shocking shade of scarlet that could only be achieved in death. Death stained the grass, the dirt, the small patches of heather that had been purple the evening prior. She had lost battles before, but the scene that stretched before her did not speak of defeat in war.

This was slaughter.

The pounding of her heart synchronized with the thud of her boots as she climbed the hill, stepping around the bodies of the fallen. Every footfall seemed heavier than the last, building with the crushing weight in her chest, as her eyes scanned the faces of those who had been lost in the chaos. They were fixed in agony and fear, their eyes empty, as though they had seen there was nothing to fight for. As though they had seen the end of the world...And truly, it was the end.

Her foot dragged as she finally reached the top, and the air fled her lungs in a gasp that broke the silence. Breathless, she looked over the valley in which they come to their ruin. The scarlet stain of bodies stretched for miles, massacred like pieces of meat that had been thrown to the hounds. Without the chance to age and brown, the gore was still shining like the glint of armor in that bloody sunrise. This dawn, this new day, would be the end of her. Her kingdom had been brought to its knees; and then massacred, because bowing was no longer enough.


She might have fallen herself, had a pair of strong hands not reached out to grip the armor at her waist. Every nerve in her body sang with alarm as those fingers found the place below her ribs, and squeezed with a force that was inhuman. The sharp sound of the metal met her ears as her armor bent inwards, pressing against her skin with threatening force. He was reminding her, in no uncertain terms, that he had every right to crush her. It would be a cruel death; perhaps a fitting one, after what she'd done to him. When she gave no acknowledgement of his presence he pulled her back a step, forcing her against his chest in a move that was all too familiar. There was no tenderness now, but a reminder of the vow she had broken to him.

"I warned you."

"I had to try."

The grip at her waist tightened, causing a sharp pain to shoot through the lowest of her ribs. She would not give him the satisfaction of cringing; she would not flinch in the face of death. The cost of her betrayal had always been clear, but she had not expected that it would have no purpose. She had believed, with every fiber of her being, that this was a battle she could win. The sea of death before them was nothing but a reminder of how wrong she'd been. Her eyes burned with angry tears as he leaned forward, pressing his jaw against the curve of her cheek.

"I told you that you would fail."

"I couldn't have lived with myself..."

"How convenient, that you won't have to."

When she closed her eyes against sun, all she could see was red.

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Falling was the closest she’d ever come to flying. 

She knew it every time she pushed off the edge of a building, free falling through space and time until her foot touched the next rooftop.  Sometimes the impact was too great, forcing her to tuck and roll before she got another running start.  Twice she missed the edge, catching herself with her hands, but just barely.  There was always that terrifying, exhilarating, breath catching moment of uncertainty.

After all, death was the closest she’d ever come to living.

The sunrise stained the horizon, painting the dark stone of the buildings around her a bloody sort of red.  She was often restless the night after a kill, for reasons she’d never been able to pinpoint.  All of the plotting and planning ended so quickly, as a pulse died out and a chest ceased to rise and fall.  Last night had been especially messy, buch to her dismay.  She’d planned a bullet, but the security at the gala meant that the old man had met his end with a phone charger wrapped tightly around his neck.  Some might have said she was a monster, but Lauren wasn’t made of ice.  She didn’t want to feel him jerk against her as he died, but there had been no other option.  His family would wake in mourning, and she would find fifty thousand dollars wired into her account. 

It was impersonal, but something about it stung.  She preferred guns, particularly rifles, from a great distance.  Distance had become her friend, saving her from more of these sleepless nights.  Forty six hours had passed from the time she’d woken, but her muscles still screamed for exercise.  Nothing felt better than running from rooftop to rooftop, soaring over the world as the sun stained the horizon.  Moving was the only thing that numbed her.  Well; moving, and Adam.

He was waiting for her halfway through her usual course, holding two steaming cups of coffee.  His dark jeans clung to narrow hips, and a work denim jacket covered the broad width of his shoulders.  In that loose shirt he didn’t look so muscular, the billowing cotton hiding the rigid lines of his abdomen.  His body was a weapon in itself, but it was holstered now, allowing that crooked smirk to take center stage.  The last jump was met with poor footing, so she rolled, stumbling to a stop with a new scrape on her elbow. 

“Poor form.”  He commented, as she dusted the dirt from her arms. 
“You would know.”
“What’s the matter?  Did I make you nervous?”
“Of course.”

Their banter had been easy from the beginning.  She’d never dared to become involved with another professional, but Lauren had found solace in Adam.  He understood the dreams that made her toss and turn, and why she she was always disappearing for days on end.  He’d taught her how to disassemble her rifle in half the time, and she’d introduced him to the rooftop running she’d been practicing moments before.  All tricks for running, for escaping, for disappearing.  He’d been a willing distraction for nearly six months.  Whenever they were in the same city he would find her, and she was helpless to resist the temptation.  There had been a time where she’d once had ‘rules’ and ‘standards’ and ‘boundaries’.  They’d turned to smoke when she felt the fire of his lips on her throat, and she’d been careless ever since.

The coffee was mixed with cream, no sugar, exactly the way she liked it.  It wasn’t quite as good as a cold drink of water, but it soothed her dry throat regardless.  He was watching her with an animalistic glint in his eyes, intent, as though he might strike at any moment.  Lauren smirked, shifting from foot to foot as they silence lingered between them. 


“How’d last night go?”
“A little messy.”
“Did you…”
“I always finish.”
“Mm.  Good.”
“What about you?”
“Still on surveillance.  I got another assignment, this morning.”
“Oh?  What for?”
“A hit.”  He didn’t look at her as he said it, taking a sip of his own coffee.  “It’s local, but I’m afraid it’s going to be messy.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“You’ll do it.  You’ll be fine.”

He nodded again, taking another slow sip.  She watched his lips close around the edge of the cup, suddenly certain what the look in his eyes was.  But as she stepped forward, he stepped back, like a dangerous dance.  Her stomach tied in knots, and a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips.  He didn’t smile, but he didn’t have to.  She knew the game well enough, and she was more than willing to play.  Another step forward, another step back, but she was gaining ground. 

“Aren’t you going to ask?” her voice was low and rough, despite the hot drink.
“Ask what?”
“Ask me where I’m going next.”  Berlin, it was Berlin.
“Why would I do that?”

Another step, another step, he was coming to the edge of the roof. 

“So you can follow me.”
“How do you know I want to?”

Lauren drained her cup, tossing it over the edge of the roof and into oblivion.  He mirrored her motion, never taking his eyes from her as he came to the edge of the roof.  An adjacent building was close enough, and a well aimed leap left him perched on the edge.  It was a trick she’d taught him, and some sort of pride swelled up inside of her. 

“You always do.”

She climbed to the corner of her own building.  One side of the world was brilliant orange, while the other still hung in darkness.  The moon was holding onto its spot in the sky, clinging to the remnants of night that cast shadows over the sprawling city. 

“I have to stay.”
“Mmhm.”
“And you have to go.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes were too busy with his lips to notice the glint in his eyes.  “And I’ll find you, when I get there.” he promised.  Something stirred in the pit of her stomach, and she leaned across the edge, dangerously close to falling. He caught her forearms, gripping her wrists tightly as his mouth came down on hers.  She was impatient, rough, but his lips were slow and soothing.  He met her fire with lapping waves, taking her from white heat to a slow smolder. 

Why did it taste like a goodbye?

He kissed her once, twice, softly, gentle, sucking in a shallow breath. 

“I’ll see you then.”

How had she missed it?  There was little time to wonder, but she saw it when she opened her eyes into his.  The firm grip on her forearms pushed, not back towards the roof, but sideways...towards the ground.  A sharp gasp came as she lost her footing, plummeting falling through the air to find that nothing would catch her.  Everything was clear for a moment, from the bright light of dawn, to the wisps of air that flew around her face.  But clearest of all was his expression, laced with pain and regret.  He didn’t look away.  He didn’t close his eyes, or turn, or cringe as she fell.  He stayed there with her, falling, until the back of her head met the concrete.   

 

I am looking for someone to play a male character, opposite a female character of my own. 

I am looking for someone who crafts incredible characters.  I want depth, development, flaws, quirks, and realism.  In other words, I'm looking to play people, not archetypes.  Cliche's can be fun, but I need characters to have layers.

I am looking for someone who is excited to be invested in the creation of our story, and active in moving the plot along.  I'm not here to drag your lifeless body through a roleplay.  I want to create plots together, not spew ideas until you find one that suits you.  Half the fun is creating something that suits both your tastes.

I prefer two strong characters over a dom/sub any day.  I love characters who have different agendas, interests, and wants.  I love conflict. 

What's important to me

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Communication is key.  You will not offend me, so please be honest about your likes and dislikes.  If the story has gone off course and you want to backtrack, tell me.  If your muse is dead, tell me.  If you're not actually going to be online when you said, tell me.  If you hate my character, if you need a nap, if you want to take a week to rest, just let me know. I will do the same.

Mature content will be a part of our story.  For more information, see below.

I love darker themes, so I'm not interested in writing a 'happy go lucky' slice of life.  While I love medieval fantasy, Victorian era, and sci fi, my interest in the setting depends on the actual plot.

I want to write something full of feeling.  I want that spark of inspiration that keeps you up at night, waking up too early to see if you have a reply.

I want you to love what we're writing as much as I do.  Mutual interest is so important, especially for the longevity of a roleplay.

 

Mature Content

Now, onto the good stuff.  I have no limits on gore, language, violence, or sexual content.  In other words, I have no limit of how graphic any of these concepts can get.  However, I do have some distinct likes and dislikes regarding sexual content.  Please note: Sexual content will not be the main focus in the story.  It might be frequent, if the story demands it, but I am not looking to write a purely smutty roleplay.  Intimacy between characters is something I consider a character interaction, and it should serve a purpose and move the plot along.

I will not partake in

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Anything with incest.
Anything with furry implications.
Any potty play.
Again, anything with a tail.  No.
Anything with a whiny, submissive male.

Things I might partake in. *=more willing

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Non con/given the right plot and scenario.
Bondage*
Anal*
Age gap*

Things I like

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Vaginal
Oral
Virginity loss
Slow sex
Rough sex
Impregnation
Teasing
Toys
Dominant Males
Realism: I prefer that any sexual encounters are less pornographic, and more realistic.  Awkward moments, anatomically correct descriptions, ect.

If you've made it this far, here are some plot candies that I love. ** is what I'm craving now.

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Violence
The Fae
Abduction
Serial Killers
Pregnancy**
Captives
Arranged Marriages**
Love/Hate**
Age gaps
Ghosts
Magic
Prophecies
Traumatic accidents**
Near death experiences**
Celebrities
Historical
Mermaids
Dragons
Mysteries
Thrillers
Romance
Childhood friends reunited
War
Twisted Fairy Tales
Executions
Escorts

If you are interested, please send me a pm with a writing sample.  A writing sample is the best representation of your writing, free from grammatical errors.  it should be third person, past tense, and from a male perspective.  Please do not send me erotic scenes as writing samples.  If my tastes don’t quite suite yours, or you’ve got an idea you’re not sure I will like, please share anyways.  I like trying new things.

[Stringent]

I'm currently interested in taking on one partner for an arranged marriage plot.  I would prefer the characters to be of conflicting interest, so that we can add some tension and have fun with it.  I recently had the pleasure of touring the Biltmore, and I would love to include it in the story.  Perhaps it's the home of a wealthy bachelor, nestled in the hills at a time when America is young? 

[Heedlessx]

Hello.
I like the co-operative story telling that you are going for, much more fun than straight RP where you basically speak with a massively delayed response.

I am looking for someone who will write lengthy paragraphs/chapter and attempt to create a world for our characters to be apart of, not just interact with.

I have a literature degree as well as a history degree so hopefully that should satisfy your 'literate' criteria.

I like the possibilities of an arranged marriage combined with a historical setting.  My preference would be Medieval or Elizabethan. I am also open to fantasy element crossover, possibly magical realism in our style.

I play dominant male characters and also have a tendency towards the darker side sexual exploits in my writing and, like yourself, require the acts to be part of the story.  Otherwise what's the point in the effort.

Here is an example of my writing, hope you enjoy.

My monastery sits just inside the eastern edge of a great forest.  Its grey stone perimeter wall moves away from the large arched entrance way and bites into the surrounding woodland encircling the buildings, paddocks and beehives that dot the closed off landscape.  A paved lane extends from the entrance to a muddy, rutted roadway that runs between the towns of Bari and Taranto.  In the summer months the paved lane is overhung by green leaves and strong boughs protecting the traveller from a strong sun. But a spiteful winter had settled that month and the trees seemed like the creeping hands of some evil demon that wanted to drag you into the darkness of the wood and devour you.  The small insular world within the walls was different in the cold winter months as well.  Nobody stood in the paddocks and tended the ground with a loving affection.  No noise came from the hives as its workers went about their business among now forgotten flowers.  In the winter months my monastery was a wretched place.  Its buildings sat there damp and sullen, much like how I sat within it.

[Stringent]

This concept is inspired by an awful Hallmark movie.  When a young couple begins their journey along the Oregon trail, they face the harsh reality that they will never see their families again.  Months of toil and hardship should lead to a new life, with space to grow and abundant resources.  Instead, they find only tragedy.  A dangerous river crossing is the end of their journey together, when the young man is thrown from the wagon, drowning in the icy water.  They are the last train of the season, and his young bride is faced with the harsh reality that she will not survive the Winter alone.  A kind family takes her as far as the nearest town, where she meets with the Pastor in hopes of securing a position as a school teacher.  He suggests another arrangement.  The town Sheriff has long been in need of a wife, and with Winter closing in around them, it makes sense that the two should make a match.  But she is still grieving from the loss of her husband, and he is haunted by the horrors of the Civil war that divided his own family.   

[Stringent]

That's right, I'm jumping on the bandwagon.  Anyone else obsessed with Hill house?  I'm a fan of the original novel as well, and would love to find some type of separate story inspired by the general theme.  Perhaps two people had a childhood encounter at the home, and return later together to explore?  Would love a sort of creepy/romance/supernatural vibe on this one. 

[Stringent]

Hades and Persephone anyone? 

I have a number of different ideas/scenarios for this.  I would really like it to be dark, and twisted. 

[Stringent]

Below are pictures that have plots, or inspiration for plots.  Pick one, and tell me what comes to mind.

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