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Author Topic: ~Looking for Literate Wordsmith's and Male Characters~  (Read 297 times)

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Offline StringentTopic starter

~Looking for Literate Wordsmith's and Male Characters~
« on: October 22, 2019, 01:10:45 PM »


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.   Here's how this goes.

No plots.
No pairings.
Pick a picture, pick a poem, tell me what comes to mind.

But first...

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.  Feel free to explore my current stories.  Character development is also very important to me.  I'm looking for mature, layered, realistic characters.

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

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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.    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.  This will be a story centered story.


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.

Pick your poison.
Special note: I'm currently craving something medieval and witchy in honor of the season.



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Slick stone steps shone under sorrow
Pale fingers towards the sky
He watched blood trickle, thick like sweet liquor
Wondered, wondered why
But who could break a borrowed soul?
She was never more than pretty
And though, now dead, that bleeding red
His love for her was tricky


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You make it, you break it
I'll fix it, you'll hate it
Don't ask me why summer ends
Here now, gone tomorrow
Borrowed words, borrowed sorrow
Our love is too cold for this bed
You'd say that you'd love me, if my soul weren't so ugly
And I'd wonder how sure could you be?
I make it, you break it
Don't fix me, I hate it
Just put your cold arms around me


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