❝Are you hitting on me, Doctor?❞ — Jodie Foster as Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs (1991) // One of my favourite 90s films ever made.

a pet project writer/roleplayer site.
penned entirely by pax/paramoral.
established june 2025.

previously known as:
paramour, phantasmagoria, psychomachy, addiecanary, darksidedocs, lamentforjuliet, vladrian, & wild hunt.

click on the butterfly to go back.
hover to focus on a phantasmal object.

❝doctor, our insanity is not that we see people who aren't there; it's that we ignore the ones who are.❞ — A. Gibson, When the Bough Breaks

❝I'm not a germaphobe?!❞ — Jocelin Donahue as Samantha Hughes in The House of the Devil (2009) // My Halloween comfort movie!

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ooc.

Hiya there! Great to meet you. I'm Pax, 21, Filipino, queer female (she/they), located AWST and I've been writing for way longer than I ever thought I would. I've about a decade year of experience under my belt, and cut my teeth in this roleplaying hobby on instant chat apps and forums before moving to 1x1s. My past aliases may crop up from time to time but these are old masks I have done away with, and for those who know... ya know. 💜 I have moved on from the negative thought patterns and emotional baggage that once sapped the better part of me. Now you can call me a faceless kuwentista in the age of digital nudity. ✨I work a relatively monotonous job on top of a good amount of taking care of my family, and live a pretty high-stress, active life with all my neuroses. I am currently diagnosed with MDD, OCD, ADHD, Social Anxiety Disorder and recovering from selective mutism, BPD, and CTPSD. That's just how the life is for me right now. This does mean I can go quiet for long periods at a time. And I trust that you reading this is you acknowledging that you are okay with this coming as part of the territory, as a potential writing partner and/or online friend. Because every day is a battle, yet writing and living all these lives within a safety bubble keeps my world turning! You best believe it. Roleplaying with all its flaws and marvels is one of my downtime hobbies and I absolutely adore it.I'm also the type to spoil our storylines with aesthetics, visuals and music inspo which know no ends. It does mean I've become a lot more picky with whom I write, so please understand that A) I appreciate those who know how hectic life can be and won't ever rush me for a reply, B) I adore those who do not solely keep me for creative writing purposes, I will be that much more engaged to write with you, and C) I keep those who stay on for writing of a lifetime, not just a seasonal fix. Really grateful to say I already have a few long-lived partners I envision writing with even on my deathbed, so I find comfort in the fact that rare ones have to be sifted out from the rest.I talk in walls and tangents a lot because I am somehow physically more exhausted by rapid fire texts, but I will mirror your text talk. Just know my phone will be on silent, and it's nothing against you, if only for my sanity. 😂 Also very much a cinema and book lover. Can't recall every single one of them, but they've made me. Probably going to get a tattoo that of the old adage, "Ars longa, vita brevis" (and mess it up and regret it for life due to my fallible, human brain by adding an e in the wrong place)

activity.

As a Gen Z I am practically (not) married (just feral) to my gadgets, (even though I don't really relate to others my age that often) but whilst I am chronically online it does not mean I am available all the time. Look to me as The Scatterbrained One, who could be shitposting one moment and watching adorable possum videos the next (FYI they're all adorable) and an Online/Idle status on Discord may simply mean I'm up for shooting the shit OOC and not diligently working our storylines. This is a hobby after all. We are all humans, not machines so don't give me the crowd caffeine.I am pretty abysmal with letting my partners know about when my next post is coming in. That's the harsh truth. It really is just an exercise in the discipline I can muster with regards to writing in general. It may get better over time as life is a bit hectic for me right now with my diploma and mental health recovery journey, and ADULTING is still new to me... so please be kind! If you are okay with this fluctuating frequency, all's well that ends well.

writing technicalities.

All my writings are hosted on Discord servers that have a basic template for you to toy around with. Because we are creatures of habit, at least I am, and that is the place I associate with roleplaying/writing/gaming ao you can reach me there the quickest. You are automatically given admin rights because mi casa, su casa, just as the NPCs I create in our stories are yours to use. I use Tupperbox extensively for my muses and enjoy banter, text and meme-y channels as well. P.S. Haven't quite experimented with Tumblr accounts because it seems too time-consuming of an endeavour for me currently, but I could certainly be convinced in the near future!

characters, mains & exclusives.

I will be providing an ever-changing list of my beloved muses, all females, males, and non-binaries alike. They can be viewed under section characters. Exclusives mean they were created from scratch for the particular (beloved) roleplay with my writing partner, and Mains hint they are created for the purpose of suiting many plotlines. Both means I use them a lot. More asterisks mean I have high muse writing them. Anyone can be used however, once you've indicated interest in any of them to me.You can access an exhaustive list of my original characters via this link, tba. By the way I am operating against my logic of keeping it totally for the eyes of current partners, and making them accessible for everyone because I'm an open book and I realised it's plenty more freeing this way. Those who are on the same wavelength, of a similar creative calibre and maturity to not blatantly rip off someone else's character will be more concerned about the potential, the creation. So once the section is done, I'm throwing that net out there and seeing what it catches.By the way I try and not do character biographies or backstories anymore besides simple drafting. Certainly dolled up a LOT of Google Docs before but I just don't have that free time anymore! This is solely lying on the fact that my character exists in the scene, in the world so presently, with everything boiling down to intention and obstacle. I like getting to know them as the story goes along. It leads to many a twists and turns no one foresees, and the silhouette and substance of their person always changes that they on new forms.

verses & writing samples.

Same goes for my writing samples. They will comprise of both my own writing and collaborative writing with other partners whose credit and permission will be requested before it's posted.

i love these peeps so much they deserve a whole section!!!

Also just want to share my LOVE OUT LOUD for a couple of friends on here. They are the following pets (jk lol they're amazing human beings who just happened to become my friends. Because out of all the chi-chi, know-it-all possums in the world, they got stuck with me—they know who they are according to the nicknames I've bestowed upon them on knighthood day): Emmy Beanie, Bogan Kiki, Midge Widgey, Geitee Alice, Zain Brain, Celestial Zeal, The Thea, Nater Tots, Farhanite, Christo Wetman, and Apateu. 💜💜💜

writer dossier & requirements.

You can absolutely send me a DM through Discord to chat, I come with some decent humour and brownies, but friend requests are NOT accepted... right away. I do welcome overtures of friendships that form with this hobby, but only once we've conversed for a bit more than a few days would I consider adding anyone to my list. I also only roleplay with people who are 18+. Please do not have the intention of roleplaying with me if you are younger than 18. Quite regularly do I incorporate an array of darker/mature themes in all my stories that I am not comfortable writing with a minor. Capiche?I am a lazy literate/novella writer who errs on the side of verisimilitude. Now, what does that mean? A self-sustaining world that is internally constant. Supernatural, fantasy, modern, slice of life, sci-fi, horror, and all else—I write on the basis of it adhering to its own surrealism and rules, something that buys you into the characters and settings. No matter how high the jeopardy, I assure you I can always make it work. So long as you let me take my time with investing in it as well. I am most engaged when writing long responses in the 500 - 2,000 word range, but do try to match your response length. In general though expect at least two decent paragraphs from me. Please please PLEASE respond with creative, literate and thoughtful writing as I would rather wait for a detailed and thought-out response than receive a rushed, badly-written one. I'm fatally allergic to one-liners.I roleplay in third person and past tense only. With the exemptions of letters and such, I am abso-freaking-lutely not comfortable if you assumed your character's PLACE in writing. They have to be in their own heads, and it's our responsibility as writers to make it seem we are assuming ourselves in their shoes. We shed their skin afterwards, not cling to it. With that said, remember that whilst I may enjoy the exhilarating fast-paced action, violence, sex, carnage and ugliness that happen in stories, I do not necessarily endorse them. Because fiction is fiction and this is a medium for us to explore those psychological structures. As a general rule of thumb we should always separate mun and muse. Yes, I'm aware this is a common sense thing some people royally screw up anyway.

NSFW is welcome in my house, as long as it is part of the plot and not the sole focus. My golden plot to smut ratio is 60:40. BUT I would like ample build-up to any NSFW scenes and thorough discussion with you on your expectations writing any of the scenes beforehand. Of course there's also kinks and limits which we preface with every roleplay partner and I go through mine in the very next section. With regards to dark/mature themes, I have become generally okay with anything but if I feel uncomfortable, I will tell you. I do provide trigger warnings for sensitive topics. Please read the section on my NSFW/Smut Writing guidelines.Also important point, I do not tolerate anyone who brings drama or toxicity in my circle! This has to be said. Leave all-a-that by the door or don't come in at all. It's easy to forget we are all people with a life, feelings and past experiences. BUT LITERALLY REMEMBER IT! Because I would absolutely, positively, one HONDO percent go unperceived than to be met with a bully's bullshit excuse for the rules they choose to live by. I won't play your game and neither should anyone else. I also do not limit myself to interacting with just "aesthetic accounts/blogs" (which is a poor definition of their standards that someone once gave me) because I go beyond the cover and value deep conversations with the time I have on here.My roleplay partners are great at letting me know if they'll be away or need a break; in fact I do most of the vanishing. Sorry by the way, but absence makes the heart grow fonder? nudge nudge poke poke Alas this segues into ghosting/vanishing. Please tell me if you are bored or uninspired by our roleplay. I am more than happy to discuss any changes or begin a different roleplay! Vanishing without a trace will result in unadding and our server being placed on an archived countdown for a set amount of days before deletion. I do not mind at all waiting for responses, but do let me know if you are planning on taking a break from writing for an extended period of time. 🫶 I want to make it a softer world for you.

plotting & musing.

Teamwork and communication are the bones of any collaborative writing project. Creativity and strong interpretation, the lifeblood. Now I could write by myself if I wanted to, I had for years but that's become so boring when I can turn on my brain with someone else's to create an even richer world. I just love the idea and act of writing at each other. Especially with someone you mesh with most creatively, one who is not afraid to use serious elbow grease and hours of musing to escape into this world with you. It's almost like playing barbies with your best friend. You look forward to each meeting at the lines. World's your oyster, history bends to your rules, and you are finally the narrators conditioning the flow and emotion of lives. We look to escape into the story to be terrified by a beautiful retelling of what anything could be. The audience is just collateral damage, bravely so. Use your voice to lend one to a story in waiting, in the dark, a soul whose purpose and memory longs for reclamation.I also assure you originality is not something to worry over in terms of plot, when we have books within us and everywhere else waiting to be used and referenced. Let's you and me use that to our advantage! As long as your character is strong and the script of our story is tight, I will obsess over every detail and imbue my own ideas to elevate yours. I just need me some quid pro quo, bud! My musing happens all the time and nearly on the laptop or on paper, so if you think I'm never singing it silently through my head, you're wrong! A plot's threads has either been ran through music, story boards or artwork that I put aside for every story. Zeroing in on a story is the least ADHD thing about me heh. But when the problem is real, and our metaphor sincere, those old stories are revived again—poured through us like fresh wine in aged bottles.Now hey, if that sounds like your cuppa joe or tea, connect with me. I'll listen to your expectations and guidelines as well and we can find something that not only glues our muses, but breathes life into their individual stories that they could be used for other plots. I know a true long form plot may never be achieved and sparks die off with life and all, but the good thing is that you can always pick it back up after taking a breather, mingling around in the roleplay community sphere. Please understand I do prefer storylines with an overarching plot driven by great twists and turns and will often never do a one-shot unless we have other storylines going on! A palette cleanser is needed from time to time so I always let my partner know to feel free to suggest that!

credits.

E v e r y t h i n g on this page except the Carrd layout (heavily edited from cassialair) and music player (custom made by the amazing and helpful glenthemes) is made by me, unless otherwise stated. That typically includes the background, writings and characters, and clumsily (and hopefully endearing ;w;) try-hard references. That definitely excludes graphic arts, celebrity faceclaims and all media properly credited to the respective owner. The possums can be found all over the interwebs. Specifically the edited possum screaming at ass GIF by the top of this section is by omtay. Jodie Foster and Jocelin Donahue gifs are respectively found here and here. They're my IT girls in Hollywood ✨ Rest of credits will be the last note in each section.

Hats off to you since you've reached the end of this section! Please tell me your favourite food to confirm you have read and understood my rules in its entirety. 💜

SAMPLE1

December 24th, 2017; Early MorningIsolation. In those moments, it felt so fitting, this self-imposed isolation. This wouldn’t be the first time Kiki sought such soulful distractions, but it would be the first time she had done so stone-cold sober. Her nose was cold, but it was not from chewed morphine tablets or dabbling in the opioid habits she previously used to govern emotions that she had never precisely found comfort in. The feeling of forbearance had not passed, though she had left the city behind. Far away, LA was burning like a grounded star, blotting out the stars above. It wouldn’t miss her. From this distance, LA seemed impossible compared to such a small town in Texas, purview in the bleeding blues and purples of the earliest dawn.The cold had become invasive, fingers ached, but perhaps it was from the lack of her normal indulges. Instead, those wise little digits did nothing else besides lifting a dwindling number of cigarettes to her lips, with each one meeting the end - snuffed in the grave dirt between her feet. Against her spine, every time she leaned back was a reminder of the monument to her father. Silent, marble, double-wide gravestone, though no other would be joining him in whatever came after. Perhaps the lack of her faith was explained away with the epitaph of “Room to roll” neatly embossed under the dates between which her father had lived. Either side of his name had telling details of the man, now two years dead. To the left was the logo of a Harley Davidson, and to the right was the icon for the 1984s. She hadn’t missed much since Utah.Hope had brought her here, but it was a messy and fictitious thing that had slowly crumbled into a kind of awed bitterness that she had never felt before. Coming here did not provide the type of closure that she wanted. It did not give her a clean break that had been hoped for: the ultimate dismissal of her woes and burdens. Previously, when she thought of this day, she thought she would sit at her father’s grave, confess her sins, and feel the relief of the encumbrances that had haunted her so bitterly and ruefully. Instead, she had cried, but it was out of relinquished foolishness and utter artlessness on how to continue.In the end, the dead had little to do with the struggle, for the thing about the dead was that they tended to stay that way. After all, she didn’t have much to say, just an offering of some tears on the snow-scorned Texas soil in a graveyard that was decorated but not visited for the better part of the Christmas evening and sequestered night she had spent there. Instead, when she finally finished crying, she was raw, ugly, cold, and had started smoking from a crumpled pack of smokes she had taken from Noah, along with his hoodie, on her exit just a few days before. She was down to the final two cigarettes. The last to be smoked would have been upturned. A habit for luck, though for all the good it was.Without craved distraction, not even her phone, her mind drifted. Kiki pondered if she would die here, in this graveyard - like a pilgrim that had met their destination on some self-inflicted path. Kiki supposed in those moments that righteousness would be a requirement, and she hardly looked or fit the part. She was, for the moment, living on that perplexing edge – that part where she was still logical enough to function ruthlessly and suicidal enough to ignore the general rules of society. Honestly, the Tin Hat Society knew she was coming to Texas, and the last volley of text messages before she went completed dark had confirmed that the THS knew she was on the move.Hands found their way back into hoody pockets, so large in most contexts it would have been comical, but it gave her a subjective amount of warmth. She hadn’t slept since she left LA, and that growing feeling of sand-in-sockets had invaded her eyes. Standing summoned the stiffness that cold gifted her, and she returned to a Lexus she had acquired from a long-term airport lot. As she started it and adjusted the heated seats. On the floorboard was a box, all the worldly goods and baggage in miniature she carried with her. She thought it wouldn’t be so long before the rest of the jewelry was pawned and dropped onto gift cards. But, ‘tis the season, and in the right crowd, a girl like her seeling jewels at pawn barely drew a second glance. The expensive style had meant expensive taste. In the end, all those gifts Leon has lavished her with were nothing more than assets to be liquidated. Life was a limited-time commodity, so she was no longer so considerate of the sentimental pieces.She moved, driving the car out of the cemetery, feeling her blood start to warm once more in the prickle of pins and needles protest.December 24th, 2017; Mid-MorningThe smell of warm leather and heat filled the car, the graceful sensation of too-cold digits waking up with those painful pings of nerve pain was perhaps the only thing that kept her awake. Around her, bleeding through the windows of a car were a world that had gone too white, the snow reflecting the upheaving sunlight as it broke the crest of dawn proper and climbed higher. She had not the foresight for sunglasses, so she drove with a squint that would have been more proper in her once-home of Utah.Today, she did not have a destination in mind. The collective of her unfinished business and been summed up, left on the monument that marked her father's passing, his legacy left in logos and brands - a wolf ring placed to bake in the summer heat and freeze in the winter. Kiki suspected, based on the décor, that his grave would not become the site of pilgrimages by the brothers left behind in Utah. The only sound came from well-maintained tires on the smoothed road - she had given up on the radio for it offered few programming choices, and honestly, she had gotten over Christmas music, assuming she had ever liked it at all.The road straightened out of the town, or perhaps village depending on the population. She figured there had to be a city or a larger town between one place and the next; after all they ran Cat’s Call along here in the not so recent past. Poker runs seemed almost like fables these days and she had heard enough of the stories that went on during a run proper. Tires hummed their lullaby, the interior of the car finally reaching a tender tropical heat. It was easy to forget the cold, her eyes growing heavy on that long stretch of highway.Exhaustion coiled her in softness. Perhaps, this should have been the way it ended, as her chin dipped to a nod, easing those oh-so sand-filled eyes needing just a minute. On the incline, she saw a car creeping into the space behind her, and she looked to the odometer – she was doing 37 in a 55. Though acceleration was not her initial thought, she watched. Passing was legal, and they could do it. Instead, they eased into that conscientious distance that was only maintained by cops and Mormons. She dropped two miles, and so did they, keeping the golden rule of one car for every ten miles per hour. She muttered to herself, turning down the heat and cracking a window, trying to intensify her waning alertness. Eyes flickered up to the rearview again, and the car was falling back.Oh. Good.It would always be the false sense of security that would get one hurt in the worst of ways. The devil may dwell in the details, but she missed them. Kiki had been too tired for the intuition of what was coming. Perhaps that made things better. Perhaps that made it worse. Milliseconds before impact, the rearview mirror filled with amber accent lights, an aftermarket Chevy bumper grill, and a powder-coated steel ram guard.December 24th, 2017; Late-MorningThe pain had been exquisite, palatable, her head was a faraway buzzing when the car had finished moving. She was compacted between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel, feeling the rush of pure adrenaline mixed with pain and the crisis of dread. Blindly she felt for the 0.38 that had been secured in the center, a trick she could thank Val for teaching her. She had attempted the driver’s door and was able to consider opening it an impossibility, giving an inch before a grinding halt. Blood strung her eyes, blinking the world into fragmented red, black, and whites of abrasive airbags as she managed to crawl out to the passenger side. Cold air invaded her lungs while stumbling on asphalt to her knees. This dizzying world was too bright and too cold for her overheated body.On her knees and felt the pain in her chest, the seatbelts embossed bruising. She managed her footing, a wobbly, bow-leg stance, churning mud, snow, and blood into the roadside gravel. She couldn’t see the driver of the truck, as she got enough traction and focus though vision streaked. Assessing the damage to justify the pain that was radiating through her, she noted the rear bumper of the car she had been driving was turned under, shattered tail lights on both sides decorated the highway like so many diamonds and rubies, and a line of fluid that seemed to connect both mechanical beast. Granted, the truck’s ram bar suffered no more than what a brisk buffing couldn’t fix. Kiki tried to process this.Distraction came quickly, though, when she heard gravel crunch and from around the back of the truck was the appearance of a face she knew. “Sphinx?” She inquired. Instinctive to call most by their handles, that had been how she was most interactive. This was one of the many ways of how the wires got crossed between what she did behind the screen and the faces she was starting to know. Slowly they had been bottlenecked into the controlled life that the organization managed - and she intended to leave.Her vigilance with the gun flickered, lowered greased barrel towards the ground, cascades of emotions crashing to the forefront. She wanted to know why and how come about everything. No just here, but why, how, who. All those miserable questions she wanted to throw at this misplaced member. Someone who had seemed so far above all this shit. Someone who had also wanted to be free from the THS. It was harder to shoot a known face, harder when there was shared empathy.Words tangled and clotted in her throat; it wasn’t fear but the look of agony that spun into sorrow upon his features that kept her words silent. “Sphinx?” It was all she could utter, and this man, whose real name was Roger Chism, flicked his eyes over her shoulder. She half turned, and it was like a hammers fall, butt of a gun connecting with her skull – enough to make her knees forget their function and her body to be sent on that downward thrust. She felt the bite of snow against her cheek, road-wet creeping through the side of her pants.If there was anything after that, nothing. It was better she couldn’t remember.

ooc.

Between The Lines
(Old writing sample)Lost to the brink.
Ever a tragedy.Those words twisted around in Adeline’s head, spiralling over themselves to the point of losing all meaning. The crushing feeling of futility only grew in intensity per day. Six days. Six days spent mulling over a piece of mail not long enough to constitute as a haiku. It felt nearly pathetic at this rate. No. No, it had reached the point of pathetic after the second day. To even imagine there were those looking up to her at this point of time was hard to believe.She pushed the note around on her desk, sighing over the coffee cup which had been newly emptied once again. Was that the fifth? Perhaps I should ask them to pick up some new beans before I run out. The cutout letters mocked her in their simplicity; only two lines. Two lines, cutout from pieces of newspaper, glued to basic pink origami paper. Quite the cliché, honestly. If it weren’t connected to a gruesome series of murders, the women would probably scoff at the sight of it, writing it off as something straight out of a novel.A grumble escaped the detective’s lips. “Is it too much to ask for a clearly laid-out clue nowadays?” With a solemn sigh, Adeline rested her cheek in her palm. She had been chasing this particular thorn in her side for a month now. If it weren’t for her sworn duty, Adeline could almost give kudos to the meticulousness. No, no. Adeline sat up straighter to slap her cheek with the hand it seconds prior rested on. “Now is not the time to start appreciating the methods of a killer giving you one nasty workload and an even greater migraine. Now is the time to actually live up to the ridiculous titles the newspapers give you. Come on, Adeline… Lay out the facts.”This was a cleverly planned series of murders, that was for certain. Each crime occurred 7 days apart. Fuck, that last murder was 6 days ago, wasn’t it? No! No time to think about that. Facts. Each person murdered in work clothes. Each body left with a single note, folded carefully into the shape of a flower. Each flower corresponds with the first letter of the victim’s first name. Each colour of paper corresponds with the last name of the victim. The last victim was Lewis Parkers. Lily flower. Pink paper. Each victim suffered a gunshot through the back of the head. The one connecting line seemed to be that each victim worked an office job, but none at the same company or even the same industry. Each was murdered between the times of 5pm-8pm. Which means…“Ugh!” Adeline threw her forehead into her desk with a resounding thud. What did it mean? Why the notes? Why the flowers? Why did her coffee maker’s decanter have to be empty at this point? The futility weighed heavier. One day to the next incident.Lost to the brink.
Ever a tragedy.The Detective pulled out the other notes, each being comparable in frustration causing nonsense. Perhaps mulling over those would at least change the flavour of frustration she was currently dealing with. There was only so much bitterness even a coffee addict could take. The first murder. Rebecca Boyd. A rose, in the colour blue. She was fresh out of college, and just became the assistant of some communications company that seemed to mainly operate traffic lights remotely. Her note read as such:Taken far too early
Left alone to rotThe second, a woman by the name of Taylor Osborne. A high-ranking CEO of an agricultural business. An orange tulip. Her note:Elevated to such a height
All of it for naughtThe third, and a change of form. Whilst the previous two murders had been women, this was a man. Larry Reed. Lotus. Red. Did something or other for a construction company. The treasurer? Yeah, that sounded right. As always, another note:Abandoned without cash
Keep a note of this casualtyCombined with the death of our victim, the manager of a steel manufacturing plant, and his note, you could easily make the shittiest submission for a poetry content Adeline had ever seen. Now, did that mean anything for her case? Well… that was yet to be seen. Or at least figured out. Something within the Detective was gnawing away at her. There was something about the latest note that was different, something that had jumped out to her immediately. If this were just another pathetic wackjob, then that fact would be easily ignored, but with everything else Adeline had seen from this particular case, a detail like this was important to note.The periods.The last note ended each line with a period, something that couldn’t be easily overlooked. Or at least, as much as Adeline’s mind was screaming out. Perhaps this was merely a large plot intended to drive her mad. Perhaps this particular thread was just intended to throw the Detective off her case. *Not that I’ve been much of a help to this case to begin with.”Adeline lined up each of the crinkled papers, trying to force her mind to click things together. “Come on Detective, you’re not truly throwing in the towel quite yet, are you? If you don’t figure this out now, then you’re not having another cup of coffee until this case is finished!”Despite being a meaningless threat from herself, something about those particular words did spark something within her, taking effect. Perhaps it was the memories of her mother giving her the same threat when she didn’t finish a school paper.“Right, this is just like those times. You’ve dealt with worse crunches before. This is simply the all-nighter needed before the paper was due. Except… with a bit higher stakes is all.”Papers. Think. Poems. Think. Periods. Think. Letters of flowers, letters of names. Think, think, think. Letters… First letters…“First letters. FIRST LETTERS!” Adeline shot out of her chair, slamming her hands down on the table. She could barely move fast enough to line up each sheet of paper in order to read out each first letter of the lines.Taken. T. Left. L.
Elevated. E. All. A.
Abandoned. A. Keep. K.
Lost. L. Ever. E.“Teal Lake…” The words came out as barely a whisper. All of Adeline’s previous outward energy was gone, allocated to the rapid pace of her thoughts. Teal Lake, that’s a location 30 miles from here. If I’m not wrong, there was a dam built there 2 years ago, wasn’t there? The time for self-encouraging words was gone. Adeline pulled out her laptop, typing out ‘Teal Lake Dam’ as quickly as her fingers could slam the keyboard. The crease between her brows only grew as she waited for the web page to load. Her impatience was hardly helped by the numbers staring at her from the corner of the screen. 4:52AM. That hardly gave her more than 12 hours to piece this all together. What a headache.When the page finally loaded, the Detective wasted no time clicking on the first news link to pop up. Four killed in machinery malfunction. Teal Lake Dam construction to be withheld until further notice. “Dated 3 years ago, huh?” The article confirmed what she had already pieced together from the tidbits of information now coming her way. It was almost disappointing, really. A probable revenge story, if she had any say of it. Each of the companies in which a victim came from either in some way benefited from or was involved in the construction of the dam. That only left one real thread hanging.Why tell her? With such a convoluted method of sharing the motive behind the crime, it was hard for Adeline to determine why it was even done in the first place, let alone why that particular method was chosen. That question replaced her earlier frustration with what was certainly a new flavour. Not that this one truly felt any better. The thoughts were still entangled in her mind as she refilled her coffee maker. At least this had to be deserving of some form of reward. At least it kept her hands busy while her mind was pulled every which way.Despite putting together a major clue, that feeling of futility bore its weight down once again. There had to be some reason why this particular method was used. Something that only a detective would pick up on. Something that could only be discovered once mulled over for longer than any sane person would. Adeline stared back at the delicately crafted notes, nothing but the familiar drip of brewing coffee to fill the empty space of sound. Something only a detective would notice…Adeline rolled her chair closer to the laptop. The fact that the light of the screen was combated by the light of the rising sun peeking through her blinds did nothing to quell her bubbling anxiety. There had to be a reason. A serial killer didn’t just target only people connected to a certain incident and leave a note for a detective to find leading them to that incident if there wasn’t something to find. A secret hidden beneath the clear waters of Teal Lake. Something “Lost to the brink.” And she would find it. If she couldn’t, then what was the point of all that training to make her into a detective?And what would’ve been the point of turning on the coffee machine again?Chapter Two
The Newcomer“No goddamn point.” Adeline groaned aloud now, as an afterthought. She moved a hand to fix her glasses before half-throwing, half-placing the article she owned for twelve years now due to her legal blindness on the table. She rubbed at her eyes, barely awake to notice the front door of the station opened. The buzz of the sole light bulb aloft her head was her only white noise for what must be hours now.Addie.Adeline jolted in her chair. “Jesus fuck.” Did she just hear Darren’s voice? Darren Kerber was her superior by a rank and a snarky individual who pushed all the buttons she could possibly have – but he never addressed the girl by her nickname. Despite all his sarcasticness, he was the gem-rare few in the station who made her feel like she was an instrumental being, rather than a stereotyped woman-in-the-workforce person. For him, she mirrored that respect.Adeline Sherback stood from the uncomfortable furniture piece she called her office chair and fought the dizzy, swampy feeling of her vertigo as she made her way to the doorway. She paused. She looked away from the door. Her hand pulled at the blinds of her corner office’s window, the one that faced the rest of the police station in the day and in the night – darkness. Usually.“AH!” A face made extremely pale by flashlight bore into her vision, making her take clumsy steps back. “WHAT THE HELL’S FUCKERY, DARREN!”She closed the blinds and just in time saw the flashlight of her lead detective wane off his face, the grin lingering. Seconds later, his figure made its tall and lanky form through her threshold. She rolled her eyes. “Oh baba yaga, don’t mind that, I forgot to sprinkle more salt on the threshold.”Darren smiled sympathetically now, both hands in a prayer gesture to beg whatever wrath she may then incur on him. “So,” his voice was a smooth, honey-coated baritone, “the thing is, I was not invited to the party tonight and I told myself I ought to get a little payback for that.”“Ha-ha. No party here, I thought you were a detective of great stature.” Adeline gestured to the entirety of herself, and then around the cramped office of hers. “See the almost decrepit coffee machine, the sad bags under my eyes, and the smell of said coffee and the burning midnight lamp?”“Seems like a party of epic proportions to me.” He shrugged. His green eyes held the violet undertones of Adeline’s blue ones, before tearing away – and feigning a look of disgust toward her desk, atop which were scrambled papers of the murder and some ongoing smaller case files, but he knew exactly what she was working on tonight. After all, the team had not been making substantial leads and the city people were growing restless and morale, rapidly dropping. Of course she had to be working on that. “Ooh, part of my team actually stayed back to do work. Such enthusiasm is revolting.”In his guise of playing the clown, Adeline noted the chiselled lines of his face, made prominent by new wrinkles that were not there before. She too saw the bags that made a home beneath the man’s eyes. There was always a sense of comfort in colleagues – a ‘given’ understanding when it came to their line of work.

SAMPLE2

The Game. A sadistic term given to something that was a catalyst for misery. And torment and grief, and whatever else is synonymous with the absolute agony ever imaginable. Once more, it came, overtook, and laid a pall of gloom and terror over the village of far too tiny cottages, in which sheltered, imprisoned rather, mortal beings whose lives were contingent on the clock. The humans. For the remainder of them anyway. To them, fear was the merest of an understatement because the sheer strike of midnight meant the onset of carnage and destruction—once more. Like a sick and twisted replaying of a cassette tape from which one could not look away. At least, for the ones in control.To the Vampires? It was precisely such. The Game to them had qualified as entertainment. To the parasitic creatures, the humans were already viewed as livestock prior to any invented game, and had only ever maintained that as their core minimum. Each Feast’s aftermath meant blood for days, but with the number of corpses that always accumulated to an ever increasing total, it was safe to say that it had become a mindless hobby to them. They were exceedingly diabolical, they were tyrants who became the new judge of the Promised Land and Perdition, only it was really just the latter.When you were superior in all aspects that were attributed to being advantageous over the other, what else can you do but to resort to toying with them?Lanterns, candles and even the moon—anything light meant exposure, and exposure meant one’s instantaneous end. It became an entity of taboo, and the darkness itself was already a thing to be feared. To stay near the fire no longer procured a fleeting reminiscence of warmth and safety but instead, images of their fellow kin carved, burnt and mutilated, the order of it immaterial. It was morbid and it was bloody. It was a new age.***Lurking within the obsidian black shadows, a figure leaned against a cobblestone wall, one foot crossed over the other. It remained completely still, barely even breathing—if it was alive to begin with. All of a sudden, there was a change in atmosphere as if time had stopped, dissolving into itself, as shapeless as the rain. The entity let out a noise, an exasperated sigh and pushed itself off the wall, barely taking a step before a human—a man at that—whimpered.The full moon shone like a searchlight upon the figure and it was revealed it was a Vampire, practically oozing with evil. A shadow appeared draped over him but it was only his black mantle, so dark it eluded any possibility of the moon’s silver spilling on it. It concealed his frame well. As dim as the shivery dusk sky, nothing appeared awry with the usual attire of a creature of the night. His skin, however little of it was shown, was pale but not as white as the rest of what one might expect. The hood of his clothing veiled his face, except his mouth which inhibited weapons serving as the herald of one's demise.He was everything that the humans wanted to remain a myth, a blasphemous folktale they could tell and jest to their children and the countless generations afterward. Alas, he was not. They were not. The cold-blooded suckers of the Night was in total, damned existence.Everything became still like everything stopped being. The air was pervaded with the smell of nauseating dried blood, staining the atmosphere and becoming the only aroma, to serve as a lingering reminder. The adjacent pathway to the wall he earlier stood by, connected to a house, had long been dead quiet, the hanging lamps put out and houses barred closed, with wood planks. Mediocre but at least they made an attempt. The vicinity looked desolate and wasted as with all the other areas; mud walls daubed in blood, with sticky giblets and bits left for the birds—belonging to the humans who lingered outside for far too long.The surroundings were humongous trees the community was nestled in, and they made for a very picturesque scenery, straight out of a children’s book. In the morning and day start anew, the entirety of their homes would all be sunkissed by the hot rays cascaded from above, the sun pouring over like a pot of molten lava. A weakness correctly perceived was that the Vampires could not withstand the poison of the sun. It was a different story in the bleak dark for they got back at the mortals in more vexed, vile ways, and had recently thought up even more methods.Lately, bodies of the dead had been put up on makeshift crosses, often their wrists would be nailed down as well so as to imitate the God they worshipped so dearly, their devotion to him being a mockery. In addition, a line cut down their front would be a typical ‘signature’, exposing the insides till the intestines. The Vampires did this and took the hearts out; all the time, to bear in their minds that the humans' lives were in their hands. Then, they ate them.Those unfortunately left for the dead were the typical cases of abusive fathers or alcoholic husbands, or both, of families who latched on to the opportunity. Betrayals inside a species once so united. Prostitutes were also a prevalent sight though most of them no one really felt sorry for. Whoever else, they were those whose minds had simply forgotten what time it was. How careless.The Vampire let out a shocked 'oh', pushing his hood back, exposing his face to every opticals that would lay upon it. The entity would pass for a human, excluding the bloodshot eyes and skin. He had otherworldly beauty that came with being a vampire, untouched like a God and deadly like a weapon. The human had crawled back a couple of feet away from him, however futile that action was. "Well, you don't hide very well, do you?""I-I have a f-family—" the man stumbled over his words, trying to find them. Then, there was a look of unequivocal horror on his face when realisation dawned on him. "Y-You're Rurik! Please, let me live.."However so desperately the man pleaded, no tears yet ran from his glossy eyes. It was a peculiar thing they all had different reactions to his kind, peculiar yet intriguing. The named creature, Rurik, shrugged, appearing closer to him than ever before. In just the blink of an eye, a fraction of a second. He could have already died. The man, becoming aware of this, only whimpered again."What are you, Frederick?" Rurik inquired, tilting his head, red orbs blinking once and never again. The question came out playful yet his expression was dead serious. The man had better respond with the greatest answer he could muster."I-I am a simple farmer and far too thin! I doubt I can sate your a-appetite!"An unsolicited chuckle escaped the Vampire, his white fangs making a terrifying appearance. "You taste all the same to me, but not what I meant. Pray, do you often lay a hand on your wife or child?"".. Of course not!""You seem very confident.""I have someone else you can take tonight! P-Percival, a drunkard who lives just a house away, a ladies' man..""And who are you to decide his worth? You might have been in a state of grace but that was a long time agone." The man began trembling even more at the response, which came out irked, wishing he had not spoken at all.The Vampire dragged out a 'hm', taking literal steps toward him now. He walked around the already dead man. "It matters not. Just understand this—" he leaned down, parting his lips, revealing two knives that glinted menacingly. His mouth reeked of the foulest smell. "—when a creature with fangs asks you anything, stick to a straight answer. Otherwise, you wasted its breath.""...""When silence takes over, it means two things, Frederick."".. Y-Yes?""It is when either fear has overtaken the human, or the Vampire has taken the human," he paused, lowering his voice to barely a whisper yet it registered deafeningly loud in the trembling man's ear. "To Hell.""No! Please!" He lifted himself off the ground, beginning to run with a heavenward glare. "Please, Lord!""I beg to differ, there is no superior entity up there. You're running from the only one, actually.""Agnes, get the stakes and crosses! Agnes!""Only holy water works on us, but.. Not that you'll get to tell that tale now.""Curse y—"Materialising in front of the man, he bent down and bared his fangs. That was the last thing Frederick would see before his own body laid on the ground, still twitching. Dead and gone. His insides were strewn in a sick decorative fashion, arteries, veins, all his entrails collectively put together to form the number, ‘11’. He was the 11th victim—or Showcase, as the fangs called it— of the Game. His throat became a gurgling, bloody water fountain, the remaining life in him spurting out with it. Everything else remained for the dogs. A gorey image that would incite fear once more in the mortals. Rurik had done it again.A breeze came brushing against his skin, came and went carrying away the man's soul."Rurik, you've made a mess again." A womanly voice called out, from behind. Alba.Rurik turned his neck to face her, just enough for a bored eye to glance over his shoulder. He knew who it was without needing to see her full image. He spat out a piece of chewed trachea at the Vampiress’ feet. “I did what I was ordered to do, no more, no less. The dogs will find him first if not his fellow breed.”The woman chuckled lustfully as if taking pleasure from his words. Her long-nailed finger was curling a sole red strand of hair in a sea of deathly black. “I can see why Darwin has chosen you tonight. Only fair since you offered plenty of new methods.. How do you find your first kill?_”“...”“After all, you’re a vampire turned and not a vampire born, hm? Any pesky human spirit still lurking in that monstrous body?”He wiped his mouth clean on his hands which he then wiped on Frederick’s woollen collar. The Vampire stood up as his body turned to face her, finding her eyes, which were the same, unsurprising shade. “My hand made not a slight tremble. Listen to the beat of my heart and all you’ll hear is life that has ceased to exist.”“How delightful,” she grinned, her fangs elongating. “I shall let sire know right away.”“At the last.. Go do your own work scaring the humans for once.""Ha ha."The Vampiress then vanished just like that. Rurik made sure she was gone then kneeled on one knee beside the man, his ebony fingers brushing against his still eyes, closing them for the last time. “Aegre fero.”Then, he stood and disappeared with the wind. Somewhere deeper into the woods. Wherever his feet would carry him and wherever his mind could taste serenity. Wherever Death was not a prerequisite.

kinks & limits

There are the list of my hard yeses, hard nos and in-betweens. Writing turn-ons and squicks, if you will. You have to read this section fully if we are to establish a NSFW roleplay. I will not entertain those who fail to read this and you will be called out in a very threatening manner. (Just kidding, but ammm I?)Because whilst it really shouldn't be said that boundaries should be respected, past individuals have crossed the line that I had to make a whole bio section for this. Surprise, surprise, common sense isn't as common as one thinks..

ooc.

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activity.

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interactions.

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formatting.

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plotting.

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credits.

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mains & exclusives.

❝Even beasts love in some way; to sit in reverence for the fading of days, or to long for caresses, but leave skin better unkissed, so their wild hearts remain fastened to their armour. Even beasts love this way. Even beasts.*❞ — Yours truly, Wild HuntHats off to you since you've reached the end of this section! Please tell me your favourite food to confirm you have read and understood my rules in its entirety.

❝Who is ever at home in oneself. Land without mercy. What if this darkness is no mirror, no scar. Beyond all urgency, I am listening.❞ — Joanna Klink, NightfieldsHats off to you since you've reached the end of this section! Please tell me your favourite food to confirm you have read and understood my rules in its entirety.

❝Il vaut mieux mourir incompris, que de passer sa vie à s'expliquer.❞ — Shakespeare

❝Ars longa, vita brevis❞ — Hippocrates

origin.

use this section to write about your character's origin story / history, basically anything leading up to the current, present day. briefly talk about their childhood, any developmental arcs, etc.Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Nunc lobortis mattis aliquam faucibus purus in. Proin sed libero enim sed. Sit amet consectetur adipiscing elit duis tristique sollicitudin. Sed id semper risus in hendrerit. Nullam ac tortor vitae purus faucibus ornare. Id volutpat lacus laoreet non curabitur gravida arcu ac. Nunc sed id semper risus in hendrerit gravida rutrum quisque. Cursus mattis molestie a iaculis at erat pellentesque. Volutpat ac tincidunt vitae semper quis lectus nulla at. Praesent elementum facilisis leo vel.Amet cursus sit amet dictum sit amet justo donec. Mauris sit amet massa vitae tortor condimentum lacinia quis. Viverra orci sagittis eu volutpat odio facilisis mauris sit. Urna et pharetra pharetra massa massa ultricies mi quis. Ut placerat orci nulla pellentesque dignissim enim sit. Vitae nunc sed velit dignissim sodales ut eu. Et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas integer eget aliquet nibh. Sed libero enim sed faucibus turpis in eu. Elementum pulvinar etiam non quam lacus suspendisse faucibus. Nibh praesent tristique magna sit amet purus. Volutpat commodo sed egestas egestas fringilla phasellus faucibus. Laoreet id donec ultrices tincidunt arcu non. Rhoncus mattis rhoncus urna neque viverra justo nec. Netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas integer eget. Risus ultricies tristique nulla aliquet enim tortor at. Tempor orci dapibus ultrices in iaculis nunc sed augue. Erat velit scelerisque in dictum non. Congue nisi vitae suscipit tellus mauris a. Id interdum velit laoreet id donec ultrices tincidunt arcu non. Id ornare arcu odio ut sem nulla.

present.

use this section to write about what your character is doing during the present day. what's lead up to it, what they plan to do in the future, anything that's currently important to them or their arc.Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Nunc lobortis mattis aliquam faucibus purus in. Proin sed libero enim sed. Sit amet consectetur adipiscing elit duis tristique sollicitudin. Sed id semper risus in hendrerit. Nullam ac tortor vitae purus faucibus ornare. Id volutpat lacus laoreet non curabitur gravida arcu ac. Nunc sed id semper risus in hendrerit gravida rutrum quisque. Cursus mattis molestie a iaculis at erat pellentesque. Volutpat ac tincidunt vitae semper quis lectus nulla at. Praesent elementum facilisis leo vel.Amet cursus sit amet dictum sit amet justo donec. Mauris sit amet massa vitae tortor condimentum lacinia quis. Viverra orci sagittis eu volutpat odio facilisis mauris sit. Urna et pharetra pharetra massa massa ultricies mi quis. Ut placerat orci nulla pellentesque dignissim enim sit. Vitae nunc sed velit dignissim sodales ut eu. Et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas integer eget aliquet nibh. Sed libero enim sed faucibus turpis in eu. Elementum pulvinar etiam non quam lacus suspendisse faucibus. Nibh praesent tristique magna sit amet purus. Volutpat commodo sed egestas egestas fringilla phasellus faucibus. Laoreet id donec ultrices tincidunt arcu non. Rhoncus mattis rhoncus urna neque viverra justo nec. Netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas integer eget. Risus ultricies tristique nulla aliquet enim tortor at. Tempor orci dapibus ultrices in iaculis nunc sed augue. Erat velit scelerisque in dictum non. Congue nisi vitae suscipit tellus mauris a. Id interdum velit laoreet id donec ultrices tincidunt arcu non. Id ornare arcu odio ut sem nulla.

headcanon one. write out a brief fact / headcanon about your character that you would like people to know about here! could be about their skills, anything!
headcanon two. write out a brief fact / headcanon about your character that you would like people to know about here! could be about their skills, anything!
headcanon three. write out a brief fact / headcanon about your character that you would like people to know about here! could be about their skills, anything!headcanon four. write out a brief fact / headcanon about your character that you would like people to know about here! could be about their skills, anything!
headcanon five. write out a brief fact / headcanon about your character that you would like people to know about here! could be about their skills, anything!
headcanon six. write out a brief fact / headcanon about your character that you would like people to know about here! could be about their skills, anything!

   i'm walkin' on.   

when we were younger, we swore the world was ours. now i'm reachin' for you, feelin' like we're worlds apart.

abilities.

physical combat.

write a little tidbit here if you'd like to elaborate on any of the above bullets in depth.Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Sit amet massa vitae tortor condimentum lacinia quis vel eros.

skills.

write a little tidbit here if you'd like to elaborate on any of the above bullets in depth.Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Sit amet massa vitae tortor condimentum lacinia quis vel eros.

people always change

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& we'll never be like we were before.

try to stay the same, but we're

• Home

bangin' our heads against the wall

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

verse name.

verse tag name.

write out a short synopsis about your verse. i recommend keeping it to a few sentences! basic details, all that. use the second line to link to a post or the tag archiving every post in your verse!

if i let you go, will you

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be able to walk on your own?

hard to say it's so, but i

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think we're better off on our own.

i'm walkin' on . . . i'm walkin' on.

people always change

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& we'll never be like we were before.

try to stay the same, but we're

• Home

bangin' our heads against the wall

Declan Anthonio Trask.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

character name.

blog name.

  summary.     summary of your character's relationship with this person here.

if i let you go, will you

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be able to walk on your own?

POETIC

HEARTS