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Multiple Settings // Coveted Creativity; Join me【🅞🅟🅔🅝】

Sub Genres
Action, Adventure, Dystopian, LGTBQ Friendly, Romance, Supernatural


Mature Hobbyist Writer
Suprose we write?
About Me ♥
Stroodles Stats
‘Ello ello, Strood here calling out from the abyss.

Canadian here, 26 as of this month with an abundance of free time. I’d consider myself a more learned writer with a penchent for challenge and pursuit of further development~ What I crave is someone I can speak OOC to, plot, and who has patience as I’m a sickly fellow with a myriad of butterflies in my brain. I often have down days which infrequently turn into bad months, regardless, this can be discussed further through DM.
Piqued Intrigue M// Preferred
Modern + Supernatural
Vampire The Masquerade
Gritty, Dark, Post/Apocalyptic, Noir
Incorporating dice rolls
Worldbuilding & Plotting
Fantasy Settings
Angst, Morbidity, Drugs...

Nah Bro Omegaverse
Playing Female (Not my flavor)
Slice of Life
Pairings & Themes

Captor/Creator Captive
Recovering Addict Addict
Necromancer/Witch Demon
Vampire/Fledgling Human
Fledgling Warlock
Hunter Prey (supernatural)
Vagabond Criminal/Runaway
Spoopy Pal Adventure
Two professionals/friends making a show about supernaturally charged places and gradually learning that there are things better left unmentioned, undisturbed...
Potential for lighthearted jokery, banter, creepiness. I'd love to take this in a morbid direction, too.
Part of Me
Parasitic, demonic, possession, or replacement in its entirity; I'd love to write a roleplay in which one person has been swapped out for another entity. In the case of a possession or swapping It would be interesting to go with more of an "I want to exist" approach as opposed to a "IMMA TAKE OVER THE WORLD" one. I'd love to play the replaced.
Backing Up
A designer/computer scientist/engineer creates some form of AI and falls in love with it. Potential for them to be quite demented/deranged to do so. Summer Wars/Digimon vibes with AI that grows and learns depending on what it's given, and potential to progress as a virus or into a body to host its essence. I would really love this plot to be particularly morbid im some way or another, be it by mental illness or straight up grotesque. Happy to play either role.
Fear no God
Your character comes into contact with a creature of angelic nature; whether they are genuinely an angel of lore or not is difficult to determine, yet here he stands with opalescent feathers and an expression of sorrow.
"We've been abandoned, didn't you know?"
Shoot me Dat Direct Message Writing is my hobby; it's an artform I greatly enjoy. I don't wish to stagnate, and am always putting in effort to improve and grow. If you're interested in writing with me hit me up with a sample of your writing and we'll get the ball rolling. Don't worry about grandiloquence, it's genuinely creativity I long for.

Writing Samples
Isadora's Introduction
"Time. Seconds, hours, minutes; it's all a grandiose fuss which I loathe to muck about in. Days resemble weeks just the same as weeks do years in this vastly dissonant and seemingly unending world" A pale flicked about as the young male spoke on and on, his tone monotonous as his crimson eyes scanned the bookshelves lining the study.

"...Expansive, indeed, and yet things always seem to run out or become repetitive." Continuing, Isadora seemed to speak to no one in particular, musing to himself mostly about this and that and whatever fancied him at the moment.

"Often I'm wrought with agonizing boredom, and so I take to experiments; flavor, you." The quirk of a smile, he turned his attention to the writhing mass of congealed flesh lingering in the corner. It shook as though frightened, and while vaguely *human* in its flesh, nothing resembling such by shape.

"I'm so bored Cecil." Groaning now, Isadora flicked his wavy hair back and stood from the chair in which he'd taken refuge. Stepping lively like, towards the mass, he chided as it shrunk away, "Cecil, Cecil, be good."

Aware of his cruelty, he lingered as though reconsidering his actions, a tall glass of red held within dainty fingers. A flicker of light danced within the cup, cast from the fireplace adjacent the two. "Alright, alright, fine, Cecil. I'm sorry." Expression one of dutiful remorse, he tipped the glass so that it poured over the squalor of flesh.

Exhaling a huff, he watched as the thing slithered rapidly for the fireplace, a grotesque screeching emanating from within the embers as it shriveled within the flame. Ugly indeed. Groaning again as he returned to his lonesome lifestyle, he tossed empty glass aside, leaving it to shatter amongst the stained carpet and tatters of books.

"The world seems to repeat. Over and over until addendum and then once more." Standing still within the room, he offered a pause, waiting until there returned his favored silence once the blighted creature withered entirely.

"Please give me something." His request carrying a tinge of longing, it had been millennia since he'd last spoken with intent to rouse his maker. Disdain rolling oh -so clearly through his body, he was aware it woke and took notice. The world continued, and as such, he felt such a pitiful little man in its presence. Nothing changed, nothing quite, and yet Isadora knew it watched and listened.

Breathing in its essence, his eyes lidded as he felt the softness of the creature's voice, never malicious - not outright. He cared so deeply, so tenderly for its purpose and for its slumber, so to have woken it for no end but a complaint felt petty, and yet here they were.

Given no words, just a gentle embrace, he felt calm and pleased, and when he felt the beast was due to return to its slumber, it didn't. Instead, his maker designed him a solution to his query; in which a suitor had been chosen. Upon realization of such, and struck by fancy, Isadora felt determinately excited and with exuberance witnessed his maker slump back into stasis, knowing in entirety that his newest goal was to find this individual.

Giddiness palpable, never in existence he'd been gifted a task of such minuity, and to have been given one was inspiring.
Resisting Demise
Within his mind was a torrent of voices, melding into a deadening discord demanding of his attention; altogether the racket was incommodious. Each voice spoke only one or two words, their meanings lost amongst the sound of it, though it all tangled into one cacophonous static. The static, enough to send him spiraling into his own personal hell, was stark-overshadowed by the Hadean punishment he had been plunged into. Taz was vaguely aware of the arms which sought to caudle amongst the pain of the curse ravaging him, his body curling in unto itself as he was drawn towards Elias' chest. Within his mind, his thoughts were in a tizzy, irrevocably trapped within his withering form, and unable to react to his affliction in any way other than the most basic, instinctual responses. Unlike his venture into sitting passenger, he was offered none of the numbness or shelter accompanied with allowing Ebidysses the wheel, instead, leaving him to face the claws of whatever the fuck Elias had chosen to give him alone.

In his mind's eye, a vision came to him; a field of mauve. Within the vast yard, spanned the purple flowers, wet from the mist rolling in. His surrounding took an abrupt shift to dismal; plants shriveling as the dense fog developed and consumed until he could see no further than his hand. Humidity hung heavy in the air, its weight supernatural and gripping, pulling him into the damp soil for him to lay with the flowers resting limply beneath his feet. Overall the scene reflected a macabre beauty, and Taz found himself gripped with unfamiliar emotion and subtle pining. Wilting was the word he associated strongly with the scene, as though the field before him had been cursed with it; the curse of wilting was the name he connected inexplicably as though some smarmy asshole slipped him a note explaining the situation.

Amidst his dream-like state, Taz's body continued to wither. His jaw agape and body locked in a state of shock as his skin began to crack. Unaware until the last few moments of the violent, poisonous pain which diffused his very existence; his death and enviable end imminent, if not for the furious fight within his body and soul for mere existence. Snapping back into consciousness, Taz was faced with the reality that he had been gasping and clawing into Elias' form, his fingers curled firmly into whatever cloth or skin within his range. Unable to utter even a word, he bore witness to the tail-end of pain as, mute, his form ceased to fight and fell into torpor upon the vampire's chest.

Nebulous horizons again, the male stood within his personal purgatory with negligible relief. The first thought to strike him at that moment was that he had abandoned Elias once more; he'd left the vampire to lay alone within the pile of whatever remained of his body. Beyond this, he was aware that being in this state of limbo, he was likely to return to his body given it recovered to a functional state sometime soon, but he also entertained the idea that this was it, and that this was always going to be it. The vast abyss he found himself in; each and every soul's personal hell designed fit the type of life lived. His own experience one of neglect. Neglect for himself, others, and by anyone who'd ever come to know his sorry ass; teetering now within the vacuum of existence and nonexistence. If this was hell, it suited who he'd committed to being.

As he stood within the yawning expanse of oblivion, he swallowed and took his first step. Never before had he been granted such an unfettered view of his soul's shed, unabated by the petulant curses which seemed only to gain substance within this shared domain. He walked forward into nothingness, a strange enough concept given that emptiness couldn't exactly come closer nor be moved away from. Nothing was exactly that, and as such, moving was a concept seemingly foreign to this place. This quiet, quiet place.

Taz, seeking some semblance of normality, swallowed again and licked his lips, dry, though he wondered if it was memory or reality. He yelled out the first thing to come to mind at the moment, which was unabashedly 'Taz' in nature. "FUCK YOU!" He inhaled deeply, teeth gritting as he lingered in silence a few moments before yelling again, though rather than words, he released a guttural scream. Once the sound faded, he was left standing within the same silence he'd started out with. Nothing had changed. No Lovecraftian creatures sought him out for devour, and no voice returned to him. Nothing.

He stood in contemplation for a long time after that, his body, he noticed, lacked any pain. In fact, he was without sensation entirely. Even his throat which should have burned from screaming was without the agitation of such, and further, Taz realized he lacked form entirely. The motion of licking his lips a basic function he was suddenly incapable of. Stricken suddenly with profound fear, he turned to face any direction within the darkness, but no change occurred, he didn't move; there was literally nothing. Indeed the curses did not gain substance here, no, he lost it. He was nothing, here. "Fucking fine. Fine! If this is fucking it, I will not! I will not, too, you fuckers!"

Gasping and further sputtering, Taz snapped awake from what could only be described as the most destructive nightmare he'd ever been privy, though wholly aware of its depths and the absolute truth it bore. His body continued to ache, and his eyes clenched shut as a broken groan, and further sob left him. He could barely acclimate to the pain, its grip on his body firm and wracking. Gasping again, sharply, he motioned to grip Elias' clothes, "F-fucking" He couldn't believe the relief he felt to be back; to feel. It was euphoric in the most unnatural way.
Ebidysses' Irritation
Returning to the mantle, which was his grip on this shared body of theirs, Ebidysses took an audible intake of air. Sharp eyes focusing first on the ceiling of the room only long enough to gather himself before swiftly turning on the tall male across from him. Aggression immediate, proverbial hackles rose as his gaze flared to life, unsettling fire flickering behind his silvers provoking a sensation of malicious perturb within the air of the room.

"What in the world did you do? That substance it's - I can't fathom how any creature on this god-forsaken planet would use something of such potency with such blatant disregard. You are the most idiotic, infuriating, inane --" Spitting a hiss, Ebidysses made a point of spinning on-spot, unleashing a guttural groan as frustration piqued and boiled over.
Silence filled the room for a moment, until, in place of exasperation came dull, rolling laughter. Lifting a hand to his face, the demon lingered in spot, laughter transitioning into a giggle almost playful in nature.
"... I've never been that angry. Curious."

Having persisted beyond his bout of emotion, he returned to the odd cool the vampire had assuredly grown accustomed to. With a flick of his wrist, Ebidysses ignored him and began stepping about the room. With an exaggerated flourish, he plucked a shirt from the floor, holding it open to inspect the inscription printed upon it and quirking a brow.
Upon the dirty-grey shirt was printed a poorly drawn feline with the words 'kitten my swole on' and it drew further groan from the male, albeit much more subdued.

"Strength," clinging to the t-shirt in his left he then gestured to himself as he locked eyes with the taller male. "My strength, comes from magic, and my body is empty. Why don't we go shopping?"
Worded in the way of a suggestion, it was clear he would not take no for an answer, and while at any other time he may have enjoyed parading about the city on his own, the vessel which he sported was unsuitable for any such flaunt.

Huffing indignantly, Ebidysses took the shirt to the bed, hooking the sleeve on the headboard before catching his foot into it and applying the weight of his body, effectively tearing it in two. Pleased to see results despite boasting feebleness, he took to shredding the shirt further with significant strain until he held the blindfold he'd designed. While never having experienced this vessel's aversion to light himself, he was well aware that pervasive blindness would be the most annoying outcome, of which he'd like to avoid.

"You don't light aflame in the daylight, do you? I can't rightly recall what all you're capable of, and while being a watered-down vampire is always unpredictable, there are benefits." Turning to face him, he smirked, "I would like to go out, and I'd prefer you not die."

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