caustic
ππ¨ ππ ππ₯π¨π§π
Welcome!
Hey there, I'm Ambien, your neighborhood, sickly advanced writer and meme lord.
Currently, BNHA is my craving, because it's hella, yo.
I can play many dynamics, I am literate to advanced, although, I say that subjectively, and I will give you good, detailed replies entwined with my dedication. Be it mxm, or mxf; I'm willing to hear out any desired plot you may have.
Of course, I have my interests, usually darker themes, but at this time, I will play anything. Some ideas may attract me more than others, but that's alright, I treat my partners equally. You also needn't worry about being exceedingly literate. I aim to write, and your skill level isn't a bar of rejection for me, I take all skill levels as of this moment.
I do ask for patience in regards to replies as I'm a tad touch of a slow writer if only due to the meticulousness I have. However, I can generally shoot off a message a day if I'm not busy, sometimes, more than that.
I have little to no triggers. Ask me about specific topics if you're unsure of how I'll feel about them, I'm an open book.
I adore OOC. Meme it up with me, joke around, vent, chatter, all of it, I'm down with.
I have off-site methods of roleplaying from Discord to Gmail to Google Docs if it's to your preference.
I have a high preference to play Izuku (Deku) at this particular moment!
I am very into AUs right now!
I prefer gay ships. ; )
|ALL CHARACTERS TO BE AGED UP IF ROMANCE IS INVOLVED|
(Some) Pairings:
Todoroki x Deku
Kacchan x Deku
Ochaco x Deku
Tsuyu x Deku
Shinso x Deku
Iida x Deku
Kirishima x Deku
OC x Canon
Kacchan x Todoroki
Kacchan x Shinso
Todoroki x Shinso
Kacchan x Kirishima
Kacchan x Ochako
Todoroki x Iida
Todoroki x Ochaco
Todoroki x Kirishima
Canon x canon, of course.
Polyamorous pairings.
And more, just ask me! I'm flexible.
themes; angst; slow burn; psychological; gritty & dark; macabre; slight fluff; survival; thriller; mystery; the human psyche; revenge; moralistic complexities; toxicity; musically inspired; romance; platonic; mental illness (but only if played accurately); death; noire; power struggles; AUs; rivalry to romance;
Apologies for your abuse, dearest semi-colon.
Writing Samples
Oh, how new quarries oft led to unfurling opportunities, tantalizing as they were endless, entwined with the high of the pursuit and yet, Alexander found himself lacking any semblance of wonder nor traces of elation. Despite his sizeable distance from Boston, he had been the agent above all chosen for this case. Particularly one of profound renown- this, of course, should have incited an exhilaration of sorts. Perhaps it would have if he knew he could work with more autonomy, however, being sent to another district to take the reigns always pinched nerves and carried the tendency to make everything arduous for all those involved.
An inclination towards a particular shade of mania, if you will, for the job had its benefits, however, and he owed his position to this. Since, overall, Alexander had amassed a reputation of maintaining an unshakeable devotion that might border boundaries befitting the title of "unhealthy,"- although, that was something of which he would dispute with fervency. Regardless, he did not lack in proficiency, and the tenacity landed him a well-known case alongside a free ticket and stay in Boston miles from good, ole New Orleans.
Humoring the satirical, Alexander reflected upon receiving the call, specifically on how he was in a shoddy motel relishing the endings of a high induced by ecstasy mixed with shots of vodka. Remembrances of being curled around his latest indulgence, their bodies tangled with bare flesh more than brushing struck him. Settled adjacent to them on a bedside table his phone began to vibrate, and he had stifled a groan as his partner sniggered, blue eyes piqued with interest.
Dallying fingers trailed his chest.
"Important?"
Sobered in expression, he eyed the girl, her cascading tresses golden in hue and wild from their heated tumble, an appreciable curvature noticeable beneath the almost sheer sheet that veiled her body, her plump lips curved in a coquettish simper. Not the norm in regards to his type, but molly tended to blur the lines for him, and indeed blurred they were.
Damning himself for lack of foresight, Alexander finally fumbled for his phone, outreached fingers trembling- remnants from the high- and recognized the number at once- his boss, of course, rather timely, at that.
"Nothing you need to worry yourself about, it's work. Fortuitous for me, Iβm sure."
A sardonic utterance, however, Alexander entertained little in the way of appeal in divulging his life with a lay that would trickle from recollection in a week's worth.
With a sharp inhale and a prayer to no god in particular for a collected composure, Alex endeavored to steady his pulsating heart- which seemed to reverberate in his ears in pounding thumps- and overall, not sound utterly wasted as he was.
"Hey, chief."
While a simple greeting, the words came slurred, thick like honey.
"Bad time, Alexander?"
Curt, surely not the response Alex hoped for in regards to the circumstances.
"Nothing terrible with your timing, Lucas, I've had a bit to drink, that's all."
Although, a bit to drink was, well, certainly an understatement.
"A bit?"
There was no excusing that especially probing tone, yet Alexander refused to budge.
"Yes, a bit. Now, it's rather late Lucas, and you only call like this when something needs doing."
With a suppressed giggle, the girl untangled herself from beneath his embrace, swaying her hips to entice as she sauntered to a nearby window, flicking the switch of a lighter and kissing a cigarette to the flame it bore.
"I've got a job for you; however, it is... far from our district."
Calculating, he gave no reply as he hoisted himself off the bed, meeting his affair o' the night to share in the vice of smoking, returning a sliver of a grin as she lit the cigarette he plucked with practiced fingers from the pack between them.
"How far?"
How far, indeed, and who would cover the subject of fees for such a trek?
Matters of a family were a non-issue, there was little he would pine over should he opt to leave. So, why not pursue an opportunity that lay ripe?
"Boston, that far, Alex, expenses paid."
Amusement laced Lucas' voice.
"You had me at expenses paid, alright, I'll take the case."
Not long after the call that eve, he jilted his fling early, floundered home, intoxicated, lavishing in a high, and went to his flat to collect what belongings would prove necessities and scheduled the flight, from there by the morn, he was Boston-bound.
All in all, an uneventful trip spent in the extravagant indulgence of first-class with expensive wines aplenty, yet, once he arrived, his demeanor grew solemn lacking the exuberance held during the evening he received the call. Thoughts of the macabre were gnawing at his core as he prepared to delve into the depths of these murders that afflicted the city like a sickness, permeating airs of dread.
Traversing the city, he noted the bolded print on the newspapers served to arouse further a sense of foreboding among the civilians with woven re-tellings written on The Terror case, queries formulating about when the killer would strike once again, and, in the midst of it all, Alexander found himself centralized within.
Finally arriving, stepping out of a taxi, he heaved an exasperated sigh, glancing towards the building where he would be conducting operations, although, not particularly on his own; not this time around.
Unwilling to dally, he trudged onwards, feeling as though he were trekking through thickened mud and slop.
Incognizant to the reception he would receive, the unknown left him nothing beyond a vast realm of pessimism.
Ambling through the doors, nonchalant, Alexander promptly met with a detective with a gruff visage, stoicism keeping his expression leveled.
"Who are you?"
A simple query, although one with tracings of vexation that Alex could scarcely grasp onto, endeavor or not.
"Alexander Thomas, I'm from the FBI, I'm here to assist in the workings of The Terror case, I believe I am to meet with a detective."
Blinking, as if processing the utterance, the officer crossed his arms, and, beyond that stoicism, Alex reckoned there lay buried intrigue.
When eyes trailed to his badge, Alexander flashed it, causing the man to nod, brusque.
"Right, come along, Myers is right this way."
Undeterred by the officer's mannerisms, Alex, quietened by way of rumination of this detective he would be working alongside with, trailed behind, feeling like a lost duckling in a vague sense. An unfamiliarity enveloped him like a gale, threatening to topple his composure, yet, he endured, expression leveled.
"Detective Myers, agent Alexander Thomas is here to see you, I imagine, of course, over the case."
Hints of a tautness Alexander did not quite understand laced his tone.
"Indeed, The Terror case."
Piping in, Alexander put his hands in his pockets, awaiting this detective with a creeping, sprawling interest.
An inclination towards a particular shade of mania, if you will, for the job had its benefits, however, and he owed his position to this. Since, overall, Alexander had amassed a reputation of maintaining an unshakeable devotion that might border boundaries befitting the title of "unhealthy,"- although, that was something of which he would dispute with fervency. Regardless, he did not lack in proficiency, and the tenacity landed him a well-known case alongside a free ticket and stay in Boston miles from good, ole New Orleans.
Humoring the satirical, Alexander reflected upon receiving the call, specifically on how he was in a shoddy motel relishing the endings of a high induced by ecstasy mixed with shots of vodka. Remembrances of being curled around his latest indulgence, their bodies tangled with bare flesh more than brushing struck him. Settled adjacent to them on a bedside table his phone began to vibrate, and he had stifled a groan as his partner sniggered, blue eyes piqued with interest.
Dallying fingers trailed his chest.
"Important?"
Sobered in expression, he eyed the girl, her cascading tresses golden in hue and wild from their heated tumble, an appreciable curvature noticeable beneath the almost sheer sheet that veiled her body, her plump lips curved in a coquettish simper. Not the norm in regards to his type, but molly tended to blur the lines for him, and indeed blurred they were.
Damning himself for lack of foresight, Alexander finally fumbled for his phone, outreached fingers trembling- remnants from the high- and recognized the number at once- his boss, of course, rather timely, at that.
"Nothing you need to worry yourself about, it's work. Fortuitous for me, Iβm sure."
A sardonic utterance, however, Alexander entertained little in the way of appeal in divulging his life with a lay that would trickle from recollection in a week's worth.
With a sharp inhale and a prayer to no god in particular for a collected composure, Alex endeavored to steady his pulsating heart- which seemed to reverberate in his ears in pounding thumps- and overall, not sound utterly wasted as he was.
"Hey, chief."
While a simple greeting, the words came slurred, thick like honey.
"Bad time, Alexander?"
Curt, surely not the response Alex hoped for in regards to the circumstances.
"Nothing terrible with your timing, Lucas, I've had a bit to drink, that's all."
Although, a bit to drink was, well, certainly an understatement.
"A bit?"
There was no excusing that especially probing tone, yet Alexander refused to budge.
"Yes, a bit. Now, it's rather late Lucas, and you only call like this when something needs doing."
With a suppressed giggle, the girl untangled herself from beneath his embrace, swaying her hips to entice as she sauntered to a nearby window, flicking the switch of a lighter and kissing a cigarette to the flame it bore.
"I've got a job for you; however, it is... far from our district."
Calculating, he gave no reply as he hoisted himself off the bed, meeting his affair o' the night to share in the vice of smoking, returning a sliver of a grin as she lit the cigarette he plucked with practiced fingers from the pack between them.
"How far?"
How far, indeed, and who would cover the subject of fees for such a trek?
Matters of a family were a non-issue, there was little he would pine over should he opt to leave. So, why not pursue an opportunity that lay ripe?
"Boston, that far, Alex, expenses paid."
Amusement laced Lucas' voice.
"You had me at expenses paid, alright, I'll take the case."
Not long after the call that eve, he jilted his fling early, floundered home, intoxicated, lavishing in a high, and went to his flat to collect what belongings would prove necessities and scheduled the flight, from there by the morn, he was Boston-bound.
All in all, an uneventful trip spent in the extravagant indulgence of first-class with expensive wines aplenty, yet, once he arrived, his demeanor grew solemn lacking the exuberance held during the evening he received the call. Thoughts of the macabre were gnawing at his core as he prepared to delve into the depths of these murders that afflicted the city like a sickness, permeating airs of dread.
Traversing the city, he noted the bolded print on the newspapers served to arouse further a sense of foreboding among the civilians with woven re-tellings written on The Terror case, queries formulating about when the killer would strike once again, and, in the midst of it all, Alexander found himself centralized within.
Finally arriving, stepping out of a taxi, he heaved an exasperated sigh, glancing towards the building where he would be conducting operations, although, not particularly on his own; not this time around.
Unwilling to dally, he trudged onwards, feeling as though he were trekking through thickened mud and slop.
Incognizant to the reception he would receive, the unknown left him nothing beyond a vast realm of pessimism.
Ambling through the doors, nonchalant, Alexander promptly met with a detective with a gruff visage, stoicism keeping his expression leveled.
"Who are you?"
A simple query, although one with tracings of vexation that Alex could scarcely grasp onto, endeavor or not.
"Alexander Thomas, I'm from the FBI, I'm here to assist in the workings of The Terror case, I believe I am to meet with a detective."
Blinking, as if processing the utterance, the officer crossed his arms, and, beyond that stoicism, Alex reckoned there lay buried intrigue.
When eyes trailed to his badge, Alexander flashed it, causing the man to nod, brusque.
"Right, come along, Myers is right this way."
Undeterred by the officer's mannerisms, Alex, quietened by way of rumination of this detective he would be working alongside with, trailed behind, feeling like a lost duckling in a vague sense. An unfamiliarity enveloped him like a gale, threatening to topple his composure, yet, he endured, expression leveled.
"Detective Myers, agent Alexander Thomas is here to see you, I imagine, of course, over the case."
Hints of a tautness Alexander did not quite understand laced his tone.
"Indeed, The Terror case."
Piping in, Alexander put his hands in his pockets, awaiting this detective with a creeping, sprawling interest.
So came a particular shade of tumult to the facility, abrupt, taut as a strung wire, however, not of the abnormal. A cacophonous din erupted in the hospital in rumorous spillage whenever a miserly soul became admitted to the hellhole known as Laurel Ridge. Accommodated with ivory pigmented walls and tiled floors, many viewed the enclosing achromatism disconcerting; the smell of chemicals permeated through the air, the smell of the sick, ailing in ways where the traits of such illnesses might not unfurl in manifestations physical to the untrained eye. Of course, they elected to section all inmates- as he coined it- to individualistic wards associated with need as apropos, and marvel among his had reached a climax.
However, Elias, svelte frame nestled into a corner, perched on the edge of a recliner, the prominence of his skeletal figure clad in a baggy sweater that created the perception of weightlessness that he ever so lavished in, endeavoring to stray from the discordance. Donning scrub pants about double his size, knotted fast to affix around his jutting hip bones, Eli could find no grievances in regards to his wardrobe today, for it served its convoluted purpose to conceive distortion when he glimpsed his appearance in the mirror.
A pill lay under his tongue, acrid and bitter, dissolving; a sleep-aid, Ambien as it was, one he pilfered prior, how being his little secret, yet, despite pursuing a high, the fervent impulse for inebriation, it did not lessen his nuisance at the turbulence around him, that perpetual chattering of the restless.
Beside him propped a smaller man, scars marring the span of his forearms, and, moreover, if one perceived, the blemishing to his pallid skin appeared to be the result of self-mutilation.
Relatable, truly. Along the length of Elias's forearms bore similar marks, although he kept his obscured beneath articles of clothing.
Elias's meticulous glower flicked to a clock mounted on the wall, ticking with an audibleness grating and reverberating in his ears like a hum- a terrible reminder that time crawled at a sluggish, sufferable pace in this damnable place.
Furthermore, it served as a remembrance that the nurses would be taking medication rounds soon, drugging patients until reduced to the ambulating dead in function; patients certainly including himself, urging forth exasperation vehement.
"Y'know, i-it's S-smoke break s-soon, Eli, y-you think the new p-person w-will-"
Stammering came from Ben, who clenched his own hands in a wrenching, clutch stemming from neurosis, blossoming into a habit.
Also gaunt, Ben's emaciation matched Elias's, and his bony knuckles struck out with evident recesses between them.
"No, I don't particularly care about the new person, nor to speculate if our ward will be their new home, I don't listen to the grapevine, Ben."
Retaining a fractious mood, Elias came across brusque in his statements, rolling fierce, hazel eyes upward as if fancied Ben's vexatious self elsewhere, especially as he had lugged his entirety from bed to this position, to skirt past the rumor-mill. Since his brusque utterance, Ben fell into a reticence, and Eli sought rapture in it; everyone played the part of bothersome gnats with mouths fluttering like droning wings today, with the whole ward brimming with jabber.
Given such ruckus, Elias surmised the hapless sod would be coming to their ward, one for adults, both male and female, although, they kept the rooms gendered and apart, so a yawning gap lay between the two. The trickling of patients in their ward stalled in eventuality, and, perhaps that indeed was why everyone could not contain their un-collective shit.
In the meanwhile, two nurses, of whom Elias held no fondness for, corralled the idlers and gossipers up for medication like cattle, encouraging "hushed voices," which elicited a snort from Elias; there would be no tranquility until the newcomer made their grand reveal.
For now, Ben withdrew with a curt nod, while Elias opted not to stir for he found medication time to be abhorrent, albeit, it was to no avail. One of the nurses brought him a minuscule plastic cup, topfull with a myriad of meds indicated for a multitude of disorders.
Expectant the nurse who handed him the medications gave him a connotative glare and Eli knew the unraveling of what it meant.
While holding inclination to obstinacy, he swallowed the medications in one gulp, aversion striking him as they slid down his gullet, however, he endured.
These medications gave him the urge to eat, with an insatiable hunger perturbing. Of course, such hunger became bestial in the turmoil of his ruminating mind creating a complete and utter fervent fear. As usual, when not under the sights of a nurse, with a sliver of pain, he expectorated the medications. Especially since on agog days such as these where, despite his agitation, intrigue burrowed through him, piqued- something inclination would allow admittance of, and therefore, he chose not to be sedated.
With the stolen Ambien kindled in effect throughout him, the room seemed to waver, moving like wild tides, and a sensation of being upon a rocking ship encompassed him.
Steadiness from acclimation to the hallucinogenic effect, Elias lumbered to the front of the room, near the exit that promised freedom. Two guards awaited him, yet he lingered, loitering; what was he waiting for, it seemed elusive from his wrenching clutches.
In the meanwhile, relinquished from the ordeal that is check-in- something that imprinted trepidation in Elias- was the new patient of which he bumped into an accident brought about by intoxication. At once, his body colliding into a petite frame, willowy as his, bone met bone, and he stepped backward, almost stumbling, taking in a girl with gray, monochrome strands of tendriled hair long and mane-like, with piercing eyes of a peculiar violet that took Elias back.
There was no disputing she had an engaging visage.
"Fuck, watch it."
Feigning ignorance that he had been responsible for the collision, Eli snapped, embittered for no particular reason besides his current vicious disposition.
"Oh, it's you, the newbie, who's caused quite the bustle. Welcome to hell, what are you in for?"
Given her emaciation of which he perceived during their clash, he could figure a semblance of theory what in part delivered her here.
However, Elias, svelte frame nestled into a corner, perched on the edge of a recliner, the prominence of his skeletal figure clad in a baggy sweater that created the perception of weightlessness that he ever so lavished in, endeavoring to stray from the discordance. Donning scrub pants about double his size, knotted fast to affix around his jutting hip bones, Eli could find no grievances in regards to his wardrobe today, for it served its convoluted purpose to conceive distortion when he glimpsed his appearance in the mirror.
A pill lay under his tongue, acrid and bitter, dissolving; a sleep-aid, Ambien as it was, one he pilfered prior, how being his little secret, yet, despite pursuing a high, the fervent impulse for inebriation, it did not lessen his nuisance at the turbulence around him, that perpetual chattering of the restless.
Beside him propped a smaller man, scars marring the span of his forearms, and, moreover, if one perceived, the blemishing to his pallid skin appeared to be the result of self-mutilation.
Relatable, truly. Along the length of Elias's forearms bore similar marks, although he kept his obscured beneath articles of clothing.
Elias's meticulous glower flicked to a clock mounted on the wall, ticking with an audibleness grating and reverberating in his ears like a hum- a terrible reminder that time crawled at a sluggish, sufferable pace in this damnable place.
Furthermore, it served as a remembrance that the nurses would be taking medication rounds soon, drugging patients until reduced to the ambulating dead in function; patients certainly including himself, urging forth exasperation vehement.
"Y'know, i-it's S-smoke break s-soon, Eli, y-you think the new p-person w-will-"
Stammering came from Ben, who clenched his own hands in a wrenching, clutch stemming from neurosis, blossoming into a habit.
Also gaunt, Ben's emaciation matched Elias's, and his bony knuckles struck out with evident recesses between them.
"No, I don't particularly care about the new person, nor to speculate if our ward will be their new home, I don't listen to the grapevine, Ben."
Retaining a fractious mood, Elias came across brusque in his statements, rolling fierce, hazel eyes upward as if fancied Ben's vexatious self elsewhere, especially as he had lugged his entirety from bed to this position, to skirt past the rumor-mill. Since his brusque utterance, Ben fell into a reticence, and Eli sought rapture in it; everyone played the part of bothersome gnats with mouths fluttering like droning wings today, with the whole ward brimming with jabber.
Given such ruckus, Elias surmised the hapless sod would be coming to their ward, one for adults, both male and female, although, they kept the rooms gendered and apart, so a yawning gap lay between the two. The trickling of patients in their ward stalled in eventuality, and, perhaps that indeed was why everyone could not contain their un-collective shit.
In the meanwhile, two nurses, of whom Elias held no fondness for, corralled the idlers and gossipers up for medication like cattle, encouraging "hushed voices," which elicited a snort from Elias; there would be no tranquility until the newcomer made their grand reveal.
For now, Ben withdrew with a curt nod, while Elias opted not to stir for he found medication time to be abhorrent, albeit, it was to no avail. One of the nurses brought him a minuscule plastic cup, topfull with a myriad of meds indicated for a multitude of disorders.
Expectant the nurse who handed him the medications gave him a connotative glare and Eli knew the unraveling of what it meant.
While holding inclination to obstinacy, he swallowed the medications in one gulp, aversion striking him as they slid down his gullet, however, he endured.
These medications gave him the urge to eat, with an insatiable hunger perturbing. Of course, such hunger became bestial in the turmoil of his ruminating mind creating a complete and utter fervent fear. As usual, when not under the sights of a nurse, with a sliver of pain, he expectorated the medications. Especially since on agog days such as these where, despite his agitation, intrigue burrowed through him, piqued- something inclination would allow admittance of, and therefore, he chose not to be sedated.
With the stolen Ambien kindled in effect throughout him, the room seemed to waver, moving like wild tides, and a sensation of being upon a rocking ship encompassed him.
Steadiness from acclimation to the hallucinogenic effect, Elias lumbered to the front of the room, near the exit that promised freedom. Two guards awaited him, yet he lingered, loitering; what was he waiting for, it seemed elusive from his wrenching clutches.
In the meanwhile, relinquished from the ordeal that is check-in- something that imprinted trepidation in Elias- was the new patient of which he bumped into an accident brought about by intoxication. At once, his body colliding into a petite frame, willowy as his, bone met bone, and he stepped backward, almost stumbling, taking in a girl with gray, monochrome strands of tendriled hair long and mane-like, with piercing eyes of a peculiar violet that took Elias back.
There was no disputing she had an engaging visage.
"Fuck, watch it."
Feigning ignorance that he had been responsible for the collision, Eli snapped, embittered for no particular reason besides his current vicious disposition.
"Oh, it's you, the newbie, who's caused quite the bustle. Welcome to hell, what are you in for?"
Given her emaciation of which he perceived during their clash, he could figure a semblance of theory what in part delivered her here.
Last edited:
