tointernalize
Who are you?
Hey all! I have this character I’ve been writing for a long time and I’d really love to write this sort of epic on-off childhood-sweethearts romance for him, if anyone’s up for it. Find all the information you'll need below!
The Character
To sum Cal (that's my boy's name) up as quickly as I can: he grows up during the 1980s, in a small town south of London; an angry teen punk raised by a poor single mother. He has a younger half-brother he loves dearly and an abusive stepfather. He volunteers for the SAS when he turns 18 and is shipped off to fight in the Gulf War, where he's badly injured and a significant portion of his squad is killed in action. Returning to England wounded and griefstricken, he slowly detaches from everyone he knows both emotionally and, well, physically, eventually moving to the US, where he lives for a few years and, after some while, finds himself getting back into the game as a mercenary/freelancer. I've only ever written him in his late 40s, very much immersed into his work - so this will be the first time I ever get to write him as a teen.
For both fun and reference: this is he, aged 20-something, before becoming a mercenary and forever a punk:
The Plot
Let me preface this by saying: this is just a general idea for something I'd like to write with Cal. We don't have to follow it word-for-word and I'd love to work out a plot that caters to both our characters, not just Cal and his hardships. I'd like your character to get as much of the spotlight as Cal and I'd love to incorporate their life story into the plot and change it accordingly. That being said, though, it's important to note that I would like to actually write out the entirety of their teenage romance before we get to any of the 1990s/2000s/more adult stuff.
Alright, so: during high school, while Cal is a frustrated, angry, giant teen (he grows into his full height of 6'7 during the summer before 10th grade) who is trying not to flunk out of high school while also maintaining a part-time job, regularly getting into fights and causing trouble, starts fooling around with another boy from school, presumably secretly (again: these're the 80s). Maybe they start from casual hookups and fall in love over time; maybe they've been childhood friends for a long-ass time beforehand. Either way: when Cal graduates and leaves for the SAS, they break up. Hell, maybe they don't - maybe it's just a mutual agreement to, uh, see one another around. Maybe they agree to wait for one another, who the hell knows? They could fight over it or they could try and support one another as young adults.
Regardless: things change about 2 years later, whether they like it or not. Cal gets shipped off to fight at the Gulf War, and spends roughly six months in Iraq before a serious on-duty injury has him shipped back to England. With several of his squadmates dead and a serious case of PTSD, Cal quickly falls into a deep depression, lashing out at anyone and everyone he knows in order to get as far away from them as possible. Maybe this puts a serious strain on their relationship, whatever it may be at this stage; maybe your character does manage providing him with some solace.
Either way, after a couple of years' worth of physiotherapy and self-alienation, Cal leaves for the US, and the two men think they're never going to see each other again. Plot twist: they do. Maybe your character moves to the US and happens to run into Cal; maybe he's visiting for whatever reason; maybe Cal returns to England years later on a job. Cal's job as a mercenary has him traveling all around the globe and, eventually, takes an even heavier emotional toll (lots of fun paranoia and dissociation to play with) - but this happens in a slow process over the entirety of his 30s, and would not necessarily affect his relationship with your character they way it does the rest of his relationships. Long story short: I think there's a lot of potential here for something that could be really great with a lot of ups and downs, lots of turning points and a lot of room for both our characters to develop and change.
The Writer
The Character
To sum Cal (that's my boy's name) up as quickly as I can: he grows up during the 1980s, in a small town south of London; an angry teen punk raised by a poor single mother. He has a younger half-brother he loves dearly and an abusive stepfather. He volunteers for the SAS when he turns 18 and is shipped off to fight in the Gulf War, where he's badly injured and a significant portion of his squad is killed in action. Returning to England wounded and griefstricken, he slowly detaches from everyone he knows both emotionally and, well, physically, eventually moving to the US, where he lives for a few years and, after some while, finds himself getting back into the game as a mercenary/freelancer. I've only ever written him in his late 40s, very much immersed into his work - so this will be the first time I ever get to write him as a teen.
For both fun and reference: this is he, aged 20-something, before becoming a mercenary and forever a punk:
The Plot
Let me preface this by saying: this is just a general idea for something I'd like to write with Cal. We don't have to follow it word-for-word and I'd love to work out a plot that caters to both our characters, not just Cal and his hardships. I'd like your character to get as much of the spotlight as Cal and I'd love to incorporate their life story into the plot and change it accordingly. That being said, though, it's important to note that I would like to actually write out the entirety of their teenage romance before we get to any of the 1990s/2000s/more adult stuff.
Alright, so: during high school, while Cal is a frustrated, angry, giant teen (he grows into his full height of 6'7 during the summer before 10th grade) who is trying not to flunk out of high school while also maintaining a part-time job, regularly getting into fights and causing trouble, starts fooling around with another boy from school, presumably secretly (again: these're the 80s). Maybe they start from casual hookups and fall in love over time; maybe they've been childhood friends for a long-ass time beforehand. Either way: when Cal graduates and leaves for the SAS, they break up. Hell, maybe they don't - maybe it's just a mutual agreement to, uh, see one another around. Maybe they agree to wait for one another, who the hell knows? They could fight over it or they could try and support one another as young adults.
Regardless: things change about 2 years later, whether they like it or not. Cal gets shipped off to fight at the Gulf War, and spends roughly six months in Iraq before a serious on-duty injury has him shipped back to England. With several of his squadmates dead and a serious case of PTSD, Cal quickly falls into a deep depression, lashing out at anyone and everyone he knows in order to get as far away from them as possible. Maybe this puts a serious strain on their relationship, whatever it may be at this stage; maybe your character does manage providing him with some solace.
Either way, after a couple of years' worth of physiotherapy and self-alienation, Cal leaves for the US, and the two men think they're never going to see each other again. Plot twist: they do. Maybe your character moves to the US and happens to run into Cal; maybe he's visiting for whatever reason; maybe Cal returns to England years later on a job. Cal's job as a mercenary has him traveling all around the globe and, eventually, takes an even heavier emotional toll (lots of fun paranoia and dissociation to play with) - but this happens in a slow process over the entirety of his 30s, and would not necessarily affect his relationship with your character they way it does the rest of his relationships. Long story short: I think there's a lot of potential here for something that could be really great with a lot of ups and downs, lots of turning points and a lot of room for both our characters to develop and change.
The Writer
- I'm 30, and prefer my writing partners to be 21+ (bonus points for 25+).
- I write both long and short replies (anywhere between 250 to 1000+ words), depending on what I feel is called for. With Cal, they're usually shorter simply because he never says much, and I don't tend to delve into his thought process too often (this is just a personal preference; I'm trying to do more show than tell. You do you and write out your character's thoughts if you want to). I don't mind the length of your reply as long as you give me something to work with; but I do ask for decent grammar and spelling and a matched level of enthusiasm.
- That being said: English is my second language. Though I have a pretty firm grip of it, mistakes happen. Please feel free to point them out to me! I aim to improve.
- I consider myself to be a lit writer, and would prefer you to be the same. Don't get me wrong, writing is a chill hobby for me - but I do put a lot of effort into my writing and would prefer that you did too.
- Obviously, I love writing romance, but I don't like for the plot to revolve solely around it; I'd like for actual stuff to be happening in our characters' lives and for them to grow and develop out of.
- I strongly prefer writing on Discord, but it's not a must.
- I keep a fairly busy schedule and will do my absolute best to reply every other day. Looking for someone with similar levels of activity.
- I'll be leaving a small writing sample below the cut at the end of the post. Please feel free to browse - however, if you're easily triggered, I suggest you skip that part.
- I'm a sucker for realism and slow burn and... that's pretty much it. You're welcome to ask me anything if there's any information missing on here - I don't offend easily and I really want to write this with you!
“That’s him right there, detective,” the medical examiner, bewildered still, points a finger to the man curled up on the bench just outside the mortuary.
All anyone managed telling the 911 operator during the brief call was to come quick as, in the caller’s very own words, one of ‘em’s come alive. The story Ross McCann, the forty-something medical examiner, shares with Detective West upon his arrival, is just about as fantastical as it is perplexing. According to McCann, at around nine this morning, both he and two other coworkers, still sipping on their morning coffees and discussing last night’s football match, were startled by loud shouting and banging coming from within one of the cold lockers. Surprise was soon replaced by a mixture of shock and horror when, upon undoing the hatch, what they found inside was a living human man. He’d only managed leaping out of the compartment and dragging himself on skinny, shaking limbs to the corner of the room before the stench hit them; as of yet, they are still unable to tell West just how long the man had been lying in his own sick and he, for the most part, has not been too keen on cooperating. He had cowered in the corner of the room, naked and hysterical, crying and shivering and refusing to allow anyone near him, for a good thirty minutes before Tracy, a young forensics technician, had managed soothing him just enough to reach. Once calm enough to, at least, listen and comprehend what was being said to him, they gave him a medical gown and allowed him to wash the vomit out of his hair in the bathroom sink which, according to McCann, was when they called the emergency in.
“Name’s Job Edwards,” he reads off the file held in his hands, “took too sharp a turn on the I-40 and slipped his bike under a twelve-wheeler. The, um, victim?” He hesitates as though unsure whether the title is suitable and holds the file out for the Detective to see for himself, “Both he and the bike were a total-loss. Declared dead upon arrival.” He pauses, still hesitant, and fails to meet West’s gaze as he adds, “… that was three days ago. They’re fetching his things from storage now.”
Outside, a cigarette burns idly between Job’s fingers as he holds his head in his hands. He does not greet nor look at the detective when he hears the morgue’s door push open, then gently click back shut; only wipes his eyes and nose over his knuckles and takes a long, slow drag off the cigarette.
All anyone managed telling the 911 operator during the brief call was to come quick as, in the caller’s very own words, one of ‘em’s come alive. The story Ross McCann, the forty-something medical examiner, shares with Detective West upon his arrival, is just about as fantastical as it is perplexing. According to McCann, at around nine this morning, both he and two other coworkers, still sipping on their morning coffees and discussing last night’s football match, were startled by loud shouting and banging coming from within one of the cold lockers. Surprise was soon replaced by a mixture of shock and horror when, upon undoing the hatch, what they found inside was a living human man. He’d only managed leaping out of the compartment and dragging himself on skinny, shaking limbs to the corner of the room before the stench hit them; as of yet, they are still unable to tell West just how long the man had been lying in his own sick and he, for the most part, has not been too keen on cooperating. He had cowered in the corner of the room, naked and hysterical, crying and shivering and refusing to allow anyone near him, for a good thirty minutes before Tracy, a young forensics technician, had managed soothing him just enough to reach. Once calm enough to, at least, listen and comprehend what was being said to him, they gave him a medical gown and allowed him to wash the vomit out of his hair in the bathroom sink which, according to McCann, was when they called the emergency in.
“Name’s Job Edwards,” he reads off the file held in his hands, “took too sharp a turn on the I-40 and slipped his bike under a twelve-wheeler. The, um, victim?” He hesitates as though unsure whether the title is suitable and holds the file out for the Detective to see for himself, “Both he and the bike were a total-loss. Declared dead upon arrival.” He pauses, still hesitant, and fails to meet West’s gaze as he adds, “… that was three days ago. They’re fetching his things from storage now.”
Outside, a cigarette burns idly between Job’s fingers as he holds his head in his hands. He does not greet nor look at the detective when he hears the morgue’s door push open, then gently click back shut; only wipes his eyes and nose over his knuckles and takes a long, slow drag off the cigarette.
Last edited:
