Other writing samples.

[fracturedpetals]

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i'm mostly trying to get my post numbers up so i can send messages easily.
so, i decided to post some of my past writing here as an easy link / reference for future RP partners!
this thread will be periodically updated the longer i use this site. so, the latest posts would be my latest writing!
would greatly appreciate it if you don't post in here ( ´ ▽ ` )b

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[fracturedpetals]

WRITING STYLE — 3rd POV, subjective. past tense. multi-para (average: 3 ~ 6+ paragraphs; 200 ~ 500+ words; 1000 ~ 3000+ characters). i categorise myself on the sliding scale of semi-lit ~ adv. lit.
LAST UPDATED — 120124
NOTES — want to focus more on quality over quantity. as well as avoid dialogue stacking.

 

[fracturedpetals]

Character — Miriam Berg.
Stats — 3356 characters; 606 words; literate.
Context — a full starter of an unlikely reunion between two childhood friends who became estranged after experiencing a horrific tragedy a decade ago.

The Berg household was located in what you could easily say is a suburban residential household. One of the nicer places in Soleil Levant, after its rebuilding that Miriam’s sister managed to nab for the entire family. Though, throughout the neighbourhood all of the houses looked the same: side by side attached houses, linked homes with the same roofs, same paint job, the same amount of space— it was cramped but big enough to fit a family that followed just right with housing regulation. The only difference was what type of car was parked and what type of number was placed at the front of the door. And if the residents were feeling spicy, the type of doormat could also be a differentiating factor.

It was the weekend, the sun was still out and it was peaceful. Until Miriam’s mother’s shrill voice had managed to pierce through her noise-cancelling headphones and the music she was listening to. By the tone, angry and perhaps exasperated with the hint of panic that seemed to come from the middle-aged woman, Miriam had stopped whatever she was doing. She had the customary argumentative conversation with her mother—

(What the hell do you wa—

What are you deaf? Do you know how lon—)

—before begrudgingly doing whatever the woman had wanted her to do in the first place. Supposedly, there was a weird salesman by the doorway, who wouldn’t take a no for an answer. And, the words of her mother, her ‘poor’ father was holding the fort. Her father was, by any means, not a short man. Miriam took more after her father, in a sense. He was tall, even taller than Miriam herself, and he was large, built stocky like her. But when she saw him by the doorway, his back hunched, as though he shrunk, and was trying to close the door subtly before opening it up again to the same small space he started with due to whatever the other person outside had said.

The blonde frowned at that. Her father was softer, if not more… absent in life than her mother was. If her mother had ran upstairs to sic the salesman at her instead of dealing it herself, then this must be one persistent fucker. Suffice to say, a dark cloud was casted over Miriam’s mood. Today was her day off and she couldn’t even get one day to herself. Her piercing glare met her father’s pale lilac eyes that were pleading and lit up when he saw it was her marching down the hallway.

He turned back to the door with a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Okay, listen, that’s great and all but give me a sec to just…”

When Miriam reached the door, he slipped out of there easily enough as though they were in a tag team and it was Miriam’s turn to enter the ring. Unlike her father, she pulled the door open to fully face whoever was on the other side.

“Oi,” Her voice was low and obviously irritated, piercing purple eyes squinting into a glare as her brows furrowed. “Whatever the fuck you’re selling here, we’re not interes—”

She stopped mid-sentence, looking at the man in front of her. Initially, mildly surprised he was around her height before actually looking at him and felt that there was something oddly familiar. She leaned in closer, hand covering her chin as she looked at him harder. Like that’ll click something in her brain. All intimidating posturing was gone, and the glare was replaced with eyes that held confusing. An eyebrow raised, she then asked, “... Vance? That you?”

 

[fracturedpetals]

Character — Jude King.

Stats — 3165 characters; 575 words; literate.
Context — hogwarts rp. roommates chat in their room after a rough quidditch practice. juju was a word-for-word copy paste from a partner's reply.

Her dark eyes followed Amora— the way her head had dangled over the edge of her bed, the ends of her dark hair now splayed on the wooden floors, the way her lips curved upwards instead of downwards (though, in Jude’s eyes this was seen as the opposite), each slight movement Jude had took note. Though, there wasn’t anything in her head when she stared at Amora. Sure, there was an intensity to her stare, a focusness that her roommate would normally see if she was eyeing an incoming chaser. But on the field, Jude relied mostly on instincts— fight or flight, tracking any slight movement and seeing if she could follow it through like a cat stalking its prey. Or, at the very least, predict it correctly. But she wasn’t on the field, there are no mildewed grass for her to run her hands through during a break nor was there any chaser in front of her. Instead, all she had were sore muscles, the softness of her bed, and a certain self-consciousness that came with her unflinching gaze and the stiffness in her joints.

Jude relaxed a bit. Her brain had decided to supplant her with actual information rather than leave her in silence like an animal getting ready to pounce. Smiles and nods, are all good signs. Her words did not offend her roommate, and there was relief in that. It came in the form of her back slightly curving into a slouch as though to keep the same eye level with Amora’s dangling head.

Then, something unexpected came.

”— Juju—”

Jude could only blink before her eyes widened in surprise. The rest of her face was unmoved, stiff as a board. If an everyday tour in Jude’s brain was quaint elevator music, then the music had just stopped. The elevator shuddered, creaking to a sudden halt as well. The metaphorical fluorescent lights would flicker in confusion. Jude never really had a nickname, she’d been called variants of a patronising ‘kiddo’ or a gruff ‘girl’ but those weren’t things she’d call a nickname. Her mother used to call her Jenab, but that was a long time ago in a faraway land she’d scarcely remember.

But, this was good— like an olive branch being given to her. A compliment came from that, the tone was friendly.

The elevator’s lights shuddered awake. The music was back on.

The stillness in Jude’s face broke. Like the tip of an iceberg, or an avalanche incoming. She opened her mouth and closed it, before her brows slightly furrowed downward, as her gaze escaped from Amora’s own dark eyes. Her head moved along with her line of sight, turning her face ¾ and letting Amora see her ear— the tip of it was flushed red.

“... Thanks.” She opted to reply back, before seemingly forcing herself to look at Amora in the eyes again. Her hands were properly on top of her lap, gripping her thighs. She tilted her head to the right, an eyebrow raised in question but there was a gleam in her eyes. “... Mor… Mor?”

The avalanche came, as Jude’s stiff posture collapsed. She went down and low, as her back folded. The only thing keeping her up was a hand that covered half of her face. Jude let out a huff of air that suspiciously sounded like a breathless laugh. “Sorry— thanks for the compliment, but Juju? Kind of threw me off there.”