squids
☼ + ☽
HONEY BUNCH.
hello, i am squids. it's very nice to meet you.
just to be clear, this is not my first rodeo. i am a seasoned rper (8+ years) and a prior member of this site. i decided to make a new account after much deliberation, post literal months of being filled to the brim with longing for a fresh start. i'm hoping that this will be the gentle nudge i need to reignite my love for writing and roleplaying. no pressure or anything : P
a bit about me:
- squids | 23 | female (she/her)
- i consider myself to be mostly literate, though i do have a mild case of dyslexia, and therefore urge all potential partners to exercise patience with me as i further develop my writing. that being said, i am highly confident in my writing ability and will be providing a writing sample on the last tab of this search (depending on my partner's comfort level and the general tone of the rp, i average between 3-10 paragraphs per post, usually leaning towards the lengthier side of things). i genuinely enjoy all aspects of roleplay, and worldbuilding is one of my favorite things in the entire universe. moreover, if lengthy replies and worldbuilding doesn't sound like something you'd be interested in, please click off this search now.
- i am familiar with how this site works, and while i might not know how to pull a code out of my ass like some of the other magicians here, i do know how to fill one out. i can't promise that all of my replies will be grammatically correct but they will at least be properly formatted and aesthetically pleasing.
- i am willing to provide a reply once every one to two weeks. sometimes less, sometimes more. i realize that this may be deemed slow by conventional means, but as it stands this is all my schedule currently allows for. i have a job and a social life to balance on top of this, and if there's one thing this site has taught me over the years it's that you shouldn't bite off more than you can chew. if we happen to engage in an rp and i go unresponsive for two weeks or more, i urge you to simply shoot me a pm. chances are you just caught me at a busy time and i'd be more than happy to continue. that being said, i will do my absolute best to give you fair warning should responses be especially slow.
- no need to notify me if you've suddenly lost interest; i promise i won't be hurt in the slightest. i am extremely ghost friendly, and have been known to fall off rp's unexpectedly in the past myself. if this intimidates you in the least, i am not the partner for you.
- i am a huge kpop fan, and will mainly use idols/actresses as my fcs.
a bit about you:
- i will not engage in roleplay with any person under the age of 18.
- though it is not pertinent, i would prefer if my partner shared some similar interests with me.
- i am not only looking to rp, but to collaborate and build upon ideas with my parter. as i said before, worldbuilding is literally the butter to my bread. i simply cannot live without it. i appreciate anyone who brings ideas to the table, no matter how 'bad' they may be. please do not be afraid to share any and all ideas you have with me. i am eternally receptive to brain vomit.
- i will not cover topics such as/pertaining to rape/non-con, underage, gore, etc at any time during our roleplay.
topics/themes/fandoms of interest:
- lgbtq+ friendly plots are generally a must
- kpop/krp (with specific interest in groups such as red velvet, ateez, stray kids and many more that i might be inclined to tell you if you ask)
- jojo's bizarre adventures
- soul eater
- supernatural themes (mainly just witch aus)
- college roommates aus
- arranged marriage tropes
- whump tropes
- enemies to lovers tropes
- royalty au
- slow burns
- angst is fantastic and no one can convince me otherwise
- actually no that's it just give me angst
i can’t love you in the darkmuse a has chronic migraines. they have dealt with it all their life, and will likely deal with it for the rest of their life, too. muse b, muse a’s lifelong friend, is seemingly the only one who knows how to deal with them– probably even better than muse a themselves. they are always prepared with a hot or cold compress, water, and even carry a bit of muse a’s medication for emergencies. muse a knows that they can always rely on muse b. that is, until one day muse b introduces muse a to their new partner, and muse a can slowly feel them start to drift away. suddenly, the migraines start to get worse and worse, and they don’t really know why. it takes them a bit to realize just how much they’ve depended on muse b throughout the years, and just how much they’ve come to need them at the end of the day (for more reasons than just to deal with the migraines).
betcha we are destiny (gonna get ya)muse a hates christmas, and who can really blame them? dogged by hardship since birth, they haven’t exactly had the happiest childhood, and the holiday always seems to fall somewhere between hope and misery. now an adult, muse a is determined not to share their trauma with the rest of the world. that’s exactly why they agree to go to their good friend’s christmas party on christmas eve, despite the fact that they would much rather be in bed crying. after getting a couple of drinks in them, muse a is feeling sociable and pleasantly buzzed. they meet muse b, a colleague of muse a’s good friend, and hit it off immediately. muse b is charismatic and entertaining, just what muse a needs to survive the night. after some time talking and sipping spiked cider, muse a is feeling a little more than buzzed. muse b notices and offers to escort muse a to the couch so they can sit down, but soon after they embark muse a notices mistletoe above the door and halts in their tracks. this is surely a sign from the universe, and muse a is drunk and happy– they politely ask muse b to kiss them, as per tradition, and they are shocked to find muse b (who is sober, mind you) isn’t in any position to refuse.
this is what i can give to you (this is all i have)muse a works for their local library. they process book returns and file them neatly away, back on the shelves where they belong. they take pride in their job, as it is simple and enjoyable– just the kind of thing they need to get them through school. one day, while muse a is checking returned books for damages, a note falls from between the pages of a specific novel. it’s a note addressed directly to muse a. shell shocked, they read it over. at first glance, it appears to be a simple love note, and it seems that this is just the beginning. almost sporadically, muse a begins to find notes addressed to them in random books. they’ve tried everything they can to trace them back to someone (anyone) to no avail. with all of their resources exhausted, muse a almost gives up on finding the author of the notes, until one specific day when a storm hits their region. muse a is usually the last to leave the library after their shift, and so it makes sense that no one else is there when the power goes out– or so they thought. after realizing they are stuck in the library, they discover muse b, a quiet and kind library-goer who always seems to fade into the background but has never gone unnoticed by muse a, and muse b seems to know a lot more about the notes than they’re letting on.
WRITING SAMPLESan shifts under the intensity of the lights overhead, his skin prickling from the warmth. It was uncomfortable to say the least, with tiny beads of perspiration pooling at the base of his neck. He drags his palm over the afflicted area to clear up some of the moisture, a grimace overtaking his features at the feeling of slick sweat sticking to his fingers. He eventually ends up wiping the offended hand on his jeans. It leaves a pretty noticeable damp spot, to his mild horror.
well actually it's just an excerpt from an ateez fanfic i never finished writing oops enjoy
"Is this really necessary?" San whines, finally moving away from the sweltering spotlights. Without the squadron of tiny suns attacking his senses and his sweat glands, he could now clearly see the rest of the room, previously obscured, and the other two males occupying it. Yeosang hasn't bothered to look up from his phone from his place on San's couch (by the windows and away from the brutal lights), which was typical but still made San's blood boil for some reason. Maybe it was just that it was already boiling, in the most literal sense.
Yunho, sat smack dab in the middle of the room on one of San's bar stools, at least had the courtesy to look up from the digital screen of the fancy pants camera in his hands. He fixes San with a sympathetic, albeit somewhat condescending, look.
"You're almost done, I promise," Yunho reassures him before zoning back in on the digital screen. He makes quick work of flitting through the raw images, eyes raking over each one appraisingly.
San groans pitifully. "No, I mean--" he gestures wildly to the array of beaming lights mounted on long poles all about his living room. Some were even attached to the walls and ceiling. All together, counting the smaller ones, there were thirteen. Thirteen. "Is this necessary?"
Yunho looks up again and blinks slowly. "... I don't follow."
San shifts his weight onto his back foot and tilts his face upwards, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. His frustration was building with each passing moment. "The lights, Yunho."
Yunho makes a soft noise of understanding, eyeing the set up with round eyes. Realization seemed to dawn on him. It had taken the trio three hours to finish preparing the set for Yunho's impromptu shoot, the bulk of which was taken up by the lights. He nods his head a couple of times, fixes San with the most sympathetic look, and then whispers in full earnest, "What about them?"
San feels a sharp pain right above his left eye and thinks he might need to relax for a moment. He doesn't respond at first, too afraid he might work himself into another stress induced migraine. Contrary to popular belief, San happened to be a fairly busy man, between work and class and his sad excuse for a social life (mostly work and class). He has other things to do today aside from putting up with Yunho's shit.
"I thought you said my apartment has the best lighting," San explains slowly. Yunho seems to be hanging onto every word. San kind of wants to stick tampons up his nose. At least then he'll look as stupid as he is.
"It does," Yunho affirms. He blinks, lips pursed as if to say, and?
"What did I do to deserve this?" San laments. He has developed a twitch in his left eye. It seems pretty severe at first, but after a brief moment of prodding and rubbing (to which Yeosang exclaims, "Mess up your makeup and you die a slow, painful death.") he manages to dull it.
He takes a deep breath, and then another just like his therapist in highschool taught him. "What I mean is, if the lighting in my apartment is good, why do we need thirteen fucking lights?"
Yunho wrinkles his nose at him, brows furrowed slightly. The corners of his mouth quirk down into an obvious frown. "Jeez, you're cranky today."
Over on the couch, Yeosang snickers. New waves of heat, ones formed completely independently of the lights, flood San's cheeks and neck. Yunho must see this, because his frown softens until he looks equally as endeared as he is offended.
"Listen, kiddo. Photography is an art form, one that I take very seriously. I don't settle for anything less than perfect-- and I said the lighting here was good, but I didn't say it was perfect," Yunho stops to drag his hand through the air, gesturing to the vast array of lights. "These make it perfect."
San feels something inside of him snap. He inhales sharply, aiming his gaze skyward, the bridge of his nose pinched between his index finger and thumb. "I can't handle this. It's just... too much."
"You're so dramatic," Yunho scoffs, making a quick show of the way he rolls his eyes. It was truly fortunate San's eyes were burning holes into the hollow piece of metal dangling precariously from his ceiling, because if they weren't and San beheld this spectacle, he might have gone and done something stupid like cry or sweat right through his grotesquely expensive satin turtleneck. That would have been catastrophic.
"When has our Sannie ever been anything but dramatic?" Yeosang points out, his low voice sounding very flat, which conflicts with the sheer volume of unadulterated sass packed into the statement. San pegs him with a look radiating with heat, to which Yeosang responds by scrunching up his nose and sticking out his tongue. It's the kind of thing that just looks so dumb (and cute) that it makes the blazing fire in San's chest fizzle out almost completely. It just goes to show that no one could ever stay mad at Yeosang for too long.
Yunho captures his attention once more in the way that he shifts atop the stool. He angles his body away from San slightly, and tilts the camera so that the other could see the image displayed on the screen. After a brief moment of fidgeting with the buttons and switching back and forth between a few images, Yunho looks up at San expectantly.
"Come look," he demands, eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge, as if they were daring San to try and complain about his set up again. "Come see why we need thirteen fucking lights."
San bites down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep himself from swearing. It takes great effort, but he manages to somehow keep himself together as he sidles on up beside Yunho. Tentatively, and rather begrudgingly, San leans in so that he could peer at the screen over his oldest friend's shoulder.
Yunho flits through a couple of pictures, all of San standing against a backdrop in slightly different positions. He has to squint to see for the most part, but you'd really need to be blind not to see how remarkable the quality was. San was illuminated beautifully in each one, the angles of his face highlighted perfectly. That compared with with the makeup that Yeosang had done on him had him looking like a Greek God (and this was him being modest).
He had to admit, the pictures were immaculate, and he's beginning to realize that maybe sweating under a couple of lights is a small price to pay for Yunho's genius.
San sniffs and adjusts his collar, resolutely looking away from the screen. Yunho smirks knowingly, setting the camera down in his lap.
"See?" Yunho crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing else. He doesn't need to. His eyes say it all.
"Whatever," San huffs, defeated. It's all he can force himself to say. Even just the thought of admitting to Yunho that his lights were cool and made him look like a porcelain statue made San want to crawl in a ditch and die. It was simply too much.
San turns and begins to make his way back over to his spot underneath the lights, feeling utterly dejected. Curse Yunho and his excellent photography skills. He's about halfway there when his phone buzzes in his pocket and he stops dead in his tracks, fingers immediately fumbling to unearth the device. It buzzes twice more in his hands before he has a chance to look. He glances at the screen, a bright smile appearing on his face once he sees the source of the notifications. He quickly unlocks it and taps on the messages.
{w00} 12:31pm
found out last night that i'm allergic to melons :///
which SUCKS because i also found out that i LOVE melons.
anyway hello it's not morning anymore but i just woke up so good morning
San, bless him, giggles sweetly while reading this, his characteristically sour attitude vanishing into thin air. Yeosang's attention is ripped away from his phone instantaneously and he blinks upward owlishly. He stares at his dear friend half in shock, half in mild horror. It wasn't the first time San had done something like this, one would say he was even prone to acting cute, if not only just to get what he wants. It was just so abrupt and odd that Yeosang couldn't help be caught off guard by it.
Yunho is in no better shape. He had taken to glaring up at his friend from his stool with reproach, mildly incredulous. It was as if his near lifelong friend had vanished and was replaced by a giggling alien, something he couldn't quite wrap his head around.
But San paid no mind to the other two in the room, staring resolutely at his screen. He finished his trek back to where he was before beneath the lights, all the while fingers flying to form a reply.
{s@n} 12:32 pm
lolol good morning
how did this come about?
San pockets his phone once more, that dopey smile lingering on his face too long for Yunho's liking. The sheer force of the lights beating down on him obscures most of his field of view, so he naturally misses the way his friends stare at him like he's grown and extra head. "Alright, let's continue. I want to get this over with before two. I've got shit to do."
There's a beat of silence, then Yeosang interjects, sounding quite worried, "Who are you? And what have you done with Choi San?"
"What?" San blinks, taken aback.
"I was about to say the same," Yunho huffs, much to San's utter confusion. It wasn't exactly uncommon for his friends to gang up on him out of nowhere, but it was usually about something menial, like the way he picks his teeth after eating or his plushie collection. He feels like he's missing something here.
"You saw that right?" Yeosang asks in a hushed tone, as if he was trying to not let San hear. He fails, but San thinks that might have been the point.
"Unfortunately," Yunho confirms. There's a brief moment of silence, then San hears some shuffling. He can't see much thanks to the lights beaming straight into his eye sockets and it's scarier than he could have ever imagined. "Should we...?"
Suddenly, Yeosang appears at San's side. Underneath the lights, San could see every minute detail of his face, from his birth mark to the dark circles under his eyes to the skin flaking off his bottom lip. His expression is more or less blank, but his eyes are narrow and scrutinizing.
San has never been more confused in his life. "What the hell? Where did you come from?"
"You don't get to ask questions," Yeosang says rather seriously. "Not until I have my answers."
There's some shuffling to his right, and then (to his delight) all thirteen lights power down at once. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they do he sees Yunho standing by the outlet, detached plug in hand, staring at him with something he could only describe as wary curiosity, much like a young boy trying a new food for the first time without knowing whether or not he'd like it.
He starts to feel a bit nervous, dread slowly sinking to the pit of his stomach and settling there. How he had managed to capture both of his friends attention so quickly is a mystery to him but he knows he has every reason to be anxious about it. His friends are ruthless to say the least. Was there something on his face? Did he actually mess up his makeup when he rubbed his eyes earlier?
Then it dawns on him. His hand flies to his pocket where his phone rests and hovers there, protective.
This only seems to pique Yeosang's interest all the more. The blonde goes from subtly scrutinizing to openly incredulous in a matter of seconds.
"What the hell?" San squeaks, eyes flitting between Yeosang and Yunho frantically. "What is this?"
"You tell us," Yunho challenges. He drops the cord to the ground and slowly stalks over where San and Yeosang are. San is now sweating for an entirely different reason. "I've never seen you giggle at your phone like that. It's suspicious."
"Yeah," Yeosang chimes in. "You're hiding something from us. I can feel it."
Realizing he's been cornered and there's no chance of escape whatsoever (not with Yunho's mile long legs), San gives up before he even begins. There's really no use trying to give them the run around. Yeosang has been his friend since high school and Yunho since kindergarten. They both know him inside and out. They can read him like a book.
That, and San has always been a terrible liar. He can't think of any way he can spin this and make it believable. He's dug his own grave and now he must lie in it.
"Alright, you monsters," He yells, huffing indignantly. He feels his phone vibrate again his pocket, that traitorous thing, further condemning him.
me
you
cravings
plots
sample
code by low fidelity.
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