ambien
𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.
--ENTER THE WILD WEST.
✪ Howdy (it's my duty as a Texan to say howdy), I am Ambien or Amby.
a simple, sickly artist with a penchant for the arts, medicine, and psychology.
✪ Lately, and you may have seen this coming, I've delved into the wonderful world of RDR2. Thus, I crave Western-themed stories.
We needn't roleplay in the world of RDR, however, we can and we most certainly can draw inspiration from it, although never am I opposed to us creating our own world.
✪ I consider myself subjectively advanced, and I implore you to at least skim-read my writing sample so you can get a gist of my style and see if it's to your taste.
I am an avid plotter, character builder, and world creator. I can play a wide range of characters. i tend to lean towards male muses as mains but for sides, i can run anyone.
✪ I adore OOC, mood boards, playlists, and the like. I enjoy getting to know my partner and, even more, making friends, so I require some form of banter.
I've tried, and I can't connect well if we don't have any rapport.
✪ i do enjoy darker themes, or things that bring out the grit of reality, but i am not set in stone on this.
I enjoy romance, I won't lie. I have no particular triggers.
✪ We do not need to be historically correct to a T. I'm no historian, but I will research as need be. You don't have to; I'm not really particular about that.
I will also offer to write Arthur Morgan if we opt to enter the realm of fandom. He's a muse of mine, and I have the itch to play him.
so consider this a thread open to fandom and our creations.
✪ i am 30, so please be 20+, this is for my comfort.
✪ I require a certain amount of patience. Due to my meticulous nature, I am a slower writer.
i have bouts of illness from time to time but i communicate as well as i can. you are always welcome to ping or poke me. sometimes my medication makes me scattered and messages are missed.
I value life over roleplay and do not see it as an obligation but as a hobby. Therefore, I have no set timeframe for which you must reply. I am incredibly patient and easygoing in that regard.
as a plus, i'm ghost-friendly and i won't get salty about it either.
✪ I have plots spiraling in my head, but nothing has solidified, so I shall create a word bank of sorts.
let's dive in, pardners.
✪ rivalries, law versus outlaw, enemies to friends/lovers, the new kid on the block to an established gang, on the run, law working together to solve a mysterious string of murders, outlaws working together to solve a mysterious string of murders, betrayal, angst, grief, bounty hunters, rancher meets a retired or active outlaw on the run, ranch hand becomes wrapped into the gang by accident, classic Romeo and Juliet but with twists, a touch of the soulmate au, a form of government agents versus a struggling group of outlaws, inexperienced versus the experienced (this can be something from outlaws to the law to anything else), crime, dark twists, long lost lovers that are bitter and must break the walls of the other, the grieving meets a lone outlaw, two cowboys who become stuck together for whatever reason we imagine, and of course, more including your own ideas. ✪
PMs are preferred, but comments are acceptable.
And YEET, have a writing sample:
wolf teeth
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Fate is a perplexing notion, unfathomable even.
A supposed catalyst behind the roads one takes upon the meandrous journey of life, binding an individual to preordained chapters and paths.
Yet, Elias, shuddering as if enveloped by a glacial gust of wind, regarded it all as rubbish. Nothing drove anyone anywhere beyond themselves, each with their hands clasped to a steering wheel.
Or so he had thought.
A trail of smoke twirled in the air in plumes, and Elias, seated at the back of an old Greyhound bus, grappled with remaining poised, a cig held between two trembling fingers. An acute shot of sprawling pain surged through him, and he tautened, his jaw clenched until it ebbed away like briny waters pulling from the shore.
With a ragged, wry chortle, Elias deliberated as he took another drag, the acridity of the cigarette mollifying.
Why am I coming back?
What a question... The sting of the lacerations that marred Eli's chest flared again as if to emphasize the inquiry. Unable to settle on an answer, Elias felt astray.
The wounds he bore, and the torn, tattered shirt that covered them stayed hidden beneath an oversized, wintry jacket. It reminded him of the sheer gravity of the matters at hand.
An entire week had blurred together, melding in his mind until he scrambled to put disjointed slivers of any recollection of what had transpired in the correct order. Instead, to do so overwhelmed and suffocated him as if constricting his lungs in asphyxiation.
Unease stirred inside him, and the urge to savor the brisk, frigid air outside gnawed away at Elias; lord knows he needed the breather.
Despite his misery, he had crafted a feigned visage of normality during most of the trip. Stoicism was paramount, even if his nerves had long since frayed.
Overall, the beleaguered state of his affairs made him weary and stressed. Perhaps less than all that lay before him, dicey though it might be, his obstinacy would not let him falter from trepidation alone.
What fueled Elias forward proved an enigma, and as he stood, putting out his smoke, the Greyhound crept to a halt. Here he was, in the city that never sleeps, chasing a ghost of his past—all driven by impulse and compulsion, which confounded him.
Why this magnetism prevailed over logic or rationale, he knew not.
Regardless, Elias carried the burden of his misgivings on his shoulders, no matter how he continued onward, a limp in his stride. There was no telling how Alex would react to him coming to her doorstep without explanation and being injured. Visualizing their meeting made him grimace, even if he had missed her, and God, he had.
Their relationship must have fragility now.
Even if he had his reasons, he left her high and dry. He became part of the past while longing for a future that was never meant to happen.
After a long exhale, Elias scanned his surroundings and took in a bleak scene. Any hustle and bustle had died down in this sleepy city corner.
Meanwhile, Eli did not feel inclined to dwell upon how he knew to come here. An address tumbled in his head in a cyclic and bothersome loop.
Elias trudged on with blind knowledge of the verity within his directional sense, even though he last saw Alex Reyes in their hometown, which left him perturbed. All of it made him feel like an utter creep.
Hello, Alex, it's your old best friend who left you in the dust, somehow at your door. No stalker-y bullshit here.
God, he was so fucked.
Soon, he arrived at a complex near the bus stop leading to her apartment. It was then that Eli's heart began to thunder.
Still, despite his hesitance, Elias took the plunge and traversed the complex until he came to her door, rapping on it before buckling a tad under the pain he had bitten back. Somehow, he could discern this as her place; finding it took little.
To come here was the only choice for him.
Once he fled, he needed distance, and he sought it.
They would seek him out without end, but it would take a while to pin down his location. New York City was vast, spanning enough length for him to get well lost within.
A gamble overall, and his well of optimism had long since trickled dry.
While waiting, Elias reached for a cigarette and considered lighting it before putting it behind his ear.
Another odd habit. There was no way he considered himself presentable in appearance, the ebony tendrils of his hair tousled and wild. Meanwhile, the soft mottling of a bruise had formed beneath his left eye. Indeed, he looked as if he had been through it, and he had.
With a pensive gaze, he looked ahead, unsure what to expect from this endeavor.
The exchange of pleasantries, a blissful reunion?
Yeah, alright.
Yet, Eli recalled the old days, and a smidgen of sanguinity struck him.
They were once inseparable. Back then, if Elias could hear her brilliant laughter and see her smile, he would make it happen.
It dragged him away from the turbulence within his adoptive family, with him being just some kid from England punted to the States—the epitome of convolution. Before Elias left, he was on the cusp of asking her out after months of garnering the braves, all because it hit him one day that he had fallen for her in ways he pined to explore.
Except it had occurred, the incident.
Something unexplainable.
With a heaved sigh, Elias shuffled his weight to his other foot, time lapsing, leaving him with a yawning apprehension. The hair on his arms stood up, and a chill crawled the length of his spine. It was as though he knew she was near, and he focused on the peephole in the center of the door.
Elias bumbled for a moment, unable to form a sentence, and when he spoke, it was with a placative tentativeness.
"Alex, please, I-"
As he continued, he unzipped his coat, revealing a blood-sodden shirt with tears exposing two long gashes.
"I can't go to a hospital. You may hate my guts, and you'd be right to do so, but I never forgot."
Idled, Elias plucked the cigarette behind his ear and slotted it back into the carton, frazzled by his blundering.
"I can explain."
Could he? Sure, if he wanted to convey an impression of batshit insanity.
Even Elias himself felt bewildered by the sheer urgency that drove him. Whether it would get him anywhere was in Alex's hands.
What a fucking ordeal he had snagged himself within.╭┈◦•◦❥•◦
╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Fate is a perplexing notion, unfathomable even.
A supposed catalyst behind the roads one takes upon the meandrous journey of life, binding an individual to preordained chapters and paths.
Yet, Elias, shuddering as if enveloped by a glacial gust of wind, regarded it all as rubbish. Nothing drove anyone anywhere beyond themselves, each with their hands clasped to a steering wheel.
Or so he had thought.
A trail of smoke twirled in the air in plumes, and Elias, seated at the back of an old Greyhound bus, grappled with remaining poised, a cig held between two trembling fingers. An acute shot of sprawling pain surged through him, and he tautened, his jaw clenched until it ebbed away like briny waters pulling from the shore.
With a ragged, wry chortle, Elias deliberated as he took another drag, the acridity of the cigarette mollifying.
Why am I coming back?
What a question... The sting of the lacerations that marred Eli's chest flared again as if to emphasize the inquiry. Unable to settle on an answer, Elias felt astray.
The wounds he bore, and the torn, tattered shirt that covered them stayed hidden beneath an oversized, wintry jacket. It reminded him of the sheer gravity of the matters at hand.
An entire week had blurred together, melding in his mind until he scrambled to put disjointed slivers of any recollection of what had transpired in the correct order. Instead, to do so overwhelmed and suffocated him as if constricting his lungs in asphyxiation.
Unease stirred inside him, and the urge to savor the brisk, frigid air outside gnawed away at Elias; lord knows he needed the breather.
Despite his misery, he had crafted a feigned visage of normality during most of the trip. Stoicism was paramount, even if his nerves had long since frayed.
Overall, the beleaguered state of his affairs made him weary and stressed. Perhaps less than all that lay before him, dicey though it might be, his obstinacy would not let him falter from trepidation alone.
What fueled Elias forward proved an enigma, and as he stood, putting out his smoke, the Greyhound crept to a halt. Here he was, in the city that never sleeps, chasing a ghost of his past—all driven by impulse and compulsion, which confounded him.
Why this magnetism prevailed over logic or rationale, he knew not.
Regardless, Elias carried the burden of his misgivings on his shoulders, no matter how he continued onward, a limp in his stride. There was no telling how Alex would react to him coming to her doorstep without explanation and being injured. Visualizing their meeting made him grimace, even if he had missed her, and God, he had.
Their relationship must have fragility now.
Even if he had his reasons, he left her high and dry. He became part of the past while longing for a future that was never meant to happen.
After a long exhale, Elias scanned his surroundings and took in a bleak scene. Any hustle and bustle had died down in this sleepy city corner.
Meanwhile, Eli did not feel inclined to dwell upon how he knew to come here. An address tumbled in his head in a cyclic and bothersome loop.
Elias trudged on with blind knowledge of the verity within his directional sense, even though he last saw Alex Reyes in their hometown, which left him perturbed. All of it made him feel like an utter creep.
Hello, Alex, it's your old best friend who left you in the dust, somehow at your door. No stalker-y bullshit here.
God, he was so fucked.
Soon, he arrived at a complex near the bus stop leading to her apartment. It was then that Eli's heart began to thunder.
Still, despite his hesitance, Elias took the plunge and traversed the complex until he came to her door, rapping on it before buckling a tad under the pain he had bitten back. Somehow, he could discern this as her place; finding it took little.
To come here was the only choice for him.
Once he fled, he needed distance, and he sought it.
They would seek him out without end, but it would take a while to pin down his location. New York City was vast, spanning enough length for him to get well lost within.
A gamble overall, and his well of optimism had long since trickled dry.
While waiting, Elias reached for a cigarette and considered lighting it before putting it behind his ear.
Another odd habit. There was no way he considered himself presentable in appearance, the ebony tendrils of his hair tousled and wild. Meanwhile, the soft mottling of a bruise had formed beneath his left eye. Indeed, he looked as if he had been through it, and he had.
With a pensive gaze, he looked ahead, unsure what to expect from this endeavor.
The exchange of pleasantries, a blissful reunion?
Yeah, alright.
Yet, Eli recalled the old days, and a smidgen of sanguinity struck him.
They were once inseparable. Back then, if Elias could hear her brilliant laughter and see her smile, he would make it happen.
It dragged him away from the turbulence within his adoptive family, with him being just some kid from England punted to the States—the epitome of convolution. Before Elias left, he was on the cusp of asking her out after months of garnering the braves, all because it hit him one day that he had fallen for her in ways he pined to explore.
Except it had occurred, the incident.
Something unexplainable.
With a heaved sigh, Elias shuffled his weight to his other foot, time lapsing, leaving him with a yawning apprehension. The hair on his arms stood up, and a chill crawled the length of his spine. It was as though he knew she was near, and he focused on the peephole in the center of the door.
Elias bumbled for a moment, unable to form a sentence, and when he spoke, it was with a placative tentativeness.
"Alex, please, I-"
As he continued, he unzipped his coat, revealing a blood-sodden shirt with tears exposing two long gashes.
"I can't go to a hospital. You may hate my guts, and you'd be right to do so, but I never forgot."
Idled, Elias plucked the cigarette behind his ear and slotted it back into the carton, frazzled by his blundering.
"I can explain."
Could he? Sure, if he wanted to convey an impression of batshit insanity.
Even Elias himself felt bewildered by the sheer urgency that drove him. Whether it would get him anywhere was in Alex's hands.
What a fucking ordeal he had snagged himself within.╭┈◦•◦❥•◦
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