Husk
wears heelies to escape his feelies
PMing is the BEST way to get a hold of me as sometimes I miss notifications for comments.
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Wow, have you noticed the prominence of female roles? That's alright, let the ladies represent. However, for those seeking a person with inclinations towards male characters, well, I might be your pill.
I adore playing male characters. Why? Who knows.
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 play your fellow in 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'm not going to list interests here, as said, I will take a gander at any plot you can throw at me. If you're plot barren, that's alright; I have a massive list of pairings alongside some plots and seedlings of plots.
I have little to no triggers. Ask me about specific topics if you're unsure how I'll feel about them, I'm an open book.
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Now, how about some writing samples?
Writing Sample
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Wow, have you noticed the prominence of female roles? That's alright, let the ladies represent. However, for those seeking a person with inclinations towards male characters, well, I might be your pill.
I adore playing male characters. Why? Who knows.
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 play your fellow in 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'm not going to list interests here, as said, I will take a gander at any plot you can throw at me. If you're plot barren, that's alright; I have a massive list of pairings alongside some plots and seedlings of plots.
I have little to no triggers. Ask me about specific topics if you're unsure how I'll feel about them, I'm an open book.
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Now, how about some writing samples?
Writing Sample
The days piled together, and he carried the burden of remembering- picking through the slivers of a blurred memory. A sigh escaped him as he splashed frigid water onto his face, sinking into the bitter bite of the rivulets; minuscule rivers which helped force a gradual awakening from inebriation.
An emptiness yawned within him, digging deep, like a fanged maw. Sobriety. Such an immense and abrupt tug had him tumbling into it- inside, it also kindled the insatiable.
However, he maintained composure despite how tremors wracked his hands, chasing through his mind for the beginning. A vicious binge had occurred and Elias acknowledged it, embraced it, soon seethed with an ire over it he found pathetic. Overall, the ordeal was abnormal for him. Eli masqueraded the act of functioning with keen proficiency, so much so that many bought into his grand facade and he fed his beasts in secrecy.
Even he remained in awe of it, the sheer capability to dance to society’s tune while also slipping through the cracks, straight into utter misery; the rift between the lie and the truth stifled.
Sure, Elias bore the marring of track marks, except he shunned needles enough to attribute them to a past long since gone. Another story to weave so he might continue the delusion, fueling the denial.
Regardless of how he dabbled in numerous drug scenes, he knew alcohol had sent him spiraling this go-round. Of course, the friend he always returned to, loyal as a dog. The noose slackened around his neck.
The abstraction made Elias grit his teeth.
A fluorescent light flickered overhead. As it clung to life, it amplified the ambiance of the room, exposed and lit its decay. No one came here much. Not to this motel. Whatever regularity it once had trickled dry, and the empty melancholy suited its name.
The Blue Rooms.
Might be cutesy if not for its withering state, yet it had an allure. So ensnared in the motel’s odd gravitation, he had rented a room for a month. Thereafter looping Hotel California (it seemed à propos) and getting plastered before waking up and ruminating over his capricious life choices.
Similar to how he had awoken today, except he rode on the tail end of a chaotic bender.
Although hesitant, he looked into the mirror, scrutinizing and bitter. Oh, god, how he looked like a walking dumpster fire. Captured in the eye of some storm, awaiting the next inevitable plummet.
Another dive into a bottle.
Above the mirror, tacked to the wall, was a pamphlet. With trembling fingers, he pulled it off.
A scintilla of humor laced the entire situation. Between the downing of beers and the intoxication, he always pinned the damned pamphlet somewhere he would discover it when sober.
Printed in bold font- clear and cutting- was the word RECOVERY.
”Sure.”
Muttered after a wry chuckle, Elias sought something somewhere in the text with intensity. Only it surfaced, glaring. Not from the pages, but from remembrance. They kept the center running 24/7 and welcomed those struggling with addiction, and his breed of it was ravenous.
There were two options, another fork in an already serpentine road.
One he trod more than the other, and one he would traverse today.
With a tremendous heaviness, he scrambled to make himself presentable. Inside him, a perpetual war raged. The recognition of it bolstered a potent determination. If he idled, the cycle would reel him in. So, he moved with haste, while retaining repose.
To circle the drain clashed with getting his shit together, frankly.
Although he had to laugh. The center was next to the motel, walkable in distance with ease. Fortuitous for an alcoholic, no doubt. A hollowness seeped through him. Yeah, he had sobered 100% up.
Still, he forged onward. Not taking much with him, he slipped out into the midst of foul weather.
It bore winter’s nip, and he shivered, bracing himself against the frosty winds. When he reached the center, no trepidation tethered him, and he entered with a certain boldness.
Not his first stab at getting clean, and by now apathy consumed him. It carved Eli’s expression, embellished by the fatigue in his eyes; another rodeo. When no one greeted him, and the reverberation of talking bounced to where he stood, he hurried along.
”Ah, shit.”
They had begun. Elias slinked into the room where a collection of individuals gathered. Some faces were familiar and others new. When Elias saw him, however, he perked as the seat beside him was empty, and he, lackadaisical in his movements, sat beside him.
”Asher.”
Where had his life led him during their distance? Well, Elias knew he had not shaken the pungency of alcohol’s odor, nor had he tamed the wild look to his visage. No one needed to inquire where he had been. It wrote itself out like prose. Regardless, grinning like a Cheshire cat, he murmured to Asher, careful not to push his luck any further.
Some leniency existed within the room.
”Been a hot minute, hasn’t it?”
An emptiness yawned within him, digging deep, like a fanged maw. Sobriety. Such an immense and abrupt tug had him tumbling into it- inside, it also kindled the insatiable.
However, he maintained composure despite how tremors wracked his hands, chasing through his mind for the beginning. A vicious binge had occurred and Elias acknowledged it, embraced it, soon seethed with an ire over it he found pathetic. Overall, the ordeal was abnormal for him. Eli masqueraded the act of functioning with keen proficiency, so much so that many bought into his grand facade and he fed his beasts in secrecy.
Even he remained in awe of it, the sheer capability to dance to society’s tune while also slipping through the cracks, straight into utter misery; the rift between the lie and the truth stifled.
Sure, Elias bore the marring of track marks, except he shunned needles enough to attribute them to a past long since gone. Another story to weave so he might continue the delusion, fueling the denial.
Regardless of how he dabbled in numerous drug scenes, he knew alcohol had sent him spiraling this go-round. Of course, the friend he always returned to, loyal as a dog. The noose slackened around his neck.
The abstraction made Elias grit his teeth.
A fluorescent light flickered overhead. As it clung to life, it amplified the ambiance of the room, exposed and lit its decay. No one came here much. Not to this motel. Whatever regularity it once had trickled dry, and the empty melancholy suited its name.
The Blue Rooms.
Might be cutesy if not for its withering state, yet it had an allure. So ensnared in the motel’s odd gravitation, he had rented a room for a month. Thereafter looping Hotel California (it seemed à propos) and getting plastered before waking up and ruminating over his capricious life choices.
Similar to how he had awoken today, except he rode on the tail end of a chaotic bender.
Although hesitant, he looked into the mirror, scrutinizing and bitter. Oh, god, how he looked like a walking dumpster fire. Captured in the eye of some storm, awaiting the next inevitable plummet.
Another dive into a bottle.
Above the mirror, tacked to the wall, was a pamphlet. With trembling fingers, he pulled it off.
A scintilla of humor laced the entire situation. Between the downing of beers and the intoxication, he always pinned the damned pamphlet somewhere he would discover it when sober.
Printed in bold font- clear and cutting- was the word RECOVERY.
”Sure.”
Muttered after a wry chuckle, Elias sought something somewhere in the text with intensity. Only it surfaced, glaring. Not from the pages, but from remembrance. They kept the center running 24/7 and welcomed those struggling with addiction, and his breed of it was ravenous.
There were two options, another fork in an already serpentine road.
One he trod more than the other, and one he would traverse today.
With a tremendous heaviness, he scrambled to make himself presentable. Inside him, a perpetual war raged. The recognition of it bolstered a potent determination. If he idled, the cycle would reel him in. So, he moved with haste, while retaining repose.
To circle the drain clashed with getting his shit together, frankly.
Although he had to laugh. The center was next to the motel, walkable in distance with ease. Fortuitous for an alcoholic, no doubt. A hollowness seeped through him. Yeah, he had sobered 100% up.
Still, he forged onward. Not taking much with him, he slipped out into the midst of foul weather.
It bore winter’s nip, and he shivered, bracing himself against the frosty winds. When he reached the center, no trepidation tethered him, and he entered with a certain boldness.
Not his first stab at getting clean, and by now apathy consumed him. It carved Eli’s expression, embellished by the fatigue in his eyes; another rodeo. When no one greeted him, and the reverberation of talking bounced to where he stood, he hurried along.
”Ah, shit.”
They had begun. Elias slinked into the room where a collection of individuals gathered. Some faces were familiar and others new. When Elias saw him, however, he perked as the seat beside him was empty, and he, lackadaisical in his movements, sat beside him.
”Asher.”
Where had his life led him during their distance? Well, Elias knew he had not shaken the pungency of alcohol’s odor, nor had he tamed the wild look to his visage. No one needed to inquire where he had been. It wrote itself out like prose. Regardless, grinning like a Cheshire cat, he murmured to Asher, careful not to push his luck any further.
Some leniency existed within the room.
”Been a hot minute, hasn’t it?”
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