manatee
pathological people pleaser.
21+.
descriptive writing style.
longer replies (500+ please.)
OOC chat. (discord?)
PM only.
m/f pairings.
(bolded is who i would prefer to play.)
|forever can spare a minute
modern beauty and the beast meets crime lord
|a tale so dark yet fated
think vampire factions
stealing away her to get revenge
| a region of chaos and moonlight
ACTOR inspired - winter/summer court romance
(i wrote up an intro for this plot idea and never got to use it,
and have loose l o o s e plot ideas)
| we are all fools in love
modern pride & prejudice
lizzie & darcy
| when night comes
bloodthirsty vampire king x human
please feel free to suggest anything.
and i can play either gender!
| ACOTAR vibes | pride and prejudice | modernizing fairy tales | romance |
| secrets | conflict | slow burn | addictions | obsession | gods retelling |
| liars | con artists | bets | fate | hatred | denial | fated |
| set ups | love triangles | self-discovery |
| pride | redemption arcs | feuds |
| forbidden | mistakes |
| indebted | hope |
i will love you forever if you want to present me with a plot idea that ties in one or more of the above themes.
please feel free to suggest!
please don't be offended if i request a writing sample.
For some, life passes by slowly; it’s the counting of years, the counting of months, even down to the counting of the seconds. It’s the hellos and the goodbyes remembered, it’s the friends and the enemies of one lifetime, stretched along an achingly slow span. It’s the scraped knees to surgeries, the happiness to the tears. And even though life passes by slowly, for the human mind to remember every single, solitary detail, things are forgotten. The loss of a loved one is broken down to a day of all black and a mother crying. That break-up that kept them locked in a room for a week is remembered by a sudden waft of a familiar perfume, but then long forgotten almost as quickly as the memory past. The human mind is a peculiar thing, only remembering the bits and pieces – the parts of a whole. The average human is lucky. They get to forget. They get to fully forgive. And, when they least expect it, in the blink of an eye, life is gone.
And then there are the few. Their life carries on, uninterrupted by deaths. They can forget, oh how they think they can forget, but then an entire lifetime is brought back by a familiar street sign, or the familiar eyes of an individual. The eyes might not match the body the memory is attached to, but it’s the same soul. And in that instance of passing a stranger on a street corner, everything comes flooding back.
In all of his lives, he had never met someone who remembers. He liked to believe that he wasn’t the only one – that remembering was normal. That sometimes when he passed a stranger on the street they recognized his soul and were brought back to hundreds of years of lifetimes that they had lived through. He knew that people lived many lives, but the difference was the people who remembered. He wasn’t sure what made him remember, aside from the fact that most people were too caught up in the day to day struggle of life that they didn’t take to notice the stranger at the bus stop with them or the person ahead of them in line at the supermarket. They were moving too quickly to notice.
The sounds of a horse carriage outside his window caused Benjamin to wake promptly out of bed, sitting up quickly and leaning over to pull back the curtain from the window, his smile brightening as he realized his father was back from London. As he hopped out of bed, not bothering to light a candle because the dawn was shining in from his window, little boy feet barely avoided stepping on a scattering of blocks as he hurried out of his room and down the hallway to the staircase to meet his father. As he approached his nurse’s door, he slowed his running so he wouldn’t wake her. She made him keep his clothes clean and stand when a lady entered the room. She was strict and she hardly laughed, but even as a child he recognized that she loved him fiercely.
Once he greeted his father with a hug and was spun around he scurried down the empty hall, knowing good and well at his young age that they were privileged. His mother wore nice satin gowns and they had a nice terrace. His nurse told him stories about other people, about the times before, and when he looked straight into her large eyes, there was something there that racked a familiarity through his bones. However, his eight year old brain was moving too fast for him to wrap around it. He just knew that he knew his nurse, from somewhere before, and he didn’t just know her as Grace, but he knew her as another name that he couldn’t exactly remember.
Benjamin spent every moment of every day with Grace. He loved her dark curly hair, and he loved the way she laughed, and he loved the way when she smile she got those soft, just forming wrinkles beside her eyes .She was like his mother, because she took care of him. She scolded him when he tracked mud in the house, she hugged him when he fell, and she wrinkled her nose in pretend distaste when he’d find bugs crawling around in the backyard. She was his life, his constant, and nothing was ever going to take that away from him.
It was late one November evening when the first scatterings of the spots showed up. His mother had screamed in horror when the nurse showed them to her, and Benjamin had started crying, scared to death when he was locked up in his room, hearing scatterings of conversation about ‘the disease can spread’ and ‘but he’s just a little boy.’ What was wrong with him? His skin felt like it was on fire and he just wanted someone to hold him. Instead, his mother talked to him through the door and his father stayed away.
A few days later, when he was too tired to move and his skin was leaking mucus from the sores that were busted, his nurse joined him. She sat by his bed side, day in and day out and she vowed to never leave his side. Somehow Benjamin knew, he could see it in her eyes that she didn’t want to live without him. He knew that her being around him was making her susceptible, and yet she stayed. And right before Benjamin took his last breath, she held onto his hand, trying to hold back the tears as he spoke to her – his voice small and hushed from the sickness.
“Promise me, you’ll remember.”
“I will," she managed, as he finally gave up his fight.
As he watched her walk down the aisle, Owen’s stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. There she was, the love of his life – his lives. He would have known that dark hair in any time period, and those wide, friendly eyes that he could just fall into and remember every single thing. When he looked at her, he remembered everything. It all came rushing back, the carriages, the silk gowns, the fever and the spots. He remembered her risking it all, and even if she didn’t remember the specifics, it didn’t matter.
In this life he’d been just out of college when they’d met. Owen, as he was called this time around, was getting better at returning to the world. He always started off young, and he always had new parents. But at some point in the eighties, he had developed a system. He kept everything in the bank, that way, if he came into the world with a bad family, he could get out of it as soon as possible. He had documents tucked away, and college degrees, and any sort of papers that he could have possibly needed. Just to be on the safe side.
When he’d met her this time, as Sarah, he had been studying at the library when she’d managed to bump into his table, causing his hand to jerk and his pen to create a nice think line of ink across the page. He looked up to find not a human, but a stack of books in front of him, dark, loose curls peering around the edges of the books. When she began to apologize, Owen was waving her off, knowing it had been an accident. As she lowered the books to see what sort of damage she’d caused, his jaw dropped. There she was, standing before him again, looking gorgeous with her slightly messy hair and frazzled look in her eyes. He could see the flickering of remembrance in her eyes, but he watched her brush it off. That was okay, he could wait.
And he had waited. He’d taken her to multiple movies, to many low lighting restaurant dinners, and then one night, when she laid across his sofa, her nose in a book studying for her last final, she mentioned it.
“You know, I do believe I’ve seen you before.”
“Of course you have, dear. When you ruined my essay in the library.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed easily, glad to find her younger than him this time, but only by a few years. She was freshly into college and he was about to be freshly out. Owen could feel his heart racing at the possibility, and it took a lot of self-control to keep himself seated in his chair as she corrected him.
“No, no. Before. Almost like another life. When you were a boy. That’s crazy, right?” She was eyeing him, waiting on an answer, but all Owen could do was kneel at her side next to his couch, clutching onto her hand and making her set the book down. And it was that night, when they remembered together, and they made love for the first time – the only time – and Owen knew then and there it was a horrible idea to get her touch burned into his skin. Because he didn’t know when the next life together might come around, and he didn’t know if they’d been the same age, or if she’d remember. So he had to marry her. To make the most of this life.
For a while, he lost hope. Now that he was Daniel, and just beginning high school, he was trying to learn a new body and new raging hormones. He hadn’t quite learned to control himself in this life, and so when he saw her, leaned up against a locker, her ponytail swinging as she tilted her head back and laughed, he was a goner. Daniel didn’t even think that the guy standing across from her could be her boyfriend, so when he approached her and the older male told him to back off, he was shocked, his brown eyes widening slightly, but he did as he was told and backed off. She’d be by herself eventually.
It seemed like weeks went by before Daniel could see Lucy alone. He’d learned that her name was Lucy now, that she was running for class secretary, and that she was a senior, three years older than him. At that point he almost wondered if it was pointless to even try and tell her who he was. That he was Benjamin, and the few names that had been scattered between then and now, names she probably wouldn’t remember. And he was right. She wouldn’t remember. Not in this life. Or maybe he’d just bombarded her with everything so soon.
He was sitting with her in a coffee shop, and he was trying not to cry as she looked at him like he was a freak. He should have waited. His eagerness and new body had gotten the better of him, and he had just wanted to claim her as his own. Why couldn’t it be that easy in every life? Why couldn’t she always want him the way he wanted her?
She was speaking now, and Daniel tried to focus his attention back to her. “I’m sorry. You seem like a really sweet kid, but I don’t know a Benjamin. And you’re so young.” Shrugging lightly, she slid from the booth, her ponytail swinging like always and Daniel buried his head in his hands.
This life was easy for him. He’d had an amazing set of parents. He had gotten through high school beautifully - never mind that he’d had a couple dozen goes at it – and he was now planning on moving off to a nice college away from the small town he’d grown up in. For now, he concentrated on carrying a box of his things across the lawn towards his new student housing. This time he was planning on majoring in architecture. His degrees varied from business, to accounting, and once he’d tried his hand at art, but that year his life had been cut short in a car accident. He’d be more careful this time around, if only for this sake to finally live a full life.
For once in his life, he wasn’t focused on her. Ryland, as he was called this time around, had learned a long time ago, that sometimes she was meant to be a part of his life, and sometimes she wasn’t. And so far in this life, she hadn’t appeared. Sometimes he’d stand for a moment, transfixed by loose curls, or a swinging ponytail, but when he saw the eyes, he went back to what he’d been doing.
Sure he wanted her to be in this life, he wanted her in every single life he lived. For as long as he could remember – all the way back to Benjamin, he had wanted her. But, life was tricky. Sometimes when he wanted her the most, she didn’t want him. Or she wouldn’t remember him. It happened easily, over a shared glance across the subway, or a laugh at a joke that wasn’t meant for the two of them. But when she was in his life, she was in it. And he was sent reeling, falling for her hard every single time.
But this time, his motto was just to be patient. She would come to him, he could feel it. He couldn’t love anyone but her. He never had. Physically or mentally. He could still feel her touch from that night in his shitty apartment, where they’d made love and made memories, memories that only he seemed to remember. Ryland kept them locked safe in his mind, because in one life she’d be curious. It might be this one, or the next. But he could feel it. She was going to see him, and she was going to wonder. She might not know right away, like he would, but she would sense something about him that would draw her near.
And then there are the few. Their life carries on, uninterrupted by deaths. They can forget, oh how they think they can forget, but then an entire lifetime is brought back by a familiar street sign, or the familiar eyes of an individual. The eyes might not match the body the memory is attached to, but it’s the same soul. And in that instance of passing a stranger on a street corner, everything comes flooding back.
In all of his lives, he had never met someone who remembers. He liked to believe that he wasn’t the only one – that remembering was normal. That sometimes when he passed a stranger on the street they recognized his soul and were brought back to hundreds of years of lifetimes that they had lived through. He knew that people lived many lives, but the difference was the people who remembered. He wasn’t sure what made him remember, aside from the fact that most people were too caught up in the day to day struggle of life that they didn’t take to notice the stranger at the bus stop with them or the person ahead of them in line at the supermarket. They were moving too quickly to notice.
The sounds of a horse carriage outside his window caused Benjamin to wake promptly out of bed, sitting up quickly and leaning over to pull back the curtain from the window, his smile brightening as he realized his father was back from London. As he hopped out of bed, not bothering to light a candle because the dawn was shining in from his window, little boy feet barely avoided stepping on a scattering of blocks as he hurried out of his room and down the hallway to the staircase to meet his father. As he approached his nurse’s door, he slowed his running so he wouldn’t wake her. She made him keep his clothes clean and stand when a lady entered the room. She was strict and she hardly laughed, but even as a child he recognized that she loved him fiercely.
Once he greeted his father with a hug and was spun around he scurried down the empty hall, knowing good and well at his young age that they were privileged. His mother wore nice satin gowns and they had a nice terrace. His nurse told him stories about other people, about the times before, and when he looked straight into her large eyes, there was something there that racked a familiarity through his bones. However, his eight year old brain was moving too fast for him to wrap around it. He just knew that he knew his nurse, from somewhere before, and he didn’t just know her as Grace, but he knew her as another name that he couldn’t exactly remember.
Benjamin spent every moment of every day with Grace. He loved her dark curly hair, and he loved the way she laughed, and he loved the way when she smile she got those soft, just forming wrinkles beside her eyes .She was like his mother, because she took care of him. She scolded him when he tracked mud in the house, she hugged him when he fell, and she wrinkled her nose in pretend distaste when he’d find bugs crawling around in the backyard. She was his life, his constant, and nothing was ever going to take that away from him.
It was late one November evening when the first scatterings of the spots showed up. His mother had screamed in horror when the nurse showed them to her, and Benjamin had started crying, scared to death when he was locked up in his room, hearing scatterings of conversation about ‘the disease can spread’ and ‘but he’s just a little boy.’ What was wrong with him? His skin felt like it was on fire and he just wanted someone to hold him. Instead, his mother talked to him through the door and his father stayed away.
A few days later, when he was too tired to move and his skin was leaking mucus from the sores that were busted, his nurse joined him. She sat by his bed side, day in and day out and she vowed to never leave his side. Somehow Benjamin knew, he could see it in her eyes that she didn’t want to live without him. He knew that her being around him was making her susceptible, and yet she stayed. And right before Benjamin took his last breath, she held onto his hand, trying to hold back the tears as he spoke to her – his voice small and hushed from the sickness.
“Promise me, you’ll remember.”
“I will," she managed, as he finally gave up his fight.
As he watched her walk down the aisle, Owen’s stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. There she was, the love of his life – his lives. He would have known that dark hair in any time period, and those wide, friendly eyes that he could just fall into and remember every single thing. When he looked at her, he remembered everything. It all came rushing back, the carriages, the silk gowns, the fever and the spots. He remembered her risking it all, and even if she didn’t remember the specifics, it didn’t matter.
In this life he’d been just out of college when they’d met. Owen, as he was called this time around, was getting better at returning to the world. He always started off young, and he always had new parents. But at some point in the eighties, he had developed a system. He kept everything in the bank, that way, if he came into the world with a bad family, he could get out of it as soon as possible. He had documents tucked away, and college degrees, and any sort of papers that he could have possibly needed. Just to be on the safe side.
When he’d met her this time, as Sarah, he had been studying at the library when she’d managed to bump into his table, causing his hand to jerk and his pen to create a nice think line of ink across the page. He looked up to find not a human, but a stack of books in front of him, dark, loose curls peering around the edges of the books. When she began to apologize, Owen was waving her off, knowing it had been an accident. As she lowered the books to see what sort of damage she’d caused, his jaw dropped. There she was, standing before him again, looking gorgeous with her slightly messy hair and frazzled look in her eyes. He could see the flickering of remembrance in her eyes, but he watched her brush it off. That was okay, he could wait.
And he had waited. He’d taken her to multiple movies, to many low lighting restaurant dinners, and then one night, when she laid across his sofa, her nose in a book studying for her last final, she mentioned it.
“You know, I do believe I’ve seen you before.”
“Of course you have, dear. When you ruined my essay in the library.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed easily, glad to find her younger than him this time, but only by a few years. She was freshly into college and he was about to be freshly out. Owen could feel his heart racing at the possibility, and it took a lot of self-control to keep himself seated in his chair as she corrected him.
“No, no. Before. Almost like another life. When you were a boy. That’s crazy, right?” She was eyeing him, waiting on an answer, but all Owen could do was kneel at her side next to his couch, clutching onto her hand and making her set the book down. And it was that night, when they remembered together, and they made love for the first time – the only time – and Owen knew then and there it was a horrible idea to get her touch burned into his skin. Because he didn’t know when the next life together might come around, and he didn’t know if they’d been the same age, or if she’d remember. So he had to marry her. To make the most of this life.
For a while, he lost hope. Now that he was Daniel, and just beginning high school, he was trying to learn a new body and new raging hormones. He hadn’t quite learned to control himself in this life, and so when he saw her, leaned up against a locker, her ponytail swinging as she tilted her head back and laughed, he was a goner. Daniel didn’t even think that the guy standing across from her could be her boyfriend, so when he approached her and the older male told him to back off, he was shocked, his brown eyes widening slightly, but he did as he was told and backed off. She’d be by herself eventually.
It seemed like weeks went by before Daniel could see Lucy alone. He’d learned that her name was Lucy now, that she was running for class secretary, and that she was a senior, three years older than him. At that point he almost wondered if it was pointless to even try and tell her who he was. That he was Benjamin, and the few names that had been scattered between then and now, names she probably wouldn’t remember. And he was right. She wouldn’t remember. Not in this life. Or maybe he’d just bombarded her with everything so soon.
He was sitting with her in a coffee shop, and he was trying not to cry as she looked at him like he was a freak. He should have waited. His eagerness and new body had gotten the better of him, and he had just wanted to claim her as his own. Why couldn’t it be that easy in every life? Why couldn’t she always want him the way he wanted her?
She was speaking now, and Daniel tried to focus his attention back to her. “I’m sorry. You seem like a really sweet kid, but I don’t know a Benjamin. And you’re so young.” Shrugging lightly, she slid from the booth, her ponytail swinging like always and Daniel buried his head in his hands.
This life was easy for him. He’d had an amazing set of parents. He had gotten through high school beautifully - never mind that he’d had a couple dozen goes at it – and he was now planning on moving off to a nice college away from the small town he’d grown up in. For now, he concentrated on carrying a box of his things across the lawn towards his new student housing. This time he was planning on majoring in architecture. His degrees varied from business, to accounting, and once he’d tried his hand at art, but that year his life had been cut short in a car accident. He’d be more careful this time around, if only for this sake to finally live a full life.
For once in his life, he wasn’t focused on her. Ryland, as he was called this time around, had learned a long time ago, that sometimes she was meant to be a part of his life, and sometimes she wasn’t. And so far in this life, she hadn’t appeared. Sometimes he’d stand for a moment, transfixed by loose curls, or a swinging ponytail, but when he saw the eyes, he went back to what he’d been doing.
Sure he wanted her to be in this life, he wanted her in every single life he lived. For as long as he could remember – all the way back to Benjamin, he had wanted her. But, life was tricky. Sometimes when he wanted her the most, she didn’t want him. Or she wouldn’t remember him. It happened easily, over a shared glance across the subway, or a laugh at a joke that wasn’t meant for the two of them. But when she was in his life, she was in it. And he was sent reeling, falling for her hard every single time.
But this time, his motto was just to be patient. She would come to him, he could feel it. He couldn’t love anyone but her. He never had. Physically or mentally. He could still feel her touch from that night in his shitty apartment, where they’d made love and made memories, memories that only he seemed to remember. Ryland kept them locked safe in his mind, because in one life she’d be curious. It might be this one, or the next. But he could feel it. She was going to see him, and she was going to wonder. She might not know right away, like he would, but she would sense something about him that would draw her near.
Last edited:
Masterfully written.
