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Hi, my name is Vampiress! A bit about myself can be found below.
- I've been writing for 15+ years, give or take!
- I write in the 3rd person, typically in past tense, though sometimes a mix of both past and present tense can occur. I don't write in the 1st person.
- I consider myself to be a fairly literate writer. My posts range between 400 to 1,500 words, I will almost never write under 400 words. Sometimes my posts can be lengthy if called for.
- I post almost daily when possible. I am a full-time student working on my graduate degree. If things get busy, my posts may come every other day. If it's going to be longer than a day or two, I will let you know!
- All of my stories involve romance, it is my bread and butter. That is not to say my stories are focused on smut and I don't want them to be. If I had to give a ratio for story/smut, I would say my stories average 70/30, though sometimes stories have less smut and fall around 90/10.
- I only have a few hard limits. Anything in the bathroom is a no for me. Also, I do not write non-con unless it is relevant to the background of a character, but it will not be a “played out” scene. Just a post with backstory and likely not very detailed.
- Anything else I prefer to discuss via messages with my writing partner!
- Many of my stories tend to involve darker themes. Violence, drug use, self-harm, blood, death (of non-main characters), etc.
A few things I would like from my partner!
- I know real life comes first. However, extremely long waits make it difficult to maintain a muse for the character(s). Once a week is what I generally ask for, though I myself am more active. If you are, too, that's great! If not, I understand and the once weekly is fine! Please just give me the same respect I will give you, and let me know if you’re going to be unable to write for extended amounts of time.
- Please be semi-literate. Nobody is perfect, but I need to be able to understand what I'm reading for the story to progress!
- Post length: Please, no one liners/singular paragraphs. I provide posts of decent length/substances, and need my partners to write somewhat similarly. This isn't to say thousands of words, but if it starts falling under 300 per post consistently (not including the occasional shorter post) then it doesn't give much to respond to and I can find myself losing muse for the character(s).
- Please let me know if you have any limitations of your own regarding things you don't wish to write or have played out! I want everyone to enjoy the story and be comfortable writing it.
With all of that being said, I look forward to writing with anyone interested in the characters/brief plot ideas listed below!
Name: Rook Arawn
Gender: Male
Age: Appears as a male in his late 20s/mid 30s. Has been in existence for hundreds of years.
Species: Deity of the Dead; Psychopomps
Pairing: MxF
Psychopomps: Those who guide the spirits of the dead. In the human world, there are many names for them– Grim Reaper, the valkyries, the Ferryman of Norse mythology, Death, and more.
Backstory
Rook had been a creature of many names, and many faces. He had existed in a world between the dead and the living, for dozens of lifetimes over. How his existence had come to be, Rook could not remember. It was if he had simply been blinked into reality, existing in a space where he once had not. Throughout the changes of the mortals, Rook had changed forms, becoming what it was that people wanted to see as their souls were ushered from the land of the living, to the realm of the dead. If Heaven and Hell were real, Rook could not say; he did not know. It was not his place.
As times moved forward and the world industrialized, the image that Rook appeared as the most, was another human. Therefore, Rook had grown familiar with taking on the form of a male human. Though, somewhere along the lines, Rook’s detached demeanor started to change shape. It was not his purpose to care or feel attached to the souls he aided in their travels, but there were exceptions to every rule, were there not? If it was not an exception, then it would have to be an anomaly.
Rook had guided hundreds of thousands of men, women, children, and elderly through the space between life and death. Out of all of the souls he had encountered, Rook had not found himself fond of any of them. Indifferent would be the best word to summarize. The dead needed to be taken into the afterlife, and somebody or something, had to do it. Still, when Rook encountered a soul whose love for the partner they had left behind was so strong that it radiated from them, Rook found himself moved. There was love, and then there was the soulbound nature between two people, and for whatever reason, Rook had broken the rules. Instead of taking the soul across a lake of shadow and void, he had taken them back towards the light that was life. It had been that person’s time, and Rook had just altered the course.
What consequences it would have for the couple, Rook did not know. He had never taken a soul back to the land of those still living, allowing it to rejoin with the body it had departed. However, there were consequences for Rook. While he might have been summoned into existence, Rook had a solid foothold in the living world, after spending time traversing between it and the land of the dead. If nature or the Gods, or whatever beings had formed his existence, wanted him gone, then somebody would have to get their hands dirty. It also meant that Rook, a psychopomps, was now trapped within the land of the living. The powers that controlled the land of the dead, were not as easily moved into the land of those still living. It was not in their nature, unlike Rook, whose nature was to be able to exist in either realm. It also meant that so long as he remained in the world of mortals, those in the underworld could not detect his presence. If they wanted to find him, they would have to send foot soldiers to do their dirty work.
Finding Rook would not be an easy task. Condemned to walk the world of humans forever, did not make Rook powerless. Other guides of the dead had been sent after him; sent to kill him. None had survived thus far. The underworld would have to send somebody or something more powerful. The longer Rook had existed, the stronger his powers and abilities had grown. While there were those who had been around far longer than he had, there were not an abundance of them. It was why Rook had been lucky, thus far.
Gender: Male
Age: Appears as a male in his late 20s/mid 30s. Has been in existence for hundreds of years.
Species: Deity of the Dead; Psychopomps
Pairing: MxF
Psychopomps: Those who guide the spirits of the dead. In the human world, there are many names for them– Grim Reaper, the valkyries, the Ferryman of Norse mythology, Death, and more.
Backstory
Rook had been a creature of many names, and many faces. He had existed in a world between the dead and the living, for dozens of lifetimes over. How his existence had come to be, Rook could not remember. It was if he had simply been blinked into reality, existing in a space where he once had not. Throughout the changes of the mortals, Rook had changed forms, becoming what it was that people wanted to see as their souls were ushered from the land of the living, to the realm of the dead. If Heaven and Hell were real, Rook could not say; he did not know. It was not his place.
As times moved forward and the world industrialized, the image that Rook appeared as the most, was another human. Therefore, Rook had grown familiar with taking on the form of a male human. Though, somewhere along the lines, Rook’s detached demeanor started to change shape. It was not his purpose to care or feel attached to the souls he aided in their travels, but there were exceptions to every rule, were there not? If it was not an exception, then it would have to be an anomaly.
Rook had guided hundreds of thousands of men, women, children, and elderly through the space between life and death. Out of all of the souls he had encountered, Rook had not found himself fond of any of them. Indifferent would be the best word to summarize. The dead needed to be taken into the afterlife, and somebody or something, had to do it. Still, when Rook encountered a soul whose love for the partner they had left behind was so strong that it radiated from them, Rook found himself moved. There was love, and then there was the soulbound nature between two people, and for whatever reason, Rook had broken the rules. Instead of taking the soul across a lake of shadow and void, he had taken them back towards the light that was life. It had been that person’s time, and Rook had just altered the course.
What consequences it would have for the couple, Rook did not know. He had never taken a soul back to the land of those still living, allowing it to rejoin with the body it had departed. However, there were consequences for Rook. While he might have been summoned into existence, Rook had a solid foothold in the living world, after spending time traversing between it and the land of the dead. If nature or the Gods, or whatever beings had formed his existence, wanted him gone, then somebody would have to get their hands dirty. It also meant that Rook, a psychopomps, was now trapped within the land of the living. The powers that controlled the land of the dead, were not as easily moved into the land of those still living. It was not in their nature, unlike Rook, whose nature was to be able to exist in either realm. It also meant that so long as he remained in the world of mortals, those in the underworld could not detect his presence. If they wanted to find him, they would have to send foot soldiers to do their dirty work.
Finding Rook would not be an easy task. Condemned to walk the world of humans forever, did not make Rook powerless. Other guides of the dead had been sent after him; sent to kill him. None had survived thus far. The underworld would have to send somebody or something more powerful. The longer Rook had existed, the stronger his powers and abilities had grown. While there were those who had been around far longer than he had, there were not an abundance of them. It was why Rook had been lucky, thus far.
Plot Idea
I had started a story with Rook that did not get very far before. The plot involved Rook, who believed he was just spawned into existence, actually just not remembering his life before being forced to be a psychopomps. Rook, unknowingly, was a child that should not have existed– born from a being of the Hells and from the Heavens. Prophecy would say that this child would bring about the end of times, but this prophecy had been altered so that if Rook ever came into his full power, people would seek to end his life.
His Mother, a powerful demon from the Hells; his father, a God from the Heavens. Together they created a child that was against every rule and law that had been formed. What would become of the two, were their transgressions ever to see the light of day? Of course, ending Rook’s life would be no easy task. The fallout that could come from eradicating a child of such power could be just as catastrophic. Not to mention, neither mother nor father could lay hands on the demi-god child they had made together. The blood of a God ran through Rook’s veins and thus he was protected.
So a story was created– a false prophecy. The apocalypse. The end of times. They erased what memories Rook had formed, raising him only until they could send him elsewhere. They ensured nobody knew who or what he was, keeping him hidden until he was sent to the space between life and death. What powers Rook held had been sealed– a bandaid of a fix. If Rook ever learned the truth, there were ways he could undo what his parents had done.
In truth, there was another prophecy. A real one. See, the Heavens and Hells were constantly at war. The damage of these battles leaked into the moral world, causing corruption and chaos. It was why the humans lived in such disarray and constant states of tension. Their world had been peaceful once, before godly beings had stopped caring about what became of mankind.
Rook, were he ever to discover the truth of who he was and what he was capable of, had the potential to end the war. How was what was left out from the prophecy. Would Rook end the world? Could Rook put an end to the fighting between the Gods? What role would he play in all of this? There were no answers, because Rook was blind to the truth, even after fleeing to the mortal realm to hide.
This idea can be tweaked, changed, etc. It is just the basic outline of what was formed before and I find it to be really interesting! YC could be a number of people. Somebody meant to hunt Rook and take him back– possibly kill him? Realizes he isn’t what she thought and can’t bring herself to do it? Kind of enemies to lovers. Maybe she discovered the truth about Rook, before he figured it out for himself. She comes to tell him– help him unlock the powers his parents locked away? Maybe she’s the key to that lock? A random human, clueless that such a world of beings exists. Wrong place, wrong time, and she witnesses somebody coming after Rook? She’s seen too much, but Rook can’t bring himself to end her life just because she was the wrong things? Or the human woman could be drawn to him, not knowing why– maybe she had power she’s not yet awakened, and it comes to life when she crosses his path. Her power then being the key to unlocking his? Any thoughts of your own? I’d love to hear them!!
I had started a story with Rook that did not get very far before. The plot involved Rook, who believed he was just spawned into existence, actually just not remembering his life before being forced to be a psychopomps. Rook, unknowingly, was a child that should not have existed– born from a being of the Hells and from the Heavens. Prophecy would say that this child would bring about the end of times, but this prophecy had been altered so that if Rook ever came into his full power, people would seek to end his life.
His Mother, a powerful demon from the Hells; his father, a God from the Heavens. Together they created a child that was against every rule and law that had been formed. What would become of the two, were their transgressions ever to see the light of day? Of course, ending Rook’s life would be no easy task. The fallout that could come from eradicating a child of such power could be just as catastrophic. Not to mention, neither mother nor father could lay hands on the demi-god child they had made together. The blood of a God ran through Rook’s veins and thus he was protected.
So a story was created– a false prophecy. The apocalypse. The end of times. They erased what memories Rook had formed, raising him only until they could send him elsewhere. They ensured nobody knew who or what he was, keeping him hidden until he was sent to the space between life and death. What powers Rook held had been sealed– a bandaid of a fix. If Rook ever learned the truth, there were ways he could undo what his parents had done.
In truth, there was another prophecy. A real one. See, the Heavens and Hells were constantly at war. The damage of these battles leaked into the moral world, causing corruption and chaos. It was why the humans lived in such disarray and constant states of tension. Their world had been peaceful once, before godly beings had stopped caring about what became of mankind.
Rook, were he ever to discover the truth of who he was and what he was capable of, had the potential to end the war. How was what was left out from the prophecy. Would Rook end the world? Could Rook put an end to the fighting between the Gods? What role would he play in all of this? There were no answers, because Rook was blind to the truth, even after fleeing to the mortal realm to hide.
This idea can be tweaked, changed, etc. It is just the basic outline of what was formed before and I find it to be really interesting! YC could be a number of people. Somebody meant to hunt Rook and take him back– possibly kill him? Realizes he isn’t what she thought and can’t bring herself to do it? Kind of enemies to lovers. Maybe she discovered the truth about Rook, before he figured it out for himself. She comes to tell him– help him unlock the powers his parents locked away? Maybe she’s the key to that lock? A random human, clueless that such a world of beings exists. Wrong place, wrong time, and she witnesses somebody coming after Rook? She’s seen too much, but Rook can’t bring himself to end her life just because she was the wrong things? Or the human woman could be drawn to him, not knowing why– maybe she had power she’s not yet awakened, and it comes to life when she crosses his path. Her power then being the key to unlocking his? Any thoughts of your own? I’d love to hear them!!
They say, “She’s spiraling.”
They call her, “messy, broken. Just another lost cause.”
She’d say, “She’s having the time of her life.”
She’d tell them, “I’m free; unbound by societal expectations.”
Name: Octavia Colfox
Age: 26
Species: Human (Could be a vampire or a werewolf for added supernatural element)
Pairings: MxF or FxF
“I’m fine.”
“I can stop any time.”
“This isn’t a problem.”
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
“Stop trying to fix me.”
Flowing toxicity; drugs, alcohol, sex, self-inflicted harm– these were just some of her favorite things. And she did them with flair and dramatics, the likes of which were fit for a stage on Broadway. She could have been an actress… she could have been a lot of things, if she had ever cared to try. The fight for self-betterment and a stable life had long since gone out the window– maybe they’d been pushed out that window. Same difference, right? Gone was gone, afterall. Just like her self-esteem, sense of purpose, or general desire for life. There wasn’t actually a time Octavia remembered having any of those things, if she were being honest. Though, she rarely was. Lying was one of her best skills; a skill she had spent years of her life perfecting. For various reasons, of course.
Backstory: Octavia grew up in a home that was beyond broken. Her parents, both volatile, were her first example of how people “loved” one another. Their fights were explosive and Octavia was often collateral damage. If fists started flying, then one– often more– would be sure to hit her, too. If her parents weren’t fighting, they were as high as two kites during a wind storm, and just as erratic.
Before Octavia was old enough to care for herself, she would go days without being fed. The house, small and falling apart, was often left in disarray– in filth. Until Octavia was old enough to be forced into cleaning everything. If she refused, all hell would break loose. How many fights had she and her parents been in over the house? How many blows had she taken? How many days and she spent literally locked in her room? Too many to keep count of. Resentment began to sprout inside of her, growing like a wild vine and taking over everything; snuffing out the best parts of who she was, to make room for itself.
That very resentment led her to end up just like both of her parents. Octavia started drinking as soon as she started high school. By the time she had finished high school, she had done just about any drug or substance she’d been offered. Octavia was known to try anything once, but of course, a second time would really tell her if she liked it or not.
Surprisingly, despite her substance use and failing classes due to a lack of ambition, Octavia was smart. Intelligent enough that she could have gone on to have a career and future that most people only dreamed of. Eh, it just wasn’t her style. Money was just a means to an end, nice things mattered not, as long as she could get her next fix. Drink her next drink. Fuck her next distraction. After all, the drugs and the booze just amplified all of Octavia’s worst personality traits. It served for some very destructive and thrilling relationships. It was almost a game to her… almost.
Deep down, Octavia always fell for the partners she abused and tormented, and she never really wanted her relationships to end. She would never admit it, and if anyone ever suggested it, she would deny it– but Octavia was desperate to be loved. Truly, unconditionally, loved. Something she had never experienced; something she would surely destroy before it could ever exist. After all, isn’t that what real love is?
They call her, “messy, broken. Just another lost cause.”
She’d say, “She’s having the time of her life.”
She’d tell them, “I’m free; unbound by societal expectations.”
Name: Octavia Colfox
Age: 26
Species: Human (Could be a vampire or a werewolf for added supernatural element)
Pairings: MxF or FxF
“I’m fine.”
“I can stop any time.”
“This isn’t a problem.”
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
“Stop trying to fix me.”
Flowing toxicity; drugs, alcohol, sex, self-inflicted harm– these were just some of her favorite things. And she did them with flair and dramatics, the likes of which were fit for a stage on Broadway. She could have been an actress… she could have been a lot of things, if she had ever cared to try. The fight for self-betterment and a stable life had long since gone out the window– maybe they’d been pushed out that window. Same difference, right? Gone was gone, afterall. Just like her self-esteem, sense of purpose, or general desire for life. There wasn’t actually a time Octavia remembered having any of those things, if she were being honest. Though, she rarely was. Lying was one of her best skills; a skill she had spent years of her life perfecting. For various reasons, of course.
Backstory: Octavia grew up in a home that was beyond broken. Her parents, both volatile, were her first example of how people “loved” one another. Their fights were explosive and Octavia was often collateral damage. If fists started flying, then one– often more– would be sure to hit her, too. If her parents weren’t fighting, they were as high as two kites during a wind storm, and just as erratic.
Before Octavia was old enough to care for herself, she would go days without being fed. The house, small and falling apart, was often left in disarray– in filth. Until Octavia was old enough to be forced into cleaning everything. If she refused, all hell would break loose. How many fights had she and her parents been in over the house? How many blows had she taken? How many days and she spent literally locked in her room? Too many to keep count of. Resentment began to sprout inside of her, growing like a wild vine and taking over everything; snuffing out the best parts of who she was, to make room for itself.
That very resentment led her to end up just like both of her parents. Octavia started drinking as soon as she started high school. By the time she had finished high school, she had done just about any drug or substance she’d been offered. Octavia was known to try anything once, but of course, a second time would really tell her if she liked it or not.
Surprisingly, despite her substance use and failing classes due to a lack of ambition, Octavia was smart. Intelligent enough that she could have gone on to have a career and future that most people only dreamed of. Eh, it just wasn’t her style. Money was just a means to an end, nice things mattered not, as long as she could get her next fix. Drink her next drink. Fuck her next distraction. After all, the drugs and the booze just amplified all of Octavia’s worst personality traits. It served for some very destructive and thrilling relationships. It was almost a game to her… almost.
Deep down, Octavia always fell for the partners she abused and tormented, and she never really wanted her relationships to end. She would never admit it, and if anyone ever suggested it, she would deny it– but Octavia was desperate to be loved. Truly, unconditionally, loved. Something she had never experienced; something she would surely destroy before it could ever exist. After all, isn’t that what real love is?
Plot: I don’t have a firm plot hammered out for this character, but I am definitely craving something dark, twisted, and eventually loving, lol. Will YC be the one to show Octavia that real love does exist? Can the two of them break the toxic patterns and bad behaviors, all for the sake of being better for each other?
This could also have a supernatural element to it, making it that much more fun! MC could be a vampire, newly turned, with a substance abuse problem. This could lead to her being addicted to blood, unable to control her hunger. Now, not only is she toxic, she's dangerous and has the ability to be lethal– a loaded gun, just waiting to go off. Or, MC could be a werewolf. Again, newly turned. Full of rage; hot-headed and always on edge. She’s just a ticking time bomb, and there is no way of knowing if the drugs and alcohol will shorten her fuse, or stop it from burning.
YC could also be a supernatural being of some choice, human, or even a hunter! It is totally up to you. I am also open to any suggestions/plots that you might have, so feel free to send me your ideas, too
This could also have a supernatural element to it, making it that much more fun! MC could be a vampire, newly turned, with a substance abuse problem. This could lead to her being addicted to blood, unable to control her hunger. Now, not only is she toxic, she's dangerous and has the ability to be lethal– a loaded gun, just waiting to go off. Or, MC could be a werewolf. Again, newly turned. Full of rage; hot-headed and always on edge. She’s just a ticking time bomb, and there is no way of knowing if the drugs and alcohol will shorten her fuse, or stop it from burning.
YC could also be a supernatural being of some choice, human, or even a hunter! It is totally up to you. I am also open to any suggestions/plots that you might have, so feel free to send me your ideas, too
Name: Rowan Foster
Age: 29
Past Occupation: Part of psychological operations unit with the Army
Pairings: MxF
Backstory: Rowan had worked hard to achieve what he had in such a short amount of time, having not even turned thirty, yet. Successfully, he had managed to climb the ranks within the Army, proving himself fit to become part of an elite unit– PSYOPS. Rowan, specifically, was good at getting information. His psychological profile showed that he was capable of being detached from his emotions and was nonreactive in times of intense stress, allowing for high levels of cognitive reasoning.
His own father had been a successful member of the Army, before being killed in action. Some children might have resented a parent for dying to serve their country– a job that was a choice now, and not a requirement. Not Rowan. He wanted to honor his father; he wanted to make him proud. Rowan’s mother used to worry about him, right until she passed in a car accident. A drunk driver who had been going down the wrong side of the road, had collided head-on with his mother’s car. First responders tried to ease Rowan’s loss by telling him they were certain her death had been instantaneous.
It had been eight years since the passing of his mother. Eighteen since the death of his father– Rowan had only been eleven. His sister, who was younger than him by three years, had been eight. Their mother did the best she could to raise both of her children. Sometimes, there were times of struggle, but she loved her kids unconditionally.
The loss of their sole surviving parent had been difficult on the siblings. Rowan grew colder, making the switch to be a part of the psychological operations unit. Rowan was tasked with gruesome jobs. Often, he led extraction teams– more like groups of armed abductors. The target of value was always somebody who had information that was relevant to something beyond Rowan’s knowledge. His second job, after a successful capture, was interrogation. He could count the number of people who had been able to resist through his tactics on one hand. They had died slow deaths; Rowan never stopped his torture until the person had stopped breathing.
After six years, Rowan had seen it all. There was little he hadn’t done. His record was stained in the blood of the people they labeled as their enemies. The nightmares that haunted him often depicted the worst things he had done. As much as Rowan was able to compartmentalize, he was still only human, not immune to the psychological damage of the horrors he’d seen and done.
For the last two years, Rowan has been out of the service. He was discharged with awards and in high standing– praised by all who knew him. It wouldn’t change the fact that there had been no choice in the matter. He had started losing his handle on things, and the moment his mind started working against him, he became a liability.
So now, the man who was once part of a special unit, had spent those last two years as a hired gun. A mercenary. A bounty hunter. A bodyguard. Whatever those who hired them wanted to call it. The skills he’d learned over the years and his ability to get any job done, meant that Rowan always had a job. If somebody needed to be taken out, he could make it happen and then make it disappear. He still had plenty of connections– still had his hands stuffed down plenty of pockets. If somebody needed protection, Rowan was perfect for the job. His sharp and watchful eyes missed nothing. He could bring back his targets alive, just as well as he could dead. It made him a pretty good choice for nearly any devilish deed that somebody might need done.
Age: 29
Past Occupation: Part of psychological operations unit with the Army
Pairings: MxF
Backstory: Rowan had worked hard to achieve what he had in such a short amount of time, having not even turned thirty, yet. Successfully, he had managed to climb the ranks within the Army, proving himself fit to become part of an elite unit– PSYOPS. Rowan, specifically, was good at getting information. His psychological profile showed that he was capable of being detached from his emotions and was nonreactive in times of intense stress, allowing for high levels of cognitive reasoning.
His own father had been a successful member of the Army, before being killed in action. Some children might have resented a parent for dying to serve their country– a job that was a choice now, and not a requirement. Not Rowan. He wanted to honor his father; he wanted to make him proud. Rowan’s mother used to worry about him, right until she passed in a car accident. A drunk driver who had been going down the wrong side of the road, had collided head-on with his mother’s car. First responders tried to ease Rowan’s loss by telling him they were certain her death had been instantaneous.
It had been eight years since the passing of his mother. Eighteen since the death of his father– Rowan had only been eleven. His sister, who was younger than him by three years, had been eight. Their mother did the best she could to raise both of her children. Sometimes, there were times of struggle, but she loved her kids unconditionally.
The loss of their sole surviving parent had been difficult on the siblings. Rowan grew colder, making the switch to be a part of the psychological operations unit. Rowan was tasked with gruesome jobs. Often, he led extraction teams– more like groups of armed abductors. The target of value was always somebody who had information that was relevant to something beyond Rowan’s knowledge. His second job, after a successful capture, was interrogation. He could count the number of people who had been able to resist through his tactics on one hand. They had died slow deaths; Rowan never stopped his torture until the person had stopped breathing.
After six years, Rowan had seen it all. There was little he hadn’t done. His record was stained in the blood of the people they labeled as their enemies. The nightmares that haunted him often depicted the worst things he had done. As much as Rowan was able to compartmentalize, he was still only human, not immune to the psychological damage of the horrors he’d seen and done.
For the last two years, Rowan has been out of the service. He was discharged with awards and in high standing– praised by all who knew him. It wouldn’t change the fact that there had been no choice in the matter. He had started losing his handle on things, and the moment his mind started working against him, he became a liability.
So now, the man who was once part of a special unit, had spent those last two years as a hired gun. A mercenary. A bounty hunter. A bodyguard. Whatever those who hired them wanted to call it. The skills he’d learned over the years and his ability to get any job done, meant that Rowan always had a job. If somebody needed to be taken out, he could make it happen and then make it disappear. He still had plenty of connections– still had his hands stuffed down plenty of pockets. If somebody needed protection, Rowan was perfect for the job. His sharp and watchful eyes missed nothing. He could bring back his targets alive, just as well as he could dead. It made him a pretty good choice for nearly any devilish deed that somebody might need done.
Plot Ideas: It’s probably the most basic and obvious idea, but YC could be somebody in need of his services. A body guard, perhaps? Maybe she’s somebody who comes from a family known for their criminal activity. A company appears as a business on the surface, but it really launders money. A few enemies made, now she needs somebody watching her back? Or, maybe she needs a few of those enemies removed from the board? A combination of both? Pitch your own ideas, if you want! I’m always down to hear them and just plot back and forth until we’ve got the perfect story!
If any of these characters interests you, send me a message! If none of the plot snippets catch your attention but you have ideas of your own, share them! I'd love to hear it! Also, character face claims can be discussed/sent via messages, as I know that many people have preferences on the types of face claims used :)