MxF Finder's Seeking High Fantasy, Medieval, Long-term Partners [Male MC version]

[Finder]

You are hunting for a partner! Listed below are what I offer and what I require, the necessary information in bold for easy skimming.
Any plot ideas I have will be added and edited in the post below for easy reading and sorting. Below that will be a writing sample!

***⟴⟴⟴ I am not here to scratch an itch. I'm here for stories. If intimate scenes only happen once every 50 pages, I am happy. I will not be listing my kinks and I will not read yours. I will write anything that works in context to the stories we write and the character involved in them. Lets create something beautiful together.

⟴ I prefer to ride under the mature content banner. I enjoy violence, intimacy, trauma, etc.

⟴ Casual to low advanced role playing is my general give. If you give shorter posts I will likely shrink mine to match. I give what I get. But one liners make my heart hurt.

⟴ Tropes I enjoy are the slow burn romance, rivals/enemies to lovers, and sunshine & grumpy.

⟴ No canon characters unless used as background characters. Original Characters only. On the same line, I will not write any characters premade by you as a partner.

⟴ I prefer medieval fantasy settings. I am horrible at space role plays and modern bores me.

⟴ As far as fandoms go, I enjoy Skyrim / Elder Scrolls, Throne of Glass, Three Dark Crowns, and Conan (though I'm not versed in the lore, I do play).

⟴ I don't enjoy writing with OP Mary Sues. Be realistic.

⟴ Please no anthros. Wings, maybe fangs, at most. There is a phobia involved.

I will almost always jump into an Elder Scrolls related rp. It is my bread and butter. I really enjoy the setting.

Be warned;
The wind has long died and my vessel of creativity is in idle waters. I am trying to get it moving again, but there is an uphill battle in finding the urge to take a step. That does not mean I will not greet potential partners and discuss ideas, or just idle chat about favoured books and television series. I love writing. It was once the way I kept my mind aloft and happy. Now, perhaps, I just need the right partner.

 

[Finder]

Plot Ideas​

Light in the Dark
| Humanoids | Fantasy | Magic | Drama | Multiple Characters | Gore |

MC is a mixed breed, not completely human, but appears to be. He is skilled in two magic skills, shadow walking (essentially teleportation) and mind invasion, but only through touch.
And he does not belong.
In this kingdom, magic is outlawed. Hungry mages with too much time and, at least in their optinion, not enough power, decided to make attempts at opening a portal into another world for their own profit. The spell backfired and was catastrophic. This kingdom's version of chernobyl. Melted structures, mutated beings. Air that doesn't feel right.
The kings banned magic altogether, policing it heavily to mark and often eliminate anyone known to have magic under their skin.

MC was sucked in through the portal before it closed and went haywire. He is very far from home, and simply trying to survive long enough to find a way back.

Enter YC. She's noticed lately that she is beginning to show signs of magic that she struggles to control. Soon, she knows she will slip and become exposed. And the worst part? She's the daughter of one of the first kings to outlaw magic.
Somewhere in the city is rumored to be someone who can help. Magic binding spells, simple tattoos or trinkets that nullify magic completely. And knowing that she is due for the executioner should she fail to control her magic, YC goes to erase it.

Except, when the rumors appear to become a dead end, YC's anxiety causes her magic to spill out, forcing MC, who is hiding his own magic, to step in.

- Our characters can be of either gender, if you'd prefer to write a male prince who is struggling, I'm flexible and able to write either gender. I am also more than willing to write the nervous royal looking for help, while you write the more stilled stranger. YC can also be human or elf, as long as its humanoid, please!

*I will not roleplay with furries or scalies, apologies. I can handle wings, or fangs, but anything too animalistic is a line I draw. Considering the humanoids live underground, its possibly they have bat-like wings, or perhaps even are dragon shifters of some sort. (no intimacy will be involved with dragon forms). I originally envisioned them as a Drow-like race, with their own nightmare-fueled beasts they use in combat or as pets.

 

[Finder]

Writing Sample​

He woke to the smell of dry earth, mold, and dust. So much of the latter than as he inhaled it tickled his throat. Expelling it with a quiet cough, he sat up, swinging his bare feet off the little bed upon which he lay. It couldn't be any later than a few hours before dusk. Something had woken him early. His eyes burned, and not just from the filthy chamber.

Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the dark chamber. It was no wider than he was tall in either direction, the bed no larger. If one could call it a bed. When the structure above collapsed, the chambers beneath crumbled. The three stone walls of this cell bore the scars; cracks that ran deep and deadly. Honestly, he was surprised this one cell had remained upright. The iron bars that made the final wall hadn't been so lucky. The metal was bent and mutilated under the crushing weight of the city above. The thing upon which he slept was little more than a chunk of mostly in tact wood with a blanket. The only one he could locate within the city that resembled a bed, and that he could reach.
Sitting on the bed as he was, now, he could lean forward and brush his brow against the metal bars. It called to him. As if to tauntingly say 'I'm so close to puncturing your flesh.' He stared at it, unseeing, wondering why he was awake at this unholy hour.

His answer came shortly.

He felt it again. The subtle twinge in the nape of his neck as the ruins were disturbed. He reached up and brushed his hand across the back of his neck, swiping away the wheat-blond hair that stuck to his skin. Cold sweat. Hint of nausea. Someone is here. Inhaling deeply, he craned his head back, as if he could catch the scent of the intruder from so far underground. Someone, or something, had crossed the border. Into the ruins of his city. Something with magic, otherwise they would not have triggered the wards and alarms. He bared his teeth and rose, grabbing his keffiyeh, bow, and quiver before he vanished in the blink of an eye.

Within minutes, he was crouched on the edge of what remained of the chapel. The once sunbleached terracotta of the holy building was now stained with soot and blood as high as the fires and the terrified people had been able to reach. It had remained unscathed, compared to the rest of the once crowded city, as a statement.

The Goddess of the Sun had abandoned them all, and left them to the mercy of the nightmares of the dark.
Only they had no mercy.

With an arrow nocked against the bowstring, his pale blue eyes scanned the lengthening shadows that covered the still-blood-stained streets. Rain never came here to wash it away. The desert streets were dark so much of it that flies, vultures, and coyotes had become the only things able to survive. Only creatures ably to withstand the overwhelming stench of carrion death. The bodies had been taken out of view. Not all of them, but most. Dragged into whatever dens the scavengers made in the remnants of the homes and alleys. Pieces of the Ziadin were scattered. A skull that was cracked and shattered, its fractures bright white from the relentless sun. A hand, the bits of muscle unable to be picked off dried to an inedible material. Clothing so stained and shredded it was hard to determined what they ever were, or to whom they belonged.
So very few had survived the Ransacking of Ziad. Nobles, vendors, elders, children.
None of them had expected the attack. So many had been unable to fight back.

Gritting his teeth, the figure on the chapel shifted his weight, finding a more comfortable position from which to survey. He was swathed in dark fabrics, soft greys, muted browns, deep blues. The only portions of his dark skin that were visible were his bare hands and feet. And the slit between the folds of his keffiyeh that allowed him to see. Clothing that, ideally, would make him harder to see in the darkness that covered Ziad once the sun finally settled beneath the distant mountains across the desert. Now, in the space between sunset and dusk, when the light was less cooperative, he wasn't sure it would work.

He spotted the intruder long before it spotted him. Unmoving, his eyes watched, observing, calculating. It wasn't one of them. He could tell that. Too short. Too small. Too ... feminine. Female, then. His nostrils flared beneath his face cover. He took a slow breath, keeping his heart rate slow and steady. Armoured. He couldn't tell who it was. Couldn't see if this intruder was familiar. See if it was her once more, returning to bask in the destruction she'd brought to his city with a smile and a soulless laugh.

She moved slow. Observing. Calculating. Much in the same way that he observed her. Wary of danger. Looking for answers. This was not a woman come to relive favoured acts of violence. This was a woman who had come into the wrong city. The wrong ruins.

"You're not welcome here."

His voice shattered the near-silence of the twilight around them. Her presence had silenced most of the scavengers, his deep voice chased off the braver ones. He watched her pause in her tracks and turn, her covered head pointing toward the source of his voice. Whether or not she'd spotted him yet, he didn't know. He shifted his grip on his bow, but didn't raise it yet, not quite ready to give away his position with movement.
"Go back the way you came. There is nothing here."