Who are you, how long have you been writing and what kind of things do you like to write?
Hey! I'm E.L Graves, but you can call me Angel. I'll be 28 years old, and I'm a chronically caffeinated gremlin who lives on the East Coast. I am not normally on RP forums like this. I usually use Discord for OOC communication and Google Docs for RPs. I've been writing for about twelve years in total. An RP veteran, if you will. I love writing highly detailed, character-driven stories. I am a sucker for good internal monologue, realistic reactions to the environment, and characters that face the consequences of their actions. I also love organic plot development and love letting the characters write themselves. Right off the bat I will tell you that I strictly write MxF. I prefer to play a female character but if you want to double, I can and am more than willing to! I will tell you that sometimes i do struggle with punctuation, but other than that I haven't had many complaints about my writing. I'll be sure to include a couple samples of my writing from both my female and male characters at the bottom of this!
How long do your replies tend to be and what is your writing schedule like?
My replies usually sit around 3-5 paragraphs. I typically match my partner's energy and give you plenty to react to. I ask that you do the same, but i will always be quality over quantity. As for my schedule, I am a single mom of two who works/games/goes to school throughout the day so real life always comes first. I try to reply atleast once a day. I am huge on OOC communication, so i will let you know if i can't get a reply out or any schedule changes.
What is your tolerance level for gore? Violence?
I am entirely fine with gore and violence. I love a good action scene and characters getting hurt. Nothing hits right like a good fight scene. My limits for violence though include torture involving the eyes/mouth, and fingernails/toenails. Idk why but it makes my skin crawl.
Do you write sexual content? If so, what are your kinks? Limits?
Yes, but i will be honest with you. I love a good smut scene but I am a "story over smut" girlie. I want the world-building, the tension, and the chemistry. When the spice does happen, I want it to be earned and make sense in the story. If you want to rush straight to the bedroom, we won't be a good match.
My limits include: Bathroom stuff (eg. Pee, poop, vomit), Anthro/Furry, anything foot-related, Bestiality, and characters under 18
We can discuss kinks more indepth in DMs. They're not a requirement for me, just something that I like
As i said before, I am huge on OOC communication so if we get to this point and i get uncomfy with something I will let you know!
Do you write any fandoms? (Please bear in mind that any characters under 18 and any high school settings must be aged up)
Yes! I am huge on fandoms. I love taking characters from games/movies/etc and throwing them in AUs. I'm also really into Hockey right now, so there's that, not really sure if that qualifies as a fandom but we're gonna put it here anyway. However, that does not mean that I am opposed to doing OC x OC
I'm huge on Call of Duty. I struggle writing in the call of duty universe, so i typically take the canon characters and throw them into an AU. I once did one where they were in an AU where we took bits from Far Cry 5 and incorporated them.
My fandoms (in order from most desired to least)
Call of Duty
YellowJackets
Farcry Five
Red Dead Redemption 2
Marvel
The Rookie (I'm on season three)
Do you have any pairing or setting ideas?
I have pairings, the characters I have bolded are ones I would like for you to play.
Call of Duty:
(I have experience playing as Ghost and don't mind playing as him)
Graves x OC
Soap x OC
YellowJackets:
Jeff x OC
Red Dead Redemption 2:
Arthur x OC
Marvel:
Bucky x OC
Captain America x OC
Loki x OC
Do you have any detailed plots prepared?
Plots? Boy do i have plots. I'm not gonna put all the details here, just the base ideas.
Cop x newcomer to town
Enemies to lovers
Zombie Apocalypse survivors
Fake dating (starts out fake turns real)
Best friend's brother
Bad boy x Good girl
Evil King x Commoner
Mafia x regular person
Stalker x Stalkee
Blind Date
Teacher x Student (college student)
Honestly, I have more, but I want to brainstorm and come up with plots together, so don't let the emptiness of this section scare you away.
Do you have any characters you want to write? (Our character forum is here if you want a dedicated thread)
I have a whole roster of OCs on Google docs, They are a baseline character sheet as I tweak them to match the plot/settings of the rp i put them in.
Any additional notes you want to add?
Yes! As I've said before, I am huge on OOC communication. I'm not looking for someone just to write with, I wanna bond/be friends. I feel like it's much easier to write with someone when you have a friendship built as well. I love to do Spotify playlists/pin boards and include links to outfits for my characters and the settings because I am an incredibly visual person. I'm used to discord where I would have an entire server dedicated to the roleplay with text channels for each character, media sections and a general banter thread. I hope none of this scares anyone away! So! If you're interested, feel free to send me a message, I promise i don't bite!
Hey! I'm E.L Graves, but you can call me Angel. I'll be 28 years old, and I'm a chronically caffeinated gremlin who lives on the East Coast. I am not normally on RP forums like this. I usually use Discord for OOC communication and Google Docs for RPs. I've been writing for about twelve years in total. An RP veteran, if you will. I love writing highly detailed, character-driven stories. I am a sucker for good internal monologue, realistic reactions to the environment, and characters that face the consequences of their actions. I also love organic plot development and love letting the characters write themselves. Right off the bat I will tell you that I strictly write MxF. I prefer to play a female character but if you want to double, I can and am more than willing to! I will tell you that sometimes i do struggle with punctuation, but other than that I haven't had many complaints about my writing. I'll be sure to include a couple samples of my writing from both my female and male characters at the bottom of this!
How long do your replies tend to be and what is your writing schedule like?
My replies usually sit around 3-5 paragraphs. I typically match my partner's energy and give you plenty to react to. I ask that you do the same, but i will always be quality over quantity. As for my schedule, I am a single mom of two who works/games/goes to school throughout the day so real life always comes first. I try to reply atleast once a day. I am huge on OOC communication, so i will let you know if i can't get a reply out or any schedule changes.
What is your tolerance level for gore? Violence?
I am entirely fine with gore and violence. I love a good action scene and characters getting hurt. Nothing hits right like a good fight scene. My limits for violence though include torture involving the eyes/mouth, and fingernails/toenails. Idk why but it makes my skin crawl.
Do you write sexual content? If so, what are your kinks? Limits?
Yes, but i will be honest with you. I love a good smut scene but I am a "story over smut" girlie. I want the world-building, the tension, and the chemistry. When the spice does happen, I want it to be earned and make sense in the story. If you want to rush straight to the bedroom, we won't be a good match.
My limits include: Bathroom stuff (eg. Pee, poop, vomit), Anthro/Furry, anything foot-related, Bestiality, and characters under 18
We can discuss kinks more indepth in DMs. They're not a requirement for me, just something that I like
As i said before, I am huge on OOC communication so if we get to this point and i get uncomfy with something I will let you know!
Do you write any fandoms? (Please bear in mind that any characters under 18 and any high school settings must be aged up)
Yes! I am huge on fandoms. I love taking characters from games/movies/etc and throwing them in AUs. I'm also really into Hockey right now, so there's that, not really sure if that qualifies as a fandom but we're gonna put it here anyway. However, that does not mean that I am opposed to doing OC x OC
I'm huge on Call of Duty. I struggle writing in the call of duty universe, so i typically take the canon characters and throw them into an AU. I once did one where they were in an AU where we took bits from Far Cry 5 and incorporated them.
My fandoms (in order from most desired to least)
Call of Duty
YellowJackets
Farcry Five
Red Dead Redemption 2
Marvel
The Rookie (I'm on season three)
Do you have any pairing or setting ideas?
I have pairings, the characters I have bolded are ones I would like for you to play.
Call of Duty:
(I have experience playing as Ghost and don't mind playing as him)
Graves x OC
Soap x OC
YellowJackets:
Jeff x OC
Red Dead Redemption 2:
Arthur x OC
Marvel:
Bucky x OC
Captain America x OC
Loki x OC
Do you have any detailed plots prepared?
Plots? Boy do i have plots. I'm not gonna put all the details here, just the base ideas.
Cop x newcomer to town
Enemies to lovers
Zombie Apocalypse survivors
Fake dating (starts out fake turns real)
Best friend's brother
Bad boy x Good girl
Evil King x Commoner
Mafia x regular person
Stalker x Stalkee
Blind Date
Teacher x Student (college student)
Honestly, I have more, but I want to brainstorm and come up with plots together, so don't let the emptiness of this section scare you away.
Do you have any characters you want to write? (Our character forum is here if you want a dedicated thread)
I have a whole roster of OCs on Google docs, They are a baseline character sheet as I tweak them to match the plot/settings of the rp i put them in.
Any additional notes you want to add?
Yes! As I've said before, I am huge on OOC communication. I'm not looking for someone just to write with, I wanna bond/be friends. I feel like it's much easier to write with someone when you have a friendship built as well. I love to do Spotify playlists/pin boards and include links to outfits for my characters and the settings because I am an incredibly visual person. I'm used to discord where I would have an entire server dedicated to the roleplay with text channels for each character, media sections and a general banter thread. I hope none of this scares anyone away! So! If you're interested, feel free to send me a message, I promise i don't bite!
Three streets over, Jasper’s house was in a state of controlled chaos. Jasper was standing in the middle of his living room, a sweaty grey t-shirt clinging to his chest as he ruthlessly attacked a mountain of empty cardboard boxes with a box cutter. Smoke was passed out on his dog bed in the corner, thoroughly exhausted from his morning escapades.
When his phone buzzed on the kitchen island, Jasper almost ignored it. Then, he remembered that Ember now had his number. He dropped the knife and bolted to the kitchen entirely too excited.
He swiped the screen, seeing the notification pop up, he tapped on it. Jasper leaned his hips against the granite counter, crossing his ankles as he opened the message.
When his eyes scanned the words Sullivan’s and No tux required, a slow, boyish grin spread across his face. He scratched his bearded jaw, a low chuckle echoing in the empty kitchen.
Sullivans.
Of all the places in Castle Rock, she picked the greasy dinner that was by their high school. The memory of junior prom hit him like a freight train. He remembered the suffocating collar of that cheap rented tuxedo, the overwhelming smell of his ex’s hairspray and how incredibly bored he had been until Ember showed up and started eating his fries. He hadn’t stopped her. He had just watched her, secretly amused, pushing the plate a fraction of an inch closer to her side of the table.
He ran a heavy hand through his dark hair, his thumbs quickly flying across the screen as he typed his reply, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn’t in years.
He hit send, tossing the phone back onto the counter. He looked over at Smoke, the victorious boyish smirk etched onto his face.
“She said yes, buddy,” Jasper said, completely abandoning the unpacked boxes. “I gotta go find a clean shirt.”
For a man who used to calmly check his body armor before dropping out of helicopters into active warzones, Jasper was currently experiencing an embarrassing amount of anxiety over a Tuesday lunch date.
He stood in front of his bedroom mirror, aggressively running a heavy hand through his dark hair. He had finally settled on a pair of perfectly worn-in, dark wash jeans that accommodated his thick thighs, paired with a simple, fitted black t-shirt. The cotton stretched taut across his broad chest and massive shoulders, leaving the intricate dark ink of his tattoo sleeve completely exposed. It was casual. It was just a diner. Right?
“Do I look okay? I look okay, right Moose?” Jasper muttered, looking down at the massive dog sitting at his feet.
Moose just stared up at him, tilting his heavy head to the side before letting out a single, booming bark of approval.
Jasper let out a long ragged exhale, scooping up his scuffed leather riding jacket and his motorcycle helmet from the dresser. “Hold the fort down,” he ordered, pointing a stern finger at Moose. “And don’t let your brother cause any trouble. We’ve had enough for one week.”
Smoke, predictably, didn’t even lift his snout from his dog bed in the corner, merely flicking one ear in acknowledgement.
Before stepping out of the bedroom, Jasper went through his daily, unbreakable ritual. He picked up his matte-black Glock 19 from the nightstand and press-checked the chamber with smooth, lethal muscle memory. Satisfied, he lifted the hem of his black t-shirt and slid the weapon seamlessly into the kydex appendix holster at his belt. The heavy steel settled comfortably against his stomach, avoiding the angry scars on his side and hip. The second he dropped the hem of his shirt, the weapon completely vanished against his two hundred and thirty pound frame.
Stepping out into the crisp afternoon air, he walked over to his parked motorcycle, sliding the key into the ignition. He shrugged the heavy leather jacket over his shoulders, strapped his helmet tightly under his jaw and swung his leg over the seat before putting his gloves on.
With a deep rumble, the engine roared to life and he pulled out of his driveway.
The deep guttural roar of the motorcycle engine echoed off the quite tree-lined streets of Castle Rock as Jasper shifted smoothly through the gears. The heavy leather of his jacket blocked the chill of the afternoon harbor breeze, but nothing could quite extinguish the ridiculous adolescent like excitement burning in his chest.
He navigated the familiar turns with effortless grace, the wind whipping around him. About three blocks away from Sullivan’s the traffic light at the main intersection flipped to red.
Jasper downshifted, the engine popping aggressively as he braked and rolled to a smooth stop in the left lane. He planted his heavy leather-booted foot on the asphalt to brace the bike, letting the engine idle in a low hum between his thighs.
He flicked his visor up to let the cool air hit his face as he casually turned his head to glance at the car in the right lane next to him. He immediately froze. Even through the tinted glass of the car window, Jasper recognized the driver instantly.
Ember.
When his phone buzzed on the kitchen island, Jasper almost ignored it. Then, he remembered that Ember now had his number. He dropped the knife and bolted to the kitchen entirely too excited.
He swiped the screen, seeing the notification pop up, he tapped on it. Jasper leaned his hips against the granite counter, crossing his ankles as he opened the message.
When his eyes scanned the words Sullivan’s and No tux required, a slow, boyish grin spread across his face. He scratched his bearded jaw, a low chuckle echoing in the empty kitchen.
Sullivans.
Of all the places in Castle Rock, she picked the greasy dinner that was by their high school. The memory of junior prom hit him like a freight train. He remembered the suffocating collar of that cheap rented tuxedo, the overwhelming smell of his ex’s hairspray and how incredibly bored he had been until Ember showed up and started eating his fries. He hadn’t stopped her. He had just watched her, secretly amused, pushing the plate a fraction of an inch closer to her side of the table.
He ran a heavy hand through his dark hair, his thumbs quickly flying across the screen as he typed his reply, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn’t in years.
-✉
To: Carrots
Deal. But I’m going to get you your own side of fries this time so you don’t have to steal mine. See you at 1:00, Freckles.
To: Carrots
Deal. But I’m going to get you your own side of fries this time so you don’t have to steal mine. See you at 1:00, Freckles.
He hit send, tossing the phone back onto the counter. He looked over at Smoke, the victorious boyish smirk etched onto his face.
“She said yes, buddy,” Jasper said, completely abandoning the unpacked boxes. “I gotta go find a clean shirt.”
For a man who used to calmly check his body armor before dropping out of helicopters into active warzones, Jasper was currently experiencing an embarrassing amount of anxiety over a Tuesday lunch date.
He stood in front of his bedroom mirror, aggressively running a heavy hand through his dark hair. He had finally settled on a pair of perfectly worn-in, dark wash jeans that accommodated his thick thighs, paired with a simple, fitted black t-shirt. The cotton stretched taut across his broad chest and massive shoulders, leaving the intricate dark ink of his tattoo sleeve completely exposed. It was casual. It was just a diner. Right?
“Do I look okay? I look okay, right Moose?” Jasper muttered, looking down at the massive dog sitting at his feet.
Moose just stared up at him, tilting his heavy head to the side before letting out a single, booming bark of approval.
Jasper let out a long ragged exhale, scooping up his scuffed leather riding jacket and his motorcycle helmet from the dresser. “Hold the fort down,” he ordered, pointing a stern finger at Moose. “And don’t let your brother cause any trouble. We’ve had enough for one week.”
Smoke, predictably, didn’t even lift his snout from his dog bed in the corner, merely flicking one ear in acknowledgement.
Before stepping out of the bedroom, Jasper went through his daily, unbreakable ritual. He picked up his matte-black Glock 19 from the nightstand and press-checked the chamber with smooth, lethal muscle memory. Satisfied, he lifted the hem of his black t-shirt and slid the weapon seamlessly into the kydex appendix holster at his belt. The heavy steel settled comfortably against his stomach, avoiding the angry scars on his side and hip. The second he dropped the hem of his shirt, the weapon completely vanished against his two hundred and thirty pound frame.
Stepping out into the crisp afternoon air, he walked over to his parked motorcycle, sliding the key into the ignition. He shrugged the heavy leather jacket over his shoulders, strapped his helmet tightly under his jaw and swung his leg over the seat before putting his gloves on.
With a deep rumble, the engine roared to life and he pulled out of his driveway.
The deep guttural roar of the motorcycle engine echoed off the quite tree-lined streets of Castle Rock as Jasper shifted smoothly through the gears. The heavy leather of his jacket blocked the chill of the afternoon harbor breeze, but nothing could quite extinguish the ridiculous adolescent like excitement burning in his chest.
He navigated the familiar turns with effortless grace, the wind whipping around him. About three blocks away from Sullivan’s the traffic light at the main intersection flipped to red.
Jasper downshifted, the engine popping aggressively as he braked and rolled to a smooth stop in the left lane. He planted his heavy leather-booted foot on the asphalt to brace the bike, letting the engine idle in a low hum between his thighs.
He flicked his visor up to let the cool air hit his face as he casually turned his head to glance at the car in the right lane next to him. He immediately froze. Even through the tinted glass of the car window, Jasper recognized the driver instantly.
Ember.
When his fingers loosely circled around her forearm, Sage’s entire body went rigid. Her body and mind were completely primed for violence, expecting his grip to tighten, expecting to be yanked, pinned or demanded of. But the pressure never came. He was holding her so gently that she could have easily just pulled away.
That lack of force was exactly what paralyzed her.
She held her breath as his thumb brushed over the dark, violent brand on her neck. It burned. Not with pain, but with a sickening, heavy shame. Jake’s touch was so impossibly warm, so deeply careful, that it made the ghost of Arik’s teeth feel a thousand times more disgusting. She felt like a walking contagion, completely unworthy of the fierce, unguarded love bleeding out of his dark blue eyes.
Do you want to talk about it?
“No,” She breathed, the word barely made it past the agonizing lump in her throat. If she spoke, if she tried to put words to the suffocating rot inside her stomach, she would shatter into a million jagged pieces right here on the hardwood floor.
And then he kissed her.
The press of his warm lips against her forehead was a devastating, non-transactional act of pure affection that completely short–circuited her brain. He didn’t want anything from her. He wasn’t demanding a payment.
As Jake walked away, lowering his aching body on the couch, Sage remained frozen in the hallway. The heavy bag of weed sat like a lead weight in her pocket. The mask she had so carefully constructed in the CVS parking lot didn’t just slip, it completely disintegrated.
She moved on autopilot. Her legs carried her the rest of the way down the hall and into her bedroom. The moment she crossed the threshold, she shoved the door shut, but a closed door couldn’t keep out the monster when his mark was already on her skin.
Sage dug the large baggie out of her pocket and tossed it onto her desk. HEr hands were shaking so violently she could barely manage the paper, fumbling as she rolled a joint with frantic, uncoordinated fingers. IT was a sick, pathetic reality. She had just let a monster completely hollow her out, all to get a bag of weed so she could chemically force her own screaming brain to shut up. She had sold the last remaining shreds of her dignity just for the promise of a little numbness.
She sparked the lighter, bringing it to the tip, and inhaled. Deep, suffocatingly deep. The harsh burn in her lungs was the only real thing grounding her to the earth.
She slid down the heavy wood of her dresser until she hit the floor, pulling her knees tight against her chest. She took another desperate drag, waiting for the heavy static blanket of the THC to hit her system. She just needed the alarms in her head to stop.
But the numbness didn’t come.
Instead, the high just acted as a wrecking ball to the very last brick of her defenses. Instead of static, all she could feel was the warm, phantom press of Jake’s lips against her skin.
The memory of it sent a violent spike of pure, unadulterated panic straight through her. Her breath hitched, suddenly coming in short, hyperventilating gasps.
He loved her. The realization wasn’t new and it wasn’t comforting; it was terrifying. It was a suffocating, unbearable weight. How could he look at her, smelling like cheap cologne and a trap house, carrying a box of Plan B, with another man’s literal teeth marks on her throat, and still look at her like she was precious? It made absolutely no sense. Her brain, entirely hardwired for transactions, use, and abuse, couldn’t process it.
His unconditional love felt like a blinding spotlight glaring directly onto every dirty, broken, ruined part of her. She was a walking disaster. She was contaminated. And she was absolutely paralyzed by the terrifying realization that Jake was standing entirely too close to the blast zone. She was going to drag him down into her filth, and he was going to let her do it just because he loved her.
The dam completely broke.
Sage dropped the half-smoked joint into a nearby ashtray as her hands flew up to muffle her own mouth. Ragged agonizing sob tore out of her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut. She sobbed, her fingernails digging painfully into her own arms as she rocked herself on the floor. She had to stay quiet. She couldn’t let him hear her.
The physical revulsion of Arik’s touch, the chalky aftertaste of the pill, and the absolute terrifying panic of being fiercely loved by a man she felt she was fundamentally too broken to deserve all collided into a crushing wave. Sage buried her face into her knees. She was a girl drowning because she was too terrified she’d sink the ship if she climbed aboard.
That lack of force was exactly what paralyzed her.
She held her breath as his thumb brushed over the dark, violent brand on her neck. It burned. Not with pain, but with a sickening, heavy shame. Jake’s touch was so impossibly warm, so deeply careful, that it made the ghost of Arik’s teeth feel a thousand times more disgusting. She felt like a walking contagion, completely unworthy of the fierce, unguarded love bleeding out of his dark blue eyes.
Do you want to talk about it?
“No,” She breathed, the word barely made it past the agonizing lump in her throat. If she spoke, if she tried to put words to the suffocating rot inside her stomach, she would shatter into a million jagged pieces right here on the hardwood floor.
And then he kissed her.
The press of his warm lips against her forehead was a devastating, non-transactional act of pure affection that completely short–circuited her brain. He didn’t want anything from her. He wasn’t demanding a payment.
As Jake walked away, lowering his aching body on the couch, Sage remained frozen in the hallway. The heavy bag of weed sat like a lead weight in her pocket. The mask she had so carefully constructed in the CVS parking lot didn’t just slip, it completely disintegrated.
She moved on autopilot. Her legs carried her the rest of the way down the hall and into her bedroom. The moment she crossed the threshold, she shoved the door shut, but a closed door couldn’t keep out the monster when his mark was already on her skin.
Sage dug the large baggie out of her pocket and tossed it onto her desk. HEr hands were shaking so violently she could barely manage the paper, fumbling as she rolled a joint with frantic, uncoordinated fingers. IT was a sick, pathetic reality. She had just let a monster completely hollow her out, all to get a bag of weed so she could chemically force her own screaming brain to shut up. She had sold the last remaining shreds of her dignity just for the promise of a little numbness.
She sparked the lighter, bringing it to the tip, and inhaled. Deep, suffocatingly deep. The harsh burn in her lungs was the only real thing grounding her to the earth.
She slid down the heavy wood of her dresser until she hit the floor, pulling her knees tight against her chest. She took another desperate drag, waiting for the heavy static blanket of the THC to hit her system. She just needed the alarms in her head to stop.
But the numbness didn’t come.
Instead, the high just acted as a wrecking ball to the very last brick of her defenses. Instead of static, all she could feel was the warm, phantom press of Jake’s lips against her skin.
The memory of it sent a violent spike of pure, unadulterated panic straight through her. Her breath hitched, suddenly coming in short, hyperventilating gasps.
He loved her. The realization wasn’t new and it wasn’t comforting; it was terrifying. It was a suffocating, unbearable weight. How could he look at her, smelling like cheap cologne and a trap house, carrying a box of Plan B, with another man’s literal teeth marks on her throat, and still look at her like she was precious? It made absolutely no sense. Her brain, entirely hardwired for transactions, use, and abuse, couldn’t process it.
His unconditional love felt like a blinding spotlight glaring directly onto every dirty, broken, ruined part of her. She was a walking disaster. She was contaminated. And she was absolutely paralyzed by the terrifying realization that Jake was standing entirely too close to the blast zone. She was going to drag him down into her filth, and he was going to let her do it just because he loved her.
The dam completely broke.
Sage dropped the half-smoked joint into a nearby ashtray as her hands flew up to muffle her own mouth. Ragged agonizing sob tore out of her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut. She sobbed, her fingernails digging painfully into her own arms as she rocked herself on the floor. She had to stay quiet. She couldn’t let him hear her.
The physical revulsion of Arik’s touch, the chalky aftertaste of the pill, and the absolute terrifying panic of being fiercely loved by a man she felt she was fundamentally too broken to deserve all collided into a crushing wave. Sage buried her face into her knees. She was a girl drowning because she was too terrified she’d sink the ship if she climbed aboard.
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