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Oh wow, oh gosh, here I am again. I think I'm having a bit of performerās anxiety. Donāt look. Okay wait, maybe look a little.
If you ask my best friend, Iām an amazing overachieving specimen. If you ask my boss, Iām perfection walking on a cloud. If you ask me Iād say Iām all of the above. Plus modest.
Good God Iām so modest.
Iāve been gone for a while and now here I am. Iām in the mood to write with a partner again. For the past year and a half Iāve taken up writing for myself and touching grass. 0/10 donāt recommend the grass thing. Now that Iām away from the dangers of the outside and back to the safety of isolation, Iāve made the executive decision to temporarily stop socializing and go back to roleplaying.
Letās get into it.
Actually I have a third!
If we have written together before, (and we were compatible), weāll be starting over on a brand new story! Yay! For many reasons... I donāt remember most of what we wrote about plus I am in the mood for new things.
Writing Style!
Okay so I write in third person limited. I can't tell you how many paragraphs I write because I'm not counting those like a weirdo. Iāll tell you my word count instead like a not-weirdo!
ā¦I canāt tell you my word count.
Its been too long for me to give a precise answer. I used to love writing around 1500 words per post. I might be lazier these days. I feel lazier. I want to say I see myself writing between 300ā1500 words, really depending on my partner.
HOWEVER
I have noticed that I am a bit more compatible with people who consider themselves āsemi-litā or whatever the kids are saying these days.
SMUT!
I used to not write it but now Iām excited to. Not too excited. The normal amount. Iām not like, you know, a creep. Honest. Iām regular. Very regular. Read what Iām saying in the most regular voice possible. I donāt want to write a story that is only about sex. Sex is a privilege, people, not a right!
P.S. I'm fine with no smut as well!
Oh side note: Can I just say, if you want to write fantasy/supernatural, I will have no choice but to form an unhealthy attachment to you. Because thatās my favorite genre.
Iām going to bold this and make it big because itās important.
VOICE VOICE VOICE.
I want a partner who has sooo much voice! Like, it's great that some people want to write poetically. Delicious, yummy, Iām so proud of youā¦ BUT I am not looking for that. I don't want poetic with a side of purple prose. I want a strong character voice. For example,
(This is a weak example. Very short. Not my best. But itās the gist of something voicey. I like voicey)
Lucky rolled his eyes when his mother said his name. Canāt she see he was clearly mauling his babysitter for overcooking his steak? He requested raw. Some people had no decorum.
Vs
(Please no.)
The clock tolled with an unbearable gravity every few seconds, each tick a dagger plunging deeper into the fragile fabric of her existence. Its hands moved with cruel indifference, mocking her sorrow, taunting her mortality. Sarahās gaze lingered upon it, heavy with despair, before drifting downward to the carpet, that barren landscape of beige, lifeless yet screaming with unspeakable truths. The air around her was stagnant, thick with the melancholy of ages, as though the room itself had surrendered to the cruel poetry of silence.
Likes/Dislikes
Likes
Plots
I wrote these like a year ago. I wonder what kind of plots 2024 Jaebee was into. Lets see...
Muse A=me/Muse B=you
Not bad 2024 me. I had to fix a lot of grammar and clarity issues but not bad. Lets see if I can add more.
Writing sample from my first post in 2025! (My 2024 work is not who I am. Avert your eyes if you go looking. We've grown so, so much since then)
One last thing!
I am not compatible with people who regularly take a week or more to write back. Iāll get frustrated with the slow pace and then bored. We would need to establish some sort of rapport beforehand. But if we come out the gate with irregular posts before I'm invested, then Iāll very quickly lose interest.
I am okay if you talk to me and let me know that youāre busy for the forseeable future. I'll wait, kid, I promise. W communication. But if once a week is your normal year round, we wonāt work.
Another reason why is that due to my internship/job, I am super available for some months and then very busy for others. So in those chunks of time where I'm able to fucking BREATHE, I want to get as much writing done as possible before I have to go again.
If we have never written together before, please include a writing sample for me in your first message! And if you have your own story idea tell me everything! Not just "Something about monsters." But like... whatās your angle? Where do you see us going?
Who am IIf you ask my best friend, Iām an amazing overachieving specimen. If you ask my boss, Iām perfection walking on a cloud. If you ask me Iād say Iām all of the above. Plus modest.
Good God Iām so modest.
Iāve been gone for a while and now here I am. Iām in the mood to write with a partner again. For the past year and a half Iāve taken up writing for myself and touching grass. 0/10 donāt recommend the grass thing. Now that Iām away from the dangers of the outside and back to the safety of isolation, Iāve made the executive decision to temporarily stop socializing and go back to roleplaying.
Letās get into it.
- First, Iām over 25. Pleaseeee if you are not then kindly turn around. Love ya, kid. I swear I do. But I simply prefer older writers.
- Second, I have officially completed my Masterās degree and now am in an internship for my new job. Whoo! Iāll give you a hint on what I am. It rhymes with sherapist. Quite a difficult hint, Iām aware.
- Third, there is no third. But I love when things end in 3s.
Actually I have a third!
If we have written together before, (and we were compatible), weāll be starting over on a brand new story! Yay! For many reasons... I donāt remember most of what we wrote about plus I am in the mood for new things.
Writing Style!
Okay so I write in third person limited. I can't tell you how many paragraphs I write because I'm not counting those like a weirdo. Iāll tell you my word count instead like a not-weirdo!
ā¦I canāt tell you my word count.
Its been too long for me to give a precise answer. I used to love writing around 1500 words per post. I might be lazier these days. I feel lazier. I want to say I see myself writing between 300ā1500 words, really depending on my partner.
HOWEVER
I have noticed that I am a bit more compatible with people who consider themselves āsemi-litā or whatever the kids are saying these days.
SMUT!
I used to not write it but now Iām excited to. Not too excited. The normal amount. Iām not like, you know, a creep. Honest. Iām regular. Very regular. Read what Iām saying in the most regular voice possible. I donāt want to write a story that is only about sex. Sex is a privilege, people, not a right!
P.S. I'm fine with no smut as well!
Oh side note: Can I just say, if you want to write fantasy/supernatural, I will have no choice but to form an unhealthy attachment to you. Because thatās my favorite genre.
Iām going to bold this and make it big because itās important.
VOICE VOICE VOICE.
I want a partner who has sooo much voice! Like, it's great that some people want to write poetically. Delicious, yummy, Iām so proud of youā¦ BUT I am not looking for that. I don't want poetic with a side of purple prose. I want a strong character voice. For example,
(This is a weak example. Very short. Not my best. But itās the gist of something voicey. I like voicey)
Lucky rolled his eyes when his mother said his name. Canāt she see he was clearly mauling his babysitter for overcooking his steak? He requested raw. Some people had no decorum.
Vs
(Please no.)
The clock tolled with an unbearable gravity every few seconds, each tick a dagger plunging deeper into the fragile fabric of her existence. Its hands moved with cruel indifference, mocking her sorrow, taunting her mortality. Sarahās gaze lingered upon it, heavy with despair, before drifting downward to the carpet, that barren landscape of beige, lifeless yet screaming with unspeakable truths. The air around her was stagnant, thick with the melancholy of ages, as though the room itself had surrendered to the cruel poetry of silence.
Likes/Dislikes
Likes
- Primal behaviors such as growling, biting, possessiveness, etc
- Angst...Example: One of our characters is being tortured and the other has to watch (the horror!). Bonus points if they are CLOSE TO DEATH yet still taking care of their partner like nothing is wrong. Like why are you doing that?! Be still my heart.
- CLINGINESS. (is this a word?) Unhealthy dependencies... oh what greater joy is there?
- Romance, fluff, cute moments that can embarrass our characters
- Man handling on either side***
- Man handling!
- Knowing how to balance BOTH fun scenes and serious scenes.
- Any implication that a child was tortured.
- Noncon, rape... whatever its called these day.
- Sex centered stories
- People who are taking themselves too seriously when they write. I'm playful. Playyy with meeee.
- Stories with no goal. Even if it's a slice of life romance I still want there to be a conclusion somewhere.
- Not helping in moving the story along. Add things of your own. Help me add conflicts or interest points. Or just add random shit idc. I'm very "Yes, and" when I'm writing. Improv. That's me.
- Fandom. We're writing OCs only. I'm pretty sure Sukuna would organically fall in love with me since I'm built diff so I don't need to roleplay it.
Plots
I wrote these like a year ago. I wonder what kind of plots 2024 Jaebee was into. Lets see...
Muse A=me/Muse B=you
Muse A is a human who either gets lost or is sent on an errand for her village. Muse B is a powerful magical being who has been injured and is hiding away to recover. The two cross paths and, for one reason or another, end up stuck with each other for a time.
She tries to care for him, but since they do not know or trust each other, the situation is tense and unpleasant. Once Muse B is well enough to leave, I would like a larger conflict to come into play. This could be a threat from Muse Aās people, or a creature that wants to steal Muse Bās power or status. Could be something else entirely. Idk.
She tries to care for him, but since they do not know or trust each other, the situation is tense and unpleasant. Once Muse B is well enough to leave, I would like a larger conflict to come into play. This could be a threat from Muse Aās people, or a creature that wants to steal Muse Bās power or status. Could be something else entirely. Idk.
Muse A moves into a new house and discovers an item that summons a demon, Muse B. For reasons of his own, the higher powers in the underworld are furious with him and have cursed him to live in the human world. He is trapped inside this item until someone finds it and activates it.
Once he is released, Muse B becomes soulbound to Muse A. He cannot physically leave her side without either being dragged back to her or suffering extreme pain. The curse has one condition: in order to return home, Muse B must make Muse A fall in love with him and then kill her.
The problem is that Muse A still has to go to work and live her normal life. This means Muse B must learn how to blend into the human world while secretly trying to complete his mission.
Once he is released, Muse B becomes soulbound to Muse A. He cannot physically leave her side without either being dragged back to her or suffering extreme pain. The curse has one condition: in order to return home, Muse B must make Muse A fall in love with him and then kill her.
The problem is that Muse A still has to go to work and live her normal life. This means Muse B must learn how to blend into the human world while secretly trying to complete his mission.
Muse B is a human, and Muse A is a ghost. For years, the ghost has been assigned to kill the human, but she is absolutely terrible at it. He always catches her attempts and ends up scolding her for it, so much so that her failed murder plots have become a normal part of their lives.
From here the story could go in many directions. It could stay a simple love story built on their strange relationship. It could become an adventure where they are pulled into something bigger. Or it could lean into horror. I am open to any of these paths.
From here the story could go in many directions. It could stay a simple love story built on their strange relationship. It could become an adventure where they are pulled into something bigger. Or it could lean into horror. I am open to any of these paths.
Not bad 2024 me. I had to fix a lot of grammar and clarity issues but not bad. Lets see if I can add more.
One of the muses (doesnāt matter which one) is a big bad pirate. Like a super big deal. Big ship, and even bigger Big Dick Energy. Everyone fears them and respects them because they are cruel, powerful, and dangerous. They come across the other muse in the middle of the ocean, either stranded or on a smaller ship. The pirate kidnaps them and takes them as a servant. They hate each other, but there is also something pulling them together. Maybe the kidnapped muse is someone important, like royalty. Whatever floats your boat (pun intended).
One muse is a big bad criminal, the other is a cop or detective. The criminal, though violent as sin, cannot seem to act that way toward the detective. Instead, they try to woo them with dismembered body parts or other nefarious activities. The cop is constantly trying to arrest the criminal but usually fails since the criminal is slippery. Sometimes the criminal even gets caught on purpose just to spend time with their favorite authoritative figure.
The conflict in this one could be that the criminalās past comes back to haunt them, which ends up putting the cop in danger. Or something along those lines.
Or something. Idk. Or whatever you want honestly.
The conflict in this one could be that the criminalās past comes back to haunt them, which ends up putting the cop in danger. Or something along those lines.
Or something. Idk. Or whatever you want honestly.
Writing sample from my first post in 2025! (My 2024 work is not who I am. Avert your eyes if you go looking. We've grown so, so much since then)
This hasnāt been the luckiest day of Amaranthās life. Sheās definitely had luckier.
First, her favorite coffee shop ran out of the good stuff. The good stuff, being hot chocolate. Amar didnāt drink coffee. And when they offered her a free cup of the dreaded bitter beverage, (on the house) she couldnāt have been more insulted! Who goes to cafĆ©s for coffee? The nerve of some people.
Second, when Amar got to work, hot chocolate not in hand, she noticed that her work station was dirty. See, Amaranth used to work a simple office job, that is until she accidently shredded her bossās mistressās purse the in industrial paper shredder. (How cool is an industrial paper shredder? Pretty damn cool.) Afterwards she was promptly fired in front of the entire office. Now, a few weeks and begging later, she had a new job at a doggy daycare. It was nice because dogs didnāt complain when you talked to them for half an hour about why cutting grass in the winter time should be illegal. But now, on the day where Amar had no hot chocolate to boost her morning, she came in to see that her work station, the very place where she bathes her dogs, was completely dirty.
āJeremy!ā She snapped, looked around for the tall lanky redhead. āDid you wash one of your dogs in my work station?ā
He peeked out from around the corner and scrunched his nose. āWhy would I do that?ā
They both paused for a few seconds.
āWell did you?ā Amar asked. Jeremy responded in the most mature way he was capable. By snorting and flipping her off. Then he walked away to take inventory or murder babies or whatever it was that monsters like him did.
āUggghhh,ā Amar kicked the dog bath and then yelped. āFuck!ā She screamed, super lady-like. And there it was. The third shitty thing that happened today. The worst things come in 3s.
After a long day of dog washing and chasing puppies through the kitchen to wrangle them for naptime, Amar was finally set free from her 9 to 5 and allowed to go home. Her home, which was a small apartment on the west side of the city. Did the W in āWestā stand for āWorstā? Because it was the fucking worse. Her hot water was gone, the lock on her front door was broken (welcome all murders! Amar was completely unprotected), and her neighborhood was littered with unsavory characters. The worst ones were the people who lived in her apartment complex. Always so loud with the parties. Couldnāt they have any sympathy for the friendless lame-o that was Amar.
Let her drink in peace.
As Amar stumbled through her apartment, she clutched the neck of 2025 bottle of cheap gas station whiskey. Good year. And then she guzzled it like gas to a car.
Wobbling to her room, she tripped over her cat, Sniffles, and landed on her face. Sniffles, the orange and white devil she found under a bench 2 years ago, was ever the support animal. Like a sweetie, he promptly hissed at her and bat her face with more force than necessary.
āMissed you too.ā She grumbled. As she turned over and took another swing of alcohol, her unfocused eyes drifted to a book under her bed. āSpells for the Lonely.ā Rude. So when the universe decided to gift her with free reading material, it came with a side of self reflection.
Groaning, Amar grabbed the book and sat up. In the table of contents she saw a spell called āBonding with aā¦ā the last word was scratched out. Bonding with a what? Whatever. She was a bit impaired due to the 75 cent bottle of alcohol, and minor concussion from that fall.
āYou know what, I can bond with a āblankā or whatever.ā She grumbled. Itās not like magic was real anyway. Sheāll just pretend she summoned a new cat. One that didnāt smack her in the face all the time.
She gathered the material required. Salt, candles, snacks (that last one was her idea), and followed the instructions to the letter. She made a big circle out of salt and then surrounded it was candles. All she had were the bath and bodyworks fall collection but the room smell divine. Then she placed a bar of chocolate (Butterfinger) in the middle of the circle.
āAlright Sniffles. Get ready to say hello to your replacement.ā
Sniffles hissed at her then curled up on Amarās bed.
Amar opened the Book for Losers, or whatever it was called and turned to the summoning page. Then, after clearing her throat an embarrassing amount of times, she finally started reading. It was a language she didnāt understand. She stumbled over the words and likely mispronounced a lot of things, but for the most part she got through it.
āAnd nowā¦ arrive!ā She threw her arms in the air with a flourish and then added a little spin for the fun of it.
Nothing happened. Surprise surprise.
āLooks like Iām stuck with you.ā She mumbled at Sniffles who rolled on his belly and ignored her.
Suddenly her favorite fall collection of bath and bodyworks candles came to life. The fire whoosed in a roar and smoke filled the room. Amar screamed and scrambled under her bed. Then when the smoke started to clear, she saw the shadow of a man. A man with horns.
First, her favorite coffee shop ran out of the good stuff. The good stuff, being hot chocolate. Amar didnāt drink coffee. And when they offered her a free cup of the dreaded bitter beverage, (on the house) she couldnāt have been more insulted! Who goes to cafĆ©s for coffee? The nerve of some people.
Second, when Amar got to work, hot chocolate not in hand, she noticed that her work station was dirty. See, Amaranth used to work a simple office job, that is until she accidently shredded her bossās mistressās purse the in industrial paper shredder. (How cool is an industrial paper shredder? Pretty damn cool.) Afterwards she was promptly fired in front of the entire office. Now, a few weeks and begging later, she had a new job at a doggy daycare. It was nice because dogs didnāt complain when you talked to them for half an hour about why cutting grass in the winter time should be illegal. But now, on the day where Amar had no hot chocolate to boost her morning, she came in to see that her work station, the very place where she bathes her dogs, was completely dirty.
āJeremy!ā She snapped, looked around for the tall lanky redhead. āDid you wash one of your dogs in my work station?ā
He peeked out from around the corner and scrunched his nose. āWhy would I do that?ā
They both paused for a few seconds.
āWell did you?ā Amar asked. Jeremy responded in the most mature way he was capable. By snorting and flipping her off. Then he walked away to take inventory or murder babies or whatever it was that monsters like him did.
āUggghhh,ā Amar kicked the dog bath and then yelped. āFuck!ā She screamed, super lady-like. And there it was. The third shitty thing that happened today. The worst things come in 3s.
After a long day of dog washing and chasing puppies through the kitchen to wrangle them for naptime, Amar was finally set free from her 9 to 5 and allowed to go home. Her home, which was a small apartment on the west side of the city. Did the W in āWestā stand for āWorstā? Because it was the fucking worse. Her hot water was gone, the lock on her front door was broken (welcome all murders! Amar was completely unprotected), and her neighborhood was littered with unsavory characters. The worst ones were the people who lived in her apartment complex. Always so loud with the parties. Couldnāt they have any sympathy for the friendless lame-o that was Amar.
Let her drink in peace.
As Amar stumbled through her apartment, she clutched the neck of 2025 bottle of cheap gas station whiskey. Good year. And then she guzzled it like gas to a car.
Wobbling to her room, she tripped over her cat, Sniffles, and landed on her face. Sniffles, the orange and white devil she found under a bench 2 years ago, was ever the support animal. Like a sweetie, he promptly hissed at her and bat her face with more force than necessary.
āMissed you too.ā She grumbled. As she turned over and took another swing of alcohol, her unfocused eyes drifted to a book under her bed. āSpells for the Lonely.ā Rude. So when the universe decided to gift her with free reading material, it came with a side of self reflection.
Groaning, Amar grabbed the book and sat up. In the table of contents she saw a spell called āBonding with aā¦ā the last word was scratched out. Bonding with a what? Whatever. She was a bit impaired due to the 75 cent bottle of alcohol, and minor concussion from that fall.
āYou know what, I can bond with a āblankā or whatever.ā She grumbled. Itās not like magic was real anyway. Sheāll just pretend she summoned a new cat. One that didnāt smack her in the face all the time.
She gathered the material required. Salt, candles, snacks (that last one was her idea), and followed the instructions to the letter. She made a big circle out of salt and then surrounded it was candles. All she had were the bath and bodyworks fall collection but the room smell divine. Then she placed a bar of chocolate (Butterfinger) in the middle of the circle.
āAlright Sniffles. Get ready to say hello to your replacement.ā
Sniffles hissed at her then curled up on Amarās bed.
Amar opened the Book for Losers, or whatever it was called and turned to the summoning page. Then, after clearing her throat an embarrassing amount of times, she finally started reading. It was a language she didnāt understand. She stumbled over the words and likely mispronounced a lot of things, but for the most part she got through it.
āAnd nowā¦ arrive!ā She threw her arms in the air with a flourish and then added a little spin for the fun of it.
Nothing happened. Surprise surprise.
āLooks like Iām stuck with you.ā She mumbled at Sniffles who rolled on his belly and ignored her.
Suddenly her favorite fall collection of bath and bodyworks candles came to life. The fire whoosed in a roar and smoke filled the room. Amar screamed and scrambled under her bed. Then when the smoke started to clear, she saw the shadow of a man. A man with horns.
One last thing!
I am not compatible with people who regularly take a week or more to write back. Iāll get frustrated with the slow pace and then bored. We would need to establish some sort of rapport beforehand. But if we come out the gate with irregular posts before I'm invested, then Iāll very quickly lose interest.
I am okay if you talk to me and let me know that youāre busy for the forseeable future. I'll wait, kid, I promise. W communication. But if once a week is your normal year round, we wonāt work.
Another reason why is that due to my internship/job, I am super available for some months and then very busy for others. So in those chunks of time where I'm able to fucking BREATHE, I want to get as much writing done as possible before I have to go again.
If we have never written together before, please include a writing sample for me in your first message! And if you have your own story idea tell me everything! Not just "Something about monsters." But like... whatās your angle? Where do you see us going?
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