Hello and welcome one and all to Thrills & Chills or, "The Vein Braider's Search for Long-Term, Quality Writing Partners."
I'm your host, The Vein Braider, a 30-year-old woman from Canada (MST) with over 16 years of play-by-post roleplaying experience. I primarily write, read, and roleplay within the horror or horror-adjacent genres. These are my terms of service:
▸ Literacy. I consider myself an advanced writer who aims to consistently produce well-written, plot-pushing posts for my partners. I only ask for the same in return.
▸ Commitment. I can usually write a minimum of one or two posts a week and enjoy brainstorming, plotting, and chatting OOC on a semi-regular basis. I would appreciate a similar level of commitment but understand that real life comes first.
▸ Limits. I'm not a particularly squeamish person. Descriptions of violence, gore, substance abuse, nudity, and sex are all on the table if they make sense within the context of the story.
▸ Smut. I will happily write smut as per my aforementioned limits but I want to make it clear here and now that I am not interested in smut-centric roleplays. Period.
▸ Gender Roles. I write women. I write men. I don't have a preference for one over the other. If romance is involved, I am open to MxF or FxF couplings at this time.
For those of you still with me, cheers! Please take a moment to skim the original-ish plot ideas below before contacting me via PM.
▸ A Pound of Flesh (Occult Detective / Horror) - Closed
A young witch spends her days attending to Seattle's magically afflicted, those whose illnesses would otherwise be untreatable by modern medicine. It is her own affliction, however, that has thus far escaped her attempts at treatment.
A demonic curse inadvertently obtained during her time as an apprentice, as her symptoms have worsened so too has her desperation to find a cure.
It is this desperation that leads to her ritual invocation of the apocalyptic angel Abaddon, the abyssal king of destruction and plague.. The ritual gives Abaddon a fledgling corporeal form, the flesh of which she hopes to distill into the medicine needed to cure her condition. Unfortunately, even in his most vulnerable state, the angel proves far stronger than the witch anticipated and easily escapes her attempts at binding it.
Leaving a trail of corruption and suffering in its wake, and gaining power at an alarming rate, the witch reluctantly seeks the aid of an infamous occult detective to stop Abaddon before he can fulfill his apocalyptic prerogative.
▸ In the Pines (Folk Horror / Drama) - Closed
In an attempt to salvage their marriage and rescue her husband from his worsening alcoholism, a woman accepts a summer position as a fire lookout observer in the remote Canadian wilderness.
The couple is transported to their assigned site by helicopter and left with assurances that help is but a radio transmission away. But as they settle into their new routine, the idyllic location feels ever more isolated—and increasingly sinister.
As tensions rise, old wounds resurface and painful revelations are made, nature taking its course as things go from bad to worse.
▸ Arrhythmia (Supernatural Horror) - Taken
After having a heart attack, a woman living in the coastal community of Comox, BC receives a life-saving heart transplant. As she recovers at home, she finds herself beginning to act out of character and is haunted by increasingly disturbing visions.
When an RCMP Serious Crimes investigator appears on her doorstep and reveals he suspects her donor was ritually murdered—and that those involved might have chosen her as their next victim—the two of them must work together to unravel the diabolical conspiracy at work before it's too late.
▸ Ghost to Ghost Investigations (Drama / Supernatural Horror) - Closed
A married pair of paranormal investigators—a psychic medium and an amateur demonologist, respectively—traverse North America living and working out of their motorhome as they probe alleged cases of hauntings, demonic possession, and other unexplained phenomena.
Mike summoned every shred of self-control the heat hadn't yet stripped away to keep himself from rolling his eyes—although he was pretty sure one of them gave an involuntary twitch nonetheless. He couldn't work, he couldn't sleep, and now his dear, precious wife didn't want him to even attempt to figure out what the goddamn smell was.
He sucked in several sharp, exaggerated breaths through his nose, "No, no. I definitely smell it now." He bluffed, nodding his head solemnly, "I'm going to take a look."
He turned his back on her to retrieve his grey sweatpants from the bedroom floor, pulling them up to his belly button, tugging at the drawstrings until he was confident they were going to stay up. He had lost weight recently, probably a little too much, skipping meals so he could keep working and replying to the growing list of consult requests and follow-up emails and social media comments at all hours of the day and night. Half-dressed, he turned back to Allie, thumping his sticky bare chest twice with a closed fist, "I am man. Man go find smell." he said in his best caveman impression, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Mike sidled past Allie, pausing to lightly kiss her nose, her cheek, her lips, as the gap between their bodies disappeared. It was their 'secret handshake;' one part affectionate gesture, one part 'don't say another word because my mind is made up and you can't stop me, nah, nah, nah.'
"It'll just take a second." He said.
He reached the door and snatched the heavy-duty torchlight from its hook to the right of the entryway, click, click, clicking it on and off until he was satisfied it was in working order. He cracked the door, casting Allie a reassuring smile over his shoulder—Everything is going to be just fine—then descended the narrow steps into the darkness.
The air outside of the RV was just as close and stifling as it was inside, minus the suffocating stench of their B.O. Mike breathed in deeply, his chest filling with the swampy, sulphurous smell of pluff mud and earthy Spanish moss—and absolutely nothing else. The cicadas screamed and screamed from the black.
He panned the flashlight over the gravel, swinging it up into the trees that loomed around them, then toward the manor, being careful to avoid shining his light into the windows of their clients' home. Nothing. Nothing. Oh wow, look at that, more nothing. Shocking, he thought, beginning his stroll around the RV swinging open compartments, searching with his light, and finding zero, zip, zilch, nada.
He got down on his hands and knees, sweeping the light under the rusty belly of their RV, sweat dripping off the end of his nose with an irritating tickle as he craned his neck to look this way and that. Not a damn thing.
He pressed his palms into the gravel with a sigh and was pushing himself back out from under the vehicle when the lightning bolt CA-RACK of a tree branch snapping in half made him jerk with surprise, thwacking the back of his skull against the RV as he scrambled backwards and planted himself firmly on his ass in the gravel, legs sprawled out in front of him.
"Shit," he growled through gritted teeth, rubbing the lump already beginning to swell on his head. His flashlight had rolled away toward the treeline in his—embarrassing—moment of panic, and now cut a narrow swath of white light into the crowded, eerie darkness of the underbrush from where it lay, just beyond his reach.
Dumbass, he chided himself, and then, with a prickly, hair-raising sensation crawling up his neck, he realized that the cicadas had gone quiet all around him.
Mike tensed, his heart doing a summersault in his chest as something rumbled low and began to drag itself through the woods. He squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the gravel, willing himself to stay calm. His head throbbed. His skin crawled. Sweat trickled down his back in itchy ribbons. Something was breathing hollowly, grumbling, clicking, moving, watching him. He held his breath, eyes snapping open as he made a mad dash to his feet, scooping up the flashlight and jabbing it in the direction of the something.
Two unblinking beady black eyes glowed back at him from where the alligator lay several feet away, its huge body and short, stumpy limbs sprawled in the damp sediment at the edge of the treeline, its head craned upwards to bare its jagged teeth at him as it growled and growled. Mike took three quick, stumbling steps back toward the RV, his calf finally bumping against the stairs, and swung around to leap back inside, snapping the door shut behind him.
The torch clattered to the kitchen floor as he doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard, "Holy fucking shit!"
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