[h1][b]THE GENERAL STUFF:[/b][/h1][list] [*]18+ mature themes here. Violence, language, drugs, sex, etc. I'm all for dirt and grit. [*]Expect regular posts from me. That being said, I’m absolutely okay with less frequent posts – say weekly or every other week. Every thread is different. Also, the world is a garbage fire due to current events, so I think everyone gets a free pass on some of this stuff. [*]Please understand basic grammar. Know where the punctuation goes in dialogue. I’m the first to admit that I fall into all sorts of traps (I love a good em-dash, I sometimes don’t write complete sentences, commas get lazy, whatever, like this) and humans are humans. If you care slightly more than the average person, we’ll be great. [*]Call me out on my shit. Did I contradict myself, assume something about your character, or write something just…[i]bad?[/i] Tell me! I genuinely want to hear. We’re creating together. [*]I don’t have expectations for post length or content. Write, contribute to the story, acknowledge my post in a few ways, etc. Sometimes I’ll write a thousand words, and sometimes it will be a handful of sentences. I’ll work with what you give me. [*]No fandoms or pre-made characters. I don’t want to be in someone else’s sandbox. Don’t get me wrong, I love reading a lot of it, but writing it just doesn’t work out for me. [*]I’d like to stick with something modern and contemporary. I get too bogged down in world-building, historical settings, etc. [*]MxF mostly. If it matters, I’m a woman who writes women and men with equal frequency. I’m pretty indifferent about which side I play. [*]Last, please spare me your soft porn. I’m all in for the occasional sexy time, but if that’s your priority, let me save you the effort now.[/list] Let’s make some characters, pick a plot, and drop them in the water! Stay true to your creation and don’t be afraid to fight with my character or cause drama. I revel in the moment where things are going horribly and I doubt if they’re ever going to fix it. People sometimes have a tendency to be garbage, and I enjoy exploring how humans behave at their worst or weakest – I’m a fighter for the underdog. And now the fun stuff! [h1][b]THEMES:[/b][/h1] Crime Addiction/recovery Infidelity Power differences Melodrama Military Scars/injuries [h1][b]PLOTS:[/b][/h1] I’m 100% open to changing or mashing together any of these. They’re designed to get the juices flowing and show you a bit of what I’m looking for. [u][b]Soldier x Widow[/b][/u] After her husband dies overseas, a small-town mother reluctantly accepts the help of her brother-in-law with the house. [u][b]Politician x Bodyguard[/b][/u] He’s charged with protecting her, but as the differences between her public and private life become difficult to mitigate, he decides to set parameters. [u][b]Cop x Informant[/b][/u] His best source works at a seedy, downtown strip club. He often has to choose between her safety and his, but when the law becomes blurry, so does his judgment. [u][b]Detective x Detective[/b][/u] It’s been a few years since the big, unsolved case that drove their careers apart. When new evidence arises, they agree to take on that old case, but their personal bullshit threatens their ability to get the job done. [h1]WRITING SAMPLE:[/h1] Because I’m new to the site, and there’s not a lot of my stuff on the boards yet -- [hider=Altar Offering] [b]2018[/b] Max called her. No answer. He called her again. No answer. He called her a third time and left a voicemail. “Fuck you,” he mumbled. “Fuck you for all those times I didn’t say it. I might hate you. I think I just fucking might. Fuck you. I hate every time you sit next to me. I hate that I keep getting you stupid fucking coffee and you don’t even fucking look at me. Fuck you. Fuck you -- ” The answering service cut him off. He hung his head in his hands as the parking garage spun. He had to call her again. He couldn’t leave her with that kind of message. “Listen, I meant what I said in my last voicemail. Truly. Fuck you. But also, I understand. I know what it’s like to feel stuck, to try to make it work. And I hope you’re happy. I hope you get your family and your yard. I want you to be happy. You'll be happy and I’ll be happy, separately, far from each other. I don’t know, I might...build something. Move away. Quit this job that’s killing us -- ” [i]If you’re finished recording your message, hang up. If you’d like to…[/i] What an absurd pile of shit he’d gotten himself into now. Max had been good for the last few months, but he ruined all of it with a few drunk voicemails. He told himself one more message. Just one more. Make the shit pile bigger. It rang and rang. “Hey, Max? It’s Jason.” Max blinked and sat up in his truck. “Hey -- ” “Is everything okay? Logan is in the shower. I can grab her if you need to talk to her.” His head was full of wet cotton. “No. Don’t. I was just...” “It’s okay,” Jason said patiently. Max pictured him just home for work, loosening his tie and peeking in the fridge for leftovers while Logan’s phone rang and rang and rang on the kitchen table. “You don’t have to explain.” “I’m sorry for bothering you.” “It’s okay.” A copied response in a copied tone. Jason was a therapist. “I’ll tell her you called.” [b]2015[/b] He kept his eyes closed because it was too bright to be awake. Sleep was dark and quiet. Better yet, dying was permanent sleep. Max was shot during a traffic stop. He made the news. National. Late-night pundits talked about him. [i]You guys have heard about Max Parkland, right? The super cop. Pretty sure he’s half robot. He pulls a guy over for speeding, gets shot in the neck and instead of -- you know, dying -- like everyone else would have, he beats the shooter to death with his own gun. He’s insane. It’s all on the dash cam. And Parkland is still alive. He’s in ICU. My thoughts, as well as everyone’s at the studio, are with Officer Parkland and his family.[/i] Sometimes the light would get under his eyelids and he’d see things. Weird things. Like Logan Montgomery’s face. Whether it was real or not, he felt her slip her fingers between his. She touched every scar, bruise, and cut on his hand, the one that had killed the shooter. It was weird because she’d quit the force the year before -- she’d moved across the country and coached track and field at a high school in northern California. He knew all of this in his head, which was why it was weird for him to see her in his hospital room. So goddamn weird. He didn’t see her again for another six months. If she had visited him while he was in the hospital, she never said so, and he never asked. [/hider] [h1]UPDATES:[/h1] 01/30/21: Give me anything melodramatic. I'm not picky. Please respond via PM! Thanks, friends. See you out there!