Getting Better

saturnia pavonia

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This wasn't... normal. Nothing about this was normal for Jacob as he clutched the one thing he kept as a possession to bring with him - the pillow his husband had slept with. Pressing it close to his chest, he warily took a seat on the bed offered to him.

He just spent a half hour with a crisis counselor, which only made him freak out despite the counselor's attempt to calm him down. Then he had to wait on a gurney for at least an hour beside his sister, every time the two attempted to speak, it would just lead to awkward silence. She was mostly there to make sure he didn't run away for some reason, yet also to make sure he didn't have to be strapped down to stop him from hurting himself. He wasn't there by his own volition, after all, though he didn't really protest. If he were, to be honest with himself, Jake knew fully that if he stepped back into their cozy apartment, just the fact that the smell of his deceased husband would probably send him into vomiting and he'd just try a more effective way to kill himself.

That's what made it worse. He failed. He couldn't even kill himself right which, while it was a dark thought, showed just how his and Chris' relationship worked. Everything he did, Chris could do better. It never affected their relationship and he often relied heavily on Chris' superior skills to help him, so the fact that he could kill himself successfully made him chuckle internally.

The whole hospital scene was strange for him. Not once in his life did he step into one, often just going to a family doctor if needed. The white walls and the constant beeping only made him scared which only raised his anxiety which, unsurprisingly, made him feel worse. When he was weighed and measured, though, he at least took some comfort in it. He was given a wristband that seemed impossible to cut off without scissors and his things were checked through thoroughly. His floss was gone, his trainers were locked up, and the only thing he was able to keep clothing wise was his favorite sweatshirt to keep him warm. His shirt and pants were replaced with some hospital issued scrubs that he immediately dreaded since the forest green clashed with his sweatshirt.

All he was left with was his pillow, as stated prior, and a book to read. Before even stepping into the room beside a nurse he was handed a notebook and a pen, insisting that he write his feelings down. The whole situation was confusing and nervewracking and he just... didn't want to be there. He didn't know where else to go but it wasn't here. Only half listening to the nurse babble on, Jake instead took in the bland room consisting of only an unbreakable mirror, two beds, and some blankets that were clearly too thick to hang yourself with. It was bland, far from his loft that he and Chris had built character through little knickknacks and photos.

What really freaked him out, though, was the other bed. He didn't really know what to expect but he wasn't prepared to share a space with a stranger, especially not someone who belonged in the psychiatric ward under, assumedly, the same circumstances. Wiggling his slippered feet nervously, he tried to offer the nurse a smile in an attempt to leave him alone. Once she finally did leave, he immediately pressed his face into his pillow to let out a muffled scream.
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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In contrast to Jacob, who had never experienced a situation like this before, Colby's institutionalising was nothing new. The moment he was brought back into the building by his desperate mother, the nurse behind reception immediately sighed at yet another apparent relapse by the young man who had been brought into the hospital on and off for five years running. He was a recognised figure by every nurse and doctor at the facility, who knew almost everything about him at this point. They knew the drugs he favoured, they knew what injuries he had caused himself during periods where he was high and imagining things, and they knew his history; about his father's death and the fact his ex-boyfriend and lifelong friends had seemingly grown tired and left him.

What they hadn't seen from him was a suicide attempt. In the five years they'd grown accustomed to his face popping up in the hospital, never had they gained an inkling that his often depressed state of kind would descend into suicidal thoughts. So, when his mother arrived, sobbing about how she'd found her son overdosed and on the brink of death, they instantly assumed that things were deteriorating and that this stay under their care had to be more serious. It was easy for them to relax around Colby, given the familiarity between him and them, but hearing he had tried to commit suicide added a new element of seriousness that hadn't been there before.

Of course, the moment he entered and the two hours or so it took to examine him and get him checked back in, he attempted fiercely to tell them that it was all a mistake. He hadn't tried to kill himself, even if he knew that nobody would believe him when they saw the circumstances leading up to the overdose. His ex-boyfriend and the band he had been in were starting to get noticed, and he had been trailing through his ex boyfriend's Instagram account just before he overdosed. To anyone else, it would look like he'd had enough and overdosed to rid him of his issues, but it had truly been an accident. And yet, he was back in the hospital, knowing he wasn't going to get out easily this time. Not now they thought he really was a danger to himself, more so than ever before.

"I didn't try to off myself, Leigh. I swear, it was a fucking accident. Like, if I wanted to kill myself, I'd go in style, I wouldn't overdose, that's... nah, I wouldn't--" He began as he trailed after the nurse down the corridor, frowning as she easily blocked him out. He was good friends with most the nurses after his various stints at the hospital, to the point where a few of them genuinely got upset that he was back again and apparently suicidal. The fact the nurse, Leigh, was ignoring him wasn't to be rude or mean - she just couldn't face answering him or risk growing upset.

"...I'm sharing a room, huh?" He blurted once arriving in the basic room, holding his few things in his arms as he took into account the other person already on one of the beds. Having turned to talk more to Leigh, hoping she would agree to let him make a phone call, he grimaced when noticing how quickly she shut the door behind herself, and in her absence, he groaned and moved to the spare bed. Every inch of his body ached acutely and he was already starting to fidget in response to not having had a fix today, which wasn't ideal when he was meeting someone new. He knew that he looked like a drug addict, that there was no mistaking the various marks along his arms, but he did still want to give a good impression. Fidgeting about and biting at the skin around his fingers wasn't the greatest way to introduce himself.

"So, you're my roommate then, huh? I, uh... I take it you're new here? I ain't seen your face around and I've been coming since I was 18, so... hey, you'll be alright. It's pretty neat here. They do great food, really nice stuff, so... that's a plus-- I'm Colby, but CJ is fine, that's what everyone else calls me, anyway."
 

saturnia pavonia

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It wasn’t until he heard the chattering between the nurse and Colby that Jacob shyly peeked our from his pillow. Sniffling back his runny nose and wiping his eyes clean of tears, he took in the other man warily. It didn’t take a genius to notice the track marks on his arms and his generally sickly appearance, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him uncomfortable, thought he believed in treating everyone with the respect he wanted in return.

“I’m... I’m Jacob, but you can call me Jake,” he offered as he moved to slowly get to his feet. Much like the other, his entire body was aching, though through a lack of sleep rather than drugs. He was more emotionally fucked over than physically, after all. Being raised in a highly Catholic family, he was taught to have to be polite to others and that extended to Colby, as was evidence by his outstretched.

“Ah... yeah, this is my first time here. First time in a hospital, in fact,” he admitted with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I-I... I’m absolutely terrified, to be honest, I always expected my first time to a hospital wouldn’t be alone,” he explained, though the words only made him tear up. “Uh... why are you here? You seemed to have a lot to say to that nurse, huh?”
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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Based on the first minute of knowing Jake, Colby decided that he liked him. He was kind enough to ask him where he was here, even if it was perfectly obvious that he had issues with drugs. He'd shared rooms with a few people over the years, and most of them barely hesitated to point out the fact he was a drug-taker, as though openly pointing it out was perfectly fine to do int he company of a man they had just met. Instantly, he appreciated the fact Jake politely asked, rather than point out the obvious. He had no problem admitting that he took drugs (because denying it would be idiotic), but he wanted to admit to it on his own terms, not have some stranger point it out to him. Everyone in the place had their issues, and he'd shared rooms with people who, like Jake, had admitted to end their own lives. That didn't mean he had to like them, but thankfully, Jake was an exception-- for now, anyway.

"Leigh and I go way back. She was the first nurse here when I first got admitted, and I've always been readmitted, so we've become friends. I got... issues with drugs, I guess. Now, I don't think I'm an addict, but everyone else thinks I am. I'm a grown ass man, and my mother basically forces me here every single time I dabble with a little heroin. Like, I can totally handle it. I overdose once fucking time, and I'm in here 'cos they think I did it deliberately. It's just... it's a mess. I don't mind that much, though. Like I said, this place is alright, you'll be fine," he promised as casually as he could, well aware he'd started to rant which he had the unfortunate habit of doing, especially when he was going through his withdrawal symptoms. Sitting in silence rarely ever helped, whilst talking aloud to someone at least gave him a distraction from how shitty he felt. Most roommate couldn't deal with him talking and babbling on, so he did try his best to cut himself off from his tangent before it became obvious that he liked to talk. A lot.

"So, you're in here for... a suicide attempt? You have to learn to be honest in this place, that's rule number one. Honesty. They're pretty big on that," he continued, shrugging as he flopped onto his bed and rested his arms over his stomach, which still ached to this day after his self-inflicted attack. "...That's rough, dude, but everyone here has issues and problems like that. We're all in the same boat, I guess-- besides me. Like I said, I didn't overdose on purpose, it was an accident and they... assumed I'd done it purposely. Long story, really..."
 

saturnia pavonia

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“I like to listen,” he insisted. After all, if he was listening it meant he didn’t have to talk. The whole thing was beyond embarrassing, being forced into the suicide unit so not talking about his stupidity was better for everyone around.

Tugging his legs to his feet, he offered a shy smile from over the pillow he pressed tightly to his chest. He would cling to it until he wasn’t allowed to anymore, after all, and he took comfort in it as he pressed his cheek against it.

“Tell me about yourself, seriously. I’m... I’m boring. I’m just a s-sad idiot who didn’t do the job right, I guess. You’re not supposed to be here, that’s interesting,” he encouraged, his raw fingers digging into the feathered pillow. “I like learning about others, it’s... fun. Plus, who knows how long we’ll be together?”
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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"I mean, when I say I shouldn't be here, I mean for attempted suicide. God knows I need help. I don't think I'm addicted, but still, I shouldn't do drugs. It ain't really good for you. Like, I can't walk without being in pain, so that's pretty shitty for someone who's only 23," he shrugged, tapping his fingers on his knee in an attempt to cope. Every fibre of his being was crying out for something to take the edge of. He wasn't really fond of reality these days, preferring to escape it by getting high. He much preferred life when he was high and didn't have to face the consequences of his choices. He'd lost everything that made life good because of the crappy choices he made, prioritising drugs over them, and yet, ironically, it was drugs that he turned to to help deal with that.

"So, you wanna know about me, yeah? Like I said, I'm Colby -or CJ- and... I'm 23. I'm from the East End, I used to be in a band, which was really cool, I guess. I'm an addict, I'm pretty fucked up, and... I'm gonna be here for a while, this time. Usually I'm here for a few months, but... yeah, I think I really fucked up this time. But hey, gives me a chance to get to know you, doesn't it? You seem cool. The last guy I shared a room with -Allen- was a total weirdo. And really fucking rude, too. You at least seem nice."
 

saturnia pavonia

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“Thank you. Most people just think I’m a pushover,” he admitted quietly as he absently nibbled on the corner of the pillow to at least stop his urge to shake. Shooting his eyes anywhere else, they landed on the door, his small frown hidden by the pillow.

“I just... I want to know what kind of music you listen to,” he declared quietly. “I’m not a big music person, to be honest, but I’d like to know what you’re into. We played a lot of folk and classical back home, but that was mostly for Chris. I don’t like a lot of lyrics, too much to focus on,” he admitted as he ran a finger down his pants, tracing the seam.
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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"Uh, a lot of rock and punk music, a little bit of indie, sometimes a cheesy pop song if it had a catchy beat. Never listened to classical stuff, not really my jam, but to each his own and all that, right? Listen, I'm not going to ask why you tried to off yourself, 'cos it ain't my business. That's for you and the doctors to go over, but... hey, you'll be alright here. Most guys are nervous and stuff, but it's a legitimately good place. It ain't a proper rehab place, which probably explains why I haven't really... been helped off my drug habit, but still, it'll help you out, I'm sure," he began as comfortingly as he could manage. He might be a total asshole sometimes, especially when he was going through withdrawal, but right now, he was in a surprisingly chipper mood considering he'd been institutionalised again, this time without knowing when his release date would be. Part of his good mood came from having a roommate who seemed nice, albeit a tad quiet.

"So, Chris. He's a mate or a boyfriend or something, then? That's cool. See, i don't have any friends, so... it's my fault, really. Nobody wants to be mates with a guy who steals their shit and sells it to buy drugs, I guess."
 

saturnia pavonia

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“Husband.” He corrected quickly. He had spent nearly all of their relationship being ‘mates’ to other people so once they were adults, he was eager to spread to the world about their relationship. Sure, they’d still be looked down upon a tad but it was from people they could just cut from their lives. “Chris was my husband, yes. He’s not - he’s not with... with us, anymore, aha...” he awkwardly whispered, though his cracked voice showed his discomfort well.

“I’d like to be your friend,” he suggested quietly as he tried to ignore his upset, going as far as to offer a smile. “I mean, you’re the first person I’ve really properly spoke to in two weeks. Granted, I was in a coma but my sister and I hardly ‘talked’.”
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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Hearing from a stranger that he had lost his husband and that he had recently been in a coma was a lot to take in, but Colby genuinely wasn't put off by the bouts of honesty. He appreciated someone who could be honest like this, even if he was very aware that he wasn't quite as honest as he expected others around him to be. Deep down, of course he knew he was addicted to drugs. He wouldn't be institutionalised as often as he was if he didn't have some sort of dependency on them.

"...Hey, sorry to hear that. About your husband. That's rough, pal. Is that why you tried to, like... end it? God, don't answer that, that's too intrusive and we just met, yeah? Let's talk about something more upbeat and less fucking rude," he awkwardly laughed, quickly cutting himself off from venturing down that personal path. He wouldn't want someone asking him about his dead father if he'd just met them, after all. "...But yeah, we can be mates. I'm totally lacking in that department, not gonna lie. Drug dealers aren't mates, and I'm close to my mother, but it's kinda sad to say she's my only friend, y'know? So sure, we can be mates, I'd like that."
 
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saturnia pavonia

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“Yes, I tried to kill myself because of my husband.” He replied flatly after a moment of silence. With his eyes drifting towards the ground Jake only squeezed his pillow tighter. It felt like it was the only thing holding him to reality at the moment, after all and, while it was pathetic, he clung to it desperately. If anyone took it away from him, he’d freak the fuck out most likely.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have many friends. Most of them were Chris’, he was a lot more social than me. When he left, I realized they didn’t have much in common with me, so... I guess the only friend I have anymore is my sister, we’re both pathetic, I guess,” he nervously laughed before bending over wearily. “We can be pathetic together.”
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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"I mean, if it helps, I'm obviously more pathetic than you are. If it's a competition, I've won, let's just put it that way. I'm pretty... sad. But that's also fucking depressing, and I think they encourage you to try and be cheerful around here, rather than dwell on how pathetic we all are," he pointed out, letting a genuinely relieved smile show on his lips. The last thing he wanted was to offend the guy he'd just met, especially when he did seem nice and was his only real shot at friendship in the place, outside of the nurses he'd managed to charm.

"Do you need to call anyone? Your sister or something? They monitor our conversations, and that isn't really fun, but... look, I trust you enough to keep this to yourself. Leigh sometimes lends me her mobile so I can make a call without the big guys knowing about it. I just don't like the thought of them listening in on my conversation, you know? But uh... I'm totally happy to convince Leigh to help you out if you needed to call someone without them documenting every fucking word."
 

saturnia pavonia

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“There’s no one to talk to,” he reassured before eyeing the room warily for any cameras. While he didn’t - and would never - do anything wrong to someone else, the idea of being watched without knowing gave him anxiety... though most things did that, anyway.

“My parents have shunned me out completely and my sister is only nice to me out of sympathy, I think. We came from a religious household so when me and Chris finally came out, they just decided I wasn’t their son anymore, I guess. My sister was already out of the house by then but she didn’t seem to care. We were raised on ‘tough love’ and whatnot, and it seems that, that idea has been engrained in her head or whatever. So... no, I don’t really know anyone to call, you can use all the calls you want,” he reassured quietly before offering a halfhearted smile.
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
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"...The Doc's going to love you when you go to therapy. You're really open and that's good, seriously. He'll like that. Most patients here ain't so... accommodating with him, me included. I'm a right pain in this ass, he's told me that himself. I don't really tell them a lot of stuff, even though I totally should," babbled Colby, his lips pursing a little more as he -with genuine interest- listening to the other's further bout of honesty. His experiences weren't necessarily anything he could relate to, other than the loss of a loved one. He hadn't been raised religiously, and he was in constant contact with his own mother, however much they bickered and butted heads.

"I only call my mum, you know? She worries. I'm her only kid, she never remarried or dated again after Dad died, so I'm all she has. I just call her, it ain't like I have a whole group of friends. I'd just rather call her without them listening," he explained, despite the grimace that grew. He did feel guilty knowing that he wasn't being at all honest, in comparison to the stranger that seemingly was willing to be open about his experiences. He also knew opening up was good for him, and considering he hadn't tried it much before, there was always a time to start.

"I mean, I... call my ex-boyfriend a lot. He doesn't answer, obviously. Can't blame him, really. I got high once, sort of broke his finger-- again, long story-- but hey, you're safe. I'm not exactly going to get high in this place."
 

saturnia pavonia

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Genre You DON'T Like
Furry
“Jesus... really?” He whispered in horror. Despite his horrified expression, though, Jake was able to snort in disbelief enough to smile. “That’s... oof. Broken fingers, yeah? He was in a band, right? You... You’ve lived a pretty crazy life, haven’t you? I mean, my life pales in comparison to yours, I suppose,” he admitted as he fiddled with the tag on the pillow case.

“I’m not a very, Ah... physical person, I guess. Chris, though? He was wild. One time, him and I were trying to sneak in a quick makeout session behind one of the bushes in the courtyard but this one kid saw and threatened to tell. His reaction was to nearly break the kid’s skull open,” he explained, his eyes glassy in thought. “That was about it, though. We both nearly were suspended and that would have only blown our cover, y’know?”
 
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potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
3pm - 1am (GMT / BST)
Writing Levels
Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Meh, depends really. I tend to be more aggressive I suppose, but I find a good balance with my roleplaying partner and adjust my style accordingly.
Favorite Genres
Horror, gore, bloodiness, monsters, supernatural, fantasy, romance, criminality... I could go on.
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, sci-fi, boring high-school, slice of life genres that are bland and don't have some twists somewhere.
"Yeah, he's a guitarist, so I might have fucked that up for him for a while-- but he's a douche, don't go feeling sorry for the fucker. I did shitty things, I get that, but he still dumped and abandoned me when I needed him the most, so... so he deserved it. God, I don't wanna talk about him, he doesn't deserve me, like, getting upset about him," he groaned, moving to lay onto his stomach with his own pillow clutched up into his arms. He never really got the chance to discuss Foster with anyone but his mother, who wasn't very helpful on the issue when all she could say was 'move on'. Talking about him now, to a total stranger, wasn't something he was comfortable doing, even if Jake seemed perfectly happy talking about his husband.

"...He sounds nice. I mean, your relationship sounds like it was nice, Jake," he complimented quietly, offering a smile over at him while his hair fell over his eyes, angrily brushing it back. He had refused to get a haircut purely because he didn't trust his hairdresser, having grown paranoid that the man was out to kill him. "But dude, I'd have preferred a quiet life to the life I have, it's not fun. Look at me. Do I look like my life's fun? You can be honest. I know I look like shit."
 

saturnia pavonia

local non-binary edgelord
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
12 pm-10:30 pm (with some exceptions)
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Passive more, though occasionally I'll do aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Mystery, Scifi, Romance, Yaoi, Yuri, Horror
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry
“You don’t look like shit,” he reassured with a small smile of encouragement. “Ah... you don’t look, up... good, to be honest, but I’ve seen people much worse. Though, I’m... I’m glad you’re here, I suppose. You need help, and so do I...? We can do this together,” he insisted slowly, cautious with his words. After all, while trusted Colby not to hurt him, he wasn’t a fan of confrontation to begin with so to be confrontational with a drug addict was a no-no. He remembered spending nights watching television with Chris and have a show featuring a drug addict. While he wasn’t very aware of it, Jake and Chris seemed rather privileged to be able to avoid having to see the horrors of drug addiction from where they were from.

“I’m sorry, I just - I just want to remember him as a good person so talking about him reassured me, sort of? I still miss him a-and... I’m sorry for dumping this all on you, I just haven’t been able to talk to anyone,” He babbled quietly, his cheeks reddening as he bashfully sank further into his bed.
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
3pm - 1am (GMT / BST)
Writing Levels
Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Meh, depends really. I tend to be more aggressive I suppose, but I find a good balance with my roleplaying partner and adjust my style accordingly.
Favorite Genres
Horror, gore, bloodiness, monsters, supernatural, fantasy, romance, criminality... I could go on.
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, sci-fi, boring high-school, slice of life genres that are bland and don't have some twists somewhere.
"Oh hey, dude, I get it. Talk about him all you want. I'm a big fan of those romance movies, so hearing about how your relationship was is nice, makes me believe I could have that one day. I ain't going to, I know that, but I can dream. Seriously, talk until your throat hurts, I'm fine with that. It's nice to share a room with someone who isn't grabbing me by the throat and threatening me. I've had some pretty wild roomies before," he shrugged casually, his eyes glancing back over at the nervous newcomer with as comforting a smile as he could manage. It was surprisingly comforting for him to be able to offer advice and encourage someone along like this. It had been a while since he could feel relaxed around someone new. Usually, he was paranoid they were out to do him harm, but he trusted Jake not to do that, even if they'd just met.

"...Hey, do you wanna come and watch TV or something? If we run, we can get to the jigsaw before the old gals do, and what says fun like a jigsaw?" He snorted, pushing himself from the bed and sighing when hearing a crack come from his stiffened bones. "I mean, this ain't a prison. We can go and hang out in the main room, or talk a walk around the gardens. It's pretty... open here?"
 

saturnia pavonia

local non-binary edgelord
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
12 pm-10:30 pm (with some exceptions)
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Passive more, though occasionally I'll do aggressive
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Mystery, Scifi, Romance, Yaoi, Yuri, Horror
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry
“I... I didn’t know that,” he admitted quietly as he nervously fiddled with his wristband. “I’ve never been in a hospital before, period, so... anyway, yeah. That sounds good, I suppose,” he declared before slowly climbing from his own bed, despite clearly being hesitant. The smell of the hospital was making him nauseous and he had just had hours to marinate in the smell, strapped to a gurney. The smell seemed to be lighter in their small room and the idea of smelling the sterile scent of the hospital made his stomach churn.

“Puzzles are fun, yeah. Just the right amount of mindless,” he murmured, more so to himself. “I’m not very good at them, to be honest. I get pretty frustrated with that sort of thing. A ton of tiny little pieces in a pile? Makes me... uncomfortable.”
 

potassiumboron

~To a mystic place where tears won't cry~
Roleplay Invitations
One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
3pm - 1am (GMT / BST)
Writing Levels
Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Meh, depends really. I tend to be more aggressive I suppose, but I find a good balance with my roleplaying partner and adjust my style accordingly.
Favorite Genres
Horror, gore, bloodiness, monsters, supernatural, fantasy, romance, criminality... I could go on.
Genre You DON'T Like
Furry, sci-fi, boring high-school, slice of life genres that are bland and don't have some twists somewhere.
"It's a decent way of passing the time when you're not in therapy, anyway. You need to find ways of alleviating the boredom or you're really gonna fucking suffer. One guy I met when I was first here didn't learn that and went totally psycho. Honestly, he deteriorated pretty badly and got transferred to a facility down on the coast, it was pretty major news at the time. Went at patients and nurses with sharpened toothbrushes," he began calmly, despite the glint in his eye that took a morbid fascination with relaying the tale. He was perhaps exaggerating a few details here and there to make the news more interesting, but he at least revelled in the majority of it being true. Just because he got creative with the details didn't make it all false.

"Anyway, you'll be fine 'cos I'm a seasoned professional at these places and... I dunno, talking to you helps me. I'm going through withdrawal and it fucking sucks, but talking to you makes me less likely to start punching walls and stuff to deal with the pain, so that's... good."