K
Kurrang
Guest
Original poster
Greetings reader! Thanks for stopping by my thread.
First, I will give you the low-down on 'me'. I'm 21, female, I work 6 days most weeks, I'm a collage student and I'm Australian. Thus, my time zone is a little out of whack in correlation to the rest of the world, and my line of work doesn't really tolerate tired employees. SO, depending on your schedule, we might only be able to exchange messages once a day.
I'm an avid lover of anything Urban Fantasy. Vampires are amazing; Gouls are awesome; Werewolves are wicked, so on and so forth. I also enjoy dystopia. I prefer playing male characters, and favour heterosexual relationships if there is to be one. Please do not consider this discriminative, it is simply what I am most comfortable with.
I'm fairly confident in my writing skills, although I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm any kind of advanced. Naturally, my style is going to vary greatly depending on my partner. I am not going to write six paragraphs from six sentences of bear basic gestures and speech. Having said that, I certainly don't expect you to write half a novel every time you respond. I greatly prefer Quality over Quantity.
As this has been posted in the Libertine section I think it goes without saying that, yes, I have, can and will write sex scenes. Depending on my partner, this can be anything from suggestive comments to explicit detail. But please, I am always seeking PLOT before smut. The lead up to the point where the characters actually 'do it' is just as much fun and just as important as the scene itself.
I enjoy blood and gore probably more than is healthy, and I don't mind beating up my characters. I also like romance, though I enjoy the romantic build-up more than I do steady relationships or love-sick mushyness. Tough love and a bit of emotional turmoil makes things all the more interesting. And, of course, it doesn't always have to end happily ever after. I'm not a big fan of religious themes.
If you're feeling adventurous, then please do check out my writing sample below...
Anywho! If you're keen, drop me a PM! :)
Cheers
~Kurru
First, I will give you the low-down on 'me'. I'm 21, female, I work 6 days most weeks, I'm a collage student and I'm Australian. Thus, my time zone is a little out of whack in correlation to the rest of the world, and my line of work doesn't really tolerate tired employees. SO, depending on your schedule, we might only be able to exchange messages once a day.
I'm an avid lover of anything Urban Fantasy. Vampires are amazing; Gouls are awesome; Werewolves are wicked, so on and so forth. I also enjoy dystopia. I prefer playing male characters, and favour heterosexual relationships if there is to be one. Please do not consider this discriminative, it is simply what I am most comfortable with.
I'm fairly confident in my writing skills, although I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm any kind of advanced. Naturally, my style is going to vary greatly depending on my partner. I am not going to write six paragraphs from six sentences of bear basic gestures and speech. Having said that, I certainly don't expect you to write half a novel every time you respond. I greatly prefer Quality over Quantity.
As this has been posted in the Libertine section I think it goes without saying that, yes, I have, can and will write sex scenes. Depending on my partner, this can be anything from suggestive comments to explicit detail. But please, I am always seeking PLOT before smut. The lead up to the point where the characters actually 'do it' is just as much fun and just as important as the scene itself.
I enjoy blood and gore probably more than is healthy, and I don't mind beating up my characters. I also like romance, though I enjoy the romantic build-up more than I do steady relationships or love-sick mushyness. Tough love and a bit of emotional turmoil makes things all the more interesting. And, of course, it doesn't always have to end happily ever after. I'm not a big fan of religious themes.
If you're feeling adventurous, then please do check out my writing sample below...
The skies wailed shrilly as yet another helix of knotted light split the heavens in a blinding flash. Overhead,storm clouds were rolling in in a great wave of imposing blackness, illusory clearing the towered skyscrapers by but a hairs width. The sound of the clashing atmosphere was tremendous, booming like boulders tumbling down a mountainside, splintering into pieces as it ricocheted off rock into the valley below. It pored furiously, and the Chicago river was a turbulent against the howl of the wind, churning until it browned a sickly stain in the earth as it sloshed against it's concrete banks.
The city had gone dark; the petty bulb lights adorning the ceilings of the enormous torrents of plane architecture flickering out in awe of the storm as it smothered the earth in it's monstrous black cloak. Few cars rumbled through the streets; even less so did pedestrians scurry over the side walks. The mortals had all hunkered down in their dwellings, no doubt cowering beneath their quilts like terrified rabbits in their burrows. The cunning fox was swift and sly, and it was out to get them.
A lone figure stood defiant of the seething gale along the Riverwalk, the minor contortion of his ambrosial lips conveying a sense of mellow interest as he watched the murky water gurgle and swirl and fold in on itself over and over and over again. He was soaking wet; his hair clung about his face in sodden clumps of bay tresses, and the leather coat that hung from his burly shoulders, teased by the relentless gale of wind, swung heavily about his ankles, weighted down by the water logging it's lining. He seemed unfazed by the onslaught of rain pelting his form, nor did he flinch at the ear-splitting crack of thunder as the black clouds flashed violet.
In fact, Echo Kavanaugh was quite at ease.
It was a rare occurrence for the young man, or so that was as he seemed; the rather sublimely formed fellow appeared perhaps in his early thirties, though - even as he stood quite calmly, relishing in the shelter of the storm - his jade eyes twinkled with an eternal flicker of mischievous youth, and the natural curve of his mouth subtly hinted the potential for a marvellously wicked grin. But for now his face was predominantly slack of any overt expression; his left hip cocked slightly, while his right foot jutted out in the opposite direction, and his arms folded loosely across his diaphragm.
It seemed eminently doubtful that Avgust Belyakov would be actively pursuing Echo in the midst of such wild weather, though it was not an impossibility. Likely the Russian General was putting the night to better use. After all, no matter his conscious dexterities, he could not track him in this, and still he required sustenance. Thus the green-eyed man had every intention of using the time to put as much distance between the foul-tempered blood hound and himself as possible. But even as the threat of Avgust and his Squadron loomed over him, it was not enough to crush his desire to simply enjoy the violent grace in which the world expressed itself. If only for a little while.
His eyed fluttered to a close, breathing deeply the scent of fresh rain – clean and crisp - as he turned his pale face skywards. Wave after wave of cool water hammered down, pelting against his lids, his cheeks and his lips, dribbling down over his jaw and gullet to soak into the already sodden neckline of his shirt. Droplets beaded in his lashes and brows a moment, but were hastily pushed aside and replaced, over and over and over. He exhaled then, long and slow; his clouded breath washed away as quickly as it formed. Gods, how he loved this.
'Taevataat', he murmured, sighing blissfully, ' you have outdone yourself.'
But he could not stay, however much he might have liked to. Storms passed just as quickly as they appeared, and though this particular one was impressive, Echo had lived long enough to know that this meant little to the laws of time. He looked back to the swell of the river, and turned regretfully away.
P.S. Echo is one of my favourite existing characters. If you want to involve him in a story, just say the word!
The city had gone dark; the petty bulb lights adorning the ceilings of the enormous torrents of plane architecture flickering out in awe of the storm as it smothered the earth in it's monstrous black cloak. Few cars rumbled through the streets; even less so did pedestrians scurry over the side walks. The mortals had all hunkered down in their dwellings, no doubt cowering beneath their quilts like terrified rabbits in their burrows. The cunning fox was swift and sly, and it was out to get them.
A lone figure stood defiant of the seething gale along the Riverwalk, the minor contortion of his ambrosial lips conveying a sense of mellow interest as he watched the murky water gurgle and swirl and fold in on itself over and over and over again. He was soaking wet; his hair clung about his face in sodden clumps of bay tresses, and the leather coat that hung from his burly shoulders, teased by the relentless gale of wind, swung heavily about his ankles, weighted down by the water logging it's lining. He seemed unfazed by the onslaught of rain pelting his form, nor did he flinch at the ear-splitting crack of thunder as the black clouds flashed violet.
In fact, Echo Kavanaugh was quite at ease.
It was a rare occurrence for the young man, or so that was as he seemed; the rather sublimely formed fellow appeared perhaps in his early thirties, though - even as he stood quite calmly, relishing in the shelter of the storm - his jade eyes twinkled with an eternal flicker of mischievous youth, and the natural curve of his mouth subtly hinted the potential for a marvellously wicked grin. But for now his face was predominantly slack of any overt expression; his left hip cocked slightly, while his right foot jutted out in the opposite direction, and his arms folded loosely across his diaphragm.
It seemed eminently doubtful that Avgust Belyakov would be actively pursuing Echo in the midst of such wild weather, though it was not an impossibility. Likely the Russian General was putting the night to better use. After all, no matter his conscious dexterities, he could not track him in this, and still he required sustenance. Thus the green-eyed man had every intention of using the time to put as much distance between the foul-tempered blood hound and himself as possible. But even as the threat of Avgust and his Squadron loomed over him, it was not enough to crush his desire to simply enjoy the violent grace in which the world expressed itself. If only for a little while.
His eyed fluttered to a close, breathing deeply the scent of fresh rain – clean and crisp - as he turned his pale face skywards. Wave after wave of cool water hammered down, pelting against his lids, his cheeks and his lips, dribbling down over his jaw and gullet to soak into the already sodden neckline of his shirt. Droplets beaded in his lashes and brows a moment, but were hastily pushed aside and replaced, over and over and over. He exhaled then, long and slow; his clouded breath washed away as quickly as it formed. Gods, how he loved this.
'Taevataat', he murmured, sighing blissfully, ' you have outdone yourself.'
But he could not stay, however much he might have liked to. Storms passed just as quickly as they appeared, and though this particular one was impressive, Echo had lived long enough to know that this meant little to the laws of time. He looked back to the swell of the river, and turned regretfully away.
P.S. Echo is one of my favourite existing characters. If you want to involve him in a story, just say the word!
Anywho! If you're keen, drop me a PM! :)
Cheers
~Kurru
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