我慢できますか

guidelines. muses. pinterest. writing blog.

hey hi! i’m cee (25+) and i’m looking for a few more active discord rp partners because apparently writing multiple emotionally unstable characters at once just isn’t enough.

i mostly write in a text-based style (not one-liners!) — quick replies for casual scenes, longer when the mood hits — and i can para when it makes sense. not into overly polished or performative stuff, just something that feels natural and keeps the story moving. think of it as writing a character spiral in real time. all in all, i’m okay with our characters just chatting sometimes (i come from band rpg, if that helps!)

i primarily write male muses, but i’ve been wanting to write more female characters too (they deserve love as well). my favorite characters are a little broken, a little dramatic, and trying so hard to seem fine. i’m here for slow burns, arguments at 2am, the long drive home in silence, all of it.

also: i have a tendency to write long, unsolicited one-shot novellas about characters i’m invested in. you might wake up to a 6,000 word inner monologue about a fight scene we wrote three days ago. it’s a gift and a curse. mostly a gift (not it isn't lmao)

you must be 18+, active, and okay with ooc chatter. i like getting to know the people i’m writing with — it makes the plotting more fun and the chaos more chaotic.

themes / genres i vibe with:

modern realism • slice of life with edge • toxic relationships that shouldn’t work (but kinda do) • invisible string theory • angst, trauma bonding, and emotional repression • addiction / recovery • found family that barely holds it together • small towns with big problems • dark academia but make it sad • light crime, heavy consequences • grief / loss / abandonment issues • the occasional soft moment in a grocery store parking lot

they grew up in a small southern town that chewed people up and left scars no one talked about, childhood best friends who shared scraped knees, secret hideaways, and the kind of love that felt like both a lifeline and a rebellion.

muse a was always scribbling songs no one would hear, turning pain into melodies, while muse b held their hand through nights that smelled of wildfire and old pine, keeping both of them alive in ways the town never could. somewhere between stolen glances and whispered confessions, friendship became something more, soft and dangerous, until muse a left to chase a music career, promising they wouldn’t forget, leaving muse b to survive a place that had always tried to break them.

years later, muse a is famous, raw and haunted, and muse b has built a life far from stages and spotlights, but neither has forgotten the other. when they cross paths again, the old ache rushes back, thick with resentment, longing, and everything they never said. it starts with tension, awkward silences, and bruised memories, then slowly turns into something intimate: late-night conversations in parked cars, fingers brushing over shared history, songs that feel too personal, comfort that both heals and hurts.

their connection lingers — quiet, fragile, and electric — but muse a’s fame, touring, and public life pull him away, while muse b fears being left behind again. fans notice. rumors swirl. the past they survived together threatens to shatter what they could have now, leaving them to wonder if some loves are meant to be fought for, or only remembered in the dark.

okay but i need a noah sebastian x sabrina carpenter oc pairing. they meet when both are cast in a low-budget indie film directed by a washed-up filmmaker trying to stage a comeback. it’s a messy production and neither of them really want to be there—he’s fresh off a breakdown disguised as a hiatus, and she’s a former adult filmstar turned media icon desperate to be taken seriously. neither are actors, but the roles hit a little too close to home: ex-lovers reuniting under tragic circumstances. it starts with artistic tension, turns into resentment, then slowly into something intimate—rehearsals that bleed past midnight, lines that feel personal, and comfort that neither of them expected. when the movie wraps, they don’t. their connection lingers—secret, undefined, fueled by mutual understanding and insomnia. it’s quiet car rides, private shows, and songs that sound like confessions. but fame comes with pressure, and their careers begin to pull them in opposite directions. fans speculate. the internet tears them apart. old wounds reopen.

you’ve got two people stuck in the same shitty tour van, sleeping two feet apart on motel floorboards and smoking each other’s last cigarettes. maybe they’ve been best friends since the garage band days, or maybe they barely liked each other when the tour started—but something snapped somewhere between setlist rewrites and late-night mixing sessions. now it’s looks that linger too long, fingers brushing in cramped greenrooms, breath catching when one of them moans a little too real during vocal warmups. one of them’s a quiet mess—nervous hands, flushed cheeks, never done this before but desperate to learn. the other? cocky, seasoned, the type to talk you through it and make you beg for more. there’s thigh riding in the drum booth, mutual touches in the back of the van while the rest of the band sleeps, whispered promises that mean nothing—or everything. it’s sloppy. it’s addictive. it’s the kind of thing that ruins a friendship and makes a record better.

bring me your awkward virgin musicians, your emotionally unavailable bassists, your chaotic lead singers with boundary issues.