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TheDarkScribe
Planetoid
- Joined
- Apr 8, 2020
A wolf remains a wolf, even if it has not eaten your sheep. - The Black Hole
A little about me:
A little about me:
I’m and older writer/RPer with a long history of writing and roleplaying. I’ve been writing since I was a teenager and that’s a long time ago, so I’ve been around the block. I’m a gamer and have a lot of things in the gaming community that take up my time apart from working full time. I've recently taken a long break from RPing and writing but have been pulled back in and feeling the need to start back again.
Storywise, I write traditional third person fiction and can get fairly lengthy in my post depending on the scene and what I might be working with from my partner. I can get pretty long in the words for my opening post, so be warned, I know some don’t like that much. I also understand this is my prerogative, I don’t expect as much length from my partner. I do expect to average at least two to three paragraphs though and usually move to match my partner's post length.
Now, down to the brass tacks, what am I looking for. I’m looking to tell a great story with my partner. To me story is the forefront of why I write and the only thing I’m looking to get out of writing. Now, obviously, being on Blue Moon, I eventually expect that the two characters will get down to adult situations, the sexy parts, but I don’t force it and I don’t expect it to come in the first three posts. The story will dictate when things happen.
Writing partner:
Since I understand life happens, I can deal with one or two post a week or once a day, heck I'm ok with it being weeks in between for good RPs. I have no specific need on length, but I do get a little perturbed if I write a long, detailed post and I get a one line answer. I understand that some post will be short, especially if the action is getting built up. You don’t want to write to much and step on your partner’s character.
I think my only hard and fast rule for a writing partner is they never ‘godmod’ my character, never write how or what he is feeling or thinking or doing. If you want to include something of a reaction immediately in your post, I expect a message asking would your character do this? I would do the same should the situation arise. I understand some writing will require you to move my character or such so I'm usually pretty understanding of physical 'godmodding' though not mental and emotional.
Where to Play:
I'm good playing either in PM or Thread. In addition I've recently set up an email just for RPing to keep track of things so I'm ok playing by email as well. I have in the past played via Google Docs as well, so that is another option. I don't find Discord conductive to RPing but I do use it as a gamer and am happy to chat OCC about the game or other things via Discord.
Things I love in my story:
Story, story and more story. There was a time when I’d write a post just for the jollies of writing. After my long absence from writing, I don’t want to waste the imagination. I want an interesting story, a titillating idea. I want to have fun exploring the story of the characters involved and what is happening. The erotic preferences above pretty much remain the same. If not sure, feel free to ask.
Things I dislike in my stories:
scat
mutilation/etc.
Bugs
Ovi... the thing with eggs.
Created a list thing: F-list - Warning
Since I have no history on this site I'm going to post two writing samples from the first post of two of my favorite RPs.
Police sirens filtered in through the open windows of the studio apartment Gunnbjorn ‘Gunn’ Trygg had rented in the Rogers Park area of Chicago while he tracked his quarry. It was outside the hustle and bustle of the city but it was a straight shot down North Clark Street to downtown. He’d learned it was always better to bunker dow in an apartment then live like a nomad out of a motel room for a long hunt. Between the Salvation Army and Goodwill, he’d outfitted the place with a queen size mattress and box spring that sat on the floor along with a square dining room table to fill the studio apartment, along with some odds and ends for the open kitchen. An old TV sat on a small stand playing the local news, the weather man saying it was going to be a rainy night.
“Good,” he muttered, sitting on one of the two chairs that remained. The other two had broken under his abuse in the few days he’d had them. Rain was good. Trolls liked rain, it would bring them out.
Most people would consider him insane for thinking about trolls, but he had learned long ago there were things in the shadows of this world that people had long since considered myth. The old faiths had left men’s hearts so they only saw silly superstitions because it didn’t fit in with the concepts of the White Christ. Raised in Minnesota in the traditional ways, he’d found it hard to believe in the things his parents talked about when he was surrounded by Christian culture all the time. But then, when he was old enough, he went on his spirit quest and found Bear. Soon, the world opened up to him and he saw into the shadows, saw the things that lurked outside of human perception. Bear taught him how to invoke him, to become one with the wild. It was not about simply letting go, going berserk as they liked to say, but of focusing the raw rage and emotion into a razor’s edge.
Sitting at the table, he slowly disassembled his Sig Sauer P22 Dark Elite and set it on the towel laid out on the table, next to the Mossberg 500 tactical shotgun. They were not traditional weapons but they certainly could slow down most creatures for a bit, especially with the right placement. Next to them lay his axe, gleaming steel covered with special runes along the edge and the blunt hammer side, a well wrapped yew wood handle through the middle. The rest of the table was laid out with various daggers made from different materials like silver and cold iron along with strange chemicals in tightly seals jars. It paid to be prepared when out on a hunt.
Grabbing a black duffel bag, he piled the various extras into the bag along with the clips and shells already in the bag. The Sig went into a paddle holster he slipped into the waistband of his jeans so it was at his side. He slid two spare clips into a case on his belt behind the gun. The short barreled shotgun hung on a special shoulder ring under his left arm. Pulling up his faded blue jeans, he slid two daggers into the brown harness boots before covering them back up. Rising, he threw a black long coat over his frame covering all of his weapons. A dark red button up shirt peeked out still from beneath, the collar opened far enough to show his greatest weapon, the wrought iron Thor’s Hammer that symbolized his faith and the silver Valknot that symbolized his dedication to Odin.
A light drizzle had started by the time Gunn rumbled into downtown on his black Indian Chief Vintage, a black helmet covering his face. His headlight shone into the darkness of the moonless night as he pulled off North Michigan Avenue heading down to the Navy Pier. Trolls liked water and trees so it was probably the best place to start. If they weren’t there, he’d follow North Columbus Drive down through the Museum district.
He’d only gotten a few feet down the street when he heard the scream echoing over the falling rain, the rancid scent soon filling his nostrils. More than that, he could feel them in his gut like strange butterflies pushing against his insides. It was impossible to figure out where the scream had come from, there were so many buildings to bounce off of around here. Turning around, he ended up pulling his motorcycle off into a parking garage off West Wacker Drive as it was going to take some tracking to find the troll. Taking his helmet off, he ran his hair through his long, blonde locks as he set the helmet on the seat.
Breathing in the air, he slowly started down the road following the elevated rail tracks down, sheets of rain falling on either side of the raised platform. At the corner of the next block, he saw the name on the building across the street and was given pause. A strange feeling moved through his body, the name had to be more than a coincidence. Niflhel was spelled out in big red letters on the club. Sliding the duffel back from his back, he felt the comfortable weight of his ax against his side as he moved to an alley that ran down the side. The smell of the trolls were heavy in the air as he searched for a back entrance, rain pattering on his shoulders.
“Good,” he muttered, sitting on one of the two chairs that remained. The other two had broken under his abuse in the few days he’d had them. Rain was good. Trolls liked rain, it would bring them out.
Most people would consider him insane for thinking about trolls, but he had learned long ago there were things in the shadows of this world that people had long since considered myth. The old faiths had left men’s hearts so they only saw silly superstitions because it didn’t fit in with the concepts of the White Christ. Raised in Minnesota in the traditional ways, he’d found it hard to believe in the things his parents talked about when he was surrounded by Christian culture all the time. But then, when he was old enough, he went on his spirit quest and found Bear. Soon, the world opened up to him and he saw into the shadows, saw the things that lurked outside of human perception. Bear taught him how to invoke him, to become one with the wild. It was not about simply letting go, going berserk as they liked to say, but of focusing the raw rage and emotion into a razor’s edge.
Sitting at the table, he slowly disassembled his Sig Sauer P22 Dark Elite and set it on the towel laid out on the table, next to the Mossberg 500 tactical shotgun. They were not traditional weapons but they certainly could slow down most creatures for a bit, especially with the right placement. Next to them lay his axe, gleaming steel covered with special runes along the edge and the blunt hammer side, a well wrapped yew wood handle through the middle. The rest of the table was laid out with various daggers made from different materials like silver and cold iron along with strange chemicals in tightly seals jars. It paid to be prepared when out on a hunt.
Grabbing a black duffel bag, he piled the various extras into the bag along with the clips and shells already in the bag. The Sig went into a paddle holster he slipped into the waistband of his jeans so it was at his side. He slid two spare clips into a case on his belt behind the gun. The short barreled shotgun hung on a special shoulder ring under his left arm. Pulling up his faded blue jeans, he slid two daggers into the brown harness boots before covering them back up. Rising, he threw a black long coat over his frame covering all of his weapons. A dark red button up shirt peeked out still from beneath, the collar opened far enough to show his greatest weapon, the wrought iron Thor’s Hammer that symbolized his faith and the silver Valknot that symbolized his dedication to Odin.
A light drizzle had started by the time Gunn rumbled into downtown on his black Indian Chief Vintage, a black helmet covering his face. His headlight shone into the darkness of the moonless night as he pulled off North Michigan Avenue heading down to the Navy Pier. Trolls liked water and trees so it was probably the best place to start. If they weren’t there, he’d follow North Columbus Drive down through the Museum district.
He’d only gotten a few feet down the street when he heard the scream echoing over the falling rain, the rancid scent soon filling his nostrils. More than that, he could feel them in his gut like strange butterflies pushing against his insides. It was impossible to figure out where the scream had come from, there were so many buildings to bounce off of around here. Turning around, he ended up pulling his motorcycle off into a parking garage off West Wacker Drive as it was going to take some tracking to find the troll. Taking his helmet off, he ran his hair through his long, blonde locks as he set the helmet on the seat.
Breathing in the air, he slowly started down the road following the elevated rail tracks down, sheets of rain falling on either side of the raised platform. At the corner of the next block, he saw the name on the building across the street and was given pause. A strange feeling moved through his body, the name had to be more than a coincidence. Niflhel was spelled out in big red letters on the club. Sliding the duffel back from his back, he felt the comfortable weight of his ax against his side as he moved to an alley that ran down the side. The smell of the trolls were heavy in the air as he searched for a back entrance, rain pattering on his shoulders.
“I do not understand,” Ciaran bellowed, exasperation on his face. “What is the point of this ancient custom. It is bullshit.” A crooked smile came over his lips as he watched his mother and father look at him with shock, not use to the vulgarity of mortality in their presence. He had traveled among them a lot since his child hood, since he’d seen her so long ago, and gotten a taste for mortal life.
“That is enough,” his father cried out, his dark eyes glittering in the quiet of the room. “You question our very existence. It is the way, and that is all there is too it.”
“Ciaran,” his mother interjected, giving his father a chastising look. “You have enjoyed your time among the mortals, have you not. If the balance is not maintained, we cannot exist with the mortal word. All would be lost between our two realms. The Black King and the Red Queen must come together and be joined for this to remain.”
He glared for a moment as his mother but saw she spoke the truth, feeling the fight leave him in that moment. Perhaps he could not change their mind now, but perhaps when he showed them how useless it was for this union to be forced they would falter. He was not ready to give up his freedom for any crown or queen.
“You will go to her with your escorts and the pact shall be sealed. Make yourself presentable for the mortal world.”
Ciaran looked down at the silken attire he wore and reached out his will, warping the fabric over his body. It twisted and slowly changed until he was left wearing a pair of black jeans and white button up shirt, a black suit jacket covering him. His broad chest and shoulders filling out the jacket and making it look more rugged then civilized. His feet were stuffed into a pair of black harness boots. Brushing his hands over the stubble on his chin, he pushed his hand back through his shoulder length hair, feeling a bit more human with the look.
“I suppose it will have to do,” his mother said, looking at him with some distance. “He gets his style from your side I believe.” She looked back at her husband who remained quiet, not ready to spar today.
A man walked up behind him, his body lithe with a feminine face. Long, blonde hair fell down around his shoulders as he looked towards Ciaran. He was dressed in a suit that looked like it had come off the rack at some designer store at the mall, everything in impeccable order. He motioned for him to lead the way, energy rippling along one wall to indicate a opening in the planes. The man’s eyes held little emotion unlike the human’s who’s company he’d come to enjoy.
He paused at the entrance and looked back at the guy, a crooked grin on his lips. “Do you mind if we at least stop at Starbucks first? I could use an iced chai.”
“That is enough,” his father cried out, his dark eyes glittering in the quiet of the room. “You question our very existence. It is the way, and that is all there is too it.”
“Ciaran,” his mother interjected, giving his father a chastising look. “You have enjoyed your time among the mortals, have you not. If the balance is not maintained, we cannot exist with the mortal word. All would be lost between our two realms. The Black King and the Red Queen must come together and be joined for this to remain.”
He glared for a moment as his mother but saw she spoke the truth, feeling the fight leave him in that moment. Perhaps he could not change their mind now, but perhaps when he showed them how useless it was for this union to be forced they would falter. He was not ready to give up his freedom for any crown or queen.
“You will go to her with your escorts and the pact shall be sealed. Make yourself presentable for the mortal world.”
Ciaran looked down at the silken attire he wore and reached out his will, warping the fabric over his body. It twisted and slowly changed until he was left wearing a pair of black jeans and white button up shirt, a black suit jacket covering him. His broad chest and shoulders filling out the jacket and making it look more rugged then civilized. His feet were stuffed into a pair of black harness boots. Brushing his hands over the stubble on his chin, he pushed his hand back through his shoulder length hair, feeling a bit more human with the look.
“I suppose it will have to do,” his mother said, looking at him with some distance. “He gets his style from your side I believe.” She looked back at her husband who remained quiet, not ready to spar today.
A man walked up behind him, his body lithe with a feminine face. Long, blonde hair fell down around his shoulders as he looked towards Ciaran. He was dressed in a suit that looked like it had come off the rack at some designer store at the mall, everything in impeccable order. He motioned for him to lead the way, energy rippling along one wall to indicate a opening in the planes. The man’s eyes held little emotion unlike the human’s who’s company he’d come to enjoy.
He paused at the entrance and looked back at the guy, a crooked grin on his lips. “Do you mind if we at least stop at Starbucks first? I could use an iced chai.”
Settings and Interest for stories:
Mixing things up
Those who have worked with me know I like to take a little bit of this and mix it with a little of that. I rarely write completely historical settings, preferring to throw in fantastical or mythical elements. I like to think I have a good knowledge of various histories but when I write in them I want more than what I can get out of a good book.
Japan and Japanese myth and history
Since I was a little kid running around in a ninja outfit at night, I have been fascinated by Japanese culture, history and myth. I have a decent knowledge of it and am always eager to learn more. Most of my fascination revolve around the samurai and ninja though it also encompasses yakuza and myths. I am heavily influenced by both history and Japanese cinema, though not a huge fan of anime.
Native American myth and culture
I am part Seminole and have been fascinated by the various tribal cultures. I am basically a mutt so finding out I had this one culture to cling to I became fascinated them all along with Native American religious beliefs, having spent some time investigating shamanism. I am well versed in most of the tribes, from the Inuit up north down to the Incas down south. If I don't know something I'm pretty good at dinding it out as I have a number of resources I've used over the time. RPs involving Native American culture and characters hold a special place for me as it was the majority of stuff I first wrote when I started to RP.
Other Cultures.
I am fascinated by most other cultures as well, both modern and historic. I have a keen interest in learning more about them and investigating them. Chinese, Indian, Middle Eastern and more. Admittedly I prefer having a bit of mythical in those ideas but will consider ones without the fantastical. I am an intellectual creature and love adding more information so tackling new cultures and ideas stokes my creativity.
Fantasy
I love fantasy, both classical and urban. I don't always think in the classical fantasy ways when coming up with my ideas but I always have a touch of them in most of them. It is my bread and butter. It is my preferred genre when reading. I also love worldbuilding which fantasy gives you complete freedom in that respect.
Steampunk/Dieselpunk/all the other punks
I have grown to be fascinated by Steampunk and often add a touch of it to my RPs. Both the aesthetic and the mutability appeal to my creative side. I could probably go on but lets just leave it at that I love Steampunk
Passion
I think if you are going to have sexual content in an RP it should have passion, in one form or another. I love to see passion overwhelm a story where it's not just about the kinks but it's just about experiencing the person. The want to experience a person in every way, with no boundaries, unable to keep your hands, feet or body off a person. If you are going to have those characters in a relationship, why not have it full of passion where it makes the words burn and the loins ache.
More to come as I clarify them in my head
Vague Ideas and Cravings
Stray Cat Strut
So, this one is based on a story I tried to start way back with a great writer who I had many stories going with but had a very hard time with this one. It was about a alchemist who’s life is ruined by another, flames consuming him and his life. It takes the woman he loved and burned him. He is left broken. Unable to deal with things, he retires away to a small house in the country, deep in forest. He wears a mask and covers keeps his burnt left side hidden away. One day, a small cat finds his way onto his land, hurt and starving. He helps and heals the poor thing, tucking it away to rest. He goes to bed feeling good at having done something nice for once, but to his surprise wakes up with a catgirl house guest in his bed. Perhaps she was running from something or someone, something that will catch up to them.
Of note, the male character is pretty dark and in despair which can be difficult for some to deal with, at least in the past it has. He’s faced some tragedy and it’s broken him, in addition to the scars he wears on the outside. So I understand this might be difficult and not for anyone.
The Game
Inspired by an old idea, a veteran of wrestling is forced out of the sport by injury and addiction after starting to get some heat. He is picked p by the newly started GLOW wrestling league to help out and lend itself a known name. The former wrestling is hooked up with a woman who’d character has a dark back story but he doesn’t know that ancient spells are being used by the owner to bring in more eyes. Slowly, the woman wrestler is becoming her character, whatever that is can be discussed, and the veteran is along for the ride and trying to help her. This would be some 80’s goodness with what I imagine would be an interesting power dynamic as I imagine the female wrestler isn’t a push over as she becomes her character.
Permanent House Guest
My character has been having a bad week and decided to take it out at the bar, drinking and playing pool until he is broke and hammered. He heads out despite being too drunk to drive not willing to admit he can't do it but when he hits a sharp turn, he goes over the steep embankment and crashes. He's found but a woman who brings him back to her house to attend too, he's got a concussion and some bruising but nothing too bad. She keeps him well in those first day or two but then he is good and is ready to get out, get back to his responsibility. But she's not having any of that. Sort of a take on Misery without the shattering of ankles. Perhaps it's forceful at first but maybe he learns her reasons. There are many ways it cold go.
Appalachian story. (Man of Constant Sorrow)
A vague idea where your character is a city girl or at least a woman of the suburbs. She some how ends up lost in the Appalachian Mountains trying to get away from some people wanting to hurt her. Perhaps it was a plane crash or perhaps it was just a wild drive that went off road and they lost track. But now she is lost and suddenly she finds help in a backwoods man living far off the grid. There are a number of ways this can go, from straight romance to a serious D/s story line, perhaps even some D-con. I’m fairly open for this one.
Passion unbound
Ok, this is a super vague idea/craving that I find hard to pin down into a story idea. When I was young I watched a VHS tape, yep that long ago, that was sort of an adult education production and it stuck with me. It was basically about making love with your whole body and I always think about how much you must be into someone to say rub yourself over various body parts. Not exactly a story idea but something I’m craving to fit into a story of just unbridled passion and desire.
Dragon Age rp
I'm writing one Dragon Age rp with a friend and it's gotten into the lore deep again and I'd love to work on brainstorming another RP in the setting. Perhaps a Human noble and City elf set in the happenings of the first game. Or I always found the flirtation with the dwarf scout in DA Inquisition very amusing, and frustrating that it couldn't become a relationship option, so maybe a human and dwarf. Nothing definitive yet so very open to brainstorming ideas.
A more kink/smut specific thread
Favored Genres:
Fantasy
Steampunk
Sci-fi
Urban Fantasy/Modern
Known settings I would love to tell a good story in:
Video Game/TV/Movies
Mass Effect Universe
Star Wars – KOTOR era especially
Skyrim – Elder Scrolls setting in general
Dragon Age setting
GI Joe
Mask
Inhumanoids
Saints Row
Destiny
Titanfall/Apex Legends
Favored RPG settings
Midnight
Legend of the Five Rings
Victoriana
Dragon Age
Shadownrun
Kindred of the East
Unhallowed Metropolis
Earthdawn
Cthulutech
Kult
Immortal
Possible Pairings
Human/Halfling
Neighbors
Roommates
Patient x doctor or nurse
Best friends
Co-workers
Owner x neko
Owner x android
Doctor x patient
MILF x Teachet or Principle or tutor
Curvey women x friends boyfriend or brother
Father x daughter
Mother x son
Brother x sister
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