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My posts tend to be quite long. Usually, 1000-3000 words, though I'm working on getting more bite-sized posts out more frequently. A 2k words post is not something I can sit down and do in 45min, so don't expect them to come frequently. Often just once a week, or even longer, sadly. You don't have to match a 3k word post, although I still prefer posts in the 1k+ range. I would love a co-writer who can help me become a more consistent and prolific writer, and encourage me to get posts of all sizes pumped out more frequently
I God-Mod! A lot of people are against someone taking control of their character, so I just want to come out and say early that I God-Mod. I consider myself someone looking for co-writers for a story and not really a roleplayer. I am not my character and I'm not overly attached to specific characters. I often tend to write multiple characters. Although I can refrain from writing internal dialogue and thoughts for your character. But I will write some actions and a few lines of dialogue. The other co-writer, you, is in return also welcome to write what characters I have put into the story are doing.
Also very important. Push the plot, push the story. Both writers must add. In my experience, roleplays often end up with one of the writers writing mirror posts from a different angle.
Lastly. With my limited quantity of posts, I don't have time to please everybody and can be very picky when choosing co-writers. I will often ask to see a writing sample of some of your work. Don't take it too personally if I decline to write with you. I am ghosting-friendly, though please tell me if you want to drop the story. Likewise, I have to admit that I myself have dropped stories prematurely in the past. It's a bad habit that I want to stop, but if it happens I mean no offense.
All stories, Names, and everything are not set in stone. I'm fine with brainstorming and fleshing out details. And if you've read through them and have something entirely different that you want to pitch to me, feel free to do so. As for face claims and inspirational pictures, I don't mind them. I use both drawn, IRL, and AI. Always OOC and never as a link in the text.
Don't have a story? That's okay. I'm also fine with just chatting and brainstorming with other aspiring writers about writing in general. Giving and receiving feedback is something I enjoy in itself. Though for those who want quick responses, I am in GMT+1 and go to bed early.
Alright. Some ideas. These are not set in stone. Hit me up with other stories about The Extremities of Grimm Monster-Girl Tales and Sexual Adventures. Got that idea in the back of your mind where your mother has suddenly become a half tyrannosaurus that only cares for incestuous mating? Then I'm all ears.
Merfolk. Ever seen a video of a dolphin humping a human? Well, don't get in the water with them. The best-case scenario is the utter impalement of a fishstick. Other bad scenarios might even end in oviposition, warm-blooded mammals are a good place to hide your eggs.
Undead in various stages of decay. Bonus points if them being dead is part of the kink. An example could be that a character has the ultimate fantasy of having his way with a corpse, and pays an undead prostitute to be completely still during sex.
Just regular incest. How boring. Rig elections, become a communist overlord. Marry your daughter'(s). Knock her up. Repeat with the next generation. If petite is too small for your appetite, they also come as top-heavy.
Centaurs. It's only half bestiality, right? Bonus if they are hiding massive teats under their horsecloth. Don't judge.
My posts tend to be quite long. Usually, 1000-3000 words, though I'm working on getting more bite-sized posts out more frequently. A 2k words post is not something I can sit down and do in 45min, so don't expect them to come frequently. Often just once a week, or even longer, sadly. You don't have to match a 3k word post, although I still prefer posts in the 1k+ range. I would love a co-writer who can help me become a more consistent and prolific writer, and encourage me to get posts of all sizes pumped out more frequently
I God-Mod! A lot of people are against someone taking control of their character, so I just want to come out and say early that I God-Mod. I consider myself someone looking for co-writers for a story and not really a roleplayer. I am not my character and I'm not overly attached to specific characters. I often tend to write multiple characters. Although I can refrain from writing internal dialogue and thoughts for your character. But I will write some actions and a few lines of dialogue. The other co-writer, you, is in return also welcome to write what characters I have put into the story are doing.
Also very important. Push the plot, push the story. Both writers must add. In my experience, roleplays often end up with one of the writers writing mirror posts from a different angle.
Lastly. With my limited quantity of posts, I don't have time to please everybody and can be very picky when choosing co-writers. I will often ask to see a writing sample of some of your work. Don't take it too personally if I decline to write with you. I am ghosting-friendly, though please tell me if you want to drop the story. Likewise, I have to admit that I myself have dropped stories prematurely in the past. It's a bad habit that I want to stop, but if it happens I mean no offense.
All stories, Names, and everything are not set in stone. I'm fine with brainstorming and fleshing out details. And if you've read through them and have something entirely different that you want to pitch to me, feel free to do so. As for face claims and inspirational pictures, I don't mind them. I use both drawn, IRL, and AI. Always OOC and never as a link in the text.
Don't have a story? That's okay. I'm also fine with just chatting and brainstorming with other aspiring writers about writing in general. Giving and receiving feedback is something I enjoy in itself. Though for those who want quick responses, I am in GMT+1 and go to bed early.
Alright. Some ideas. These are not set in stone. Hit me up with other stories about The Extremities of Grimm Monster-Girl Tales and Sexual Adventures. Got that idea in the back of your mind where your mother has suddenly become a half tyrannosaurus that only cares for incestuous mating? Then I'm all ears.
Merfolk. Ever seen a video of a dolphin humping a human? Well, don't get in the water with them. The best-case scenario is the utter impalement of a fishstick. Other bad scenarios might even end in oviposition, warm-blooded mammals are a good place to hide your eggs.
"In a world of endless waters, on a ship so bold,
Sailed a brave little captain, with a heart of gold..."
All sailors knew the song though few ever sang it, for it was a lullaby that made the bravest of them homesick.
"With his crew by his side, through storms and rain,
They charted the oceans, with no fear or dis..." Roland mumbled drowsely. Then woke up with a jolt. No! Of all the things he had been through. Now this monster too! He staggered to his feet. More exhausted than he had ever been after spending days trying to manage a vessel too large to be handled by a single man. Though today he had given up, and let the ship drift. And so, he too had been drifting. Baking in the sun right there on the deck.
"Oh, the brave little captain, so bold and true..."
His muscles tensed up and his hair stood up. Yet the sound was so, oh so soothing. He peered over the port side. Not there.
"Guiding his ship through waters, both old and new..."
He closed his eyes and listened. Why not just give up? All the others were dead anyway. He went to the bow and looked over. Not there either.
"With the wind in his sails, and the stars above..."
Neither was it on the starboard side. Yet there was land in sight. Sandy beaches and a great mass of palm trees. Though it was clearly just an island, it was too big to be explored in a single day. An oasis. Hope.
"He'll sail on forever, with courage and love..."
There it was. Trailing the ship at the stern. Shading his eyes he saw the dark silhouette beneath the surface of the water. Twelve, if not fifteen-foot lang. A humanoid torso with a fishtail. Entirely blue and green hair like seaweed. It surfaced its head, gazing into his soul and staring directly at his deepest desires. It grinned. He shut his eyes and looked away. Such a stupid mistake to make eye contact with a siren, Why did he even go looking for the thing anyway?
"Alone?" It asked with a feminine voice all too familiar. Its body began to change colors like an octopus camouflaging itself with its surroundings in an instant. The seaweed hair turned chestnut brown, it flowing down and rippling over the blue torso that was now a pale skin color. The tail darkened except for two long stripes that looked like human legs. Creating an illusion like the eyes on the wings of a butterfly. The legs even moved in a slow animation.
"Is the hull a crypt or did you throw them overboard?" She sounded so caring, full of sincere concern. But he knew that was the biggest illusion. He knew what sirens did to sailors. He picked up the nearest object, a large wooden bucket, and hurled it directly at her. Went back to starboard side. Thinking. He could drop the anchor. The ship would be stuck here, but it would prevent it from drifting away from the island. He could wait for the monster to leave him. Lower the rowboat and get to the island. Yes, that was a plan.
"If you're afraid, you know mommy can comfort you." It gulped in water, gulp gulp gulp. Each swallows ballooning her naked breasts further. He looked down, seeing the illusion of his mother's gargantuan bosom swaying as softly as the waves. Fleeing home to spend a life at sea was no longer enough to escape his Oedipus complex.
"Jump..."
Sailed a brave little captain, with a heart of gold..."
All sailors knew the song though few ever sang it, for it was a lullaby that made the bravest of them homesick.
"With his crew by his side, through storms and rain,
They charted the oceans, with no fear or dis..." Roland mumbled drowsely. Then woke up with a jolt. No! Of all the things he had been through. Now this monster too! He staggered to his feet. More exhausted than he had ever been after spending days trying to manage a vessel too large to be handled by a single man. Though today he had given up, and let the ship drift. And so, he too had been drifting. Baking in the sun right there on the deck.
"Oh, the brave little captain, so bold and true..."
His muscles tensed up and his hair stood up. Yet the sound was so, oh so soothing. He peered over the port side. Not there.
"Guiding his ship through waters, both old and new..."
He closed his eyes and listened. Why not just give up? All the others were dead anyway. He went to the bow and looked over. Not there either.
"With the wind in his sails, and the stars above..."
Neither was it on the starboard side. Yet there was land in sight. Sandy beaches and a great mass of palm trees. Though it was clearly just an island, it was too big to be explored in a single day. An oasis. Hope.
"He'll sail on forever, with courage and love..."
There it was. Trailing the ship at the stern. Shading his eyes he saw the dark silhouette beneath the surface of the water. Twelve, if not fifteen-foot lang. A humanoid torso with a fishtail. Entirely blue and green hair like seaweed. It surfaced its head, gazing into his soul and staring directly at his deepest desires. It grinned. He shut his eyes and looked away. Such a stupid mistake to make eye contact with a siren, Why did he even go looking for the thing anyway?
"Alone?" It asked with a feminine voice all too familiar. Its body began to change colors like an octopus camouflaging itself with its surroundings in an instant. The seaweed hair turned chestnut brown, it flowing down and rippling over the blue torso that was now a pale skin color. The tail darkened except for two long stripes that looked like human legs. Creating an illusion like the eyes on the wings of a butterfly. The legs even moved in a slow animation.
"Is the hull a crypt or did you throw them overboard?" She sounded so caring, full of sincere concern. But he knew that was the biggest illusion. He knew what sirens did to sailors. He picked up the nearest object, a large wooden bucket, and hurled it directly at her. Went back to starboard side. Thinking. He could drop the anchor. The ship would be stuck here, but it would prevent it from drifting away from the island. He could wait for the monster to leave him. Lower the rowboat and get to the island. Yes, that was a plan.
"If you're afraid, you know mommy can comfort you." It gulped in water, gulp gulp gulp. Each swallows ballooning her naked breasts further. He looked down, seeing the illusion of his mother's gargantuan bosom swaying as softly as the waves. Fleeing home to spend a life at sea was no longer enough to escape his Oedipus complex.
"Jump..."
Undead in various stages of decay. Bonus points if them being dead is part of the kink. An example could be that a character has the ultimate fantasy of having his way with a corpse, and pays an undead prostitute to be completely still during sex.
Standing in the corner of the banquet hall, Prince Viktor pretended to go over the seating arrangements for the hundred time. Really, he just wanted to be a fly on the wall, and this was his best excuse to be so. He knew nothing better than to spy on the preserved servants from a distance. Watching them bustling about and preparing the tables for tonight's party. As a child, he had been afraid of them. And why wouldn't he? His nanny had always told him their white uniforms, covering every inch of their skin, were to hide skeletal bodies. Not a far-fetched fairy tale, given how unnaturally tight their corsets were. Though now in his teens, he found the silhouette of an unnatural hourglass figure quite alluring.
Just regular incest. How boring. Rig elections, become a communist overlord. Marry your daughter'(s). Knock her up. Repeat with the next generation. If petite is too small for your appetite, they also come as top-heavy.
It's a few minutes past midday. As usual, you hear the first beat of a drum in the distance. You put down the endless list of the city's grocery distribution. Light a cigar, step out of your office in the government building, out onto the balcony. The mayor is already out there with a small crowd of other men from the head offices. After his wife's mysterious disappearance, he's taken a special interest in the marching girl band. Men are pouring out of the workshops. A short respite in the middle of their twelve-hour shift. For the laboring men, it is an enormous morale boost, to see these gorgeous beauties paraded in front of them.
For this is the latest patch of ready wives to be handed out by the state to those who work the hardest. From an early age, they've been cultivated to be the best of wives, like how they march in perfect unison, they will run a household with military discipline. But what the men are interested in, is how this brainwashed army of girl scouts is not only willing, but eager, to lose their virginity to their new husbands and do their duty to the state by producing the next generation. Though still in their teens, nearly all of them will be pregnant within a year. "What's taking so long with the new catalog?" the mayor grunts through his cigar. He removes it from his lips and points at the girl at the front. Of course, the school has put this girl at the front of the parade. Though just a teen she has a bust that's stretching the buttons on her white shirt. "Can't wait to read the measurements on that one." He laughs, and so does everyone else. No one dares not to laugh at the mayor's jokes. He walks back into the building, most of his entourage follows.
Though you linger. Near the pack of the parade marches your daughter. Petite and completely flat, they keep her in the pack. Your eyes stalk her, watching her thick red lips wrapped around the tip of a flute. The knee-long skirt fluttered around her little legs. "She's your daughter isn't she?" A voice from behind you asks. It's Fyodor who handles the catalog and matchmaking. You don't reply and scurry to get back inside. "I want steak for two years..." You look over your shoulder. Fyodor is serious, he can make it happen, you can see it in his stern eyes. That's how business was made in the state. Without money in circulation, everything was an exchange of favors. You get me on that list and I'll move you up on that list. No one ever batted an eye at the obvious corruption, who would dare criticize the state.
For this is the latest patch of ready wives to be handed out by the state to those who work the hardest. From an early age, they've been cultivated to be the best of wives, like how they march in perfect unison, they will run a household with military discipline. But what the men are interested in, is how this brainwashed army of girl scouts is not only willing, but eager, to lose their virginity to their new husbands and do their duty to the state by producing the next generation. Though still in their teens, nearly all of them will be pregnant within a year. "What's taking so long with the new catalog?" the mayor grunts through his cigar. He removes it from his lips and points at the girl at the front. Of course, the school has put this girl at the front of the parade. Though just a teen she has a bust that's stretching the buttons on her white shirt. "Can't wait to read the measurements on that one." He laughs, and so does everyone else. No one dares not to laugh at the mayor's jokes. He walks back into the building, most of his entourage follows.
Though you linger. Near the pack of the parade marches your daughter. Petite and completely flat, they keep her in the pack. Your eyes stalk her, watching her thick red lips wrapped around the tip of a flute. The knee-long skirt fluttered around her little legs. "She's your daughter isn't she?" A voice from behind you asks. It's Fyodor who handles the catalog and matchmaking. You don't reply and scurry to get back inside. "I want steak for two years..." You look over your shoulder. Fyodor is serious, he can make it happen, you can see it in his stern eyes. That's how business was made in the state. Without money in circulation, everything was an exchange of favors. You get me on that list and I'll move you up on that list. No one ever batted an eye at the obvious corruption, who would dare criticize the state.
Centaurs. It's only half bestiality, right? Bonus if they are hiding massive teats under their horsecloth. Don't judge.
Nessurina the eternal, was an oracle and one of the few questgivers left in the world. She strung her lute and listened attentively to the next hero's request. He wanted a magic sword, one to keep in his family and pass on as a heirloom. A sword, how original. All Ben ever wanted with his life was to be in Nessurina's presence. Maybe he could become one of those lucky ones who hand her fresh fruit or fan her with palm leaves. Watching her spiral horns glitter with gold and gems in the sunlight. Maybe one day he would even be the lucky one, braiding her hair which was as golden as her horns. Be so close he could see the texture of the skin on her human torso that was white as marble. If she would only look at him so he could forget time and be lost in her eyes, immense, dark, sparkling like the night sky. Resting half on the side, Ben's eyes traveled over her equine lower half. A horsecloth was draped over it, as an enormous summer dress embroidered with flowery patterns. What a shame to hide such a body and leave only her diamond hooves sticking out. If he could ever complete a quest, he would wish to make love to such a body. It was, after all, only half bestiality, right?