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Verse
Supernova
- Joined
- May 8, 2011
I do not care where your pictures come from, I don't have to have them anyway. But if your writing is helped by AI in other ways than grammar check and spelling (I use spelling check myself) I would like to be told. Thank you very much.
Just saw the ballet Swan Lake and it inspired me, both in story telling and story itself.
The story will be this.
A society regularly sacrifices one of its daughters to contain a monster in their mine. The mine has ore that as an alloy with iron is an efficient conductor, and pure is highly valued as a precious metal. It is the basis for the society's entire economy.
The shaman bloodline in the society produce sons that mediate the sacrifice, but also fight the monster when it's weaker for the rest of the time. The ritual for the sacrifice is technically to determine whether the shaman bloodline accepts the daughter as good enough to kill/put the monster to sleep, or just appease and weaken it. But very few generations have had a daughter that could do much more than appease. The ritual is sexual in nature, between the daughter and the shaman son.
This generation, the shaman and the sacrifice are childhood friends.
The society is very misogynistic, and the daughter will have resigned herself to appeasing the monster. But, of course, our story will be about the possibility the shaman son sees that she may do more. The daughter will be torn between wanting to simply play her part, and a Stockholm syndrome, and contribute to the safety of the society, and also the son's suspicion she could be fated for more.
The story will be violent and debauched. I am open to building this world.
Heya!
To keep things simple, I will present three unusual kinks I would like to base an rp around.
Cock talking. As it sounds. For some reason or other, YC talks to MC's dick. The reason can vary, maybe YC is forced, maybe circumstances has rendered her so addled she does. Is it a kind of cock worship? Is it a cult? There more MC's cock is treated as a different entity than MC himself, the better.
Smell. Not entirely removed from pheromone play. YC has some kind of relationship to MC's cock's smell. Maybe it messes with her head. Maybe it attracts her to it. Maybe once she's had a whiff it chemically affects her brain. Maybe she's addicted to it. I am open to any ideas on this, of course.
Shallow pussies where mc can't fit entirely, both length and girth-wise. Could be connected to sexual pain and abuse but doesn't have to be. What if she's a masochistic size queen? But like she will feel pain/paingasms. Does mc use it as a weapon or motivation? Is it a point of sore pride for yc? A bet she loses? Would love a story that centers around or has this link included.
Anal fixation. Story wise. Does YC have a boyfriend who wants anal, but YC is too insecure about it so she asks MC, the manwhore of the friend circle, about it first? Does YC wake up, hand's cuffed with an itch in her ass and the only thing available to reach is MC's cock, since he is also cuffed? Is there an anal religion? Does anal sex take the place of vaginal sex once our characters discover it? Is it the only sex taught in schools in this world? I can go on, and I will if you want.
So basically these three are for inspiration and a starting point. I usually go dark with my plots and I only play in public threads. I play the badguy. Please PM me if you're interested.
To keep things simple, I will present three unusual kinks I would like to base an rp around.
Cock talking. As it sounds. For some reason or other, YC talks to MC's dick. The reason can vary, maybe YC is forced, maybe circumstances has rendered her so addled she does. Is it a kind of cock worship? Is it a cult? There more MC's cock is treated as a different entity than MC himself, the better.
Smell. Not entirely removed from pheromone play. YC has some kind of relationship to MC's cock's smell. Maybe it messes with her head. Maybe it attracts her to it. Maybe once she's had a whiff it chemically affects her brain. Maybe she's addicted to it. I am open to any ideas on this, of course.
Shallow pussies where mc can't fit entirely, both length and girth-wise. Could be connected to sexual pain and abuse but doesn't have to be. What if she's a masochistic size queen? But like she will feel pain/paingasms. Does mc use it as a weapon or motivation? Is it a point of sore pride for yc? A bet she loses? Would love a story that centers around or has this link included.
Anal fixation. Story wise. Does YC have a boyfriend who wants anal, but YC is too insecure about it so she asks MC, the manwhore of the friend circle, about it first? Does YC wake up, hand's cuffed with an itch in her ass and the only thing available to reach is MC's cock, since he is also cuffed? Is there an anal religion? Does anal sex take the place of vaginal sex once our characters discover it? Is it the only sex taught in schools in this world? I can go on, and I will if you want.
So basically these three are for inspiration and a starting point. I usually go dark with my plots and I only play in public threads. I play the badguy. Please PM me if you're interested.
Click on the spoiler below if you want to know more about me. Be warned, I am a goof.
Sooooo, for this I am just gonna throw out things I'm feeling, and would love a generous partner to indulge.
Cicada box. YC is forced to wear a wooden box filled with singing cicada. It drives her mad and when they explode and die, splattering her with their seed, her mind breaks and she starts hearing their noises until she makes MC's dick cum.
Anal. Love this kink. Can be incorporated into anything.
Destroying yc's pussy/ass. Whether it be physically, emotionally or just from cumming too hard, I just like the phrase of destroying pussy/ass.
A cleaner at a luxury hotel finds it hard to refuse a customer once she enters the room and didn't realize he was still there.
If you're interested in playing a cuck, I am interested in playing with you. NTR/cheating, or even consensual, if you want yc to eventually get fucked too, anything on this subject really, just hit me up.
MC and YC'S bf used to be best friends, then bf started dating YC and bf started hanging out lees with MC. One day YC and bf wake up tied. Apparently, to get bf back, MC is going to fuck YC and turn her into a slut to prove to bf yc is bad for him, and he'll go back to mc. Yandere vibes.
Some ditzy girl, YC asks MC how to start having anal sex with her bf, or something along those lines. Obviously a cheating story line. Dubcon probably.
Yc tries to tease her sister's bf, mc, by saying yc is experienced in sex even though it is a lie, and gets the tables turned on her.
Something a little meta with mc having his birthday and yc wanting to give a rather fuked up present? Probably an incest leaning story here.
On that note, cheating/NTR. Absolutely my favorite tag when I look for stuff online. With YC being the one who ends up being unfaithful, and not in a way to escape an abusive relationship, actually, more like, YC is seeking out an abusive relationship with mc.
Consequences to non con. YC confronts mc after what he's done, ideally some time after, telling him how it's messed up her life and a new toxic relationship begins.
Thwarted revenge. yC means to get revenge on mc for violating yC or ycs friend/family/significant other, but fails and gets the tables turned on them.
yC is a drug mule stuffed full of goods and arrived at her destination.
Twin gets convinced to take her dead twin's place as a fucktoy.
Door to door religious zealot finds herself going in to the home of someone she later realizes has the signs of a prophet of her religion. Can be worship or non con.
Wake-up blowjobs. For any reason you can think of.
Couple needs help getting pregnant and asks the husband's brother, mc.
Work interview. Lots of ways this can have a messy twist, ideally played out in a misogynistic world.
yC is a translatior of a country of our choice and is tasked with being something of a guide and liaison to mc, an important new partner to her company. Yc has been told by her boss to do anything to keep mc happy.
YC has the opportunity to identify her rapist in a line-up. Why doesn't she? And why does she come to find him afterward?
Gym girl. Yc's been working on her glutes, and is looking for validation from mc at the gym.
yC gets addicted to rimming mc.
Mother tries to convince her daughter's bad bf to stop dating her. He of course has conditions.
Judo milf. has to defend her dojo. In a gi. Works with any kind of martial arts, really.
Mother, aunts, grandmother, older sister.
Female boxer needs to talk to her dealer about her new batch of steroids.
Heist where mc betrays them all.
Small business owner. Be it bakery, fruit stand, or flower boutique? YC has a small business that is either in jeopardy because of mc, or maybe the business is just background.
Couple in desperate need for a sperm donor. MC will agree in exchange for a kind of free use contract, and will focus on anal.
YC missed their ex, that is dating MC. YC misses their ex so much they're willing to suck mc's cock just to taste their ex.
To combat depopulation in the Japanese countryside, they are making great exceptions for healthy young males. Could be tradition/cult based, too.
Something where a successful guy returns to the small town he came from.
Strong heroine shot down by powerful but conventional weapons, and raped by non-super individual.
Girl who can't orgasm gets taught that her g-spot is in her ass.
Female teacher takes an interest in her darkhorse student. Maybe she can save him, with her body?!
Some involved dark and pervy mecha plot. I have a story, PM for details
Some involved dark and pervy sentai/power ranger/monster hunter anime logic plot. I have a story, PM for details.
Please check back for more
Cicada box. YC is forced to wear a wooden box filled with singing cicada. It drives her mad and when they explode and die, splattering her with their seed, her mind breaks and she starts hearing their noises until she makes MC's dick cum.
Anal. Love this kink. Can be incorporated into anything.
Destroying yc's pussy/ass. Whether it be physically, emotionally or just from cumming too hard, I just like the phrase of destroying pussy/ass.
A cleaner at a luxury hotel finds it hard to refuse a customer once she enters the room and didn't realize he was still there.
If you're interested in playing a cuck, I am interested in playing with you. NTR/cheating, or even consensual, if you want yc to eventually get fucked too, anything on this subject really, just hit me up.
MC and YC'S bf used to be best friends, then bf started dating YC and bf started hanging out lees with MC. One day YC and bf wake up tied. Apparently, to get bf back, MC is going to fuck YC and turn her into a slut to prove to bf yc is bad for him, and he'll go back to mc. Yandere vibes.
Some ditzy girl, YC asks MC how to start having anal sex with her bf, or something along those lines. Obviously a cheating story line. Dubcon probably.
Yc tries to tease her sister's bf, mc, by saying yc is experienced in sex even though it is a lie, and gets the tables turned on her.
Something a little meta with mc having his birthday and yc wanting to give a rather fuked up present? Probably an incest leaning story here.
On that note, cheating/NTR. Absolutely my favorite tag when I look for stuff online. With YC being the one who ends up being unfaithful, and not in a way to escape an abusive relationship, actually, more like, YC is seeking out an abusive relationship with mc.
Consequences to non con. YC confronts mc after what he's done, ideally some time after, telling him how it's messed up her life and a new toxic relationship begins.
Thwarted revenge. yC means to get revenge on mc for violating yC or ycs friend/family/significant other, but fails and gets the tables turned on them.
yC is a drug mule stuffed full of goods and arrived at her destination.
Twin gets convinced to take her dead twin's place as a fucktoy.
Door to door religious zealot finds herself going in to the home of someone she later realizes has the signs of a prophet of her religion. Can be worship or non con.
Wake-up blowjobs. For any reason you can think of.
Couple needs help getting pregnant and asks the husband's brother, mc.
Work interview. Lots of ways this can have a messy twist, ideally played out in a misogynistic world.
yC is a translatior of a country of our choice and is tasked with being something of a guide and liaison to mc, an important new partner to her company. Yc has been told by her boss to do anything to keep mc happy.
YC has the opportunity to identify her rapist in a line-up. Why doesn't she? And why does she come to find him afterward?
Gym girl. Yc's been working on her glutes, and is looking for validation from mc at the gym.
yC gets addicted to rimming mc.
Mother tries to convince her daughter's bad bf to stop dating her. He of course has conditions.
Judo milf. has to defend her dojo. In a gi. Works with any kind of martial arts, really.
Mother, aunts, grandmother, older sister.
Female boxer needs to talk to her dealer about her new batch of steroids.
Heist where mc betrays them all.
Small business owner. Be it bakery, fruit stand, or flower boutique? YC has a small business that is either in jeopardy because of mc, or maybe the business is just background.
Couple in desperate need for a sperm donor. MC will agree in exchange for a kind of free use contract, and will focus on anal.
YC missed their ex, that is dating MC. YC misses their ex so much they're willing to suck mc's cock just to taste their ex.
To combat depopulation in the Japanese countryside, they are making great exceptions for healthy young males. Could be tradition/cult based, too.
Something where a successful guy returns to the small town he came from.
Strong heroine shot down by powerful but conventional weapons, and raped by non-super individual.
Girl who can't orgasm gets taught that her g-spot is in her ass.
Female teacher takes an interest in her darkhorse student. Maybe she can save him, with her body?!
Some involved dark and pervy mecha plot. I have a story, PM for details
Some involved dark and pervy sentai/power ranger/monster hunter anime logic plot. I have a story, PM for details.
Please check back for more
Hello there! I'm verse.
I write bad people. Chock full of anger and beauty and perversion. Primordial energy kind of assholes. You wanna change them, I know, but it's going to be a jagged road. But hey, that's what Stockholm syndrome is for, right?
I would love to put my guys up against naked-hearted, flawed belles. Both physically and emotionally. Complexes inward and outward, please. Sometimes that both looks and is powerful. But beautiful things are about their breaking, not their triumphs, so let's make beautiful things.
I also want hypersexual and gratuitous stuff.
I can write literary. I can write short and simple. I can experiment. Mostly I veer toward the first. None of these should mean walls of text, and mostly not one liners either. If you're poet as fuck then you can try though, that'd be interesting.
I am such a goof in the PMs. Don't worry. I think I've scared more partners away with how cool I'm not than with anything to do with my writing.
I only play in public threads.
The prompts below are little suggestions. We can build on them. They're seeds. They mean to corrupt but not do the deed themselves. Adding to them is paramount. Do not attempt them without inspiration. A heavy doze of humor is also welcome.
Any of these can be combined.
Father x daughter
Viking: Daughter of a violent viking chief wants to prove herself and challenges her father in combat. She loses horribly and is downgraded from possible heir to his toy.
Mother x son
Very open to most things that veer dark in this pairing. My all time favorite. But here are some.
Son's Birthday: Mom comes in to his room in the morning with cake, he's still asleep but has a morning boner. He wakes up to a very muffled version of Happy Birthday. Things escalates as she tries to finish him before the rest of the family shows up to celebrate him.
Don't leave: A rather emotional and economically codependent family is about to be broken up when the son accepts as scholarship at a university far away. Mother tries to make him stay.
Heir apparent: A shift in power within the family lands the son ontop, usually by defeating the father, often violently. Can be played in most genres and time periods.
Shared bed: Circumstances in adulthood mimic the times when the son used to crawl into his parent's bed, only now, maybe the menace is coming from under the sheets.
Brother x sister
Out of prison: Brother is helped by his sister when he gets out of incarceration. She does what she can for him to stay on the straight and narrow or gets sucked in to his underworld.
Old tree house: A brother tugs on his sister's heartstrings and has her go with him to their old tree house. It will soon graduate to a sex den, whether she wants to or not.
Nephew x aunt
Cool aunt: she's always been the fun relative and he's always been her favourite. How far will she go to stay relevant when her nephew's grown up and likes other things now?
Fuck up aunt: her life's such a mess she has to crash on the couch of her nephew's appartement.
Bail out: she gets a call from her nephew and he needs her to bail him out.
Son x father
Teaching: father (yc) approaches hedonistic son (mc) about relationship between men, because the father is having a sexual awakening and knows the son is experienced. The son takes advantage and turns father into his toy.
Roughhousing: son and father start playfully bantering and then wrestle. Only the father isn't stronger than the son anymore.
Brother x brother
Little brother x older brother: older brother (yc) loses a bet (gaming, physical, cards) to little brother (mc) and ends up becoming his fuck holes for a limited time, but ends up making it indefinite despite being humiliated.
Father x daughter
Viking: Daughter of a violent viking chief wants to prove herself and challenges her father in combat. She loses horribly and is downgraded from possible heir to his toy.
Mother x son
Very open to most things that veer dark in this pairing. My all time favorite. But here are some.
Son's Birthday: Mom comes in to his room in the morning with cake, he's still asleep but has a morning boner. He wakes up to a very muffled version of Happy Birthday. Things escalates as she tries to finish him before the rest of the family shows up to celebrate him.
Don't leave: A rather emotional and economically codependent family is about to be broken up when the son accepts as scholarship at a university far away. Mother tries to make him stay.
Heir apparent: A shift in power within the family lands the son ontop, usually by defeating the father, often violently. Can be played in most genres and time periods.
Shared bed: Circumstances in adulthood mimic the times when the son used to crawl into his parent's bed, only now, maybe the menace is coming from under the sheets.
Brother x sister
Out of prison: Brother is helped by his sister when he gets out of incarceration. She does what she can for him to stay on the straight and narrow or gets sucked in to his underworld.
Old tree house: A brother tugs on his sister's heartstrings and has her go with him to their old tree house. It will soon graduate to a sex den, whether she wants to or not.
Nephew x aunt
Cool aunt: she's always been the fun relative and he's always been her favourite. How far will she go to stay relevant when her nephew's grown up and likes other things now?
Fuck up aunt: her life's such a mess she has to crash on the couch of her nephew's appartement.
Bail out: she gets a call from her nephew and he needs her to bail him out.
Son x father
Teaching: father (yc) approaches hedonistic son (mc) about relationship between men, because the father is having a sexual awakening and knows the son is experienced. The son takes advantage and turns father into his toy.
Roughhousing: son and father start playfully bantering and then wrestle. Only the father isn't stronger than the son anymore.
Brother x brother
Little brother x older brother: older brother (yc) loses a bet (gaming, physical, cards) to little brother (mc) and ends up becoming his fuck holes for a limited time, but ends up making it indefinite despite being humiliated.
These prompts have violence and fighting as a selling point. Typically yc would be a tough girl who gets taking down a peg.
Judo girl: girl tries to defend her dojo in a gi. It does not work out for her.
My gang bf: her bf is in a gang and it's leader visits their home. She has to entertain.
Spoiled revenge: for any grievance, she tries to take revenge on mc, but fails.
Judo girl: girl tries to defend her dojo in a gi. It does not work out for her.
My gang bf: her bf is in a gang and it's leader visits their home. She has to entertain.
Spoiled revenge: for any grievance, she tries to take revenge on mc, but fails.
Worlds, situations or systems where yc would be low in society. Will work with oppressed races, as well.
The bill: A new political party has pushed through legal changes that take away women's rights. Yc is trying to navigate this new world.
Compound: a cult or society apart from the mainstream where other rules apply, and these do not benefit the fairer sex.
The bill: A new political party has pushed through legal changes that take away women's rights. Yc is trying to navigate this new world.
Compound: a cult or society apart from the mainstream where other rules apply, and these do not benefit the fairer sex.
Like the title says, I would LOVE something involving cock worship. Namely the literal worship of MC's cock. I can see a few ways this could happen
Cult
Simply put. MC grows up in a cult, and it is said that whoever has the best cock gets the most political power within it.
Door
MC opens the door to religion thumpers, and they are in one way or another exposed to his cock, whether by his towel falling down (if he should open wrapped only in it) or because he'd a bad person and takes them inside, Heretic style, and during raping them they see he is what their scrips have talked about, it ends up with worship, and they take him back to their compound.
Mishap
MC has interactions with YC and friends in close quarters. Maybe YC walks in on MC or accidentally sees his cock in some other way. The initial mishap gets awkward. But YC can let it go.
Reveal
YC disagrees heavily with MC. Could be they're mortal enemies or just rivals, or just happen to have a discussion. Either way, with the hubris MC has from carrying around a forearm-test clearing cock all his life, MC just whips it out.
Hormonal
Can be combined with any other story. Basically the glans has glands that completely alter YC's brain and own hormones, turning her into an addict gradually or on the spot.
I am open to ideas on this subject, and tweaks on my prompts. This story WILL be play out in public threads. Please PM if interested.
PS. while some of these ideas lean silly, which I do welcome, there will be a literary lilt to the execution.
Cult
Simply put. MC grows up in a cult, and it is said that whoever has the best cock gets the most political power within it.
Door
MC opens the door to religion thumpers, and they are in one way or another exposed to his cock, whether by his towel falling down (if he should open wrapped only in it) or because he'd a bad person and takes them inside, Heretic style, and during raping them they see he is what their scrips have talked about, it ends up with worship, and they take him back to their compound.
Mishap
MC has interactions with YC and friends in close quarters. Maybe YC walks in on MC or accidentally sees his cock in some other way. The initial mishap gets awkward. But YC can let it go.
Reveal
YC disagrees heavily with MC. Could be they're mortal enemies or just rivals, or just happen to have a discussion. Either way, with the hubris MC has from carrying around a forearm-test clearing cock all his life, MC just whips it out.
Hormonal
Can be combined with any other story. Basically the glans has glands that completely alter YC's brain and own hormones, turning her into an addict gradually or on the spot.
I am open to ideas on this subject, and tweaks on my prompts. This story WILL be play out in public threads. Please PM if interested.
PS. while some of these ideas lean silly, which I do welcome, there will be a literary lilt to the execution.
A plot I am always wanting. Mc would be a sex addict and he would be messing up all his relationships. Yc would be the women and men who gets sucked in by this. Sometimes it'd be like he spreads his own addiction to others like a decease. Angst, addiction, violence.
Yes, this kind gets it's own section. That's how dedicated I am to it.
Trying something new: yc wants to be a bit more adventurous in bed with her significant other. Ill advised, she asks mc for tips.
Anal only: a relationship or world order where total pussy neglect rules.
Trying something new: yc wants to be a bit more adventurous in bed with her significant other. Ill advised, she asks mc for tips.
Anal only: a relationship or world order where total pussy neglect rules.
If you're not familiar with the concept
When someone dies, and the need for vengeance if big enough, a Crow carries their soul back to exact the acts that may correct the wrong committed to them. Usually it's a lover avenging another.
In this version, the antagonist - whom I will only be playing AS A NPC and not my main *gasp* I know - has somehow gotten control of YC's soul, and uses her to fight back against MC, who has been resurrected as the crow. In my mind she becomes different monsters, but I'm open to other creative interpretations.
Gothic, violent and dark love blended violence ensues as MC tried to free YC from whatever shackles that keeps her in this limbo.
This will be kind of a fandom, but with a lot of freedom for us to rewrite the lore, but maybe move within the same moods and imageries.
And ok, I am open to versions where MC is actually the villain too, somehow? Bonus points if you can find that angle, haha.
Really feeling this one.
When someone dies, and the need for vengeance if big enough, a Crow carries their soul back to exact the acts that may correct the wrong committed to them. Usually it's a lover avenging another.
In this version, the antagonist - whom I will only be playing AS A NPC and not my main *gasp* I know - has somehow gotten control of YC's soul, and uses her to fight back against MC, who has been resurrected as the crow. In my mind she becomes different monsters, but I'm open to other creative interpretations.
Gothic, violent and dark love blended violence ensues as MC tried to free YC from whatever shackles that keeps her in this limbo.
This will be kind of a fandom, but with a lot of freedom for us to rewrite the lore, but maybe move within the same moods and imageries.
And ok, I am open to versions where MC is actually the villain too, somehow? Bonus points if you can find that angle, haha.
Really feeling this one.
You are artificial. You were built as a mission drone, fully articulated and cqc capable.
MC is your target.
Upon expertly navigating the obstacles put between you and your target yc and mc engage in battle. While slightly enhanced, mc should not be holding his ground against your onboard, ballistic system as well as he does. Even when you initiate the RAGE tech in your programming, your kill-events never lock in, and several of them miss. Somehow, through your code, it becomes personal.
Eventually, you find your cybernetic body compromised enough that you have to stand back.
Your facial articulators must be expressing something akin to confusion because mc, panting in a pleased way from the exchange, decide to explain
You are not primarily a mission drone. You are a pleasure bot, designed to equally desire MC's death and pleasure. In the end, you were just a toy. Yc discovers that there are bio-grown and silicone-based parts to your build, all of which have become engaged.
Mc has commissioned or even made YC.
And you have been given sentience to suffer from the conflict.
.
The point of this is gratuitous violence and sex, mixed with an intricate story. Perhaps a heavily technocratic one. Yc wants to be free thinking, and wants to hate mc. But as they keep getting close to killing him, their submissive side takes over. We can discuss how this shows itself. Does she get weaker? Does her mechanic limbs malfunction?
Throughout the story yc wil end up being blown to bits and fucked hard by mc. She will be rebuilt and she'll try to alter her programming. It'll be a desperate tale about gaining free will, but also the sweetness of surrending it. All to the backdrop of primal releases and inter-character drama. I will write not only as mc, but part of yc's interface. I would love to have a co-GM for this but am also open to gm on my own.
MC is your target.
Upon expertly navigating the obstacles put between you and your target yc and mc engage in battle. While slightly enhanced, mc should not be holding his ground against your onboard, ballistic system as well as he does. Even when you initiate the RAGE tech in your programming, your kill-events never lock in, and several of them miss. Somehow, through your code, it becomes personal.
Eventually, you find your cybernetic body compromised enough that you have to stand back.
Your facial articulators must be expressing something akin to confusion because mc, panting in a pleased way from the exchange, decide to explain
You are not primarily a mission drone. You are a pleasure bot, designed to equally desire MC's death and pleasure. In the end, you were just a toy. Yc discovers that there are bio-grown and silicone-based parts to your build, all of which have become engaged.
Mc has commissioned or even made YC.
And you have been given sentience to suffer from the conflict.
.
The point of this is gratuitous violence and sex, mixed with an intricate story. Perhaps a heavily technocratic one. Yc wants to be free thinking, and wants to hate mc. But as they keep getting close to killing him, their submissive side takes over. We can discuss how this shows itself. Does she get weaker? Does her mechanic limbs malfunction?
Throughout the story yc wil end up being blown to bits and fucked hard by mc. She will be rebuilt and she'll try to alter her programming. It'll be a desperate tale about gaining free will, but also the sweetness of surrending it. All to the backdrop of primal releases and inter-character drama. I will write not only as mc, but part of yc's interface. I would love to have a co-GM for this but am also open to gm on my own.
A feudal story set in a heavily fictionalized alternative historical Japan.
The world is whispering of monsters. There are forces of good in the government, lead by a shogunate, that oppose the powerful cult that promote this new evil, drawn from old legends and superstitions for political power.
YC is married to a prominent person who means to protect the world from the the cult. But one night your honorable house is visited by mc, a sellsword of a mongrel sword art. Yc's husband takes the challenge. Mc wins.
On top of yc's life being in shatters without a male to lead her house, the cult can now take over relatively unopposed. The world learns the truth of the monsters as they are unleashed.
YC, since she cannot stave off the monsters, as taking down just one takes a tremendous amount of resources, wants revenge on mc instead. One day she tries and fails. The failure leads to her body being taken by the man she hates the most.
After, one of the monsters attack. She looks forward to seeing mc die by a creature he helped unleash. But to both of their surprise, he bests the beast with a strength foreign to either of them.
She remembers her bloodline as a sacrificial caste long ago, now deemed holy only in tradition, but the story goes that there is power inside her, and her ancestors, that their bedmate may take part of, should he be of the right blood, too. Maybe the old legend that gave her family status is as true as the lore of the monsters?
She must now suffer the conflict of leaving the man who killed her husband, or ask him for help in carrying out what her husband stood for, and perhaps save Japan, at the steep price of her dignity.
.
This will be about fighting monsters of our design, and of YC fighting herself, as her body will give mc the ability to fight on even ground with the monsters. It's basically my twist of the enemies to lovers trope, but with a big question mark on whether they'll be lovers at all. YC has to offer herself as payment, in the physical sense, to a man who she wants to kill. All that delicious drama and depravity.
There'll be a fair amount of world building.
The world is whispering of monsters. There are forces of good in the government, lead by a shogunate, that oppose the powerful cult that promote this new evil, drawn from old legends and superstitions for political power.
YC is married to a prominent person who means to protect the world from the the cult. But one night your honorable house is visited by mc, a sellsword of a mongrel sword art. Yc's husband takes the challenge. Mc wins.
On top of yc's life being in shatters without a male to lead her house, the cult can now take over relatively unopposed. The world learns the truth of the monsters as they are unleashed.
YC, since she cannot stave off the monsters, as taking down just one takes a tremendous amount of resources, wants revenge on mc instead. One day she tries and fails. The failure leads to her body being taken by the man she hates the most.
After, one of the monsters attack. She looks forward to seeing mc die by a creature he helped unleash. But to both of their surprise, he bests the beast with a strength foreign to either of them.
She remembers her bloodline as a sacrificial caste long ago, now deemed holy only in tradition, but the story goes that there is power inside her, and her ancestors, that their bedmate may take part of, should he be of the right blood, too. Maybe the old legend that gave her family status is as true as the lore of the monsters?
She must now suffer the conflict of leaving the man who killed her husband, or ask him for help in carrying out what her husband stood for, and perhaps save Japan, at the steep price of her dignity.
.
This will be about fighting monsters of our design, and of YC fighting herself, as her body will give mc the ability to fight on even ground with the monsters. It's basically my twist of the enemies to lovers trope, but with a big question mark on whether they'll be lovers at all. YC has to offer herself as payment, in the physical sense, to a man who she wants to kill. All that delicious drama and depravity.
There'll be a fair amount of world building.
Things were prosperous for the Sasabe clan.
Their house stood between the forest and the outskirt of Tokyo herself. A grand building, the pinnacle of traditional and new architecture. It was a proud, tall monument to the heritage in their blood. Blood, though, that was thinning lately, with the expansion of the westerners at their shores. Sasabe grass grew around Sasabe flowers. A lake was filled up and drained with brooks, rich in koi, especially now when summer kept everything pregnant. Lanterns upheld life here even at this late hour, that servants may move around and do their chores, even at night.
A peace that many samurai lords could only hope for.
Giindou Sasabe was worthy. Not only by birthright, hailed from a long line of honorable and fierce fighters under a grateful shogunate, but also by his actions in the privileged life he'd lived. He used his family name to permeate military and social ranks further. People listened to him when he talked. He'd even married into a line of witches, that even with faded powers held high consideration in this neighborhood. She was beautiful too, of course. Nothing less for the kingly man.
But men that can be considered kings have never been loved by all. As Giindou's coffers filled with silver mumonginsen, so did the hearts of his adversaries and rivals with envy. Envy could kill a man as well as any poison. And enemies at his level also had coins to spread around. That silver and copper spoke to the steel of a blade. To the wielder Lord Giindou Sasabe's life was worth as much as the urchins he passed when he went into Tokyo proper to bring home sweets for his lovely wife. It didn't help that the lord was opposing Japan's last resource in the war against the foreigners. An old dispute, filled with superstition and gory history as old things are. And just as venomous.
Ishida Sakuragi was a jagged shadow on the path through the estate walls. His bloodline had ran in tandem with Sasabe. His fathers had spilled blood so that Sasabe's wouldn't have to. Honored soldiers at first, but soldiers die, and with their dwindling numbers but growing expertise, the Sakuragi clan had been given other tasks throughout Japan's unfolding childhood. They dispatched of powerful entities in the night, and provided shadow favors. Naively, the early sons of Sakuragi House had thought this would give them riches fort heir children - things were promised them, after all - but behind their backs they were called mongrels as they were sent like lowbred animals at dirty problems. When riches were divided, there was never a Sakuragi by the table, only outside, guarding the door.
Ishida was the last, imbued with the family sword art and bitterness. Though he much preferred the bitter of drink, instead. He had served dutifully under his uncle and aunt, whom inherited him from a father who died doing the dirty work that was passed down through their lineage. But when the elderly pair passed as well, handing him the last secrets they knew of their murdering choreography, the boy lost his way. But he found libation; purpose in the glass, and in the lap of the red lantern girls. He saw it in the arcs of blood his invincibly blade drew, too. With only one Sakuragi left, he found work often from the political caste, and learned abhorrent secrets.
It darkened the boy into the young man that had come to haunt Sasabe now. With a small wealth tucked away - earmarked to be squandered on whores and cheap, fatty meals - and his head filled up with justifiable feuds, the last of Sakuragi had come to tear down the best of Sasabe. Like a individual breeze he'd arrived quiet, and touched the unarmored necks of the guards. While low born and ragged, Ishida - Ishin to his familiars - his skill was unmatched and unholy. The last of four noble guards fell without their heads. Ishin balanced one particular skull, its mouth agape, lax in death, on the side of his blade as he walked into the courtyard. His arm was out to the side as the neck bled and marked his forward march.
When he called, the master would come out, preceded and followed by loyal men and staff. They would see many symbols on Ishin's hakama-pants, stitched on there by a prostitute with nimble fingers, each marking a memento of those he'd killed. He still held the head up on his sword. The standing torches were lit, and their red tongues were mirrored in the lake. It scared the koi and shortened their lives. Nishin stood in the middle, tall and narrow but for his shoulders. His face was still painfully beautiful from youth, but marred with shadows of his war-tested memories. In this light, his eyes were undoubtedly red. They were a rusted brown during the day. His self-tied black hair was mostly up and back, but a few blades fell around his face. A face that would have been inviting with it's pretty bones, if his mouth wasn't set in such a depraved calm.
"Master Sasabe." he started and the soldiers shifted their feet, grabbed their weapons. Three broke loose from the ring they'd formed around their young, rude visitor. They acted before their Lord, because they were adamant on punishing the intruder, and their departure from protocol would cost them. "You live too well. You carry your head too high." Ishin's voice was steady and deep, a lifetime older than his actual years. "I have come to cut it down."
"Dog!" Someone who wore the uniform of a leader said. The three who'd come twisted their scabbards to strike the whelp down. Ishin lowered his head and his stance.
"Mongrel Scroll." Ishin announced in a whisper. The soldiers tilted their chins in confusion. They had heard about the Sakuragi heritage, it seemed, even if they could not place it. It was more of a fairytale than a recognized and studied technique. He would educate them. "Wheel scripture." He had chosen which maneuver would take their lives.
And just as the men tensed to draw their katana, the hair on the head on Ishin's blade flailed and settled. The three soldiers stilled in their quest for honor for their Lord. And then they collapsed one way, while their heads rolled another. There was an uproar in the servants when they realized the invader had sliced a ring with his sword so quick, they had not seen him spin, and the head on his sword had not had the time to fall even an inch. There was a circle drawn in the sand around his feet as proof he had indeed moved. Ishin finally flicked his wrist and sent the head rolling toward Giindou's feet.
"On your honor, on your name, on your life, I challenge you, Sasabe. You will die in duel, or you will die a coward. Do you accept?" he asked as he stuck his sword back in its sheath. They would all see the famous details of his weapon; the sprouted roots from the low of its blade infesting its handguard. His eyes flashed a sadistic red when he took the broad legged stance and hunched bow of someone readying a quick assault, as though the master had already agreed to fight. His teeth glittered with a grin in the night, canines prominent and coated in excited spittle.
Their house stood between the forest and the outskirt of Tokyo herself. A grand building, the pinnacle of traditional and new architecture. It was a proud, tall monument to the heritage in their blood. Blood, though, that was thinning lately, with the expansion of the westerners at their shores. Sasabe grass grew around Sasabe flowers. A lake was filled up and drained with brooks, rich in koi, especially now when summer kept everything pregnant. Lanterns upheld life here even at this late hour, that servants may move around and do their chores, even at night.
A peace that many samurai lords could only hope for.
Giindou Sasabe was worthy. Not only by birthright, hailed from a long line of honorable and fierce fighters under a grateful shogunate, but also by his actions in the privileged life he'd lived. He used his family name to permeate military and social ranks further. People listened to him when he talked. He'd even married into a line of witches, that even with faded powers held high consideration in this neighborhood. She was beautiful too, of course. Nothing less for the kingly man.
But men that can be considered kings have never been loved by all. As Giindou's coffers filled with silver mumonginsen, so did the hearts of his adversaries and rivals with envy. Envy could kill a man as well as any poison. And enemies at his level also had coins to spread around. That silver and copper spoke to the steel of a blade. To the wielder Lord Giindou Sasabe's life was worth as much as the urchins he passed when he went into Tokyo proper to bring home sweets for his lovely wife. It didn't help that the lord was opposing Japan's last resource in the war against the foreigners. An old dispute, filled with superstition and gory history as old things are. And just as venomous.
For all the good that his honor had brought him, his fortune brimming and his rewards plenty, it had also brought him this, on this night.
Ishida Sakuragi was a jagged shadow on the path through the estate walls. His bloodline had ran in tandem with Sasabe. His fathers had spilled blood so that Sasabe's wouldn't have to. Honored soldiers at first, but soldiers die, and with their dwindling numbers but growing expertise, the Sakuragi clan had been given other tasks throughout Japan's unfolding childhood. They dispatched of powerful entities in the night, and provided shadow favors. Naively, the early sons of Sakuragi House had thought this would give them riches fort heir children - things were promised them, after all - but behind their backs they were called mongrels as they were sent like lowbred animals at dirty problems. When riches were divided, there was never a Sakuragi by the table, only outside, guarding the door.
Ishida was the last, imbued with the family sword art and bitterness. Though he much preferred the bitter of drink, instead. He had served dutifully under his uncle and aunt, whom inherited him from a father who died doing the dirty work that was passed down through their lineage. But when the elderly pair passed as well, handing him the last secrets they knew of their murdering choreography, the boy lost his way. But he found libation; purpose in the glass, and in the lap of the red lantern girls. He saw it in the arcs of blood his invincibly blade drew, too. With only one Sakuragi left, he found work often from the political caste, and learned abhorrent secrets.
It darkened the boy into the young man that had come to haunt Sasabe now. With a small wealth tucked away - earmarked to be squandered on whores and cheap, fatty meals - and his head filled up with justifiable feuds, the last of Sakuragi had come to tear down the best of Sasabe. Like a individual breeze he'd arrived quiet, and touched the unarmored necks of the guards. While low born and ragged, Ishida - Ishin to his familiars - his skill was unmatched and unholy. The last of four noble guards fell without their heads. Ishin balanced one particular skull, its mouth agape, lax in death, on the side of his blade as he walked into the courtyard. His arm was out to the side as the neck bled and marked his forward march.
When he called, the master would come out, preceded and followed by loyal men and staff. They would see many symbols on Ishin's hakama-pants, stitched on there by a prostitute with nimble fingers, each marking a memento of those he'd killed. He still held the head up on his sword. The standing torches were lit, and their red tongues were mirrored in the lake. It scared the koi and shortened their lives. Nishin stood in the middle, tall and narrow but for his shoulders. His face was still painfully beautiful from youth, but marred with shadows of his war-tested memories. In this light, his eyes were undoubtedly red. They were a rusted brown during the day. His self-tied black hair was mostly up and back, but a few blades fell around his face. A face that would have been inviting with it's pretty bones, if his mouth wasn't set in such a depraved calm.
"Master Sasabe." he started and the soldiers shifted their feet, grabbed their weapons. Three broke loose from the ring they'd formed around their young, rude visitor. They acted before their Lord, because they were adamant on punishing the intruder, and their departure from protocol would cost them. "You live too well. You carry your head too high." Ishin's voice was steady and deep, a lifetime older than his actual years. "I have come to cut it down."
"Dog!" Someone who wore the uniform of a leader said. The three who'd come twisted their scabbards to strike the whelp down. Ishin lowered his head and his stance.
"Mongrel Scroll." Ishin announced in a whisper. The soldiers tilted their chins in confusion. They had heard about the Sakuragi heritage, it seemed, even if they could not place it. It was more of a fairytale than a recognized and studied technique. He would educate them. "Wheel scripture." He had chosen which maneuver would take their lives.
And just as the men tensed to draw their katana, the hair on the head on Ishin's blade flailed and settled. The three soldiers stilled in their quest for honor for their Lord. And then they collapsed one way, while their heads rolled another. There was an uproar in the servants when they realized the invader had sliced a ring with his sword so quick, they had not seen him spin, and the head on his sword had not had the time to fall even an inch. There was a circle drawn in the sand around his feet as proof he had indeed moved. Ishin finally flicked his wrist and sent the head rolling toward Giindou's feet.
"On your honor, on your name, on your life, I challenge you, Sasabe. You will die in duel, or you will die a coward. Do you accept?" he asked as he stuck his sword back in its sheath. They would all see the famous details of his weapon; the sprouted roots from the low of its blade infesting its handguard. His eyes flashed a sadistic red when he took the broad legged stance and hunched bow of someone readying a quick assault, as though the master had already agreed to fight. His teeth glittered with a grin in the night, canines prominent and coated in excited spittle.
A worm on the horizon. Nothing at first, just another shadow between the smog clouds during a lilting dawn. But it grows disproportionally, explosively. Until it is two wings on its back and one on its tail, set atop the skyscraper that's fortified with fanning steel beams, planted on skeletal bars out of the building. As though the architect and myriad builders had anticipated it. The monster calls to the sky and turns the glass into sparkling fog, until its breath vibrates and transforms into heat tendrils. And then that melting air ignites. A pillar of fire straight up, out of the chasm of its throat.
Men in armor arrive on bulky motorbikes and come out from brutalist cars. Spears and swords, no rifles or firearms. They converge on the entrances of the building as people flood out.
There have always been dragons. They have defined our world, our advancements.
Even with the rise of modernity, combustion engines, the digital age, nothing has become more valuable or storied than the monsters that slay us, and lay claim to our riches.
Knights were therefor always needed, and empowered by kings. The rule of the world is still monarchy. The large cities have castles of glass and steel.
And corruption.
-
Okay, this is what I want. I want the world we live in, but one that sprung out of medieval times. I am not a history buff, so let's just say dragons entered the stage in a big way when people wore armor and rode horses and jousted. While it didn't stunt the world, it dictated what would come next. Everything we have today still exists, but so does the castes known from our favorite fantasy and knight media.
There is a whole industry around hunting and killing dragons, but also around defending from them. The old ways work best. Blessed steel, and knighted people. Magical objects. I would like to keep the magic mystic, even if there will be witches and wizards involved, it will be knights that do the killing and fighting. I want to craft lore with you, but we'll not copy paste DnD and call it a day. Gothic themes are welcome. There will be grit and grime and a kind of 'honor market' where people have made an industry out of knighthood. Who makes the armor, who houses them, who is the best? What are the rules and commandments of a knight? How are we going to bend them to make our morally gray and sometimes abyssal characters?
Let's get into the politics, even if it must not take over, either planning or the plot. How do we craft a power-climate where our story can thrive, even if the characters may not? How are the kingdoms getting money, how do they maintain power and honor? What lengths do they go through to kill dragons and acquire the right knights for the job?
And then there are the dragons. There are the land-killers that roam in greater, desolate plains. Impossible targets, Hero makers, when they aren't just filling graveyards by the dozens. But also creatures that plague villages or hide in mountains. The fire breathers that may bring kingdoms to their knees, and the legends in caves. What weapons does humanity and its knights have to fight them? What is the lore around them? Let's hammer it out!
And the character interaction and smut? Well, I like things dark. These aren't going to be frolics in glittering meadows. This is going to be unflattering fucks up against alley walls, beside garbage. Modern world, yes, but medieval in scope.
I am wanting to plan this world with you, but of course have a ton of ideas. Please contact me if you're interested in this.
This will be played in public threads.
Men in armor arrive on bulky motorbikes and come out from brutalist cars. Spears and swords, no rifles or firearms. They converge on the entrances of the building as people flood out.
There have always been dragons. They have defined our world, our advancements.
Even with the rise of modernity, combustion engines, the digital age, nothing has become more valuable or storied than the monsters that slay us, and lay claim to our riches.
Knights were therefor always needed, and empowered by kings. The rule of the world is still monarchy. The large cities have castles of glass and steel.
And corruption.
-
Okay, this is what I want. I want the world we live in, but one that sprung out of medieval times. I am not a history buff, so let's just say dragons entered the stage in a big way when people wore armor and rode horses and jousted. While it didn't stunt the world, it dictated what would come next. Everything we have today still exists, but so does the castes known from our favorite fantasy and knight media.
There is a whole industry around hunting and killing dragons, but also around defending from them. The old ways work best. Blessed steel, and knighted people. Magical objects. I would like to keep the magic mystic, even if there will be witches and wizards involved, it will be knights that do the killing and fighting. I want to craft lore with you, but we'll not copy paste DnD and call it a day. Gothic themes are welcome. There will be grit and grime and a kind of 'honor market' where people have made an industry out of knighthood. Who makes the armor, who houses them, who is the best? What are the rules and commandments of a knight? How are we going to bend them to make our morally gray and sometimes abyssal characters?
Let's get into the politics, even if it must not take over, either planning or the plot. How do we craft a power-climate where our story can thrive, even if the characters may not? How are the kingdoms getting money, how do they maintain power and honor? What lengths do they go through to kill dragons and acquire the right knights for the job?
And then there are the dragons. There are the land-killers that roam in greater, desolate plains. Impossible targets, Hero makers, when they aren't just filling graveyards by the dozens. But also creatures that plague villages or hide in mountains. The fire breathers that may bring kingdoms to their knees, and the legends in caves. What weapons does humanity and its knights have to fight them? What is the lore around them? Let's hammer it out!
And the character interaction and smut? Well, I like things dark. These aren't going to be frolics in glittering meadows. This is going to be unflattering fucks up against alley walls, beside garbage. Modern world, yes, but medieval in scope.
I am wanting to plan this world with you, but of course have a ton of ideas. Please contact me if you're interested in this.
This will be played in public threads.
Pen, mightier than the sword? Your silver tongue would be witless on my cutlass, and your words would be flightless, wing clipped, as your quill would flitter to the ground.
gif are found here: sonamhelps.tumblr.com/post/175264695132
I am by no means a history buff, but I have watched some media lately that reminded me of my adoration for victorian-themes.
I have this idea for a world based on that kind of aesthetic, but like anything I do, it'd be dark.
In an amalgamation of then-Paris and then-London, which would be our version of a gone Europe that might have lilted on with its old tastes for longer than its advancement needed it to, a society thrives. We can name the places what we want. If you are a cartographer go nuts.
Basically this world is affected by something I've done before, called The Duelist Economy. The idea of duels and violent competition pitting one combatant against another sees its hayday during or before our story. MC would be from a clan that is particularly known for its prowess in battle.
While competitive violence is in focus, it is of course land and actual currency, that rules the world. But the big families keep their place in society not only by marrying well or using their verbal wit, but also by having a good champion(s) to their name. Like anything we humans come to worship, there'd be a lot of lore and air around a successful duelist.
That's the base of it. I have a few ideas of how it could go, all of them more or less starting with YC needing the skills of MC for any reason. We'd make it dire, we'd make it bitter, we'd make it bloody. And, of course, we'd make it full of smut. I am known to write abhorrent, beautiful villains, and I'm not going to change that for this. This would be strongly from a hetero angle, but I am open to other perspective as well, if you have them, but I think society itself with be rather conservative.
This would be a world building endeavor, even if the bones are already there. Coming at this with the expectation of a regency romance will be a mistake, BUT knowing of some of the tropes and wanting to turn them on their heads will definitely be of help.
Some directions we could go would be jilted childhood friends, bitter family feuds, strong societal pressure.
As always, you are welcome to suggest any storyline where you'd play more than one main character against mine, but it's not required. I am ready to craft an armada of supporting cast for this. It'd be to your benefit if you come at this with an inclination to see your characters suffer because of mine.
I mean to write this jaunt in public threads.
I hope to get some interest and look forward to hearing from you!
Also, I am a goof in PMs, don't expect this semi-serious meter when we talk things out.
gif are found here: sonamhelps.tumblr.com/post/175264695132
I am by no means a history buff, but I have watched some media lately that reminded me of my adoration for victorian-themes.
I have this idea for a world based on that kind of aesthetic, but like anything I do, it'd be dark.
In an amalgamation of then-Paris and then-London, which would be our version of a gone Europe that might have lilted on with its old tastes for longer than its advancement needed it to, a society thrives. We can name the places what we want. If you are a cartographer go nuts.
Basically this world is affected by something I've done before, called The Duelist Economy. The idea of duels and violent competition pitting one combatant against another sees its hayday during or before our story. MC would be from a clan that is particularly known for its prowess in battle.
While competitive violence is in focus, it is of course land and actual currency, that rules the world. But the big families keep their place in society not only by marrying well or using their verbal wit, but also by having a good champion(s) to their name. Like anything we humans come to worship, there'd be a lot of lore and air around a successful duelist.
That's the base of it. I have a few ideas of how it could go, all of them more or less starting with YC needing the skills of MC for any reason. We'd make it dire, we'd make it bitter, we'd make it bloody. And, of course, we'd make it full of smut. I am known to write abhorrent, beautiful villains, and I'm not going to change that for this. This would be strongly from a hetero angle, but I am open to other perspective as well, if you have them, but I think society itself with be rather conservative.
This would be a world building endeavor, even if the bones are already there. Coming at this with the expectation of a regency romance will be a mistake, BUT knowing of some of the tropes and wanting to turn them on their heads will definitely be of help.
Some directions we could go would be jilted childhood friends, bitter family feuds, strong societal pressure.
As always, you are welcome to suggest any storyline where you'd play more than one main character against mine, but it's not required. I am ready to craft an armada of supporting cast for this. It'd be to your benefit if you come at this with an inclination to see your characters suffer because of mine.
I mean to write this jaunt in public threads.
I hope to get some interest and look forward to hearing from you!
Also, I am a goof in PMs, don't expect this semi-serious meter when we talk things out.
It's not required that you have seen the series but it helps.
The FBI has lost it's empath from the field. Because of his prolific success in assessing any violent murder scene, and profiling the unsub, the bureau started a program to weed people with similar abilities out. Those who show aptitude are fast forwarded to training and initiation independent of what rank they start with.
Not only did the program soon yield a viable and promising candidate, but two. The cadettes were given priority under the commander that started the program, a mentor of the first empath. It went well for some time, and even during their training, the cadettes solved cases by entering a fresh crime scene and instinctively creating a profile. The last empath linked only to the assailant, but the pair of cadettes had one who empathizes with the assailant and one that empathized with the victim.
However briefly successful, the pair chose not to continue as empaths after graduating from the program. The commander has plans of trying to revive their active duty.
.
Hoookay, so, this is basically a fandom of Hannibal the tv series. More accurately, it is a spinoff where two empaths like Will Graham have proven to have similar abilities but one connects to the murderer and the other to the victim.
This is my design.
MC would be male and empathize with the murderer. And YC would be female and empathize with the victim. They'd go onto a crimescene and relive it, and act out parts as they set themselves into their respective roles. Because of reasons and drama we will discuss, they are now not working together. But are being pushed back into said duty.
This will take a rather skilled writer but I am excited to talk to anyone who may be feeling this story!
The FBI has lost it's empath from the field. Because of his prolific success in assessing any violent murder scene, and profiling the unsub, the bureau started a program to weed people with similar abilities out. Those who show aptitude are fast forwarded to training and initiation independent of what rank they start with.
Not only did the program soon yield a viable and promising candidate, but two. The cadettes were given priority under the commander that started the program, a mentor of the first empath. It went well for some time, and even during their training, the cadettes solved cases by entering a fresh crime scene and instinctively creating a profile. The last empath linked only to the assailant, but the pair of cadettes had one who empathizes with the assailant and one that empathized with the victim.
However briefly successful, the pair chose not to continue as empaths after graduating from the program. The commander has plans of trying to revive their active duty.
.
Hoookay, so, this is basically a fandom of Hannibal the tv series. More accurately, it is a spinoff where two empaths like Will Graham have proven to have similar abilities but one connects to the murderer and the other to the victim.
This is my design.
MC would be male and empathize with the murderer. And YC would be female and empathize with the victim. They'd go onto a crimescene and relive it, and act out parts as they set themselves into their respective roles. Because of reasons and drama we will discuss, they are now not working together. But are being pushed back into said duty.
This will take a rather skilled writer but I am excited to talk to anyone who may be feeling this story!
The boy loved the sea.
He had grown up on its legends, swimming in its stories. It is fantastical enough without the words of the humans that worship it, and pray to it for rain and food and freedom. The poetry in his seaside village was like that, too. Sometimes standing on shore was enough. Humans don't have enough senses for the liquid world.
But little children are not as appreciative to awesome powers as they ought. He used to run past his mother and father and grandparents on little tubby legs, through the rising smoke of waves colliding with rocks. A brave little idiot, with his arms out, breathing in the flavor of kelp and breathing out the vapor of adolescence as the sea filtered through his tiny, brave lungs. It was to calm his confidence that his mother told him about the patron saints of their community.
Tidelings. Goddesses that visit from the water.
He was at once awed and frightened. Sometimes they were beautiful and sometimes they were unforgiving. It wasn't far from how he saw his own mother. He was stricken by the romanticism and smitten with new wonder. When he ran now, he did have his eyes on the surf, and when the water turned into dust and pelted him it was a wonder, not a given. His mother was successful, she had imbued him with respect that bordered on infatuation, so that he wouldn't lose himself suddenly in the foamy folds.
It was another boy standing on a dingy boat now. Calling Cove. Since the patch of land was cut out by the sea it was technically an island with way into its saltwater lake, but the channel that made it one was barely enough for medium vessels to pass. Its lagoon wasn't welcoming tonight, but being mostly cut off from the Autumn swells did make the fishermen cocky. Enough to hire a son of the known Drifter Bloodline.
Gida Solland didn't see his mother in the mermaid legend anymore. He'd seen too many other things. A big coming of age secret told - he was indeed of blood that could call upon humanoid but not humane creatures of the deep - and an introduction to the commerce of rare and profitable oceanic creatures. There was truth to them coming to love and drown young men. The murals and gothic shorts were at least that true. His father had thrown him in when the solstice was whipping up their fishing grounds.
For sure he would have sunk, feeling betrayed.
But there was something coming up for him. He felt fingers, he knew it, and she lifted him out of the water. And when he stared at her, and he couldn't quite make her out from the things that fanned out of her and the sea itself, father stuck a harpoon through her neck. Gida had clawed at her, trying to help, but in holding her, the angle of the harpoon brought most of her throat and voicebox with in a yank. The boy had lost her to the depths. Father beat him to a pulp and offered the remains of her to the altar they kept in a secret, roomy cellar in the middle of town.
Gida moved. When others, in-the-know fishers tracked him down, he sold his services. Participation in one Tideling's catch meant eating for a year. Mostly Gida drank. It was good that his black lush hair and novel-length bones kept him with girls in his cheap, cold, and mold-visited boat-shed. He killed his idealism of the gods in the salt one by one.
Maybe this was another precipice, then. He held on to the chain of the crane, it had already bruised his leg. One of the new crew asked why the Bait wasn't wearing a vest, or a wetsuit. Joey Ivan, the man who'd come to Gida with half a bottle of cheap whiskey and new, ATM cash a few days ago, told the newbie Maidens didn't go for people if they looked too safe.
Another edge. This wasn't the furthest he'd leapt into the ocean by far. But it felt meaningful. The lack he had in his heart was significant. He'd never gone down like this. He had a handful of Maidens to his name, a somewhat reliable Drifter. But his heart felt sick. He felt rotten more than his life should have made him. He chuckled bitterly and the newbie thought he looked ancient even in his drawn taut skin and blushing lips.
"Guess it's time." Gida said and toppled forward. The men watched as their partner in the ghostly shirt and worn-down jeans crunched into the surface expertly.
Here it was. Enveloping him with a chock. He thought this was good enough. If he could stay here, at the beginning of a dive, and his human lungs would let him, then it'd be alright.
Womb of gray.
But the serenity had a cost. All the alarms came on hard and loud. He looked at the surface but didn't command his arms or legs to take him there. He was falling. And he thought that might be the price of killing gods, all this time, just because they weren't mighty enough to stand against human greed. He looked around, and the swallowing of the sun by the electric, heavy clouds didn't give him much. Algae churchyard snowed over her face in the turbulence of the oncoming water, inspired by waves overhead. Felt like the last of something.
Like something he deserved.
He had grown up on its legends, swimming in its stories. It is fantastical enough without the words of the humans that worship it, and pray to it for rain and food and freedom. The poetry in his seaside village was like that, too. Sometimes standing on shore was enough. Humans don't have enough senses for the liquid world.
But little children are not as appreciative to awesome powers as they ought. He used to run past his mother and father and grandparents on little tubby legs, through the rising smoke of waves colliding with rocks. A brave little idiot, with his arms out, breathing in the flavor of kelp and breathing out the vapor of adolescence as the sea filtered through his tiny, brave lungs. It was to calm his confidence that his mother told him about the patron saints of their community.
Tidelings. Goddesses that visit from the water.
He was at once awed and frightened. Sometimes they were beautiful and sometimes they were unforgiving. It wasn't far from how he saw his own mother. He was stricken by the romanticism and smitten with new wonder. When he ran now, he did have his eyes on the surf, and when the water turned into dust and pelted him it was a wonder, not a given. His mother was successful, she had imbued him with respect that bordered on infatuation, so that he wouldn't lose himself suddenly in the foamy folds.
It was another boy standing on a dingy boat now. Calling Cove. Since the patch of land was cut out by the sea it was technically an island with way into its saltwater lake, but the channel that made it one was barely enough for medium vessels to pass. Its lagoon wasn't welcoming tonight, but being mostly cut off from the Autumn swells did make the fishermen cocky. Enough to hire a son of the known Drifter Bloodline.
Gida Solland didn't see his mother in the mermaid legend anymore. He'd seen too many other things. A big coming of age secret told - he was indeed of blood that could call upon humanoid but not humane creatures of the deep - and an introduction to the commerce of rare and profitable oceanic creatures. There was truth to them coming to love and drown young men. The murals and gothic shorts were at least that true. His father had thrown him in when the solstice was whipping up their fishing grounds.
For sure he would have sunk, feeling betrayed.
But there was something coming up for him. He felt fingers, he knew it, and she lifted him out of the water. And when he stared at her, and he couldn't quite make her out from the things that fanned out of her and the sea itself, father stuck a harpoon through her neck. Gida had clawed at her, trying to help, but in holding her, the angle of the harpoon brought most of her throat and voicebox with in a yank. The boy had lost her to the depths. Father beat him to a pulp and offered the remains of her to the altar they kept in a secret, roomy cellar in the middle of town.
Gida moved. When others, in-the-know fishers tracked him down, he sold his services. Participation in one Tideling's catch meant eating for a year. Mostly Gida drank. It was good that his black lush hair and novel-length bones kept him with girls in his cheap, cold, and mold-visited boat-shed. He killed his idealism of the gods in the salt one by one.
Maybe this was another precipice, then. He held on to the chain of the crane, it had already bruised his leg. One of the new crew asked why the Bait wasn't wearing a vest, or a wetsuit. Joey Ivan, the man who'd come to Gida with half a bottle of cheap whiskey and new, ATM cash a few days ago, told the newbie Maidens didn't go for people if they looked too safe.
Another edge. This wasn't the furthest he'd leapt into the ocean by far. But it felt meaningful. The lack he had in his heart was significant. He'd never gone down like this. He had a handful of Maidens to his name, a somewhat reliable Drifter. But his heart felt sick. He felt rotten more than his life should have made him. He chuckled bitterly and the newbie thought he looked ancient even in his drawn taut skin and blushing lips.
"Guess it's time." Gida said and toppled forward. The men watched as their partner in the ghostly shirt and worn-down jeans crunched into the surface expertly.
Here it was. Enveloping him with a chock. He thought this was good enough. If he could stay here, at the beginning of a dive, and his human lungs would let him, then it'd be alright.
Womb of gray.
But the serenity had a cost. All the alarms came on hard and loud. He looked at the surface but didn't command his arms or legs to take him there. He was falling. And he thought that might be the price of killing gods, all this time, just because they weren't mighty enough to stand against human greed. He looked around, and the swallowing of the sun by the electric, heavy clouds didn't give him much. Algae churchyard snowed over her face in the turbulence of the oncoming water, inspired by waves overhead. Felt like the last of something.
Like something he deserved.
The Iringham Estate was old.
It was a stone house, or a collection of them, joined together at whatever ancient architects whims. Victorian fences on the roofs and the two speared towers should suggest the era of its latest renovations, but the cots strewn around, rounded forges and burrows in the ground with stoned lips and mossy surfaces, hinted at an almost eternal history.
The current owner was a philanthropist. A modern day king. Jack Wolram, of Wolram Industries. And, like any such privileged man, he relied on good help.
That's why the add had gone up, and why the eventual perfect candidate for caretaker of the animals here would be sent. She would arrive at the gates after having been driven through the forest when a small town was the last populated area she'd seen. The grounds opened up in a fantastically large clearing. Beyond the houses, which were at the farthest reaches of the clearing, a smaller mountain stretched, and beyond that, the sea. Pens and other fenced areas greeted her. Her driver, who would keep everything else; the house and the land, along with a skeleton crew, explained that these creatures were beautiful abominations, and that Jack collected them.
There were impossibly large dogs to feed; towering beasts with proud necks, long legs. Pedigree of both doberman and dogo argentino, Herman, the keeper, said. When the canines came up to the car and she was let out of it, they were a head taller than even the stately built driver. He petted them on the chest. Apparently the dogs were free to roam.
"Jack has them bred." Herman said and corrected to collar of his wool jacket, perfect for the slightly chilled summer here. "And over there, are the sheep. Go on."
And when she did go on, the sheep were also large. But their size lost to the bizarre wonder of their faces, which were decidedly human ones, looking back at her through the horizontal beams of their large pen. Covered in fine fur, the features were dumb and the eyes were large, looking at her. Strewn about the grounds were a handful of them in varying sizes. Herman gestured to bicycles here and there, repainted in a yellow and red, some of them with big baskets in front, and others with attached carts in the back.
"For your utility. These animals eat a lot." It would seem Herman, despite the gray hair sticking out of the flat cap her wore, had a friendly sense of humor. As they walked, his arm swung wide, meaning all of the land, and more specifically, the barns. "The enclosed places have more exotic individuals." There was some reverence in his voice, then. "And you will be outfitted with working clothes, a walkie set to the right frequency, and any number of keys you'll need." They reached a shed that looked modern, with its brushed steel and black fuse boxes and matte antennae. He opened the door on its well-oiled hinges. A control room with myriad screens inside. On the only wall not occupied with images from the cameras, blades of different lengths hung, sheathed and ready. "These are for you protection." he said after having gone through everything else. "The dogs will act as a line of defense as well, they are quite capable, but Jack doesn't like firearms." Though Herman did tap a metal box on the floor when he said it, suggesting that's exactly what it contained. There was no lock on it.
It was strange then, that he pointed at an old spear with more respect. It was a long weapon in a corner, and must be copper in part, since there were green details to its decay. Newer but by no means new, orange leather was wrapped around its middle, presumably for a better grip. "This, however, is for the piece de resistance." Herman said. He then nodded to the largest screen on the wall, which was split in four squares. The first one, with the most light, showed the entrance of a cave. If she had minded the look of the stone in the mountain, she could guess it was its closest rock root right behind the house. The mouth of it was lit by daylight now, but quickly turned abyssal. The other screens were various degrees of black, meaning they were inside the cave, but one of them clearly showed the shimmers of a body of water.
"Please be careful. Jack is a bit reckless about that one, when he should be really careful. You will be inspired to call it any number of names, but it's a He, and he is best categorized as a Truant. Though he will tell you what You may call him, I'm sure." Herman was both excited and sullen at telling her this. "Our Truant is temperamental to say the least, and will only be tolerable if one person goes in at a time. Some would say he is capricious. He'll go back on his own rules if it pleases him, and he has even Jack wound around his finger." Herman sighed as he plucked the spear and dragged it over, resting its dull end on the floor, tipping it for her to hold. "It's a heavy responsibility. And dangerous. But as you know, Jack pays well, so maybe you think it'll be worth it." He grinned. "Or maybe you're in it for the adventure?"
He then pointed at another screen, a small river between the treeline and the grounds. "It's particularly rich in fish. There is net for you, but we have our own fishing staff as well. The Truant's diet it disturbing. Try not to lose your courage over it." Herman sighed and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, which made his waist look even narrower. Now he resembled the boy he must have been, a long time ago. "Ah, well. There you go, lass. I would love to tell you every little detail, but Jack wants you to experience this place for yourself. There is staff all around to ask, but mostly we just want a friendly face for the animals here, so you'll be feeding and visiting them all, daily. Do it at your own pace, and make particularly good friends with the dogs, though they won't go into the grotto with you." he smiled again and left her in the shed, though his boots didn't trot all too hurriedly, if she should try to catch up and ask him anything. He wouldn't give much more than he already had. It was time for her to go explore.
It was a stone house, or a collection of them, joined together at whatever ancient architects whims. Victorian fences on the roofs and the two speared towers should suggest the era of its latest renovations, but the cots strewn around, rounded forges and burrows in the ground with stoned lips and mossy surfaces, hinted at an almost eternal history.
The current owner was a philanthropist. A modern day king. Jack Wolram, of Wolram Industries. And, like any such privileged man, he relied on good help.
That's why the add had gone up, and why the eventual perfect candidate for caretaker of the animals here would be sent. She would arrive at the gates after having been driven through the forest when a small town was the last populated area she'd seen. The grounds opened up in a fantastically large clearing. Beyond the houses, which were at the farthest reaches of the clearing, a smaller mountain stretched, and beyond that, the sea. Pens and other fenced areas greeted her. Her driver, who would keep everything else; the house and the land, along with a skeleton crew, explained that these creatures were beautiful abominations, and that Jack collected them.
There were impossibly large dogs to feed; towering beasts with proud necks, long legs. Pedigree of both doberman and dogo argentino, Herman, the keeper, said. When the canines came up to the car and she was let out of it, they were a head taller than even the stately built driver. He petted them on the chest. Apparently the dogs were free to roam.
"Jack has them bred." Herman said and corrected to collar of his wool jacket, perfect for the slightly chilled summer here. "And over there, are the sheep. Go on."
And when she did go on, the sheep were also large. But their size lost to the bizarre wonder of their faces, which were decidedly human ones, looking back at her through the horizontal beams of their large pen. Covered in fine fur, the features were dumb and the eyes were large, looking at her. Strewn about the grounds were a handful of them in varying sizes. Herman gestured to bicycles here and there, repainted in a yellow and red, some of them with big baskets in front, and others with attached carts in the back.
"For your utility. These animals eat a lot." It would seem Herman, despite the gray hair sticking out of the flat cap her wore, had a friendly sense of humor. As they walked, his arm swung wide, meaning all of the land, and more specifically, the barns. "The enclosed places have more exotic individuals." There was some reverence in his voice, then. "And you will be outfitted with working clothes, a walkie set to the right frequency, and any number of keys you'll need." They reached a shed that looked modern, with its brushed steel and black fuse boxes and matte antennae. He opened the door on its well-oiled hinges. A control room with myriad screens inside. On the only wall not occupied with images from the cameras, blades of different lengths hung, sheathed and ready. "These are for you protection." he said after having gone through everything else. "The dogs will act as a line of defense as well, they are quite capable, but Jack doesn't like firearms." Though Herman did tap a metal box on the floor when he said it, suggesting that's exactly what it contained. There was no lock on it.
It was strange then, that he pointed at an old spear with more respect. It was a long weapon in a corner, and must be copper in part, since there were green details to its decay. Newer but by no means new, orange leather was wrapped around its middle, presumably for a better grip. "This, however, is for the piece de resistance." Herman said. He then nodded to the largest screen on the wall, which was split in four squares. The first one, with the most light, showed the entrance of a cave. If she had minded the look of the stone in the mountain, she could guess it was its closest rock root right behind the house. The mouth of it was lit by daylight now, but quickly turned abyssal. The other screens were various degrees of black, meaning they were inside the cave, but one of them clearly showed the shimmers of a body of water.
"Please be careful. Jack is a bit reckless about that one, when he should be really careful. You will be inspired to call it any number of names, but it's a He, and he is best categorized as a Truant. Though he will tell you what You may call him, I'm sure." Herman was both excited and sullen at telling her this. "Our Truant is temperamental to say the least, and will only be tolerable if one person goes in at a time. Some would say he is capricious. He'll go back on his own rules if it pleases him, and he has even Jack wound around his finger." Herman sighed as he plucked the spear and dragged it over, resting its dull end on the floor, tipping it for her to hold. "It's a heavy responsibility. And dangerous. But as you know, Jack pays well, so maybe you think it'll be worth it." He grinned. "Or maybe you're in it for the adventure?"
He then pointed at another screen, a small river between the treeline and the grounds. "It's particularly rich in fish. There is net for you, but we have our own fishing staff as well. The Truant's diet it disturbing. Try not to lose your courage over it." Herman sighed and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, which made his waist look even narrower. Now he resembled the boy he must have been, a long time ago. "Ah, well. There you go, lass. I would love to tell you every little detail, but Jack wants you to experience this place for yourself. There is staff all around to ask, but mostly we just want a friendly face for the animals here, so you'll be feeding and visiting them all, daily. Do it at your own pace, and make particularly good friends with the dogs, though they won't go into the grotto with you." he smiled again and left her in the shed, though his boots didn't trot all too hurriedly, if she should try to catch up and ask him anything. He wouldn't give much more than he already had. It was time for her to go explore.
The age of the Lonely Earth is gone.
The Universal Wars spread to the sun's Solar System, and in a scramble for superiority, and perhaps kinship, the United Centerling Planets folded earth into the Universal Society.
An invitation to the Universal politics is always an invitation to war. So far, the UCP have been protecting earth, and other uninitiated planets, most of them with Centerling habitats, and all of them with resources for Universal Conflict. Since the armed conflict has now spread to the Sun's Solar System, they folded earth in, and thereby recruited it. Humans, who are Centerlings stemming from earth, quickly rose in ranks because of human's sadistic and self-centered nature. Human's propensity for sacrifice for material gain was useful. Intelligent Savages.
And though Earth was part of, and in the way of, a large battle between UCP and the Natural Guard, it was not relevant for long. Earth would not stand by and let such great war be had without them. Humans are now ensconced in every facet of Universal Conflict.
The Universal Conflict is fought by clean weapons. Human's development and fondness of "lingering weapons" such as landmines and atomic bombs are part of why they were not included earlier, despite showing great aptitude for war. Humans have since proven themselves as excellent operators of Vials, which are the soldier form most UCP nations chose for the armed conflict. Though humans are good in the cockpit of Vials, they are not the best by default.
Centerling-grade life forms are ones that have a certain amount of intelligence and fit within a certain span of natural height. Anything above its physical perimeters (in its adult form) will first be labeled Large Centerling and then Natural Guard. The UCP have millennia old friction with the Natural Guard, who only wear armor upon their giant bodies, where Centerlings must enter Vials - war constructs that enable them to engage in battle with Natural Guard. Each side is policed by their own rules of engagement, a lot of them governed by some kind of moral or ethical counsel to keep illoyals from gaining state of the art weapons or political power.
Other fractions are Vial Operating Natural Guard, which are considered a rogue group from the Natural guard - and fought by both Centerlings and Natural Guard - and Armed Supplier Factions, which are races and nations who have been subdued or have contracts to be part of the supply line that make Universal Conflict possible on any side of the conflict. A notable SF race is an independent branch of the Natural Guard genome, which are known as the Lining Layer - though this more or less universally accepted name is deemed derogatory within the race itself - which is hunted and used to connect some of the bio-steerer pilots of the Centerlings to their Vials. Smaller races are known to use additional technology to operate Vials, and are known to have split alliances between UCP and Natural Guard.
SF planets are usually desired expansion territory of the conflict. While no longer categorically superior in armor, weaponry, or Vial design, all Universal Conflict weaponry stem from the planet Sebar in the Beinbar system. The Beinbar Sun has a green light compared to Earth's yellow sun, and its properties fortify elements on its orbital bodies. Both the energy exchange in the elements and the durability of the minerals are the hardiest that can be found, at a commercially minable scale.
Three planets are particularly notable within the Beinbar System.
Herexatt for minerals/ore.
Haufinbar for fuel elements.
Estedbar, (and its moons) the giant planet, where symbolic war and representing war is fought. A bit like a colosseum and arena, where war prowess translates to victories and ground gained in other facets of the Universal Conflict. Some of Estedbar's moons have religious relevance to either side of the Universal Conflict.
While Sebar is perhaps the most prolific in weapon and armor design, in part because Sebar has rich deposits of both minerals and fuel elements, it has become rather closed off, and while it is not neutral grounds, it is not inviting to any other member of the Universal Society either. The phenomenon has been called the Guilt, and is both religious and political in nature. It stems from the theory that the weaponsmiths on Sebar carry the weight of Universal Conflict on their shoulders, when they once wanted to set a standard for war that was both honorable and sustainable. Historically, the technology that the smiths supplied elevated most nations into the conflict, however, and the critics have posed that Universal Conflict might never have reached its current scale without the smiths. Innovation from other nations have also on occasion surpassed that of the smiths on Sebar, though such advances that stray into the territory of Lingering Weapons are always crushed with unforgiving prejudice by a group that is the only true and official collaboration between all nations in the Universal Society.
-
Hoooooookay.
I have set made some of the groundwork for us here. I am basically wanting a Mech story. Currently it comes off a bit political in nature, but we can chose whether we want that as center or in the back. I would KILL for some normal harem shenanigans though, so don't feel locked in to the grimdark. I WILL preface that I DO want things to be somewhat dark. If there is fluff, it needs to be ominous and foreboding and a bit off, or some breathing room before we get ready for more darkness.
I am extremely open to your suggestions on the universe, especially if it is for certain plotpoints we want to include, whether it be actual story direction or just fetishes we want in it. I don't want to have made a rigid mold where you don't have any creative freedom. Especially since character interaction and corruption is going to be the heart of this. It could be just a Vial pilot academy, or slave trade, or whatever. We don't need to - in fact I suggest we don't - pull at the strings of the entire world in our story.
I just want a pervy, fucked up mecha romp. If you'd be willing to play more than one character, that'd be grand, but you're not required to. I may or may not take on some DM role in this when required, but it won't be a CYOA of any sort for your character.
A forbidden tryst between a female teacher and the newest boy-wonder pilot, perhaps? Bitter enemies in conflict where one gets the upper hand finally? A slave-trade or trafficking story between races?
There HAS to be giant mecha fights, and if you sell it well, I can def imagine this as a mxm too.
This will take place in public threads with PMs as the discussion medium.
PLEASE pm me with your interest, ideas and questions.
The Universal Wars spread to the sun's Solar System, and in a scramble for superiority, and perhaps kinship, the United Centerling Planets folded earth into the Universal Society.
An invitation to the Universal politics is always an invitation to war. So far, the UCP have been protecting earth, and other uninitiated planets, most of them with Centerling habitats, and all of them with resources for Universal Conflict. Since the armed conflict has now spread to the Sun's Solar System, they folded earth in, and thereby recruited it. Humans, who are Centerlings stemming from earth, quickly rose in ranks because of human's sadistic and self-centered nature. Human's propensity for sacrifice for material gain was useful. Intelligent Savages.
And though Earth was part of, and in the way of, a large battle between UCP and the Natural Guard, it was not relevant for long. Earth would not stand by and let such great war be had without them. Humans are now ensconced in every facet of Universal Conflict.
The Universal Conflict is fought by clean weapons. Human's development and fondness of "lingering weapons" such as landmines and atomic bombs are part of why they were not included earlier, despite showing great aptitude for war. Humans have since proven themselves as excellent operators of Vials, which are the soldier form most UCP nations chose for the armed conflict. Though humans are good in the cockpit of Vials, they are not the best by default.
Centerling-grade life forms are ones that have a certain amount of intelligence and fit within a certain span of natural height. Anything above its physical perimeters (in its adult form) will first be labeled Large Centerling and then Natural Guard. The UCP have millennia old friction with the Natural Guard, who only wear armor upon their giant bodies, where Centerlings must enter Vials - war constructs that enable them to engage in battle with Natural Guard. Each side is policed by their own rules of engagement, a lot of them governed by some kind of moral or ethical counsel to keep illoyals from gaining state of the art weapons or political power.
Other fractions are Vial Operating Natural Guard, which are considered a rogue group from the Natural guard - and fought by both Centerlings and Natural Guard - and Armed Supplier Factions, which are races and nations who have been subdued or have contracts to be part of the supply line that make Universal Conflict possible on any side of the conflict. A notable SF race is an independent branch of the Natural Guard genome, which are known as the Lining Layer - though this more or less universally accepted name is deemed derogatory within the race itself - which is hunted and used to connect some of the bio-steerer pilots of the Centerlings to their Vials. Smaller races are known to use additional technology to operate Vials, and are known to have split alliances between UCP and Natural Guard.
SF planets are usually desired expansion territory of the conflict. While no longer categorically superior in armor, weaponry, or Vial design, all Universal Conflict weaponry stem from the planet Sebar in the Beinbar system. The Beinbar Sun has a green light compared to Earth's yellow sun, and its properties fortify elements on its orbital bodies. Both the energy exchange in the elements and the durability of the minerals are the hardiest that can be found, at a commercially minable scale.
Three planets are particularly notable within the Beinbar System.
Herexatt for minerals/ore.
Haufinbar for fuel elements.
Estedbar, (and its moons) the giant planet, where symbolic war and representing war is fought. A bit like a colosseum and arena, where war prowess translates to victories and ground gained in other facets of the Universal Conflict. Some of Estedbar's moons have religious relevance to either side of the Universal Conflict.
While Sebar is perhaps the most prolific in weapon and armor design, in part because Sebar has rich deposits of both minerals and fuel elements, it has become rather closed off, and while it is not neutral grounds, it is not inviting to any other member of the Universal Society either. The phenomenon has been called the Guilt, and is both religious and political in nature. It stems from the theory that the weaponsmiths on Sebar carry the weight of Universal Conflict on their shoulders, when they once wanted to set a standard for war that was both honorable and sustainable. Historically, the technology that the smiths supplied elevated most nations into the conflict, however, and the critics have posed that Universal Conflict might never have reached its current scale without the smiths. Innovation from other nations have also on occasion surpassed that of the smiths on Sebar, though such advances that stray into the territory of Lingering Weapons are always crushed with unforgiving prejudice by a group that is the only true and official collaboration between all nations in the Universal Society.
-
Hoooooookay.
I have set made some of the groundwork for us here. I am basically wanting a Mech story. Currently it comes off a bit political in nature, but we can chose whether we want that as center or in the back. I would KILL for some normal harem shenanigans though, so don't feel locked in to the grimdark. I WILL preface that I DO want things to be somewhat dark. If there is fluff, it needs to be ominous and foreboding and a bit off, or some breathing room before we get ready for more darkness.
I am extremely open to your suggestions on the universe, especially if it is for certain plotpoints we want to include, whether it be actual story direction or just fetishes we want in it. I don't want to have made a rigid mold where you don't have any creative freedom. Especially since character interaction and corruption is going to be the heart of this. It could be just a Vial pilot academy, or slave trade, or whatever. We don't need to - in fact I suggest we don't - pull at the strings of the entire world in our story.
I just want a pervy, fucked up mecha romp. If you'd be willing to play more than one character, that'd be grand, but you're not required to. I may or may not take on some DM role in this when required, but it won't be a CYOA of any sort for your character.
A forbidden tryst between a female teacher and the newest boy-wonder pilot, perhaps? Bitter enemies in conflict where one gets the upper hand finally? A slave-trade or trafficking story between races?
There HAS to be giant mecha fights, and if you sell it well, I can def imagine this as a mxm too.
This will take place in public threads with PMs as the discussion medium.
PLEASE pm me with your interest, ideas and questions.
Welcome to Colossal, the stuttering continent.
You are under West Moon.
Here rules The Sentient Economy, where only life brings life.
In a nutshell, West Moon is a rather industrialized fantasy inspired place, bordering on other countries of Colossal. Never mind the other countries, I may or may not delve into them later.
The aesthetics, which are most important to me, always, have mainly Victorian/Edwardian/tutors influences. But a lot of things are fueled by magic. Magicpunk, so to speak. Machinations and contraptions may be powered by magical elements, objects or spells. This should not be the focus, but could be fun in the peripheral.
The Sentient Economy relies on life to uphold life. Mostly, all that you use and build of, is made out of something that used to be living and sentient. Here whalers bring in fantastical beasts from the sea, whose bones would remind of wood. Any number of ingenious ways to harvest life off prey has been employed, and because of this practice, things that come from plants or are inherently inanimate, like rocks, are considered unworthy to be used. Instead of rock from the land, minerals drawn from mineral rich blood is preferred. There is an abundance of small critter that feed bigger critter and so on. All this said, the city Medfor that will be the center of our story, will just, as I said, look mostly like your inner picture of a fantasy, dark, Victorian city.
We will concentrate on a plot, or rather trend, in West Moon, where human beings, who are the ruling race of West Moon, have made a pastime and living off the blood of vampires. That's right, people are powerful enough to traffic in vampires. Or, rather, Unpires. Which is a vampire who was stunted on its way toward immortality, and now only retains some of its promised abilities. Relegated to the slums of Medfor, Unpires and Vampires are a low caste, though there is some ability there to rise in society.
Anyway, Unpire's blood have certain effects when ingested by humans, such as euphoria and rapture. In short, Unpire blood is the central ingredient in a lot of drugs. It is used in medicine and as recreation.
My character will be a human hunter. He will be hunting and come across your vampire and capture them, and do any number of things to stunt them, so that they may become an Unpire for him to sell as he pleases. Suppose the story will lean a bit grimdark.
There will be themes of bloodplay (though not always sexual) racism (though only of human vs fantasy races) and absolutely noncon and abhorrent violence and gore. Hopefully this will all be with a literary lilt. I cannot abstain from my poetry.
A lot of world building too. Some heavily sided politics that may or may not unfold as we play.
I am hoping for a dark relationship in which we also reflect the world, and make things up as we go along. I know you're thinking enemies to lovers here, but you'd be more correct in taking inspiration from, say, Stockholm or Lima syndrome. If you're the kind that can romanticize blood and quiet violence, we'd be a match. If you relish in your character's misery and can be generous with it, I'm your guy. If you can sew in age-old adversary and make misery beautiful, if not sexual, then I think we could get along splendidly!
Please PM me for questions if you're tickled!
You are under West Moon.
Here rules The Sentient Economy, where only life brings life.
In a nutshell, West Moon is a rather industrialized fantasy inspired place, bordering on other countries of Colossal. Never mind the other countries, I may or may not delve into them later.
The aesthetics, which are most important to me, always, have mainly Victorian/Edwardian/tutors influences. But a lot of things are fueled by magic. Magicpunk, so to speak. Machinations and contraptions may be powered by magical elements, objects or spells. This should not be the focus, but could be fun in the peripheral.
The Sentient Economy relies on life to uphold life. Mostly, all that you use and build of, is made out of something that used to be living and sentient. Here whalers bring in fantastical beasts from the sea, whose bones would remind of wood. Any number of ingenious ways to harvest life off prey has been employed, and because of this practice, things that come from plants or are inherently inanimate, like rocks, are considered unworthy to be used. Instead of rock from the land, minerals drawn from mineral rich blood is preferred. There is an abundance of small critter that feed bigger critter and so on. All this said, the city Medfor that will be the center of our story, will just, as I said, look mostly like your inner picture of a fantasy, dark, Victorian city.
We will concentrate on a plot, or rather trend, in West Moon, where human beings, who are the ruling race of West Moon, have made a pastime and living off the blood of vampires. That's right, people are powerful enough to traffic in vampires. Or, rather, Unpires. Which is a vampire who was stunted on its way toward immortality, and now only retains some of its promised abilities. Relegated to the slums of Medfor, Unpires and Vampires are a low caste, though there is some ability there to rise in society.
Anyway, Unpire's blood have certain effects when ingested by humans, such as euphoria and rapture. In short, Unpire blood is the central ingredient in a lot of drugs. It is used in medicine and as recreation.
My character will be a human hunter. He will be hunting and come across your vampire and capture them, and do any number of things to stunt them, so that they may become an Unpire for him to sell as he pleases. Suppose the story will lean a bit grimdark.
There will be themes of bloodplay (though not always sexual) racism (though only of human vs fantasy races) and absolutely noncon and abhorrent violence and gore. Hopefully this will all be with a literary lilt. I cannot abstain from my poetry.
A lot of world building too. Some heavily sided politics that may or may not unfold as we play.
I am hoping for a dark relationship in which we also reflect the world, and make things up as we go along. I know you're thinking enemies to lovers here, but you'd be more correct in taking inspiration from, say, Stockholm or Lima syndrome. If you're the kind that can romanticize blood and quiet violence, we'd be a match. If you relish in your character's misery and can be generous with it, I'm your guy. If you can sew in age-old adversary and make misery beautiful, if not sexual, then I think we could get along splendidly!
Please PM me for questions if you're tickled!
The form
Tall as any tree, Arber makes his kingdom among them too. His flesh is sometimes woven with bark, and sometimes grown with skin, oftentimes both. A mighty stag skull for his head with impossible antlers. Mostly molars for teeth.
He is an expression of nature's care for itself. Of growing, green things as a bridge toward animals. He is a conglomerate of plants and other life that desire to take care of the forest, but has since his birth been afflicted with the flaws and fancies of the flesh. It is a struggle for him.
The lore
In the towns and cities close to his forest, which branches of into younger forests too, gossip is rife with myths about King Verdant. They say he'll make maidens fruitful if they wish upon a lingonberry twig without pulling it off the bush. They say he'll rip travelers apart of they make new paths in his forest. They say people have gone mad with pleasure after encountering him. He has been worshipped by pagan cults and is also sometimes associated with spring oriented holidays and gods.
The truth
He is born of nature. And while he refers to it as Mother, there's no real proof he's anyone's son. An absentee matron nature remains. Without answers, Arber, has made his own truths. He is wise from the many years he's lived but like the season of sprouts and growth, he is also rambunctious and even reckless. He's had run ins with plenty of different creatures, some of them claiming to know of nature's spirit and will, but he has yet to find any concrete answers. It is a sore subject, but to him, it is the most important one too.
He has enemies that are also nature born.
The intimacy
Arber's body is an amalgamation of flesh turning into bark and wood and vice versa. Because of his male nature, he has seeding genitalia. The rod itself is twisted, and made from wood transitioning into flesh with a ridged head that looks like a long onion, and the slit is fibers in a circle. Those who have worshipped may have drank his seed. It's bitter like unripe berries but also rich and thick like dandelion blood. It has been called his piene.
When planted into an animal womb, his seed will eventually develop into fruit that will later be birthed. What fruit you bare is determined by your own genetics, or as Arber says, your qualities. When spread upon plants, his piene will make them more animal like, have them grow veins and skin. Legend has it there has been creatures created from his piene.
The stories
Arber is intended for storylines pertaining to nature themes, though very dark and pagan. He can be pitted against other gods or creatures. He has a pension for females. He is often at odds with himself, rejecting his animal nature, but it leads him to gorge himself on it occasionally.
He is what you'd call a moody ancient.
The form
Moul is a collection of scales that can expand and shrink. He favors two forms: dragon and man.
The lore
Speak think not of dragons, fear not of dragons, or the dragon will form. Maidens whose wombs are dragon touched will bare monsters. Give the dragon good flesh to ravage and good flesh to eat, liveth you another season.
There is a horizon from the dragon's maw.
The settlements around Moul's cave system have a habit of sacrificing curvy maidens to the cave mouths.
The truth
A lifeform that used to inhabit the walls of the cave system huddled together in the belly of the rocky rooms to stay cool during an oppressive summer. People talked of dragon fire. Their fear and delirium and maddened rituals were heard and receive onto the lifeform, and ushered in its new life cycle. It has taken the form of both man and dragon.
The energy in Moul can be expelled through a gland in its throat, and look alot like a laser, first a cone of light out it's mouth, and then focused into a relatively narrow beam.
Moul is confused within itself, because what a dragon is has always been conflicting. Moul's selfimage walks this tightrope.
The intimacy
Maul has a scales on his appendage, it is entirely covered by them when flaccid, but when aroused, it grows to be mostly flesh, as the scales do not multiply. He uses it on maidens, and as per his changing nature, it will adjust in size depending on his "partner" but it's smallest configuration is still what we humans would call a challenge.
The stories
Moul is intended on twists of the dragon myth. He will definitely fight heroes and ruin them. Would love to put both his full form but also his humanoid one up against a village/harem.
The form
A giant made from wolf parts. Usually a wolf torso with other limbs and appendages repeated upon themselves.
The lore
Once there was a wolfpack that angered the gods with their wolf-like traits, such as cunning, viciousness and bloodthirst. When they attacked a god child, and had their way with her, the gods had enough and melted the pack together, so they would see the error of their ways by being so intimately connected.
The truth
A magi of a cult dedicated to wolf worship once realized their scrolls were lying, that there was never a wild avatar, and that their prayers had just been sent out to be received by no one. In a fit of disappointment and rage the magi tried to create their very deity. And failed. Deflen is the result. Not entirely unlike Moul, Deflen struggles with who he is and ought to be. Especially his role to man.
The intimacy
Deflen's genitalia varies since he is usually in a state of change. Expect knots and multiple slits.
The stories
Deflen has a dog streak in him, since the magi was confused when conjuring him. He will interact with people but it is usually at a carnivorous capacity. He will do well against characters that have traces of archetypes usually put up against wolves in fables and fairy tales. Sometimes, because of the divided literature available to the magi, Deflen takes the cunning part of the fox. People have tried to worship him before. Those sacrifices are long gone and digested now.
Not all of these are necessary, of course.
Anal. Anal orgasms. YC preferring or finding out that they prefer anal. Squirting from anal. Sexual pain that turns into throbbing. Diversity. Mothers and aunts and older siblings. Unflattering depictions. Violence. Kisses that start reluctant that melt into submission. Gritty, unflattering details, framed in something pretty. Choking. Enraptured and pained facial expressions. Bad ends. Snuff. Women struggling with their emerging masochism. Stockholm syndrome. Screamers. Rape and non-con, whatever the distinction is. Cock-worship. Cheating/NTR. Gore. Pure things that meet with dirty things, and find a part of their soul yearns for it. Desecration of beloved tropes and pairings. Scat, waterplay. Forced and painful orgasms. Psychologically unsound reasons for masturbation and the emotional fallout after. Anal focus. Self harm brought on to yc by mc. Public bathrooms. Cum in eye. Tomboys discovering their femininity. Shaving. Loss of dominance. Female teachers. Pussy too shallow/small for cock. The mention and description of sexual things/body parts though the scene has nothing to do with it, like foreshadowing. Blackmail. Begging. Female eating male out. Gender and sexual ambiguity or discovery/change gone awry. Haughty women taught a lesson. Cuntboys. Racism.
Anal. Anal orgasms. YC preferring or finding out that they prefer anal. Squirting from anal. Sexual pain that turns into throbbing. Diversity. Mothers and aunts and older siblings. Unflattering depictions. Violence. Kisses that start reluctant that melt into submission. Gritty, unflattering details, framed in something pretty. Choking. Enraptured and pained facial expressions. Bad ends. Snuff. Women struggling with their emerging masochism. Stockholm syndrome. Screamers. Rape and non-con, whatever the distinction is. Cock-worship. Cheating/NTR. Gore. Pure things that meet with dirty things, and find a part of their soul yearns for it. Desecration of beloved tropes and pairings. Scat, waterplay. Forced and painful orgasms. Psychologically unsound reasons for masturbation and the emotional fallout after. Anal focus. Self harm brought on to yc by mc. Public bathrooms. Cum in eye. Tomboys discovering their femininity. Shaving. Loss of dominance. Female teachers. Pussy too shallow/small for cock. The mention and description of sexual things/body parts though the scene has nothing to do with it, like foreshadowing. Blackmail. Begging. Female eating male out. Gender and sexual ambiguity or discovery/change gone awry. Haughty women taught a lesson. Cuntboys. Racism.
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