- 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 -
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A x B's
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I will play any character in any pair, the purpose of this list is a pairing idea for us to create a basic plot together to follow;
- New Model x Famous Photographer
- Detective x Killer
- Singer x Fan
- Stripper x Bartender
- Lawyer x Criminal
- Prince x Nobel
- Ghost x Ghost Hunter
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Three Line Plots
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I'm willing to play any character in any plot;
-1-
Character A is a circus acrobat. Character B is a siren recently trapped and added to the show as an exhibit. Romance blooms in the unexpected toughness of a circus tent.
-2-
Character A is an infamous serial killer who hasn’t been caught. Character B is the victim who got away. Now both are obsessed with each other, in a game of cat and mouse as they try and catch each other.
-3-
Character A is a therapist. Character B is a patient who has begun stalking their therapist. Now, each meeting is a game of wits as Character A slowly begins to realize the danger they are in.
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Settings Of Interest
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- Dark fantasy
- 1950s small town
- Victorian haunted ghost house
- Haunted castle
- Trapped on a deserted island
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- 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌 -
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Honestly these are just like a list of favs,
- Attempted breeding
- Free-use
- Pet play
- Rope play
- Dubcon/Noncon
- Knife play
- Breathe control
- Corruption
- Priest kink
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I'm going to level with you here I haven't found something I dislike yet, other then like;
- Extreme inflation [think the type that the person looks like a balloon]
- Knee inflation
- Force feeding
- 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌 -
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They lived like shadows, drifting in and out of the crumbling ruins of ancient cities. Darting from one darkness to the next, cloaked in mud dyed cloaks of worn fabric. Faces hidden behind twisted metal masks made from the scraps. They were seen as bad omens to any and all who dared pass through the cities where they resided. Omens of death whispering in tongues from the shadowed corners where they seemed to become one with the emptiness. Those who passed through called them Prizrak.
People left gifts the night before they entered the cities for them in hopes that the Prizrak would allow them safe travel through. Those foolish enough not to, and ran into one of these hooded masked figures, often turned up not to far outside of the city. Their faces mutilated and twisted into fearsome expressions of unbearable pain, symbols of various natures carved through their skin. Warnings.
Phoenyx, was a Prizrak.
He let his body hang over the edge of a creaking makeshift railing which swayed and heaved under his body weight. Drifting from side to side as his fingers stretched out to dust across the edge of a metal cord hanging from the ceiling. The fall was to many stories to count down should the railing give way. But across from the seven foot wide hole there was his favourite vantage point. The railing creaked dangerously closer to toppling as his fingers finally caught their target. Yanking himself back with it in hand he let out a slow breath. Forcing the scrape safety measure to the side and putting a board across the distance.
He had done this hundreds of times since he was a child, yet the hair raising danger of it never seemed to leave him. He tested his weight on the board, listening for the cracking as a sign it would give way. Once he had found himself hanging by only the cord when his board slipped off and he had to swing until his feet could touch the edge. His hands had been bloodier than ever before cut from the sharp jagged bits of the cord.
And he wasn’t keen on repeating it, wrapping his hands in some of the cloth of the cloak he had on he stepped slowly onto the board sliding the railing back across behind himself before as quickly as possible rushing across to the other side.
The other side of the hole opened down to a wide room, cracked glass doors on either side wedged open. The third floor to ground level, he was able to stare down at anyone who dared cross his hide away. He had watched many people think they could sneak through here without leaving offerings to the Prizrak. Though, given it was only Phoenyx who managed to find a way over. They could. The young man hooked the cord on a crooked nail he had jammed into the metal with a rock to keep it close by, and him with an escape. Then he pulled the board back stowing it hidden on the other side. He wandered along the series of balconies, raising his hands to pull his hood down he pulled the mask he wore off his face. It was made of rust covered metal with two goggle like eye covers. The mouth gaped open, covered by fine white cloth and two large rebar pieces stuck from the top like ears.
Rabbit. That was what the others called, he was the fastest and most agile of his age group. The ones who watched over this section of the city. The entrance. The gift takers.
It was an important job, given that this city was the last destination you had to cross before getting to the desert before the City of Gold.
The older Prizrak liked to think themselves distant members of the city, protectors of sorts.
Pheonyx knew better. They were more similar to rats, picking off as much as they could from those venturing to the blood desert. Mainly slave traders.
Pheonyx hooked the mask onto the band of leather around his hip. He settled into the spot he usually, surrounded by piles of things he had collected or looted. Things dropped by those who crossed, things he stole if they tried to sleep inside the building. Some he hung on the walls, necklaces, knives, shackles, shiny things. Metal things. His prized possession being a ornately carved claw he had found stashed in someone's bag. That he ran his hands over and images would flood into his mind, torn flesh, an elegant beast, the wheezing breaths as it died.
With a huff, his dark bangs fell out of his eyes as he rifled through a bag he had snagged during the last set of people. He knew many didn’t notice till they were already gone. That made it fun..knowing no one would venture back to take his new found interests from him. Not risking the fate of mutilation.
It was a jarring sound that pulled Pheonyx from his focus on his sorting of his objects. The sound of voices arguing as they came into the building. It was one swift movement that he swiped the mask back up onto his face and his hood covering his hair. He dropped to his belly, the cloak he wore blended into the black marbled floors nearly seamlessly. The shadows of his hood preventing light from bouncing off the mask he wore as he inched closer to the edge of the walkway to see the people who had entered.
slave traders, he recognized immediately as his eyes focused in n the line of stumbling people in shackles. A group of four men and two women lead them into the building and he strained his ears to listen in on their conversation.
“This is a horrible idea! I can’t believe you ate the gift!” One of the men snapped at a lady which sat her luxury clad frame down onto a crate. “If they find us then I’m making sure they kill you first!”
“Stop your whining. I know a guy who travels through here multiple times.” She rolled her eyes, as she picked at the dirt under her hails in disgust. “I can’t wait to get to the city, I need a good bath. We can just think of this as a shortcut. One night here versus three on the main path through the ruins, Isn’t that a fair deal?”
Pheonyx nodded where he laid. It was quicker to exit this way, safer as well. Though finding your way in was difficult. Sliding across on his stomach he reached into one of the spilling bags. Fingers wrapping around a small reflective mirror and pulling it out to angle it in front of himself so he could watch the group without having to peer down at them and risk being seen. It had happened before. He wasn’t sure if it was a normal thing to enjoy watching other people. The Prizrak were known for hiding, known for watching. Though Pheonyx knew he watched for different reasons then others. He found himself curious. Intrigued. Rather than holding much malicious intent. He simply wanted to know more.
His reason for thievery was the same. The ever present curiosity that let his mind run wild. The desire to possess what others did. The desire to know more. Though he wasn’t sure why, he didn’t think it was particularly a bad idea. He let his chin rest on the back of his hand to cushion it against the chilled floor. Letting his eyes track the movements of the group. Listening to their bickering as he waited for night to fall. Spotting things he thought looked nice in the mirror, he felt himself slowly growing impatient.
By the time night had finally fallen, Pheonyx’s muscle had grown stiff and aching. Though it wasn’t until he was sure they were asleep he dared move. Forcing his tense muscles into action as they screamed against him. It was silently that he slid across to a collapsing part of the floor, with well practiced ease letting himself swing down with ease gained from years of practice from exposed supports wedged deep into the marble and concert. Landing with not so much as a tap in the corner of the first floor.
He slid between sleeping bodies and bags, snagging objects and putting them into the pocket on his hip. A small smile hidden behind the gaping white cloth mouth of his mask. Then it caught his eye, the soft glinting of moonlight. He slinked his way towards it mesmerised as he got closer.
It was a beautiful stone, one he had never seen before. It was polished and a smoothed oblong shape, glittering throwing off shades of deep blue and faint purples, sitting upon a crate. Had he not been so curious, he would have noticed that it was far too easy to spot. Had he not been so distracted he would have heard the soft sound of shifting from behind him.
Though, he was completely fascinated by the stone. Rolling its cool surface overs in his hands, holding it up to the moonlight watching as the colours shifted within in it. He ran a finger over the smoothed edge. When he noticed it, the small reflection in its surface. A face behind his own.
It happened quickly, he had barely turned around before the weighted end of board slammed into his temple. White hot pain slammed through his head, blurring his vision as the stone he admired fell from his hands and his thoughts drifted to nothingness with his sight.
-some time later-
Pheonyx had remembered opening his eyes only twice before now. Unable to see anything. He wondered if he had gone blind from being hit like he had been.
Just had to touch the pretty stone, He scolded himself, just had to go touch the obvious trap, because it was pretty and you’re stupid.
His wrists had a dull ache in them, though the bag over his head blocked his face. He could feel the heavy metal shackles around his wrists. He was sure the skin under the locks were rubbed raw. He could hear the people talking around him. Though the voices remained muffled. He had realised about an hour ago, when he has become fully conscious he was inside a crate. He had the hinkering feeling it had been the same one he had been lured too. His legs were bunched up around his chest, wrapped tightly in rope. Sweat dripped from his forehead from the heat, the layers under his cloak were keeping his far to warm. And he felt like he was going to pass out soon.
He wanted to call out and ask for aid. But his throat was still raw from screaming when he had realised he he had been taken and all he had ever gotten was a harsh kick to the side of his prison. Tears stained his cheeks with their leftover residue and he had long since stopped paying attention to what they were saying outside. Just hoping when he was finally able to move he would be able to find some way out of here.
He was startled from his thoughts when the crate dropped onto a hard floor. His eyes darted around in the darkness. Panic rose in his chest. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that he could no longer make out the voices of those speaking outside of the crate. He shifted, a knee slamming into the wood above him. Twisting. Trying to allow himself more space for him to wheeze in deep panicked breaths. The lid popped off and light drifted through the cloth bag over his head. He lifted his hands to cover his face. The metal around his wrists jingling as he did so.
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The pub was loud and the candle lights which hung every few feet on the wall threw off warm light that coated the bustling business floor. The long tables and benches were crowded with drunken off duty sailors, and barmaids skillfully weaved through the crowd to shouting men hands full of pints of ale, beer, and other such intoxicants with only the occasional drop or two sloshing over the sides of the large glasses when someone managed to nearly collide with them.
Alexei has always thought it looked more like a dance than a job at times, expert twirls and well practiced footfalls. His eyes followed one particular girl in her bouncing pattern through the floor, he wondered how long you had to do a job like this to dart that fast with that many cups.
Rutger had been prattling on for just over an hour now next to him about some hair brained scheme he'd come up with, something about an incoming cargo ship and a few missing candle stick holders. Alexei had no interest in whatever theft he was attempting to pull now and had tuned him out a half hour ago to watch the girls instead.
"We'll be rich!" The tall man slammed his palm on the table, startling the man asleep next to them awake who sat up suddenly with a hiccup and a burp, before stumbling towards the door and disappearing into the crowd.
"Sure we will." Alexei pulled his eyes from the crowd to look at Rutger. The man was easily 6'3", with a deep tan from working under the sun all day on the docks much like Alexei's own but a few shades lighter, he had a mess of white blonde curls that were poking out from under a bandana he had tied firmly enough around his head in an attempt to look tougher. Rutger didn't have a single tough bone in his body. Alexei assumed they'd all been accidentally replaced with sneaky bones, which somehow led Rutger to winding his big body into every sort of situations he shouldn't be in. "Just like how we were rich last time, and definitely didn't get caught with our hands quite literally in someone else's cookie jar."
"I could've have swore there was a gold necklace in there, I saw it with my own two eyes."
"And I coulda have lost a hand."
"You'd have been fine with one hand."
"The answer is still no."
Rutger let out a defeated huff. Alexei rolled his eyes and glanced down at his cup and the wobbling reflection in the amber colour of his beer. His tan was a few shades deeper than Rutgers, a sign which pointed to the origins of his mother. She'd been from some nomadic tribe in the grasslands, and given him her warm wheat coloured skin and thick black hair which swept across his forehead and the back of his neck in overgrown waves. His dad had made him a man of mostly sharp edges. Sharp shoulders, a tall sharp nose, sharp hollows of his collarbones, and sharp high cheekbones, he was made of almost exclusively harsh edges. The only not harsh part of him was his eyes, wide and round, at times he'd felt they looked out of place on his face. Pools large of hazel, surrounded by long dark lashes, and a small scar just under his left one. He knocked back his drink leaning back in his seat and grimacing. He needed to drink more before studying his face in his glass became a habit.
"Get me another eh?" He patted Rutger on the back who snorted at him in disbelief at the sheer audacity of his request after denying him assistance with his master candlestick heist.
"Only 'cause I also need another." Rutger grabbed the glasses from the table and rose to his feet.
"Only because you owe me for almost losing me a hand." Alexei shot back and Rutger snorted, cracking a half smile before he too was swallowed by the crowd as he shouldered his way to the bar.
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