Topic: Keith's Musings

[Keith]

Greetings and salutations.

If my ideas grab your attention I ask that you at least scan through my Particulars and that if they don't you are free to drop a story idea into my PM box.

My interests run from Light to Extreme with a decent chunk of my threads being in NC. I'm open to modifications or entirely separate ideas, although I can only say that I will listen, my muse and interest will determine if I pick them up. If my ideas seem vague it is because they are ideas that popped into my head and seemed interesting, I'm looking for a partner to expand upon or modify the ideas to fit our collective liking.

If I've caught your interest please send a Private Message.

Stranded On The Island

How they got there was unimportant when weighed against their survival. They couldn't afford to wonder long how they became trapped on the island, wonder how they survived long enough to wash ashore, and there was no way to tell where they were. The best they could do was search the water and shores vainly for other people or luggage, only to find they have nothing but the clothes on their backs and nothing else. Only one of them knew how to survive in such an absurd situation, but the stress of being responsible for so many lives single-handedly is exhausting.

How long would he put up with providing, and who is he providing for?

What's stopping him from simply going off on his own and leaving the other(s) to fend for themselves?

This idea is vague because I can envision a lot of different scenarios. I prefer the pairing(s) to be antagonistic at the start. A lot of fear and uncertainty to make everyone tense and angry. Perhaps they knew each other before whatever accident led them to be stranded and they hate each other. Or maybe it's a more taboo group that has been washed ashore and as the stress becomes too much to bear and they are completely cut off from civilization what once sounded crazy suddenly had some appeal.

[Keith]

Teenager

Adult

βrandon was born under very unique circumstances. Imagine a child within its mother's belly able to understand that she regretted her pregnancy, that she cursed him every time he caused her morning sickness, or when his father's eyes lingered overly long on women they passed on walks. Tone and emotion were something he understood the moment he became aware of his existence, attaching words to those things had taken him weeks, and he felt terrible knowing the pain he was causing to the woman he instinctively loved as his birth giver.

When he was born he cried only once. Even drugged and nearly passing out from a long miserable birthing she still had enough bitterness to hate the sound of his cry. Gurgled whimpers and a slight cringe was the first sight either of his parents saw on his freshly cleaned face. Gradually he was aware that the nurses that cared for him, not a lot just two in fact, were the only ones with positive emotions toward him. His parents, the doctor, and support staff were all just exhausted, but the two nurses that looked over the first hours after worrying births looked after him carefully, one of them even did something he would later understand as praying for him.

Going home with his parents was not a happy time, but his personality was still forming, along with his vocal cords, so he spent much of his time drifting in and out of awareness for the first three years of his life. He would cry only as much as necessary to make his parents aware, worried he would anger his mother who preferred to spend as much time as possible behaving as though she hadn't given birth, drinking wine, talking on the phone, forgetting that he was in the house.

At age three he had developed enough that he started talking, but the sounds he made never sounded right, too bubbly and gurgled, and his voice grated on his mother's ears. So he spoke alone, practiced in his room to try and make a more pleasant sound. For a very short period of time that made his family happy, they were amazed and proud of him speaking so well, not questioning how he had learned to speak so well so abruptly. That lasted for a week before he asked why his father kept touching his secretary between her legs, his voice innocent and confused.

That incident had ended with his mother slapping him, calling him a liar, dragging him off to his room, and locking him in it for a week. That scene and punishment kept repeating itself like his little family was trapped in the belly of an Ouroboros. Each time it occurred he spoke less, reacted less each time he heard their thoughts, but it was far too late. His mother was convinced he was an evil existence, used his strangeness to further convince herself that she had never given birth to him after all, and saw each attempt he made at getting closer to her or trying as a lead up to some sort of attack. His father kept as far away from him as reasonably possible to hide his secrets. It was no surprise when one day he simply never returned home.

There was strange darkness about his mother at that time. His mere presence caused her considerable stress and he couldn't bring himself to make so much as the smallest noises in her presence. It only took a week of his father being gone for her to finally snap. It was nothing a normal child would have been able to defend against because no child would think to question his mother's home cooked food. Knowing it was poisoned, and feeling the glee she felt as her "freedom" loomed only a few bites away, he quickly realized that he had to leave.

That night he had got up from the dinner table, dressed in his warmest clothes, walked out the door, and never saw his mother again. Knowing nowhere to go he swiftly found himself pulled into the lifestyle of the homeless. Begging was not effective, the first time he tried at the urging of a very confused old man he had been reported to the police. Normally that would be for the best, but the one who called the police was only interested in a reward, and he was convinced both he and his mother would be better off if he stayed "lost".

Travel became normal as staying in one place always invited more danger. The streets weren't safe for the aged homeless who had lost their jobs or were mentally ill and had fallen through the cracks, and for a child, it was worse. He could go to no one for help, and he could help no one. It was then that he truly began to know the concept of death.

The first time he felt it was deep in the night, the sensation of fear so palpable that it lingered in the alley he slept in like an oily fog. His mind sought out that fear out of desperation, if for no other reasons than to know which direction to run from. He slipped into the mind of a young woman as she lay dying, felt her confusion and fear so strongly that he stopped breathing. As she neared death a black void seemed to open in her mind and swallow her, the sensation of nothingness that swallowed her felt like the gaping maw of a monster. It so terrifying that he thought he had passed out on the spot. The next day he went to a pay phone. He called the police, reported her death in a shaking voice, dropped the receiver, and walked onto a bus heading out of town.

As he grew to learn to defend himself became his top priority. He was no longer able to rely on looking defenseless or slipping unnoticed where he needed to find food or shelter. Teenagers running away from home, young gang members, the more unruly homeless, they were starting to compete with him for resources. After several beatings, he started to learn how to defend himself. The first thing he learned was how not to be swallowed up by the desperation or hate of those attacking him and stay calm so he could read what they would do. Next he learned where to hit to make it stop, able to sense how much pain he inflicted, and which strikes cut off a person's conscious mind. However, the most important thing he learned was how long he could stay in one place before the grudges became quests for bloody vengeance.

Frequently he would have to fight people bigger than him as they sought what petty cash and small stashes of food he managed to gather. Each time he did rumors would start, and then the low-level gangsters always wound up taking an interest. You can only lay that kind of guy once or twice before they go to their big brothers, say they got jumped by some punk, and the whole crew decides it's a matter of saving face before rival gangs got wind of it. The first time he sensed the mind of a gang banger carries a gun to his hideaway he knew that he couldn't stay in any place long.

That darkness inevitably seemed to chase after him again and again. No matter where he went he couldn't seem to escape from the ouroboros.

Despite how much trouble and darkness he slogged through growing up he reached what society considered adulthood, or near enough as he hadn't been keeping track of his age for some time. Against all odds he had reached the point where he could start taking actual jobs, and had suppressed himself to the point that he no longer showed any outward signs that he could hear peoples thoughts, no longer faltered when he felt death swallow someone whole, but in the process of that he had lost a lot. In suppressing outward signs of what he heard he also crushed all natural expressions.

Trouble still arouse frequently so he jumped jobs often, always before people started asking too many questions about him. All the same being old enough to hold a job meant it was getting significantly easier to live. The darker element he lived near troubled him occasionally, but he had gotten good at avoiding, capitulating, or putting down any trouble he stumbled into. He had finally reached a lifestyle he would classify as comfortable. He managed to scrape together enough money for a tiny dingy apartment, ate twice a day, and started reading as much as he could between his random and widely assorted jobs after picking up a library card off the curb. It was in that comfort he became aware of how alone and empty his life felt, and that realization threatened to crush him.

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Been a while and I never did play this character as much as I would have liked. If you find yourself interested in this character I invite you to read through the following thread, which unfortunately faded off.

Moonlit Telepath

The basics of the story are simple. A sort-of-wolf is compelled to find βrandon, only he is continually on the run, always on the outskirts society, usually in bad sections of cities. When she finally finds him he has to run soon after, having experienced a snapshot of his life.

Time

This was another play on the same idea. There was a compulsion that she felt for years, decades or hundreds it was left vague, a nagging desire to seek something out. He stumbled his way into her world accidentally, fleeing another inevitable trouble that always cropped up around him. I'll leave the rest for you to read if you are so inclined, as it's brief.

A lot of world-building went on behind the scenes and the story was set up for some good distance. The characters meshed well and it surprised me how Brandon changed to this particular characters unique presence and demeanor. It's a much shorter read but felt rich and engrossing to me.

From all the angles I've looked at the one that fits Brandon the most is the soulmate route, one with a compulsion of some sort involved. The reasoning is because I've attempted writing him with a partner who was mundane and there was simply not enough to quickly bind him to someone else when trouble would crop up. He tends to move around, in vast distances, a lot. A soulmate that seeks him out and somehow tracks him down, or stumbles on him, that is compelled to stick with him is necessary to begin things.

As I've said, there are other paths I've toyed with, but unless someone has that kind of compulsion to stick with him I don't see him sticking in one place long enough to form a romance. I am willing to hear other ideas, of course, just don't be offended if I can't picture it working.

The only path I haven't attempted is him growing older, even more jaded than when he was young. Given that much time, the wear and tear on his psyche, I could see him going a darker route. Perhaps he becomes obsessed with the idea of possessing someone, engraving himself in their mind, set things up in such a way that her every thought revolves around the two of them. This would likely going more Stockholm Syndrome and would undoubtedly begin as NC, he would be very domineering and controlling. Once he attains what he wants I suspect more of his softer, empathetic tendencies would resurface, while maintaining his dominance for fear of his partner leaving him.

If this, or a better idea you come up with, tickles your fancy please send me a PM.

[Keith]

Otherworldly Summoning

Darrell Ó Coileáin appeared to be a normal guy, with not especially outstanding about him. His looks were slightly below average, with an above average physique, a decent head on his shoulders, and a noticeable Irish accent that he just couldn't kick. Accent aside there was nothing outstanding or remarkable about him until he went to the mall to pick out some clothes.

For some reason just stepping into the two-story building gave him a chill. It didn't matter how many people he passed, or how noisy the crowd was, something just felt distinctive off. A sudden blue glow snapped to life with an audible hiss and he looked down, seeing strangle lines shifting and morphing into odd unfamiliar shapes under his foot, and his life was changed forever. The summoning magic not only steals people from other realities, in the transfer of existence power is granted to them by benevolent beings between worlds seeking to compensate those stolen from their previous lives.

[Scenario #1] The magical circle under his feet yanks him violently out of his reality and he is tossed into a high fantasy world by one of its great powers, seeking a hero to save them from some great plight. This will be a flexible idea. He could be sought genuinely for his help, or he could find himself under the authority of a manipulative or tyrannical power that intends to use him for entirely self-centered reasons. If he sees through the schemes or goes along with them naively is up to us to decide.

[Scenario #2 The magic symbol is far larger than the previous scenario, and dozens of people are caught up in it. At the outer edge, he is affected by it, but at the last second, he steps away, rejecting the forceful summoning while still gaining something from it. The only one who knows anything about the sudden abduction of a massive amount of people he is put under considerable scrutiny, but with no evidence, he is deemed a victim and released to his everyday life, with the added benefit of power unheard of in his world.

First Post

Darrell Ó Coileáin was a fairly normal young man with nothing especially outstanding about him. His looks would be considered about average, dark brown eyes, brown hair, well proportioned and masculine face that wasn't good or bad enough to make him stand out His physique was a little above average as years of sports had kept him in good shape. Reasonably good at studying he was told he had a good head on his shoulders. The only thing that stuck out about him at all was the noticeable Irish accent that he just couldn't help coloring his words. Accent aside there was nothing outstanding or remarkable about him until he went to the mall.

He had driven his parent's spare car and had to park all the way in the outermost parking spot. Completing the average image of he was wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and sturdy looking shoes. The mall, he noted, was absolutely packed to the brim with people. The only spot available felt like a mile from the large glass doors. Not wanting to waste time he jogged tot he entrance and was just starting to warm up when he reached the door.

A chill washed over him as the glass doors slid open. For a moment he thought it was the AC hitting him but once he stepped inside it didn't feel particularly cold. Unable to pinpoint the cause for the phenomenon he dismissed it with a shrug and started shopping. He had been recruited onto the practice squad for the Bears, his college baseball team, and felt motivated to get some of his own gear. Going through the sporting goods he tried out a few gloves and settled on mat black Louisville Slugger.

After the boredom of waiting in line, he paid for both items and stuffed the receipt into his pocket. On his way back out of the mall, he stopped in the bathroom, wanting to splash some water on his face. He still felt a tingling tension at the back of his neck, the unpleasant tension of something fundamentally wrong was about to happen. The second the bathroom door swung closed the lights dimmed and he froze in place.

A sudden blue glow snapped to life with an audible hiss and he looked down, seeing strangle lines shifting and morphing into odd unfamiliar shapes under his foot. The lines pulsed up toward him he blinked his eyes, trying to regain his sight as darkness swallowed him. Adrenaline surged through him as he found himself falling, his flailing arms finding nothing to catch himself on he simply tumbled helplessly through the void.

Sharp pain speared through both of his shoulders and his legs snapped straight suddenly as a massive something caught him by the shoulders and stopped his decent in a violent jerk. A hoarse scream tore out of him as massive talons dug into him, piercing muscle and hooking under bone to ensure he was properly caught. His sense of time distorted as the pain consumed his every thought, his blood slick hands prying weakly at the smooth talons until he was abruptly released. All at once light returned and he crashed face-first into the most peaceful looking field he had ever seen outside of museum art and internet pictures.

Clutching at his shoulders he rolled onto his back and stared up the bright blue sky. Even though the pain he was grateful to see it as it offered a small sense of normality. "Ah recall askin' ye to be gentle." A charming female voice called out in complaint, growing louder with each word as she approached. A woman with dark red hair and soft green eyes leaned over him, mild concern creasing her brow. "Don't ye worry none," She urged as she crouched down, tapping him lightly on the forehead with a dainty fingertip. Warmth rolled through his whole body and the pain vanished within moments.

Darrel popped up off the grass and stood, his eyes sweeping the scenery. A large grove of trees surrounded the large picturesque field, but apart from the woman and an impossibly large raven, there were no distinguishing features to hint at his location. "Where, am I?" He asked, wiping his bloody hands off on the once white shirt before he prodded at his shoulders, finding only smooth skin where once there were ragged holes. The answer came from the raven that was just abruptly not. The giant shiny black feather bird shrank into the figure of a naked woman with black hair that seemed to absorb sunlight. "Tír na nÓg," The once-crow's voice was sharp and cold, her expression distinctly put-off.

"I'm in... Irish heaven?" He just couldn't keep up with any of these, too much weird shit hitting him at once. "Feck, I'm dead aren't I." Then his eyes snapped to the black-haired woman as a bone-chilling thought came to him. "Oh shite, yer The Morrigan." His grandfather was the only one in the family who held to the old religion, but he had made two very firm points that stuck with him. One was that the Tuatha Dé Danann, the old gods, were mostly alright but to make no deals from their fairy servants. Second, and most importantly, was to not insult The Morrigan.

"Don't you worry, the rough landing was by necessity." The redhead walked toward him and lined herself up with Morrigan. "I'm Brigid, and I'm sorry we had to meet like this young Ó Coileáin." It was strange to hear his name pronounced perfectly, years of listening to people butcher it felt worth it to have her speak it so smoothly.

"Thank ye, thank ye both!" He hurriedly shot out thanks, just because he didn't want to have either of them angry at him.

"Your fate has been severed, Ó Coileáin. You have been stolen from me. I am greatly displeased." The Morrigan's eyes burned with rage, wisps of dark smoke licked off her nude figure, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"I know she can be frightenin' but she's angry for ye, not at ye. We did not call ye here, yer not dead, someone has rather literally stolen ye." Brigid supplied and he found he could breath again as her warm aura counteracted the dark wisps of smoke.

"How can I be stolen, I'm standing right here." The weight of the situation was still stifling him but for the moment he felt safe, right up until it sounded as though he would be snatched away again. It was more frightening than death when those two were standing an arm's length away, their presence at once intimidating and deeply comforting.

"I am delaying yer theft, sadly, it cannot be stopped." Seemingly calming her anger after it frightened him Morrigan was no longer utterly terrifying, but her mere presence was still intimidating. "This will not go unanswered. I will teach ye how to punish the thieves in my place."

"An' I'll teach ye how to keep all yer bits together while doin' it." Brigid said with a bright smile, a smile that teased him for centuries.

Darrell Ó Coileáin woke to the sound of gasps, his steel blue eyes blearily scanning his surroundings. Cloaked figures encircled him as he sat with his back against the skill of a massive deer, it's bleached white bones and antlers jutting dangerously behind him. Underneath him was soft sand that shifted quietly as his legs stretched out, a roaring yawn rolling out of him. Spots of red gradually formed in the sand and the scent of blood drifted up to his nose. "That was thoughtful of you." He complimented a figure in his imagination, the visage giving off a dark protective presence. Though he wanted to search for the figures name in his muddled memory he had no time.

"What is this? He is no demon, what went wrong?" A voice cried out angrily while Darrel looked up. He was in a large cave with an opening directly overhead, letting in a shaft of light that didn't reach the edge of the sand. Panic swept through the cloaked figures as he stood, dusting sand off jeans that had faded from blue to white. He felt no discrepancy with the change, something about it just made sense. Reaching behind him he picked up the Louisville Slugger he remembered just purchasing and gripped it tightly.

"Demon or not it should still obey us, command it to reveal it's power so we can view it's worth!" The man nearest him shouted this out, spittle flew from his lips in his crazed efforts to control the small group that was quickly losing control of itself.  "Kind of pointless considering what comes next though." He commented to himself as he stepped off the sand, his bare feet scrapped by the cave's rough floor. One of them was shouting out a command like there was an unruly dog nearby, but it was hard to make out through the vicious crack that rang out as his bat smashed the skull of the nearest thief.

"You stole me!" Darrel's voice ripped from his throat viciously, his eyes wide and insane with rage he barely even remembered the reason for. Centuries of daily training, bloodthirsty ancient combat beat into him until it was ingrained in his bones, and every time he thought to give up he heard a voice reminding him, "They stole you from me!" His bat was pristine when he had lifted it off the sand, but half a dozen pained screams and vicious cracks had turned it into a gory mess. It hadn't mattered what knives they brandished, or the projectiles that hissed toward him, he beat them down one by one without mercy, giving up flesh to crush bone.


The cave system he was brought to was smaller then he expected, little more than one downward tunnel that ended in the larger section where the ceiling had been dug out for sunlight. A series of holes had been dug into the natural tunnel and in each was a bed, a few provisions, and water. It seemed the people he dubbed thieves had their own little den. Searching for useful supplies he snatched up some food and flasks of water, carrying them in his shirt until he reached the last room. By far the largest and with the most provisions.

Finding the only things worth taking he gathered everything on the floor. A dozen dried fruits, four hard bread, two wine-skins, two flasks of water, and a long dark red robe that would cover up the blood on his white clothes. Looking around for something to carry it with he found a rugged leather satchel. He was surprised to find that the satchel didn't just carry some of what he had taken, he stuffed it all in with room to spare. Other than growing heavy there seemed to be no outward change. Out of curiosity, he shoved the bat inside and it miraculously vanished into it.

Darrel found it strange that he didn't question the phenomenon. He simply slung the satchel over his shoulder and trekked out of the cave wearing a dead thieves red robes. A long walk winding through the woods ahead of him he considered how he had reacted to everything so simply. He woke up and instinctively knew the people who surrounded him needed to die and had acted on it. He felt no guilt, none of that gut-wrenching nausea that he heard about when it came to taking a life. Images of a thousand battles flickered through his mind and gradually an image formed. Words repeated over and over again rose to the surface. He had been stolen, he would be given skills to punish and survive.

"I have plenty of time." He convinced himself, smiling at the sight of civilization ahead. Exiting the thick threes grove of trees he was greeted by large Gothic stone walls and a large dirt road that leads to it. I'm really going to miss music. Heaving a sigh he jogged out onto the road and kept going until he was stopped just outside the gate. A large imposing soldier stood with one hand on his weapon and the other jutting out in the universal stop sign, weary tension clear in his every movement. "Halt cultist, you're kind aren't welcome here!

"This just ain't my day." He sighed, shoulders slumping, the satchel sliding toward the ground.

[Keith]

Esper's Troubles

Romeo Achthoven had a great many problems growing up. Born as an esper. That was the name he settled on, but it could also be labeled as psychic, or telekinetic, PK, there were a few names people had come up with for the imaginary powers of the mind. The problem being, he actually had such inexplicable powers. The ones that gave him the most trouble were easily telepathy, the ability to read minds, and what he lazily dubbed x-ray vision at a young age. It had taken him a considerable amount of time and effort to shut off these abilities, and it was only when he discovered that layers helped return his sight to normal that he started behaving at all like a normal man.

Just imagine having to focus during a test if everyone around you was thinking the answers, or dirty jokes, or about sex while you were trying to concentrate. The ability he hated the most was his x-ray vision. It had started off well enough when he was in puberty, allowing him the enviable ability to see through clothes. The power eventually grew stronger, and he had to desperately seek a way to shut it off when it had grown so potent that he skipped clothes and went straight to muscles and organs.

Popularity and friends were forever out of reach. Those that approached him with an ulterior motive were seen through in an instant. Those with genuine intentions of befriending a kid who seemed to be alone all the time were met with a repulsed face, it was hard to make friends with a walking organ diagram right? He could barely keep names straight.

Nearing the end of high school he was finally under control or had found countermeasures, but his reputation was long past redeemable.

Looking for someone to play the opposite of Romeo after he has gained control of his power. This could stay light or go to a more desperate and dark path depending on the taste of those interested.

[Keith]

Supernatural: Hunters

As the world keeps grinding ever forward the majority of the world troubled only with keeping their families fed and happy, ignorant that they should still be afraid of the dark. Monsters, magic, demons, angels, all of them are real. The mundane police force cleans up after the mess unwittingly, filing victims off as missing, searching for killers they can never find. There are sometimes survivors, someone who was overlooked, perhaps barely survived their injuries, or found their loved ones killed in a strange inexplicable way, and sometimes they are consumed with the need for revenge.

• Born and raised a hunter a woman does her best to retire, running away from her family she got herself an ordinary job, found a boyfriend to love, and was happy. Only hunters never retire, something always goes bump in the night, and an old threat has tracked her down. Not only has a supernatural threat emerged, decimating her retirement, but her boyfriend was also dragged into the fight.
• Hunters never travel in packs for long. Unless a large threat has been found hunters like to travel alone with the rare exception for siblings, couples, and people who have grown weary of hacking their way through monsters by themselves.

I'm open to many scenarios but I would like to say I would prefer writing original characters rather than anything canon. I wouldn't mind taking character archetypes and using them, but I'm always more comfortable writing my own characters rather than something already established.

[Keith]

Best Friends

^{This request is currently retired. I have played multiple versions and the idea is feeling a little stale.}

Friends from birth is a rare thing, but less so when their parents live in the same neighborhood and both got pregnant within a few months of each other. Their parents got very close during the course of pregnancy and after they were born they became easy friends. They grew swiftly and stayed close. Even when they hit puberty they didn't drift apart as gender gaps started to form between their other friends, but how long would that last?

[Scenario #1] The girl has dated other guys despite being unusually close to her best friend, and every time something bad happens she is comforted by him. Never realizing that the foundation for her mental well being and joy stems from his wisdom and strength until it's casually mentioned by his mother that he's going to leave for a week to tour college campuses, the longest stretch of time she's ever really been unable to see or speak to him.

[Scenario #2] The girl has dated numerous guys, usually getting in trouble because of their bad influence, and every time he would be sent out by her parents to bring her home. It wasn't a task he disliked, and he was good at it, but every time he found her in worse trouble, and the guys she dated kept being the worst type. He could see the pattern was leading her to a dismal future.

These are just two paths it could take, but I'm looking to play a protective and dominant presence. I've played with the idea once before and I enjoyed it. They were naturally close, cuddled frequently, their parents were comfortable with them being alone together even in high school. Finally, she picked the worst guy possible who used her highly sexual nature against her, injected her with drugs, and shared her with a bunch of sadistic punks for a weekend. He went looking for her two days into that and dealt with it. I liked the idea and would like to do something like that again, but that and the above scenarios are on the table.

[Keith]

The One Hundred

It's been one hundred years since the nuclear apocalypse devastated the earth. The only "known" remnants of humanity spent their entire lives on a space station, where the best and brightest fled and bred. The second generation did not share their education or lofty goals. Resources dwindle as the station slowly breaks down. A desperate plan has been put into place. One hundred of the stations juvenile delinquents are to be sent to earth, some stay as scouts, others say as guinea pigs. Is the planet livable? They can only discover this by sending people down. What dangers aside from radiation could they face?

Upon landing the group discovers that the earth has been transformed into a place far more savage and brutal then their parent's fairy tales had led them to believe. Mutated animals, vicious wildlife that no longer feared humanity, harsh climate, and what if there is something worse then all that?

The people sent down were all minor criminals. The angry, disenfranchised, thieves, general trouble markers, they are what make up the community they can depend on to keep them alive, but who can lead such a group and how?

[Keith]

Parallel Worlds

A mysterious and decrepit looking building, no different than the others that went unused due to a shift in the economy. A building that looked as though it had stood up to the nuclear blast better than the others, spawning horror stories for miles around and superstition that it was a den of supernatural evil. An odd and unnatural structure that no one had seen the likes of in their lives, the locals thinking it was a sign that the gods had descended to visit miracles or horrors upon them. The structure looks different depending on its surroundings but it is always mostly intact, looks abandoned, and is filled to the brim with incomprehensible graffiti.

[Scenario #1] A survivor of the nuclear apocalypse takes shelter for the night in the most structurally sound looking building around. He has lived with small groups, traveled through trading posts that survived by theft and brutality, and was finally surviving on his own. He fought and evaded marauders, bandits, the feral, the evil of the world going through a dark age. He woke to the sounds of horns and thought for a long time he was hallucinating. Running from the building, thinking something inside was affecting his mind, only to find he was in the midst of a city that was untouched by the bomb, the EMP and the fallout that followed ensured the country ended. No ID, no money, no idea if he was going to be pulled back, he did what came naturally to him. He stole food, ammunition, and on his way back to the building that had brought him to the treasure trove he also took an unwilling companion.

[Scenario #2] They had just been drinking and were heading home when they spotted the odd building, and a series of dares lead to them entering the building. Inside was weird graffiti, scents they couldn't identify, paper with equally odd messages strewn around. The building began shaking like there was an earthquake and those dared ran out as fast as possible, but when they burst through the doors the sights and sounds were entirely alien. The landscape was covered in moss, trees, heavy uncut grass, vines snaked in and out of windows, and a stiff wind howling its way through the suddenly aged buildings was the only sound. Where were they, and would they ever get back?

This is open to a lot of different angles, but I expect that nice places are going to be rare, with adventure, dangers, and the fight for survival. How will they survive, what will they have to do to stay fed, who will they interact with, will they see people they recognize? In a universe where travel between dimensions seems to be as simple as stepping into the wrong building anything is possible, but it usually gravitates toward worlds with a great number of similarities. Start in an apocalypse and one will likely happen soon. Paranoia is healthy when there is no guarantee the building will return to shelter you from a nuclear bomb or a zombie outbreak.

I have played this scenario twice and unfortunately, both are on hiatus. I will link them bellow with a brief synopsis.
Between Worlds: A pair of college students went out drinking with friends and acquaintances. The pair had only know spent a little time together, a psych project their freshmen year, and the girl was not comfortable with him. Unfortunately, after seeing their inebriated friends off they discovered there were no more rides to be had. He offered to walk her back to campus and she reluctantly agreed, leading them to be swept off to another world.

The story had heavy themes of sexuality and humiliation and was going to continue with those themes. Each world they went to saw societal norms being significantly different from the world they left.
Cycling Chaos: This story followed the outline of the first scenario. A man who had survived apocalyptic conditions had found shelter in one of the few sturdy buildings in a sea of collapsed skyscrapers in a barren wasteland. When he discovered that the area outside the tower had drastically changed he searched for supplies he could make use of to survive. He found that despite having one of the most advanced pieces of technology he'd ever heard of the society was small and shrinking, he would not stay.

In the process of stocking up the tower, he found a unique lifeform, who he later discovered developed the amazing technology, and kidnapped her. They quickly developed a rapport and were in the process of surviving their second world, a nuclear ice age, when the story entered hiatus.

This story mechanic opens up a lot of possibilities, adventurous and tantalizing, horrifying and beautiful. If any of this inspired you feel free to send a PM.

[Keith]

Last Resort for Repressed Needs
A Roleplay of Mistaken Identity, Dub-con, Pregnancy Scare, and Incest.

Her husband's sex drive shrank year by year, making her increasingly empty in a marriage that left her alone at home for the vast majority of her day and it was leaving her desperate and unsatisfied. The problem was exasperated by her son barely talking to her as he seemed to be struggling with something at school.

She was worried that her husband stopped making love to her because she let herself go, he was always uncomfortable talking about sex and preferred just to get to it so she received very little feedback, so she increased her workouts considerably before working up the courage to propose a deal to her husband.

Every night at seven o'clock she would go to bed in lingerie or naked, blindfolded, or even self-bound to the headboard, laying on her stomach with a pillow propping up her ass. She would make herself available to him in that way every night and in exchange, she would never complain as her husband simply used her for his own satisfaction after a hard day's work.

Most nights she would nudge the blindfold up and simply read romance novels as she waited and hoped to be mounted. Every once in a while it even worked, though it typically left her unsatisfied, it was better than nothing. They had been married for nearly twenty years, for a couple to say they have intercourse on a nightly basis after being married that long is almost unheard of, which is why she was content the new arrangement.

Unfortunately, sometimes being in a routine makes you oblivious to the sudden changes. Sometimes being complacent can be worse.


The story would start with a case of mistaken identity, how long that remains the case is up to discussion. I would like to see the mistaken identity go on for a few nights, perhaps spread out over the course of a week or two. I think with the seemingly renewed sexual interest of her partner she'd eventually suggest a new, compromising, position, or perhaps in a mistake of passion, her blindfold is brushed off. Maybe it's something as simple as her having a moment of clarity and realizing the differences between her husband and her son.

While this is a lot of structure for the story there is a lot of room to change details. Is the husband simply someone with a low sex drive, or is he having an affair? Do they live in a large home in a rich neighborhood, or are they just above the poverty line in a two bedroom home? How does she react when she finally discovers who's been deliciously mounting her before her husband gets home?

I could go a couple of ways with the son, depending on the area the family lives in, but at the end of the day, he's depressed and it's getting worse rapidly. He has been bullied and violence is a factor, he's losing hope, he's hurting, and he's not willing to talk about it. One night on his way to bed he went to say goodnight through the crack of his parent's bedroom door, only to be greeted with the sight of his mother lounging naked on the bed. He discovers the nightly routine and when he has hit a brand new low his restraint cracks and he mounts his blindfolded mother. ^{One element of build up could be the inclusion of Somnophilia.}

The story ongoing would involve their guilt, the mother's need to feel cared for and the intimacy of sex, and the son maturing quickly as he sees not only what he needs from her but what she has been missing for years.

While this is a lot of structure for the story already set up there is a lot of room to change details and I'm open to discussion. This could be a one-shot romp or a long term story that goes through the drama of taboo and repressed needs.

NSFW Picture Inspirations

[Keith]

She's On Probation
^{(Potentially Juvenile or Adult Probation)}
A Roleplay of Naivety, Dub-con, Authority, and Corruption.

A girl is on probation and in a single parent home. The mother is always working to make ends meet, works two jobs and there was never a father in the picture. Whenever the probation officer visits they have the house to themselves. When she goes to his office it's usually via the bus, the few times her mother can drop her off she would make a point to talk the Probation Officer into driving her daughter home.

He will discover how naive/ignorant/innocent she is and tests how far he can go. This could start by bending some rules. It could start nonsexually, observing her giving a urine sample to ensure she isn't hiding drug use, which is supposed to be done by female probation officers. He will build up to personally performing cavity checks (oral, vagina, anal), testing the waters by making her strip for the cavity checks, and soon make them plesaant for her. The probation officer will continue taking liberties as he firmly establishes his control over her.

As is required she has GPS ankle monitor due to being on probation, she could have a history of truancy or leaving her empty house to hang out at shady clubs late into the night. As things progress she would need to go to him for exemptions past her curfew (6-7PM), to go clubbing, parties, movies, or just hanging out with friends. Of course, he will take advantage of this, making her work for the brief windows of freedom, starting with oral as payment for looking the other way for a few hours.

This will be his first foray into perverse corruption and he will be sure to build things appropriately but will grow more confident as time progresses. She won't know any better and isn't interested in discussing what they do with others, why waste time talking about her PO when she could be having fun. I would like to strike a balance between naivety, sexual awakening, and realism. A little push back here and there is welcome. For instance, if she refuses the first cavity check he could spank her and then command she strips, saying that due to her resistance he believes drugs are on her person and will check everywhere before sending her home. Those touches of realism will keep things interesting.