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Author Topic: TSE's Terrifically Titillating Titles (Open to all!)  (Read 1392 times)

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Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
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TSE's Terrifically Titillating Titles (Open to all!)
« on: March 09, 2016, 04:30:53 AM »
Hey there!

Before I say anything else, I ought to thank you for taking the time to stop by. There are a ton of great writers around here, and countless other opportunities and offers. So really, I genuinely appreciate you taking a moment to at least peek at what I've got to offer.

I'll be using this thread as a way to keep track of all of the various story setups that I've concocted. If it doesn't have "(Closed)" in the title, I'm still looking for a partner, and would absolutely love to hear from you if you're interested. If you want to discuss one of my closed prompts or just want a nice chat, feel free to message me too! I'm always looking for someone new and fun to talk to. As a final note on open versus "(Closed)" prompts, the closed tag simply means that I currently already have a partner for that prompt. If my partner and I finish writing out that particular story, and I feel it still has some good play left in it with a new writer, I'll open it again. If it's been completely used up, I'll tag it with "(Retired)."

Now then, on to the goodies!





}}}={{{

Plot-Driven Prompts

This section is dedicated to my more well-thought-out story ideas. Each is written as a sort of "snapshot" of the character that I'm looking to play, so that you can get a taste of both my writing style and of the character's personality. Many of them are also designed to serve as the first post in a roleplay, as they introduce some sort of structure for a potential plot. One could also call this collection "Character-Driven," though I like to think that even my most simple writing is, at its heart, driven by character action rather than purely by their environment.




The Chill of Brokenness

Lije Olivaw


Tl;dr
Yowzers, I did not expect to get that long winded. To cut a very, very, very long story painfully short... Lije Olivaw is a member of a race that, until this last year, was enslaved in brutal mines. After a catastrophic natural disaster, Lije showed a moment of heroism, but in the act, was horribly wounded. When rescue ships arrived, they liberated the slaves, and reconstructed Lije using cybernetics. His acts of selflessness have become somewhat of a legend, and to further the efforts of a government organization to expose the race that enslaved Lije's kind, he goes on tour to talk about his experiences. It is implied that he is beginning to fall for the person that offered him this opportunity to tour and share his stories.


I'd never even considered the idea that I might someday be a celebrity. Even that statement gives too much credit to the concept. A year ago, I didn't know what a celebrity was. In the Eta Carinae Mines, no one knows more than what they need for maximum efficiency. The Benefactors made sure of that.

Built in the Eta Carinae nebula, the mines were constructed to extract the sorts of heavy elements that are left behind by supernovae. I had no idea, but the sort of things I mined each day represented unimaginable fortunes. 10kg of gold in one day was just barely enough to keep you off the lottery for the weekly Motivational Seminars. My mother had become pregnant with a seventh child, and her productivity had declined in the eighth of the thirteen months of gestation. She and twenty-four other failures, most of them very young children, the very ill, or the elderly, were lined up before a firing squad and cut down before an audience of thousands, as was the usual procedure at the Motivational Seminars. I remember being sad that I'd lost a friend, but I hardly had the time to feel any more than that.

The closest I ever came to celebrity was the one week I won the Highest Regional Production Award. Such luxury for those five days: double water rations, 10% boost in protein rations, and freedom from the threat of neuroducer lashes. I would have had all seven allotted days, were it not for the Collapse.

90% of the workforce (I've been told "population" is a better term, but old habits die hard) was killed instantly by the massive cave-ins that rolled through the mines after the Eta Carinae stellar remnant destabilized, sending shockwaves and gravitational disturbances through the asteroids and planetoids in the immediate vicinity. Most of the remaining 10% were horrifically wounded, the majority dying within minutes or hours. I'd been truly lucky, being one of the few that were in the small nodes of ultra-dense geological formations. I managed to save a few dozen of my co-workers (again, "fellow victims of slavery" is apparently what I should call them), though many of them perished in the coming days. I suppose I can be glad that I made sure that their final breaths were full and deep, rather than shallow, pinned beneath stone. I had demanded that among those that I unpinned, the ones who could still walk were to carry those that couldn't to the nearest uncompromised shelter zone and not return. I'd been eating better than any of them because of my award; I was more capable of uncovering the wounded, dead, and dying.

This went on for a little more than an hour before the secondary shock hit. It wasn't nearly as severe as the first, but it was enough to shift the already loose rubble. The pain of having nearly the entire right side of my body crushed into pulp was indescribable. Again, my survival was ensured by luck. As the nearby plasma conduit overloaded and exploded, the fire that engulfed me cauterized my wounds, guaranteeing at least a few days to exist as a barely living, half pulverized, half charred corpse. I was a bit less lucky in that one of the pipelines that carried the aerosol stimulant used to keep the workers perpetually alert had burst, making sure that I never quite lost consciousness.

A few days of near death was all I really needed to endure though. The rescue ships arrived four days after the collapse, and I was one of the first to be pulled from the carnage, despite my desperate, incoherent pleas for a swift end. At least they were merciful in giving me the gift of unconsciousness via a needle in the forehead. I had wondered why they went for such a vein, until it had been explained that all the usual places for a needle were buried under crackling, blackened flesh, or simply didn't exist anymore, having been crushed to the point of uselessness.

When I awoke, there was no pain. It was explained to me that nearly six months had passed, my condition so severe that the initial sedation I'd received had pushed me into a coma. I had been totally shocked that I had survived at all, brought to tears by relief, then by the overwhelming grief and horror from the memories of the sights and sounds of what I'd been too focused on action to really see and understand. These emotions didn't last long though, replaced by mind-numbing panic as I watched a foreign, vicious looking set of claws leap towards my face just as I meant to wipe my tears away. It took some serious convincing by the doctors to make me realize that this appendage was my own arm, or rather what took my original arm's place.

Right eye, right ear, right arm, right leg, right lung, half of my ribs, half of my skull, my heart, three other miscellaneous organs, several small patches of cerebral tissue, my larynx, 73% of my skin, and every hair. All cybernetic replacements.

The Bureau of Ethical Labor Practices and Investigation, or the BELPI, was the organization that stepped up and really reached out to my people. We'd only really been able to maintain an oral history, so we had some basic idea that there were other races besides us (Kaeri) and the Benefactors (who are apparently known by the rest of the galaxy as Parthigens), and we were vaguely aware of the fact that we'd been working in the mines for six or seven generations. But the BELPI showed us things that absolutely stunned us. Apparently, we'd always had a very small population, but at one point, we'd been able to wander the stars just as so many others could! It had been a small, quickly forgotten mystery when we suddenly vanished. Nomads. Travelers. It wasn't too much of a stretch to think we'd simply moved on. Finding us again, living so differently than we had before, had been the biggest news story in years. Many Parthigens have been working very hard, pouring as much of their unimaginable wealth into quieting the tale as they can, but it seems that the BELPI is finally getting a foothold on the road to holding them responsible for... It still seems to strange to me. To think that my entire life, the only thing I've ever known, was cruelty of the most heinous kind. Honestly, just having the time to feel and express more than basic emotion is rather a new concept.

In any case, the reason I'm where I am today I suppose comes from my actions during the Collapse. Stories began to circulate among my kind, starting out as reasonably accurate descriptions of what I'd done; despite being a bit below average in size and build, I'd managed to get a good number of people to safety, and while I was at it, very nearly died. The stories escalated and ballooned, just as any rumor does. It wasn't long before legends of a petite man, able to lift boulders twice his size and carry five wounded men to safety at a time, began to bounce around, totally out of control. Some human caught wind of the story, and asked for this hero's name. "Lije Olivaw, Bite-Sized Hero of Eta Carinae!" When they finally tracked me down, I was almost certain they would be disappointed. Yes, I'm short and lithe in comparison to the average Kaeri man, but I'm still 6'4". And no, I didn't save 500 men, women and children. I pulled maybe 30-ish people from the rubble, many of whom died anyway, and then I got mashed and fried. But that was good enough for this human, a BELPI agent.

For a year now, I've traveled with and served the public relations department of the BELPI. They've taught me so many amazing things... Money seems so exotic to me. It's like an extra, intermediate step in the bartering process... One serves a Benefactor (no, no... "employer") not just to survive, but to earn this money. I'd never been exposed to anything like it, but I forced myself to learn all about how it works, seeing as I often have four whole digits of it at a time. There are no water rations, and with all this money, I can buy nutrition that I could never have dreamed of before. I've nearly doubled in weight. Supple, soft lips and cheeks now make it almost impossible to see the details of the skull beneath. My belly is flat, no longer the gaunt cave I had thought was natural for my kind. My ribs have been hidden, swaddled in a thin layer of silky fat and dense muscles I would have considered supernatural not so long ago. My gums and lips have ceased to bleed, my head only throbs with pain on occasion, and my bones no longer groan and buckle under stress.

Now, I'm the face of the Kaeri. To be more specific, I represent, as the final words of my cue to go out on stage say, "what the Parthigens so selfishly and cruelly kept hidden from the rest of the galaxy. Every race has beauty to offer and heroes to honor. We've shown you the incredible artistry of the Kaeri people, and now, we give you their hero. Lije Olivaw!"

As I step out into the blindingly bright spotlight, I give an admittedly nervous wave to the largest crowd yet to gather at one of these 'awareness rallies.' Ten thousand people. There are a few hundred more people here today just to see me than there are Kaeri still alive. Though my nerves are driving me to the brink of panic, I manage to give my well-recognized smile. It comes so naturally to me, yet it's been called 'smoldering,' 'heroic,' and even, to my immense embarrassment, 'undeniably sexy.'

As the applause dies down, I open my mouth to introduce myself, but the only sound that comes out is a dry, empty gasp. The sound of irreparably damaged vocal chords leaps from the speakers and washes over the crowd, and everything grinds to a dead stop. A deep jade flush of shame glows upon my snout, and I turn from the microphone both to hide my embarrassment and to adjust my collar. Long, agonizing seconds grind by in painful silence as I struggle with the synthesizer, until finally, just as someone is inches from coming from back stage to help me, I feel the buzz of a successful connection between the collar and the implant in my throat. I throw up my hand to let the aide know that I've got everything under control, and we exchange a quick thumbs up. I finally turn back to the crowd, and realize that hot tears of frustration and shame have begun to gather on my left cheek, the right tear duct having given up long ago.

My earpiece springs to life, and the voice of the agent that chased me down and offered me this opportunity speaks softly. They give me gentle words of comfort and encouragement. Nothing overly complicated, but just enough. They always know what to say. I can't thank them enough.

I wipe away the moisture upon my cheek, and finally begin to speak, the artificial recreation of my voice speaking in an absolutely truthful tone, quivering just as the one I was born with would have. "Hah... I'm... Sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I'm sure you came here to see the towering, invincible Olivaw." I give a nervous chuckle, which earns a few sympathetic laughs. "But ah... He's not here. In fact, if you want to meet him, I'd like to direct you just outside the front doors to this theater, on the right, two blocks down. You'll see him on the cover of every tabloid for sale at the news stands." Oh, thank god. Some genuine laughter at that joke. "No, that Olivaw doesn't really exist except as sort of a legend. Goodness, it sounds so terribly cliche to say it out loud, but it really is true; I'm just a man." I throw some extra, melodramatic bravado into the last phrase, finally getting some good, rolling laughter out of a slowly warming audience. "As awful as that little moment was, I think I'm glad you got to see it. That's real. I'm not the Great and Wonderful Olivaw. I'm Lije. I struggle with little inconveniences and the large scale anxieties just like anyone does. Don't... Don't think I'm somehow special. More than anything, I've just been lucky, and I've managed to make the most of that luck." I pause for a moment, taking a few seconds to breathe, before I begin my story.

"...I'd never even considered the idea that I might someday be a celebrity. Even that statement gives too much credit to the concept..."


Science Fiction
Male character, seeking any





Dancing to the Beat of a Different Drum

The Bard and his Muse


She's an enchantress. There's no other explanation for her unearthly beauty and supernatural charm.

Ah, but such thoughts can be nothing more than a waste of my time. A creature such as myself, a yinglet, is hardly ever even seen as more than a nuisance. While it's true that I have managed to claw my way into the world of humans through great effort and determination, the necessity for that effort and determination never faded. To most, I will never be more than a dirty little rat, a carrier of filth and disease with snagging, pick-pocketing claws. There's no chance at all, lest the gods themselves intervene, that she could ever see me as more than a friend at best.

Alas, I cannot rid myself of my desires. Perhaps if I were to profess my feelings outright, and allow them to be dashed against the ground, then I could move on, but I can't bring myself to do such a thing. Were someone to know my thoughts, I might be so lucky as to become the laughing stock of the town, or even luckier, just the King Crab Inn. At worst, I would run the risk of being driven from town or beaten to death.

It doesn't help that my thin lips, my oddly spaced teeth, and my long, verbally useless tongue leave me unable to convey my thoughts and feelings with any chance of being taken seriously. My poor grasp of the common language is just another barrier. But my music and my delicate, dexterous fingers working their magic upon my mandolin keep me from living on the streets or starving. Why, they brought me to her. My muse. My inspiration. My dancer. Perhaps my mandolin can bring me more. Or perhaps this is the wishful thinking of an infatuated mind.

As I strum the last chord of the last song for the evening, she gives her final twirl beside me. Coins arc through the air to land within my upended feathered cap as thanks for our show, and I give a polite bow of my head, even though I know that the coin is all thanks to her. The patrons slowly calm themselves, the night having grown old, and those who do not retire to their rooms grow quiet as they nurse their drinks.

I take a few moments to split our takings for the day, secretly giving her ever so slightly more than myself. She's twice my height and many times my weight after all; she needs just as much food as any human would, which is many times over what I could possibly consume. I know from experience that, if push comes to shove, I can raid one of the nearby poultry farms for chicken feed, and that will sustain me.

Something comes over me as the last coin falls into her pile on the table. Is it... Yes. Tonight is the night. I cannot bring myself to speak what I truly feel of course... I'm simply too meek a beast. But I can take the first step. Oh... but it is so difficult. She can nearly always understand my muddled speech, but it is still a source of insecurity for me. Yet I have no other options.

"...My lady. I zhink we haf made a good pull on ze piezes of money today! Iz such a good sing, iz it not? But I have made a even better idea for to pull on ze coin." I quietly pluck out a few notes of the piece I've been working on. "A new song andt danz! Iz egshotik... Exho--exotic, and lively! Pearhaps we can meet at ze room which iz mine tomorrow morn to zhare it and whurk on it togezher?"


Fantasy
Male character, seeking female






Anomalous Gravitation (Closed)

Admiral Gaedr

Admiral Gaedr (alt image)

My entire body tenses when the first of the human delegates begin pouring into the room. The Carina-Sagittarius War ended over a decade ago, but after seeing it first hand, I can hardly forget the atrocities they perpetrated upon my race.

No... They were not the only brutal, merciless monstrosities involved in that war. I may never forgive them for the Metreon Cascade, but it was merely the way they chose to finish something we started. Uninhabitable seems like such a neutral word, describing a place which need only be avoided. One learns to see that word differently when it is suddenly applied all at once to an entire world which is still inhabited by millions.

The human delegation slowly settles into their seats across from the Vay Pentacle, chattering and scrambling as they always seem to do. Indeed, the only two humans who don't seem to be in a wild fuss are the final two who step through the door: the President, and someone who I know nothing about. Personal guard? Cabinet member?... I've no idea.

Whatever the case, the nature of this meeting is clearly of significant importance. The President is here, and to my total shock, so is her Highness, Empress Silves. She stands at the end of the table, clearly taking the position of command. She called the meeting to order herself. Unprecedented.

Order and quiet falls upon the conference room, all eyes upon her Highness. Her golden stare sweeps across the room, allowing silence to gather and well up before speaking. "...It has come to my attention that a source of intense gravitational distortion has begun to emit anomalous, highly structured radiation in subspace. It just so happens that this radiation's frequency matches Vay subspace communication frequencies nearly perfectly." One of the members of the pentacle performs a subtle gesture, and the holo-projector in the center of the table displays an image which looks like a random collection of specks and waves. Though I've never understood much of this sort of thing myself, I respect it well enough to pay attention, and learn how to apply it practically.

The image hangs, meaningless for the time being. "...For political reasons, the successful decryption of human communication relays has been kept--" Muttering and whispering sweeps across the human delegates, only brought to silence by a soft shush from their President. "...Thank you. Has been kept classified. However, we discovered that if we scan the anomaly at the lower frequencies of human communication and apply decryption, we find a very similar signal." A second image leaps to life at the center of the table. Her Highness merely nods to one of the Pentacle, and they stand, silently reaching out to the two patterns. With a single rotation of ninety degrees, the two images form two walls of a cube... and the pattern becomes apparent to me. I can see it even before the projection displays where the specks and circles and waves intersect when extended from their surfaces, and like magic, there it is; a star map. And a single, obviously indicated planetoid, nestled deep within the Briar Patch nebula.

Silence. Everyone already knows what it means. There's someone trying to get our attention. What makes everyone truly freeze is that whoever is reaching out must have known both what frequencies humans and Vay broadcast at, and how to use human encryption. That, and the memory of what happened the last time either of us responded to such a message. War.

When the next image is displayed, I feel as though I'm going to vomit. My dossier, the dossier of the infamous Admiral Gaedr, hangs in the air. Immediately beside it is the record of the human I didn't recognize. Right over the top of both, clear as day, are the words "Cooperative Investigation."


Science Fiction
Male character, seeking any




Reality is Stranger than Fiction (Closed)

Aurelius the Nymph

(This image has been modified in order to adhere to Elliquiy rules regarding NSFW images.
As a result, the artist's signature has been partially cropped out. Artist credit: Chimerasynx
Contact me in PM if you would like the original image.)

In 1965, the Fey revealed themselves to humanity. Fairies, sprites, brownies, fauns, nixies, pixies... In the slang of the time, some referred to the new arrivals as "nyads, dryads and triads." Defying all expectations, the Fey quickly worked their way into human cultures across the world. Even as exotic a creature as a tanuki could be found in nearly every urban center in Asia, or kokopelli in the United States Southwestern region. Their integration into human society was certainly helped by the subtle (and occasionally fantastical) magic of the creatures.

One thing that didn't help this process was the simple fact that legends slowly change, losing their accuracy bit by bit with each retelling. Pixies are nearly a foot tall and covered in fine, iridescent scales, rather than being the size of a thumb and a simple human with wings. Fauns are considerably more influenced by their caprine half, with an elongated face and oval pupils.

Men around the world rejoiced when the first water nymph appeared in 1967. Tales of beautiful women clad in flowing white silk whose magical powers stemmed from sexuality captivated their minds. Of course, just like any of the other Fey, the expectations were simply not to be met. Oh, they were beautiful... But more in the sense that a work of art or piece of music is beautiful. Springing forth from Greece, they quickly spread across the world, and made it abundantly clear that yes, they draw their healing magic from the power of lust and sex, but also revealing their exceptionally exotic and inhuman bodies, as well as the fact that their population is far from exclusively female.

Half a century later, the Fey number near the 7 million mark, making them not quite 0.1% of the population. Quite literally, they are one in a thousand, and each sub-species makes up an even smaller number within that 0.1%. As such, meeting with a Fey isn't rare, but it is always memorable.

And so, as you see me sitting at the bar, quietly trying to enjoy a beer and asking the bar tender if the silverware is aluminum or steel, no matter how unassuming my attitude is, I stick out like a sore thumb. At seven and a half feet tall, with soft but undeniably powerful muscles rolling gently beneath my smooth, glossy, lavender skin, and with my platinum-white mane and long, leonine tail curled around the leg of the bar stool, it is simply obvious that I'm a nymph. My long neck supports my trademark head, a unique blend of amphibious, draconic, and equine features. But my eyes, a deep, shadowy jade, lack something. It might not be immediately recognizable to most humans, but any Fey would immediately see the dullness and be struck with pained sympathy. A pixie need only tend a garden to maintain their magic. A satyr simply indulges in celebration. My needs are different. Once, it was easy for my kind to convince human passers by that they should not squander their chance at making love to a work of art, that they could not possibly regret such a moment, and that they could keep the story to themselves (or alter it however they pleased) if they so desired. Now, the secret of our appearance, our blatantly animalistic features, is common knowledge, and in the age of light speed communication and a camera in every pocket, no one dares give us what we need. Revulsion and the fear of ridicule are powerful forces. It's been two years since I've had any magic left in me, and in my race, that magic is one of healing. At my peak, I radiate wellness, curing illness with my mere presence. Given a few months and a steady supply of magic, I can even regrow a person's damaged or lost organs. Without my magic, I have a painful reminder of every bump, bruise and scrape I've sustained in the last two years, unable to even heal myself. I'm lucky I've not hurt my face or hands, though I've taken to wearing long sleeved shirts and jeans no matter the weather. If I had ever needed surgery, I'd be dead, my body unable to close the wounds. My eyes no longer shine like emeralds, both because of my condition and the stress of constant worry that it may never pass.


Modern Fantasy
Male character, seeking any





Mammalian Standards of Femininity (Closed)


Tagtheratrix the Scrivener (Closed)

I stare at you from the other side of the cell, my citrine eyes with slit pupils almost seeming to glow in the low light, the torch beyond the door casting just enough light into the room to make the ashen gray of my scales visible. My gaze flickers across you, trying to get a bearing on precisely what sort of assets you might be able to provide in helping me to escape. My thoughts are interrupted by the odor that wafts off of you, making me recoil in disgust "Oh-- In the name of all things precious, why did they throw a human in with me? Whoof, at least you're not as vile as the goblins that threw us in here. You've probably bathed at least once in your life, right? Better than them. Credit where credit is due." I look off to the side as I grimace, still trying to ignore the sour stench of goblin, the new layer of your scent helping despite being not at all pleasant itself.

I catch the look of incredulity upon your face, and look around for a moment, trying to find what's surprised you. When the source of your shock becomes clear, I roll my eyes and sneer. "What, didn't expect a girl's voice out of me? Yes, I'm a woman." I point at you with both hands, taking out my frustration with being captured upon you. "You." I cup my hands against my flat chest, as though I'm supporting a pair of massive breasts. "Mammal." I point a pair of thumbs back at myself, my voice and expression simply oozing with biting sarcasm. "Me. Reptile." I pound my chest with a fist, demonstrating clearly that I possess none of the weak, sensitive mammary glands you humans are so fixated upon. I cup my chest again and put on a stupid face and voice, my tongue hanging out the side of my muzzle. "Ooh, look at me, I'm a hoomahn! I think anything without tits has a dick!"

I cross my arms with a huff and stare up at the heavy stone door that closed behind you. A few moments later, my gaze falls to the floor. "That was unnecessary and unkind. I've just been in here for a while, and it's starting to get to me. You didn't deserve that." I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, feeling like an absolute moron. "...Sorry."

Finally, I look back over to you, my hands falling casually to the floor to support me as I lean back. "Look. Here's the rub. The goblins were dumb enough to let me keep my clothes, not realizing that I'm a scrivener..." I close my eyes and shake my head. "Right. Scrivener. It's a kobold thing. Ok... Wizards keep their magic in their minds, sorcerers hold it in their blood, paladins and clerics call upon it from their gods, druids draw it from nature, and bards don't count." I smirk at my little joke before going on. "Scriveners call upon writing to hold onto their magic." I pull the collar of my vest away from my neck, revealing a set of draconic runes stitched into the fabric with fine golden thread. "I've got a few good utility spells left in my clothes, but I used up all of the combat spells trying to avoid capture. That definitely worked out well." I give a short chuckle, trying to lift my spirits and perhaps make my cell mate more receptive to partnering up with me. "I can get us out of this cell and past any other doors we come across, make sure that we have a shot at avoiding one instance of being spotted, and then maybe provide some sort of help and support to you if I'm clever."

"There are two problems that I absolutely can't solve on my own. One is that we'll have to deal with more than one set of guards. The other is that my scriptor-- Oh, uh, the tool I use for stitching, tattooing, and calligraphy-- is in the locker on the other side of this door,  and the key to that locker is hung on a peg about seven feet off the ground." I shake my head in frustration, trying desperately to figure out what can be done. "I have no idea how to get past all the guards, and there's no way I could reach those keys..." I look at you, epiphany making my eyes go wide for a moment before they fall shut as I realize my idiocy. "...Right. Once we're out of the cell, you could just grab them, couldn't you? Well, that's one problem down..."


Tagtheratrix the Shrike (Closed)

I have grown so incredibly weary of working with mammals. It's a damn shame that all of the good money to be had is on the surface. I almost wish that I wasn't gifted with such an extraordinary resistance to sunlight; I'd have an excuse to stay in the mines with my own kind, rather than venture out into the sun to find a "better life."

Of course, that's an exaggeration. As a hatchling and well into my adolescence, I'd always hated the idea of being stuck working in the mines. Day in, day out, pretending to enjoy singing those stupid songs while wearing your body thin against the stone, hoping one day that among the countless tons of coal being ripped out of the walls, you'd be the one to find the diamond that would let you out of hell.

Then the surface breach happened. Poor planning and incompetence lead several dozen miners to dig too close to the surface, and the soil above collapsed in on them, exposing them all to direct sunlight. The shrill cries of shock and pain carried far and wide through the caves, and I was among the many that flocked to the spectacle. Onlookers stared for as long as they could before they had to look away, the searing light burning their eyes. The victims were still writhing in pain, even their clenched eyelids not enough to block out the blinding light. Without a thought, I strode out into the fray, and began tying the emergency blindfolds and guiding the miners back into the safety of the darkness. Some people say that my eyes looked otherworldly and foreign, pupils constricted to tiny slits to protect me.

I felt such guilt as dozens of impoverished families, in an effort to show their gratitude for saving their loved ones from permanent blindness, scrimped and saved and scraped together every extra copper piece they had to give to me. I tried desperately to turn down the offers, but they simply wouldn't listen. Before long, coin pouches with no clues as to who had left them began to accumulate at the entrance to my burrow. Finally, I simply gave up, donated half of the money to the hospitals that had treated the injured, and used the remaining cash to get the hell out of dodge.

Of the surface dwelling races, the halflings are the most likely to show some level of respect. They know full well that being such a small creature hardly means that one poses no threat. At least, they show decency until they find out that I'm not a thief for hire, but a blade. Then the laughter comes. Usually all it takes to get them to shut their faces is to remind them of how I got the title of Shrike. There's a very good reason I'm named after a bird that impales its prey upon thorns for later meals. The Elves are fair, but that's simply because they have equal disdain for everyone that isn't Elvish.

Humans are fascinating to me though. I mean, I don't like them, but they can at least be entertaining. So focused are they upon the male and female form, so hierarchical are they when it comes to age and size and strength, that they nearly always misjudge me at first sight. The number of times I've heard variations on "Young lad, it's dangerous to play with a sword like that! Where are your parents?!" is simply staggering. I'll give them credit though; they have the decency to turn beet red and stumble wildly over their rushed apologies when they hear the voice of a 25 year old woman calmly correct them.

So here I am, in the human city of Greyston, standing upon a stool at the merc's booth in the market square just to be seen in the crowd. I'm here in the hopes of landing a good gig, perhaps as a carriage escort or as a bodyguard. Even being hired to deal with a small goblin or trog infestation would be pleasant enough. I might even get to work as part of a team, giving me a chance to show off a bit. Of course, part of me is also looking forward to someone giving me a pat on the head and asking me if I'm having fun pretending to be a big bad merc like the other men. I really do enjoy leaving someone twice my size flustered and embarrassed.

Fantasy
Female character, seeking any




Schwartzchild-Kugelblitz or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Humans (Closed)

It's been nearly a century since first contact. Despite what both human and slizst fiction might have led us to believe, the first time we met an intelligent race aside from our own was not at all glamorous or miraculous. Neither of us brought the other FTL technology. We didn't bring humanity a cure for cancer, nor did humans deliver a treatment for deleria. Really, there was only one aspect of first contact that fit with our preconceived notions of what it should be like; the humans 'came in peace.'

All of this isn't to say that it wasn't incredible, nor was the exchange of technology and culture without incredible boons. It was still an unbelievable shock to actually find that life existed elsewhere in the universe, especially within our own solar system. That it was intelligent life was even more staggering. The two things that really made their mark though were these; the slizst had always been under the impression that, if life were to be discovered, it would be deep within their home world, Ganymede, and humanity had thought that intelligent life, when discovered, would not be in the midst of the most devastating disaster the race had ever encountered.

The slizst had evolved beneath the frozen stone surface of Ganymede. The world was small enough that radio hadn't seemed necessary, and had been relegated to the realm of 'fascinating, but very niche in its uses.' Virtually every piece of information that needed to be sent from one place to another was transmitted by wire. It is no wonder, then, that they never detected the deluge of radio signals pouring out of the third planet in the solar system, and it explained why earth, with its endless arrays of radio telescopes, never detected a single message.

What they did detect was a massive, unexpected burst of gamma radiation from a previously undetected object in orbit around Jupiter. When every available telescope swiveled to point at the source, all that was seen was a cloud of metal vapor: mostly iron, lead, a little copper, and plenty of carbon. The newly formed Earth Solar Exploration Agency (precursor to the Terran Extrasolar Agency) immediately assembled a team of top-notch professionals to take the two year long journey to Jupiter.

When they finally arrived, what they discovered shocked both worlds. A massive crack had formed in Ganymede's crust, revealing a seemingly endless catacomb of caves... Caves which were filled to the brim with a dying race of upright, intelligent reptiles.

It took the most talented linguists of both cultures months to bridge the language gap, but once it was done, the nature of the situation became clear. The slizst had successfully built the first ever kugelblitz generator, a seemingly endless source of energy based upon the steady decay of a microscopic singularity. Six earth years after its creation, however, for reasons unknown, the singularity destabilized, and tore free of its bonds, launching through the crust of Ganymede. It dragged along with it several tons of the equipment that had been used to contain it, and then evaporated in a burst of radiation. The people of Ganymede were blasted with gamma rays, and were still, years later, suffering the aftershocks and the fallout.

Years of deliberation on earth dragged by as the slizst continued to struggle. Finally, a massive relocation program was given the green light, and within the next year, the entire population of Ganymede was evacuated to earth.

With the two races working in tandem, the problems that had led to the destruction of the kugelblitz were solved, and the first schwartzchild-kugelblitz was created. It was only a matter of time before humanity would fling itself at the stars, held up by the thankful hands of its newest comrades.
IIIII
On a vessel with a crew of nearly four thousand, it's statistically reasonable to assume that between three and five slizst names would appear on the roster. Such a ratio would be roughly in line with the human/slizst population proportion back on Earth, after adjustment for my people's relative inexperience with space travel. Of course, this is only an estimate, and so it's really no surprise that I alone make up half of the slizst crew on the Racc'hik. It just strikes me as a bit ironic that the first TEA vessel to be given a slizst name would also have a statistically unreasonably small slizst crew. This doesn't bother me too terribly, though it's a shame that the other half of my race here is... Well. Grouchy would be a compliment. Either bitter or spiteful is probably more accurate.

They-- biologists, sociologists, psychologists-- aren't quite sure what causes inter-species attraction. It's rare enough that it doesn't get much attention except as whispers and suspicions. One particularly hopeful theory is that an intelligent creature is naturally attracted to a personality, a "soul" so to speak, regardless of what body it inhabits. Another, which I tend to think is a bit more likely, is that the natural urge to procreate starts to go a bit askew when one is isolated from their own kind for too long, whether that be simply living in a world with a population ratio of a thousand to one, or being stuck on a vessel for several years without any other members of your own race to even talk to... But this is a silly thing to spend my time thinking about. I don't have to deal with such things. Really. I'm sure. The crew mate that I find myself encountering often, both on and off duty, that I find myself staring at on occasion, that I've had certain, unhealthy dreams about... They're just a casual acquaintance and a reliable coworker.

Maybe I should speak to the councilor. We've just finished our supply drop at the mining colony on Ceres, and are on our way to Jupiter Station for refueling and a bout of shore leave before the long trek out to the science outpost of Eris. It's really not a problem, but I shouldn't take any chances at ruining the next few years.



Options for my character:

Lt. Fis'Deryt (Male)

5'10"
91 kg
Engineer
Excels at physically demanding and dangerous work, works well under pressure, but has difficulty with navigating the Jefferies tubes. Makes an effort to be outgoing and friendly in an attempt to counteract his potentially intimidating appearance.

   
Lt. Cmdr. Kauch'Isn (Male)

5'4"
64 kg
Chief of Security/ Weapons Specialist
Fully aware that his subordinates intentionally mispronounce his name as "Lt. Cmdr. Cock'Isn" behind his back. Doesn't mention it, but tries to convince himself that he thinks it's funny.

   
Dr. Vas'Hyren (Female)

6'5"
72 kg
Chief Medical Officer
Awkward bedside manner. Friendly, but very business-first. Hides her smile as a result of a racially-charged traumatic incident from her childhood, during which her attackers blamed "being frightened of her fangs" as justification.


Science Fiction
Male or female character, seeking any






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PlotLiteTM
"For when you want more Tail than Tale"

So, as you might have guessed, these are some offerings of a more... lascivious nature. They're clearly geared towards getting to the point where things get messy much, much sooner. This can range anywhere from just 10-15 posts in, or even almost immediately, depending on how you and I end up deciding to play it out.




The Gift of New Experiences

Writing as a Male Character

Alexander Lago

As I stand before you, I wear only five things: a pair of black slacks, just tight enough to both put my body on display and maintain good taste, a similarly tasteful and tight shirt, a simple, yet elegant leather collar with a golden buckle, a confident facade, a the subtlest hint of trepidation and nervousness behind my hazel eyes. I personally feel as though I'm quite pleasing to the eye, but that is, of course, for my owner to decide.

My digitigrade feet are planted immediately next to each other, pressing my powerful, yet supple and slender legs tightly against one another, complimenting my exceptionally well-trained posture to bring me up to my full height of 5'2"... Ears excepted. My arms are held comfortably and formally behind my back, helping me maintain that impeccably straight spine and lifting my gentle chest up and forward.

After a few moments of silence, allowing me to observe my owner's quiet curiosity and what I detect as the slightest hint of confusion, I put my teacher's instructions to use, and begin to speak. This will be the only time I speak to my owner without being spoken to first, unless he gives me permission to do otherwise. "Good afternoon, sir." My voice is a soft, smooth tenor, reminiscent of a perfectly tuned, masterfully played viola.

"My name is Alexander Lago, though you may give me any name you desire. I have been delivered to you as a gift from a friend who has elected to remain anonymous."

"Though I would choose to be more humble than to proclaim my own value, I am instructed to inform you that I come to you from Adelin Langerhan's Masterwork Servants, and that I am a product of the Elite Platinum class. To expound upon this information, this means that I represent fifteen years of intensive and rigorous training, that I am unquestioningly obedient, highly flexible and malleable to meet any and all of your needs or desires, and, to paraphrase Madam Langerhan, as well as multiple reviews by highly esteemed professionals, that I am without a doubt unsurpassed by any other in terms of quality."

"The individual who sends me to you as a gift has requested that I inform you of two things. Firstly, they wish for you to know that they recognize that you prefer to keep women in your company, but that they insist that you take full advantage of my services. To quote them, they state that doing so would be 'more than enough thanks for such a remarkable show of generosity.' Secondly, they desire that I inform you that I am 'completely untainted by carnal knowledge, both physical and mental.' I admit with some regret that I do not understand this message, and therefor cannot further explain it, but I have been assured that such a trait can be seen as highly desirable."

I give a subtle nod before I finish my introductory speech. "In conclusion, if you have any questions for me at all, you may ask them at any time, as is your right as my master. And of course, I am ready to begin my service to you whenever and however you see fit."


Writing as a Female Character

Alexander Lago

As I stand before you, I wear only five things: a pair of black slacks, just tight enough to both put my body on display and maintain good taste, a similarly tasteful and tight shirt, a simple, yet elegant leather collar with a golden buckle, a confident facade, a the subtlest hint of trepidation and nervousness behind my cloudy-sky blue eyes. I personally feel as though I'm quite pleasing to the eye, but that is, of course, for my owner to decide.

My digitigrade feet are planted immediately next to each other, pressing my powerful, yet supple legs tightly against one another, complimenting my exceptionally well-trained posture to bring me up to my full height of 5'2"... Ears excepted. My arms are held comfortably and formally behind my back, helping me maintain that impeccably straight spine and lifting my strong chest up and forward.

After a few moments of silence, allowing me to observe my owner's quiet curiosity and what I detect as the slightest hint of confusion, I put my teacher's instructions to use, and begin to speak. This will be the only time I speak to my owner without being spoken to first, unless she gives me permission to do otherwise. "Good afternoon, madam." My voice is a soft, smooth baritone, reminiscent of a perfectly tuned, masterfully played cello.

"My name is Alexander Lago, though you may give me any name you desire. I have been delivered to you as a gift from a friend who has elected to remain anonymous."

"Though I would choose to be more humble than to proclaim my own value, I am instructed to inform you that I come to you from Adelin Langerhan's Masterwork Servants, and that I am a product of the Elite Platinum class. To expound upon this information, this means that I represent fifteen years of intensive and rigorous training, that I am unquestioningly obedient, highly flexible and malleable to meet any and all of your needs or desires, and, to paraphrase Madam Langerhan, as well as multiple reviews by highly esteemed professionals, that I am without a doubt unsurpassed by any other in terms of quality."

"The individual who sends me to you as a gift has requested that I inform you of two things. Firstly, they wish for you to know that they recognize that you generally prefer not to keep servants, but that they insist that you take full advantage of my services. To quote them, they state that doing so would be 'more than enough thanks for such a remarkable show of generosity.' Secondly, they desire that I inform you that I am 'completely untainted by carnal knowledge, both physical and mental.' I admit with some regret that I do not understand this message, and therefor cannot further explain it, but I have been assured that such a trait can be seen as highly desirable."

I give a subtle nod before I finish my introductory speech. "In conclusion, if you have any questions for me at all, you may ask them at any time, as is your right as my Master. And of course, I am ready to begin my service to you whenever and however you see fit."


Modern
Male character, seeking any





Lord Mordred Requests your Presence (Closed)
WARNING

This prompt is not like the others I've posted below. While most of my writing tends to focus upon at least some level of romance, this one does not. Although the sexual moments in my other prompts can be particularly "vigorous" and "intense," they are always centered upon mutual consent and pleasure. This roleplay will not contain these elements. The character I will be playing, Lord Mordred, undeniably fits the clinical description of a sociopath. He is immensely selfish, uncaring, and he delights in the suffering of others.

This roleplay will include: non-consensual sex, psychological manipulation, threat of physical abuse/trauma, potential physical abuse/trauma, mild to moderate blood, bondage.

I do not condone this sort of behavior in reality. This scenario is written exclusively as a fantasy, and is not to be taken as advocacy of any of the acts contained. It is written purely as fiction.
Mordred
I'm well aware of how I seem. Far too many times has it been made clear that, though I rule over Kritia, I seem small, fragile, immensely effeminate, and totally unintimidating. To be quite honest, I prefer it this way. No one but a select few perceive me as much of a threat, or even threatening at all. At best, I'm seen as endearing, and at worst, I'm seen as a nuisance.

Some know better. The mutts of Andrea fell beneath my power before they even realized we were at war. The human kingdom of Brittyr was "annexed" after a short, brutal campaign of total warfare. The last slave rebellion to ever occur in Brittyr happened mere days after my coronation, and after the brutality I inflicted upon their insolent and childish tantrum, such problems have ceased to exist. It would seem that having their greatest hero viciously beaten in each and every major city in the kingdom, then denied the honor of martyrdom in death, was enough to dissuade further uprisings. Of course, publicly, it was announced that these things were ordered by my General, to preserve my facade of weakness and ineffectuality. My General had actually questioned my order on the final subject. The punishment he received was more than enough to remind him of his place.

And now, in this time of peace... I hunger for the thrill of domination. Doesn't matter who or what any more. It only needs to be something pleasant that I can own, control, and slowly consume with my own will.

The letter arrived at your doorstep by royal courier yesterday.

Quote
Subject,

Recently, I have found that I feel the need to reach out to my subjects more directly than I have before. It seems to me that despite my various public appearances during times of duress and of celebration, I feel terribly disconnected from my people. I know of them, and I do my very best to serve them well as their Lord, but alas, I do not have the proper acquaintances or experiences to connect on a more personal level with them.

It is for this reason that I write this letter to you, loyal subject. On my many trips to Andrea on errands of peacekeeping, I find myself passing by your fields time and again. I have witnessed your diligence and passion in your work, and I have, on occasion, had the pleasure of hearing you sing or whistle to yourself as you tend your crops. I feel that, having grown to know you in this vague and distant way, it would do me well to have you visit me in my home. I may even have an opportunity to offer you prolonged stay in my keep as a temporary or permanent servant, if such things would interest you.

I have arranged for General Baurin to collect you tomorrow morning, one hour after sunrise. I very much look forward to meeting you personally.

With sincere thanks,

His Highness Lord Mordred

Transcribed from dictation by Scribe Norel

Fantasy
Male character, seeking any





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Snippets

Occasionally, I conjure up a vague, very brief concept for a story, or as is more common, I'm inspired to write out a short scene or outline in relation to something that's been said or shown to me by a fellow writer. Though I'm not necessarily exceptionally enthralled by some of these ideas, I think they present some opportunity for crafting a full story, and have the potential to be very entertaining. So if you see something here that you really love, let me know!



Your First Time Here?


"...Your first time here you mean? No need to be bashful or nervous. We all have dry spells every now and then. I'll just walk you through the rules--"

"Ah, er... no.... Sorry, that's not what I meant. It's ah... It's my first time. I-I've never... I'm a..."

"...Oh. Ohh." *Licks her lips, then slides in closer to her client and cups his face in tender hands* "...Well. We'll just have to make your first time special, won't we?"






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Image Prompts

These are a few characters I'd be thoroughly interested in playing, but don't have a story in mind for. In other words, I'm totally open to any suggestions!




                                                           
SFW

Foxy Little Thing


Fennec Lass


Ithska of Bedlam Gorge (Closed)


The Hungry, Playful Beast


NSFW


No, really. This is NSFW.
There are pictures which depict genitalia in the following collection.
Still with me?
Alright then! Have fun! :D

Yippee!


I knew it! M/M


C'mon, give it a try... M/M


Canis Lupus M/F
                                                           
« Last Edit: June 12, 2016, 08:04:16 PM by TSElephant »

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #1 on: March 09, 2016, 09:50:52 PM »
Retired Prompts

General Daxin's Offer (Retired)
The poster was simple, so as not to confuse the eye, and just a couple of hours ago, the town crier read it out for those who never had a chance to become literate. Such a population would be small in His Highness' kingdom, as King Julius III was always offering countless opportunities to his people in an effort to better his land as a whole, but in such a distant, outlying village, such people might still exist.

No one was surprised by a freshly offered opportunity for growth from His Highness. What had the town buzzing was the nature of the offering. As you now read the parchment, it becomes clear just what has everyone so excited.

Quote
Sir Farayl Regat Daxin, General of the Nou-Occitan Army, requests the presence of any man or woman who believes they possess a gift which would make them valuable as a member of Daxin's Myrmidons.

You've heard of the Myrmidons before... A small collection of people, perhaps three dozens, all of whom answer only to General Daxin and the King himself. Unbound by law, when they aren't taking orders, they roam the land and far beyond, searching for ways to serve the people. Daeva, the sorceress, only two months ago ended a year long drought in the northern province. Last week, Neil the Rogue was heard from for the first time in almost two years, announcing that he'd successfully 'acquired' half a dozen ancient artifacts which had fallen into the hands of powerful evildoers. Brillien the Paladin just passed through your town last season on his way to end a series of gnoll raids on a nearby village. These people are unique, varied, and very special.

Quote
In two days time, the General's proxy will arrive to take preliminary auditions, and will provide transport for those who show promise. Any who pass these preliminaries, but for whatever reason does not qualify for a position among the Myrmidons, will be sent home with a considerable compensation of coin. The General hopes that such a promise will ensure that anyone who believes they can serve the Kingdom in such a potent and important way will audition, regardless of financial or social standing.

The poster ends with General Daxin's formal signature, immediately alongside his informal one; marked with brilliant scarlet ink is a massive hand print, instantly recognizable as the General's by the course paw-pads and dagger-like claws upon three long, dexterous, dangerous fingers and single opposable thumb. It's true that the Sergals had forged peaceful relations with the Kingdom of Nou-Occitan nearly a decade ago, but some still feared Daxin's kind.

Will you show yourself to be unique enough to be worthy of training among the Myrmidons? Will you even be able to look past the General's hide to see the man beneath?

General Sir Farayl Regat Daxin

Fantasy
Male character, seeking any
« Last Edit: June 12, 2016, 07:41:01 PM by TSElephant »

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #2 on: March 23, 2016, 03:00:49 AM »
Character Profiles

On occasion, I find myself inspired to create a character,
often without a significant plot idea or overall story plan attached.
When that happens, I'll plop them down here.


       

Player: TSElephant

Name: Avery Robert Katze

Age: 26

Race: Lynx

Sexual Orientation & Status: Gay(Bi)/Non-Virgin/Single (Is ever so slightly curious about what it's like being with a woman. Could be convinced to give it a try, if promised a gentle, patient, and helping hand.)

Appearance: Avery, a male lynx gifted with female charm, stands at 5'4", with almost enough tail to make an entire other Avery. Very fastidious and clean, he always puts his best effort into looking exactly. Just. Right. This attention to detail and cleanliness often seems to clash with his bubbly, exuberant attitude, as many people seem unaccustomed to seeing a neat-freak wear a brilliant smile nearly 24/7. In fact, it seems as though his cleanliness and focus upon detail doesn't extend far beyond his body, his clothes, and his apartment; his always-perfect pink-dyed hair seems as much at home at a wild party as it does paired with his smart suit when he's at work. Of course, no matter what he's wearing, his outfit is perfect, and it perfectly covers that awful, jagged scar that tears across his back.

Job: Server at almost-5-star restaurant, 'Source Chaude de Montagne.' Years ago, this job would have seemed like a pleasure cruise to him, and ever since he was hired, he's not taken it for granted once.

Personality: At first glance (and the occasional double-take), Avery can seem very, very effeminate, which has scared off plenty of people who find the stereotypical 'flamboyant diva' grating. Anyone who takes the time to actually hear more than a sentence cross his lips will quickly realize that while Avery is confident, outgoing, and will turn into a chatterbox given half a chance, he's even more friendly, attentive, and kind... There's not an ounce of diva in him. (Well... Maybe one ounce. Just don't point out that his name is "Avery Bob Cat," and you'll be just fine.) Despite his overall effervescent personality, there are two things that can shut him up in a heartbeat. Flirt with him, and if he likes you, he'll melt into a puddle of blushes and bashful muttering. Ask the wrong question about his past, and he'll insist that no, he's fine... but he'll be quiet and distant for who knows how long... Five minutes? An hour? The rest of the night?

Alignment: Neutral Good (with a nice, strong Chaotic streak). Nine times out of ten, he's a sweet, gentle guy. But that tenth time, he's either out on a wild night, as happy and crazy as a loose cannon is dangerous, or he's between the sheets, making some poor, lucky soul scream for mercy.

Powers/Abilities:
  • These legs...: ...were made for climbin', and that's just what they'll do. This mountain cat's legs can work a ten hour double-shift at 'Source' and not feel a thing. And if you're lucky, these legs are gonna climb all over you.
  • Night Stalker: With a combination of his ancestry of nocturnal predators and his history of doing unsavory work for unsavory people, Avery's got remarkably keen eyes, fast reflexes, and razor sharp claws and teeth, and he knows how to use them. It's very difficult to get on his bad side, but all the same... Don't.

History:

The journal lies open on the desk, Avery's eyes flicking over the pages, though they're not really reading any of what's written. He's read his own story enough times to know it almost word for word. The handwriting is, for the most part, meticulous and careful, though there are a few spots where the emotion in the writer clearly shows through in shaky letters and words that drift from the lines in the paper. Despite how clean and precise most of it is, and how even the most disorderly text is still legible, the cat still struggles to read it. But he has to. He promised himself that he would.



                                                 
















































                                                                               
















































     I'm writing this down so that I can be sure never to forget it, and to be sure that time doesn't warp or weaken the memory.

     Four years ago, my mother walked in on me while I was with another man. She was supposed to be on her way to the airport. I was stupid, and had made the hormone-fueled, impatient decision to start with Jacob before I was sure she wouldn't return to collect something she'd forgotten. That's how she found out I was gay. I was 17 and a senior in high school when she kicked me out. I dropped out of school and made my way to Zootopia as quickly as I could. 'Where anyone can be anything,' right? Despite what had happened, I was at least cautiously optimistic about my prospects.

     No one wanted to hire a homeless, faggoty, 17 year old high school dropout. Within a year, I was selling my body on the street so that I had enough cash to buy myself food, a shitty apartment, and nighthowler snuff. Needed to eat, needed to have shelter, and needed to distract myself from my thoughts and stay energized enough for the next client. Wasn't living, so much as surviving. Don't know what else I could've done, but there were probably other options. Stupid. Regret it.

     A golden eagle saved my life by trying to end it. I should have seen the warning signs. He'd rambled on about his insane little twisted notions... Something about how being the first to do something wasn't nearly so impressive as being the last, like... 'buying the first toy as it hits the shelf is satisfying. Buying the last one, the only one that still exists, is glorious.' I just nodded along and said what he wanted to hear, too hopped up on nighthowler to care. Just as he finished, still out of breath, still inside, he muttered something like 'I'll be the last one that ever takes you,' and slashed me across the back with a knife. I was smart enough to keep my pepper spray within arms reach, but too stupid to remember that avians are immune to capsaicin. No effect. Thank god I was ripped out of my mind on drugs, or I wouldn't have been able to fight back as well as I did. There's a gap in my memory (whether it's because of my injuries or the drugs, I'm not sure), between a few seconds into defending myself and waking up in the hospital. Apparently, I'd been found just outside the ER, laying atop the eagle after carrying him halfway across town, having collapsed from blood loss.

     I was charged not guilty of murder due to a successful self-defense plea. Then, Zootopia finally showed me what it had to offer when, instead of putting me away for drug possession, they put me in rehab, and instead of just letting me walk out with nowhere to go, they'd helped me find a job and put me in a half-way house. During that time I had to make regular visits to ZPD, and ended up getting to know Officer Clawhauser better than I'd known anyone else since my arrival in Zootopia (which isn't saying much, but it's saying something). He saw how I was improving, how I was learning to function again, and he saw what I could be. He put in a few good words for me with his friend, the owner of a reasonably well-known restaurant. That's how I came to be the only employee of Source Chaude de Montagne with a criminal record.

     Now, a year and a half later, I have a stable income, a job I enjoy, a not quite so shitty apartment, and my GED. This is what I came to this city for, and I'm finally finding it.

Avery Katze
October 3rd, 2012



Avery's quivering hand wipes tears away from his cheeks. He falls back against his desk chair, eyes clamped shut, hands clenched against the armrests for a moment as he allows himself to feel his emotions, rather than simply push them away. Finally, he fills his chest with a deep breath, leans forward, and turns the page.



                                                 









                                                                               









~Plans to Make Avery Awesome Again~
  • Remember what it's like to enjoy sex
  • Learn to take pride in your appearance beyond your sex appeal
  • Learn to judge your worth by your own standards, not by how much you can sell yourself for
  • Learn to be habitually clean
  • Save $5,000
  • Enroll in further education (trade school or college)


With a soft smile, tears still in his eyes, Avery looks at the list of goals he'd made for himself nearly four years ago. It's taken a long time, but finally, he crosses off the last item. A wash of pride rises up within him, leaving him beaming as he settles back into his chair once more, fingers laced behind his head. He's known for some time now that he has value, that he's good for something, that he brings something of importance to the world. But now... Now, Avery from four years ago would be proud. He'd be proud of just how awesome he turned out to be.

Player likes: For Avery specifically, I would simply love the opportunity to put his gentle and attentive nature to good use in the bedroom. I'm sure he'd be flattered beyond belief if someone invited him to be their first foray into gay sex. And if anyone wanted to take him by the hand and show him the wonders of women, that would be an exceptional delight. Aside from that, I'll just drop my On's&Off's here for anyone who's curious.

Player dislikes: Pretty much what's in my On's&Off's, though if I'm in the right mood with the right partner, I can be pretty flexible. If you've got something particular in mind, I'm all ears.
« Last Edit: June 13, 2016, 11:08:02 PM by TSElephant »

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #3 on: April 01, 2016, 02:18:12 PM »
Updated my older prompts' statuses, and added the "Schwartzchild-Kugelblitz" prompt. Yay, my first sci-fi prompt on Elliquiy! :D

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #4 on: April 07, 2016, 12:51:40 PM »
Updated with clarifications to "schwartzchild-kugelblitz," as well as performing a bit of clean up and applying some polish.

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #5 on: April 11, 2016, 06:02:24 PM »
Reordered the prompts, edited wording and phrasing for clarity, edited layout for cleanliness, changed open and closed statuses for prompts.

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #6 on: April 13, 2016, 04:39:00 PM »
Added the "Reality is Stranger than Fiction" prompt. Show Aurelius some love! <3

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #7 on: April 16, 2016, 01:24:05 AM »
Updated with clarified, more consistent formatting, as well as fresh open/closed statuses.

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #8 on: April 16, 2016, 08:59:19 PM »
Added "Anomalous Gravitation."

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #9 on: April 22, 2016, 08:06:16 PM »
Updated with a new section for image-only prompts.

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #10 on: April 27, 2016, 04:37:59 PM »
Updated with "The Gift of New Experiences."

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #11 on: April 27, 2016, 08:51:40 PM »
Added the "Different Drum" prompt.

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's List o' Prompts (Open to all!)
« Reply #12 on: May 14, 2016, 11:15:43 PM »
Added "The Chill of Brokenness."

Offline TSElephantTopic starter

  • ~~ Not a Human ~~ Sneezes are quite similar to orgasms, aren't they?
  • Liege
  • Bacchae
  • *
  • Join Date: Aug 2014
  • Location: The TWERK ZONE
  • Both, if they're good, are loud and messy.
  • My Role Play Preferences
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 1
Re: TSE's Terrifically Titillating Titles (Open to all!)
« Reply #13 on: May 15, 2016, 03:52:59 PM »
Dramatically updated overall layout. Added new "PlotLite" category, cleaned up formatting, etc.