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Hi, I'm Cori! I've been here a long time and roleplayed even longer. I can sometimes be sparse dues to being chronically ill but ideally I could write till the sun comes up! I love drama, violence, and darker themes.
At the moment my writing speed is about a reply every 1-3 days after setup, but I'm trying to do more often. I have been dropping out for a week or so often due to symptom flares, unfortunately. I'm learning to read myself better so I can give heads ups. My preferred length is around 2-4 paragraphs, especially since shorter replies make it easier for me to write through brain fog, though we can write a shit ton if you want.
I love violence, as said above! There's just about nothing that can be done to make me uncomfortable. Just stay away from paraphilias and we're good!
No fandoms. I'm good with being suggested other plots but only original character ones. Anything with monsters or killers will probably be loved by me!
I'm craving monster roles atm. Subs or doms, I'm not picky, though I'm craving a sub role or two. My kinks are noncon, drugging, blackmail/coercion/threats, bondage, crossdressing (especially forced), sensory play, breath play, marking (branding, scarring, biting, etc), piercing, gangbang or forced to fuck someone/something while the other watches or aids, sex toys, and orgasm denial. Basically I just love power imbalance. Boundaries are play with bodily waste, pet play, paraphilias, and inflation.
At the moment my writing speed is about a reply every 1-3 days after setup, but I'm trying to do more often. I have been dropping out for a week or so often due to symptom flares, unfortunately. I'm learning to read myself better so I can give heads ups. My preferred length is around 2-4 paragraphs, especially since shorter replies make it easier for me to write through brain fog, though we can write a shit ton if you want.
I love violence, as said above! There's just about nothing that can be done to make me uncomfortable. Just stay away from paraphilias and we're good!
No fandoms. I'm good with being suggested other plots but only original character ones. Anything with monsters or killers will probably be loved by me!
I'm craving monster roles atm. Subs or doms, I'm not picky, though I'm craving a sub role or two. My kinks are noncon, drugging, blackmail/coercion/threats, bondage, crossdressing (especially forced), sensory play, breath play, marking (branding, scarring, biting, etc), piercing, gangbang or forced to fuck someone/something while the other watches or aids, sex toys, and orgasm denial. Basically I just love power imbalance. Boundaries are play with bodily waste, pet play, paraphilias, and inflation.
Muse A had always been healthy. He’d always been safe. Recently, though, his luck began to change. At first it was inconspicuous: dreams at night where he was held by something he couldn’t see - something deeply comforting yet instinctually unsettling. He didn’t pay it any mind until his energy levels were affected. Turns out he had sleep apnea - he’d stopped breathing and been on the verge of dying countless times in his sleep every night. He went with surgery to fix it.
It was supposed to be a routine little thing, and he was in perfectly good health for it, so nobody expected him to just suddenly go into shock during the ordeal. He made it through, though.
Then he got a fucking infection. Antibiotics didn’t work! It’s like the universe wanted him dead. Just as he was going to the E.R. for something stronger, a drunk driver sped past a red light.
Lights and voices flashed in and out. “Oh god, what have I done!” “Secure his neck!” “Prep O.R. stat!” “We’re losing him!”
He was so fucking lucky he’d been right outside the hospital. They kept him just barely alive. At least, he assumed he was alive. He woke somewhere dark, greeted by the voice of someone he couldn’t quite see. As dread set in, he realized something: none of his troubles had been bad luck. Death himself had wanted him.
It was supposed to be a routine little thing, and he was in perfectly good health for it, so nobody expected him to just suddenly go into shock during the ordeal. He made it through, though.
Then he got a fucking infection. Antibiotics didn’t work! It’s like the universe wanted him dead. Just as he was going to the E.R. for something stronger, a drunk driver sped past a red light.
Lights and voices flashed in and out. “Oh god, what have I done!” “Secure his neck!” “Prep O.R. stat!” “We’re losing him!”
He was so fucking lucky he’d been right outside the hospital. They kept him just barely alive. At least, he assumed he was alive. He woke somewhere dark, greeted by the voice of someone he couldn’t quite see. As dread set in, he realized something: none of his troubles had been bad luck. Death himself had wanted him.
Muse A was surprised to hear a sudden commotion outside his tent. The general sighed and pinched his nose before he went to see what it was. He was expecting a small scuffle, probably private Emory picking fights he couldn’t finish again. It wasn’t Emory this time, though. It was barely even a fight. What he saw was a few cadets dragging a girl, naked and dripping like she’d just been bathing in the river, by her elbows and hair.
“What is the meaning of all this?” His voice was stern, demanding order and respect. His men didn’t let the girl go to salute and stand at attention as they should. “We found a traitor, sir! Private First Class Muse B! He isn’t a he; she forged her papers and tricked us!” Muse B? He hadn’t even recognized him like that. How? He’d been amongst them so long. He himself had changed with him once or twice. Well, the painful looking marks around B’s torso suggested less than healthy binding. No wonder the guy was always so out of breath.
Before he could say anything, the crowd was already rallying for execution. Muse B broke free of one set of hands with a grunt. “You want a man? My breasts offend you that much? Fine, this is long overdue anyway!” No one would’ve guessed what came next. Muse B grabbed the tactical knife off one of the men’s belts and raised it up, slicing right into his chest. In a matter of a minute, a blob of fat and tissue plummeted to the ground, leaving a large open wound with skin hanging over it from the less than clean cut. He’d just dug into the second when one of the men finally snapped out of the shock of it all and planted the butt of his riffle firmly against B’s skull.
Muse A finally raised his voice, calling the group off the mutilated body. He ordered everyone involved to drill immediately as he rushed B off to the medic’s tent.
“What is the meaning of all this?” His voice was stern, demanding order and respect. His men didn’t let the girl go to salute and stand at attention as they should. “We found a traitor, sir! Private First Class Muse B! He isn’t a he; she forged her papers and tricked us!” Muse B? He hadn’t even recognized him like that. How? He’d been amongst them so long. He himself had changed with him once or twice. Well, the painful looking marks around B’s torso suggested less than healthy binding. No wonder the guy was always so out of breath.
Before he could say anything, the crowd was already rallying for execution. Muse B broke free of one set of hands with a grunt. “You want a man? My breasts offend you that much? Fine, this is long overdue anyway!” No one would’ve guessed what came next. Muse B grabbed the tactical knife off one of the men’s belts and raised it up, slicing right into his chest. In a matter of a minute, a blob of fat and tissue plummeted to the ground, leaving a large open wound with skin hanging over it from the less than clean cut. He’d just dug into the second when one of the men finally snapped out of the shock of it all and planted the butt of his riffle firmly against B’s skull.
Muse A finally raised his voice, calling the group off the mutilated body. He ordered everyone involved to drill immediately as he rushed B off to the medic’s tent.
•I want to play the harpy
Little is known about harpies. They nest far from human civilization, under heavy cover and guard. They migrate with birds, though said migrations can rarely be tracked for they're smart enough to never go the same route twice in a row. Their diet is varied, with occasional reports of sightings of individuals catching fish or swooping down on fruiting trees, likely similar to early humans though it's mostly speculation. Language is assumed, though confirmation of it is widely regarded as only rumored and has never been translated. That is to say: they're an enigma every biologist is intrigued by. The one thing that's known for certain, without any doubt or exception, is that they're social. Flocks as big as thirty have been reported, never under five.
Secretive, skittish, territorial, social: all of this made it all the odder when a camp ground shut down because of a harpy report. It'd been known to happen once or twice that a new camp ground unknowingly intruded on harpy territory and was violently reclaimed, but this wasn't that kind of situation. The camp ground was old. The harpy was alone. Alone, that was, save for an egg.
The camp ground closed to give the harpy enough time for the egg to hatch. It never did. It rotted, and the harpy left only long enough to dispose of it and return with more nesting material. The harpy laid another egg, and the camp stayed closed. One egg turned to two, two turned to five, and the harpy dedicated to an infertile nest grew malnourished from the toll it took on a body he was too busy to feed. For concern of the monster's health, a wildlife sanctuary was called.
Little is known about harpies. They nest far from human civilization, under heavy cover and guard. They migrate with birds, though said migrations can rarely be tracked for they're smart enough to never go the same route twice in a row. Their diet is varied, with occasional reports of sightings of individuals catching fish or swooping down on fruiting trees, likely similar to early humans though it's mostly speculation. Language is assumed, though confirmation of it is widely regarded as only rumored and has never been translated. That is to say: they're an enigma every biologist is intrigued by. The one thing that's known for certain, without any doubt or exception, is that they're social. Flocks as big as thirty have been reported, never under five.
Secretive, skittish, territorial, social: all of this made it all the odder when a camp ground shut down because of a harpy report. It'd been known to happen once or twice that a new camp ground unknowingly intruded on harpy territory and was violently reclaimed, but this wasn't that kind of situation. The camp ground was old. The harpy was alone. Alone, that was, save for an egg.
The camp ground closed to give the harpy enough time for the egg to hatch. It never did. It rotted, and the harpy left only long enough to dispose of it and return with more nesting material. The harpy laid another egg, and the camp stayed closed. One egg turned to two, two turned to five, and the harpy dedicated to an infertile nest grew malnourished from the toll it took on a body he was too busy to feed. For concern of the monster's health, a wildlife sanctuary was called.
In a world where super powers are common, there's always a downside. Fliers need special suits to steer and prevent themselves from just spinning and bumbling about uncontrollably. Repeated use of laser eyes damage the sight slowly over time.
Muse A? Well, he was a successful thief who could turn invisible. The downside? It didn't work on clothes, of course. It was embarrassing at first, but he got comfortable with taking advantage of his powers very quickly.
His most recent target was a rich guy that was powerless, or at least he assumed that. The guy was nothing special: in fact, he was pathetic, constantly stumbling into people and objects. Turns out the guy had heat vision, which of course didn't lend well to seeing objects or depth perception. It did, however, lend amazingly to catching an invisible man boldly robbing his house in the nude.
Muse A? Well, he was a successful thief who could turn invisible. The downside? It didn't work on clothes, of course. It was embarrassing at first, but he got comfortable with taking advantage of his powers very quickly.
His most recent target was a rich guy that was powerless, or at least he assumed that. The guy was nothing special: in fact, he was pathetic, constantly stumbling into people and objects. Turns out the guy had heat vision, which of course didn't lend well to seeing objects or depth perception. It did, however, lend amazingly to catching an invisible man boldly robbing his house in the nude.
Muse A wasn't the best cop when if came to confrontations or keeping his cool, but he was damn good at picking locks and disabling bombs. That's why he was at a location thought to be a dealing place for a volatile gang. Human trafficking, drug dealing, hell knows what'd happened there; that's why he genuinely panicked when he heard a kid crying. All of his training flew out the window as he opened the door it was coming from; it was a trap.
Before he knew it, the side of his body closest to the door erupted in searing pain. When he woke up, he couldn't see. He couldn't walk - at least not without a shit ton of painkillers and help. His body was covered in burns. However, he was alive - that hadn't been the plan. Someone would have to take care of him; they'd make sure he wouldn't go blabbing about anything he might've seen or heard.
Before he knew it, the side of his body closest to the door erupted in searing pain. When he woke up, he couldn't see. He couldn't walk - at least not without a shit ton of painkillers and help. His body was covered in burns. However, he was alive - that hadn't been the plan. Someone would have to take care of him; they'd make sure he wouldn't go blabbing about anything he might've seen or heard.
A case came in one night: a poor soul found slouched against a dumpster in dire need of a rape kit. No evidence. Lube - from a condom, assumably, though none were found. Poor guy wasn't even roofied, but he hadn't seen a face.
Oh well, that's just how the world works sometimes.
Then one case turned to two. Two turned to five. Muse A was the only one who could handle hearing all of them - more accurately, he was the only one always around when they came in, considering he couldn't go on patrol due to a injury he got on duty. He felt like a monster when his mind began wandering to unprofessional questions. Did the perpetrator try to make them cum? What was his voice like? How rough were his hands? What did it feel like? No one could tap him out of this hell - hoping there wouldn't be another victim then cursing himself and everything else when he had to listen to their account with a poker face.
Well, one night he got his wish for freedom from the cycle: he was healed up enough to patrol… and the guy who would otherwise be doing it in one of the quieter areas had called off sick. It was the perfect opportunity for him to get back to it, so his chief reluctantly let him go. He should've just stayed on desk duty; just as he was thinking how the rapist should've been caught by now, he found the scene of the next crime in action.
Oh well, that's just how the world works sometimes.
Then one case turned to two. Two turned to five. Muse A was the only one who could handle hearing all of them - more accurately, he was the only one always around when they came in, considering he couldn't go on patrol due to a injury he got on duty. He felt like a monster when his mind began wandering to unprofessional questions. Did the perpetrator try to make them cum? What was his voice like? How rough were his hands? What did it feel like? No one could tap him out of this hell - hoping there wouldn't be another victim then cursing himself and everything else when he had to listen to their account with a poker face.
Well, one night he got his wish for freedom from the cycle: he was healed up enough to patrol… and the guy who would otherwise be doing it in one of the quieter areas had called off sick. It was the perfect opportunity for him to get back to it, so his chief reluctantly let him go. He should've just stayed on desk duty; just as he was thinking how the rapist should've been caught by now, he found the scene of the next crime in action.
Never got to use him unfortunately, so I figure I’ll put him here in case anyone likes him
Name: Abel Barke
Age: 21
Height: 5’6
No one would tell by looking at him that Abel was a preacher’s child. He was the preacher’s problem child. As a toddler he was wild, as a child he was a troublemaker, as a teen - a queer. He was a disgrace, and so he was sent away. Therapy, they called it, though it felt anything but.
He hadn’t even known when his 18th birthday had passed. As soon as he knew he could legally run away, though - as soon as he got the chance - he snuck out. An old church on top of a hill, terribly isolated from its point of view, but in reality he was in town by sunrise. It was small, though. There was no homeless shelter. He had no bus money. The pastor would track him down soon enough, and that’s how a desperate kid found himself taking an offer from the first sleaze bag that drove by. That’s how he ended up not seeing the light of day again for 3 years. Worst of all: that’s how he ended up dead in a dumpster.
Name: Abel Barke
Age: 21
Height: 5’6
No one would tell by looking at him that Abel was a preacher’s child. He was the preacher’s problem child. As a toddler he was wild, as a child he was a troublemaker, as a teen - a queer. He was a disgrace, and so he was sent away. Therapy, they called it, though it felt anything but.
He hadn’t even known when his 18th birthday had passed. As soon as he knew he could legally run away, though - as soon as he got the chance - he snuck out. An old church on top of a hill, terribly isolated from its point of view, but in reality he was in town by sunrise. It was small, though. There was no homeless shelter. He had no bus money. The pastor would track him down soon enough, and that’s how a desperate kid found himself taking an offer from the first sleaze bag that drove by. That’s how he ended up not seeing the light of day again for 3 years. Worst of all: that’s how he ended up dead in a dumpster.
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