AzureSpark
Serf
- Local time
- Today 7:09 AM
- Messages
- 2
- Age
- 33
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Greetings! It is a pleasure to have you visiting my request thread!
(updated 9/7/26)
I enjoy turmoil, drama (with some good plot to make it feel real), and realistic consequences even if it is in an unrealistic world. Stories need a good mix of different elements to make it worth the adventure.
I have been writing since around 2004 or so? Role play, Fanfiction, and now my own stories have occupied my time for all those years. I would like to imagine my grammar and spelling are up to par, but please forgive me if I slip up now and again. Sometimes my brain runs faster than my fingers can keep up!
My mix of smut vs story is variable but I cannot have a mindless romp. At the bare minimum a 20:80 plot smut mix. Any more than that and I will become bored to tears.
I am open to nearly every fantasy creature there is so long as they either are humanoid or have a humanoid form. So shape shifters who occasionally rock a full body dragon? Fantastic. They have to have a human face though. I can't really get behind snouts. A tail, animal ears, scales, unique eyes, hell, even a couple of fins tossed on to the human form is fine. If unsure, please ask.
I work full time during the day. I am most active from 7:30 pm to around 12:30 am EST. I respond to PM's relatively quickly as I do have alerts set up to go to my email.
If at any point and time I need a break, I will reach out and message you directly. I ask for the same courtesy.
Also for ease of access, here is an example of my writing style to check if it is one you'd like before you delve too deep.
Boston; a city wrapped in history and coated with speckles of the modern. Pock marked by its past and further still by its future had left the metropolitan landscape in a constant state of change. It also begrudgingly caused it to be a hot bed for tourism during the summer months.
"Come on!" A shout bellowed. The upward tick in volume was directed at the breast bone of a well dressed unwilling participant. Said gentleman sighed as he put a hand to his ear to rub away the ringing from the unwelcome guest who did not know his place.
"This is a private residence, regardless of how historic." The comment was chased by an exasperated sigh. Red faced and self righteous, the rotund man who was being chastised arched a stubby finger up and jabbed it into the bend of the tan vest of the owner of the property.
"This house is part of the North End and is on our list of places to see!" Flecks of spit sputtered from portly lips, the moist droplets splattering about. Calmly, the dark haired local took a step back to avoid being sprayed by more of the impromptu germ shower. Even being berated, the docile expression did not leave his face.
"No one is preventing you from viewing the exterior. Feel free to take as many pictures as you like." There came a crack in the persona of pleasantness, the arched smile twitching as the effort to force a placid look became too much to bear. He raised the keys he still held in hand that he had intended to use to unlock the gate that lead to his home.
"But if you dare try to step foot into my home, I will shatter your kneecaps and sink your entire family to the bottom of the Charles." Said words were spoken with a delicate tone, as if one were casually discussing the weather and not the murder of a rude tourist, his two prattling children who had yet to shut up about being bored, and a woman who exuded an air of entitlement.
It took a few seconds for the words to pierce through the gunk that clogged the hefty balding man's brain. Initially the reaction was flummoxed. Sputters of sound, the kind an engine struggling to start would make, was the response. After the empty head managed to form a cognitive sentence, the man managed to open his mouth with a face so red, one might think he was due to pop.
Nothing spilled. The coming ravings turned to lead and suctioned the color right out of him, quivering mud eyes wide as saucer plates. The upset in mood was from the local who simple stood as he had been spare for the breast of his his earth colored vest being pulled back, revealing a gun holstered.
"I ask that you be on your way." What had been misconstrued before as a gentle voice of a push over was now heard for what it was; the calm of a man who was not concerned with drawing blood should he be pushed. Reality slapped the bovine of a man. A few fumbled steps back had him running rump first into his presumed wife who had been idly chatting on her phone about some mundane subject. It was clear by the moron's reaction that even fools could eventually be made aware of their own mistakes.
"L-L-Let's get going," The tourist stammered, his spitting coming back as he more or less shoved the group with him down the street.
And so left the owner of the home along in the street before the gate that let him onto his property.
"The nerve of some people," He spoke with exasperation. He set his vest back in place to hide his weapon of choice before turning to unlock his entryway. The key nary kissed the lock before he paused, realizing he had forgotten to stop someplace on his way home.
"Of course! The bread!" The meal for the evening was French onion soup. Fresh produce from his own garden had been picked and prepped. However, what was a soup without a good a couple of fresh Ciabatta bread slices? He knew just the place to pick some up the freshest in all of the North End, and most likely all of Boston. An about face on his heel and a swift pocketing of his keys had him heading back up the hill he had walked down from. He took a leisurely stroll, turning right on Salem street. Three or so minutes deposited him in front of his favorite bakery in all the world; Fiorentino.
"Come on!" A shout bellowed. The upward tick in volume was directed at the breast bone of a well dressed unwilling participant. Said gentleman sighed as he put a hand to his ear to rub away the ringing from the unwelcome guest who did not know his place.
"This is a private residence, regardless of how historic." The comment was chased by an exasperated sigh. Red faced and self righteous, the rotund man who was being chastised arched a stubby finger up and jabbed it into the bend of the tan vest of the owner of the property.
"This house is part of the North End and is on our list of places to see!" Flecks of spit sputtered from portly lips, the moist droplets splattering about. Calmly, the dark haired local took a step back to avoid being sprayed by more of the impromptu germ shower. Even being berated, the docile expression did not leave his face.
"No one is preventing you from viewing the exterior. Feel free to take as many pictures as you like." There came a crack in the persona of pleasantness, the arched smile twitching as the effort to force a placid look became too much to bear. He raised the keys he still held in hand that he had intended to use to unlock the gate that lead to his home.
"But if you dare try to step foot into my home, I will shatter your kneecaps and sink your entire family to the bottom of the Charles." Said words were spoken with a delicate tone, as if one were casually discussing the weather and not the murder of a rude tourist, his two prattling children who had yet to shut up about being bored, and a woman who exuded an air of entitlement.
It took a few seconds for the words to pierce through the gunk that clogged the hefty balding man's brain. Initially the reaction was flummoxed. Sputters of sound, the kind an engine struggling to start would make, was the response. After the empty head managed to form a cognitive sentence, the man managed to open his mouth with a face so red, one might think he was due to pop.
Nothing spilled. The coming ravings turned to lead and suctioned the color right out of him, quivering mud eyes wide as saucer plates. The upset in mood was from the local who simple stood as he had been spare for the breast of his his earth colored vest being pulled back, revealing a gun holstered.
"I ask that you be on your way." What had been misconstrued before as a gentle voice of a push over was now heard for what it was; the calm of a man who was not concerned with drawing blood should he be pushed. Reality slapped the bovine of a man. A few fumbled steps back had him running rump first into his presumed wife who had been idly chatting on her phone about some mundane subject. It was clear by the moron's reaction that even fools could eventually be made aware of their own mistakes.
"L-L-Let's get going," The tourist stammered, his spitting coming back as he more or less shoved the group with him down the street.
And so left the owner of the home along in the street before the gate that let him onto his property.
"The nerve of some people," He spoke with exasperation. He set his vest back in place to hide his weapon of choice before turning to unlock his entryway. The key nary kissed the lock before he paused, realizing he had forgotten to stop someplace on his way home.
"Of course! The bread!" The meal for the evening was French onion soup. Fresh produce from his own garden had been picked and prepped. However, what was a soup without a good a couple of fresh Ciabatta bread slices? He knew just the place to pick some up the freshest in all of the North End, and most likely all of Boston. An about face on his heel and a swift pocketing of his keys had him heading back up the hill he had walked down from. He took a leisurely stroll, turning right on Salem street. Three or so minutes deposited him in front of his favorite bakery in all the world; Fiorentino.
What to expect from me:
A bit about myself to see how we may match.
What I expect from you:
For a partner I ask the following please.
A bit about myself to see how we may match.
- I try to reply frequently but life does get in the way. If you don't hear anything from me in over a week, feel free to shoot me a message!
- I only write in third person unless the story briefly calls for otherwise.
- I am a multiple paragraphs to novela poster. The only time this may languish if there is a conversation or fight scene. Even then I will do my best!
- My goal is to enrich the story with as many details as I can.
- I am not a fan of slice of life or comedy. They can be a part of the story, but not the only element. I will be bored by these.
- I do not shy away from darker subjects. Despite the f-list set up of having things listed as "kinks", it's for me a plot device. Please check the spoiler below for some examples of what I am referring to.
Mental health such as suicide, self harm, and depression. Rape, abuse, and drugs are also allowed. All of these subjects will be treated with respect and care. If unsure on this, please ask.
What I expect from you:
For a partner I ask the following please.
- I value communication above all else. If there is an issue with the story please tell me. Do you have an idea, a suggestion, a need to take a break? Please Let me know.
- Multiple paragraphs is my minimum requirement (unless there is a conversation or fight scene happening. I respect that things can be difficult with length). Even still, no one liners.
- I ask that you are willing to contribute to the plot. Throw surprise curve balls at me, discuss where we want the story to go, and help world build.
- Be respectful. While your characters can be the scum of the earth, do not embody that out of role play.
You have now arrives at the meat of this thread. This section will be fluid and updated as I go. This is also not an end all be all list. If you have an idea, I welcome you to share it!
Pairings:
I am willing to play either role in these.
- Hero X villain
- dragon X human (NEW)
- Addict X friend trying to help them be sober
- Species A X Species B that are forbidden to mix.
- Alien X human
- Criminal X straight laced
- gay X totally doesn't realize they're gay
- totally doesn't realize they're gay X totally doesn't realize they're gay
- Enemy X Enemy
- nobility X peasant
- Kidnapper X kidnapped
Here are a few plot ideas. My present interests are masked with "~~~". If a plot is taken, I will mark as such.
Some example plots:
Deep in the throws of the wilderness stands a kingdom laid under siege by the might of a curse. The cracked stone walls house a royal family grasping at anything to stay alive. Surrounding them are the remnants of once lush farmland and forests teaming with game. Now their land has been reduced to a tundra of despair. The bane upon the earth was thrust onto the kingdom by the actions of greed and vengeance.
Decades prior, a peasants daughter sought out the power beyond the forest that rimmed the lands. To the mountains she had traveled, her trail blazed by a rumor that a being of great power could alter her fate. Escaping into the eves of the peaks, she came across what she had yearned for. A wizard, perhaps Fae, or even a demon, bore the ability to do what she desired.
Her request was to be granted the heart of the eldest prince who she had loved dearly from afar. The magic wielder agreed to her request. Her payment would be to bear his child and raise it until it was weaning. When the time came, she was to deliver the infant to him.
She agreed and was wed to the prince under the heirs demands and the beings influence. Propelled into royalty and secured through marriage, she was to live a life she had only dreamed of in the arms of the man she loved.
Her life of wonder was not to be. Unrest settled into the kingdom at a peasant being allotted a place within the royal circle. The younger of the heirs, an embittered prince with little hope to succeed the thrown, saw this as an opportunity to grab power from his father and brother both. A coup was hatched in the shadows as the queen to be grew heavy with the child she bore. The time came for the malice to be released the night the queen gave birth to a healthy boy.
Under the shroud of darkness, the act was set forth. The younger of the brothers slipped into the bed chamber of his sleeping brother and wife to murder his elder with a poison blade. The act had been completed only moments before to his own father who now lay dead by the hand of one of many of his supporters. Elsewhere in the nursery, a wet nurse promised her weight in gold and a place on the thrown was to use a copy of the blade to do away with the heir born. In turn, the prince who lusted for power would frame the unfit wife as the murdered, securing his path to power.
The plan laid was not to be. Upon burying the blade into what he hoped would be the heart of his brother, the man awoke and screamed, waking his wife. The strike had missed its mark by catching in the bone. Though the wound would be lethal, it would not come instantly.
Her husbands distress and her own screams gathered the guards who came to see what treachery at hand. The younger prince, having been seen, made his escaped. The wet nurse, hearing the commotion thrust down her blade to end the child and flee to gain her spoils. By the magic of his lineage, the infant bore no mark as the weapon bounded off him. Struck through with fear of being caught within her act, she stole away the child from his crib into the night. From the wall of the castle, she tossed the child into the moat and vanished to find her coconspirator for her reward.
The horror of the night left the now ruler of the kingdom to be widowed and with a child she presumed dead. The treason of the youngest prince became known when the wet nurse was captured. She told the tale of her and her rulers actions in hopes of her life being spared. The woman was put to death and an order issued to the kingdom that the head of the betrayer be delivered to the castle door. While the culprit of the act had been outed, the damage had been done. The light of the queen had been snuffed away and chilled to a loathing that embittered her soul. Her only goal became vengeance for what was stolen from her.
Her rage embroiled her and set forth an army to slaughter any who supported the prince and his goals, the kingdom being torn in two by the separate factions.
--------
Unbeknownst to her, the child she had birthed was not yet dead. Protected by the power of the person he had been promised to, he survived past the hell of a watery grave. The very night of the prince's birth, another boy was born.
A woman on the same fateful evening had given birth in the dirt. Her first born was sired out of wedlock to a man married to another. A merchant who had promised his hand in marriage to her. When she came forth with the child she birthed the man who had claimed to love her cast away the infant into the waters of the river that rimmed the castle as a moat to hide his infidelity. Overcome with grief, the mother intended to drown herself in the same waters of the river that took her son.
When to her waist the sounds of a crying newborn saved her. She came to the infant and thought it to be her own somehow alive and entangled in the weeds. She took the child and left the castle walls and horror of the night behind.
Two years of blood shed past before the unknown prince was weaned and the deal was to be fulfilled by the vengeance consumed queen. Her promise was not met, and in turn, the devastation of the land deepened from civil war to an unyielding winter.
---------
Now, eighteen years beyond the calling of the promise to be met, the land lay trapped. The queen rules over a fragmented kingdom festering in starvation and death.
The only hope to undo what has been done is the lost prince.
This story would take place with the lost prince (MC) being twenty years old. This is a background for a setting. What the story entails is completely open to interpretation.
The world is not what we think it is. We are told only the few are extraordinary. The people who can run Olympic races, those who can dive meters underwater in a single breath, people able to climb a cliff with their bare hands; they are what shows the upper human limits. They graze a glass ceiling we may never surpass. That is what we have been taught our whole lives.
What if we were lied to?
What if we were lied to?
YC(your character) will be new to a city a ways away from where they grew up. They wind up being followed by some people who intend to mug them and MC(My character) walks them to a gas station for safety, thus starting them getting to know one another. As the story goes on, more is revealed about MC not being all that he appears. YC can have plenty of secrets too. In fact, I encourage it!
This will have a super human element to it. I figure it can grow organically based on how the world is developed as we write.
In the year 3400, we are a conglomerate of subservient entities. Pods, The Overseers will programmed into our bar code, dictate what we eat, what we do, what we see, and what we think. We are an expendable renewable resource. We are bred, worked, then we die. That is the life of everyone who lives in the bottom levels where there is no place lower to go. Above, stretching skyward, we can see the ships pass. People, born out of this servitude, live without caring we even exist. People find their way down when they're marked as criminals to serve their life sentences. No one really knows what it's like not to be down here. We're not allowed to remember if we weren't born here. We don't know who was born here and who came down. We all eventually forget.
Until today...when I remembered.
Until today...when I remembered.
MC would be a person who lives in the lower levels as a worker. He would be doing a job when something or other (Which can be discussed plot wise) allows him to have his Pod disabled. The story follows from there and what will come of it. I would like to believe this gives allot of room for you to have YC be who ever you want them to be.
MC (or YC if you want to bottom) is a collage student who is unaware of the world around him. Shy to a certain degree and unversed in the world of parties and what comes with it. MC gets drunk at a college party.
MC gets raped. MxM for clarification reasons. I will bottom this plot or if need be I can top if the roles are switched.
He spends the next few months disassociating the event as his at large assailant continues to live free and causes more harm to him. Heavy marks of mental health. All will be handled with care!
My F-List
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