Quixtwix
Certified Taco Addict
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Howdy!
I'm Quixtwix, Quix for short. I am a literate writing currently majoring in history with plans to teach the subject in the near future. Which, if you know anything about history majors, it's a guarantee that I know how to:
A) Write excessively
B) Participate in self-torture and enjoy it
I've been writing since I was a wee anklebiter and have taken up rping in the past few years. If there's one thing about me that's obvious, I love to create! I also love OOC chatter, especially if we click with terrible humor. Chatting OOC is not a requirement, but is appreciated if you so choose. Here's a few things about me if you wish to throw it into conversation:
[No shit?] History- Vikings, greeks, romans, mongols, latin america, medieval, renaissance- mostly everything pre-ww2 [No shit x2] Writing Art-Digital, traditional, sculpting Reading- Sarah J Maas, Jack London, RIck Riordan, Margaret Atwood, and many, many more Music- Mother Mother, Glass Animals, Ski Mask the Slump God, Childish Gambino, FFDP, Queen, ABBA Video games- For Honor, Minecraft, Kingdom Come: Deliverance, Skyrim, RDR2, Assassin's Creed, Sims, etc
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To say she wasn't sympathetic to this lunatic's current condition would be defined by dishonesty. Though, the kind of sympathy she felt towards him was more on the end of the spectrum, stepping into pity and borderline apathy. To her, it felt like being a mother who had taken up a position from feet away to watch with silent eyes as chaos unfolded. Like a child, Kreios had poked his prying finger into already irritated goose, and then felt surprised when the bird smacked him upside the head and started a reign of terror filled with nips and bites. It was only the logical conclusion to someone who had came up onto the ship claiming they were Kreios, of all the Gods to mimic, especially on a vessel such as this one.
Subtly, her eyebrows raised when the man before her continued to insist that he belonged as a descent to divinity. Tongue-bitten, it took a practiced, stoic face to not bust out laughing until she became teary-eyed. The man had already been humiliated and demeaned enough, even if he sat before her with the most ridiculous preconceived notions she had heard in a while. It wasn't uncommon for her to come across mortals who had it in their head they were one with divinity, bore their child, or better yet acting as a possessed vessel- but, truth was that they would squeal like every other mortal alive if they were skewered. "Eleos." She reiterated rhetorically under her breath, raising a hand and placing it to the blanket hanging off her shoulder. The accusation of her cruelty had her smiling once more, the corners of ambered eyes adorned on a sun-kissed, freckled face crinkling up. "I've done no such thing… and I wouldn't say I pulled you from the water just for that. Now, I like torture much as the next gal, but I've grown a little too tired to waste my time on such fun. I tend to spend my days imagining it instead."
With a humored sigh on her tongue, she leaned down and drew the blanket off her shoulder. "My dog spotted you and it drove him up the damn wall with barking. I wouldn't have done a thing otherwise- do you know how hard it is to spot a body floating in the water from a ship?" The woman drew the blanket over his naked, cold body and tucked it behind his shoulders. Straightening back out, she took back a closed-off stance of crossing her arms. "It was coincidental that I'm one of the few on a ship with the ability to swim and survive the cold, but good luck for you. Played me right into your soft little baby-palms." A small, humorless scoff rolled off her tongue before she pointed her thumb over towards the man who had given Kreios his thrashing. "Besides, sweetheart, you earned your spot against the mast with that one. I am not cruel, you simply just tussled with the wrong man who's already in a sour mood and you need someone to blame." Once more, she crouched down again in front of Kreios, keeping to his level and going eye-to-eye. To be personal, or perhaps it was to tell him directly how things were going to be and that it would not deviate.
"Let me tell you a thing or two about me and the others here. To keep you up to date, or to just warn you… but it won't do you any good to rave your claim that you are Kreios." She nodded with affirmation, "We don't take kindly to lords and masters, as you have figured out. There's nobody we've cursed more than that God, and it's by sheer luck that we're still not standing in front of his statue." For a few seconds, she paused and then shrugged as she headed straight into blasphemy. "You can continue your little power-tripping speech, but I don't believe in nonexistent beings. There is no Gods in this life, especially in the mortal realm. " This time, she did laugh at the situation at hand; a woman who was an atheist, and a mad-man who was having a bout of psychosis in his belief of being one of the pantheon. "I'll give you a couple of suggestions to prolong your life. For one, you need to drop your little act and your supposed name of Kreios if you want Cyclops to feel kind enough to release you from the mast. He won't otherwise, what ex-slave wants to hear that his bitter resentments are coming to haunt him? Not many, I'd figure. I sure don't enjoy it. Perhaps it may do you some good to not act like we're supposed to be kissing the ground you walk on."
The tip of her thumb came up towards her mouth and she pressed the flat of her tongue against the calloused pad of skin. Then, she brought it up against his busted brow and smoothed her thumb over the wound, leaving it closed in it's wake. Afterwards she proceeded to run her hand through his mangled hair like he was a pet in the need of comforting. "I can count the amount of proper, full meals we've had in the past three years on my hand. So, I would watch your behavior… it'd be a shame if Cyclops suggests eating you." A smile adorned her face, entirely elusive in the way that it wasn't exactly placeable if she was joking or serious about the matter. Her hand withdrew from his head and she took a glance around, laughing quietly, "…Funny. Usually this is the part of the mythic where the sailor's blasphemy ends their ship in a storm and wrecked on a beach." Ambered eyes turned back to him again, and she nodded before patting his head again with some persistent need to dominate him a way that wasn't outwardly painful. "Now, let's be good and be respectful, alright? Your ass is mine now."Death, in its physical form, was not an unfamiliar concept to her. Maud's existence centered around the subject of death, and her line of work fed directly into it. With both humans and animals, she was thoroughly experienced, but this felt off. Staring down at this bloodied, naked woman left a strange, atypical feeling stirring in her stomach. Truthfully, it almost felt as if it was wrong to carry forward and continue to help the woman with removal of the arrow, because the woman didn't feel human. The woman felt far more akin to stumbling upon a wounded animal after a poor shot, with the incoming intention to spare a final act of mercy. Something felt more correct in her unconscious mind to take her knife and slit the woman's throat, but her conscious mind kept her levelheaded and sensible. This was not an animal.
Subtly, Maud's head turned to half-way look over her shoulder at the man. Internally, she quickly deemed him as useless- as most men were- and frowned at his sudden mental and physical retreat. Another day she would've had something sharp on her tongue to spit at him for his cowardice, but she was wise enough to not become instigative with someone who had a weapon. So, she turned her head back to the bleeding woman with a quiet, "Fuckwit…" slipping past, under her breath. Silently, she watched this woman enter a struggle to help herself, but Maud could see how useless the endeavor was from her own angle. In the midst of her focus, she hadn't come to the realization that there was, in fact, something very inhuman about this woman.
Instead, she was more keenly attentive to the hope that the man would find himself at the business-end of a switch for wrongfully shooting someone.
Hazel eyes met the suffering, and she was caught off guard by the sudden plead for help. She didn't need Mag's words to see the desperation she was trying to convey, the necessity and desire for the pain to end. Leaning forward again, soft words rolled out of her throat, "Alright, alright… save your words and breathe." A hand reached to the center of her own chest. With a quick flick of her wrist, the wooden toggle holding the furs on her body together. The furs were drawn off and placed on top of the woman like a comforting blanket in an attempt to provide a shield from the chill. Cold was nothing to Maud, and she could handle the nipping bite against the simple clothes underneath. She had to.
After the furs were placed on top of Mag, Maud began to see the woman as animal again out of sheer requisite. To simply disconnect from reality and refuse to acknowledge a human existence- Maud had removed arrows a dozen times over before from carcasses. It was simple, it was easy, and it was then the state of mind to accept the pretend circumstances. Going through the motions, she grabbed onto the shaft of the arrow with her good hand. It was not her dominant hand by any means, but she had long adjusted to using it over her defunct left. The tugging began again, a pull, and then a sudden twist and snap with the breakage of the wooden shaft finally coming.
Thoughtlessly, she discarded the majority of the arrow to the side to be forever forgotten. Maud's left hand rose, and she pressed the tip of one of her good, functional fingers- her index- against the open edge and pulled on the flesh like her skin was a pelt to be disrobed from her muscles. Her other hand worked with the feathers in tandem, edging the flesh open to create a wide enough gap for removal with limited consequences. "Stay with me here…" she coaxed quietly, her fingers pressing inside Mag's body with wet, slick sounds produced by the prodding of oozing gore. With her left hand edging the wound open a little more, her right grabbed onto the arrowhead and pulled with a gush of blood to follow.
If Mag had perceived the removal of the arrow's head as painful, it wasn't anything compared to the excruciating pain that would come from the next step. Maud was keen with her knowledge of anatomy in animals, even more so with the location of the arteries, so she knew very well that there was a chance that the arrow had an unlucky fate of striking the axillary artery. Preemptively to avoid potential bleeding out, her right pressed into the wound so harshly that the artery compressed into the bone and shut from the pressure. Regardless of the situation, the compression was needed to stop the endless flow of blood from the initial wound.
Maud was only acutely aware of the amount of blood tainted on her palms. It was a peculiar, unfamiliar feeling; she was used to bleeding an animal out before cutting them open, and that caused a limited amount of blood to ever sit on her hands. A shaking breath came out of her mouth, one that she wasn't aware that she had been holding, and the taut muscles of her body eased into relaxation while she kept her hand firm on the wound. Hesitantly, she finally raised her gaze to Mag's face and pressed her free hand into the side of her neck, checking to make sure she was still alive and if she was conscious.
A little bit about how I write...
***= Requirement for a partner
- Third person***
- Literate. Provide Substance. 500-1000 words- I like detail. Thoughts, feelings, memories, and actions***
- Responses daily-every 3 days. I need the story to keep going for me to stay interested- I understand shit happens, just give me a little forewarning if you're going ghost for a while. ***
- I main women. They are not pushovers, they are realistic from their body to their aspirations. There is goals involved. I will not play a shallow manic pixie dream girl.
- Ability to create side characters (male and female), with ability to progress the story***
- Flaws. Perfection sux, I like poor personality traits to be sprinkled in. People are not picture perfect***
Yeas
History, Fantasy (Low+High), Romance, Sci-fi, Cyberpunk, Steampunk. I'm willing to try most genres!
Nays
Slice of life, mystery
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Smut
Smut is great. Smut is awesome, but I will not do erotic-based rps. I thoroughly enjoy character connections before sex, and I love a good dose of romance. Good ol' fashioned romping is my favorite, and I play switches and/or dominant women. I cannot play the 100% submissive role.
Tantric Sex
Oral (Giving, Receiving), Foreplay
Vaginal sex (Giving, Receiving)
Consensual
Dirty Talking
Creampie
Realistic cum, anatomically correct bodies
Facial Hair
Body hair
Strap-ons, toys
Kissing, Teasing
Choking
Aphrodisiacs
Begging
Blindfolds, light bondage, choking
Breast Play
Sharp teeth
Pleasure,Orgasm control/denial
Stockings
Spanking
Tattoos
Jealousy/Posessiveness
Sexual Frustration
SomnophiliaNote about rape and incest-Non-con
Dub-con
Adultery
Age-Regression, Ageplay
Ballbusting, Pain to genitals.
Footplay- seriously, no. Feet make me gag
Incest
Necrophilia
Watersports
Scat
Vore
Zoophilia
body harm outside of biting, scratching, bruises, and hickeys
These things happen in real life, that's a given, but it's a no-go for me. Feel free to include them in the rp (if and only if) you don't pull a Stephen King and dedicate chapters to it. Don't glorify it, consent is sexy.
Gore:
I don't mind gore. In fact, I welcome it- I do believe good stories include violence! My few stipulation is that the gore has to have the ability to progress the story (i.e., no gore just for gore's sake) and that it shouldn't be a sexual thing. Otherwise, my limits are nonexistent and it's a rare for me to cringe.
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A few notes:
- I am a very laid back person. Everything I've written down is subject to change if you wish. Feel free to add your own ideas, change, or invent something entirely new.
- Typically, I play women, but I'm comfortable playing as men too. I also love playing side characters and antagonists.
- All plots can be MxF or FxF
- Hate my ideas but like the way I write? Shoot me your own concepts!
The year is 1984.
Aleksandr Solovyov, a man hailing from Khabarovsk, is a person of many faces. A genius, a madman, inventive; whatever you want to call him, it fits the bill. As many before him, he seeks to undo the definitive laws of nature and reverse death. In his little, shitty lab he experiments with his prized possessions, mice. It has taken years upon years of immeasurable failures, but he has finally put humanity into the right direction with the alteration of the RNA inside of a known virus. The once-dead mice were miraculously brought back to life, displaying odd behaviors of agitation. Nevertheless, this was an astounding scientific discovery.
Planning to take some of the mice to share with his colleagues and demonstrate his invention, he takes a flight from Khabarovsk to Moscow. A while into the trip, one of the mice chews its way through it's carrying container and nips a flight attendant during an attempt to catch it. Nothing is thought much of it as the mouse is returned to it's container and the flight carries on. Of course, as you've read already this is a zombie apocalypse, so it ends up very much being a big deal.
In a series of events, the plane ends up against the side of a mountain in ruins. What's left of it is: half the passengers, Aleksandr Solovyov, the fuselage, the mice. Now, here's where several problems lie; the virus is slow acting, it can be transmitted through consuming of the flesh or blood into wounds. In a rush of panic, Solovyov is convinced they absolutely have to get off the mountain and back to his laboratory because it's inevitable more people will be bit if the mice back home are checked on. Which, if you know anything about mountains, will be a real bitch to accomplish.
Notes: Aleksandr won't be my main character. He functions more or less as the good-intentioned antagonist, but he won't be my main operative. Your character(s) can be anything you wish, and obviously doesn't have to be Russian since you don't have to live in Russia to be inside Russia.
These zombies I had in mind are more on the levels of 'Train to Busan' or 'All of us are dead', i.e., fast-paced, vicious zombies who are stuck in rudimentary sense-detection like sound. None of the slow, boring type of zombies.
The story will begin with getting onto the flight, and then the crash will happen from there. Spoiler Alert- the other mice have been discovered by the time they make it off and to 'safety'Hold onto your hats, this one is a little more in depth.
Life on the outside sucks. At least, that's what has been taught, and gazing out the glass confines of their dome-like cage, that seems to be true enough. Outside its a barren wasteland, and there stands the very reason why humanity have found themselves trapped; large, horrific creatures beyond imaginable proportions lurk around. Thankfully, our characters have been locked away safely inside of the dome. Why, or how; that's been lost to history, burnt apart by the government at the very top. The dome is split into six individual levels defined by strict societal classes. From bottom to top:
1) Prison- This is where your dreams come to die, because rehabilitation for crimes is not an existent thing. Here, the people are tortured, beaten, and starved to death in order to face payment for any and all crimes committed. Dug into the ground with virtually no light, it's dark, dreary, and one of the last places you would want to find yourself inside of.
2) The Slums- Drug, alcohol, and rat-infested. Lowest of the low in 'free society', and options to rise above their level are limited. Life sucks, disease is rampant, and survival has turned people into the worst kinds of monsters in their attempt to survive. Halfway out of the ground, it's still dreary, dark, and worst of all trash-filled, but there is still the fortunate luck to have access to electricity. It may be the worst of the worst, but it is also the most populated sector yet looked down upon sector. The rich only seem to get richer, and the poor only seem to get poorer.
3) The Moderates- What you would define as an 'average person'. Factory workers, construction workers, plumbers, etc. Finally, there is some sun, and life here is considered 'good' by most standards. It's still miserable, but it's leagues better than the struggle it is to live in the slums.
4) The Prominents- Doctors, lawyers, the fortunate. Nicest that society can buy the average person. Shifting between the Prominents and Moderates is possible with the right amount of luck or misfortune.
5) Military- Strictly loyal to the government body and no other. They exist in the other levels, but only as enforcement of absolute law and rule with their guns in hand. At the end of every shift, they'll still return to this level.
6) Aristocrats, Government, Judges- Barely seen, but you know they exist. They are the enforcers, and they control every aspect of life whether it's known or not.
The story begins in The Slums. I have two characters for this, one that functions as the brains and the other as the brawns.
The woman, Festie, is a super genius and inventor extraordinaire. A little bit off her rocker, but sound enough to keep it inside of her head well enough. Always an optimist like no other, even for given how shit their situation is.
The man, Hige, is the brawn. Tough, cold, and distant, he has his hands tied in keeping Festie safe during her antics. That, and he is wonderful at finding and scavenging useful parts she might need. They are not related by any means, but they sure act that way. He keeps a hat tight on his head, covering up a little secret on the top of his temple.
This is where the more fantastical elements come in. Magic is a dead thing, assumed to be fundamentally nonexistent/fictional, but YC is about to change that. Unbeknownst to them, they have magical abilities that would be proficient for, say, upheaving the entirety of society for the sake of the outside world. Somehow, our characters will come into contact and this idea will begin to form since there is the constant craving of a better life.The Reach is a vast country with diverse cultures in every corner. It operates as one tandem system within the body of the world; because it must. Long ago, the planes of existence were interwoven into one. After the humans finally rallied together, they took control of the witches and wizards and created a faction of magic-users that were able to create a safe-spot inside the world where demonic beings can't enter or influence. Of course, humans are prone to one thing- fear of themselves. In a fit of paranoia, magic-users were leashed like dogs and through the decades have been slaughtered to very finite numbers. Unbeknownst to everyone except those panicking in the confines of the capital- the small amount of magic-users cannot keep up with the demands of keeping the world intact. Slowly, breaches begin to form between the planes.
Maud Hearne wasn't initially allowed to hunt in her backwater mountain hometown of Laddow, hundreds of miles away from the capital. The place she originated from is a conservative, traditional place- girls are married off the moment they can bleed, and they are expected to follow suit with their womanly duties. After her mother dies, she forfeits her engagement (Never got her dowry back either. Bastard.) and stays with her father. The old man needs the company after all, because he is breaking apart from the loss of his wife and son. Soon enough, it's discovered that Maud has talents in hunting- and definitely not trapping. That's for sure. The woman can track anything. Like a bloodhound, as long as she finds the start of the trail, she can find anything at the end of it. She can glide a dull knife against the edge of the table and sharpen it. When she loses things, they always come back to her one way or another.
Unbeknownst to her, she's a witch. A witch with a strong propensity for magic that's been repressed and hidden for years. A few wards had kept her safe all these years at the ends of The Reach, but one fateful day the wards are accidentally destroyed by a farmer. YC, an escapee witch/warlock from the capital, has found themselves in the privacy of Laddow and comes into contact with Maud. The second heartbeat of magic inside of Maud cannot be ignored, especially when it's in the midst of attracting a large, hungry demon that plans to suck the life out of the villagers with the worst version of groundhogs day ever.
Oh yeah, can't forget the fact YC is being hunted. The King's personal Court Wizard has been sent to put you on death row.The North is a gray, mountainous, cold region known for its brutal winters and tall pine trees. Living by a code of honor, the people are known for their rough-and-tough nature. Bar fights, bounty kills, and a lack of law run the country- unless you make the grave mistake of going against somebody of power, then the guards are up your ass. On the opposite end, the South is a place of warmth and color. Rolling hills for miles, law is a more prevalent thing- alongside a plethora of alcohol. Chocolate, art, music, and everything sweet. Between these two countries, war has been raging for so long that the original reason has been lost to history.
Olav One-Ear is a renown Northern General who has made headway in the war in the past ten years. He swears to the Gods the North is a year away from winning under his hand, and he just needs one more key to fit into the puzzle. His subordinate, a woman simply nicknamed Lye, functions as his surrogate daughter and is next to take his position when he retires. YC is the king's personal wizard, someone who has been horribly abused and neglected their entire life up until this point. In a chance meeting, Olav and Lye meet them and he figures out that magic may be the necessary component.
Now, it's just time to end a war... while questioning the morality of it all.Earth is dying.
Such a fact is inevitable. Climate change, nuclear war, or just the natural course of planets- everything must come to an end. Water is scarce, the heat is unbearable, the dust is accumulating to unproportionable amounts. Luckily, scientists recently discovered a seemingly habitable planet within the goldilocks zone- PARS-91023. Within a crunch of time, several astronauts are sent to the planet to study exactly how habitable it is for humanity. They are completely in the dark of what the future holds... but humans are known for their resilience. -
Need something to world build with? Here you go!:
Necromancer x Resurrected
Dragonriders
Seelie Court x Unseelie Court
Mentor x Apprentice
God x Mortal
Adventurers
Pirate x Captor
Serial killers working together?
Detective x Mafia member (Classic mafia. Al Capone sort of era)
Assassin x Royalty
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1) Music has the power to perform miracles. Summon storms, heal wounds, teleport you to any location, the possibilities seem endless. All it takes is experimentation with different musical notes and instruments. You have discovered a tune on your banjo that does something remarkable, and strange
2) You are an ancient lich, feared throughout the lands for your grey and fair vengeance. One day, you are summoned, but not by a corrupt king or angry mercenary, instead by an unnaturally thin girl dressed in servants rags, who says "f…forgive me for disturbing you…I had nowhere else to go
3) You awoke an Ancient Terror and plan to use it to conquer the world. But it seems the demon doesn't understand your motives, and you're starting to doubt whether it is actually evil.
4) "Today was amazing", you think to yourself. Work went well, and your boss seems to like you. You unlock your door, and your cat eagerly greats you. You find the house you left dirty is spotless, and there's a delicious freshly cooked meal on the table. The only problem? You live alone.
5) The Fae realm has always overlapped ours but it was sealed off centuries ago. Now the barrier is failing and has become full of weak spots where things can pass through. One of those doorways happens to be in your closet - and with rent being what it is, there's no way you're moving.
6) In this universe all tattoos are magical but difficult to ink, powerful mages have 3 or sometimes 4. Fireballs and lightning are common choices. You've been transported here from Earth, with a full sleeve and more, for your taste in music, movies, ideals, etc. Your magic is…different.
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