InkyWinks
Serf
- Local time
- Today 11:06 PM
- Messages
- 2
- Age
- 26
Hello! So, now that I've had the pleasure of reading up on some of the incredible writing on this forum, and am feeling thoroughly intimidated, I'm excited to get the first request thread post out there.
First and foremost, I'm looking for a roleplay that's plot-heavy and mostly conflict and character-driven, with plenty of room for emotional depth, tension, and world-building. The growth of our flawed characters, the evolving dynamics between them, and the obstacles they face along the way are what truly excite me.
Writing preferences? Third person, past tense ~ I find that this style flows the best for me, and it helps keep the storytelling immersive and clear. I'm not a native speaker, so I've no doubt that I'll mess up a past perfect tense on more than one occasion, but I'll give my utmost to ensure we both have a good experience. I'm aiming for about 2-3 posts a week, depending on life and inspiration. My replies typically range from 400-1000 words, but I'm flexible and happy to adapt to the flow of the scene.
Smut? Yes, please! I love it both (explicitly) sweet and spicy, but as all good things ~ in moderation. Smut is great for adding some spice, but I'm (currently) not looking for an non-stop stream of carnal debauchery. Tension and teasing between our characters are a quick way to get that heartbeat up. Intense moments of build-up (a look, conversation, a touch, a choke, a spank), and then just when things start to heat up, the proverbial knock on the door just loud enough to knock some sense into them. Not going to give a ratio or whatever, if it feels right, it's right, and we can always discuss! In terms of kinks, definitely think 'Fetish Dungeon', and am happy to discuss further in private. Hard limits for me would be: adultery, age-regression, main-character death, extreme gore, vore, watersports.
Genres? I'm a fan of a wide variety of genres, but some of my all-time favourites include:
Pairings? Personally, I'm not a big fan of listing a lot of set pairings or kinks, but would like to tailor each individual roleplay to both our wants and needs. I will add a (in time ~ a number of) semi-starter(s) to this request thread, which we could use as inspiration.
I'd love to get some great stories going, so if any of this resonates with you, don't hesitate to reach out!
First and foremost, I'm looking for a roleplay that's plot-heavy and mostly conflict and character-driven, with plenty of room for emotional depth, tension, and world-building. The growth of our flawed characters, the evolving dynamics between them, and the obstacles they face along the way are what truly excite me.
Writing preferences? Third person, past tense ~ I find that this style flows the best for me, and it helps keep the storytelling immersive and clear. I'm not a native speaker, so I've no doubt that I'll mess up a past perfect tense on more than one occasion, but I'll give my utmost to ensure we both have a good experience. I'm aiming for about 2-3 posts a week, depending on life and inspiration. My replies typically range from 400-1000 words, but I'm flexible and happy to adapt to the flow of the scene.
Smut? Yes, please! I love it both (explicitly) sweet and spicy, but as all good things ~ in moderation. Smut is great for adding some spice, but I'm (currently) not looking for an non-stop stream of carnal debauchery. Tension and teasing between our characters are a quick way to get that heartbeat up. Intense moments of build-up (a look, conversation, a touch, a choke, a spank), and then just when things start to heat up, the proverbial knock on the door just loud enough to knock some sense into them. Not going to give a ratio or whatever, if it feels right, it's right, and we can always discuss! In terms of kinks, definitely think 'Fetish Dungeon', and am happy to discuss further in private. Hard limits for me would be: adultery, age-regression, main-character death, extreme gore, vore, watersports.
Genres? I'm a fan of a wide variety of genres, but some of my all-time favourites include:
- Fantasy: World-building, magical elements, mythical characters and adventurous quests. Anything from epic high fantasy to dark, gritty settings works for me.
- Drama: Conflict, growth, and high-stakes moments really get me invested.
- Thriller: Tension, suspense, and those moments where things feel just on the edge of danger. Give me mystery, intrigue, psychological games, and high-stakes action. Please, let things absolutely derail and find creative ways for our characters to solve those problems.
- Romance: I'm a sucker for a slow-burning, gut wrenching, heartwarming, complicated relationships. The classic enemies-to-lovers is an absolute evergreen, so do let me know if that's something you'd like to write about too.
- Fictional History: History with a twist! It's more about historical themes rather than historical accuracy.
Pairings? Personally, I'm not a big fan of listing a lot of set pairings or kinks, but would like to tailor each individual roleplay to both our wants and needs. I will add a (in time ~ a number of) semi-starter(s) to this request thread, which we could use as inspiration.
I'd love to get some great stories going, so if any of this resonates with you, don't hesitate to reach out!
"Will there be no end to this?" the emperor screamed, utterly furious, from atop the dais. Despite the monarch's thin, frail frame, the voice boomed across the hall. The ragged soldier, still knelt before the throne, went pale at the sudden outburst. The young recruit, Ramon, quietly cursed the fate that had led him to draw the short straw. Being the messenger of bad news at the royal court could easily end one up in an early grave. With a loud bang a golden goblet landed against the wall, the contents splashing across an undoubtedly priceless painting of the royal family, before unceremoniously clattering across the tiled floors. Not even the generals, trained veterans in both warfare and their lord's temper, could help but twitch.
"The last fortress has fallen, they even march on the capital now. You-, you were supposed to win me this war!" the emperor bit venomously. "Every report you bring me is just more defeat, more losses, and it's always the same excuses. 'Blasted mages, not enough gold, not enough troops', what do you expect me to do? Should I levy the young and the elderly, because you are all nothing but cowards and incompetents?!" All those gathered were wise enough to remain quiet and let the rage burn itself out, and definitely witted enough to not remind the emperor that it had been him, against the advice of the Council, that single-handedly started this war.
With a sigh, Luke the Third fell back into his throne. His long hair settled in front of his face like a mask as he leaned down. Slowly massaging his forehead, he contemplated how to proceed. He wasn't sure where it had all gone wrong, but it was clear that a resounding defeat was nigh. In mere days the enemy's armies would reach the city of Astrador, which was completely unsuited to withstand a siege. Was it time to consider a surrender? Would his foes be willing to accept the same terms they once offered before their overwhelming campaign? Waving over to the messenger, he spoke wearily. "Go and bring me my son."
"Yes, Your Highness," the soldier responded with a bow and was about to shuffle away when he stopped dead in his tracks. Clearly caught between a rock and a hard place, the man struggled to calculate the odds of questioning the order. Hesitantly rising to meet the emperor's eyes, he barely dared ask, "Your son? Your son is at the Institute, my Lord."
The response was icy, cold enough to freeze the blood in the servant's veins. "I'm aware…"
With a quick nod Ramon was finally off. Slowly treading through the hallways of the palace, he muttered to himself in disbelief. First, it had been delivering that damned report, and now he had to go fetch the prince?! Everyone in Astrador avoided that place like the bloody plague, afraid to catch the curse - not that anyone actually had a clue what went on in there... All Roman knew was that those afflicted with the curse of magic were promptly sent to the Institute of the Arcana. Mages were said to go barking mad and be a danger to anyone close. 'Abominations' and 'unnaturally diseased', the priests at the Holy Church called them, surely for good reason.
---
Flames roared around a man standing in the training circle. Sweat dripping down his forehead, Alexander regarded the fire warily, attempting to focus in on the words of the figure standing above in the tiered seating surrounding the practice arena. "So you think you have what it takes to be a sorcerer, boy?! Show me what you got - quell the flames!"
Desperately trying to remember the lessons he had been taught the past months, Alexander sought out to summon water from his bare hands. Breathe. Visualize. Manifest. The voice continued barraging him as he struggled to concentrate. "Can't even conjure water, how utterly pathetic!" the "Out there you might be a prince, but here you are nothing- nothing!"
Gritting his teeth, the student couldn't help but be goaded by the taunts. Couldn't that miserable old coot shut up for a second? The constant harassment reminded him of the way his father used to speak to him – when he spoke to him. For years, ever since it had been found out that he had the Affliction, he had been hidden away. However, since reaching adulthood the effects were growing worse with every month. It took almost burning a wing of the palace down, before he was finally sent away. It had been supposed to be a secret, but of course it had instantly gotten out that the prince had been sent down to the Institute. A greater shame was hardly imaginable.
Just when he was about to give up, the flames vanished into thin air. For the tiniest moment Alexander believed that maybe he had done it, but then immediately recognized that he hadn't managed to do anything. Above, in the stands, the archmage Antonius casually conversed with an attendant before turning his attention back to the student, looking none too pleased. "The test is over."
"But-," Alexander's complaints were cut short.
"You still lack control over your emotions." The teacher's tone was gentle and instructive now, the earlier aggression completely absent. "You must practice your meditation. To master your magic, you must master your thoughts. You know from experience what happens when you conjure without inner peace, it's oblivion - uncontrollable and deadly." With a sorry look on his face, the archmage paused to study the prince, hoping to see his teachings take hold.
All those that came to the Institute carried such despair. They were treated like leppers, condemned to a life of madness by the very people they held dear. The old man wished the people could break through their ignorance and see the gift of the Arcane for what it was – not a curse, not an affliction, but the potential for greatness. However, that blasted church preached hell and damnation to everyone even slightly involved with magic and so every student ended up hating themselves before they even understood who they were. With a dismissive gesture, Antonius indicated that for the student to leave.
"Oh, right, there's a man at the gate to pick you up. You've been summoned to the palace."
---
So, who's who, and what's what? We can take this in any direction, as nothing is set in stone. An age-old classic would be an arranged marriage between two unwilling candidates, who slowly find each other to be (more than) tolerable. Alternatively, Alexander is sent on an assassination/kidnapping mission on 'your character', in a desperate bid to end the war in one fell sweep.
"The last fortress has fallen, they even march on the capital now. You-, you were supposed to win me this war!" the emperor bit venomously. "Every report you bring me is just more defeat, more losses, and it's always the same excuses. 'Blasted mages, not enough gold, not enough troops', what do you expect me to do? Should I levy the young and the elderly, because you are all nothing but cowards and incompetents?!" All those gathered were wise enough to remain quiet and let the rage burn itself out, and definitely witted enough to not remind the emperor that it had been him, against the advice of the Council, that single-handedly started this war.
With a sigh, Luke the Third fell back into his throne. His long hair settled in front of his face like a mask as he leaned down. Slowly massaging his forehead, he contemplated how to proceed. He wasn't sure where it had all gone wrong, but it was clear that a resounding defeat was nigh. In mere days the enemy's armies would reach the city of Astrador, which was completely unsuited to withstand a siege. Was it time to consider a surrender? Would his foes be willing to accept the same terms they once offered before their overwhelming campaign? Waving over to the messenger, he spoke wearily. "Go and bring me my son."
"Yes, Your Highness," the soldier responded with a bow and was about to shuffle away when he stopped dead in his tracks. Clearly caught between a rock and a hard place, the man struggled to calculate the odds of questioning the order. Hesitantly rising to meet the emperor's eyes, he barely dared ask, "Your son? Your son is at the Institute, my Lord."
The response was icy, cold enough to freeze the blood in the servant's veins. "I'm aware…"
With a quick nod Ramon was finally off. Slowly treading through the hallways of the palace, he muttered to himself in disbelief. First, it had been delivering that damned report, and now he had to go fetch the prince?! Everyone in Astrador avoided that place like the bloody plague, afraid to catch the curse - not that anyone actually had a clue what went on in there... All Roman knew was that those afflicted with the curse of magic were promptly sent to the Institute of the Arcana. Mages were said to go barking mad and be a danger to anyone close. 'Abominations' and 'unnaturally diseased', the priests at the Holy Church called them, surely for good reason.
---
Flames roared around a man standing in the training circle. Sweat dripping down his forehead, Alexander regarded the fire warily, attempting to focus in on the words of the figure standing above in the tiered seating surrounding the practice arena. "So you think you have what it takes to be a sorcerer, boy?! Show me what you got - quell the flames!"
Desperately trying to remember the lessons he had been taught the past months, Alexander sought out to summon water from his bare hands. Breathe. Visualize. Manifest. The voice continued barraging him as he struggled to concentrate. "Can't even conjure water, how utterly pathetic!" the "Out there you might be a prince, but here you are nothing- nothing!"
Gritting his teeth, the student couldn't help but be goaded by the taunts. Couldn't that miserable old coot shut up for a second? The constant harassment reminded him of the way his father used to speak to him – when he spoke to him. For years, ever since it had been found out that he had the Affliction, he had been hidden away. However, since reaching adulthood the effects were growing worse with every month. It took almost burning a wing of the palace down, before he was finally sent away. It had been supposed to be a secret, but of course it had instantly gotten out that the prince had been sent down to the Institute. A greater shame was hardly imaginable.
Just when he was about to give up, the flames vanished into thin air. For the tiniest moment Alexander believed that maybe he had done it, but then immediately recognized that he hadn't managed to do anything. Above, in the stands, the archmage Antonius casually conversed with an attendant before turning his attention back to the student, looking none too pleased. "The test is over."
"But-," Alexander's complaints were cut short.
"You still lack control over your emotions." The teacher's tone was gentle and instructive now, the earlier aggression completely absent. "You must practice your meditation. To master your magic, you must master your thoughts. You know from experience what happens when you conjure without inner peace, it's oblivion - uncontrollable and deadly." With a sorry look on his face, the archmage paused to study the prince, hoping to see his teachings take hold.
All those that came to the Institute carried such despair. They were treated like leppers, condemned to a life of madness by the very people they held dear. The old man wished the people could break through their ignorance and see the gift of the Arcane for what it was – not a curse, not an affliction, but the potential for greatness. However, that blasted church preached hell and damnation to everyone even slightly involved with magic and so every student ended up hating themselves before they even understood who they were. With a dismissive gesture, Antonius indicated that for the student to leave.
"Oh, right, there's a man at the gate to pick you up. You've been summoned to the palace."
---
So, who's who, and what's what? We can take this in any direction, as nothing is set in stone. An age-old classic would be an arranged marriage between two unwilling candidates, who slowly find each other to be (more than) tolerable. Alternatively, Alexander is sent on an assassination/kidnapping mission on 'your character', in a desperate bid to end the war in one fell sweep.