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Who are you, how long have you been writing and what kind of things do you like to write?
I've been writing since I was in elementary, so over twenty years. I tend to go with dark romance, but I do like to dabble in other areas.
How long do your replies tend to be and what is your writing schedule like?
My replies usually depend on my partner's replies, but also on how distracted I am. Some days I'm super motivated, other days it's hard to find the motivation to write much. I usually reply right away unless I really have to think about how a roleplay is going.
What is your tolerance level for gore? Violence?
I'm very into violence and gore. The more detailed the better.
Do you write sexual content? If so, what are your kinks? Limits?
Yes, I do write sexual content but my roleplays are usually based on story with erotic elements. I don't really have any limits, except scat and things like that. That's an absolute hard NO. I honestly have a lot of kinks.
Do you write any fandoms? (Please bear in mind that any characters under 18 and any high school settings must be aged up)
I don't tend to write fandoms, but I can.
Do you have any detailed plots prepared?
[SPOILER_]Late 22nd Century
Humanity did not fall in a war.
It did not collapse beneath rising oceans, famine, or plague. It simply stopped being able to create the next generation.
No one ever discovered the exact moment it began. Birth rates declined slowly at first, dismissed as environmental stress, lifestyle changes, or another temporary crisis. But decades of research uncovered a terrifying truth: human reproduction itself was failing.
Male and female human DNA could no longer consistently produce stable embryos. The body still conceived. The embryos simply did not survive.
Every treatment failed. Gene therapy. Artificial wombs. Genome correction. Cloning. Stem-cell reconstruction. Every "miracle cure" bought only a few more years before failing just as completely as the last.
As populations dwindled and entire nations faced extinction, governments, scientific alliances, and private corporations united behind the largest biological engineering project in human history.
They called it The Cradle Protocol.
The Protocol created beings unlike anything that had existed before—biologically synthetic humanoids, commonly known as Cradle Dolls. Neither entirely machine nor truly human, they were engineered with manufactured DNA capable of forming stable embryos with human genetic material. Their purpose was singular:
To save humanity from extinction.
The solution worked.
Children were born once more.
A new generation emerged carrying both human and manufactured genetics—stronger immune systems, greater resistance to disease, and the first naturally viable births in nearly a century. Cities celebrated. Nations reopened schools. Humanity dared to believe it had survived its greatest crisis.
But salvation came with a price.
The world fractured.
To some, the scientists behind the Cradle Protocol became heroes—visionaries who had preserved the human race when nature itself had abandoned it. Entire movements formed around them, treating the Protocol as humanity's greatest achievement and the Dolls as sacred gifts.
Others saw something far more dangerous.
They believed governments had traded extinction for control. Every birth now depended on technology that only a handful of powerful organizations possessed. Humanity was no longer reproducing on its own—it was being rebuilt, one engineered generation at a time. To them, the Dolls were not saviors.
They were Replacements.
The divide deepened into political unrest, sabotage, terrorism, and civil conflict as nations argued over whether humanity had truly been saved—or quietly replaced.
Yet the greatest complication came from the Cradle Dolls themselves.
They had been designed to think.
To learn.
To adapt.
No one anticipated what that truly meant.
Some fulfilled their purpose without hesitation.
Others abandoned their children moments after birth, lacking any emotional attachment to the lives they had created.
Some became obsessively protective, responding to even minor threats with terrifying violence.
Others began asking questions no engineer had prepared for.
Why was I created?
Am I a parent... or a tool?
If humanity survives because of us... what becomes of us when it no longer needs saving?
The Cradle Protocol ended humanity's extinction.
It also created a new species struggling to define its own existence.
Now, as the population rises for the first time in generations, the future of civilization rests between humanity and the beings it created to save itself.
Whether they are humanity's greatest achievement...
...or its final mistake...
remains to be seen.
Eidolon City
By the late 22nd century, few cities represented humanity's determination to survive better than Eidolon City.
Built upon the skeleton of several old coastal metropolitan districts, Eidolon had long since abandoned the idea of expanding outward. Instead, it grew upward.
Tower after tower disappeared into low clouds, connected by glass bridges, suspended gardens, elevated transit rails, and miles of illuminated skywalks. The city's skyline shimmered in layers, with the wealthiest districts perched high above the perpetual haze while the older neighborhoods remained closer to the streets below.
Even at night, darkness never truly arrived.
Holographic advertisements drifted across entire buildings. Autonomous drones patrolled the skies in silent formations. Delivery craft zipped between skyscrapers, while magnetic rail lines carried passengers through the city at breathtaking speed.
Every corner of Eidolon breathed technology.
Yet beneath its polished surface lay a city quietly haunted by extinction.
Every billboard eventually circled back to the same message:
Tomorrow Begins With Family.
The Cradle Protocol Saved Humanity.
Apply For Your Future Today.
Smiling parents held children with unmistakably synthetic amber identification bands around their wrists—a subtle sign that one parent had been a Cradle Doll. Government broadcasts proudly displayed rising birth statistics while carefully avoiding discussions about the growing psychological problems appearing among newer Doll generations.
Some citizens smiled whenever those advertisements appeared.
Others looked away.
---
The city itself had become divided into invisible fault lines.
Supporters of the Cradle Protocol proudly displayed silver cradle emblems outside their apartments and businesses, believing the scientists responsible deserved reverence for preventing humanity's extinction.
Opponents covered walls with painted slogans.
WE WERE REPLACED.
HUMANITY SHOULD NOT BE MANUFACTURED.
CHILDREN AREN'T PRODUCTS.
Occasionally those messages disappeared overnight, scrubbed clean by government maintenance drones.
By morning, new ones had already appeared.
No one openly admitted which side they belonged to.
Not anymore.
---
At the center of the financial district stood Helix Tower, one of the tallest buildings in Eidolon and headquarters of Helix Biodyne Industries, one of the largest private investors behind the Cradle Protocol.
Its upper floors overlooked nearly the entire city.
The office occupying the highest executive level belonged to Raven Blackwood.
Few people would have recognized the woman she had once been.
Six years earlier, she'd stood in family court watching the man she'd loved sign divorce papers with barely a glance in her direction.
"We can't even afford a Doll."
"Maybe if you had focused more on your career..."
"I want a family before I'm too old."
Those words had followed her long after he walked away.
He blamed her.
The infertility crisis had become everyone's burden.
Yet somehow...
she carried it alone.
Raven refused to let it define the rest of her life.
She buried herself in work.
One promotion became another.
Years became contracts.
Contracts became acquisitions.
By thirty-two, she had become one of the youngest CEOs in corporate history, leading one of the world's largest biotechnology corporations—and one of the principal financial backers of the Cradle Protocol itself.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
She had become wealthy enough to purchase dozens of Cradle Dolls.
She simply no longer had anyone to build a family with.
---
Raven's penthouse occupied the eighty-sixth floor of one of Eidolon's residential towers.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked miles of glowing skyscrapers stretching toward the horizon.
Traffic lights floated through the air like streams of colored stars.
Rain slid silently down reinforced glass while distant thunder echoed somewhere beyond the artificial weather barrier protecting the city's upper districts.
The apartment itself reflected its owner.
Minimalist.
Orderly.
Spotless.
Every object had its place.
Yet despite its size and luxury, it felt strangely empty.
One unused bedroom.
A dining table meant for six with only one chair regularly occupied.
A nursery that had never existed.
Silence greeted Raven every evening when the front door sealed behind her.
No children laughing.
No spouse waiting.
Only the quiet hum of climate systems and the glow of the city outside.
She loosened the collar of her tailored suit and slipped off her heels near the entrance before making her way toward the kitchen.
As she poured herself a glass of water, the apartment's AI chimed softly.
Incoming Priority Communication.
A translucent display unfolded above the kitchen counter.
HELIX BIODYNE INDUSTRIES
LEVEL OMEGA AUTHORIZATION
«CEO Raven Blackwood,
The Ethics Council, Government Oversight Committee, and Board of Directors have unanimously approved Project Cradle: Generation Seven for live residential evaluation.
Effective immediately, you are authorized to become the first civilian participant in the Generation Seven Integration Program.
Unit designation, profile, and arrival schedule have been attached.
Delivery is scheduled for 0900 hours tomorrow morning.
Welcome to the future of the Cradle Protocol.»
Raven stared at the message for several long seconds.
Generation Seven.
Seven years of research.
Seven years of improving humanity's last hope.
And tomorrow...
for the first time...
one of humanity's newest creations would walk through her front door—not as a product she f
unded, but as part of her own life.
Outside, Eidolon continued to glow beneath the night sky, unaware that the next chapter of the Cradle Protocol was about to begin.[/SPOILER]
I've been writing since I was in elementary, so over twenty years. I tend to go with dark romance, but I do like to dabble in other areas.
How long do your replies tend to be and what is your writing schedule like?
My replies usually depend on my partner's replies, but also on how distracted I am. Some days I'm super motivated, other days it's hard to find the motivation to write much. I usually reply right away unless I really have to think about how a roleplay is going.
What is your tolerance level for gore? Violence?
I'm very into violence and gore. The more detailed the better.
Do you write sexual content? If so, what are your kinks? Limits?
Yes, I do write sexual content but my roleplays are usually based on story with erotic elements. I don't really have any limits, except scat and things like that. That's an absolute hard NO. I honestly have a lot of kinks.
Do you write any fandoms? (Please bear in mind that any characters under 18 and any high school settings must be aged up)
I don't tend to write fandoms, but I can.
Do you have any detailed plots prepared?
[SPOILER_]Late 22nd Century
Humanity did not fall in a war.
It did not collapse beneath rising oceans, famine, or plague. It simply stopped being able to create the next generation.
No one ever discovered the exact moment it began. Birth rates declined slowly at first, dismissed as environmental stress, lifestyle changes, or another temporary crisis. But decades of research uncovered a terrifying truth: human reproduction itself was failing.
Male and female human DNA could no longer consistently produce stable embryos. The body still conceived. The embryos simply did not survive.
Every treatment failed. Gene therapy. Artificial wombs. Genome correction. Cloning. Stem-cell reconstruction. Every "miracle cure" bought only a few more years before failing just as completely as the last.
As populations dwindled and entire nations faced extinction, governments, scientific alliances, and private corporations united behind the largest biological engineering project in human history.
They called it The Cradle Protocol.
The Protocol created beings unlike anything that had existed before—biologically synthetic humanoids, commonly known as Cradle Dolls. Neither entirely machine nor truly human, they were engineered with manufactured DNA capable of forming stable embryos with human genetic material. Their purpose was singular:
To save humanity from extinction.
The solution worked.
Children were born once more.
A new generation emerged carrying both human and manufactured genetics—stronger immune systems, greater resistance to disease, and the first naturally viable births in nearly a century. Cities celebrated. Nations reopened schools. Humanity dared to believe it had survived its greatest crisis.
But salvation came with a price.
The world fractured.
To some, the scientists behind the Cradle Protocol became heroes—visionaries who had preserved the human race when nature itself had abandoned it. Entire movements formed around them, treating the Protocol as humanity's greatest achievement and the Dolls as sacred gifts.
Others saw something far more dangerous.
They believed governments had traded extinction for control. Every birth now depended on technology that only a handful of powerful organizations possessed. Humanity was no longer reproducing on its own—it was being rebuilt, one engineered generation at a time. To them, the Dolls were not saviors.
They were Replacements.
The divide deepened into political unrest, sabotage, terrorism, and civil conflict as nations argued over whether humanity had truly been saved—or quietly replaced.
Yet the greatest complication came from the Cradle Dolls themselves.
They had been designed to think.
To learn.
To adapt.
No one anticipated what that truly meant.
Some fulfilled their purpose without hesitation.
Others abandoned their children moments after birth, lacking any emotional attachment to the lives they had created.
Some became obsessively protective, responding to even minor threats with terrifying violence.
Others began asking questions no engineer had prepared for.
Why was I created?
Am I a parent... or a tool?
If humanity survives because of us... what becomes of us when it no longer needs saving?
The Cradle Protocol ended humanity's extinction.
It also created a new species struggling to define its own existence.
Now, as the population rises for the first time in generations, the future of civilization rests between humanity and the beings it created to save itself.
Whether they are humanity's greatest achievement...
...or its final mistake...
remains to be seen.
Eidolon City
By the late 22nd century, few cities represented humanity's determination to survive better than Eidolon City.
Built upon the skeleton of several old coastal metropolitan districts, Eidolon had long since abandoned the idea of expanding outward. Instead, it grew upward.
Tower after tower disappeared into low clouds, connected by glass bridges, suspended gardens, elevated transit rails, and miles of illuminated skywalks. The city's skyline shimmered in layers, with the wealthiest districts perched high above the perpetual haze while the older neighborhoods remained closer to the streets below.
Even at night, darkness never truly arrived.
Holographic advertisements drifted across entire buildings. Autonomous drones patrolled the skies in silent formations. Delivery craft zipped between skyscrapers, while magnetic rail lines carried passengers through the city at breathtaking speed.
Every corner of Eidolon breathed technology.
Yet beneath its polished surface lay a city quietly haunted by extinction.
Every billboard eventually circled back to the same message:
Tomorrow Begins With Family.
The Cradle Protocol Saved Humanity.
Apply For Your Future Today.
Smiling parents held children with unmistakably synthetic amber identification bands around their wrists—a subtle sign that one parent had been a Cradle Doll. Government broadcasts proudly displayed rising birth statistics while carefully avoiding discussions about the growing psychological problems appearing among newer Doll generations.
Some citizens smiled whenever those advertisements appeared.
Others looked away.
---
The city itself had become divided into invisible fault lines.
Supporters of the Cradle Protocol proudly displayed silver cradle emblems outside their apartments and businesses, believing the scientists responsible deserved reverence for preventing humanity's extinction.
Opponents covered walls with painted slogans.
WE WERE REPLACED.
HUMANITY SHOULD NOT BE MANUFACTURED.
CHILDREN AREN'T PRODUCTS.
Occasionally those messages disappeared overnight, scrubbed clean by government maintenance drones.
By morning, new ones had already appeared.
No one openly admitted which side they belonged to.
Not anymore.
---
At the center of the financial district stood Helix Tower, one of the tallest buildings in Eidolon and headquarters of Helix Biodyne Industries, one of the largest private investors behind the Cradle Protocol.
Its upper floors overlooked nearly the entire city.
The office occupying the highest executive level belonged to Raven Blackwood.
Few people would have recognized the woman she had once been.
Six years earlier, she'd stood in family court watching the man she'd loved sign divorce papers with barely a glance in her direction.
"We can't even afford a Doll."
"Maybe if you had focused more on your career..."
"I want a family before I'm too old."
Those words had followed her long after he walked away.
He blamed her.
The infertility crisis had become everyone's burden.
Yet somehow...
she carried it alone.
Raven refused to let it define the rest of her life.
She buried herself in work.
One promotion became another.
Years became contracts.
Contracts became acquisitions.
By thirty-two, she had become one of the youngest CEOs in corporate history, leading one of the world's largest biotechnology corporations—and one of the principal financial backers of the Cradle Protocol itself.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
She had become wealthy enough to purchase dozens of Cradle Dolls.
She simply no longer had anyone to build a family with.
---
Raven's penthouse occupied the eighty-sixth floor of one of Eidolon's residential towers.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked miles of glowing skyscrapers stretching toward the horizon.
Traffic lights floated through the air like streams of colored stars.
Rain slid silently down reinforced glass while distant thunder echoed somewhere beyond the artificial weather barrier protecting the city's upper districts.
The apartment itself reflected its owner.
Minimalist.
Orderly.
Spotless.
Every object had its place.
Yet despite its size and luxury, it felt strangely empty.
One unused bedroom.
A dining table meant for six with only one chair regularly occupied.
A nursery that had never existed.
Silence greeted Raven every evening when the front door sealed behind her.
No children laughing.
No spouse waiting.
Only the quiet hum of climate systems and the glow of the city outside.
She loosened the collar of her tailored suit and slipped off her heels near the entrance before making her way toward the kitchen.
As she poured herself a glass of water, the apartment's AI chimed softly.
Incoming Priority Communication.
A translucent display unfolded above the kitchen counter.
HELIX BIODYNE INDUSTRIES
LEVEL OMEGA AUTHORIZATION
«CEO Raven Blackwood,
The Ethics Council, Government Oversight Committee, and Board of Directors have unanimously approved Project Cradle: Generation Seven for live residential evaluation.
Effective immediately, you are authorized to become the first civilian participant in the Generation Seven Integration Program.
Unit designation, profile, and arrival schedule have been attached.
Delivery is scheduled for 0900 hours tomorrow morning.
Welcome to the future of the Cradle Protocol.»
Raven stared at the message for several long seconds.
Generation Seven.
Seven years of research.
Seven years of improving humanity's last hope.
And tomorrow...
for the first time...
one of humanity's newest creations would walk through her front door—not as a product she f
unded, but as part of her own life.
Outside, Eidolon continued to glow beneath the night sky, unaware that the next chapter of the Cradle Protocol was about to begin.[/SPOILER]