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Hidden 6 yrs ago → 6 yrs ago Post by Tim the Yeti
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Hidden 6 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Tim the Yeti
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Hello and welcome to my all-inclusive interest check! Please come in and have a look over everything I've laid out. I hope to keep this up to date with plots, pairings, and other general bits of roleplaying inspiration.

If anything interests you, I ask that you PM me instead of replying to this thread. I really want to keep this thread looking nice and tidy, and it is incredibly likely that I won't see your reply. PMs are the best way to reach me.

Thank you!

Status: Open and Searching
Current Plot Craving(s):
"An Autumn Wedding"
Current Pairing Craving(s):
P R I N C E ❤ P R I N C E S S



My name is Tim and I'm a 25 year old Male who got hooked on roleplaying around 2009 when Deviant Art chat rooms were a big thing. Since then, I've been in and out of the game, but I've never stopped writing. I'm well out of school now and have entered the general workforce, and on top of my job, I have several hobbies that have been known to demand my attention. But, no matter what happens, I am the sort of person who believes in maintaining an open line of communication with my roleplaying partner(s), and regardless of how busy I can get, I tend to churn out at least a post a day (sometimes two) most of the time, and a post every other day at all other times.

That being said, I recognize that things happen and schedules change. If something is to happen in my life that will draw me away from our roleplay, I will not hesitate to notify you. And I do ask that you offer me the same courtesy.


G E N E R A L P R E F E R E N C E S
★ = optional but strongly desired!

  • High Preference for Romance
  • M/F Romantic Pairings (Female Partner Preferred)
  • Smut
  • Story:Smut Ratio = 60:40 or 70:30
  • High Casual - Advanced (except during scenes with heavy dialogue/action)
  • Multiple Characters1 ★
  • Focus on World Building and Character Relationships
  • Character Sheets ★
  • OOC Planning (Story Arcs, Character Arcs, Villains, Plotting, etc.)
  • General OOC Communication (Discord is Ideal)
  • Monster Girls2 ★ (not furries!)
  • Harem Romance ★★


1 Please note that, while I do ask that my partners are open to playing multiple main characters, I do not expect for the bulk of the roleplaying labor to be placed upon their shoulders. Therefore, on top of playing my main character, I am more than happy to take point when it comes to playing villains and side characters, coming up with story arcs, and the general flow world building. Naturally, I would like for this roleplay to be a collaborative endeavor, but I also want to ensure that my partner doesn't feel as though the burden of storytelling is tipped unfairly.

2 Please ALSO note that my request for monster girls does not mean that I ONLY wish you to play monster girls. To be frank, such a lack in variety would be truly boring and I GLADLY accept more common races such as Humans, Elves, and the like. My request was never meant to replace the standard, but rather to accent it.



G E N R E S

Fantasy || Action || Adventure || Romance

P O T E N T I A L S E T T I N G S

Medieval || Victorian || Steam Punk || Silk Punk || Diesel Punk

(note that all settings take place in an entirely fictional world)


"An Autumn Wedding"


Palara has not seen war in nearly a century – a feat due in no small part to the actions of Queen Anwyn the Wise, the first noble from house Thiria to take the throne, and her diplomatic prowess that secured alliances between nearly all of her country’s neighboring kingdoms. Since then, the Royal Court of Thiria has held ruling power over Palara, and has made use of the peace that followed their first queen’s reign to shift the kingdom’s focus from warfare to knowledge.

With this era of newfound peace upon them, the rulers that followed in Lady Anwyn’s wake have saw to the construction of magnificent universities and great libraries which bolstered the already impressive cities of Palara with their intellectual pursuits. However, when it came time for discovery, researchers looked not to the lands beyond Palaran borders, but instead to the catacombs that lay beneath their feet. For as long as anyone can remember, the maze of crypts and tunnels that expand endlessly downward have remained enshrouded by the unknown.

Who build them?

For what purpose do they serve?

What knowledge is hidden away in their depths?

When at last researchers discovered the answers to these questions while under the reign of the most recent Thirian King, a man named Lord Ifor, they were stricken with regret. For, caught up in the excitement of discovery and intellectual advancement, they carelessly stumbled upon an ancient and powerful force that, if roused, could level the world without much thought or remorse.

Fear gripped Palara as the news of these new and terrible findings reached the surface. Hastily, the house of Thiria tried to bury the secret – only to find their efforts in vain. Rumors escaped through their fingertips and made their way across the lands to allies as well as enemies who, being mortals subject to greed and lust, demanded a share of this “power” without quite realizing what it was that they were asking for.

Needless to say, King Ifor denied all of them, certain that they and their people would be driven to ruin if they were given just a taste of what lurked beneath his kingdom. But his refusal only led to insistence, then accusations of betrayal, and, tragically, declarations of war. Suddenly Palara, a kingdom that had not known warfare in nearly a hundred years, was threatened with annihilation at the hands of people it once saw as friends.

Left with no choice, King Ifor called upon a distant country for aid and, forced to go against his wishes, organized a royal wedding that would secure the bond between them. On his side, a young bachelor prince, the son of the Grand Duke and Duchess of the Thirian court, was offered up for a marriage with their high princess.
W I P

"The Second Coming of the Eternal Shadow"


Long ago, in a time almost beyond memory, a powerful curse blinded the Gods and forced the world into what would come to be known as the First Century of Darkness. Without their sight, the divine could not see the fractures between the realms. And so, Demons slipped through into the mortal realm where, in their lust for bloodshed, they embarked upon great, terrifying conquests filled with death and torment.

Their arrival harkened the birth of a shadow which fed off of mortal suffering and spread throughout the lands. Insatiable, it swallowed up entire provinces, leaving nothing behind but rot and decay.

After just a decade, more than a dozen great empires fell to ruin, and entire races found themselves threatened with extinction.

For a time, it seemed that all was lost.

But then, in the darkest hour, a few mortals rose up to bring hope to the hopeless. On the surface they were simple folk: farmers, merchants, florists, blacksmiths... Nevertheless, they stood in spite of the overwhelming tide of despair and took up arms against the Demons and their masters. Although the odds were against them, they fought. Indeed, many of them perished. Yet, those among them who lived continued to push back against the great shadow, undeterred by the threat of death.

And they were the ones who kept the world from falling completely into the maw of shadow.

In the end, every hero who rose up against the Demons died a gruesome death. Even so, their willingness to stand when no one else could is what kept the waves of darkness back until the sight of the Gods returned and the encroaching shade could be banished once and for all.

Then, in an act of gratitude, the Gods and Mortals came together to erect a magnificent feast hall that was dubbed The Hall of Eternity; which was then transported into the afterlife and given as a gift to the heroes who fought for the people during the First Century of Darkness. There, the heroes were free to eat, drink, and rest until the end of time.

Unless, of course, they were called upon again.

Now, around two millennia have passed since the First Century of the Darkness and the mortal world has largely forgotten about the heroes of old. Certainly there are stories, but written records of that time (and ages that came before it) are scarce.

Stories -- bard songs and fireside tales told by half-blind old nurses to the children in their care -- were some of the only things that endured the years to serve as a vague reminder of what those hundred years were truly like.

And for a time, the myths and legends were satisfactory.

That is, until the Gods fell silent once more. All of a sudden, prayers went unanswered, holy warriors lost their blessings, and century-old pacts between the divine and their loyal servants were severed. Without warning, the very presence of the Gods vanished behind their ancient temple doors, and try as they might, no mortal could budge them to see where their beloved deities had gone to.

Despair settled across the lands.

Then, three great storms erupted in the corners of the world. These unnatural tempests tore through the kingdoms of mortals, bringing with them obtuse weather patterns that threw the very seasons off of their normal cycle. Crop fields flooded. Thunderstorms split ancient trees in twain. And blizzards raged through the southern plains.

Naturally, the Demons showed themselves not long after -- taking advantage, yet again, of the ever-growing fractures between the realms to slip through and resume their crusade for mortal bloodshed.

But neither storms nor Demons could compare to the most unexpected threat that would arise from the Silence of the Gods:

The Iron King.

For it was he, a mere mortal, who would drag the world down into another Century of Darkness. By his own hand, he fed the eternal shadow. Beneath his fist he crushed the provinces that once saw the birth of great heroes. And at his word, he was deemed the One True God of Man, and those who did not bow to his name were executed as heretics.

Fifty years passed, and no one rose against the darkness.

Truly it began to seem that the Iron King was immortal. With each passing day, his empire grew. Monolithic gateways between the realms were erected atop the bodies of slaves. More and more Demons poured into the land, ravaging it to the brink of annihilation. Those who did not bow were slain. Those who were not slain were drained and slaughtered. And those who fled were parted from their flesh by the winds of the tempests.

All seemed lost.

But a small sisterhood, working in secret, took it upon themselves to call for help from the Hall of Eternity using a circle of ancient, forbidden magic. And Ulios, the God of the Hall sent them a hero.

Just one.

A gentle-faced man with mahogany eyes and a honey-toned voice. His name was Sir Benedict. But the stories called him Gentle Ben. Certainly with a title such as that, he was ill prepared to vanquish anything -- let alone face the Iron King.

But the deed was done, and the circle was spent. The sisterhood, having used up the last of their magic, was then left with no choice but to trust Ulios' judgement and accept that this simple man was to be their hero.

"The Price of a Wish"


Once, a great many centuries ago, there was a family of faeries who had the ability to grant a mortal any wish that they desired in exchange for a single precious memory. With such a potent magic at their fingertips, they were often sought out by tenacious humans who desired fame, fortune, and power of their own. As such, over the years, the faeries granted hundreds of wishes; and in the process great heroes were born, terrible tyrants rose to power, and bizarre fauna were crafted from the fantasies of mundane folk looking to escape their simple lives.

Yet, although satisfied with their ever-growing collection of memories, the fae grew tired of the pestering and desired nothing more than to be left alone.

So one day, they vanished.

Unsurprisingly, most humans, fickle as they were, forgot about the wish-granting faeries within just a couple of generations. But, there were those who remembered; and who, determined to a fault, continued to seek the fae out – for they and their wishes would not be denied.

Then, over the next decade, each member of the faerie family was hunted down and forced to grant wish after wish for the insatiable, greedy humans who would go on to birth an empire so great and so terrible that the sun never set on its sprawling kingdom. And the fae, pushed to their very limit, perished at the hands of these mortals until only one was left – the old grandmother who managed to escape thanks to the help of a few kind souls. Alone, she fled into the wilderness where, although back in touch with the mothers of nature, she collapsed just off of an old abandoned road where a young, kind faced boy happened to be passing by humming an old folk tune to himself.

Desperate for a drink of water, the old fae overcame her distrust and asked the young human for help. The boy stopped and looked to helpless woman. He did not know the stories of their wish-granting powers, for they had well enough faded from mortal memory. No, the boy only saw a gentle old woman in need of help, so he quickly reached for his pouch and handed her his water sack. She thanked him and drank, but it was not enough.

The old fae was going to die.

Realizing her demise was close at hand, the old woman beckoned the boy close and decided that, for his simple act of kindness to a stranger, she would pass her wish-granting powers on to him – though this had never been done before and, certainly, she was not sure how they would manifest within a mortal. Nevertheless, in her final moments, the old faerie placed a kiss upon the boy’s forehead and died.

All of a sudden, the boy felt the great old magic begin to flow through him. In that moment he knew, but could not explain how, that he had been given the ability to do great things. And so he looked to the tall, obelisk-like towers of the empire that had, for his entire life, enslaved his father, whipped his mother, and starved his friends and he wished for the power to stop the pain once and for all.

Then, just like that, a memory slipped away (a mundane memory, to be exact, for the wish-granting powers work quite differently in the hands of a mortal), and the boy’s mind was flooded with skill and knowledge that he had never before imagined. At once, the boy knew how to hold a sword and how to fight; he knew how to maneuver through the midst of a battlefield and how to beat opponents twice his size; he knew how to inspire people and raise entire armies out of farmers and countrymen.

The boy knew how to be a hero, so that is what he became.

Although he was just a child, he, armed with the wish-granting magic, went on to inspire and lead a revolution against the tyrannical kings in a war which ended in liberation. And with the empire defeated, the boy was celebrated for the amazing things that he had done, and the world slipped into a brief, quiet age of peace.

But the boy’s mind could not rest. His head buzzed with the magic of the fae and his body, having been granted amazing skills, wondrous gifts, and terrible magics, would not calm. He yearned for another taste of fame and recognition, yet no evils rose for him to conquer.

So, the boy closed his eyes and wished – and out of his wish came a great and terrible dragon which burned entire villages, wiped out vast fields of livestock, and slaughtered innocents all across the countryside.

Suddenly, the boy was needed once again.

He sprung into action, defeated the dragon, and found himself showered in praise, gifts, and political influence once more. But then it was only a matter of time before boredom struck and the boy felt compelled to give up more of his memories for more opportunities to be seen as a hero.

The cycle continued until the boy became a man. Every so often, a new monster or demon or tyrant would rise out of the blue, and the hero would step in and save the people. Sometimes, the boy would accidentally wish for a creature that he could not defeat. But more wishes easily fixed that problem. In time, the people ran out of ways to thank their savior.

Yet it was never enough for the boy, who continued to fill the world with darker and more twisted monstrosities for him to face off against. After a while, he stopped craving the fame and began to crave a challenge. But when even that no longer became satisfying enough, the selfish, impulsive “hero” began to make wishes just to cater to his own passing whims.

The world fell into chaos, and people quickly learned who was responsible. In their eyes, the young man stopped being a hero, and instead became a plague. He was shunned at first, but the didn’t stop the wishes. Then, they begged him to relent. Nevertheless, he continued. So, faced with the torment being unleashed upon their lands, a coalition of kings and queens conspired to have him assassinated.

The silent mercenary attacked the once famed hero as he slept. But he awoke and killed his assailant. Then the young man fled deeper into the forests, away from the society that now hated him, and compulsively wished himself down to only a handful of memories.

In the end, the boy, now a man, wished away almost all of his memories and awoke in the middle of a dark and sinister wood with nothing but the face of his mother lingering in his mind. Knowing not even his name, the young man made a small home for himself in the trunk of an enormous old oak. And it was there that he lived alone and afraid, because every so often a stranger would come to his door and try to kill him, and he never knew why.

But what if, instead of trying to harm the young man, someone recognized that he was no longer the impulsive, sadistic fool that had wished the world into turmoil, but rather a frightened and confused man who wanted nothing more than to know compassion?

Perhaps, then, something worthwhile could be done to heal the discord.
W I P



P R I N C E ❤ P R I N C E S S
C O M M O N E R ❤ P R I N C E S S
K N I G H T ❤ P R I N C E S S
A S S A S S I N ❤ P R I N C E S S
P R I N C E ❤ V A M P I R E S S
K N I G H T ❤ V A M P I R E S S
G U N S L I N G E R ❤ V A M P I R E S S
H U N T E R ❤ V A M P I R E S S
V A M P I R E ❤ V A M P I R E S S
C O M M O N E R ❤ A N G E L
C O M M O N E R ❤ D E M O N E S S

F I N .

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Tim the Yeti
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T I M T H E Y E T I
F U L L N A M E : Timothy T. Yeti
A L I A S E S : Tim; Lord of Yetis; King of the Frosted Beasts; Master of the Winter Wind;
A G E : Unknowable
R A C E : Yeti
G E N D E R : Male
R O L E : King; Warrior; Scribe;
H E I G H T : 7'0" (~2.13M)
W E I G H T : ~300lbs
B U I L D : Tall; Brutish; Muscular;
S K I N T O N E : Pale
H A I R S T Y L E : Full Body
H A I R C O L O R : White
B R I E F B I O

"Tim" is the common human name given to the great Yeti King in the far northern mountains. He is tall, beautiful, and strong; and he earned his place upon the icy throne by vanquishing a great glacial leviathan with the help of a powerful frozen blade. Now, he is the Lord of the Yetis, and it is his job to defend his people from outsiders, demons, and primordial beasts. Tim takes his job quite seriously. It is the only thing that can draw him from his studies.

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Art Credit: When Worlds Collide by YouveBeen0wned


To say that The Shattering was a cataclysm is to grossly understate the sheer magnitude of the event for those who lived through it. While it is indeed difficult to approximate what it might have felt like so long after the era in question, it cannot be understated just how apocalyptic it is for the fabric of the cosmos to come undone as it did; the way that it unraveled like a broken tapestry beneath the very feet of those who'd not realized that they'd made a mistake in thinking it stable was nothing less than a force of utter existential doom. It was, to all who were present, the end of the world. The end of everything. And even some thousands of years later, we have yet to experience anything that can compare.
Archmagus Erasmus, year unknown

Emerson supposed he should have counted himself fortunate when he was spared death at the hands of The Shattering. In the early days especially, it wasn't uncommon for someone to just up and disappear as worlds collided into one another; as whole realities that one hadn't even been privy to the existence of folded on top of one another. But it was only in the beginning that people believed their neighbors were disappearing. The horrible truth that they'd later learn was that those who vanished were being dissolved by the cataclysm, their very essence picked apart piece by agonizing piece until they were no more. Folk called it being unmade. Some even believed that the very memories of these poor souls were consumed as well. But it's hard to say when nobody can remember them.

Though lucky to have his life, Emerson didn't come out of the early Shattering wholly unscathed. He lost his home. The bakery his late older sister left him, and the little garden that went along with it, had been picked apart right before his eyes and sent cascading through the rapidly shrinking cosmos. He'd spent a lot of time in that garden. Putting his hands in the dirt and coaxing flowers to take root made him feel close to her, somehow. His whole life in pieces, splayed out across disparate worlds and fractured realities.

All of it, just gone.

And for a while, Emerson wept over that fact. His neighbor, bless her, kindly let him stay at her house --- what was left of it, anyway --- until he'd cried all the tears he had. By the end, he'd not run out of sorrow, just space in the well of his heart to put it in. What overflowed had to go somewhere and Em wasn't known for being the idle sort. So he set to work. Fueled by the ache in his chest, he went about with a plan to find what had been taken from him.

Maisie let him use her kitchen on the condition that she got to sample a little bit of everything he made. He agreed, of course, and set to work. For days he got up early and made all sorts of things --- rich and doughy breads, flaky butter-glazed rolls, and sweet tea-cakes of lemon and lavender. By the end of almost a week, he supposed he had enough to bribe his way into what he needed.

Emerson went about the remnants of his old home. The village didn't look so much like he remembered it, but ghosts of what used to be still lingered in places; memories that were harder to break apart than the buildings they clung to. The blacksmith was still there, but the man who kept the bellows going was nowhere to be found. Only his daughter remained, and she was more than happy to trade a couple of swords to Emerson for a tray of cakes and some good loaves of bread. She even pointed him in the direction of a leather worker for an extra roll.

In this way, Em gathered up all he needed to set out into the world: a couple swords, a bow and some arrows, a pack to travel by, and some shoes that'd last him a good long while. The rest of what he needed he'd have to get along the way.

And with that, Emerson bid Maisie farewell and plunged into the unknown.

Em hadn't been a terribly good baker to start, but he learned. For Izzy's sake, and the sake of the bakery, he learned. He would learn this, too. And anything else he needed to to get back what was his. His home, even if it wouldn't quite look the same when he got it.

Then again, neither would he.

A B O U T M E

Hello! You can call me Tim (he/him). I'm a 30 year old man now who is returning after a brief (*cough cough* 5 year) hiatus from roleplaying. That being said, I've never stopped writing and so I'm excited to hopefully get back into the swing of things before too long. I have ample experience dating back to around 2009 when DeviantArt chat roleplaying was a thing. Needless to say, I've been hooked ever since. Outside of writing I work and have a few hobbies that keep me occupied, but I'm never the sort to let a roleplay slip without notifying my partner. Open communication is key!

R P P R E F E R E N C E S
★ = strongly desired!

  • A Game Master1 ★★
  • Using Discord to Roleplay ★
  • High Casual - Advanced (except during scenes with heavy dialogue/action)
  • Focus on World Building and Character Relationships
  • OOC Planning (Story Arcs, Character Arcs, Antagonists, Plotting, etc.)
  • M/F Romantic Pairings (Female Partner Preferred)
  • Story:Smut Ratio = 60:40 or 70:30 (ask about my kink list in DMs~)
  • Monster Girls2 (not furries, sorry!)

1 Please note that, while I do ask that my partner is open to acting as a Game Master of sorts, I do not expect for the bulk of the roleplaying labor to be placed upon your shoulders. Ideally, the process of crafting the story will still be collaborative, with both of us having input on various story elements, plot points, and aspects of the various worlds coming together in this cataclysm. Please, if you ever feel like you're taking on too much of the roleplaying burden, let me know so we can talk about re-configuring the division of labor so to speak so that it's more amenable to both of us.

2 Please ALSO note that my request for monster girls does not mean that I ONLY wish you to play monster girls. I'll gladly accept more common races such as Humans, Elves, Vampires, etc. My request was never meant to replace the standard, but rather to add to it.

T H E G A M E M A S T E R

As mentioned before, I am looking for someone who is willing to take on the role of GM. What this means, at least to me, is that you will largely be in charge of the overall scope of the world, the adventures, and the myriad of other people that my character, Emerson, comes across along his journey. In this way, I hope you will feel empowered to come up with all sorts of fun and interesting characters that you enjoy playing! Perhaps some of these characters will even stick along for the journey, or maybe they'll only be around for a short while. It's totally up to you and I'm absolutely happy to keep an open line of dialogue for brainstorming characters and situations (ideally even spicy ones) that you will have fun with.

Beyond just the story and world, there are other, perhaps more game-like elements that I would also really be interested in including such as:
  • Keeping up with semi-realistic travel time
  • Tracking food and supplies
  • Needing to make money to buy said supplies (or a room to stay for the night)
  • Picking up odd-jobs for a while when there isn't an adventure to be had --- after all, somebody has got to scrub the royal dishes
  • Carry-weight consideration, forcing Emerson to perhaps rent a wagon if he really wants to fully loot that abandoned old mine

Overall, I want to make sure the experience is as fun for you as it will be for me, so if there is an element that you're not as enthusiastic about, please let me know so we can talk about it and find a solution we are both happy with!
G E N R E S

FANTASY || ACTION || ADVENTURE || ROMANCE

S E T T I N G S

STONE-AGE || BRONZE-AGE || MEDIEVAL || VICTORIAN || STEAMPUNK || SILKPUNK || DIESELPUNK

T H A N K Y O U

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post. If any or all of this seems interesting to you, please reach out to me via PMs so we can discuss further and really get to sinking our teeth into the world together. In your initial message, please try to give me a good sense for who you are, your writing proclivities, and what sorts of scenarios/characters/plots/spicy situations you may be interested in playing out. I'd even love it if you gave me examples of some of your writing to give me a sense of whether or not our styles are compatible.
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