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17 days ago
Speaking as somebody who's actually sat down and did a lot of retconning on the Qun to make them like Trotksyists I find the idea of roleplaying a Qunari to be pretty cool, actually.
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I like writing about strange people put into uncomfortable situations that force them to think creatively to overcome them. Brain worms currently include the Yakuza franchise, The Last Sovereign JRPG, Dragon Age, WH40K, Disco Elysium, and True Detective. Writing sample down below.

docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJh…

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This post is looking for a GM. If you're looking for a GM, feel free to look at my GM4A posts in my profile. I'm an advanced-novella writer with writing samples pinned to my profile. IRL gender isn't relevant to this prompt.

With how often extreme kinks are associated with Warhammer, I'm going to clarify now that this post isn't looking for fetishized depictions of non-con, tentacles, monsters, inter-species racism, breeding, or more than likely 70% of most 'out there' kinks you'll see on WH40K prompts. If you begin your message with 'Hey, I know you said no this kink, but what about . . .' just delete your message to save us both time. Thanks. Our servitor in question is more human than they are robot. More flesh and blood than bolts and nails.


This RP is loosely (or not so loosely) inspired by the horror game SIGNALIS, knowledge of it is not necessary, but it would help frame the tone and intent of the story. The idea goes that our main character is a Servitor; an especially privileged one given an immense amount of freedom compared to most of their kin. The reasons behind this choice are up for discussion, though I've run through a gauntlet of ideas myself including the idea that their existence as a Servitor was a deliberate, calculated amount of spite inflicted upon them. In their torturer's insistence on maximizing their suffering, they left her with autonomy, just enough sentience to recognize the horribleness of their existence.

It's a WIP. I'm open to a lot of workshopping on this bit of background information as well as others.

The actual meat and potatoes of the RP is less on the 'how' and 'why' and more on what happens afterwards; our MC forming an intense, distant love for a woman so high above their station that it borders on treason in of itself. Very much a 'haunts their dreams,' sort of shtick to the point of obsession; it's meant to be as unsettling and uncomfortable as the rest of the WH40K universe whilst still proving to be *charming* and *emotionally moving.* I've also been juggling strong possibility that the servitor is psychically gifted, though not to a powerful degree. Likely the opposite, a flicker in the Warp, that sort of thing.

The woman in question could be a lot of things; Governor's daughter, a Sister of Battle, the daughter of a company that our Servitor works at . . . so on.

I am partial to the romance either starting off as (without the Servitor knowing) or evolving into being mutual. I'm a big fan of incredibly toxic and unhealthy relationships where the victim of it has 'Ha, I'm into that shit,' as a vibe.

The plot as I see it is an equal measure of SPLATTERPUNK adventure as much as it is psychological horror, romance, and adventure rolled into one. Maybe our duo survive the death of the planet because of the servitor's actions, that sort of thing. Maybe they get possessed by a demon who's not really into the whole 'Reap all human souls,' business and is just happy to help this bucket of bolts fulfill herself.

Kinks; complicated emotions, aspects of dominance and submission (sexually and platonically), kissing, sapphic longing and yearning, spankings, collars, contrasts of all kind, 'I want to kiss and hold you but I also want to strangle you but I won't,' orgasm denial and control as well as overstimulation, underdogs 'getting the girl.' Kissing, softcore bondage. Bad lesbian flirting.

Limits: Everything I described at the top of this post. Futas. Hyper anything.
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Another addition to the compilation. This post is looking for a GM; I don't care about your IRL gender. I have posts where I GM in my profile, or, if you just want something that's much kinder and happier. There's a message pinned to my profile that has writing samples. My current running imagination is an ambitious creative retelling of Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines, hopefully making it not a half-baked RPG that falls apart 1/3 of the way through. I'm not an experienced RPG player.

Threw this together in about fifteen minutes for an event on Reddit. If there's any major errors, please let me know. Thanks.


This isn't usually her type of scene.

"It is now."

The Beast they call it -- it speaks to her sometimes. It urges her to do . . . things. Things she should think are foul, but have become as normal to her as breathing. Only, she no longer has to breath.

No. She's developed a much finer richer taste these nights.

The club and all its raging lights are a bourgie paradise of degeneracy and filth; trust fund kids, the superrich middle-aged man and his horde of young women, fuckboys . . . the smell of them all made her body run hot. A rage of colors swarm the dance floor, bodies pumping and grinding together -- so much flesh.

"Just the Breath of Life, dear. All the warmth in you is dead. There's just us now."

It wasn't a pleasant voice. Sylvan had always imagined the devil on her shoulder would be a persuasive voice, a real Lucifer. This voice wasn't. It was the angriest she'd ever heard, so full of hate and fear and hunger and . . .

"I'll be nicer once we feed. There. The blonde at the table."

Gods, but she did look fucking delicious. There was a tenderness to her skin she could never have recognized when she was still human, like a rare steak, or . . .

Okay, she didn't actually know anything about meat. She just *looked* good. They were her type, which meant they were /completely/ out of Sylvan's league in fuckability. Legs long enough to park an airplane on that would look even better wrapped around her, a chronically bored expression on her face, a long neck that would look beautiful covered in blood.

"Vitae. She might be too good for you in the sack, but she's just perfect for a meal. Go."

Sylvan's legs were moving before she could think about anything other than the line she would use to get them alone, shocked by her own lack of control . . . not that there was much to be done about it.

Not that she wanted to do anything about it when the blonde's blo-- vitae, smelled so sweet. So pure.

"Hiya," Sylvan greeted, sliding into place, smiling warmly. "What's your sign?"

Kinks: Evil bitches being conniving / genuinely evil and despicable characters, femdom and lesbianism, slowburn seduction, problematic ghoulfication, gaslighting, D/s couples, collars, domesticization, spankings, orgasm denial and control, outfit control, genuine charisma and atmosphere-building. Most other vanilla and mild kinks. Kissing, distant yearning, one-sided romance. Unhealthy obsession. Contrasts.

Limits: I don't have any desire to see non-con as a fetish (only as an element of worldbuilding just like poverty and disease and slavery), or tentacles or animals or hyper anything or porn logic or porn dialogue, futas. Stereotypical / generic worldbuilding.
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