Avatar of Kaithe Dame

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Recent Statuses

3 mos ago
Disco Elysium fans should check out Esoteric Ebb on Steam. It's got a demo and is available for wishlisting.
1 like
5 mos ago
"It is the Echo. A wound that travels still, that when heard, made me understand that there was another wounded as I was. When I heard it, I loved you more than I loved my own life." - Visas Marr.
2 likes
2 yrs ago
Celebrating my 666th day here by modifying my prompt to be more hellish.
2 likes
4 yrs ago
Vintage lesbians are cool.

Bio

I write about fiscally irresponsible politicians in fictional 17th century settings, porn, and combination of those two things. Writing sample along with 'published' writing shown below for interested people.

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

literotica.com/my/#/works/stories/pub…

Most Recent Posts

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This post is looking for a GM. I have posts where I GM in my profile, or, if you just want something that's much kinder and happier. My partner's IRL gender isn't relevant to me. Content warning; gaslighting, Stockholm Syndrome, power gap, homophobic universe. War and death and trade deficits. Down below is just a speculative scene in the future and I expect our actual RP to take place much earlier.

Cosette knew this place. With herculean difficulty she managed to pull herself away from her older companion's grasp, but not out of unhappiness. Blinking, the ancient canals and their storied walls came into view. The water had run dry long ago, but that only allowed her to better take in the eyewatering amount of detail that had been lovingly carved into the stone; rather than indulging in perfect smoothness, its long deceased crafters allowed their passion to come in through the ridges and gaps of their work. Every meter denoted a laborer's name, and Cosette couldn't stop herself from tracing the cuts in the stone, putting the eroded, harsh sensation left behind on her fingers to memory.

She takes a breath of delight when she finds what Ilya, her escort, had intended her to find.

Loveday Allen.

Just as he'd promised, her father had left his name behind on his second proudest work -- second only to her. Over and over again he'd told her stories of this place, of the wonders of it all; especially her mother. Cosette had heard countless stories of this place, and it was everything she'd ever hoped it could be. But Ilya knew it as the place she was born.

Cosette turned towards the senator, smiling with aching joy.

"How . . . how did you possibly find it?"

"How did you find me?"

Cosette manages to ask the question that's been hanging over their heads like an executioner's axe, forcing her feet to stop, dragging her sister to a sudden, immediate stop.

The gates aren't far now. Neither are the howls behind them. Ilya always was good at teaching her hounds.

"Why does that matter?" Comfort asks with a voice desperately trying to be quiet even as her fear grows. Tugging futilely at Cosette's hand to get her moving again. Cosette doesn't budge an inch, her sister's eyes widening at just how heavy Cosette is despite her slight frame. "It's a long story, and there's no time to talk."

"How?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Ilya brushes Cosette's hair out of her eyes, making the smaller woman's heart stop dead in its tracks even at this most innocent and meaningless touch. It couldn't have possibly meant anything, not to Ilya least of all, no matter what the heroine may have fantasized in her too many lonely nights. Cosette's face is flush, and she hopes disregards it as nothing more than too much joy and excitement.

"Try me."

Ilya grins, nodding, taking Cosette's hand in her own again and sending another shock of warmth through the knight. Even as they stand together in that secret, happy place together Cosette's remarkable hearing can't help but pick up on the distant thuds of boots on cobbled road. Disorderly feet marching in poor tandem, hundreds, all at once.

"Another mobilization?" Cosette asks, but Ilya shakes her head and hushes her.

"Don't worry about that. I want this day to be about you."

"I'm here for you!"

Comfort finally rasps out, trying to pull away from her idiot sister only to feel Cosette's grip tighten like steel, forcing a whine out of the supposed rescuer.

"You're hurting me!"

"You haven't answered me."

"It . . . it doesn't matter how I found you, okay? Just that we leave. Just that you get away from her."

It happens in a single harsh second. One moment Comfort is standing before her, the next, she's lying on the ground, her eyes widened with shock and her mouth agape as she tries to understand what just happened.

The pain hasn't settled in on her just yet, and Cosette's stomach twists with agony at the thought of all the suffering her sister would needlessly have to go through. But it didn't matter. Cosette didn't ask to be saved.

"You didn't have to ask me to do this."

Ilya laughs, a noise that Cosette hears more often everyday and still believes she could listen to for the rest of her life. Cosette is in love. She ought to have been yelling it in the streets and paying criers to spread the news, but all she can feel is fear every time she thinks of it.

A member of the Fellowship could not fall in love. Not with anybody -- not with another woman. Not with somebody as important as Ilya, a woman above reproach. Above the foul urges Cosette felt towards her.

"I like seeing you smile. You and your friends have your quests and knightly errands . . . why shouldn't I have my own?"

"Making me smile?' Cosette asks, incredulously. "Hardly befitting a senator."

"Very well. Making all of you smile, then. Maybe we'll bring your kin with us next time we visit."

"Do you love me?"

Cosette blinks. Ilya settles into view, the dark lush of her hair swinging over both of them like a dark cloak. Her instincts for war barely acknowledge the presence of ten men around them, each armed to the teeth with instruments meant for killing. To a number, diehards, to the Republic. To Ilya. Their armaments dance with light through the creeping shadows of the city. It always looks so different at night. Even here.

Even at the canals where her father had met her mother. The menace makes her spine curl in its socket. Where was his name, again?

Ilya cups Cosette's cheek, lifting it up to help her focus. On her eyes, an impossible shade of green. On her lips, softer than her mother's heartbeat. The hand on her cheek turns into a thumb, rubbing smoothing, slow circles.

"Do you love me?" Ilya repeats. Cosette shivers. Ilya never repeated herself a third time. Her enemies never lived to hear it, and her pets wouldn't dare fail her that many times.

"Yes. More than anything." Cosette answers, instantly. She hears Cosette's muffled cry of outrage, silenced with the snap of a hound's jaws.

"Good. We can go home now."

Ilya smiles, proud of Cosette's answer, and Cosette feels that same pride rise up to her chest. The confession came so easily now, all the fear and anxiety that had once plagued her wiped out in just these short few months together. Comfort stops existing for the two women -- everything stops existing. The soldiers, the hounds, the city, the end of the world.

It's just the two of them. In this special place.

And they loved one another. They did.

The end.

. . .

. . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"One thing."

Cosette whines as Ilya pulls her perfect hand away, and is understandably confused when something heavier settles itself into Cosette's right-hand. It's a long lost friend of hers. A tool for vanquishing evil, the sort of thing meant for protecting the weak.

Ilya brushes Cosette's hair past her ear, leaning in close as her fingers close around Cosette's hand to help her form a fist around the grip of the blade.

"Kill your sister for me."

Pretty proud of this one. The Valentine's Day version of this prompt right here. This RP takes place in a post Noblebright universe (probably, open to a great deal of modifications) that went through a devastating calamity of . . . some kind. Orcs? Demons? Undead? My mom? I've got loads of ideas but none of them are important; the key thing to know is that the old noble stock of kind-hearted guardians of the peasantry were slaughtered, leaving behind a new breed of cruel and warped landowning nobility to steer the ship in a shaken, burned out husk of what it once was. Nearly every farm was burned to ashes in the fighting, each city looted, and only the heroics of a group of women and the followers they lead were able to protect what was left.

This story isn't about them. It's about a lowly, commonborn Senator woman leading her campaign bids to become Consul in her home city that was once the thriving gem of an empire, and is now the crestfallen, economically sluggish and depopulated atrophied heart of a dying regime. The streets are either filled with refugees, soldiers, or rioting peasants decrying the stripping away of their republican values, of the latest cuts on public spending, the loss of morality, or . . . so on. Ilya, a firebrand, has promised to restore the old order and bring their dignity back home to them -- and she plans to do it with the help of the very same women who saved them all, having come to her in a last-ditch effort to find something worth defending. They hope that Ilya will give the world a nation to aspire to be; a free, democratic republic.

Except Ilya has only vile intentions.

This RP will inevitably and irrevocably involve deep explorations of complex topics such as fiscal policy, taxes, medieval statecraft, war, and geopolitics. The disinterested be wary. I am open to taking this in a fandom direction; look at my post history for frames of reference.

Kinks: Evil bitches being conniving / genuinely evil and despicable characters, femdom and lesbianism, internalized homophobia, slowburn seduction, gaslighting, D/s couples, collars, domesticization, warriors being turned into harlots, spankings, orgasm denial and 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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