-- //PARTNER FOUND// -- Modern Fantasy -- F for M character/s -- [closed]

Started by Alive Until Dead, November 13, 2017, 07:52:12 PM

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Alive Until Dead

THE OOC need to knows


  • I am Remmy, the female 30+ writer behind "Alive Until Dead" aka AUD; sexual tension and plot are equally desired, the playing of sex will happen when it happens.
  • My O/O page can be found HERE; yes, please take a gander at what I like before contacting me-- I will do the same before writing any replies to messages of interest.
  • My Recent Posts can be found HERE; yes, please take a look and skim/read through some before contacting me-- and know I expect similar levels of depth and engagement from my partners.
  • This request thread is for ONE main female character I want to play, with SEVERAL different plot concepts to choose from (supporting characters are open for discussion.)
  • My Character (MC), the main female lead, picture base/likeness is non-negotiable-- if her visual appearance doesn't appeal to you, this request isn't for you. (Viki Odintcova is her name, though I'm selective of which images I'll be using.)
  • Agreeing to discuss role play with you does not mean I am agreeing to play-- often I find the discussion phase a great "field test" so to speak, for player compatibility.
  • Last but NOT least, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE use a relevant subject line when sending a message, and include (in your message) what you like most about the idea/s and what you're currently thinking in regards to who/what you want to play as your character. 




Beylin Basics
* These stats and facts will remain constant regardless of the plot unless otherwise noted or discussed.




  • NAME::- Beylin La'Mar
  • HEIGHT::- Five Feet, Two Inches
  • WEIGHT::- One Hundred Ten Pounds
  • EYE COLOR::- Light Grey
  • HAIR COLOR::- Ginger Orange/Red
  • SCARS::- When brought back to life, None-- some scars from non-fatal injuries may linger but still fade much faster than a normal human.
  • PIERCINGS::- None
  • TATTOOS::- Scripted/Encrypted Cross on her back between her shoulder blades, Scripted/Encrypted scripture across her collarbone toward her left shoulder.

  • GENERAL PERSONALITY::- Honest when not Evasively Deceptive, Cunning even in her Quietness, Methodically Controlled when not Passionately Impulsive,  Selectively Seductive, Survivoristically lethal, Mission/Goal Oriented, Hyper-aware and Detailed.   
  • GREATEST WEAKNESS::- Children in harms way
  • GREATEST STRENGTH::- Her intellect
  • DEEPEST DESIRE::- To feel at home somewhere
  • CURSE::- Not to age and to come back to life regardless of manner of death.  (Magically reassembled if necessary, though every death comes with various hindrances once breathing again-- an explosion, for example, would make her a temporary amnesiac who'd have to relearn walking, eating, etc until the memories are restored/rebuilt/returned.)
  • LIVING GOAL::- To learn from every mistake.




PLOT IDEAS
*These plot ideas are kept short and open to allow creator freedoms during discussion.

1. Government Issued -=- The White House Chief of Staff was assassinated. The assassin avoided being identified from all available camera footage and shot the one eye-witness he crossed, in the head. All leads seem hopeless until their eye-witness comes back from the dead just before autopsy. (I imagine the assassin being seen on camera walking past Beylin into a building to make a sniper shot, she follows-- presumably to stop him or check it out, but he knows and is waiting for her-- she walks right into a silenced 45 cal bullet to the head. Possible pairings could be (a)the Government assigned Doc who was going to do her autopsy and then gets assigned to monitor her recovery/study her, (b) a Government Agent/Investigator assigned to get and relay what she knows whilst protecting/handling her until she recovers fully and/or gives them what they want... or (c) The Assassin who's also a Government Agent/Official/Scientist who's pulled strings or been assigned to her case. Also open to an idea you might have that I didn't think of.)   


2. Bad Biker Bar, Beylin -=- Beylin's on a personal road trip tracking down a few linguists to help translate her tattoo's, along the way she gets a halfway decent hotel room across from local biker bar. She knows nothing of it or them when she decides to walk over and have a few drinks. Entering without a male escort, she unknowingly is perceived to be offering herself to the bikers; verbal evasion turns to physical evasion and a few laughs until drinks get spilled-- a fight breaks out and Beylin slit's a man's throat with a broken bottle trying to get out of the bar. (I imagine play to begin when she walks in the bar, details thus, should be discussed. Pairing interests include:(a) warlock/mage bartender who recognizes the script on her tattoo's enough to realize she's cursed and feel inclined to intervene by claiming her, (b) a high ranking biker who typically obtains from feminine entanglements but has the power to halt the bar and call it as it is, a tourist who took a wrong turn, (c) An Undercover Cop/Agent who's there as a Dealer of some variety, who's as surprised by the slaying as everyone else, but the quickest to chime in and make up a role and reason for her being there that wont get her killed or raped. Of course, please offer any idea you have I haven't listed.)


3. Dinner for a Debt -=- Beylin owes a guy, the guy owes another guy and his guy needs a dinner date who can be a visual distraction, keep her mouth shut, behave and not expect anything from him. Bey gets recruited into the date role with little more than a dress, location and time to be there for pick up.  (I imagine Bey doesn't know who her date is, where they're going or exactly how long the dinner will be. Pairing/Plot interests are: (a) a billionaire bachelor going to a business dinner that requires he bring a date to land a deal, (b) a high stakes criminal/killer out to get a job done, (c) a break-out Artist -- painter, sculptor, mixed-media-- going to dinner negotiation for his next contracted exhibition, curated by a woman who hasn't yet taken no for an answer. For sure also open to your ideas on this one.)



4. Wrong House -=- Bey's keeping a low profile, so when she needs a place to stay she pics a place and unrolls her sleeping bag. This time she's wrong about it being vacant but doesn't realize it until she's settling down to sleep and a man walks in on her. (Pairing and Plot interests are are follows: (a) vacant house save the squatter who got there before her, (b) reclusive homeowner who's recently been down on his luck and quite dormant within his home, (c) builder/renovator who's been living in the home while he repairs/renovates it.
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Remmy says: "Be happy in the now or know not happiness!"

Alive Until Dead

QuoteI felt like test-writing for her, since she's a new character, so I chose to use #3, Dinner for a debt to give me some setting and direction. This is what I came up with...



Donnie worked on her bike when she was in his area. One such time included cleaning blood out of the spokes, which he was very adverse to doing-- so she owed him one. His shop was three generations old and clearly all he really knew, aside from a curiously diverse array of people whose transportation he'd worked on. He had all three bays open, and the office door propped full swing with a box-fan aimed inward. AC was out again and he liked sweating enough not to fix it until he had to for one of his clients. Which wasn't her. She didn't rank special enough to warrant any kind of red-carpet treatment. She knew he knew she was there by the custom Indian Scout, modeled after the 1935 version and about 3/4ths the size, titanium instead of steel. It's light weight made up for the loss in engine power, making it as fast and durable as she needed it-- most of the time. Rolling onto the rear stand she eyed the black 70's Impala he had in the first bay, up on the lift. It was far more appealing to look at (to her) than the yellow 2015 Mustang getting new tires, or the 2016 Ford F150 in the middle of getting a lift-kit installed.

Donnie kept on as he was, never even glanced her way as she killed the engine and pocketed the key in the right front pocket of her dusty leather jacket. She unzipped it as she threw her booted foot over the backside to stand in his otherwise empty, dirt,  parking lot. The only greeting she got as denim wrapped legs strolled her toward bay three, was from the shop-dog, Diesel, a black-lab mastiff mix that was all teddy bear; at least around her. He came out ass wagging a bushy tail that seemed too heavy for him to keep up. His eyes were wide and his mouth in an open pant to support his labored trot out of the office to get her attention before she had Donnie's.

"Dashing as always Diesel... your age is showing." She commented with a smirk as her hands feathered over the spots of grey blemishing his otherwise full black coat. She gave him the full ear-to-shoulderblade rub down before beating on his backside like it was a drum, "The Diesel-butt-drum." She mused with a chuckle as the dog danced and made happy sounds like they do when they scratch their backs. "Yeah, I know your tune, mongrel... You're a big baby Diesel, you know you are." Bey added with a coo as he sat on her boot-toes and leaned into her legs for a chest and belly rub. The drifter was a sucker for animals in general, so she afforded the mutt the affection he wanted, bent at the waist herself, stretching over him to reach and doing the best she could not to let him push her over. He weighed more than she did.

" You need a bath don't you? Good thing I'm wearing gloves huh? That's right Diesel, you're a good boy." She cooed some more, talking to him like he actually understood because a part of her believed he could-- not the words but the sentient intentions of communication. He was happy, that much was obvious and for now, that was enough for her. Bey gave his chest a few solid pats before she scruffed the fur and skin to give it a wiggled tug, "Alright big-guy, I got business to attend to."

Diesel was intelligent enough to have caught onto her routine, he may not have know what the words actually meant but he knew it meant she was done loving on him and about to walk into the shop. He rolled off her feet into a stand and waddle-walked head of her toward Donnie and the F150, his tail wagging hard enough to throw off his gate. He seemed such a dopey dog in that moment, happy to lead her to his master, who at the very least, fed him well. Donnie looked the same as he usually did, lanky and as tall as he was greasy. Not just engine oil and the sort, sweat too, with only the smell of the shop to help taper the stench of the man. If he wasn't as good as he was he'd have no business, that was for sure. Alas, he wasn't lacking in clients, which made her unsure why he'd called for her assistance, she wasn't a mechanic and he knew that.

She swept the few strands of fiery hair, from her face, that were too short for the braid that lay thick between her shoulder blades. Sunglasses were the next obstruction to be lifted from her line of sight as she entered the third bay behind Diesel, who walked right past Donnie and took the shop-door into the office to reclaim his bed under the desk Donnie hardly used. She knew him long enough to know, long enough for him to know about her curse. Also long enough to know she unsettled him, which was a bit funny to her considering she was half his height and only as strong as her mortal body allowed.

"Hey, Donnie... I'm here, care to tell me why?"

He didn't stop what he was doing, or turn to look at her when he replied, "You said I could call you if I needed a favor, and I need a favor."

Beylin held back the desire to sigh at him and instead walked right up beside him, taking small shallow breaths to spare herself the sting of his need to take an afternoon shower. With her voice almost at a whisper it took on a smokey tone as alluring as it was edged, "You called. I'm here. What is the favor that will explain why I am here?"

"Oh, right. I owe a customer a favor and he knows I know people, like you know I know people, so when he said he needed me to find him a date for a dinner who could keep her mouth shut, be distracting, not expect anything from him, and behave.. I called you."

"Behave? What does that mean? Mind my manners or obey?"

"Uh.. both, maybe.."

"You don't know."

"I don't know." He relented, finally glancing at her, just a quick look before he busied himself with a wrench again.

"So you want me to repay the favor I owe you by being another guy's dinner date?"

"Yes."

"Deal."

"Deal? Just like that?" He asked, stopping and giving her his perplexed attention. "You don't have any questions?"

"Well, I obviously need to know where I'm going and what I should wear but no. It's a blind date to fulfill a favor, not my first blind date, though the first for a debt, if it makes us square, I accept. So, where am I going?"

"Oh, uh, I have..." he began as he dropped the wrench in the rolling tool box beside him to walk further in the shop to the filing cabinets, which spanned almost the whole wall. He may have been dirty but he was organized. "He gave me an envelope for you." He explained as he opened a drawer like he remembered exactly where he put it, pulling out a simple business envelope and handed it to her like a child handing their parents the candy they shouldn't have taken.

"Thanks. See you the next time I need your services, Donnie." She replied as she plucked the envelop from his hand and turned about on her heels. On her way out she opened the envelope to take inventory of the contents. There were two cards, business card size, but not business cards. One was stamped with a date, time, and place; the other a pick-up card for a dress. She wasn't familiar with the establishment, but then again, she didn't wear dresses that often either.




Beylin was severely under dressed for the Dutch Colonial building that housed the boutique she was sent to for the dress. She could tell by the way the attending lady scrunched her face the second she saw the petite biker enter the lightly perfumed, immaculately cleaned "special interests" dress shop. An expression which flipped up the second Bey held out the pick-up card she'd been given. It was like a switch had been flipped and the woman no longer saw the wavy mess of braided hair, dusty jacket, weather-worn denim and biker boots.. She was looking at a woman Beylin almost thought had to be standing behind her. When the lady spoke, her tone was inviting and intrigued, "Bold yet elegant taste, this one. Right this way, Darling, you can just hang your jacket in the fitting room and I'll bring the dress out in three sizes, let you decide which one fits best."

Beylin didn't say a word. She smiled politely and followed along, trying not to look as uneasy as she felt. The fitting room was like a walk in closet, with an actual door. Inside there was a small lounge couch, artwork, and a coat-rack. Spacious for a fitting room, she thought as she unzipped and shrugged off her jacket to hang it on the rack as instructed invited. By the time she took a deep breath staring back at herself from the full size mirror taking up an entire wall, the lady was back with three black dresses. Like a snake she made her way into the room and set the dresses across the lounge couch like delicate lace. There was lace, actually, but the dress didn't look so frail as they were being handled. Bey's wolfish gaze ticked across each dress, ignoring the once-over she was given as the woman realized Bey was only wearing a bra under the jacket, while the half-naked La'Mar wondered what kind of place allowed such a racy dress for dinner wear.

Bey likewise paid no mind to the woman's, "if you need anything" speech and simply stared at the dresses until she heard the door close behind her. All of three seconds later and she was swallowing her reservations and unzipping her jeans as she toed her boots off-- she rarely buckled them up and never laced them. Denim came off, leaving her knee-high stockings on, slumped just below her knees, Bey took up the smallest dress and tested the stretch of the fabric. It was forgiving, but not stretchy. High thread count. She didn't know enough about fabric to know what kind it was but it felt soft enough she was at least curious how it would feel wearing it. The dress was tossed on the couch unceremoniously long enough for the redhead to take off her bra so she could see how it looked as it was meant to be worn.

She had to shimmy a little, into the dress, which subsequently pulled at her panties. It was tightest around her hips and bosom. She only briefly considered whether or not the waist could be tailored but decided she'd rather it be a little loose around the waist so she didn't feel too restricted and exposed at the same time. The dress showed less skin than just wearing a bra but she still felt more... out there... in the dress. It's a 'fuck me' dress, she thought to herself, Maybe just on you it looks that way, she reasoned back, turning to look in the mirror. The black lace slits up to her hips made her swallow the fact she couldn't wear underwear with the dress. It made her gut heavy with worry-- not that she probably hadn't been through worse than whatever the dinner had in store, but that never really made it any easier, walking into potential danger. Particularly looking like a high-end escort.

For preparation sake she slid the dress up as far as it would go without ripping and fished her panties from betwixt her legs to pull them down her thighs. Bey shamelessly left the white brief cut undies around her ankles as she looked again, at herself in the mirror. Impulsively rubbing her palms over the lace as her eyes wandered and her hips turned so she could see how her backside looked. Round. With a shake of her head she dismissed the curiosity and stared at the V display of her breasts. Who's going to look at your ass when these babies are half tucked in and fully mounted? Both of her hands gave her breasts a testing squeeze, shake and jiggle, watching to make sure her flesh wouldn't fall out without effort. Bey stretched and marveled at how the design held, squeezing her breasts every which way except when she crossed her arms. It was the only time the V cut was loose enough for a peep show. She couldn't straddle or do a split in the dress but she could take long steps if she needed to and hike it almost mid-thigh if she needed to run.

She didn't hate it.

The longer she wore it the more she had to admit it did make her feel sexy. Her heart was a little elevated at that, reminding her it'd been a while since sexy was on the table. What kind of dinner is this? she pondered with a narrowing gaze at her own reflection. A question she was sure to think several more times before she found out. Pale gray eyes drifted to make contact in the mirror before wandering her face as she debated whether or not to wear any make up. The dress said yes, but Bey wasn't sure she wanted to make the full effort.. then she might look like she's actually trying to get laid. Expect nothing from him, that was one of the stipulations. You can wear makeup without making him think you're trying to seduce him because if you were you wouldn't be going, right? Her own face told her it was more complicated and also opportunistically simpler than that.

A sigh escaped her, one he'd been holding in for a while.

Beylin inwardly hoped she could keep the dress and wear it some time of her choosing, presently relenting to the fact she was going to a blind-date and she was wearing this dress. One she probably wouldn't have chosen on her own, and knew that might have been part of the appeal in wearing it. She wasn't that great at pretending to be someone or something she wasn't but the dress had a way of making her feel different than her daily self. If all was on the up and up it was a chance to check out of her life for a moment and enjoy being an attractive woman, if it turned out to be a sour shit-show, she could bail, right? Worst case, add it to the list of death's and damnation she'll eventually forget ever happened. Small threads of hope.

"Is everything alright in there?"

The disembodied voice beyond the door startled Bey into reflexively trying to cover up. A bra was casual, the dress was... far from casual. She cleared her throat and relaxed her posture a little, "Perfect, I'll be out in just a few moments, thank you."

Enough was enough. The dress came off with more purpose and effort than it'd been put on, slopped on the couch while she pulled her panties up and slid back into her bra. Jeans were yanked back on and fastened in a hurry. Be it her imagination or otherwise she felt like the woman was listening through the door. It was creepy. Stepping back into her boots she snatched the dress with one hand and her jacket with the other, using her right elbow to push the lever of a knob and swing the door open.

"Oh, excuse me, I'm sorry. No tailoring?" The lady asked like she was surprised to see Beylin not wearing the dress.


"Not necessary, and I have shoes, thank you." Spoken on her way out the door.

Yes, she was in a hurry to leave. For all she knew there were hidden cameras and the man she was supposed to be going on a dinner date with, was watching. It may have been paranoia but she preferred to follow her instinct to get out. The dress was rolled up and stuffed into the saddle bag as soon as she got to her bike, a little apologetically. Simultaneously mounting the bike and swinging on her jacket, Beylin zipped it up and rolled forward off the stand, tucking it in place with the heel of her boot as she fished out the key...





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Remmy says: "Be happy in the now or know not happiness!"

Alive Until Dead

#5 Jurassic Hunt (a genre mash up)


  • Using the movie "Jurassic World" as inspiration, this plot I'm imagining the Island and existing wildlife were abandoned and quarantined -- whether it was a research center or theme park prior to shut down. Ocean towers surrounding the island a few miles off shore, their circle making an electromagnetic/magic dome perimeter that keeps even the flying and swimming varieties contained within the Island quarantine area.
  • I imagine x-amount of red-tape and legalities later, they've turned it into an extreme sports hunting game preserve, where you can hunt classic dinos and genetically engineered/designed dinos-- for a hefty fee and liability waiver accepting responsibility for your own life, despite having guided hunts.
  • I imagine my partner playing an "Owen Grady" type character in the sense of training and bonding with raptors for hunting large dino game-- using inspiration from the TV show "Terra Nova" that could include vicious and cunning "slashers" or the more classic T-Rex and so on. Part of the more "elite" hunting circuit.Because I love supernatural/fantasy, I'm totally game with him having a "beast master" like ability that really does give him the animal authority to command a raptor/raptor pack.
  • Hunts can be day trips or tented/tree-camping weekly extensions, I'm thinking. Bring your own gear and full service options available. The Island would be mostly divided into sectors for the different level of hunters and game being hunted. As such, I'm imagining only one hunting party per sector (not that, in play, we can't find reason to throw in a twist of double-booking.)
  • Beylin would be part of a small hunting group assigned to your character, their guide and lead hunter. While Beylin isn't an elite hunter, she is considerably wealthy and could afford to buy her way into the top level hunting experience, a week among the most dangerous dinos on the Island with five other men and their guide.
  • The other men would be NPC's and dino-dinner played by the both of us as we felt inclined through the stories progression. I imagine one other member having paid their way in, at least one other supernatural/music user who perhaps hunts that way, and the others, I don't know. We can discuss what might be a fun mix to play among and write dino-deaths for. xD
  • In my mind, play would begin on a base somewhere outside the Island perimeter, where hunters sign their waivers, check their gear and meet with their guide before everyone flies in and gets dropped on the Island somewhere.
  • As for leaving the Island, I considered a variety of things from magic portal to zip-lines out to barges that sail across their barrier via science or magic and return to the outside base.


That's what I have for now. Hope it inspires some interest and ideas of your own.
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Remmy says: "Be happy in the now or know not happiness!"