Selectively Seeking (F for any)

[Bamagirl]

I've had a few other requests, but probably the best way for myself and everyone is to just consolidate and put it all in one place, right? Either I've played the ideas on them, I've lost interest, or- as it turns out- having focused on one or two themes has produced some of my favorite stories. "Sugah" and "Old Times...." are great examples. So with that said, I've got a few raw ideas as start points that I'd like to explore. But before we get to that, have you read my Ons/Offs page?  If we haven't written together you really should, but for the casual reader, here's the abbreviated version.

I write quite a bit, from three or four paragraphs to multiple pages, depending on the story, and my expectation is the same in return. My stories are very character driven, and I like to get to know my girl and whomever you are writing. As you can see from this thread I'm not the best when it comes to grammar, but I have a big vocabulary and I love making words into pictures. By the standards on this site I am "lit."  I'm also picky, and will go back to look over your previous posts for comparability and to measure flakiness; you should do the same with me.  (Ugh and yeah, there was that whole hiatus time, so maybe I'm preaching double standards here.)

Please do not reply on this page, send me a PM. I don't make a habit of reading my own request threads.  And now on to those ideas (which are deliberately short to remain ambiguous)!

[Bamagirl]

The Redheaded Stepchild

In discussion

She's forgotten in her own home, an afterthought.  When her mom remarried after an ugly divorce she was part of the "baggage" that went into the relationship.  Her own father is pretty much out of the picture, and when her mother and stepfather started having other kids, she slid out of the picture in her own family.  I'm thinking she's got like serious "daddy issues" and is looking for a strong male for approval, even if that means- yep, you guessed it.  Looking for partners interested in playing across from a troubled high school age, redhead girl (site limits of course).

There is a very, very slim chance I'd flip this around, she lives with her dad and stepmother and gets involved with a woman.  But yeah, like whoa- that's a challenge to write well.  If you're up for it, I'd love to know more.

Edit for clarity: This idea is not about the girl getting with her stepdad. It's about her isolation from her stepdad and real father, and her need for older male approval. Somehow that's gotten lost in translation a number of times.

[Bamagirl]

The Cruise

Not in the mood for this one lately.  COVID!

On several cruises I've been struck by the lack of supervision that goes on by parents and by the way a cruise feels like it takes on a life of its own for the week or so on the boat. How people meet and because of proximity and similar experiences strangers can grow to feel like old friends, and trysts can seem very serious, as if they've always been a couple. So combining these ideas- what happens when the younger lady with her parents finds an older guy on the boat?  The sneaking around and the chance meetings, and all sorts of fun things to write. As usual anyone interested send me a PM. A requirement is someone that has actually been on a cruise, so we can work from a common background.

[Bamagirl]

Pals

Open!

She was a good girl, and deep down she really still was. It was just that her boyfriend wasn't a good guy- or not to her anyway. His buddies though, well to him he was the best pal a guy could have.

I'm looking to write a story about a 19-20 year old college student with an older boyfriend (26-35) that shares her with his friends and has been turning up the kink in their own private time. She's smitten and has a hard time telling him no, and while the first few times she slept with his friends it was more just party-girl, give it a try stuff- now she's moving in with him. So the figurative volume is getting turned up. I don't want to get into really detailed play by play of the mechanics of this relationship, though there will be vivid detail. What is more interesting is her mindset as the debauchery gets more intense, and his as he with his friends/coworkers exploit her.

[Bamagirl]

Chola

Open.

There is a group game that probably is going to burn out I did a little research on, and this seemed like a fun story to write. I sometimes enjoy the writing challenge that goes with different cultures/ethnicities.  This idea can definitely swing a M/F or F/F, and while there will be dirty stuff (this is an adult site after all), I think it would be interesting to explore the criminal (low)life world of a female Latina gang member.  If you PM me about this one be prepared to either create a background from either personal experience, or do like me and research. No need to worry about stereotypes; that's a great place to start a story.

[Bamagirl]

The Old West

Clearly not in the cards.

I've yet to find someone that seriously wants to take this on, but I gots me a real hankerin' to write me somethin' that takes place in the American "Wild West."  Mining town, stopover fort on the Oregon Trail, trading post, or where the cattle drives end. Think Tombstone, the Unforgiven, or Silverado. I want gunslingers and gamblers, bartenders and ladies of the night, ranchers and suffragettes. Debauchery and random, deadly violence. There are a variety of protagonists we could pick out of this lot, and while I want some dirty stuff (this is an adult site), this is very much a story for story's sake.

Edit to add: So after watching Westworld my desire to write this is way higher, but paradoxically, I think my ability to come up with a good plot for it way lower.  It's the background that interests me, and I need help with a story.[/story]

[Bamagirl]

Bruises = Love

Open

She didn't know what she was getting into. He was good looking and charming, most of the time anyway. As their relationship continued though....  This is a very dark story of an abusive relationship, something where she is trapped and isolated and on some level needs the attention, even as it gets worse and worse.  I've actually written something like this with two women also, and it works just well.

[Bamagirl]

The Fat Girl

Open again.

She's got a really pretty face, takes care of herself - hair and nails and all that- but she's so very heavy. And lonely too, because being overweight her whole life means she's always been on the outside looking in when it comes to relationships and whatnot, with all the emotional baggage that comes with it. She seems happy enough, but she so desperately desires attention!  So when the much better looking person shows interest in her she's understandably wary about putting her emotions out there, but there's just no way she's gonna say "no." 

There are a million and one ways to write this, from very sweet to very bad. I'm interested in your take, male or female potential suitor.

[Bamagirl]

The Commuter

Open

So for this idea I'm thinking there's like this pervy guy who likes to grope women when he can get away with it. Like in crowds and whatnot, he let's his hands reach around, and if caught pretends its just the jostle of people in large groups. In this case he "works" the subway/transit system, rush hour, people packed into the cars of the train/tram, so he's able to get away with a lot of feeling up, and if totally busted, disappear into the anonymity of the mob, and find another victim.

Only for my character, she may start off one, but she's not a victim. She doesn't say a word, lets him get his feel. Crowded train with everyone minding their own business, so this could go a lot of ways.

[Bamagirl]

Southern Gothic
I'm looking for something, which I can't quite put my finger on, but I'll know it when I see it.  Sort of like my western idea, I can see the background (New Orleans, Savannah, Charleston, or the like), but I can't quite make out the story.

Starter Idea, Taken

When Clarissa had been accepted to Tulane it had been one of the most exciting moments of her life.  She'd get out of the bayou, away from the almost heart-wrenching poverty of her parish.  Most of the kids her age didn't even graduate, and those that did ended up at LSU or in Lafayette.  She got to go to Tulane!  About as far away from the dirty Red River and the slummy country towns north of Shreveport.  Sure, some might call New Orleans names, but for her it was the Big Easy, the capital of the world, and it had been amazing to get move there.  Scholarships and everything!  It was too good to be true.

As most things that are too good to be true, it really was, and while Clarissa loved living in New Orleans, loved attending a Southern Ivy, loved the challenge of the course work as she started pursuing a degree in Environmental Biology, she did not love how poor she was.  The scholarship covered tuition, room, and board- and that was only from September to May, when school was in session.  Most of her new peers were rich- old rich, plantation rich or oil rich- this wasn't an issue.  She couldn't keep up though, and last summer, between her first and second year, most of them were taking fabulous vacations, or internships, or short study abroad programs.  Claire was back outside of Shreveport, living in her parent's trailer, and swearing that never again.

She'd found some employment of course, enough to cover insurance on her crappy Civic she'd been driving since high school, and to fund a little bit of recreation.  Waiting tables and that sort of thing.  It wasn't steady though, and constantly interfered with her school schedule.  Tulane isn't the kind of university where one can just show up and half-ass some papers at the end of the semester, it was demanding, it was challenging.  She needed time to get into the library, to work in the lab.  Besides, $300 a week part time might get her through during the school year, but as it was coming to a close, she knew that would barely make a dent in the expenses of summer, especially if she wanted to stay in New Orleans.  Shreveport, Oil City, Red River, she couldn't go back there, not again, had worked so hard to make it out.

This was a story that didn't get very far, but I think the idea has a lot of promise.  I think there are a few plot bunnies in there that another writer might jump on, and I'm very interested in giving it another whirl.

Let's bounce ideas rather than an immediate reply.

[Bamagirl]

Something Stepford
I'll need to polish this idea up some, but I'd like to do a "slice of life" roleplay that centers on a very misogynistic domestication theme.  I think my icon is a pretty good inspiration.  He works some professional job, which she doesn't quite "get" but she's very supportive.  After all, being a man and working so hard must be so stressful.  That's why she spends her days keeping their house clean and baking!  Or something along those lines, but with a bit of a darker edge thrown in, because he has to keep her from getting too uppity after all.  Let's bounce some ideas around.

Starter idea from a dead thread

The whirlwind romance while she was still at Brandeis had been bad enough, but that she actually married a man that wasn't Jewish during her senior had caused a pretty big rift in

Rebecca's

New York family.  She hadn't cared though, not one bit, and it wasn't like she was religious anyway.  Her parents cut her off, would barely speak to her, and she mostly had contact through her siblings. 

For Becca it was worth it; Alexander was intelligent and charming and handsome, a hard worker that managed to come from a regular background and make it into Harvard.  She knew what silver spoons were, recognized her own in her mouth, and in some ways Alex's work ethic, his need to excel and succeed, was one of the things that made him most attractive.  She recognized his pride too, and had it herself.  If her parents were going to cut her off then whatever, they would get by, together.  Which is what they did for the next three years.

Rebecca had wanted to pursue her Master's of Studio Arts, had finished with the BA, and had always pictured herself at some big gallery, or curating one of the many, many fine museums of New England.  Instead she never enrolled- Alexander was still going to school- and without daddy's money she had to get a job.  That first year had been the hardest, she had never really worked before, but she was intelligent and pretty and even though her parents refused to speak to her, they still had connections.  Rebecca hadn't actively sought their help of course, but just being the scion of wealthy family opened many doors.  So while it wasn't a big gallery, and she didn't run it, the young woman was able to find work in a fashionable part of Boston that fit her specialty.

It wasn't enough though.  Alexander had scholarships that mostly paid for his tuition, but living in coastal Massachusetts wasn't cheap, especially with her finer tastes.  She knew that a lot of their financial difficulties were just because she didn't like "settling."  With Alex not working she ended up working a second job, moonlighting with interior design, and on weekends she bartended.  Of course bartending was no future, but it was easy cash, even if she was up all night on Fridays and Saturdays.  With the other work, the interior design, she thought there was a real future.  While in college she'd always pictured herself at the MET or even just the Rose Art Museum on campus.  Once she had her hands in it though, the colors and materials and the layouts of design work were fascinating, and she felt like she had an eye for it.  That was on top of everything she did in their own small apartment, on the outskirts of the suburbs.  Cooking (which took a year or two to figure out), cleaning (had to learn how to do that too), all of the stuff Alex was just too busy studying to do.  By the time Alex passed the bar she barely worked the gallery anymore, that was her moonlight job; instead she was rehabbing buildings all over Boston for a great income that she found fulfilling.

Then Alexander took the job in Chicago.  They'd been married more than three years now, and since she was moving so far away her parents finally relented, a little- they paid the down payment on their new home.  Alex wasn't pleased at all with that, they'd fought some about it; she knew it hurt his pride to accept that from them, but she had actually been working and paying the bills the last three years, and besides to reject the gift would pretty much mean rejecting her parents forever.  Perhaps that was why Alex relented and let it happen, though she still hadn't spoken with them since before the move.  Alex and her father had actually talked, shortly before leaving Boston, the first time they'd all been together since before the wedding.  Things were promising.

In many ways she had wanted to stay in Boston.  The wound with her family was healing, she had made a lot of friends and contacts, and in a few years she could probably start her own interior design businesses.  She didn't know anyone in Chicago, didn't even know where to begin starting over, though she'd made a resume almost as soon as he took his job.  Not yet though, he'd urged, let's get settled.  They sold her car and bought him a new one, leased her a Kia after they drove half way across the country.  One week had turned to two had turned to a month they'd been here already, and so far the closest thing Rebecca had to a job was cleaning their house (which seemed way too big after their small apartment), cooking dinner (because Alex was never home), and watching television.  They lived in the suburbs again, but there was no more working in the heart of the city, no more busy lunches with clients and contractors.  Instead she watched television and drank a little too much in the morning and napped it off in the afternoon.  Alex had promised that once everything was settled she could find work, but he insisted that right now was just too hectic, he'd just started at the firm, that now wasn't a good time.  Decorate our house, he urged, and then we should be good.  But she wasn't writing the checks anymore, and he hadn't given her more than a pittance, enough for groceries and some new clothes here and there, certainly not enough to renovate anything. 

Still, he seemed happier than she could remember seeing him in years, since they first got married really.  He was working tortuously long days, even some on the weekends, and that didn't even account for what he brought home and kept reading.  Her husband seemed to love it though, like when he'd first started law school- diving in with this huge enthusiasm.  Rebecca didn't want to spoil it, remembered how depressed he'd been when he realized he wasn't the breadwinner in their little family that second semester in Harvard.  So she wasn't pushing it, and when he came in she'd sobered all the way up hours before, and greeted him from the kitchen.  Three years behind a bar she could make anything his heart desired, and she piped up, "Clear or brown?"

[Bamagirl]

The Cop (F/F only)

Open

So yeah yeah, BLM can go either way, right?  Blue lives, black lives.  So in a way I feel a little bad wanting to write out a dirty cop story, but the premise is pretty hot.  I floated this idea last year and it was purely a two dimensional thing, the policewoman in uniform with the belt and badge, the shiny shoes.  Given the right ideas though I'd be willing to try this as detective or just guard as well.  I am, no matter the take on the character, wanting to right this as very D/s, with my protagonist abusing her power and position to have her way with some lovely victim perp.  Bonus points to taking it full taboo and playing a minority.

[Bamagirl]

The Refugee
I tried this with a great writer who got sidetracked by life and has stopped writing entirely about a year ago.  With the new people in charge in the US, I think this topic is even more potent!  I'm most interested in trying to write this as a Middle Eastern character, but I guess with the wall coming up and stuff, an illegal from south of the border is appropriate too (or very inappropriate, but that's part of the fun of writing this stuff).

These are from old stories that cul-de-sac’d before page 2.

Latin flavor

Her first time she had barely been a teenager, and lived with her parents and siblings in a camp, and later the back of a van. It had been hard, stoop labor, picking fruit in California and Washington. She had never finished school, could barely read and write her own language, but she learned some English, and that as hard as it was, it was better than south of the border. The INS had come though, and took her parents, she lasted longer, went to a legal distant cousin, something to do with courts. By the time the migras came again she was at a poultry plant.

That had been a terrible and frightening place.  She was harassed by her supervisor, bullied and pressured, and then there was the work itself. Maria had stopped eating chicken, still couldn't stomach it. When the migras finally came she was an adult, and was deported with everyone else. At first she thought of it as liberation, had forgotten how bad it was in her village. Bad water, little electricity. By the time she got back the cartels where there too, her father had disappeared, her mother had nearly given up.

So naturally she wanted back in Estados Unitos.  Maria was a hybrid now, didn't fit in the old country, was illegal in her new. But she spoke passable English, and was determined, the land of milk and honey beckoned. Towing her mother she dared the crossing again, walked for two days in southern Arizona to find the coyote and finish the passage.

Land of opportunity!  She was in Norte Carolina now, another distant, but naturalized, cousin. And his wife and kids. And his brother and and his brother's cousin-in-law. With her own mother. All crammed into a three bedroom apartment. She cleaned houses now. The network of the immigrants- one legal to land the work, and a van load of workers with fake IDs not paying taxes. Well there was the work tax: every house was $40 back to the driver, the rest was hers. They got dropped off in the morning, picked up at lunch, another place in the afternoon. If you were lucky it was in a neighborhood, and you could find extra houses, work faster and harder, get two or three out of one drop.

Maria wasn't lucky today. She had drawn a house on a state road on the edge of town. She would do her thing then have to wait, wasn't going to be able to double dip. Three bedroom, two bath, single guy- no more than two hours, or $60, so really just a twenty for a half day's work after she paid her boss. It was no bueno, but she was the most junior on the crew, had been back in the States for only a few weeks and was 20 years old. She would get her turn for the better neighborhoods she was promised, but for now get out of the van.

Usually the homeowners weren't home when they cleaned. Maria and her family and people like her being invisible, but vital to so many little things.  There was a sedan in the driveway though, and she held her cleaning tray in one hand (which also came out of her pay, and she tried to use stuff in the client's house) and walked up the stairs a little nervous. She didn't like being alone around men: Catholicism and the supervisor at the plant and some close calls in the fields....

She set her things down and wiped her sweaty palms on her shirt. Like most of the other maids she had taken to wearing nurse style scrubs, today was pink pants and a powder blue top. Hoping no one was home and she could just use the key that should be under a rock she rang the bell.

Syrian flavor

Growing up in Syria hadn't been a bad thing for Fatima, at least not until the Arab Spring. One of seven children, she was born into a middle class Sunni family in Damascus. Of all the people in her family, she and oldest brother had been most interested in politics, her a passive observer, him one of the first protesters in what became true civil unrest. Her father, Mohammed, had tried to keep them both out of it, and when his son was killed by the Syrian Army, he called it the will of Allah, and mourned of course, but redoubled his efforts to separate his children from politics.

Of course this was not to be. The country slid further into unrest, another brother swore feud against the regime and ran off to join the coalescing rebels. Despite clear prejudices arising against the Sunnis- the checkpoints and blockades, people disappearing in the night- her father still believed in the government, that his family would be safe. Then came the IEDs and the barrel bombs. Their neighborhood was thrown into chaos, two more siblings and Mohammed killed when death came from the air.

Her mother did not handle it well, encouraged her remaining brother to martyrdom, which came soon when he became a suicide bomber at a market in government held Damascus. Her own neighborhood was totally blockaded, by now it was 2014, and the country was chaos. Her oldest brother had joined the Islamic State, came back for the youngest, and encouraged what was left of his immediate family, and their cousins, to flee. Damascus was to be the battleground, and while he believed in Jihad, he still wanted to protect the remaining women of his family.

North to Turkey then, but they were stopped at the border. They all were, a teeming mass of refugees with nothing but the clothes on their back. By now it was her mother and her smallest baby sister, with a teenage brother to be their guardian. They heard of boats, get to Greece, on to Europe. Fatima took charge, of this. She knew French, a little English. Before the apocalypse that Syria became she had been studying at the university. With barely any savings though she was forced to do...things. Terrible things that compromised her innocence but got the four of them a place on an overcrowded fishing vessel. They landed on a Greek island in the autumn of '14, destitute.

Fatima shamed herself and her family more in the camp. It was what she had to do, the only way to get the guard to take them in a van to a train station. Then north and west again. The Balkans, Hungary, Austria, Germany. By now her brother despised her, and hated himself for not being a good guardian. He left in the night, swearing Jihad on Asad and the West, back to Syria to join the Caliphate. Fatima had not heard from him since.

By now her mother was unwell. They found distant cousins in France, cousins that helped all they could, but could not help all the way. Fatima left her mother and little sister, all that remained of a proud and prosperous family, and moved on to Britain. There was no work in France, no future. But perhaps in England she could prosper, bring her family together again. Or at least it kept her out of the brothel.

In London she found some sympathy and succor. Other refugees, other Arabs far from home. She was unclean though, knew it herself, and so did everyone else. A gulf Arab- Omani- offered her a job though. It was menial labor, £10 a day cleaning houses and flats of the decadent Westerners that could not seem to take care of theirselves.  It came with room and board though, if one could call it that. A crowded basement, sleeping on the floor with two dozen other women and children, taken in a van to work each day and returned at night. They were given uniforms, but had their passports and IDs taken. Fatima knew enough to know they were prisoners really, but she was biding her time. By now it was late '15, and she had already stashed away several hundred pounds, was constantly working to make more- preparing meals and washing clothes- whatever it took for a few pennies more from the other destitute ladies.

She was a hard worker, spoke some English, and despite it all, still pretty, even though she barely smiled anymore. So the "manager" of the sweat shop, which was the best word- began sending her to the higher value clients. Which was how she found herself knocking on the door of a flat in North London.  She wore her black hijab, and sturdy black shoes, and the drab dark gray skirt and shapeless top of a maid.

[Bamagirl]

The Inquisitor
There's something very interesting to me about this idea.  Like in Salem, or in England or something, back in the 17th century.  How a girl could just make it all stop, all she has to do is confess.  But she doesn't, because she truly believes in the Lord and that she hasn't done anything wrong.  Maybe she even believes there is a Devil there, and wants help being saved!  And the flipside is the mentality of the person that would be doing the "work."  Is it for his own pleasure?  Or is he really doing God's work?

This can be modified to a more contemporary era, as it’s a pretty basic premise. She innocent and he won’t stop until she admits her guilt.

[Bamagirl]

Victim
Yes so I love stories that feature victimization of my female protagonist. This one goes off the rails a little bit, so I’ll put it behind a spoiler.

Heard on NPR that people with intellectual disabilities are seven times more likely....

You see where I’m going with this?  The story talked about how because of their disability they were targets. It focused on how hard it is to prosecute these cases, and that they barely ever made it to court.  Here’s a link to the story.

Anyway, I was both horrified but also like right into brainstorming. Like I said, I love to write the victim role and this seems like a real challenge. On the other side I love to read the dark thoughts of the predatory guy.  Another angle, for the discerning author who wants to have a good guy in there too (to balance out this really dark subject) would be to write the detective or DA on the case with flashbacks to the perpetrator(s). 

Is anyone up for a story like this, or should I delete this post because it’s just too visceral?

[Bamagirl]

Bad Wife
Lots of ways to play this out, but the basic premise is just plain ol' cheating. Girls night out, she has a few too many and flirts flirts flirts with a younger guy. Totally flattered and excited he's taking interest in her she ends up crossing a line! Her friends think she went home, her hubby thinks she's still out with her friends. And meanwhile she's in a taxi on her way back to his place!  Or maybe it’s even more willful, she’s out there on Tinder or something, looking for what she’s not getting at home.

This can be a one shot or lead to some sort of relationship and affair. It can be fairly vanilla, just some hot extramarital nookie to something way more sordid, with elements of humiliation and disgrace. Maybe it's benign in his bedroom, or maybe they put on a show in the back of the cab. Points for originality!  But yeah, this is more of a smutty romp idea than a character driven thing.

[Bamagirl]

Good People On Both Sides

Open

I only know the unrest from TV, but I have some pretty strong opinions about the people that are out there protesting and counter-protesting.  I also think that level of conflict might make for a really awkward romance.  Antivaxxers    and BLM, 2nd Amendment and hippies, the woke and the cancelled.  Let’s brainstorm!