Some cravings from a RogueLady (F seeking M or F)

[RogueLady]

Hi!

Thanks for stopping by to peruse my RP ideas. These are just the little plot bunnies that got caught in my mind and needed to written out and then, hopefully, RP'ed so that they stop jumping around in my brain.

I'm still a fan of Supernatural, though I stopped watching after season 8. I'd love a Supernatural RP set within the first five seasons, though. Either between the boys themselves (yep, a bit of wincest :D) or one of the boys and an OC (of which I can play either).

I am a fan of the Marvel universe in general. I'd love to RP something based in that world but without all the intricacies of the comics; maybe just something set at the Xavier Institute between a couple of students.

Hrm, what else? I've been playing a lot of Red Dead Redemption 2 lately, so something set in that world could be fun.

I just binged the first season of Black Butler. It's the first anime I've watched in years, so playing in that world is something I'd be into. I've since watched Ouran High School Host Club and Yuri On Ice -- so playing in either of those worlds would be awesome, too!

I've bolded my general interests to make them stand out a little more -- those are worlds that I'd love to play in that I may not have a specific prompt for!

I play both male and female characters (with a clear preference for males) and I definitely prefer to keep them teenagers, but of course within site guidelines. I also really like power differentials in games, as well.

I have no preference as to the real life gender of writing partners! Whoever you are is fine with me, as long as you play what's specified in the prompt!

Anyway, a few of my ideas are below. They go from newest to oldest. If any strike your fancy, send me a pm to work something out!

Kidnapped by the Mob:(MxM)

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For two days the van had been parked down the road in front of the neighbours house and that was unusual, but not unheard of. It wasn't anything fancy, just a black van with no windows on the side. It wasn't emblazoned with any company logos or any other kind of outward sign as to who owned it. It was just a van that could have belonged to anybody.

But, geeze, did it ever make my dad nervous. And that was saying something because my dad was a nervous guy in general. He always tended towards jumpy and even a little paranoid but it was just a quirk of his; I'd grown up not being allowed to go spend the night at friends houses and always having to have some kind of tracking software on my phone. Now that I was sixteen, he hadn't relaxed those rules, either. I *still* wasn't allowed to sleep over at anyone's house, though I was free to invite friends to mine.

Not that I ever had the chance, mind you. We moved around so much that we were barely in the same place from year to year; I think one time we moved three times in twelve months. That might have been a personal record, honestly. And dad never said why, he just expected that mom and I would dutifully follow him around on whatever suspicious delusion was causing us to move *this* time. The house we were living in now had been one of the longest we'd occupied, we were sitting at a good year and a half in this one. I almost maybe had friends at school. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before and I loved it.

But then that black van showed up and dad *freaked* out. He started refusing to leave the house to go to work and he'd stand in the living room all day, twitching the curtains open and closed, watching the van like a hawk. He started driving me to school and picking me up at the end of the day which was stupid because it was really only a ten minute walk from the house. I tried to get him to knock it off, but he literally wouldn't let me out the front door unless I agreed to have him chauffeur me.

And after a week, the van was still there.

Two weeks later, it hadn't moved and dad didn't know whether he shouldn't calm down or continue with his paranoid fantasies. He opted to calm down and slowly things returned to normal. I was allowed to resume walking to school but I had strict instructions to come straight home afterwards. I wasn't allowed to stay late and study or try out for any extracurriculars.

And everything was fine for a few weeks. My dad actually went back to work and we all slowly forgot about that black van that was parked by the neighbours house. But I could tell dad was getting antsy about wanting to move again, this thing with the van spooked him and he began to put plans in place for us to do a midnight move on the next weekend.

That, uh, that didn't happen.

It was a Friday afternoon on the weekend we were supposed to pick up and leave, and I was walking home school minding my own business. I had my headphones in so I didn't hear the footsteps rushing up behind me, but I sure as shit felt that poke of a gun in my back and the vice grip of strong fingers curling around my arm. My earbuds were yanked out and a voice beside me hissed out some instructions:

"Don't yell, don't stop walking and don't draw any attention to yourself. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut."

My stomach immediately twisted into a knot of fear and it was like I could feel the color drain from my face. I made a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a squeak and the man connected to the arm that was holding me yanked me forward a little harder.

"We're gonna take a little ride, kid," he spoke in a low growl and gave me a little shake. "We need something from your old man and we figure he'll talk if we have you."

I didn't dare turn my head to look at him, but I could tell he was tall because his voice was high up above me. My feet stumbled slightly and I almost went down, but the man's hand steadied me roughly and he gave me another shake. "I said don't draw any fucking attention, kid, are you fucking deaf?"

Anything I would have tried to say was stuck in my throat like wets bits of paper and I couldn't even get a word out. That's when I saw the black van up ahead, just like it was sitting there, waiting for us... The world seemed to tip sideways and my legs buckled.

Something bad was happening to me and I had no idea why!

Beyond The Stars: (MxM)

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When I was a little boy, in my room, I used to stare out the window at the expanse of space that seemed to stretch like an indigo ocean above me. I could see the lights from the cruisers, some of them coming in to dock, some of them leaving for ports unknown, and I would wish with all my little heart to be on one of them. I wanted to watch this planet turn into a little blue dot in the distance before we made the jump to faster than light.

It was funny because anyone on one of those ships probably would have cut their left hand to switch places with me. My dad was a high-ranking senator and my mother came from old money and we lived in this huge house overlooking our own private lake. Like, it was a whole estate, you know? And we had servants and chefs and all that stuff. For a while, I thought it was the coolest thing to be rich, because really, who wouldn't think that. I never had to worry about anything. Oh, I mean, sure -- I didn't get to see my dad very often and my mom was usually busy with rich-lady stuff, but that was okay with me. It meant that I had more free time to read and go to the Holo-Vids to watch movies.

There was a series that I loved about the daring pilot Coleo Shedix. He was a smuggler, a pirate but also a rescuer of fair maidens and he always managed to get one over on the men who were chasing him. Just a rogue all around, you know, but a lovable one. He had a small crew of eccentric characters and they had all sorts of adventures and -- it looked amazing. It was everything I wanted to experience. I mean, it was as far away from my real life as it could be. There was no way my dad would ever entertain the thought of me being a pilot, let alone a smuggler -- he would have disowned me! But, still, it was something fun to daydream about.

I knew that he was grooming me to go into politics like him, but seriously, there was nothing I wanted less than that. By the time I was ten, I could speak three languages, my tutors had me doing schoolwork that was years ahead of where I should have been and I was already interning for my father.

And I hated every minute of it. I just wanted -- I just wanted to be able to fly. I had all these elaborate fantasies about running away, disgusting myself and joining a crew on some ship but even I knew I'd never do it. It was too risky and besides, I wouldn't be able to run far before my parents hired private security to find me. Nah, it was fun to dream about but it wasn't ever going to happen.

At least, you know, that’s what I always thought. But things went bad when not long after I turned 16...

Even now, I’m still not quite sure what happened. I had gone with my mom and dad to a gala fundraiser and it was the most boring thing I think I’d ever experienced. It was early morning by the time we returned home, and then -- the rest is a blur.

We pulled in through the gates and we were about to keep driving up to the house when our landspeeder was ambushed, rocked by a small explosion that was enough to topple it and send me flying. I heard my mom scream my dad’s name and I ran. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I ran. I guess whoever was attacking wasn’t that interested in me because they didn’t chase me...

Our estate had, like, practically a forest all around it and it was easy to escape into the trees. I scrambled into one and just sort of hid until the sun came up. Sometimes I was sure I could hear the sounds of people prowling around and once I was certain that my name was called, but I didn't answer. I just kept picturing that explosion over and over again, and the way that my dad's body just sort of hit the ground like he didn't have any bones. Mom's scream rang in my ears until it was the only thing I could hear.

I stayed up in the tree for a full day, too scared to come down. I didn't know who was lurking around the estate and I wasn't in too much of a hurry to run into anyone. But when it finally grew dark again, I slipped down to the ground and ran for the city. It took me a little bit because we lived out of town, and every time I thought I heard someone, I would duck into the bushes along the side of the road, watching wide-eyed until they passed me by.

Finally hitting civilization seemed to take hours, but when I saw the city lights, I almost sobbed in relief. At least now I didn't feel so alone, even if I was still completely by myself. First things first, I needed credits but I didn't have much to pawn except my clothes. I was still wearing the expensive suit that I'd worn to the gala the night before. It was a bit worse for wear, but it would probably net a little bit of money.

Narrator: It didn't.

At least, it didn't give me nearly as much as I thought it would, especially when I factored in that I needed something to wear. I bought a pair of brown homespun pants and an off-white tunic tied around my slim waist with a belt -- it was like I was just wearing a costume, honestly. I'd never worn clothes this cheap before. But they were the least expensive things I could find on such short notice and I at least had enough money left over to hopefully by passage on a ship.

Clutching my little stack of credits, I wandered uncertainly to the commercial port where almost all the pilots hung out. I knew I stuck out from the other boys, even if the clothing was almost exactly what they were wearing. My nervous, mincing steps, the way my big green eyes darted back and forth and the expression of abject uncertainty that played on my face were immediate indicators that I wasn't from around here.

Even though I was more frightened than I'd ever been, I still couldn't take my eyes off everything I was seeing. The neon lights cut through the gloom of the night, reflecting brightly against the wet road and on either side of me, little knots of people and aliens stood talking in any number of languages. I tried to make out what they were saying, but I think it was mostly pilots argot and the words made no sense to me. Still, though, it was like walking right into one of the Coleo Shedix holo-vids and that was probably why I didn't notice the very large man who's back side I bumped into. You wouldn't think one slight, slender 16 year old would have been able to do much damage, but I guess I made him spill his beer because he whipped around *glared* at me. One of his eyes looked like a cybernetic replacement and his face had been slashed at one point judging by the three horizontal scars that ran cheek to cheek and over his turned up nose.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, you little brat!?" he practically roared at me and I suddenly found myself on my back foot, looking up at him with terror in every line of my face. "That beer was expensive and now it's wasted! You think I won't beat the cost of it out of a little gutter rat like you!?"

I was trying to talk! There were words, but they were stuck in my throat and the only noise I managed to make sounded more like the air being let out of a balloon than a normal, human vocal projection.

"I can pay you for it! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you!" In a sudden rush, my voice came back to me and I held out my stack of credits, thinking that the man would only take what he needed to purchase another beer.

Well, imagine my reaction when he took all of them. His big paw wrapped around my small hands, practically swallowing them, and when he withdrew his fingers, I had no money left.

Fuck my life. That was my reaction.

That was all the money I had in the world and now this stupid man had taken it all! I didn't know what to do, so I flung myself at him but I would have had just as much luck trying to fight a hill or a medium sized mound of dirt; he as about as immovable as either of those. If he hadn't been so clearly human, I would have assumed he was some kind of person-shaped, deformed Hutt. He knocked me back easily, using the back of his fist to strike me to the ground, and then he walked away laughing.

I scrambled to my feet, intent on giving chase, but the crowd seemed to thicken around me, making any kind of egress impossible. "Thief!" I yelled out, hearing the tears of anger in my voice. "That man just stole all my money! Thief!"

This only drew laughter from the crowd and a few people jostled me, telling me they knew how I could make a few credits if I were desperate enough... I ignored them and fought my way out to a couple of overturned shipping crates, sitting down on one and pulling my knees to my chest. I knew I was crying, I could feel the tears forming and then dripping down my face. I knew I was too old to be crying, but this, on top of everything else had pushed me to the edge. Everything was falling down around me. This wasn't at all how I pictured my grand escape from the planet.

What was I going to do now that I had no money!

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: (MxM)

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Being the son of a mafia boss had perks; of course it did. You had the finest things in life at your fingertips: clothes, cars, jewelry, women -- though, you didn't care for that last one. Women never interested you, but that was your business and no one else's. You lived in the absolute lap of luxury and you were still a teenager. So when everything came crashing down around you, you didn't know what to do. Suddenly your father was in jail, your mother was heartbroken and everything that you had disappeared as if it had been a dream.

You ended up having to move out of the mansion you'd practically grown up in, into a little four-bedroom in the suburbs and you hated it. You hated the constant noise of traffic, of little kids playing out on the street in front of your house. The smell of barbeque on the weekend. You had never had to deal with any of that before.

Oh, and to make matters worse, your mom couldn't afford to keep you in the private school that you'd been attending since kindergarten. There was a perfectly good public school not that far from where you lived now, and that's where you had to go.

You hated it.

The teachers were sub-par. The classroom sizes absolutely ridiculous. The supplies were all years out of date. How in the world were you going to get a good education here. And that was a goal for you, despite your father's previous occupation. You didn't expect to have been just handed everything because you were his son. You were going to prove that you were exactly the right person for taking over your father's empire.

It didn't matter now, obviously, but you still wanted the best education you could recieve. Who knew, maybe you could rebuild the empire, after all.

The only good thing that you'd found about this school was the shy blonde boy who shared at least three of your classes. He was slender, a year younger than you, a little shorter as well, with a mop of golden waves and bright green eyes. Frankly, he was a lot more interesting to look at than anything going on in class.

You were pretty sure you'd caught him glancing at you off and on, too. You had nothing to worry about in the looks department, either. You were tall and also very slender, pale with brown hair and blue eyes that could either look sweet and kind or callously cold depending on your mood.

So, finally, you took the chance to talk to him...

(Your character is used to getting what you want, when you want it, and the adjustment to public school has been a hard one. None of the teachers seem to be that qualifed, and worse than that, they don't seem to really care about who *you* are. The rest of the students are equally as unimpressed and none of them have seemed that eager to make friends. Except, my character wants to; he seemed to be quite interested in you, actually. And you find yourself reciprocating that interest. My character will be a little more quiet, shy, studious -- not necessarily serious, but not as brash and outgoing as yours.

I know this is a bit of a vague prompt, but I didn't want to get too in depth because I want the story to sort of develop organically. I want it to be a mix of slice of life, romance, drama and angst. I have an idea that the blonde boy's father was maybe the lawyer who helped put your father in prison, but you don't know that yet, and you won't know until after the two of you truly begin to care for each other... I don't know, I'm just kind of brainstorming out loud here. We can always come up with another source of drama between them :) )

Demons of the Past: (MxM)

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My mother always used to tell me that when our family lived in England, we were nobility. Not like, a king or a Duke or anything super impressive, but definitely nobility. We had an Earl in our family, or a Baron or something. And then she would show me the rings.

They were very pretty rings; one was wrought in gold with a crest on it. Mother said it was something called a signet ring and used to stamp wax seals, acting like a signature when a letter was sealed. Plus, you'd know who sent it just by looking at the wax.

The other was beautiful, and probably worth a lot of money. Made of silver that never seemed to tarnish, it housed an emerald-cut sapphire of the deepest blue I'd ever seen. Sometimes she would let me try them on and I would go around calling myself 'M'lord' and bowing to my mother, asking if she'd 'care to daaaahnce'. Oh, and I'd use the worst English accent I could... because our family was English, you see.

Well, it made sense in my head!

I'd tried to trace our family tree, but I was never able to find much information on them. Mum said it's because we changed our name when we came to emigrated and all the old records with the old name had been destroyed. Now we were known as the Fantom's. And we weren't nobility anymore. I went to a public high school, for God's sake.

In fact, in anything, my life was painfully normal. School, homework. More school. More homework. Bullies. Chess club. Bullies. The normal, you know? Having an ancestor that was an Earl certainly wasn't helping me survive tenth grade.

Every day was like the one before (but I wasn't in a poor, provincial town).

Until one day, it wasn't...

I had just got off the bus and was on my way down my driveway when the front door flew open and my mother, looking as though the devil was on her tail, came flying out to meet me. She pressed a velvet box in my hand; the box that the rings were kept in, and told me to run.

"Mum! What's going on!? What's happ--"

"Run!" She practically screamed at me, pushing me back down the driveway just as two other men emerged from the house. I couldn't see their faces, but they had guns.

Guns!? They had guns!

"GO!" She screamed again and I didn't know what to do. I took off running, but I was no track star. I pumped my legs as hard as I could but as two shots split the air behind me. My mother screamed again, and then fell silent.  I stumbled and fell shoulder-first in shock. Hitting the ground hard, I had the breath knocked out of me, but I didn't have time to try and recover. I had to scramble to my feet again *keep* running, I had to keep running because I heard the clatter of feet behind me, of people shouting, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Probably telling me to stop, but I couldn't stop. They *shot* my mother!

What the actual fuck was going on!?

Still running as fast as I could, I jumped a fence, ducked into an empty backyard and pressed myself back under a large flowering bush. I kept raking my hands through my thick, black hair, rocking back and forth and trying my best not to hyperventilate.
Help! Oh, someone ... anyone! I need someone's help, please!"

I could hear the two voices; they sounded like they were still in the street, but getting closer with every second. If they each picked a side, and flanked around the house, I'd be fucked. There'd be no one for me to run.

My breathing was faster now, I was wheezing I was breathing so hard. "Please, please, please, I need help. I don't care who, please, just help me!" I could hear the desperation in my voice voice, thick with tears that I was trying to hold back...

And then... then the air becomes strangely quiet. I can hear the voices of the two men, but they sound far away, like they're talking through water. When I look through the branches of the bush, it's as though the sky has gone dark, shadowy, like dusk. But it's barely four PM.

Cutting through the quiet is the click of heels on the concrete patio stones. I can't see a face, only two legs that seem to stretch up forever*

"You have summoned me here. I heard the desperation," a voice from above me speaks smoothly and coolly. He speaks as though he finds my terror delicious, "and it drew me to you. That can never be changed."

I press a hand against my chest in an effort to calm the galloping of my heart, but my heart just races faster. I'm cold; it's like the temperature has dropped by at least ten degrees. "Who are you!?"

"I'm the one who will help you. But know that what is sacrificed can never be regained." That sibilant voice pauses. There's a note of predatory anticipation in his words. Like a carrion bird waiting to feast on the dead.

What is going on!? Am I in a dream? Or, maybe, a nightmare? I can't tell. But there's a man... or something... standing there, wanting to help me!

"Choose!" The voice hisses impatiently.

The sounds of the two men are growing closer. They sound much nearer than they were even a few seconds ago. "I-I... "

"Choose!"

"...Help me, please! I choose to accept your help!" I don't know who this man is. I don't know why he's here, but he IS here. I need him.

I hear him chuckle as though something amuses him and a white hand appears in the bush, outstretched as though he's waiting for me to take it. I lean forward to extend my hand but those long, slender fingers curl around my neck instead.

And then: pain. Searing hot and searing cold at the same time. I try to scream but I can't make the noise and then, as soon as it happens, it's over. I fall back, gasping, tears welling and then dripping down my face.

"What do you require me to do? What do you... command?" The voice is back to being chilly and formal, almost blasé except for an undercurrent of anticipation.

"Command? I command you to kill those men! The two of them; kill them!"* I manage to choke the words out as my shaking hands touch the spot just above the hollow of my throat, where the pain seemed to absolutely infuse my flesh.

"As you wish..."

Just like that, it was as though light and color and *sound* flooded back into the world. The voices of the two men were close; they were nearly in the back yard now. I had no idea what was going to happen so I pressed myself back against the wall, drawing my knees to my chest and covering my ears. Even so, I couldn't drown out the the wailing shrieks of the two men, followed by two boneless thumps on the ground.

Still thinking this was a nightmare, I slowly pulled myself out of the bush to see who *exactly* my mysterious saviour was....

[So, I wrote a prompt that was inspired by Black Butler. This one is, as well, but it wears its influence on its sleeve more than the other. Think of this as an modern AU thing with an original character who is a descendant of the Phantomhive family.

How?

Don't think too hard about it. It's an Alternate Universe ;)

So my character is now on the run and needs protection. On the run from who, you ask? Haven't decided that yet. Maybe they're... oh, I don't know... cultists? They need a teen of Phantomhive blood to take back to England for nefarious purposes? Regardless, they killed my character's mother (father died a long time ago. Suspicious, you ask? Oh, quite possibly. Those cultists playin' the long con!) and now my character seeks both vengeance and answers.

Oh, and I'm not married to the cultist thing. If you have any ideas, definitely let me know!

But he's quite in over his head and needs help. That's where the demon comes in. You. You're the demon. If you *want* to be Sebastian, awesome! If not, and you have an original demon, also awesome! Look however you like, not picky there.

I'm looking for story with this RP, not just smut. Though smut will definitely be a thing if we want it to! I'd also like your demon to be the slightly more aggressive and dominant of the two, though he still can't disobey a direct order, he finds loopholes and ways to skirt around things that *aren't* commands.

Whew ... what else. I should probably stop writing before I too much, but I think that ship may have sailed...

Anyway, I hope this strikes someone's fancy!

The young Duke and his Demon: (MxM, dub-con?)

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Six months after the Duke of Beckforth died, the Dowager Duchess had a new companion and guard. He was tall, quiet, cold and curt to everyone except the Duchess and her son. He attended her nearly constantly, though sometimes he was seen to be leaving Autumnhall Estate at odd hours. No one knew where he'd come from, who he was or how the Duchess found him. All they knew is that he seemed devoted to her.

Almost supernaturally devoted to her...

The Duchess was almost mad with grief. She'd loved her husband well, and without him, she felt alone and adrift in an cruel, unkind world. She avoided the servants and spent her time hiding in her late husbands library, reading the books he'd loved so much and trying to formulate a plan that would keep her and her 16 year old son safe from anyone who would try to usurp their titles, their fortune and their lives.

After months and months of hiding and worrying, the Duchess had found an old book marked with an unusual seal she'd never seen before. It was bound in red leather darkened with age and the pages seemed to crackle with energy.

The further she read, the further the desperate woman seemed to fall into the words. The book was rituals; rituals of summoning spirits, angels ... demons. A demon to serve, if one was willing to pay the price.

Well, gold was no object to the Duchess. She had many priceless works of art and tapestries. But those wouldn't be enough. The price was a soul. A soul in exchange for a servant.

The Duchess forbade her maids and her cleaners from entering the library after that, and slowly she drew out the symbols from the book, daubing them onto the wall and speaking the words in a halting voice.

At first she thought nothing happened. But the candles in the room suddenly seemed to dim and a hand that was both shadow and substance seemed to reach through the seal. The woman's heart beat like a drum in her chest as she spoke her request for a contract.

"I need protection for my son," she said. "I need one to guard him and keep him safe. To teach him all he'll need to know about the cruelty and pettiness of men and how to use that cruelty, when the need arises. To be his companion. To guide him and discipline him as a father would have. To make sure that his title is safe and passed on to my grandchildren. When there is a healthy son born to my son, then the contract is fulfilled."

The woman paused briefly. "But I cannot offer my soul. For I know that I'm not long for this world, and my son will need his companion far after I've gone. So, I offer his soul as payment. Place the mark on me, and when I die, transfer it to him. He will take on my debt."

This was perhaps a most peculiar request; a contract like this had never been done before. But, a soul would still be exchanged for services and it was ... accepted.

A hand reached out and grasped the Duchess around the throat. The screams of pain were cut off by those cruel fingers and a mark was seared into her white flesh. From then on, for the next few months of her life, the pretty Duchess was never seen without a beautifully wrought choker around her slim neck...

Two months after the contract had been made, the Duchess died. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she wasn't long for the world.

The night of her passing, the young Duke woke to find a pale, calm face hovering over his. In the candlelight, the eyes seemed to shift colors; green, grey, brown, blue, black ... red.

"Your mother is dead," a sibilant voice hissed out in the dimness. A hand closed around the young Duke's throat and a burning pain coursed through him. He tried to scream, like his mother had, but the fingers took away his voice.

"Your mother is dead," the voice said again, "but fear not, for you aren't alone. I am your loyal servant...

((You'd play the demon guardian of a young Duke who is suddenly orphaned and surrounded by other nobles scheming to get their hands on his title, land, money ... everything, really. I'd like your character to have a little more leeway than perhaps other demon servants. You still can't disobey a direct command, but the wording of the initial contract gives you more freedom in how you interact with your young master. I'd like your demon character to be the more direct, forceful and dominant of the two.))

Taking the Pop-Star: (MxM, Non-Con)

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Rayne Aarons. 16.

Hottest little pop star in the US right now; cute, blond, baby-faced. But, my God, is he a fucking cunt. Demanding, spoiled, rude arrogant ... and his manager bears the brunt of it. Every tantrum, every hissy fit, it's his manager that has to clean up the messes that the kid's temper creates.

And after every incident all the manager can think is how Rayne needs to be knocked down a peg or ten. Humbled. Put in his place...

The manager knows a guy who knows guys who could help with this. Just a little something to put the fear of God into the kid. A simple kidnapping with some very handsy kidnappers. Take some video of the whole thing and use it as leverage so that Rayne's attitude changes.

Easy-peasy, right?

Well, hopefully the kidnappers don't have their own ideas because a kid like this bitchy little pop star would be worth a lot of money to the perfect buyer. Doesn't matter to them whether the kid is gay or straight or somewhere in between, they'll have no problem breaking him in and getting him ready for his new life...

((Ons for this RP: chloroform, kidnapping, non-con, threats of violence, actual violence (being hit, slapped, beaten, choked, etc), mental torture, name-calling, threats, stockholm syndrome, etc.

Offs for this RP: scat, snuff, unrealistic body sizes, anything to do with feet.))

Remember Me: (MxM, Non-Con)

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When we were young, our parents got married. All of a sudden, you found yourself with a younger brother two years your junior but infinitely more popular. I always had friends over, I was always going out to play and my birthday parties were constant chaos. But you -- you left all your friends behind when you moved and I was loathe to actually let you join in with mine. You told yourself it was no big deal, why would you want to play with kids younger than yourself anyway? But the churning jealousy was always there, buried deep.

My dad tried to get me to include you; bribes and then threats were issued. They both worked for a while, though even when I included you, I made sure you were still left out. When we played tag, you were always it. If hide-and-go-seek was the game du jour, you were the one stuck finding everyone. But, you kept telling yourself, at least you were included!

Then the teasing started. The low level, constant teasing. You were a bit of a stocky boy; not fat, just a little short and thick. I was taller than you, a slip of a thing, with golden hair and bright hazel eyes. I was the kind of kid that people exclaimed over in the streets. The kind of child that would never be anything but angelically good -- but you knew the truth. I was cruel to you, I said nasty things about you, about your mother, about anything that you liked.

You hated me. You had dreams about hurting me; holding me down and punching me until my eyes were swollen closed and blood dripped from my nose and I pleaded with you for mercy, I swore I'd be nicer to you.

They were good dreams.

When you were eleven and I was nine, the dreams changed a little. You'd still be holding me down, but instead of hitting me in the face, you'd force your lips on mine. Your hands would travel along my slight, protesting body, touching everywhere while I struggled wildly. You'd wake from these dreams confused -- all the hate was somehow mixing with other feelings that you were barely understood.

When you were fourteen and I was twelve, our parents divorced. Your mother had finally had enough of the way you were treated and she took you and moved far away. I forgot about you within months, glad for you to be finally gone. You couldn't ever seem to put me out of your memory, though. In your secret thoughts, you revisited those dreams, mixing violence and lust until you hardly knew what to do.

***

Five years passed so quickly it seemed like you blinked, and they were gone. You changed; you grew taller, you began to work out until there was no trace of the pudgy pre-teen you'd been. It startled you when you looked in a mirror; you didn't look anything like the boy you used to see. No one would be able to recognize you. HE wouldn't be able to recognize you.

On a whim one day, you went back to the small town where you'd spent the most miserable years of your life. You cruised it slowly and finally ended up near the local high school. Not for any particular reason, you told yourself, it was just where you happened to stop. Your eyes, hidden behind dark glasses, searched the herd of students until you saw a tousled blonde head that sent a jolt through you.

I was taller, too. Not as tall as you, but taller than most of the students in my little circle. Just as slight as ever and even prettier than when I'd been an angel-faced little brat. You watched as I argued playfully with a friend, pushing him away from me, then I obviously said something funny as we all burst out laughing.

Every mixed up thought you'd ever had about me came rushing back. I was obviously still popular, obviously still the leader of my group of friends and you had that crushing sensation that, once again, you were somehow being left out. You hadn't been popular in high school; all my teasing and cruel behaviour had done a number on your self-esteem. I cheated you out of a normal, fun-filled adolescence -- it was all my fault.

Your jaw tightened as you watched us all begin to walk away from the school. Your eyes following me as dark thoughts began to form. You were going to make sure I payed for everything I put you through. You smiled as you thought I had no idea what I was in for ...

So this one is definitely a non-con scene. You have years of repressed aggression and lust built up and I've been the focus of it since you were a young teenager. I'm looking for a kidnap story with threats and elements of violence as well as a lot of non-con situations. There's a chance that my character can develop a stockholm syndrome type behaviour but that wouldn't be a 'right away' thing. I'm looking for story here, as well, not just smut. I also have no preference for my partner's real life gender. Anyone is welcome to play!

Blood Brothers: (MxM)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

   Sometimes Christian still dreamed of Quinn. On those dark nights, he could see the face of his partner as the younger man was dragged away by blond leech, Therese. The bitch had taken Quinn and for all Christian knew, Quinn was dead. It wasn't often that a vampire would let a hunter live.

   When Quinn was taken, Christian had wanted to die along with him. The two young men had been closer than brothers; they were one of the best teams of hunters that the Church had ever employed. After it happened, Chris had tried to leave the Church, he tried to put that chapter of his life behind him, but it didn't work. When he had had wanted to try and find Therese and save Quinn, the church locked him. Kept him drugged and out of it for almost a month until the desire to mount a rescue mission faded. Then they reprogrammed him, turned him into a weapon once again.

   Chris was different now; he was colder than he'd ever been before. Any minuscule sense of pity for the vampires, any sense of mercy had disappeared. Christian also worked alone now, even though the Church had tried again and again to force a partner onto him.

   It was just safer to hunt in pairs, they told him.

   He told them to to screw off. He wasn't going to have a partner again -- there was no room in his heart or his life for one.

   And now Chris was on his own, hunting in New Orleans. Vampires tended to flock here; it was like some kind of mecca for them. It made them incredibly easy to find and kill, though. Christian stalked all night, tailing the bloodsuckers until he was able to find them and separate them from their heads. Sometimes they were in bars, sometimes clubs. They would hang out in cemeteries, as well. Christian's wanderings always drew him into different boneyards everynight. More often than not, he would find a couple of stupid little fledglings pretending they were Anne Rice characters. Those fledglings would never leave the graveyard.

   Though the church had retrained him (well, reprogrammed him) he couldn't get the thoughts of revenge from his mind. Every night he hoped that he would find the blond bitch who had taken Quinn from him. But he never seemed to have any luck; it as as though she had disappeared from the face of the earth.

   In fact, as Chris walked through the wrought iron gate of the cemetery, he wasn't even thinking of Therese at that moment. It was only the flash of long blond curls that brought her face to his mind. He crept closer, intent on seeing if his quarry really was the elusive whore. A feral smile on his lips as he confirmed that it truly was her.

   But she wasn't alone; a dark haired woman sat beside her. Sitting with his back to a crypt was a young man with shoulder length blond hair and a familiar face. Christian felt his heart give a sickening thud and he pressed a hand to his chest. There was no way it could be -- but it was ...

   It was Quinn ...

((This will be a M/M role. I'm looking for someone to play the cold and hardened vampire hunter, Christian. It will involve bondage, some light non-con and violence. There will be a lot of power switching going on. Sometimes Quinn will have the upper hand, sometimes Christian will. The two characters were close once, but they haven't seen each other for three years and so much has changed between them. However, under their respective animosity towards one another, there is both longing and deeply buried affection. Perhaps more deeply buried on Christian's part than Quinn's. While there will be sex in this RP, I really want to build up a good story, too. Lots of personality in each of the characters that is revealed as they are somehow thrust together under stressful circumstances.))

Reaper (MxF. Non-con)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

She's been going by the name of Reaper.

No one knows who she is, only that anyone who runs afoul of her meets with an unfortunate accident only twenty four hours after their encounter. They don't quite know how she does it, but people speculate it's through touch. Whoever she touches succumbs to her strange powers and ends up dead a day later.

She's also a teenage girl and she goes to high school, just like any number of other teenage girls. But the people who know Melody Solomon don't put her together with the girl who flicks like a wraith around the city at night.

Well, most people don't ...

You, however, have noticed something and this something that's caught your attention is enough to plant a germ of a seed of an idea. When you see Melody at school, she's always wearing long sleeves or, perhaps, long gloves. Nothing really strange there, it could be just a fashion statement. But the more you observe her, the more you wonder. She never associates with anyone and she's always coming to classes late -- so that she doesn't have to walk down the crowded hallways with people jostling her.

You're smart. You're brilliant in fact. But you don't always use your genius to aid mankind. And if you could get rid of this young vigilante hero, your work would be easier. And so, you keep tabs on this 'Reaper' just the same way you keep tabs on Melody at school. And you develop a serum which could temporarily strip of her powers so you could, in fact, touch her.

You just need to dose it out to her...

((I know this RP might be a bit of a hard sell, but I'm a Marvel geek at heart and I love superhero/villain RP's. Melody is a character of mine that I'd had for a while. Her powers are a little complicated, but every time she touches someone skin-to-skin she forms a psychic connection with them. When the connection starts, she sees a vision of how they're going to do. Once that vision has been seen, the person fate is set. The connection manifests in the form of a spirit-like doppelganger that comes from Melody's own subconscious. This spirit follows the marked person and manipulates events so that they are killed in the way the vision predicted. As expected, her powers are quite hard on her and prevent her from touching anyone. Ever. I've dubbed her powers 'Necrokinetic' She manipulates death; moves it to suit her.


But you, you genius, have developed a potion to strip her of these powers and you plan on using it.

You could be a teacher, a student --- maybe even a janitor or someone that works in the school. But that's only your day job. To really get going at your super-villainy, you need to get rid of Reaper or at least ... incapacitate her.))

Elvish Deception: (fxM non-con)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

  For hundreds of years, men and elves had hated each other. They warred and battled -- each trying to prove the superiority of their own race and kingdoms. The elves were driven further and further back, their own lands eaten and absorbed in the kingdom of men. Finally, an uneasy peace came between the two worlds as the elves tried to make the best of the drastically reduced lands and the men expanded, farmed the new country and grew rich and even more powerful.

An agreement was forged between the two stating the elves would never more try to enter the lands of men. The two kingdoms would essentially ignore each other, trying to forget the other existed. That worked fine for the elves, they were free to practice their crafts and though they couldn't enter the lands of men, men were free to cross their borders. They would trade and do business and the elvish kingdom retained some degree of wealth.

Everything was good for a hundred years, when a new enemy attacked the northern border of the elves lands. An army of great, slobbering men twisted by some dark magic. They sought to subdue the elves and take them as prisoners and though the elves defended their borders well, they knew that they would need aid soon. And the kingdom of men were the closest.

The king of elves knew that the guards at the borders would turn away an elven party and so he made a decision. He asked his daughter, the young princess, to use magic and disguise herself as a human in order to gain access to the king of men. She would beg for aid for the elves and, hopefully, the king would send the aid.

But how would the king of men feel about being deceived?

[RogueLady]

**Added Blood Brothers**

[RogueLady]

Added The Licking Man

[RogueLady]

**Added "Dragonborn" and "The Prince"**

[RogueLady]

**Added 'Reaper'**

[RogueLady]

**Added 'Vacation ... or bad dream?'**

[RogueLady]

*** Added 'Elvish Deception' ***

[RogueLady]

*** Added 'That Face...' ***

[RogueLady]

**Added 'Remember Me'**

[RogueLady]

**Added 'Taking the Pop-Star'**

[RogueLady]

**Added 'The young Duke and his Demon'**

[RogueLady]

**Added ''Tis but thy name...**

[RogueLady]

**Updated a few of my interests and added 'Beyond the Stars'**

[RogueLady]

**Added Kidnapped by the Mob**