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Author Topic: Roleplays, M/M - Original & Canon, Marvel, Marketplace, Riftwar Saga  (Read 788 times)

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Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Welcome!

I'm looking to pick up several more roleplays.  The pairings, plots, and characters featured below are only a few of the things I'm interested in.  I only write M/M pairings, though I don't care about the gender or sex of the writer.

Everything below is something I am actively craving, particularly the Sentinel or A/B/O plot, the Phil Coulson/Clint Barton plot listed and the Peter Parker/Clint Barton plot listed.





Original Plots

Detective Story

I really wanted to read a murder mystery book about a detective where the main character (not the victim or murderer) is a trans guy.  Turns out no such thing exists.  So, I'd like to write a detective story where that's a part of my character's history but not a significant focus of the story.  I would like a slightly noir style of gumshoe detective story, maybe something where our characters are either the black sheep of the police department and slightly ostracized or where they've gone into practice as private detectives together.  For my character, I'd like to depart slightly from the stereotype of the disheveled, alcoholic, workaholic, at least slightly and go for someone who is on the surface polite and well-mannered, clean and possessed of professional restraint at work, but just underneath is bitter, angry, and has a chip on his shoulder, someone who knows that things aren't black and white and is trying to make them shake out just barely net positive if he can.  Maybe someone who needs to do some illegal bare-knuckle fighting after hours to blow off steam and occasionally shows up on his partner's doorstep for a shot of gin and kitchen table sutures.

Sentinel/Guide or A/B/O 'Verse

I'd like a game set either in a Sentinels and Guides Are Known AU or an A/B/O Verse where there's heavy government control of these individuals, institutionalized discrimination, and a significant resistance movement.  I want a Sentinel/Alpha who has some perspective on their position and privilege and is trying to find a way to make a difference from the inside but doesn't know how to help paired up with a scrappy seething resistance fighter Guide/Omega whose thinking is entirely black and white, probably recently captured and brought into the system but uncowed and livid.  I'm feeling particularly nostalgic for Broken Bonds and would like something along that vein.  I'm more interested in playing the resistance fighter, but might be persuaded otherwise.  (Also, I know Omega stuff sometimes goes in a reproductive direction but that's not going to work for me, absolutely no MPREG will be involved). 




Fandoms

Marvel's Avengers & Agents of SHIELD

Phil Coulson/Clint Barton

I would love to do a game that's really heavily BDSM driven with Clint and Phil, in a verse where D/s dynamics are pervasive and thought to be natural and immutable, with all the societal stereotyping and bullshit that tends to play into such assumptions.  I'd like to do a game where Clint's a sub, but is unwilling to seek out a partner because of a heaping load of trust issues, and social stigma attached, so he just kind of locks it down.  Phil's been his handler for a while and treats him well, respectfully, and Clint starts acting out, pulling pranks, getting himself into trouble.  Phil sees his behavior for what it is and takes him in hand.  This will follow a safe sane consensual model, with safewords, negotiation, aftercare, etc.  This was going to start out as a fanfiction I planned to write myself, but after writing the first chapter I decided I'd much rather play it as an RPG.  So consider what's below as the starting place we'd be working from.  I'm interested in playing Clint. 
 
Plot
“Agent Barton, when is the last time someone took you in hand?” Phil asked, impassively, his face tense with irritation and not even the slightest hint of amusement.

Clint felt his stomach drop out and the smile slink off his face like dog that had just been caught muzzle-deep in the bin.  “Excuse me, Sir?”

“You heard me agent.  I am perfectly aware that your antics terrorizing the new training class were intended to get my attention.  You know how to avoid detection when you choose to do so.  You wanted my attention.  Well, now you have it. And I want to know whether the discipline you are so clearly craving is something that you expect to be given as part of our handler agent relationship, or whether this is something else, something that’s going to require paperwork.” Phil suggested coolly.

The archer could feel that his mouth had fallen open but it still took him long moments to clack his jaw shut. His stomach had turned into a writhing pit of snakes and it was lucky they were far from the air filtration ducts, because if he could have simply climbed into the ceiling and disappeared he would have liked to.  No one saw him like this, so transparently.  He hadn’t even consciously realized that was what he had been doing, but now he knew it was true.  He also knew that he’d taken too long to answer when he heard Coulson’s heavy sigh.

“You are aware I’ve read your full psych work up.  I know which parts are crap and which parts they got right.”

Clint felt his eyes go narrow, lined and taut around the edges.  “You gunna kick me out of SHIELD for what I do on my off time, Sir?” Barton asked, petulant and unaccountably nervous. He knew that Coulson wouldn’t.  But he also felt unmoored, anxious, desperate for the very thing that Coulson was accusing him of craving.

It might have been a bit untruthful to call this proclivity something he was doing in his off time, unless dreams and fantasy counted for activity.  It was more like what he wasn’t doing in his off time.  Clint had needs.  For a long time, he’d hired a professional to take care of them, something where the contract was laid out clean and business-like where he knew what he was getting even if it never seemed to last long enough for him.  But the same events that had brought him into SHIELD had also made it difficult to trust anybody enough for that.  Besides, even if he could find someone safe who would give him what he needed, well he wasn’t itching to explain to Fury why he was hiring a sex worker to slap him around.

“You know better than that, Clint,” Coulson said, and when he spoke Clint’s name hard and sharp, and it went through him with the force of an electric jolt. “You misunderstand me.  I am prepared to offer you what you’re looking for; I have been since Montenegro.  What I don’t know is whether that’s discipline as your handler, or something more.  Would you care to clarify the issue for me?”

Again, Clint was left speechless and confused.  Clint wanted Coulson for years, pined after him, dreamed about him, and fantasized about him in several less savory scenarios.  He got Coulson’s solid comforting presence as his handler, got his respect, his protection, his trust.  Asking for more than that seemed unreasonable, dangerous, maybe even ungrateful.  Except now Coulson was offering it to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like to Clint.  However, Coulson wasn’t offering it to him for free, he was demanding that Clint ask for it, force out the treacherous words.  Words that could easily destroy everything, his work and the little family he, Phil, and Natasha comprised in one deadly blow.

The archer stood there, wrecked with indecision.  Phil watched his face darken, watched something wretched happen behind his eyes, and the pain blossom deep and rich across his brow.  “I’ll take whatever you can give me,” he confessed, voice low and soft. 

Coulson’s irritation and anger seemed to soothe at that.  He rounded the desk and came to stand in front of Clint, who was as tense as if he was at attention.  Coulson ran fingers through his hair and the gentleness of it caused a lump to form in Clint’s throat. His eyes slipped shut and some of the tension left him.  “Come sit with me,” Phil instructed, his voice soft as velvet and hard as steel.  He settled himself on the sofa and chose not to comment when Clint had a moment of indecision between the couch at his side and the floor by his feet.  Clint sat on the couch, a fact for which Phil was somewhat grateful.

“How about you tell me everything you need and we’ll see what we can do,” Phil suggested.

Clint searched for the right words.  “I don’t know how to describe it.  I need someone else to take control, to go to that nowhere place where I can just, let go and get outside of my head.  When it’s good it’s like being taken apart and having someone put salve on a wound I didn’t even realize was bleeding on the inside.  The only thing is. . .my head got all fucked up after. . .there are a lot of things that don’t work for me.” Clint confided.

Phil put a hand on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.  “Is it platonic for you, or do you prefer something more involved?” Phil asked.

“It can be, platonic, but eventually it all gets jumbled up together for me.  It gets hard to separate it out. . .”

“So, you would prefer something sexual.” Coulson stated, confirming his suspicion.  Clint set his jaw and nodded, eyes fixed firmly on his knees.  “And you find me to be a suitable partner?” Coulson asked, trying too hard to truly accomplish a casual tone. 

Clint’s head snapped up at that, and he looked at Coulson’s face searchingly.  “Yes” he replied.  Coulson looked pleased and nodded.  “Paperwork it is then,” he said, with just a hint of glee.  He opened the top drawer of his desk, a thin one that required a thumbprint scan for identification before unlocking and produced a small stack of cleanly printed forms.  The couch felt cold and empty once Phil had vacated it, and Clint felt a dread and confusion he couldn’t quite contain.  Coulson presented him with the paperwork and a good sturdy pen.  “You’ll need to fill these out and make two copies.  It’ll be eyes only of course, one copy to the director, and one for each of our sealed personal files.” Coulson informed him.  Clint read the first line of the first form on the pile.  “9683D SHIELD Fraternization Notification Form.”  His heart nearly stopped. 

“Sir, are you saying, you mean, you’re attracted to me?” Clint asked, a disbelieving flabbergasted tone in his voice.

“Yes”

“Since Montenegro?!” Clint breathed.

“Since well before Montenegro.  It’s just, it was there that I realized I was willing to do the rest.” Coulson confessed.  “What happens next, Clint is entirely up to you.  If you think better on it, decide this isn’t for you, we can pretend this conversation never happened, save the admonishment over your actions today.  However, if you want to give it a go you put the forms on my desk Monday morning.  They’ll take 48-72 hours to get approval, during which time you will impress me with your professionalism and good behavior.” Coulson stated with a pointed look.  “Friday we will have a proper date, and then a long discussion about your limits and about mine.  If all goes according to schedule a week from tomorrow we can give it a try.  Does that sound acceptable to you?” Coulson asked.

Clint nodded, staring at the papers in his hands as though he was afraid that they might disappear from his grasp.  Phil soothed a hand through Clint’s locks once again before standing returning to his desk and permitting a confused and shell-shocked Clint to vacate his office.

Monday morning, bright and early, Phil was greeted with the 9683D form filled out in perfect triplicate and a carefully penned letter of apology to Anderson, the man training the new recruits who had been most heavily impacted by Barton’s antics.  Phil couldn't help but smile as he signed the forms.  The letter of apology was stowed in a desk drawer to be treasured. Anderson was a bastard and didn’t deserve it.  Phil would covet the physical evidence of Clint’s commitment to do him proud.

Phil signed and filed the paperwork that morning and had Fury in his office before lunch.  The man’s face was impassive.  “Care to elaborate on this Phil?” the man asked holding up the neatly filed forms.  “I believe it’s fairly self-evident, Marcus.  If you’re planning to deny the request I’m prepared to make an impassioned appeal.” Phil noted carefully. 

Fury narrowed an eyebrow at him.  “You realize the appeal would come right back down to me, don’t you?” Fury noted blandly. 

“I’m trusting in your good nature, Director.  And the fact that I very rarely ask you for anything.”

“You’re one of the best teams I have Phil.  Tell me you aren’t going to fuck it all up.  Tell me this will be worth it.  Tell me you love him,” Fury asked, sounding tired. 

“I do, Marcus.  I think we can make this work for us.  If not, I’m prepared to either end it or to see him assigned to another handler.  But I need that to be our decision to make, if the time comes.”

Fury sighed.  “You’re going to put me into an early grave Phil.  Congratulations.”   

“Thank you, Sir,” he replied. The forms were stamped, signed, and filed. Phil hid in his office because he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.  He could still feel the bone crushing weight of the bear hug that Marcus had given him hours after his friend had left.   



Science Bros:

I'd really like to try out a plot during the worst of Tony's PTSD following flying into the chasm.  Bruce is someone who can uniquely understand his circumstances and help to train him to manage his emotions.  At the same time I'd like Bruce to be handling his own difficulty, perhaps he's lost control and done something unthinkable or just sunken into another bought of depression, perhaps false hope provided by his research that didn't pan out.  It would be interesting if they took on some sort of scientific challenge together to help them both lose themselves in something.  Also if anyone is going to put the freaking hulk to sleep, it's not Black Widow, it's Tony.    I'm only interested in playing Bruce on this one.

Intro Post
It had been nearly twelve weeks since Bruce had turned down the kindest offer anyone had ever made him in favor of a ride to the train station and an awkward goodbye.  He should have taken Tony up on his invitation to stay when it had originally been made.  Now everything was different and nothing had changed.  Sneaking back into the country without raising the hackles of some SHIELD lackeys or border patrol agents had been almost embarrassingly easy.  Avoiding the multitude of security cameras in New York while trying to keep his heart from beating a rapid staccato was considerably more difficult.  His plan began and ended with making it to Tony, not so much for his own protection, but in the hope of restoring some manner of equilibrium to his world and in turn protecting everyone else.  Though that, he supposed, was too little, too late.

Bruce looked as he so often did, tired and terribly ragged.  Maintaining his clothing was almost always the first thing to go when times became rough.  Besides, he’d borrowed the pants and boots he was currently wearing from a South American ranch hand.  His feet were blistered and the rough canvas of the too big jacket he was wearing rubbed uncomfortably at the nape of his neck.  It wasn’t the clothes, however, that truly showed the wear on him, it was the dark smudges under his eyes, the sag in his shoulders, the terribly exhausted look in his hazel eyes.  If this went wrong, Bruce had nowhere left to turn.  Perhaps he’d hand himself over to SHIELD, to Fury, let them experiment on the thing he became, erase him, so long as they could keep the beast contained.  Better to lose himself in favor of the promise that it was always, always kept locked away and caged.  He felt the monster stir in him at even the hint of the treacherous thought.  They weren’t there, not yet at least.

He kept his head down and the brim of his baseball cap low over his tanned face as he approached the receptionist at Stark – no Avengers – Tower.  He suspected that Jarvis would be well aware of his presence and alerting Stark by now, though some formalities must be observed.  He waited at the desk while the receptionist finished up a phone call, then while she played with her nails for a moment, before acknowledging him.  “Can I help you with something?” she asked, once Bruce had captured her attention. 

“I’m here to see, Tony Stark, please,” he stated in a soft even tone.  The woman considered him with a wrinkled brow.

“Do you have an appointment with, Mr. Stark?” she inquired.

“More like an open invitation,” Bruce corrected apologetically, tipping up the brim of the cap just so, allowing the young woman to see his face.  The woman gasped, her mouth dropping into a silent “O” of surprise.  She pressed back into her chair, putting a few more inches of distance between them and Bruce bit back a wince, knowing that her fear was justified, and knowing that his mere presence was causing it.  At just that moment, Ms. Potts strode out of the elevator favoring him with a warm smile and a brief polite hug.  He felt a burning in the back of his eyes and a tightening in his throat.  It was the first time anyone had touched him in three months.  It took everything he had not to collapse onto the petite woman’s shoulder. Instead the moment passed and she released him, favoring him with an appraising but non-judgmental look. 

“It’s good to have you back, Bruce,” she offered, almost perfunctorily.  “I expect you’ve come to see Tony?” she asked, again more out of politeness than actual curiosity.  She almost certainly knew every word that had passed between him and the receptionist, who was still gaping at him openly. 

“Yes, please, Ms. Potts,” Bruce agreed softly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the oversized coat.

She smiled at him indulgently.  No matter how many times she told Bruce he could call her Pepper he seemed to have difficulty with the concept. She led the way into the elevator and up to the penthouse suite.  Bruce felt dirty in the sharp modern surroundings, which were obviously cleaned regularly by a professional staff.  He stuck out cleanly as a thing that did not belong here among the delicate glass windows and clean finery.  Ms. Potts did not follow him out of the elevator, instead begging back off for work and promising to catch up with them later.  Bruce wondered if things were still strained between the billionaire and the CEO who ran his company and (at least as far as Bruce had assumed) the better part of his life as well.


Peter Parker/Clint Barton

With no warning Peter Parker, the sort-of-sometimes honorary Avenger, goes silent.  There are no texts to Happy, no video diaries, no school field trips, or dinners with Aunt May.  His bedroom stands empty, unchanged, like a shrine.  It’s been three years but Tony, wrecked with guilt, refuses to give up the search for him.  It’s his fault that the kid got dragged into this world. 

During a raid of a Hydra base they recover Peter and Tony is making it his personal mission to attempt to rehabilitate the kid and get him back in with the team.  It quickly becomes clear that he cannot live his old life in his old home with his aunt.  Tony gives him a place at Avenger’s Tower.  However, Peter’s not the boy he was when he was taken at fifteen, and all of Tony’s heavy-handed attempts to improve his situation seem to make things so much worse. 

He barely submits to the Doctor, and still doesn’t quite know how to talk to Captain America or the Black Widow.  What would either of those paragons understand about how his hands shake or how the room sometimes shrinks and swells and the air gets sucked out?  They’re a lot braver than he has ever been, and he doubts their minds roar like a jet engine when things get too stressful.  Though Captain America – Steve, it’s still weird calling him that – says that Bucky’s head does that sometimes.  It’s the wrong thing to say, makes him worried he’s fucked up beyond repair. 

Quietly the archer, Hawkeye, Clint Barton, begins hanging around him.  He doesn’t say much but he seems to just show up unannounced and silent when the thought of being alone or having to talk to anyone makes Peter want to tear his skin off.  It’s almost as if he’s been where Peter is and understands.  He’s a spy and a secret keeper and Peter knows almost nothing about his past – nothing about Trickshot or the foster homes or the years of abuse – but when Peter can’t sleep he softly teaches him circus tricks and sign language and watches bad movies with him.  Clint doesn’t treat him like a kid or a head case.  He’s not offended when Peter recoils at even a casual touch, he doesn’t get that wounded look in his eyes like Tony or Aunt May. 

He’s not what Peter ever thought he would have wanted, but he’s what Peter needs right now.

Intro Post
Water flowed out of the sink here.  Peter watched it sometimes for long minutes as it ran in a steady stream from faucet to drain.  He was no good at doing things quickly, not anymore.  The toothpaste was minty in his mouth, he savored the feeling of being clean.  He'd needed six cavities filled and a root canal after he was recovered.  Oral hygiene hadn't exactly been a priority for his captors.  All the dental work had been handled expertly, and wasn't visible upon looking at him, like so many of the wounds Hydra had left him with.  He'd broken the mirror in the bathroom within the first week of being here, and it hadn't been replaced.  In its place was a painting hung above the sink of a blue lake with swimming koi fish.

He'd felt ashamed of himself afterward he'd broken the mirror, for destroying something of Tony's when Tony had done nothing but be nice to him, like the big brother he'd never had.  When he'd been trying to make a go of it at his Aunt's place, when things had been worse than they were now, Tony had come by and sat on the twin bed with him and told him stories about the problems he'd had after the battle of New York, about the months after he'd saved himself from Afghanistan.  Tony wanted him to know that he understood a little.  There were moments when Peter thought maybe he did.  Still, it was easier with the offending mirror gone.  Seeing this stranger looking back at him made his stomach turn.

Next was the razor, as much a novelty as a curse.  He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths trying to will his hands steady.  Before the cage and the tests and the chair and the dark he hadn't really needed to shave all that often - maybe once or twice a week.  Now he had to shave every morning to keep the rough stubble away.  He could do it by feel, but the shaking hands were a problem.  Upon seeing the inevitable nicks, Tony told him that a barber could come by and give him a close, smooth shave in the mornings.  It had seemed like a good idea, but then - well, he preferred not to think about that disaster.  He breathed out a sigh.  The bathroom was large and open.  The door was shut.  There was a window.  He could climb out and up the building if he chose.  He'd tried it more than once to the distress of the security staff here at the Tower.  Even Vision treated his quarters as sacrosanct.  No one would open the door.  No one would open the door.

"Hi Karen.  Is there anyone else here?" Peter asked.  Karen didn't seem bothered no matter how many times he asked the same questions.  For that reason he often found her company preferable to that of other people.

"No Peter, there is no one else in your quarters.  Would you like me to relay the locations of the other members of the team in the Tower?" she asked. 

"No thanks, Karen.  Can we play trivia instead?" he asked.  It was a coping mechanism he'd developed.  It had helped him to distract himself when they hurt him and to keep his mind active during long periods of isolation.  Thinking about family and friends was just another hurt, searching his memory for facts centered and distracted him.   

"Sure Peter," she replied, "What 1860 Northern Democratic presidential candidate and supporter of popular sovereignty won an 1858 Illinois senate race after debating Abe Lincoln?" she asked him.

He pressed the razor to his cheek and searched his memory for the answer to the question.  Lincoln-Douglas debates, what was the man's first name?  He finished one cheek and supplied the answer, "Stephen Douglas" he replied.

"Very good Peter, are you ready for a math question?" she asked. 

"Go for it"

"Continue this pattern: 144, 121, 100, 81, 64"

Peter started on his other cheek as he did the arithmetic in his head.  "Forty-Nine."

Peter hissed as he nicked his neck.  Karen didn't miss a beat in her questioning.  "This is a hard one.  Two of the Olympians were children of the Titaness Leto, who gave birth to them on the floating island of Delos."

 "Artemis and Apollo."

He rinsed his now smooth cheeks and pressed a bit of toilet tissue to the nick on his neck.  Only one nick, it was a good morning.  He turned off the sink before exiting the bathroom and heading for a dresser with some clothes.  Tony and May made sure he had clothes.  It was a little embarrassing that he still had to be provided for.  He'd learned upon his release that he had reached majority in captivity.  However, the lack of high school diploma, and lingering stress responses, made it hard to bring in money of his own.  He fished out a pair of demin jeans, a t-shirt with the symbols for Beryllium, Nickel, and Cerium that read "Be Ni Ce," and a grey hooded sweatshirt that zipped up the front.  He'd been lanky when he was fifteen, but captivity had left his growth stunted and his form whipcord thin the signs of malnourishment still lingering about him like an illness.  He might have gained back some of the weight if he could muster an interest in food, but he hadn't.  Tony insisted that he take at least one meal each day with a member of the team.

He settled himself on the couch and pulled out his GED books.   He was gaining ground, and soon he'd be ready to take the exam and get his diploma.  Getting his GED was one of the few things that Peter felt truly and genuinely excited about, but his ambition largely ended there.  Once, there would have been University, but it seemed difficult to imagine now.  He was welcome in the R&D lab, and even in Tony's private workspace, but he hadn't spent much time in either.  R&D was busy and crowded.  And the one time he'd visited Tony's private lab, there was loud music playing, which Peter had discovered was a particular problem for him.  He had no idea what he was going to do after he passed the exam, but it was also difficult trying to think too far into the future.  Best to just keep his attention on. . .what was he studying again?  Right, social studies.  "How's it going, Peter?" Karen asked, when he'd spent a solid twenty minutes staring at the same page.  "It's going good, really good.  Thanks, Karen."

"Would you like me to page, Ned, to come study with you?" she asked.

"No thanks," Peter answered, just a little too quickly.  It was hard, seeing his best friend.  They didn't fall into sync with one another like they had before.  Once they could talk about anything, and now it seemed as though there was no safe ground for them.  Ned was also the reason they had rescued him, and Ned had seen what he looked like when they took him out of that place.  It was hard to look at him sometimes and when Peter did his friend looked wounded.  The doctor said that the shame would start to fade with time.  Peter wanted her to be right, but privately doubted it.  He was better at being by himself; he'd had a lot of practice.

He finished up his studies for the day.  It was late for lunch but he had to find one of the others or he'd be stuck going to one of the group dinners and he didn't think he could handle sitting around a table with Steve, Tony, Thor, and Natasha for a whole hour.  He grabbed his cell phone like it was Captain America's shield.  He nearly always kept the phone on airplane mode because he didn't like the idea that it might ring, but he liked the video function, and kept a careful video diary.

"Karen, can you tell me, where are the others right now?" Peter asked. 

"I would be happy to, Peter.  Tony is in his workshop, Bruce is in the lab, Natasha is out on a mission, Thor is in the gym, Clint is. . ."

"Actually, I think maybe I'll just wander, see if I bump into Happy maybe or Sam or something," he suggested. 

"Very well," Karen agreed.  Peter checked his wrists where the web shooters permanently resided.  They were full.  He went to the fridge and pulled out a prepackaged sandwich and smushed it down flat before packing it in his backpack.  He pulled a Gatorade out of the cabinet and added that as well.  He threw a book in there and his pills, and an old beaten up Gameboy with Tetris in the cartridge slot.  The phone was still held firmly in his right hand, as he paused at the door to psych himself up to go out.  Tony had good security.  Going out the door didn't mean going to a medical lab, or experiments, or even having to talk to anyone he didn't want to.  Ned was somewhere in the building, and so were the others who were ostensibly his friends.   He forced himself to turn the door handle and exit the suite, sweeping the hallways with a cautious eye, as he headed toward the main floors


More generally, I would be interested in the following pairings:
  • Tony Stark/Bruce Banner
  • Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
  • Steve Rodgers/Bucky Barnes




The Marketplace Series


Tetsuol/Chris Parker
Grendel/Chris Parker
Chris Parker/Michael LaGuardia
Chris Parker/Any Canon Character  OR  Any Canon Character/Chris Parker
Chris Parker/OC  OR  OC/Chris Parker





Rift War Saga

Pug/Thomas
Pug/Laurie
Locklear/Jimmy
Amos Trask/Tsurani Soldier





White Collar

Peter/Neal or Neal/Peter

I'd like to explore the ethics of conducting any personal relationship with a prisoner in one's custody.  I'm a fan of a vulnerable Neal, and have noticed that Neal's time in prison is laughed off regularly in the series.  I've always wondered if that's half because Neal wants it that way.  Maybe there's something lurking there he doesn't want to deal with.  It would be interesting in dealing with Neal's and Peter's viewpoints on the allocation of responsibility.  I'd be happy to talk more about my thoughts on this one, as I have several clear ideas.

I'd also kill for a White Collar/The Normal Heart mashup of some kind.





Format

Epistolary Roleplay
I will almost always engage in a roleplay that is structured in an epistolary format, whether it is letters, emails, or some other form.  It is easily my favorite medium and can make for an excellent memorable roleplay.  I've been thinking that something involving gamers might be particularly appropriate to try.  If we do something related to gaming I'd like to explore escapism, preferably with a positive spin since it usually gets such a hard knock.





Currently, I am only interested in fandom works where we both play canon characters or the plots explicitly listed here.  It would have to be something pretty fantastic for me to be interested in anything else.  So feel free to propose other ideas or alternatives, but please understand that there's a good chance that I will politely decline.

Gender and Sexuality

Male     Transgender FTM     Gender-varient
Top     Switch     Bottom
Gay     Bisexual     Straight

Genres

High Fantasy     Low Fantasy     Urban Fantasy
Scifi     Post-Apocalyptic     Steampunk
Slice of Life     Crime     Comedy
Military     Action     Adventure
Mystery     Western     Historical



I roleplay via Forum threads.
For more information check out my O&Os.
If you see something you like feel free to send me a private message
« Last Edit: Yesterday at 03:26:57 PM by ultimategeek »

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: New Roleplays, M/M
« Reply #1 on: November 05, 2017, 02:03:10 PM »
[Bump.  Just about everything has been updated.]

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: New Roleplays, M/M - Original, Marvel, White Collar
« Reply #2 on: December 06, 2017, 07:51:17 PM »
- One Month Bump -

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: New Roleplays, M/M - Original, Marvel, White Collar
« Reply #3 on: December 10, 2017, 05:01:27 PM »
Updated to include the Peter Parker/Clint Barton plot, and to change the preferences from any requests to only requests for canon fandom works and the plots listed here.

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: New Roleplays, M/M - Original, Marvel, White Collar
« Reply #4 on: December 20, 2017, 10:03:00 PM »
Added the Peter Parker/Wade Wilson plot.

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: New Roleplays, M/M - Original, Marvel, White Collar
« Reply #5 on: January 14, 2018, 11:04:38 PM »
Added the Marketplace Series option

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: Roleplays, M/M - Original & Canon, Marvel, White Collar, Marketplace
« Reply #6 on: January 27, 2018, 09:47:43 PM »
Added Riftwar Saga

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: Roleplays, M/M - Original & Canon, Marvel, Marketplace, Riftwar Saga
« Reply #7 on: March 11, 2018, 10:28:53 PM »
Monthly Bump

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Re: Roleplays, M/M - Original & Canon, Marvel, Marketplace, Riftwar Saga
« Reply #8 on: April 13, 2018, 04:16:51 PM »
Monthly Bump

Offline ultimategeekTopic starter

Updated to include the Sentinel A/B/O plot and to update the cravings section.