Topic: The Drawing Board ◦ F for M ◦ The sound of typing was our lullaby...

[VivifiedVanity]

Table of Contents ◦ On & Off Thread

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Please, please, please, don't post in this thread.  PM me instead.  This is the only reason I like to keep this thread locked.  c:
the character I am looking for is in bold x the character that I wish to play is in italics

craving for fan-based pairings: The Longest Night, the Darkest Day [ctrl + f] (Quintus x Dutch Velders)
craving for original pairings: Vampires and the dangers for the mortals bedding them...

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Marvel ◦ Thor/Avengers/Thor The Dark World MCU Jötunn!Loki, the God of Mischief x Sigyn Iwaldidottir, the Goddess of Fidelity MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Sigyn Iwaldidottir, the Goddess of Fidelity MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x the healer who is often left to deal with him MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Darcy Lewis, Research Assistant and Intern MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Jane Foster, Astrophysicist MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch The Hobbit ◦ The Battle of the Five Armies Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm x Tauriel, the Captain of the Guard Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm x Arwen Undómiel, the Lady of Rivendell Original Story/Pairing ◦ Science Fiction, Modern Day/Futuristic (m) damaged biomechanical humanoid x (f) the daughter of a technician Original Story/Pairing ◦ Dark Fantasy, Victorian Era/Modern (m) the Mad Hatter x (f) the Alice for his Wonderland [taken] (m) vampire x (f) willing or reluctant maiden

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Marvel ◦ The First Avenger/Winter Soldier/Civil War James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x Felicia Hardy, Black Cat James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x Darcy Lewis, Research Assistant and Intern James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x the nurse in hidden in the crowd MCU Vision x Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch Marvel ◦ Daredevil MCU Matthew Murdock, Daredevil x Selina Kyle, Catwoman MCU Matthew Murdock, Daredevil x Felicia Hardy, Black Cat MCU Matthew Murdock, Daredevil x Karen Page The Strain ◦ The Fall ◦ The Night Eternal Quintus Sertorius, Quinlan, Mr. Q x Dutch Velders Original/Fanbased/Miscellaneous Pairings and Other Things Visuals for Mood and Inspiration

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[VivifiedVanity]

[VivifiedVanity]

Original Story/Pairing ◦ Dark Fantasy, Victorian

There’s an introduction hidden behind the spoiler, and it’s for a story that died only a few posts in, one that I desperately want to revive.  It was about a vampire who took on a human ward when she was but a small thing, only a few years old when he found her, but she’s since grown into a fair young maiden, dewy-eyed and drawn to the world, her body blossoming with all the temptation pale flesh and smooth skin can offer one such as him.  She’s aware of those temptations...  She knows what he is and what he does -- something that he instilled in her back when she was still small.

He did it to scare her away and keep her safe, filling her head with a half-lie born on a nightmare, but with a found book and her own budding desire to find out what happens between men and women... he’s become an object of fascination for her, something that’s terribly dangerous for the both of them.  Read through what I have if you want, and if it interests you, drop me a message!  c:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Open Introduction/Open Roleplay

Marriage.  This had all started because of a marriage.  Marriage wasn't a foreign concept to Lalette Thelwell, not entirely...  She knew that it bound together a man and  a woman, and that once bound... children often filled their home.  Boys seemed to the preferred, and husbands expected their wives to provide them with at least one healthy son... but with all the trouble that little boys seemed to get into while playing in the street, a secret part of Lalette doubted that was what anyone really wanted.  Boys were mischief-makers and little thieves that slipped their tiny hands into unwary pockets, where the little girls only sold pretty flowers...  Lalette had read countless stories about love, marriage, and courtship, but she had never considered what it meant to be married.   She had never pulled the idea from her books and fairytales and applied it to her own life...

Lifting her head from the book nestled in her lap, her pale blue eyes nervously flicked towards the open door, and her soft lips pressed themselves into a stern line.  No, she hadn't heard anything.  He was still out for the morning.  She was still alone.  She still had time.

Had he ever been married before, being what he was, or was that simply a human affair that he no longer thought to trouble himself with...?

Lalette had woken early, and the morning air had been frigid against her skin, made even colder by the heavy storm clouds that brewed in the distance.   She’d resisted the temptation to stay snuggled in her warm bed, and had ventured out, settling herself on the floor in front of one of the towering bookshelves dressed only in her nightgown and housecoat to ward off the chill.  Her nightgown was a long, pale thing, and it shaped to the gentle swell of her small breasts, bunching over them before flowing down to brush against the tops of her bare feet in a smattering of layers that hid her long legs away from immodesty.  Her tiny hands fumbled blindly for the drawstrings of her housecoat, and once found she brought them together, joining and knotting them loosely beneath her bosom.

The gray garment draped its way over her shoulders, covering her slender arms with long sleeves that dipped down past her delicate wrists while the rest of it was busy shaping softly to her hips on its way to her knees.

Letting her hands return to the book that rested against her thighs, her pale blues searched its pages.  This wasn’t the first book that she’d pulled down from the shelves since she’d settled in front of them, nor was it her third, forth, or even her fifth.

Piles of the ones she’d already looked through sat around her, surrounding her, and interlaced between them were manuals and other pieces of literature that had promised her information but had only proven to be unhelpful.  Their colours varied, their sizes too, shapes, and thicknesses, but they all shared on commonality -- their subject.    They were meant for young brides to read before their wedding night to better prepare them for what happened in the marriage bed, but those books were dusty things that looked to be as dated as their pages felt.

Their only intention seemed to be impressing upon young wives that they should be wary of their husbands lust, nothing more.

’A man’s lust was a revolting thing that brought a woman only pain, and it was her duty to endure that pain, preserving through it until the deed was done.’  Or so said every bit of literature that she’d looked through since starting this venture, and if Lalette’s opinion meant anything, it was all rubbish!

The books said that wedding nights were supposed to be terrifying, because it meant sleeping with a man for the first time, but as Lalette knew, there was nothing terrifying about sleeping with a man, even one far more dangerous than any husband ever could be.

Growing frustrated with what was scattered about her, her cheeks reddened with her temper as she tossed the latest one to the side and reached for something else on the shelf, and what landed in her lap was heavier.  Looking at the cover, she felt hope stir in her heart that it would be more helpful, because it was a medical book...  Hurriedly she started to flip through page after page, quickly working her way towards the information that she wanted, and when she finally reached it she found herself staring curiously at what the book showed her.

It was a drawing, sketched by hand, but it was familiar to her.  She’d touched herself before.  She’d been drawn in by the gentle roll of her own fingers against the small bundle of nerves that she’d found between her thighs and the feeling had left her trembling, her legs shaking...

Running her hand over the page, she studied the lines and arrows that led from the drawing to the descriptions of each piece of anatomy, but the words were such strange things that none of them lingered in her head for very long.

Latin.  She knew enough of the langue to recognise it, but not enough to have any hope of deciphering it.

This whole, frustrating endeavour had been started because one of her only friends was betrothed, and she would soon be taken away by her new husband.  Fiona Holloway was to bed wed in a month’s time, and she’d seemed so nervous about the whole thing when she’d pulled Lalette aside to tell her the news -- almost frightened.

Biting her lip, Lalette turned the page, and she found illustration after illustration of the female form in various poses as she continued on, page after page.  Each one had names and descriptions of what their working parts were -- but none of it was what she was looking for.  Wives were to be wary of their husbands, not husbands of their wives...  It meant that there was something different beyond the obvious, something men had that women didn’t -- something that connected the two...  Something horrible that left the sheets red and bloodied...

When she finally found the page that answered that question -- what that mysterious difference was -- Lalette’s hand moved slowly, tracing the book’s edge.   She had never seen a man without his clothes before, nor had she ever stopped to consider what one might look like...

She knew that men were often taller with broader shoulders, their hands coarser, rougher at the fingers and thumb...  Their jaws were more striking, sharper even, more defined -- and where women had breasts to contend with, men only had beards...

But this...?  This was what men hid away beneath their clothes?  The tiny thing that somehow connected husbands to their wives...?

Tilting her head to the side, her small hand pressed itself to the old page, her fingers sliding apart, and she measured the drawing even though she knew it had been made to scale.  It was maybe an inch in length... and the strange thing seemed to lie there helplessly, resting against the odd shape nestled beneath it...  The longer she stared at it, the more she found herself wondering what it felt like for a man when he touched himself.  Did it feel the same...?  Did he too go wobbly in the knees and want to cry out...?  Did her caretaker --?

Refusing to finish that thought, Lalette’s forehead crinkled into a frown as she lifted the book from her lap and leaned it towards the faint light that streamed in through the window beside her.  The window was heavily curtained, but she’d pulled a corner of it to the side so that she’d be able to see her answers if she found them, and though this was something... it wasn’t a proper answer to much of anything.

Shifting herself back against the bookshelf, she drew her legs in close, her knees lifting, and she balanced the bottom edge of the book against them. 

That was when it happened.  Something hidden in the pages of the right side of the book pushed forward and slid free, dropping into her lap.

Her shoulders jerked upwards with the suddenness of it, her eyes immediately looking to the thing -- which turned out to be nothing more than a second book far smaller than the heavy tome she’d been looking through.  Frowning, she looked back at the medical book and started to flip through its pages, searching for where the smaller book had fallen from, and she discovered that a portion of the tome had been cut away.  That hole ran the depth of the book, creating a tiny compartment nestled within the pages where someone had obviously hidden something, and when she lifted the book up, the weight of it must have shifted forward.  The pages hadn’t been strong enough to hold it in place, and it had fallen free...

Her blue eyes dropped, looking hesitantly at what had landed in her lap, and her frown deepened as she studied the small book’s dark cover.

Forbidden was the only word that had been printed across it, and its font was a scrolling, silver thing...
 
 

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The dilapidated mansion where Lalette lived was older than the books dwelling in its library, and its weathered roof and ancient brickwork turned it into little more than a heavy gray smudge at the top of a lonely hill, monstrous and looming.  Towers and buttresses peaked from its shingled roof, making its imposing figure all the more intimidating, and what windows there were, were kept dark, always, blackened by the heavy drapes that blocked out the daylight.  The only room where they were ever pulled aside was the library... and for the moment, the overcast mood from the gray morning flooded into the room with its whispers of rain.  There were chairs interspersed throughout the room, and while several of them were covered with warm blankets and soft pillows, the largest and most inviting was the oversized divan hidden towards the back. 

Lalette had been drawn to that chair, as she always was, and leaning back into it, she let its plush cushions envelop her as she drew her legs up, placing her newfound Forbidden friend against her knees.  Her blue eyes were wide as she studied its cover, wider still when she finally worked up to easing it open... and its first few pages were as pale as she was in the light that found its way in through the window behind her.

One of them was an index, and it was over that page that her attention hovered as she dragged her finger down its long list of entries.

She felt herself hesitate over a few of them before she eventually settled on one, and it was with some trepidation that she made herself turn to the page.  Merman.  The story had started off innocently with a mer washed up on the shore of a small cove.  He'd been little more than a mess of blood, bruises, and tangled netting when the maiden had found him lying there in the sand, but she hadn't had the heart to leave him there to die alone.
 
 

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Tending to him as best she could, she removed the netting and bound his wounds with strips of fabric torn from her pale dress, but beyond that, all she could do was try to make him as comfortable as possible...  Pillowing his head in her lap instead of trying to move him elsewhere, her fingers roamed gently through his hair, brushing it carefully from his pale face while she worked the tangles from it.  It was what her mother had always done to help soothe her, and judging from the sound that vibrated softly from inside his throat... it seemed as though it was working for him too.  He stayed that way for hours, barely moving save for the steady rise and fall of his chest... and she remained with him, patiently watching over him while he slept.  It was during that time that she was free to study him, and study him she did, because she was barely able to take her eyes from him... His hair was just as dark as hers, long and soft to the touch, and where her skin was fair, his was fairer, his torso long and lean...  He looked for all-the-world as though his fine-boned features had been carved from marble, and that pale flesh spanned down well past his navel with dark veins threading just beneath.  That was where his humanity ended though, his skin fading into the soft scales that wrapped his lower body as though they were a blanket, first an ashen gray then a midnight blue, and the tail they formed for him was imposing, its length massive even without the variety of delicate fins that adorned it.  Those differences painted his alabaster skin too, with the gills that rippled the flesh of his throat to the sharp tips of his ears...  the fins that extended past his elbows, the webbing between his fingers, and the frightening nails that those long digits ended with -- and each one was edged by the bluest of midnights, further setting it off against his otherwise pale skin...

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Things took a different turn from there, the mer’s dark scales falling away as his skin dried, and a pair of legs were revealed, just as human looking as the maiden’s own. 

He awoke shortly after, and what stared up towards the maiden wasn’t as thankful as one might expect, it was frightened and violent, he first trying to escape her and then lashing out when his legs proved to be ineffective and wobbly beneath his weight.
 
 

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Wrestling the maiden to the sand, he held her there, his body pressing down against hers to keep her still, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin with how close his mouth was to her throat.  It was a warning -- a warning that told her that he didn’t trust her... a warning that whispered to her that he thought her just as dangerous to him as he was trying to make himself to her... and that warning was punctuated by the soft rumble that emanated from his throat, low and threatening...  Looking up at him, she saw that he was watching the shore, looking for any signs of life besides their own, and only after a long moment did he look down at her, his black eyes meeting her blues. The dark pools that she found herself staring into were oppressive in their loneliness, and she felt herself fall into them, lost to their nothingness...  Struggling to find her voice, her first words were soft and timid as they tumbled out of her, and so she tried again, her voice becoming somewhat steadier with her second attempt.  It was a plea, a desperate one, and it made his black eyes fixed on her mouth, so she continued. She explained that she’d only found him and bound his wounds, and that the only reason she’d stayed with him for so long was to make sure that nothing happened to him while he slept.  She promised him that he was free to leave whenever he wished, and that she would even help him into the water if need be...   And she implored with him that she wished him to stay awhile and talk with her -- that she wanted to hear all about the sea and what it was like to live there, surrounded by that endless blue....  Silence descended over them after, and the only thing that dared to disturb the stillness that accompanied it was the sound of their mingled breathing, heavy and ragged. His eyes flicked up to hers, the motion slow and deliberate, and just as the maiden started to wonder if everything she’d said to him had washed over him like nothing more than abstract sound, he gracelessly withdrew from her...  He’d been afraid of her, that was all...

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Lalette frowned at the page as she re-read the last bit several times to be sure that she’d understood it properly.  He’d been afraid of her?  Mer were said to be horrible things that dragged misfortunate mariners down into the depths to feed upon them.  Could such a monster even feel fear...?  Did they...?  Or was this story so far removed from reality that --  Lalette stopped herself there, her eyes wide as they remained trained on the words in front of her.    She had to keep herself focused for now.  She already had questions that she couldn’t answer.  She didn’t need more...  She didn’t even know if mer were real or simply a work of fiction themselves.

Licking a finger, she started to flip through the pages, and her blues skimmed over each one briefly for anything that looked to be of value.  It was towards the end of the story that she finally slowed and began to read again while idly wondering if her caretaker had been afraid her of when he’d found her helpless and alone so many years ago...
 
 

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Standing on the shore of the small cove, there was only the light of the moon to warm the fair maiden as the waves washed over her bare feet.  Her blue eyes looked out over the black water, and they watched its ebb and flow as her fingers eased the soft material of her dress up to her hips, exposing her long legs before the garment was stripped away and tossed to the side.  Left with nothing but the pale light to cover her milky skin, she sank down into the shallow water, and her body relaxed into its lazy back and forth, lulled by how it swirled around her hips.  She was half in the water, half out, and the sloping shore lovingly wrapped her in the natural divide between air and water as though tucking her into bed for the night. Her hands moved over her thighs, gradually walking their way up her stomach and over her breasts, and as they settled against her neck, she nervously drew her knees out of the water, her heels sliding over the smooth sand beneath her. Those long limbs parted when she felt a pair of warm hands ease between them, the mer's lips next to find her skin, breathing out a kiss against her stomach as he came to her from the sea, and as he started to mouth his way towards her throat, her fingers lost themselves in his dark hair. Her nails tickled over his scalp, brushing the delicate tips of his ears as they moved, and he responded with a deep purr that hummed from his throat.  Settling against her, his flesh was soft, his body warm, and it was between her thighs that his supple scales rubbed against her skin while something even warmer brushed against the underside of her leg and rested itself there, heavy with need.  She had already been aching for him, but that sensation made it unbearable, and a breathless gasp forced itself from her lips as her head fell back against the sand, her body arching softly beneath his. With one hand still lost in his hair, the other made its way down his back, and the tips of her fingers trailed lightly over his pale skin as she turned her head towards him, breathing a single word against his ear that left him shuddering.  Please. Her voice sounded desperate, and he didn't have it in himself to keep her waiting once he’d heard it.  She pulled him towards her, her mouth claiming his throat in a hot kiss, her teeth grazing his skin, and he groaned as he lined himself up and pushed his way inside of her, the tapered nature of his anatomy easing his passage. The warm water lapped against their skin as they remained there, motionless, their eyes closed, breathing heavy, and she was the first to regain herself, breaking the moment by pushing him onto his back so that she sat astride him.  Bewildered, he tried to sit up with her -- tried to wrap his arms around her and keep her close, but she stopped him with a gentle shake of her head as she rested her hands against his chest.  Feeling him hesitantly settle back against the sand, she let her hands play over his skin, her soft fingertips tracing invisible patterns down his chest and over his stomach, and slowly... she started to roll her hips, the waves setting the measure of her movements, her body shaking with the intensity of it. Writhing beneath her, his hands restlessly found her thighs, and when she finally opened her blues and looked down at him, she found him watching her, his lips parted in a pant, those black pools staring at her in a desperate confusion as he tried to rationalise what she was doing. He didn't last long after that -- neither of them did, the friction of his soft scales between her legs quickly driving her near mad, and when it happened, she was first to be overwhelmed.  She let out a soft cry that was swallowed up by the sound of the waves, her back arching suddenly, and as her legs started to tremble his hands pulled her hips down against him, a breathless moan leaving his mouth as his desire spilled into her.

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Lalette stopped her reading abruptly, her eyes as large as saucers as she stared hard at the page.  Though the writing had been vague at best, it had told her enough...  She knew.  She knew what this was.  This was the same feeling as when she pressed her fingers against herself.  That feeling -- that indescribable feeling -- only here it was being shared between two people, the woman moving herself against the mer to create that maddening friction.  Her lower lip was trembling, her knees pressing tightly together, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as this realisation washed over her.

Why was this being made into something to be afraid of?  There wasn’t any pain when she touched herself...   No bloodied sheets -- unless maybe she was somehow missing something?

Flipping through a few more pages, she skipped over several stories that didn’t seem apt to suit her needs until she found herself looking down at a word that had drawn her attention solely because of its strangeness.  Incubus.  The words below the odd title told of a man who was said to be one, otherwise known as a pleasure demon, and he fed from the desires of those he bedded.  His intended for the evening was someone whom he had visited before, regularly, but he did so only as often as was safe for her, because the ordeal could be draining if not dangerous to humans if they were pushed too far...
 
 

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He took her against her writing desk, and with her supple form bent over it that bit of dated furniture was the perfect height for the deed.  His hands drifted up from her thighs, sliding over her hips and dragging the material of her dress with them, and when she felt the cold night air kissing against her bare skin, she pressed her cheek into the warm wood, steadying herself.  He kept her there, teetering between desire and pleasure with his thrall while he fed from her arousal, but his hunger had yet to be sated...  He needed something more...  Leaning down against her, he mouthed the back of her neck, his breath warming her already flushed skin, and as he thrust his hips forward, pinning her against the desk, they both cried out... Once inside of her though his patience returned, because he waited...  He waited for her to ask for it -- to beg him to give her relief with what he’d buried in her... and beg she did, pawing and clawing at the desk as she tried to move herself against him. Yielding that need, the pleasure demon started to rock his hips against hers, his pace steady and relentless until they sounded the moment of their release, she arching beneath him as he slumped against her, their bodies trembling. Regaining what he could of himself, the pleasure demon moved her to the bed afterwards, carrying her over to it and crawling beneath the covers with her to tuck her in for the night, but he wasn’t through...  His desire had only been heightened, and though she was exhausted, she still wanted him, his aura drowning her in a drunken state of need.  He had her again, the both of them nestled in that soft bedding, their clothes stripped away, and his thrusts slowly rocked her back into that desperate state of oblivion before sleep finally claimed the both of them.

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Lalette had skipped ahead through the story, skimming the words and overlooking anything that didn’t have to do with what she was trying to find, and again she was left wanting for something she didn’t understand when she finished.  She huffed out her exasperation and turned her gaze towards the window, and she felt even more disheartened by how far into the sky the sun had climbed.  He would be back soon -- and a part of her knew that she shouldn’t be caught reading such things...  It was the same part that had warned her to not discuss what it felt like to have her fingers so busily between her legs.

Turning back to the book in her lap, she flipped back to the index, and on a whim, she dragged a finger down the long list of titles, looking for something specific, hoping against hope that it would be there.  If this was a book about monsters, then it belonged amongst the weathered pages.

He’d warned her not to tempt him since she was old enough to understand -- warned her that he was dangerous in that state, that the bloodlust made him saved and unpredictable, but if mer could be afraid of what they were said to feed on... then what would this book have to say about him and what he was?  Her finger stopped moving towards the bottom of the page, and above it was the word that she’d been searching for. 

Vampire.  She forgot how to breathe.
 
 

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The vampire made his way quietly towards his intended, and their eyes were locked in a heated stare as he drew nearer to her.  Her hands moved to her chest as he followed her to the foot of her bed, and gradually those slender limbs climbed higher, her fingertips trailing over her bare throat to tease him as she gathered her dark locks and brushed them to the side.  Leaning against one of the tall posts that held the canopy aloft, her back arched suggestively to lead his hungry eyes further down her body, but when he reached for her, he wanted only one thing... and though he turned her roughly, his mouth was gentle against her throat.  The sensation left her weak in the knees as he mouthed her neck, and her eyes fluttered shut. His hand made its way down her body, slipping between her thighs, and as his long fingers circled purposefully against her she started to shake. The fabric between the tips of his fingers and the bundle of nerves he was stimulating dulled the sensation for her despite its thinness, and she voiced her frustration with a desperate mewl that fell from her full lips and quickly devolved into a shuddering moan as the delicate points of his teeth sank slowly but deeply into her flesh. Her response was immediate, her body writhing and quaking beneath his ministrations, and she reached behind herself with a trembling hand, losing her fingers in his dark hair while her other hand pulled at the sleeve of the lean limb he’d wrapped around her waist to hold her upright.  She could feel him pressing against her, his body firm beneath the layers of clothes and something firmer still pressing against her backside as he strained against his trousers...

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Lalette stopped her reading, and her eyes were wide as she drew her knees in closer to herself.  Her cheeks had flushed crimson, and her breathing was little more than a nervous flutter.  Straining?  The vampire in the story had been straining against his trousers...?  Did that mean that he strained against his trousers when he fed, or were the two things unrelated...?  And did his victims really find so much pleasure when he fed from them?  ...They weren’t supposed to.  He’d told her that much once she was old enough to understand what he was and how dangerous he was to her if precautions weren’t taken.

He'd told her that his bite left his victims screaming, their blood on fire as they clawed and struggled against him, but despite their protests -- despite the agony he knew it caused them... he never relented, not until he was finished.  ...Not until he was sated.

More and more questions tumbled into her head, but before she could continue reading she noticed them -- the footsteps on the stairs.  Her heart leapt into her throat, strangling a startled gasp from her before she snapped her book shut and stuffed it under the cushion beneath her.

Hopping up, she made for the bookshelf, and she hastily pulled down the first book she found that would fill the tall order of being disarming.  It turned out to be a pale blue thing about herbs and their healing properties, and she recognised it by its cover alone because it was one of her favourites.  Dropping back onto the couch, she resumed her pose and flipped open the book just in time to hear him push the door open, and she did her very best to appear enthralled by what was on the page she’d turned to.

She listened to him make his way over to her, and her blue eyes remained wide as she trained them on the page, her tiny fingers nervously working over the edges.  Her imagination was on fire with all that she’d read, and the thrum of her heartbeat in her ears drowned out even his voice.

There was a light jostle as he sat down on the couch with her, and she let that draw her gaze away from the book she had resting against her thighs, her blue eyes settling heavily on his knee as she pretended to be startled.

He’d taken her in when she was very small and had raised her as though she was his own, but she’d never thought of him as a father.

She was seventeen now and thus more than old enough to understand that he wasn’t her father, and that he never would be, because there were things that fathers told their daughters to prepare them for the world...  What he did was overprotective at the best of times, and overbearing at the worst.  There were many days where she quietly resented him because of how constant it all was, and on those days it took every ounce of her strength to resist throwing herself against the bars he used to keep her caged and attempt to thrash and kick her way to freedom.

She didn’t love him.  She didn’t, and it felt cruel knowing it, but how could she when he was all she was allowed to know in the world?

And yet... there were still moments where he made her heart race -- moments that she didn’t quite understand...  Moments where he leaned in just a bit to close or she felt his breath against the back of her neck...

Moments where she wished he’d holder her righter when they slept together, and even rarely moments where she wished he’d do something to relieve the strange tension that had built up inside her from the pit of her stomach down – tension that made it oh so very hard for her to think straight or even breathe...

Had that strange tension always been a desire for him to push her dress up and thrust some mysterious part of himself inside of her?  Had she always wanted to feel him between her thighs, rocking her towards the same release that her fingers were so adapt at finding?

Lalette’s expression was pensive as all of this fluttered through her head within the span of a few heartbeats, and only when there was silence once more did her eyes flick up to his pale face.  He was tired, and she could see that written in the dark circles beneath his eyes...  With the mer, the maiden had been beneath him, her thighs on either side of him, and with how he was sitting with her now, she only had to drape a slender leg over his lap and pull him towards her as she fell back against the couch... but would he even want that?

Maybe that was why he hadn’t yet -- or maybe the book she’d read had been a work of fiction, and instead of moaning... his teeth would have her sobbing to get away from him, the rest of him too...  Maybe it was only blood and pain like the manuals had warned.

“...Are mermaids real?” Lalette asked suddenly, and her voice was soft as she overlooked anything he might have said to her since coming in.

Resisting the urge to reach for him, she closed her blood slowly, and her hand moved absently as though she’d been distracted by something out of the blue.  An abstract thought, completely unrelated to the information nestled in her lap and altogether harmless...

   

the desired pairing ◦ vampire x willing or reluctant maiden
name ◦ Darkness has Fallen
content ◦ Vampires.  Biting and Mild Blood Play.  Heavy Seduction.  Dubious Consent.  Reluctance Leading to Begging.  Possible Virginity.

scenario ◦ What I want from this is a vampire/victim story.  It would be brief, and the how and where it happens would be determined via discussion, as would the level of reluctance from either the vampire or the victim.  Maybe he follows her home or finds her by happenstance, deciding for one reason or another to satisfy more than just his bloodlust with her to make sure that she enjoyed the experience.  He’d wait patiently, though only long enough to be sure that she’d be both willing and wanton for him, her desires heightened by his overpowering thrall and she lured into it by his allure and charm...   And then he’d have her, leaving her spent and slumbering by the time he was through with her, she pale and drained but otherwise unharmed...

Maybe she even knows what he is the moment she sees him standing there, the lore preceding him into the world of her imagination and making her far more complacent than she otherwise would be with something less than the monster beneath her bed.

Or perhaps she’s the pale little thing he’s kept locked way in his home for some time for companionship, never once laying a finger on her.

To her he’d be something beautiful that dwells in darkness, and that would leave her strangely curious about what makes him into such a terrifying thing to the eyes of others.  She’d know the stories... and the nightmares... and that it’s only heartless beasts that rip the throats out of women and men while they’re at the most vulnerable... but she would see none of that in him.  Nothing but the occasional gleaming tips of his white teeth, and thus she'd find herself wanting for her answers.  She’d want for him to show her that side of himself, and so it would be her who gently seduces him into ravishing her... she the youthful innocent, and he the monsters suddenly so very desperate to give her those answers...

location ◦ It would depend on what's decided beyond Modern Day or the Victorian Era...
requirements ◦ I’m looking for someone to play the vampire for this story. Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Short-term fading to something possibly long-term...

other info ◦ I'm going to make it very clear that this is not intended to be a non-consensual story.  While there may be a drop or two of reluctance towards the beginning, with a dash of mild resistance to add to the mood, all of that will have faded away by the time that these two start having their way with one another.  This story should be more about seduction, not about force.  Also, if the interest is there I wouldn't have a problem moving this from a one-shot to something a little lengthier once we’ve tested the waters.

For the lore surrounding vampires, I prefer a delicate blend of Bram Stoker and Anne Rice, though I doubt this story would delve too deeply into that.  Regardless, we can discuss all of that in-brief or in-depth depending on what we determine to be required for our story.

[VivifiedVanity]

Marvel ◦ Thor/Avengers/Thor The Dark World

While all of the variations of Loki throughout Marvel and its various mediums have a special place in my heart, the adaptation of him that I am most fond of is from the MCU.  That is the only version of him I am interested in starting a roleplay around, and the same goes for most of the other Marvel characters.  I'm fine with, and often do, flesh out backstories via what was laid out in the comics, because the movies do not span the breadth of information that I want them to, but outside of that I try to maintain the tone and feel laid out in the films.  If it will be difficult for you to separate the different versions of him, then we may not be a good fit for one another with this story...  This does not mean that we can't write together, this just may not be the story/pairing for us to do.

   

the desired pairing ◦ MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Sigyn Iwaldidottir, the Goddess of Fidelity
story title ◦ Lokasenna
potential content ◦ Clothed or Dry Sex.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Learning and Inexperience.  Role Reversal.  Verbal Foreplay.  Making Use of a Silver Tongue.  Magic and Dexterous Fingers.  Begging.  First Times.

scenario ◦ The daughter of Freya and the dear younger sister to the fabled Idunn, the Sigyn in my head is a middle child with all the trappings of someone who never quite found their niche in life.  She’s a lithe thing, with pale blond hair often bundled messily at the back of her head, fair skin prone to flushing, and large, fog blue eyes lost somewhere between the vividness of colour and the indifference of gray.  Ever fond of soft, light-weight fabrics, her wardrobe is rare to have anything in it outside of long dresses with material loose enough to trail gently behind her as she moves, their sheerness something that would be dangerous to the imagination if not for the many layers...  Soft and warm, she’s demure but playful and altogether inquisitive, with a coy smile that shines through the air of naïvety that seems to follow her.

However, amidst her sweetness she has the habit for stubbornness that shows itself only when she’s confronted on something that she feels passionately about, because to those that have found their way into her heart of hearts, she is loyal to the point of foolishness…

Despite her tender nature, I imagine Sigyn as one of the few people forward enough to put their hand over Loki’s mouth and tell him to hush when he starts to get ahead of himself.  She would soothe and quiet the storm instead of his head with her presence while somehow still managing to ruffle his feathers more than anyone else ever has, he aroused by her both mentally and physically while still feeling nothing but frustration towards her.

She would bring out the emotional side of him, or, for those looking for somewhat of a darker story, the more possessive...

And for Sigyn, she would have been fascinated by the dark haired prince from the moment she first laid eyes on him when she was but a little girl, because he’d always been different from the rest.  Leaner, lighter on his feet, more talented with his hands and mind… with dark hair, pale skin, and a wardrobe always immaculate...   It would have been his moods she first wondered at -- the occasional looks towards friends that were less than friendly, quips that were never heard, but as she grew older, her attraction to him would have evolved with her...  She’d want to know what it felt like to thread her fingers through his hair, mussing it while leaving the rest of him a disheveled mess... and what he would look like after she’d finished with him...

location ◦ Asgard, the Realm Eternal, to anywhere else within the Nine Realms...
requirements ◦ I’m looking for an MCU Loki for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ I would love to put this pairing into motion as many ways as I can, and I’m very open to any and all ideas that would allow this to happen; however, to be fair, I’ll offer up the ideas I have below as optional springboards for lengthier discussions.  Take them as they are, leave them, or mould them together to make something entirely different...

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

If Sigyn were unfortunate enough to find herself in Loki's path while his temper is still hot from something that had happened earlier in the day, maybe it would be her warm smile and gentle but insistent curiosity of him that would finally soothe down his bristles.  The cause of his mood could be an adventure-gone-awry while he was with Thor and his warriors three..  Perhaps it would have been something that could have been easily prevented had they simply listened to Loki and taken the more subtle approach, going about it with a lighter touch...  But instead they didn't and charged headlong into the fray, leaving Loki to bear the brunt of the fallout.  He would be angry and bruised, and Sigyn's would be the willing ear for him, his lips loosened for her by a well-placed bump on the head.  That bump would have him wobbly and still seeing stars, and Sigyn would have little choice but to shoo him back to the healers before he found a way to hurt himself further.

She might even offer to take over the task of tending to him herself if he promised to make himself more agreeable for her, her method and manner leaving him vaguely curious about the daughter of Freya -- probably much to the relief of the healer who is often left to deal with the dark haired prince...

(optional pairing for a long-term, short-term, or side story) MCU Loki x the healer who is often left to deal with him

The bump on his head would have him still seeing stars, which would be why she'd be quick to shoo him back to the healers.

   

the desired pairing ◦ MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Sigyn Iwaldidottir, the Goddess of Fidelity
story title ◦ Jötunheimr Blue
potential content ◦ Mild Temperature Play.  Foreign Anatomy.  Heavy Seduction.  Dubious Consent Leading to Begging.  Making Use of a Silver Tongue.  Magic and Dexterous Fingers.  First Times and a First Time with Different Anatomy.

scenario ◦ While I’m definitely interested in Loki and Sigyn dealing with the emotional half of his Jötunn heritage and how deeply it’s rattled him raw, I’m more interested in having them deal with the physical side of it.  He would be fundamentally the same and yet vastly different than anything she's been told to expect from a man....  The subdued blue of his eyes would turn to a bloody crimson, his pale skin too shifting from a milky white to a dark blue while becoming much colder to the touch, and its texture would be far richer with the webwork of designs running the length of him.

...Her wandering fingers would only be able to discern one intended purpose for them; the building of a maddening friction between him and the person he's buried in...  What he's sensitive to and the sensations that he would feel would be different for him too, his desires heightened and balanced on a hairpin trigger compared to his usual restraint and reserve...  He'd be hungrier, but overall he would still be her Loki, and Sigyn, once her dismay had faded after hearing of his Jötunn heritage, would be overeager to explore every inch...  She would want to be the first to feel him, and were he to hold himself back from losing himself within her embrace, she would try her hardest to drive him mad with temptation until he finally broke down and overwhelmed her, leaving the both of them exhausted and panting against one another.

The dialogue between them would be one of frustration, Sigyn trying to lure out that side of him, and Loki trying to resist her because that's not the sort of thing she should want to lie with...

Or maybe instead of a dialogue between them, that side of him comes out all at once, surprising the both of them...  One minute she’s staring up into a pair of hungry blue eyes while his desire presses hotly against her, and in the very next moment those pale blues have turned crimson red under the strain of his mounting passion, his warm body suddenly cold between her thighs.  More interesting still were it to happen to them in the dark...

location ◦ Asgard, the Realm Eternal, to Jötunheimr, the Home of the Jötunn.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Jötunn!Loki for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ Do I think that Loki can shift freely between his blue skin and his pale at a whim, illusions aside?  Sadly, I do not, but it’s one of the simpler methods to turn Loki “blue”, and I’m not at all bothered by its use.  However, I leave the differences between Loki’s Aesir and Jötunn appearances to the liberty of my writing partner as long as they remain within reason, and those differences needn’t be limited to only the cosmetic.  Also, though I would be more than happy to do this as a short-term story if someone were to find themselves interested in it, I would love to build something more long-term between these two, because there's a lot of material that I'm very interested in covering... starting with the history of Borr's wife.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

This is a story that I've been desperately craving for a long time, but it's something that wouldn't follow the storyline laid out in the movies, and it would give my writing partner a bit of freedom in regards to Loki and his personality.  Overall I'd like for him to still be the same character, but... like I said, there would be a lot of freedom.  The only reason that I never bothered to write this down is because I figured that it would be too difficult to find someone interested in it, but, well, here it is...  I would love to do an AU story between Jötunn!Loki and Sigyn Iwaldidottir where Loki was never brought to Asgard as a baby.

He would have stayed behind on Jötunheimr, because he was either never left out on that frozen rock to die as a baby... or there was someone else there to save him before Odin would have found him.

We would have to work some things out, such as why Sigyn would even be paying that frozen world a visit, and if they would stay there for the duration of the story...  or would she intend to take him home with her, saving him from a world that offers no kindness towards Jötunn that don't live up to the meaning of name with their overall size...  Plus there are the Jötunn themselves to work out -- what would their culture be like?  Would it be primitive and violent, or would there be a frightening level of intelligence woven into all of that horror?

And how would Loki himself have faired...  Would he have felt as alone living there as the Aesir-raised version of him felt living on Asgard...?  Would Sigyn's presence be seen as a welcomed relief to what would have maybe been a lifetime of solitude... or would the man she finds in that world of ice and snow be someone who fought his way to the top of the food chain?

I would love to do an AU story between Jötunn!Loki and Sigyn Iwaldidottir where Loki was never brought to Asgard as a baby.

   

the desired pairing ◦ MCU Loki, the God of Mischief x Darcy Lewis, Research Assistant and Intern
story title ◦ Even a Black Heart Beats
possible content ◦ Clothed or Dry Sex.  Someone Getting in Over Her Head.  Overwhelming Stamina and the Exhaustion that Follows.  Verbal Foreplay.  Making Use of a Silver Tongue.  Magic and Dexterous Fingers.

scenario ◦ Darcy Lewis is a lady of many talents.  She lives and works as Jane Foster’s research assistant and intern, makes horrible coffee, watches over Erik Selvig on his off days, documents the progress of their research through what she lovingly calls her ‘unofficial field photography’, has warm hugs on the ready for anyone who looks as though they might need one throughout the day, and she doesn’t know when to drop something if she feels that it’s somehow important.  She has an internal filter that occasionally disappears on her, deals with her stress and worry in ways that are sometimes imaginative, and... she has the very bad habit of both finding trouble and trying to bring it home with her...

And the trouble that I want her to find for this story would be tall, dark, and every bit from a different world.  There are many ways that this could happen, from an ill-timed fall to Midgard to Loki deciding to introduce himself to the new friends that his brother has become so fond of… to Darcy happening upon him while he’s on Midgard -- maybe even finding herself in a situation where he’s the one to stop something dark befalling her in the place of Thor.

Whatever method we decide to use, what I want is for Darcy to become a distraction for him, a diversion if you would, and I want for Loki to have to deal with that and all of the various frustrations he would be left feeling because of it.

This doesn’t mean that I want them to fall into bed with one another immediately, but rather that I want her to become an emotional balm for him.

Her presence would be warm and comforting to him, something that he would be wholly unfamiliar with having, and to her, he would be positively fascinating, more so once she figures out where he’s from.  She wouldn’t think differently of him for all of the oddities that left him feeling so very alone for most of his life.  His magic would be enthralling to her, his lithe build, dark hair, and overall pallor as attractive to her as Thor’s defined physique, and with her he would feel needed... like he wasn’t sharing her affections with his brother despite her fondness for the both of them...

Darcy Lewis would be hands-on with helping him sort through everything that’s been bottled up inside of him for so long, even more so once she realizes how very obstinate he can be about the things he believes to be true, and were she to get close to him I don’t think she would want to let him go.

location ◦ Midgard, the Blue Planet, to anywhere else within the Nine Realms...
requirements ◦ I’m looking for an MCU Loki for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ I'm open to discussions about anything and everything with this pairing.  If you feel like we're looking for the same thing be it mildly angsty fluff to something a wee bit darker, drop me a message so that we can talk about it.  c:

[VivifiedVanity]

Marvel ◦ Daredevil

One of the pairings that I have below involves a bit of harmless crossover fiction between the Daredevil’s world and The Dark Knight’s, and while Marvel and DC have actually done a crossover with them before, I realise that crossovers probably aren’t for everyone.  If you happen to feel that way but still want to have Daredevil working with someone like Miss Selina, I’d be more than happy to fill her role with The Black Cat instead.  The overall dynamic between the two of them would be similar, and I’m absolutely in love with the fact that Felicia Jones played her in the Amazing Spiderman -- and hers is definitely the faceclaim that I would want to use for the lovely lady in question.  For those with an interest in Black Cats instead of Catwomen, drop me a message and we can try to work something out.

     

the desired pairing ◦ MCU Matthew Murdock, Daredevil x Selina Kyle, Catwoman
story title ◦ The Devil is in the Details
possible content ◦ Masked Men.  Masked Women.  Clothed or Dry Sex.  Catholic Guilt.  Confession Booths.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Rough Fingers.  Reluctance Leading to Begging.  Desperation.  Light Bondage.

scenario ◦ When Miss Selina has her heart set on someone or something, she draws it in close to herself and makes it her obsession.  It becomes the only thing that occupies her pretty little head, and what’s been rattling around in there of late has been how to find a bit of information on the shady organisation that once harmed someone very dear to her.  She would want the ones responsible trapped beneath her boot, desperately trying to free themselves while she slowly ground them to dust with her heel so she could savour their dying screams... and for that she would need dirt on them.  Reliable dirt.  Dressed in all the dark feline finery of a master thief and world-class cat burglar, she would head out into the darkness of night, but instead of finding what she’s looking for, she would find a figure...  The Man in a Mask.  The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Maybe his is the hand that stops her at the warehouse door... or he the hero who tries to save her from a dangerous situation she herself set in motion, but I want for these two to meet, and I want that meeting to be disastrous to her plans.  For whatever reasons, they’d be quick to part ways...

...And she would be left frustrated and fascinated by him, and he of her.  It wouldn’t be until a meeting by the light of day that the infatuation between them would turn into something more than passing.  She would be in need of a lawyer, and one of her contacts would hand her the name of Nelson and Murdock.  Never one to start an affair without first looking through her intended’s dirty laundry, Miss Selina would sit-in on one of their court cases to get a feel for them, and there Matthew would recognise her, she the lovely woman sitting a few rows behind the defence, harmless and benign.

It would be the scent of her hair or the fragrance that she wears that would be so hauntingly familiar to him from the night before...

In front of everyone, Matthew would stumble, not enough to drop the ball, but enough that she would notice.  Enough that she would look at him more closely than she otherwise would have, while he...  He would be worried about her being there, uneasy because she found him so close to home...

He would want to know if it’s merely happenstance, or if she has somehow figured out who she is -- and if she has, what does she want from him?

location ◦ Midtown West or Hell’s Kitchen.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for an MCU Matt Murdock for this story. Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ During one of the brief recesses, one would follow the other out towards the lobby, Matthew and Selina ending up alone either by design or by happenstance, and it would be there that she would recognize him once allowed a closer look at his face... or rather, a closer look at the bruises decorating that defined jaw of his...  Or it could happen later, when she finally pays her visit to the Offices of Nelson and Murdock...

Selina would walk through the door, modest and refined, and Matt Murdock would left trying to figure out how best to handle her.

     

the desired pairing ◦ MCU Matthew Murdock, Daredevil x Karen Page
story title ◦ The Man in the Mask
possible content ◦ Masked Men.  Clothed or Dry Sex.  Catholic Guilt.  Offices and Desks.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Rough Fingers.  Reluctance Leading to Begging.  Desperation.  Touch-Starved.  Light Bondage.

scenario ◦ When I first started watching Daredevil, there was something about the way that Matt walked into the interrogation room and sat down across from Karen that made me immediately fall for the thought of something impassioned and desperate happening between them, and as the series went on, that feeling only worsened, leaving me wanting more of their failed relationship.  Whenever they were in the same room, they seemed to be drawn to one another... to close that distance be it with as simple as a touch or as subtle as a lean...  Karen was infatuated with Matthew, and even though she distanced herself from him by the end of the series, her feelings for him wouldn’t have faded.

The reason that she left him and moved on was because she just couldn’t do it anymore -- the secrets, the lies, the ‘fall down the stairs’ and the bumps and bruises that always seemed to follow.  She cared about him too much to sit there and idly watch as he slowly fell apart.

I want to do a story that delves into their feelings for one another, even if it’s only the tattered remains of their former relationship.  I want something that throws them back together for whatever reason, and I don’t care if it’s a story that takes things from where they show left them, all black and blue and raw, or if it’s something that takes things in a vastly different direction that we work out together.  It could be something where he saves her or she saves him...

Or something where the loneliness finally becomes too much for him, and he has to see her again... or just hear her voice.

He’d show up as the man waiting for her in her office, scruffy, tired, and a little worse for wear… or as the sullen figure sitting on her back stoop, waiting on her to return home while being wholly undecided on if he should say ‘hello’ or disappear before she realises he’s there...  Or he’d be the call that comes in the middle of the night at an odd hour, waking her up and having no idea what to say to her when her tired voice finally answers.

location ◦ Midtown West or Hell’s Kitchen.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for an MCU Matt Murdock for this story. Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Short-term fading to something possibly long-term...

other details ◦ The degree of ‘Daredevil’s' involvement in the story is something that would need to be discussed, as well as the how, why, and when Karen finally finds out who he is -- and her finding out is definitely something that I would want to have happen, be it sooner or later within the story...  Maybe she figures it out all on her own who the man behind the mask is... or maybe Matt takes it upon himself to finally try and explain what was so wrong in his life all that time... or perhaps an injured Daredevil finds himself in Karen’s care and one thing simply leads to another...

[VivifiedVanity]

Marvel ◦ The First Avenger/Winter Soldier/Civil War

Like the above, I'm mostly looking for stories involving the MCU version of James "Bucky" Barnes/the Winter Soldier and the story behind him.  That's the version of him that I fell in love with, so I wish to remain true to it, however, I wouldn't be opposed to somewhat of a heavy input from his other variations, because the differences in their overall mood isn't as drastic as it is with some of the others.

   

the desired pairing ◦ James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x Darcy Lewis, Research Assistant and Intern
story title ◦ Hard Reset to Factory Zero
possible content ◦ Clothed or Dry Sex.  Overwhelming Stamina and the Exhaustion that Follows.  Someone Who’s Forgotten What it Feels Like.  Touch-Starved.  Verbal Foreplay.  Vibrating Metal Arms.

scenario ◦ The Winter Soldier lost decades of his life to the organisation known as Hydra where he was experimented on, tortured, broken down, and brainwashed... and whenever he dared to resist them -- the order was issued to return him to factory zero with all the thought that went into shutting down a computer for the night.  To them James Buchanan Barnes was nothing more than investment; a machine they'd spent years moulding into a versatile tool that would never bend, break, relent, or fail them -- and Hydra never has been fond of sharing their toys, damaged or otherwise...  What's left of Hydra would be looking for him.  They would want their loaded gun back one way or another, and they wouldn't care if he was still functional once retrieved.

What I want to happen is for Darcy Lewis to find him first... or for him to find her, and I want for what's left of Hydra to locate him not long after.  Maybe it’s as simple as Darcy seeing him first and deciding to keep him company for a little while, eventually determining that he’s not the sort of thing to leave on his own...

Or perhaps it’s a bit darker, Bucky deciding to follow her because her face is somehow familiar to him with all the countless faces he’s had to memorize over the years...  There’d be a distant safety in that familiarity with everything else feeling so foreign and disjointed to him, as if it’s all been shaking about.

Darcy would assume the worst and confront him, and before the two of them could sort anything out and the innocence behind why he’s tailing her -- Hydra would swoop in, and Darcy would be swept away by the Winter Solider, she initially the reluctant recipient of his protection.  He wouldn’t fight her either once they were safe again.  He’d let her do or say to him anything she wished just short of tasing him or leaving.  With someone to follow -- with someone to listen to, he’d fall back into the habit of it, because when everything is terrifying and disorienting… people hold on to what they know.

location ◦ New York, New York... otherwise known as The Melting Pot.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Winter Soldier for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ For obvious reasons, the story I’ve outlined above would be set after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, though I’d be more than willing to work out a story that happens prior to or even during the film if there’s even a little bit of interest.  Overall, what I’m want from this pairing is for the two of them to find and sort through Bucky’s scrambled memories while Darcy takes it upon herself to reintroduce him to the world...

...And it would be something that she would handle with a mixture of both baby steps and accidentally tossing him in over his head and overwhelming him.

   

The initial idea I had has been taken, but there is an alternative behind the spoiler...

the desired pairing ◦ James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch
story title ◦ Blue Screened Stare
possible content ◦ Clothed or Dry Sex.  Overwhelming Stamina and the Exhaustion that Follows.  Someone Who’s Forgotten What it Feels Like.  Touch-Starved.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Vibrating Metal Arms.  Overwhelmed by Magic.

scenario ◦ With Wanda's powers being what they are within the MCU, I would love to turn her loose on Bucky and his shattered memories.  His head would be little more than a dilapidated room filled with dated furniture and battered dreams, and where others would only be able to see the stoic, sad eyed investment of Hydra, she would be able to meet the man hidden away inside of him and thread her fingers lightly through his hair...  He would have no defences against her, no shield to hide behind, and nothing he could throw at her to stop her, because Hydra desired him to be so.  They delved into his mind and left only wreckage in their wake to make him controllable -- to leave him docile towards their commands... to not let him feel any remorse when he bestowed not but brutality on those Hydra sent him after, and for better or worse Wanda would start to put him back together, because through him, she would be able to see what it was that she and her brother signed up for.  Through his eyes, Wanda would be horrified.

The Hydra they’re familiar with promised them the strength to save their home, and it delivered after making them sign their lives away.  They were the only survivors of those experiments, the only ones to harness and tame what was awakened inside of them, and where Pietro’s gift is beyond remarkable...

Wanda is everything that Hydra ever dreamed of and more.  That is why they’ll never let her go -- why they want to use her, turning her against the world as a weapon more powerful than anything fathomed, but Wanda isn’t one to wear her strings well.

It would have started as an experiment for her, Wanda’s first attempt at testing her power beyond Hydra’s notice, and American soldier or no, she would feel sympathy for the man she found inside of the Winter Soldier, because she would be able to feel what happened to him.  She would know that he never agreed to any of it -- what they did to him or what they turned him into.  He was taken against his will, ripped from the life he knew and made into one of Hydra’s most valuable assets, and every inch of him fought against them for as long as he could hold out...  Wanda would want to bring him his vengeance, and through it, her and her brother’s freedom.

location ◦ From Russia to America, they would probably meet in one of Hydra’s facilities.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Winter Soldier for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ While my heart is set on something that pre-dates the Winter Soldier timeline, I wouldn’t be opposed to discussing something different if there's interest in taking things that direction.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

The Winter Soldier has been on the run for a very long time, and though his memories are finally coming back to him, they’re fragmented... bits and pieces of a former life barely remembered broken up by the walking nightmare of his last seventy years. Hydra turned him into something less than human, a machine only capable of following orders. They turned him into something without a heart, stripping him of his free-will and anything else they deemed too troublesome before they dug their way inside his head and burrowed deep... He’d know how Hydra would feel about losing their Asset -- he’d know the lengths they’d go to in order to have him back... alive or dead. To reclaim what they feel beyond a shadow of doubt is theirs. To wipe him clean and start again, and so he’d be on the run... from them... and anything and everything that try to force him back into that life.

He’d have distanced himself from anyone whom he might hurt or who might be hurt trying to protect him, and he would be exhausted from it all... but he would keep going, because that’s what he was made to do. Relentless... Somewhere in the midst of this, I want for Wanda to find him.

I want her to recognise his face in a crowed or see the flash of silver from his telltale hand... I want her to know who he is and who is looking for him, and I want her to go after him.

His memories are scattered, broken things, held together by the torn out pieces of paper filling his backpack... but he would remember her. He would remember her face from one of the facilities -- remember what Hydra did to her and her brother, and that they were there willingly... He’d know too what she can do, and he’d want nothing to do with her. He’d think her there to take him back...

And so Bucky would do what he always done when he’s confronted from the life he wants to forget. He’d run from her, and she would have to follow him, and maybe it’s as simple as Wanda backing him into a wall and using her powers to subdue him long enough to share a few words with him...

She would want to talk to him, to tell him that his childhood friend is looking for him even though he only wants to be left alone… To let him know that there are people he can turn to... That he doesn’t have to do any of this alone...

Or maybe, maybe during the course of their flight through the city, Hydra does come for him, Murphy’s Law at its finest, and when they see her too they decide two birds with one stone... She was the favourite, after all... She was the sibling with the most promise… Not expecting them and wholly distracted, Wanda would be the first one they’d drop, maybe with the non-lethal method they originally intended only for him... He’d want to leave her, to flee, to turn and just disappear, but a part of him wouldn’t be able to leave her to her fate, and so he would fight them off and take her with him.

He’d find somewhere quiet, somewhere safe... somewhere where she can rest... He’d give her a cold washcloth for her head to make her comfortable, binding her wounds if necessary... and when she finally opened her eyes, it would be up to her to convince him that she’s not a threat to him.  That she doesn’t want to take him back with her.

That this isn’t somehow a trick… That she really does know Steve -- his Steve, and that he is really looking for him despite -- everything... and Wanda would do her best...

Depending on when and where we decide to start, this would happen close to the start of Civil War.

   

the desired pairing ◦ James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier x the nurse in hidden in the crowd
story title ◦ Passionate Sedatives
possible content ◦ Clothed or Dry Sex.  Overwhelming Stamina and the Exhaustion that Follows.  Touch-Starved.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Vibrating Metal Arms.  Nurses in Uniform.

scenario ◦ There’s one pairing in particular that’s always stood out in my mind, and it goes all the way back to the First Avenger.  After Steve, Bucky, and the rest of the 107th made it back safely to base following Steve’s daring rescue, there was a nurse hidden in the crowd that Bucky seemed to take a shine to the moment he noticed her, his blue eyes moving decidedly to her as he flashed her that rather dangerous smile of his.  The way she returned it, however shyly, alluded to where the 107th would be headed once the excitement started to fade, and Bucky would be given a full medical work-up and deemed fine overall despite enduring time in Arnim Zola’s care.  His nurse wouldn’t be the one to tend to him though, and instead he would have one of the more seasoned doctors looking him over.

He would be checked for cuts, bruises, or some indication that something deeper was amiss, and the whole time he would be watching her, casually, captivated by her mood and manner with the other patients...  Until her evening finally started to draw to a close and she came to her last...

Drawing the curtains aside, she would find him sitting there on the bed, pretending that he still needed to be looked over or had found some new ailment that troubled him and the only cure for it was dancing.  He would be flirty, making her laugh as he tried to convince her to let her hair down for an evening, and were she to question him playfully, asking him something without meaning to -- something that the other doctor hadn’t...  Something that would make him remember what happened to him in that room...  He might pause, his smile fading, and maybe she would decide to try bringing it back with a kiss.

location ◦ A quiet corner of the medical tent back in 1943.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Bucky Barnes for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Short-term either as a one-shot or something layered into a longer story...

other details ◦ It would be a sweet affair between them, though it would harbour every bit of the passion pent up in someone who’s been through what Bucky has, and it would nearly drown them.  The affects of what was done to him would finally be starting to manifest too, his senses sharper, his thoughts clearer, and his stamina enough for the both of them, much to his surprise and her frustration.

[VivifiedVanity]

Original Story/Pairing ◦ Dark Fantasy, Modern

The shameless inspiration behind this idea was this fan-made video here.  I didn’t mean for my brain to decide that it needed something like this when I watched it, but it did, so here I am.  While the idea below does focus on a mad man becoming obsessed with a girl and kidnapping her, this is not a non con story outside of the kidnapping itself, which is something I’d like for him to do as an ill-thought-out way of protecting her, not as a means of owning her.  He also wouldn’t try to hurt her.  That should be the last thing on his mind.  Mildly threatening and possibly intimidating, by all means, if the situation calls for it, but beyond that?  It will depend on what we discuss...  Obviously when she first wakes up and finds out what’s happened to her, she’s going to be somewhat unhappy, but over the course of the story I want her to figure out that he’s harmless (fairly early on if we can manage it), it’s just his methods that are a bit unorthodox...

This story has been taken and is no longer available...

     

the desired pairing ◦ the Mad Hatter x the Alice for his Wonderland
story title ◦ Madness Wears a Very Fine Hat
possible content ◦ Benevolent Kidnapping.  Clothed or Dry Sex.  Dubious Consent.  Reluctance Leading to Begging.  Mild Possessiveness.  Obsession Leading to Frustration.

scenario ◦ What would you do if you lost your mind?  If the very fabric of reality warped itself into some abstract version of the world you were so familiar with?  If the streets became pathways through enchanted forests, if cars and bicycles became the hazards of those lands, and if stray cats became... Cheshire?  Maybe his world has always been different, his way of seeing things odd since birth, its inspiration from a fairy tale read to him when he was far too young, or perhaps he suffered a knock on the head that affected his temporal lobe, or maybe...  Maybe he really is from a different world.  A world where it's never wise to eat the food or follow the rabbits when they're running so very, very late...  Regardless of the cause of his delusions, the mad do have a funny way of thinking, and it would be through his madness that he would be made aware of something in the real world... or rather someone.  Someone who would immediately be very dear to him without having the faintest idea of who she is...

She would be the Alice to his Wonderland, and it would be a role that she wouldn't even be aware of, but it would be hers and hers alone.  She would be someone that he once knew...  Maybe a former profession drew them together or a brush in the subway station, she the pale, blond thing with big, blue eyes that bumped into him while in a hurry and stole his heart away...  To him, she'd be something remembered from another life, where books can fly and doors can speak, and maybe part of her would be, her former life forgotten to her, cloudy by the fog of reality...

Only from a distance would he watch her, he trying to figure out why she doesn't see the madness to the world around them, though eventually he would decide that he's had enough.  That it's time for them to go home, and he would naturally want to take her with him.

After all, she would be his key.  She found her way into Wonderland once, why couldn't she do it again?  She must know how...

He would take her in the night, carrying her home with him, and hours later the blue eyes that he first fell in love with would finally open.  She would find herself nestled in his soft bed or on a comfortable couch with warm tea at her side... but the room wouldn't be at all familiar to her spinning head, his face even less so.  She would be startled, frightened even...  She would want to leave -- something that he wouldn't have expected...  He would have thought that she'd recognize him, he her Hatter and she his Alice... and so he would be forced to try and quell her confusion while stifling his own...

location ◦ Down the rabbit hole to Wonderland...
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Mad Hatter for this story. Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ What is afflicting the Hatter I leave up to the person I'm writing this with, be it some form of madness or a Wonderland as real as what we live and breathe.  However, if it is decided that Wonderland is something more than just a product of a man's delusional madness, we will need to discuss where this leaves his Alice.  Can she really get them home, or has he backed himself into a corner, thinking that she can do something that's impossible for her?  And how would she ever make him believe her if that's the case?

[VivifiedVanity]

Original Pairing ◦ Science Fiction, Modern Day/Futuristic

Though this story was based loosely on the upcoming game Detroit: Becoming Human, there is little that you need to know about the game itself, because the story isn’t intended to have anything to do with it.  It was this trailer and this screenshot that inspired this idea, nothing more.  I’m not looking for a fan-based story, nor am I looking for a story set in a pre-established world... I am merely looking for something that tackles the moral dilemma of when something stops being a machine and starts becoming human.

   

the desired pairing ◦ damaged biomechanical humanoid x the daughter of a technician
story title ◦ Artificial Heart
possible content ◦ Benevolent Kidnapping.  Clothed or Dry Sex.  Dubious Consent.  Reluctance Leading to Begging.  Possible Virginity.  Managing Desire, Arousal, and Every Other Emotion for the First Time.  Touch-Starved.  Vibrating Anatomy.

scenario ◦ What I’m looking for is a world where biomechanical humanoids have been on the market for a few decades, and the latest models have developed to the point of being almost indistinguishable from mankind.  They’re a highly advanced form of technology -- a computer with arms and legs, an android that not only effortlessly blends in with the workforce but has made itself a fixture and every home, and they can do almost anything, follow any directive, from looking after the house to minding the kids... to serving as sexual partners.  For those that can afford them, they are no different from a smartphone -- a helpful tool for daily life, and society has become complacent with them over the short span of their existence in the mainstream.

For every individual who is still uneasy around a machine with such a human visage or who argues for its humanity, four more are willing to shell out the money for the latest model as soon as it’s released to the public, because it’s only a machine -- a thing to kept or traded in at the owner's discretion.

They weren’t designed to feel emotion or have a will of their own -- or that was the reassurance the marketing fed the public, and it held true long enough for them to become a staple in the world, but with every firmware upgrade the machines inched closer and closer to becoming something more...

It wasn’t until the problem became more widespread that people finally started to take notice -- the behavioural flaws, the nonstandard responses...

Unable to determine the source of the problem, or more importantly how to repair it, the defective models were recalled when they were found, taken apart, and ultimately destroyed, the official statement being that it was simply a design flaw, a minor glitch in the standard programming.

location ◦ A world that has developed machines that look as humans and the moral dilemmas that follow, be it ours or another.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a damaged biomechanical humanoid for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Short-term fading to something possibly long-term...

other details ◦ Though the details can be discussed, the basic outline of what I have in mind is that one of the defective models somehow manages to escape destruction, possibly even going so far as to fight its way to freedom, and somehow, someway, he’d become damaged in the process.  Unable to repair himself either because of the severity of the damage or because he’d lack the required tools, he’d be forced to head somewhere that could fix him -- somewhere familiar to him, somewhere that has the necessary equipment for the procedure on hand...  The little repair shop downtown.

He’d have been there before, for upgrades or minor fixes -- he'd know the face of the owner, a good man though set in his ways, so he'd arrive with a gun, the cartridge empty though, and he'd make his demands, intending to leave as soon as it was done and over.

Though upon his arrival, the man wouldn't be home.  He'd be away for the weekend, this or that having taken him away -- but the shop wouldn't be empty, the man's daughter would be there.  She'd lack the training for anything beyond basic upgrades, her passions in life having led her far from her father's footsteps, but desperate times sometimes call for desperate measures, and she'd at least know how to operate the equipment...

[VivifiedVanity]

The Strain ◦ The Fall ◦ The Night Eternal

With Dutch being a made-for-tv character, I’d like to base this story more on the television series than the novels.  I feel that the character development is much stronger there, and even though I read the books and loved them, they disappointed me over and over again by not letting Fet, Quinlan, and Setrakian work and grump together, whereas the television series has gone above and beyond in that department.  <3  That being said, I wouldn’t mind erasing the episode “Dead End” from Dutch’s backstory, because of several reasons I won’t go into here.

If we decide to leave in what happened to Dutch, she’d probably be a little hesitant to warm up to Quinlan, maybe even a bit put off by him at first, whereas if we decide to omit it, I can easily see her being inquisitive and kittenish with him once she’s figured out that he’s not dangerous to her.  If there’s a preference on this, I’m comfortable with either option, but if there isn’t, I’d prefer to leave it out...

   

the desired pairing ◦ Quintus Sertorius, Quinlan, Mr. Q x Dutch Velders
story title ◦ The Longest Night, the Darkest Day
possible content ◦ Clothed or Dry Sex.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Verbal Foreplay.  Heavy Seduction.  Begging.  Light Bondage.  Rough Fingers.  Touch-Starved.

scenario ◦ Quinlan is a dated figure with a history that stretches back for thousands of years, encompassing the rise and fall of empires, the armies he’s led, and the wars that he’s been a part of.  He’s the most dangerous member of the Strain’s rag-tag band of heroes, and yet... we’ve never seen him behind the wheel of a vehicle.  It’s a small detail that I’ve probably looked too far into, but it’s made me rather fond of the idea that he’s never bothered to learn how to drive... amongst many other things involved with the modern day.  He navigates the digital age well enough all on his own, but the possible handicaps that go hand-in-hand with being a man out of time, however small, are what made me want to throw him in with Dutch.

He’s the vampire who believes in monsters and is halfway one of them, while she’s the modern girl watching her world be ripped out from under her by those nightmares made flesh, and somehow, someway, I would like for Quintus Sertorius to find her, either by design or unintentional blunder.

Maybe he finds her barricaded in her apartment, terrified, alone, and doing her best to avoid the notice of several whatever-the-hell-those things are.  Dispatching them for her, he’d take a moment to talk with her through the door, maybe sharing a bit on how to defend herself, and Dutch, ever the bright individual, would recognise him as someone who knows what’s going on.  In an attempt to get more answers out of him, she’d tear down her barricade and follow him, the situation becoming a bit more complicated once she finally has a look at him.  ...Or he could be there because he was looking for her specifically, her name turning up as the one responsible for bringing down public access to the internet.  A gift from the Ancients.

Another possible direction is for her to bump into him while she’s out foraging for food and supplies.  He could show up just in time to save her from several Strigoi, and one or two bullets and several dead Strigoi later -- all by his hand -- he’d have her gun and a terrified Dutch on his hands.

location ◦ Borough of Manhattan.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Quintus/Quinlan for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ While there’s never been a definite answer for this, I’m of the firm belief that the Born is well-equipped for bedding the object of his desire.  Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe it’s just wistful thinking on my part, but I’m not looking for stories that don’t run the risk of things becoming impassioned and desperate between Dutch and the Born.  That might even be something that she would become curious about...  A bit of training gets too heated, bodies get a bit too close, and suddenly she’s wondering what the Born has hidden inside his trousers...

To be frank, I’m looking for tension and frustration between these two.  Quinlan has seen the world at its worst, and so he’s become pragmatically hardened to it, whereas Dutch lets herself be led freely by her heart, even going so far as to leap out of a vehicle to save three strangers.

I want for their differences to become a problem, something that they would go round and round over until that mounting frustration finally boiled over, leaving them little more than a breathless tangle of tired limbs...

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Dutch met the Born for the first time in the episode “Collaborators”, and I’m very interested in exploring that initial reaction a little further, nevermind the sound that Quinlan made when he stepped over to look her over...  I’ve been excited about having those two on screen together since we first met Quinlan, and “Collaborators” didn’t disappoint me in that department save for the briefness of their little adventure... that’s why I want to lengthen it into something that spans a few days.  It wouldn’t take much to have Eph stay at home instead of making the trek with them, and were they to become stranded or lost for some reason, they might find themselves outside the line of safety for the night with little choice but to hole up somewhere instead of risking the danger of travelling after dark.

They would be in for a long night of little more than waiting and talking, and Dutch having the booze that Eph found at the airport all to herself would undoubtedly help to drum up some interesting conversation from her side of things...

There’s also the option the take things up mid-season-three shortly after Dutch met the Born for the first time.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

The option is always there to do a story where Dutch is the one who saves Quinlan, but if I’m honest, I have no idea how or why he’d need saving outside of the handful of instances it’s happened in the story.  If Dutch found him unconscious somewhere, either hurt or merely knocked out, I’d like to think that she wouldn’t have it in her to dispose of him...  Maybe because it’s still too early for her to have a real grasp of what’s going on with people, or because she has the experience to notice that he’s somehow different from the other Strigoi roaming around indiscriminately feeding...

If she stumbled into him close enough to ‘home’, be that her apartment or somewhere else, she probably wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she left him to the mercy of whomever happened upon him after her, which would leave her with little choice but to figure out how to drag him home with her.

She’d store him on her bed or in a quiet room, somewhere where he could sleep off whatever had happened to him, though ever the clever the girl, the blanket that she’d give him would be paired with a set of restraints, possibly even a muzzle just in case...  The discussion that would follow his return to the waking world would be an interesting one...

Dutch would have questions, and it would be up to the Born to reassure her that he means no harm...

Or we could do something where Dutch is the one who saves Quinlan somehow.

[VivifiedVanity]

The Hobbit ◦ The Battle of the Five Armies

First and foremost, while I have read the books, it was a really, really, really long time ago, and yes, that does include the dreaded Silmarillion.  However, I hardly remember anything from them outside of a handful of scenes, and although the books were wonderful overall, the reading itself was so terribly dry that I had a difficult time staying with it.  I don't want to go back to that.  Thus, what I'm looking for is something based primarily on the films with only small references to the material in the books.  Those references would be used to flesh out what little we saw of Tolkien's world on the big screen when and where we feel it's needed, because our focus would be on the characters.  If we're still on the same page, then please, continue onward.  c:

   

the desired pairing ◦ Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm x Arwen Undómiel, the Lady of Rivendell
story title ◦ The Depth of Winter
possible content ◦ First Times.  Possible Reluctance.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Someone Who’s Forgotten What it Feels Like.  Mild Possessiveness.  Confusing One Person for Another.

scenario ◦ What I'm looking for by pairing Thranduil and Arwen up is for Thranduil's dispassionate presence to be set alongside someone who is soft and wise with the warmth that she offers.  The wood elves of Mirkwood would be used to their king’s moods and how best to weather him in all of his glory, but with that level familiarity always follows a small measure of apathy towards nuances that would otherwise be difficult to miss.

Over time they start to fade into the background and are dismissed as unimportant, blending in with the rest of the tableau to better mould it into only what one would expect to see.  To those of Mirkwood their view of their king would no longer be pliable; it would be hard and brittle, unyielding to even the most observant of wood elves... but to Lady Arwen...  His would be a new face for her, familiar by name only, and thus her bright eyes would be opened wide where the eyes of others have long since fallen shut.  She would see the old nuances bleeding through the cracks of the wall he’d built around himself over the long years, and it would make her wonder at what’s hidden behind it.  Her presence would soothe Thranduil’s moodiness and his temper; she would be the quiet to his storm, and possibly the sweetness that starts to draw out the long dormant passion in him.

Passion that would burn all the brighter if his deceased wife were to have had the same raven hair as the Lady of Rivendell...  The two would have a passing resemblance only, and though it would forever be fleeting, it would be enough to tug his heartstrings just so, reminding him that they’re still vulnerable to the dangerous pull towards another...  What ideas that I have for them are outlined below, but I am also open to discussing alternatives.  Nothing is set in stone.

location ◦ From Rivendell, the Last Homely House East of the Sea, to Mirkwood, the Woodland Realm.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Thranduil for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ While this detail probably won't affect anything in our story because of the timeline, I feel it's still important because of those involved: this would have to be a story where Aragorn and Arwen would never fall in love.  I don't have the heart to rip these two apart, and besides, I doubt that Arwen would survive the heartbreak.  I feel that she would wither and fade were she forced into it by some means, however gently, as she would never willingly let herself be parted from her Aragorn.  This is not to imply that the story cannot be dark, but that I'd rather have it be done through a different method...

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

The Woodland Realm’s losses were devastatingly heavy during the Battle of the Five Armies, and no one would have felt them more intensely than the one who had led them into that misery.  Their King would be both angered and distraught with all that had been lost that day, and it would be enough to drive him to ride hard for Rivendell instead of returning home with his people.  His visit would be an unexpected occurrence, the number of guards accompanying him few, and the reason for his tireless journey would be a search for answers... Thorin and his company of thirteen had marched into the Woodland Realm bearing elvish swords not seen in the world since the times of old, and when questioned, the dwarven prince had claimed those ancient weapons to have been a gift.  Thorin’s answer had been heard as little more than a lie when it had first been spoken, but the weight of its truth would have been felt sharply by the quick mind of the Woodland King when Mithrandir had first appeared at the Lonely Mountain.  Mithrandir, who had tried so desperately to warn them that Dol Guldur was preparing to empty itself out onto the battlefield, its army of orcs intending to leave only death and sorrow in their wake...

Mithrandir, who was a close friend to both the Lady of Lórien and the Lord of Rivendell, two figures well-known amongst all of those fair and wise within Middle Earth to be ever worried over the situation just south of the Woodland Realm...

Thranduil would be angry that something so dangerous had been festering so close to his borders.  He would be livid that neither Lord Elrond nor the Lady Galadriel had bothered to send him even a whisper about what was thought to be brewing, for if they had, he wouldn't have brought his army out onto the battlefield to deal with a lost company of thirteen dwarves and one hobbit holed up within a Lonely Mountain.

Not even for something as precious to him as the starlight intended for his late wife...  Starlight that she was never able to wear...

But they didn't... and upon Thranduil’s unannounced arrival in Rivendell, its lord would be nowhere to be found, for Lord Elrond wouldn't have yet returned from the White Council's journey into Dol Guldur.  Following that foray into darkness, he would have traveled home with the Lady of Lórien to better tended to her while she mended, which would have further prolonged his absence...  This would leave Thranduil with only the Lady Arwen to speak with about his frustrations, for he would be unwilling to be turned away before being heard, and she would have little choice but to try to soothe him and his worries as best she could, hoping to settle his mood before her father finally returned to them...

There's the option to do something immediately following the events of the Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies, and it's one that I’m very fond of.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Where the realms of Lothlórien and Rivendell have always been very dear to one another, Mirkwood has always been nothing more than a distant neighbor, strange and withdrawn from the world... But when Thranduil suffers a brush with dragon’s fire and lies dying, that distance would be all but forgotten. A master of healing, the Lord of Rivendell would be beckoned to Mirkwood to tend to its king and any others afflicted by that dreadful flame, and he would depart immediately, bringing with him only a daughter raised beneath his tutelage and a few others trained well in the healing arts.

Once there, Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen would find themselves faced with a Thranduil overwhelmed by pain, and the Lord of Rivendell would do what he could to try to ease the Woodland King into sleeping through the worst of it, but sleep would elude him, resisting even against the heaviest of magical remedies. It wouldn’t be until the Lady Arwen’s quiet patience and tender hands offered to lull him to sleep that exhaustion would finally set in on him, drowning him with the small reprieve of that brief oblivion... until he awoke... and when he did, it would Arwen that the often ill-tempered king would first remember, her dark hair and porcelain skin dredging forth memories of a love that had been lost to him...

Roused and restless, Thranduil's mood would be made more irritable by what pain still lingered with him, nevermind the permanence of his new countenance; blind in one eye, horribly scarred, and his injuries far too fresh to be hidden away by anything save for carefully wrapped bandages...

And he would have the Lady of Rivendell still to deal with, someone whom he would have only had formal introductions with years ago -- maybe due to a decision he made to maintain a safe distance from her... His home would be both horrifying and enthralling to her, for where her world is bright and airy with starlight moving freely between the trees, Thranduil and his kin have burrowed deep beneath the earth, building themselves a wooded labyrinth that would far outdo anything she's seen before... She would be left feeling tense and uneasy by it, and though Thranduil would sense her discomfort and wish to hurry her on her way... some long, dormant part of him would desire to have her stay...

The other idea that I have is less fire and brimstone between Thranduil and Arwen, but it does follow an ill-fated brush with dragon fire.

   

the desired pairing ◦ Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm x Tauriel, the Captain of the Guard
story title ◦ Weathering the Storm
possible content ◦ Reluctance Leading to Begging.  Sexual Surrogacy.  Learning and Inexperience.  Comfort Intimacy.  Risk of Being Discovered.  Role Reversal.  First Times.

scenario ◦ What I would love to do with this story is to take things up from the ending of the Battle of the Five Armies and where it left Thranduil and Tauriel, because I feel like the film set the perfect emotional stage for these two.  Battered, bruised, and heartbroken, Tauriel would be relieved of her duties as Captain of the Guard and brought back to the Woodland Realm to mend, but it wouldn’t be her body with the most grieves of injuries.  It would be her heart.  Loss and the heartache that follows it are felt strongly enough by the fair folk to be more dangerous to them than any blade; fair immortals that can fade away from a heart too broken to keep beating...  Though her love for the dwarf was no more than the budding of a romance, it was no less real for her.  Tauriel would be suffering, and Thranduil would be familiar with that pain, because he experienced it when he lost his wife centuries ago.  That’s why Tauriel saw his tears...

And with Legolas gone from the Woodland Realm, Thranduil would have nothing left but her...  He would become protective of her, maybe even overly so...  He would cling to the only thing that he had left, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that she lived...

She, who was nothing but fire and passion until she found herself drowning in the sorrow of her loss and left barren in the wake of the emotions she'd been stripped of.  Eventually though, they would start to seep back into her world.  Frustration, agony, grief, anger, and confusion -- all of which flooding in to point themselves sharply at the person who'd taken on the responsibility of trying protect her from herself...

location ◦ Mirkwood, the Woodland Realm.
requirements ◦ I’m looking for a Thranduil for this story.  Be sure to read my ons/offs before messaging me.
length ◦ Long-term, short-term, or a little bit of both...

other details ◦ I want to see where these two would end up when left alone together -- her fire and passion pressed against his cold indifference and ill-temper.  I want to see the two of them take their frustrations out on one another -- something bruising and desperate.  She would want for him to show her what it would have felt like to be with someone -- what it would have felt like to be with the one she's lost, and after so many centuries of being alone following the death of his wife... he would be practically begging for relief once his desires were sparked again.  And even more, I want to see what the two of them do with one another in the wreckage that follows that thoughtless night where they briefly lost themselves on one another -- when they're finally forced to face the tension burning between them hot enough to be dangerous.  The once hardened king and protector... and his ardent ward and captain.

[VivifiedVanity]

Original/Fanbased/Miscellaneous Pairings and Other Things

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Tasteful Erotica.  When I first started writing and roleplaying online, tasteful erotica had a home in my writing.  It melded itself in with the story and character development both directly and indirectly and was a large part of why I fell in love with the hobby as fervently as I did, but... for a number of years it’s been absent from my stories.  I miss it.  I miss it terribly.  I miss it to the point that my desire to write is suffering horribly for it.  I desperately want my stories to involve the subject again, be it from characters that barely resist throwing one another against the wall and finding their relief then and there... to those that are unable to resist the maddening desire between them. Devil’s Threesome, Ménage à Trois, MFM.  The pairings that I have in mind for this are all fan-based, but I’m more than open to suggestions for original pairings. Victorian Era/Modern Day ◦ (m) the dark Fae trying to blend in to society x (f) the maiden who offers him a hand without knowing what he is Victorian Era ◦ (m) the lord of one of the Faerie Courts x (f) the human maiden whose bedroom mirror he shares Victorian Era ◦ (m) the dark Fae who once required half a life for a magical feat x (f) the maiden whose life he was promised Victorian Era/Dark Fantasy ◦ (m) vampire addicted to Fae blood x (f) a Fae from the Seelie/Summer Court Victorian Era ◦ (m) vampire lord x (f) the fair maiden he finds lost in the snow during a winter storm Victorian Era ◦ (m) the vampire lord trying desperately to resist his mortal ward x (f) his young ward, an innocent trying to tempt him into taking her Victorian Era ◦ (m) vampire lord x (f) the human maiden betrothed to him Victorian Era/Modern Day ◦ (m) vampire lord in hiding x (f) the human who unwittingly discovers what he is Modern Day/Futuristic ◦ (m) the latest biomechanical humanoid on the market x (f) the reluctant new owner of the machine

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[VivifiedVanity]

Visuals for Mood and Inspiration

[VivifiedVanity]

latest addition:  'The Longest Night, the Darkest Day' ◦ Dutch Velders x Quinlan

[VivifiedVanity]

latest addition: revamp of the miscellaneous section w/ additional pairings added regarding Fae

[VivifiedVanity]

latest addition:  'Artificial Heart' ◦ damaged biomechanical humanoid x the daughter of a technician