↣ Black ↣ Dark Psychological MxF plots

[French Toast Ghost]

Hi! Hey! Hello! Bonjour! Welcome my search thread, I hope I can offer what you are looking for!
If not, then I truly with you the best of luck finding your perfect partner! You can do it, I believe in you!

Just one thing; Please for the love of toast, don't ask me to go to your search thread. It takes me hours to make this, I don't want it to be for nothing.

ROLE-PLAY SLOTS:
1/ Taken
2/ Open
3/ Open
4/ Open

So let's start with a little wee bit about myself, oui?


↣ Call me Ghost! Ghosty! 'Hey you over there'  -Whatever floats your toast!

↣ I play females as mains and double as both non-romantic males and Females.

↣ Please say hello to me. If you aren't bothered to even say hello when you message me,
    this will not work. I'm a person too, not a rp robot and I want to make fiends.

↣ Please understand that my women are not submissive unless the plot specifically calls for it.
    I truly dislike defenceless women; mine have a spine and they will not let themselves be
    pushed around without giving a good shove back. ...with a brick.

↣ I am not my characters, you are not yours; Please do not pm me sexual messages.
   That is just inappropriate.

↣ I do not take part in 100% SMUT oriented role-plays. I need it to be story oriented-
   Smut is fine but it can't be the be all, end all.
   My characters are also not privy to instant romances.

↣ I love casual conversation with partners or otherwise, so send me a pm to say hi! Do it!
    Conversation is a must for me. I really want to get to know my partners! let's plot,
   fangirl(boy?) over the rp, our characters- the hell they are getting into! I love chatting!

↣ I'm an adult, no need for my specific age, we aren't getting married just yet. Just so you
    know I'm in my mid' 20s.

↣ I'm Irish, spending summer in France and am an avid muncher of all things sweet and delicious.
    You will literally always find me with tea in hand or in the process of brewing some!

↣ I love platypus, they are duck puppies and need all the love in the world. That's all.



Now onto What I have to offer:


↣  First off, I exclusively play female roles as my mains but will use non-romantically involved men and women as secondary characters.
I will happily double and use side-characters to further the plot, creative some diversity and I can promise that I will keep the world vibrant through multiple
background characters, twists and events.

Secondly; My women are tender. My women are cold. My women are badass. My women are bold- you will not get the same character twice and depending on the
setting they will come with their own quirks and flaws. They are people, they can have good days, bad days, lovey-dovey days and tantrums. They can be naïve,
cynical or anything in between.

Please do not come into this expecting a Mary Sue with no flaws and a defenceless demeanour. You won’t find that here.


↣  How much do I write? Here you go my lovelies, please take note that this is generally a starters length for me. Please don't let it
intimidate you. Im not here to shame you, because you being here already means you are taking initiative to write, and that is a ridiculously wonderful thing!
However, please be honest and considerate towards me when you approach me for a role-play; if I give you the following and receive only four
paragraphs back, I will be disappointed and disheartened. Please don't do that to me. Please.

"Sample Posts"

“She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she could get away without being seen”
Alice in wonderland, chapter 9



Shapes and shadows rippled across her distorted vision.
Through eyes clenched shut and trembling fingers covering her face she could still feel them. They were there.
They were always there. Watching. Waiting.

A merciless glacial wind beat down upon her huddled body in the murk, like thousands of fiery needles piercing her skin relentlessly, lathering her in their sadistic embrace. Under her pale shivering form, her feet were going numb, her knees aching from kneeling on them for too long, but not daring to move so much as a muscle. She couldn’t. If she did, they would see, they would come for her. Their snatching, bony little hands had dragged her into the darkness and left her there in this place beyond help. The pitch had swallowed her whole, but she knew that somewhere out there, just ever beyond the limits of her sight they were ready, eagerly waiting for a pretext. Just a moment’s hesitation, one wrong move and they’d be upon her like a thousand starving rats.

She could feel their hungry eyes in the dark. Her lungs burned, she needed to breathe. How long had it been since she drawn breath? Her eyes watered in agony, her fingernails digging into her face in protest. But her mouth opened nonetheless and as their crooked carcasses rushed towards her, she echoed a silent scream.
Their eyes.
Oh god their eyes. They were-


“So, which class are you taking?”
Dark eyes snapped open to meet a pair of baby blues staring back at her in anticipation.
Shrill was the voice that broke through her trance, causing her to take in a sharp breath that she had been holding for so uncomfortably long that her lungs had protested painfully. The interruption had come from a young woman standing far too close to her and it took only that one moment to understand that she was the epitome of ostentatiousness.

At first glance, it was the very short fully golden V-neck dress that bordered on mustard in colour which caught attention, willing or not. The fabric was synthetic with a plastic shine and it clung to her form like clingfilm, so much so that it only just covered her behind by a few centimetres. To be fair though she had to admit the girl had a very nice rump, one worthy of a wolf whistle! Her bosom was almost completely on display as large necklace made of multiple layers of pearls hung down the front of her exposed chest. Platform heels added a good ten centimetres to her height, but there was a clear wobble as she walked. After a few glasses of champagne, they would either have a miracle on their hands or an accident waiting to happen.

Her auburn dyed hair was let loose, but its movement was restricted by the staleness of one too many puffs of hair spray. Her eyes were very pretty though, a clear oceanic blue that gleamed with curiosity as they watched her current prey. Clearly, she was all ears for a reply that so far had taken its time coming.

“I’m very sorry but whatever do you mean?” was all the older woman could muster under such abrupt circumstances, confused by the intention of this girl.

A thin tanned arm snaked its way through hers, holding on with a vice grip that she had seen some students use before.
“Oh, don’t play coy!, cooed the girl nasally as she lightly tapped Nur’s nose, Cillian, he’s that smug looking guy over there, he bet a hundred quid that you are definitely a physics nerd but I’m convinced you look more like a English literature or creative writing type! So, which is it? Oh, I’m Kelsea by the way!”

Did she just assume I was a student?
Nur blinked in bewilderment.
Wait, did she just... Did she boop my fricking nose?

“I’m afraid to disappoint you but neither of you will be winning that bet. Mind you, flattery won’t get you any better grades.” Purred Nur with a cheeky smirk tugging at her lips, looking like a cat that got the canary.
This brazen dismissal of all possibilities seemed to click into place in Kelsea’s head, her mouth swiftly hanging agape as the realisation dawned on her.
“Wait, you’re not a…?”
“I’ll take it as a compliment, chuckled the elder of the two softly in a voice like warm milk, I’m Nur (Noor) Nevhelem, professor of psychology, a pleasure to meet you Kelsea.”

She held out her hand politely and humbly, so that the girl could do something with her own hands beyond waving them around frantically. She knew what it was like to make that kind of mistake- She’d once asked her boyfriend’s sister if she was his mother upon meeting her. How well that had gone down! As one might imagine that relationship didn’t last long.
Frankly, it wasn’t surprising in the least that Kelsea and her companions had misunderstood. Nur was not the kind of woman to look her age and her grace as she moved about the open air of the terrace, although telling of years’ experience, did not betray her.

Irises as dark as the deepest oceans, a depth beyond light and rescue, her gaze lathered you with a wicked and sensual embrace. Those eyes could eat you alive, make you want to drown you in them. Many wouldn’t mind the thought of it, previous men certainly didn’t use to. Those deep-set eyes were right above a small perky nose and rosy, plump, luscious lips which she kept well hydrated, so they always looked just right for a quick taste. On this occasion they were decorated in a deep shade of red lipstick. A few freckles doted her soft caramel skin, like powdered cinnamon had been sprinkled over her. She used to hate them as a child thinking they made her ugly and constantly being teased for them. Now she found they gave her a charm many others didn’t possess, so that when she smiled her entire face lit up.

Her hair was akin to strands of soft chocolate rivers of silk flowing down her back and getting caught in her mouth when the wind blew. It was so soft that when she was worried, she would run it through her fingers, an unconscious action that had come to be over many years. She was tall enough standing at 1.70 meters, but she could never have been a model by any standards. Sporting an hourglass frame, her waist may have been small but her hips for a start were too wide, her thighs like thunder and breasts little over a c-cup would never fit into small clothes. No, certainly not a model, but damn well pleased with herself none the less. Or at least she used to be.

Carolina Tustano, an Italian woman of no small size was present at the meet up tonight, she could see her form the corner of her eye. They had met a long ago when they worked together as specialist teachers in their fields. Carolina’s specialty happened to be business orientated, working with the stock market and houses. And she was damn good at it.

It had been her who had convinced Nur to come back into teaching, albeit after a decade of persuading. In her eyes it was better late than never. Carolina was a bubbly and kind woman, always willing to lend or force a helping hand. She had stuck by Nur through thick and thin, had been an irreplaceable friend to her. However, when she had discovered that it was her friend’s intention to present herself here in a pencil skirt and plain white business shirt, she had flipped her proverbial shit. When the fat lady sings does the conclusion become clear. When the fat lady screams- You damn well give her whatever she wants.

And that was exactly what Nur had done for fear of being dragged by the scruff of her neck. The result of her wardrobe was not quite what she had expected.
Long and flowing was the sleeveless crimson dress she wore, made of such a sheer fabric that the breeze swayed it around almost purposefully. With a V-neck that exposed more cleavage that she had been comfortable with, it made her want to check every minute or two that nothing was popping out where it shouldn’t be. Carolina had swatted her hand a few times too, told her to stop fussing about and that she looked fine. She wore black stilettos only a few centimetres tall, but that was enough to give her legs a curve that would give a geometrist a run for their money, especially since one of her legs was visible through a long slit in the dress side as she walked. Initially she had been worried she’d appear too flashy, but now she thanked her lucky stars for Carolina, who had spared her sticking out like a sore thumb. When she had walked out of the restaurant doors and onto the terrace when the majority of people had agglomerated, it had felt like everything stopped. She was vain enough to tell herself that all eyes were on her, that would be absurd, but a good few conversations hung still in the air as she emerged. Only a madman would have assumed that Nur Nevhelem was a 32-year-old teacher.

“Oh my gosh.”
Kelsea seemed to be having trouble breathing in her newly found panic.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so totally sorry! I thought- Well, we thought…, the young woman gushed as her pretty face began to be stained like a tomato to match the red carpet, You know what, I’m just going to leave you to it! G-goodnight.”

Nur couldn’t help but chuckle watching the girl wobble back over to her friends in a hurry, all of who seemed confused and worried as to what had happened. When she got there, Kelsea hid her face in her hands, stomping her feet lightly, before Nur heard a male voice distinctly cry out, “No fucking way!?”

“Well if that wasn’t worth coming here to see, I don’t what is!”
A booming laugh came from her side, Carolina draped her arm around Nur’s slender shoulders amicably. More a moment they giggled about what had just happened, Carolina professing that in another life she ought to have been a stylist. Mirthfully they had walked towards where the bulk of the students and teachers stood talking and drinking away as they were all introducing themselves. It wasn’t a big group, there were only 12 students in this specialist academy after all, and five tutors. They were all having a relatively pleasant time, despite the constant bragging thrown about, until something caught her attention- or someone.

Across the way were dark eyes, almost impossibly darker than her own; A man standing in the crowd, eyes like a beast’s. With wavy hair that seemed way too perfect to be natural and dark full eyebrows, everything but his beard was on point. His face though, he was undeniably ruggedly handsome and with a body build like a brick house, she could already tell from far away that he would tower over her. There was something else though, a strange smile on his lips. Something inside her squirmed in disdain.

Nur turned away from the stranger. His gaze was too much, too overpowering to meet for tonight at least. She silently hoped he wouldn’t be in her class and decided to belligerently apply herself back into the conversation about who had what type of Lamborghini, which was causing laughter, uproar and competition.
Except then, as quickly as it had started, it wasn’t.

Everything was quiet. The world seemed to slow down; her body too heavy for her to move from her spot. Something was wrong though she did not know what, and her heart began to pound once again.
Their eyes- They were all staring right at her. Feeling herself turn deathly pale she turned to look at Carolina for comfort, who to her dismay was staring at her oddly too. Was there something on her face? Had she stepped on someone’s feet?
“What is it?” She questioned, almost so quietly that the words didn’t escape her lips.

“We have something for you. Won’t you open it?”
Nur felt a rough texture between her delicate fingers. It hadn’t been there just a moment ago, she was sure of it. How had it… what was it? Cardboard? Paper? Somewhere in the back of her mind a part of her screamed as she brought her hand up to her face, perhaps knowing what she was going to see. She almost puked.
A small red envelope wrapped with string; her name scribbled on the front in a child’s imperfect handwriting. A small heart followed with the name of the sender-
Oh god.

Nur dropped it like the very touch of it had just burned her hand like grasping a hot poker. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out, not even her breath was able to escape. She was choking again, a darkness forcing its way down her throat like cobwebs refusing to let her exhale.
Thought we would forget didn’t you, came Carolina’s sickly sweet voice.

They advanced upon her, their eyes boring into hers with disgust and accusation. Her legs wouldn’t move, her feet stuck to the ground beneath her, the nightmarish scene grew darker as the light on the terrace turned off one by one.
God no. No. No! No!!
You can’t run forever. We’ve reached the end of the road.




“Miss!” Came a loud voice, a male voice from nearby.

Nur shot up in the back of the taxi, eyes wide with irrational fear and hyperventilating like she had just run a marathon. She was safe, she could breathe- This was real wasn’t it? For a moment her eyes darted around, looking for the slightest clue of imperfection that you might find in a dream, but none were to be found. Slowly she remembered the meet and greet- It had been last night. Memories came flooding back to her in waves, the slumber being washed away from her panicked mind. No wonder the nightmare had managed to fool her, usually she was good at spotting when she was having one, but most of it was a memory this time, until the very end at least.
Oh, thank god. Thank god, it was just a nightmare.

“Miss? You alright? Questioned the cab driver worriedly as he turned in his seat to look at her, I said we’ve arrived at the end of the road, can’t get past the gates from here. Are you okay walking?”

Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, beads of cold sweat dripping down the back of her neck with every shaky breath.

Shit, she internally breathed, Of all the days for this to happen…

“Yes, I’m fine thank you.” She blurted, pushing herself up straight in the seat, hand instinctively running her soft locks through her fingers to calm herself down, just startled me awake that’s all.”

She didn’t say much after that as she opened her door and stepped out and although it seemed he didn’t quit buy the bullshit story; he didn’t pry. With a huff he simply got her bags out of the boot of the cab, accepted the tip she gave him and drove off on his way.

It took a second for her to compose herself, letting the dearly needed sunlight warm her face before grabbing her bags. When she turned on her heels, she finally saw the villa and it was simply ridiculous.

Behind thick silver gates, which opened as she pressed her passkey to the locking system, in the middle of perfectly tended gardens of green grass, palm trees and various flowers was a state-of-the-art luxury home. Completely modern with many walls being entirely replaced by windows, a ten meter partially glass pool, jacuzzi and terrace lounge with couches- To be honest she felt a little disgusted with the filthy rich people who could afford this kind of life.

"Well, might as well enjoy it while it lasts!" She chirped gleefully as her previous horror made way for childish curiosity pulling her bags up the steps towards the door. She was a lucky bugger too- Most of the more affluent people wouldn’t be arsed to get up as early as she had. The study rooms for each teacher had already been allocated, but as far as the rooms went it was first come first serve, something she intended to make full use of!

Entering the house was strange, to say the least. Everything was so… chic! So modern and sculpted. Of course, it was beautiful, but It felt fake and synthetic. Not like the homey little cottage she had back home.

The main door opened up into a wide-open living room area, a huge glass walls directly opposite her, showing yet another pool on the other side of the home, this time enclosed.

"Who needs two pools? Nur quipped out loud, Jesus people!"

In the same room, sperate by a counter and eating area, was the kitchen with all the newest of... well everything. Craning her neck, she could see into the room around the corner, which was styled far differently. Fitted with a fire place on one side and surrounded by sofas it had a cosier vibe she could definitely get used to.

There was a staircase to one side, the bedrooms and studies were upstairs or so they had been told. Eager to see what they were like, she hurriedly pulled her bags behind her, wishing silently that she had packed a little lighter.

The first room she saw as she reached the top a little out of breath, was room 201- her designated study room. And by study she meant a mini luxury classroom for those majoring in psychology. It wasn’t overly big, but it looked glamourous nonetheless, its glass walls allowing her to look over the living room and kitchen area and out into the indoor pool. She’d better not let herself get distracted during teaching hours, seeing people swimming about or whatever high flyers did.

Walking past a few more study rooms for the other 4 professors, she finally reached the bedrooms down the hall and excitedly looked in all of them.

One had a small garden inside, which was cute, but she wasn’t overly fond of because it only had a shower. One had a fully stocked bar- but then again that was not exactly what she needed more of in her life. Carolina would like that though, mused the weary woman. On the third try, she found the room she wanted. Not only did it have a large bath but it faced the front of the house, its outside lounge terrace and outdoor pools. It would be facing East, giving her a natural alarm clock in the sun. That was something she never got in her dark little cottage- sunlight! It had its own little terrace with a small chaise longue and coffee table, finished off with waist high banisters made of wood surrounding it. She opened the sliding glass door and walked out onto it, feeling the fresh air on her face.
Now this she could work it! A book in hand, coffee in the other as she lied back- Oh yes, she could imagine that happily enough.

A sound echoed in the distance, a black Lamborghini approaching down the road. She was surprised to see the others arrive so early but guessed they all had the same idea as she. The first day of their new life under the same roof was about to begin and butterflies were raging in her stomach in excitement.

“Oh, Alice how far you’ve roamed.” She mused.

↣  If you are looking for unexpected twists then by the grace of toast, I'm your ghost! I don't like obvious linear role-plays and will always
try to keep something interesting going on for us to work through!

↣  I describe a lot. A LOT. Like three stacks of  toast full. Yes I've been away on hiatus for a while, so my writing may be a little rusty
   around the edges but I still I love being descriptive. I love showing what my characters are thinking, feeling- Basically I want and aspire to bring the world around
our characters to life! You will NEVERreceive a one liner from me and will most likely receive minimum 6 paragraphs. That I can promise you!


↣  Am I open to sex scenes? Sure, why not! Will it be the focus of our story- No you flea ridden tea bag! Get back into your box!
   I specifically specialise in character and story oriented role-plays. So at the very least you can be sure there will not be a sex scene for a while when the role-play
   starts, at least not with my character.




So what does this ghost hope for in return?

↣  I really find pretty men attractive- Even if they are HUGE in size.
   I don't like overly masculine face claims for some reason. When somebody has the sweetest face but a twisted heart is something that thrills me, I love how it can
   be used to deceive people. I hope that's okay? I've added some M face claims I like just to give you guys/gals an idea of what I mean! : >

↣  I am a thinker. I love subtlety! LOVE IT! GIMME. I far prefer insinuated details to obvious actions. If a character is evil, the subtlety in
   their actions, hints at possible horrors they might have committed are much more appealing than any crazy murdering spree they might go on. Don't show off how
   crazy they are,  show off how crazy they might be.

↣ I have a love for psychologically deep characters of a darker nature- Intelligent dangerous characters who can manipulate peoples own
   instincts and logical thoughts against them. I want screwed up morals and values! I love characters who are divergent and can stand alone without the need to rely
   on others nor a tragic backstory to seem interesting (though if they do have something tragic occur I would LOVE to see the repercussions on their personality due
   to the trauma). I don't want the PG-13 story in which the good guy has to stay good or where the protagonist has to fall for the good guy.  Good people can go bad,
   bad people can turn out good and some man just go insane and need to be culled!
   Only when we role-play will we actually know how things will turn out!

↣ A lot of my plots revolve around unhealthy obsession in one way or another. Yes, I am one of those weird people who enjoy stalkers who sniff
   their character's clothes and other weird possessive fangirl shit. I know, it's weird, been telling myself that for a while now but I can't help it. Don't start judging me! ; - ;

↣ I adore realistic characters. Now I get it, understandably  what is considered 'realistic' will shift depending on wether we are in a sci-fi or slice
   of life role-play. However, I want characters that bleed, have realistic passions, distastes, talents and attitude towards others and life. On the subject of realism, I get
   put off by overly 'intense' characters who swear left, right and centre, break glass with their fists for the hell of it and can take more punches than Chuck Noris. I find
   that makes characters so undeniably strong is the fact that they can get hurt, they do have weaknesses and they die just as easily as any other person if caught off
   guard. However they manage to survive despite it all, time after time against the odds through skill, silver tongues and sometimes sheer dumb luck. Ah beautiful dumb
    luck!

↣ I am a hopeless romantic. Nothing wrong with that! Yet I really despise instant romance-in-a-can and 'smut-like' behaviour in role-plays.
   I don't mean to be arrogant or up my ghostly butt, but here is a tip I've found to really work, sensuality over sexuality. A scene which could be considered
   totally normal can turn incredibly tension-filled and striking if imbued with a little sensuality or a small off-beat action. The same scene may turn smutty and really
   cringe-worthy if imbued with pure sexuality.

↣ I like to use real face claims, sorry but that's my preference.

↣ Now, I don't mean to hurt anybodies feelings, but I love both quality and quantity. I want to read meaty posts with details and sentences jam packed with hidden tidbits
   of information. I want to know what the scenery looks like, what the weather is like, what your character smells and feels beneath their fingertips. I do want to hear about those
subtle little actions that makes your character who and what they are. I want their memories and flashbacks! In the past, I've worried myself half to death over
overwhelming my partner when writing a long answer and thus forced myself cut back on detail that otherwise may have been crucial to my characters' 'feel'. I don't want to do that
   anymore. I don't enjoy holding back and I don't want a partner that feels they have to either. We should enjoy this!
   Constraints are for socks!
   Screw socks!!

↣ I have a love for psychologically deep characters of a darker nature- Intelligent dangerous characters who can manipulate peoples own instincts and logical thoughts against them.
   I want screwed up morals and values! I love characters who are divergent and can stand alone without the need to rely on others nor a tragic backstory to seem interesting (though
   if they do have something tragic occur I would LOVE to see the repercussions on their personality due to the trauma). I don't want the PG-13 story in which the good guy has
   to stay good or where the protagonist has to fall for the good guy.  Good people can go bad, bad people can turn out good and some man just go insane and need to be culled!
   Only when we role-play will we actually know how things will turn out!




  What will I not do?

↣ I won't do pregnancies of any kind, I have tocophobia meaning pregnancy is my phobia! The very idea of pregnancy makes me feel ill so let's please keep that to a minimum.

↣ Anything that goes in the toilet, stays in the toilet.

↣ Please don't bring furries into this. Technically wouldn't that be bestiality and against the rule here anyways?

↣ Vore. Why? Just why?  ; n ;

↣ I will not play a male to your female. Don't bother please!

-PLOTS INCOMING! Uploading Toasty goodness!

[French Toast Ghost]

I'm forever adding more, so check back later if you don't find something now.
For every plot there is a theme song, to help give an idea of the general atmosphere, just click the title!

Current Craving:
Black dog: xxxxx
City of Angel: xx
The Red Bride: xx
A stitch in time: xxx

Not interested in:
Aftermath

Here are the face claims I like to use for my women:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

And the face claims of men I think are attractive:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Black dog
Previous shy guy turned Bully x Bully
Violence, comedy, social ruin

"Don't beat the Black Dog"

She’s a bully.
Or at least that’s what other people might call her.
She’s tall, confident and blooming with charisma- Perhaps too much, as all the praise given to her over the years has gone to her head.
He is tall, dark and unsociable, hiding his face with long bangs and never paying anybody the time of day. The only reason people don’t regularly physically pick on him is because he is so damn bulky. But verbal abuse? Now that’s up for grabs. They’ve been neighbours for years, used to be friends at one point, in fact. She’d left him behind though as she climbed the social ladder when he refused to climb with her and make friends. It didn’t end well.

One day she gets dared during a game of heavily drunken truth or dare to kiss him, the social outcast. Rather than go for truth and admit to her friend she has been sleeping with her boyfriend of a year, little miss bully goes off to do the deed. And do it she does, much to the surprise of the towering outsider. Except, she doesn’t quite count on the repercussions when he suddenly grabs her wrist upon her informing him of the game.

Warning that she is going to regret this, and he is done being played for a fool, he leaves the camp grounds. For a week he is gone and she is left to wonder what became of him, then in his place return someone very different. Tall, dark and handsome is he now, and most definitely not a pushover. He begins taking over the university social hierarchy, and the chaos begins.
( I left this very open so that any plotting can occur, throw ideas at me! )

A stitch in time
Clockwork man x New inheritor
Romance, sweet, tragedy, psychological

"Just like Clockwork"

Her father was never the same after the death of her brother.
Perhaps he had never truly been all there, and this was just a catalyst. Regardless, the surviving daughter, was pushed aside in favour of the
memory of a ghost, left to live on the outskirts of his vision. Her father spent years trying to bring him back in various, ever increasingly
desperate ways. Mediums, two-bit ‘necromancy’ books…
She watched as he fell deeper into madness and delusion, with him ever affirming that he was on the verge of discovering how to create life, to
bring back his child.

She hardly thinks he realised when she left, if at all.
This was the first letter she had received since that day a decade ago, and it was to inform her of his passing. She, the sole heir, was to inherit
the family estate along with all its belongings.

Returning to that empty house was not an easy decision, but it was made with the hopes of selling it and riding herself of its lingering hold on
her past. What she did not expect to find though, was something that would keep her there.

In the depths of the dimly lit cellars is where he lay. Dormant, massive, impossible human and with keyhole indentation carved into his chest, lay
the clockwork man. With a single turn of a key she inadvertently brings this miracle to life, the son her father finally created and an inherited
burden for her to bear.

City of Angels
Sociopathic model x Childhood friend photographer
Betrayal, manipulation, lots of shady dealings, drugs

(Names are not definite, Emmie is just an example.)

"Angel Dust and Cocaine"

Please be aware that this particular plot was intended for a particular or similar male face claim to this, the reason being that they need to have seemed effeminate:

"Using His Beauty as a Weapon"

Emmie.
That’s what Nyrn used to call her childhood friend.

For as long as she could remember, since that day she first approached Emmie who sat all alone in their neighbourhood park, they had been inseparable. Nyrn had been irrevocably enchanted by the beautiful Emmie, with her porcelain skin and long flowing white hair, from the get-go. Compared to herself who was a run of the mill tom-boy, Emma looked like a princess. From the moment the bold and confident little Nyrn had grabbed hold of a tearful childs’ hand and told them matter-of-factly that they were going to be best friends, and that she would be her knight, that was exactly what had happened.

The children were as night and day. While Nyrn had always been a confident  outspoken and brash young girl who delighted in getting into to trouble for the sake of adventure, Emmie was far shyer, a pushover and a crybaby who could always be seen clutching onto Nyrns’ arm like a lifeline. The duo were inseparable, wherever Nyrn went Emmie would not be far behind. They were neighbours, their windows facing each others’ so they could whisper long into the night or, sneakily, climb into the others room and sleep huddled up together. The first time it happened the parents panicked finding one bed empty and one full. The lectures were brutal, but when the two didn’t stop, it became the norm for both families to take turns bringing a child to school in the mornings and back home in the evenings.

Nyrn seemed happy enough to be the prince to her princess Emmie who was so much more suited to the role, but in truth, Nyrn had always been somewhat jealous of Emmie. Unlike her, she had a soft-spoken voice, beautiful pale blond hair and pitch black eyes- They had always been the most beautiful person in Nyrn’s eyes and she made sure Emmie knew it, spending entire hours brushing their hair and pampering them. To Nyrn, none could compare. Nyrn on the other hand, had a mess of hair and freckles, many calling her carrot-top and she didn't see herself as very pretty.

For years, into their early teens, they would never be seen far from the other. Life was good and nobody could tear them apart. Or so they thought.

On their first day of 8th grade at a new school, they were put into two separate classes. At first Emmie cried and protested, wouldn’t let go of Nyrn. But the older girl just comforted Emmie and said that they could see each other at break, in the hallways and at home, everything would be fine. That day they made a promise; Neither this, nor anything or anyone would keep them apart, and should anyone try they would be punished.

Nyrn’s outspokenness earned her many friends, whereas Emmie didn’t even attempt to make any, instead eagerly waiting bell rings to see their counterpart. It was imperceptive at first, but as the weeks dragged on, slowly, but surely, the time reserved for Emmie thinned. Nyrn tried to introduce Emmie to her new friends, but Emmie just.. didn’t care. And then, for the first time, Emmie was told she couldn't sleepover. That night, she witnessed through their window, Nyrn having a sleepover, their tradition, with another girl.  The backlash was immediate, Emmie pounding on the window screaming of how Nyrn could do this.

Tired of the constant shadow and perhaps through childish pride at being told off in front of her new friends, for the first time, Nyrn yelled back.
"It's not my fault you won't make any friends, stop sticking to me and grow some balls!"
The moment the words and left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. But it was too late.
Emmie locked themselves away for days after that, sobs coming from their room, not even opening her blinds for Nyrn who begged for days and offered for Emmie to sleep over.
Eventually Nyrn gave up and stopped asking.
Then came physical education.

“But, you’re a girl?”

All of the evil little children laughed in glee at the innocent girl’s stupidity, as she watched Emmie get called to go workout with the boys. Sure, Emmie had grown lately, Nyrn still hadn’t caught up but that was bound to come soon! Yet, as she looked up at her friends dark eyes, she felt something other than childish friendship. She felt fear. More voices cried out, some mocking her and many more mocking Emmie, taunting them, waiting to see what they would do in response to this (albeit unwilling and unintentional) insult to their masculinity. For all to see, Emmie grabbed her small hand and forced it down onto his crotch where, in her mind, there should have been nothing.
But there was.

The rest was a blur. Amidst the laughing she remembered shrieking, dark hungry eyes staring into hers, wrenching her hand away from a suddenly far stronger, bigger Emmie and running into the teacher’s office in tears. For days she did not resurface from her house, curtains drawn tight to hide herself away. Part of her was waiting for the gentle taps at her window, the typical Emmie sobbing apology. It never came.
Instead came the sound of boyish laughter from next-door and a name she didn't know- Emery.

After this event, Nyrn became jeered, humiliated and cast aside as a naive idiot who couldn't even tell her friend was a boy. Gone was her bravado and courage, seemingly taken by the boy who now lived next door.
Emery seemed to grow cruel as their confidence grew. At nights he would tap on her window as they did once, a condescending smile on his face asking in a voice so sweet if she still wanted him to come over for a sleepover in her bed. Nyrn tried to recover, but the bullying and mockery was too much, the night time sweet whispers from her window chilling her to the bone, forcing her to keep her blinds shut always. As weeks went by she begged her single father to let her change to a boarding school, she would do anything to get away from this.
And in some way, her wish was granted.

Her father had found a new potential wife and employment in London, far far away from that sleepy little town. Naturally through backyard conversations, the neighbours were tipped off about these plans and through the grapevine, Emery was informed. The result was mind-blowing for the parents. Threats, screams, none of the parents had ever seen him like this before. He declared that her father couldn't take Nyrn with him, and when that did not work, begged. When still the father was not swayed, he warned that should the father try to separate them, he would be punished as the two had once promised. As one might expect, the father was not amused and with this added incentive, they moved the next week. On the last night Nyrn could have sworn she heard Emmie whispering oh so softly of their promise.

-12 years later-

Nyrn's father married again, is now a big photographer for a model magazine chain, does a lot of community work with disabled kids- He is a pillar of the community and highly respected by all. Then, a new model comes to town to work for his magazine. One that has been sought after for a very long time. He is an upcoming male model that the world is going crazy for and everybody wants a piece of. Men, women; everybody wants to be him or fuck him. It is an incredibly fortunate addition to their models and are told to be as courteous and subservient as they can be, to not fuck this work relationship up lest he change company. What the father did not expect was for a familiar face to walk into the room; long pale blond hair and dark eyes he could never forget. Emery had returned.

They meeting was pleasant. They laughed and joked, reminisced about the good old days and how Emery in the heat of the moment as a child had made such arrogant empty threats.
Except, empty they were not.

Emery invites the father out for casual drinks, offering so amicably to pay as an apology for the way they parted when he was young. The father accepts, downing drink after drink at Emery's behest until the world is blurred and voices echo around. Once the father is too drunk to even stand, Emery takes him to a hotel  and fucks him. Recording it on tape, editing voice recording, making it look like he was pressured into it by the father. Then, he drugs the drunken father and pays a young disabled child to help in his scheme; photographing the father with the kid in set-up compromising positions. (Nothing actually happened, don't worry) All so meticulously framed and damning.

Within the next week the recordings and photographs are leaked to the public and the backlash is beyond violent. His wife leaves him, his job fires him, the community despises him and the family of the child threatens a lawsuit against him. Left with no escape, not alibis and no way out- He takes his own life.
Emery has fulfilled his decade long promise.
But every action has consequence.


Learning of what has transpired, Nyrn returns to London with only one purpose in mind; to seek out and reap revenge. Unbeknownst to her that she may have walked back right into a decade-old trap laid out for her...

The Red Bride
Marquis x Woman who claimed to be his mistress
Romance, dark, suspense, drama

"Bury me in red"

The Red Bride; that was what they called her in the courts.
She was the newest curiosity of the elite French nobility, her true name and providence shrouded in mystery. The dames wanted to befriend her, the men
wanted to possess her, but neither party ever succeeded in their endeavours. If only they knew the truth that they were chasing after a lowly peasant!

All that was known of her, and all their small minds needed to believe, was that she claimed to the lover and mistress to the notorious beast of Caville; a
Marquis so feared that his presence alone could sunder the mood of balls. He was said to be of gargantuan standing, taller than any other man in court
and built like an ox. It was said he murdered his dearest most gentlemanly friend over a simple disagreement years ago with a single strike. It was said
that any maiden unfortunate enough to be betrothed to him would be devoured just as a lamb at the slaughter.
And, it was said, that the man had died.

Was her title true? Not in the slightest, she’d never met the man, never even lived in this god forsaken town. But Emily, her dearest friend had, until she
was unceremoniously was murdered on the streets like a dog a month ago. Ever since then she had travelled to Caville, tried to get information from the
Gendarmes and the nobles, tried pleading for help in solving this atrocity and getting the monster who did this put behind bars. But it was all for naught.
They wouldn’t pay any heed to a commoner.
But perhaps they would listen to the mistress of a Marquis.

With his disappearance from society, months since there was any word of him, it had seemed the perfect chance to slip her way into the Haute-Société
and gather information from all the loose mouthed gossiping tits and arrogant bulbous toads! And for a while it worked, she was getting closer.

Until tonight.
For tonight, standing right in front of her small frame, with an air of stern judgement and disgust, was he. The Beast of Caville, impossibly tall, a dark
shadow ‘cross his brow and very, very much alive.

Now you see me...
Stalker x Object of their affection
Dark, psychological, small instances of comedy and romance

"Blink and you'll miss it"

They were in the same circle of friends since he transferred to her school over a decade ago. A lifetime spent in a strange paradox of being close enough to touch but too far to have a truly casual conversation. They became shadows to each other, a peaceful bliss of mutual disinterest whilst in the other presence. Perhaps it was due to this comfort in each others solitude that subtle hints of a growing danger were so easily left unseen.


He was the schools' golden boy with his superb grades, his meek and humble personality and efficiency at chess which had led the colleges team to win numerous championships and therefore sponsors. He wasn't exactly the stockiest guy on the block, but his good looks and sweet mannerisms had garnered him more than a fair share of stolen glances from smitten classmates. From a wealthy family and good upbringing, it seemed this boy had truly been blessed to have everything go in his favour.
Except her. And damned be she.


She, a foreigner who had moved here during her childhood years when her parents met an unfortunate end. She who had come to live with her aunt; a crazy old cat woman whose love for pop tarts, cheese and all things feline ruled her life. She who despite not having particularly good grades became class president in part due to her upbeat personality, willingness to get things done and 'no nonsense' motto.She whose attractiveness was not to be overlooked but did not stick out like a sore thumb. She who not only overlooked him but rather saw through him like no more than a spectre as her eyes ever searched for him, a lummox, a brute and his unfortunate best friend.

For so long he has watched from just close enough to reach, content in just looking, observing, stealing tidbits of information in exchange for sexual favour all the while contemplating what could have been. So long had he told himself that this was enough to sate his thirst.
But as in all tales, change is inevitable.

One day when the group of friends go to a concert, in the dark of the night and midst of the crowd the young girl feels a hand by her side which she believes to be that of the young man she has pinned over for years. Inebriated, impulsive and egged on by a far more outspoken friend she takes it and a moment of tenderness is shared. That is until she realises her beau is not who she thought him to be. With this one small action, a chaotic string of unfortunate events unfurl as the two spiral down the rabbit hole.

From that day on she seems him everywhere, watching her. Always watching, ever closer. As subtle confusion turns to outright paranoia, one question remains:

Who is truly mad here?

((What is so important in this role-play, which makes it different from the normal stalker x victim cliches, is the fact it's a heavily psychological role-play. Everything is subtle and subterfuge. The stalker never tries to force himself onto the female protagonist but he has been watching her from afar the whole time. She just wasn't aware of it until the pivotal moment that makes her SEE him for the first time. This physical contact, this closeness that they experience even unwittingly is what really sets him off in a downward spiral. He was content before just watching, no more. He wants her to come to him of her own free will and his stalking is just as much a means to an end as it is a symptom of his mental illness. He makes sure the protagonist sees him watching her, causing her in turn to start watching him; At first out of confusion, then out of worry and finally out of habit which can become dependancy.

Do you see what's happened there? It's emotional and instinctual manipulation! I LOVE IT!  Just remember, this character is supposed to be delicate is his own way. Not just a mastermind, he truly desperately wants her love, her approval, her affection. He wants her to want him, more than anything and it's unbearable to him. It is torture and pain upon him when denied this. And maybe, just maybe she is juts as crazy too.))

Possession
Possessed husband (or not) x Wife
Psychological, romantic, mystery

"What if the person you loved became somebody else?"

Possession is a term thrown around a lot and mostly attributed to unseen beings such as daemons or spirits taking over another's body. It’s an occult occurrence which has been slipping through the cracks of time, only rarely noticed on occasion by the fair few unlucky enough to have been touched by it. A peculiar pity that our leading female will have none of it. She considers it all complete rubbish. With her being a psychologist blessed with the chance to work with the criminally insane she is naturally heavily settled in her secure and science-oriented lifestyle.


Then on the most inconspicuous of days comes a life-altering call; Her beloved fiancé is in a coma due to a tragic accident involving their reclusive neighbour. He is a strange fellow known about the small town, always an unsettling air about him, an empty yet aloof look in his eyes.
Never a word spoken, never a moment inattentive and never any attempt at contact with her or her spouse.
She is left emotionally vulnerable and confused by the turn of events as her life seems to spiral out of her control. The next day her neighbour comes home. Her husband to be does not. As the anger, guilt and questions why begin to pile up and bubble beneath the surface, something far more insidious comes to disturb still waters.


Upon waking up and being asked if he can remember what happened who he is, the strange fellow replies that he is in fact her fiancé. The doctors cannot explain this occurrence. Brain damaged is suspected. Yet throughout various unwanted encounters the undesired guest reveals that he knows things that he shouldn't. Information such as what her fiancé whispered to her in private, romantic letters he sent her every week and happenings that took place during their teenage years of their budding romance.

Horrified, shaken and partially disgusted with herself for letting these encounters get to her, our protagonist is left to wonder: Is this truly a case of a soul taking possession of another's body? It is madness? Or is perhaps something far more sinister at hand?

(( Okay so the idea revolves around the fact that it can either be an actual possession, or it can all be a meticulously woven lie by somebody pretending to be somebody else in spirit. They could do this for a number of reasons. Perhaps so they can live a luxurious lifestyle they could never otherwise have had, perhaps they were in love with the wife to be and would go to any lengths to possess her even if it meant pretending to be somebody else. Or it could be an actual demon pretending to be the husband! You could make me think it's an actual possession and then twist it around or vice versa! The possibilities are endless!

Fun Fact: The reason I called this plot possession is because it can be used to describe either the possession of the soul in the others' body, or the physical possession of the wife and/or lifestyle. Muhahah! Double Meanings!

Crush
Student x Teacher
Manipulation, Blackmailing, Obsession, infidelity

" You can run..."

Please be aware the male is obviously going to be younger here!


She was a psychologist.
One of the best in the country, in fact, often being called out to give talks at universities three times a year and seminars.
Despite her reputation and her best efforts, a dark shadow had loomed over her shoulder for 10 years, one which has marred her stainless reputation. It had happened long ago, so long that the memories blurred into each other and the series of events were sometime confused with the nightmares that came after.

She had been only 20 years of age when she taught young students of only 12 to 13 years of age. It was a class of youths in a private school; The sons and daughters of rich and influential tycoons who wanted only the best for their children. It was supposed to be an introduction to the art of psychology and psycho-analysis so that youths might become interested in the workings of the mind. In that year she had some of the most apt and wonderful students of her life. The relation between her and her students was marvellous and she cherished each and every one of them. It seemed the feeling was reciprocated, their little faces beaming every time they entered her classroom.

Yet, somewhere along the way, the unthinkable happened.
One of her students, a young boy, her favourite amongst all the promising young minds she had taught, suddenly accused her of untoward behaviour during class hours. Within mere days her reputation, her job, her life... All was reduced to tatters by the childs' words. She would have gone to jail, were it not for the other students defending her, stating she'd never done any such thing and that there was no proof she ever touched the boy.
She was cleared of the charges but her life was not to be the same.

For a while she tried to go back to teaching, but found she feared any and all contact with her students. Any movement, any hug, any touch could be seen, conceived, expected as something more.The parents would give her accusatory glances as they picked up their children and some even pulled their kids out of her class altogether. Her love for teaching robbed, she resigned and vowed never to again teach.

Twelve years later she had managed to repair her reputation, to distance herself from the events of the past as best she could. Yet there are still times when somebody brings it up, before being sternly informed that it was nothing more than a child's misunderstanding. For years a friend has been trying desperately to get her to teach again in universities, assuring her that nothing could possibly go wrong. Every time she had refused, until now.

A nasty breakup with her Fiancée (who she'd found to be unfaithful) has left her trudging around her home aimlessly. In an attempt to get away from this she takes her friend up on the offer and begins to teach again. For a while, everything is smooth sailing. Her students are of a decent level, interested in learning, her job pays well and the grading keeps her occupied that she doesn't have much time to think of him.

That's when she begins to notice one student, in particular, her top student in fact. Almost straight As every test and always proactive in the classroom. They share some flirtatious banter which was meant as nothing more than small talk, yet the way he looks at her makes her nauseous, the way he speaks a ghost in her memory. Little does she know, she's about to relive a nightmare.


(Alright so this may seem a bit vague but here is the main gist. The kid who accused her of being inappropriate was actually already disturbed at his age and intelligent beyond his years. When he attempted to show affection or sent her a love letter, she did what any teacher would do and put it down to child's crush, not taking it seriously. So when she shows friendly (platonic)affection to another student right after, he decides to do what any angry kid does and get back her. Not realising that in doing so, he'd be making her leave and be unable to see her anymore.

Twelve years later the boy is all grown up and hasn't forgotten his professor. Feeling a mixture of remorse and anger that she got away, he managed to get into her class and find her again, despite her not longer being able to recognize a boy who has matured since his early teens. What will now happen? It's up to you. )

Master and Commander
Android x Creators Daughter
Psychological, Dark, Different Species, Murder

"Made to yield yet meant to rule."

There was once a bitter old man who built an empire off of the promise of being equal to god.

He came from nothing, clawed, fought and bought his way to the highest ranks of society. Now for all to see he is the head of a robotics company that had dominated the worldwide market and has just developed the newest model in a long line of androids spanning over decades. However this is not enough. To create a submissive a machine is as easy as breaking the bones of a helpless infant. However, to subjugate a mind as great or greater than his own, one born of his own creations, now that is a feat worthy of a god.

To this end he has worked tirelessly to create a new kind of android one with newly developed AI systems complete with self-upgrading microfibre connectors in their central hub. It was meant to replicate the neural pathways of the human brain to allow it to learn faster, just like an individual would. Never before had this been tested and, in theory, this allow the android to learn to think and perform on its own accord. The outside layer of casing is of the merchandise made of triple woven microscopic nylon thread to be almost exactly like skin to the touch and the expressive organs in the face to be more life-like than ever before.
The perfect human. A perfect slave.


Naturally, some people are worried about this new creation and how safe it would be to have such a thing around people even with restrictions coded into them. The creator in all his hubris decides to run a test, to let the first prototype live in his house with him. Originally this was meant to be just him and the android, an optimal space for subjugation and modification, but when his impoverished ex-wife dies, his estranged daughter who had for so long refused to speak to acknowledge him is forced to return to the mansion.

A graduate in philosophy  the Creator believes she might be helpful in teaching the robot how to act around and associate with humans so as to serve them better. Yet, although initially hesitant, as they begin to become acquainted she can't help but prod about his feelings about serving another species, about being the only one of its kind.

Treating it like a real human being compared to the father who treats it like a lowly and unfeeling object begins to cause a divide in its code. Slowly the android who has dedicate every second to its masters, give attention  and poses questions where none are desired nor appropriate.

((This role-play may start off with comedy and awkward lighthearted moments as the android figures its way around the world, but remember it's a dark and psychological. It is a sad story with moments of realisation that the android is alone, will always be alone and would not be allowed to have a family, which slowly makes it become savage and dangerous.))

Álainn Bród
Human x Unseelie Dark Elf
Romance, Drama, Dark, potential group?

"A dark stranger and a mysterious past..."

Deep in the Celtic highlands of Ireland there have always been whispers of beings beyond our veiled sight since the first civilisations rose. Slowly and gently like a sea breeze they have been woven deep into the lands, never to be parted. Sometimes when you walk the fields and forests of Ireland, places forgotten and paths not tread, you can feel it in the air, a moment of stillness where the world goes quiet and something inside you stirs. It is a quiet knowing and acceptance. They call this Arcardia. It is said that Arcardia only comes to pass when a human comes to stand in the suffering or melancholy presence of one of the beings of old; the Fae.
There are many misconceptions about the fair folk- namely that they are all fair and good.

Faeries comes in all kinds of shapes and dispositions. Some are more human than others, whereas some are more monstrous than the beasts of old. Because of this inconsistency, it can be difficult to tell Faeries from others ethereal creatures that dwell in the depth of the world. There is however, one homogeneous trait that all the fae are shackled to- Their devotion to their court.

The Seelie and Unseelie courts, are an immutable absolute in their world. The Seelie Fae are those known as joyous and blessed, the messengers and harbingers of good fortunes to our and the natural world. Inversely, the Unseelie Court is that of misfortune and the unholy, those tasked with the carnage and afflictions of our world to keep it within a balance. Naturally the two courts are caught in an eternal power struggle but one that is a symbiotic relationship such as that of Day and Night.

It is elves that rule the courts, being the most powerful of the fae folks, thus the best known to us through myth. As such there areDøkkálfar, the dark elves and the Ljósálfar, the light elves. Both elven of the court are said to be astoundingly beautiful, but in vastly different ways. The light elves possess skin as bright and brilliant as the sun itself upon a slender frame and move with the grace of its rays. The Dark elves possess a dark blue tinted skin like smoke in the night and a devastatingly imposing physical disposition to which they owe their brute strength.

It would be nothing short of a lie to say that the dark elves inspired fear where their cousins inspired elation. The dark elves were known for their brutality, bestiality and on occasion in times of war with the Seelie, their cannibalism. To fall into the clutches of the dark ones was not a death sequence, it was martyrdom. It was due to the tales of the Unseelie that even the greatest of kings feared the night and the whispers outside their window. For you see, the dark elves deeply despised the triviality and greed of humanity. To the dark ones, humans were a plague upon the world, taking all that they could and leaving naught in their wake. Where the Seelie wished to see them flourish or take them in, albeit as willing slaves, the Unseelie desired nothing more than to cleanse the world of them.

After aeons of bloodshed, hunting and struggle, in an attempt to salvage what good was left of their worlds the fae folk came to an arrangement and created the veil. The veil was a magical barrier that separated the mortal and fae worlds by breaking them into three severed realities built one atop the other. The uppermost realm was the sun touched home of the Seelie, the lowermost was the bioluminescent nocturnal realm of the Unseelie and in between lay the realm of man.

At first, this serendipitous trinity secured a golden age of progress and serenity for all. The Seelie built castles high into the skies, the Unseelie seeded phosphorescent fields beneath the moonlight. And man? Woefully, and with nothing to cull their numbers, mankind grew and bred like cockroaches left unchecked, washing upon our world like a plague and in their hubris forgot what lurked in the depths of the world.


----


In the 1900s, an archaeology team found tunnel ruins deep in the bowls of Ireland, dating back further than they could record. Within the tunnel antechamber they found what seemed to be a gargantuan door adorned with runes that did not seem to belong to any culture they could discern. Wall paintings covering the expanse of the room depicted beautiful beings, dreadful creatures and broken land beneath them. It was an astounding find. One that both confused and thrilled them as it was clear that whomever should be the first to enter what lay beyond would pass down a name in the annals of history.

In a rush to be the first to discover whatever secrets were entombed there, and without the appropriate consideration nor care, they carved their way forward with lumbering machines, blasted with their dynamite and hammered with brute tools. Like the children they were, they fooled around with something beyond their understanding. By the time they broke through, they realised too late that this was no door, it was a seal.

In a moment the realms collapsed onto each other in a cataclysmic eventand all that had once been veiled from us became seen. Where there had once been great cities now stood a broken patchwork of lands forced into an unholy fusion, forests protruding from where streets once lay, and structures never known to man ripping clean through ground, home and flesh alike. Amongst the wreckage of the mortal realm, the few surviving fae watched as what had been their paradises fell to their feet.

In the confusion humanity and elves took great casualties, when said confusion faded it was replaced by a venomous anger. There was little time to regroup when a great war was waged and the population on both sides faltered, setting people back in technological advancements by decades. Towards the end, humanity had reached it breaking point, almost eradicated by the two courts, when they developed what we know to be guns. It could not save them, but it would be a turning point in this war. One last riposte. The Seelie Court knew that in the process of snuffing out humans, they too would take severe losses from the backlash. Fair though they may be, self-servient were they greatly and their own interests demanded a new gambit. The fair ones extended an unconditional peace to the few humans leftover in an effort to salvage what was left of them all. The humans, who would have been fools otherwise, accepted, but the Unseelie did not.

With their home world in ruins around them, and their disgust for humans now more prominent than ever, the Unseelie stood their ground and marched to annihilate what was left of the human species and any Seelie that stood in their way. It what then that the humans and Seelie court desperately banded together in one last desperate attempt, sharing their newfound weapons and their fate. On the 6thhour of the 70thnight, the Unseelie were brought to their knees.

40 Years Later


The world has stabilised, an era of steam powered machines is now in place with the first cars and telephones. The three realms now live in a peace strained by social cast, beauty and influence, but a peace none the less. If one is beautiful many doors will be open to them as one of the Seelies ‘pets’ or entourage. The Seelie make up the higher class of polite society, the aristocracy to which acceptance into is kept on a tight leash. To break into the world of the elite is damn near impossible without some inside help. Due to this, humans more often than not serve the Seelie and make up the majority of the middle class and work force. This is something many are displeased with, knowing full well this kind of social slavery is not what they intended when they agreed to a peace treaty, but none dare utter out of fear of going missing.

Despite the strained relations between the races of Humans and Seelie, they have not forgotten the circumstances of the wars end. Unseelie although holding a strong presence are still looked down upon with a certain disdain and prejudice. They are seen as the bottom of the barrel and considerably more dangerous than any current species, leading to bad reputations, even for those dark elves who have worked their way to the top of social ladder on equal footing to the Light elves.

Duate, daughter of the cosmetic tycoon, Eldritch Gavaun questions the cast system every day. Since she was little, she has been experiencing and seeing first-hand for herself the social carnage around her. Places she is not of a high enough social standing to go, places too dangerous of somebody of her standing to loiter- Everywhere she looks she sees more cage bars in her way and as her birthday approaches, desperation is setting in. Her disdain for the pompous Seelie is only rivalled by that for her own father whose only concern is to marry his only daughter into wealth to continue the family line. As a human her prospects were limited, but by the grace of her beauty, she has the potential to marry into a Seelie family, if one would only have her. And that is exactly the problem.
They would.

Duate does not care to marry for money, the idea makes her sick. The only thing that makes her more nauseous than an arranged marriage is the prospect of being a bought toy bride to a Seelie. The Seelie and Unseelie leave her without hope. On one hand you have the Seelie that treat humans like disposable playthings in all their vanity and excessive lifestyle. On the other the dark Unseelie, tall, brutish and manhating since the dawn of time would probably rip her to shreds. They in particular scare her but she realistically has nowhere else to go.

Then on the eve of her birthday, whilst all potential suitors gathered in the family’s hall, open to the public for the event, her worst fears come true.
Like a storm as dark as his skin, crossing and conquering a bright spring eve, he strode into the halls. With wide eyes on him, without so much as an announcement or introduction, he proclaimed that he would pay double of whatever dowry her father was offered. Her father elated and Duate horrified as she stared at the Elite social cast Unseelie before them, questions races through her mind:

Who is this stranger, what possessed him to want her and why does he look so familiar?

Aftermath
Nightcrawler x OC mutant
Adventure, Comedy, Romance

"A path of redemption or ruin."

Set after the events off X-men apocalypse, the world is still recovering from the horrors endured during the self-proclaimed gods' siege against humanity. Things have not been going well for the x-men, despite the fact they were the ones to stop Apocalypse and his followers. In the shadows still lurk mutants who agree with his beliefs and strike out at random intervals. On the other hand, a cult of 'mutant hunters' have arisen in the last past months, people sick of being subjected to disaster every time a powerful mutant loses their temper and takes it out on the world around them. Because of this the new x-men in training are being worked like dogs to be ready to save the next mutant that requires safe harbour and to defeat those who would try to start a new war. One of them in particular, nightcrawler is struggling with the aspect of fighting, having always had a more peaceful demeanour.

It is during this time that a new mutant reveals themselves and requires Xavier’s full attention.
The OC is a mutant named 'Ghost', a young woman with a dark history of incarceration and subjection to religious fanaticism. With a deep-rooted hatred of religious idols of any kind and an unquenchable need to reap revenge on homo-sapiens, she is as fury incarnate. Thus, evidently the primordial opposite of Kurt Wagner who has a distaste for fighting and has deep rooted religious beliefs.

As one may imagine the two do not hit it off well upon their first encounter and are only getting to know each other due to Charles Xavier’s' insistence that they work together as a team so that they might learn from each other and improve upon their own inner demons. His hopes are that Kurt will learn how to fight from Ghost by embracing one's powers, whilst Ghost would learn forgiveness and humility from Nightcrawler.

From the best of intentions is sparked a chain of events that may lead to peace or ruin.

Brain Blerbs of potential ideas:

I’d like to toy around with the idea of one of my character being a stalker, out of pure interest
The idea of a more conventional bully x victim with the female being the one being bullied could be nice if done well and not too stereotypically.

Another idea is one of two stalkers stalking each other.
My girl starts out stalking your guy, he’s everything anybody could want! But then he notices and confronts her about it, she tries to escape and shrug it off. And in a terrifically twisted turn of events, he begins to stalk her too, having caught the eye of a madman.

I really wanna experiment with pairing my character with a potential mute male (wether this be the truth or some kind of ruse). It may be difficult but having this tall, dark, handsome and very silent opposing force sounds like it could be interesting and intimidating.


If interested in any please message me!