Ideas, plots, fandoms, and whatnot [m/f, m/m, f/f]

Started by blue envy, April 12, 2010, 07:44:43 PM

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blue envy

Updated Business
Updated: Things have been shuffled around, removed, re-added.
Current craving: A kidnapping line. Please?
Notes:  Nothing to say here, I guess, right now.

The whatnot
I play M/F, M/M, F/F in no particular order of preference. 
Usually, I give what I get but I can't work with one liners.  It kills me.  I'm a two paragraph minimum kind of girl.
O/O's are mostly complete but if there's a question you can ask; I'm not scary.
Lastly, PM works best for contact.  I don't check this as often.
  • Postscript
  • Dropped Lines: Dropped lines happen to the best of us. We go on hiatus, we have real life, we're not as engaged as we had hoped during the planning, or any other number of reasons.  It's okay to drop lines.
  • Multiple Lines: If we work well together, feel free to prod me for a second line that runs simultaneously.
  • Renewing Lines: Oops, a line got dropped awhile back but you're dying to give it or another line a shot.  Please do!  Don't hesitate to contact me again -- no explanation or apologies needed.

Ideas and Plots
(All are up for discussion and alteration.)

A Kidnapping M/F
A criminal, a murderer, and, some might say, a sociopath. The plan was simple: take the girl, keep her alive for a short time, killer her and leave her body in a public place. Except Adrianne wasn’t a little girl and she wasn’t afraid of him. It was a long way by car back to New York from California and he had time to dump her body, but first he had other plans, first he could break her, make her a pet willing to give up her body for him and willing to kill for him.
(NC, possibly EX; violence, side character death, blood, rape, force, coercion, and other warnings TBD.  )
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

La Belle M/F
A village stood on the border of two countries in a time of war. When an army from the neighboring country came by horseback across the grain fields, Belle was the first to catch sight of them. The prince, leading his men, in sport surrounded her. Eventually she was snatched up by the prince and carried home where a trade was made for the safety of the village for one girl, for Belle.
(Romance or NC. The prince should be dominant but does not necessarily have to exhibit any violence toward her.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Doctor Who
Harry Potter
Sherlock Holmes

Pairings, etc
High school bully/geek or loner
High school loner/popular girl
Knight/princess or peasant
Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

All you have to do is respond in character either through a PM or a thread.  Easy!
Or we can do that whole discussing thing too.

Sea Song
(MxF.  Historical, Magical Realism.  Warnings: TBD)
Oh, they’d reached the island. They’d reached the island and she hadn’t had the heart to lure anyone off to their deaths. There wasn’t a single scrap of decent news that Shellina would want to hear from her. Anemone floated just below the surface of the water, toward the aft of the ship. Slowly, so as not to be noticed, her white-blonde hair broke through the salt-sea. The thin fingers of her hands pressed against the barnacled wood. Blue eyes were cast upward toward the deck but she was too close to see any movement despite hearing the barking call of orders and the occasional bout of cursing of laughter. She had hoped, at one time, that the men would destroy each other. There was still a possibility of it. It wasn’t a nice thought but it was better than lulling them into a daze and letting them drown or be eaten.

The island was so close. Her tail fanned the water, nervous at the idea of venturing onto the land if it came to that. The rest of the sirens were counting on her to make something of them. Land-dwellers. Not proper merfolk at all but to keep these men out of the ocean... Her brow furrowed. She pushed away from the side of the ship and floated out until she could make out the heads of deckhands ambling about their business. They hadn’t done anything! Not yet. They would. Anemone bit absently at her lip as she hovered half above the gentle waves. The taste of the salt on her tongue didn’t bother her.

A long breath was drawn before the quiet, steady sound of her voice interrupted the coarse conversations of the men. The song was, like most siren songs, ethereal. The notes echoed of their own accord. It rose and fell like calm rolling hills, calling the men home. It created visions of peace and bliss; coaxing them toward the sound that lulled them into idiocy.

From where she had positioned herself she could see several had ceased their work and were approaching the edge, leaning over to be nearer to the sound. Though they may or may not have been capable of seeing her through their delusions, Anemone smiled at them and lifted her hand to urge them to join her. All she needed was one. One would be enough. For now. It was the stout sailor with the patchy scruff on his face and vacant eyes that clamored over. Men more coherent than him made an attempt to stop him; some even had the sense to shout.

In less than a second he had crashed into the water. The song was cut short before any other men lost their lives by her and she dove after the man that had unknowingly volunteered his life. The end of the song brought him back to himself and he splashed and floundered and called to his mates. Anemone reached out and caught his ankle, pulling him down. The men watching would have seen a flip of her blue fins and the disrupted water begin to still.

All the kicking in the world, the desperate scramble for air wouldn’t save him. Anemone’s grip was firm and determined. She pulled him down farther than necessary, past the point of return. The life drained slowly and just before he had ceased moving the siren released her prey. It was the first time she looked back at him. His body floated in the gentle current.

One life was probably not enough.

A Walking Shadow
(MxM. MxF for the right lady.  Modern, Magical Realism.  Warnings: TBD)
Siren’s song, that’s what it was. Soprano and contralto voices mixed in wordless verse and chorus. The sound reverberated through the fibers of being, called and coaxed, lured, rose and fell. The music was a slow, melancholy lament for the forces unseen by the reality of the world the treasure presently inhabited. The tune it carried reached out, grasped with desperate, stretching claws to sink into the skin and mind of those creatures that could hear it. The imprint it left was burned into the memory, a ghost that craved reconnection like an addiction that had gone too long unfed. The vibrations lingered through the veins, made them hum hungrily. The absence of the item, the absence of the complete song left a hollow, starved feeling in its wake that refused to dissipate or ease. It was a constant pressure that nagged and tore that had, after a century, become a companion. Not a friend but a thing that sat in the back of thought, ever present. There were days and nights of nothing but its incessant calling, countless seasons of the same gravity pulling, and it sat ever out of reach, not a step closer.

Silencing and untraceable, invisibility was a gift. It gave the appearance of privacy that was never truly permitted or was refused to be given. Most of the night was spent in an intangible existence that was neither present nor absent, observing with darkened eyes. The orbs looked artificially colored, blacked out by spilled ink that had consumed everything it could touch. They threw reflections in oily, blurred clarity as the target of the demon’s attention dressed for the day after finally having the sense to leave the warmth of a bed.

He sat cross-legged on the comforter, back straight and formal despite the strange attire of jeans and a dark buttoned shirt – there was no sense in him holding to fashion expectations though this was respectable enough not to be questioned should he decide to appear in front of a crowd. Old women weren’t going to stare and young children would probably go on ignoring him. He wouldn’t be mistaken for a delinquent or someone striving to obtain the impression of a time that had died years ago.

Chin rested in hand and his index finger tapped rhythmically against his jaw.  The monster slowly materialized. It was possible to snap in and out of being but it was less jarring to humans to do things slowly. Shocking their systems after a certain age had negative results as Liam had figured out after a few weeks of his residence on earth when he’d popped up in a park and startled an old man into having a heart attack. It was inconsequential at the time but now some care had become nothing more than habit from being ordered about by an owner that had better manners.

The colorlessness of his eyes collapsed inward, the black slipped away like water running down a drain. White was revealed and then a brilliant blue that mimicked the jewel he sought. This was a tactic also adopted from lessons learned from the first human he’d encountered. She had scolded him fiercely for startling her after a nightmare had left her awake and screaming in a darkened room. Needless to say, his eyes were not a comforting sight and the continued tantrum she threw brought the whole household into her room as if a murder was taking place. Having to avoid explaining to the adults that she’d been terrified by a demon she allowed near her wouldn’t have gone over well in a religious family.

Liam untangled himself from the position on the bed. In fluid movement, quick only because it lacked clumsiness and wasted action, he stood behind his present human. “You can’t be taking that with you,” he warned in his frosted Irish accent. “You’ll get it taken away or stole, you might even lose it for as careless as you are.” By ‘you’ he meant humans. Humans were notoriously careless beings. They were always losing things like their keys, their socks, their children.  “I’d gladly take it off your hands for a bit,” he offered quietly. There was humor in his voice and threatening to break onto his otherwise serious features.

The Origins of War
(MxM or MxF.  Modern, Realistic/Magical Realism.  Warnings: TBD)
Some situations were seen as fortuitous; this was not one of those situations.

In the mafia world there were always invisible lines of ownership. The cities that were forced to share organizations were divided and the divisions were often unclear. In this case there had been a clear divide that separated the crime families and that was a single street. It may have been seen as a free domain to live in peacefully but history had proven that this particular street was the place where most violence and retaliation occurred because no one planning mischief ever made it very far inside of enemy lines. It was because of the middle-ground not the danger that Nikita had found himself in a little establishment that seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the next attack. The outside of the building had seen at least one fire and numerous scars from bullets which undoubtedly grated on Nikki's nerves.

At the table, carefully chosen away from the window, he sat facing the glass and the door. Experience had taught him well; survival was about a lack of emotion and a series of carefully planned choices. There wasn't a paper trail, nothing he could leave for her to pick up, it all had to be verbally transmitted and since this hot spot for death was so universally known the police figured no one was foolish enough to discuss politics there - not even Nikki could have foreseen this place as a meeting place.

A waiter moved listlessly through a routine, dragging himself between the tables laboriously as though the agony of working in a sad little restaurant with limited business and a menu that attempted to cater to everyone in the vicinity on a tiny budget was too much to take. Closer inspection through the questionable lighting revealed his apathy extended to shaving as well. It was like stepping into the Twilight Zone when you came onto this street, most of the places were similar, no one wanted to take any chances of being flashy or catching any attention.

While his boss was somewhat trusting of this new proposition, Nikita was not. Though he scooted his half empty water glass over a white clothed table, his gun sat motionless on his leg and out of sight. He was a bookie, that's what he did. His life, as far as anyone here knew, revolved around figures not serving as potential bait or a go-between - he had enough to worry about.

Your Best Shot
(MxF.  Modern, Realistic.  Warnings: TBD )
There was nothing quite like the first party of the year. Really, it set the tone for all other parties after it. It was setting a bar and for a soiree that started off their senior year it was adequate. The gathering was at Laura Lea Morgan's house. Or, more appropriately, her parents' house but they were gone for the weekend on an anniversary vacation that left their charming and well mannered daughter alone. What better way to spend a weekend alone at home than with a good majority of the school? It was the perfect place: two stories, gated home, pool in the backyard, balcony. It was Laura Lea's money that made her as popular as she was because in reality she was just a simple creature that could match a good pair of heels with any outfit. She also knew how to throw a party with a little help from her best friend: Adrianne Harwood.

Adrianne understood popularity politics like no one else. Her entire life was built around the prestige of it. In the eyes of her elders she was a model student, a cheerleader, a member of student counsel, and active in her church. To her peers she was a two-faced brat who spent too much time scheming yet if anyone wanted to get anywhere they needed her friendship. If parties were going to be a success then she was going to be involved so, of course, she was obligated to assist in this little get together.

Music echoed through the rooms of the house as people gathered in various group sizes, cradling bottled drinks, colored sugary fruity drinks, and red plastic cups. By this time there were girls making fools of themselves with boys they shouldn't be seen dancing with and boys getting to talk to the pretty girls of their dreams. It was all going to rapidly go downhill as the night went on and those innocent little girls and boys were going to be doing things their parents would be ashamed of. This was going to make for excellent gossip come Monday! That was the only thing that kept Ria happy since her ex had decided to make an appearance. Honestly, she was silently seething in the living room with a cute little smirk on her face that made her look like an unwilling model for the wine colored autumn dress she wore. She needed something, needed change, excitement, a break from the mundane rumor mill. Now what was going to give her that?

Murky eyes scanned over the masses as she cradled a pinkish looking drink that was over half of the way gone. Laura Lea was in the kitchen supervising the mixing of drinks with her boyfriend Trevor; no way she was going to touch that little affair. Well, for starters she had to get out of this little group discussing class because it was ruining her mood so with a quiet and contrived politeness she slipped through their ranks. Maybe what she needed was a new toy, a new romance, a new... what? Was she pleasantly buzzed already? Yes. God, focus Ria. Senior year can't suck.

The listless walking in search of engaging conversation or circumstances stopped for the briefest moment. Was that who she thought it was? Why yes it was. An eyebrow raised and the forced look of pleasure faded into something naturally devious. Ria made her approach as inconspicuous as she could and her greeting was quiet like she was trying to surprise him. "Hey." She could sound awfully friendly and personable when she wanted to. "How's the party?"

You were Meant for Me
(MxF.  Modern, Realistic.  Warnings: Drugs and alcohol abuse, violence)

It was late. It wasn't late. Depending on who you asked it was somewhere between early and late. Some people felt it was late and that was why she had been stuffed unceremoniously into a taxi by her companions. Now the lights of the city were flashing past and the people on the sidewalk seemed to barely be getting anywhere except when the car was stopped. Her forehead rested against the window and she watched the lights with a dull interest. One purple painted nail tapped against the glass until she finally sighed and sat back in the seat. Never had she realized how dull the backseat of a vehicle was and she moved incessantly to find some comfort or contentment where she was. It wasn't working. Nothing was working!

Caprice's hand fumbled through the little blue purse, hunting in the dark until she found her phone. According to the lit screen it was almost midnight. Technically it was eleven and some odd minutes but it was getting closer to midnight every second! She fidgeted with the phone bursting into a fit of laughter at her inability to actually make it work before going back to intently making her way through the list of phone numbers and names in her address book. Then she found his name and she lightly tapped on the call button but not hard enough to actually make it do anything. Indecision. Something told her to do something else and she bit at her lip in consideration. She was going to his place anyway but she was also impatient. After what felt like five minutes she finally sent the text: 'awake?? plz?'

Not long after sending her little message she was deposited in front of his building and she wavered her way through what felt like a maze to his door. Caprice Avery, or Capa as she'd been called since she was little (Cape-eez was not the better alternative at five years old), just couldn't manage to keep herself away. It wasn't as difficult when she was completely sober but she wasn't completely sober, she rarely was anymore. It just made everything more interesting and the only downfall was that she always had the urge to see her ex. Well, she could regret that decision when she was sober.

Capa tugged at her shirt as if trying to pull wrinkles out of it and fussed with her hair though she didn't really do anything to it. In the process she managed to drop her phone once and nearly dump everything out of her purse twice. After chasing her phone around the hall and having to sit down to snicker about it, she finally pulled herself up. With a bit more composure she leaned against the doorframe and tapped at the door, her ear pressed against the surface to listen for any sound that might be coming from inside, any indication that he was awake. She was anxious and holding her breath without realizing it.
Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Fandom Introductions
The same as the regular introductions except these are for fandoms.
Most of these are Harry Potter.

Sherlock Holmes
A Study in...
(Sherlock/John.  Warnings: Drug abuse)
Since Watson’s departure from his long-time residence at Baker Street the rooms that had once been shared by doctor and detective had not changed much because of one man’s absence. There were different stacks of paper on the desk, the violin sat in a new location, the meal that had been brought to Holmes was left untouched, and the smell of tobacco smoke was perhaps more prominent than it had ever been. Mrs. Hudson kept the dust from collecting on the shelves and the floors but everything was as it had been left. The main room that had been occupied by the pair on so many nights of instigating as they sat by a warming fire was doused in darkness. The curtains had not been drawn back; it was a trivial task that served very little purpose to Holmes except when he was curious to know if anyone would be paying him a visit. Small tasks had been so often left to Watson to care. The light of day or the black of night had little sway over what Holmes would be doing with his time anyway.

Holmes was hard at work in the corner of the room at a small table he’d taken from the side of a chair placed near the fire. There was an assortment of books set out about the floor along with the vials of liquid that sat on the surface of the table. His sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow and he was shaking a corked liquid vigorously to produce some result. The tap at the door had barely registered in his mind; it was an annoyance at best. If his focus had been on visitors he would have assumed it was someone other than the woman of the house come to torment him with some complaint or another. He hadn’t expected Watson. Watson was out of reach these days though that was mostly Holmes’ doing; he had pushed away. It happened little by little, an unconscious choice that would make the loss of a friend, his only friend, much easier to cope with.

Moody was the best description of his present state though currently he looked to be actively involved in some great task. It meant nothing better than he either had a case that required the work or had been at his old vices and indulged in cocaine again. It may have taken him longer than necessary but the familiar gait stirred a memory. “Watson,” he announced without looking and instead pouring the contents of the glass container onto a light colored cloth on the table. “Giving up married life already? I warned you over it but I won’t have you back. Miss Morstan,” he started, straightening his posture to finally peer through the darkness at his lost friend, “…Mrs. Watson shouldn’t allow it.” There was a vague smile pulling at his lips but it seemed incapable of taking complete shape. “You enjoyed the trip, I take it?” His attention was scattered in his present state, more focused on his work than any individual, and he glanced at it once before being pulled by compulsion back to it. “What brings you about?”

(John/Sherlock.  Warning: Drug abuse)
Had it been any brighter in the space, Holmes might have been capable of better discerning a look of skepticism that went over the face of the doctor. With Mrs. Hudson bustling around so feverishly it seemed very unlikely that Holmes would consider shooting without questioning. Then again, according to the poor landlady her tenant had become excessively reclusive. Watson had taken his eyes off of Holmes for a few weeks and he was threatening to shoot before questioning? Was that really characteristic of his overly inquisitive partner? Ex-partner -- it was all rather confusing at the moment as to what they actually were. "Is that paranoia?" he questioned, managing to erase the humor out of his voice.

For having been absent, Watson found it surprisingly easy to maneuver the room as though he'd never left it. The first obligation he was to undertake was to draw back the fabric that presently blocked out any light that Holmes was attempting to avoid. "How many times must I tell you not to sit about in the dark?" It was simple falling back into scolding Holmes in a manner that would create very little impression with the detective. The moment Holmes struck into one of his moods he would back in the dark or if Watson wasn't there to insist on the light. Watson wasted no time now in flooding the room with a brightness it had probably not seen in days (though he feared it may have been weeks). "And yes, I have actually come to reprimand you as you are clearly in need of it."

The unusually excited speech didn't go unnoticed it just went temporarily unmentioned. Watson removed his hat as he took a moment to glance down at the street. This felt more comfortable to him than residing with Mary, this view was so familiar that there was something calming about it even in the chaotic assault of questions from Holmes. Most of those questions he was going to bypass unless they were better contained or focused. For now, he turned his attention back into the room. "When was the last case you took? The last visitor you had, for that matter?" Watson knew the first answer -- at least he was fairly certain he did -- and could make a fair assessment about the second.

Watson carefully removed the coat as if that were some indication of the length of his stay and draped it neatly over one arm. They were so strangely contrasted; the pair of them. Watson couldn't tolerate any sort of disorder even on his person and Holmes was content to sit about in his ratty robe that had certainly been around for as long as Watson could remember. As if to prove their difference in attention to dress, he pulled and straightened the cuffs of his shirt, and made sure there was complete order. "Better still: explain why my former landlady finds you terrifying enough to request my assistance."

Harry Potter

What's Done is Done
(Pansy/Oliver.  Time: Post-War.  Warnings: TBD)
Afternoons, especially late afternoons when the sun was out, generally showed a slowing in productivity. The mad rushing of the morning had dwindled and even the office chat had dulled into a low hum. Employees moved sluggishly, most were caught in a day dream that their morning coffee had failed to prevent as the caffeine dwindled in their systems. It was almost like a repeat of the zombie mornings minus the crisp possibilities that an early hour often brought to the populace. Even the tyrannical rule of Myna Parkinson had ended some hours ago as she slammed her office door shut and had not emerged since – no one dared try to enter.

The departure of her mother from the floor prompted the young woman to emerge from her own office. The memos she’d been sending as a form of communication to her secretary had retaliated on the poor stout woman by dive bombing her while she crouched under her desk, flailing her shoe at them as her wand was just out of reach in a pencil cup on her desk. The school-like note passing had been necessary in the past few days as Mrs. Parkinson had targeted her daughter specifically over the marriage law and had several times been on the verge of titling her a traitor. Pansy being the only immediate family remaining was the girl’s only salvation from hearing that disgusting word.

Now, Pansy felt it was safe though she made no effort to help her secretary. Her jade eyes passed over the desk of her secretary and while this situation normally would have struck her as highly entertaining she found it impossible to even crack a smile and moved past with what appeared to be a blank indifference. The destination was another office across the floor to pick up the photos that would be put into the newest issue of the magazine. Unfortunately, the wisp of a creature was gone for the day and Pansy was confronted with a closed door and the photos neatly held to the door with a weak sticking charm.

Her lips pursed and she tore them away from the door, leaning one shoulder against the wall, and going through the little collection. Pansy’s dark hair was kept long enough, that when she looked down as she was, could hide her face. It conveniently blocked out the look of utter annoyance she had. Throughout the morning she’d been distracted with the annoyance that was Oliver Wood. She hadn’t even come into physical contact with her yet and he was causing more trouble than he was undoubtedly worth. There was a considerable lack of focus thanks to him and that was the only reason she remained past her typical work hours.

Bottled and Shelved
(OC/M.  Time: Trio-era.  Warnings: TBD)
A week had passed since the return to school: the start of sixth year. It had begun pleasant enough with a fond farewell from family, promises to write, and the usual nonsense that accompanied a goodbye that would last until the holiday. That day the weather had been a bit cool but it was sunny and cloudless. Unfortunately, the weather had taken a turn and majority of the days spent on classes the rain had been relentless. It made the grounds muddy and dangerous, a slippery adventure for anyone that dared walk out into the elements -- very few people did aside from Quidditch players and students that needed to get to Care of Magical Creatures or Herbology. By the third day there was a restlessness in classrooms as the students, already confined by being trapped indoors, shuffled their feet, fidgeted, and found distractions as they sat at their desks. Anything to break up the monotony of another dreary day... On Friday, they were in luck and the sun came out. Everything outside was still soaked but that didn't stop the younger years from going outside, many of them slipping accidentally and dragging down friends in the process making them a muddy mess.

Looking like some mud monster that had crawled out of the Forbidden Forest could wait for another day. A perfected drying spell on a stone bench and Silvanus had found it an adequate place to take up residence to act as though reading the book in front of him was the important thing in all the world. Another boy had sat next to him facing the opposite direction and watching a group of second years levitate clumps of dirt and hit each other until a professor came slipping and sliding over to stop them and take points away from individuals that seemed to have been the source of the little battle. "Afternoon, Price. Read the Prophet lately?" The boy that had sat down without invitation had wild red hair that looked like it had been subjected to electricity. He waited a moment, glanced at Silvanus who was very blonde in contrast and currently ignoring him, before going on. "Saw that bit about your brother. That's a shame. Imagine you'll follow suit?"

Reading the same word repeatedly several times was taxing when someone so irritating was speaking to him and the blonde finally looked up. The expression was nothing but blank, nothing readable in the dark green eyes. "No," he responded hollowly. "I shouldn't think I'd follow a traitor. That is what you're asking isn't it; if I'd join a rebel lot of miscreants and foolishly defy the Ministry?" The Ravenclaw returned to staring at the words on the page. "I wouldn't be so idiotic. Unless you've something important to say, Harwood, I suggest you get back to your little gaggle of lackeys." Indeed, in the corner of the yard stood several Slytherins trying to inconspicuously stare at the happenings between their friend and their... well, not enemy per say. Silvanus was an oddity.

The boy, Harwood, sat there almost stupidly for a few seconds before it occurred to him to grab the book away without any warning. He stood, held it up for the others to see, and turned toward the pale boy, walking backward and dangling the book out as if trying to lure some creature into a trap. A cheer had gone up from the other boys and they began ambling forward, mindful of the precarious ground they were walking on. "Come on, Silas, admit you're in pieces about it. That's your brother that's been sent to Azkaban. Ruining the family name and all. You've got to have some feelings about it."

Almost as soon as the book had been taken, Silvanus had jumped to his feet and had watched with narrowed eyes as it was waved like a trophy; an undeserved victory prize. Tension had built up in his chest and his movement around the bench felt stiff from resisting the urge to attack the other boy. "I was very clear with you about my feelings on the matter." Somehow he managed to keep his voice even, cold even. "The choices made were idiotic and I have no desire to repeat them -- give me the book." It became very apparent that one of two things could result from their interactions: Harwood would relent and turn the book over or some sort of altercation would draw the attention of another professor and they'd be dealt with that way. Silvanus let out a measured breath and held his hand out to reclaim a book that was obviously not going to be given over to him. What a wonderful way to enjoy the first nice day since the start of term.

Take Heart Again
(OC/M Death Eater.  Time: Trio-era AU.  Warnings: Violence.)
Dim candlelight was difficult to see by and she managed to knock something from the desk, hitting it with her elbow. It was vital to remain in such poor lighting though, even with the wards and charms thrown up around the house. The structure had to appear void of life, vacant. It was anything but vacant. It was frequently used by Death Eater's passing through the area or for meetings but it was never a permanent place of business. The business of evil never sat still. It was in perpetual motion because evil was not the dominating force in the world. It was constantly being chased about by the forces of good. That was why the dawn always chased away the shadows of night in those story books. The villains of the world were cowards running and it was wise of them to run.

Wisteria muttered a curse under her breath as she shoved the drawer shut and crouched down in the flickering light of a few short and unreliable candles. Whatever she'd knocked into had to be around somewhere close to her feet. Hands groped for it as her pale eyes strained to see in the thick shadow. "Where are you?" she muttered to the object before her hand settled on what felt to be a sphere of some sort. A crystal ball? That seemed archaic. She didn't really believe in prophecy and fortune-telling. It seemed like an outdated practice that didn't take into consideration the free-will of a human and their ability to make choices not associated with their character.

Sitting back on her legs she held the clear ball up and tried to see something other than the distorted images on the other side of the room. Nothing. A lopsided smirk was produced from the confirmation that it just didn't work. Then she heard it. The sound like someone was approaching and the look fell from her face. The ball was quietly set back down on the floor and she produced her wand as she got to her feet. It might have helped to cast 'lumos' but that would have drawn attention to what she was doing. Had someone been in the house and she simply hadn't noticed? Was that even possible?

Apparently. As she neared the door to the room a voice stretched out through the dark and there was a faint light which was only due to wand-light. No one but Death Eaters could get past those wards without making a racket and alerting the house. Well, them and someone who was very good at what they were doing. She held firmly the wand in her hand, her lips pursed with indecision. Finally, bravery won out and she muttered, "Lumos." The light seeping out into the hall and being a telling sign of her location.

It wasn't necessary to track her down as she stepped out from the doorway, her features lit by the wand. To Death Eaters, Wisteria was one of them. It seemed as though she had simply come into existence one day and never departed. That was a ridiculous notion but it made most of them suspicious even after three years of faithful service. "I didn't know anyone else was here," she stated curtly.  She stared at him critically. The look would mask her dismay in the distorted light. "How long have you been here?" What was implied was 'how long have you been here without my knowing.'

Nothing Broken
(Draco/M or F.  Time: Trio-era AU.  Warnings: TBD.)
Summer had been long and arduous. The weather had been agreeable enough but it felt as though the situation that had been brewing for the entirety of his school years was pulling things together and dragging them apart simultaneously. As he stood on the platform staring fixedly at the train, Draco was both aware of the business going on around him and removed from it. He didn't move, just stood near the trunk of his belongings in a sort of catatonic way. In the periphery of ice gray eyes he could see the younger children scampering frantically about; making incessant racket that grated on his nerves. Pansy even had the gall to edge up to him and whisper her greeting in what she surely thought was a seductive tone.

At least with her at his side it would be impossible to dwell on the goings on of his personal life and the platinum blond quirked an eyebrow at her while she repressed a grin of delight. "Come on, Parkinson. We have better things to do than stand here chatting -- if that's what you'd call what you'd just said to me." The tone was flat enough to wipe the look of pleasure off of Pansy's face and she settled back into a sneer of annoyance. That was familiar. He could appreciate it because after years of yanking her emotions through mud they had settled into something of an understanding: Draco would insult and belittle her most of the time and be kind when it was convenient to him. Pansy silently agreed to the terms though she didn't like them. What choice did she have? Draco didn't display an ounce of compassion for anyone, ever, without an agenda behind it.

After everything was packed away in the train and they had found Crabbe and Goyle it then that they struck out to find others that they associated, to get out of the mass of inferior creatures crawling about in search of places to sit. Thankfully it didn't take long to find the compartment that contained someone they associated with. Or, at least, Crabbe and Goyle assumed it was acceptable to associate with and they lumbered inside followed by Pansy who already looked as though she was on her guard but attempting neutrality and Draco who wore no expression whatsoever. They arranged themselves in their seats.  Crabbe and Goyle never separating, Pansy resigned to sitting next to them, and Draco next to the one they had intruded upon. "Nice seeing you again," Pansy commented as though she was surprised the student had survived the summer for some reason. "Enjoyed your summer?"

Why was it that girls felt the need to overcompensate for their dislike of other living creatures? Draco leaned into the corner. It wasn't his dislike, it was just a comfortable position to survey the people he was traveling with. Crabbe and Goyle seemed incapable of understanding Pansy's venom and this brought a smirk onto Draco's face. "You know she isn't really interested, right? She just doesn't want to disrupt the precarious and, as of yet, undetermined hierarchy of this term," Draco explained to them perfunctorily. It was going to be a miracle that the two of them should survive once they were not under the care of their leader.

Draco's eyes rolled away from the boys and settled on their little friend just as Pansy's face flushed. "I'm sure everyone will fall back into their places. Don't you think? No use attempting any social climbing this late in the game." They had always been in competition but Draco was better at disguising his contempt than Pansy was, at least in his inflection. The words sounded as though they might be equals but he would never stand for that. That was unsteady ground to be walking on as there was no advantage in his favor. Really, they could never be equals.

At a Loss
(Hermoine/M.  Time: Post-War AU. Warnings: Violence, NC)
It had been hours since the last shade of blue was erased from the sky and even longer still since the sun had gone beyond the horizon. For the time of year, it was cold with a bitter wind that came in gusts through the streets of London. Despite the night, lamps kept a good majority of the streets lit as bright as - well - late evening. Some however were nothing more than black voids that would swallow a person whole if they were brave enough and so inclined to venture down them. The daytime noise had gradually faded as the night came on and the twilight sounds were similar but also notably different. The sounds people made at night were muted, muffled by some golden rule that told them the darkness meant a sort of quiet or deserved a certain reverence. It was like the whole world was holding its breath waiting to be surprised by the monster under the bed.

The late hour finally brought Hermione out onto the streets. She had spent a good deal of the day writing and petitioning and generally in disagreement with the Ministry; sometimes the rules and red tape were hopelessly frustrating - in the end necessary. It was quite the walk from her flat to the inconspicuous building. It would have been faster to take the Knight Bus but a paranoia had sunk in to her being. The Ministry had been edgy lately though, as usual, they were keeping the public calm and unaware. Certainly, wizard transportation would have been safe but really, was it? After her school adventures nothing really seemed safe, especially if the Ministry was being hush-hush about things. She'd even wrote to Harry, inquired about the situation and still found herself without answers. Voldemort had been gone for a year and the world was lulled into a blanket of security; no wizard could possess that sort of power again, not for a long time.

Hermione clutched the letters she had received as the cold air rushed passed her, ruffling her hair and freezing her hands. The letters were responses from around Europe of peculiar happenings and the people potentially behind the trouble. If anything, they were going to be read in the privacy of her own flat where she was safe, secure, and not under the curious eyes of others. The brown eyes gazed up at the sky, straining to see through the city lights. It was a moonless night, starless if she was seeing things properly - a storm was coming. She picked up her pace, holding her letters firmly to her chest as if they were the things that needed protecting from the unnatural summer weather.

Butterfly Effect
(Seamus/M.  Time: Post-War AU.  Warnings: TBD)
Three members of the D.A. were gone. That was approximately three too many when the war was supposed to be over and Harry was supposed to have saved the Wizarding world. It seemed lately like there was a great deal of loose ends just drifting about in the breeze since Voldemort fell - this was some sort of vendetta.

Dumbledore's Army had reassembled in a way. Everyone was in contact and a meeting had been held, matters had been discussed, and orders had been given out; it was all very official. Seamus had found it all very proper and serious; which it was but in the end left with a very bad taste in his mouth. How he had wound up to be the one tracking down this particular Death Eater was beyond him as it seemed like a fool's errand. Everyone was already up in arms about the situation so he was making a point of preparing for the worst.

It had been raining all week. How the roads weren't all flooded was something of a miracle. The witches and wizards moved idly about their business with hoods thrown up over their heads to protect themselves against the elements. Seamus had followed suit and was using it partly as a disguise as by now the cold had bitten through the fabric and was presently gnawing on his bones. It wasn't safe to go out alone if you were once a member or still an active member of the D.A. Along with other official business it had been decided that traveling in pairs was the only way around things and to spare more lives.

On good authority (namely, he'd been following him about for a few days), he knew that Draco frequently went about this street. That's what he was waiting for. Sure, he'd caught glimpses of the former Slytherin earlier in the week before the meeting had begun but aside from this little bit of information he'd gathered there was nothing more he honestly knew.

Seamus had been out of touch with London the moment school let out and everyone else wanted nothing more than to forget about the Death Eaters that got away thanks very much to Harry. Needless to say, he wasn't thrilled to be standing in the cold rain, one frozen hand hidden under his cloak wrapped firmly yet numbly about his wand. This was going to be a disaster; with his teeth already chattering he could tell.

(Narcissa/Lucius.  Time: First War.  Warnings: TBD)
Cold air seeped in from the open window of a dark bedroom. By now the room was frigid as the heat had run frantic from the confines as quickly as it could manage and nothing of the previous warmth remained. The gray dawn light spread across the floor and over the motionless objects, seeking to banish the night from every corner before the sun had a chance to break the horizon and find traces of the dark. Positioned on the wrong end of the bed, the blond hair cascading out about her in a moment of unguarded carelessness, Narcissa's pale, slender frame rested motionless. Some time during the night she had sat down on the vacant bed, stopped her worrying of her hands, and persistent pacing only to slip off into an uncomfortable sleep. Not even the cold air was enough to keep her up as she'd exhausted herself from silently fretting and a persistent tension her muscles that would not evaporate.

Every breath she took now was measured and calm; her only sign of life until a distantly familiar voice penetrated the edge of dreaming. She shifted, her eyes reluctant to open in a moment of disoriented irritation, and then the reality of life returned. Lucius had been away and when he did leave her and their son it was a point of annoyance to her which she expressed in glib comments because underlying that negative outward show was an anxiety that was unfathomable to her. Willing putting her family in danger, willingly putting her husband in danger... Narcissa understood the purpose of it, saw that to preserve what they believed in it was necessary, but it didn't make accepting it easier.

In an instant she was up and listening for the voice again, holding her breath and shivering. The temporarily quelled nervousness was moving into her stomach again, taking up a permanent residence it would seem, it prompted her to rise and open the door. It wasn't certain that her hand shook because of the air or anticipation when she reached for the knob. What was certain was she couldn't allow herself to focus on trivial things like that.

The rest of the manor was warm, more inviting than the bedroom and the contrast was shocking to her body. Certainly, she hadn't imagined footsteps and Narcissa stood frozen momentarily trying to find some composure despite the innocently vulnerable way she held herself after waking up alone. "Lucius," she breathed in relief, not above a whisper, at the first sight of him appearing from the stairs. Tension fled from her and she was capable of moving toward him more quickly than she should have if she was still trying to feign anger with him for insisting on going out on these late night missions.

Not Compatible
(Hermione/Pansy.  Time: Trio-era AU.  Warnings: TBD)
In all her years in school, even after teaming up with the most reckless boys in the entirety of the Wizarding World, Hermione Granger had never been in more trouble than she was during her sixth year. It was infuriating and demeaning, to say the very least. That was the reason for the look of shame that was painted all over her face as the pair of them were dismissed by the Gryffindor head of house -- of all people! Her head was kept low to hide the scarlet coloring on her cheeks. The hair she had forced into proper order acted as a curtain to mask the frustration. She could have kicked a wall and not felt any better for it.

If Parkinson had stopped bickering with her and used whatever common sense was lurking around in her addled head she might have considered that Draco Malfoy was of no interest to a best friend of Harry Potter. Even if she wasn't a friend of Harry's there was nothing remotely inviting about Malfoy. He was about as charming as a dead Nargle. It was ludicrous that they even had to fight over it... over him. She had a good mind to confess to the puggy-faced bint the entire situation. That wouldn't have gone over well so they were reduced to squabbling and the inevitable detention that followed such stupid antics.

Hermione's lips were pursed, pressed together to keep her mouth from running away from her. If only she had been more careful with the Time-Turner she wouldn't have lost it to Malfoy to begin with. Dumbledore warned her and there was a failure to obey. Now she not only had school to get through and Voldemort to worry over but was sneaking around doing work for the son of a known Death Eater! Perfect. Not to mention his loony girlfriend was out to get her and Malfoy had stated very clearly that he was amused by it. Slytherins were disturbed.
As she carefully shut the door, sure that it would make the minimum amount of noise not to upset an already annoyed McGonagall, and turned to face the hall, her head lifted to see where she was heading. Abruptly she stopped with wide, surprised eyes. The expression of alarm didn't make it to the rest of her features as she was irate enough to prevent it. Not again... Automatically, Hermione rolled her eyes off to the side but she was forced to right herself once it became clear that Pansy was advancing.

Tension radiated out of her, restraint. The hall, from what she could see was empty. The students were elsewhere: classes, eating, studying. They were alone for the time being and that was never a good thing. Pansy looked just as miffed as she had been that first day she'd spotted Hermione with Malfoy. In truth, she looked almost murderous. That wasn't an excuse for the Gryffindor to back away. She squared her shoulders and stood her ground looking almost defiant though there didn't seem to be a decent reason for it.

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Taken/Retired/Not Available

After Midnight M/F
Keria escaped the confines of an unhappy existence.  Her escape from it however, landed her in a greater deal of trouble with nature than she'd intended.  The wolves she's encountered surrounded and the limited knowledge of the stolen sword wasn't going to save her.  The wild creatures she had encountered happened to be werewolves and one decided to take an interest in her and claim her.  Now does she run or stay from this new life?
( Probably non-con, general violence, D/s, potential bestiality, and the rest is TBD. )

Altered Perception M/M
Mutants became lab experiments and collector's items.  They lost the majority of their human rights some ten years ago.  Ciardha spent the majority of his time behind glass, sedated, or both due to the unique nature of his mutation, which permits him to get into the minds of those around him and influence their reality.  Proving to be an impossible subject to accurately study, he's acquired by a man with enough knowledge of Ciardha's tricks to block out a good deal of the invasive illusions.  It becomes the start of an interesting, if not difficult, relationship.
(Modern. Alternate reality.  Warnings: D/s, bondage. Other warnings TBD.)

The Meaning of War M/F
The village is attacked in the middle of the night by an enemy.  Sora and the rest of her family are awake in time to fight a losing battle.  The women and children that have survived are taken as prisoners to be sold as slaves once they reach the city.  The leader of the enemy army takes an interest in Sora, intent on making her his toy at least until they've reached the city.  Along the way, anything could happen.
(Non-con, bondage, bloodplay, violence.  Fantasy world.  Possibly character death.  Trying to keep it as realistic as possible including character interaction.)

Blood Jewel M/M or M/F
In 1919 a lost blood jewel (a supernatural artifact) reappeared in the possession of a ten year old girl in England. Since her questionable death the object of unrealized power has gone missing again. The demon that plagued the young child was supposedly attempting to reclaim it for nefarious purposes. The jewel and the demon disappeared shortly after her demise, only to turn up again in the present day when the object was found again.
The absence of the jewel from its rightful place has done significant damage to the borders protecting earth from the afterlife. Creatures both good and evil are beginning to seep into the natural world where the cracks are opening. Strange events have been taking place: plagues reemerging to wipe out towns, an odd assortment of people incapable of dying, horrible creatures roaming the streets at night, great miracles saving the lives of hundreds... But the balance will eventually tip, and the jewel, capable of granting so much power, may be the deciding factor.
(Based a little off of Constantine, Lord of the Rings, and a few other things. It's long-term and will either be character- or plot-driven. The demon character is mine, I've had him for a long while now. One of his introductions can be found in the "Introductions" section under "A Walking Shadow." The warnings? TBD. Anything else: don't hesitate to ask!)

Entangled M/F
The failing health of her father meant Alyth would need a husband or risk bringing war down on the kingdom and its people. Except she had denied every man that came before her until there was no choice. Behind her back the king signed his daughter away to a man of noble birth who could protect the kingdom. She had seen him at court, observed him in passing, but never considered him as more than a curiosity. Perhaps they were meant to fall in love though their first introduction would be on their wedding day, or perhaps their marriage would spark a war between them.
(I wasn't sure how I was feeling about this, whether I wanted it to be a romance or something darker so I left it open-ended. Warnings: TBD )

Killers Like Us M/M
The vampire lived and killed for thousands of years.  His typical motif tended toward the young and innocent which was how he was lured in by the organization bent on studying and dissecting him.  Unfortunately, it's all a game and the hunter assigned to this particular case will either end up dead or live long enough to find out what being a vampire is really like.
(Preferably long-term, fantasy, violence, NC, a lot of blood involved... the usual.  Possibly death.  Please by my vampire.)
  • The Last M/F
    Roziel grew up in a family of professional killers. When she sinks her claws into him it seems her one goal is to completely shatter the assassin until he's willing to serve her purposes, whatever they may be.
    (Warnings: TBD. This line requires a dominant female character as Roziel is mine.)
Bound Together M/F
Crysanthe is a bubbly, sassy seventeen year old cousin of a young prince.  When he comes of age it’s the intention of their parents that she be given as a gift to keep him content after he is married to the princess of a neighboring kingdom.  In the meantime, she is free to roam the palace as she sees fit.  That’s how she stumbles upon the newest slave: a male brought in from the forest (and in her opinion, quite exotic in appearance).  She often comes to tease and mock him as a pretense to be in his company.  The sexual tension is apparent even despite their apparent loathing.  When the thief escapes his bonds one night he stumbles across Crysanthe and must decide to take or leave her.
(Preferably long-term, fantasy, romance, possibly NC and other things.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

In Ruins M/F
Rebecca was born in 1603 to a poor family that spent their days in the service of the wealthy.  In 1613, Rebecca fell in love with the male heir of said wealthy family. It wasn't until 1626 that that same boy, now a young man, scorned her affections and fell in love with a woman of the appropriate social status.  Hurt beyond reason, Rebecca cursed her love to exist as a vampire.  After he slaughtered his bride-to-be in an unfortunate moment, Rebecca had him entombed but he has recently escaped that prison and the two collide again in the present century.
(Modern fantasy.  Angsty love story.  --curse you Dark Shadows for making me want this.-- Warnings: TBD.)

Neverland M/M
Peter and James had been at odds for years, and Wendy's death came as a harsh blow to the Lost Boys.  But, the tipping point came when one of Tiger Lily's own gave away the location of the boys and several of the younger sort were killed.  It prompted Peter Pan's return from the real world and a battle was staged against James Hook with deadly consequences.  Not as light hearted as it once was Neverland was thrust into darkness as the blood of the corrupt and the innocent spilled on the same ground.  It seemed as if they would go on that way until none were left to fight... until James caught his nemesis, intent on breaking what will remained of the now eighteen year old Pan.
(Peter is my preference. Fantasy. Ability to play multiple characters. Probably non-con, general violence, and the rest is TBD. )
  • Till Morning M/F
    There was no telling how, but Wendy made it back to Neverland.  The girl had grown into a bold young woman with a spark inside of her.  Unfortunately, Peter had nothing to do with her return.  In desperation Tink had turned Wendy over to the crew of the Jolly Roger.  Though Hook had ceased to be a threat, there were always those willing to take his place, and all of Neverland knew of Wendy and her sway over the Lost Boys.  Said new captain could slay the girl or destroy her little by little and let Peter himself kill her when she no longer has the purity and kindness he admired.
    (Fantasy.  Ability to play multiple characters. It wouldn't take any convincing to make it Tink instead of Wendy.  Warnings: Probably non-con, general violence, and the rest is TBD.)

Innocent M/F
In places long forgotten and overgrown with weeds, the remains to structures still exist.  Great buildings constructed in a time of hope or prosperity.  One such place sits in the midst of the forest, just beyond the town.  There rests the remnants of the cathedral; shrouded in ivy and overlooking the crumbling tombstones.  Thea spent her whole existence trapped within those grounds until a man came and ensnared the ethereal woman with black wings.  Regardless of her origins, mythical creatures fetch a high price, particularly for something as untarnished as Thea who appears more wild thing than human despite her appearance.
(Fantasy.  Warnings: TBD.)

Monsters M/F
Io hunts monsters.  She's short-tempered, hard to get along with, and isn't easily deterred.  Even alone, faced with a demon, she isn't inclined to back down.  It would have been the death of her if some infuriating monster hadn't intervened and saved her life without asking.  Whether he wants her as a pet or is simply one of those good-deed-doing creatures, she isn't having any of it.  It's her job to kill each and every last supernatural being.
(Preferably long-term, fantasy post-apocalyptic, violence.  Other things.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Ever After M/F
Once, the land was ruled fairly, kindly.  Death cures all happiness and the kingdom was thrust into famine, poverty, and darkness -- the king had breathed his last.  The prince that ascended had a dark heart.  His sister, young then, was locked away for years as her brother's power grew.  Finally, the day came when the young woman escaped away to a neighboring kingdom. Disguised, she found work in the castle, enchanting a young man there that would soon be ruler of his own country. Unfortunately, he was not king yet, and his father wanted no quarrel with his neighbors.
(Fantasy. A lot of different things could happen in this line.  She could be sent back to her brother; could convince the boy to kill his father and ascend to fight her brother; they could run away)

Endangered M/F
The dense forest near the ocean’s coast is populated by giant white tigers and an assortment of other beasts whose furs and bones bring in profit for those that would dare hunt in the maze of woods.  It is also home to a small population of elves – once hunted for their exotic appearance but now most assume they’ve been wiped out.  On such elf, Anemone, is caught in a hunter’s live-trap with no escape.  The hunter must decide how to handle the wild creature: set her free, claim her, or sell her to the highest bidder.  Of course, he does have to get out of the forest with her first and she knows the land infinitely better than he.
(Fantasy, possible romance, bondage.)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Independent Study M/F
Coco is college freshman, a sorority girl, and has fallen into the trap of having too much fun at school.  She's a snarky, spoiled tease that has very little regard for anyone.  When she falls asleep in class again, her professor asks that she stay afterward to discuss her slipping grade.  Really, he's been watching her all semester, tolerating her bratty remarks until there was a reason to be alone with her.  Now, Coco's professor has every intention of teaching her how to behave.
(Non-con, bondage, D/s. Can be elaborated on or one-shot.)

Web M/F
January doesn't get her allowance from her parents.  She dresses up in naughty outfits, flips on her webcam, and strips.  On occasion she chats with fans and generous patrons.  Lately, she's been chatting with someone, even doing private sessions just for him.  When they meet up in person one night he drugs her, takes her back home, sets up his own webcam and does all of the things to her that her audience really wanted to see.
(Warnings:  TBD.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Good Girl M/F
Britney's parents had not been getting along.  It wasn't clear to her why they separated other than their stupid, incessant fighting.  After a fight with her mom, she runs away to her father's house and lonely as he is, he can't help but take advantage of his little girl who is developing so nicely into a hot young woman.
(Warnings: Incest.  Other warnings TBD.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Sold F/F or M/F
A cute, naive girl, Misa would have no idea that someone had been watching her.  She didn't know that someone she knew would kidnap her and sell her to a foreign business man or that she'd wake up in a bed in a city she didn't recognize to be used in whatever fashion her new husband saw fit.
(Warnings: TBD.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

  • Currency Exchange (Alternative to Sold) M/F
    Alaina was seventeen and taking her first trip abroad.  After being there for three days she got the courage to go out.  She didn't expect to be drugged or to wake up in a different country than she had started in.  In the other room the sound of voices were making some sort of trade where she was one of the bartered items.
    (Warnings: Kidnapping.  TBD)
    Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Gray Lines M/F
Charity was a good girl.  She got good grades, she loved her family, and she was devoted to her friends.  Sometimes good people end up in bad situations.  He was never the good guy; definitely no one’s prince or knight in shining armor.  In fact, he was a killer, an assassin for hire.  That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want her.  When he kidnaps her he plans to teach her to be a killer too and suddenly she finds herself an accomplice to murder – not to mention in a frighteningly dangerous world of bad men with low morals where the lines between right and wrong aren’t so clear.
(Modern, assassins.  Violence, kidnapping, bloodshed, NC, .  Other warnings TBD.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Showdown F/F
Moira works for a government agency.  Cute and harmless in appearance she’s a quick and efficient killer.  No energy can be wasted on battles she’s too small to win.  Her enemy is a freelance assassin, a tomboy that prefers the fight.  Three years ago they met, only moments after Moira had killed one of the other woman’s employers.  The two fought and Moira was shoved out a window.  Now the other woman is assigned the perfect job: deliver Moira to an opposing country.  Moira isn’t going peacefully, and besides for the hostility they share there’s something else there.
(Alternate reality, modern, assassins.  Violence, bloodshed.  Other warnings TBD.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Into the Dark M/F
Persephone gave up everything to save the home she loved.  She surrendered her life with her family to be taken away to a city full of the corrupt.  The clothes, the manners, the vile politics were all new to her as she innocently bumbled her way through high society.  If it wasn't for him protecting her, the man that had taken her as compensation, she would have perished.  But, now she belongs to him and if she's unable to melt his heart they may both perish.
(Preferably long-term, fantasy, Beauty and the Beast-ish.  Other warnings TBD.)
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Dreams M/F or F/F
Ashley was a spoiled brat and she continued to be a spoiled brat on the day of her seventeenth birthday.  That night she hosted a wild party, had too much to drink, and passed out in her bed wearing just her bra and panties.  That’s when he comes in and finds her; bra strap slipped down over her shoulder and legs spread no more than a few inches apart but wide enough.
(Warnings: Potential incest, non/dub con.)

  • Daydreams (Alternative to Dreams) M/F
    While Ashley was unconscious in her room, her brother and his friends took their video into her room.  At first it was simply awkward shots of his sister sleeping but then her brother started touching her, then pulling her clothes to show the camera and his encouraging friends more, he was free enough to grope and fondle her, rub himself against her.  When she responds in her sleep he’ll have to decide on his next step
    (Warnings: TBD.)
    Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Come away, O human child F/F
At war, the elves and fairies have suffered a series of wins and losses over the past five years.  While the elves began to inhabit the cities, the fairies were forced to remain as lower class citizens and were banished to the forests and glades.  There are some rebels that fight back; that infiltrate the cities; that steal children and murder the careless adults.  As a new king ascends the thrown a plan is devised to murder the woman he is to marry and accuse the humans.  However, the fairy woman sent to assassinate the new queen hesitates and becomes torn between killing the other woman or taking her away to the forest to find another use for her.
(Preferably long-term, fantasy, violence, NC, potential romance)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Mark Me M/F
Ria clawed her way to the top of the high school hierarchy.  In her senior year she gets what she wants despite the cost to others.  She's the bad girl that doesn't get caught, a teacher's pet, and two-faced.  The bad news is she doesn't want to waste her final year in a lulled ease so her eyes are set on the boy whose heart she broke when they were younger and she'd like nothing better than to sink her teeth into his boy-next-door personality and destroy it.  So is he going to leave high school with more scars or come out unscathed and having won back the girl he still has buried feelings for?

Claws that Catch F/F
These two girls never got along.  Lisette was the bright, rich girl, and a stickler for rules.  Her counterpart was street-smart, the bad girl, and always looking to make Lisette's life miserable.  Their encounters consisted of a lot of time in detention, fighting, cursing, and general loathing.  All of that hostility was hiding something and once the bad girl figured it out she made a plan to corner Lisette and show her exactly what that something was.
(This could use some more plotting or not depending on the player. Questionable consent. )

Love and War  F/F
Every day news came of the certain invasion of France by Germany.  Adrienne never expected to meet a German actress, never expected to find herself having unexpected feelings for her, and never thought of what would become of them once the Germans had taken Paris.
(Needs more plotting or less plotting depending on the person.  Anyway, World War II setting.)

January's a Bad Month
January's a Bad Month
(MxF.  Modern, Realistic.  A series of ideas based around one character.  Feel free to pick and choose or we can do them all.  Warnings: TBD )

  • The neighborhood babysitter, January was always known to be a responsible, good girl. In fact, his family had utilized her services in the past. However, he knew she couldn't be all nice. He managed to persuade her to come over with the promise of alcohol and a family-free house. With a little encouragement, he'll see that the sweet sixteen year old isn't as innocent as she acts. He might even film it for later proof and blackmail.
  • January liked it a little rough and she liked being told what to do. After breaking up with her boyfriend a rumor spread around school just how much she liked those particular things. He had every intention of taking full advantage of her. The first task was getting her to school in a skirt and having her wherever he could including empty rooms, an office, a locker room, and bathroom. And if she was particularly well behaved, he might let his friends watch, maybe even participate.
  • As a single dad, he obviously needed help. He didn't expect the recommended babysitter to look like January. It started with a little touch, innocent, maybe accidental against her breast, her ass, her thigh. And maybe she bent down in front of him, accidentally pushing her firm little ass against his hardening cock. But it was up to him to find out whether it was really an accident or not.

In Nomine... M/F, maybe F/F
The late 1700s.  Claire is the daughter of a duke and she has been sheltered more than anyone else in her social circle of gossiping harpies.  Naive, she's easily manipulated by the priest of the church her family attends.  Of course, the family could hardly suspect anything and her mother more than encourages her to spend her time in prayer.  They remain blissfully unaware of the danger she's in.  The only one with the vaguest idea of her plight is an officer in the King's Navy, a man that had saved her once from a thief, a man that her family detests because of his age difference to her and Claire's fondness for him.  Is good or evil going to be the victor?  What's to become of sweet little Claire and her forbidden white knight?  Can he rescue her from danger once more or will he be too late?
(This is a fairly elaborate world dealing with the court, the church, Claire's family, and the navy of the time.  A lot of knowledge about the period isn't necessary just some good old imagination.  The priest or the officer can be played.  Both if there's interest in that.  This can be happily ever after or a tragedy.  )
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Vitiate Anomie M/F
In England at beginning of the nineteenth century Isabella, with no better prospect, has been sent to live as the governess in a country manor. The mother of the family had fallen ill some time ago and remains in deteriorating health, unable to tend to her three children’s educations or run a proper house. It is in this situation Isabella encounters the eldest boy who develops something of an infatuation for her. It wouldn't bode well for either of them should the information be broadcast to the master of the house.
(Warnings: TBD.)

North Star M/F
Veri would lead a better life than that of the dreary existence of her servant's life in London. The girl disguised herself as a male, a not uncommon occurrence, and fled to the port to board a ship. No one could have guessed they would be attacked three days after their departure from the safety of the harbor. Veri was suddenly in a great deal of trouble should the men discover her.
(Potential for romance but not necessary. Also capable of N/C, violence, and a multitude of things. All up for discussion.)
  • Red in the Morning M/F or M/M
    When they landed, they were meant to pillage and burn, leaving nothing in their wake. Except Annaliese was caught in the crossfire; walking home she suddenly found herself surrounded by men with weapons, intent on burning the town to the ground. The girl was suddenly swept up by one of them and when she awoke found herself surrounded by salt water with no trace of land in sight. If it wasn't for the captain, she would have been thrown to the cruel waters or given to the men. Though he was distant, he never allowed her to come to harm.
    (Warnings: TBD. )
Fairytale Ending M/F
Charlotte fell in love.  Unfortunately, that's the not this story.  Charlotte fell in love with the wrong man, one that traded his freedom for hers and trapped her in the home of a creature that rarely even pretended to have human tendencies anymore.  Now she locks her bedroom door at night when the wolves come scratching.  They pose as his comrades, pack, and family but they loathe her.  The only thing standing between her and being shredded to ribbons is the cursed man that keeps her.
(Warnings: Probably non-con, general violence, D/s, potential bestiality, and the rest is TBD.)
Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box

blue envy

Souls owned: Five -- A/A | Lines | O/O | Storage Box