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Am I your cup of tea? Let's find out, shall we?
If you are interested in any of these plots/pairings/settings, please PM me.
Don't post in the comments of the threads, because I rarely check to see if there are posts on this thread.
I'll be much more likely to know of your interest if you message me. Please and thank you!
Also, fair warning, I really don't write on Blue Moon anymore. I still chit chat and socialize here, but I much prefer to write full plays on Elliquiy
Things you should know about me before we dive into plots:
I think it's important to note early on that I have a real variety of interests. I can delve into dark and manipulative characters, as well as romantic and affectionate ones. For me, characters with authentic motivations and truly developed stories are the essential elements of Roleplay. I want to see a character's thought process, the development of ideas, and the unfolding of emotions (whatever they might be), within a setting that allows that process to happen organically. All of the other elements listed below are simply ingredients for flavor in an already wonderful recipe.
I am looking for an assertive, smart, and strong male partner, who knows how to handle a female character who might act strong-willed and feisty, but enjoys nothing more than being controlled by a strong hand and mind, whether she knows it yet or not. That being said, I don't enjoy complete submission, but I definitely don't enjoy playing a dominant character. I'd also prefer to consistently play the younger character. While I enjoy ageplay, it's not something I engage in at all times. Small differences are fine, and all I care about is that the ages are authentic to the story and agreed upon beforehand.
I try to post a reply at least within 1-5 days of receiving your post, at the very least once a week. However, real life loves to throw me for loops (which I wouldn't trade for anything), so if I foresee a long delay between posts, you'll be the first to know. I'll try to do my best to keep you updated as much as possible. I hope you will do the same for me! All you have to do is let me know via message that you're swamped, and I'll wait for you. I will consider our story abandoned if you do not contact me or return any of my messages.
For all my other kinks and preferences, see my ONs and OFFs.
As a general rule, here are the genres/settings/scenarios I enjoy:
Historical Settings: These are the settings I tend to prefer. If you have an idea for a different time period, by all means suggest it! I don't necessarily need to have a historical piece, I just like most non-modern tales.
Here are a few other kinks:
ONs and OFFs Basic List
------------ONs
------------OFFs
- Victorian/Edwardian England
- The Celts, the Scots, the Irish, and all of the British Isles
- WWI
- WWII
- 18th and 19th Century America (Colonial and Civil War)
- The Crusades
- Regency England
- Ancient Rome/Greece
- The Feudal Era (Europe, not Japan)
- The glory of the Russian Empire
- Alternate History and World Building - If you want to develop a world in which to set our stage, I would love to hear about it.
Here are a few other kinks:
- Incest - I have an affection for father x daughter pairings, and I love the emotional turmoil involved
- Ageplay - make a scenario that I think is convincing, please! I love to be a younger character (within reason)
- Low-Fantasy - I'm not against the use of magic in an RP, I just tend to stick to low-fantasy settings. I love scenarios based in a ancient Celtic-like setting, or in Kingdoms shrouded in mystery. I don't do fan-based RP, but think Game of Thrones, if you're looking for a specific reference.
- Military - I include this not because I enjoy playing a military character, but because the historical/low-fantasy settings I play often take place during a time of war. There's something about it that really holds a plot together, hence why I'm including it.
- Romance - I enjoy a romance when there has been tension building and building between the two characters until it finally implodes on itself. I don't want mush. Save that for Disney movies (which I adore, I just don't want to roleplay them).
ONs and OFFs Basic List
------------ONs
- Literacy
- Intelligence (in characters and with regards to story lines)
- Plot-Driven
- Detail, Detail, Detail (with regards to thoughts, not just actions)
- A Strong Male Partner - Assertive
- Romance
- Character Development
- A Wide Variety of Time Periods
- Temptation/Manipulation/Seduction/Teasing
- Rough Sex (Light bondage, slaps, spanks, love bites/marking)
- Ageplay (within reason - nothing below 18)
- Incest
- Risky Places
- Risk of Pregnancy (entirely dependent upon the story)
- Literary Plots (not a plot that fits into a typical vein, but a plot that is unique and makes me think)
------------OFFs
- God-Moding (don't tell me what my character says, please)
- Extreme Fetishes (Vore, Gore, Bathroom Love, Furries, Tentacles)[/color]
- Fan-Based RP
- Playing a Skank of a Character
- Extreme Humiliation
- Multiple Partners
- Extreme Physical Abuse (permanent injuries, torture, etc)
- Female Partners
- Transgenders and Hermaphrodites
Cravings and Tried/True Plot Lines!:
If they're hidden, I'm not feeling super inspired by them at the moment. However, feel free to inquire regardless!
Cry Witch: Tempted or Temptress, Hunter or Hunted
Hana Aislin's fingers were numb as she carried her basket of herbs through the soft layer of snow that coated the forest floor, slowly making her way home in the dim light of early afternoon. The snow had begun to fall the night previous, and Hana had readied herself to venture out the moment it stopped. With the first snow, she knew she was likely to find snowdrop blossoms scattered between the trees, and her stores had grown very low indeed through the fall. The village near her own home was thriving; while disease and pestilence might plague neighboring hamlets, it was Hana's gift with the woods and her knowledge of healing that had encouraged the growth and longevity of life in her village. After years of work, Hana was able to store many of the herbal remedies that she had used tirelessly in her early years as a healer under the guidance of the woman of the wood, Linir. However, one unfortunate side effect of longevity was age, and it was true that the men and women of her village were aging. Many had begun to suffer from sluggish memory, or lapses in spark. With the snowdrop petals and bulbs, Hana could brew a tea that would assist with strengthening the mind, even in the face of an enemy such as age. Along her way, she had collected winterberries and camellias as well, for what good was a forage in winter if she could not acquire all that was useful and available?
Blue Blood: the US Civil War
After the attack on Fort Sumter, men from across Virginia rallied to support that golden Confederate cause which had been solidifying itself over the last century, coming to a head with the election of Abraham Lincoln. Of the first to join ranks and don the grey was Gerald Stevens. He had raised his family in the same plantation he was born in, and he would be damned if some Yank president thought he could take away the sole support of his industry. Little did he know that one member of his family was less than supportive of his Confederate zeal. Anna Stevens was Gerald's eldest daughter. She was a spirited woman, with strong opinions that she worked very hard to guard, particularly on her family's plantation. On the day her father and her older brother left to join ranks, she joined her family and sent the two of them off with enthusiasm and regards for General Lee. That night, however, she sheered her hair short enough to be hidden beneath a cap, stole some trousers from her brother's now empty bedroom, and fled, with regards for Abraham Lincoln. She had a new name, and that was Samuel Johnson, and a new color to wear: blue.
Anna ran through the night, not daring to stop until she was well beyond her county borders. Her lungs were stinging, and her face was bright red with exhaustion when she reached the train station in the neighboring county. She half expected that she would've been accidentally shot as a runaway slave by a hunter with a quick hand and an inflamed sense of patriotism, but somehow she'd managed to run through the night unseen.
After her body stopped protesting against her, she'd regained her composure, her plan racing through her mind. She was unaware what the opinion of her fellow Virginian's to the north were, so she wondered if it would be best to venture even further north to Maryland. Granted, those Virginians who decided to fight for the Union wouldn't want to stay. There was too much southern hate that was just waiting to be tapped into. If she was to hope of success, she needed to get as far away from home as possible, and so she boarded her train north to Maryland. She had been terrified that the trains would've stopped their travel northward, but the fight was still in its earliest stages, and the battle ground had not so clearly been drawn yet.
She barely slept that night, despite the weariness of her body, stowed in the cargo department. The next morning, light filtered in and woke her, but they were still moving. It was at least another day before she dared check her location. They had stopped in western Virginia to pick up a shipment of coal, and were currently in Cumberland, unloading another shipment of cotton. If her intuition was right, as well as her ability to eavesdrop, they were stopping in Hub City next: Hagerstown, Maryland. That's where she'd get off, and that's where she'd find a recruitment center.
She followed that plan, slipping free of her hiding place as they pulled into the loading bay. She knew how bedraggled she must have looked, but if anything it was better. No southern woman would've dared to be seen like this, so no one would even look twice. She adjusted her cap and drifted into town, surprised by the huge amount of men sitting about, waiting to be given supplies. Those who had uniforms looked like they were from all over. Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, even New York....she listened, and the rumor was that they were being moved close to the capital, knowing the fight would begin in Virginia.
She finally found the recruitment site and executed her lies beautifully: Her name was Samuel Johnson, son of Bernard and Elizabeth Johnson, a farmer from the border of western Virginia, near Berkeley Springs. The willowy boy had his papers, as if they really needed them. He was a set of hands, albeit unusually smooth and delicate hands for a farmer, but a set of hands nonetheless. They shoved a uniform in Anna's arms and sent her on her way to regiment, a joint Maryland/Pennsylvania company. She'd forgotten the numbers already....her head was spinning. This was working.
Your Character: I think the best route to take this story is to have your character become my commanding officer. However, if you see another path for this story to take, please let me know! I'm always looking for ways to refresh a plot and play it differently than I have in the past.
The Widow's Vow: Betrayal, Greed, and Corporate Drug Companies
Jen Myers was now a widow.
It had only been two weeks ago when the policemen had arrived on her doorstep and torn her world apart. Their words were meant for someone else's life, not her own. She and Adam had only been married for four years. Widows had their husbands for decades, not years in the single digits.
Jen's loving husband, Adam Myers, had been involved in an unforgiving single-car accident, and nothing she could wish differently would change that. The police believed that he'd fallen asleep at the wheel and driven straight off the road and into a tree. The car had been torched, and Adam had been killed on impact. There was no evidence to suspect anything differently, and Jen's own observations supported the explanation. Adam had seemed jittery all week, and no amount of coffee or tenderness on her part seemed to do the trick, despite all of her efforts. Adam had always been involved and perhaps too dedicated to his work at the successful stock trading company where he had worked for five years since the days after college, but he had been particularly invested and concerned the last few weeks. It had taken its toll on his sanity, but Jen never guessed it would lead to this. Jen would never forgive herself for not seeing the turmoil in his work that could've resulted in something so disastrous, but she was just as furious at his company for allowing him to be so overworked when it was so blatantly obvious. He had given everything, and now his life, to his job. They'd delayed having a family because Adam was determined to be secure in his position at Drogen Corporation. Jen had argued that they were more than secure, using their house, their cars, their opulent lifestyle as evidence, but he had not relented. And now she would never have the joy of a family with him. No child who would bear his face to drive away the loneliness. She was a widow, and he'd left her alone. None of the wealth he'd gained meant anything now, and as her grief overtook her, she latched onto an unhealthy determination to make his company feel responsible for the death of her husband.
However, things were nowhere near what Jen believed them to be. In reality, there was no Drogen Corporation. No stocks. No high society gambles. Adam Myers was involved in the business end of a large underground drug ring that had been rooted to the city since the late 1930s. Adam never touched the product, but he was just as dirty as the hands that did. It was easy for Adam to masquerade as a corporate man in front of his wife, who easily believed that was why they could afford to live in luxury. He loved the man she could make him believe that he was, even though it was all a lie. Part of him wanted to be that man. But it wasn't to be.
Adam's college roommate, and soon fast friend, Derek, had been the son and heir to the Drogen sham, and it was high class money at that; these were not men of substance, for they were not the lowlifes that did the dirty work. Adam had seen the money, the luxury, the high life, and the life he could have, and had immediately wanted in. From then on, Adam's whole life was sucked into the mess, as well as his unknowing college sweetheart, Jen. Their wedding had been attended by many a drug lord, and they were all so clean cut and charming that Jen had not noticed a thing. If she were to know the truth, she wouldn't believe it, for these men were not what the movies portrayed them to be.
Things were working perfectly for Adam: he had worked his way up the ranks, far beyond the initial "in" that his friendship with Derek had provided, his wife was the envy of many of the men in the office, he was successful beyond his wildest dreams, and he fit in so well....until he got greedy. Adam began to look for ways to profit on the side, unsatisfied with the large cut he was already receiving, partly due to pressure from Jen to start a family. She had a right to want that. After all, he was gone for such long hours, and he had made her quit her job in a local marketing firm, arguing that he had more than enough to support them. She had to bored, and he had to admit that being a mother would suit her. And she was 27, so it was a good age. But he was so paranoid, greedy, and completely invested in preserving the mirage that he'd built Jen into that he made his fatal mistake.
Through number crunching and backhanded deals, Adam was isolating parts of drug shipments and arranging their independent sale with other buyers for his sole profit. If Adam thought he was getting away with it, he was terribly mistaken. His betrayal was discovered, and the group's revenge was underway. Derek, his supposed best friend, was responsible for Adam's capture and torture. Did Adam really think they trusted him entirely? Derek felt responsible for Adam's idiocy because he had brought him into the world of his family, and now he was furious, burning with white hot betrayal. Adam pleaded for Derek to reconsider, to understand the pressure he was under at home, but there was nothing to reconsider.
Adam's car was found the next day...but what no one could've predicted is that it wasn't Adam's burnt corpse within it. For Derek, that would have been too easy. The truth was, Derek had something more sinister planned, something that he wanted Adam to be alive to witness for himself: taking Adam's wife, Jen, for himself.
Your Character: I've obviously named your character "Derek", but it was just to fill the space of a name, so that the summary made sense. I'd love to know as we go through whether or not you're interested in my character for temporary use, or whether you want her for the long term. This one is obviously a bit more maniacal, but I love how manipulative it is. I normally don't like to define your character for you, but it was kind of necessary to describe this plot. If you'd like to make changes, by all means, let's talk about it!
The Manor: Murder, Mystery, and Mystique at the Dawn of WWII
Lena Graven would be the lady of the hour this evening. As she sat at her vanity, she allowed it to be true to its name, her fingers tousling the ringlets of her long chestnut hair, enabling it to trail a path down her back to the exposed dip of skin that the golden ivory fabric revealed. Then, artfully she twisted the curls about her head, pinning them in place and allowing one long spiral to trail down her collar bone. Tonight was her night to be divine. After all, it was her birthday, and it was the dinner party to decide her future. Carefully crafted with her mother, the Graven's were hosting an evening of frivolity and feasting, which perhaps in another time could be called a ball. 1938 had been a good year for the family, despite the lasting effects of the Depression that had crippled the world earlier that decade. Her father had secured their industrial holdings and had kept the age-old family afloat, which was a feat as many other families of the aristocracy were forced to sell their centuries old manor homes when the agriculture of the old era could no longer support the dwelling.
Lena, while she was aware of the doings of goings on of the world, did her best to stay out of politics. That's why, as Father and Mother had planned the guest list with her, she hadn't understood why some families and potential suitors had been removed from the list. She'd heard Papa say, "Hilter would love a man like him to marry his daughter," regarding Gregory Hessex, resulting with a violent slash of a pen across his name. There was turmoil in Europe, for certain, but she thought it silly that the British would squabble over one another's allegiances when there was a party to be had, and a war had not yet begun. Lena had been born in 1916, and tonight would celebrate her 22nd birthday. She had no memory of the war that had ravaged Europe in the years of her infancy, only the stories that had left her ears ringing with sadness. Because of that, she approached the inevitable war with an ignorant enthusiasm that was common of the youths of her age. Tonight was no different.
Darling, Never Grow Up: Hooking a Wendy Bird
Wendy Darling had just finished her evening tale to Michael and John. Peter Pan had bested Hook again, for when did he not? The boys were laughing and jumping between the beds, wooden swords flying. Yet Wendy wasn't as amused as usual. She sank back into her bed, pillows catching her head, full of unusual thoughts.
She had always told such wonderful stories of the boy who would never grow up, vanquishing evil in the form of piracy. Yet the last few nights, she had begun to question what it was that made the ever-persistant Captain Hook so evil. There was a story she was missing, and yet every time she attempted to invent one, there were too many holes left unfilled in the plot. True, he was eager to enlist the lost boys to piracy, but there didn't seem anything worse about piracy than being a lost boy. Both occupations were full of rebellion, and one did not seem to rise above the other on her scale of Victorian morality.
And then there was the deep-seated revenge engrained in everything Hook did. It was more than a lost hand, that was just a small detail. There was bad blood between Pan and Hook, and for the life of her, Wendy could not figure it out. It wounded her pride as a story-teller, but it also intrigued her. If every story unfolded without effort, that would be boring, and Wendy abhorred boredom. She had enough of that in her daily life, stitching, making potpourri, attending galas, preparing to enter society as a lady and be married off. She knew her mother was planning it; she was not naive to that. But she craved adventure, of darkness, of good and evil, of anything but frivolity.
The Rape of Persephone: Winter Heartache
The day was her mother's creation, and it was beautiful. Demeter had known that her beautiful daughter, Persephone, had intended to venture out to the meadows of Nysion to gather flowers with Artemis, Athena, and the Oceanids, and she intended to gift her daughter with a beauty worth of her.
Demeter was slowly reintroducing her daughter to the realm of the Olympus. After both Hermes and Apollo had wooed Persephone, she had removed her from contact with the Olympians, keeping her hidden away with nature as her closest companion. Zeus was an absent father, but that was to be expected for he was far better at creating children than rearing them. But Demeter was a devoted mother, which was also to be expected from Mother Earth. Persophone wanted for nothing, but she never had what she perhaps longed for most.
She was not oblivious to her beauty, or to the reason her mother had taken her from Olympus. She longed for companionship, for the presence of flowers could not stave her obvious loneliness. Even still, she did not seek the companionship of the gods, for they were dull and predictable, meddling too often in their own antics and shallow beyond measure. Persephone held an innocence comparable to the water lily: it floated above the churning of the lake beneath it, unblemished, and pale as moonlight with skyward eyes.
The Mermaid's Return: Forgotten Memories
She lay upon a rock, the sun of the clearing sky shining down upon her skin, drying it, allowing it to warm. To any observer, she could be sleeping, but she was instead tugging at the strands of consciousness. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to meet the light of day, and her vision was blurry. Her mouth tasted of the sea and there was sand in her hair around her temples. Slowly she rose, looking around her, unable to grasp where she was…her mind grappled with her memories, and she came up empty, grasping at straws. It was then that she felt the breeze touch her toes, and her eyes drifted to her legs. There was a thin material wrapped around her waist, but legs were visible beneath it…and she watched as she wiggled her toes. Hers. There was something significant about that, but she couldn't remember what.
As she sat up further, her whole body ached. It felt like she'd been tossed about and deposited on this rock. For all she knew, she could have. She tried to remember what had happened, but once again, she discovered nothing. Then she tried to remember who she was…and more disturbingly, she remembered nothing. Not where, not who, and not why. Her mind was blank and it sent her reeling back to lay on the rock. Her arms tucked to her bare chest, and her hair spilled over the side of the rock. Perhaps the sea had made her: deposited her here on its shore, given her sea wind for breath, sunshine for hair, salt water for tears. She could taste them now, and she did not take the energy to wipe them away. She didn't remember her name, but the sea called it to her. White Wave. Genevieve.
If they're hidden, I'm not feeling super inspired by them at the moment. However, feel free to inquire regardless!
Cry Witch: Tempted or Temptress, Hunter or Hunted
Hana Aislin's fingers were numb as she carried her basket of herbs through the soft layer of snow that coated the forest floor, slowly making her way home in the dim light of early afternoon. The snow had begun to fall the night previous, and Hana had readied herself to venture out the moment it stopped. With the first snow, she knew she was likely to find snowdrop blossoms scattered between the trees, and her stores had grown very low indeed through the fall. The village near her own home was thriving; while disease and pestilence might plague neighboring hamlets, it was Hana's gift with the woods and her knowledge of healing that had encouraged the growth and longevity of life in her village. After years of work, Hana was able to store many of the herbal remedies that she had used tirelessly in her early years as a healer under the guidance of the woman of the wood, Linir. However, one unfortunate side effect of longevity was age, and it was true that the men and women of her village were aging. Many had begun to suffer from sluggish memory, or lapses in spark. With the snowdrop petals and bulbs, Hana could brew a tea that would assist with strengthening the mind, even in the face of an enemy such as age. Along her way, she had collected winterberries and camellias as well, for what good was a forage in winter if she could not acquire all that was useful and available?
Linir had disappeared five years ago, and left Hana alone with her home and her occupation. There had been a time when Hana had despaired at her absence, but the girl had learned very early on that no one could be relied on to remain present in anyone's life. Her own parents had been killed by a bear as they journeyed home from a wedding in the neighboring country. A child of seven, she had waited very patiently for her family to return, sore at the fact that she had been left behind, while her parents' blood seeped into the earth, never to return again. Much had been done to discover the remainder of her family, but no one dared take on another mouth to feed, not with winter fast approaching, and a difficult one at that. One day, Linir had appeared, wispy and pale in her doorway, and had claimed the child has her responsibility. With no one else to claim her, Hana had been whisked away to the forest, finding a home nestled into bed between moth eaten quilts and blankets. Linir had never been a mother, or a grandmother, but a kind and strict force in Hana's life. She loved her as much as she had ever loved her parents, and yet it was not the same love. Hana's heart had been broken when Linir had left one day and never returned.
So the girl had buried herself in work. She'd built relationships among the people in her village, and done her best to ignore their pity and scorn through the years. She was already 17, and not yet married. Even more shameful, she earned income independently of any husband she might acquire. And yet people did not shun her, for they needed her, and many of them whispered that she was herself more talented than the previous Woman of the Wood. Perhaps Linir had not disappeared, but been made to disappear by a jealous apprentice. Maybe it was not herbs that she worked with, but magic.
Hana could not pretend that she was not wary of the whispers of witchcraft that drifted through the village now and again. She knew what she did was often a mystery to the people she treated, and people were often afraid of what they did not understand. But what she did not know is that there lived one within the village who would seek to win her for himself, and if she refused him, he would have no choice but to inflame the already present whispers into shouts.
**For this story, Hana is not actually a witch, but a healer. However, I want there to be a man in the village that wants her for himself, and when she refuses him, he falsely accuses her of witchcraft out of blatant and unwarranted jealousy for a man who does not exist. Normally such an accusation wouldn't take hold, but strange things have started to happen in the woods, and the threat takes hold. The town she has worked to heal and protect turns on her, and soon she finds herself in the midst of a witch trial with the odds terribly stacked against her, and a pyre in her future. However, the village brings in a local expert, either a woodsman or a witch hunter, and he sees the man for the fraud that he is, despite not trusting Hana in the slightest. This is the relationship I'd like to focus on, although I imagine whoever I write this with will write from the perspective of the man in the village first, and then switch between the two as the hunter is introduced and developed further. In the story, they become unlikely allies as something dark begins to take place, and they have to join forced to not only prove her innocence, but to stop whatever darkness is growing in the woods beyond.**
So the girl had buried herself in work. She'd built relationships among the people in her village, and done her best to ignore their pity and scorn through the years. She was already 17, and not yet married. Even more shameful, she earned income independently of any husband she might acquire. And yet people did not shun her, for they needed her, and many of them whispered that she was herself more talented than the previous Woman of the Wood. Perhaps Linir had not disappeared, but been made to disappear by a jealous apprentice. Maybe it was not herbs that she worked with, but magic.
Hana could not pretend that she was not wary of the whispers of witchcraft that drifted through the village now and again. She knew what she did was often a mystery to the people she treated, and people were often afraid of what they did not understand. But what she did not know is that there lived one within the village who would seek to win her for himself, and if she refused him, he would have no choice but to inflame the already present whispers into shouts.
**For this story, Hana is not actually a witch, but a healer. However, I want there to be a man in the village that wants her for himself, and when she refuses him, he falsely accuses her of witchcraft out of blatant and unwarranted jealousy for a man who does not exist. Normally such an accusation wouldn't take hold, but strange things have started to happen in the woods, and the threat takes hold. The town she has worked to heal and protect turns on her, and soon she finds herself in the midst of a witch trial with the odds terribly stacked against her, and a pyre in her future. However, the village brings in a local expert, either a woodsman or a witch hunter, and he sees the man for the fraud that he is, despite not trusting Hana in the slightest. This is the relationship I'd like to focus on, although I imagine whoever I write this with will write from the perspective of the man in the village first, and then switch between the two as the hunter is introduced and developed further. In the story, they become unlikely allies as something dark begins to take place, and they have to join forced to not only prove her innocence, but to stop whatever darkness is growing in the woods beyond.**
Blue Blood: the US Civil War
After the attack on Fort Sumter, men from across Virginia rallied to support that golden Confederate cause which had been solidifying itself over the last century, coming to a head with the election of Abraham Lincoln. Of the first to join ranks and don the grey was Gerald Stevens. He had raised his family in the same plantation he was born in, and he would be damned if some Yank president thought he could take away the sole support of his industry. Little did he know that one member of his family was less than supportive of his Confederate zeal. Anna Stevens was Gerald's eldest daughter. She was a spirited woman, with strong opinions that she worked very hard to guard, particularly on her family's plantation. On the day her father and her older brother left to join ranks, she joined her family and sent the two of them off with enthusiasm and regards for General Lee. That night, however, she sheered her hair short enough to be hidden beneath a cap, stole some trousers from her brother's now empty bedroom, and fled, with regards for Abraham Lincoln. She had a new name, and that was Samuel Johnson, and a new color to wear: blue.
Anna ran through the night, not daring to stop until she was well beyond her county borders. Her lungs were stinging, and her face was bright red with exhaustion when she reached the train station in the neighboring county. She half expected that she would've been accidentally shot as a runaway slave by a hunter with a quick hand and an inflamed sense of patriotism, but somehow she'd managed to run through the night unseen.
After her body stopped protesting against her, she'd regained her composure, her plan racing through her mind. She was unaware what the opinion of her fellow Virginian's to the north were, so she wondered if it would be best to venture even further north to Maryland. Granted, those Virginians who decided to fight for the Union wouldn't want to stay. There was too much southern hate that was just waiting to be tapped into. If she was to hope of success, she needed to get as far away from home as possible, and so she boarded her train north to Maryland. She had been terrified that the trains would've stopped their travel northward, but the fight was still in its earliest stages, and the battle ground had not so clearly been drawn yet.
She barely slept that night, despite the weariness of her body, stowed in the cargo department. The next morning, light filtered in and woke her, but they were still moving. It was at least another day before she dared check her location. They had stopped in western Virginia to pick up a shipment of coal, and were currently in Cumberland, unloading another shipment of cotton. If her intuition was right, as well as her ability to eavesdrop, they were stopping in Hub City next: Hagerstown, Maryland. That's where she'd get off, and that's where she'd find a recruitment center.
She followed that plan, slipping free of her hiding place as they pulled into the loading bay. She knew how bedraggled she must have looked, but if anything it was better. No southern woman would've dared to be seen like this, so no one would even look twice. She adjusted her cap and drifted into town, surprised by the huge amount of men sitting about, waiting to be given supplies. Those who had uniforms looked like they were from all over. Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, even New York....she listened, and the rumor was that they were being moved close to the capital, knowing the fight would begin in Virginia.
She finally found the recruitment site and executed her lies beautifully: Her name was Samuel Johnson, son of Bernard and Elizabeth Johnson, a farmer from the border of western Virginia, near Berkeley Springs. The willowy boy had his papers, as if they really needed them. He was a set of hands, albeit unusually smooth and delicate hands for a farmer, but a set of hands nonetheless. They shoved a uniform in Anna's arms and sent her on her way to regiment, a joint Maryland/Pennsylvania company. She'd forgotten the numbers already....her head was spinning. This was working.
Your Character: I think the best route to take this story is to have your character become my commanding officer. However, if you see another path for this story to take, please let me know! I'm always looking for ways to refresh a plot and play it differently than I have in the past.
The Widow's Vow: Betrayal, Greed, and Corporate Drug Companies
Jen Myers was now a widow.
It had only been two weeks ago when the policemen had arrived on her doorstep and torn her world apart. Their words were meant for someone else's life, not her own. She and Adam had only been married for four years. Widows had their husbands for decades, not years in the single digits.
Jen's loving husband, Adam Myers, had been involved in an unforgiving single-car accident, and nothing she could wish differently would change that. The police believed that he'd fallen asleep at the wheel and driven straight off the road and into a tree. The car had been torched, and Adam had been killed on impact. There was no evidence to suspect anything differently, and Jen's own observations supported the explanation. Adam had seemed jittery all week, and no amount of coffee or tenderness on her part seemed to do the trick, despite all of her efforts. Adam had always been involved and perhaps too dedicated to his work at the successful stock trading company where he had worked for five years since the days after college, but he had been particularly invested and concerned the last few weeks. It had taken its toll on his sanity, but Jen never guessed it would lead to this. Jen would never forgive herself for not seeing the turmoil in his work that could've resulted in something so disastrous, but she was just as furious at his company for allowing him to be so overworked when it was so blatantly obvious. He had given everything, and now his life, to his job. They'd delayed having a family because Adam was determined to be secure in his position at Drogen Corporation. Jen had argued that they were more than secure, using their house, their cars, their opulent lifestyle as evidence, but he had not relented. And now she would never have the joy of a family with him. No child who would bear his face to drive away the loneliness. She was a widow, and he'd left her alone. None of the wealth he'd gained meant anything now, and as her grief overtook her, she latched onto an unhealthy determination to make his company feel responsible for the death of her husband.
However, things were nowhere near what Jen believed them to be. In reality, there was no Drogen Corporation. No stocks. No high society gambles. Adam Myers was involved in the business end of a large underground drug ring that had been rooted to the city since the late 1930s. Adam never touched the product, but he was just as dirty as the hands that did. It was easy for Adam to masquerade as a corporate man in front of his wife, who easily believed that was why they could afford to live in luxury. He loved the man she could make him believe that he was, even though it was all a lie. Part of him wanted to be that man. But it wasn't to be.
Adam's college roommate, and soon fast friend, Derek, had been the son and heir to the Drogen sham, and it was high class money at that; these were not men of substance, for they were not the lowlifes that did the dirty work. Adam had seen the money, the luxury, the high life, and the life he could have, and had immediately wanted in. From then on, Adam's whole life was sucked into the mess, as well as his unknowing college sweetheart, Jen. Their wedding had been attended by many a drug lord, and they were all so clean cut and charming that Jen had not noticed a thing. If she were to know the truth, she wouldn't believe it, for these men were not what the movies portrayed them to be.
Things were working perfectly for Adam: he had worked his way up the ranks, far beyond the initial "in" that his friendship with Derek had provided, his wife was the envy of many of the men in the office, he was successful beyond his wildest dreams, and he fit in so well....until he got greedy. Adam began to look for ways to profit on the side, unsatisfied with the large cut he was already receiving, partly due to pressure from Jen to start a family. She had a right to want that. After all, he was gone for such long hours, and he had made her quit her job in a local marketing firm, arguing that he had more than enough to support them. She had to bored, and he had to admit that being a mother would suit her. And she was 27, so it was a good age. But he was so paranoid, greedy, and completely invested in preserving the mirage that he'd built Jen into that he made his fatal mistake.
Through number crunching and backhanded deals, Adam was isolating parts of drug shipments and arranging their independent sale with other buyers for his sole profit. If Adam thought he was getting away with it, he was terribly mistaken. His betrayal was discovered, and the group's revenge was underway. Derek, his supposed best friend, was responsible for Adam's capture and torture. Did Adam really think they trusted him entirely? Derek felt responsible for Adam's idiocy because he had brought him into the world of his family, and now he was furious, burning with white hot betrayal. Adam pleaded for Derek to reconsider, to understand the pressure he was under at home, but there was nothing to reconsider.
Adam's car was found the next day...but what no one could've predicted is that it wasn't Adam's burnt corpse within it. For Derek, that would have been too easy. The truth was, Derek had something more sinister planned, something that he wanted Adam to be alive to witness for himself: taking Adam's wife, Jen, for himself.
Your Character: I've obviously named your character "Derek", but it was just to fill the space of a name, so that the summary made sense. I'd love to know as we go through whether or not you're interested in my character for temporary use, or whether you want her for the long term. This one is obviously a bit more maniacal, but I love how manipulative it is. I normally don't like to define your character for you, but it was kind of necessary to describe this plot. If you'd like to make changes, by all means, let's talk about it!
The Manor: Murder, Mystery, and Mystique at the Dawn of WWII
Lena Graven would be the lady of the hour this evening. As she sat at her vanity, she allowed it to be true to its name, her fingers tousling the ringlets of her long chestnut hair, enabling it to trail a path down her back to the exposed dip of skin that the golden ivory fabric revealed. Then, artfully she twisted the curls about her head, pinning them in place and allowing one long spiral to trail down her collar bone. Tonight was her night to be divine. After all, it was her birthday, and it was the dinner party to decide her future. Carefully crafted with her mother, the Graven's were hosting an evening of frivolity and feasting, which perhaps in another time could be called a ball. 1938 had been a good year for the family, despite the lasting effects of the Depression that had crippled the world earlier that decade. Her father had secured their industrial holdings and had kept the age-old family afloat, which was a feat as many other families of the aristocracy were forced to sell their centuries old manor homes when the agriculture of the old era could no longer support the dwelling.
Lena, while she was aware of the doings of goings on of the world, did her best to stay out of politics. That's why, as Father and Mother had planned the guest list with her, she hadn't understood why some families and potential suitors had been removed from the list. She'd heard Papa say, "Hilter would love a man like him to marry his daughter," regarding Gregory Hessex, resulting with a violent slash of a pen across his name. There was turmoil in Europe, for certain, but she thought it silly that the British would squabble over one another's allegiances when there was a party to be had, and a war had not yet begun. Lena had been born in 1916, and tonight would celebrate her 22nd birthday. She had no memory of the war that had ravaged Europe in the years of her infancy, only the stories that had left her ears ringing with sadness. Because of that, she approached the inevitable war with an ignorant enthusiasm that was common of the youths of her age. Tonight was no different.
They'd established the guest list and Lena was satisfied, although there were still a select few that her father was not too keen on. But for Lena, there were multiple men in attendance that she'd been acquainted with when she'd last visited London society. Tonight she had every intention of discovering her husband, not a thought given to the nearing war or the tension it brought to any social setting. Or to the fact that when politics mingled with passion, someone was bound to lose their head.
Concept/Your Character: I'd really like for a murder to happen during the course of the evening. The family wouldn't want to bring the police into things until they had a better understanding of what had happened. I want Lena to be the first to discover the body, making her a prime suspect, hence the delayed police involvement. We'll play a variety of characters, but I imagine your primary character would be one of the suitors. You can be the murderer, or not. You can also be a good or bad character. Just because he's a murderer doesn't mean that he's bad. Perhaps the man he murdered was a sympathizer with the Third Reich and had every intention of selling information on Britain's intelligence. Or perhaps that's you, and you plan to take my character for yourself as a bride before fleeing the country and going to Germany. Or you could simply be a secondary suitor who helps her discover the truth about the intrigue. I'm looking forward to developing our plot with you
Concept/Your Character: I'd really like for a murder to happen during the course of the evening. The family wouldn't want to bring the police into things until they had a better understanding of what had happened. I want Lena to be the first to discover the body, making her a prime suspect, hence the delayed police involvement. We'll play a variety of characters, but I imagine your primary character would be one of the suitors. You can be the murderer, or not. You can also be a good or bad character. Just because he's a murderer doesn't mean that he's bad. Perhaps the man he murdered was a sympathizer with the Third Reich and had every intention of selling information on Britain's intelligence. Or perhaps that's you, and you plan to take my character for yourself as a bride before fleeing the country and going to Germany. Or you could simply be a secondary suitor who helps her discover the truth about the intrigue. I'm looking forward to developing our plot with you
Darling, Never Grow Up: Hooking a Wendy Bird
Wendy Darling had just finished her evening tale to Michael and John. Peter Pan had bested Hook again, for when did he not? The boys were laughing and jumping between the beds, wooden swords flying. Yet Wendy wasn't as amused as usual. She sank back into her bed, pillows catching her head, full of unusual thoughts.
She had always told such wonderful stories of the boy who would never grow up, vanquishing evil in the form of piracy. Yet the last few nights, she had begun to question what it was that made the ever-persistant Captain Hook so evil. There was a story she was missing, and yet every time she attempted to invent one, there were too many holes left unfilled in the plot. True, he was eager to enlist the lost boys to piracy, but there didn't seem anything worse about piracy than being a lost boy. Both occupations were full of rebellion, and one did not seem to rise above the other on her scale of Victorian morality.
And then there was the deep-seated revenge engrained in everything Hook did. It was more than a lost hand, that was just a small detail. There was bad blood between Pan and Hook, and for the life of her, Wendy could not figure it out. It wounded her pride as a story-teller, but it also intrigued her. If every story unfolded without effort, that would be boring, and Wendy abhorred boredom. She had enough of that in her daily life, stitching, making potpourri, attending galas, preparing to enter society as a lady and be married off. She knew her mother was planning it; she was not naive to that. But she craved adventure, of darkness, of good and evil, of anything but frivolity.
She released a heavy sigh and that drew the attention of her brothers. With a unified laugh, they jumped onto her bed and dragged her to her feet. "Weepy Wendy, Weepy Wendy, why are you so sad?" They chanted, circling their arms around her waist and jumping about her in a strange little dance. Wendy could not help but laugh, shaking her head. "Why I don't want to grow up, of course." She grinned, reaching out to stop their circle dance, hugging them to her.
Satisfied, the boys scampered away, resuming their swashbuckling sword match, clacks of wood echoing about the room. Wendy adjusted her cotton shift, perching on the edge of her bed, watching them, humming "A Pirate's Life for Me" with a playful smile on her face.
Late that night, they would have a visitor. And that much would be history. A happy thought, a journey past the second start to the right and straight on 'til morning, and the Darling siblings would find themselves in Neverland. What Wendy could never predict is that she would soon be caught in the snares of Captain James Hook...and suddenly the story she always thought she knew, her creation, was more real that she could've ever predicted, in a way she never could have guessed.
Your Character/Story Direction: So! This is obviously a variation on Peter Pan. To be clear, I'm not attempting to give a nod to the show Once Upon a Time. The inspiration for this story was the picture I've included with this description. I'd like Wendy to discover the truth about the bad blood between Pan and Hook, and discover that perhaps Hook wasn't who she thought he was. He's older and enticing, and he offers her the adventure that she has craved her entire life, and in a way she never expected. Wendy is not the insipid girl she is often portrayed to be, and she soon proves herself spirited, intelligent, and daring. I'd love to hear your ideas as to what exactly happened before Pan and Hook found Neverland, and how they came to hate each other so ardently.
Satisfied, the boys scampered away, resuming their swashbuckling sword match, clacks of wood echoing about the room. Wendy adjusted her cotton shift, perching on the edge of her bed, watching them, humming "A Pirate's Life for Me" with a playful smile on her face.
Late that night, they would have a visitor. And that much would be history. A happy thought, a journey past the second start to the right and straight on 'til morning, and the Darling siblings would find themselves in Neverland. What Wendy could never predict is that she would soon be caught in the snares of Captain James Hook...and suddenly the story she always thought she knew, her creation, was more real that she could've ever predicted, in a way she never could have guessed.
Your Character/Story Direction: So! This is obviously a variation on Peter Pan. To be clear, I'm not attempting to give a nod to the show Once Upon a Time. The inspiration for this story was the picture I've included with this description. I'd like Wendy to discover the truth about the bad blood between Pan and Hook, and discover that perhaps Hook wasn't who she thought he was. He's older and enticing, and he offers her the adventure that she has craved her entire life, and in a way she never expected. Wendy is not the insipid girl she is often portrayed to be, and she soon proves herself spirited, intelligent, and daring. I'd love to hear your ideas as to what exactly happened before Pan and Hook found Neverland, and how they came to hate each other so ardently.
The Rape of Persephone: Winter Heartache
The day was her mother's creation, and it was beautiful. Demeter had known that her beautiful daughter, Persephone, had intended to venture out to the meadows of Nysion to gather flowers with Artemis, Athena, and the Oceanids, and she intended to gift her daughter with a beauty worth of her.
Demeter was slowly reintroducing her daughter to the realm of the Olympus. After both Hermes and Apollo had wooed Persephone, she had removed her from contact with the Olympians, keeping her hidden away with nature as her closest companion. Zeus was an absent father, but that was to be expected for he was far better at creating children than rearing them. But Demeter was a devoted mother, which was also to be expected from Mother Earth. Persophone wanted for nothing, but she never had what she perhaps longed for most.
She was not oblivious to her beauty, or to the reason her mother had taken her from Olympus. She longed for companionship, for the presence of flowers could not stave her obvious loneliness. Even still, she did not seek the companionship of the gods, for they were dull and predictable, meddling too often in their own antics and shallow beyond measure. Persephone held an innocence comparable to the water lily: it floated above the churning of the lake beneath it, unblemished, and pale as moonlight with skyward eyes.
What she did not know is that while she was purposely evading the attention of the gods, she had attracted the attention of one who was unlike any of the others. Her Uncle, the King of the Underworld. Yet the gods were immortal, and beautiful, and despite his confinement to the depths of the Earth, he was hauntingly striking. Persephone had never encountered him before, yet he had been observing her in secret, and had grown covetous of something so pure, something he could never understand. He was conflicted between the idea of sheltering such a unimpeachable being, or ruining her.
Artemis and Athena had gone ahead, Athena intent on gathering the charriot before returning Persephone home, and the Oceanids returning to the sea. Persephone walked along on her own, lingering to collect a few more flowers when there was a shattering crack and she looked up in alarm as the birds fled in panic. And then he was there, descending from his charriot, standing before her, and despite the fact that she had never met the man, she knew immediately who he was. Hades.
Story/Your Character: This is obviously a variation on the "Rape of Persephone". For those of you don't know, Hades takes the girl to the Underworld, making her Queen of the Underworld. Zeus allows Hades to take Persephone because the god is obviously hopelessly in love with the girl, yet no one reveals to Demeter where her daughter has gone. Demeter's despair at her missing daughter turns the Earth barren, and Helios (the Sun) finally reveals that it was Hades that took her. Zeus, pressed by the cries of the hungry mortals in the wake of the barren drought has no choice but to order Hades to return Persephone to her mother. However, before she does so, he tricks her into eating a pomegranate, the fruit of the underworld, and after Hermes takes her back to the surface, it is discovered that she must return to the Underworld for the third of the year. Thus winter was born, for Demeter's loneliness at the absence of her daughter returns for that same third of the year.
For us, I obviously want more than just the basic story. Persephone, despite her innocence, is an intelligent girl, who longs for more in life besides the selfish larks of the gods. Hades is dark, and he is her foil in every way, yet she is drawn to him for his is nothing like the others. He both scares her and entices her, for the conflict that he feels causes him to be both captivated and harsh towards her. I'd really love to hear your take on Hades' character, since he'll be your creation. I just wanted to give you a feel for the basic juxtaposition between the two lovers.
Artemis and Athena had gone ahead, Athena intent on gathering the charriot before returning Persephone home, and the Oceanids returning to the sea. Persephone walked along on her own, lingering to collect a few more flowers when there was a shattering crack and she looked up in alarm as the birds fled in panic. And then he was there, descending from his charriot, standing before her, and despite the fact that she had never met the man, she knew immediately who he was. Hades.
Story/Your Character: This is obviously a variation on the "Rape of Persephone". For those of you don't know, Hades takes the girl to the Underworld, making her Queen of the Underworld. Zeus allows Hades to take Persephone because the god is obviously hopelessly in love with the girl, yet no one reveals to Demeter where her daughter has gone. Demeter's despair at her missing daughter turns the Earth barren, and Helios (the Sun) finally reveals that it was Hades that took her. Zeus, pressed by the cries of the hungry mortals in the wake of the barren drought has no choice but to order Hades to return Persephone to her mother. However, before she does so, he tricks her into eating a pomegranate, the fruit of the underworld, and after Hermes takes her back to the surface, it is discovered that she must return to the Underworld for the third of the year. Thus winter was born, for Demeter's loneliness at the absence of her daughter returns for that same third of the year.
For us, I obviously want more than just the basic story. Persephone, despite her innocence, is an intelligent girl, who longs for more in life besides the selfish larks of the gods. Hades is dark, and he is her foil in every way, yet she is drawn to him for his is nothing like the others. He both scares her and entices her, for the conflict that he feels causes him to be both captivated and harsh towards her. I'd really love to hear your take on Hades' character, since he'll be your creation. I just wanted to give you a feel for the basic juxtaposition between the two lovers.
The Mermaid's Return: Forgotten Memories
She lay upon a rock, the sun of the clearing sky shining down upon her skin, drying it, allowing it to warm. To any observer, she could be sleeping, but she was instead tugging at the strands of consciousness. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to meet the light of day, and her vision was blurry. Her mouth tasted of the sea and there was sand in her hair around her temples. Slowly she rose, looking around her, unable to grasp where she was…her mind grappled with her memories, and she came up empty, grasping at straws. It was then that she felt the breeze touch her toes, and her eyes drifted to her legs. There was a thin material wrapped around her waist, but legs were visible beneath it…and she watched as she wiggled her toes. Hers. There was something significant about that, but she couldn't remember what.
As she sat up further, her whole body ached. It felt like she'd been tossed about and deposited on this rock. For all she knew, she could have. She tried to remember what had happened, but once again, she discovered nothing. Then she tried to remember who she was…and more disturbingly, she remembered nothing. Not where, not who, and not why. Her mind was blank and it sent her reeling back to lay on the rock. Her arms tucked to her bare chest, and her hair spilled over the side of the rock. Perhaps the sea had made her: deposited her here on its shore, given her sea wind for breath, sunshine for hair, salt water for tears. She could taste them now, and she did not take the energy to wipe them away. She didn't remember her name, but the sea called it to her. White Wave. Genevieve.
Brief explanation: I am imagining that Genevieve is a victim of shipwreck, and in her state of amnesia, she latched onto the sea as her home, imagining herself as a mermaid. Slowly regaining memories that aren't real, but imagined, made to fill the missing holes that she has left. It could also be played in reverse, that she is in fact a mermaid, and those memories are real and toying at the edge of consciousness.
Your character: This is really up to where you see the story heading. You could be a wayfaring fisherman, discovering her on the rocks. She could be discovered by women in a local village and taken to you, the town doctor. Or you could go the obvious route and play it similarly to the Little Mermaid, and be a prince. While it's cliché, if you can spin it in a different way, I'm all ears. I imagine this takes place in a seaside village or kingdom in the 1800s.
Your character: This is really up to where you see the story heading. You could be a wayfaring fisherman, discovering her on the rocks. She could be discovered by women in a local village and taken to you, the town doctor. Or you could go the obvious route and play it similarly to the Little Mermaid, and be a prince. While it's cliché, if you can spin it in a different way, I'm all ears. I imagine this takes place in a seaside village or kingdom in the 1800s.
