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Picture plots and suggestions inside. CON,M/F,Historical/Modern.

trudee

trudee

Really Really Experienced
Joined
Jun 20, 2011
Posts
352
Preferences, Proclivities and Particulars . CON,M/F,Historical/Modern.

My Introduction and Etiquette Preferences.

I'll keep this OOC for my own thoughts and ideas. I would kindly ask that no one replies on the thread if possible, but rather via personal messenger.


First off “I do NOT roleplay off-forum at all – not PM, IM, e-mail or any other medium – so please do not ask. Those who persist in doing so will be ignored and blocked.


Gender. Female.

Orientation. Straight.

Bodytype. Pretty much what I'd like to be if I were younger, 26ish, single and lets not forget realistically lovely. I'm not about writing the part of the pretties sexiest woman ever to draw breath.

Settings. Contemporary/modern and Historical. And while I might have ideas based on something read on a book jacket, I do not get involved in Roleplays based on movies, comics or books. I just don't see the point.

Likes/Kinks. I love romance, but not Mills and boon mush. I like patience in play. If you're looking to ''sexual'' rp after only a couple of posts, unless it's necessary for the plot, it's not going to happen. Creating tension is something that's more important for me.
Godmodding is neither a kink nor a like. It's completely out of bounds. I am a roleplayer, not a co-writer, so DO NOT WRITE MY POSTS FOR ME. I would ask politely that a partner NOT attempt to write the actions, thoughts or words of a character created by me, unless I've written it first.
I would also ask that no OOC comments be left on a roleplay thread. If a partner wants to ask a question, or comment on something, please pm it. The in play thread is for roleplay posts only.

Hard Limits. BDSM. While I'm open to a light bondage when it fits the story, I won't do the daddy/pet/slave/master thing in any context. I don't care for it. It doesn't make my ladies dominant by any means, but they'll not address any male in a story as Master in a sexual setting. If in an OOC and most of my OOCs would request it, I express that I want a Dominant male character created by a male writer, it doesn't mean I want a DOM. I simply mean I have a preference to a masculine strong character, that's not submissive.
Also if it's got a tail, doesn't stand upright, I don't want to know.

Availability and Style. Long posts only. I just don't feel like I've written unless it's a longer post.
I'm consistent, but not a daily poster. So I prefer a slower paced thread of one or two posts per week, and hope that the quality of my replies is worth the wait. But while I prefer slower threads, it doesn't mean that I'm happy with spending weeks waiting for a post, while a writing partner posts for all his other partners multiple times, and our thread is left ignored. That's just plain rude and very unfair. So don't push your luck or abuse my preference. If you're not interested, say so. Everyone has a favorite thread, a favorite partner, it's normal. Just don't make waiting a thing of embarrassment.

I also don't write in the first person preference. I'm not comfortable with it, as for me it's too close to cybering. My personal view only of course.
I'm also only comfortable with writing with gentlemen who remember the 90's as an adult.Sorry. But it's for the best.

I've written here before, but am using this 'name' now. If I'm recognized, I would ask that it not be disclosed on the open forum. I just want to be left alone to enjoy the site as I have done in the past with trusted friends. Thanks.


In Short.

Offs

I do NOT roleplay off-forum at all – not PM, IM, e-mail or any other medium!

Goddmodding. Do not write reactions of my characters or their words unless I've written it first. Instant thread killer if my character is controlled by someone other than me, who created it.

If its not humanoid and has a tail or tentacles, I'm not interested..Not into bestiality at all.

Sexual discomforts...Not into humiliation.I like my sex vigorous, romantic, passionate, frenzied, but not something that I need to google to see what the hell is being done. It can include mild bondage if tastefully done, but not BDSM.

I don't do scat or anything that even comes close to it..

I like descriptive passages..Plenty of lovely words to paint a picture of what's going on. I'm prepared to adapt to slightly shorter posts, but not one line efforts..I'm sorry.

I'm straight...So I can't and don't want to write girl on girl. Just not my thing. Nothing against it, but I don't get it.



Ons

Romance...I love it. I also like a male character to be masculine. I'm not into submissively played males. Sorry.

Historical..love it.

Present day.

Sexual comforts...Anal, oral, rough/passionate.

Basically anything, that's in the realm of reality..I'm open to explore some things if discussed OOC..But no would be no if I wasn't sure..

Thank you..
 
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My Letter To You. M/F, CON, VAN,Apocalyptic.

Taken and in Play


My Letter To You. Please if possible, do not reply here. Pm only

This would be a little bit different I think. It's post apocalyptic, where a worn '' soldier'' looking for a place to rest up, finds concealed away, a letter from a young woman to her lover/husband.

The letter along with detailing how she misses him and loves him, will also tell her lover the first stages of a journey to where she's moving to for safety. Once there, she'll leave him another letter..a paper trail so to speak of the various stages of her journey to a place where she'll be waiting for him when safety is eventually found.

The letter is dated, and is a couple of years old. But to a man who has had nothing of his own, for the years of the wars, it's intriguing and actually gives him something of a direction to move in. Because of the date on the letter, and the fact it's obviously not been found by this ''lover'', he undertakes the journey himself. More out of curiosity, and because his life is barren of anything worthwhile now, the letter, and subsequent letters become something of great importance to him as he eventually grows to love the woman who writes of her own love.

I do not want the gentleman in question to be written as confused and believing the letters to be for him however. I simply want him to be a decent man, with nothing left, but who for his own reasons ( maybe the strain emotionally of the war, and the broken world left behind) takes hope in the love letters he finds. He has no way of knowing if she's dead or alive..or if she even made it to safety, or that the letters will ever lead him to her.

I will obviously write the letters and give as much detail as I can, and the partners part will be posts detailing his journey, hopefully with lots of details. There will be very little actual interaction between the two until they eventually do meet. Letters from me, posts about him from the male partner.


It's open to one Male mature writer, who can create his character and is willing to have limited inplay interaction with my lady until further into the thread. Yes, it'll be different I think, but I also think interesting and very beautiful if done right.

Pm if interested ..thanks.
 
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Housekeeping. Idea no longer interests me.
 
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http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/89770156534630248640.jpg

I adore this picture, have done since I first saw it. *I'll keep her here, visit her and see what comes to my mind when the time is right.


However if she speaks to you (a male writer) and inspires a story you might want to explore, pm me and let me know. As always, please read my first post here on this thread and my ''No no''s on my sigline, to ensure compatibility.

With thanks.
 
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Available.

Let there be Hope. Con, M/F, Van,pregnancy, romantic drama. An idea only available to the right male partner.


Tall, dark and handsome Bill Jerrard has served time for the killing of a prostitute.(the reason for her death is up to the writers). Eight years are given to pay his dues, and the once 24 year old who thought he was a man, leaves prison a 32 year old man who simply wants to start a life. But he keeps losing jobs as his reputation becomes known.

In the small town at the beginning of WW II, he answers the advertisement of a pregnant widow and mother of two young boys. A woman left a widow, but with her comfortable fortune under threat because of her unscrupulous brother in law. The law of the state at the time, stated that a womans right to inherit could be challenged, if there were no of age sons. But Hope's sons are too young, so her brother in law epitomizes his older brother in attempting to torment her, and take her home. But there is a way. So the abused and reclusive 29 year old Hope Anderson, now looks for a husband, as a means of securing her home, and her childrens right to their father's lands when old enough.

Bill dotes on her two boys, and works the land to support his new family. He lives with his secret, not having disclosed his past, and she's growing more at ease, trusting of him, and he is completely taken with a woman that is carrying the child of a man that terrified her.

Fittingly for this sort of story, they will be tested. Patience will be depended upon, as trusts are nurtured, and Hope learns that a mans touch does not have to mean a hurt.
There will for Bill always be the fear of discovery..A discovery that could destroy everything. Losing Hope and her boys everything they own.

~

Not an never ending thread. Pm's only please when offered.

Will be open to one male writer, who can treat writing through a pregnancy play with the respect it deserves.
This is not a fetish play.
She's simply pregnant..not pregnant to get her mans rocks off. So don't pm if the bump is all you're interested in please. This could be a very promising sensual story if treated properly, and the ''s'' in srp could be incredible. Therefore I'll only do this play if I'm familiar with the partner and am comfortable on the topic with them.

Also I'm not a detail nut on dates around WWII. I just like that era. A general use of Google will be fine.
 
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Reserved.by Marauder13 in due course.

This is quickly posted, due to time constraints, sorry. Please do not reply here on this thread if you don't mind. Pm's only.

The story I have in mind, caters to my love of angst and emotional explorations, before the ultimate happiness of finding someone that understands and loves you happens.

I see a solitary man, having suffered a huge grief in his live, at the death of his wife and child. He literally gives up on the life they'd shared, unable to be close to where they lived, around their things, or around the people they knew. So he sells up, and takes to the road, traveling and writing a diary of the places he's visited, and the people he's met. It's not intended as a book initially, ( that's up to the creator of the male character.), but it's a means of him healing his heart, writing down his feelings and thoughts. It doesn't actually have to be ''written'' down in a post, but rather it's WHY he's moving from town to town. He's not poor, he has his means of supporting himself, but he will also work his way around as he's not a man to sit back and just watch. So he's a dab hand at odd jobs.

My lady simply owns a country home, a guest house, that's in sad repair and in need of her attention, and a skillful hand -> enter the above gentleman. And the story is very simple. There's no mystery, no secrets, just two people in the right place at the right time to help each-other, both practically and eventually emotionally. It's not an never-ending story, but it could be a sweet one.

~

If a simple roleplay is what you desire, and your'e a relatively eloquent male writer, who can write a decent length post, pm me and we'll chat about this.

I would also ask that the first post of this thread is read and understood as there's no point in pming me if my expectations are not understood and followed.

With thanks.
 
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Housekeeping. Idea no longer interests me.
 
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A little edit. Post 10 Let there be Hope is now available to the right male partner. Pm's only.

Please read the first post of the thread first however as it's vital. Thank you.
 
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Housekeeping. Idea no longer interests me.
 
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to be used another time.
 
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One of my ladies has found a place in this offering. The first post is at the bottom of this post.

http://i899.photobucket.com/albums/ac200/lova_03/WomanReikiAna-woman-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.jpg

The Foundling.Con, Van, M/F, Historical, Fantasy.Under discussion with a writer, but not yet reserved.

They had given her a name when she was first found, before those that found her knew she was different and took her name away, to simply call her Foundling.

Found as an infant, in mid winter she was half dead with cold. Nursed to health, and raised among the villagers that she loved. She flourished, and so too did the village. But no one saw that when she was ill, the village became ill too. At least not until the time came to find her a husband. And the young man that was to court her died, withering to a husk as soon as he touched her. And then another....and another. The villagers turned on her then and shunned her. She was called a witch...a horror from hell. A demon who feasted on the love of lovers. They feared killing her...feared her! Feared what would happen if she were to die..or live among them.

She grew ill then. But this time Ill with misery of being alone because they banished her to a small island off the shore; within sight of the village she had grown up in and was now growing ill too.

She waits. And they wait. She waits for what she knows by some deep instinct she needs. A companion that can defy whatever curses her heart. A lover that can love greater than what ever poisons her touch.
Does he exist? The villagers pray so. For without her, their village will die. She must live...and they will woo suitors to her with promises of wealth and send each man to her hoping he is the one. A wealth is hoarded among them. A dreadful dowry taken from the gold stolen from those that come to woo her, but died when they reached for her. Fear drives the village, and fear of harming another soul drives her to reject those that come within distance of her. And while her will grows weak, her heart aches....and the village fields fail in their crops, and wives bare no children.

~

Foundling didn't actually strike me as a witch or a succubi. What I had thought of was the unwanted child of a demon and human joining. She's not evil, but is a young woman who's birth was touched by the most foul energies of hell. Running along those lines, it makes sense why the man that touched her withered away. Even her own condition and that of the villages makes sense in my mind that way. ie when she is well and happy, life is too, but when ill or threatened, the village suffers also. It's not fully thought out, so it's wide open for a prospective male partner to offer his views, ideas and interpretations to.

The character I'd like to pair her with though, would be a priest. Picture someone sent by the church to investigate the troubles, and to save the village. Some as good as the demon that touched her birth mother was bad.

He expects a dark spirit has cursed the village, but when the villages indicate the trouble is caused by Foundling, he assumes the worst. Perhaps he thinks she is a witch, or is possessed by a demon. But when he crosses to the island to confront her, he finds no presence of a demon and nothing indicating a wicked presence about her. A man who she finds can lay his hands on her, and not die. A man caught between his beliefs, his morals and these feelings growing for the Foundling that defy his own vows. Perfect strain for any love affair that is torn by the choices he will face and the curse of her birth.

Open to one eloquent male writer with a sense of romantic tragedy. Please read the first post of this thread before inquiring. Pm's only.

Thank you.


Proposed first post.


It had been a cold wet night, the night she was born.

It had been an awful morning when she was found in a wet blanket, laying in the ball of its folds at a pillar outside the small Church grounds on a bed of moss; too feeble to cry, too tiny to warm herself and too infantile to protect herself from the elements.

It had been only the luck of God that brought Old Will Smythe out. But for his layabout son in law, Bill would have still been tucked up in his bed, instead of attending to a horse foaling in the early hours. He would have had no cause to pass the Church, nor no cause to pause at the muddied blanket that was drenched from the rain, and find a new born girl child, blue around her open mouth, her body greying with cold, and her tiny hands open, not clenched like a new infant would be.

It had been a sorrowful blessing that Sarah Blessing had only buried her own infant son the day before. Her husband Daniel,- the nearest thing the small coastal village of Little Gull's had to a doctor,- had brought the girl child upstairs to his wife after Old Will had left, and asked the impossible of her.
To nurse a child , half dead back to life, at her breast. It had been one of the most tragic things the man had ever witnessed. His own precious wife, grieving for their own babes loss, coaxing her milk into an infant that seemed more destined towards a paupers plot at the back of the tiny grave yard. He knew he was asking too much of his wife if the little girl didn't live. Two babies in two days would surely addle her already weakened mind.

But the little one didn't die. They named her Rose after his own Mother, and no one ever asked where she'd come from. No one dared take the little happiness from the Blessings that God had seen fit to bring them.
At four, Rose attended Sunday school with the woman she believed to be ''Moma''. At seven, she received her first communion, and was as pretty a girl as a proud man might call his daughter. She was a good girl, a happy girl, who loved picking flowers, and making daisy chains in the lush fields.

Her little world consisted of fifteen houses in a row over looking a tiny harbor where four small fishing vessels harbored, with their lobster pots strung over the side and fishing nets rolled ready for tossing. Each morning in the still silver grey before dawn, eight men set out across the water up the Sound to catch and fish, while their wives watched the clouds roll by and silently pray.
Her little world also included the smithies forge and of course the Church, and the land at the back that gave healthy harvests of fine corn and winter barley. Scattered in the small hills there, were also eleven holdings where families that didn't fish tilled the soil that seemed to grow richer with each year that passed.

In total , by the time Rose was ten, the Church played host each Sunday to a congregation of 34 adults and 24 children. No one knew hunger. Everyone worked and prayed hard, and their lives were duly rewarded.

By the time she was eighteen, Little Gull had grown to almost twice its population. People wanted to be here..to stay. To marry, make their homes, have their families, and remain part of the close community. It was perfect. Rose loved it. She was loved, and her ''parents'' could see nothing but the continuation of their happiness in their fortunate family.
By the time she had turned eighteen, she was quite the beauty, with brown eyes that were like warm mirrors to her soul. There had been something about Rose Blessing that set her apart. A quietness, a thoughtfulness, an independence whereby she depended on no one, but had loved being around people, watching them, standing back viewing their lives. She was then, much sought after by the young men who wished to be the one to draw her forward from the shadow.

Robert Stone had asked to walk with her the weekend before the harvest ball. Her father encouraged the match. Robert was as fine a young man as could have presented themselves at their front door. Danial was on the town council, and knew of the lads reputation, and the reputation of his father. He gave his blessing, and Rose had left to walk to the cliff face with Robert. A stroll that would take no more than 25 minutes.

He was funny. Rose laughed as he told her stories of his fathers farm, and how mistakes were often the best lessons to learn from. He was sweet, and as they walked back towards the fifteen houses over looking the harbor, he asked her if she'd accompany him to the harvest ball the following week.

At the fourteenth house they'd stopped, as it was Rose's home, and she had smiled and nodded. Her father Daniel had opened the front door, the curtain flickering on the front parlor window as her mother watched, and Robert had offered Rose his hand ..

She had at first thought she had come over faint, and was delirious. His handsome young face had contorted with gruesome surprise, and the wind in his lungs had gushed out of him as if some great unseen element had taken up home in his chest and pushed the very air from Roberts body. His hand had squeezed hers tightly, until his grip was like powder on her skin. His flesh fell dry from brittle bones and he was a pool of ash that still shrieked in her ears for hours after. No one had known what had happened. Nor why.
No one had known how a young man could be one minute, then not be the next. No one had known how to tell his family..no one had known how what name to give it.

It lasted three days. The grief, the pain, the fear, the surprise, the shock..the lack of knowing.

Then someone had looked at Rose and then others had looked, ..and then the whispers started.

Daniel had tried to protect her. Had tried to argue that the suspicions were rubbish, cruel, and unfair. He had shielded Rose while her mother had sobbed, pleading that her daughter be left alone.
Rose found out then that she had not been born to them. She found out she had been abandoned, forgotten, left to God knows what at the pillar outside the Church. One person had painfully pointed out that even the wretch that had abandoned her, hadn't even tried to bring her inside the Church, because they must have known she was ''bad''.

Two weeks later, the crop that had been flourishing was being burned out, because of a blight. A week later, the lobster baskets brought in less for the first time in years. They started counting the years then. It was agreed upon that eighteen years ago the village had struggled. That eighteen years ago the village had been a darker, more barren place.

Who decided Rose was to blame, she never truly knew. But six months of nets bringing in less fish, and baskets less lobster, along with the failing of crops while accusations hurt and wounded her, had left the little town a shadow of itself, and the people had come. On a Sunday morning. Even the holy man was with them, dressed in his black cloak with his prayer beads coiled around his fingers. He stated haltingly that he didn't know if she were a witch or a demon.. And the crowd had moaned and sobbed. But he swore as he flicked holy water upon her, that she would burn. There was a net hurled over Rose, and she was pulled from her mothers grappling arms, as Daniel asked God to forgive them, and he was struck on the forehead and knocked to the ground.

At the water side, Rose found what was to be her faith. She did not beg, nor plead, no speak one word. She was not being difficult, but she was accused of being proud, when in fact she had been terrified. These were people she had lived with all her life, now standing in a ring around her, afraid to lay one hand upon her. The Priest spoke of demons living among them. Demons that had deceived and guided the village closer to hell, by sending one of their kind to poison their minds with greed. And they had grown greedy he had reminded them. Grown greedy for more wealth. Wealth that had come to the village, the day Rose was found.

Rose believed God abandoned her then.

She was cast into a small boat, and it was towed across behind another rowed by two men, to one of the small islands within sight of the town. An island so small she soon learned the longest walk she could take was no longer than ten minutes in any direction. An island that grew nothing only wind burned pine trees too stubborn to die, and and tufts of harsh grass. This was to be her prison..her home..her purgatory until they knew what to do with her. For they were afraid to kill her..to burn her as a witch. Not when they believed the village needed her. Needed her to sustain its wealth.

She had killed one young man at a touch. She had grieved him. Feared her own hands. She had feared her neighbors and had been terrified for her parents...or the parents that had raised her. The people of Little Gull knew they would have to find a way to make her bring back the health to their crops and have the nets and baskets fill again.

But how? How do you force what you fear to be what you don't fear?
 
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Something simple.

Then and Now.

On returning home to a town she'd left many years ago, my lady meets the guy who had been her boy friend all through senior school. They had been the couple everyone bet would make it. But they didn't. ( A little collaboration here and we'll find out why they split. ie a rumor, a lie, one of them cheating, one of them accused of cheating.)

Anyway, she's back to set up a business/take over the running of an existing business, and they meet. And the spark is still there. Even after years apart, with their own lives in between, an attraction that shouldn't ever have been damaged is still there. We can drama it up, or it can be left as simple as that.

I imagine them to be in their early to mid thirties, and physically realistic, be it good or bad.
Both of them mature enough to know what's right for them, ...but the reason they split would play a part as to that last step in trusting each other entirely.

It's open to a male writer who can add his own part to the story. It won't be a never ending thread. Please read first post to this thread also to ensure compatibility.

Thank you.
 
Posts 5 and 13 have been updated with pictures that might strike a thought or two.

:rose:
 
A Twist In the Tale. Available.

Georgina, or Georgie to her friends, has from the tender age of nine believed herself in love with one of her brother Jame's best friend, the Right Honorable Thaddeus Wilton, when on one of the summer hunts, he crowned her '' Queen of the Hunt.'' He was then twenty five, and with Jame's and their other dearest childhood friend, Lord Jasper Cuthridge , very desirably in demand at all parties, equestrian events, and seasonal coming out balls. Georgina watched him court, woo, love and leave an ever growing list of young ladies. His lack of stability in his private life, was simply down to one fact in Georgies mind...he hadn't met the right woman.

If hope follows her wishes, Thad will realize that Georgie is the woman for him eventually. Her 18th birthday approaches, and her second season in society in which it is expected she finds a husband.

Georgie of course has found her future husband, or so she believes, and enlists the help Jasper; for Georgina decides to practice her seduction technique on Jasper, and the fun begins as she finds herself more and more attracted to her brother’s other dear friend—not the charming Thad who’s held her heart for nine years but the protective, in-over-his-head Jasper.


**


This could be fun...in fact I want it to be fun, sexy, romantic, enticing in the tradition of old world romance. While not a comedy, humor would play a big part in the story.
Depending upon the interest and writing skill of a prospective male partner, it can be a multiple character option for a partner to write both Jasper and Thad. Or Thad can be a very active NPC.

It's open to a mature male writer with a sense of humor, a fondness to longish posts, and an ability to create his own part of the story. All of the above is open to interpretation. I look forward to hearing from you, and I will be searching for the appropriate picture to suit Georgies role.
 
Kiss and Tell. Taken and in Play with Fish_Tales.

(It's a bit rough around the edges, but might be fun to explore and polish. Also inspired by a book jacket, but adapted to my own needs.)

Jess Grimes has seen more than her fair share of testosterone. Growing up with four overly protective brothers was one thing. Now a mountain man named Jacob Doran has invaded a peaceful day of soul-searching at her grandmother's secluded cabin.

Sure, Jess was trespassing on his private property when he found her, but did he have to pull a gun on her? There's more to this longhaired man of mystery, but she's not sure she wants to stick around to find out what. A storm hits, wild with fury, and she's pretty much trapped with him, and he's stuck with her. It's apparent at this point Jacob's seclusion is self imposed. She can see by the paper work, password protected computers, and array of book shelves that he's a writer of sorts.
What she doesn't know is Jacob was one of the worlds most wanted covert spies. His talent down the years leaving him in demand Governments around the world, to the point he's almost a ''wanted man''.

That she found him, even if accidentally is deeply troubling for a man who has taken great care not to be found, and who just wants to retire and write his fictionalized books, enjoy ''his'' mountain, and be forgotten about.. He's also got the most beautiful mouth she's ever seen.




As always I hope you enjoy, and that I might hear from you . The usual apply..ie open to a mature male writer, who has read my first introduction post on this thread. Thank you. Pm's only.
 
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Bit of tidying up on this just now. Two ideas are new, but I've also taken down about five others that didn't seem to appeal.

Enjoy.
 
My Interactive Couples Plays.

From my own OOC's.

My Letter To You.. With Marauder13.

Kiss And Tell. With Fish_Tales


Played with my thanks.



All above OOc Ideas are on hold/withdrawn for the time being. Thank you.
 
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