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left-out-but-not-alone · 30 days

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Hello, all!

I’m 20 and I have been roleplaying for years. Roleplaying to me is creating a story that has endless possibilities. I write best in MxF romances as the F role, and prefer writing with other women for the most part. You must be 18+ to interact, preferably 19+. I write literate, advanced literate, to novella! Yet, quality over quantity, and length can be adjusted depending on the situation (i.e. back and forth dialogue).

My favorite genres are historical. Medieval (fantasy preferred but not required) has my heart, yet I also find I enjoy a viking or pirate setting very much if not equally. The best stories have romance in them, angst and drama only bettering it! I also have a sweet spot for the characters eventually coming to have children together.

I love all sorts of different subplots, but there are things you must know:

1) I do not want to be the only one writing this story. Please, share your ideas! Throw in twists and turns!

2) I love ooc talk. I will happily gush with you about these characters.

3) I will get responses to you as soon as I can!

4) IF I use faceclaims, they will be realistic, or anything that is not anime. I ask that you do not either.

If you would like to do a fandom roleplay, I strictly write with OCs. I am not familiar with many fandoms, but if you would like to write in one as a character, it will have to be with the understanding that mine would have no knowledge of the world and must be from a foreign land (or from modern times, as cliche as that is).

If you’re interested, reach out! I’m happy to make some plots with you or share my ideas!

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left-out-but-not-alone · 6 months

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The flakes flattened beneath the soles of the creature, strolling leisurely through the white lands as its rider scanned her surroundings, looking for the object of her travel. Hardly any skin was uncovered, the only opening being the parting of fabrics to reveal a sharp jade gaze. The wrap about her head flowed beyond her shoulders to her bosom, a filtered puff of condensation leaving the dark emerald cloth, cuing her slow breath, unlabored and undisturbing to the slumbering surroundings. Held in a navy coat, fastened by leather strings and wooden buttons, it did what it could to preserve and hold what body heat was produced from her form.

The beast she rode was common amongst the South, called the Loda, a yak-like beast with thick, yet silken furs. The coat was perfect for the lining of a winter frock, as the South could freeze any over. To be unprepared for the snow storms was to be prepared to die, yet all Loda seemed entirely unperturbed by it, shedding their hairs after the season to not exhaust themselves with heat in the warm moons. Antlered and sturdy, they were the perfect riding companion, prepared to knock away predators and near incapable of being grounded themselves. The one she rode was not particularly old, leaning on the younger side, nearing its prime, yet adequately trained as the sometimes temperamental species could be.

It stiffened beneath Ahansi, the loda’s breath shifting pace against her straddling legs, dark eyes flicking. A hand reached from the reins the elf had previously held, patting the tensed shoulder, stroking placatingly as she urged the creature on with a gentle heel, the animal continuing at a slower pace, when only thirty seconds later, it halted and huffed once more.

Ahansi’s head snapped to the side, catching sight of a figure within the periphery of her vision, her mount shifting its position in a circle, equally spooked. Flicking away the tail of her coat, a blade was pulled from a brace upon her thigh, prepared as she whipped around, taking her loda forwards and beginning to near the valley. Snow filled the air as dust, clouding her vision and forcing her to rely upon her steed, every muscle within her body tensed. Slowly, she could make out a dark figure beyond. Hulking, towering, overall massive, and her jades narrowed.

“You are within Octun land!” She called loudly, every word pronounced with perfection. “You have crossed your boundary; I advise you to return! They say a storm brews; return to your shelter!”

~~~~~~~

The figure could be a vicious beast that your OC is hunting, or your OC! I am looking for an 𝗠𝘅𝗙 romance. If you would like to discuss or simply jump in, feel free! 𝟭𝟵+ 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 (I am 19+)!

All that is established is that two peoples (clans, species, etc.) have a strained relationship, thus are territorial. The rest of the details can be worked out together.

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left-out-but-not-alone · 3 years

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The Bloom in the Frost Part 3 {Thranduil x Reader}

Hello, my lovely beans! Welcome to my first fanfic. Please like and repost if you enjoy it!

Warnings: None!

Summary: You are thrown into the Elven world at a young age and are raised in the world of your dreams. Knowing everything that is to come seems to be more of an annoyance than a curse, and you wonder if this emotionally-constipated, pain-in-the-rear royal will ever get off his high horse and listen to what you have to say.

@candypace @nijiru

You sat against the slick and cool wall of your cell with an undignified amount of excitement within your grin. A laugh wished to escape you, utterly thrilled by how the ignorant were so easy to play, especially when they sat themselves upon silks and the weight of jewels kept their heads tilted back, keeping those they declared beneath themselves out of sight, and, therefore, out of mind. It tickled you, it gave you the perfect opportunity to do something you had craved to do for so long a time, the only difficulty being in quelling the upturn firmly tugging at your lips.

Now, everyone is ignorant, whether they wish to be or not, as it is entirely impossible to understand something that one has never thought to think about. The difference was between those who sought to broaden their understanding and empathy, and those who did not. You fell into the former category, having been taught the dangers of ignorance in your original existence, but...that realm and the one you had been thrust into had quite a different stance upon such things. If color of the flesh was such a divisive factor there, entirely different species were a problem of untold repercussions. Especially between the elves, who had the gift of immortality, and those who had days that could be numbered.

It had played in your mind that their indignation to ‘Man’ was perhaps their desire to stay unattached, to refrain from the pain of relational ligature that was bound to break. You knew of the ‘fading’ of an elf, but you felt that did not excuse the lack of politeness by any means. Quite honestly, for people who had lived for centuries, they acted quite a bit more immature than you had expected, and there was something...drab about the atmosphere. There was a dullness that plagued their endless halls and stuck to the wood and stone like mould. It was noticeable in silence, in the echoes of a party where wine was spilt down throats like water, the ones you never attended, and never wished to do so, now when the laughter felt empty, the music --undoubtedly beautiful-- a funeral march of the soul. You did not quite understand why it made you feel so ill, but it did.

It was not a constant shadow, no, but one that whispered occasionally to remind you of its presence, but in the silence of your cell, it was decidedly non bothersome, allowing you to forget of its presence. In fact, there was some peace in closing your eyes and simply imagining how furious the Elvenking was.

Said elf was sat upon his throne, brow drawn in a glare cemented upon nothing, one whisker-less lip draw to slight curl towards a nostril in a silent snarl, his chin set upon his thumb and finds curtaining his mouth in part, leant upon his elbow.

Liliane stood before His Majesty’s place, head ducked and cheeks burning like a scolded child, entirely uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the advisors, desperate to lay blame upon something so that their king was not entirely at fault for sending an innocent woman to the dungeons.

“Are you certain it was not she who nudged you, perhaps? Led you into perhaps knocking the item with your elbow?” One attempted, but Liliane shook her head, knowing within her heart it was not right to allow the blame to fall upon you, not when you had displayed precious kindness to her.

“No, sir,” she answered quietly, still not daring to pry her vision from the rather interesting ground.

“Perhaps--”

“Silence!” The king roared, before a breath escaped him, all of his pride upon the edge, this search for blame only a humiliation. His steely gaze turned to the young elf. “How long have you been working within these walls?”

“A single moon, sire, since the Festival of Spring.”

He utterly despised how he could not scold you for thrusting blame onto a colleague within a second. A loathing of your clever avoidance was fostered. You had been right in saying the elleth had been in an unfair position, as one would not be cleaning his chambers with so little experience. It was a mistake that he could not blame the human for, one that he could not justify your imprisonment for.

Perhaps the human’s attitude? Recalling the interaction, Thranduil was disappointed to remember that the mortal had bowed upon his entrance and followed his command of silence, and making eye contact with him was not considered an offense, so attempting to keep you locked away upon such charges would only make him appear foolish and unjust. The daughter of Man had followed every command he had given without fault, you were blameless in the interaction, forcing any disturbance to be within his own responsibility, and he came to understand that ease in which you were sent away.

You had known exactly what you were doing. Each word was thought through, it had to have been to ensure this outcome, and anger swelled within his chest, yet he dared not let another screech lose, as one too many lost impact of fear and brought forth the question of stability.

That devilish minx.

The king stood, a flick of his slender hand sending the robe cascading behind the steps he stalked down, eyes feigning distraction with a distinct lack of attention.

"Bring the mortal from the dungeon."

Silence followed, the advisors sharing glances, an unceremonious jaw dropped.

"Aran nin--"

"It was not under discussion. I shall see the innocence of this maiden myself."

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left-out-but-not-alone · 4 years

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The Bloom In The Frost Part 2 Thranduil x Reader

Part 1: X

Hello, my lovely beans! Welcome to my first fanfic. Please like and repost if you enjoy it!

Oh. My. Gosh. I am crying. I-I can barely see the keyboard, my tears are making the letters swim! When I saw the comments I screamed, I was so happy! I highly encourage you to continue commenting, it encouraged me to write this last night, after I saw them! @candypace I love you, so much. @nijiru I love you too, you are my first person to ever ask me to tag them (though this is my first fic, but I will forever hold you close to my heart).

Warnings: none!

Summary: You are thrown into the elven world at a young age and are raised in the world of your dreams. Knowing everything that is to come seems to be more of an annoyance than a curse, and you wonder if this emotionally-constipated, pain-in-the-rear royal will ever get off his high horse and listen to what you have to say.

‘Death, I welcome thee.’

You straightened, sucking in a breath through your nose and letting the oxygen burn in your lungs as you turned.

There, in all of his glory, stood the ever majestic King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. After his glacial gaze combed through the room, reassessing his territory and seeing what other damage might have been wrought, they came to settle upon you.

Perhaps, settle wasn’t the right word.

Strike.

And, as any stricken animal would feel, the need to defend and hiss bubbled within your bosom.

You released the steam in your lungs before the kettle would scream.

“Your Majesty,” Both you and Liliane spoke together, gripping your much less regal skirts-that did not flow like water down your hips like his robe did his shoulders-as you curtsied.

“Must I ask again for the hard of hearing?” He peered down a twisted nose and lip at you.

You breathed again.

Closing your eyes for just a millisecond, you collected yourself and slammed up the icy exterior you had so very carefully mounded and shaved.

‘Don’t kill the ignorant, merely enjoy your superiority in the reflection of their blindness.’

“No, your Highness. We were simply shaken, forgive the tardiness in our response.” You flirted with his pedestal easily, just waiting to push it over. The promise to do so in time was all that kept you from it now.

His eyes danced across you yet again, perhaps debating how such a lowly being came into his kingdom.

“Am I to assume you are the one responsible for the destruction of this precious heirloom?”

‘Looks like I must topple the patriarchy. What a shame.’

“In all due respect, my lord, it would not be my own fault but the Masters that wrongfully put an unprepared and untrained servant in a position that required much more of what was lacking.” Your gaze was unshifting as you shamelessly bared your eyes to him, such a thing quite bold for someone of your stature.

“You dare speak of your authorities in such a manner,” he hissed.

“I mean only to help a maiden put in an unfair position.” You shot back quickly. You waited for the inevitable with something akin to...smugness and satisfaction behind your (s/c) visage.

Liliane, from beside you, glanced at you for a split second, eyes widening, before returning to look at the king’s gleaming boots.

You...you still did not look down. You held your chin and your shoulders open, baring your throat for the bite. Your neck was raised to perfectly copy his oh, so royal posture, hands laying plainly beyond your hips.

Disgust and fury was brewing behind his porcelain features, easily fractured with calculated prodding. You assumed it was an innately human trait, or perhaps your subconscious and ever incessant need to mock those who looked down upon you without even crossing a written rule.

“You dare,” the consonant was struck hard as he loomed over you, yet you refused to break eye contact, “You dare victimize yourself for your own shortcomings and say their origins are that of those who have graciously given you a place in my palace? You are a disgrace to our kindness.”

“Your majesty-“

“Do not speak any further!”

And you did not, merely glancing to a furiously blushing elleth beside you. How lovely and horrific it was to be your person. How wonderful it was to know how to make this elven glory crumble beneath his own assumptions, yet how enraging it was to not act upon the hollers of the carnal creature waiting to ravage the poor man and his regal posse.

“Your highness,” Liliane whispered, meek, a single look all the push she needed to resign to her fate.

He ignored her for a moment, raising a pedicured hand to her to invoke silence as the guards entered.

“You will follow them to the dungeons for the time being. You will be sent away soon enough to the people you belong with soon enough.” He found it off putting how undisturbed the human looked as he delivered your sentence, perfectly unperterbed, how proudly you held yourself and...how he hated that.

He hated that your brow did not twitch, he hated that no emotion slipped to play puppet with your visage. He hated that your lips were the only thing to turn, and towards the stars at that. He hated that you looked him straight into the eye with piercing (e/c) even with a crick in your neck.

He watched as you were taken, and he felt how he lacked in satisfaction as the gaping vacuum of reaction had swallowed any that dared to form in the void. He didn’t remember the last time he hungered for an invisible meal.

His hand fisted at his side, his pristine feathers unusually ruffled by a mere mortal, and that musing only sent them into more disarray. He was the Elven King, his beauty was that of legends, and his exterior known to be impassable. No human should have disrupted him.

Until the door was closed, Thranduil did not look upon the elleth that was once beside the dastardly woman until the door was shut with a foreboding boom.

He looked to her nearing prone form, her trembling fingers a snack to replenish his ego.

You would have called it air in a chip bag-seemingly full, but set up for disappointment once you look inside. No one here would understand that analogy, of course, and, hopefully, they would never.

“Speak,” he commanded.

“Your majesty,” Liliane squeaked, “it was not (Y/n) that broke your property...but myself.”

His blue eyes widened and he had the niggling temptation to throw the lovely armchair behind the elleth at a wall.

With boiling fury and embarrassment for the salt catalyst, he realized he had played right into your calloused hands.

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left-out-but-not-alone · 4 years

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‘The Bloom In The Frost’ Part 1 Thranduil x Reader

Hello, my lovely beans! Welcome to my first fanfic. Please like and repost if you enjoy it!

Warnings: language (only one or two words, but I like to make my viewers aware)

You were an inferno with an ice casing. You were Spring and all of its storms. You were the impossible doing the probable. You were a servant for the elven king.

You had been thrust into middle earth as a teenager. A lowly elven woman took pity on the strangely dressed girl with the (s/c) skin and short (h/c) hair. And, so, you became a maid for the elven king. Your former world held a forever dreaming child, bursting with imaginings to hide away from your painful reality. You were referred to as a Renaissance woman when you were fifteen in that world, well-rounded in your multitudes of passions in arts and sciences in the modern world. But, you could never imagine your future and nothing seemed right. The hereafter had a wall before it that you could not see through.

You finished growing up in seven years, aging thrice as fast as other children you had met. At twenty-five you seemed to be an infant to them. For everything you had, you fought for. You fought for grace to blend in, you fought for elegance in your movements. It was not natural like it was to the rest. You even fought for life. Your health would cripple you, but you would grit your teeth and push through. You fought the want to spill the future. You found sanctuary in the libraries, late at night when no sane person would be awake.

Thank the Lord you had never been and shall never be sane.

Perhaps that was what led to today. They had recently taken on a new helper, and they were currently cleaning the King’s chambers. How the new elleth had managed to climb the ladder of responsibilities so fast, you would never know, but it was clear she did not belong there. She neglected corners or moving things safely away from her reach. This meant there was twice the work for you, and you bit your lip to keep from chastising the elleth, who had only taunted you like a child when you had tried to advise her.

When you heard a yelp and crash behind you, you inwardly reeled. It was bad enough having to reign in your frustration, and you were quite close to bubbling over with the lack of care and mass of racism you faced. You turned to see a vase smashed on the ground, and Liliane with her mouth ajar.

“Are you hurt?” Was the first thing out of your mouth, maternal instincts overriding your anger to instead insure the health of your witless colleague, though it admittedly had a bite to it.

The brunette shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

“Look at me,” You quickly commanded, rushing over to her to carefully guide her away from the mess. “Breathe, darling. You should not have been here in the first place and that was not your fault. You are new and not properly trained. I know I am younger than you and am human, but I have more experience, so listen to me next time, or anyone else for that matter.”

She nodded, breathless.

“I-I can’t lose my job, I cannot, my mother will be so angry-oh!” Her hands clapped to her cheeks.

Long ago, you had discovered that elves were much more emotional than they let on.

‘This little crap better not be-’

“If you are expecting me to take the blame for this, you are sorely mistaken,” You set the words in stone, not allowing them to be ceded by the stars.

“But-”

“It is not entirely your fault, I will talk to the Master. It was his own-”

“What has happened here,” a low voice growled.

‘Death, I welcome thee.’

Part 2: X

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