Fx Female Literate, Fantasy, Lesbian, Fun!

[Exemplary Characters]

I am incredibly thirsty for some good lesbian roleplaying. It has been so, so long that I'm using my second request thread to specifically ask for it. Please, I beg you: break my dry spell!

(Introduction) (Rules) (Writing Guidelines) (Written Example) (Kinks)

• I write pornography in a fantasy setting with a story. I write filthily and I write well.
  

  Exemplary Characters is a fantastic partner. Collaborative, detailed, fantastic characters with great depth. Plenty of spice, tons of fun, and one of the best times you'll have RPing with someone.

  As a storyteller, Exemplary Characters uses rich descriptions of scenery and character to paint a perfect picture in your head. They are very imaginative and the fantasy elements that they use/play with you can almost see. The steamy scenes are no exception. They are well-versed in describing the physical, emotional, and mental acts of a passionate sexual encounter. As a partner Exemplary Characters is incredibly patient, thoughtful, communicative, and fun. They only require the same level of energy from you.

  Are you interested? Then click through these slides to learn the essentials. My currently available characters are below.
• • English language only.
  • All website rules need to be followed.
  • 18+ characters only, no exceptions.
  • I will not write sexual scenes involving bodily waste, non-consent, torture, cannibalism, death, or paedophilia. I do not wish to discuss these things.
  • Communication is mandatory! If there's an issue, talk to me about it, and we can try to find a compromise. Life comes first and I'm really laid back, so if you have problems, just tell me and we'll figure it out.
  • Boundaries are mandatory! If I explicitly say no to something, and you include it anyway, we're going to have words.
• • You're going to need a basic level of literacy for us to get on well. No judgement, I started out struggling to write sentences, but for me to have fun you need to have a fundamental degree of storytelling fluency when it comes to writing a character. If you struggle to write simple sentences, we're not a good match.
  • I expect my partners to make an effort to write well. I don't expect your grammar to be perfect, I don't expect you to be able to write out a novel on demand, but I do expect you to make an effort. You'll get as much from me as you put into it.
  • I don't put out paragraphs every time - sometimes a sentence will do the job. On average I write a good few paragraphs for each post. Do not feel you need to match what I put out, but do write enough to cover what you want to say.
  • I write in third person present tense by default. I'm willing to write third person past tense. You must write in third person, and agree the tense with me before we start.
  • I write from the perspective of an omniscient narrator. I enjoy "GMing" scenes with my collaborators (and I'm very good at it), so talk with me about boundaries for describing your character.
  • If you want me to help you with your writing or storytelling, let me know. I'm a good teacher.
• The following is an introductory post I wrote for a role-play with a friend. Their character was called Veridian, and I was setting up the scene for them. It gives you an illustration of both the standard I typically write to, and how I write content around my partner's characters (with permission) when setting the stage for their replies.
  
  
  Setting the Scene for Veridian

  Travelling has afforded Veridian many novel experiences, not all of them easy, but certainly all of them memorable. As a woman of the road she makes her living however she can, and one of the easiest has been to sell her companionship to whoever has the coin for as long as she can bear their company. Being a tiefling – distantly descended from some infernal being – has meant that she is desired by many people, her novelty enough to turn heads and stir passions even before people take measure of her considerable beauty. But that same dark novelty translates to prejudice, and so it is more honest to say that she sells her companionship to whoever has the coin for as long as they will tolerate her ancestry.
  
  No, her journey has not been easy. But now she finds herself in an unusual situation, one threatening to be quite memorable indeed.
  
  A week ago she was visited in her camp by a young man, handsome enough if plain in demeanour, who brought with him a small bag of gold. She opened her caravan to him expecting that he wanted what all men who visit her want, but then he surprised her by declining to step inside. He explained that he was visiting her on behalf of another, someone who wished to arrange a protracted affair but who could not join her in camp. If she was prepared to go to meet them she would be very well rewarded for her company; the gold he carried was an introduction, a taster of what was on offer.
  
  Of course she took the gold. As for her questions, however, he offered few answers. The person he was visiting for had reason to be discreet. He would not describe them, save to say that they were wealthy and specifically interested in her, though why her specifically remained vague. The only point he was adamant about was that they were not avoiding visiting her publicly out of regard for their reputation being damaged by association with her – he stressed this with some emphasis.
  
  There was little else productive to discuss; he gave the location and left. After he had gone, Veridian counted the gold, some three hundred pieces, scoured it to make sure it was real, even looked it over with her mystical sight. The coins were true. But was the offer?
  
  The question nagged at Veridian for two days, until eventually she relented and packed up her caravan.
• These vary a little for each character, with some things under "Yes" or "Maybe" becoming "Favourites" with them. Everything listed as a "No" is never acceptable. If your interest isn't listed, don't be afraid to reach out and ask, as the worst I'll do is politely turn you down.
  
  

  Favourites​	Yes​	Maybe​	No​
  Anal Sex Casual Sex Cunnilingus Facial Fellatio Frotting Inhuman Anatomy Internal Ejaculation Kissing Knotting / Tying Licking Mammary Sex Masturbation Multiple Orgasms Multiple Partners Multiple Penetration Pegging Rimming Romantic Sex Rough Sex Squirting Tribadism Vaginal Sex Beings: Human Anthropomorphic (Dragon / Reptile) Demon / Devil Dragon Monster (Ask) Vampire Genders: Effeminate Male Female Queer Genders​	Anal Virginity Biting Breast / Nipple Play Clothed Exhibitionism Inexperienced Partner Intercrural Large Penis Magic Milking Semen Oral Virginity Orientation Play Prostitution Rope Bondage Scratching Small Penis Swallowing Semen Throat Penetration Vaginal Virginity Very Experienced Partner Voyeurism Beings: Anthropomorphic (Arachnid / Insect) Anthropomorphic (Avian) Anthropomorphic (Canine) Elf Ghost / Shade Undead Genders: Male	Blindfolded Breeding Disobedient Slave Drawing Blood Enforced Chastity​ Fear Master/Mistress and Pet Messy Swallowing Blood Transformation Beings: Anthropomorphic (Ask) Divinity	Paedophilia Death / Snuff Torture Nonconsensual Scat / Watersports Vore

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Obsession of the Moment

Nalsa Ilsasem, the Hot Arcanist with a Very Focused Temper

Nalsa Ilsasem, the Hot Arcanist with a Very Focused Temper

Nalsa was born to two loving parents, one of whom was human and the other was a heavenborn (someone whose ancestry traces back to angelic beings, and who has inherited some of their nature). Nalsa's heavenborn father was well-regarded in the small town they called home, where he worked as a herbalist and healer, while her mother was the local school teacher and librarian. As a result she was raised in peace, with happiness, taught curiosity and a love of reading.

That was, until she started to reach puberty, which came on at a surprisingly early age. One of her naturally amber eyes began to take on a dull, ashen colour, and a streak of silvery-white appeared among her metallic, blonde hair. This is when the nightmares began.

Because her parents were both educated, it wasn't long until they worked out what had happened.

Some years ago, her father had dreamed a strange dream. He'd been at a nearby village for a birth, and had stopped there overnight. He dreamt a beautiful woman with grey eyes approached him, and that he slept with her. The next morning he woke up feeling tired, disquieted, but otherwise thought it was just a dream. And not long after, his wife told him she was pregnant.

An omen? A bad omen. The dream was real: he had been enchanted by a terrible, monstrous, and rare creature, a witch given so over to fell powers that they warped her being into a terrible hag. She had used her magic to compel him to lay with her...

...And then, after the birth of his daughter with his wife? The hag had switched the babe with her own.

Nalsa. Nalsa was his daughter, but not his wife's. Nalsa was a thing of dark purpose, a changeling.

When she started to mature, Nalsa's true nature became known, bringing her an aptitude for magic and growing awareness of a darkness that called to her. The realisation nearly ended her parents' marriage. But they were good people, and they stayed together, for her sake. Nalsa might have been born a creature descended from evil, might have replaced their true daughter, but she was still her father's daughter, and it wasn't her fault.

So they raised her as best they could, tried to teach her to manage her feelings, encouraged her interests. Today, were you to meet Nalsa, you'd probably get very tried of her. She's strikingly intelligent, skilled in the arcane arts, highly motivated and active, slightly impatient, quick to laugh and quicker to get drinks in. She's just a little too much, too able, too friendly. And most annoyingly of all, she's a genuinely good person with a real stick up her ass for following the law.

If a law is inherently unjust she'll break it, so too if it's made in direct service to evil. But otherwise? Otherwise she'll follow the law, no matter how stupid, no matter how annoying, no matter how poorly thought out or inconvenient. She insists on the statutory rights of criminals, the need for rehabilitation, on the application of mercy through the medium of law. She's not blindly devoted to the rule of law (she wouldn't condemn someone who steals to live when they're desperate), but she's the sort of person who won't condone the breaking of duly enacted law without strong reason.

Add to this her skill as a mage, and her particular speciality in manipulating fire at stone-melting temperatures, and her willingness to work for hire, constantly on the move... She's easy to kind of like, but not to get along with. Annoyingly, she has her shit too together.

Here's what Nalsa does: she takes work requiring a wizard, especially if it involves burning things or vaporising them, and she travels around getting paid well and having drinks after a job well done. She donates 10% to charity, of course.

And here's who Nalsa is: every night when there's nothing to do, she drinks heroically at the local tavern, then goes back to her room, shuts the door, and keeps drinking, drinking like a villain, alone, until she passes out.

Deep down, buried deep beneath her self-control, Nalsa's every instinct is to be a terrible person. She feels the call of her true mother, wherever she is. In her is an endless, unceasing font of anger, rage, malevolence, narcissism, and sadistic viciousness. Ordinary mortals, when they get angry or sad, they can purge it with catharsis. There is an end. They'll eventually run out of tears, feel tired, and the emotion will lose its edge.

Not for Nalsa. It's endless. If something annoys her, she stays furious, forever.

It's eating her alive. Nalsa is a naturally talented sorceress. The darkness in her is eager kindling. But rather than give into it, she forced herself to study as a wizard, applied those lessons to her innate skill, becoming an arcanist. Her destructive impulses find expression through her fire magic. But outside of her magical studies, in which she buries herself for sanctuary, Nalsa has nothing.

She know the hag will come for her one day, and so she has to stay away from her family, the home she loves. She lives every day prepared to meet, and kill, her birth mother. Every day, she wakes up, cleans off the vomit or worse using magic, cleans and maintains her clothes, puts the room back together, bathes and dresses, then practices in a mirror until her smile looks right. And then she goes out to face the world.

What else can she do? Nothing can fix her. It's not a problem in her head, it's a poison in her soul. And if she gives in to despair, the rage will burn her out, leave her an ashen, grey-eyed husk like her birth monster. She either swallows it, or vents it upon the world.

When she was young, her parents sought answers from the gods and temples, but none of them could help her. She simply is what she is. The gods can guide, could even change mortal forms, but they can't change the soul.

So, instead of worshipping the known gods, she clings to an old myth she read once during her arcane pursuits. Ancient texts from fire cults whose writings she studied talked of a forgotten goddess, the Lady of Purifying Flame, who could burn any evil from the world. Nalsa finds this idea comforting. Perhaps, if such a goddess exists, she will one day take notice, burn away the things Nalsa has in her before she loses control.

Or maybe just burn her away, leaving no ashes behind.

Still, she donates to the good cults and churches and causes, and tries to make merit as best she can. One refused her once, said her money was blood money. She thought about that for a long, long time. She donates less frequently now. She drinks more.

And the thing is? Nalsa is wrong. People can help her. There feelings can't be fixed, can't be removed, but they can be supported. There isn't hope of a cure, but there is hope of something else, another way to manage.

But she's an alcoholic. And gods help everyone if – and almost certainly when – she hits rock bottom.

Themes and Sexuality

In development. Come help me find out!

Example Writing

The annoying thing about Temples to the Risen Sun was that they were always painfully well lit, sunlight flooding through the great, round, stained glass window above the central altar to illuminate the main chamber and throw dramatic shadows from the circular rows of pillars supporting the roof. Even in the dead of night they would be bright as noon, their sandstone walls glittering, and during the high days of summer they shone even brighter as the sun reached its apogee and added to the magical daylight. Worshippers of the Goddess would always find Her warmth and blessing waiting for them in Her temples — just as the sun would always rise to bring forth the new dawn.

Nalsa had found this comforting when she was a child. She had fond memories of being fussed over whenever her mother brought her to services, and had even grown used to the faithful stroking her hair, as though some of the divine grace that surely flowed through her veins would rub off onto them. At first she had missed the attention, on the days when her father took her, but as she grew older she appreciated his company, enjoyed being made comparatively ordinary by the literal glow he shed when he was on holy ground. It was nice to be doted on as a child, but as she grew into a precocious girl she could never escape the feeling that it was what she was, rather than who she was, that the congregation saw.

“We are sanctified by the presence of angelkin,” was what the clergy always said. Mm.

Her heritage was almost certainly what had landed her the job with which she was now, technically, engaged. Of course a daughter of the heavens could be trusted — trusted to accompany a priestess hundreds of miles away, trusted to protect her honour, trusted to clear the site of the new temple promptly and defend it until it was sanctified to the Goddess. Most importantly, she could be trusted not to overcharge for her services. The ease with which they trusted her infuriated Nalsa, but she hadn’t shown it, hadn’t done anything other than nod and smile piously and ask for a sum so ridiculously large that they would surely baulk and refuse. Except…

She sighed, and turned her page.

…Except they had agreed, and insisted on paying up front.

Fuck.

So now she was sat on the end of a pew she had dragged seven inches to the left and into the shade, one leg crossed over the other and boot swinging quickly from side to side as she squinted at the small book in her hands. The delicate pair of reading glasses she wore helped with the light, their enchanted lenses darkening to make the room less overwhelming and the neat script more legible against the shining page. Half in the shadow, half in the light, she had been sitting there for three hours, five minutes, and twenty nine seconds, waiting for the priestess who was supposed to meet her at sunset.

After the first minute she had been amused. After the first five she had felt superior. After the first ten she had been smiling. But thirty minutes into her wait she had begun to be irked, and forty five minutes into it she had crossed her legs and folded her arms. After an hour of waiting she had given up and taken out her notebook, studying its arcane formula to occupy her mind and make the time pass faster. She was presently on her third read-through, forcing herself to see each character as though encountering it for the first time, training her mind with the discipline of rote study.

That is how the priestess found her when she finally arrived. Nalsa’s back was straight, her body wound tight as a spring, the vibrant oranges and golds of her silken robes muted in the shade then blazing where they crossed into the artificial light. Her long, weirdly metallic, blonde hair was bound up in a prim bun atop her head, though two tresses – one of them silvery white – were worn loose to frame her face beneath her bangs. Her shaking boot was a pale tan, as were the three belts clasped pragmatically around her waist to bind her clothing and secure the various pouches, scroll cases, wand holster and tome clasps that hung over the edge of the pew and betrayed her profession as a–

She snapped shut the book. “You’re late,” she announced, her voice clear and remote, academic and authoritative.

[Partner's Post Omitted]

As the latecomer offered her apologies Nalsa did not immediately look her way, uncrossing her legs and smoothing the hem of her robe across her knees before she stood. She was not tall for a woman – perhaps a little over five feet in height – and she knew she wouldn’t have cut an imposing figure were it not for her loud and luxurious clothing, but she also know that the way she carried herself – controlled and exacting, swift and sharp – added inches to her stature in the eyes of onlookers. She took off her glasses and secreted them in their protective case on her waist, replaced her book in its belt-worn binding, then forced a professional smile onto her face before she turned.

Then she saw the priestess for the first time, and her expression became still as glass.

Fuck. Another heavenborn. That explained… too much.

She did not pause for long; anyone watching them would think she was only studying the priestess’ metallic skin in casual assay. Yet the other woman got a good look at her while she paused, looking from her flawlessly moisturised skin to the bright roots of her naturally and literally golden hair, from her pale red eyeshadow to the dark orange lipstick she wore on lips that smiled with the barest hint of superiority, from the vivid amber of her right eye to the pale ash of her left — and the faintly disconcerting lock of silver hair that hung right beside it.

Nalsa was beautiful, but slightly thin in her cheeks and about her eyes, as though her beauty was malnourished, drained by constant motion, an impression reinforced by her narrow limbs despite her visibly ample cleavage and full hips. Her clothing was obviously that of a wealthy magician or sorcerer, though the cut and style made it ambiguous which she was, too provocative and shapely for a typical academic but too deliberately practical for one to whom magical talent came easily. Yet hers was not the garb of one unaccustomed to fieldwork, for her tall boots came up to her knees like they were made for riding, and the hem of her robes lay just above them to sit beyond the reach of mud, above which her various arcane accessories showed preparedness for any occasion.

She was, at first glance, a stunning cipher, dressed to impress with both beauty and talent. And the way she stood, hands clasped firmly before her while her long legs spread her weight evenly, showed well that she knew it. She could have been anywhere between her early twenties and her late thirties, so confusing was her aura of boundless – yet still tightly bound – vitality.

“Nalsa Ilsasem,” she answered in a cordial and light tone as she strode forward, “PhD Natural Science, MPhil Occult Research, Fellow of the Society of Evokers, and Chartered Arcanist. A pleasure to make your acquaintance…” She lied magnificently as she bowed and reached for her hand. “...Blessed Sister? Or do you prefer something more casual?”

Her nimble fingers were bare, though her palms were wrapped in oddly dark, charcoal bandages. She didn't extend her hand to shake, but rather to grasp and kiss the priestess’ fingertips. Despite her bow, her gaze remained steady, and was focused on the heavenborn with searing intensity.

Other

I also have many other female characters, and I've listed them in my Female Requests thread. If Nalsa doesn't grab your attention, check them out!

I also consider playing characters on request, but it has to be for an idea I really like, so don't get your hopes up.

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Thank you for reading. I look forward to hearing from you.

 

[Exemplary Characters]

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