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- Joined
- Jul 19, 2017
About me–- You can call me Libi, Or Sapphire, or, If you wanna be fun and formal, you can call me the whole thing.
- I've been writing for 21 years, and RPing for 8 years.
- I perceive myself as quite literate and would like writing partners who view themselves as similar. Descriptions regarding both emotional and physical details from scene to scene is my preference, though I'm not seeking Novella sized posts, I prefer to stick around the 400-700 range, I can do longer on occasion, usually for intro scenes or the occasional secondary character/action sequence, but most of the time, I like to maintain around that word count so as to have a good back and forth.
- I most often do weekly posts, if not daily, it depends on my schedule, though, often I am unavailable during the weekends
- I of course have an F-list! The fave's are the ones I cannot do without so please at least give those a look first, the No's are not up for debate, while everything else is negotiable. Please let me know about your interests as well because if it's not in my 'no' category I will probably be up for it < 3 !
Plots Inspiration– (Please feel free to share your suggestions as well though!)
Sunny Tragedy, Sullen Virtue––
- Slice of life, slightly subverted sunny x grumpy pairing.
Less of a specific plot and more a desire to make these characters come to life and then plot from the ground up with someone intrigued by the concept.
Fake Stockholm Syndrome––
- Slice of life, Consensual-Dubious-consent, 24/7 D/s dynamic.
Kidnapping, being ravaged, and kept as treasure...at least for awhile. Not so much degradation, but certainly ownership and a bit of a struggle.
Now, obviously, she wouldn't ever wish to have her autonomy actually taken away, but this idea of not having to make decisions, to simply be overtaken by sub-space, and her seemingly endless libido being given an outlet away from internalized shame when with someone that won't allow it to be left unattended in the first place, are all things she cannot stop desiring.
How this comes to be could be her taking an add out online, or perhaps reaching out to someone she trusts, or maybe even hiring a professional Dom to perform this extravagant week long scene, aftercare each night included, and then somehow lead to romance and further kink afterwards.
Cleric's Obligation––
- Fantasy setting, DnD-eque.
Unfortunately, even changing pantheons, will not save this 'holy woman' from the responsibilities of her previous faith's devotion.
Romantic Rooftop––
- Slice of life, neighbors/apartment setting.
Possibilities for deep angst and backstories of tragedy to further entwine them.
Villainous Affections––
- Villain x Hero, possible dub-con or just complicated con
Could be on the lighter side of campy, or the more grim side of dark romance, as long as it's within my limits I would enjoy expanding as we see fit.
Dungeon Dalliance––
- Slice of life, Kink setting.
She plays with someone before vetting, just wanting to lose herself into sub-space. When YC sees her true self in this passionate vulnerability, she can't imagine anyone else getting the privilege.
Either a romance with a kink core begins, or, a lil more dubious.
Writing Sample–
Time of her life.
She was having -the time of her life-.
There in that dim lit venue, flashing pyrotechnics, righteous crowd, and the ear splitting volume of the band, things that would usually overstimulate her houndish floppy ears, filled her with nothing but glee as she looked up into the gaze of her heart's devotion.
Penny Fortunato was dressed in an appropriate rock ensemble. The metal ring attached to the belt that held her poofy tiered skirt clinked against her fishnets covered thigh. The window between her mesh collar and the cotton torso giving a peek into the nice supple line of her cream cleavage. Her shoulders visible from the cut out in the long sleeves. Her slopes of venus hourglass body hugged by the alternative attire.
Her head of long chestnut hair wafted back and forth, the ringlets messy, moving her voluptuous self to the beat of the drums, snowy folded ears with brunette spots flapping from the swivel of her music obsessed heart.
Her perfect fluffy coil of a winter and wood splotched tail waved so far right to left that the curl faintly tapped each side of her grabbable hips.
Penny's bespectacled view stayed focused, not just upon the band, but the main member herself,
~Puma~.
Oh to be so close to the stage, Penny was tempted to stick out her tongue just so she could -maybe- taste her sweat which flew off with each head-bang.
Her verdant irises sparkled while she watched the vocally talented one rock out, the lead of The Feral cats with the lights occasionally highlighting the curve of her biceps or the brunt of those strong shoulders. Hair in the wind and heart in her playing.
The puppy could feel slippery excitement gathering under her skirt.
Eventually, mournfully, the set came to a end, breaking the fantasy, and the buxom concert-goer felt her heart fall into her stomach.
The crowd started to disperse, but as the departing of her idol set off a sort of separation anxiety beneath her blessed chest that was akin to a freshly adopted pet being left alone for the first time, the...less than normal side of her devotion perked to life.
The bouncers were localized towards the main side entrance to the place, but, before coming, Penny had noticed a window left open, that was directly adjacent to the roof of the bar right beside the place...so...Penny went into the bar, blending in with the 'after party' crowd chatting about how great the show was, and she was able to get to the roof, and, as insane as it was, though her mind just translated it to mischievous, Penny -jumped- from roof to window, stumbling through the open pane and falling onto the floor. She gasped, scrambling to a stand, no worse for the wear, fixing her round glasses upon her nose.
Her heart hammered as she looked around the hallway, thankfully, no one there, only the dull sound of fans clamoring to get a look or autograph from their favorite band mate back at the side entrance...while Penny was hoping to get much more.
She snuck her way down, crouching, until, finally, she saw it, a sign on a door that read with rockstar designs laid around it
-Puma-
Another stumble in her heartbeat.
She placed her hand to the doorknob, turned, Ca-ch, unlocked, no voices inside.
She opened the door and slipped inside.
She did it...she was in Puma's dressing room.
Ok...B-Be quick!
Wouldn't want to be -too- much of a bother.
She searched, for a moment, wandering what she was even looking for, before she landed on a pile of discarded clothes on the ground.
Penny fell to her knees, sitting on her heels, and started rooting through the garments.
Her lap pulsed when she found a pair of underwear.
She nearly put it directly against her face, but, that felt too intimate to do outside of home (...in contrast to what else she was already doing, her reasoning, skewered, to say the least) so instead she stuffed the item into her heart shaped purse and kept rooting around until she discovered a shirt, a treasure, the specific shirt Puma wore during the first concert Penny was ever able to go to, something she recognized all to well, the start of her passionate fealty.
She held it up high in front of her like she found the holy grail. Glitter in her malachie owl eyes.
Then, she pulled it close, holding it crumbled in both fists, and, whiiiiiiif, she pressed it up to the bottom half of her face, smelling the musk as the cloth smothered her nose and mouth.
Her tail wagged to the point it created a little breeze and 'swish' sound.
The smell of honeydew dribbling wafted from her pelvic-eden like a cartoonish scent trail for any with a sweet tooth to follow.
She was having -the time of her life-.
There in that dim lit venue, flashing pyrotechnics, righteous crowd, and the ear splitting volume of the band, things that would usually overstimulate her houndish floppy ears, filled her with nothing but glee as she looked up into the gaze of her heart's devotion.
Penny Fortunato was dressed in an appropriate rock ensemble. The metal ring attached to the belt that held her poofy tiered skirt clinked against her fishnets covered thigh. The window between her mesh collar and the cotton torso giving a peek into the nice supple line of her cream cleavage. Her shoulders visible from the cut out in the long sleeves. Her slopes of venus hourglass body hugged by the alternative attire.
Her head of long chestnut hair wafted back and forth, the ringlets messy, moving her voluptuous self to the beat of the drums, snowy folded ears with brunette spots flapping from the swivel of her music obsessed heart.
Her perfect fluffy coil of a winter and wood splotched tail waved so far right to left that the curl faintly tapped each side of her grabbable hips.
Penny's bespectacled view stayed focused, not just upon the band, but the main member herself,
~Puma~.
Oh to be so close to the stage, Penny was tempted to stick out her tongue just so she could -maybe- taste her sweat which flew off with each head-bang.
Her verdant irises sparkled while she watched the vocally talented one rock out, the lead of The Feral cats with the lights occasionally highlighting the curve of her biceps or the brunt of those strong shoulders. Hair in the wind and heart in her playing.
The puppy could feel slippery excitement gathering under her skirt.
Eventually, mournfully, the set came to a end, breaking the fantasy, and the buxom concert-goer felt her heart fall into her stomach.
The crowd started to disperse, but as the departing of her idol set off a sort of separation anxiety beneath her blessed chest that was akin to a freshly adopted pet being left alone for the first time, the...less than normal side of her devotion perked to life.
The bouncers were localized towards the main side entrance to the place, but, before coming, Penny had noticed a window left open, that was directly adjacent to the roof of the bar right beside the place...so...Penny went into the bar, blending in with the 'after party' crowd chatting about how great the show was, and she was able to get to the roof, and, as insane as it was, though her mind just translated it to mischievous, Penny -jumped- from roof to window, stumbling through the open pane and falling onto the floor. She gasped, scrambling to a stand, no worse for the wear, fixing her round glasses upon her nose.
Her heart hammered as she looked around the hallway, thankfully, no one there, only the dull sound of fans clamoring to get a look or autograph from their favorite band mate back at the side entrance...while Penny was hoping to get much more.
She snuck her way down, crouching, until, finally, she saw it, a sign on a door that read with rockstar designs laid around it
-Puma-
Another stumble in her heartbeat.
She placed her hand to the doorknob, turned, Ca-ch, unlocked, no voices inside.
She opened the door and slipped inside.
She did it...she was in Puma's dressing room.
Ok...B-Be quick!
Wouldn't want to be -too- much of a bother.
She searched, for a moment, wandering what she was even looking for, before she landed on a pile of discarded clothes on the ground.
Penny fell to her knees, sitting on her heels, and started rooting through the garments.
Her lap pulsed when she found a pair of underwear.
She nearly put it directly against her face, but, that felt too intimate to do outside of home (...in contrast to what else she was already doing, her reasoning, skewered, to say the least) so instead she stuffed the item into her heart shaped purse and kept rooting around until she discovered a shirt, a treasure, the specific shirt Puma wore during the first concert Penny was ever able to go to, something she recognized all to well, the start of her passionate fealty.
She held it up high in front of her like she found the holy grail. Glitter in her malachie owl eyes.
Then, she pulled it close, holding it crumbled in both fists, and, whiiiiiiif, she pressed it up to the bottom half of her face, smelling the musk as the cloth smothered her nose and mouth.
Her tail wagged to the point it created a little breeze and 'swish' sound.
The smell of honeydew dribbling wafted from her pelvic-eden like a cartoonish scent trail for any with a sweet tooth to follow.
'Pretty shady figures lurking around.'
River's lower lip shook briefly, a breezy laugh being held back by her gums and sheer determination as she couldn't help but notice that it didn't seem like this dark clad woman considered herself of that ilk, her thoughts playfully ribbing, 'My dude, you lack self awareness, that's what you lack.'
Though it was much easier to become serious, her impish inner voice going quiet with guilt as that 'I may as well be' sounded much muuuuch too personal to not have some emotional weight behind it, but well, they were both -here- weren't they?
No one in the place was exactly emotionally 'light'...as much as River pretended to be.
It was a bit ironic, just as River made a point to look up at the stormy woman's face in concern, she seemed to glance away, lost in her own shit, like they all were to some extent.
She had such a solemn expression, that chiseled jaw tight as a freshly screwed latch, black hair against just barely tanned skin...a lovely neck attached to the packed tendons of her shoulders...She wore a sweater but she bet those arms were–
NO, No. Don't start that shit back up. She was here to -not- do that. Fuckin -quit it-.
As if Vi heard her thoughts and wanted to foil them, her laser focused heavy enough her eyes felt like they were literally touching her some how, the breath caressing the outside of her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and she had to actively suppress the fantasy of what Vi might sound like with that rough voice if they were both laying down...but with her...s-still 'behind' River...
On the outside though, River's head tilted to the side curious, genuinely listening, not just because that was her way, but so as to distract herself from the thoughts that constantly wandered due to her...affliction.
She probably should have felt alarmed, or maybe at least a little scared about the punching people thing, especially with the...hostile-adjacent air around her, but, instead, she simply cocked one crimson brow and pondered aloud, "Ah, so I was right about the 'rage room' part eh?"
She took another sip, followed by a squint, and then a petulant tongue-sticking-out, "Blech."
River gave up on the caffeine, tossing the half drank cup into a garbage bin, and her wisdom came out, downy, like goose feathers, no judgment to be found, "I'm sorry to hear that the bottom of bottles and knuckles cracking skulls lost it's charm, but," She tilted her head sharply, like a puppy that heard a curious sound, as she encouraged just like she did in-group, "It is admirable though, ya know, 'getting in touch with feelings' and all that other cringey stuff. I feel like, the people who are the most serious need to, deserve to, loosen up more than anyone else. Don't count yourself out, everybody's journey is gonna look different, have different steps, and not-punching at everyone ya look at -sounds- like one of yours."
Then, before she could drop anymore therapist like advice, out ran the loony (fellowloony, to be fair.)
There was more than just flight or flight...There was also freeze.
And that's what River did.
She froze.
And, not because the man ran at her, nor from his failing, but the fact he raised his voice, and he sounded angry.
Water-jade eyes bore into the ground, the whites watered, her throat felt dry.
Calm down...calm down..You're safe...he wasn't yelling at you...no one's yelling at you...you're safe, you're safe...stop stop stop..
Thankfully, the boxing woman still had her back to the shorter patient, and the sound of her voice made her blink before River's 'mask' could fall off.
"Naw, we just do the classic 'feed em to the sharks' thing, the sea, even worse health care than America, by a little," The hurricane of emotions in her ribs did not have a window through her face, and so the bookish baggy clothed one glanced around, perplexed, echoing, "But, Psych-ward?" She placed her hand over her chin, pretending to have just come to a realization, "Is -that- what this place is?" She shrugged, going riiiiight back into the 'bit', "See, and here I am thinking it's some weird adult kindergarten, but, then again, isn't that the same thing? Ah, you humans, I still have a lot to learn it seems." She chuckled, having successfully side stepped prodding once more, though, her right hand laid over her collar, trying to soothe the irate pulse of her own heart, and as she stepped forward, she swallowed tensely, quietly ashamed, doing everything in her power to -not- imagine the chiseled frame beneath that sable sweater as that endearing protective moment certainly made her....feel things...feel things she was explicitly trying -not- to feel in this fuckin place.
"Uh, thanks, for, the whole, human shield moment...and hey, look at you, another opportunity to punch someone, and you -didn't- take it! Like I said, you're making some good progress there."
River's lower lip shook briefly, a breezy laugh being held back by her gums and sheer determination as she couldn't help but notice that it didn't seem like this dark clad woman considered herself of that ilk, her thoughts playfully ribbing, 'My dude, you lack self awareness, that's what you lack.'
Though it was much easier to become serious, her impish inner voice going quiet with guilt as that 'I may as well be' sounded much muuuuch too personal to not have some emotional weight behind it, but well, they were both -here- weren't they?
No one in the place was exactly emotionally 'light'...as much as River pretended to be.
It was a bit ironic, just as River made a point to look up at the stormy woman's face in concern, she seemed to glance away, lost in her own shit, like they all were to some extent.
She had such a solemn expression, that chiseled jaw tight as a freshly screwed latch, black hair against just barely tanned skin...a lovely neck attached to the packed tendons of her shoulders...She wore a sweater but she bet those arms were–
NO, No. Don't start that shit back up. She was here to -not- do that. Fuckin -quit it-.
As if Vi heard her thoughts and wanted to foil them, her laser focused heavy enough her eyes felt like they were literally touching her some how, the breath caressing the outside of her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and she had to actively suppress the fantasy of what Vi might sound like with that rough voice if they were both laying down...but with her...s-still 'behind' River...
On the outside though, River's head tilted to the side curious, genuinely listening, not just because that was her way, but so as to distract herself from the thoughts that constantly wandered due to her...affliction.
She probably should have felt alarmed, or maybe at least a little scared about the punching people thing, especially with the...hostile-adjacent air around her, but, instead, she simply cocked one crimson brow and pondered aloud, "Ah, so I was right about the 'rage room' part eh?"
She took another sip, followed by a squint, and then a petulant tongue-sticking-out, "Blech."
River gave up on the caffeine, tossing the half drank cup into a garbage bin, and her wisdom came out, downy, like goose feathers, no judgment to be found, "I'm sorry to hear that the bottom of bottles and knuckles cracking skulls lost it's charm, but," She tilted her head sharply, like a puppy that heard a curious sound, as she encouraged just like she did in-group, "It is admirable though, ya know, 'getting in touch with feelings' and all that other cringey stuff. I feel like, the people who are the most serious need to, deserve to, loosen up more than anyone else. Don't count yourself out, everybody's journey is gonna look different, have different steps, and not-punching at everyone ya look at -sounds- like one of yours."
Then, before she could drop anymore therapist like advice, out ran the loony (fellowloony, to be fair.)
There was more than just flight or flight...There was also freeze.
And that's what River did.
She froze.
And, not because the man ran at her, nor from his failing, but the fact he raised his voice, and he sounded angry.
Water-jade eyes bore into the ground, the whites watered, her throat felt dry.
Calm down...calm down..You're safe...he wasn't yelling at you...no one's yelling at you...you're safe, you're safe...stop stop stop..
Thankfully, the boxing woman still had her back to the shorter patient, and the sound of her voice made her blink before River's 'mask' could fall off.
"Naw, we just do the classic 'feed em to the sharks' thing, the sea, even worse health care than America, by a little," The hurricane of emotions in her ribs did not have a window through her face, and so the bookish baggy clothed one glanced around, perplexed, echoing, "But, Psych-ward?" She placed her hand over her chin, pretending to have just come to a realization, "Is -that- what this place is?" She shrugged, going riiiiight back into the 'bit', "See, and here I am thinking it's some weird adult kindergarten, but, then again, isn't that the same thing? Ah, you humans, I still have a lot to learn it seems." She chuckled, having successfully side stepped prodding once more, though, her right hand laid over her collar, trying to soothe the irate pulse of her own heart, and as she stepped forward, she swallowed tensely, quietly ashamed, doing everything in her power to -not- imagine the chiseled frame beneath that sable sweater as that endearing protective moment certainly made her....feel things...feel things she was explicitly trying -not- to feel in this fuckin place.
"Uh, thanks, for, the whole, human shield moment...and hey, look at you, another opportunity to punch someone, and you -didn't- take it! Like I said, you're making some good progress there."
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