ianbabyyy
not made of lies and deceit
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2019
What is up, hello, my name is ian, I use he/it pronouns. I'm 30 years old and have been rping for 18 years now. I typically write a solid 3-6 paragraphs, but I'm also pretty good at matching length. My life can be pretty chaotic, between work and mental health. I can promise at least two responses a week, up to every day, depending on how I'm doing. I write in third person past tense, and would prefer you do as well. My timezone is EST, but my sleep is pretty fucky so I'm usually around at weird times anyways.
My f-list!
So, what I'm looking for. I've lately been obsessed with a specific character of mine, so I'm looking to play her. The plot to smut ration would probably be 70-30, depending on our plot ideas and where we go with our characters. I do not have a specific plot in mind for it, but I do have a setting, and I have her intro, to give you a good idea of the style I'm going for, and give us a jumping off place. For your character, I have some potential ideas we can discuss if you're interested, but the only qualifier I have is that I'd like them to be on the more dominant side, in terms of personality and in bed. My character has a fairly dominant personality, but is sexually inexperienced and heavily leans more submissive (though getting her to accept that will be a challenge.)
Basic setting description:
Humans have figured out space travel, and set about spreading across the universe. The divide between rich and poor sharpened, and crime has become a very lucrative business in this new world. Those born into wealth, or those with very successful criminal careers, are now able to augment their bodies, installing technology to make them stronger, better humans.
Some trope ideas:
Enemies to lovers, slowburn, trauma, angst, "I should kill you." "Do it then.", the inherit intimacy of pointing guns at each other, power impalance, age gap
Intro:
My f-list!
So, what I'm looking for. I've lately been obsessed with a specific character of mine, so I'm looking to play her. The plot to smut ration would probably be 70-30, depending on our plot ideas and where we go with our characters. I do not have a specific plot in mind for it, but I do have a setting, and I have her intro, to give you a good idea of the style I'm going for, and give us a jumping off place. For your character, I have some potential ideas we can discuss if you're interested, but the only qualifier I have is that I'd like them to be on the more dominant side, in terms of personality and in bed. My character has a fairly dominant personality, but is sexually inexperienced and heavily leans more submissive (though getting her to accept that will be a challenge.)
Basic setting description:
Humans have figured out space travel, and set about spreading across the universe. The divide between rich and poor sharpened, and crime has become a very lucrative business in this new world. Those born into wealth, or those with very successful criminal careers, are now able to augment their bodies, installing technology to make them stronger, better humans.
Some trope ideas:
Enemies to lovers, slowburn, trauma, angst, "I should kill you." "Do it then.", the inherit intimacy of pointing guns at each other, power impalance, age gap
Intro:
There was a searing pain in her back as she crashed into the hard metal table. The pain was of little concern to her, but the fact that it lingered pressed against her mind. It was shaken off, a problem for a later time. She flipped over the table, landing on the balls of her feet and palming one of the knives kept tucked against her thigh. Information scrolled across the top of her vision, diagnostics of the damage she’d taken, but she forced that away as well. Across the room, two burly men stood with weapons drawn, poised to attack. The third man, the one who’d thrown her, was already barreling across the room in her direction.
It would have been easier to shoot her. They were clearly well trained, and while she was quick on her feet, there wasn’t much she could do to dodge a bullet at nearly point blank range, let alone three. They wouldn’t though. For the same reason that she’d come in with blades, they wouldn’t fire a gun here unless absolutely necessary. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where one could shoot a gun and not draw very unwanted attention.
Their reluctance to shoot only benefited her, as did the way they obviously underestimated her. As the third man crossed around the table, lunging at her, she ducked and slid smoothly to the side, tangling her leg in his and toppling him to the floor. She went down with him, out of view of the other men, but able to see their lower bodies through the legs of the table. The knife in her palm flew with an easy, practiced motion, finding its target in one of the men’s thigh. She didn’t wait to see if it hit, certain of herself, another blade appearing in her hand.
The man she’d tripped regained his composure, grabbing her roughly and trying to wrap his hand around her throat. To pin her or to steal her air, she didn’t know and didn’t care. For a moment, she let him think he’d gotten the upper hand, wrestling around on the floor so that he didn’t notice the knife until it was sliding neatly into his side, just beneath his body armor. He cried out in pain, and she used his distraction to roll away from him.
A sudden sharp, splintering pain tore through her knee as a bullet found a weak point in her armor. She’d barely heard the sound of the gun going off, but she knew that *somebody* would. She gritted her teeth against the pain and the aggravation, ignoring the flashing red words scrolling across the top of her vision. There was no more time, this fight needed to end now. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to get arrested today, or more likely, to have to kill some cops. To be honest, she’d hoped to get out of this mess without killing these guards. Her target was dead, and she didn’t typically like collateral damage. But time was up, and she needed to leave.
Two more blades found their way into her hands as she rolled out from behind the table, and each found the throat of a guard. As they toppled, a third knife split the throat of the last guard still groaning on the floor. She took only a moment to gather up her knives, each disappearing into their usual places on her body, to be cleaned later. A quick glance around the room to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind, and she was out the door. It took only a minute or two to find her way back through the underground complex, up the stairs to the main floor, before slipping out a back window just as she heard sirens pull up to the front of the unassuming house.
It wasn’t until she was safely out of the nice, almost suburban neighborhood and back in her shuttle that she stopped to actually focus on the warning signs that had been flashing along the edges of her vision. She frowned at them, taking stock of her injuries as she pulled off her mask and hood, revealing acid blue eyes, pale skin, and violently red hair braided tight against her head. Her knee was a throbbing mass of pain now that her adrenaline was lowering, and she hissed with aggravation. The rarely used medkit was pulled out, a pair of forceps retrieved from it. She gritted her teeth as she propped up her leg and felt around in the wound for the bullet. It had lodged itself in the joint, tearing through nerves and muscles, and if not for her rigorous training, she was sure it would have taken her out of the fight. The bullet was found, and she twisted her head to bite down on her arm as she used the forceps to yank it out.
The bullet was dropped onto the floor, immediately forgotten as she wrapped gauze around the bleeding wound and taped it down. A steady stream of swears escaped her as she slammed her hand down on the control panel of her shuttle, setting the auto pilot to take her into the city. Taking slow breaths, she forced herself to calm, to make her heart rate settle so that she could focus, to figure out why her knee wasn’t healing. As she did, the throbbing pain in her back resurfaced, and she ran diagnostics to find the problem. Another long stream of swears as it told her a section of cybernetics along her spine had been damaged. Specifically the ones that controlled the nano tech meant to heal her body.
It had to be that. It couldn’t have been anything else. She just didn’t have that kind of luck. The access port to get to those cybernetics was exactly where she’d been hit, on her spine, directly between her shoulder blades. The one spot on her body she couldn’t fix herself. Gritting her teeth again, she resigned herself to finding someone who could repair her cybernetics. Hopefully someone who could do it quietly, as she wasn’t particularly keen on the extent of her upgrades getting out to others.
It didn’t take long for her to get into the city, feeling herself settle slightly as the tall buildings closed in around her shuttle. She took control of the shuttle, steering away from the bright, glowing lights of the upper city and finding her way into the underbelly. The place where people like her could operate in relative anonymity. Nobody here asked questions, nobody cared who you were, and just about any service could be acquired for the right amount of credits. As she settled her shuttle into the usual port, she sighed and leaned back against her chair for a moment.
The moment she closed her eyes, the warning signs flashed across the darkness, and she growled. “Okay, I fucking get it,” she snapped, forcing away the glowing symbols. “I’ll fucking handle it.” With a groan of pain, she forced herself back up to her feet, putting the black mask back over the bottom half of her face but leaving off the hood. The first step almost made her knee buckle, keeping herself up through sheer force of will. Taking a deep breath, she tried another step, wincing but keeping herself up this time. She practiced taking a couple more steps until she could walk without a noticeable limp. This wasn’t the place to show weakness.
Reasonably certain she’d be able to get around, she stepped out of her shuttle and set the alarm. Leaving the port building, she paused a moment to take in the cool night air, sharp with the smell of the city, but feeling as close to home as she’d ever experienced. A twinge in her knee and she winced again. No time to be emotional. She needed this fixed, and now.
It would have been easier to shoot her. They were clearly well trained, and while she was quick on her feet, there wasn’t much she could do to dodge a bullet at nearly point blank range, let alone three. They wouldn’t though. For the same reason that she’d come in with blades, they wouldn’t fire a gun here unless absolutely necessary. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where one could shoot a gun and not draw very unwanted attention.
Their reluctance to shoot only benefited her, as did the way they obviously underestimated her. As the third man crossed around the table, lunging at her, she ducked and slid smoothly to the side, tangling her leg in his and toppling him to the floor. She went down with him, out of view of the other men, but able to see their lower bodies through the legs of the table. The knife in her palm flew with an easy, practiced motion, finding its target in one of the men’s thigh. She didn’t wait to see if it hit, certain of herself, another blade appearing in her hand.
The man she’d tripped regained his composure, grabbing her roughly and trying to wrap his hand around her throat. To pin her or to steal her air, she didn’t know and didn’t care. For a moment, she let him think he’d gotten the upper hand, wrestling around on the floor so that he didn’t notice the knife until it was sliding neatly into his side, just beneath his body armor. He cried out in pain, and she used his distraction to roll away from him.
A sudden sharp, splintering pain tore through her knee as a bullet found a weak point in her armor. She’d barely heard the sound of the gun going off, but she knew that *somebody* would. She gritted her teeth against the pain and the aggravation, ignoring the flashing red words scrolling across the top of her vision. There was no more time, this fight needed to end now. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to get arrested today, or more likely, to have to kill some cops. To be honest, she’d hoped to get out of this mess without killing these guards. Her target was dead, and she didn’t typically like collateral damage. But time was up, and she needed to leave.
Two more blades found their way into her hands as she rolled out from behind the table, and each found the throat of a guard. As they toppled, a third knife split the throat of the last guard still groaning on the floor. She took only a moment to gather up her knives, each disappearing into their usual places on her body, to be cleaned later. A quick glance around the room to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind, and she was out the door. It took only a minute or two to find her way back through the underground complex, up the stairs to the main floor, before slipping out a back window just as she heard sirens pull up to the front of the unassuming house.
It wasn’t until she was safely out of the nice, almost suburban neighborhood and back in her shuttle that she stopped to actually focus on the warning signs that had been flashing along the edges of her vision. She frowned at them, taking stock of her injuries as she pulled off her mask and hood, revealing acid blue eyes, pale skin, and violently red hair braided tight against her head. Her knee was a throbbing mass of pain now that her adrenaline was lowering, and she hissed with aggravation. The rarely used medkit was pulled out, a pair of forceps retrieved from it. She gritted her teeth as she propped up her leg and felt around in the wound for the bullet. It had lodged itself in the joint, tearing through nerves and muscles, and if not for her rigorous training, she was sure it would have taken her out of the fight. The bullet was found, and she twisted her head to bite down on her arm as she used the forceps to yank it out.
The bullet was dropped onto the floor, immediately forgotten as she wrapped gauze around the bleeding wound and taped it down. A steady stream of swears escaped her as she slammed her hand down on the control panel of her shuttle, setting the auto pilot to take her into the city. Taking slow breaths, she forced herself to calm, to make her heart rate settle so that she could focus, to figure out why her knee wasn’t healing. As she did, the throbbing pain in her back resurfaced, and she ran diagnostics to find the problem. Another long stream of swears as it told her a section of cybernetics along her spine had been damaged. Specifically the ones that controlled the nano tech meant to heal her body.
It had to be that. It couldn’t have been anything else. She just didn’t have that kind of luck. The access port to get to those cybernetics was exactly where she’d been hit, on her spine, directly between her shoulder blades. The one spot on her body she couldn’t fix herself. Gritting her teeth again, she resigned herself to finding someone who could repair her cybernetics. Hopefully someone who could do it quietly, as she wasn’t particularly keen on the extent of her upgrades getting out to others.
It didn’t take long for her to get into the city, feeling herself settle slightly as the tall buildings closed in around her shuttle. She took control of the shuttle, steering away from the bright, glowing lights of the upper city and finding her way into the underbelly. The place where people like her could operate in relative anonymity. Nobody here asked questions, nobody cared who you were, and just about any service could be acquired for the right amount of credits. As she settled her shuttle into the usual port, she sighed and leaned back against her chair for a moment.
The moment she closed her eyes, the warning signs flashed across the darkness, and she growled. “Okay, I fucking get it,” she snapped, forcing away the glowing symbols. “I’ll fucking handle it.” With a groan of pain, she forced herself back up to her feet, putting the black mask back over the bottom half of her face but leaving off the hood. The first step almost made her knee buckle, keeping herself up through sheer force of will. Taking a deep breath, she tried another step, wincing but keeping herself up this time. She practiced taking a couple more steps until she could walk without a noticeable limp. This wasn’t the place to show weakness.
Reasonably certain she’d be able to get around, she stepped out of her shuttle and set the alarm. Leaving the port building, she paused a moment to take in the cool night air, sharp with the smell of the city, but feeling as close to home as she’d ever experienced. A twinge in her knee and she winced again. No time to be emotional. She needed this fixed, and now.