A 1x1 femslash search! Now with a sample!

[rockyspine]

Here goes nothing!

Hi! I'm rockyspine, and I've been lurking in this forum, biding my time until a proper roleplayer moseyed in with a search thread of their own, but it seems like good femmeslash roleplayers are a rare breed on sites like these - so I thought I'd stop being the anti-social little hermit that I am and peek my head out, announce my presence to you all. I girl-scout-promise and pinky-swear that I am a good writer, or at the very least a good roleplayer, which might not be exactly the same thing, but I'll try very hard to impress you because I am an overachiever, and I'm hoping you'll like me a tiny bit, or at the very least find me a little bit charming. On the subject of my writing style: I usually try to keep most of my posts under a thousand words, but sometimes I just can't help myself. If you were to describe my posting pace in terms of tortoises and hares, well - slow and steady wins the race. I'll roleplay with you virtually anywhere, maybe even a messenger, as long as you don't expect a rapid-fire ping-ping-ping back-and-forth response. I have virtually no limits because I am corrupt beyond salvation, but it's okay if you've got a few you'd like me to respect. A few of my favorite things include: distinctive settings, multiple characters that are psychologically and intellectually and emotionally intriguing, potential partners who contact me with ideas of their own, OOC chat in abundance, infinite patience, and roleplayers who are smart and creative. If you fulfill those criteria, and the plots below strike your fancy, you should definitely contact me!

You can PM me, or email me at [e-mail], and I'm sure I'll fall all sorts of love with you and your pretty little head.

I like:
• MAGICIANS. Come on. The cheesy kind, that do card tricks and scarf tricks and escape tricks. Rival magicians are cool, but so is a civilian falling in love with a magician, with someone who will always have an aura of mystery to them, who will always have their secrets no matter how well you get to know them. Ask me about it.
• Storm chasers, oh please! I have a freelance photographer adrenaline junkie that I'd really like to toss in with a bunch of meteorologists, maybe, let's plot!
• A court room sketch artist who gets tangled up in a crime!
• Coming of age stories and teenage exploration and small midwestern towns
• Growing up in a funeral home - a story about a girl whose parents own a funeral home, and one whose parent/sibling dies, in a car crash, blind-sided by a truck, maybe, because I was in the car the other day and saw an eighteen wheeler that had the words "Flower Transport" printed across it, and instantly had this image of it tipped over on its side, leaking its contents, but instead of something noxious and dangerous, roses and violets and daisies and sunflowers and orchids spill out across the highway, among bits of crushed, warped metal and blood, and bone.
• Outlaws! Does anyone remember Kissin' Kate Barlow from Holes?
• Badass atheist catholic schoolgirls who are the bane of the nuns' existence
• Following your girlfriend to another country and having a mental breakdown in the process
• A street artist enlisting her muse as an accomplice on late-night rooftops, pasting murals on and making out against brick walls and sprinting until their lungs ache when the cops round the corner
• Women who prove themselves in environments blatantly inhospitable to them
• Adventurous animal conservationists counting jaguars in Belize
• Clones (Inspired in particular by a NPR segment about a dentist who paid an exorbitant amount of money for John Lennon's rotted tooth in hopes of using it to make a clone of him, so a story about a clone of a famous person and her maker, and nature vs. nurture, and failing to live up to the celebrity's precedent, just ask about it!)
• Howl's Moving Castle-esque: a medieval, whimsical alternate dimension that coexists alongside our own, modern world, and what happens when a portal between the two is discovered
• Something slenderman inspired because I am a big baby and there is nothing more terrifying me than a faceless man in a well-tailored suit lurking behind tree trunks and peeking through the blinds PLEASE let's discuss it
• Roller derby girls! Yes yes yes!
• Something involving an art preservationist touching up old Renaissance paintings in a famous museum, and art thieves, maybe, or paintings that come to life, or a mystery that's solved with clues hidden in the paintings of a famous artist, or something - let's talk about it!
• And space
• And revolutions!
• And lady knights! Think Game of Thrones.
• An across-the-globe sailing trip, maybe! A crew of people who seek to beat the record for the fastest sailing trip across the world, maybe with some Odyssey themes, definitely with lots of action and adventure.
• 19th century graverobbers! Male doctors themselves had to dig up their cadavers from the ground, imagine the lengths to which women have to go in the name of science.
• Ummm ummm don't think these are all I'll do
• Because it definitely is not
• And I want to hear your ideas
• Because you are smart and creative
• So you should just contact me

EDIT: You know that one tumblr post that's popular right now about how mermaids are only people who have died in the sea? Let's do that.

[rockyspine]

Look, guys, here's a sample!
An intro. I make no claims of historical accuracy.

Quote:

Her daddy died in this desert.

William Parker abandoned the name Wild Bill when her mama said she wouldn’t marry a man whose face and name were nailed into every post in town, but every now and then he just got an itch. Something in him was dark, there was no escaping it. He could keep it locked up in a cell somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but sometimes the darkness oozed between the bars and settled right on his skin like a case of pox. Only going out with Jim Thompson and his gang could quell it.

Her daddy’s last bank robbery went sour and the gang hightailed it out of town, the sheriff and his men not far behind. Three of their seven men went down in the volley of bullets that whizzed past and into the desert beyond, but it wasn’t the swarm of rangers that did him in. William Parker emerged from the dust clouds rattled, but unscathed, thanks to the grace of God, and he swore he’d never associate with the notorious Jim Thompson again. They escaped and made camp in the desert, and that’s when her daddy died while taking a piss.

It wasn’t the rattlesnake that killed him. It was the devil in him, her ma swore it. The Lord doomed the devil to live the rest of his days slithering on his stomach in the red dirt, she said, so when that rattler lashed out quicker than a bowie knife, It was no accident; it was a sign from God. Bill Parker was no victim of circumstance; he was a victim of his own wickedness. He had toyed with the devil, and the devil bit back.

There was a devil somewhere in Grace Parker, too, and there was no ridding it.

She and her horse cut through the dirt like a sidewinder. The sun fell heavy on the dust, the prickly pear, the horned lizards that scattered at the sound of galloping hooves.

The papers had called them the Quaker Gang, because someone, somewhere, heard from someone, somewhere, that the notorious outlaw Jim Thompson had roots that clung to the Pennsylvania dirt. Some swore that the sharp-shootin’, bank-robbin’ son of a gun first rode down to West Texas as a Quaker missionary, armed only with the light of God. Like a vaudevillian sideshow he traveled from town to town in a wagon with the words “There is one, even, Christ Jesus, who can speak to thy condition” carved into the wood, preaching in saloons over the pummeled piano keys and the men who hissed at him like rattlesnakes. That’s when they say Jim Thompson changed. No one was sure why - he met a woman, some said. A band of outlaws ransacked his wagon, said others. More still insisted that it was Texas that did it. The gold, and the blood, and the whiskey of the west led all men astray from their shepherd, so even the most devout eventually found their faith trampled in the dust.

Of course, Grace Parker had known Jim Thompson her entire life, and not once did she suspect him of havin’ any faith to trample. And now, just shy of a year after she rode away from her mama, the papers were calling them Lady Grace and her Quaker Gang, and, why, that just didn’t have the same ring to it, Jim said. “So why don’t you go on home to your ma, little girl,” he said in a slow Texan drawl, divvying up cash after a heist to his men. “Put on a clean dress. Find a good man.”

He stiffed her on her share of the loot and gave her just enough to find a way home.

The next morning, while he still slept off the cactus wine in the saloon owner’s daughter’s room, she stole his horse and his money and galloped out of town. Now, as she rode through the desert on his painted quarter-horse, Lady Grace Parker knew she’d stolen from the meanest gang in West Texas. She imagined she might pay for it, someday, but that day wasn’t going to be today. In all likelihood Jim Thompson was just now wakin’ up, maybe down in the saloon for breakfast and warm beer, but it wouldn’t be until he reached down in his pockets, or looked out the window for the blanket of white stretched across his horse’s back, that he realized someone did a bang-up job of chiseling him. The double-crossin’ Lady Grace Parker would be halfway to Helena by the time he did that.

All she could see for miles was brittle brush and cacti, and the peaks of the Guadalupe Mountains that jutted into the blue sky like fenceposts. Then there was a clump of something so covered in dust Grace might've mistaken it for a boulder, if she hadn't pulled back on the reins and slowed her paint. Still seated on the horse, she circled it a couple of times: a body near ripe enough for the buzzards, deathly still. Not even a small breeze ruffled the hem of the woman's dress or the curls in her hair. She hopped down from the saddle.

"I think she's dead, Poncho," she told the horse.

She'd seen dead bodies before, slumped over like limp dolls and studded with bullets, but most of them had been men, and most of them had deserved it. Maybe the lady that lay in the dirt deserved the punishment, her own piece of divine retribution handed down from God himself, but something told Grace she hadn’t. The red marks leftover from where she’d been hogtied, maybe, or the blue and purple patch of skin that swelled on her temple. Grace’s dark eyes narrowed in search of any sign of life. Then she nudged the body with her boot, gently.

“What’s a lady doing out here all by herself, anyhow?” she asked the horse, the body, the mountains that towered tall as God over the desert in the distance - and realized her daddy’s ghost might have damn well asked her the same question.

Look, here's another.
A regular post.

Quote:

The earth takes care of its dead, even when the rest of us forget.

In due time, after the buzzards tore away at her desiccated flesh and the sun bleached her bones, the desert's dust would blow across her remains and settle there, like a rust-colored quilt, like a mother tucking her child into bed for one long, last sleep. From dust we came, the Bible said, and when we return to it, the dust surges forth to meet us in a long overdue embrace.

womp womp this one's in progress

[SBMWaugh]

rockyspine

I was thinking that we could do something that revolves around two woman who want to be knights but their kingdom doesn't knight woman. So they become mercenaries instead hoping that if they build enough report with the people that they will have to be recognized officially. Does this sound like something that might interest you?

[rockyspine]

Maybe! PM with details? I'm definitely interested in women appointing themselves knights in an environment that's blatantly inhospitable to them, at least.

[rockyspine]

I just spent the last five minutes trying to think of something interesting to say as a bump and found myself thoroughly unsuccessful.

[rockyspine]

But don't take that as a sign of my startling lack of genius!

[rockyspine]

I have plenty of genius! I promise!

[feline cultist]

rockyspine

You seem like a very delightful person, and a great potential role play partner! ;u;
Unfortunately I'm not sure I'd be a good match for you, but I sincerely hope that you find someone excellent!

[rockyspine]

Thanks! Take note, Gaia: drive-by compliments are always appreciated and/or encouraged.

[rockyspine]

But, you know, actual messages are great, too.

[multilateral]

emotion_jawdrop .....



emotion_dowant

[rockyspine]

Well, that's an overwhelmingly positive reaction.

[rockyspine]

I can't say I get jaw drops every day, you know.

[rockyspine]

Okay, it's 3:42 and far past when I should've checked out for the night, Gaia.