Phi
oh baby baby it’s a wild world
hey there. i’m writing lowercase because i am under the impression that it’s what the cool kids do.
i’m phi (they/she), north of 30 but just barely, living in the part of europe where it rains all the time. i have a (new) full-time job in research/academia, which is relatively writing-intensive, so i have a bit of skill. i’ve also been rping since the days of “pick a dragon egg” on neopets forum (which, honestly, were the golden days of rp for me.)
because of my work, i’m only really available after 5pm central europe time, which may mean a reply every day or couple days unless you’re on the same time zone. i’m always happy for you to give me a nudge though, and ooc chat and friendships are something i value a lot too.
my style is advanced lit/novella. i can also write shorter replies if you feel like that’s punchier or less intimidating, but style will always matter to me. so will emotionality, depth, unpredictability, and character development. my characters sometimes have heavy backstories, or carry the weight of some of the same things i do in my own personal life, so please just let me know your triggers.
i’m queer and if you’re not totally okay with that in all its facets, then it’s just not gonna work with us, so save us both the time. i usually play women or enbies, though we can talk if you want to do something else, maybe i’ll play a guy for you if i’m feeling it. i also am poly friendly, i’m happy to do anything platonic, and i love to double. if you have any plots where you’re the gm of some world or plotline, that also sounds fun. letting dice decide some decisions also could be cool.
okay, so on to plots, but feel free to suggest me anything, especially weird stuff i don’t see often or have never thought about before! i don’t like a lot of action/violence, anything where i need to have beyond the most rudimentary understanding of world history, smut or vanilla slice-of-life stuff.
dystopia:
culture clash: Muse A has grown up in a culture that is very tied to nature, the seasons, and the ebb and flow of Mother Earth. They’ve never known technology, capitalism, or the 9-to-5. Muse B lives in a mega city with a huge wall around it, where progress, technology, and 24/7 productivity are the norm. However, when Muse B is found slacking off at work, they meet the worst fate: banishment from the city. Thrown outside the city walls, hungry and hurt, they meet Muse A. Will they continue to try to get back into the city and the only life they’ve ever known, or will Muse A show them another way?
clones: Set in a dystopian cityscape, with neon flashing lights all night and day, Muse A works in a scientific facility working on developing (what they believe to be simply) human replacement organs. One day, they’re given a promotion and realize the truth, that the facility is a small-scale experimental cloning business. Muse B is either one clone of many, living in a bunker-like dorm, and Muse A decides to steal them away and show them the world and a better life, or Muse B is the caretaker of baby clones, and together with Muse A they decide to take a baby and escape the compound in search of a better life (together?).
game of life: Muse A has a soul-sucking job and not much else to show for life. That is, until they discover a new, fully immersive VR reality. They meet Muse B in the game and soon get fully absorbed in the game, totally neglecting their real life, bills, and even physical health. But is Muse B just a fictional persona derived from lines of code? And what happens when a concerned family member pulls the plug, resetting the game and Muse B’s memory? Can Muse A ever find a way to simply exist in the game world and leave their troubles behind?
after the end of the world: The setting is the Pacific Northwest (think Last of Us meets Fallout), generations after the world “ended” in a capitalist implosion. Small settlements have popped up and the rubble of old cities is being re-consumed by nature. My character is on a quest to find her baby sister, who she believes has been taken to the capital city, the only place that is still somewhat modern, for use in some nefarious plot. She’s already well on her journey, but exhausted, hungry and depleted. Then she meets your character by chance, who is headed to the capital for their own reasons (money? knowledge? revenge? mercenary work?). The two become unlikely traveling companions and learn about each other on the way.
light fantasy:
earthbound/skyborne: Muse A works in a farming community, spending the days tilling the soil and eating what their own hands have grown. One day, on a trip to get supplies from a nearby village, they get lost in thought on a clifftop, and see something they never expected. Muse B is part of a humanoid race that has huge, birdlike wings, and lives in the treetops unbeknownst to the earthbound humans. Muse A suddenly realized they have dreams bigger than their life, and asks Muse B to accompany them on a trip to see the furthest corners of the earth.
sirens/mermaids: It’s the early industrial period in costal Norway, where small villages largely still make their living through fishing and crabbing. Muse A has lived this way their whole life, though they’ve always dreamed of more. One day, while drawing in their sketchbook, they see the most incredible sight: a mermaid, or is it a siren (Muse B)? Will word of the creature spread to the village, causing panic or awe?
sci-fi:
if you’ve read A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet (and/or any or all of the Wayfarer series), i’d love to do something inspired by that universe. it could be a small, rural planet and a spacer stopping by, or two travelers meeting on Port Coriol. OC’s only though.
throwback:
okay, maybe i’ll regret this, but I’m feeling nostalgic for the days of “boarding school for gifted teens” and “let’s double as each others dragons/daemons and go on an adventure”. if you feel the same, let’s talk.
sample (this is also my charry for 'after the end of the world'):
It hadn’t always been this way. There were moments dancing on the edge of her memory in which there had been a warm place to sleep, familiar voices in the next room over, people who knew her entire history, had watched her grow up. Once, she had belonged somewhere. There was one single place to call home, a mentor that would guide her in her craft, there was conversation over a warm bowl of stew. There was a tiny, warm body, a weight that she could carry around on her hip, a little being that loved her unconditionally.
Nowadays, she had little time to reflect on those memories, as her needs were much more pressing. Like now, digging around in the waste pile outside of a bar, looking for something that might be salvageable, whether it be raw materials, a large piece of wood from discarded furniture, or something that still looked safe to eat. Over the past several months (or was it years?), Nell had lost a lot of weight, her dark leather jacket and scuffed but sturdy workpants hanging loosely over her shrinking frame. Dark circles under her dull blue eyes revealed that she had started to become rather sickly, seemingly picking up every illness she came across and feeling unwell on the rare occasions she had a thick and greasy meal.
How she looked, or felt for that matter, had become merely a side concern for Nelson, who had been spurred on by adrenaline in what seemed to be a useless search for months now. In her quietest moments, she knew that the search she was on was not only a waste of time but also likely to lead to a quiet, unknown demise on a cold winter night, and maybe that’s exactly why someone had gone through the trouble of tracking her down to deliver the news to her in the first place. Maybe Ailynn was in no danger at all, but Nell knew that she had to try, no matter the cost. There was no alternative.
Finding a slightly stale but otherwise perfectly good roll, Nell let the weight of her body and her oversized canvas pack rest against the cold stone wall on the back side of the bar, slipping carefully down to a seat while avoiding the intricately carved wooden longbow that was tied haphazardly to the side of the pack with a length of orange bungee cord. It wasn’t until she took the break that she realized that her fingers were trembling. Slowly, she ate, running her spare hand through her light blonde hair, now several inches long after she had unceremoniously chopped it off several months ago, tired of the appraising stares of men everywhere she went. Now, when people stared, their eyes were more full of pity, but she could handle that a bit better. And honestly, she liked the look, the row of metal rings through her eyebrow and upper ears, the cropped off hair, and the desperation in her eyes that had faded to more of a “try me, I dare you”.
Nell was only halfway through the bread roll, which was starting to settle heavily into her stomach, when there was a commotion inside and she sprung to her feet, tucking the rest of the bread into the pocket of her jacket. She didn’t need trouble and wasn’t sure why it always seemed to find her. And it really wasn’t a good time for it, as the lightheadness of the hunger mixed with the heavy, dry crumbs settling in her stomach made her vision blur, and she steadied herself shakily against the wall.
Through the heaving swirl of her vision, she saw the source of the commotion, or perhaps its outcome, as two barmaids came cursing from the bar, dragging a heavy, limp weight behind them towards the trash pile. When Nell saw their load, what used to be a man with a thick, ungodly gash through the top of his skull, she promptly heaved violently once, twice, before the world went black.
When she awoke again, she was propped up in a corner booth inside of a warm establishment, and one of the barmaids was pressing a cold cloth to her forehead, muttering in annoyance under her breath. Flinching away from the unfamiliar touch, Nell's hands flailed nervously until she found the familiar cloth of her pack beside her on the bench and visibly relaxed. Half-chewed and soggy bread bits were spattered down the front of her top but she didn't yet wipe them away, blinking first into the din of the musty, iron-scented air of the bar.
Once, life had been easy, warm, and familiar. Now, Nell ran on adrenaline, and stopping too long, thinking too hard, would zap the last bit of strength from her. And that she couldn’t risk. Not now.
i’m phi (they/she), north of 30 but just barely, living in the part of europe where it rains all the time. i have a (new) full-time job in research/academia, which is relatively writing-intensive, so i have a bit of skill. i’ve also been rping since the days of “pick a dragon egg” on neopets forum (which, honestly, were the golden days of rp for me.)
because of my work, i’m only really available after 5pm central europe time, which may mean a reply every day or couple days unless you’re on the same time zone. i’m always happy for you to give me a nudge though, and ooc chat and friendships are something i value a lot too.
my style is advanced lit/novella. i can also write shorter replies if you feel like that’s punchier or less intimidating, but style will always matter to me. so will emotionality, depth, unpredictability, and character development. my characters sometimes have heavy backstories, or carry the weight of some of the same things i do in my own personal life, so please just let me know your triggers.
i’m queer and if you’re not totally okay with that in all its facets, then it’s just not gonna work with us, so save us both the time. i usually play women or enbies, though we can talk if you want to do something else, maybe i’ll play a guy for you if i’m feeling it. i also am poly friendly, i’m happy to do anything platonic, and i love to double. if you have any plots where you’re the gm of some world or plotline, that also sounds fun. letting dice decide some decisions also could be cool.
okay, so on to plots, but feel free to suggest me anything, especially weird stuff i don’t see often or have never thought about before! i don’t like a lot of action/violence, anything where i need to have beyond the most rudimentary understanding of world history, smut or vanilla slice-of-life stuff.
dystopia:
culture clash: Muse A has grown up in a culture that is very tied to nature, the seasons, and the ebb and flow of Mother Earth. They’ve never known technology, capitalism, or the 9-to-5. Muse B lives in a mega city with a huge wall around it, where progress, technology, and 24/7 productivity are the norm. However, when Muse B is found slacking off at work, they meet the worst fate: banishment from the city. Thrown outside the city walls, hungry and hurt, they meet Muse A. Will they continue to try to get back into the city and the only life they’ve ever known, or will Muse A show them another way?
clones: Set in a dystopian cityscape, with neon flashing lights all night and day, Muse A works in a scientific facility working on developing (what they believe to be simply) human replacement organs. One day, they’re given a promotion and realize the truth, that the facility is a small-scale experimental cloning business. Muse B is either one clone of many, living in a bunker-like dorm, and Muse A decides to steal them away and show them the world and a better life, or Muse B is the caretaker of baby clones, and together with Muse A they decide to take a baby and escape the compound in search of a better life (together?).
game of life: Muse A has a soul-sucking job and not much else to show for life. That is, until they discover a new, fully immersive VR reality. They meet Muse B in the game and soon get fully absorbed in the game, totally neglecting their real life, bills, and even physical health. But is Muse B just a fictional persona derived from lines of code? And what happens when a concerned family member pulls the plug, resetting the game and Muse B’s memory? Can Muse A ever find a way to simply exist in the game world and leave their troubles behind?
after the end of the world: The setting is the Pacific Northwest (think Last of Us meets Fallout), generations after the world “ended” in a capitalist implosion. Small settlements have popped up and the rubble of old cities is being re-consumed by nature. My character is on a quest to find her baby sister, who she believes has been taken to the capital city, the only place that is still somewhat modern, for use in some nefarious plot. She’s already well on her journey, but exhausted, hungry and depleted. Then she meets your character by chance, who is headed to the capital for their own reasons (money? knowledge? revenge? mercenary work?). The two become unlikely traveling companions and learn about each other on the way.
light fantasy:
earthbound/skyborne: Muse A works in a farming community, spending the days tilling the soil and eating what their own hands have grown. One day, on a trip to get supplies from a nearby village, they get lost in thought on a clifftop, and see something they never expected. Muse B is part of a humanoid race that has huge, birdlike wings, and lives in the treetops unbeknownst to the earthbound humans. Muse A suddenly realized they have dreams bigger than their life, and asks Muse B to accompany them on a trip to see the furthest corners of the earth.
sirens/mermaids: It’s the early industrial period in costal Norway, where small villages largely still make their living through fishing and crabbing. Muse A has lived this way their whole life, though they’ve always dreamed of more. One day, while drawing in their sketchbook, they see the most incredible sight: a mermaid, or is it a siren (Muse B)? Will word of the creature spread to the village, causing panic or awe?
sci-fi:
if you’ve read A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet (and/or any or all of the Wayfarer series), i’d love to do something inspired by that universe. it could be a small, rural planet and a spacer stopping by, or two travelers meeting on Port Coriol. OC’s only though.
throwback:
okay, maybe i’ll regret this, but I’m feeling nostalgic for the days of “boarding school for gifted teens” and “let’s double as each others dragons/daemons and go on an adventure”. if you feel the same, let’s talk.
sample (this is also my charry for 'after the end of the world'):
It hadn’t always been this way. There were moments dancing on the edge of her memory in which there had been a warm place to sleep, familiar voices in the next room over, people who knew her entire history, had watched her grow up. Once, she had belonged somewhere. There was one single place to call home, a mentor that would guide her in her craft, there was conversation over a warm bowl of stew. There was a tiny, warm body, a weight that she could carry around on her hip, a little being that loved her unconditionally.
Nowadays, she had little time to reflect on those memories, as her needs were much more pressing. Like now, digging around in the waste pile outside of a bar, looking for something that might be salvageable, whether it be raw materials, a large piece of wood from discarded furniture, or something that still looked safe to eat. Over the past several months (or was it years?), Nell had lost a lot of weight, her dark leather jacket and scuffed but sturdy workpants hanging loosely over her shrinking frame. Dark circles under her dull blue eyes revealed that she had started to become rather sickly, seemingly picking up every illness she came across and feeling unwell on the rare occasions she had a thick and greasy meal.
How she looked, or felt for that matter, had become merely a side concern for Nelson, who had been spurred on by adrenaline in what seemed to be a useless search for months now. In her quietest moments, she knew that the search she was on was not only a waste of time but also likely to lead to a quiet, unknown demise on a cold winter night, and maybe that’s exactly why someone had gone through the trouble of tracking her down to deliver the news to her in the first place. Maybe Ailynn was in no danger at all, but Nell knew that she had to try, no matter the cost. There was no alternative.
Finding a slightly stale but otherwise perfectly good roll, Nell let the weight of her body and her oversized canvas pack rest against the cold stone wall on the back side of the bar, slipping carefully down to a seat while avoiding the intricately carved wooden longbow that was tied haphazardly to the side of the pack with a length of orange bungee cord. It wasn’t until she took the break that she realized that her fingers were trembling. Slowly, she ate, running her spare hand through her light blonde hair, now several inches long after she had unceremoniously chopped it off several months ago, tired of the appraising stares of men everywhere she went. Now, when people stared, their eyes were more full of pity, but she could handle that a bit better. And honestly, she liked the look, the row of metal rings through her eyebrow and upper ears, the cropped off hair, and the desperation in her eyes that had faded to more of a “try me, I dare you”.
Nell was only halfway through the bread roll, which was starting to settle heavily into her stomach, when there was a commotion inside and she sprung to her feet, tucking the rest of the bread into the pocket of her jacket. She didn’t need trouble and wasn’t sure why it always seemed to find her. And it really wasn’t a good time for it, as the lightheadness of the hunger mixed with the heavy, dry crumbs settling in her stomach made her vision blur, and she steadied herself shakily against the wall.
Through the heaving swirl of her vision, she saw the source of the commotion, or perhaps its outcome, as two barmaids came cursing from the bar, dragging a heavy, limp weight behind them towards the trash pile. When Nell saw their load, what used to be a man with a thick, ungodly gash through the top of his skull, she promptly heaved violently once, twice, before the world went black.
When she awoke again, she was propped up in a corner booth inside of a warm establishment, and one of the barmaids was pressing a cold cloth to her forehead, muttering in annoyance under her breath. Flinching away from the unfamiliar touch, Nell's hands flailed nervously until she found the familiar cloth of her pack beside her on the bench and visibly relaxed. Half-chewed and soggy bread bits were spattered down the front of her top but she didn't yet wipe them away, blinking first into the din of the musty, iron-scented air of the bar.
Once, life had been easy, warm, and familiar. Now, Nell ran on adrenaline, and stopping too long, thinking too hard, would zap the last bit of strength from her. And that she couldn’t risk. Not now.
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