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IsabellaRose last won the day on May 16
IsabellaRose had the most liked content!
About IsabellaRose
- Date of Birth 08/29/1980 (45 years old)
Personal Information
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Sex
Female
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Sexuality
Pansexual
Roleplayer Information
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Private Roleplays?
No, I don't.
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My Roleplayer Preferences
Recent Profile Visitors
Mood

- Currently Feeling Very Sad
IsabellaRose's Achievements
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AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality started following IsabellaRose
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Professor Evelyn Thorne
Images added to a gallery album owned by IsabellaRose in Private Roleplaying Characters
Professor Evelyn Thorne teaches English Literature at Westbridge Academy with the unsettling intensity of someone who has personally argued with ancient gods and won. Her classroom smells faintly of old paper, candle wax, and tea leaves. Every wall is lined with books filled with handwritten notes in impossibly elegant script. Students enter expecting ordinary discussions about classic literature and instead find themselves trapped in unnervingly intimate dissections of fear, obsession, grief, temptation, and desire. Nobody leaves her classroom unchanged. Officially, Evelyn teaches literature, mythology, folklore, and poetry. Unofficially, she is one of the most powerful practicing witches currently operating within the hidden global defense network protecting humanity from The Enemy. Her coven has no central headquarters. Its members are scattered across continents like living anchors in a planetary defense grid, witches hidden inside universities, hospitals, governments, monasteries, and cities worldwide. They rarely meet face-to-face. Most communication happens through dreams, ritual projection, coded texts, and synchronized spellwork performed across continents like a magical nervous system holding humanity together. Every member of the coven is responsible for maintaining part of the world’s defenses against The Enemy, and almost every night, somewhere in the world, one of them dies holding a barrier closed. Evelyn maintains the northeastern protection lattice centered beneath Westbridge Academy. The school itself sits atop converging ley lines and sealed fractures in reality. The wards embedded throughout the campus require constant reinforcement through ritual maintenance disguised as ordinary academic routines. Poetry recitations reinforce mnemonic barriers, bell schedules synchronize protective timing rituals, theater productions stabilize emotional resonance fields, and certain novels are assigned because their narrative structures naturally repel invasive entities. Most students think Westbridge is unusually intense academically. They are technically correct, but most don't understand why until their senior year. Evelyn herself is elegant, composed, and perpetually exhausted. She carries herself with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how fragile reality actually is. Staff find her intimidating largely because she speaks about horrifying supernatural phenomena with the same tone most people use to discuss weather forecasts. Students alternate between crushing on her and fearing her. Faculty members fare little better. Unlike Aya Sato’s cold severity, Evelyn’s danger feels seductive and intellectual. She does not threaten, she invites curiosity. She asks questions people should not want answered, and that is precisely the problem. Evelyn is fascinated by corruption. She's not fascinated by moral corruption exactly, more by temptation, transformation, the moment someone crosses a line they swore they never would, the instant fear becomes desire, the dangerous intimacy between humanity and monstrosity. She studies forbidden texts too eagerly, volunteers for containment rituals involving entities other witches refuse to approach, and has an unnerving habit of speaking to sealed horrors like they are difficult but interesting house guests. Part of this fascination is professional. The other part absolutely is not. The truth Evelyn would rather die than admit is that she is intensely attracted to dangerous inhuman things. Not mindless monsters or beasts, mind you, but intelligence, ancientness, power... the unsettling wrongness of something wearing humanity almost correctly. A creature with golden eyes and too many teeth explaining philosophy in a velvet voice could have her knees weak and her body charged with desire. This has made her fellow faculty members unbearably smug, especially after an incident during a containment breach beneath the academy when Evelyn became visibly flustered while negotiating with a chained supernatural entity that was openly flirting with her in ancient Sumerian. The combat instructor had to physically drag her out of the ritual chamber while she was still arguing that, “In my defense, it was extremely articulate.” Now the staff tease her about flirting with supernatural beings, asking if she’s “emotionally compromised” during investigations, forbidding her from interviewing attractive cult leaders alone, always making her she's accompanied whenever an entity is described as “mysterious” or “beautiful”, and reminding her that “trying to fix the eldritch horror” is not an approved tactical strategy. Evelyn insists these accusations are insulting, reductive, and wildly exaggerated. -
Ms. Aya Sato
Images added to a gallery album owned by IsabellaRose in Private Roleplaying Characters
Ms. Aya Sato teaches mathematics at Westbridge Academy with the same precision other people use to perform surgery. With Aya, every movement is economical, every word deliberate, every lesson plan timed down to the minute. She can solve advanced calculus problems in her head while simultaneously identifying which student in the back row is cheating. Nobody is late to her class twice. Students fear her. Faculty respect her. Somehow a five-minute conversation with Ms. Sato leaves even the worst delinquents sitting upright and reconsidering their life choices. What almost nobody knows is that mathematics is only half of what she teaches. Hidden beneath Westbridge Academy’s polished halls and elite academic reputation is a clandestine training program dedicated to preparing the next generation of warriors to battle The Enemy. Aya Sato lost everything to The Enemy. She was born the daughter of a powerful Yakuza patriarch, raised in an environment where violence, discipline, and loyalty were taught before reading and writing. Her father believed survival was an art form. By the age of twelve, Aya could disarm an armed attacker using a pen, a ruler, or a broken wine glass. By fifteen, she could field-strip firearms blindfolded, identify weak points in body armor, and turn household objects into lethal weapons with terrifying creativity. Then The Enemy came for her family. Her father died fighting. Her brothers vanished. Entire compounds burned. The organization that once ruled districts from the shadows was annihilated almost overnight by something far worse than rival gangs or law enforcement. But Aya survived, and she has spent every year since sharpening herself into the weapon that will destroy The Enemy. At Westbridge Academy, she is part of the secret training program, training select students in supernatural combat techniques. Her students often joke that surviving her algebra exams feels like military training. They are more correct than they realize. Aya herself is terrifying in combat, frighteningly fast, unnervingly calm, and capable of weaponizing almost anything within arm’s reach. Scissors, chalk, serving trays, belts, pencils, broken furniture, a tea cup. Once she put a fully grown attacker through a reinforced display case using nothing but a clipboard. The truly unsettling part is how little emotion she shows while doing it. In public, Ms. Sato is composed to the point of intimidation: cold-eyed, elegant, disciplined, and utterly merciless toward incompetence. She walks through the halls like a drawn blade wrapped in silk. Even other faculty members lower their voices around her instinctively. But away from classrooms and combat training, Aya’s iron composure fractures completely for the right person. Beneath the terrifying exterior is a woman carrying years of grief, pressure, and exhaustion, someone who secretly craves surrendering control after spending her entire life forced to maintain it. She is intensely private about relationships, but those who earn her trust discover a startling contrast: the fearsome combat instructor becomes obedient and submissive under genuine dominance and affection. Praise affects her far more than threats ever could. A firm hand at the small of her back from her Dom/me can destabilize her composure faster than an armed opponent. This duality horrifies her. It also, unfortunately, makes her incredibly easy to tease if someone knows her secret. -
Miss Madeleine "Maddie" Hart
Images added to a gallery album owned by IsabellaRose in Private Roleplaying Characters
Miss Hart is the newest member of the staff at Westbridge Academy. She was hired to be the Health and Wellness teacher before she realized that over half of her curriculum was Sex Education and that most of the students in her senior health class were eighteen-year-olds who should have graduated already but somehow didn’t. Maddie is intelligent, enthusiastic, and disastrously earnest. She genuinely wants to help her students make good choices, communicate honestly, and grow into decent adults. Unfortunately, she also has terrible luck. She’s the kind of woman who climbs onto a desk to hang a projector screen and somehow gets her skirt caught on a hook, pulling it up dangerously high at the risk of exposing her unmentionables to the entire class, the kind who bends down to pick up anatomy flashcards right as the classroom door swings open and the entire class finds her on her hands and knees with her posterior aimed directly at them, the kind who confidently demonstrates “proper stretching posture” and realizes too late that the entire class has gone completely silent behind her. The universe seems personally invested in putting her into situations that look scandalous from exactly the wrong angle. Despite this, Maddie refuses to become cold or cynical. She wants to be respected, taken seriously, seen as professional... even if she trips on an extension cord and falls into the principals lap more often than seems realistically possible. Maddie is warm and approachable, but easily flustered. She tries very hard to stay professional, and is secretly a huge nerd about anatomy and psychology. She can be competitive without meaning to be, and is terrible at recognizing when people are flirting with her, whether it's appropriate or not. -
It's just everything. Literally everything. My job, all the crap about my mother, my fucked up family, my relationship being up in the air, the world in general, watching people be gleeful about hurting others, everything combining to make me wish I could escape this timeline and find the alternate one where society actually prizes humanity and empathy and we collectively to lift each other up instead of what I see all around me now. I'm trying so hard to not give up in the face of everything falling apart all around me. It's really hard. I know I'm strong, but everyone has limits. I'm running out of steam. I try to be kind like I always am to everyone, my coworkers, my neighbors, everyone I interact with during my day, but every interaction just brings a tear to my eye and puts me on the verge of total emotional collapse. It's exhausting trying to be a positive light in a world of darkness. Sometimes I lay awake at night wondering when the end will come, if it will be sudden or a long, slow, lingering time of suffering, and I am certain it will be the latter. I don't know if I'm built for that kind of suffering. But I try every day to get up and be the smile someone needs, the kind words that might lift someone else out of despair, and none of the people I interact with know my own inner misery and melancholy. I spit it out in words like this on some anonymous website, but in reality, people probably hate how positive and happy I appear in my everyday life. You'd never recognize me in the real world. I want to project hope and positivity, support and love and caring, all the things I believe makes humans good, when what I really feel is wretched gloom and hopelessness. Is that a the kind of lie that isn't so bad if it helps someone else? I don't even know why I'm writing this all out in a public forum. I should probably delete all these words and just post something short and snarky, maybe a little sexy, let everyone see the me I've carefully crafted here, the curated Izzy, the one who always says something fun, funny, or flirty. But I'm falling apart right along with the rest of the world, and at least here, anonymously, I can be honest. I am hurting. Not just personally, but yes, that, too. But I am hurting for the possibility that we could have risen above our pettiness, our selfishness, our fear of anything "other". I hurt for the victimized as well as the dupes who hate what they don't know. I hurt for the disenfranchised, but also for the blindness of the ones who were taken for a ride, for that self-aware moment they may one day have that their hatred was weaponized against their neighbors, friends, family, against the very people who would have loved them unconditionally. I hurt for our failed society. I hurt for our failed humanity. I hurt for what we've become when I know what we could have been. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not enough to make a difference to the people I love. I wish I were stronger. I wish those of you who need it could be right here so I could hug you and share a meal and conversation with you, be the human you need and by doing so, make my own heart that much larger for containing you, too. I wish I could be that person for everyone who needs it. But instead I'm hiding in my house, afraid to be who I really am, afraid of the consequences of being "other" so I keep pretending to be what they want me to be, because it keeps money coming into my bank account, keeps this roof over my head, food on my table, savings in an account so one day I can hopefully quit that job and stop pretending. But that day may never come. Living in a failing empire is only fun for the ones on top, and none of us are those ones. We'll all be crushed sooner or later in the name of profit, in the name of progress, in the name of whatever new label they create for the exploitation of everyone else for their benefit. I hope you can find some peace during these dark days. I hope you have someone to love, someone to hold, someone to talk to. I am surrounded by people most days and have never felt so alone. They say you can only see the stars once it gets truly dark, but that's little consolation to me right now in this rapidly descending dusk. Oh, and um. Here's something sad and sexy, because it's still me. A lonely, lovely young woman, discovered to be the artificial creation that she is. She only wanted to love and be loved, but instead she was alone.
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I'm generating ideas again, so that's something. But the writing is still just not coming like I want. I've never had anything hit my ability to write like this has. Usually ideas come and words flow. My head is just not where it usually is. I honestly have no idea what's happening in my brain these days.
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IsabellaRose started following Horny Supes Dating Club
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Group Roleplay Idea: Superheroes vs. Supervillains, but they mostly just use their "crimes" as a sort of excuse for super-powered hookups. Someone starts some kind of super-powered criminal behavior and someone else shows up to "stop" them, but it's really just an excuse to get out, meet other supes, and fuck with masks on. Once someone is beaten, the unwritten rule is that they become the submissive partner and let the winner live out their kinks. Some pairings happen quite often, with "arch nemeses" really being people who want to fuck each other all the time. Some individuals have both super hero and super villain alter egos so they can play both sides. Some low powered supes or villains know they can't win but show up just to be made to submit. It's just one big, kink-filled, fuck club of super powered people, and no one is really good or evil, they're all just horny. Who would your character be?
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"Divine Evolution"
IsabellaRose commented on Kai Ichimasu's bulletin post in Private Roleplayers Bulletin Board
That's a really fun idea. I can imagine a few different character ideas, just a normal, lesser species living their life and suddenly an Evo shows up, infects them, and they're a superhero. Their life changes, they can help so many people, but then... by the way, I gave you this so we could have children, so... unzip, baby. It's go time. Sounds fun!- 1 comment
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- smut heavy
- alien
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IsabellaRose changed their profile photo
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Guilty-ish. I've traveled some, but I would probably enjoy more... though I'm not as adventurous as I once was. The next person would do something illegal to become independently wealthy.
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hello! Hello toxictiff is here
IsabellaRose replied to toxictiff Deactivated's topic in EcchiDreamers Welcome Forum
It's great to see someone else here with similar interests and style. Perhaps we'll get to play some time when I get back to active roleplaying. Either way, welcome to the site! -
I knew there was something else that we had in common. Turns out it's the wonky Palladium system for TMNT and Other Strangeness. I fell in love with Transdimensional TMNT back in the day and spent entirely too much time adventuring in alternate dimensions and throughout history using that book and Beyond the Supernatural.
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Cortex Steampunk Game 1 OOC Discussion
IsabellaRose replied to IsabellaRose's topic in TTRPG Club's Discussion
Hey everyone! I just got into Myrtle Beach at 3:00am after driving 14 hours. I can’t remember if I let everyone know I was going to be gone for a week or not, but if you didn’t know before, now you do! I may post from here, but this trip is all work and no play (well, a couple days of play) as I’m taking my niece to visit colleges in South Carolina and Florida. It’s all driving and touring campuses and sleeping in a new hotel every night. So yeah.. no rest for the Izzy! -
She's been described physically, that's for sure, but I don't know anything about her as a character other than how she looks. To be honest, unless you're describing her for an artist or AI to generate an image, that feels like way too much physical detail. For starters, I'd probably rewrite her intro into something a little less technically detailed. Maybe something like: "A tall, striking woman entered, her movements fluid and self-assured, carrying an unmistakable air of quiet power. Her skin, a deep ruby with a faint metallic sheen, caught the light as she moved, highlighting the strength in her sculpted frame. Six arms shifted with effortless grace, lending her presence something both mesmerizing and unsettling. From her back, vast leathery wings unfolded, their dark red membranes edged with clawed joints that glinted with small pieces of jewelry. They could just as easily enfold her as they could dominate the space around her. Behind her head, a crown of sleek, tentacle-like tendrils fell to her waist, framing a sharp, elegant face with high cheekbones and softly curved lips. Her eyes, black as voids and lit by a glowing ruby iris, fixed on the world with unsettling intensity. She wore black leather that clung and crossed over her torso, paired with short-cut bottoms and high boots that accentuated her long legs. A slender tail curved behind her, ending in a wicked stinger that swayed with quiet intent. Rings and small adornments of gold and silver caught the light as she moved, each detail reinforcing the same impression: She was beautiful, dangerous, and entirely in control." Beyond that... who is she? What's her core identity, her background, her role in the world? What is her personality like - her temperament, habits, quirks, mannerisms? How does she treat others? What are her external and internal goals? Her motivation? Her flaws and strengths? What external and internal conflict will she face? What relationships does she have - allies, enemies, power dynamics? Essentially, we need enough character details to tell us why we should care about all of those physical details. If you only define a few things, make it these: what she wants, why she wants it, what’s stopping her, what’s wrong with her (flaw), how she changes. That should be the bare bones to build a compelling character.
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[M4F] A Cheating Wife Gets More Than She Bargained For!
IsabellaRose commented on Hotpocket15's bulletin post in Private Roleplayers Bulletin Board
This one’s not getting any love, is it? -
New Roleplay Ideas
IsabellaRose commented on Ambiguous_lit's bulletin post in Private Roleplayers Bulletin Board
Might be fun to play that with the roommate coming home and joining in ;) -
Above the stage, Kojo moved carefully along the narrow iron catwalks while Billy and Carter hovered nearby, lantern light trembling across beams and ropes. The air smelled faintly of grease and dust, the ordinary scent of stage machinery... except for the addition of the scent of blood. Carter pointed to the prints, which were unmistakably a woman’s heeled shoes, small and narrow. They began directly above the place where Silas Ward had fallen and continued toward the junction where two catwalks met. Just before that junction hung the first real revelation. Suspended in the darkness was a stage harness, the sort used in flying acts and theatrical illusions, but of a make unlike any owned by the Rebirth Hall. Thin cables, almost invisible, held it aloft. Kojo had to squint to follow them as they ran upward through a series of compact pulleys mounted in the rafters. Whatever material they were made from, it was not the thick rope or common steel used by the theater crew. These lines could have hauled a body upward in seconds, lifting whoever wore the harness straight into the darkness above the curtains while remaining all but invisible to anyone watching. The bloody prints continued. They led toward the meeting point of the catwalks where another clue had been left behind. There, sprawled across the metal grating, lay a bundle of heavy round wires, thick cables terminating in enormous round plugs of unfamiliar design. All of the plugs had been gathered together in a tight cluster, as though they had once been connected to a single device that had since been removed. Kojo could see where the cables ran afterward, threading upward into the ceiling and spreading out in every direction, vanishing into the rafters like the strands of a vast mechanical web. Whatever had been here… it had not belonged to the theater. Below, the hall had grown quieter as the crowd thinned. Deputy Boone lingered near the stage when a new presence arrived beside him, cool and composed. Kirsa Autenrieth stepped forward with the ease of someone who expected obedience without raising her voice. She took in the scene in a single sweep of her eyes before looking upward toward the catwalk. “Mr. Amankona,” she called calmly. “You have done quite enough.” Her tone was not hostile, but it carried the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. “Please come down now and leave the investigation to the professionals.” - - - Across town, the Golden Stag Casino glowed with warm lamplight, its velvet and polished brass a stark contrast to the chaos left behind at the music hall. TIAL-V stood beside and a step behind Edmund Blackwood, posture impeccable, voice calm as ever while he delivered his report. “Regarding Sheriff Joshua Thane,” the automaton said, hands folded behind his back. “He has held the position for approximately one year. Publicly, he is regarded as a decisive authority figure with strong support among the rail interests and the mining syndicates. Privately, however, there are numerous reports, unsubstantiated but persistent, regarding his treatment of women in his custody or under his protection.” The automaton paused before continuing with clinical precision. “There are allegations of intimidation, coercion, and forced compliance. None have resulted in formal charges.” He tilted his head slightly, as if accessing another layer of information. “Two women in particular are worth noting. Both disappeared within the last three years. Both were last known to have been under Sheriff Thane’s supervision shortly before their disappearance.” He took another brief pause. “My analysis places the probability that Sheriff Thane is responsible for their disappearance at sixty-three percent.” Within moments of the report being delivered, the doors of the Golden Stag opened again, admitting another visitor. Aldert Helsink entered with several men right behind him. He paused by the doorway as if for dramatic effect, and then approached Edmund with the poise of a nobleman entering a drawing room rather than a saloon. His men remained near the door or headed toward the bar. He inclined his head in a courteous bow, one hand resting lightly over his chest. “Mr. Blackwood,” he said in a smooth European accent, “permit me first to extend my apologies for the… unpleasantness earlier this evening.” His eyes flicked briefly toward TIAL-V before returning to Edmund. “You must understand that my actions were motivated entirely by concern for the safety of this town. The young lady in question is… dangerous. Far more dangerous than she appears.” He spread his hands lightly, as though offering a simple truth. “But do not worry. I will prove it to you before I make accusations again. In time you and everyone in this town will understand my caution and my hunt. When you do, you will gladly assist in ensuring that such a creature is handled properly.” His smile was courteous. “And permanently.” - - - On the road toward the hills where the wealthy had built their homes, the night air carried the scent of dust and pine from the hills beyond the town. Shadows pooled between buildings where lantern light did not quite reach. One of those shadows shifted. Jack Beckett stepped forward from the mouth of an alley, tipping his hat politely as Alicia and Missy passed. “Begging your pardon, Miss Alicia,” he said quietly, gesturing toward the dark line of trees just up the hill. “But there’s men waiting just inside them trees… and they don’t look too friendly.” His eyes flicked down to Alicia’s blood-stained dress, going momentarily wide. “Are you both all right?” His eyes took them both in, and when it seemed that they were both actually fine, he let himself breathe. But still, he hesitated, clearly unaware of the incident at the music hall. “What happened?” Then he straightened slightly, determination settling in his posture. “And… how can I help?”