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roxthefox87
Meteorite
- Joined
- Jul 9, 2016
- Location
- Philadelphia
The Cravings of a Fox, Continued. (Female Looking)(PM/EMAIL)
***So... I'm back. Again.***
I RP'd here a bunch a while ago, but got burned out by having too many consecutive RPs going at the same time. It became too much for me to keep up with, given my personal and professional life. But, I'm back, and I'm looking to get going. I still consider myself to be a pretty strong RPer, and those who’ve RPed with me in the past would probably attest to that, while at the same time I think they’ve generally enjoyed the experience while it was going on.
Therefore, I’m giving it another go.
I apologize to any of my previous RP partners that may feel abandoned. It wasn't anything personal, and was entirely my fault. If you remember me and want to give it another go, shoot me a message and we can see about setting that up.
Or if you're new, and you’re looking for a partner, let me give you some examples of what I can offer…
...here are a few of my posts from previous RPs…
…DISCRETION IS ADVISED...
So yeah, now that you can tell what the kind of RPer I am, and maybe I’ve piqued your interest; here are some of the kinks, pairings, and other information we might need in order to get together...
-Favorite Kinks-
Interracial, FUTA, Furries, Bestiality, Ageplay, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Sexual Torture, Humiliation, Degradation, Violence, Raceplay, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Watersports, Snuff, Prostitution, Drug use, Incest, Fantasy Settings, Modern Settings, Vampires, Demons, Monsters.
-Off Limits Kinks-
Scat. Feet.
-Pairings I'm Craving Right Now-
Mother x Son (I'd prefer 1st Role)
Father x Daughter (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
Anthro Futa x Femmeboy (I can play either Role)
Teacher x Student (I can play either Role)
Serial Killer/Rapist x Victim (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
Vampire x Victim (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
Monster x Victim (I can play either Role)
Demon x Victim (I can play either Role)
Kidnappers x Celebrity (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
I'm willing to play multiple characters if the RP calls for it, and of course I'm open to discussing additional roles, settings, or themes. If you have an idea you're really craving, and think we can be compatible, then throw it by me, and maybe I'll be into it.
As for posting frequency, you can expect me to reply on average 4-5 times a week, though there will be times where I can be far more active. It all depends on my work schedule, the time I spend with my hubby, and other variables. I will try to be communicative with you regarding this.
Well, I think that's it. I'm sure there are other things I'll think of adding to this thread, and will be doing so as I go on. Feel free to PM ME if you're interested in setting something up.
Thanks for stopping on by, I've been Rox the Fox!
***So... I'm back. Again.***
I RP'd here a bunch a while ago, but got burned out by having too many consecutive RPs going at the same time. It became too much for me to keep up with, given my personal and professional life. But, I'm back, and I'm looking to get going. I still consider myself to be a pretty strong RPer, and those who’ve RPed with me in the past would probably attest to that, while at the same time I think they’ve generally enjoyed the experience while it was going on.
Therefore, I’m giving it another go.
I apologize to any of my previous RP partners that may feel abandoned. It wasn't anything personal, and was entirely my fault. If you remember me and want to give it another go, shoot me a message and we can see about setting that up.
Or if you're new, and you’re looking for a partner, let me give you some examples of what I can offer…
...here are a few of my posts from previous RPs…
…DISCRETION IS ADVISED...
Truthfully, Cassy wasn’t really a mall type of girl; the big crowds of people made her anxious, and the air-conditioning always made her hands cold. Worst of all it was always packed with classmates that she didn’t necessarily like, or get along with. But as it was, it was one of the few places she could escape to whenever her crazed mother went off on one of her Biblical rants, accusing Cassy of being no good. It was an unpleasant place of solace to the teenage girl, and as she walked by another shop that she couldn’t afford, she spotted the reflection of some familiar faces.
Glancing to her left, she saw Christina, Jessica, and Jennifer; three of the most popular girls from school sitting among a cadre of other girls, and their apparent boyfriends. The cool kids, Cassy thought as she looked them over. Gucci. Prada. Dior. Each of them wore the best and most expensive brands of clothing, shoes, and had beautiful handbags that made the old torn leather satchel Cassy wore look trashy by comparison. They were children born of fortune, and privilege.
Something Cassy simply was not.
“Hey, move it girl!” hollered a random mall patron as he bumped into Cassy, nearly knocking her over as she stood motionless outside of a store.
“S-s-sorry…” she replied softly, her blue eyes failing to look to the man who’d ran into her.
She felt like an idiot as she realized she’d just stopped in the middle of the walkway, people rushing past her as they went about their lives. Turning her gaze back to Christina and the others, she saw that they’d noticed her as they pointed, and laughed in a chorus. Immediately Cassy felt her face redden in embarrassment, and she looked away nervously as she began to briskly walk away from them.
“Where you headed, freak girl?!?!” hollered one of the boys that’d been hanging out with Christina and the others.
Glancing to her left, she saw Christina, Jessica, and Jennifer; three of the most popular girls from school sitting among a cadre of other girls, and their apparent boyfriends. The cool kids, Cassy thought as she looked them over. Gucci. Prada. Dior. Each of them wore the best and most expensive brands of clothing, shoes, and had beautiful handbags that made the old torn leather satchel Cassy wore look trashy by comparison. They were children born of fortune, and privilege.
Something Cassy simply was not.
“Hey, move it girl!” hollered a random mall patron as he bumped into Cassy, nearly knocking her over as she stood motionless outside of a store.
“S-s-sorry…” she replied softly, her blue eyes failing to look to the man who’d ran into her.
She felt like an idiot as she realized she’d just stopped in the middle of the walkway, people rushing past her as they went about their lives. Turning her gaze back to Christina and the others, she saw that they’d noticed her as they pointed, and laughed in a chorus. Immediately Cassy felt her face redden in embarrassment, and she looked away nervously as she began to briskly walk away from them.
“Where you headed, freak girl?!?!” hollered one of the boys that’d been hanging out with Christina and the others.
Everything that Abigail and her fellow staffers had put together was right on the money, and it seemed like a really good bet that there’d be some form of formal accord between the new Liberian administration, and the US Government. It was ‘a historical achievement’ according to her boss, Ambassador Kevin Rheems. It really made Abigail feel so proud to be a member of the diplomatic corps, and more specifically an American. She beamed with confidence as she sat in the back of the black SUV that drove her, and her fellows back to the compound where they’d been staying prior to the meeting.
”That couldn’t have gone any better!” exclaimed Freddy, one of the other staffers as he looked in the rearview mirror to Abigail. She’d come to know him pretty well over the last few months; he was an older man, and had a huge family waiting for him at home. He’d shown pictures of his seven children to Abigail on more than one occasion, but she’d never feigned away from the pleasantries of life.
”I mean, everything that we--“ Freddy was cut off mid-sentence, and the world suddenly went totally awry. The vehicle had flipped, something having slammed into the front of it with a loud boom, and when it’d stopped rolling Abigail felt herself being pulled inexorably upward toward the roof of the vehicle, though her seatbelt held her in her place. Her ears rang, and her neck and back ached as though she’d just been in a severe accident. As everything started to become clear, she brought a hand to her forehead and felt a trickle of something against her fingers.
“Nnnnh! What…” she whimpered as her vision began to clear. “What happened? Are… Freddy?” she called out, trying to get her bearings, which is when she feels the immense waves of heat coming at her from the front of what used to be the car. “Freddy?!?!?” she calls out louder, forcing open her eyes as she can see clearly enough, that both Freddy and the driver are motionless, blood splattered everywhere and pooling on the roof of the SUV as their faces are blank, and it dawns on Abigail that they’re both dead.
She whimpers in sorrow as she reaches for her seatbelt buckle, and when it detaches she falls into a slump on the roof, her realization that she was upside down coming as she places a hand in the puddle of blood beneath her. In the distance she hears screaming, and the unmistakable staccato of gunfire. “Mnah… oh God…” she begins to panic, her understanding of events becoming clear. Their convoy had been attacked, her SUV hit with some sort of explosive that had killed both her driver, and Freddy.
“HELP!!!” she screamed out in desperation as she looked out through the shattered and bloodied windshield, beyond which the glow of flames was clearly evident. Her vehicle was on fire, with her in it still. Grunting she reaches for the door latch, and is shocked when it actually releases. Suddenly the sound of gunfire grows louder, and even closer to her. Climbing out from the wreckage, she crawls desperately on the blazing hot pavement as the noontime sun glares down on her from overhead.
“Nnnh… nnnh!” She whimpers, the sound of gunfire mounting, and drawing even closer. Leaning against the open door of the SUV, she spots the other vehicles of the convoy behind her, each of them upright, but riddled with hundreds of bullet holes. She sees bodies lying still just outside of them, pools of blood, and she hears screams coming from somewhere. Then she jumps in sudden shock as gunfire pops just beside her, her ears ringing with each shot as she turns to see a pair of dark-skinned African men, each holding an automatic weapon.
“This one’s alive!” proclaims one of them aloud, his voice accented heavily.
“Help me!” Abigail asks in desperation as she reaches out toward them, her hand coated in blood. They turn to her, their rifles at the ready as though to shoot her dead then and there, but another voice calls out from nearby to stop them. Cowering away in fear, Abigail sobs as she’s afraid of death; afraid that they’re going to kill her. “Don’t… don’t kill me, please. I… I don’t want to die…” she pleads, her hands trembling in terror.
”Step away!” hollers the unseen voice, and the pair of armed men stand back. The third man approaches, he’s older than the first two, and he’s clearly in charge. ”We take this one to The Butcher! We let him decide her fate!” he explains before walking away a brisk pace. The other two sling their weapons around their shoulders, and step closer to Abigail, grabbing and lifting her up by her arms.
“Nnnh… don’t hurt me, please.” she pleads as they pick her up, her legs feeling weak beneath of her as they begin dragging her away from the overturned SUV. Looking back, Abigail sees their leader stand over a surrendered man, whom she recognizes as one of their security personnel; there’s a brief exchange until the man in charge points a pistol at the man’s head, and shoots. “Ahhhh!” she screams in shock as the man drops lifeless to the ground, and an instant later the world goes black.
* * * Sometime Later * * *
Soreness in Abigail’s neck and back beginning to penetrate her unconscious state, and slowly her dazed eyes begin to open. Blinking heavily so as to clear the blur in them, she begins to get her bearings again. She’s inside of somewhere, a room, and on the wall is a flag with a dripping cleaver on it. The flag is red black and green, and the cleaver is clenched by a black fist. The attack, all of it comes back to Abigail in a rush, and her head snaps too as she begins to look around in a panic.
Though as she tries to move, she realizes she’s been chained to a chair. Her eyes catch movement, and she spots man walking around another man who’s also chained to a chair. It’s Ambassador Rheems, and he’s alive. Gagged, Abigail cannot speak, nor call out to him. Instead she just watches as a tall well fit dark skin African man in military fatigues walks around him, pointing at him, hollering, and then pointing into a camera as it’s apparently recording. Abigail sees a few other African men standing nearby, each holding an Assault Rifle, and her heart begins to race as she panics.
She knows who these men are. Who the man yelling at the Ambassador is, and where she’s been taken. They are the Militia of The Butcher, and he is the man standing over the Ambassador. An avowed terrorist, he has been waging a bloody and merciless war against the Liberian Government for their involvement with the west. Known for his absolute contempt for and hatred of Americans, she knows that they’re hostages now.
”That couldn’t have gone any better!” exclaimed Freddy, one of the other staffers as he looked in the rearview mirror to Abigail. She’d come to know him pretty well over the last few months; he was an older man, and had a huge family waiting for him at home. He’d shown pictures of his seven children to Abigail on more than one occasion, but she’d never feigned away from the pleasantries of life.
”I mean, everything that we--“ Freddy was cut off mid-sentence, and the world suddenly went totally awry. The vehicle had flipped, something having slammed into the front of it with a loud boom, and when it’d stopped rolling Abigail felt herself being pulled inexorably upward toward the roof of the vehicle, though her seatbelt held her in her place. Her ears rang, and her neck and back ached as though she’d just been in a severe accident. As everything started to become clear, she brought a hand to her forehead and felt a trickle of something against her fingers.
“Nnnnh! What…” she whimpered as her vision began to clear. “What happened? Are… Freddy?” she called out, trying to get her bearings, which is when she feels the immense waves of heat coming at her from the front of what used to be the car. “Freddy?!?!?” she calls out louder, forcing open her eyes as she can see clearly enough, that both Freddy and the driver are motionless, blood splattered everywhere and pooling on the roof of the SUV as their faces are blank, and it dawns on Abigail that they’re both dead.
She whimpers in sorrow as she reaches for her seatbelt buckle, and when it detaches she falls into a slump on the roof, her realization that she was upside down coming as she places a hand in the puddle of blood beneath her. In the distance she hears screaming, and the unmistakable staccato of gunfire. “Mnah… oh God…” she begins to panic, her understanding of events becoming clear. Their convoy had been attacked, her SUV hit with some sort of explosive that had killed both her driver, and Freddy.
“HELP!!!” she screamed out in desperation as she looked out through the shattered and bloodied windshield, beyond which the glow of flames was clearly evident. Her vehicle was on fire, with her in it still. Grunting she reaches for the door latch, and is shocked when it actually releases. Suddenly the sound of gunfire grows louder, and even closer to her. Climbing out from the wreckage, she crawls desperately on the blazing hot pavement as the noontime sun glares down on her from overhead.
“Nnnh… nnnh!” She whimpers, the sound of gunfire mounting, and drawing even closer. Leaning against the open door of the SUV, she spots the other vehicles of the convoy behind her, each of them upright, but riddled with hundreds of bullet holes. She sees bodies lying still just outside of them, pools of blood, and she hears screams coming from somewhere. Then she jumps in sudden shock as gunfire pops just beside her, her ears ringing with each shot as she turns to see a pair of dark-skinned African men, each holding an automatic weapon.
“This one’s alive!” proclaims one of them aloud, his voice accented heavily.
“Help me!” Abigail asks in desperation as she reaches out toward them, her hand coated in blood. They turn to her, their rifles at the ready as though to shoot her dead then and there, but another voice calls out from nearby to stop them. Cowering away in fear, Abigail sobs as she’s afraid of death; afraid that they’re going to kill her. “Don’t… don’t kill me, please. I… I don’t want to die…” she pleads, her hands trembling in terror.
”Step away!” hollers the unseen voice, and the pair of armed men stand back. The third man approaches, he’s older than the first two, and he’s clearly in charge. ”We take this one to The Butcher! We let him decide her fate!” he explains before walking away a brisk pace. The other two sling their weapons around their shoulders, and step closer to Abigail, grabbing and lifting her up by her arms.
“Nnnh… don’t hurt me, please.” she pleads as they pick her up, her legs feeling weak beneath of her as they begin dragging her away from the overturned SUV. Looking back, Abigail sees their leader stand over a surrendered man, whom she recognizes as one of their security personnel; there’s a brief exchange until the man in charge points a pistol at the man’s head, and shoots. “Ahhhh!” she screams in shock as the man drops lifeless to the ground, and an instant later the world goes black.
* * * Sometime Later * * *
Soreness in Abigail’s neck and back beginning to penetrate her unconscious state, and slowly her dazed eyes begin to open. Blinking heavily so as to clear the blur in them, she begins to get her bearings again. She’s inside of somewhere, a room, and on the wall is a flag with a dripping cleaver on it. The flag is red black and green, and the cleaver is clenched by a black fist. The attack, all of it comes back to Abigail in a rush, and her head snaps too as she begins to look around in a panic.
Though as she tries to move, she realizes she’s been chained to a chair. Her eyes catch movement, and she spots man walking around another man who’s also chained to a chair. It’s Ambassador Rheems, and he’s alive. Gagged, Abigail cannot speak, nor call out to him. Instead she just watches as a tall well fit dark skin African man in military fatigues walks around him, pointing at him, hollering, and then pointing into a camera as it’s apparently recording. Abigail sees a few other African men standing nearby, each holding an Assault Rifle, and her heart begins to race as she panics.
She knows who these men are. Who the man yelling at the Ambassador is, and where she’s been taken. They are the Militia of The Butcher, and he is the man standing over the Ambassador. An avowed terrorist, he has been waging a bloody and merciless war against the Liberian Government for their involvement with the west. Known for his absolute contempt for and hatred of Americans, she knows that they’re hostages now.
Inspiration was something that’d starting coming in short supply for Katey, as everything had seemed to go so stale for her. A prominent and upcoming photographer, her agent was growing increasingly impatient as he waited for her next photo exhibit. But truthfully, Katey couldn’t find her muse. She had no idea what to photograph, and as her personal life only seemed to get more boring, her creativity had suffered horribly.
The biggest problem was her husband, Anthony, whom she’d married right out of college; he’d been older than her, almost twice her age, and though she thought she’d loved him, she clearly hadn’t. Whatever they’d had in common paled in comparison to what they didn’t, and worst of all any sex drive that he’d had, had since dried up completely since their wedding. Not that he was a prize beforehand anyway. But the effect of feeling dead on the water was having a lasting effect for Katey now, and her work was severely suffering because of it.
Desperate to find some kind of muse, she’d left her studio early in the morning to make her way around downtown, hoping something might trigger a spark in her. Making her way up from the subway station, Katey took in a deep breath of refreshment as she looked about midtown Manhattan, trying to decide which direction she’d head in on her search; only before she could make up her mind, she felt the heat of someone bump into her side as they passed.
Glancing at the person with her austere blue eyes, she caught the shape of a strong chin, sharp cheeks, and full obsidian dark lips. A tall massive black man, built like an iron monument towered over her much shorter curvy body, and she felt her heart stop.
The biggest problem was her husband, Anthony, whom she’d married right out of college; he’d been older than her, almost twice her age, and though she thought she’d loved him, she clearly hadn’t. Whatever they’d had in common paled in comparison to what they didn’t, and worst of all any sex drive that he’d had, had since dried up completely since their wedding. Not that he was a prize beforehand anyway. But the effect of feeling dead on the water was having a lasting effect for Katey now, and her work was severely suffering because of it.
Desperate to find some kind of muse, she’d left her studio early in the morning to make her way around downtown, hoping something might trigger a spark in her. Making her way up from the subway station, Katey took in a deep breath of refreshment as she looked about midtown Manhattan, trying to decide which direction she’d head in on her search; only before she could make up her mind, she felt the heat of someone bump into her side as they passed.
Glancing at the person with her austere blue eyes, she caught the shape of a strong chin, sharp cheeks, and full obsidian dark lips. A tall massive black man, built like an iron monument towered over her much shorter curvy body, and she felt her heart stop.
Leia had been Jabba's slave for three days now. Her rescue had gone completely wrong. Han was refrozen and carbonite and Luke was nowhere to be seen. Jabba knew something but he refused to tell the fallen princess, it being his way of breaking her down mentally. He forced her to wear a skimpy golden bikini which barely covered her round breasts, her nipples nearly popping out of the top. She had a collar attached around her neck with a chain attached to it and linking her to Jabba's throne. The slimy, vile slug like gangster sat behind her, his breaths deep as he stared down at his slave. Gamorrean's guarded the door, their skin green and their faces similar to pigs. Their long, pig like snouts gave way to squeals and oinks as they spoke to one another. Jabba then suddenly yanked on Leia's chain, forcing her to be pulled into his fat, slug body.
"Ooooohhh... You've sat idly before me for too long, princess. It's time you've learned your place in MY palace. Guards, take her to the barracks to be broken in" he said in Hutteese, a language spoken by his species. Fortunately, Leia could understand him since she learned the language in school on her home planet Alderaan. The Gamorrean guards then suddenly unhooked the chain from Jabba's throne and began dragging her through the dark, dank hallways of Jabba's palace. Groans of suffering echoed through the halls as creatures and rivals were tortured by Jabba's henchman, the narrow hallways surrounded by cells. The guards eventually opened a heavy metal door to reveal a large room filled with tables, mugs, and beds off to the sides. Leia was then suddenly thrown onto her back onto one of the tables, the guards holding her chain tightly as one of the other Gamorreans began tearing off her skimpy bikini.
* * * * *
“Hey! Hey let me… let me go!” she railed against the chain that was attached to the metal banded collar around her neck. Tugging at it, she wanted to break free, but the big Gamorreans were just too much. They each weighed four times as much as she did, so it didn’t matter how hard she yanked on the chain. As they led her back into the darker depths of Jabba’s palace, she felt a sense of impending doom about her; the sounds of torture, and pain coming from those that were locked up in cells. This was a horrid place to be, and something had gone awry that had kept her here longer than was intended.
Luke was supposed to have shown up earlier; to have challenged Jabba, and to have rescued her from this fate that was surely worse than that of death. But he never showed. Something was wrong, and she could sense that it’d gone wrong in a huge way, though she wasn’t sure why she could sense it. Something had happened to Luke, and she worried about him; but her worry for him soon turned to dread as she heard a heavy metal door open, and a disgustingly dirty room beyond it.
“Where are you taking me?!?!?” She exclaimed, though she knew that this was what Jabba had had in mind. He wanted her broken, and judging by the disgusting stench in the room, and the stench of the piglike guards that were taking her there, this was where it was going to start. “No! Stop, let me go!” she screamed as one of the guards threw her onto her back onto one of the tables, only for the others to begin stripping off her bikini with ther grubby green hands. “Nnnh! No! Stop!” she cried out, trying to resist them, but it was no use.
“Help! Someone help! Han! Luke! Chewie! Please! Anyone!” she cried out as loud as she could as she felt her bare breasts exposed to the putrid hot air, followed by the sensation of another hand grabbing at the waist of the metal clasped bottoms she wore, they also being torn down off of her body, only the little black booties she’d been wearing remained. “Help me! Please!”
"Ooooohhh... You've sat idly before me for too long, princess. It's time you've learned your place in MY palace. Guards, take her to the barracks to be broken in" he said in Hutteese, a language spoken by his species. Fortunately, Leia could understand him since she learned the language in school on her home planet Alderaan. The Gamorrean guards then suddenly unhooked the chain from Jabba's throne and began dragging her through the dark, dank hallways of Jabba's palace. Groans of suffering echoed through the halls as creatures and rivals were tortured by Jabba's henchman, the narrow hallways surrounded by cells. The guards eventually opened a heavy metal door to reveal a large room filled with tables, mugs, and beds off to the sides. Leia was then suddenly thrown onto her back onto one of the tables, the guards holding her chain tightly as one of the other Gamorreans began tearing off her skimpy bikini.
* * * * *
“Hey! Hey let me… let me go!” she railed against the chain that was attached to the metal banded collar around her neck. Tugging at it, she wanted to break free, but the big Gamorreans were just too much. They each weighed four times as much as she did, so it didn’t matter how hard she yanked on the chain. As they led her back into the darker depths of Jabba’s palace, she felt a sense of impending doom about her; the sounds of torture, and pain coming from those that were locked up in cells. This was a horrid place to be, and something had gone awry that had kept her here longer than was intended.
Luke was supposed to have shown up earlier; to have challenged Jabba, and to have rescued her from this fate that was surely worse than that of death. But he never showed. Something was wrong, and she could sense that it’d gone wrong in a huge way, though she wasn’t sure why she could sense it. Something had happened to Luke, and she worried about him; but her worry for him soon turned to dread as she heard a heavy metal door open, and a disgustingly dirty room beyond it.
“Where are you taking me?!?!?” She exclaimed, though she knew that this was what Jabba had had in mind. He wanted her broken, and judging by the disgusting stench in the room, and the stench of the piglike guards that were taking her there, this was where it was going to start. “No! Stop, let me go!” she screamed as one of the guards threw her onto her back onto one of the tables, only for the others to begin stripping off her bikini with ther grubby green hands. “Nnnh! No! Stop!” she cried out, trying to resist them, but it was no use.
“Help! Someone help! Han! Luke! Chewie! Please! Anyone!” she cried out as loud as she could as she felt her bare breasts exposed to the putrid hot air, followed by the sensation of another hand grabbing at the waist of the metal clasped bottoms she wore, they also being torn down off of her body, only the little black booties she’d been wearing remained. “Help me! Please!”
So yeah, now that you can tell what the kind of RPer I am, and maybe I’ve piqued your interest; here are some of the kinks, pairings, and other information we might need in order to get together...
-Favorite Kinks-
Interracial, FUTA, Furries, Bestiality, Ageplay, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Sexual Torture, Humiliation, Degradation, Violence, Raceplay, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Watersports, Snuff, Prostitution, Drug use, Incest, Fantasy Settings, Modern Settings, Vampires, Demons, Monsters.
-Off Limits Kinks-
Scat. Feet.
-Pairings I'm Craving Right Now-
Mother x Son (I'd prefer 1st Role)
Father x Daughter (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
Anthro Futa x Femmeboy (I can play either Role)
Teacher x Student (I can play either Role)
Serial Killer/Rapist x Victim (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
Vampire x Victim (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
Monster x Victim (I can play either Role)
Demon x Victim (I can play either Role)
Kidnappers x Celebrity (I'd prefer 2nd Role)
I'm willing to play multiple characters if the RP calls for it, and of course I'm open to discussing additional roles, settings, or themes. If you have an idea you're really craving, and think we can be compatible, then throw it by me, and maybe I'll be into it.
As for posting frequency, you can expect me to reply on average 4-5 times a week, though there will be times where I can be far more active. It all depends on my work schedule, the time I spend with my hubby, and other variables. I will try to be communicative with you regarding this.
Well, I think that's it. I'm sure there are other things I'll think of adding to this thread, and will be doing so as I go on. Feel free to PM ME if you're interested in setting something up.
Thanks for stopping on by, I've been Rox the Fox!
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