STATUS:
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.
2 yrs ago
Last Seen:
9 mos ago
Joined:
6 yrs ago
Posts:
7
( / day)
VMs: 1
Status
Recent Statuses
2 yrs ago
Current
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.
Bio
About Me
I am a female writer with 15+ years of experience in role-playing. Not to age myself, but I got my start on dial-up AOL & Yahoo Chats and Neopets. I have come a long way since I started writing back in middle school! From one-liners to novella posts, I feel like I have had a taste of a little bit of everything. However, now that I am settling into myself as a writer, I am more what people might call a lazy-lit. I still love writing three to five paragraphs of material, and when inspiration is strong I still dip back into my old novella writing.
I am the mother of two fur-babies! I love my dogs, and I am happy to send pictures when we get to talking in OOC. I never shut up about my dogs. LOL. I do have a full time job, and real life will always come first with me, but writing in my main hobby, so if I do not reply daily I do aim to reply at least every other day!
What you can expect from me as a role-player:
° Female characters - sometimes I might play a male for the right plot. ° Daily or every other day responses Sometimes more if inspiration is strong! ° Three to Five paragraphs per post. ° Lots of OOC chat! I love creating friendships with my partners! Not to mention I enjoy discussing our story & characters. I am all about mood boards, pictures, songs, and anything else that reminds us of our story or characters. ° Collaboration on the story plot as well as characters. I will always contribute! ° Character Sheets with realistic face claims. ° Romance! I am always craving stories that revolve around romance. [With NSFW themes to be discussed farther in PMs if interested]
Wolfie's Writing Sample
The low rumble of the engine was the only sound that kept her company in the back of the sterile cold van. She could feel the presence of at least four other men in the back with her, had purposefully jostled herself around when they had hit various pot holes or taken a sharp turn to gather as much information about her situation as possible. Though she had to give it to the damn Irishmen, they weren’t giving away much. They were careful not to press a gun to her skin, so she had no idea if she was dealing with a Glock or a M-14. They were also silent as the grave, also smart because her father had her trained in many languages.
A helpless victim her father would never let her become.
The moment they left paved roads, she could tell despite the blindfold and handcuffs. By her calculations of the time that has passed since they had grabbed her from outside her apartment, they were either at the docks or in the junkyard. Both poplar places her father likes to conduct business, or she could be wrong all together and they weren’t using her as a bargaining chip yet. The van came to a stop and the door open flooding her dark hood with a bit of light, not that it allowed her to see anything.
“Get up, lass.” One of the men that had been sitting beside her ordered.
“No.” She said simply, unflinching even when the barrel of the gun was pressed to her head. “Hah! You don’t threaten me with that, you cannot kill me. I am still too valued. Don’t look like an idiot in front of your friends, put it away!”
The man gave an irritated sound of disapproval and pushed the gun harder into her head and held it there for a beat while she waited with the patience of a saint. Her heart was hammering like a jackrabbit. She was taking a gamble on her life here, but a gamble was all she had left. Then the gun was gone and she was jerked to her feet by her arms none too gently. She had to grind her teeth to bite back her cry of pain that radiated from her shoulders.
They half dragged her and she half jogged to try and keep up for what felt like ages down several halls through many doors both locked and unlocked until she was helplessly confused of where she was. Suddenly she was thrown down like garbage skidding on her knees and hands on cold concrete with a grunt.
“Fuckers!” She barked.
“Kitten!” Her fathers Russian spoken word boomed through the empty space and stopped her cold. It held effect and warning all wrapped in a single word. Years of training and warnings communicated without any more contact than the sound of his voice.
The hood that had been covering her face was pulled off her head at the same time that she was pulled to her feet and a cold gun was placed at the small of her back. Her breathing was uneven, and adrenaline pumped through her veins, but her mind was clear. Blue eyes darted all around the room taking in everything around her analyzing where every person stood, which weapons were visible, exits, and safe places to hide before finally landing on her papas hard stare.
[center][img]https://img.artpal.com/873891/8-21-5-6-3-0-29m.jpg[/img]
[color=MediumPurple][h1]About Me[/h1][/color][/center]
[color=DodgerBlue]I am a female writer with 15+ years of experience in role-playing. Not to age myself, but I got my start on dial-up AOL & Yahoo Chats and Neopets. I have come a long way since I started writing back in middle school! From one-liners to novella posts, I feel like I have had a taste of a little bit of everything. However, now that I am settling into myself as a writer, I am more what people might call a lazy-lit. I still love writing three to five paragraphs of material, and when inspiration is strong I still dip back into my old novella writing.
I am the mother of two fur-babies! I love my dogs, and I am happy to send pictures when we get to talking in OOC. I never shut up about my dogs. LOL. I do have a full time job, and real life will always come first with me, but writing in my main hobby, so if I do not reply daily I do aim to reply at least every other day![/color]
[center][color=MediumPurple][h3]What you can expect from me as a role-player:[/h3][/color]
[color=DodgerBlue]° Female characters - sometimes I might play a male for the right plot.
° Daily or every other day responses Sometimes more if inspiration is strong!
° Three to Five paragraphs per post.
° Lots of OOC chat! I love creating friendships with my partners! Not to mention I enjoy discussing our story & characters. I am all about mood boards, pictures, songs, and anything else that reminds us of our story or characters.
° Collaboration on the story plot as well as characters. I will always contribute!
° Character Sheets with realistic face claims.
° Romance! I am always craving stories that revolve around romance. [With NSFW themes to be discussed farther in PMs if interested][/color][/center]
[center][color=MediumPurple][h1]Wolfie's Writing Sample[/h1][/color][/center]
[color=white]The low rumble of the engine was the only sound that kept her company in the back of the sterile cold van. She could feel the presence of at least four other men in the back with her, had purposefully jostled herself around when they had hit various pot holes or taken a sharp turn to gather as much information about her situation as possible. Though she had to give it to the damn Irishmen, they weren’t giving away much. They were careful not to press a gun to her skin, so she had no idea if she was dealing with a Glock or a M-14. They were also silent as the grave, also smart because her father had her trained in many languages.
A helpless victim her father would never let her become.
The moment they left paved roads, she could tell despite the blindfold and handcuffs. By her calculations of the time that has passed since they had grabbed her from outside her apartment, they were either at the docks or in the junkyard. Both poplar places her father likes to conduct business, or she could be wrong all together and they weren’t using her as a bargaining chip yet. The van came to a stop and the door open flooding her dark hood with a bit of light, not that it allowed her to see anything.
“Get up, lass.” One of the men that had been sitting beside her ordered.
“No.” She said simply, unflinching even when the barrel of the gun was pressed to her head. “Hah! You don’t threaten me with that, you cannot kill me. I am still too valued. Don’t look like an idiot in front of your friends, put it away!”
The man gave an irritated sound of disapproval and pushed the gun harder into her head and held it there for a beat while she waited with the patience of a saint. Her heart was hammering like a jackrabbit. She was taking a gamble on her life here, but a gamble was all she had left. Then the gun was gone and she was jerked to her feet by her arms none too gently. She had to grind her teeth to bite back her cry of pain that radiated from her shoulders.
They half dragged her and she half jogged to try and keep up for what felt like ages down several halls through many doors both locked and unlocked until she was helplessly confused of where she was. Suddenly she was thrown down like garbage skidding on her knees and hands on cold concrete with a grunt.
“Fuckers!” She barked.
“Kitten!” Her fathers Russian spoken word boomed through the empty space and stopped her cold. It held effect and warning all wrapped in a single word. Years of training and warnings communicated without any more contact than the sound of his voice.
The hood that had been covering her face was pulled off her head at the same time that she was pulled to her feet and a cold gun was placed at the small of her back. Her breathing was uneven, and adrenaline pumped through her veins, but her mind was clear. Blue eyes darted all around the room taking in everything around her analyzing where every person stood, which weapons were visible, exits, and safe places to hide before finally landing on her papas hard stare.
“Hello Papa.” She said with no emotion.
[/color]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://img.artpal.com/873891/8-21-5-6-3-0-29m.jpg" /><br><font color="mediumpurple"><div class="bb-h1">About Me</div></font></div><br><font color="dodgerblue">I am a female writer with 15+ years of experience in role-playing. Not to age myself, but I got my start on dial-up AOL & Yahoo Chats and Neopets. I have come a long way since I started writing back in middle school! From one-liners to novella posts, I feel like I have had a taste of a little bit of everything. However, now that I am settling into myself as a writer, I am more what people might call a lazy-lit. I still love writing three to five paragraphs of material, and when inspiration is strong I still dip back into my old novella writing.<br><br>I am the mother of two fur-babies! I love my dogs, and I am happy to send pictures when we get to talking in OOC. I never shut up about my dogs. LOL. I do have a full time job, and real life will always come first with me, but writing in my main hobby, so if I do not reply daily I do aim to reply at least every other day!</font><br><div class="bb-center"><font color="mediumpurple"><div class="bb-h3">What you can expect from me as a role-player:</div></font><br><font color="dodgerblue">° Female characters - sometimes I might play a male for the right plot. <br>° Daily or every other day responses Sometimes more if inspiration is strong!<br>° Three to Five paragraphs per post. <br>° Lots of OOC chat! I love creating friendships with my partners! Not to mention I enjoy discussing our story & characters. I am all about mood boards, pictures, songs, and anything else that reminds us of our story or characters.<br>° Collaboration on the story plot as well as characters. I will always contribute!<br>° Character Sheets with realistic face claims.<br>° Romance! I am always craving stories that revolve around romance. [With NSFW themes to be discussed farther in PMs if interested]</font></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><font color="mediumpurple"><div class="bb-h1">Wolfie's Writing Sample</div></font></div><br><font color="white">The low rumble of the engine was the only sound that kept her company in the back of the sterile cold van. She could feel the presence of at least four other men in the back with her, had purposefully jostled herself around when they had hit various pot holes or taken a sharp turn to gather as much information about her situation as possible. Though she had to give it to the damn Irishmen, they weren’t giving away much. They were careful not to press a gun to her skin, so she had no idea if she was dealing with a Glock or a M-14. They were also silent as the grave, also smart because her father had her trained in many languages. <br><br>A helpless victim her father would never let her become. <br><br>The moment they left paved roads, she could tell despite the blindfold and handcuffs. By her calculations of the time that has passed since they had grabbed her from outside her apartment, they were either at the docks or in the junkyard. Both poplar places her father likes to conduct business, or she could be wrong all together and they weren’t using her as a bargaining chip yet. The van came to a stop and the door open flooding her dark hood with a bit of light, not that it allowed her to see anything. <br><br>“Get up, lass.” One of the men that had been sitting beside her ordered. <br><br>“No.” She said simply, unflinching even when the barrel of the gun was pressed to her head. “Hah! You don’t threaten me with that, you cannot kill me. I am still too valued. Don’t look like an idiot in front of your friends, put it away!”<br><br>The man gave an irritated sound of disapproval and pushed the gun harder into her head and held it there for a beat while she waited with the patience of a saint. Her heart was hammering like a jackrabbit. She was taking a gamble on her life here, but a gamble was all she had left. Then the gun was gone and she was jerked to her feet by her arms none too gently. She had to grind her teeth to bite back her cry of pain that radiated from her shoulders. <br><br>They half dragged her and she half jogged to try and keep up for what felt like ages down several halls through many doors both locked and unlocked until she was helplessly confused of where she was. Suddenly she was thrown down like garbage skidding on her knees and hands on cold concrete with a grunt. <br><br>“Fuckers!” She barked. <br><br>“Kitten!” Her fathers Russian spoken word boomed through the empty space and stopped her cold. It held effect and warning all wrapped in a single word. Years of training and warnings communicated without any more contact than the sound of his voice. <br><br>The hood that had been covering her face was pulled off her head at the same time that she was pulled to her feet and a cold gun was placed at the small of her back. Her breathing was uneven, and adrenaline pumped through her veins, but her mind was clear. Blue eyes darted all around the room taking in everything around her analyzing where every person stood, which weapons were visible, exits, and safe places to hide before finally landing on her papas hard stare. <br><br>“Hello Papa.” She said with no emotion.</font><br></div>