What's new
  • If your recruitment thread involves completely going off site with your partner(s) then it belongs in the Off-Site Ad Area.
  • This area of the site is governed by the official Recruitment rules. Whether you are looking for players or looking for a roleplay, we recommend you read them and familiarize your self with them. Read the Recruitment Rules Here.

Multiple Settings Searching™ (Monsters, witches, lowlives, M//, F//)

Sub Genres
Horror, LGTBQ, Magical, Realistic, Romance, Slice of Life, Supernatural

Melchrome

Always Searching
Hey there,

■ I'm Mel.

■ Been roleplaying for 15 years now.

■ I'm 27.

■ I live in the states and my time zone is Eastern.

■ Looking for as many roleplays as I can carry


Guidelines and such...


.I prefer if you are at least 24 when contacting me, I feel weird otherwise. Also, sorry, but I am only looking to write with other women, no men. It's what I'm comfortable with.

.PM me to roleplay, I most likely won't be checking this board and still getting a feel for this website.

.I won't tell you how much to write since for me it's always varied on scenes, intros or how much dialogue there is per reply, but I will say I tend to write on the longer side of things, can be an intro of 2,000 words or a reply of three paragraphs, it all depends. Obviously, I'm looking for someone who enjoys writing, so if writing more than a paragraph is a chore, I don't think we'll be compatible.

.You can expect a reply at least once daily (or more), however I have no problem waiting for replies as I know life can get in the way sometimes.

Generally, I mainly play m// pairings, but I also play m/f or f// for certain roleplays-I'm changing how I normally feel about mxf because I am going to trust that you are going to be able to write decent, well-rounded characters of all genders and sexualities. But I do have preference for m//.

.Characters outside our "mains" can be whatever we want, but I don't believe in "doubling" because I don't believe in writing a man or a woman just so they're paired off with your character so things are "fair". The drive for our characters' entire purpose shouldn't be a relationship. It's an added bonus, but honestly sometimes two characters hating each other is more fun than two characters banging.

.I love writing additional characters and usually my roleplays develop into a whole cast of different characters that bleed into each other's lives. A story can't exist with just two characters and no one else.

.When it comes to genders, age groups and all that, I will be straight to the point: I play all genders, (mostly) all age groups and walks of life. We will not be compatible if you feel the need to only be a woman/man, teen/young adult, or believe if he/she is gay/straight they must act a certain way.

.To reiterate: a character's sexuality does not define them. My characters are strong men and women and they're not looking to babysit or coddle your character. I'm looking for power struggles and people in it for themselves who have aspirations beyond whoever they're in a relationship with.

.Moving on, I prefer original roleplays--I'm not into fandoms. However, if you'd like to take inspiration from a game, show, book, etc. then by all means we can work something out, but other than that I prefer our characters and story lines to be something we created.

. For romance, of any orientation, I enjoy any mix of love, love-hate, toxic relationships, polyamorous relationships, etc. It depends what makes sense for the characters and settings, but I will be honest that I am less interested in perfect, happy relationships or teenage/cliché relationship drama. q

.I like the darker side of roleplaying, either high-class society with skeletons in their closets, occults that practice dark magic, or even low-life scum and what they have to do to survive. I play all sorts of different genres, but I really prefer deglamorized and gritty settings and our characters in the moral grey area.

. I have a sample for you below, when contacting me please have some samples, a search thread, or something I can look at to gauge our compatibility in regards to writing style.

. I would like for you to introduce yourself instead of just asking for a roleplay, I think we should know each other a bit.



Cravings/ideas...
Stuff I like. We can pick some stuff out the word bank below and throw something together, or go by the ideas I list below, some of them are fleshed out plots and some are just as you read them, and we can work on them together.

Sorta Ideas...

.Broke latchkey teenagers forming a type of family together. Maybe some time has passed and those kids are now men and brought back together again.

.Monsters. Ugly, nasty monsters because they're fun. Ghouls, twisted and not-so-pretty vampires, satyrs, and more. (Usually into having a character that came across one of these nasties years ago and they form a toxic, but codependent relationship).

.Gritty, deglamorized life in a small-time gang (pack of guys only depending on each other, biker gang in the desert, or foot soldiers in a street gang-no mafias, though).

.Two old flames reunited who are no good for each other, but worse with anyone else. Probably sophisticated older men who have something to lose by crossing paths again, yet risk it anyway.

.Witches, but magic isn't glamorous nor can they control the weather like they're Storm. Witches that pay for their abilities by losing parts of themselves mentally and physically. (Basically, magic has an extreme price and I'm thinking we play some male witches that are the type of people who willingly pay the price).

.Modern settings. I'm slightly over settings in the swamp or small, isolated towns-not that I won't be interested, but I wouldn't mind something in a city. Halfway home turned roommates in own apartment, corner store coffees, subways, and gritty city streets are what come to mind and we can build from there.


.The Company.

My modern royalty and medieval fantasy-inspired plot, where The Company is the kingdom and the reigning monarchy is the family that founded the company generations back. The old CEO has died, and his son/nephew who has been groomed for succession his entire life has taken his place. In this “world”, this large corporate empire gets a lot of attention; coverage by the news, tabloids show pictures of board members’ lingering looks and encourage rumors about infidelity and corporate espionage. All of it is true. This plot would circle around the newly appointed CEO (30+ years old, my character, and is unstable to say the least) and his father/uncle’s right-hand man who is a large shareholder in the company and may want to usurp the current “king”, or help him with the pit of vipers he finds himself in. Owning the company is like taking the throne and all the power, wealth and influence it entails.

Includes corporate espionage, infidelity, fancy soirees where someone might be murdered, and everyone’s a liar.

.What's your idea?


Word bank

Love/hate. Old world settings. Silver-hair foxes. Youths running in the streets. Sophisticated older (wo)men. Straight up monsters. Murder. Trailer parks. Country living. Witchcraft. Witches. Brotherly relationships. Childhood friends. Wannabe gangsters. Ugly men/women (not everybody a model). Savages. Villains. Old flames reunited. Spontaneously marrying a stranger. Polyamorous relationships. Occult. Cults. Dangerous obsession. Creepy faes. Satyrs. Addiction. Mountain folk. Cannibalistic mountain folk. Old family feuds sans the Romeo and Juliet. Monstrous vampires.

Intro sample
A witch gifted unusual power finds himself indentured to a demon in the bayou following the murder of his sister and wife by his own coven.)

The bright blaze was blinding, the smoke strung his eyes, but he kept looking ahead and watched the fires grow: stretching home-to-home, swallowing men and women alike. They’d turn to ash-their children, their legacies would be scattered by the wind and find no rest, as they had done to his blood. Screams filled his ears, the heat of the flames drew closer to the outsider watching it consume and still he stood in place, witnessing the only justice to befall his cursed home. He could stay there until the flames grabbed onto him, engulfed him and nothing left of their great coven but dust and ash.

But he felt then he was no longer alone, there was someone beside him, and suddenly he was afraid to look away from the flames-if he did, he’d know it was all just a dream, and he would wake from it to be alone.

He felt a hand take his: warm, solid, and alive as it was the last time Draven could touch her. He knew she was standing beside him, and even if looking back would turn her into salt, he did, and saw how her brown eyes were replaced with yellow, flickering flames-reflecting the inferno that was coming for them. He didn’t look away from her, even when the smoke filled his throat, while her gaze stayed with the fire, unafraid.

-

The marsh was ancient, its roots deeper than any Christian god or man’s civilization. There was a raw power in its mud and in the heavy air that clung to the inside of his throat, he felt the greenery beneath his feet throb like a living thing and it resonated with the beating of his own heart. He was bred and born in that land, beneath the black canopy of the trees, and since a child he would bathe and float in the brown water of the bog, feeling the power of his ancestors that were buried in the black mud, their bodies enriching the land. The marsh was a living, carnivorous thing Draven believed, while walking down the path that was choked with roots like reaching fingers, he knew its welcome of him was a hunger to pull him down into the dirt and let his rot ripen the earth. Far from the safety of his coven’s land, he was now treading on the heart of the bog where the rot and rebirth overlapped another and made for a sickly air with no respite, and yet he continued further into the trees that smelled more of man than earth.

He thought of his grandmother as a young woman, the courage or desperation she must have had to cross over into the land of beasts and fae with no promise to be received, or unharmed. Draven was not so courageous or desperate, what motivated him to enter where no witch dared was his own survival, and his assurance to be unharmed was only if he returned with what was promised. There was something lurking, he could see it from the furthest corner of his eye and knew if he turned to face it, it would be gone, and he cursed his grandmother for leaving the burden of her sins for him alone to answer. What was promised was held in his fist and wrapped in linen, its smell as acrid as the rot he waded through, its severed end from where Draven tore it from the ground wept yellow milk that burned his hands, but only another small discomfort added to a mountingly unpleasant day. The way he travelled was with no familiarity of the land, he simply pushed forward and never knew where the creature might appear-he was more concerned with stumbling onto Daggermaw than getting lost in his land-there was no point in trying to understand a fae’s territory, it twisted and reshaped itself as a living thing and only those permitted found their way and back again.

His bare feet sunk into the soft, sodden ground and the water that rose from underneath was the color of rust, and he could not say why, but he felt he was close. The soft earth sloughed off and gave way to the reddish water that came up to his waist, and Draven pressed forward, until he came across that malformed tree and the fae perched in its branches. He had seen all matters of beasts, he had eaten the meat of satyrs and ghouls alike and seen the likeness of ents scrawled in their books, and yet he had never seen a fae, only heard the stories from their survivors on their deathbeds, and it did Daggermaw no justice.

It spoke, and Draven realized it wasn’t only Damara that had appeared in his dream, and that which had been a dream he would have cherished was not soiled by the creature’s presence in it. The root was tossed carelessly, hitting the base of the “tree”-Draven did not care to look at it too closely-and laid unraveled, still bleeding its corrosive yellow milk.

“It was,” he said, no anger or remorse in his voice but his eyes unfocused, looking within and how he had seen her last in his dream; they burned together, but she showed no suffering, wearing a halo of fire that then engulfed her. If only she had died so proud and beautiful, and not in agony, and with so much blood. “You have your root, Dag. And my dreams as well, apparently. I would be asking you not to invoke my sister’s memory, but you fae seem pleased by a man’s suffering, so I’m asking what more you’re to want of me? A root don’t exactly begin to pay my blood’s debt.”
 
Last edited:

Users Who Are Viewing This Thread (Users: 0, Guests: 1)

Top