What I like:
+ Feral* roleplays! I've done a lot of animal roleplays in the past, mainly canines. However, I'll be willing to do any kind of animal (e.g. horses, felines, etc.) — semi-realistically, of course.
+ Human roleplays! While I'm kind of rusty with humans, I'm kinda getting the feel for them again and would totally be down to try these out again!

*as in, four-legged animal dog go bark woof

What I'm iffy on:
- Fantasy/Mystical/Magical/Supernatural roleplays. They're not bad, I've done them before, but I'm not actively hunting down these types of roleplays. Though, if you have a good concept (not just random magic or *heals no miss*) then perhaps I can be persuaded... -- this mainly applies to humans bc I'll 10/10 rp a dragon or somethin'. Sometimes I feel like they're kinda boring tho.

Wonts
x A/B/O or other 18+ things Please...keep that away from me...
x Overly-futuristic or techy roleplays. Idk I've just never vibed with the overly-technically advanced stuff. The rp can have technology, don't get me wrong, but if we got lasers, then idk.
x Certain tropes: Stuff like non-con/forced marriages, genderbends, SCHOOL AUs (please I already go to school who wants to rp a cringier version) or slice of life, time travel, cross-overs (if fandom)
x BABIES No...no pregnancy, no children in any way besides the disposable, rarely seen, side character if need be.
x Furries. I don't hate furries — and don't give me that look I know I said I did animal roleplays — I'd just rather not because I don't have experience with them (but shifters are ok ig)
x Roleplays that are only about romance. Sure, it can happen, but where's the spice - the underlying motive to do something and move along? Also romance that goes too fast is a no. Slowburn, take it or leave it.
- Fandom roleplays. I don't know if I'd like to rp as one of the show/movie/book's characters because I don't want to get them wrong, ya know?

Please be sure to ask if you aren't sure about something!

When she had left the camp that day, Grace never expected this. Before her stood a badger, its head striped and its muzzle pushed back in a scowl as it threatened her. It was much smaller than her yet the way it squared off made the delicate wolf nervous. She didn't want to fight, it had only been an accident. She had already tried pleading so to the animal but it hardly understood. All it knew was that she was the one that stepped on the entrance of its den. Grace found herself partly frozen, rooted to her spot and only moving about to try to avoid the small surges the badger made to nip at her legs in a bluff. If she tried to run it would surely follow her and she really didn't want to resort to a chase, or hitting the creature.

Grace's reason for leaving that day was simple: she was tasked to grab more herbs for the pack. They needed more mint and goldenrod....and cobwebs. The dame had repressed a sigh at the order. She hated gathering cobwebs. It wasn't because of the spiders, she reminded herself pointedly, it was because of the way they wrapped around her paw or whatever else she used and how they often broke, leaving her to come back with something pitiful. Grace found herself quite useless in times like these. No one openly chastised her for it, but she knew what they were thinking behind their eyes.

The longer she stood there with the badger the longer she began to think they were right. It wasn't that she couldn't fight the badger, she just didn't want to hurt it over something that was her fault. Grace tried to convince herself of the idea but it didn't stick well when the animal charged for her ankles again, just desperate to get her to leave. Letting out a shrill wail she swatted a ill-planned paw at the creature which earned a snap in return. Recoiling as if she had been stung Grace only hoped it would get bored, or someone would come along to distract it.

CW fore gore!

Furious screams ripped from the throats of the Viotto wolves. They broke the crisp winter air like gunshots, each more strained than the last.

He knew they shouldn't have come here.

And yet it had been a necessity. His mother was sick and the care she needed didn't exist in the murky undergrowth of the swamp or the thick weeds of the river. It was here, in a place that proved to be nothing more than one headache after another, in Viotto. Orpheus had been loathe to even make the decision, but they were his only choice. On nervous paws, he had brought Muerte to the pack wolves to plead for their help. Only time could tell if their work would succeed.

But if there was one thing Orpheus knew, it was that the incessant yelling would not help his mother rest. With a resigned snort, the black wolf rose like many others to seek out the commotion. Everything was less noisy in the swamp--everything was easier at home without wolves at each other's throats. It was just he and his mother, no one else. Orpheus had become more worrisome, more alert since his arrival. He needed to make sure they took care of her right...whatever that could mean.

"I'll kill you, Nikolai, I'll kill you!"

Orpheus had strode down to the scene, trailing behind a blue female. As they neared his ears caught the vicious words. "What the hell..." Orpheus muttered, voice tense with the ominous air hanging above the pack wolves. Sweeping his eyes around the scene he saw the bleak faces of the onlookers. Many were stressed, some exhausted, some crying and burying their faces away from the sight.

That's when he saw it. Before them, all was a wolf trapped in Linan's jaws. Though, trapped was not nearly the right word. They were at the mercy of the medic. Blood slicked the snow in a lurid, nauseating way. The medic rose like a bear and smashed the wolf's muzzle into the snow. Orpheus cringed. What was happening to this pack? Anger brewed underneath his shock. We should have never come here, his mind repeated once more.

Augustus—yes, where was that damned wolf? Orpheus would skirt the edges of the crowd, concerned eyes scanning every detail. Now another was pinned. His eyes jumped. She struggled, but no blow came to her. She shouted, a heinous venom on her tongue. Her mouth foamed. Traitor—demon. Orpheus scowled. What the fuck was happening?

As their leaders gathered, Orpheus pushed on. Soon, he rounded on the sled. Upon it sat the tattered, drowned body of a blue wolf. "H-Horus?" Orpheus began, struggling to remember the wolf's name. What had that frog-eater gotten into?

There was some relief as he looked around. Only a few familiar pelts from the cave-in came into view. Moirah's bright, familiar pelt stood out against the snow, yet she was surrounded by strangers. One he recognized as Camellia...or was it Thebe? The other he didn't. Orpheus stared, his eyes darkening in thought for the briefest of moments. He wasn't sure if he should ask what had happened. The pieces fit together easily enough. That bastard must have killed Horus. Whether he had deserved it or not, Orpheus couldn't say. Instead, his eyes turned from the mourning wolves to the sled where Horus rested. Sobs racked those around him, shaking them in their anger and grief, and yet...Orpheus felt nothing. He didn't know Horus as they did. Orpheus knew him as little more than a wolf that talked too big for his own good—a wolf that had eaten a clutch of frog eggs that had been for his mother, but to them, he was more.

Orpheus frowned sullenly and turned his head to Thebe as she approached Horus, lamenting, desperate to move him. "I never knew him as more than a trespasser," Orpheus began with a sigh, echoing his thoughts aloud, "But...I can offer to help you take him where he deserves to rest. If you allow me, of course."

Caw!

With dark feathers and beady black eyes, a small raven floated in the wind above the town. Its head cocked side to side as the noise of the small town bellow reached its ears. Tilting forward, the blackbird descended quickly, stretching out its wings as it found a suitable perch on a chimney.

Below there were the sounds of yelling and shouting as men gathered around in a tight circle. In the center, two of them stood, each squaring off with their opponent. Panting heavily one swiped the stream of blood from their lip, hoping to catch a break as the fight stalled for a brief moment. Then gathering enough energy to shoot a punch forward, the crowd roared as he connected with the other fighter. After a few more punches were thrown in quick succession to the other man's torso, the first found his opponent on the ground, signaling the end of the fight. The watchers erupted in a chorus of shouts both negative and positive before mainly dispersing in wait for the next brawl.

"Now gentlemen," A younger man piped up, facing a group of betters from where he sat in an old, small table. "Fairs fair. Pay up." With reluctant grumbles most would set their pence on the table, but a certain disgruntled man stood firm. "I will not. Something was clearly wrong with that fight!" Frowning, the man at the table squinted. "What? The boy won fair and square! Didn't you see? You've lost. Just because he's beat someone bigger than him doesn't mean he's cheated." He scoffed, looking up at the older man. They shook their head and crossed their arms. "No! He-he must have cheated!" Fed up, the bookie rose out of his chair and prowled around the table. Raising a hand he pushed a finger into the man in front of him's shoulder. "You lost your bet, now pay up unless you want to be in the ring next with me ." He growled, leaning into the previously protesting man's face. In a quick motion, he felt the coins drop into his hand before the man stumbled away. Scoffing, the seat at the table was filled once more and the coins had been scooped into his hand. Leaning back to place his feet on the wooden table, the temporary bookie counted them smugly.

He was a youthful man, 25, and had short brown hair. Blue eyes peered at the coins in his rough hands as he counted them. 180 pence sat in his palm. Nothing terrible. Tossing the change a bit in his hand the coins were promptly dropped into a small bag he carried underneath his coat. The next fight would begin soon enough, and he could expect more watchers would make their impulsive bids as they had done from the start of the day.