Welcome Guest. Please Login or Register. May 22, 2013, 11:51am
This forum is dedicated to free form, text-based role playing. It is meant to be a place to share and store the stories of your characters. It isn't a massive assembly of logs, just a small collection of ink.
Kaylen Somewhat Respectable Poster member is offline
If you love life don't waste time, for time is what life is made of.
Joined: Aug 2011 Gender: Female Posts: 32 Karma: 5
Re: There's No Place Like Home « Result #1 on May 5, 2013, 1:08pm »
A tote sack would fit better than the massive, balloon of a dress. What size was this woman anyway? Worse yet, Jamie's option was too small. "You are going to wear pants though, right. Cause I will stare if you don't. Gotta be honest. You know this reminds me of? What's that nursery rhyme? Jack Sprat or something?" The wife was huge and hubby was a twig.
Kaylen couldn't help but whine. "I look like a marshmallow. Ten kids could hide under here." Trying to make the poofy bottom lay flat. Was not going to happen. Luckily, there was a realization that looks didn't matter so much as not getting caught. Finally stepping out from the bushes to peer over at the duds he'd managed. Eyes widening a touch. "Nice pecs you got there." Any breathing women around would be gawking..cause she was gawking. You can blink now. Went the inward dialogue in her head. Was going to be an interesting trip. "Yeah, anyway..set, I'm all set." Making the decision to look at anything but him.
"I guess they don't take American dollars here. Local money might be useful." Eyeing the house a moment. "Doesn't look like anyone's around. Let's peek in the windows. Hopefully there's no dogs to wake up the whole town." She had to gather up the extra yards of material just to walk over toward the house. Was then an idea came to mind.
"Why don't I gather the laundry while you snoop? Make things look normal to anyone passing by. If we're slinking around the windows, people might start to question what we're up to. No one in their right mind enjoys housework."
BDSM - Christian Grey « Result #2 on May 5, 2013, 12:29pm »
(Reposted from my livejournal, upon request.)
BDSM - Christian GreyMay 5th, 11:44 Current Location:United StatesCurrent Mood: confusedCurrent Music:I Write Sins, Not Tragedies Let me start off with the disclaimer that I am not part of the BDSM community. I do know a few that are, but this in no way makes me an expert on such things. I've read the book Fifty Shades of Grey and wanted to post my thoughts and feelings on the subject.
I've seen the umbrage over this series of books, from the BDSM community, mostly. The only thing I truly agree with them is that being abused/neglected/abandoned/molested as a child does not make a Dom and/or sub. It has been said by people within the community that "no! It does not happen here!" And "Oh, yes it does!" That is their fight. I'm not here to take issue with that, either.
The lack of writing skill - yeah, I've seen better and worse. It took a bit getting used to, but as an aspiring writer, I'm not going to knock somebody who actually tries. They must have done something right, they're published and I only dream about it.
What I wanted to take issue with is in defense of Christian Grey, himself. Before he met Ana, he was a terrible, terrible Dom. His stalking and manipulating to get Ana, before he really knew her, was completely unacceptable. But, once he did get to know her, began to really care about her, he'd changed. Sure, he still was a control freak. But he didn't deny her the relationships with her friends and family. He didn't deny her the freedom to work. And he didn't do anything after sleeping (actual sleeping, not the sex in bed) that wasn't consensual. Ana agreed to try his way of doing things. She may not have signed the contract, but she did read it, did understand it, and had even questioned him about it before agreeing. She even added her own addendums and corrections before she agreed. A verbal agreement is as good as a signed one. And when things got to be too much, she left. And, as proven later in the book, if she had safe-worded during the belt spanking scene, it probably wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. I know, this screams of blaming the victim, but I can't help but argue that Ana, while naive and too inexperienced, wasn't a victim.
There's been a lot said about contracts. If this isn't a common practice, I think it should be. It defines that specific part of a couple's relationship that, in the moment, can totally unravel any other part of the relationship; whether it be loving, a friendship, whatever. If it's done correctly and the couple do earnestly discuss and determine what they will and won't do, and they each respect and hold to those agreements, I don't see why a contract wouldn't be utilized. It just made sense to me.
I don't know. Once I got accustomed to the author's story telling style, I settled in and enjoyed the book. It was very similar to what I've become accustomed to reading on a site that I actively participate in online free form role playing. It was predictable, it made me laugh, it brought tears of sadness, it invoked an emotional response.
Isn't that what reading's supposed to be about, anyway?
Joined: Jan 2011 Gender: Male Posts: 23 Location: Rhydin & Point Thornridge Karma: 4
Re: There's No Place Like Home « Result #4 on May 5, 2013, 9:40am »
"Huh?" He was trying to give her privacy by keeping his back to her. As he took off his shirt and put it on, well, it was a little tight. When he turned to look at her, like an oversized ghost, he laughed. He pulled at the end of his shirt and looked back to her, "I think she had a son on something. There is no way that I'm wearing his pants." Leas the rip in the bottom, or crush a part of him he'd very much rather remain in tact. He rubbed his hands together, sized up the building and then looked back at her.
She was able to pull it together with the belt and looked, well, different. He took the tight shirt off and tried another, which ended up looking... all right on him. It was still tight but at least he didn't look like he had robbed someone of their clothes this way. His pants...he thought he could get away with. If he didn't know to look he would not have noticed her's. For his bag he simply wrapped it up in a bed sheet and then nodded to her with a smile, "I'm set, how about you?"
Where was everyone? It felt quiet. He looked at the ground and then back to Kayla, not sure if he should ask the question, "Should we check the house for money... or maybe some food?"
Someone could be just sleeping in there, after all. Were they pressing their luck too much?
You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you... That's where I'll be waiting. ~Peter Pan
Joined: Dec 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 72 Location: Point Thornridge Karma: 1
Re: The Man that was a Bookmark « Result #5 on May 5, 2013, 9:22am »
He was wiping off his glasses on his shirt, adjusting them the correct distance on his nose and peering out the window with the broken-teeth to see that Lucy had, well, she had made it after all. It was like an old man trying to read a very large storefront sign.
"Good...good." He muttered to himself, though it didn't sound like he was sure that it was good at all. Good that she fell okay or good that she made it? Or good that they were somehow getting tangled up together. Knots were terrible things, he'd sooner just buy new shoelaces than to try to get them cleared up again. He was the only shoelace he had, though, so there wasn't much to be done to replace it. He would have to pick at the knot and work it out slowly. Maybe if he put it in his mouth and yanked at one of the shoelaces that way it would come undone.
"Couch?" He spoke like he hadn't heard the word before. He threw his bag out the window and then tried to lower himself down. His feet were pressed to the brick side of the building and between his spread legs he saw Emily's face. Great. She must be relishing the whole couch. Though most people sort of edged away from the commotion, there were a few that still stared on with partly gaped mouths. One woman spoke to her street mate Is he really gonna do tha? How does someone vocalize an additional L and Y to the end of his name? She was the first he heard ever pull it off without going into a cycle of stammering slurs. Shoot. Well. He looked back up to the window, exhaled and then made his drop. He thought he would feel like he was falling forever but the landing came quickly.
Mostly. On. The. Couch.
"Damn." He rubbed his tailbone where he had landed on one of the supportive boards of the couch, which had groaned as if swung at by a bat. Lyall looked at her a bit tightly, "Where are we going from here? Hmmm... I have to get to that Ms. Lauren person. You said Sherlock's...Sherman's...Oh! Sherlow's opens at eight? What time is it?" How much sleep had they really gotten? Was the sun still walking around the world or was it on its way back to morning? Lyall stood up, grabbing at her for support when he did. One had rubbed his tailbone which was all right now but would be a bitter thing the next day. Atleast it wasn't broken. He leaned down to grab his bag and looked about himself, taking a few steps which had a slight limp to them on account of his, er, couch incident. Atleast it explained why no one wanted the couch anymore.
"I suppose we better get going somewhere before we're found again," At this point he was peering at her for answers. This was her city, right? Lead the way!
Fable Moderator Preserver of the Site member is offline
Joined: Nov 2011 Gender: Female Posts: 58 Karma: 3
Re: Anyone Still Wanting to Play « Result #6 on Mar 11, 2013, 3:04pm »
Hi Kaylen, I'm sorry for my absense, i've some rl issues going on atm.. (father is extremely sick). And as far as i know Cies has been working to death in rl too..
That being said, your more than welcome to start a post on the Apocolypse thread, or join the Church of Incantation one.. last we looked Thalas and Nexie where making their way through the gauntlet of destruction (and death) in an attempt to reach the comparative safety of the outskirts of the city..
If you need an idea for a character, there is the race thread that can help..
Re: Picking Up the Pieces « Result #8 on Jan 28, 2013, 11:00pm »
"Maybe," He surrendered with a small shrug. When he decided upon something he didn't much waver on what the consequences would be. Certainly some would pass snide remarks that they "knew" it, even though they scarcely had more than a passing conversation with him. Others would smile as though genuinely happy, perhaps thinking that his relationship with Jessie explained something about him. Others would find it a fault that they could sink their claws into. Overall, though, the real threat was his father. In a world of editors are artists, art dealers (even if they were dirty), alternative lifestyles weren't unusual. His father, a raw lion among men, hadn't allowed for his son to be perceived as anything other than a calculating dealer. The thought of Jacob being a lover to anyone hadn't been widely spoken of even if he was appealing to look at. He was a nice vase. His shattered, stain glass eyes followed Jessie's fork conducting the conversation, "At least the staff, anyway."
Jessie was never one who really cared about what others thought. He only recently became guarded and that was to protect Jacob from incriminating photos and waggling tongues. Most that knew Jessie, even in passing, knew or assumed that he was gay. He didn't talk funny, dress any differently, but people seemed to know. It was a surprise to him that the elder Hutchenson didn't know. Perhaps he did, but chose to ignore it. Either way, Jessie sighed when Jacob gave no clue as to which direction he wanted to go. Jessie put down his fork and rested his hand upon the table. If Jacob wanted to make a public show of display, all he had to do was reach across and laid his hand upon Jessie's. Jessie looked up and into Jacob's face, questioningly.
Jacob was, initially, oblivious to what it was that Jessie was saying when he dropped his hand to the table. Sometimes people did that in conversation. But when it just stayed there, like a statement on the tablecloth, he blinked and reached over, his hand on the outside of Jessie's, and his fingertips touched down on the skin at the back of his wrist, "What is it?" As if he had to verbalize the sigh.
To Jessie, the bustling restaurant had become quiet, as if every customer and waiter were holding their breath to see what Jacob would do. So when Jacob touched Jessie's wrist, it seemed as if time started again and people went about their lives, regardless of what was happening at table 16. Jessie smiled, letting out the breath he held. Turning his hand over, he curled his fingers around Jacob's palm and gave a gentle squeeze. "Love you," he whispered a flush to his face and the tips of his ears.
Jacob lived in a surreal sort of world. What would it have been like if he moved across the coast and no one knew who he was and could have cared less? Was he so use to prying eyes and expectation that he would miss it... and feel at a loss without it? Generally, he took the attention for granted. When Jessie whispered to him, Jacob smiled and his eyebrows lowered when he did. He dared the question, "Why?"
That was a question Jessie had never asked himself. It seemed obvious to him that Jacob was a lovable kind of guy, so the question threw him off guard. He canted his head and laughed in his confusion. There were several reasons why, and to pick just one seemed unfair to the others. So, instead, Jessie took another route. Not letting go of Jacob's hand, his smile grinned. "It's bad luck to question a miracle, Jacob."
"Oh?" But the answer wasn't satisfying. Jessie, if anyone, would know what a satisfied look on his face was when he saw it. Instead it was the look for someone who had just had their eyes covered and been fed something they were suppose to correctly guess. He was waiting. Were Jessie going to deflect and he allowed it or offer up more?
Oh yes, Jessie knew that look very well. He sighed and let his back sag just a bit. "Jacob, there are a hundred reasons. You're kind, sexy, level headed, great in bed, you know everything to know about me and you're still here. I don't have one answer. I'm sorry, but I don't. I couldn't list them all in one sitting because it's not just the big things, but the small ones, too. And you listen." Jessie gave Jacob a hopeful look, not really satisfied with his own answer, but he wasn't very good at verbalizing how he felt. He was more tactile, more loving in his touching and caresses than his words.
"I suppose everyone feels this way at some point," he admitted without much yelling or dramatic flair. The fingers of this other hand adjusted the foot of his drink along the tablecloth, "It is easy to feel that you are not unique, that someone else with qualities somewhat comparable to your own would take the affections of someone dear to you away." His attention had been off somewhere, but now it was on Jessie's eyes, "I have thought that if you were not so damaged that I would not seem so wonderful."
It took all the strength he had in himself not to jerk his hand away. Perhaps this was a test, to see if Jessie still was the scared, vulnerable and sensitive guy he'd been when they had first met. Still, the hurt couldn't be hidden from his eyes. "I'd never do that to you," he breathed out. Jessie's face was turning redder. He could feel his heart rate climb with his blood pressure. "And would I be such a charity case if you weren't so perfect?" He hadn't meant for that to come out, it was the hurt that had caused it. Jessie shut his mouth tightly and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Jacob's face.
"I hadn't thought I was perfect." Attractive, Jacob had known he was attractive. Jessie couldn't be so blind as to not know he was as well. It was mostly in how the world responded to them. His eyebrows went up slightly, seeing Jessie had been bruised, "It was only a question, love, not an inquisition." Perhaps there had been some accusation under it, but he wouldn't even admit that to himself. (Taken from live play! *Squee!!*)
Re: Picking Up the Pieces « Result #9 on Oct 1, 2012, 5:29pm »
Jessie would never presume or excpect Jacob to buy him a new suit, much less a tuxedo. But, he wouldn't turn down and wasn't surprised when the offer was made. He'd learned to accept Jacob's generosity. He wasn't surprised, but was always appreciative of the things Jacob gave. Even the smallest of tokens was appreciated and treated as if he'd been given the most precious thing ever to be made.
"Hungry," Jessie confirmed, taking Jacob's hand. The afternoon was spent at Jacob's tailor, with both of them being fitted for matching tuxedos, right down to the silk bow ties, cuff links and abalone button fobs. It was later that they finally sat down to dinner at one of Jacob's favorite restaurants. It'd become one of Jessie's, too. They'd been there enough times that the staff had wagers on whether the pair were a couple. There had never been any longing looks, hand holding or anything other than the typical business lunch or dinner. However, the wait staff still had placed bets on whether or not Mr. Hutchenson and Mr. Angelico were secretly doing the horizontal bop. The bet was up to 350 in gold that they were.
Jessie stabbed a flowerette of broccoli and dipped it into some ranch dressing before popping it into his mouth. He crunched with a thoughtful look upon his face. He wasn't looking at Jacob, instead up at the ceiling in a dreamy sort of way. His fork was pointed upright, but not rigidly, and it waved to and fro for a moment before Jessie brought his gaze back down to Jacob. "I don't know," he murmured, loud enough for Jacob's ears alone. "Maybe we should start early, get a practice run in." He glanced around the restaurant, as if to gauge the safety of public display of affection. "Not anybody here who will be at the party, is there?"
Just the thought of being public with Jacob, able to hold his hand as they walked down the street together, made Jessie flush with excitement and his eyes never once stopped dancing with joy. It'd been a long time in coming and Jessie couldn't wait. He didn't think about the negative implications such a move could have. Love was love. Right?
Kaylen Somewhat Respectable Poster member is offline
If you love life don't waste time, for time is what life is made of.
Joined: Aug 2011 Gender: Female Posts: 32 Karma: 5
Re: There's No Place Like Home « Result #10 on Sept 25, 2012, 9:18am »
She felt like James Bond, sneaking around the area trying to keep out of sight yet get the job done. The first job being obtaining better clothes. The next job she still wasn't sure of. Depended mainly on Jamie to direct the work from there.
As they approached the seemingly, empty house, Kaylen peered around some bushes at the choices available. "Best option we got." Though the clothes were hardly to her liking. Oh well. Beggars can't be choosers. In this case, stealers can't be choosers. She joined him by the tree watching the landscape around them for any signs of people. When the coast was clear, she'd be the first to head towards the clothesline.
"This lady must be huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge." Both arms spreading out a plain, gray dress which was at least four sizes too large. "We could use this for a parachute." Time being of the essences, she really shouldn't be so damn picky. None of the other garments were going to be any smaller. The dress was snatched after a huge sigh of indignation. Sure, Kaylen may not have much of a figure in the first place but this was only going to add insult to injury.
"What did you find?" Scurrying back to the relative shelter of the tree to hop into the dress. It was large enough to hide her jeans so those were kept on for now. Her belt served nicely to wrap the outfit so it was more appealing yet still nothing to write home about. Only then was the t-shirt removed from beneath. All without showing the least bit of skin.
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