Semi-Literate+ RPers Club [DEAD;NEW LINK IN FIRST POST]

[ｏｄｄ...]

Username: My username is ｏｄｄ....
Favorite type of RP: My favorite type of role play is literate horse, and rider role plays.
Sample of writing:

{Annah, A Bit of Blitz, and Leon Mortecai Wayne are accepted. .Imagination., Air Oblivion, and Ellie Arabella Hart are accepted, as long as you fill your skeletons while you are role playing. Rainbow.freeze, Nicole Drew Andrews is accepted, as long as you fill your skeletons while you are role playing.}



As Catarina awoke, she squinted her brown colored eyes. As if the force of a flood broke a window, and floodwater was pouring into the house the window was placed into, fresh country oxygen, pollen, and sunlight poured into her room. As her brown colored eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she stretched, her knuckles brushing against her bed's headboard. As she yawned, she covered her mouth.

For some strange reason, she had always despised the unpleasant sight of people yawning. She swung her her legs over her bed's side. She leapt off of her bed. She shuffled towards her bathroom.

As she opened her bathroom's door, she flickered its lights on quickly. She had always been a bit scared of darkness. She began brushing her red colored hair. Unlike many girls, her hair easy to maintain.

She grasped the hangers that she hung her distressed skinny jeans, her Lace Shirttail Hem Tank Top, and her Racerback Tank Top onto. She clothed herself. She squeezed mint flavored toothpaste onto her toothbrush, and began brushing her teeth. After she brushed her teeth for around three minutes, she spat her mint flavored toothpaste into the sink, creating an unpleasant blend of mint flavored toothpaste, and sink water.

She flossed her teeth. As she flickered her bathroom's lights off, she closed her bathroom's door quickly. She smoothed her outfit with her hands. She thought, Today is a beautiful day.

Any semi-lit/lit RPs you have: I own a role play named Touch of Class Farm | A Literate Invitation Only Role Play.

[xl Toxic lx]

One more plot for you people ouo
Lil' pet, lil' pet, lil' pet sitting there. "Ha" you mutter to yourself, looking back at the apartment your owner lived in. Although a bit of bubblegum pink paint is peeling from the walls, the place looked good enough to live in, and it looks good enough now. But really? Did you really want to stay there, where you where the underpet and that other stupid little animal was pampered to the maximum once brought home two weeks ago? You hiss to yourself and turn around only to see a group of other pets staring at you. Little beady eyed parrots, nonsense tough bulldogs, silent black cats and the occasional exotic snake. Everyone is staring at you. "Ya tough 'nough to join 's? Escaped, have ya? Ah wel, ya won' need to get 'ested then" one of the cats say, and with a nod of his head, the whole group follows.
Live as a stray? Join them? It's your choice, mate.
Your choice.

i would be interested!

The same goes for me as well.

[wolverine♥]

I typically make my characters like me - skinny. XD I guess it's just the way I'm built? *shrugs* Doesn't mean I'm perfect, which means my characters definitely aren't, either! My personality type is already not supposed to exist according to some people (nice with a temper, yo!), so I just find that kinda funny. XD

ANYWAY! Enough harping about that for now. :3 Should owners of semi-lit RPs be... I don't know... strict with their role-plays? I'm not. XD I typically let anyone who has at least decent grammar into my RPs! XD

Then I get all offended when people say it's not semi-lit anymore apparently. Even though I have absolutely no right to feel that way!!! XD

[center]This may sound cruel... but I believe that semi-lit roleplay owners should be strict about who they let in. Semi-lit, in my book, means a decent paragraph. If they can't type one, they shouldn't be in that roleplay. Really, for the good of others and that person. It's hard to keep my muse up and write well if I'm responding to someone who writes very little, and if there are many good roleplayers, the less skilled person usually gets ignored.

And, I remember I used to join lit roleplays when I was still only semi-lit. xD Stupid me. I ended up feeling so bad about my pathetic posts that I usually quit after the intros were posted.

I agree. I think if the RP is going to labeled 'Semi-lit+', it should actually contain semi-lit people and above. xD

[Tatterdemalion]

Yeah, I kinda think that good grammar should just be there for any RPer, but obviously chat speak RPs still happen... *sigh* (Hey it's fine in an actual chatbox RP... but CS isnt one.)

I always said it was 1+ paragraph, but once you hit a 4 paragraph average you were literate. I also consider their ability to play realistically and actually tell a story when I lurk people's previous RPs. For me the whole RP scene is just a bunch of people telling one big story, so that sort of thing should be important. You can totally be literate in one paragraph, it's just the words you use and how it moves the plot along.

Buuuuut I can never say no XD If I see someone trying to get in even if they arent up to par I usually feel like letting them in and sorta 'educating' them on how a RP could be. Usually it just leaves me getting frustrated though, so I should really stop that and get a back bone.

[Verdana]

Username: Verdana
Favourite type of RPs: I go through phases. I'll roleplay anything, but at the moment I love humanoid roleplays.
Sample of writing:
[Don't judge me; this is what happens when I have an hour or so to sit and respond, and it's from a roleplay that's been going for years.]

//The First of Two Warnings//

From her tower, up above the world, the Empress looked out over the palace grounds. It was a sunny, bright summer's day, and the plants shone with vitality. With a small sigh, the woman leaned her elbows on the windowledge, peering at the colourful, peaceful bustle beneath her. She smiled wearily as she scanned over her world. All seemed commonplace. However, her eyes were drawn to a secluded patch of lawn in the Flower Gardens. A little, dark head bobbed through the flowerbeds, which was very much Forbidden. The ruler's eyes searched the grounds, until she found the much-expected shadow hugging a wall. Of course. He would not have let her go down alone. Suddenly, she tired of the tedium of her busy world. She decided, with a wave of her hand, that she'd much rather get some fresh air instead.

On deft feet, she slipped down the tower stairs. She managed to creep into the garden without a fuss (which took quite some skill those days) and slide up beside the shadowy young man. She had always been skilled at being unseen, but the young guard, whose face was old with experience, was far too intent on the spinning, laughing little girl who was getting her new dress all muddy to be interested in anything around him. The Empress felt a twinge of discomfort. His focus on his job was admirable, but, standing right here beside him, she could easily slip a knife between his ribs. She would teach the man a lesson, she decided.

With humour in her voice, she murmured,
And it was such a nice dress, too. She looked at it, slightly mournfully. Shaygrin got prettier and prettier every day. At five years old ('Five and a half!' Shay always yelped in protest) the girl's hair was starting to lose its downy look and was becoming sleek and shiny. She was becoming leggy and lean in a way her sister never had. She was not regal, but she would be. Unfortunately, at the moment, the young princess was opposed to anything remotely dignified. Hence her very tattered once-blue-silk dress.

At the sound of the Empress's voice, the guard who was Vladdamir tensed. He did not jump (this would have been far too undignified) but she had caught him by surprise. He did not take his eyes off of the girl, who was now investigating the flowers.
She has a penchant for trouble, he murmured in response. This, the Empress knew, was quite true. Her daughter seemed attracted to all sorts of calamity, be it spilt milk or grazed knees. Or, the Empress thought, torn clothing.
Well, that's why you're here, she affirmed. Vlad inclined his head, just once. They met each other's eyes. The Empress saw a flicker there, but she didn't have time to identify it. The guard turned back to the little girl, and his eyes widened in dismay. The Empress turned too, and caught her breath.
No, Shaygrin! Don't!

Dasker-Flies are pesky little cretins. A creature similar to a wasp, it has brightly-coloured, pigment-shifting wing-cases and the ability to fan said cases around itself, concealing its ugly, segmented body. Nestling in a bush, it uses these cases as camouflage. Shifting itself to look like a bloom, it lies in wait for its prey, which are the big-eyed, nectar-suckling Brangers.
Dasker-Flies are aggressive, quick-striking hunters. They are also very, very venomous. So when a pink, childish hand looms towards them, there is really only one thing for them to do.

A squeal of surprise fractured the peace of the gardens, and a howl of pain shattered it. The Empress took off running, faster than she thought possible. Not, however, as fast as Vlad was. Before she was halfway across the lawn, he was kneeling beside her wailing offspring. As she ran, the wails started to peter out. Her heart grew stony. The venom was already taking effect. She'd be paralysed in a heartbeat, and then...
Hand, she heard the guard command. Shaygrin proffered her little mitt, which was starting to swell. As she watched, the guard leaned down and pressed his lips to the wound. The Empress stared at this picture, aghast. Something about the poses brought to mind a child marriage, or an elder courtier trying to court her little girl. Something twisted inside her. Something nameless.

The vampyre's lips, his dead lips, traced her daughter's skin. He turned his head, spitting onto the ground. Her blood lined his mouth. Again he sucked at the wound. Little Shaygrin stood, perfectly still, perfectly trusting. The Empress stroked her daughter's head and crooned, knowing that she was doing nothing to help and hating it. After a while, the man withdrew.
There, he murmured to himself, riffling around in his pockets. He pulled out a spotless handkerchief and a glass vial. The clear liquid inside the latter was dripped onto the former, and he wiped the little girl's hand off. Her whimpers became sniffles, which faded away altogether. The whole routine, the Empress noted with sickening dread, had the feeling of... Routine. When he had cleaned the wound, Vladdamir patted the girl's hand. Shaygrin gave him a look. The three were silent. Vaguely conscious that something was different, Shaygrin sought to make amends. She leaned forward, and hugged her guard.

This was not the right move to make.

Go to the nurse now, Shaygrin, the Empress whispered, knowing as she watched her daughter run off that she would never, ever willingly enter the nurse's office. However, her leaving served its purpose, whatever her destination might have been. The Empress, full of motherly fear and revulsion, turned on the vampyre.
What was that?
If the man was abashed, he didn't show it. He was also wise enough not to circumnavigate the truth.
It's happened before. Twice.
The Empress scowled.
You are her guard. You are not her friend. You will not talk to her, you will not comfort her. You will not, will not grow attached to her. Do I make myself quite clear? I will not warn you again.

The Empress was wrong. She would warn him once more.

There would not, however, be a third warning. By then it would be far too late.

//Shaygrin Rescued//

I'm cold, and I hurt. But, you know what? This is nothing new to me. These days, I always seem to be in some form of discomfort. In fact, I should count myself lucky that it isn't a lot worse. I lean into Vlad's back, smelling his very lively scent of sweat and spice and boy on the brink of manhood. No, it could be a lot worse. The horse thunders over the snowy terrain. I don't wonder about its balance. I don't want to think about that. The sides of my head grow cold. That I do speculate on. I think of many theories about that. Anything to take my mind off of the chaos that undoubtably awaits us. As we near the palace, I hear it. Screams. Gnashing teeth and scything claws. We are entering a battlefield.

I wonder where my armour went.

Off the horse and onto the cold-hard ground. I jolt at the pressure under my bare feet (never got round to putting on shoes) and I stumble after Vlad. Not for long. He turns, and notices my ankle. I look at it with quiet detachment. I'd have thought that the cold would have frozen the edges quite nicely. Apparently not. I look back at Vlad, feeling almosy as if I should be reacting more enthusiastically. I let him lead me somewhere safe, and sit in the straw, dazed and shivering, as he hurries away. I must say, it's rather sweet, the way he gets all concerned about me. If it were the older Vlad, he wouldn't even bat an eyelid. In fact, he'd make me heal it myself. I look down at the wound. It's not too bad. I should fix it. But... If I did, Vlad'd be terribly disappointed. I kind of like having him fuss over me. So I let it ooze into the straw.

He hurries in soon after this, holding some yellow thread and a needle. Instantly, my eyes darken with distrust. Never liked needles. And to hear that he wants to stick one into me? Not too thrilled. He offers an arm, and I reluctantly close my mouth around it. Just to make him happy. I don't really need any-Yeowohbythebladeowww! I barely stop myself shrieking the building down. I clamp my teeth hard around his arm. Life returns to my body as hot pain soars through my side, all the way up to my elbow. Vlad's blood fills my mouth. I keep biting. Makeitstopmakeitstop, I think, over and over. Who am I kidding? I'm no warrior. This is unbearable. Make. It. Stop.

It does stop, though not nearly soon enough for my liking. He strokes my hair away. I am sweating. He speaks to me, and I just nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth. We get up, and our journey continues. I look down at my ankle, with its bright yellow threading. It makes me smile. Not smiling for long. Someone yells. Vlad identifies it. And, as usual, we're off and running. As I am dragged along behind the anxious young man, I ponder the fact that we never seem to just walk anywhere. Can't we just, I don't know, stroll? Strolling's awfully nice. Much nicer than running. Besides, I think churlishly, if he's screaming like that, he's already dead. I regret the thought instantly. I liked Gabriel. Like him. He's not dead yet.

There's a madness of chasing and being chased. First we're chasing a voice, then a hound is chasing us. My mind can't keep up. I pant as we twist and turn and dash. Dead end. Of course. We could always flit. Though, I confess that I am scared to do so by myself. Especially with a passenger. I still lack an ear. I get pulled inside a cupboard. One day, I decide, I'll do the pulling. We stand in the cupboard, awaiting death. For some reason, Vladdy is worrying about my clothes. This strikes me as quite funny. We're about to be eaten, and he's scared I'm going to catch a chill. Really? Or... Is this something else? Maybe I should... My loins stir. Ah, what the hell? I've always kind of wanted this. I strip down, and look at Vlad the way he's looking at me. Admiringly. Hungrily. You know, death... It seems rather insignificant now. Vlad clutches me to him. His hot human flesh is against mine. I kiss him, I feel my hands over his smooth flesh. I... I...

I am interrupted in my passion by a hound's muzzle. I ignore it. I'm in the middle of something important right here. It's only when the hound becomes Gabriel that I am surprised enough to break away. In fact, I'm not. I had a feeling. Vlad is, though. I let him go, regretfully. I can still taste him on my lips. The two banter. I shrug off Gabriel's apology. It all turned out okay in the end, after all. At least I'm not still with the ghastly king. A sore ankle seems fair compensation. Now... I pull on Vlad's shirt, and am grasping his breeches when everything goes wrong. He's hurt. Something's wrong. I yell in anguish and kneel beside him. No! What happened? Everything was going so well! I grasp his fingers. I am too busy listening to Vlad to hear Gabriel.
I know, I whisper back to him. I'll see you soon. This may or may not be true for both of us. Then I register Gabriel. He's giving me coordinates. I absorb them. I picture them. I flit...


I arrive in Panem with my usual aplomb. I seem unable to make an entrance in a nondescript way. I appear a few feet off of the ground, and tumble, my legs entwined in Vlad's loose breeches. I wish I could say that they were on my legs. Note to self: Do not try and get changed while flitting. I lie, face-down in the dirt. I feel a cold breeze on my rear end. As the last of the snow melts off of my face, my cheeks redden. Oops. Hope nobody's watching this. I sit up, and pull the trousers on. Looks pretty good. Nobody's he... And then I turn, doing up the top button of legware far too loose and of the definitive wrong shape for my body, to see... Him.

I stare. He looks so much older. So much more dignified. His face is worn, but beautiful. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed him. I take a step towards him. Almost immediately, the breeches pool around my ankles. Pulling them up, I start to run. They tangle and trip me, so I end up leaping the last few feet. I meet him at waist-height, and grab him with no intention of letting go. The offending trousers drop, but I don't care. I sniff him, his parchment smell. It takes me a moment to pull myself together. I stand up, pulling my pants back on with as much dignity as I can muster. I look him up and down. I reach out tenderly...

And grab his face with vice-like fingers.
What were you thinking, stitching me up like that? I yell, feeling his cheekbones in my grip.
It's bloody taken years off of my life! Did you have no brain back then? None at all? Well, obviously you didn't. Letting me sneak into the palace... The king almost sodomised me, I'll have you know! And no thanks to you! Where were you when I was being practically felt-up by a raving-mad, lustful monarch? Hmm? Well? I dig my fingers hard into his cheeks, and then let go. I stare at him for a moment, before pulling his face dowm to me, far more tenderly this time. I let my lips meet his.
I missed this you. I whisper into his mouth, continuing a kiss with the same but different man.

I pull away. The trousers... They've fallen off again. Suddenly, it's all too much. I pull them up once more, and then sit down hard on the ground. I start to laugh, peals and peals of hysterical, wild laughter that seem neverending.

Any semi-lit or lit RPs you have: The Wren I was hoping for people more on the 'lit' side of semi-lit, but it's fun anyway.

[Kites]

Verdy! *Tacklehug*

So, a question to everyone at large, what is your favourite post that you have made?

[diamonds;;]

Verdy! *Tacklehug*

So, a question to everyone at large, what is your favourite post that you have made?

hi verdana!

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• e l l i e • a r a b e l l a • h a r t •


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{{ who { •do• } you think you •are•?
running round leaving scars
collecting your jar hearts }}

Upon the noise of the same dreaded morning screech Ellie awoke. Alarm clock. Again. 9:30 a.m. She slammed her hand on top of the device and it finally stopped. She pulled herself from her drowsiness and slumber and she almost threw herself from bed, falling onto the floor. Ellie held her stomach felling the sudden loss of air from whithin her lungs. "What a brillaint start to the day!" The girl cursed under her breath. Brillaint. Just Brillaint. She wiped her eyes and stammered into the bathroom, looking into the mirror seeing her reflection. Ugh. The teenager turned on the tap and splashed her face full of water that brought her out of her dreamland. She brushed her teeth quickly and pulled on her favourite 'All-saints' white T-shirt and Black denim leggins. Her onyx black hair fell behind her back as she wiped away loose strands of a colour like a raven's wings and but on her black leather jacket.

A strange sound of the the door-bell ringing echoed through the house causing Ellie to run down the stairs and answer to whowever was there. Strange. There was no-one there. She looked at both sides of the street, yet saw nothing or no-one close enough by to have been knocking. With a frown, Ellie slammed the door to a shut, then peered out of the window to see if the someone had returned. Kids. Stupid Kids. she sighed and shook her head as she walked into the open kitchen. Pulling out a ceral box of Corn Flakes and pouring them into a bowl, she helped herself to break-fast and a breif drink of fresh orange juice. In the reflection of the window she saw a figure move out-side of her house. Stupid. Ellie sat down at the kitchen bar, keeping a close look out to see who was lurking around her yard. The casual, everyday note from her 'hard-working' parents had been left on the marble counter, saying the same old thing.

'Gone to work, be back at 8;30. love you'

and always signed by Dad and Mom. Well thats a change. A blue note instead of a yellow. Wow.

Picking up the note, she scribbled smileys with the black fountain pen that lay besides it. After the 'you' she wrote a xP, under the 8;30 she wrote xD, before the 'gone' she wrote O.e and above the 'work' she wrote c: . A day's drawing lesson complete.

With a final mouthful of her break-fast and the last sip of her drink, she grabbed her White Paul Frank bag and walked through the living room and opened the door to the fresh morning air. Seeing that her skate-board has been diliberately moved, she kicked in back into space then headed towards the local cafe where she would start he week's shift as a waitress, with the worst known enemy to man. The boss. Now in Ellie's case this boss was... obbsessed with the word 'sacked'. He had already fired two people in three days. Stuff this job. She wandered along the side-walk slowly with her apron in her bag. Stuff this apron. As Ellie turned to look back on her house, her gaze quickly shifted to a slow moving white van with blacked out windows seemingly following her down the road.

There were four in total. You could just see small grey silhouettes from the almost comepletely black tinted windows. Glad I can't see their ugly faces. She driften further away from the crowds and the looming buildings of the town. Her head seem to swarm and throb with questions. Her pace began to quick, her walk slowly yet gradually get faster and faster as she tried to escape the many pedestrians. She thought not to lead them down dark alleyways, as a narrow escape would be almost impossible for anyone if there be a dead end. Ellie turned her head over her right hand shoulder, seeing that the van had been closing in while she had been thinking. The driver was pressing his ear and speaking in something that looked like a hushed tone.

Stopping at a busy intersection, Ellie smirked faintly while carrying on walking and checked left to right for any oncoming traffic. A silly thought, yet it soon changed into; Who are they? Ellie glanced at a strange van that had been following her down the road. What did they want? Her? Her Dad? Her Mom? Well for sure, they were not going to be friendly. You could gather that just from their worn apperances. Her pace began to gradually quicken, until she broke into some sort of a fast walk. Quicker and Quicker she stepped, care-full not to fall. As the van began to speed up, so did she. Ditch this whole job i'm goin' running. With one last look behind her, she ran. She crossed the road then sprinted into a nearby feild, always stepping carefully ahead so she does not fall. The van stopped, two smartly dressed men started to run across the feild following her. "oooo you've gone to far now" she muttered in a voice that was barely a whisper. She ran quicker than she had even done before, the cross-country practice gave her a fair chance of running away. On the buffer point between the feild and the forest was a small stream, possibly jump-able, but it would take some doing. She new that she would be safer in here with the winding paths and thin, towering pine trees, and of-course that hole, the hole in the ground.

With a run up, Ellie leaped further than she had ever done before, yet almost slipped into the stream but managed to clamber up just at the last moment. She threw her head over her shoulder to see that the two men where regaining their breath in the middle of the feild. "Hello little girl. Are you lost?" said a sactically caring voice from infront of her. She didn't dare to turn her head, yet the person did it for her. His thick, leathery gloves brushed across her face. "Who are you?" She demanded. "Ahh. A fighter. I like a fighter. Oh, we? How rude am I not to introduce myself and my fellow workers. We are the sceintists from the Icarus Project. Don't worry, everything will be clear sooner or later. With that, a man jumped on her, and a sharp and feirce pain flowed through her body. "You will pay for that!" She yelled thrashing her legs and arms at the guy. Ellie started to become drowsy, and her vision became blurred. Everything beyond that point was a blurr.

She awoke a day later in the back of the van, and in blind fury she thrashed out. Blind-folded or not, there was nothing to see apart from two grey figures from the railings seperating the two ends of the van. She kicked out, rolled from side to side thumping the walls what only made her get a sedative. Her handcuffs rubbed on her wrists causing a bloody mark to throb. Everything ached, her arms, her head, her bones, her legs. Everything. She was given sedatives several times because of her stirring, so she could not remember everything.

They have gone now. She didn't know how she got there or who they were. In a strange place, white walls, plain architecture, atleast they were gone. Ellie sniggered. She observed the room carefully, taking in everything. Cameras. So they are are watching. Cowards. She smiled sarcastically at the camera, yet it ended voilently with a frown. She cursed the CCTV camera with her fingures, and the man behind the screen wasn't to pleased with that unpleasant behaviour. "Subject 517204 is awake sir" He spoke to the boss.

{{ your {gonna • catch} a • [cold• from] the ice•inside•your•soul
don't come back for me
don't come back at all }}

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//.. there! that took a while! sorry for being a huge delay guys, i am. its a wip for some of it aswell! i just need to walk the dog! okay, still a wip. need to have my dinner then I will edit. finished. ..\\

'dis one!

c e l a n d i a
xxxx

As entering the mouth of the cave, she bolted. The pup swerved round and lunged for the entrance were she came from just a few seconds ago. However, something held her back. A mental force field held her from going out of the cave again, yet something urged her to. She heard yips, three clear ones and others seemed to be fading with a weak voice. The voice was a familiar one, Nexus? Nexus must be attacking and in need of help. Lyra must be with Nexus, as she saw her go that way. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a beautiful, sleek and elegant figure complimented by a stunning moon highlighted armour. She wanted to run, she wanted to be brave. Yet all the many warnings and codes filled her mind and blurred and pushed any other thoughts to the side. She must not go out into the plains without an experienced adult. She knew this, yet she stood there hoping for the best, the worst getting thrown our of her more than alive mind. She thought of what may happen, and many images of bloody bodies covered the ground. Illusions of dead alphas, pups, scouts and warriors with her standing in the centre of it all. How could she just watch her friends get hurt? She must train first. She must received her armour, then and only then she will be able to fight these many and the most awful of wars.

This battle had only frightened her, yet she was on the side lines, watching every minute of it. Now as Celandia looked into the future, a sudden feeling entered her body. Within the battle, you could not think of anything but your opponent. Right? That was what Celandia felt. She turned around, feeling some sort of guilt as she turned away from battle, and not looking back. The guilt because if she hadn't gone through that entrance, maybe not as many warriors would be hurt. And finally the guilt that if Lyra and Nexus were hurt, it was her fault because of she did not warn anyone in time. As gathering with her friends, she realised Kafka had slipped away from the group. What was she doing now? It was battle! Celandia's ears pricked as she heard another pup. Another? Well that could only mean more adventure, however they were not aloud out side of their den's now because of battle that took place just out of this labyrinth. "Mama! Lyra and Nexus are fighting big Korondors out there! Please go and help them! They're our friends and we don't want the to get hurt!" she shouted, her red eyes gazing at her beautiful mother. "Pwease mama" she added, trying to convince her. She never wanted anyone to get hurt, never mind one of her friends and another play-mate. She will get her revenge.

[meh. slight WB]

and 'dis one!

[ link ]

i like my forms, even though this one is a wip.

-----

could anyone give me some critisim on that form so far?

[Kites]

This one because it was in my favourite roleplay which died.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Cirque de la Lune...
The man stuffed his hands in his pockets. The pre-show nerves were usual, and one would think that they would be overcome with years of going on stage. But you would be wrong. He took a deep breath, taking in the musky air of the theatre, and closed his eyes. This show, like all of the others, was going to be perfect. He only hired the best, and he expected the best, as did the audience. He opened his eyes, and took out his hand from his pocket. He looked down at the beaten silver watch, and a frown creased his forehead.
Five minutes until the meeting.
He turned away from the banister that he was standing at, and walked down the stairs, his sequin encrusted navy tailcoat swishing with a glimmer. He bounced down the stairs, and positivly leapt onto the stage. He spun around, his arms wide, and his green eyes shut. He came to a stop, his tails whipping around his legs. He lifted his hea to look at the theatre. It was an old building in the middle of the city, respected worldwide. Stars had performed on this very stage. The ringleader put his black top hat on his head, his polished waist height staff sat firmly in his hands as he gave his opening pose to the seemingly empty theatre.
A small clapping echoed through the theatre, and Damien's head snapped upwards. His face broke into a grin, laughter lines appearing around his eyes, a feature which he hated. "Alexia!" His voice was strong, powerful and confident, though with an English accent which he had been perfecting for the last week.
The young girl poked her head from around one of the leather seats and skipped to the stage, her matching navy tails swishing and glittering as she went.
"Daddy!" She called as she clambered onto the stage, and threw her arms around her fathers waist. Damien chuckled, and stroked her head with a free hand. "Are you ready my dear?" He asked, his accent now returning to normal; A mild Russian accent.
"Ready Pa!" Alexia grinned into his coat. Although she wasn't allowed to perform, Alexia occasionally went onstage for a small scene with her father, only as a sidekick for opening or closing the show.
"You'll be perfect my dear", Damien chuckled as he checked his watch once more. It was six o'clock, the performers should be arriving any minute now, perhaps with their make-up half done, perhaps already ready. Indeed, Damien's face was caked in stage paint, and Alexia had a silver moon painted onto her cheek that mirrored the ones on their tailcoats.
The show was to start in an hour and a half, and it was tradition for the ringmaster to give a prep talk to the performers on the night of the show.

This one because it is just plain "Awwww"

Tamesis pushed his head over her shoulder as she whimpered. He hated the sound. She sounded so weak, so fragile. Such characteristics were unlike her, and it made him worried. He tightened his grip on her, squeezing her tightly. His heart raced against hers, his roughly shaven cheek against her smooth one. His green eyes closed, pain spread across his face which thankfully she could not see.

He pulled away as she whispered his name. He loved it when she said his name, how her lips moved so perfectly, the sound rolling off her tongue like birdsong on a warm summer's morning. Though now, she sounded scared. He stroked her hair softly, and looked down into her eyes.

"My Sarah," he whispered, bending his head closer to hers. He pressed his lips to the outer corner of her eyes, gently kissing each in turn, before raising his head slightly again. He moved his finger to her chin, and tilted her head upwards so she could look him in the eyes. His green eyes met hers, and he said softly, "Sarah, you are the love of my life. I don't care about what happens to me, as long as you are safe. You know how much I love you, and what ever is in my power to protect you. If I could, I would spend every living moment with you, and continue to stay by your side even afterwards. I just...don't want to hurt you. A part of me wants to wisk you away, kiss your tender skin on a soft sheet, in the daylight, not in this cold dingy alleyway, but I can't. You know I can't bring myself to put you at risk. I've done enough by even turning up, and I feel guilty constantly when I am away from you," he said, taking a breath, and chuckling softly. "I love you, and I'll always be by your side," he finished with a small, and somewhat apologetic smile.

And this one from my favourite roleplay that is still going. It is also my favourite because of the character that I play, who has not seen the light of day, and has been kept in a lab for all his life. I really enjoyed making him scared of loud noises and of the new people.

Never regret thy fall,
O Icarus of the fearless flight
For the greatest tragedy of them all
Is never to feel the burning light.

Icarus didn't respond to the other girls' cries. He couldn't find anything to say. "I'm sorry," he whispered at first, clutching his head. He suddenly felt really nervous, and scared. The shouts were putting him on edge, and small beads of sweat ran down his face. He had been shouted at many times, and the noises of raised voices terrified him. He was scared of many things. He had only learnt to be scared of things, not to love things.

Will I become like you, she had said. He looked down at her sadly, and nodded slowly, swallowing his fear. "I'm so sorry," he stammered quickly, his voice breaking. He didn't want this. The Doctors had done many things to him in the past, and he didn't want it happening to these people either. Though it was too late. "I'm sorry," he whispered. All that waited for them, was tortuous, aganising pain. He knew, he had been through it. Though maybe he could help them. He couldn't stop the pain, but in the days that he had to endure it, he had found a way to make it...not go away, but decrease slightly. It was the only thing that kept him sane. Excerise. He had pushed himself to the limits and beyond, making himself unintentionally sick, and he had fainted several times from exhaustion. But it kept his mind off the pain. Maybe it would work for them.

He flung himself to the bars as he noticed what the man was doing. "No, what are you doing?" He asked, watching as the man climbed his way to the top of the wall. "No, you'll hurt yourself if you fall, please get down," Icarus begged, his knuckles white as he gripped onto the bars. He let out a gasp as the man fell, and then let out an angered cry. "No, stupid!" he said, falling to the ground smoothly, using his wings to slow himself down. He walked around in circles, gripping onto his head. "I told you, I told you," he said, his face stricken. "I was only trying to help," he whispered as he sat down on his bed. He put his face in his hands, listening to the man's cries of pain, knowing full well that they had been his own before.

He didn't know these people, but he knew that they were different. He also knew, that he didn't want them going through the same experience as him. It sickened him to the bone.

~

The door opened to Jacob's room, and a Doctor entered. He stood over Jacob, looking down at him unapprovingly. He reached down, and grabbed Jacob's hurt wrist, and inspected it. He pulled out a small bandage like strip, and wrapped it around the wrist in complete silence. The bandage started to harden, creating a cast like case on his wrist. The Doctor stood up, and walked out of the cell, and shut the door behind him.

[Tatterdemalion]

Pfffft I wouldnt be able to pick a favorite... I always find something wrong with them later XD

[fawnkisses]

^ THIS.

I went and read a bunch of my posts and I totally can't find one. I did like this bit from an rp I run with my friend, though.

That voice...he whipped around, dark brown leather coat fanning out behind him*. Tears slipped from her golden eyes, dripping down that precious face....that precious face? His eyes narrowed, those green-gray eyes that were usually light and cheerful.

' Lafayette, what happened ? '

This girl...' Oh, Seline...that's her name. ' He glared down at her, bangs falling over his face and shading his eyes slightly. " What happened? " Lafayette hissed in retort, a frown twisting that normally smiling face. It looked like a distorted picture when a smile was missing. Why did this girl show concern for him? He jerked farther away from her, stumbling somewhat, as if his other personality was saying ' don't bother her! ' -- Sel, the little piece of this sane world he has created.