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W I L L O W • ♀ • 1 1
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16 days ago
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You can do it, Dark Cloud!
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19 days ago
And of course, it wouldn’t be me without mentioning how amazing newborn baby heads smell. ; - ; )
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19 days ago
As a once single-mother who was under peer pressure to get an abortion, I think there should def. Be more help for crisis pregnancies.
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19 days ago
The adoption process is a nightmare, tho, and efforts to clean it up should be taken.
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19 days ago
I know a lot of pro-life people who have adopted, even if they had children of their own.
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W I L L O W • ♀ • 1 1
𝓘mprinted in my soul,
𝓘 have the portrait of a fair lady. . .
𝓘 won't insult my fate by weeping, empty tears shedding. . .
𝓑ut as it was, it was torture for Walter attempting to mind his own business as he sat there like a good trained dog next to his brother as a master. He understood the feelings that multiplied in front of Lady Alyssana, and even then, he felt a sudden flush like a paleness blushing a fever across his cheeks. Still, the young man fidgeted with one of his watches. The strap was soft with leather, and he thought of the calf that had been separated from his mother before slaughter. It brought his mind to an ease on the main topic at hand.
“They simply want us to quiet the media, is that correct?” He felt Finnegan's strong hand place itself upon his shoulder, and the jittery feelings calmed instantly. A sick he was being, and a sick man he always would be. He wished to be of more use to his brother, but his mind would not allow it in many different ways than the ones currently being provoked.
Finnegan removed his hand as his brother's body quieted. His scent was starved for some attention that would never happen. His mind knew better. He needed food, perhaps more than Lady Alyssana. He wondered now, if this was where he fit, caring for everyone who was too preoccupied with their own studies. He would take the compliment with his own selfish endeavors, “Something of the sort,” he took a bite of the shepherd potpie, letting a gap between Walter and him linger, “Unfortunately,” he squinted, tempting his memory with the words of the poem, “This murderer has become more and more attractive the more I get to know Lady Alsy--,” he stopped himself, again, letting usual course of his overly amusing flirts overlay evening, “He or she has drawn my attention. Why do they want us to quiet the murders? I have been wondering this when here, no one wants to quiet my own nor those of Madame Sophronia.”
His hand looked at the silver print on the fork's handle. There was an intricate design that was melted and stamped into it. He had inherited it from his father's side of the family, and just know he noticed there was a man who wore a bore head on it. His feet started at the thread and ended on the fiddle-shape. It meant nothing to him at this very moment, but he thought maybe it was some olde sprite akin to some trickster of sorts, “You do know, I am half wondering why they even asked for my assistance on the matter.” He allowed his mind to linger on his dinner as he thought about it.
There were far more important things to ponder than stupid murders, especially from the whiles of Madame Sophronia. She would never let him have his way with Julianna, not that she was anything compared to Lady Alyssana accept both seemed almost unattainable. No, that was a lie. Even the reader could tell us this. Lady Alyssana was the more sought after woman, but in horribly indistinct times, Finnegan would drop his guard even if momentary and on purpose.
“You are a very good problem-solver, my dear brother,” Walter chimed. He was still attracted to sipping his tea and had not touched much of his dinner, unlike Finnegan who seemed to have known exactly what he wanted from his meal, “As is Lady Alyssana.” He could not help but add. He tried to hold back such a random comment, but as usual, his honesty took hold of him. It was like a torch, and he could never put it out. Many times, this torch was too heavy for him to carry. Even now, with Lord Christopher about, he worried that he would have to excuse himself. He strained to keep himself with another sip of conversation, “You do not make, they knew you would bring in Lady Alyssana? What if the murderer is the one who has requested you?”
It was almost darling to watch his brother attempt to help with the case. After working with him in the laboratory, he understood this was not going to end well, but he allowed it, like the lavishly ridiculous designs on all his cockery. He took more to the artistry than he should have while Walter attempted to make his case known, “To be honest, I doubt someone would do such a thing. I would find them immediately. As Lord Finnegan Oaks. I am live as too much of a shining example to played with like this. In fact, I'd say I frighten a good neighboring psychopath if that were the case,” his eyes looked at Lady Alyssana. This was meant as a pass, but as all his attempts, he knew were fleeting, like a dead, gentle lantern swaying in front of her. She saw past his every attempt, and all the more, he loved her.
𝓘 have the portrait of a fair lady. . .
𝓘 won't insult my fate by weeping, empty tears shedding. . .
𝓑ut as it was, it was torture for Walter attempting to mind his own business as he sat there like a good trained dog next to his brother as a master. He understood the feelings that multiplied in front of Lady Alyssana, and even then, he felt a sudden flush like a paleness blushing a fever across his cheeks. Still, the young man fidgeted with one of his watches. The strap was soft with leather, and he thought of the calf that had been separated from his mother before slaughter. It brought his mind to an ease on the main topic at hand.
“They simply want us to quiet the media, is that correct?” He felt Finnegan's strong hand place itself upon his shoulder, and the jittery feelings calmed instantly. A sick he was being, and a sick man he always would be. He wished to be of more use to his brother, but his mind would not allow it in many different ways than the ones currently being provoked.
Finnegan removed his hand as his brother's body quieted. His scent was starved for some attention that would never happen. His mind knew better. He needed food, perhaps more than Lady Alyssana. He wondered now, if this was where he fit, caring for everyone who was too preoccupied with their own studies. He would take the compliment with his own selfish endeavors, “Something of the sort,” he took a bite of the shepherd potpie, letting a gap between Walter and him linger, “Unfortunately,” he squinted, tempting his memory with the words of the poem, “This murderer has become more and more attractive the more I get to know Lady Alsy--,” he stopped himself, again, letting usual course of his overly amusing flirts overlay evening, “He or she has drawn my attention. Why do they want us to quiet the murders? I have been wondering this when here, no one wants to quiet my own nor those of Madame Sophronia.”
His hand looked at the silver print on the fork's handle. There was an intricate design that was melted and stamped into it. He had inherited it from his father's side of the family, and just know he noticed there was a man who wore a bore head on it. His feet started at the thread and ended on the fiddle-shape. It meant nothing to him at this very moment, but he thought maybe it was some olde sprite akin to some trickster of sorts, “You do know, I am half wondering why they even asked for my assistance on the matter.” He allowed his mind to linger on his dinner as he thought about it.
There were far more important things to ponder than stupid murders, especially from the whiles of Madame Sophronia. She would never let him have his way with Julianna, not that she was anything compared to Lady Alyssana accept both seemed almost unattainable. No, that was a lie. Even the reader could tell us this. Lady Alyssana was the more sought after woman, but in horribly indistinct times, Finnegan would drop his guard even if momentary and on purpose.
“You are a very good problem-solver, my dear brother,” Walter chimed. He was still attracted to sipping his tea and had not touched much of his dinner, unlike Finnegan who seemed to have known exactly what he wanted from his meal, “As is Lady Alyssana.” He could not help but add. He tried to hold back such a random comment, but as usual, his honesty took hold of him. It was like a torch, and he could never put it out. Many times, this torch was too heavy for him to carry. Even now, with Lord Christopher about, he worried that he would have to excuse himself. He strained to keep himself with another sip of conversation, “You do not make, they knew you would bring in Lady Alyssana? What if the murderer is the one who has requested you?”
It was almost darling to watch his brother attempt to help with the case. After working with him in the laboratory, he understood this was not going to end well, but he allowed it, like the lavishly ridiculous designs on all his cockery. He took more to the artistry than he should have while Walter attempted to make his case known, “To be honest, I doubt someone would do such a thing. I would find them immediately. As Lord Finnegan Oaks. I am live as too much of a shining example to played with like this. In fact, I'd say I frighten a good neighboring psychopath if that were the case,” his eyes looked at Lady Alyssana. This was meant as a pass, but as all his attempts, he knew were fleeting, like a dead, gentle lantern swaying in front of her. She saw past his every attempt, and all the more, he loved her.
This sounds fun. I have sub'd.
C h i l d r e n o f t h e A p o c a l y p s e
A Dungeon Crawler & Open World Exploration_____________________T H E M E S : | _____________________ Exploitation of Children ∙ Man & the Natural World ∙ Extreme Competition ∙ Gender, Religion & Power |
T H E P R E M I S E
The year is 2111. Food is scarce. Cannibalism is rampant. Currency is lucid. You are either a mislead military personnel, a child of slavery, a young nomad who may or may not know something, or a childlike metahuman with beastly instincts. It has been several generations since the nuclear fall out destroyed the world, and you know almost nothing of the world before the nuclear storm devoured it. If you are in the military, you may know the first three basics. First, there was a global pandemic. Second, there was an error in the globally approved vaccination. Third, there was a war that left a global wasteland of extreme anarchy. If you are a child of slavery, you know nothing except your best friend may be your next meal, and escaping from your masters' is almost alwats futile. However, some friends and you have just found a way to break out of your prison cells. If you are a nomad, you may be all alone or still have family. Your methods of survival are strict with seeking peace with the land, but that often means frailty and scarcer sources of food. If you are a metahuman, you sometimes cannot even remember your first name, but you know the layout of the forest like the back of your hand even if the flora and fauna can sometimes be your worst enemy. Choose a character and explore the lands. Try venturing solo out of fear of making bonds. Join up with others for a better chance of survival. Find out what happened and what is yet to happen. But, whatever you do, be careful. Survival is the only option.
L I N K S
_______________________________________________________________________
IC · OOC · Char. Tab · Discord
_______________________________________________________________________
IC · OOC · Char. Tab · Discord
"... I have my own lines. They haven't been crossed.
There's a magic to a story of children growing strong together in the face
of insurmountable odds. I'm hoping to find that here, or paint that picture/find
it in this bleak world."
T H E W O R L D
F A C T I O N S _______________________________________________________________________ Scavengers · Metahumans · Nomads · Military M A P S _______________________________________________________________________ Nests · Buildings · Cities · Countrysides Forests · Houses · Roads F L O R A & F A U N A _______________________________________________________________________ Edible · Dangerous · Hallucinatory · Haunting Healing · Very Dangerous · Mounts Scarce · Toxic |  P R E V I E W |
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Real Life Face Claim | F A C T I O N : N A M E : N I C K N A M E : Optional unless in the Military A G E : S K I L L S : Choose Five (5) Skills L E V E L : E X P . P O I N T S : H U N G E R : T H I R S T : H E A L T H : H U M A N I T Y : S T R E N G T H ○○○○○○○○○○ D E X T E R I T Y ○○○○○○○○○○ C O N S T I T U T I O N ○○○○○○○○○○ I N T E L L I G E N C E ○○○○○○○○○○ W I S D O M ○○○○○○○○○○ C H A R I S M A ○○○○○○○○○○ |
P L E A S E , R E A D A L L R U L E S & R E G U L A T I O N S
B E F O R E S U B M I T T I N G A C H A R A C T E R S H E E T .
T H A N K Y O U .
B E F O R E S U B M I T T I N G A C H A R A C T E R S H E E T .
T H A N K Y O U .
R U L E S & R E G U L A T I O N S
_______________________________________________________________________
A L L G U I L D R U L E S A P P L Y
_______________________________________________________________________
A L L G U I L D R U L E S A P P L Y
1. Be kind, courteous, and forgiving. GM and CO-GM have final say.
2. Your character(s) may or may not survive. The death of your character(s) may or may not be expected.
3. Do not join the game if you have problems with emotional bleeding or spillovers between players and characters.
4. Life is not fair. The game is not fair.
5. Please, reread Rule 1 for all inquiries.
2. Your character(s) may or may not survive. The death of your character(s) may or may not be expected.
3. Do not join the game if you have problems with emotional bleeding or spillovers between players and characters.
4. Life is not fair. The game is not fair.
5. Please, reread Rule 1 for all inquiries.
“𝓞h, thank God, I thought I was going to have to plead with you to take a break.”
𝓛ord Finnegan admitted before the forever squeamish Lord Christopher and Lord Walter would arrive. Lady Alyssana was masculine (the crash courses at the Institute still played well in his mind); once she began something, she could not simply stop herself. She simply, again, had such a driven nature that she had to finish something once it was started. However, the woman had her decency. She was from the noble class and could stop herself, if she so desired.
There were women who laughed at her ambitious side. He thought them fools, like the audiences misunderstanding the humors of Shakespearean plays, and not the fools who played the fools themselves.
She was sometimes seen as someone no man would want when compared to the lavishly dressed maiden counterparts. He believed it to be particularly brilliant that she could turn scraps into beautiful pieces of art. Other men wanted more from their women. The mechanical nature of her bronze wings may have given a clue to this, but even with such steam that he would love to rust with all the intricacies of the secret stardusts, the nervous irritabilities she often portrayed in other women was indescribable sometimes.
It was not her, he was taught to believe, by all the teachings that he had learned while attending the Institute. It was them. He could read all of the pearls and diamonds of the other dames like name tags, but if the truth were to be told, they all read the same name. It was part of the reason why Le Parfum Operando was successful. It was just like the jewelers who made personalized watches. They had some rich way of glittering on the flirting wrists, but her personality sparkled in a way that was not needed for such luxurious fashions.
It was the other women whose fashions grew in vain, and Lady Alysanna's whose fashion kept cheerful and steady. It was natural at most and exemplified the parts of her most women cared to hide with disguises and other masquerades, “Walter, don't squirm so much. You make hav...” He stopped himself, unable to finish his sentence. It was not every day that Walter was able to see Lord Christopher, and seeing Lord Christopher meant that Lady Alyssana was about. He felt like a spoiled rich kid, again, grasping at straws on how to connect with the people around him, “You might spill your tea.”
Walter's whimsical mess was disastrous all the more as he sat panting in the back of his mind at some joke he could barely remember. His hand messed with one of his wrist watches, “Of course, I'm just so excited.” His excitement was a flaw, and it would probably be the death of him as it drained his energy as he aged. However, the sin was merely a missed mark he could not afford to correct. A chloroform perfume of sorts might be myth to help. “Thank you for joining us, Chris and Alyssana, especially, a-after this afternoon. It is such a pleasure.”
𝓛ord Finnegan admitted before the forever squeamish Lord Christopher and Lord Walter would arrive. Lady Alyssana was masculine (the crash courses at the Institute still played well in his mind); once she began something, she could not simply stop herself. She simply, again, had such a driven nature that she had to finish something once it was started. However, the woman had her decency. She was from the noble class and could stop herself, if she so desired.
There were women who laughed at her ambitious side. He thought them fools, like the audiences misunderstanding the humors of Shakespearean plays, and not the fools who played the fools themselves.
She was sometimes seen as someone no man would want when compared to the lavishly dressed maiden counterparts. He believed it to be particularly brilliant that she could turn scraps into beautiful pieces of art. Other men wanted more from their women. The mechanical nature of her bronze wings may have given a clue to this, but even with such steam that he would love to rust with all the intricacies of the secret stardusts, the nervous irritabilities she often portrayed in other women was indescribable sometimes.
It was not her, he was taught to believe, by all the teachings that he had learned while attending the Institute. It was them. He could read all of the pearls and diamonds of the other dames like name tags, but if the truth were to be told, they all read the same name. It was part of the reason why Le Parfum Operando was successful. It was just like the jewelers who made personalized watches. They had some rich way of glittering on the flirting wrists, but her personality sparkled in a way that was not needed for such luxurious fashions.
It was the other women whose fashions grew in vain, and Lady Alysanna's whose fashion kept cheerful and steady. It was natural at most and exemplified the parts of her most women cared to hide with disguises and other masquerades, “Walter, don't squirm so much. You make hav...” He stopped himself, unable to finish his sentence. It was not every day that Walter was able to see Lord Christopher, and seeing Lord Christopher meant that Lady Alyssana was about. He felt like a spoiled rich kid, again, grasping at straws on how to connect with the people around him, “You might spill your tea.”
Walter's whimsical mess was disastrous all the more as he sat panting in the back of his mind at some joke he could barely remember. His hand messed with one of his wrist watches, “Of course, I'm just so excited.” His excitement was a flaw, and it would probably be the death of him as it drained his energy as he aged. However, the sin was merely a missed mark he could not afford to correct. A chloroform perfume of sorts might be myth to help. “Thank you for joining us, Chris and Alyssana, especially, a-after this afternoon. It is such a pleasure.”
I like @Briza.
𝓐 quiet perfume from the orchard,
𝓪pple blossom and acacia. . .
Of course, the answer was right there. The words were neatly and nicely pressed and typed across the pages of the almanac. Finnegan smirked, preoccupied with his own selfish endeavors and was unable to properly see the one that was in so badly need of assessment.
Meanwhile, Lady Alysanna straightened herself, assessing her clothes intuitively. Their simplicity fell without any derangement as did her hair. She was simple, and her simplicity made finding the exact things that he needed in life much easier. He was always concerned, as was part of his business, mind you, about the frivolous parts of life. He watched lazily as she began to pace the room back-and-forth, but he still kept his posture. Eventually, though, he slid into his chair again.
The maroon cushion was velvet beneath him, and the arms were styled with a lion head carved in wood. The style was a 1600's wing chair, and was not very popular in appearance, but the uniqueness caught Finnegan's eye once while at an antique shop. It was the 1720's that had intrigued the audience when the wing chair became popular. Nonetheless, this particular chair commanded its own respect amongst the other chairs that remained in the study.
His thumb fiddled with his ring finger as he allowed Lady Alyssana to take the lead. Her impassableness was why he had chosen her to help him with the case. Why, he had thought of simply (not the simply that was used earlier in this commentary) to bide his time easily with Walter, but Walter, as everyone knows could not even stomach a trip to Madame Sophronia's Papillon Tea Room. Everything was too sporadic for Walter. The man could barely find his way to his breakfast in the morning. He felt for his younger brother, but it was clearly an obvious implication of hi travesties when dealing with reality.
“I say, let us get some Tea and head to the Library,” he could make two winks with the same eye ad gesture. Lady Alysanna also ignored his question of wanting any refreshment. She was someone who could easily get caught in her studies, as she was now, and even if she had only arrived half an hour earlier from the shenanigans that had prescribed themselves already, he felt she needed a true break, “It is about tea time, after all.” After a small time he added, “Perhaps, Christopher and Walter would care to join us.”
𝓪pple blossom and acacia. . .
Of course, the answer was right there. The words were neatly and nicely pressed and typed across the pages of the almanac. Finnegan smirked, preoccupied with his own selfish endeavors and was unable to properly see the one that was in so badly need of assessment.
Meanwhile, Lady Alysanna straightened herself, assessing her clothes intuitively. Their simplicity fell without any derangement as did her hair. She was simple, and her simplicity made finding the exact things that he needed in life much easier. He was always concerned, as was part of his business, mind you, about the frivolous parts of life. He watched lazily as she began to pace the room back-and-forth, but he still kept his posture. Eventually, though, he slid into his chair again.
The maroon cushion was velvet beneath him, and the arms were styled with a lion head carved in wood. The style was a 1600's wing chair, and was not very popular in appearance, but the uniqueness caught Finnegan's eye once while at an antique shop. It was the 1720's that had intrigued the audience when the wing chair became popular. Nonetheless, this particular chair commanded its own respect amongst the other chairs that remained in the study.
His thumb fiddled with his ring finger as he allowed Lady Alyssana to take the lead. Her impassableness was why he had chosen her to help him with the case. Why, he had thought of simply (not the simply that was used earlier in this commentary) to bide his time easily with Walter, but Walter, as everyone knows could not even stomach a trip to Madame Sophronia's Papillon Tea Room. Everything was too sporadic for Walter. The man could barely find his way to his breakfast in the morning. He felt for his younger brother, but it was clearly an obvious implication of hi travesties when dealing with reality.
“I say, let us get some Tea and head to the Library,” he could make two winks with the same eye ad gesture. Lady Alysanna also ignored his question of wanting any refreshment. She was someone who could easily get caught in her studies, as she was now, and even if she had only arrived half an hour earlier from the shenanigans that had prescribed themselves already, he felt she needed a true break, “It is about tea time, after all.” After a small time he added, “Perhaps, Christopher and Walter would care to join us.”
. . . 𝓓ead men float.
𝓛ast night. 𝓘t was glorious, ecstatic. . .
𝓛ast night. 𝓘t was glorious, ecstatic. . .
The green button with a plus sign has been pressed.
Coo'.
I'm game either way.
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