Member
wanderingwolf
hanzo
Sp00ki
mickilennial
Majoraa
Choking on Mud
TaintedMushroom
McNephelim
Carlylei have very little actual fucking plot i just want to give my robby character some attention
Going to try one final gambit here.
So would anyone possibly be interested in playing a big sister sort of figure for him? Obviously if you wanted him to be related his surname is changeable.
__
Tears.
Tears flowed down Robert "Robby" Henshaw's cheeks at an alarming rate as he sat at his desk, head in his arms and sobs passing his lips as he trembled like a leaf in the wind. His long, blonde hair cascaded over, hiding his features from anybody whom dared to enter the small male's bedroom.
After a moment more of silent sobs, his head lifted upon hearing someone enter his bedroom. His bottom lip was still quivering, his pale face stained with tears, his cheeks red and standing out rather starkly against the rest of his features. His nose had run too whilst sobbing, and the poor boy looked distraught. Nothing was said by him, his big eyes studying the other person's features through his own tears.
It was 6 am, barely the time to be in such a wound up state as he currently was. But given the events of last night, and the fact he'd not slept a wink.. there was good reason for this. His sobs grew more desperate and despairing once more, as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his hair. It came off in his hand with surprising ease as he hurled it to the floor as though disgusted with himself. His natural hair was revealed, short and brown locks which he hated with a passion too.
He clenched his tiny hands into a fist, letting out a heartbreaking wail as his hands relaxed, recalling the events of last night with horror and reluctance in equal measure.
--Last Night--
Standing in front of a tall mirror, Robert bit his bottom lip slightly as a frown began to play upon his delicate features. Petite in build, he'd always liked to dress in what would be considered as traditionally feminine clothing, though he'd not done so properly in a good number of years.
His mother and father had always insisted it was just a phase he was going through, despite his own protests that he liked what he wore more than the masculine hand me downs from his older brothers. He had always felt much happier when wearing skirts, dresses and tank tops then he did in more masculine clothing, but had long given up on trying to obtain and wear such items. As miserable as it often made him feel, he knew the stress and anxiety others put him under would eventually make him feel much worse.
Tracing a finger across a small temporary cat tattoo across his left shoulder, he turned his attention to a bag upon the floor. Inside were a few items he'd purchased with his own money, to try and feed his desires and his curiosity. Picking out a black, knee-length skirt, his fingers ran across the material with a smile upon his lips. He'd not gone for leather or anything that would be viewed as sexualising how he dressed or felt, but rather a simple cotton piece.
Slipping it over his bare legs and up to his waist, he instantly felt better. This suited him to a tee, and he was starting to feel beautiful again. Next came a cute white tank top, a picture of a panda printed upon it. He found this to be utterly adorable, and felt it went perfectly with his skirt. Pink, lacy ankle socks were next, adding a little splash of colour to his outfit. Shoes were yet to be obtained, something to come at a later date.
Smiling again, he ran fingers through his silky, blonde and delicate wig. He'd certainly have to seek out some make up tips eventually, though the fact he was naturally androgynous looking and on the "cute side" helped to sell him as being a woman. Grabbing his phone, he couldn't help but snap a few selfies. He felt good about himself for the first time in years, and wished he could show it off to someone for once.
During all of this though, two things hadn't occurred to him. The first was a simple error, in that his phone currently failed to lock correctly unless the button was pressed and held down for between 7 and 10 seconds.
The second, and most fatal mistake, was the fact his older brothers both had easy access to his bedroom at most times. They'd not been home whilst Robby was indulging himself in his new outfit, so the idea that anybody would discover him in this getup certainly wasn't a factor in his current thoughts. He was much too focused on getting his clothes just right! Not that he planned to wear them long at all.
Leaving the main part of his bedroom to head into the en-suite bathroom he had, any sounds from his bedroom would soon be drowned out by the running water of the shower, and his own (Admittedly quite tuneful) singing.
As such, he didn't hear his older brothers entering his room, nor the malicious laughter or comments coming as they copied his recent selfies across to the phones they owned. He most certainly wasn't currently aware of the fact they were uploading the images to Facebook, Instagram or Twitter either, where friends of both them and himself would soon be able to see them.
In fact, he'd not been aware of this until sometime later, when he'd discovered the images upon checking his own Facebook feed. A horrible sinking feeling washed over him upon first catching sight, dread and nausea washing over him as he scrolled slowly down. Not even daring to glance at the reactions, the number of comments hit him with a new pang of terror.
150 in the last two hours alone. Not wishing to read them, he lay upon his bed. Sleep would never come that night, and he lay awake listening to the sounds of messages and notifications, daring not to check a single one, yet unable to bring himself to log off. It was as though he was punishing himself for being vain enough to take the images. (Despite vanity being something he'd never indulged in!)
Going to try one final gambit here.
So would anyone possibly be interested in playing a big sister sort of figure for him? Obviously if you wanted him to be related his surname is changeable.
__
Tears.
Tears flowed down Robert "Robby" Henshaw's cheeks at an alarming rate as he sat at his desk, head in his arms and sobs passing his lips as he trembled like a leaf in the wind. His long, blonde hair cascaded over, hiding his features from anybody whom dared to enter the small male's bedroom.
After a moment more of silent sobs, his head lifted upon hearing someone enter his bedroom. His bottom lip was still quivering, his pale face stained with tears, his cheeks red and standing out rather starkly against the rest of his features. His nose had run too whilst sobbing, and the poor boy looked distraught. Nothing was said by him, his big eyes studying the other person's features through his own tears.
It was 6 am, barely the time to be in such a wound up state as he currently was. But given the events of last night, and the fact he'd not slept a wink.. there was good reason for this. His sobs grew more desperate and despairing once more, as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his hair. It came off in his hand with surprising ease as he hurled it to the floor as though disgusted with himself. His natural hair was revealed, short and brown locks which he hated with a passion too.
He clenched his tiny hands into a fist, letting out a heartbreaking wail as his hands relaxed, recalling the events of last night with horror and reluctance in equal measure.
--Last Night--
Standing in front of a tall mirror, Robert bit his bottom lip slightly as a frown began to play upon his delicate features. Petite in build, he'd always liked to dress in what would be considered as traditionally feminine clothing, though he'd not done so properly in a good number of years.
His mother and father had always insisted it was just a phase he was going through, despite his own protests that he liked what he wore more than the masculine hand me downs from his older brothers. He had always felt much happier when wearing skirts, dresses and tank tops then he did in more masculine clothing, but had long given up on trying to obtain and wear such items. As miserable as it often made him feel, he knew the stress and anxiety others put him under would eventually make him feel much worse.
Tracing a finger across a small temporary cat tattoo across his left shoulder, he turned his attention to a bag upon the floor. Inside were a few items he'd purchased with his own money, to try and feed his desires and his curiosity. Picking out a black, knee-length skirt, his fingers ran across the material with a smile upon his lips. He'd not gone for leather or anything that would be viewed as sexualising how he dressed or felt, but rather a simple cotton piece.
Slipping it over his bare legs and up to his waist, he instantly felt better. This suited him to a tee, and he was starting to feel beautiful again. Next came a cute white tank top, a picture of a panda printed upon it. He found this to be utterly adorable, and felt it went perfectly with his skirt. Pink, lacy ankle socks were next, adding a little splash of colour to his outfit. Shoes were yet to be obtained, something to come at a later date.
Smiling again, he ran fingers through his silky, blonde and delicate wig. He'd certainly have to seek out some make up tips eventually, though the fact he was naturally androgynous looking and on the "cute side" helped to sell him as being a woman. Grabbing his phone, he couldn't help but snap a few selfies. He felt good about himself for the first time in years, and wished he could show it off to someone for once.
During all of this though, two things hadn't occurred to him. The first was a simple error, in that his phone currently failed to lock correctly unless the button was pressed and held down for between 7 and 10 seconds.
The second, and most fatal mistake, was the fact his older brothers both had easy access to his bedroom at most times. They'd not been home whilst Robby was indulging himself in his new outfit, so the idea that anybody would discover him in this getup certainly wasn't a factor in his current thoughts. He was much too focused on getting his clothes just right! Not that he planned to wear them long at all.
Leaving the main part of his bedroom to head into the en-suite bathroom he had, any sounds from his bedroom would soon be drowned out by the running water of the shower, and his own (Admittedly quite tuneful) singing.
As such, he didn't hear his older brothers entering his room, nor the malicious laughter or comments coming as they copied his recent selfies across to the phones they owned. He most certainly wasn't currently aware of the fact they were uploading the images to Facebook, Instagram or Twitter either, where friends of both them and himself would soon be able to see them.
In fact, he'd not been aware of this until sometime later, when he'd discovered the images upon checking his own Facebook feed. A horrible sinking feeling washed over him upon first catching sight, dread and nausea washing over him as he scrolled slowly down. Not even daring to glance at the reactions, the number of comments hit him with a new pang of terror.
150 in the last two hours alone. Not wishing to read them, he lay upon his bed. Sleep would never come that night, and he lay awake listening to the sounds of messages and notifications, daring not to check a single one, yet unable to bring himself to log off. It was as though he was punishing himself for being vain enough to take the images. (Despite vanity being something he'd never indulged in!)