Rp and me. (The things I get made to feel bad about in rp.)
Sorry, I’m a lousy writer. Sorry, I write too well. Sorry if you think I’m an idiot. Sorry if I daunt you. Sorry if I feel lost trying to figure this all out! Sorry if I’m the wrong sex. Sorry, I am straight. Sorry if I don’t sugar-coat. Sorry, I’m honest. Sorry I won’t lie. Sorry if I act too nice. Sorry, you think I’m a pushover. Sorry, I’m not a pushover. Sorry, I respect you. Sorry, I’m not worth your respect. Sorry if I don’t do drama. Sorry I won’t play your games. Sorry, I’m so easy to blame. Sorry I won’t JUST partner you. Sorry, I only partner with chemistry. Sorry, I am not elite enough. Sorry I am friendly. Sorry I work too much. Sorry I get tired. Sorry, I seem too confident. Sorry, I doubt myself. Sorry, I go quiet. Sorry, I’m not good enough for you. Sorry, I should be a better man. Sorry, I’m not an ass. Sorry, I am an ass. Sorry, sometimes I struggle. Sorry, I forgot. I don’t count. Sorry THEY are always more important. Sorry, YOU are always more important. Sorry, I forget all these things I do wrong. Sorry I need to man the f*** up and deal with it! - Right?
Sorry I don’t know what the f*** I’m doing because of it all, or where and if I even fit in! I feel like I’m drowning.
The French Quarter had always been a hive of activity where tourists flocked in the hundreds looking for a glimpse at a different life. A supernatural one, the odd chance to cross paths with a Witch, drink beside a Werewolf within a local bar, or be stalked by something more sinister at night; when the locals had left the Quarter, retreating to the safety of their homes…
For most, it was all just a myth! It was a fun way to add a little excitement or a thill, to their dull and dreary lives. They never truly believed it was real. They liked the fantasy. The thought of fear while remaining relatively safe. And while they partied hard to the wild notes of tuba, sax, trumpet and trombone; which rattled and hummed out from the doorways of vibrant bars and restaurant’s scattered all throughout the French Quarter, to add a sultry if not secretive seduction to the moist and heavily scented night air…
They never noticed what was hidden in plain sight.
They never noticed the group of French Quarter Witches walking west down along Bourbon street and why should they have. They were not dressed in black with ghoulish attire; if anything, they looked no different to the young couple who strolled hand in hand with the promise of their future strung like stars in their eyes; Or the group of party revellers, clowning around, laughing as they joked and jeered each other and the crowd upon the corner of Bourbon and St Louis Street.
Kol watched the Witches disappear around the bend and up along St Louis Street. He’d been deliberating with a night of fun and feasting, yet as he sat at the bar twisting his glass between his fingers so the dregs of bourbon pushed the melting ice to clink in crescendos against the side of the glass; he decided he suddenly didn’t feel so famished after all. Silently he rested the glass upon the worn wood of bars surface and rose, pushing back the barstool with his leg as he rummaged through his jeans pocket. Producing a crumpled twenty-dollar bill he tossed it onto the bar next to the empty glass and turned making his way to the door.
He’d heard upon the grapevine that the Witches had planned to do a ritual. A basic one meant to promote goodwill and positivity for the coming HexFest. It was something they did every year. But this year was different from every other. This year he was back, and un-daggered in New Orleans! This year, he had every intent on getting on the good side of the Witches. It had been his plan since Davina had brought him back from the dead. To have magic, and feel it course through his body once again. He’d had it for a while, only to have it stripped away just as quick by Finn and his bloody hex. It had felt worse than actually dying... It had only fuelled Kol’s desire, to find a spell; anyway, any loophole possible to restoring the powers he had lost when Ester and Mikeal had turned his Brothers, Sister and him into the monsters they had become. And then, if he was successful, he might be able to bring Davina back from the dead too.
As Kol stepped out onto the corner of Bourbon and St Louis, the Witches were no longer anywhere to be seen, but it didn’t take a genius to know exactly where they were headed! Kol’s lips curved into the beginnings of a smirk, and he set forth in a brisk walk along St Louis Street, towards N Rampart Street, from there it was a hop and jump to the St Louis 1st Cemetery. And by the time he got there… With any luck, they’d be just about ready to begin their Ceremony and he intended to have a front-row seat.
But that all changed, within minutes…
He’d barely made it to ‘N Rampart’ when a shrill scream cut through the sounds of the surging traffic ahead. Before the next scream had even the chance to resonate within the thick humid air; Kol had disappeared. Propelling himself forward, faster than the naked eye could fathom; he crossed the busy N Rampart street, dodging the oncoming traffic in both directions as if it was barely moving. And as the ball of his right foot pressed hard upon the dirty bitumen curb, he launched his body upwards into the air: propelling himself forward to scale the decaying brick wall that bordered the cemetery in a single bound.
Nimbly he landed in a crouch, upon the top of a crumbling mausoleum and gazed out across dark and formidable cemetery. It looked like a war zone! Random eruptions of mud and dirt exploding up and outwards into the air, followed by the blood-curdling screams, of the witches as the dirt and debris pelted back down like a torrential rain of mud upon them. It encased them instantly. Halting any possible escape! It was as if the dirt, the mud was gifted with a life, a force of its own.
He watched repulsed, as the dirt and debris then gathered forming tendrils of mud that creped and slithered like vines down across the decaying tombs. It pooled around the trapped witches’ feet and legs before slithering in circles upwards like a python; wrapping its body around its intended prey. He watched as the creature, the Golem slowly, intently began to swallow one after another of the witches whole…He watched as each of the witches were lined head to toe to become a part of a giant anaconda’s body and he knew he knew there was no way he could stop it. Not unless he knew who was controlling the Golem. Not unless he knew the reason that they had summoned it!
----Half an hour later in Algiers----
The old warehouse on Bouny Street seemed deserted at first glance. But Kol knew better! He knew that Marcel Gerald had an army of new Vampires, most of which he kept close by, just in case something should ever happen that he would need them; his loyal followers to be at his beck and call. He could feel their eyes upon him as he pulled the solid steel roller door of the warehouse open. And he ignored their angry whispers as he entered and made his way to the stairwell to take the steps leading up in twos.
“Marcel! I know you’re in here! I can hear you bloody breathing!” Kol yelled impatiently as he got to the top of the landing and let his gaze travel across the sparsely decorated common room. “If you’re responsible for what happened to the Witches, then I want to why! And if it’s not you… then we’ve got big trouble!” Irritated he glared at the newly turned woman lounging sullenly across the couch and smirked, tilting his head coldly, “You best clear off love! This might get a little bit nasty.” But before he could continue he heard the familiar footsteps of Marcel appearing at the top of the narrow set of stairs in the far end of the room, which led to his private quarters….
I watched them every day. Willing them, to just say my name. I wanted to mean something. I wanted to be thought about. To not be forgotten. I wanted to scream. Scream so loud that they would turn: look for what had startled them. Look for me.
They never did.
I wanted to cry. To smash or tear apart anything, everything I could get my hands on. I wanted them to hurt. To rip them apart, one by one, until they saw me. Until they saw my pain. I wanted them to hurt like I was hurting. Just once to remember me. I wanted them to miss me!
They never did.
I watched them.
I watched them every day. My Family. My Brothers, my Sisters. I wished they loved me like they loved each other. I wished I’d meant something… I hurt so much when I watched them. I’d wanted so much to be one of them. One, of their always and forever. Why had they never seen it? My heart felt as if it was constantly being clawed apart, ripped open from the inside out. It was the worst horror in this place. The dull dead ache of emptiness. Of meaning nothing, to no one. Not the dead Witches wraith, those hell-bent upon their quest to torture me. Not at first...I almost welcomed their malice. The pain they inflicted upon me.
It gave me moments of peace from my own thoughts.
Moments where the endless, emptiness: the overwhelming sadness didn’t feel like it would consume me. I’d begged the Witches to end me, to shatter my soul into a thousand tiny pieces. To do their worst! I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.
But that was when they had come to realise, the only way to put me through pain; to truly torture me, was to show me life.
The life I was missing with my family. A family, who never once missed me. A family who forgot me a day after I'd died. Who never needed me, as I needed them. I wondered if any of them had ever felt true loneliness. Its hollow grasp as it eats away any warmth: any hope you carry deep inside. I wondered if they ever felt that empty, a husk of someone who should have mattered. A soul bursting with unshed tears; and yet unable to shed a single one. I could help them. I could have helped them so many times. I could have been there for them. I could have been so much more if they had let me feel like I belonged. If they had tried just once to understand my pain. I wanted so badly to reach out, to place my hand upon their shoulders: and have them turn. Welcome me with a smile, and say my name. I wanted them to love me then. I wanted them to love me now.
I hated them. I hated this nightmare. I hated being dead. It was my biggest fear.
'Come little Children' (Starter for Landon SEC ) (and or anyone else at Salvatore school who wishes to partake in it.)
“What were you bloody thinking?” Kol demanded, turning momentarily to glance back at Landon. “Well done Mate! You must be the biggest idiot in this school! Didn’t your other bloody teachers or Alaric ever teach about the risk of buying objects that entrance you at first site… especially from bloody deceased estate garage sales?” He didn’t wait for Landon to answer. Instead, as soon as Kol saw the boy shrug and open his mouth to respond, he cut him off. “Were you really that stupid, did you really have no idea what this is? I mean what bloody idiot goes to a garage sale, finds an enchanted painting and thinks sweet, I’ll buy that! Let’s see how many of the kids at my school I can get killed off with it, or put in danger!! ”
He should throttle him! He certainly felt like it and again Kol found himself wondering ‘How the bloody hell Alaric did it. Day in, day out of putting up with silly little kids who constantly invited the bloody devil in to play with them!’
Breathing in deep Kol closed his eyes, willing himself within his mind to quell his anger. It was too late now. It had already started. Now what mattered was finding a way to get them all out safely before it was too late! Slowly Kol released the breath he’d been unconsciously holding and turned to look back at the painting. It all made sense now. Why some of the students had disappeared. They’d thought they had run away, and so Alaric had gone off in a bid to find them before they brought danger upon themselves or anyone else! No one had even considered that they would be in plain sight! Trapped within the flowers of a painting!
The garden was painted so beautifully upon the canvas. It looked so serene and magical, so inviting almost like stepping into a fairy tale. The shadow of a woman tending lovingly, to the garden. And the sunflowers! The sunflowers some still in bud; but other slowly beginning to unfurl their petals. Like bright yellow borders surrounding the missing kid's heads. Kol leaned closer, inspecting the painting in detail. The kid’s eyes were still closed. That was good! It meant that they were unaware. And how many buds were left unopened? Four! Would that give them enough time?
A thousand things were going through Kol’s head as he turned and made his way across Alaric’s office to where Landon was sat upon the edge of his seat. He could see at a glance the boy was scared stiff. Worried for his friends and rightly so! Purposely Kol leaned back to sit upon the edge of Alaric’s desk and face the boy before he asked. “Have you ever heard of a Gello?” Again Kol didn’t wait for Landon to reply, instead, continuing, “Forget what you think you might know about them if indeed you know anything.” He paused as his forehead etched into a frown thinking of the best way to explain to Landon how dire the situation truly was.
“When I was a child growing up within our small village, the full moon wasn’t the only thing we had to fear.” He finally began… “Some would say it was a fairy tale, a myth. But nothing truly is make-believe, we are the perfect example of that” again Kol continued extending his hands towards Landon in the emphasis of his point about fairy tales and myths. “We were brought up to fear fairies, well… a certain type of fairy. She would appear as a fair maiden, more beautiful than a summer’s day; while you slept at night. She comes in your dreams when you are most vulnerable. A beautiful Fairy Princess, with an irresistible offer to explore a magic kingdom! She lures you out into the forest till you reach her cottage, where she will extend her hand, for you to walk with her through her garden…” Kol paused, glancing back to the painting to wonder if the opening buds had not opened a little more since he had begun his tale.
“We were told to run if we saw her in our dreams! We were told to never, under any circumstance, take her hand! Because when you did, she will reap your soul! She will lead you into her garden which will rise to swallow you whole! Your body will be buried alive! Sustained by a sacred circle she has created somewhere within the forest! – That is what her garden is! A Bloody dinner table!! The Gello will then nurture you, sustain your life-force in the form of a flower until she has accumulated enough life force to sustain her for the next hundred years.” Kol paused as he reached up to rub his temple in frustration.
“She preys on kids because as the myth goes, she was unable to have her own children. Cursed at her mortal birth by air, water and fire, for great evil they sensed within her. Only earth took pity upon her, and so the Earth is easily manipulated, bent to her will. The earth within her circle will keep those who fall to her will alive within the flowers; giving her the chance to be as a mother. Giving her the chance to nurture them as she would her own child. But that is not enough for the Gello! She needs to sustain her own existence, pretty much like a vampire I guess you could say, except her life is bound to an object- a trinket detailing a garden or a bloody painting!” Kol frowned as he indicated to the painting behind them and continued.
“We can’t destroy it. If we do, we destroy her circle before we find out where she has buried your friends and they die alongside her! They will suffocate within minutes! We can’t allow her to claim anyone else either. Each flower that opens is another victim she has claimed, and when all of the sunflower buds open, they will slowly begin to die! She will begin to feed upon their life-forces to sustain her. And once the flowers in that painting begin to wither and go to seed, it’s too late! Your friend’s souls will be shattered into a thousand small pieces, where the Wind will release them from her will far across the land. That is if Water or Fire, do not get to them first!” Kol concluded rising from where he’s sat upon the edge of the desk, to turn and make his way back to the painting.
“Searching the forest will take too long. We’ll never find the kids in time and we can’t allow her to take anyone else, while they sleep. If we create a protective barrier around the school, it won’t help us. She’ll just extend her reaches to the town and Mystic Falls won’t know what’s hit them! We need to get inside that picture! It acts as a window. From here we can only see her garden. From within it, hopefully, we should be able to see what surrounds it!” Pausing Kol reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone and turned to face Landon once again. “We’re going to need some very strong Witches, a foolproof spell to get us in and out of the picture, and a lot of bloody luck that hopefully we don’t get caught by the Gello while we’re within it!” He surmised as his brow arched with a half grimaced, grin as he continued. “ What are you waiting for, you bloody idiot! This is where you go get Hope and the Saltzman twins and any other bloody powerful witch you can find, while I contact Freya to see if she can come up with a suitable spell for our needs!”
Waving his hand Kol ushered Landon towards the office door, while he speed-dialled Freya…..
The sun glinted through the soft swaying eaves; shimmering upon the boughs laden with autumns leaves in orange and gold. The Wold was dying. The gradual descent into winter had already begun and yet Kol wished that the warmth of summer would linger just a while longer. In summer, the days were longer, the sun was warmer and food… It always seemed plenty. Mikael, his Father, always seemed happier in summer. Maybe it was because of the sun. The warmth that lightened even the heaviest of steps… Maybe it was just that the village was a happier place in summer.
The fear of the night. Of the full moon… it was never as long as in the winter… He had decided long ago, that one day… When he had mastered his Mother’s craft, he would create a spell! A spell so strong as to stop winter coming at all! Maybe he could even stop the moon! Maybe that would make Mikael happy? It would make the village happy! And no one would have to live in fear again! It made him smile.
Finn would say he was being childish, that such a feat was impossible. And maybe it was… But Elijah would say to let him dream, for nothing was truly ever impossible! Niklaus, he would urge him on. He would urge him to find a spell that would temper the steel wraith of their Father and Rebekah, she would undoubtedly ask him to make her love potions! She was always so insecure and yet she one of the prettiest girls in the village! It was why Mikael had Ester, their mother watch her so. And then there was Henrik… Slowly the smile faded from Kol’s face. What if he mastered the craft before him? What if his younger brother proved to be stronger than him? Where would then, his place be? Neither the oldest nor the youngest. Never to be a ‘konungr’ of their village like Finn, or a warrior like Elijah. He would always be a lesser son…A lesser brother!
Slowly Kol lay back in the long grass, as Henrik’s smiling face swept across his thoughts. He loved his brother. He knew that to be the truth, for there had never been a day, which he had wished ill upon him. And yet that was the problem. The years were slowly creeping past. And with each winter it drew the closer to the time he would have to prove himself. That he would have to pack away his childhood follies; and take his place within the Village. To show his value, to his Father and his brothers, as a man equal to them.
The leafs overhead shimmered glistening subtly like diamonds or gold and he wondered how long it would be until the first leaf fell. “It may be well that you will never see it”… Softly a voice whispered through the swaying leaves and Kol felt his heart jump within his chest. It pounded as he sat up and looked about himself. There was no one watching him from behind the trunks of trees. There was no one sitting in the long grass beside him… Slowly he rose to his feet and turned to search the land around him wondering if he had imagined it, the strange voice; for surely he was alone!
“Are you afraid? Lesser son of Mikael?”
The voice whispered tauntingly again. And Kol felt like his heart would explode at any moment from fear. “What sort of Witchcraft is this?” He demanded, trying his hardest not to let his fear show. “Show yourself Witch!” Clenching his fists, Kol wished he was stronger. He wished that he had his Mother’s powers, or that he had his Fathers sword; for a cold slow dread had crept like a shadow through his thoughts, and somehow even though the sun still shone brightly overhead; Even though its rays still speckled the swaying leaves in glistening gemstones; The Wold had lost it warmth.
“Who are you?” He heard himself yell and wished he didn’t sound so frantic. Why couldn’t he have sounded like Mikeal or even Elijah. Why couldn’t he have sounded like Niklaus! A soft chuckle taunted him. It seemed to come from everywhere. Every direction at once and yet, from nowhere! It seemed to come from inside him, like the ice-cold touch of dread that set the hairs upon his arms to rise and caused his mouth to dry, making it hard to swallow.
“I work in silence I work with a great noise I cause many tears I relieve all suffering”
The voice whispered so close, that Kol should have felt its breath upon his ear, instead all he felt was fear.
“I am dreaded by most I am sought by some I often creep up slowly No one escapes me”
Again the voice whispered and Kol felt the world about him begin to spin. He felt his brow break into a sweat; cold and clammy.
For some whom I visit Comes peace everlasting? For others eternal damnation? I know not for I have never died. I am Death”
“But I am not dead!” Kol stuttered, and yet his voice barely made it past his lips. “Why are you here? Why do you taunt me so Hela? I have barely begun to live! This cannot be my end! I feel my heart! It beats strongly still within my chest!” He wasn’t sure if he was pleading with her. He wasn’t sure if he was even still breathing. Somehow the world around him had all turned to shadows of grey. Somehow the sun had stopped shinning. And the breeze that had moments before, danced amidst the eaves, now lay still.
“Tell me Kol Mikaelson. Tell me this… What is your life worth? What cost would you be willing to pay?” She was taunting him. He could almost feel her gloat in the air about him! It was some sort of sick joke! Maybe it wasn’t real! Maybe it was Dahlia? Their Mothers sister…Their Mother had always said to be careful. To watch out for her, that she could never be trusted. It had always made him wonder if she had been responsible for their older sister Freya’s death, for his Mother would never openly speak about it and she had died before he was born.
“This is not funny! Stop it! Stop it now!!” He yelled,, and turned angrily in a circle hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that was playing this God forsaken prank upon him! “A life for a life…If not you, then who, son of Mikael…Whose life should I take?”
Stop, stop, “STOP!” Kol screamed, seeing the spittle fly from his mouth as he dropped to his knees! “Why does anyone have to die? Why can’t we all live! Why can’t I live...” He demanded, wondering when his anger had turned back into fear as he felt his tears, as they made their way down his cheeks. They were not warm, they felt ice cold. “It is the way of all things… If not you, then someone you love, Kol Mikaelson… Who will die?” Hel’s voice taunted at his despair.
“Will they be safe…Will they all get to live if I die?” He heard himself sob, wondering how or when it had all become a bargain, a deal to be made with the devil; as one by one, his family’s smiling faces swept momentarily through his thoughts. “Live? Perhaps a week, a year or maybe just a day…it does not matter” The voice trailed softly into silence.
“It matters to me! You ask me to sacrifice myself so they might live!! But you cannot tell me for how long??” Kol felt his voice crack and reached up clutching his head in anguish. He had to stop the voice. He had to stop this spell, this nightmare - whatever it was somehow! It couldn’t be real! It couldn’t! Why him! Why now!
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I WILL NOT CHOOSE!" He screamed again, dropping back onto his back in the long grass and closed his eyes; willing with any strength he had left for the Wold to return to normal. “But you will Kol Mikaelson…You will, and maybe, you will get to live forever.. ” The voice softly taunted once again, as Kol felt the soft and subtle touch of something drop to lightly brush against his hands as they covered his face. Fearfully he eased his fingers apart, only to be blinded by the dimming afternoon sun. Quickly, he lowered his hands to his sides and sat up; feeling the crunch of an autumn’s leaf beneath his palm. It had begun. Winter would soon be upon them, It only fed the fear that already bored within his thoughts.
Had it all been a dream? Had it not been real? Slowly he rose to his feet. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the drum. It was the warning for the villagers, that the time to take shelter within the caves had come. It was the warning that this night would herald a full moon. A dreaded full moon! Quickly he turned; he had to meet his family in the cave. He had to get there before the dark claimed the land, yet he could not escape the dread, the fear that still lingered upon him as he made his way through the forest to the cave. He couldn’t stop the images of his family, his Mother, his Father, his Sister and his Brothers that kept creeping into his mind. He couldn’t stop the voice that continued to whisper upon his ear…
The constant chatter coming from Lizzy Saltzman, Kol had tuned out to; not long after the blonde bombshell had taken his arm, intent on leading him to Alaric, her Fathers office. But he hadn't banked on her waiting outside Alaric's office door for him, or that she would pick up where she had left off! He wondered how much she'd been able to hear, but suffice to say, it didn't take him long to conclude it couldn't have been much from the way she immediately tried to loop her arm around his once again.
It made Kol smile. She still had no idea who he was. Or how dangerous. It made him wonder how she would feel when she found out. Would she still be overly receptive, or would she suddenly be compelled by repulsion, like so many others he had met over the years? She was so absorbed in him, she hadn't even noticed her Father or the fact that he'd gone on ahead, he could have been leading her virtually anywhere and the girl wouldn't have noticed, at least not until it was too late. No wonder they had been having so many problems in the school. If most of the students were like Lizzie, ready to ignore all of their warning senses for a smile; An arm to hold onto... Then they were indeed doomed, and maybe getting Hope out of there would be the best and only option.
"Tell me, Lizzie, you're a Witch. Well, aren't you're sense's telling you to run... Repulsing you, by being this close to me yet?" He had to ask. He couldn't help himself. Stopping, Kol turned to look down at Lizzie's face, noticing first a moment of confusion and then....recognition... There it was! Her instincts, the warning bells that she was close to danger. A vampire! One she didn't know or should trust. "Shall we call that your first lesson?" Kol couldn't help but smirk, though he had to give her points for being fiery, acting tough as she declared, 'that it didn't phase her. That some of her closest friends were vampires.'
"Ahh, but not like me, love!"
He'd barely got the words out of his mouth when the sound of hurried footsteps upon the staircase drew his attention. He'd of known them anywhere. He'd of known that scent. It was one he'd never forget! One he'd happily die trying to protect! Impulsively Kol turned and stepped forward to greet his niece, as she welcomed him.
“Lizzie—this is my uncle Kol…which I’m sure you’ve gathered,” She laughed.
“Uncle Kol—I’m so happy to have you here for the day,”
Kol couldn't help it! He had to sneak a sideways glance at Lizzie's face as he reached out to pull Hope into his embrace. And it was worth every moment of her endless chatter he'd endured!
Grinning he turned to look down on Hope's face. "There's no place I'd rather be! Look at you, 'my favourite little niece' all grown up!" Kol frowned and lifted his hand to brush it tenderly across Hope's cheek. "I have missed you so much! Though I think there is a possibility that you may get sick of me." He continued breaking into a grin. "It seems I'm staying for longer than a day! At least until the Necromancer is caught! I am the substitute teacher for Witchcraft!"
Gently Kol released Hope from his hug as he continued, "Aunty Freya, thought I'd be better able to help, less destructible- or possibly more expendable shall we say.." He shrugged and continued. "So how about you? What say you show me to my room. Then you can tell me everything that's been happening here while you help me unpack?" Gently Kol draped his arm around Hopes shoulders as they headed back towards the large ornate staircase that led up from the main hall: to the sleeping quarters in the Salvatore's School for the young and gifted.
There was much they had to discuss, but first Kol needed to know everything that had been happening, not the half-truths and played down scenarios, he was sure Alaric had told him within his office.
He needed to know exactly what they were up against!
Maybe its because I've just come out of a sh*t weekend in here, or that I'm fed the f*** up with being spoken down to like I'm an idiot. Or maybe its just people just *assuming sh*t* because of my gender. But I'm tired, so f***ing tired of it all! No. I'm not having a gripe! I'm not pointing any fingers either.
Instead, I'm just gonna be honest and lay down some ground rules from the start.
*Before we start.*
I'm not here for Drama or egotistical hypocrites who think they are higher up the ladder the rest of us in rp.- if that is you, then you won't like me and I won't like you. In simple, we won't get along.
I'm here for fun. To explore ideas with mutual minded people, write and have a laugh.
Yes! I am a straight bloke in rl! That doesn't mean I'm just looking for smut. That I'm bad news -or that I am less of a writer then the lovely women around us all. It means at times our opinions may vary. (Aka our outlook on stuff) I will always respect your opinions so, you, in turn, try to respect mine.
Treat me with the same respect that you would like to be treated with. It's simple! Don't assume sh*t, or look down on me because of my gender. ( aka-think I'm stupid! Would you like it? if people spoke to you like it?) It's f***ing insulting! Ask me instead.
I honestly don't care about beliefs ( religion) or you're sexual orientation -aka- if you're gay, bi, lesbian, or any of the other sexual orientated genders. I don't discriminate! it's simple! ---->You be you, and I'll be me! Don't try using sh*t like that for drama! Because if you do, then you're the one with the problem!- not me.
I work a lot- So I'm not always gonna be here, or at your beck and call. But I will always try to get back to you as soon as I can. 1x1's are limited for that reason also.
To be honest, I prefer group Sl's, for the simple reason I get to write with many, rather than just a select few in the time I have to spend on here.
I don't believe in using people. I believe in real friendships. Making the effort to try to get to know the people I write with. Being there for them when they need a friend - aka I'm very loyal to the friends I make.
I don't do *Ships* or partner just for the sake of it. It's all about chemistry, friendship and respect!
In short, I guess I'm saying respect go's a long way with you, and it does for me too! I don't respond well to rudeness!