Writing or Composing? Sleep or My Future? and More Creative Endeavors.

I got some more batteries for my  keyboard, so I can go back to working on my String Quartet no. 1 in C Major.

Problem is, I'm also doing ScriptFrenzy.

Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, it's not that much of a problem. I'll just go back to composing once I finish my musical. No biggie- OH WAIT. I'M WRITING A FUCKING MUSICAL.

Music + Acting = Musical.

I have to write songs and shit. Forgot about that. Well, I can't spend too much time writing the songs or else I'll get behind on my script and if I wait till April to start writing music again, I won't have time to write my string quartet. Multi-task? Sure. Why don't I just shoot myself in the foot while I'm at it?

(Speaking of shooting people in the leg-area, Cyrus is totally bustin' caps and the kneecaps of one Clockwork!Melanie. I really shouldn't be enjoying it, but I am.)

So, I'm going to be writing a lot of music, which is good because I'm going to need the practice. It doesn't matter so much what kind of song I'm writing so long as I can get the chord progressions under my hands.

I'm listening to Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. Love those guys.

Anyway, I've been having trouble focusing on school. Exhibit A. This blog. I'll do literally anything short of fatal or disfiguring to prolong my oncoming Algebra lesson. I. Hate. Algebra. I didn't think it was possible to hate something so inanimate- a concept, really- as much as I do, but I really hate Algebra. I'm glad this is the last year I'll have to do it. Next is Trig or Pre-Cal which I already know is a bunch of BS. I could use Lit, History, Science, and all that good stuff, but anything beyond rudimentary Mathematics is completely useless to me. I don't need it. Quit forcing it on me- I'm speaking to the Department of Education.

And don't get me started on the frickin' SATs and PSSAs. I live in Pennsylvania, so it's called the PSSA, though you might call it KSSA, CSSA, ISSA, ASSA and so on. It's a standardized test made to get the school who are failing more money and the ones that are pretty well-off just enough money to keep going. Or it's the opposite. I can't remember. I'm going to take the SATs in May, but I won't have to take the PSSAs until my Junior year. I don't think we have to take it as Seniors.

Aaaand there's a newbie running rampant in the Games forums. Jesus fucking Christ. What's so taboo about capitalizing every once in a while?! I don't want NaNo to stress me out 'cause it's supposed to be fun, but it is. It's also probably because I'm using it as a form of procrastination.

Guilt. I hate you. I want to take a nap, but I have my future to worry about even though I'm positive that Curtis won't give a high flying fuck how I did on Algebra. Temple couldn't care less about my Algebra. Pitt? Unlikely. Harvard and Julliard? Probably.

But it all effects my GPA. Goddamn GPA. I had a 3.8 last year or something like that. I'm a smart kid, I just don't give a shit about math.

My current grade is something like three As, three Bs? I just started the last quarter, so it's gonna change a little. Or not. Whatever.

I'm really digging this writing scene, though. I like writing scripts, novels, co-ops and stuff. I've also been drawing using my fancy-dancy new tablet my mom got me with her raise. (She doesn't want me to think I'm her favorite, but she's doing a real crap job at convincing me of that.) I should be expecting a new viola. I'm starting to accept that music performance isn't my path, but learning how music works by performance really helps with composing it. I'm coping.

I need to have a bosom buddy. I'm really lacking in someone to confide in. Hence why, the blog. It's Just Chaos.

Bloody true, that.

Subplots in RPs, Accidentally an Attempted Suicide, and StarKid For Life!

Subplot. More specifically, romantic subplot.

Sometimes, it doesn't always include you and it's hard to incorporate others who may or may not be a less experienced RPer than you into your awesome romantic subplot.

This is what I'm going through. In many a RP, I end up having a romantic subplot with another RPer almost instantly. I dunno what it is. It's like a chain of destiny. It's our destiny for our characters to be destined for one another. Every. Damn. Time. I don't know what to make of it, but it is what it is.

So, in the thick of this awesome romantic subplot, we've had this other less experienced RPer try and tag along with us. For the most part, we've been able to string them along with us in our charrie's passionate throes of passion and firelove, but it's just getting to the point where they're becoming meddlesome and non-participatory. But what else can we do? We're almost done with this particular arc of passion and flaming sun of beautylovefirepassion, but I still feel kinda bad for absorbing the thread with romantic subPLOT. We had an idea, but then our paths diverged and we have half the charries in one spot and half the charries in another spot. There was a point where Newbie's characters were mingling with the other nonflaminglove half of the thread, and ya'll coulda just stayed there, but noooo. It seems to be a thing with Newbies that they feel the need to be in ALL the conversations. No, you don't. Sit down. Act right. No one-liners.

I remember being a Newbie, but I was older than the Newbies that are around now. I got blown away by this one thread, A Big Family, that took off like a freakin' rocket and left me behind in the dust. It was a rocky start, but I pulled through. Now, I've been voted the BEST OVERALL MOTHER-LOVING ROLE-PLAYER. Yeeeeeaaaaah booooiiiiii!!!!

Some people were unhappy with the nominations and I agree, to some extent. Not a lot of veterans were voted in, but ya'll veterans gots to stick together. Just like us 2nd Gen. I'm super intimidated by some of the vets, too. I get overwhelmed by their awesomeness and just shrink away to hide in my corner. Belly up. I submit. White flag, etc.

Aaaand I keep getting poked. Someone in a thread that I'm in keeps poking me every time I show up on the threads to come and post. It's like, just 'cause I'm on doesn't mean I'm gonna be RPing in all of the dang threads. Quit pressuring me. Stop poking me. I just wanna chill out in Breaking the Fourth Wall. Is that so turrible? But, the same person who keep poking me also provide awesome inspiration for one of my charries. A suicide attempt that leads to a coma that leads to amnesia. Howzat?

And finally. I'm a StarKid. Finally. I like the first three, Me and My Dick, A Very Potter Musical and A Very Potter Sequel. I posted some of the vids on my facebook of Me and My Dick and my mom was not amused. She made me take them down, took my iPod, and told me no more Role-playing.

Three hours later, I've got my iPod back and she's explaining to me that it was inappropriate for me to share that when I've got a bunch of adults friended on facebook.

My initial reaction was, 'They are hardly on facebook so odds are, it would've been bogged down by the time they got to see it.' and then 'I don't give a hot flying damn what they think.' and finally 'I need to change the privacy settings on my facebook so my mom and anyone else who might get offended and live in blissful ignorance of the awesomeness that is Me and  My Dick.'

That ish is hilarious and if they can't unwind their granny panties and enjoy it, that's their own damned fault.

I hate Algebra.

Prologue-Setup-Chapter-Thing

Harry Potter and More Riddles

(The Prologue-Setup-Chapter-Thing)

 AN: So, I wrote a thing and I'm not sure which ending I should choose (see: Alternative Ending at the bottom) or if it's a prologue or a first chapter.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Years ago....

Voldemort’s headquarters were situated just outside of the Ministry in a black mansion cloaked with concealment spells. He stood in front of a massive window gazing mutely at the city in the distance. The view was enough to take any ordinary man's breath away, but Tom Riddle was no ordinary man. His skin had taken on an unEarthly green tinge and his eyes were no longer the shimmery dark-gray they used to be, but a harsh red that could bleed the soul of those who looked into them. A Death Eater entered the room, walking swiftly with his head down, and knelt before the dark wizard. Voldemort was expecting this particular follower, as he was very good at running away and disappearing without a trace. He had, on more than one occasion, attempted to 'quit' being a Death Eater. It was admirable, or foolish, of him. Either way, once sided with the Dark Lord, always sided with the Dark Lord.

“Malfoy,” Voldemort spoke quietly with a slight hissing lisp, “You will take Linnia away from the war- overseas if you have to. And you will not return until I’ve taken control of the Ministry and the Potters are dead,” He whipped his head around to glare at the still kneeling man, “Do you understand?”

The Malfoy, though he’d never tell, caught off-guard at the task presented to him. Not many people knew who Linnia was and even fewer knew that she was more than just a consort. Tom Riddle had split his soul six times. Perhaps, through all the magical mutilation, he was still capable of love.

“Are you sure that is a wise choice, sir? My absence would raise suspicion at Hogwarts-”

“Are you questioning my authority?” He sneered, “Crucio.” The Death Eater reeled back with the force of the spell and spasmed in pain, “I don’t think you understand, Malfoy. This is the last order I’m going to give you.”

The Dark Lord sauntered to his follower like a snake towards its prey. From the floor, the Death Eater looked up at him through steely eyes, trying desperately not to show the fear he felt.

“You will either die right now or leave this country with Linnia and the child.”

The yew wand drifting in front of his vision choked any words the Malfoy had.

“What will it be, Mortimer?” Voldemort hissed impatiently.

“Y-yes! I’ll do it, m-m’lord!” Malfoy stammered. The Dark Lord nodded, pleased with his answer and glided back to his original place by the window. Mortimer Malfoy composed himself and bowed.

“I will perform my final task to the best of my ability, m’lord,” He promised solemnly.

---

Today....

Anthony staggered away from the cafeteria clutching his stomach as waves of burning pain washed over his senses. He wanted to curl into a ball and wish it all away, but he had to keep moving. It was the fifth time this has happened. He would be at home or at school when he would double over and scream as if he was under the Cruciatus Curse. He learned to run away to a someplace more private after he collapsed in the middle of class one day.

The first time it happened was when he was 10 years old. He told his mother about the terrible pain experienced and she told him about the horcruxes. She told him about how fragile his father’s soul had been that perhaps some of it was embedded in him when he was born. He was not a complete horcrux himself, but an extension of Voldemort’s soul. Since then he was always anticipating the sudden rip of his and his father’s soul being destroyed.

Now, with only two left, he was becoming frantic. He was crossing the empty campus (everyone was still at the cafeteria for dinner) when a second attack sent him to the ground. He didn’t try to hold back the long wail of pain as it trespassed his lips.

Rage. Fear.

Whether it was his emotions, his fathers’, or Harry Potters’- he could not tell.

Anthony was still trembling as the ache subsided. Grass and dirt stuck to his matted blond hair as he picked himself off the ground. He shook and whimpered slightly at the ghost pains along his spine as he stood. The dorms were not far, but Anthony walked slowly with his back hunched under the weight of his anxiety.

One horcrux, just one left. Nagini, he concluded. She would stay close to her master and would not be easily defeated. He had met the snake the summer she became a horcrux. They had long conversations and eventually became friends before Anthony had to leave the country.

Anthony eventually found his room, breathless and exhausted. The young Riddle collapsed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Soon, his ragged breaths evened out and he was asleep.

The door to the room opened again a few moments later. Anthony’s roommate, Miles Selanne, quietly shut the door behind him and tiptoed across the threshold. Anthony laid on his bed in a fitful sleep. Miles could only watch on as his friend whined and whimpered protests to whatever nightmarish creature he was facing. Since the beginning of their residence, Miles had learned to let Anthony be to face his demons, even if it meant he’d lose sleep over it too. The brunette sighed in resignation and turned to undress.

As soon as Miles settles into his sheets, Anthony’s black eyes snapped open. He let out a blood-curdling scream and thrashed about in his bed. Miles was up, but too late to catch him as Riddle’s feet caught his bedding and sent him over the edge of his mattress. In less than a second, Miles was by his side, untangling the shrieking blond from his sheets.

“Andy-”

“Don’t touch me!”  He snapped hoarsely and slapped the offending hand away.

“Goddamnit, let me help!” The southern boy argued.

“It was just a nightmare-”

“Bullshit, Andy, and you know it. Nobody gets nightmares like that.”

Anthony’s expression soured, though there was still an underlying presence of terror in his eyes.

“I’ve had it with this. The nightmares, the screaming and running away, the lies,” Miles spat bitterly, “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? We’ve known each other for years, man. You know I won’t tell nobody.”

He locked eyes with his stubbornly silent friend. Anthony could tell his friend was being honest, there was truth in his dark hazel eyes. He watched as disappointment crippled any hope Miles had for him.

“I hate to see you like this,” Miles gestured to his quivering frame, “Scared shitless like some coward that I know you aren’t. Just remember I’m here if you need me, okay?”

Miles left Anthony alone by his bed and crawled into his own bed with his back turned to him. Anthony relaxed slightly and got up on his own shaky legs. He left the room quickly, ignoring the look Miles sent him over his shoulder.

All the horcruxes are gone, Anthony remembered with renewed panic. He knew what he had to do. His mother and Mortimer, his guardian, needed to know what happened immediately. The blonde started down the dormitory hall at a brisk pace.

He was scared. He was so, so scared of himself and what lie ahead of him. He was helpless to change his fate, Anthony knew that since the day he was born.  

Anthony passed the lounge where a few other students gave him odd looks over their magic playing cards. He probably looked like hell with his mud and sweat stained uniform and disheveled hair. He didn’t bother fixing himself up as he rounded a corner into the Staff’s quarters. Mortimer’s room was the closest as the professor requested it for specifically that reason. Anthony rapidly knocked three times on his mentor’s wooden door, and that was all he needed before it swung inward to reveal the platinum blond inside.

He gave Anthony a quick once-over, “Is it time?”

The Riddle made an affirmative gesture.

He sighed deeply, “Very well. You will find your mother and return to my office. Now.”

Anthony bolted off in the opposite direction without another word.

His footsteps echoed off the walls as he crept through the hallways. He was panting slightly with his black eyes shifting from side to side as sudden urge to leave overwhelmed him. Anthony stopped and listened. The Watcher was an entity that roamed the campus and ensured that no student was out of bed after curfew. It would send out three warnings in the form of anxiety, paranoia and fear until the student was pushed enough to leave. If they didn’t go back to bed after five minutes of pressing, the Watcher would alert the nearest staff member to report the student. No one was quite sure what the Watcher looked like, but Anthony could feel it urging him to leave.

“I’ve been ordered by Mr. Malfoy to find Miss Harpleen and return to his office with her,” He told the walls. The anxiety spell didn’t cease as the Watcher considered him. Suddenly, something appeared at the corner of his eye. Anthony whipped his head around, but still it stayed, just outside of his direct line of vision.

I shall escort you to Miss Linnia Harpleen. The Watcher told him without speaking.

Anthony nodded, too afraid to speak, and continued down the hall at a slower pace with the hair-raising presence of the Watcher just behind him.

To the left of this hall. The Watcher guided him. Anthony forced himself not to look back and did as he was instructed. They traveled through the dormitory for only a little while longer until the Watcher ordered Anthony to stop.

Miss Linnia Harpleen is here. Do not stay out after curfew again, Anthony Riddle. The creature warned before disappearing out of the corner of Anthony’s eye. It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off of the blond’s sagging shoulders. However, the anxiety stayed as it was his own this time.

He knocked twice on the door before his mother opened it looking dazed and half-awake.

“All the Horcruxes are destroyed,” Anthony said solemnly, “We can assume Father’s dead.”

Linnia’s eyes welled up with tears as she wound her arms around his neck to pull him into a maternal embrace.

“I hoped this day would never have come,” She spoke tenderly into his shoulder as he was much taller than her, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“We have to go now, mother,” Anthony pulled away softly from his weeping mother.

“I have to get some things,” Linnia nodded absently and disappeared into her room. She returned with a small black leather spell book with no title.

“That’s it?” Anthony asked looking uncomfortably between his mother and the book in her hands.
“Yes, it is,” She said, holding it a bit closer to herself. He nodded stiffly and started down the hall, expecting her to follow.

They arrived at Mortimer’s office as he was setting up a cauldron to boil in front of the back of the classroom. His head snapped up from the brew, looking alarmed. The room was dimly lit aside from the strange glow emitting from the cauldron. Mortimer visibly relaxed, if only a little, at the sight of both of them. He stood with an outstretched hand looking expectantly at Linnia.

“The book, Linnia,” He said bringing her out of whatever stupor she had been in. The darker blonde walked across the room casting a sad backwards glance at her son. Linna wordlessly handed over the book and the Malfoy immediately began to flip through it.

“Anthony,” He said without looking up from the book, “Take a seat.”

Anthony was walking between the desks when a sudden indescribable pain overwhelmed him. His legs gave out and he reached out for something to brace his fall, but only succeeded in knocking over desks and chairs on his way down. It was like he had been set on fire with the way he was thrashing on the floor. Linnia was by his side almost instantly.

“He said they were all destroyed!” She exclaimed over the groans of pain coming from her only son. Malfoy quickly pulled her away from Anthony without much protest.

“You mustn’t touch him,” He warned, “The Dark Lord might be fortunate enough to lose consciousness when a part of his soul is destroyed, but Anthony’s soul is already oversensitive from being torn apart six times previous-” The young Riddle shivered and curled in on himself, fading in and out of consciousness.

“There was another horcrux, a seventh one that the Dark Lord himself didn’t intend to make,” Mortimer sighed and thought for a moment, watching Anthony pull himself together, “Perhaps it was Harry Potter? I do not doubt that the Dark Lord could have dispatched of him on his own, but if Nagini was killed we can’t be sure of he hasn’t been killed as well...”

“Mom...” Anthony whispered from the floor, “Please, help me...”

“Oh, darling,” Linnia cooed and assisted Anthony on standing upright. His body trembled almost violently as he put most of his weight on a nearby window ledge. He tripped a little when he let go of Linnia to steady himself on the ledge. She made a move to help him again, but he waved her off. Oddly enough, the window was open and let a cool Autumn breeze float into the room. Anthony was considering whether or not someone heard him scream when something outside caught his eye. Something light and pale was being carried towards him by the wind. It was thin like a patch of skin, he then noticed, snakeskin. It swept through the window not going further past his face and then descended to land between both of his hands. He could hear his two companions shuffle closer to look over his shoulder.

“Snakeskin?” Mortimer spoke for the group.

Cautiously, as if the snake was still attached to it, Anthony touched the bit of skin with the tip of his index finger. He barely brushed it when it disintegrated into a pile of fine dust. Anthony held back a gasp as a smoke-like substance curled out of the remains and into the air. It twisted and took the shape of a small, pale snake. The trio watched on as it slithered into Anthony’s open slack-jawed mouth. He swallowed it involuntarily. Moments later, another consciousness bloomed in his mind.

I will rise again. It hissed.

---

Alternative Ending

Panting heavily, Anthony Riddle gripped the window ledge for support. Sunlight trickled through the open window and across his eyes, blurring his vision. His arms trembled from the shock of Voldemort’s death and fear. Pure terror coursed through his veins shaking his limbs, making his movements awkward and jerky. From the window came a small scorched piece of fabric. Anthony stilled and followed it with his eyes as it drifted between his eyes and landed loftily a few inches away from his hand. Anthony carefully slid his little finger towards the shred. It crumbled to dust at the slightly contact and a small sliver of silver magic escaped from the remains. It floated upwards and into Anthony’s open mouth.

I’m here, a voice whispered to him.

“He’s dead,” Anthony uttered, his voice wavering.

You will obey, It commanded.

His mother approached first placing her gentle hands on his tense shoulders.

You will kill for me.

Linnia brought him close and sobbed lightly on his shoulder. He stared vacantly over her head.

And you will die for me.

It's Not That Bad Over Here, Are You Lying to Me? and I'm a Composer Now.

So.
*rant warning*

I've been taking issue with two, unnamed, users on a website that I've been visiting. I don't know who they are personally, I'm new to the website, but I've been confused, angry, and a bit suspect of them.

When you read their profiles, they sound like they're dying. This is problematic and absolutely none of my business. So, if you happen to be one of these people and are highly offended by this, my blog post, please contact me ASAP and we'll get this sorted out.

I'm angry because I don't understand. One of them has a thing with an unnamed Terrible Pop Star. I don't mind anyone liking TPS even though I personally don't care for TPS because TPS has nothing to sing about. TPS's life has been easy up until this point, except maybe for a break up they had a while back that they dedicate three out of every four songs to whinging about, and the only reason TPS's life has gotten hard is because they're famous. Unnamed aggravating user #1 recently met TPS and because they're #1's favorite, #1 told us aaall about it and, from my perspective, it might have been severely intense on #1's side, but TPS has probably heard every sort of sob story on the planet and has, more likely than not, completely forgotten about #1. No offense, #1. Please don't read this. I'm not guilty for saying this because I don't understand #1 and I'm angry about it.

Unnamed aggravating user #2 has suddenly become less aggravating in light of #1's aggravatingness.

I'm mostly upset because I got to know #1 and, more or less, became #1's friend.

I don't know #1 well enough to go barging in and asking them what's up with the implied terminal illness and it's frustrating to have to wait long enough to build a relationship with them through the internet to be able to ask them that question. I wish I never met #1 because now I know I'm in for heartbreak if #1 does die from a terminal illness.

I'm the kind of person who anticipates things and when I do anticipate things that come to fruition, it hurts sooo much more. I could never properly handle pain, physical or emotional, since my dad died. It always comes back to that. His death date is coming up in April. I'm not looking forward to it.

In lighter, unimportant, and waste-of-breath news, I'm getting a tablet so I can draw digitally on my computer. In light of recent topics, I don't care about it anymore, but I'll still feel happy when I do get it. I promised my mom a picture because it's her bonus that's buying it.

I'm writing a script for a sci-fi GLBT romance musical. I've also produced eleven measures of musical genius for a string quartet. I've named it String Quartet No. 1. It features a musical phrase I invented several years ago that was underdeveloped and kind of awkward. But it's maturing now. Too bad I have nothing else to add to it. A stroke of inspiration will find me again.

And I know some of you reading this will have an idea of who I'm talking about. Please don't hate me forever. I just get mad when I don't understand things. It's immature of me and I'm aware of it. I'm not ashamed, though. No regrets. No guilt. Just heartbreak and frustration.

I should post something more positive after this.

What? You Wanna Fight Me?!

I changed my name to NinjaBee.

Deal with it.

Role-Play, NaNoWriMo, and Schedules.

So, I'm role-playing now. It's not what you think it is. Promise.

It's totally honest, good-natured fun role-play at the NaNoWriMo website. But that still doesn't mean I don't feel a bit squeamish saying it out loud.

I have several characters. A few of my favorites are.....


Caspar. The hot, redhead, hunter-type who shamelessly flirts with everyone and picks fights with people who look at him funny. First appearance: Three worlds, two portals, one house.

Sacha. The French snob-nerd who is mean to others before they can be mean to him. He has a pet plant ficus named Charlie. First appearance: Semi-simultaneously in No Way Out and Employee of the Month.

Yomichi. The most recent creepy Japanese one who has odd habits and obsessions. He's super self-conscious, but wants to make friends. Think Edward Scissorhands with sharper teeth. First appearance: Faiquist: Underworld Boarding School.

Rashon. The flamboyant, straight-but-not-narrow, thief-type. He's charismatic and is a personification of my inner gay male. First appearance: Saving Dovecote.


I do have some females.....

Karlyn. The telepathic, telekinetic, psychic, alcoholic medium. First appearance: Solstice Inn & Pub.


And some others include.....

Captain Louis Gutarland. The sea captain without a crew. First appearance: Saving Dovecote.

Alexander Lavender. Amnesiac trying to put things back together. First appearance: Road Trip

Serafina. The dreamy, locked-in-a-tower, princess-type. Pacifist. First appearance: Three worlds, two portals, one house.

Ashton Berkley. The easily-led, but loyal older brother. First appearance: New Years Eve.

Alice Berkley. The rebellious younger sister who gets into trouble. First appearance: New Years Eve.

Sarah "Naomi" Jackson. The movie star in her teenage years. First appearance: A Big Family.

Bee. Me, but awesomer. First appearance: HACK Writers' Guild

What's-his-name. The Afro-British au pair. Never appearance: A Big Family

Aspen. The less-important companion to Rashon. First appearance: Saving Dovecote.

Anthony Riddle-Pinsky. The Voldemort-wannabe and actual relative of Tom Riddle. So-far Never Appearance: Hogwarts: The Past.

Naomi "Nicky" Jermaine. The transvestite, corrupt cop, esteemed cop, cigarette smoker. First appearance: Coolsville.

Alexander Somethingorrather. The unimpressive meddling citizen who wants more justice in the world. First appearance: Coolsville.

Cambridge. Half-human, half-martian, orange-yellow, red hair, long limbs, computer-type. First appearance: The Island

Xavier. The loyal, observant, logical, knight-type. First appearance: The Company of Thieves.


I'm keeping this checklist for now. A few of these characters faded to black and never came back, so I might revive them some day. Maybe. If I feel like it.

I don't know if you know this, but RP is fun. Really fun. It's like you're taking your characters on a collaborative adventure with other people's characters. All their histories mingle into a different world. It's amazing and they form relationships and love or hate and it's so great. Really. It's great.

But I wish people would fucking cool it on the goddamn slave-themed threads. Some of them aren't even slaves in the sense that slaves would be slaves. They're laborers or servants, but not really slaves. House slaves VS field slaves, I suppose. Caspar and Sacha are in one called "Enslaved", but it's a modern-day gladiator RP. They're imprisoned rather than being slaves 'cause Caspar is a 'champion'. Meaning he trains the other gladiators to fight in the arena and gets better treatment than the others. It's not very slave-like if you ask me.

One that I'm really excited about is where we're playing ourselves in a world where our characters come to life. I might make a new character for this one or pick someone else. We'll need a villain, so I'm definitely picking either Anthony or making a new one. I might just make a new one now that I'm typing about it.

I made a thread called Road to Nowhere. It's an ever-changing world where the characters go through one conflict after the other until they die or we swap them out. It's going really well.

I'm going to make another one later this month as a Valentine's Day themed thread. I threw it out there to see who would bite and I'm getting really positive responses. But I've got shit to do, so it's not happening for a while.

Fucking Algebra.