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JuliusCaesar
Meteorite
- Joined
- Nov 14, 2011
- Location
- New England
How it do.
I'm Jack.
Nice t'meetcha.
--> F-List <--
-
Jason Robechauex knew how to appreciate the small pleasures in life. Lounging on the back porch of his moss-covered ranch, which was a stone’s throw from sinking into the stagnant bayou not a hundred yards from the toe of his boots, he cracked open a sweating Heineken. It was a quiet, sticky night, and the creaking of his rocker was perfectly in tune to the crickets, birds, and bullfrogs hiding out in the woods that surrounded his remote, Louisiana home. The brew went smoothly down his unshaven throat, and in one gulp, half the bottle was gone. He swished some of the froth between his teeth and spat it at the feet of the bound man sitting on the bare clapboards beside him.
“How you doin,’ mo’fucker?” Jason asked cockily, giving his captive a surly smirk. “You want a beer?”
There was a non-committal grunt in response, muffled by the duct tape wound around his mouth.
He retrieved one from the open six-pack of green bottles at his feet, twisted the cap off, and laid next to the other man’s bloody knee. “Looks good, don’t it?”
Jason, thoroughly entertained, grinned at the man and lifted the brim of his oil-stained trucker cap at him. He turned back towards the bayou then and shoved his thick fingers through the shock of dirty-blond hair atop his head as he thought. Down the steps, leaning against a tree that was older than his great-grandfather’s begetter, was a dirt-encrusted spade next to a pile of freshly over-turned compost. He was contemplating just burying the jackass alive. Weighing him down, maybe, and throwing him in the bog so the gators could have at him. Letting his captive sit there and wonder, though, was much more fun.
After taking another swig of his beer, he got up from the rocker slowly and stared down at the man who’d smacked around his sister. “So, asshole, what am I gonna do with you?”
Another muffled groan.
Jason picked up the opened bottle, bent down, and started to pour the alcohol into the bleeding bullet wound in the assailant’s knee. This time, his cries weren’t so muffled. The bullfrogs stopped croaking for a moment. Jason fisted a chunk of his greasy hair and slammed his head against the siding of the house. He stood, tempted to kick him in the jaw like he was a football. Instead, the blond again spat at his feet. “Rot, you fucker.”
-
Basically -
: I play modern, post-modern, supernatural, and historical. I do little with anything before the rise of the Roman Empire.
: I do not play fandoms/canons, fantasy, or science fiction. This includes anything to do with manga, anime, comics, or cartoons and is non-negotiable.
: I'm partial to dark/gritty themes, reality, romance, drama, and comedy.
: I like detail, detail, detail. The more the merrier. Write paragraphs. Give me a place to be, something to see, and a scene to immerse myself in. At times, I lack in this department when I want to get the plot rolling, but I'll more than match you if you give me something good to read.
: I'm a sucker for great dialogue. It can either really make or break a character.
: I write original characters of the non-submissive sort who typically have dark pasts or -- for whatever reason -- a burden or chip on their shoulders. No clue why, tbh.
Over time, I've started to notice this pattern.
: I like plot and character development more than I like mindless sex scenes. That sort of thing has its time and place, which isn't all up in my PM box. The story comes first, though if the plot is sex-driven or focused, then it's cool. When we get to the adult scenes, you better know your shit.
: I can post anywhere from several times a day to once a week. It depends on how into it I am. Or how quickly you post.
: I put up two paragraphs to over a dozen. The sample provided above is a little bit longer than average length for me.
: I'm big on grammar. Write well. That's all I ask. I don't hold hands.
: I'm a pretty chill guy overall. I won't get on your back about posting or bitch if you need time to think about things or get away from the for a while. It's totally cool - just gimme a shout is all. We'll talk plots, shoot the shit, and have fun. That's why we're all here, right?
So -
: Shoot me a PM. I'm more likely to respond to you in an apt amount of time if you message me than if you post here.
: Come to me with ideas. I can't stress that enough. If you're like "uhhh, idk, what do you want to do??" I'll get pissed off. I'm a lazy ass, so if I write the thread, you type up a blurb about a few plots you have in mind. I'll of course elaborate on plots and characters with you, but I'm pretty poor when it comes to whipping out story lines.
Awesome!
Hit me up!
I'm Jack.
Nice t'meetcha.
--> F-List <--
-
Jason Robechauex knew how to appreciate the small pleasures in life. Lounging on the back porch of his moss-covered ranch, which was a stone’s throw from sinking into the stagnant bayou not a hundred yards from the toe of his boots, he cracked open a sweating Heineken. It was a quiet, sticky night, and the creaking of his rocker was perfectly in tune to the crickets, birds, and bullfrogs hiding out in the woods that surrounded his remote, Louisiana home. The brew went smoothly down his unshaven throat, and in one gulp, half the bottle was gone. He swished some of the froth between his teeth and spat it at the feet of the bound man sitting on the bare clapboards beside him.
“How you doin,’ mo’fucker?” Jason asked cockily, giving his captive a surly smirk. “You want a beer?”
There was a non-committal grunt in response, muffled by the duct tape wound around his mouth.
He retrieved one from the open six-pack of green bottles at his feet, twisted the cap off, and laid next to the other man’s bloody knee. “Looks good, don’t it?”
Jason, thoroughly entertained, grinned at the man and lifted the brim of his oil-stained trucker cap at him. He turned back towards the bayou then and shoved his thick fingers through the shock of dirty-blond hair atop his head as he thought. Down the steps, leaning against a tree that was older than his great-grandfather’s begetter, was a dirt-encrusted spade next to a pile of freshly over-turned compost. He was contemplating just burying the jackass alive. Weighing him down, maybe, and throwing him in the bog so the gators could have at him. Letting his captive sit there and wonder, though, was much more fun.
After taking another swig of his beer, he got up from the rocker slowly and stared down at the man who’d smacked around his sister. “So, asshole, what am I gonna do with you?”
Another muffled groan.
Jason picked up the opened bottle, bent down, and started to pour the alcohol into the bleeding bullet wound in the assailant’s knee. This time, his cries weren’t so muffled. The bullfrogs stopped croaking for a moment. Jason fisted a chunk of his greasy hair and slammed his head against the siding of the house. He stood, tempted to kick him in the jaw like he was a football. Instead, the blond again spat at his feet. “Rot, you fucker.”
-
Basically -
: I play modern, post-modern, supernatural, and historical. I do little with anything before the rise of the Roman Empire.
: I do not play fandoms/canons, fantasy, or science fiction. This includes anything to do with manga, anime, comics, or cartoons and is non-negotiable.
: I'm partial to dark/gritty themes, reality, romance, drama, and comedy.
: I like detail, detail, detail. The more the merrier. Write paragraphs. Give me a place to be, something to see, and a scene to immerse myself in. At times, I lack in this department when I want to get the plot rolling, but I'll more than match you if you give me something good to read.
: I'm a sucker for great dialogue. It can either really make or break a character.
: I write original characters of the non-submissive sort who typically have dark pasts or -- for whatever reason -- a burden or chip on their shoulders. No clue why, tbh.
Over time, I've started to notice this pattern.: I like plot and character development more than I like mindless sex scenes. That sort of thing has its time and place, which isn't all up in my PM box. The story comes first, though if the plot is sex-driven or focused, then it's cool. When we get to the adult scenes, you better know your shit.
: I can post anywhere from several times a day to once a week. It depends on how into it I am. Or how quickly you post.
: I put up two paragraphs to over a dozen. The sample provided above is a little bit longer than average length for me.
: I'm big on grammar. Write well. That's all I ask. I don't hold hands.
: I'm a pretty chill guy overall. I won't get on your back about posting or bitch if you need time to think about things or get away from the for a while. It's totally cool - just gimme a shout is all. We'll talk plots, shoot the shit, and have fun. That's why we're all here, right?
So -
: Shoot me a PM. I'm more likely to respond to you in an apt amount of time if you message me than if you post here.
: Come to me with ideas. I can't stress that enough. If you're like "uhhh, idk, what do you want to do??" I'll get pissed off. I'm a lazy ass, so if I write the thread, you type up a blurb about a few plots you have in mind. I'll of course elaborate on plots and characters with you, but I'm pretty poor when it comes to whipping out story lines.
Awesome!
Hit me up!
