How does starting this rp sound with everyone? I really want to do a Doubt rp, but I just want to see what other people think. Comment with what you think IF you read this.
1. I think we should start over and leave it as is.
2. Start over, but rp in comment boxes instead.
3. Have this kind of as a rp, but more like a joint story.
4. Start over, but rp in theO chat.
5. Don't start over and keep pushing through!
6. Not interested in this rp anymore.
7. *ignores Poochy*
8. *raises hand and gives a different option* <--aka comment with what you want to do.
Also, depending on what we chose, I'm going to try and find others to join. (as long as they at least know some about Doubt.)
Well, let me know, or just silently do choice 7 :'D
PS if I don't get a response I'll try PMing this to the members and if nothing or only "Eh, whatever is fine." than I'll drop this rp and focus on a different one.
I know I've kind of abandoned the rp, but I was wondering if you wanted me to keep it going...
The wolf has noticed that this rp seems to bit a tiny bit dead. The Wolf wonders if another killing would set the pace? The wolf also appreciates the irony in killing somebody to revive a dead rp.
I stumbled around a little longer until I heard a scream. It.. It sounded close. I started to move around some more trying to find a way out before I heard a voice. "Hello? Anybody there?" I stopped and looked around but couldn't se...
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Sing for me softly, love: your song for tomorrow,
And tell my name's the one that’s hidden in there, somewhere.
And dream for me anything;
But, dream it in color about when all--the sun's still rising, and we don’t care...
...Do you feel us falling? 'Cause I can feel us falling...
I would sleep like a dog, if you had never have said: this is the world coming down on your head.
If you're so smart, explain this, Clarissa.
And I was awake and I was crying and I was alone in a bedroom and--and, Mom, where are you, Momma--Mom, are you, wait; what, Mom--
And...now I was actually awake. For real this time. I shot a hand up to feel my face carefully--making sure my sunglasses were still here. They were. My pants were still on, too, so that was cool.
I sighed in relief, sweating slightly. Okay...now, where was I?
I was...what? In a bathroom stall. A school bathroom, graffiti long etched into the peeling paint.
Cool enough. Next to figure out: why I was here.
Before I could think that one through, a familiar emptiness flied through my head, and I got cold chills as realization hit me. I sat up straight, busting out of the deserted stall. Only a single thing was on my mind as I ripped off my sunglasses and assessed myself in a lipstick-stained mirror.
I stopped dead when I saw my reflection.
Now buzz, buzz, buzz;
Doc, there's a hole where something was.
Doc, there's a hole where something was.
My hand ghosted over my "bad" eye, dipping into an empty socket where a round piece of glass should have rested. On the sagging eyelid sat a bar-code. A brand. I touched it tenderly, my eye burning as raw skin brushed against my rotting socket. It hadn't been washed out properly since I'd fallen asleep, I could tell.
I assessed it all calmly, familiarizing myself with my new tattoo. Pink scars around the lid were covered nicely by this new addition, which fit me just fine.
Would I be a faggot to say I was worried a this point, Jimmy?
Right. Then, I wasn't. I was completely calm as m head whipped around, and tears pricked a m eyes, and I tried to figure out why I couldn't remember anything.
"H-Hello?" I called aloud, cursing the weakness in my voice.
What was I doing? God, I was such a cunt. "He! Who in hell is here?" I corrected myself slamming open the bathroom door and having a piercing scream meeting my ears. A girl ran directly into me almost simultaneously.
It was Alice, and she was crying, and mumbling shit I couldn't understand through her tears and too-thick accent. "Whoa, whoa; c'mere, kid." I grabbed her shoulders lightly and held her slightly aloft from myself, examining her.
My voice was as soft as I could make it when I spoke again, "What happened, girly?" I stooped down to her height, focusing to make out her next words.
"'I--'Ik-k-kari! Zhe is d...d-dead...!" she sobbed harder as my eyes landed on what must have been Hikari's corpse. Blood red. Mangled.
Above it, written in a sloppy, confused scrawl was "The Liar Must Die".
It was then that I decided to stop thinking: I patted the back of Alice's head comfortingly, "It's all good, kid. It's okay." I whispered.
And I tried real hard to believe myself.