IsabellaRose

fuck because sometimes you just want to lose yourself in something animalistic

Guilty. So many times. Then next person is fighting a battle no one else knows about.

hey, sorry I'm off dealing with some real life crises for a bit. If you need me to do anything to make the club easier to use, let me know. I never got to finish setting it up.

floral scent

Weirdly, not guilty, I think? I like cold water, but I just drink it room temperature so often I think maybe I like it better? Or maybe I just accept the water at whatever temperature it wishes to be. The next person has a thing they love to do that they currently can't do because of <reasons> and it's driving them CRAZY.

girly clothes

baby bump

throbbing heartbeat

massive cock

revenge fantasy

intensively studying

Not guilty. I don't generally do canon and the few times I have it never feels accurate to me, although I've been told that I did a great job with some canon characters. Even then, Princess Jasmine letting Jafar bugger with his mind control would never be part of the official story The next person is stuck watching American football with a loved one today.

Guilty-ish? I used to endure a lot of content I didn't care about or care for because I felt like that's what a good little subby would do. But then I realized that if I'm carrying at lest 50% of the weight of keeping a roleplay going, I should be getting 50% of the enjoyment from it. That being said, I'll still incorporate elements that aren't my favorite for the right partner. The next person wants a roleplay that incorporates less popular kinks but is afraid to ask for it.

quietly masturbating

The soldier in plate armor seems ready to pounce as he says, "Back away from the crown, you thieving bitch! I'll have your hand for stealing from our dead king." Thieving... bitch? You're an archaeology student, not a thief. What would make him think...? You look down at yourself for the first time since waking. Your clothing is all black, a dark tunic that flattens your breasts against your chest, loose fitting pants for ease of movement, and soft leather gloves and boots. Across your chest is bandolier with pockets that you somehow know are filled with various picks, tension wrenches, small files, and other tools for making entry into places you should not be. Twin daggers are strapped to either side of your belt, and a coil of silken rope with a collapsible grappling hook is attached to your belt. Strapped to your thigh are a set of slim, lightweight throwing knives. You instinctively pull the scarf around your neck up to cover your face. You're obviously not meant to be here, but you came here for something. Was it the crown? Are you a thief? Or are you an assassin? Did you kill the king? How did you even get here? You have more questions than answers, but as the guard starts toward you, you realize that answers will have to wait. The soldier approaches you at a quick, steady pace. He is massive, barrel-chested, and if he gets his hands on you, you're done for. His sword is up, ready to attack as he draws near. If you pull your daggers to fight him, click here <link forthcoming> If you throw one of your throwing knives, hoping to disarm him, click here <link forthcoming> If you throw one of your throwing knives, aiming to kill him, click here. If you turn and run, click here <link forthcoming> If you try to talk your way out of this, click here <link forthcoming>

You wake to feel cold concrete pressing against your cheek, gritty with dust and fine debris. The faint scent of mildew hangs in the air. As you stir, tiny fragments of glass crunch beneath your fingertips, and the distant sound of dripping water echoes through the stillness like a metronome. You open your eyes and look around. You're in ruins, but not the kind you expected. You sit up slowly and take in your surroundings. The space you're in is the cavernous, gutted shell of a modern office building. Desks lay overturned, their surfaces warped by time and water damage. Shattered flat-screen monitors lay strewn on the floor near most of the desks. Filing cabinets in a corner still stand, a few twisted open and their contents strewn about, paperwork faded and illegible, some yellowed, others clumped together with moisture. Above you is a modern looking drop-ceiling, many of the tiles missing, leaving black rectangles where no light shines. A fluorescent light fixture dangles from one of the empty rectangles, swaying slightly, its glass tubes long shattered. A tree had forced its way through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall, its branches reaching into the building like invaders claiming the space. Vines curl up walls and coil around the skeletal remains of cubicle dividers. Nature had begun its slow takeover; moss carpets the floor, and mushrooms sprout from the damp corners, feeding off the decay. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the faint creaks of the structure settling in a breeze you can feel slipping through the gaps in the broken windows. The air from outside carries with it the faint scent of vegetation mixed with something sharper, metallic, and foreboding. The distant caw of a scavenging bird echoes through the open space. Piles of debris, broken plaster, splintered wood, and twisted metal, created treacherous obstacles in the open spaces between the still-standing cubicle dividers. Then, something shifts in the shadows, a movement so subtle you almost missed it. A rat the size of a small dog skitters across the far end of the room, its fur patchy and its eyes gleaming with an unnatural intelligence. It stops and turns its head toward you, sniffing the air, before disappearing into the rubble. The sight sends a chill down your spine. Rising to your feet, you make your way to what had once been the windowed edge of the building. Below, a city stretches out in ruins, a jagged forest of concrete, steel, and green. Many skyscrapers still stand, their frames draped in ivy, some leaning like toppled dominoes, while vehicles sit abandoned on cracked and increasingly green streets. The silence isn’t empty; it feels watchful, alive with unseen dangers. This world, for all its familiarity, is alien, and wholly indifferent to your presence. You have no idea how you got here. As your new reality settles into your mind, you realize that you may not be safe here. That giant rat-thing may come back, and it may not be alone. You will need to find water, food, shelter, and as much safety as possible in this ruined world. Just as you begin to think of what your next step should be, a voice breaks the silence, and you whirl around to see that you are not alone. If you see a massive man clad in scraps of leather, metal, and fur who says, "Ello, leashling... you're a brave one, runnin' into the Shatter. Now, gimme a taste 'fore I take you back to the Boneking." click here. If you see a massive man clad in scraps of leather, metal, and fur who says, "Any sign of the leashling? The Boneking said whoever finds her first gets free use." click here <link forthcoming> If you see a woman dressed in armor that seems to be cobbled together from scavenged sports equipment, metal scraps, and reinforced leather who says, "Oh, baby, the Boneking's gonna be so mad that you left him for the Iron Sisters. C'mon, lets get you back to Haven. Morrigan will want to meet you." click here <link forthcoming> If you see a woman dressed in armor that seems to be cobbled together from scavenged sports equipment, metal scraps, and reinforced leather who says, "Looks like you've lost another leashling, Meatdog. Tell your Boneking if he comes looking, all he'll find is death." If you see a creature that could be a human mutated into an animal or perhaps an animal mutated into a human who says, "Hop hop, little bunny. They eat you all up if they find you. Come. Come! Burrowkin hide you. Protect you. Quickly!", click here. If you see a creature that could be a human mutated into an animal or perhaps an animal mutated into a human who says, "Lil bunny safe from meatdogs! You never find burrowkin. We too fast!" click here <link forthcoming>

binge watching

Guilty. I'll admit to wanting to ask more follow on questions than this game really allows. I like stuff like this. It's fun and enlightening. (oh, and I'll throw this out there- if I ever drop an answer and you want more details, please feel free to drop me an EcchiText. I love getting to know people here. I promise, I don't bite. Unless that's your thing, in which case, I may ) The next person wishes there were a way to reply to single answers here without disrupting the flow of the whole thread.

For once in the last couple of weeks, not guilty! I got 8 hours of sleep, woke feeling stiff but rested, and I'm now having a lazy morning in the warmest hoodie and fleece pajama pants ever sipping coffee and trying to post with two cats on me! Bliss! The next person has imagined what it might be like to be kept as a pet.

underage drinking

sexual position

Not guilty, but now I'm going to be hyper-aware of everything my body does looking for one! The next person would love a spa day right about now.

The soldier in plate armor looks you up and down and sneers. "Your father is dead, Princess. House Valoryn has fallen. There's nowhere for you to run." Princess? You're an archaeology student, not a princess. What would make him think...? You look down at yourself for the first time since waking. You're wearing a gown of crimson silk that shimmers in the light coming in through the broken window. The bodice is intricately embroidered with gold filigree depicted cascading vines and blooming flowers, the neckline an elegant sweetheart curve, and you can see your more than ample breasts fill it out quite nicely. The sleeves are long and flowing, the long skirt billows outward in layers of gossamer and brocade. A faint trail follows you as you move. At your tiny waist, a sash is tied into an elegant bow, its ends cascading down the gown’s length, shimmering with iridescence. You are shocked at how you look. You can only conclude that you're not in your own body. Somehow, when you fell into those ruins, you must have fallen into another world. Perhaps this is the version of you that exists in this world. Perhaps you somehow occupied the body of some poor princess on the worst day of her life. More likely, this is a hallucination or some dream conjured by your mind as you lay injured and unconscious in the ruins in Morocco. Whatever the case, this soldier moves toward you with ill intent. Does he intend to capture you? Rape you? Kill you? You have no idea what he plans, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that his intentions are not good. You take a hesitant step back, trying to give yourself time to think. It makes him laugh. "You can't escape," he says with grim certainty. "Where would you go? We have the castle. Your father lies dead behind you. Your knights are dead or fleeing. The day is ours, your highness." He says the last bit with a mocking sneer. If you try to pick up the fallen sword and fight, click here. If you turn and run, hoping to find an escape route, click here. If you try to reason with him, click here.

So... the fist couple of choices establish the world and your type of character. Not a lot of "story" choices yet, but once I know if I'm writing a male or female, if the story is going in the direction of a powerful character dominating things or a weaker character escaping from things, the choices will be a lot more "what do you do" instead of "who is here and what do you look like."

embarrassing situation