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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 11 2011, 09:29 PM (219 Views) | |
| adamantine | Sep 11 2011, 09:29 PM Post #1 |
Welcome to the Club
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OOC Information Name: Adamantane. I always have such a hard time coming up with a username that I don't hate. I'm a chemistry person, and adamantane has always been really attractive to me. It's the hydrocarbon that constitutes the unit (well, to a certain extent, anyway) of the network lattice of diamond (which technically doesn't have hydrogens, but that is neither here nor there). The real attraction in it as a username is that - besides my general geekiness - Cassandra Claire (back when she was Claire and not Clare, when she was writing Harry Potter fanfiction and not original fiction) used the term - I believe, it's been a while - to some extent in the Draco Trilogy. So there... some science, some fandom. That's well-rounded, right? Gender: Female Who were you referred by? What site were you referred from?: That's funny. I believe I stumbled across TUL way back in the day, when it was advertised on -- Neopets, was it? I mean, way back. Probably '05 or '06. I don't know the timeline of the site, I just know I was still in high school. Anyway, I fell off the boat for a while, and then I got the email about TUL moving to here, and I've had this itch to write lately, you know, and I decided, hey, why the heck not? Age: 21, nearly 22. Contact: email, if you like. PM, if you prefer. I'm not picky. Role Playing Experience: I believe I started roleplaying when I was 14 or 15. I took it very, very seriously for a number of years, and then in my sophomore or junior year of undergrad, I fell off the boat (as previously mentioned). I tried to keep up with my writing, so it's been... oh, six or seven years. That's a long time, I guess. Feels like a long time. IC Information Role Play Sample: (No less than 300, and no more than 1000 words. We're looking for a sample, not a short story, please.) Okay. I realize that this is not REALLY a role play sample, although I suppose it could be spun into one (I'm not sure how). I have a character, anyway, and a sort of situation that is hilariously underwhelming. If you prefer something shorter (this is right on the nose, I believe, at 1K) and more like an actual post... I think I have something on this computer somewhere that I could pull for you, albeit perhaps without any of the proper background. Let me know. Begin! Sunday morning, 9:37am, and the small town was quiet in that lazy way that feels like Sunday morning. The girl – slender, almost too tall – picked her way down the sun-dappled sidewalk. She laughed once or twice on her way. It was the sort of laugh that was open, unwarranted, inexplicable; the kind that bubbles up through her when she stumbles across something within herself and finds laughter in it. Two braids framed her face; thick, coarse chestnut hair, clearly braided in haste, the part between them jagged and uneven. It was very clearly the work of a girl who had never quite learned to braid properly – not the careful, conscientious braid of a mother. Her face itself was fairly unremarkable: a pair of eyes that were somewhere between green and blue beneath a pair of eyebrows that were plucked but not particularly shaped. A nose, not particularly remarkable in its similarities or dissimilarities to anyone else’s nose, above a mouth with full lips and teeth that were only just crooked enough to suggest that she may once have had braces and then neglected her retainers. The gray-and-black-and-white straps of the sundress bit gently into her shoulders, alongside a looser set of gray straps belonging to a camisole, and a pair of off-white (used to be white, unfortunately) straps shot through with silver thread, belonging – presumably – to her bra. That quiet smile still curved her lips as she made her way along, pressing the button that requested the ‘walk’ signal. The little white man had not appeared, but her chance came in the form of a lull in traffic, the rumble of cars fading to blend in with the hum of the morning. Up to the sidewalk again, books clasped gently in her arms, faded red leather purse swinging gently at her side... her chin lifted perceptibly as a couple on bicycles rode past. Unfortunately, this lack of attention to the sidewalk had come at precisely the wrong time, and here the sidewalk was uneven – the next cement slab had lifted over the years, leaving a tiny sheer rock face, and her toe – the nail painted pink, utterly unprotected by an ill-advised navy blue flip flop – collided solidly with it. “Oh!” she cried, the sound torn from her lips, her arms flying out to steady herself. She skipped forward, managing to stay on her feet as her books and papers flew in a small tornado around her: the ransom she’d paid to keep from picking gravel out of her palms later. Red-faced and jittery with adrenaline, she thought she might have seen the female bicyclist turn to see the aftermath of the stubbed toe, but she would-not-look, would-not-look, would-not-look. Laughing again – this time a laugh that didn’t extend to her eyes or heart, a sound meant to force any amused onlookers to laugh with instead of at her, she bent slowly, carefully to retrieve her books and papers, pushing each paper quickly between the covers of one of the books. As the adrenaline faded, she became aware of a throbbing pain in her toe, and noticed that her shoe had grown dark and sticky. Hardly daring to breathe, she walked more quickly, favoring her left foot – angling her steps so that they rolled from heel-to-ball, not allowing the toe to bear any weight. A quick analysis of the situation sent her ahead instead of back to her place of residence, and she walked another five or ten minutes, worrying-worrying-worrying. The sound of gentle instrumental music – hymns – drew her like a moth to a flame, and she slipped into a large, rather ornate building that looked like it was made of oversized orange bricks (but they were probably just stone) and hobbled down a flight of stairs. Seeing a bathroom, she slipped inside as quickly as possible, planning to rinse the offending toe off and to maybe attempt to wrap it in paper towels. As she sank heavily onto the toilet and hoisted her foot up to examine the wound, she involuntarily made a hissing noise. “Not a bandaid fix,” she said, quickly and darkly, as if to mollify herself; a thick flap of skin had peeled back from the toe, leaving a bloody plane of skin that was much larger than she’d dared imagine. A quick conversation with a woman – slightly overweight, short dark curly hair: exactly the kind of mother that one expected to see in a church – yielded a first aid kit, which in turn yielded a set of bandaids, antiseptics, and scissors. Taking the newfound treasure trove back to the bathroom, she sat again, breathing in and out heavily through her nose. Finally, she reached for her cell phone, dialed, and sat back, blinking rapidly, her foot still resting on the opposite knee. “Well, hello, beautiful.” The voice on the other end was still heavy with sleep, rough and groggy. “I need help,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to take care of this. I don’t know what to do.” Now sobbing silently, with the reassuring directions from the other end of the line, she lifted her foot painfully into the basin of the sink and ran cold water over her toe, biting her lip as the bruised, battered nerves jangled in response. Soap stung a bit more, and by the time she was digging dirt out with previously clean fingernails, the nerves were deadened. Sitting back down, she wiped her nose with a bit of toilet paper, and, at his instruction, stuck the flap of rubbery skin back over the open wound, and bandaged the toe with several bandaids. Sniffling once or twice, she murmured, “Thanks. I’m sorry I went to pieces like that. I’m usually good with blood.” “That’s all right, beautiful,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice now. “Anything for you. You know that.” “For you, the moon?” she asked, the corners of her reddened mouth quirking upwards. “For you, the moon,” he responded. The Genres: Not picky. I'll do my research if I want to join something. Harry Potter was big back in the day, and that's what I primarily did, but I'm open to whatever. I just want to write again. |
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| adamantine | Sep 11 2011, 09:32 PM Post #2 |
Welcome to the Club
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Oh, /embarrassing/. I managed to spell my username incorrectly. That bodes well, yeah? All right, well, if I am accepted, perhaps someone can help me change the i to an a. |
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| Dr. Locke | Sep 12 2011, 02:14 PM Post #3 |
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Trust your Doctor.
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Hahah, it's fine! It happens, no worries. I'd be happy to change it - you can simply go into your user preferences and request a name change, and I'll confirm it asap. And welcome to TUL! |
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The Storyteller Chronicles Prologue: Weaving Webs A Short Story About Love - Coming Soon Deadly Sins - Coming Soon Until She Wakes - Coming Soon | |
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| Dr. Locke | Sep 12 2011, 02:14 PM Post #4 |
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Trust your Doctor.
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![]() I'd like to welcome you to the TUL community and hope your stay with us will be thoroughly enjoyable. If at any time you find yourself stuck, confused, or in need of answers; please PM an admin or post in the Shout-out board. We will be more then happy to answer what ever questions you may have. If you'd like an in-depth review of your admission, please contact the staff member that accepted you. Be sure to keep up to date with our Broadcasts as the information posted will effect your experience here on TUL. Check this out! Here is a list of some features to check out on your stay here. These are not all the features we have, but some of the larger ones.
Please be sure to read the rules before proceeding, for they will prevent you from So, without further ado, welcome to The United Literates! Enjoy yourself!
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The Storyteller Chronicles Prologue: Weaving Webs A Short Story About Love - Coming Soon Deadly Sins - Coming Soon Until She Wakes - Coming Soon | |
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8:14 PM Jul 10