#favorite thread

TBERP WEEK 2015: Day 7 - Favorite Thread.

  Breathe Life Into Me

SURPRISE SURPRISE! Calyss. So I up until today I had a different thread in mind for my favorite because it was funny and cute but certain events transpired between the teens and now I’m fangirling hard and i need to throw these emotions at random people on the internet.

THE BIG EASY RP WEEK ›› day seven ↳ favorite thread

If you read my RP’s, anonymously send me which one is your favorite and tell me why.

{ { THE FUNNIEST PART OF THIS IS THAT STARTED AS CRACK! No, seriously. We were talking in group chat and everyone was laughing about rasereiverfallen in DA verse and how people would just treat him like a Qunari instead of demon-spawn. And he’d be so confused at being called an Ox-man. [The thread was originally called “Do I look like an Ox?”] And Mairwen was just going to tease him about it and they were meant to be Bros! } }

While Iz laughed at him, Bennett focused on the concept of complimenting a woman so precisely unwomanly as Izabelle. He thought for a moment on whether or not he could pull it off, truly leave her stunned, and once it flickered across his consciousness that yes he could, he was greasing up the gears to think up the best one. It had always been a sort of game between Bennett and the rest of the world, find the best words and make them work the hardest they had ever worked just to prove someone wrong. He liked to play, even if the other party didn’t know such a game existed, but he loved to play when it involved a good friend, and while she laughed he thought on. He had known her long enough surely to know what made her tick, what buttons pushed in and never popped back out again, where her armor failed to protect, where she didn’t want it to protect. There was still something wildly mysterious about Izzy though, he’d racked his brain with the notion over several occasions, and still couldn’t figure it all out. Was that a worthy compliment? It didn’t really say anything remarkable about her, it instead focused on the fact that Bennett really wouldn’t make friends with dull people and that reflected much more on his capable mind than on hers. It wouldn’t do, she deserved more. Bennett looked from Iz to the targets she was battering, his mouth curving into a smile.”That’s simple. Your knives aren’t just extensions of your arms, not the way you throw them, they’re more like extensions of your faith. Steadfast, but never dulled by the tide, always sharp and swift and predictable. I can count on it, like I can count on you.”He wouldn’t stumble over his words now, not when he was on a roll.”And you’re best when using this bow,”He picked up a sturdy handmade bow given to her specially out of the advanced placement armory,”because it forces you to block out the world around you, to narrow in your vision, adjust your form, account for the wind. You don’t rely on muscle memory, but a craft you’ve come to tone and shape. And it’s quite profoundly beautiful the way you hit the targetalmostevery time. Imperfect, like the naturalness within you, never enhanced by false tradition or callus machines. It’s a brilliance that comes with knowing you hit that first shot with years of practice, and the second one with honest talent, and the third with certainty that you’ll continue for several more years.” Bennett continued on, but he hadn’t thought this far through before. He didn’t account for which words he placed where now, didn’t predict her reaction. He wasn’t using his brain for special vocabulary and syntax, he was using his heart.”With an ease that carries you from one violent end to the next you drag along any hopeless soul scattered before your path. You can’t see that the world you inhabit chose you because out of all the women of the planet, you’re the only one that could truly do something remarkable with something so mundane as Antony Kentwood. Yet, you’re skilled enough – powerful enough – to prove you can do it on your own.”Bennett gazed at her, letting his words linger…hopefully like a blade that pierced the bullseye. -- Jillian Jacobsen

Izabelle stopped dead in her tracks. She could not conjure up laughter or a smirk or even manage to fiddle with her knives like she usually did. She could only stare Bennett down as his words welled up inside her. It wasn’t fair! He was supposed to joke around with her! He was supposed to make her laugh more and then offer to help her sabotage the Yule festivities! He wasn’t supposed to say these things to her! They were things that she’d always wanted to hear. And that was the worst time for her to hear them. She realized she’d stopped breathing and he’d stopped talking. She felt a small choke rise up in the back of her throat and stick there. She felt stinging wells of tears building in her eyes. She didn’t take a moment to think of what she was doing. She just did it. She rushed at him with force and fury and knocked Bennett Kendrick to the ground with her body. She held a knife up to his throat, eyes serious and those few desperate tears making their way down her cheeks before she furiously wiped them away with the back of her free hand. Her nostrils flared as she looked down into Bennett’s brown eyes. ”Don’t you dare, speak to me like that Bennett Kendrick!”Her voice was low and menacing, the way she might speak to an enemy. Her tone was somewhere between a whisper and a growl.”I will never deserve those words and you know it. I don’t know what you’re thinking, saying them to me, but you’re wrong. I want you go to go out there and find someone worth those words. Do you understand me? Do you promise me?”Her last question held an element of sadness. People as terrible as Izabelle didn’t find people who could say such things to them. It just wasn’t heard of. As depressing as she found it, Izzie knew that she deserved someone like Antony and he, someone like her. It was their mutual punishment for being wrapped up with the wrong kind of people in the wrong kind of world. She got off her friend, realizing how awkward it must have been to have a woman straddled over him with a knife at his throat. Part of Izabelle wanted to just be a normal girl; to look at this boy and take such high compliments and beautifully thought out words and to treasure them. But she couldn’t. Izzie was too honest, too practical with herself to let such things float. She wanted to care for Bennett, to have words like those for him, but she couldn’t.