Hey sirs, (
or friends, for those of you who may or may not be female -- I'm not sexist, but English is a sexist language], I'm Kent Buckle. You might have seen me around these parts and some other parts similar to them on the handle
LegendViperOfSteel, and I'd like to tell you a story, and on top of that, another story. The first story is all personal crap, so if that's uninteresting you probably ought to skip past it.
I'm fourteen years old at present time, situated in the middle of southern California as I've been for most of my life. I was linked here for a friend, did some lurking and subforum-reading, found the Creative Writing board, and decided "Hell, why not?" For the last six years out of the twelve years I've been there, online roleplaying and primarily writing have been a major part of my life, and while I put down roleplaying for good two years after I started it, the knack for writing stayed, and it's because of this that I learned I had a taste for creativity and decided to make those skills a main hobby of mine. Maybe I'll even be able to get a job off of it, who the hell knows? I don't have any unrealistic expectations, but it'd be nice, anyway.
Anyway, like far too many common teenagers who have lived for around the same time as I have, I'm too darn self-conscious about what I do. More often than not, I'm plagued with doubts as to the quality of my work and as to the point of submitting it up on the Internet at all. My main problem is that I look at these products of mine as inferior to what the people I look up to and am inspired by are known for. Obviously, they are, since these people are professionals with years after years of experience both in the public eye and before they were even known by the world at large in the first place. Unfortunately, that's my stopping point, since I falter with that in mind and keep thinking that it's useless to put up such things if there are already people who are doing much better in the first place. At the same time, I can look around the Internet and see any number of things that just aren't good, and think about how I'm no better and decide "eh, why bother". I have the ideas, but not the drive, and this hobbywork of mine trickles in slowly and many projects are cancelled in their infancy due to my lack of confidence.
Contrary to what you might think, I actually keep this to myself, because complaining to it to other people serves no purpose when I'm the only one who can fix it, and over the last year or two I have been growing up and learning how to look at things a little differently, and I have actively been trying to break out of my giant barricade made out of block after block after block to try and get myself to a point where I can convince myself to start taking it seriously action-wise rather than just idea-wise. It's a slow process, but I've been going to friends and even people I know and doing things I never imagined myself doing and slowly feeling more productive and getting more urges, even if they're just very minute, to sit down and take a goddamn honest shot at something.
I came to this whole conclusion about three months ago, and this is the first thing I've had the good and honest confidence to put up before the world. Well, it's about one half worth of confidence, one half of forcing myself to do it. Am I trying to prove something? I don't really think so, no. I like to think that this kind of thing is something I can do, even though the road's been pretty rough or outright not travelled from time to time. Whether I can actually do it or not is something I can't say for certain because I've never done it, so that's what I'm trying to find out here. I've been around the Internet a couple of times and know the importance of the opinions of other people, but more than that I can say that I genuinely know the importance of the opinions of other people, objective or subjective, good or bad. People who demand worship can't be worthy of it, so I hit up people I knew for inspiration and their thoughts, fired up notepad.exe and whipped up something in the space of about an hour, and now I'm going to put up the results of that hour, and if you want to read it, go ahead. If you want to comment on it, go ahead. You just know that in the event that you say something, whatever you have to say about it is yours and yours alone, so don't let a damn thing I write here make you change a damn thing you'd type out and post. Objective or subjective, good or bad, it doesn't matter. If I'm in the right going down this road in the first place like I think I am, you know how it'll go. If it doesn't... well, then, I guess that pretty much says whether I'm supposed to be writing or not, doesn't it?
With all that rubbish out of the way, here is the actual point of this thread. It's presented pretty much as-is, and is a bit stream-of-consciousness, but I had to get it out because if I kept sitting down, proofreading and editing it, I'd probably never get the courage to get the damn thing out the door again. I'm a mischievous fellow, though you might not know it from the wall of text above, so like all mischievous fellows I turned this story into a bit of a trick on a couple of people I know. They might not ever know it, since I don't believe they come here. I don't have any unrealistic expectations, and some of you may even know them, so I know that in the event that they do see this or the event that they don't, credit is owed where credit is due, so Kesson Daslef/Phobos Tancred Orphne is ©Kesson-Daslef and Tambrath Sul Anon is ©Tambrath_Anon/Pyra/Ceroshan/Auni.Asanali/Draka.Rutilas/Gada/Elionis/Galia (if you see this, quit changing your account name, you tricky bastard!), both fine upstanding people I knew from the old roleplaying scene of a place I used to go to before it collapsed into disuse and I, too, followed the lot of my old mates out. Last I saw it, the place was hanging by a thread, so maybe it got back onto its feet and is thriving again? Maybe it's still hanging by a thread, or maybe it's died as all things must? Whatever the case, it was a good two years, you lot. Here's to you!
RIGHT, THEN! RAISE THE CURTAINS!The 1388th Manifesto
By Kent Buckle, age 5 (Wait, what?)
making the little green dragon shiver involuntarily as he was hoisted up and swept into the arms of his platinum-scaled senior -- his platinum-scaled, best and only friend. . . his love -- reaching up to return the hug with trembling hands. Dead silence passed for several seconds he felt like withdrawing into, neither of them hearing or feeling anything but the other, their breathing and their heartbeat, the warmth of their body and the side of their face as they hugged like they were trying to melt into the other. Everything is good, he thought; everything feels right. "Won't it hurt?" he asked as he reluctantly broke away just the slightest bit, matching one eye to an eye of his -- an eye for an eye, or something like that. "It'll hurt, won't it?" "No, young one," he replied reassuringly, smiling warmly as he put the little green at ease with the simplest of words in a deep, warm voice, loving the intoxicatingly cute, childish voice whenever he could hear it. "O-okay..." Tambrath shifted onto his knees in the moonlit night, slowly lowering the green onto his thighs. "At ease..." he whispered when he shivered again like he was about to squirm away, already knowing what was coming. "Tell me it's not going to hurt," he whimpered, voice trembling, looking pleadingly into the platinum's eyes. "Tell me you'll be gentle." "I can't promise you'll take it gently." He looked off into the distance, his sheathed crotch slowly pressed against the space between the base of Kesson's tail and the backs of his legs, nothing but a buldged lump at this point. "But I'll do my best." "Hey." Tambrath looked back down and saw a dragon that looked completely different while being exactly the same, one who looked confident, forcing himself to look brave and putting so much stock in his word and his word alone. To be reassured like that was good enough, and it broke his heart to know that however much he trusted him wouldn't matter. Such a young and underdeveloped body wasn't physically meant for a fully-grown dragon. "I love you," the green dragon whispered, and they kissed. They remained like that for some time more, quiet and still, muzzles locked together. "I love you too," he replied in kind with a sad smile, and tightened his arms around Kesson's body as his bulging sheath slowly exchaslkhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
The End
* feuerflügel bows as the curtains lower back down
