• across the chessboard
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    welcome to across the chessboard! we're an alice in wonderland based site with an original plot and slight modern dystopian twist and canon characters from alice's adventures in wonderland and through the looking glass and what alice found there, both by lewis carroll. for a longer summary, please visit our information center here. if you have any questions, feel free to give an admin a shout in the cbox (it's to your left- just click the chatter button and it should pop open). again, welcome, and we hope you join us!

    it is currently summer 2015 in london.
    it is currently summer-ish in wonderland.

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    Wonderland wasn't always this way. There was a time when it mirrored medieval England, albeit with a few magical elements: a few quirks and eccentricities that made it truly unique. While all feared the Queen's mercurial temper and the fine blade of her Guillotine, all was well, until a little girl named Alice Liddell disturbed the status quo and sparked a revolution. The kingdom began to fall into decay as the taint of the modern world invaded. History is beginning to repeat itself and no one is happy. As the Queen of Hearts tangles in a battle of wits and riddles with the Cheshire Cat, the rest are starting to wonder ... is it true that the White Rabbit is bringing humans to Wonderland when they themselves are banned from going to London?

    myrmidones of the queen — 12/∞ 
    myrmidones of the cat — 08/∞ 
    unaffiliated — 09/∞ 
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AGE: 44
QUOTE/LYRICS: I seem to be having this tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle. As soon as I reach some kind of definite policy about what is my kind of music and my kind of restaurant and my kind of overdraft, people start blowing up my kind of planet and throwing me out of their kind of spaceships!
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blake everly


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Aug 11 2015, 05:30 PM
[dohtml]<center><div class="ptem1"><div class="ptem2"><div class="ptem5">

<p>Blake stayed in that spot for what felt like an eternity, where he'd tumbled out of the rabbit hole, as tears dripped down his cheeks into the dirt. Really it was closer to fifteen minutes or so, but, as Fintan had said, forever is only a second. His whole life had collapsed on him in an instant. He felt lost, confused, and very much alone. </p>

<p>He eventually, shakily, pushed himself to his feet. He wiped his eyes on his suit sleeve and brushed as much of the dirt off himself as he could. He whined softly at the bruise on his back, but he knew that was really the least of his worried. He needed to figure out where he REALLY was and how he could get back home. Or, at the very least, figure out if any of his money would work in this strange new place so he knew he wouldn't starve or have to sleep outside.</p>

<p>Even in his terrified state like this, barely able to comprehend his surrounding, Blake was still as rational and stable as possible. It was almost impressive. It would have been more impressive if he hadn't just spent the last fifteen minutes crying. </p>

<p>He cleared his throat, took a deep breath to calm himself, tugged on his sleeves to straighten them, and started walking into the Royal City. He could see a castle in the distance. Perhaps that would be a good place to start. Surely if he were going to be brought to a strange new country it's ruling class would have at least SOME insight into his presence there. It only stood to reason. </p>

<p>Blake nodded and set off toward the castle, trying to build up some kind of confidence as he did so. What even would he say? What if he sounded just as crazy to these people as it sounded in his head? <i>'Oh, excuse me your Majesty, but I seem to have been brought here via magic portal by a man who turned into a rabbit!'</i> Blake sighed softly. Oh well. It would have to do. Maybe if he sounded crazy they'd give him a bed to sleep off this madness. </p>

<p>He made his way to the castle, stepping into the courtyard and looking around. He really should find a guard or someone to talk to first... He wouldn't want to go up to the actual leaders and just demand to know what was going on! He could just imagine someone doing that to HIS queen! They'd probably be tased on sight. Or worse. </p>

<p>He spotted someone in red armor walking not too far off, but off the path he was currently on. He was at first worried to bother the man... the knight, by the looks of all that shiny armor. But he needed to. It was the first person he'd seen since Fintan disappeared. </p>

<p>He started to trot over to him, regretting the fact that he was wearing a rather stiff suit and that his tailbone was still quite bruised.</p>

<p><b>"Um... e..excuse me, sir?" </b> he asked as he approached, blue-grey eyes wide and still slightly misty with tears. <b>"Pardon, but I'm... I'm quite lost. " </b></p>

</div><center><div class="ptem4"></div><div class="ptem3">"Lost time is never found again." -
Benjamin Franklin</div></center></div></div></center>[/dohtml]
Aug 7 2015, 02:22 AM
I'll be posting all one-shots of JUST blake and his sad life here, to keep them from clogging up the past/future thread box. I anticipate there will be a few of them.
Aug 6 2015, 07:52 PM
[dohtml]<center><div class="ptem1"><div class="ptem2"><div class="ptem5">

<p>Blake had spent the night at Luca's, since they'd agreed to go to church together in the morning it was only logical. He'd brought his Sunday best with him.</p>
<p> He wanted to wake up to see Luca's smiling face every day for the rest of his life. Smell fresh raspberry scones, breakfast tea, and the scent of the most beautiful man in the world. He'd never felt happier. He loved mornings like this. He wanted mornings like this to last forever. </p>

<p>He put on his powder-blue dress shirt and grey suit, adjusting the sleeves in the mirror as Luca walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around Blake's waist and kissing his cheek. </p>

<p>Blake blushed a soft shade of red, but smiled anyway. <b>"What's all this affection for?" </b>he asked, reaching back and running a hand through the taller man's hair, tousling it gently.</p>

<p><b> "Do I need a reason?" </b>Luca grinned sweetly <b>"Besides, isn't watching you blush like that reason enough?"</b> Luca tuged on his own neck tie in order to straighten it in the mirror and smooths it down. <b>“Are you nervous?” </b>Luca asked.</p>

<p><b>“Nervous?” </b>Blake sputtered, <b>“Why would I be nervous?”</b></p>

<p><b>“Mostly because the little old ladies will be fanning themselves over how hot you look.”</b> Luca teased.</p>

<p>Blake managed to blush deeper <b>"Don't tease me." </b>he whined <b>"I'm trying to get ready. We're going to be late. " </b></p>

<p>Luca straightened Blake's messy salt and pepper hair and helped him with his sleeve cuffs. <b>"Let's do something fun after church." </b>he said, looking into Blake's eyes.</p>

<p><b> "O...okay... what did you have in mind?"</b> Blake asked, finding himself trapped in Luca's big brown eyes. God they were so beautiful. Everything about Luca was beautiful. It gave Blake plenty of ideas of what they could do after church, and none of them were appropriate thoughts for someone who wasn't going to confession.</p>

<p><b> "Oh, I don't know... "</b> Luca said, the ends of his smile tugging impossibly further up at the corners of his mouth <b>"we'll come up with something."</b> He pecked Blake on the lips quickly <b>"Come on, we're going to be late.”</b></p>

<p>He took Blake by the hand and led him out of the house. </p>

<p>... </p>

<p>They sat in a pew together, and they looked perfectly natural that way. Blake wasn't exactly used to going to church regularly, but you wouldn't know it. Especially sitting next to Luca, the good little altar boy that he was. And it was that good little altar boy look that was killing Blake right then. </p>

<p>Blake was still thinking of what 'fun' they could be having later, and it was incredibly distracting. He found himself touching his shoe to Luca's just to see if he noticed. Gently shifting in his seat to press his knee to Luca's knee. Luca never seemed to react which only made Blake's heart race more. Luca was always so affectionate on their dates and he knew he was always so awkward about it. But he also knew that CHURCH wasn't really the place to flirt. </p>

<p>Blake couldn't really help himself, though. Every moment he was with Luca he felt himself filling up with happiness. He wanted to hug him and kiss him. He wanted to hold his hand and show the world. He wanted to scribble sappy love poems in the margins of the nearest book.... probably defacing a bible with gay poetry was a bad idea, but he couldn't help wanting to anyway. </p>

<p>... </p>

<p>The rest of the service passed without incident, and they went back to Luca's place afterward. The day was still young but Luca had already shed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and lost his tie. <b>“I was thinking about David and Jonathan the other day.”</b> Luca brought up.</p>


<p><b>“Yeah, I was reading my bible and I was thinking about how intimate their relationship was. They knit their souls together, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul too.” </b></p>

<p>Blake felt his mouth get dry<b> “Oh?”</b> he repeated.</p>

<p>Luca looked over to Blake. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. <b>“I think it reminded me of us.”</b> Luca saied and Blake’s heart felt like it’s about to burst. They walked quietly for the rest of the way back to Luca’s.</p>


<p>Blake was blushing a soft pink by the time they got up to Luca's flat, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over the nearest chair. </p>

<p>Luca burst out laughing and hugged Blake tightly. <b>"You're so adorable!"</b> he said, squeezing the smaller man as he lifted him up in the hug. </p>

<p>Blake squeaked, flailing as his feet left the floor <b>"P..put me down!"</b> he protested <b>"What are you doing that for?!" </b></p>

<p>Luca set him back on the floor, smiling down at him <b>"Because you are. Don't think I didn't see you all throughout service. Trying to play footsie with me, looking all innocent when I looked your way. So CUTE! "</b> Luca kissed him quickly.</p>

<p><b> " you did see that, then..." </b>Blake said, looking up at Luca shyly <b>"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you I was just-" </b></p>

<p><b>"Just being your adorable self."</b> Luca interrupted, <b>“No, I stand corrected, just being your beautiful self” </b>Luca said, softly touching Blake's flushed cheek. <b>"Now, go change out of that suit.” </b></p>

<p><b>"B...but I didn't bring any other clothes.... " </b>Blake started to protest. </p>

<p>Luca smirked<b> "That’s the point"</b> He said, playfully unbuttoning his own shirt as he strolled into the bedroom.</p>

<p>Blake turned beet red and briefly wondered what he'd end up wearing later before kicking off his shoes and running after the man of his dreams.</p>

</div><center><div class="ptem4"></div><div class="ptem3">"Greatly beloved were you to me;
your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women" 2 Samuel </div></center></div></div></center>[/dohtml]
Jul 17 2015, 02:29 AM

<div class="tabs">

<div class="tab">
<input type="radio" id="tab-1" name="tab-group-1" checked>
<label for="tab-1">Emily</label>
<div class="content">

<table><td><div class="atem12">

<p>suggested face claim: any! Really, I couldn't care less what you decide she looks like. Even something like ethnicity doesn't matter to me here, as long as her name is Emily. As you'll see in reading below, Blake didn't have a 'type' that mattered. </p>

<p>You met Blake Everly in your last year of high school, in a Literature class.You'd heard rumors in earlier years that he was gay, but you were never one to believe rumors. Really, Blake was obviously just a gentleman and a nerd and was picked on for that. You were absolutely smitten. </p>

<p>It started as a little crush, watching him from the corner of your eye as you jotted down your English notes. You caught him staring back once or twice. It soon blossomed into a proper High School Sweetheart relationship. You loved history, he loved literature, and you both loved spending time together cuddled up on the couch with a hot cup of tea. </p>

<p>You ended up going to the same university and the romance followed you there. You pursued your love of history and did well in your classes. It was easy to keep your relationship from distracting you, because you were determined to wait to make it physical (for one reason or another). Blake seemed suspiciously okay with it. </p>

<p> You married him a week after graduating with your Bachelor's Degree, and moved in with him properly. You found a wonderful job at a local museum that you loved, and he found work at a local primary school. It was a grand set-up to start a family. </p>

<p>Your husband, however, seemed distracted. While you wanted intimacy he seemed more interested in sitting on the couch with a cup of tea like you were still in high school. He was still a fine man, even a decent husband... But....</p>

<p>By the time you were 30, you told him there was something missing. There was no spark, not enough intimacy to make you feel loved and happy. So, you divorced. (how you feel about that is up to you. )</p>

<p>You moved to the United States for a while and lost touch with your ex-husband. You learned all about America's fascinating history (and anything else you did there!), but, now you've moved back home to England. Specifically, London. You heard HE moved here after the divorce to... but... It's a big city. Maybe you won't even run into him.</p>

<p><b><i>SO, that was longer than I thought it would be! Anyway, Emily would be 42 or 43 now, and her family background would be completely up to you. What her motivation was for waiting until marriage is up to you. How she felt about the divorce, how she felt about Blake, how she FEELS about Blake, whether or not she realizes he's gay, even what she looks like is ALL on you!</p>

<p>Make her your own! All I've done is give you a past romance and a degree in History with some museum experience! I assumed she'd probably be a museum director by now, but again, that's up to you! Enjoy!</p></i></b>
<td><div class="atem13" style="background-image: url(; margin-right: 5px;"></div></td></table>
<div class="atem2">Emily — 42 or 43 — Museum Director?— Romantic—Devoted </div>


Jul 14 2015, 05:51 PM
[dohtml]<center><div class="ptem1"><div class="ptem2"><div class="ptem5">

<p>Blake entered his house, a fresh spring in his step as he unwrapped a large, old, musty book from the paper bag that was it's only protection from the elements. His eyes sparkled with the child-like joy of Christmas morning as he looked down at the beaten and nearly worthless collection of Sherlock Holmes in his hands. It was cheap, and ugly, and looked like it had either been run through a bath or a fire at some point, but Blake couldn't care less. To him, it was beautiful. And he would have paid an arm and a leg to get it no matter how unremarkable it was. He was just that way sometimes.</p>

<p>He went to his 'office' to put it away. It wasn't so much an office as it was just a place for him to put his books, given that he was a teacher and thus had an office at work, but he called it an office anyway because it wasn't nearly big enough to be called a library and having a home office made him feel more official. He went to the nearest bookshelf and prepared to tuck the massive tome neatly away, but frowned instead. There was no room. There was less than no room, in fact. There was negative room. The books on the shelves looked like they might burst forward off the shelves like tupperware in an infomercial at the slightest provocation.</p>

<p>So he moved down to the next shelf, and found the same... and then the next bookcase... and then the little stand beside the bookcases... and then the top of his desk.... and then the inside of his desk drawers.... He paled slightly. There was no room anywhere. No where for him to put his beautiful new bauble to admire even though he could quote from all the stories already at the drop of a hat. It was at that thought that he realized he might have a bit of a problem. How many collections of each of his favorite books did he have, exactly?</p>

<p>He looked over the room again and started counting. It was a tedious affair, making him rather late for his pre-supper tea, but it was a necessary evil. He realized he had at least 3 copies of every book, and a dozen of his favorites in different editions and conditions and prints. He didn't have a single story he hadn't read at least twice. Maybe it was time to make room for something else, or at the very least, better versions than the ones he had. </p>

<p>He spent hours meticulously choosing books to put into boxes to take away. He didn't want to throw any of them out, determined to donate them, but he didn't want to donate any of the really awful conditions either.... of course, the ones in terrible condition were the ones he cherished most, and so remained on the shelves anyway. Instead, two rather decent-sized boxes were filled with relatively modern and quite well taken care of versions of various books including Sherlock Holmes, the works of Alexander Dumas, plenty of Shakespeare, and, admittedly, an under-appreciated first edition copy of James Joyce's Ulysses. </p>

<p>It was nearly eight at night before he was finished, which severely derailed Blake's usual evening plans. He was well past his tea time and hours past his usual dinner time as well. If he made something quickly he'd at least be able to catch his Friday night ritual of EastEnders and MasterChef on BBCOne. It was a terrible habit to admit to himself, but Blake was an incredibly British creature of habit. He went to bed at 10:30 sharp, and woke up at 6:30 sharp. As always. </p>

<p>The next morning immediately after waking he looked up on his rather old and slow laptop where the best place to donate his books would be. He remembered the Community Centre not too far up the road and decided to go with that. He called ahead to let them know he was coming later, then had his usual breakfast and tea. A bit after eleven in the morning or so the little man picked up his boxes and carried them off to the Centre. He was rather looking forward to having the extra space, really. He was already imagining all the wonderful old books he would fill it with. So few places catered to his particularly appalling taste nowadays. </p>

<p>It wasn't too far of a walk, though the boxes of books were heavier than he'd expected after the first couple blocks. He managed to make it there in one piece, but he dropped one of the boxes as he opened the door, spilling books all over the floor. He turned beet red as he scrambled to shove them back into the box before anyone saw, though he knew it was too late. He was spotted before he'd even made it to the door. </p>

</div><center><div class="ptem4"></div><div class="ptem3">“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.” -Oscar Wilde</div></center></div></div></center>[/dohtml]
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