Vicky

[size=1]Aaaah bitchin'. Here come the finals... Good show [strike]Blayze[/strike] DeLarge. I definitely enjoyed this round and wasn't sure if I was going to pull through. I can't wait for the final, it should definitely be interesting.[/size]

[size=1]I hate cooking because I can't cook. I make an absolute mess and it tastes horrible. I do, however, understand the passion. My girlfriend is a chef (a violent chef might I add...) so it means I don't have to cook normally and that I get to see what the big deal is. Apparently it's a massive deal lol.[/size]

[B]What would you tell your 10 year old self?[/B] [size=1]I wouldn't tell myself anything because I wouldn't know what to say. My memory is terrible when concerning the past but I know I was a quiet kid and a lot of things could have been prevented but I wouldn't risk it. I wouldn't risk being different, even though sometimes it's pretty damn horrid and changing drug dosages/therapists constantly gets on my nerves. But no, I wouldn't say anything, because I know I wouldn't listen =).[/size] [B]What would you ask your 10 year older self?[/B] [size=1]I'd ask if it was worth it.[/size]

[size=1]Difficult, definitely. I was hoping that one of you would do something that didn't involve love, but ah well. Shy's was very forward and quite sweet, also well written, but my vote goes to Anomaly this time. Her piece managed to touch me more somehow and I like the point of view. I was quite impressed that Shy managed to give us quite a brilliant glimpse into the character's life in a few words but the few inklings of despair in there put me off. The ending to Shy's, however, was definitely the best out of the two. I'm such a terrible critic... ...Anyway, [b]Anomaly[/b]. Totally awesome submissions guys. As you can tell I was stuck for reasons for why I picked my choice XD[/size]

[size=1]GET IN! I actually got it up. I'm disappointed for a number of reasons really. One I think some parts could have been majorly improved on but I'm not sure what to put and, two, I had managed for once to go just below the word limit with the original at about 600 words. But the new one just got up to, like, 800 =(. I was itching to put something terribly nasty in there... but I don't want to make it overboard. Too much too young. I hope I made it a tough one because I certainly liked my opponent's peace. Now let the voting begin... Bitchin'.[/size]

[SIZE=1]A/N: Originally the idea was about 600 words but it stretched into the limit of 800. Anyway, I said to my brother when I was little that I'm not scared of the bogey (boogie, boogey, 'tever) man because I knew he was here to protect me. My brother said "well, maybe the boogie man takes you to his house where I'm not there..." and it terrified me. As a teenager, it doesn't anymore... but with this I tried to put that fear back into that creepy childhood monster.[/size] [font=lucida sans][align=justify]Hello, there, can you see me? I?m wrapped in a duvet of haze when I?m not under your bed or hiding in your closet. I?m the real boogie man, dear boy, and I?ll take you away from this world, into mine. Come to my room. We?re away from the blue painted walls, the aeroplanes and fire engines, now we?re at the dungeon. I?ll walk you through the dark, don?t use your eyes ? you can?t see here ? let me be your eyes and walk you through the home. Use the sense of touch and make sure you?re always touching me. Do you feel that in the corner? It?s my little girl? she tried to escape by digging through the walls with her bitten fingernails. And, well, she didn?t quite make it because the walls caved in? no, no she wasn?t crushed, she choked on the dust? the same shit that?s still on her dried lips and green carapace skin like the algae covered lakes. Her skin even scares me? because it?s the only part of this house that still bares colour. Sick, sick algae colour. I can see you, boy. Look in my closet. What?s that smell, you ask? It?s making you ill, you say? Like vomit, used gauze, very sour and almost salty? Reminiscent, perhaps, of something you?ve eaten in the past? The closet is for secrets only? there?s a lot of people who haven?t come out of the closet. A lot of nasty little things you?re too young to understand yet. But I?ll make you understand and you can stay in my bed, I?ll watch you and you will make me unbearably sticky. Now just walk through the door of the closet with me; I know the haze is heavy here but it?s to keep them warm. The floor rises here, so just step up. It feels like hard, gritty cushions, and wet in some places because, yes, the blood hasn?t dried; it still drips from their faces off the bones where their skin once lay on their beautiful naked little bodies. The smell gets worse, I know, I know, though you?ll get used to it. Dead flesh doesn?t burn the nasal passages, only the brain and the eyes. No, no, the lights stay off; little boys should not see such mishaps. They are the past and you are all that matters to me now. Don?t worry as we get further about the even [I]stranger[/I] feelings beneath your feet, or the flies bumping against your legs. They?re being affectionate, nuzzling you. My hands are on your shoulders but put your arms out so you don?t fall; against the wall like a crucified God, that?s right, and feel the paint work. Feel the scratches that are my nails and teeth? or someone else?s. That foul salty smell gets stronger and tastes sweeter, that?s what I like to call [I]putrid ecstasy[/I], my boy. You?ll learn everything important before you leave this place. Oh, no. You?ve fell on your knees and touched something? [I]nasty[/I] down there. And the bile in your throat? too much to keep in? Yes. It rises in your throat and, look, I?m here with my hands over your mouth to catch most of it and wipe it away. You cough and choke and whimper but sshhh? shh? it?s all gone now. Bile is vile they say. I say it smells lovely ? like honey and nectar. I wipe it off your mouth with the back of my hand and pull you up and we walk again? and while you?re in the dark I take a quick taste. Exotic. Tropical. Juice. Nectar and honey from the pit of your stomach. That?s where your soul is, you know. And here. Here we are my sweet little boy. Now lay down in the bed and get yourself comfortable; I will play mummy, and read you a story, and kiss you goodnight. A [I]certain[/I] good night. Let me take a good look at you, first. Let me stroke you. My hands are cold like ice and colourless like they?ve always been and your face is hot, your eyes are deep and blue. They almost look into mine but in me you?ll find nothing except a void of tremendous love; I love you. I love you. I want to share everything with you? my world? and my dreams. All I want from you is that innocence that keeps me alive, and you can have the ferocious vulgarity that keeps me nested in the darkest fears of your brothers. ?I can see you?? Ah. Now [I]that[/I] is what I wanted to hear. That sweet, uncertain, sick-filled whisper from your throat. And in a moment you will be able to see me perfectly clear? we?ll become one, my boy. 1. 2. 3. Good night, little boy.[/font][/align]

[size=1]Mine is done... ...but not posted >_

[size=1]OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH WILL YOU MARRY ME?! .... As you can tell I'm dead excited. Oh yeah.[/size]

[size=1]Seven years in two months. Most of the old people I used to RPG with, mainly newbies at the time, have all gone =(. Except Steph I think... and I'm talking way back in the days when I didn't have to even have an audition thread, let alone a well-thought out game. I remember being constantly yelled at by Mitch because I didn't know what double posting was. I don't even remember double posting, haha. I made friends with Boo in the Anthology not too long after that and gots his MSN, so BOO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND. On OB. I also remember the Battle Arena and all the fun times I had there. I feel slightly left out because I'm never really involved in much OB drama... never really get into many heated debates or cause trouble... I might start some. I do miss the golden days of RPGing, pretty much when people were flushing out all these epic ideas everywhere. It just seems so slow these past few years, to be honest. And back in the day when people [i]actually[/i] talked to me on AIM ¬_¬. Now I'm stuck with about three people who talk to me once a fortnight on there =p.[/size]

[size=1]Battle of the Brits! I'm half terrified and half excited. Excited because I was actually hoping to face you, DeLarge, because I think our brains work in the same odd, dark and twisted way =p. Good luck everyone![/size]

[size=1]@ Morph: You're just not used to seeing me un-depressed =p. @ Steph: I'm afraid it's no secret now hahaa. Oh yeah, congrats to everyone else who won! =D[/size]

[size=1]I never get tired of this... I think I won twice now XD! Epic.[/size]

[size=1]Writer, author... eh, not sure what they call it nowadays. And the funny thing is I still want to be one. So yep, I never did want anything else, and I honestly doubt I'm going to change my mind. It's the only thing I'm good at. I'd prefer to have no job and no money if it meant I couldn't work in an industry I'd enjoy, which would be writing. Narrow-minded? Nah, just stubborn.[/size]

[quote name='Knuckles' Girl'][COLOR="Navy"][FONT="Comic Sans MS"]I was thinking of something else too, alot of members here are still in school so that could be a reason too.[/FONT][/COLOR][/QUOTE] [size=1]Yeah kids. You should all drop out and make more time for the love of your internet life! I mean, I turned out fine. :animesmil[/size]

[size=1][B]The Strangers[/b]. My girlfriend rented it - the rule is now that she NEVER, EVER picks a movie again. She was terrified of it but it was the most boring, cliched horror I'd ever seen. Seriously lol. Is it meant to be scarier because it's based on a real stories? So isn't... Thankfully it was her money she wasted and not mine.[/size]

[size=1]My brother got it today. He's a really good gamer so he makes it look incredibly easy (I can only do it on the easy level lol) but so far I like it. Has anyone else noticed that the Helghast have British accents? At least I think they do. I still love the way they scream when they get blown up. (*Can't offer any review or insight =p*)[/size]

[size=1][b]1. Would you rather be a dragon or Superman?[/b] Superman. Super-sex. [B]2. Would you rather have no arms or no legs?[/B] Legs because I use my arms too much... like punching people and raving. [b]3. Would you rather never be able to listen to music again, or would you rather never have sex again?[/b] No moosic. [b]4. Live a long life, but start losing your memory and your ability to do things on your own or live a short life but live it independantly until your death?[/b] Independent until I die cheers. [b]5. Have your acts of public drunkeness captured and broadcast on youtube'd or have your most intimate moments broadcast on Veoh?[/b] Drunkeness, easy one for me. It's already happened I think... though it's not youtube. [b]6. Find the most perfect guy/girl ever go on a few dates and find out that he/she is a cousin of yours or become the new Naked Cowboy of Bourbon Street[/b] What? [b]7. Would you rather meet one OBer of your choice and get the chance to meet them once a year for the rest of your life or meet a different OBer once a year every year for the rest of your life?[/b] Meet a new one each time so in case they don't like me/I don't like them I never have to see their face again. Here's one:[/size] [B]Would you rather eat 5 rotten cheese slices or lick a dirty toilet?[/b]

[size=1]I'm here 24hrs a day. That's because I leave my computer on when I'm not around and leave myself in the online list though =3.[/size]

[size=1]Unfortunately this has not been checked yet because I'm too tired. If anyone wants to read it now, though, go ahead and I'll have any mistakes fixed by the morning. The chapter isn't as interesting as the others because I'm building up for the next chapter and I also might revisit the ending... we'll see...[/size] [font=lucida sans][align=justify][center][b]Chapter II Drinking Buddies[/center][/b] There was a place that was filled with bells hanging from Bonsai just below a grassy green sky. The quality of light, that silver opalescent edge to the clouds and the dusk (before the dawn that never came) gleaming white gold. Of all the words and all the voices not one of them could convey – or come [I]close[/I] – to home. And that’s what he called it. The silence was chaotic, all the time. They never, ever spoke here, not even the trees. There were birds that couldn’t fly who stayed in the grass and picked on the seeds, gently, but they seldom made a sound. The only people there were beautiful, to say the absolute least. They were silent like usual and very careful in every move they made and, even though they didn’t speak, kind. He always came here. He didn’t know why but he always ended up back here. He kind of missed that chaotic silence, the birds and the sky. It was the most unique memory of his life and all he did each time was sit against a tree in the grass with a smile on his face. When the others began to move she came forward. She was a distant dream in his memory nowadays, almost non-existent because he tried to forget, though even her left over imprint remained beautiful. Her hair, like his, was so blonde it was almost white; her skin so pale, soft to the touch; lips red and eyes dark. The wings, too, were a trademark. The feathers brushed lightly against the ground with every movement and rested snugly on her back in grandeur. She offered her hand to him and he took it. She pulled him up and he smiled as she led him to the edge where everyone else stood. They jumped off but none of them fell because they spread their wings and flew much better than most creatures could even dare imagine. On the edge she turned back to him and smiled. She let go of his hands and backed off as she spread her wings and turned, still smiling, to join the others against the bright green sky. He moved forward and seemed so eager to join them but, for some reason, he stopped. The smile faded and the dream became a nightmare (at least in his eyes). It didn’t take long for them to disappear. If he had moved with them he would have fallen like an angel from heaven, so he didn’t even try, like every single time his mind brought him here. And like every other time he tucked his tail between his legs and sat in between the birds, who peaked on the ground like condemned little sinners and still ignored him. The Catcher only wished he had their wings. [center]*[/center] Waking up in the middle of a high street was never pleasant. The Catcher’s ears were assaulted with beeping cars and annoying high heels and he could only shake his head to get himself together. He rubbed his eyes and groaned at the dream; it reoccurred, constantly, the same situation and the same result. It was so symbolic and surreal that it made him sick to his stomach as well as the fact it revealed some dead and buried memories. Something nudged his boot. He stirred and opened his eyes slightly into the bright sun to which a silhouette appeared in front of him. He winced, looked the side and saw that the homeless anarchist was gone; people never did stay in one place for long. “Oh Christ…” He bit down on his lip when Katherine, still pale and stern-faced, stood before him in another business suit with his coat wrapped tightly in her arms. She didn’t look impressed. “Not quite,” she raised an eyebrow, “so you’re homeless. I should have gathered when you didn’t have the money to buy me coffee. Or pay for the newspaper.” “I’m not homeless… I had a rough night…” he said in defence. “Wife kick you out?” He laughed. “No, not exactly.” The Catcher sighed and pulled himself up putting hand marks on the glass behind him. “Can I have my coat back, please?” “I suppose, since you don’t look like you can afford another.” The tone of her voice made even the Catcher frown. He reached into his pocket and took out a handful of notes, although they weren’t the same currency as the UK. “I [I]do[/I] have money.” “Well, why don’t you know how to live in the city?” She handed him his coat back and the Catcher sighed. He shrugged it on and put away his euros and then he turned to Katherine (who still looked at him expectantly) with a frown. “I told you, I’m not used to this.” Katherine laughed. “You need a helping hand. Or a drinking buddy. Come on.” She moved off down the high street. The Catcher, confused, had to register what she had said before running after her. “I don’t drink though!” he blurted nearly running into a business man on a mobile phone. “You drink coffee, right?” she stopped suddenly and spun around almost knocking into him (and effectively ending up right in his face). “Yes.” “Then we can be drinking buddies. Also, you owe me for that suit. You can buy me a coffee everyday, because I always go for one at lunch. Which is now.” The Catcher sucked in his stomach and bit his lip. “No, I can’t do that.” Katherine had folded her arms and sighed like she was talking to a little child. The Catcher moved his eyes away and (still with his dream fixated in his head and irritating him) turned to leave, but Katherine grabbed the edge of his coat. “Listen, you’re quite pathetic. No offence.” She said harshly. “You can’t survive in the city and you’re trying to keep a low profile. You have no idea what you’re doing, do you? I’m like a hound dog in this place, I know it like the back of my hand. I could even get you a place to stay for free.” “It’s a nice offer but I think I’ll have to decline.” Although the Catcher didn’t know Katherine he knew, someone, she was always going to have the upper hand on him. She didn’t let go of his coat and instead pulled him back to face her, the height difference being quite amazing but Katherine still with the upper hand. “What [I]are[/I] you so afraid of?” He screwed up his face. “I’m not afraid of anything.” “Then come for a coffee with me,” she started with a grin, “and prove you’re not afraid of ‘anything’. It doesn’t hurt to have a few friends in the city.” The Catcher paused for a moment and had to consider that. That phrase was going to get stuck in his head all day like the dream now and he wondered, if she only knew his actual job, would she have said that. Though, really, he couldn’t speak from experience, since he hadn’t had friends in a very long time. “One drink, maybe,” he sighed, “but I need to -” “Great. Let’s get going.” People never did stay in one place for long. They went to the same coffee place as the day before when they had caused a commotion. The Catcher sat by himself drumming his hands to the revered acoustic symphonies being played over the speakers once again whilst Katherine went to buy the coffee. The Catcher was sure he couldn’t be doing this and sure he wasn’t supposed to be making friends like this… but she scared him. She terrified him because she was so forward and stern, because she was swayed at all by his kind looks and she could probably see right through him. “Rule number one of living in the city is to trust no one.” The Catcher looked up in a sort of frenzied twitching motion and nodded his head when she handed him the coffee. He took a sip before spitting it out. “Wait, what?” “Never trust anyone.” She repeated. “Except me, of course. You see, there’s rules you have to play, and risks you have to take. Every breath is a risk.” The Catcher nodded guessing this was his first lesson. “You have to watch people. Observe them so you know how to confront them. Sometimes you should be stern and in control, other times you should play the mouse. You know how to play mouse, but not the wolf.” The Catcher frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She grinned. “Of course you don’t, but nevermind,” she drank and smiled at him, “you’ll see what I mean later on. I know all the tricks to survive and trick people, it’s what I do.” “You mean like your job?” “Yeah, I mean like my job.” “What kind of weird job is that?” the Catcher looked quite dumbfounded but Katherine looked immensely entertained. “I’m an artist, of sorts.” “An artist?” he paused and tried to filter it through his already cluttered head. When the answer came to him he figured out how it was so obvious and his jaw dropped at her, only to induce another wicked grin from Katherine. “You’re a con artist, aren’t you?” he stuttered nervously. “Don’t tell the world.” She mumbled into her coffee. “Yes, a con artist. I don’t work at all. All these suits and all that I have is the result of being a wolf, not a mouse, and knowing how to bleed London dry for all it’s got. I like you, and that’s why I want to help you. I can teach you how to survive and you don’t even have to con people.” “How do I know you won’t con me?” Katherine laughed heartedly. “What the hell have you got that I want, [I]John[/I]?” “Oh, right… yeah….” The Catcher laughed soon enough with her and found that, for once, he quite enjoyed having someone to talk to who wasn’t about to off themselves. If anything the Catcher was a listener – he certainly had to be in his line of work – so he listened to Katherine for some time. She was born in London and lived there her whole life, moving out when she could and living on the streets. She had legally changed her name to Katherine Star when she could and she had never paid for anything in her life, except off the credit cards and courtesy of others. He knew so much about her now. From the way she stared with those cold black eyes and that perfect smile the Catcher, with a chill down his spine, realised she probably knew as much about him, even when he didn’t say a word. “Well, lunch is over, I have things to attend to.” She stood up, the Catcher stood up instinctively too. “No, don’t follow. Beggars and tramps follow. Stand your ground, chin up, and look refined… or try to.” He smiled. “And here, you can have this, seen as you stole my other newspaper pages.” “Thanks… I think…” She smiled in a little bit of pity. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, [I]John[/I].” He smiled, again. She left and he didn’t follow, instead trying to look as refined as possible, though he knew the smile on his face was too childish to keep that kind of illusion up. The Catcher sat back down and ran his hand calmly through his hair for the first time. He closed his eyes and took in all the sounds around him as he gathered together his head and weighed up his options – the risks – and of course the opportunities a head. He wasn’t even going to be in the city too long. There was something about Katherine Star that kept his attention on her; it was something familiar that he had seen before but it didn’t make him happy. Well, he smiled with her, and laughed with her, it was just there in the back of his mind, something wicked telling him he had to be sad. He didn’t know why, or what she reminded him of, though he hoped it would come to him before he left London. He shook his head and sighed. Unfolding the newspaper he left it all behind and flicked through the pages to get to the deaths today or at least the anniversaries to see if there were any names or faces he recognised. Midway through he stopped at a story in big, bold letters: [center][b]34-year-old Plummets from Office Building – Investigation Under Way[/b][/center] The Catcher bit his fingernails as he read it. It wasn’t the fact that the man was mentioned in the newspaper that terrified him now, it was the investigation. Only then did the Catcher realise that he had always been taking a risk in this job and it was only becoming more apparent now that Katherine was around… …maybe he could use her help, as much as he didn’t want it.[/align][/font]

[size=1]The kid is so cute, Korey ^_^ I might try and put together a sort of slideshow for all the hair colours and styles I've had... and I've changed it again =p. This picture kind of sucks but you know, I like it because you can see the writing on my wall. My hair is basically brown, blonde and white. Yeah, [i]white[/i]. [img]http://photos-e.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2352/99/32/695717705/n695717705_1225548_58777.jpg[/img] My brother has a new camera and walked in my room and asked me to pose. So I did.[/size]

[size=1]I played the first Killzone and it's still one of my favourite games, for some odd reason. I'm not really a gamer at all, since I hijack my brother's consoles all the time, but I plan on buying Killzone 2 for myself just to see. Or wait for my brother to buy it. I probably won't touch the multiplayer or online crap; it's not my thing. I just play the story mode...[/size]

[size=1]I made a rather bad impulsive decision today. Our neighbours are loud at 6 in the morning when getting their brats up for school. The kids scream and shout and jump around the house. The kids also get up through the night and scream and shout, to which the mother (I'm sure she's a druggie) responds by screaming and shouting. Also, they leave the dog out all day and it whines outside all the time because they won't let it back in. It's like a horror house next door. So I wrote them a polite note and posted it through the letter box (I was home alone trying to sleep with the whining dog and some kid crying and screaming) asking them to kindly stfu. I just basically mentioned all of the above stuff in a sarcastic tone and told them to shut up. Luckily there's two houses beside them so there's a fifty fifty chance they won't put [i]my[/i] windows through.[/size]

[size=1]Woolworths. The company that went bust, lol. I only worked for about three or four months. I had to quit (it was half me quitting half me being discharged) because of bad health or something, can't remember what it says on the paperwork exactly. So that was my first and only job I've had. Now I'm on the sick (around a hundred quid a fortnight) until my doctor stops writing me sicknotes and lets me go back. (And no I didn't kill anyone while I was at Woolworths ¬_¬.)[/size]

[quote name='Drizzt Do'urden']If you don't mind me asking what is getting your scaffolding pierced, I assume that it's an eyebrow but with you crazy brits you just never know. (though I picked up quite a bit of....slang? maybe when I was over there, mostly yelled at me at a club in london.) [/QUOTE] [img]http://www.townsvillebulletin.com.au/images/uploadedfiles/editorial/pictures/2008/06/05/savvy-her.JPG[/img] [size=1]That would be the scaffolding, but it's also called an industrial bar. It's actually just two piercings with a big bar shoved through them, lol. I said on impulse one day that I'm getting a smiley face tattooed on my thumb... and I still plan on going through with that XD.[/size]

[size=1]I made this thread because of a funny story. Basically, you get three piercings for five pound at a shop near my old school, wherein you have to model them afterwards. I signed up to get a scaffolding, tongue and belly button done. When I arrived, the man says to me "someone dropped out, would you like another piercing for free?" so I said yes. Then he said "...it's a nipple piercing." I went a head with it. (It's healing better than the belly button, to be honest, but it was the most painful experience ever because I'm so sensitive. I nearly cried... or... maybe the opposite... I can't recall). It looks good anyway but it was completely 'spur of the moment'. I've noticed I do this quite a lot after yesterday (you won't imagine how many people looked terrified for me when I told them the story). The first time I ever dyed my hair was impulse, as well, and look what happened there! I just hope I don't turn out like Pauly Unstoppable, no offence to him, heh. So what've you done on impulse? Did it hurt as much as my experience? There's about half a table left in the piercing place from my clawing now.[/size]