Vicky

[size=1]Haha that's pretty neat. You know, I was intending on dying my hair pink at one point =p. Pink just ain't my colour at all. I was wondering whether to give some little bits of advice and critic your pranks but I decided to refrain from it since no one else is either XD. Unless you want that... It's still very entertaining to read though. Nice job, haha.[/size]

[size=1]Really, anything scientific isn't [i]nature[/i], so therefore the majority of civilization is against nature. I think this kind of topic, that being asexual reproduction, will be a taboo for a good fifty years or so after it's perfected, or even more, but it's just going to end up like all the other stuff that was 'against nature' - allowed and mostly accepted.[/size]

[size=1]'God didn't intend it...' God didn't intend for us to be vegetarians, but I don't see them guys getting the stick. =) If we shouldn't be messing with nature then we should let disease run its course. We shouldn't even have doctors. I think the God excuse is a rather weak one - science should be allowed to run its course and people should realise it's not [i]against[/i] nature, really. Our [i]nature[/i] is running around with animal skin, no computers, no internet and nothing of the sort that was brought about by science. Just because it's man-made doesn't mean God didn't intend it.[/size]

[size=1]Why you gotta undermine me like that D? =( Haha, well, I suppose we can have two seperate utopia's - of course, it doesn't matter if women can only create women, since it's a women utopia ;p.[/size]

[size=1][quote name='Ace']"Why?"[/quote] Lesbian utopia. Me and a friend had a discussion about that when we heard about asexual reproduction a couple of months ago. The whole lesbian utopia is on wikipedia somewhere - face it, at some point you men are going to be completely obsolete =p. Joking aside, I've no serious opinion on the matter. One small leap for science methinks.[/size]

[size=1]Don't take this the wrong way Darren, but I penned you as a guy who would have a nipple piercing =p. I once spoke to a guy online who had a full back piece and he said when he got his tattoo done it felt like a blunt needle on his skin and didn't hurt that much at all. He said it only really hurts afterwards - which isn't so bad because you can wither in pain on your own without looking like a wimp in front of the hard tattooist XD. You should totally get it done ;D I was going to get my eyebrow done, too, but I have a scar on the eyebrow I want it on and if the piercing rejects then it'll just make it look worse. I might try and get one surface piercing and if that rejects then I won't do my eyebrow.[/size]

[size=1]Kudos for the Wednesday top, Cat. And a friend of mine actually has that necklace, the pentagram one. You actually look like an older version of her now that I think about it haha XD Cool pictures. [img]http://a359.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/72/l_cdda2d8ba0dc204ad7e61a598e7c4d9e.jpg[/img] New one from Manchester Gay Pride. What a weekend![/size]

[size=1]Use your imagination and write it as best as you can. That's all I'd say. You can have all the brilliant grammar, sentence structure and all that jazz in the world, and you might possibly [i]ace[/i] it, but the only way you'd astonish people is if the link between your pen and your thoughts is absolutely wired together like a life support system. You have to sort of delve into the back of your head and pull out the best imagery you can, then glue it back together with vocabulary, syntax and lexis. Otherwise, you can easily look up a load of techniques to use on the internets.[/size]

[size=1]Petite note: I will be continuing this, but that probably only matters to Chibi XD. I'm just juggling a novel and homework so I haven't had time to write it. Anyone have anymore comments or critics while I'm grueling through the next installment? Cheers for reading Chibi ^_^[/size]

[size=1]Space Goat. Or just Goat, more often Goat in fact. There are dozens and dozens of people who don't even know my real name in real life - it sounds farfetched, but everyone calls me Goat nowadays. I prefer it to my real name because I get this kind of reaction: "So what's your name?" "Goat." "...what?" "Goat." "Goat?" "Yeah. Goat." "LOL." And people remember my 'nickname' more often than my real name. It fits a lot better with just... me. Vicky is odd and boring. The only reason I haven't changed on here is because people would probably forget who I was - that, and, I'm lazy. The nickname came across when I was a wee one. I don't even know what it means, it was all very random. Someone just said to me that I was a Space Goat, and he was going to call me that from now on. I said it was weird and it was never going to catch on. Lo and behold it's more used than my real name... which is partly my fault. I introduced myself to someone (because I was scared of 'em) by Space Goat one time and he found me the next week (where I happen to spend my weekends nowadays too) and shouted me - then everyone I hung out with outside school called me that. It picked up in school after awhile too. And after that, everywhere else, and I began to like it. 'Oi Goat' just has a ring to it. There you have it.[/size]

[size=1]Real name. Stop asking =p.[/size]

[size=1]Ooh yeah. There's nothing I find more intriguing than body modifications. Piercings, implants, scarification, tongue splitting, tattoos... it's all something I've been quite interested in, although having a crap job (quitting in a month) and being underage for most prevent me from getting a lot. So what's your take on it? Got any? Want any? Know anyone with them? Me, personally, I love it. Well, most body mods, some I aren't too keen on (like tattoos of people's names, not too interesting). I have friends with a lot of body mods - one of my friends has three lip piercings, piercings through his cheek, nose and ears (plus a tattoo). I also know someone who I don't see anymore but he did have his tongue split. Tomorrow, I'm getting my septum pierced (which is in the middle of the nose, like a bull ring) and when I quit work I plan on getting snake bites (left and right side of lip) and possibly my tongue for the fun of it. I also plan on getting a few tattoos but I'm not too sure on that one. Most certainly I want a few small leopard print spots from the back of my ear down the side of my neck (if anyone watches Star Trek, think Dax) but I'm aware that not many tattooist do that due to the 'gang' implications facial and neck art has. I'm not really thinking on tattoos right now - I'll do that when I'm older and rich. I'm also fully aware most people think body mods are weird and 'ruin' your body. They do ruin your body... if you do them [i]wrong[/i]. But having the right idea of what you want and being careful about it shouldn't ruin it, more over enhance your look, especially if you're into this sort of thing. Oh, and let's not have the 'god gave you a perfect body' thing... we all know nobody's perfect.[/size]

[size=1]People around England don't have a problem understanding the Mancunian accent or dialect, but people from other characters often do. I have problems with the people who come into work because my accent is really, really heavy. Few terms that other people probably have: [B]Innit:[/B] Isn't it [B]Mint:[/B] Cool/good [B]Kosher:[/B] Cool/good/quality .etc (don't get offended if you're Jewish, my Jewish friend says it more than me) [B]Safe:[/b] Gangster hello or okay (mostly hello though) [B]Mard arse:[/b] Coward [B]Dimp:[/b] Cigarette end [B]Shut your gob:[/b] Shut up [B]Demic:[/b] Doesn't work [B]Spends:[/b] Money [B]Chuddy/Chud:[/b] Chewing gum [B]Ar kid:[/b] 'Our' kid [B]'Angin:[/b] Disgusting [B]Ya big Nezza:[/B] I don't have a clue but I use it. Refers to the Babylonian King, though. [B]Scran:[/b] Get something to eat [B]Pure:[/b] Loads [B]Dibble/Pigs:[/B] Police officers [B]...'Ee ar!':[/B] Like... Oi, I don't even know what this is about but even I use it. [B]Sound:[/b] Okay [B]On yer bike:[/b] F-off. [B]Gormless:[/B] Dumb [B]Nowt:[/B] Nothing [B]Down ar [our] end[/B]: Where I live [B]Dead:[/b] Very [B]In a bit:[/b] Bye [B]Bang out of order:[/b] Wrong, really out of order... [B]Ginnel:[/B] Alleyway [B]Rank:[/b] Dirty, nasty [B]Scav:[/B] Borrow [B]Bagsy:[/B] I want it. Normally used it as kids like in games... "bagsy not it" or somet' like that. [B]Decked:[/B] Punched [B] There's a few others really but they don't spring to mind because I don't pay attention too much to the words I use. I should post a video sometime and see how many people understand it XD[/size]

[size=1]They're both as bad as each other. Granted perhaps Barbie is less, but she's still a twig with an abnormal sized head. Plus, despite having all these careers, the ***** got pregnant. All the little girls want to be like their Barbie. I never did play with Barbie though; Action Man was where it was at. I think the Simpsons episode about Lisa Lionheart covers this subject, anyway XD.[/size]

[size=1]Pending a picture. I'm not too sure about this, so drop me a line if you want anything changed. [align=justify]I suppose I never was, by the social norm, a nice person. No. I was always a little blunt and mean when I wanted to be, swiftly followed by a half-arsed apology and a joke to make them smile. All the times I?d hurt people I wanted to see them smile again so I don?t feel too bad about myself. And it works, doesn?t it? Another thing was mirrors. I had always had something for mirrors; when I walked past a reflective surface I would glance at it, not so much to check how I looked, just to see I was still there. Mirrors were great fun, to laugh into, pull faces into, and grin into to test your smile for the camera before the night out with your palsied group of friends. But this time was different. There wasn?t just me in the mirror anymore, I could see it behind my eyes. Green eyes that weren?t as bright as they should have been, confused expression and a genuine fear of myself. Or rather, what was now inside my Gulliver. I hadn?t too much followed the recent events shown on the news and now I realised that perhaps I should have; it could be some sort of explanation for the stranger in the hindsight. I ran my hand down the mirror and sighed at it. I knew full well who was in my head ? they were related to me, a long, long dead relative from Poland where my family hailed from originally. [I]He[/I], Leszek Balcerowicz, was a murdering, masochistic rapist long before the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth in the 16th century. Records must have been bleak then for such a man to get away with those crimes and, as my family proves to this day, raise a family on his horribly sadistic terms. He wanted to hurt people. I could feel it in the memories; in every instant there was a great sense of satisfaction, enjoyment and pleasure from wrapping his hands around their throats and maybe taking away their purity. There were hundreds of victims all with the same hare-eyed faces embedded into my mind, cries of fear and terror in a language I didn?t know all too much about. Of course, I was still me. I was still sarcastically nice to people, not sharing [I]his[/I] tendency towards masochism. Then again, I can feel it seeping through the crevice of my own existence, fighting to be dominant, fighting to actually feel the blood on [I]our[/I] tongue again. I think I was alright on my own. I was happy with my friends or whoever I could find, pushing the memories to the back of my head? but on my own? No, that was a different story. I had trouble remembering what memories were mine and what were his? sometimes I even believed I was living in 16th century Poland when I awoke from a nightmare. The truth was I had always been far from such a place all those years ago; my family were wealthily, I was an only child, independent, with my own home and my own money, the latest technology I could afford and a rather optimistic outlook on life. From my memories of him he was the opposite. There were some sweet memories, like he had a split personality, or multiple ways of dealing with situations ? I don?t know. That?s why it was so hard to distinguish which part was mine. I remember one distinct memory of his wife after his children had grown up and left; he sat there in a room where the walls squelched out death and the stench of an old, damp existence, the paint peeled away. She - [I]it[/I] - was sat there in a chair, silent, never moving. Its body is limp, blood stood still, frozen breathing, just sitting there seemingly staring at him. It wants to escape from this wretched shell, from him forever, but even he stares back at it as it sits silently dead. It wants to leave him but it cannot find its way through the dark, its legs twisted and thin like the old, crimson-red dress it wore, now torn and far from beautiful. But it is not the smell, the darkness, or eyes that scare him; it is its flesh, the only part of it that still bears colour. A greenish tint equal to that of old wooden beams that rise from algae covered lakes; the skin has hardened over time, a grotesque carapace that traps whatever it is inside that wills for freedom, that is the thing that looks at me through those blank eyes. The grey room is silent, but it screams. It screams so loud that it racks his ears... he made it stop once. It?s silent and it?s screaming at him still. Why can't he stop it from screaming again? And why doesn't it move? He remembers on that night she wouldn?t shut up, blurting about something silly and pathetic. The dogs wouldn?t stop barking, the walls joined in ? none of them would shut up. He guessed he would have to make them. The images were so vivid in my mind; first, he hit the dogs, and broke their teeth before they could bite his hands. He kicked and hurt them until they tried to scramble away with broken legs, wailing and failing. Then, he told her to shut up. But she [I]wouldn?t[/I]. She just kept screaming, even more so after two black hounds lay bleeding from the snouts on the floor. He tied her to a chair and wrapped his hands around her neck. He looked at her in the eyes, smiling like it was almost some kind of sick joke awaiting a final punchline, and savoured the moment. There was something ? I could feel it in the memory ? that edged him onwards. He pressed until his fingerprints were on her neck, until her breath became shorter and shorter, gagging in and out through her nose. It was quite a sight to him, quite a revelation. When slipped limp in the chair under his touch and he blinked at her for a moment in the realisation of what he had done. No tear came from his eye and no regret; he just sat back on the couch and stared at the her. She loved him, he knew this. And maybe, he thought, maybe he loved her at some point too. But then? ?why didn?t she move? I shook my head violently at the memory and the thoughts of a sociopath in my head. I looked back in the mirror and swallowed, hard. There was no way that I knew of I could live with his, no way that I could actually go on without hurting someone. I thought about the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed my room mate, closing my eyes tightly as if it were ? ?Rose? Hey Rose, you ready?? There came a knocking at my door. I turned and looked at it, momentarily snapping out of my new found obsession. I breathed in and ran a hand through my hair, nodding to the mirror. ?Yeah. Yeah I?m comin?, give me a minute??[/size][/align]

[size=1]Cheap things. I've never been one to spend money on clothes at all but I wear a variety. Sometimes I just wear normal jeans (which are actually men's anyway) and a black shirt or top. On most days I wear the clothes I've painted things on or made patches for. The majority of my t-shirts have painted slogans on them, my favourite being a yellow one I have with black slogans on it, hazard lines, Crass-ness and load'sa symbols. Then some other days I wear my leather pants and my long coat which makes me look like a bit of a 'goth'. I have another pair of pants that I made out of two pairs - one leg is black and the other is white. So it really depends what kind of mood I'm in. I'm not really ashamed to say at some points I probably end up fitting into some kind of group - sometimes I look like a lesbian, sometimes I look like I haven't washed them in about a month (I probably haven't), sometimes I look like a psychopath... anything. I definitely don't, at any point, look normal, haha. Oh, I have a variety of really colourful shirts as well that I like to wear. And bondage tops/trousers (ebay, 99p!). I tend to always wear my leather jacket as well, it's probably the most expensive thing I've got... and I didn't buy it =D.[/size]

[size=1][B]1. What level of education are you at? Highschool, college?[/b] Currently just High School, but I would barely call it education, nor call myself educated, really, haha. I start college on Wednesday to do English Language, English Literature, Philosophy and Geography at AS-Level. Although I already have an A-Level Sociology under my belt which I did in High School, so I've got both College and High School 'education'. [B]2. What's your favorite subject, or if you're in college, what's your major?[/b] English Language and Literature. But in college (is it the same in America as in England?) you can take on three subjects at A-Level so I'll be doing both English subjects and philosophy. [B]3. Why is it your favorite subject or field of choice?[/B] English Language and Literature... lol. [B]4. What's your ideal job along the field you are studying?[/B] Author, writer, something along those lines. I plan on going into University (somewhere where they actually have a good writing course *rolls eyes* which won't be in this country) and getting a Masters Degree in Creative Writing, then seeing what kind of job that can get me. I've always had my eyes on book publishing though, but we don't talk about that *mumbles*. [B]5. Talk about whatever it is that interests you! Why is it so damn interesting? Why'd you choose it, blah blah blah.[/B] English because, in Britain nowadays, if you speak English no one understands you. So it's sorta like you've learned French or somet'; plus, I'm good at it. That above all makes it interesting because I can actually [i]do[/i] it, and I can't do a lot, haha.[/size]

[size=1]I'm into kicking, biting, headbutting and playing dirty. I did Tae Kwon Do for a long long time when I was a wee one, but I gave it up because going up a belt cost damn loads. I didn't have to fight too much until I started going out a lot and met a load of idiots - violence doesn't solve anything, except the problem with the inbred rat who thinks he's amazing after watching one round of cage boxing. Tae Kwon Do taught me the basics, really. I don't care for any kind of honour because that's just silly. If a guy attacks me and he ends up on the ground if I hit him back, [i]of course[/i] I'm not going to let him up. If someone tries to mug me then [i]of course[/i] I'm going to knee him in the groin and try and pull his hair out. They're not interested in playing nice, so I ain't either. Plus I have a mean bite that's better than my punch =3.[/size]

[size=1][img]http://lolcats.com/images/u/07/39/lolcatsdotcomw7vy7i1nuvqgi8e6.jpg[/img] Andrew. I sometimes catch him drunk or hungover on MSN. Drinks more than I do (or did... whatever). [img]http://lolcats.com/images/u/07/38/lolcatsdotcombbmr7ifd3ig2xxkb.jpg[/img] DigitalBoy-o and his shadow =p. [img]http://lolcats.com/images/u/07/39/lolcatsdotcomfpdaagfkhl1xt0rd.jpg[/img] Errm... Clurr XD[/size]

[size=1]Cheers m'dear =).[/size] [center][2][/center] [align=justify]Though memory was vague Sin could recall a time in his teenage years when he would consume unhealthy amounts of alcohol, drugs, and anything else he could gauge in his system. The reason was to drown out the horrid reality of the real world, to suppress the crap in his head. Nowadays, since he had found a grimmer, darker way to deal with it, he didn’t indulge in the party scene (he was more inclined to sit at home and do a line). It was a cheap shot to keep the mind entertained, stop you thinking too much… it was like television, media, illegal drugs, legal highs… Jake nudged Sin in the ribs as they sat at the bar in a dimly lit establishment, buzzing with a variety of customers, UV lights and silly decorations to appeal to the ‘rave’ culture. Sin blinked and turned to Jake, who offered him a beverage. “What is it?” Sin asked sniffing the rim. “Jack Daniels and Coke.” Jake said with a massive grin across his pasty white face. “Uh, fine.” Sin took a sip and savoured the flavour for a moment. “Where did Bass go?” “Over there, with that girl.” Sin turned his head to the corner of the room where Bass stood, hands in his pockets, talking to a girl with his sly tongue. If she wasn’t repulsed by his lack of care for his own appearance than he stood a chance, and if he stood a chance then he’d surely drag her in with his ‘winning’ personality. Most people liked that sort of thing. “Is your idea of a ‘night out’ having me and you sat here while Casanova goes and tries it on with every breathing creature in a five mile radius?” Jake blinked. “That’s a real long sentence, Sin.” He blinked again. “No, actually, I just thought we could catch up. You have to learn how to have fun, you know? Jade’d be all over you if you were a bit more laid back.” Sin scoffed. “She already [I]is[/I].” “Yeah, well, get a few of that down you, and hopefully you’ll be less uptight when she comes tonight.” Jake shrugged. “Though you’re still a jerk when you’re drunk.” “And you’re still a flaky ginger twat,” replied Sin pointing his finger accusingly, “none of you are going to change me. Deal with it.” “Yeah,” Jake rolled his eyes defensively, “I know. Remind me why we hang out with you again?” “Some sick twisted obsession with the sick and twisted?” “You give yourself too much credit.” “Oh, no, not enough really.” Jake laughed into his drink and decided not to bother carrying on this conversation. He drank his pint quickly, slick and cold down his throat, ordering another before asking Sin if he wanted another as well. Sin, in the ‘spirit’ of things, decided he wouldn’t mind being drunk for the night. He knocked down his drink and asked (or rather spat) at Jake to get another, which he did, all too willing to pay the bill. There was something to be said about clubs around where Sin lived. They were always teeming with life, even if it were only a few dozen people; they were just great personalities to be on a night out with. Often Sin’s friends would find themselves enthralled with people’s antics and get to know everyone they came across in the clubs, but Sin… no, not him, he more over watched from a distance. A joint cheer went up from the club members when the music switched from a mellow back beat to an intense acid house sound. A small grin crept on Sin’s sullen face and his fingertips tapped the beat of the music on the glass bar, lifting his mood slightly. “You like this, huh?” Jake asked over the music. “It’s music that moves through you. Makes you do stupid things. The kind of shit you stand up and dance to in your own little world, knocking into folks and not caring how stupid you look because you’ve got all these vibes going through you.” He turned his head to the crowd gathering on the floor. “See?” Jake turned and saw a handful of people were dancing or simply moving to the sound of the music emitting from all around them, either drunk with alcohol or drunk with vibrations from the aristocratic sound they craved. “You wanna get up and dance?” asked Jake in hope. Sin thought about it for a moment while taking another swig of his drink. He considering the ticking in his head – a minor problem right now after the fight – and nodded somewhat hesitantly at Jake. Jake grinned and took him by the arm over to the mess of bodies on the tiled dance floor. Bass decided to join them at that point with the girl he had been talking to – a fine number with a nice tan down her – with a drink in his hand, often spilling it over himself. Sin managed to stay on the other side of the floor. Jake was really getting into it, mostly from Sin’s dancing. He danced like a white boy on crack, with a little bit of style of course, occasionally switching to this odd movement that made him seem like the god of fuck, or a classical-trained pole dancer. He got quite a few looks, bringing a smirk to his face. Bass caught the sight of Sin from the other side of the room and smiled. He excused himself from the girl politely, promising he’d buy her a drink in a few moments, and stalked over to Sin, coming up behind the unsuspecting demon-boy. “Where’d you learn ta dance?” Bass shouted above the music from behind Sin. “You never heard? The Devil’s the real God of music, kid.” “You’re not gettin’ into it properly, Sin,” Bass shouted into his ear from behind him, “here, let’m show ya.” Bass threw himself into Sin with a violent merciless push and Sin, who wasn’t expecting that [I]at all[/I], collided into a rather ripped looking metro-man. He turned to Sin angrily and - something [I]else[/I] Sin wasn’t expecting - hit him. Sin fell backwards from the hit into Bass’ arms. The dance floor stood still at the sight and Sin closed his eyes, a burning pain through his lip and jaw. He ran his tongue over his lip and tasted the warm, savouring metallic liquid of his own blood. Nice. Bass tightened his grip on Sin in a bid to keep him from lashing out but it wasn’t enough. He ripped his arms out of Bass’ lock and launched forward – a maddening ticking returning inside his head – and hit the stupid looking bloke back with ferocity and agility. Sin didn’t give him a chance to react, nor a chance to fall to the ground, and continued laying punches into him while holding him up by the scruff of his collar. Some of the crowd came forward in a futile attempt to stop the fight but quickly backed away before they got too close, having never seen that level of violence from such a scrawny looking man before. “That’s enough!” Sin only barely registered the voice before he was tackled by an abysmal mass. Sin crashed on the floor in a terrible mess with a massive African bouncer on top of him, something even [I]Sin[/I] couldn’t shrug off. Before he got a chance to lick his wounds the bouncer hoisted Sin up by his shirt and dragged him towards the door. “You’re barred mate!” he snarled whilst chucking Sin out onto the streets. Sin’s face hit the concrete hard, a small cut appearing on his cheekbone from the impact. Well, that happened quite fast. He replied the events over in his head trying to figure out why he had failed to see the bouncer lurking away in the shadows, or why the faggot who attacked him wasn’t thrown out as well. Not that Sin was going to cry at the fact he had been picked on. No, not at all. He breathed out of his nostrils against the ground and watched speckles of dusk fly from his line of breath. He could still hear that irritating, blasphemous sound in his head, which had returned due to his anger… and because of that punk-arse idiot Bass. Not that it mattered, he wasn’t too bothered about being thrown out of a bar. Like it made any difference at all. He pulled himself up and looked at the bar, spitting in its general direction. “Sin?” Barely above a whisper, more like a startled cry, he didn’t have to look to know who it was. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked over at Jade, clad in a sparkling black dress, sparkling earrings, all that make up and all that crap that women seemed to revel in wearing on nights out. “Hey Jade.” He muttered. “My god, what happened? Are you -” “Alright? Of course I’m alright.” He sighed. She came rushing over to him and placed his hand on his cheek, tracing the cut that seemed to have stretched into a gash through speech. “It’s nothing, really. I just got thrown out because Bass was being a two-bit sluggard.” “Come on, sit down wit’ me.” He was always amused by her dialect. No matter how fancy she dressed, acted or even [I]tried[/I] to talk it always broke through, making sure the world knew she was just as common as the next Joe. She sat Sin down on a bench and tried to rub away the blood dripping from his cheek but he wouldn’t let her. He said he was fine, and he didn’t near her to mother him - she looked hurt and said she was only trying to help. “Yeah, I know,” he told her, “you should just go and have a night out with them two.” “I’d rather make sure you’re okay.” Sin sighed in frustration. “Okay? If I weren’t okay I’d be withering on the floor like a child. I’m fine, Jade. Really.” She shrugged. “I only care about you, is all.” “I know.” “And I’ll kick that bouncer in the nuts before the night is over.” “Good girl.” Sin looked down at the floor and then to her. She looked generally concerned about his well-being and… god, there it was again. That adoration for a monster. Sin didn’t understand it, really. He shook his head and looked away from her, speaking bluntly. “You should really, really just go and see them. I’ll just go home.” “Okay,” she muttered, “I don’t even get a kiss?” Sin laughed. He ran his thumb over the side of her face and kissed her, quickly at first, but paused against her lips when he felt her trace her tongue over his cut. He drew back and blinked at her and she only held back a laugh. “Taste kinda nice.” His eyes darkened. No anger, no despise, just curiosity, and an idea that crept into his little demon brain. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her until he decided to give it a try because, frankly, he had little to nothing to lose. “You’ll like this even better.” Now when it came to getting his way and keeping them where he wanted them, Sin was an expert. He snapped his hand to the back of her head and kissed her again, fiercer this time, more violently than she anticipated. He bit down on her lip, hard, until she winced and tried to pull away (ridiculously pointless with his hand there). He dug his teeth in until he felt the faintest trickle of blood against his tongue and let her head go, to which she pulled back immediately. “W-what the fuck was that?” she stammered quite startled but not (to his surprise) angry or afraid. “Interesting, that’s what it was,” he replied taking a thumb to her lip and wiping some of the blood on his fingernail, “need to replace the blood I’ve lost.” He smirked and licked the blood off his thumb coolly. “See you tomorrow.” Sin took his leave right then feeling more then proud of himself. Jade was blinking rapidly, hand to the cut, trying to figure out some kind of explanation behind his antics. It wasn’t like she was ever going to be able to figure one out. * In the darkened memory of his mind Sin could never recall an instant where he had everything. Never a moment wherein he lived in a beautiful house, never a day where he remember the sun, nor the gleeful freedom any child shared. The only clean room he’d ever been in was Jade’s and people’s houses he’d robbed. That’s why his skanky motel room was his precious, precious home. His room was small with a kitchen, a bathroom and a living space complete with his bed. The wallpaper was ripped off for the most part with pencil markings underneath from when Sin could be bothered putting coherent sentences together which, consequently, wasn’t very often. The carpet was originally blue but patches of it seemed to be dyed an earthy colour of red, bordering brown. Blood, of course. He ignored the state of his living area and walked into the bathroom, switching the light on. It protested against him and barely gave him any light when it finally came on, just enough to see the smeared earthy red on the tiles and the mirror with a lengthy crack from the right corner. Sin stared at his reflection, lopsided smirk on his face. “Hey boy,” he said to himself, “what happened to your face?” he chuckled. Real people were afraid of scratches, bruises, blood, crazy people, reality, truth, disease, insanity, sin, and Sin. They cried from the smallest age at the sight of their own blood and weaknesses wishing they were something different or wishing that their nerve endings were burnt off so they couldn’t feel that little twinge of pain, but not Sin. No, actually, he found it quite interesting, and it went beyond the dictionary term of sado-masochism. It was something deeper, something horrible inside of him, something to do with the ticking, something to do with the shaded part of his past. He leaned closer to the mirror and ran his fingertips over the leering lash on his cheek. Like a curious child he pulled down on the bottom skin below the gash trying to stretch it, feeling the skin sting and whimper at the touch. With a growl he placed his over hand atop the gash and pulled at the skin as well, tearing the cut open. He blinked several times in acknowledgement and almost gratification when a small inkling of blood dripped down his face and onto his chin. “That’s fucked up.” He whispered to his reflection, smiling nevertheless. He turned on the taps and threw the water over his face to clean off the blood. When he looked back up, he saw his reflection smirking at him, even when he was sure he was not. “What?” he asked suspiciously. [I]“Oh please, don’t give me that.”[/I] Sin snarled. [I]“I don’t ever remember the day I turned into a creepy little boy. What the fuck happened? Where’s your demon side? Where’s the cruelty and the beast? I don’t ever remember the day, boyo.”[/I] “I’m still cruel.” Sin argued, though not entirely sure whom he was arguing to nor why he was. [I]“Because you cut your fuck-buddy’s lip? Because you go and beat the shit out of low-life scumbags and snap at your comrades?”[/I] His reflection was grinning now, a kind of maddening look in his eyes. It was only then, when looking at those eyes, that Sin noticed the tint of red around the iris, more defined and distinguished than Sin’s brown eyes. Sin swallowed, hard, a fear and anxiety coursing through him that he hadn’t felt in decades. He tried to draw his eyes away but even then he knew that his reflection, a deadly representation of something wicked, was always going to be there. Looking. Thinking. Hating. [I]“You know why that tick-tock never goes away? Because you’re not feeding it enough. It’s like a time bomb for your… err… demise. It’s ticking away because you don’t give it enough blood. That’s the real you, or rather me, telling you to hurry the fuck up and get to know me better. You have to listen, or else the ticking’ll get louder, and louder, and louder, until one day you’ll take a fine piece of glass to your eyes and slice through ‘em until you get to the brain. Understand me?”[/I] Sin closed his eyes. “No. No I don’t. I’m not even listening.” [I]“Of course you’re listening.”[/i] Chuckled the face in the mirror. [i]“You’ve been listening to me, if not subtly. The hate and the anger and that little spark of cruelty is me. The thing that holds you back is… you. Some twisted form of justice, I don’t know.”[/I] “Fuck off.” [I]“I’m not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. That’d just be cruel.”[/I] A laugh, a joke. [I]“C’mon, be realistic. You don’t really, really think you can actually fight this, do you?”[/I] Siin snarled again. “I wasn’t aware I was fighting anything.” [I]“If you weren’t fighting, you’d be running around punching holes in people’s faces. That bitch’d be dead and you, you dear Sin, wouldn’t have any friends at all. You honestly have no idea who you are; it’s buried beneath all the shit pile of memory core.”[/I] “I said fuck off!” He punched the mirror until it cracked and his knuckles nearly buckled under the pressure. His image was angry now (or perhaps that was his own face) but it wasn’t gone, so he punched it again, and again, until the glass shattered around his knuckles and sliced through his hand. He breathed against the pressure building up in his stomach, the anxiety turning into something wicked and nasty and not a clue what to do with himself except collapse in a pile on the floor amongst the shards of his shattered doppelganger hidden in the mirror. Oh, now [I]this[/I] was fucked, he supposed.[/align]

[size=1]As far as wording, grammar, spelling, vocabulary and all that jazz goes, you've got an amazing grasp of it. You've got a good variety of the dictionary in there, heh, and everything was used in the right context (which even I have trouble with; I have to triple-check the meaning of new or complex words just in case). I understand it's only a prologue but I only got really, really drawn in towards the end. Some of the sentences were constructed [i]too[/i] complexly and made the first few paragraphs rather hard to follow - I had to read it over twice just to make sure I was correct. It may not even be that the sentences are overly complex (I don't often think that's a problem - you know, it's actually a real talent), it could just be the presentation. If the first few paragraphs were broken up a little more then I think it would be easier to follow. You also do the same thing with commas as me, haha. I tend to overuse them quite a lot and when I read my work over a few times I realise that the sentences can flow a lot better (or be easier on the reader's attention span) with less commas. For example: [quote name='Omega']Well, that insurmountable, and frankly, impossible, task was scaled down- with the approval of both sides of course- when Me? Yes, Metatron?s favorite species, the race of ?Men? , showed itself to be a powerful and domineering force in the universe, unlike the various other races that had died out on their respective planets.[/quote] If you got rid of the commas in the first sentence I think it would flow a lot better. When first written, using lots of commas seems to work better - makes it slower like it is in your head - but after a bit of revision it's sometimes easier without them. That's my opinion, however, and it's entirely up to you on how many commas you use XD. The prologue as a whole was quite interesting and entertaining (the last paragraph being my favourite). I'd definitely like to read more, because I tend to prefer stories to their prologue. I'm actually looking forward to seeing what you can do with that creative vocabulary in your head there =D.[/size]

[size=1]Well it's pretty interesting, and forgive me if I can't flesh out a good few paragraphs of praise or criticism... not tonight, anyway, haha. I like the last chapter best and as someone has already stated the story has great atmosphere. The first chapter was harder to follow than the ones that came after (I only had to skim through it again though) so that's my least favourite, but the story as a whole... I like it. Very nice.[/size]

[quote name='TheDumbening']wat go die[/QUOTE] [size=1]Oh ****. You... didn't... To stay on topic, because I go off topic far too often nowadays, does anyone know why Panic! tend to have such long titles? It's really something that puts me off their songs. Also, is the new album worth downloading? I say downloading because I haven't paid for a single album in a good few years. I was just wondering if it was worth the disc space. *sets up a camera for Raiha's reaction*[/size]

[size=1]It's the hair he has on the 'Sins video, I think. And the make-up is the same that the lead singer for the Deathstars wore (I do agree they're creepy looking - I love it really! You should see them live, it's the most glamorous freakshow I've ever seen, not to mention Mr. Whiplasher leaned on the crowd and we got the grope a feel of his deliciously delicate chest). They don't try too hard compared to most other bands... pictures from their 'normal' outings show 'em dressed the same as the stage haha XD Furthermore, I don't actually know anything to add other than I just like the videos X3.[/size]

[size=1]I liked it. The first part (namely the first paragraph) is quite misleading and I was expecting something to do with businesses, paperwork and all that jazz (only with a slightly more interesting twist). Although, the whole hitman/spy thing seemed like a professional business anyway, only with a darker twist to it (if that makes any sense). It's more gritty than most hitman or spy pieces people come up with; often you find they have millions of gadgets and spend paragraphs upon paragraphs explaining how they work. I like the hitman in this because he doesn't seem like the average hitman smart-arse and sounds a lot more down-to-earth, especially with the way it's written in his point of view. I found it quite easy to follow his trail of thought, too. Very nice work. Flows really well, too. I think the only criticism I have would be that, at the end of each speech mark (or most) you have a fullstop, or a comma. [Quote=silpheedpilot]"W-where are you headed?"[b].[/b] "Status."[b],[/b][/quote] That might just be your style though. I wouldn't want to be throwing around any rules, because I don't actually [i]know[/i] the rules for speech, but it normally looks better if you don't put anything after the speech marks because you've already got punctuation beforehand. I'm not sure about this; that's just my two-cents, probably better off asking an English buff, heh. Nice piece of work though.[/size]