Raiha

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Generic Demon Possessed Japanese schoolgirl I believe... I'll have pictures form Yaoi Con for you all. However I'm not sure if I should wear the fishnets with the combat boots or the stilettos... And if I should slash up the fishnets first a little.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Drizzt Do'urden'] If you try this, or just try to jog/run more and more and you don't see any improvment, make sure you consult a doctor. Just like liamc2 said though it's probably nothing, there are a number of conditions that can result in fatigue.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Stroke, myocardial infarction, leukemia, bone marrow disease, fungal infection, Human Papilloma Virus, diabetes- I'm kidding. Anyway, even though jogging and running are both good, if you're anything like me and a lot of other women out there, you'll get sore ankles and knees which can sometimes get more damaged than they would on a male or other people. In this case I strongly recommend my own sport not only because it's [better] good for you, but because it's also one of the best workouts you can get. Unless you drown. Swimming is low impact but if you get to the point where you can feel yourself sweating in the water, then you're doing it right.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="black"][FONT="Times New Roman"][SIZE="3"][CENTER]BayAreaNewsNetworkArticles// Op-Ed: The Phenoms, Hypers, and Eaters[/CENTER][/SIZE][/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR="darkorchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]The Phenoms as we have started calling them are far more varied and adaptable than previously believed. They can hold up to four minds within one body before breaking down. The rare in between case of 10 in one soul, or even an entire maternal or paternal line in one person has also been studied, but their strength and relative intelligence makes capturing them difficult. There are six known HyperPhems still in California and there will be a reward for the safe capture of one, preferably sedated. However they are also the most frightening out of the three types of Phenoms. Their raw strength, prescience, and abilities are unparalleled by all others. Carol: the maternal line of the Dashiell family. Johann: the paternal line of the Van Hess clan. Riskéa: the maternal line of the Beurren clan. Vahn: the paternal line of the Monterola family. Wesley: the maternal line of the Miller family. Timonty: the paternal line of the Dixon family. The Eaters are perhaps the biggest threat and the worst example of the mutation of the Phenoms. They eat souls mindlessly, only seeking to obtain more power, more energy, and seem to know no bounds as far as ruthlessness and wanton violence are concerned. Mercifully, they are not over-endowed with a full compliment of wits, intelligence, or any other cognitive ability. A HyperPhem can take one down in a matter of moments, and even an average Phenom can trap and kill an Eater if they're given enough time. And since most Phenoms have one or more enhanced sense they can hold their on well enough. But as for the humans who have yet to discover new souls in their minds, it is suggested that you remain as isolated as possible. Stay inside, don't go out at night. And seek shelter with friends and others you can trust. It will not be safe for much longer, and infection is inevitable. Whether you will turn into a stable Phenom or an Eater is still entirely up to random chance. God's playing dice with the world. Best to hedge your bets.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Thank you medical student. Your advice will most likely be the most sound out of all the potential drivel that people will try to tell you. I.e. IT'S YOUR APPENDIX EXPLODIE OMG! I get pains in my side from running hard or for too long or with an improper stride, so don't worry. I have yet to discover my insides exploded and I've done a lot of running in my time. It isn't second hand smoke, because you're not inhaling it as you're working, and I'm assuming you don't live in Los Angeles or Bejing, which is like smoking a pack a day anyway- So you are just out of shape, or not as physically fit as you can be. Just remember to take breaks if you really need them, and if your coach appears hard on you, that's probably because he can teach you the limits of your own body better than if you merely tried to work out with nobody to lash the whip over your head to motivate you. Just stick with it and you'll see results within a month. Give or take a few weeks. As an avid swimmer, I can safely say that your body will adapt, and it'll adapt quickly. I used to only be able to swim 10 laps, then in a couple weeks I found it much easier to do 10 so I increased to 15, and so on and so forth. You'll eventually get used to the hard work, and your body will be lusciously toned, fit, and beautiful. Trust me. Pain now is going to be worth it later.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][RIGHT][FONT="Times New Roman"]"I have no problems. Not like the ones that girl will have when she tries to lie to Carol again." [i]Grace smirked at Korey and leaned against the cedar beams of the garden trellis. Then she abruptly turned and did a handspring forward into the grass of the garden while Carlotta and Josie barked and howled, running parallel next to me. Then I turned and vaulted upwards onto the beam Carol had set up for me with a little help from Eros's first ex girlfriend; Cheryl. I landed and stood upright, four feet from the ground, feeling right at home as my feet felt out each of the grooves in the wood, feeling the grain patterns with the tips of my toes. Then I abruptly used one hand for a cartwheel forward, and slid down into the splits. I gripped the sides of the beam with both hands and turned, gripping with my fingers, locking up my arms and reversing my hold. Bringing back both legs, keeping them straight, pointing the toes I balanced on one leg, kicked forward, then back in the same motion and stood in the scorpion stance for longer than was usual. I smelled Korey's scent change and then released, flipped to one side and landed in a crouch, one knee up and one knee touching the grass.[/i] "So we have problems. Let's call it even." [i]He held out his hand in a casual way and I took it, then abruptly jerked him behind me and whirled around, sinking into a stationary Capoeira stance. Korey laughed and began his attack.[/i] [i]Carol fingered the edge of her first throwing knife, the loop around her first finger. The girl flinched and Carol leaned back slightly, jerking her arm upright, keeping her legs straight all the while. She laughed, her eyes shifting color and flashing like opals all the while. And from behind, Eros took Yamiko's wrists from Carol's hands. He let her dangle and she willed herself to remain still. As if Carol knew her thoughts, she leaned forward just a little and smiled darkly.[/i] "That's right. If you started struggling I'd put two of these through your calves and two through your thighs." [i]Yamiko's eyes didn't widen, but Carol knew she'd only kept her face clear because of the male's pride. That male would certainly be interesting later. But either way, she gave Eros a nod and he lowered her arms and handcuffed her to one of the several marble pillars in the foyer instead. Just as she was beginning to embrace the coldness, she saw an older woman come down the staircase to her left. Carol turned and rushed up to help her down the rest of the way. Her hair was completely white, and her eyes almost clouded over with age. Yamiko's brow furrowed slightly as she tried to get a better look by twisting her neck around when she recoiled and saw Eros's right hand very close to her cheek.[/i] "Now now, it's not polite to gawk. Very rude my pretty little turtledove. We must be polite to Mrs. Young. She's not very young anymore you know. And rather mad." [i]As if to confirm his matter of fact statements, Mrs. Young withdrew a lighter from her pocket and a cigarette from the other, then stumped across the living room to the backyard where the sounds of Korey and Grace fighting were drifting through the open sliding glass door. She cackled as she went, completely ignoring the handcuffed girl standing in her foyer, until of course she reached for the screen door and turned around and waggled a finger at the prisoner.[/i] "She'll be trouble if you keep her tied up Eros. Mark my words. Best to let her free roam with Escobar tailing her." [i]Hearing his name, Escobar perked his knife-shaped ears and wagged his tail appreciatively. Eros shrugged casually and Carol gave all present parties a pleasant smile.[/i] "Well that's fine then. I'll just go finish dinner then."[/FONT][/RIGHT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Aaryanna_Mom']He might have called them that, but this is what they are: [URL="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stereo_8"][U]8 track[/U][/URL] Since it's what we had when I was a little girl, I remember them clearly. I actually still have all of my records and a player for them. Though I prefer cd's.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Weird. He explained it as 'there's an A side and a B' side so it's called A- nevermind. Anyway I have a record player but I think it's on its last legs because the timing is off. "The Sound of Music" theme sounds like it's being sung by methanphetamine fueled mice. Although I love HD now. I'm tired of things being so blurry when they get big. Is that wrong of me? I mean who wants to see fuzzy when they can see sharp![/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I love myself, writing, pleasure, spoken words, printed words on a page, or you could just go to my profile and check under "Interests" because those are pretty much the things I love. Oh yes, and I also love my family, but only when they aren't turning the house into a DMZ with their incessant father son, mother daughter scream fests. And I'm infatuated with my church's Korean/German drummer, so guess I don't love them. Oh wait, who, not what. Dang. I really do love perhaps six of my friends. Their names, altered into elvish/nottheirealnameish rendition to cut down on their googleability are in order of randomness: Bethanuviel, Tomalanderiel, Corrbyn, Matthias, Taurinevadelain, Jonadavin[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Aaryanna_Mom']No more than how they changed how Americans listen to and store music by dropping 8-track in favor of cassette tapes and then dropping that in favor of CD's. [/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I thought it was A track. .....or maybe my dad was lying to me this whole time. I remember vinyl records too, although those are popular again with DJs and other music enthusiasts. It's just like tight pants suddenly becoming cool again after the 70s.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='GSValkanas']Heh heh I guess.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well if you weren't you couldn't get them done. But here's something nobody's said yet. NEVER GET IT PIERECED AT CLAIRES! Or ANY PIERCING SHACK! EVER! EVAR! The piercing gun is both not as clean as they'd like to make you believe, but then there's the part where it won't be as centered, wont' be as sterile, won't be as hardcore as if you get it done the way god intended all piercings to be done. With a NEEDLE. A needle. It goes into one end and out the other. The used what looked like a darning hook needle on my navel and long thin ones on my ears. Never settle for a cheap piercing gun and potential infections. Always go to a real piercing parlor which should usually have certifications visible, be very clean, and give off a good vibe.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='GSValkanas']I've got my left ear pierced twice. Gonna do a third one soon. My right ear is healing up after a few botched piercings. After it's done, I'm going to get to rings in the lobe and an industrial through the cartilage up top. As for tatts, I want to get on of Heath Ledger as the Joker, and his Birth- and Death-dates underneath on one shoulder.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Careful, it might turn out that he loved little boys or something. I'm kidding. I'm just not a fan of dates on tattoos for some reason, much like names of husbands or boyfriends [etc]. I'd tell you to just stick with the Joker or do the red text "Why so serious?" but hey. It's your body baby. I was going to get industrial ear cartilage fun when I remembered that high up is bad. Because high up is where my swimcap goes. But I love the way they look on people, although my friend's 10 gague kept on getting mistaken for a pencil and people kept grabbing it. [Her hair hid most of it][/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Lunar'][COLOR="Indigo"][FONT="Book Antiqua"]Well............. So far, I'm against this whole thing. messing with nature......bad move. i think the baby would be born with defects because........messing with nature. if God intended for sperms to be made out of female bone marrow, he would have done it already. yeesh.......the end of the world is coming soon......all the signs[/FONT][/COLOR].[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well as I recall, Dolly was cloned from the mammary of a 6 year old female sheep. And she died six years later, as most sheep die at the age of 12 or so. So these humans won't live as long? Will this be like Ender's Shadow and Bean? Or are the stem cells fetal and whatnot? There's so many questions I'd like answered but I suppose we'll have to wait.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Lunar'][COLOR="Indigo"][FONT="Book Antiqua"]they're cool, but i just want a little one. he said it hurts like crazy.[/FONT][/COLOR][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well if you suffer from fibro myalgia then yes. Or if you have sensitive skin, or are very ticklish, and so on and so forth. But as far as the actual tattoo work, the real pain is from the outline. The filling in and coloration doesn't always hurt as much. And again, depending on what you get done and how detailed it is, is how much it will hurt or not. When my friend got her Phoenix tattoo on her shoulder it only hurt around the extremely detailed head and eye and the places over the bones of her shoulder blade.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Matt']You know, it [I]is[/I] weird. Before you know it, we will be reaching the point where we pretty much live in Blade Runner.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Or Logan's Run, or Brave New World. YOU NEVER KNOW! Thank you 13th man for immediately putting words into the mouths of every major religion in the world instead of considering the ideology behind their belief systems. As a Christian, I was raised, and still believe, that all new life is special, a miracle, a gift from God, and so on and so forth. This belief is held among many of my religiously inclined peers, regardless of how this came along. Even if we disagree with the methods used to produce such an existence such as a clone, or this particular method, the child produced would still be a unique soul, a child of God, and someone worth cherishing. And most Christian/Muslim humans are of the general conclusion that man is both inherently evil and prideful and should not play God. However we all are aware that man is incapable of not wanting to play God so I doubt more of that old tired canard will be trotted out except by the most overtly passionate, loud-mouthed, or radical of our kind.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Lunox'][font=trebuchet ms] I don't really approve of body mod... well to be more specific, I don't like tattoos. I mean eventually you get old and you sag and it doesn't remain that cool. TBH when I see people with tons of tattoos I cringe.[/font][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]A common cry of those against tattoos is the sagging to be sure. But it depends on both the person's ability to take care of themselves, the size of the tattoo, the colors, and the position it's in. I'm getting mine in smaller characters in black and red ink most likely. Both look good on my kind of skin tone, and the size and position of them on my shoulder blades mean that the average person won't even know they're there unless I go to pains to reveal it to them. And whether you know this or not, that's the norm for many people who might appear otherwise normal to you. And eventually everyone will get old and sag and have pouchy eyes and crows feet and age spots galore so tattoos will hardly matter regardless.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Darren']Not gonna lie: I've considered it... But I don't think I'll ever get a nipple piercing just because of the embarrassment I would feel going in and asking for one. I'm also not opposed to getting my ears pierced. (But that's as far as it goes. I would never gauge my ears like some people) [/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Now y'see, this is why you get a female friend to go in with you for the same purpose. That way it's a: not gay [har har har tasteless joke] and b: hopefully she'll be as big a wimp as you. Yes. Wimp. Not whimp. I'm not going to post what I'm getting on my back because the file will not condense for me, but if you look up the text of Revelations 12:11 and put it into Traditional Chinese. Now make it horizontal, and imagine it on your shoulder blades.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Yes Rach dear, we'd think you were like some kind of ex KGB operative infiltrating OB for your dark designs. I've said this before and doubtless will again, so at least I've got a reasonable explanation down. Neuvox: Old French for 'new' as well as the name of an old big hair Christian rock band from the 80s. Pronounced 'New- Vo' as in the "o" sound of "orly?" Raiha: Japanese for Child of thunder, also from Flame of Recca but I never read it, also from 'Memoirs of a Geisha' which I did read. Pronounced 'Rye-Ha.'[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]At the beginning. Duh. I'm kidding kidding kidding, but seriously. If you have something to write about then you're halfway done. But my advice of course is to pick something you know. So for example turn out the lights, and let your imagination run wild. I believe in getting strung out on whatever auditory/physical/mental sensory you need to write descriptively. So when I write some short stories that I actually care about I try to put myself in the same sort of situation, or feel the same way. In my case I usually have to drink excessively, abuse valium, light candles, or you know. Do something to 'get in the right mood.' It's a method that might have results, but my advice to you besides that is to use ms word's handy grammar checker while in the final stages.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][SIZE="3"] James Burnet liked Joyce Meyung. Witty, remarked upon as a firebrand by more than a few, and easily capable of keeping up with him in conversation, she intrigued James. They spoke for the first time in English 101A: East Asian Poetry, a rather uninspiring elective that gave them plenty of time to talk. Granted he would always reference the classic romantic poets like Keats and Wordsworth partially to impress her, partially because they were romantic. She?d always fire back with a quote from some more obscure poet like Plutzik or even something appropriately cynical and completely depressing from Dostoevsky. When James finally realized he wanted to do more than just exchange verbal fire with Joyce, he found himself completely deprived of his usual sanguine charm. Asking her on a date seemed the next logical step, since the college?s rather controversial bar had just been shut down. Then the question of how to go about asking her floated through his mind and he entertained all sorts of elaborate scenarios in which he brought it up as an afterthought to a long discussion on Byron, or left her a note in her binder during class. The second idea he nixed immediately as utterly juvenile and he decided to go with what he termed the ?Bryonic Approach.? At first Joyce gave him the required dose of incredulousness, in keeping with the sarcastic nature he?d come to associate with her almost unconsciously. ?You want me to go on a date with you?? ?Yeah you know, where a man and woman make plans to meet with each other. On purpose. Eat at a restaurant that has cloth napkins. See a movie that wasn?t produced by Disney.? ?Just because I?m a socially repressed college freshman from a small hick town that has a priest for a father and a mother that beat me for crying doesn?t mean I?ve never heard of-? In the middle of her tongue-lashing she paused and considered James?s amused expression and then realized that he had been baiting her. Cursing herself for the mental lapse she leaned back against the concrete wall that ran across the dorm fields to her room. He merely smiled at her in that infuriatingly arrogant way she knew was his trademark. And the reason why he drove a Lexus. And made six digits while a college sophomore. Either way she knew turning down the offer just because he annoyed her would be petty and relatively bitchy of her. Then again, saying yes just because she was attracted to his money and the security blanket he could wrap her in was just as petty. Instead she merely gave him an enigmatic smile and left him standing there while she strolled back to her dorm, as haughty as a princess. The next evening he called her and she picked up on the fifth ring, giving a characteristic and rather drawn out, ?Yes?? ?So we?re still on for tonight yes?? ?I suppose so. Any sort of dress code?? ?Heels. Definitely heels. And wear your hair down.? Joyce blinked a few times. Sure she?d dated in high school but guys had always been poor enough to not care if she wore chucks or flip-flops, curled her hair or just left it up in a messy bun. In fact she wasn?t even sure she had brought more than boots and sandals with her to college. Much less a curling iron and styling gel. A quick scan of her miniscule closet revealed that yes, there were in fact two pairs of heels but nothing to match them save but jeans and also; no curling iron, no styling gel, no hairpins to keep her bangs out of her face. She heaved a reluctant sigh and buttoned up her jeans and slipped into the heels anyway, hoping he wouldn?t mind the fact that she didn?t come prepared with a dress, a skirt, or anything else that would conform to James?s apparent feminine ideal. It was only six months later, after a rather torrid and sex filled ?relationship,? that Joyce realized just what kind of male James was. He might be well read, ambitious, successful; maybe a little brilliant. But he was also arrogant, emotionally vacant when attempting to express anything besides lust. Then there was the fact that his job, which of course demanded more of his time than 20 units of class work per quarter was cutting into the time Joyce would?ve rather spent with him. Writing papers and doing math homework instead of doing dinner and debauchery with him twelve days out of every fourteen really wasn?t her idea of a relationship. They never crossed paths on the enormous Irvine campus, nor did they actually ever call each other short of setting up dates. In fact, Joyce felt like her feelings for him were bordering on the pointless. Growing close to him was difficult when he wasn?t interested in her, or at least horrible at conveying the message. Dryly considering his English major and Communications minor and their unbelievable shortcomings she did the only thing that seemed sensible at the time. She called one of her more pretty male friends and made plans to abandon all sanity and go to a dive bar. Riding on the bus together was an adventure in and of itself. Gen was a tall, half Japanese half white business major with almost impeccable taste and a fancy for linen shirts. By contrast, Joyce stood at roughly five foot nothing and was dressed in a black skirt and red blouse, with a leather collar and spiked heels. They couldn?t have looked more imperfect for each other and attracted a rather flattering amount of stares from the everyday, tired, bored, and conventional people that used public transportation. Getting off one stop too early, Gen linked elbows with her and they strolled into the last four blocks to ?The Hookup? and flashed their IDs at the bouncer. He gave them a glance that couldn?t have ascertained their validity but waved them into the crowded room anyway. Both were fully prepared to enjoy themselves but instead discovered that they were wincing in auditory agony when they realized that it was karaoke night. Joyce honestly didn?t mind karaoke, unless it was ?Summer Lovin? as sung by an overweight angry butch lesbian much in the same way Gen disliked lesbians in general when they sniped all the pretty girls out of the pool of possible people to sleep with. Eventually they managed to pair up with the most interesting people they could find. Gen vanished with a vacuous, pale slip of a girl with a thick Russian accent and Joyce found herself talking to a 50 year old ex Marine that answered to Master Jerry. Not that talking to him was intellectually stimulating so much as it was a pleasant change from more civilized conversation. ?So what is it exactly that you like? You?re far too pretty to be in school and you?ve already said you?re not a porn star, even if you look the part.? ?I like books. You like filming amateur porn. We all have to have something we enjoy.? Joyce raised her whiskey sour to clink against his Jack and Coke, noticing that her hand was shaking slightly from the excitement. ?Is it only books that you like?? He leaned forward slightly and she did too, feigning confidentiality, putting a hint of secretive stage whisper into her voice. ?I like being punished. But my boyfriend isn?t into that sort of thing. He doesn?t like playing rough. In fact I?m pretty sure he doesn?t know what BDSM stands for.? ?So you?re into the lifestyle?? His tone was calm, pleasant, and even completely conversational. Master Jerry didn?t look overly excited, which was a nice change from the typical response she got from the typical college guy who thought that all BDSM was about was spanking, choking, and whipping. ?What if I am? It?s not like I know anybody in the area yet. I?m only here because of my friend.? Joyce turned around to point Gen out only to find that he had in fact vanished. She sighed and turned back to find Master Jerry writing his number down on the back of one of his business cards. He handed it to her and she considered it. He turned to her again from putting away his pen and she found herself feeling almost pinned against the wall by his stare. ?Tomorrow night I?m going to a club in Los Angeles to discuss a business idea with a friend. Will you accompany me?? Joyce stared at the card, then looked back up at him with great effort, letting him see her struggle. ?I will.? He smiled and then gallantly offered her a ride home. Joyce stood, almost uncertainly and picked up her drink with her, draining the last of the whiskey and grimacing slightly. He plucked the empty glass from her hand before she had a chance to protest and set it back down on the table. The next evening she met him at the club parking lot, quivering slightly with the excitement and partially from expectation. She slid into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt, then almost flinched when he put his hand on her knee as he navigated through the crowded parking lot. Joyce gave him an almost empty expression from behind her glasses and wondered exactly where this was going, when she remembered that he?d singled her out of the crowd of people because of her collar. Most assumed it was a fashion statement, but then again most people at dive bars hadn?t read The Story of O, much less figured the o-ring dangling from the black leather was for anything more than clipping a lead to. The thing was, Master Jerry didn?t need to bring a leash to get Joyce to follow him to a place as removed from the karaoke-infested bar as Compton was from the Hamptons. He didn?t even need to ask her if she was interested in being seen in public with him. Instead of explaining where they were going and what she could expect, he drove to a place close to LAX and parked in the half empty lot. Opening her door, he took her hand and pulled her up to his level and gently removed her glasses. With a gentle nudge, he used body language instead of words to indicate that she should follow him. Tucking her fingers behind her back she did, staying as close as she could, utterly blind without his glasses. After paying the entrance fee, he led her through a narrow hallway into a wider area that could?ve been filled with half naked screaming people dancing to terrible music. Instead it was filled with living room furniture in mostly black and brown leather, with a raised stage in one corner. Unlike the clubs Joyce had been to, this one came with only one half naked screaming person tied to a post being whipped in time to rather good music. Or at least she thought it was one person. Without her glasses she couldn?t see past blurred, flesh colored outlines. He led her past the main area into a side room. There he instructed her to undress as much as she saw fit, and for the first time, she was grateful to her parents for giving her the genetic predisposition of someone legally blind. Unbuttoning her blouse and stepping out of her heels, Joyce stood shivering slightly in just her slacks and bra. Using the collar with far more imagination than most she?d ever been with, he clipped a steel chain to the o-ring and attached it to the bar hanging from the ceiling. He leaned down to her height and whispered directly into her ear to be heard over the music. ?If you ever want me to stop, you know what to say.? He drew back, enjoying Joyce?s surprised expression, which she immediately smoothed back into an emptier one; so very easy when you can?t see a damn thing. In fact her expression was so remote, so inappropriate for what happened next, that more than a few well-dressed businessmen began to drift into the place that was labeled ?The Elizabethan Room? on the door. Master Jerry cuffed her wrists above her head, connected them to the chain, and nearly suspended her, leaving just enough room to stand on her tiptoes. He tied her ankles together leaving just enough room to insert perhaps one sheet of paper but not two, and then drew the first of two deerskin floggers against her skin. Just a brush, but she shivered most appreciatively, shrieked aloud when he drew it back for a quick snap, and whimpered to herself when he loosened the chain just enough to bend her over for a spank. He paused after a few minutes of intense flogging and put his lips to her ear again, his tone mocking her almost as much as the laughter she elicited from the audience when he grazed her with the tip of his knife and made her scream. ?Sure you don?t want to cry surrender?? Up to that point, Joyce had been letting herself dangle by her wrists, only pushing up when she began losing feeling in her fingers. She clenched her fingers into fists and pulled her head up from between her arms and shot him a glance that screamed complete defiance yet spoke in a hushed tone, suitable for a library, not a bondage scene. ?Won?t. You can?t break me.? Master Jerry drew back and turned away to look at the half circle of men and women as if disappointed in her, then hauled back and slapped both of his whips against her face and chest in a motion so smooth and controlled, she knew he?d been preparing ever since he leaned down to ask her if she was ready to give in. She clenched her teeth, feeling the pressure and heat on her skin, and then he paused to pull something else from beyond her field of vision. One of her watchers, in a move so bold it was almost shocking, walked up to her and touched her face, which she?d let hang forward again. He pulled her chin up with one finger and put his face close enough to hers so she could see the brilliant blue of her eyes, and the way they narrowed when looking into her almost unfocused ones. ?You know that?s a good way to loose an arm.? Master Jerry didn?t give him a chance to pull away before swinging the first of his whips and catching just the tip of his hand as he let go of Joyce?s face. Bragging and posturing aside, he didn?t break her. Not when he accidentally cut her back when she jerked against him unexpectedly, and not when he used a single lash whip on her back to raise welts. Instead he delivered her, bruised, scratched, and exhausted back to her dorm and had to content himself with a chaste kiss on the cheek instead of her phone number. She showered, longer than she?d planned, blessing the dorm?s inexhaustible water heater all the while. After drying off and settling down behind the gentle glow of her computer screen, she found no messages from James, and surprisingly none from Gen, who probably assumed that she?d found some joyless hump of her own to while away the weekend with. James finally called her the next morning, asking for a date, only to listen to her speak to him as if she was reading from a legal document. ?I cheated on you last night. I went to a club with someone twice as old as you and let him do me on a stage. I was naked and covered in sweat and screaming his name while people cheered him on.? ?So you?re a whore. Good to know.? He spoke those last words with possibly the strongest feeling she?d ever gotten out of him, but even then, they felt as empty as when he?d said he loved her. She stared at the cell phone, the end call screen blinking at her for a few moments, then going dark again. Feeling like she?d had a weight lifted off of her neck, she went through her mail and texts, deleting everything that had ever come from him. She was on the verge of throwing away the earrings he?d bought for her when she stopped herself and put them back in their box. Her roommate noticed Joyce?s expression and bit back a snide comment. Instead she handed her the bottle of sake they?d received from some not so well meaning fraternity brothers and almost wrenched Joyce?s car keys from the nail on the wall as well as her own and turned to her desk again. Joyce contemplated her roommate?s back in a mixture of hatred and gratefulness. It wasn?t that Fumi was a controlling, or impossible to live with, far from it. In fact she was deeply empathetic, capable of diving Joyce?s moods and anticipating when it was time to clear a space on the floor for her to collapse into when she came home late from lecture or vacate the room before she burst in with a male wrapped around her like a giant squid. Conversely, she was as much of a party girl as Joyce was into the lifestyle. Every time Fumi came home late from some club drunk, stoned, or some combination of the two, both were profoundly grateful that their bedroom was on the first floor. With her bed right beneath the completely accessible window, Joyce slept with it open and more than once had been woken when Fumi climbed through it rather than use the door she had lost her keys to. Usually she eased her onto the floor between the beds, but sometimes she just let Fumi sleep with her face mashed into Joyce?s stomach, legs, or feet, depending on how she?d gotten herself up and over the windowsill and how she?d landed. This time, Fumi stayed in to keep Joyce from leaving the relative safety of the dorm and walked with her to Craig?s room across the balcony. Craig was the resident alcoholic enabling, joke telling, slightly amoral chemistry major that used his sense of humor and comedic antics to catapult himself into the coveted position of ?most liked person in dorm.? He took the bottle Joyce had been clinging to like a security blanket ever since Fumi had handed it to her and tilted his head up when Fumi leaned down to whisper something not meant for Joyce?s ears. ?Don?t let her leave unless you?re walking her back to our room.? ?Is it going to be bad? Is she going to get all kinds of fucked up if I leave her alone in here?? He poured Joyce a double shot of the sake and slid it across the table to her without even watching what he was doing. ?You could say that. Or you could just give her a Valium, four shots, and let her collapse into the fetal position on the floor.? Joyce drew herself up from said floor where she?d decided to start her drinking and looked at the pair of them, her eyes already slightly out of focus. She held up her glass and Craig almost absentmindedly refilled it. She downed it in a matter of seconds and then set the glass down, her eyes looking unfocused towards the window and the hills beyond it. Even though her vision was beginning to blur, she could see the lights glittering and growing larger, more unfocused as she let herself relax. Fumi left after giving Joyce a gentle pat on the cheek and Craig turned to pour her more sake when he realized that she was crying quietly to herself. Not sobbing, and not letting her body heave with sadness. Instead she sat still, her legs drawn up to her chest and in an unconsciously graceful movement, turned her back on the window and faced the wall instead. For the first time, Craig was afforded a good view of her back, visible through the semi transparent shirt she?d thrown on. Every welt, every bruise, and laceration seemed to glow to his eyes, even though he hadn?t been the one drinking. Instead of refilling her glass, he knelt next to her and poured himself a drink instead. He leaned against the wardrobe to face her, holding out a Kleenex. She took it awkwardly, and wiped her eyes. ?You?re going to be okay you know.? ?I?m going to be hung over is what I?m going to be.? She sniffed and crumpled up the tissue into a ball. ?Now isn?t that the truth. Why did you go out with that guy anyway?? ?To see how much I could take before crying.? Craig handed her another tissue and gave her a wry smile. ?Couldn?t you have just broken up with him normally? You know, with the crying and pleading and shit?? Joyce almost laughed through her tears, and gave him a look that was meant to be stern but instead came off as offended. ?You know me. Can?t do things the normal way. Have to go all out and then jerk myself back just before I fall off the edge.? Craig almost stared but instead patted her knee and stood up, pulling one of his pillows onto the floor. She took it when he held it out and hugged it to her chest, burying her face in the downy softness. He turned out the lights but didn?t draw the curtains. Instead he went back to his computer to finish his paper and wrap up a couple other assignments before morning. After he fell asleep sitting at his desk, Joyce stood and pulled the shades across the open window. Then she put his pillow back on his bed and made her way back down the hall to her bedroom. Fumi was gone, but the blinds were open, and from there Joyce could see the city lights. She stared until they went out one by one, then she drew the curtain shut, closed her eyes, and fell asleep with her back to the wall. [/SIZE][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I am getting a tattoo, well two parts of one tattoo on my shoulders this November, so if this thread is still alive then you'll see. I also used to have three piercings per ear but two were poorly done and I let them close up. I'll probably get them re-done around Marsh next year as my birthday present to me. My navel was pierced by an expert and has finally healed after two years of on and off infections mostly due to my maleficence. I like my pierced body, but I don't think I would do more than ears and navel, probably because I swim regularly and piercings elsewhere would be immediately apparent. And get in the way. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Gelgoog Pilot'] We were in everyone's affairs, and not just politically but militarily. You mess with enough hornet's nests eventually you'll get stung, it's just a shame innocent people had to pay for the mistakes of our leaders.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Danger Will Robinson. This thread wasn't designed for a 'well we had it coming' standpoint. Please do not turn this into a place to talk about that.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[IMG]http://www.iwatchstuff.com/2008/02/05/bangkok-dangerous-poster.jpg[/IMG] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Despite the title, and the fact that it reminds me of that bloody "One Night In Bangkok" song by that freaking- Nevermind. Bangkok Dangerous was a ****ing amazing movie. It was not the typical R rated bang bang explosions expletives, titties, bang bang, more explosions adrenaline fest with crappy one liners. In fact it was a more methodical, slightly slower paced film about the anonymous assassin and the last four hits he has to complete in Bangkok before retiring. Now at first I was thinking this sure as hell better not turn out to be Matador, just repackaged and with asian gogo dancers and miniskirts. And naturally it turned out to be completely dark and noir and exciting with a helluva ending that was not a wild roller coaster boom time. In fact, when the main character [spoiler]makes his final kill, he knows he's doomed anyway and kills himself and his target by putting him in a submission hold, lining up their heads, and pulling the trigger.[/spoiler] Additionally the insertion of a [spoiler]failed[/spoiler] sweet tender romance that didn't even have any real kissing or sex scenes was wonderful and touching and I was completely enthralled. One: she was beautiful. Two: she was deaf and used American Sign Language [which I could understand. In Thailand. Go figure] and Three: she was faithfully represented, only making sounds when under extreme emotional distress. So if you want an adult movie that requires a little thought and is kind of like a realistic under the top Sin City kinda dark, go for it.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The entire time the female had been sneaking up to the door, Carlotta and Josie were already waiting. I'd given them the non verbal signal to heel and lie down. Carol had already heard her approach, already armed herself, and pulled out two of the four throwing knives she kept in her purse. Not for eaters, but merely to hold back a moderately human attacker. I picked myself up and whirled around in a flash of denim, black velvet and Glock. Two warning shots to either side of her head, just as a note to tell her that my aim was almost as good as Carol's.[/i] "Good thing my morality's been skewed ever since it began. Nobody's innocent in this world anymore little girl. And I don't believe in doing bad things. I believe in living." [i]She recoiled almost perfectly but found herself staring down into Josie's open maw from her position, her other escape route blocked off by the tall male who had identified himself as Korey. Carol walked a few steps away from the kitchen, her tone completely casual.[/i] "I heard you picking the lock, turning on 12th street, and the way your breathing accelerated when you began to break into our house." [i]The intruder opened her mouth briefly to speak, perhaps to voice an explanation when I raised a casual eyebrow at her and put a bit of Jennifer's schoolteacher tone into my voice. Carol had given me a signal by twitching a muscle in her left leg and wiggling her toes just right. The girl had a tell she'd just picked up on with both her vision and hearing.[/i] "No lies in this house. We'll kill you for dishonesty. Carol can always tell when someone's lying." "What if I was going to tell the truth but thought about lying first?" "We could kill you anyway and dump the corpse somewhere for the eaters to get a hold of. You should've knocked. Not come sneaking in like a body snatcher." [i]Here, Carlotta trotted downstairs with Eros behind her. He stood, tall and slim on the staircase, an utterly beautiful male creature, his gold flecked eyes watching her impartially. Then he spoke as well, his tone flat and almost sarcastic.[/i] "So are we going to shoot her first or just torture her a little for information?" "Don't you mean pump?" [i]I put a laugh into my voice, and strolled behind Korey, who felt as tense as a drawn garotte wire. Eros grinned at me. Some days he really did live up to his name. He felt sex the way a human female and a human male did. For him it was almost a spiritual experience. But I never slept with someone with more personalities than me, and Carol was almost completely beyond that. Instead he leaned on the banister casually, one hand on his narrow hip.[/i] "Pump, torture, it'll be the same thing for her if we do it right." [i]The girl stood up slowly, and made no sudden moves, catching the glint of steel in Carol's slightly hidden left hand, but missing the glow in her eyes that meant she'd smelled the fear as well as the contradicting feelings that meant more than just one other person in her mind.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Where were you on September 11th, 2001? When did you hear the news? What did you feel? I was in 8 a.m. sophomore English in high school, holding my girlfriend's hand while she choked on her tears. My teacher was crying because her uncle was in New York and she was sure he was dead. I felt empty and I didn't think about it until weeks later. Everyone walked around class that day in a state of shock, and some didn't know what it meant. I didn't care until people began to politicize it, and to tell us that patriotism itself was bad, as well as pointing fingers. But now I think it's important to remember what happened to America when our guard was down. I'm not promoting war right now for a change, I'm promoting intelligent thought and an honoring of the dead.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[IMG]http://www.theodoresworld.net/pics/0107/BidenImage3.jpg[/IMG] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Not quite in the same font, but some people can't be bothered to find actual images of brainz.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='ChibiHorsewoman'][color=#9933ff] Yes, abstinence is the only sure way to avoid getting STDs and HIV/AIDS (which BTW is not a pretty thing near the end- I've done hospice and recently lost one of my patients to AIDS) but condoms do a pretty good job at preventing STDs if used properly and the sure do prevent those pesky abortions along with contraceptives. I'm not going to tell my daughter in ten years to go out and get laid or whatever, but I'm not going to tell her that sex is a bad thing either.[/color][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Oh yeah, tongue kissing will give you a disease too. I kid. But seriously, I never said that sex was a bad thing, but I don't think it's a good thing for people under the age of consent. It's also very irresponsible and short sighted to give the blame of the broken sex ed curricula today on the current administration. Teenagers have been getting pregnant since Moses walked the Earth and I'm pretty sure that Moses was around before George Bush ever took the oath of office. Personal choices can't be blamed on any given administration because they're just that. Personal choices. If their parents decided to not be parents and give their children the 'talk' or raise them to be aware of their own responsibilities then tough. This may come as a shock to some, but teen pregnancy statistics are actually declining for a change. Whether this is due to Clinton, Bush, the previous Bush, Reagan, or those who came before, nobody can honestly say. It's a murky issue, and not one that I'll let you get by with casually passing off on Bush as so many today are wont to do. Don't believe me about the statistics? Just google "teen pregnancy decline." And then go look yourself. The first two links are rather informative. I'm not going to tell my 8 year old sister that sex is bad either when she's old enough to listen, but I'm going to talk to her about sex because she'll have to hear it from someone besides my extremely religious parents. [/FONT][/COLOR]