Mimmsicle

[FONT=Tahoma][CENTER]Well, I?ve done a couple of searches but so far there?ve been no threads popping up with Nintendogs. And if there is one, then it sure has disguised itself well, hehe. So on with the thread! *****[/CENTER] My first experience with Nintendogs was at work a while back and it was more a glance-over at the packages than an actual hands-on experience, but I digress. The cartridge in itself won me over with its adorable cover, as did the concept of the game when it was presented as an advanced/ modificated version of Tamagotchi. I?m pretty sure most of you, if not all of you, are familiar with the Tamagotchi craze that swept across many nations, though a quick briefing may be required for those who remained oblivious to it. It?s a tiny pocket game where you care for an animal (were there several different animals?) from the moment it?s born/hatched, to the day that it passes on to greener pastures. /End brief Nintendogs has the same fundamental game play as Tamagotchi, but, while the two have similarities, there have been significant changes made. No longer will your dog die if you go away on a trip and forget the game at home, nor will it age or die at all. A Nintendog remains a puppy forever. The worst thing that happens if you ignore it for a longer period of time, is that it becomes very dirty, hungry, thirsty and it takes some time to gain its trust and attention again. But what?s a little extra time spent on a rumbuctious pup compared to going through the trouble of starting all over again? Further positive developments are, of course, the level of interaction that?s possible with the DS and greater emphasis on authenticity. The Tamagotchi merely offered a couple of buttons to push if and when needed, whereas there is a much higher participation aspect in Nintendogs. I personally love how you give the dog a name and call it into the mic to make it come to you. Tricks that are taught by voice commands can range from simple stuff like "shake", to stunts that takes a lot of repetition to stick properly. A lot of focus has gone into mimicking the maintanence of a real dog and implementing it into the game. Maintenance tasks (feeding, bathing, walking) now involve more active choices than choosing button A or B. This makes it both fun in its variety and also gives you an idea of what it?s like to own a real pet. At least it should if you know that pets don?t have an off/on button, costs a lot more than the game and DS put together, not to mention that the weather is not always sunshine when you need to walk the dog at the crack of dawn. -- Speaking of adding touches of realism into the game, I do miss having the ability to take your puppy to the vet. That?s not to say I want the option to make/have it sick, like you could chose to have tornadoes vanquish your town in Sim City, but it would be a cool feature. After all, all puppies need their shots and are prone to accidents, often causing their owners a trip to the vets ... as well as the bank, heh. Something else that is somewhat missed, is the changing of seasons. The light changes from day to night when you?re out on walks but there are no seasonal transitions. Minor niggle, yes. -- Your results with the dog relies heavily on the amount of time you devote to it and what you do with that time. Simply having the game on and watching the dog sleep or walking around won?t get you anywhere (fun as it may be) but instead you bond with it just as you would normally: by providing it with food, love, physical care and lots of play. The choice of dog also plays a big part in your progress. For every breed there are 3 dogs, each with their own temperament and individual needs of commitment from their owner. The Tamagotchi had a very narrow entertainment range, as well as not offering much of a challenge, something you can?t say about Nintendogs. How many more hours of fun you get out of compared to its predecessor depends solely on the individual player. But I can say that for those who are allergic to furry creatures of fluffyness, this is a highly acceptable substitute that can keep you occupied for a very long time and be almost as rewarding as having the real deal. [CENTER]***** I know there?s much more to be said about this game (value in terms of gaming hours, pros, cons) and hopefully we?ll get some of that by the wonderful members of OB![/CENTER] As for my dog, I have a female Pembroke Welsh Corgi by the name Bessy (*glares at Alan*). She is a [B]superb [/B]disc competitor but isn?t very keen on obediance in public. Her favourite buddies are Casey (though sometimes they fall out), Peaches and Spot. She hates Wanda and will sometimes get along with Poppi. Right now she resides in a Japanese style home. I don?t plan on getting more dogs, since I prefer spending all my energy on just the one :catgirl: [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]Awww, Baron stole the spoilertag pun *pinches him* Dearest Des, your writing style is so crystal clear and tongue-in-cheek that it's impossible to read it without giggling like a little school boy! The almost nonchalant way you implement humour into the posts are a breath of fresh air to read. I'm sure you [I]mean[/I] it to be funny but it doesn't feel forced ^_^ Get back in the groove and spoil us rotten again, Des![/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma][quote name='Gavin][SIZE=1']Honestly though, the first thing I'd do is clear all my parent's debts so that they could actually enjoy their paycheques without having massive lumps taken out of them each month. [/SIZE][/quote] Wow, it's not often you hear someone say the exact same thing you've been thinking of yourself (at least when it comes to the subject of getting an as--- hrm, a very large sum of money). It's heartwarming to hear that others would look after their families/others in need, as well. Especially since some express it so sincerely. But even after tending to other people's financial needs, there should still be some money left. Here's where all the material wishes begin. Fun fun! I'd think real hard about what my siblings and parents would be absolutely thrilled about getting (that lands in the same approximate prince range so no one feels slighted) buy it for them and feel completely unashamed about spending the rest on myself. Actually.... A huge list of things to do and buy isn't too hard to compose, so I'll share an idea that struck me while thinking about what to spend my million bucks on: I [unfortunately] got sick of school before getting any kind of proper education that lends itself to a career(not that it's ever been on my mind to have the kind of [B]career [/B]spelled out in big, shiny, Hollywood letters), which is something the world regards very highly and question why you haven't aqcuired or aren't persuing. Sure, it probably gives off the impression that you're a lazy bum who aren't taking charge of your life and living it to the fullest. But then again, some feel fulfilled with very little. Anyway, I'd use the money to search out a school with an education that would give me a diploma/degree in a field I'm passionate about. Preferably something to do with language that could be used in a broader field of work - no pigeonholing me for a narrow job market, thank you. This little dream also demands it take place in another country, since it always helps to be surrounded by the tongue you're trying to embrace. And [I]that [/I]would require either a life filled with mortgages or the gift of one million dollars :catgirl: [/FONT]

[quote name='Gavin][SIZE=1]I have to admit I really like the idea of some smilies specifically designed for OtakuBoards, because we could create a few that are related to in-jokes from OB. Imagine for a moment if we could create the "[I]Des kicking Shin in the nads[/I]" animation for use in all manner of situations, or the "[I]Mimmi gives you a cookie[/I']" smiley for those who are feeling down. [/SIZE][/quote] [FONT=Tahoma]..... The thought of seeing a "[I]Des kicking Shin in the nads[/I]" smiley sends me soaring with laughter while cringing as I imagine the pain brought upon the poor Shinny-Poo >>; It'd be funky to have those kind of smileys, though, with one obvious exception: I'd steal your pants after the giving of a cookie, mwehehehe. A girl can dream, eh? :animesmil[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]OOC: Takuya - close enough. And don't worry about the accenty thing ^_^ The 1½ hours she'd spent in the training room had given Adéle a much needed confidence boost but it rapidly faded at the sight of her team members. Thankfully Laqara took her aside before she could leg it out of there. Having an experienced Field Agents' word of reassurance was all that was needed for the nerves to settle back. Everyone involved in this mission had been summoned because they were right for the job, so worrying over possible mishaps was a waste of energy. If things got ugly further along the line, she'd deal with it then. Once again her hand fleeted over the pendant, as if by touching it it manifested her determination to one day be as strong as the solid glass itself. [I]Mirage... [/I] She'd chosen her callname years ago but today was the first time anyone'd used it. It felt oddly natural, just like anything that had to do with mirrors. A smile played on her lips at the thought of how a psychiatrist would react if she were to talk about her thoughts and feelings on that particular subject. Maybe they'd label it an unusual fetish that needed further analysis, which might lead to a diagnosis saying that it was a perverted fascination or some kind of sexual deviation. Some experimentation could also play a part in establishing the truth behind mirrors pull on Adéle. While that idea amused her somewhat, the more likely scenario of sitting across someone with a bit more professional sense caused little knots to form in her stomach. So far she'd escaped seeing Miss Neros privately but from observing the Head Psychiatrist in action she knew that the woman would look her over, as if by curtesy, and instantly form an opinion so theoretically accurate it hurt to think it was the only truth. [I]"Do you feel lost, Adéle? Are you afraid that the sole proof of your existence is in the reflection of a mirror?" [/I] Wondering if she'd brought any painkillers with her she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. Laqara was checking over the equipment again and gave Adéle a smile before tossing a backpack to her. The rest of the group began to slowly assemble, itching for the mission to start. She forcefully swung the backpack around a shoulder and, in a rather comically fashion, got dragged with it as the weight ruthlessly knocked her on her backside. Sprawled out on the ground for the third time in one day would make any person want to dig themselves a few feet under it to avoid it happening again. But Adéle could only chuckle lightly, surrendering to the tranquility settling inside of her. [i]I may be a little bit fuzzy in almost every aspect of my life, but I'm not lost.[/I] [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]What if you're 35 and lose your virginity but never have sex again. Are you still weird then or does the weirdness go away simply by the act of having had sex? I'm curious =) While I do think that being a recluse certainly diminishes your chances to some loving, it needs to be said that you can go to 3 parties a week [I]but it still doesn't guarantee you'll be getting any action[/I]. Why? Because the key element, the fundamental cornerstone, is still [I]attracting someone's attention[/I]. You can't really get anywhere without that .... unless you dish out for a hooker. If no one is drawn to you it won't matter whether you're at home watching tv or strutting your stuff in a popular club. [SIZE=1](And because everyone wants to know, I'm 23 and a virgin. Sex starved? Maybe a little bit, and it only became an issue recently, but it's not like I can do much about it until someone will want to sex me up, lol.)[/SIZE][/FONT]

[quote name='Luminaire][color=darkred]Yesterday, I went to change my avatar on myOtaku and it didn't work. I tried about twenty or so avatars, but everytime, the picture remained the same. I've been going to [b]Edit Picture[/b] then choosing a picture from my computer and hitting [b]Upload My Picture[/b']. Then I get the message that my image was uploaded successfully. I go to my site...and voila! It didn't change. Am I doing something wrong?[/color][/quote] Nope, you're not doing anything wrong. Usually it helps to just [B]reload the page[/B] =) Believe me, we're quite a few who've had this problem >.> Good thing it can be solved so easily! I hope doing this works for you too ^_^

[FONT=Tahoma]Adéle was the last one to get out of her chair, shell shocked from the briefing in which it had been confirmed they were indeed going on a mission. She'd never been outside of Clandestine since her arrival and before that her life had consisted of a sheltered, peaceful existence in a small Canadian town. At least the part she could remember... Since the Agent Superior seemed like the best person to get answers from she shakily walked over to him, managing to draw a breath before he snubbed her off. "Yes, seeing as this is your first mission and your glaring incapability to control your powers might endanger your team mates, and possibly yourself, I suggest that you use the time until departure gaining as much knowledge you can about your abilities so that you may use them to secure a positive outcome in this mission. The last thing we want is for you to start off your Operations career with fatalities on your records. Don't you agree, Miss Adéle?" He gave her an icy, indifferent smile before turning on his heels and exiting the room. The burning confidence that might've begun to spread in the pit of her stomach at the thought of finally getting somewhere, of making progress with the unknown part of herself, died out and was replaced by a sinking feeling of uselessness that was all too familiar. Adéle bit hard into her lower lip until she drew blood, her clenched fists trembling as she pushed back the tears. [I]It's not fair.[/I] They'd left her no choice and she couldn't afford to prove to them that they were wrong about her. But how was she supposed to return the faith placed in her when she couldn't believe she was worth the leap? Adéle chuckled dejectedly. [I]You silly goose, you can't cling to the luxury of wallowing in that pool anymore. Running backwards won't take you closer to where you're yearning to go either. Haven't you had enough already? It's time to stop hugging your knees and using them to give your fears a good blow in the groin! You keep saying you want to find the real Adéle, so then why don't you? Can't you feel it? She's waiting for you. [/I] Loosening her cramped hands she wrapped them around the pendant, concentrating on how the smooth surface felt against her skin. The words of her departed Mentor echoed in amongst her own ruthless bashings. One final, deep breath later and Adéle felt strong enough to open her eyes. "[I]Ready or not, here I come.[/I]" [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]The four females gathered in the room must've gotten a minor shock as she appeared out of nowhere and crashed violently towards the floor. Taking a defensive stance, not knowing if they were dealing with friend or foe, they stood their ground as Adéle whimpered from the pain spreading in her body and wobbled to her feet. Completely oblivious to where she'd landed her mind threw itself into a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to make sense of everything. She felt as if the answers that had always eluded her was beginning to come together. But something was still missing. [I]What?[/I] "[B]Identify yourself.[/B]" Laqara's authorative voice startled her and the quick spin around caused her to lose balance, promptly falling on an already sore backside again. It was hard to believe that the young woman posed any threat but Laqara didn't back down, knowing full well what underestimating a seemingly harmless stranger could bring about. Adéle blinked while she took in where she was and who she was facing. The females were all as unknown to her as she probably was to them, though the room came off as vaguely familiar. [I]I must still be in Clandestine.[/I] "I ... uhm.." she swallowed back most of the nervous tension and rose to her feet again. "I'm Adéle Palou and, uh, I'm a Healer?" Immediately after finishing the sentence she mentally headbutted herself for ending it sounding like a question. The room was still silent, some of the suspicious glares gaining a tint of curiousity. "ID! I, I have my ID in my pocket" Adéle blurted out and looked over at Laqara for permission to pull it out. She gave a barely visible nod in return, not taking her watchful eyes off Adéle for a split second. After some nervous fumbling and making sure it was the right badge, because this really wasn't the time to make a mistake, she carefully stretched out her hand towards Laqara who peered at it. "[B]So, Adéle, you got an invitation to this mission too?[/B]" she said, with a tone that was decidedly softer and somewhat amused, cocking her head in the direction of the others. Adéle tilted her head to have a closer look at the rest of the group, the fairies' wings especially catching her attention as they glittered in the light. Sakura couldn't resist flapping them a little faster to see the fascinated sparkle in Adéle's eyes, which was a nice change from the usual bulgy stare. Still a little confused Adéle ran a hand over her pendant, calming down enough for her focus to return.Then it hit her what the men in the interrogation quarters had been talking about while her powers got out of hand. [I]They must be involved in the same mission ...[/I] Confident to have some sort of grasp of her situation, however vague that grasp was, Adéle nodded gravely in affirmation. The confirmation calmed down the others, giggles erupting here and there. Sensing that the hostile atmosphere was disappearing relaxed her enough to draw a deep breath of relief, coughing at the sharp pain in her bruised lungs. However, despite being thankful her life wasn't in danger, there was one thing remaining that bugged her. "Does anyone have the time? I'm not sure if this has been a weird day or just a rough night" Adéle smiled sheepishly.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]Adéle sat with her head burried in her hands, trying to reach that happy place where all you can hear is birdsong. It was rather hard, though, with the incessant high-pitched argument going on in the adjoining cell? errr, room. It hadn?t taken security very long to pick her up from the elevator area and ?secure? her in a small interrogation room, fitted with the stereotypical mirror. The walls might?ve been thick enough to keep those with undeveloped powers out of the loop but she didn?t even need to focus her powers to sense the heated talk between her newly appointed (not to mention struggling) mentor and some suit. Getting into trouble at training sessions from being incompetent was already bad enough. She only had to endure humiliation to her ego in a controlled setting, with minimal damage done to unsuspecting bystanders (because, let?s face it, everyone in the training area were always forewarned about her sessions), but never before had it gotten out of hand like this. Peeking between her fingers Adéle could see the blurred outline of herself in the mirror. She thought back at holding the knife and seeing the reflections bounce off of it. There had been a strange calm overcoming her as she?d twirled the shiny metal about, almost like a safety blanket wrapping itself around your shoulders. Her eyelids began to feel heavy as her mind wandered, the landscape in the mirror fading out like a painting where all the colours bleed into one another. In the distance she could hear how the fighting had subsided, a third voice talking with restraint. Whatever they were talking about was serious, a matter of importance that somehow might involve Adéle, yet all the while she fell deeper into a trance-like state from gazing into the mirror. Something had changed. With herself? The mirror? [I]Maybe both[/I], she thought and tentatively stood up. Looking more closely at the reflective surface it appeared there [I]was [/I]a difference happening, despite it not really having changed. The bare walls, table and chair, were still there. So was she. Everything was the same and yet not. She could see the image at the same time as she saw a completely different place before her. A place that wasn?t that room, somewhere where she wasn?t. Realizing this made her heart jump, flashes of other times floating by. It had always gone away or blown something away when she?d tried to reach out for that space of unknown. With one key difference. Back then she?d only felt a tiny fraction of what surged through her body right now. This time was not like the others. ***** [B]?We think that with this new progression in Miss Palou?s powers she might be of interest in this mission. That will be determined once we know the specifics of today?s development, however. Is she ready for us?? ?I think she?s had enough time to calm down. Just ? go easy on her.?[/B] ***** Her hands shook as they touched the mirror?s frame, an image behind the reflection growing stronger. Alien landscape stretched out before her, new smells mingling in each breath she took, frightening sounds from animals echoed all around. Someone called out her name but she couldn?t tell if the voice was welcoming or ushering her away in anger. Adéle?s heart raced as curiosity faded to give way to fear, icy terror erasing the burning joy in her limbs. As she looked back she saw the door to the interrogation room slam against the wall as the three shocked men raced towards her, throwing themselves at her disappearing form to pull her back. It was too late and she fell backwards into darkness until a blinding light struck her eyes, her body slamming onto a cold, hard ground. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]?[I]Amazing how food can have such a calming effect on people[/I]?, Adéle contemplated while brushing up the last of her meal with a slice of white bread. She?d thought of it plenty of times and even applied it to her work; there was always a piece of candy or fruit ready to offer those who were distressed when checking into her department. Though in some cases it had made things worse, especially in situations that involved people suffering with delusions and paranoia. Luckily it was an exception to the rule. A middle-aged man entered the restaurant as she gulped down the last of the bread and upon recognizing him she nearly got it down her windpipe. He was part of the staff assigned to help/monitor the ?progress? with her uncooperative power. Not knowing what time it was, and just in case it was in the middle of the night, which would make him fire off the routine enquiry, it seemed like the best option would be to sneak off. She stuffed her right hand into the pocket of the coat to fish out some money, completely forgetting that her right hand was still tightly clenched around the knife. Unfortunately there was no time to toss it back onto the table as the man was already weaving his way through the tables, waving friendly. She smiled meekly at him while twisting her hand around nervously in the pocket, knocking the knife into her cell phone. Chef George unknowingly came to her aid as he distracted the man with a hearty greeting. Thinking on her feet she fished up the phone, randomly punched in a couple of numbers and, in the vain hope of being able to pull off an escape somehow, anxiously waited for whoever it was she had just rung to pick up. ?H--? The recipient (of her almost prank) call didn?t get a chance to answer as Adéle quickly began to act as if she had been called up. "[I]This is Adéle. Oh hey, we?re still on aren?t we?[/I]" "?What?" a voice on the other end of the line asked surprised. "[I]That?s great! See you in five then, bye![/I]" She mouthed a ?[I]gotta go[/I]? to the man and gestured with the phone, wasting no time to dart out into the streets. A relieved sigh came out more like a relieved groan, making passers-by nod their heads at her. They probably though it was her way of saying hello. Returning their nods with an embarrassed smile she slipped back the phone into her pocket and felt the knife graze her hand, much like a cat stroking itself against your leg. Figuring she?d might?ve scared people with her behaviour already she decided to wait until reaching the elevators to pick it up and dispose it in one of the trash cans. Two of the three elevators were broken, the functioning one still being a couple of floors away. The area around them was empty so Adéle picked up the knife. She twirled it carefully around in her hands, admiring the pattern engraved on the shiny surface and smiling childishly at the reflections in it. Not being able to tear her attention away from the fascination it sparked she completely forgot about the world around her. All that existed to her in that moment was the reflection of her eyes looking back at her, for the first time with a glint of happiness. As the elevator stopped at her floor and the doors opened the man inside was taken aback at the sight of a woman with a knife in her hand. Though what freaked him out even more was the fact that the space around her was warped and almost enveloped her. He decided now was not the time for pleasantries and lunged at her, determined to dispose of the threat she presumably posed. Having the object of her distraction knocked away brutally from her hands tore Adéle slowly back into the real world, her mind stumbling to understand what was happening. The barrier wobbled considerably and started to dissolve ferociously. It was as if it ripped, stretched and crumbled together the area it had covered around the two as they fell to the floor. The man pinned her to the ground with his weight, effectively protecting her from what looked like was going to finish them off, bracing himself for whatever would happen next. And suddenly it stopped. Everything was the same as before the barrier appeared. Not sure what to make of what had occurred he stared around him bewildered, his eyes snapping back at the woman when she coughed and came to her senses again. "Another strange ... yet rather normal, day at Clandestine", he grumbled to himself. [/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma]The sound of a door slamming shut along with a loud bang as Adéle ran straight into the bedroom doorframe clashed like deafened cymbals, enhancing the beating of drums in her head. With tears stubbornly flowing out of her eyes she fumbled across the floor until her fingers touched cold glass. Curling up in a tight ball on the floor she played her fingers over the mirror frame and burrowed her head into the soft carpet. As much as Adéle loved the mirror she couldn?t stand seeing her own reflection in it, especially not when she was in this state. And even when she [I]would [/I]look into it her eyes yearned to stay unfocused, to see beyond the image of a sad young woman searching for answers in an inanimate object. So she had failed again. Had anyone expected differently? After all, nothing had changed since the last time she tried and it would most likely go awry the next week as well. Why did there even have to be a next time? All it even amounted to was further humiliating her and adding another report on the consequences her inability caused. Adéle didn?t want to think about a next time. She kicked out with her leg in frustration and knocked over the bedside table, subsequently killing her alarm clock?s persistent ticking in the process. The sudden silence triggered sensory memories of agonizing screaming being cut like a string on a violin. Behind her closed eyes she could see the contorted colours and warped shapes all over again. Survival instinct told her to erase the nightmare but she gripped the frame and forced herself to remember each excruciating detail. [I]You don?t get to forget. This is what happens because of you. Because you can?t remember. [/I] Hours later her strained breathing had slowed down into tired sighs, her fingers continuing to caress the wooden carvings delicately. The tension lessened in Adéles body as fatigue draped itself over her. As she drifted off to sleep she made sure to store today with all the others, hoping that one day they would be like her memories. Gone. The sleep was neither peaceful nor long. After one disturbing dream too many she gave up on the idea of a good nights rest and took a quick shower. As she was changing into some sweats her stomach grumbled audibly. Thinking of how nice some Spaghetti Bolognaise would be only furthered the growls. Since the alarm clock was broken she didn?t really know what time it was, not that it mattered. ?La Mirage de Rouge?, the restaurant she went to, was open all hours. She began to put her cap on but winced as it pressed against the bump from banging against the doorframe earlier. Rubbing the sensitive skin she wondered why they couldn?t give her something to help her with that stupid barrier as well. "[I]Any kind of aid that we could develop might be potentially harmful to you, Adéle. Until we know more about this power there really is nothing we can do for you[/I]", she repeated to herself. It was difficult to be thankful for all the assistance Clandestine had given her over the years when they could do nothing about her biggest, and only, problem. [I]"It?s not like I really need you anyway"[/I], she said in a low voice to the cap and put it back on its hanger. Not many people crossed her path as she made her way to the restaurant, which didn?t say anything about what time it might be. People around Clandestine rarely functioned the same hours as everyone else; a train leaving in the middle of the night could have more people on it than one leaving at ?rush hour? as it may be. One?s perception of ?normality? sure cashed in on the overtime here. Then again, those who ended up at Clandestine probably had no problem with seeing things beyond the norms of what is standard to begin with. La Mirage de Rouge appeared as empty as her stomach, the smells only making her hunger more urgent. Upon browsing the menu she noted with disappointment that Spaghetti Bolognaise wasn?t on it. The meals were on a rotitionary basis so if a dish was served on a Monday it didn?t mean it would be available the next Monday again. Needless to say those with an obsessive compulsory personality never dined here. The chef cleared his throat just as she was about to leave and put a tray on the counter top. ?[B]What will it be?[/B]? ?[I]Oh, I .. uhm...[/I]? Adéle smiled apologetically while trying to think of a good excuse. That was, however, impossible since the chef broke into his trademark bellowing laughter. Though it vibrated with heart she still squirmed from discomfort of feeling like a small child that doesn?t understand something. ?[B]Voila, this is what you were looking for on that menu, non?[/B]? he said as a plate with Spaghetti Bolognaise appeared steaming hot on the tray. Raising her eyebrow she looked at his big cheesy grin with confused amusement. Sure she was a regular here but it wasn?t like this was the only meal she ever ate. It was her comfort food, though she?d never admit it to anyone. He wasn?t a telepath or a man of heightened senses, that much she knew from what little information she had on him. So how come he ? The shy smile on Adéles face shifted into a sad frown. ?[I]I come here every Thursday, huh?...[/I]? Chef George?s cheesy smile softened and he gently nudged the tray towards her without any further words. Despite not being a telepath of anything of the sorts, George had been a chef at Clandestine for long enough to pick up the quirks of his customers, quirks that even they themselves weren?t aware of. Serving her favourite dish to her after the Thursday Trial was the only way he could think of to help the young woman. Sometimes there would be other customers in the restaurant the same time as her and he?d try to sneakily coax then into approaching her, with mixed results. Unfortunately there was no one else dining at the moment and Spaghetti Bolognaise was the only thing he could offer. George sighed at the sight of the lone woman savouring her meal before turning his attention to the washing up, whistling an old tune.[/FONT]

[FONT=Tahoma][b]Name: [/b] Adéle Palou (she's English speaking) [b]Age: [/b] 23 [b]Gender: [/b] Female [b]Race: [/b] Human [b]Origin: [/b] Another dimension, undisclosed thus far (because of memory loss on her part and impossibility to trace her origin), but she dwelled in Canada from the age of 14 to 18 before being transferred to Clandestine. [b]Function: [/b] Healer [b]Call sign: [/b] Mirage [b]Equipment: [/b] -[I]Armour[/I] A black cap (given to her by the organization) that is clad with a special alloy to help her subdue her powers. Though, even when wearing the cap, she?s still very sensitive to how people talk/move and worries she'll misunderstand someone or misjudge a situation. -[U][URL=http://img204.echo.cx/img204/1181/necklace5cq.jpg][i]Pendant[/i][/URL][/U] The pendant, carved out of a pink shard, was a gift from her mentor and on his death bed he pointed to it and whispered his last words ?[i]She's waiting for you; don't be afraid[/i]?. It didn?t make any sense to her at the time but shortly after that she noticed a surge in strange dreams and sensory memories (they were most intense just after arriving to Canada but subdued over the years), presumably from her past, that she struggles to understand. [b]Special abilities:[/b] Adéle prefers to call herself an Analyst rather than a Telepath since the range of her power rarely forces her to specifically read a persons thoughts; more often than not she?ll settle with observing the behaviour and sense the state of mind they?re in, drawing a conclusion from the clues or ?vibes? she gets. When asked about it she refers to her power as intuition, sometimes she jokes it?s ?mind mathematics?, to avoid the reaction that [i]Telepath [/i]evokes in most people: recoiling in fear of having one?s mind prodded without permission and going to silly degrees of avoidance to keep any ?invaders? out of their head. She can also create a ?force field? of sorts (it?s more like a barrier), for shorter periods of time, though it takes a toll on her mentally. Because of her memory loss she isn?t able to fully control this power but experts within Clandestine are confident there is more to this. They also believe that once her memory is restored she shouldn't have any problems manipulating it. [U][b][URL=http://img204.echo.cx/img204/1309/terisa26dk.jpg]Appearance[/URL][/b][/U] At 5?7, Adéle isn?t very strong physically but she?s got endurance from years of rigorous and strict mental training. When she puts her mind into it she?s been recorded to run fast and hard for 10 minutes straight, hold onto a bar for 1 hour and be completely motionless close to 24 hours. These instances were all in direct connection to dangerous situations, though; otherwise she hasn?t been very committed to work on her physical stamina. [b]Legacy: [/b] 9 years ago, on a stormy night in Fort Hope in northern Canada, Adéle?s lifeless body was found by Bartholomew Palou (a retired Agent Superior, who began his career in Clandestine as a Physician). She was wearing a medieval looking dress that was tattered with blood from cuts on her body, presumably from a sword. Thinking she had escaped a strange cult Bartholomew took her in and treated her back to health. When she was physically mended from whatever ordeal she?d been through, he tried to find out more about the past of the young girl. But Adéle was unable to shed any light on the life she?d led up till the point when Bartholomew had found her in the woods. The new surroundings, strange and foreign to her mind, made it hard work to gently break open the walls she put up around her so he decided to settle with helping Adéle get accustomed to a new life in Fort Hope. It was easy work since she quickly absorbed everything he had to say, and sometimes didn?t finish saying. As time went on, her reclusiveness lessening, it became clear that Adéle was no ordinary girl. She knew to do things before being asked, approached new situations with an uncanny foresight and during fresh conversations he felt as if she?d been given a script and simple repeated what her lines was. But at such a crucial stage, where most people would freak out and tear down the progress she?d made, Bartholomew approached her about this with a delicacy that came from many years of guiding humans to embrace and develop their mystical powers. In doing so he continued to gain her trust and the abilities manifested themselves clearer over the next couple of years, convincing Bartholomew to bring his protégé for training at Clandestine. There she became aware of her shaky capability to produce a force field/barrier, though no matter how hard she tried to develop this skill she couldn?t seem to tap into the part of her that controlled it. The young girl retreated often to her quarters, where she spent hours gazing vacantly into the full-length mirror, disheartened by failure. Due to Adéle?s careful nature, which most people mistake for fragility/weakness, she was put into training as a Healer and although she made progress in her education very rapidly it hasn?t reflected much onto her assertive personality. When Adéle was 20 years old, Bartholomew?s health started to deteriorate. He suffered a stroke that put him back to the state of a 5-year old, but true to the military pride in him he refused to accept being diagnosed an invalid. With Adéle?s help he worked hard to return to his former glory. Unfortunately he never made a full recovery, dying shortly after a heart attack almost 2 years ago. After her mentor died Adéle wanted to try and honor his memory by following in his footsteps. So far that?s surmounted to her tentatively contemplating asking to be transferred to Field Researcher. The fact that she?s not able to make much use of her secondary power is just one thing that?s holding her back. Suddenly it feels like she doesn?t know who she is and it torments her even more now that she didn't try harder to make sense of the dreams, instead of pushing them away to construct a new existence for herself. Bereft of memories from a life she once had, knowing that they?re a key to unlock the suffering that hinders her to blossom into the woman she could be, Adéle mourns every night in front of her mirror. [b]Deity/Lord: [/b]Not applicable. [b]Quotes: [/b] ?[I]This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.[/I]? ?[I]Even in the most dark and empty of eyes there lies a soul in hiding, waiting for someone to set it free.[/I]?[/FONT]

Then there's tea-tree oil, zink paste, and my mom (who's a certified Dermatologist) recommends [B]Dermalogica[/B]'s products. Like others have said, though, visit a Dermatologist or a proper beauty salon. They'll be able to help you out=)

[FONT=Tahoma][SIZE=2][COLOR=DarkRed]Charlie reluctantly broke away from his lovers' intense fondling and tried to constrain his voice into a whisper, though it came out more like a moan. ?I have to go soon?? ?Silly Bucket, 3 hours isn?t what I?d call soon? Tim replied softly and showed no sign of stopping. ?I know but if I don?t prepare myself mentally to leave and just run straight from the bed and out the door, I might get arrested for indecent exposure? he quickly spurted out, spazming in between the electric waves that shot through his body. ?You mean because of this?? Delicate fingertips rubbed the hard contour under the sheet in very slow and deliberate strokes. ?Still so polite and [I]almost [/I]unspoilt? chirped the older boy with a hint of sadistic pleasure in his tone. ?Looks like we?ve still got some work to do until the rest of you is as untamed as this wild beast.? ?Seriously, T--- oooooooh?? In the back of his mind Charlie thought of excuses to tell his mother for being late while pretending to actually make an effort in breaking loose from the enthusiastic hands, which of course only egged them both on further. The ?T&T? game (as Tim had affectionately named it) was a favourite of theirs; a tussle back and forth in submission and dominance, resistance and surrender. Though Charlie lacked the confidence to be dominating, something Tim did his best to change by teasing him into taking charge. ?I?d continue but since you have to go soon?? Tim whispered tauntingly in Charlie?s ear before moving down the bed. ?Aaaaaahhhh, don?t you dare sto---? the sensation of a wet tongue snaking down his spine and lips suckling their way around the hip rendered him speechless until the desire for release made him beg for mercy explicitly. ?That?s more like it, loverboy...? It was more than 3 hours later that he stumbled out the apartment, adjusting his boxers and walking in a half-sprint down the street. Heavy beats streamed out of Tim?s window doing their best to snatch Charlie back inside, but he still didn?t feel strong enough to risk facing the consequences of his mother finding out about this new page in his life. Chuckling at the thought of being more resilient against the pleasure in his life than the pain, a flickering light from the beauty parlor across the busy road bounced into his eyes. The stinging rays made it difficult to see if anyone was in his way or not so it wasn?t surprising that he ran straight into someone carrying a large box, causing the contents to spill out on the pavement and creating both a scene ? as well as the most delightful potpourri of art he?d even seen. Strewn out in front of him was the latest cd from Willy Wonka, every single inlay designed in a way different from the other. One case in particular attracted his attention. The plastic cover had been completely shattered, not unlike a mirror waiting to fall apart after having something thrown at it. Charlie was slightly sedated by pure shock from the impact of the rather heavy courier and so mesmerized with what seemed like the gateway to another world that he didn?t hear a rather incoherent verbal exchange between the upset owner and the equally pissed off courier. It wasn?t until after being brutally pulled to his feet and pushed into the music store that his senses began to return to normal. ?I?m so terribly sorry, there was a light and it ?? Charlie began to apologize but his voice slowly faded out when he saw that the owner was solely focusing on the condition of the cd?s that had fallen out of the box. A tense silence wrapped around the two as they went into an office at the back of the store. The atmosphere reminded him of scenes from movies he?d seen on tv, where the silence was always followed by a terrible secret being revealed or someone?s fate being decided on. ?Hmph, well, looks like there?s only one that?s damaged? the man muttered somewhat dissapointedly and stepped out into the store again, motioning for Charlie to follow. Criss-crossing through the isles they walked over to the cash registers where a young girl slouched over the counter, looking very busy with filing her nails. When she spotted the owner her back shot straight up and the extended eyelashes began fluttering madly. ?Good morning Mr Owner, sir? she squealed with an almost other-worldly perky voice, through a smile that would?ve made an orthodontists orgasm. ?It would seem so, Miss Day. Especially for this young man who gets to take home a copy of what looks to be the next number one album, a day earlier than everyone else? the owner smiled to Charlie and patted him roughly on the back. ?At full price, of course? he added and stuffed the cd into Charlie?s hands before turning on his heel, leaving two very confused teenagers gaping after him. The girl more so over the fact that Wonka had stated his latest cd would be sold for half the retail price [I]maximum [/I](since he was more interested in getting his message spread than his accountant?s legs when she insisted on going through boring sales numbers with him personally), Charlie because he could sense impending doom if he was caught with it. ?You don?t like Manson or something?? she questioned inquisitively after looking him up and down. Charlie felt frantic with worry, his eyes switching between being glued to the broken case and the counter, trying to think of how to get out of a possible disaster. Absentmindedly he fingered a stack of cd?s next to the cash register that had a familiar face on them. ?? Mozart.? ?Huh?? she bleated at the (in her ears) intelligible name. ?Mozart? he said more decisively, tapping on the stack. ?I like Mozart. How much is it?? The girl looked at him with a very unimpressed face before putting a copy in a plastic bag along with the Wonka cd and ringing up the items. ?That?ll be $30 in total, please.? Throwing some bills at the counter and snatching the plastic bag Charlie made a mad dash, worthy of an Olympic gold, back to his house. He staked out the driveway from the safety of their neighbours huge rhododendron bushes, simultaneously calling the home number on his cell to check if anyone was home. There were no cars around so when no one answered he felt it safe to sprint the rest of the way to his room, lock the bedroom door, jumping into the closet and slump down to the floor. Once his heartbeat sunk to a semi-normal pace he tugged a string dangling next to the door. Fragile light shone down onto his lap where the cd?s lay in the bag. He pulled out the Wonka cd, admiring it despite not being able to see much through the cracks, then slowly began opening the broken case. "[I]At once my dim closet was illuminated by a radiant yellow shimmer and there it was ... The Golden Ticket, beaming brilliantly at [B]me[/B], of all people.[/I]" - Charlie[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT]

Uhm, what about her parents/siblings? Are they around in any shape or form? Because ideally they'd take an interest in making sure she's not getting into trouble. If she can't be responsible about her own life then she needs someone who she'll be accountable for, someone whose advice and thoughts she'll listen to/respect. Is there anyone you can "hand over the torch to" that will keep an eye out for this girl's safety?

I am one of those boring people that don't drink (yet), so skip this post if you were looking for an account of my escapades in the land of Alcohol =P The smell of beer puts me off drinking it; I wouldn't mind trying out some wine but so far I've not really been tempted to sip it up. To put it simply: alcohol doesn't interest me, neither in taste or effect. My body's chemicals run wild enough for me to experience something close to (or possibly [I]beyond[/I] O.o) a state of drunkeness [I]without [/I]using the aid of toxins and if I want to gulp down something tasty I'll just grab the milk =D There is however [URL=http://www.friedlin.com/underberg.html]one [U]alcoholic fluid[/U][/URL] that I drink, merely because it averts stomach illness fiercly well. The taste is [I]horrid[/I], your throat and stomach [B]burns[/B], but it does the trick in eliminating those buggers that try to make you sick.

It's been ages since I wrote under time pressure but there was never really a problem with that back in school, mostly because the subjects we had to write about would always manage to click with my inspiration. Who knows, maybe pressure sparks that competition freak/addict in me? >> [quote=AzureWolf]"Writing something instead of typing it makes timing more annoying." "In addition, my handwriting tends to be sloppier than usual."[/quote] Tell me about it, haha. Not to mention when your hand starts to cramp up, then you really wish it was allowed to type on the computer *cringes from memories* What's also slightly embarrassing for me is that I tend to write really loudly (ie, put too much pressure on the pen/pencil) and because I write very fast, people always go "O_____o" at me. :animeswea But to sum it up, I don't think my writing changes between 'no pressure' situations and 'time constraint pressure' situations. Except my tendency to be 'swirly' is limited when there's not enough time to go over things and I end up keeping things fairly tight :p

[B]Charlie Bucket[/B] [B]Parent/Guardian:[/B] Grandpa Joe [B]Age:[/B] 14 [B]Biography:[/B] Charlie Bucket is your ordinary rebellious teenage boy: making a mess of his room, playing loud music, cussing out his parents and being generally disrespectful towards them. But that?s not all. He frequently takes advantage of his mother?s abundance of make-up and clothes and every chance he gets to slip on a pair of silky panties or paint his lips in the most voluptuous pink is something he treasures more than jerking off. Because just like jerking off is something he has to do in secret, so are all the other rebellious acts carried out. Yes, you guessed it. Charlie?s life is run by his dominant mother who is raising him on her own after her husband, Charlie?s father, ran off with the pool guy. So when his mother comes home from work in the evenings, the house is in perfect order, all the spit has been wiped off the family portrait and the only sound that can be heard is Charlie rehearsing a classical piece on the piano. Like the good boy he is. And Charlie [I]is [/I]a good boy, he just lacks confidence to stand up for himself and the courage to fully live life the way he would like. That?s probably why he lets people walk all over him; it?s the only way he knows to please people. But that?s all about to change. Wise beyond his years, Charlie has both the appearance and attitude to match his maturity. This has its benefits as he realized one night while wandering all dolled up past a nightclub that he?d heard people buzz about. A very drunk man was badgering the bouncer, demanding to know just what the requirements for being let in were. Before Charlie could react he was being pulled over to demonstrate what they were before being herded into the 18+ club with the other approved. The joint was pretty packed with people of all orientations and kinks, most of which were scoping out prospects from the bar or trying to get lucky on the dance floor. Though some were satisfied with watching the set of stalls in a corner that was dark enough to offer some privacy but still enough lit to allow everyone to share the pleasure of those occupying them. Various toys were hanging from the ceiling in case the alcohol and music wasn?t enough to satisfy the customers. One couple tried to sneak a leather leash with them on their way out of a stall, a threesome had barely gotten into theirs before engaging in a heavy **** session. The sight of [so many] people openly giving into their desires made Charlie?s repressed mind spin and his groin scream for release. ?[I]People sure weren?t joking when they said this place vibrates with atmosphere[/I]? Charlie chuckled as the music died down briefly, trying to find his balance in this enticing new world. No sooner had he spoken as a soft breath tickled his ear and a strong hand gripped him between his legs from behind, rendering his self control to zero. ?[B]I see ..., or should I say [b]feel[/b],that the atmosphere isn't the only thing vibrating in here.[/B]? The silence was instantly killed by music streaming out of the speakers, engulfing them both with its erotic beat. A body began rubbing against Charlie?s back and another hand snuck up his shirt to circle his nipples while the other hand kept a firm grip around his throbbing dick. He unconsciously arched into the person behind him, urged on by the hard pressure on his ***. The music seemed to seep into his pours; he could feel it fill all the empty space inside him. Never before had music offered him such sweet refuge. There was no thought anymore, everything switched over to autopilot and he surrendered himself completely. Offering what little resistance his arms could muster he loosened the grip of the hands covering his body and turned around to come face to face with the most gorgeous man he?d ever laid eyes on. Going with the moment he snaked one leg around the man, pushing them as close together as possible, while teasing his tongue over the others lips and running his hands through the short hair. The two melded, gyrating along lustfully to the song. Halfway through the song they?d somehow found their way into a storage room and, while briefly stopping for air, exchanged names. His name was Tim, Charlie?s first time, and despite the age difference, eventual legal issues and most importantly the complications of keeping a boyfriend secret from his oppressive mom, they became lovers. The relationship was similar to that of a teacher and student, among which Tim taught him not only pleasurable techniques in the bedroom but also introduced him to the artist behind the song playing during their first encounter. It was Willy Wonka - considered by the unapproving mass as a raving lunatic, his fans recognized him as an eccentric genius. One day after leaving Tim?s apartment Charlie walked past a music store and saw Wonka?s newest cd on sale. Weighing the risk of his mother finding the album he bought it along with a classical album to hide it in. Charlie?s whole world seemed to begin and end as the light bounced off the golden ticket inside the Wonka case on his lap, while his mother?s car pulled up the driveway. Of course Charlie can?t very well bring his mom along and he has no idea where his father is. Sitting down and going through the list of possible relatives to take with him, the only one he remembers with fondness is his grandpa. Grandpa Joe had been accused for paedophilia when Charlie was around 7 years old, his mother severing all ties to the aging man, banning all contact between him and his grandson. When the young boy questioned the truth in the allegations she saw it as defiancy and quickly corrected it by sending him to a boot camp where both the adults in charge and kids gave him hell for 6 months. That was the only time he?d ever spoke up to her. Never finding out whether or not his grandpa had been cleared or not from the allegations, Charlie kept his memory of him pure, remembering only the fun games they got up to. A few investigating calls later a letter is sent, asking grandpa Joe to accompany Charlie to Wonka Inc. [B] Appearance:[/B] [IMG]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=23122&stc=1[/IMG]

In the case of a friend coming to you for advice, it can sometimes be enough to just have them talk about their issue/problem and they'll figure out the answer themselves. Ask them about different solutions they can think of and what they'd think is the best one/which they'd choose. Then if they really can't come to a conclusion on their own, you can come with suggestions. That's my take on it anyway ^.^ And to answer your original question, depending on the seriousness in the situation you're asked to give advice on, I'd say you're not in the wrong to give your opinion. Because, in the end, the person is [I]asking [/I]you for it and [B]want [/B]your input or for you to help them sort things out. Sometimes a voice that is unfamiliar with the subject matter is the best, because that forces the person in question to explore their situation from another point of view ^.^

Dejectedly she sunk back into a cold metal chair, feeling as if the blood rushing from her head vanished into the shadows of the room. Low murmurs bled into the sound coming from a beat-up old fan, presumably left there to keep the room cold. But she was already frozen and it only made that feeling of her blood leaving her body grow stronger. As if warmth ... as if [I]life[/I], would never return to her again after this. The low hum was lulling her thoughts, all jumbled up in a mess not too unlike the one she was herself. Craig was leaning in the doorway, gaze firmly locked to the ground, not moving a muscle. Asshole or no, he realized how delicate the situation was, what a false move would jeopardize. Everyone's hard work could be for nothing if he said one word wrong. Everything they'd all busted their asses for was embodied in the girl sitting limp in a chair across the room from him. Now was not the time to falter and yet he felt courage slipping away in each passing spin of the fan, time wasted in every blink of his eyes. Why did they have to assign him, of all people, to deal with her? He'd never done anything right when it came to that girl and somehow it didn't feel like today would be any different. But everything depended on it to be. The sound of a chair grating against the cement floor made him look over to her. She was pushing herself away from the steely chunk of metal they called table and rose slowly. Her auburn hair shielded most of her face that sometimes would gently, almost carefully, radiate after a successful mission. He felt a tinge of pain in his chest at the thought of the picture perfect face of bravery she put on that peeled away so fast when she thought no-one saw her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she inhaled heavily before opening her eyes. - [I].... I'm sorry.[/I] It was said so meekly, so ... open. She'd never spoken to him in a tone that left her vulnerable and it managed to be more powerful than all the times he'd gotten an earful of verbal (sometimes physical) abuse slung his way during the time they'd worked together. The clumsy attempts that he and others had made at reaching out to her, to include her ... had just made her more distant. No matter how much he searched her face from a distance for clues on how to help her, nothing ever came to him. Now it was staring right at him. - [I]I'm really sorry, Craig.[/I] The tears began to run down her face. He gave her a sad smile and wondered how many days and nights she had spent crying to herself in the dark. Shifting his weight to spin around he took a deep breath and waved his hand dismissively while straightening himself out. This time it was his turn to put on a brave face. Thinking about it made him chuckle, however strained. - [B]Heh, I'd love to stay and chat about whatever you think is requiring you to apologize to me but I've got a date with a bottle of beer and a deck of cards. Take a rain-check?[/B] - [I].... Ok. Rain-check.[/I] Shuffling down the hallway he shouted over his shoulder to her. - [B]I'll be thinking of you when I put my hands on that sweet Queen of Hearts![/B] The elevator was humming pleasantly as it rose up the many flights to the top. A loud ping signalled that it had reached its destination and the doors whooshed open. Walking out of it she found herself outside the only apartment on that floor. An elaborate drawing, done completely in vibrantly colored markers, decorated the door and as she fleetingly ran her hand over it she spotted two names over the figures embracing in the middle of it. The memory of their landlords flustered face upon discovering their "masterpiece" on the ivory finished door, "[I]made of exclusive mahogany[/I]" as he'd pointed out, calmed her racing heart somewhat. Opening and closing the large wooden frame behind her she could see him sitting in the living room with the cat in his lap. They both looked up as the lock clicked shut and he gave her his most loving of smiles. - How did you get here? - [I].... I pulled a royal straight flush....[/I] - Hm? I hope it didn't have anything to do with sewage. He wrinkled his nose and seemed to seriously ponder what that would entail. It warmed her inside to see that, despite what had been going on, he was still the same. Time seemed to have come to a halt after she left. She walked over to the window and looked out at a beautiful sunset covering the sky with its multitude of colors. Cars bustled on a busy road far down below. The radio played old love songs on low volume. - [I]It's like nothing's changed.[/I] Putting the cat down on the floor, much to its chagrin, he began moving towards her tentatively. - You could stay here and it would be like it used to be. The two of us. We could put on one of our Greek dramas for the cat. He's a great audience--- - [I]How can I go back? How? What would it take for me to get over knowing everything, that sunset, these streets, this world... you... oh God, [B]you[/B]... It's all short of nothing but a bunch of numbers and back in the real world the sky, the land, is covered in... infested with... Tell me how. Please.[/I] She turned around to face him, pleading silently that he would reach out to her and erase the sensation of slimy liquid creeping up her body, tubes snaking around her neck, the dull aching pulsating through her spine at the thought of metal snapping sharply as it detached itself from another reject. If he could just make her believe. She needed ... no, she [B]wanted [/B]to believe. - I love you. - [I].... You're not real...[/I] - Neither of us are really part of this world in a sense and at the same time we're what defines it. What's real or not is all in the boundaries in our minds. [B]You [/B]decide what's real and not. Can you honestly tell me that, even with what you know, our time together was 'just a bunch of code'? Are the memories and what we shared suddenly any different because of that? Does it make your feelings, [B]my [/B]feelings, any less true? - .... No. [B]No[/B], it doesn't. - See? I'm as real as you want me to be, as real as you'll [I]let [/I]me be.... Craig snapped his head around when a sudden burst of commotion broke out at the far end of the room. The commanding officer had just come bulldozing through the door, his entrance so explosive that the people in the small control nearly had a collective heart attack and feared for the safety of not only their precious equipment but their own well being. It was bad enough having to worry about sentient machines coming after them, they didn't need the wrath of their fellow [I]human [/I]commander on their backs too. A dull echo bounced back and forth, cutting through the tense atmosphere. Craig returned his focus to the keyboard while the rampant outburst continued. - What is she thinking? Can any of you tell me what is going through that woman's head that makes her pull such a bloody stupid stunt? Can you? She's risking everything and for what?! A fucking program! Streams of code, yeah, that's it! Oh, but he's not just any piece of program, nooo. He just so happens to be the mega fucking dies irae of those bastard machines' army, that are hell bent on erasing our existence from this planet! But, hey, I guess all that information in the debriefing went in one ear and out the other when she thought about the possibility of getting back with lover boy, right? I'm telling ya?ll, he must've been a fucking royally good screw for her to stab us in the back like this, hah! Craig?s finger hovered over the last key he needed to enter. - [B]Well, it wouldn't be a royal straight flush with the Queen and not the King.[/B] The commander halted himself in the middle of his grand finale of gall spewing and hissed at Craig for interrupting with what he could only make out as nonsensical slurring. - Shut your trap soldier Lands. This isn't one of your drunken card games where you can fuck off and be a retard. You're on a mission and nothing less than an ace recovery of that bitch is going to win you any chips in my book. You got that? (- [I]I'm really sorry, Craig.[/I]) - [B].... Me too.[/B] He pressed the key, shut down his terminal and pushed himself away from the station. - What did you just do? Now you listen to me, Lands, and I mean listen good. Insubordinance is not tolerated on my ship and there's no way in hell I'll allow a fuckwit like you to ruin this mission, do you hear me? So get back to your station and open up that line. - [B]I folded my hand, sir. Once you fold you're out of the game.[/B] - You ... hah, you '[I]folded your hand[/I]', haha? What is [B]wrong [/B]with this crew?!! Humanity is at stake and everyone's acting like annoying little brats on some bloody temper tantrum! You over there, get your fat ass out of that chair and get me an open line. Move it! Lands is [I]excused [/I]from his duties and can rest assured he will be dealt with [I]thoroughly [/I]later. Ok, let's see what we can salvage here people. Craig scrambled slowly to his feet and walked over to the chair she lay in. He leant down and stroked her warm cheek, whispering softly. - [B]I [I]did [/I]promise to deal you a sweet card. It was a fair beat down you handed my ass back there after all. I just hope you got the hand you wanted... [/B]

Ah, thanks for clearing that up for me. The medicine part really makes sense now *sagely nod* Hehe, I was kind of hoping for some weird twist in the Sally case. Moving on >>[quote name='Shinmaru'] I'm pretty bad with pronouns, and I'm always at a loss as to how to refer to characters without getting really repetitive. I think that's really tough, honestly lol.[/quote]Dude, tell me about it. I really struggle too and that paragraph is pretty much how it looks before I tackle my notes. You're not alone *hugs* And just to hammer in the praise, every great writer has to go through the editorial process *cheesy wink and air kiss*

I think it was a good idea to show an alternative ending, if only to silence those who might've had issues with the other one. [I]Which I doubt anyone had[/I], brilliant as it was ^_^ The ending battle[s] added that extra bit of humour and made it stand out from the original. Good job!

[quote]Marion was a librarian. As far as librarians were concerned, Marion was very pretty. [U]She[/U] had short, dirty blonde hair and green eyes. [U]She[/U] almost always wore a lavender sweater that resembled a cloak, and a long, plain dress with a flowery pattern. [U]She[/U] also had reading glasses, but she rarely used those because she almost never had the opportunity to use them. [U]She[/U] always seemed to be busy with other things.[/quote]Why must you torture me so?! :animecry: Ehum, on a more serious note I appreciate how annoying that paragraph would be to re-structure without going about it the way you have, so let us slide this time *slides*[quote]She checked in as promptly and punctually as she could, but [U]she[/U] could not help it if she was late more often than not. [/quote]How about striking ^that^ she? _^_[quote]?I?ve heard your excuses before, Marion,? Ms. Hodge deadpanned. She stood glaring at Marion with her [U]arms crossed over her chest.[/U] Ms. Hodge was very short; standing at full height, she only reached up to Marion?s shoulders. Her heavily wrinkled face was set in a look of fury, which was at once both comical and frightening. [U]She tapped absently at the thick spectacles set on the bridge of her nose.[/U] Her right foot tapped along in rhythm.[/quote]Uhm, are her arms folded so high up that they can tap the glasses? It just confuses me the way it's written *blush*[quote]If Sally had known her real feelings on the matter, she most certainly would have been very offended.[/quote]Why would she have been offended? Enquiring minds want to know! :

Is it just me or did you sneak in that nuclear symbol-thingy into this piece? >> Anyway! I love the monochromatic style, especially since it's not angsty in any way. That probably stems from the fact that the guy is looking at the sheet music/writing a song, so his stance is one of focusing instead of broodily hunched over. It'd be nice to know some more specifics about how you made the image, if you used existing images and tweaked them or did everything from scratch, etc.