Lady Asphyxia

[color=darkred][size=1]*dies* Mnemolth, please. Stop your bagging and your 'I don't want to discourage you' big person voice, because you [i]know[/i] I'm going to whine it out of you anyway. -.- If you just tell me now, I can at [i]least[/i] save myself the time spent on nagging... *sigh* Anyway... [b]Ken:[/b] Eh. Thankies. ^-^ Although I've already said that several times... [b]Mitch:[/b] Of course I give myself enough. In private, before I show this to anyone or consider posting it anywhere. And once I have considered it, I start critiquing so I know what to expect from the people reading it, see? I stayed away from 'I' because I incorparated other people, which makes it easier. The ending was [i]crap[/i]. I had no idea how to end it, but I knew it needed to tie into the smells and whatever else I put in there [I can't even remember >.

[size=1][color=darkred][b]1.) What thoughts or words come to mind when someone says, "Church"[/b] School, or my sister. School, mainly because I go to a Catholic School, and we get religion shoved down our troats, and my sister because she's all Christiany [although, not Catholic]. [b]2.) Give two reasons why you don't go to church[/b] School, mainly. I don't like the way I [i]have[/i] to attend everything. It tends to dim ones enthuisiasm. The second reason would probably be my family. None of us [or the ones who live here, at least] are very into religion. [b]3.) What qualities do you think a church needs to be a "good" church?[/b] It needs to be an open church, the kind that accepts anything and everyone. The kind that's more into the new Testament than the Old. I don't know. One that will allow beliefs, whatever they are.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkred][b]Name:[/b] Edonae Che'lreti [b]Age:[/b]137 [b]Race:[/b] Elven [b]Weapons:[/b]Crossbow, and a small dagger for closer fighting. [img]http://otakuboards.com/attachment.php?s=&postid=366778[/img] [b]Bio:[/b] Edonae spent her childhood learning how to use weapons, and, being the only child, she learnt the Art of War well. Althought she found it awkward to explain why she had no spare time - her father was almost insane with his wish for her to be able to protect herself - she knew no other life, and accepted it with the grace of the ignorant. Later, when she was fully grown, she was shown another life, and she loved what she saw. Her father, finding out that she was no longer interested in training, became enraged and banned her from home - fatherly love indeed. She's now living in the trees - one of those insane quirks that she adopted when she saw the 'other world'. She's never learnt social manners, and doesn't talk very well. She tends to stutter, not knowing if what she's saying is acceptable or not. When she is excited, her speech is perfect, she worries too much about what she's saying. [b]Description:[/b]At 5'6, Edonae is quite tall for a female, and happily goes about any tasks set her. She's strong, with a wiry strength, and red hair with pale skin. She'll usually wear breeches with a long dress-like tunic over the top, which has a split up the side to allow movement.[/color][/size]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Mei [/i] [B]Yay...pointless information!^^ London Bridge isn't in london....its in Arizona now....Oo[/b][/quote] [color=darkred]*Changes her flight ticket*[/color] [quote][b]Violets are NOT [COLOR=blue]blue[/COLOR]...they are quite [COLOR=purple]purple[/COLOR][/b][/quote] [color=darkred]I never thought they were blue... o.O[/color] [quote][b]27% of U.S. male college students believe life is "a meaningless existential hell."[/b][/quote] [color=darkred]Wow...a person after my own heart...lol.[/color] [quote][b]Aztec emperor Montezuma had a nephew, Cuitlahac, whose name meant "plenty of excrement."[/b][/quote] [color=darkred]*Giggle* Well, that's a pretty crappy name... ^^" (Please don't hurt me for the bad pun...) [/color]

[color=darkred]I hold very coherant conversations, apparently. Mum keeps saying she's going to tape me one day, but I don't think it will come about... Anyway, it can get annoying, because when someone wakes me up [usually after I've asked them to the night before] I have it programmed into my system to reply with "Okay, Okay, I'm getting up", without actually waking up. >.

[color=darkred]Go to the darned school. Yes, there is always a possibility of losing your friends, but there's a greater possibility of losing your dreams if you don't. And then you'll grow to dislike your friends because they held you back. And you'll lose them anyway.[/color]

[color=darkred]I'm not subscribed to anything. Although, my friend did buy Dolly with my money today...does that count? Apart from that...erm...nothing. ^.^[/color]

[color=darkred]Whoa. I should stop accidentally skipping paragraphs. ^^" I confused myself and had to go back and read it all, but I understand now. Heh. I like the structure, and the background at the beginning really helps to develop the Father's character into a 3-Dimensional person. It makes you understand why the father acts that way, and I'm really impressed with the sober/non-sober differences in personalities. A lot of people think that if the person beats you, they're mean all the time, so I'm glad that you had that. All in all, I'd say well done.[/color]

[color=darkred]I wasn't...at least, I didn't mean to. If it was seen as a flame, then sorry. It was me trying to put my thoughts across logically. I accept Harry's point of view, and to some extent I agree wtih it. But to others I don't. *shrug*[/color]

[color=darkred]Well, this mght sound illogical, but I think that she dates the jerk because she knows what to expect - after all, being liked deeply is simply scary, and a person can deal with pain when its expected better than when it isn't. Opportunity and skill are all that matters in the work place. If you aren't heading somewhere, then just ignore it and go backwards - its more fun. [Answering my view on the quesitons] If you take away your expectations of self, you have nothing to strive for. If you have nothing to strive for, you may be happy, but its a vague happiness, and nothing compared to that when you actually achieve your goal. Which is why people set goals in the first place.Anyway, you've already said that, or a few words to that effect... Life will always have miserable parts in it, because [In my opinion] if you don't have the miserable times, then the happy times seem less happy. You have to have a balance between the two. A ratio. If you misery ratio goes down, then so must your happiness ratio, in the long run. You might live and love life, but you can still die with a frown. I understand your point, but I don't find it possible to see in the big scheme of things. I am the center of my universe, and if something happens to rock the boat, then I'm not going to laugh at it. Chances are, I'll cry a lot, then get over it. We're taught that all things should be fair from childhood - how exactly does one let go of a principal that's so deeply ingrained?[/color]

[color=darkred]To be honest, it's a little short. There's no actual point, and the brackets would probably be better served if, instead of using them, you explained in sentences. Try adding some description, and more of a point. It could be all right, but as it is... Sorry if I seem harsh >.

[size=1][color=darkred]A story I had to do for an essay competition. Personally, I don't think it's very good, and definately not as good as Perfection. Actually, to me, this seems really corny and trite, but, as always, tell me what you think... Anyway, the topic I chose was "My dream and where it takes me." [Edit - Oh, and P.S. I'm taking this down after a couple of days, because Mum says I'm a silly bint because I put this up here after entering it in a competition, so, just to appease the parentals...yeah. So feel free to PM me afterwards to actually see the story if you want it that bad o.O] ~~~ [b]Fragrant Dreams[/b] I?ve always loved the smell of the ocean. The sight of the deep mass of blue and green beauty has never overly affected me, nor has the sand between my toes. But I cherish the smell. It is distinct, the wax of surfboards mingling with the crisp scent of deep fried fish and chips. On a windy day, the flow of air will bring the salty tang of the sea to a person?s nostrils from almost a mile away. My grandparents? house was a ten-minute walk from the beach. It was downhill the entire way, and as a child, I remember skipping in my anticipation. There was always a touch of adrenaline in the skipping; too fast, and I?d topple like a sandcastle being hit by a wave. I?d play in the sand and the surf with the gaiety and glee of the young, stopping only when dusk arrived. We?d collect fish and chips for dinner, and start the exhausting trek up the hill. After my grandparents died, we sold their house. The location alone gave it a huge value, and the last I heard, the people who bought it were renovating the house. My mother admitted to me that ?renovating? was a loose term. She really meant ?knocking it down and starting over?. It was then I decided that I wanted to buy back my grandparents? land. It?s been four years since I made my decision, and I am glad to say that I am now 356 dollars 72 cents, and two jobs closer to my dream. My mother ? and, I like to think, my dream - has rewarded my tenacity with a trip to ?our? beach. It takes us several hours to arrive. By that time, my legs are cramping from the close conditions of the car. Mum and I talk animatedly, discussing everything from flowers to her university course. The car pulls to a stop in front of the Surf Club. I clamber out in a particularly ungraceful movement, and dance around ? barefoot ? on the hot pavement. I?d already changed into my bathing suit at the last stop we?d made. Mum, laughing, climbs out of the car at a slower pace, throwing my shoes at me. I catch them clumsily, trying not to burn my feet in that instant of inactivity. We make our way down to the fish and chip shop. I gasp as I see the changes in the scenery. Where the beach used to be a chocolate and vanilla swirl, all the sand has been replaced with rocks. There are fences all over, restricting access. The fish and chip shop is almost the same. There?s a new coat of pink paint, and the awnings are a different colour. Otherwise, it?s really the only thing about this beach that has stayed the same. Mum and I walk into the fish shop, looking around and picking out the discrepancies between our memories and reality. The owner bustles out, wiping her hands on the tea towel. She sees us and her face breaks into a smile; apparently she remembers us. We chat for a while, reminiscing about the ?good old days?. I find it funny that I?m already acting like this at the age of fourteen. I can see myself at 70, munching on Tapioca Pudding and rocking in my chair, staring out at the clothes line and the dying grass, mumbling to myself about ?them good old days?. The image is a funny one, and I laugh as my companions stare at me in bewilderment. I shake my head and order an ice cream, dismissing the image. My sense of humor is an odd one, and I doubt that anyone else would find the image funny. Trudy ? the owner ? decides to take a break and join us. Mum informs me that she and Trudy went to High School together. It seems like this day will be one stumble after another in the street called Memory Lane. Mum, Trudy and I walk down to the beach, talking and laughing together. We lay out the rugs and set up a beach umbrella Trudy had brought from the shop. Mum and Trudy sit down; I strip to my bathing suit and run into the water, gladly splashing around. The water is lovely and refreshing. It?s a hot day, and I can feel the sun on my shoulders. I?m glad that I put sunscreen on. I do want this holiday to be memorable, but not by getting burnt. I play some more, pretending I?m a dolphin. I ride the waves with all the skill of a four-month-old pup, but I don?t mind. When my mother calls me into the shore for something to eat, I realize that Trudy?s gone back to work. I wanted to say goodbye, but I suppose I can see her before we leave anyway. I sit down with Mum, and try to convince her to join me when I return to the water. She laughs and shakes her head. She likes the beach, not the water, she says. I?ve never understood her attitude, but I accept it none-the-less, and settle down with her. It?s lonely in the water when you?re by yourself. After a while, Mum sighs and stands up. It?s time to go home. I resist, and plead with her to let me stay for just a few more hours. ?It isn?t even dark yet,? I say. She looks at the sun, then at her watch. It is really only five o?clock, and I know how she?s always loved the sea at night. We stay, walking silently along the beach, stopping now and then to pick up shells. Many of them are broken; shattered by the pounding of the waves against the rocks. There is a slight sadness in the way the shells are covered with sand and ignored. My grandfather had always remarked on that. Apparently, Mum had been thinking about my grandfather too. There?s an enigmatic expression on her face, and she?s walking slowly, staring down at the ground almost blindly. I touch her shoulder to get her attention, smiling at her when she looks up. She smiles back at me ? weakly ? but I can empathise with her grief. Our family has always been close. Without talking, she grabs my hand and starts to hurry me along to a certain point in the beach. Despite the changes in the environment, I can see that she knows where she?s going, and I trail after her. All of a sudden, she stops, turns around, and looks towards the east. I follow her gaze and smile. Although their house had been knocked down, and there were drastic changes in the landscaping, I could still see where my grandparents? house had been. My resolve strengthened further. All of a sudden, my mother started giggling, her face no longer gloomy. I joined in with her, and minutes later, we were rolling on the rocky and uncomfortable ? although beautiful ? beach, in gales of unexplainable laughter, holding our stomachs. We take a while to calm down, and lie on the beach, staring up at the rapidly disappearing daylight. There is a strange calm in me, and I know that it doesn?t matter where my dream takes me, I will still reach it. Mum watches the sunlight fade, the last glistening drops of heat shimmering on the water, then turns her head to face me. Her voice is quiet, sincere, and she has a smile in her voice. ?I know how much you want to get the land back, Kathryn, and as long as I?m alive, I will help you. I can?t help you much yet, but for the moment, would you settle for an elegant fish and chips dinner for two?? I nod, then, realising that she can?t see me well in the current light, answer with a ?Yes.? We walk along silently. We are closer than we ever have been ? companions, Mother and daughter, and most of all, friends. The rocks are hard on my feet, and as we stroll, something sharp cut into my feet. I shriek in pain and sit on a nearby rock, peering into the darkness for the source of my agony. Mum is hovering concernedly, and I reassure her that it isn?t a bad cut. But I still want to know why I had cut my foot. I saw it a second later. A sharp edge, barely sticking out of the sand. I pull on it, careful not to cut my fingers. It?s deeply imbedded in the ground. I tug once more and it slides out. I recognize the shape, and I grin, then start to laugh. ?What is it?? ?A shell,? I reply, realising that the memories and the smells of the ocean could be captured in this beautiful object. ?A perfect shell.? [/size][/color]

[color=darkred]Well, actually, there's already a song like this [url=http://otakuboards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20720]here[/url], with added verses. As for that part of the song, it doesn't seem to have the right rhyme pattern, and bomb is repeated too much...[/color]

[color=darkred]Leaning back, Adaline studied the notes on the computer. She nodded, happy with her choices. The man behind her sighed with relief. "Are those all the people we'll need? Anyone else?" She checked the list. "That's all. Let's just hope that they can get here in time. If it is a rogue, which it sure sounds like, then they're gonna need some help. Besides, people are doing things..." Adaline frowned as she realised that her mother was at her apartment. The security system had given Adaline a camera she could wear in her eye - much like a contact lense. He mother was puttering around, grinning with contentment. She looked like that cat that had gotten the cream. Which meant that she had something to say - something Adaline wouldn't like. "You know what," Adaline anounced, startling the man. "I think I'll go now, just to have a look around. After all, I'll be able to keep contact, if only minimally." The man had no idea what to do except nod. She smiled at him, then moved foward and away, equipment managers scurrying after him. ~~~ [i]Craft is in start up mode.[/i] The letters flashed across the screen, and the man grinned. A voice behind him intoned "Soon. Always sooner."[/color]

[color=darkred]The trio moved on, turning their back on Jenna. She wouldn't - couldn't - touch them here. Blair, in his direct - albeit nonchalant way - walked over to where the girls were standing. He looked them up and down in a slightly smarmy way, before dismissing Rae and turning to Siren and Jaudiar. "Ladies," he grinned, "Aren't we looking lovely tonight. I'm sure I don't have to remind you who I want taken care of tongiht, but, just for my piece of mind..." he turned and gestured to a balding man with a slight pot belly. "Yes, Blair," Jaudiar sighed. "We know. Any particular way he wants to die?" "Sorry, Blair," Siren butted in. "I have a trademark death card up my sleeve, and I'm not abandoning it." Blair looked so disappointed that Rae had to laugh. The girls walked over to the man, Jaudiar doing her best -and most effective - come hither glance. He walked towards them with a cynical, appraising and slightly bemused expression, as if he knew it was his lucky day, but wasn't sure that it was for real. They grinned, each laughing at his astonishment. Siren crooked her finger, and they made their way outside. A few metres from the door, Jaudiar turned and whispered to the girls. "Is this far enough?" "I think so." The man, seeing their intent, tried to scream.[/color]

[color=darkred]Welcome to Otakuboards. This place is pretty good. We're all right with Newbies, although *whisper* keep away from Liam...he steals your freedom. Anyway, have fun here. We don't have many Kiwi's here, although Flash is well known for his country pride. ^.^[/color]

[color=darkred]I am a baby otter! [I've consulted a friend on this, so ha!] Playful, mischevious, but still cute and makes you smile. [/color]

[color=darkred]Like, oh my god, I hate those two faced posers! [Heh...first thing that came to mind, I just had to type it] I don't mind them at all. I mean, honestly, as if most of us aren't 'posers' in some way shape or form. Pretending to like the sweater our mum gave us for Christmas or something...[/color]

[color=darkred]Isn't it insane how that happens? I still get in as a childs ticket ^.^ Wait... :shifty: I am legally a child... Anyway, as most of my friends have heard me complain, I've stopped growing completely. Well, not completely. A centimetre in two years...[/color]

[color=darkred]Abortion can really destroy a girl. Many sink into depression if they have an abortion, and they're racked with guilt. Most of them regret it for the rest of their lives. If she doesn't want the baby, give it up for adoption.At least that way, she won't have the guilt...to such a degree. [/color]

[color=darkred]*Cries* Oh, my little baby is getting so old! ;_; Ahem. Yes. Well, I've been on here since around June or July 2002, and originally I didn't post much, because I had no idea what I was doing. I sort of noticed that there wasn't a lot like a chat room [Thank God!] in terms of spelling or grammar. I also noticed that there were older people here, and that the topics were quite good, not just "Scratchies Winnings" or whatnot. I'd say that as time goes on, the people mature. Eventually, some of the more mature leave, but as a whole, there are a lot here. And they set an example for younger members, and the younger members are encouraged to be more mature. I haven't really noticed the increasing maturity, but there are more delicate topics around now, from what I can see...the kind of things that people wouldn't have handled well in the beginning of OB's life.[/color]

[color=darkred]Actually, just before I sleep, I got all upset for no reason. And I come up with really wierd schemes that just wouldn't work if I were fully awake. Then in the morning I can't really get going until I've had breakfast, but I'm not upset.[/color]

[color=darkred]I get less, because all my inspiriation comes from real life. If I'm not expiriencing real life, then I can't write about it, can I? Besides which, as Rikku said, I'm usually sleeping if I'm home sick...[/color]

[color=darkred]I do the same thing...only I switch from foot to foot. And then I stick my other foot up on this benchy thingy underneath our desk. It's really uncomfortably lately, though, because mum's put this big box there >.

[color=darkred]Well, first of all, you get the image hosted somewhere, then use the [img] [Website, etc.] [ /img] tags. Without the space. That'll give you the image. [size=1]By the way, this should really be in the Suggestion and Feedback Forum.[/size][/color]