My tastes have not changed so much as how I perceive it. For one thing, I think it's unfair when somebody has ultimately decided "I will not join this RP, because it is based off a pre-existing idea, and there is absolutely no way its creator can bring something new to the table." The whole idea that KH-related Fanfics and RPs are somewhat passe on a KH-vids? I've never been able to grasp that. I used to think, as an actor, I will only pick good shows, and they will be good the first time I read through them. The reality is, that if you work on something long enough and, at it's core, it's enjoyable, then the idea will grow on you. When it comes to somewhat inexperienced Roleplayers, I would like to join just in sheer contemplation of something so terribly simple that I can just play my part without really stressing what I'll do next. I think of the Arena the same way one would think of a stage. We are actors portraying different characters, but that does not mean we cannot and shouldn't do a fan-based RP every now and again. In fact, as experienced as many are and the different qualities each particular individual possess, I would like to see a more advanced version of one of those fun little ideas I fell in love with as a younger teen. I play a mean Luxord, because of my own vocabulary and understanding of the character. I suppose that's where the charm has lost its appeal: we have lost an understanding with the characters we did not write. To me, it is just as difficult and just as rewarding to create a good character as it is to portray an existing one accurately. There should be no stigma associated with the matter, which I find is all too common among the KHV population. Also, as much as I enjoy the survival RPs, I would not say that is the only way to do something where there is character development. There is, in most active original RPs that I have seen, not a mere possibility of a characters death, but it is basically guaranteed. The imminent death is as concrete as any stringent backbone of a franchise that has fans. It's a current fad, and a rather interesting and entertaining one, and I really hope it doesn't wind up like the fan-based RPs; overdone and cast aside.
[/url] It swept in again. All the little imperfections in her head that produced all that self-doubt that existed before in her life. Kyla wasn’t sure if she wasn’t getting better after all, or maybe she was just naturally doubtful. Either way, she was exasperated to the point of exhaustion even though she had only woken up 45 minutes before sitting beside Elton while giant chickens dodged around her feet; nothing was unusual until she looked to her left to find Elton. That same moment was the same moment she swore she could feel her soul leave her dream-manifested body. ‘Get it together! Just a person.’ Kyla reassured herself before she gave off any air of actual surprise. ‘A male person. You’re getting better though, right?’ Kyla toyed with the silverware before speaking. There had to be something to say. There had to be anything to say. “Have you met the little girl with the bear? It’s a shame she’s here, since she seems so innocent and young.” Those would have been lovely choice words, but only if she had actually said them rather than the unintelligible mess of syllables that had barely escaped her lips. The only distinguishable utterance was “And young”, but for want of a “D” in “And”; so, it came out “Anyoung”. Her fork clanged with her knife once and her unmade hair, in the shambles it was in, was tussled as she bowed her head to avoid eye contact. OOC: Pun Dictionary: According to my sources, a form of greeting in the Korean tongue is “Annyeong”. Ergo, Kyla has unwittingly spoken a different language from her own to a person who just so happens to speak said language.
Username: Sebax Character Name: Luc-Vincent Age: 18 Personality: Callous, apathetic, hard to control, militant Man-of-Action. Country of Origin: France Appearance: ♂ Likes: Good food; Rewards; Paintings and Architecture Dislikes: Questions that are not answerable by gesture; Close ties Strengths: Powerful legs for kickboxing and running; expert in lancing, pistol-shooting, demolition and driving. Weaknesses: Lack of communication skills; Selfish Sexual Preference: Straight, but lacks urges Other: Selectively Mute. General populace only knows him by his first name and reputation only, as the only words he will audibly say are "Luc-Vincent".
Paralysis that had before restrained him finally released its firm grip upon Base. "Let's see how you like it!" The mage cried out as a lightning bolt was cast upon the demonic avian without so much as a word of "Thunder". Base simply rose his Keylbade into the air with a heavy thrust and let the extent of his magical power crash down on the beast. The bolt went snicker snack upon the monsters face. The foe was one to behold, with jaws that bite and claws that catch.
Body positivism can be regional. For instance, over here in the United States, it is becoming more and more acceptable to be any degree of what BMI would register as "Overweight". There's nothing really wrong with that until the point health problems arise, as they can with a person who is any degree of "Underweight". For most of my life, I have been severely Underweight, and in America, that problem is perceived twice-fold; I have had to deal with a lot of bullying. It's more about wanting to not be weak and not be healthy that I started weight training (I hate sports...Not the general idea, just taking part) in order to achieve a body I could be positive about. I still get told I'm skinny, but I'm the right weight for my frame and bone density and I'm not exactly ashamed to take my shirt off thanks to struggling with Benchpresses and Pushups that I could never do throughout most of my early teen years. Body positivism comes in varying degrees and has a variety of results. Admittedly, sometimes Body Positivism it can be just straight up delusional, like if I were to say that I'm heavily muscled because there's not that much fat on my body. The best thing I can say is: If you are comfortable with your body and you're not risking your health by any means, than this is Positive Body Positivism. If you are risking your health just to be able to feel good when you look in the mirror, then this is Negative Body Positivism. A lot of people have trouble between the blurry line of "I don't care what society thinks of me!" and "Maybe I shouldn't weigh 500 lbs. at 5'0"..." or something like that. I'm all for Body positivism, but with a realist point-of-view. I do not give a flying Heartless about what society deems as appropriate, but I also don't commend eating or starving yourself into an early grave. To me, Body Positivism deals mostly in the realm of what is healthy for yourself.
OOC: It is suggested to read the post first and then watch the video. Kyla was just listening to a conversation involving pool and was intent on watching a game, when she felt, all at once, a light thump on her foot and the stroke of what felt like wool across her calf. She looked down to discover a teddy bear had fallen at her feet. She remembered a time when she had very few friends of the child sort, due to her fits and odd way of reacting to music, and resorted to very happy days spent having tea with a plentitude of stuffed animals. Eventually, she had grown up and inanimate objects became pitiful substitutes to the human company she just couldn’t stand to be around. What intrigued her was exactly how the bear came to her feet. "Um..sorry about Mr Bear bumping into you..Mr Bear is usually very still, and quiet and..and he doesn't usually move by himself at all. Kyla raised a thin black eyebrow towards the small girl. The girl was strange to her, but she did not feel endangered. It was not the fact the girl was a child that her alarms didn’t go off; she was often most afraid of children, as that was the stage of her own life where she’d felt most rejected by her peers who could not understand her. “It’s alright.” She found the words had escaped her mouth without her thinking about them. She had to catch up to what she said for a moment, but it only took a moment to arise at the fact no actual harm had been done. Wait… that voice… She looked down to that bear and scooped him up gingerly in one hand to offer to Samantha. She was sure this was the girl from Saint Rose… the pitiable voice. “Mr. Bear, right? He’s yours, right?” She asked kindly. “Would you and Mr. Bear like to hear some music?” She had heard the maids and their talk of dinner. “I’m sure no one will mind if we’re just a little late.” "Um..sure..I guess so." “When I was about your size, my Grandmother taught me to play the piano. I’ve wanted to go to the Music room since the Butler showed it to us, but I’d rather not go alone.” Kyla explained her reasoning, because she felt the need to; she was unaccustomed to speaking to others, after all. In fact, not wanting to be alone was new to her as well; she was all too happy to be alone almost all throughout her life. It did not take long to reach the piano room, as Kyla guided the youth behind her to the majestic instrument. “Do you know how to play?” "No..I've never had a piano" “I can teach you. Sit by me.” Kyla patted the leather stool upon which she sat. She was quite spare with thin hips, which left plenty of room for a nine year old frame to fit onto the rectangular pad. She lifted the wooden cover away from the keys and placed her fingertips at a rest like she had when she’d before had the freedom to do so. It struck her just then, and tears welled up in her eyes. This was the first moment she had been free in time immemorial; here at this piano, surrounded only by silence and the listening ear of a child, she was free from the world and horror she had known before. She quickly recomposed herself and explained the basics of the names of the notes, which led to keys. To concrete her brief lesson, she played the same melody twice, in two different keys. A#4, C#4, D#4, F4, F4, F4, G#4, G4, F4, D#4, F#4, F4, D#4, C#4, C4, F4, and she repeated the same sequence exactly, except she played a C4 rather than an F4 at the very end. Next, she played D#4, F#4, G#4, A#5, A#5, A#5, C#5, C5,A#5, G#4, B5, A#5, G#4,F#4, G#4, F#4, F4, A#5, like wise repeating the same sequence, but replaced the last note with a D#4 rather than an A#5. The ultimate curiosity of the lesson was that she recognized the melody, but had never played it before. She removed her hands from the keyboard and smiled down to Samantha. “Would you like to give it a try?” Maybe she would remember where she’d heard it if someone else played it, and Kyla was actually enjoying the ability to share a similar musical moment with someone else that she’d had with her grandmother so many years ago. OOC: Thanks to Dr_Wigglz for collaboration.
Professor Aspen looked back and frowned. She removed a ping pong-sized ball and clicked its button. A Zoroark appeared that towered over everyone like a grim monolith of fur and dark essence. “We will be going to the Dormitory across the way shortly. Please, try to stay with your Pokémon.” This disregard by sending the Mudkip off alone was foolish in Professor Aspen’s eyes. “Hito, please assist with the cans. And everyone, please stay together. The last thing we need is to be caught in the rai-” It started to rain. “Quickly, into the dormitory across the way. We want to make sure this is not the actual storm before we go anywhere.” Hito the Zoroark picked up what was left of the needed supplies and carried them effortlessly across the small space to the Dormitory South entrance. Following behind her Pokemon with a few cans in hand, Professor Aspen led the students towards the Dormitories. @@@@@ Meanwhile, on the Airstrip… The storm quickly rose in intensity as Victor and Victoria followed Mr. Briney and Zeke into the small concrete building by the flat top airstrip. “Listen, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot back on the plane, but it looks like we might be stuck here for a while.” The rage of precipitation and black really kicked up outside the glass portal above a desk full of radio communication devices. “You might want to see this.” Victoria gazed in awe as a small tide of pink approached the tiny building, pouring from the thick groves of jungle trees. Victor walked to the window, and joined his sister in disbelief as the pink tide split up and circled the entire building. “What’s going on here?” “Looks like Igglybuff. We’re close to grounds where Fairy-types breed.” Mr. Briney surmised as he looked out for himself. “Fairies typically breed in caves, so in small numbers… they’re rarer on mainlands than they are on PokAcademy island. Not sure what they are doing out in the open like this though…” Team White: The outer ring of the storm is starting on the campus. Follow Aspen and her Zoroark into the Dormitories. Team Black: Please, more activity. Airstrip: Anything goes right now. A swarm has hit the airstrip and it has started to really storm.
I know them feelz. I have his number too. Did I get any mention? Noooooo. EDIT: I don't mean to chastise Hector in any way. Like, Myst, initially, I did feel a little left out.
[/url] At last, he had waited so long for. Randall swirled for a moment in his black, custom-made swivel chair that kept his posture as firm as he needed to play online for hours without tiring; he wouldn’t allow himself to. Only moments before, and somewhere in the course of his 22 hour waking period, Randall had at last received his copy of “Etiam”. It was important to him not just because of the promises made by the developers, but because it was the singular game that he could not use his influence to get him Beta access prior to the release; not even him. He was all too comfy in his room, which was the extent of his world. His was a richly furnished room where everything from the small couch to the expensive refrigerator in the corner was either some shade of gray or black. The only coloration and the only light was combined in one as the blocky wires of red light that was built into the walls to enforce the technological identity of its contents. Everything was expensive in Randall “Rand” Royale’s possession, as he intended to live as lavishly as he pleased and could afford in his comfy upscale Programming job, but the most expensive and the most lavish of all things in the room was definitely the sizable computer that was ergonomically designed to be the center of the room; he could access it easily at any given moment from anywhere in the small room. The High Definition screen hung firmly in space on a black metallic arm that came from the ceiling and sat at an angle which Randall had worked through for hours before finally being content. He was a perfectionist and everything had to be perfect. Which was why he slowly removed the plastic wrapping that encased his own copy of the long-anticipated “Etiam”, and he took a lengthy whiff of what he considered the scent of a new game. Many things irked him of course, such as the fact that he was as much a Noob to “Etiam” as any of the Plebeians on the outside and what was worse: many of those Noobs he was joining would be populated with Console Vermin. No, this moment had to be perfect and free from fettered thought. Randall twitched away his agitation before slowly, sensually, and ceremoniously placing the disc perfectly into the CD port of his precious PC. The machine blinked silently to life, causing Randall to crack a smile. “Like the taste?” He asked to the machine. “Start Game.” His tone was distinct and his pronunciation was perfect as he gave the command. Within mere moments, it all started before his hungry eyes. Beautiful music that was fast-paced, and toyed with his surmounting ego; this was his new anthem. The introduction video started automatically with graphics such as Randall had never seen. Used to the paramount of technological advances, even he was impressed by the lizard-men traveling the seas on a ship, winged warriors flying through the skies before descending into battle against ogre-like men in a forest, massive figures casting magic against machines in the Arctic, different machines plugging themselves into buildings in a city, and more instances of the world's races; races of people he was intent to rule over… Eventually, he would rule them, anyway. As the music slowed down, becoming tenser, Randall cocked a black, thin eyebrow as a cloaked figure approached a human man in a suit. The figure's eyes shone with the same brilliance that cast light in his lair and a twisted smile inspired Randall down to his core, but the rest of the face was opaque and hidden from sight. The next scene showed the Animi, which Randall had learned of extensively through a unhealthy amount of time spent studying everything he could learn, running in fear from an enormous shadow as their city fell around them; either he would become or rule such a phantom fog of shaded darkness. The music started to fade and there was not a sound within his enclosure; he barely breathed within that captivating moment. He heard a voice he quickly favored the sound of. "Hello, young soul." Well. The Middle-Aged Plebeians wouldn’t like the sound of that. That is, unless they considered themselves “Young at Heart”; foolish humanistic concepts to a genius at Randall Royale’s level. He really did like that voice though. Hollow and intellectual, which was what his own sounded like; there was serenity to this other voice though. Randall scoffed to himself. He knew already the sort of character this voice was to be: two-sided. Randall could communicate with others and get them to do his bidding, but why hide dominance in a soothing veil for the weaker? "You are being reborn into a new world...the world of Etiam. It is a world in mayhem, but you are fearless. Why are you fearless? Because you are born from the souls of the saviors of Etiam. Are you confused? No worry; all shall be revealed soon. However, before your new birth, I suggest you tell me about yourself -about the current soul that you think you are." This both pleased and displeased him. He was fearless because he didn’t have all those horrid little mortalities everyone in the unruly outside world had, save for the fact he needed sustenance and he was well aware of the fact he personally had to die and there wasn’t a respawning point on Earth; he was working on life extension, but that was more of a personal, side project with limited success. He was very eager to talk about himself. He put in his age of 20 and Upload a picture that displayed his wealth rather than his actually personage (He wanted people to know he had power, and they would see the shadow of him, but he did not want them to see his face). He tried to block the concept he had to actually input his console before he pressed “Confirm”. So many inferior options nearly enraged him if it wasn’t for the calm of his solitude. "Hmm. How strange. Your world is so different from mine...You'll see soon enough. Now, it is time to meet your compatriots; new souls just like yourself!" Username: Render. His aim was to make a name no one could ever forget. He chuckled to himself, which would sound strangely similar to a cackle to anyone else; if anyone else was listening. Those poor losers would be going about their normal, boring lives and then it would pop into their heads “Render”. He would invade their personal lives on a level no hacking could; he’d hack their feeble minds. He only stopped his contemplation when prompted by the sudden appearance of yet obligatory Skeleton in a video game… or at least, at least this one was interesting. Actually, Randall quickly turned to enjoy the design of an otherwise banal apparition; whatever the Skeleton had been was not human, that was for sure. Perhaps a Demon? Randall tried not to taint the newfound enjoyment by introducing the thought of the likewise obligatory Demon in a Video Game. "You will be a part of this world," the skeleton spoke, its lipless mouth matching the syllables perfectly, "But I am not. I am merely an Outsider. An Outsider Looking In." The letters "OLI" appeared over the skeleton in red. "An outsider...and your teacher. I will grant you form in this new world...but only if you are ready. Are you ready?" “Yes” or “No” rendered above “Render”. A smile as twisted as the cloaked figure’s cracked onto Randall Royale’s features as he quickly clicked “Yes”. [/url] Paine Rafe shut off the rest of the world through sound. Marche Funébre was coaxed out of the many finely tuned strings of her beloved Baby Grand piano by her own trained, springy fingertips. Well, rather her father’s Baby Grand, as her father was an influential film composer who rarely had time to give the instrument any time. Paine could relate to a piano far more than she could to anyone else, because the other was all whom ever paid either any mind. Widower Drake Rafe was rich, yes, and so was his daughter, but there was quite a surplus of empty space to their otherwise comfy home. She had been playing for somewhere around 9 minutes, and Chopin’s Sonata No. 2 segment was drawing to a close as Paine made the instrument softly release the last few notes that existed in her memory; the place where composition sheets usually sat was empty, to be filled when Pained felt like composing, or if she found a new work to chew through. However, so extensive was her memory of various songs from classical to popular that she barely ever found a piece she couldn’t find simply by ear anymore. All she had was music… and a PS3 with very few games. She selected her games purely for the musical aspect. She didn’t really care about systems or graphics, but would spend countless hours looking for any info on what she considered the most underrated and least valued aspect of most video games: The story, the Music, and how they clicked together. With the thought on her mind, she played “Dearly Beloved” as she thought. Even the most pointless game in her opinion, Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2, was salvaged by its formulated, tactically charged themes and she spent much more time committing several traffic laws in GTA V than she did firing anything, because the freedom to race with the music was spectacular. Did it surprise her when there was an entire article dedicated to the soundtrack of the upcoming game “Etiam”? It did surprise her, because she was so used to scouring for that single paragraph or sentence: “The music in the game is good too”. What was even better was: Her game was arriving that very day, and she picked it up from her sunny Californian doorstep no less than 3 minutes following the closing note of “Dearly Beloved”. She took the game up to her room and jumped back into her cozy Queen-sized bed adorned with purple sheets with her PS3 controller in hand. Etiam was docked in the machine and the User Selection screen was visible, but Paine had to check her phone before immersion into the world of Etiam. Much like her phone case, much of her room was centered on a generally passionately purple, Gothic theme. She checked her Instagram account. Other people posted food; she posted memes and quotes about and from musicians everyone to no one knew about; mostly, people knew the name “Coldplay” much better than “Igor Stravinsky”. She did post personal pics, true, but where most girls of her age and enviable figure either posed half-naked or nude, she posted pictures of herself at an instrument. Sometimes the comments would be about what she was playing or it was a bawdy comment that made her want to drop her phone because she could almost feel the drool of the user who sent it coating it. Usually, she just continued to scan through. This time she actually dropped it from sheer fright and revulsion. “@PAINRA Heyyyyy PaiPai! Wait til every1 knows ur account! Y U No tells ppl @ skool about ur account?!?! CYA, PaiPai! MWA! <3” by user Viandra267 made her want to lash out in an unforgiving rage. A line of privacy had been crossed. She could just block all 600 of the classmates sure to get her account name by tomorrow. 41% of them ridiculed her daily while the rest either fell at her feet or actually respected her for her musical abilities. She’d be deleting her Instagram account later, but, for the moment, she needed to escape. She picked “Paine” from the list including only the icons “Turn Off System” and “Paine” and she motioned over to the game selection screen. She went down to the disc option and heard it for the first time: the music of Etiam. She let it soak into her veins before she recalled it was only a snippet in an endless loop; she had to click “X” to hear it all. The Opening Cinematic was visually impressive, but she hardly saw any of it since her eyes were closed and her fingers were intricately “conducting” the new music. It was beautiful. She only noticed the cinematic was over when the silence crept in and she looked at her screen. “Oh…” She murmured in her embarrassment. "Hello, young soul." Surround sound did not do her nerves any favors as the cold voice entered her presence from every crevice of her solemnity. She was not irrational though, so she quickly realized the voice had come from the game, despite the blackness of the screen. "You are being reborn into a new world...the world of Etiam. It is a world in mayhem, but you are fearless. Why are you fearless? Because you are born from the souls of the saviors of Etiam. Are you confused? No worry; all shall be revealed soon. However, before your new birth, I suggest you tell me about yourself -about the current soul that you think you are." “PAINRA” had originally been her go to username (‘Oh no, that’s right… I have to delete my Tumblr now too…’), but recent developments had put a stopper in that concept. Everyone would be playing this game. “PARA-79”. She chose, justified, and memorized the number by the fact that her mother had been born in 1979, and, despite Brenda Thisbee Rafe passing in 2010, a sturdy Mother/Daughter relationship had been built up over the course of 12 years; almost a full 13 years. 1997-2010 was a big distance for a tiny dash to traverse, after all. She put in her age. It was funny to be 18. 18 was how old Brenda Thisbee had been when captivated by the genius and spirit of a penniless guitarist by the name of Drake Rafe who was touring in a band called “Drifting Snakes” from Norwood, New York. 18 was when Paine suddenly entered the picture. All in the same year and Paine had gotten her name from the mutual agreement they would live with a beautiful Paine in their hearts to combat the harsh pain that lived there in poverty. So far, it was late enough in the year for Paine to think “How did she do it?” in the back of her head as she pressed “Confirm”. A return of the same screen as before prompted her out of LaLa land as she noticed, via a red asterisk by a blank box, that she’d neglected to select her system. “PS3”; “Confirm”… Success. "Hmm. How strange. Your world is so different from mine...You'll see soon enough. Now, it is time to meet your compatriots; new souls just like yourself!" Curiously enough, a purple sphere appeared on her screen with the text “PARA-79” above it. She saw other spheres like hers, but her head couldn’t wrap around the color of hers. Had she put in some choice for an option somewhere as to what her favorite color was? She didn’t dwell on it. She saw names above those other spheres and summarized she was already amongst human company, but didn’t hear anything that resembled a human voice until that dark voice returned. "You will be a part of this world," the skeleton spoke, its lipless mouth matching the syllables perfectly, "But I am not. I am merely an Outsider. An Outsider Looking In." The letters "OLI" appeared over the skeleton in red. "An outsider...and your teacher. I will grant you form in this new world...but only if you are ready. Are you ready?" She moved the cursor over to the “Yes” that appeared above her name. ‘As I’ll ever be…’ She was starting to wonder if the score would be worth the nerves she was getting.
C'est mon Collage. Spoiler: Collage Guide To the left, we have more classical art. Favorite voice of a bygone era of Music: Luciano Pavorotti (Even though he only died back in 2005); Favorite Classical Composer: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (If you want to know my favorite composition, look no further than my very first post as Kyla); Favorite Artist: Pablo Ruiz Picasso; Favorite All-Time Writer: Edgar Allan Poe; Favorite book of All-Time not by Favorite Author: "Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley. In the Upper-Middle Left, where my name is, is my favorite Pokemon. Why? It's pretty obvious I like Pokemon, because I constantly mention it, hehehe, but I put my name there because of the RP I run; I identify with it right now, and I didn't want that spot blank. Vulpix, because I've always a small spot for that little one... Fire-type, a Fox, and dose eyes. Originally, I was going to put a KH logo there, but c'mon... it's pretty obvious I like KH or I probably wouldn't be here; it is possible to be a member though and not like KH though. Middle, below, same basics. Stage and a Mic. Possibilities. They are my home as well as any paper. Upper-Middle Right, Pop culture favorites. Favorite Disney Movie and Favorite Disney Villain: "Lilo & Stitch" and Scar, from "The Lion King" respectively; Favorite TV show: "Castle" on ABC, represented by the lead characters, Detective Kate Beckett (Stana Katic) and Richard Castle (Nathan Fillion); Favorite Guilty Pleasure Adult Entertainment Cartoon show: "Family Guy"; Favorite Broadway Play: "Phantom of the Opera". Whole right section looks like a Teenage girl compiled it for the most part, but these are men whom have shaped my understanding of Acting, Comedy, and Singing the most. Forgot to put Gene Kelly and Tim Allen in there... Oh well; no room anyway. They are (Including the aforementioned), for the most part, some of the bigger examples of why I do what I do. Not for them, but indirectly because of what they have brought to the world. They are my favorite performers, speaking as a performer. Top row (From left to right): Adam Sandler, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Robin Williams; Middle row (Left to right): Heath Ledger, Dean Martin, Gerard Butler; Bottom row (Left to right): Jim Carey, Vincent Price, Robert Downey Jr. This is how I feel tonight/day Spoiler: How I Feel Guide Can't really say how I feel in the day. I usually feel sleepy, which is why my sleeping schedule is a little whacky. I feel tired and inspired by the darkness that surrounds me. The music is so much stronger when it is dark outside. The bearded little fellow is a caricature of me (Note: the Movember-induced beard) and he's a little ticked, but he's also feeling rather artistic and philosophical. The big Kangaroo head is my school's mascot, and I feel like College is becoming a big problem for me as well as being the center of my life right now. It's not particularly difficult, I have just been worrying about all the classes I've missed recently. To the left is a Pokeball. So far, my one coping mechanism and method of staying awake so I can now go to classes in the morning has been playing Black 2 that I purchased recently. Also, PokAcademy is one of my bigger creative outlets outside of CLC and KHSOS... PokAcademy is mine, so even though I so much to make through CLC and KHSOS, PA is closest to my heart. I included a moon and swirls of grey and lime green in the background to add to the fog of insomnia that couples with the euphoric sensation I currently feel.
[/url] Such a beautifully haunting sound: “Come, Little Children… I’ll take thee away…” It all seemed to flash by. Between finding herself where she was, surrounded by unfamiliar faces…-No. Some of them were barely familiar, but she had always been to paralyzed by fear to ever meet them face-to-face…- and the strange house she followed into, she wasn’t sure if it was real at all; hadn’t she been sleeping just before? She had chosen to go into the eerie house and listened inventively to Charles the Butler as he spoke. She did not listen because what he said intrigued her, but rather because she was being guided by a man and she did not perish at seeing him; or any of the other boys for that matter. Such was as she had never felt before, because such was the moment without even the threat of fear in the air. Also the basementand the atticare off limits, everything else is open and free to you. That sounded odd. She dared not speak, lest she lose the ability to stand once she uttered a single syllable in the midst of some many others. She was so used to not talking, she was almost certain she’d forgotten how to properly without speaking to nurses and old people. "You may do whatever you want. If you want to order me around, that's fine to. I am but a butler after all." “Why is the basement off limits? As well as the attic?” She asked less meekly than she ever thought she’d be capable of. She sounded so confident in her questioning that it scared even herself.
[/url] With her eyes shut tightly, Kyla accepted the wireless headphones. It felt great to hold them in her hand, because it gave her a sense that the next time she’d have a pair of headphones, and then she would be trusted as an adult not to hurt herself or others with it. She could have normal conversations with normal people and not feel the way she always felt. She hated the pill that she took, looking long enough to see the faces of her Grandparents sitting right beside her bed, Henry holding Kyla’s hand and Sylvia holding Henry’s hand in turn. “We love you.” Syvlia said with a tear in her eye. She didn’t want to scare Kyla with the worry it might be goodbye. No one in the family had ever been medicated so heavily; whatever happened was up in the air completely. “We do. Goodnight, Kyla.” Henry’s voice faded away as the only connection between sleep and consciousness faded away with the tune of “Never Say Never”; the good, soulful version that was The Fray’s. It felt appropriate to fall asleep to the song that was a healer among other songs to a music addict; it was her life’s song even though she found it so late, but it was the sound her heart made. She faded to black as a bitter taste clung to the roof of her mouth. Despite the oncoming nullification, Garnet hands stayed clasped; not letting go. Kyla shut her eyes again, and heard everything, not blocking anything out for the first time in her life. She heard the acceptance, "NOW LET US GO ON A MAGICAL JOURNEY IN WHICH WE SHALL SHARE LOVE AND PEACE AND-" She heard the immediate regret, "No wait I can't do this.... I can't. I want to go back to my room." And she heard the pitiable, "Nighty night Mr Bear, take care" For the first time in her life, she heard the human race as an orchestration of atonal music that sang of each and every pain and how it as dealt with; her last thought as she faded fully into slumber was solemn and a revolution for her: ‘The terrible really is… beautiful…’
[/url] This was it. She’d been more than upset when she heard that she’d been signed up to be sitting in a hospital gown, exposed so much to so many people, and wait for “Miracle” treatment, but she knew it was all on her. Kyla had tried and failed to conquer her fears, and this was her second chance. This was her second chance to be free of all her fears; she just had to bite it back long enough for the medication to take effect. She closed her eyes and tried to block out all those voices. “You’re going to be alright. Listen to Ms. Izanami.” Henry picked up Kyla’s bowed chin. He knew the woman was a Doctor, but he also knew his granddaughter; any mention of doctors would send her reeling out of the room. Kyla nodded and listened to each detail. She wanted to know because she was afraid of every detail, so she wanted something in there to bring her some kind of comfort that she hadn’t found yet. “Can I listen to music before I fall asleep?” She asked once Ms. Izanami asked for questions. Music. She just needed some relaxing music and she’d be able to drown everything out; the “Miracle” would probably be the first thing to actually be able to knock her out as opposed to all those other weak drugs that never worked. Actually, that was what scared her the most: what if, even though this was a super strong drug, it wouldn’t work? Would there be anything that would work? She didn’t want to think about it; it made her hyperventilate.
Admissions Office ● Lounge ● Dorms ● Information Desk When Cyprus walked into the Waiting room to be welcomed immediately by the heavy amping of guitars and the rhythmic screaming of a young woman over the PA system he sighed as he spotted Nurse Joy banging her head up and down to the beat of the heavy music. “My Heart stops; close all the shops; You left me hollow as a Dusclops! Guess that’s on you and your haunted soul; your haunted soul.” Nurse Joy had an excellent punk rock voice for the music, and the fact Avril jumped up on the counter to raise its arms and bang its own head in time with Nurse Joy hinted she liked the ambience as well. “I don’t really care what say, you just have your haunted soul, your haunted- Eek!” Nurse Joy squeaked and ducked behind the counter, bringing Avril down with her, the moment she spotted the Professor and students. The music was still going into the next verse as Cyprus walked over to shut it off from the PC. “I guess you have a haunter’s soul; you just have your haunted soul. You don’t give a shard at all, hey! That explains your lack of mooov-” The female lead singer was shut off as Professor Cyprus typed in the command, looking down at the not-so-hidden nurse below the counter. “That is twice.” He stated matter-of-factly as he looked the Nurse directly in the eyes, exasperated. “What are you doing back so soon?” Nurse Joy leapt up, holding Avril a little too tightly in her arms. The tightness of the grip was simply surmisable in the fact Avril did not seem to be comfortable with its tummy being forced further towards its spine. “I suppose this is why you didn’t pick up when Professor Aspen attempted to call you…” Professor Cyprus rubbed his temples. “Who?” Cyprus nearly keeled over at the question. “We are in the direct path of an oncoming violent storm. I need you to go down to the holding room and make sure all Pokémon have been sent properly to the storage bunker below the center.” “Right. How do you do that?” “I shall have to go with you, I suppose.” Professor Cyprus grumbled. His patience was wearing thin with the new nurse. “Students, in the meantime, ensure that the storm defense system has not been put out of commission because of tampering with the system. You’ll find the command on the main list of options on the main screen.” Professor Cyprus was already on his way down the hall for the holding room. “Nurse!” He called impatiently. Nurse Joy jumped and dropped Avril, who landed on the tile floor with a thud. “Right!” Nurse Joy quickly followed after, leaving the surrounding area to the students and Avril. All at once, a voice came over the PA system. “Stratana here. I am sending over Pokéballs for storage in the bunker. Over.” The transmission ended, and before anything else could be done, a bin on the counter just above the teleporter filled from the bottom up with Pokéballs. Twelve were in the container. @ @ @ @ @ "Zeke, not that it's any of your business" Victor was knocked a bit off kilter, but was not disheartened by the reply. Everything about Zeke’s actions noted shyness rather than rudeness, given the lack of direct eye contact; or so Victor figured. Meanwhile, Victoria was getting restless as the tension built up about the turbulence. Every bump was putting her further on edge, but she tried not to show it; she knew why Victor had come, but she wanted him to be there to enjoy himself and not to have to be her Watch Snubull. She also wanted her own independence, so she would hold herself together until they landed. “We’re having plenty of problems up here. We’re going to have to make an emergency landing.” Mr. Briney’s voice came out of a speaker above all the incoming students’ heads. ‘Good… Wait, what?!’ Victoria said inside her head, trying to repress her immediate urge to jump up through the cabin roof. Victoria looked outside cautiously and saw black storm clouds edging in around them and nothing but trees below them. She gulped before she saw the small patch of grey that was their upcoming landing strip. She dug her green nails into the polyester seat as the plane screeched to a stop in the middle of a small strip of pavement, with a small building nearby, in the middle of the jungle. “We’ve landed in the Greenhouse Jungle, and we’ll have to get inside the base before it starts to rain. Quickly, I have a feeling we’re in for a real doozy; otherwise, we’d still be in the air!” Mr. Briney said to the teenagers before opening the passenger hatch. Mr. Briney jumped out and brought a detachable staircase back for the others. “Quickly.” He persisted, before running back to the base as the rain began to trickle down on the pavement and roof of the plane. # # # # # POST FOR WHITE TEAM UNDER CONSTRUCTION! PARDON THE DUST! +Plusle: Team Black: The Pokéballs for your task have arrived. Check the Defense System according to the given instruction. -Minun: Anyone of Team White can chart the travel west to the Dining Hall. A new map has been uploaded to the Rp’s wikia to help give you a basic distance idea. Airstrip: Quick, into the base!
[/url] Professor Aspen waited until all the students were collectively gathered before she spoke. Her dominating gaze was merciless, but, at the same time, patient; and her tone was just as warmly cold in a louder setting as it was in conversation. “Greetings, students of PokAcademy; my name is Professor Asp, and I am the resident Meteorologist. I’m not going to bore you with titles, but for those who do not know: I study weather patterns. This means I can predict certain events, within my means, and I am stressing now that I would not be before you were you not in any actual danger.” To avoid any unease, she softened her tone. “The easiest way to avoid catastrophe is to take two measures: One is “Precaution” and the other is “Provisions”. Professor Cyprus, please align them by their types of Starters.” Professor Cyprus responded as he always did when it was positive; with a courteous nod. “Normal-types will side up with Grass-types on the left, with Fire-types in the middle, and Water-types on the right.” Professor Cyprus directed his students into ordered groups. Professor Asp surveyed them each. Between Grass-types and Normal-types, there was only one of each. There were only two Fire-types and there was twice as many Water-types as Fire-types. At this point, the decision was based more upon a division than how relevant the types were to the tasks. “Two Water-types are to go with the Grass-type and Normal-type; the rest with form a second group.” Since there were so many Water-types, and Water-types were typically of paramount importance during storm and flood situations, the decision seemed to be the most logical by her standards; and she was absolutely about logic, absolutely. She whipped out her navy blue Pokénav, and was already onto her next move. “… Gaston, it’s Asp. I am coming over with four students to pick-up supplies from your kitchen, as planned. Make sure you have six jugs of water and ten industrial-sized cans set aside for the pick-up. Thank you …” She looked to the group comprised of Alex, Diopside, Joshua, and Garett. “We shall be Team White and Professor Cyprus’ group shall be Team Black.” She indicated the individuals involved. As she stood side by side, her white lab coat with a navy blue blazer and grey capris stood out beside Cyprus’ black suit. “I have given Professor Cyprus the instructions already that will be necessary to make sure you are all safe within the Pokémon Center bunker when the storm actually does hit. It is of the utmost importance that we make no delay. Let us away.” She shot a gaze over towards Team White and started on her way west of the Fountain that trickled softly in the calm air. As she walked off, Professor Cyprus nodded to his own group. “It would appear that we are headed back for the Center, Topaz, Gray, Equitas, and Melody. The unfortunate thing about the Tropical climate out here, I’m afraid, is that seasons tend to have very fuzzy borders.” He noted before walking at his own pace back into the Pokémon Center. @ @ @ @ @ Meanwhile, up in the sky, towards the north of the Island… [/url] “Ahoy, we seem to be having some complications. Not to worry though; I’m certain we’ll be able to make the main campus shortly.” The pilot shot back to the passenger compartment of a luxurious, small airplane. The carpet in the middle aisle was red, as was most of the rest of the interior of the plane; the armrests and headrests were jet black. An aged man, with a white beard and richly tanned skin, alone piloted the craft used especially for new arrivals to the school. Mr. Briney was highly a trusted man-of-the-sea who never failed to get students safely to the PokAcademy campus, but a bit of unexpected turbulence was slightly rocking the “boat”. Besides the slight knock every now and again, Victor honestly didn’t mind the rocky flight. It felt exciting and lively to not really know what would happen next. Naturally though, he had great concern for the safety of his younger sister, Victoria. After all, the entire reason he was there, experiencing that riveting flight, was because his sister had won a full scholarship to PokAcademy and he intended to protect her so far from home. Granted, they both knew their fair shares about the proper care and raising of Pokémon, but Victoria was certainly the brains when it came to care; Victor was the strategist. This was odd, as it occurred to him, due to the fact that Victoria was more of a career trainer while Victor was more of a hobbyist. They both used the same family Pokémon, having none of their own, but even though Victor always won over Victoria personally, it was Victoria who really had the drive to be the trainer in the Premier family tree. Victor, 19, and Victoria, 16, sat side by side as brother and sister and it did not surprise Victor in the slightest that Victoria did not jump at every single bump the flying metal vehicle made; Premier veins were made of steel. Victor sighed. Other than the recent minimal turbulence, the flight had been almost completely silent. He was fully aware there was another probable student there with them and the pilot, but no effort had been made by either party to strike up conversation. Intent to start good relations, Victor gave a sign to Victoria that he was leaving from his aisle seat for another. Careful not to be knocked over, Victor made his way over to the other boy and sat near him in the aisle seat across from whoever he was. Victor offered his hand out and made eye contact with the boy. “Victor Premier, and you are?.” He said in a charismatic, evenly-toned voice. Check the Dorms for details on your missions. White Team: It’s best to work together as a team for these. Each player can only carry either ten cans or two jugs of water and only four blankets, depending on which you go for first. Check the newly provided map to get an idea of where you’re going to. Check in with Professor Asp after every completed task. Black Team: Remember, you can only carry six Pokéballs on you at any given time that contain Pokémon. These Pokéballs happen to contain Pokémon, and all you have at least two Pokémon. It takes one person to check the Defense system, which will cover all possible openings with fortified metal sheets. Teams: The purpose of the split up and objectives here is to give you opportunities to have to rely on each other’s character. Tell a story; don’t just get the job done and that’s it. Airplane: It’s clear flying for now. Chat.
[/url] Bon Jovi sang. "This ain't a song for the broken-hearted." ‘This song isn’t for me, but I like it…’ She replied to Jon internally. She heard a knock at her door. She immediately knew who it was simply by a signature pattern of the rapping. “Come in, Grandpa.” She said, lying relaxed in her bed, and she nodded her head to the music. “Just checking in again. Gramma and I are going to hang around for a few hours. The doctors say there’s progress.” He smiled. She frowned. “I know a lie when I hear one.” “Alright, you caught me. It’s not so impossible though, for you to overcome your fears. I remember a frightened little girl who hated clowns and running water.” He said this with kind resolve. “Two down, a million to go. And the meds don’t help any one of them.” “You didn’t need medication before. I remember exactly how you overcame them both. Do you?” His hands were shaking again and he felt uneasy. Henry took a seat in a nearby chair and held his hands, one in the other. “I do.” Her words were empty. She did remember, but she didn’t want to admit she was that strong early on, but couldn’t do a damn thing now against her rebelling mind. ‘How long before my brain turns to mush…’ “I faced them.” Henry barked with laughter. “That you did, Kyla. Oh, well, the sound your grandmother made when she found you, six years old, trying on make-up; you looked more like Bozo, though. You told us why. “I want to know why they do it” Is what you said. Your curiosity got the better of your repression.” “Kids are pretty curious creatures.” There was isolation in her words. She was no longer a child. “I think you still have that curiosity inside of you, Kyla.” The shakes were getting worse. He reached across and held her hand and looked her gently in the eyes as if to tell her: “I’m not going to be around forever.” The stare she gave back confirmed the receivable message. “If you can conquer two, you can conquer millions.” He released his firm grip with these wise words and a kiss upon her brow, he left the room as his legs started to ache; his marked hurry and more left Kyla shaken. “Better stand tall when he’s calling you out. Don’t bend, Don’t break. Baby, don’t back down.” Jon Bon Jovi encouraged his own two cents vicariously through the stereo as Kyla tried to wrap her head around the concept. “It’s my life, and it’s now or never; I ain’t gonna live forever!” “It’ll be as easy as placing my hands under the faucet…” She told herself. “It’ll also be as easy as jumping head first off a tall building, but…” She choked. “It’s-My-Life!” Bon Jovi punctuated and allowed Kyla the power she needed to get out of bed and open the door that had been stoppered open by a eyeglass case which Kyla recognized and picked up as she walked out of the room; she clutched her stereo close to her chest for comfort. As she shut her door, “Breakaway” by Kelly Clarkson accompanied her walk to the Visitors’ Center; the song literally played directly into her heart the whole way until she saw her way there. She was there. Where people were. People she didn’t know. Her eyes opened wide almost as soon as they shut. She wanted to throw her stereo somewhere; just run away and try to find someplace where there weren’t so many unfamiliar faces. She wanted to scream. She only fulfilled one of those bodily requisites, as any of the formers would leave her without sound. With a muffled, inaudible scream she bit back until her lip bled from self-infliction, she crashed to her knees and tried to block out the chatter she heard all around her. “No it’s not easy to tell you goodbye, gotta take a wish, take a chance, make a change and Breakaway.” She tried, but the attempt was slowly corroding at her psyche; she was being broken away.
Just sharing a personal anecdote: When I was in third grade, I thought that I was gay. Cause I could draw, my uncle was, and I kept my room straight.
You have been accepted. I also accept these two new characters so I may play my own game. xD Name: Victor George Premier Username: Sebax Gender: Boy Character sheet: Black Age: 19 Region of Origin: Kanto Favorite Pokemon: Mightyena Preferred Type: Dark and Psychic Idol: Professor Cyprus Appearance: ● Height: 5’9” Name: Victoria Kyla Premier Username: Sebax Gender: Girl Character sheet: Black Age: 16 Region of Origin: Kanto Favorite Pokemon: Skitty Preferred Type: Normal and Fairy Idol: Victor Premier and Red Appearance: ● Height: 5’4”
[/url] She was tranquilized by sound. The pills no longer worked, but music always did; it suffocated the world around her and in so: her fears. There was once a point when the medication worked. There was a time when she was tricked into giving the orderlies all of her medical complaints because she’d throw a fit if someone who even looked like a doctor stepped into the room. Her fits ruled her life; as did her fears. She wasn’t simply afraid of doctors and so many other irrational things that the track she listened to almost seemed to represent her vibrantly transitional nature. She did not speak or understand Latin, but Mozart’s “Dies Irae” didn’t necessitate an understanding of any dead language; it necessitated an understanding of the evergreen language of music. She possessed this last quality in such great deal that it was typically her one reason to live. She needed no society. The only thing society truly provided for her at all was new music. She knew who Katy Perry was and liked her, but she did not like her because some society liked her. She liked all the modern artists and composers of past because of the music they made. It was funny, to her anyway, how she could be so in love and have so much respect for men who were dead (Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach, to name a few) and she could even stand living male artists like “N’Sync”, but as soon as soon as anyone who even looked like a male personage walked into her room: she would inevitably lose her composure. Saint Rose provided, however. Only female staff would attend to her. Once there was the mishap of her bringing a great insult and great injury all in one to one particularly manish-looking woman by throwing a vase at androgynous woman’s head. Saint Rose scrutinized which staff that would go to her room after that… and she didn’t have any more flowers… or vases to keep them in. Were anyone to walk in during that exact span of time they would hear “Rondo Alla Turca” playing on the iPod-docking stereo that played the transitioned Mozart track softly. Someone did walk in and Kyla Garnet responded by throwing herself onto her bed and covering her face with the pillow on her bed; she didn’t want to see anything. In soft, cushioned darkness she heard muffled Mozart and felt a warm, familiar hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter, Kyla? Don’t have a hug for us?” An older gentleman’s voice asked with undertones of humor and untold wisdom. “Henry, I told you to knock.” The man’s voice had a fitting counterpart elderly, only her voice was a bit more touched with concern and reproach. “Honestly, Henry.” Kyla recognized those voices the same as her favorite song. She rolled over and took her head from out her pillow; she sat up on her bed and faced her grandparents contentedly. “Thank you for coming.” “Just wanted to know that you’re doing okay.” “I’m doing… alright.” Kyla responded. It was a façade for staff that took it at face value, but to the people who knew her better: it meant she didn’t hurt yet in the past few hours and nothing more. She was never “Alright”. She was conscious of the fact she was nearing her second anniversary of being an in-patient at Saint Rose and that it wasn’t long before she was a drooling mess. “Thanks for the wireless.” She said, in regards to the stereo sitting on her bedside table. “It was difficult to get it for you, after the incident with the vase.” Sylvia said with a clear note of understanding. She was not reprimanding her granddaughter; Henry and Sylvia had their share of outbursts from Kyla during the early years of adolescences they had been her legal guardians. They were likely the only ones alive who did understand her and Kyla knew their ages; Kyla knew very soon she would be alone. It was a mutual understanding, as both of the parties recognized it was the younger generation that required the most care. Henry did not want to admit his hands shook every now and again involuntarily and doctors were studiously testing Slyvia’s blood work for “an abnormality they noticed”. Kyla wasn’t aware yet of the individual onset mortality of her caregivers, but she knew she’d lose them because it was all she ever really thought about. Kyla wrapped her arms around her grandfather and beckoned for her grandmother to get closer so the elder woman could be accepted into the embrace. She held them tightly. “Thank you for coming, really.” Henry’s right shoulder was slightly dampened when Kyla pressed her face into the cotton shirt; her tears seeped through and he felt them. “We’ll be right back.” Henry’s voice no longer contained a touch of humor. Only humility and the repression of his own tears dominated his voice. “We have to talk to the doctors.” Kyla jumped back at the mere mention of the word. The paradox was not lost on her grandparents; the one place she could get better was a place so rich with all her varied phobias. Choking on the lump that arose in her throat, Kyla bit back the urge to scream and nodded. She wanted to say “Okay, I trust you. Just don’t let them come in.” as a vision of doctor after doctor flooded the room and surrounded her on every side with scalpels and syringes in hand; their faces cool and calculating behind surgical scrub masks. She didn’t have to say those words, because she did trust her grandparents and they knew her fears and the strength of them. No doctor would enter the sanctity of that small enclosure; not then, anyway. Sylvia and Henry exited, with tears streaming down their faces as they finally released them upon closing the door. They had to be strong for her; they were the only symbols of strength to the child they loved. It was the same love that stirred Sylvia back and forth between upcoming decisions. “She doesn’t like needles, she doesn’t like pills. Maybe we shouldn’t-“ “We have to, Sylvia. “The Miracle” is the only way to take care of her after we’re gone.” Henry’s hands shook a great deal more than they had in the room as he took Slyvia’s; it was not nerves that caused the tremors. “You know neither of us have much longer to sign for her and you know she won’t sign herself up after it’s been tested. She’s a strong girl. She wouldn’t have made it this far if she wasn’t. She can make it.” Henry was not utterly sure, but he did believe in Kyla. He was just not sure if he was right. “I have to calm down. I still have to sign the release forms.” No amount of calming down would stop the shakes. The shakes would pass in a little while, maybe. Tired, teary eyes met as both confirmed their belief. “She’ll be strong enough.” They said as one.
Spending two points on Stamina increase, plux.
