KH-V, you are so deep.
1. Typhlosion 2. Noctowl 3. Blastoise 4. Alakazam 5. Marowak 6. Steelix Awwww yeaaa.
Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts Psychonauts please.
This. We aren't taking any more steps towards becoming a social networking site; we've already added friend lists and customizable profiles.
Time and Tides Spoiler The sun glistened faintly over the cool Atlantic waters, its rays gliding over the tiny imperfections in the immaculate liquid gracefully. It was six o' clock, a perfect time to watch the sunrise at this time of year. Even though the young boy, completely taken aback by the stunning sight outside his bedroom window, was accustomed to waking much later, the mellow orange orb's ever so gradual ascent made the sacrifice of sleep entirely worth it. He always did love the ocean. He wondered if he could manage to escape to the outside and watch from the docks down below. His parents wouldn't approve of such a thing, but what did they know? They were too busy snoring their lives away. He stealthily tiptoed down the staircase, one step at a time, anticipating the disturbing creek at the climax of each of his paces. At last, he arrived at his destination after a lengthy journey of approximately fifteen feet. With a bit more confidence, he opened the front door, throwing on a light jacket simultaneously. He sat down at the dock, mere yards from his home, his feet dangling over the vast canyon of water, whose radiant blue tint reflected little glimmers of light. It was all so amazing to him, nothing could compare. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a disruption of sorts, something that didn't quite fit in with the placid natural vista, but was a beauty to behold, all the same. A magnificent galleon was about to drop anchor at the port a few hundred feet away. The sight fascinated him, but he kept looking out to the ocean, examining its ripples and waves. He heard creaks behind him, several in fact. He turned slowly and saw a group of men wearing uniforms that were signature of the Icelandic navy. He could tell that they were the ones who had come off the vessel that had just drop anchor. The idea of sailing the seas as your life's work was completely fascinating to him, while conversely everything else in the world seemed to bore him. He lay back and eventually fell asleep at the dock, much to his parents' disapproval. *** It was difficult to determine which was louder: the sound of pen and paper being thrown against a brick wall whilst boots stomped a wooden dock, or his screams, barely contained, and released only in small grumbles. He marched back to his home, his dream still a dream. For the umpteenth time, he was denied the privilege to wear the uniform of the navy. He looked out to the ocean again; it was glistening brilliantly, the midday sun casting its bright radiance upon the waking waters. He always did love the ocean. The ocean was a beautiful temptress; striking in appearance, practically begging him to come join her, but always out of reach. To be with this maiden was all he wanted. Any other way of life was a waste; it wasn't living. He strode off, more level headed than before, away from the docks, back to his home. At age eighteen, he really needed to find a way of life that would work for him, but as it had been so obvious for years, nothing away from the water would satisfy him. Walking by an alleyway, he noticed a rather stocky, well dressed man walking through with an heir of deviance. He led a promenade of odd looking fellows (not sailor-like at all, practically bums, if anything) towards a ship which seemed to be anchored in an unauthorized area. Not only that, but there were very noticeable differences between this slightly smaller vessel and the ones that the Navy sailed. How could it be that these seemingly ordinary men could commandeer a ship for themselves without government authorization? Hell if he knew, but the only thing that rivaled his lack of knowledge on the matter was his peaking interest. *** Thick, muddy waters engulfed his feet up to his ankles. Each stride was like a walk on a beach after a torrential downpour, however he didn't recall the beach having nails in the sand. In the very lowest sector of the ship was where the emergency rations were located. The depressing aspect of this was the fact that even their backup supplies were severely limited. He gathered what he could and, as ordered, brought food to the captain first. He ascended the steps to the main deck. Looking out to the ocean, reflecting the afternoon sun, surrounding him on all sides, he recalled how eager he was to become a pirate. He chuckled, though the situation was far from humorous. The ocean just had a way of making him more relaxed, he supposed. He always did love the ocean. No time to gaze out now, much to his dismay. Though it was uncalled for, since it wasn't as if it'd be going anywhere anytime soon. He returned to his duties and headed towards the captain's quarters. He always had a great sense of envy whenever he entered the room, for the captain lived the life he had always aimed for: that of an aimless sailor, navigating the waters, whose only task was to make sure he and his mates could eat. That was life. He opened the door cautiously, such as to not disturb the captain in whatever task he might be attending to. He peered inside in horror, mouth agape, eyes rivaling it in diameter. There stood the first mate, dagger in hand, blood running down his fingers. The captain's body, visible only after the door was further opened, was motionless in the luxurious armchair. But he made a misstep; one misplaced foot led to a deadly creak. He found himself to be in the cross hairs of the murderous first mate. The assailant approached him slowly, grinning. He simply stood his ground in the doorway, partly out of fear, partly out of instinct- an instinct to uphold his captain's honor. Sure, he endured hours upon hours of mind numbing work, but he found undeniable pride in that work, and had the captain to thank for everything. Slipping a hand slowly and inconspicuously into his pocket, he positioned a few rusty nails between his fingers. What was the first mate to think of him? Nothing more than a defenseless witness in a crime that was common among pirates. He could tell that the first mate was arrogant: a clear path to the first mate's torso and face was clearly visible. He could take him out right now, making himself captain of the entire crew, which was of a fairly respectable size. Or he could allow the first mate to either kill him, or let him live with a larger work load. The choice was rather obvious to him. With the speed of an assassin, his hand darted from his pocket, directly up to the eye of the first mate. A howl of pain echoed throughout the room; its volume would surely cause it to be heard throughout the ship, and, at least from his perspective, around the entire world. The strike went entirely as planned, and he had opened up the first mate to another assault, and a rather easy one at that; the first mate's dagger had been lost in the hysteria of the first mate's injuries. Picking up the knife slowly and gently, he walked over to the now kneeling first mate. Drawing the knife back, he released it forward again like the propellant unit of a catapult. Out of the first mate's back came a display of crimson beams. They stained his hands. Looking down at them, looking at the marks of blood, he was entranced; entranced to such an extent that even the first mate's bellowing cries of agony didn't so much as phase him. *** He found it funny how paranoid he was at first. Right after attaining the position of captain, he was constantly watching his back, afraid that just as quickly as he had risen to the title, he would then fall down into hell. After several years of commanding his crew, this fear had finally gone, and it showed; he made orders with the utmost assertiveness and didn't ask, but expected. He walked out of his quarters. The sky was getting darker as the sun made contact with the water. Its rippled reflection gave the immediate area around it an almost pink glow. He stared out in awe; he had finally done it. He always did love the ocean. He grinned as he leaned a good amount of his body weight against the railing. He had attained the sheer simplicity of life that he had always longed for. The path he took was tainted by blood, mostly that of others, but he seemed to have reached the end of it, and the payoff was simply incomparable. For some reason or another, he instinctively moved his hand down to the grip of his cutlass. Something about the atmosphere felt off. He nonchalantly looked over his shoulder; the deck was eerily devoid of any other life. He turned around, never moving his hand from the ready position, and started to walk back to his quarters. As he reached for the door, he heard the all-too-familiar sound of steel on wood. He grinned even wider. Turning to see who was making this noise, he noticed that it wasn't one of the usual suspects- the first mate, the navigator- but a lowly deckhand who came across a spare cutlass. It was held out in the ready position the tip seemed to be mere inches from his face when the deckhand was positioned at least ten feet from him. He chuckled a little and drew his cutlass. Impatient, he walked towards the deckhand, sword along his side, not even in the ready position to defend against an attack. He got within six feet of the deckhand before the first strike was made. Lunging at him with just a slight heir of nervousness about was the young deckhand. This eager move proved to be an unwise one, as he reflected it fairly easily. The two squared off under the growing glow of the moonlight. It seemed like hours, days even. They stepped to the dance of death for an eternity. He dropped from his stance and left himself open. He grunted cockily, practically begging the feeble deckhand to slice open his torso. The deckhand obliged, making a movement to his chest, but then pulling downwards, incapacitating his left leg instead. He took a knee, not only out of the undeniable need to, but out of admittance of the fact that he had been defeated. The grin never left his face for a moment. He looked into the deckhand's eyes. He accepted his red fate. *** The sun glistened faintly over the cool Atlantic waters, its rays gliding over the tiny imperfections in the immaculate liquid gracefully. It was six o' clock, a perfect time to watch the sunrise at this time of year. But not today. An entire crew of men watched as four individuals carried out a crudely made casket. Loyalty is a fickle trait among pirates; used sometimes, misused and abused at others. The situation was a difficult one for the crew. How to feel? Emotions were mixed as the uneven wooden box was raised up to the level of the main deck's railing. Those who carried it rested it on the top of the railing and looked out to the ocean, perhaps expecting it to tell them how to feel. Getting no answer, they turned to their captain, who did nothing but nod. They pushed the casket over the edge. The shoddy wooden container had many imperfections, which included holes and cracks in the material. Water began to flow into the casket slowly. The crew looked on as the wooden box sank lower and lower. No one said a word, even after the makeshift coffin had been completely engulfed by the water. It sank to the depths of the ocean. The currents cradled it with care, and, slowly but surely, it explored every last inch of the mammoth body of water. He always did love the ocean.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF I can't choose. Erm... Beast and the Harlot, simply because it has a shitload of variety in it and you could probably make a really awesome remix of that.
Blasphemy.
I know that! But come on, 99% of the time, it looks like a phone box. ;__;
So my friends and I played a parody of Tribute by Tenacious D for our AP U.S. Government project. We had two days to practice, so obviously it all turned out beautifully. Spoiler Sorry for the blurriness, only pic I could find. We called ourselves "Snake Kush and the Libertarians" since our project was on the Libertarian Party. :v I be on the left.
Doneth. :3
Jayn, gogogo! ;___;
TARDIS ;____; Best non-living- erm... wait, it IS alive, since they grow them, so, um, best living phone booth character ever.
Yea, I'm used to people kicking my ass with Jigglypuff; this doesn't surprise me. Yea, I mean- WAIT A SECOND
Yea, you freaking wish. Just because you win a mere vast majority of our matches doesn't mean you "kick my ass." >:
Don't even try to deny it.
As was I. Though the above stupid Pikachu lover said it before me. >:
Was that an attempt at antithesis or some demented form of irony or something?
Yea, I didn't hate the first one. I actually enjoyed it during some parts. That being said, I wouldn't exactly go out of my way to see this movie, and I certainly wouldn't see it unless I was going with someone else.
Don't worry, when my cousin told me that about a month ago, I nearly laughed myself into a coma.
JacobxBella is SO much better than EdwardxBella.
