No problemmm. c:
I used to do things like this. Sigh, memories. I found this in an old thread of mine, here.
Happy Birthday pictures.
Hey, could you resend me your picture for the Happy Birthday chorus? D;
Mhm...Number three.
I didn't get my name, either.
Oh you, hahaha. Dear Diary, Spoiler: Sadness Today Forsaken publicly mocked my efforts to obtain his number. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I've asked nicely, bluntly... I've asked through Skype, MSN, thread, VM. I've even asked through gifs, songs and original poems! Why can't he just give in? Why does he always reject me? I just want to bond with him. It's not like I'd really be able to afford to call him, or anything. And then Sabby had the nerve to brag about having his number. She even gave me a fake one, claiming it was his. Is it because she's Asian? Is Forsaken racist? Or am I just not good enough? I can imagine all of the other staff members...Teasing me. "So Forsaken, has that Jayn tramp asked you for your number today?" "Poor girl thinks she really has a chance at your number? Ahahaha. How stupid! Tell her to get back in her RP Arena hole." Are you among those laughing, Forsaken...? Are you laughing at me?
That was nerve wracking for me. xD
In other words, wtf drastic changes are to occur and there were warnings. GS barely missed one, and there are more to happen with everyone including myself. I may change you back, maybe. Try to work with it for the bit, as Kelly suggested, since you're not the only one who will eventually have to deal with something like this. If you're so busy that it's going to take you six days to post at a time...ehhh. Feel free to skip out on this one. Dedication/activity is always a huge must in my role plays, especially in the ones with specific roles and so much characterization needed. Just keep that in mind. D; It's not your fault and I don't blame you if you want to leave the RP. :/ (I'm also not mad or hostile, so I apologize if I manage to sound RAGEY.) Also, Midnight, your voice. *_________* Yes.
Happy Birthday! Have a great one. :')
Her turn was up. She felt sick, her head throbbing. Instead of taking a step forward, she felt her foot drag back. She really didn't want to go out there, especially after those amazing performances. What could she do, really? She was well-aware that most people couldn't pull themselves apart, but who would want to? What was so great about falling apart like a ragdoll? Like a toy? Her lips pressed together and she shifted, staring quietly down at her feet. She already knew the act. She knew what to do. She just didn't want to do it at all. She wanted to escape far, far away from where she was and standing. Stitches tried once more, in vain, to quell the queasy feeling her body assaulted her stomach with. Her nose worked slowly to calm her beating heart and attempt to cease it's frantic beating. Nothing was working. Finally just steeling her fragile nerves, she shook her head and closed her ruby-hued eyes. She spread her arms parallel from the ground, slowly the stitches keeping her arms to her shoulders began to come undone. The wires pulling back from the tiny holes that they looped through. The rest of her body was soon too follow. Piece after piece thumped and thudded to the floor as impatiently the audience waited for this bizarre doll to make it's appearance. Her mind could still feel her heart pump wickedly fearful in it's chest cavity. It's show time. ♥ Her body parts did there well practiced routine flawlessly. No matter where the audience looked. None one could spot her body parts in the crowd of the assortment of toys strewn about the stage. Her head rolled behind a stuffed teddy. Nudging it purposely to hear a gasp here and there from the audience. All about the dimly lit stage, the only things that could be seen were the same dolls and toys moving sporadically. As if flung by an arm was a Jack in the Box tossed from one side of the audience to the other. It's excited monkey landing on it's side, springing out and banging it's golden cymbals together hauntingly as other things began to be twisted, turned or dragged. Suddenly people began to shriek as the tossing toys ceased there movement. All over the recently hushed and confused audiences, people began to murmur before quickly they too were struck by the mysterious clamp around there ankles. Some whispered it was an odd snake and that there was no doll woman, or that the toys that moved were simply hung on strings and the screamers were just part time actors. But all talking once again quieted down for two lights began to beam down upon two very patched up limbs of her's. The fingers attached to these limbs dexteriously helped her arms weave through the audience before weaving expertly through the legs of the shocked customers. Once over the guard rail of the bottom floor the two lights above combine into center stage where a hidden Stitches' head resided. With force, these twin arms carefully sweeped and brushed aside all toys assembled before the teddy but three. These remaining three toys(a stuffed Jiraffe. An old Russian Doll. And a stuffed rabbit with ears that were large enough to cover it's face.) were arranged to protect the Stitches' skull from view. With that done, the arms plopped lifelessly before the teddy. Finally, obscured Stitches began to quickly have her upper body roll towards her arms. Her wrists had fallen arms atop each other, forming a V, perfectly allowing the upper body to park itself. And that is exactly what her upper body did once it barreled it's way past and over flung, dejected children's keepsakes. Spinning and continuing to twirl until, like a spinning top in reverse it spun itself from a horizontal rolling chest to a upright chest before coming to an abrupt halt before her arms apex. Her body was not complete yet. Her hips pushed and bumped a path to her gathering body parts. Her other body parts seemed devoid of life. As if simply to come centerstage, they'd used all their life's energy. Soon her hips lay before her splayed fingers. On the tips of her toes with a ballerina's grace. Her feet and legs began to swiftly hop, turn and prance past any toy or stuffed animal in it's way before finally coming to rest at her hips. Her feet pointing towards the crowd as she neared her finale. The room felt hot to Stitches; uncomfortably hot, especially beneath the spotlight. She was grateful for the silence though, despite it seeming to give rise to her noticing the heat. But she had not time to focus on this all right now. Her toes inched forward, slowly as if crawling towards a source of light. Once they were far enough for her legs to lie down and touch the ground, she bade them to do so while at the same time her thighs settled neatly into the groves of her hips. With a skip over her crossed wrists her chest fell backwards dramatically at the same time her arms rose up on the palms of her hands turning themselves until they too could fall chillingly into place at Stitches arm sockets. The creepy display in the dark lighting was not over. For those up front could clearly see that at the end of each body part, her stitches rose into the air like wavering, dark, thin tendrils. Like shoe strings they began to quickly tug each part into the right place. Lacing themselves up as if it were nothing at all. The decapitated body became whole. It made Stitches give a quiet sigh of relief. There was no joy for her in falling apart at the literal seams, but she would not feel complete until she literally was complete, physically. The onlookers watched as a neck and head launched itself directly up to the small of her back. Her foot was used to delicately balance and catch her descending head, then again her head was up in the air as she kicked upward. Her arms now firmly attached to her body, caught her head and lowered it purposely slow to her chest. As the black tendrils on her neck reached down into the base that was her chest, she kept her head tilted up towards the ceiling so the crowd could see the stitches work there way back into their proper place. When her neck was nearly situated she flung her arms out wide and dramatically, bending her elbows and knees slightly in a curtsy. Stitches was whole again. The lights dimmed and she was gone, once again backstage. She sighed out and shook her head, not saying--or wanting to say--anything at all.
Good to hear. Good luck with your work! I'm good. Just got home from a day out with Fuzzy. :')
x x x x x
I literally just got home, lawl. Will post tonight, when I'm settled. @___@
The White skin is default. But it's coo'. I switched over, lololol. I go back and forth.
alwayyys i wanna be with youuu and make believe with youuu and live in harmony harmony ohhh lovee
Yeeeep. I used to keep all of my Pokemon cards in a binder, sorted and organized in those plastic paper-cover things, for pages and pages. It should be in my basement/attic somewhere. Totally going on a hunt for them tomorrow.
This is also very late, but you're very, very welcome. <33
<ooc: Posting as Bellatrix when I wake up. (or on the fourth, fufu)~ > ◊ BGM ◊ Well, one had made it on time. The deadline had even been extended slightly, and yet... Her eyebrows knit in confusion, back slouched against the throne she sat upon. She felt no anger this time, simply annoyance. She really did not enjoy it when the pawns had to be altered for such stupid reasons, despite how much more interesting it made things. She was hesitant to declare this change, but she never went back on her threats. With a bored sigh, she leaned forward, peering down onto the game board childishly through the floor of glass. "Congratulations, Daxam. You are now female. You have been hiding this from the rest of the household--excluding the Lord, the reason why is up to you. Be creative, won't you? Along with that, you are also pregnant. The gender of the child is not yet determined, but their fate is tied with yours. The only one that knows of this pregnancy is the Lord of the castle--because he's the one that impregnated you. He keeps it a secret. Maybe there's something in it for him." She leaned back, crossing her legs elegantly. She wasn't very elegant at all, obviously, but she enjoyed pretending. It was something she loved to do, always; and as the moments hypothetically passed by, she had done a bit of thinking. Theatrical and cruel. Was that a facade, too? She knew she was genuinely amused by the game and by exploiting weaknesses, and all of those lovely things, but truly...She wasn't a very cruel witch. Maybe immature, but not cruel, right? Was it better to be cruel? Before she knew it, she was feeling quite depressed and lonely. Sitting all alone in a room made of glass, a stupid and predictable game in front of her. She had plenty of story left to play, but she was still alone. This would have to be remedied. "Crestatia," She paused, bottom lip quivering. "You dumbass..."
OOC; A good thanks, haha. Sure! c:
