McNip's and Sarg's official test thread.

[Titty McNipples]

A l ε j a n d r o
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l o c a t i o n; at home


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xxxxxxxxxx ● ● ● don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch
Just smoke one cigarette and hush ♥
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Text text. "speech."

Draw those flames that burn before him.
Now he's gonna fight, gonna fool the bad.
Don't call my name, Alejandro.



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just a -l i t t l ex w h i t ex l i e.

[Titty McNipples]

" If I close my eyes real tight maybe it'll all just disappear. "

+My Chart Say's+

♥ Marcelo Gutierrez

♥ Marco

♥ seventeen

♥ six feet, maybe a bit taller.

♥ a hundred sixty?

++What My File Say's++

Olá! There's nothing really special or phenomenal about me. I don't have an exciting 'life story' but mi familia does. I was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and lived there for a very, very short while. Maybe until I was, like, four? I don't remember. My father and three of my older sisters moved for the 'american dream.' We've always been poor, but in America minumum wage is alot. One hundred dollars can buy you so much in Brazil. My father was planning on raising me and my sisters, getting us to work as soon as possible so we could make money and return to Brazil wealthy. My sisters were much older than I and were almost old enough to work, but firstly they had to learn English. We all did. It was easy for me to learn the language at school where everyone spoke it, but my father had to attend classes that cost money we didn't have.

I live with seven people right now, which is alot in such a small home. My father, three sisters (two of which have children), and Rosa's boyfriend Miguel. Three quarters of my family is still in Brazil. I never met my mother and she recently died of pneumonia. It makes me very sad, because although I have never seen her I loved her very much. Family is very important to my father but I have my friends and my life here in America. There's so much stress and pressure being put on me to make money, work, get good grades, find a Spanish woman to marry, have many children, stay fluent in Portugese... it drives me crazy! There's so many rules I have to follow too. I have to be home every night in time to say grace before dinner, we go to a Spanish speaking church as often as we possibly can, I have to tell my father or sisters where I am at all times, I can't see any girl who isn't Spanish. I just wanna give up and try and be happy. So far so good.

É hora para a igreja já?! Bahhh! It's time for church. Again. Adeus!
- Marco ♥♥

Alright, so I'm an adrenaline junkie. I'm always decked out in band-aids and scabs and neat-o scars. Danger and thrilling dares give me boners, like seriously. Dare me to do anything, and I'll do it. I go through great lengths to outdo Travis, but it's all in good fun. A little competition only makes you tougher. Ahhh, Travis. Lots of rumors are going around that he's a 'wifebeater,' but... y'know... he's been through a lot of s**t. Cut him some slack, he's a good guy and he loves his girl. People probably assume that because I'm defending him I'm on the 'dark side.' Nah. There's two sides to every coin, right? Maybe she has it coming! Ohshit, no that's wrong of me to say. You know what? I won't get involved. I'd rather just stay here on the sidelines. What else is there to know about me? Oh! I like to prove people wrong. If something is expected of me, I'll do the opposite. I want to be unpredictable. I got a potty-mouth and I'm a little corny at times. I bake muffins and they're ********' delicious. Wanna fight? Hopefully not, because I'm a pansy-a**. I do everything to avoid confrontation... but what can I say? I sometimes get a little snippy if you set me off. Test me and I might throw a punch. If my friends are having a fight I'll usually try to lighten the mood. I'm optimistic... most of the time. When I start sweating the small stuff you best stay away from me because I'll freak. I bottle emotions until I explode. I try to stay mellow but then I get bothered about decisions and work and stress and I gotta grow up and go to college, get good grades and family... and stop watching cartoons and put some pants on. Agh! ♥♥

+++What they don't know+++

♥♥♥ I'm just the skater boy.

♥♥♥ girls are serpents with tits but I think I have some fluttery feelings towards Chambes. my little pranks have no effect on her.

♥♥♥ I love anything that can give me a good rush. I don't have a license, but that won't stop me from drag racing. As strange as it is, I love getting hurt. Bruises and scratches are my trophies. Eating meaty deliciousness covered in barbecue sauce is a hobby. Getting drunk. Collecting comic books. Most music. I love spicy Spanish cuisine. The hotter the better! I watch a lot of cartoons and old American sitcoms like Seinfeld and Married with Children. I like sticking things in my skin like thumb tacks and safety pins and I do a lot of gross stunts to annoy the princesses. Wanna see me snort up an earthworm and pull it out of my mouth? I do a lot of cooking and baking. Muffins, flan, caramel custard, caldo verde, salsa... if I were to work I would like to own a small family restaurant, but If I told my dad that he'd probably be pretty pissed. Food and family is sacred.

Now, as for people? I love my sisters, my big family, the people at church, and my friends. Some people believe that I have a crush on my best friend's girl, Ellie, but I don't. It's just... maybe if I'm real sweet on her then... well, I don't know. I can't work miracles or anything. She deserves someone who's going to be nice to her, but she's not going back to Lance. That'll just make everyone angry and uneasy and screw up the balance that we've been maintaining for years. I don't think she knows what I know. I don't think he knows either... but for now, I'll always have an extra muffin for her. Sometimes I worry. I can't distract everyone forever. :c I bet the whole group thinks I'm a total creeper.

♥♥♥ I hate having to apply myself or do much of anything that isn't fun. I don't like to wear a suit and tie and I never wanna work a day in my life. I can't stand rules, church and structure. I don't like having to accept the truth and live in the here and now. Everything is okay, so don't tell me it isn't. I don't need your pessimism. La la la, I can't hear you! Speaking of pessimism - girls. Relationships always screw me over. Maybe I've been with the wrong girls? I've dodged a few nasty rumors, and a few are finally dying out. My dad always embarrasses me in front of friends I have over. Not to mention, he expects me to be perfect. I just want to be myself and never grow up. Welcome to my happy world, now get your s**t and leave.

Oh! Before I forget, I really hate (okay, maybe 'hate' is a little much) all you who have Travis pegged as the devil. Seriously, cut the s**t. He loves Eloise and if you lot try to break his heart I might seriously lose it. Everything is gonna work itself out so keep your noses out of their business. You too, Lance! You're a cool guy and all, but you had your chance. Step down.

" Life is like a mirror. If you smile at it it will smile back. "

[Titty McNipples]

I don't wanna be told to g r o w u p
I don't wanna change! I just wanna have FUN!

Prepare for trouble, and make it double. Team Abusive Boyfriend blasts off at the speed of light! Surrender now, or prepare to fight! Marcelo was a turd in the potential punch-bowl that was Sir Lancelot and Princess Eloise. That s**t wasn’t happening on his watch. Why? Well, because he was a villainous rat who condoned all happiness! Muahahaha! No, not really. Marco was in a blissful state of denial and focused solely on the silver lining of things. He despised unnecessary change and Ellie was an absolute angel. If anyone could transform Travis and put a halo over his head, it was her. Everyone just had to wait this thing out. Things would get better! What things? Well, Marco didn’t know… or, he pretended he didn’t. He didn’t want to know, but he assumed the worst. Things weren’t right, but they were as good as they were ever going to get. For now, atleast.

“Rosa! I’m gonna be late! Can you drive me to school?!” He loudly requested while running down the hall in hopes of locating his cellphone. “Miguel, do you know where my cellphone is?” The half-snoozing man at the table spooning soggy cornflakes into his mouth grunted a ‘no’ in response. This was Marco’s life on a daily basis. Mornings were hectic. The kids had to be brought to school, Miguel had work, Dad had just come home from the nightshift, Rosa was getting her daughter ready, Jasmine was resting for college. Seven people coming in and out made things very stressful for poor Marco who just wanted to find his phone, get to school on time and avoid detention. This was the first day of his senior year too! So much to do!

“DRIVE ME TO SCHOOL!” He shouted to command the attention of his extended family. ‘Cállete.’ hissed Miguel, a Spanish phrase meaning ‘shut up.’ “d**k.” Marco bounded over toward the counter where he had a plate of muffins and noticed that two were missing. He would’ve gladly shared if asked, but taking without permission was not cool. The teen’s tired and overworked father lumbered into the center of commute and almost instaneously Marco began to voice his complaints. “Oi! Papa!” ‘Cállete…’ the drowsy lump eating breakfast growled once more, causing Marco to snap. “YOU TELL ME TO CÁLLETE ONE MORE TIME AND I’LL SNAP YOUR DIC-“ ‘Marcelo!’ “But-!” ‘Marcelo…’ Epic defeat. Strange how dad could settle any household disturbance by saying two words. “…tchhhhh. I’m taking my skateboard then! Thanks for nothing, guys!” With that said he hoarded three muffins in a ziplock bag, grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and bounded out (backpack equipped) to locate his skateboard and begin his commute to school.

POST FILLER OVER.

“Oh my ********] Marcelo hissed in shock and contained excitement after seeing some of his friend cluster grouped around a very familiar fellow. The oblivious teen normally would’ve passed Lancelot without a second glance thinking he was just a stranger, but because Mariah was standing near him his eyes were naturally drawn towards his direction. Marco was always seen with blonde bimbos who were more plastic than person. He usually dumped them before things got too serious, leading people to believe that he only wanted sex and proving that all guys are jerks. His strange little crush on Mariah was doomed from the start. Everyone saw him as an irresponsible friend who was a nice guy but crap boyfriend material. Most were quick to assume that Marcelo was shallow and only interested in easy blondes and hot Latinas, but in actuality, he believed self-respecting ladies were too good for him. Especially Chambes. Nice girls were out of his league so it was safest to stick with the putas (no offense, putas.)

Woah, I went off on quite a tangent there. Anyways... "Olá, guys! The ********!? I wasn't invited to the reunion? Laaaaaance! Damn!" Marcelo was always so loud and often commanded most of the attention in the hallways. At this point the entire world should know that Sir Lancelot was back from wherever the ******** it was he went. He awarded the other members of his posse an acknowledging smile before jumping right into matters of pressing importance - finding out who he had his first class with so he could goof off and not learn anything the entire year. "Any of you guys have math first?" Ewh. Math. Hopefully he had the same class with someone smart who could help him with his homework. Marco was a visual learner said his Health Teacher back in Freshman year. He did best in language and science classes.

While panning his gaze off towards Eloise, Marco's heart sank and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. She had a black eye, her arm was in a cast and she wasn't wearing any make-up today. Ellie looked perfectly fine without that glittery crap all over her eyes but... I'unno, he just wasn't used to seeing her without it. He flashed a grin that his heart played no part in and over-enthusiastically complimented, "Aweeesome cast. I had one like that this summer. Bet you're itchin' like a son of a puta!" The fiery-haired scanned her arm as if admiring her cast, but really he was wondering what could've happened to case her to break her arm. As a skater and an adrenaline junkie Marco knew damn well that bones were hard as ******** to break... and when they finally snap, damn does it hurt. Poor unfortunate soul. "Can I sign it, Ellie? I'll let you sign mine next time."

my outfit
my board
my house



denial. optimism. ignorance. bliss. Marco xx ♥

[Titty McNipples]

no need to highlight ;u; ❝ I may not be a worthy leader, but I caη bε your paωη. ❞

★ ( ( Hisashijirou Takeshi ) ) ● ( ( Twenty four ) ) ● ( ( God? ) ) ● ( ( Male ) ) ● ( ( January 6th ) ) ★

★ oηce upoη a timε...


BIOGRAPHY
"The ageless samurai weakly attempted to tug his once shining katana from the thick trunk of a tall oak tree. His sword, rusted with blood, put up a strong fight. He was much too weakened by the constant onslaught of incessant robots to successfully remove his beloved sword. Finding that he would be unarmed on this fight made the samurai's heart race. Hisashijirou Takeshi turned to face his opponent. His face twisted into a powerful scowl as he looked upon the man that he once called his brother. Only this wasn't a man anymore. After taking on the role as leader in his new robot army he decided to become one of them. A cyborg. A monster. Electrical currents pulsed through his robotic body, from the eternal battery that always fueled him. Rei, as Hisashijirou much preferred to be called was the most powerful samurai of his time, but all of his powers proved futile to this threat. This was his final stand, would he ever get his empire back? This final fight would say it all. A blue light shone around Rei's pulsing fist, the light faded to gauntlets of ice. He hoped that if he hit the Cyborg hard enough in the skull, one final blow, he may shut him down for good. Typically Rei had all of the time in the word, but had his time finally run out?"

My name has undergone many changes. At birth it was my father who named me, Jirou Takeshi. Jirou is a common name that I greatly detest. It has no uniqueness about it. Its meaning is, 'second son.' Nothing is worse then being the second son in a family. I soon adopted the name my mother wished to call me, Hisashi. I am from a family of warriors and my mother constantly feared that all of her sons would die, and leave her alone. She gave me this name as a prayer to the gods to keep me alive. My new name then meant, 'long-lived'. My father, being a very powerful, and highly respected Samurai, did not approve of this change. After quarreling about my name for a good season I decided to render a compromise between the two. As awkward as this was for myself, I came to an agreement between my parents, from this point on my true title became, Hisashijirou Takeshi.

My family has ruled for many generations, the Takeshi dynasty has controlled Japan for over seven hundred years. We are known as the family of great Samurai, our last name meaning, 'fierce, violent, warrior' it is hard for us to imagine being anything else, or doing anything else but fight for our beloved land from any threats. Due to many circumstances I have earned various nicknames from many different people. Aisu, is one of them. This means ice. I suppose these names may have something to do with my god-like abilities, because I also earned the name, Jikan, 'time' somewhere along the lines of my life. People who hate me blandly call me, Jaaku, 'evil'. Over the years I decided to stop caring so much about my name. It after all, is only a title. Currently I've been demanding to be called Absolute Zero, by my people. Close friends are permitted to call me Zero or Rei.

My life has easily been split into three different major parts. My childhood, as it runs from the time I was born until I took over as emperor. The golden ages, that ran through my time as emperor until my empire was taken from me. Finally, the dark ages. This is my current life. It tells the stories of my adventures trying to get my empire back from Japan's most powerful enemy yet. Usually I have all the time in the world, but it seems I'm struggling. I've come to Drosselmeyer for help in abolishing the technology.

I fight for whatever will keep my land alive and thriving. I would kill anything to protect my people and my land. That is my duty, as it is my passion in life. There is no greater thrill, or honor then to fight for the very land you thrive off of. Your land gives you life, a family, a place to live, everything you know and love exists because of the earth beneath your feet. Everyone should take care of the land as it takes care of you. It can not fight for itself. I hate to see the abusers of the world rip apart the very thing that gave them life. There is no greater dishonor in this world.

My entire family is human. There wasn't a single thing out of the ordinary about any of us until I was born. Although I didn't discover my abilities until I was a young teen. When I was thirteen I noticed, along with a good friend, that I carried the gifts of gods in my veins. My powers were so strong that my frail body, at the time, couldn't control them. I killed that friend of mine, by accident of course. As frightening, and confusing as this event was at the time. I was fully aware that if my family had found out about this I would be dishonored, disowned, and soon murdered for my crimes as a punishment. With a heavy heart, I gave my friends body to the land, and hid the remains that couldn't be accepted again by the giving earth. From this event, and many others involving my powers, I came to a conclusion that I must be a god.

REASON
My true desire is quite simple. All I want is for the destruction of all forms of technology. Computers, robots, machines, if it can't run without an energy source it shouldn't be running at all. That is just my opinion, and I want to make it a reality, but I need your help Drosselmeyer. I agree to this game if you agree to my terms. Besides, the people of this world are better without wretched pieces of scrap metal and electricity controlling them, trust me.

I FIGHT FOR
I fight for whatever will keep my land alive and thriving. I would kill anything to protect my people and my land. That is my duty, as it is my passion in life. There is no greater thrill, or honor then to fight for the very land you thrive off of. Your land gives you life, a family, a place to live, everything you know and love exists because of the earth beneath your feet. Everyone should take care of the land as it takes care of you. It can not fight for itself. I hate to see the abusers of the world rip apart the very thing that gave them life. There is no greater dishonor in this world.



. . . SUGAR AND SPICE AND EVERYTHING NICE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .




★ thεrε ωas a Samurai


APPEARANCE
I'm afraid the picture I submitted to you above is slightly obsolete. I have no other pictures of myself. That picture was taken on the day I became a Samurai, so it is several years old. I'll explain what I currently look like in detail right here, right now.

I stand at six feet tall even, you'll notice the sandals I wear with my Samurai uniform amplify that height by a few inches, but it is just the way the footwear is made, honest. Although, most of my family members enjoy growing their hair out to long, excessive, and unmanageable lengths I like to keep my dirty blond hair always above my shoulders. I, on occasion, will put my hair up to keep it out of my face during serious battles, but the majority of the time I stick to auburn or black colored bandannas with various Japanese symbols marked on them, to keep the hair free from my eyes. Heh, my most captivating feature has to be my eyes. They are either an icy cold blue color, that if you are looking close enough appear to be snowing around the pupil, or they are completely white, no pupil. This tends to happen when I use my time control powers, causing my eyes to remain this way for a good time afterward.

I always attempt to go for a more rugged look then that, pretty boy, constantly clean shaven look. I have slight facial hair growing around my jaw, if I were to let it grow out it would be a hideous looking beard, so I always keep it short and hardly noticeable. I also have a bit of hair growing on my upper lip, but again, of course I keep it clean and manageable. All the men in my family have very good looks, set aside my eldest brother of course. I hate to sound pompous and conceded or anything, so don't take me wrong, but I think it is possible that I may have inherited the gene for good looks. If you saw the family portrait you'll notice that I look nearly identical to my father, one of the greatest Samurai in in the past ninety years. I do my best to take after him, I admire that man.

I try to keep my face clean and blemish free, but you will notice on my face, that earlier in my training I acquired a nasty scar that cuts down my face. The beginning point of the scar is typically covered by my bandanna, however it starts at my forehead, cuts down my eye, and stops near the center of the flesh on my right cheek. I cringe at the sight of it honestly. The cut was given to be by a boy who was far to clumsy and irresponsible to be holding the precious katana in his feeble hands. I taught him a serious lesson, believe me. Tarnishing the face of the future emperor of Japan wasn't something to be taken lightly. I'm not a cruel man mind you, but you would have done the same in my situation. The imbecile could have blinded me. The other scar, that cuts across the bridge of my nose, I earned in battle. Although it bothers me, the sight of it is, simply put, hideous, I smirk at it. I know that I earned it properly in a battle. I defeated a man far stronger, and more experienced then I was, at the time. I received that lone injury, so I take some pride in it.

As you can probably imagine a good forty years worth of hard dedicated training, completed before I surpassed my twenties has given me quite a muscular build. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be soft and cuddly, but I'm not. I'm rough and jagged, my body seemingly cut out of mountains themselves. Scars from battles cover me, but as my body heals rather quickly they don't stay dark and noticeable very long. They turn to light pink scratches along my chest and back. The only really bad scars, the ones on my face, remain so dark, because I received them before my body adapted to the power of time control. My birth given gifts have given me many advantages in battle. One of them being that I don't have to suit up completely in all of my heavy samurai armor. Making me much, much faster. I wear most of it though, the very expensive, nice looking, shiny parts. The parts with golden symbols that glisten and sparkle in the sun and moonlight. Not to show off in anyway. I just like how it all looks. Along with assorted armor I wear armored dark colored pants and a red royal samurai robe. It was once my great, great, great grandfathers. It was passed down through the first born samurais in my family. It skipped my older brother and went straight to me, I lucked out. The b*****d got everything else that mattered to me.

Lastly, I'll describe the weapons I carry on my person. I bet you thought I only carried around my magnificent Frostbite katana? Well, no. A master I once trained with a few years back, his name was Master Eccadan. He required I master a different type of weapon, a hammer. The hammer is my size exactly. The handle is quite long and thick, making it difficult to attack with if you aren't sure what you are doing. The weapon is very heavy, making it quite easy to throw your balance off if you aren't educated and trained in the proper fighting stance. The sledge hammer piece that is firmly attached to the base is about the size of my upper chest, and almost as thick. A weapon like this does some serious damage. You would think that it would slow me down, but you are wrong. I can more then handle this little guy. I haven't named it yet, but I'll think of something good. This weapon's home is in a special holder on my back. Then of course you have already been introduced to Frostbite, so I wont bore you by yammering on about her further, she stays safely at my right side, always ready to fight with me.

I am sure you have noticed this by now. My left arm. Yes, it is gone. Replaced by this disgusting technology. I absolutely hate technology, robotics, and machinery of any kind. If I didn't need this replica to continue my reign as lead Samurai and Emperor then I'd have torn this metal contraption off of my being the second it was placed there, take my word for it. Having a piece of scrap metal for an arm is no fun. In fact, in my mind, this is the biggest sign of weakness I think I have ever allowed myself to show. I have taken advantage of this handicap though. Since I can control it like it is my real arm, and it never tires out like my right, I've taught myself to be ambidextrous. Now I am able to use both limbs at full power. The arm itself is made out of the strongest and finest metals around. I have yet to see a single scratch form on the powerful artificial limb, and trust me. I have put this thing through Hell and back. I've had some upgrades built into it, and so now it can shoot out a deadly plasma like liquid at any type of enemies. The liquid eats rapidly through both metal and flesh, making it almost as deadly as frostbite... Almost. The last little feature is a super-clock. It remembers all of the important dates in my life as I live through them, this way if I need to rewind to a certain point in time and 'fix' things I can get to the exact moment without guessing. It is also handy to go back to the exact time I stopped time at. Wouldn't want to stop time in the after noon and come back the next morning, I'd miss supper!

PERSONALITY
I am very honorable, as it comes with the samurai profession. I'm respectful, loyal, moral, and helpful to friends and allies. I've always been humble, I'm modest and for now, abstinent. I'm usually very level-headed and focused. I like to think of myself as a well-trained, highly skilled fighter and a protector of the innocent. I am merciful, quiet, kind, and honest. Honesty is welcome in society. I'm brave, as I must be, and stoic. I'm fighter for my country, my people, and the land that I love until the day I die. Recently I have grown a bit vengeful, and you will soon discover why.

POWERS/SKILLS/TALENTS
Ahh, there is nothing more beloved then my powers. I know this to be true. My powers make me the strongest man alive, without question. I've killed entire armies, before a single solider could raise a sword, before any warrior could release a flesh-tearing, jagged-edged arrow, before the vibrations of the musical instruments of inspiration could reach the ears of the awaiting army and fade away into the distance. Have I earned your interest and full attention yet? Well then I promise you that I will get to the puzzling, yet intriguing details soon enough.

From the time I was old enough to walk I was trained in the powerful art of the Samurai. The most powerful warriors in Japan. Samurai's are the only warriors permitted to work closely with the nobility in Japan. However since my family is the nobility in Japan this never made much of a difference to us. Being a Samurai required a man to master many forms of martial arts and fighting, more specifically... Judo and Kendo . It is very strict, firm, painful and complicated training that most men aren't cut out for. A lot of families wanted their sons to achieve this honor, but most couldn't handle the soul-crushing discipline. I however, did not have a choice. It was either succeed or be disowned and shunned by my entire family, and all of Japan.

After completing what was required of me I sought out to master all the other kinds of martial arts I could find. Every time I came across something new I took a great interest in it almost instantly. I already had the physical strength, I simply needed to adjust my self discipline according to the training. It wasn't long before I mastered these different forms of self defense and fighting. I soon began receiving belts made out of black materials, and the respect that came along with them. I was soon very popular and famous. However my brother always outshone me. Not that he had more skill or talent. Of course not. He was the first born. The special one. The one who would receive control of the country as all my dedicated years would become wasted serving him. I guess you should know that I hate my brother.

It was soon known that he was the smart one. The goody goody. The one with the brains to control an army, but not the courage, nor strength to fight along with it. He was a coward, and the worst part was everyone loved him. It didn't seem to matter to anyone that he broke tradition. He was the only man in our entire family that didn't achieve a Samurai status. I thought for sure my father would give him a stern punishment and in turn decided to give me the country that I worked so hard to earn. Instead he couldn't be more eager to step down and leave our glorious land to this spineless failure. I was outraged. I soon went into overdrive. I rushed around to the greatest trainers in all of the land and begged for them to teach me the ways of the martial arts that they have mastered. I was learning what I needed, but it just wasn't fast enough for me. I was about to turn twenty and about to lose everything. That was when I discovered something marvelous.

I discovered how to control the way time moves. I could freeze myself in a certain period of time for as long as I wanted. The world froze around my conscious body. Simply touching the person I wanted to remain in the timeless void and chanting, 'Jikan' I could be frozen in time with whoever I pleased. This was a break through for me. I went around to at least thirty different masters and learned their ways. In what would have normally taken a person dozens of years, took me what seemed like seconds. As much as all of these fighting styles amazed me. What else in this entire world could I possible need if I could control time? Rewind it, fast forward it, and stop it. There is no greater ability. I haven't dared fast forward time yet. I fear what the outcome would be. Rewinding time I discovered was a very complicated thing to fix if you tampered with the past to much. I soon told myself I wouldn't do it anymore. Freezing time is the way to go, without question. You can get anything you need accomplished without any confrontation. I can also freeze opponents in a timeless zone while I remain in the current void. Although they think they are moving, they appear to be stone cold statues that are easily cut down by my blade.

This is probably one of my more pointless abilities, to be frank. I call it dream walking. I can see what other people are dreaming while they are sleeping. I can choose to just watch the dreams, or I can enter them for a more in depth interaction with the person. You would be surprised at the things you can learn about a person just from their dreams. The only real power I get from this is if the person in question is having a nightmare I can copy the appearance of the nightmare, or whatever it is that is scaring them, and use this appearance out of the dream realm. The down side is that only they themselves can see, hear, taste, smell, and feel whatever it is I take the shape of. Anyone else will see nothing, and think that the person in question is simply losing their mind. Pointless I know, but at times it can be very fun. I can take the shape of some very powerful, very interesting things, and even if it is to torment one person, it is still a damn good time. The last little perk to this ability is called, Living nightmare. I can make people experience nightmares while they are awake. The only way this ability wont work, is if the person in question can differentiate between what is real, and what is not. I figured since anything can happen in Drosselmeyer's world that this will be difficult for most to overcome.

Along with freezing time, an ability I discovered later in my life. I was always able to actually freeze things, an ice ability I guess you could say. This was how I murdered my childhood friend. I have since gained a conscious understanding of this ability and a powerful control over it. It is hard to injure my body, as it is the skin of gods and constantly covered in the powerful Samurai armor of my father. I can heal any wound I receive rather quickly, however I have to be resting. I can't heal myself when fighting. I have a very unique sword named, Frostbite. It is a twelve foot long Katana, custom made by me. It is an unbreakable sword, and the blade itself is so sharp it can cut through even the strongest armor with ease. The hilt is two feet long and firmly carries the other ten feet of steel, and within it rests a hidden blade, much smaller of course, but still very deadly if you know how to use it. Luckily for me I do.

Being the powerful person that I am. My abilities can not be copied, learned, or stolen by anyone no matter what they are capable of. My physical shape can not be copied or altered by anyone. All in all, I am me, and no one else can even try to be me. My abilities are my own and unusable by any other being. My body is completely immune to any controlling, copying, or stealing ability powers. I don't care how powerful you think you are.

MY TACTICS
I have hundreds of fighting styles. It is all a matter of picking which one will work best in whatever situation I am in. When in doubt I can always freeze my opponent in time, and crush him from there. Typically I like to fight my battles without resorting to that, but if it is a necessity then I will do it. I'm not limited to just freezing them in time though. Freezing someone alive in a block of ice I can't imagine being to comfortable. Oh, and I doubt being sliced in half within half a second could feel to good either. Or I could just bash my opponents head into the ground with my hammer. That could be fun too.

WEAKNESSES
If I'm attacking someone with ice and they attack me with fire it had better be a pretty damn hot flame if you expect an advantage, my powers aren't so easily down and out because you can juggle fireballs. Woopty doo good for you. I can be hit and hurt like any normal human I suppose, and without my full armor I suppose that is kind if a weakness. However, my blood is deadly poisonous to the touch, might want to be careful if you give me a decent cut, you might not be as lucky as you seem. Oh, here is a huge weakness I'll let you in on. If I get hit in the head hard enough as I freeze time, I can accidentally freeze myself in time as well. In this case it is only I stuck in the timeless void. Unable to move, unable to fix the time void. I'll end up staying, completely solidified in this state until I eventually starve to death.

LIKES
Of many things I like, being a Samurai is one of them. Fellow Samurais are people I can appreciate. My armor (it's not your run-of-the-mill armor), my attire... Actually, I'm quite fine with my entire body and features. My heart belongs to my people, my land in Japan, my family, my many masters and my empire. I have a strong fondness for nature and seeing it in pain physically hurts me. My twelve foot long unbreakable Katana, whom I've named Frostbite (custom made by me.) My hammer (a weapon was required to master.) I'm fond of my gifts and abilities and being looked to as a hero. Winning and an honorable battle, young children, giving back to the Earth and reliving precious moments in my life.

DISLIKES.
I hate all of all forms of technology. Computers, robots, machines, if it can't run without an energy source it shouldn't be running at all. Making enemies and bad people such as stupid/ignorant people, those who are godless, those who dishonor their land, families and people, cocky warriors, murderers, those without values and those who are weak. I disdain my elder brother for becoming technology, as I do my robotic left arm. I don't like being looked at as evil, torture and brutal killings. Fire, destruction and all that unneeded chaos, bears, hot water, and my scars.

HOBBIES
in one paragraph. bold, color, or underline the hobbies.

FEARS
The sight of nature in pain, hurts me. Almost physically. Nature does everything for us, to just see it being hurt makes me sick. If I see someone brutalizing nature it could drive me into a deep rage. You don't want to deal with something like that. Also, yes, accidents have happened where it was I who caused nature harm. I tend to get very upset, and go into almost a depression like state until I can repay the land for the harm I caused it.



. . . SNIPS AND SNAILS AND PUPPY DOG TAILS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .




★ aηd the warrior livεd happily εvεr aftεr. ♥


LOVE ME HATE ME.

PERSON1 I feel ___ and _____ about PERSON1. He/She/It is ____. I am friends/enemies with PERSON1. etc.etc.

PERSON2 I feel ___ and _____ about PERSON2. He/She/It is ____. I am friends/enemies with PERSON2. etc.etc.


THE VOICES IN MY HEAD.
Nine Inch Nails- Hurt

MY PERSONAL PUPPETEER IS Doctor Kickass ● ● ●



. . . SPRINKLE IN A DASH OF HONOR AND INTEGRITY AND YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A WELL DISCIPLINED EMPEROR.





❝ I see skies of blue, clouds of white
Bright blessed days, dark sacred nights
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world. ❞

[Titty McNipples]

no need to highlight ;u; ❝ I may be good for nothing, but I caη bε your paωη. ❞

★ ( ( Maggie Mui ) ) ● ( ( Twenty ) ) ● ( ( Human ) ) ● ( ( Female ) ) ● ( ( December 25 ) ) ★

★ oηce upoη a timε...


BIOGRAPHY
Maggie lives in an apartment building in Hong Kong with her two sisters Anita King, and Michelle Cheung. They make a living by running their own detective agency. Their own business is called 'Paper Sisters Detective Agency', and they surprisingly get a good deal of clients. Probably due to their efficiency and powers.

Michelle, Anita, and Maggie are well aware of the fact that they are not true biological sisters, but they are so close, and have been through so much together that they consider themselves true sisters. Maggie is the middle sister and often acts the more responsible of the three. Michelle and Maggie share one very common interest, their insane love of books. They love books so much that their entire apartment is filled to the rim with thousands of books that they both have read several times.

Well, one day they get a job from a famous authors, publisher, to protect her from her many "admirers" during a book signing in Hong Kong. This author is known as Nenene Sumiregawa. Obviously s**t goes down and on their way to take her to a hotel the exact room Nenene was suppose to be staying in blows up. Sending huge amounts of debris hurling to the ground below. Meggie makes a quick escape with Nenene and her sisters and they end up meeting the publisher in a separate hotel. No matter how much the group pleaded with Nenene to not go to the book signing, she went anyways. She gets attacked by this jealous, psychopathic author, and so it is the Paper Sisters to the rescue.

They end up saving her a** several more times, and end up living with her in her apartment to make sure she stays safe. Maggie, Michelle, and Anita are of course completely unaware that this crazy organization that calls themselves The British Library, want to kidnap Nenene in order to destroy the world and start anew. All sorts of s**t goes down. It becomes known that Nenene's "overprotective" publisher was actually working for the British Library the whole time. He used the Paper Sisters to keep a constant eye on her, and to make sure none of the British Library's competition got to her first. Once they were ready to cleanse the world they sent a s**t load of special troops into Nenene's apartment. They all fought as hard as they could, but they were drastically outnumbered, and all out of paper. All Paper Sisters are captured and cuffed excluding Maggie, who gets shot in the back in her final attempt to save Nenene before she gets captured. That last thing the b*****d publisher does to sort of spit in their faces is, he pulls out a small briefcase and places it on the floor in front of Michelle and Anita. He tells them it is the payment they are owed for taking such good care of Nenene. He then kindly thanks them and leaves the apartment. Not without delivering a swift kick to the back of Maggie's head for giving him so much trouble during the capture.

It isn't long before all Paper Sisters recover from their injuries, and make a plan to save Nenene. Originally they were only in this for the money, but they all developed a close friendship with the author, and it was sadly their fault she had been kidnapped. They were willing to risk everything to save their new friend, including their own lives. They took their entire payment, and instead of paying their overdue rent in Hong Kong the spent all of the money on supplies for their most dangerous mission yet.

Many things go down when they infiltrate the British Library's heavily secure base. For the most part they stuck together, each sister using there own special skills to eliminate every obstacle aimed towards them. That is until they met up with Sonny Wong, a very powerful paper master hired by the British Library on the off chance Maggie, Michelle, and Anita made it to far in their base. (These guys prepare for everything x_x) The Paper Sisters are literally in shock at how powerful this man is. Not only was he huge, but his paper skills seemingly surpassed theirs in every way. Maggie's defensive/ logic mode kicks in, and she tells her sisters to go on without her. They argued with her, but Maggie was not having it. She turns her back on them and goes after Sonny alone. Michelle and Anita decide to honor their sisters request and continue the mission to save Nenene without their sister at their sides.

It isn't long before Anita and Michelle get separated. Michelle ends up fighting many solders on her own. While Anita rescues Nenene from the dangerous experiments the British Library nearly began preforming on her. Michelle ends up clearing the area of solders. Anita begins dragging the unconscious Nenene out of the British Library's headquarters. Meanwhile, Maggie surprisingly gets the upper hand in the fight with Sonny. The paper master is humiliated by the fact that this woman was better then him, and that he had never lost a battle in his life. He pulls a dumb a** move in desperation, and ends up dying because of it. He caused a very expensive and important looking machine to blow up, which then caused this crazy a** chain reaction of explosions to occur. The place ends up getting flooded in what appears to be oil. Maggie decides that the fight is done and makes her escape. While Sonny drowns to death in the flood of oil. Soon the entire family is reunited outside of the destroyed building, and there is one big happy reuniting moment. Sadly the s**t that happens to this group is far from over. The British Library is far from finished with their evil plans, and from the remains of there old headquarters rises a new one. With new powers and even bigger threats.

REASON
I am here to cure Fay of her illness and blindness. I want her to have a chance at life and not die so young to this awful disease. I also want her to be able to see all her favorite places that she could never see before.

I FIGHT FOR
I fight for good and I fight to protect my family from harm, even if it costs me my life.



. . . SUGAR AND SPICE AND EVERYTHING NICE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .




★ thεrε ωas a Paper Master.


APPEARANCE
Maggie is a very tall woman. Her height (6'1) makes her feel incredibly awkward around others. At first she is almost boyish in appearance, her style of clothing doesn't help her much. She has short black hair that has a mind of it's own. She also has nice brown eyes. Though often careless of her appearance, Maggie is actually quite attractive.

Maggie usually dresses in slacks and long, loose shirts. But while fighting she constructs an elaborate blue and white fighting costume (out of paper) Typically underneath her clothes she will wear a black combat leotard in case of lack of paper or sudden unconsciousness.

PERSONALITY
Maggie is a quiet, modest, and an antisocial bibliophile. She possesses her own form of realism and straightforwardness. Maggie says little, but when she does speak she cuts straight to the heart of the matter and her suggestions show calm good judgment. Maggie is extremely protective of her friends and family. Her quietness and placid exterior, mask a complex and conflicted personality. She is brave and decisive in battle and times of physical danger, but many ordinary situations leave her baffled and uncertain. She blushes frequently and is easily embarrassed. She never complains, but she sometimes feels overwhelmed by complicated tasks. Maggie suffers from a lack of confidence. This is especially true in social situations. Maggie is almost pathologically shy.

Maggie is also known to be very blunt in certain situations. Never holding conversations well with people besides her family, she tends to say exactly what is on her mind, especially if she believes in what she is saying strongly. As I said Maggie is a bibliophile, meaning she has a physical and mental obsession over the reading and possession of books. It is said that this disease is somehow linked with her powers but this isn't set in stone. Maggie at times physically needs to have a book or she will faint. Having literally read millions of books Maggie is extremely book smart and multilingual, however street smart... Not so much. She is also a fantastic cook.

POWERS/SKILLS/TALENTS
Maggie posses the ability to control paper. Her paper powers allow her to create and control paper "familiars," like a giant bird capable of transport, paper made monsters, and robot type things etc. She also has strong defensive powers creating massive bullet-proof walls and spheres. All beings, and defenses are made out of an enormous amount of paper she can shape at her will with her mind. Maggie is also known to make paper weapons, equal in strength to whatever it is shes copying. For example... Paper sword... Is sharp and strong like a real sword. You get the picture.

LIKES
If it weren't obvious enough Maggie likes loves books and everything about them. Her favorite author is Ernest Hemingway. She enjoys cooking and helping others out. She loves her sisters Michelle Cheung and Anita King. She is very shy, and antisocial so she hardly makes friends of her own, but she has developed a close friendship with a blind girl named Fay who has a deadly disease called Amyotrophic Brain Stem Decay. Fay is the reason why Maggie is here, she wishes to cure her of this illness. Though it is strange for her enormous stature, she enjoys small enclosed spaces and can be often found reading her favorite novels under a table or in a closet. Oh, and she has a major sweet tooth.

DISLIKES.
Maggie isn't one to complain, but she does have a few things that she doesn't like. For one, she hates being sick, because when she gets sick, she gets super sick. She doesn't like feeling useless and hates imposing herself on her sisters, but she is known to faint randomly when ill and has to take it easy. Being the shy woman she is, Maggie doesn't like public places and crowds and is known for avoiding these things by any means. She doesn't like meeting new people and shies away around strangers. Mostly she loves her sisters with all of her heart and wont tolerate any harm coming to them. She will do anything to stop evil people especially if they harm her family.

HOBBIES
Maggie likes reading and collecting books. She likes running errands for her sisters and even driving them around. She enjoys cooking every meal in the house and even cleaning to an extent. However, reading is the bee's knees for her there is nothing she enjoys more then reading a good book.

FEARS
Clearly anything negative ever happening to her sisters is a huge concern for Maggie. When it comes to fighting she fears very powerful opponents, ones she knows she wont be able to beat. She fears becoming terminally ill, and helpless, much like her dear friend Fay. She losses sleep over Fay, deathly afraid she will pass away. The only woman Maggie truly fears is her landlord/friend/possible crush, Nenene Sumiregawa, a very prominent and famous author in Japan.



. . . SNIPS AND SNAILS AND PUPPY DOG TAILS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .




★ aηd she livεd happily εvεr aftεr. ♥


LOVE ME HATE ME.

Captain Jack Sparrow Although he loves bossing me around and treating me badly, I really like Jack. I've read so many stories about pirates and he knows his role and plays it well. I can't be mad at him for being himself, especially since he is allowing me aboard his pirate ship. I can honestly say I'd put my life on the line for him, and I think we will get far in this game together.

Kanna S-she, well... Uh... She is very nice. [insert blush] She kind of scares me though.


THE VOICES IN MY HEAD.
SONGS OR TUNES THAT REPRESENT YOUR CHARACTER. External links plz?

MY PERSONAL PUPPETEER IS Doctor Kickass ● ● ●



. . . SPRINKLE IN A DASH OF BOOK SMARTS AND BRAVERY AND YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A PAPER MASTER.





❝ Deep in my heart I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say. Scared to confess what I'm feeling - frightened you'll slip away. ❞

[Titty McNipples]

♥ alεjandro ●
________________
currently; satisfied, snarky... happy. c:

toystoystoystoystoys▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
yogiyogiyogiyogiyogiyogiyogioi ● ● ● p a r a d i s e
yogiyogiyogiyogiyogiyogiyogioixxi It's just another day for you in paradise. ♥
toystoystoystoystoystoystoystoystoystoystoys▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

"Speech." Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text.

Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text. Text text text.

♥ ♥ ♥ I'm not allowed in paradise.




xxxxx
talented entertainer. xx charismatic bandit. xx cynical prostitute.

[Titty McNipples]

"Those who accept their fate find happiness; those who defy it, glory."

Drosselmeyer is...

Drosselmeyer has a sadistic and tragedy-loving personality that makes him an opponent to fight when trying to escape one's tragic destinies within the Game. He is the one who first wrote the story, and continues to watch and deliberately influence the events from the "loop hole in time" after his death. Because of his powers of making anything he writes become true, his hands were cut off by the people of the town. However he continued to write with his own blood.

A writer named Drosselmeyer, whose stories became reality, had his hands cut off and was killed by those fearing his power. With his stories left unfinished, some were trapped in an eternal battle. Because Drosselmeyer had written about himself before he died, and managed to continue to control events despite his death.

Dross collects and makes puppets, sometimes out of people (dead or alive.)

Drosselmeyer can control himself with his own writing/narrative.

Drosselmeyer uses puppets and illusions in his own image and has an uncanny habit of appearing in the strangest places.

Drosselmeyer gets a kick out of stories where the protagonists are ineffectual, accomplish nothing, fail to bring villains to justice, AND they die. Also a big fan of fractured fairy tales.

SETTING

Dross came from a world/town surrounded by a high wall and reinforced with a barrier that forbid many to come in or leave. Kinkan Town wasn't just inspired by a story. It was the story. Beyond the town's gates the world is empty (dark and blank.) This is where Drosselmeyer's body was thrown and where he started from scratch. Also beyond the seal (symbolizing the darkness) is a monstrous Raven that served as a villain in one of Drosselmeyer's stories. It mustn't leak into town.

In Kinkan Town there are plenty of anthropomorphized animals who go around acting more or less as humans with no problems. That's the way they are written. Underneath the story's mask, they are regular animals.

The story that is controlling the town is what Drosselmeyer has written with his blood.

The cute people and peaceful-looking fairytale town are deceiving. Once secrets are revealed both Drosselmeyer and Kinkan Town are surprisingly dark.

Let's say the setting is in Germany somewhere.

The men who killed Drosselmeyer are still around to watch his descendants/followers and any who just so happen to be like him (AHEM), ready to step in if they start to abuse their power.

GAME/PRESENT

He states that the Game is within the mind which may or may not be entirely true. The mind plays a big role (in the form of hallucinations) but a few things don't seem to check out, the main thing being Drosselmeyer. This remains a mystery. One thing that isn't a mystery is, he needed interesting characters to fill some interesting roles.

Writing with blood. (Drawing with blood?) It seems with more death and violence in the Game the stronger Drosselmeyer's abilities become, more landscapes, more scenery and more games can be played.

Drosselmeyer gets very put off (but rarely shows it, depending on who) when the internal fourth wall within the game is broken and one attempts to join/speak directly to him by means other than death. He also is put off by out of body/out of mind experiences with the competitors. There are flaws in his Game that cannot be mended and if one were to play their cards write things could go very awry.

He has an interest in those who defy fate (Tandero), and has little respect/tolerance and a dislike for those who dwell or let their fates control them (Lucy, Papillon [eliminated], etc.) And at the same time, he prefers that people know their place. Dross wants to be interested but doesn't like being challenged.

[Titty McNipples]

practice.

crowded area (masquerade)

"I can't seem to find a clear station, Roger . . . " he crooned in a voice that fell short of a normal speaking volume. His tone was soft, slow and sweet, accent light and airy, and consonants crisply enunciated as he spoke them. Hollow pauses between words were filled with raspy asthmatic breathing. This was Salad Fingers, and today he was feeling anxious. Roger, a broken radio situated on his cupboard, had been bellowing rather unpleasant frequencies for some time now. Voices, horrible voices, the likes of which he's never heard. Music was melted into the background, slipping and drifting to overly sensitive mutated ears. There was much talk of wine, dancing and masks. Outside of 'Charlie's' world he was standing at the marble wall, rolling one of his long, misshapen fingers against a bit of stone that jutted out. Of the many people in this ballroom, he was blissfully ignorant until the moment one dared to approach him.

The deformed man, absent one mask, leaned forward and pressed one of his hot cheeks against the cool marble wall. Rolling his face against the wall, he let his lower lip brush against the stone and his fingers curled to grasp what wasn't there. Onlookers would assume he was attempting to get intimate with the wall. In all honestly, he was. He was getting very intimate with Roger, but not in a gratifying nor in a romantic fashion. Salad Fingers was angered by Roger's poor behavior. "I shan't have you bellowing such frequencies. . ." He narrowed his pale, ruby eyes (sunken from lack of decent sleep) and trailed circles in the stone that was much too smooth for pleasure's sake. ". . . upsetting my insides . . . a-and worrying my mind." A deep, raspy exhale warmed the cool texture. He pressed his disproportionally tall body fully against the wall and curtly snapped, "I have a good mind to show you the door."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Midas's tail

His lips were curled into an eternal smile, syrupy as if intoxicated. His eyes had fallen upon something new and unique. Shiny and lustrous, as if wet, the scales of a certain blonde's tail had Salad Fingers eager for a touch. He weaved his long fingers together and took long strides towards Midas, as if he was a bride walking down the aisle on her big day. The way Charlie walked was always rather unsettling. With each step he would turn his head, sometimes only slightly and sometimes as far as he could. He could never hold his body in just one position. Like a snowflake, he had to be slightly different with each stride. Fortunately for Mr. Fingers the proprietor of such an aesthetically pleasing texture had his attention elsewhere. Quiet muffled footsteps came to a halt and the oddly colored male crouched down, gaze transfixed on a single scale before viewing them in their entirety. He retracted his pointer finger and spoke, "I don't believe I've ever laid fingers on one of these before . . ."

Attention had finally been drawn to him, but by now it was too late. He gently pressed his finger on the reptilian tail, first analyzing temperature. Slightly cool to the touch. Salad Fingers was fascinated. "I just want to give you a big stroke . . . " A downward stroke was taken, causing the male to shudder almost immediately, eyes rolling back into his head and lips parting slightly. "A . . . aah . . . ah . . ." he vocalized through raspy, jagged breaths. Leathery and dry, and slightly rough as many sand snakes usually were. Salad Fingers had been lucky as to stumble across a snake with keeled-scales. The center ridge was a pleasure for the tips. Drawing his hand back his placed all the fingers, plus palm, down onto the tail, pressing slightly harder and stroking downward faster than he'd done previously, shuddering in anticipation and whimpering in pleasure. As more strokes were taken (varying in speed and pressure) the man became increasingly vocal.

The friction and stimulation against his overly sensitive fingers suddenly brought his entire body to an apex. His fingers splayed open, suddenly loosing their grasp, and Charlie's spasming body dropped from a crouching position to a hunched kneeling position. Forehead resting against the scales, mouth gasping for breath, he dropped his tongue and allowed it to trace the ridges that had brought him so much pleasure. With eyes-half lidded and an intoxicated sort of smile still strewn across his lips he wearily tipped his attention upwards to Midas, the proprietor of such a welcoming texture. Blink. Blink. Giggle. Blamelessly, he complimented (in that soft, crisp voice of his), "Your body is so much fun. . . ♥"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

being attacked *not attacking back

"Aaaaahhh-~" he screeched inwardly as opposed to an outward wail. Pale ruby eyes blinked repetitively before panning over to his shoulder where there was a thick, open gash. What a large cut! What an excess of blood! His body was nearly crippled by pain. Oh! Salad Fingers has never been more aroused in his life. He vocalized his level of arousal with short moans and pained whimpers, bringing his finger to investigate and prod the wound. Widening it and tearing at the flesh as best he could, moaning and wailing loudly as he did so. "Alors. Habille-la!" he articulated in a deep voice, finally in range of normal speaking volume. French gibberish that meant nothing. He claimed he could speak that language but rarely formulated proper phrases. Drifting back into his soft range of tone he drawled, "I . . . like it . . . when the . . . reeeedddd waaaater . . . comesss . . . ouuut." Then he was out like a light. Face down and floating somewhere between unconscious and conscious, lips mouthing the lyrics to 'somewhere over the rainbow' as he hallucinated himself to sleep.