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[Panda--PUNCH--x]

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t e m p t a t i o nxxg r e e t sxxy o uxxl i k exxy o u rxxn a u g h t yxxf r i e n d

L o c a t i o n // In The Thick Of It
T h o u g h t s // A cesspool of BO and a stall to fry every food imaginable. ********.



It was as festive as it was oppressive, the image of frolicking and good fun pinned and surrounded by men with tightlaced boots and even tighter lined frowns. Masks and bright colors boxed in by shades of gray and soft but present promises of punishment should anyone step out of line. And yet, despite every attempt to keep order and safety at the widely celebrated event the air felt charged with a kind of tension and excitement that was a bit above the normal thrum of energy. It felt almost as if the city was holding it's breath, afraid that even the slightest bit of disrruption could be the spark that sent the world aflame into chaos. The suspense was thick above the bustle of people in the open courtyard lined with stalls and booths, heavy with the expectations of something grand to come. Something spectacular.

"I swear... if ONE more person decides it's fun to walk straight into me like I don't exist, I am going to take this damn churro and shove it through their nose to check if there is a brain in that near-empty fat-covered fish bowl they call a skull."

"B-But Mama! JaqJaq would like to eat the Churro! It won't be yummy anymore if you do that!"

... And with a collective heaving sigh, the city let out all it's disappointment out. After all, the arrival of a mother and child was hardly anything to be excited over. Genesis was full of them. How unique or steadfast to the ever changing world could this pair possibly be?


Oh. If only the world knew what fate and destiny (those sick twisted bitches) had in store.


With another near-teary eyed plead for the salvation of the sugary confection, China Marigold Huedale crumbled underneath the pleads of her son and retired her chosen weapon of assault, The Almighty Churro, to the young boy at her side. A cry of triumph and glee tore from his lips as he raised the sweet pastry to his mouth and took a large bite, puffing his cheeks to compensate for his enthusiasm before once again making his way through the crowd; his mother in tow. Looking even more irritated for having been relieved of her doughy probe stick of righteous punishment; the young woman grumbled under her breath and turned instead to a muted yet sustained glare of promised pain towards all larger bodied individuals who strayed close enough for her to see the wrinkles in their clothes. Once again CURSING her lack of sanity the moment she agreed to brave the crowds and generally idiocy that came with large groupings of human beings for her small son, the young woman satisfied her itch to clear right out of there and retreat back to her safe and secure solitude deep in the underbelly with a string of increasingly violent and torturous thoughts involving all the masked and goofy individuals around her. Hit at full speed by a pink spotted llama, torn from the inside by a mutated pinto bean, crushed by a sudden increase of gravity exactly where they stood. As each thought progressively less realistic the harsh lines of her frown softened and her stiff shoulders began to relax.

After all, nothing quite took the edge off off a hermit being forced to brave large crowds than Happy Thoughts of mutilation and destruction via situations highly against the odds.

">A< M-Mama! Can JaqJaq go into the petting zoo! Please!"

Slowly, honey almond eyes turned to the caged pen at her side chalk full with small creatures with enough fluff on their forms to successfully feed a pillowing company for months on end. Rounded off with large baby eyes and generally miniature cuteness; the small woman was all but ready to tell her son a very firm and serious no. Unfortunately, she looked at Jaq before she spoke her chosen answer only to be met with a face pure and open with all hopes and dreams plain upon his young features for the whole world to see. She paused as he glimmered in willful wants towards her, and gently clenching her jaw she gave the boy a slow nod.

A whoop of excitement and a hasty tug through the gate later found the small woman sitting on a haystack with a baby goat on her lap and various small chicks nesting around her; her all to excited ward near selfcombusting in the corner of the pen. Smacking the nose of the billy goat away as it tried AGAIN to chew a piece of her simple outfit, the young woman took a deep breath and returned to her previous form of tension release as she reminded herself that this was all for her son. All for her cute bundle of blue joy. Breath in. Breath out. Visualize.

Goat meat stew boiled down to be tender and soft with several small roasted chickens stuffed with herbs and rubbed down with butter for a golden crisp.

Ah... Yes. That thought would do just fine~





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[Panda--PUNCH--x]

The Sacred Name of My Forefather: (Your username)

The Name The Wind Whispers: (Your Characters Name)

This Is What The Earth Made Me: (Gender)

I Have Seen This Many Winters: (Age)

My Reflection In The Water: (Pictures, Anime only please)

My Position In The Tribe: (Your Job, are you a hunter? A Shaman? Maybe the Chief's Child?)

People Say I Act Like This: (Personality)

I Love Seeing These Things: (Likes)
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Please Keep These Things Away: (Dislikes)
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The Tale of My Life: (Brief Bio)

Other Info You Should Know: (Any Additional Info)

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

Hey Hun,

Before we start I need to let you know that I do NOT say anything out of personal dislike. As a person, I think you're dandy. It is my dedication to this RP and it's Players that I uphold a certain state of quality to ensure a level playing field that is interesting and interactive. Because of that, I take great time and consideration when I look over every and all characters that come my way. I will do my best to explain why I have any problems with a character and do my best to help the creator rectify the situation. Unfortunately, I do have a three strikes policy. Because of that I suggest that you utilize the tools you have around you, ask questions, and bounce ideas my way before submitting another final draft. With that taken into count, let's get down to work.

How this is going to go is very simple. First, I will tell you what exactly is wrong with your application. I will go into paragraph detail on each bullet point that outlines what it is that doesn't quite fit. After each fault though I will give you suggestions on HOW to rectify the situation. At the end I will write up a small summary so that it condenses everything into an easy small format.

ONCE AGAIN. I DO NOT HATE YOU.

8D

Let's Begin.

All Over The Place:

Honestly, I get the feel that your character isn't really all to defined. There is an inconsistent nature that comes with her profile, one that makes it a bit hard to read. It may be because you were trying to convey your characters personality; but it doesn't do much to pay homage to those who wish to understand what you are saying. Something is written, upon which it is instantly backtracked upon. You say she's unpredictable, but if the writing is done in her point of view it makes her seem either spacey, sarcastic, or just not quite all there. It isn't a bad thing to let individuals feel aspects of your character in the profile, especially when it is written from their point of view, but there comes a point where to much makes it harder to digest.

My suggestion is to cut back on the playful mental rhetoric and pick out what exactly it is you want to stand out about your character. Get that down, read what you have, edit, and then add in bits of interest and personality in appropriate places so that your character doesn't loose it's value. The writing should flow. There are to many stop-and-go's in your writing, and in turn it's hard for a person to get all the way through in one go. You never want a person have to stop reading your profile because of a switch-up in wording or a backtrack that makes a previous statement null and void. If a person stops reading, the likelihood they will start again is very slim.

Clarity Is An Issue:

Honestly, it is very hard to judge or consider your character because no one *including myself* could clearly define who your character was. She seems to be trying to be a lot of things, and failing to clearly carve a unique niche out for herself. Your profile is a chance to clearly define key traits and aspects that make your character interesting and therefore, someone to be kept track of in the RP. Unfortunately, we don't get that feel from your character. It's kind of murky around the edges. What I can gather is that she hits people, and her personality is that of a spiky clam? A spiky, sometimes girly, clam? I don't use those terms lightly either. Far too often you find characters with questionable pasts and questionable personalities. In these terms, I look for defining features or characteristics that make them stand above the normal. Your character doesn't do that for me, or anyone that I have presented her profile to for that fact. And I have presented it to quite a few individuals, just to make sure. I am unsure whether you are trying to make her seem interesting or if perhaps you don't see the disconnections in what you've written; but I find that whatever your character essentially is gets lost in the writings.

What are the defining traits of your character? What exactly is it that you want people to be aware of? You state she isn't girly, but only sometimes. You say she's in your face and open about aggression, but is uncomfortable at the same time. To say one thing, then give her an inconsistency breeds only questions, nothing firm. I think you should choose 5 things you want your readers to know for sure about your character, and focus on making sure that's understood from your profile. Everything else can be revealed in the aftermath during actual RP'ing, or fully explained in later parts of your thread. Don't try to do too much all at once. It's going to muddle the image of your character.

It's All In The Story

The good thing about RP'ing is the fact that one can weave and spin stories that can best fit their situations. Unfortunately, for a character to be good there has to be a quality of truth behind their beginnings. It has to believable according to the set up of the world, otherwise it doesn't quite mesh or click. There are parts of her past that just doesn't seem to sit right, because of that I am sorry to say that your character Biography is a big negative for your overall assessment. Specifically, there is a problem that comes with how your character was raised. First, a five year old wandering around town for days is something to be questioned. Especially in a situation following the mayhem you described, there are still 2 facts that need to be addressed. First, your character and her mother was in a mall, and second, any sane adult would contact mall security the moment their child went missing in order to have all exits and entrances watched while the inside was searched. Even if the kid got outside, I am sure individuals would be concerned to see a child not even 10 years of age, all alone wandering around town. Someone should have said something, someone should have noticed. Children go missing everyday; but efforts aren't just not made in an attempt to find them.

Next, being raised by Mary Ann. I have no problem with the idea of your character being raised by someone other than her parents; only that once again a sane adult decided that a child being dropped on her front stoop didn't warrant a police call to investigate. Mary-Ann doesn't seem like a very substantial figure in your characters life either; there seems to be no real defining reason for her except that she fed and clothed your character. It's odd, because usually when an NPC is given a name in a profile it is to objectify that NPC as someone of great importance. Yet there is nothing to attributes to your character personality or current modes of thought. You would think that being raised by a woman who questions nothing and eternally is gracious that your character, in turn, would hold the same qualities. Yet the only thing distinguishable is what is bred from the death of her mother and the abandonment of her father, not what is born from Mary-Anne's care. I feel there is more importance behind that relationship. Write it into the story. It will make your character, as an individual, clearer to see.

Limitations Aren't A Bad Thing:

Levitation I don't mind. Visionary Theft, you may have to rewrite. There is something concerning the idea of being able to steal someones sight that makes my associates rather uncomfortable. Once again, I believe it is because you haven't made yourself quite clear. Is Visionary Theft being able to see what someone else sees without control of their sight (such as what they are looking at), or is it ability to control ones sight to your characters preference? It states they don't remember the possession, so I am assuming that your character mentally takes control.

That's a no.

I can't allow your power to include anything that allows them to take control over another living being. That also includes your dimensional space pocket. The idea that you can shove people away into nothing spells a big fat no for me, even if your character trains only with 10 lb items. There has to be repercussions for being able to tear the universe a new one, and having a minor headache seems to low of a price. If you want Dimension Tears, you need to specifically talk to me 1v1 about it. We need to come up with something more... restricted. Not because I don't trust you, but because your character is 20 with no prior show of being trained in her abilities and because of that very well could suck up half of Jericho if she caught hay fever and on accident sneezed open a tear in space. o_o This goes back to the believable quality of your bio. No hints of her powers, no questions on her training them, just bam. Super Abilities she can control to a good degree.

It just won't fly.

----------- In conclusion, the main problem with your character is that she's not clearly defined and the wording in your profile is partially at fault. We need to take the time to plan your character out more and decide on the attributes that make her unique, including her powers.

If you have any questions, concerns, or need feedback and help in doing this my Inbox is always open and the OOC is fair game. Ask around, see what people think. Most of the time they are more than willing to try and help good people out.

Finally. I DO NOT HATE YOU.

Please, don't get all twisted inside because I tore your character apart. It's just how I write and operate. It's how I ensure quality. Just as much as I tear characters apart, I'm more than fine with helping to rebuild them. Just ask for help. I don't bite.

Thanks for your time,
Limey

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

[ M ] a l i k

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[ P ] ~~~ Corruption

[ T ] ~~~ Go

[ O ] ~~~ Destruction

[ R ] ~~~ On

[ W ] ~~~ Insanity

[ I ] ~~~ And

[ E ] ~~~ Brutality

[ P ] ~~~ Dance

[ R ] ~~~ Slaughter

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L o c a t i o n ;; The Southern Slums - Top Floor of Shuet Ka - Living Quarters
T h o u g h t s ;; ... Well, it looks like I had a good night~

Mother ********]

A muffled groan rose from the pile of wrinkled gray sheets that topped the sole bed in the apartment above the banging dark nightclub named Shuet Ka. As it ended up most mid-afternoons after a huge gathering of the sick and the easy; there was that undeniably fresh smell of sex and hangover fogging over the whole of the club. From glitter and party streamers that laid crumpled on the floor to the wayward flung undergarment draped from some rafter or fan blade, all the tell-all signs of one freak'n awesome party were screaming and obvious. There was no doubt that a many of the wild and crazy individuals of The South were probably nursing one freak'n whale of a headache right now and The Ringleader of that Party, the King du Get'Chore Freak-On Himself, was no exception to the fact. A victim of his own sick addiction to the strobe lights and heavy down beats, the rust-topped man gave another pained groaned as he struggled weakly in the binds of his beautifully soft %19=00 Egyptian Cotton Sheets.

A grunt, a kick of his feet, and a few chosen curse words later finally had him emerge from the pile of luxury bedding with his aching throbbing head cradled in his hands. Shifting groggily to the side, he squinted first at the light that dared to stream in through the cracked blinds upon his window panes and assault his royal eyes before turning towards the clock and squinting again in an attempt to make the bedside appliance come into focus. Numbers blurred in and out of focus, and after deciding that it was somewhere between He Didn't Give a ******** and s**t It's Too Early the young male made the attempt to struggle to his feet. The first try landed rather flat, his movement to rocket himself into a standing position falling short as he merely bounced upon the bed. The second attempt was a bit better, his rebelliously sluggish body actually shifting a bit as he struggled with a tired grunt. The third attempt felt perfect. Oh so perfect. He felt the springs dip beneath his weight, the floor firm beneath his bare feet, and his body lifting up off the mattress... all before an arm snagged around his waist and once more he was back down upon those vile and deliciously soft Egyptian Cotton Sheets.

Tossing a withering glare over his shoulder, his red on red gaze came onto the angelic smiling face of a young woman. Hair the color of flaxen and eyes a soft kind of fairy green, she tugged at him once again and murmured something sweet and suggestive that he couldn't quite focus on, partly because he couldn't remember how the ******** she got there and who the ******** she was. She urged him closer with another alluring tidbit about possibly going for a round of morning sex, but considering that she probably had rank breath and her lower bits were crusty with leftovers from the night before he was hardly enticed. She could possibly have one use for him though. Quite possibly, the morning was not wasted. Tilting his head in her direction, he quietly spoke in an even monotone. "Can you cook eggs?"

For a moment, the young woman's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. It apparently wasn't the response she was hoping for, but with a soft shrug of her shoulders she shook her head. Apparently, her domestic skills didn't go past riding and spreading. Frowning, Malik jerked his thumb towards the stairs that led down onto the main floor of the nightclub and out towards the back doors. "No? Get the hell out of my place." The events that followed were probably an obvious turn out to his comment, but even as Malik nursed his stinging cheek and watched that Fairy-Faced Ho sweep out of his club with her pumps in one hand and her underwear in the other; the Prince couldn't really find it in himself to care all to much about anything other than he was sure his brain was swirling around in his head.

A very unsexy burp followed by another heave to his feet had the first part of the day finished and the second well underway, the relieving of Princely Privates. Shuffling his feet across the floor he tugged open the door to his bathroom only to be met with the image of a male insanely similar in facial feature and coloring to the female he had just been assaulted by; stepping fresh out of his shower. The green-eyed male stared at him, Malik stared back, and noticing a furious trail of red marks focused on the pale skinned man's neck down his shoulder the sand born prince could only assume that last night had included quite the physical show of endurance with twins. Beautiful, sexy, perfectly lovely twins. Feeling that dull tug at his loins to let his bladder have peace though, Malik felt no urge to toss the blond back into the shower for another round of slap dat'fine a**; and instead scratched the back of his head, stepped up to his commode, and visibly sagged in pleasure his water hit water.

Not even breaking his stream the young party-king tilted his gaze towards the blond and drawled out in a rather lax manner, "... You. Can you cook eggs?" It seemed the males of that particular family line were not only blessed with looks, but brains as well. The young man in question nodded as he tugged his boxer briefs up onto his hips, arching his eyebrow at the almost odd circumstance of the situation. In return Malik shook out his special friend twice (cause anymore is just playing), tucked it back into his pants, and tossed the boy his usual ******** kind of grin as he dragged his hands through cold water."Well alright then. Let's go."

Breakfast. Meaningless Sex. And a shot of Whiskey to chase off the Hangover.

So started another day and another party.Turn up the volume. Dance. Dance.

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

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xxx { A w e s o m exxx M a n }

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Where I Stand Beneath The Sky ;; The Crossroads - At The Big Bank!
The Things I Can Not Say ;; The Transition into Being A Man!


Today was a special day. A special day that for so many others had come, and with it great responsibility and expectations were bestowed. Unlike normal days where he would wake up and go about his day in a patient yet observant and carefree nature; today would be a testing of both his moral fiber and sound judgement; both strong qualities of becoming a Respectable Man. As such, you could understand why hours before the special event that would take place that special day had that poor young man was near bursting at the seams with excitement and nervous squirms erupting deep from within his stomach.

After all, he was only four and as such was only so big. It didn't take much to fill his small vessel with swirling emotions and cause him to literally fret and pace all about as if he had ants within in his tiny pants.

Now what event could be so interesting, so profound, so pivotal in a four-year-old's life that it demanded every energy-wrought fiber of his being to demand that he moves to keep himself sane? Perhaps a beloved children's show icon had decided to bring their On-Stage Show to Jericho's Local Play House? Maybe there was a fair dedicated purely to dipping things in melted chocolate and then deep frying it in funnel cake batter? Was Cosmic Comics having a Super Hero Look-Alike Day with individuals who very possibly held the very same abilities as the panel-bound symbols of truth and righteous justice. Though surely all those situations would have the poor boy awake at a ridiculously early hour and all but ready before the crack of dawn to take on the day; none of those life-altering events were lined up for that day. At least not that he was aware of. Oh no, today was a day set apart on a level all it's own. It was a right of manhood. A step into being independent. A responsibility gifted by the gods to only those able to withstand it's complications and repercussions!

It was the day he visited his first bank.

Oh, the way the Earth shook when he merely thought of the doors that opened with visiting the bank. There was the possibility of opening an account; may it be one for savings or one for checking. There was the chance of getting a pretty little ATM card with his own name, Jaquzzi Crisco Huedale, stamped across the front (perhaps they had bunnies as a background?) He could inquire about APR Rates on Home Mortgages or Car Loans; which surely meant SOMETHING important if all the TV Show Commercials spoke about it in such a serious tone with people who had serious faces. All in all, the little boy summarized that there were a lot of good things that happened from visiting banks; and since this was his first one he was surely quite excited for the event to come.

A hand reached up to brush down black bangs, smoothing them against his forehead, as the small child shifted from one foot to another in the small yet respectable crowd in front of Lionsgate Bank. Dressed in his best blue jeans and hoodie, he did his utmost to look presentable and worthy of entering the large building with stone pillars out front and a staircase flanked by giant marble lions; much like the temples of Gods spoken of in those story books where people wore funny bedsheets as dresses. That alone was a sign of the things that could happen once he passed between those solid guardians caught in an intimidating pose and into the world of, The Bank. There was a man perched on the top of those stairs standing next to a podium set up before a red ribbon stretched before the doors speaking about something or another, what exactly though the little boy couldn't understand. Despite that point he mimicked the looks of interest, strong consideration, and serious frowns as those around him did; not wanting to mess up the ritual simply because he didn't know how to react.

Peeking between the large bodies before him he watched as the man rose up the biggest pair of scissors he had ever seen, took the ribbon between their blades, and then snipped the red band in half. Suddenly, everyone around him erupted into applause; startling the small child into clutching his stuffed animal closer at his side before he in turn began to applaud just as loudly. Something good must have happened, and as the crowd started to shifted up the stairs and towards the bank JaqJaq could only feel his anticipation only grow. His free hand shifted into that of the person closest to his side; a familiar squeeze reassuring him as he started up to the Temple of The Bank one step at a time. His eyes tilted up to the side, trembling excitement evident in his bright blue eyes as he inched closer to his companion. In return, he was a rewarded a smile. A small one, yes, but one none the less. Keep Going. And so he did. Stepping in through the doors and past the ribbon that laid broken on the floor; a fresh blast of air conditioning met him as well as the largest chandelier he had ever seen. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting from being outdoors to the inside lighting of The Bank. From the high glass windows behind which the Tellers stood to the curved wood polished of the center podium where people paused to gather slips of paper and doodle upon with pens, there was a sense of duty, responsibility, and purpose that seemed in every way possible a right of being an adult.

Passing by all those though, he and his companion quickly side stepped all the lines and the podiums to a set of office desks off to the side and were seated at one of those desks before a lady with a pair of glasses upon her pretty face and a smile upon her red lips. She reached to the corner of her desk where a clear decorative bowl stood and took it in hand, revealing a set of colorfully wrapped Lollipops to the young boy. "Hello and Welcome To Lionsgate Bank. Would you like some candy, young sir?"

Surely... at this moment he had just became a man...

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxL o c a t i o n / / That Hermit Cottage in the Glen
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI n n e r T h o u g h t s / / Stupid Things...

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"Mama..."Sometimes, life was utterly unfair. One could spend the whole of their being doing their utmost best to NOT do anything at all, and yet things still happen to them in return. "Mama..." All sorts of things, mind you. Good things. Bad things. Annoying things. Things one should ignore. It was a neverending cycle of things that rolled in one right after the other that made life seem so utterly and helplessly unfair. "Mama!!!" Such as now... when there was this horribly adorable little boy with eyes of ruby and hair of muted green standing outside of China's very warm and very comfortable bed, insistently whispering into her ear despite her groans and mumbled death threats to come back at a later more suitable time; like when the sun had set. Another rock of her shoulder, another firm push on the bed, and one more ever courageous "Mama!!!!" sent the petite and thoroughly grumpy young woman curling on her side and pulling the sheets down over her head, honey almond eyes glaring poison into the soul of the small child who could only grin sunshine at her in his accomplishment of waking his beloved mother up.

"What..." Even ice from the far tundras of the North couldn't freeze as her voice did, and yet all the little boy do in response was stare at her with those wide ever-happy eyes and grin lovingly up at his maternal figure; neither withering from her looks that promised physical harm or the tone of her voice which promised pain.

"It's morning! Good Morning Mama!" And this was where those things that China had been thinking about earlier came into ruining her usually very placid and lazy life. An attempt to hold her anger from melting at that adorable glowing affection radiating off the little ball of sunshine was futile as she felt her shoulders sag and her glare soften into a tired half-baked glower, and running a hand through her bed mused locks she tugged her feet from the tangle of bedsheets and swung them over the side onto the floor grumbling a defeated 'Good Morning' in return. Shuffling rather gracelessly in undergarments and one sock (the other having been claimed as a casualty of war against the dreaded bed sheets) the young jeweler groped about her kitchen clumsily until she had set the decanter on the burner to start the beautiful brew that was her coffee.

A catlike stretch held her arms up over her head as about her legs and waist the little blazing ball of energy known as Jaquzzi swept through the small kitchen preparing the simpler fixings of breakfast. Plates on the table, cheese and bread from the pantry, fruits and berries in a bowl; in the amount of time it took China to stretch, lift her shift to scratch an itch on her inner thigh, yawn, and look downright grumpily outside at the slowly rising sun the little boy had all but prepared breakfast by himself and now sat quietly at the table, swinging his feet as they dangled off the side of the stool. Slowly shifting her eyes from the window to the small boy, China could already feel the dread seep into her soul at whatever had him in such a bright and happy mood. Fixing herself a cup of coffee and in turn fetching the boy milk from a pitcher (thank god for cold enchantments), she sat on her own stool opposite of the little boy and placed their beverages in their appropriate places.

And so the meal began, the small boy immediately diving into the bread and cheese as China sipped quietly at her mug of warm delicious god-addicted brew. A moment passed, then another, and shyly the little boy raised his eyes expectantly at his slouching companion; causing another ounce of dread to sluggishly dart through her body. They held each others gazes for a while; China arching her eyebrow delicately as if asking the boy what he wanted as the little boy continued to pin the girl down with his own gaze just begging to be asked what. Jaquzzi was a little boy though, and as such it didn't take long before he started to shift and shiver in his chair as his little body near filled up with suspense and the need to explode. Sighing softly, for China knew exactly what sort of agony this would bring her in the end, the petite woman placed her mug of coffee back on the table top and addressed the tortured young man. "What did you want to do today, JaqJaq?"

And so poured forth a waterfall of activities the little munchkin wanted to complete, from exploring the nearby wood to chasing down little rabbits and probably heading to the nearest market. Oh, and it didn't end there. Arts, Crafts, Baking, Stargazing, Cloud Watching; as the list grew longer and longer China could only stare blankly at the boy before standing back up and going to reheat her decanter for yet another much needed cup of coffee while all the while damning those stupid Things.

,... Idiotic, Life-Altering, Making-It-IMPOSSIBLE-To-Sleep-In, Stupid Things.

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xxi t' sxxa l r e a d yxxe x c e e d i n g
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❤♨❤ O.O.C. ❤♨❤
.....

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

Player: LimeyRizFizzle
Full Name: Roy Ilian Delinare
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Men. Women. They both have holes that fit my needs. I don't care either way
Age: 32
Occupation: Medical Director and Head Physician of Power City General Hospital
Affiliation: Are you joking. Your trivial disputes of land don't concern me. Step on my property though and attempt to claim it as your own, and I'll hang you off a billboard by your small intestine.
Items: Gin and my Brass Knuckles
Likes:
√ Gin and Tonic // I drink. You have a problem? Go somewhere else.
√ Sweet Slow Burn // Smoking is an addiction. I like to feel that burn.
√ Step Back // I don't care if it's a crowded room, as long as I don't have people pushing into my space and just begging for my attention, I'm fine.
√ Crimson Life // I like the color when it's freshly spilled, the way it looks so pretty against pale skin and parted lips.
√ Screams // Louder. That's all I have to say, Louder.
√ Afternoon Delights // I want to paint the shadows with your moans and spear myself into your soul till the only thing that can pass your parted lips are the broken Syllables of my name.
√ Show Your Battle Wounds // I have them. You have them. Show me that you're not as fragile as you look. Show me when you break, you can stand up and go
Dislikes:
✗ Trivial Matters // If it doesn't concern me, don't make it my concern.
✗ Gentle Hands // I want to feel it when I'm touched. Don't be Timid. It'll just make me want to break you faster.
✗ Pure and White // It just reminds me how much better painted in red you'd be.
✗ Bands of Gold // I can't give you that. You want it rough, you want it hard, you want to feel dirty, used, and alive. I can do that. But Forever? Save your Forevers for someone else.
✗ Shadows of the Past // I've done a lot of things in my life, most of them no normal person would be proud of. I've done my best to tie up loose ends, but sometimes a man forgets how many lives he has ruined. So when another vengeful soul shows up on my door step, you can imagine just how tired I am of being disturbed.
✗ Cover Yourself // Confidence is sexy. Slutty outfits are not. A woman should be dressed like a present you want to unwrap. Not with her assets dripping out of her scrapes of fabric she calls 'clothes'.
Personality:
Let's set a few things straight. I don't care what you have to say, so shut up. I don't care if bedding an older man is your dream, close your legs. I don't care if you're the baddest b***h or the s**t where you come from, to me you're nothing but another tally on my scoreboard and a way to make ends meet. Now that we've got that out of the way, let me tell you how I am. I am a man of great pride and confidence who uses his fists before he uses his words. I don't bother talking to many outside of work, and quite frankly I only talk there because I have to. I like my space. I like my smokes. I like meaningless sex. You don't like it? Go weep about it, carve it into your skin with a knife, and jump off the tallest building you can find. At the very least you won't be wasting any more air.

They say I appear quiet. They say it's part of my mysterious charm. My quiet expression and my silent yet graceful movements something to be watched as if a pianist as he makes love to his ivory. I think such romantic sediment is bullshit, and in truth I am merely a man who couldn't be bothered to waste my time on useless, trivial, sniveling wastes of time. Such as your feelings or your emotions. I have this disinterested expression to my face and a sort of half-frown on my mouth that is an almost constant. The only time it ever changes is when I find something that perks my day, I'm about to kill you, and sometimes when I ********. Don't think just because I take you to my bed that means you get special treatment. You aren't the first one this week, you won't be the last.
History: Look up in your history books and you'll probably hear to story of a man named Stitch. Some portray him as a Villain, others as a Hero; but what it boils down to is something rather simple. He was a man. I've done a lot of things in my past I don't find worth mentioning, ruined a lot of lives so that others could live better and destroyed a lot of futures in the name of Justice. Ever story has two sides, I won't say I'm a Saint because I'm not. If anything, I'm a demon. I was Military once upon a time when being Super didn't mean having hormonally driven kids running about blowing up Buildings in the afternoon. I was a doctor, just as much as I was an interrogator. My favorite form of torture was a rather simple one, I'd hand stitch red thread soaked in poison across the flesh of my victims in little crisscross patterns, like a Surgical Suture. There's a sort of exquisite pain that comes from the prolonged tug and pull of strings through your flesh. Nothing so deep as to ruin your organs, but still deep enough where your skin pulls and your brain tingles. Not to mention how damn pretty they looked afterwords, covered head to toe in ribbons of blood. But like I said, that's another time. I thought I had retired from that life only to be called up and at a hospital that would be dealing with the wounded Supers from both the Institution and the Detention Center. Well, what used to be the Institution and the Detention Center.

You could say gathering so many supers in one place was a s**t-faced decision for the government, and when one to many bubbling pots of hormonally-driven super humans was tossed into the mix the result was utter chaos. I didn't pack and leave town though. Why should I? Where else am I going to find this much destruction and mayhem? Where else would I be in my element? My hospital is still well-funded and well fed. I always get my fill of screams, pleasurable and pained. And in truth, I think I like the idea of going down in blazing glory. Till then, that's the way it is and that's how I'll stay. Don't pretend to be the boss of my territory though, or else I'll gently "remind" you that being super doesn't mean I can't make you my little b***h.
What makes you special?:My attack ability comes from my own hard work and natural talents. I am a fighter who prefers his fists and a gun over that of wires or knives. I'm a solid fire, you come to me. I won't come to you. Get in my range of motion and you're most likely /dead/. Besides that, I am who I am. Figure it out yourself.
If you had a theme song too...: Hero: Chad Kroeger
Other:

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

╔════════════════════════════════╗

☠ яoy ʠelinare Ὶlian ☠

Shut Your Dribbling Pity Hole

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C o o r d i n a t e s ;; MidTown - Power City General - Third Floor - Head Directors Office
T h o u g h t s ;; ******** the Sunlight.

It was Hot and Sticky, the kind of situation that made clothes cling to skin and your breath lay heavy in your lungs. It was Wet and Tight, the feel of velvet that dragged and suffocated as it slipped and slid against you. It was Noisy and Loud, the ruckus of deep-stated moans and the slap of skin against skin melting into the darkness to echo with all those instances that came before.It was primal. It was instinctive. It was the very basic of being male, of being human, of being alive.

And in truth... it was starting to get rather boring.

Slouched back into the comforts of his office chair, the Medical Director and Head Physician himself leaned back and assessed the skills of one of his newest hires to the Nursing Department as she bent down upon her knees and prayed her religion with soft lips upon his more delicate parts. Stacy, he thought her name was. No, maybe Rachael? It was so hard to keep up with all the new additions, when just as many become casualties in the cruelest and unusual ways. Catering to budding Supers can lead to all sorts of mishaps, such as being quartered and having each section end up on opposite points of the compass. Ah. Wait. That was Rachael... which made this Madena?

A particularly hard suckle caused a sharp intake of breath to pass his thoughtful frown, wiping clean from his mind whatever possible breakthrough he might have had and instead leaving a dull thud of annoyance budding in the back of his brain. It wasn't that his personal-oral-vacuum was bad at what she was doing. If anything, she was relatively skilled. She must have preformed the act in practice many times before with a number of partners to garden the familiarity she had with his anatomy. Despite that fact though, she wasn't anything special. She wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before. That alone was reason enough for him to consider the mild distraction more of a hindrance rather than the moment of escape it should have been. Surely there was something more productive he could be doing than maintaining a standing ovation for a performance that hardly enticed an applause. Like... drinking Gin. Ah, that sounded like a good alternative. But that alternative required using his legs to cross the room, and seeing as he was pinned at the pelvis by the embodiment of wanton indulgence there was only one clear option to obtain his new medically-deduced want.

"Ya done yet?" His voice seemed to startle the young woman to attention, her eyes tilting upright though her mouth still wrapped firmly around it's current object of fascination. Really, she must have been a professional. Tilting his head towards the side table where his crystal of Gin stood proud and tall, he waited for her to avert her gaze. "... Something to make the waiting worth while."

The next set of actions were so customary as a response that Roy was more than ready to respond. First, her pupils widened as she digested the information of what his words truly meant; she was boring him. Then, she jerked back off his jutting length and hastily began to straighten her clothes, glaring at him as if he was the most indecent and inconsiderate of individuals while he carefully zipped himself back him and wondered just when she would remember it was she who was on her knees, and not him. Last, just as he stood up and smoothed down the front of his buttoned down shirt, she would shrill on about something or another that regarded respect and morals before raising a hand to bring down across his cheek in the righteous form of female assertion, the slap. It was at the slap that Roy made his stand, because in truth he didn't care if you called him a heartless b*****d or a douche bag. He probably was. However, he would not let a scalded whore in heat mark his face just because she didn't tickle his fancy and he wasn't a gentleman about letting her know it.

His hand wrapped around a thin pale wrist, clenching down to feel the blood flow through the veins slow. Those very same eyes that once regarded him with disdain now did so with surprise a flicker of fear as he painfully lead her to the door of his office, panties still askew and breasts dripping from her uniform, only to be tossed into the hallway for all the public and hospital employees to view. She fumbled as she was released into society's view, and flushing red as if a virgin newly defiled red flushed down her cheeks as she moved to cover her less-than-appreciated parts and fled to the safety of some dark corner or crevice to nurse her wounded pride and paint him as the dark perpetrator that had wronged her. And though people would pretend to pity her, sympathize with her, the truth would always be standard. People knew why a new nurse would enter Roy's office without official business, and they also knew why they'd leave humiliated as they were. It was no secret what kind of man Roy was, and in turn it was no surprise what kind of women came stumbling half naked from his quarters.

Was he sorry? Just about as much as he was ashamed of his actions. In other words, not a ******** ounce.

Dragging a hand through his shaggy hair, he shut the door to his office behind him and made his way back to his beloved gin. Ah, Gin. Never did it disappoint. Pouring it simple over ice he cracked open the blinds of the office window and took a peek outside at the crumble and decay that was Power City, wincing a bit as the bright sunlight assaulted his eyes. Grunting in displeasure, he decided that it was too god damn ******** bright for such a screwed up city and shut the blinds closed once again. Too bright for all the broken bodies that dared to crowd his rooms. Too bright for the morgue that was overflowing from back stock. Too bright for the line of bloodied that waited in the ER. Too Bright for Roy. Downing the rest of his Gin in fire and ash, he tugged on his medical coat, pushed through his office door, and started down into the hell and brimstone that was Power City General.

The Doctor is on Scene.

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[Panda--PUNCH--x]

ｗｈｅｒｅxxxｔｈｅｙxxxｓｔａｎｄ

xxxx T Y R O N E xxxx T Y S O N xxxx



A b***h, In Every Sense:

There aren't many people Roy would say he trusted to have his back. To be in his bed, yes, to want to murder him, yes, but to loyally stand at his side? No. Those were far and few. It didn't bother him any either. Having people who called you your friend tended to work an angle, tended to have something they wanted in return. He didn't do that. He took what he wanted and made his own. That is what was so surprising about the young man with one hand who came under his wing after the tragedy of his past. Tyrone Tyson was never a man Roy had tolerated. As a teenager he was constantly inside the hospital, never for his own injuries but to hassle those of the less-durable China. He was always on top of buildings hip-thrusting in the spotlight, and always taking the world head on like he owned it. It was that arrogance at such a young age that made the kid so disliked in Roy's opinion, and the loss of his hand that made him so humble.

In the weeks that followed stitching back together the injured man, Roy watched a transformation go into full swing that started the moment graduation came and NinjaNinja's right-hand pint-sized mega mind had left. The transformation from smart-mouthed kid to contemplative adult, from eager to be remembered pup to never-forgotten wolf. The operations to give him a working, solid, hand in turn made him turn to a new path in life; one in the hospital. Where it would have taken a normal man of normal intelligence about eight to ten years to complete the coursework needed to be a doctor, Tyrone decided to take a more hands on approach and followed Roy through procedures inside Power City General to gain his knowledge. After Roy had felt comfortable that the kid wouldn't do stupid things on a whim and could handle the more basic routines on his own, he allowed him lead to work on patients. Though labeled a Doctor, Tyrone never legally gained the title. But that isn't so bad, after all the Hospital itself isn't legal and the city is hardly considered under government rule. Who'd care either way? Though Roy wouldn't consider Tyrone a friend, because Friends just weren't what they were, he did consider Tyrone loyal. He'd get what he told him to get, he'd do what he told him to do, he'd be there when called. A b***h, in every sense of a dog to it's master. And from Roy, that's a compliment.

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

xx

✉ ╯ T - THE KID-FRIENDLY HOSTESS™ »»☆
xxxxxxxxViridian Dezdemay

xx

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

✉ - - ❛ T - THE BASICS ❜ »»

✉ ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ S - SENDING FILES!


001. xxx Viridian Dezdemay
002. xxx Viri & Viri-Chan
003. xxx 24
004. xxx Undoubtedly Female !!
005. xxx Human, with all the Advantages
006. xxx Spanish-American. From Spain.
007. xxx 4'11'' with Boots. 4'9'' Without.
008. xxx 97 lbs
009. xxx All the Shades of Green
010. xxx A Garnet Red
011. xxx Part-Time Waitress of Happy Time Cafe, Part-Time Cashier of BB Convenience Store, Part-Time Karaoke Hostess at Plastic Pink, Full-Time Day-Dreaming Busy Body !!



✉ ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ D - DOWNLOADING FILES!

Rachel Platten - 1000 Ships
Chris Rice -Lemonade

❝ SEE! OUR HANDS FIT PERFECTLY TOGETHER! YOU BELONG, RIGHT HERE !! ❞

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

✉ - - ❛ P - PERSONALITY & BACKGROUND ❜ »»

✉ ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ S - SCANNING!


Give me a list of personality traits
along with a description of each one.
Make sure you have at least three
good and three bad. You can have
as many points as you please.



✉ ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ S - SEARCHING!



Make a list of your background
instead of writing out paragraphs.
You can be as detailed as you
want, but I want at least seven
points in the history. If you are
not partnered up yet, feel free
to make things up and let the
person that becomes your
partner know what points you
made so that you can match
backgrounds. If you need any
other help, please ask me.

❝ INDIFFERENT CHARACTER QUOTE HERE ❞

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

[ M ] a l i k

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[ P ] ~~~ Corruption

[ T ] ~~~ Go

[ O ] ~~~ Destruction

[ R ] ~~~ On

[ W ] ~~~ Insanity

[ I ] ~~~ And

[ E ] ~~~ Brutality

[ P ] ~~~ Dance

[ R ] ~~~ Slaughter

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

L o c a t i o n ;; Clayton and Berber Industrial Park
T h o u g h t s ;; ... I wish you'd talk like that in a non-professional manner~

"Malik, it's to tight. Stop pushing so hard."

A breathy sigh, stained with frustration, brushed past Malik's ear, causing the short hairs at the nape of his neck to stand at avid attention. Eyes the color of citron and firelight glanced towards the origin of the comment, lips turning at the corners in a suggestive coy smirk. It appeared his current partner wasn't enjoying the rough play of their current situation, and though the man of sand and sun should have known better than to push his luck it would just be no fun if he couldn't put some weight on the rules. "It'll slide in a little easier if you just relax, baby~"

Cold solid metal rested at the nape of his neck as an audible click of safety switching off echoed in the still air, letting the man know just how well appreciated his suggestive joke was. "Hey now, watch it. That bit you're poking is kinda important." A bump of his palm up against the back end of the pick lodged the metal point deep into the deadbolt, shattering the inner mechanism of the recently "found" brief case and all of the classified contents it just so happened to contain. Ah, the fine work of lifting and than breaking into things that weren't yours to begin with. Such small tasks, such a feeling of accomplishment. The weight of the gun pressed against the back of his neck lifted as his disgruntled and very male partner flopped gracelessly into the booth opposite of his; the rest of the background fading into the view as a dank little diner with yellow grimy lighting and a prime and picturesque window view of Industrial Park under the rain. Surely, some blind artist somewhere was just inspired to drink.

On the linoleum table between them a plate with a half-eaten sandwich and two mugs of touched coffee sat; innocent in the whole situation of espionage and criminal activity occurring around them. A stack of receipts, a wad of cash, several fabricated official documents and legal papers, and a Flash Drive quickly invaded their personal space as the contents of the brief case was emptied, and then unceremoniously tossed somewhere to the side to gather dust and be forgotten. Not even 14 hours in the crap heap that was Nexus City and already he and his trigger-happy coworker were making good on their job. Of course, that poor suit now pleasantly part of the cement base of construction zone 131 probably not nearly as happy with their progress. Ah well. They'd write it off as a Business Expense.

Taking a bite out of the neglected and abused sandwich, he tossed the Flash Drive to the other side of the table, leaving the techy stuff to the gunman. Shuffling through the various files and tidbits of paper left to him, Malik began dividing them up into things of importance and things that could be used to wipe his bodily fluids with. After all, recycling was all the rage. It was only right he do his part.

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxL o c a t i o n / / ...On... a Roof? Somewhere... left?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI n n e r T h o u g h t s / / I (huff) hate (wheeze) physical (gasps) activity.... (dies)

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Karma... must have been on Holiday. That was the single thought that flashed through China's mind as her back bounced off the wooden slats that made up one side of the rather narrow alley she found herself in. The air rushed out of her lungs from the force of the impact, leaving in its wake a slightly pained wheeze. Three low sets of chuckles and sneers met her ears as she peered up through the strewn strands of her honey almond lock, eyes of amber focusing in on three broad shouldered figures that stood before her. Swords at their sides, smirks on their mouths, hands just dying to cause harm; yup... Karma was near spitting on her today. "Well then, that's a far more suiting look for you, little girl." The shuffle of boots on moist dirt brought the figure in the center forward and into the light. Obviously, he was the leader. He wasn't a large man; stocky for his build but definitely not of a solid nature. From his common clothes to his common manner nothing stood out to China that would deem him as anything sparkly. Except... for maybe his facial hair. Surely someone was missing their cat, cause this man had nailed the poor thing to the area around his mouth. He stroked what she assumed was the cat's back and circled to her side, resting his arm above her head. "... And to think, all of this could have been avoided if only you had apologized, little girl."

Apologized. For what? What did she do today that required apologizing? Besides near blinding a Gate Guard with the whiteness of her undergarments, swindling half the Morning Market, using the harvest of her swindling to swindle some more, lying to a merchant about a child who pick-pocketed her, and then swindling some more to make up for that act of brilliance; she had been a near perfect visitor to this fine kingdom! All she did after was buy some coffee...

Oh... Yeah. Her coffee...

Her gaze traveled down from cat-beard to a neat little brown stain on the lapel of the mans shirt, the scene only moments before replaying in her mind. A careless bump, a spray of hot liquid, a curse followed by a demand for an apology, and when she asked what for... they ended up here. The injustice. Oh, that reminded her. Delicate lips pulled into a thoughtful frown as they met the gaze of cat-mouth-man and his lackeys. "... Why should I apologize. Your shirt drank my coffee. I think it owes me some money." Her tone was flat and serious, not a hint of mirth or fear tinging the sweeter tones. For a moment, it seemed to gobsmack the man into silence. Unfortunately, that moment didn't last long. His boisterous laughter filled the air as he brought his hand heavy against the top of her head, ruffling her hair into an even more glamorous sweep. Yeah, laugh. That'll fix everything.

Drowning out the rest of his words as he belittled her comment and restated that she should be the one reimbursing him, she focused instead on the movements of his counterparts. Each took a stand blocking either way in the alley, hands on their weapons in case she should move. Even the p***y cat eater rested his palm on his hilt, a promise that he would get what he wanted. She wasn't made for this kind of stress. Really, look at her size. Surely she'd keel over from it all. Deciding yet again screaming at the top of her lungs would not only get her gutted but would make doing business that much harder, the petite jewelry maker decided on a lesser evil. One she hated, but was still lesser. Motioning for the cat-man to lean down, she tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear and fingered the pearl earring that hung from it thoughtfully. The gesture caught his eye, as it was intended to do, and with a low whistle he commented on how it would do damn well as an apology. Feeling her lips quirk from her frown into it's customary feline smirk, she slowly lowered her eyes as the pearl took on a soft glow. A soft string of words in fluid tongue passed her lips and the alley was flooded with a blast of blinding white light and the screams of three very surprised pissed off men.

There was a scramble of limbs and curse words as hands searched sightless for one who had taken the opportunity to shimmy up the closest wall and onto the roof of the nearest building. Pausing for only a moment to appreciate the sound of blinded men cursing little orange-haired pixies, she started to pick her way along the thatched roof in search of solider footing. Not everyone in the city would be so easy to duck from as her modest guard and her cat-munching thugs. The faster she got off the roofs... the better.

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xxa n dxxixxs a i dxxt h a txxk i n dxxo fxxt a l k
xxo n l yxxa d d sxxi n t r i g u e
xxt oxxt h exxc a u l d r o nxxo fxxt h o u g h t
xxi t' sxxa l r e a d yxxe x c e e d i n g
xxt e m p t a t i o nxxt h exxv e r yxxt h i n gxxt h a txxh e l dxxh e rxxb a c k

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❤♨❤ O.O.C. ❤♨❤
.....

[Panda--PUNCH--x]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxL o c a t i o n / / Back on Base
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI n n e r T h o u g h t s / / If I was taller, you'd be in trouble.

xxxxx If there was one thing China could give her newly appointed watch dog, it was that he was quick to resolve issues. Especially money issues. One flash of a seal from a Titan and bam, he was back on the streets pounding the pavement for her. It didn't take long for him to find her. It appeared that not only was he quick to resolve his issues, he was quick to enforce his orders as well. Something about a Titan General blah blah New Pilots Blah Blah and Good Impressions.

Blah Blah.

Overall, it had made his rattling almost annoying as she dug through compartment boxes. She would have told him so as well; but he was her money source. Better to not piss off the pursestrings. He had started off again on some tangent about the importance of following the directive of taking her back to base. Something about a scout being downed, something about the streets being filled with rebels, something about how if she were to be identified and picked up her life could be in danger. The last part was Bull. It wasn't like her face was too widely known. Sure, she was good at what she did; but she wasn't famous.

Her resolve to ignore her pet puppy though seemed to finally engage what testosterone the Titans had yet to beat out of him, and just as she had found something pleasantly shiny to garden her attention she had felt the forbidden touch. Hands laid themselves around her waist, and lifted. Her body froze, every muscle tensing as she was heaved up off her feet and gracelessly draped over his shoulder like a bag of cement. Her eyes focused in on the back of a Military Mint suit and heels on pavement as they moved out of the junk heap she spent so much effort trying to find and back onto the main street heading back towards the Base. He was lucky she was at the moment to stiff and off balance to do anything about the situation; otherwise he'd be all sorts of in pain...


❤♨❤ O.O.C. ❤♨❤
Hah! Sack of China-Tatos.