★ ☆ newtestbabeh [ no postingg ] ██████▌

I made a poll just because I wanted 14 gold.

Good for you.	100.0%	[ 110 ]
Total Votes:			[ 110 ]

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

{ Me: G r a p e y m a n g o -
{ He/She: Anthony Marcello Belvidere
{ So they call me: The Experienced Little Bugger
{ Years: Twenty five - as I'm not applying for college like the rest of the students, I'm older than everyone else. Can you say "Experience"?
{ Sex: Male
{ Look-it: From the photo album
{ Little ol’ me?: I'm Anthony Belvidere.

Don't call me Tony or anything - been there, done that, hate it. Just Anthony.

Anyways. I was a relatively normal kid - grew up in Philly, was in a family of four, went to school, the whole nine yards. I had an older brother, Gino, who was the king of ******** up his life; he smoked anything you could light for him, snorted whatever would fit up his nose, drank whatever had enough alcohol to knock him out for a day or three... Yeah. He made me look normal.

But that isn't the point here - you want to know about me.

So, for the first ten years of my life, I basically spent all of my time hanging with my friends and listening to music whenever I could. Because, you know, what kind of ten-year-old boy doesn't love Led Zeppelin? Eventually, my mom and dad got tired of me trying to sing along to the songs I didn't know very well, so they got me the best gift of my life - the cheap-o iPod Shuffle. Granted, an iTouch would have made me a lot happier today, but hey. I was ten and a Shuffle seemed like a gift from God, so I wasn't about to complain.

So my life continued to flow, Gino getting into trouble for God Knows What, my parents trying their best to shape me into a normal kid regardless... I basically ignored all of them for my iPod, my new replacement mom. Of course, I still loved my real mom (I'm not a mama's boy, shut up), but the iPod didn't yell at me when I didn't clean my room.

Regardless. Life went on. When I was thirteen or so, I asked my parents for a drum set - it was kind of random. I'd been thinking about being in my own band for a while, and since I couldn't - and can't - hold a tune, I figured an instrument was the way to go. And hey. Everyone plays the guitar those days. I wanted to stand out.

Mom and Dad, ecstatic I'd finally found a dream, signed me up for lessons at a local music store, promising they'd buy me a drum set once I learned how to carry a steady rhythm. According to my teacher, that day came sooner than they thought; I was about fifteen when I finally got drums of my own. It was the very next day I began rounding up people from school to start a band - it ended up being me, a boy named Elijah, our vocalist, Tonya, our base guitarist, and Melanie, our electric guitarist. We were "Striking Disaster", a name I was never very fond of, but my girlfriend at the time came up with it and I just decided to go with the flow.

So, for a couple years, we were, literally, the s**t.

Everyone at school was in love with our band. Eli was a great singer, and the music behind him wasn't too shabby, either. We played for dances, for birthday parties - small gigs like that. We were nothing, really, compared to the big-time performers today, but everyone around us told us we were the coolest thing since sliced bread, and we believed them.

It was around that time I got into drugs.

I do hate to shift the blame, but it really is my brother's fault - he was a bad influence, and my parents spent so much time yelling at him, they never gave me the proper education about what marijuana can do to your life. Gino was also the one who offered me the pot in the first place - told me that all of the drummers these days smoked - and I was so morbidly curious, I couldn't bear to say no.

Naturally, I got addicted. I was into pot for about one or two years, and I kept it a secret from the rest of the band. I didn't want them to kick me out because I was high all the time, and, while I'm sure most of them knew, they turned a blind eye for the longest time.

But one day, Elijah caught me smoking before a rehearsal, and he just kind of snapped. Socked me right in the eye, and told me to quit or he'd make me.

I wasn't about to find out what he would do to force me to drop the habit, so I did so myself. The whole withdrawal-going-to-counseling-thing took another year or so - hard habit to break - and by the time I finally was clean, the band had broken off. Elijah, three years my senior, had long since graduated high school, skipped college, and ended up settling down with a pretty third-grade teacher, leaving the rest of the band to scrounge up their own lives. I had already decided trying to get a career in music was pointless, considering the mess I got myself into the first time, so I took the easiest college course I could think of, culinary arts, and went back into "go with the flow" mode.

A year after my graduation, I got a call from Tonya, asking for one last performance with the band, for old time's sake. I figured, "Why not?" and we all met at this local bar to sing one last song.

Little did I know, there was a talent scout from Derek Johnston hidden in the crowd.

So, after the performance, he came up and offered me a ten-year contract to be the drummer for the students in DJC. I felt kind of bad for just leaving the band hanging like that, but it was the DJC, and I wasn't about to let an opportunity like that pass. I had heard about their application process, and decided it'd be pretty interesting to get to play for all of the poor saps who would have to go through hell to get in - I was excited to start.

The first year at my new job flew by, and I was flabbergasted. I was completely wrong; hell was not any way to describe applying at Derek Johnston.

Hell would have been much easier.
{ Him/Her: The Drum Sticks of Doom

[list][list][list][color=#59392f][size=10][b]{ Me:[/b][color=#5b2d32] G r a p e y m a n g o - [/color]
[b]{ He/She:[/b][color=#5b2d32] Anthony Marcello Belvidere [/color]
[b]{ So they call me:[/b] [color=#5b2d32] The Experienced Little Bugger [/color]
[b]{ Years:[/b] [color=#5b2d32]Twenty five - as I'm not applying for college like the rest of the students, I'm older than everyone else. Can you say "Experience"? [/color]
[b]{ Sex:[/b] [color=#5b2d32] Male[/color]
[b]{ Look-it:[/b] [color=#5b2d32] [url=http://i483.photobucket.com/albums/rr196/Shhgraphics/etc/ANTHONATOR.png][color=#71593f][u][color=#d2433c]From[/color][/u][/color][/url] the photo album[/color]
[b]{ Little ol’ me?:[/b] [color=#5b2d32]I'm Anthony Belvidere.

Don't call me Tony or anything - been there, done that, hate it. Just Anthony.

Anyways. I was a relatively normal kid - grew up in Philly, was in a family of four, went to school, the whole nine yards. I had an older brother, Gino, who was the king of ******** up his life; he smoked anything you could light for him, snorted whatever would fit up his nose, drank whatever had enough alcohol to knock him out for a day or three... Yeah. He made [i]me[/i] look normal.

But that isn't the point here - you want to know about me.

So, for the first ten years of my life, I basically spent all of my time hanging with my friends and listening to music whenever I could. Because, you know, what kind of ten-year-old boy doesn't love Led Zeppelin? Eventually, my mom and dad got tired of me trying to sing along to the songs I didn't know very well, so they got me the best gift of my life - the cheap-o iPod Shuffle. Granted, an iTouch would have made me a lot happier today, but hey. I was ten and a Shuffle seemed like a gift from God, so I wasn't about to complain.

So my life continued to flow, Gino getting into trouble for God Knows What, my parents trying their best to shape me into a normal kid regardless... I basically ignored all of them for my iPod, my new replacement mom. Of course, I still loved my real mom (I'm not a mama's boy, shut up), but the iPod didn't yell at me when I didn't clean my room.

Regardless. Life went on. When I was thirteen or so, I asked my parents for a drum set - it was kind of random. I'd been thinking about being in my own band for a while, and since I couldn't - and can't - hold a tune, I figured an instrument was the way to go. And hey. [i]Everyone[/i] plays the guitar those days. I wanted to stand out.

Mom and Dad, ecstatic I'd finally found a dream, signed me up for lessons at a local music store, promising they'd buy me a drum set once I learned how to carry a steady rhythm. According to my teacher, that day came sooner than they thought; I was about fifteen when I finally got drums of my own. It was the very next day I began rounding up people from school to start a band - it ended up being me, a boy named Elijah, our vocalist, Tonya, our base guitarist, and Melanie, our electric guitarist. We were "Striking Disaster", a name I was never very fond of, but my girlfriend at the time came up with it and I just decided to go with the flow.

So, for a couple years, we were, literally, the [i]s**t[/i].

[i]Everyone[/i] at school was in love with our band. Eli was a great singer, and the music behind him wasn't too shabby, either. We played for dances, for birthday parties - small gigs like that. We were nothing, really, compared to the big-time performers today, but everyone around us told us we were the coolest thing since sliced bread, and we believed them.

It was around that time I got into drugs.

I do hate to shift the blame, but it really is my brother's fault - he was a bad influence, and my parents spent so much time yelling at him, they never gave me the proper education about what marijuana can do to your life. Gino was also the one who offered me the pot in the first place - told me that [i]all[/i] of the drummers these days smoked - and I was so morbidly curious, I couldn't bear to say no.

Naturally, I got addicted. I was into pot for about one or two years, and I kept it a secret from the rest of the band. I didn't want them to kick me out because I was high all the time, and, while I'm sure most of them knew, they turned a blind eye for the longest time.

But one day, Elijah caught me smoking before a rehearsal, and he just kind of snapped. Socked me right in the eye, and told me to quit or he'd [i]make[/i] me.

I wasn't about to find out what he would do to force me to drop the habit, so I did so myself. The whole withdrawal-going-to-counseling-thing took another year or so - hard habit to break - and by the time I finally was clean, the band had broken off. Elijah, three years my senior, had long since graduated high school, skipped college, and ended up settling down with a pretty third-grade teacher, leaving the rest of the band to scrounge up their own lives. I had already decided trying to get a career in music was pointless, considering the mess I got myself into the first time, so I took the easiest college course I could think of, culinary arts, and went back into "go with the flow" mode.

A year after my graduation, I got a call from Tonya, asking for one last performance with the band, for old time's sake. I figured, "Why not?" and we all met at this local bar to sing one last song.

Little did I know, there was a talent scout from Derek Johnston hidden in the crowd.

So, after the performance, he came up and offered me a ten-year contract to be the drummer for the students in DJC. I felt kind of bad for just leaving the band hanging like that, but it was [i]the[/i] DJC, and I wasn't about to let an opportunity like that pass. I had heard about their application process, and decided it'd be pretty interesting to get to play for all of the poor saps who would have to go through hell to get in - I was excited to start.

The first year at my new job flew by, and I was flabbergasted. I was completely wrong; hell was not any way to describe applying at Derek Johnston.

Hell would have been much easier.
[/color][b]{ Him/Her:[/b] [color=#5b2d32]The Drum Sticks of Doom[/color][/size][/color][/list][/list][/list]

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ( ✖ )

Thp thp. Thp thp.

Anthony frowned. The soft fabric of his jeans was not rigid enough to make a sturdy, drumming beat. It didn't matter how hard he tapped his legs with his index fingers; no steady sound could be created.

He eyed the drawstring backpack next to him - his drum sticks were inside, but he knew better than to bang them on the wooden bench he was sitting on. They'd be ruined.

He sighed. The contestants would show up soon, right?

Of course, it wasn't even as though he had any kind of agenda to follow - he was simply bored out of his mind, and figured that greeting the competitors for the Derek Johnston Scholarships would be a great time-killer. After all, they'd feel much more welcome and relaxed if someone were to show them around.

He snorted. Yeah, right.

Oh, they might feel welcomed. But if this competition were to be anything like last year's, he knew for a fact that as soon as these applicants met the people in charge, they'd get right out of refreshing-mode.

Those people were vicious.

Luckily for him, Anthony didn't have to worry about dealing with that kind of thing - he had gotten a ten-year contract with Derek Johnston two years ago, when he graduated from a small college with a degree in Culinary Arts. He wasn't really expecting to do anything with his life, obviously, but his band preformed just once in a local bar, and a scout just so happened to be there, and before he knew it, Anthony had a job at Derek Johnston.

He smiled. Ahh, nostalgia.

The squeaking of a bus in the nearby distance brought Anthony back to his senses. Like a puppy who was just offered a bone, Anthony's eyes and ears were alert, his bag slung over his shoulder. He took a mere second to confirm it was indeed his bus - well, Derek Johnston's bus - pulling onto the campus area before jumping off the bench in excitement.

Instead of going around the bench like a normal person, he simply jumped right over it, running towards the yellow vehicle. He was almost racing himself to get to it before the doors opened - a race he lost, but he came to the road before the first contestant stepped out.

"Hello there, and welcome to Derek Johnston. I'm Anthony Belvidere, the drummer for the band you'll be performing with, and I'll be doubling as your tour guide for the day." He grinned moronically - the contestants probably had no idea there wasn't supposed to be a tour, but hey. It wasn't as if this would get him in any sort of trouble. He waited until the rest of the contestants pooled out before continuing; the important part of his speech was next.

"We'll be starting off with the Auditoriums, just a short walk south from here. These stages are the ones you'll be singing on, accompanied by the amazing Anthony Belvidere Band of doom." He grinned again, hoping that the contestants would at least fake a laugh - his jokes never were very good. He had the maturity of a five-year-old, even though he was twenty years past that. He waited just a moment, his ego dying in the silence, before continuing with an awkward cough.

"Right-O! Follow me to your destiny!"

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

"Tell me {Sugah}, why you in a rush?
The world is waiting for you.
To come dome from the clouds above,"

Grapey,this is my first try! I'm having trouble with getting the image to the right corner and I'm adding more text.

[imgleft]http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u251/Ankarii/AnimeGuy3.jpg[/imgleft][align=right][color=#4F94CD]"Tell me [color=firebrick][u][color=violetred]{Sugah}[/color][/u][/color], why you in a rush?
The [color=#3CB371][u]world[/u][/color] is waiting for you.
To come dome from the [color=#B0E0E6][i]clouds[/i][/color] above,"[/color][/align]




[align=center][color=yellow][u][color=orange]Grapey,this is my first try! I'm having trouble with getting the image to the right corner and I'm adding more text.[/color][/u][/color][/align]

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

● ● Zodiac Character Profiles

Aries
Name: Jared
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Brief Description: Hopeless Romantic | Wimpy | Perseverance
Picture

Pisces
Name: Sofie
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Brief Description: Compulsive | Courageous | Vegetarian | lazy | Mischievous
Picture

Sagittarius
Name
Age
Gender
Brief Description
Picture

God
Name
Age
Gender
Brief Description
Picture

Aquarius
Name: Aiden
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Brief Description: Ladies' Man | Charismatic | Manwhore
Picture

Cancer
Name: Marianne
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Brief Description: Crabby (BADPUNLOL) | Neat-Freak | Smoker
Picture

Gemini 1
Name: Carrie
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Brief Description: Bubbly | Fake | Outgoing | Annoying
Picture

Gemini 2
Name: Andrea
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Brief Description: Sarcastic | Stubborn | Shy, in her own special way
Picture

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

RoxiRay Playlist - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ♪ } }

Stronger - Kanye West
Remember the Name - Fort Minor

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

"...Maybe a Steelix, or Poliwrath, or even a Solrock would be cool..."

Anthony Belvidere was talking to himself, hands stuffed in pockets, as he slowly guided himself to Professor Pine's lab. He had lived in Pineport all of his life, and always dreamed of the day his mom would allow him his very own Pokémon - his thirteenth birthday, as she promised.

Well, she was two years and six months overdue. But that didn't matter! Anthony was determined to become the next Pokémon Master! ...Only, that title sounded kind of lame, so he was aiming to be "Beastly Boss of All Things Pokémonly." No matter the title, he was aiming to be on top, and would do whatever it took to get there - starting off with getting his first Pokémon. The ones he was mumbling to himself before were a select few of the many he'd listed on his way to the lab; he obviously didn't realize that you had to start small in the Pokémon world.

Nevertheless, he pushed open the doors to the lab, taking in a deep breath like most people did in movies, as if a new place would smell better than the outside. The scent didn't change much, if at all - it was just a little cooler inside than out. Still, he strode over to the table, eyeing the posters for the Pokémon available.

"Pikachu... Marill... Oddish? Where are all the strong ones?" He whined, disappointed in his choices. There wasn't even a Hitmontop for him to take. Frowning, he pointed at a pokéball that was supposed to contain a Growlithe. "I suppose I'll settle for you..." After all, it'd eventually evolve into a big, strong Arcanine. Plus, it'd be kind of like a pet - he'd always wanted a small Pokémon as a kid. (Or a big one, or a medium one...) He turned to tap Professor Pine on the shoulder before the man went back to work.

"Hey, can I have one of the Growlithe...s..?" he asked, unsure of whether the correct plural term would have an S or not. Whatever. It wouldn't matter. He was aiming to be the Beastly Boss of All Things Pokémonly, not the Beastly Boss of All Things Grammatically Correct.

Pokémon Masters didn't have to study.

---

Before answering, Seth took a good moment to ponder a response to Leon’s facts. It took him longer to open his mouth because he couldn’t come up with a way to back down from the argument without looking like an idiot or coward; he didn’t have anything to say in his own defense, but he couldn’t just drop the subject when he had made such a big deal of it in the first place. “Oh,” he started, trying to buy himself more time, even if just a second’s worth. “Well, you didn’t tell me that before.” There. Now he had shifted the blame onto Leon – it wasn’t his fault he had been so ill-informed.

“Huh,” Seth said, pondering Leon’s embarrassed expression. He hadn’t meant for the question to be an accusation, but he seemed to have taken it that way. Of course, Leon probably could have been better at reading facial expressions than Seth gave him credit for – maybe he had seen the hint of blame in his eyes about the berry ordeal. “Huh,” Seth repeated. He chuckled a bit at Leon’s quick yelp to clear his name – this kid was a lot more perceptive than he gave him credit for. Seth nearly flinched at that thought, realizing that if Leon was so observant, it was quite likely his secret would be exposed soon. Seth shook his head, dismissing the thought. He wouldn’t be around Leon that long. Hopefully.

The Pikachu decided to play aerobics on Leon’s shoulder, and Seth laughed quietly then, too. Pikachu really were loveable creatures – he very nearly wanted one of his own. On the other hand, he’d be the laughingstock of Team Magma – thieves weren’t supposed to have cute, loveable Pokémon, after all. Still, having an adorable companion was one of the reasons why he hadn’t let Ruby evolve yet; she was capable of doing so, if only just barely, but he enjoyed having a Houndour more than he thought he’d enjoy having a Houndoom, no matter what the stat differences were.

His snicker didn’t last long, however, as Raoul quickly volunteered himself to go back into the ball. Every action Leon’s Pokémon seemed to make were more and more dangerous to his cover – he was at the point where he nearly wanted to yell in frustration. Still, he bit his tongue, determined to make this job flow smoothly. He noticed the glance Leon threw at Sinbad after withdrawling the Pikachu, and briefly considered offering to make the Mightyena retreat as well since he believed that was upsetting the Pokémon. On the other hand, when he did, and their attitudes continued, that would only cause more suspicion, and Seth simply couldn’t afford that right now. So he kept his mouth shut.

“I see,” Seth mused, careful not to look too curious about the Abra. If he did, it could do even more damage to his cover. Still, he was curious. “I suppose he’s very strong…” Most psychic Pokémon were – unless faced against a dark type, of course. Seth smirked, glad to know that he’d have an upper hand in battle against one of Leon’s strongest. It was mainly an issue with wanting to be the best, but he knew it would come in handy with his job.

He listened carefully to Leon’s response about the PC system – he seemed to have a slightly different opinion on how to raise his Pokémon than Seth did. “I suppose that’s true,” he started, “But I can’t help but think that if I were a Pokémon left in the PC, I’d feel left out, as if I weren’t strong enough for my trainer’s needs. I’m sure I’d be taken care of, but I dunno.” He shrugged. “I guess I’d just be too jealous of the other Pokémon in my trainer’s party.” It was this side of Seth – the part of him that cared for Pokémon as if they were human companions – that set him apart from the rest of Team Magma. All of the other grunts were always beaten right away because their bond with their party wasn’t strong enough; Seth would gladly put his life on the line for his. His team was taught only about strength of the body; they knew nearly nothing about the strength of the heart.

Seth merely shrugged as Leon complimented his Pokémon’s names – he didn’t think they were terrible, of course, but he could have spent more time to think of better ones. Oh well. It was too late to change their names now; he doubted Sinbad or Ruby would respond to anything else. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had named them Fluffy and Shnookums. Though it would have been funny, they would have been terrible names for his companions.

Leon mumbled something, and as Seth turned to ask him what he said, he noticed a trainer with green hair blocking the way to the nearest house. “Oh,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “That’s what you meant.” Now, Seth was exhausted, but he thought that Sinbad and Ruby could handle a battle – they were strong fighters, after all, and the extra berries must have helped give them more energy. “You gonna help me take him on, or shall I just finish him off myself?” A bit of Seth’s cockiness began to creep through; he had no idea the level of this trainer’s strength, yet was assuming he was an easy target. He didn’t see the matching green-haired girl nearby, of course, which might have made Seth rethink his words, but still. He could tell by a glance that his Pokémon were itching for a fight.

“This shouldn’t be too hard.” He grinned, but he didn’t see the nervous look in his Pokémon’s eyes. It seemed as though they weren’t as ready to battle as they looked…

---

Rain was pattering on the sidewalk, decorating the cement with interesting patterns. Jodie almost wanted to stop and examine them, but she knew that if she did, she'd become even more wet and bring water and mud into the Harrison's home. She was sure that Charles wouldn't mind, but his mother would probably hate to have to clean up the mess, and if her parents ever found out... She shuddered. Her father would explode if he found that she had brought a mess into another's house.

But still. It was Saturday! The thought of the beginning of her weekend brought a little skip in Jodie's step - weekends were her favorite. It was then that she got to spend a whole day at Charles's house - or he would come to her's - and they could spend a while doing whatever they pleased. Of course, she was supposed to be teaching him to be a gentlemen, but Charles's parents didn't understand how difficult a job that was for Jodie. Yes, she was quite proper, and yes, she knew all about etiquette, but it seemed as if Charles was one who simply did not want to learn. They were opposites, the two - Charles was childish and mischievous, whereas Jodie acted like a young woman and did exactly as was told of her. Despite their differences, however, Jodie still considered Charles her best friend.

And it was that friend that Jodie was headed off to see - though they lived in the same neighborhood, Jodie and Charles lived quite the distance away, and she had to walk in the rain to reach the house. She didn't mind the walk, normally, and rain wasn't exactly the biggest hazard she could encounter, but the rain paired with the chill of October was starting to get on her nerves. After all, Jodie had only brought a rain jacket with her; she wasn't expecting it to be so cold, as well. That was the weather for you - always unpredictable. Kind of like Charles, she thought, and it brought a smile to her lips.

Jodie continued the walk a bit more gracefully, now that she was approaching the Harrison's house. Charles's parents still believed that she was here to teach, not recreate, and she had to give off an aura that was suitable to their expectations. Surely they would begin to doubt her if they saw her sloshing in the puddles while she walked on the sidewalk. She laughed a little at the mental image, however, a bit tempted to start acting like a goof anyway just to draw that sort of attention. There was a clap of thunder, and this time, Jodie did jump; she wasn't expecting the drizzle to be turning into a storm. Surely enough, the rain began to fall harder, and she decided to quicken her pace so as to avoid being completely soaked by the time she finished her walk.

As she speed-walked towards the house, Jodie began to wonder what she and Charles were to do today. He'd probably be disappointed in the weather - he wasn't the type of boy to stay cooped up indoors, after all - and would try to cause some kind of havoc among the house. She'd have to try to stop him, of course, and would likely fail; she wasn't very good at keeping him in line, and had secretly given up trying a long time ago. She smiled again as she recalled the first time she had tried to prevent Charles from doing something "wrong"; she had gotten frustrated to the point of tears and vowed to never enter his house again.

But she came back.

Now, Charles's mayhem was simply part of her daily schedule - she dealt with it before school, after school, on the weekends... And sometimes even during school hours, when he'd play hooky and try to get her to come with him. Jodie had never accepted the invitation, of course, no matter how boring and unimportant the lesson was - her parents would kill her if she did, she just knew it. Even though her body stayed in class, however, she would always wonder what Charles would do all on his own...

She had arrived. Jodie walked up the driveway, so as to not upset the front lawn, and turned to the front pathway. She nearly slipped on a puddle along the way, but caught herself - Jodie was klutzy, in a way, but she always managed to prevent herself from actually falling. When she did stumble, however, it was usually a funny sight - seeing a teenage girl sprawled on the ground usually was, if she wasn't hurt to badly. Jodie shook her head and walked to the door, pressing her finger onto the button to ring the bell.

She shivered again, waiting for someone to come answer it. "I do wish I brought an umbrella," she murmured to herself, holding her arms across her chest.

Maybe she could steal one of Charles's sweaters when he wasn't looking.

---

Aiden watched the blonde pirate scowl after the boy who had just ran away, and a small tremor ran down his side. This wasn't the type of woman he was keen on chasing - should he say something wrong, she definitely didn't seem afraid of punishing him. He made a quick mental note not to get on her bad side, and was shorty after handed a mop that smelled of soap and rum mixed together. He wrinkled his nose, and quickly passed on the cleaning tool to the clueless man, who hadn't said a word since they'd arrived.

"Cleaning isn't exactly my forte," He explained with a grimacing smile. "I trust you four will be just fine on your own. I'm off to find our cabins." If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn he heard a snort emit from Joseph's body, but he ignored it and turned to the door everyone else had exited to.

Of course, Aiden wasn't exactly watching where he was going, and he bumped straight into the man with the corkscrew hand. "Excuse-"

"I know ye were jus' goin' to getcherselves more mops an' buckets," He said in a deep, throaty voice. His breath smelled of alcahol, and Aiden couldn't find words to reply. "I tookit upon meself to get 'em for ye." He shoved another mop and bucket into Aiden's hands, and distributed the other supplies amongst the rest of the prisoners. "Yer welcome."

"Man, who does that guy think he is?" Aiden moaned, eying the second mop with disgust. This one smelled even worse than the first. "I thought only Captains could give orders on pirate ships."

The corkscrew-handed-man paused and turned around to face Aiden. He smiled drunkenly, as if something the blonde said amused him. "Me sincerliest apologies, sir," He said in a mocking tone. "Reckon I forgot me manners. Th'name's Riff. I'm the Co-Capp'n of thuss'ere ship, and have all th'right ta boss ye around as much as I please." He bowed awkwardly, and straightened himself up once more. "I'd offer ta supervise ye, but I'll reckon Chucky's got some food that needs me taste-testing. Therefore, Besnik's in charge of ye 'till me or tha Capp'n gets back." He walked over to the gypsy on the ground. "Get up, boy! Ya got work ta be done!"

That said, Riff walked over to the door leading to the lower decks, muttering something to himself, and bursting out into random laughter.

---

An annoying buzzing sound was heard to the right, and Anthony scowled, rousing from his sleep. He couldn’t quite understand why any of the Saints would feel the need to wake him up at six thirty in the morning each day, since he was considered a convict, but no Saint was ever around long enough for him to ask. Since he arrived, he had a different caretaker every day, and they always had to “play” some kind of breaking-the-ice “game” with him to “get to know each other.” As far as Anthony was concerned, he’d rather get to know a pile of dog crap more than a Saint, but he really wasn’t given much choice. It was either play along, or be “Dispensed.” Which he was pretty sure meant execution in the Saint’s language.

He rolled over and pressed the alarm clock’s snooze button, hoping whoever was babysitting today would be late. He could use some sleep – he spent each night staying up late, looking for an escape out of his room that didn’t involve the heavily guarded door. No luck so far, but he didn’t lose confidence yet. He had the rest of his life to get out.

”Anthonio, it’s time for your pills.”

Anthony scowled, sitting up in bed. He refused to admit it, but he really did appreciate the pills the Saints had to help his withdrawal. It had been a good five months since he had any drugs, but he was terrified if he didn’t take the medicine, he’d go straight back into the shakes. He didn’t have a clue what was in them, but so far, he wasn’t brainwashed, so he assumed they were safe. He watched the Saint – a different one from yesterday, of course - place the meds and a glass of water by his bed. ”What kind of game are we s’posed to play today?” Anthony asked, swallowing the first pill.

”A different one. You aren’t going to be getting to know me, but some of the other Con… Outsiders.” The Saint smiled sweetly, and Anthony couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. Was the term “Outsiders” really more polite than Condemned? Though, he had to admit, he was a little excited to know he’d be able to talk to someone with an actual brain. The Saint left the room to allow Anthony to get dressed, and he didn’t let go of his expression until she was plain out of sight.

The Saints made him nervous, to be honest. He always expected them to look a lot more evil than they did – they were simply normal human beings, as far as looks went. He distinctly remembered a book he read for a school report a long time ago where all the villains had glowing skin, and, prior to arriving at the Detention Center, he simply assumed all of the Saints’ skin glowed, too. Or something menacing like that. It made him even more nervous that they were normal humans opposed to some fairy tale monster.

Normally, Anthony would conveniently forget to inform the Saint when he was finished dressing, but he was curious to meet the other Condemned. He poked his head out of the room and the Saint nodded, motioning for him to follow her. He did as he was told, led into a large room that looked similar to a cafeteria, minus the food.

”This is the recreation area,” She explained. ”You and the other Outsiders will be allowed here one hour per day, assuming you behave. If you disobey, your privileges will be taken away for at least a week, maybe more, depending on the crime.”

Anthony nodded and sat down at one of the tables. He assumed he was merely the first to arrive and the others would come later, so he’d just have to twiddle his thumbs until they did.

”The fun begins now,” he smirked.

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

//File #005 - " The Healer "xxxxxx

| | [ Given Name ]
xx Adrian Black

| | [ Gender ]
xx Male

| | [ Years from Birth ]
xx 20

| | [ Aesthetic Description ]
xx Adrian is quite the funny-looking person, although, surprisingly, easily described. Of course, the scientists just shrug and say that he's ugly, but if one were to take the time to really see him for who he is... Okay. Well. He's still rather ugly.

For one thing, he's short. Adrian might not know the outside world very well, but when he sees himself compared to all of the tall, lanky experiments around him... He doesn't exactly feel average, as far as his body type goes. He has boring brown eyes, greasy blonde hair, and his dark eyebrows are very nearly connected. Attractive? Only compared to a lab rat.

| | [ Disposition ]
xx Surprisingly enough, growing up in the lab has saved Adrian from becoming a demented little child. Had he been raised in today's popular culture, his unkind parents and bad looks probably would have pushed him over the edge - he doesn't take being teased lightly. However, since being ugly was never necessarily emphasized as a bad thing, Adrian is quite the kind individual. He loves the other experiments and would do anything - ANYTHING - they asked him to, so long as they were able to persuade him that nothing bad would come from it. Adrian is really gullible, though, so it wouldn't be too much of a challenge. This credulousness seems to be an effect of his overall dense nature, though; Adrian seems to be one of the only experiments who has never considered a life outside of the lab.

| | [ Past Experiences ]
xx Like most of the other experiments, Adrian has no memory of his life prior to the lab at all - the only thing he's known is the bland life the scientists introduced him to. Living such a dull life resulted in the kid growing up to be quite dense; things like imagination and dreams seemed to fly right over his head.

He received his experiment at a very early age - three - and was bewildered when he had to get surgery in not one area, but two. He was sure that most of the other children had only been operated on in one part of their body, and was a little confused when he had to have brain surgery and an operation in his hands in order for his powers to work properly. The scientists, however, quickly dismissed his thoughts by telling him that he was simply more "special" than the other children - a lie that Adrian took pride in for the early years of his life.

What Adrian didn't know, however, is that the scientists had given him a little more than anesthesia before the surgery started. In order to give his cells the ability to multiply, they had to give him certain harmful chemicals. When Adrian finally came to after the surgery, he had a terrible stomachache and ended up vomiting anything he hadn't fully digested yet. The surgery for his gifted hands was a success, but the concoction to make the surgery result that way had greatly weakened the liner of his stomach - Adrian soon found herself incapable of eating more than 500 calories a day. It was a dangerous amount for someone his age. The amount of calories he could have per day slowly increased as he got older, but, as his body required more calories as well, his normal intake was still fractions less of what was recommended. Still, the scientists insisted on keeping him alive, for one with a power to both harm others and aid friends seemed essential for them to achieve their dream team.

Aside from dieting and the occasional surgery, Adrian lived a rather normal life compared to some of the other experiments in the labs. He had his daily math sessions, his daily training sessions, and as he grew older, he even got a bit of free time - and while he enjoyed it, he constantly found himself bored. He had been told by plenty of experiments that they envied his lifestyle compared to theirs, and while Adrian knew very well that he was quite lucky to avoid too much attention from the scientists, he wished he didn't have as much time to himself as he did. Being one of the first babies to have been brought to the lab left a harsh mark on him - he had seen more children die than anyone else there. When some of the little kids were only just being brought into the facility, a four-year-old Adrian would see one of his older friends pass away right in front of him. Being alone brought attention to such memories, and he really couldn't stand to think about that kind of thing.

But by the time the ninety-ninth experiment died, Adrian was beginning to hear whispers about breaking out...

| | [ Preferences ]
xx Seeing as Adrian lacks individuality, he tends to favor the same things his fellow experiments do, simply because he's not quite sure what he's supposed to like and dislike. That said, he likes the times when he gets to be with his "family" - mealtimes, group training sessions, and any free time that's scheduled with other people.

| | [ Aversion to ]
xx As Adrian mimics other experiments' preferences, he similarly shares their dislikes, too. He doesn't like math. He doesn't like the scientists. He doesn't like surgery. He doesn't like the color white. Something Adrian REALLY doesn't like is not understanding why he's supposed to dislike these things - he simply shows signs of distaste because everyone else does.

| | [ Abilities ]
xx When one mentions "Healing", many think that Adrian can just emit a magical light from his hand and fix any wound. However, this is far from the truth - Adrian can only heal flesh wounds, such as scars or cuts, and there is a lot more science to his methods than the simple explanation of magic. His hands were given the ability to revive dead cells in the body, so he can hover her hand over a cut and the skin would slowly regenerate before him. Likewise, he can reverse the effect by killing live dead cells, and reopen wounds or cause new ones in the body in such a way that could easily be fatal.

| | [ Limitations ]
xx Before Arian's first surgery, the scientists pumped many dangerous chemicals into his body to allow the cell manipulation to occur. As a result, his stomach is incredibly weak, and he can only digest about 1000 calories per day - about half of what normal scientists recommend. If he overeats, he could spend up to a whole day feeling sick. Because of this fear, he tends to have very tiny meals.

| | [ Code Name ]
xx G r a p e y m a n g o -

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

I'm 15 for a moment
ShawneeCaught in between 10 and 20
ShawneeShawneeAnd I'm just dreaming
ShawneeShawneeShawneeI'm 22 for a moment
Time to buy and time to lose
ShawneeShawnee15, there's never a wish better than this
ShawneeShawneeShawneeWhen you only got 100 years to live
ShawneeA family on my mind
Time to buy, Time to lose yourself
ShawneeShawneeShawneeShawneeWithin a morning star
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☆ ★

HERE'S MY TEXT LOL.

I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live
I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind
I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy, Time to lose yourself
Within a morning star
15 I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live
Half time goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
15 there's still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 you're on your way
Every day's a new day...
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

☆
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this when you only got 100 years to live

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

LOL HERE'S MY TEXT

Don't cry for the past now brother mine,
Neither you nor I are free from blame.
Nothing can erase the things we did,
For the path we took was the same.

Beautiful mother, soft and sweet
Once you were gone we were not complete.
Back through the years we reached for you.
Alas, twas not meant to be.
My dreams made me blind and mute,
I longed to return to that time,
I followed without a word.
My brother the fault is mine.

So where do we go from here?
And how to forget and forgive?
What's gone is forever lost.
Now all we can do is live.

Don't cry for the past now brother mine,

______________Neither you nor I are free from blame.

__________Nothing can erase the things we did,
_______________________For the path we took was the same.____________________________ ___________________________________________ ___________________ ______________________________ ____ ●

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

==========================courtesies to ~countfreakzero on dA

================== Slow-Mo Man
========================== t h e r e ' s - - a - - n e w - - k i d - - i n - - t o w n

↳ a super secret identity !

A D R I A N ( ( black ) )
- - - - - - don't wear it out !


↳ some super lovin '

S T R A I G H T
- - - - - - as an 18o ° angle .


↳ you`re super old !

T W E N T Y
- - - - - - and he's s t i l l the best at world of warcraft .


================== The Adventures of Adrian
========================== b u y - - i t - - a t - - t h e - - c o m i c - - s t o r e

↳ that`s super sweet !

P A T H E T I C ( ( isn`t he ? ) )
- - - - - - The Dachshund, more commonly known as a wiener dog, is probably the best - and maybe only - comparison someone could make to anything remotely normal on this planet. Kind of weird-looking, small, teased, and yet it's so unbearably pathetic the trait is almost endearing. The only reason people outside of his family seem to tolerate Adrian is because they pity him; they know he might not ever get laid or ever be invited to a real college party (And, much to Adrian's protests, a gathering to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with a six-pack does not count as a real college party).

Adrian is also a rather gullible kid, believing most anything people tell him. If someone were to say the sky was red, he'd likely spend hours - maybe days - trying to figure out some scientific reason why the sky could appear to be red in someone else's eyes... only to find out they were lying, ages later. His mother always taught him to give people the benefit of the doubt, but Adrian seemed to take that saying to a whole new level... As a kid, and even now, he's constantly being taken advantage of.

As any nerd might be, Adrian is insanely intelligent. He's in his third year of college, but that's only because he could only afford to pay for schooling as any Average Joe; if his wallet were big enough, he'd be working on a PHD right now.

Alas, being a twenty-year-old Doctor will just have to wait.


↳ the super past !

L I V I N G ( ( with the aliens ) )
- - - - - - As far as wealth or health issues went, Adrian grew up a rather lucky kid. His father, a pharmacist, and mother, a pediatrician, were both well-paid and good with finances, so money was never a problem for the boy. Having two parents in the medical business also ensured that Adrian never struggled with issues like obesity or anorexia - his mother would just give Adrian an example of what happened to children who suffered from eating disorders, and he would never have a problem.

As far as friends and social life went, however, Adrian got the bad hand of the draw.

Adrian Black was always a nerd. He didn't know how to socially interact with people in a way that wouldn't get him pantsed, he didn't know how to start a conversation without using words from an adult's vocabulary. When the five-year-old boy asked someone to "Chaperon him to the lavatory," the only thing he got in return was a blank stare. Even if he would talk normally, he couldn't help his uncool habits - he'd spend countless amounts of money on Pokémon cards, video games, action figures. Adrian was the only boy in town that could pinpoint the exact location of constellations at any given time. He was the only boy in town that understood why some constellations were visible at times and others were not. He was the only boy in town who cared.

So, naturally, as all of his interests were different from kids his age, making friends was not easy for him. He went to a small middle school - the graduating class had a grand total of fifty kids - where finding someone who thought the same way he did was even more difficult.

But when Adrian turned thirteen, his parents bought him the best thing in the world. The only thing that could ever replace a human friendship.

When Adrian turned thirteen, his parents bought him a computer.

Through MMORPGs, icons, and Neopets, Adrian learned all about what you really needed to become an adult. He didn't need condoms, he needed math. He didn't need drugs, he needed Minesweeper. Really, who needed a girlfriend when he could download every skit the Pythons had ever performed?

Needless to say, nothing changed when Adrian graduated high school.

He began studying at a smalltown college now - only reason he didn't go to a school like MIT was because he couldn't afford it - hoping to start off with a degree on The Adultery Novel in and Out of Russia. Nobody, including Adrian himself, was quite sure why he took such an odd class, but it had been easy enough for him and he was passing with flying colors, so nobody really cared.

It was just that class Adrian was studying (and, by his definition, "studying" meant spending hours playing Tap Tap Revenge on his iTouch) for in a little park when he got the biggest shock of his life.

A meteorite struck, only about ten feet from the bench he was sitting on.

Adrian didn't realize it at the time, but when he got home, he was feeling rather strange - almost as if he were different from before.

It only took him about another hour to realize that he was blessed with a super power.


↳how super strong ?

S L O W ( ( as molasses ) )
- - - - - - A commonly known super-power would be super speed. Right? You can't fight the bad guys if you can't catch them. Yet again, Adrian managed to miss out on something good - he got the exact opposite. Instead of concentrating to speed up, he can concentrate to move very slowly, as if he were a slug. He has yet to find any use for such a power, but if he's smart enough to code a website in less than an hour, he should be smart enough to figure this one out.


================== Secret Headquarters*
========================== d o n ` t - - l e t - - a n y o n e - - i n

↳ a super theme song !

W H I T E - - ` N - - N E R D Y
- - - - - - I wanna roll with the gangsters
But so far they all think
I'm too white n' nerdy

- - - - - - Happy days is my favourite theme song
I can sure kick your butt in a game of ping pong
I'll ace any trivia quiz you bring on
I'm fluent in JavaScript as well as Klingon

- - - - - - I memorized Holy Grail really well
I can recite it right now and have you ROTFLOL
I got a business doing websites
When my friends need some code who do they call?
I do HTML for them all
Even made a homepage for my dog!

- - - - - - Only question I ever thought was hard
Was do I like Kirk or do I like Picard?


↳ make the super rainbow !
- - - - - - ████████ #f5c674
- - - - - - ████████ #fdd3b3
- - - - - - ████████ #f0cc6a
- - - - - - ████████ #EFAD5F
- - - - - - ████████ #F2DD93
- - - - - - ████████ #925D26
- - - - - - ████████ #C89022

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

● ● Doing the same thing Stripe does and putting my work in ze test thread. Yaaay c:

"...Maybe a Breloom, or Hariyama, or even a Solrock would be cool..."

Anthony Belvidere was talking to himself, hands stuffed in pockets, as he slowly guided himself to Professor Birch's lab. It had been a long trek from Mauville, even with his Special-Edition Swellow Mach Bike.

But the journey was most definitely worth it – Anthony had always dreamed of the day his mom would allow him his very own Pokémon - his tenth birthday, as promised.

Five years and sixth months later, Anthony had dropped his Special-Edition Swellow Mach Bike off next to the door in Professor Birch’s lab. He noticed another bike next to his – belonging to a small girl, no doubt; it had a basket with flowers in it and pink handlebars. He narrowed his eyes sullenly. What kind of trainer-to-be got his starter Pokémon at the same spot as some dandelion-picking snotball? He’d be the laughing stock of Mauville.

But sooner or later, that really wouldn’t matter! Anthony was determined to become the next Pokémon Master! (Except that title sounded kind of lame, so he was aiming to be "Beastly Boss of All Things Pokémonly." ) No matter the label, he was aiming to be on top, and would do whatever it took to get there - starting off with getting his first Pokémon. The ones he was mumbling to himself before were a select few of the many he'd listed on his way to the lab; he obviously didn't realize that you had to start small in the Pokémon world.

Nevertheless, he pushed open the doors to the lab, taking in a deep breath like most people did in movies, as if a new place would smell better than the outside. The scent didn't change much, if at all - it was just a little cooler inside than out. Still, he strode over to the table, eyeing the posters for the Pokémon available.

"Pikachu... Marill... Oddish? Where are all the strong ones?" He whined, disappointed in his choices. There wasn't even a Doduo for him to take. Frowning, he pointed at a Pokéball that supposedly contained a Poochyena."I suppose I'll settle for you..." After all, it'd eventually evolve into a big, strong Mightyena. Plus, it'd be kind of like a pet - he'd always wanted a small Pokémon as a kid. (Or a big one, or a medium one...) He turned to tap Professor Birch on the shoulder before the man went back to work.

"Hey, can I have one of the Poochyena...s..?" he asked, unsure of whether the correct plural term would have an S or not. Whatever. It wouldn't matter. He was aiming to be the Beastly Boss of All Things Pokémonly, not the Beastly Boss of All Things Grammatically Correct.

Pokémon Masters didn't have to study.

“Ex-cuse you,” a nasally voice interrupted his thoughts from behind the large figure of the Professor. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I was discussing my future with Professor Birch, here. You’re going to have to wait.”

Anthony literally twitched. This was, no doubt, the pink-streamered-bike-snotball.

“Just look at the Pokémon posters until we’re done or something,” she shrugged.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Princess,” he growled back, “But I’m going to be the Beastly Boss of All Things Pokémonly, and I want my freakin’ Poochyena.”

Professor Birch, merely an obstacle in the argument, flailed his hands uselessly.

“I don’t care what you want. I was here first, and the Professor needs to give me my Zigzagoon. Plus,” she added, before Anthony could respond, “You can’t have a Poochyena, because my big brother has a Mightyena right now.”

“So what? My Pokémon could kick that Mightyena’s a**, and he won’t even need to be evolved to do it.”

The ten-year-old was unfazed by his profanity. “You don’t know who my brother really is,” she hissed. “He’s from – “

“OOOO-KAYYY, here’s your Zigzagoon and Pokédex and five Pokéballs to start with, okay, Sadie? Now go on and catch a bunch of other Pokémon and show me your achievements years from now.” The Professor shoved six Pokéballs – one containing the little girl’s starter Pokémon – and a Pokédex into her tiny arms. She looked as if she was going to protest, but decided against it, turning towards the door instead.

She took the briefest moment to pause and stick her tongue out at Anthony before darting out the door.

“Now then,” the Professor sighed, turning to Anthony. “What was it that you wanted?”

“A Poochyena,” he grinned, forgetting his anger already.

The Professor waddled over to the table where Pokéballs were kept. “Yes, yes... Where did I keep them…? Ah.” He paused at a basket containing only one Pokéball. “You got lucky, champ,” he smiled. “This is the last one.”

“Don’t care,” Anthony smirked, yanking the ball from the Professor’s hand. Birch frowned. “Do I get extra Pokéballs and a Pokédex, too?”

The Professor sighed, grabbing a bundle of balls and a spare Pokédex. He offered the pile to Anthony, who opened his bag for Birch to deposit the goods in.

“Thanks, Pops.” Anthony slung the bag over his shoulder, fingering the ball containing his new Pokémon. “Time to go, huh?” As if the Poochyena was responding to his eagerness, the ball rocked a little. Anthony snickered, heading out the same door as the girl before him.

Birch sighed. Now there’s a trainer I’ll never be seeing again.

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

● ● More Pokémon Fic 8D This's the second chapter. (Yes, the chapters are supposed to be short.)

“Did you just come from Dad’s lab?”

Anthony was surprised to be greeted by another voice he didn’t recognize – this one much friendlier than the girl he’d met before. When he’d looked up from his Special-Edition Swellow Mach Bike (he’d been unlocking it from the bike rack before), instead of seeing a sunny sky above the houses of Littleroot, two tall figures were looming over him.

Well, not tall, per say. But anyone of average height looked rather tall in comparison to Anthony, crouched on the ground.

“What Pokémon did you get?” The second person asked, obviously not going to wait for an answer to his companion’s question.

“Let me guess. You got a Mudkip.”

“So, I heard you like Mudkips?”

Both figures laughed simultaneously. Anthony cocked an eyebrow – were they twins or something?

“I’m May,” the girl said. “I’m Professor Birch’s daughter.”

“I’m Brendan,” the boy said. “I’m Professor Birch’s daughter’s friend.”

“We’re neighbors,” they chorused.

Anthony scowled. Everyone in this town is seriously annoying.

“I got a Poochyena,” he said. “Do you want to see him?”

May and Brendan exchanged a glance and shrugged. “Sure,” they said.

The rookie trainer grinned – he hadn’t even mounted his bike yet, and people were already begging to see his Pokémon! He pulled his Pokéball from the bag on his back, ignoring the worried look May threw to her friend. He hadn’t done anything wrong yet.

“Poochyena,” he started, “Come on out!”

He pressed the little button in the center of the ball, and with a flash of blinding light, a Poochyena stood, wagging its tail for its owner.

Brendan smiled. “Cheerful little fella, huh?”

Anthony nodded in satisfaction.

“Are you gonna name it or just call it Poochyena?”

“Oh. I almost forgot.” Anthony grinned again; he’d been saving this name for years.

“Now, then, Poochyena,” he started, “You’re going to be a strong Mightyena someday, and you’re always going to be amazing, so you have to have an amazing name, right?”

The canine Pokémon yipped in excitement.

“Right,” he said, speaking slowly for dramatic effect. “Are you ready for this?”

Poochyena bowed her head, tail wagging impatiently.

“Yourrrrr…. Nameeeee…. Issssssss…”

Another dramatic pause.

“Anthony Junior!”

The new name hit the Poochyena like a rock on the head. Didn't her owner realize that she was, well, a she? She growled under her breath, already disliking the beginning of their relationship. Her owner seemed to have cared less about her reaction, seemingly bragging to the two other humans with him - either he was terribly cruel, or terribly stupid. Once he was done, he picked up the Pokéball again, prepared to withdrawal her, no doubt. She growled again, not looking forward to any moment spent with this kid.

“Umm, Anthony, was it?” The brunette female spoke.

“Yes?”

“Do you really think that’s such a good name for Poochyena…?”

“Sure. We’re a team, after all.” Anthony scooped up the Poochyena into his arms, nuzzling his face against her’s. She growled again.

“Whoa, Junior. No growling at me. How do you expect me to get this teamwork down if you’re so uncooperative?”

“Anthony…”

“No, man, he needs to learn this kind of thing early. Into your Pokéball. You can come out when you’re ready to apologize.” Anthony paused. “Err, well. When I need to battle, I guess.”

There was another flash of light, and the newly-named Poochyena was gone.

He opened his bag, prepared to drop the ball inside, but May caught his arm first. “What are you doing?” she asked, obviously frustrated. Anthony frowned. Was she on her period or what?

“Everyone knows that you’re supposed to keep occupied Pokéballs on your belt.”

Anthony stared at his waist. He didn’t have Pokéball holders on his belt. He wasn’t even wearing a belt.

“You can get one at Oldale Town, just north from here,” Brendan offered.

“Right. Thanks. I guess I’ll be going, then!”

“But your Poochyena…”

“Hmm? No, he’ll be fine. See you losers at the finish line!”

For what seemed like the thousandth time that hour, May and Brendan exchanged another worried glance.

“Do you think that female Pokémon respond to male names?”

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

xxxxxxxi got my name on my underwear;
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxadrian black


all because I'm white 'n NERDY
all because I'm white 'n NERDY
all because I'm white 'n NERDY



happy days is my favorite theme song
I can sure kick your butt in a game of
ping pong; I'll ace trivia quiz you bring
on; I'm fluent in JavaScript as well as
xxKlingon.



I edit Wikipedia ;i memorized holy grail really well; I can ;recite it right now and; have you ROTFLOL
I know π to a thousand places.

Adrian didn't watch the news. He didn't have to. He couldn't care less about the current events or politics or the economic crisis - he was a college student, he was bound to have issues with money - so of course he didn't know about the shopping boutique crisis.

Even if Adrian was a frequent news-watcher, he couldn't have known about the terror at the store - the television was otherwise occupied. Adrian was in the process of beating Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess for the twenty-seventh time, and this time he would finish the game in under an hour. He only had the final boss left, and he could beat Ganon and finish the credits in five minutes and thirty-three seconds. Right?

There was a little beep from his laptop, open on the floor behind him, signifying he had a new PM from somebody on FLYFF.

Five minutes, ten seconds. The private message could wait.

If someone had pressed their ear to the door of Adrian's little apartment, they might have assumed somebody was in trouble - the frustrated grunts he was making, combined with the shrieks of Ganon each time the monster was hit, sounded almost like torture. But it was nothing more than a determined little nerd; although his new power made his body a lot slower, Link was faster than ever.

"No, no, no, dammit! Midna, get out of my way!"

Forty seconds. Adrian struggling with a video game made football fans look timid.

There was a loud rapping sound at his door, and Adrian cursed again, frustrated. Who the hell had the nerve to visit when he was only seconds away from defeating the lord Ganon?

"Just wait thirty seconds, I need to defeat Ganon and -"

Adrian was interrupted by the beeping of the timer he was wearing around his neck. He groaned, throwing his controller to the floor. He hadn't made it in time. Hadn't even gotten to the credits in time. He glanced at his laptop for the briefest moment - he wanted to know who the PM was from - and raised an eyebrow when he noticed the username.

Ethan's coming?

His eyes traveled to the door, and thoughts clicked - Ethan had made the journey in the time he was trying to defeat Ganon.

"Door's open," he called. Ethan was welcome inside whenever - he had already insisted the online-now-known-offline friend was allowed to come and go as he pleased.

He looked back at the PM, actually reading the message instead of just skimming it. Noting the command to watch channel 7, he quickly tuned off his game system and followed instructions - he was watching the news the whoooole time, yep.

He frowned at the image, though - what was this about bombing?

There was a terrorist attack in their city?

All of my action figures are cherry
×men comics you know I collect 'em


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxspendmynightswitharollofbubblewrap
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxPOP POP!!;Hope no one sees me gettin' f r e a k y!

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

S h e l b y + A s h f o r d
-------------------------- → Sometimes you might get away with 'Shelbs'.

► ► [ C O N Q U E R ( ! ) the urinal
"i'd rather sit down, if you don't mind."

The perfect little princess ~
xxIt doesn't matter how girly I am; I'll never be a princess.


► ► [ O L D E R ( ! ) than dirt
"i am not that old."

Twenty-four - just like everyone else on this dumb island


► ► [ F A L L I N G ( ! ) face first
"i do not fall, i saunter vaguely downwards."

Only the men are good enough for me.


► ► [ I N S I D E ( ! ) your heart
"helping others brings you closer to God"

I'm the only girl in this world who uses Charity for her own selfish needs


► ► [ C H A R I S M A T I C ( ! ) as anything
"i control your miiind!"

I'm the kind of person that doesn't necessarily have a personality, but a whole bunch of weird habits thrown together to make up who I am. I guess you could describe me as talkative - I tend to prattle on and on. Hey, some people communicate with body language; I prefer plain ol' English. The first and last time I tried reading body language, I ended up with a big slap on my a** and a one-way ticket to Vegas.

Yeah. Vocal explanations for me.

Anyway, I'm a bit materialistic - I dyed my hair a slightly different shade of red than the color I was born with, I spend a lot of my hobo earnings on cute jewelry, I flip through magazines and catch up on the latest gossip. But what kind of girl doesn't like that sort of thing? I like to look as pretty as I can - gotta find a husband sooner or later, after all.

Spunk. I've got a lot of that. I'm pretty witty, if I say so myself. I might end up quoting something I've read or heard somewhere else without even meaning to - if I hear something funny, it sticks with me. I'll repeat it to anyone I don't think has heard it before, and, no, I won't bother giving credit to whoever came up with it in the first person. Sucks to be them, huh?

For someone who's supposed to be charitable, you can probably tell that I'm a bit self-centered. Just because I can influence charity on others doesn't mean I actually feel that way. I have better things to do with my money than to give it to charities that aren't going anywhere. Call it blunt, but hey. That's who I am.

Don't let my flaws get to you, though - I can be pretty nice, especially to the men out there. A lot of my friends look at me like a flirt; I'll talk to any guy, no matter how he looks, despite the fact I'm not actually interested in a relationship. I'm only twenty-four! I don't need to settle down any time soon.

Right?


► ► [ A N C I E N T ( ! ) world history
"hey, hey, hey, what's with this mentioning of all of this history?"

Okay, so, a lot of people don't know that you have to pay to adopt a child. My parents made sure that I did, and they brought it up whenever I was disobedient - treated me like a slave. If I didn't want to wash the dishes, Mom would just yell, "Hey, I bought you, wench! Do what you're told!" and I'd cry myself to sleep night after night. Really, my life was so horrible, I almost killed myself.

Haha, just kidding. ...I guess that's not something I should joke about. s**t.

Let me start over.

Alrighty, my parents did explain to me that I was adopted, they did explain why I was adopted (Mom had something wrong with her uterus, so making babies was something scratched off the agenda), and, yes, they still explained where babies came from. All in all, they did a pretty good job raising me - they taught me to wash my hands before dinner and that sharing was caring and not to eat the yellow snow.

What else can a kid ask for?

All these life lessons stuck to me, but the one that I really seemed to understand was the concept of sharing. I love sharing. I've always been the ten-year-old to beg her best friend for a handful of her Lucky Charms she brought to school for a snack; always the one pleading for a dollar when I accidentally "forgot" it was Ice-Cream Friday.

The biggest difference from me and all of the other kids like me was that when I asked for something, I got it.

I never really noticed it at first - as a little kid, you're not so caught up with "Oh, my God, Shelby always gets the marshmallows when she asks for them," but when I got into middle school and my "sharing" habits didn't slow down, the people around me started to get suspicious. I remember very clearly eating lunch on a field trip where a friend of mine brought a snack quite popular within my particular circle of friends. Almost everyone had asked Joanne for just a little, and she promptly kept everything to herself, but when I asked?

Well, many thanks to a certain special power of mine, she let me finish the entire bag.

My friends weren't the only one who found her behavior suspicious - even I was questioning Joanne's actions as I chewed on the Gushers. I decided to experiment a little when we walked to the buses - there was a hobo on the street asking for spare change.

A lot of people had just exited the souvenir shop and tossed him a few pennies, and I tried just watching them, wondering if just my presence would cause them to throw more.

No response.

It was my math teacher who just passed by - cheap old hag, I'd thought - and she surprised even herself by turning straight around and handing the man an Abe.

My eyebrows shot up. I'd discovered two things that moment: one, how my power worked, and two, the perfect way to abuse it.

Since then, I'd been spending my spare time dressing up in old rags and sitting on the streets, pretending to be a hobo myself. All I gotta do is think angry thoughts about the people who would normally just pass me by, and they'd give me whatever spare change they had. I've averaged about five to ten dollars an hour (tax-free!), which is actually better than quite a few jobs out there. My earnings on the streets plus the little wages I got as a cashier at Seven-Eleven have been just enough for me to keep up with the likes of rent.

Needless to say, I was a little shocked when I was invited to an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii, but hey. Who was I to turn this down?

I've heard that place has some pretty fly pineapples.


► ► [ S T R A N G E ( ! ) little habits
"being strange is perfectly normal and that's what i'm about."

Quirks... Quirks... You think someone as cool as I am has something as odd as a quirk? No. Not me. I have certain small things about me that make me special, 'kay thanks.

Okay, to be honest, I consider my whole personality as one giant idiosyncrasy. Like, if you took one off-beat thing from about ten different people and combined them, that's me. Plus one or two normal habits.

But is that really specific? No, I suppose not. So let me highlight a couple of things you might have missed at first...

I really like jewelry - but not the really expensive engagement ring (as a matter of fact, I think I would like someone to use a Ring Pop to propose to me) stuff. I like the cheap plastic beads or the thick bangles or something like that; a lot of my hobo-money goes towards that kind of thing because it's just something I enjoy to have.

I absolutely hate the terms "ginger" and "daywalker" - I know people say them with love (well, most of them, anyhow), but it's just really annoying. We don't go around calling blondes garlic heads, do we? Do we refer to the brunettes as night strollers? No. Redhead for me. (I don't mind being called Red, either - kind of spunky, no?)

I joke a lot about the kinds of things I really shouldn't - cancer, sex, drugs, whatever. I tend to have the habit of telling someone, "Yeah, so-and-so's not here because they're being treated for AIDs," and only realizing about ten minutes later that it really wasn't a good idea to say that. It's not that I don't think about what I say before it comes out of my mouth, it's just the thought doesn't occur to me until after I see the opposite person's reaction.

That said, I guess a future-seeing power would be more useful than charitable feelings, huh?


► ► [ Y O U ' R E ( ! ) behind the curtain
"oh, great! someone's watching me?"

[Captain Kiza Pirate]

xxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoB e c a u s e - a - u n i c o r n - b e a t s - a - h e d g e h o g - a n y - d a y

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