I finished my last exam yesterday, though I feel confident enough to say I did fairly well!
Exams are bothersome.
{OOC: This is a name banner to be used until after finals when I can create a proper banner, so alas. Will add status information for next post, still deciding. MICHAELA and ALBERT are filler names until I can discuss things with hyuge.}...<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >> It had been done. Rehearsals, rehearsals, and as they came and went, as he played the role of Albert as faithfully as a soldier for his glorious utopian cause as faithfully as an actor could, and as faithfully as possible that the bloat-headed queen -- he touched his hand to his cheek -- actually was faithful with her parts and did not stir up any more trouble with her hackless acting, he felt a sigh of contentment.Ack.His cheek still stung.She had just been-- made-- an enemy of the-- aaaa--Torvald yawned, looking up at the ceiling in bed.He brought out his phone, an old clunky block, and scrolled through the others' numbers he had received. The movie was riddled with signs of overcoming oppression that made his heart flutter, so this emotional outpouring by the others was just perfect to get their numbers. He guessed. Ugh, technology sometimes though. Hard to believe this grey brick worked like a smartphone ...Torvald yawned again. It was getting late. He decided to rest his eyes, briefly, momentarily, but he could not stop the sudden red dawning of sleep upon his tired mind, still aching.... He would-- ack, it still stung -- he would harbour his revenge for the physical contact the dirty queen of the bourgeois had done with his beautiful face. Oh yes, oh yes .... . . << CEASE REVOLUTION >>
Stay strong, my dear soldier. My deepest wishes are with you and your entire family. Things like this happen, and tragedies exist in the world to this day; people react to them differently, of course. Emotions are emotions; I lost a few people close to me recently as well, so I can understand the multiple facets of feeling that one associates with this realization of mortality. At the very least, Michael no more needs to involve himself in the things that made him a black sheep delinquent in the first place.
The Square bubble popped a while ago. Simply look at Final Fantasy: All the Bravest.
There are people on KHV who are not your footstools?
There is a reason why the animes are famous for being androgynous.
{OOC: This is a name banner to be used until after finals when I can create a proper banner, so alas. Will add status information for next post, still deciding. MICHAELA and ALBERT are filler names until I can discuss things with hyuge.}...<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >> Torvald awoke with a start, his eyes wide and maddeningly shaken. The small red nicks in his eyes, his blood vessels, seemed to pop out in dismay as his pupils shrunk to grain-sized dots. By the name of all that was glorious and mighty in the endless revolution just exactly how long had he been out? And nobody had had the sense to look for him in this instance! What dirty middle class selfish scoundrels! Pricks, the lot of them! Torvald tried to stand up on the dirty, old surface of the washroom. Ridiculous lambasting bourgeois strutting around thinking they own the goddamn place but they don't because this isn't a revolution for them no it never was never it was a revolution against their coy cunning sly selfish self-centered oppressive regi--Whup! Torvald's shoes slipped again but he quickly thrust forward his arms and caught his head over the sink. All of the rehearsals he must have missed. All of the potential chances for changing the script. All of the days of revolution he could have ignited to the wings of infinity in his time away! How long had it even been? Torvald gazed at his reflection in the mirror. Dark bags lined his clear blue eyes and his face was frozen in a surprised scowl. How disgusting! A shameless, wretched face of someone who has failed a revolution! To the lowest pits of hell with this face! Torvald thought these things as he quickly turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water. He shivered slightly, the chilly drops sliding along his strands of long blond hair. Holding the sink by its edges, he inhaled deeply and looked forward. Where was everyone? Did they go off trying to commit revolutions without him? Insolent curs! Fiendish infidels who would never understand the deep-rooted, infinite problems of the oppressed working-class like he did, especially when they were all goody-goody ascribed-status aristocratic chowder-headed buck-breathing top hats that wouldn't last a chance in the real world because he was forgotten!Alas!Torvald pivoted on his foot and ran out of the bathroom back into the dusty confines of his dorm room, rushing towards the rehearsal auditorium. He did not realize that he left the withered and dried blue rose on the bathroom floor.- - - So he did what he could do best.Torvald barreled through the auditorium's double doors, huffing and puffing, his eyes angry with fierce blue fire. He pushed aside a bespectacled girl who was making her way into the room. All for the revolution. Torvald did not notice the grey cat that quickly darted between his legs. He momentarily cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie, before fixating his gaze at the stage.<< A BILLION PARDONS, PEONS OF THE REVOLUTION. THE WINGS OF MY INFINITE EFFORTS TO CURB THE OPPRESSION OF THE SINK UPON THE WORKING-CLASS THAT IS MY HEAD PROVED TO BE UNFRUITFUL IN THE FOUR OR SO DAYS OF MY ABSENCE! >> He began walking calmly, yelling his lungs out with a flat face that did not seem to fit with his words at all. Instead, his eyes were darting around quickly, trying to take in as much information about what happened here as possible. All the while, he continued.<< IT IS SADDENING TO SAY, UPON MARX'S GLORIOUS MOUSTACHE, THAT NOT A SINGLE COMRADE CAME TO CHECK UPON MY WELL BEING IN THE INTERIM OF THE PERSONAL PROLETARIAN STRUGGLE I WAS HAVING WITH MY CONSCIOUSNESS! A TRUE SHAME FOR ALL OF YOU, BUT IF WE CAN GET THIS REHEARSAL RIGHT THEN NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU WILL BE EXCLUDED FROM THE GLORIOUS UTOPIA THAT I SHALL CREATE IN THE NAME OF ALL FREE OF OPPRESSION.So perhaps, it is to say, WE SHOULD BEGIN THIS REHEARSAL, IF WE MAY. >> << CEASE REVOLUTION >>
Tomorrow would be an important day. Fatime considered this, rolling it around in her head, as she held tightly to the white sack in her hands. It smelled sweet and musky, and the sealed contents were important for her little venture. Hair design was always a favourite, so the first thing tomorrow, mhmm ... She tightened her grip on the sack and walked back to her room, desperately holding a thick book beneath her arm as the soft midnight wind fluttered around parts of her grey winter hoodie. Lumbering like a bear, she moved into her room quickly, quietly, and efficiently, hiding the sack beneath her bed in the darkness and pulling off her hoodie to go straight to sleep on her warm bed in her dress. Early morning, early morning ... Off on the side, she placed her book next to her in bed. But throughout the night, the smell of the bag's contents lingered like a musky fog upon her nose and in her dreams. She needed to make sure she could get enough sleep, so important things could happen. But alas ... Even then, her eyes, they fluttered and closed despite being able to sleep for, perhaps, only two hours at most. In her sleep, she curled close to her precious copy of Paper Shields.
The river flows in you, fair new members.
I just realized I forgot to post the ending theme to the first arc. Spoiler ♥
+ The clock struck ten, and her curiosity had broken her. { m u s i c } Little Fatime stood hunched in her white coat over one of Fortissimo's many black chemical benches in the old laboratory. Dusty and dry; rarely ever used since the new one opened up all the way on the other side of the campus. But this was good, ah-- this was perfect. She didn't say a word throughout the entire ordeal, and really was very much like a ghost, or a ninja, in how secretively she was able to come to this decrepit, abandoned room, far away from the prying eyes of others. Ohohoho, it made her heart flutter. <3 Deep, thick goggles gazed at the party of flasks, pipes, and tubes that had been scattered almost haphazardly along the table. They were filled with traces of strange liquids, most of them translucent, others smoky, and still others in dazzling chemical hues. A thick pinkish smoke clouded around her, and her deep breaths echoed through her tightly-strung face mask. The low hum of a ventilation shaft directly above her head allowed the smoke to dissipate and naturally condense back into water vapour, but as a result, the room's mild heat left her skin flushed and burning. One could almost mistake it from the passion of her work. She tapped a thick, leatherbound copy of her weekly read by her side. The fraying, yellowed copy of Gustave Heitor's Paper Shields was placed inside a translucent laboratory bag to protect it from her work. But within the midst of this cacophony of chemical conundrums, her eyes and her cunning, dastardly frown were fixated on the heart-shaped bottle in the middle of this mess of flasks. It had been opened, and small plastic tubes ran from deep within its reaches to burettes and flasks nearby. They dripped the contents into test tubes and through pipettes where they were further filtered through the Bunsen burners that heated the liquids and generated the pink smoke. Fatime carefully picked up a test tube with her gloved hand and swished around its translucent contents, holding it close to her goggles. She froze in place for a few seconds, the liquid briefly returning to its state of rest, and placed it back in the test tube rack, allowing the burette to continue its drips. This was strange. She looked at the paper pad by the heart-shaped bottle, where she had scratched in notes only recently. She couldn't help it. A naturally curious mind was driven to breaking school rules and being in unauthorized places to pursue the truth, right? So here she was, realizing that the insane contents of this-- this "Cupid's Brew" she had so foolishly purchased was something like a terrifying designer drug. One that seemed to work ... maybe, but she had no idea! Schizophrenic hallucinations. Aggressiveness. Pain inhibitors. Excessive stimulation of the nervous systems and the brain's reward pathway. Chemical aphrodisiacs. Natural love polypeptides. Addiction, addiction, addiction ... But this was all up in the air. Yes, yes it was ... ah, what oh what could that final three percent of this detestable drug cocktail be? 97% of this Brew was death, but that final three percent could change everything ... She sighed behind her mask and picked up her book, gently taking it out of the bag and rifling through the pages. Her eyes scanned them quickly and efficiently, almost like a machine, before she settled on the right page, stopped, slammed her finger down on the text, and satisfied her thirst. She cleared her throat. << "My dear Madrigal, it is all on the upside," Bishibel replied, a cunning grin on her face. "When the light of truth, O how brightly it may shine yet be unable to pierce the thick fog of mystery, flickers and dims behind one's own apprehensions, then they must take steps to ensure that chaos facilitates the orderly pursuit of the truth." >> She slammed the book shut, and turned back to the bottle of Cupid's Brew on the table. It still retained much of its contents, so she had a chance. Huh, hmm ... Fatime thought for a long time. Right, that was right. They had a rehearsal today! A rehearsal, rehearsal ... Lots of people, right? Right. Haha ... lots of people. A light of truth flickered in her head. That-- that's it ... Facilitate chaos, hm?! Through the pink smoke that slowly began to clear and dissipate, she smiled behind her mask deviously as she eyed the flasks of clean water. Her grey eyes lit sparks in amusement. When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I'll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. How long had it been since she had her own fun? Hehehe.
{OOC: This is a name banner to be used until after finals when I can create a proper banner, so alas. Will add status information for next post, still deciding. MICHAELA and ALBERT are filler names until I can discuss things with hyuge.} Torvald cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie....<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >> In the mirror, the icy blue eyes stared back at him. Cold and unfeeling, frozen like Greek marble.His hands were coated in Maria's dried blood, as he held the wilted blue rose by the sink, contaminated by the blood of the dirty bourgeois oppressors. He scoffed at the rose, his eyes narrowing gravely like a ruthless wolf.Next to the porcelain basin lay his script, wet with tiny spots of water, blood, wine, and tears. Wine stains plastered his -- Albert's -- tie, but things like this were easily replaceable, as all machines were in his infinite revolution. He drew himself closer to the mirror, his Oxfords letting out piercing squeaks upon the marble floor, as he examined his face closely.The duet had gone well enough, but there were still problems. Many, many problems. Michaela's death wasn't believable enough! What good was it to sing the songs of proletarian, working class suffering as Michaela was wont to do, when Maria herself couldn't focus on the emotions behind it! Terrible, terrible! What was this? Torvald sprung up towards the top of the mirror, where he could see the reflection of the door open ajar. What was this? It was, of course, the pungent smell of a lack of perfection.In a revolution, when dealing with the oppressed, there was only perfection or elimination. No in between.He turned the faucet and watched the torrent of tap water stampede into the porcelain basin. The cold beads of liquid splashed onto his hands, and he felt the pinch of needles upon his fingers. Immediately, he laid the blue rose next to the sink and began washing his hands.That wasn't enough. This duet wasn't going well enough.It wasn't just because Maria wasn't perfect, but he wasn't perfect either, right? Right. Haha ...Torvald grimaced in the mirror, bearing his beastly cuspids in disgruntlement. Useless. Useless! Perfection or nothing! And here was Torvald, being unable to himself capture the feeling of the class struggle! Insanity! Torvald balled his hands into fists beneath the cold water, and widened his eyes.But he loosened his grip on his invisible heartstrings.The bloodied rose began its descent. Torvald immediately shot away from the sink and tried to catch it, but as he descended to the marble floor, it slipped through his fingers, the thorns cutting through them like butter. And with a small twirl in the air, the blue rose fell to the tiles in a puddle of water and blood.Torvald rose, and stared at the fallen flower, floating in its ethereal puddle on the floor. The rush of tap water sung through the small bathroom, but it was the only sound that Torvald could hear. And there, by the sink, he stood staring at the blue flower for a long time.He slowly brought his hands to his gaze. They were rife with involuntary trembles.His right hand was clean of all blood, but his left ... ah, his left still bore the stains of Maria's blue-blooded bourgeois life....Torvald's eyes widened and twitched.How ... how disgusting! Ugh! He ran back to the sink and began to wash away the rest of the blood from his left hand.It wasn't perfect! The washing wasn't perfect! How disgusting! Absolutely wretched!The water splashed everywhere as Torvald desperately tried to clean Maria's blood off of his hands, but it took effort after effort after effort, and the water and blood danced together in puddles all over the sink and floor.Nothing was perfect! He could not afford to allow the struggles of the oppressed to eliminate him as a result! No!He kicked the edge of the sink in barely-suppressed anger. It cried out a loud clang that seemed to echo through the room and momentarily make him forget everything.Torvald stood, dead-eyed, by the mirror. Just for a moment.The noise rung like a bell in the room, knocking his head with its loud, grandiose vibrations. Such was the structure of reinforced tin and steel; the true working-class of metals.But to Torvald, the noise only brought back memories of the duet. The talking through mirrors. The pools of blood everywhere. Michaela's lamentations.He slowly turned his head towards the blue rose that lay lifeless in the puddle of water and blood.Everything was imperfect.They needed more. More. Something more. How dare it was she reject his peace offering.He would have to make sure that the world would eliminate bourgeois scum like her, forever and always. It was inevitable. It was the law of the history of humanity; the ascension, where all dissident elements would be weeded out. Where the production of the Girl in Watercolours would eventually achieve the perfection it requires.But would he be the one to spearhead the perfection?... Ah, he had to be. There was, of course, nobody else who would listen to him about this ...Torvald turned off the tap and turned around, but-- ack!He felt the ground fall from beneath him in a slippery rush as he fell to the floor. His eyes suddenly widened and he helplessly thrust his arms out to latch onto something something anything anythinganything in his desperately descent but bang, he his his head on the sink, and was immediately knocked out, slumping by the blue rose and the pools of watery blood. The smell of wine lingered on his tie -- on Albert the alcoholic's clothing -- and it was the one pungent scent that permeated the room.Funny, too.Torvald hated alcohol, but what else could he do but always play his roles? << CEASE REVOLUTION >>
And then Paint.NET was the Prussians.
These Kingdom Hearts III screenshots are beautifully realistic.
KH-Vids: The Movie. Starring the above names as our glorious administrators.
My dream of becoming a Touhou special attack has been granted. Thank you dearly, Nova Claus! ♥
I remember when I had a childhood. Then we somehow rid of our American satellite television.
I shall simply go ahead and huddle in my corner of post-traumatic stress disorder now.
