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Post by Missy on Mar 4, 2013 21:30:32 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, width: 470px; margin-top: 20px, true] APPROVED | [rs=2] | [rs=3]GREETINGS FROM TOMORROW NEVER DIES YOUR PROFILE HAS BEEN ACCEPTED. | | | LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS. TO APPROVE THIS APP. DON'T USE GOOGLE TRANSLATE. IT WILL CAUSE MISHAP.
Why is your China so brilliant? Now there's one thing I must do; list the points - please take note - praising you.
You move beyond the stereotype, and developed him quite greatly. I really enjoy the culture references. His personality's detailed, with relevant traits and reasons. And if truth be told, China's underrated.
THIS IS GREAT.
It sticks to canon but it's not shallow.
GREAT, I SAY!
You give Yao a fair chance to be brilliant.
NOT RACIST.
That history gave me a lot of feels.
Meticulous and excellent work, Asuuuuu~
I can't wait to see him! In his badassery! We must thread together, Lawlesses unite! You are suited to reign in control, London's better with you here.
Lastly,
THE NAME IS YAO. YAO XUN WANG.
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Post by Missy on Mar 3, 2013 21:46:26 GMT -8
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Post by Missy on Mar 2, 2013 7:56:17 GMT -8
Let me fix your broken hearts with some IainEste fluff. So that I may step on it again with some feels later on. She waited till he was fast asleep. It took some time for that, but Estelle was a patient woman; even if it cost all day and all night, it was all worth it for that single chance to pounce.
So she waited, till his breathing had settled and restlessness stilled, before gently easing out of Iain's arms. (He was a surprisingly light sleeper and should the world be damned if anyone else know that he was such [/b] a snuggler.) With muted movements, she crept over to his side of the bed and snagged the phone upon the side table. The Quartermaster's phone - the treasure trove of the country's information and secrets. One could only imagine what sort of important data was resting in the palm of her hand now. Passcode secured, as expected, but it took Estelle only a couple of lucky guesses to crack it. (The last digit of the birth year, in order of Iain's siblings. Ever a sentimental man, her 'boyfriend' was.) A few swipes brought her to her desired folder. She smiled. And snapped a shot. Of all the things one could do with the Quartermaster's phone - and for a Lawless at that - Estelle chose to take a photo. Of herself. Doing a kissy face. And set it as the lock screen of Iain's phone. Surely there was some diabolical motive behind this, a reason that must be utterly wicked and devious. Alas, other than the mild embarrassment Iain might face should his co-workers glimpse upon the wallpaper, there was nothing Estelle had planned in mind. It was just a silly, silly act, induced by a similar silly, silly feeling Estelle had been experiencing recently when she was with Iain. If anything, it was a competition between the two; an unspoken battle to see who was the mushier romantic. From hand holding to atrocious pet names to cheeks squishes, both were using their superior wit in the most creative and utterly shameless way possible. Satisfied that she now possessed another score over Iain, Estelle set the phone to its rightful spot and retreated back under the covers to her original position, snug and safe in his loose embrace. An odd weight of peace settled over her heart as she begun to drift off to sleep; but was someone like her even allowed to feel like this? Troublesome, tiresome questions that could all be answered another day. For now, Estelle would take whatever blessings and comfort that comes her way, for as long as it would last. He made her happy, and that was all there is. She was awoken briefly the next day by a gentle hand through her hair and soft murmurs about leaving for work. She wouldn't be here when he returned, still he said, 'Ah'll come home soon." and likewise, she knew he wouldn't be, but she wished him to, "Be safe, honey." as Iain brushed a kiss along her temple. Sleepy words, truthful words. Meaningless, but honest. The mornings after were always a special time for them. Fast forward an hour, and Estelle was stirred awake once more, with her own line of work beckoning for her. (Waking up at the other end of the spectrum from him.) She stretched, reaching over for her phone to check the time, and stared. Stared.For there he was upon her lock screen; Iain. Doing the exact same kissy face. Iain.The question wasn't so much as 'why' but rather 'how'. Her phone had a 15-letters strong passcode.Estelle's lips quirked into an unwilling smile. There went her 'check' and now the scores were tied once more. Her silly little sweetheart, the only one Estelle has ever lost to, and the only man she would ever allow to. Pressing a kiss against her phone screen, Estelle then pocketed it and set about to have her day started. So queer it was, that a simple act like that could make her feel just a tiny bit giddy. Perhaps Iain felt the same, but having him right there and silly, just as she was, made Estelle feel not quite as lonely as before. Maybe she would come home tonight. In retrospect, they were, perhaps, really just such an embarrassing couple.[/spoiler] Afterthoughts: I CAN'T EVEN WRITE FLUFF WITHOUT INSERTING A WEE BIT OF ANGST INTO IT. I AM DONE WITH MYSELF. *throws self out of window* |
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Post by Missy on Mar 1, 2013 17:52:26 GMT -8
| APPROVED | Welcome to TND. Your application has been accepted.
Good golly dolly, Joselle. I'm so utterly speechless, honestly; Amelia Brownell Jones is simply fantastic.
There is just so much about her that I adore. She has such a detailed and perfectly-crafted personality; when people usually create nyo!Americas, they like to think glamour and glitz and base nyo!America off Hollywood, LA or New York City. But I really enjoy how your Amelia is a Southern girl, coming from a small-town in the USA. She goes beyond the 'ditzy, dumb blonde' girl and is someone with a good head on her shoulders and isn't ashamed to admit it and to be proud of her brilliance. She's very much 'America' in her likes and her 'larger than life' personality, but very uniquely 'Amelia Brownell Jones' by how simple and grounded she is, representing the other side of the USA which is often forgotten.
Her history is also very touching; I love the growth you've displayed in her. Amelia's story shapes her character to who she is today, and likewise it's because of how and who she is that her history is written and she is where she is.
Really, words aren't enough to describe how well-done this app is. It's quite funny, actually; I recall how you said you are very much alike to Amelia, and as I read through this app, I felt like I was reading about myself as well. We really are alike, sweetie teehee. <3
Alright, I should end here. I think I am starting to ramble. (As always.) I can't wait to roleplay with Amelia, darling. She has already become the only nyo!America I would ever accept in my heart.
The name is Jones. Amelia Brownell Jones.
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Post by Missy on Feb 25, 2013 20:58:04 GMT -8
ESTELLE. BEST LOVER OF ALL TIMES.
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Post by Missy on Feb 25, 2013 20:01:44 GMT -8
*JINGLE JINGLE*
I would definitely like to plot with Tomis, as Estelle of course. They would have definitely done business together many times before and perhaps even a casual relationship? Este had casual relationships with half of Londob.
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Post by Missy on Feb 25, 2013 10:47:54 GMT -8
YOU GUYS DO KNOW THAT THE ENDING CAN BE HAPPY TOO, RIGHT? USE YOUR
~*IMAGINATION*~ BUT ANYWAY * HUGS MISSTWIN AND CAPTAIN DEAR * I AM NOT POSTING DURING YOUR CLASS TIMES ANYMORE.[/b]
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Post by Missy on Feb 25, 2013 10:05:30 GMT -8
I wanted to experiment with the ambiguous style, so no names are actually listed in this story. (But it works for mainly Herc/Nico and Iain/Este hurr.) My angel.
He remembers the first time he called her that, his own surprise a mirror of hers. It had been a casual slip of the tongue, a witty retort to their conversation, and yet so little can do so much. A butterfly of uncertainty had fluttered across her features, just for a mere moment before it vanished behind that familiar mask. Her smile gave away none but he knew her beyond what lingers on her visage.
Lies were beyond them now and they both knew it; so far together, they had ran. Walls had been torn down by two pairs of hands and hearts began to beat once more. They were at a point where both were far too exposed, far too vulnerable, but yet far too desperate, seeking acceptance for the stains on their souls. For the fragmented pieces of their lives that they could not find courage to talk about, they had simply kept them veiled and untouched, unwilling to hurt the other with false words.
Her reply was smooth, careful words trimmed with light laughter. "I had never been called an angel before." He remembers her saying, he remembers how she said it.
Society saw her as a beast, a devil, a Lawless.
So he called her that again - 'my angel', over and over, he kissed those words into her skin and soul. Her protests came first as laughter, which evolved to chides soon after. And quickly, quickly, as much as his blessings came, she denied them all, trying to push him away, the shame away, and away with the tears that fell.
She was no fallen angel; her wings were merely hidden beneath a layer of soot and mistakes. Even if the whole world - and even she, herself - had forgotten its existence, he did not. Her wings were hers, and no one was allowed to break them. She was immortal, the everlasting pillar that braced the rejection of the world. She was his angel.
And in the hours to come, when he held her in his arms with those words as a soothing lullaby, she finally responded. Accepted it, accepted him, simply with the word 'mine'. He was hers, as much as she was his.
He remembers all of these as he is jostling with the guards, trying to get through - please just let me through. It was as if God agreed that she was indeed an angel, but far too precious for this world to cherish, so He took home another angel. His only angel.
The water is freezing and the air around him feels like a lariat across his throat. Blinded and choking, his hands kept on searching while his heart continues to pray. Praying to his angel that she is safe.
It takes three men to restrain him, and a few more solid punches to knock him out.
(In that second before darkness reigned, he remembers; that angels are immortal, because they are first dead.)
Now he sits alone in a house that seems too big, too empty without her presence and he reaches for another swig of liquor. The burn trails down to his heart, where a quiet prayer is still being said.
He knows that his angel will answer his calls. Angels provided miracles, after all.
He hears her voice, her soft laughter, when everything turns dim. And he smiles, because his angel has finally, finally--
Come home. |
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Post by Missy on Feb 25, 2013 5:25:39 GMT -8
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,5,true][atrb=style, width: 470px; margin-top: 20px, true] APPROVED | [rs=2] | [rs=3]GREETINGS FROM TOMORROW NEVER DIES YOUR PROFILE HAS BEEN ACCEPTED. | | | No, actually I lied. BU You are R E J E C T E D.
/slapped
Okay, no. You know I wouldn't say that. Misstwin, you have heard me say it a million and one times before and I will say it again; I ADORE your muses. Your muses aren't exactly the most popular characters and are grossly underrated most of the time, but in your hands, you manage to shape them into something that feels real and breathe life into them.
I know you were worried about Anya, but you have no need to! You have obviously been very faithful into her creation and she is very well-rounded as a nyotalia; canon like Russia but unique from Ivan. Same same but different. c: (And me being a nyotalia RPer with really strict expectations of nyos, I believe I have the right to say that Anya is very VERY well done!)
I can go on and on and praise Anya for such a long time, but I can do that in Skype so wait for me then. <3
ilu misstwin and all of your brilliant muses. I will cut whoever says otherwise. >:c
THE NAME IS BRAGINSKAYA. ANYA BRAGINSKAYA.
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Post by Missy on Feb 23, 2013 7:32:34 GMT -8
Oh dear. I'm really going to miss you, Pluto!! But life is busy, I understand. Especially for us SEAeans really. Take your time to sort out your life and schedule and if you ever miss us, just come back to talk to us in the cbox. We'll always welcome you back whenever. We'll miss you. :c
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Post by Missy on Feb 22, 2013 20:08:29 GMT -8
I REGRET NOTHING. It pays to have a vast network of information, honestly; the vine grapes are always full of whispers and even though he doesn't seem like it, Iain was quite a gossiper as well. There was nothing in London which Estelle didn't know.
Then one day, a little bird came to deliver the most terrifying news ever known to mankind.
"Carmen is pregnant."
Estelle looked up from her papers, a mask of indifference upon her features. Reaffirming the reliability of that information, she proceeded to reach for her phone.
It rang three times before connecting.
"Husband dear, we're going to Asia." |
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Post by Missy on Feb 21, 2013 14:30:29 GMT -8
* CLAIMS IN THE NAME OF MISSY *Prompt #6
Whispers
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Post by Missy on Feb 20, 2013 10:42:41 GMT -8
*HUGS YOU. JUST BECAUSE. I DON'T NEED A REASON.*
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Post by Missy on Feb 20, 2013 10:38:09 GMT -8
MOD - OLIVIER NILES Yet another dull day at the hospital - people coming in, people going out, beds being freshly vacated only to be snatched and filled again within the hour. And here he was, a humble soldier at the front lines of the war. 'Everyone was important!' They had said, even the forgotten employee behind the screen. Lord, his cheeks ached from all the smiling. "Found this pinned up on the bulletin board at Imperial College. Could you point me in the direction I need to go?"Olivier waved his hand in the general direction of the noise, snagging the slip right out of the lady's hand? He had mastered the art of grasping things from midair without actually looking away from his computer screen. Sore cheek muscles were bad enough; no need to add neck discomfort from nonstop swerving to the list of cons as well. Ah, Dr. Otto Alvintzi, was it? Olivier had received direct orders to call for him when someone arrived with this particular form. Picking up the phone beside him, Olivier punched in some numbers and mumbled into the receiver. "He's on his way."MOD - DR. OTTO ALVINTZI Finally, finally. Someone has arrived. At last, things are about to get very interesting. "Hello, how do you do? I'm Dr. Otto Alvintzi." He greeted the young miss (?) and offered a friendly hand. He was a pretty decent looking fellow; young and in his early thirties but yet carried the mature air of an experienced physician. Lanky and held in a casually professional posture, he seemed like just a normal bloke, nothing too interesting or outstanding. "Let's jump straight into this, shall we?" He pivoted, heading down one of the corridors. "I trust you had read the relevant requirements and understand what you've signed up for?" |
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Post by Missy on Feb 19, 2013 5:07:15 GMT -8
This is crack. Don't take this seriously. Take this with chips on the side. Christ, it stung. His new suit was definitely ruined and now he'd lost his placement as well.
Applying pressure to his side, Arthur continued his speech with a rough improvise, ignoring the frantic cries of his people. Bullet be damned, he had a campaign to run!
Once all was over, he was sped straight to the hospital, but not without direct orders to find the almost assassin. 24 hours, Mihai, or your bonus will be cut.
Deadline arrived, and Mihai had performed brilliantly as always, from details about the man's identity to the specific weapon used.
"I've even tracked down his current location." The Romanian declared, with a modest tone, he did not.
"Ah've sumthin' better." A familiar Scot announced, strolling into his brother's ward.
"And what would that be?"
Iain smirked, flashing his phone at Arthur. "Mah girlfriend 'as already caught him."
Mihai wasn't getting his bonus this year. |
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