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Obstacles In Our Path
((Anderson please be careful with your tenses, you've lapsed into present tense quite a few times now, and the accepted form on the site is past tense, third person. Please try to adhere to that)).

Lucas Lupradio
Being that you ARE a senior mod, I don't think the other one can overrule you, lol.

But yeah, the above was my intention for the adoption rule, particularly because the previous rule was more there to stop people resubmitting before the cap and taking up space when they've effectivly killed their characters off for kicks.. These folks are already on the roster.

CotM: August 10, Voting
Kimberly Ngyuyen voted for herself!? Scandal!

Marco Stonecastle
B146 - Stonecastle, Marco

Check the stickied topic first, then go ahead and submit bids if you're interested and eligible.

Lucas Lupradio
B135 - Lupradio, Lucas

Check the stickied topic first, then go ahead and submit bids if you're interested and eligible.

Tiffany Chanders
G050 - Chanders, Tiffany

Check the stickied topic first, then go ahead and submit bids if you're interested and eligible.

Luke Templeton
B122 -Templeton, Luke

Check the stickied topic first, then go ahead and submit bids if you're interested and eligible.

Mary-Ann Warren
G108 - Warren, Mary-Ann.

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CotM: August 10, Voting
Since it seems some people are a little embarrassed about actually pitching their votes publically, here's an opportunity to post them up annonymously.

Vote for one of the following...

Sierra Manning (11)
Jay Holland (4)
Phil Ward (2)
Kris Hartmann (1)
Kimberly Nguyen (1)
Gracie Wainwright (0)
Jimmy Brennan (0)

(I'd usually do just five, but the last three were all tied on 5 nominations each, so there you are).

Mah Writings
Memory

Spoiler: click to toggle

Doodle Soup
*Cluevara approves + 10 <3*

A Pit Stop of Sorts
Kris subsided, still breathing quickly and shallowly. Her pupils were dilating and her eyes were darting all around, at the people surrounding her. She had a little space, which was good, but also had two guns pointed at her, which was not. Kris scrambled back along the ground a little, away from Samya, but ending up closer to R.J.

Had she been thinking straight, if things... weren't the way they were, Kris might have seen Samya and offered her a reassurance, requested politely that her friend put away her gun. As it was, Samya's words barely registered with Kris, let alone her identity. So far as the skater was concerned, the people with guns were just a condemnation, the judgement no doubt passed on from when she'd collapsed.

Her face felt weird, like there was something splattered across it. Kris' hand went to it and she winced as it came away covered in her own puke. She looked a complete mess. As well as her face, there was mud through her hair, turning the blond a murky brown. Her t-shirt was similarly filthy and her jeans were looking even more wrecked than usual. One trainer was still soggy, stained with the swamp water.

There was no blood on her anywhere, but Kris could feel it dripping from her fingers all the same.

Kris gave wild, almost feral looks to both Samya and R.J, then her lips drew back until her expression approximated a snarl. Although she couldn't normally stake a claim to being anything more than cute, at that moment, Kris couldn't have looked uglier.

"Get those fucking guns out of my face, fotze," Kris said, in a voice which trembled with something between fear and anger.

Provocative, but to her mind, if they retaliated... it was deserved. A fleeting thought struck that her father would be very disappointed to hear her swearing so much, before another handily pointed out that he'd probably be pretty disappointed that his only daughter was a murderer too and anything else was just icing on the cake.

Yep, impressing her dad was sure out of the window right now.

Stay Sane Inside Insanity
Finaly, George stood down. Then... decided he was going to walk off. Bounce blinked. Although she didn't particularly want some guy that was going to pick fights with people to be walking around with them, it was a sudden change from 'get behind me girls! I'll protect you!'. Well, he hadn't said it in so many words, but Bounce had been able to read the implication. Very odd... she hadn't expected her words to deflate him quite that much.

Still, his departure made Bounce think that following suit would be a good idea. She didn't trust the guy with the driftwood as far as she could throw him, and to be thrown by Bounce, you'd probably have to be some sort of midget. With George out of the way for now... well, moving on would certainly be best. If her paranoia was on the money, then their unwelcome guest would be about to make his move.

We have to go, right now. This is an ideal opportunity for him... ideal.

Bounce looked to Victoria. "We need to get moving," she muttered. "Get out of here, find Alice. Soon as possible."

Without waiting for further discussion, Bounce began hurrying back towards solid ground as best she could weighed down by dufflebag and daypack.

It won't work. Finding friends never works, Bounce. Either you end up trusting more than you should, or somebody else just comes along and decimates you.

Bounce tried to quiet that little doubting voice. She failed.

((Bounce --> Stamina))

One of Three
There was a skittering sound, then a light 'thunk' as something - presumably Vera's gun, hit one of the kitchen appliances. Rosa was about to extricate herself from her hiding spot and reveal herself to the other girl when a wave of paranoia surged up within her. What was to say she'd really tossed the gun? After all, all she'd heard was the sound of an impact, she couldn't exactly identify what the object that had been thrown was just from that. What if Vera had thrown ... well, anything of a reasonable size instead of the gun? She could be waiting there for Rosa to show her face just so she could open fire.

Rosa found her feelings perfectly justified. It was an instinct thing. Normally, Rosa wasn't nearly so cautious, but normally she wasn't on an island where there could be a killer around every corner, either. It balanced out.

She ignored Vera again, cogs turning in her mind. Rosa had to either find a way to ensure the other girl was telling the truth, or assume that she wasn't and find a way to get the hell out of there. One option was the windows alongside the sofa, but they all of a sudden looked incredibly exposed. If she was being stalked, then she'd present a fine target.

Rosa let out a tiny sigh, barely audible. Best to try and get all the information before psyching herself out. Running without all the facts in hand wouldn't be smart, not with her bags lying abandoned in the bedroom. She had to check this out somehow.

Squirming forward, Rosa crawled her way around the back of the sofa, grimacing at the tight confines between the furniture and the wall. She could already feel aches setting in from how long she'd been behind there. So much for running away, she'd probably have muscle spasms. Reaching the end of the couch, Rosa slowly, very slowly, stuck her head out into the open. Unless she'd miscalculated, she wouldn't be visible from the office from here...

Right... there, the gun's right there, let's chill the fuck out.

Rosa picked herself up off the floor and stepped into the open. Vera was exactly where she'd thought, standing in the doorway of the office. The Fiametta inclined her head very slightly, not much disposed towards relaxing her guard. There was a long way to go for trust here. A nice body hardly meant a reliable person. Rosa herself knew that.

There was a hammering at the door of the cottage, but luckily Rosa's obstruction was holding. Seemed that blocking the door with the armchair had been a good idea after all. Then, a voice.

Craig... I only know one Craig. Fat Craig. Fuck, that guy's huge! Football player to boot. It'd be my luck to run across one of JJ's cronies...

"Craig what the fuck do you want?"

Yeah, she wasn't in much of a mood for 'polite'.

More threads for your buck
A few areas have had the 'allowed thread' total bumped up by one due to an influx of people demanding privatised threads in order to deal with deaths and the like.

...Have fun and all.

August Mid Month (ish) Rolls
Geno
Aug 27 2010, 08:43 PM
I don't suppose I can defer a death until the next roll? :\
NEVER!

AKA: Not unless you have a good reason for needing an extension.

Clu's Sims thread
Spoiler: click to toggle


Cute, it has arrived.

Ax Crazy (LB's Webcomic) and Assorted Art
...I read that as 'sandwich'

August Mid Month (ish) Rolls
P.S: Here isn't where you jump around saying 'Ooh, pick me! Pick me!' For death rights, guys. PM the handler in question with your own ideas. It's politer.

A Pit Stop of Sorts
((Skipping on account of waiting-too-longness))

Running. A mad dash, heart thumping, a stitch grinding at her side. Breaths short, panicked. Surroundings rush past. Trees, plants, plain dirt. Fleeing from? Etain. Kimberly. Reika. Everyone, maybe. Nobody, perhaps. She doesn't know, her mind is panicked, she can't gather her thoughts.

Kris just knows... knows to keep going. Has to. Burning compulsion... no. A fear. Fear of pursuit. Memory falters, but she must keep ahead. The pains, bile crawling in her throat, must be pushed aside. No choice. No alternatives. Feet pound the soil, stumble over unseen obstructions. A trip, Kris gasps - knees grazed. Rolls to her feet, sprints anew. Small pain, easily blocked. Unimportant.

Holding something, clenching tight. Grip so hard it hurts. She spares a moment, looks down, chokes. Blood, drenched, forearm masked with crimson. Bleeding? No... no, not hers. Her hand... twisted, obscene. It holds a gun. It's held by a gun. Dark tendrils weave between pistol and fingers, linked, bound. She tries to open the fist. No response. Own mind, not hers.

Kris is enraptured, horrified. Grabs at the gun with the other hand, pulls. No budge, the tendrils locked tight around her, deep red tentacles burrowing into her arm. So taken with the display, she ceases to run.

"He-hello?"

She whips around, the gun fires. Reika is already falling in a red mist. Impossibly large, it fans out from the body and sweeps on. Kris turns and flees, the cloud of blood threatening to engulf her. She makes little distance, a slam, a collision. Kris falls back to the ground, the beginnings of a scream, then ...within.

She sees nothing. Nothing but red. Warm droplets fall, pelted, assaulted. Drowning in the tide. A scramble to the feet, choking, breathing nothing but blood. A blind stagger forward, a bump. Somebody there? The mist parts...

""If you're going to shoot, shoot, if-"

Kris does. Kimberly drops.

A grasp on her ankle. She shrieks, looks down. A hand from the soil, pallid, dead. Another erupts alongside it, grasps. More emerge from the blood fog, tearing at hair, clothes, limbs. Anything in reach. Seizing, twisting, accusing. Kris opens fire, all directions, no effect, no end to the hands, bearing her down now. Struggling, flailing, pulling free briefly but always ensnared again. Dragging... Dragging down to-



Kris let out an ear-piercing scream at the feeling of a grip on her legs as she snapped into consciousness without being aware of her surroundings or the people in them. Kris lashed out with both feet at the same time towards the person holding her, an aimless blow fueled by panic. She began thrashing around on the ground, trying to break the grip, real or imagined.

Her first coherent thought was yelled to the heavens.

"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU KUKSUGARES!"