RolePlayer.me

As I am tired of the general bullshit I have encountered here, I have decided it was about time to update this shit. If you can't handle what's written here, get the fuck out and stay away from me. I will not deal with you and your ignorance any longer.Eventually, these will be posted in my profile. I need to figure out how to adjust the size of the location first.The Rules;1. I don't add numbers.2. You pick a character you want to roleplay with.3. If you are a multi-character account then YOU pick one of your characters that you want me to rp with.4. If you add me, you speak first. If I add you, I'll speak first. I get rid of people who don't speak or respond to me after a weeks time. If there is something I should know about that would prevent you from speaking with me for a certain time, you better be damn sure to tell me if you want to stay here.5.OOC goes in comments, Roleplays go in messages. You send me an ooc in messages without previous discussion of it and I get rid of you. Simple as that.6.My roleplays are multi-para to novella. Rarely will I do anything else. Can't make the cut? Don't roleplay with me.7. Can't follow these then fuck off.

The meeting spot that Nyghtshade was requested to be at was desolate, quiet, and had an ominous feeling in the air. 

SAINTS OF CHAOS MAGAZINE INTERVIEW.S.O.C staffer Andy Rotten recently sat down with Michael and Felix from The Cursed on their backstage break at Luigi's Fungarden, to discuss the current "High Voltage Punx" Festival which only features the best of the underground hardcore, post-hardcore, and punk bands, as well as details about their past experiences with their band, their first EP, crazy tour stories, and more. Let's start with that's going on right now, how is the "High Voltage Punx" festival going? I figured it's pretty epic as from I can tell right now. Felix: You could say that our mind's are equally blown. [Laughs]Haha! Nice, I can only imagine how you guys feel. This is your first time being in one of these right? I mean, you guys must be f***ing stoked! Micheal: Yeah man, the mini-tour has been pretty f***ing awesome. I think it actually exceeded our expectations. We didn't think people would've even given it much attention, but it's been insane. The underground scene is a much bigger movement than what we thought. I can't even believe the turn-outs on some of the days. After we did the signing at our booth last night, we just had the realization that sh*t was gonna be f***ing crazy. Felix: Yeah! We could've had a f***in' show with just the kids from the signing at our booth. There were that many kids. We never even pictured ourselves being that popular. I thought we were gonna have like... no one. Maybe ten kids tops? [Laughs]Michael: I'd just like to thank Ronnie for making this possible. This festival would never exist without him, and none of us would've really been here. It's nice to know that someone cares enough for the underground scene.Yeah, I see that surrounding all this hype with fellow tour-mates, two of you have disappeared. Felix: [Laughs] Oh yeah, Jeremy and Jason decided to roam around and meet some of the bands. We've met a lot of new people at High Voltage; they've all been pretty cool. It's nice to make friends with other people who have things in common with you. Just starting out, you know? Trying their best to get their name's out there a little more. Totally stoked about being here. It's even cooler when you meet others that are fans of your own band, haha. Michael: Yeah, there's bands here that have literally just started a few months ago, but they've been so good, that they were thrown in this festival. Like, LowONgas, they're pretty much starting out. And kids love them, but their fan base isn't as big as some of the other bands, and some of the new fans just don't get into them much at first. I mean, they all watch and clap, which is awesome. It's just, I think it's gonna take a little time for them to grown on the fans. Felix: It's so shocking, they put on such a crazy show, and it's such a different kind of sound. You just wanna watch and be mesmerized. They've got a lot of soul, and they truly won a spot in this scene, we're stoked for them. They're pretty cool kids, and we just know they're gonna blow-up big. I can completely agree with that. I've heard of them before, and I actually interviewed them a few days back at Casa De Chaos. But, right, about you guys - I heard you guys have an EP and it's been doing really well since you guys decided to release it.  Do you think there's any misunderstood songs in your album? Maybe people take the context presented the wrong way? Felix: Yeah, there's actually a lot of misunderstanding with our music, but I'd have to say that most of the lyrics I write are pretty straight up. I don't know. Writing lyrics for The Cursed is very emotional, you know? My lyrics are a lot of emotions that I'm not proud of. I put everything into my songs, just all my pure and raw aggression. Like "Fifth Period Massacre," the song's about a kid who sees no way out but to take revenge. So he takes a gun to school and kills everybody. Point blank. But, the song isn't really condoning violence, I think. It's not saying that that's the only way, or the right way out. It's just about someone who just can't deal with it anymore. Someone whose parents' don't listen, whose school is a piece of sh*t; no one cares, the kids' are f***in' a**holes, and they make him wanna die every day that he goes there. No one talks about this sort of sh*t from the kid's point of view. No one asks what made them feel the way that they did? What drove them to destroy? And like, there's just so much sh*t going on, and people just like to pretend that it's not happening. It sucks, and I'm f***in' tired of it. Have you ever even fired a gun? Felix: Uhm, yeah. I've fired a gun, and I loved it. [Laughs]Any other song you want to speak about?Felix: There's "Murder was the Case They Gave me." I won't even beat around the bush with this one. It was written for an ex-girlfriend, which I'll keep the name to myself for the sake of privacy. But, this one's pretty straight to the point, if you just listen to the lyrics. I'm standing outside of her house, thinking about what my next move is going to be, clenching my fist as "my blood runs cold." I'm waiting for the day to die, and the night to fall, "I'll seize the day by the throat and watch it die." And then what happens next is pretty much f***in' brutal, and I know a lot of people wouldn't like it, but I rape her while I push her face into the dirt.  "This one's for old times," "I'll take my time," "maybe you'll learn when the dirt fills your lungs." But then, I realize that leaving her alive after this would only get me caught, "oh the stories you'd tell." So then, I kill her, but before I do, I tell her a few last words, "I am your nightmare, I am the shape in the dark, I am your ending," and then I set her house on fire to get rid of any evidence. "I'm burning down your house now," "ashes to ashes." -- Then you know, "God knows, I've had better," is your happy f***in' ending. I guess. [Laughs]I could tell you can hold a grudge. Haha!Felix: [Laughs] I really f***in' can, but this isn't condoning rape and murder either. If I tell you to jump off a bridge, would you do it? I mean, the point is, I wanted to write songs from my gut. Something that means something, not just useless bullsh*t, you know? I actually would've wanted to play this one at our church back in Jersey, but uh... we don't go there anymore. [Laughs]Are there any topics that you guys haven't covered yet in a song but want to cover in the future? Felix: I guess something a little more positive, like sh*t would get better type of thing. Michael: Yeah, a lot of kids hit is up about really serious situations they're going through. You know, thoughts of suicide, depression, a lot of f***ed up sh*t they're going through, and they tell us that they confide in our music. It helps them get rid of that anger and that lonely feeling. Like they aren't the only ones who feel this way about the world, we wanna keep them in mind when we're creating music.Felix: Definitely, so I just wanna be able to write something that tells them not to give up. Like, life has been sh*t but if I could pull through, so could you type of thing. The world could f***in' destroy us, but we need to survive. We're no different from you guys, and I like to stand as the reminder that the world isn't better off without you. We live in f***ed-up and dangerous times, we have to break through and carry on. Remember, when life gives you lemons, start a f***in' band. [Laughs]Wow, those are some deep words. Haha, well, are their any songs you guys are most proud of? Like one of those kind of songs that ten years ago you never could've imagined creating? Felix: For me, there's one song that's not really on the EP, but it's called "One hundred Sleepless Nights." It was a change in the sound and the lyrics. We kept it a little more mellow and didn't do a lot of things to it. Usually our songs have a million elements, and tons of crazy sh*t. But this song we were like, "Okay! We're just gonna tone it down a bit." We just made it real simple. Do you believe that you're challenging yourself and growing as a lyricist?Felix: Well, yeah. I mean, you have to, right? I can't just be the guy standing up on stage, getting hurt, thrashing around, and jumping onto speakers and on Jason's drums. I can't just speak into the mic about anything in particular. I'm ready to do everything, and be everything that I have inside. I have a lot more to give. So much sh*t that inspires me. And honestly, and I'm hoping I'm using the correct wording here. It's not meant to offend the fans or anything, but I write for myself. I mean, my lyrics are being put out there to be interpreted however the f*** you want to. You know? And I make music for the kids, and I hope I can leave that imprint and have my lyrics mean something to them, but I'd be bored as sh*t if I wasn't writing for me. It's a really f***ed up way to put it, but yeah. I'd be bored as sh*t if I were writing for anyone else. Like, I write about me. About sh*t that's happened to me, and sh*t that I've gone through and experienced. About how I feel about the world and society, and hell - even sh*t that's happened to my friends and sh*t. I don't write about some people I don't know and sh*t I don't know about - like cancer or whatever. I don't know anything about that, you know? I basically just write about the things I know. You can't be poetic in that case, you can't apply words to what you haven't experienced. You could be the best speaker of all time, but when you have no f***in' idea what you're talking about, people see right through that.  No, of course. It makes sense, it's your feelings, your emotions, not anyone else'. You can't write out the emotions of anyone else, but yourself. Felix: My point exactly! At least you got it. Would you guys ever want to sell out and be more than just an underground band?Mike: We always get asked this question, and the answer's still the same. We feel happy with where we are. We can manage our own things, and just be ourselves. We don't have to censor anything and limit ourselves to anything. We can just chill out and do things in our own time, and we can even interact with our fan base so much better than any of those big, famous bands, you know? Felix: Yeah, I mean - I rather shoot myself in the f***in' head, honestly. We've had so many offers, and it's crazy. But, I'm like, I rather die than be famous. I mean, those people think they're so cool because they're famous. If you're not famous, they don't even want to talk to you. There's so many people like that, and I rather not become part of that group. Like, I enjoy letting the fans be part of our world. F*** pretending like we're perfect, because we're not. We make mistakes, and it's nice to know that we're still loved despite our imperfections. We're loved for us.Speaking of love, some of your songs are based on that, but they're really hard to figure out, like are they about love or hate? Felix: [Laughs] They're whatever you want them to be. It's a "f*** you," or an "I love you so f***in' much." It could be, "I'm f***in' outta here," as much as it could be, "I'm never leaving you, you're my everything." My songs about those sort of emotions seem to border in between most of the time. Like, one moment they'll be all like, "get the f*** out," and then the next, it's like, "I can't live without you." I found out that love is one of the most important parts of hate, and vice versa. Like, you can't really love someone completely without fully hating them, at least at some point in your life. Hating everything about them, and understanding why you hate those things. That's what makes you love them so much. Love without hate isn't real. If that makes any sense. Agreed. So, what has been the craziest thing to happen to you guys on tour so far? Michael: I decided to down a bottle of NyQuil 'cause I was really sick about a week ago, and I couldn't stop throwing up. We got on stage and all I did was open my mouth and puke like f***ing crazy. A friend of ours, Tommy, from Lab Rats, had to fill in for me, because I was just all kinds of f***ed-up.Felix: Haha! Oh my god yeah, I remember that. Oh, and we can't forget Jeremy. He's usually really quiet, but he got so sh*t-faced about two days ago, and he decided to skateboard around the park shirtless, and screaming "I'm a goofy mango!" At the top of his f***in' lungs, it was f***in' hilarious. [Laughs]Michael: Hahaha! Now everyone calls him goofy mango boy. [Laughs]Felix: Ahahaha! Yeah, oh! And what happened to me. F***, I'm always getting in some sort of f***in' trouble. So, I get really drunk, and I pass the f*** out, I don't even know where. But, I know I wake up to some kids woo-ing and some girl telling me to grab her titties. So, I'm like what the f***? Where am I? My eyes open up and I'm passed out in some van, with some blonde chick on top of me, nearly about to rape me, so I push her off and get myself out of the van, and she's all like, "what the f***?" blah-blah-blah. And I'm like, "dude, you're drunk," and she's all like -Michael: I don't drink, I'm a virgin! [Laughs]Felix: [Laughs] Yes! And then she like, stumbles out of the van after me and just starts throwing up SO much. Then she looks at me and is all like, "whatever! You were ugly anyways!" And walked off. Haha! WHAT. THE. F***. Oh my god, really? Haha! That's crazy. Alright, at what point did the band begin to click? You know, like, when did everything begin to fall together for you guys? Felix: It's been quite a journey for us. Like, we always wanted to start a band. It was a thing for me and Mikey. Our parents were a huge influence to us, and it was just the environment we grew up in. We always wanted to do something that people could dance to, but we couldn't help it - the moment we'd start playing, we'd just tap into being rockstars. Mikey and I played our first mini-show in the back of my parents' van at some church festival. Haha, it was Mikey on guitar and I was on vocals; our first band Shut up! And then like, when we finally grew up, and we ended up over in California; The Cursed happened. And like, we didn't just decide to make up some name and put together a band. It meant something to us, I had sh*t to say that I wanted to share with the world, and we gradually made our way up to where we are right now. We're like a family. Michael: Yeah, and I think that's what's different about us. Even when we went in search for a bassist. We reached out to our fans, and I love that our fans are so dedicated. Jeremy was just our fan, and now he's part of our little dysfunctional family. Like, I remember he was all like, "dude, I saw you guys a year ago with my girlfriend at Pleasure Palace. You guys were just starting off." Felix: Yeah, that was the first venue we played at, no one knew us, and people see us now and they're all like, "I remember when you guys were just opening acts, and no one knew who you were. You guys kept going and going and finally you guys are up here with the top bands in the underground scene and all these kids are here to see you guys." A lot of people don't notice it, but it's definitely crazy to think that we started from the bottom and just built up to having this f***in' awesome fan base that know our songs, our names, it's just a great f***in' feeling when you can hold the mic out and the crowd could sing your song without any help. It didn't happen overnight, and we know so many kids in our fan base as friends. A lot of them have been here since day one.Michael: They basically grew up with us.Felix: Yeah, pretty much. It's just crazy to see from playing to the 10 kids that knew who we were, until now. What's is the next step for The Cursed? Felix: Well, we're definitely gonna keep the ball rolling this time. We're not dropping this, not when we've gotten so far, you know? Hell, we might even come out with another mini-album. We've been thinking about it a lot, and we've also been coming up with new songs, I've been writing lyrics like crazy, lately. We have a little studio going on in our basement back home, so on our free time, we practice and do a lot of recording. And I always wanted to publish a lyrics, poetry, or comic book. Or maybe it could just be a little bit of all three, you know? I'm sure fans would like that.  Haha, I have one that I'm slowly writing, my notebook is full of ideas, but it's still not ready enough for exposure. I mean, we're always looking towards the future, and putting our best foot forward, we try to make everything better than the last. But, you know - we always keep sh*t fun. We don't really plan much of what we do, it just kind of happens. Wow! Awesome, well, I should probably get going, being that I have to interview a few other bands too, haha. So, any closing words for the fans? Felix: Don't do drugs.Michael: Brush your teeth and eat your vegetables and always give twenty percent for tips. Don't do ten. Don't be that guy. Go twenty. Felix: [Laughs] Oh! And wear condoms, but only on weekends though, 'cause Monday's through Friday's are definitely safe enough for unprotected sex. Everyone knows girl's can't get pregnant during the week. Haha. Michael: [Laughs and shakes head] Worst advice ever... -Interview by Andy Rotten. Saints Of Chaos �

Name: Shino KurokazeAlias(s): The Blind Samurai of the ForestSex: MaleRace/Species: HumanAge: 26Birthday: December 18thSign: SagittariusFamily: All deceased. Taken in by foster parents.Birthplace: JapanOccupation: HunterHeight: 5'8"Weight: 155 lbs.Eye Color: NoneHair: BlackWeapons/Equipment: KatanaAttributes: Master swordsman, expert tracker and hunter, kendo master, iaijutsu master, master of kenjutsu, heightened sense of smell, touch, hearing and taste due to loss of sight.Bio:Born in a fairly sizable village, Shino was one of the few shining stars as a member of the village's prestigious school of swordsmanship. A child prodigy, he was gifted in the art of the sword and had a bright future before as a samurai in service to the daimyo.Unfortunately, fate had struck a cruel hand.One night, the village had come under attack by a group of rogue samurai, that had taken up banditry. The village was burned to the ground and many innocents were slaughtered. Shino and his fellow students had attempted to defend their homestead, but were quickly overwhelmed and defeated. One by one, Shino watched as his classmates were executed, along with his master, until only he remained. He faced his would-be executioners with a steely gaze. This proved to be his undoing. The bandit leader claimed to dislike the look in Shino's eyes...and ordered them cut out. Shino was spared and left for dead in the remains of his village.For days he wandered the road, blind and in excruciating pain. He was found on the side of the road by a farmer that was returning from a trip from the neighboring village. The man took pity on Shino and brought him along too his farm. He and his wife tended his wounds and nursed him back to health, but Shino was broken. His home was gone, his family was gone, and his eyes were gone. Any hope he had of becoming a samurai was lost to him. Even being offered a home amongst the farmer's family did little to ease the shame he felt. He may not have been samurai, but more than once Shino had considered the idea of seppuku, ritual suicide. One day the thoughts became more and Shino had blindly wandered into the nearby forest to die alone. Unbeknownst to him, he was followed by the farmer, who stopped Shino before he managed to commit the act. He revealed to Shino that wasn't always a farmer, he was in fact once a samurai. He convinced Shino that all was not lost and vowed to teach him to overcome his affliction and become a truly splendid swordsman.For five years, Shino learned to fight with a blade once more without the use of sight. He learned to listen to world around him for the slightest sounds, to follow the most benign of scents, to feel the shifts in weight of his blade and the vibrations of his attacks. He trained himself into peak condition, way beyond what he had before he lost his eyes. By the time Shino finished his training, his loss of sight had transformed from his greatest liability, to his greatest asset.His tutelage complete, Shino bid his new family farewell to start a life of his own, free of fear. For how can one fear what they cannot see?

Disclaimer: I'm sure I don't have to even say anything about this. I'm sure you're not stupid. At least I hope not. -Guidelines. 01. Strictly 18+ novella, as the headline says. Mature themes ahead. 02. Respect. That being said - don't steal any of my sh*t. Thanks. 03. Roleplay mechanics; comments must be in third person. Godmoding and metagaming isn't allowed - I'm capable of controlling my own character - however, feel free to use my NPC's as you wish (but, death of said NPC's should be discussed with me first.) And please, have your f***ing characters have flaws and weaknesses - they aren't perfect, and I just get annoyed with god-like characters that are above everyone and everything in the universe. If you're one of those? Go away now. 04. And speaking of NPC's - I've listed just a few, and they're only the people who Astrid has met in her life. As well as the places I've listed and mentioned. It's all from Astrid's point of view - so this is pretty much free game for you. There's SO much more than what she knows, and what she has seen. There's more people in certain gangs that I have already mentioned, (being that gangs usually range from 4-10 people) and there's so many gangs out there that you can literally feel free to make some up. Use your creativity, you can make up a new company/gang/person/magazine/jobs/brands/products, etc. Anything that's needed to suit the SL's needs; as long as it makes sense. 05. What year is this? The year 3000. Yup - all the way in the distant future. The world is nowhere near normal, and A LOT is capable of happening. Put your head in gear, I'm sure SL discussions would be easy peasy. 06. I goof around in bulletins a lot. All I ask, is for you to mind your business if you're not being addressed in said post. Feel free to read it, laugh at it, if you must - but don't jump into the conversation, especially when it's in the form of a mini-RP that can't possibly have a third person involved. If it's an open discussion, and I'm just joking around, then go ahead and make a comment, join right in. Otherwise? Keep your trap shut, even if you open your mouth, I'll just ignore you. Save yourself from the embarrassment. Have a problem with my posts? There's a nifty little button called "delete," learn to use it. Please and thank you. 07. OOC drama is not accepted. However, IC drama is welcomed. Keeps things moving along. 08. Multi-SL - which means, different characters, different scenarios, different relationships, etc. etc. But, of course - I play favorites. -Vocabulary. Dust/Dusted: Dead, but usually used as a term for a non-violent death.Ghost/Ghosted: Dead, usually used as a term for someone who was killed, versus dying of a natural cause.Dust Angels/Desert Rats: Another name used for the residents of the Outlands, mainly used by City people.Firefight: Fight involving ray guns.Eleven: A name mostly used by Outlander's to refer to Xaviax Industries - shortened to X.I. which together, makes the roman numeral eleven (XI), hence the nickname.Pig: Term used to describe gang members that have betrayed their own gang for another, or have joined the Government, selling out their gang, in order to live. Zaps/Zappers: A slang for ray guns.Urbanites: A term used by Outlanders for the residents of the City.Runners: People in the gangs that are assigned to make the dangerous travels to the City in order to bring back anything of use for the gang. The ones brave enough to risk their lives for their gang members. In closing; That's it from your friendly neighborhood Spiderman! Message with any questions you might have, blah-blah-blah, enjoy your time, and stay alive. -Astrid R. Blue. Cherry Bomb.

The archer walks unto a long abandoned cliff side walkway, his eyes darting around, his hands shaking. It had been a very long time since he had come here and he had good reason for it. Mainly, too many bad memories and the beginnings of hangovers that never seemed to end. Still, he felt a connection to the ghosts that haunted this place. The ocean roared beneath him and the wind blew harshly against his face, reminding him of how this place was to him emotionally. How he shouldn't be here now. How he couldn't take the memories of her voice screaming out to him. Then there was the reunion. Then there was the recollections that flooded his mind. The hot tub. The night they made love as if there would be no tomorrow. Those memories stung his heart almost as bad as the wind stung his face. One singular door was closed, the other one, he knew was protected almost as strongly as a bomb bunker. There's always those moments in  a person's life when their torn between what's real and what is a lie. On the outside, they smile and act like everything in the world is perfect. Yet, on the inside, they hurt. They look for some sort of understanding to help them towards that next step in life. Sometimes that step leads to a crossroads, you know, the one that people spoke on back in the day that could lead to happiness or despair. In a lot of ways I'm standing there now but for some reason, one I don't know for sure yet, well....I know I'll choose the right one. It's been years, more years than even I want to admit too but I still feel that connection with her. I don't think I ever lost it to begin with. I've had those fantasies that most men have about that perfect woman but mine have always been more simpler. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Something as small as a hug, a sweet caress, a cuddle, hell..even a smile can lead me in a direction that can bring out the best in me. I'm not the type that is hard to make happy. I just need the right person to provide that spark in my soul to make me happy. This was the same location, one he had traveled to many times without anyone knowing about. That one place where it seemed all of his thoughts seemed to trickle from fantasy to reality and then back to heartache. So many years, so many memories...some standing out screaming to him but others seemingly fading away. The location was the pacific coastline overlooking the beaches of Palos Verdes. His thoughts? Where they had been for years before now..on a woman that he could never forget no matter how hard he had tried. Clint's finger's traced along the wooden railing overlooking the beach line at least fifty foot below him, his eyes locked on the stars in the sky. This is where he went to think of her and the significant impact she had on his life. It had been a long time since he had seen her but his thoughts had never wavered. He still loved her and there was no doubt in his mind that he would until his dying day. The truth, one that had hit him earlier like an anvil to his head was simple, she had moved on to greener pastures while he was away. He couldn't blame her though. How could he? He was the one that left her when life became tough. As always, Clint took the high road out and tried to protect those that he cared about. His motto had always been out of sight out of mind. Still, it never occurred to him just how far out of mind he would be. His struggles and redemptions, fails and successes..none of that mattered now. All that seemed to make any sense was the future and the path he would take.  Which led his thoughts back to the crossroads. If he took the left, it would only lead him back into the past...a past that he loved and one he would never forget. On the right however was something more shinier. A new beginning. A chance to forget everything that had broken his heart in his life.  Choices...life..decisions..  When would life ever be simple? Choices easy...the only way to find out was to make that choice.....

Below is a starter I sent to Charlie Weasley.  Since he abandoned my ass, thought I might as well put it to good use and post it here as an okay example of my writing.Enjoy: "How soon before he gets here?"  Her voice was hushed; her tone held a hint of reverence in it, or maybe it was respect?  Either way, her partner, Bill Weasley cast a quick sideways glance at her, brow lifted quizzically before returning to follow her gaze upward.     Bill and Hermione Granger stood at the apex of a narrow river that began at the soaring base of a waterfall that fell from high, high above them.  So high in fact, that the rich coffee and cocoa hues of the rock face turned gradually darker and shifted in color and intensity until they became a mix of vibrant blues, grays and purples, continuing onward and upward far beyond their line of sight.  (https://www.flickr.com/photos/40001315@N00/5968225905/ - since it won't let me post the image) It was without a doubt one of the most spectacular places that Hermione had ever been on this earth.  The fluttering mixture of excitement and terror that had had her nearly breathless since arriving a week ago, only grew when Harry had casually mentioned two evenings before, when the entire group was seated around a firepit for dinner, that Charlie Weasley was assembling a team and en route to The Site.    Bill had grown uncharacteristically quiet after that and had only commented to Harry that that was probably a good idea, and since then had not said much more on the matter.   This was the first time Hermione dared broach the subject with Bill.  She knew her friend well enough, too well in fact, that when he got quiet like this, it was best to let him work through whatever was going on and deal with it when he was ready to speak.  She needed to get to work however, and the anxiousness was showing in her demeanor, which was why she brought up Charlie.  Hermione had no idea why they were strained around each other.  She could never quite figure it out.  Like there were pieces to a puzzle that she couldn't fit into their appropriate spots.  When Bill didn't answer she let out a long breath, turned and began the trek back to Base Camp, a few meters down river from the falls.  The ground beneath their feet was slick from the overflow of the river, the loose gravel and mossy rocks made the going slow.  If you weren't paying attention or were trying to get away too fast, you were going to end up on your bum, wet and soggy and scraped up.  She'd just moved one step too long and hit a mossy spot when she squealed and toppled over.  Strong arms were there in an instant to right her and Hermione turned, flush faced and grateful to smile at Bill.  "Thanks."    Bill waited till they'd passed the slick stones and crossed over the smallest point of the river and were out of the slippery zone before he released the firm grip on her arm.  He'd been silent and Hermione knew he was working up whatever it was he wanted to tell her before he spoke.  Finally, his grip eased and he let her go, pausing for a moment to turn and give a quick glance over his shoulder back and upward to the dark gap in the wall of rocks that Hermione and he had just been observing.  It was the Cave where it, the Beast was currently residing.   Satisfied that there was no threatening activity or movement he plunged his hands into his pockets and rolled his shoulders, "Harry said he should arrive today."  Hermione nodded, eyes forward, wincing from a scrap on her ankle that had dashed against a jagged stone when she nearly fell.  "I am," Bill paused, trying to find the right way to say this without it sounding like a big brother lording it over his kid brother.  He sighed and lifted a shoulder, "I am concerned, HJ.  This is big.  This situation we're in.  This is dangerous and if it weren't for the fact that you're the best, there's no way in hell I'd have let you come along either. Let alone have my brother here to step into a seriously life-threatening situation like the one we're in right now."  Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, turning to stare at Bill with mouth agape.  "Don't look at me like that, kiddo.  You know I respect the hell out of you and your abilities, but this is different."   "How so?"  Her cheeks had flushed in anger and surprise.  She didn't even comment on his nickname for her.  He was the only person to call her "HJ" and she disliked it immensely, but hadn't been able to stop him from using it throughout the years no matter the threatening tone or looks she'd shot him. "Bill Weasley, we have been working together for years.  I have been in life and death situations with you," she paused, shaking her head at the rush of memories that flooded her, "far too many times to count.  Which you are well aware.  How on earth can you possibly say this is any different? Having Charlie here will only aid us. For heaven's sakes, he knows how to handle creatures like this one.  It is what he does, Bill.  He is the expert in a scenario like this, not us."    Bill shook his head, his grown out hair was loose and wild about his shoulders, it haloed his face in an auburn glow, he yanked a hand from one pocket and jabbed a thumb out over his shoulder, glowering at her. "No.  He doesn't.  Not one like this.  There is a several thousand pound dragon that has been cursed sitting right there over our shoulders, probably watching us right now and debating on who it wants for a midmorning snack and who it wants for lunch."  Bill's tone was low and sharp.  "I can't break a curse with an animate, wild creature that refuses to stand still long enough for us to get close to it or better yet, try to dodge its cursed fire that's already killed four team members and countless others in the village at the base of this mountain. He can't tame a dragon that you cannot get near without the threat of being killed."  Bill's voice never rose in volume, but his eyes were flashing blue daggers at her.  "You're the genius in our little group, I'd have thought that was a no brainer!"    Hermione gaped at him, astounded. He cannot be serious? "You cannot be serious?"   "Deadly."   She shook her head in exasperation.  "That is the point, is it not?  What is the necessity in taming a dragon that you can walk right up to and pet?  Merlin!" Hermione actually flung her hands in the air.  Bill had always been the picture of professionalism and was known for never losing his cool in the face of danger.   She had not to her knowledge seen him like this, ever.  It hit her like a blow to her gut then.  Instantly, the nervous flutters that had been blowing about her belly became a full-blown roiling, churning storm of anxiety.    Bill Weasley was frightened.    Oh. This was bad.   She was smarting from the callous tone, but now recognized with sudden clarity what was going on. Bill and probably Harry as well, if Bill was so gravely concerned, must think that a good number of people wouldn't be making it out of here alive before they got this beast either killed or under control. And Bill was worried Charlie would be one of those people.    Hermione reached out a hand and rested it on Bill's arm reassuringly. He gave her a long look, eyes still flashing.  "He won't get killed, Bill.  You, Harry and I will not let that happen."  Emotion churned behind deep blue eyes when he stared at her and she knew she'd hit the bulls-eye.   He forcibly returned his hand to his pocket, spun around and began moving down the gravel path that was gradually becoming soft earth beneath their feet as they entered a thicket of woods nearing Base Camp.    The unspoken thought was obvious; there had already been too much death in his family to lose another member.   Hermione followed along behind him, her words ringing thick in the air between them.   "No one has ever seen a dragon like this one before."  Bill reminded her of something that had become obvious the moment everyone had gotten a good look at the beast as it circled over their heads that first day when they'd entered the clearing by the waterfall.   It has killed one man and two more before they'd gotten down the clearing, out of its line of sight.  The fire it shot from its mouth had blazed incandescent blue and curled like a corkscrew downward, literally chasing its victim, like a muggle heat-seeking missal. They had since discovered if you were wet and/or cold, the cursed flame had less accuracy, but not till they had lost one more team member to discover, leaving a death toll of four so far from the Ministry.   Harry Potter had arrived that same day of the deaths and had brought a team of Aurors with him to work with Bill in containing and bringing the Beast down.  It wasn't until it had nearly leveled their first base camp, too close to its roost for the beast's likings, did they spot the huge rune carved or burned into its scaled skin.  Bill and Harry had marveled at how that could have happened in the first place.  You cannot penetrate a dragon's scales - period.  Yet this one had been.  You couldn't even get close to this thing without the strongest of protective wards around your person and even then you were left feeling like you'd been zapped by lightening if its fire hit your ward.    Then there was the beast itself.  It was easily the largest dragon that either Bill or Harry had seen and they both decided that they needed Hermione there to get to work on that symbol.  Both men knew it was part of the case they were already working on once they'd seen it.    Hermione, upon arriving at Base Camp a week earlier with her small team, had only seen the dragon twice so far and both times had been awed by its size, ferocity and sheer beauty.  It was the most beautiful dragon she had ever seen.  Bill and Harry took turns with her, guarding her like she was some child.  Harry had scolded her when she'd gone to the edge of the river to take some samples of the soil and water and to document where they had been attacked.  She'd gotten a good look at the symbol carved upon its back at that encounter and confirmed to Harry and Bill what they already knew - that this was in fact, a symbol that matched in similarity to the others they'd found carved upon the victims in the mysterious deaths they'd been investigating for the past few months.   Somehow, some way this poor creature was a part of the case they were working on.  It was also the first living thing they'd come across with a symbol on it, which made her desire to examine it up close that much more important and necessary.  She and Bill had gone first thing in the morning to check out the lair and document any activity from the beast.  It was too dangerous to keep any one or two persons on a constant surveillance so there were teams that staggered throughout the day to observe.  Never at the same time, in case the Dragon became aware of any patterns and decided to strike.   This morning had been Bill and Hermione's turn.  She'd been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to get a look at the narrow cave opening and they had spent a good few minutes longer at the base of the falls than they probably should have, but they both agreed it was necessary to figure out how and if they could even get near the cave to go in.  They'd not had any idea how to get close to it without bringing the Dragon out.  Maybe Charlie would have ideas.  She was sure he would.    If anyone was needed here at this moment, it was Charlie Weasley.   And she'd be immensely glad to see him when he arrived.   Bill's comment jarred her out of her thoughts and she rolled her eyes behind his back.  "All the more reason for Charlie to be on hand.  Bill, we need his expertise."    Bill spun around on her so fast that she ran smack into his chest; he looked down at her, hands automatically gripping her arms to steady her.  "Hermione, I have never said this before.  I've never thought it before, if I'm being honest."  Bill's tone was gruff and his eyes locked on hers, steady and intense as he spoke, "But nothing we are doing here today is worth losing another life.  Do you understand?"    No she didn't understand and conversely, yes she completely understood.  Bill was afraid Charlie was going to get hurt.    But it didn't change the fact that they needed Charlie.    Hermione had opened her mouth to say just that but Bill's head had snapped up, eyes growing wide and locked on a point over her head, his fingers dug into her arms painfully as he literally jerked her forward, propelling her in front of him in one swift move.  His free hand brandishing his wand, the other at the small of her back shoving her forward, "Time to go!" was all he said and Hermione pulled her own wand out, glancing once over her shoulder and gasping at the sight.  "Go! Go!"  Bill was running full speed into the woods, Hermione and he dodging and circling behind the giant tree trunks of the towering pine trees, hopping and barely keeping upright over tree roots and thickets of slick pine needles.  The Dragon was overhead, circling lazily lower and lower.  They could hear the breaking of branches high above their heads as its claws ripped tops off the trees to get a better look at them.  They were near the Base Camp, but that would mean having to run through a clearing in the trees and they both skidded to a stop just short of  said opening.    Bill yanked her back behind a tree, they both hunkered down, out of breath and trying to be as invisible as possible from the huge beast that alighted in the space between them and Base Camp.  Hermione was terrified.   She could feel the sweat upon her body cold as the cool breeze of early morning and the woods brushed against her skin.  Her hearing was strained, neither one moved, Bill's eyes were locked on hers, he waved his wand and created a soundproof ward around them, whispering low, "Ideas?"   Hermione shook her head.  "Not a one. We can't get around that thing.  We have our wards up, but.."  Something struck her then.  Something that she'd not even considered before this second.  "can that thing touch us?  Our wards are to prevent being killed by its fire.  What about it snatching one of us bodily?"   Bill had already considered this idea; she could see it in the set of his jaw.  "Don't think that they work like that.  Might give it a little sting, but I'd wager if it wants to snatch one of us, it's going to do just that."   Hermione groaned.  "Swell."   They both peeked around the tree, Base Camp was a flurry of activity.  Obviously, they knew what was going on.  Hermione and Bill were still out there... the beast was effectively trapping them from safety.   "We can pick our way around the other side of the camp? Come in from the other end?"  Bill nodded he was thinking the same thing.  "I think that's our only option."   They both moved and froze when a bolt of blue fire wizzed by their heads.  Hermione's eyes shut and Bill had pressed himself over her to shield her as best he could.  They were in trouble.   It was then, that out of the sky they heard the unmistakable sound of a dragon's cry from high above.   Hermione's eyes popped open, she and Bill both risked a peek around the tree and she let out a whoosh of breath she'd not been aware she was holding.  A tremulous smile curled at the corner of her lips.  She glanced at Bill and uttered one word.   His name.  "Charlie.."   He was here.  

Alright, I'm gonna try to keep these as short as possible, so as to avoid rambling. Let me start first by saying I'm not Axl Rose, and I don't own any of his pictures. I, as well as my character, have nothing to do with the man.Now, moving on...:)1. Limited sexual content. That shit ain't what I'm here for.2. I'm a Multi-para/Novella roleplayer. I don't really dig oneliners all too much, if I'm being totally honest.3. Please don't take my pictures or storyline; I'll love you forever if you refrain from such a thing.4. If we're gonna discuss a story, don't leave the whole thing up to me. Joint efforts are much more appreciated.5. I don't expect perfect spelling and grammar, I just need to be able to understand the points you're trying to make.Painless, right?I hope. So, you should sign these...And put your favorite band in your signature. I'd love you forever, once again.:)-Mitch Breland.

Raw, NXT & SmackDown - looks like shows will be held back due to inactivity from half the roster but I will keep everyone updated Michael Cole - the new director of GTA 3 is calling a hiatus as the show will be on hiatus for some time and Saint Rows will soon be making beig debut OVW - big news over on myspace a new OVW has begun and also set to appear on the show for august 18 are Brett DiBiase, Justin Gabriel and Dolph Ziggler

Before roleplaying with me, we need to go through some guidelines/rules or however you wanna call it. I know it's a lot of reading, but this is important. PLEASE take a moment of your time to read this.FRIEND REQUESTS:Once being accepted, it will be because I trust you or if I know you in OOC. There might be times I accidentally add/accept you. If that happens, then I'll delete you right after I realize I added or been accepted by someone. Most of the time I am pretty careful on who I add though. If I do add you and if I don't know you, I will probably give our roleplay a try.  If I had you on my friends list for a while and all of the sudden if I'm not on your friends list, there probably was a reason why. It probably won't be because of the number problem. I actually don't mind being a number. But if I ever did delete you, it'll be because you did something that I don't like or got me really annoyed. There are also many of other reasons why I would delete someone, so if you don't want to be deleted off of my friends list, you would follow my rules. If I ever do go on a deleting spree, all of my mains are safe! They should know who they are!  PHOTOS: I edit all of my photos on photoshop/photofiltre. Before I even had these programs on my computer, I've been using the online photo editors. If you ever want the link where I got the photoshop/photofiltre from, feel free to ask. I don't mind giving it to you, but it might take a while to find the link for it since I have one of them saved somewhere and the other link I don't have saved, but mostly know where to find it. Either that or google it or buy the photoshop. DO NOT STEAL MY PICTURES! Yes, I'm aware that I found them on the internet, but if you want a certain picture, PLEASE ASK! I edit them and then put a tag on them. If I find out that anyone stole a photo of mine that I uploaded, then I'll delete you. If you want one of my edits, feel free to ask. I don't mind making one or a few for you. If you asked and keep hounding me to make it for you right away, then I'll just say forget it. I'm not going to even bother making one for you. It'll be because you're pressuring me and I might not feel like making you a photo at that time. If I say I'll make you a photo, I will mean I will make you a photo. BUT if it does take like a month or more than that for me to edit one for you I don't mind you asking again because I could have forgotten to make you one. If there's a certain photo you want me to edit for you, send me the photo. If you have read this far, please tell me what your favourite TV show is, in the comments below.  MAINS:I do have a group for Grey's Anatomy, Charmed, General Hospital, One Life to Live, etc... It all depends on what I'm roleplaying and where I put these rules on, which will be mostly on all of my pages/accounts, since I'm trying to make this for all of them. I will not accept more than one of each character as my mains. If I do, then I have my own reason why and I will not explain why.  STORYLINE:Please message me before starting a storyline. Just because I roleplay from a show, doesn't mean I follow it. Just like my Starr Manning account, I do follow the show, but not all of it. I have another Starr Manning account that I don't even follow the show at all and I make my own storylines. Most of the time, I don't follow the show and the other time I do. It depends on if I like the storyline on the show or not. If the show that I roleplay from is done and not making new ones, then I will make up my own storylines simple as that. Just because the show is done, doesn't mean you can't roleplay them anymore, right? If my character is original, then I most likely won't follow the show, because well, they're original. In some cases, some of my characters aren't from shows. IMPORTANT DETAILS:Please try to use good grammar. I hate when people can't use good grammar and when I'm trying to get to replies, I can't even do them because people doesn't use it. Put some effort into your replies/messages or whatever you're doing for me to read. So please try to do the best you can. I get that you could make a mistake, and that's okay. Before sending out a reply, read over it and correct any corrections you need to do. Please, please, PLEASE do not use text talk. I absolutely hate it! Sorry, but most of the time when people talks like that, I don't really understand it. There are times people says something to me and I have to ask them what that means. It's mostly because I never heard of those certain text talk before so I have to ask what they mean. If you send a starter, it has to be three to four paragraphs. After that, I at least want Para. No semi-para but para. So, let's say each paragraph has to be five to eight sentences in them, depending on how big they are. If you want to add more, then do it. I don't really care. As long as it's para plus, I'm happy. But I WILL NOT ACCEPT NOVELLA! It's way too much for me. I'm normally a multi-para not novella. All though, there are times I write and can't stop writing. It happens. DO NOT GOD-MODE MY CHARACTER! I don't like it when people control my characters. If I find that someone controls my character, then I'll stop roleplaying with you and delete you off of my friends list. If I ever let someone to god-mode, it'll be only to my characters love interest. But that'll rarely happen though because I like to control my own character. If I have a love interest for my character, that person will be my love interest for the time being and mostly will also be my characters love interest. So, if my character is single, doesn't mean he/she is available. It'll probably mean they have a love interest already, but haven't yet admitted their feelings. If my character is taken then my character will not cheat on the love interest. My characters aren't cheaters unless if it was for a storyline that I'm doing. When it comes to messages and comments, I don't care where we discuss storylines or just to talk. Preferably in messages though because people may want to snoop into our OOC talk, I don't want that. Roleplaying is only for comments. I don't really care if people see that since I have nothing to hide. It's only roleplaying anyway. I do allow drugs, violence, raping. As long as it's in our storyline, I will allow it. If it gets to far, I will say something. I don't want people to be raping my character all the time though. Especially since if it's a character who is giving their body away for the other person to use however they want to use it for. Again, if it gets out of hand, I will message you about it. You do need to message and discuss it with me first before deciding to rap my character. Otherwise, I will say something or won't answer back, possibly delete you off of my list as well.  OOC:If I'm not around, then it'll mostly be because real life is calling me and I must go to it. It's way more important than being on here all the time. If something ever comes up in real life, I have to go to it, meaning I won't be on all the time and it could be possible I might be taking a hiatus break. When it comes to replies, please wait. I get that most of you want to roleplay with active roleplayers. Honestly, active roleplayers, doesn't mean that you reply to them in the next couple of days or sooner. Being on the profile every day or close to everyday means active. If I say I'll get to replies, obviously means I'll get to replies. It will take time because most of the time I'm just lazy to get to the replies. Lately, I've been pretty good with the replies, depending on who I'm roleplaying on and maybe with. If you have read this far, please tell me  which horror movie is your favorite (if you do not have a favorite horror movie then tell me who your favorite Disney character is) below.  Please do not bug me for replies. I'll get to them when I feel like it and I know you'll do the same so as long as you don't have a problem with me not replying quick enough or that day, we'll be fine. I'll most likely reply in a few days anyway. I understand that a lot of roleplayers just doesn't have one profile/account. If that's the case, please try to be on your character who is connected with my character at least a few times a week or maybe once every week. It doesn't matter if you reply to me or not. I'm very patient when it comes to replies. Go ask a few people who I roleplay with. I'm sure they'll tell you how patient I am when it comes to that. Just as you guys know, this isn't my only roleplaying account. I have lots more, mainly because I'm this nice person who does favors for people and/or if I feel like making another. I do try to come on everyday to check up on stuff. If not every day, then a few times a week. It depends on what's going on and how busy I am. If I am extremely busy, I will notify everyone through messages, comments, the stream statuses, and/or through bulletins. PLEASE REMEMBER THERE ARE TWO HIDDEN THINGS IN THE RULES. I'LL KNOW IF YOU READ MY RULES OR NOT!It is possible that I will update this. ;)

LE TORTURÉ BELLATRIX BLACK || BLACK HEARTED   Darkness was only interrupted by shadows cast by fluttering flames in the fireplace. A dark haired witch sat in solitary silence, the only sound coming from those very same fluttering flames. The crackling sound did nothing to break the concentration of the witch. Her long nails rapped over the wooden armrest of her chair, scratching the surface over and over.    Waiting. She was waiting with bated breath for word from her Master. Word that he had succeeded. It was the thirty-first of October 1981 and he had gone after Harry Potter in an attempt to defeat a prophecy.  She’d suggested in front of her peers to go with him.  'You dare question my ability?' "Of course not. Never my Lord." And she had shrunk back into herself.  She'd nearly begged behind closed doors.    "I just do not think it wise, my Lord." Robes fluttering around her frame as she followed behind him, just a few feet, paying no mind to the snake that seemed to try to trip her up. "What if this is a trap?"  'While I value your loyalty, Bellatrix, do not doubt my willingness to kill you as well if you interfere.' Doubt him, she dared not. She had been on the receiving end of his wand and his curses before. As his protege, she had learned early not to disappoint, not to defy or she would suffer the consequences.    A some point hours later in the dark of the night, she had risen from her chair, pacing the perimeter of her sitting room. Her heels added to the sound of the crackling fire, but still the room was silent otherwise. And then she froze, the tapping of her feet silenced. She felt it. She felt it as a physical pain. She felt it as if it were her own body, her own soul with which was being torn apart. There was a shift in the air, she could feel it. The way the hairs raised on the back of her neck. It was as if the balance of energy had changed in the width of a second.   She thrived in the darkness and the powerful energy she could always feel as if it were a second skin - the power of her Lord. But suddenly.... suddenly it was not there.  She stood in frozen silence, searching desperately for anything... anything that would convince her she was wrong... that he wasn't gone.  But, his energy was just gone. Vanished. As if he had vanished.  Her mind reeled at the thought.  No, that couldn't be. He couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible. A baby? A bloody baby could not possibly be his downfall. He was stronger than this, this prophecy, this infant. He was the most powerful wizard she knew. His power put hers to shame and by Merlin's blood she was a force to be reckoned with.    Her silently racing mind was interrupted by the sound of her husband's voice.  'Bella... what is it, my love?' But the look she turned on him was dangerous, icy blue eyes turned to molten steel in the oncoming rage. How could he not feel it too? The absence in the air? She was torn between sobbing and screaming. But no, crying was weakness and she was not weak and so she did the only other thing that felt natural to her.  "Crucio!" to Rodolphus's credit he was able to stand the damaging curse for far longer than most, he having grown used to the only way his wife knew to cope. That didn't mean Bellarix let up any sooner than his knees hit the ground though, stalking towards her husband as a mountain lion would a fawn it intended to make dinner.    She knelt in front of him, coming nose to nose with Rodolphus as he panted, trying to regain his breath. "He is gone you fool, don't you feel it?" It was little more than a whisper, but her anger and distress filled each word.  She was on her feet again before Rodolphus even had time to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Bellatrix hurled herself across the room, throwing open windows that had seen many lifetimes of Lestrange family members. She leaned out of the third story window and for a split second her husband thought she meant to kill her self and he wouldn't put it past her in her state of obvious distress. Just as her wand raised to the sky, painted lips shouting "Morsmorde" skyward, Rodolphus dragged her back from the window by her waist.    "No!" She shouted, throwing her head back - smirking as the sound of crunching cartilage sounded in her ears, his grip on her instantly loosening. She turned, momentarily distracted from her distress to see blood falling down Rodolphus's face despite his attempt to wipe it away. "Such a shame." She muttered , wiping at the crimson liquid herself, before darting back towards the window to watch the green snake and skull crawl its way across the sky. She would find the Dark Lord if she had to torture the information out of every last auror herself.     “Morsmorde.”   CREDIT: JAMES KRIET     LE TORTURÉ - part 2 BELLATRIX BLACK || BLACK HEARTED Cowards. The lot of them. Lucius Malfoy. Evan Rosier. The list could go on. Barty and Rabastan had been the only ones to join Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Only two other people had answered her call. Well, they’d have to deal with the wrath of their master when he returned.    Over forty-eight hours had passed. No word from the Dark Lord. No further information. Though they had managed to secure one Frank Longbottom. Bellatrix had thought that surely  Frank would have information as to the Dark Lord’s sudden disappearance. After all the Longbottom child had been the other possibility to the prophecy her master went in search of defeating. But despite their best efforts, despite Bella’s best efforts, Frank had remained tight lipped and refused to give anything away. Even his mind was full of promises of not knowing anything. Lies! Bellatrix knew they were, they just had to be.    Frank had long since become quiet. No more screams, barely a whimper really in the face of even Rabastan or Rodolphus’s worst Cruciatus. Bellatrix had become bored with him not long after his screams subsided. What fun was torturing someone if they didn’t react? If all they did was whimper like a newborn kitten? No fun, and a waste of energy.    So, she’d left. Frank might have kept his mouth shut, but would the wife? With a little baby at home? Babies… Disgusting, crying, annoying… they were useless and she certainly didn’t want a child. Though for a short time she might have began to convince herself otherwise, until just like that it was gone. Just like her mind. Just any sense of right and wrong as she appeared with a pop at the end of a dark street.    The houses were all lined in neat little rows, all the windows darkened except for a few through which you could see the flickering of a fireplace’s flame. Such simplicity. Disgusting she thought as she slowly moved down the street.    The feline like grace with which she moved leant to the silence that she moved in, unnoticed, towards the Longbottom house, all the way down the street and to the end of the walkway where she paused. A muttered utterance under her breath, an anti-disapparation jinx to keep her prey where she wanted, and then she was on the move again. Up the walk way, just as quietly. A single light shown dimly from a room in the upstairs, drawing Bella’s attention up to it for a fraction of a second before she turned her attention to the door. Three quick rasps upon the hard wood, polite almost, as if waiting to be accepted in, as if anyone would allow Bellatrix Lestrange into their home.   “Oh Alice!” She shouted, her voice carrying a sing-song lilt as she taunted the younger woman, “Let me in, I promise not to bite.” Though she didn’t promise not to main or grievously injure.    She waited for the width of a breath, two or three ticks on a clock, before blasting her way into the home. "I guess with force it is!" She called as she stepped into the house. A glance around showed her an empty, but quaint living area. Icy eyes turned towards the stairs that lead up the far wall, she had seen a light in the upstairs room after all. “Ohh, Alice. Come out, come out wherever you are.” She called.   A clack followed by another, her feet announcing her slow movements across the room. She rolled her head, smirking as her neck cracked once or twice. A light glinting off of a knick knack  as she passed it caught her eye and without a second thought she swiped it to the ground, chuckling as the glass fell and shattered. She kicked at the mess before stepping over it. The sound of a baby’s cry drew her focus once more to the stair case.  “Hush little baby, don't say a word.”   “Oh, a little baby.” Of course she knew it’d be there, probably. Neville Longbottom the other baby boy born in the month of June. Of course he’d be with his mother. She heard feet hurry down the hallway, away from the stairs and towards what Bellatrix could only assume to be the room that belonged to the source of the crying.  “Mummy dearest!” She took the steps two at a time, throwing herself around the banister, wand at the ready. But the hallway was empty, all the doors closed, not that there were many. The first she kicked in showed a bathroom, the banging sound the door made inciting the infant to cry again.    “Hush little baby, don’t say a word…” She hummed, turning to the door across the hallway.    Long fingers reached out to turn the knob, pushing the door open at the same time she flew herself across the doorway. She was not stupid. Alice was a trained Auror, protecting a child, she was not going to come easy. And not easy Alice proved herself to be, a hex thrown a jinx quickly following, but Bellatrix blocked them with ease, stepping back into the doorway.    “Bella’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.” She taunted, blocking and parrying each of Alice’s thrown spells. “You should have disapparated away.” Bella teased before letting out a cackle and throwing another jinx at the woman. “Oh you can’t.” She spoke followed by “Incarserus!” The glint of glee that graced her face when out of no where ropes appeared and trapped Alice was unmatched. She knew she’d won, the younger witch toppling under the weight of the jinx, so she moved into the room. “I’ve trained with the Dark Lord since I was barely a woman… did you really think you could win?” She asked, kicking the toppled woman as she approached the crib Alice’d been valiantly defending. “Ickle bitty baby. Look at you now… Sorry chap, gonna take your mummy for a little talk. Just a girl talk.”    She turned back to the woman, rolling her eyes at the sobbing and begging the younger witch was doing. “Oh, I’ll leave the baby alone.” Bella muttered, crouching down to be closer to eye level with the woman, “He doesn’t have the answers I seek.” She shrugged. “Silencio.” She snapped momentarily annoyed by Alice’s begging. “Now, don’t move too much, wouldn’t want to splinch an arm off or worse… your head.”    ————— They arrived back at Lestrange Manor where Bellatrix unceremoniously dropped Alice on the hard granite floor of the ballroom. “Incisura.” The raved haired witch spoke, slicing the ropes that bound Alice. She was quick to retrieve the other’s wand, snapping it and throwing it to the side.    “Now, we can do this the easy way…” She stepped back, one foot then the other, ignoring the sets of eyes that were on her now. “Or the hard way… Crucio!” She wouldn’t leave the hard way to the imagination. She’d just get right to it. She let the screams go on for just a handful of seconds, long enough to appreciate the tone of Alice’s wails of pain, appreciate the way her body bowed before the curse, curling around herself.    “Now where is the Dark Lord!” She demanded, glaring at the defiance the woman showed by pushing herself into a seated position, but remaining tight lipped.    “Crucio!” She shouted, wand aimed directly at Alice. A smirk spread across her features as Alice tried unsuccessfully to giving Bellatrix the satisfaction of knowing her curse hurt. The scream that emitted from Alice’s mouth bounced around the room creating a sort of symphony for the off-her-rocker witch. She dragged the curse on for several long moments, reveling in the screams and eventually the contortion of Alice’s body. She contorted in unnatural ways, her muscles and tendons trying to flee from the searing pain, a pain brought on by the intensity of Bellatrix’s anger at the loss of her master.    “Do you have an answer now?” Bella shrieked, dropping her wand hand for only a moment to allow the woman the barest of chances to answer.    “I… I don’t know.” Came the whispered reply.   But the answer was not what Bellatrix wanted. “LIES! Crucio!”      CREDIT: JAMES KRIET   LE TORTURÉ - Part 3 BELLATRIX BLACK || BLACK HEARTED The darkness of night had given rise to a new day. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the grand ballroom - a ballroom never used any longer for its intended purpose - of Lestrange Manor. Bellatrix paced the perimeter of the room, her chest heaving as she drew in deep heavy breaths. Alice Longbottom lay near motionless in a crumpled heap in the middle of the room.  “She has to know.” It was whispered under the raven haired witch’s breath. “She has to. They did something. They did something to him.” She carried on in the same fashion for another several minutes, talking to herself. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two since the Dark Lord had disappeared.  Alice whimpered, drawing Bellatrix’s attention back to her. Bella watched as Alice moved, rolling over to her back before becoming still again, the only sign of life being the rise and fall of her chest. A scowl came over her face and she stalked towards the younger witch, coming to a stop a handful of centimeters from Alice and staring down at her.  “Now, Alice… You’ve chosen the hard way, would you like to do this the easy way?” She paused for a moment, looking down at the woman. “If you did not do anything, what did the Aurors do with the Dark Lord?”  When Alice did not answer her, Bellatrix screeched in anger. In an instant she was atop the woman, dagger pulled from somewhere within her skirts. “Tell me!” She bellowed, nose to nose with Alice, dagger digging into the flesh of her cheek. Alice still did not speak, closing her eyes and letting out the smallest of whimpers. All the lack of response did was to further enrage the deranged witch causing her to press the dagger into the woman’s flesh harder, drawing the blade down to watch a thin red line blossom against the otherwise pale cheek, laughing as the whimper became a cry. “Such a pity.” Bella seethed in little more than a whisper. “Such pretty pure blood put to such traitorous waste!” The dagger was dropped beside Alice’s head, Bella’s index finger moving to wipe through the blood as it pooled and spilled down Alice’s cheek.  Bella pushed off of the woman, standing back to her feet, her dagger left forgotten as she paced back across the room. Where was he? How did Frank and Alice not know? They had to know something. Apparently they didn’t call their lives, yes that must be it. They just didn’t care about their lives. Or they cared too much for their stupid cause, a pitiful and sad cause. For there was no greater cause than that of purifying the Wizarding race.     “Such pretty pure blood put to such traitorous waste.” She returned to Alice’s side a moment later. “Get up.” She demanded, waiting for a fraction of a second before moving to grab the woman by her hair. She yanked the woman up, dragging her body into a kneeling position, caring not for the hair that came away in her hands. “I said get up!” She screeched, loosing the woman’s hair and stepped away from her.  The raven haired witch watched as the woman swayed, but somehow managed to stay upright. “Last chance…” Bellatrix muttered, bringing her wand to rest in long fingers. “Tell me what you know?!”  The truth was, Bellatrix knew the woman didn’t know anything. Invading her mind hours before, before she’d become little more than a heap of skin and bones like her husband. She didn’t want to admit it though. There could only be one answer for the fleeting promises of not knowing going through the woman’s mind when Bellatrix delved deep into the all too innocent mind and that answer was that she just had to be lying, even to herself. Alice Longbottom knew something and she was working hard to make sure Bellatrix didn’t find out.  “Fine!” Bellatrix snapped. “Incisura.” She muttered the jinx, watching as a fresh line of vibrant red spear across Alice’s face. “Incisura!” She slashed down with her wand, relishing in the scream it elicited as a cut dragged down Alice’s arm, spilling blood in its wake. The woman crumpled against the floor again and Bella screeched. “CRUCIO!” If the woman couldn’t stay upright, then the Cruciatus Curse it was. The curse dragged on, Bellatrix’s concentration and hatred raised high and pointed solely at Alice Longbottom. The curse dragged on even as the woman became still and she stopped making any noise, her mouth stretched as far as it would allow in a silent scream.  Rodolphus burst into the room, having left his wife be the entirety of the night. ’Bella, Aurors are here. We have to go.’ But Bellatrix refused to let her concentration waver. Bella, c’mon.’ He demanded, grabbing her by her arm and tugging at her.  She lost concentration and turned her hateful eyes on her husband. ”Then let them take me. My Lord will come for me and he will praise my efforts!” She proclaimed, for what did she have if not her Lord? In her mind, nothing.     CREDIT: JAMES KRIET     Lies She tells herself BELLATRIX BLACK || BLACK HEARTED p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000; min-height: 13.0px} p.p3 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000; min-height: 12.0px} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} I don’t care. She’s nothing to me. A blood traitor. Selfish really. Burn her off the tapestry, see if I care.   Lies that were told. To Aunt Wulburga. To Father. To Narcissa. To her husband - Rodolphus. Even to herself. Lies that were told in the wake of her sister running away with mudblood Ted Tonks.    I didn’t want it anyway. It was only a hinderance. I’m glad it’s gone.   Lies that were told. To her sister - the only one she spoke to anymore. To her husband - though she could tell her words hurt him. To her master - afraid he’d viewed her as anything but the warrior he trained her to be. To herself. Lies that were told in the wake of her miscarriage - a child she had never wanted but found herself oddly attached to as she had begun to feel it tossing and turning in her stomach.    ————— Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black was anything but motherly. She was a figurehead in the Dark Lord’s army. She was a warrior known for her ruthlessness. She was dark and dangerous and a force to be reckoned with.  She was not motherly. She was not caring.    Only she knew the truth. Only she knew what went through her head the night she watched with an emotionless mask as her sister - her dear little sister Andi - had been burned off the Black Family Tapestry. She hadn’t let Aunt Wulburga or Father or Cissy see the tears welling in the corner of her eyes. She wouldn’t let them see that weakness. She would show no weakness.    But it was that night that her husband and she had spent long hours duelling against each other. Rodolphus not wanting to broach the subject of his wife’s upset, but also knowing exactly what had caused it. They both knew what fueled the depth of her hexes and jinxes, what fueled the pain in her Cruciatus Curse. And for his wife, he’d take the pain, if it’d take away some of hers.  She’d turned darker that night. Less caring. More focused on the Dark Lord’s cause.    I don’t care. She’d a blood traitor. Serves her right for running off with a filthy mudblood. Rodolphus knew better.   It was near a month later that she had told him, told Rodolphus, that she was pregnant. He could see the sneer on her face, but the slight bit of light that had returned to her eyes told him she wasn’t as disgusted at the prospect as she tried to pretend to be.      “I don't care." p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000} p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000; min-height: 12.0px} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} But he couldn’t keep her down. She was out nearly every night doing the Dark Lord’s bidding. Fighting for his cause. And Rodolphus followed her, trying his best to keep his wife and child safe without Bellatrix noticing he was doing so. He knew she’d be upset. She was and always had been an independent woman.    Bellatrix had made an exclamation late one night, yelling for Rodolphus to ‘come feel this’ and he’d found her with her robes pulled up exposing the growing bump at her midsection. Rodolphus couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face at the scene. His dark and uncaring wife showing a bit of elation at the movement of their child. It was then that he knew, Bella could lie all she wanted, but she wanted that child. At least a part of her did.    But fate didn’t work that way. Bellatrix didn’t notice as the child slowly stopped moving within her belly, to busy focusing on purification of the wizarding race. She didn’t notice when the movement stopped all together. She didn’t notice until she woke in a pool of her own blood and cried out. She didn’t think about it until the Mediwitch Rodolphus had called for had asked her. ‘I’m sorry, Mister, Madame Lestrange I can’t save it.’    Rodolphus had sent for Narcissa, unsure how to help his wife in this time. I didn’t want it anyway. He’s heard through the door to his and Bella’s room.    She was a little more lost after that night. A little more impulsive. She stayed out all hours of the night, reveling in the pain and agony she put on others. When she was home she insisted on dueling, dueling until they were both drenched in their own sweat and more often than not Rodolphus’s whole body felt as if he’d been run over my a muggle bus. He knew he’d lost her that night, knew there was no more hope left in his wife. He knew he’d lost her that night.   I didn’t want it anyway. Just a hindrance, that’s what children are. Bloody annoying with their crying and whining. But Rodolphus knew the truth. He’d seen the light in her eyes when she felt the baby move for the first time.     CREDIT: JAMES KRIET   Roses Painted Redpart 1 BELLATRIX BLACK || Evan RosierBlack Hearted || -Rosier;   Her Master’s voice carried over the hushed gathering of people, death eaters who for the most part stared at the long table that stretched between them, except Bellatrix. Bellatrix’s eyes were glued to the Dark Lord, drinking in his every word as she hung off of it. His word was gospel to the witch. Even after spending fifteen years of her life in Azkaban for following the man, she’d revere him as the god he was. They were released, dismissed and just as Bellatrix stood to either disappear from the house or to follow her Lord (she wasn’t quite sure yet) her eyes fell on her little cousin - Evan. He looked worse for wear, not as bad as she did. Fifteen years hiding in the United States, making a life for oneself would do that when the alternative was a life sentence with soul sucking dementors at Azkaban. “Where’s that little sister of yours?” She questioned, stalking towards her prey once those that didn’t belong had disappeared now they were dismissed. Her wand was in her hand before Evan could speak a word, the tip of the curved piece of wood digging into the skin of his neck. “Did she finally run away? Blood traitor. Or is she dead?” Years ago, she’d have backed off of the Rosier cousin with just a look from her sister. She’d clung to her relationship with Narcissa after Andromeda had run off with Ted, but fifteen years later she no longer cared enough to even check if Cissy was watching. The calmness written over Evan’s face didn’t fool the elder witch. She could see his pulse pick up as it beat against the tip of her wand, see the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know.’ Dark eyes met topaz as she leaned her head to the side, delving into his mind without warning. “Where's that little sister of yours?" What she saw caused a cackle, dropping her wand hand and turning to walk away. “Oh she is a blood traitor!” She turned continuously, wand tapping against her cheek. “Oh Evan, dearest little cousin…” ‘She’s not a…’ But she held a hand up, stopping her spinning, when he interrupted her. “Shhh.. sh… You should have pruned that bad branch along time ago. Should’ve let Daddy kill her for sneaking off with that blood traitor. She deserved what she got.” She spat, dodging a hex thrown her way with a childish gasp. “You think you can win, Rosier?” She giggled, deflecting a curse. “He trained me himself! Crucio!” Her giggle grew to a cackle as Evan’s wand fell from his grasp and he fell to his knees. “You always were weak.” She mocked as her eyes danced with an insane glee. “Don’t worry about pretty little Rosier.” She spoke, dropping the curse as Narcissa burst through the door to see what the ruckus was, “I’m just leaving. I have business to attend to in France.” And with that she was gone  in a puff of black smoke. -TBC-   CREDIT: JAMES KRIET   The path to insanity BELLATRIX BLACK || Black Hearted Interest - the state of wanting to know or learn about something or someone. It started out innocent - well as innocent as Bellatrix Black could be considered. An interest in a mysterious man. A great wizard who she often overheard Father and Lestrange Sr. talk about. She’d spent countless hours sitting outside Father’s office, eavesdropping until she’d eventually be shooed away by Mother or Father. That conversation was not appropriate for a proper pureblood girl. Not that she’d ever been proper by any means of the definition. She’d been fifteen when she’d met him. She’d been in the middle of a fight with her mother, Druella again having found her outside of Father’s office had grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the door. “But I want to learn the Dark Arts.” She had raised her voice, stamping her foot in a teenaged fit. “Pureblood girls have no place learning the Dark Arts.” Druella’s voice was calm and collected and that only served to ignite the ever present anger in her daughter further. Bellatrix had been about to say something, to angrily retort, when a man and her father made their way into the room as well. She froze, dark eyes wide, mouth frozen where her words were supposed to begin. Her mother stared at her for a moment before turning to find the Dark Lord and Cygnus, two silent observers. “My Lord.” Came Bella’s whispered voice, bowing her head because even at fifteen years old she knew this man was to be respected. That was the night interest turned to devotion. Devotion - love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause. Devotion to a man she’d only ever seen once, but whom she’d listened to on several occasions. His thoughts and goals, weren’t they what her parents drilled into her head anyway? Blood purity and power? She’d use her title of Prefect and in her seventh year - Head Girl - to sneak into the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. She’d read every book about the dark arts that she could get her hands on. And when on holiday, she’d steal books from Father’s library. Her father had stopped trying to quell her interest, giving up in the face of his daughter’s persistence. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t question him. Her mother had thought that forcing Bellatrix to focus on her impending wedding would lure her away from these dark fancies. It hadn’t worked, if anything pushing her further from her mother’s wants. At seventeen, no longer traced and watched as heavily by the Ministry, she began to practice those Unforgivable Curses she’d only read about. The power they gave her thrilled her, turning them on her betrothed brought a glint to her eye never before seen in the young witch’s eye. It had been Rodolphus, three years her senior, who’d introduce her formally to the Dark Lord. It would be Rodolphus who later regretted that decision as devotion to an unknown man turned to obsession to a man and cause she’d die for. Interest. Devotion. Obsession. Madness. Insanity. Obsession - an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind. Her obsession had grown from a childish interest in a handful of years and was only solidified when he took her under his wing to properly train her. She had potential and it was recognized. Recognized by the only one that truly mattered to the young witch. Obsession ensured she received her dark mark before she became a Lestrange. It wasn’t something she’d let Rodolphus potentially take away from her, she wouldn’t let anyone stand in her way. Obsession only festered at the loss of her sister, Andromeda who’d run off with a mud blood, Andromeda whom she’d been so close to. It grew as hours were spent hanging off his every word, at home when she wasn’t in his presence, and steadfastly when she was. Obsession boiled when she’d lost the one thing she refused to admit she might have wanted other than the Dark Lord’s attention. Blistered in the days and weeks afterward in an attempt to throw a worried husband off. And putrified when it happened again. It would turn to madness  in the absence of her obsession. Madness - a state of frenzied or chaotic activity | the state of being mentally ill, especially severely. Obsession had turned to madness that night he’d gone after the Potter boy. The night she felt his very aura ripped away from the world. She’d screamed as if it were here own body that had been banished from this world. Madness had sent her on a mission to find him. It was impossible that he was gone. There wasn’t a way and someone had to know where he was. She’d free him. She had to. But when leads led no where, when torture didn’t yield her answers, she found herself before the Ministry. “Lock me away! He’ll come for me!” She’d shouted defiantly. “He’ll free me, his most loyal! And when he does you will all be sorry.” She’d spend the next fifteen years of her life in a state of constant madness as memories were ripped from her soul. Childhood memories forgotten. Love for her sister(s) forgotten. Pain forgotten. Happiness forgotten. The only memories she clung to were those of her master, of the Dark Lord. When she was freed, as she knew she would be, fifteen years later madness had turned the page to insanity.Insanity - the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.   CREDIT: JAMES KRIET    

The Location: Bed-Stuy, New York; apartment of Clint Barton   Clint rubs his fingertips across his temples as he falls backward into a chair, then lowers his hands back to his lap, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His head was throbbing. The past twenty four hours had been a hell of an ordeal and his body was feeling the bumps and bruises of it. He hurt in places he had forgotten existed on his body...especially his head. A thrown bottle upside the head that connects has that affect on a person. At least he had made a friend. A loyal one it appeared from what had happened earlier in the evening. Arrow. That was his name and he had saved Clint's ass in a way that most human's wouldn't have. For that reason, he had a home at Clint's place as long as he needed or wanted it.   He couldn't help but think how funny life can be sometimes. Things that he thought were dead and gone seemed to be popping up all over this new world. Old friends, old habits, people checking in on him, and people causing static. What was he to do? Show his mettle and pull a Pinky and the Brain routine? Get a sidekick again? Pull a yearlong drunk? Hell, maybe even adopt a dog? So many choices were before him, especially while he waited to be rescued and took back to his home world. The question was..did he want that now? The longer he stayed here, the more he called it home. Sure, he knew he was gone for weeks on end at times but it didn't mean he didn't think of those at home almost every day. He missed them. He missed them in a way that most could never comprehend. It was what it was though and his work kept him away for longer periods of time that he would like. He had to keep going though. Partly for his own sanity but mostly for those that depended on him. Yet, he had found recently that what made him feel like himself was the one thing he was missing in his life. The adventure, the purple suit, his friends and those he looked at at times as closer than his own family. His home away from home.   Clint spoke silently as his mind drifted off to a special place, a hilltop that visited quite often at one time in his life. He thought of something a close friend and confidant once told him.   'How do you live if your ruled by your past but how do you let go of a past that helped mold you?'     It was a question he asked himself over and over for the past few years. There wasn't a definite answer in his mind until the past few days. It was like someone finally pulled his cord and the light bulb came on over his head. He finally understood. Most of all, he 'got it'.   He didn't have to change who his was despite what others thought. He didn't have to be with the in crowd. He didn't have to fall in love to be loved by those that really mattered to him. He didn't have to go out of his way to make someone smile or say hi. Quite honestly, he finally came to the conclusion that he didn't have to give a shit about anyone that didn't deserve his time. Which was hard to come by to begin with.   Slowly, he sit up and made his way to his feet, making his way over to a panel on the wall in his rooftop apartment. For a very long time, he hadn't put on the suit, opting instead to be Clint Barton instead of Hawkeye. With a smile erupting on his face, he pushed a small hidden switch on the wall and watched as a sliding wall panel slid open. Inside hung the purple costume the world knew as Hawkeye, along with all of his bows and specialized arrows. He reached for his bow and took it into the palm of his right hand, gripping it as if his life was renewed.   Once again, he spoke in light voice as Arrow looked over at him and barked happily.   "Oh come on...you think I'd have an Arrow flying around this place if I didn't have my bow again?"

Aphrodite had taken Melia from Creed's ship while they slept. She now had Melia chained in a secret location to avoid her escaping, or Creed coming to take her away again.