Aroz
Junior Member
[M:2000]
Posts: 66
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Post by Aroz on Jan 8, 2008 18:58:36 GMT -5
I am a mainly Neopets role player- because I am totally cool like that. Anyways, I don't role play there too often anymore; various reasons that I do not want to explain...*coughlamenesscough*. But, while I was there, I did a lot of introduction writing. I usually spent more time on introductions than I did on the actual role playing- sad, but true.
Anyways, I mainly role played Naruto, with a little bit of Pokemon and Gifted Boarding School on the side. Most of the intros will be from Naruto, though. Sadly, the best of the best have long since been deleted, but I might still be able to find a few lurking around in the darkest crevices of my computer. xD
So stay tuned for Aroz's Intros~
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Aroz
Junior Member
[M:2000]
Posts: 66
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Post by Aroz on Jan 8, 2008 19:07:35 GMT -5
Ahh. This was one of my favorites for sure. It was Alternate Universe Naruto, where, instead of ninja powers, the characters discovered they had special abilities. Sound familiar? Well, the idea came from Heroes. So it was like, Naruto Heroes. I had a whole, like, database filled with the characters and their abilities. It was pretty nice. Sadly, the role play never got big- and after an attempt at making a guild for it, I sort of gave up.
Anyways, Tsunade is my character of choice here, although I had made introductions for at least four more characters. Enjoy.
"Mmm, mmm, Tsunade, you are looking good."
That is what could be heard from hotel room 137's bathroom, as well as other similar statements, where a familiar blonde woman would be examining her 'new body'. No, she didn't some how steal it from someone, that was impossible. Hell, if she could do that, she would never age, she'd just keep stealing younger girl's bodies. What a great thing that would be, although the very idea made her laugh. She did make it a point to not take her eyes off the mirror for a second, even while she was laughing. Oh yes, she was looking fine. Her bosoms were perfect, the surgeon had really outdone himself this time. And her face, and her arms, and her legs, all of them, flawless! No one would ever tell she was already in her mid-forties. Seriously, whoever said that aging was hard had obviously never been able to afford plastic surgery.
Smiling to her reflection, yet again, the oldie decided it was time to go get some cash, some nice, quick cash. The blonde quickly dressed in a grey tanktop, though it was really amazing how that thing covered her so well, as well as a pair of blue sweatpants, and a green robe. Looking into the mirror, again, she decided that her outfit looked like crap. Sure, she could admit it. But, where she was going, its not like anyone would care /what/ she wore. As long as they got what they wanted, no one would give a rat's ass about what she was wearing, probably not even about her. And you better believe it, they would be getting what they wanted, and a lot of it. Tsunade quickly tied her hair into two ponytails, and then exited her hotel room, making her way to her 'quick-cash-haven'.
"Come on, Mama needs a new tattoo!" the woman shouted, attracting the attention from those at other machines. Yes, Tsunade was at a casino, the Hidden Village Casino to be exact, now testing her luck at the slot machines. Sadly, she had already tried at Black Jack and the Roulette, losing miserably at both. The only thing left was the slots.
Yes. This is what was meant when I said they would be getting what they wanted. The casino had gotten loads, and for certain would be getting more, money from this unlucky gambler. The addict didn't cease though, and she took another coin from the small plastic cup and slid it into the machine.
The icons spun and spun and spun, the lights blinking bright neon colors, and the machine made wacky and crazy sounds. But all of these things left Tsunade unfazed, her eyes were fixated upon the spinning pictures, just waiting for them to stop.
"Cherries. Cherries...Lemon. Damn." she groaned, almost crying at the amount of money she could've won just then. Shaking it off as a one time fluke, she inserted another coin into the slot machine, the result turning out almost the same. The woman cursed again, louder this time. What had happened to all her luck? This is how she had won all that money for surgery, why the hell couldn't she win now? She really wanted to get that tattoo, the japanese kanji for gambling, right on her left bosom. All the stars were getting kanji tattoos now-a-days, and one who was constantly growing older needed to keep up with those younger kids. Apparently, though, she wasn't going to be getting the tattoo any time soon.
Again, and again, the process went on. Insert. Watch. Lose. Insert. Watch. Lose. Now, she was getting ticked off. Tsunade was down to her last quarter now, this better win her something good. Kissing it with pink, glossed lips, the blonde placed it into the slot, listening as it clinked and chinged inside. A sweaty palm curled around the large red ball at the top of the lever, and she pulled. It spun, and spun, it always seemed to spin longer when you were on your last coin. Her eyes watched again, just as they had many times before, trying to mentally stop the icons so that they all would match.
Cherry.
She waited, her hopes high.
Cherry.
A smiled formed. Her hands clenched into fists of anticipation, her palms sweating. Had anyone been around her at the time, and not in their hotel rooms with the cheap hookers they picked up at the corner, or drinking their losses away, they would seen the look of childish excitement in her eyes.
The last icon seemed to take forever to come to a complete stop. It passed the small bag of money. It passed a large, red X. And then it really started to slow. The icon was...cherry! The now ample-chested woman jumped from her seat, kicking it away in joy. She had won! She won big! A grin was going from ear to ear, hands clapping together. Again, it would've been quite the spectacle had anyone been around.
But not as amazing as what they would've seen next. Almost as if the higher powers above had set their sights on making the blonde miserable, the icon shifted, landing on...lemon. All of it happened all at once, the old woman still has a hard time remembering what happened exactly. A look of anger replaced the once smiling face, she and she cursed loudly: "What the hell?!", and, without thinking, sent a fist flying towards the machine. Yet, events didn't play out like they usually did, oh no.
Instead of breaking her hand, comically screaming in pain, instead, it was the machine that broke. The fist of the old woman had penetrated the hard, metal exterior, shattering it into a million little pieces. Eyes gaped open, and coins flew everywhere, landing all over the ground. The woman was in such shock, she didn't hear the siren going off. 'What the hell had just happened?' That was the only thought running through her mind right now.
She quickly snapped back, however, and began to pick up as many of the coins as she could, not wanting to miss this perfect opportunity. In a matter of moments though, her ears picked up the voices of some of the employees, most of them heading her way: "Someone broke into machine 13!", "Hurry, call security!", "Should we tell Mr. Yondai what happened?". Yes, they were coming for her, and she knew it was time to jet. Leaving the rest of the quarters for the workers to clean up, the old woman ran through the spinning doors, and began her journey back to her hotel room.
When she had arrived, she was breathing heavily, and covered with sweat. Her hand stung. Why? She hadn't felt this before. Looking down at her right hand, she saw tiny shards of metal protruding from the skin between her knuckles, blood stained her fist. Had she been in such shock that she didn't notice, that must've been it. Using her left hand, Tsunade began to remove the metal from her other hand, as she thought about where she had put her band-aids. "Damn, I cant even go ask for any, or they might ask what happened." she muttered, as she looked back at her hand. But what she saw, it caused her to scream. The wounds, the tiny cuts where the metal had cut her, were healing. Right before her very eyes, the cuts were healing themselves, and soon, only the blood that had stained her hand remained.
Now, she was definitely in shock. Without realizing it, she began to pull the coins from her pockets, letting them fall to the floor, making soft clings and pats as they hit the carpeted floor as well as each other. But Tsunade ignored the noise, as of now her mind was somewhere else entirely. What had happened? How had she broken open that machine with one punch? Every other time she broke her knuckles, why not this time? And how, how did the cuts heal so fast? Her mind was racing with questions, and she thought it was about to explode with them, until her thoughts were interrupted by a loud and annoying ring tone.
Scrambling to find her cell, the blonde took to her knees, and found the cellular device glowing underneath of her bed. "H-hello?"
"Miss Hokage?" asked a familiar voice, "Miss Hokage, are you alright? You sound terrified.".
"No, no, its nothing, Shizune.", she answered, her tone steadily going back to normal, "And what did I tell you about calling me Miss Hokage when we weren't at work?".
The assistant apologized. "Miss Tsunade, you really need to come back to the company. I don't feel safe with you off in Vegas. You remember what happened last time?". Indeed she did. The apparent boss of 'the company' had spent nearly all of its funds at the casino. But, she had also won them all back, in triple, which the blonde decided to remind the worry-wart at the other end of the phone. "Yes, yes. I remember. But, well, you don't want me to worry again, do you?", she laughed, but then her tone turned very serious. "Also, the news has been reporting that the serial killer, Orochimaru, has been traced to Vegas. I just don't want you to get hurt, Miss Tsunade.". Tsunade convinced the attendant to not worry so much, and that she would call her back, first thing in the morning. Saying their goodbyes, the women hung up, Oldie allowing her phone to drop onto the bed.
"Orochimaru, huh?" she muttered, clicking the POWER button on the remote. And, ironically, a newscast about that man had come on. Turning the volume up higher, the woman made her way to the bathroom to rinse off her hand.
"There has been a confirmed encounter with Orochimaru, given to the police force by a young, Anko Mitarashi. It was reported to have been just outside of the Hidden Village Casino." The report went on, but the woman had pretty much ignored it entirely, not even noticing the bit about the casino. After finishing the cleansing of her hands, the blonde crawled onto the bed, and rested her head upon a pillow. For now, Tsunade would try to forget about that little mishap at the casino, and instead would watch the news. Maybe it would even put her to sleep, as it often did.
An hour or so later:
"Miss Tsunade, please, this is urgent and..."
"Would you stop calling me?" the slightly tipsy woman shouted into the phone, before clicking it off and throwing it to the ground. That guy, Jiraiya would not leave her alone. And why did he keep wanting to talk about her genes? This was supposed to be a vacation, not a doctors visit. Besides that, she was still in shock from her earlier display. Just how did she break through that slot machine, and why did her cuts heal so fast?
Taking another drink, the blonde rose from the bed. How disappointing it was that the news hadn't put her to sleep as she had intended it to. The top-heavy woman had been looking forward to sleep, since it would help her forget, and not even alcohol was helping. Maybe a walk to clear her mind would help. The blonde placed her glass onto the night stand, and exited the room, though not without picking up a few of the quarters she had taken, on the way. "The night life of Vegas will do me some good.", she mumbled, as she started her walk, blending in with the rest of the crowd. Well, she blended as well as someone with a chest her size could blend.
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Aroz
Junior Member
[M:2000]
Posts: 66
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Post by Aroz on Jan 10, 2008 15:01:09 GMT -5
Another Naruto introduction I made, and liked.
It was my first attempt at a onexone yaoi role play.
The character is Sai, and the role play is AU.
What is art? To some, it is merely colors and shapes merged together in random patterns to form something that tricks you into thinking it is beauty; they believe a three year old could do it. To those who truly love art, however, it is an escape from reality. Something that aids them into creating a path from their souls, their deepest feelings and most troublesome thoughts, to the minds and hearts of the world; something that is meant to touch the world. And that is what Sai’s definition had once been, as well. But now, as he stood in front of the blank canvas, his body seemingly frozen in time, he couldn’t help but wonder where that passion had disappeared to. The brush held in his pale hand was cold to his touch, how long had it been since he had held it? The paint covering its bristles was slowly drying into a hardened paste, not yet a single stroke had been made. And yet, the man did not move. He could not move. How was one who had once painted by his emotions paint ever again, now that those feelings were gone? It had been like this for about a year now; stuck in this apathetic state. If the world was destroyed at that very second, he would not care. If he himself was struck down in this very hour of the day, he would feel the same as he did now. Nothing at all seemed to matter, and it seemed doubtful that it ever would again. To shed ones emotions completely is, of course, impossible. Somewhere deep down, deep, deep down, they will still linger in even the smallest reaches of your being. Sai, of course, knew this. But for so long he had hid them, even from himself, that it seemed he had actually accomplished this seemingly impossible task. If only you knew what he had been through, though, then maybe you too could think that it was an accomplishable feat that he and he alone, had managed. It had all started with a single phone call. Someone had died, as the hospital informed him, but before he had passed he had requested that his only “brother” come to see him. Sai had missed this initial message; the art studio which he had secluded himself in for that day had had no phone, and he had been in there for most of the day. When he checked his answering machine after returning to his apartment, he had gotten two new messages; one telling him to hurry to the hospital, and the other informing him that his “brother” had died. Pain. Sorrow. Anger. Loneliness. All of these feelings charged through his body like heroine through one’s veins. Those emotions, those painful emotions, would fuel him to paint, acting as a drug allowing him into a new kind of high. And even though it was late as it was, the bells long since having declared it midnight, and the weather outside was vile and chilling, Sai physically felt nothing. He just ran. Ran all the way to his studio- the place he would now call home. That day. That hour. That minute. That second. Right then, Sai cared about nothing; he wanted nothing to do with anyone or anything. Nothing was more important now than making sure these feelings, the hurt he felt, were made known to everyone who would see his art. Pulling out all his paints and brushes, Sai readied his position in front of the blank paper. Without even thinking he began to paint. This was his way of expression; this was all his. He didn’t want to think right now, the canvas was all he needed. And at that moment, it was the only friend he’d ever need again. The day after the rush had overtaken young Sai was warm. The sun was shining bright, illuminating even the darkest corners of the studio. The young man who had abandoned sleep all night was now curled up in a ball on the still-cold floor of the room. All through the night he had painted until everything he felt had fled onto the once blank canvas. A sudden knock had awoken the dark-haired artist, his eyes slowly opening, the sun stinging them with its bright rays. “Hello, Mr. Mozaman, I am here to collect your rent. You know, I have been allowing you to skip it for the passed few months-since I know you have a hard time paying for both your home and this studio- but I am afraid I can allow it no longer,” the frail man said, looking at the tired adult with eyes that seemed to hold just a smidgen of guilt. “Do you have the money, Sai?” “Um. Yes, of course Mr. Danzou,” he hesitated, gesturing for the landlord to come inside, “If you could just have a seat right there, I am sure I can scrounge up the money somehow.” A finger pointed to a seat, and was quickly withdrawn as the in-debt teen hastily moved to another section of the building. Mr. Danzou complied, his eyes gazing upon the large collection of art as he made his way to the designated seat. They really were all quite nice. However, there was one that grasped his attention and forced it to look onwards; and it was the one that painted upon the canvas right in front on him. “S-S-Sai, this is…,” the elderly man stuttered, unable to get his words to come out correctly, only able to fix the problem with a series of forced coughs, “Sai, this…masterpiece…when did you make it? It’s…it’s beautiful.” And, in just a matter of hours, Sai would become a superstar. Mr. Danzou, who was friends to many patrons of the arts, introduced his renter to the masses: Sai had his own gala featuring all of his paintings. People were amazed at what they saw. They were willing to pay massive amounts of money for Sai’s paintings, for him to paint something for them. His name was everywhere; and everyone wanted a piece of him. But sadly, all good things must come to an end- whether we’re readied for them to stop or not. To those who didn’t know Sai, they’d say he was living the life. His girlfriend, Ino Yamanaka, was a world famous supermodel, his wealth seemed immeasurable, his life seemed perfect. But little did these people know that the wonderful life Sai supposedly lived was all a sham. Sure, for the first few months, life was great. Hell, he was a celebrity. But that pressure, that lung crushing pressure, it consumed him. Every night, he would cry out in pain and everyday he would have to hide that very same feeling from the world, or risk being thrown from the public eye. He could not stand it. So Sai turned to drugs. Ino was not amused. She left him. The police were not amused. He was arrested, tried, but luckily, released. He entered rehab. He stopped the drugs, but this made the pain come back. To him, it was nothing but an endless cycle. At one time in his life, he would’ve used these emotions to fuel his artwork, but he no longer could. It all hurt too much. He could no longer suppress the feelings until he reached the canvas, he felt as if his heart would explode. The happy emotions he had once felt had fled him, hoping to rid themselves from the pain, the hate, the anger, the sorrow. That was all Sai was now, a void of negative feelings. And he was tired of it. So one day, he stopped. He stopped painting. He stopped caring. He stopped feeling. What is art? To some, it is an escape from reality. Something that aids them into creating a path from their souls- their deepest feelings and most troublesome thoughts- to the minds and hearts of the world; something that is meant to touch the world. But to Sai, art was nothing more than another thing that could hurt him, just like everything else. So now, as he stood in front of the blank canvas, his body seemingly frozen in time, he couldn’t help but wonder why he stood there, trying to paint again when he promised himself he wouldn’t. It must’ve been those feelings that lingered. But there would be no more of that. Dropping the paintbrush, that was cold to his touch with the paint, which had long since hardened into a thick paste, still on the bristles, Sai left the art studio. No longer would art be by his side; today, the snow covered streets of the city, and the icy winds that inhabited them, would be his companions. So even though he was dressed entirely in black, not even the warmest rays of the sun would warm him. And as far as Sai was concerned, nothing ever again would be able to either. [/b]
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