ABOUT CLEMENTINE

I’m aware that most people avoid clicking on links for OC’s in profiles for fear of tl;dr, so I’m just going to attempt to summarize Clementine in bullet points.


Name: Clementine Marie Valentino

Alias: La Gatita

Nickname: Kitty

Born: May 14, 1991

Age: 19

Sex: F

Country of Origin: Spain

City: Madrid

Family: Mother, dentist, father, bred dalmations, two younger siblings, brothers

Powers: Turn into any member of the Class—Mammalia, the Order—Carnivora and the Family—Felidae. And then some.
“The cat family includes the small cats (genus Felis), the clouded leopard (genus Neofelis), the cheetah (genus Acinonyx), and the big cats (genus Panthera).”

Personality: Lesiban, loves to cook, does not see the world as “Good guys” and “Bad guys”, sees the world as “Nice to me = friend, I like” and “Mean to me = not friend, dislike”.

Does not choose “sides”.

Wants to be a chef.

Makes pies out of hookers.

Cannibalistic, does not view it as cannibalism.

Does not view herself as human.

Thinks that because it’s okay for humans to hunt big cats for fun, it’s okay for her to hunt humans for fun.

HUGE Animal Rights Activist.

Cries watching SPCA commercials.

Loves everybody.

Does not seem crazy when you first meet her.

Is usually nice.

Best friends with @Tyrian.

Hates zombies with a fiery fucking passion which burns like a thousand white hot suns.

80’s music enthusiast.

Origin: Wanted to be a veterinarian when growing up. Met Ty at the age of 16 through an exchange program and learned English from her. Had an internship at a research center for feline leukemia. Was exposed to a contamination of a proposed biological agent designed as a possible cure which had leaked and tripped while carrying vials of blood samples, whereupon she smashed the vial, cut herself, and was exposed to the agent and blood and thus contaminated and biologically altered.

HOME LIFE: Lives in a Loft on the South end of the Narrows with Tyrian. The Loft is guarded by a demonic, living, man-eating chainlink named Greg, given to Kitty as a gift by the Antichrist for security in exchange for ownership of her soul, which she did not see as a very big deal at the time, having been sixteen when making this decision. Greg is mainly for the event of the zombie apocalypse, but he keeps out creepers also. The fence will not attack friends who have passed through the gate while accompanying Kitty or Tyrian in the past. Every single light in the Loft has been replaced with those blue night light light bulbs, due to the fact that Tyrian’s shadow powers make her skin extremely sensitive to all types of lighting, natural or artificial. Recently, it was revealed that the cause of Tyrian’s shadow powers was the fusion of her body with that of a demon named Morgan. Morgan frequently steals control from Tyrian and will go out and murder/terrorize people, which has left Tyrian thoroughly traumatized. She has what she calls the ‘Light Box’ which Kitty ironically refers to as the ‘Fun Box’, which is essentially a Rubbermaid tote with a hole cut into it, with a halogen light bulb wired through which Tyrian hides in with her favorite childhood bear, convinced that the box is the only safe place left in the world, and that everything outside is out to get her. Kitty does not like the Box.

YOU CAN STOP READING HERE IF YOU WANT TO. I’m going to post some personality profiles just for shits and giggles. You can read more if you wish. The following is all related to Kitty, and based off of various online personality profile tests I took for her.

FIRST: birthday calculator

14 May 1991

Your date of conception was on or about 21 August 1990 which was a Tuesday.

You were born on a Tuesday
under the astrological sign Taurus.
Your Life path number is 3.

Your fortune cookie reads:
A quiet evening with friends is the best tonic for a long day.

Life Path Compatibility:
You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 3, 6 & 9.
You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 1, 2, 5 & 11.
You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 4, 7, 8 & 22.

The Julian calendar date of your birth is 2448390.5.
The golden number for 1991 is 16.
The epact number for 1991 is 14.
The year 1991 was not a leap year.

Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/15/1991 and ending 2/3/1992.
You were born in the Chinese year of the Goat.

You were born in the Egyptian month of Epipy, the third month of the season of Shomu (Harvest).

Your lucky day is Friday.
Your lucky number is 6.
Your ruling planet(s) is Venus.
Your lucky dates are 6th, 15th, 24th.
Your opposition sign is Scorpio.
Your opposition number(s) is 9 & 11.

Your birth flower is LILY

Your birthstone is Emerald

The Mystical properties of Emerald

Though not meant to replace traditional medical treatment, Emerald is used for physical and emotional healing.

Your birth tree is

Poplar, the Uncertainty

Looks very decorative, only courageous if necessary, needs goodwill and pleasant surroundings, very choosy, often lonely, great animosity, artistic nature, good organiser, tends to philosophy, reliable in any situation, takes partnership serious.

.... I fucking can't stand anything anymore.

Just found these:






shitting about in Tyrian's bedroom.

I feel... like shit... right now. I'm such a horrible friend, how could I not have noticed any of this...?

Wow

Haven't blogged this thing in almost a year. Shit, time flies.

Ty came back after she left for a long time. Her powers are fucking up. I'm worried. D:

halp?

so, if you've been reading, I'm trying to write a novel.

I don't have a plot. the Assassin's story started as a distraction from science class. I changed it to fit the base idea of dead people's memory being used in robots to soften emotional blows from their new owners, and one malfunctioning so the memories become base programming.

what I was going to do originally was have the son of the CEO of the Machinists Corp discover this horrible secret, then have his memory copied into a robot for his own protection, but that doesn't make sense.

Now I'm thinking that the CEO's son is simply more popular to the shareholders of Machinist Corp, and his father, the greedy bugger, has him assassinated so he can stay in power. makes SLIGHTLY MORE SENSE, and is probably easier to do.

let's say his friend is a memory robber, so that's how he winds up in a robot.

and then

I was going to have a teenage girl buy him, and he would get a bump on the head or some such thing and revert to base memory. or something. not so sure.

Story part one (prologue/rough)

The Assassin rubbed his neck tiredly. he had been waiting at the top floor of the abandoned Waynesboro apartment tower for three days straight, and had spent the past three hours cleaning his sights. His target was due to arrive on the area below him sometime in the next five hours. In those five hours, he would be certain that his gun would not jam, his exits would be clear, and his street clothes ready to be donned.

everything was set. Soon enough, he thought, My hit will walk out of the building across the street, and when my aim is certain-

BANG!

his thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the door slamming open, and a loud click of the lock, or was that a gun? He calmly and slowly turned to view his unwelcome visitor.

what he saw was nothing. Nothing but thin air.

he took a breath and went to investigate the door and surrounding area. 'the building is old' he thought, ' and there's always the chance of something getting blown by the wind'

it was a true enough statement. There were holes in the walls, and, infact, the building was due to be demolished next month.

he had done his research.

Still, though, he could have sworn he had closed that door.

He briefly considered taking an hour to search the building, but if anyone had slammed the door open, they would have likely called the police already.

he Hmm'd, not liking the situation at all.

he Considered calling the Handler and telling her the situation may become unworkable, and he would preform the hit from another location. still, he was told the client was insistent, "he must die today" she had told him.

he mumbled something along the lines of "Domestic squabbles..." and sighed.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his job, there WERE perks, but the reasons behind some of these hits. Take this one, for example. the CEO of some company's son. he didn't really care why, but to him it seemed a power struggle. the Son was more popular than his father in the news, and the shareholders seemed to want to elect him to the top position. This apparently didn't please the man, and so He was hired.

it saddened him, sometimes.

but then he recalled the excess of zeros in his pay check, and the misery slipped from his mind, like water from a duck's back.

he sighed out an "Oh well", then closed and locked the door behind him.

his mind sped ahead several steps, and began packing his equipment into a slightly-larger-than-average briefcase. he determined he would call the handler, inform her of the situation, and move to the hotel

He packed the last of his ammunition into the rather average,if large, briefcase. he looked over to the earpiece attached to the cell-phone. he picked it up and roughly jabbed it into his ear.

the handler chimed "Shirley's House of Ham, how may I help you?"
"Hello, I'm afraid I have to change my reservation for this evening, there may be someone else joining us..."
"Oh, that's fine, honey. how many now?"
"Three"
"Alright, I'll move your table. same time, I hope?"
"Should be, although, my friend says his son is late for things quite regularly."
"Don't worry about it, doll. We'll have a table ready and waiting for you. have a nice day."

he clicked the headset off. the entire coded conversation was designed to sound as inconspicuous as possible. if any headsets were found, the most they could do is make a call to a restaurant that sold ham hawks. Shirley's house of ham was a real working restaurant, not that it mattered to him. he began taking the briefcase to the bottom of the building. he was already planning where he would hit from. he would ask for the highest floor he could get, presidential suite, via client's wallet. three days of waiting would not go to waste.


he smiled.

my writing prompt.

for english, we had to write writing prompts for the state testing. here's my rough draft:

Alfred was an Odd Rabbit. he was a rare black rabbit in a sea of brown. this made him different and unique to his parents, who quickly got over the fact that their son was not brown. He didn't have many friends because the other bunnies at his school had been taught that colour variations would result in being eaten.

this upset alfred, so one day, he went to the great, huge mud pit after a rain, and dove in, covering himself with brown, and laid himself in the sun to dry.

Alfred baked, and baked, and baked, until finally the mud was all dry. it was when he tried to move that he had seen error in his plan: he had so heavily coated himself with mud that he couldn't move! the sun had dried him into the shape he had laid down in, and he was stuck. he cried, and eventually, another rabbit showed up, wondering who was crying. seeing nothing but alfred, covered in mud. The other rabbit assumed he was a lawn ornament and left.

Alfred's attempt to fit in resulted in his death, and many teenagers face simmilar fates. At my school, many people feel like alfred, the black rabbit in a sea of brown. However,many more are happy to be the brown rabbit.

it's when the black rabbit tries to be brown that issues arise. You see, many of the brown bunnies do dangerous things, not to say that the black rabbits don't too. Kids do stupid things, but when someone does it to fit in, then a dangerous situation is beginning. Who knows where that person will go from there? if that person is mindless enough, will they jump off the cliff because everyone else is doing it? there are simply times when better judgement should come into play, and too many people forget that.

The way everything is commercialized these days, you can be anything, any day of the week, all you have to do is buy it. there is an issue here too, because the kids who just want to look cool and are doing things for fashion are causing themselves unnecessary pain. THey might be made fun of, they might get people to hang out with, although I don't believe anyone you meet on basis of fashion can be truly considered a friend, they might sit alone at the lunch table or worse. but this can all be remedied with a simple change of clothes, from black and white to technicolor. Everything changes, you become invisible to the hunters, and nobody cares anymore.

Alfred's issue with difference was because he can't change the colour of his fur, but what about the people who are physically disfigured? They may have brain damage, be in wheel chairs, Deaf, Dumb, or Blind. I'm certain many of these people long to be able bodied, so they might live what we call normal lives.

I feel the prompt's question was unfair, "is ir more important to fit in, or to be unique". in trying to be unique, people join a large group of nonconformists. all of these people conforming to be different, singular in the small scale ( 1 in 100, perhaps), but greater in the big picture (1.2 percent of americans claim to belong to a new age religion). if I had population statistics, I could tell you that 1.2 is a large number of people, but I don't. I think that we all need to accept that we are all human, and treat eachother that way.