Recent Statuses

2 days ago
Current When you're writing a heartbreaking scene and you realise you are hurting over your imaginary friends in a fight.
3 days ago
A Crow Short of A Murder.
1 like
4 days ago
Toss a coin to your Witcher, oh valley of plentyyyy!
9 days ago
"You can make a poingent statement without cursing right in the fucking middle of it!" No context.
25 days ago
The past tense of William Shakespeare is Wouldiwas Shookspeared.


― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless


Thank you for Noticing This Notice.

Your Noting it has been Noted.

And it has been Reported to the proper Authority.

Hello lurker/ My old friend/ I've come to talk to you again/ Because a shadow softly creeping/ Lurking in the chat while I was sleeping/ And the roleplay that was forming in my brain/ Still remains with the sound of lurking.

In dead roleplays I walked alone/ Narrow pathways of casual zone...

Need mor ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

(Made in collaboration with @hatakekuro)

It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them to be in. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe can be said to be zero. From this it follows that the population of the whole Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.

--Douglass Adams

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.

And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.

Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.

And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.

The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.

Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

~~As You Like It, Shakespear

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

~~ Macbeth, Shakespear

“All stories told have been told before. We tell them to ourselves, as did all men who ever were. And all men who ever will be. The only things new are the names.”

“The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon.”

“What do you know?”

“Almost everything. That almost part can be a real kick in the teeth sometimes.”

“What do you want, then?”

“What I can’t have.” Wit turned to him, eyes solemn. “Same as everyone else, Kaladin Stormblessed.”

"Two blind men waited at the end of an era, contemplating beauty. They sat atop the world’s highest cliff, overlooking the land and seeing nothing.

'Can beauty be taken from a man?' the first asked the second.

'It was taken from me,' the second replied. 'For I cannot remember it.' This man was blinded in a childhood accident. 'I pray to the God Beyond each night to restore my sight, so that I can find beauty again.'

'Is beauty something one must see then?' the first asked.

'Of course. That is it’s nature. How can you appreciate a work of art without seeing it?'

'I can hear a work of music,' the first said.

'Very well, you can hear some kinds of beauty - but you cannot know full beauty without sight. You can know only a small portion of beauty.'

'A sculpture,' the first said. 'Can I not feel its curves and slopes, the touch of the chisel that transformed common rock into uncommon wonder?'

'I suppose,' said the second, 'that you can know the beauty of a sculpture.'

'And what of the beauty of food? Is it not a work of art when a chef crafts a masterpiece to delight the tastes?'

'I suppose,' said the second, 'that you can know the beauty of a chef’s art.'

'And what of the beauty of a woman,' the first said. 'Can I not know her beauty in the softness of her caress, the kindness of her voice, the keenness of her mind as she reads philosophy to me? Can I not know this beauty? Can I not know most kinds of beauty, even without seeing it?'

'Very well,' said the second. 'But what if your ears were removed, your hearing taken away? Your tongue taken out, your mouth forced shut, your sense of smell destroyed? What if your skin were burned so that you could no longer feel? What if all that remained to you was pain? You could not know beauty then. It can be taken from a man.'"

The messenger stopped, cocking his head to Shallan.
"What?" she asked.

"What think you? Can beauty be taken from a man? If he could not touch, taste, smell, hear, see, what if all he knew was pain? Has that man had beauty taken away from him?"

"I…" What did this have to do with anything? "Does the pain change day by day?"

"Let us say it does," the messenger said.

"Then beauty, to that person, would be the times when the pain lessens. Why are you telling me this story?"

The messenger smiled. "To be human is to seek beauty, Shallan. Do not despair, do not end the hunt because thorns grow in your way. Tell me, what is the most beautiful thing you can imagine?"


“In this,” Wit said, “as in all things, our actions give us away. If an artist creates a work of powerful beauty – using new and innovative techniques – she will be lauded as a master, and will launch a new movement in aesthetics. Yet what if another, working independently with that exact level of skill, were to make the same accomplishments the very next month? Would she find similar acclaim? No. She’d be called derivative.

“So it’s not beauty itself we admire. It’s not the force of intellect. It’s not the invention, aesthetics, or capacity itself. The greatest talent we think a man can have?” He plucked a final string. “Seems to me that it must be nothing more than novelty.”

"A blind man awaited the era of endings," Wit said, "contemplating the beauty of nature."


"That man is me," Wit noted. "I'm not physically blind, just spiritually. And that other statement was actually very clever, if you think about it."

"What is it to be witty, then?”

“To say clever things.”

“And what is cleverness?”

“I…” Why was he having this conversation? “I guess it’s the ability to say and do the right things at the right time.”

The King’s Wit cocked his head, then smiled.

“Expectation. That is the true soul of art. If you can give a man more than he expects, then he will laud you his entire life. If you can create an air of anticipation and feed it properly, you will succeed.

“Conversely, if you gain a reputation for being too good, too skilled . . . beware. The better art will be in their heads, and if you give them an ounce less than they imagined, suddenly you have failed. Suddenly you are useless. A man will find a single coin in the mud and talk about it for days, but when his inheritance comes and is accounted one percent less than he expected, then he will declare himself cheated.”

Wit shook his head, standing up and dusting off his coat. “Give me an audience who have come to be entertained, but who expect nothing special. To them, I will be a god. That is the best truth I know.”

~~ Stromlight Archive, Brandon Sanderson

"You see, whether you can draw like this or not, being able to think up this kind of design, it depends on whether or not you can say to yourself, ‘Oh, yeah, girls like this exist in real life. If you don’t spend time watching real people, you can’t do this, because you’ve never seen it. Some people spend their lives interested only in themselves. Almost all Japanese animation is produced with hardly any basis taken from observing real people, you know. It’s produced by humans who can’t stand looking at other humans. And that’s why the industry is full of otaku!"
-Hayao Miyazaki

"In culture an analogous situation leads to the emergence of enclaves shut up in ghettos, where intellectual production likewise stagnates because of inbreeding in the form of incessant repetition of the selfsame creative patterns and techniques. The internal dynamics of the ghetto may appear to be intense, but with the passage of years it becomes evident that this is only a semblance of motion, since it leads nowhere, since it neither feeds into nor is fed by the open domain of culture, since it does not generate new patterns or trends, and since finally it nurses the falsest of notions about itself, for lack of any honest evaluation of its activities from outside."

~Stanislaw Lem, author of Solaris

Some heartfelt music while you lurk


I just don't want you to have a Bad Time...

What do I live for?

"I think I've seen this movie before." -@Guess Who


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Most Recent Posts

Posting will come around tomorrow hopefully.

>One week later...
@Crimson Raven

Are you able to post anytime soon so that we can move the meeting scene forward? I think you are the only one in the MFF side who didn't react to that yet.

Nah. I told Lmpkio to post again.

Skip me in this round.

Akane Yurei

Direct interaction with: @TheWindel, relevant: @Lmpkio

As the Dragon Queen let her down, the small fox leapt off. As she fell, her form began to glow with a gentle heatless firelight, trailing phantom embers. The light began to grow and expand, first becoming formless, then reforming. Where once were four, two feet hit the ground, followed by a knee. The humanoid figure rose, growing still in size and gaining definition. Recognizably feminine in form, with long, flowing snow-white hair that parted around two tall foxlike ears and framed a pair of glowing yellow eyes in a breath-takingly beautiful face. She wore a red-trimmed white kimono, tied at the waist with a red sash. Long, pointed nails adorned the end of each finger, and on her feet were a pair of geta sandals. One by one, white-furred tails appeared behind her. Eight formed, and there was an odd pause, as if something was supposed to happen but didn't, and a ninth tail failed to grow. In it's place, there was a shimmer of air in the form of a ghostly tail. She was on the small side for a kaiju, but her sandals were tall enough to bring the Kitsune eye-to-eye with the Dragon Queen.

Mako stretched and let out a sigh. "It's good to be full sized again." She said aloud. Then, quick as a wink, she spun, lifted up on her tiptoes, and gave the Dragon Queen a mischievous kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the ride, sweetie." Then, laughing, she skipped back as the Dragon Queen began to lift off.

"You know, the humans do exactly as we do; protect their own. But vengeance ends with mercy." She called out. But the Dragon Queen didn't reply.

She was a receding speck in the distance what a thought occurred to Mako. "Drat. I didn't even get to ask her name. I can't very well keep calling her 'Dragon Queen'. It's insufferably pretentious." She pouted. Truth be told, The Dragon Queen did make her nervous. Just being around her, Mako could feel an aura of power stronger any kaiju she has ever met. That nervousness made her forget to ask in the moment.

"Oh well!" She proclaimed to the cold air, stretching again. "I'll ask next time I see her, whether in this century or the next." Intuition told her it would be much sooner than that. "I'd better get back soon. Poor Yashiro is probably fuming about now." Mako knew she was in for a stern and long-winded lecture from the chief when she got back. But the trip really had been worth it.

With a twinge of regret after being full sized again, she shrunk back into human form. Heatless fire once again consuming her in the transition. The transformation also intentionally veiled her presence from any GMG scanners. Moving quickly, Akane sat on a nearby stone, and pulled out an electronic tablet. A stylus in hand, she began to sketch the Dragon Queen in careful detail from different angles, including notes on everything from size to the sheen of her scales. She finished off by jotting down a few thoughts and a few things she wanted to research. Finished, she tucked the device safely away.

Next she spent a few minutes messing up her appearance, mussing her hair, scooping dust on her clothes, and so on. Once she was satisfied that she actually looked like she had been in the field, she shifted into a black crow and slowly flew back to the city in the distance.

It took quite a while to get back. By the time the main gates were in view, it had been an hour or so since the attack. She really wasn't good at flying. Akane winged her way into the city, disappearing behind a veil as she did. She landed in an alley clear of people and transformed back into a human. She dropped the veil too, appearing out of thin air. Exhausted, she pulled out a cell and, after turning it on, made a call.

Minutes later, she stepped out of a MFF vehicle in front of headquarters. Hands in her pockets, she strolled in like she owned the place. Her first order of business was to find Yashiro to get yelled at. Second was to hit the research again on the Dragon Queen. Third was much the same but on Warp Quakes.

Her stomach rumbled. Okay, first was to get yelled at, second was food. She amended.

Akane Yurei

Direct interaction with: @TheWindel

The kitsune seemed entirely unconcerned. Neither the threat of burning up, nor the ire of the kaiju fazed her. She shifted her perch to be out of the wind, then resumed to groom while chatting cheerily. Of course, of course, darling. Just to be able to experience your majesty and beauty up close makes this excursion worth it. Yet, I'm not satisfied. I have just a few questions for you. I won't take too much of your valuable time, so I shall make these questions three. First, what do you know of how 'we' get here? Second, what is your opinion on the MFF? A foe? An annoyance, perhaps? Third, why do you show up only once an a great while and then leave immediately? I've been following your movements for some time, I'm quite a fan, and of all the kaiju I've ever studied, you are the only one I cannot puzzle out. It is quite vexing to say the least, and I am not one often vexed, which makes you all the more intriguing.
Tis a sad day.

Still around. I was intentionally waiting for other people to do some posting, while also being on the busy side irl.
Or maybe it was a Grue.

Keep those lanterns lit, folks.
Yeah. I think (hope) it's just a combination of Thanksgiving for us 'Mericans and the RP being slowed by this scene.
Urgh, Holidays. Amiright?
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