Recent Statuses

4 days ago
Current Discord Shennaigans: "Never met someone in a long distance relationship with their own imagination before." --someone else
8 days ago
On the other hand...
8 days ago
If the shoe fits like a glove, how should one wear it?
10 days ago
*rolls status check* *gets a critical 1* "I have no idea what I'm feeling. What are feelings anyway?"
1 like
14 days ago
Feeling a severe lack of motivation. Sorry, just in a funk.
1 like


― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless

Note: If I look inactive or sporadic, I’m not. The two main RPs I’m in do quite a lot on Discord. Regardless of my posting history or frequency, I’m on daily.

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)

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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Just “1” or will a “2” do?



[color9e0b0f]We are going to keep the world safe with this sorry bunch?[/color] The Dragoness thought exasperated at the dangerous antics of the two wyvern riders.

Kara clears her throat, creating a not-entirely-human-sounding grinding noise. "Now that introductions are out of the way, I see no reason to stick around. We make for the exit. I will take point at the mouth of this street," She points past the knight to where the figures of several enemy soldiers coming to attack could be seen. "My scales and speed will be more then a match for this sorry rabble." She says with pride, then her eyes narrow dangerously and her voice falls into a growl. "Keep close but stay out of my way, unless you're tired of living. For I will blaze a path through friend or foe!" She finishes with a triumphant roar, and she took a running leap and with wings outstretched, gliding right over Titania, Osmund, and Virida, to touch down on the other side of them and, without missing a step, charging down the street. From the perspective of anyone watching, it might have seemed like she had a death wish. She was a small, slim, unarmed and unarmored woman charging three big, burly, armed soldiers. Surely she was crazy!

Ferrin Astra

Tenrou Team - Discretion is the better part of not dying horribly.



There was not other creature on the face of Earth-land that was more powerful, or dangerous, then this mystical being. Fear flowed in a wave, crashing into the party. Ferrin thought quickly. Do they stand and fight, or try to make an escape?

Ferrin stepped forward and grabbed Sasha's wrist in a literal iron grip. "Stop." He commanded, all trace of laughter gone. This was a serious Ferrin. A dangerous Ferrin.

Before anyone could move far, Ferrin spoke up. Raising his voice to aggress everyone and even amplifying it slightly with magic, he repeated, "Stop. This isn't a fight we need to win. Even if we succeed, we will all be tired and maybe wounded. Or worse. Let's retreat while we have the chance, to find a better place to take a stand, if we must. Time Lord will hold it, Dragonslayers, cover our retreat. I, and anyone else with the right talent, will cover our trail, including scent." He caught Sasha's eye. "We aren't 'running off', we will move as a group." He released her and strode over to Time Lord, who was struggling to hold the dragon.

"Can you hold the spell if someone carries you as we move?" He asked without preamble.

Flavia Astra

@Lord Sawsaw2, @Rune_Alchemist, @alexfangtalon

Flavia ruminated on the Ladon incident, feeling like they had missed an important opportunity. Perhaps if Miss Adrasia had been a little less...aggressive in her approach? Having the Poison Slayer on their side would be a great asset to their team.

Then again, considering his volatile temper...

No use focusing on the past. Keep moving forward. Miss Adrasia had just asked a question. "Well...we train together often so you probably know more about what I can and can't do more then I, myself, know. But you two..." She turned her head toward Ceri and Anna. "I know a bit about your magic, Ceri. I've seen you disappear in a puff of smoke more then once." She smiled at the small girl. "But, uh, Anna was it? I know nothing about your abilities, sorry." She muttered, for some reason apologetically, all the while avoiding looking directly at the blue-haired girl.

Engrossed in conversation, Flavia didn't realize they had arrived until Illedrith pointed it out. Then, Ceri suggested to scout. "I think that's a good idea." The young girl added in encouragement.

Ferrin Astra

Tenrou Team - Catching up with an old (imaginary) friend


“Ferrin? Mavis? You’re concerning the others.”

Ferrin stopped, mouth open for another retort. A slow dawning of sheepish realization crossed his face as he looked around at the various reactions of the other wizards: some concerned, some disinterested, and some amused.

Mavis broke into giggles. His mouth shut with a click, exasperation and embarrassment dueling for control of his expression. The two made a truce and compromised. Then he sighed. There goes any semblance of sanity I had in their eyes. Along with some of my dignity too. I am in this deep, might as well go all in. He thought.

"Excuse me," He drawled, drawing himself up and putting an arm around the small guildmaster's insubstantial shoulders. "I'm going to have a private word with my imaginary friend."

He shepherded Mavis, who was playing along and still shaking with mirth, several long paces away until they were out of normal earshot. Then, Ferrin cast a sound-dampening spell, that would obsure their conversation from even the keen ears of a dragon slayer.

Mavis watched him work with an amused expression. "Always so careful. "Always so secretive. You haven't changed a bit."

Ferrin turned back to her and gave a half roll of his shoulder in a lazy shrug. "By my reckoning it's only been five months since I last saw you."

He sobered as the extent of what he said sank in. "Gods...has it really been so short a time? Just five months ago I took that job. Five months ago, I walked out of the Fairy Tail guildhall. Five months since I last--" His voice broke. "...Last saw my wife and unborn child." He closed his eyes, grief welling up anew.

"Five months...and nearly four hundred years."

Mavis's expression fell at her friend's pain. "Oh, Magus. I'm so sorry."

His sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, but Ferrin took in a slow breath and let it out again. He composed himself and opened his eyes. "That is why I'm here. I'm looking for a way back. I'll make it back, so why be sad about it now?" He forced a smile, trying to believe his own words. "Meeting you here is fortunate, I've never met anyone with your talent for magic, and there is a man here, goes by the rather pretentious name 'Time Lord', he uses Temporal Magic the likes of which I have never seen. Between you, me and him...well we will probably end up mastering Time itself." He forced some jocularity into his last words. He continued on, feeling a bit like a kid again, confiding to his parents what he wants to be when he grows up. "Anyway, that is for a later conversation. We have more pressing matters at hand. This may not be my Time, but I still care about those here. I'll still leave my mark here, just you wait. Afterward," He held up a finger and pointed at Mavis. "You and me are going to have a long talk."

Mavis smiled gently. "I look forward to it." She murmured.

Ferrin narrowed his yellow eyes at her, noting the faint evasive tone. But he let it pass uncontested. He shook his head.

"It's good to see you, Magus." She said, suddenly.

He blinked at the sudden shift, then realized just how long it had been for her. He smiled warmly. "It's good to see you too, Guildmaster." Magus replied.

They shared a warm moment. A moment between two close friends, Teacher and Student, Guildmaster and Wizard, and comrades-in-arms, who suddenly found themselves reunited after a long, difficult time.

And then it was over. "Shall we rejoin the others?" Ferrin asked.

"Yes, lets. Poor Sasha looks a bit impatient."

The walked a few paces before Ferrin abruptly stopped. "Mavis?"


"Do not tell anyone I am a member of Fairy Tail. It...just does not feel right. Please?"

It was Mavis' turn to be surprised at the sudden change. "'Please'?" She asked incredulously.

Ferrin scowled at her.

"All right. I won't mention it."

Ferrin nodded his thanks and resumed walking.

When he rejoined the others, Ferrin looked almost like a new man. His smile was sharper, he stood straighter, as if a great burden had been lifted. His face, which had seemingly aged with stress lines, looked young again.

He stopped just short and gave a flourishing bow. "Sorry for the wait, Ladies and Gentlemen, your Leading Man has returned." He proclaimed in a grand voice.

Behind him, Mavis rolled her eyes. He was back to his old self, it seemed.

Sorry, Raijin. But anything else aside:

Asura Slayers do not replenish themselves by devouring an element but by destroying matter with their magic and then absorbing it

Straight no go.

Can replenish their magic with with...their own magic? Ixnay. Violates basic rule of slayers, and one of the few things that keeps them balanced

If this were true, you could ask why Natsu, for example, doesn't just light some wood on fire and eat that
Answer: He can't

You downplayed this in his ability assessment, so you saw the potential for abuse, but you cited it as a lack of experience, which means that he would get straight OP as things went on.

Flavia Astra

Flavia watched Lorn go, only feeling worse. "You're wrong." She whispered to the empty air. "I have no light. I never had any 'light'. No magic. No strength." She looked down at the book in her hand. Strange. It was blurry. "I'm weak. Just a screwup. I've always been a screwup." She gazed lifelessly over the books and bits of paper filled with wonderous magic that she couldn't grasp. All motivation gone, evaporated like mist before the sun.

What was the point? How many years has it been? How many days how many hours had she spent, pouring every ounce of herself into learning and mastering the art of magic that came so easily to so many others? Only for her 'light' to slip away. But, this was her fate, after all. Her destiny. It has been since before she was born.

She let the book slip from her fingers. It landed with a muted thud. She was tired. So tired. With a careless sweep of her arm, she scattered the fragments of her research. It didn't matter anyway. She was too tired. She crossed her arms and laid her head down. A nap, then.

An Escape.
@Crimson Raven Yo, how goes?

Same old same old

Hey, Raijin.
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