"Didn't happen to be cracked on prostitution.... no... Did I say prostitution? I meant farming mary jane."
Enarr
Member
STATUS:
I'm tempted to say "I've lost better friends than you" to a lote of people lately. I'm not sure what I ever want to say to the better friends that I've lost, though.
9 mos ago
- Last Seen: 17 days ago
- Old Guild Username: nightrunner
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1782 (0.39 / day)
- VMs: 22
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- Enarr 6 yrs ago
- ████████████ 6 yrs ago
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9 mos ago
Current
I'm tempted to say "I've lost better friends than you" to a lote of people lately. I'm not sure what I ever want to say to the better friends that I've lost, though.
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Bio
Twelve years ago, I said something on this website that continues to embarrassing me to this day. I was a stupid kid, like most, but I've never quite gotten the taste out of my mouth. Anyone who knew me at the time can tell you about it.
I love this website. I'm pretty sure my phylactery is stored wherever the webserver is and a significant chunk of me will just disappear when it ceases operation. Until then, it comforts me. I should go to the hardware store and paint my bedroom walls with the same soft, brownish grey that the background color has been for the last twelve years. Some of my friends can't wait for the site to go offline but I don't know of any other places that offer the same sense of community.
I'm an omni-gamer. I like board games, tabletop roleplaying games, admire tabletop war games, suck at riddles, and have an absurd library of video games. Survival horror is basically my favorite genre. Otherwise I'm a fan of esoteric, occult bullshit and punk rock. But disco's cool. Disco is what humanity sounds like when it chooses to be happy. Between you and I, I'd like to hope that the days of my life can sparkle like a disco ball, accreting like sparks from a grinder held up against the unwavering dark of deaths own shadow. Burn baby burn.
You and I, we're gonna die. We should be friends first, though. Write some checks we can't cash and make eachother smile. Make believe for a while.
I love this website. I'm pretty sure my phylactery is stored wherever the webserver is and a significant chunk of me will just disappear when it ceases operation. Until then, it comforts me. I should go to the hardware store and paint my bedroom walls with the same soft, brownish grey that the background color has been for the last twelve years. Some of my friends can't wait for the site to go offline but I don't know of any other places that offer the same sense of community.
I'm an omni-gamer. I like board games, tabletop roleplaying games, admire tabletop war games, suck at riddles, and have an absurd library of video games. Survival horror is basically my favorite genre. Otherwise I'm a fan of esoteric, occult bullshit and punk rock. But disco's cool. Disco is what humanity sounds like when it chooses to be happy. Between you and I, I'd like to hope that the days of my life can sparkle like a disco ball, accreting like sparks from a grinder held up against the unwavering dark of deaths own shadow. Burn baby burn.
You and I, we're gonna die. We should be friends first, though. Write some checks we can't cash and make eachother smile. Make believe for a while.
Most Recent Posts
In
You are sitting in the back of a cop car with the avatar above... (Game)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Spam Forum
Arm-ory *snorts to himself*
Now you can reply to me too, Face.
"Very well, then. I'll get him," Eric said, taking a deep breath. Not sure I'll be back in time, though, with this cliche' bit of inability to keep a portal open. Turning his attention and explicitly speaking to Rufus he said, "You stay behind until everyone else is through. Can't afford anyone being stranded without a ride. Except the twins," he added, fully realizing no one else would appreciate his dark humor.
Stepping away from the colony of Titans, he threw his wings open and flapped, throwing himself forward as he got a running start to the nearest window. He kept rowing like oars hung on his arms until he smashed out the window and his wings caught onto a thermal. He saw the Kryptonian ripping apart the military equipment. Maybe he isn't the solid decision maker I almost gave him credit for being.
"Sentinel!" he barked. Need to find his name, this is almost childish. Eh, I'll just use Facebook to find him later. Getting closer, he increased his volume. "Sentinel, we're leaving now!" That Kryptonian grade hearing is only as good as the attention he's paying. Just hope he doesn't get too... passionate.
Overhead, Eric saw a flying helicopter larger than any he'd ever seen. On it was a rotary cannon with a belt holding glowing green crystals. Unsure if that meant it was carrying Kryptonite, which he didn't see being too unlikely given that Luthor well knew the needs of humans to do battle with aliens, he took flight upward and nabbed the immediate attention of the gunman. Chirping quickly, he got an idea of how many were onboard. Saving himself the time of fighing them all, he dodged a steady stream of projectiles behind him before ducking under the helicopter, finding the engine access, and ripping out one of the belts in the motor's pulley.
As the chopper went down, he watched the army men leap out before swapping to handguns.
The entire ordeal took about seven seconds, but it was seven too many. "Now... or NEVER!"
Stepping away from the colony of Titans, he threw his wings open and flapped, throwing himself forward as he got a running start to the nearest window. He kept rowing like oars hung on his arms until he smashed out the window and his wings caught onto a thermal. He saw the Kryptonian ripping apart the military equipment. Maybe he isn't the solid decision maker I almost gave him credit for being.
"Sentinel!" he barked. Need to find his name, this is almost childish. Eh, I'll just use Facebook to find him later. Getting closer, he increased his volume. "Sentinel, we're leaving now!" That Kryptonian grade hearing is only as good as the attention he's paying. Just hope he doesn't get too... passionate.
Overhead, Eric saw a flying helicopter larger than any he'd ever seen. On it was a rotary cannon with a belt holding glowing green crystals. Unsure if that meant it was carrying Kryptonite, which he didn't see being too unlikely given that Luthor well knew the needs of humans to do battle with aliens, he took flight upward and nabbed the immediate attention of the gunman. Chirping quickly, he got an idea of how many were onboard. Saving himself the time of fighing them all, he dodged a steady stream of projectiles behind him before ducking under the helicopter, finding the engine access, and ripping out one of the belts in the motor's pulley.
As the chopper went down, he watched the army men leap out before swapping to handguns.
The entire ordeal took about seven seconds, but it was seven too many. "Now... or NEVER!"
I'm here. Just being a bum by busying myself with another RP. It's good stuff and they're friends of mine. Plus it's a rebooted version of the first game I played more than five minutes.
I'll post shortly. But you can stop panicking, cuz your cool and reserved friend Nightrunner is here.
I'll post shortly. But you can stop panicking, cuz your cool and reserved friend Nightrunner is here.
Ugh. So many people, so few posts
Still, you brought her back, evidently, literally to send her to hell, man. Not cool. Roy would be pissed at you.
Because I'm Batman!
I could understand resurrecting Lian to heaven or a peaceful life like Superboy evidently got, but you've really done her no favors in bringing her here, Wraith.
I could understand resurrecting Lian to heaven or a peaceful life like Superboy evidently got, but you've really done her no favors in bringing her here, Wraith.
Blue Paladin 9 sounds like a username you choose when you're out of ideas.
Sleeping besides the air conditioner, Joseph Marino woke up with his quivering bangs shagging in his eyes. The cold air was refreshing, but being stabbed in the eye by his own hair was not. Thus he sat up and reached for the power cord, snatching it out of the wall before hearing the slowed whining of it dying down. Freezin' my balls off anyway.
Swiveling his legs off his bed, he scooted off and walked through the room with his eyes shut until he couldn't stand jabbing his toes against the dumbbells and handguns scattered on his floor.
He'd gone to sleep wearing a sleeveless undershirt. The first thing he put on was a white t-shirt, tucking it into black jeans and slipping on a navy blue windbreaker over it. He finally woke the rest of the way up when he styled his hair, weighing it down with cold water and slicking it back with heavy get. He scooped a dark blue ball cap over his hair before skidaddling downstairs. Another generation would say he resembled the unibomber in a way. That generation was exactly the group he had business scaring.
Cutting through the dining room, he froze when he saw some disgraceful One Direction wannabe eating breakfast at the table of killers.
"Damien," he scoffed. "What the hell are you wearing? We're the Italian mob, not a boy band."
"Go choke on a dick, Joe. At least I can get a girl."
"Fff, whatever. Just leave the twelve-year old skanks at whatever nursery you usually fish 'em out of."
"F*** off Joe. Tonight I'm going to a party at the park."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure that you got business helping with a cleanup job tonight and I'm goin' to the park."
"I ain't gotta job tonight."
"Ya do now. If ya' don't like it take it up with my pops. You know Manslaughter Marino, right?"
"F*** you, Joe," he mumbled before going back to his breakfast in defeat.
At that, Joe slipped away, cutting through the foyer and out the front door into his car and out the driveway. Damien watched the red sports car fly down the brick driveway, past a fountain carved to resemble a pissing angel and through the treeline before stopping at the gate at their house's perimeter. The house was designed to protect them from any competing criminal organizations or a raid from law enforcement. At the drop of a hat they'd be able to electrify the fences, burn down the house, and ride away using a tunnel under their house on specially reserved mopeds. They also had a helipad. Cuz plan B.
No sooner did Joe clear the fence and give the neighbor kid the finger like every day than Damien recieved a call. Thirty seconds later and it was a voice message.
"Listen Damien... I'm sorry. You don't have a job tonight, I'm just tryin' to help you before you make a fool of yourself. I'll be at school. Next time I call though, pick up the damn phone. Bye."
Swiveling his legs off his bed, he scooted off and walked through the room with his eyes shut until he couldn't stand jabbing his toes against the dumbbells and handguns scattered on his floor.
He'd gone to sleep wearing a sleeveless undershirt. The first thing he put on was a white t-shirt, tucking it into black jeans and slipping on a navy blue windbreaker over it. He finally woke the rest of the way up when he styled his hair, weighing it down with cold water and slicking it back with heavy get. He scooped a dark blue ball cap over his hair before skidaddling downstairs. Another generation would say he resembled the unibomber in a way. That generation was exactly the group he had business scaring.
Cutting through the dining room, he froze when he saw some disgraceful One Direction wannabe eating breakfast at the table of killers.
"Damien," he scoffed. "What the hell are you wearing? We're the Italian mob, not a boy band."
"Go choke on a dick, Joe. At least I can get a girl."
"Fff, whatever. Just leave the twelve-year old skanks at whatever nursery you usually fish 'em out of."
"F*** off Joe. Tonight I'm going to a party at the park."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure that you got business helping with a cleanup job tonight and I'm goin' to the park."
"I ain't gotta job tonight."
"Ya do now. If ya' don't like it take it up with my pops. You know Manslaughter Marino, right?"
"F*** you, Joe," he mumbled before going back to his breakfast in defeat.
At that, Joe slipped away, cutting through the foyer and out the front door into his car and out the driveway. Damien watched the red sports car fly down the brick driveway, past a fountain carved to resemble a pissing angel and through the treeline before stopping at the gate at their house's perimeter. The house was designed to protect them from any competing criminal organizations or a raid from law enforcement. At the drop of a hat they'd be able to electrify the fences, burn down the house, and ride away using a tunnel under their house on specially reserved mopeds. They also had a helipad. Cuz plan B.
No sooner did Joe clear the fence and give the neighbor kid the finger like every day than Damien recieved a call. Thirty seconds later and it was a voice message.
"Listen Damien... I'm sorry. You don't have a job tonight, I'm just tryin' to help you before you make a fool of yourself. I'll be at school. Next time I call though, pick up the damn phone. Bye."
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