Pianos
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: 13 days ago
- Old Guild Username: nightrunner
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1782 (0.39 / day)
- VMs: 22
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Username history
- Enarr 6 yrs ago
- ████████████ 6 yrs ago
- ███████████ 12 yrs ago
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Status
Recent Statuses
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
-133
Melbourne, Australia
They say that the human body is mostly made of water. Dark Jace, a multiversal demigod empowered the excretion of Regular Jace’s tears, was no exception. Since he’d arrived in this hellish dystopia, referred to as “The Real World”, he couldn’t help but be thrown off by the absurdly large quantities of water, everywhere. Since he often traveled by transforming into a blot of tearful mist that soared on the winds, he had to dedicate his precious time to disentangling the putrid humidity from his pristine droplets.
Given that he had now been disentangling himself for what felt like four months, in spite of the fact it had definitely only been a matter of seconds, he felt so deeply unclean that he swore he could slaughter millions, bathe in their blood, and still feel violated by the end of it all.
Having been grooming himself under the cover of the underside of RJ’s bed frame, he braced himself. Finally feeling that he was presentable, or at least presentable enough to stand before such an inelegant bum as Regular Jace, he firmly grasped hold of Jace’s bedsheets and blankets and pulled hard. Like an amateur magician failing to rip a tablecloth from beneath a bottle of wine, he yanked Regular Jace out of bed, causing him to hit the ground so hard that he heard RJ’s bones break like a shot glass against concrete.
As his hips shattered, Regular Jace’s eyes opened with an emotionless understanding, the unfeeling considerations of one who has given up on life. While Regular Jace’s mouth was silent, his body language was more than sufficient. Dark Jace listened intently to what Jace’s body was telling him. Regular Jace’s intestines wriggled like fire hoses within him. They spoke of a desire so primal and familiar that Dark Jace intuitively understood.
“What’s the matter, Regular Jace? You look slightly more pathetic today than usual, which I would normally think of as a good thing but I noticed that you’re not crying as much as usual.”
Regular Jace nodded his head, spreading his lips as if to take a breath before losing interest, seeming to be overcome by the suffocating grip of depression. But RJ had something to say, even if it was something that his mouth couldn’t say. So his ass did.
“It’s my bowels,” his anus announced, modulating an Australian accent as closely as possible, with an uneven pace owed to the fact that the bottleneck for its speech was the amount of putrid air that sat within his intestines. The strain that opening up demanded was evident from the look on RJ’s face, as his eyes dilated, focusing to a finer point than a Ticonderoga pencil ever could. Every vein in his face bulged to the surface as his back end spoke the words that he could not find, “My bowels are unusually irritated lately. Furious. They will not be sated until they taste blood.”
“I see,” Dark Jace nodded, understanding. “You won’t be able to resume your usual whining until your bowels know what it’s like to have blood on their hands. I think I can help with that.” A smile crept over Dark Jace’s lips as he saw a familiar-looking kangaroo outside his window, “and I know just where to start.”
They say that the human body is mostly made of water. Dark Jace, a multiversal demigod empowered the excretion of Regular Jace’s tears, was no exception. Since he’d arrived in this hellish dystopia, referred to as “The Real World”, he couldn’t help but be thrown off by the absurdly large quantities of water, everywhere. Since he often traveled by transforming into a blot of tearful mist that soared on the winds, he had to dedicate his precious time to disentangling the putrid humidity from his pristine droplets.
Given that he had now been disentangling himself for what felt like four months, in spite of the fact it had definitely only been a matter of seconds, he felt so deeply unclean that he swore he could slaughter millions, bathe in their blood, and still feel violated by the end of it all.
Having been grooming himself under the cover of the underside of RJ’s bed frame, he braced himself. Finally feeling that he was presentable, or at least presentable enough to stand before such an inelegant bum as Regular Jace, he firmly grasped hold of Jace’s bedsheets and blankets and pulled hard. Like an amateur magician failing to rip a tablecloth from beneath a bottle of wine, he yanked Regular Jace out of bed, causing him to hit the ground so hard that he heard RJ’s bones break like a shot glass against concrete.
As his hips shattered, Regular Jace’s eyes opened with an emotionless understanding, the unfeeling considerations of one who has given up on life. While Regular Jace’s mouth was silent, his body language was more than sufficient. Dark Jace listened intently to what Jace’s body was telling him. Regular Jace’s intestines wriggled like fire hoses within him. They spoke of a desire so primal and familiar that Dark Jace intuitively understood.
“What’s the matter, Regular Jace? You look slightly more pathetic today than usual, which I would normally think of as a good thing but I noticed that you’re not crying as much as usual.”
Regular Jace nodded his head, spreading his lips as if to take a breath before losing interest, seeming to be overcome by the suffocating grip of depression. But RJ had something to say, even if it was something that his mouth couldn’t say. So his ass did.
“It’s my bowels,” his anus announced, modulating an Australian accent as closely as possible, with an uneven pace owed to the fact that the bottleneck for its speech was the amount of putrid air that sat within his intestines. The strain that opening up demanded was evident from the look on RJ’s face, as his eyes dilated, focusing to a finer point than a Ticonderoga pencil ever could. Every vein in his face bulged to the surface as his back end spoke the words that he could not find, “My bowels are unusually irritated lately. Furious. They will not be sated until they taste blood.”
“I see,” Dark Jace nodded, understanding. “You won’t be able to resume your usual whining until your bowels know what it’s like to have blood on their hands. I think I can help with that.” A smile crept over Dark Jace’s lips as he saw a familiar-looking kangaroo outside his window, “and I know just where to start.”
Banned because Generation One is full of bad or otherwise unremarkable creature design
-133
The common raccoon is a remarkable and beautiful creature capably of causing great mischief thanks to its extremely dexterous fingers
Fracture
I am an anti-capitalist anarchist and have been since I was eighteen years old
In
The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Nicholas
Did he need to do something about Archie? Definitely maybe not right now. The young man was leveling out. He wore a heart monitor right? Or something like that, he’d reasoned out. Did he almost transform into a kaiju every single time he went on a walk? Archie seemed a little too mopey-go-lucky to be numb enough to suppress all of his emotions effectively.
’Lobotomy?’ offered a voice inside his head that wasn’t his fathers, at least not entirely. At the thought, he felt his cheeks burn with the most intense shame that he had ever felt.
“Nicholas, right? I’m Keaton, and you’re not a spy, but are you sure you want to stick around? We’re about to discuss doing something infinitely more stupid than throwing an explosive at a giant lizard so if you’re staying, know that you’re going to be involved.”
You’re definitely not a spy? Actually, in an ironic sort of way, he really explicitly was a spy.
“Well,” he started, “you seem a little too calculated for that to actually be true. To be perfectly frank, I have no idea what’s going on.” He turned to Archie, “Speaking of which, sorry about that.” Resuming, he thought “I already seem to be involved, so… what the hell?” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
At that, he heard Eli groan, already exhausted, "Let's just get this meeting over with and go for some pizza."
“Sounds.. delightful,” Nic commented before offering, “My treat.”
Then Eli said “sit with me,” and tapped the seat beside her. He was more than happy to oblige. In fact, he was so overcome with jubilation that he beamed like a lighthouse before realizing that she had actually been addressing Lynn. Stomping out the embers of hope like a used cigarette, he winced and picked a seat diagonally positioned, so that he could still get a decent view. Unfortunately, that did place him directly across from Hephaestus Lynn, who seemed to be toying with the idea of murdering him even more intensely than he had been considering pacifying Archie.
As he heard Keaton’s discourse on the possibility of children being onboard, he couldn’t help but cringe. He’d seen too many children kept in cages. Mostly because he’d helped put them there. This seemed like as good of a time as he was ever going to get to redeem himself.
As Archie demonstrated an explicit understanding of his lack of fine control, Nic felt the beginnings of a newfound legitimate respect developing. Not just that Archie wasn’t an asshole. It was more than that. He was a humble, gentle soul. The kind of person worth protecting, even as much as other people needed to be protected from him. In a sense, that kinda was the function of The Promise. A place where people like Archie weren’t a danger to ‘normal’ or ‘important’ people. He’d have to think on that.
When he heard Natalie’s backstory, he shuddered. Seemed fairly familiar. While he had never been scientifically experimented on, per say, he was basically a case study in non-conventional warfare. Should he share that? Probably. But was he going to right now? No.
When Amelia gave her impassioned take on it, wrapping up with “I'm in it through the long haul with you guys. So I guess my only other question then is, how far do we wanna push this?
“Other than Natalie and Archie, I have no idea what you guys can do, so I’m not sure what to suggest entirely but.. I for one can release spores that infect people and let me see through their eyes, also transmitting their vision to anyone else infected within range. If you guys wanted to do some additional surveillance or trailing people who go in and out of The Spire, I could probably help with that a lot.”
“That said, there really isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do to rescue whoever is in there. I know a place we could hide out back on Earth, if it helps, but I don’t really have any ideas on getting everyone there from here.”
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