ERode Member
A Spiny Ant
- Last Seen: 19 hrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 6745 (1.48 / day)
- VMs: 5
-
Username history
- ERode 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Yankee,
Altered Tundra,
Alisdragon911,
stone,
VitaVitaAR,
Animal,
LanaStorm,
Ohm,
Haha,
Shovel
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Most Recent Posts
"Haname Manoka may be mai waifu, but Kasane Kaoru is mai laifu."
Welp, I feel like two days have passed, so I posted.
3PM club meetings were really rather harsh for university, but Katsuo deduced that it was probably just a nostalgic callback to the days of high school and middle school, where there was a unified time schedule for everyone, starting from 8 in the morning and ending at 3 in the afternoon. Well, it was fine, if nothing else. He had already designed this year’s course schedule to stick all his classes in the morning, giving him plenty of time to mess around for the rest of the day. It’ll probably backfire on him after the midterm crunch began to settle in, but for now, the tall Arts major was feeling like the breeze: light, carefree, and ready to do some more networking.
Today, he had chosen to go with a more casual fare, while also showing off some of his experience with the anime genre. Wearing a pair of dark slacks and a clean, white shirt, the dark hoodie that he wore along it was reminiscent of EVA 001. Neon green highlights over the dark purple fabric shone. If they were truly the Anime Club, surely they would recognize a classic like that.
Hitching up his shoulder bag, which contained only his laptop and charger, the messy-haired youth checked the room number once more, before heading down the hallway. Already he could hear the sounds of nerds chattering merrily with each other, though it appeared they were only introducing themselves at the moment. He had chosen a good moment to come in then. He could even hear female voices within that room! That was also nice. If they didn’t prove themselves to be horny fat otakus who fawned over little girls, maybe he’d bring Kaoru over some time.
Well, it would probably do him some good to shake off his preconceptions in regards to the club as well. Looking down either sides of the hallway to ensure that no one who knew him was there to see him infiltrate the territory of the otaku, the student decided to go with the ‘professional’ face for introductions this time around. Turning his face into a stony mask, he strode slowly into the classroom, sliding the door to the side as he stepped in.
Foreigners. Tons of foreigners. Or maybe they were all just half-Japanese. Or dyed their hair. Seemed like metric ton of them were chuunibyous, with all their pale white hair and terribly feminine looks. Wait, no, was it anorexia instead? Or maybe this was the visual-kei club? Would explain the lack of raven-haired Japanese. Coughing, he said, voice still rough from a recent cold, “This is the Anime Club, right?”
Ah, perhaps he should be a little friendlier?
“I’m Kasane Katsuo, second year. Let’s get along, neh?”
Wait, no, what’s most important in anime club would be…
“And…mm….Haname Manoka is my waifu. From Mathematical Girl Logical Manoka. She’s…kawaii desu yo.”
Oh wait, the board spoke of a Vice President election. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken of that…
Today, he had chosen to go with a more casual fare, while also showing off some of his experience with the anime genre. Wearing a pair of dark slacks and a clean, white shirt, the dark hoodie that he wore along it was reminiscent of EVA 001. Neon green highlights over the dark purple fabric shone. If they were truly the Anime Club, surely they would recognize a classic like that.
Hitching up his shoulder bag, which contained only his laptop and charger, the messy-haired youth checked the room number once more, before heading down the hallway. Already he could hear the sounds of nerds chattering merrily with each other, though it appeared they were only introducing themselves at the moment. He had chosen a good moment to come in then. He could even hear female voices within that room! That was also nice. If they didn’t prove themselves to be horny fat otakus who fawned over little girls, maybe he’d bring Kaoru over some time.
Well, it would probably do him some good to shake off his preconceptions in regards to the club as well. Looking down either sides of the hallway to ensure that no one who knew him was there to see him infiltrate the territory of the otaku, the student decided to go with the ‘professional’ face for introductions this time around. Turning his face into a stony mask, he strode slowly into the classroom, sliding the door to the side as he stepped in.
Foreigners. Tons of foreigners. Or maybe they were all just half-Japanese. Or dyed their hair. Seemed like metric ton of them were chuunibyous, with all their pale white hair and terribly feminine looks. Wait, no, was it anorexia instead? Or maybe this was the visual-kei club? Would explain the lack of raven-haired Japanese. Coughing, he said, voice still rough from a recent cold, “This is the Anime Club, right?”
Ah, perhaps he should be a little friendlier?
“I’m Kasane Katsuo, second year. Let’s get along, neh?”
Wait, no, what’s most important in anime club would be…
“And…mm….Haname Manoka is my waifu. From Mathematical Girl Logical Manoka. She’s…kawaii desu yo.”
Oh wait, the board spoke of a Vice President election. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken of that…
Yo.
This is now the OP of the RP. No backtalk allowed.
This is now the OP of the RP. No backtalk allowed.
It was wholly unnecessary for someone like him to seek shelter from the elements, but after seeing Mariam off and wandering late into the night, Ier-Briar was told by one of the nighttime teachers that yes, despite him not having a heartbeat or a fingerprint, he DID have his own room, and that he should go there. So he did, and realized, to his disappointment, that those fleshbags did not provide him with a special room like they did with Biggy and Mariam. Instead, his own room was situated on the bottom floor of the dormitory, secured a card-swipe lock. It took a bit of fiddling before he could get inside, but after he did so, he was surprised to see that his school uniform was packaged up neatly within it as well, placed on a bed made of steel.
Good, they at least knew how to accommodate his weight.
Stretching out and removing his armor, he placed the pile of metal on top of the bed, before leaning his golden spear against the wall. Unlike those weak fleshbags, he had no particular need to stretch out sore limbs, and instead, he laid down on the stone ground. He was naked, of course, for Gemstones had no need for clothing, and that was totally alright. It’s not like he’d catch a cold, after all.
And, just like that, the six year old Gemstone passed time, his eyes never closing, his mind never sleeping.
Eight hours later, he stood up, deciding that he really should find a better way to use his time, something that Ier-Briar really had too much of. Deciding to forgo his armor this time around, he instead put on the school uniform allocated to him. A blazer and a skirt. Odd, but he didn’t particularly care. After all, unlike those simple-minded fleshbags, he cared not for their opinions. Walking on and on until he reached the classroom, which was still primarily empty, the Gemstone sat down and waited.
He waited until class had started, until those filthy fleshbags had begun their introductions of their pointlessly inferior races and pitifully forgetful names, all the way until it was his own turn to speak. Standing up as the teacher motioned for his own introduction, he spoke in a steady tone, staring straight into the dot-sized eyes of the tentacle teacher, “I am Ier-Briar Thorn-of-Shield, pupil of Ezar-Mantine Heart-of-Mountain, of the Gemstone race. Do not think of my body as something as frail as your own.
Maybe he should be a teensy-bit nicer.
“So within the battlefield, care not about my safety, but your own, for my body shall not rot in the battlefield until the enemy has been smote. I shall break their line, so I expect the rest of you to destroy them when they’re scattered.”
He sat down.
“That is all.”
Good, they at least knew how to accommodate his weight.
Stretching out and removing his armor, he placed the pile of metal on top of the bed, before leaning his golden spear against the wall. Unlike those weak fleshbags, he had no particular need to stretch out sore limbs, and instead, he laid down on the stone ground. He was naked, of course, for Gemstones had no need for clothing, and that was totally alright. It’s not like he’d catch a cold, after all.
And, just like that, the six year old Gemstone passed time, his eyes never closing, his mind never sleeping.
Eight hours later, he stood up, deciding that he really should find a better way to use his time, something that Ier-Briar really had too much of. Deciding to forgo his armor this time around, he instead put on the school uniform allocated to him. A blazer and a skirt. Odd, but he didn’t particularly care. After all, unlike those simple-minded fleshbags, he cared not for their opinions. Walking on and on until he reached the classroom, which was still primarily empty, the Gemstone sat down and waited.
He waited until class had started, until those filthy fleshbags had begun their introductions of their pointlessly inferior races and pitifully forgetful names, all the way until it was his own turn to speak. Standing up as the teacher motioned for his own introduction, he spoke in a steady tone, staring straight into the dot-sized eyes of the tentacle teacher, “I am Ier-Briar Thorn-of-Shield, pupil of Ezar-Mantine Heart-of-Mountain, of the Gemstone race. Do not think of my body as something as frail as your own.
Maybe he should be a teensy-bit nicer.
“So within the battlefield, care not about my safety, but your own, for my body shall not rot in the battlefield until the enemy has been smote. I shall break their line, so I expect the rest of you to destroy them when they’re scattered.”
He sat down.
“That is all.”
Posted. Now, that leaves Lunaire.
Lunchtime aromas wafted in the air. The strong scents of sizzling meats from streetside vendors mingled with the flowery aroma of the hundred thousand blossoms that Vue De Mers was privy to raising. Children raced through the streets, happy to be free of their educational obligations for a transient hour, while merchants, taking quick bites of their own lunches, peddled their wares with voices that were growing hoarse. The day was, as always, bright and warm, the sun shining its countless rays down at those who lived below it. It was a wonderful home that Rui-Ling lived in, with the azure sky as his ceiling and the lively streets as his rooms. Clockwork birds ticked and turned, their metallic beaks squawking out advertisements as they glided from one rooftop to the next, engineered to evade any messenger pipes that spanned overhead. Lovely little creations, he had always thought. If he was a more curious soul, Rui-Ling may have wished to dismantle those birds and understand what made them tick, but he was too enamoured by the romance of mystery to do so. Back in his youth, clockwork machinations were bound by gravity. Now, paper wings have granted them the ability to fly.
What a wondrous era they lived in.
Dressed in his usual attire of a loose-fitting white shirt and dark slacks, accompanied by sandles, the young man hefted his rucksack higher up on his shoulder as he greeted familiar faces. Though he still wasn’t on a first-name basis with the merchants that dominated the orderly streets of Chrysanthemum Avenue, he was slowly becoming more familiar with them, with the residents of the new home that he lived in. But today, he didn’t feel like getting lost in the crowd, watching people as they went on with their lives. Today, he was heading to a favorite place of his, to spend the day.
The Hall of Falling Leaves and Flowing Water.
At the far end of Chrysanthemum Avenue, after the crowds have dwindled out and the roads turned into a dirt path, there rested a single, elegant building. Square-shaped with a peaking, tiled roof, it was drenched in Oriental flair. The poetic recital of a romantic tragedy could be heard, accompanied by the lonely wailing of a two-string instrument. From within, water flowed through bamboo pipes, and the chattering of individuals sounded as well, mere wisps of conversation. The grass tickled him as he approached, reaching into his bag to retrieve a full-face mask of a white fox.
The subtle aroma of tea could be heard as he passed through the open door, leading to a view of the garden. On either side was a mahogany walkway, framed by wooden pillars that were locked in place in a jigsaw-arrangement. No glue or nails were used in the Hall’s structure, only pieces that fit so snugly that it was wholly unnecessary. Servers, marked by their dark gray robes, glided past the customers who along the hallways. Occasionally, they would take an order or fill an empty tea cup, with a grace that was neither rigid nor suffocating. In the center of the garden, standing above a small bridge, was the singer of that day, a bird with a feathered mane and vivid topaz eyes. She was dressed in fiery, lively colors, green tassels adorning the end of her robes and golden sashes tied to show off her womanly figure.
Today was a good day to be here, wasn’t it?
Taking an empty seat that faced a rabbit, he relaxed his expression, now hidden by a mask, and spoke the words that began every conversation in that tea shop.
“How do you do?”
What a wondrous era they lived in.
Dressed in his usual attire of a loose-fitting white shirt and dark slacks, accompanied by sandles, the young man hefted his rucksack higher up on his shoulder as he greeted familiar faces. Though he still wasn’t on a first-name basis with the merchants that dominated the orderly streets of Chrysanthemum Avenue, he was slowly becoming more familiar with them, with the residents of the new home that he lived in. But today, he didn’t feel like getting lost in the crowd, watching people as they went on with their lives. Today, he was heading to a favorite place of his, to spend the day.
The Hall of Falling Leaves and Flowing Water.
At the far end of Chrysanthemum Avenue, after the crowds have dwindled out and the roads turned into a dirt path, there rested a single, elegant building. Square-shaped with a peaking, tiled roof, it was drenched in Oriental flair. The poetic recital of a romantic tragedy could be heard, accompanied by the lonely wailing of a two-string instrument. From within, water flowed through bamboo pipes, and the chattering of individuals sounded as well, mere wisps of conversation. The grass tickled him as he approached, reaching into his bag to retrieve a full-face mask of a white fox.
The subtle aroma of tea could be heard as he passed through the open door, leading to a view of the garden. On either side was a mahogany walkway, framed by wooden pillars that were locked in place in a jigsaw-arrangement. No glue or nails were used in the Hall’s structure, only pieces that fit so snugly that it was wholly unnecessary. Servers, marked by their dark gray robes, glided past the customers who along the hallways. Occasionally, they would take an order or fill an empty tea cup, with a grace that was neither rigid nor suffocating. In the center of the garden, standing above a small bridge, was the singer of that day, a bird with a feathered mane and vivid topaz eyes. She was dressed in fiery, lively colors, green tassels adorning the end of her robes and golden sashes tied to show off her womanly figure.
Today was a good day to be here, wasn’t it?
Taking an empty seat that faced a rabbit, he relaxed his expression, now hidden by a mask, and spoke the words that began every conversation in that tea shop.
“How do you do?”
Tokai University and Todai University are different universities altogether.
No...Todai University is the University of Tokyo. XD
But won't people still be making their 'first posts' in two days? It's not like the introductions will end that quickly...and I already finished my post, so...XD
© 2007-2026