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T O · D A Y /təˈdā/
m a r c h 7
not really here right now. be back soon.

E X · I T /ˈeɡzət,ˈeksət/
a s t a t e o f b e i n g
a way out.

t i m e z o n e : UTC -8 PST 1 x 1 ? : FULL s t y l e : CASUAL/ADVANCED s p e e d : SLOW
Sterile Tech by day. Writer/gamer by night. 27 and getting old fast. Locked in a relationship of 6 years with a woman I definitely do not deserve. The last decade has been spent in books, at work, and lost in the infinite world that is fiction. Since my introduction to roleplay a lifetime ago, I've been stuck... addicted. Always thirsting to explore the worlds dreamed of strangers I've never met. Always ready to smudge my name in the page of someone else's story. I'm always here... mostly, and I don't think that'll ever change. I hold dear the ability to transport myself into another life and imagine the stories hidden there.

I'm far from the best writer in the guild. Frequently skip proofing. Constantly overlook the smaller details like missing letters or entire missing words. Sometimes I can't read and so respond with nonsense. But with interest comes passion and with passion, a willingness to push boundaries and explore the narrative from a different perspective. If that's what you're looking for, come find me.

My interests lie in almost anything excluding nation rps or AUs based off existing lore. I can do sci-fi, western, fantasy, dystopian, slice of life, romance, fandoms. My wheelhouse is group but I can 1x1 as well. To whom it may concern: I work a 9-5. I try to be free around 7. Also, don't trust that Online thing. I may or may not be at my computer.

S T O · R I E S /ˈstôrēs/
a s t a t e o f m i n d
projects present.

c h a r a c t e r s
W O L V E S and W I L D F L O W E R S 1 x 1
january 2018 - present. feat. khosmik
january 2018. rpgc#15: new beginnings contest entry.

P E O · P L E /ˈpēpəl/
a s t a t e o f g r a v i t y
family and friends.

since 2005. my 1x1 cherry popper. happy to have met you.

S O U N D /sound/
a s t a t e o f s i l e n c e

Most Recent Posts

So growing up, I had difficulty learning to swim. I never really achieved anything beyond the doggy paddle even with lessons and some guidance. There were a few times in my life where I'd nearly drowned for one reason or another so while I never actually had a fear of water, I had a fearful respect for it? If that makes any sense.

Anyways, my parents decided that because I'm obviously a water child, they'd enter me into a competitive swimming team. This team mind you takes this swim stuff a little too seriously. We had a coach with a name what was synonymous with water. Surge. Yeah. He was Russian or some such. Strict as hell, as are all the best teachers and mentors, and had a real swimmers body. Like muscles cut from stones and gorilla glued to his bones. The only way to tell his age without asking was to look at his face because those were the only muscles he never used.

Anyways, this guy. Day one he threw me in the water. Like I said I can't really swim so I doggy paddle from one side to the other. I can't even make it halfway before I start to flounder and grab the edge of the pool. Now this pool is 25 meters across. It's half the size of your Olympic pool also known as a "Short Course". I swam all of ten meters and I was out of breath.

Day two and it's more of the same. At this point they have me in my own section because I'm fucking holding up traffic. I'm the annoying old lady in the slow lane still going slower than you. I cannot go any faster and I cannot for the life of me make it to the other side without stopping to catch my breath.

Day three turns into day four and this cycle of near death by ice cold water continues. Once I can finally touch the other side I think I'm good. NOPE. Time to learn how to do somersaults in the water you stunt double you. Now do them without stopping midstroke and looking at the wall. Now do them on your back without any reference at all. (No, that tiny string with flags moving all of the fucking place in the wind doesn't count)

Now do this stupid stroke called the "butterfly" because normal people swim like this.

Competitions arrive and.. yeah... I come in last of course. It's 100 goddamn meters. Four laps and I can still barely make one. Every time I come out of the water, I'm physically dying and to make it worse, the next heat is already at the pool waiting for me to get out. And of course my time is being blasted into the crowd via giant billboard.

Like I said, I have issues leaning to swim so this cycle continues for four years.

My very last year during my very last race... I don't finish last. I finish 6 out of 7. For the first time when I exit the pool, my body doesn't feel like it's dying and I'm waiting on someone else.

Later that year I take a job as a lifeguard and a year after that, I ended up rescuing a kid who was unconscious at the bottom of a pool.
What is your earliest memory?
Banned for not drawing with her.
When I was in third grade, I accidentally left my retainer in my napkin during lunch and tossed the whole thing out with my food.

At the time I didn't understand how much that shit cost...

Later that day my parents dragged me back to school and my dad, my uncle and myself ended up jumping into the dumpster (it was about the size of a small bus) and started digging through dozens of bags of trash looking for something the size of my palm. Half an hour later, knee deep in half eaten food and piles of wet paper... stuff, my uncle by some fucking miracle found it.

The next day my mom shoved it back in my mouth. (She sterilized it)
Banned because you are a dinosaur.
When I was a kid it was Christmas. We did the whole thing. Wrote letters. Baked some cookies and put out some milk. The nights before were the longest of my life. I couldn't sleep and I was always first to wake up. I can still remember what it was like to rouse to the smell of pine and chilly morning air and stumble down stairs wrapped in my pajamas and blanket before everyone else. My parents (bless them) went out of the way to make sure that Santa was a real person. They had him "eating" the cookies and leaving his nasty finger prints all over our door knob (because our fire place was fake). He'd always leave the milk half empty (half full) and the cookies half eaten because he's probably had a couple billion by the time he got to us. They even went as far as building an entire fucking playground in our backyard while we were out. Told my siblings and I that Santa had come back after he finished delivering to build that shit. There were sleigh tracks and hoof tracks in the mud in our back yard and big ass foot prints cause Santa thick af. I clearly remember one night as a child being pissed because they got to pet Santa's reindeer and didn't wake me up. (ugh... I just wanted to touch Rudolf's fucking nose!)

Then around my early teens my parents finally told me Santa wasn't real. I was the last person to get up Christmas morning... and I was also the asshole that broke the good news to my little brother and sister.

Now that I'm older, Christmas sucks because I have to buy all of Santa's gifts and stay up to wrap and hide that shit; eat half his cookies and drink half his milk.

National Pizza Day is my new favorite holiday. Tied with National Pancake Day. Mm mm.

Did you have nightmares as a child? What did you dream off and do you still have those same nightmares? (Speaking strictly of those experienced while unconscious.)
@Life in Stasis One of the best novices. You're highly regarded at your school. School information is coming as well as city. Ultimately though these are just tools to help you build a history. If you'd rather you were trained by someone else outside a school that's fine as well... but you're still a novice at what you do.
Right here! I stated one to two weeks. This weekend being the second week so there's still a couple days to go.

Don't worry I haven't gone anywhere. Updates are forthcoming.
pen aisle
Po Tattoo
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