Nah! XD It just takes practice. ^___^ Also eh....I hope you're cool with Liz and Kyle having some sort of history. Nothing too major.
Flightless_Soul Member
Sir Kibble the Fearless
STATUS: I mean lake dwelling spirits gotta have a side-hustle, right? 3 mos ago
- Last Seen: 3 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1062 (0.25 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Flightless_Soul 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Ducksworth,
O O,
Nameless Hero,
Lunamaria Hawke,
Vlad Tepes,
Mas Bagus,
AuthorialTheory,
Stryder BC,
Eviora,
Obscene Symphony
Status
Recent Statuses
3 mos ago
Current
I mean lake dwelling spirits gotta have a side-hustle, right?
4
likes
5 yrs ago
@Potemking: I feel as though you may have a masochistic compulsion. I've broken many a controller over Soulsborne games.
5 yrs ago
*Has a feeling Jones reads too many romance novels*
1
like
5 yrs ago
Redguards are technically the Arabians of Tamriel, so wouldn't shouting "Haji" make more sense? No disrespect to my Muslim buddies out there, just sayin'.
5 yrs ago
[2] It can also be effective in subverting the person's expectations. Take for instance Spec Ops: The Line. Looks like a boring military shooter, but is actually a grim look into the horrors of war.
Bio
I'm a human, so there.
Most Recent Posts
Guh...what was this? The annual K-pop convention?
"Yeah...I'm gonna go. Laters." She gave a curt wave to the two transplants, stumbling to her feet and brushing off the leaves before shoving her hands in the pockets of her faded gray skinnies. If it wasn't for Mr. Sunshine (Henry) and the Drama Llama (Mina) badgering her this whole damn time, she could've finished her other cigarette, but now, there seemed no point. Flicking it away, she sighed shrugging her shoulders, the clip and clop of her lace up combat boots resounding against the rustling of the wind through the trees, all while the sun hid behind thick gray clouds billowing amidst a stark autumn sky. It was as she passed one of the entry ways to the school, she recognized a fleeting, familiar face from the corner of her eye.
Kyle was...well... he looked easier to hang out with to say the least. Judging from looks, he wasn't all rainbows and daisies and knew the tough, gritty side of life...similar to Liz...someone who didn't live in some fantasy. She only knew the muscle bound behemoth because a few weeks ago, he helped Liz out after some punk pulled a gun on her...of course...Liz was just trying to score more weed. Dude would've blown her head off if Kyle didn't step in and beat the shit out of him. She owed him for that...and for not ratting her out to the cops...or God forbid her foster douche Robert.
Somehow, she found her way over to Kyle and was standing beside him leaning against the concrete wall, not a single look towards him. "Hey..." She spoke in a monotone, demure hush. "I was eh...just gonna say thanks. Didn't know the dipshit was packing. And...thanks for not narking on me to my folks."
"Yeah...I'm gonna go. Laters." She gave a curt wave to the two transplants, stumbling to her feet and brushing off the leaves before shoving her hands in the pockets of her faded gray skinnies. If it wasn't for Mr. Sunshine (Henry) and the Drama Llama (Mina) badgering her this whole damn time, she could've finished her other cigarette, but now, there seemed no point. Flicking it away, she sighed shrugging her shoulders, the clip and clop of her lace up combat boots resounding against the rustling of the wind through the trees, all while the sun hid behind thick gray clouds billowing amidst a stark autumn sky. It was as she passed one of the entry ways to the school, she recognized a fleeting, familiar face from the corner of her eye.
Kyle was...well... he looked easier to hang out with to say the least. Judging from looks, he wasn't all rainbows and daisies and knew the tough, gritty side of life...similar to Liz...someone who didn't live in some fantasy. She only knew the muscle bound behemoth because a few weeks ago, he helped Liz out after some punk pulled a gun on her...of course...Liz was just trying to score more weed. Dude would've blown her head off if Kyle didn't step in and beat the shit out of him. She owed him for that...and for not ratting her out to the cops...or God forbid her foster douche Robert.
Somehow, she found her way over to Kyle and was standing beside him leaning against the concrete wall, not a single look towards him. "Hey..." She spoke in a monotone, demure hush. "I was eh...just gonna say thanks. Didn't know the dipshit was packing. And...thanks for not narking on me to my folks."
*slapped for double posting*
ACK! Anywho, there's the first IC post. I wanted to explain as well how these AR systems work. They're basically just computerized contact lenses inserted in both eyes and a small, undetectable earpiece that's embedded in the ear canal. Simple tech, but still pretty advanced...eh..if that makes sense. ^////^
ACK! Anywho, there's the first IC post. I wanted to explain as well how these AR systems work. They're basically just computerized contact lenses inserted in both eyes and a small, undetectable earpiece that's embedded in the ear canal. Simple tech, but still pretty advanced...eh..if that makes sense. ^////^
"Rise and shine Captain!"
Ugh...did they have to be fitted with those damn augmented reality systems?
Immediately, yet groggily, the woman with the ugly scar across her face was jarred awake by the booming, boisterous voice of their handler, Special Agent Johnathan Starker, Johnny Boy Evelyn had taken to calling him so cheekily, and much to his chagrin. She glanced about, bleary eyed for a moment from her rude awakening, allowing her vision to adjust with a few sporadic blinks of her ice blue eyes. She stretched and released from her lungs a rather...silent yawn, merely miming the action with just a breath of air exhaled, before shambling out of bed over to the stereo close by on the bookshelf, a small welcoming gift from the agency no less. Her finger pressed the on switch, and in a matter of seconds, the dismal hum of fluorescent lights was drowned in the mournful wails of Dimebag Darrel's enigmatic guitar playing and the soulful yet gritty voice of Phil Anselmo. The song, Hollow, it reminded her of those days, waking up to the burning sun glaring down upon her, the sting of sand and rocks being blown in her face by a shrill wind, the rumble of humvees and Stryker APCs past her tent, culminating with the distant patter of a firefight over the mountains...but...this wasn't Afghanistan. This was something different.
It seemed to be early, but since the facility was buried under the ground in God knows where, there was no way to tell what the exact time was, so it was imperative Evelyn hurriedly dress and gather her equipment before embarking. A sigh exhaled as she struck her pajamas, consisting only of an old faded Metallica: And Justice for All T, a few holes and tears here and there, and slipped on her black training bra, the gruff voice of Starker resumed in her ear overpowering her music, uncompromising in his emotional neutrality and precise in his pronunciation, though his well practiced American accent betraying a slight German inflection, "I trust you are well rested. Briefing on your first mission will be at O-Nine Hundred hours in the briefing room. Director Valentine will fill you in on the details. Assemble the rest of your team and rendezvous there. Dismissed."
Suddenly, the AR system kicked it into high gear after Starker's voice faded from earshot. In the lower left corner of Ev's vision, there appeared translucent, emerald colored digital numbers displaying the current temperature of the room, bone chilling at this point, and on the right, the current time. A flickering 3D mini-map also faded into view, a strand of light indicating the pathway towards the briefing room...as if Ev didn't know it already. She wasted no time getting dressed in the rest of her clothing, a black tank top and matching rip-stop cargos, along with her boots and her black M65 field jacket, then through the AR's earpiece, she contacted the rest of her squad, "Team, get your lazy asses up. Rendezvous at the briefing room in twenty mikes. Ev out."
Ugh...did they have to be fitted with those damn augmented reality systems?
Immediately, yet groggily, the woman with the ugly scar across her face was jarred awake by the booming, boisterous voice of their handler, Special Agent Johnathan Starker, Johnny Boy Evelyn had taken to calling him so cheekily, and much to his chagrin. She glanced about, bleary eyed for a moment from her rude awakening, allowing her vision to adjust with a few sporadic blinks of her ice blue eyes. She stretched and released from her lungs a rather...silent yawn, merely miming the action with just a breath of air exhaled, before shambling out of bed over to the stereo close by on the bookshelf, a small welcoming gift from the agency no less. Her finger pressed the on switch, and in a matter of seconds, the dismal hum of fluorescent lights was drowned in the mournful wails of Dimebag Darrel's enigmatic guitar playing and the soulful yet gritty voice of Phil Anselmo. The song, Hollow, it reminded her of those days, waking up to the burning sun glaring down upon her, the sting of sand and rocks being blown in her face by a shrill wind, the rumble of humvees and Stryker APCs past her tent, culminating with the distant patter of a firefight over the mountains...but...this wasn't Afghanistan. This was something different.
It seemed to be early, but since the facility was buried under the ground in God knows where, there was no way to tell what the exact time was, so it was imperative Evelyn hurriedly dress and gather her equipment before embarking. A sigh exhaled as she struck her pajamas, consisting only of an old faded Metallica: And Justice for All T, a few holes and tears here and there, and slipped on her black training bra, the gruff voice of Starker resumed in her ear overpowering her music, uncompromising in his emotional neutrality and precise in his pronunciation, though his well practiced American accent betraying a slight German inflection, "I trust you are well rested. Briefing on your first mission will be at O-Nine Hundred hours in the briefing room. Director Valentine will fill you in on the details. Assemble the rest of your team and rendezvous there. Dismissed."
Suddenly, the AR system kicked it into high gear after Starker's voice faded from earshot. In the lower left corner of Ev's vision, there appeared translucent, emerald colored digital numbers displaying the current temperature of the room, bone chilling at this point, and on the right, the current time. A flickering 3D mini-map also faded into view, a strand of light indicating the pathway towards the briefing room...as if Ev didn't know it already. She wasted no time getting dressed in the rest of her clothing, a black tank top and matching rip-stop cargos, along with her boots and her black M65 field jacket, then through the AR's earpiece, she contacted the rest of her squad, "Team, get your lazy asses up. Rendezvous at the briefing room in twenty mikes. Ev out."
@Vortex Meh. You'll get used to it. >o< Anyways, glad everyone's here now! Gonna get an IC up real soon...ish. XD
"If that bitch calls me Amy Lee one more time..."
When you said you were open, this isn't what I was thinking.
@LizLegend Haha! I'm sure you will... ^___^; *puts bomb squad on standby*
Let me be the first to say thanks for the awesome setup post! ;)
Can't wait to get started.
(Lol I'll be nice OOC because I'm not gonna be nice IC >;)
XD Oh nards! Don't know how to take that, but welcome! ^o^ I'll put up an IC post just as soon as everyone checks in.
By that time, she decided to shove her earbuds back in and flip on her MP3. Her music had switched over from the previous song to Mt. Washington by Local Natives, the soothing vocals and the rather ghostly acoustic guitar lulling her into a sense of serenity, a calming touch to her frazzled nerves...along with the bittersweet taste of her menthol cigarette she took yet another drag off before flicking away discarded ashes. "Just the usual." Bluntly she replied to Henry, still not getting the notion she didn't wished to be bothered in her only moment of peace. Either that, or Henry was just that damn persistent. Pretty much was the latter.
How was it he was so cheery, so optimistic? He had to be an alien. Only an alien wouldn't get the notion of personal space, yet Liz was too tired to even give a damn if he was leaning close to her. She sighed snuffing out her stubby cig on the ground and flicking it away off the tip of her fingers, still that distant glower to her eyes. "So....how's life?" Stupid question really.
How was it he was so cheery, so optimistic? He had to be an alien. Only an alien wouldn't get the notion of personal space, yet Liz was too tired to even give a damn if he was leaning close to her. She sighed snuffing out her stubby cig on the ground and flicking it away off the tip of her fingers, still that distant glower to her eyes. "So....how's life?" Stupid question really.
© 2007-2026