Broke: Luke x Oswald Fujos
Woke: Luke x Jericho Fujos
Bespoke: Jericho x Heinrich Gault, the Golden King of Atlesian Heroes
Woke: Luke x Jericho Fujos
Bespoke: Jericho x Heinrich Gault, the Golden King of Atlesian Heroes
HereComesTheSnow Member
dehydration expert
STATUS: all i've been trying to say is that Ethical Corruption has never been tried before you don't need to yell at me 19 days ago
- Last Seen: 8 hrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 4029 (0.93 / day)
- VMs: 4
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- HereComesTheSnow 12 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses
19 days ago
Current
all i've been trying to say is that Ethical Corruption has never been tried before you don't need to yell at me
1
like
2 mos ago
Just ran a stale yellow. Nobody on this website is doing it like me, sticking it to the man like me, blazing a trail against tyranny like me. the only thing revolutionary about you is your rhetoric
3
likes
3 mos ago
Takeru Segawa is the type of man they made myths out of. Intensely privileged to be able to say I watched him burn so bright as he did before going out with a win. I’ll miss you, hero.
4 mos ago
a frayed thread on the colorful tapestry of our existence, begging to be yanked until the whole thing unravels, a suggestive, inviting golden glow around the idea of leaking my buddy's DMs to his wife
6
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5 mos ago
I'm like the "conspicuously modded with multiple trojan backdoors skyrim save on your friend's screenshare stream" of white boys
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Bio
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Most Recent Posts
.....I want to say many lewd things, but I'm worried I'll get beat down.
The next step in the plan is to eat Lube's food!
Also, to call him Lube in front of his sisters BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA
You will die.
Well, you've gotten into Crystal Castles! What's the next step or your master plan?!
Was sleeping on the couch part of your plan?
I'm not sure the Pressmans have enough space for a big guy....
Beacon falls in S3 and drives everyone back to their homes or homes away from homes
@FlitterFaux
Luke Schwarz
I was extremely successful.
Moreso than I usually even dared to imagine. In my attempt to shatter that metaphorical mask, I had S-ranked the challenge so hard that the literal one covering her face came off.
My eyes, just fractionally, widened at the result.
A face so gaunt it almost looked like a skull.
White eyes sunken and ringed, practically pits filled with the color of quartz.
Skin so pale it was like sheet— If not translucent.
She looked like hell.
Oh, geeze...
I was in for something really rough— But that was alright.
Now even moreso than before, I could tell that she would need it.
To unload before the fraying gave out completely.
"Yeah, I know a park on the way. We can stop there."
I turned myself forward again, sparing her a glance—
It was striking how small she looked, despite just about towering over me.
I started off, saying nothing for a while. It tracked, judging from how disheveled her entire existence looked, that I was rushing headfirst into something that left miles of trauma and regret. Therefore, it'd be pointless, and actually counterintuitive of me to try and initiate small talk. As we walked, jogged, and sometimes even ran, I only offered a few words of advice and explanation regarding our surroundings— tips about metropolitan living, mostly. How not to get lost again.
I'm a mountain boy who comes from a small town, sure, but it was a small town that had exploded enough after the war to gain a bit of an urban area of its own— Not that it held a candle to Vale, but it meant that I knew, even hailing from what was effectively the boonies, these things better than you would think.
Other than that, though, I didn't press or pry. We wouldn't talk until we reached the park and some isolation— I had a hunch that she had a whole a lot of thoughts to collect on the matter.
I wondered if I wasn't making a mistake somehow, at points; diving all the way into the problems of a complete stranger was insanity by any measure—
But I suppose I've never been sane, if that were the case. Even back when I was just a kid, I was an anti-bully ranger who never thought before he acted.
I saw someone in front of me that I wanted to help.
That was all it took. I put on airs of consideration way too much, honestly. I've always simply followed my desires when it came to this—
No more.
No less.
I would rush headlong into whatever I wanted if it had somebody to save within—
For better, or for worse.
Luke Schwarz
I was extremely successful.
Moreso than I usually even dared to imagine. In my attempt to shatter that metaphorical mask, I had S-ranked the challenge so hard that the literal one covering her face came off.
My eyes, just fractionally, widened at the result.
A face so gaunt it almost looked like a skull.
White eyes sunken and ringed, practically pits filled with the color of quartz.
Skin so pale it was like sheet— If not translucent.
She looked like hell.
Oh, geeze...
I was in for something really rough— But that was alright.
Now even moreso than before, I could tell that she would need it.
To unload before the fraying gave out completely.
"Yeah, I know a park on the way. We can stop there."
I turned myself forward again, sparing her a glance—
It was striking how small she looked, despite just about towering over me.
I started off, saying nothing for a while. It tracked, judging from how disheveled her entire existence looked, that I was rushing headfirst into something that left miles of trauma and regret. Therefore, it'd be pointless, and actually counterintuitive of me to try and initiate small talk. As we walked, jogged, and sometimes even ran, I only offered a few words of advice and explanation regarding our surroundings— tips about metropolitan living, mostly. How not to get lost again.
I'm a mountain boy who comes from a small town, sure, but it was a small town that had exploded enough after the war to gain a bit of an urban area of its own— Not that it held a candle to Vale, but it meant that I knew, even hailing from what was effectively the boonies, these things better than you would think.
Other than that, though, I didn't press or pry. We wouldn't talk until we reached the park and some isolation— I had a hunch that she had a whole a lot of thoughts to collect on the matter.
I wondered if I wasn't making a mistake somehow, at points; diving all the way into the problems of a complete stranger was insanity by any measure—
But I suppose I've never been sane, if that were the case. Even back when I was just a kid, I was an anti-bully ranger who never thought before he acted.
I saw someone in front of me that I wanted to help.
That was all it took. I put on airs of consideration way too much, honestly. I've always simply followed my desires when it came to this—
No more.
No less.
I would rush headlong into whatever I wanted if it had somebody to save within—
For better, or for worse.
Cap's got this
@FlitterFaux
...
She was crying.
I couldn't see the tears behind the mask, nor could I tell from any inelegant blubbering that Skye had failed to hold back, but she was definitely crying.
The hitch in her shoulders. The warble in her tone. I may miss a lot of things—
"Skye."
I turned my head back to her, looking over my shoulder to stare at the mask that had begun looking more and more like a shield. I regarded it coolly for a moment, trying to think of what to say—
And the words that came were undoubtedly incorrect. The correct, polite thing to do would have been placation, a gentle and patient thing that reassured her. But it also tiptoed around the issue. It would be a simple, pithy statement that ignored the roaring undercurrent to what she'd been telling me. If I were a better linguist or wordsmith, I maybe could have dropped in some subtle hints that would have addressed it—
But I'm not. In fact, subtleties are bluntly lost on me.
So instead of being polite and socially correct, which wasn't an option.
Instead of placating her.
Instead of holding back.
I went the opposite direction. I let her have it. I went whole-hog and decided I would force my way through that shield instead of pry it off.
Not an open hand. A closed fist.
Brandishing the plain truth— No, this was wielding it.
The undisguised truth. Whether it was my true feelings or the universal truth of the matter, I couldn't say that it mattered at all to me in this moment. For all I was concerned, the two were one and the same—
So I told her as much, straight to her face.
"You've been saying a lot of stupid things ever since we've met."
My words were, once again, harsh. But this time there was a meaning to them beyond a tired and played out comedy routine.
"In fact, you've been saying them so much that it's been bugging the hell out of me. You can apologize all you want, but I'm not gonna let them slide any longer."
Harsh, but all true. They said the truth hurts— and it's easy to see why. Hurled at a girl who's practically in tears before you, it's a heartless, monstrous thing.
Even if it needs saying, it's certainly hurting me to play this role.
I'm not Gratia Mindaro. I'll never have her sangfroid composure. I don't now, and I certainly didn't then. She bowled straight through to those truths without worry for whatever she walked over to get there— I couldn't do that every single time like her.
But it didn't mean that I was entirely incapable of addressing the heart of an issue.
Especially not one that I couldn't stand any longer.
"Every other word out of your mouth is you taking shots at yourself. That's really stupid. Is your end goal to make me hate you, or something? You keep trying to convince me you're terrible, for some reason."
Harsh. Incorrect.
True, and what I thought was right.
What I wanted to do, regardless of any of these.
"And this goes way beyond not sleeping well, too, so you can't excuse it with that, either. Not a chance in hell you can. I'm dumb, not blind. Nobody's this depressive or self-defeating over a couple of hours tossing and turning, I can guarantee that it takes something way more. Something infinitely worse than a few bad nights and being a stranger in a strange place."
I know that for sure.
Far more surely than anyone else you could have come across.
Sorry, Skye. You got the worst matchup possible right out of the gate.
"So, I'd really rather it if you just told me..."
'You can never be sure of how long you have.'
My eyes tightened.
'Every moment is precious.'
Yeah.
'All it takes is one moment...'
And then it's gone forever.
"What happened?"
You failed someone, didn't you?
At least, you think you did.
Whether or not it's your fault— That's not the question, is it?
Even if it's not, you'll never shake the idea that it was.
That you could have done more and saved what you didn't.
"Please, just tell me what's actually eating you alive, alright?" Even I could feel that there wasn't any humor or happiness in the smile I was showing her— But there didn't need to be. Just as what she was doing was plain as day to me, I bet that I could make it plain as day to her—
"I'd really rather worry about that. Not about some dumb stroll or the millionth promise to my sisters I break. I'm a lousy older brother, that'll never change—"
—But I've only once broken a promise to myself.
I get it.
I really get it.
So save us all some trouble, and save yourself from the demon inside your head. Save yourself from eternally wallowing in misery and never letting yourself see the sun. Save yourself from being imprisoned by chains of your own making.
I know it's heavy.
I know that crushing feeling— Viscerally so.
Let me bear some of that weight for you. I can take it, you know? I've done this for four years. I'm more used to it than anyone has any right to be.
Than you should ever have to be.
Tanner likes to tell me that people get saved only by themselves, and that others can only help or lend their strength—
So I can't be the one to save you, but I'm here to help.
To lend the strength of experience with this kind of weight. It's not a bother at all, if I can help you as I was helped not even a year ago.
Nobody needs to be where I was, and nobody needs to be where you are.
You're a person in need, Skye. Let me help you a little.
I'm a Huntsman.
"So you can tell me. It'll be the smartest thing you've said all day."
That's what we do.
...
She was crying.
I couldn't see the tears behind the mask, nor could I tell from any inelegant blubbering that Skye had failed to hold back, but she was definitely crying.
The hitch in her shoulders. The warble in her tone. I may miss a lot of things—
But even I don't miss when I've made someone cry.
"Skye."
I turned my head back to her, looking over my shoulder to stare at the mask that had begun looking more and more like a shield. I regarded it coolly for a moment, trying to think of what to say—
And the words that came were undoubtedly incorrect. The correct, polite thing to do would have been placation, a gentle and patient thing that reassured her. But it also tiptoed around the issue. It would be a simple, pithy statement that ignored the roaring undercurrent to what she'd been telling me. If I were a better linguist or wordsmith, I maybe could have dropped in some subtle hints that would have addressed it—
But I'm not. In fact, subtleties are bluntly lost on me.
So instead of being polite and socially correct, which wasn't an option.
Instead of placating her.
Instead of holding back.
I went the opposite direction. I let her have it. I went whole-hog and decided I would force my way through that shield instead of pry it off.
Not an open hand. A closed fist.
Brandishing the plain truth— No, this was wielding it.
The undisguised truth. Whether it was my true feelings or the universal truth of the matter, I couldn't say that it mattered at all to me in this moment. For all I was concerned, the two were one and the same—
So I told her as much, straight to her face.
"You've been saying a lot of stupid things ever since we've met."
My words were, once again, harsh. But this time there was a meaning to them beyond a tired and played out comedy routine.
"In fact, you've been saying them so much that it's been bugging the hell out of me. You can apologize all you want, but I'm not gonna let them slide any longer."
Harsh, but all true. They said the truth hurts— and it's easy to see why. Hurled at a girl who's practically in tears before you, it's a heartless, monstrous thing.
Even if it needs saying, it's certainly hurting me to play this role.
I'm not Gratia Mindaro. I'll never have her sangfroid composure. I don't now, and I certainly didn't then. She bowled straight through to those truths without worry for whatever she walked over to get there— I couldn't do that every single time like her.
But it didn't mean that I was entirely incapable of addressing the heart of an issue.
Especially not one that I couldn't stand any longer.
"Every other word out of your mouth is you taking shots at yourself. That's really stupid. Is your end goal to make me hate you, or something? You keep trying to convince me you're terrible, for some reason."
Harsh. Incorrect.
True, and what I thought was right.
What I wanted to do, regardless of any of these.
"And this goes way beyond not sleeping well, too, so you can't excuse it with that, either. Not a chance in hell you can. I'm dumb, not blind. Nobody's this depressive or self-defeating over a couple of hours tossing and turning, I can guarantee that it takes something way more. Something infinitely worse than a few bad nights and being a stranger in a strange place."
I know that for sure.
Far more surely than anyone else you could have come across.
Sorry, Skye. You got the worst matchup possible right out of the gate.
"So, I'd really rather it if you just told me..."
'You can never be sure of how long you have.'
My eyes tightened.
'Every moment is precious.'
Yeah.
'All it takes is one moment...'
And then it's gone forever.
"What happened?"
You failed someone, didn't you?
At least, you think you did.
Whether or not it's your fault— That's not the question, is it?
Even if it's not, you'll never shake the idea that it was.
That you could have done more and saved what you didn't.
"Please, just tell me what's actually eating you alive, alright?" Even I could feel that there wasn't any humor or happiness in the smile I was showing her— But there didn't need to be. Just as what she was doing was plain as day to me, I bet that I could make it plain as day to her—
"I'd really rather worry about that. Not about some dumb stroll or the millionth promise to my sisters I break. I'm a lousy older brother, that'll never change—"
—But I've only once broken a promise to myself.
I get it.
I really get it.
So save us all some trouble, and save yourself from the demon inside your head. Save yourself from eternally wallowing in misery and never letting yourself see the sun. Save yourself from being imprisoned by chains of your own making.
I know it's heavy.
I know that crushing feeling— Viscerally so.
Let me bear some of that weight for you. I can take it, you know? I've done this for four years. I'm more used to it than anyone has any right to be.
Than you should ever have to be.
Tanner likes to tell me that people get saved only by themselves, and that others can only help or lend their strength—
So I can't be the one to save you, but I'm here to help.
To lend the strength of experience with this kind of weight. It's not a bother at all, if I can help you as I was helped not even a year ago.
Nobody needs to be where I was, and nobody needs to be where you are.
You're a person in need, Skye. Let me help you a little.
I'm a Huntsman.
"So you can tell me. It'll be the smartest thing you've said all day."
That's what we do.
@FlitterFaux
Lucas Schwarz
I don't look like a Hunter? What's a hunter look like to you, white? Is it because I'm Shiroyaman? Jap man can't be something besides a wageslave? Because my name means black?
......
Lauren, I don't think I can ever pull that card out of my hat and take it seriously, sorry. It doesn't work at all, no matter how much you teach me.
Still, though, it wasn't surprising to hear that I didn't look the part entirely much, with my decidedly pedestrian hoodie and khakis and aforementioned lack of weaponry. It was a bit disheartening, sure; but on the other side of the coin, I knew that it'd be foolhardy of me to expect to have even come close in these three weeks— ten months if you counted my preparatory torture of an extended cram session last semester and a half— of my neophyte Huntsman career...
No, even scratching the very surface of my Mother's ability was still entirely beyond me.
It would be a long time before I simply radiated power from my very being, like Mom.
"Well, it's funny you should mention that— Do you remember the loud girl in that cafe dressed in yellow?" I asked rhetorically, rubbing the strangely-empty feeling out of my wrists. "She's my little sister, and just this morning I actually passed of my weapons to her."
Handed down a hand-me-down. How appropriate, right?
"I'm working on something new right now, but it's a bit slapdash... Not to mention stuck in the conceptual stage. But, that'd be your reason why."
Believe me, I'm no good at all. In fact, I'm barely hanging in there with all my might. It's just a happy coincidence that I'm unarmed right now...
Well, that and the fact that Jericho Piper isn't actually the norm in terms of how Huntsmen are in our days off and on the town. From what I'd gathered from him regarding how things are in Mantle, his first run-in with the Valic idea of "gun control" was going to be... a bit of a culture shock.
Then again, so was Vale being somewhat grounded in Slice of Life as opposed to Cyberpunk Urban Fantasy...
"I said relax. Now— Six stories high, and a lot of windows. Flat landscape." I repeated the list back to myself, knocking each one off the list that failed to meet the required categories. Luckily, I hadn't needed to use Google-sensei just yet. I normally would be hopeless on this sort of thing, but I had made a point to get on the express line towards familiarizing myself with the hospitals of the City of Vale ever since Lauren expressed a desire to rope me into her usual hijinks.
I was pretty sure I knew which one she meant, then. Especially with it being in relatively open airspace, with few other discernible landmarks, the hospital in question had to be...
Well over 5 miles away. If not 10.
"That's a heck of a walk we're about to be going on... You're really lost, aren't you?"
It was a blunt way of putting it, and more than likely to send poor Skye into another salvo of entirely unnecessary self-denigration, but my straight man act was far too refined and reflexive for me to stop at this point.
If I'd known that this was going to be what I was getting into, I'd have brought my bike...
Of course, it would also be pretty awkward to ask a complete stranger to ride double.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Story of my life.
Lucas Schwarz
I don't look like a Hunter? What's a hunter look like to you, white? Is it because I'm Shiroyaman? Jap man can't be something besides a wageslave? Because my name means black?
......
Lauren, I don't think I can ever pull that card out of my hat and take it seriously, sorry. It doesn't work at all, no matter how much you teach me.
Still, though, it wasn't surprising to hear that I didn't look the part entirely much, with my decidedly pedestrian hoodie and khakis and aforementioned lack of weaponry. It was a bit disheartening, sure; but on the other side of the coin, I knew that it'd be foolhardy of me to expect to have even come close in these three weeks— ten months if you counted my preparatory torture of an extended cram session last semester and a half— of my neophyte Huntsman career...
No, even scratching the very surface of my Mother's ability was still entirely beyond me.
It would be a long time before I simply radiated power from my very being, like Mom.
"Well, it's funny you should mention that— Do you remember the loud girl in that cafe dressed in yellow?" I asked rhetorically, rubbing the strangely-empty feeling out of my wrists. "She's my little sister, and just this morning I actually passed of my weapons to her."
Handed down a hand-me-down. How appropriate, right?
"I'm working on something new right now, but it's a bit slapdash... Not to mention stuck in the conceptual stage. But, that'd be your reason why."
Believe me, I'm no good at all. In fact, I'm barely hanging in there with all my might. It's just a happy coincidence that I'm unarmed right now...
Well, that and the fact that Jericho Piper isn't actually the norm in terms of how Huntsmen are in our days off and on the town. From what I'd gathered from him regarding how things are in Mantle, his first run-in with the Valic idea of "gun control" was going to be... a bit of a culture shock.
Then again, so was Vale being somewhat grounded in Slice of Life as opposed to Cyberpunk Urban Fantasy...
"I said relax. Now— Six stories high, and a lot of windows. Flat landscape." I repeated the list back to myself, knocking each one off the list that failed to meet the required categories. Luckily, I hadn't needed to use Google-sensei just yet. I normally would be hopeless on this sort of thing, but I had made a point to get on the express line towards familiarizing myself with the hospitals of the City of Vale ever since Lauren expressed a desire to rope me into her usual hijinks.
I was pretty sure I knew which one she meant, then. Especially with it being in relatively open airspace, with few other discernible landmarks, the hospital in question had to be...
Well over 5 miles away. If not 10.
"That's a heck of a walk we're about to be going on... You're really lost, aren't you?"
It was a blunt way of putting it, and more than likely to send poor Skye into another salvo of entirely unnecessary self-denigration, but my straight man act was far too refined and reflexive for me to stop at this point.
If I'd known that this was going to be what I was getting into, I'd have brought my bike...
Of course, it would also be pretty awkward to ask a complete stranger to ride double.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Story of my life.
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