Avatar of Atrexiel
  • Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 70 (0.02 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Atrexiel 9 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

9 yrs ago
Current Brother with arms

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Exactly what I needed. Thank you. If they were superior without drawback, there would be no reason for my character not to be a cyborg. This pretty much finalizes my build, I'll post the CS soon.
Question: Are prosthetics advanced enough for them to be seen as superior to regular limbs?
Thanks!
Hello guys! I'll be joining you in this arc.
I'm interested.
In Breath 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
@oOWonderKinOo

I like it!

I'm really bad at judging most social subtleties, so let's get to the point - are you insecure about your writing or what? You constantly keep timid about it. I'm really not a scary person, so I don't get it.

You did well! You did it - own it!

I like Angie, wondering what you've got in store for her later.

I have an idea for a post. Expect something tomorrow.

In Breath 9 yrs ago Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
People were crying. His classmates - the ones he could see - were all wet. Everyone was yelling to such an extent that it felt like they were actively trying to be louder than the next guy. Everything was so crowded - cars, passengers, reporters, ambulances… - everything was trying to turf out something else. And as soon as he was out - all these people were trying to get up in his face. They were all uniformed and asking really silly questions. Who cared what day of the week it was?! And of course he knew his name - he was confused, not brain dead.

It would take these men a few full circles around him before providing some breathing room. On and on, they went at him with silly questions. At a certain point he even felt like a medieval beast - mobbed ‘till being put to the bonfire. He could stomach EMTs crowding him, but when people from the bus started flocking around him, his peace was completely broken. First were two guys that have sat in the same classes as him for the past few years - somehow they thought that this strange experience had brought them close enough for a hug. When Dennis recoiled from one of them, they staggered in their tracks, but then there was another fool to attempt yet another grief ritual. This one he even pushed away harshly enough to send them down to their ass. These were people who left him! Left him to drown! And now they wanted to sympathize? What, they would all sit around fires and sing kumbaya and shit? That was not going to happen. They deserved their guilt. The fact that he survived by some freak occurrence did not pardon their actions. He knew he would’ve done the same thing in their shoes. Fuck that guy from three rows back that kept complaining about the bus, save yourself! He was quite aware of his hypocritical point of view. It didn’t matter.

At least people were discouraged from making advances on him now. But then he saw Kent! That traitor left him - just like that. And to him he wasn’t some blip from three rows back . They were friends for as long as either could remember. He thought they were…
So why? He may have been an asshole at times, but he did not deserve this. No one deserved this.
His shallow self control was already breached so heavily that it took him less than a heartbeat to start pushing through the crowd. He was betrayed. Perhaps he should attempt drowning Kent too?! It wasn’t the first time he had these stupid hurtful thoughts, but they were usually banished by a mere shrug. This time he felt certain. Certain enough. Kent was tall, and he saw Dennis coming.

“Thank God!” Kent exhaled heavily “I thought you were dead!” and of course he did. That bastard all but made sure of it. “You left me” Dennis was still contemplating murder. His nerves were shot. “I’m sorry… I just… panicked” and even though he was man enough to admit to the fact, that didn’t exempt him from his actions. Dennis’ blood felt like boiling. And he swung for Kent, only to be elbowed aside by Price. Getting back his balance took more effort than it should and when he glanced back at his professor, the bastard seemed vaguely content about something. It was almost as he had sensed his student’s moment of anger and shrugged them aside. Dennis could no longer focus on being angry at Kent, because Price now bothered him too. He would… he would… he’d do something - but later. Later was good enough. It had to be.

Pushing his hands into his pockets, he found them to be dry enough. Which was strange when you took into account being submerged for as long as he’d been. Stranger still, there was a dry piece of paper in his pocket. It was a phone number he didn’t recognize, and when he pulled out his phone by reflex, he found that it was busted. Likely from the crash. When he finally turned it around, he found something that intrigued him.

Water does not hurt kin.
Then it hit him. The paper was completely dry. Only seven or eight people ever came close enough to him to plant something like that. And there was that lingering picture of Price and his daughter at the riverbed - at least he thought it was them. Looking around, he tried to see if anyone was looking his way and found too many people to be doing just so. That wouldn’t get him anywhere. He finally turned back to the two men, only to find Price missing. Kent seemed agitated - apparently he’d been apologizing this whole time. Dennis would have none of it though.

“Where’s Rachel?” and when a boulder-sized fist connected with Dennis' cheek, he knew he’d struck a nerve of some kind. “So you left her too…” and that shook Kent enough to recoil. Neither of them would forget this.
It's likely an evolution of taste buds into heartless bastards. When the need to have 20 waking hours arises, coffee answers. And the taste is actually what wakes me up for the most part at this point.
You're making me feel flushed! I should go read everything too.

Oh, and coffee. Wonderful idea.
@corneredbliss Never figured you for such a perv. And hey there.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet