*materializes out of thin air and dabs*
HokumPocus
Member
RATS WE'RE THE RATS WE ARE THE RATS
- Last Seen: 10 mos ago
- Joined: 7 yrs ago
- Posts: 591 (0.22 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- HokumPocus 7 yrs ago
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Latest 10 profile visitors:
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Most recent →
Carlyle,
Pezzle,
mickilennial
Status
Recent Statuses
7 yrs ago
Idea: Superhero rp but every superpower has to be a unnecessarily specific fetish taken from a 1x1 thread
16
likes
7 yrs ago
joining a roleplay can have the same stress of applying for a job except its better cause instead of bagging groceries you get to be a cute gay anime cat girl who goes to magic school
31
likes
7 yrs ago
*tackleglomps u and nuzzles* X3 *notices bulge in ur pants* OwO wats dis???
4
likes
7 yrs ago
does anybody in this thread smoke weed
12
likes
7 yrs ago
The thrill of doing seventy different code edits without saving and then not knowing whether your post looks cute or like an exploded cumbox
7
likes
Bio
YOU JUST GOT HIT BY
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▄██THE YAOI TANK███▅▄▃▂
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I like rats, jalapeño poppers, y2k aesthetics and idol games. I am pretty extroverted on the internet due to how easy it is to connect with people with similar interests. My personality may come across as aggressively friendly or over the top at times and I apologize in advance for that, whoops.
As for my strange signatures and profile pictures, a lot of them are a part of a specific aesthetic I´ve developed over the years that's basically 2000s aesthetics with a focus on the technology that explore themes of loss, abandonment, filth, and hopelessness, rather than the optimistic and mainstream view of the future that was common during that period of time.
TALK 2 ME!!!!
¶▅c●▄███████||▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅|█
▄██THE YAOI TANK███▅▄▃▂
█████████████████████►
◥☼▲⊙▲⊙▲⊙▲⊙▲⊙▲⊙▲⊙☼◤
I like rats, jalapeño poppers, y2k aesthetics and idol games. I am pretty extroverted on the internet due to how easy it is to connect with people with similar interests. My personality may come across as aggressively friendly or over the top at times and I apologize in advance for that, whoops.
As for my strange signatures and profile pictures, a lot of them are a part of a specific aesthetic I´ve developed over the years that's basically 2000s aesthetics with a focus on the technology that explore themes of loss, abandonment, filth, and hopelessness, rather than the optimistic and mainstream view of the future that was common during that period of time.
TALK 2 ME!!!!
Most Recent Posts
Tsubasa was genuinely surprised by Kazuto's reaction to her antics. She was certainly aware that her grown up skills weren´t the best, but to end up no better than she started? It was a huge mistake, one that would have to be fixed immediately. Her mind exploded in a fury of possible strategies and solutions to save face among her new roommate. If any of the adults in her life could peer into her brain, they'd be flabbergasted at just how much passion she had and how absolutely none of it was being funneled into studying. They'd probably also complain about whatever flavor of the month pop song was looping endlessly in her head, but that's besides the point.
"Eh, sorry Kazuto!" she said. Starting her sentences like this was a calculated move that had since grown out of control and rooted itself with the rest of her habits. Upon seeing her cousin on the finishing stages of getting ready she gobbled her last bits of breakfast and took off towards the bathroom. There was no way she´d let herself be the last one out.
Analyzing her face with the spirit of an idol critic solidified her concerns over appearances. A messy blob of hair, a crooked bow and collar, flaw after flaw was added to her to-do list. Anyone seeing her both now and until she was finished would have mistaken her for a regular girl out of the lack of accessories outside of a good luck bracelet.
Tsubasa´s past and frequent encounters with authority figures had made her compliant in the rules surrounding student uniforms, with the exception of her hair. A single ponytail, tied to the side of her head as a silent sign of defiance. It was a visually interesting hairstyle that was simultaneously normal enough to get away with. She took one last look at herself in the mirror before rushing to the entrance of their house, where Kazuto was no doubt already suited up and waiting for her. "Wait for me~!" she shouted.
In
Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
will fart out an ic post in a few days xoxoxo
Interested in joining 👀
In
Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Zakattacks Accepted, move it to the character section fam
In
Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Alright, ive now closed off interest from this point onward. Those who have expressed interest before this point still have a window of time where I can shove them in. have fun everypony UwU
In
Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Craig joined the fingertips of his hands together in a gesture that he must have thought made him look cool and not like a stock anime villain. Most of the people who had expressed interest in joining his… questionable manual debut had turned up on time, bringing with them plenty of snacks and a surplus of creativity to make up for his lack of it. The various greetings that he received were met with an enthusiastic grunt, as Craig was too busy viciously eyeing his friend´s sandwiches. He stacked two of them on the map he was using, right next to a condensing bottle of soda. Any seasoned player would have cringed at the sight, but it was hidden behind his dungeon master screen.
One by one the character sheets rolled in, and one by one he accepted them without thinking too hard about it.
"Milon? Alright, heh heh..."
The rest of the sheets were accepted through what linguists refer to as "sandwich speak", a scientific term used for those attempting to formulate words and sentences with a sandwich in their mouth. A team of experts have provided a translation for Craig´s words below, with special care taken to be as accurate as possible. His response to Jacob had unfortunately been classified as "completely incoherent" and left to the reader´s imagination.
"Fairy chick? Fairy chick. Knight man? Knight man. Emo magician? Heh... emo!"
Craig was satisfied at his attempts at humor and went off typecasting all of the characters, as if by doing so he could skip having to pore over their sheets entirely. I already get this character, so there´s no point in continuing to read was his general opinion. Anyone unlucky enough to have written their character sheet on a notebook would soon receive the gift of orange fingerprints. Craig wasn´t going to get away with committing crimes anytime soon, no doubt. He continued this unfunny routine until reaching the last character and then stopped as he had exhausted all possible creativity from his limited brain cells.
"Machine guy?... Machine... guy!"
It was now time to begin the second phase of preparations. The armless parlor chair that once supported his large body shrieked as he dragged himself out. He walked around the room and began to undo all of the curtains, restricting the lighting to nothing other than the chandelier that hung above them. The large doors that served as the room´s only entrance were also locked, their ancient clunking threatening to trap everyone inside unless Craig handled them more delicately.
Even if the attendees were sure of the roleplay´s status as a total clusterfuck, it was tough not to feel the sudden change in atmosphere. Another sound took center stage, the sound of an Epic Fantasy Music 10 Hours Mix video being played through a smartphone. He was very noticeably out of breath from having done all of this. The room was large and he had childishly rejected any help, so it wasn´t irregular for him to be tired. His breaths, however, were very labored, and anyone who was used to his antics would immediately figure out that he was exaggerating them for dramatic effect. His eyes darted around the room in a desperate search peer approval and didn't stop until he had delusionally assumed to have received it. He clapped his hands with a sound that was damper than it had any right to be.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let us now begin this most epic adventure!” and as he said that, emphasizing the word epic, a rumble could be felt. Soft, ominous, present.
It was impossible to deny but possible to downplay. Maybe some weird foreign cheese had been placed in those sandwiches, maybe the music mix had included some obscure and offshoot metal genre, maybe a dozen other probable events happened. Those present had little time to reason before the second wave hit. Enormous, threatening, all-consuming.
The cabinets around them all came crashing down at once in a cacophony of broken glass and porcelain, their table trembled like a homicidal rocking chair, the chandelier threatened to fall and crush someone at any second. Nowhere was safe. Strangely though, the manual didn´t budge.
Not just that, but it began to float in the center of the room in a calm fashion. If assigning emotions to books were normal, then those trapped inside the room would definitely agree that it looked pretty indifferent as far as books went. Perhaps its next actions wouldn´t have been noted, however, as they struggled to survive the whole world crashing around them. It flipped its enormous pages before settling on a particular one, whose luxuriously colored images were impossible to make out with any reasonable level of clarity among the surrounding chaos. A light the color of the sun engulfed the room, setting everything ablaze.
A vague sensation of being fizzled away. Not painful, but bizarre. Nothing but a golden light. Nothing.
Something. More things. More colors. Muddled browns, dark and earthy tones. Voices nearby, steadily growing louder. They´re at a bar. No, a tavern? They´re seated on a round table made of wood. In fact, just about everything is wooden, maybe metal or stone. Their snacks were there too, as if pretending that nothing had happened.
This would have been a bewildering situation on its own, but things would soon take a turn for the (more) worse. Upon establishing eye contact it became apparent that everyone present was now the character that they had created. Everyone except Craig. He was gone.
One by one the character sheets rolled in, and one by one he accepted them without thinking too hard about it.
"Milon? Alright, heh heh..."
The rest of the sheets were accepted through what linguists refer to as "sandwich speak", a scientific term used for those attempting to formulate words and sentences with a sandwich in their mouth. A team of experts have provided a translation for Craig´s words below, with special care taken to be as accurate as possible. His response to Jacob had unfortunately been classified as "completely incoherent" and left to the reader´s imagination.
"Fairy chick? Fairy chick. Knight man? Knight man. Emo magician? Heh... emo!"
Craig was satisfied at his attempts at humor and went off typecasting all of the characters, as if by doing so he could skip having to pore over their sheets entirely. I already get this character, so there´s no point in continuing to read was his general opinion. Anyone unlucky enough to have written their character sheet on a notebook would soon receive the gift of orange fingerprints. Craig wasn´t going to get away with committing crimes anytime soon, no doubt. He continued this unfunny routine until reaching the last character and then stopped as he had exhausted all possible creativity from his limited brain cells.
"Machine guy?... Machine... guy!"
It was now time to begin the second phase of preparations. The armless parlor chair that once supported his large body shrieked as he dragged himself out. He walked around the room and began to undo all of the curtains, restricting the lighting to nothing other than the chandelier that hung above them. The large doors that served as the room´s only entrance were also locked, their ancient clunking threatening to trap everyone inside unless Craig handled them more delicately.
Even if the attendees were sure of the roleplay´s status as a total clusterfuck, it was tough not to feel the sudden change in atmosphere. Another sound took center stage, the sound of an Epic Fantasy Music 10 Hours Mix video being played through a smartphone. He was very noticeably out of breath from having done all of this. The room was large and he had childishly rejected any help, so it wasn´t irregular for him to be tired. His breaths, however, were very labored, and anyone who was used to his antics would immediately figure out that he was exaggerating them for dramatic effect. His eyes darted around the room in a desperate search peer approval and didn't stop until he had delusionally assumed to have received it. He clapped his hands with a sound that was damper than it had any right to be.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let us now begin this most epic adventure!” and as he said that, emphasizing the word epic, a rumble could be felt. Soft, ominous, present.
It was impossible to deny but possible to downplay. Maybe some weird foreign cheese had been placed in those sandwiches, maybe the music mix had included some obscure and offshoot metal genre, maybe a dozen other probable events happened. Those present had little time to reason before the second wave hit. Enormous, threatening, all-consuming.
The cabinets around them all came crashing down at once in a cacophony of broken glass and porcelain, their table trembled like a homicidal rocking chair, the chandelier threatened to fall and crush someone at any second. Nowhere was safe. Strangely though, the manual didn´t budge.
Not just that, but it began to float in the center of the room in a calm fashion. If assigning emotions to books were normal, then those trapped inside the room would definitely agree that it looked pretty indifferent as far as books went. Perhaps its next actions wouldn´t have been noted, however, as they struggled to survive the whole world crashing around them. It flipped its enormous pages before settling on a particular one, whose luxuriously colored images were impossible to make out with any reasonable level of clarity among the surrounding chaos. A light the color of the sun engulfed the room, setting everything ablaze.
A vague sensation of being fizzled away. Not painful, but bizarre. Nothing but a golden light. Nothing.
Something. More things. More colors. Muddled browns, dark and earthy tones. Voices nearby, steadily growing louder. They´re at a bar. No, a tavern? They´re seated on a round table made of wood. In fact, just about everything is wooden, maybe metal or stone. Their snacks were there too, as if pretending that nothing had happened.
This would have been a bewildering situation on its own, but things would soon take a turn for the (more) worse. Upon establishing eye contact it became apparent that everyone present was now the character that they had created. Everyone except Craig. He was gone.
the men and women from our past talked of Armageddon, they talked about a final battle between good and evil. Golden trumpets, white horses, purging the unworthy through glory and whatnot. It wasn't like that.
through the twenty-first century, the Armageddon occurred and humanity was decimated to near extinction by God himself. What little has remained of mankind now dwells under the earth to avoid the sky and its now fatal light. Surreal, reality-defying angels hunt and kill all who resist judgement without mercy.
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