Avatar of HokumPocus

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

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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!!!!

Most Recent Posts

:: the streets of thorinn // thorinn ::

If trying to process what the word otaku meant was like trying to catch a dodgeball, then Tessa's speech was like trying to juggle a barrage of them. In the precious moments Alex had to recall what tanks, kits, supports, and dee pee esses were, the phrase "heal bitch" dealt the blow needed to derail his thoughts completely. Lucky for him, all she was asking for was his class.

"I'm a DPS," he declared, jutting a thumb near his chest. His words were enthusiastic, but there was a stilted inflection to them, as if he was giving a presentation over a subject he was only vaguely familiar with. "My powers let me do a lot of damage to one enemy at a time, and I get a lot better at doing it if I can focus. When I fight solo though, I usually just run away a lot, which is kind of like my second big power. Speed, I mean. And about healing. I can really only heal myself, and there's a limit to it." He tended to lump the rest of his abilities together, as they were mostly out of the way or "passive" as he'd heard some people call them. He kept quiet about them, since it seemed like the kind of thing that would only be worthwhile sharing if it a situation for it ever came up, or he got bored during a job.

He took a step back, eyeing Eaudenil with a smile and poorly disguised relief.


Roan scanned the vicinity with an almost eerie determination, trying to gauge the appearance of the rest of the officers in comparison to his. Judging by their coordinated and well put together clothes made it easy to infer most came from nations with temperate climates similar to this one. Most were lost in their thoughts or engaged in small talk that was interesting enough to distract them for the time being, but a handful of the more nervous students spared a glance back. He was so invested in trying to register everything that the speech had concluded by the time he was aware that one was being conducted in the first place. Old habits died hard.

He willed a small ember to hover above the palm of his hand. "Houses of fire and ice?" he muttered out loud. "I expect nothing less than the former."

He reassured himself mentally. This was a prestigious and above all competent academy, there was no way they'd make such a silly decision.

Until he remembered the nation he came from. The fire blinked out of existence.


Jarren inched towards the Wookie in the distance, his legs threatening to buckle under the burden of the man's full weight during the the initial effects of alcohol. The scene around him looked like a grimy kaleidoscope of alien life forms, the majority of wich were preoccupied with muttering amongst themselves or playing cards to pay the man any attention. The whole ordeal felt like wading through a swamp, not that he actually knew what that was like. Swamps were for the poor. He took a good look around him and tried not to think about if he currently qualified for that classification.

He stroked the outline of his head the same way a human might have brushed their hair to the side. He'd have to approach the merchant and grease him up good. Something soothing and gentle, the kind of pizzazz that let people know he was the sort of politician that kissed babies on the forehead. Or maybe a direct approach, something firm and brash, yet charismatic.

He used a human man's shoulder as a support. "Excuse me." He trudged onward without so much as making eye contact.

Jarren wanted to crack a smile at seeing the merchant, but it deflated before even being deployed halfway at the sight of a wookie and another human giving him a warning. His one shot at making easy credits that didn't involve actually having to perform physical activity, gone before his eyes. He picked up the pace, almost crashing into them.

"What gives, f-"

Furball.The word materialized in his mind, followed by memories of years worth of interspecies appreciation seminars, and the backlash that tended to happen to anyone caught getting handsy with a tentacle or creative with nicknames. He'd made close calls in the past with his career, ones that usually involved throwing credits at someone or bringing up their mortality enough for them to get the hint. But he was supposed to be making credits, not losing them, and a good eight tenths of the ship's vagrants looked like they could kick his ass, the walking carpet definitely included.

"..friend." A wide smile that had been on advertisements and interviews tightened around his face, as he snapped into a casual and friendly posture almost instantly. "Well, I'm glad we were all on the same page there. I could've sworn we were about to run into a murky situation."


Flash leapt through the air and slammed his hooves onto the ground over and over again, like raw lightning let loose on its surroundings. Though Lark's commands were picking up volume in correspondence with the pokemon's rambunctious movements, many of them had been out of the zebstrika's own volition.

In Lark's hands there was nothing but the darkness of a balled up fist. When it came to reigning in Flash there was no beauty nor predictability involved in the process. This wasn't the time to have a camera out, nor to devote anything less than all his concentration into battle.

The ponyta, though small in stature and undeniably harmless in its pastel-colored appearance, was no pushover. The two horses exchanged blow after blow, weaving in and out of each other's attacks and creating a light show of electric yellow and lavender. When at last Flash had risked it all and compromised his safety for a direct hit, another threat had made his head whip.

"Flash cannon!"

Lark cupped his hands and shouted. "Jink it!"

He dragged his splayed out hooves and tensed his body in a final gambit to escape the attack's trajectory. The beam of metal light shot out and clipped his haunches, Sending him into a tailspin of electrical energy. After what felt like an eternity, Flash shook himself off. He was angry.

Tarashima Forest
For the man who had just accepted the existence of magic and magical beings, the idea of a mystical threat called the Black King was too much to process. It was the same with being thrust into a land under threat of invasion. He'd lived a life too far from war or conflict of any sort to properly wrap his mind around his new reality. He was aware of his inexperience to an extent, but knew it was best to set it aside... until the conversation focused on the Black King.

With nothing of value to contribute and the looming dread that came with realizing one was in danger, he focused on replicating Ipharia's spell in silence. It felt harder this time, as if there was a resistance to it that prevented him from fully appreciating it. It was like understanding a foreign language yet knowing your tongue wasn't trained to echo the words back.

"Er-, I'm ready to learn, but I can't cast this one," he said, gazing at his outstretched hand. Did Hiroko and Honami's abilities have similar limits? Although his knowledge over games was admittedly lacking, he knew about leveling up. Kaito felt as if he’d get laughed at for saying that out loud, but then again, this world had already shown itself to be unpredictable.

He checked that his things were in order and began to follow Ipharia, picking bits of foliage that had gotten lodged between the pages. "I'm going to guess that no one in this settlement would know anything if we asked."



Dozens of burly men were gathered around a feast fit for royalty. Thick slabs of meat from all sorts of beasts were piled high atop their silver platters, dripping fat onto the ornate tapestries around the dining room table. One of them, Roan's father, rose from his chair with a large glass of wine held in an even larger hand. The motley of furs that covered his body rose with him, making him appear more beast than human for a few short moments. Roan's mind was elsewhere, incapable of perceiving anything but the man's bearded mouth opening and closing. It was only when a strong pat on the back hit Roan that he realized everyone present had turned their heads to him. He was being congratulated.

***

It had felt like an eternity since the day the academy had accepted him. Through a few hushed donations aided further by connections, but accepted nevertheless. Neither his brothers nor the rest of his family knew the truth, so the boy had paused every time an employee had politely asked about his background. He was relieved that the arrival was nearly over, at least.

Roan stepped out of his carriage, nearly forgetting to acknowledge the coachman's existence. He glazed over the walls of the academy and wrapped his arms around himself in a manner that didn't look comfortable. It was the least he could do to not feel so exposed with how thin his clothes felt. For Roan who had been accustomed to sleepless nights in cramped chambers, surrounded by hand-etched glyphs up to the ceiling, hands soiled with ink and desperate to write more, the gentle outskirts of the academy were alien to him. They had nothing in common either with the wintry plains of Kyavik, that demanded one bring a shovel and a rifle at the minimum.

"Indirect information. Instructions?" he muttered to himself. His eyes flickered towards a boy his age receiving directions.

Unfortunate. He had hoped their welcoming ceremony would be informal enough to allow him to explore the academy to the fullest extent of his desires. Roan expected no less from such a prestigious academy, however. He reasoned it was for the best to do as told for the time being.

On the surface, the deal he struck with his father seemed simple enough. The game piece known as Roan Borza would be relocated elsewhere so as to not drag the rest down, and as a result it would be spared from having to participate in the modern clan's battlefield, the gathering. He would use this opportunity to elevate his abilities in the refined and complex art of magic, and thus function as a sort of ornament for the rest to gawk at and admire. There were other implications, however. Having a skilled magician in the family had its uses if the relations between clans ever soured to the point of violence. It didn't surprise him that his father thought that far ahead. Sacrificing a game piece of lesser value to spare the rest was too obvious of a strategy.

He clicked his tongue. Even multiple nation's worth of distance couldn't keep him from thinking about politics again. He'd just have to approach his new life a single step at a time. As he entered the dining hall his father's advice rang crystal clear in his mind. Study well, be a warrior. No fires.
If you don't... we'll have to make some erp logs right now

:: the streets of thorinn // thorinn ::

A couple of Rael's words whizzed past his head, but he got the gist of it. He had the bad habit of assuming most people on the internet were American, so it came as a mild surprise to remember that this wasn't the case with her. Otaku was a Japanese word, one that meant...

Um...

"Dreams, huh. Makes it sound like a pretty big deal." A pang of guilt hit him. The only reason he'd been able to play was because of his brother bending the rules at work. He knew Logan's friends pretty well from when they'd come over, shouting at the same game screen or gearing up to do the same at a LARP in real life. They'd all probably kill to get the chance to take part in something like this.

The feeling didn't last too long. An experience people used to only dream of kind of lost its bragging rights when death got involved.

"Trying to survive in a dream world with people from every part of the world. History books are gonna have fun with this," he chuckled.


Unknown Forest
Ipharia's remarks made Kaito's brows furrow. In a world where magic was commonplace and monsters roamed wild, they three were the strange ones. It was the world that was normal, and them the anomaly. He didn't even want to start thinking about the implications that had on their wellbeing. Would the people of this world treat outsiders with an outstretched hand like Ipharia? Or would they see them as a threat of some sort, the way a human on earth would react to an alien crash-landing on their planet? Not even Ipharia knew how they were able to adapt so quickly to their surroundings.

"Now that I think about it, it does make more sense for us to be what's odd instead of the other way around. This could lead to trouble later on. Would it even be safe to tell the truth if someone asks where we're from, or our learning power?"

Images of bland fantasy barbarians clad in weapons, scowls and armor ran across his mind, sending a small shiver down his spine. "Learning any of those universal spells you mention would be appreciated." He just hoped Hiroko was wrong in comparing magic to computer science. Numbers had never been his strong suit.
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