Avatar of Sombrero
  • Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 547 (0.17 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Sombrero 9 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago
Dammit, smell! Why do you always lie about the taste of things!? Bread is never as good as you say it is! And vanilla extract tastes like petrified ass! PETRIFIED ASS!
3 likes
8 yrs ago
Using a phone on RPG. PROS: You can zoom in! CONS: fucking everything else!
11 likes
9 yrs ago
Glorious Math Teacher: "You know protractors, right? The rules we have for protractors are simple: Freshmen use these, don't put them in your mouth."
6 likes
9 yrs ago
Punching out Nazis and wrestling a yeti, sitting at home with some festive Spaghetti, rigging my boots up with high-power springs... These are a few of my favorite things!
9 likes
9 yrs ago
Still trying to figure out whether the Crusades qualify as actual wars, or a steaming hot mess of clusterfarkery best accompanied by the Benny Hill theme...
3 likes

Bio

I'm here, and I'm stuck in the middle with you.

Most Recent Posts

Certain portions of a fandom are cancerous. The content(TV show, game, etc) which the fandom is surrounded by itself might be good in my opinion, but there will always be those people who just ruin it with unnecessary politics, sickening artwork, and sadly-written fanfiction.

Can I stop this? No. It's just a personal qualm I have. If they're having fun doing it, then alright, but it's just not something I can get behind and enjoy whatsoever. Maybe for making fun of it, but otherwise . . . Nah.


Sturgeon's Law can apply to people, too. It can also compound on itself like a sick Sturgeonception. 90% of the people in the fandom aren't that great, then there's 90% of those that are just plain bad, and then you get this 30% of the entire fandom that's just heinously anus, which are the unironic My Immortal writers, The Chris-Chans, the Doxxers, DDOSers and Death-Threateners, and the people who write Jazz Flute + Bagpipe + Daxophone covers of the original theme songs that they wrote for webcomics. (Not even anectdotal proof that the last one exists, or that such a thing wouldn't be even a little awesome, but it's the thought that counts.)


But... But... Pikachu is right there... Why is he jacking it when his pet is right next to him!? Does he even know that pikachu is there? Does he not realize the horrifying implications!? I mean, hell, I usually kill any bugs on the wall first as a mere courtesy measure, I sure as hell wouldn't keep my pet in the room with me. We'd never be able to make eye contact again!
I think it is. I can't get on with enough free time in order to post frequently.
<Snipped quote by Frengo>
EDIT: I actually want to make a roleplay in which players play dinosaurs duking it out in a magical, primeval world one day.


"I saw one of Craster's daughters give birth to a boy. I saw 'em leave it out in the woods... An' then I saw what took it..."

"You mean you saw one of them?"

"Yeah, fuckin' dragons!"

"Wait, dragons?"

"Yeah. I don't know how the fuck a lizard survives out in the cold. Must be why they're tryin' to come over the wall."

...Dammit, now I want to write the whole thing and send it to George just to piss him off...
@Shorticusbut proof can be seen in how popular a book like 50 shades of grey was, a story about a girl's sexual desires.


A girl's? This could be the Twilight victim in me speaking, but the premise seems far more like something an upper-class 50-year-old woman would crank out in her large amounts of free time.
@Eviledd1984

The woman looks more worried than anything, "Who are you talking to? Why would you want to go into the fire?"

@HHHippo

"Oh, yeah. I got weapons." The man says, walking around behind a raised flowerbed and picking some items up.

He holds a tarnished, brown-metal gun up indicatively. It appears to be a long-barreled trophy rifle, with circular sights and everything, but put together from bits and pieces of metal and fine-tuned by hand, then takes out two vaguely golden shells, which look to be rather more like small sculptures than large bullets.

"This is the Sleeper." The man says, "Seems to be pretty standard fare for a gunsmith in a cave in some other part of this multiverse. He spends all his time making guns and bullets and ranting about bringing peace to defiant souls or some shit. In my experience, one of his shots fired out of one of his guns can take down just about anything, although they'll take a lot longer to die if you don't hit anything vital, but they definitely will die from the gunshot... Needless to say, this one'll probably cost quite a bit more."

He points the gun down, puts the bullets in his pocket, and leans on it as he bends down to pick up a shovel. It's rather old, but the sides appear to have been diligently sharpened, as made apparent by the paint seeming scratched off along the edges. A rudimentary but very off-putting "angry face" has been spraypainted on the back, either by a very disturbed child or a mildly spastic adult. There's some blood in its "teeth" where someone or something was bludgeoned with it.

"One of the cults that war with each other out in the wastelands believe God blessed humanity with a magic shovel that gives the wielder berserker powers and scares away fire... This definitely isn't that shovel, if it exists, it's one of the war-shovels that their priests use. I'm sure you could really fuck someone up with it anyway."

Hands full, the sound of metal rattling over a stone can be heard as he kicks a thick metal hook along the floor in Nicholas' direction. It's covered in small indents, as if it were forged on an anvil.

"And lastly, the good ol' crowbar. For fighting, scavenging, and getting in and out of places other people don't want you to."

He smiled a showman's smile, acting as his own impromptu weapons display, but his smile faded as he got back on track and remembered that his customer asked another question.

"As far as how and why you're here, I have no idea. I wouldn't doubt there's a planeswalker around here who wanted to build a hotel on this hotspot with some ulterior motives. I mean, they could've rebuilt the hotel to contain the... Anomalies, but I'm not sure that's the deal. Or even if anyone owns this... Sometimes anomalies make just enough sense to make a building appear, create jobs, and invite people over. That's just unusual, though. And I'm sure you can leave, if you get the limo to drive you back, but this building and the surrounding property is the most stable area around, in the sense that there are actual consistent rules to travelling around. You'll almost always end up here if you cloud up your mind in your room, and almost always end up in a certain other place if you do it in somebody else's room. But if you get out in the woods, or take a boat too far out on the water, there's no telling where you'll go, or how to get back."
You're all wrong. The most important part of being STALKER is to be able to say a somber, post-apocalypse tale in poorly broken English. It is also very high importantly to be names after a profession that matches your thinking methods and personalities.
I'm still interested, jst need to redo the backstory and family I lost over low battery.
@Eviledd1984

The letter seems fairly new, and it's written in that same bloody typewriter font.
"TRUE DISCIPLES OF CAERBOG MAY WALK AMONG THE FLAMES. CHOOSE WISELY."
Should he look back at the corpse, he would find it to be gone, leaving little more than a black, ashy shadow on the ground.
@HHHippo

The man shrugged and laughed, "The worst kind, mostly. It depends what's on your mind the first time you come here. The most you can do is be prepared for anything."

@Eviledd1984

There was nothing but the bucket the woman was holding, still scooping water out of a passing stream and not doing much good.

A note lay in the fingers of a charred corpse, its feet still completely intact, probably due to the fact that they're submerged in the water.

@DJAtomika

"Hotel?... This hasn't been a hotel for hundreds of years!" The man said, incredulously, "Not ever since the Rotters invaded!"
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