X Fiendfyre X
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This face was made for radio!
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Status
Recent Statuses
7 days ago
New Spiritbox album March 7th!
1
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3 mos ago
Whoever designed Hunt: Showdown's new UI can kiss the fattest part of my ass.
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5 mos ago
"I just want to say I'm a big fan of your work. The way you write dialog reminds readers it's really hard to write dialog."
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8 mos ago
When the status bar is civilised and sensible, it makes me uneasy.
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1 yr ago
I'll stick to heroin and laxatives, thank you very much.
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Bio
You can call me James, if you like. I live near Toronto, Canada (EST, UTC-5). I'm one of those weird nerds that also loves sports of all types (I'd better. It's literally my job to watch hockey, and it keeps me very busy.) I am also bilingual, so you may catch me speaking/swearing in Québec French.
My roleplay interests vary greatly: anime and video game fandoms; gritty, modern realism; maybe historical fiction; or fantastical tales of monsters and magic. I wouldn't say no to a clever combination of any of those! Interesting, multi-layered characters & intriguing, thought-out plots always catch my fancy... as do enthusiastic and involved partners. I do my best to respond every day, and I will always try to inform you of an extended absence.
I've been doing this twenty years. I was on the old guild, but I lost access to that email address and could not import it from the other site. You'd think the experience would improve my writing ability. The jury is still out on that one.
Go Leafs!
Out.
P.S.: Misusing affect and effect is a pet peeve of mine. Watch yourself! XD XD
My roleplay interests vary greatly: anime and video game fandoms; gritty, modern realism; maybe historical fiction; or fantastical tales of monsters and magic. I wouldn't say no to a clever combination of any of those! Interesting, multi-layered characters & intriguing, thought-out plots always catch my fancy... as do enthusiastic and involved partners. I do my best to respond every day, and I will always try to inform you of an extended absence.
I've been doing this twenty years. I was on the old guild, but I lost access to that email address and could not import it from the other site. You'd think the experience would improve my writing ability. The jury is still out on that one.
Go Leafs!
Out.
P.S.: Misusing affect and effect is a pet peeve of mine. Watch yourself! XD XD
Most Recent Posts
And that revolving door keeps spinning...
If you've ever wondered what my signature is from, wonder no more.
@1:15
@1:15
With his menial daily task quickly -- yet quite mysteriously-- finished, Stanley was sent here and there to assist the others with what they were doing. Before long, Stanley was sure the looks he was getting from his fellow mill workers were annoyed and to the point of being venomous. Some of them made offhanded comments about how he was looking to show all of them up, and Stanley was certain not all of them were joking. It didn't help that no matter where he went to help, the job was done quicker and more perfect than ever before. Each time, Stanley's work partner would look away do something else or speak with someone, and when they had turned back not seconds later the thing they had been working on was already done.
At current, Hod had decided to take Stanley aside and show him a thing or two about working the waterwheel down by the river. "It's tough work making sure these damned gears don't rust over, what with all the water splashing here and there," the miller was saying. "Pay attention, lad. You may very well be the next one doing this. I won't stay this young forever!" Master Wellman chortled again.
Stanley, who had been drifting through the day despite somehow maintaining the appearance of being hardworking, was too absorbed in his own thoughts. He had certainly developed some sort of brain injury from his fall the night before, he decided. His memories of work today were fleeting and jumbled. None of it was making any sense. As he mulled all of this over, he watched a strangely dressed woman hauling a basket make her way up the path to the mill. Once she had made her way level with the mill, she had stopped and begun staring. Her behaviour seemed so out of place, Stanley was certain she was a hallucination.
"Stan!" Hod called out again, a sliver of impatience present in his voice. He was not a man to keep waiting.
"Sorry, Master Wellman!" Stanley exclaimed, snapping his eyes over to Hod. Even that small of a quick movement made his stomach tumble and his eyes water. Putting a hand to his forehead, he pressed upon it as if that would dull the ache. "I just noticed someone over there; that's all. Do you think she needs any help? She's watching us." He was ready for Hod to retort that no one was there.
Hod squinted, looking over to where Stanley was pointing. He furrowed his brow and put a hand to his beard. "I think her name is Martha... Moriah... Maria! That's it. I suppose I should see what she's after." With that, Hod stomped past Stanley and went up the steps leading down to the river from the path. "God be with you, Miss Maria!" he called out as he walked, waving genially. "What brings you out here?"
Stanley looked past Hod as the miller went over to Maria, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into his brain. It came unbidden and for seemingly no reason. Something about this woman was rubbing him the wrong way. In fact, for the slightest of seconds they locked gazes, and Stanley felt the most intense chill run down and back up his spine. It caught his breath in his chest, causing him to lean against a nearby support beam. Quickly, he looked away, eyes wide and gasping for air.
At current, Hod had decided to take Stanley aside and show him a thing or two about working the waterwheel down by the river. "It's tough work making sure these damned gears don't rust over, what with all the water splashing here and there," the miller was saying. "Pay attention, lad. You may very well be the next one doing this. I won't stay this young forever!" Master Wellman chortled again.
Stanley, who had been drifting through the day despite somehow maintaining the appearance of being hardworking, was too absorbed in his own thoughts. He had certainly developed some sort of brain injury from his fall the night before, he decided. His memories of work today were fleeting and jumbled. None of it was making any sense. As he mulled all of this over, he watched a strangely dressed woman hauling a basket make her way up the path to the mill. Once she had made her way level with the mill, she had stopped and begun staring. Her behaviour seemed so out of place, Stanley was certain she was a hallucination.
"Stan!" Hod called out again, a sliver of impatience present in his voice. He was not a man to keep waiting.
"Sorry, Master Wellman!" Stanley exclaimed, snapping his eyes over to Hod. Even that small of a quick movement made his stomach tumble and his eyes water. Putting a hand to his forehead, he pressed upon it as if that would dull the ache. "I just noticed someone over there; that's all. Do you think she needs any help? She's watching us." He was ready for Hod to retort that no one was there.
Hod squinted, looking over to where Stanley was pointing. He furrowed his brow and put a hand to his beard. "I think her name is Martha... Moriah... Maria! That's it. I suppose I should see what she's after." With that, Hod stomped past Stanley and went up the steps leading down to the river from the path. "God be with you, Miss Maria!" he called out as he walked, waving genially. "What brings you out here?"
Stanley looked past Hod as the miller went over to Maria, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into his brain. It came unbidden and for seemingly no reason. Something about this woman was rubbing him the wrong way. In fact, for the slightest of seconds they locked gazes, and Stanley felt the most intense chill run down and back up his spine. It caught his breath in his chest, causing him to lean against a nearby support beam. Quickly, he looked away, eyes wide and gasping for air.
You say 'No more.'
I'm looking over my shoulder again.
The truth be told:
I see my name,
And it's written in red.
I'm looking over my shoulder again.
The truth be told:
I see my name,
And it's written in red.
The cacophony of the lumber mill was useful when it came to numbing your brain to the world outside of it. Between all of the sawing, slamming, and scraping, one usually had no time to be with their thoughts. That was especially useful to Stanley this morning, as he had no wish to waste a second's thought regarding the night before. However, even the noise and physically demanding tasks that came with his job were not proving to be enough of a distraction. The back of his skull ached incessantly, and his vision occasionally blurred. Getting out of bed this morning had taken every ounce of his will, and not all of that had to due with the pain in his head. If he'd had it his way, Stanley would have stayed home today to take stock of his senses. Unfortunately, the miller had been pushy with his returning to work only three days after Amelia's death. Missing a random day for a reason he couldn't explain would surely see him sacked.
Stanley's thickly calloused hands worked automatically over the log he was currently de-barking, moving a pristine, thick straightblade back and forth over a lengthy piece of lumber until it held nothing but a smooth surface on every side before moving on to the next one. As he worked, sporadic images from the night before swam across his vision. The church, the headstones, the cemetery hedge; it all just played on rewind. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not remember how he had managed to return to his house and reach his bed. That warm breeze was the talk of the town, and Stanley held the impossible assertation that it had everything to do with the strange event he had witnessed.
Amelia's face was fresh in his mind. Her lips were pale to the point of nearly matching her porcelain skin. Her thick black hair framed her round, flawless face like flimsy curtains. The gaze of her green eyes pierced his very soul. Stanley did not want to remember her like that. He wanted only memories of her smile or her laughter.
Then there was the way she had said his name. It set his teeth on edge.
Stanley
He heard it again, whispered in his ear as clear as day. It sent a vicious chill down his spine and caused him to jump with surprise, letting out a yelp that was audible even over the noise of industry. Snapping his head around to look behind him, Stanley saw nothing, naturally. And when he turned back to his work, he noticed with horror that he had torn a huge gouge out of the log he had been cleaning. Closing his eyes with resignation, he shook his head. He was losing his mind, it seemed... and now it was affecting his work.
"Stan!" came a shout from several feet away, down near the water wheel on the bank of the river. It was the unmistakably gruff and bellowing tone of the miller, Hod Wellman. "Alright there, lad! You look as if you've seen a ghost." The blonde, mustachioed miller chortled at his little joke as he mounted the wooden steps to approach where Stanley stood. He moved with grace one might not expect from such a massive figure, all of it surely muscle. The man had to be in his 50's, and yet he seemed more fit than half of Accrington.
"All's well, Master Hod!" Stanley reassured him, cursing the older man's ironic choice of words. Stanley raised a weathered hand as if to tell Hod not to bother approaching, coupled with a wry smirk. His acting couldn't erase the cold sweat upon his forehead or the way his heart throbbed in his chest. If Hod saw what he had done to this log, he might very well get the sack anyway.
Hod did not cease his approach, unfortunately. He came right up to Stanley, stopping before him and looking past him at his work. Immediately, Hod's face fell into one of disbelief. Stanley closed his eyes and let the air hiss from his noise, expecting the worst reproach imaginable.
"Well, would you look at that!" Hod exclaimed, his voice positively overflowing with mirth. Stanley's eyes snapped open in surprise and his mouth widened slightly. "You're moving at a cracking pace today, aren't ya, lad?" He reached down and pat Stanley's shoulder with enough force to buckle the younger man's knees. "Excellent! We'll make a decent miller of you after all, Master Humber. Excellent indeed!" He then went off, humming a tune to himself excitedly.
"But..." Stanley stammered awkwardly and confusedly, brow furrowed tightly. He watched Hod go for another moment, wondering if his head injury had caused him to abandon the last of his sense before looking back at the log he had been working.
The gouge within the wood he had dug out when his hand slipped was gone. He reached out and felt over it, noting that it seemed even smoother than possible. He looked to the right and left and saw that every other log on the line was smooth as well, including some he hadn't even got to yet. Who could have done that? He looked 'round and noted that everyone else seemed busy with their own tasks. No one could have come over here and de-barked everything so quickly. What on Earth was going on here? Had he lost time again? Or was he officially going mad?
Stanley's thickly calloused hands worked automatically over the log he was currently de-barking, moving a pristine, thick straightblade back and forth over a lengthy piece of lumber until it held nothing but a smooth surface on every side before moving on to the next one. As he worked, sporadic images from the night before swam across his vision. The church, the headstones, the cemetery hedge; it all just played on rewind. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not remember how he had managed to return to his house and reach his bed. That warm breeze was the talk of the town, and Stanley held the impossible assertation that it had everything to do with the strange event he had witnessed.
Amelia's face was fresh in his mind. Her lips were pale to the point of nearly matching her porcelain skin. Her thick black hair framed her round, flawless face like flimsy curtains. The gaze of her green eyes pierced his very soul. Stanley did not want to remember her like that. He wanted only memories of her smile or her laughter.
Then there was the way she had said his name. It set his teeth on edge.
Stanley
He heard it again, whispered in his ear as clear as day. It sent a vicious chill down his spine and caused him to jump with surprise, letting out a yelp that was audible even over the noise of industry. Snapping his head around to look behind him, Stanley saw nothing, naturally. And when he turned back to his work, he noticed with horror that he had torn a huge gouge out of the log he had been cleaning. Closing his eyes with resignation, he shook his head. He was losing his mind, it seemed... and now it was affecting his work.
"Stan!" came a shout from several feet away, down near the water wheel on the bank of the river. It was the unmistakably gruff and bellowing tone of the miller, Hod Wellman. "Alright there, lad! You look as if you've seen a ghost." The blonde, mustachioed miller chortled at his little joke as he mounted the wooden steps to approach where Stanley stood. He moved with grace one might not expect from such a massive figure, all of it surely muscle. The man had to be in his 50's, and yet he seemed more fit than half of Accrington.
"All's well, Master Hod!" Stanley reassured him, cursing the older man's ironic choice of words. Stanley raised a weathered hand as if to tell Hod not to bother approaching, coupled with a wry smirk. His acting couldn't erase the cold sweat upon his forehead or the way his heart throbbed in his chest. If Hod saw what he had done to this log, he might very well get the sack anyway.
Hod did not cease his approach, unfortunately. He came right up to Stanley, stopping before him and looking past him at his work. Immediately, Hod's face fell into one of disbelief. Stanley closed his eyes and let the air hiss from his noise, expecting the worst reproach imaginable.
"Well, would you look at that!" Hod exclaimed, his voice positively overflowing with mirth. Stanley's eyes snapped open in surprise and his mouth widened slightly. "You're moving at a cracking pace today, aren't ya, lad?" He reached down and pat Stanley's shoulder with enough force to buckle the younger man's knees. "Excellent! We'll make a decent miller of you after all, Master Humber. Excellent indeed!" He then went off, humming a tune to himself excitedly.
"But..." Stanley stammered awkwardly and confusedly, brow furrowed tightly. He watched Hod go for another moment, wondering if his head injury had caused him to abandon the last of his sense before looking back at the log he had been working.
The gouge within the wood he had dug out when his hand slipped was gone. He reached out and felt over it, noting that it seemed even smoother than possible. He looked to the right and left and saw that every other log on the line was smooth as well, including some he hadn't even got to yet. Who could have done that? He looked 'round and noted that everyone else seemed busy with their own tasks. No one could have come over here and de-barked everything so quickly. What on Earth was going on here? Had he lost time again? Or was he officially going mad?
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