Your first post is a thread that links to some site.
This does not make a good first impression.
But we can keep the thread right? Because it turned out kinda fun
That's up to an SE mod.
I have no clue how any of this shit works.
Before Vanilla, mods would only show up with a Mod "badge" if they were posting in the board they were a mod for. Other boards they would show without one (I think, I may not be remembering that correctly though).
Munkus BeaverYou don't have to attend every argument you are invited to.Philosophy: Stoicism. Politics: Democratic SocialistRegistered User, ClubPAregular
Your first post is a thread that links to some site.
This does not make a good first impression.
But we can keep the thread right? Because it turned out kinda fun
That's up to an SE mod.
I have no clue how any of this shit works.
Before Vanilla, mods would only show up with a Mod "badge" if they were posting in the board they were a mod for. Other boards they would show without one (I think, I may not be remembering that correctly though).
Originally badges showed up everywhere.
Then badges showed up as long as you weren't hidden offline.
For about three or four years it was modified so badges would show up only in your forum.
Vanilla has user icons so its omnipresent again.
Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but dies in the process.
Unbreakable, do I have to be eating sushi to watch jiro dreams of sushi
I've been trying to figure this out for weeks
Nope!
It's a pretty good documentary! And although past experience has deemed that seafood is not exactly for me, I have to admit that I got really hungry watching it and everything looked delicious
You were beautiful then, in your strapless white cocktail dress. I thought I would die with the way the curves of it hit off your waist, I really did. The way your hair flowed down your back in little waves, carefully curled in that way you knew I especially liked. It allured me in a way I could not fathom. And your eyes, locked on mine...I could not resist you. At the time I wasn't thinking. I wanted to take you right then and there in that after prom hotel room that my idiotic older brother purchased for us. And so I did. I took you right there on that pristine white hotel bed without even a single thought to the consequences. Alcohol will do that to a kid though, won't it?
You weren't so beautiful when you called me on that hot summer day. As a matter of fact, the revulsion riled in my throat the second those dreaded words spilled out of your mouth. The ones that would doom me to a life of incompetence. Of want. Of constant need that no matter how hard I tried I knew I wouldn't be able to fulfill with my meager education. You'd brought life into a place it didn't belong. We were just kids. Kids ready to go off and explore the world and have adventures. We weren't ready for new life. I hung up the phone in a grim sort of finality that even then I didn't really understand.
For two weeks that summer you were ugly. You were the demon that haunted my sleep, the inexplicable entity that kept me on my toes. The thing that kept me running. I awaited your calls with baited breath and at the same time I utterly dreaded them. I didn't want to hear the test results or about the doctor's visits or about the prenatal care routine. I wanted to pretend the awful thing didn't exist. For those two weeks I found myself successful.
It was when you refused me that I began to hate you. After all, life was a constant ebb and flow of force that we could not control, you reasoned. Something that beckoned and called to you and that you could not change even if you wanted to. Something that even as we spoke had blossomed within you and was still blossoming. 'I'll pay,' I reasoned, and why not? Three hundred dollars was not a lot to ask of me at the time. A hypodermic needle, a little suction, and it would be done. Our parents wouldn't even have to know. Still you refused. You refused the one thing that would allow me peace. You refused to remove the monster from within you.
I cut off all contact with you, not wanting to hear, wishing that the thing I planted within you did not exist. I reasoned in so many ways that it was not my fault. I was bright. Accepted to a more prestigious university than you could ever hope for, and on grades alone. I did not deserve such a burden for such a brief mistake. It was not my fault. It did not happen. We were young and foolish. We were too drunk. I was the male; it was your job to stop me. Eventually I began to avoid even thinking about it. I pretended it did not happen. For the last month of that summer you yourself did not exist.
After that I nearly forgot about you. Summer moved to fall and without a second thought I moved across the country without so much as a word to you. College life consumed me. My existence became a jumble of nothing, a constant blur of drinking and sex and the foggy haze of marijuana that never seemed to leave me. I did not study. I did not attend classes. The facts that I ignored began to consume me, and as a result I avoided them with a fervor. Through the smog I failed to see the reality of the situation. My bright, deserving brain didn't even make it through a single semester.
It was not until I arrived at home that I began to think about you again. At the time you were still a creature that I reviled. Something that I loathed in ways I could not understand. Something I had no interest in. Somehow even through this, though, I could not help but picture your stomach, heavy with child, skin stretched thin from the effort of holding such a bundle. Your breasts heaving with the weight of feeding the newly anticipated arrival.
It took me nearly three weeks before I cultivated the courage to call you, to dial those ten simple digits that would put me back in your orbit. Still I hated you, but more than that I began to realize that I was frightened. Truly frightened in a way that I could not and did not wish to understand. I wished to forget but could not. I wished to reverse that night, the night where I took your innocence, but it was too late. Far too late. Instead I was kind, but the kindness was not for you but for me. I thought perhaps it could bring me peace.
Of course, at first, you rejected my kindness. I couldn't blame you for your lack of trust. I had betrayed you. I'd left you to rot alive in a solitary coffin, the door of which I put the nails in myself. I couldn't forgive what I had done. For a week I did not move. I did not think or eat or talk or breathe even, it seemed. You did not talk to me. To you, I did not exist. I was but a menace in your dreams.
It wasn't until a week later that I received a call that you were in labor. At first, I was hesitant. Reluctant to walk back into a life that I had so readily cast away. I felt as if you deserved better. As if the life churning within you deserved better. Somehow I could not resist the calling. Eight long hours later I arrived in a harrowed, whitewashed emergency room and asked for your name. The nurses were kind. They did not see me as a monster. They did not know who I was because you did not mention it.
It hit me when I swung open that hard metal door that I'd never really appreciated just how beautiful you were. Your hair tied up in knots, face glistening with sweat, enchanted me in a way that a strapless white cocktail dress never could. Even as the blood still ran between your legs, as the look of horror overtook your face, you were beautiful. Even as you looked upon me with that one expression, mouth completely slack, eyes devoid of emotion. A look of complete betrayal. I could not bring myself to look upon you in return. I stood there with my hands in my pockets and did not move.
"He's dead," you whispered, in that quiet, pleading voice you always used back in the days when I thought you ugly. "Oh God, he's Dead! He's Dead!" Your voice raised to a fever pitch, neck strained forward, unrelenting river of tears streaming down your face. I wanted to comfort you but could not find the words. My expression remained the same.
I could not bring myself to look upon the thing in the nurse's arms, either. The small, lifeless, bloodstained clot of flesh covered neatly in sterile white hospital sheets. The monster we had created. Its skin horrified me, mottled and purple, like that of a burn victim. Its fingerless hands stretched outward as if seeking a salvation I could not bring. I could not bring it to either of you.
I take another drag on my joint and snub it out in the dregs of my coffee, it's only nine AM but I'm already debating fourths of both.
I lean back in my chair and part the blinds and stare out into the wretched forum I call my home. From my office window I have line of sight to the brony thread; the things I see in a regular day would make a lesser poster pale in shock. Hell, sometimes I contemplate getting a transfer to neo GAF, but I know the mods would never approve of it, the damn bureaucrats
+13
Options
Skylarko7 Vile Rat o7o7 Photon Torpedo o7Registered Userregular
My thoughts are interrupted by the tell tale static of my Skype chat radio. "Crawford we got a spam filter tripped in your jurisdiction, we might need some cat gif crowd control, can you handle it?"
Dame walks into the forums around midnight. Says her boyfriend is stealing her video games.
I tell her it ain't my beat, so she says she'll go it on her own. Try to stop her, tell her it's crazy talk. That this crazy world will get her in more trouble than a rangers thread on Christmas.
Bogey steps out from the shadows, pulls me back. He takes a drag on his cigar.
"Forget it Rorus, it's Reddit Town."
Sterica on
+20
Options
Skylarko7 Vile Rat o7o7 Photon Torpedo o7Registered Userregular
Posts
Before Vanilla, mods would only show up with a Mod "badge" if they were posting in the board they were a mod for. Other boards they would show without one (I think, I may not be remembering that correctly though).
I love days where I just keep getting good farts. Just emptying rooms, cropdusting children...
It makes me believe that a higher power has blessed me.
that's your solution to everything.
who are controlled by the papists
where's lorc
eaten by werewolves.
Steam
Originally badges showed up everywhere.
Then badges showed up as long as you weren't hidden offline.
For about three or four years it was modified so badges would show up only in your forum.
Vanilla has user icons so its omnipresent again.
Nope!
It's a pretty good documentary! And although past experience has deemed that seafood is not exactly for me, I have to admit that I got really hungry watching it and everything looked delicious
Even octopus
Even the live octopus
I don't know why that made me so hungry
I better not regret this. Only recently has ElJeffe stopped threatening to "cut" me "slow and good."
That sounds sexy
I hope you and eljeffe have a good time
damn near drowned.
No, wait that was a pool cover.
You were beautiful then, in your strapless white cocktail dress. I thought I would die with the way the curves of it hit off your waist, I really did. The way your hair flowed down your back in little waves, carefully curled in that way you knew I especially liked. It allured me in a way I could not fathom. And your eyes, locked on mine...I could not resist you. At the time I wasn't thinking. I wanted to take you right then and there in that after prom hotel room that my idiotic older brother purchased for us. And so I did. I took you right there on that pristine white hotel bed without even a single thought to the consequences. Alcohol will do that to a kid though, won't it?
You weren't so beautiful when you called me on that hot summer day. As a matter of fact, the revulsion riled in my throat the second those dreaded words spilled out of your mouth. The ones that would doom me to a life of incompetence. Of want. Of constant need that no matter how hard I tried I knew I wouldn't be able to fulfill with my meager education. You'd brought life into a place it didn't belong. We were just kids. Kids ready to go off and explore the world and have adventures. We weren't ready for new life. I hung up the phone in a grim sort of finality that even then I didn't really understand.
For two weeks that summer you were ugly. You were the demon that haunted my sleep, the inexplicable entity that kept me on my toes. The thing that kept me running. I awaited your calls with baited breath and at the same time I utterly dreaded them. I didn't want to hear the test results or about the doctor's visits or about the prenatal care routine. I wanted to pretend the awful thing didn't exist. For those two weeks I found myself successful.
It was when you refused me that I began to hate you. After all, life was a constant ebb and flow of force that we could not control, you reasoned. Something that beckoned and called to you and that you could not change even if you wanted to. Something that even as we spoke had blossomed within you and was still blossoming. 'I'll pay,' I reasoned, and why not? Three hundred dollars was not a lot to ask of me at the time. A hypodermic needle, a little suction, and it would be done. Our parents wouldn't even have to know. Still you refused. You refused the one thing that would allow me peace. You refused to remove the monster from within you.
I cut off all contact with you, not wanting to hear, wishing that the thing I planted within you did not exist. I reasoned in so many ways that it was not my fault. I was bright. Accepted to a more prestigious university than you could ever hope for, and on grades alone. I did not deserve such a burden for such a brief mistake. It was not my fault. It did not happen. We were young and foolish. We were too drunk. I was the male; it was your job to stop me. Eventually I began to avoid even thinking about it. I pretended it did not happen. For the last month of that summer you yourself did not exist.
After that I nearly forgot about you. Summer moved to fall and without a second thought I moved across the country without so much as a word to you. College life consumed me. My existence became a jumble of nothing, a constant blur of drinking and sex and the foggy haze of marijuana that never seemed to leave me. I did not study. I did not attend classes. The facts that I ignored began to consume me, and as a result I avoided them with a fervor. Through the smog I failed to see the reality of the situation. My bright, deserving brain didn't even make it through a single semester.
It was not until I arrived at home that I began to think about you again. At the time you were still a creature that I reviled. Something that I loathed in ways I could not understand. Something I had no interest in. Somehow even through this, though, I could not help but picture your stomach, heavy with child, skin stretched thin from the effort of holding such a bundle. Your breasts heaving with the weight of feeding the newly anticipated arrival.
It took me nearly three weeks before I cultivated the courage to call you, to dial those ten simple digits that would put me back in your orbit. Still I hated you, but more than that I began to realize that I was frightened. Truly frightened in a way that I could not and did not wish to understand. I wished to forget but could not. I wished to reverse that night, the night where I took your innocence, but it was too late. Far too late. Instead I was kind, but the kindness was not for you but for me. I thought perhaps it could bring me peace.
Of course, at first, you rejected my kindness. I couldn't blame you for your lack of trust. I had betrayed you. I'd left you to rot alive in a solitary coffin, the door of which I put the nails in myself. I couldn't forgive what I had done. For a week I did not move. I did not think or eat or talk or breathe even, it seemed. You did not talk to me. To you, I did not exist. I was but a menace in your dreams.
It wasn't until a week later that I received a call that you were in labor. At first, I was hesitant. Reluctant to walk back into a life that I had so readily cast away. I felt as if you deserved better. As if the life churning within you deserved better. Somehow I could not resist the calling. Eight long hours later I arrived in a harrowed, whitewashed emergency room and asked for your name. The nurses were kind. They did not see me as a monster. They did not know who I was because you did not mention it.
It hit me when I swung open that hard metal door that I'd never really appreciated just how beautiful you were. Your hair tied up in knots, face glistening with sweat, enchanted me in a way that a strapless white cocktail dress never could. Even as the blood still ran between your legs, as the look of horror overtook your face, you were beautiful. Even as you looked upon me with that one expression, mouth completely slack, eyes devoid of emotion. A look of complete betrayal. I could not bring myself to look upon you in return. I stood there with my hands in my pockets and did not move.
"He's dead," you whispered, in that quiet, pleading voice you always used back in the days when I thought you ugly. "Oh God, he's Dead! He's Dead!" Your voice raised to a fever pitch, neck strained forward, unrelenting river of tears streaming down your face. I wanted to comfort you but could not find the words. My expression remained the same.
I could not bring myself to look upon the thing in the nurse's arms, either. The small, lifeless, bloodstained clot of flesh covered neatly in sterile white hospital sheets. The monster we had created. Its skin horrified me, mottled and purple, like that of a burn victim. Its fingerless hands stretched outward as if seeking a salvation I could not bring. I could not bring it to either of you.
I'm sorry.
I am the gaijin who gets mad strange in a strange land, who wants to my local cop friend who is totally going to die in the end
>forum won't let me post my story to writer's block
I supposed posting for reviews would be kosher but I guess not.
I don't know.
necessarily
Need some stuff designed or printed? I can help with that.
I tried it
It's um...hmm...
Well the important thing is that you like it, and now I can say I tried it and didn't
I lean back in my chair and part the blinds and stare out into the wretched forum I call my home. From my office window I have line of sight to the brony thread; the things I see in a regular day would make a lesser poster pale in shock. Hell, sometimes I contemplate getting a transfer to neo GAF, but I know the mods would never approve of it, the damn bureaucrats
Agreed.
Only you Skylark. Only you.
This isn't 4chan, don't do that greentext shit.
I tell her it ain't my beat, so she says she'll go it on her own. Try to stop her, tell her it's crazy talk. That this crazy world will get her in more trouble than a rangers thread on Christmas.
Bogey steps out from the shadows, pulls me back. He takes a drag on his cigar.
"Forget it Rorus, it's Reddit Town."