|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 12:38:02 GMT -5
(Sounds good!!)
|
|
|
Post by shades on Nov 15, 2017 13:08:19 GMT -5
[ awesome. i'm super excited! ]
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 14:29:01 GMT -5
(Do y'all also have like a million protestors on your campus?? I go to a liberal college in a conservative state so like there are random people yelling on th3 sidewalks is that normal.for y'all too or no??)
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 15, 2017 14:51:06 GMT -5
( yea occasionally I get Christians coming to say gay people are evil and such. This year they upgraded to Pickett signs lol )
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 14:53:46 GMT -5
(Oh geez. How do they not get thrown off campus like. Why)
|
|
|
Post by shades on Nov 15, 2017 14:54:26 GMT -5
[ my college went on strike last year and all professors didn't come to class and picketted on the sidewalk from 5 AM - 9 PM. like dedication. ]
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 15, 2017 15:02:53 GMT -5
( free speech. Right to protest. That sort of junk. A lot of students to heckle them so I guess they get punished in some manner (
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 15:08:12 GMT -5
(Bruh respect for mass protest for good means tho)
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 15, 2017 15:32:17 GMT -5
( yea )
|
|
|
Post by shades on Nov 15, 2017 15:51:31 GMT -5
[ yooo. this class is so boring. help. ]
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 16:52:10 GMT -5
(Draw your character!!)
|
|
|
Post by shades on Nov 15, 2017 20:14:55 GMT -5
[ I actually have! And right now I have once again engulfed in Horizon: Zero Dawn. Whoops. ]
|
|
ιcєу
nothing good starts in a getaway car
|
Post by ιcєу on Nov 15, 2017 21:05:54 GMT -5
( Sorry, I got home really late last night and I had lots of homework to do. But I'll get my form up tonight )
|
|
|
Post by lozi on Nov 15, 2017 21:21:04 GMT -5
Master Gunner Benno Tigs [ astro ] Male | 25 | Pansexual
Most would observe first that Benno is above average in height, standing at 6 feet, 3 inches tall. His shoulders are broad and muscular from his hard work, and his complexion honey gold from his long days on deck. His eyes are a cold baby blue with grey flecks throughout, reminiscent of when the sun hits the waves just right. Loosely wavy jet black hair grows rampant atop of his head, falling to just above his shoulders. Benno has a number of identifying characteristics such as a long nose, a small gap in his front teeth, and freckles dotting his body, thickest on his forearms, shoulders, and face. Benno sports two gold helix piercings in his left ear. A long, jagged scar runs along his right shoulder blade.
Benno is as unforgiving and unpredictable as the sea he lives on. He answers to very few people, only listening to the captain and quartermaster because hey, he'd rather not go out on the bottom of the sea with cannonballs around his ankles. To he honest, who would? He certainly lives up to his title as Master Gunner, his aim is tried and true, and no one alive has seen him miss a shot. He's got a very dark, twisted sense of humor, but at times can be seen as charming, or even compassionate. Benno is a very hard worker, and would do whatever he had to to get by, even if it means at the expense of another's hands. Benno loves to drink, but always has a deep-seeded fear that he'll end up like his father. He struggles with the guilt of promising his mother, who still doesn't know he's a pirate, that he would always keep his morals straight, and to never stoop to stealing. When it comes to clutch, Benno is as loyal as it gets.
Very few people really know how Benno got on the ship, much less what he was before his sea life. Truth be told, Benno really never had much to his name, and barely a roof to live under. He grew up with an elder sister, Angela, his mother, Katherine, and his ever-inebriated father, Williams. The worst days were when his father couldn't control his temper. After a night gone particularly sour, his sister was ejected from the house, leaving Benno to his own devices. He knew he would never have the courage to stand up to his father, so he set out to change his mother's life. Since his father constantly spent the family of their money on his drinking and gambling, Benno planned on finding a way to build his mother a secret stash. When Katherine got enough money, she could travel far away and get herself a new home, and a new life. He tried staying close to home, but when an offer on a merchant ship popped up, the wages were high enough that he would be stupid to not leave his small town. After all, the jobs where he lived were small, and low-paying. If he could land the job, his dreams of freeing his mother could be vaguely realistic. When he was 16, the merchant ship he was on was attacked by the Vile Squid. One of the few survivors, he was taken on board the ship, and offered his life in exchange for his labor on the ship. Still having a purpose he refused to part with, he accepted, but ultimately had to start over. He could not send money to his mother when the ship docked, only receive her letters and feel helpless to do anything. He worked his way up the status on the ship, finally making out to be the Master Gunner, about two years ago. When he received money, he sent it to his mother, living to read her letters. However, a letter has been sent informing Benno of his mother's death, due to a domestic dispute with his father.
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 21:49:06 GMT -5
(Show me your drawings!! Also Nicola has a crush on the gunmaster it's decided lol)
|
|
ιcєу
nothing good starts in a getaway car
|
Post by ιcєу on Nov 15, 2017 22:18:20 GMT -5
The Surgeon
Brynn Durrett [Icey] Female | 28 | Bisexual
Brynn could be a rather lovely girl, but her face has been permanently marked with a solemn frown. Despite her spending most of her time in the blaring sun, she has the ability to never tan. Her pale skin is dusted with freckles all across her face. She has deep eyes of sea green, which are surrounded by a frame of thick, dark eyelashes. She has thick, charcoal colored hair that falls just past her shoulders in wild curls spiraling in every direction. Her hair is often pulled up and away from her face, though a few loose strands usually fall around her face. Brynn stands at a slight 5'3", and is has a slender build, with a flatter chest and slight, soft curves. Very few people know this, but the ship's surgeon has a tattoo of a squid on her right arm, with it's body on her shoulder and collarbone and it's tentacles wrapping around her arm.
Ask anyone, and they will tell you that Brynn is no fun. And to be honest, they would be correct. She spends most of her time stuck in her medical books and journals. Logic and reason are languages she speaks fluently. She is very focused on her purpose on the Vile Squid and is there for that purpose only. She isn' unkind or wicked-hearted, I swear. She simply prefers her own company and is very goal-orientated. She likes to stay focused and when she sets her mind to something, it's near impossible to tell her that she can't do it. Brynn can be a bit stubborn, though, and can get caught up in her own head. She has a thirst to know things and it's simply not enough just know what something is. She needs to know why, and she has a drive to understand everything. Simply put, she is a perfectionist. But not one person can say she doesn't do her job well.
Brynn was brought up by her father in a small town. He was the town doctor and being that he had no sons, he taught everything he knew to his daughter. From the age of ten, she attended births, deaths, surgeries and everything in between. She learned well, and as her father aged, she began to take on some of his work. Her father grew sick died, leaving Brynn alone and in despair at the ripe age of nineteen. Soon, the townspeople accused her of poisoning her father and she fled to avoid prosecution. After two years of working in the slums and dark alleys, she accepted her current position from Nemo, and the rest is history.
|
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 22:50:04 GMT -5
(Bruh I wanna hear about the fight)
|
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 15, 2017 22:58:47 GMT -5
(Aaaaah I'm sorry!! Bruh that's stressful i would've cried! I'm glad ur TA took it)
|
|
|
|
Post by shades on Nov 15, 2017 23:28:53 GMT -5
[ black and yellow. hello (again after like four hours of gaming and one hour of my cat holding my hand) yes I am alive. yes i despise technology so much. like my laptop hates me i swear. ]
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 15, 2017 23:29:38 GMT -5
[ test ]
|
|
ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
|
Post by ℊℓоω on Nov 16, 2017 0:28:24 GMT -5
.NEMO RICHARDS . There’s nothing quite like the smell of Millonae: salt, spilled booze, and rotting palm leaves. An unacquainted nose might wrinkle in disgust. But not Nemo Richard’s. To him, it was a scent of all things familiar and even safe, although he would never admit to such sentimental feelings. Rather, he simply allowed it to fill his lungs as he stepped onto the damp deck. All around were the mundane sounds of ringing bells, shouting men, and drunken laughter. The tall pirate captain did not pause to take in his surroundings, for Millonae never changed. It was not subject to the same rules and traditions as the more civilized surrounding islands. No, it was a place for vagabonds and scoundrels who did as they pleased.
Nemo accepted a half-empty (lol pessimist) bottle from a dirty-faced man on his way down the dock. He took a swig, recoiled at the wretched taste, and promptly spit it back onto the deck. “What is that?” he called back, scowling. The man, who leaned against a pile of wooden crates, smiled a toothless smile.
“Gunpowder and sea water!” he answered.
Nemo corked the bottle and flung it into the bobbing black waves where it belonged. Fine then, the pub would be the first destination. Likely that was where he would find the rest of his crew anyway. They were pleased to have the evening free of duties; but that freedom included doing exactly what they would’ve done on the ship anyway. Singing, slapping their knees, and falling out of chairs. Not that Nemo could blame them. He was headed for the same place.
The pub mere meters from the docks. Its door was flanked by two women in ratty, clearly dyed wigs. He failed to acknowledge their giggles as he entered. Inside was even more chaotic than the docks. A few shouts of welcome rang out as he strode toward the nearest empty table where he sank into a creaky chair. He expected to enjoy at least a few minutes alone, but the chair opposite was quickly filled by a figure he did not recognize.
“You must be Nemo Richards,” sounded a smooth voice. Nemo’s gaze bobbed up, black brows knit in annoyance. He found himself looking into the face of a man of a similar age. He was of a tan complexion, and he donned a beard the color of rum. His eyes were impudent green. “The name is Captain Salvator Montagne.” He tipped his hat forward in greeting. The article was of a flashy make, with splay of feathers extending from the brim.
“I could’ve guessed from the hat,” replied Nemo.
“So you’ve heard of me?” inquired Montagne, who flashed a self assured smile. There was something incredibly off putting about the man. Nemo often did not like people, but this man in particular seemed to embody everything obnoxious. Self important, nosy, and attention seeking.
“I’ve never heard of you. I was referring to your station. You needn’t tell me you’re a captain if you’re wearing a captain’s hat.”
Something flashed in Montagne’s eyes. Clearly he picked up on the clipped nature of Nemo’s words, but it wasn’t embarrassment that registered in his expression. It was almost as if the comment had amused him. “Well, you might not know who I am now, but you’ll be glad to have met me when I’m famous across the seven seas. As you are.”
Nemo rolled his eyes. Subtle. Nevertheless, he was curious to hear what the man had to say, so he dipped his head forward as an indication to continue. At very least it would be entertaining.
“I can see you are skeptical of me, Captain Richards. And I must say while although your indifference hurts me, I cannot blame you for it. You must know many young men who claim they will one day be successful pirates. And so you laugh because you know it takes more than ambition to thrive on the open seas.” This Salvator had a vague accent. Spanish perhaps? “But I am not one of those foolish young men.”
Nemo’s amber eyes narrowed. “How so?” he inquired.
“Because I have one thing that trumps all the characteristics of a good pirate. Better than ambition, better than talent, better than cleverness. Better, even, than all those things that make you Nemo Richards.”
“And that is?” egged the dark haired captain.
“A map.”
Nemo’s forehead wrinkled. A cynical retort nearly sprang to the tip of his tongue. Every pirate in the Atlantic had a map. But he refrained from poking fun. There was a certainty in the other man’s eyes that shut him up. “A map to what?” he asked.
Salvator Montagne smiled. He sat back in his chair, as if intentionally keeping Nemo in suspense. And then he said, “A map to the Neptune’s Horn.”
Perhaps it was the saltwater and gunpowder, but Nemo did not feel the urge to laugh. He studied the other captain, shaking his head slightly. His face remained neutral, but the unease he felt in the chest felt tighter now than it had moments before. “That’s only a myth,” he said hoarsely. There were a number of maps floating around that claimed to lead to treasures greater than any man could desire. Mountains of gold the size of Paris. Dungeons filled with rubies and gems brighter than the Caribbean sunset. Nothing ever came from the searches, nothing but shipwrecks and sunken skeletons. Time was better spent in the land of the living.
Salvator shook his head in a look that most closely resembled disappointment. “You know, I had hoped you would be different, Richards. I had hoped the King of the Seven Seas would be a little more open minded.” His head was forward, so his hat covered most of his face. But Nemo spotted the beginnings of a smile. “Of course, if you don’t believe me, I suppose the horn is simply mine for the taking.”
The voices in the pub were practically deafening, especially in combination with the clinking of glasses and shuffling of boots. Nemo leaned forward in order to better hear his companion. “And how do you know this horn exists, hm? Did it come to you in a dream? Did Neptune himself sprout up from the ocean and hand the map to you?”
He was a bit taken aback for as he asked the questions, Montagne pushed back his chair as if to leave. Before he stood, he looked Nemo dead in the eye. “Because I’ve seen the treasure for myself,” he said. And with that, he excused himself politely from the table. He shot Nemo a cocky wink and then waded into the crowd to presumably join his crew.
Nemo remained where he was for several second, still in the sudden disquietude. Logically he knew the other man to be lying. Surely it was all some elaborate scheme to lead him into a deadly ambush. Or a trick to get the coins out of his pocket. That’s what most of the people on the island were after. Only there was another part of him that believed in the mysterious workings of the universe. His life had often been sprinkled with the supernatural, and in all honesty there was a deeply buried fear of it. And also an intrigue. Like a slippery, coiled eel wriggling in the pit of his stomach.
He ordered a strong drink.
|
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 16, 2017 0:41:14 GMT -5
(Oh wow your replies are so pretty how do you do that?! I also love the starter aaa)
|
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 16, 2017 0:48:25 GMT -5
(Oooh. Is it okay if mine are ugly haha I always reply on my phone)
|
|
|
|
Post by mourningdove on Nov 16, 2017 0:58:55 GMT -5
(Lol thank you!! I just hate being on my laptop for some reason. Probably because u can't lie on your side and type on a laptop as well as on your phone lol)
|
|