puddlebunni, The Wordsmith
A space pirate with pep in their step and a story in mind. I'm never sleeping, and game devving away. Sweat is the nosebleed of the heart!
>> Lately, I've been playing a lot of Harvest Moon for GBC. That sort of thing suits me.
>> I've been staying up until midnight writing a VN for Rainbowjam19. Really, I gotta sleep sometime.
Nen! It's the energy of life! You've trained for years and finally it's time for your super awesome Water Divination Hatsu test! Find out your Hatsu and make Sensei proud, kiddo.
For those of you who don't know, Hatsu and Nen and all that are from this great thing called Hunter X Hunter. You don't have to know HXH stuff to play, but just say'n. Also, this is my first story game (not counting that middle finger to WC a while back) and I wanted to make a cool personality test. You may have multiple paths, so feel free to do whatever. I think martial arts look cool. Have fun!
Goodness, It seems like I'm actually doing something, huh? I'm so terribly busy but I hope this will turn out nice. It will be some time, though.
I can remember it all. I'll lay down and feel the boards creak below me, feel the dust settles on my worn out face, the the heaviness of some unseen thing. It's time to sew all the pictures back together.
I can remember sand getting up my nose as my parents car revved and turned into a speck in the distance.
I can remember my brother squeezing my hand, grinning as hard as he could.
I can remember the unseen thing, and what it wanted.
probs gonna be a long form not unlike this: http://chooseyourstory.com/forums/creative-corner/message/25153
its all in google docs for spellcheck proper, you fools!
Recent Posts2. A Very Good Dream on 11/4/2019 10:59:40 PM
I like the feeling of water in my ears.
I always think about water seeping into my brain. There’s a hole in the ear, of course, so there must be something stopping all the water from getting into my skull. I found this diagram in a science book of the ear, with all it’s curvy parts and little tubes turning in on themselves. There’s this part called the tympanic membrane. It’s a thin, flesh colored cover deep in the ear that vibrates with all the sounds or something. It’s so thin, so small, I used to think about poking it out with a needle. That’s kind of fucky. But I thought a lot of fucky things back then, I hadn’t adjusted quite right. There was this mental divide between myself and the body I was in, so the idea of jamming a coat hanger through my ear canal seemed more like a bored experiment than anything else.
Where do fingernails come from? That thought really struck me in middle school. I mean, it’s just this hard little plate that’s buried under the skin ...To where? The bone? Except probably not, because nails aren’t made of the same stuff as bone. In actuality, the nail grows not too deep in the flesh of the finger, surrounded by this little hardened skin stuff. There’s a root, too. Like a plant. I’d press my middle finger to the top my pointer, trying to feel the root of the nail. The root had to be somewhere.
One day in the 7th grade, I went down to my dad’s garage and found his toolbox. I fished around for the needle nosed pliers. The ones with the really skinny ends on them, you know. I’m not exactly sure what you’re supposed to do with them. I’m not a tools guy. Anyways, I wedged the thing as far as I could under my nail, clamped down, and ripped. There was a lot of blood. The nail came out by the root.
Sunny, he found me in that horrific mess, my entire hand dark red and dripping. There must have been blood on my face too, because my first thought after the whole thing was to stick my finger in my mouth like a little kid. It’s just so fucked. I just feel real bad about it. Sunny’d just gotten out of the hospital himself, and I know he’d seen all sorts of crazies out there. I remember his white face sinking down the in the doorway, his body shaking so hard I was sure he was going to fall apart. Like all the bones and all the skin and all everything was going to scatter off into different directions. He looked really small, balled up like that. I was going to tell him I was sorry but when I opened my mouth, all the blood rushed out onto my shirt. Thick, dark blood. It was warm. Sunny was crying.
People were told to keep an eye on me. I was put in therapy again. I was given meds that I never took. Eyes were always burning into my back. Little holes, little burns, all along my body from these little eyes. They were red-hot and made of iron, and they followed me wherever I went. If I didn’t do something right, they’d kill me. I was sure of it. They’d come up and stab me to death and punish me for lying around in my own blood, if I cried they’d punish me for making such an ugly noise. They’d push me under when I was in the bath until the lights behind the eyes looked blinding like a halo and then nothing would come after. That is the feeling of being watched.
It was all in my head. I was really a strange little kid. You wouldn’t know it, just looking at pictures-- I’ve got dark circles but I'm smiling, missing a few teeth, wrapped up in too-large winter coats with snow piling up on my fluffy little head. Sunny’s got this million-dollar grin in all of them. We made a hallmark card pair, I think. Like a pretty little thing you’d send to relatives on the holidays along with a tin of butter cookies. We were good-natured kids. We’d just lost the chase.
The therapist I had asked a lot of questions I couldn’t quite get.
“Why did you hurt yourself?”
“I wanted to see the inside parts.”
“The inside parts?”
“The parts on the inside…”
Anyone would feel stupid, answering like that. It was a back-and-forth in which I became quieter with every word. Eventually, I would go completely silent and we’d have to end the session.
I would still go to school most of the time, although the teachers were given a special note stating that I needed somebody to trail me whenever I was at lunch or going to the bathroom so I wouldn’t do something stupid again. It was embarrassing. Nobody picked on me for it but I could hear little whispers all around me, piling up like cloud of fruit flies ready to pick me apart. Little glances wanting to now how much blood there’d been.
My head was full of bug bites. I wanted to scrape them clean.
The image of my skull, empty and bleached, was a hopeful to me somehow.
Inside of my skull, my ghost could make a little house and live peacefully sipping ghost tea and peering through eye holes like tiny windows. Yes. When I grew up, I wanted to be a ghost. I wanted to disappear happily without a single care.
That’s what it is, I’ve got it now.
The sloshing sound of water in my ears.
There is a point where no air comes in and it’s just droplets of water snaking down, down into my throat where the hands are wrapped around. It is weirdly warm here. And bright. The sky is full of specs of light and pretty glints of gold, bouncing off the foggy shape above me. Kind of like a halo. In all the old fashioned pictures, halos aren’t just rings. They’re full on orbs of glowing light that circle around the entire head. If I stop moving so much, the water won’t ripple so bad and I can see better. I’m such an impatient child. I let the light come through. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.
There’s an image of hazy light behind fogging glass. There’s colors and swimming shapes with the lines between them melting away, making it all swirl together into a sea of milky maybes. If I put my hand right here I can feel her, and the long-tipped nails with the white parts on them, and the indent where the wedding ring is supposed to sit, and the soft give on the knuckles that come with old age. The hands shiver. If I stop breathing, I can hear the gentle sob from above. It sounds like it’s far away, because all the water is around me. It’s in my ears. But I want to hear what she sounds like. I’m always afraid of forgetting. I’ll wake up and forget things even though I’ve lived them everyday. She never looks at me or speaks to me but now she’s doing it, before she runs away--
I thought about this when Sunny was hugging me. I felt bad about making him cry with the nail thing, so I started crying too and the tears made everything shine. He looked a lot like Mom. Through the tears, the colors all blurred together and I thought she was really there, holding me and crying like she did back then.
The water, the light, and the hands around my neck. The familiar feeling of being killed. It always feels like a gentle dream to me.
It’s something I think about a lot.
I got pretty nostalgic and bought some Jovy fruits on the way back from the grocery store. Whenever the house got rough, Mom would buy us Jovy fruits to eat and we'd sit on the docks and I'd tell stories and throw rocks in the water while she made phone calls. Jovy fruits are like fruit by the foot, but more cheap and plastic-like. If you try them, rasberry is the best. They should only cost you 69 cents. HA.
Press L for the Loli Lover on 10/30/2019 5:38:02 PM
Lmao, it's just in refrence to my shitposty antics here and there. I think Ford/Chanbot made a video on it.
I'm pretty sure nobody here holds me in any uniquely low regard.
Press L for the Loli Lover on 10/30/2019 4:47:28 PM
Lolicon is good at writing essays. They are very convincing. They should write more essays. I think they can clear their name. They should keep trying.
Press L for the Loli Lover on 10/30/2019 9:34:03 AM
No, I totally am for this. Please. Please write another essay. Describe everything on detail, I want it to be a crystal clear image. Try really hard on it. I genuinely want to hear what you have to say. Get Pheonix Wright with your miracle pudding routine, go ahead. The people need answers!
F Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi on 10/29/2019 3:16:01 AM
Cant believe my dad blew the fuck up
Taco Loco's Special on Dysphoria on 10/28/2019 3:14:45 PM
Ah, CYS might be a very.....Hmmm, shitposty place to post all this stuff, you'll probably get all sorts of silly comments and get called fag a lot! It's okay though, everyone knows reading is gay, and this site is all about reading and stuff. I never read. I just drink code red mountain dew and play mafia wars on my shitty blackberry.
I'm pretty set on top surgery. Eventually. One day. I will never forget when my one dear friend, that country thinks-ketchup-is-spicy white boy, walked into work and screamed "MY NIPPLES HURT SO FUCKING MUCH" before ripping off his shirt to reveal his new top surgery scars. Apparently they have to take your nipples off, and then reattach them after? So now you just have weird nipple forever. I asked him and he said that they just feel really tingly. Also the kid has never eaten a taco before. He's so white it hurts.
bitching and pissing thread <3 on 10/28/2019 3:04:30 PM
I think being a young person is just difficult in general, depending. Because young people's brains are all sorts of whack. And also college. And also jobs. And sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you have too much to do and it's all of little meaningful substance, so you end up being busy with nothing of value. How terrible!
I like keeping busy! Because my mind races a million miles a minute! But also I don't feel my feelings until long after I've felt 'em, so I end up wearing myself out something awful in the end. In college, I payed my way through while also lending money to my parents.... I worked 5 nights a week and went to a 9 hour day of school 3 days, so I only got ONE NIGHT of real sleep during them twinkly starlight hours at all! I think I gots real brain damage from that time, I did. Like an icepick straight through my pituitary. Remember, resting is important as well!
Right now, I'm trying to crawl out of an empty hole of deep dank darkness! The kind that ferments in your soul for as long as you can remember! And that sticks to your bones like glue! But everything is going extraordinarily excellent otherwise, so as long as I'm here, I really can't complain~!
greetings to all storygamers! on 10/23/2019 7:14:01 AM
You seem like a cute, spirited person. I want to see the cute, spirited story you have in the works as well! Welcome to this little cesspool! There's lots of things to do!
ah, the sweet innocence of childhood on 10/22/2019 9:07:52 AM
I've been reading through all these, and they are quite the delight. Night terrors, beaver insanity, and for some reason roff's brother has a lot of butt related stuff floating around his subconscious.
Sorry, but I can't help but picture Gower's childhood in black and white, like a deleted scene of To Kill A Mockingbird. And Gower is like a tiny little child Atticus Finch. How darling.
Joker Movie on 10/21/2019 4:39:19 PM
I remember reading an interview with River and he basically said "I just try not to think about that stuff"
The parents were never very.....Responsible sounding, to say the least, with their kids actually pulling in most of the income from a young age via musical or acting talent. They would also invite a bunch of random unfortunates to live at their place despite not exactly having the money to support them all. That and that fucking cult no doubt screwed up the minds of their kids something awful. The Children of God were basically an orgy.
Joaquim has been described as "a real nice guy, just too mentally fucked up to function most of the time".
Also River Pheonix hands down my favorite actor, just really hits me some kinda way the messed up stuff he had to experience.