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The Hummingbird

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About The Hummingbird

  • Rank
    Penguin Overlord

Contact Methods

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    raze.arein

Profile Information

  • Location
    Oregon
  • Interests
    Writing, drawing, reading, sleeping
  • Occupation
    Expert Charcoal Wielder, Conte Crayon Adept, Surveyor of Acrylics

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7,174 profile views
  1. Yes, King is very new, with only 4,300 posts. He keeps pestering me with questions about how to make a new thread and shit too. Got asked to come in to work early again. Woo for more hours... boo cause I hate early shifts.
  2. First thing my boss does when he returns from vacation is sending me a text asking me to come in early, hah. This is going to be a hard week... but I get a Saturday off, so yay!
  3. The woman’s reaction caused Valanus to cringe once again. Memories flashed in his mind – the time when he had caused such an expression on a slaver’s face resulted in a harsh beating… and more. He remembered the laugher, the knife, the humiliation, the pain. His body ached from the memory alone. His shoulders slumped as he silently chastised himself for being stupid. He didn’t expect a full beating, not out here in the open with people on either side, but a hefty slap would be expected, he thought. The beating would come later. Then she gave him her name. He stared at her, wide-eyed. Jo. He mouthed the name to himself. She didn’t even want the appellation? His mind whirled with confusion as he followed her into the store. The shop was impressively large, with the more of the window displays stacked neatly on shelves and counters. There were food rations in dust-free crates, hunting knives and skinners, cloaks and various odds and ends. Anything and everything. It was still early in the day, and so no one had come in to shop yet (a few tags suggested overpriced goods as well). There was a slight rustling in the back; likely the owner, who either didn’t notice their entering or didn’t care enough to come greet them. Valanus kept his head and eyes down as was appropriate as Jo examined the store. She had said she wanted to talk to him, and he could only imagine what about. She seemed different than the others… but then, he supposed it didn’t matter. He wondered what she wanted, if she planned to sell him, if she planned to kill him or use him or something else.
  4. I lived on Cup Noodles in college. I had them for lunch and dinner (I didn't eat breakfast, and most of the time I just skipped lunch too). On one particularly unpleasant day, my Thanksgiving dinner was 2 Cup Noodles. This wasn't because I loved them or anything, but because they were cheap and had a taste I could tolerate for a very, very, very long time. That was itself a long time ago, and I still have one occasionally. I usually prefer Nongshim ramen though.
  5. How rude. Well, "mutts" tend to be very beautiful people (like Britty). Me? I'm just a twinkie. So this person comes in for her cake. It's a full sheet cake so it's huge... and what do you know, my cake decorator person didn't leave a top to put over the cake, and of course it's raining. She does this all the fucking time too. I can't find a top. I tear the place apart looking before calling my manager, who looks all over too before stumbling upon one hidden in the corner of the area behind shit. This took at least fifteen minutes if not more, and all the while she's just waiting patiently. I finally get her out of there and then the phone rings. "Hello?" Cue the most dreaded customer of all time - the Fire-Breathing Dragon of Rage who is infuriated I made her son wait for his fucking cake. This is a different lady, calling all the way from another store. Her: "RAWR" Me: "Yes ma'am." Her: "RAWR" Me: "Sorry ma'am." Her: "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR" Me: "Sorry ma'am." Her: "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR" Me: "Sorry, ma'am." *looks apologetically at a customer who's waiting (and listening) while this lovely lady chews me out* Her: "RAWR You're missing the point!" *hangs up* Me: *slowly hangs up the phone* "Can I help you?" Customer: "Well, she was rude. You gonna be all right?" Me: "I will be." But that's not all. I'm pushing my cart back to the room and I've got to veer through a line of customers. I say sorry and excuse me a lot. Then this lady barges through, very nearly collides with me and practically almost shoves me sideways. Customer: "Hey, can't you say excuse me?" Lady: "I DON'T CARE I WAS HERE FIRST." Then, to me, "ASSHOLE." Me: "... -_-" (if she was expecting me to qq she was disappointed) Customer: "She was very rude to you." Me: "Yes, she was."
  6. Everyone I know has kids. Congratulations, but I refuse to believe unless there are lots of pictures of a handsome miniature Ayden.
  7. The bitter waves of anger that washed over her then was nothing compared to what she felt now. It was a different sort of anger, a silent, simmering fury that grew as she watched August step into the room, unperturbed by the arrow that had so narrowly missed him. The gentle look on his face did nothing to ease her, either; if anything, it served only to intensify her wrath. She saw it as patronizing – as weak. Shakarri knew he was tired. More than tired. Exhausted. It showed in his body and his darkened eyes; the battle against Sivoy had not left him with much to give. Almost – almost – she felt sympathy for him, but when he claimed that things were more than they were, it was all swept away by a surge of contempt and resent. She stood, every line and curve in her body stiff and rigid. Her grip on her bow tightened, one end of the weapon grinding into the floor. Her other hand rested on the handle of her dirk, still sheathed but clearly ready to be pulled at an instant’s notice. For a tense moment she was silent as August, waiting for her reply. Then she stalked toward him. Leaving the dirk, her hand raised, almost as if to slap him again. Instead, it gripped his hair and she pulled his head down, forcing him to hear her soft, whispered words that were filled with poison. “You were being an idiot. And you did fall for his bait. Do you think I’m stupid? If it weren’t for that overgrown dog, he likely would have killed you.” She released his hair and then shoved him back with both hands, as if his very presence was an insult. “You’re worse than an idiot, you’re a fucking moron. Let’s get that out of the way right now. So talk before I murder your sorry ass.”
  8. Some of us have children; some of us plan to. Some of us don't want children for varying reasons. There are an innumerable amount of diseases in the world that affect the human body and/or brain. In nonhuman animals, the afflicted usually die out. But we have come up with ways to keep the afflicted alive, and thus the warped genes carrying even extremely rare diseases are passed on. From Progeria to Aarskog Syndrome, we have seen them happen and worse still. My question to you is - should they be allowed to be passed on? Should those with the most deadly diseases be allowed to reproduce? Please stay on topic. Be serious. No insults, no name-calling. Be respectful. Discuss and debate - even evade if you want with noncommittal lists of facts and myth, medical research, and evidence, but stay on topic.
  9. I remember that. It was hilarious.
  10. I wouldn't consider a life as an indentured servant or slave to be cliché. It can actually be an effective way to add a bit of drama to a character's past, not to mention it would easily fill in the requirement for your character to be a stranger with the outside world. This isn't to say it can't become cliché, but I believe you can make it unique through your own creative means.
  11. If the thread for the Band of a Thousand Eyes already exists, then you do not need a name change as I will grant you the artifact that existed when you created the thread. Mori is a different artifact albeit with similar features. If you've yet to begin the thread however, you would be looking at questing for Mori. If you want to change the quest to quest for Mori, you would either have to begin a new thread or steer the current thread in that direction.
  12. Do graphic novels/comics count? I'm reading Monstress (not monstrous) by Marjorie Liu. It's absolutely beautiful. Fascinating story, amazing artwork. I don't usually read comics, but this issue caught my eye and minutes later I had Nick ordering me the first volume.
  13. So I start feeling sick. Usually my body temperature hangs around 97. it was 99. I'm always paranoid about losing my job so I go in and work hard in my labor-intensive job, never mind I'm also losing my voice and no one can hear me. I come home, and what do you know my temperature shoots up to 103.4. I called in. They sounded a little pissy (could've just been busy or something too though), but I'm unwilling to kill myself. Or pass it on to someone else. I'm going to the doctor in the morning. Also, note so self - if new piece of hardware isn't working, it's because it doesn't "kind of work" if it's not plugged in really, really tight. This thing is not your vacuum.
  14. Though his eyes were downcast, Valanus too took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. It was a far cry from places he had been to, and unlike the woman, who never saw it worth giving her name, he was in awe of this sprawling metropolis. He had heard of it – Master Jerdosa often spoke of it – but to see its technological wonders mixed with modernized magic was an entirely new experience for him. His hands tightened to white grips on the horse’s reins as his eyes flicked back and forth from sight to sight. The woman gestured for Valanus to follow her, and so he did. He was a stranger here, even more so than her, and while she frightened him, she exuded a sort of fierce competence that was somehow comforting to be around. And she was all he knew, now. He turned his horse to follow hers, trotting down a wide street that eventually led to a line of shops featuring a general store. Displays of food, clothing, and even a few traveler’s weapons stood in the windows. “We need to talk.” He flinched at that. What about? What information did he have that she could want? He had no idea. He stared down at her for a moment, before realizing that he was staring down at her, and flushed a deep red at this breach of etiquette. He quickly dismounted, stumbling as he hit the ground. He managed to recover gracefully enough, but the way he looked at the ground and way his legs shook showed that his instincts screamed at him to kneel or cower before her. That would bring unwanted attention of course, so he didn’t. But he still wanted to. He swallowed, dared to look up at her. His hands ran through the ragged feathers at the back of his neck, which were already growing anew. “Yes…” What to call her? My Lady? Master? Mistress? That sounded right. It was the title used for most women who were above him. “Yes, Mistress?”
  15. Penguin lords unite! Welcome back!