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Code: PIRULUK

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  1. Actuallllyyyyyyyy @Pyon based on what I remember from the manga, what Dio actually says is something along the the lines of "Toki yo Tomare!!" Or "時間よ止まれ!", which literally translates to "I command time to stop!!!" As far as I know, "watamare" isn't actually a word.
  2. Uhhhhhhhh I might be wrong, but I think we're waiting on Pyon to count us off. Also, after this song, y'all should go back to your rooms and chill out, have interactions if you want but wait for dinner. Then we'll just need to wait for Lyre and Arya to do their thing.
  3. The woman behind the counter, a lady in about her early twenties, with long blue hair, dressed in a cute pastel yellow apron with paw prints on it, shook her head at Lyre's inquiry. "I'm sorry, but due to company policy, we're only allowed to serve nutritionally balanced pastries. We do have a couple cakes, but none of them are likely to be as sweet as what you would find elsewhere, though I assure you, they do still taste great. Would you like one?" As she said thus, she reached down and extracted a slice of Lemon Cake, then placed it upon a cute white plate and proffered it to Lyre. The cake was a bright yellow, devoid of icing, with a texture that looked visibly less moist than you would otherwise expect from a cake. Across its surface was a sprinkling of cut almonds, and the pastry gave off a slight mint fragrance.
  4. Yagami, maybe you could have your character come to the realisation on his own that a sword is sheathed behind him? It could be triggered by him thinking about the necessity of a weapon.
  5. So the man-person-thing knew about Erva. Well, Helen was not entirely surprised, to be sure; Even if he had no hand in bringing her here, as a self-proclaimed overseer, it was evident he would have knowledge of her beforehand. At least he did not dwell long on it; the wound was far too recent for Helen to be willing to poke at it. Helen could not help but notice that the Lord in Amaranth was far more gentlemanly and amicable now. Must be the Amaranth. As they say, clothes make the man. So a man in a more agreeable shade of color would be fundamentally more agreeable. Helen nodded her head in conviction; this logic was tested and flawless. As the Lord in Amaranth very kindly provided a shelter for her, she wordlessly followed behind him. The shelter was unnecessary, she was more than capable of keeping the rain off herself, but it would mean exposing her skills and abilities, which she would rather avoid. It would also coincidentally involve using the shawl which she now was wearing as clothing, which would leave her stark naked again, but that was hardly a major concern.
  6. Helen shook her head slightly at the Lord in Amaranth's proffered hand. "Apologies, but I must refuse. I'm not entirely comfortable with touching a man. Or really, touching anybody that isn't the woman I love. I've had... several bad experiences involving skin contact. Please understand. Nonetheless, lead the way. I shall follow, rest assured. It's not like I have anywhere else I need to be, considering that I'm relatively dead."
  7. Nozomi turned to the jittery Ringo. "Ara? Nicocchi? Well, yes, she's contracted here too, but I don't think she's here today... I believe BiBi was doing filming for a drama series...? If you want, I could let her know she has a fan among the new idols; Nicocchi loves her fans. As for the sign... I don't have anything to sign for you, but since we'll be working here, we'll get plenty of opportunities." Nozomi flashed her signature subdued smile. "Perhaps, soon I might be asking you for your signatures too. You never know how the wheels of fate will turn."
  8. After the cloaked man in front of her changed the color of his own outfit to Amaranth, Helen relaxed a bit. This was a much more reasonable dye. Still not quite fashionable, but not an insult to clothing. "I would have told you about it, but I reacted instinctively to the terrible color, I apologise." Helen felt much more comfortable following behind the Lord in Amaranth now. "Well, being polite is, in fact, one of the things I excel at. So long as the other party does not attempt to attack me. Or force me into a fashion disaster. As for gut-stabbing, I try to avoid that, usually. The stench of digestive fluids is hard to wash out from most fabrics. Well then, sir Lord in Amaranth, do lead the way."
  9. Well. So the Lord in Ugly Clothing apparently could do nothing about Helen's shawl. She was admittedly disappointed, but it could not be helped. She would just have to stain it again at the earliest opportunity. Apparently the reason she was stark naked was because... she had for some reason or other subconsciously chosen that as her appearance. Well, it served no purpose to explore her own mind; she had done enough of that while dead. In any case, it appeared she was here to... correct the wrongs she had committed in her life. Well, she had no doubts about which action she most wanted to rescind... I'm so sorry Erva... Helen shook her head furiously to clear her head of negativity. Erva always liked it best when she was smiling. After a bit of speaking, the Lord with Decidedly Bad Taste raised up the point that others might be concerned about Helen's manner of undress, then struck the ground with his bone-staff-fashion-disaster, which sent chills up her spine... Chills which were evidently justified as the next moment, her body was clothed in a large, over-the-top ball gown which was, firstly, something she would never allow herself to be seen wearing, and secondly, violet. "Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!" In a furious rage, Helen ripped the offending piece of clothing off her and tore it to shreds, making sure to leave each piece smaller than her little finger. She hugged herself, trying to get the feeling of the color off her skin. She shot the Lord Who Evidently Did Not Know How To Properly Treat A Fashionable Lady a withering, tearful glare. She felt violated. The last time she had felt this dirty was in that alleyway where she first killed. Muttering, she wrapped her long shawl around her body as a sort of makeshift dress, the bottom of the cloth angled upward, just barely covering the halfway mark of her thighs, and tied two ends over her shoulder, forming a toga-like shape that at least preserved her modesty, as long as she crossed her legs while seated. She shot an angered look at the Lord Who Really Should Learn How to Dress Better and followed after him, keeping a notable distance between them.
  10. SADASFASDASDFASFA MY FEELS

  11. Magia, huh... Kagari knew the song. She was pretty sure everybody did. Even if it was a lot less cute than what she usually listened to, she enjoyed the song a lot. "Yes, I know the-" "Ara? It wasn't Chihaya-chan?" Her sentence was interrupted by the sliding door opening wide, revealing a young woman in the doorway. She had long purple hair tied in low twintails with pink scrunchies, and her eyes were a nice, calm turquoise. She dressed in a plain white blouse which accentuated her moderate bust, accompanied by dark blue jeans. She walked in with a calm air and a graceful smile upon her face. "Ara, I heard Chihaya-chan's favorite song so I came here looking for her, but it seems she's not here... You must be the new group, then!" The woman said nothing more as she pulled out a deck of cards from her pocket, shuffling them, then flipping open the top one. It depicted an image of a wheel, with two people sitting atop it. Underneath it was the marking "X" "The Wheel of Fortune, upright. A happy surprise, indeed." The young lady smiled unhesitatingly as she addressed the room. "Well, hello. I'm Toujou Nozomi, of Myu's. We're also under the umbrella of YUSAPRO, so I look forward to working with all of you in the future~" Nozomi turned to Hiroki. "Now, you mentioned Magia. I quite like that song, myself. If you're going to perform it, maybe I could join you?"
  12. Death is a funny thing. Everybody fears it. Everybody expects it. Everybody thinks it is terrifying, yet accepts that oblivion is peaceful. Everyone holds that belief that the quiet, eternal sleep of death bring peace and nothingness. They are not entirely wrong. It is an unending nothingness. There is nothing, and nothing, and beyond that, nothing. But... it is far from peaceful. In the oblivion of death there is too much of nothing. Time passes; time does not pass. Your soul floats; your soul is still. Stasis and movement lose their distinction. All is nothing, yet nothing is nothing, for nothing is as nothing ought to be. In the midst of nothing the existence of the self does not exist, yet it also exists; for how can you perceive nothing if there is nothing for nothing to be perceived by? The self exists as a something within nothing. Hence, in yearning for something that is not nothing, the self turns in on itself in the oblivion of death. Everything the soul did, everything it yearned for, everything it wished for, everything it regretted, everything it ever felt, heard, saw, or thought; all these become considered by the soul in its bid to escape from the oppression of nothingness. Some might think it cathartic, reliving and looking upon one's ended existence with retrospective consideration. Then there are the souls like Helen Lemercier. Erva! Erva Erva I'm sorry I'm so sorry why why did I do that why couldn't I stop why did I let myself do that I hurt you I'm sorry Helen, in her incorporeal retrospection, relived her last acts: of attacking her beloved, of turning on her love. She remembered little, but she remembered regret. Regret became the emotion that filled her nothingness. Had she a body, she might have curled up, or cried, or even slit her wrists over and over in atonement for her sin. But she had no vessel, so all she could do was exist within the nonexistence of death, fueling the fire of her soul with self-reproach. Fire. To Helen, it was a familiar thing. Not a friendly thing, not by far, but one she was well-acquainted with. At some point - time had no bearing on a place where it did not exist- she had noticed a slight warmth, reminiscent of fire, burning away within the remains of her tattered soul. At some base level, she was aware that it was this kindling which kept her conscious, which stopped her from melting away into nothingness. The self-reproach that was Helen's soul became tinged the color of irony. The fire that had taken away her innocence was now denying her the freedom of oblivion. An unending, meaningless, oppressive oblivion, but oblivion nonetheless. The fire beckoned to Helen, inviting her. The first time Helen had touched fire, her core was fundamentally warped and distorted. Now, fire was inviting her to touch it again, possibly to warp her more. If Helen were to accept its invitation, surely she would be warped even more; denied even the questionable peace of death. Helen gladly embraced the fire. One such as her, who would hurt her only love, deserved not peace even in its ugliest form. One such as her deserved not even nothing. The first thing Helen felt was cold stone beneath her bare feet. The next was the cold wind stinging her naked body. As she glanced downward, she first noticed the garishly violet flooring, contorting her face in disgust. Violet as a color hadn't been in fashion for years. At least, not at the time she had died. Who knew how much fashion sensibilities had changed in the time she had spent floating around as a ball of something in nothingness? For that matter, who knew how much time she had spent in that state? It was a mystery, which Helen could not particularly find the ability within herself to care about. She was more concerned about her state of dress. Specifically, her state of undress. She was stark naked, bar the long, white silken shawl that had been her constant companion and guardian in her life. Yet, the white shawl was beautifully white. Completely pure white. Spotless. It made her uncomfortable. She wanted the bloodstains back. The lack of clothes, her closest friends, was bad enough, but without even the shawl which shared her stained purity, Helen was well and truly alone. Well, perhaps that was what she deserved. clack, clack The sound of wood hitting against stone resounded, snapping Helen out of a visual self-inspection. Approaching her, on the road, walking with purpose and a strong figure, was... ...a travesty. A crime against fashion. Helen lamented as she tried to fathom why anyone would ever want to wear so much violet. The figure approaching her was wearing so much violet, she instinctively tightened her grip on her shawl, tempted to strike down the stranger in case his severe lack of taste was somehow contagious. The ridiculous-looking staff did not help. Using animal bones to create a sense of mysticism was perfectly acceptable - she had dressed according to that concept on several occasions in life - but in conjunction with multicolored beads? The only fashion statement that made was "I can't tell the difference between modern jewellery and ancient mystical formations and therefore feel they go great together." As the walking tragedy stepped closer, Helen stepped back, maintaining a solid distance between them, such that she could easily indicate her lack of relation to this individual in case the two of them were seen by a third party - unlikely, given the circumstances of her materialisation, but one should always prepare for every eventuality. The Badly Dressed Individual then spoke up. "I am the Lord of Violet. Who may you be?" Part of Helen was hesitant to acknowledge the existence of this travesty, but she did need to know more about the circumstances of her current materialisation - no matter how badly her sole source of information dressed. She faced the Lord of Really Bad Taste and spoke up. "I'm Helen, of the Lemerciers. I'm going to assume you have something to do with why I suddenly appeared here, as well as the circumstances behind my sudden materialisation. So, first things first: Why is my shawl white and could I please have my bloodstains back?"
  13. Oh wao everyone is so good. Hopefully I can deliver something up to standard >< I'll get something up later when I have the time.
  14. This is the episode that made me actually like Caster: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqWwardHrC8

  15. This show is shipping Kumiko x Shuuichi so hard >< my precious ship is sinking

    1. Code: PIRULUK

      Code: PIRULUK

      Okay never mind my ship still exists.

  16. Final Fantasy 13 and 13-2 half price Y/N?

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Shanco
    3. Aurorain

      Aurorain

      Those games aren't...really good, at least compared to the previous Final Fantasy games anyway. But, for half price by all means go for it.

    4. Raindrop Valkyrie

      Raindrop Valkyrie

      They aren;t completely horrible either. I still stand by the fact that if they weren't in the FInal Fantasy series people wouldn't shit on them nearly as hard. They are a solid eh, it's alright.

  17. nonono I was just voicing opinion; in my post I used the im@s wikia's translation anyway since it's the one everyone has access to XD
  18. :/ I just read the translation of Nemurihime on the im@s wikia, and I can't say I agree :/ it translates the chorus into What I take issue with is the line "I will never wait for anyone to save me"; none of the lyrics in that line carry a negative. 誰 means whoever, 助け means help, 借りず means borrow/loan/rent/hire. So 誰の助けも借りず in my opinion is better translated as "Accepting help from anyone at all". I feel the whole verse is more accurately translated to Just personal gripe things. TL;DR: Ayase Eri is Horosho!!
  19. Kagari's eyes widened ever so slightly when she heard Ruri's singing voice. It was clear and sharp, a crystal carrying within it the melody of the song. As Ruri entered the chorus in full swing, accompanied by Ringo on drums, Kagari began singing softly, slowly getting louder in a steady crescendo as she sang a harmony to the main melody of the song. As she sang, she closed her eyes, trying to feel the melody of the song and blend with it as the harmonic counterpart to Ruri's singing "Sleeping Beauty is waking up, and now I will never wait for anyone to save me Even if I'm all alone I will walk forward to tomorrow" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arya: What greeted Arya as she exited the elevator was a staircase. Specifically, two staircases, across the hall from her, curving ever so slightly upward to the second floor, framing a single reception desk in between the staircases. The size of the hall in question was about two soccer fields placed lengthwise alongside each other, with the entirety of the floor covered in a purple carpeting. Aside from the path from the elevator to the reception desk, the rest of the room was crammed with ornate ivory white bookshelves, packed so tightly that there was maybe a metre, at most, between any two given bookshelves. At the front of each bookshelf was a small metal plate, engraved with the categories and reference numbers for the books in each shelf. As Arya took three steps forward, A young, green-eyed lady in a kimono stepped out from among the bookshelves and bowed deeply. She used the back of her left hand to tuck her long, straight, black hair behind her right ear, then spoke. "Welcome. May I assist you?
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