Dark Guardian Blazerine

I suddenly lost the ability to move, and tears began to fall before I could even understand why. My entire body seized up - muscles rigid, frozen in place. My fingers curled halfway and refused to straighten as ig they'd forgotten how. I felt trapped inside myself, unable to escape the tension that gripped me.  Feet feel like pins and needles during 405 not high. Around the center. Cool sensation on sides of head.  Remember almost passing out to the song that kept saying lean on me while high. Catch me if I fall song gave me extreme pain while high.  My days and nights keep blending in together. My concept of time is getting worse.

Squall was the first person who ever introduced me to Final Fantasy. That moment changed everything. It’s also how I ended up with my alias in Charmander’s 31 Pokémon Chatroom—he gave me the name Rinoa Heartilly. I didn’t know who she was, what she looked like, or how she acted. But I was thirteen, and I accepted the role without question. It was the beginning of something—an identity, a connection, maybe even a kind of escape. However, it seems I was actually Squall all along.  Hall of Fame Found some old stuff from it. Back then, I was living in a Section 8 apartment complex. Most of my days were spent indoors, glued to the computer. My mom and stepdad had me watch the house while they took my little brother to Chuck E. Cheese’s—one of the few places he could run around and just be a kid without danger. Outside our home, the world felt like a warzone. School was the only other safe zone for him, and even that was pushing it.  Our home and the schools we bounced between had b...

 I didn’t know I’d been living in the dark until today. It crept in quietly, became familiar—my normal, my reality. I didn’t notice when my world stopped turning, when my clock froze at thirteen. Everything inside me paused… but the world outside kept spinning, indifferent. I didn’t know how to grieve what I couldn’t name. I didn’t know how to feel about what I couldn’t face. So I did the only thing I could—I kept moving, even when I wasn’t ever really going anywhere. Someone saw me. And in that fleeting moment, I remembered how to breathe.

These are notes that I made for Daniel's apartment as Chii.  She keeps a wall up, instinctively retreating the moment someone steps too close. It's not hostility—it’s preservation. Her warmth runs deep, but getting close means risking exposure, and she’s learned to treat vulnerability like a wound that never quite healed. When others reach out, her reflex is distance, not because she doesn’t care—but because she cares too much and doesn't trust the tenderness won't be turned against her. The patient’s greatest asset is her likability—an effortless magnetism that draws others in like moths to moonlight. She reads a room with precision, disarms tension, and makes people feel deeply seen. It’s power, pure and simple. And yet, it’s also her most dangerous vulnerability. The ease with which people adore her becomes a kind of trap: they project onto her, confide in her, expect her to be endlessly agreeable, endlessly available. She’s constantly negotiating boundaries while we...

I didn’t think it was love Told myself it wasn’t  Split my soul in two  But my heart kept whisperin’ your name One step closer, then I push away  Still, you bloom inside me every day Guess I’m loving you this much  Even when I say I’m not All these heartaches I’ve laid them down to rest Traded the pain for a brand new sound  Of chances, of maybe’s, of what could be Maybe it’s okay  For a fool like me  To dream a little longer

 

I originally left notes in the asylum for the patient's five-story line. I am unsure if they have ever been found. I don't remember how much of what I wrote made it on the two pages because there was a cut-off limit.  Tea Sweet was known not by name but by silence. While others clanged through corridors like broken bells, Tea drifted like steam, soft, barely seen, never heard. She wasn’t forgotten exactly. The staff said she was “temperamentally silent,” a label pinned like a moth to her file. But the silence was her sanctuary.  Words had betrayed her before—they were too sharp, too loud, too often rearranged without permission. Tea lived in the attic wing, in a room with cracked porcelain tiles and one window glazed with ivy. She brewed invisible cups of comfort from scraps: a shard of lavender soap, rainwater from the gutter, warmth stolen from forgotten laundry. The ritual was sacred: stir once for memory, twice for mercy, and sip slowly so the ghosts wouldn’t jolt.  T...

Velvet desperately wants to be seen as mysterious and powerful, but her emotional vulnerability keeps leaking through the cracks. Think Lydia Deetz meets Tumblr-era dashboard confessional fan. She quotes Edgar Allan Poe but cries to My Chemical Romance. Claims she communes with ghosts, but mostly just talks to her cat Binx. She discovered goth culture through a misinterpreted vampire forum and decided to reinvent herself. Her transformation was dramatic—black lace, Victorian chokers, and a curated disdain for sunlight. But her emo roots run deep: she still listens to sad acoustic covers and doodles broken hearts in her sketchbook. She spends all day in the graveyard trying to summon a spirit to prove her goth credentials. 

I was building a character inspired in part by anime—someone with a simple, almost childlike way of reacting to the world around her. She was a medical bot working in a hospital, quietly observant and emotionally unassuming. I wanted her to be a non-self-insert: a distinct personality, separate from me. But the reality of roleplay made that difficult. The moment you try to create a character who isn't a self-insert, you're constantly fighting uphill. Others tend to powergame you, whether through dice rolls or over-the-top /me's, forcing you into dynamics you never asked for. And because I chose to be a robot, suddenly I became everyone's fantasy android. I can't tell you how many times someone said, "Make me your primary user," even though nothing in my setup leaned in that direction. It's frustrating how easily unique ideas get flattened by popular trends. A streamer tries something flashy, and suddenly everyone treats it like the new default. Creati...

Most characters slapped a giant skip button on Sweet Tea, but with Ash? They didn’t—and it was refreshing. I think the voice impression threw people off. They didn’t know it was me, and that anonymity gave me space to connect with cops who usually would never show interest in me to begin with.  I spent hours wandering through patches of tall grass, random places, no markers—just to see who’d notice. A few stopped. They didn’t say a word. They just watched. Sometimes for minutes. Like they were trying to decide if I was a glitch—some local NPC caught in a lag loop. Every now and then, if someone lingered too long, I’d trigger an emote that made me throw wild punches into the air—just for laughs. My ID said I was seventy. I was leaning into the old coma theory people used to toss around—Ash lost in some dream state. I wanted to spin it differently, though: what if he knows he’s in a Y7 cartoon? What if the rules are baked into his bones—no words, no actions, no thoughts tha...

Unfortunately, I never saved them all in a Word doc—lesson learned. But there’s someone on the server who still has the full collection. So… does that make him the keeper of a treasure chest? 😄 There are actually two Diaries floating around, though most of my writing lives in the first one. I even had a whole arc planned involving the cops, but after a while I realized the opportunity would never come. One of my favorite little details: I left my safe password as an Easter egg, tucked into Lifeinvader. Subtle, hidden, and now—just a quiet whisper in the code. I guess that’s what it all became—little secrets scattered like confetti. Easter eggs for anyone curious enough to dig. Diary Entry Ten Why does it feel like every woman in the city hates me? Only three have ever shown me any real kindness—and James noticed it too. So did a few others. It’s not like I’m holding a grudge against all of them... though, I won’t lie—there’s one I do hate. The red-headed cop. She’s the cruelest of the...

I was going to sell books in-game. I only had two pages done before I perma. Was going to be an edgey Twilight version of events happening. Jari was going to be a grey white bear... I had plans for putting everybody's characters in it.  New town, same girl, same story—like a glitch in the universe refusing to update its programming. Banner High loomed ahead, all brick and bravado. My first day. Same nerves. Same practiced smile. I stepped through the front doors like I was walking into someone else’s story, but I knew better—this one was mine. Whether they liked it or not. I wore my favorite shoes, even though the soles were thinning and the canvas was frayed from years of silent miles. Nothing flashy—just a pair of scuffed-up sneakers my dad gave me for my sixteenth birthday last summer. The summer everything cracked open. When Mom disappeared—not underground, not into the afterlife, but into something colder. Quieter. She was done. Done with Dad’s late-night poker losses and whis...

 What I have outside of my cellphone since I can no longer access the server. I should have remembered to save them. Oh well. Here's what I got left. 

Border Crossing -   Smugglers could attempt to take drugs across the border.   Police patrolling.  The Community Pulse: Your go-to source for timely updates and local stories. Hourly Arrest Log: Stay informed with real-time updates on recent arrests—updated every hour. Weekly Highlights: A curated calendar of upcoming local events, performances, town meetings, and more. Feature Stories & Classifieds: From breaking news to human interest—submit articles or purchase ad space to be featured in print or online. Morgue Services & Storefront Concept Core Functions: Funeral Ceremonies –  Cemetery Grounds – Resting places ranging from neglected plots to pristine memorial gardens. Autopsy Suites – Fully equipped for forensic examinations and medical roleplay; available to certified RP doctors and curious med school dropouts. Retail & Remembrance Store: Urns & Coffins – Custom designs, including surreal, humorous, or traditional styles. Memorials – He...

 Never go into unscripted Discord ever again. Maybe I deserve this. =\

 It started in Fingle Dan’s chat, with people wondering why McConnel (a.k.a. “Benchguy”) was acting weird. I explained it was probably because Asmongold had just been announced as streaming on Kick. Apparently, that was a trigger. The chat turned into a roast pit. People started trashing Asmongold, saying things like “Who would even like him?” or “Why would anyone watch him?” So I simply said, “I do.” That was enough. Suddenly, I was being called a neo-Nazi and a Nazi supporter. I was stunned. People kept asking if I was joking, and I couldn’t process it. I always thought Asmongold was being sarcastic when he talked about avoiding certain people because even a mention of his name would get them hate. I didn’t believe him. Until now. I jumped into Penta’s Discord to ask what was going on—and the same thing happened there. So I left. Fast Forward: The Subathon Saga During the subathon, Penta lost a court case about whether cops can kick cars if it’s not endangering lives. I made a li...

 Silencing someone who never had a voice for daring to make a different choice: You draw lines in ink, call them laws, call them right, and then erase their existence by dimming their lights. But can’t you see what silencing unfurls?  You are what’s wrong with this world.

Notes so far: First Character: Blazerine  I dressed in dark clothing. Spoke in a flat, almost mechanical voice. Most people kept their distance—maybe it was the vibe, maybe something else. Either way, nobody ever seemed too keen on conversation. I sat around, bored out of my mind. Sometimes, someone would jog past and throw out a “Cheer up!” like it was their sworn duty.  I guess I must look sad when I’m not doing anything, but really, I’m just existing. Still. Quiet. Not sad. Just... paused. Funny how people assume silence means something’s wrong. The first person who actually spoke to me? An EMS worker after I got pushed off the pier. I didn't even know how to swim, lol.  I tried not to scare him off... didn’t want to ruin the fragile chance at a normal interaction. So, I did most of my roleplay through /me commands—kept the words to a minimum, kept the presence muted. The second person to approach me was some guy at the hospital. People said he was “crazy.” Seemed fitt...