family matters [renn]

[acidtwo]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]ASHES,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]Your name is JETT HUNTER, and you love...wait, that's not how this goes. You're not supposed to get the intro. Another dreary grey day has almost set. You had planned to do something today, keep you busy while Renn finished out his stretch at public school, but absolutely nothing has presented itself as "fun" to you. Not organizing a heist, studying chromosomes in mutated cancer cells, not even just sitting around and watching television could hold your interest. Funny. Your home is two stories of luxury, and none of it really strikes you as "entertaining". Maybe you've grown accustomed to being pampered. That's sufficiently awesome. But back to the point: this day has offered you nothing to do. So, due to the sheer amount of boredom you've suffered, you have resorted to the one thing that, at the least, focuses you: sitting in Renn's room, surfing through his e-mails. Yes, it's an invasion of privacy, and yes it is INCREDIBLY rude and will probably not foster any better relationships between you two, but it's practically the only way to know what he's up to. You click through another Pesterlog, sighing to yourself. "Pripas...sounds just weird. what parent names their kid 'Pripas'? At least he's got a vivid imagination..." Kids these days, all about their romance. You remember when it was "courtship" and not "dating". Fuckin' kids these days. [/style] [STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes:oh man so sorry i have no motivation on workdays :c Tagged: renn Words: 230[/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]

[paranormal]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]Frost,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]Watched. That is how you feel at the moment. Your name is Renn Asriel- and its tonight that your true work shall finally begin. You shall be torn in the process: shattered like ice, and burnt like kindling. If you win, you're a prodigy. If you lose then you're mad. That's the way history- even in a realm where time is irrelevant- is written. But, of course, you don't know this. Another dreary grey day had since drifted past; and the ominous stroke of midnight approached. The sky, for once, was a pitch black- for lightning had short-circuited the nearby city's transformers. Dark and without the light of stars; the clouds spun in a typhoon of activity, as if preparing for their last stand- a symphony feared impossible to play. One that was not meant for you, but rather, another of your kind. Tonight, was one of those rare occasions, in which your uncle was home- rather than off, occupied by one of his many illegal ventures. Of course, you knew! One would have to be blind not to. Just as Bruce Wayne's life mirrored that of a familiar caped vigilante, crime seemed to follow your Uncle like the plague. You knew he was looming over you- and it was a familiar feeling. The shadow of an overbearing presence; prompt to appear at any given moment, in any given location. You could never feel quite safe in his domain. A challenge was due any moment now- its delay, agonizing. [/style] [STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes: "Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice." Tagged: Jettbatsprite [/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]

[acidtwo]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]ASHES,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]Sufficiently pleased with your prodding into the private life of your nephew, you decide to grab a cold drink from the fridge in the kitchen. You have to specify the one in the kitchen, because the one in the Game Room is too far away and the one in the basement only contains body parts delicious frozen turkeys. Nothing but delicious turkeys in there, yep. You step lightly through the hallway, maroon carpet cushioning your footsteps, making you nearly damn silent. As you run your hand over one, two, three priceless paintings, you question as to whether you actually need all this stuff to make you truly happy. You quickly say "yes" aloud to yourself, then continue on towards the destination. You stop short, however, when you notice a backpack sitting by the doorway. "Renn's home...shit." Tossing the idea of drinking anything out the window (if you had a bottle or something, that would have been literal), you slink back into the shadows of the hallway, plotting out what your next move is. As midnight approaches, you devise your plan. A friendly little sparring match, followed by the preemptive strike of course. Your target has been marked, and you stalk up silently, hungry eyes watching like a jungle cat, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. YOU LEAP LIKE SOME CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER, PLANTING YOURSELF ONLY INCHES FROM RENN'S FACE. I HOPE YOU USED THE BATHROOM TODAY, RENN. "How was school?" Asked almost ironically. Like he knew the kid hated it. [/style] [STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes:hahahaha i'm an idiot Tagged: renn Words: 251[/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]

[paranormal]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]Frost,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]11:56 You'd given up with your ploy. Expecting the parental device to stage an inevitable sneak attack; you'd been on guard. At the risk of sounding cliché, you'd planned to swing your armchair about and announce "I've been expecting you" But alas, it was not meant to be. Sighing, you slid off your aviator's jacket, revealing a baggy satin t-shirt- the bat signal displayed on its front. You then made your way to one of the mansion's numerous bathrooms- and perhaps then, you would raid the fridge . You had to be specific about which one though. (Let's just say; you don't like the basement much anymore.) As you sneaked through the hallowed halls, the plush carpet absorbed your footsteps. The mansion, its interweaving corridors, its suspiciously empty rooms, its emotionless paintings. This was a house without a heart. Looking down at your feet, you could see imprints where the carpet was previously tread- not by yourself, but from a giant of a man. Just then, "How was school". You filch. (Or much rather, freak the fuck out.) You had DEFINATELY not been expecting that, but that had not stopped you from uttering "I'd been expecting you, dear Uncle" in an almost mocking tone. "As for the public education system...", you shrug. "an er...enlightening experience, I suppose" [/style] [STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes: "Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice." Tagged: Jettbatsprite [/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]

[acidtwo]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]ASHES,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]" 'Enlightening'. I would hope it was more than enlightening, Renn." When you want to be threatening, you get this look, like you're thinking up something sharp and mentally sending it through the air into whoever you're currently air-stabbing. It's sometimes effective. "That little firecracker stunt you pulled, I should just make you finish the whole semester here." Truly a threat, public school is. You air-knife intimidate Renn for a few more seconds, then look away. You place a hand over your mouth, frowning. "I honestly don't know where I went wrong. You used to be such a good kid. Now I'm actually having to step in and administer discipline. Can't very well just toss you out on the street. No...your mother, bless her soul, would kill me." Space mother, or whatever. You pause for another moment... ...and then you smile. "But I'll tell you what. You don't like this public school business. I don't like paying the school district money to put you through a passive-aggressive punishment. So...I'll put a deal on the table." You turn back, bending to be at eye-level with the kid. "If you can pop me with another firecracker tonight, I'll pull you out of public school. No, even better...if you manage to land a single hit on me I will." Time to see exactly what Renn's picked up about fighting. You know, if this didn't seem like some sort of twisted bonding exercise to you, it might just seem completely idiotic and cruel. But no, domestic violence is clearly the best way to strengthen your ties with your non-nephew. You take a step back, holding your arms out to the side. "I'll even let you have the first move." We are the best family ever. [/style] [STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes:hahahaha i'm an idiot Tagged: renn Words: 293[/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]

[paranormal]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]Frost,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]12:00 "Checkmate", you nod. He sends a piercing glare your way. His sadistic grey eyes are met with your own; bright, threatening, gleaming with fiery arrogance; but at the same time, ice-cold determination. (You *got* this.) He too nods, before pushing you aside and continuing down the opposite corridor. You're left standing there in awe. Your mind, threading on and on; as if delaying a symphony it fears impossible to play. The challenge presently eluding you, only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler. Silence. The grandfather clock, stationed ever so eloquently in the main atrium, chimes throughout the mansion- and, as if a trance were broken, you pounce. And so it starts; the rise of the conductor's baton. The rest of the orchestra will soon be compelled to follow en suite. Tonight, is going to be a long night. [/style] [STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes: It's on like Donkey Kong, Old Man! Tagged: Monsieur Slenderman [/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]

[acidtwo]

[atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=width,480,bTable][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,100][atrb=vAlign,top][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 80px; color: #4d4d4d;height: 100px;-webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg);-o-transform:rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); float:left;margin: 70px -70px 70px -70px;]ASHES,[/style][STYLE=font-family: impact;font-size: 100px; color#4d4d4d;width: 400px;margin-left: 90px;color: #373737;]ASHES[/style][STYLE=float:right; border: 3px solid #4d4d4d; height: 100px; width: 100px;margin-top: -120px; margin-right: 10px;][/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]12:01

[/u]
"Not even close." You defy your protègè, sidestepping his grasp and disappearing into the darkness with a laugh. Tonight will not bring sleep.

Only the hunt.

Precautions are taken: you cut power from the emergency power generator outside, nullifying any chance of being caught. You lock the Atrium, Foyer, Game Room doors and the Roof Hatch, securing the perfect environment to battle.

....buuuut you might have forgotten to lock your office. Somehow, that one slips your mind. Through this mistake, this one little mistake, your entire world will come to an end. It's only later that you will realize this and callously scorn yourself, but for now it's alright.

What's the worst Renn can do? Pick up Sburb? It's not like you have an advanced copy that you've been running diagnostic scans and deep web searches on, come on that's stupid why would some almost-forty-year-old guy have something like that lying about.

[/style]
[STYLE=margin-left: 80px; background-color: #4d4d4d; color: #b1b1b1; font-size:10px;padding:3px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]Notes:hahahaha i'm an idiot Tagged: renn Words: 293[/style][STYLE=margin-left: 80px; font-size:13px;font-family: arial narrow;padding:0px;text-align: center;margin-right: 10px;]template by pianissimo of BTN[/style]
[/td][/tr][/table]

[paranormal]

Frost,

ASHES

[/style][STYLE=text-align:justify;font-size: 10px;padding: 0px 10px 5px 80px;]
1:34
Darkness; it envelops you. Questions swirl around in your mind in a typhoon of activity. You are at the epicenter of all that is insanity, all that is ludicrous. Irrationality is your master. Absurdity- your nature. You are the last weapon, the final blow- the--- and you lost it. Your psychotic, psychological awakening slips from your mind. (Well, that was a complete waste of time.)

How? What? Where? Why?
What's that? Apparently, your name is Raging Asshat. No, that can't be right- It's Renn Asriel. As your senses come to you, you realize that you have no fucking clue what happened.

You've been knocked out for only the slightest moment, but it feels like eons. "Start Game ==>"

With that, your eyes flicker open. Shadows of obscure figures are cast upon cold steel walls by the dim glow of a back-lit screen; several screens, actually. All monitors display one phrase: "Start Game==>"

You warily approach.

Notes: "Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice." Tagged: Jettbatsprite

template by pianissimo of BTN