welcome
Welcome delinquents to PHS #552. A few reminders, no rough housing, no running in the hallways, no cheating, and no talking back to your teachers. Beyond that, enjoy yourselves. After all these are the years you’ll look back on, and remember, you mother fuckers peaked too early.
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credits
Public Highschool #552 was rebooted by Xereon and Aether. Content is copyrighted to PHS #552 unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney and has been heavily edited. Banner Image Credit. Chatbox Credit
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NEW RP DISCORD SERVER. CONTACT "Shugo Yuy#5730" ON DISCORD FOR INFO. |
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COME IN COME ALL AND WATCH THE SPECTACULAR STUDENTS FROM PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL 552 AS THEY PIT AGAINST EACH OTHER IN BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN! Watch as students go toe to toe on this little tournament with an unbelievable budget allocation! See them bite each other in arena made of LEGOS! Make each other bleed in an artificial JUNGLE!, even go as far as making them break bones under an artificial STORM! Really, HOW BIG IS THE BUDGET ON THIS SHIT! SO PLACE OUR BETS AND GO WATCH BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN NOW!
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A brand new group is on the making, The Apostles, a Pillar-like group led by none other than our brand new headmaster, Gregoire Girard. A student body that would lead students and enforce the law on this little school of ours. Little is still known about this student body, but who knows? It might just be what the school needs.
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A lunch box is seen last Friday, around 12:37:08pm with an encouraging note packed inside. This appalling display that utterly lacked manliness has left many students stunned and outrage, as some decided, after a long while, to speak out against it.
Full Story Here.
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A World that Doesn't Exist -- 30 days writing challenge
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Apr 19, 2016 7:18:33 GMT -5
This is an extremely bad idea. And maybe that's why it is extremely appealing. I originally wanted to do an After Hour, but a 2000 word story just turned me off so badly, my metaphorical boner shattered. After being pressured to enter the National Write a Poem Month, I decided to spite everyone and everything poets stood for, and write prose instead.
Because I'm such a goddamn rebel. Let's do this.
Just a disclaimer--I will get another member of staff to edit my post count down by 1, since this post isn't actually a post.
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Apr 19, 2016 7:18:47 GMT -5
00. WHEN THE DAYS END
19th April 2016.
It was a religious ceremony of its own;the blowing of candles, the artificial clapping and the cutting of cake--the twist of icing and sponge in her mouth while it twisted into a perfunctory smile. The taste stung her mouth; it was too sweet, too sour, and too bitter all at once. It was like every single wish she made, and every single wish she hadn't obtain.
She didn't remember them in sequence, only the ones that she wanted the most. For the fighting, the screaming, and the struggle to stop. The reddened eyes, bruised cheeks and pulsing fear to cease. If world wars could end in a matter of years, she couldn't discern why her torment wouldn't eventually dissipate after a decade of desperate wishing. Surely, a divine being, the supposed omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent person up there, in the sky, looking down at mankind with a benevolent smile would respond.
But god never gave a fuck about her.
Hence--two years after, she ran, leaving only destruction and angry tears in her wake. She didn't want to handle any of those, and when she finally siphoned the pieces of herself back, bit by bit, from each fight she had to extricate herself from, she knew it was too late.
There was no going back now.
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Apr 19, 2016 8:21:28 GMT -5
20th April 2016.
When Alice went down [on] the rabbit hole, Ira was sure that she contemplated the fact that the gods were playing a sickening joke on her. Ira was an Alice down the rabbit hole--an indubitably lost person, but with so much more control.
There was, aside from the aforementioned of rabbit holes and what they stood for, two things Ira Defaire thought of as lowly in her life. One of them included taking care of fishes, and the other, deviating from a topic as intriguing as the essence of humanity into one about fishes.
To begin the fundamental dissection of what was pleasurable, and all that was good and sublime, the most obvious action to take was to begin by explaining the passage of Chief Good and Chief Evil, along with their Motivation--pleasure.
While denouncing worldly pleasures, Epicurus argued that all humans needed, was really; two pair of clothing, and perhaps some bread to get through their life. Each human life could be bliss, as long as simplicity, friendships and reflections were used to their full advantage. However, no one rejects pleasure, in and of itself because it's pleasure. Rather, they reject it to fulfill a higher purpose that they are convinced by to gain other pleasures that they deemed more worthy than the ones they currently had. Those that didn't attain pleasure weren't avoiding pleasure to begin with; merely that they didn't know how to seek pleasure rationally. By failing to do so, they proceeded down a path of impulsive self-destruction, and attributed it all to just "pleasure."
However as humans denounced others that were beguiled by the charms of present pleasant, seeking pleasure was explicitly deemed a sin, especially if it's over-done, for pleasure quicken everyone's hurtle down devastation, unless controlled. That, however, was easier said then done, for it's addictive, and the biggest advice to not be "addicted", so as to say, was to not venture near the forbidden fruit to begin with.
The charm of a forbidden fruit was however--that. It was forbidden, and everyone would be stricken if it was defiled, hence,, they protected it, while tapping off bits and pieces to devour as they denounce devouring it.
The problem laid in every desperate bid for self-preservation. The foundation for inherent evil was the lack of selflessness, but no one could live their entire lives being honest, pure, and selfless beings. Those were ideals pummeled down by everyone that was pretending to be honest, pure and selfless; "because I cannot be that romanticized being, and failed to recognize that no one can attain it, I will look to the next thing I can control, and make sure they will be honest, pure and selfless. Guilt spurned action, and the action, this time, was to ensure that whatever one cannot attain for humanity, the others would. It would not 'help me' as per say, but I will be doing it for the good of humanity, and all that's good and sublime. Hail, gods and goddess! Do I atone for my sins? Will I achieve paradise when I breathe my last breath, for I fool myself that my sphere of control could breed honest, pure, and selfless beings?"
By insisting that they do not want others to make the same mistake as them, it was easy to ignore the fact that to impress upon the children of good traits, they needed to be respected. After being respected, the children will proceed to emulate every bad trait they possessed as well; they are their idol, bad traits would be seen as absolutely needed in those that do not possess independent thought.
As the animosity towards everything that was supposedly good and sublime grew rapidly in Ira, she proceeded to end it by saying out loud exactly what she said to her parents in a different context.
"So long, and remember to kill the ants."
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Apr 21, 2016 8:37:04 GMT -5
21st April 2016.
"You are so petty."
That word exploded into the day. Ira frowned and peeked out of her book. She wasn't the one being yelled at--on the contrary, she was calmly sitting on the bench and minding her own business, with her book shielding her face from glaring couples...and admittedly, the sun. The female was outraged; her face was purple with absolute rage and Ira had to suppress a small smirk when she spotted the impending storm.
The pause the female made amplified the meaning of 'calm before the storm' as she looked directly into the male's eyes for a terse second, and slapped him harshly across his face.
Stifling her laugh as a small cough, Ira clamped down on her bottom lip and looked straight up into the sky, determined to keep a straight face. The twitch of her lips, however, gave everything away as she bowed her head and hid it behind her book once more, aware that the girl gave her a glance.
The day was supposed to be a pretty one--with fairytale clouds and a cool weather, but none of that actually mattered to Ira. If they were the backdrop of a drama, god forbid the rain started pouring and dramatic thunder flash. It wasn't the couple per se that piqued her interest, they reminded her of every couple she chanced across: from females trying too hard because they were infatuated -not by their partner- but by the idea of love, to equally emotional males that fell for impulsive words and adoring glances.
As far as she was concerned, love was nothing but a troublesome mess to deal with, and irony struck Ira tightly, for she was, by default, in a relationship. She was still indifferent, and very much ignorant of the impact she made on...well, anyone for that matter. The majority of them were emotional, and she knew that perfectly well. That was sufficient for her to work with.
While Ira Defaire watching the arguing couple--the enraged female and the humiliated male, she listened to every hurt, every word, and their cadence and inflection carefully, she shook her head as she realized how ludicrous they were.
How ludicrous, all of them were, as a matter of fact.
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Apr 22, 2016 6:35:42 GMT -5
03. Beautiful Cruel World.
22nd April 2016.
Pacing silently through the alleyway, she avoided the sneers and smoke that reeked the constricted area. As the broken, bruised and hopeless scum of society lounged in their bars, their places, and among trashes, she was different from them. At least, that was what she wanted to tell herself; "as long as you are different, you can never be truly harmed, for you are only harmed if you are differently harmed." Being harmed is an option, ergo it's the person's fault if they feel attacked.
However, that logic shattered before her abruptly, along with her disillusion of life. She possessed a tight leash on her emotions, and losing control over them was embarrassing, especially if it manifested into a slap--right in front of the dark haired girl, seemingly amused by the show unraveling before her.
When the female continued her walk in the park, she chanced across the very same girl that witnessed her bout of humiliation--Ira Defaire. Meeting Ira's violet eyes with her annoyed, green ones, she strolled up confidently to the first pillar despite feeling a slight twinge of uneasiness.
Before she could say a word, Ira shut her book and stared at her solemnly for her few seconds with an emotion on her face that the female could only describe as pity, but the twitch of Ira's lips gave it away. Feeling a small pulse of anger swell up inside her, the female clamped it down and addressed the first pillar in an almost demanding manner.
"You have no right to eavesdrop on our conversation like that." She snapped, her hands tightening into fists.
Instead of answering her directly, Ira simply looked out to the masses of children scrambling about and chucking sand at each other, while screaming joyfully; enjoying the few years they had before reality smite them across the face. It was a few seconds before Ira finally answered, but her reply deviated entirely from the female's question.
"You are pretty smart, hiding your own deceit by making his up."
The female's knees gave way and she sank deeper into the bench--her eyes were as big as moons. Ira struck a nerve, and she knew it-- she knew it, and with that, the females gaped, trying to grasp the incomprehensible situation before her. Without waiting for the female's reply, Ira continued almost ruthlessly.
"That's not a very nice thing to do, is it?"
"How-" The female shook her head, as though she was attempting to release her inhibitions. Air escaped her mouth, as she struggled to regain her original snappy, scowling composure. Her mind was in a mess; her plan was supposedly perfect, the chances of slip-ups were so minute...
"How I knew?" Ira mused. "Well, let's see. I supposed I could tell you, but that would ruin the fun for the both of us."
The female tried to find courtesy for her tone, but it was hard to do so, when your world seemed to be snatched arbitrarily from your grasp and spun around cruelly.
She was sick, sick of her lover, sick of his idiotic insecurities and emotional states. However, powerful emotions were hand in hand with persistence, and the only way to concoct a break up was to find something that he had wronged her in, before attacking everything he held dear to him. That wasn't easy, and she planned extensively, even engaging the help of two friends that forcibly yanked him into an inappropriate situation that made him look like he was cheating...
"You are emotional too." Ira replied softly, perpetually amused by her bafflement.
"How dare you." She was incensed.
"Isn't it odd that he readily accepted the break up?" Ira interrupted, her lips on the verge of twitching once more.
Before she could deny anything, she felt her gut sank as she stared right into Ira's violet eyes. Prove me wrong, those eyes said, searing right into her and readily reading everything that she was struggling to hide. Say I am wrong, those eyes challenged once more, but she felt too sick to resist.
"Moron."
As she struggled to control the ill feeling that swept her into the tide of confusion, anger and pain, she realized, that what she said might very well be true.
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Apr 27, 2016 6:43:43 GMT -5
27th April 2016.
There was no fun in the word 'normal'. Many people she's familiar with enjoyed pulling a number of ethos on her, the most common phrase she'd heard from them was "Everyone is special.". If she had the energy, she would patiently point out that the word "everyone" do not accompany the word "special" unless the phrase "is not" was carefully placed between them.
Truth to be told, she had an ego. She wanted to wallow in her own fantasy--her own daydream that she was genuinely more intelligent than the average human. She knew that she was more interesting--she was a girl that held infernos of promises in her hands, someone that allowed lies to dance on her tongue, while setting a blank canvas of emotions on her face.
She has her fair share of nightmares. She once idly commented to herself that carrying normal insecurities was considered a cardinal sin in her mind. She was someone that asked people for their definitions of life, before granting them an existential crisis or two. Life was nothing without a few crisis proliferating and leaving devastation in their wake. The ones that survive weren't strong. No, they were simply damaged. Or at the very least, they carry the notion that they are damaged beings, wallowing in the ocean of life.
However, as she giggled to herself silently while they stared at her, evidently in shock by her audacity, she was struck with a bought of exhaustion that kicked her ebullient self right in the face. What was she doing with life?
That question kept her mystified enough that she continued thinking about it, well after she exceeded her childhood.
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