HereComesTheSnow

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

dear you

please remember luke is not for sexual

love
me

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Brewing Storm

It was with no small amount of relief that he recognized the jovial voice, the confident stride, and the at-capacity sports bra of the girl that had just walked in. Lauren, an by extension BASL, were here.

Thank god, maybe now they could get moving.

"Jumpercables", huh?

You know, that's actually a lot better than Inimica-- Oi, oi!

He winced as Priscilla was lifted, as though feather-light, from his grasp. Not because she was in bad shape, mind you. He had patched her up fairly well, all things considered, and he trusted her ability to use control on fragile things that weren't his poor emotions.

Instead, it was the sudden arm over his shoulder and tousling of his hair, coming just quick enough and forceful enough to work his neck joint unexpectedly. Was this what bobbleheads felt like on a smaller scale?

I need to apologize when I get home for break...

Oh, so Sangue was with the survivors on their end? That was good news.

If such was the case, then they could get them all out in one fell swoop, and turn the entirety of their attention onto the Manticore. He hoped Ben and Amy would be able to hold out well on their own...

Granted, they were more than a little skilled, so if Lauren felt safe enough to leave them to it, then he shouldn't hold any qualms either, right? She did know them better, and had even fought one to a standstill. Her judgement here was probably in the right.

Still, it's best we do this fast. Leave as little chance for something to go wrong as possible.

Already, it sounded like the plan had been changed...

Wait.

Her grip tightened, and he suddenly felt trapped rather than embraced. To make things worse, that exact vibe came not only from her arm around his neck, but from that beaming face, too.

Wait!

"Eh? Me?"

Run that back, what do you mean, "world's quickest conductor"? Why are you looking at him like that, Negasi?

It's metal, right?

Copper?

M-My guantlets are steel, so that's not exactly right...

He had a bad feeling about this, one way or another.

"What do I do, then?"

Face it with dignity, lives are on the line.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

hail satan

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

i recognize that facial structure and hairstyle

Inaba best

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Lucius Cypherwhat anime is that from do you know? it looks somewhat familiar

@Suku

Kiniro Mosaic

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

hello from sin city

i see the red-headed stepchild is continuing to let me down even when i expect nothing

such is their way

Academy Wars: Rituals and Technology in the Modern World, a Magitech School RP

NAGASE ERI

"Great! Let's get started, then, time's a wasting."

We had a big deal to train for, so the quicker we got to work, the better chances we stood. I was already thinking of a few ways I could use Kuraokami-sama's gift that I hadn't tried yet, albeit namely in the form of weaponry that I was interested in. I'll readily admit it, I wasn't engaged enough yet to really start getting creative...

Which only served to reinforce the notion that I should have expedited the process. You know how it is, you need to start up before you really shift into gear. You can't just put the snowball on the hill and expect it to grow, you had to get it rolling down.

One thing was impeding that starting forward motion, though.

"Oh, uh, sensei?" I ask as I finally walk all the way into the room. "How do we turn this thing on, exactly?"

Academy Wars: Rituals and Technology in the Modern World, a Magitech School RP

Here, going to try and get Eri up today because I'm gonna be headed to Vegas till the 9th

Persona - Academic Akrasia (Being rebooted, see new int check)

hi

Persona - Academic Akrasia (Being rebooted, see new int check)

Tomoda Nakamichi

You stir at the motion you're put through. The voices gathering around. They sound, funnily enough, like they're underwater to you. Seems like the people who wrote things like that had the right idea, or maybe even very good memory during periods of brain operation at suboptimal capacity.

But yes, they're there, audible, muffled, and in complete contrast to the comparatively clear whisper burning in the back of your skull.

You aren't your relationships.

Ghostlike, ephemeral, and at the very edge of your perception, it acts almost as a spark to start the rest of you up.

Who were you?

"Mom, I wanted frosted flakes for dinner, why you gotta be like that with the piano?"

You were a young man having a hard time putting a coherent train of thought together as you came to, if nothing else.

Hell, your family doesn't even own a piano.

Don't avoid the question.

...

"Oof. Did someone hit me with a bus? I feel like hell." you state jokingly, as the cobwebs clear. With considerable effort and ache to fight through, you sit up. Everyone looks about... Marginally, let's say, better than you feel.

And you know why that is.

You adjust your shades and hold the bridge of your nose. You wish it'd shut up. You wish it'd go away. You wish you didn't hear it or have it bugging you right now.

And slowly it dawns on you why.

The smirk fades.

You've been running. This whole damn time, you've been running.

You've ran right into everyone else who'd take you's life, because you didn't like your own.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't suffering. It wasn't a life even particularly hard.

You're a normal high-school kid. If anything, it's easy.

It's boring. It's dull. You want something more out of it.

It's why you try to codify everything with dumb references and pop culture parallels.

It's why you've taken interest in glorified ghost stories and folk tales.

It's why you've distracted yourself with everyone else's lives instead of looking at what you had.

You've been running from your normal, easy life because you don't feel satisfied with it.

One more time— Who are you?

...

You look, candidly, at your surroundings. A void with a floor made of butterflies.

Yeah, that counts as pretty abnormal.

You, garnering a reputation as the most boisterous man in whatever room you walk into, say it lowly to yourself. Not a mutter, not a mumble, not a whisper. Much like the voice at the back of your head, it's soft, quiet—

And clear.

"I'm Tomoda Nakamichi."

And you've found your interesting life.

Persona.

This time it's not a club you reach for, but a card emitting a blue light that puts the butterflies to shame. It's a hot blue, brimming with energy and potential. Instinctively, you know what it represents, what it means. What it means to you, and only you.

You grip it tight, and crush.

You feel a rush. A wave of self-actualization. Self-realization. Self-determination.

You're your own goddamn man, man.

Fire shoots through your veins. Rising to your feet, even in spite of your beaten state, you stand tall. For behind you stands taller still a pumpkin-headed spirit of fire. Your spirit of fire.

Pyro Jack.