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21 days ago
Current Never stop creating. Never stop improving. Live life fully, honestly, and the mystical adventure never ends. Thank you, Sensei. I think I'll train tomorrow.
9 likes
3 mos ago
My dreams are getting weird. They usually involve sterile lighting and a bunch of guys in labcoats discussing sedative dosages around me and getting really scared when i try to go to the bathroom lol
1 like
4 mos ago
i consume enough energy drink i changed my zodiac sign, i'm more taurine than any motherfucker born in April and i killed eleven people in that applebees two miles down the road
5 likes
5 mos ago
i be putting myself into situations
2 likes
6 mos ago
mom come pick me up there are big block letters that pop up in my background layer every time i do an action or punch an innocent bystander i'm getting scared
2 likes

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Most Recent Posts


@Greengoat No Harumi this time?
I need to dredge up the series timeline and see where we are on a "current events within Academy City" scale. Everyone loves hearing crazy rumors about the other districts!
Hello I bring familiar purplescent yankee/yankii to the table


youko!

defender of justice!
I forget if we've already gone over this, but would you like a reconstructed character sheet or would porting over our old one work?
@Crimmy@GreenGoat

Shinjiro Karasawa - In front of Harumi's Apartment Building

"Arright, let's see here."


With Hat-chan stuck in the conversation involving signatures or other such distracting yet ultimately necessary matters, her grapeoid compatriot wasn't keen on just standing around and waiting for her when he could at least proof-of-concept this shit. Idle hands were the devil's playthings, and all that God-fearing mumbo-jumbo. Sooner he could get his pal sorted the better.

This was mad simple anyway, the kind of stuff you learned to do within an hour of moving things in boxes past curbs, stairs, or other such lips.

"H'up ya go."

First, he replicated the tilt from earlier, albeit this time by pulling back upon the top of the package's opposite end and bracing the weight against his chest. So far, so good. Next, he shifted the strength of each hand, alternating the changes in balance upon the box's near edge so it sort of "shimmied" forward, progressing until he hit the curb itself.

A quick glance over the side confirmed that the far edge had cleared it. Onto phase three.

He replaced his far grip upon the opposite side with the ol' reliable push, and drove the package onto and past the curb—

SHHRK.

His plan.

His perfect plan had been marred by the unthinkable.

"Oh are you kiddin' me?!" he indignantly growled beneath his breath once his mind registered the unmistakable sound of separating adhesive and tearing cardboard. "Who th' fuck puts a seam on the goddamn bottom?! Fuck outta here!"

Calm down, man, not your fault they did a wack job of sealing the thing up, you don't need to be beastin' over it...

"Hat-chan," he called in a tight manner, trying very audibly to not sound as ticked off as he very visibly was. Staring a hole through the package didn't help that case. "Ya might wanna peep this."


At the risk of bringing up a certain painful memory, I would describe the walk you make towards an airship on the day of missions to be similar to having a live current running through your nerves. Fatigue and grogginess were distant concepts that lurched to the recesses of the mind. With the airship idling on the tarmac, the noise alone and slight yet growing disturbance of air would rouse anybody to full consciousness.

Adding the atmosphere of a rough unknown requiring "heavy" equipment and another team that was ready and waiting to go into what was definitely battle, and possibly war...

Well, that'd be overkill even for the me that was inevitably crashing and burning once this was all said and done.

As we drew upon the aircraft and the team that had made themselves at home on a few supply crates outside it, we were met with four very different gazes from four very different women.

The first that immediately stood out to me was the girl whose leg room would probably be large enough to encroach upon the seat opposite if she wasn't careful. If I had thought Beryl, Skye, or any of the women I knew who eclipsed me in height were tall, she was a scale beyond even them. She had healthily tanned skin, robust yet charming features, and her eyes were playful, blue, and focused squarely on our stoic leader.

The next was a similarly cheery and invested young woman with hair of dark blue or purple. It was hard to tell in the lighting, but what was easy was that she seemed even more ready to get along than her towering teammate. I could spot a particular excitement in those red eyes that were drawn not just to Jericho, but flitted between the two bags at his sides— maybe a gun nut. They did tell him to go "heavy".

Third was immediately familiar, and the posture and poise in her immediate greeting of our team was exactly the same as it was nearly a week's time before, when she'd drawn up to my and Bianca's ragged selves just post-healing process to hand off cruise tickets. She was an apathetic sort from what I remembered, similar to Jericho or maybe Gratia, but from her cold appraisal's indication she didn't recognize either of us from that excursion half as well as I had her. Fair enough. It was just an errand for her team, after all. I had someone else to thank. I remembered that much, but couldn't place the name, which elicited more of a grimace than any of her harsh tones towards Jericho could during her staredown with him. I had to jog my noggin and get that straightened out before this was over...

And then my eyes met with the last. The only one looking at me.

It must have made for such a horrible first impression, didn't it?

Her features were fine and delicate, and set into a pensive frown that I wasn't quite sure how to read, but felt like it suited her. It carried a vaguely dissatisfied air, the sharp lines in her cheeks and nose coalescing into the expression naturally. Her hair was long and red, ending in curls, and her bangs concealed one eye from view. But the eye I did see was definitely staring straight into mine. It was a sharp and searching ruby that seemed to expect something of me. Did this pretty girl know me? I racked my brain, but was sure I hadn't done anything to, or even met her before...

I usually remember the faces of the people I've met at this school. But no matter which way I looked at hers—

"Your moron has a knight's instincts. I'll trade you for mine when we're deploying."

"Hn?"

The spell was broken by Jericho's ever-level tone presenting an immediately pressing matter.

I looked over to Bianca as she turned her equally nonplussed pools of cyan towards me.

Was I the moron, or was she?

I'm a bit of a dunce a lot of times, and Jericho was well aware by now that I was a near-washout with grades that stood on the knife's edge. But to my credit, he did seem to believe I was at least kind of a reliable guy.

Whether I agreed didn't matter. All I could do was offer the angel beside me a quick shrug before we blinked and faced front again.

"I'll make that trade," the leader of team Vivacious frostily intoned. "Whatever happens to her on your watch, I'll revisit on yours tenfold."

Jericho's gaze drifted back to the gorgeous young Faunus on his left. With her wide cyan eyes, porcelain smile, and her wings, she may as well have been an angel.

"I'll make that trade," the leader of team Jumpercables echoed.

Oh. Cool, not me!

...

Sorry, Bianca.



As it stood, no matter how smoothly they flew, a combat airship was a combat airship, and combat airships have space on premium. It would have been conceited of me to expect a seat and elbow room with two teams aboard. That was fine, though. An inconvenience that minor was nothing I'd ever raise a ruckus about, and it didn't matter enough to mention in anything more than passing. I had experienced it enough through last week alone.

The only reason I even brought it up was because it resulted in a very specific seating arrangement.

A shock of red you'd have to be blind to miss appeared in my peripherals as I felt a light shift in the seat beside me, now carrying a passenger.

"Bonsoir." murmured the young woman from before, her voice low and dark. I was honestly a little surprised to have heard it in the first place. But I wasn't complaining either.

"こんばんは。" I replied evenly, returning the red-haired girl the favor of a greeting in one's native language. Luckily for me I knew enough Central Mistralian to avoid a goof on the associated timing— "Good evening". I tilted my head to look at her once again. She still appeared to simmer, but it might have no longer been directed towards me.

Huh. I thought it was just the lighting before, but there actually were streaks of black highlight in that wavy red curtain of hair.

"Not much of a morning person?" I ventured.




I couldn't at all tell if my team leader was serious. The thing about Jericho was that he was both a natural at acting thanks to years of undercover mission training and a semblance that necessitated such, but also hopped up on so much Atlesian propaganda that he might think certain breakfast foods were a foreign concept to anyone south of the Arctic Circle. Little did he know, Mom loved her waffle iron back at home, even when she tended towards feeding me bowls of oats and plates of eggs to start my day off.

"Yeah, I'm down for waffles. International House of Bagels is a bit more popular down here though, so you might have to substi--"

Wait, hold on. Pause. Back all the way up.

Didn't you just say something super sketchy, Jericho?

Like, super-duper sketchy with a runny red nose and the jitters?!

"Why do you know if there's a discount for looking like you're on ecstasy." I asked in a voice so carefully level I may as well have used a protractor.

I received an enigmatic smirk in return. Not a smile, definitely a smirk.

Screwing with me. I would roll with this as him screwing with me and not contemplate the possibility of a drugged out whackjob with access to that many guns, that many knives, and this many of my peers.

...

No, he was definitely screwing with me, if we were being real. Jer was too professional.

...

I looked again at his shirt, so different from the white tank that I was currently shrugging another layer over.

I read the text carefully, very surely parsing it as intended.

Perhaps I spoke too soon?

...

No, he doesn't—— oh thank god bianca's back

"Oh, good. Guess that means we're ready to roll?" I asked, raising a hand to greet our returning bird and fox, thankful for a way out of the previous conundrum. As usual, my choices in fashion for combat were the ever-serviceable, ever-understated "hoodie and jeans". Simple and timeless, despite Bianca's insistence on needing to dress more thoughtfully. But really, denim and a nice, neutral grey were as inoffensive as it got. Our clothing queen may hate hearing it, but as long as it isn't actively bad, I'm fine.

I rose, plucking Crow's Beak from the wall adjacent and resting it against my shoulder as the two filed in for any last-second instances of grabbery.
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