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14 days ago
Current i believe in u @GarlandDaHero
16 days ago
Her: He's probably thinking about other women right now. Me: What's going to happen to Takeoff when Migos all go solo someday
22 days ago
look at me lmao, checkmate liberals
29 days ago
Buddy......I have something to tell you about the Targaryens........
29 days ago
I saw a huge Dany stan unironically cursing the Lannisters a few weeks back for being "that fucking incest family." The self-awareness of these people is completely MIA


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There reached a point in every meeting, no matter how classified or secret, when you just had to admit you were sticking around because you were privileged to be there.

That's okay! Secret missions and briefings are badass! Were you to pickle the brain of Corinne Shourichi, hell, you would be so bamboozled by the power of my forbidden knowledge that you'd forget to be pissed that someone cut into my beautiful head and stole my brain in the first place.

But sometimes, even the most professional or protocol-fetishizing spook had to admit that there was no real point to letting a bunch of ne'er-do-wells, lazy bums and miscreants sit around and pretend we really gave a shit about much but dealing with a kaiju in the heat of the moment. We weren't here to discuss protocol, or even really debate what to do about the fortress; they were a fortress, they could handle themselves, we would be the ones in the thick of every fight. Most of us couldn't even bother to remember the name of the manager of the fortress' galley because all anyone really recognized her by were her tits.

Her name's...

Kayla? Kaori?



She has gigantic tits.

And if we can't remember the name of a girl like that, how the shit are we gonna keep an eye out for the fortress or the support staff if they ever found themselves seriously engaged? Michel using all his brainpower on the Beamstars? That little airhead needs to use all his energy on growing big and strong and avoiding these bitches out here! We need him with us, not keeping an eye on volunteers who knew their day job might be a suicide mission. The truth chafes - wear a fucking jockstrap.


"Well, this was a great talk!" I rose suddenly and stretched out, arms rolling backwards languidly and fingers clasping and cracking as I stretched. "Dr. Kougami, Ikkyou-san, Pil..."



I broke off, hastily keeping the rest of the nickname from slipping out with a mental quickness that only came from girls who lived in constant fear of brain theft could truly understand, "--I thank you all for your input, but my team needs to keep its strength up if we're looking an an escort mission on the horizon. I've got kids, metaphorically and spiritually speaking. Their bones need toughening."

For emphasis, I playfully flexed one arm in Sandbag's direction. Good thing that none of the people assembled here were medical doctors. If they were real doctors they might've known that my perfectly carved, divinely proportioned arm muscles actually did not require any work at all from my tough bones in order to flex!

Instead all they did was learn about equations and focus on math problems.

Can you imagine the type of person it takes to build a robot but not follow through by piloting it?

Jee-sus, it's like not asserting yourself when your daughter's boyfriend comes home. You keep it up with that spineless crap, that inviting him to dinner without waving a gun at him kind of crap, and the next thing you know you'll find that same sitting at the table at breakfast the next morning.

Wearing your grandmother's Old Country tablecloth like a toga.

Eating sashimi from her stomach.

Using her cleavage as a fucking soy sauce fountain.


It all kept coming back to food. Fuck, we really needed a meal.

"Kougami knows how to find me if there's anything else you want to make sure we already know," I said cheerfully, putting hands on my hips and grinning at poor old Sandbag.

She almost hadn't made it.

Macross Island, isolated as it was in the South Pacific, had nonetheless become a gigantic hub of activity in the past fortnight. Veritech pilots old and new had been shuttled in from around the world lately in order to fill their squadrons, and Cairo Casablancas was among the final wave of them; there had been some hangup with her file, something about a hang-up in her dual citizenship (so much for a seamless, efficient one world order...) that had nearly left her stuck in Tel Aviv while the SDF-1 left for space without her. She had been cleared (again) for Fox Squadron at the eleventh hour, and so it was that she was now ambling around the busy hangar, seeking out a squadron that had surely gathered up all of its other members but her.

Just my luck.

She had a large duffel bag of her things, including some very breakable bottles that had by the grace of God slipped through customs, slung over one shoulder, and her Aviators were pressed closely to her face, lenses disguising the bleariest of red eyes after the longest of red eye flights. She kept taking one hand and running it through her hair, fixing it and brushing the long, dark strands over one shoulder. Normally she had it tied back, or at least restrained somehow for the purposes of deceiving others regarding its length, but she found herself too wiped out to be assed about something so minor - especially when it was possible that her entire squadron had grouped without her. Her flight lead was probably gonna be one of the ones who reamed people like they did in the Full Metal Jacket days.

That would totally be her luck.

At least there was no way to fit a Veritech in your mouth.

Sure enough, when she found what looked to be her squadron - marked only by the characteristic red and white she'd been told to expect on a handful of their insignia; she'd need to find space on her own jacket for a Fox Squadron emblem of her own - there were already a few pilots gathered up around crates, in various casual poses. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes closed in long-suffering disappointment. She had to be late.

Silently, she began to sidle through the last few wayward bands of mechanics, pilots, and other assorted officials, on her way towards her particular eye of the storm. A few of the pilots were seated on the crates she'd spied, but one or two had remained standing. Cairo remained among them, drawing herself up to her full (if average) height and trying to shake any bleariness from her posture. Because she wasn't exactly sure whether this squad leaned towards uptight or ragtag yet on the Professionalism Alignment chart, she decided to go the True Neutral route - a single salute, directed at the only man present with a clipboard.

Am I being graded?

Oh, shit. When was I supposed to be here?

Wasn't it still 0900? What time zone was this?

"Casablancas," she said simply, in accented English, trying to make it sound like she was introducing herself instead of tepidly asking for confirmation on her own surname. "Cairo Casablancas...sir. My flight was...held up."

Just her luck.
Should have mine done in the next three days, no classwork again until Tuesday after tonight.
No idea if this is going still, but this is the first time I've really had a chance to take a breather and get this wrapped up. F l a m e n c o o o o o o ~

hi dork i'm here to represent neo east timor
If we're able to call dibs I'm super down with my man Odin

Your words, Stoll! Use your words!

At least she was starting to do a better job at letting people know that she was deaf. For the first chunk of her tenure at Max Fire, no one had bothered to even tell me the bitch had busted ears! Can you imagine? I thought she was epileptic! Every time I showed up for drills her hands started doing that Helen Keller no Jutsu shit, and what do I do? Try to be a good Samaritan and clear her mouth of any obstructions so she doesn't choke in the midst of her seizure? Oho, you thought, Shourichi! Earmuffs here just starts waving her hands harder, dares to strike the blood royal in the face while I'm just trying to make sure there's nothing wrong with her tongue, and then even bites my finger! I hate being bitten when I'm good!

I was glad to learn she was deaf, though. Not because I'm an asshole, which I'm not! And not because I don't want anyone having a seizure in midair in sheer awe of my fighting prowess and unchecked human spirit, mind you! I definitely do!

As long as they're kaiju and not humans.

And it's not like I was too thrilled that somehow they'd left that little fucking nugget of info out of her folder, either! Not like it was important or anything, HR!

No, I was happy that Stoll was only deaf because it meant that I got away free and clear with calling her a fucking spaz every chance I got to bitch to Ryoma about my new bite marks. The best thing about deaf chicks is that they can't hear you talk...any...of your shit...



So how was she able to hear me talking to Sadbear just now if she--


--wasn't deaf!?



MOVING ON: Luckily Autumn was on hand to phrase any questions in a decidedly non-deceitful manner, questions which Guac and Ryoma clearly considered well answered. I was more skeptical, though. I put a lot of rounds into one of those fuckers from the front seat of good old Speed Racer last year, sure, but I'd been poring through studies for months since I'd joined Max Fire, and apparently not one serviceman currently enlisted in the JSDF was Corinne Shourichi! And only one Corinne Shourichi currently served in Max Fire! What the fuck were we gonna do with the one we had? Maybe if you gave me a speedboat and an RPG-7 I could make the kaiju rue the day it crawled out of its uterine hell beneath the Earth...but how was I gonna pilot Lifthrasir, babysit the kids, and sing a kaiju motherfucker a Getter Robo firepower lullaby on its way down to its resting place in Atlantis!?

We needed at least another 1/4th of a Corinne Shourichi for that level of multitasking! And I had only ever been imitated, never duplicated!

"--must be something more surefire we can do, right?"

Surefire? Sure! Fire!

"They're support, Hanneman. Support is all they do, besides milking us for Kodak moments and pointing in awe at how good we look in the sunshine. We're the beasts of burden here. We're the ones with the stones. We're fucking surefire. And as soon as we come back with a big load of Etherion, you get to tell everyone fucking-told-ya-so. That's how you set the perfect ideal for other humans - you know your damn role and you come home a high roller! That's what it's all about!"

Coincidentally, I had taped over small portions of my How To Be A Fucking Pillar of Humanity tapes with my How to Run a Fucking Girl's Night manual. They were, however different the occasions, the exact same message, though, so hopefully there wouldn't be any confusion as to what I expected from my little pint-sized posse!
I just need to find time to sit down and do my appearance writeup. Everything else is done.
Ditto for me. Tomorrow's my last day of classes until Tuesday so I should have a clear plate to wrap up history and my fighter.
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