Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current Imagine the myopia to think that rappers don't suffer from using as much as any random fuck. Mac was open in his music about his struggles with substance abuse. So was Peep. It's not glamorized.
3 mos ago
oh to be as cool as pericles-sama....but he'd never notice a fledgling democracy like me....
4 mos ago
"He's dead. You killed him when you left the door open with the air conditioner running."
4 mos ago
x was worse than dogshit, but he had people who loved him in spite of that. my thoughts are with them
8 mos ago
ric flair drip, go "wooooo" on a bitch
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CS should be done within a couple of days, I already have an idea down.
I'm totally interested.




To be fucking around in the woods, where there were witch covens and ghosts and little goblins that ate white children...

She had thought this mission would be about killing another giant Grimm. Clearly Lauren had expected too much from her team, all of whom universally regarded seasoning as she regarded the occult, and all of whom seemed perfectly comfortable with this rank fuckery of the very first house, of the first and second cause. No doubt it seemed like a perfectly good idea to Ben, who had grown up in these woods while avoiding any instances of baby snatching or having sperm extracted for homunculi or any such shit. At least, as far as he'd told them. Sangue was a feral child, so she would probably fit in fine here too. But Amy and Lauren, both city girls, were going to be at a disadvantage as they yearned for anything but haunted-ass woods.

At least, Lauren yearned for anything but haunted-ass woods. Reflecting, she thought to herself that it was lucky she'd brought Hautdesert along on this mission - even though she had yet to debut it, walking barehanded with a pack slung over her shoulder.

I'll tear this whole fucking forest down, Cap be damned. Fuck an ent or a goblin or a Lorax.

Fuck, she'd need a whole weekend of unwinding after this. If she wasn't going to find some manner of wild threesome-centric detox in the dorm, maybe a call to her other main bitch would do the trick. She had options at Beacon.

Options like not being fucking possessed or ghouled upon.

What was she supposed to do, talk? Talking would alleviate her mild anxiety, but the ones who talked too much always bit it in the movies, too. Her blackness was already a stat handicap she'd had to survive with police and their brewery mission. When would her luck run out?

Oh, fuck this.

"So, Cap!" the right flank crowed, grinning amiably as she nudged him in his own right flank. "You were born in one of these trees, huh? Which part of the forest do they pluck the little white babies from? No wonder you never saw a black girl in a place like this. I'm surprised that people don't fuck squirrels out here."

Her eyes shifted from the treeline to the back of Ben's head.

"They...don't, right?"
I’m interested in this if there’s room. So is a friend of mine, in case he can’t post in here at the moment.

"Hey, look, the cute fascist brought some carry-on," Iris Fouquet giggled. The mountaineer's long, tanned legs were crossed at the ankle and kicked playfully, cutting a pendulum's arc in front of her far enough to measure furniture. "Who wants to frisk him? Nobody? Dibs."

Viv's eyes trailed back to the approaching team, and the Mistralian captain sucked in her breath. Evangeline looked up and squealed.

"What the fuck?" Pressman asked incredulously.

"We're friends," Evan sang. "Viv, I'm gonna have another friend. What's the biggest gun you think he's got in there?"

"I'll find out."

Jericho Piper had approached with a duffel bag in each hand, flanked by his teammates. Thankfully, they seemed prone to wakefulness. Viv's eyes lingered for a second on the shorter boy to Jericho's right. He wasn't worthy of much appraisal, dressed in a perfectly mundane hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. They were perfect post-revolutionary clothes, which might have been what drew Pressman to him - either that or her cartoon perversions, anyway.

Maybe she shouldn't judge. She hated judging people. After all, Viv could tell the Atlesian was doing the exact same shit to her. His face was expressionless, as much of a copper death mask as it had been when he'd previously taunted her and her girls. Now his stoicism seemed almost smug. The vibe was only compounded when he leaned down to the shortest person on the team - a Faunus girl with majestic snowy wings - and muttered to her, turning his head so that his mouth was hidden by her ear. The girl's wide grin told her everything.

"Piper." Viv was determined to stay in control, standing up to draw his gaze. She was shorter than him only by an inch or two, and she felt more confident as she realized how close they were to standing on equal ground. "We're losing nighttime. Do you have enough munitions now? Were you planning on survivors?"

"You said heavy."

"This moron said heavy." Viv's boot flicked backwards slightly to kick the calf of the girl she'd set down on the crates they were using for makeshift seats. She continued speaking over the resultant whine. "As I recall, we needed to have a discussion as team capta--"

"Okay Viv," said Jericho Piper blankly. He had already lifted one duffel bag and tossed it beside Evangeline. "Your moron has a knight's instincts. I'll trade you for mine when we're deploying."

Behind the fascist, the Faunus and the shōnen shared a confused glance. It told Viv all she needed to know about the state of morons on their support team. She would need to reassure Evan of her own competence after a few hours of these fucking lackeys. Not that Pressman cared. She was frowning at the manlet like a new cuisine she was unsure of sampling. Given that the only males she'd ever touched were in dating simulators or frozen still in men's departments, that was probably an apt analogy.

Come to think of it, she was thankful for Evan's gayness. She was growing furious with half of her team leering at the pretty boy Atlesian.


But she couldn't at all abide the way her Evan was leering at that fascist'

"I'll make that trade," Viv said. "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 knight echoed.

After the two grouchy bitches had formed their compact outside the airship, Veronique Pressman had assumed that the two teams would be forced to mingle, sitting together with their "operational partners" for the duration of the airship ride down to the port. Thankfully, she had figured incorrectly. The Atlesian prick had chosen to sit next to his partner with the wings, reluctantly sharing one of his earbuds a few minutes after takeoff when she asked what he was listening to.

That left Viv free to talk to Evan, who had kept the duffel bag her "operational partner" had proffered and was using it to prop up her head while Viv propped up her shorts-clad lower half. Veronique watched them with outright revulsion. She hadn't seen a gay combination that volatile since styrofoam and gasoline. Adding a bunch of Atlesian firearms in the mix to get jealous over was bound to lead to some particularly punitive hate sex in the dorm bathroom that night.

Fucking nauseating.

Iris, ever the flexible friendmaker, had sidled up to the silent fourth member of JBLS and started chatting her up. That left one person left for her to sit next to on their side of the rectangular cargo bay. So, steeling her courage and preparing to teach the charm school crash course from hell if she was recognized, she sat down next to the hoodie-clad Shiroyaman.

"Bonsoir," Pressman muttered darkly. Normally the dull roar of an airship's movement, and the rattling of its cargo inside a bay, would have masked her words, requiring her to speak up. Thankfully, Beacon's fleet ran a little smoother than that, so she could stick to her normal, quieter tone of voice.


He'd forgotten about promising her a trip to the convention. Umeko liked to go to these things fairly often, generally with some kind of costume or seeking some kind of collector's merchandise. Mecha conventions, robotics displays, magical girls...her tastes looked varied at first glance, but all of them centered around the same core principle: Kawaguchi Umeko wanted to be a superhero. Unfortunately, that generally meant that she wanted Brennan tagging along. Such was the case this morning.

While Umeko was fixing up the last details of her costume, Brennan was showering and getting ready. He refused to dress up himself, although Umeko's occasional entreaties were gradually growing less occasional and more convincing. He mostly stuck to chaperoning her, holding merchandise, taking pictures, and sizing up the other magical girls to see who could give his the most competition. He was, in short, the superhero love interest. Pure eye candy. Whatever.

He was ready to go in record time; in fact, he had probably managed to get dress faster than Umeko had finished putting the touches on her costume. He walked out and plopped down on top of their counter with a cheerful sigh and a grin. The biggest concession he'd given his otaku partner was dressing to complement her outfit; his shirt today was a cool cyan, relaxing and casual for the end of summer. His beaten up phone sat in the pocket of his vest, weighing it down. He hadn't gotten around to grabbing a new one yet.

"Ey, lass, whatcha say to some cof-OI!"

Needless to say, she didn't want coffee. She didn't even want to apologize for yanking on his shirt's collar on her way out of the apartment. Kawaguchi Umeko acted like a head on his shoulder as they took the bus to the Dianoid would be enough to cool off his surly temper.


It was helping. Very slightly. Slightly enough that his mind left his shirt and started to wander again as they passed the bus route where they'd found the body the other night. As the bus took them along the main street back to the Dianoid, Brennan found his gaze drifting again and again. The blood splatters had been scrubbed clean from the streets and sidewalks, and by now the pipes in the alleys had been repaired after Brennan's esper powers had done a number on them. His wary stare caught the alleyway where he'd cornered the body thief, and Brennan wondered if anyone had thought to scrub for evidence there.

It would be worth a look later that night. But for now...

The Dianoid.

Kanacon. Academy City's pre-eminent gathering for all things Magical Powered Kanamin, Magical Powered Kanamin Integral, and another dozen ridiculous spinoffs with ridiculous crossovers and even more ridiculous magical girls. Today, they were all infesting the Dianoid, along with hundreds of cosplayers that idolized them all.

"I'm goonna lose ya in dis crowd," he grumbled to Kawaguchi beside him, arms crossed across his chest. "D'you wanna come wit' me 'n' look for da Magi☆Mint Chip? Or am I loogin' dat around by meself all day?"

"White Devil coming in hot! Dead ahead, B!"

The words of Noel du Acier, the plucky bridge bunny aboard VSS Sapphire Jubilee, sounded alarmed as they rang out in the cockpit of Brennan's Ekaterina IV. She was nervous for good reason; the White Devil was the ace of her ship, the JS Blue Destiny, which was a nerdy and dumb name for a ship that would never, ever reach Venus, Tree Diagram, or even the roof of their apartment building half as well as Jubilee would. But just as his ship's name and specs proved superior, so too would the Irish warrior's piloting.

Two beam rifle shots lanced through the vacuum, crackling as the directed energy approached with murderous intent. His custom Ekaterina easily dodged and returned fire, although he too doubted they would do too much to her either. The White Devil took pride in her mech, and as loathe as he was to admit it, she was a superb pilot herself. That was the way he liked it.

"̟̓̓̈́W̦͍̗̰̪̠̦͗ͦ͑̃̉͊̀̇ͫH̜̰͇̗̹̟͍̖̅I̻͇̘̟͕͔̭̗̅̑͊ͯ̄͊T̙̙̲̑̆̉̍͒̀ͤͥͩE̖͌̽ͭ̂͐̇̚ ̭̟̤͇̤̥̠͗̂͛͛̋̏D̟͓̓ͨ̐͗͌ͬ̾Ȅ̤̟̣̳͎̊V̟̳̣̖͒͋͊I͙̪͔̩͖͍͉͔͐͊̊ͫͯL̜̞̞ͯͨͤͨ̀!͍̟͈͕͚͍̒̄ͣͬ͋"̗͔̀ he screamed, leaning forward in his cockpit. "̹̯̰̝͇̞̝ͣͤ͐̾̈S͎͎̦̦͗ͬͮͣ̔ͣ̊̈͂H̼̯́̐O͔̬̘ͫ̊̇ͬ͑̏ͪW̗̉̓̒ͫͩ ͍̳̞͉̜̭̭̐ͥ̋ͬͣ͊ͥͧY̲̠̞̥͙̑́̔̇̊̈́̔O̝̜̣̍̓̇̃͛̆̉ͦU̳͉̯̔ͩͪR̲͎̬ͣ́S͓̼̣̙ͤ̒E͇͍̹̬̗̣͓͉͚ͣͬL̯̮͍̼͗͗ͪ̎ͪ̾ͯ̚F͎̲̼̩̜͗ͯ̈́ͤ̄̾!̜̻̭̊ͧ ̹̭̦͇̖ͫ͆͌ͫͅW̬͕̺̱̗͕̬͚͎ͨH͍̰͎̳͚͖̰̄̌̓ͯͩ͌̂̍I̤̥ͪ̾̈́͊͌̾ͅT̟͙̗̙͇̝͇̖ͣ̏̌̈̀̚Ḙ̰̯ͭͤ̑̎ͫͭ͐́ͪ ̤̖̯͈͐͊ͭͩ̌D̳̭̫͛̅̆̈́̾Ḙ̠͎̯̯̘̿ͧV͍̟̼̞̪ͭ͌͗͊̽̒͐̇Ï̲͍̟L̰̺̲͚̜̖͊̉ͅ!͕̪̖̮͖͖̳̞ͭͣ̔̽̄̿̐"͎̲̙̟̋ͣͭ͂̚



What the hell? How dense were the Garbanzo particles around here? Why couldn't he--

And wher--

Was the enemy ace hiding from him?

"̡͂ͪ̽͏͇̣͉̮̩̪W̸̢̢̡̞̫̳̮̌̿̊̿͂͌̌̂̋͐̾H̴̵̦͉̱̠̱̘̞͓̋̆͐̅͂̕͟Į̵̲̯͇͓̭̪̪̩̦̺̪͇͋ͩ̈ͯ́͢T̵̶̵̙̭̮̦̼̤̠̟̺ͣͪ͌̽̓̀̊Ê̴̖͙̥̱̫̮̜͓̪̜͚͙͇̇͌ͥ͟ ̡̪̟̠̭͌̓̔̀̓ͧ̿̃͗̈̉͗ͤ͂̇͐ͮ͌̿̕͘͝D̵̈́̆͐ͬ̌͑̇̿ͮ̓ͮ͢҉̞͓͙̖̺͉͓̜̣̯͇̝̻͖͓̜̭̜́͡ͅȄ̘̞̬̰̣̭͖̬̩̭͙̣̭̠̹̦ͧ̿͐̀̀͛̆ͫ̀̀͢͠V̶̶̨̪̞͖̜̻̺̯͍ͥ͌̄͒̌̽ͦͣͭ͂̂̓ͤ̄ͫ̾̏̓̽İ̶̵̲̺͍̳ͬ̃ͥ̿̀Ļ̷̱̲̯̩̭̹̭̳̦̭̰͉̜̭̯͉̬͈ͮ̑̉̔̂ͨ̀́̎͌̓͝!̵̧̇̄ͬ̾̆̒͐ͥͩ̿̔͊͝҉̳̖̦͙͖̘̗̜"̸̶̨̯̦̙̻̜̺̲̹̟̯͍̜̦̤ͮ͐͋̑̔ͫ̈́̔̋̽̕


His eyes snapped open. Umeko Kawaguchi was standing over him. Or at least, it looked like Umeko Kawaguchi...


"What the that?"

”Wha? I live with one, ya fookin’ moran. Always shriekin’ what a fookin’ superhero y’are. How could I not know?”

Ahhh, that wasn’t fair. She just loved justice. Brennan began scrolling through the article on the woman’s murder, giving his girlfriend a wide, irritatingly playful smile to take the sting from his retort.

”Says ‘ere our bird was a journo. Dat’s never a good sign.”
Would we be able to pair with the same player on both factions?

"Fook dat. You don't need more models."

Brennan was scrolling through the article on Kiara Vinke through the cracked screen of his phone, grimacing every time the touchscreen refused to respond or the phone would lock up. He probably should have thought to leave it in rice overnight, but there was only so much one could do about moisture in a phone when it had been willingly power-fucked by a pressurized pipe burst. He made sure to glean over every sentence twice as it passed through the non-cracked portions of his screen, just to glean any additional info he could from it.

"Spoiled chuunibyou. I'll buy ya a jacket tonight. Chuunis love jackets. And I wanna return to da scene of da crime anyway."
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