Avatar of Plank Sinatra

Status

Recent Statuses

4 yrs ago
Current deconstructions are fake lol
1 like
5 yrs ago
"return of the mack, you know that i'll be back." in his bed, joe biden lurches awake, wild-eyed. many a year he has watched, waited for the mack's return. hes as ready as he will ever be. he t-poses
5 yrs ago
Today Show 9-11-01 ~ Live on NBC as Tragedy Occurred [s l o w e d + r e v e r b]
1 like
5 yrs ago
40 hours into the mass effect remaster. gameplay is good but not sold on the plot changes. wish garrus would stop saying "reaper? i hardly know her!" laugh track on the normandy is a weird choice too
6 likes
5 yrs ago
fine, since you asked so nicely officer, i will confess my crimes. since i was seven years old i have refused to match any socks in my sock drawer. i practice sock hookup culture. i am a slut
7 likes

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Whirrrrrrrrrrr.

DRU had done it. Her faithful little robot colt had gotten her to the truck, and her ethereal, beautiful Persona had been a better protector than Saitou could ever ask. Source of the golden fog. With eleven - no, ten and a half; with a CLANG of a soda bottle against the shambling corpse of the bifurcated robot, the legion lost another half an automaton - other mechanized delivery boys bearing down on her, time had been of the essence. Together, girl, Persona, and robot had done it.

In time to save burger boy and guitar girl? With any luck. Perhaps she had found the Ark of the Covenant.

That may not be such a good thing.

"Kaguya-hime..." she whispered again. "I'm not hungry anymore."

She could see the dents from where the DRU had burst through the back of the truck. No flames touched this part of the downed vehicle; just golden fog and noxious black smoke.

What was she supposed to do now?

Should I be scared? Daisuke's not. Guitar girl is not. My parents wouldn't be. What was she, if not the sum of those who loved her?

She would channel them all. Like Captain Planet. From the thought of those she loved, combined, she derived strength. There was no room for fear.

She reached for her cell phone, turned the screen's brightness up to max, and then turned on the flashlight on the back of the device. Slowly, she lowered it into the tear left by the DRU legion...and then dropped the phone in altogether, to illuminate the back of the truck.






just storing this for a rainy day
Well looks like all the other dweebs joined again.

Guess I gotta decide whether I'm bringing back Kaz or Zaheen.


charisma at work

Dallas Grenier - All of the Shawshank, None of the Redemption

@Write - Evaluating


skrchskrchskrchskrchskrchskrchskrch

Stop!

He had company. Fuck! The switchblade he was discreetly using to saw away wooden desk from metal chair stopped scraping as discreetly as could be managed. Dallas flicked his wrist under the desk and pocketed the knife before leaning back and tousling the blue-highlighted bangs in his dark hair. She was crouching down to serve at his eye level, instead of plopping down. Dallas had been on the streets too long not to surmise it had something to do with the fact that she'd cracked the tile just by pulling herself out of her chair. Jumping rope probably caused Richter scale fuckery on an enhanced scale. Status: do not fuck. Potential for planetary pole reversal.

...

Status is currently undergoing appeals process.


"I don't know, I kind of like the idea of being a superhero. All the movie deals these days, who knows? I got a face for the screen. I got to have input on my own super suit, ain't nobody gonna have a reason to complain there. Besides, maybe heroism's hella my speed and I just don't know it yet. Beating up the rich. Stopping the dastardly. Volunteering with the elderly. Sounds titillating." Dallas tilted his head at the newcomer and finally smiled lazily. "I'm Dallas. Quoi de beau, Happy Feet?"

Dallas Grenier - Whore of the Orient

Morning, sunshine.


After so long being smacked in the ass by increasingly early sunsets in Europe...there was something peaceful about the Land of the Rising Sun. Like from here, mornings couldn't possibly come earlier. It was solace - like when you start feeling better under torture because it can't get worse. Or the ten minutes after you come where you feel Zen enough to do your calculus homework.

Was there calculus homework at this place? He couldn't imagine that a place where they would be learning to master their bodies, stop evil in its tracks, and pull kittens from trees would care much about putting letters in their math. And if they did, well...God gave everyone the right to come for a reason, Dal guessed.

He rose unsteadily on the plastic-wrapped couch, rubbing his bare neck with a loathsome wakefulness. Part of being comprised of maybe 30-50% clocks was that you were never, ever, ever going to miss a goddamn deadline. Between Dad's schedule and his Quirk, the last time he'd slept in was the last time he could still get his ass beat for coming home from school with one out of five behavior stars. Back when he still needed a reason to get his ass beat.

They were the best of times.

Dallas swiveled into a sitting position, hearing his slim legs drag on the plastic with a squeak that made him wince. There were plenty of advantages to living in an unused apartment in the center of a floor of unused apartments - cheap utilities, place to sleep, no need to decorate - but the sleeping arrangements made him wonder why he even tried to get his usual three or four hours of beauty sleep anyway. He might as well have parked his lithe ass on the coffee table in his quest for z's. At least he could move around without squeaking like a hinge.

He took a deep breath through his nose.

Let it out, Dally boy. Nice and slow. Layers can always be torn right off, you know that.

He blinked.

Smiled as awareness seeped in. Today was the day. Brave High. He'd finally weaved a lie good enough to weasel his way in. Admitting a shallow con or two usually took people off guard enough to drop the big one. People always believe the truths that come out the most reluctantly, and this was the big one - a past that was real enough to get him into the school of his dreams.

He was gonna be a superhero. In a year, they'd be slapping posters of him over Nightwing's. In three years, Wonder Woman's. Goals.

And as much as he'd love to fight crime in his Calvins...

Today, I'm going to be presentable.

***

Oh.

Oh God.

Why did he try this.

Everyone was so reserved here. All that anime had lied to him - people didn't do shit for dick in the way of socializing here! In Europe, they said hello with three words, a kiss on each cheek and a healthy game of grab-ass. And Dallas loved grab-ass. Shit, he would even kill for a good old fashioned American-style traffic jam in the hallway, at least it would make him think these Imperial shitheels liked talking to each other!

And these desks! As soon as Dallas walked into senior homeroom, he knew something was wrong. Granted, he had never stepped foot in a high school - and had been thrown out of middle school faster than a handsy art teacher - but he was pretty sure that the "student desks" were supposed to be ergonomic, re-purposed from days on the set of torture porn movies. The second he sat down and tried to push his chair back from his desk, only to find with horror that his seat was hooked to the preacher's-dick-tiny square table in front of him by a thick metal beam, he had to suppress a panicked scream.

He felt like he was in Silence of the Lambs, trying to get comfy in this thing. And he didn't even eat people.

...

Well...lately.

It's the greatest of men who can realize their mistakes the earliest...and right now, Dallas Grenier was feeling pretty fucking great.

Hero school.

How did this sound like a good idea, again?
Tentatively locking down daughter of Ares. Friends of mine might be interested in son of Ares and daughter of Athena, too, so I'll post for them if that's okay.

© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet