Plank Sinatra

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG] (New)

VERY justice brennan

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk @Crimmy

Brennan Griese's nostrils had flared imperceptibly throughout Umeko's dialogues with the swollen-headed alien that was passing for a magical girl. Those who were too stupid to read the mood of a room or recognize animal instinct would have assumed that Brennan was jealous of the lavish attention that was being heaped on the deformed Kanamin. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Umeko's interest was almost certainly in acquiring a voice changer for herself in time for her next convention trip; any conversation she had with the soul trapped inside that wide-eyed plushie head was intended only to further that goal.

This was different. This wasn't angry at all - it was curious. Brennan Griese smelled someone familiar.

...

"Here, nerd, I got dis," Brennan said amiably, putting on a wide grin and pulling out his wallet. He flipped through the cash notes - the number of which was swollen up substantially from the money he'd withdrawn at the bank the other day - and produced exact change, holding it over to Gandharva without placing it in his hand. He was quietly waiting for the cashier to take it.

"Dere ya go, boyo. Cheers."

Fate/Prisma Connections (the reboot!)

@Krayzikk @Crimmy @Enkryption

So there's these two friends - one's a wiseguy, like me, and the other is Greek. They're having an argument at dinner one night. Magi have similar arguments all the time, but the Italian and the Greek guys aren't magi, so they don't have to worry about "our" kinds of squabbles. The argument goes something like this:

"[x]," says the Greek, naming something noble that the Greeks introduced to humanity.

"[y]," retorts our Italian hero, cheerfully countering with a way that we improved it.

"We built the Parthenon," insists the Greek, pulling up a picture on his phone to prove it. The Italian shrugs and retorts with: "We built the Coliseum."

"We gave you the Olympics!" insists the Greek, drawing the five rings in the air with his fingers like he's casting a rune. The Italian laughs. "We gave you Easter."

"We made mythology popular with our gods." The Greek guy is getting pissed now. "We invented mathematics." Those are both true, but the Italian looks smug when he says: "We have Latin. And we have your gods, too, only they named the planets after ours."

The Greek is really pissed now.

"We invented sex!" he exclaims angrily, and the Italian laughs and gets a big dumb grin on his face.

"Forse, stunad," says the wiseguy, "and we introduced it to women."

---

Il bambino cretino in, Yet another brush with death, or, 'Just when I thought I was out...'

There was a pearl of wisdom in that joke, even for any non-Italians I had confronted in my life. Whenever I told it, most people miss the true point - there is honor and glory to be had in going to the mattresses for what you believe, blazing new trails, even dying bravely. No one died more courageously than an Italian man - but that would only come to pass when he went against his true nature and chose to die at all.

That was still a possibility in my book. I might not even mind, normally. But if I had to go one day, and there was no way around it, it wouldn't be as Dorian Fiordilatte, 3D Animation teacher. I had more to offer to this world than giving everyone passing grades for irrelevant work or giving a few weird shut-ins the know-how to end up as virtual porn directors. And I certainly couldn't die while there were a couple of kids who still needed to clear out.

I didn't come all this way just to let kids die. That was, in fact, the opposite of the whole idea.

With a speed that warmed my heart and a triumphant display of pig-evading acumen, Ryou had gauged the situation without any input from her "betters" (read: teachers, one of whom, aka yours truly, had prepared for a day like this and was searching his bag, while the other gazed longingly at another student's chest before turning to see what I was up to) and decided to take the quick path out of the school. I watched her dip out the window, the shards of broken glass cutting her uniform in various shredding patterns. It looked like someone had taken scissors to her top. Ryou would have liked that. Scissors.

More importantly, she had created a mostly-cleared avenue of escape now, just in time for me to produce the bottle of whiskey I'd been hiding in my bag, as well as a single glass. I opened it up and poured just enough to steel Mirimoto's nerves. It probably would have been better not to give it to him, especially with petrified students roaming around susceptible to noise. But the window had already been busted out, and if he was going to die - which, let's not fuck about here, chances were high would come to pass - it would be better to die with some courage and fire in his blood.

"Per cent'anni, Doc," I instructed him, sliding the glass over as I took a quick draft myself from the neck of the bottle. "You'll thank me when you don't feel the impact. You first, Lia. Be smarter than her. Try and clear any spare glass off the pane or sides of the frame before you jump. Then us, Morimoto-san. Don't break your ankles. You're going to want to run."

Fate/Prisma Connections (the reboot!)

Dorian and Cú Chulainn

Appearance/Image:

Appearance

Name: Dorian Fiordilatte
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Height/Weight: 6’3, 185 lbs / 191 cm, 84 kg
Personality: It’s natural for a homeroom teacher to want his students to do well, and Dorian Fiordilatte of Fudomine Academy’s Class 3-D is no exception. A cheerful, playful young man who doesn’t act very far removed from his school days, he often makes himself available for students to come to him with concerns or questions about their class material or day-to-day life. When asked about himself, his answers are vague, featuring detailed references to foreign travels but not much insight as to who he is as a person. This has led to rumors throughout school that paint a picture of Fiordilatte as a young, irresponsible foreigner - a Mediterranean playboy who frequently picks fights in big cities, burns through short-term relationships, or perhaps even works as some sort of government agent. For his part, Fiordilatte finds the tales of his exploits hilarious, and never discounts or encourages any of them. He prefers to just drift through his day and let people guess what he’s up to in the interim.
Character Alignment: Chaotic Good
Class Affinity: Shielder
Background: Born to a bloodline of Mediterranean magi, Dorian represents the fifth generation of Fiordilatte magi and the second to be affiliated with the Mage’s Association. Though his lineage is relatively young by the definition of the Clock Tower, his inventive, new-age use of runes and his guile helped him rise high in his studies at the Department of Modern Magecraft. He only spends chunks of time in London now, preferring instead to travel the world.

To hear him tell it, those travels took him - seemingly without much rhyme or reason - to Japan, where he - seemingly on a lark - took up a job as an easygoing, carefree homeroom teacher despite the fact that he and his students were born during the same period of popular trends. While he seems content in his position for now, it seems unlikely that he considers the position to be long-term, and only his private reasons for staying put have kept him from already finding the next big adventure of his life.
Occupation: Homeroom Teacher, Class 3-D
Known Magic (If Any): Dorian is a canny practitioner of Rune magic, which lends him a strong compatibility with his Class Card’s Heroic Spirit despite his relative inexperience with it. He carries an Azoth Sword, a common Mystic Code among mages in the Association, to channel and amplify his cast spells.
Special Talents/Hobbies: The greatest pleasures in Dorian’s life are testing classic or antique cars around the tracks of his home country, or viewing 35mm prints of old movies when they hit theaters in reruns. With neither of those being options in Japan, his activities are mostly unknown outside of school. He does like to shop, though.
Ambition: To meet as many interesting people and see as many incredible things as possible; succinctly, Dorian’s ambition is to live an exciting life as long as he can.

Servant Cards

Lawful Neutral Cú Chulainn
STR: B (A) AGI: D (C) END: B (A) MAN: C- (B-) LUK: E (D) NP: B- (B++) / B- (B)
Noble Phantasms:

Dubán: Mighty Black Shield, Deflect Death on the Wind
Type: Barrier
Dubán was the greatest shield forged for any man of Ulster, acquired by Cú Chulainn during his time as Scáthach’s pupil. On its impenetrable black surface are thorns similar to those of Curruid’s skull, or the set of demonic spears that skull fashioned. The shield acts as a Bounded Field, withstanding almost any melee attack deployed against it, while Cú Chulainn’s knowledge of Runes and Protection from Arrows skill render projectiles effectively useless against him. The combination makes him a fearsome defensive Servant.

Gáe Bolg: Fierce Black Shield, Carry Death on the Wind
Type: Anti-Unit
Gáe Bolg was a technique taught only to Cú Chulainn by his master, Scáthach, to symbolize his mastery of her teachings. Though as a Lancer he utilizes this technique through a piercing or throwing attack with his spear, as originally taught, the Gáe Bolg technique can also be applied by Dubán. When thrown, the shield’s thorns, carved from Curruid’s skull in the same manner as Cú Chulainn’s spear, will strike and gouge an enemy’s chest, thorns planting themselves within the target’s body and seeking to gouge the heart. In a way, the shield - a unique weapon dreamt and forged by the finest smiths of Ulster - is a more unique weapon than the original demonic spear, thus it could be argued that Dubán’s throwing technique is deadlier than that of the original crimson spear.

Include: The shield of Cú Chulainn is manifested.
Install: Cú Chulainn’s full range of abilities, including his Noble Phantasms and his rune magic, are unlocked for the user.
Install Skills:

Class Skills
Self-Field Defense - Rank C (B): A Class Skill of the rare Shielder class, at its maximum rank the field of protection for allies grows wider and Cú Chulainn himself is included in the sphere. At its current rank, he excludes himself as a target.
Magic Resistance - Rank C
Divinity - Rank B: Cú Chulainn was a demigod in life, born of the sun god Lugh, while his mother was the younger sister of Conchobar.

Personal Skills
Battle Continuation - Rank B+ (A): In life, Cú Chulainn fought to the bitter end, tying himself to a tree to continue facing his enemies as the Morrigan, who loved him, looked on. Giving up or dying easily is not in his nature.

Rune Magic - Rank C (B): While in his Lancer form he disdains using his knowledge of Norse runes, Cú Chulainn in his Shielder form prefers to utilize them in a particularly wily form of defense.

Protection From Arrows - Rank B+ (EX): In his Shielder form, Protection from Arrows gains a parameter due to his purely defensive nature, and the inability of any bowman to fell the man who carried the black shield of Ulster.

Disengage - Rank D (C+): Similarly, his Shielder form gives his Disengage parameters a mild boost, allowing him to hunker behind Dubán for defense as conditions become more favorable for him.

Install Appearance: While installed, the master’s hair will turn a combination of Cú Chulainn’s blue hair and their own natural hair color, leading from mild colors to a midnight blue-black. They will also don the blue bodysuit of the Prince of Light and his shoulder pauldrons, as their eyes darken into a bloody red color. Runic earrings similar to Cú Chulainn’s catalyst as a Servant may also appear, marked in runes.
Servant Biography: Born Sétanta, demigod Prince of Light in Irish mythology, Cú Chulainn lived a short, glorious life - by turns serving as the guard dog of Culann, a member of the rowdy Red Branch Knights, greatest pupil in the Land of Shadows, and defender of Ulster against the forces of Queen Medb and Connacht. Brought low only when he was tricked into breaking several geas against him, it is no stretch that Ireland’s Prince of Light is considered one of its greatest heroes; he is celebrated there as the country’s greatest and proudest champion. Such is his renown and the depths of his expertise that he can be summoned as multiple classes, chief among them Lancer.
Servant Personality: A rowdy, rambunctious man with a keen sense of honor and a hot temper, Cú Chulainn is constantly seeking an honorable fight. If he can’t find one, he will pick one. He is not, however, bloodthirsty, and his nature as a hero demands that he defend the weak - urges that are only amplified by his nature as a Shielder. He will tolerate dishonorable Masters, but only to a point - thankfully, his compatibility with his current Class Card user is good, thanks to their shared knowledge (and disdain for casting) runes, even if that Master is a bit too laid-back and methodical for Cú Chulainn’s liking. Such methods are to be applied during battle, not while waiting for one.

He also loves dogs.

NEON GODS [Japanese Country Cyberpunk]

CS should be done within a couple of days, I already have an idea down.

NEON GODS [Japanese Cyberpunk]

I'm totally interested.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

@Krayzikk @Kaithas @NaraK

Goofiness.

Dustiness.

Ridiculousness.

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?"

Oh no! Another Hero Academia RP!

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.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

VIVE

"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's...equipment.

"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.

A Certain Variegated Pseudepigraphum [Toaru/Raildex RPG]

@Krayzikk @Crimmy

Right.

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?"