Avatar of Plank Sinatra

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2 yrs ago
Current deconstructions are fake lol
1 like
3 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
3 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
3 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
3 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

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VERY justice brennan


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 He flipped through the cash notes - the number of which was swollen up substantially from the money he'd withdrawn at the bank the other day - and produced exact change, holding it over to Gandharva without placing it in his hand.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."
@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."
CS should be done within a couple of days, I already have an idea down.
I'm totally interested.


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?"
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.
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