Status

Recent Statuses

7 mos ago
My grandfather had the heart of a lion and a lifetime ban from the Central Park Zoo. Rest in peace you strange, strange man.
18 likes
10 mos ago
My girlfriend is always stealing my t-shirts and sweaters... But if I take one of her dresses, suddenly "we need to talk".
31 likes
1 yr ago
I read recipes the same way I read science fiction. I get to the end and I think, "Well, that's not going to happen."
9 likes
2 yrs ago
My ex girlfriend had this really weird fetish. She used to like to dress up like herself, and act like a fucking bitch all the time.
11 likes
2 yrs ago
“I have 3 kids and no money, why I can’t I have no kids and 3 money.” -Homer Simpson
11 likes

Bio



I love writing when I have the time and motivation for it. My posting frequency is generally one or two times a week on average. Supernatural, Horror and Fantasy are usually the genres I hang around most, but I'm not afraid to experiment with something new. I've made a lot great friends here, many of whom I met when creating the Red Hood universe, and am always looking forward to making more.

I tend to be a little raunchy and crude at times but if you can handle that, you'll have a heck of an RP buddy in me!

The Red Hoods: Rebirth
The Red Hoods: Initiates
The Red Hoods: Genesis
Red Dead Reckoning
X-Men: Avalon Rising
X-Men: The New Era
Cold Front: Tacitum
Crime & Devilry
Welcome to Ashton
The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters
TWD: Hell On Earth
Rebellion
Haven for the Inhuman
Animalia
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Drake: Inextinguishable

:+:+:+:

Magnificent Bastards: The Many Faces of RedVII

Most Recent Posts

@Martian No worries, Martian. I've been feeling down in the dumps, too. Thank you for the update. I hope things get better for you. 3:

@RedXIII@Martian@IronPhinx@Zanavy@Argetlam350@Myling@BizarreLolli
I have a discord and would be happy to make one if there is interest for it. =)


Sounds great!
Happy Saturday! Anyone interested in Discord?
Happy Saturday!! Anyone interested in Discord?

Location: Eukary Quad | Interactions: @BizarreLolli


"A little longer than I'd like," Vance offered with a crooked grin. "The university and I have a sort of love/hate relationship, but I can't argue with the fact that it has its perks," he said with a quick squint of the eyes.

"Lobelia, huh? Well maybe you can help me, Lobelia," Vance pondered aloud as he slowly cocked his head to the side. "My nights have just been missing something, and I like to try new things." He let a beat pass before adding "...The Wolf Pack. The bar I can't stop hearing about. Ever been?" His brow raised playfully as he posed the question.



Where There's Smoke...


"Empty the register! And you, Fuck-o! Hand over the wallet!"

Fuck-o? While Drake tried to contemplate the term, he stared down the barrel of the robber's glock. As he looked at the gun's wielder, he couldn't help but think about the wanted posters that would be up on the walls at local police stations. The man was morbidly obese and dressed in dirty blue overalls. The pantyhose he wore over his face hardly distorted any of his features and certainly did nothing to hide the great bushy handlebar mustache that looked like a large furry caterpillar had died on his lip. The Walrus Bandit, Drake finally decided to himself. Surely that would be an apt moniker.

Drake's gaze was steel and the fact that his eyes were two different colors usually gave people pause as soon as they noticed. It seemed as though the crook was in that expected state of mild shock just now as he looked on at Drake's crimson and azure irises. The young man reached back behind himself, his black lather jacket making some noise at the material rubbed against itself. His fingertips slid into the back pocket of his blue jeans and retrieved a well worn wallet. Drake's movements were slow as not to give The Walrus any reason to act irrationally. He slowly opened it up in his hands and started to retrieve the money within. As he looked down, he could see his student ID nestled in one of the clear card sleeves for easy display.

The Ashford Institute for the Gifted. His picture showcased a goofier version of himself who thought it would be funny to rear back one side of his lips and make a silly face before the camera snapped the photo. When Drake realized he was different, this was the institution he ran to for insight, training and sanctuary. The world has a history of fearing change and the rising mutant population didn't help matters. People young and old began to discover latent supernatural abilities. Some could control their powers better than others. The institution was designed to shelter those wayward, special souls and teach them how they, too, could learn to master their unique abilities and, even more, use those gifts for the good of the world.

At least, that was the sales pitch.

"Easy, friend," Drake said as he opened the back half of the wallet and exposed what amounted to $37 in paper bills. "There's not a lot there, but it's literally all I've got." The Walrus looked at the wallet with disappointment but quickly snatched it up anyway before returning his attention, and his aim, to the clerk.

"Hurry up, I said!" You could just tell that if the pantyhose weren't there, this man would be spitting everytime he talked. He had a sort of speech impediment you often see the morbidly obese when the fat in your cheeks start shrinking the available space inside of your mouth. The clerk nervously obeyed. The peach fuzz mustache that he displayed so openly was evidence toward the fact that this poor soul was young and he certainly wasn't getting paid enough to put up with these sorts of shenanigans. Beads of sweat had already formed on the college aged employee as he shuffled to get all of the money from his open cash register into the bag that The Walrus had provided.



Oh, right. That. Drake furrowed his eyebrows. It was a voice he was all too familiar with and one that no one else in the store could have possibly heard. That raspy, gravelly, abhorrent voice belonged to a hitchhiker in his mind. The entity within had made itself known for about a month now, though it never offered an introduction. Drake had done some independent research and even sought the aid of his abnormally gifted friends, such as a young woman named Aya, in order to find out who the alien consciousness was and what could possibly be its intention. Truth be told, it was the driving force behind Drake's abandonment of Ashford's Institute. He needed answers and they couldn't provide them so now he was out on his own chasing shadows and hoping for clues.

Despite it's intrusion, the voice did have a point. Drake could feel his hands curling into fists. The clerk, a nervous mess, finally offered the filled bag back to The Walrus with hands that shook like leaves in autumn. The bandit snorted and snatched it up with his free hand before starting to make his way toward the store exit. The only thing in his was was Drake, himself.

"Listen, I know I'm giving you mixed signals," Drake began, his emptied wallet still in his hand being crushed between his balled up fingers as the temperature of his skin began to rise. "But I'm going to need my money back. And also, toss the kid back his bag."



The robber took a small step forward and turned his glock sideways, mimicking a Hollywood gangster grip. "You best get movin', boy, before I start puttin' holes in ya!" a mirage-like aura began to form around Drake's shape as the heat rose around him, venting out of his pores.

"Final warning." Drake's statement was simple and to the point. It wasn't a threat, it was a matter of fact.

"Eat a dick, Fuck-o!" It was an odd choice for one's last words. Before The Walrus could pull the trigger and make good on his promise, Drake fired first. His empty hand shot out as he extended his palm to face the crook. At it's center erupted a horizontal tornado of flame that grew in mass the more distance it traveled.

The face pantyhose was the first victim, almost instantly disappearing one the fire had kissed it. The Walrus' face was the next to feel the burn. His skin boiled in an instant before the flame rendered it nonexistent. The bloodied musculature beneath scabbed and browned immediately. The bandit wanted to scream out in pain, but even oxygen was no match for the targeted inferno.

While it only took a couple of moments to melt off the face of the would-be robber, Drake could only imagine it must've felt like an eternity. The body fell forward with a hard thud when the crooks knees hit the ground. The second half of his tumbled marked its end once The Walrus' charred head hit the tiled floor with a sickening splat.

Drake casually walked over to it, pinching his nose to try ans escape that horrid burnt smell, and grabbed the bag of money as well as the small set of once folded bills that were now in disarray on the ground. He tossed the bag back to the cashier, who looked like he was frozen in sheer terror. He took his own money and replaced it in the wallet that was still within his grip before turning and pointing out the window.

"So this was kind of awkward, huh? Anyway, I was coming in here to say I needed $15 on pump 5. Seeing as how I helped stock this robbery, I was wondering if there might be some sort of reward involved. Like maybe I can fill my tank for free?" Drake's question ended with his shrugging in hopes that his playful innocence would garner him some charity.

"Y-you're a-a..." The cashier was so terror struck that he couldn't even get the words out.

"I'm-a running late. Are you going to help me or not?" Drake's eyebrows dropped and his cool, calm demeanor quickly changed to that of annoyance. The shift was not lost on the clerk.

"Y-yes, of course. I'll take c-care of it." With a crooked smile, Drake turned around and waved a dismissive peace sign in the air, pushing opened the glass door of the gas station and heading toward the love of his life: his black old school Harley Fatboy. He'd need to gas up and get back on the road before the clerks called the cops and had this place swarming with flashing lights. He needed to keep a low profile and, so far, was failing miserably. Nevertheless, as soon as he topped of his tank, he would keep heading north to search for answers. One way or another, he was going to figure out what this was inside of him and how to get rid of it.




Location: Manor | Interactions: Open


"Mmm." The stoic grunt was Marrok's signal that he was paying attention, taking in all the names and information, but also lost in thought. The biggest concern filling the room seemed to be the whereabouts and intentions of their mysterious host. He looked on as a couple of these recently made acquaintances seemed to splinter off in search for answers. The mutt's inquisitive nature certainly tempted him to do the same, to scratch that itch of curiosity and venture into the unknown in hopes of finding their reclusive proprietor.

Marrok's stomach rumbled a bit. He looked down with a small frown, as if embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't feasted in some time. The wildlife in the wood should certainly provide ample meals in the days to come, but Marrok wanted something now. Therefore there was only one destination of import: the kitchen.

Marrok flexed his nostrils as he took in breaths of air, attempting to track and pick up the smell of meats and morsels. The manor's unknown, but certainly substantial, age gave the halls their own overpowering fragrance. It was the sort of smell you attribute to antique artifacts. The aroma of time. Such a sent did a good job of masking and hiding all the others, making Marrok's task all the more difficult as he tried to locate a pantry.

He had hardly ever seen a kitchen reside on an ascended story, so he silently made up his mind to stay on the ground level and go east to see what he could behold.
Made some slight edits. For some reason I thought Zee was a wolf, too.
I should have a post up today or tomorrow. Likely today.

Location: Eukary Dormitory > Quad | Interactions: @BizarreLolli@Argetlam350


It was that time. The clock radio roared to life, blaring that classic What Does The Human Say song. Vance's first set of eyelids opened, but his second set was stubborn. Eventually those, too, retracted and his pupils quickly began adjusting to the light coming in from the window. He reluctantly rolled over and sat up upon the edge of his mattress, slowly realizing that he had crashed out fully clothed and just felt gross. Nothing a shower couldn't fix, though. He started stripping down and preparing his toiletries before making his way to hot water paradise.

* * * * *


"I'm going to get some chow," Vance answered into his phone to the caller's question. He felt much better having been fully cleansed and now adorned in a fresh pair of black jeans and a red t-shirt under his faithful leather jacket.

"Chow can wait," came the gruff, electronic voice of Butch out of the phone's speaker. "The Boss wants you to check out this bar. The Wolf Pack. The owner there is operating 'rent free', if you know what I mean. You need to go convince him that he should invest in 'insurance'."

"Butch," Vance shot back as he power walked across the quad, the Cafeteria nearly in sight. "I can't do that right now-"

"The hell do you mean you can't do that?! The Boss said-"

"Butch! Surely my dad intended for me to do this after school. At night. When bars are open!" Vance made no effort to hide the frustration in his voice. After a moment of silence, it was clear that logic finally found its way into Butch's mind.

"Just get it done," he said, conceding. "Report back when you're through." Vance didn't even bother with pleasantries or polite dismissals. He just ended the call with a press of his thumb before shoving it into his jacket pocket and shaking his head. How Butch got to be his father's #2, as dull as he is, Vance could hardly fathom.

When the young lion finally crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, he moved like a starved animal with blinders on, not distracting himself with anything around him. His eyes were simply locked on the meal to come. Vance filled a plate and quickly emptied it into his mouth, not even bothering to take a seat. He discarded his used breakfast wares and went back out into the quad. Once there, he stopped and took in a deep breath, letting it out very slowly.

He had been tasked with picking up collections plenty of times, but those agreements were already established. Shops and businesses would pay for a little extra protection against predators, ruffians and degenerates. Vance convinced himself that he was helping provide a service. However, he had never been tasked with initiating the shakedown and he had certainly never been to this Wolf Pack bar. Walking in to a den of drunken wolves and demanding tribute was going to be... an experience.

He rubbed his face with his hands as if his anxiety was actually sludge that he could simply wipe off his brow. If only it were that easy. With some food in his belly and an itinerary in motion, the black lion snapped to and rejoined the present. He looked around. As it happened, he could see a wolf just now near a bench. Perhaps this was an opportunity to get some intel ahead of tonight's mission. Maybe this wolven woman had been to The Wolf Pack. Perhaps he could extract some insight as to what and whom he'd be dealing with. As any predator would, Vance zoned in on the creature who stood alone, away from the crowd.

"I don't know what it is," he called out as he approached her. "I've tried everything," he continued to explain as he got closer to the lovely lupine by the bench, "but there is just something wrong with my eyes..." He abruptly stopped beside her and let his lips rear back into a toothy, cheesy grin. "...I just can't take them off of you." He extended a dark hand freckled with snowflakes. "I'm Vance and, besides gorgeous, you would be...?"
Thank you all for reading and, DC, I certainly do consider myself lucky. I hope the rift has not impeded upon your happiness.
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