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10 mos ago
Current is sexualizing Pokemon a variation of bestiality?
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10 mos ago
lol. lmao
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1 yr ago
JOHN TABLE!
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2 yrs ago
hearing rumors that rebornfan is storming the US capitol, looking for whoever's responsible for everyone ghosting his RPs
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2 yrs ago
you got a fat ass and a bright future ahead of you. keep it up champ
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interested OwO

Location: Strange Reign Guild House -- City-State of Theremia, Aetheria


Graves nearly stumbled over his feet trying to escape from the repeated, hammering blows of his opponent. The dulled edges of twin swords clashed in the practice yard of the Strange Reign Club's guild house. It was an expansive piece of property just outside the city of Theremia, with numerous smaller structures surrounding the central manse that served as the guild's headquarters. Their status as one of the most successful PVP guilds in Pariah afforded them no small amount of wealth. It'd all been very impressive to a nineteen year old Andrew who'd barely touched video games prior to winning Pariah's machine in a raffle. His family never had the money to afford such extravagances as a console.

Now it served as the familiar backdrop to his regular beatings at the hands of his mentor. Graves gave swift retreat across the practice yard yet the bull of a man before him never faltered in closing the distance. Einhart leapt forward, slamming his shoulder full-force into Graves' chest and knocking him flat onto his ass. "Shit!" He shouted between heaving breaths. Fighting in Pariah wasn't quite the same as it was in real life- the pain was duller, and it never grew beyond an annoyance. But he still felt exhaustion deep in his bones.

"Tired already, bud?" Einhart grinned, resting the sword across his shoulders. "We just started!"

"Its been an hour and a half," Graves groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "And I got work tomorrow morning."

The guild leader reached down to grab Graves by the collar and wrenched him up to his feet with only a single hand. "I thought you said you wanted to be the best."

"Well, I do, but-"

"And to be the best you have to make certain sacrifices. I'm not saying you gotta quit your job or anything, bud, but you gotta commit to this. The Reign ain't for casuals." Einhart cocked his head to the side. "Respectfully, 'course."

Graves rolled for Einhart's legs before the other man even knew what was happening. He took hold Einhart's greaves and used them to drag Einhart to the ground. The ensuing struggle was a blur of thrown fists, curses and steel. Graves was barely a novice at the sword compared to the venerable Einhart; but Andrew'd learned what a real fight looked like in the alleys and parking lots of Westwood.

The brawl only ended with Einhart finally had enough of it and drew his palm against the sharpened edge of his breastplate and let his blood flow free. A sudden force knocked Graves up and off Einhart, sending the boy flying back across the yard and into a bundle of trimmed bushes nearby. "Goddamn cheating bastard!" Graves snarled in frustration, fighting to free himself from the branches and brambles of the bush.

Einhart just laughed, wiping the blood from his hand onto a cloth. "No such thing as a 'fair fight' in Pariah. You either win or you die, simple as that."

After successfully defeating the bushes, Graves pushed himself to his feet. Shame, irritation and exhilaration all rushed through his veins as he approached. "Then teach me already. What's a sword s'posed to do for me up against mages like that?"

The older man hesitated. "It's not like the other elements, bud. The way you gotta fight to use blood magic effectively ain't easy. You're more likely to down yourself than the other guy if you can't balance your defense and aggression perfectly. That, and..." Einhart looked away, his smirk transforming into a thoughtful frown. "It messes with the way ya think. Blood magic incentivizes you to hurt yourself to grow more powerful so your brain sorta-" he wagged a finger around his temple, "-stop paying attention to the 'pain.' The buffs it pumps you up with can get you a little too excited to fight, if ya get what I mean."

The old man's warnings only made Graves sneer. "Come on. If a dumbass like you can do it then so can I. Besides, all that shit about it being cursed or whatever is just flavor text. Ain't no different from everything else."

Something about the look Einhart gave Graves made a shiver creep up his spine. That face was burned in Graves' mind as he lay in the streets of Thorinn, bleeding on the stone with consciousness slipping away from him.

He couldn't help but wonder what would've changed if he paid heed to Einhart's warning.
ayo??
Color me interested.
you are all the same person i believe it
reveal yourselves cowards


Yalta Station Airlock | In Orbit over Arish IV
February 14th, 3061

Captain Deckard Jones leaned against the hexagonal wall of the umbilical cord connecting the Fortuna to Yalta Station. If things had gone how he'd hoped the station's crew would've been using it to shuttle N-1 fuel cells to his ship's depleted engine. Instead the cord was empty, save for himself and his irate first officer. Madeline Lyon hadn't said a word since the two of them left Mr. Ducaine's office, but she didn't have to. Deck had learned to read Lyon's catalog of scowls through thirty-odd years together. And this? This was her angry scowl.

Deck cleared his throat to break the silence. "I don't like it any more than you do," he began, refusing to make eye contact. "But you heard the man: we don't refuel if we don't do this job."

Mads kept her lips pursed as she stared daggers into her captain's skull. The heat of embarrassment built up in his face, as if her gaze had stripped him down to his skivvies. He huffed, pushing off the wall to pace from one side of the corridor to the other. "Five million credits and a full tank, Mads. That contract with AM Ventures we're chasin' pays the same over three months. And this'll take us, what, a day? We're practically robbin' this guy!" He threw his hands up, risking a peek over his shoulder at Lyons' expression. It hadn't changed.

With a sigh, Jones' arms dropped back down to his side. He wished they could've just docked with the station, filled up the tank and gone on their merry way. He wished that Ducaine asshole hadn't declined their purchase and dragged Deck over to his office on Yalta Station with his 'humble proposal.' The man was a slimeball, that much was obvious. He wrapped himself in extravagance and spoke with a practiced swagger. Jones was a wheeler and dealer himself, in a way- he could recognize one of his ilk in an instant. Still, what else could he do? Ducaine had all the cards.

"Say something, damn it!" He yelled.

"He's lying." She replied, her tone even and restrained. "The situation's more complicated than he's making it out to be."

The captain put on his best grin. "We'll play this careful like, Mads, I swear. you know me: I always got somethin' up my sleeve." When her expression finally wavered Jones knew he had her beat. He turned away, then, and started up the umbillical cord toward the Fortuna. He lifted a finger to his ear to activate his ship-wide comlink. "Captain to exo-pilots, assemble in the hangar and prep your Frames for deployment. We got ourselves a contract. Will debrief you all when I get there."
In Titans 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Yeah, Wally can be in NY. Am still a fan of the action-orientated introduction arc
Maxx post in the right thread challenge
SEASON TWO One Universe: Unlimited
SUPERBOY #2 Broken Boy

Cornelius Blue College Blue Valley, Nebraska

Superboy stood on a stage overlooking a sparsely populated auditorium. There were a few dozen blank faces staring back at him, eyes glazed over with exhaustion. Somebody in the back row was snoring. It was doubtful anyone could've heard him; it was a quiet, stifled sound, barely above a whisper. It screamed like a bullhorn in Superboy's ear as he tried desperately to wrap up the last stretch of his 'presentation,' if you could even call it that.

"...And that's why Cadmus has decided to give Cornelius Blue's Technical Sciences department a grant of over fifteen thousand dollars: because today's young minds are-"

The words caught in his throat at the sound of a phone ringing in the audience. Mandisa's Good Morning rang throughout the hall for several seconds too long as the sleeping man jolted awake, hands shooting into his pockets as he searched for the phone. A sleepy series of chuckles drifted through the audience. through the audience. Superboy forced a smile. 6:30 sharp. That was probably the man's alarm, if he had to guess.

"Tomorrow's future." Superboy sighed, hands falling to his hips. This was his eighteenth stop on Cadmus's media tour across the country. At least the last few had been in decent locales at normal business hours- and not Bumfuck, Nowhere at ass-o-clock in the morning. Everyone was exhausted. The audience, the Cadmus crew, even Leech. Superboy was the only one present that didn't even need sleep yet he wanted to crawl under the covers and lie there for eternity more than the rest of them combined. He was a goddamn superhero! And they had him handing out grants to colleges in Nebraska? 'Where even is Nebraska?!'

After an awkward beat of silence a polite clap started up. He gave the audience a curt wave and started to walk off stage. "I'll be around for fifteen backstage to answer questions and, uh, sign shit. Have a good rest of your mornin,' people."

"Excuse me!" Someone called out from the audience. "Mister Superboy, sir-"

He quickened his pace, stepping off the platform into the back room of the theater hall. Rex Leech was sitting on a stool nearby, a cup of coffee in one hand and an L-pad in the other. There were three similar cups crushed up in a basket at his feet. "You tryin' to kill the planet yourself, Rex?" Superboy snorted, nodding his head toward it.

"If only I could," the older man sneered bitterly without looking up from his work. "That speech was god fucking awful. Seriously, you gave those kids more money than they've probably ever seen n' they're falling asleep in their seats? Christ, kid."

Superboy's nostrils flared. He felt a familiar heat building up behind his eyes as he tried not to glare at his manager. It took considerable effort to keep his voice at an even keel. "The sun ain't even up, man, lay off."

Rex must've heard the anger hidden behind the teenager's bitten tongue given the serpentine smile creeping up his face. He set his device down and shifted his attention to Superboy. "Yeah? What's your excuse for Hub City, then? Chicago? Detroit?" Leech chuckled, though the sound lacked for mirth. "Dud after dud."

"Your script's are shit!" Superboy all but snarled. Regret mixed with barely contained frustration fell across his expression. He'd been taking shit from Leech for months, yet somehow the last week had been different, somehow. It was harder than ever to just shrug off his bullshit. It wasn't like Superboy to bite back- not like this.

Leech barked out a laugh. "How 'bout you write 'em yourself, tight pants? Or did the lab jockies not even bothering filling that skull'o yours with anything useful? You got one job: talk n' look pretty, and you can't even get one'a those right!"

Fists balled and teeth clenched, Superboy took a step toward his boss. The pressure behind his eyes grew even hotter.

The other man didn't move. A smug, self-satisfied look on his face, Leech stared Superboy down. "What? You finally fed up, shithead? Gonna do anything with all those muscles'a yours?"

"...Sorry, uhm, am I interrupting?"

Two heads swung back toward the direction of the stage where the voice had come from. A young man in cargo shorts, a tacky vest and a t-shirt for Cornelius Blue's robotics team stood with his hands shoved into his pockets. He had that awkward look on his face that said he knew he shouldn't be there but that he wasn't planning on leaving, either. No one said anything, so he took that as permission to continue.

The student pulled an odd looking device from his pocket, flipping it open. It looked like a cross between a TV remote and an old flip phone. "I-I had a pitch, actually. If you have a sec. This is a-"

"-Uh huh. That's great, kid." Rex coughed loudly, rising from his seat. "You can tell Superboy all about it," he patted the hero on the shoulder. "Crew's headed to IHOP for breakfast. You're free 'til the WGBS interview at eleven. Don't create anymore disasters until then, okay?"

Superboy sulked in silence as Leech walked off, staring into space as he tried to cool off. The other boy, seemingly oblivious to the darkness of Superboy's expression, approached and reached out a hand. "I'm Simon! Simon Valentine. Its nice to finally meet you!"
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