Crimmy

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Doragon Shuweya.

Ignite Heart! A Magical Girl RP

On plane. 10 hour trip.
No posto sorry. Snow send to konbini. I will meet.

Persona - Academic Akrasia

@Plank Sinatra...what?

@Mistress Dizzy

Kaneko was the original demon/Persona designer. That includes Clotho. He's semi-retired now, with Doi taking over prominently from SMT 4. I think he's responsible for Apocalypse's Sexy Daddy Odin too.

But yeah, your art for Clotho does differ far too much from the usual Persona, given its "literally just a human" appearance, so it's really unfitting.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I think it went something similar to that. The blood being a natural extension of his regenerative abilities, which are what i meant to say were the real headache

i made him well before i understood what exactly the relationship between aura and semblance was, in fairness

@HereComesTheSnow

like schwas is hp pa ts

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Gratia Mindaro - VGGB Dorm, Bathroom

"How long has it been since I last did your hair?" asked Severa Mindaro nostalgically, running her pale hands through her daughter's silky, dark locks. "Has it been several years yet?"

Gratia shifted slightly in her seat, watching her mother in the mirror. "It was before I chose to go to high school," was her succinct, toneless reply. "You and Papa started taking extra shifts. There wasn't time for it."

Her mother played with a few black strands, looping them around a finger. "I would have definitely taken time off to do it if you wanted me to," murmured the elder Mindaro quietly.

"And could you have afforded it?"

It was a question that didn't need an answer. The rising figures on the bills had necessitated those extra shifts. It wasn't something Gratia begrudged them for, not when she had walked past the decadent, crumbling hall where the trashy shitbags responsible worked everyday on her way to school. It had been irksome, seeing less and less of her parents as she pushed through her studies, but spending less time with them was unimportant compared to them being able to earn money to spend on everything else.

They didn't need to worry about that anymore. Not when they were now being supplemented by the payments she sent home. Not when she had the power over her parents' fate, rather than the arseholes in the council.

"That's why you're providing us with so much each week, is it not?" mused her mother, picking up a brush and delicately beginning to move it through Gratia's hair. "You don't need to worry that much, Grat, we can pay for ourselves!"

Unless you need to buy pork.

"I don't want everything Mama and Papa have done to go unpaid," said Gratia flatly. Almost stubbornly. "I have the power to make sure of it."

Severa smiled sadly. "And for that power, you became a Huntress."

The older woman continued to brush her daughter's hair, letting out a quiet sigh.

"Your father and I worry a lot about your occupation," she admitted, glancing up at the mirror to meet her daughter's eyes. "We know you've enjoyed fighting ... but as your parents, it's always worrying to know that you've thrown yourself at another opponent with reckless abandon."

A pause.

"But if your opponent is now the Grimm, it's more and more frightening. I know you love being a Huntress. It's made you so much happier."

A light, teasing smile.

"It's even made you friends~"

She hesitated again, watching Gratia's silent, stoic expression.

"But I still worry. I'm sorry, but it's scary."

She breathed in.

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

Gratia's voice cut through the silence. Stated as if it was a fact. Because she refused to allow the repulsive pests born from creation's dregs to kill her.

And her mother giggled.

"I'm sure," she said honestly. "You've never ever let us down before. Except maybe when you were three and-"

"Not important," Gratia immediately interrupted, looking away from the mirror. There was a tinge of red in her cheeks. Yet she was happy. Happy at the praise.

"Ahaha, sorry dear." Severa gently ruffled her daughter's hair. "But just remember, the word Hunter; it's somebody who hunts, who works to obtain a hunda - a prize. You might hunt for wealth or fame, but against the Grimm, I ... I believe the prize is safety."

She placed the brush down.

"That is what you risk your life for," she whispered. "To ensure our safety. Your reward is to know that we can still look forward to tomorrow. So that's why ..."

Severa Mindaro reached down to embrace her daughter.

"Please stay safe," she murmured once more. "It's not a reward if you can't be there for it."

It was a repetition of the feelings her mother had expressed earlier. But Gratia Mindaro didn't mind. Because she would be safe. She wouldn't die.

She giggled. "I won't leave you or Papa or Galla, don't worry."

Her mother hugged her tightly once more, before slowly pulling back.

"Well, shall we get back to picking you a new outfit then?" asked Severa happily, as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. "I think you would look great in twintails again~"

"No."

Utter rejection. 0/10.

"But you looked great in them when you were younger! Then how about a bun or a braid? It might look nice with that cardigan you have!"

"The latter would take longer. Do you want to miss the café, Mama?"

Her mother pouted. An unfitting expression for a middle-aged woman.

"I want you to look as good as possible, Gratia! Also, what are your opinions on a skirt ..."

There seemed to be no stopping her mother now.

Gratia Mindaro could only allow herself to be caught up in the wake.

But ...

It was fun.

Ignite Heart! A Magical Girl RP

Airplane + funeral + stuff soon. Will try and get a post before I need to leave but no promises, and if I don't deliver I'll be off the radar for a bit.

Persona - Academic Akrasia

@Mistress Dizzy Nah.

Also, got some stuff up for everyone (except for Team Park, I'm sorry, but you guys seem to be in the middle of something FOR NOW), and I'll be heading off to the airport in like, an hour. Then I'll be on a flight to the Motherland, before going to a funeral and dealing with the will readings and whatnot, so my activity will be low.

So feel free to post.

I won't be energetic enough to pester you, but do it anyway.

Persona - Academic Akrasia

@vancexentan

A few blocks away from the park

As he jogged along, he would catch sight of a brunette in glasses standing hidden in the shadow of a tree, glancing with an expression of irritation at her wristwatch every once in a while. She was humming something melodic under her breath, but unless Hans came closer, it was unlikely that he would be able to identify the tune, if it was a familiar one. A strange sight to behold, particularly given her choice of clothing in a suburban environment, and that patch on her jacket seemed familiar, as if it had appeared somewhere on television or the Internet.

She huffed with clear frustration, hands immediately shoving themselves into her pockets. It was clear that whatever she was looking for hadn't revealed itself. At the same time however, she glanced up, and though her eyes were still hidden behind those black shades, it was immediately that they had zeroed in on Hans.

He was pretty popular today, it seemed.

"Oi!" she called out. Her manner of speech was rougher than one would expect of someone from these parts. "You got a nav on y-"

Immediately, she attempted to compose herself, shades flashing as she stepped forward and out of the tree's shadow.

"Ah, sorry, but do you have a phone on you?" she asked, this time speaking far more politely. "I left mine with ... a friend, so I'm a bit lost right now. Can I borrow some directions? It's very urgent."

She clapped her hands together, smiling at Hans.

Persona - Academic Akrasia

@Savo@JBRam2002@Suku@GarlandDaHero

Santen

Okazaki stepped up silently towards the emergency exit, hand reaching for the knob. If all went well and the eerie facsimile of their school proved to work the same as their reality, then it would give them a path to escape. It was entirely possible that this strange world was bound by different rules, or that the exit would lead to absolutely nowhere they wanted and rendering their entire trek here entirely moot, but to be perfectly honest, the Drama Club's Vice-President doubted he would be particularly fazed by such an occurrence. A success sounded invigorating, and he definitely wanted that, but if it didn't pan out, then they would just have to try again.

He just needed to open this door. That was all.

His hand brushed against the flaking brass.

Magma.

A thousand burning pinpricks ran through his arm and lanced right through his head, a jagged lightning bolt of searing hot white. He staggered back, unconsciously raising his right hand to his forehead, left gripping tightly onto his wrist.

Pain.

ļ̴̛̭̘̯̠͎̩̺̙͋̿̈̇͊̃͘̕̚e̷̢͈͇̘͍̩̔̎̅͆t̵̬̤̤̙̟̼̹͉̟͚͎̙̆͐̑́̒͆͒͗̚ ̷̢͚̝̜̫͎̖͓̣͖͂͋̀̽́͌̓ͅȍ̸̢̦͕̳̜͇̮̗̫̮̤̺͈͔̑͂u̶̬̹̺̽r̷̯͍̤͔̠͊̿͋̀͆̅̈́̌̈́̊̈́ ̵̡̢̛͕̫̗͉̀h̸̡̞̞̰̭͖̬̙̥͍͎̽̃̓̌̈́͌̀̂̔̚̕̕͠͝ó̸̳̏̓̆̽̇̈́̕͝͠ŗ̸̛̛͈̳̳͕̫͈̇̓̀̒̓̈́́̒̕͝s̴̱͎̻̠͎̥͑̏͋͂ȩ̴̛͎̤͚̺̮̹͇̳̩̲͈̾́͗́͂̈́͗͛̇͗͐͝ͅs̴͈̝̼̺̮̳͎̓̓́̇̏͜ ̸̛̛̻͙̉͂̅͑̓͌͛͌̈͘͝͝ŝ̵̢̧̢̱̫̮͕̖̭̖͔̳̮͌͆̒ͅt̵̘̘͙͖̍ͅą̷͎͍̦͓̮̹͈͖͑̉̿́̋̆́̌̏̚͠ǹ̴̛̛̳́̓̾͊͋́̇͝͝d̵̯͔̘̯̰̝̈́̋̌͋̀͗̃̽͊͋͆͆̽͠͝,̵̡̠̱͔͍͙̘͇̦͖͓̯͌̑̎̈̓̈́́̔̔͘͠ͅ ̷̧̮̯̜̖͍̺̤͔̺͠f̵͍̹̬̒̈́̎̚͜ó̸̧̫̠̰̬̫̹̮͇̩͙͍̻͗̽̀̆̔́̇̋͋̕ͅr̴͔͚͈͔̜͉̮̣̪̳̬̜̫̠͑̏̾̃̃̊̽͗͂͂͘ ̸̬͙̠͓͓̠͔͓͂̑͋͊̓͗͂̿̎̿̽̋̏ị̶̧̡̡̢̛͇̘̟̹̙̞͋̇̄̂̈͜ ̵̛̹̟͈͖͉̬͚̮̯̳̏͂̄̃̔́̄̋̈́̉͊̈̚͘a̸̛͖͇̖̦̔̎͛̽̊̓͛͐͗̕͝m̶̨͓̘̱̺̝͈̙͔̃̈́͛͆̾ ̵͈͉̯̣̝͚̋͂̽̄͑̽̌̈́͌͐͘ͅm̸̧̡̪̰̠̞̗̩͙̩͖͙̯͒̈́̉̎̓̑̈͠i̶͙̬̫͇͑̈́͛̀́n̸̮͇̋͗̏̔̆̊̾̅̅̉͗̍͠d̷̡̛̯͚͙̪̲̹̙̟̠̮̙̘̅̎̃͆̓̅e̸̩̲͚̬̹̙̾͒d̴̡̞̠̜͍͎̗́͂͑̓̔̎͒̓̀ ̶̮̟̈́t̶̡̧̧̛̛̰̰̻͉̩̀̊̽̀̈́́̊́̄̓̚͠͝o̴̙̤̖̲̮̟͌̇̍́̂̉̄̾͑̂̕͠ ̸̧̻̦̼̰̒́̽̿͊̆̄͒̿͒̚͝͝ḑ̵̢̛̩̻̘̻̩̱̿͋̒͐͂͂̎͐̈́̒̚͘̚ȩ̵̢̗̳̘̳͍̰̠͎̳̪̘͔̒̔̓̓͗̆̔̓̎͜͝p̶̛̤̑̓̆̓͑̑̒̋̏́̿̾͜͜͠ą̵̨̰͎̞̺̮͉͓̫̰̝̖͂͒͒͊͝ŗ̶̨̨̹̜̠̹̙͓̲͙̲̣͕̠͊̏̿́͆̈́̉̿̋̃̏ṱ̶̪̪̤̈͋̍͗̕̚ ̴̘̝͖͎̩͈̌̉́̒́̒̐͘͝ͅa̵̠̺͓̱̘͕̖̝̥̭͚̯̯̳̍̆͠ḡ̷̨̡̝̮̯̮̩̻̯͔̯͝a̶̡̛̛͍̦̟̫͖̜̦͔͓̣̋͑̓͌̂͐̒̕i̴̻̯͚̹͓͉͙̟̽̒̉͌̓̍̓̉͊̓̕ņ̸̠̟̱͈̝͙͕̓̈́̾̋͋̋̒̋̚ ̵̡̰͉̠͓͈̳͗s̷̛̤̻̾̈̓̏̐͆̆͊͘͘p̸̢̣͈̲͖͙̳̻̮̜̼͐͛̂̈́̌͛̋͑̀̈́̕͜ͅę̸̡̝̗̬̜͚̗̲̥̅̃̍̇̅̔ė̵̖̙̹̰̖̥̰̗͈̥͕͓̎̐̊̾̈́̓̐͛͛̕̕d̶̗̾̓̍̾̊͂̃̏́̍͑́̂̿̆i̴̝͖͋̿͠l̵̫̼͚̘̭̋̿̈́͘͠ȳ̷̡̹͔͙̫̞͇̥͓̥̺̪̘̪̆̈́

A loud chime.

It resounded across the school.

The chiming of ... of a bell.

Even despite the burning, he knew it.

The clock tower bell.

And they came.

Neon green oozed from the windows, a mass of shocking colour filling the monotony of the glass and walls as they rose up from the Expanse outside the windows, cutting short Alexander's peek into the haze of purple and red that dropped into a chasm of nothingness. They oozed and rippled, coalescing, and the ears of the children would hear.

Hear the chittering.

The walls seemed to rust.

A film of acidic emerald became legs.

Happily dancing closer.

Bulbous, gangrenous masses of pink. Almost unidentifiable.

Yet the sight of human flesh, no matter how distorted, will never be one that Man can mistake.

The pink, leaking green, flow from all sides.

And they are born, one by one.

Little, little feet. Milliard in number.

And their golden eyes awoke, turning in perfect synchronicity upon the visage of Alexander.

Ugly, uneven masses, bulbous like fungi. Rotting in scent, rotting in looks, pink giving way to black and sickly yellow. And upon that black were the cysts, little, pulsing as if to pop. And some had, the leeching of neon green acid from small holes flowing over their sides and towards the floor.

Keratin protrusions from a mouth.

Two mouths.

Far too many sets of two mouths.

Sickly claws as sickly teeth.

Chittering. Chattering. Shambling and dancing along. A wave of pink masses upon a wave of green liquid.

And the tide fell upon Alexander, drowning him beneath the stench of flesh.

Beneath the green, heavenly hellish liquids.

And with seraphic, beauteous tones, they buzzed their delightful cries.

For they were here.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Down, Grat.

@HereComesTheSnow

you don't understand she needs that UNLIMITED POWER