Avatar of Noxious
  • Last Seen: 10 mos ago
  • Old Guild Username: Noxious
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 615 (0.16 / day)
  • VMs: 3
  • Username history
    1. Noxious 11 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago
Current I wanted lemon for the vodka so we built a greenhouse across from the library where all the books on summoning the apocalypse and proper hallucinogen etiquette sit. Sweden is lovely this time of year.
3 likes
8 yrs ago
Writer's block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol. -Steve Martin
3 likes
9 yrs ago
I want to leave this world the same way I came in; screaming and covered in someone else's blood.
3 likes
9 yrs ago
You would rather have a Lexus, some justice, a dream or some substance? / A Beamer, a necklace or freedom? -Dead Prez
1 like

Bio




ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢ ᴀ ᴢ ᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ɪ ɴ ᴛ ᴏ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴀ ʙ ʏ s s ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ʙ ʏ s s ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ



Most Recent Posts

I'm a Chicago girl, born and raised. I have by job based out of here, I went to school here. I can't imagine living in any place that is NOT a city of some sort. If I moved to a suburb or the country, I'd probably cry.

But that also means I've learned on the streets how to handle myself.

So COME AT ME TEXANS!


I'm 7th generation Texan, but I'm half and half on the city/country thing. I live in Dallas, which is in the top 10 largest cities in the US, but my brother and a lot of my friends are legit cowboys/cowgirls. Like, my brother doesn't own a TV, knows how to make his own moccasins and we spend family Christmas at the Rodeo Championship in Vegas. I learned to shoot and ride before I ever went to school, but I know how to pull off heels in uptown.

I've heard some good things about Chicago. You've got Wrigley Field which I will see before I die. I know nothing about Virginia. I spent more than half my life in Northern California, so, Cali has a soft spot in my heart, always. But, the economy sucks and we can't all be pot growers.
of COURSE Rockette is texan. All the GM's I get best along with are. I swear. I collect texans at this point.


This is entirely because of your secret infatuation with me. You don't have to pretend with these people. They're friends. ;)
Nice, thanks guys! I will get a post up tonight and just make the assumption that the rest of the characters decline that bloodpact and leave.
<Snipped quote by Noxious>

Oh hey, a fellow Texan. ♥ ;v


Confirmed. Texans for the win.

Let us know about the movie. I'm intrigued. Kids are creepy.
Thinking about a Sister of Battle infected/corrupted by the lovely Nurgle. I have to see about time, but good idea and I like the variety people are going for.
Surprise, surprise. The dainty Brits and Canadians acting high and mighty as we Texans protect them from terror. ;P

For realsies though, In my next turn I will attempt to ground another Eagle, probably Eagle F. Someone should be sure Castor and Beatrice aren't mauled. Beatrice is more susceptible to an elemental attack from the eagle due to her aeon. Fantasy Chic, I would have Quill tend to Sable. Trying to protect Castor and Beatrice would put Quill in harms way and your character is too relevant to be incapacitated. Though, I think Sable is about to dart into battle as well and if that is the case, someone *coughJohnMattycough* should go have our lovely medics back, in which case help the closest new addition.

The Eagles are intelligent and they are probably aware at this point they are also being attacked by something in the Behemoth so if any start heading Dach's way I will change target, but we should be able to keep them busy enough.
I have to move my own RP forward but I am always in with y'all.

Is this RP where I was finding all sorts of weird pictures of girls and their pet monsters? Pretty sure I was drinking.
one. posted
two. Dach stayed in the car
three. you should have seen me talking to myself and moving fake levers in my house to see about how quickly all this could go down. realism /fighting monster eagles/ yo.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Aboard the Behemoth; Luan Fields.
_____________________________________________________________________________

The tone and temperament of the room swiveled to align loosely with a scantily suppressed frenzy of disarray. As the bubbly blonde vixen jerked from her berth to impel her fae like features upon one of the lieutenants Dach lolled her head across her shoulders and coiled her fingertips inducing a pop from a few select digits. Rejuvenated with the release of pressure a lissome finger clicked a myriad of trigger numerations and the particle accelerators attended the room with a cinereal hum.

Without a clear leader it was to be expected that the disarray would culminate in a haphazard and reactionary migration of allies. Her refusal to be dragged along into this mobocracy was punctuated by depositing two buds past the metal lacing and into her ear cavity so that a juxtaposition of placid and harsh moxie seeped into her form, inducted by a turgid melody littered with motivating intonations. The buds were pre programmed SOLDIER tech to allow default override of Libra contact and auto adjust to exterior vocal cues; enough to pull a reverie about the connoisseur of extermination, but not enough to detach the demon spun girl entirely. Lashes forced closure on those rosewood iris’ and her non-tech glasses were tossed on to the barren seat to her right. Eyes, denied the lambent light, were met with a gloved digit that kneaded across the nerve bundle at her nasion and tear ducts; tempting focus.

The ear buds chorus caused a subtle oscillation, visible in the escaped strands of drowned chanticleer that flitted upon her cheeks and over the barren nape of her neck. She coerced the air about her to completely press at the occupancy limit of her lungs, and then expelled it all in a meditative woo-sah. As the back of the Behemoth yawned and took in the outside world, the opened eyes that greeted the now oppressive lighting of the Behemoth were different; tinged in an enigma of vague cloudy blue, determined, and rapacious. It flickered there for a second as her pupils pulsed to acclimate to the provided light, but as she moved towards the hatch that led to the upper bunker-like turret, housing some of the on-board defensive weaponry, her eyes appeared neutral, if resigned.

She watched the giggling optimistic Valkyrie as she darted out into field, pursued, thankfully, by the mountainous piece of fiery man meat. She had always associated the concept of bravery with stupidity or naivety, usually an intercourse of both, so she felt no guilt in not prancing after her associates. Her usefulness had long ago been quartered and bred, and it had purposefully been denied the interjection of battle madness. She had /other/ skills.


2 seconds since the initial departure from the Behemoth.

She waited as one red shirt climbed the ladder past the hatch and intercepted the second with a squeeze of his shoulder so she could ascend in his stead. The area was cramped with the two of them and the mounted rotating weaponry that peeked from heavy metal alloy slats. She doubted Kain could even make it through the hatch, and if he did, he would surely need assistance being removed. When the first red shirt, Allen, clearly expecting someone else, gave her a puzzled look she motioned towards the slats, Can we open this up a bit?” Allen looked unsure and his lack of confidence boosted her authority.

14 seconds since the initial departure from the Behemoth.

We’ll lose integrity on the outer turret hull,” Allen finally managed to squeeze out, expression unchanged.

18 seconds since the initial departure from the Behemoth.

But we’ll gain more clarity on the overall situation.” She’d already deduced this decision would not endanger the Behemoth overall, or any of the people contained within; cue a flicker of her eyes to the hatch. If the monster birds garnered the tactical reasoning to rip out the soon-to-be-more-exposed section the only danger would be to her and Allen.

I, I can’t authorize…” She’d stopped listening to him. She was quite aware this was a time sensitive situation. Initiative and guesswork had her flipping a few cumbersome bulky chunks of metal, some likely unnecessary, and raising the slat of the sanctuary; just enough to get an encompassing view of the enemy riddled sky and the plains between their Behemoth and the other SOLDIERs. The thick bulky metal rested reassuringly at her back, offering coverage from behind; plus, Allen was there.

28 seconds since the initial departure from the Behemoth.

Rifle stand was unlatched from the belly of the exquisite reaper and she hastily nestled into the dear dear friend, no time for foreplay. She clicked a few buttons, fingers playing across the metal with the skilled touch of biblical knowledge, maybe a little foreplay, in return she received the pleasing hum of the doom song against her cheek, the actual tone was lost and muddled with her melodic inter-phase, coaxing her attention instead with a dampened vibration.

Libra system link initiate.”

The sentience of the Rifle went so far as to begin scrolling readings across the HUB display; wind, distance and other environmental variants. After the link with Libra was solidified her communication took on the semblance of secrets shared between lovers; her cheek nuzzled into the heart of the rifle while her lips purred commands that had an eldritch eeriness riding them into reality. The foreign tongue that fell from those lips was an offshoot of ancient Banngan dialect, something she’d gained familiarity with in the underbelly of crime. Someone was always listening. It had an abrasive and clipped rhythm that allowed words to run an abundance of knowledge quickly through the out of date vocal cues of humans. It was wrapped in the added bonus of catering to hiss’ and clicks that brought to mind the ancient cults of their presumed dead pagan culture. Utterly foreign and nonsensical to the unattuned; eerie and uncomfortable. She loved it and she’d programmed it into the R-36 herself.

The barrel of the rifle traced the speculated combat zone as she whispered. Something that tumbled for her lips initiated
orchid auras around friendlies. She tagged the enemy targets in the same manner, though they earned a tawny aura, blazing across the sky with the additional trajectory and speed tags. /chit/rac fu’ln bek.” Tags grouped the birds into the two groups; the imminent threat and those rapidly closing in. Each target also had its own specific designation if, and when, the grouping dispersed or reassigned. The rifle pinged and captured as her lips coaxed a promise of acquisition from the awaiting rifle. Two waves, patterns of intelligent design, focus, focus...

The earbuds ceased, detecting Allen murmuring behind her.
What, what are you even saying? Creepy bitch.” Fuckin’ Allen. She could taste his confusion and it twisted those lips into something deviant and egged a chilling, Kill ‘em all Allen, kill ‘em all!”

M, my name is Thomas.”
Like it mattered. That stutter was adorable though.

39 seconds since the initial departure from the Behemoth.

A calm settled over their shared bunker reminiscent of the peace and clarity that comes during the adrenaline boost of a particularly wretched car crash. Her lips halted their movement, all movement, muscles tensed and the generic sense of self dissipated as she led the bird across the sky. This was not her first interaction with these aerial monsters, though her first, and last, was in a sunken shady black market and she now realized that bird must have been infantile in relation. Through the scope, even at a kilometers distance, the bird was a dreadful creature to behold. She would later dwell on the hatred and malice entombed in the intelligent precision of their facial structure in an earthbound kamikaze. You had to admire their dedication.

It was a shame to destroy something so beautifully designed, so dreadfully perfect at this one game they all played.

One of those spindly digits tensed against the trigger, the only movement to betray the hunt other than a small hiss that slipped from betwixt her lips with every shot, all tracing through the sky at a single eagle target.


First shot from the R-36 fired 40 seconds after the initial departure from the Behemoth.
… … … … …
Single Target || Twelve Rounds || Eagle D || Behemoth Bunker
John: "Stop bouncing about, stop screaming your lungs out, stop fighting those eagles because we don't know if you're SeeR, and GET OUT OF THAT DAMN CAR!!!"


This is officially how I see John now...



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