Oh, Mako. I love Mako. He's such a great character. So lovable.
-- Acyl
-- Acyl
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Tales of The Legendary: Snippets of The Legendary
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Atlas Park
Seraph Residence Dark Seraph sat in his workshop, trying to find something to do. He tied up the Yarnball case, even helped put a stop to Super Yarn before it really took off, but now he was bored. Swinging his feet up on to the desk, he contemplated having a nap when he heard the door open. He watched as his sister floated into view, an impish smile on her face that meant she must be up to no good again. "What do you want Sera?" He asked. "Well Seraph, I thought it was so sad that you spent all your spare time looked up in your work shop, that I decided to make you have some fun." "Make me have fun?" "Yes, that's why you're coming with me to one of these." She paused as she rummaged around her pocket before pulling out a flyer. "Speed Dating Seminars." She finished proudly. "And why the hell would I want to do that?" "Because it says it's a great way to meet new and exciting people and quite frankly your social life is pretty shity." Seraph glared at his sister, but knew she was right, he hadn't really tried to make friends since moving to paragon… hell when he thought of it, Terr and a maybe a few others were amongst the few he'd class as friends. "Now come on Seraph. This will be fun. But if you don't come. I'll turn you into a cat girl again." She smiled as witch fire danced between her fingers. "And remember what I said I'd do if you do try that shit again?" Seraph snapped. Sera threw up her hands in exasperation "look mister grouch, what's the worst that could happen, you have a boring night? Sure sounds better than sitting on your arse. Unless you enjoy being a boring blob" Seraph knew there was only one way to end this. "Look, even if, and I stress if, I go. What's the point? Most of the people at dose things are midlife crisis sufferers." "What makes you say that?" "I hade to tail a guy into one once, it wasn't fun." "well look, it says here that's it's for people in their mid twenties to thirsty, okay… that's a bit of a stretch on my behalf, but it will be fun. How about this, if you have no fun and think it's a waste of time, I'll leave you alone for a week, okay?" Seraph thought about it, a weeks of silence would be nice, and it wouldn't be like he was cheating on Enynn, hell he had the impression that whatever was going on between them was burning out anyway. "Okay, you have a deal, when's it on?" "Tonight at 7:30, so you have some time to get ready. And remember, try and have some fun." She giggled as she skipped away. Seraph sighed as he slowly stood up, for better or for worse, he was going to socialise. ----- because i feel that DS has had it to easy of late. i do have a plan for a ending, but i'll wait to see what replies are before writeing it  
oh NO
poor bastard. wasn't he dating Ennyn? "No can brain today. Want cheezeburger." From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies 
or was En just a forging partner with benefits?
 -Terry ----- "so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today" TF2: Spy
i'm not sure about were i'm going with this.... but who gives a damn, i think it's funy (it also only took ten minutes to write... a new record
))
Mmmm DS speed dating... -ponders- Zen can probably take Enynn in the arena. -ponders a bit more- Probably. -muses a bit more-
...Everything with En comes 'with benefits'
--- The Master said: "It is all in vain! I have never yet seen a man who can perceive his own faults and bring the charge home against himself." >Analects: Book V, Chaper XXVI
so with i ncie bit of feed back.... dose anyone want to volentear female toons for the next bit, red and blue are weclome, more chaos that way
Use the bug!Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
what..... Fruitfly?
Fruitfly: "I don't understand you humanzzz and your obzcezzion with zzzex, but I admit I have thought about zzzettling down and raizzzing zzzome larvae zzzomeday."
DS: "I see. Are you thinking about a big family?" Fruitfly: "Oh, not really...juzzzt eight or nine hundred kidzzz." DS: "Eight...or nine...HUNDRED?" Fruitfly: "In the firzzzt year. If that workzzz out, then...." DS: "Uh, time's up, sorry, gotta go!" -- Acyl
*falls out of his chair with laughter*
Gen sez to use GenWire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
so i can see this is going to be a blast to write, tell ya what, post or e-mail me how you reckon the dates go, and i chose a wi- er, i'll chose one form
it to use for the end story
heres another one from w00t
### Dark Seraph gulped nervously at the giant blue reptilian sitting across from him. She had just eaten the flowers at the table and seemed to be looking around for something else to munch on. He cleared his throat. "Um...so....what are your interests?" He said after a few moments, all too aware that time was ticking down. "Huh?" Genau'Goeg blinked a few times and smiled at Dark Seraph, her razor-sharp teeth glittering in the half-light of the Resturants Lamps. "Gen like food. Ruled by stomach, one could say. But Gen also like long walks along blood rivers in Shadow Shard, dancing, and city at night from rooftops." "That's....fascinating..." Dark Seraph gulped and thought to himself Dammit, where's that buzzer? "Gen also like body modification..." she said as she picked a stem out of her teeth. "Wha...what kind of body modification?" Dark asked, confused. Gen stood up and concentrated - as she did, much to Dark Seraph's shock, the big leathery wings poking over her shoulders made a horrifying crunching noise as they contracted and atrophied. After a few seconds, the large appendages were nothing more than little fluttery bat-like things on her back. The buzzer sounded. Dark almost fell over the chair as he got up and made his way as quickly as he could to the next table. ### at this rate i may have to get this story moved to it's own thread
you should.
Also - AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! "No can brain today. Want cheezeburger." From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies
Oh...
well... -cracks knuckles- Lemmy see what I can do here. -silent muhahahhahahhahah-
DS: should i be worried?
Me: yes, yes you should
Re: to this
Enter Eileen Fawkes. Level 50 Robotics/Dark Mastermind. __________________________________ "You can't bring that in here it's neutra-" The bouncer at the door had his words cut short by the signature ping of plasma blast cannons just behind her as the mammoth metal colossus hunkered down ready for battle. The raven haired, doll in front of it merely checking her manicure for imperfections with the other hand to her hip. "I can do one of two things right now, one is disarm him or arm his Incendiary Missiles... I'm gonna let you decide which" Either arms crossing in front of her with a prideful and immune look on her face "but I aint going in without him." "Lady... it's a club not a war zone." the bouncer attempting to disarm her attitude problem. Her brow lofting a moment with a curl of her fist to her mouth lightly to clear her throat. The metal giant stepped forward to her side its sheer weight shook the pavement underfoot as it did. With a steely echo of clicking and ticking servos and the hissing of hydraulic actuators it settled as the missile tubes opened up showing off its payload. In a deep metallic and emotionless tone, it barked back at the bouncer. "You Have Twenty Seconds To Comply" Much to her surprise the bouncer didn't suddenly fear for his mortality as he rolled his eyes at her. "Put. The. Toy. Away." With the order she stared through him and took over terrorizing the silly little man into a recoiled mass of shivering pansy. A tiny bean pole of a lady in a cliche little red dress offset by the black trench coat that fluttered behind her as she walked. This massive, mechanical, giant following closely, and loudly, behind her. She wasn't the only from the wrong side of the tracks present as she presented herself the way most of her fellow rogues and thieves would. Pompous, arrogant, with total disregard for the law and a low level of tolerance for those of the more heroic nature. She always made it a point to show up for the mingling events if only to spend her time conning a hero into questioning his or her occupational choice. This speed dating fiasco was no exception and she arrived with the style and flair of someone who's faced down Lord Recluse and the horde of Statesman's lackeys. Sitting calmly in a less lit corner at a table she waited as her mechanical counterpart took up residence by the entrance with a clear shot at his mistress. (Minus a few innocent bystanders naturally) One after another she'd wait out potential suitors for the few seconds she'd be accosted. The keypad at her wrist ticking away softly under her perfect nails as she all but seemed to ignore what she classified as foolish questions. Rolling her eyes at the standard questions that seemed pulled straight out of a model profile one would find in a copy of Playboy. Hero and villain alike if they didn't meet the standard visual and auditory requirements. By the time someone with any significant security clearance sat down in front of her she'd already collected a pile of numbers she'd never call in the center of the table. Masochistic males who'll tolerate a woman who's just going to wipe her stilettos off on them. Tall, thin, kinda scruffy and he threw out that 'interests' question. That's it. Without bothering to eye up from the display of scrolling data on her wrist "... advanced robotics, or rather, the tactical application thereof in combat situations." "like those robots SWAT teams use to disarm bombs?" "More like Mister Tall, dark and metallic standing over by the door" ticking a finger over the display she snapped it closed and glanced across the table to eye the suitor over with an analytical eye. Again she curled her fist just over her mouth and cleared her throat as perky as she could muster "Math is hard, teehee" a dull annoyed sort of glance across the table at him as she reverted to her norm. "Best of luck to you, hero" near insult in the way she voiced the final word foregoing the buzzer to walk out of the club. That mass of metallic death standing upright and falling into step behind her. 
No one denied that Rogue Isles was a dangerous place to live. Everyone knew that. From the lowest homeless beggars on the streets to lofty Lord Recluse in
Grandville. Even the fleas on vermin in the sewers were dangerous here. However, there were pockets where one could go to escape the rat-race. While they weren't exactly neutral or sacred ground, these pockets were typically respected - be they a local bar, a particular store, or a landmark that was for some cosmic reason deemed 'hands off' by the powers that be. One particular pocket of sanity was Larry's Steak n' Grill. Larry's Steak n' Grill was located down on the edge of the district called Oil Spill in Port Oakes. It wasn't anything special, really. It just had really good steaks that didn't cost the earth. And if you could get Suzzie to get your drink, well, she put a dash of extra malt or something that gave it that extra zing. For unknown reasons, although both sides of the Mook/Malone debacle ate there, neither side strong armed Larry to take a side. Larry's was Larry's. All were welcome - Provided they met the dress code. On this particular day, Larry's was about half full, so it was a typical mid week crowd particularly for this time of day. There were a few tables spare and a few patrons at the bar. If anything was unusual it was the fact that there wasn't more here. Larry was after all in a fit of madness offering discounts to regular customers. The door to the restaurant/bar opened and in walked a figure. This figure may herald the start of the next rush hour for Larry, or he could be just lost. The figure was male, slim athletic build about 6 foot in height. He had a dark crimson almost black flowing jacket on that brushed against his knees and the floor as he walked in. The wide brim hat of the same color shielded his face from the light. Under the jacket there appeared to be a complete buttoned up vest with a pressed whited shirt underneath it. Dark colored pants and heavy leather motorcycle boots completed the outfit. The figure carefully cast his eyes about the room. The fasteners on his boots jingled in time with each step as with a measured pace, he threaded his way over to the bar. Today it was Eric's turn behind the bar, so he greeted the figure with a warm smile. This was Larry's after all. As long as you met the dress code, and were civil, your money was good. "What'll it be, sir?" asked Eric, his English accent flowing freely. "Whiskey" said the figure. Reaching into his pocket, the figure placed a large note on bar and held it there with two leather covered fingers while Eric got him his drink. "Here's ya drink, sir." said Eric with a smile, placing the shot glass down before the figure and reaching for the money. When the figure didn't let go of the money, nor reached for the drink, Eric gave him a confused look. "Sir..." "I'm looking for someone. Was told you could help." stated the man in a slow steady voice, who had yet to raise his eyes up from the bar, Eric's demeanor changed instantly. With a soft edge to his voice, he stated, "I suggest you drink up. We're not that type of bar. Sir." "Where can I find, Westin Phipps?" asked the man. He split his fingers apart and the money on the bar appeared to double. "We're not that sort of bar sir." stated Eric with a hard tone of voice. The man raised his eyes up and glared at him. One was electric and the other natural, but both were burning with contempt, frustration and hatred. There was a long moment of dead silence as all conversation fell away as the battle of wills took place between Eric and the man. -THUMP- The stark hush that had fallen on the eatery was broken by the thump of a fist slamming down on the bar. An ugly looking biker from down the bar had a real annoyed look on his face. He was sitting with the rest of his gang having just completed a hard ride and was in the middle of what had been an enjoyable meal, until this *punk* had walked in and spoilt everything. Slamming his fist down on the bar once more to make sure he had everyone's attention, the biker snarled, "You think you can walk in here like you own the joint boyo? That you can ask questions?" Clenching his fist, the biker produced a flick knife and surged off of his stool. "I oughta slice you up real go for even thinking about that!" While the biker had been snarling, the man had casually reached into his pocket, and then withdrawing it, made a disinterested flick of his fingers towards the biker as he surged off his stool. The patter of three small seeds landing on the wooden floor was lost in the background noise. The biker took one more step as he continued to bear down on the man, who so far had not moved. There was a sudden crack and tearing sound which caused everyone but the man to jump and flinch. Several thorned vines whipped up from the floor-boards and engulfed the biker. His shout of rage had changed to a cry of pain as the thorns dug into his leathers and flesh. Within seconds all that could be seen of the biker was his face that was contorted into on of shear agony, and his fists which were well above his head. Glaring at the biker, the man growled out, "Jason Byers. Where. Is. He?" "Ow... I don't know man." moaned the biker. The man's eyes flashed once more and the vines twitched the biker screamed as the thorns pulled on the fresh wounds and wrapped themselves around him tighter. "I tire this..." "Wait!" called the biker, gasping for breath. "Grandville." The biker then sagged. "Thank you," said the man with false sweetness. "See how easy that was?" Turning away from the biker, the man started to make out for the door of Larry's. Behind him, the biker started to scream anew. The vines around him were twitching as he struggled with them. There was a panicked expression on the biker's face, as the vines ripped into his cloths and body. His eyes started to bulge as his groaning and yells of effort became higher pitched. The man stopped on his way out the door and a sneer flew across his face as his hand closed into a clenched fist. The biker's protestations were suddenly cut off as a crimson thorny vine ripped way out of his mouth. There was an instant of silence then the air was filled with the sound of several cracks. The man resumed his track to the door as vines were splashed with a meaty pulp. "Hey!" called out Eric, his mind still partially locked on the gruesome scene he had just seen. "What's your name?" "The name's RedThorns," said the man, tossing something over his shoulder as he exited the bar. It looked several more pellets. From outside the drone of the city almost drowned out sound of tearing and screaming. (Ok, Thanks to OpMegs for the brief pointers and such. RedThorns is a stylized Plant/Mind Dom. No, I currently do not have plans to play him but this snippet would just not leave me alone. I do have a costume for him if anyone is interested. He could be used as a NPC for DHH if needed.)
Echo's
--- Orobours Gir wandered around the platform, she always felt odd when she cam here, like she was being examined by something. As she wandered around she eventually came to the large pillar of fire and ice, she had never seen anyone use it before. Carefully she lent forward looking at the myriad of reflections on the surface, as her gaze fixed on one, slowly the image warped. Gir tried to pull back, but she couldn't her gaze drawn further in, she saw things that made no sense, a blast of blue energy burning form the sky to strike down steel canyon, another was of a funeral, crying figures surrounding a grave that's name was hidden in shadows, another was of her and Patti sitting on a couch, a small child on patties lap. Again it shifted, a demon of lightning and steel fighting her father, shift, her being beaten by a something that loks like a Sabre, shift, a monster attacking her sister, shift. As Gir fell deeper and deeper in to the reflections, they blurred faster than she could comprehend, a pair of eyes glared back at her form the depths. It is not your time, you are not tempered for the coming storm. the voice echoed in her head, with out warning she felt a rough hand grab her and pull her back. She blinked as her eye sight cleared, she was now looking in to enraged face of Mender Silos. "What did you see?" he bellowed at her. "I... I don't know" she stammered. "The main crystal is beyond your understanding child, if I did not save you, you could of been lost forever, think before you act." he snapped at her before storming off. Gir bolted for the exit, the images she saw still running in her head. But more importantly, the voice, telling her she wasn't ready. 
The Ziggursky's primary halls weren't all that great to begin with for details. The sheer number of crooks Paragon produced and imprisoned made it a
place of understaffed, overworked guards that couldn't wait to leave at the end of the day. The secondary halls were worse, containing members of the streets' more powerful gangs. Cybernetic Freakshow, psychic Lost, and the Damned and Bone Daddies of the Hellions, or the various Ink Men of the Tsoo...these were the charges of the secondary halls. Then there was the shift no Zig guard wanted, and thus, it was staffed primarily by Longbow volunteers, having the most experience with its inhabitants...the superpowered criminals that created these gangs. The Omega Hall. Occasionally, a Patron of Arachnos would stay here for a week or so before political pressure got them released, or someone like Clamor or Castillo before their minions busted them out. But of late, the star prisoner of the Omega Hall was one of the simplest to contain. For within Omega #12, was imprisoned the tube that contained the mind of the insane Clockwork King. For weeks, he'd been a model prisoner, if one could consider a drifting brain with no limbs or means of movement, or even indication that he'd exited his catatonia to be a model for reform. The Longbow troops had begun wondering if the brain was even alive anymore, or if the shock of being defeated by Task Force Impulse had finally done the King's fragile mind in entirely. But the doctors assured the ward officers that the brain was still alive, if not especially active. With the Rikti returned, more and more Longbow were being shuffled elsewhere to attempt to help increased incursions within Crey's Folly, Founders, and the Lost's attacks all over the city. The Clockwork King's catatonic state was considered to be a lesser threat, and so the guard detail steadily dwindled, eventually with only a pair of guards and psi dampeners serving as sentinels to a once-feared villian. Thus, there were only two Guardians left the day that the psychic registers blipped. "Oh, hey..." Smith noted, looking at the device. "Someone's throwing around some pretty powerful psi in this vicinity." "It coming from the Tube King here?" "No. Inbound, not emanating." "Then it don't matter." There was a flatline beep as the psi-sensor tuned out, and for a moment, both guards could almost swear they heard a little girl yelling distantly...but then it went away. And then the monitors began beeping again. "...we have alpha wave activity..." ...penny.... The Guardian at the monitor started sweating under his cowl as he watched the monitors begin to flair up. "Shit, shit, shit. Get someone to ramp up those dampeners, we've got a full blown reaction here!" ...Penny.... The tube began to glow a sickly pinkish white as the Guardian sighed in relief when the psi readings died down. "Yeah, doesn't matter how powerful you are, Mr. Brain. We got enough anti-psi here to lock down a Rikti regiment. And the two of us couldn't get you out if we tried anyway. So just go on back to your nap. No brains for you to control, and no Clockwork for you to call in." ....fools.... "Kringman, why can I hear his voice in my head? Aren't the buffers up?" Smith asked. "Yeah, but....he shouldn't be able to push through them...." You mean....these? The two Longbow looked up at a creak in the ceiling, before a small number of tiny Clockwork fell from the roof, landing in the cell. Kringman's eyes bulged in terror as he recognized the blocky shapes that formed their torsos......the shapes of the psi-emitters that were fueling the dampening signal. We are leaving. You will not stop us. "Open fire, open fire!" The glass around the brain and eyes of the Clockwork King was not particularly durable, but the bullets seemed to spang off it as if hitting armor plate nonetheless. There was a creaking groan of tortured metal before an enormous arm wrenched through the floor, already connected to a shoulder joint below the tube that hadn't been there before. The Guardians dove for cover as the Clockwork approached their master....and the very cell that had been holding him reshaped itself into his new body. Panels flew off walls and bent themselves into place to form armor. Gears and joints shattered and reformed into hands and feet. Superstructure, limbs, coolant...it all seemed to build around the single tube as the massive archvillain reconstituted himself. And around him, his minions in turn began to form. Like undead from the earth, they rose, winking diodes and sparking joints, and soon they began to assemble others, a massive horde, backed by large Princes that dwarfed the men. One or two went down to the Longbow gunfire before it dropped off as the two Guardians realized how little they could do to stop the oncoming horde. Turning, they ran through the emergency door, slamming the lock into place behind them just before the sea of Clockwork became a tidal wave, smashing through the walls and adding to itself with every demolished piece of scrap... *** "Talk to me," Gaussian said, pulling up his phone. "You've got a grade A problem heading your way, chief," the Vanguard liason to Ziggursky Penitentary said. "The Clockwork King just busted out and he's on a red eye path through the sewers for the RWZ. Estimated ETA is in about twenty minutes." "....the girl. Yin. Damn, the rumors were true. We can't warn Task Force Trafalgar in time. I guess they're on their own....make a note of this phenomena though, Frank. If the Rikti ever got the idea to go after the King instead of the Queen, I think it's safe to say they'd be able to find bait all too easily...." --- "Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay waste." 
Sammy didn't quite understand Aunt Nene's fascination with the ... well, she wasn't sure what the right word would be -- she kept settling on
'dense', but that wasn't very nice and Aunt Nene said Miss Sachie was very smart -- and the word 'big' didn't quite fit either, and 'heavily muscled' made it sound like she looked like Statesman or something, which was a very funny image but wasn't at all accurate, and -- where was she? Sammy bit her lip and frowned. Oh, right. Why was Aunt Nene so fascinated by the strong lady with the grumpy attitude? She had Aunt Ifrit already, and even if Sammy wasn't interested in girls herself she wasn't -blind-, she saw the way other people -- girls and guys alike -- reacted when Aunt Ifrit was around. And she didn't think Aunt Nene wanted -two- girlfriends, that didn't seem her style. Unca Terr and Miss Valles, now, both of them had two girlfriends, but Aunt Nene teased them about it, and not in a jealous-teasing way but the rolling-on-the-floor laughing kind of teasing. But Aunt Nene seemed to like the grumpy lady, and had even suggested that perhaps a bit of sparring in the arena would be a good way for Sammy to test herself. Somehow that had turned into a free-for-all with the grumpy lady, and one of the Sabres, and Miss Lora -- who, Sammy noted indignantly, was careful to keep her flying-squid-form tentacles out of even a catgirl's reach -- and someone she had never met before but who she had to be nice to because this was the D and DJ Zero wouldn't like it if she sharpened her claws on someone outside the arena, no matter how much she probably deserved it. Well, she obviously -did-, she was a -fox-, which, when you got right down to it, was pretty much just like being a -dog-. Still, she'd behaved herself, even though she didn't want to. And, she had to admit as she flew through the air, twisting instinctively to land on her feet -- again! -- Aunt Nene had been right about one thing: This was a heckuva challenge. She pushed off, ignoring the blast of icicles from the fox lady, and landed on Sachie's back. Her hands blurred, her claws flashing as they tried to carve their way through Sachie's... well, she didn't know what it was, exactly, but it was a lot like sparring with Unca Terr. The Sabre was in front, slicing away with that sword of hers, and the fox lady and Miss Lora were joining in, it was like beating on one of those giant Roman monsters, like the cyclops guys or something, everybody was joining in the slice-em party, and -- Eeep, she thought, as Sachie reached up with one hand, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, and sent her flying again. What does Aunt Nene -see- in her? ran through her mind again as she slammed through the tables and skidded right over the edge of the raised deck, landing heavily outside the cage below. Sammy scowled as the teleporter flashed, depositing first Miss Lora, then the fox lady, outside the D arena terminals. The fox lady hastily excused herself -- Sammy tried not to bare her fangs -- and Miss Lora followed suit. Sammy waited, regarding the sad remains of her claws with more than a little irritation, combined with equal parts grudging respect and horrified confusion. Her claws were -dull-. Claws that could peel Rikti like grapefruit, that had shredded Bobcat -- and at -that- memory Sammy sniffed haughtily to herself, Bobcat wasn't deserving of the 'cat' title if -that- was all she had! -- that had gone one-on-one with the big ugly Roman guy who stank like an outhouse and spat purple lightning to boot... these same claws had failed to so much as scratch Sachie Hanagawa. It was -infuriating-. But Aunt Nene had been very firm. Sammy had to be polite. So she waited. Finally Sachie and the Sabre appeared in flashes of light. Sammy rose out of her habitual crouch and stuck out a hand in Sachie's direction. "Good fight," Sammy muttered, trying to be polite and only partially succeeding. She released the handgrip and nodded at the Sabre -- who she'd been able to score hits on, at least, even if the armored girl had shrugged them all off. "Anyway if you'll excuse me I need to go find some Freaks and beat them up a bit, sharpen my claws, I can't believe I couldn't -touch- you in there, that's really annoying and it just makes me want to SCREAM and oops I'm sorry Aunt Nene said I should be polite and now I'm not and I'm going to go now, excuse me, bye!" She hastily leapt over the railing and dropped to the floor below, her cheeks and ears burning. She -really- didn't get why Aunt Nene liked that grumpy lady. All she ever did was grunt -- the "Hn." still rang in Sammy's ears, mockingly -- and beat up innocent catgirls. Hmph. She really needed to find some Freaks. Or Derrick. Maybe both. --sofaspud --"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
Bwahahahahah.
Sammy remains adorable. ... Hee, I think my head is swelling. ^_^ =========== =============================================== "V, did you do something foolish?" "Yes, and it was glorious."
Of course, Nene has about as much idea as Sammy what she sees in Sachie, so it all evens out. It's a big je ne sais quoi to her.
--- "Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay waste." |
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