Elfen High 2 (OOC 7, Closed, Humans Not Allowed)

[Nationstatelandsville]

You are, of course, assisted by a talking gorilla.

Also, Nixon.

You children are strange.

Richard Nixon is just the same as any politician, but he looks and sounds so much like a supervillain that one can't help but conflate him into the ultimate evil.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

You children are strange.

Richard Nixon is just the same as any politician, but he looks and sounds so much like a supervillain that one can't help but conflate him into the ultimate evil.

People in India have a generally positive view of Nixon, actually, when we remember who he is.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

So I watched a bit of Ben 10 on my brother's suggestion and I've realised Paradox is the Doctor, but with a robotic hand.

[Nationstatelandsville]

So I watched a bit of Ben 10 on my brother's suggestion and I've realised Paradox is the Doctor, but with a robotic hand.

I hate myself for understanding and agreeing with this.

[Agritum]

So I watched a bit of Ben 10 on my brother's suggestion and I've realised Paradox is the Doctor, but with a robotic hand.

Paradox being a shout out to the Doctor is just as blatant as those white xenophobic aliens from season one of Alien Force basically being space Nazis.

[Esternial]

So I watched a bit of Ben 10 on my brother's suggestion and I've realised Paradox is the Doctor, but with a robotic hand.

I hate myself for understanding and agreeing with this.

I don't.

Points for Belgium!

[Nationstatelandsville]

So I watched a bit of Ben 10 on my brother's suggestion and I've realised Paradox is the Doctor, but with a robotic hand.

Paradox being a shout out to the Doctor is just as blatant as those white xenophobic aliens from season one of Alien Force basically being space Nazis.

Stop making me remember this crap!

Goddamn it, Italy.

[Esternial]

Paradox being a shout out to the Doctor is just as blatant as those white xenophobic aliens from season one of Alien Force basically being space Nazis.

Stop making me remember this crap!

Goddamn it, Italy.

Let me put your mind on something else.

You've already seen it, but one or ten times won't make a difference.

[Agritum]

Paradox being a shout out to the Doctor is just as blatant as those white xenophobic aliens from season one of Alien Force basically being space Nazis.

Stop making me remember this crap!

Goddamn it, Italy.

Man, Alien Force was nice.

Then Ultimate Alien happened, and it was shitty as fuck. Well, the first season was.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Stop making me remember this crap!

Goddamn it, Italy.

Man, Alien Force was nice.

Then Ultimate Alien happened, and it was shitty as fuck. Well, the first season was.

I am confused now.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Stop making me remember this crap!

Goddamn it, Italy.

Man, Alien Force was nice.

Then Ultimate Alien happened, and it was shitty as fuck. Well, the first season was.

Anything after the first series sucked.

But then, I had since drifted out of the target demographic, and their attempts at aging the show up were simply pathetic.

Man, Alien Force was nice.

Then Ultimate Alien happened, and it was shitty as fuck. Well, the first season was.

I am confused now.

It's like this - Ben 10 started as this bouncy kids' superhero show. They then realized that everyone who originally watched it had grown up, so they made it a much darker, shittier, more boring show about a whiny teenager who used to be a whiny kid, and is still a superhero.

Take Spider-Man, drain out all the color, and make him fight shitty-looking inbred Cthulus with the attitudes of Daleks.

[Ranbo]

It was not a dark and stormy night. Well, it was night, so naturally it was dark. As for storms, there was not a cloud in the sky. The streets of London were bathed in the calm glow of a full moon, illuminating the creeping shadows of the streetlights lining the barren sidewalks. A single man was hurrying through the sleeping city, aware of the unnatural quiet surrounding him.

The man was Scottish from birth, and a hint of accent crept through his speech. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he melded his figure into the darkness of every nook and cranny he passed by. His green eyes darting left, then right, he crossed the street quickly. The sooner he got out of this city of hell, the better. 

Stopping for a moment, he let out a sigh and slid a hand through his dirty blond hair. Taking out a small comb from his shirt sleeve, he brushed a single hair back from his forehead, re-establishing an aura of perfection. He wiped a bead of sweat from his dark brow. Heathrow was still quite a ways to go. 
 
"Damn the absence of taxis," He muttered to himself. 

Beginning his hurried pace once more, he glanced unnervingly around him. Something did not seem right to him. Something was off. "It has to be my imagination," He told himself, "Nobody is out tonight."

Still, he did not feel at ease. Rightfully so, since the man, passing a particular side street, heard a voice that made his blood run cold. 

"Tom, where the hell do you think you're going?"

Tom stopped. Turning around slowly, a massive gulp forming in his throat, he surveyed the man before him. Also in a crisp suit, this one bright pink, the man had a large beard dangling from his mouth area. It looked like he had eaten a dead squirrel, and had stopped right before the tail. And that was one damn long tail. Tom's eyes narrowing, he adopted a guise of confidence. 

"Aleister Crowley..." He said quietly, as if testing out the name, affirming that the man standing before him was indeed who he thought he was. "You took time away from your precious school to track down little ol' me? Why not send Richard or Minh instead?"

Crowley scoffed. "Bastard. I track you down and the only thing you can do is insult me? You have a smaller sack than I thought."

"Hypocrite," Tom muttered.

"As well I should be," Crowley answered cryptically...well, answering the first response he could think of. "You should know I'm taking time away from my...hobby just to get you back here. The least you can do is show some damn gratitude."

Tom wrinkled his nose. "You honestly think I'm going back to that cesspit?" Crowley blinked once, then answered honestly. "Um...yes?" Tom spat at the man. "Elfen High has been far from kind to me, you bastard. Those girls aren't the only thing you screw over, you know. The whole damn school is a joke."

Crowley, shaking his head, sighed. "That damn school took you in when you needed a home, and you made a good lot of friends there too. So, maybe my collection of ties were a bit too X-rated for you...that doesn't change the fact that this is the only family you've known."

"It's not."

Crowley stopped dead in his speech, shocked at the interruption. "What?"

Tom took a step forward. "You heard me. It's not. I'm a grown man now, and I can't stay at this school any longer. I know Minh's complacent with being your bitch, but I can't any longer."

His expression softened. "I've been contacted by an outside group, and have accepted their offer."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Who are these assholes, anyway? With the negative opinion you've acquired of me, I'd believe you wouldn't put it past me to send someone to destroy them."

Tom turned away from his mentor. "I know," He said quietly, "But, even you would not be foolhardy enough to decimate the government of Albania." Crowley's eyes widened, then his body deflated. "So," He said, "This is the level you have stooped to? Politics? For shame, Tom. For shame."

Beginning to walk away from Crowley, Tom could sense that he was making no effort to follow him. His fate had been chosen. Turning back one more time, he spoke. "I have one final favor to ask of you."

Crowley, who had turned his back as well, twisted his head to look at the man. He listened.

 "Whatever you do, wipe the rest of the school from remembering me. I do not wish to be even a faint memory. Whoever is there, and whoever will be there, one fact shall remain—Thomas R. Biddle has never attended Elfen High. I do not care about your memories, but all others should just forget."

"It's for the best."

Crowley, without saying a word, nodded. A single tear was forming in the corner of his left eye. Turning away once more, he was about to retreat into the darkness when Tom's voice rang out once more. What he said put a smile to his face, though he refused to acknowledge the remark by turning back. He vanished, leaving Tom's final words ringing in his ears:

"And for the life of everyone, cut that damn beard! You look like fucking Dumbledore!"

[Constaniana]

It was not a dark and stormy night. Well, it was night, so naturally it was dark. As for storms, there was not a cloud in the sky. The streets of London were bathed in the calm glow of a full moon, illuminating the creeping shadows of the streetlights lining the barren sidewalks. A single man was hurrying through the sleeping city, aware of the unnatural quiet surrounding him.

The man was Scottish from birth, and a hint of accent crept through his speech. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he melded his figure into the darkness of every nook and cranny he passed by. His green eyes darting left, then right, he crossed the street quickly. The sooner he got out of this city of hell, the better. 

Stopping for a moment, he let out a sigh and slid a hand through his dirty blond hair. Taking out a small comb from his shirt sleeve, he brushed a single hair back from his forehead, re-establishing an aura of perfection. He wiped a bead of sweat from his dark brow. Heathrow was still quite a ways to go. 
 
"Damn the absence of taxis," He muttered to himself. 

Beginning his hurried pace once more, he glanced unnervingly around him. Something did not seem right to him. Something was off. "It has to be my imagination," He told himself, "Nobody is out tonight."

Still, he did not feel at ease. Rightfully so, since the man, passing a particular side street, heard a voice that made his blood run cold. 

"Tom, where the hell do you think you're going?"

Tom stopped. Turning around slowly, a massive gulp forming in his throat, he surveyed the man before him. Also in a crisp suit, this one bright pink, the man had a large beard dangling from his mouth area. It looked like he had eaten a dead squirrel, and had stopped right before the tail. And that was one damn long tail. Tom's eyes narrowing, he adopted a guise of confidence. 

"Aleister Crowley..." He said quietly, as if testing out the name, affirming that the man standing before him was indeed who he thought he was. "You took time away from your precious school to track down little ol' me? Why not send Richard or Minh instead?"

Crowley scoffed. "Bastard. I track you down and the only thing you can do is insult me? You have a smaller sack than I thought."

"Hypocrite," Tom muttered.

"As well I should be," Crowley answered cryptically...well, answering the first response he could think of. "You should know I'm taking time away from my...hobby just to get you back here. The least you can do is show some damn gratitude."

Tom wrinkled his nose. "You honestly think I'm going back to that cesspit?" Crowley blinked once, then answered honestly. "Um...yes?" Tom spat at the man. "Elfen High has been far from kind to me, you bastard. Those girls aren't the only thing you screw over, you know. The whole damn school is a joke."

Crowley, shaking his head, sighed. "That damn school took you in when you needed a home, and you made a good lot of friends there too. So, maybe my collection of ties were a bit too X-rated for you...that doesn't change the fact that this is the only family you've known."

"It's not."

Crowley stopped dead in his speech, shocked at the interruption. "What?"

Tom took a step forward. "You heard me. It's not. I'm a grown man now, and I can't stay at this school any longer. I know Minh's complacent with being your bitch, but I can't any longer."

His expression softened. "I've been contacted by an outside group, and have accepted their offer."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Who are these assholes, anyway? With the negative opinion you've acquired of me, I'd believe you wouldn't put it past me to send someone to destroy them."

Tom turned away from his mentor. "I know," He said quietly, "But, even you would not be foolhardy enough to decimate the government of Albania." Crowley's eyes widened, then his body deflated. "So," He said, "This is the level you have stooped to? Politics? For shame, Tom. For shame."

Beginning to walk away from Crowley, Tom could sense that he was making no effort to follow him. His fate had been chosen. Turning back one more time, he spoke. "I have one final favor to ask of you."

Crowley, who had turned his back as well, twisted his head to look at the man. He listened.

 "Whatever you do, wipe the rest of the school from remembering me. I do not wish to be even a faint memory. Whoever is there, and whoever will be there, one fact shall remain—Thomas R. Biddle has never attended Elfen High. I do not care about your memories, but all others should just forget."

"It's for the best."

Crowley, without saying a word, nodded. A single tear was forming in the corner of his left eye. Turning away once more, he was about to retreat into the darkness when Tom's voice rang out once more. What he said put a smile to his face, though he refused to acknowledge the remark by turning back. He vanished, leaving Tom's final words ringing in his ears:

"And for the life of everyone, cut that damn beard! You look like fucking Dumbledore!"

Beautiful.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

It was not a dark and stormy night. Well, it was night, so naturally it was dark. As for storms, there was not a cloud in the sky. The streets of London were bathed in the calm glow of a full moon, illuminating the creeping shadows of the streetlights lining the barren sidewalks. A single man was hurrying through the sleeping city, aware of the unnatural quiet surrounding him.

The man was Scottish from birth, and a hint of accent crept through his speech. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he melded his figure into the darkness of every nook and cranny he passed by. His green eyes darting left, then right, he crossed the street quickly. The sooner he got out of this city of hell, the better. 

Stopping for a moment, he let out a sigh and slid a hand through his dirty blond hair. Taking out a small comb from his shirt sleeve, he brushed a single hair back from his forehead, re-establishing an aura of perfection. He wiped a bead of sweat from his dark brow. Heathrow was still quite a ways to go. 
 
"Damn the absence of taxis," He muttered to himself. 

Beginning his hurried pace once more, he glanced unnervingly around him. Something did not seem right to him. Something was off. "It has to be my imagination," He told himself, "Nobody is out tonight."

Still, he did not feel at ease. Rightfully so, since the man, passing a particular side street, heard a voice that made his blood run cold. 

"Tom, where the hell do you think you're going?"

Tom stopped. Turning around slowly, a massive gulp forming in his throat, he surveyed the man before him. Also in a crisp suit, this one bright pink, the man had a large beard dangling from his mouth area. It looked like he had eaten a dead squirrel, and had stopped right before the tail. And that was one damn long tail. Tom's eyes narrowing, he adopted a guise of confidence. 

"Aleister Crowley..." He said quietly, as if testing out the name, affirming that the man standing before him was indeed who he thought he was. "You took time away from your precious school to track down little ol' me? Why not send Richard or Minh instead?"

Crowley scoffed. "Bastard. I track you down and the only thing you can do is insult me? You have a smaller sack than I thought."

"Hypocrite," Tom muttered.

"As well I should be," Crowley answered cryptically...well, answering the first response he could think of. "You should know I'm taking time away from my...hobby just to get you back here. The least you can do is show some damn gratitude."

Tom wrinkled his nose. "You honestly think I'm going back to that cesspit?" Crowley blinked once, then answered honestly. "Um...yes?" Tom spat at the man. "Elfen High has been far from kind to me, you bastard. Those girls aren't the only thing you screw over, you know. The whole damn school is a joke."

Crowley, shaking his head, sighed. "That damn school took you in when you needed a home, and you made a good lot of friends there too. So, maybe my collection of ties were a bit too X-rated for you...that doesn't change the fact that this is the only family you've known."

"It's not."

Crowley stopped dead in his speech, shocked at the interruption. "What?"

Tom took a step forward. "You heard me. It's not. I'm a grown man now, and I can't stay at this school any longer. I know Minh's complacent with being your bitch, but I can't any longer."

His expression softened. "I've been contacted by an outside group, and have accepted their offer."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Who are these assholes, anyway? With the negative opinion you've acquired of me, I'd believe you wouldn't put it past me to send someone to destroy them."

Tom turned away from his mentor. "I know," He said quietly, "But, even you would not be foolhardy enough to decimate the government of Albania." Crowley's eyes widened, then his body deflated. "So," He said, "This is the level you have stooped to? Politics? For shame, Tom. For shame."

Beginning to walk away from Crowley, Tom could sense that he was making no effort to follow him. His fate had been chosen. Turning back one more time, he spoke. "I have one final favor to ask of you."

Crowley, who had turned his back as well, twisted his head to look at the man. He listened.

 "Whatever you do, wipe the rest of the school from remembering me. I do not wish to be even a faint memory. Whoever is there, and whoever will be there, one fact shall remain—Thomas R. Biddle has never attended Elfen High. I do not care about your memories, but all others should just forget."

"It's for the best."

Crowley, without saying a word, nodded. A single tear was forming in the corner of his left eye. Turning away once more, he was about to retreat into the darkness when Tom's voice rang out once more. What he said put a smile to his face, though he refused to acknowledge the remark by turning back. He vanished, leaving Tom's final words ringing in his ears:

"And for the life of everyone, cut that damn beard! You look like fucking Dumbledore!"

Now I want Crowley to grow a giant beard of sorrow.

[Nationstatelandsville]

...not a cloud in the sky... London...

Bullshit.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Here's a challenge for you lot- make a country app for some country, for amusement purposes.

Also, do you feel I should give everyone a point or two bonus now or there's no point whatsoever to it?

[Nude East Ireland]

Eastern Europe in EH suffers from being wastelands where monsters roam day-and-night to eat people.

So very similar to actual Eastern Europe, really.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Eastern Europe in EH suffers from being wastelands where monsters roam day-and-night to eat people.

So very similar to actual Eastern Europe, really.

I've already shown Belarus, which is actually doing pretty well.

[Nude East Ireland]

Eastern Europe in EH suffers from being wastelands where monsters roam day-and-night to eat people.

So very similar to actual Eastern Europe, really.

I've already shown Belarus, which is actually doing pretty well.

Bullshit. It's all lies from the Orwellian government that runs the European Union.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I feel like all classes in Faerie University are taught in Irish.

Because fuck the UK.

[Nude East Ireland]

I feel like all classes in Faerie University are taught in Irish.

Because fuck the UK.

It's a mix of Irish and English.

[Individuality-ness]

Maybe I should make a rough map of New Geneva for reference.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I feel like all classes in Faerie University are taught in Irish.

Because fuck the UK.

It's a mix of Irish and English.

So just partially "fuck the UK" then.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Maybe I should make a rough map of New Geneva for reference.

Go for it. I always love it when other people do my work.

[Individuality-ness]

Maybe I should make a rough map of New Geneva for reference.

Go for it. I always love it when other people do my work.

Working on it.