As one of the better small heavy cruisers, you should be able to get her eventually with the standard heavy cruiser recipe. (I believe it's the same as the rare destroyer and sub recipe.)
De3ta reads....Ambience: A Fleet Symphony.
- Thread starter De3ta
- Start date
Mega1987
A TTK somewhere at Kancolle's Iwagawa Airfield
- Location
- somewhere at Kancolle's Iwagawa Airfield
or just farm her....
HOW DID I MISS THIS AMAZING THING. THANK"S SHEO! *MWAA*
- Location
- Philippines
"Sheo?"
Yes, De3ta? Muwahahaha!
"What is this?"
A parodic palate cleanser for the poor souls who have read Asshole: A Festering Cacophony! Muwahahaha!
"Explain. Further."
I wrote a parody of certain parts of the first chapter that pokes 18" gun barrels through the massive plot holes of A:AFS. And I beat NuclearNickel to writing one! Muwahahaha!
"Oh. Thanks. I needed this."
You're welcome. It's the least I can do after you introduced me to Murakumo (A:AFS). Muwahahaha!
"So why did you tie me to a chair?"
So that you cannot escape this nonstandard psychiatric treatment of your psychological trauma! Muwahahaha!
"…There's a big flaw in your logic."
You're right. I need to get NuclearNickel and Anonymous Rabbit here, too. Wait here! Muwahahaha!
"Can you leave one of my arms free? I need to scratch my nose. It's itchy."
Ah, sure, sorry about that. Muwahahaha!
Nukes fall, Crazy Steve's parents die, The End.
Boo! Copout!
x-x-x
You Know The Other Famous Franchise That Uses World War III As A Premise?
KNOCK KNOCK?
The future mother of Crazy Steve peered through the gap offered by her partly-opened door.
"Are you the future mother of Crazy Steve?" asked the huge German man wearing sunglasses.
"Oh, yes, why?"
BANG!
Best Terminator movie, ever.
"Freeze!"
Crazy Steve was stunned to find his blue-haired cool self actually complying with the harshly-barked order. He stared at the trench coat-clad man who was flamboyantly perched atop the tottering tatters of the rotted Houston city-scape.
"Both you and this stinkin' castle can burn for all I care!" cackled the sunglasses-wearing maniac. "So long!"
Crazy Steve had seen some shit. But even he was forced to mutter, "Who the hell are you?" Because they weren't in a castle, they were in Houston.
His opponent sneered.
The Dog Bites Back
Crazy Steve hated dogs. He had always rooted for the villains of Scooby-Doo. They had such lofty goals and cool tricks. And they would have gotten away with their plans if it weren't for those meddling kids and their damned Great Dane.
So when he heard the howls of feral wild dogs who know what he is because they haven't smelled his kind for so long (which makes absolutely sense since there are assholes aplenty in this world with him being the Platonic ideal of the asshole of assholes), he took out his bastardized take on a perfectly functional Malaysian weapon and prepared to murder the f*ck out of the incoming wildlife because he was a cat person.
That is when the brick wall he is using for cover shatters as something big plows through it. (You see, what counts as cover for some is merely concealment to others who are big enough.)
But Crazy Steve dodged in the nick of time thanks to his protagonist powers. He took up an awesome martial arts pose to confront his hated attacker as it emerged from the cloud of pulverized stone that was actually too small to conceal it.
The mutated dog was the size of a sedan. The surging sinews of the stalking radioactive monster caused its fur to ripple like the grassy cover of a wind-swept veldt. Its eyes were intelligent, and the fangs revealed by its hungry grin were the size and sharpness of short swords.
But Crazy Steve was unfazed by the killing machine lifted straight out of the death world that was After Earth. He was badass.
"Bring it," he taunted the mutation while brandishing his fancy shmancy pocket knife.
Two more mutant dogs stalked forward. Smaller than their alpha male, they were still around the size of a compact car.
The rest of the pack appeared around Crazy Steve, a ring of muscle and fangs cutting off all avenues of retreat.
"This might be a challenge," he lied to himself.
And the pack of cerberi ate the Edge Lord. And there was much rejoicing. Yay.
Bark, Bark
Crazy Steve refuses to concede that he had been caught completely off guard when the first dog declines to vault over the decaying wall that he is using as concealment for his ambush. Perhaps if he bothered taking an actual look at his approaching attackers, he would have seen that their legs are too short.
Instead the rabid canine very sensibly rounded the corner and started yarping at him.
"A corgi?" Crazy Steve muttered.
"Bark bark bark!"
"Stupid little shit," Crazy Steve said as he attempted to strike the dwarf dog in its low-slung chest in order to severe the spinal discs of its dumpy legs while somehow bypassing the rest of its spine.
That's when PT-109 shot him in the face with a canister round from its nonstandard M3 37mm AT gun.
Crazy Steve lurked behind the chest-high wall that is his trusty friend. It had never failed him. It will protect him from the wild dogs that have been barking nonstop at his general direction without actually attacking him for some reason.
KABOOM!
"Lesson One," Lieutenant Hate, USMC, blows the cordite smoke from the wide muzzle of the 46 centimeter Type 94 mated to an AR lower. "Concealment is not cover when heavy weapons are involved," he instructed the crater in the ground at which his hunting corgi had been barking at to designate it as a target.
Hate is the Hero A:AFS deserves.
Very Important Person I
A rash of red dots spread across Crazy Steve's body like a crimson plague from a wrathful pagan god. A good number were centered upon his equipment-festooned upper chest, the so-called sniper's triangle. Others covered his limbs. One was directly atop his crotch.
He counted at least thirty barrels leveled at him, and the smallest of the firearms appeared to be battle rifle caliber, big enough to punch through his makeshift armor. The biggest, a 120 mm tank gun, was the one pointed at his crotch.
"Did you really think an invaluable scientist like me would be alone in the middle of an irradiated wasteland without any form of protection?" asked the loudspeaker of the public address system at the entrance of the heavily fortified and guarded military base.
Seriously, when CATS is a better villain than Crazy Steve...
Very Important Person II
"Did you really think an invaluable scientist like me would be alone in the middle of an irradiated wasteland without any form of protection?" mocked the "Constitution" scientist who was theatrically swaggering towards the astonished Crazy Steve, whom he'd treated like a football during kickoff.
"Why won't you die?!" the battered Crazy Steve demanded to know.
Still laughing, the scientist seized the front of his lab coat and tore off his loose white garment to reveal the barn-broad chest lurking within his clothes. A complex network of bulging veins radiated from the center of his muscular torso, a spider's web spun out of molten magma that turned his skin as dark and hard and razor sharp as volcanic obsidian.
Crazy Steve becomes even more pathetic when compared with well-written villains who are truly perfect…
This Isn't 24, You Know
Crazy Steve pronounced the name, reference number, and password that he'd ruthlessly extracted from that F.L.E.E.T. Project scientist who was inexplicably stranded in the middle of a post-apocalyptic Portland, Oregon for the last nineteen years without the slightest shadow of a protective detail.
"Bart Simpson, reference number 69-666. Password: HAL-9000."
In the subsequent single second of silence, Crazy Steve starts stroking his murder boner by fantasizing about the brutal punishment that he will inflict on Simpson for misleading him with false information that he obtained through cold-blooded torture
[I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Dave,] Murakumo spoke up in a monotone.
"What," blinked Crazy Steve as his private crazy time is interrupted.
[Nuclear self-destruct sequence activated. Better Dead Than Red.]
"What?"
Oh, make no mistake about it, Crazy Steve was crazy fast and immune to the deadly effects of an irradiated environment, which constituted 5% of the yield of a typical nuclear weapon.
But the blast wave of the one kiloton fission device traveled much faster than him, and the accompanying thermal flash was many times hotter than the mere residual radiation of the nuclear fallout that had turned Houston into a supposedly uninhabitable wasteland.
In Portland, Oregon, Ken Simpson lets out a low laugh. Revenge is best served cold.
And That Is Why They're Called Destroyers
Crazy Steve had enough of Murakumo's free will. No one in this world deserved to have the right of self-determination except himself who was the perfect person to enjoy the right to do whatever the hell he wanted. So he whipped out his nanometer-thin harpoon-bladed data knife and stabbed her in her head, intending to pierce her brain so that he could reprogram her into a loyal slave soldier.
CLONK!
The impact made Murakumo flinch. A couple of seconds later, her wincing expression turned into a frown. Another few moments later, she was glaring 61 centimeter Oxygen Torpedoes at him.
"Did you just try to stab me in the head?" she scowled.
Crazy Steve stared at his ineffective data knife. "That… that should have worked," he muttered.
"I'm a naval warship in the body of a human girl," Murakumo pointed out. "What part of stabbing me with a knife is a good idea?"
"You should have been brainwashed to obey me," he insisted.
White eyebrows furrowed. A nerve on her brow twitched.
The rightfully incensed Murakumo punched Crazy Steve in his equipment-festooned chest. Given she was the reincarnation of a 2,000 ton destroyer powered by fifty thousand indicated horsepower, her fist punched through his bling of war, through his heartless chest cavity, and out of his back.
Belated Battleship
Crazy Steve had enough of the blathering ship-girl's free will. No one in this world deserved to have the right of self-determination except himself who was the perfect person to enjoy the right to do whatever the hell he wanted. So he whipped out his nanometer-thin harpoon-bladed data knife and stabbed her in her head, intending to pierce her brain so that he could reprogram her into a loyal slave soldier.
CLONK!
The impact made the tall ship-girl flinch. A couple of seconds later, her wince became a frown. Another few moments later, she was glaring 14"/45 caliber naval rifles at him.
"Did you just try to stab me in the head?" she scowled.
Crazy Steve stared at his ineffective data knife. "That… that should have worked," he muttered.
"I'm a naval warship in the body of a human woman," she pointed out. "What part of stabbing me with a knife is a good idea?"
"You should have been brainwashed to obey me," he insisted.
That was the worst thing to tell a warship named after The Banner State, one of the first states that won independence through blood and sacrifice, whose unofficial motto warns possible foes not to mess with its constituents, some of the most independent-minded and heavily armed citizens of the United States of America.
So Battleship Thirty-Five, super dreadnought USS Texas, decked Crazy Steve with all of her righteous 14-inch might.
Given she's a thirty-three thousand ton warship propelled by 28,100 indicated horsepower, Crazy Steve was reduced to a smear across the ground.
x-x-x
One Riot
"Crazy Steve," quietly ordered the rangy and kindly man wearing the open vest and Stetson Hat. "You're under arrest for torture, murder, cruelty to animals, possession of unlicensed firearms, openly carrying firearms without a license, aggravated assault and battery, and being a badly-written Marty Stu. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you."
Of course Crazy Steve would not have that. He was the protagonist. He is above the law. He is the law. (Eat your heart out, Judge Dread, because you have one; Crazy Steve is edgier than you! The Edgelord Edgemaster!)
No one can stop him! Not defenseless scientists who are more useful for The Simpsons jokes than for actual plot! Not comatose ship-girls whom he can Hollywood hack with a nanomaterial knife that the high levels of background radiation really should have fried! Not the Abyssals or those guys from the other earlier equally shitty fic!
And certainly not this blue-eyed copper who has somehow protected the thriving and peaceful community of Houston, Texas for decades, long before he was a gleam in his daddy's eyes, all without resorting to gun porn or gratuitous violence upon animals!
He quickly learned that there is no chin within the bristling brown beard of Cordell Walker, merely the meaty knuckles of a third calloused fist that can indeed stop him cold in his tracks.
Roundhouse kicking into windshields ensued.
Murakumo (A:AFS) corralled her writer at his desk. "Did you just kill me in the self-destruct snippet?" she exclaimed.
"Sheo!" her sisters snapped. "You said no Murakumos were harmed in this parody!"
Their writer blinked. …Huh. I did not think that one through, he admitted.
"You idiot!" they yelled at him while their sixth and newest sister stares at the hubbub.
"Does this happen all the time?" asked the confused Velasco, the Alsedo class destroyer from Victory Belles, newest member of SecRon Kumo (Massed Clouds: The Gathering).
[You get used to it,] giggled Murakumo (Abyss).
Beatings ensued. Everyone involved enjoyed it.
Yes, De3ta? Muwahahaha!
"What is this?"
A parodic palate cleanser for the poor souls who have read Asshole: A Festering Cacophony! Muwahahaha!
"Explain. Further."
I wrote a parody of certain parts of the first chapter that pokes 18" gun barrels through the massive plot holes of A:AFS. And I beat NuclearNickel to writing one! Muwahahaha!
"Oh. Thanks. I needed this."
You're welcome. It's the least I can do after you introduced me to Murakumo (A:AFS). Muwahahaha!
"So why did you tie me to a chair?"
So that you cannot escape this nonstandard psychiatric treatment of your psychological trauma! Muwahahaha!
"…There's a big flaw in your logic."
You're right. I need to get NuclearNickel and Anonymous Rabbit here, too. Wait here! Muwahahaha!
"Can you leave one of my arms free? I need to scratch my nose. It's itchy."
Ah, sure, sorry about that. Muwahahaha!
In a feat worthy of a Mission Impossible movie, De3ta was able to escape the evil lair of Sheo Darren and inform Secretary Squadron Murakumo, who promptly administered a most tsundere beating to their shitty cloud captain.
And now, without any further ado, Sheo Darren Shipping Lines present…
x=x=x
Reality Ensues
a parody of A:AFS
written for De3ta, Nuclear Nickel, and Anonymous Rabbit
Disclaimer
No Murakumos were hurt in the making of this parody. The same will never apply to Crazy Steve because f*ck him.
x=x=x
CHAPTER 01
That still only counts as one!
x-x-x
Tomb of Horrors Is Tame Compared To This Sh*tAnd now, without any further ado, Sheo Darren Shipping Lines present…
x=x=x
Reality Ensues
a parody of A:AFS
written for De3ta, Nuclear Nickel, and Anonymous Rabbit
Disclaimer
No Murakumos were hurt in the making of this parody. The same will never apply to Crazy Steve because f*ck him.
x=x=x
CHAPTER 01
That still only counts as one!
x-x-x
Nukes fall, Crazy Steve's parents die, The End.
Boo! Copout!
x-x-x
KNOCK KNOCK?
The future mother of Crazy Steve peered through the gap offered by her partly-opened door.
"Are you the future mother of Crazy Steve?" asked the huge German man wearing sunglasses.
"Oh, yes, why?"
BANG!
Best Terminator movie, ever.
x-x-x
A Wild Dog Appears
"Freeze!"
Crazy Steve was stunned to find his blue-haired cool self actually complying with the harshly-barked order. He stared at the trench coat-clad man who was flamboyantly perched atop the tottering tatters of the rotted Houston city-scape.
"Both you and this stinkin' castle can burn for all I care!" cackled the sunglasses-wearing maniac. "So long!"
Crazy Steve had seen some shit. But even he was forced to mutter, "Who the hell are you?" Because they weren't in a castle, they were in Houston.
His opponent sneered.
x-x-x
The Dog Bites Back
Crazy Steve hated dogs. He had always rooted for the villains of Scooby-Doo. They had such lofty goals and cool tricks. And they would have gotten away with their plans if it weren't for those meddling kids and their damned Great Dane.
So when he heard the howls of feral wild dogs who know what he is because they haven't smelled his kind for so long (which makes absolutely sense since there are assholes aplenty in this world with him being the Platonic ideal of the asshole of assholes), he took out his bastardized take on a perfectly functional Malaysian weapon and prepared to murder the f*ck out of the incoming wildlife because he was a cat person.
That is when the brick wall he is using for cover shatters as something big plows through it. (You see, what counts as cover for some is merely concealment to others who are big enough.)
But Crazy Steve dodged in the nick of time thanks to his protagonist powers. He took up an awesome martial arts pose to confront his hated attacker as it emerged from the cloud of pulverized stone that was actually too small to conceal it.
The mutated dog was the size of a sedan. The surging sinews of the stalking radioactive monster caused its fur to ripple like the grassy cover of a wind-swept veldt. Its eyes were intelligent, and the fangs revealed by its hungry grin were the size and sharpness of short swords.
But Crazy Steve was unfazed by the killing machine lifted straight out of the death world that was After Earth. He was badass.
"Bring it," he taunted the mutation while brandishing his fancy shmancy pocket knife.
Two more mutant dogs stalked forward. Smaller than their alpha male, they were still around the size of a compact car.
The rest of the pack appeared around Crazy Steve, a ring of muscle and fangs cutting off all avenues of retreat.
"This might be a challenge," he lied to himself.
And the pack of cerberi ate the Edge Lord. And there was much rejoicing. Yay.
No picture? Meh.
x-x-x
x-x-x
Bark, Bark
Crazy Steve refuses to concede that he had been caught completely off guard when the first dog declines to vault over the decaying wall that he is using as concealment for his ambush. Perhaps if he bothered taking an actual look at his approaching attackers, he would have seen that their legs are too short.
Instead the rabid canine very sensibly rounded the corner and started yarping at him.
"A corgi?" Crazy Steve muttered.
"Bark bark bark!"
"Stupid little shit," Crazy Steve said as he attempted to strike the dwarf dog in its low-slung chest in order to severe the spinal discs of its dumpy legs while somehow bypassing the rest of its spine.
That's when PT-109 shot him in the face with a canister round from its nonstandard M3 37mm AT gun.
x-x-x
>>Deploy Hate
Crazy Steve lurked behind the chest-high wall that is his trusty friend. It had never failed him. It will protect him from the wild dogs that have been barking nonstop at his general direction without actually attacking him for some reason.
KABOOM!
"Lesson One," Lieutenant Hate, USMC, blows the cordite smoke from the wide muzzle of the 46 centimeter Type 94 mated to an AR lower. "Concealment is not cover when heavy weapons are involved," he instructed the crater in the ground at which his hunting corgi had been barking at to designate it as a target.
Hate is the Hero A:AFS deserves.
x-x-x
Very Important Person I
A rash of red dots spread across Crazy Steve's body like a crimson plague from a wrathful pagan god. A good number were centered upon his equipment-festooned upper chest, the so-called sniper's triangle. Others covered his limbs. One was directly atop his crotch.
He counted at least thirty barrels leveled at him, and the smallest of the firearms appeared to be battle rifle caliber, big enough to punch through his makeshift armor. The biggest, a 120 mm tank gun, was the one pointed at his crotch.
"Did you really think an invaluable scientist like me would be alone in the middle of an irradiated wasteland without any form of protection?" asked the loudspeaker of the public address system at the entrance of the heavily fortified and guarded military base.
Seriously, when CATS is a better villain than Crazy Steve...
x-x-x
Very Important Person II
"Did you really think an invaluable scientist like me would be alone in the middle of an irradiated wasteland without any form of protection?" mocked the "Constitution" scientist who was theatrically swaggering towards the astonished Crazy Steve, whom he'd treated like a football during kickoff.
"Why won't you die?!" the battered Crazy Steve demanded to know.
Still laughing, the scientist seized the front of his lab coat and tore off his loose white garment to reveal the barn-broad chest lurking within his clothes. A complex network of bulging veins radiated from the center of his muscular torso, a spider's web spun out of molten magma that turned his skin as dark and hard and razor sharp as volcanic obsidian.
Crazy Steve becomes even more pathetic when compared with well-written villains who are truly perfect…
x-x-x
This Isn't 24, You Know
Crazy Steve pronounced the name, reference number, and password that he'd ruthlessly extracted from that F.L.E.E.T. Project scientist who was inexplicably stranded in the middle of a post-apocalyptic Portland, Oregon for the last nineteen years without the slightest shadow of a protective detail.
"Bart Simpson, reference number 69-666. Password: HAL-9000."
In the subsequent single second of silence, Crazy Steve starts stroking his murder boner by fantasizing about the brutal punishment that he will inflict on Simpson for misleading him with false information that he obtained through cold-blooded torture
[I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Dave,] Murakumo spoke up in a monotone.
"What," blinked Crazy Steve as his private crazy time is interrupted.
[Nuclear self-destruct sequence activated. Better Dead Than Red.]
"What?"
Oh, make no mistake about it, Crazy Steve was crazy fast and immune to the deadly effects of an irradiated environment, which constituted 5% of the yield of a typical nuclear weapon.
But the blast wave of the one kiloton fission device traveled much faster than him, and the accompanying thermal flash was many times hotter than the mere residual radiation of the nuclear fallout that had turned Houston into a supposedly uninhabitable wasteland.
In Portland, Oregon, Ken Simpson lets out a low laugh. Revenge is best served cold.
And That Is Why They're Called Destroyers
Crazy Steve had enough of Murakumo's free will. No one in this world deserved to have the right of self-determination except himself who was the perfect person to enjoy the right to do whatever the hell he wanted. So he whipped out his nanometer-thin harpoon-bladed data knife and stabbed her in her head, intending to pierce her brain so that he could reprogram her into a loyal slave soldier.
CLONK!
The impact made Murakumo flinch. A couple of seconds later, her wincing expression turned into a frown. Another few moments later, she was glaring 61 centimeter Oxygen Torpedoes at him.
"Did you just try to stab me in the head?" she scowled.
Crazy Steve stared at his ineffective data knife. "That… that should have worked," he muttered.
"I'm a naval warship in the body of a human girl," Murakumo pointed out. "What part of stabbing me with a knife is a good idea?"
"You should have been brainwashed to obey me," he insisted.
White eyebrows furrowed. A nerve on her brow twitched.
FINISH HIM!!!
The rightfully incensed Murakumo punched Crazy Steve in his equipment-festooned chest. Given she was the reincarnation of a 2,000 ton destroyer powered by fifty thousand indicated horsepower, her fist punched through his bling of war, through his heartless chest cavity, and out of his back.
Nano-blade brain hacking knives in 2029, my Filipino-Chinese-Spanish arse...
x-x-x
Belated Battleship
Crazy Steve had enough of the blathering ship-girl's free will. No one in this world deserved to have the right of self-determination except himself who was the perfect person to enjoy the right to do whatever the hell he wanted. So he whipped out his nanometer-thin harpoon-bladed data knife and stabbed her in her head, intending to pierce her brain so that he could reprogram her into a loyal slave soldier.
CLONK!
The impact made the tall ship-girl flinch. A couple of seconds later, her wince became a frown. Another few moments later, she was glaring 14"/45 caliber naval rifles at him.
"Did you just try to stab me in the head?" she scowled.
Crazy Steve stared at his ineffective data knife. "That… that should have worked," he muttered.
"I'm a naval warship in the body of a human woman," she pointed out. "What part of stabbing me with a knife is a good idea?"
"You should have been brainwashed to obey me," he insisted.
That was the worst thing to tell a warship named after The Banner State, one of the first states that won independence through blood and sacrifice, whose unofficial motto warns possible foes not to mess with its constituents, some of the most independent-minded and heavily armed citizens of the United States of America.
So Battleship Thirty-Five, super dreadnought USS Texas, decked Crazy Steve with all of her righteous 14-inch might.
Given she's a thirty-three thousand ton warship propelled by 28,100 indicated horsepower, Crazy Steve was reduced to a smear across the ground.
x-x-x
One Riot
"Crazy Steve," quietly ordered the rangy and kindly man wearing the open vest and Stetson Hat. "You're under arrest for torture, murder, cruelty to animals, possession of unlicensed firearms, openly carrying firearms without a license, aggravated assault and battery, and being a badly-written Marty Stu. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you."
Of course Crazy Steve would not have that. He was the protagonist. He is above the law. He is the law. (Eat your heart out, Judge Dread, because you have one; Crazy Steve is edgier than you! The Edgelord Edgemaster!)
No one can stop him! Not defenseless scientists who are more useful for The Simpsons jokes than for actual plot! Not comatose ship-girls whom he can Hollywood hack with a nanomaterial knife that the high levels of background radiation really should have fried! Not the Abyssals or those guys from the other earlier equally shitty fic!
And certainly not this blue-eyed copper who has somehow protected the thriving and peaceful community of Houston, Texas for decades, long before he was a gleam in his daddy's eyes, all without resorting to gun porn or gratuitous violence upon animals!
He quickly learned that there is no chin within the bristling brown beard of Cordell Walker, merely the meaty knuckles of a third calloused fist that can indeed stop him cold in his tracks.
Roundhouse kicking into windshields ensued.
x-x-x
Parodist's Notes
Parodist's Notes
Murakumo (A:AFS) corralled her writer at his desk. "Did you just kill me in the self-destruct snippet?" she exclaimed.
"Sheo!" her sisters snapped. "You said no Murakumos were harmed in this parody!"
Their writer blinked. …Huh. I did not think that one through, he admitted.
"You idiot!" they yelled at him while their sixth and newest sister stares at the hubbub.
"Does this happen all the time?" asked the confused Velasco, the Alsedo class destroyer from Victory Belles, newest member of SecRon Kumo (Massed Clouds: The Gathering).
[You get used to it,] giggled Murakumo (Abyss).
Beatings ensued. Everyone involved enjoyed it.
Last edited:
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
Murakumo: ......
......
Murakumo: Why...
I don't know. Don't ask.
Shigure: De3ta, we're waiting for the next update. Waiting warmly~.
......
Murakumo: Why...
I don't know. Don't ask.
Shigure: De3ta, we're waiting for the next update. Waiting warmly~.
InfiniteDaze
Too lazy to leave the house
- Location
- I wish I could stay
The best part.
Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
@Sheo Darren but IIRC didn't Walker work outta Dallas, not Houston?
Ah well.
Roundhouse kicks for days.
Ah well.
Roundhouse kicks for days.
- Location
- Void of Observation
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
Any of you guys brave enough to post these parodies on FF.net for shits and giggles?
Mega1987
A TTK somewhere at Kancolle's Iwagawa Airfield
- Location
- somewhere at Kancolle's Iwagawa Airfield
Well... A:AFS just updated to it's 205th chapter...
So... Should we ready a coffin instead of a straight jacket?
Considering the author of the story update it every two days atm...
De3ta might not finish doing his reaction review of the story before he can catch up to the author when he slow down...
So... Should we ready a coffin instead of a straight jacket?
Considering the author of the story update it every two days atm...
De3ta might not finish doing his reaction review of the story before he can catch up to the author when he slow down...
De3ta
Mae
- Location
- The hellish pit known as New Jersey
*Ch-ink*
I don't know about you, but I've already gotten started on my own grave.
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
I'm probably more drunk than you right now. In other news, in an hour or so I should be finished with the next chapter.
- Location
- Void of Observation
If I write mine...
Fuck it, I shall put it as a omake chapter to Abyssal Collection.
Mega1987
A TTK somewhere at Kancolle's Iwagawa Airfield
- Location
- somewhere at Kancolle's Iwagawa Airfield
Gonna ask ya.
You just started reading A:AFS. right?
If yes. You have a long way to go.
If not. You're like me, already watch the fic and have read the latest chapter asap...
Last edited:
De3ta
Mae
- Location
- The hellish pit known as New Jersey
I mean I read the TVtropes spoilers so I know a sprinkle of most parts of the fic, granted I've forgotten or repressed most of it but it's there.
De3ta
Mae
- Location
- The hellish pit known as New Jersey
F**k it lets see where this shit goes!
De3ta
Mae
- Location
- The hellish pit known as New Jersey
HE IS NIT DOING THIS RIGHT NOW
MOTHER FUCKER IS FIGHTING DOOMGUY
EHAAHAHAHSHJDJCJCJCUF
NuclearNickel
smug.jpg
- Location
- Bootes Void
*Looks at his parody which actually has a bit of length and manor of seriousness mixed in with the comedy*
One day, Sheo.
One day.
One day, Sheo.
One day.
De3ta
Mae
- Location
- The hellish pit known as New Jersey
Okay no, just an Outlast reject with chainsaw hand. False Alarm
- Location
- Void of Observation
Should I vandalise the TVTropes page?
Its full of...disgusting worship.
Its full of...disgusting worship.
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
No, don't. It's not worth it. It's never worth it. Don't step down unto their level.
NuclearNickel
smug.jpg
- Location
- Bootes Void
The Let's read challenge begins!
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
De3ta
Mae
- Location
- The hellish pit known as New Jersey
FUCKING CHRIST
- Location
- Void of Observation