welcome
Welcome delinquents to PHS #552. A few reminders, no rough housing, no running in the hallways, no cheating, and no talking back to your teachers. Beyond that, enjoy yourselves. After all these are the years you’ll look back on, and remember, you mother fuckers peaked too early.
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credits
Public Highschool #552 was rebooted by Xereon and Aether. Content is copyrighted to PHS #552 unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney and has been heavily edited. Banner Image Credit. Chatbox Credit
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NEW RP DISCORD SERVER. CONTACT "Shugo Yuy#5730" ON DISCORD FOR INFO. |
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COME IN COME ALL AND WATCH THE SPECTACULAR STUDENTS FROM PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL 552 AS THEY PIT AGAINST EACH OTHER IN BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN! Watch as students go toe to toe on this little tournament with an unbelievable budget allocation! See them bite each other in arena made of LEGOS! Make each other bleed in an artificial JUNGLE!, even go as far as making them break bones under an artificial STORM! Really, HOW BIG IS THE BUDGET ON THIS SHIT! SO PLACE OUR BETS AND GO WATCH BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN NOW!
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A brand new group is on the making, The Apostles, a Pillar-like group led by none other than our brand new headmaster, Gregoire Girard. A student body that would lead students and enforce the law on this little school of ours. Little is still known about this student body, but who knows? It might just be what the school needs.
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A lunch box is seen last Friday, around 12:37:08pm with an encouraging note packed inside. This appalling display that utterly lacked manliness has left many students stunned and outrage, as some decided, after a long while, to speak out against it.
Full Story Here.
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I couldn't even see! (Ira)
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Aaron Hollows on Oct 9, 2015 18:42:53 GMT -5
Aaron slammed down his shot glass, looking at the time. It was late, nearly three am. He stood, stumbled a little, then dropped a huge handful of cash on the counter as he walked out the door. It...had been a long day. He shook his head quickly, the world blurry and lids slightly drooped. He stuck his hands in his pockets and heaved a huge sight, starting off down the street back toward the school.
Yes...a long day indeed.
He fumbled with his eyes on the door, then dropped them, staring down at them like they might as well have fallen into china. He sighed and bent, picking them up and heaving a huge breath. He fell backward, landing on his rump and looking up at the door, scratching his chin.
"Son of a bitch.....can't i just.....go lie down?"
He lay down on his back, spread eagle, the world spinning.
He hadn't been this drunk since Afghanistan.
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Oct 15, 2015 2:42:22 GMT -5
Pushing a pebble that was determinedly wedging itself in her way, she proceeded down the gnarled twisty path. It was alight with menacing illuminating light. They were ephemeral, Ira observed, like her supposed fun.
Touching the edge of the wall, her eyes were preoccupied with a grown man, evidently collapsed near a room that was housing alcoholic roars of emotion.
She had never believed in drunken nights betraying the sober minds.
Curiosity piqued, she ventured cautiously to the man, rocking precisely on her heels to ensure a fixed flight instinct. Gentle pausing to press her fingers slightly against his wrist,and her question was answered by two, quick thumps of a heartbeat. Smirking, she straightened up, and did what she always does best--she begin talking.
'Dom Perignon invented champagne." She paused, as the next line of words sequenced themselves neatly in her mouth, prepared to be used. "When he did, he called out to his fellow monks, 'Come quickly: I'm tasting the stars.'" her smirk grew wider as she leaned to whisper quietly in his ear, as his alcoholic breath encased the two in what seemed like a drunken cage.
"Looks like you are star-struck." her eyes gleamed.
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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“
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Aaron Hollows on Oct 15, 2015 17:05:09 GMT -5
Aaron turn his face toward hers quickly as she leaned in and, without meaning to- kissed her. His eyelids closed a little before he slowly pulled away, then cleared his throat. Uh.....right.
"My uh....bad....The door won't open."
He brought his arm up with the keys, jingling them about a little in front of her face with a little smirk. His lips still tingled slightly- that was not what he was meaning to get at- in face, he was just shocked she got so close. He reached up and touched them, then chuckled to himself.
Fucking alcohol.
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Oct 25, 2015 8:01:35 GMT -5
Ira wasn't sure how to react. That, unfortunately, was the first.
Yelping out in shock, she hastily scrambled backwards and slammed right into a street pole. Without wincing too much, her hands fumbled about for her pepper stray as her heartbeat accelerated an unnecessary amount. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the next best thing she would have wanted to do, aside from slapping him in the face and screaming like a chicken.
"At the very least," She snapped and stood up with tremendous dignity. "You'll be sacred in India."
Slinging a cowbell that she savaged out of her bag around his neck, her eyes flashed as she briefly considered between blasting Justin Bieber in his ear to ensure that he would have to endure an abysmal amount of torture.
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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“
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Aaron Hollows on Oct 26, 2015 12:42:21 GMT -5
Aaron blinked as he was slapped, grunting a little as his face jerked to the side. He let his head go slack, the back of it bumping against the concrete as she seemed to be (quite justly) freaked out. He would turn his head to look over at her hands, which held the pepper spray before he cleared his throat. " I'm uh...sorry. You look like....my ex. You're....not her though. She died...in Fallujah." He groaned as he sat erecord, reaching up and scritching the back of his head rather obnoxiously. He would stand and stumble backward a few steps before throwing out his hands to the sides like a gymnast on a tight-wire walk. He would took down at his shirt, covered in food and alcohol, and frown. Clearly, he was off his game tonight. Why was that? What was it about today that had him so out of sorts? Was it....right. Mom's....mom's birthday. She died just a few months ago. She would have been forty eight. He would stumble over to his bench and let out a sigh as he sat, still eying the girl whom he could still taste on his lips. " Listen....listen girl. I'm not going to hurt you..." Not that she had reason to believe him. TAG: Ira Defaire |
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