Megan looked between the two boys she was with, staring. "I shoulda just stayed put. Just stay in one place like a good little girl, but no, no, I had to be dignified and heroic and angry and decide to save people. And who do I have to save? Your sorry asses! Hey-Zeus Cristoh boys, you really gonna make a lady of my caliber deal with this bullshit?"
Megan turned to face Bryant. "You were told to deliver a message, this is not the fucking mafia, are you are just lucky that Luke Mendoza doesn't sleep with the fucking fishes! If you can't talk without your fists, then maybe I should just let America judge you as a horrid person, because you are not doing anything to help yourself! Head in the game bromide, head in the game!"
She turned back to Luke. "And okay, yeah, I guess self-defense works, and it also works because I no longer have the ability to cry and am currently running on empty, so I don't have enough energy to waste being pissed off at your stupid ass. And it since Matt made out with you, that makes you an official part of Team Bitchin. STD's count as members Luke, so welcome to the team."
She sighed, flipping her hair back. "And Brendon and I...decided to take a break. He's with Alex, last that I knew." Megan clutched her head, rubbing her temples again. She was going to wear out her own fingerprints if this headache kept raging. "Fuck. I shouldn't have left him. Not for this bullshit. You two are like fucking 12 year olds, fighting over fucking dominance of a fucking hill in a fucking playground and I. Will. not. Handle. Your. Mother. Fucking. SHIT!"
Megan stopped, looking between the two. A smile spread across her face. "There! I feel so much better now! You know, last time I got this pissed off, I headbutted someone, so consider yourselves lucky. Well...okay, Bryant, you kinda got the short end of that stick, but yeah, whatever."
She looked at Luke's bag, walking towards it. She almost bent down, but something stopped her. She didn't want to open it. It made everything very creepily real. "Weapons, eh? I guess we can use 'em, but I'm not killing anyone."
"Me? No, I'm going to fuck up this game, truly and royally. And that requires starting a little fire. A metaphorical fire. Or, like, a real fire, if that floats your boat. Although fires and me, yeah, we don't go so well. Also, kinda been there, done that.
"But yeah, I'm talking some Master Ridley shit, some magical domino effects of making everyone in fucking dumbass America realize that you and me are all real people doing real shit. And I don't know if I can really reach someone, but damnit, I'm gonna try, because at this point I'm mostly dead anyways.
"So my plan is to take everything and change it all. We're going to blur the lines between villains and heroes, make people realize that the government is fighting against them, all that awesome conspiracy shit. Not that I exactly know how to yet, but that's beside the point."
She grinned, pointing to Luke and Bryant.
"The point is that you two fuckers are going to help me."
Show Them What the Backs of Our Hands Are For
PM for entry.
Moderator: Sh4dE
-
Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"You know what?" He couldn't think of anything to say, as being called gay had left him speechless. "Whatever man!"
He stood up, slight embarrassment over-taking the pain a bit. A hit to the ego once again. It was as if they were just in some school yard teasing rather than the program.
"Luke Mendoza: is NOT GAY America!" he said as his eyes searched for some hidden camera in the vicinity. He looked at the other two who were just looking at him weirdly, realizing how awkward he was being. "Um, just didn't wanna die, with everyone thinking I like guys, that's all..."
Funny how even in a game of death it's little things like this that still work. The word: gay used for teasing for example.
Then Megan started ranting and scolding the two of them again, for arguing and fighting like 12 years olds. Luke's head was down, like Carver's until Megan made that crack about Luke and Matt and the making out and the STDs. He rose his head and kind of smiled at those comments. Cause yeah, they were funny.
Apparently he was now part of the new incarnation of this family called: Team Bitchin' and he wondered what it would have been like if he joined up with Megan and the others back at the Officer's Quarters. If he hadn't of been so emo at the time, he wouldn't have ran into Alex Thornton. He wouldn't have killed Alex, and all this bullshit he had gone through after it. Joanne and especially Matt might have still been alive. He felt sick of himself for not going up to the group when he first saw them. Everything could have been so much different, than what he had become.
He followed Megan to his bag of weapons, trying to ignore Johan's dead body nearby. Maddie Harris did this, but I enabled it...
She started giving him and Bryant her plan. Luke kind of got what she was saying. Blurring the lines between villains and heroes. That everyone in the program were just regular people. The 'two fuckers,' Luke and Bryant were the perfect start to help her start that domino effect: They were known killers in the compound.
Luke nodded. "Matt wanted me to help you and Brendon, so I will."
He bent down to his bag, opening it then pulling out Sor's hatchet. He held it in the air examining it, before holding it out in offer to Megan.
"It was my friend, Logan Sorenson's. Think you'd make good use of it." Kind of symbolic of him to get this weapon from a strong female and passing it on to another strong female. Like mom.
Luke noticed Bryant was unarmed as well. He assumed Bryant had a gun somewhere near, before ambushing him, but in case he didn't Luke pulled out the fire axe.
"It's the fire axe Joanne used to cut me. Unless you already have a weapon." Luke said as he pulled up his sleeve to show the slice on his arm, among others.
He pulled out his Rough Rider Revolver as well and quickly shoved it in his pocket, showing them that he was safe. He also pulled out his movie-star-like shades to cover his now slightly black eyes. Thanks Bryant, ya asshole.
"I had another gun, a bigger one, but my other friend Ryan Montoya had it. She got one of those Mason twins, but the other one shot at us, and we got split up. I need to find her too. If she gets killed, then that gun could fall into the wrong hands."
He paused. Could they really find and stop the other killers like Brett Torres or John Ferrara or Sophie Mason who still wanted to kill him, probably even more then before or even worse, Madeline Harris from killing anymore, and join their cause? Megan's plan was awfully idealistic. Sure it had worked on himself, but he doubted this plan would work on the other members of the "dark side" that's for sure. But it couldn't hurt to try. He could try to convince his "Hit Girl" Kami Steele at least. That much he could do, he thought, maybe?
He thought of the others who were still here and still sane. Had his reputation affected them? Megan was here, and seemed forgiving. He was gonna help her, so one objective was complete... but there was still: Brendon, Alex, Chalmers, Juliet. Those four people he still had an incomplete task to complete.
"I'm in. I don't wanna have to kill anyone - anymore, either."
He stood up, slight embarrassment over-taking the pain a bit. A hit to the ego once again. It was as if they were just in some school yard teasing rather than the program.
"Luke Mendoza: is NOT GAY America!" he said as his eyes searched for some hidden camera in the vicinity. He looked at the other two who were just looking at him weirdly, realizing how awkward he was being. "Um, just didn't wanna die, with everyone thinking I like guys, that's all..."
Funny how even in a game of death it's little things like this that still work. The word: gay used for teasing for example.
Then Megan started ranting and scolding the two of them again, for arguing and fighting like 12 years olds. Luke's head was down, like Carver's until Megan made that crack about Luke and Matt and the making out and the STDs. He rose his head and kind of smiled at those comments. Cause yeah, they were funny.
Apparently he was now part of the new incarnation of this family called: Team Bitchin' and he wondered what it would have been like if he joined up with Megan and the others back at the Officer's Quarters. If he hadn't of been so emo at the time, he wouldn't have ran into Alex Thornton. He wouldn't have killed Alex, and all this bullshit he had gone through after it. Joanne and especially Matt might have still been alive. He felt sick of himself for not going up to the group when he first saw them. Everything could have been so much different, than what he had become.
He followed Megan to his bag of weapons, trying to ignore Johan's dead body nearby. Maddie Harris did this, but I enabled it...
She started giving him and Bryant her plan. Luke kind of got what she was saying. Blurring the lines between villains and heroes. That everyone in the program were just regular people. The 'two fuckers,' Luke and Bryant were the perfect start to help her start that domino effect: They were known killers in the compound.
Luke nodded. "Matt wanted me to help you and Brendon, so I will."
He bent down to his bag, opening it then pulling out Sor's hatchet. He held it in the air examining it, before holding it out in offer to Megan.
"It was my friend, Logan Sorenson's. Think you'd make good use of it." Kind of symbolic of him to get this weapon from a strong female and passing it on to another strong female. Like mom.
Luke noticed Bryant was unarmed as well. He assumed Bryant had a gun somewhere near, before ambushing him, but in case he didn't Luke pulled out the fire axe.
"It's the fire axe Joanne used to cut me. Unless you already have a weapon." Luke said as he pulled up his sleeve to show the slice on his arm, among others.
He pulled out his Rough Rider Revolver as well and quickly shoved it in his pocket, showing them that he was safe. He also pulled out his movie-star-like shades to cover his now slightly black eyes. Thanks Bryant, ya asshole.
"I had another gun, a bigger one, but my other friend Ryan Montoya had it. She got one of those Mason twins, but the other one shot at us, and we got split up. I need to find her too. If she gets killed, then that gun could fall into the wrong hands."
He paused. Could they really find and stop the other killers like Brett Torres or John Ferrara or Sophie Mason who still wanted to kill him, probably even more then before or even worse, Madeline Harris from killing anymore, and join their cause? Megan's plan was awfully idealistic. Sure it had worked on himself, but he doubted this plan would work on the other members of the "dark side" that's for sure. But it couldn't hurt to try. He could try to convince his "Hit Girl" Kami Steele at least. That much he could do, he thought, maybe?
He thought of the others who were still here and still sane. Had his reputation affected them? Megan was here, and seemed forgiving. He was gonna help her, so one objective was complete... but there was still: Brendon, Alex, Chalmers, Juliet. Those four people he still had an incomplete task to complete.
"I'm in. I don't wanna have to kill anyone - anymore, either."
Bryant had to give it to the bitch. She had some balls. Big, brass, polished cojones. He guessed he could get behind that. Not that he knew what the fuck she was planning. Frankly, it scared the shit out of him.
Luke came over to Bryant, offered him an axe, but he held his palm out, rejecting the offer. "I'm good. Got shit enough to deal with things. And you already know, nigga." He held up his knuckles. "I'm a weapon myself."
He watched Luke put on the shades.
My fault, man.
He walked over to where he had dropped his bag and shotgun, procured both, and walked back over to Megan and Luke. He looked to the girl, who before had been berating the shit out of them.
"Whatchoo got, cracker? Keep in mind I gotta find somebody, still." He scuffed his foot on the ground, smirked. "I can't drop everything for your ass." These words were delivered with a light tone.
Luke came over to Bryant, offered him an axe, but he held his palm out, rejecting the offer. "I'm good. Got shit enough to deal with things. And you already know, nigga." He held up his knuckles. "I'm a weapon myself."
He watched Luke put on the shades.
My fault, man.
He walked over to where he had dropped his bag and shotgun, procured both, and walked back over to Megan and Luke. He looked to the girl, who before had been berating the shit out of them.
"Whatchoo got, cracker? Keep in mind I gotta find somebody, still." He scuffed his foot on the ground, smirked. "I can't drop everything for your ass." These words were delivered with a light tone.
-
Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Megan didn't feel so good.
All of the sudden, two memories that Megan was particularly fond of came rushing back, nearly knocking her down with force. Matt and Brendon. Matt and Brendon.
Fuck.
Luke was handing her a hatchet, and Megan was looking at it, and all of the sudden everything was rushing around in her head like goldfish, only not the cool Goldfish that were made of smilies, the weird creepy goldfish that you got in bags in the carnival and that died almost instantly.
Brendon and Matt.
Things had gone bad. Rotten, sour, like milk that had been left out too long, and when did that even happen? Go fuck Bryant Carver, she was better off fucking him than even looking at Brendon, with his smug face and his better than thou attitude and him looking at her, calling her stupid, making her feel small and like nothing like always, like before.
And then Megan was back to about a week before the Program, to sitting in the living room with her brother, who was looking at her like she was under a microscope, and Megan getting angry and asking him "what the fuck are you looking at douchenozzle?"
"Aren't you a poet, Megan?" Marten eyes were narrowed, and Megan shifted uncomfortably.
"Yeah, and?"
"Why don't you act like it?"
"What the fuck are you talking about Marten?"
"You! You yell and you swear and you curse and you aren't...eloquent. Christ Megan, you're a poet who can't speak English right. I'm worried about you!"
"Worried about me? Why in God's name do you even give shit Marten?
"Because you're gonna have to be in the army someday Megan, you're gonna have to face the fact that you're going to fight real people, real living human beings, and you can't stand on the frontlines and crack jokes hoping to get rid of the enemies! That's not how war works!"
"Don't you dare fucking condescend at me!"
"Megan, when are you going to grow the fuck up? You walk like a lion in the clothes of a lamb who thinks she's a wolf and is actually an ant! You don't even know who you are! You're confused and you're lost and-
"Fuck you Marten!"
"And you're crazy Megan! You're crazy for thinking you can just live this way!"
"Fuck you, that's easy for you to say!" And Megan was up off the couch now, turning and screaming at her brother. "You're the perfect one, you're the nice one, you're the smart one, just let me be the fuck up, alright? Just accept it like I accepted it, it's cool, I'm fine with being nothing, I'm fine with being shit, it's easier and it's funnier and it's nicer and it's cooler, and let me fucking have that Marten! Let me have it!"
Megan Jacobson was so content with being a fuck up, but now, now she was something else. She was strong, and smart, and she was on the Program, and there was a reason for that! There was a reason for her being here, it was her destiny, she was going to fix shit, to change shit, and everything would end up okay, somehow. Even if she died. It was all worth it.
Somewhere, deep in the darkest corners of Megan's mind, there was a part of her begging for words. Begging for Megan to scream at the hatchet in Luke's hand, to scream that she had just preached against searching for weapons to Brendon and Alex, to scream at herself that she was still stuck in movie mode, that she was still afraid of dying, that maybe Marten was right and she was just too afraid, and she was lost in this version of herself that she couldn't handle.
Megan was living in constant fear, because she didn't want to die, she didn't want to die for nothing, and so she had to die for something, right? She'd been a good person, she'd done good things, she hadn't killed anyone, so she had to die for a reason, because that was what was right.
Somewhere along the way, Megan had caved into idealism and lost herself, somewhere along the way when she had met John Ferrera and realized that people were willing to kill, when she had watched two people die, and suddenly reality just wasn't nice anymore.
And somewhere deep inside, she'd figured it out. She'd gone crazy and the worst part?
No one had even fucking noticed.
Not Brendon, not Matt, not Bryant or Luke or Alex or Abby. Not one fucking person had noticed that Megan had been so close to the edge that a blink in the wrong direction could send her toppling over, and now most of them were gone.
People a thousand times better than Megan were gone and it didn't make any sense. She had to be destined for something greater, because otherwise everyone else died for nothing. She was living for nothing. She was nothing.
Someone blinked, and now Megan was flying over the edge, into a hole so deep and so dark and so long that she probably wouldn't even notice she was falling until she'd hit the bottom and shattered into a thousand little pieces.
That was what Megan was thinking, way deep in the corners of her mind.
But they weren't thinking loud enough, so she said nothing. She didn't even look oddly. She just smiled at Luke, grabbed the hatchet, and grinned. "Fucking sweet!"
And then she turned, to Bryant, still grinning. "And you know I could kick your ass. This white girl comes packing Helmut, remember?"
an utterly retarded football helmet
"And you will drop everything for my ass, because it is amazing, obviously."
fatass, fatass, fatass, fatass, Massive Megan, Massive Megan, fatass! Hahahahahaha!
"Now, all we have to do is start humanizing our little statistics here. Which shouldn't be so hard. I think that we probably ought to start by addressing like, I dunno, their parents or something? They're probably the people who got hit the hardest by their deaths, so we can use that to try and sway them.
You're a fuckup. Worthless ugly fuckup. Stupid fat worthless ugly fuckup.
No. Not anymore. Now there's purpose, and there's reason, and everythings going to be okay because Brendon pinky-
"...Pinky swore. Shit. Fuck! I broke my own pinky swear! God, I made him promise he wouldn't leave and then I left...fuck. I guess we've got to go back and get Brendon's dumbass now, huh? Bitch has some explaining to do."
But he'll come back and he won't be mad because that's what happens, the friend and hero break apart in Act II but by Act III they're partners together and everything's alright. And that just makes me the person in the movie yelling that this isn't a movie, but life imitates art, right? So I can still apply movie logic, because Brendon is my best friend, my only friend left, and he matters, and he has to come back because that's just how it works.
"Alright. Look alive sunbeams, we've got us some work to do."
Smile. Big and wide. Everything's okay now. You found your place. You found your calling. You are not a fuck up. You are perfect.
No one would ever notice. Not Brendon, not Byrant, not Luke, not even Megan. Not until everything was over.
No one would ever look deep enough to figure it out.
She was helpless.
And she was okay with that, somehow. Maybe it just made things easier. Maybe it just made things hurt a little bit less.
All of the sudden, two memories that Megan was particularly fond of came rushing back, nearly knocking her down with force. Matt and Brendon. Matt and Brendon.
Fuck.
Luke was handing her a hatchet, and Megan was looking at it, and all of the sudden everything was rushing around in her head like goldfish, only not the cool Goldfish that were made of smilies, the weird creepy goldfish that you got in bags in the carnival and that died almost instantly.
Brendon and Matt.
Things had gone bad. Rotten, sour, like milk that had been left out too long, and when did that even happen? Go fuck Bryant Carver, she was better off fucking him than even looking at Brendon, with his smug face and his better than thou attitude and him looking at her, calling her stupid, making her feel small and like nothing like always, like before.
And then Megan was back to about a week before the Program, to sitting in the living room with her brother, who was looking at her like she was under a microscope, and Megan getting angry and asking him "what the fuck are you looking at douchenozzle?"
"Aren't you a poet, Megan?" Marten eyes were narrowed, and Megan shifted uncomfortably.
"Yeah, and?"
"Why don't you act like it?"
"What the fuck are you talking about Marten?"
"You! You yell and you swear and you curse and you aren't...eloquent. Christ Megan, you're a poet who can't speak English right. I'm worried about you!"
"Worried about me? Why in God's name do you even give shit Marten?
"Because you're gonna have to be in the army someday Megan, you're gonna have to face the fact that you're going to fight real people, real living human beings, and you can't stand on the frontlines and crack jokes hoping to get rid of the enemies! That's not how war works!"
"Don't you dare fucking condescend at me!"
"Megan, when are you going to grow the fuck up? You walk like a lion in the clothes of a lamb who thinks she's a wolf and is actually an ant! You don't even know who you are! You're confused and you're lost and-
"Fuck you Marten!"
"And you're crazy Megan! You're crazy for thinking you can just live this way!"
"Fuck you, that's easy for you to say!" And Megan was up off the couch now, turning and screaming at her brother. "You're the perfect one, you're the nice one, you're the smart one, just let me be the fuck up, alright? Just accept it like I accepted it, it's cool, I'm fine with being nothing, I'm fine with being shit, it's easier and it's funnier and it's nicer and it's cooler, and let me fucking have that Marten! Let me have it!"
Megan Jacobson was so content with being a fuck up, but now, now she was something else. She was strong, and smart, and she was on the Program, and there was a reason for that! There was a reason for her being here, it was her destiny, she was going to fix shit, to change shit, and everything would end up okay, somehow. Even if she died. It was all worth it.
Somewhere, deep in the darkest corners of Megan's mind, there was a part of her begging for words. Begging for Megan to scream at the hatchet in Luke's hand, to scream that she had just preached against searching for weapons to Brendon and Alex, to scream at herself that she was still stuck in movie mode, that she was still afraid of dying, that maybe Marten was right and she was just too afraid, and she was lost in this version of herself that she couldn't handle.
Megan was living in constant fear, because she didn't want to die, she didn't want to die for nothing, and so she had to die for something, right? She'd been a good person, she'd done good things, she hadn't killed anyone, so she had to die for a reason, because that was what was right.
Somewhere along the way, Megan had caved into idealism and lost herself, somewhere along the way when she had met John Ferrera and realized that people were willing to kill, when she had watched two people die, and suddenly reality just wasn't nice anymore.
And somewhere deep inside, she'd figured it out. She'd gone crazy and the worst part?
No one had even fucking noticed.
Not Brendon, not Matt, not Bryant or Luke or Alex or Abby. Not one fucking person had noticed that Megan had been so close to the edge that a blink in the wrong direction could send her toppling over, and now most of them were gone.
People a thousand times better than Megan were gone and it didn't make any sense. She had to be destined for something greater, because otherwise everyone else died for nothing. She was living for nothing. She was nothing.
Someone blinked, and now Megan was flying over the edge, into a hole so deep and so dark and so long that she probably wouldn't even notice she was falling until she'd hit the bottom and shattered into a thousand little pieces.
That was what Megan was thinking, way deep in the corners of her mind.
But they weren't thinking loud enough, so she said nothing. She didn't even look oddly. She just smiled at Luke, grabbed the hatchet, and grinned. "Fucking sweet!"
And then she turned, to Bryant, still grinning. "And you know I could kick your ass. This white girl comes packing Helmut, remember?"
an utterly retarded football helmet
"And you will drop everything for my ass, because it is amazing, obviously."
fatass, fatass, fatass, fatass, Massive Megan, Massive Megan, fatass! Hahahahahaha!
"Now, all we have to do is start humanizing our little statistics here. Which shouldn't be so hard. I think that we probably ought to start by addressing like, I dunno, their parents or something? They're probably the people who got hit the hardest by their deaths, so we can use that to try and sway them.
You're a fuckup. Worthless ugly fuckup. Stupid fat worthless ugly fuckup.
No. Not anymore. Now there's purpose, and there's reason, and everythings going to be okay because Brendon pinky-
"...Pinky swore. Shit. Fuck! I broke my own pinky swear! God, I made him promise he wouldn't leave and then I left...fuck. I guess we've got to go back and get Brendon's dumbass now, huh? Bitch has some explaining to do."
But he'll come back and he won't be mad because that's what happens, the friend and hero break apart in Act II but by Act III they're partners together and everything's alright. And that just makes me the person in the movie yelling that this isn't a movie, but life imitates art, right? So I can still apply movie logic, because Brendon is my best friend, my only friend left, and he matters, and he has to come back because that's just how it works.
"Alright. Look alive sunbeams, we've got us some work to do."
Smile. Big and wide. Everything's okay now. You found your place. You found your calling. You are not a fuck up. You are perfect.
No one would ever notice. Not Brendon, not Byrant, not Luke, not even Megan. Not until everything was over.
No one would ever look deep enough to figure it out.
She was helpless.
And she was okay with that, somehow. Maybe it just made things easier. Maybe it just made things hurt a little bit less.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Bryant turned down the fire axe, for his own shotgun, obviously. Said he was a weapon himself. To which Luke sneered, knowing full well. What, with the black eyes, and aching torso.
On the other hand, Megan happily accepted Sor's hatchet. Then she started telling more of her plan, which Luke had promised to help with. The hard part was, that with Megan's constant ranting, and rambling, it made it a little difficult to follow, exactly what it was that he was supposed to be doing for her.
Kinda glad, he had shades on, hiding his increasingly confused expression.
They had work to do, she said, to which Luke nodded. "Um yeah. Finding Brendon sounds good... hopefully he doesn't beat the shit out of me, as soon as he sees me... like pretty much what's been happenin' to me the whole day."
He shrugged.
"Whatever work needs to be done, like I said, I'll help."
On the other hand, Megan happily accepted Sor's hatchet. Then she started telling more of her plan, which Luke had promised to help with. The hard part was, that with Megan's constant ranting, and rambling, it made it a little difficult to follow, exactly what it was that he was supposed to be doing for her.
Kinda glad, he had shades on, hiding his increasingly confused expression.
They had work to do, she said, to which Luke nodded. "Um yeah. Finding Brendon sounds good... hopefully he doesn't beat the shit out of me, as soon as he sees me... like pretty much what's been happenin' to me the whole day."
He shrugged.
"Whatever work needs to be done, like I said, I'll help."
Bryant keyed in on something Megan said, craned his neck a little, checked the veracity of the statement.
"Ass is ok. I give it a 7. You ain't no sistah."
Bryant hefted the shotgun, held it up in two hands, and popped his neck.
"Alright then. We gonna get rolling and do whatever the fuck, let's roll. I can feel myself getting older."
He looked out into the compound, struck as always by the sense of danger that seemed to permeate it. Somehow, it seemed just a little less dangerous.
((Bryant Carver continued in Naptime))
"Ass is ok. I give it a 7. You ain't no sistah."
Bryant hefted the shotgun, held it up in two hands, and popped his neck.
"Alright then. We gonna get rolling and do whatever the fuck, let's roll. I can feel myself getting older."
He looked out into the compound, struck as always by the sense of danger that seemed to permeate it. Somehow, it seemed just a little less dangerous.
((Bryant Carver continued in Naptime))
-
Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Megan craned her own neck to look at her backside. "7? Uh, hell no! It is a 9 and a half, 9 at the least! I am so white I'm practically black, Bryant, and you know it! You just aren't ready for this jelly is all."
fattttttttaaaaaaaaassssssssssss
Okay, you know what head-me? Inner-self? Whatever? Yeah, I'm getting sick of you. So you can go right ahead and shut the fuck up now, kay? Awesometastic.
"Wait we're leaving? What? Damnit Bryant, you aren't allowed to start leaving while I'm still talking to the voices in my head!"
Beat.
"Wait, no, that wasn't as bad as it sounded."
Another beat.
"Fuck! Bryant, wait up! I'm normal, honest!"
((Megan Jacobson continued in Naptime))
fattttttttaaaaaaaaassssssssssss
Okay, you know what head-me? Inner-self? Whatever? Yeah, I'm getting sick of you. So you can go right ahead and shut the fuck up now, kay? Awesometastic.
"Wait we're leaving? What? Damnit Bryant, you aren't allowed to start leaving while I'm still talking to the voices in my head!"
Beat.
"Wait, no, that wasn't as bad as it sounded."
Another beat.
"Fuck! Bryant, wait up! I'm normal, honest!"
((Megan Jacobson continued in Naptime))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Luke found himself craning his neck with Bryant and Megan toward the latter's backside.
Not bad, better than my dead ass, that's for sure.
Thank's for your commentary Sor.
Anytime. Luke.
Then Bryant headed out of the area. Megan, saying exactly what Luke was thinking; about voices in his head. She followed him away too. This was all really amusing, actually.
He sighed, straightening the shades, putting the bag over his shoulder, and his hands in pockets to follow them. He really should have joined 'Team Bitchin' when he had the chance. Would have been alot more fun then, well, what he did.
End of Chapter / Thread.
Not bad, better than my dead ass, that's for sure.
Thank's for your commentary Sor.
Anytime. Luke.
Then Bryant headed out of the area. Megan, saying exactly what Luke was thinking; about voices in his head. She followed him away too. This was all really amusing, actually.
He sighed, straightening the shades, putting the bag over his shoulder, and his hands in pockets to follow them. He really should have joined 'Team Bitchin' when he had the chance. Would have been alot more fun then, well, what he did.
End of Chapter / Thread.