Beep boop. Anxiety and shame spike 2000 degrees. Disengage from topic.
Meggy immediately looked down, shoving the remaining bits of donut back in her mouth and started to chew like her life depended on it. She then took a large sip of her coffee “I guess so…”
Insert Cop Joke here
Mid January (Open)
-
SharkyTGirl185
- Posts: 294
- Joined: Mon Jun 10, 2024 7:16 pm
- Location: The Middle of Earth
May Love Guide you!
"No one wants to be Morty, not even Morty." Quick reaction, instinctual retch in response to a gut punch, spitting out words and air. Sore spotthat she'd ever unironically liked Mortimer fucking Schaub. Some changes were a net good.
Stella wanted her attention and queen bee could have it. It was comfortable not having to be too defensiveThat's why Mona loved the drugs. Stella smiled with her eyes. Mona smiled with her whole ass face, casual lips and teeth and even a bit of finger adjusting a loose strand of bangs. Not for the clout, but just because pretty demanded prettyand okay fine, never bring anything less than a gun to a gun fight, even if the shooting had long stopped.
"That how deep your influence goes, hm? I'll consider it." A shrug. "I didn't get you aaaanything, but if you'll hear me out."
Pause. Thread dangling, pick up the other one with delicate fingerscalm down Meggy you'll be dealing with much worse when you're working the force.
"Stella has a good point, I don't think she's trying to intimidate you. You need to know what you're getting into, in full." Good and badimagine having a career. Imagine having a future. Grooooss.
Back to Stella, gentle eyes without body. Like an aside between almost friendsmaybe in another life she could have been one of Stella's goons. Might not have been the worst fate.
"Ever hear of the paradox of control?" Not like Mona had heard much about it herself. Just a couple of online articles that had left an impression.
Stella wanted her attention and queen bee could have it. It was comfortable not having to be too defensiveThat's why Mona loved the drugs. Stella smiled with her eyes. Mona smiled with her whole ass face, casual lips and teeth and even a bit of finger adjusting a loose strand of bangs. Not for the clout, but just because pretty demanded prettyand okay fine, never bring anything less than a gun to a gun fight, even if the shooting had long stopped.
"That how deep your influence goes, hm? I'll consider it." A shrug. "I didn't get you aaaanything, but if you'll hear me out."
Pause. Thread dangling, pick up the other one with delicate fingerscalm down Meggy you'll be dealing with much worse when you're working the force.
"Stella has a good point, I don't think she's trying to intimidate you. You need to know what you're getting into, in full." Good and badimagine having a career. Imagine having a future. Grooooss.
Back to Stella, gentle eyes without body. Like an aside between almost friendsmaybe in another life she could have been one of Stella's goons. Might not have been the worst fate.
"Ever hear of the paradox of control?" Not like Mona had heard much about it herself. Just a couple of online articles that had left an impression.
"Mmmmmm," rising pitch, subtle head tilt. Left side of Stella's mouth winced itself inward. Brow furrowed. Gaze consistent, solid.
Slow second of dead air.
"...Sorry, you'll have to be more specific? Like, the Peltzmann effect, orrrrr do you mean, like, Barbara Streisand's house?..."
Slow second of dead air.
"...Sorry, you'll have to be more specific? Like, the Peltzmann effect, orrrrr do you mean, like, Barbara Streisand's house?..."
none of you can prove im in v8
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
-
SharkyTGirl185
- Posts: 294
- Joined: Mon Jun 10, 2024 7:16 pm
- Location: The Middle of Earth
Meghan nodded a bit, bringing her thermos to her lips “Yeah, the Peltzmann effect, that’s what happens during the Prohibition Era I’m pretty sure.”
She took the last sip of her coffee, stopping at that very moment.
Coffee? Finished. Donuts? Eaten.
Meaning?
Free to excuse herself.
“Well. This has been a fun conversation. But I should get going. Coffee, it goes through me quickly.” She laughs off a little as she collected her pail and thermos, happily standing up “Stella, it’s been great catching up! And uh, Mona. I uh, glad to eat with ya’! Uhm, talk to you later!”
She happily turned on her heels, skipping away as quickly as possible.
Another successful conversation, just stop talking about booze.
((Meghan “Meggy” Roberts continued elsewhere…))
She took the last sip of her coffee, stopping at that very moment.
Coffee? Finished. Donuts? Eaten.
Meaning?
Free to excuse herself.
“Well. This has been a fun conversation. But I should get going. Coffee, it goes through me quickly.” She laughs off a little as she collected her pail and thermos, happily standing up “Stella, it’s been great catching up! And uh, Mona. I uh, glad to eat with ya’! Uhm, talk to you later!”
She happily turned on her heels, skipping away as quickly as possible.
Another successful conversation, just stop talking about booze.
((Meghan “Meggy” Roberts continued elsewhere…))
May Love Guide you!
"Been good, Meggy,"-chan, "Don't be a stranger." Smile with both corners of her lips, wave with two fingers. Mona offered the cop good wishes, brutally awkward 'I'm going to be in the bathroom for the rest of lunch' exit strat and all. She was a good kid, much as Mona didn't consider that an inherent value statementbetter would have been having a kind heart and a sharp mind, as opposed to taking 20-some Ls in the span of half as many minutes.
"... You got me. Pulled that term out of my ass without aaaall the needed context." Mona's cheer idled. Acid meeting a base, neutral. Lower lip inert.
"Meggy connected the dots on that one well." Mona rolled her eyes, up part way and no further. "Must have missed when we learned that in Psych class." Why no, she did not even pay attention in the class version of her favorite subjectthat didn't involve God. It was a matter of principlethat she was butthurt eternally, something like that.
"I was going more for the Streisand effect one, I suppose." Even gaze. Mona didn't back down from a fightshe didn't win a fight, natch. "I think most people will resist their own efforts at self-control to a degree." She searched for the soul behind the green in Stella's eyes. "No matter how good they are at it. Sometimes noooot fighting the impulses works out better, y'know?"
Mona summoned into her hand her phone, the latest edition Google Pixel, the one with the monochrome less-than-tastefully dressed robot anime girl flaunted on the case. Without looking at the screen she efficiently tapped into and swiped her Instagram. She briefly migrated her attention onto Ingrid, who was alternating like a current between staring at the boys (who were, supposedly, allegedly, still present) and Stella with a protective concern knotting her brow. Loyalty. QuaintMona was, of course, jealous.
She presented her offering to Stella with a flip of her phone screen, not having glanced down once to get a perfectly centered and zoomed in image. Minimal graphic design, maximal colors, pastels and neons, lasers. The Platonic ideal of a sweaty, mindless, heaving crowd. A rave with a date and no location given. Twenty-one plus.
A veeery bisexual image, no ifs ands or buts about it.
"Private booth, 'course. My friends take care of me."
Supposedly her friends. Maaaaybe they wanted Mona there to be more than just a pretty face.
"Might be a step beyond what you guys get up to in Silver Springs after games." A shrug, one shoulder, a slight tilt of her head in the opposite direction. "But not by much. But by enough to make it a place where you're a nobody. No image to live up to."
"... You got me. Pulled that term out of my ass without aaaall the needed context." Mona's cheer idled. Acid meeting a base, neutral. Lower lip inert.
"Meggy connected the dots on that one well." Mona rolled her eyes, up part way and no further. "Must have missed when we learned that in Psych class." Why no, she did not even pay attention in the class version of her favorite subjectthat didn't involve God. It was a matter of principlethat she was butthurt eternally, something like that.
"I was going more for the Streisand effect one, I suppose." Even gaze. Mona didn't back down from a fightshe didn't win a fight, natch. "I think most people will resist their own efforts at self-control to a degree." She searched for the soul behind the green in Stella's eyes. "No matter how good they are at it. Sometimes noooot fighting the impulses works out better, y'know?"
Mona summoned into her hand her phone, the latest edition Google Pixel, the one with the monochrome less-than-tastefully dressed robot anime girl flaunted on the case. Without looking at the screen she efficiently tapped into and swiped her Instagram. She briefly migrated her attention onto Ingrid, who was alternating like a current between staring at the boys (who were, supposedly, allegedly, still present) and Stella with a protective concern knotting her brow. Loyalty. QuaintMona was, of course, jealous.
She presented her offering to Stella with a flip of her phone screen, not having glanced down once to get a perfectly centered and zoomed in image. Minimal graphic design, maximal colors, pastels and neons, lasers. The Platonic ideal of a sweaty, mindless, heaving crowd. A rave with a date and no location given. Twenty-one plus.
A veeery bisexual image, no ifs ands or buts about it.
"Private booth, 'course. My friends take care of me."
Supposedly her friends. Maaaaybe they wanted Mona there to be more than just a pretty face.
"Might be a step beyond what you guys get up to in Silver Springs after games." A shrug, one shoulder, a slight tilt of her head in the opposite direction. "But not by much. But by enough to make it a place where you're a nobody. No image to live up to."
Well, Mona didn't need to worry -- Meggy didn't know what the Peltzmann effect was either.
Stella waved her goodbye.
An-y-waaaays. So, Mona. Mona, Mona, Mona.
Head tilt, eyebrow raised like a skeptical Marcia Brady's. "Oooh, listen to you, you're like a cult recruiter..."
Wasn't like Red Rock had a shortage of Grimes-fan Crowleyite sex pests with degrees in philosophy from the Bay Area Rationalism University of Complaining About Games Journalism. Stella already had enough of the rave experience just at school on the reg, you know?
Not to be, like, judgmental about her classmates' lifestyle choices or anythiiiiing.
...
Her eyes flicked down to the phone's screen.
...
And back up to meet Mona's.
Pursed her lips slightly, sighed inwardly.
"What's the set list like?"
Stella waved her goodbye.
An-y-waaaays. So, Mona. Mona, Mona, Mona.
Head tilt, eyebrow raised like a skeptical Marcia Brady's. "Oooh, listen to you, you're like a cult recruiter..."
Wasn't like Red Rock had a shortage of Grimes-fan Crowleyite sex pests with degrees in philosophy from the Bay Area Rationalism University of Complaining About Games Journalism. Stella already had enough of the rave experience just at school on the reg, you know?
Not to be, like, judgmental about her classmates' lifestyle choices or anythiiiiing.
...
Her eyes flicked down to the phone's screen.
...
And back up to meet Mona's.
Pursed her lips slightly, sighed inwardly.
"What's the set list like?"
none of you can prove im in v8
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
“Fair accusation. Worship of Slaneesh counts as a cult, sure.”
‘Having identified a stressed, emotionally vulnerable target, cults flood that person with affection, flattery, and validation.’
Like fucking hell she wanted to do any of those things to Stella PsyOp Nyquist. But, and maybe this was just Mona having eaten so little that day she was developing acute psychosis, she did genuinely have the sentiment that the stressed, emotionally vulnerable Stella deserved some kind of non-cult sourced reprieve.
Anyone who didn’t see Stella had suffered something, probably something bad, hadn’t suffered trauma in their own short lifespan and then promptly spent the rest of their lives living a yas bitch slay aesthetic facade out of sheer spite. Like, what, you haven’t? Sorryyyy you don’t know what it’s like to be alive (undead ver (from the vault))
Maybe Mona consciously carried that sentiment more than Stella herself did.
Something like that. Big ups to the L. Ron Hubbard of the cupboard.
Mona observed. Petite shifts in Stella geology, like the daily tectonic warblings of the earth never noticed underfoot. Mona responded with a casual smirk weighted towards one corner and down one lip, a pixel perfect hold of her lazy slouch.
“Heeeey, you don’t have to entertain me. It’s like. You don’t lose any social cache for never acknowledging me again.” If anything, Stella probably gained it, net.
My world used to be your world, you know .We probably pretended to like each other three some years ago. The year of ‘22 was a different time, wasn’t it? Almost nostalgic in a fucked up way. Isn’t it funny that I like you now more than I ever liked your forgettably perfect face back then?
“Buuuut, assuming you’re not just humoring me. I know a few of the guys on the lineup.”
She had all their Instas, and flicked through them while barely maintaining visual with the screen. She wasn’t, like, living or dying on Stella’s lab grown reactions, but she recognized she was more interested in them than she would have expected of herself maybe she didn’t know herself that well after all.
DJ Nonagon,
“My main man.” Mona hung out in his studio from time to time. Studio, in this case, meant sadly sterile Ikea magazine spread bedroom like Mona was any better on the featureless bedroom front. “Goa set—” still a thing, apparently— “Matrix OST for the dance floor. Bout midnight, ideal time you might be a bit of the way into your trip of choice. Optional,” Mona tacked on quickly, the punctuation to the punctuation.
Fifteen for the a ketamine shot, forty or so average for the E. The vivid mental image of Stella in I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-BDSM Wachowski aesthetic lingered a second too long than was metatextual-y comfortable for either party involved.
taipan_forever,
“Named after someone from a Survival of the Fittest kidnapping. Dunno about thaaaat one, but, she spins some sick uplifting trance. Spiritual experience I'm flying type music.”
MatchaInTheMorning,
“Little bass house and garage. Technically good but kinda samey. Good for the cooldown after your minds been soaring.”
Mona shrugged. Didn’t bother to hide the memories, the wistful pained smile, the eyes closing longer than average for a single blink.
“They’re the prime time. It’s nobodies before then spinning whatever while you’re chatting over drinks.”
‘Having identified a stressed, emotionally vulnerable target, cults flood that person with affection, flattery, and validation.’
Like fucking hell she wanted to do any of those things to Stella PsyOp Nyquist. But, and maybe this was just Mona having eaten so little that day she was developing acute psychosis, she did genuinely have the sentiment that the stressed, emotionally vulnerable Stella deserved some kind of non-cult sourced reprieve.
Anyone who didn’t see Stella had suffered something, probably something bad, hadn’t suffered trauma in their own short lifespan and then promptly spent the rest of their lives living a yas bitch slay aesthetic facade out of sheer spite. Like, what, you haven’t? Sorryyyy you don’t know what it’s like to be alive (undead ver (from the vault))
Maybe Mona consciously carried that sentiment more than Stella herself did.
Something like that. Big ups to the L. Ron Hubbard of the cupboard.
Mona observed. Petite shifts in Stella geology, like the daily tectonic warblings of the earth never noticed underfoot. Mona responded with a casual smirk weighted towards one corner and down one lip, a pixel perfect hold of her lazy slouch.
“Heeeey, you don’t have to entertain me. It’s like. You don’t lose any social cache for never acknowledging me again.” If anything, Stella probably gained it, net.
My world used to be your world, you know .We probably pretended to like each other three some years ago. The year of ‘22 was a different time, wasn’t it? Almost nostalgic in a fucked up way. Isn’t it funny that I like you now more than I ever liked your forgettably perfect face back then?
“Buuuut, assuming you’re not just humoring me. I know a few of the guys on the lineup.”
She had all their Instas, and flicked through them while barely maintaining visual with the screen. She wasn’t, like, living or dying on Stella’s lab grown reactions, but she recognized she was more interested in them than she would have expected of herself maybe she didn’t know herself that well after all.
DJ Nonagon,
“My main man.” Mona hung out in his studio from time to time. Studio, in this case, meant sadly sterile Ikea magazine spread bedroom like Mona was any better on the featureless bedroom front. “Goa set—” still a thing, apparently— “Matrix OST for the dance floor. Bout midnight, ideal time you might be a bit of the way into your trip of choice. Optional,” Mona tacked on quickly, the punctuation to the punctuation.
Fifteen for the a ketamine shot, forty or so average for the E. The vivid mental image of Stella in I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-BDSM Wachowski aesthetic lingered a second too long than was metatextual-y comfortable for either party involved.
taipan_forever,
“Named after someone from a Survival of the Fittest kidnapping. Dunno about thaaaat one, but, she spins some sick uplifting trance. Spiritual experience I'm flying type music.”
MatchaInTheMorning,
“Little bass house and garage. Technically good but kinda samey. Good for the cooldown after your minds been soaring.”
Mona shrugged. Didn’t bother to hide the memories, the wistful pained smile, the eyes closing longer than average for a single blink.
“They’re the prime time. It’s nobodies before then spinning whatever while you’re chatting over drinks.”
Stella was many things. A hedonist? Not especially, no. Believe it, people slicker than Mona'd tried to test her before. But, little known Stella fact: she dabbled in the consumption of dance music. Of course, wasn't enough of a thing in her eyes to turn it into a personality trait. Kept her listening classy: Gothenburg, Cologne, Berlin, Paris, London, New York, Detroit, Chicago. Not the we-tried-to-buy-Ibiza-at-the-dollar-store vibe Mona seemed entrenched in. Buuuut, mmmm, well, general rule: If you want to observe culture creating itself, seek out the great American opium den.
So.
All she did was lean closer to Mona. Juuuuust by half an inch.
Bit quieter. Still nonchalant.
"Aaaand what's the dress code like? Liiiiike, do they allow face coverings?"
So.
All she did was lean closer to Mona. Juuuuust by half an inch.
Bit quieter. Still nonchalant.
"Aaaand what's the dress code like? Liiiiike, do they allow face coverings?"
none of you can prove im in v8
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The lean mirrored. Her supporting arm angled into her thigh. The black of the joggers and the jacket indistinguishable where they met.
"Mmm." Pitch of her voice had sunk with gravity. Authentic, she supposed. "Anything besides, no tripping hazards, no genitals... Technically allows for fursuits I gueeeess. Not survivable in the ambient heat though."
Stella's concerns, to whatever extent they were genuine, left Mona an impressionit wasn't like Mona didn't fear for her life the moment she took the white powder to her face.
Like any ecosystem that wasn't fully closed there were never guarantees. Stella herself knew that well, didn't she? Mona had heard about the way a Nyquist party was runfascinating that Mona still cared to know what was happening. Almost like she was a hater because she was exiled, not because she was above it all. She entertained the idea of a surveillance camera on her and a paid off backbencher reporting she'd spent a suspicious amount of time touching up her makeup in the bathroom. Smiiiile for the camerait legitimately seemed nice.
"As long as you're not a hazard. No blinding yourself. There's volunteer security, everyone knows them." She knew most of them by namenot like Mona really trusted them. The men because they were men. The women because she wasn't like other girls or something. "Anonymity does help... Frowned on for the men to do it."
"Mmm." Pitch of her voice had sunk with gravity. Authentic, she supposed. "Anything besides, no tripping hazards, no genitals... Technically allows for fursuits I gueeeess. Not survivable in the ambient heat though."
Stella's concerns, to whatever extent they were genuine, left Mona an impressionit wasn't like Mona didn't fear for her life the moment she took the white powder to her face.
Like any ecosystem that wasn't fully closed there were never guarantees. Stella herself knew that well, didn't she? Mona had heard about the way a Nyquist party was runfascinating that Mona still cared to know what was happening. Almost like she was a hater because she was exiled, not because she was above it all. She entertained the idea of a surveillance camera on her and a paid off backbencher reporting she'd spent a suspicious amount of time touching up her makeup in the bathroom. Smiiiile for the camerait legitimately seemed nice.
"As long as you're not a hazard. No blinding yourself. There's volunteer security, everyone knows them." She knew most of them by namenot like Mona really trusted them. The men because they were men. The women because she wasn't like other girls or something. "Anonymity does help... Frowned on for the men to do it."
"...Mhm."
Good luck, Stella nearly said. Killer conversation closer, no other reason.
Wasn't used to feeling pity for people like Mona, maybe. She was bad news on some level, obviously. Didn't spend your nights chemically inducing a feeling resembling joy, gyrating in the dark, blood in your ears, unless you had a reason. Running from something, possibly herself, possibly others, et cetera. But, Mona was an object of contempt in Stella's circle and presumably vice versa; couldn't really debase each other in any way that'd actually matter. Lived on dipoles.
So, you know. She was a nonthreat, time being.
And, just liiiike that, Stella pulled her face away. Turned, stole another fry, chewed, swallowed. Made eye contact with Ingrid, shrugged with the shoulder Mona couldn't see.
And, again, back to Mona, arms crossed.
"...'Kaaay, tell you what. DM me the address, we'll get back to you on it when the time's closer."
Good luck, Stella nearly said. Killer conversation closer, no other reason.
Wasn't used to feeling pity for people like Mona, maybe. She was bad news on some level, obviously. Didn't spend your nights chemically inducing a feeling resembling joy, gyrating in the dark, blood in your ears, unless you had a reason. Running from something, possibly herself, possibly others, et cetera. But, Mona was an object of contempt in Stella's circle and presumably vice versa; couldn't really debase each other in any way that'd actually matter. Lived on dipoles.
So, you know. She was a nonthreat, time being.
And, just liiiike that, Stella pulled her face away. Turned, stole another fry, chewed, swallowed. Made eye contact with Ingrid, shrugged with the shoulder Mona couldn't see.
And, again, back to Mona, arms crossed.
"...'Kaaay, tell you what. DM me the address, we'll get back to you on it when the time's closer."
none of you can prove im in v8
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
Stella looked awaaaaay. And in an instant, Mona’s spine straightened. She allowed herself a briefly terse breath. Prey needed oxygen when it was preparing flight response.
The belatedly noticed dopamine hit, as it was winding down.
Stella sneaking in a chomp also reminded Mona she probably needed to eat at some point that day. Ehhhh. Jimena would probably want to grab food at some pointMona had food riiiight there in her backpack but it was redacted in her mental space for daring to exist with caloric and nutritional value, so on.
Stella was good. Weaponized body language. Stella’s mom had been famously involved in flipping real estate in ‘08, Mona remembered that one from when she’d casually been gathering excuses to hold her peers in contempt. Stella had definitely picked up a few things from her mom. Free real estate, etc.
It had been… Fun. Most engaging thing she’d done the whole school year. More than the nearly drugging herself into an OD, more than the fantasizing about making out with LK, more than the Patreons thanking her for the new basic dress design series,
Mona did kind of know where this all was headed but it was not happening because she had long ago broken the social contract and been kicked out and, well.
Another life, maybeRevelation 20:15.
“We’ll?” Mona glanced past Ingrid and Stella. Yeah, the guys did still exist. Couldn’t right click their faces and block ‘are you sure’ block. “Yep.” She shrugged with her visible shoulders, both of them.
Mona worked her phone magic. This time, eyes on screen, fingers out of focus, rest of the table periphery vision. She did not know what Stella’s Instagram picture looked like.
Didn’t take her long. Accept message request from MoanaMarroquin? One message.
“Fun talk, Stella. Ingrid. See ya soon.”
She stood with a nod and a smile. Both small. No tension. Neutral eyes.
Cleared the bench with a swing of her legs. Turned away. Started walking.
Upcycled jacket with the sakura blossoms pulled a bit tighter. Cursory glance at the nails. Sony headphones strung up around her ears.
She hesitated. Still moving.
Carefully dropped the headphones to around her neck and hit her next track.
Machinery, catharsis, Aaaaand she was never hearing from Stella again of coursetechnology, rag-tag, And she’d be an idiot to expect any different
transcendent, slapstick, Try-hard, high-strung, neurotic, blue-crossed,
(yeah she was an idiot she knew that much she’d gone into the situation expecting that much, mindless all-american bloodsport entertainment soundtracked by Anthony Fantano decent 7s to light 8s and okay shut the fuck up for a second)
golden arches, pearly gates, Supermarket, interstate, picket fence, domestic, citizen's arrest
Mona had been engaged and she couldn’t gaslight herself out of that fact. Like, tl d fucking r, Mona had imagined Stella starring in her own Hallmark tier fanfic, Mona had said stupid shit she’d memoryholed during 3 AM Wikipedia binges, not her best look!
Vestibule, two-story, gas station, phantom pain, art therapist, eggshell white, office park
The conversation could have died by the powers vested into them as two teenage girls from different worlds, good bye, fuck you, [clever insult at the correct cinematic moment]. And it hadn’t, and what was that thing Mona was feeling
Parking garage, small detail, micropolitan, turnpike, private property,
hope? The first and foremost of Pandora’s evils (source?)??
killing point, agenda
Why hold onto hope?
Arms, body, legs, flesh, skin, bone, sinew, good luck
Alternatively, why not want to be the demon to Stella’s angle? Angle in question, for the uninformed yes Mona was the uninformed, etc.
Arms, body, legs, flesh, skin, bone, sinew, good luck
She was out of her depth buuuuut that wasn’t exactly anything new now was it?? This had given her a lot to think about, but the question was, was she going to bother thinking about it?
Arms, body, legs, flesh, skin, bone, sinew,
… Eh. Insert idiom: ignorance is bliss. Knowing God is impossible anyways.
Or perhaps, she still had the chance to be an apostate.
Hebrews 6:4
it is impossible to restore again to repentance those who have once been enlightened
GOOD LUCK!!
[Mona Marroquín, Pregame Thread 1 Concluded]
The belatedly noticed dopamine hit, as it was winding down.
Stella sneaking in a chomp also reminded Mona she probably needed to eat at some point that day. Ehhhh. Jimena would probably want to grab food at some pointMona had food riiiight there in her backpack but it was redacted in her mental space for daring to exist with caloric and nutritional value, so on.
Stella was good. Weaponized body language. Stella’s mom had been famously involved in flipping real estate in ‘08, Mona remembered that one from when she’d casually been gathering excuses to hold her peers in contempt. Stella had definitely picked up a few things from her mom. Free real estate, etc.
It had been… Fun. Most engaging thing she’d done the whole school year. More than the nearly drugging herself into an OD, more than the fantasizing about making out with LK, more than the Patreons thanking her for the new basic dress design series,
Mona did kind of know where this all was headed but it was not happening because she had long ago broken the social contract and been kicked out and, well.
Another life, maybeRevelation 20:15.
“We’ll?” Mona glanced past Ingrid and Stella. Yeah, the guys did still exist. Couldn’t right click their faces and block ‘are you sure’ block. “Yep.” She shrugged with her visible shoulders, both of them.
Mona worked her phone magic. This time, eyes on screen, fingers out of focus, rest of the table periphery vision. She did not know what Stella’s Instagram picture looked like.
Didn’t take her long. Accept message request from MoanaMarroquin? One message.
“Fun talk, Stella. Ingrid. See ya soon.”
She stood with a nod and a smile. Both small. No tension. Neutral eyes.
Cleared the bench with a swing of her legs. Turned away. Started walking.
Upcycled jacket with the sakura blossoms pulled a bit tighter. Cursory glance at the nails. Sony headphones strung up around her ears.
She hesitated. Still moving.
Carefully dropped the headphones to around her neck and hit her next track.
Machinery, catharsis, Aaaaand she was never hearing from Stella again of coursetechnology, rag-tag, And she’d be an idiot to expect any different
transcendent, slapstick, Try-hard, high-strung, neurotic, blue-crossed,
(yeah she was an idiot she knew that much she’d gone into the situation expecting that much, mindless all-american bloodsport entertainment soundtracked by Anthony Fantano decent 7s to light 8s and okay shut the fuck up for a second)
golden arches, pearly gates, Supermarket, interstate, picket fence, domestic, citizen's arrest
Mona had been engaged and she couldn’t gaslight herself out of that fact. Like, tl d fucking r, Mona had imagined Stella starring in her own Hallmark tier fanfic, Mona had said stupid shit she’d memoryholed during 3 AM Wikipedia binges, not her best look!
Vestibule, two-story, gas station, phantom pain, art therapist, eggshell white, office park
The conversation could have died by the powers vested into them as two teenage girls from different worlds, good bye, fuck you, [clever insult at the correct cinematic moment]. And it hadn’t, and what was that thing Mona was feeling
Parking garage, small detail, micropolitan, turnpike, private property,
hope? The first and foremost of Pandora’s evils (source?)??
killing point, agenda
Why hold onto hope?
Arms, body, legs, flesh, skin, bone, sinew, good luck
Alternatively, why not want to be the demon to Stella’s angle? Angle in question, for the uninformed yes Mona was the uninformed, etc.
Arms, body, legs, flesh, skin, bone, sinew, good luck
She was out of her depth buuuuut that wasn’t exactly anything new now was it?? This had given her a lot to think about, but the question was, was she going to bother thinking about it?
Arms, body, legs, flesh, skin, bone, sinew,
… Eh. Insert idiom: ignorance is bliss. Knowing God is impossible anyways.
Or perhaps, she still had the chance to be an apostate.
Hebrews 6:4
it is impossible to restore again to repentance those who have once been enlightened
GOOD LUCK!!
[Mona Marroquín, Pregame Thread 1 Concluded]
But, seeeeriously though. Distracting yourself from something doesn't make it go away.
((God knows your crowd's gonna need it.))
none of you can prove im in v8
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.