"I kinda like it? Like, uh, it's not. What I expected, y'know. But it's nice. Reminds me of home."
When Dante smiled again it was the sad kinda smile. Not that he'd thought he was ever gonna see home again, not since he'd woken up on the first day and realized where he was and what was happening. Even more so after he'd gotten shot. But now it was like. That tiny, impossibly small chance of him getting out of there somehow, some kinda miracle rescue, that was gone now. Hope was important even when it was probably dumb, Dante'd always thought. It was better to believe things might get better. Things could always get better. And even if they didn't the whole act of hoping only ever helped.
Kinda wasn't anything to hope for now, though? For himself, anyways. He hoped Aurelien was okay. He hoped he wasn't here somewhere, out of sight, no matter how desperately he missed him. He could hold onto that much, anyway. It was still something. Dante was real good at always finding something.
"Oh, that's, uh—"
There was someone else here now, had he just kinda... popped out of the ball pit? Was the ball pit like, spawning people? That was kinda fucked up, huh. But also kinda funny. And it was someone he knew, so that was, he was gonna say rad but it definitely wasn't that? Andy was a cool guy. They weren't super close or anything, but they hung out in the same general circles. He was funny, and was at every party he'd ever been to, and also he was dead now, so that was still weird.
Dante waved. Violet was talking to him now so it would be rude to interrupt probably. Did rules of like etiquette apply to dead people? Probably. He still didn't feel very dead.
"That's Andy. And that's Violet, one of them, I know they're two but I dunno which is which." He shrugged a little. "I kinda know everyone a little bit, I think? Or I, uh, did? I guess I still do, like I'm still talking about it so it's still true, right?"
He wished she'd stop climbing on the mesh because it was making him nervous even though he wasn't sure they actually could get hurt, anymore. Also because he really wanted to give her a hug and couldn't just say that so it would be pretty convenient if she just figured it out somehow.
"I..."
He frowned.
He was wrong. He remembered almost everything. He did remember, before he woke up, Camila in the house next store. Him drifting off with his head in Blaise's lap. He remembered an explosion, and pain. And then he was in a ball pit.
"This is, uh. It's okay if you don't have an answer, no worries, but... do you know what happened? To, uh, me. I mean. I don't really..."
He shrugged again, like it didn't matter, cause it really didn't. But it was gonna keep bugging him anyway.
Happy Time You Just Died Pizza Parlor
The V7 Afterlife Thread - under Cicada management (dead V7 kids go here! no enforced posting order)
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
The names didn't offer much in the way of meaning. Nor the actions of the named. They were there, warm bodies sinking into an ocean of color.
"You were the flirt. I figured you knew a lot of people." At that Camila returned to earth, with something approximating grace. The netting was eager to weave tangled webs at her again, but a near stumble was merely that. An awkward stuttering of her body, then her two feet kissed the floor with no vanishing amount of force. Earnest violence, like lovers reunited after war. It felt very real.
It was real, as far as she was concerned. She was living it. However the word 'living' worked, on God's side of death.
"When I got there Blaise already shot you and was walking away." Camila wore an unreadable face, the gap between her teeth vanishing behind a firm lip. "They weren't very apologetic."
"You were the flirt. I figured you knew a lot of people." At that Camila returned to earth, with something approximating grace. The netting was eager to weave tangled webs at her again, but a near stumble was merely that. An awkward stuttering of her body, then her two feet kissed the floor with no vanishing amount of force. Earnest violence, like lovers reunited after war. It felt very real.
It was real, as far as she was concerned. She was living it. However the word 'living' worked, on God's side of death.
"When I got there Blaise already shot you and was walking away." Camila wore an unreadable face, the gap between her teeth vanishing behind a firm lip. "They weren't very apologetic."
that girl is going, going, gone (v9)
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"Oh."
He'd thought it was Blaise. Knew it was Blaise, he guessed, cause no one else had been there, he imagined there would have been noise or yelling if someone else had appeared in those last moments, but he didn't understand how cause like, the whiskey had been their weapon, right? They didn't have a gun. But they must have found one somewhere. Or else he'd still be alive, maybe. Or maybe not. Stuff with his leg had been getting pretty bad, he'd felt real weak and fuzzy even before he'd started drinking. Maybe he would have just dozed off and wound up here anyways. Probably it was all over after he'd startled Violet, even—
oh yeah, the other Violet was the one who shot him, huh, he probably should have remembered that
—even though Blaise and Camila and Tyrell did so much to help save him. He wondered if Blaise knew that. If maybe they thought it would be quicker, less painful, if they killed him themself? It seemed like the thing that made the most sense. They'd always been such a good friend. He couldn't imagine any other reason they'd want to do what they did.
Dante zoned out for a little, lost in thought, which was pretty out of character for him, but he shook it off. He pushed himself out of the ball pit, lifting himself up by the netting Camila had been climbing moments before. He dangled like a spider monkey from his arms, hey, remember how he used to be able to run and jump and climb and stuff? That was all pretty cool. He felt pretty good. The last echoes of that headache he had when he woke up were already fading.
"Hey, uh—"
They were real close together now, actually, even with the netting between them.
"—I'm sorry. About leaving you like that."
He'd thought it was Blaise. Knew it was Blaise, he guessed, cause no one else had been there, he imagined there would have been noise or yelling if someone else had appeared in those last moments, but he didn't understand how cause like, the whiskey had been their weapon, right? They didn't have a gun. But they must have found one somewhere. Or else he'd still be alive, maybe. Or maybe not. Stuff with his leg had been getting pretty bad, he'd felt real weak and fuzzy even before he'd started drinking. Maybe he would have just dozed off and wound up here anyways. Probably it was all over after he'd startled Violet, even—
oh yeah, the other Violet was the one who shot him, huh, he probably should have remembered that
—even though Blaise and Camila and Tyrell did so much to help save him. He wondered if Blaise knew that. If maybe they thought it would be quicker, less painful, if they killed him themself? It seemed like the thing that made the most sense. They'd always been such a good friend. He couldn't imagine any other reason they'd want to do what they did.
Dante zoned out for a little, lost in thought, which was pretty out of character for him, but he shook it off. He pushed himself out of the ball pit, lifting himself up by the netting Camila had been climbing moments before. He dangled like a spider monkey from his arms, hey, remember how he used to be able to run and jump and climb and stuff? That was all pretty cool. He felt pretty good. The last echoes of that headache he had when he woke up were already fading.
"Hey, uh—"
They were real close together now, actually, even with the netting between them.
"—I'm sorry. About leaving you like that."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Camila considered for a moment, then closed a bit more of that little bit of distance between them. She gently grasped at the same rung of buoyant cord that Dante had attached himself to, putting her hand right close to his chest. He seemed warm. Maybe was, in some manner beyond their irrelevant biology.
"Nothing to be sorry for."
She cocked an eyebrow, almost arrogantly. Possible to construe that way, from any perspective that wasn't her own. As far as she was concerned it was just a gesture, whatever such a thing meant in the hereafter.
"I let you die. You left me. We could say we're even."
She braced her left leg back onto the rigging, hoisting herself up until their eyes were level. She smiled at him, but not with her inert lips.
"But that's stupid. Something someone more pretentious would say." A bullet hole through her abdomen, that no longer existed. "What really matters is that we're here now. The past is the past."
"Nothing to be sorry for."
She cocked an eyebrow, almost arrogantly. Possible to construe that way, from any perspective that wasn't her own. As far as she was concerned it was just a gesture, whatever such a thing meant in the hereafter.
"I let you die. You left me. We could say we're even."
She braced her left leg back onto the rigging, hoisting herself up until their eyes were level. She smiled at him, but not with her inert lips.
"But that's stupid. Something someone more pretentious would say." A bullet hole through her abdomen, that no longer existed. "What really matters is that we're here now. The past is the past."
that girl is going, going, gone (v9)
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Okay. Okay, okay, okay.
So Andy hadn't been to a Chuck-E-Cheese since probably, like, fifth grade? Whenever it was, it was around the time that he hit his first growth spurt and then all of a sudden he was the asshole taking up the entire jungle gym and he was forcibly reassigned to skee-ball purgatory. And wow, lo and behold, now he was back in skee-ball purgatory, only maybe more literally?
Violet (The goth one, not the... other goth one? The shorter one that he kinda knew more and liked better, honestly.) just kind of appeared a few feet away, and there was Dante over there and some chick climbing the netting like Andy had always been told not to do. His stomach did a little flip, and he didn't want to spend very much time dwelling on why that was.
He blinked. Worked fine.
"Yeah, uh..." Violet was offering him a hand up. Given the size and strength difference between them, Andy kinda figured that it was more likely that he pulled her in with him than her pulling him out, but hey, she was offering. Maybe she was secretly shredded, he wouldn't know.
"Gimme a sec." Andy turned, moving his legs to try to find purchase in the sea of plastic balls. His feet touched something that felt like floor, and hey, that didn't make any fucking sense, but okay. At least he could just wade over instead of having to freestyle swim his way through. He shuffled a few steps closer and reached out to grab Violet's hand.
"We doing a count of three, or what?"
So Andy hadn't been to a Chuck-E-Cheese since probably, like, fifth grade? Whenever it was, it was around the time that he hit his first growth spurt and then all of a sudden he was the asshole taking up the entire jungle gym and he was forcibly reassigned to skee-ball purgatory. And wow, lo and behold, now he was back in skee-ball purgatory, only maybe more literally?
Violet (The goth one, not the... other goth one? The shorter one that he kinda knew more and liked better, honestly.) just kind of appeared a few feet away, and there was Dante over there and some chick climbing the netting like Andy had always been told not to do. His stomach did a little flip, and he didn't want to spend very much time dwelling on why that was.
He blinked. Worked fine.
"Yeah, uh..." Violet was offering him a hand up. Given the size and strength difference between them, Andy kinda figured that it was more likely that he pulled her in with him than her pulling him out, but hey, she was offering. Maybe she was secretly shredded, he wouldn't know.
"Gimme a sec." Andy turned, moving his legs to try to find purchase in the sea of plastic balls. His feet touched something that felt like floor, and hey, that didn't make any fucking sense, but okay. At least he could just wade over instead of having to freestyle swim his way through. He shuffled a few steps closer and reached out to grab Violet's hand.
"We doing a count of three, or what?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
-
Primrosette
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Violet felt herself getting distracted by a thought before she could even think of what to say to Andy. I'm not going to see my family for a long time. This thought almost deflated her mood into a sadder one and she knew that she couldn't mope about it right now. She would have all the time in the world to be down about things after she had helped Andy and she rather not think of Princess. She felt relieved that her girlfriend was not here with her and she hoped and prayed that Princess will survive for as long as she could.
"Sure." She said with a nod of her head and she was trying to keep the warmest smile present on her face.
She felt her hand grasp around Andy's own and she noticed how much tinier her hands were compared to his bigger hands. She should not be surprised by this but she had been the type of girl that had not held hands with boys that much. The only one that had held her hands a lot had been her father and her eyes were getting a little glassy as she thought about how he was doing. Her father would have cracked jokes to try to deal with her being gone and her mother.... She couldn't think about how she had reacted to everything that happened.
"Ready? One... Two... Three...!"
Violet pulled Andy up with all her might and the heaviness of the boy was overwhelming. Violet didn't regret helping him out.
"Sure." She said with a nod of her head and she was trying to keep the warmest smile present on her face.
She felt her hand grasp around Andy's own and she noticed how much tinier her hands were compared to his bigger hands. She should not be surprised by this but she had been the type of girl that had not held hands with boys that much. The only one that had held her hands a lot had been her father and her eyes were getting a little glassy as she thought about how he was doing. Her father would have cracked jokes to try to deal with her being gone and her mother.... She couldn't think about how she had reacted to everything that happened.
"Ready? One... Two... Three...!"
Violet pulled Andy up with all her might and the heaviness of the boy was overwhelming. Violet didn't regret helping him out.
"The past is the... yeah, I guess."
Dante was usually real good at not thinking too hard so he was gonna take the suggestion to stop as gospel, even though thinking the word gospel put him back on the whole crisis of faith train of thought he'd decided not to ride on earlier. Cause, for real, he was kinda thinking maybe this whole thing was a weird-ass hallucination and like Actual Death was still coming, but it had been a few minutes now, and everything had felt real solid and steady. So this had to be... it. Right?
He was breathing. It was weird when he thought about it. Spirits didn't breathe. He thought about feeling for his heartbeat but he was afraid of what he'd find.
He stepped off the netting onto solid ground, testing his legs. Totally fixed. No blood or anything, when he looked down. No stains. The same shirt and shorts and sneakers he'd been wearing minus a whole lot of sweat.
It was all good stuff. He shouldn't be stressing so much about good stuff.
"Weird place to be for like, eternity. Gonna, y'know, run out of stuff to do, probably." He shrugged. "I mean, I had that conversation with Father Esposito once? Like, the kingdom of Heaven is great and all but, like, you'd get bored probably eventually, y'know? Didn't really get an answer."
The split in the netting was three steps away. He took those and officially got out of the ball pit. His first step was wobbly, like a toddler learning to walk, but he remembered how his legs worked pretty fast.
"S'there food? I'm starving."
It was kinda funny cause he literally couldn't starve and now that he wasn't thinking about it he wasn't actually hungry. But the taste of food sounded nice.
"Oh—"
He'd started walking, but he spun back to look at Camila again. He frowned.
"You—you don't blame yourself, for like. Stuff, right? It wasn't—y'know. You didn't do anything wrong."
Dante was usually real good at not thinking too hard so he was gonna take the suggestion to stop as gospel, even though thinking the word gospel put him back on the whole crisis of faith train of thought he'd decided not to ride on earlier. Cause, for real, he was kinda thinking maybe this whole thing was a weird-ass hallucination and like Actual Death was still coming, but it had been a few minutes now, and everything had felt real solid and steady. So this had to be... it. Right?
He was breathing. It was weird when he thought about it. Spirits didn't breathe. He thought about feeling for his heartbeat but he was afraid of what he'd find.
He stepped off the netting onto solid ground, testing his legs. Totally fixed. No blood or anything, when he looked down. No stains. The same shirt and shorts and sneakers he'd been wearing minus a whole lot of sweat.
It was all good stuff. He shouldn't be stressing so much about good stuff.
"Weird place to be for like, eternity. Gonna, y'know, run out of stuff to do, probably." He shrugged. "I mean, I had that conversation with Father Esposito once? Like, the kingdom of Heaven is great and all but, like, you'd get bored probably eventually, y'know? Didn't really get an answer."
The split in the netting was three steps away. He took those and officially got out of the ball pit. His first step was wobbly, like a toddler learning to walk, but he remembered how his legs worked pretty fast.
"S'there food? I'm starving."
It was kinda funny cause he literally couldn't starve and now that he wasn't thinking about it he wasn't actually hungry. But the taste of food sounded nice.
"Oh—"
He'd started walking, but he spun back to look at Camila again. He frowned.
"You—you don't blame yourself, for like. Stuff, right? It wasn't—y'know. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Camila stood on the solid bit of space beside Dante in a graceful downward swoop. Something about the motion reminded her of the actionable life she'd once lived. Here she was, drawing a simple line between the time she'd been alive in one sense and the time she was now dead in some other sense, and she was satisfied enough with the distinction in all it's austerity. Her body was still smiling warm as the blood that had once traversed her veins.
"I thought about that too." It was common enough, that their youthful minds would have questioned the fine print in all it's vaguery. No need to make anything of the converging lines of their inquiry. Maybe if she'd had a heart still relevantly working she would have shamelessly felt a girlish flush. 'He thinks like I do'.
He likely didn't, but that was a duality Camila could work with.
"That's why I was never too particular about it, when the only people telling you about the afterlife are as mortal as you are." A firm nod, assertive and familiar body language. "And," she smirked, a pleasantly and unnecessarily cute bend to her upper lip that she only noticed in the aftermath of her heart's easygoing pitter-patter. "I'm surprised Father Esposito is still working! Thought he'd have retired at some point."
Camila, wordlessly, recalled with the wayward drift of her feet where the buffet-seeming area she'd passed had been. The food had smelled generic to nondescription. Present without being quite there. She set a slow pace, because she particularly wanted to stay by his side and that he stay by her side. He stopped, she stopped as sudden, a small shrug to the slender slope of her shoulders as she stared him dead on with no faltering to the forward arrow her body seemed to want to draw in space and time.
"No need to blame. Wrong word." She considered, for a moment, what had happened. Sans the word 'blame'.
"I was too slow to get to you. I was too stupid to trust that strange apparition you call a friend. Those are facts, which I acknowledge."
"I thought about that too." It was common enough, that their youthful minds would have questioned the fine print in all it's vaguery. No need to make anything of the converging lines of their inquiry. Maybe if she'd had a heart still relevantly working she would have shamelessly felt a girlish flush. 'He thinks like I do'.
He likely didn't, but that was a duality Camila could work with.
"That's why I was never too particular about it, when the only people telling you about the afterlife are as mortal as you are." A firm nod, assertive and familiar body language. "And," she smirked, a pleasantly and unnecessarily cute bend to her upper lip that she only noticed in the aftermath of her heart's easygoing pitter-patter. "I'm surprised Father Esposito is still working! Thought he'd have retired at some point."
Camila, wordlessly, recalled with the wayward drift of her feet where the buffet-seeming area she'd passed had been. The food had smelled generic to nondescription. Present without being quite there. She set a slow pace, because she particularly wanted to stay by his side and that he stay by her side. He stopped, she stopped as sudden, a small shrug to the slender slope of her shoulders as she stared him dead on with no faltering to the forward arrow her body seemed to want to draw in space and time.
"No need to blame. Wrong word." She considered, for a moment, what had happened. Sans the word 'blame'.
"I was too slow to get to you. I was too stupid to trust that strange apparition you call a friend. Those are facts, which I acknowledge."
that girl is going, going, gone (v9)
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Marco blinked. He went from flying through a window to landing in a ball pit. What in the hell? Marco sat up and looked down. He was fully clothed again and NOT covered in the blood of his enemies. Was that just a dream? Did he really pass out in the Dave and Busters ball pit in a nachos, queso, sweet tea, and wings induced food coma?
Damn, he really had issues. Adonis, Jonas, and Abel would have even bigger issues though. Those dicks just left him here!
He dragged himself out of the ballpit and looked around. It became quickly apparent that this wasn’t DnB’s. As he wandered around, his eye glanced up to the tv, and Marco felt a shiver down his spine once his brain registered what he was looking at.
He saw himself, splayed out and shirtless, lying in the dirt, a basketball sized hole blown through his chest. Damn, this was real... HELL YEAH! Damn, the whole world was gonna know he died like a motherfuckin’ BOSS!
Marco’s eye- no eyes, he had both now, trailed up to his face. Eyes crossed and rolled up, lids half closed. His corpse had a smirk, biting his lower lip- Aw shit, that’s kinda embarrassing. Marcus Volker died with an Ahaego. Sonofabitch, he hoped that didn’t become a reaction image... Whatever, he died cool, stupid face or not.
So he was dead. Aight, bet, but this wasn’t hell. He wasn’t standing on some chaos pyramid kicking demons left and right like the ending of The One, and this wasn’t Valhalla either. He wasn’t spending all day fighting history’s greatest warriors, like Spartans, Samurais, Navy SEALS, Glaswegian Football Hooligans, and Saracens, nor was he spending all night getting dicked down by QT. 10/10 catboys.
Quite frankly, this bootleg ChuckECheese was rather underwhelming. All that cool shit he did, and THIS was his afterlife? It was insulting quite frankly. This was-
Oh.
Marco got it.
This WAS Hell! Haha, what a silly mistake. This was his existence now... Oh man.
Marco inhaled. Then exhaled.
“Man, this some bullshit!”
Damn, he really had issues. Adonis, Jonas, and Abel would have even bigger issues though. Those dicks just left him here!
He dragged himself out of the ballpit and looked around. It became quickly apparent that this wasn’t DnB’s. As he wandered around, his eye glanced up to the tv, and Marco felt a shiver down his spine once his brain registered what he was looking at.
He saw himself, splayed out and shirtless, lying in the dirt, a basketball sized hole blown through his chest. Damn, this was real... HELL YEAH! Damn, the whole world was gonna know he died like a motherfuckin’ BOSS!
Marco’s eye- no eyes, he had both now, trailed up to his face. Eyes crossed and rolled up, lids half closed. His corpse had a smirk, biting his lower lip- Aw shit, that’s kinda embarrassing. Marcus Volker died with an Ahaego. Sonofabitch, he hoped that didn’t become a reaction image... Whatever, he died cool, stupid face or not.
So he was dead. Aight, bet, but this wasn’t hell. He wasn’t standing on some chaos pyramid kicking demons left and right like the ending of The One, and this wasn’t Valhalla either. He wasn’t spending all day fighting history’s greatest warriors, like Spartans, Samurais, Navy SEALS, Glaswegian Football Hooligans, and Saracens, nor was he spending all night getting dicked down by QT. 10/10 catboys.
Quite frankly, this bootleg ChuckECheese was rather underwhelming. All that cool shit he did, and THIS was his afterlife? It was insulting quite frankly. This was-
Oh.
Marco got it.
This WAS Hell! Haha, what a silly mistake. This was his existence now... Oh man.
Marco inhaled. Then exhaled.
“Man, this some bullshit!”
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Catche Jagger
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Colin had absolutely no idea what the fuck was happening. Last thing he knew, he was on the beach, fighting off a pair of fucking assholes and doing everyone on that island a damn service, and the next thing he knew, he was in some family fun restaurant place.
Was reality literally tearing itself to shreds all round him, the laws that governed space and time no longer relevant? To Colin, it seemed quite fucking possible. After all, his ear had somehow returned to the side of his head with nary a bit of damage.
Lacking much to go on, Colin had lodged himself in a corner, trying to piece together what was going on and whether or not he had undergone some kind of psychotic fucking break.
He couldn’t really come up with any kind of firm idea for what had happened, though, until his eyes fell upon one Marco fucking Volker. That’s when it all came back.
He felt a burning sensation at his neck and could almost hear the sound of the chainsaw, so fucking close as it rent Colin’s head from his shoulders.
Colin McCabe was dead, and he was now sharing a room with his killer.
“You bitch!” Colin shouted, leaping to his feet, hands formed into fists.
“YOU LITTLE FUCKING BITCH!!!” He rushed headlong at psychofuck without a second thought. He was fury and righteous vengeance.
Was reality literally tearing itself to shreds all round him, the laws that governed space and time no longer relevant? To Colin, it seemed quite fucking possible. After all, his ear had somehow returned to the side of his head with nary a bit of damage.
Lacking much to go on, Colin had lodged himself in a corner, trying to piece together what was going on and whether or not he had undergone some kind of psychotic fucking break.
He couldn’t really come up with any kind of firm idea for what had happened, though, until his eyes fell upon one Marco fucking Volker. That’s when it all came back.
He felt a burning sensation at his neck and could almost hear the sound of the chainsaw, so fucking close as it rent Colin’s head from his shoulders.
Colin McCabe was dead, and he was now sharing a room with his killer.
“You bitch!” Colin shouted, leaping to his feet, hands formed into fists.
“YOU LITTLE FUCKING BITCH!!!” He rushed headlong at psychofuck without a second thought. He was fury and righteous vengeance.
“Ah shi-“ Marco was cut off as an old friend returned. Oh hai, Colin. Least Marco didn’t have to spend an eternity alone. Colin tackled Marco to the ground, and once again shit be happening. He sighed, content that things were back as they should be, as fist after fist smashed him in the face. He could get used to an eternity of this, as he brought his legs up between him and Colin, kicking him off of him as he scrambled back to his feet.
He pulled himself up onto an Area 51 cabinet, wiping the very fresh blood off from under his nose, licking it off his thumb...
Somewhere else in the arcade, a derp in purple sat at a fast n furious machine, lost in thought, the machinations of his mind an enigma.
To Emil, this wasn’t too bad, it reminded him of all those cool places on the Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge strips. It was a bit lonely though. He wouldn’t have minded doing a livestream. ‘Ay, itcha boi... Thuuuuumppaaaachaaaaaain-snatch-er, two thousand, poppin in from the afterlife following an unexpected hiatus involving a carrot and his fucking sledgehammer!’ Course he couldn’t do that, Hell ain’t got no WiFi, it’s Hell. That’s like asking for a steak at a vegan restaurant, or like a soda with no carbonation. It just don’t happen.
Man fuck Lorenzo though, all that shit over his tracker. Fool don’t even know how to use it. Emil didn’t even know how neither, but he didn’t kill for it too. Fuckin John Leguizamo lookin ass leek head ass grass pubes havin’ ass lucky charms dick ass green eggs and hair havin ass smelling like hair dye desperation and spraypaint ass shovelbutt shovel stealin ass muderin my ass havin ass feelin sorry for himself bein ass pee drinkin R. Kelly tape starrin’ ass. Emil didn’t like him. That shit hurt. Motherfucker.
He hoped that Emmett wasn’t all fucked up from seeing that. Emil didn’t know how bad he got it, but he saw from the lil TVs that there wasn’t much left of him. He hoped his parents were okay, his fans too. He wished he could talk to them again. Shit was lonely here.
He pulled himself up onto an Area 51 cabinet, wiping the very fresh blood off from under his nose, licking it off his thumb...
Somewhere else in the arcade, a derp in purple sat at a fast n furious machine, lost in thought, the machinations of his mind an enigma.
To Emil, this wasn’t too bad, it reminded him of all those cool places on the Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge strips. It was a bit lonely though. He wouldn’t have minded doing a livestream. ‘Ay, itcha boi... Thuuuuumppaaaachaaaaaain-snatch-er, two thousand, poppin in from the afterlife following an unexpected hiatus involving a carrot and his fucking sledgehammer!’ Course he couldn’t do that, Hell ain’t got no WiFi, it’s Hell. That’s like asking for a steak at a vegan restaurant, or like a soda with no carbonation. It just don’t happen.
Man fuck Lorenzo though, all that shit over his tracker. Fool don’t even know how to use it. Emil didn’t even know how neither, but he didn’t kill for it too. Fuckin John Leguizamo lookin ass leek head ass grass pubes havin’ ass lucky charms dick ass green eggs and hair havin ass smelling like hair dye desperation and spraypaint ass shovelbutt shovel stealin ass muderin my ass havin ass feelin sorry for himself bein ass pee drinkin R. Kelly tape starrin’ ass. Emil didn’t like him. That shit hurt. Motherfucker.
He hoped that Emmett wasn’t all fucked up from seeing that. Emil didn’t know how bad he got it, but he saw from the lil TVs that there wasn’t much left of him. He hoped his parents were okay, his fans too. He wished he could talk to them again. Shit was lonely here.
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 1086
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: the shadow realm
First of all, Meilin wasn't currently bleeding out of several stab wounds inflicted by her own knife. Second of all, she was lying up staring at the ceiling in the corner of a ball pit.
It was an improvement, she supposed.
Slowly, she raised herself up. Did the balls really reach up to her waist? No wait, her knees. Still, impressive. Now where was she? It couldn't have been more than a few minutes ago when the bullets and blood flew across her vision on a tropical island in the middle of nowhere in the seventh version of Survival of the Fittest. Bleeding out. After getting stabbed by the resident serial killer.
So! Meilin was probably dead.
Well, she'd just have to un-live with that, wouldn't she?
The first thing she properly head was some guy yelling. She glanced over- oh, it was post-apocalypse LARP kid. You know what? He was absolutely right, this was bullshit! Yeah, this was better than the island, but she said she'd be there for-
Ace.
Oh, dear god.
"You're right, this is bullshi-"
And then some dude came flying at the other guy, and Meilin could only watch it the way one couldn't take their eyes off a trainwreck.
"Geez that was quick," she muttered. Never change, GHHS.
It was an improvement, she supposed.
Slowly, she raised herself up. Did the balls really reach up to her waist? No wait, her knees. Still, impressive. Now where was she? It couldn't have been more than a few minutes ago when the bullets and blood flew across her vision on a tropical island in the middle of nowhere in the seventh version of Survival of the Fittest. Bleeding out. After getting stabbed by the resident serial killer.
So! Meilin was probably dead.
Well, she'd just have to un-live with that, wouldn't she?
The first thing she properly head was some guy yelling. She glanced over- oh, it was post-apocalypse LARP kid. You know what? He was absolutely right, this was bullshit! Yeah, this was better than the island, but she said she'd be there for-
Ace.
Oh, dear god.
"You're right, this is bullshi-"
And then some dude came flying at the other guy, and Meilin could only watch it the way one couldn't take their eyes off a trainwreck.
"Geez that was quick," she muttered. Never change, GHHS.
He'd never believed in an afterlife. It all sounded like something people made up to avoid thinking about the terrifying truth. He thought there would be nothing, just the void for all eternity. a miserable end to a miserable life.
But he was wrong about that, like he'd been wrong about so much. He could still think, walk, speak. He'd been given another chance. He'd seen the consequences of his past mistakes, and he could move forward.
This time, Ronald Kiser was going to be the fucking man.
(Ron Kiser - Restart)
"Really, you guys?" Ron chuckled as he walked into the arcade. "You didn't get enough action from Survival of the Fittest?"
Colin and Marco had always been a couple of strange guys. Strange, and easily angered. Back in school, he would've kept his head down around them. He certainly wouldn't have interfered in any fights. But now? Reborn Ron was no coward. He was the guy who almost killed Wyatt Carter (if only that bitch hadn't shown up). He bowed and groveled to no man.
"So stupid. You're both dead. What're you gonna do, double kill each other?"
Ron ran his hand through his hair. He turned to the side, where a girl was watching the fight, wide eyed. He scanned her; her name was Meilin, he thought. He seen her around at some parties. Not bad, not bad...
"How ya holding up?" he asked, shuffling closer "Name's Ron, by the way."
He stood straight, looked her in the eye, gave her a big smile. Oh yeah, this time he was gonna do it right.
But he was wrong about that, like he'd been wrong about so much. He could still think, walk, speak. He'd been given another chance. He'd seen the consequences of his past mistakes, and he could move forward.
This time, Ronald Kiser was going to be the fucking man.
(Ron Kiser - Restart)
"Really, you guys?" Ron chuckled as he walked into the arcade. "You didn't get enough action from Survival of the Fittest?"
Colin and Marco had always been a couple of strange guys. Strange, and easily angered. Back in school, he would've kept his head down around them. He certainly wouldn't have interfered in any fights. But now? Reborn Ron was no coward. He was the guy who almost killed Wyatt Carter (if only that bitch hadn't shown up). He bowed and groveled to no man.
"So stupid. You're both dead. What're you gonna do, double kill each other?"
Ron ran his hand through his hair. He turned to the side, where a girl was watching the fight, wide eyed. He scanned her; her name was Meilin, he thought. He seen her around at some parties. Not bad, not bad...
"How ya holding up?" he asked, shuffling closer "Name's Ron, by the way."
He stood straight, looked her in the eye, gave her a big smile. Oh yeah, this time he was gonna do it right.
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 1086
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: the shadow realm
Meilin blinked, then turned to the guy addressing her. As it turns out, death really scrambles your memory, so she didn't know what his name was, or if she'd ever seen him before. However, her ghost-brain or whatever the hell was doing the thinkmeats stuff in the afterlife worked just well enough to know that he was obviously into her, you could see it.
Now, just because Ace decided to be unfaithful while she was still alive, didn't mean she had to be unfaithful in death. And that was accounting for the possibility he'd get out of the island alive- she was counting on him to do it, for god's sake, that's what their whole crusade was about! And she was dead, so she had forever to wait.
Well, forever was a long time, and she figured he might forgive a couple of dalliances if he lived to a ripe old age, but with this guy? She really wasn't in the mood.
Anyway, she put on her biggest smile, and raised a finger.
"Before you go any further!" she announced. "I have a boyfriend! He's still on the island, but he's my boyfriend."
Now, just because Ace decided to be unfaithful while she was still alive, didn't mean she had to be unfaithful in death. And that was accounting for the possibility he'd get out of the island alive- she was counting on him to do it, for god's sake, that's what their whole crusade was about! And she was dead, so she had forever to wait.
Well, forever was a long time, and she figured he might forgive a couple of dalliances if he lived to a ripe old age, but with this guy? She really wasn't in the mood.
Anyway, she put on her biggest smile, and raised a finger.
"Before you go any further!" she announced. "I have a boyfriend! He's still on the island, but he's my boyfriend."
...Dead?
Abel's eyes narrowed as Bert spoke. He scoffed as soon as she finished, looking up at Blake before looking back down and dead in Bert's eyes.
"Dead? How'dya mean? We aren't dead. We can't be."
He rattled her shoulder, a little more force than playfully. "See? How can I touch ya if you're dead? You're silly. You shouldn't joke like that."
A bunch of shouting came from nowhere, breaking Abel from his gaze to figure out where the hell that was coming from. Sounded like the ball pit where he woke up at, but with how much of a fever dream this all was he honestly couldn't say.
He let Bert go, gave her a few taps on the shoulder, and broke eye contact with her and avoided eye contact with Blake as he returned to the basketball game.
"I'm not dead," he scoffed to no one in particular.
Abel's eyes narrowed as Bert spoke. He scoffed as soon as she finished, looking up at Blake before looking back down and dead in Bert's eyes.
"Dead? How'dya mean? We aren't dead. We can't be."
He rattled her shoulder, a little more force than playfully. "See? How can I touch ya if you're dead? You're silly. You shouldn't joke like that."
A bunch of shouting came from nowhere, breaking Abel from his gaze to figure out where the hell that was coming from. Sounded like the ball pit where he woke up at, but with how much of a fever dream this all was he honestly couldn't say.
He let Bert go, gave her a few taps on the shoulder, and broke eye contact with her and avoided eye contact with Blake as he returned to the basketball game.
"I'm not dead," he scoffed to no one in particular.