I know I didn't fully interact with the people I tagged, but I did mention the characters. You know, so you can read Sloane's thought process, and then file for defamation of character.
psych0pomp Member
DOUBT EVERYTHING
except me... i'm cool
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| 𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 : ANGEL GROVE COMMUNITY CENTER | 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 : DRUIDON & LONESOME DOVE | 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢 : ALL EYES ON YOU |
Sloane’s encouragement to exit—egress as he’d so warmly called it—fell on deaf ears. Vallory ran forward, unphased, to combat the oddly uniformed soldiers. He turned to Ross, hoping he wasn’t so impulsive, but Ross did just the same. “Are you fucking kidding me!” Sloane exclaimed; the sugar-sweet veneer washed away from stress. His fingers tightened on the baseball bat.
Druidon. He knew what they were, but the name still felt like volcanic ash in the back of his throat. Sloane couldn’t swallow it down no matter how hard he tried. While the McCabe’s hadn’t been in the middle of the physical war, avoiding the carnage of death and destruction, they had been a part of a different one. The blame had been placed at GENESIS’s feet and the feet of those that had supported them—namely his family. With the Druidon came the fear of being in his own home. The yelling. The threats. The—
“Mommy!” a child’s voice pierced his thoughts, drowning out the slowly growing cacophony of voices in his head. Sloane snapped back to reality. Ross and Vallory were in the middle of fighting the Druidon, and quite frankly they could have the damn monsters. He didn’t care for a piece of that action, because he wasn’t some hormone-crazed thrill junkie. No, Sloane was right from the get-go—they needed to find the exit. But maybe he caught sight of a kid, and maybe his climb getting to said exit had grown a few steps.
Sloane ran towards the child. She stood in the middle of chairs and tables that had been blasted to the ground by the Druidon’s lance. There were people attempting to get out from underneath them. Sloane would have to worry about that later. Instead, he focused on the kid who was currently snotting into her Dora the Explorer shirt with an increasing degree.
“Where’s your mom?” Sloane asked.
The kid looked up at him, and her eyes were as large as goldfish bowls. “She told me not to talk to strangers.”
“Are you—” Sloane let out a noise of exasperation. “Look, kid, you can choose between me or them,” he waved towards the Druidon, “and I want to help you find your mom. They want to…” about that time another one of the Druidon’s fired their weapon, and the crack of rubble was more than audible.
The kid hiccuped in fear, more snot pouring out of her nose. “She’s over there,” the girl gurgled, pointing closer towards the building. Sloane narrowed his eyes, trying to block the sun out. There was a sheer panic of people trying to make their way towards an exit—any exit. Hadn’t Ross gone over this before the entire thing had started? Weren’t there clearer signs? Fire Marshall’s existed for a reason—Ross from Friends. Calling him Joey from now on.
The kid sniffled even hard, a snot bubble forming. He needed to find her mom before she managed to glom onto him like a ball of goo. It was then he saw a woman pinned underneath a table. He could see why the kid was too scared to make it over there—there was a lot of rubble between them.
“Come on,” Sloane said, pocketing his phone and grabbing the kid’s hand. It was very sticky. He tried not to think about it as he half-hoisted her up, half-pulled her closer to the building. In the kid’s defense, she came along without much fuss. He swore he heard her giggling once as he maneuvered through the rubble and lifted her over a few taller pieces of broken concrete. Sloane was breathing hard by the time he got to the woman, but he wasted no time. Setting down the bat, he grabbed the edge of the picnic table and lifted it. The woman looked at him, her eyes as wide as her daughters. Sloane could hear the crunch of his knee as he deadlifted the piece of furniture. “Move,” he grunted. The woman scrambled out from underneath it, allowing Sloane to drop the thing. He placed his hands on his knees and caught his breath.
The woman ran towards the girl, and they embraced. Sloane had been a bit concerned he’d freed the wrong person. He didn’t have the time or the stamina to play “Where’s Snot Goblin’s Mom?”
The woman looked at him. “Thank you!”
Sloane smiled through deep breaths and gave a thumbs up.
Her eyes trailed to his bat. “Can I—”
“Uh, no.” He pointed towards a doorway with a flashing EXIT sign above it. Maybe Joey had done his job. “Please exit in an orderly fashion, and try not to lose your kid again. You’ve already lost your ‘Mom of the Year’ award.”
Indignation passed over the mother’s face, but she grabbed the young girl and headed that way. A few words were said under her breath, and the child gasped in response. “Mommy, I thought we didn’t say those words,” the kid chastised as they left the scene.
Sloane picked up his bat, leaning on it like it was a cane. He took a few large breathes—soothing his burning lungs. He’d thoroughly taxed his knee. Dr. Gardner would probably "tsk" and furiously clack away on his keyboard before prescribing Sloane yet another round of physical therapy and medication. So, Sloane should leave now—right? He should minimize the damage while still looking like a hero—right? Right! Except that when he swept the scene, he saw those monsters starting to swarm someone. The person was tall, Sloane could make that out, and they were damn well holding their own against the Druidon. Yet, it wasn’t Vallory, unless she’d suddenly turned into Jolly Green Cowboy Giant. Sloane considered leaving, but his feet stayed firmly planted. Fine, he'd be the hero one last time.
He ran towards the monsters with his bat raised. Without thinking, Sloane struck one of the Druidon square in the back. There was a loud crack as the monster heaved forward. He would have been pleased with himself had it not turned around and focused all its attention on him—and it wasn’t the only one.
“Oh shit,” Sloane let out. Hey, at least Dr. Gardner wouldn’t be able to get onto him, because he would be dead.
Druidon. He knew what they were, but the name still felt like volcanic ash in the back of his throat. Sloane couldn’t swallow it down no matter how hard he tried. While the McCabe’s hadn’t been in the middle of the physical war, avoiding the carnage of death and destruction, they had been a part of a different one. The blame had been placed at GENESIS’s feet and the feet of those that had supported them—namely his family. With the Druidon came the fear of being in his own home. The yelling. The threats. The—
“Mommy!” a child’s voice pierced his thoughts, drowning out the slowly growing cacophony of voices in his head. Sloane snapped back to reality. Ross and Vallory were in the middle of fighting the Druidon, and quite frankly they could have the damn monsters. He didn’t care for a piece of that action, because he wasn’t some hormone-crazed thrill junkie. No, Sloane was right from the get-go—they needed to find the exit. But maybe he caught sight of a kid, and maybe his climb getting to said exit had grown a few steps.
Sloane ran towards the child. She stood in the middle of chairs and tables that had been blasted to the ground by the Druidon’s lance. There were people attempting to get out from underneath them. Sloane would have to worry about that later. Instead, he focused on the kid who was currently snotting into her Dora the Explorer shirt with an increasing degree.
“Where’s your mom?” Sloane asked.
The kid looked up at him, and her eyes were as large as goldfish bowls. “She told me not to talk to strangers.”
“Are you—” Sloane let out a noise of exasperation. “Look, kid, you can choose between me or them,” he waved towards the Druidon, “and I want to help you find your mom. They want to…” about that time another one of the Druidon’s fired their weapon, and the crack of rubble was more than audible.
The kid hiccuped in fear, more snot pouring out of her nose. “She’s over there,” the girl gurgled, pointing closer towards the building. Sloane narrowed his eyes, trying to block the sun out. There was a sheer panic of people trying to make their way towards an exit—any exit. Hadn’t Ross gone over this before the entire thing had started? Weren’t there clearer signs? Fire Marshall’s existed for a reason—Ross from Friends. Calling him Joey from now on.
The kid sniffled even hard, a snot bubble forming. He needed to find her mom before she managed to glom onto him like a ball of goo. It was then he saw a woman pinned underneath a table. He could see why the kid was too scared to make it over there—there was a lot of rubble between them.
“Come on,” Sloane said, pocketing his phone and grabbing the kid’s hand. It was very sticky. He tried not to think about it as he half-hoisted her up, half-pulled her closer to the building. In the kid’s defense, she came along without much fuss. He swore he heard her giggling once as he maneuvered through the rubble and lifted her over a few taller pieces of broken concrete. Sloane was breathing hard by the time he got to the woman, but he wasted no time. Setting down the bat, he grabbed the edge of the picnic table and lifted it. The woman looked at him, her eyes as wide as her daughters. Sloane could hear the crunch of his knee as he deadlifted the piece of furniture. “Move,” he grunted. The woman scrambled out from underneath it, allowing Sloane to drop the thing. He placed his hands on his knees and caught his breath.
The woman ran towards the girl, and they embraced. Sloane had been a bit concerned he’d freed the wrong person. He didn’t have the time or the stamina to play “Where’s Snot Goblin’s Mom?”
The woman looked at him. “Thank you!”
Sloane smiled through deep breaths and gave a thumbs up.
Her eyes trailed to his bat. “Can I—”
“Uh, no.” He pointed towards a doorway with a flashing EXIT sign above it. Maybe Joey had done his job. “Please exit in an orderly fashion, and try not to lose your kid again. You’ve already lost your ‘Mom of the Year’ award.”
Indignation passed over the mother’s face, but she grabbed the young girl and headed that way. A few words were said under her breath, and the child gasped in response. “Mommy, I thought we didn’t say those words,” the kid chastised as they left the scene.
Sloane picked up his bat, leaning on it like it was a cane. He took a few large breathes—soothing his burning lungs. He’d thoroughly taxed his knee. Dr. Gardner would probably "tsk" and furiously clack away on his keyboard before prescribing Sloane yet another round of physical therapy and medication. So, Sloane should leave now—right? He should minimize the damage while still looking like a hero—right? Right! Except that when he swept the scene, he saw those monsters starting to swarm someone. The person was tall, Sloane could make that out, and they were damn well holding their own against the Druidon. Yet, it wasn’t Vallory, unless she’d suddenly turned into Jolly Green Cowboy Giant. Sloane considered leaving, but his feet stayed firmly planted. Fine, he'd be the hero one last time.
He ran towards the monsters with his bat raised. Without thinking, Sloane struck one of the Druidon square in the back. There was a loud crack as the monster heaved forward. He would have been pleased with himself had it not turned around and focused all its attention on him—and it wasn’t the only one.
“Oh shit,” Sloane let out. Hey, at least Dr. Gardner wouldn’t be able to get onto him, because he would be dead.
| 𝖳𝖠𝖦(𝖲) : @metanoia @Zoey Boey @Potemking |
The year is 26XX, and the world is a new and different beast. Buildings rise from the earth, seemingly infinite towers that breach the sky above. The moon has a ring of debris formed of the destroyed ships from the Palindrome Exodus, and they flicker like technicolor stars in the night sky. Cities no longer exist on the ground below, but instead on massive infrastructures hovering above the blue waves of Earth. They span miles upon miles. Yet, you would think that would have deterred humanity. It did not.
Neuryke City is where our story begins. It is no different from any other city on the Mega Corpo-Platforms that rise from the deep, deep ocean of Earth. Hovercrafts, HOV-C’s as they are called, fly between and through buildings—taking to the air with the ease of swans. Holographic billboards form the skyline, promising a better and shinier life with their experiences or products. People cover their bodies in chrome and cybernetics, trying to keep up with the latest trends and functionality. Work is not easy, and living is not cheap. But those that manage to climb the towers are rewarded with a life of excess that they could never imagine. They may owe their thanks to the Sisyphean Network, an underground group of hackers, fixers, mercs, and riggers who have come as indispensable as the platform that keeps the city afloat. You live amongst all of this, surviving the best you can. But what little normalcy you’ve carved out for yourself is about to be ruined.
Within the bowels of Neuryke City is a plague that has been linked to Pre-Exodus Tech. According to the media, it travels through Intrawire—the global network in which all things are connected—and uploads into people’s ports whenever they dock, connect, or plugin. Even the strongest anti-viral software and firewalls can’t stop it. It’s called Red Plague as the first symptom are tears of blood. Those affected are deemed corrupted, and according to the media take to feasting on their fellow humans, mostly through exsanguination but there has been some cannibalization. Their cybernetics become organic and start to grow, and their internal processors form new programs beyond anything humanly capable. Yet, not everyone survives the corruption. Those that don’t are called husks, moving by the volition of their cybernetics alone and ripping out those from any organic life they can find. They become mindless shells of their former selves that just wish to feed and accumulate mass. Fortunately, only 1% of Neuryke City’s population has found to be affected, and according to the media it has been contained.
There has been talk, though. Within the depths of the Intrawire rumors are bubbling to the surface that the corrupted that haven’t been caught by Neurkye Templars—the NCPD’s elite Red Plague Task Force—have started to congregate. Digging even deeper into those rumors, you might find something even more disturbing. That the corrupt are not only coming together, but they already have a centuries-old government existing within the towers of Neuryke City. That they no longer classify themselves as human. No, these corrupted call themselves by many names, but the one that has stuck the longest is vampire].
This is where your story begins. You awaken one evening to your cybernetics glitching out and blood pouring from your eyes. Your HUD flickers and you’re greeted with a new message:
"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum."
I was having a busy day at work today. Sorry for making you guys wait. Always feel free to skip me if need to. Somedays, my job is forgiving, and somedays it's not.
Anyway, so, Sloane chose not the most heroic option, but I realized that technically he doesn't know how to fight. He has a bat, but he's never hit anyone with it. Or at least, not on purpose...
Anyway, so, Sloane chose not the most heroic option, but I realized that technically he doesn't know how to fight. He has a bat, but he's never hit anyone with it. Or at least, not on purpose...
| 𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 : ANGEL GROVE COMMUNITY CENTER | 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 : VALLORY & ROSS | 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢 : --- |
Sloane smiled at Vallory and Ross. Perfect white teeth in a perfect row hid the thoughts churning behind dull, gray eyes. "McCabe," he corrected, fully understanding that she was getting him back for earlier. "Sloane McCabe. You know, I thought we could have put two and two together with my name, but it's no big deal." And it didn't come across like a big deal for the most part. Sloane seemed to not linger as he grabbed his phone and flicked through a few different modes and filters until landing on something that he liked. Yet, that didn't change the tenseness in his shoulders. The litmus test on his feelings would be hard to read.
He allowed himself to be pulled into Vallory, and to leave some room for Ross. He held the phone up, the front-facing camera trying its hardest to capture them all in the frame. A less egotistical man would have let Vallory do it. Still, Sloane didn't grow up getting his picture taken constantly not to know how to handle himself. He went to say "Cheese," or something equally as idiotic when Ross complained about his underwear. Despite his best attempt, Sloane laughed. The phone clicked, and the picture was taken. He glanced at it. "Good enough," he said. He had played it down. It was a very nice picture. Sloane was mid-laugh, highlighting his cheekbones, Ross seemed handsomely annoyed, and Vallory was selling it like she always did. Sloane may have admired it for a moment longer than he intended... especially when he saw something in the background. "What is that? Ryan, did you hire cosplayers?" He looked behind him to see no costumed men but armed soldiers making their way towards them. "Shit!" He exclaimed, nearly dropping the phone.
Sloane grabbed his bat, wielding it one hand as he held his phone in the other. "We need to get out of here." He turned to Ross. "You set this up. What's the safest path of egress?" He paused. "Egress, it means to exit in case they didn't teach you that in Little Orphan Annie school."
He allowed himself to be pulled into Vallory, and to leave some room for Ross. He held the phone up, the front-facing camera trying its hardest to capture them all in the frame. A less egotistical man would have let Vallory do it. Still, Sloane didn't grow up getting his picture taken constantly not to know how to handle himself. He went to say "Cheese," or something equally as idiotic when Ross complained about his underwear. Despite his best attempt, Sloane laughed. The phone clicked, and the picture was taken. He glanced at it. "Good enough," he said. He had played it down. It was a very nice picture. Sloane was mid-laugh, highlighting his cheekbones, Ross seemed handsomely annoyed, and Vallory was selling it like she always did. Sloane may have admired it for a moment longer than he intended... especially when he saw something in the background. "What is that? Ryan, did you hire cosplayers?" He looked behind him to see no costumed men but armed soldiers making their way towards them. "Shit!" He exclaimed, nearly dropping the phone.
Sloane grabbed his bat, wielding it one hand as he held his phone in the other. "We need to get out of here." He turned to Ross. "You set this up. What's the safest path of egress?" He paused. "Egress, it means to exit in case they didn't teach you that in Little Orphan Annie school."
| 𝖳𝖠𝖦(𝖲) : @metanoia @Zoey Boey |
| 𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 : ANGEL GROVE COMMUNITY CENTER | 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 : VALLORY & ROSS | 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢 : I'm a Casanova; I Can't Help It |
The baseball bat had been tucked underneath Sloane's arm when he'd played "The Floor is Lava" over the food court. He hadn't meant to carry it with him away from the booth, but he also feared leaving it within David's reach. Also, what did it hurt? It was on-brand for him. Ex-Captain of the Angel Grove Baseball team, and winner of so many awards that he honestly blurred them together into some amalgamation of grandeur.
Sloane smiled as Vallory corrected him. "Ah, that's it." Though it was hard to know which it he was agreeing needed correction. He pulled the bat out from under his arm and twirled it before setting it on his shoulder. "Afraid I'm not a clown. No luck with balloon animals and all that. But..." He let the sentence trail off as gave a very over-pronounced bow. "I was in the local theater's production of the musical CATS. So, I think that may be a fair exchange. I'll even sing my musical number if people need a good laugh. Not that I think that would help." He straightened up, moving off the table and onto the ground like people in a normal conversation did. "It might make things worse."
It was then he turned his attention to Randy, dammit, Ross. It was a battle of social posturing, and it was apparent that Ross had decided to bring his A-Game. Well, Sloane wasn't about to back down. Especially, as Ross tasked him with a duty that'd seem outright rude to turn down.
"Of course!" Sloane propped the bat against the table and fished out his phone. "And that's so sweet of you to want to put Vallory Vance and your own interest above my personal gain. I would never take advantage of that. Promote away! The fraternity had tons of members, and they'll be more than happy to share. Also, don't know if you know this..." He leaned into the two of them. "My dad is sort of a big deal around here. The McCabe Building on the university's campus is named after us. So, anything tied to me and our family will definitely blow up." Sloane then turned directly towards Ross. "And you're so cute for caring so much about the community. So, get in here with me and Starshine." He smirked. "And I'll hold the camera up for the selfie, since we do need height." Sloane winked.
Sloane smiled as Vallory corrected him. "Ah, that's it." Though it was hard to know which it he was agreeing needed correction. He pulled the bat out from under his arm and twirled it before setting it on his shoulder. "Afraid I'm not a clown. No luck with balloon animals and all that. But..." He let the sentence trail off as gave a very over-pronounced bow. "I was in the local theater's production of the musical CATS. So, I think that may be a fair exchange. I'll even sing my musical number if people need a good laugh. Not that I think that would help." He straightened up, moving off the table and onto the ground like people in a normal conversation did. "It might make things worse."
It was then he turned his attention to Randy, dammit, Ross. It was a battle of social posturing, and it was apparent that Ross had decided to bring his A-Game. Well, Sloane wasn't about to back down. Especially, as Ross tasked him with a duty that'd seem outright rude to turn down.
"Of course!" Sloane propped the bat against the table and fished out his phone. "And that's so sweet of you to want to put Vallory Vance and your own interest above my personal gain. I would never take advantage of that. Promote away! The fraternity had tons of members, and they'll be more than happy to share. Also, don't know if you know this..." He leaned into the two of them. "My dad is sort of a big deal around here. The McCabe Building on the university's campus is named after us. So, anything tied to me and our family will definitely blow up." Sloane then turned directly towards Ross. "And you're so cute for caring so much about the community. So, get in here with me and Starshine." He smirked. "And I'll hold the camera up for the selfie, since we do need height." Sloane winked.
| 𝖳𝖠𝖦(𝖲) : @metanoia @Zoey Boey |
| 𝖣𝖠𝖳𝖤 : 9 APRIL 2018 | 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 : NONE | 𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 : THIRD YEAR CLASS ROOM |
Maki looked around, taking in the new construction as people filed in. The shiny coat of paint wouldn’t fix years of emotional damage that Hinotori High did to its students. They’d remember it fondly—sure. But right now, she’d be fine with spray painting tits, ass, and dicks on the walls. At least it would be more interesting watching paint dry on a well-endowed, hot-pink dick than listening to teachers talk about the new experiences that come with a new year. Maki gagged.
She grabbed the headphones out of her bag, moving it for her other classmates to sit down. The rebellious streak in her wanted to tell them to fuck it, but she feared the students who might take it as an invitation to the zipper on her bag. Maki slipped her headphones on and grabbed her phone.
[64 New Messages]
Honestly, she didn’t know why she stayed in that group chat. Maybe it would be a sign of weakness to leave. Maybe it was nice to know what they were saying to her face rather than behind her back. Though, she wondered what was said there as well. She flicked the notifications away and pulled up her playlist. She started the next song, letting the hum of conversation get drowned out by a loud guitar riff. Her finger hovered over the “Archived Messages” on her phone. The first name was Shiro. Maki bit her lip and locked the screen on her phone. She leaned her head back, trying to just let all those stupid thoughts fade.
“Butterfly,” Maki grunted out as she woke up. The music in her headphones was still going, but she was on a new album now. She blinked blearily. Half-expecting for the assembly to be over and her to be alone at the assembly, she found that it was still going. Damn! Is this shit still going on? By that time the Student Council President was in front of the microphone. Maki peeled the headphones off, her mind still reeling from the odd dream she’d had. It felt like déjà vu.
Wiping the side of her mouth, she focused on the Class President. Maki knew the girl—Nakano. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the other’s current position, Maki might have respected her. Nakano knew her shit, and she had stepped up in the wake of the previous president’s disappearance. That thought collided with Nakano’s words. Maki kept her eyes forward as she stuffed her phone and headphones away. She’d forgotten about the missing students. It wasn’t because they were forgettable, but more that it was hard to focus on that and everything else. Maki had known a few of them, but none of them on a personal level. It sucked, but what good would do to think about it now? They were gone. As Maki concluded that thought, so did the assembly. She let a few people leave before she followed suit. Back at it…
Maki chose a seat in the middle back. It wasn’t that she enjoyed playing into the rebel stereotype, but it was harder for her classmates to vandalize her jacket or hair if they couldn’t get to it. She glanced back to her phone.
[72 New Messages]
Opening it up, she saw where people were hypothesizing that Maki had done something to the missing students. Oh come the fuck on! She glanced around. Seriously? She narrowed her eyes as she glanced at the front of the classroom. Fine. If they wanted gossip, Maki would give them gossip.
She walked towards the board at the front of the class and took the marker from its place in the metal holder. Maki didn’t know if it was her imagination or reality, but it became quieter as she started to write on the board with acuity and speed that came from working with sloppy mediums in short time frames.
Maki finished, taking a step back to glance over her work. There was a bit of an artistic flourish to her writing style that wasn’t outright identifiable, but it narrowed down the guesses. And at the bottom, she signed with a little butterfly. It was still hovering in her mind from her accidental nap. Honestly, it'd taken space there for a while now. She couldn't say when it'd moved in rent-free, but it wasn't leaving. Chatter started up from the class as Maki placed the marker back and returned to her seat with a smile plastered on her dark lips. Yeah, yeah... it was a shitty move.
| 𝖳𝖠𝖦(𝖲) : N/A |
@Zoey Boey Curses! You've seen through my trick to never learn character names. Just get a character that refuses to learn them unless they're famous.
But Sloane didn't come here to make friends. He came here to drive a robot t-rex. Everyone's dream.
But Sloane didn't come here to make friends. He came here to drive a robot t-rex. Everyone's dream.
And now I am in tears. Sloane is amazing. lmao
Awe, thanks! It's been a minute since I've played a shit stain of a person.
Man. I've been loving everyone's posts. This is such a fun and dynamic group. I need to catch up with the veteran group. I was trying to get a post out. Had a weirdly busy 24 hours.
Also. Like the blind person I am, I just saw the header on the first OOC page. It's sweet. Look at those nerds.
| 𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 : ANGEL GROVE COMMUNITY CENTER | 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 : VALLORY & ROSS | 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢 : "Imma smile right through it..." |
“You’re too rich for our blood, Sly,” David said, leaning against the ΩΑΞ's (Omega Alpha Xi) booth. It had the honor of securing a corner spot and the extra space that went with it. Along with the red, blue, and gold decorated booth, there was a dunk tank. Currently, they were both empty as people were slowly trickling by, but eyes hadn’t quite peered into that lofty setup. So, the three members of the booth weren’t really paying attention. The flyers promoting a brotherhood centered around the accomplishments both scholastic and athletic were still tied up, and cardboard signs that insured an enriching experience laid on the ground.
“Oh, come on, David,” Sloane said, resting a baseball bat on his shoulder. He glanced at Travis, who was pretending to look at his shoes. “Alright. Alright. I bet you twenty bucks that I can do it.”
Travis and David perked up about that time. “Fine fine,” the latter said. “I want to see this.” He reached for his wallet. “And I want my money back with interest when you fail.”
“Yes!” Sloane grabbed the bills out of their hands and stuffed them into his pockets. Oh, they weren’t getting them back. A few passers-by eyed the three young men, trying to figure out if they were affiliated with the booth they were in front of. Sloane caught their gaze and flashed a bright smile. “Come one and all!” he announced, engaging his diagram. “Watch what sort of excellence that the Oh-Au-Xi welcome into their numbers!”
David snickered and moved towards the dunk tank—removing his bright red ΩΑΞ jacket. He climbed in. They’d rigged the thing to not fall unless a lot of pressure was applied to the target. It would be far more than a kid with a baseball could achieve. It wasn’t because they wanted to disappoint anyone, but there were certain safety certificates that none of the frat brothers had remembered to get.
“Lo and behold!” Sloane leaned back, placing the knob of the baseball bat on his forehead, balancing it. Sure enough, it stood completely erect as he centered himself. “Feel free to take pictures. Just remember to tag me.”
David cupped his mouth. “Boo! You’ll have to do more than that.”
Sloane couldn’t see the people in front of him, but he heard some light cheering and claps. Fine. If they wanted a performance—he’d give them one. He leaned back, slowly lifting his leg and standing on his tip-toe. The bat wobbled but nothing happened. “Huh?”
There was a little more cheering. It was then that he hopped, changing legs, and kept the bat precariously in place. A few more leg switches, a twirl, and a stilted dance move or two, and he kept the bat nearly unmoving and completely unfallen. People were calling out now. “One more,” he said. “And this one is for the ladies.” There was a light bit of chuckling. Sloane’s knee was hurting by now, but he had promised.
It was then that a small crowd watched a twenty-something man in expensive, but apparently forgiving, khakis slide into the splits. Well, he was a half-a-foot from the ground, but there was only so much he could do in dress clothes. The bat wobbled. Sloane extended his arms. It stayed. The applause then came in earnest. He tilted his head forward, letting the bat fall into his hand.
Travis got behind the booth as a few interested parties moved towards it. David scoffed behind Sloane, only a foot back but a few feet upwards suspended over water. “Whatever, I guess you earned it. Good to know that daddy McCabe paid all that money for you to be a circus clown.”
Sloane started to pull himself up, purposefully leaning into the target for support. It gave way, and the seat went out from underneath David—water splashing.
“What was that?”Sloane pressed his hand against his ear. “Just as I thought, nothing.”
David sputtered. “When I get out of here, Sly, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Sloane glanced down at his wrist, pushing up the sleeve of the red ΩΑΞ coat. “Oh look at that. It’s lunchtime.” He took the bat in one hand, and shot David the finger with free one—hiding it away from the crowd. “And I have forty bucks to get whatever I want in the shitty food court.”
Sloane winced as pain lanced through his knee and up his leg. He’d definitely overdone it. But he knew that if he didn’t fully commit he wouldn’t hear the end of it from David—the sentient pebble. And, hey, he’d made some money. His phone pinged a few times as people had started tagging him in photos and videos of that stunt. There were a few showing him purposely dunking David. He needed to rebound from that shit move pretty fast. Sloane glanced around at the decent but not sizeable crowd. No one would think negatively of promoting the event he’d already “volunteered” at. Roped into, was more like it.
He hopped on a vacant table, grabbing his phone and panning it around as he recorded. A few people waved, a few people ducked into their clothing, and a few people gawked at the guy on the table in a bright red blazer, slacks, blue button-up shirt with roses on it, and boat shoes. Sloane pushed his blond hair from his face and turned the camera towards him. “At the Angel Grove Youth Center with my boys, Oh-Au-Xis. Come join us. And if you come after lunch, you’ll have a chance to dunk this handsome face in the water.” He leaned in, whispering. “I know you want to.” He then turned off the camera. Before he could hop off the table, he caught two figures at a table apart from everyone else’s. It only took a moment to recognize Vallory Vance from the wrestling league, and the guy that arranged the entire thing—Ryan or something.
Instead of getting off of the tables, he hopped to one that wasn’t too far away and was mostly vacant. There were a few gasps as he avoided everyone’s lunches with studied precision. A couple more table leaps later, and he’d fully pissed off most of the food court. That was fine, it just meant that they’d visit the booth later to dunk him. PR was PR. It didn’t have to be good.
“Vallory Vance!” Sloane said, loudly. He lifted his arms as if he was greeting an old friend. “Can I get a picture with you for my gram? I assure you, it’ll get some more eyes on Starshine and the Waffle.” It was then he glanced at the other person. “And you too, the guy who organized the thing—Randy or whatever.”
“Oh, come on, David,” Sloane said, resting a baseball bat on his shoulder. He glanced at Travis, who was pretending to look at his shoes. “Alright. Alright. I bet you twenty bucks that I can do it.”
Travis and David perked up about that time. “Fine fine,” the latter said. “I want to see this.” He reached for his wallet. “And I want my money back with interest when you fail.”
“Yes!” Sloane grabbed the bills out of their hands and stuffed them into his pockets. Oh, they weren’t getting them back. A few passers-by eyed the three young men, trying to figure out if they were affiliated with the booth they were in front of. Sloane caught their gaze and flashed a bright smile. “Come one and all!” he announced, engaging his diagram. “Watch what sort of excellence that the Oh-Au-Xi welcome into their numbers!”
David snickered and moved towards the dunk tank—removing his bright red ΩΑΞ jacket. He climbed in. They’d rigged the thing to not fall unless a lot of pressure was applied to the target. It would be far more than a kid with a baseball could achieve. It wasn’t because they wanted to disappoint anyone, but there were certain safety certificates that none of the frat brothers had remembered to get.
“Lo and behold!” Sloane leaned back, placing the knob of the baseball bat on his forehead, balancing it. Sure enough, it stood completely erect as he centered himself. “Feel free to take pictures. Just remember to tag me.”
David cupped his mouth. “Boo! You’ll have to do more than that.”
Sloane couldn’t see the people in front of him, but he heard some light cheering and claps. Fine. If they wanted a performance—he’d give them one. He leaned back, slowly lifting his leg and standing on his tip-toe. The bat wobbled but nothing happened. “Huh?”
There was a little more cheering. It was then that he hopped, changing legs, and kept the bat precariously in place. A few more leg switches, a twirl, and a stilted dance move or two, and he kept the bat nearly unmoving and completely unfallen. People were calling out now. “One more,” he said. “And this one is for the ladies.” There was a light bit of chuckling. Sloane’s knee was hurting by now, but he had promised.
It was then that a small crowd watched a twenty-something man in expensive, but apparently forgiving, khakis slide into the splits. Well, he was a half-a-foot from the ground, but there was only so much he could do in dress clothes. The bat wobbled. Sloane extended his arms. It stayed. The applause then came in earnest. He tilted his head forward, letting the bat fall into his hand.
Travis got behind the booth as a few interested parties moved towards it. David scoffed behind Sloane, only a foot back but a few feet upwards suspended over water. “Whatever, I guess you earned it. Good to know that daddy McCabe paid all that money for you to be a circus clown.”
Sloane started to pull himself up, purposefully leaning into the target for support. It gave way, and the seat went out from underneath David—water splashing.
“What was that?”Sloane pressed his hand against his ear. “Just as I thought, nothing.”
David sputtered. “When I get out of here, Sly, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Sloane glanced down at his wrist, pushing up the sleeve of the red ΩΑΞ coat. “Oh look at that. It’s lunchtime.” He took the bat in one hand, and shot David the finger with free one—hiding it away from the crowd. “And I have forty bucks to get whatever I want in the shitty food court.”
Sloane winced as pain lanced through his knee and up his leg. He’d definitely overdone it. But he knew that if he didn’t fully commit he wouldn’t hear the end of it from David—the sentient pebble. And, hey, he’d made some money. His phone pinged a few times as people had started tagging him in photos and videos of that stunt. There were a few showing him purposely dunking David. He needed to rebound from that shit move pretty fast. Sloane glanced around at the decent but not sizeable crowd. No one would think negatively of promoting the event he’d already “volunteered” at. Roped into, was more like it.
He hopped on a vacant table, grabbing his phone and panning it around as he recorded. A few people waved, a few people ducked into their clothing, and a few people gawked at the guy on the table in a bright red blazer, slacks, blue button-up shirt with roses on it, and boat shoes. Sloane pushed his blond hair from his face and turned the camera towards him. “At the Angel Grove Youth Center with my boys, Oh-Au-Xis. Come join us. And if you come after lunch, you’ll have a chance to dunk this handsome face in the water.” He leaned in, whispering. “I know you want to.” He then turned off the camera. Before he could hop off the table, he caught two figures at a table apart from everyone else’s. It only took a moment to recognize Vallory Vance from the wrestling league, and the guy that arranged the entire thing—Ryan or something.
Instead of getting off of the tables, he hopped to one that wasn’t too far away and was mostly vacant. There were a few gasps as he avoided everyone’s lunches with studied precision. A couple more table leaps later, and he’d fully pissed off most of the food court. That was fine, it just meant that they’d visit the booth later to dunk him. PR was PR. It didn’t have to be good.
“Vallory Vance!” Sloane said, loudly. He lifted his arms as if he was greeting an old friend. “Can I get a picture with you for my gram? I assure you, it’ll get some more eyes on Starshine and the Waffle.” It was then he glanced at the other person. “And you too, the guy who organized the thing—Randy or whatever.”
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