Right,
Hello.
I’m Gerard Keay.
Sorry if this isn’t working— I’m in a book, so I’m not sure how this is working.
I… What else?
If your name is Jurgen Leitner, Jonah Magnus, or Trevor Herbert, DNI.*
$LAYYYTER
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@bloody-dictionary
Right,
Hello.
I’m Gerard Keay.
Sorry if this isn’t working— I’m in a book, so I’m not sure how this is working.
I… What else?
If your name is Jurgen Leitner, Jonah Magnus, or Trevor Herbert, DNI.*
This is a blog created by @catsithkelpie to create an easy way for TMA OC Roleplay blogs (and canon character blogs, but the focus will be on ocs) to find eachother and roleplay.
Header image by @failingatlifespectacularly
To submit your blog to the list, just reblog this post via that blog! If you wish to submit an OC info post or other content to be stored in the archive (to be reblogged here and posts on the same character to be linked together), reblog with links to each post.
I may choose not to add your blog if there is no pinned post. It's hard to tell which list to put someone under without a clear statement of whether your blog is an OC or canon. If I accidentally assign you to the wrong list, please comment under this post for reassignment.
Please put a tag or something on your reblog so they don't clump together in my notifications. I'm getting a lot of them. If you don't, I might ignore it. Tumblr UI sucks.
Please make sure you're taggable BEFORE applying.
OC info posts should contain an image and/or physical description, and at least a short bio. If you don't meet these requirements, please revise and try again.
If you fail to follow these rules, your submission will be put on the back burner and possibly not answered at all. There are a LOT more of you than I initially thought.
Tags used in posts:
Answering asks: #asks
Ran into a problem: #technical difficulties
Changes, new information, etc: #update
Adding OC-related posts: #@(blog name)
RP Blogs (Below the Cut):
Ran out of tags.
If you are going to submit a list of blogs in the comments, please at least group them by whether or not they're an OC or canon, and don't add text in between the blog handles. It makes it a lot easier to copy-paste them all!
Oh, and if you want to be removed from a list, let me know!
(More tags) Responding in rbs: #chatting
RP events: #event #rp event
Pt. 2! (Below cut)
Part. 3! (Below Cut)
If you want a list sorted by which Fear the character belongs to, here's an archive made by another user. (Safe link, tracker removed.)
Here are other blogs that I run (safe link, yada yada. They're always safe links)
*Added clarification to rule 1: "Other content" includes rp requests. You can tag and ask me to reblog or you can submit the request to me directly for me to post.
RIP Gerard Keay. You'd find Scientology speed runs hilarious.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
Questions or history may repeat itself, your choice.
...Also, I just said. It's 2002. I'm 13.
Oh wait shit yeah I’m still disoriented.
He lied. Like a liar.
Fine. Whatever just know I’m not planning on answering many questions. In 2008, I was charged for the murder of Mary Keay. I did not kill her.
...Right. Do you know the day? I can try and establish an alibi at the least. Sounds like a hassle.
Not even going to question how I’ve mentioned I still live with her? Whatever. I guess I remember being like this.
I think.. it was early July? Maybe the second or third. I’m not sure. It was a bit of a blur.
Good to know. And yeah I could question it. Would it change anything? Mum does what mum does. Probably used some book.
It.. probably wouldn’t change anything, yeah.
He shrugs, shaking himself slightly.
I should be off, I’m meant to be in Bournemouth, and it’ll be a hell of a way back there.
Really? Nothing else big has changed?
I mean, not really? Still stuck hunting book, and burning them when I can. If you have any specific questions, go ahead, but I’m too dizzy to think of anything helpful.
Dizzy? Didn't know getting thrown was that bad. I'll keep those things in mind, thanks.
I imagine it’s somewhat like how your guts get all.. liquidity after an explosion, or whatever it is.
Yeah sure, I'll believe it. Go get your Bournemouth Leitner.
Yessir, hopefully won’t see you again. Probably would cause a rip in the time .. line? Thing? I don’t even know anymore.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
Questions or history may repeat itself, your choice.
...Also, I just said. It's 2002. I'm 13.
Oh wait shit yeah I’m still disoriented.
He lied. Like a liar.
Fine. Whatever just know I’m not planning on answering many questions. In 2008, I was charged for the murder of Mary Keay. I did not kill her.
...Right. Do you know the day? I can try and establish an alibi at the least. Sounds like a hassle.
Not even going to question how I’ve mentioned I still live with her? Whatever. I guess I remember being like this.
I think.. it was early July? Maybe the second or third. I’m not sure. It was a bit of a blur.
Good to know. And yeah I could question it. Would it change anything? Mum does what mum does. Probably used some book.
It.. probably wouldn’t change anything, yeah.
He shrugs, shaking himself slightly.
I should be off, I’m meant to be in Bournemouth, and it’ll be a hell of a way back there.
Really? Nothing else big has changed?
I mean, not really? Still stuck hunting book, and burning them when I can. If you have any specific questions, go ahead, but I’m too dizzy to think of anything helpful.
Dizzy? Didn't know getting thrown was that bad. I'll keep those things in mind, thanks.
I imagine it’s somewhat like how your guts get all.. liquidity after an explosion, or whatever it is.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
Questions or history may repeat itself, your choice.
...Also, I just said. It's 2002. I'm 13.
Oh wait shit yeah I’m still disoriented.
He lied. Like a liar.
Fine. Whatever just know I’m not planning on answering many questions. In 2008, I was charged for the murder of Mary Keay. I did not kill her.
...Right. Do you know the day? I can try and establish an alibi at the least. Sounds like a hassle.
Not even going to question how I’ve mentioned I still live with her? Whatever. I guess I remember being like this.
I think.. it was early July? Maybe the second or third. I’m not sure. It was a bit of a blur.
Good to know. And yeah I could question it. Would it change anything? Mum does what mum does. Probably used some book.
It.. probably wouldn’t change anything, yeah.
He shrugs, shaking himself slightly.
I should be off, I’m meant to be in Bournemouth, and it’ll be a hell of a way back there.
Really? Nothing else big has changed?
I mean, not really? Still stuck hunting book, and burning them when I can. If you have any specific questions, go ahead, but I’m too dizzy to think of anything helpful.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
Questions or history may repeat itself, your choice.
...Also, I just said. It's 2002. I'm 13.
Oh wait shit yeah I’m still disoriented.
He lied. Like a liar.
Fine. Whatever just know I’m not planning on answering many questions. In 2008, I was charged for the murder of Mary Keay. I did not kill her.
...Right. Do you know the day? I can try and establish an alibi at the least. Sounds like a hassle.
Not even going to question how I’ve mentioned I still live with her? Whatever. I guess I remember being like this.
I think.. it was early July? Maybe the second or third. I’m not sure. It was a bit of a blur.
Good to know. And yeah I could question it. Would it change anything? Mum does what mum does. Probably used some book.
It.. probably wouldn’t change anything, yeah.
He shrugs, shaking himself slightly.
I should be off, I’m meant to be in Bournemouth, and it’ll be a hell of a way back there.
who’s gonna tell him his roots are showing :(
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
Questions or history may repeat itself, your choice.
...Also, I just said. It's 2002. I'm 13.
Oh wait shit yeah I’m still disoriented.
He lied. Like a liar.
Fine. Whatever just know I’m not planning on answering many questions. In 2008, I was charged for the murder of Mary Keay. I did not kill her.
...Right. Do you know the day? I can try and establish an alibi at the least. Sounds like a hassle.
Not even going to question how I’ve mentioned I still live with her? Whatever. I guess I remember being like this.
I think.. it was early July? Maybe the second or third. I’m not sure. It was a bit of a blur.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
Questions or history may repeat itself, your choice.
...Also, I just said. It's 2002. I'm 13.
Oh wait shit yeah I’m still disoriented.
He lied. Like a liar.
Fine. Whatever just know I’m not planning on answering many questions. In 2008, I was charged for the murder of Mary Keay. I did not kill her.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
It's..fine, I get it. Reform club already happened a couple months ago.
Whose murder? If you don't tell me everything I can't exactly change it.
Oh wait yeah, what year are you from? I’m not very good at guessing ages, I’m ‘fraid.
I.. don’t think I should tell you. It’ll open up a floodgate of questions that I do not want to answer.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
Diego Molina, okay.
....The outside world isn't for us, you know that. What would I even do?
She’s.. never mind, you’ll find out.
What else, what else? Hmm. In 2002 you’ll find a passageway under The Reform Club in Pall Mall. You get charged for murder in.. god what was it, 2008? Probably won’t get arrested though. I didn’t.
I don’t really know what I’m meant to say, I mean I haven’t really been planning a conversation with my past self.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
[He looked insulted, but only mildly surprised at this point]
Could've just told me. So what do I need to avoid?
I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me, but I guess that was easier than I had assumed.
There’s .. Diego Molina in 2011, though I suppose without us he’d be alive.. I’m not sure if there’s much to avoid, per se. Butterfly effect or whatever.
I mean, I’m still stuck with Mum, so if there’s any way you can figure out how to get away from her. Do it. It’s not worth it.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
[He stares at the roots]
...are you me?
God, finally. Ding ding ding!
Yeah, I’m you from.. around, oh I don’t know, ten years in the future? Something like that.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
I do? Maybe you remember me from meeting up with mum or something after all.
[But he was clearly getting suspicious now.]
Hm. Maybe.
He yawns, his ginger roots more visible as he stretches.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’
[He's been staring at the man quite a lot, maybe he's catching on anyways]
Not sure how talking to me helps with that.
It doesn’t, actually. But you’re the only person around here, and I like the sound of my voice.
The last sentence is said mildly sarcastically, he fiddles in his pocket for a second, taking out his lighter to fiddle with.
Y’know, you remind me of someone. It’s a bit uncanny.
throws @bloody-dictionary (age ~22) at you
[Quickly dodges out of the way and then stares at him.]
Gerry coughs, landing hard on his side. He swears under his breath, before looking up at the strange kid he’d been flung at.
What the hell.
[He is still staring down at Gerry, more annoyed than anything.]
What? Do I have blood on my face?
It hits him, like a large bag filled with sardines, that this ..younger version of him, likely would not recognize him.
No. You don’t. Just.. not used to being thrown through space .. and time, just to land at the feet of some random kid.
[He holds back a sigh. Being called a kid usually came with questions he didn't feel like answering. Maybe if he left quick enough he could get out of them.]
Well, that makes two of us.
Gerry stands up, albeit ungracefully, and looks down at his young doppelgänger, trying to think of something not-suspicious to say…
What’s your name, kid?
Gerard. I should go, my mum wants me home for dinner soon.
[There, that's a thing that normal kids said. It's not like the man would know the difference when he went in the opposite direction from his house.]
No she doesn’t.
He says this casually, not particularly caring that it’ll come off as weird.
My name’s .. Eric, pleased to be thrown across the globe and have met you, kid.
[He narrows his eyes at him.]
Yes she does. And you don't have to be sarcastic at me.
You’re what, thirteen? You’re old enough to govern when you go home for dinner, I’d say. Though she doesn’t, that is, need you home for dinner.
He is. a bit shit at acting. Shrugging, he opens a pack of cigarettes.
D’you mind if I smoke?
Do what you want. How do you know she doesn't? She could.
He lights the cigarette, almost instinctively offering one to Gerard 2.0, before remembering that they are still barely a teen.
I know her, distantly. Reminds me of my mum, if I am to be honest. She doesn’t need you home.
[His expression hardens. Mum's friends are almost always monsters, and they're never a good thing.]
What do you want from me
Oh, no. Nothing. I didn’t even know of you, before I was .. hurtled at terminal velocity .. Is that the term? across England.
He takes a drag of the cigarette, a bit unsure of why he’s stuck around so long
Terminal means death and you aren't dead, so it's probably not.
.....
[Okay. The monster (probably a monster) didn't know about him, and therefore probably wasn't out to get him. Getting around at top speeds was a Vast thing, but this man didn't smell of ozone. Eye if anything, with all the tattoos.]
How do you know mum?
God I forgot how insufferable I was..
I know your mum through work.
He pauses for a second, trying to think of something to say to make himself more trustworthy.
I don’t like her, don’t get your knickers in a twist about that.
Fine.
[A monster not liking his mum wasn't necessarily a good thing. It meant maybe they had it out for her and by extension wouldn't mind hurting him too. But he seemed to say it like it was a good thing, which was unusual. So...]
....sorry about the getting thrown thing.
Yeeah. Probably not your fault, though.
He snubs out the cigarette on his heavy leather coat, tossing the butt to the ground.
So, what’re you doing in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Morden? at.. 19:30?
Going to get food. What's it to you?
Nothing, never mind. It is Morden, yeah?
Yeah, we're in Morden. You ask a lot of questions for someone with Eye tattoos. Dangerous.
So you do know about them, right. I’m not claimed by The Eye, don’t worry.
He sounds mildly unconcerned about this, lighting another cigarette.
If you say so.
[He didn't sound like he believed him.]
Why are you still talking to me if you don't want something from me?
I’m.. reorienting myself after being flung from Chelsea to Morden without any real reason, apparently?
He shrugs, not sure if he should mention that ‘oh hey yeah I’m actually you. but. ten years in the future.’