::: 𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕊𝔼𝕊 :::
𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #(v1) this is aerobics; it’s serious [ pre/post-canon ] [ 80s ] [ no-redwood-verse]
𝚂𝙷𝙴’𝚂 𝙶𝙾𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚃 & 𝚂𝙷𝙴’𝚂 𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝚂𝚃.
Ever since 1982, while thumbing through a Rolling Stones magazine-- Montana has been utterly obsessed. Hours that used to be spent lazing around and counting calories transformed into nights & days at the studio. First classes, then some coke, later workshops, and some more coke: eventually she’d proven precisely how bitchin’ she is and took over teaching courses of her own.
Her insatiable need for speed was finally on it’s way to being quenched: between sex, drugs, aerobics, and that damned good dose of rock n’ roll-- she’s doing fine…
& maybe it would just possibly manage to quell the danger that resided inside of her.
𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 #(v2) ghouls just wanna have fun [ post-canon ] [ paranormal / horror rp ]
‘ 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳 𝙽𝙾 𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 ‘𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙰𝙻 ‘
After her dope death at the hands of the now-notorious Brooke Thompson, Montana has found herself LOCKED in the same campground she’d bit the dust in-- bummer: but at least she’s not alone. With only hella time on her hands, she gets her kicks by harassing the other sorry spirits of the woods // totally toying with unsuspecting visitors // perpetually practicing her bitchin’ aerobics // and putting some’a the laughter in slaughter... Getting her hands on her victims’ radical left-behind goodies is just the cherry on top.
𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐑 #(v3) karmically; we’re cool [ 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ]
𝟒𝐓𝐇 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑 #(v4) she’s the eye of the tiger [ survivor au ] [ horror / crime verses ]
𝙸𝚃’𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚈.
Montana’s not exactly the media darling the movies promised ; after somehow surviving the Horror Story that was Camp Redwood-- she’d tried to go back to a peaceful existence, punching the air and stamping steps until she broke through a few platforms. It wasn’t enough. They all kept asking questions, and as willing as she was to spew the supposed truth she’d concocted: it weighed heavy. The monster she’d let loose, encouraged ; the missteps that led to the unfortunate end of those she cared about. It doesn’t matter now, though, that those urges had been realized, that the fucking fools watching her on TV actually believed her.
She’ll persist. She’ll resist. She will conquer… no matter what that involves, entails, or steals from her-- and everyone in her way can bite the dust.
