Nov 7, 2018
@deathwent perish.
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@deathwent perish.
@ojomuerto replied: (x)
the animators and jeff are COWARDS that's why!! its a SIN that they havent portrayed jesse with more hair!!
hello naughty children its time to spread body hair discourse
@deathwent replied: (x)
gabe keeps up a regular waxing regimen its canon
honestly? we been knew. gabe reyes maintained a balbo beard and an undercut. that’s twice the grooming commitment. he is a groomer. and given the advances in laser hair removal and the surgeries/experiments done on him, the hairlessness was probably a necessity, too he’s SMOOTH AS EGGS
@deathwent || sc.
“We’ll only get one shot at this. Are you certain we’re ready?”
“ people often assume too much ---- it’s painful, really. ”
@deathwent ; starter call
@deathwent
muscles burn even in his sleep, causing jack to twist his head to the side, a pained groan escaping him. restless images flash behind his eyes as he tosses. but it's the soft rustle of pages that pulls him from his sleep. opening his eyes physically hurts but he forces them with another groan.
everything hurts and he wants to die. he's never felt pain like this, his whole body rebelling against the mystery liquid in his veins. a cramp seizes his whole body and he gasps.
oh-- the sound. he forces his head to the other side, pushes away the pain the movement brings. gabe. sitting with his back to the wall next to jack's bed, a book resting against his legs. jack smiles-- wants to smile, but even that hurts. instead, he just makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat.
!!! what kind of campaign are you running?!
AAA!! I run a D&D 5e campaign with a group of buddies of mine that’s based on the game Pyre ( because ever since I saw the game trailer, and finished it I’ve always loved the concept of the story ) and has got some other fun game references and junk thrown in cause I’m horribly unoriginal. Just this past Saturday was our second session, and with any luck I’m frantically trying to write the third!
( @deathwent )
‘LOOK, YOU WANT MY BEST WORK?’ The question is one that doesn’t require an answer -- she looks him in the eye & her mouth thins into a severe line. ‘Then I need more time & more information ... I don’t tell you how to do your job, so don’t tell me how to do mine.’
@deathwent
0347 HOURS. Thursday.
The week had been spent on HIS accordance. Early morning wake-up calls, matched with every manner of noise to veer the human conscience into pure, unfettered instinct; fear; alarm; ACTION. Four kilometer runs. One-hundred jumping jacks, push-ups, pull-ups, and so on, and SO ON.
----Five minute break. Drink. Breathe. Rinse. Repeat. Just enough to muster the strength to carry themselves to the sparring mats for the next two hours.
But today is different. Today, Quinn wakes early, past the sharp cry of torn and sore muscles. Today, she collects together the notes she’d been taking on Gabriel, STUDYING him, learning to parse the habit from his forced unpredictably. Now, she sets together red herrings, circumventing, confusing. The stuffed bed, to mimic a still-sleeping form, slumbering away. The portable speakers lining the halls, throwing off false noises (running footsteps, the scuff of heels against polished linoleum). The cup of coffee in the mess (still warm, half full), the shower set to run at 0354 hours.
Now, Quinn waits -- ON HER TERMS, not his. Perched on one of the balancing bars in the sparring room, her fingers drum against bruised knees as she stares at the only door in.
0349 hours. She wonders how long it’ll take before Reyes arrives. After all, they’re scheduled for the room at 0400 sharp. And Quinn isn’t one for late appointments.