#i now return to my goblin cave thank u

[chinchillinator]

@olivepdf made a gorgeous little bingo card for joe and nicky bc we lost the sun/moon bracket this fandom needed some good mobilizing in these trying times (no new set photos or announcements) so i sat myself down n made a little thing for it.

for ‘meant to find each other’

“Why do you always come back to me?”

Joe hasn’t even looked from scrubbing at a spot on his counter, but he senses Nicky freeze. He adds hastily, “Not that I mind. Just, I’m sure Andy or Nile would love to see you. Booker maybe not so much, you did traumatize him that one time.”

“Well he shouldn’t have fought me,” Nicky says. Joe smiles.

Something heavy gets set gently on the floor and a chair at the kitchen table scrapes over the tile. Nicky always lets out a quiet, involuntary sigh when he sits, as if he hasn’t been able to for a very long time. Joe wonders if he knows that about himself.

“You’re easier to find, for one,” Nicky finally answers, once Joe’s nearly forgotten his initial question, content to enjoy Nicky’s silent presence. Joe gives up on cleaning away what must just be a discoloration of his countertop and turns to look at his guest.

Nicky always goes transparent in the moonlight. The beams from the window are cut up by Joe’s curtains and one side of Nicky’s face and his entire right arm is nearly invisible. The rest of him is solid enough that Joe wants to reach out and touch him. Which he knows better than to do.

“Well that’s a little disheartening,” he says, tamping down his worst, most self-destructive impulse. Nicky smiles.

“Yes, you really should get better at hiding from the non-human entities that visit you from beyond the veil,” he says. Joe laughs. Nicky leans toward him ever so slightly, unnoticeable except for the way his face has suddenly lost just a little more definition.

“I’ll work on that,” Joe says.

“Not that you would be able to hide from me,” Nicky says, in a tone that Joe thinks might be trying toward smug, though it doesn’t quite reach.

“That’s what you th—” Joe barely starts before Nicky cuts in.

“You’re like a beacon. Like the sun, if I’m imagining it correctly, brighter and warmer the closer I get.” Joe braces both hands on the counter behind him just to keep from reaching for Nicky. Nicky turns his head a little, cutting off that much more of himself.

“You’re imagining it correctly,” Joe says after a minute. His voice has gone soft without conscious thought and he clears his throat a little. “Is that true of all the souls that come back?”

Nicky looks at him again and cocks his head to the side, bringing more of his face back into the shadows for Joe to see it. There’s genuine confusion in his expression, likely because he did technically answer this question already, but also something fond and amused and affectionate.

“Funnily enough, I haven’t really got much data on that front,” he says. Joe scoffs and turns away to pick up the counter sponge and rinse it properly, hiding his smile at Nicky’s tease. “Most of the souls I touch tend to, you know, stay dead. Otherwise I’d be really bad at my job.” Joe shakes his head.

“Ha ha,” he says, deadpan. He’s still smiling. “So why do you think I get the special reaper-summoning powers?”

“I don’t know,” Nicky says. His voice ticks up half a pitch. Joe’s heart ticks up half a beat. He puts the sponge away and turns back.

Nicky’s hiding in the moonlight and Joe wants to drag his chair back from the table so he can see his face. Whatever expression he has that’s making him hide. How many more centuries will he live wishing to reach for the thing that could kill him.

“Nicky.”

He sees the shape of Nicky’s head turn, though, moments before the name passes his lips. The one hand he can see tightens into a fist on Nicky’s thigh. Joe wants to tell him not to go. Badly.

“I have to—” Nicky starts.

“What’s the other thing?” Joe interrupts, taking a step toward him

“The other?” Nicky asks, staying in his seat though the edges of his form are starting to blur.

“You said ‘for one,’” Joe says desperately. “What's the other thing?”

Nicky bends down to lift his scythe and for a moment his entire body is visible. For a moment, Joe can see the resigned sadness on Nicky’s face.

“Stay out of trouble, Joe,” he says. Like he does every time. Since the first, last, only time he whispered, I cannot keep coming for your soul.

It’s always the last thing he says, always the last word because he’s just a bastard like that, and he’s gone before he’s even finished standing. Joe stares at the empty chair, blinking through sudden tears, imagining that he can still see the faint outline of Nicky’s moonlit form.

There’s never enough time. For two immortal beings, they never have enough time. Joe wonders what’s worse. Seeing the wretched look on Nicky’s face when he has to collect Joe’s soul for however long his death lasts. Or feeling the wretched pull of his own heart every time he has to watch Nicky disappear.

Walking over to push the chair back into its place at the table, Joe takes a steadying breath and consoles himself the same way he always does. Always has for centuries. Nicky will be back. At the very least, Nicky will be back.

After all, Joe's very easy to find.

#sun and moon bingo #battle buddies #is that your sword or are you just happy to see me? #sometimes i write stuff #please dont say anything if u see a typo i pretend i do not see it #i now return to my goblin cave thank u

[oftripps]

“ –– wow. ”  it’s not so much a critique as it is a g-rated expletive. tripp forces a smile mid-chew and blinks. “ my tastebuds are screaming. gah–– uh, singing. singing. ”  he avoids swallowing and as ring-decorated fingers snag a napkin, wide eyes drifting to the tabletop as a small jingle breezes past tensed lips. “ ~ allergic to mushrooms ~ ”

or, alternatively: this is somethin’ new! the caspar slide pt. 2 !! & this time, it’s ‘bout to get funky !!  so i’m linc and this is tripp and he’s........ a trip, honestly, so let’s just... yeet on into this ––

( joe keery + 22 + muse 12 ) isn’t that phillip joel “tripp” goodman over there? i heard he joined faction: one after they got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause they were only on the service trip because HIS BANDMATES DUPED HIM INTO THINKING THE SIGN-UP WAS FOR A WOODS-THEMED OPEN MIC GIG. hopefully they fit in there – they’re JAUNTY but also OUTRÉ. oh, i’m sure they’ll be fine.

out the door !  ( tripp goodman: a roadmap )

look up townie family in the dictionary and you’ll find a portrait of the goodmans directly beside. these folks have a looooong flippin’ legacy here in lil’ ole west ham, kansas. it all started with montgomery goodman, a good man, who helped west ham’s founders break ground on this midwestern charmer several centuries ago. and now, the goodmans still live on the same property –– a refurbished farmhouse ( now closer to mcmansion ) surrounded by five acres of roooooollin’ hills. once upon a time, they were farming folk. now, theresa and joel goodman run the town’s one and only veterinary clinic. 

honestly, growing up? tripp was a problematic kid. he’d take in frogs from the woods and start his own frog hotels. he’d sneak pets from the clinic to school who “ needed help learning their numbers ”. in class, he’d flick sunflower seeds at the backs of his peers’ heads and, when threatened with discipline, claim he simply “ wanted to see if they’d grow  ” .  so no, to answer your question–– tripp never really saw the real wrath warranted by his rulebreaking.

in fourth grade, he chose the saxophone as his required instrument. he caused such a commotion in his house, that his parents asked his teachers to suggest something quieter. the viola. the flute. the clarinet. the piano. instruments came and went,;instruments were quickly mastered and abandoned. because dear lord, how many times could they listen to the spongebob theme song played on woodwind ?!  on strings ?!  once middle school rolled around, little phillip joel knew his way around a whopping total of six instruments, a tally that would only grow in the coming years. eventually, his parents caved and allowed him to keep playing, so long as he respected instrument curfews. they gave song requests to avoid hearing the same pieces on repeat: the goodman household was probably the only one blessed with an oboe-and-beatbox rendition of under the sea. young phillip joel’s take on the issue was simple: not all heroes wore capes.

( tw: domestic unrest, mentions of violence ) theresa and joel split when tripp was 9. just seven months later, tripp’s mother moved in with her girlfriend: tripp’s guitar teacher, ms. lillith. tripp didn’t mind ms. lillith. she was chill. he came to find out she could knock back a chocolate milk almost as fast as he could, and she liked her grilled cheeses with swiss only. his best friend became a thirty-six year old woman who happened to be his mother’s girlfriend. and that was fine. he could dig it. but joel goodman? oh no. his family name was tarnished. the scandal was too much to bear. joel sued for full custody and nearly made it, thanks to hometown politics and loyalties. but then he made one fatal mistake: he crossed his own son.

at 10 years old, fifth grade phillip joel returned home to his father’s after school with three fingernails painted effervescent blue. sidney frasier made me so cool, he gushed as he put his colored nails on proud display. dad, aren’t i so cool?  the next day, his dad enrolled him in the town’s peewee football program. he returned home from his first practice with a black eye and a split lip. from a ball, the coach insisted. hit the poor fella square in the face, real strong. phillip joel put up a fight against football; it wasn’t for him. it conflicted with music practice. couldn’t he just play music with ms. lillith instead?

the custody battle persisted. they settled on a parenting schedule. joel contested, consistently, months later. and so the cycle persisted up until phillip joel’s 12th year, when he was knocked out cold on the football field. the broken ribs came from hefty tackles. bruises from the fall. concussion from the impact. but theresa spun it to her advantage: joel had since started coaching the middle school team. this was an instance of parental neglect. and, when the courts didn’t comply, she instructed her son to jump down the stairs. one broken ankle later, and joel goodman was accused of child abuse. his word against his injured son’s. the maneuver won theresa full custody. phillip joel has yet to forgive himself.

after the custody battle’s conclusion, joel stayed in town: but phillip joel didn’t want a thing to do with sharing his name. his mother still scolds him as phillip joel, but to everyone else, he became tripp –– inspired by his knack for, you guessed it!, tumbling over his own two feet.

in high school, tripp was the class clown. always smirking, always grinning, always ready to catch someone off guard. he became a pivotal part of west ham high’s jazz band, and even formed a small group with a few buds: face. they played some school events: homecoming, pep rallies, prom. garage-baked young rock, their songs often preached meetings under bleachers and high school never ending. 

in senior year, the band saw a reboot: and after assuming a more indie, spacey sound and a nifty new name –– 1757. –– they saw a rise in local celebrity. coffee shops commissioned them for jam nights. they played on the local radio. so they collectively decided to stick around and see how far they could ride this west ham fame train. with tripp as their frontman, they always leave a memorable impression: he’s not exactly the most run-of-the-mill performer.

1757.’s sound is reminiscent of LANY: i’ve reblogged a few tunes onto tripp’s blog for reference. he’s v much a paul klein / matty healy vibe. big into music. big into losing himself in it.

so what was he up to before the service trip? playin’ tunes. working part-time as a waiter. and brainstorming ways to get out of going on this trip, as soon as he realized his stupid bandmates lied about the form he signed. an open mic in the woods ! pah !  he should have known. but the concept sounded pretty flippin’ cool.

wear our shades on our nose, 'cause we're cool like that ( tripp goodman: the man, the myth, the ledge )

oh god, he’s  w e i r d .  he believes in goblins and ghosts and aliens ( oh my )!

still VERY VERY close with his mother. v broken up about not being able to get through to her, because it was about to be his parents’ wedding anniversary and they were going to anti-celebrate it with big slices of oreo cheesecake and setting things on fire.

how he feels about coming home to west ham: post apocalyptic version.

uhhhh... can he please get a waffle? specifically a cinnamon raisin waffle with extra cinnamon and a shit ton of syrup? actually. syrup with a side of waffles?

why he was banned from his personal twitter.

“ do you even lift, bruv? ”  * proceeds to pick up a teacup & lift his pinkie like a true knock-off british monarch, shitty accent included *

listens to wham! and glam rock. unironically.bluetooth speaker mounted on his bike. no helmet! like an absolute boss. he knows!! wild!! shades on. it’s 2am. it’s dark. but true swag obeys no clock.

catch him biking everywhere stranger things style, actually. his bike’s name is milo because he can roll on for miles. mess with milo and he’ll fuck u up. aka find out if you’re lactose intolerant and slip heavy cream into your meal.

has a strong vendetta against blue doritos. which might take root in some horrific experiences involving cheez wiz, cool ranch, weed, and the new york subway system at 4am on a tuesday. spring break freshman year of college. oof.

he has a lil drawwwwl. tease him about it. he’ll probably blush.

stress-hums chili’s babyback ribs without realizing. catch him singin’ that about to be murdered.

weapon of choice: kindness.

actual weapon of choice: baseball bat.

he will write little jingles to keep morale up. “ so we’re trapped / cash us inside / how bou’ dat ? ”

has a passion for introspective literary quotes. but... has somehow managed to learn each and every one wrong.

friggin’ loves superheroes even though he can’t be bothered to watch the films? he just… always used to get made fun of for liking comic books even though he never read them? “ arachnid man is uh...  heh. he’s pretty dope, huh? ” he embraces the falsehood. someone call him on it.

9/10 times if he’s in the gym, it’s just to eat his donut and watch pay-per-view movies on the bike for free.

apple pie can absolutely be breakfast if you try hard enough. jeez. get with the times, man!

he had a legitimate pet rock before going on this service trip. but has no idea where that bugger’s gone. probably got fed up with tripp serenading him with “ we will rock you ” at all hours of the night.

lawful good. will wave other drivers on forever.

got into an accident on his bike once. bitch broke his arm and he just kept on smiling.  “ no you have a nice day! and uh.... hey. mind if we like... call an ambulance? ”

low key feels like he’s the reason his parents’ marriage crumbled. low key guilty about it. low key wonders if maybe he lived up to his father’s expectations, he might have saved them a lot of grief.

give benny goodman by saint motel a listen and tell me that’s not his soul in audio form.

known for slightly hyperbolic storytelling.

pansexual as heck. falls in love. hard. it’s a mess. he can’t hide it. hence the shades.

he has brilliant hair. and it’s immortalized in his high school yearbook.

is hellbent on being a source of positivity in this terrible situation. can he interest you in a meme in these trying times? how ‘bout a granola bar? maybe a good ole game of mash?

he’s convinced this is an elaborate prank. or a social experiment. maybe aliens. but let’s not question it too much, let’s just.... have a good time? hakuna matata? no worries? lol where the twizzlers at?!

leaves a voicemail for his mother every morning and every night. maybe he cries. maybe.

he has one ear pierced because like.......... senior year of high school, he wanted to feel more cool.

allergic to mushrooms, shellfish, eggs, and harbingers of doom.

he truly boggles minds. just.... v out there? v spacey. he closes his eyes and drifts about on stage, fingers dancing on the keys, body moving in eclectic ways. he says “groovy” and fuckin’ means it. he dresses in prints inspired by grandma’s carpet. lots of half-buttoned flowy shirts, boots, tailored statement pants, dangly necklaces. he’s got his hands full of rings –– they symbolize milestones. and some are just, like... pretty. and one’s his mother’s old wedding band.

where the hell are my friends !  ( wanted connectz. )

i was gonna do a whole section on this and got lazy but like.... anything. all the things. good, bad, ugly, beautiful. hurt him. make him suffer. but also support him a bit.

i imagine he’s got a solid squad goin’. he’s in faction one too, so... hmu for those.

i feel like he’d be pretty chill with the greeks? yeah bro, he parties. he’ll chill. he’ll crack open a cold one and pretend to understand what those letters on your jacket mean! pie-apple-fate-uh? cool stuff !

ride or dies. pls.

he needs someone to like....... melt his heart. maybe someone unexpected.

thisssss got long & disorganized but yes! let’s plot! let’s do this thang! #hype!!

#apogeeintro #✰ mother trucker dude; that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick ! isms. #if u cannot tell...... he is a gay ass MEME

[49scribes-a]

Starters From Shit Said In Gaming Streams:

Some NSFW and potentially triggering content

“Yeah sometimes those big zombies just don't take the hint and then half their bodies come after me.”

“Stop throwing up zombies. Its unsanitary.”

“Thigh highs fit for any _____.”

“BARREL ROLL.”

“Stop keeping quotes about the shit I say when I'm _________.”

“OH, RAPID FIRE. RAPID FIRE. LOOK AT THAT.”

“...whatever the fuck that shit is.”

*sarcastically* “Oh nooo... an ambush. Like, whatever will I do.”

“Y'know I would've fallen from whatever height that was and I would've gotten up.”

“OYNO. Where is it? KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT.”

“Ew it popped.”

“____lord disapproves.”

“Rocking that [name]licious scarf.”

“SHIT ITS BOY/GIRLFRIEND IS COMING.”

“Oh, shit, that's a lot.”

“Of course half of them had to live.”

“Oh did you die finally? Thanks for the money! Even if you only had ___.”

“You made people suffer enough when you were alive. Can't you, y'know, give it a rest?”

“I'm little red riding hood~”

" 'Just got [name]'d'. WOW. You really gonna go there?”

“Already went there.”

“Okay I'm bored. I'm gonna leave it. I'm gonna leave it alone.”

“Op she's vomitting zombies.”

“Deeeeaaaaaath.”

“[name]licious used Swift! Its super effective!”

“Please stop.”

“Whoa that star kinda freaked out.”

“Pop goes the zombubble.”

“Y'know whenever people say [ran him through with a sword] I think of someone like literally running and PLUNGING their sword through someone.”

“If ur sword-running game ain't as strong as Season 2 Suzaku's y'ain't doin it right.”

“We don't talk about that ending. That still hurts me.”

“OF COURSE WE DO. You know what we REALLY don't talk about?"

“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT _____.”

“The goat people!!! And the trees...”

“We've got demonic goat people, I think some frogs... yep, definitely a frog.”

“This house is on fire but it wasn't me.”

“Ooooo legendary shoulders.”

“Oh great, they explode.”

“Biiiirb. Birb birb birb birb. Caw caw motherclucker. BIIIIIRB.”

“I'm going to name this bird ______, and it will be the best ______.”

“Did you just name that ____ after [name]?”

“[name]licious and [name]. Nice(tm).”

“You could've lived if you just stayed still like a good tree.”

“Swift Game Intensifies.”

“Cat Fight!”

“Long time no dick shot.”

"[NAME] YOU ARE BANNED.”

“Holy shit that was a trip.”

“The sweet sound of projectile evisceration.”

“Anybody alive on this side? Okay good I don't need that kind of drama in my life.”

“I COULDN'T STOP PUNCHING HIM.”

“Story of my life.”

“I love how you got literally blown away.”

“Fuck your _____-- SHIT, FUCK--”

“We forgot to start a swear count.”

“Explode, explode, explode-- yyeeaaaaa.”

“I HATE LIFE WHAT IS THAT HOW DID I MISS”

“RIPPERONI SWISS CHEESE”

“Don't you give me your patronizing pats I don't need them.”

“See if I ever give you sympathy pats again.”

“I'm still keeping quotes just fyi.”

“Fucking gasp.”

“BLOWUP BLOWUP BLOWUP BLOWUP.”

“STOP TAKING QUOTES, [NAME] oh my god--”

“I need to take that guy over there with that freaking shotgun Hell nya.”

“YOINK.”

“Eeeeew he ragdolled...”

“Uuuh what did you guys see-- actually nope no I take it back I don't wanna know I don't wanna know what you guys saw.”

“2 much swear 4 utube.”

“I... read that as [do you know how many brain dead dick heads I've hung in my life] and I was like... since when did you kill people?”

“If I killed people you would know because I wouldn't be able to keep my disgusting disection pictures to my fucking self.”

"[CHECK OUT THIS ORGAN LOOK HOW WEIRD IT IS].”

“I was going to laugh if you pole-vaulted to your doom.”

“Well, no, you can swing across. Me? I'm gonna get fUCKED.”

“HIS LEG WORK.”

“I'M IN ATUAL TEARS.”

“I'm like... expecting something to blow up at this poi-- aaand there it is.”

“I don't know what you're reaching for cuz God ain't gonna help you.”

“Wouldn't it be funny if he hit the window and he just... didn't go through it. Just hit the window with a loud THUNK like a bird hitting glass.”

“That rocket launcher is gonna become my best friend.”

“YOU STILL FUCKING SURVIVED THAT SHIT? YOU TOOK IT TO THE /FACE/.”

“Fuck off, I don't want what you're selling-- I DON'T WANT WHAT YOU'RE SELLING.”

“Fuck your turret gun.”

“Fuck it.”

“YEAA-- NOOOOO.”

“How did that not just shove his nose into his skull?”

“I wouldn't have gotten back up, I would've been down. I would've probably been knocked out or... winded... and crying.”

“Yea fuck you _______ I don't like you either.”

“Her name is _____ lady and _____ lady it shall stay.”

“I can't wait to-- Oh look another fucking _______.”

“MAN, HE TWIRLLLED.”

“When I die, I want to ragdoll.”

“Why ragdoll like an Uncharted NPC when you can ragdoll like a Skyrim character leaping off the top of the Throat of the World on the back of a horse.”

“The music is so nice when you don't pay attention to the destruction around you.”

“I want to glitch through the ground, stretching for miles across the land while twitching enough to unnerve the most bad ass fucker before flipping off into space like a goddamn hyper speed rubber band.”

“You want the weirdest things...”

“But they are simple things.”

“How is her makeup still straight. Eye liner still on point.”

“HEY LOOK ITS YOU-- I'm just kidding.”

“You hurt my feelings, that IS totally me.”

“Worship me and my big blue ball.”

“Oh that werewolf fucker. Fucking closet furry.”

“Manicure my _____ nails.”

“I know, I have to fix your ass because all your shit is where its not supposed to be.”

“WELL ITS NOT FUN IF I MAKE IT EASY.”

“DO U THINK I WANT PEOPLE IN HERE TOUCHING ALL MY SECRET SHIT.”

“I GOT PORN MAGS IN HERE.”

“You know I just kinda realized how weird of a pose that is.”

“Tbh -- its taking a huge shit.”

“For some reason I forgot the water drains and thought the statue's loin cloth lifts to reveal a doorway between its legs.”

“God damn it, tired of your bullshit. Have to keep fixing your stuff. Keep fixing your ______...”

“This isn't a dagger. Its a _____. But I'd still stab someone with it.”

*Opens my chastity belt.*

“You know its actually kinda romantic down here---no its not.”

“I transcended the ban like a boss.”

“YOU'RE STILL BANNED, [NAME].”

“GET VORED BY THE STATUE.”

“WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS.”

“I really hope I get that job so I can buy that shirt that says [_______] I've been wanting.”

“No, the part with the ice caves, before you meet Furry McFuckgoat.”

“While that is a very metal fucking way to die -- it also seems extremely uncomfortable.”

“I was surprised there wasn't anything supernatural... or weird. I mean besides the exploding mummies.”

“WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THOSE GOLEM POSERS.”

“What a dick! Making me throw that grenade without meaning to!”

“You know I just shot him... a clip full... in the dick. I didn't mean to but... it happened.” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Have a grenade.”

“Yeah you're not allowed up here. You have a ______. We don't serve your kind here.”

“New user -- who dis”

“I might regret this decision later.”

“[Name], please, stop playing peek-a-boo.”

“That dead guy just... waves goodbye as he ragdolls.”

“I HAVE REGRETS.”

“You know what, just as well. I have regrets. I didn't mean to throw that grenade.”

“PANICKING. PANICKING.”

“THINK YOU'RE FUCKING FANCY WITH YOUR ROLLING?”

“Okay that guy was defying gravity for a while there, that was kinda weird.”

“YOU'RE NOT FANCY-- Oh my god he twirled.”

“I FOUND WHAT I WANT.” *runs*

“REGRETS. Aaaah, regrets. A lot of regrets.”

“That death twitch... as seen on Twitch TV.”

“Little man, compensating much.”

“Right in the Shnoz.”

“ZIG ZAG, ZIG ZAG.”

“I DON'T THINK ZIG ZAG WORKS WITH MILITARY RPGS.”

“Make-up still on point. Hair still flawless.”

“LAMINATE YOUR FUCKING MAP. ITS RAINING. IS THAT MAP EVEN RELIABLE AT THIS POINT.”

“Where would you laminate a map in ______? What do you think there's a Kinkos around the corner?

“GOD IDK, BUT PUT IT IN SOMETHING MORE WATERPROOF THAN YOUR ASS POCKET.”

“Oh man that is the best twirl I have ever seen.”

“Fab. He practiced.”

“I just had to process Impressed because I heard it as Imp Breasts.”

“Drama queen. Fucking clutching his chest to die. Just ragdoll like everyone else.”

“Hey, what has more brains than the gunmen right now? The wall behind them.”

"[that didn't attract too much attention] YOU RAN A TRAIN THROUGH A BUILDING.”

“I am just a soggy man.”

“I have water logged fingers.”

“Yeah. YEAH. I forgot about these actually. Ah... ha ha... I forgot about these...” *cries*

“Her tits are always bigger from the side. The fuck is with that. They never the same size either. Watch. Watch them titties grow.”

“All Aboard the Pain Train.”

“Push your ass off the train-- BYE.”

“REALLY. YOU-- who has the strength of a shit ton of fucking monkeys... can't kick that through?”

“My heart just did A Thing at being called [they].”

“I never actually see the scenery on this train because I'm always dying.”

“BANE OF MY EXISTENCE RIGHT HERE. Guess my streak of Not Dying is gonna end right here.”

“AAH I ALMOST DIED-- I almost died there too.”

“SPLAT.”

“Railroaded.”

“Oh, I'm gonna have to fight a big guy. I really-- please don't make me fight a big guy.”

“Damn he thicc.”

“Here, its a present~” *throws a grenade*

“I think they want a receipt for their present so they can return it.”

“Bye-- I think that was a dick shot.”

“I love the sound of glass breaking.”

“I missed...” *tsk* “That's a problem.”

“Hey. For stress relief, fling yourself. Right there. To the left.”

“LAAAAAAAAUNCH.”

“Just fucking launch into oblivion for stress relief.”

“I just ate someone else’s half eaten burger like the trash goblin I am.”

“I am both mildly disgusted with myself and yet satisfied because it was a good burger.”

“Oblivion is to the left. Just launch into it. Embrace it. Fly like the majestic fucking eagle you are.”

*singing* “Life... hates me. I hate life.”

“Did he just die crab walking.”

“Died doing what he loved. Being a crab. Snip snap.”

“Am I the only one here who sees perfect opportunities to fling myself off a cliff and actually does it?”

*whimpers* “WELLIguessitwasallfornothingbecausenowIhavetodiebecausethisasshole--”

“That's the sound of when you get your ass shredded.”

“Good lord--”

“Shredded Wheat [name]s.”

“I hope if I ever die by gun, its to one of those. I wanna look and feel like swiss cheese.”

“You gonna one-punch fuck me like jason borne?”

“ONE PAAAUUUUUUUUNCH.”

“FUCK I got stuck in the wall...”

“HOW THICK THAT DUDES ARMS ARE.”

“STAY AWAY FROM ME I was trying to get away from you.”

“That cat is looking at me like [Why are you yelling so much?]”

“Man you eat more bullets than dogs in Resident Evil.”

“Fuck my life, Terminator.”

“That's not his liver...”

“That's totally his liver.”

“Well that's what you get for not paying for your train ticket.”

“Train stops here.”

“Guess they got... sidetracked.”

“You could say he's got a one-track mind.”

“You could say its been derailed.”

“I don't think this is the best train of thought for this situation.”

"I think I can, I think I can...”

“YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, SNEAKING UP ON ME LIKE THAT.”

“I hope I took them out wiTH MY DEATH.”

“Fucking gave him a sliding icy nut shot.”

“Packed some powder onto those donut holes.”

“I didn't say I was coming naked to this place.”

“Just barrel roll over a fucking corpse it coo'l.”

“Where do these fuckers get grenades at like... they need to shove their grenades up their ass.”

“I don't know what the fuck you think you saw but it wasn't me.”

*Hands you voreos*

“Get out of here with your voreos.”

#RP Prompt #crack #*jazz hands* #lookit me #makin' my own RP prompts