Yet
The Worst Guy
Usually, you had to pay people to give a solid fuck about what they were doing, where they were going, and to talk about themselves in general...but not Pathos. No, Pathos was born with a privilege to be worthless enough to his family and friends, and valuable enough to every acquaintance he had the misfortune of meeting. There he was, minding his own business on a subway when some bald-headed loser just couldn't get enough of how his tan skin glistened with sweat in the moonlight. One leg over the other, he was writing a few words, really taking his time to carefully place them since he had a pen, when the eye rapist made his move or shot his shot or whatever, saying:
"ey kid,"
"Not interested. Take that bullshit somewhere else." The late teen said, closing his book over his pen and looking at the turd.
"Come on, I was just watchin' the fight," He assured, " Just take it easy out there. You're not as ah...you know, bulky as these guys. You shouldn't be waitin' till they run outta energy an' ain't you a little too young to be...doin' this typea shit?"
That cliche was so overdone, to the point he was mouthing exactly what the guy was saying as he was saying it. "Doesn't matter. I need money. You gotta do what you gotta do, ite?" He stood on the clanky tram, still locked on, his eyes flickering from hazel to black through the shadows.
"Pfft, You're gonna die like that and ah...then what's ya fucked up dad gonna do?" Oh
So, that's what this was about
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" Jay?" Why was that the first thought when blacking out? He woke up, standing up, standing in a group of people standing up along with him standing up. These were strange people to most, but to him...yeah they were still pretty weird and there was a dog somewhere in here. This being, the person behind the Ted Talk powerful enough to resurrect, was moving way too fast. In fact, everything around him was moving way too fast, so he did what he always did when his brain couldn't keep up.
He left.
A dragon, a guy with cybernetic bullshit, a knight with muscle bullshit, a birdman that wasn't rubbing his hands together? Yeah, it was time for him to go find his horizons or whatever that saying was...find a good novel to avoid all...this inside. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. No cigarettes, no paper, only a black stone wrapped in shiny ornate metals. A film of gold. How pretty, but out of place. This thing was beyond him in highschool, let alone in an entirely different world, so much like the informant and other victims around him...nothing worked here. Maybe throwing hands with a few "bad" guys he didn't understand would wake him out of his coma. Maybe if he found a nice girl, got married, and started a family in a lovely house with a pickett fence everything would come together.
He sneezed.
"Do I even want to go back?" He said aloud, as he wandered out of the cathedral. Hands in his pockets, head high, and...trying not to think too hard about his absence of direction.
"ey kid,"
"Not interested. Take that bullshit somewhere else." The late teen said, closing his book over his pen and looking at the turd.
"Come on, I was just watchin' the fight," He assured, " Just take it easy out there. You're not as ah...you know, bulky as these guys. You shouldn't be waitin' till they run outta energy an' ain't you a little too young to be...doin' this typea shit?"
That cliche was so overdone, to the point he was mouthing exactly what the guy was saying as he was saying it. "Doesn't matter. I need money. You gotta do what you gotta do, ite?" He stood on the clanky tram, still locked on, his eyes flickering from hazel to black through the shadows.
"Pfft, You're gonna die like that and ah...then what's ya fucked up dad gonna do?" Oh
So, that's what this was about
-----------------------------------------------------
" Jay?" Why was that the first thought when blacking out? He woke up, standing up, standing in a group of people standing up along with him standing up. These were strange people to most, but to him...yeah they were still pretty weird and there was a dog somewhere in here. This being, the person behind the Ted Talk powerful enough to resurrect, was moving way too fast. In fact, everything around him was moving way too fast, so he did what he always did when his brain couldn't keep up.
He left.
A dragon, a guy with cybernetic bullshit, a knight with muscle bullshit, a birdman that wasn't rubbing his hands together? Yeah, it was time for him to go find his horizons or whatever that saying was...find a good novel to avoid all...this inside. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. No cigarettes, no paper, only a black stone wrapped in shiny ornate metals. A film of gold. How pretty, but out of place. This thing was beyond him in highschool, let alone in an entirely different world, so much like the informant and other victims around him...nothing worked here. Maybe throwing hands with a few "bad" guys he didn't understand would wake him out of his coma. Maybe if he found a nice girl, got married, and started a family in a lovely house with a pickett fence everything would come together.
He sneezed.
"Do I even want to go back?" He said aloud, as he wandered out of the cathedral. Hands in his pockets, head high, and...trying not to think too hard about his absence of direction.
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