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tfln overflow

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( toplevel )

@cervid

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( previous )

my god i don't need no god damn help with my god damn letters MORGAN

[cervid]

Come on now, Gs are tricky little sons of bitches

[imperdonado]

i wish i WAS ignorant of your comings and your goings then maybe you really would be too busy to hassle me like this

[cervid]

So you know a lot of fellers named George?

@gwynbleidd

[imperdonado]

( previous )

didn't know style came into it

so what's your style then, gettin shot where you stand?

[gwynbleidd]

[hello?!?!? YOUR ANKLE!!!!!]

Not a lot of that sort of shooting. Arrows aren't too bad. It's the crossbow bolts you have to worry about.

There's a few tricks for it. The armor helps.

[imperdonado]

[ girl its bad over here ]

never dealt with a gun, then?

[ ... and he's never dealt with armor, so now he's wondering how those storybook knights would take a bullet.

You know. Theoretically. ]

[gwynbleidd]

[begging you to not]

Never needed to. You ever held a sword?

[he can hear the "never needed to" that comes with JUST SHOOT EM]

@brokeassgoing

[imperdonado]

( previous )

what the hell you mean by that

you got two holes or something

i hope you get to feeling better soon!! sorry about your ankle..

[brokeassgoing]

everyone has





nevermind i can do 2 farts at once

my ankle is better now!

[imperdonado]

i think the only thing you know how to do is talk nonsense

@motherin

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( prev )

Then you're half-wrong.

[ John slips the cylinder back to its axle, loads his gun, and pushes the nozzle back into his holster.

This, of course, is half-wrong in and of itself. John doesn't go looking to fill himself with lead while working a job, that's true. He takes cover and tries to fight smart, when he has to fight. He masks, he sneaks when he can. Getting lost in a white void, cold and starving and surrounded by snarling and ripping jaws, was hardly anything he meant to do - and nor was anything that happened in Blackwater.

What John fails to factor in is the hungry bluster of a young man looking to prove himself. The thing that drives him toward the work. John takes the rifle into his lap and, with a brief glance, scoffs. ]

Don't go talkin' like that.

[ His voice is lowered, cautious. ]

[motherin]

[There's more to John's recklessness than stupidity and a lack of self-preservation, she knows— it's never been that simple, no matter what she might say out loud, but even if she wanted to, she's not sure she'd know how to tell him how she sees him, doesn't think she has words enough. She doesn't worry because she thinks he's not smart enough to look after himself, but because he's hungry. Always has been, long as she can remember. Hunger, figurative or otherwise, can make a person do all kinds of things, and turn a blind eye to even more.

She exhales, dropping her arms and letting her hands come to rest on either side of her hips, turning her sharp gaze towards him at last. She knows what that drop in his voice means; it ain't dismissal, it's damn near a warning.]

Ain't sayin' more than that.

[She doesn't have to. They both hear the whispers, especially when some of the others are deep in their cups.]

Just... want you to take extra care out there. You've got a boy who'll be missin' you somethin' fierce while you're out working.

[Just the boy, surely.]

[imperdonado]

[ It's one thing for John to asks his questions; only Arthur has him beat for time served, and if that weren't enough, he's got a gun and a strong back and a willingness to throw himself into jobs. That affords him some leeway - he isn't sure the same can be said for Abigail. He's too aware that, with how the pieces are falling, it would be something entirely different for Abigail to start acting defiant. She did her part, but not often or extravagantly enough to excuse that particular sin. To many of the men, he's sure that her main contribution since she's stopped working has been creating another mouth to feed.

He's already heard in passing what's being whispered to Dutch. Let the weak go. Dutch has proven admirable in his rejection of this so far. John isn't sure how much longer that would last.

John pulls the rifle's buttstock against his shoulder and lays his gaze down the sights, into the soupy bowl of mist and trees below them. He examines the sights, the feel of the metal beneath his hands. He lets the words sit in his head for a minute. ]

Listen.

[ He pulls the rifle down into his lap and soaks another swatch of fabric with blackened oil. ]

You oughta have yourself and the boy ready. [ He's murmuring now, glancing toward her as he rubs the roughness out, ] To go, I mean.

[motherin]

[A long pause hangs between them before she gives a small, firm nod in response— reserved, but not timid. Never timid; nobody had ever accused Abigail Roberts of that particular sin. Her gaze follows his; for all that's being left unsaid, it's somehow easier to say what they do without looking directly at one another, or so it seems.]

I will.

[It wouldn't take much. Not like they had much of anything to call their own to begin with, and they were always prepared for the gang to be on the move if something went sideways, but she knows that's not what John means. She's thought about it already, tucked a few things away that wouldn't be missed so that they could run in a pinch if it came down to it.

She meets that glance of his, however briefly, and if she takes a couple of steps closer to him as she pulls her shawl just a bit closer around her shoulders, then so be it.]

We oughta pick somewhere to— [To meet, in case they get separated, but speaking it into being doesn't seem wise. She exhales.] Maybe I'll take him into town.

more tfln overflow

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@foxypeepaw

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( previously )

and if your tellin me you didnt retch a little after bills big ass paws made it a little soggy ill ask you to show me how

[foxypeepaw]

That comes of two things. What they call a ‘colonial stomach,’ which allows me to eat fifty-one iguana eggs, if I wish. And the liberal application of rye.

@cervid

[imperdonado]

( previously )

now that aint fair

i aint met a feller made me mad enough to tear pieces off him yet

[cervid]

[He isn't the kind to type it but: LMAO]

I got a few scars that say different

[imperdonado]

[ hold on lemme just *regresses to childhood* ]

bitin dont count and neither do u

@netherese

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( previously )

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[ ....hes about to get indignantly angry over being corrected by this annoying little man

But ]

[imperdonado]

sounds like you ought to study up on your american history, professor