[ It's sunny and hot. Rays beat down on his face as his eyes flutter open and he squints to try and see, but to no avail. He lifts a hand to block the sun with a frustrated groan, and that still does nothing.
—Wait.
It's a moment before it actually hits him, brain fending off the haze of his mind, and he remembers his wrist being lopped off and how hard he screamed. For some reason, he remembers something about jellyfish stings and pee. What a stupid and intrusive thought. Jerry must be responsible for that, but he blocked out (or blacked out??) all their stupid voices and before he knew it he bled on the ground and made a tourniquet out of his belt in desperation. Speaking of which, the belt buckle hung loosely in his face. He moved his arm more to cover the sunlight, staring at the stump where his hand used to be. It wasn't bleeding anymore. But it still fucking hurts. ]
I hope they all die.
[ Spencer finally sits up with a groan, notices he's missing a shoe and a sock. His shirt is covered in blood. Ah, right, right. Back to the hand thing. All related. He pushes himself up enough to sit on the edge of the fountain, breath heavy underneath the heat of the sun. His other hand shades his eyes as he scans the area.
What the fuck, honestly.
His eyes close. Deep breath. Take a deep breath. He's taking deep breaths. Don't get pissed off yet. ]
II. SOUND AND LIGHT
[ This place is weird, but so far not the weirdest. Maybe it was annoyingly ominous how the place he was staying at slowly accrued his clothes and pictures hanging on the walls. As if this place was telling him to stay awhile. Fuck you. But he did change out of his bloody shirt, at least, got shoes, fixed himself up as much as he cared to.
The projection catches his attention, not because he's interested in the story behind it. But because it's fucking weird and stands out. He definitely watches it the first time around, intently, waiting to see a glimmer of something cryptic but maybe useful. Some stupid code, or clue. Nothing that he can see. A few repeated watches later and— ]
Something's different.
[ Said mostly to himself, elbows on his knees, right hand to his chin in deep thought. ]
III. WILDCARD
[ Or just hit me with whatever you have in mind, I'm open. ]
spencer middleton ° tales from the gas station
[ It's sunny and hot. Rays beat down on his face as his eyes flutter open and he squints to try and see, but to no avail. He lifts a hand to block the sun with a frustrated groan, and that still does nothing.
—Wait.
It's a moment before it actually hits him, brain fending off the haze of his mind, and he remembers his wrist being lopped off and how hard he screamed. For some reason, he remembers something about jellyfish stings and pee. What a stupid and intrusive thought. Jerry must be responsible for that, but he blocked out (or blacked out??) all their stupid voices and before he knew it he bled on the ground and made a tourniquet out of his belt in desperation. Speaking of which, the belt buckle hung loosely in his face. He moved his arm more to cover the sunlight, staring at the stump where his hand used to be. It wasn't bleeding anymore. But it still fucking hurts. ]
I hope they all die.
[ Spencer finally sits up with a groan, notices he's missing a shoe and a sock. His shirt is covered in blood. Ah, right, right. Back to the hand thing. All related. He pushes himself up enough to sit on the edge of the fountain, breath heavy underneath the heat of the sun. His other hand shades his eyes as he scans the area.
What the fuck, honestly.
His eyes close. Deep breath. Take a deep breath. He's taking deep breaths. Don't get pissed off yet. ]
II. SOUND AND LIGHT
[ This place is weird, but so far not the weirdest. Maybe it was annoyingly ominous how the place he was staying at slowly accrued his clothes and pictures hanging on the walls. As if this place was telling him to stay awhile. Fuck you. But he did change out of his bloody shirt, at least, got shoes, fixed himself up as much as he cared to.
The projection catches his attention, not because he's interested in the story behind it. But because it's fucking weird and stands out. He definitely watches it the first time around, intently, waiting to see a glimmer of something cryptic but maybe useful. Some stupid code, or clue. Nothing that he can see. A few repeated watches later and— ]
Something's different.
[ Said mostly to himself, elbows on his knees, right hand to his chin in deep thought. ]
III. WILDCARD
[ Or just hit me with whatever you have in mind, I'm open. ]