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omgcheckplease: ★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergraduate at Yale. One of the college’s traditional songs—which they strategically have students sing during their first weeks as Yalies and then again at the moment we’re conferred our degrees—goes like this:Bright College years, with pleasure rife,The shortest, gladdest years of life;How swiftly are ye gliding by!Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?Et cetera. The first time you sing it, you mumble the words and don’t know a single person around you. The last time you sing it, wearing the mortarboard and gown, you’ve got the lyrics memorized and you’re surrounded by some of the most important people in your life.That summer, with “How bright will seem, through mem’ry’s haze/ Those happy, golden, bygone days!” still ringing in my ears, I started CHECK, PLEASE. The comic’s first panels emerged on an ancient laptop, through a borrowed bamboo tablet, and on a free drawing program called gnu-IMPShop. I had no plan. I wanted to explore my newfound fascination with hockey and share silly cartoons on Tumblr. But unconsciously, I also wanted to pour the nostalgia of those bright college years into the Haus, Faber, Samwell, and Bitty’s story. I wanted to bottle up those moments where we grow and change and fall down and pick ourselves back up. Drawing CHECK, PLEASE was how I revisited those experiences and how I sifted through the bittersweet feeling of concluding something I loved. Perhaps this is why finishing CHECK, PLEASE calls back those same emotions. Just as Bitty would bake affection into a pie, I might have encoded into CHECK, PLEASE the heartfelt fondness I had for my time in college, the love of the friends I made there, and the gratitude I have for my own growth.I have always found it easier to express gratitude face to face. And even though I would not have gotten to meet all of you, the greatest downside of being unable to participate in a book tour is that I can’t say thanks in person. I could write a thousand words, yet they couldn’t replace a high five at a bookstore signing or a handshake at a convention. I could write the blog post to end all blog posts, but it’s not the same as yelling with you about an episode or chatting about a fandom we both happen be in. For me, it’s those moments that somehow equate to my abundant appreciation for you, the reader.I look forward to the day when I can let my actions speak louder than my words!In the meantime: thank you. I am incredibly blessed to get to create a story and then share it. This is all I want to do in life. These characters get to have a readership overflowing with love and enthusiasm for them. This comic, somehow, has found ambassadors. This story gets to be told. Thank you! I’m excited to share with you the unusual, fun, and hopeful narratives I’m working hard to develop.So with that, I’ll sign off on the last blog post! Thank you for reading this comic. Thank you for sharing it with friends. Thank you for caring about Bitty’s story and CHECK, PLEASE.Thank you!John J. Johnson.Just kidding, it’s Ngozi. :^) Tee hee. Bye now!: omgcheckplease: ★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergraduate at Yale. One of the college’s traditional songs—which they strategically have students sing during their first weeks as Yalies and then again at the moment we’re conferred our degrees—goes like this:Bright College years, with pleasure rife,The shortest, gladdest years of life;How swiftly are ye gliding by!Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?Et cetera. The first time you sing it, you mumble the words and don’t know a single person around you. The last time you sing it, wearing the mortarboard and gown, you’ve got the lyrics memorized and you’re surrounded by some of the most important people in your life.That summer, with “How bright will seem, through mem’ry’s haze/ Those happy, golden, bygone days!” still ringing in my ears, I started CHECK, PLEASE. The comic’s first panels emerged on an ancient laptop, through a borrowed bamboo tablet, and on a free drawing program called gnu-IMPShop. I had no plan. I wanted to explore my newfound fascination with hockey and share silly cartoons on Tumblr. But unconsciously, I also wanted to pour the nostalgia of those bright college years into the Haus, Faber, Samwell, and Bitty’s story. I wanted to bottle up those moments where we grow and change and fall down and pick ourselves back up. Drawing CHECK, PLEASE was how I revisited those experiences and how I sifted through the bittersweet feeling of concluding something I loved. Perhaps this is why finishing CHECK, PLEASE calls back those same emotions. Just as Bitty would bake affection into a pie, I might have encoded into CHECK, PLEASE the heartfelt fondness I had for my time in college, the love of the friends I made there, and the gratitude I have for my own growth.I have always found it easier to express gratitude face to face. And even though I would not have gotten to meet all of you, the greatest downside of being unable to participate in a book tour is that I can’t say thanks in person. I could write a thousand words, yet they couldn’t replace a high five at a bookstore signing or a handshake at a convention. I could write the blog post to end all blog posts, but it’s not the same as yelling with you about an episode or chatting about a fandom we both happen be in. For me, it’s those moments that somehow equate to my abundant appreciation for you, the reader.I look forward to the day when I can let my actions speak louder than my words!In the meantime: thank you. I am incredibly blessed to get to create a story and then share it. This is all I want to do in life. These characters get to have a readership overflowing with love and enthusiasm for them. This comic, somehow, has found ambassadors. This story gets to be told. Thank you! I’m excited to share with you the unusual, fun, and hopeful narratives I’m working hard to develop.So with that, I’ll sign off on the last blog post! Thank you for reading this comic. Thank you for sharing it with friends. Thank you for caring about Bitty’s story and CHECK, PLEASE.Thank you!John J. Johnson.Just kidding, it’s Ngozi. :^) Tee hee. Bye now!

omgcheckplease: ★ Notes on Year 4, Comic 26 - Check, Please ★In the summer of 2013, I was fully mourning my completed time as an undergr...

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ineskew: mellific: in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were wrong. (twitter) [ID: A quote from the Twilight Mirage arc of Friends at the Table, illustrated with art in shades of blue. “Since the first grain silo, cathedral, ship, computer,” the quote begins, over drawings of a grain silo, cathedral, rocket ship, and computer servers. “Since the first time we put pen to page— we have always made things different from ourselves,” it continues, the words appearing to be written with a fountain pen, a typewriter, and a word processor. The next couple lines are written over a picture of outer space, several spacecrafts and a city-ship flying through the stars: “For a long time we thought we were building mirrors. But now we know better: We were setting fires.” This last line is illustrated with a image of three planets drawn to resemble a glitching screen. /end ID] : SINCE THE FIRST GRAIN SILO CATHEDRAL SHIP COMPUTER SINGE THE FIRST TIME WE PUT PEN TO PAGE- MFile Edit View I we have always different from ourselves| made things FOR A LONG TIME WE THOUGHT WE WERE BUILDING MIRRORS BUT NOW WE KNOWW BETTER WE WERE SETTING FIRES. ineskew: mellific: in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were wrong. (twitter) [ID: A quote from the Twilight Mirage arc of Friends at the Table, illustrated with art in shades of blue. “Since the first grain silo, cathedral, ship, computer,” the quote begins, over drawings of a grain silo, cathedral, rocket ship, and computer servers. “Since the first time we put pen to page— we have always made things different from ourselves,” it continues, the words appearing to be written with a fountain pen, a typewriter, and a word processor. The next couple lines are written over a picture of outer space, several spacecrafts and a city-ship flying through the stars: “For a long time we thought we were building mirrors. But now we know better: We were setting fires.” This last line is illustrated with a image of three planets drawn to resemble a glitching screen. /end ID]

ineskew: mellific: in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were...

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superpanda112: I have stumbled upon this post many times and every time it bothered me that you have to scroll a lot to know the words soooo…. I made this in Word, trying to be less cluttered (sorry for bad quality) ORIGINAL POST BY @youstrology 💖: WHAT'S YOUR PERSONALITY? I am SUN, and MOON is what makes me feel emotionally happy, but I express myself in MERCURY way. When it comes to love, I will be VENUS, but when I get angry, I become MARS. Though people see me as RISING Life systematically challenges me to SATURN. My sense of humour is JUPITER. I'm URANUS when it comes to changes and I have the imagination of NEPTUNE. My secret energy and individual powers are aimed at PLUTO. Oh, and not to forget, I'll be absolutely successful as MIDHEAVEN. My deepest inner self can be compared to DOMINANT PLANET/DOMINANT SIGN. Sun Moon Mercury Venus Mars CHALLENGES Aries A REBEL A DIRECT PASSIONATE AGGRESSIVE A PRACTICAL COMMUNICATION A LIGHTHEARTED A GUARDIAN A MASTERMIND Taurus STABILITY RELIABLE STUBBORN Gemini REASONABLE DESTRUCTIVE Cancer A ROMANTIC CARE A SENTIMENTAL NUTRURING NASTY A RINGLEADER A DRAMATIC PRAISE Leo GENEROUS LOUD Virgo A HEALER SECURITY AΝIMPAΤIENT HELPFUL DISTANT Libra AN ARTIST INDIVIDUALITY A TACTFUL THOUGHTFUL CRITICAL Scorpio AN ENIGMA POWER A PIERCING INTENSE VENGEFUL A WANDERER Sagittarius EXPERIENCES A PLAYFUL FLIRTATIOUS INDIFFERENT Сapricorn AN OWNER AUTHENTICITY A CONCISE PROTECTIVE VIOLENT AN INNOVATOR Aquarius FRIENDSHIP A LOGICAL INTRIGUING SARCASTIC AVAGUE Pisces A DREAMER ART COMPASSIONATE SELFISH Rising Saturn Jupiter Uranus Aries BE TOLERANT THE FIGHTER TEASING ENTHUSIASTIC Taurus THE MASTER LOSE WHAT I LOVE MOST GROSS CAUTIOUS MAKE QUICK DECISIONS Gemini THE CHARMER BONDING-IN-THE-MOMENT FLEXIBLE FACE LONELINESS Cancer THE HELPER PARODIC IMPATIENT SACRIFICE MY DIGNITY THE INDIVIDUALIST Leo HYPERBOLIC PUSHY Virgo THE PENDANT DEAL WITH DISASTERS DARK PASSIVE Libra THE AESTHETE FIGHT IRONIC CURIOUS THE SCEPTIC Scorpio CONTROL MY INSTINCTS DRY DISTRUSTING Sagittarius THE COMEDIAN BE STUCK IN A RUT ANECDOTAL ECCENTRIC Capricorn THE VINTAGE SOUL FACE FAILURE SELF-DEPRECATING ANXIOUS Aquarius THE ADVISER BLEND IN WITTY IMPASSIONAED THE ANGEL FACE OVERWHELMING QUIRKY CULTURAL Pisces UNPREDICTABLE STRESS Neptune Pluto Midheaven Aries A MADCAP SEXUALITY AN ATHLETE A STRATEGIST Taurus IMPROVEMENTS AN ARCHITECT Gemini A SCHIZOPHRENE INTELLECTUALITY A TEACHER/ PROFESSOR A WRITER/ POET Cancer A CHILD EMOTIONAL INTENSITY Leo A POET DOMINATION AN ACTOR/ A FILM DIRECTOR A DOCTOR Virgo A SHAMAN OBSESSIONS Libra A DAYDREAMER RELIGION A DESIGNER A PSYCGIKIGUST Scorpio A MANIAC BLACK MAGIC AN IDEALIST Sagittarius EXPLORATIONS A POLITICIAN A LAWYER / JUDGE Сapricorn AN OCCULTIST ΑMΒΙΤIΟNS Aquarius A VISIONARY MANIPULATION A SCIENTIST Pisces A PROHET INTUITION A MUSICIAN Dominant Sign Dominant Planet Sun (Solarian) Moon (Lunarian) Mercury (Mercurian) Venus (Venusian) Mars (Martian) Jupiter (Jupiterian) Saturn (Saturnian) Uranus (Uranian) Neptune (Neptunian) Pluto (Plutonian) A MAJESTIC LIGHTNING Aries A TENDER Taurus FOREST A FATAL Gemini NORTHERN LIGHT A FASCINATING Cancer SEA HEAT A POWERFUL Leo A CHAOTIC Virgo FOG ΑΝ ANCIΕNT Libra RAINBOW AN IRREPRESSIBLE Scorpio TSUNAMI A WAVERING Sagittarius WILDFIRE A MYSTICAL Сapricorn VOLCANO Aquarius STORM MARSH Pisces superpanda112: I have stumbled upon this post many times and every time it bothered me that you have to scroll a lot to know the words soooo…. I made this in Word, trying to be less cluttered (sorry for bad quality) ORIGINAL POST BY @youstrology 💖

superpanda112: I have stumbled upon this post many times and every time it bothered me that you have to scroll a lot to know the words s...

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drst: arrghigiveup: TiL (click to go to the thread, which probably has more interesting tidbits I missed). Bonus: These are my people. : Benjamin Molineaux @benmolineaux Kids today: "you mean the save' button represents some kind of physical storage disk? OMG" Me today: "you mean 'upper case' and 'lower case' refer to the physical cases where printers kept their letters? OMG" Upper Case ib @% % 2 Em E& ECE BCDEFG L MINO PQR TVW X Y Z fA 4 5 6 718 e b n m En Em y p w QdOds JEm t Space Quads Lower Case 3.15 Pair of printer's cases (drawn by Rudolph Rižicka for D.B. Updike's Printing Types). 19:24 13 Sep 19 Twitter Web App Marc Verstaen @verstaen Replying to @benmolineaux and @GlennF It has French roots. Case means box in old French. Upper boxes, lower boxes. Bas de case, haut de case. 12:26 14 Sep 19 Twitter for iPhone Starburst vacuum @miopapio 4d Replying to @benmolineaux and @MaryRobinette now i only need to understand where the words type and font come from, and i'm done 1 21 Don Mackie @mackie_don 4d Font has a common root with found as in foundry. Type cast from molten metal. Having seen them in action Linotype machines are among my favourite bits of machinery. A giant typewriter with a furnace and crucible of molten lead at the back. There's a romance here. Y PE:THE FIL M GIF Li 15 6 204 Jason Thorpe @thorpej 3d Font designers are still called foundries. 1 28 3d Mary Robinette Kowal@ Jaw drops 11 pfarq @pfarqeu 1d Also, "leading" isn't the amount of space that "leads" the type, it is the size of the lead (metal) strips used to create said space. 1 Henningham Family Press. Replying to @benmolineaux and @MargotAtwell 4d Point sizes are seemingly random between typefaces because they refer to the piece of lead the type was on which you can no longer see 15 1 Katrina@KatrinaTransfem 4d There are 72 points in an inch, and the point size refers to the total height of the character set 2i 1 2 24 Margot Atwell @MargotAt... 4d Wow, I never realized this. I love type history! 1 2 Moon-faced Assassin...4 Replying to @benmolineaux and @Kilalalaa Also, in a printing press, putting a bunch of common words or phrases together is accomplished by mounting them in a single plate of text called a "Stereotype." And the sound it makes when it's pressed to the page is "cliche." Swear to god. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clich%C3%.. ti 40 125 drst: arrghigiveup: TiL (click to go to the thread, which probably has more interesting tidbits I missed). Bonus: These are my people.

drst: arrghigiveup: TiL (click to go to the thread, which probably has more interesting tidbits I missed). Bonus: These are my people.

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pseudonymsobriquet: klubbhead: halcyonjester: xmagnet-o: cfluffiness: Someone in facebook also posted this too Omg Mediglyphics This shit’s infuriating Oh, this is a type of shorthand! There are 3 main types, but from my research, this looks to be American Gregg Shorthand. As you can see, there are set symbols for every letter. Let’s break one of the words down: Using the Gregg Alphabet as reference, we can see most of the letters in “atrophied” are present. But why no “o” vowel, and why is “ph” written as “f”? Simple. In shorthand, you cut out all vowels in a word when writing it down, with the exception of words that BEGIN or END with a vowel (hence the “a” at the start being present), or like in the “i” in “atrophied”, to make it more readable when the sound could be harder to distinguish if it isn’t written. In “atrophied” if the the “i” isn’t written, it could be hard to tell if the writer meant a “fud”, “fad”, “fod” or “fid” sound, for example. Also, since Shorthand is a phonetic writing system, you are encouraged to write down the phonetic sounds of words rather than the actual letter blends - in this case, write an “f” instead of a “ph”. So in actuality, these aren’t just meaningless scribbles - it’s Gregg Shorthand, a writing system developed to take down notes more quickly than when written out in full, which is very useful in a medical or journalistic environment. Some people can even write over 100 words in a minute! And, it’s been in use since John Robert Gregg invented it in 1888! Wow! So old! Isn’t language amazing~? Ya tenéis traductor.: Red @redgermz Saw this on Facebook and sent it to my brother, who is a pharmacist. Unsa man na b 10:29 AM Paracetamol OMG pseudonymsobriquet: klubbhead: halcyonjester: xmagnet-o: cfluffiness: Someone in facebook also posted this too Omg Mediglyphics This shit’s infuriating Oh, this is a type of shorthand! There are 3 main types, but from my research, this looks to be American Gregg Shorthand. As you can see, there are set symbols for every letter. Let’s break one of the words down: Using the Gregg Alphabet as reference, we can see most of the letters in “atrophied” are present. But why no “o” vowel, and why is “ph” written as “f”? Simple. In shorthand, you cut out all vowels in a word when writing it down, with the exception of words that BEGIN or END with a vowel (hence the “a” at the start being present), or like in the “i” in “atrophied”, to make it more readable when the sound could be harder to distinguish if it isn’t written. In “atrophied” if the the “i” isn’t written, it could be hard to tell if the writer meant a “fud”, “fad”, “fod” or “fid” sound, for example. Also, since Shorthand is a phonetic writing system, you are encouraged to write down the phonetic sounds of words rather than the actual letter blends - in this case, write an “f” instead of a “ph”. So in actuality, these aren’t just meaningless scribbles - it’s Gregg Shorthand, a writing system developed to take down notes more quickly than when written out in full, which is very useful in a medical or journalistic environment. Some people can even write over 100 words in a minute! And, it’s been in use since John Robert Gregg invented it in 1888! Wow! So old! Isn’t language amazing~? Ya tenéis traductor.
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thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.* : thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
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