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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 15, 2022 16:32:13 GMT -5
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Post by B. on Jan 16, 2022 2:12:41 GMT -5
This is cool. I like the fact that Tragedy is clearly mentally ill lol
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jan 16, 2022 3:35:33 GMT -5
Yeah but what do you think about the story??
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 16, 2022 4:07:15 GMT -5
Yeah but what do you think about the story?? I'm looking forward to the next chapters. I've always known that most of us weren't exactly examples of normal people, and it's no wonder that many of us end up in straitjackets at some point in our lives, whether voluntarily or not.
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Post by R. on Jan 16, 2022 6:46:23 GMT -5
Semblance gave Roxy a puzzled look, but decided not to enquire further. Instead, he moved closer to the hole to get a better look at the room she was in. It was a small, barren cell similar to his own, with an uncomfortable-looking bed and a small table pushed up against a grey wall covered in doodles and frantic writing. Before he could see what the writing said, Roxy began talking again. “What’s your name? I’m guessing you’re new here. When I first heard all that noise I thought they might have found Panic. I’m glad she hasn’t been captured again, she hated it here. We all do, but her especially so. She ran away a few months ago; all I know is that she had a fight with Dr Comedie. I hope she’s alright out there!” Semblance told her his name, and was about to ask her who Panic was, but was interrupted by a fit of aggressive growling from the room on the other side of his, and so decided to ask her about that instead. “Don’t worry about that, that’s just Bear,” she said. “He does that sometimes.” He shook his head. Everyone at 667 had heard of Bear, he was carted away after he started rampaging through his university campus, roaring and biting anyone who tried to stop him. Having a room next to him would have been quite alarming, if Semblance was the type to be alarmed. Instead, he was concentrating on trying to remember if any of the people who had taken him to the asylum had tattoos on their ankles. Roxy had gone off to sit on her bed and mutter under her breath to nobody in particular, occasionally interrupted by a small, awkward giggle. The hours passed in silence, until Semblance lost track completely of time. He didn’t sleep at all that night.
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Post by R. on Jan 16, 2022 6:46:52 GMT -5
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Post by twigz on Jan 16, 2022 6:49:38 GMT -5
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 16, 2022 9:29:26 GMT -5
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Post by R. on Jan 16, 2022 9:43:49 GMT -5
Is that the room?
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 16, 2022 14:43:25 GMT -5
This is just a fan art of your work. And represents the Room. But it's not canonical. But did you like it?
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 17, 2022 15:33:58 GMT -5
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 17, 2022 16:19:06 GMT -5
As I already explained, I do only edit pre-existing images. I can not draw.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 18, 2022 18:39:07 GMT -5
I sincerely missed today's chapter.
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Post by R. on Jan 20, 2022 15:32:18 GMT -5
“What exactly happened?” Twiggy asked, with a sense of morbid curiosity in her voice, and Semblance told her. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a waterfall of questions about VFD erupting from Mr M and Roxy. Mr M in particular seemed very curious about the inner workings of the organisation, although why Semblance would know anything about that I haven’t the faintest idea. After he explained to Mr M that he didn’t, in fact, know all the secrets of VFD, the bell rang to announce the end of breakfast, and the inmates were marched outside to the yard to get their daily 20 minutes of fresh air. The crowd scattered as soon as they reached the door, everyone going off in different directions to talk to their own group of close companions. Bee and Semblance talked wistfully about the food they missed from the outside world, while Roxy sat down on a bench and began an intense discussion on Sherlock Holmes with someone nobody else could see but who she kept referring to as ‘Klaus’. Twiggy paced around frantically trying to get some energy back into her, occasionally bumping into someone in her exhausted absent-mindedness. Nobody noticed that Mr M had vanished entirely. Nobody except the tall man leaning against a metal plant pot in the corner, gazing intently at his wristwatch to disguise the fact he was watching everyone and, as always, trying to figure out their deepest secrets. Yet another bell began to ring, far louder and shriller than the one that came before, and everyone began to retreat to their rooms, encouraged by a regiment of shouting guards. Only Roxy remained outside, too absorbed in her delusions to notice everyone had gone. Semblance tried to call for her, but one of the guards grabbed hold of him and dragged him away. He sat alone in his room for hours, peering nervously through the hole in his cell wall for any sign of Roxy, until finally he heard a series of crashes and thumps from the other side. Two women in black-and-yellow asylum uniforms were dragging a struggling Roxy back to her cell. Her arms were as always in a straitjacket, and on her head was a strange device with wires which snaked around her temples and a pair of plastic muffs covering her ears. The women slammed the door shut and walked away, their shoes clacking against the wooden floorboards. “What was that?” Semblance whispered, and Roxy must have somehow guessed that he was there as she replied, “I can’t hear you! They make me wear these things when the voices become too loud, they do block them out but the noise is unbearable!” Indeed, she was squirming about on her bed trying to get them off, but the knots holding them onto her head were far too complicated. He wanted to help her, but he had no idea what to do until all of a sudden he heard a knock at the door.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jan 20, 2022 20:28:54 GMT -5
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