windy-city-wonder replied to your post: I DON’T CARE WHOSE MIND YOU’RE A FIGMENT OF PUT YOUR SHIT BACK ON.
… WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
I DUNNO YOUR HALLUCINATIONS ARE TALKIN’ TO EACHOTHAH. DON’T ASK ME MAN IT’S YOUR BRAIN. MAYBE YOU’RE HAVIN’ A REALLY FUCKED UP DREAM. ALSO WHOOPS THERE GO MY PANTS.
Q:I DON'T CARE WHOSE MIND YOU'RE A FIGMENT OF PUT YOUR SHIT BACK ON.
HEY DON’T LOOK AT ME MAN IT AIN’T MY FAULT. FLETCHAH’S JUST A PERVERT.
Source: call-me-k-kwik
Q:Tess I'm a figment of your imagination I only know as much as you do 'bout all of this... I KNOW I'm not real because for some reason I LOVE the Boston Red Sox >:T
…oh yeah, I guess that’s true.
….
Hey. Hey Wally, can I have a motahcycle?
Q:... The fuck are you doin' that for?!? Hey, girlie, don't you give me any attitude! I ain't the one leadin' this jackass brigade!
Why do ya think? You think I’m gonna let that four-eyed asshole carve ya up? Now go away imaginary Wally, I’m tryin’ ta not get jumped heah.
Q:Hey it's your conscience or whatever again. Don't let anyone touch my shit okay? >:1
Yeah okay imaginary Wally. Just, you know, out heah in th’ woods, prob’ly about ta walk inta a fuckin’ trap ta save your wrinkly old hide, but yeah, I’ll make sure nobody touches your shit. >:T
Elvis Presley and Nancy Sinatra in ‘Speedway’, 1968.
Source: let--yourselfgo
Everything’s running smoothly.
Walter’s (temporarily) gone, Tess is (almost definitely) on her way, and Dimitri is quietly smoking on the branch of a tree as he makes sure his gun is loaded and that his dead ringer is functionnal.
Just in case the Scout is stupid enough to try coming at him. Just in case.
The Spy traded his suit for a black sweater and pants—the same sort of clothing he wore when he sneaked in TFI—and his signature fez is nowhere to be seen.
He flicks the cigarette away once his filter is the last thing between the burning ash and his lips and hops off the tree with the grace of a cat.
A cat with a migraine, actually.
Dimitri casts a quick glance at the audio recorder he brought for the occasion; it’s ready, lying by his feet and all he’ll need to do is to flick it on as soon as Tess shows up.
And if she doesn’t comply, then that’s what the hockey bag—and its contents, mostly its contents—is there for.
He’s silently thankful he dropped by a drugstore on the way back, as he pops a pill in his mouth and swallows.
He should get his head checked by a Medic soon, all that pressure building inside his cranium is not the least bit normal.
Running through the woods in the dark is not exactly easy. Tess has already fallen more than once, tripped over a root or a rock or other hidden obstacle, and she’s pretty sure her right knee is bleeding. But she won’t stop. She can’t. Each time she falls, she pulls herself to her feet and continues on.
She doesn’t even know where she’s going. The note the Spy had left her didn’t even say where to meet him, just that she should come to the woods, tonight, if she wanted to see Walter alive. The Scout skids to a stop and looks around, chest heaving from her headlong rush through the trees. With a sick sort of feeling, she realizes that she’s not far from the place where she ambushed Allison. She’s… not entirely sure how she feels about that.
“Wheah are ya you goddamn spook?!” Tess yells, though she feels stupid doing it. Spinning in a slow circle, gripping the handle of her bat tightly, she scans the trees with darting, panicked eyes.
Source: offtovisityourmother
