4chan (hatemachine) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-07-20 03:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | 4chan, video games |
You know who you are
Who: 4chan and Video Games
What: Chris has melted and Alli is alone. Big sister to the rescue!
Where: Celes' apartment eventually
When: Monday afternoon
Warnings: Language, references to violence, general 4chan offensiveness
It was all inside. Inside the walls, inside your head, inside Pamela Anderson's gaping vagina of horrors filled with centipedes it was melting.
Chris had gone away. Through the fire storm of confused confusion help I can't no where are you the system is down she could feel him, huge and intrusive in his not-existing as he had ever been in presence. Somewhere along the line (since that fucking Asian whore had eaten the liver from his body and Alli had screamed silently in their head, locked away away away where she couldn't help them until Chris himself bled out) he had stopped trying to cling to life and had taken refuge in his sister-twin's skirts.
Hadn't John said she was the stronger? But now she knew it. /b/ only consists of one-third of 4chan's overall traffic, meaning 4chan was only missing one sixth of its life force. The math added up: Alli was still here and Chris wasn't which meant she was stronger. Some day when her brain was stable (hah!), when every thought wasn't a barrage (firestorm herd murder hurricane flood) of input and posts and replies and tl;dr every repost is repost repost, when all aspects of her brain weren't shattered into conflict and the him that dominated had stopped fighting with the essence of her, Alli would feel victorious. Some day she would gloat. But now there was only confusion.
Only pain.
How did anyone manage to live in their own heads alone? Every second that went by without his acerbic voice in her head or the burn of his fangs in her side tore at her skin with razor claws that felt alone. Alone wasn't right and never had been. Maybe when big sister got here, she would stop being alone.
Video Games would find her sitting on the fire escape of her apartment building, drawing on the brick wall in something that looked startlingly like blood (and might be, if not for the equally surprising lack of wounds on Alli's body- a vestige of Chris' own vanity and self-preservation warring with Alli's lust for self-harm). Runes, heiroglyphs, endless spirals of ones and zeros that twisted in double helices: the mural was large and without pattern unless one stepped back to see.
The graffiti formed a giant penis.
Alli cocked her head to one side when she felt-heard-smelled her sister approaching. "Hello," she said without turning, still painting. "You're not late at all so I can't quote Alice in Wonderland. Rude."