𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐔 "the worst (adoring)" 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nichocolatine) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citynet2023-08-02 09:07 am
nichocolatine) wrote in citynet2023-08-02 09:07 am
video | un: NAILS
[ good morning city-folk, how's your day? today's broadcast is brought to you by our sponsors Fuck This Place, in partnership with Fuck Heine Especially. the video begins after the phone's owner sets it on the ground, so the camera angle is a little strange, but he never claimed to be some marvel of photography here so you get what you get okay.
badou also plunks himself on the ground in what appears to be the sidewalk in front of some nondescript convenience store. the shelves of which he'd just raided if the plastic bag he sets down beside him is of any indication. within its contents one can find a bright pink energy drink, a generous helping of cigarette cartons, and what appears to be a family-size bag of off-brand twizzlers. #bachelorlife, amirite?
there's bruising on his neck that's only just begun to fade, and a splint around his left wrist that's already got various crude drawings on it, all courtesy of mr. artist himself. he works on fishing himself out and lighting up a brand new cigarette before even addressing the camera (made all the more difficult by that fractured wrist) so enjoy five minutes of nicotine addict ASMR. ]
Hey. 'Sup. How ya doing. Have y'all seen my dog? Lost him a bit ago, about yea high, real pale, red eyes, no eyebrows, answers to the name Heine or Fuckface.
[ for ease, he's provided a supplementary visual, which he holds up to the camera with all the flourish of a child's first finger-painting. BEHOLD his uncanny portrait! yes, his commissions are open. ]
[ he crumples the paper with perhaps a lot more ire for someone supposedly "missing" his ""dog"" but a deep drag of his cigarette quickly calms him back down. there's a beat-up lighter in his hand he can't seem to stop fiddling with. ]
Thought about putting some signs up and slappin' 'em on some milk cartons but who knows what the fuck whoever's-in-charge-here considers """vandalism""" and I ain't about to go around testin' it like some of you can't seem to stop yourselves from.
[ a-hem. ]
Speakin' of — that survey we were given here. How many of ya answered that honestly? Shit's startin' to get real personal, though I think I'd remember if I'd been asked about the worst fuckin' day of my life.
[ which begs the question he's sure everyone's already thought about by now: how the fuck do these people know them that well? ]
( EDITED: because someone (me) forgot to include injuries.... smh )
badou also plunks himself on the ground in what appears to be the sidewalk in front of some nondescript convenience store. the shelves of which he'd just raided if the plastic bag he sets down beside him is of any indication. within its contents one can find a bright pink energy drink, a generous helping of cigarette cartons, and what appears to be a family-size bag of off-brand twizzlers. #bachelorlife, amirite?
there's bruising on his neck that's only just begun to fade, and a splint around his left wrist that's already got various crude drawings on it, all courtesy of mr. artist himself. he works on fishing himself out and lighting up a brand new cigarette before even addressing the camera (made all the more difficult by that fractured wrist) so enjoy five minutes of nicotine addict ASMR. ]
Hey. 'Sup. How ya doing. Have y'all seen my dog? Lost him a bit ago, about yea high, real pale, red eyes, no eyebrows, answers to the name Heine or Fuckface.
[ for ease, he's provided a supplementary visual, which he holds up to the camera with all the flourish of a child's first finger-painting. BEHOLD his uncanny portrait! yes, his commissions are open. ]
[ he crumples the paper with perhaps a lot more ire for someone supposedly "missing" his ""dog"" but a deep drag of his cigarette quickly calms him back down. there's a beat-up lighter in his hand he can't seem to stop fiddling with. ]
Thought about putting some signs up and slappin' 'em on some milk cartons but who knows what the fuck whoever's-in-charge-here considers """vandalism""" and I ain't about to go around testin' it like some of you can't seem to stop yourselves from.
[ a-hem. ]
Speakin' of — that survey we were given here. How many of ya answered that honestly? Shit's startin' to get real personal, though I think I'd remember if I'd been asked about the worst fuckin' day of my life.
[ which begs the question he's sure everyone's already thought about by now: how the fuck do these people know them that well? ]
( EDITED: because someone (me) forgot to include injuries.... smh )
@junpei
[Just saying!! Weird dog, dude. Is this guy's friend(???) yet another person to add to the list of missing people, or... hmm.
Well, besides that:] My survey questions weren't personal at all. What the hell are you guys getting asked?
no subject
[ he took artistic liberty to get the Vibes™ right okay? ]
I got asked some weird shit. Dirty dreams and nightmares and stuff.
no subject
[Anyway wow, someone else who got asked the dirty dreams question... Good to know the mastermind (tm) is just reusing internet quizzes, for sure.]
And you can't really think that's ultra personal, right...? That's some middle school level "what kind of cake are you" crap.
no subject
[ not that it makes much of a difference to badou, but he's way past annoyed now and when he gets to that stage it's very easy for his problem to be everyone's problem. ]
That's what I'm sayin' — the shit I was asked couldn't have given 'em the kinda ammo they're hitting me with now. So how the fuck'd they know?
no subject
[Assuming... these guys text... like homies..... anyway,]
Wait, if it's not the survey, are you talking about the stuff in the bank? Or is something else already happening?
no subject
but for the purposes of saving face, the redhead pretends to consider it for a time. ]
Yeah, he's probably still here somewhere. Being a punkass.
[ he pauses to take another drag of his cigarette, wincing faintly when he jostles his fractured wrist too much in the process. ]
Just the bank stuff. At least that's all I know of now. Swear I'm gonna shit on the floor if someone else is happening.
[ can he get a break? CAN HE PLEASE GET A BREAK? ]
no subject
[That might be the wrong question but oops! Too late! What did you do, eyebrows artist guy.]
But no—nothing else is going on, as far as I know. Uh, besides the ice cream place being open now. That's nothing compared to the bank.
So, you think they messed with our heads to get that stuff into the bank?
no subject
[ he's never done anything wrong in his life? thanks?? ]
Ice cream place... [ badou rubs at his face and for that moment genuine weariness peeks through, but the second later he's back to looking annoyed. ] Are we unlocking this city bit by bit or something? Some kinda reward for getting through the bank shit?
[ thanks he hates it! ]
Fuck, why not. Don't nobody know how they got us all here in the first place, why wouldn't they also have some kinda way to dig into our brains for our deepest and darkest. Why not.
no subject
[Hmm!! Anyway, not the point: the point is the fucked up bank, probably. It usually is, these past couple weeks.]
Some people think they chipped our brains. They can see all our memories like going through computer files... It could be that. It could be all of us getting our minds wiped, like the people who- [ugh] -die. Maybe you did tell them everything.
no subject
I accept that that's sound logic. [ HOWEVER— ] But what happened between us is our business [ till he decides it's everyone's business again, that is ] even if I still didn't do nothin'.
[ ugh, but this new strain of conversation isn't exactly all that pleasant either. still, it's important to think about, even if he feels a little like throwing up the handful of not-twizzlers he's already managed to eat by now. ]
Still wouldn't have said anything unless they made me. And if they could already do that, I don't see what's the point in pretending like they can't. Can't be a power thing. Think it's pretty damn obvious to everyone who's in charge here.
no subject
[He's only interested in the possibility of people getting spirited away, so like, dude's somewhere? That's fine! It's time to talk about Memory Loss instead.]
They don't need to convince themselves this is our first time around, just us. If they're trying to get something specific out of us, that makes us the variable in their fucked up experiment, yeah? So... [a shrug.] I don't think any of this is something as easy as a power play.
no subject
[ look, he's no stranger to human experiments, but it's only by association. what he does know is paranoia and pessimism, and he doesn't particularly care how loud he is about it. ]
no subject
[That's what the other theys wanted out of him the first two times...! Third time is surely the charm, "charm" here meaning "same gd shit as before".]
You know, find the right combo of people to achieve some goal. We need to learn more to figure out what the goal is, though.
no subject
Ya think it's got somethin' to do with who you're workin' with? What're the rest of us supposed to be? Filler?
no subject
We probably all have to pitch in... We're not the people in control of the variables, here. We are the variables.
no subject
[ or, if there is, it's not one any of them want to know. ]
Why's it sound like you've done this before?
no subject
So,] Thiiiis is round three for me. I'm extremely kidnappable. First two times weren't as... big as this, though? Way fewer people.
no subject
Buddy — no offense — but anybody ever ask if the problem's you?
no subject
[Entirely possible. Anyway,] It's probably not about me this time. There are at least a hundred of us.
no subject
Maybe your reach got wider.
no subject
Maybe we all got our names pulled out of a big hat and it doesn't mean anything.
no subject
That's a damn big hat.
no subject
It's ten million gallons. We're all just unlucky.
no subject
Bad luck, I can believe. Pretty sure I was born in it.
no subject
[ha ha........ right.....]
(no subject)