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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:koQjHkwi Thu 09 Jan 2025 10:49:01 No.6173026 View View Report

Quoted By:

Really, besides Jacques and (arguably) the general store guy, you didn't know any of these people a month ago. You knew of some of them, of course. You talked to Monty and Madrigal and stuff to get lodging here. When you search your mind for interactions, though, you come up curiously empty.

We juggle crocodiles, genius.

...Which means you didn't talk to them much. You were very busy tracking down the Crown, after all, and didn't have the time. It doesn't mean anything else.

With crowdsourced assistance, the crates have been hauled in and split open, exposing their contents: food and drink. Drink? Doesn't Monty prohibit alcohol on premises? But there he is, helping. Did somebody lie to you about the rule? Why would they do that?

"Why don't you ask him, Charlie?"

Ah! Richard! What was he— he was not always sitting next to you. God-damnit. Ask who? (Richard jabs his thumb to the side.) ...Fake Ellery? Why? Because he happened to be here? Wait, shouldn't he still be dead?

"Booze rules get relaxed during Game Night," Fake Ellery says.

Wait. No way. Can he... you shut your eyes and concentrate. Can he read minds? Is he reading your mind?

"You were staring off like this." He bugs his eyes out. "Not that hard to parse. That was my spot, by the way."

There's a certain tone in his voice— it strikes you as wrong on him, though you couldn't say why. "Um, well, I'm not feeling well, so..."

"And I am?"

Madrigal, on her way back, saves you from comparing your suffering levels. "Alright! We got our lib... lybe... Ell! Word!"

"Libations?" Ellery says.

"Fuck yeah. Got our libations. Sprung for more than usual, but this is the first Game Night in a hot sec, so— you know. Don't get too shitheaded, or you're getting booted. Mister Sober over there is watching." She waves a hand over at Monty. "Hear that, Ell?"

"Can't get drunk," Ellery says stonily.

"Still? I thought—"

"Still."

"Huh. Well, that goes for you, then, Charlotte. You might be the hero of the hour, but you can turn that around real quick if you start brawling, okay? Or being a bitch in general. Mod-er-a-tion. Er, speech comes first, though. HEY!"

She steps up onto the settee next to you, nearly trampling Richard, who vanishes in response. Damn. Is he—?

«I'll be around, Charlie. Give a shout if you need me.»

Should've known. Okay. "HEY!" Madrigal says again. "EYES UP HERE!"

There's a tinging noise, then silence. (You peek over as Eloise sets down her glass and fork.)

"Thank you! Thanks. Thanks, everybody. Hey! So, Game Night, huh?" Scattered cheers. "Been a bit! That's on me. Sorry, folks, I was laid up by a snake coming outta my cooch—" Silence. "I'm fucking with you! Came outta my leg. Then I had a little road trip— hey, if you know, you know. Anyways! You didn't come to hear about me!"

"Sure we did," Ellery says.

(2/5)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:bFAtGa2j Mon 28 Nov 2022 05:35:19 No.5478745 View View Report

Quoted By:

You're not saying Ellery recorded all of that. You're extrapolating. And he was way too early to catch the whole genre of "ripping out your own spine" dreams, not to mention this new snake shit. If it even was snake shit. If you even were dreaming, and didn't wake up just because. (It's not like you were screaming.) Actually, now that you're thinking about it, can you— can you dream inside a dream mansion? Does that make any sense? Should you have actually been listening to Ellery every time he rambled on about things he knew perfectly well you gave no shits about? How are you bringing up Ellery twice in 30 seconds? He's fucking dead to you! You're sick in the head, Madrigal, or more than likely it's 4 AM and you're bleary and you need to lay back down pronto. It's still dark. Just lay back down and don't think about the past or the future or tight spaces or ripping your own spine out or your ex-boyfriend. Or any ex-boyfriend. Just lay...

...

Fuck! What the fuck are you doing? You jolt up again and pound your fist into your thigh to keep yourself awake. Then you scramble off the sofa and stand, arms crossed, in your bare feet on what should be the ice-cold tile. To your unflesh it is eerily neutral. Fine! You don't care about the fucking tile. You have been lazy.

Yeah. Face it. You've been lazy. Going back to sleep? When you didn't mean to go to sleep in the first place? When you're fucking kidnapped? And most importantly— when you've accomplished nothing? Nothing. Let's count. You buttered up a mentally deficient slime-man who proceeded to (badly) manipulate you, then vanished inexplicably. You buttered up your captor, Pat, then threw a tantrum like a bitch and undid all your progress. And you got pretty good at that most fucking useful of life skills, reforming yourself out of a puddle. So you could get under a mystery door, which might contain nothing, and which you haven't even bothered going under yet. That's it. You've thieved nothing, busted into nowhere, discovered nothing of any note except that Pat's fucked the slime-man. One of the slime-men. Oh, and there's maybe a door out in the basement, wherever the fuck that is, and it's fucking locked to Pat specifically so ha ha ha fuck you. Get experimented on. Get released after a week or longer as a blessed fucking act of charity. Madrigal fucking Fitzpatrick, charity case!

(2/4)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:40Q0Ehom Sat 24 Sep 2022 11:36:13 No.5413875 View View Report

Quoted By:

"Have you looked?" says the woman, but you don't want to. You've been avoiding looking. Because you're not a fucking coward, though, you glance down and see a great vat brimming with marbly blue-white slime, and yourself: you're extruded out of this vat, a weird quivering slime-protuberance. You have no legs. It looks as though you're sitting in a bath.

Your resolve weakens.

>[-3 Grit: 7/15]

The woman senses this, because she interjects before you can rev up the screaming again. "...Yeah, it's hard when you don't have a direct blood sample. That's what it really latches onto, is the blood, the ephemeral stuff isn't nearly as— I should probably start at the beginning. You were in the snake."

"Shit," you say hoarsely, because it's true. The numbness. The dark hole.

"Yeah. I don't know where your original body is. I'm assuming it's wherever home is for you. So I had to— I'm having to improvise somewhat, sorry. You're made of goo. In the very early stages of it, actually, when we're done you'll be all—" She fumbles with the scalpel, pulls up her sleeve, and scoops a chunk out of her arm. She holds the chunk out to you: it's quivering and translucent and a pretty sky-blue. "You shouldn't be able to tell the difference. You'll be in effect human. Okay?"

You stare hollowly at the goo-woman. She sighs. "I have nothing to gain from lying to you, Madr— is that your name? Hold on." She slides her glove off and peers at something scribbled on the back of her hand. "Madri...gal. Fitz-something. Fitzsimmons?"

Fuck. "Fitzpatrick."

"Fitzpatrick. Okay, got it. Remembering that." She scratches her neck. "Do you by any chance go by 'Maddie'?"

Double-fuck. You tense up. "Not to most people."

"But to some people," she says. "Alright... Madrigal, let's—"

Okay. You've remembered.

You are Madrigal Fitzpatrick. Your real body is somewhere else. Your friends— well, your acquaintances and your ex— are somewhere else. Maybe dead. You are in a vat, you are made crudely of goo, and your kidnapper is staring down at you.

Wat do?

>You may select multiple.

>[1] Call your kidnapper rude names.
>[2] Call your kidnapper extremely rude names.
>[3] Ask where you are.
>[4] Ask what she plans to do with you.
>[5] Ask what she plans to do with Matches. The snake.
>[6] Ask what she did to Ellery and Charlotte and the other one.
>[7] Ask why she bothered extracting you at all.
>[8] Write-in.

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