OPEN POST

[recognize_an_opportunity]

Holy wow look at this open post just look at it isn't it glorious?

Yeah, so, leave me prompts or something.

Comments

[not_here]

Yeah, but look, man, if you were fucking dead...

[Oh. Fuck. Well. He should probably remedy that stupid fucking statement, huh? Maybe he should make it a little more pointed, get the message across a little stronger. It's not that he wants to give this guy too much shit -- okay, fuck it, maybe he does, maybe just a little -- but hey, the guy's getting under his fucking skin, and what's he supposed to do about that? Just sit there and fucking take it? No chance.]

Right. Let me rephrase that. You are fucking dead. So if you didn't fucking remember how you died, if you didn't have a clear fucking memory of that shit, and someone offered to provide you some visual fucking stimulation? You probably wouldn't be too fucking happy about that, would you?

[Or maybe he would. Fuck, this guy's weird. He'd probably enjoy seeing his own dead body. He'd probably think it was some kind of great fucking metaphysical, existential bullshit, when all it would really be would be fucking creepy and wrong.]

[isfallingdown]

[It's very odd that he is dead because he's also alive, or at least he feels as alive as he ever did before. Is he still dead? maybe you never stop being dead, even if you've been brought to life in a place like this. Or maybe you never die! Yeah, but that's kind of a silly thought, because he definitely died, remembers the sharp snap before the cold filtering away, remembers the way it felt like everything, everything just draining from his body like the world'd been shaken and he'd fallen out and the color was falling out and nauseating, it'd been--

Shit, man. Shit. That's just going to get him down. It's all done with now. It happened, it just happened and he's still here, right?]

Hey, I don't know... It doesn't matter about me.

Because anyway, I do remember. [Isn't that great? He remembers dying, even if he doesn't remember... Ahhh hah. Things. Just... things.] I don't know what I'd... hypothetically what I'd want to know if I didn't. Maybe if we traded knowledge, maybe then I'd know. Can you do that? Can you trade memories?

...Nah, probably not. Wow, ahhhah... You know, if we could trade memories? Just swap yours for mine, say some of the things happened to you really happened to me? If we could do that, we could trade deaths.

...Yeah, just think of how great that'd be.

[not_here]

You keep saying it doesn't fucking matter about you, like you don't fucking matter at all. Is that what you think? Because that's bullshit, man, that's bullshit. You matter just as much as everyone else.

[It's like a twisted fucking version of a pep talk, in a weird way, and he's not sure why he's giving it, except it really kind of pisses him off that this guy never seems to want to talk about himself, that he just wants to say this fucking crazy shit (is it crazy? Is it really? Probably not, and that scares the fuck out of Chef) and talk about trading fucking memories and... Well, on the other hand, this guy had been stuck in that fucking compound for a long time, hadn't he? Wouldn't anyone go crazy there?

And who the fuck is Chef to judge anyone for going fucking crazy anywhere, right? He'd gone crazy on that goddamned river, and he knows it. Maybe he'd been a little crazy before the fucking tiger had nearly killed him, but that had been the last fucking straw. He knows he's verifiably, completely, one hundred percent fucking crazy now.]

I don't think I wanna trade memories with you, man. No offense, but fuck, you've got some stuff in there that I don't think I ever wanna see. And I sure as fuck don't wanna trade deaths with you, either.

[Or does he? Which death is better? Shit, it turns out the same way in the end anyway, so does it really fucking matter? Probably not.]