draino | fuck marry kill

Entry tags:

!meme

fuck marry kill

FUCK, MARRY, KILL

welcome to GAME NIGHT at DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES. the game on the docket? FUCK, MARRY, KILL. the rules are simple: roll the game picker wheel three times or just pick three as you'd like, dropping the names in your header comment — icly we'll say they picked they names out of a hat. people respond, comment around, get into fist fights, kiss a little? thread hop and react as you see fit!
(meme threads can be considered canon!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Elias, Faith, and Gwen.

[achieved with the best assistance that even balfour money can't buy.]

Fuck Faith, marry Gwen, kill the angry little guy who shit the bed at ice hockey the week before Christmas. [a long and tragic pause, brow furrowing—]

Don't know how I feel about how well this lines up with Ani's ass rankings.

[why do people keep mentioning him. who is doing this. koby if he ever finds out you gave the stranger his name–]

I won those games. How is that 'shitting the bed'?

[dickhead.]

Left before you could lose. How is that not 'shitting the bed?'

[technically, this is the random number generator's fault, assuming koby did nothing unscrupulous.]

[elias will always assume the worst.]

You serious? [hand on the table, a little too close to someone's drink. his fingertips graze the glass, like an angry cat ready to knock something over.] I left because I was done.

Kill the guy who can't mind his business.

[he's talking about trying to poke around in his head, buddy.]

[the stranger does not look at the poor onlooker's unfortunate drink. he's busy looking at elias, like an idiot fascinated by an eclipse. makes him motionless.]

Not how you play. You're supposed to fuck and marry somebody, too.

I don't want to play. Come up with something better.

Kill the guy who can't mind his business—outside?

[the stranger's smile is a little shitty, but just a little.]

[some annoyance tapers off. he is looking at the stranger like he's considering.]

Does the guy have to join me?

[the absence of annoyance puts a little moue on the stranger's face. he stands up, though. reaches to shift that other person's near-casualty drink back from the table's edge.]

I don't die without a little effort.

[reflexively, elias' fingers wrap around the glass and drag it just out of the stranger's reach.]

Most people don't. [eyes flicker down at the glass, the stranger, back again. index taps the glass three times and he decides to leave the drink alone. out of his seat, he's making for the exit without checking if the stranger is following him. something says he is. like they didn't come to these terms together:] What do you want?

[behind elias, where only others and maybe door eyeball can see, the stranger throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. a very shitty 'god help me' gesture for a sacrilegious space wizard.

but he follows. by the time elias turns, he's staring again.]

Your blood in my mouth. Or the other way around. Not picky.

[he looks put-out. like the world they're in keeps pushing his buttons and the stranger is sitting on one of them.]

Why.

[the oddity of this question registers in the stranger's face. a kink in his brow, interrupting whatever weird thought process was going on, starting a new weird thought process. he looks at elias like he's genuinely confused that the younger man might not know. he is confronted with impossibilities every day, and yet.]

Because you're beautiful.

[there's a tilt of his head implying less apathy to health and limb than before.] Certain bright light. Guts that make for a good game. You didn't notice?

[the stranger's confusion is met with his own. thoughts glitch, overlapping one over the other, like he doesn't know what to do with that statement. he gets stuck there. no one calls elias anastos beautiful, even his mother, who loved him as much as a mother loves a child, never uttered those words.]

Fuck off with that. [but there's no malice, only dismissive annoyance.] Are you asking me to hit you?

[sad, to have one's best hand at sincerity tossed away. the stranger smiles instead. better to have capacity to self-direct schadenfreude, if you're going to run around in his boots. (he knows what schadenfreude is, now. looked it up.)]

Yeah.