Posts by Encyclopedia Paranoica

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Encyclopedia Paranoiaca watched in silence.

Survival.

Survival definitely met now kissing people who probably wanted to bite your face off. Thats why he continued pray the bottle would never land on him ever. He had his blood pressure. He needed to keep track of that. Wouldn't want to get a heart attack.

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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]SOMEHOW IT NEEDS TO BE AN AWKWARD FORCED FRIENDSHIP
Where one wants to go cry somewhere, and the other wants to go prep for the apocalypse.
As in; they both really both don't want to be there, and bond and become friends
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]Oh no.
The paranoid and secluded survivalist shrank back, tail twitching. Looking up from his paws, the tom swallowed. He was all geared up. He was safe.

This was safe. He ignored the panic.
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]During that brief moment when time was frozen.

Imagine a small paranoid feline falling down the stairs while going to bury money. His face looked quite bored as It made contact with the stairs. Money was frozen in the air in some spectacular frozen 'Make it rain.'
Then time started.
The tom crashed onto the ground, butt in the air in front of the stairs, and face buried in the floor. Nothing was managed but a single tear. "I'm going to move to Spain and run with the bulls." He sniffed. Probably he had been on crack the previous night while he had his weekly mental breakdown. Not to mention how much of a mess he was. He was weird like that. He reached the point once a week where he just 'had no more f#cks to give.'
This zombie of a cat was what peeled itself out of the beer stained bed that morning. The thing about his mental breakdowns? He regretted it every morning. Especially the hangovers.
He was keen and tame and then BAM. He'd trash his body with drugs and alcohol. He rubbed his dry eyes, limping across the ground. That’s when he heard the loud bangs in a particular room. The extreme survivalist would simply move on. Don't get involved.
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"Got 99 problems."

The male tilted his head. Psh. Worked for him. He wanted to avoid aids.
He probably wasn't het type anyway.

He pulled out the ductape, putting it on his mouth.
Mission complete.

Disaster averted!

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The tom was counting down.

His heart was out of control, and he had left his medication.
"Damage to my brain from the shockwave, burns...b-blunt force trauma, possibly partially def..minor fractures in tail. It's kinked. P-possible c-collatoral damage and m-mental t-trauma." He dipped his head to the sky to stop the nose bleed. There was a single, dramatic tear.

"I-I've n-never felt-t better..." he stammered, pale optics trailing over Forgivencrimes. He scooted back an inch. "The...the world is already grey to me a-anyways." There we go. The long awaited emo comment he had been puttinf off. Now seemed like the right time.

The paranoid tom rolled out of the way of her blood. There where so many illnesses you could contract from mixing blood.
"K-keep your distance n-now! S-safty b-bubble. B-but...can I- h-help y-you?" he echoed softly, unable to tear his teary gaze away from the nurse. He was making sure she wasnt a threat.

She seemed like a goddamn threat. Everything did. Even Trojan.

//MOBILE

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Oh...Oh funky bullshrimp. Did he do this?
Lifting a shaky bandaged paw, he conjured his first aid kit. Someone had to be the bigger cat here. He had been crushed by a piano earlier that day, so he hoped his shakiness wasn't an inconvenience to the smol nurse. "A-anything..I-I can d-do to h-help...?" his voice was below a whisper now.

He had the worst luck on the planet. Of course she would start crying. Dispite his shaky, trembly body, and scardy demenor...he was one of the stronger spirits. One of the braver ones in the pack. This was what was left after years of mental deterioration in the padded cell. Sometimes though, his mental willpower shone through the cracks.

Not that he'd ever revert to his old reckless heroic self. That was laughable. Plenty of body swaps and tortures and brain washing sessions after that, he was the paranoid and selfish survivalist we all knew and loved.

"C-can I-I touch t-the wound?"

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Called it.
Oh hell.

"Pass."

The survivalist had to agree though. If he was going to do it, he'd want to do it with Forgiven. Do it right the first time. Aha! But feels got in the way and he avoided all eyecontact, and scooted behind the next animal to post.
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