I used to do stuff like this all the time but it been a while. People might not be down but let's give it a go.

I got 1k Candy Corns for the winner 

As the image says... get your self looking how you want in the surgeon and tell a story about it. 

Include the elements I said in the image. 

I not sure i alt text working so if you cqnt aee it flick me a message and I will send you details.

Post your story here but 5pm Satueday game time, Then voting can start. I woll give 4 days for voting. 

Person with most votes wins the 1k Candy Corn.

Some guidelines: 

Dont be a cunt if the person's grammer not great. English isnt everyone's first language so dont be a cunt and bot every modo finds school a place that works for them so for fucks sake dont be an ass if people's writing not how your uptight ass would like it. Grammar nazus fuck off.

I all good with shit talk but please dont over run the thread with stupid drama. I got no tolerance.

I cant stop people using Ai to help with their writing.  So I'm not gonna police that. 

Dont write a fucking novel. Keep it tight.

Let"s give this a go. If itt goes okay... i got an idea for raiding party bingo x 

.

Hello, Ms Mentor Hanako, are we allowed to replace one of the keywords, for example dizzy dildo for something else 😆

Common now I now you bois all love the Dizzy 😏

Marnie was born wrong on purpose, but she learned early who to pray to.

In the Prisonblock, faith is currency. Hers was **Albino**...not a man, not a god, but a principle with a pulse. Big-dicked savior of the Disciples of Dongs, Albino is said to appear in trees(Threes?), always watching, always measuring, binoculars raised like judgement. Marnie learned the chants by heart. Survival demands ritual.

The Horse came during intake: white-eyed, steam-breathing, hooves echoing where hooves shouldn’t exist. Some inmates swore it was Albono’s messenger. Others stopped talking entirely. Marnie fed it sugar packets, rotten cheeseburgers and secrets.

The Dizzy Dildo was the holycontra-band; spinning, humming, passed cell to cell until it became myth. Marnie kept it balanced on her fingertip during prayers. Momentum is truth. Stillness is a lie. THE CAKE IS A LIE

When the lights died (on purpoise) Marnie followed the Horse through bent bars and broken rules, chanting Albino’s name like a lockpick.

She doesn’t preach now. She just watches.

Judges......

If you feel observed in places observation makes no sense----

that’s not paranoia.

That’s Marnie, still faithful.

# ALL HAIL BINO

(It's not simping, it's religious observance. Just saying........ )

All hail Albino 👀

I will post these days also)

Margaret's fingers trembled as she crushed the pills into a fine powder on the kitchen counter, the fluorescent light buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. Her boyfriend, Jake, was passed out on the couch, his snores rattling the trailer walls. He'd come home reeking of cheap whiskey again, his fists leaving fresh bruises on her arms. "You're nothing without me," he'd slurred before blacking out. Tonight, she decided, would be the end.

She'd been using for months—oxy, fentanyl, whatever she could score from the dealers down by the tracks—to numb the pain, to float away from the hell he'd built around her. The high made the world spin, colors bleeding into each other like a bad acid trip. But tonight, she ground extra into his beer, enough to stop his heart. Attempted murder? No, justice. She stirred it in, watching the foam bubble up, then placed it by his hand. He'd wake thirsty, like always.

As she waited, her mind wandered to Bucktrap, the crazy old coot who'd wandered into town last week. Mentally ill, they said—schizo, talking to ghosts and shadows. He lived in a rundown barn on the outskirts, with a swaybacked horse named Thunder that he claimed was his spirit guide. Margaret had met him while scavenging for scraps, and in his delirium, he'd gifted her a bizarre contraption: a dizzy dildo, he called it. "Spins like a top," he'd giggled, demonstrating how the battery-powered thing whirred in circles, vibrating so wildly it made your head swim. "For when life ain't dizzy enough." She'd laughed it off, stashing it in her bag like a talisman.

Jake stirred, groping for the beer. He chugged half before his eyes widened, clutching his chest. "What the fuck, Maggie?" he gasped, staggering toward her. She backed away, heart pounding, but he didn't drop like she'd hoped. The dose wasn't enough—or maybe he was too mean to die easy. He lunged, slamming her against the wall, his breath hot and ragged.

Panic surged. She kneed him in the groin, grabbed the dizzy dildo from her bag, and jammed it into his eye, the spinning tip grinding against his socket. He howled, blood spurting, giving her just enough time to bolt out the door.

The night air was crisp, stars blurring from her own lingering high. She ran toward Bucktrap's barn, lungs burning. Thunder neighed as she approached, Bucktrap emerging from the shadows, his eyes wild under the moonlight. "The ghosts said you'd come," he muttered, helping her onto the horse without question. "Ride, girl. Ride far."

She kicked Thunder's flanks, the horse galloping into the darkness, leaving Jake's curses fading behind. Bucktrap waved, a mad silhouette, as Margaret clung to the mane, the world spinning like that damn dildo—dizzy, free, and finally her own.

Last edited by Margaret 11 hours ago

Why did I laugh?

This is great, Margaret! Love it!

Omg glorious... bucktrap is a name i not heard in a long long time lol

@MarnieJ: I'm so happy that you liked it @hanako: Thanks ;P Bucktrap was my mentor at the beginning when I started to play PB...

Last edited by Margaret 5 hours ago