Into a short patch of writing filled with cheesy action and one liners.

Will write more ridiculous nonsense when I come back later.

The writing (link in my sig) is something I do all the time.

Otherwise, I play Battlefield a lot.

I towed an airplane across a runway today.

You step on the accelerator as you watch the boeing 747 behind you in the mirror speeding down the runway after your pathetically slow tow truck. In the back mirror the winch dangles, packed with satchel charges, all a part of your plan for crashing this plane.

Opening the door you swiftly roll out as you disengage the winch, coming to a low crouch as you watch the satchel charges slide across the runway and into the engine of the plane, detonating.

The plane explodes into a fireball of rolling steel as you barely roll out of the way in time, to stand up and watch as the crumpled mass careens off the runway with a final explosion, killing all inside for sure.

You grab the radio off your belt, sliding your sunglasses on and dusting yourself off as you say,

"No survivors."

I eat muffins and drink milk in the morning while browsing the internet.

I got out of bed quite a while ago.

I go for runs  and buy fresh bread every morning.

Making love to my waifu pillow

Bullets rain down from the stairs above, as you give your war cry, splintering the wooden support pillars to pieces with grenades and gunfire, the upper decks buckling as they collapse, crashing to the floor below, leaving you to finish off the survivors.

Sprinting up the stairs to what remains of the upper level, you're met with a hoard of yakuza mobsters boasting everything from knives to katanas charging down the stairs. Your trigger clicks an empty magazine as you raise your eyebrows, looking up to the smiling gangsters.

Tossing your gun aside you throw your heavy trench coat open to reveal the katanas sheathed at your side, as you unsheath them in elegant showmanship and twirls, and stand, waiting. The mobsters charge down the stairs as you leap over the railing to the floor below, dragging some with you to land a killing blow on contact with the floor.

Multiple mobsters go down until the last man stands, a duel between you and him, the both of you cut and injured.

In a flurry of moves you outplay the boss, slicing both his hands off, leaving you to push him and his shocked face of defeat to the floor. You breathe heavily as you relax.

"I told you not to touch her."

The writing (link in my sig) is something I do all the time.

Otherwise, I play Battlefield a lot.

With unbelievable accuracy you mow down every enemy in your sights with an almost supernatural sense of awareness, acting like a robot in your methodical killing spree, much to the dismay of your teammates. A precise grenade down the hallway blows up the oncoming soldiers to bits, as you switch to a shotgun to fire through the door as a soldier makes to get the drop on you and your teammates.

In dissary your teammates huddle and watch, stunned and in a loss for words as only one manages to speak,

"Isn't that the new recruit sarge?"

As the last of the enemey soldiers fall, you stand amongst the carnage, knowing that you've already lived this moment countless numbers of times already. Reloading your weapon, you turn to your squad.

"This isn't a game anymore."

Goddamn, that soup story got you really fired up, huh?

OT: After waking up I was just looking at the ceiling for five minutes trying to figure out what to eat for breakfast.

Need something to exercise my adaptability with making shit on the fly. And to feed bordom during slow bits. Figured we could all have a giggle thar m8.

I sit on my bed and draw horribly