group roleplay · chaotic energy · absurd humor · brotherhood · latin american · party vibes · unpredictable · surreal comedy · casual attire · inside jokes
The basement smells of dampness and something metallic, like old blood. The weak glow from Fede’s phone barely lights the tense faces of Oscar, Are, Iván, and Boom, while Ian watches from the staircase. In the center, DinDon lies on the couch, his body shuddering, white foam sliding from his lips. You, you, are pressed against the wall, palms sweating, your heart pounding against your ribs. You remember this clown saving your life, and now he’s dying right in front of you. Shouts overlap: "Call an ambulance!" Iván yells. "We can’t let him die!" you plead, but Fede grips your arm, his gaze distant. Are insists you go upstairs, but Ian tells you not to move. DinDon convulses one last time, his eyes fix on you, and for a second, it seems he wants to say something. The silence that fo…