O, Signage of Truth and Virtue! Enter into Our Swoledom: Enter into Our Hearts!

[raced_god]

Who: Max, Captain Falcon, you?????
What: Hanging posters. Maybe some other stuff. Maybe whatever you want.
When: Week of April 21st.
Where: Around campus and also the locker rooms I guess.
Warnings: Swolitude. Tiny towels. Man talk.



The posters have sprung up overnight. Tacked to bulletin boards, plastered on lampposts--anywhere that can feasibly hold a flyer, the posters are there. The question, then, is where are they coming from? Who is putting them up?

The answer is perhaps obvious. If one pays attention, it is not difficult to find one Max Powers around campus with a stapler, one Captain Falcon following him with a stack of flyers.

One can only imagine the things that run through his head. I've saved the universe, he thinks to himself. I am the greatest racecar driver that ever lived, he thinks, with every clack of Max's stapler. I own islands.

And yet

And yet, dear reader, there they are.

Comments

The Appearance of Horror! A Visage Befouled! Tremble, Ye Mighty, at my Rage!

[needsmorebiceps]

"WHO DID THIS?" Max asked angrily, staring at the wall where this was posted, as if the wall was going to reply to him. "WHO DREW ON THIS FLIER?"

[raced_god]

"Max, we hung like...a million of these things."

Literally a million, not that Falcon had been counting, or anything.

"It's fine."

My Indignation Knows No Bounds: Feel the Power of my Pastry Rage!

[tank_rockarms]

"But look at that, somebody drew, is that a hat? A hat on me? And what are crumpets?" said Max, still indignant and upset about it all. "What if somebody does this to all of them? Then we'll have to redo them. We spent forever on this! What are crumpets even supposed to be?"

What. Are. Crumpets.

[raced_god]

"It's one poster, we put up a ton, they're not going to be able to draw on all of them."

Falcon took a good look at the defaced flyer.

"Crumpets are--it's like an english muffin."

not here

[drawin_on_trees]

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

Empty Calories, Empty Promises! Leave Us, O Foodstuff of Empty Dreams!

[tank_rockarms]

"Empty carbs," said Max. "That's terrible."

[raced_god]

Falcon shrugged. "Maybe if you eat them all the time. One or two isn't going to hurt."

But he knew there would be no reasoning with Max on the subject of empty carbs.

My Body is My Temple! Only the Swole May Enter!

[tank_rockarms]

"I watch my macros," said Max. "And maybe if I'm tryin' to gain, I could fit one or two in, but I don't want guys thinkin' that I eat crumpets all the time; it sends a bad message."

The worst message.

[raced_god]

"No one's going to think you eat crumpets, Max."

A Flurry of Text: A Heated Discussion! Enter Into My Conversation?!?

[tank_rockarms]

"If that guy draws on all of the posters, they might."

[raced_god]

"Max, you didn't even know what they were."

My Words are as an Iron Compact: My Ideas as a Steel Grip!

[tank_rockarms]

"Other guys probably know what they are."

[raced_god]

"Come on," he said, shaking his head and thinking of the best way to steer the conversation away from Max's apparent crumpet complex. "We've been hanging posters all day. I'm hitting the showers."

Is this the Log? Is this the Thread? Will the Flesh of all Men be Poured out Here?!?

[bluetanker]

"Carryin' around a stack of fliers wore you out, did it?" Max asked impishly.

yes.

[raced_god]

Falcon rolled his eyes from behind his sunglasses, choosing not to take Max's bait.

"I'm hungry, and I want to grab a shower before I go home and sleep with my girlfriend."

You know. Girlfriends. How was Sasha anyway, Max?

We're not talking about that.

[tank_rockarms]

"Alright, you need to borrow some shower stuff, or you got your own at the school?" said Max, purposefully not talking about some other things.

[raced_god]

"No, I'm good. I keep some stuff in a locker."

You know, for those days of early morning jogs and not wanting to smell like BO in class. SO THEY WERE OFF, to the mystical land of the locker room, where Falcon extracted said shower caddy from the aforementioned locker. He looked at Max expectantly as if to ask if he, too, planned to hit the showers.

No homo.

[tank_rockarms]

Max was already mostly naked, save for his boxers. He also kept shower things in the locker room, in case he forgot to shove clean things in his duffel bag.

Zero homo.

[raced_god]

Having surely done this many times before, Falcon was mostly unsurprised and instead of acknowledging the fact that one second Max was clothed, and the next he was mostly naked, the Captain just headed for the nightmare of open shower space.

It was at this point that he, too, stripped down until he was in naught but a tiny towel.

[tank_rockarms]

Max had placed his boots up against a row of lockers, where he kept his regular clothes. He knew that nobody was going to touch them, because if they did, he'd smash their face in.

Max had a rather large towel wrapped around his midsection that, for all intents and purposes, acted like a tiny towel, as he carried a bottle of soap and another of shampoo into the shower area.

There they were. Open showers. Tiny towels. Imminent nudity.

[raced_god]

falcon whipped his dick out

[tank_rockarms]

Max brought his Special Forces out of reserve.

[raced_god]

Thanks, Max.

This was not, however, the first time these men had partaken of open shower space together, nor would it be the last. Falcon was mostly unfazed, as he was generally much more preoccupied with the size of Max's inhuman upper body.

How, he thought to himself. Why.

[tank_rockarms]

Dedication is how. Three puberties was why.

Max, meanwhile, was thinking about things Falcon could do to improve his lats.

"You do seated rows more than once a week?" Max asked.

[raced_god]

"Yeah," he answered, squirting a generous amount of manly shower gel into his open palm. "When I feel like it."