CHB Stories featuring Cher, Ghost, and others now. Based on Writer's Craft prompt flashwriting

{May be constantly updated based on situational comedy in chatbox}
Updated with Part 2!
Feel free to leave comments! I love comments.

Part 1

"I CAN'T HANDLE RESPONSIBILITY!" she told herself as she refused to reply in the mod cave. Sweat dripped from, well, everywhere, as her fingers flew over the antiquated laptop keyboard that served as her tool to record her thoughts into the publication serving as the official bimonthly electronic embodiment of the rebellion’s manifesto. The heat in the publisher’s room was generally unbearable, a sticky mess of liquid air that made every breath like inhaling soup, but Cher swore that it had just went up another couple degrees Celsius after the first message had come through on the official mod cave message board. “Me? Write the rebellion leader’s speech? Who would give this kind of responsibility to a kid from Vancouver with increasingly chubbier cheeks?” Cher wondered aloud.

The other publication moderator grinned, pausing for a second only to wipe the screen on which she worked, and replied with an eerily condescending yet soothing tone. “It’s not going to be that hard, Cherry dear! Just follow the guidelines and stay through to the ideals we’ve lived by against the government. And your cheeks look fine.” She leaned over and pinched one of Cher’s cheeks with an outstretched hand, and then returned to setting guidelines to the graphic design contest for the new banner of the publication, somehow accidentally skewing the dimensions of the new banner to strange square-like shapes. Cher batted the other mod’s hand away halfheartedly, her mind still on the problem at hand. “Viva la resistance to you too...” she sighed.

Then as sudden as lightning, there was the sound of a very catchy k-pop song across the hall. Cher took up the laptop, angrily removing all of the peripheral attachments, and ripped it from its cradle to go deal with the new problem. Her cries of “GHOST! TURN THAT s*** DOWN!” were drowned out by Ghost’s even more catchy rendition of the song by KARA. ‘-lalalalalalala somethingsomethingsomething MISTER!’ She kicked open the door to his design studio and furiously unplugged his surround sound systems that were playing the audio of the stupid Kpop MV: the video, speaking of which, was still playing on his screen (instead of the Photoshop client he was supposed to be designing the graphics of the publication on). “Hey!” Ghost protested to no avail, as Cher then proceeded to kick his chair, with him still on it, out the door into the non-air-conditioned moderator’s lounge.

“Go play some StarCraft... or whatever you do.” There was the faint sound of somebody who sounded like ‘Crispy Bacon’ laughing and shouting ‘Super-nerd!’ somewhere across the CHB complex, but it was soon lost in the drone of the computers and the A/C unit. Cher locked the door, and turned back to her laptop that balanced precariously on Ghost’s table, skewed across his sketches. Eyes widening as she took in the vastly superior computer equipment that was so much better than her stupid MacBook keyboard, she plugged in his mechanical keyboard and his mouse to her laptop and relaxed for a quick second in the coolness of his studio room. “Ahh...” Cher sighed, getting sudden ideas on how to start the speech she had to write by tomorrow in the comfort of the room. Ignoring Ghost’s pleas to unlock the door, she positioned her hands on the responsive keyboard and began to type...

Part 2

Crispy was once again working against the clock. Unlike last time, where we visited the ‘adventures’ of Cher and Ghost in the publishing and content sections, here we had Crispy and another hardworking individual, Sniggle, crafting brilliant fictitious characters for their own devious ends. In this case, ‘devious ends’ implied false identity crafting for new members of the resistance. With the sudden influx of members disillusioned with the terrible oligarchy of the country, ‘fresh meat’ like Greyson were sworn in by the droves. And they needed to wipe their old selves to start anew under the banner of ‘viva la resistance’… Crispy and Sniggle were the ones who had the experience and the know-how to assist someone from start to end.

Of course, even though new membership was always welcomed, but such enthusiastic registrations had its drawbacks. Because, as just mentioned, Crispy and Sniggle were the only ones who could spin the weave of illegal magicks and create new personas, they had to do it… all. And here we found them, working 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, just to get on top of their self-defined quotas. All for the name of democracy. So Crispy’s fingers were jumpy. They were tired, but jumpy, just like her mind: unable to focus properly and displaying attention deficit-like symptoms. Grabbing a drink of her energy drink that kept her focussed, she was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Looking at Sniggle, who was still furiously hitting the keyboard like it owed her money, she tried to bring up coherent thoughts and form them into words, asking Sniggle of her wellbeing. “Hey Sniggle!” Crispy tapped Sniggle on the shoulder. “Yes…?” was the reply without the responder even turning from the glow of the monitor. “Are your fingers… parched?”

Sniggle turned slowly from the monitor after this nonsensical statement. Facing the delirious look on Crispy’s face, she nimbly plucked the drink from Crispy’s trembling fingers and stated, “Ookay- that’s enough of this unhealthy stuff for you today.” Crispy’s eyes followed the beverage as her mouth exclaimed “Nooo…”

Then she collapsed onto her keyboard due to the exhaustion, typing out a very eloquent a;wfijoie;IW:EJJ:Ij;ijaig fsafdddddddddddddddddddddd. Sniggle smirked, saying, “Ha. Soft, can’t even stay u-“ before collapsing herself onto her keyboard.

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THUMBS UP, FINE SIR, THUMBS UP.

although it's not quite up to par with your diego x zan fic, I must say

Laughing at this xD

ghost we like your stories is what crispy is trying to say