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midgardianweasley · 3 years

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Build-a-bear adventures

Build-a-bear adventures.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A top trained assassin, her girlfriend, and a build-a-bear workshop, what better way to spend a day off.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Agonisingly fluffy.

I was planning on posting angst, but, decided on a fluff instead<33

“But babe. Babe. Babe.” You poked your girlfriend, fully aware that with every prod, you were only contributing to the headache worthy eye rolls she had been giving you for the past hour. You were joking, of course you were, she knew that, but she also knew that it was possible you were about to be single in 0.2 of a second if you didn’t stop poking her.

With a sarcastic smile and a deep breath, she turned her head towards you, momentarily stopping your movements as you returned a sickeningly sweet smile back.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think you understand.”

“I do understand.”

“This is life or death.” You spoke with a poker face, a weak attempt to try and make your point valid.

“I think that may be exaggerating just a little bit honey.” She chuckled lightly at your tone and the way you moved in your spot on the sofa, now having your legs crossed in front of you, hands enthusiastically moving in front of you.

“No. No, see, you don’t understand! We need to do this!”

“Is my unconditional love not enough?”

“No.”

“Ouch.” She dramatically placed her hand on her chest, a smirk plastered onto her face as she watched you rile yourself up with every sentence.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean that, your unconditional love is more than enough, and while I unconditionally love you too, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a necessity.”

“Like the ones from the jungle book?”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back as the assassin teased you.

“Baby, please!” You moved once again, now clambering onto her lap with your hands interlocked behind her neck, your faces mere inches away from hers. Her hands immediately went to your waist to steady you, pure energy coursed through your veins as you tried to convince Natasha to go ahead with your idea and she wasn’t certain you wouldn’t fall off of you if she didn’t hold you down.

“You seriously want to?”

“Yes.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Instead of cuddling in bed with movies?” Her eyebrows raised in question, not faltering as she watched you pretend to ponder, stroking an imaginary beard on your chin.

“Yes.” You smiled, your inner child shining through.

Knowing she wasn’t going to win, she sighed gently, running a hand through your hair and giving you a quick kiss on your temple before tapping your thighs to signal for you to stand up.

“Alright. Get ready and we’ll go.”

“Really?” You squealed, clapping your hands together as you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“Really. Now hurry and get your shoes on, we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

She watched with nothing but adoration as you whizzed off to get ready to leave, swearing that she’s never seen you move so quickly in her life. Despite her playful protest, she walked over to the kitchen counter to pick up her car keys, swinging them around her pointer finger as she walked over to the doorway of the compound living room.

‘I can’t believe I'm doing this.’ She thought.

Although she’ll deny it to anyone that asks, she’s absolutely whipped for you.

“I’m ready!” Your voice called out, encouraging Natasha to shrug her leather jacket on and walk towards her smiling girlfriend, taking her hand as they walked out together with content smiles on their faces.

‘Let’s do this.’

_______________________

It didn’t take long to arrive at your destination, your eyes immediately drew themselves to the store windows filled with stuffed bears in a variety of different outfits, some bears were dressed up to fit a theme, some bears were characters from loved movies, some were just bears in dungarees.

That’s right. You’ve managed to bring a trained assassin to a build-a-bear workshop. Why?

To get matching bears.

You looked towards Natasha, a huge grin on your face, only faltering slightly as you were met with her hands and forehead on the drivers wheel. You tugged on her sleeve, ignoring her disagreement, her head not leaving the wheel, but turned to face you.

“Stop being silly, c’mon, you’re looking forward to it! I know you are!”

“Babe. We’re parked outside of a teddy store.”

“Exactly! It’s fun, you’re excited, I'm excited, let’s go!”

You didn’t hesitate to open your car door, jumping out of the car and shutting the door behind you, the redhead not far behind you as she once again took your hand, reminding you how lucky you are that she loves you. Your response was a simple kiss on her cheek, a small blush following shortly afterwards.

“You’re cute.” You pinched her cheek.

“Yeah yeah, let’s go get our bears.”

_______________________

“So, that’s both of your bears stuffed, do you guys want to put voice boxes in them?” The kind staff member asked the pair of you.

You glanced towards Natasha, silently asking if she’d like one or not. She gave you a brief smile before looking back at the woman helping you with your bears.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” She winked at you before following the woman over to another station within the store. There were rows and rows of different shapes and coloured voice boxes to choose from.

You had the option of choosing a pre-recorded sound, like animal sounds or a bunch of different ‘i love you.’ in different voices. You didn’t mind what voice you had, honestly, you would’ve been content with an ‘i love you’ from Elsa at this point. However, you saw your girlfriend make a beeline for the ones that you record your own message into.

“You’re gonna do your own one?” You asked, moving over to stand beside her.

“Nope. I’m making one for yours.” She said proudly, holding two of the small items in her hand, holding it out for you to take one. You couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken at her words. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done with someone else, and to think she wasn’t even that eager to come in the first place. You knew she’d have fun.

Taking the small blue speaker from her hand, you were instructed to press the button on the back of the plastic, hold it down to speak, and release it when you were finished, but it can only be a short message. The both of you tucked your bears under your arm, bringing the box to your mouth and cupping it so that it would come out loud and clear, and so the other couldn’t hear what you were saying.

Once your messages were done, you handed each other the speaker to place in the paw that had a ‘press me’ sign sewed into it. The woman ensured it was inserted correctly before taking them elsewhere to be sewn up, leaving you both to look at the racks of tiny clothes hung on the wall.

It was almost as difficult as choosing clothes for yourself, there were too many options, and every single one was adorable. How did literal children do this?

“Please tell me you can’t decide on an outfit either.” The Russian spoke from beside you, her gaze focused on the fabrics, styles and patterns in front of you.

“It’s easier trying to take a pop tart off of the demi-god at home than trying to pick a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for a stuffed animal. What the hell?” Your arms gestured to the wall in front of you, exasperated as you tried to decide whether you wanted the blue jeans or black.”

“Hi guys, here are your bears, just letting you know, there’s also some dresses over there if you want to check them out.” The woman smiled, watching as you and Natasha shared a glance of horror.

The two of you were gonna be here for a while.

______________________

Finally, you and Nat had dressed both your bears. You chose a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket for yours, and Natasha had chosen a Y/F/O. It appeared as though each of you had made ‘mini me’s’ of the other, and they seemed pretty damn accurate too.

After successfully creating and dressing your bears, it was time to name them, pay, and then you could both go home and relax. You had no idea building a bear could be so exhausting.

Both you and Natasha had to pick a name. You thought it over, whereas Nat had just rushed right in, choosing to call her bear ‘honey.’, the nickname she always reserved for you. Gripping your bear tightly, you observed the birth certificate being printed out, the name, the owner’s name and the date clearly written in bold, black letters. You could’ve sworn you saw Natasha’s eyes light up when she was handed the sheet of paper.

“What about you, miss?” The woman asked, ready to type in whatever name you gave her. Glancing behind you quickly, you caught the eye of your girlfriend behind you, immediately knowing what to call it.

“Snoopy, please.”

You heard one loud and short laugh erupt from Natasha’s lips, her hand shot to cover her mouth, not intending to be so disruptive when she heard what you had called it.

‘Snoopy’ is the name of a cartoon character, which was probably what people would think you named the bear after. In reality, it wasn’t that at all.

When you first met the team, you were informed of what everyone’s roles were and how they contributed to the group. There were supersoldiers, scientists, a god, all different kinds of people, including the incredibly attractive spy. When you went on your first mission, she had to hack into a computer to retrieve some stolen data, but took her time to also look at some other things they had on there too, just to kill time.

The first words you said to her on that mission that wasn’t to do with what direction you were running in, was ‘Alright, hold off Snoopy, you can do that in your spare time, hurry up.’, and at first she was annoyed with the nickname, claiming she wasn’t snooping, nor does she ever ‘snoop’, but she soon took it in her stride. It was still a running joke between the pair of you 2 years down the line, and you never let her forget it.

“Nice name, babe.” She coughed, unable to fully settle down from her laughing fit.

“Why, thank you! Yours isn’t so bad yourself.” You spoke as you blew her a kiss that she grabbed in thin air and pretended to shove into her jean pocket, earning a small shake of the head before you took your printed certificate and went to purchase the bears.

_______________________

Once you got back to the compound, the both of you were completely shattered, unable to keep your eyes open to watch some TV before bed. Eager to get some sleep, the two of you just ended up changing into your pyjamas, following your shared night routine before collapsing onto your bed.

You lay beside her, still able to smell her perfume after so many hours, the scent making your eyelids feel like rocks. Grabbing your bear, you put it in between you, Natasha doing the same thing, before snuggling up close together under the covers. She reached over to put some fallen hair behind your ear, smiling gently at you as she did so, the gesture lazily returned.

“Thank you for suggesting today, baby. I really enjoyed myself.” She whispered, a murmur of agreement following her words.

“Thank you for taking us Natty, I had fun.” You mumbled with closed eyes, sleep quickly taking over.

“Get some sleep, my love.”

You nodded once before responding. “G’night Nat.”

“Goodnight baby.”

And that was you, out like a light.

Natasha reached over to give you a kiss on the forehead as her final goodnight, not realised that she’d leant on the teddy in the process, only noticing when she heard your voice in a non sleepy state.

“I’m madly in love with you, Romanoff.” She heard you laugh, followed by an excited “I’m done!”, obviously you forgot to let go of the button after you recorded the initial message, but it had made it even more special. She couldn’t help but adore you with every bone in her body.

You weren’t awake now, but when you were, she hoped to see your reaction when you listened to her message in your bear, the words spoken in Russian, but you’d heard them before, so you’d definitely know what it meant.

“Moye serdtse tvoye, lyubov' moya.” (My heart is yours, my love.)

She was right.

She’s absolutely whipped.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @eilarch @natashaswifey @lostandsearching @wandaromanova @pottahishotasf @d14n4ol @xxromanoffxx

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bluekayanite · 4 years

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Comments/theories: In Dreams - Homeworld Bound

So I kind of missed the SU:F updates for a bit. ^_^; That said, I'm caught up now, and have some misc. comments that I figured I'd share... before the next eps or two comes out. XD;

...That said, I was actually working on this when I'd heard that Homeworld Bound was out already. -.-; It's on XFinity Stream, at least - and I suspect other streaming services - so I consider it "officially released." I've since adjusted to implement the new info. However, I'm making the comments in an ep-by-ep structure, so if you want to avoid spoilers, you can easily stop once you get here. =3

I'd also like to note that this one's more rambly than usual, so prepare yourself for rambles. XD

EDIT: Some adjustments, mostly additions. EDIT2: Couple more little deets. EDIT3: Few more MAJOR deets. XD;

Just a quick note: my current, primary theory is that, even with everything that seems to be glaringly obvious, White also has the power to alter Gems' memories and such, and Rose was not truly Pink Diamond (or at least, in a sense, not THE Pink Diamond). Lately, I basically think that she may be a sort of a hybrid, or at least that Pink put a lot of herself into Rose... lately I've even suspected that it might be even more literal than I've previously noted... as in, Pink may have prepped some healing tears and broken off a shard of herself... or something. ._.;;;

But yeah, I figured I'd note this in advance because, well... I realize it sounds crazy. It's going to be mentioned, so I ask for a bit of open-mindedness - or at least a willingness to entertain the idea, even if you think it's wrong (and I don't blame you if you do). Frankly, I wouldn't be surprized if a lot of people would have already closed this post before getting to this sentence. (That said, if you're still here, thank you!)

With that out of the way, let's get going!

In Dreams

Okay, so Crewniverse was definitely being self-aware, and using meta-humor. XD

I've commented here before that previous eps had a building feeling of listlessness and whatnot. My sister also has commented (not in a place I can link XD; ) that the opening theme gets more and more jarring with each episode. The both of us think that odds are pretty good that they'll switch to using something the reprise version of the theme. XD; ("Here we are in the future, and it's wrooooong!")

...That said, while things have been getting intense (not to mention REAL!), I do appreciate that we seem to be moving out of "boredom" eps. XD;

The dreams-being-broadcast thing is more-than-likely a bit of setup for later story points. I'm thinking "Emergency broadcast."

On an entirely different note, I like the confirmation that Peridot has green eyes. =3

Been sort of a headcanon of mine for awhile now. ^_^

Also, is it just me, or is Peridot getting taller? 83

Anyway, it's nice to have a bit of lighthearted funtimes in the midst of all the seriousness that has been going on. =3

Bismuth Casual

So... those toilet paper jokes certainly ended up being at an ironic time, right? XD;

Anyway, one of the things that stuck out to me is how increasingly obvious Pearl's obliviousness is.

One of my long-standing theories is that Rose saw Pearl more like a daughter, if anything... and didn't realize - or even have a clue that Pearl had a thing for her.

And I mean, really, if Pearl can't tell whether any human - or Gem - is into her, then how could she know for sure whether or not Rose did (or didn't)? Odds are she's just going by her memories... which I strongly believe to be unreliable, what with how many contradictions they have. ^_^;

Together Forever

(...Does anyone else keep hearing the old Pokémon song by the same name in their head? ^_^; )

...Okay, I'm gonna confess: it actually didn't occur to me that either Steven or Ruby was supposed to be "cute" until it was mentioned in Hit the Diamond and Sadie Killer. (I didn't count Andy saying it in Gem Harvest because I figured he had a family bias. ^_^; I mean, he did make a complete and abrupt 180 about the parts of his plane being recycled, once it was Steven who started using them.)

...Cuteness is in the eye of the beholder, I guess. XD;

I guess I can see how Crewniverse was going for "cute" with Steven... Still, about the only time I've considered "Steven" to be cute - visually or otherwise - was after that last bout of Ultimate Steven tag.

...Yeah, I think that the Gems did the puppy-dog eyes better than Steven did. ^_^; I mean, I would call Steven "sweet," "silly," and a number of other things. Just... "cute" isn't typically one of them for me. ^_^;

That said, there are moments when I think that Ruby is being cute. =3 One of them is when she RAEGING.

Another one is when she's being happy... especially when she's super-excited.

So yeah. =3 For me, it was pretty nice to see Ruby spazzing like that. It's also kind of nice to see Steven eating sweets again... even if it's for unfortunate reasons.

...yeah.

It's also nice to see R+S's new forms. =3

The headband is back! 83

(...Why hasn't there been a mention of Sapphire being cute? She seems like the most obvious choice. XD; )

On another topic... So it’s not just Pearls that can store stuff in their gems? o.O

Anyway, part of my theory is that [Pink is really trapped in the moon base's observation orb], which she can use to see some of what's going on. When Pink is watching, the moon might show up, and/or the sky might turn pink (usually around dawn/dusk) - the more intense either of these things are, the more intensely she's watching.

Looking back at when either of these happen, I've noticed that:

She seems to be a 'shipper

She particularly 'ships Steven + Connie

This ep certainly continues with that pattern. 83 Heck, I think that the extra lights on the horizon might even be from Pink - maybe even intentional on her part.

Even after the turn-down, the moon still showed, BRIGHTLY - at least until Garnet got there.

I also noticed the moon at the end of Little Graduation - in general, I'm getting an impression that Pink has been wanting to help Steven... but obviously, she wouldn't be able to.

However, that said, with the way things are looking, I think that she's going to get her chance, shortly... more on that farther down. =3

Side note: The glowstick-bracelet “ring” is a nice touch. =3

Other side note: JAM BUDS REFERENCE! 83

Also: Strawberry. =3

Also-also: it seems like Garnet actually does tend to give some pretty good love advice.

"Your soulmate is your compliment, not your missing piece. [...] Whatever hole there is in your life, Steven, I want you to understand that Connie - Stevonnie - won't be able to fill it." - Garnet, Together Forever

...Also-also, my suspicions about Garnet sorta being three people keep growing. XD;

...Incidentally, I’ve mentioned before that I think that Connie is probably ace and/or aro (though I didn’t know the latter term at the time).

Growing Pains

On the funny (at least to me) side, I noticed that Dr. Maheswaren checked for Steven’s heartbeat on his right side (which, ironically, would be the wrong side XD).

There actually is a genetic condition that can flip the positioning of the internal organs, though I’m pretty sure that it’s simply an oversight in this case. For one, Dr. Maheswaren shouldn’t think to check there unless she’d checked the usual positioning, first. For another... it’s actually not the only slip up in that shot; Steven’s gem has a hexagonal crown instead of the usual pentagonal one. (This happens a lot, especially on Quartzes.) The biggest thing, however, is that Steven actually does grab the left side of his chest later on.

But yeah, just some stuff that I thought maybe some other people might consider interesting. =3

Anyway...

So it's FINALLY established that Steven has PTSD... and appears to be having panic attacks. Frankly, for a long time, I was under the impression that nothing like this would ever come up. XD;;; Call me crazy, but in a weird way, this is kind of a relief for me. It makes things feel more genuine to me.

...Hmm... I wonder if part of why we haven't seen panic in other characters is because they're hiding their own PTSD? Maybe the reason why so many are just carrying on is as a sort of coping mechanism. Maybe the also don't want anyone to worry.

...Or maybe this is an effect of this being a cartoon. >.>; I mean, as much as I can see that Crewniverse is trying to touch on a lot of hard topics (and I appreciate that), we can only expect it to be so realistic. Plus, a good story needs a bit of balance to it - as nice as it is to see the worrying stuff, it needs a good balance, or else it tends to be overwhelming.

In particular, I've been reminded that SU:F does have a number of much-younger viewers - I think we need to bear in mind that they probably aren't likely to handle this stuff as well as the older audiences. ^_^;

But yeah, I'm definitely glad that at least there's something, and the reaction seems fairly realistic (at least as far as having a half-Gem character goes). Even the fact that there was a delay is fairly realistic... maybe a bit more of a delay than usual, but... I guess Steven is half-Gem?

Also: cartoon. XD;

And of course, it's really fascinating to see the medical aspect of Gems (or a lack thereof).

And of course, the sneaking in of an Amethyst-behavior joke. X3

Also: you can see Steven's chart in two of the transitions. 83

(Assuming Dr. Maheswaren got his height right... I’m actually admittedly jealous that he’s actually taller than me - especially since it looks to me like he should be shorter. XD; )

Also-also: I noticed that a lot of things that had nothing to do with Steven's life being in danger got referenced. ^_^; Granted, I'm sure they're still important to him, but I thought I'd still bring it up.

I also couldn't help but notice there being a direct reference to Adverse Childhood Experiences, which is an actual term. I suppose Steven's are unusual... but whatever the form, ACEs can still be pretty impactful. =/

...I do wonder if Crewniverse knows anything about Childhood Emotional Neglect. It's supposedly an even bigger impact than abuse and whether one recovers from it. That said, AFAIK it's lesser-known - even the term was coined less than a decade ago (2012, if I've got my dates right). It's mentioned on the list of ACEs... I think? But it's not very well defined there, so... it's hard to know.

At any rate, it definitely seems like a thing that could be a factor... more on that farther down.

Mr. Universe

It was nice to see Steven and Greg getting some bonding time in... even if it was short-lived. ^_^;

Can't help but wonder whether or not Steven's eating a veggie burger. XD;

Steven drooling in his sleep... it's been a headcanon/theory of mine that maybe Pink does that. X3

Okay, so maybe this is a cute picture of Steven... now that he's more grown-up. X3

Anyway, It's nice to learn some more about Greg's side of the family. Especially since - aside from the strictness - they really do seem like they're probably nice people.

I mean, for one, they still kept reminders of Greg - his stuff, pictures of the whole fam, and even his letters... even if they never opened them.

(...Is it just me, or does Greg's mom look an awful lot like Connie's?)

And based on their stuff, I think it's pretty likely that they at least have a gentle side... even if maybe they didn't know how to properly use it with Greg. XD; (Or maybe they're simply an appearance-conscious family. ^_^; ...Which is apparently considered a gaslighting type of parenting-style. =/)

In any case, I hope we meet them, later. =3 Maybe they've mellowed out... or maybe they will as soon as they meet Steven. X3

My sis pointed out that Dear Old Dad plays - as in, the song from the last ep Steven and Greg fought in. Only this time, it didn't end out well. ^_^; Quoth her, "That's some next-generation foreshadowing!"

But yeah, I can see why Greg might be so frustrated at his parents that he would want to change his surname. ^_^; ...And I can also see why Steven would be upset at Greg going as far as he did. =/ Pendulum effect: being so upset by one extreme that you go just as far into the other extreme, and it sounds like Steven paid for it. -.-;

This is part of what I mean by Childhood Emotional Neglect potentially being a factor... though in general, Greg's hands-off parenting style could very well fit in as a form of emotional neglect - parents who are just kind of buddies and try to give comfort on everything kind of avoid a lot of the issues, instead of teaching their kids how to deal with them, including on an emotional level. ^_^;

But yeah, the fact that Greg apparently didn't consider whether Steven might still want some of the usual aspects of childhood seems like it could also count. ^_^; At the very least, it's common for Well-Meaning-But-Emotionally-Neglected-Themselves parents to give their kids what they wish they had in childhood, without actually considering whether it's what the children themselves want.

It's also common for emotional neglect to be passed on through families in ways such as this, so... seems like it could be a thing.

Oh, and you know how Steven also had to be "the adult" for the Gems a lot? That also counts as CEN. XD; Heck, that link even mentions the need to care for others that Steven continues to struggle with.

The parts about Steven trying to hide his struggles would also fit in with CEN, though his knowledge of emotions - and vocabulary thereof - does seem to be pretty big. I can't help but wonder if CEN is something that's being inserted in more as a retcon, but wasn't planned at the beginning. I mean... CEN was just being figured out around the time that the original SU series came out, so it seems pretty unlikely that it was the original plan. I could see Crewniverse trying to work it in now, though.

...It's also possible that it's not really what they're going for and that it's sort of included by accident. XD; I mean, there's often more than one way to arrive at the same conclusion, even coming from the same set of information, at times.

But yeah, CEN is important to me, and it's nice to see that it might be a part of the show. =3

Fragments

Okay, so that first convo was chock-full of examples on what NOT to say to someone who’s panicking. ^_^;

And those are just a few of them. ^_^;

I think that this is probably foreshadowing, and/or a setup for something coming shortly. More on this farther down.

Anyway, I'm sure I'm not the only one who was thinking back to Why So Blue? XD;

(Or, belatedly, Strong in the Real Way.)

I do think Jasper has kind of a point about learning to control anger by using it. All-in-all, though, I think she's only about half-right. ^_^; The parts about using it solely in violence... yeah

I see Steven’s eating fish, again. =3

It’s also neat to see him chopping wood with his hands. X3

...Not to mention Jasper’s new helmet. 83

It looks to me like Pink might have noticed some training, or at least may have been looking around the area.

...I suspect that she doesn't know about all the details, though. ^_^;

Homeworld Bound

Okay, first off, I think that Garnet may have said the family thing for Future Vision reasons - probably related to what the Diamonds said, even if she doesn't know that.

And now that that's out of the way, I was really glad to see Spinel again. =3

It does seem a bit weird that she's around as tall as Steven when she was shorter than him in the movie.

And I'm pretty sure that Steven's gotten even taller since the movie. XD; Though maybe Yellow made Spinel taller...?

EDIT: I remembered that she probably wouldn’t be the first. Could be a pattern.

Anyway, I also like the confirmation that Yellow's and Blue's powers seem to be about affecting the forms of Gems, and their emotions, in general - I've made a little spreadsheet (vaguely) touching on stuff like that, before.

Also, Blue getting a full song of her own. Plus, the implications that Blue's powers are probably water-related. =3

(Who wants to try one of Blue's happy clouds? *raises hand* =D)

Not to mention Spinel doing the hammock hair thing. X3

*ahem* However... this is the second time one of the eps has felt like it's been full of Gems that are more-or-less hypnotised (the first one being Familiar). A little too happy and/or nonchalant, and a little too conclusion-jump-ish. =/ (Especially Yellow for that last one. XD; ) Steven's even pointed stuff like this this out.

Which... White acted also that way. If she really does have mind control powers, I think that this might be a sign that she's still using them, even on Blue and Yellow. ^_^;

Another thing that I think is odd is that the Diamonds were all taking initiative in doing good stuff. In the movie, it seemed pretty clearly like they were only doing good things in order to try and please Steven and get him to stay with them.

White in particular was still disgusted at the idea of thinking of others as “equal.” XD;

They were even willing to move to Earth, leaving all those hurt Gems behind, instead of trying to do anything for them. =/

And yet, despite all that, Spinel in particular felt a little too weird to me (somehow XD; ). A little too unconcerned about Steven's feelings, a little too relaxed and... blissful? ^_^; She actually handwaved the "embarrassing" issue of having tried to kill Steven.

This is the second time we've seen something like this. =/

In a way, maybe Spinel's a little too close to her original personality, in general - as in, maybe less "healed" and more "reverted." =/

I mean, it's only been... a few months? If I understand correctly? Difficult thoughts and such do not just evaporate like that - ESPECIALLY if they're more-or-less intrusive ones. =/

And a lot of the time, it seems like her voice and intonation is closer to what she had with her original personality. ...It does seem kind ambiguous, though I suspect that that’s on purpose. XD;

Here's what I think to be the kicker, though: you know the song she started singing when Steven asked how she stopped having vengeful thoughts?

It's the same song that Spinel said had said would NOT make everything better. XD;

"Just can it, won't ya?! You can't just make everything better by singing some STUPID SONG!" - Spinel, SU Movie

(Incidentally, I noticed that the moon actually did show up - rather obviously - during said song. Whoops. ^_^; It looks like Pink has probably seen Spinel’s “evil” form, after all.)

Also... Quite honestly, the way Spinel mentions not getting vengeful thoughts anymore makes her seem... "drugged" to me. ^_^;

Possibly-similarly... this line seems odd to me.

For Spinel to tell Steven that White's powers work in reverse, she'd have to know:

How White's powers worked in the first place

That Steven knows how White's powers worked in the first place

I mean, I guess it's not impossible that White's powers are/were common knowledge, but... I dunno. XD; It would have to mean letting Gems know that White could control them outright... and that White had used her powers on Steven's friends. ^_^; I guess it's also possible that this was told to Spinel as a way of trying to bond over/help with the "tried to kill Steven" thing but... yeah, again, I dunno. ^_^; If that were the case, it's possible that Spinel would mention it, rather than bursting out into song.

At any rate, I'm not ruling out mind-affecting as a possible reason for her knowledge.

So... yeah. I suspected that White acted the way she did when seeing Spinel because Spinel knew (or otherwise had) something that White wanted to be kept hidden. I kind of suspected that poor Spinel would get hit by White's powers pretty much right away, and to me, it looks like she did, and was placated a la mind-control. =(

Speaking of White... I'm guessing that the "pink-colored White" in the intro was actually Steven controlling her, or something. ^_^;

If so, then that's interesting twist on what's considered a "danger"...

...though that said, it looks like White managed to shed the pinkish tinge she had in the movie.

Now it seems to depend on the lighting, and is a fair bit fainter.

(Upper pic: purple. Lower pic: brown.)

So... that said, I wouldn't rule out that maybe she found a way to keep the pink from getting worse - heck, maybe that's even one of the reasons why she's letting Gems control her, briefly. Maybe it somehow keeps the pink from growing more saturated, or something.

So... yeah, while I think there's a good chance that the foreshadowed "Pink White" is already touched on, I'm not entirely ruling out that it might still be coming. I mean, the theory that I was going with was that [Rose's gemstone had a virus in it], that Pink made specifically for White. Possible circumstances to trigger the virus include:

Removing Rose's gemstone from whoever Rose’s child would be

Touching Rose's gemstone, in general

Trying to remove Rose from her gemstone - especially if from her child

Mind- and memory-manipulation on Rose's gemstone, in general

It's also possible that more than one trigger was programmed in.

Possible reasons for a virus include:

Trying to force White to learn empathy

Exposing White

In case the worst more-or-less happened

Prankage

Though yeah, if Rose's/Steven's gemstone really does have a virus in it, or something, I think odds are that White letting Steven control her is going to accelerate it. XD;

Also thought I'd note: while Spinel!White accurately reflects the colors of Spinel, Steven!White seems to better resemble Pink Steven than Pink Diamond, or Rose.

...Don't wanna dig up comparison pics, but I still thought I'd bring it up. XD;

Anyway, I can't help but wonder if there's some sort of deeper meaning to the scene with giant!Steven controlling little!White - like if there's something from Pink slipping in there, and her frustrations with whatever White did to her in the past.

I mean... Steven mentioned "everything" she did to him, and there were only flashbacks of stuff from Change Your Mind. Which... yeah, sure, a lot happened in a short period of time, but... I still wonder. ^_^;

Aaaand it's becoming pretty evident that whatever traces of Pink are in Steven are coming out pretty strongly.

...On another note, the softer "Pink" hairstyle that Steven is getting might be a hint that the more-solid, five-lump "Steven" style that Pink is sometimes shown with is not her actual style. ;3

(My personal belief is that her appearance in Jungle Moon accurately reflects what she looks like - everything else is probably tainted by memory-alteration a la White.)

...anyway...

My guess(es) on what's next

Okay, I was previously assuming that Steven would first fight the worm-thing (which I thought might have been a mutated Jasper, after getting all that essence-of-Diamond in one dose XD; ). I was also speculating about White having turned a much-more-intense shade of pink, accusing Steven of it, and a fight breaking out between the two (with a note that it might be a good thing that Steven's learned to better control his Diamond powers =D; ).

Now it’s looking like the “Pink White” may have already been covered... or maybe it’s still being foreshadowed. Hard to say at this point.

That said, I think there's still a good chance that White will still try to follow Steven for one reason or another, despite his plea not to. I mean, it looks like she may have genuinely been impacted by what happened with Steven controlling her... or at least terrified. XD;

She still asked him to wait, despite that.

Steven did leave his shoe behind, a la Cinderella. This could be a hint about someone following him and returning it to him. Maybe there'll be something about it fitting after he's calmed down? =3

Though... yeah. Maybe letting Steven puppet her will result in her turning pink and coming after him for it. Or maybe White will still try to follow out of more a compassionate reason - or just to “fix him, like she’s apparently done with so many other Gems XD - and Steven will try to keep her away.

In any case, I’m thinking that odds are that Steven will end up getting in a fight with What, and that it will end up being on Earth, at least at some point during the struggle. If so, I tend to imagine something like this happening:

If Pink observes a fight between the two, it might be enough for the moon + sky thing to trigger in broad daylight. If so, then the fact that there's someone on the moon who can turn the sky pink will be impossible to miss. XD Even if it's not a fight that does it, I think odds are good that something like that will be how Pink being up there would be revealed, as well as working as a quick explanation that the moon + sky color are actually important.

If something like that does happen, then I think that White will finally fess up about messing with Gems' memories + thoughts and imprisoning Pink in the orb. I mean... she'd basically be backed into a corner. It also seems like she's getting to a point where she'd consider telling Steven anyway - just maybe she'd freak out and back out first, and/or the sky would beat her to it. XD;

I've also considered that maybe Steven's powers would get strong enough that he could be contacted by Pink in his dreams, anyway - they're not mutually-exclusive, so maybe both will happen?

But yeah. There's plenty of evidence of a moon prisoner, and plenty of that evidence highly suggests that it's Pink. I know I always say this, but I think it's time - maybe even well-past-time XD; - for Pink to be released.

A few possible roles of Pink (plus rambles)

Think about it: just about everyone that Steven knows - or is close to, at least - has been failing him in one way or another. No one seems to know what's the best way to help him, or even fully understand just what exactly he might be going through - even White said that no one would be able to relate to him... but I don't think that's fully true.

Sure, maybe nobody could easily, and/or fully relate to the half-human thing, but I think there's a chance that, say, Lapis, Peridot and Bismuth could at least help with the "vengeful thoughts" thing.

But Pink, Pink could probably help with the powers, and maybe a few other things. I mean, they're probably her powers - or at least a variation of them. Heck, she may be even more powerful than Steven is. XD If anyone could help Steven get things under control, Pink can.

Heck, maybe Pink even knows how to help calm down somebody who’s having a panic attack - or at least knows how to help Steven with his panic. Given that nobody else seems to know about this, it seems pretty likely that it might be what Crewniverse is going for. =3 And hey... if nothing else, maybe it’s something she picked up just from watching the Earth for so long. (I mean... if she’s really been stuck for 5,000 years, odds are that she’s picked up on a few things. Not like she’d have an awful lot else to do, anyway. XD; )

I admit... it’d be a little extra cool to me since I’ve had the idea that it might be something that Pink would do. 83 Sort of a headcanon/fanfic idea that I never really got to or anything. XD;

But yeah, at this point, I think odds are good that Steven will more-or-less beg Pink to stay with him for awhile. XD

I mean... maybe they could ask Pink Pearl (I really don't like the name "Volleyball," sorry XD; ) about Steven’s powers, but I think she might still have too much trauma of her own over Pink's powers to really be able to help. ^_^;

...Though that said, I've suspected that White placated her, too. If her traumas can still show through... I think odds are good that others' traumas will end up resurfacing - and thus being addressed - too. =3

...But yeah, it seems like White's MO involved making everyone just forget about things, and/or suddenly become happy. ^_^; ...Another form of emotional neglect, I suppose.

I also it's possible that part of the reason why Steven is having trouble is because White did something to him. =/ I mean, if White really did remove whatever was left of Rose, then she may have removed an important part of Steven... and if she added something to him, it might be a big part of why he's so... unstable. -.-;

...Heck, maybe the reason why Steven's been getting white Diamond-pupils is because White did something to him. o.O Maybe that why Steven!White has them, too, despite Spinel!White having black pupils.

At any rate, maybe the real Pink could shed some light on that, too. ...And/or maybe White will fess up. XD; I think the latter is much, much more likely in this case, though.

I do think that, once Pink is released, it's likely to result in a lot of chaos, on account of Gems learning that things aren't how they thought they were - just one of many reasons why I think that White has still left her in there. ^_^; However, that said, maybe Pink could end up being a catalyst in bringing those problems to the surface, so that they can be addressed. XD;

But yeah. Overall, I think one of her roles would be in healing... just like with Rose, Steven, and their powers. I think she'd also be good for helping uncover the truth of what really happened, along with other things.

Could be ironic; it's Steven Universe: Future, but there might end up being a lot of looking at the past. Granted, maybe that's the point: look to the past to better understand the future. =3

#su:f #su:f theories #suf theories #rose quartz wasn't pink diamond #white diamond's mind control #theories

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chrisbbaegopayo · 5 years

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Hold Your Breath (Stray Kids: Stalker AU) ➻ Prologue

Genre: Thriller, Angst, Gore, Mystery, Suspense Characters: Stray Kids, OCs Word Count: 2.4k Warning: This story will contain elements of gore, on- and off-screen abuse, torture, mental illness, and stalking. It will feature themes that are not suitable for all ages, readers discretion is advised. Each chapter will have its own specific warning.

The story takes place in the main character's third year of university. The prologue will detail information before the story takes place.

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The day had gone completely how she expected—a roster of classes, school work, and downtime. Her mundane life, for lack of a better word, was ordinarily plain. When classes end, she would find herself in a deep pit of homework. When the weekends rolled by, and when all her school work had been done and filed, she would marathon her favourite movies on Netflix. Oftentimes, she would be in the company of her best friend, Jisung, and the two would tackle her long and seemingly endless list of need-to-watch television shows and films.

Her life was as ordinary as it could get, and she wouldn't have it any other way. The school year had started off without a hitch, and with her organized lifestyle, graduation didn't seem too far away nor impossible. Her first year at the university came as fast as passed, followed by her second year, which flew past her just as fast. She maintained her average all throughout her academic career and was an overall great student. She enjoyed her classes almost as much as her teachers appreciated her as a student.

However, what she didn’t account for was the introduction of random gifts that had found themselves in her locker that she rented, and although a kind gesture, the sender seemed quite persistent. She had never used any of the presents she was given and opened a couple before she left them inside her locker altogether. The first one arrived a year prior, during exams, at first, she thought it was her friends, but upon opening the presents, she quickly scratched that out considering how unrelated it was to her school life.

She also asked some classmates if they had seen the person who placed the presents in her locker, but no one had seen anything of the sort. After that, friends often teased her for it, all in good fun, of course. Supposed that she did laugh along with them, part of her felt a little unsettled by the entire ordeal. However, she chalked that up to mere paranoia and brushed it off.

Days had passed since she received her first present and for a long time, it had been radio silence. And then the week after that, she received another present. It seemed innocent enough, just lying there inside her locker, waiting for her to open it. She thought about it for a moment but decided against it. It would wait until she finished classes.

The present had been innocent enough like she had thought, and like the previous present that she had received, she made sure she never used it, preferring to keep it at the back of her locker. The present never harboured any malicious intent end it was just like any other present that people would receive, but the unsettling undertone of the presents bothered her nonetheless.

The presents just kept on coming every single week and she kept on having to open them and storing them in the back of her locker every week as it came. She never noticed a pattern in the present, until one day, one of the presents was accompanied by a letter.

It was the most unsettling letter she had ever received.

The content of the letter read as follows:

“You blew my mind ever since I laid my eyes on you. Some things need not be said, but I think it’s plainly obvious that I am very taken by you, your appearance, and your soul. But, as every gift I endowed you with goes unnoticed, untouched, and uncared for, it stands to reason that you don’t feel the same…

...but no matter, I’ll make you mine. But in the meantime, I’ll continue to shower you with gifts all the same, hopefully, you’ll come to love them as much as I love you.”

Every word seemed heavy in her mind, her heart pace quickened as she realized what she had been reading. It wasn’t just some regular letter from a secret admirer, this was written wÇith intent. She wasn’t sure whether the person who wrote this letter would act upon his words, but one thing was for sure, it wasn’t normal.

This guy wasn’t normal.

But at the same time, she didn’t need to invoke this guy’s ire just because of a hunch. Perhaps someone was pulling a prank on her, and decided to go with some really creepy prose. She wasn’t going to sit idly and let whatever happen just happen—that was how people die during creepy horror movies—she would be on alert, and at the same time, keep others from being involved in this. Plus, if her friends saw this, they would either report this or maybe tease her because, look, such bad prose. Who wrote this anyway? Someone obviously spent a little too long watching creepy stalker movies or something—although that would account to teasing the guy who wrote it, not really her—but regardless.

Hence.

She would put this at the back of her locker, like the rest of her gifts from him. She hoped that someone just randomly chose her as the victim of a bad prank and nothing more—trying to elicit a response from her. If it was, it was an elaborate one and hopefully, after this creepy letter, she would go about her normal life.

Little did she know that while she was a victim, this would be no prank, and the presents would just keep coming, as the letter suggested. Despite that, though, her life had been rather blissful, and the presents would only be limited to her school life. Everything else was still her sanctuary, and only she would know of the entire ordeal. She would still go about her every day seemingly unaffected by this new addition in her life because she didn’t know for certain whether it would develop into a problem she couldn’t handle.

Regardless, she never told anyone, not even her best friend. It’s her problem—no one else’s.

And true to the letter, the presents kept on coming, and coming, and coming. It bothered her and wore her down seeing her locked filled with presents every week. They weren’t cheap presents either, they looked like they might have cost the person a pretty dime or two—money that could have been spent on other things, not on her, knowing that she would never use them properly.

She decided to write her own little letter as a way to tackle the buildup of things she didn’t use. In which she told the sender to stop leaving her presents as it was a little too much—obviously, calling it a little seemed like an understatement as it was quite clear that the abundance of wrapped boxes because a major portion of what hogged up her space, leaving her with little room to maneuver through her own things previously-stored in there.

Hopefully, the person would get the message and let up the excessive gift-giving, and maybe even put an end to this entire silly ordeal—of course, only she would call it silly—she crossed her fingers and hoped for the best, as it really was the only thing she could do at this point.

She tore a page from her notebook and wrote, “whoever has been sending me gifts, please stop. While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s a little too much.”

She stared at the note she just wrote, and for a long time, wasn’t sure whether it would come off as strange or even rude. In the end, she contributed her anxiety to overthinking. She would leave the little note in her locker for next time the gift-bearer left something in her locker. She folded the note in half, and then in half again, and on the front-facing surface, she wrote, “to my anonymous gift-bearer.”

She felt a little silly about having to do this. It’s like she was asking for more interaction from the anonymous gift-bearer. However, what was done was done, and she wouldn’t twist herself into a mess thinking about it further. It was a step in the right direction, she hoped.

With that thought, she closed the door on her locker and then left. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a better day and she wouldn’t have to deal with a reply. Or more presents. Both would be great, together.

Her dubbed “anonymous gift-bearer” never got her note.

Her friends discovered her note the day after during one of their routine debriefing sessions in the mornings. The curiosity was almost immediate as she tried to stop her friends from taking it, but was unable to do so. There was a moment of silence and suspense after her friends glanced through the note, and she wanted to hide. The last thing she wanted to do was to make her problem everyone else’s problem.

Her friends looked up from the note, the concern deeply evident on their faces, and it wasn’t one of those superficial expressions—their deep disturbance embedded within the looks of concerns, to varying degrees spread across each other her friends’ faces. It was official, if she didn’t defuse the situation immediately, they would start some form of intervention. And she did not need an intervention at this point in time. She was never really that good with lying under pressure—she was worried that she would say the wrong things at the wrong time. If she knew what her friends were capable of, they’d hire bodyguards or something.

Okay, not that extreme. They would probably bug the door, put a hidden camera in there. But then again, none of them were ever tech-savvy enough to deal with this kind of thing.

That wasn’t the point here, obviously.

The bottom line was that she didn’t need her friends to become needlessly worried about something that might just turn out to be some stupid prank that some kid did for fun. Regardless, she’d rather deal with this situation herself than to involve her friends. And should this be some malicious intent—if that letter from the gift-bearer was any indication—it would put her friends in harm’s way.

There was no way she could do that.

“It’s nothing,” she began confidently, as she hoped that her voice would be strong enough to put any concern away.

“Don’t worry.”

That did little to dissuade their concern, and the wary stares only turned grimmer. This was not what she wanted.

“Really, really, I have it under control. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad prank.” She tried again, although this time, the confidence seemed to waver.

That response seemed to be the one to put her friends at ease, although the worrying stares did not part their ways with her friends’ faces. It was still there, although they seemed a little more satisfied with her answer this time. However, her relief was short-lived as the friend who stood in front of her spoke up, still clearly on edge.

“Look, I respect your need to do this by yourself,” her friend said, “and I get that you’re trying to only contain the mess, because honestly if I know one thing about you, it’s that you hate to cause trouble for other people. But this is a hell of a problem is you have to physically write a note to this creepy stalker of yours. Or secret admirer, if we’re using kid-friendly terms, and trust me, this doesn’t even feel like it would be…”

There were a few chuckles.

“What I’m trying to say here is: if this guy or whatever he or she is, has to be lulled to his or her senses through your writing a letter, or in this case, a note, then this is far beyond what you should be handling yourself. But if you want to do it this way, then fine, but don’t forget that we’re also here if you need us to deal with some really douchey guy who has a really bad taste,” she said. That got a few nods in agreement.

“I guess we could see how this turns out—we’ll play it by ear, this one,” she finished.

Another friend spoke up, curiosity fueled this one, “just curious, what else did this person send you?”

She froze up and tried to calm her nerves. She could not show her friends that threatening letter. That would send them over the edge. No, no, no, no, no.

“Nothing. Just presents,” she quickly replied. She was hopeful it did okay to satiate that curiosity. “Really. Just not school-related gifts, I mean, honestly.”

If her friends were put-off by her answer, they didn’t voice it. But it was darn evident on their faces. And she was thankful they didn’t pursue that path of questioning.

“Come on, let’s head home? Ice cream on the way home?” She asked, trying to lighten up the mood. Her friends agreed.

She sighed—one hurdle crossed, time for round two.

At the same time, she did little to really analyze the situation. Her kind nature only put more strain on herself as a result, and her eagerness to keep her own problems to herself only solidified her future interactions with her so-called gift-bearer. Though if she had told her friends, the situation might have gone very differently.

She might have just guaranteed that her path crossed with her secret admirer.

The seconds were ticking past like a bomb on a timer, and every second that passed by was like a second forward towards her very own undoing. She knew what it seemed like in the movies, she knew how it went, but yet, what would she have done differently to discourage her admirer?

Her words had already left a mark. The note was never delivered, and the gift-bearer never got the message. The note disappeared after a while, and while she assumed that the gift-bearer had taken it. Her assumptions were well-grounded, but she never got a reply, nor did the gifts seem any less frequent for the next few days. A bitter feeling welled up inside of her, and she thought it would be best to just ignore it altogether.

She didn’t even open the packages for the next few presents. She pretended not to see them and pretended that they don’t exist. It wasn’t like the school would be able to set up some hidden cameras that would catch the perpetrator red-handed. The school wasn’t rich by any means, and any attempts at reporting anything would end up being waved away—she knew this, and she figured that the gift-bearer knew that as well.

However, things seemed to have let up after a few months as the presents became less frequent. The semester came to an unsatisfying end, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief—if anything, she would be glad to know that the gift-sessions would come to an end, she hoped.

But it didn't, she would come to learn. It was the beginning of her descent to hell.

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Sorry for the long hiatus, I sorta just disappeared. However, this is the beginning of this fic—the one I wrote a premise to a long time ago (read: a year ago). Please stay tuned every week for updates!

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imdoingthismspaintadventure · 5 years

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WORM 1.5 : In which we are saved by the bestest of good boys

You don’t properly appreciate what superhuman strength means until you see someone leap from the sidewalk to the second floor of a building on the far side of the street. He didn’t make it all the way to the roof, but he came to a point maybe three quarters of the way up. I wasn’t sure just how Lung kept from falling, but I could only guess that he just buried his fingertips into the building’s exterior.

Holy shit.

He just mega jumped to the building where Taylor is and is hanging on the outside wall by his claws!

You better come up with a way to escape or to do something, cause you seem preeetyy dead right now.

I heard scraping and crunching as he ascended, and looked to my only escape route. I didn’t harbor any delusions as far as my ability to get down the fire escape before Lung came over the top of the roof and deduced where I’d run off to. Worse, at that point he could probably just beat me to the street level by jumping off the roof, or even just shoot fire at me through the gaps in the metal while I was halfway down. The irony of the fire escape being anything but didn’t escape me.

Yeah that’s kind of a disadvantage of being in high-up places if you can’t fly or teleport or something. Pretty easy to get trapped.

I wished I could fly. My school offered the choice between Chemistry, Biology and Physics, with Basic Science for the underachievers. I hadn’t picked Physics, but I was still pretty sure that no matter how many I could gather together, jumping off the roof with a swarm of flying insects gripping me would be just as ineffective as the 9 year old superhero wannabes you heard about in the news, jumping off ledges with umbrellas and bedsheets.

I really don’t think they can carry your bodyweight, or even slow down your descent. You would splat on the floor like a, well, bug.

Also holy shit that is kinda dark and probably a likely consecuence of powers in our world. Poor kids.

For the time being, I was stuck where I was.

Home BuildingStuck

Reaching inside the convex armor that covered my spine, I ran my fingers over the things I had buckled in there. The EpiPens were meant to treat anaphylactic shock from allergic reactions to bee stings and the like, and likely wouldn’t do a thing to Lung, even if I could get close enough and find a point to inject. Worst case scenario, the injections would supercharge his power by prompting a surge of whatever hormones or endorphins fueled his power. Not useful, dangerous at best. I had a pouch of chalk dust that was meant for climbers and gymnasts, I had seen it in the sports store when I was buying the lenses for my mask. I had gloves and didn’t think I needed the dryness and extra traction, but I had gotten the idea that it could be useful to throw at an invisible enemy, and bought it on a whim. In retrospect, it had been kind of a dumb purchase, since my power let me find foes like that with my bugs. As a tool against Lung… I wasn’t sure if it would explode like regular dust could when exposed to flame, but fire didn’t hurt him anyways. Scratch that option.

...Fuck yes

I love characters that think about what they could do best in every situation with the resources they have. If Taylor is like this for the rest of the serial....God I’m gonna enjoy this.

The problem is that I don’t think she has many options at all

I tugged the little canister of pepper spray free from my armor. It was a black tube, three inches long, not much thicker around than a pen, with a trigger and a safety switch. It had been a gift from my dad, after I had started to go on my morning jogs for training. He had warned me to vary my route, and had given me the pepper spray for protection, along with a chain to clip it to my belt loop so it couldn’t be taken and used against me by an attacker. In costume, I had opted not to keep the chain for the sake of moving quietly. Using my thumb, I flicked the safety off and positioned the tube so I was ready to fire. I crouched to make myself a smaller target, and waited for him to show himself.

Hmmm could pepper spray work? Maybe if he doesn’t have his eyes or face fully armored...

Also I find the mental image of this possibly hilarious.

Lung’s hands, still on fire, were the first thing to show up, gripping the edge of the roof hard enough to bend the material that covered the roof’s raised lip. His hands were quickly followed by his head and torso as he hauled himself up. He looked like he was made of overlapping knives or spades, smouldering yellow-orange with the low temperature flame. There was no skin to be seen, and he was easily seven or eight feet tall, judging by the length of his arms and torso. His shoulders alone were three feet across at the very least. Even the one eye that he had open looked metallic, a glowing, almond shaped pool of liquid-hot metal.

He probably looks more like a daemon than a dragon now. At least he doesn’t seem to have wings...

Just a veritable inferno of molted metal and flame and a looot of anger

I aimed for the open eye, but the spray fired off at a sharp angle, just glancing off his shoulder. Where the spray grazed him, it ignited into a short lived fireball.

Taylor used improvised flamethrower against the fire demon! Doesn’t seem very effective...

Hopefully the spray doesn’t ignite before touching his face because I think a pyrokinetic can handle himself otherwise...

I swore under my breath and fumbled with the device. While he brought his leg over the edge, I adjusted my angle and shot again. This time – with a small tweak of my aim mid-shot – I hit him in the face. The ignited spray rolled off of him, but the contents still did the trick. He screamed, letting go of the roof with one hand, clutching the side of his face where his good eye was.

AAGH MY EYE! WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE GODDAMN EYE??!

Taylor could be an excellent markswoman, she seems to have a lot of precission and nuance in aiming.

It had been vain to hope that he would slip and fall. I just counted myself lucky that however metallic his face looked, there were still parts of it vulnerable to the spray.

At least for now...

Lung hauled himself over the edge of the roof. I had him hurting… I just couldn’t do anything about it. My bugs were officially useless, there was nothing left in my utility sheath, and I would hurt myself more than I hurt Lung if I attacked him. Making a mental note to pick myself up a concealable knife or baton if I managed to live through this, I bolted for the fire escape.

Time to use the Joestar’s secret technique then!

Also yeah some hand to hand weaponry could be useful for the future. Probably not with this warp-demon, but with regular joes, so that we can be less squishy wizard in our approach

“Muh… Motherfucker!” Lung screamed. With my back turned, there was no way to see it, but the roof was briefly illuminated before the wave of flame hit me from behind. Knocked off balance, I skidded on the gravel and hit the raised lip of the roof, just by the fire escape. Frantically, I patted myself down. My costume wasn’t on fire, but my hair – I hurriedly ran my hands over it to make sure it hadn’t been ignited.

Oh fuck!

Yeah the fact that the costume is not yet fully complete came back to bite you it seems. Let’s hope we don’t end up with too severe burns in our first night out, christ.

Small mercies, I thought, that there was no tar used on the roof. I could just imagine the flames igniting the rooftop, and just how little I’d be able to do if it happened.

That... would have been unfortunate. 100% fucked instead of the .... 87% we are at right now.

Lung stood, slowly, still covering part of his face with his hand. He walked with a slight limp as he approached me. Blindly, he lashed out with a broad wave of flame that rolled over half the roof. I covered my head with my hands and brought my knees to my chest as the hot air and flame rushed over me. My costume seemed to take the brunt of it, but it was still hot enough I had to bite my lip to stop from making a sound.

The costume seems to be fire resistant! Mostly.

Spider silk is fucking badass.

Lung stopped advancing, slowly turning his head from one side to another.

“Cock. Sucker,” he growled in his heavily accented voice, his cussing interrupted by his panting for breath, “Move. Give me something to aim for.”

Actual perfect recreation of trying to hunt a fly at 4 am in the morning when you can’t sleep, and aren’t a white hot metal terror.

I held my breath and stayed as still as possible. What could I do? I still had the pepper spray in my hand, but even if I got him again, I was running the risk that he would lash out and bake me alive before I could move. If I moved first, he would hear me and I would get knocked around by another blast of flame, probably before I could get to my feet.

Eeeh your options are...

1) Spray him in the face, get blasted

2) Stay quiet.... probably get blasted as well.

3)Try to get away, and get... I’m starting to see a pattern here

Lung moved his hand from his face. He blinked a few times, then looked around, then blinked a few more times. It was a matter of seconds before he could see well enough to make me out from the shadows. Wasn’t pepper spray supposed to put someone down for thirty minutes? How was this monster not an A-Lister?

Well ain’t that a fucking horrible thing to think about.

Either:

1) He’s way stronger than he should be and he’s basically content with being small-time thug, even with the potential he has in the larger world stage

or...

2) He’s a big fish in a small pond and the people out there make him look silly by comparison which is.... holy shit.

He suddenly moved, flames wreathing his hands, and I screwed my eyes shut.

At least he’s not saying feel the heat over and over

And also how the fuck will you get out of this one

When I heard the crackling whoosh of the flame and wasn’t burned alive, I opened my eyes again. Lung was firing streams of flame, aiming for the edge of the roof of the adjacent building, a three story apartment. I looked to see what he was aiming at, but couldn’t make anything out in the gloom or in the brief second of light Lung’s flames afforded.

!!!!!

Reinforcements!! Someone has come to help!! Or at least to fight AGAINST Lung!!

Yes!

With no warning, a massive shape landed atop Lung with an impact I could swear people heard at the other end of the street. The size of a van, the ‘massive object’ was animal rather than vehicle, resembling a cross between a lizard and a tiger, with tangles of muscle and bone where it ought to have skin, scales or fur. Lung was now on his knees, holding one of the beast’s sizable claws away from his face with his own clawed hand.

OH FUCK

A GIANT FUCKING METAL-LOOKING BONEY FERAL BEAST JUST FELL FROM NOWHERE AND IS FIGHTING AGAINST THE INFERNAL DRAGON MAN

Lung used his free hand to strike the creature across the snout. Even though he was smaller than the beast, the impact made it rear back. It took a few short steps back in reaction, and then rhino-charged him off the edge of the roof. They hit the street with an audible crash.

AND THE TWO BERSERKERS ARE HURLING THEMSELVES OFF OF THE BUILDING TO THE STREET BELOW

This is glorious.

I stood, aware I was shaking like a leaf. I was so unsteady on my feet, from the mixed relief and fear, that I almost fell over again as two more impacts shook the roof. Two more creatures, similar to the first in texture, but slightly different in size and shape, had arrived on the rooftop. These two each had a pair of riders. I watched as the people slid off the backs of the animals. There were two girls, a guy, and a fourth I identified as male only because of the height. The tall one approached me, while the others hurried to the edge of the roof to watch Lung and the creature duke it out.

THEY WERE JUST THE RIDES FOR THESE PEOPLE

What a fucking entrance

“You really saved us a lot of trouble,” he told me. His voice was deep, masculine, but muffled by the helmet he wore. He was dressed entirely in black, a costume I realized was basically motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet. The only thing that made me think it was a costume was the visor of his helmet. The full-face visor was sculpted to look like a stylized skull, and was as black as the rest of his costume, with only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface to give a sense of what it was. It was one of those costumes that people put together out of what they can scrounge up, and it wasn’t half bad if you didn’t look too close. He reached out a hand towards me, and I leaned away, wary.

Damn he looks cool. He’s giving me ghost rider vibes in his outfit, but without the flaming skull part. Just badass biker energy

I didn’t know what to say, so I stuck to my policy of not saying anything that could get me into a worse situation.

At least you are not on fire, even though mr black leather and his zombie behemoths aren’t really giving me heroic vibes

Withdrawing his hand, the man in black jerked his thumb over one shoulder, “When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked. We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day. We eventually decided, fuck it, we’d meet him halfway. Wing it. Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah.”

Oh! ooooohhhh.

So the “Killing kids” part wasn’t actually murdering random civilians for the evulz

It was probably a territorial dispute! Cause these are totally villains or anti-heroes/vigilantes. Either/or

Behind him, one of the girls whistled sharply and pointed down at the street. The two monsters the group had been riding on bounded across the roof and leaped down to the street to join the fight.

Seems like that one is the trainer.

The guy in black kept talking, “Wouldn’t you know, his flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of his gang are nowhere to be found,” he laughed, a surprisingly normal sound for someone wearing a mask with a skull on it.

He doesn’t seem to consider us a threat at least so that’s a relief

So they fought his underling while our girl here, on her lonesome, straight up picked a fight with bossman.

“Lee’s no slouch in a fight, but there’s a reason he’s not leader of the ABB. He got spooked without his boss there and ran. I guess you’re responsible for that?” Skull-mask waited for a response from me. When I didn’t offer one, he ventured towards the edge of the roof and looked down, then spoke without turning to look at me, “Lung is getting creamed. The fuck you do to him?”

Oh shit the venoms or the eye-injuries are making a difference in helping the hell-mount win!

“Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites,” the second of the girls said, answering the question for me. She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue or purple – I couldn’t tell in the dark – and her dark blond hair was long and windblown. The girl grinned as she added, “He’s not holding up too well. Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow.”

She can know all that with just a look??

Information-based powers!! Intuition? Clairvoyance? Omniscience? Those always seem crazy OP to me in terms of offering support!

The man in black suddenly turned to look at me, “Introductions. That’s Tattletale. I’m Grue. The girl with the dogs-” he pointed to the other girl, the one who had whistled and directed the monsters. She wasn’t in costume unless I counted a plaid skirt, army boots, a torn-up sleeveless T-shirt and a hard plastic, dollar-store rottweiler mask as a costume. “-We call her Bitch, her preference, but in the interests of being P.G., the good guys and media decided to call her Hellhound instead. Last and certainly least, we have Regent.”

Grue? Huh, I can’t really guess what he could do based on that. Isn’t it like an urban legend or fairytale monster?

Tattletale...so her power IS information based! I also like the simpleness of her costume which I hadn’t mentioned

Bitch (Hellhound think of the children! ) looks really butch and badass from what I can hear. She seems to be the one with the beast power, cue the “Bitch” in her name

Regent...hmmm, something nobility-related?

I finally caught up with what he was saying. Those monsters were dogs?

Abyssal doggos!!

“Fuck you, Grue,” Regent retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear he wasn’t really that offended. He was wearing a white mask, not quite as decorative or made up as the ones I associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar. He’d placed a silver coronet around his short black curls, and wore a ruffled white shirt with skintight leggings tucked into knee-high boots. The outfit was very renaissance faire. He had a build that made me think more of a dancer than a bodybuilder.

He looks really theatrical. I really like his aesthetics. I still wonder what his power is.

Introductions done, Grue looked at me for several long moments. After a few seconds, he asked me, “Hey, you okay? You hurt?”

“The reason she’s not introducing herself isn’t because she’s hurt,” Tattletale told him, as she continued to lean over the edge of the roof and watch whatever was going on at the street level, “It’s because she’s shy.”

Damn omniscients and their lack of privacy!!

Her power is actually scary though. No secrets with her around..

Tattletale turned around and it looked like she was going to say something else, but she stopped, turning her head. The smile she’d been wearing faded, “Heads up. We’ve gotta scram.”

Bitch nodded in response and whistled, one short whistle followed by two long ones. After a brief pause, the building was suddenly rattled by impacts. In just moments, the three creatures of hers leaped from the alleys to either side of the building and onto the roof.

Grue turned towards me. I was still standing on the opposite end of the roof, by the fire escape. “Hey, want a ride?”

What?? Oh god is someone else coming as well?? What now?

I looked at the creatures – dogs? They were bloodied, snarling creatures out of a nightmare. I shook my head. He shrugged.

The dogs look like something you would see on doom and it is amazing

“Hey,” Tattletale said to me, seating herself just behind Bitch, “What’s your name?”

I stared at her. My voice caught in my throat before I was able to get the words out, “I don’t… I haven’t picked one yet.”

“Well, Bug, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute. You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice. Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they’re not going to let one walk away. You should get out of here,” She said. She flashed me a smile. She had one of those vulpine grins that turned up at the corners. Behind her simple black domino style mask, her eyes were glittering with mischief. If she had red hair, she would have made me think of a fox. She kind of did, anyways.

It’s true she doesn’t have a name yet! I guess bug would suffice for now.

And yuup they were bad guys, I knew it. Seems they have mistaken Taylor for one!

Well when you take into account the possibly too-grimdark edgy-lite costume and what she fucking did to Lung with her bugs in his eyes.... yeah I could see how they can draw that conclusion

With that, they leaped over my head, one of the three beasts hitting or stepping on the fire escape on the way down, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.

When I realized what had just happened, I could have cried. It was easy enough to pin down Regent, Tattletale and Bitch as teenagers. It wasn’t much of an intuitive leap to guess that Grue had been one too. The ‘children’ Lung had mentioned, the ones I had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys. Not only that, but they had mistaken me for one, too.

Happy first day out as a hero, Taylor! Well done!

And it still might not be over yet, let’s see what happens with this hero arrival. Let’s hope they don’t reach the same conclusions this time.

But we will see that next time! See you in the next update!

#worm parahumans #worm #worm liveblog #parahumans #wildbow #parahumans liveblog #worm 1.5 #arc 1

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phaticserpent · 5 years

Text

Burn Out [ULTRON X READER]

3: Friday (Part One)

It was 12:00 in the morning, and you sat at your desk trying to think of a way the music connected to you. But the only thing that filled your head, was Ultron.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" His voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Oh uh....I'm working on something right now." You yawned. "Don't worry, I'll sleep when I'm finished." He peered over your shoulder then gave you a quick look of disapproval when nothing was on the piece of lined paper.

"And when would that be?"

"Ultron, I'm fine. It's normal for me to miss a few hours of sleep." You groaned. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at you. "Now you look like my dad."

"You need to sleep." Ultron spoke sternly. "Let's say you sleep at two in the morning, you'll have to wake up at eight, that's six hours of sleep. You won't be able to function properly. Your brain will be begging for more sleep. Now, let's say you manage to get out of bed. You'll still need energy to think in your class. I know you take psychology, that's a lot of brain power even to process what the professor just said to you."

"Now you sound like my mom." You sighed. "I'll just get coffee in the morning. It's fine."

"Let me do the work for you." He insisted.

"No, my teacher will know! I'll do it, it's okay Ultron." You shook your head repeatedly. He stared at you, waiting for you to fall asleep on the spot. He finally stepped back, shaking his own head as he sat on your bed. You heard him power down and you turned your head to see him lying on your bed comfortably. After an hour, you completed your assignment and you stared at your sloppy handwriting that was utter nonsense. Hastily changing into your pajamas, you climbed onto the bed, making sure you didn't interrupt Ultron. Unfortunately, he was on top your bedsheet, you tried tugging but it was like having a tug of war with a bear. Burying yourself under him, you covered yourself with what you had. It wasn't until you felt heat emanating from somewhere. Do I have the heater on? You asked. Cautiously, you hovered your hand on Ultron's metal body. He wasn't scalding hot but decently warm enough. Facing the other way, you pressed your back to him, feeling the heat spread through you.

————————————————

Ultron was the first to wake, technically power on. He felt a great amount of pressure around his waist, he glanced down to see you hugging him. He gently sighed, realizing you missed your alarm as he searched through the net for something powerful. He imitated a rather annoying sound that rang like a fire alarm. You snapped awake and fell off the bed in downright shock.

"Fuck!" You cursed.

"I'm sorry, but you're five minutes late." Ultron apologized. "That's what happens when you stay up late."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Also, I ordered coffee for you. The nearest Starbucks is three minutes away, you can pick up your order there. I placed it under your name."

"Oh wow, thanks. How do you know what I like?"

"Social media. Really amusing how you put what you ordered in the descriptions." He mentioned. Your face flushed.

"Thank you.....you didn't have to do that." You claimed while gathering your belongings for school. Ultron gave no response, watching you slip around in your socks to grab specific textbooks. "I guess I'll see you in the afternoon?"

"Have a good day." Ultron nodded. You couldn't help but feel a pang of emptiness once you closed the door. Why did it hurt to be so far from him? Sighing, you rushed downstairs and onto the streets of New York City. The nearest Starbucks was three minutes away, and you immediately spotted a cup with your name on it. Grabbing the drink and taking a large sip, you shuddered as the caffeine kept you awake. Halfway to your campus, a notification went off nearly causing you to drop your drink. It was a message from someone through one of your social media application, and you immediately knew who.

[I hate this, it feels like I'm confined. This is worse than strings] Ultron proclaimed. [What do you do when you get bored?] He asked.

[Read books, listen to music. Sometimes find myself going through old things.....but please don't go through my stuff]

[Why? Hiding a skeleton?] You could see him smirking through the screen.

[It's my private life, I'll tell you when I want just don't go rummaging through my stuff. You can read my books, turn out whatever musics genre you enjoy]

[What's a book you recommend reading?]

[*insert your favorite book/book series* it's amazing, but I can't guarantee that your emotions will be the same after reading] You quickly typed while crossing the street.

[So let me get this clear, you read books that may cause grief and frustration yet you still find it interesting?] Ultron seemed puzzled.

[Haha, yeah. I don't know, I'm just that type of person to like books. They're really captivating and beautiful, in their own sense of way]

[I admire your sense of style....do you own a kindle?] He asked as you recoiled internally.

[God no, those things are awful. I like feeling the book while reading.....staring at a screen for too long hurts my eyes] Before you could hit send, someone grabbed you by your backpack and feeling adrenaline pump through, you turned around to punch the person in the face.

"Hey, I'm sorry kid, but you almost walked into the street without looking." The man beckoned at the scenery, with thousands of cars speeding across. He was right, you would've been squashed if it weren't for him.

"Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I thought you were someone else!" You apologized.

"Nah it's okay, but I have to hand it to you, you got a nice punch." The man nodded in approval. "Keep yourself safe."

"Thank you." You managed to croak out.

[Hey are you okay? What happened?] Ultron messaged.

[Oh I'm fine, I'll tell you when I get back. Now go read!]

————————————————

Every lecture was the same. Boring, draining, and less exciting than you thought it would've been. Once you were out of college, you immediately rushed your way back home. Your legs carried you so fast, until something flashed through your mind and you stopped at a clothing store.

[Hey, I'll be a little late than usual] You texted Ultron. Hoping he wouldn't be too worried. A woman greeted you warmly, asking if you need help and you awkwardly smiled while shaking your head. Your feet rushed to the men's section, staring at the different styles with different fabrics and patterns. You knew a lot about men's fashion, and woman's fashion since you dressed more differently than others. He looks like a large......maybe an extra large? I'll just take a extra large and hope for the best. You scanned your eyes over all the shirts and sweaters, picking out a few dark colors.

"Uh excuse me, do you happen to have a face mask?" You asked the woman.

"We do!" Her face brightened as she led you to the back of the room, filled with different fashion accessories.

"Thank you." After picking out an outfit, you walked your way to the register.

"Nice choice of fashion....would you like to work here?" The woman offered. "That'll be $36.98."

"Really? I would love to!" You smiled as you handed the money to her. She neatly folded the clothes into the plastic bag with your receipt and handed the change to you.

"We're open everyday, but I can see that you have school. Here's my phone number, you can either text or call me to negotiate a time." She smiled. "Have a good day!"

"You too!" You smiled as you walked out. You needed the money and besides, it wouldn't hurt to work in a retail shop. Fashion was something you enjoyed freely. On the way home, you remembered every single time your friends asked for fashion help, it started with small requests and soon your reputation exploded everywhere. Even the popular kids liked you.

————————————————

"Hey I'm back!" You announced, opening the door. Ultron sat on the floor, surrounded by books. "I see that I've made someone a book lover." You chuckled.

"To be frank with you, I just don't understand how some characters don't realize the other character has feelings for them! My wires are about to heat up due to the frustration!"

"Silly, isn't it?" You smirked. "Alright, I bought you clothes and I didn't know your size but I'm just praying that they fit." Ultron picked up his head in interest. He took the clothes and wiggled into them, however he was missing pants.

"I have a couple of sweatpants, I didn't think jeans would fit you—" you explained as your eyes darted down at his.... "Yeah, let me get you some sweatpants. They're really comfortable." You just hoped that he didn't catch you ogling at him. Pulling your closet door, you threw around pants until you hit the back and found one you were looking for.

#phaticserpentfanfics #ultron x reader #age of ultron #ultron #part one #burnout #fanfiction

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hellyeahrpmemes · 6 years

Text

※ JENNA MARBLES SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. IX ※

here’s sentences from 10 more of jenna’s videos! feel free to change names/pronouns/zodiac signs/etc.! more jenna sentences

PANCAKE ART CHALLENGE

“I’m not very good at drawing things.”

“Yours won. Yours so won.”

“It looks like a feral cat.”

“You’re just pretending to be a chef.”

“I made your forehead in pancake form.”

“Don’t look at mine - don’t look at mine…!”

“She looks like a ghost of herself.”

“It looks like a tombstone walking a dog.”

“It looks like a can of silly string gone wrong.”

“That’s a bunny. You draw it every single time we’re at dinner and you find a crayon or a pen. That’s the one thing you know how to draw really, really well.”

“So it’s a flamethrower?”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m gonna put this on your bed tonight. On your pillow.”

“It’s an Ankylosaurus, duh.”

“Can you autograph my pancake?”

“I wonder if it tastes good.”

“It looks like a weird calculator.”

“If he can do it, we can do it, too.”

“In the end, we both lost.”

“It was a lot harder than it looks.”

CHILDHOOD STORIES

“There are some moths in my house, and I don’t really want to kill them, but they are driving me crazy. I swear to god, if they start chewing my clothes, it’s gonna be game over. I’m gonna burn this house down.”

“I have lost my mind a little bit.”

“Worship me, Pinterest.”

“I feel like I am now the queen of DIY.”

“We would just sit there, and maybe look out the window, and maybe talk to each other.”

“You really needed a friend, but I really liked to play with it alone.”

“What did you do? That looks so cool!”

“I forgot I had a rope, and I forgot this thing called friction happens, and I sawed it in half.”

“I didn’t say anything to my dad, because I knew that that would be certain death.”

“I am a really bad liar and I have a terrible poker face.”

“My brother wasn’t going to tattle on me, because he is not a snitch, and I appreciate that.”

“It was like top ten most angry moments I’ve ever seen my dad.”

“Shut up, my gerbil is not fat.”

“Dude, your gerbil is so fat.”

“It was the most disgusting thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Sometimes, if your mom can’t take care of you, she’s just going to eat you.”

“I took a pair of scissors, and I decided to give my cat a haircut.”

“Damn it, now the cat’s gonna get his head stuck in everything.”

“I’m fired, I quit, I’m fired.”

MY DOG CHASING A DRONE

“I got Julien a drone for his birthday.”

“He really just loves to chase it.”

“Why fight it when you can just work with it?”

“It really is completely hysterical.”

“This is what I want to watch on the Internet.”

“We love each other forever.”

“I would never do anything to put him in any sort of danger.”

“We work together to make fun things happen.”

“It’s just really cool and really amazing and I just wanted to share it with you.”

“You don’t even care, do you?”

UNPOPULAR OPINIONS

“Do you need a snack or anything? You good?”

“I think avocados are propaganda in Southern California.”

“You hate something as meaningless as an avocado, Jenna? Really?”

“If I was a ghost, I wouldn’t just help people when they needed me, I’d be there all the time.”

“What’re you doing? Cutting your nails? I’m gonna stand here and watch.”

“Are you ever truly alone? I say no.”

“Why am I turning? I hate this chair…!”

“I don’t think ghosts and/or spirits just limit their visitation hours to when you need them. I think they’re there all the time. Creeping on you.”

“I think parasailing is boring as fuck.”

“That looks intense, count me out.”

“It’s very boring. It’s not worth it.”

“Why are you so famous? It really bothers me to the core of my being.”

“I think almond butter tastes like blood. I think it’s gross, and it tastes like blood.”

“I think tonic water tastes like earwax.”

“I think that making a salad is way too much work for the end result.”

“I’m not really talented at hard manual labor, which I’m sure my grandparents would find as a character flaw.”

“I think Jenna is the best name ever. Sorry, all other names.”

“I would buy her a drink like the gentleman I am.”

“I have a landlord that says no, but I say otherwise.”

“Go check out the otters. You won’t be disappointed.”

“They’re literally just there to have a great time.”

“I mean, it’s cool to see you, man, but you seem sad.”

“I think curtains are way too expensive for what they are, and a waste of money.”

“I’d see that, like, four times in the theater.”

“I’m legitimately terrified of prescription drugs.”

“I don’t really care what anybody says. I mean, I do a little bit.”

“Think for yourself, use your own brain, it’s a fun thing to do.”

REVIEWING BAD APPS

“Guess what? This is life.”

“I think it’s funnier now that the song is two years old.”

“If I paid money for it, I’m angry about it.”

“This is the weirdest fucking app.”

“I think it’s genius. I think it’s great.”

“Does this not know that google exists?”

“Did that horse fall?”

“Is this porn? Is this porn? This feels porny.”

“This one makes me feel like I’m really there.”

“That’s pretty annoying.”

“It’s not the worst, but it’s also not not the worst.”

“One small tattoo for man, one giant leap backwards for mankind.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, that’s nightmare fuel.”

“It’s so stupid that it’s amazing.”

“Just that name is the funniest thing ever.”

“Oh, I hate this so fucking much.”

“Think of all the times you just needed a candle, but you don’t have one.”

“Whenever I find something really cool, I just tell Julien, and he never appreciates it, so I hope you appreciate it.”

GIRLS DAY

“It’s time to go.”

“This is the cutest shovel I’ve ever seen.”

“I got this on sale!”

“I feel crazy.”

JENNA’S RACHET FASHION BOUTIQUE

“I like to sew, even though I’m not very good at it. I just refuse to fail.”

“We used to have to take home economics, where you learn how to sew and cook and stuff, and, apparently, people don’t take that anymore.”

“I still am mediocre at it.”

“If shit ever went down at a zombie apocalypse, everyone’s gonna be butt-ass naked, and I’m gonna be over here, sewing, with electricity.”

“I’m just gonna try and sew myself a sick outfit.”

“I also don’t want to spend a lot of time doing this.”

“Fuck patterns, fuck all that shit, let’s just do it live.”

Everything that I sew is gonna be with navy blue and/or black thread, which, if you have a problem with, just go away now.”

“I’m gonna make a long maxi skirt, ‘cause those are overpriced.”

“I would do this drunk, but it seems really dangerous to sew drunk.”

“Something smells like burning.”

“It looks crooked, but you just pass it off as fashion.”

“Get your scissors, and cut whatever the fuck is bothering you the fuck out.”

“Backwards and forwards and backwards, it’s just like life.”

“The best way to learn is to just look at a shirt, and make it.”

“Just don’t even bother finishing anything.”

“Yes. Yes, cape, yes.”

“Somebody could have made something really nice out of this. Not me!”

“I’m literally wearing a tube of pajamas, and I love it.”

“When I was at the fabric store, I saw this, and just really couldn’t resist.”

“What lady going to a ball couldn’t fit this into her wardrobe?”

“A fun, exciting fabric to make a hat out of is denim.”

“Don’t laugh, it’s fashion!”

“If you saw this, you’d be like, that is couture.”

“I really should’ve just made my entire outfit out of this, but that’s for next time.”

“Looks great. I’m scared of you, but it looks good.”

“I feel like the outside matches the inside.”

“Yes, bitch, you fuck that outfit up.”

“Honestly, I’d wear this shirt. And this skirt.”

THINGS I WISH I COULD LIE ABOUT

“I’m also sorry. But not that sorry.”

“Most of it just stems from being terrified of authority. I’m scared of getting in trouble.”

“Whenever someone asks me for my phone number, I always give out my real phone number. I can never lie and give them a fake number.”

“I’m terrified of having that confrontation.”

“Yeah, I got it really wet. It’s soaking wet. Just fully submerged in water. It’s wet.”

“I just wish that I could lie, but I feel too bad, I have to tell the truth.”

“I could’ve saved myself a lot of money with just a couple lies.”

“Their dogs are not therapy dogs, and you can tell.”

“I know for a fact that, by saying yes to that question, I’m just gonna get a lecture for the next ten minutes.”

“I don’t need to hear the lecture. I know the lecture.”

“Eggplant? Ew! The fuck is wrong with — my god, no…!”

“I don’t need to violently argue with someone when they say they don’t like something.”

“I can never, ever, ever lie to a police officer or a cop, ever.”

“I wasn’t speeding that much, but I was definitely speeding.”

“I was listening to R. Kelly’s World’s Greatest, and it was just getting me so hyped up that I just, I went so fast, I didn’t realize how fast I was going.”

“He gave me a $300 speeding ticket.”

“That started the ‘do not play’ list in the car.”

“You’re singing with your eyes closed, which is not good for driving, at all.”

“I think this is a good look. I think we should make this a thing.”

“Some of you guys are fuckin lying.”

HOW I TALK TO PEOPLE AT PARTIES

“Oh my god, how’s it going? So good to see you!”

“Hey, thanks, I’m a catch.”

“It’s a conversation, we should listen.”

“I don’t wanna listen…”

“I’m gonna use my eyes and pretend I’m listening.”

“She just asked us a question — did you hear what she asked us?”

“So how’s, uh… how’s what’s his face?”

“I just don’t want her to tell the tree story again.”

“One time, I was climbing this tree in my backyard…”

“She can smell your fear, you know.”

“I can smell time. It’s 11:30.”

“I can rap. Quadruple threat.”

“Did you watch the baseball game the other night?”

“Are we drunk?”

“This is bad, we shouldn’t have said that, why did we say that?”

“Hey, we should get this pierced.”

“Do you feel like breaking something?”

“I really love you so much.”

“She’s already drunk ‘I love you’-ing.”

“At least she didn’t make any drunk plans yet.”

“We are not going to remember that. Not at all.”

“What do you think happens when you put a ton of lettuce into a woodchipper?”

“I fucking hate you guys. You guys are idiots.”

“My brain is a terrifying prison.”

WHAT’S IN MY MOUTH CHALLENGE

“Why are you laughing already? Stop laughing.”

“You put the heel of my boot in my mouth? What are you, insane?”

“This touches the ground?”

“I was mad, sorry.”

“No, this is not going to turn into you solving a Rubik’s cube.”

“Who makes appointments a year in advance? I do.”

“This is my inhaler, you asshole!”

“Did you just say scoff?”

“You sinus-blasted me?!”

“Do you have any idea the mental preparation you need to have before you take one of those!?”

“As soon as it hit my tongue, I knew I was fucked.”

“Open up, we are playing a game.”

“Julien, my mouth tastes like Christmas tree!”

“Oh my god, what the fuck is that? It’s wet…”

“Open up all the way.”

“You put yeast in my mouth. That was fucked up.”

“Wow… I hate you.”

#rp memes #rp sentence starters #roleplay meme #sentence starters #mine

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darby-draws-archive · 7 years

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3, 10, 18, and 20 ?

AHh thank you so much! ✨ (From these questions, I’m willing to take more!!) It got a little long so I’ll put it under a read more.

3. What kind of a parent is the character? Does their own idea match that? Do they think they are a good parent? What are some of their insecurities as a parent? How about their partner?I think Andre’s generally a pretty relaxed parent and let’s Leia get away with stuff/doesn’t have a ton of strict rules. He’s not The Most lenient person ever but I mean,, as long as she’s bein nice and being safe, not hurting anyone or possibly herself then!! Yeah?? Like for example.. You can wear whatever the heck you want as long as it’s weather appropriate I guess and if that means you’ve got on like three different patterns in colors that do NOT match At All and those weird lookin shoes u like for some reason then sure. Have fun. You want to wear your fanciest sparkly dress even tho we’re only walking to the convenience store for like two items? I mean.. I guess that’s a good enough occasion as any..

He’s also kind of a worrier, though, and a little over protective sometimes!! :0 He gets anxious but tries not to let that show through.He definitely spoils her a little just because,, he wants to kinda make up for certain things. Like, he always felt kinda second best when he was a kid,, like he wasn’t good enough. And with Leia’s mother not in the picture he worries that he wouldn’t be Enough for baby Leia all by himself. Or worse.. That Leia would think she wasn’t good enough?!? He doesn’t want Leia to ever feel that way!Because she is so good, she deserves the whole world!

He thinks he’s a worse parent than he actually is, like, in the early years especially, not as much as time goes on. Because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing and he second guesses himself very easily. He knows he’s not, like. An Awful Parent, but he’s not very experienced with kids and of course messes up sometimes and he doesn’t have enough self confidence to say, ya know, it’ll be OKAY. He has a hard time forgiving himself for making honest mistakes. :,c

And since Kriss (his partner ofc) isn’t my oc that’s up to Darla!!

10. What about the CHILDREN’S favorite things to do with their parents? She likes going on walks with Andre (and Kriss~!) but she loves even more when they take her to the park! Her favorite is getting pushed on the swings!! She gets sad if its a rainy day and they can’t go to the park (tho sometimes they go on Rainy Walks if they get all dressed for the weather!!),, but that’s okay too because she also likes snuggling up and having Andre read to her, (he does all the character voices just right, of course), or when they watch movies together! (Wall-e is her favorite she’d watch it every day if u let her.) She also likes drawin things with Kriss! (finger painting is her favorite medium at the moment..) ANd singing and dancing around the house with Andre and just goofing off like that is always tons of fun. :,)

18. Talk about a time when the children did or said something that was both hilarious and definitely embarrassing for the parents!

Andre: easily flustered,, Leia: a kid who says w/e is on her mind. Hmmm. How did u know this would be such a good question. :,) I don’t have like, one good specific example of this off the top of my head, but trust meee. It happens all the time w them.

I feel like before Kriss and Andre get together, she is always accidentally unintentionally dropping hints about how much Andre likes Kriss. My daddy was talkin about you aaaalll day Kriss! 83c HE said he was gonna call you for forever because he wanted to invite you to dinner but then he got nervous to ask you!!! So he called Avry and they said to call you and he finally did! That’s so silly uwu (Andre: “it wasn’t… all day…… And I called Avery for unrelated reasons I wasn’t 2 nervous to talk to u without a pep talk no way..)

*Kriss walking next to Andre walking next to Leia, holding her hand* Leia: “YOu guys gotta hold hands too when we cross the street because it’s dangerous!” Andre: “Oh.. Uhm. Yea Kriss,, it’s dangerous.. That’s kind of The Rules…..” *BLUSHES*

ALso probably just telling Kriss silly things about Andre in general like,,, how Andre sings in th shower and it’s Really Funny,, or that he’s scared of the dark or something. He wouldn’t mind too much,, honestly, but he does get just a bit flustered and tries to laugh it off nervously hahah who me?? nnno. ah. SEcretly a dork..u caught me…

20. Talk about a time the children made their parents very proud.

Andre’s the type who’s proud of Leia for,, every little thing. Always supportive and stuff. Because she is such a good bab of course!! She has vry good manners and is a preeetty well behaved kid, and Andre’s always proud and thankful for that. I think Leia calls people out for bein mean, especially to her lil family. Like I don’t have a specific example or anything but idk, she isn’t afraid to say hey that’s not very nice of you :,(c if you say somethin that could hurt a feeling or two! She’s a sweetheart!!!

#ask meme #oc talk #baby au #original character #leia #andre #hope I didn't miss something but!! Here they are... The Good Answers

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[HM] [NSFW] How To Stay Single By Being Yourself

I listened to her pack into the MUNI train, and before I lost her in a tunnel, I said, “Sayonara, sardine.”

What a thing to say to someone with whom you’ve never actually occupied the same space, at least to my knowledge. The whole pace of my life seems to be this way nowadays. A skip or a glitch or a miss, or a drunk wrong turn into the wrong drunk person to kiss. Then I slip into another relationship, another year lost monogamous with the wrong person, until I’m my old single self again, masturbating and playing video games for virtual and spermal accomplishments. Until it’s just sad and no longer nostalgic, and I give it up again and move on to taking placebo capsules, more commonly known as vitamins, trying to better myself, eat healthy; when I know in my heart, whether or not it’s connected to a clogged left anterior descending artery, I’ll die just the same. The antithesis of delusions of grandeur, whatever that is. Plus those aren’t things I should indulge in or contemplate anyway, and by now I should have been more than this, but at least it’s good I don’t have kids or a second mortgage, but then comparatively to happier lives than mine, maybe it isn’t.

Responsibilities warped, and I’m honestly just complacent. Had one insightful shroom trip three years ago, camping at the base of Mt. Baldy, ending in three friends coming down from the trip repeating the word ‘comfort’ in harmony, which really stuck with me, and now making enough money so I can afford things that might impress a woman so she’ll sleep with me - because I lack a societally accepted masculine personality, and the accompanying physique - doesn’t seem all that important. Unless she’s gorgeous, thinks I’m funny, holds my doors open for me, and makes sure I cum before her. Because she’s an all giving goddess who’s ultra into reversing the roles. Now I’m the one wearing the bra and being neglectful, and she’s the one that’s fearful I’ll leave her if she’s not careful; if she can’t become my idea of the perfect woman, which could only mean that she’s not really special, not to me or anyone. My 'I’ve truly lost touch with reality' true love. Imagine that. Even when I’m not really with anybody I can’t take a breath for myself. Romantically imaginative, removed but attached. Really I’m just a Little Bitch, but I capitalize the L and the B in that shit. I own my label. It’s my religion, my race, my gender, my age, and my sexual orientation, fluidly. It’s my username on Fetlife, but the original was taken, so I’m LittleBitchFoRealTho. Even though the trained eye would see that’s too many characters. And I don’t know why I have the urge to say this, but, stay woke.

Then I snapped out of it, took a minute to think of all the years I wasted lasting seconds during sex, for months at a time, counting down the femtoseconds until the relationship ends in high entropy. Either overpraised or overfed. Or not needed at all. Just a one night stand, just a bed, just a friend, not even with benefits, just a dude to bring home so she doesn’t have to yet accept and admit to her parents that she’s a lesbian.

Get older, continue to get high, watch The Neverending Story for the thousandth time, and go to bed early. Learning to be lonely. Perpetually a dude currently writing this, sitting in a room, in an apartment with rent that’s ridiculous, if you happen to measure and calculate the cramped square footage, and compare it to how much you’re paying for it. Surrounded by objects that are purely conditional, and those conditions seem to occur few and far between. So everything I bought off Amazon Prime is all essentially useless, but can be delivered in two days, so that it can more quickly begin to lose the factor of novelty, before becoming still life garbage you seemingly involuntarily keep, imbued with a memory of a compelling spell of clicking, which megamorphed into sentimental value, and you only have those hardcovers on your bookshelf to cast the illusion that you’re well-rounded.

In actuality, I’m only rewriting this over and over again, trying to make this ludicrous literature perfect, while experiencing acute mood shifts. Sometimes my phone dies and I lose the latest revision, gone and lost in contextual oblivion. Metaphysically tired in my lazy mind’s lazy eye, from the eternal uphill-pushing of enormous proverbial boulders. A hugely hubristic, bush league, satirical Sisyphus with a creator complex, writing this self-stated, social paradigm shifting content, while in tangible social settings I’m mostly pocketing my psychic two cents. Then keeping my hands in my pockets so my palms sweat, standing far away from her and her friends after she ran over to them, next to a giant metallic cone with a screen in it at the California Academy of Sciences, reading the ticket that admits us into the Planetarium. Skip to the next awkward moment, I finally walk over, because she looked at me like I’m an idiot, we stand in a rhombus and start talking. One friend says, “Hey, nice to meet you”. Then a dainty, moist squeeze of the hands, then release, but no relief, more anxiety, but I manage to speak, “It’s nice to meet you too, Peaches.” I swear that was her name.

I’m saving up to win the spiritual lottery, or just waiting: to die, to fall asleep, perchance to wet-dream. While in my periphery I’m watching Clueless and wishing someone would text me back. As if. Because I sent you this, so I’ll probably never hear from you again, person reading this. A person I can only describe as: a secluded echo, an eclipsed moon, December blue. Soft eyes, no vacancy. Wild ride. You.

Anyway, if you’re still with me, what I’ve been trying to say, lately things seem to go a certain way for me. It’s not bad or good, it’s just causing me to think a little more introspectively. Any remorse for my interactions that may boil up is immediately self-medicated with cannabis that is meant to take the place of dopamine, when in reality I haven’t accomplished a single thing. I’m just sitting here making up silly stories, pretending I’d be content if this was it, nothing more than this. Monotony, mixed with heaven sent absurdity that turns into comedy, or social awkwardness at my day job that on the first and fifteenth of the month turns into money. Which goes to rent and other pointless expenses. If I want to attempt to have sex, gotta pay for dates, probably somewhere expensive, to distract her from fact that one of my ears is lower and points in a different direction.

Then when I’m on these dates, I have to be witty, charming, funny; because I personally believe that’s all I have going for me, and my psychiatrist agrees. I have to be somewhat up kept, overall hygienic, clean my apartment, just in case... you know...I die, or she wants to comes over. Buy a new toothbrush, new socks, deodorant, maybe a tie, get a goofy one while you’re shopping for an outfit at Goodwill, one that isn’t too large or too goofy looking, so as not to appear homeless. Not too drunk or too stoned to not keep up the walls, keep on the mask, perpetuate the facade, go on and on about what you do, where you’re from, but what’s really going on is you’re dancing around the fact that awkwardness is preferable to loneliness, but neither of you are out rightly addressing it, just discussing hobbies you aren’t really all that active in, and all you really want is to put on your favorite song, which is Love is a Battlefield, really loud, and be physically close to another person, preferably naked.

But flaws and awkwardness always win; until you consider and accept that death is the ultimate end, after getting real deep about it during a stoned conversation while listening to The Mars Volta with your old high school friends. Start to contemplate the concept of non-existence, then live your life according to that premise; which I don’t, but then do, too, paradoxically.

A view loosely based on the Tegmark take on quantum immortality, transmuted with my own half-baked multiverse theory recipe, tossed into the ethereal 8-Qt Crock-Pot, on low for 8 hours, alchemically cooking up the basic tenets of my life’s philosophies, stirring occasionally. It’s basically the idea that you can’t actually perceive yourself dying, but everyone else around you experiences your death in that universe’s reality. So for them you’re dead, then either cremated, ashes scattered in the hot tub at your grandparents old house in Walnut while the new occupants are in it. Or buried next to your brother, whose epitaph reads, “Who wants to match on a blunt and smoke out Jesus and Dezi Arnaz when we get to heaven, and why is it getting so hot all of a sudden?”, because my brother’s pretty funny when I write his made up epitaph for him. Or better than both disintegration or side-by-side a sibling in a graveyard; your will states your wishes to be taxidermied, morbidly displayed out in the most visible part of the back lawn, to been seen from a plethora of windows, forever staged reading Infinite Jest, which you never actually finished when you did exist there; until your family moves on emotionally and stores you in the basement next to your Pokémon card collection that never evolved into anything worth anything, much like a lvl 100 Luvdisc.

Where was I? Oh yeah. More bad dates with minutely modified bad outcomes, that would not have come to pass if you hadn’t eaten as many croissants as you did in your past life. Your colon couldn’t love handle it. Now new you figured out ways to continue perpetuating lies, to yourself and others, until again you’re caught in one of them by someone that you spoke spurious, rehearsed lines to, and then somehow learned to love. Another burnt bridge, move on to next place, the next job, the next “one”. Why not? Repeat the pattern. It seems you’ll always fill your life up with made up obstacles and the subsequent distractions, because it’s easier to hide behind another person’s life and pretend you don’t have one. Now their problems are yours, but they’re not as smart as you to handle them, says you. So you express another misplaced emotional reaction, then the inevitable detachment. In your mind it’s the proverbial 'them' all talking about you behind your back, even though they haven’t really thought about you since; but you hear it all in your head, overwhelmingly, a profound paranoid pounding, a feedback loop of an empty orchestra laughing; about all the stuff she knows about you, and told them, and they believe it to be it true, about you doing silly stuff with your penis that you thought would never leave the room.

“You can’t think your way out of a prison that is made of thought.”

- Krishna Das

Then you remember, sometimes if you say the name given to a person later in life because of a spiritual rite, read directly after the last word of a sentence from a quote associated with them, it produces a near rhyme. Sometimes things are just meant to be, two people are destined to meet, destined to be best friends who are silly on purpose, yes-and everyone, and massage each other’s feet. Running on unconditional love, and when we’re drunk it’s always fun and she doesn't end up cheating. If only.

No but really, I hope this was fun to read. Just some real, taboo, and personal themes that hopefully lead to giggles and genuine feelings, simultaneously. Because that’s really what I’m all about, inherently, though sometimes disrespectfully, but I promise it’s not done intentionally. I’m simply digging deeply into the collective unconscious, and sharing all the treasures that I pull out. Because I always pull out, can’t stand a condom: latex, sheepskin, my ego; doesn’t matter. I can’t help but rawly share it and impregnate you with honesty.

A component of my soul, a moment, a stream of consciousness built upon the general thought of a person I could have been and may become. An influence I feel could be a friend - because I swear on the grave of a man named Lasso who lives on the astral plane, who doesn’t know how to dance, but if you know how to ask, will grant you the ability to always know the exact location of the nearest bathroom - that I’m only trying to gain a little understanding so I can be compatible with another person. It’s that simple. I’m the grey hat traversing the gray areas. The one who doesn’t know the proper rules on when to use which spelling of gray, so he always puts both variations of grey in a sentence. So a train of thought came after a disconnection on a train elsewhere, which caused me to think, write and edit this every night until three in the morning for an ever increasing amount of weeks, repeating a pattern so as not to repeat, trying to see if there’s something to glean that’ll lead me to love in this reality. All because I listened to her pack into the MUNI train, and before I lost her in a tunnel, I said, “Sayonara, sardine.”

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#Blogger #Story

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chlnacat · 7 years

Text

all the sad and lonely ones

Chapter One: Pestilence

Richie Tozier has his first encounter with a God while tripping on acid outside of the Seven-Eleven when he's seventeen years old. At first he isn’t sure if what he’s seeing is even a God at all, because it’s frame is so emaciated and it’s face is filled with flies. They crawl out of the creature’s mouth and empty eye sockets and nasal cavity, and fill Richie with a sick kind of fear and the sense of total wrongness. Up until this moment of the trip, his visuals had been okay, great even. For a while there had been an explosion of colors, ones Richie had never seen before, colors that could not be picked up by the cones of any human eye, and he had wept at their glory, feeling a bit silly for doing so. Then, as he had walked along towards the convenience store in hopes of picking up a gallon of orange juice, trip juice, he had seen entire kingdoms rising and falling before him. The streets of Derry were filled with towering, crumbling castles, crumbling fountains, great tree fortresses that stretched endlessly into the sky, waterfalls cascading down their mighty bark. The ancient kingdoms beckoned him, but just as he was starting to close in on them, the scene would change. He walked backwards in time for a while, through the cobbled streets of what he suspected was the eighteen hundreds. Men and women rushed around him in period clothing; horses, dragging carriages of people along behind them, plodded along across the smooth stone of the street. The heavy, warm scent of pipe tobacco filled the air. The scene changed again as he came across the glowing green and red sign of the store, and for a moment all he can see is neon signs and flashing lights, even when he closes his eyes. It feels like he’s standing in the middle of Times Square, and he can actually see the tall double decker tour buses, the crowds of people pushing their way to get on.

Then he notices the beast, the God, the strange thing watching him from the shadows, and he stops for a moment, because up until this point he was still very much aware of the fact that none of what he’s seeing was real or held any ground and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure of this fact. Whatever this thing was, it felt more corporeal than the trip visuals, and the closer he moved towards it, the more a great sickness grew within him. The smell of rotting meat hits him like a wall, an awful smell, and it makes him want to turn away, but he finds that he can’t. Part of him feels bad for this beast, and something was telling him that it didn’t mean him any harm, and that it was only sad and that it probably wasn’t it’s own fault that it smelled so awful. He’s close enough to spot small, open black holes dotting the God’s elongated face. More flies crawl out of these holes, spreading their wings, iridescent. Some buzz lazily towards him, and the stench of dead rotting flesh burns his nose. The creature’s body is long and thin, and although it is naked it has no discernable sex parts. Richie gets the sense that it’s a masculine presence.

He is aware of no other noise than the flies buzzing. He is not aware of any cars that happen to pass by, or the soft white light pouring out from inside the store, or the low hum of electricity in the air, though he can feel that, can’t he? He is alone out here with this creature, and whatever or whoever it is pulls it’s mouth up into a smile.

“You probably don’t want to come too much closer,” it calls to him, and it’s voice is ringing, pleasant. It’s very out of character from such a menacing looking beast but Richie finds it comforting, somehow familiar in a way he can’t put his finger on. “I have a cold.”

“Who are you?” Richie asks, and his own voice sounds strange in his ears. He halts his movements and stares at the beast in wonder; a fly lands on it’s face and crawls into it’s gaping, black eye socket. Another fly crawls out. The holes on his face are seeping with thick whitish-yellow puss. All in all, the God looks very sickly, and being near him makes Richie feel very sick.

“I’m Pestilence,” the pleasant voice tells him. Dimly, in the back of his mind, Richie thinks that none of his hallucinations had ever spoken to him before. “I have a story I was hoping you’d listen to. That is, if you’d like.” He says it in a way that’s almost sort of sad. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I know being around me has a tendency to make most people feel rather ill.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Richie tells him, though his stomach still feels like it’s doing flips, and his skin feels sore and tender, like when you have the flu. “But maybe we should go somewhere else? I’ll look like an awful loon talking to myself out here if no one else can see you.”

“Oh! Well, if you don’t mind a little bit of traveling, I know just the spot. Would you go there with me?”

Richie thinks for a second, pondering what to do. What does one do when some strange type of sickly godbeast invites you to go traveling with him? For a moment, Richie has to close his eyes, because a vast starscape is exploding in front of them. Even when he closes his eyes, the stars are still there, and he feels a tear slip down his cheek as he thinks vaguely, all the stars in the universe are in my eyes. For a moment he surrenders himself to the vast nothingness, to the shimmering and twinkling of the stars laid out before him. Something he had read once crosses his mind, now, some old William Faulkner quote Bill probably would have loved; “Cady got the box and set it on the floor and opened it. It was full of stars. When I was still, they were still. When I moved, they glinted and sparkled. I hushed.”

The tears leaking out of his eyes are filled with thousands of tiny, dazzling stars, dancing like diamonds against his soft and freckled face. A fly lands on his nose briefly before taking off, and Richie opens his eyes. The stars are gone now, and he’s staring into the face of Pestilence. Pestilence smiles at him, and a fly crawls from his exposed nasal cavity and down into his mouth.

“I don’t think I’d mind a bit of traveling,” he finally speaks. “But, would you mind telling me where we’re going?”

“Only to my study; I think you’ll find it rather nice there. I have a lot of books, and there’s a fireplace. It’s warm there. I think you’ll like it. You’ll just have to remember to keep your distance. Like I said, I have a cold.”

“Well, where do you live?” Richie asks. “How are we getting there?”

“If you come with me, I’ll show you. Mind that you stay at least ten steps behind me.” And Richie does mind this, because the closer he gets to the creature, the sicker and weaker he feels, and he understands now that if he were to get close enough to actually touch the God, he would die.

Richie is lead around the side of the building. Light catches like orbs in his eyes and refracts in front of him in geometric patterns. The store looks cartoonish, crooked, out of place. Pestilence stops when he comes across a puddle of black oil.

“Well, this is the easiest way to get there,” He says, turning back to Richie. “Now, I want you to do something for me, kid. You see that puddle of oil?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m going to jump in it, and I’m going to disappear. You’re going to wait twenty seconds, and do the same thing. You got that?”

Richie nods, feeling strange. “But if I go in, how will I get back?”

“Don’t worry about that, kid. Just remember, wait twenty seconds.” With that the beast slips into the puddle and is gone, disappearing into the thick darkness like he had never existed in the first place, and for a moment Richie wonders if it hadn’t just been a strange hallucination after all.

Five seconds pass. Ten. Fifteen… Richie can feel an odd humming in his bones, the same kind of humming that came from old fluorescent light bulbs. Twenty seconds. Richie steps into the puddle of oil, unsure of what to expect. He finds his feet slipping, his body giving way to total blackness.

Richie rockets down into complete and utter darkness, darkness so vast and endless that it made him forget for a moment what light even is, what it meant or how it felt. A scream tears itself from his throat, but there is no sound out here in this eternal space, there is no screaming once you’re actually inside the void, all you can do is fall endlessly, faster, faster, screaming silently while every last bit of pure light gets sucked from you.

For a terrifying moment, Richie thinks his body will burst into flames, but then he’s landing with a hard THUNK on some polished mahogany floor, and all the light comes rushing back and hits Richie with a feeling so intense the closest thing he could compare it to was an orgasm. His whole body shudders, and hot vomit climbs his throat and erupts out in a cough. He feels awfully sorry for whoever has to clean the floor.

He looks up, eyes finally adjusting to the return of light, and finds that he’s in a vast library. The walls are lined with tall rows of shelves, the kind tall enough that you need a ladder to reach the books even halfway to the top. The shelves are filled with books, their bindings old and tattered, their smell ancient and pungent in the air, noticeable even over Pestilence’s rotting meat stench. There’s a thick layer of dust covering them, like they haven’t been touched in years. Two low chandeliers hang above him, each large enough to hold about fifty or so candles. Their flames dance, waxing and waning, dancing in a breeze that didn’t exist, not in whatever world this was. Pestilence sits behind a large oak desk, his body rotting. Strewn across the desk are scrolls, inkwells, large quills of phoenix feathers, plates of rotting food. To Richie’s right is a great fireplace, roaring with life; it’s flame seems brighter, redder, somehow hotter than anything he’s ever seen before. Flies buzz in the air.

“Welcome, welcome, stay over there, won’t you? Not that I don’t want you to get any closer, but, well, you know.” Pestilence smiles sadly. “Anyway, don’t worry about the vomit. I’m used to that... I’m sorry about the mess, though. You see, it’s been an awful long time since I had any visitors here. It gets rather lonely, and the lonelier I get, the harder it is to keep things clean. You know how it goes. Have a seat, won’t you?”

He gestures to something behind Richie, and Richie turns to find a chair, it’s cushions thick and upholstered with a faded floral fabric. He sits in it, and stares at Pestilence. “You said you have a story?”

“Well, yes. My story, though maybe it’s not a good one. It’s certainly not the best one, but it’s mine, and you’ll listen to it, won’t you?”

Richie sits quietly and listens as Pestilence explains how lonely it is to be the God of disease and plague, how nobody ever loved him or cared about him or wanted to be his friend, how terribly alone he had always felt. Pestilence tells him that for a long time he was angry, and that his heart was so full of hurt and pain that it ossified into hatred, and the hatred was a plague within itself, one that consumed everything. Pestilence had wiped out many lands, brought entire kingdoms to their knees, but no matter how much disease and death he spread, he never felt any better about anything. He was mighty lonely, and no matter what he did, the loneliness ate away at him like the flies on his face. Eventually his anger had died out, like a dwindling flame, and the wisdom of his age took over. Pestilence didn’t want to kill anymore, or to hurt anyone ever again, not unless he absolutely had to- and even then.... All the pain he brought upon others had done nothing to help console his own suffering, and he figured he couldn’t help that he was the God of sickness and disease, but there was no need to infect others with his misery. He had retired from his days of demolishing civilizations and now spent most of his time writing novels, or so he tells Richie.

“There are a lot of others like me,” Pestilence tells him. “Souls that are just lonely, and sad, and hurt. And maybe people are afraid of them, because they don’t understand, and maybe that doesn’t help anything. It’s a terrible feeling to be lonely, isn’t it? I’m sure you know the feeling.” Richie nods his head, and feels sad. He does know the feeling. He thinks it’s a terrible thing, what Pestilence has to go through, and he can’t imagine the pain of being a creature such as that, one no one could ever love, or get close to. He can’t imagine that, no, but he understands what Pestilence is saying about loneliness. Here in this library, he can feel the weight of it- not his just own loneliness, the one brewing deep inside, set into his bones, but a whole world’s worth of loneliness. It’s a terrible burden, really, and he wipes at his misty eyes.

“Well isn’t there any way to help them?” Richie asks now. “The lonely ones. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” spoke the beast. “I’m pestilence. I scare people. I make them sick. But you, well, there’s something you can do, of course. You’re doing it right now, you don’t even know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re sitting here right now, talking to me. Listen, everyone out there has a story. You have a story, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Sometimes, all people need is a listening ear. Someone to tell their stories too. That’s what I wanted, right, and see how happy I am now?” He does seem happier, Richie notices, and it makes him feel good. He wants to help rid the world’s creatures of their loneliness and pain; he wants to more than anything, like it was something he was meant to do all along. He wonders if maybe that wasn’t the case.

“So all I have to do is listen to their stories?”

“Everyone out there has something to say, or a reason why they are the way they are, or why they do the things they do. Some people are meant to be collectors of these stories, the way I collect the stories that I come up with in my head. My novels. Only, you don’t have to write these stories down, if you don’t want to. You just have to listen to them.”

“But how do I find them? The lonely creatures?”

“When the time is right, you’ll find them. You just will. Some of them might scare you, but it’s okay. Be kind to them. Fate has a mysterious way of working itself out, wouldn’t you agree? The things that are meant to happen, well, they happen.”

“So this is my fate, then? This is what I’m meant to do?”

“Look at it however you want. All I can tell you is, you have a gift. There’s something special inside of you, a goodness- you’re pure light, you don’t even know it. There are a lot of creatures out there that could use your help.”

It felt strange, hearing all of this coming from some sickly Godbeast. Richie felt a certain type of warmth within him, a feeling like something big was happening, or like things were about to change in a major sort of way. “So when the time comes, I’ll just know?”

“You’ll just know.”

Richie can’t help but doubt himself a little. Perhaps Pestilence was wrong, perhaps there was nothing special to him at all- but if that’s the case, how does he find himself here? And why? It has to mean something.

“Well, you should probably get home now,” Pestilence tells him. “I haven’t much more to say. But I have something to tell you, one last thing. In your travels, you’re going to come across a lot of places just like this one, some a little scarier. Try not to be afraid, but don’t stay too long. If you stay too long, or if the fire goes out, you may not be able to get back to your world.”

“If the fire goes out?”

“The fire. It’s how you get back home. And remember, the oil is how you get here. Jump into the fire now, won’t you? I promise it won’t hurt- I know it feels hot. You just have to trust me, alright?”

Richie can feel his heart thudding dully in his throat and he slides out of the chair and walks over to the fire burning brightly underneath a stone mantle. It’s hot, and he’s afraid, unable to understand how it won’t burn him. He gives a nervous sort of look at the emaciated God, who offers him a reassuring smile. “Goodbye, Richie. I hope I see you again one day, though, maybe it’s for the best if I don’t. I’m awfully ill.”

Richie wonders for a moment how the creature knows his name, because he’s sure he never told it. Then, with a hesitant step, he pushes himself into the fire. For a second, all he sees is flames, all he can smell is smoke, but the beast was right, it doesn’t hurt. For a minute there’s roaring nothingness, and then Richie is suddenly jerking upright in his own bed.

A fly, fat and lazy, buzzes across the room and lands on the wall above him.

#writing #atsalo #prose

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