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rainbowfic2015-07-03 08:32 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-03 08:32 pm
Dragon Scale Green 4, Alien Green 10
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Dragon Scale Green, Summer Carnival), Novelty Beads ("Humiliation, investigation/And if you cross your fingers, rehabilitation" -- "Know Your Rights" by The Clash)
Characters: Spenser
Colors: Dragon Scale Green 4 ("Better to sit all night than to go to bed with a dragon." ― Proverb), Alien Green 10 (No matter how paranoid you are, you're not paranoid enough.)
Word Count: 920
Rating: R
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Spenser keeps himself busy.
Note: All commentary good by me!
Don’t (Dis)believe Everything You Think
I’ve been going like this for three days. It seems stupid, but I have my reasons. The night is young, the moon is up, new blueprints, new parts, new plasma channel, new plan, new method. Every hour spent sleeping is a setback. Every hour spent even trying to sleep is a trap, a thousand pits I can fall into. Every undirected thought knocks me sideways. So I do my best to direct them. Hands on the tools; eyes on the schematics, unwavering. Every perfectly connected wire confirms my status as the physical patron god of my own life. Confirms that I can give form to the formless, unite the parts in the whole, draw something out of nothing. That order vs. chaos isn’t a struggle, it’s a choice. Choose freely, choose wisely. Choose freely, choose wisely, choose freely, choose wisely. I run it through my brain until it becomes a mantra and then loses all meaning. It doesn’t need meaning. It just needs to be a buffer, to hold off all the thoughts I could be thinking in its place. To be my soundtrack while I watch my hands.
It’s far from perfect. Every few minutes, a gap widens and something slips through. Something from the part of my mind that I don’t go to anymore. The dark back room that I’d boarded up. I don’t try to shove it back where it came from, though I used to try. Until I figured out it doesn’t work. Since I can’t get rid of it, I just do my best to understand. I write it down, dust myself off, and get back to work. I’m trying to find some pattern to these thoughts and images so I can get at the weak spot and break it. Not much luck so far, but I think I can see several things emerging. And I guess that’s the problem. I see the bones on which a thousand different patterns could hang themselves.
Tonight alone, crawling all over my notebook, in the margins and on the backs of the blueprints, I have:
The wall goes soft. I stick my arm inside and pull it back, clutching a trophy from the dimension next door. I set it down on the table and everything disintegrates in a cascade, taking me with it.
A vending machine spits out the wrong drink, over and over again. (Justified, this happened to me before.)
I drill a small hole in my skull. I cut off the socket end of an extension cord and strip off some of the casing. I plug it in, and jam the naked wires into my brain.
My lower jaw cracks out of joint and falls to the ground. I probably shouldn’t have been talking so fast.
I trip and fall into an elevator, which then starts going up without warning and shears off my legs.
A pen starts writing in four different colors, and it isn’t even a four-color pen. Whenever I try to control the color with my mind, it starts writing in a fifth color, one I’ve never seen before. It doesn’t really exist and kind of hurts my eyes. I get the idea I’m being punished for messing with something I shouldn’t.
One day, I wake up with a third arm growing out of my chest, and I’m actually pretty psyched, because I could work faster, but then it tries to strangle me and refuses to do anything else.
I can generate electric shocks with my hands, but each use sacrifices some of the atomic bonds in my body. I use it a lot because I’m not thinking and deteriorate into a fine mist of base elements within the week.
They have me chained to the wall in a grey room with no windows. (Note: I only know it’s grey because I’m imagining myself from the outside.) I’m blindfolded and gagged. Tubes run in and out of my body, doing everything for it so I can stay chained up. This happened because someone fished a Styrofoam coffee cup I’d chewed on out of the trash.
Nothing quite makes sense taken together, not just yet, but that last one makes sense all on its own. At this point, I feel like it’s a pretty rational concern. I did chew on a cup and throw it away. I was careless. It’s the kind of thing I would normally hoard in my car and then burn. Because they actually can dig it out and match that trace of dry spit to some blood or hair I left behind while I was out on the job, and once they do that, it’s only a matter of time. They’ll find me, they’ll search every hole nature drilled in my body and a few they made themselves, then they’ll chain me to the wall. I don’t think they have a room exactly like that, but they’d smack me around a little and lock me up somewhere. Or strap me to a gurney and slam a needle full of something through my arm, and I’d be dead before I even had time to think, I’m dead.
That isn’t how I want to go.
I’d break the cord and drive it into my brain before I let that happen.
So I just have to be careful. Eat with my hands. Burn everything I touch that will catch on fire. Move quickly. Keep busy.
Stay awake.
Write everything down.
And always, always, do my best to understand.
Now get back to work.
starphotographsStory: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Dragon Scale Green, Summer Carnival), Novelty Beads ("Humiliation, investigation/And if you cross your fingers, rehabilitation" -- "Know Your Rights" by The Clash)
Characters: Spenser
Colors: Dragon Scale Green 4 ("Better to sit all night than to go to bed with a dragon." ― Proverb), Alien Green 10 (No matter how paranoid you are, you're not paranoid enough.)
Word Count: 920
Rating: R
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Spenser keeps himself busy.
Note: All commentary good by me!
I’ve been going like this for three days. It seems stupid, but I have my reasons. The night is young, the moon is up, new blueprints, new parts, new plasma channel, new plan, new method. Every hour spent sleeping is a setback. Every hour spent even trying to sleep is a trap, a thousand pits I can fall into. Every undirected thought knocks me sideways. So I do my best to direct them. Hands on the tools; eyes on the schematics, unwavering. Every perfectly connected wire confirms my status as the physical patron god of my own life. Confirms that I can give form to the formless, unite the parts in the whole, draw something out of nothing. That order vs. chaos isn’t a struggle, it’s a choice. Choose freely, choose wisely. Choose freely, choose wisely, choose freely, choose wisely. I run it through my brain until it becomes a mantra and then loses all meaning. It doesn’t need meaning. It just needs to be a buffer, to hold off all the thoughts I could be thinking in its place. To be my soundtrack while I watch my hands.
It’s far from perfect. Every few minutes, a gap widens and something slips through. Something from the part of my mind that I don’t go to anymore. The dark back room that I’d boarded up. I don’t try to shove it back where it came from, though I used to try. Until I figured out it doesn’t work. Since I can’t get rid of it, I just do my best to understand. I write it down, dust myself off, and get back to work. I’m trying to find some pattern to these thoughts and images so I can get at the weak spot and break it. Not much luck so far, but I think I can see several things emerging. And I guess that’s the problem. I see the bones on which a thousand different patterns could hang themselves.
Tonight alone, crawling all over my notebook, in the margins and on the backs of the blueprints, I have:
The wall goes soft. I stick my arm inside and pull it back, clutching a trophy from the dimension next door. I set it down on the table and everything disintegrates in a cascade, taking me with it.
A vending machine spits out the wrong drink, over and over again. (Justified, this happened to me before.)
I drill a small hole in my skull. I cut off the socket end of an extension cord and strip off some of the casing. I plug it in, and jam the naked wires into my brain.
My lower jaw cracks out of joint and falls to the ground. I probably shouldn’t have been talking so fast.
I trip and fall into an elevator, which then starts going up without warning and shears off my legs.
A pen starts writing in four different colors, and it isn’t even a four-color pen. Whenever I try to control the color with my mind, it starts writing in a fifth color, one I’ve never seen before. It doesn’t really exist and kind of hurts my eyes. I get the idea I’m being punished for messing with something I shouldn’t.
One day, I wake up with a third arm growing out of my chest, and I’m actually pretty psyched, because I could work faster, but then it tries to strangle me and refuses to do anything else.
I can generate electric shocks with my hands, but each use sacrifices some of the atomic bonds in my body. I use it a lot because I’m not thinking and deteriorate into a fine mist of base elements within the week.
They have me chained to the wall in a grey room with no windows. (Note: I only know it’s grey because I’m imagining myself from the outside.) I’m blindfolded and gagged. Tubes run in and out of my body, doing everything for it so I can stay chained up. This happened because someone fished a Styrofoam coffee cup I’d chewed on out of the trash.
Nothing quite makes sense taken together, not just yet, but that last one makes sense all on its own. At this point, I feel like it’s a pretty rational concern. I did chew on a cup and throw it away. I was careless. It’s the kind of thing I would normally hoard in my car and then burn. Because they actually can dig it out and match that trace of dry spit to some blood or hair I left behind while I was out on the job, and once they do that, it’s only a matter of time. They’ll find me, they’ll search every hole nature drilled in my body and a few they made themselves, then they’ll chain me to the wall. I don’t think they have a room exactly like that, but they’d smack me around a little and lock me up somewhere. Or strap me to a gurney and slam a needle full of something through my arm, and I’d be dead before I even had time to think, I’m dead.
That isn’t how I want to go.
I’d break the cord and drive it into my brain before I let that happen.
So I just have to be careful. Eat with my hands. Burn everything I touch that will catch on fire. Move quickly. Keep busy.
Stay awake.
Write everything down.
And always, always, do my best to understand.
Now get back to work.
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Thank you! :)