So I was trying a little Corruption Arc for Goji boy( just for funsie).
Phase 1:
Talking stages, swapping stories and traumas, situations where they stand too close for normal standards. Situations WHERE stand not closer to each other feels even worse.
Phase 1½
(Both of them thinking they are falling first, but little did they know)
Phase 2
(Sorry Mothra you're gonna have the second worst wake up call of your life).
"These gays, they're trying to kill me"
Mothra, probably
P.S. Little Bonus
The old lady won that round sort of
Being petty and vindictive over your lovely beau, whenever someone mistreat them, that's Ghidorah for you.
[Warnings: I mention attempted suicide a few times, angst]
[AN: So, in true Elsie fashion, I have put way too much effort into a fucking meme. Have fun. 5666 words <3]
The universe was born through an immense explosion.
A cosmic explosion of colors that we know as the elements burst free from the nothingness and came together over eons of weaving to create the universe that we know today. It formed the bones of the universe and breathed life into the swirls we recognize as galaxies. Over time, some of those stars fell apart and came back together to create us and our entirety. You, amongst those creations, and a pesky snail. A snail who would follow you to the edges of the universe.
The first time you can remember seeing that odd snail, barely the length of your index finger, was when the first civilizations were in their heyday. You, amongst them. Though, how could you ever forget? It was a single decision you made that would change your life forever, and you believed it to be inconsequential when you first made it.
You were a young person during that time, poverty stricken, wondering how you were going to provide for your ailing loved ones. Every day was an even harder struggle as your loved ones withered away with the conditions they lived in. The poorest district in one of the richest civilizations of the early world.
Sighing, you had left your home before the sun came up, hoping to ask for another job in the markets doing anything that would bring in a few more shekels. Your shoes scuffed the ground as you took in the warm morning air. You instinctively pulled your shawl around you just a little tighter, the lack of the sun making you shiver ever so slightly. Thankfully, the sun would be shining soon, and with it, the crowds and the chatter of people. Busy, busy, busy.
You took solace in the quiet moments, pleased that there was no nagging or any responsibilities for just this soft moment in time. Your eyes looked out at the clay buildings around you, watching as they grew higher when they neared the center. A slight bitterness entered your head and your heart. The richest of the rich high up in their castles while the lowest wallowed in the slums.
You shook the thought off as the sun’s rays began to rise in the east, and with it, your anger dissipated. The ache remained.
Tiredly, you found yourself on the outer ring of the busiest part of the city’s market district. Here, you were subject to a plethora of awful, no good things. You clasped your hands around your shawl, gripping it tightly to show that you truly had nothing on you. No jewelry, no shekels, nothing. Still, people did odd things in their desperation, and that made you a target regardless of your monetary status.
Your eyes flickered around as you passed by the dark alleys, the shadows only deepening as the sun rose higher and higher in the early morning sky. You bit your lip as you scurried towards the growing hum of people. The gates were open, the morning waking up with her people.
A few shifty glances were thrown your way before you finally made it to the safety of others. Vendors, yelling in through the bustle, the rich holding stern commands over their maids, guards shuffling through to ensure the peace, children off to the fields with their parents, and the general hum of life. You took in a sharp breath and relaxed ever so slightly, looking for the vendors who seemed to be overwhelmed.
You wandered the maze of vendors and travelers who brought in foreign wares, some from neighboring, yet tinier, villages. So many things caught your eyes, specifically the clothing. How you’d love to gift your loved ones with such luxuries.
The pleasant aroma of food wafted through the air with the slight breeze that passed through, automatically turning your attention over to the stalls lined with nourishment, both needed and for gluttony. Your legs moved faster than your head did as you glided over, quietly weaving through bodies to reach the stalls. Your stomach was rumbling. How long had it been since you actually had something worthwhile to eat?
Pitifully, you reached your hands deep into your pockets and pulled up nothing. Empty, save for the dust and dirt that pooled inside of them. Your shoulders dropped as you wandered the stretch of food vendors, eyes big and sad like a lost puppy. How you longed to eat something of substance.
Your steps dragged as you walked back down the same stretch for the fourth time, knowing very well you couldn’t actually afford anything here. It was cheap, commoner food and you couldn’t even afford that. Defeated, you began to exit the place that smelled so heavenly when you heard a woman’s voice.
“Hey, hey you!” She called out. Seeing your confused expression, she nodded rapidly. “Come here, kid.”
Not one to test the commands of your elders, you turned on your heels and followed back to her stall. There, sitting on display, were delicious honey cakes, and savory foods.
“Like them?” She grins.
You nod. “I do,” you answered honestly as your stomach growled louder and louder.
The kind woman ushered you to her side, taking you under her wing after giving you a proposition: if you do the heavy lifting now that her sons have joined the king’s army, you and your loved ones would stay fed.
Of course, you took the opportunity and began work that very day, carefully attending to her bakery while bringing home delicious things to your starving loved ones. While it was nowhere near the upper class or even middle class’s luxury, you were grateful that you had an opportunity to provide.
The woman stayed up with you well past daylight, teaching you the trade so you could both take care of her business, and provide for yourself when she would release you of service. She’d always said it would be just until her sons returned, and you had no qualms about such matters as it was their birthright. But you could not deny that the bond the two of you had started was one that would last more than a lifetime.
You ended up working for this woman for many years (her name was Aruru), tending lovingly to her business and building up a friendship with her like none other. She was almost like a mother to you, seeing as you spent so many hours at her side and in her vicinity. Your own family adored her as well, often having her spend the festival seasons in your more than humble abode so she would not be lonely.
As the years passed, you, in the prime of your life, Aruru growing old and near the end of her cycle, she called you to her side.
You entered the room that was once yours, watching as light flickered just barely in her eyes.
She tiredly held her hand up to you, seeing what a beautiful adult you’d become. “Come here, my child,” she said softly. Her sons had never returned from duty. You were all she had left.
Shakily, you stepped forward and kneeled at her side, body hunched over slightly to gaze into her eyes from where she lay on the straw may. “Mother,” you said softly, as you leaned into her touch, her hand warmly pressing your cheek. Her thumb lovingly wiped your tears away.
The two of you just… talked. Little memories, stories from her long life, and everything in between. The love she felt for you was immense, and she constantly reminded you that you were her third and final child. She laughed with you, and brought you safety that you thought you would never be able to feel ever again without her in your life.
You poured your heart out to her, telling her how thankful you were that she called out to you that one morning. You told her how besides your mother that tearfully listened in the other room, she too, was your mother. You couldn’t bring yourself to letting her hand go off your cheek as the two of you quietly spoke. The candle light only grew brighter as the moon rose higher in the sky.
The light was beginning to dim in her eyes once more, body slowly beginning to fail her.
You furrowed your brows, feeling warm tears cascade down your cheeks before you sniffled.
She breathily chuckled, not meanly, before bringing your head down further, her lips pressing to the crown of your head. “I never want you to worry in your life,” she said, “I want you to be provided for.”
You cocked your head to the side. Your eyes were still clouded with tears.
Aruru lifted her head, the tone turning serious. “On the windowsill is a snail,” she said, “he’s harmless to you now. Please, bring him to me, but do not let him touch me.”
On wobbling knees, you stood and walked over to the windowsill. There was indeed a snail. He looked like any ordinary garden snail. You reached your hand out to his shell before carefully plucking him, holding him as if he were fragile. Quietly, you came back to Aruru’s side before dropping to your knees once more, holding the snail out to her, but not letting him touch her. You watched with curious eyes as his eyes hone in on her.
“I made a covenant with him many years ago,” Aruru began, “He has given me money beyond my wildest dreams and safety from everything but himself. I have lived longer than what is gracious,” she coldly laughed before devolving into a fit of coughs. Her dark eyes briefly looked up to the snail, “just a few more minutes, please,” she said, lightly waving off the small creature.
You kneeled there, flabbergasted at what she was telling you. “Mother, please, I ask you to jest not-”
“It’s not,” she cut you off, “make a covenant with him too and you will be provided for for the rest of your life.”
Her hand gently brushed your cheek once more, a maternal smile on her lips before she held an open palm out for the snail.
He slithered from your fingers to her hand.
You saw Aruru’s face fall from maternal grace to one of slight fear, her brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. The snail rested on her palm, looking expectedly up at her. She paused for a moment or two before the toxins set in, a sharp, piercing pain over taking her heart as she dropped her hand on the ground, eyes rolling upwards. Pain etched onto her face before the most peaceful slumber you’ve ever seen followed after her.
You wanted to cry, or scream, perhaps a mixture of both before you reached out to touch her. Your fingers moved to her shoulder, and just like that, her body collapsed to dust, the particles floating upwards before disappearing in flickers like a flame, absorbed by the moonlight
You say there, slack jawed. In horror, you scrambled backwards from the snail that turned his attention to you. “Wh-What did you do-”
“Will you make a covenant with me?” He asks.
The voice reverberates through the back of your skull, bouncing around your head like the echoes in a grand hall. He has a deep voice, but it is not unpleasant, nor is it pleasing.
“What?”
The snail sighs deeply, slowly crawling over to you before stopping a healthy distance. “I will provide you physical safety, riches beyond your wildest beliefs, and you will not succumb to death unless,” he pauses and glances back to where Aruru had just perished, “unless it is by my hand.”
You blink, still clearing the tears from your eyes
“I understand that this is a lot to take in,” he continues, his voice soft, and almost understanding. “But it’s what she would have wanted.”
Something about the mention of Aruru makes your heart ache, and through the clouded fog of newfound grief, you make a covenant with him. You learn that if you are caught by him, you will succumb to death. It will be painful, and entirely different from how Aruru perished. It changes with every person he touches.
You accepted this covenant with grace.
The world blossomed and bloomed around you after that.
Things changed, exponentially. You and your family were able to move from the slums to a richer neighborhood, provided for on all fronts and it had never been questioned once. You kept Aruru’s bakery and hired other people to take care of it in lieu of you. Though, you do like stopping in once and while to actually help and ensure things would be up to Aruru’s standards.
More years passed, and besides the occasional crossing with the snail, you’d lived in luxury.
You continued to live in luxury for centuries later, losing your loved ones along the way. No human would ever live as long as you have, and that would be a cold hard truth you’d discover and rediscover with every human you’d ever loved and will love. Living in that great civilization was no longer great once the years started rolling by without anyone you loved to really call your own. You’d had spouses, and children, watched as they all grew estranged to you as the generations continued.
There was one notable point in which you’d tried to take your life.
“Is this necessary?” The snail asked, his brown shell glowing in the setting sun as he sat next to you on the top of the mountain.
You nodded, “I’m tired,” you replied. “I don’t want this anymore.”
The snail reached out towards you, in which you strongly pulled away. He laughed. “You’re not ready to go yet.”
You kept your distance from the snail and shook your head once more. “I’m just not ready to go by you.” You stepped off the mountain, your body falling towards the earth. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, praying death would accept you.
But when you reached the bottom, you found yourself standing upright, eyes still glued shut waiting for the impact that would never come. Your body certainly felt the pain as if you’d fallen all that way, but you were left unscathed.
Looking down at you from the top of the mountain was the snail, already making his way to your space.
Your heart was heavy, and this land would no longer be called your home.
You watched as the Mesopotamian empire and world fell and ran off to Egypt. You saw pharaohs, deities walking the earth, and civilization modernized before your eyes. Time and time again, you had been compensated. Egypt was a foreign land compared to your original home, and technically under the ptolemies. What an odd bunch. Cleopatra, one of the most alluring women of her time for her intelligence, killed by an asp. Or so the story goes.
When Egypt had lost your interest, you moved into Europe to Rome. The Roman empire was everything and more, and so too were the surrounding civilizations that attempted to grow but were quickly stamped out. You watched somewhat from a distance as the rest of Europe did its thing, getting involved with various lifestyles along the way.
You travelled to South Asia, East Asia, made it out to the islands in the south and so on, all back in time to see the Medieval Ages in their highest point. Courtly love, religion, you saw it all experiencing history as it was being built.
But nothing could make you forget the pain you felt of feeling alone, oh so alone.
There was one time you’d managed to become nobility right around the time of the bubonic plague. The snail hadn’t shown his head for a few years and you’d been worried, perhaps he’d been taken out by the plague instead. But he came to you one cold winter morning, a curious little mask on his face in the shape of a bird’s beak.
“It’s nice to see you,” you hummed, looking out at the town below you. There’s houses on fire and you can smell death in the air.
“Are you tired yet?” The snail inquires, cocking his beak covered face over to you.
You take in a deep breath and watch as the smoke rises high in the morning sky. It’s black, billowing like soured prayers to a god who does not wish to answer them. “No.”
The snail pauses. “No? Not after all of this?” He looks out as the ash mixes in with the falling snow. “Why?”
You shrug your shoulders slightly and smooth the ruffles of your clothing. You do still have appearances to keep up despite it feeling like the end times. You know far too much about the book of revelations thanks to the monks of this time period. You sigh and rest your hand on your cheek. “Maybe next century,” you say to the snail before calling for a guard. You realize that you mustn’t keep the king and queen waiting any longer.
You’ve met so many historical figures throughout your life it should be a crime, and some of them you’d just barely missed.
The snail watches in slight confusion as the guard enters the room, picks him up with just as much confusion, before he’s ferried out on a traveler’s horse to some other part of the world.
It goes on like this for far longer than you care to admit. You pick up during the night, money to spare, and start again and again and again and again. It’s painful, but it offers you a fresh perspective in every sense. You try to take your life a few more times, and somehow the snail appears directly at your side whenever those moments happen. He looks at you, asks you if you’re ready and you always say yes.
“But you’re not,” he says. “I know you’re not.” He slithers closer to you. He’s teetering dangerously close to you on the branch he’s overlooking you on.
“Why’s that?” You ask as you look out at this fresh new land they call “America”. You arrived on the Mayflower not that long ago. The air here smells sweet but is tinged with iron. You assume it’s foreshadowing for history. It always carries that same smell.
The snail crawls closer and closer still. “You’ll never be ready. You’re a runner.”
You hold the pistol up to your head. The river rushing below would be enough to finish the job on anyone if the gun didn’t. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone, “if you weren’t, you would have let me claim your life by now.”
You can’t tell if he’s being facetious or he actually cares about you.
Not dwelling on the thought any longer, you watch as the sun rises high in the sky and pull the trigger. The bullet bounces into your skull, sending you flying down into the water. You hit the rocks, tumbling like a ragdoll, before finding yourself safely lying on your back on the muddy shore. You look up at the blue, cloudy sky, and take in a deep breath before chuckling the pistol into the raging river.
Maybe he was right.
You watched as this nation grew, and rapidly at that. You’ve never seen a civilization grow as fast as North America. You watched as the British attempted to take it back, how the colonists fought them off, watched as the native people spilled their blood in a home that’s always been theirs, the religious revivals, a civil war, the first of many civil rights outcries - it’s loud.
This is a loud piece of land that was once as quiet as the moon sinking into the sea.
Humans always mess things up, that much you know for certain. Through the centuries that you’ve lived and the history that you’ve seen, everything bad has only happened because some humans forget how to act. Honestly, it’s made you more than cynical, and you hate to admit it. When you were a young person, living in what’s now known as an ancient piece of land, life was simple and sweet. There was a binary of good and evil where the lines only somewhat crossed and you were more than happy to exist the way you did. Aruru and your family treated you well and you had love.
Who knew being immortal would be so painful? You’ve asked that question so many times and still have no proper answer. You’ve tried seeing therapists, talking to deeply trusted friends, but none of it works.
No one understand immortality like an immortal.
Of course, the snail is in this country too. He watches the birth of America and how it develops alongside you, all the while you evade his touch. You see mankind take flight like the goddesses of old, hear the roar of the 20s and the sadness that follows when the party's over. There’s not one, but two world wars - and you participated in both.
They called you unbreakable. You were heroic.
But by the 2010s, they’d forgotten you. A name once again lost to time. It’s almost incredible how fast people will forget.
The snail catches up with you a few times. He almost touches you, nearly robbing you of your wealth. Apparently, Aruru has become a household name from one of her distant descendants you thought deserved the business more than you did. You still hold a share in it though, so somewhere in the back of your head, you think you’re doing right by her and wherever she resides in the great beyond.
Humanity progresses even faster. You and the snail watch as humanity survives yet another pandemic, and you eventually see them head off for the stars. Mars was amongst the biggest talking points, and you wonder if you should focus your own interests there. You have more than enough money to provide for it, make your own company, reach for them yourself. The snail has never let you live in poverty from the moment you struck your covenant with him. You are cared for beyond your wildest dreams.
A sigh leaves your lips and you found that Earth was damn near uninhabitable. Humans made it to the stars but their travels were finite. You knew that, and of course, the snail knew that too. How he managed to get on the exact same star ship as you you will never be certain of.
“And how are you this evening, Runner?” He asks, his small form on the windowsill of a large window that looks out at that cosmos. Runner is a nickname he’s taken up to calling you right around the time the 60s rolled in. It’s stuck ever since much to your chagrin.
You take in a small breath and gaze out at the stars burning, burning brightly and oh so far away in the cold, vastness of space. “How are you so sure that it’s evening?”
He hums. “Time passes differently for me than it does you.”
“Is that so?” You catch him nodding in the corner of your eye. “What do you think about this new planet we’re heading to?”
“It will be the same as the one we have just left.”
He’s right. Of course, he’s right. You and these others that have taken to the stars colonize this new planet and history slowly repeats itself.
These are the millenia that pass as a blur. It’s the same thing, over and over.
You watch as humanity loves and loses, war and famine, the rains that come after, it happens again and again. Humanity is forever doomed to repeat what it’s always done, which is quarrel and love. You grew numb to the feeling, emotions passing as a blur, but yet, you could not stop running.
You paused when the sun of your home galaxy burned out. You watched as she grew hotter and hotter before finally burning the last of her fuel. She’d died, and the home you once loved had been no more.
You spent a while in a cave on some hidden planet living a hermit lifestyle after that. All of human history as it had once been, now lost forever and only kept in your head and your head alone. It was a sad bedtime story you’d repeat to yourself when the nights were the closest and the double moons were highest in the sky. And sometimes? Sometimes the snail would stop by to hear the story as well.
Even though he was there to take your life, you’d always had the feeling that he too, was yearning for a home the two of you could never return to.
Eons continued to pass, years blurring into each other as the galaxies and star systems began to use the last of their fuel and burn brilliantly to their deaths. Stars grew darker and darker in the night sky, their light no longer gifts from the gods but corpses that burned coldly in the depths of space. Planets are discovered time and time again with extensive histories and you watch as every single one of them crumbles in the same predictable pattern. Humanoid life form or not, we all succumb to the same story. Just change the names, languages and species.
There’s only one constant in your life and that’s the snail. He follows you through the vastness of space, through the graveyards of galaxies and attempts to take from you currency that you don’t even know the name of.
And he continues to do this until the last of all intelligent lifeforms dry up. In fact, you were there when the final creature perished. You held her wheezing form as she choked on toxic water, glassy eyes and sharp maw, frilled lungs attempting to take the air from the liquid she was surrounded in. She was in so much pain, the last of her kind, the last of anything besides you and the snail, stuck on a planet that would be burned from an exploding star.
“Let go,” you said, watching as her fins fluttered helplessly in the water. “It’s over. It’s all over.”
Her multiple eyes glared at you, a shrill shriek leaving her mouth.
You hummed softly and looked at her gently. Your gaze said it all.
And slowly, in your hands, the last creature closed her eyes and joined all the others who rest eternally.
It’s been a damn near lonely existence since then. You pick up the skeletons of objects made by intelligent creatures. Like your fellow humans once did, you take to the stars.
“You’re bringing me with you?” The snail asks as you hold the doors open. “I could kill you in your sleep.”
“You’ve been saying that for the past millennia,” you chuckle, “if you really wanted to, you would’ve by now.”
The snail slowly crawls up the ramp. “Point taken, Runner.”
The two of you became really nomadic for a while. You saw a lot of stars die during that time. And eventually, none of it was exciting anymore.
Throughout the years, you and the snail have done a lot of talking. You are each other’s only company in the entire universe. He’s your worst enemy and your truest friend all in one breath.
Eventually, your ship broke down, a metallic floating graveyard. The universe had never been so dark before. Things deteriorate.
Now there is nothing. Nothing but the two of you.
“It’s almost time,” the snail says, his voice soft and low as he floats in the emptiness around you. He’s close to you, oh so close but not enough to lay his lethal touch on you. “You and I both know that.”
You can hardly see him, but you know his image very well. The light of a dying, lone star light years away is the only thing offering a glimmer of light that allows you to see the faintest brush of him. A part of you wants to hold your hand out to touch him, to get it over with and see what’s awaiting you in the ending you’ve cheated yourself out of all the way from Mesopotamia to now. “I know,” you reply.
The vastness of space is so empty and cold. If you glanced around and weren’t so focused on the only living being left in the entire universe that floated in front of you, you’d get the sense you were in the same place that the Milky Way used to exist. Your home, your humble planet, perished eons ago. It is but a ghost in your memory, a place lost to thought. And you are one of the only two beings to have intimately lived that experience.
The star in the distance flickers, and with it, your attention. It’s so far, so lonely, its light is getting weaker and weaker.
“Is it… Is it dying?” You ask softly, voice fragile and soft. You’re waiting to feel your parent’s arms wrap around your form, take you into their arms and pepper your face in kisses. They’d tell you it’s all a bad dream, and the things you’ve seen, the things you’ve outlived and outrun, were nothing more than fantasies conjured up in a head that’s reverted back to a child-like state. How you long to feel the touch of another person who genuinely loves you, but they’re gone. Humans as you have known them have been dead for billions of years.
The snail somehow floats a little closer to you. “It’s been dead,” he says.
You look out at the star, watching as it fizzles brighter and brighter. You recognize it as a dance of death. “She’s leaving us, isn’t she?”
“It’s been dead for a long time. You’re technically looking at a white dwarf.”
Tears well in your eyes. “What?” You croak as you reach your hands up to wipe away the beads of pearling liquids. The ones that you don’t catch float off into the icy chill of space.
“When those gamma rays pass us, and alarmingly fast they come,” he begins, inching just a little closer to you, “gravity will pull the corpses of the universe as we know it back inwards to the center as she knows it.”
You bring your knees up to your chest and nod for him to continue. Lonely, you feel so lonely.
The snail looks at you gently, almost as if after all these years he still hates seeing your heart break. “The universe will fold in on itself, and reality as you know it will cease to exist.”
It’s not the first time you’ve watched the universe “die”, in fact, it must be the third. The snail had waited those times out with you as well, voice low and soft as the two of you waited out what felt like eternity in the vast nothingness. You know that this is truly it.
He hasn’t ever posed this question to you ever before, not in the trillions of years the two of you have been running, this is truly it.
“Are the rays close?” You ask in a small whisper, for the first time in years feeling fear at the unknown.
The snail nods, watching as you draw closer to him. “Closer than you could ever imagine.”
“And will it hurt?”
He nods again. “The worst pain you could ever imagine, or,” he hums, “a gentle mist. It changes for every person I have ever seen.”
A cold laugh escapes your lips as the universe is plunged into darkness. There is nothing here but the two of you, floating in an eternal emptiness.
He cocks his head at you but you do not see it. You feel it instead. “Trillions of years learning to love and let go, seeing the birth of nations and galaxies alike, taking to the stars, all to avoid you and here we are in the end,” you cruelly mumble. You can feel heat surging in the distance. The hair on the back of your neck raises.
The snail sighs and nods. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Runner?”
“That it has,” you reply.
A silence falls between the two of you. The heat is growing closer and closer. Sweat is beginning to bead on your brow. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
“I’ve waited so long for you to say that.”
“Will it happen instantly?”
“No.”
“And this isn’t some cruel joke?”
“I do not jest, and have never in all my years of service.”
“This is the end?”
“This is the end.”
A deep breath leaves your lips as you hold your hand out, a nonverbal acceptance that he’s allowed to touch you after all these years of distance. You can hear shuffling in the dark. He hovers over your hand.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
You take in a sharp breath and listen as your heart thumps thickly in your chest. The fear that grips you is almost suffocating.
“What troubles you so?” He asks.
You take in a shaky breath. “You won’t leave my side, will you?” You ask quietly, voice a hair above a whisper.
“I never have in all these years,” he offers as a reply.
You gulp thickly. The tears begin to surround your head like the rings of planets you once loved. “Okay.” It’s a decision you’ve been seriously thinking about for eons. One that’s been held in the back of your head, dangling over you like a storm cloud that would never clear.
“Okay.” His touch hovers just above you, eyes gazing at you softly through the darkness. “Goodnight, dear Runner.”
You laugh before dissolving into choked sobs, “goodnight to you too.” You reach your hands up, finally resting that tiny snail on your palms, and just like the universe will in a few moments, you collapse and fold in on yourself.
It is true that this UNO design looks quite minimalistic and modern; however, its color scheme of more black and less of its well-known set of red, yellow, green, and blue does trouble some of the public. It is very probable that this style can make one feel like they need a classier or more elegant setting in order to play it properly, which was almost surely never the case in terms of the cards that have been in play for many years. In the image above (source below), the original set is compared to a Fiat Multipla (Type 186), which was in production from 1998-2013--while the newest UNO is compared to a Lamborghini Aventador, which started in 2011 and is still being produced today. The Multipla is often made fun of because of its shape, which is looked at as peculiar or just plain ugly, compared to other cars. It has won multiple “Ugliest Car” awards, as well. Its color, in this photo, which is red, typically signifies playfulness or adventurousness within products. The Aventador, however, is and has always been generally thought of as a luxury car. Additionally, it has an added spoiler--signifying speed (and an added price, as well). Its color, which is black, is typically thought of as classy because of its soft sheen and ability to be unnoticed. It is also comparatively drastically more expensive than the Multipla--the original price of the Fiat is currently unknown, but with questionably accurate math, the Aventador is worth about 3500 times the worth of the Multipla’s worth in 1988, which was its beginning year, and car values lower over time. Comparing these two cars with the sets of cards show that people will think of UNO as more of a high-class card game, which in turn may raise its prices, since most things thought of as luxurious are proportionally more expensive than similar products in their fields. Tabletop games are intended to be fun and easy--but with this new set, they soon might no longer be looked at this way.
So my friends send me a video about types of fanfics writers and we were discussing about which type matched our writing. Our writing... Which is basically a total 3 words per month.
When it got to my part it didn't took them long to point out I was the angst one.
Which if you haven't seen the video, I highly recommend it:
Also!
You have no idea of the power I hold in my hands....
I just don't know how to translate my brain words into actual words, because of my fear of failure
But anyway, these ideas came up that basically describe my writing.
I unfortunately don't have the time nor self-esteem to turn them into a comic, but I still hope you guys liked it!
The "would you serve an evil ruler" line in Lachesis' dialogue makes me wonder, for the AU meme... Lachesis/Micaiah?
Lachesis was quite surprised when the strange girl that Sigurd had taken out of Verdane spoke. “No, my Lady Lachesis is right. We can’t let King Shagall continues the way he has, harming the people and causing wanton destruction. And if we don’t act now, I fear for your brother’s life.”
Micaiah’s golden eyes on her were intense and sad. She was such an odd girl, quiet yet implacable. Even though she had followed Sigurd, claiming foresight from the gods destined her to accompany him, she seldom frequented the Grandvelian knights, preferring the company of the young thief and now Lachesis herself, who didn’t quite know what to do with her.
“However, we cannot let Lord Sigurd lead the army either, for any victory of the Granvelle army will lead to a loss of Agustrian autonomy. That’s why, my lady Lachesis,” and she knelt gracefully in front of the princess, “You need to lead the army to Lord Eldigan’s rescue.”
Eltshan/Grahnye, Lachesis/any, Grahnye tries to be matchmaker for her sister-in-law
Lord Nodion had smiled and said “I leave these matters to you, my dear,” last time Grahnye had brought up the topic, and so she’d tasked herself to finding the right party.
Little had she expect how difficult the task would prove. All through the night of the ball, her sister-in-law had accepted one dance, and not one more, from each of the gentlemen that she’d taken the pain of introducing her with. She was starting to suspect her of ill-intent, as Lady Lachesis’ words took a sharper and more ironic turn each time, chasing off in anger or humiliation those poor young men.
Lord Lex was too brash. Lord Azel was too easily cowed. Captain Noish was too dull. Even Duke Edda was too gloomy.
What a shame, she had tried so hard to make her happy! What a contrary creature her sister-in-law was! But she knew her dear husband thought the world of his precious sister, so she resolved once more to find the right person.
Greeting her dear friend Duke Manster the next day, she caught the admirative glance his ward Captain Finn was throwing in Lady Lachesis’ direction. To be pursued? The boy was young and not yet quite polished, but if his carreer in the military proved successful, (and with as good a s patron as Duke Manster, how could it be otherwise?) then mayhaps…
Unless of course Lady Lachesis would deem this one too boring again. Grahnye sighed.
