Ｃａｓｓｅｌ Ｓｈａｒｐｅ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
patheticvillain) wrote2015-03-23 01:16 pm
patheticvillain) wrote2015-03-23 01:16 pm
fifty ➢ video ( cw bodyhorror )
video
This is bullshit.
["This" being the black, silky ears he's sprouted in the wake of the flood. His long tail, equally black and twitching with irritation, pokes out from under his blanket, where he's curled up and sulking. The camera's at a skewed angle, balanced on the edge of his pillow.]
I just woke up like this. I didn't even do it. If it's gonna happen, I want to at least be the one to do it. I want . . .
[He trails off, his eyes distant and dull. When they snap back into focus, he sits up slowly, blankets falling around him, and narrows his eyes.]
It's supposed to hurt.
[And then he begins to change: skin rippling, body changing, limbs twisting. He grows a third arm, and then a fourth, the new ones vestigial, skinless, ugly. Growths emerge across his face, limning his high cheekbones. He curls up in the fetal position; you can hear bones crack, shift, curl, and break. All the while he's crying out in a dog's whine, an ugly helpless yet somehow angry noise. The blankets tangle around his shifting feet as they grow bark and tentacles and recede into stubs.]
[Eventually, endlessly, he is still. The ears and tail have gone completely.]
This is bullshit.
["This" being the black, silky ears he's sprouted in the wake of the flood. His long tail, equally black and twitching with irritation, pokes out from under his blanket, where he's curled up and sulking. The camera's at a skewed angle, balanced on the edge of his pillow.]
I just woke up like this. I didn't even do it. If it's gonna happen, I want to at least be the one to do it. I want . . .
[He trails off, his eyes distant and dull. When they snap back into focus, he sits up slowly, blankets falling around him, and narrows his eyes.]
It's supposed to hurt.
[And then he begins to change: skin rippling, body changing, limbs twisting. He grows a third arm, and then a fourth, the new ones vestigial, skinless, ugly. Growths emerge across his face, limning his high cheekbones. He curls up in the fetal position; you can hear bones crack, shift, curl, and break. All the while he's crying out in a dog's whine, an ugly helpless yet somehow angry noise. The blankets tangle around his shifting feet as they grow bark and tentacles and recede into stubs.]
[Eventually, endlessly, he is still. The ears and tail have gone completely.]
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[He stretches out until he's resting more or less across Chris's lap, a limp noodle of a boy.]
So tell me your dreams or whatever.
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Jesus christ you're heavy. Cut back on the Ho-Hos, man, would you?
I dunno. I like living in New York, maybe just not my New York. Maybe Spider-man's New York.
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[He settles back on Chris's lap and blinks up at the ceiling.]
As long as we can make sure people are okay. Like Anya and Zane and everybody. As long as we don't get cut off.
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Yeah. That's what I'm worried about. But man, we're not meant to stay here forever, y'know.
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You need to go now?
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Okay. I'd go with you wherever, you know? Whenever.
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I mean, you've got a say here, too. Any weird fantasy islands you wanted to venture to?
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