pot-o-stu

[pot-o-stu]

“So… You’re real.”

“That is correct.”

We sit in silence for several more awkward moments. It’s kind of strange, talking to them through a pane of bulletproof glass, when we had spent the last two years holed up alone on a ship together. Also, I’m pretty sure they could easily break the glass, as well as the cuffs that tether them to the desk in the middle of the bare, clinically white and pristine room.

Why don’t they escape?

“Are you frightened?”

Their question jolts me from my own, and I have to blink a few times in order to reorient myself back into reality. They’re staring at me expectantly, but not impatiently. In fact, they appear to be just as calm and collected as they had been since the day I met them.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” I mumble in response, shifting my eyes from side to side. They follow my gaze, then return their sights to me and smile softly.

“It is quite alright. They cannot hear us.”

I quirk my brow. They sigh.

“The equations are too complex to explain to you while you exist within your compromised state of being.”

I smirk. “Compromised, eh? What, the bags under my eyes that hard to miss?”

They shake their head. “I was referring to your mental state. You appear troubled,” they reply calmly. Their smile is gone.

A frown finds its way onto my face before I can stop it. “Uh. Yeah? Because they’re going to kill you. You… You realize that, right?”

They tilt their head, as if puzzled by that seemingly obvious revelation. Or at least, I thought it was obvious. “Why would they do that?” they inquire, and the naiveté made apparent by their tone makes my heart ache.

A deep sigh leaves me as I ruffle a hand through my greasy hair. I am reminded that I haven’t showered in a few days. “Humans… We don’t really like things that are…” I pause, and avert my eyes before finishing with what I can only describe as a pang of guilt: “…different.”

“Do you like me?” they ask, without skipping a beat. My eyes widen and I snap my gaze back to them, almost offended by the question.

“Yeah, of course!” I respond without hesitation. “But… I don’t know, maybe I’m… ALSO different.”

More silence ensues.

“…Well. Perhaps this is as good of a time as any to tell you the truth.”

Now it is my turn to look puzzled. I squint at them and mutter in response, “What are you talking about?…”

“The truth,” they begin, then they pause and inhale deeply before finishing, “is that you are not, in fact, human.”

You’re an astronaut sent on a solo deep space mission. To combat the loneliness, you’ve created an imaginary friend who you interact with every day. Upon finally returning, mission control stops you. An unidentified lifeform has been detected on your ship.

[pot-o-stu]

The Burning Building Theory

I measure how much I like somebody in a very simple way. I call it the “Burning Building Theory.” Picture a burning building. You’re inside it. And as you’re making your escape, you see someone trapped. How much you like said person is as follows:

* You’d do everything in your power to save them. You’d refuse to leave without them. If you can’t get them out, you’ll die trying. Hell, you might even sacrifice your own life to save theirs. This kind of person is your “best friend.”

* You’d try your hardest to save them. You’d use every ounce of strength you have. But if it seems impossible in the end, you’d regretfully leave. Their death would haunt you for the rest of your life. These are your “close friends.”

* You’d try. You would. But if about five minutes goes by and no luck, you’d give up and flee. Their death would make you feel a little guilty. These are your “friends.”

* You’d think about saving them. But in the end you’d decide it’s too dangerous and flee. You’d feel bad at first about their death but you’d get over it. These are your “acquaintances.”

* You’d walk away with your hands in your pockets and pretend you saw nothing. You wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt about their death. These are the “antagonists” of your life.

* You’d actively push this person under a burning beam of flames if you knew you could get away with it. Their death makes you happy. You will dance on their grave, figuratively or not. These are your “enemies.”

[pot-o-stu]

Stoner Humor pt. 2

[pot-o-stu]

Stoner Humor pt. 1

Just had a revelation, the circumstances of which are, are ummmm completely unrelated to my story hahaha I’m a good girl and I don’t do bad things anywayyyy here’s my revelation:

Drunk people make THE WORST partners in crime for high people in public. Because the drunk person will be like

“heY Do YoU WanNa SEe mE dO a FliP oFf ThE FroZen fOoD SEcTioN?”

and the high person would be like “i would literally never personally do anything that stupid in my life but you know it’d actually be fucking hilarious to see ok yeah do it you fucking pussy”

and the drunk person would be like

“hold my beer”

and the stoner just wanders into the frozen food section with the alcoholic and the stoner gets out a lawn chair and helps himself to a frozen pizza as the drunk person proceeds to fall on their fucking face trying to climb the rice display to make it up to the top of freezer

...ok i may be a lil high

[pot-o-stu]

I can't draw but I felt this had to be done. IB: http://thefunnyplanet.com/pic/Kyle-Said-The-F-Word-In-The-Class-Today-11513/tag/Epic

[pot-o-stu]

I have this on my phone and I'm so glad I'm not the only one who loves Styx

I was listening to “Fooling yourself” by Styx, and I thought it fit them well

Credit for the AU goes to my baby.. ( sorry I can’t stop drawing them)

[pot-o-stu]

This needs to be more popular.

[ As a thank you for 200 Followers, Dorian wanted to record something for you all! I won’t spoil anything, but I will warn that it is NSFW.

All voice work for this was done by dorianthezebra

And thank you guys again!! =D

(and we apologize… What have we done?)

[pot-o-stu]

Why shame your children for being gay? It's so stupid. As if they can actually change that about themselves. They were born that way and can't help it. You might as well be shaming them for being white.

[pot-o-stu]

WIP. Also going to start saving up for scleras. $230+? Worth.

[pot-o-stu]

((Someone dared me to reenact "Clint Eastwood" on Vine while I was in Noodle cosplay... so I summed up the entire music video in about six seconds.))