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emberprince · 5 years ago

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Answer ALL of those in the ask meme you reblogged (or just cocoa if you're a coward)

oh you have no idea how badly I wanted to do this already I was just waiting for the opportunity... and you have given it to me you FOOL! now I have a reason to continue procrastinating on my homework

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

‣ I had just joined my first ‘good’ RP guild on World of Warcraft. She was sitting in the same building as me when my character was interviewed. I thought she was very cool but also very intimidating... I wanted to be friends with her but I was also an IDIOT and very new to roleplay so I kind of hope she remembers little of that time... We sort of fell out of contact for like 5 years but I followed her deviantart account and always added her art to my favorites because it was very CUTE and GOOD... anyway by sheer coincidence we ended up in a guild together again after many years and got to know each other more and now I think I would die if my best friend was anyone else

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?

‣ man, high school doesnt matter. literally nothing matters as much as you think it does. it’s OKAY. stop caring what people think of you because it’s only going to give you depression and no one likes that. it’s okay. trust me. just chill. skip school once in a while

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

‣ I’ve always wanted to learn sign language... I’ve also wanted to learn like, blacksmithing or woodworking but I’ve never had the opportunity or tools to do so :(

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?

‣ normally I would list one of my OCs but that’s cheating. I’d have to say Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter, she seems the most like me. I’d LIKE to identify as a cool protagonist but I don’t have the protagonist personality

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

‣ cloaks and cool leather jackets and long flowing coats that make me look cool as FUCK. also dresses with pockets PLEASE I just want a semi-casual dress with functioning POCKETS PLEASE also I would love to have some nice boots and leggings that are a little thicker and don’t show as much as the flimsy ones. Coats/leggings/boots are just nice. I like shirts that are flowy and breathable, kind of like tunics

cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?

‣ onions, mustard, peppers, broccoli, guacamole. basically no one ever cooked them for me when I was a kid then I grew up and realized that cooked vegetables are delicious as FUCK

amber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have.

‣ I’m really tired of seeing all the anti-cop posts. My dad is a wildlife law enforcement officer and one of the best people I know, and this whole new view on police has made his job a lot more dangerous. I understand that some cops are horrible people but the majority of them are really kind and unique individuals once you get to know them. Most of them dedicated their entire career to helping others, even if it means getting into dangerous situations. you can unfollow me for this if you want

fog - how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?

‣ I wouldn’t die instantly because I’d immediately run into the wilderness and hide instead of raiding stores where the outbreak is literally happening, but I’m not great at living off the land so I’d probably eat something poisonous and die of a disease or starvation a couple weeks later. If I somehow found a good food source or had something to hunt with I’d be alright.

jack-o-lantern - if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?

‣ jameela jamil...

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

‣ no

orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn.

‣ I’d like to pass all my classes and maybe get A’s and B’s... I’d also like to just be happy for a little while. Maybe get the hell out of my dorm but I don’t think that’s likely to happen. Most other years I’d say ‘fall in love’ but I really just am not ready for that right now. OH wait I’d like to receive 1 million dollars please

crow - which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for?

‣ CHEMISTRY. holy shit

bonfire - describe your dream house.

‣ a few minutes outside a town with everything I need like a grocery store, hospital, etc. A BIG spacious house in the middle of the woods near a waterfall with a rustic cabin design. Pine forest, one big window in the living room so I can look out at the mountains and watch it snow in the winter. Lots of comfortable furniture, a sectional couch, a big kitchen so I can do a lot of cooking and a big bedroom with a king sized bed. A jacuzzi. One room is like a giant playroom for Zuko with lots of perches and toys and ropes so he can just have the time of his life. My large bedroom also has a nice window with a view of the mountains and a windowseat in front of it. The living room has an electric fireplace. I have a couple guest rooms so I can host people and the basement has a bar where we can have little get-togethers.

cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?

‣ idk I kind of like the present. we have all these nice things we don’t normally have. I’d say like 10-20 years into the future maybe but I have no idea what the world is going to be like then sooo... maybe not. I wouldn’t want to live without the internet and running water and all the comforts I have now, though

cobweb - (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school?

‣ I... miss parts of it. I miss the drama club in the high school I went to before I transferred. I had a lot of great memories there and sometimes I wish I could go back. And I miss the friends I made there that I don’t really talk to anymore. I don’t miss ANYTHING about the school I actually graduated from, that place was hellllllllllllll

cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on?

‣ I think... hair? Usually when I get compliments it’s just general about my appearance but I think I’ve heard hair mentioned before

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

‣ I haven’t really had street encounters since I don’t talk to anyone when I’m walking, but I have a few wild stories from when I worked at mcdonalds. One person came through the drive thru with 2 monkeys that tried to climb into the restaurant. Another person raved to me about how Google was taking over the world (they were right). Another person pulled up and I was about to hand them their food and the conversation went like this:

him: [grinning at me] you see the person in the line behind me?

me: yeah haha why? [hands him his food]

him: she looks like madam mim from the sword in the stone [laughs and drives away]

there are truly some cryptids out there.

quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)?

‣ I like iced tea in the summer and hot tea in the winter. With coffee, I prefer frappes in the summer and in the winter I drink a lot of mochas or regular coffee with just. so much creamer

pumpkin - do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?

‣ I think humans are inherently good, or at least neutral. We’re very social animals and for society to survive we have to be kind to one another so that we stick around, I think. Bad behavior seems to be learned.

moonlit - are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly?

‣ I am... neutral. I used to be VERY messy but now I’m mostly clean. My own area can get a little disorganized but I never encroach on anyone else’s space.

flannel - have you ever gone on a bad date?

‣ One. I met up with this guy and he talked about himself the entire time. Other dates have been pretty neutral, I wouldn’t say I’ve had many ‘good’ dates either.

cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?

‣ I used to want really long red anime hair, and I still kind of want that. I haven’t dyed my hair in a while because I want to see what my natural color looks like before I dye it again. Lately I’ve considered cutting it to shoulder-length but I think I probably won’t. I like red hair (dark red, not the natural red) but I’ve always REALLY wanted to try silver hair. If I couldn’t do silver, I’d do rose gold. For those colors I have to get it professionally dyed though, and I’m really cheap... so if I can’t walmart dye it, it’s gonna be a while until I get what I want.

ghost - is there someone that you miss having in your life?

‣ I guess my cat and bird are still in my life, but I can’t have them in my dorm, and that sucks. I miss a few of my old friends, but not that much because I have better friends now. It’s really weird not having my grandpa around anymore. He wasn’t a great person but I’ve never gone to a family gathering without him. I think that’s going to be weird to get used to. I wish I had a supportive significant other that I just click with but usually my luck is awful with relationships so I’m not going to try anything like that for a while.

#answered #wow oversharing time #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK #adven-t

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internethorrorfan · 6 years ago

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Commentarypasta: A Meet I'll Never Forget (originally posted on Deviantart in 2017)

The creepypasta fandom is known being particularly cringeworthy. From all the terrible OCs out there to the lame music videos to the frankly pathetic film attempts to, of course, the fanfiction. So boils and ghouls, allow me to introduce you to something I like to call: Commentarypasta! In Commentarypasta I'll take a look at some of the worst stories the CP fandom has to offer in order to find one that's even remotely entertaining while I give my commentary on the . Most of them will come from Wattpad but this particular tale came to us from some site called Creepypasta.xyz. I've never heard of it either. Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story... A Meet I'll Never Forget by Meganthekillerforever. CHAPTER 1: I was sitting in my room reading Creepypastas online. I'm sorry, who are you? Could we get some establishing please? I love all of the Creepypasta stories, including Jeff, Slendy, Slenderman doesn't have an official creepypasta since he wasn't created for creepypasta. Ticci Toby, and more. I was always bad at acting good. Spoilers: This fact is never mentioned again and has no relevance to anything at all. I hated my neighbors Why? For what reason? Who the hell are your neighbors and why should we care? We don't even know our protagonist's name and your telling us about her neighbors? and hoped Smile Dog would finish them off. You've never read Smile Dog have you? I was always sending a picture of him to them at night, but to my disappointment they called my parents the very next day. My parents didn’t care though, thank goodness for that, and my older brother just ignored me like most brothers do to their younger sisters. They didn’t care what I did. My father was a writer and my mom was an artist. My brother was already making plans to go to college. I'm sure all these things will be entirely relevant pieces of information that will pay off later in the story. One night I decided to go out into the woods to see if I could find Slenderman.( I know…childish right?) Well that was me always trying to prove that they were real. Now, time and time again I tried to see if Ben It's BEN. was real, but when I played Majora’s Mask nothing ever happened to me. That's because he only haunted (past tense) Jadusable's specific copy of Majora's Mask that he got from the Old Man. Jadusable put files from the cartridge into his computer allowing BEN to escape into it, and later Jadusable uploaded footage from the game onto Youtube which allowed BEN to escape into the internet. You must not have paid very close attention to these stories if you're getting all these things wrong. So, I figured that all the Creepypasta stories were fake. I still like to find out for myself though. As I went out the door, You were going out the door? Thanks for establishing that. Can we have some details to anything please? I called to my parents and told them I would be gone for a while. I heard my dad typing away on his typewriter and my mom getting extra paint from the storage closet. “Okay. Be back before breakfast.” “Okay Mom.” I rolled my eyes. We're a paragraph into this thing and I already want our main character to die. This doesn't bode well.

Since my mom is an artist, she always has some extra paint lying around. I grabbed some glow in the dark paint before I left and went outside. I gathered some rocks from the garden and a flashlight from the shed. I felt like someone was watching me, Thanks I thought we could use some more clichés. so I shone the flashlight in the darkest parts of the shed just to be sure. I grabbed the glow in the dark paint and started painting the rocks with it. When I was sure they were dry I gathered them in a bag and set off for the woods. Oh that's the pay off to her mom being an artist! So our still nameless protagonist could paint rocks with glow in the dark paint and light her lay through the woods. Or, you know, she could have only used the flashlight. As I made my way into the woods, I started setting down glow in the dark rocks. You've got a flashlight, you don't need the rocks. I continued to explore until I found a large flat rock that I made into a resting place. I was getting tired. "I'm so exhausted from all the nothing I've been doing!" “I guess there’s no harm in resting for a few minutes.” Just go home. As I started to doze off, a rustling noise woke me up. I darted straight up and looked at my watch. “Oh no! I was planning on being home an hour ago! I lost track of time!” Which is why you should have just gone home instead of randomly taking a nap on a rock. The rustling continued as I started back on the path of rocks. I started to grow fearful as the rustling noise got louder and closer. I always keep a pocket knife with me at all times. Why? I pulled it out and turned around ready to confront whoever it was, but when I turned around I found none other than Slenderman himself. As I stared, I found that there was someone behind him, no two people. A man in a white hoodie and a man in a black hoodie wearing a blue mask. So Slenderman gets no description but Jeff and Eyeless Jack do? Consistency: it's not a polite suggestion. I had come face to face with Slendy, Quit calling him Slendy. Jeff, and Eyeless Jack! I was so shocked that I was at a loss for words. That's it? She doesn't shiver, shake, try to run away, use the knife to defend herself or anything? She's just at a loss for words? Being at a loss for words is the reaction you get after reading fics like this, not after coming across several supposedly fictional monsters/killers. Finally after a while, Jeff spoke. “As you probably already know my name is Jeff, Jeff the Killer.” What person talks this way? "Oh hi my name is Martin, Martin the janitor. How are you?". I nodded, still not being able to say anything. “This here’s Slenderman and that’s Eyeless Jack.” I finally work up the nerve to speak. “W-what brings y-you to me?” That's your first response? Not asking "how are you real?" or better yet, running away in terror? This time Eyeless Jack speaks. “Well, we’ve been watching you for a while now.” Because....? “Why me?” Good question. “Slendy here thinks you’d make a good proxy. What has this girl possibly done to make Slenderman think she'd be a good proxy? Did she win him over with her amazing one of a kind ability to read horror stories on the internet? Me on the other hand thinks you look kinda weak. Jeff’s thinking the same thing.” “W-why would you want me? I’ve never killed anyone.” Every person that thinks creepypasta is just about killing people needs to be lobotomized. "Jeff spoke up. “Well, I guess that’s going to change tonight.” Jeff smiled wider than usual. As I just stood there dumbfounded Jeff started to lead me in a direction I knew well, back to my house. “You’re seriously not going to make me kill my family are you!?” No one's said anything remotely like that yet so unless nameless girl here can predict the future there's no way she could have known that they'll say that. Jeff started laughing. “You’ve read all of our stories haven’t you? How can creepypasta be a thing in this universe if all the popular creepypasta characters are real? They can't be fake and real at the same time. Well, in most of them our parents are either killed by us or something else. Spoilers: Jeff is the only character featured in this story that killed his parents. In order for you to become one of us, Creepypastas are stories not beings. Plus why do they want nameless protagonist to join them anyway? you have to get them outta the way.” Spoilers: Sally's in this story and Bloody Painter is mentioned. Both those characters have living parents. Is the author seriously under the impression that every creepypasta ever has dead parents in them? “And if I refuse?” “Well, now that you’ve seen us we’re probably going to kill you if you refuse.” Probably? “I-I’ll do it. WHAT?!? Are you kidding me? It takes that little to convince her to murder her family? Them saying they'd probably kill her instead? You wouldn't just straight up kill your parents with no second thoughts because someone said they'd kill you if you didn't. What about my brother?” “We kill him too of course! No witnesses.” He's not a witness if he doesn't see anything. I dread every step on the way back to my house. I enter the house silently, as to not alert them. I make my way into the kitchen and grab a steak knife. They're not around to see you do this. You could just warn them all and get the hell outta there. What happened to that knife you already had? My parents are usually in the study room working. I crept into the study hiding the knife behind my back. “Hey sweetie, back already?” "Hey sweetie, what is that knife shaped object you holding behind your back? You better not be trying to murder us again young lady!" I continued stepping closer gripping the knife hard behind my back. “Yep, I’m back.” Finally, when I was close enough to them I lunged at them with the knife and stabbed repeatedly. Because she'd definitely be able to do that with no effort at all. They twitched for a moment, but then they were still. I was wide eyed and gasping for breath when I finished. I heard clapping behind me. Jeff was standing there. “Very well done. Slendy didn’t even have to get into your mind like he did Toby.” “That…actually felt good. Yeah, let's do what the creepypasta fandom does best: glorify the murder of innocent people! What, you're not going to tell us about the "rush" you get from killing or how fun and exciting it is? What about my brother?” “I took care of him. I haven’t killed in a whole day and I was itching to kill someone.” I just watched my parent’s lifeless bodies for a while before Slenderman came to get me. This character has shown no previous signs of sociopathic personality disorder, psychopathy, psychosis, or any other mental disorder that might possibly make her Ok with killing people. She shouldn't be so nonchalant about everything. Since he didn’t have a face he didn’t talk much. I don't even need to point out why this line is moronic do I? Slenderman beckoned for me to follow. I followed him outside where Jeff and Eyeless Jack were waiting. “Well kid, welcome to the family.” CHAPTER 2: After I killed my family, After that minor insignificant easily forgotten event of stabbing my parents to death with a steak knife. Slendy teleported us to what looked like an old, run down mansion. I stared in disbelief at the beautiful mansion. The last sentence said it was old and run down. Now it's beautiful? OK then. “I thought the mansion was just a legend!” Jeff started speaking. “Nope, it’s real kid.” They led me into the mansion where the other pastas were waiting. What other pastas? You gonna tell us who they are? They all looked at me and stared. I started to get nervous with all the attention on me. A boy I knew to be Ben BEN's a statue in a video game, not a "boy". started asking questions. “Who’s that? Why have you brought a human here? Jeff is human. So are Bloody Painter, Hoodie and Masky, all of whom are mentioned later in the story (spoilers like you care at all). Does she like games?” Will this fandom ever realize Pasta Monsters is not an accurate representation of who BEN is? Seriously. Eyeless Jack interrupted his questions. “This is a new edition to the family. If you have any questions about her, ask her yourself.” They started crowding around me with questions. Because you're just so likable and interesting that of course these people would bombard you with questions the first second they lay eyes upon you. Thanks a lot EJ. I’m not the type of person who loves crowds. Your whole family was just murdered, two of them by your own hand, and a minute later you're in a mansion in the woods with a bunch of monsters, serial killers, supernatural beings and other horror characters you previously thought to be fictional. Stop acting like this is completely normal. “SIT DOWN AND RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU HAVE A QUESTION!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs. They all sat back down and raised their hands hesitantly. Because again, you're just so likable and interesting that they have no choice but to listen to someone they've never met before. “Ben.” “Do you like games?” “I love games Ben.” “How do you know my name?” I had forgotten to tell them that I’ve read all of their stories and seen pictures of them online. “Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that I’ve read all of your stories.” Ha ha no you haven't. They were very surprised. To learn that people have written stories about them. I'd be surprised. Sally spoke up. “All of them?” I thought she was cute. It was hard to imagine an 8 year old girl as a killer. That's because she's not a killer. Good God people it takes five minutes to search up her old ref sheet with all her info on it. But to save anyone the trouble here it is: Sally - Official Profile. “Yes Sally, even yours.” I smiled at her. She smiled back at me. Because of course Sally and our protagonist instantly get attached to one another and become inseperable best friends/family figures to each other. How else are we going to lazily boost our protagonist's��ego and get the reader to like her? “Yes, Offenderman.” Offenderman didn't say anything. Also why is a rapist part of the quote unquote "family"? Especially with Sally around. Offenderman smirked and pulled out a rose. “Would you like a rose?” He extended it out to me. “Nope.” “But, why!?” “Because like I just said, I’ve read all of your stories. I know what happens when you give a rose to someone.” Offenderman frowned and mumbled under his breath. The others laughed. “ The sex offender doesn't get to rape anyone today! So funny! Betcha Sally really got a kick outta that one! Okay who’s next?” “Ooh me! Me!” Jeff practically yelled. How does one "practically" yell something? I laughed at his persistence. “Yes, Jeff.” “Do you like knives? And what is your opinion on killing?” Not every creepypasta OC is a killer or needs to kill. Nobody died in Ben Drowned and there was never any danger of anyone dying. At least not from BEN physically killing them. “If I had to choose a weapon, I would definitely choose a knife. My second choice would be a pistol. As for killing, I don’t really mind it, especially when they deserve it.” Oh piss off. The only people you've killed are your parents who you only killed because this story is lazy and stupid. You are in absolutely no position whatsoever to be giving an opinon on murder or what your preferred weapons are. Hoodie seemed to be satisfied that my second option would be a pistol. You're dead Brian. “LJ.” LJ laughed and stood up. “Do you like candy?” I should have known that was coming. No you shouldn't have because Laughing Jack is capable of thinking about things that aren't candy. “Yes LJ, I love candy.” “Would you like some candy?” “No thank you. Polite pass.” LJ looked kind of hurt when I declined, but he tried to hide it with a smile. I felt bad for declining it, but I still didn’t fully trust them yet. I wanted to get to know them first before I accepted anything from them. You murdered your own parents in cold blood to join them. You don't get to be weary around them. I must have zoned out, Thinking about what? How uneventful everything is? because Jeff was waving his hand in front of my face trying to get my attention. “Hello? Anyone in there?” Oh! I’m sorry. I guess I just spaced out.” EJ decided that was enough questions. “Alright, I think that’s enough questions for today.” I was getting very tired. I yawned loudly and rubbed my eyes. Everyone turned to look at me. Everyone was wondering where I would sleep. Why does anyone care? Sally spoke up with excitement in her voice. Much like us, Sally knows absolutely nothing at all about our main character so she has no reason to give a damn about her at all. Sally's an attention seeking prankster who gets jealous easily and cries and throws tantrums every time she doesn't get her way. She'd be one of the people most against a new person, not most for. “She can sleep in my room! I have an extra bed in there.” Because as we all know, ghosts need to sleep. All the others agreed. Masky Hey Tim how's it goin'? Still not a creepypasta character? Sounds great. spoke up this time. “Yeah, just until we get a room fixed up for her.” Because Mary Sue sure does deserve a room all to herself. Why doesn't she share a room with Sally permanently? “Thank you Sally. I’m very grateful.” I was relieved somewhat, because I didn’t want to be rude. I still didn’t trust them yet. You already said that. I followed Sally to her room. Her door was decorated with bloody pink flowers. When we got inside the room, I saw that her walls were a pale pink with blood splatters. Because an 8 year old girl who likes stuffed animals, tea parties, cute things and stereotypical "girly" stuff would obviously decorate their room with blood splatters. You still sure you've read all their stories, miss Thekillerforever? Plus blood smells. Hanging on her walls were many drawn pictures of the Creepypasta family. WHAT CREEPYPASTA FAMILY?!? You've told us nothing about this supposed "family" or what characters are a part of it! We know Masky, Hoodie, Slenderman, Jeff, EJ, LJ, Sally, BEN, and Offenderman but that's because you just plopped them into this story with no set up at all! We don't know who's part of the family! Quit acting like we do! And where is Toby? This story's referenced him twice now and he hasn't shown up! She was a very good artist for an 8 year old. “You’re a very good artist. Those pictures are amazing!” I don't think many 8 year olds are"very good" artists. But this is a crepypasta fanfiction so Sally has to be portrayed as an absolutely perfect flawless shining paragon of humanity that always gets what she wants and is instantly loved by every life form on Earth because she's just so "cute". Our main character's already a Sue, we don't need you to change other people's characters into Sues too. Sally smiled at my words. “Thank you. I’m not as good as Bloody Painter Because she would obviously refer to Helen by his serial killer alias instead of his actual real name. though. He’s the best artist here. Here’s the bed you will be sleeping on. Why does Sally even have one bed, let alone two? I’m so happy to have someone sleeping in my room with me! The only one who comes over sometimes is Lazari.” Who I'm sure this author know nothing about. Given the track record so far I wouldn't be surprised if the author thought 8 year old Lazari murdered innocent people with knives for the lolz. I feel bad for Sally. It must get so lonely in here by herself. Out of these retarded Slender Mansion stories, THIS is the one that figures out a little kid living in a gigantic mansion with almost exclusively grown men would get lonely? “After my room is finished I could sleep over sometimes.” You're sleeping in her room now. What are you talking about? Sally smiled and looked at me with hope in her eyes. “Really?” YOU JUST MET THIS PERSON, YOU SHOULD NOT BE THIS ATTACHED! “Really.” “And will you play with me?” I smiled warmly at her. “Absolutely.” YOU JUST MET THIS PERSON SO YOU SHOULDN'T BE THIS ATTACHED EITHER! And if you two are this attached already, why not just share the room permanently? She jumped up and down with excitement. Can ghosts jump? “Yay! I can’t wait!” “Would you like me to tuck you in and read you a story Sally?” No she wouldn't like you to tuck her in because she's a ghost and ghosts can't sleep. Who said she wanted to go to bed anyway? “Yes please! I would like to listen to a story about your family if you don’t mind.” "You know, that family you murdered an hour ago with no remorse or guilt whatsoever?" “It’s fine. "I've already completely forgotten about stabbing them to death, almost like it was pointless or something!" I’ll tell you about the time we got a puppy.” Sally eagerly got into her bed. Which she probably doesn't need since she has no physical body. “I love puppies! They’re so cute.” This chapter started off with the line "after I killed my family". “One day I was sitting in my room playing with my dolls How old were you when this happened? Scratch that, how old are you now? and my parents were excited about something. I walked out of my room to my parents’ room You could have just said "I walked to my parent's room." because you already said you were in your room, we can tell that you walked out through context clues. to see what they were talking about. When I asked them, they both shouted that we were getting a puppy. I was so happy I ran around the house squealing with excitement. My parents would have straight up told me I wasn't getting anything if I kept running around the house squealing. My parents decided to let me pick the dog. I ran into the pet store checking out all of the dogs. I set my sights on the cutest chocolate brown puppy with short floppy ears. He had the most beautiful brown eyes. And he was just as sweet as can be. This is a fanfiction based off creepypasta, a genre of internet horror stories frequently about madness, tradgedy and the terrors of the unknown, and the second chapter is concluding...with our main character telling bedtime stories about cute puppies to a little girl. Wow. We decided from that day, to call him Brownie.” Where's Brownie now? Given the level of intelligence you've displayed in this I wouldn't be surprised if you ate him thinking he was an actual brownie. When I finished my story, That wasn't about your family at all. I looked over to find Sally fast asleep. I ask this question a lot regarding fanfictions with Sally in them but does this author even know Sally is a ghost? Or does she somehow think ghosts can sleep? If these stories ever offered an explanation as to how Sally can do these things that'd be fine. But they never do so it doesn't make any sense. I chuckled and got into my own bed. I had one last thought as I fell asleep, ‘I wonder what tomorrow will bring.’ Nothing because this story was deleted by the author. Thank God. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well that was dull and uneventful. This story's only two chapters long but those two chapters are some of the most boring things I've ever read in my life. Pretty much nothing at all happened in them other than our bland unnamed protagonist murdering her family for pretty much no reason, but that's almost immediately glossed over and swept under the rug to get to more pressing matters like telling bedtime stories about cute puppies. Our main character is such an obvious self insert Mary Sue and she doesn't even get the luxury of a name let alone a personality. The closest thing I got out of her character was stupidity but that's only because the writing was so botched it made her look like an airhead who was completely unaffected by everything around her. "A Meet I'll Never Forget" feels like it was written by a 10 year old due to the almost complete lack of detail to anything. As of this writing the story's been deleted so this is the only place to find it. So with this story out of the way join me next time for...something less boring and forgettable.

#old stuff from my deviantart

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im-coming-to-you-live · 8 years ago

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SpongeBob- Greying Gracefully

Yeah I keep forgetting I have a tumblr. Hey, this exists.

Greying Gracefully Summary: SpongeBob finds a grey hair and begins to worry about his premature aging. Rated: T for Teen; 13+ Characters: Squidward, SpongeBob, Sandy, Patrick, Mr. Krabs, Pearl, Gary Pairing(s): None Genre: Coming of age/ Friendship Word Count: 6, 058 Fic belongs to me.

SpongeBob Musical belongs to Kyle Jarrow (who wrote the book).

SpongeBob © Nickelodeon.

[X-posted from deviantART]

It was supposed to be the quintessential ‘’best day ever’’, like it was every morning. The sun was shining, and the hills were alive with the sound of music. Nothing could possibly ruin this most perfect of perfect days, that is, until SpongeBob spotted a lone grey hair, interloping among his platinum-colored tresses. His first instinct was not to panic. ‘Okay,’ he told himself, ‘No biggie. It’s only one. And hey, silver’s a pretty color, maybe no one will notice since my hair’s so light anyway,’ but when he went to go pluck it, he found another, and yet another, silver wisps upon silver wisps. He felt the color drain from his face, just as the color had from his hair. He tried to remain optimistic, but wasn’t he a little too young to be going grey? Now, at the age of 25, a few grey strands multiplied to what seemed like nearly a hundred, silently taunting him when he looked in the mirror as if to say, “You’re getting old. You’re getting old. You’re getting old.” He had never been one to fear the future. Rather, he looked forward to it. He looked forward to the day he would turn Squidward’s age and look wise and distinguished with all those lines chiseled into his face like the rocky mountains Sandy often spoke of after her trip to New Mexico last summer. Plus, Squidward’s grey scalp looked becoming to his natural sea-green locks. It reminded SpongeBob of fluffy clouds floating over the ocean surface. He looked forward to the day he would turn Mr. Krabs’s age and still look physically fit, with hardly a wrinkle albeit attractive smile lines, and a load full of pepper and salt chest hair. Yes, the older men in his life made him feel excited to grow old. ‘’To grow old,’’ he once remarked to their wrinkled noses, ‘’Would be an awfully big adventure.’’

‘’You have no idea, kid,’’ they both told him, but SpongeBob had to laugh. To his eyes, they both aged gracefully. But then again, he had never known them to be young. He remembered sauntering into Mr. Krabs’s office one day, only to find it empty. Instead, he found an old-fashioned picture frame stuffed into one of the desk drawers, face down. SpongeBob didn’t mean to pry but curiosity got the best of him, and so he lifted the picture frame from its hiding place and wiped away the dust which coated the glass with his sweater. He didn’t immediately recognize the young man in the black and white photo—handsome, with a strong resemblance to Mr. Krabs. It couldn’t have been, could it? SpongeBob remembered removing the photo from its frame and flipping it to the backside, but there was no date. It must have been taken around 1960-something. 1964 or '65 was his wild guess. Mr. Krabs was pictured in a Navy uniform, with inky black hair and a darker complexion than he sported now. He looked almost exotic, like Egyptian. For some reason, it was eerie and haunting. The man who went off to war would never return the same man he left. Mr. Krabs never talked about it, but SpongeBob heard stories about what kind of man he was when he came home... Pearl’s grandmother had said she didn’t even recognize her own son. But Mr. Krabs seemed happy here, and so unaware of what was to come. The soldier smiled back at him as if he knew of his innocence. He seemed both eager for its loss and nostalgic for those few years of naiveté behind him. Deeper in the drawer, SpongeBob uncovered yet another photograph, this time of Mr. Krabs in full service dress, with his name tag centered on the right breast pocket. He wasn’t smiling in this one. Most soldiers wanted to escape the draft, probably the reason for him not following the rules (his cap was off, and his left hand was in his pocket, a rakish disregard for the regulation that a soldier in war could never, ever stick a hand in his pocket ). The hand in the pocket was almost a silent rebellion. The pockets that were empty in the photograph would soon bulge with hand grenades, extra ammunition, food, and many of the gross of condoms they were issued before a combat jump. SpongeBob held these photos side-by-side to compare them. One soldier was happy. The other was not. They almost looked like two different people. But they were both Mr. Krabs, taken in a moment of time, months apart. Is this why he had locked them away? Could he not come to terms with his own aging that began in his mere twenties? And then there was Squidward. SpongeBob had visited his neighbor’s Eastern Island home one day only to find him hiding secrets, too. He had a library under the stairs—not nearly as impressive as SpongeBob’s but the porifera couldn’t resist—and when SpongeBob intruded when Squidward wasn’t looking, he found what appeared to be a high school year book on one of the shelves. ‘’Farlingaye High’’ it said on the cover. Inside, he found quite a few surprises. One Polaroid depicted Squidward entering his amateur piece into the school art show—he proudly held it up: a little painting of Neptune-knows-what. His mum stood beside him, beaming at her little artist son. Between her hands, she held his cheap plastic briefcase that carried all his books. It wasn’t a proper grown-up briefcase that a few of the brain-box nerds had inherited from their dads. Squidward had ‘’graffitied’’ his up a bit—but come to think of it, it was still pretty geeky. Squidward looked no different than he did now, except of course he didn’t have crow’s feet, and so SpongeBob couldn’t possibly mistake the identity. He was still tall and lanky, only this time with prominent buckteeth, bespectacled, spotty, and wore braces. He was nerdy but still charming. Actually, he kind of looked like SpongeBob. But something else was different about him. He looked genuinely happy, with the excited look of a child at Christmas in his eyes, an expression of innocent glee that SpongeBob had never seen in the older Squidward. The next Polaroid, with a stain in the right corner, depicted Squidward in a class photo, wearing a blue cardigan that his mother had probably knitted for him, and a shaggy Brady Bunch haircut that was popular at the time. Again, he looked happy. But then in his graduation photo, wearing his honorary cap and gown, his diploma in his hands, he had the all-too familiar stern look he had now. And he was only 18. What happened? ‘’ I hated German,’’ he remembered Squidward saying as he came into the library to find SpongeBob crouched over his yearbook. SpongeBob hurriedly tried to close the book and return it to its proper place, but Squidward didn’t seem to mind so much. He came up beside him and pointed at his young self and said, ‘’It was’t the subject, it was the incredibly dull, dull, dull teacher. I was always getting shouted at and sent out of the class for messing around. I was always mortified having to take that walk of shame to the door. I was such a loser. Y’know, I got picked on all the time.’’ ‘’Is that why you look so unhappy here?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’Yes,’’ Squidward admitted sadly, before realizing his error, and snapped, ‘’I mean no! I was itching to be done with school because, by about 13, I knew I wanted to go off to performing arts college, but I could barely afford it. Looking back, high school only lasted a few years! I should have relaxed and tried to enjoy and get more out of it.’’ And with that, he closed the book and shooed SpongeBob out of the library. He was never allowed to bring up Squidward’s high school days ever again. As SpongeBob studied his grey hairs in the bathroom mirror, he wondered what he would look like in twenty years, fifty. Seeing how rapidly Squidward and Mr. Krabs aged in their youth, when they were supposed to be in the prime of their life, he wondered what he would look like in only a few months from now. Would he forget how to smile? Would he be frowning on his 26th birthday? Was it possible to grow old before he reached 30? He didn’t mind getting old, it was inevitable, but he didn’t want to get old now. He sighed, and walking out of the bathroom, he found Gary sprawled out on his side on the bed, completely content. ‘’Gary, can I ask you an honest question?’’ The snail rustled, looking annoyed that he had been disturbed from his nap. When he finally focused his eyes on SpongeBob, he said, ‘’Do you think I look…old?’’ Gary took one look at him and replied with a sarcastic, ‘’Meow.’’ SpongeBob frowned. ‘’Gee, thanks. You’re a real pal.’’ * * * * * * * * * * ‘’ I’m only 25! I found my first grey hair and I might be going bald.’’ SpongeBob complained as Squidward sat him down in a chair. ‘’Congratulations, you’re turning into me,’’ Squidward grumbled. ‘’You lost your hair at my age?’’ SpongeBob gasped. Squidward continued to stare at SpongeBob, not amused, then pointed to his hair, which, despite a receding hairline, he mostly still had. ‘’Gracious me, now where did all my hair go?’’ ‘’Did you check between your legs? That’s where most of my hair is.’’ Squidward slapped his forehead at such disbelief. ‘’You’re such a twit.’’ The boy shrugged. ‘’I dunno. I thought maybe it was a toupee.’’ ‘’Then yank on it.’’ SpongeBob did, reaching out to grab fist fulls of Squidward’s hair to see if it was really attached to his scalp, and it must have been, because he yelped, ‘’Ouch, not so hard, you prat!’’ and he shoved SpongeBob away. Yup, it was definitely real. And soft. Synthetic hair wouldn’t be that soft. ‘’This is awful!’’ SpongeBob began to cry into his hands. ‘’Am I gonna be all white before thirty, Squidward?’’ ‘’Mellow fucking out, SpongeBob,’’ Squidward snapped. ‘’You’re still young. You have your whole life before you.’’ ‘’Before me?’’ he wailed. ‘’No, all is over for me! I’m dying!’’ Squidward rolled his eyes. ‘’I didn’t think you were so vain. Hey, is this the same guy who said growing old would be fun?’’ ‘’Yeah, but…I’m not old. I mean, I didn’t expect to be turning grey until twenty years from now,’’ SpongeBob said, wiping his eyes on his shirt. ‘’Exactly. You’re not old. Look, sometimes you get a few grey hairs here and there, doesn’t mean you’re aging.’’ ‘’Then what’s happening to me?’’ ‘’There’s nothing wrong with you…Well, alright, there’s a million things wrong with you but a grey hair or two is the least of your problems. You’re freaking out over nothing.’’ Squidward approached him, and then with a comb in tow, he parted SpongeBob’s blonde tresses to inspect the so-called ‘’damage’’. After a few moments of brushing through SpongeBob’s hair, he shook his head and said, ‘’Oh yes, this looks very bad.’’ SpongeBob felt his heart sink. ‘’How bad?’’ ‘’Very very. More serious than I thought. Tsk tsk. There’s a few more back here you didn’t catch. You poor ol’ chap. I suppose your entire head will be all white before thirty.’’ SpongeBob clutched his chest and moaned in fright at such dreadful news. But then he heard Squidward laughing. ‘’What’s so funny?’’ he demanded through the tears welling in his eyes. ‘’I’m just messing with you!’’ Squidward chuckled. ‘’Aside from a few grey strands, your head looks completely fine. Blonde as ever. And you’re not going bald, you have enough hair to make a wig for a grape!’’ SpongeBob stood from his chair and punched Squidward in the chest. He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, not now in a time like this when he really needed his help. ‘’Oh c’mon, SpongeBob, it was a joke!’’ Squidward tried to reason, but SpongeBob wasn’t having it. ‘’If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find someone who will,’’ SpongeBob proclaimed as he made his way to the door. ‘’Can’t you see I’m ailing? You know what, Squid, you’re so full of—‘’ ‘’Alright!’’ Squidward cut him off. ‘’No need to get nasty. I’ll just cut the greys, and give you some coloring if you want. It’s what I use.’’ This didn’t ease SpongeBob’s worries. ‘’I’m going to have to color my own hair?’’ ‘’Look, it’s not going to turn grey overnight. Those few follicles that lost their pigment won’t affect the surrounding hairs. At most, those are the only grey hairs you’ll have for awhile. As you get older, it’ll get more grey. You’ll most likely still be blonde at thirty. It’s a gradual change, SpongeBob. You get used to it.’’ ‘’Were you greying at my age?’’ Squidward sighed. ‘’Younger than you, actually. In my late teens. You’re lucky. At least you’re almost thirty, in five years. For me, it was over by thirty. It runs in the family. My cousin’s been coloring her hair since she was twenty-two. I used to wonder what propelled my mother to keep her hair dark brown at sixty, when it long ago decided it wanted to be white at twenty-eight. But I’m just as guilty as her now. Truth is, it has very little to do with fear of aging and a lot more to do with an unwillingness to look and, some might say, act my age. I’m one of those people frequently mistaken for someone much younger, and I admit I like it. So sue me.’’ SpongeBob looked at Squidward’s glorious head of hair and couldn’t blame him. Aside from sporting a white skunk stripe down the middle, you couldn’t even tell he had been coloring his hair all these years, nor could you tell he was grey under all that natural looking turquoise. He didn’t even look old, even if he had kept his hair grey. SpongeBob came back to his chair and let Squidward cut out the grey hairs before the older man sent him home with hair dye and pre-shampoo conditioner to keep the coarse, wiry grey hairs moisturized and smooth when they grew back. SpongeBob was grateful to Squidward, but at the same time, he didn’t know if he was ready to start all the daily hair treatments of his 45-year-old neighbor. ‘Well,’ he thought, trying to cheer himself up, ‘I always did think we were something like brothers, but this isn’t quite what I had in mind.’ He began to fear the worst: What if he checked into a retirement home the same day as Squidward, while his younger looking, more vital friends—with their beautiful, un-grey hair—had to pay him burdensome visits? If people remarked that Squidward looked exceptionally young for his age, he wondered if he would begin to look too old for his age. Time for a second opinion. * * * * * * * * * * ‘’Did I ever find a grey hair?’’ Patrick echoed the question as he tread into the kitchen for another grape soda. SpongeBob followed behind him, waiting for an answer. After Patrick opened a soda and handed it to SpongeBob he said, ‘’Nope, can’t say I ever had. But if I ever found a green hair, well, that’s a different story.’’ He opened another soda, took a sip, then continued, ‘’I tried to dye my hair blue once. It turned green for some reason. Or was it lilac? Actually, what is lilac? Is that, like, yellow?’’ ‘’Purple,’’ SpongeBob explained. ‘’Lilac’s purple, Patrick.’’ ‘’Purple Patrick, maybe that was it. Hey, I didn’t know there was a color named after me!’’ In spite of himself, SpongeBob had to laugh. Patrick always found a way to cheer him up. ‘’Yeah, no, about my question…so like, never ever?’’ ‘’What was the question again?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’ ‘’No, you.’’ ‘’Got it.’’ And Patrick took another lengthy chug from his soda, nearly emptying it. SpongeBob waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He seemed to have forgotten what they were even talking about. ‘’Patrick?’’ ‘’Yeah?’’ ‘’Well?’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’Did you?’’ ‘’Did I what?’’ ‘’Find a grey hair?’’ He blinked, registering the question for a moment, then he suddenly seemed to comprehend. ‘’Oh right. No, I don’t think so.’’ ‘’Positive?’’ ‘’Affirmative. I mean, you can look if you want. Don’t think you’ll find anything.’’ With that, he bowed his head as low as possible, but SpongeBob still couldn’t reach so he grabbed a nearby chair and stood on top of it. But Patrick was right. As he sifted through his cotton-candy quiff, he didn’t see one hint of a silver strand. It was all beautifully bubble gum pink. SpongeBob felt a little jealous. Patrick was 28, and he hadn’t a single sign of greying anytime soon. He would probably still have pink hair at Mr. Krabs’s age. He sighed, and hopped off the chair. Patrick noticed his sour mood and asked, ‘’What’s wrong? It’s lice, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Huh? No, your hair looks fine. Great, actually.’’ ‘’Then what is it?’’ He rubbed his arm, and said, ‘’I...found a few grey hairs this morning.’’ ‘’Seriously? But you’re like, a baby!’’ Patrick joked. But SpongeBob wasn’t laughing. ‘’I’m serious.’’ ‘’Don’t worry about it, buddy. Sandy will know what to do,’’ he said, patting SpongeBob on the back. Sandy, of course. Why didn’t he think of it before? With that, he stood on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Patrick’s forehead, but he couldn’t reach, so he kissed him on the cheek instead. ‘’Patrick, you’re a genius!’’ And he rushed to the door, but not fast enough in time, for he could hear Patrick angrily remarking as he left, ‘’What did I say?! Just ‘cause you’re turning old, don’t take it out on me! I was just trying to help! You know what, SpongeBob? Screw you! You’re a genius, and it’s showing too!‘’ * * * * * * * * * * ‘’Stress, genetics, B-12 deficiency…a lot of reasons people turn grey in their twenties,’’ Sandy explained. ‘’ When your body stops producing melanin, a pigment found in the hair follicle, your hair goes grey. Another factor that may contribute to grey hair is the buildup of hydrogen peroxide in the hair. As you grow older, the enzyme catalase that breaks down hydrogen peroxide diminishes. This leaves your hair bleached by hydrogen peroxide. But here’s what not to do: don’t pluck it. You’ll just go bald from all that trauma to your scalp. Use non-ammonia based color. All those chemicals ain’t healthy. Nutritionally focus on protein at breakfast and lunch—available energy to hair tissue is lowest in the morning, did you know that?--, keep hydrated and choose healthy snacks like yogurt, nuts and fruits. You can do all this, SpongeBob, but everyone’s different. You might be going prematurely grey and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is accept yourself and move on.’’ ‘’Squidward said it’s a slow change, is that true?’’ ‘’He’s right, I reckon,’’ she nodded. ‘’Why? Did he share with you a ‘going grey’ story?’’ SpongeBob just chewed his bottom lip, which caused Sandy to burst out in a hearty laugh. ‘’Hah! I knew he colored his hair!’’ ‘’Is that bad?’’ ‘’Nah,’’ she snorted. ‘’Half the population probably does. Y’know, I just thought of something funnier than all that.’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’ Caucasians begin to grey in their mid-30’s, Asians in their late 30’s and African Americans in their 40’s, according to a 2011 research analysis published in The Dermatologist. On average, 50 percent of the population will have 50 percent grey hair by the age of 50. Gender seems to play a role as well: Men start greying closer to 30, while women begin to notice grey hairs around 35. So don’t worry about it. Even if you turn grey sooner than all’s the rest of us, give us five more years, and we’ll be greying together.’’ With that, she slapped her knee. She thought it was a riot, but SpongeBob failed to see the humor in all this. ‘’Patrick’s a little older than me, and he hasn’t found his first silvery strand yet,’’ SpongeBob admitted sadly. ‘’Everybody’s different,’’ she shrugged. ‘’But if you’re worried about your mortality, your hair’s got nothing to do with it. You’ll live long, still. You’re a sponge, for crying out loud.’’ * * * * * * * * * * He hoped Sandy was right, but as he left her Treedome, he wondered if he would ever be able to accept himself someday with a head full of grey or white hair. Would he be like Squidward’s mother, and continue to color his hair well into his sixties? It was a ridiculous thought, having blonde hair at that age. But as he bumped into Mr. Krabs on his way to the Krusty Krab, he realized maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous. Mr. Krabs was about 70, he realized, and he sported bright red hair. But then SpongeBob suddenly recalled the old photograph of Mr. Krabs in his navy uniform, and though the picture wasn’t in color, his hair looked too dark back then to be red, or even a burnt auburn. Did he…? ‘’Boyo, didn’t see ya there!’’ Mr. Krabs bellowed. ‘’Hey, Mr. Krabs,’’ he solemnly smiled. ‘’Say, can I ask you something?’’ Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes into slits and scrutinized SpongeBob like a fly on the wall. ‘’If you’re asking me permission to take out me darlin’, beautiful daughter, a teenager, mind, on a date—‘’ ‘’What? No, Mr. Krabs, I—‘’ But the expression on the retired vet’s face quickly changed into a friendly smile, and he rustled SpongeBob’s hair with his meaty claw to show he meant well. ‘’I’m just joshin’, lad, relax! Should’ve seen the look on yer face! Got ya, didn’t I?’’ and he chuckled his familiar sailor’s laugh. ‘’Yeah. Heh. You got me,’’ SpongeBob tried to laugh along. ‘’Look, Mr. Krabs, I just—‘’ But Mr. Krabs wasn’t listening. He got that look in his eyes that he often did when he thought of a brilliant business venture. SpongeBob knew it all too well, because he titled his head back and rubbed his chin in deep thought. ‘’Come to think of it, that’s not a half bad idea. Could get Pearly outta me hair for a few hours. That is, if ya don’t mind.’’ ‘’Sure, whatever, but—‘’ ‘’She’s been drivin’ me crazy, that kid! Y’know how much the phone bill was this month? Calling and texting! I swear, she’s as bad as her grandmother, she’s got that phone growing right outta her ear! I caught her talkin’ to some friend at two in the mornin’! Two! What’s with kids these days?’’ ‘’It’s a mystery,’’ SpongeBob agreed. ‘’Look, can I ask you—‘’ But Mr. Krabs cut him off again. ‘’She’s eatin’ me outta house and home! I can’t wait till she finds a nice man to settle down with and move out. Well, truth be told it breaks me heart to think of it. You try to hold them as long as you can, but then a day comes when they don’t want to be around you no more. SpongeBob, never have children. You’ll live longer. I’ve been going grey since the day she was born.’’ ‘’That’s what I want to ask you about.’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly snapped his head towards SpongeBob as a dark look crossed him. ‘’You’re poppin’ me the question, ain’t ya, laddy?’’ ‘’Huh? What are you even talking about?’’ Mr. Krabs slung a strong arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. ‘’You’re a nice kid, SpongeBob. I’ve always thought of you as the son I never had. But I don’t know if you’re right for Pearl. No offense. So before you ask, I just have to say one thing: you’re already part of the family, and if you think marrying me daughter is going to get you that promotion, then think again. Because family or no family, you’re just not manager material!’’ SpongeBob blinked, and then shook his head. ‘’It’s not about Pearl.’’ Instead of growing relieved, this seemed to anger Mr. Krabs even more. ‘’What? Now you’re saying you’re too good for me daughter?’’ ‘’No, Pearl’s fine, it’s just—‘’ ‘’Just fine, eh?’’ ‘’She’s great, okay?’’ ‘’She’s pretty, right? Prettiest in all the seven seas?’’ ‘’Yes, absolutely!’’ ‘’So you do fancy her?!’’ Finally, SpongeBob had to push against the crab’s chest to knock some sense into him. ‘’Mr. Krabs, will you just listen to me!?’’ ‘’You’re not poppin’ the question?’’ ‘’No.’’ ‘’What is it, kiddo?’’ Mr. Krabs inquired, finally calming down. ‘’Well, you see…you dye your hair, right?’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly looked self-aware and his claws went instinctively to his head. ‘’What makes you say that?’’ ‘’Well…don’t get mad at me…but a long time ago, I saw this picture in your desk…’’ ‘’Oh, that one. Well, the cat was bound to come outta the bag sooner or later.’’ ‘’So…you went grey after the war?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’It was a few years after the war, actually, but yes, eventually I greyed at fifty.’’ ‘’That’s normal, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Sure, but I didn’t want me old Navy buddies to see how much I aged. And so I tried to find a dye that matched me natural color, with no luck. Me hair, SpongeBob, was a dark oak brown back in the day. Hard to believe, no? At least I wasn’t balding, but me friends still had dark hair at me age and I felt ashamed. So I holed up on a small Greek island, hoping that I’d be able to find au nat-ur-al hair color. Turns out that the only Greek colorings available were all unnatural hues of red.’’ ‘’Didn’t your friends say anything?’’ ‘’Nah. Me new red hair blended in with me claws so much, they forgot how dark I used to be. Why’re you asking me all this anyhow?’’ ‘’Oh,’’ SpongeBob smiled, ‘’No reason.’’ Mr. Krabs wasn’t so sure he believed him, but decided not to ask any more questions. ‘’So you’re picking up me daughter at eight and bringing her back no later than 9:30.’’ It wasn’t a request, it was a command. ‘’Take her somewhere fun, and make sure she throws out that damn shell phone!’’ * * * * * * * * * * Maybe it was common for forty-somethings to dye their hair, and though he didn’t mind coloring well into Squidward’s age, he didn’t know if he could keep that up until his seventies. If Mr. Krabs was still dyeing his hair at his age, SpongeBob wondered if he would ever be able to escape. When do you stop? He was reminded of a dinner party a few months ago, when he, Patrick and Squidward decided to have a date, only for Squidward to crash the party. He kept complaining about how lonely and depressed he was, and when SpongeBob asked him why, his response was, ‘’Have you ever had to bury your own mother at 24?’’ He deeply sighed and lamented how he wished he knew how to die. SpongeBob and Patrick of course dismissed such talk, as this wasn’t unusual for Squidward, but his words haunted SpongeBob in that very moment. Squidward didn’t know how to stop what had been started. That’s kind of how SpongeBob felt now about obsessing over his greying hair. No one tells you how—or when—you’re supposed to stop. Intellectually, he knew there would be a day when he would no longer color his hair. But how do you know when that day is? Will it be when his children go off to college? After his youngest child’s wedding? At the birth of his first grandchild? Or would he be the little old man in the nursing home who, with his last dying breath, demanded that the hair colorist be brought in for a final touchup? He shivered at the thought. And here he always regarded the two men he looked up to the most, Squidward and Mr. Krabs, as having aged gracefully. But they were as obsessed with their own mortality and vanity as SpongeBob was now at 25. He didn’t want to be like that forever, especially not at their age. All that stress would cause him to grey faster. And so as he went to pick up Pearl that night from the Krabs’ residence, he knew a teenage girl may be his last hope. Squidward and Mr. Krabs’s ‘’going grey’’ stories only made him feel ridiculous. A young man such as himself shouldn’t be trying to make himself look younger as though he were 45 or 70, going through a pre-existential crisis. Patrick’s grey-free locks—at 28—only made him feel envious. And Sandy’s cut and dry briefing didn’t help much either. He didn’t need lectures or experiences to help him through this. He just needed to let loose. He was about to knock on the door when it opened for him, and there stood Pearl in the doorway looking stunning as ever. Her dark hair, which was usually elaborately coiffed at the side of her head, was now pulled back into a bun with a pink bow to tie it in place. She wore an off-the-shoulder sweater over a sundress, plum in color, her long skirt ruffling in the light breeze. A silver bracelet danced on her wrist as she raised her arm to greet him. It matched her gold lipstick. As she looked into his eyes and gave him an innocent, childish smile suitable for a six-year-old, especially with that beauty mark at the top corner of her lip, all the breath left his body. ‘’Hi, SpongeBob,’’ she said. ‘’Um, hi.’’ He was surprised he could still speak. Pearl was just a kid, but she was growing up fast. Mr. Krabs suddenly interrupted them, appearing behind his daughter. ‘’Remember, have her back no later than 9:30, or I’ll make sure you never grill a single Krabby Patty for the rest of yer miserable life.’’ ‘’Daddy, stop embarrassing me,’’ Pearl teased, and kissed him on the nose before she stepped out onto the porch. SpongeBob suddenly felt underdressed in his blazer and khakis. He wasn’t even wearing dress shoes. ‘’Make sure she has the best time of her life or yer fired!’’ Mr. Krabs exclaimed before closing the door. ‘’He doesn’t mean it. You know he’ll never fire you,’’ she reassured him. ‘’I know,’’ he said. ‘’Um, I don’t drive, so we have to walk…if that’s alright. Or we can take the city bus.’’ ‘’Walking’s fine. It’s nice tonight, huh?’’ and she stepped off the porch, waiting for him to follow. ‘’Say, I’m going for my boating license soon. If I get mine before the next date, we can take a drive down at the beach.’’ Next date? He hoped she didn’t think they were going steady, or was only using him to impress her friends because she had a 25-year-old ‘’boyfriend’’. He hoped she knew this was just a favor for her father, although he liked her well enough, but truthfully, she was just too young. Once they got to ground level, SpongeBob realized she wasn’t wearing her usual platform sneakers, but instead, she was wearing flats, perhaps in an attempt to make him feel taller and less awkward. ‘’So where’re taking me?’’ she asked, as she fished for her shell phone in her purse and began to text someone. He eyed her, hoping she wouldn’t be more interested in the phone than in him through the course of the night. ‘’Sssh,’’ she said, putting a finger to her lips when she noticed his look, ‘’Daddy tried to hide my phone but that’s why I always keep a spare. If he finds out I have this, I’m grounded until I graduate college.’’ SpongeBob shrugged. ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t.’’ She laughed. ‘’I always thought you were weird, but you’re kinda cool, SpongeBob.’’ He laughed too, and for the first time all day, he forgot about his dilemma. He looked at Pearl again, in her Maybelline cat eye, and avant-garde chandelier earrings, and wondered if she would ever worry about aging. She didn’t seem to worry about anything. Even though most teenagers never thought too far down the road—he knew at Pearl’s age, he didn’t; he never thought he would ever get old—she didn’t seem the type to develop a keen appreciation of head scarves to hide eventual hair loss, and who would learn the lesson of never traveling without an emergency box of hair color. ‘’Hey, Pearl—‘’ She closed her phone and excitedly remarked, ‘’So I just texted my friend and she said there’s this swanky new joint in town, some new Tiki bar that just opened up! Wanna go?’’ ‘’You’re not the legal drinking age,’’ he pointed out. ‘’I’ll get in trouble if—‘’ ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t,’’ she shrugged. She grabbed him by the hand and they walked towards the direction of the bar. ‘’So, SpongeBob, you were going to ask me something?’’ ‘’Um, yeah. I just…see…it’s complicated…’’ he stopped in his tracks, and when she tried to pull him, he wouldn’t budge. ‘’Who died?’’ she asked. ‘’My hair.’’ ‘’Your hair?’’ ‘’I found a grey hair this morning.’’ She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘’Rough. Hey, aren’t you only 25?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ She approached him and, with a mischievous grin, she lightly poked his chest. ‘’Oh c’mon, you’re SpongeBob, you’re, like, supposed to be the happiest dude in Bikini Bottom! Do you think one little grey hair is gonna get him down?’’ SpongeBob looked at her, trying to smile, but it pained him to do so. ‘’I’m not always as happy as everyone thinks. I was like you yesterday. So full of life. Now I know how Squidward feels. Someday, it’s all over.’’ ‘’Nothing lasts forever,’’ Pearl said. ‘’If it did, they’d make permanent lipstick that didn’t fade throughout the day, am I right? But you don’t see me crying about it. That’s what the powder room’s for.’’ ‘’Yeah, I guess you’re right.’’ ‘’Let me tell you a story.’’ He sighed. ‘’I think I’ve heard enough today.’’ ‘’No, just listen. See, when I was a little girl I used to love playing with my grandma’s hair. It was pure white, like snow. I thought it was so pretty. I asked her, ��Grandma, when I’m your age, will I have long flowing white hair someday?’ I wanted to know how the world saw her and how she saw herself. I also asked why she decided to stop coloring her hair and was shocked to hear that she never colored in the first place. That generally leads to mental calculations about how many schools could have been built with what people spend in pursuit of avoiding grey hair. The moral of the story is, SpongeBob, my grandma wasn’t ashamed of aging. Once she started going grey, that was it. She just let it happen. I always wanted to be like her. And even though I’m wearing make-up now, I know someday I’ll think it’s silly. All I know is, when I’m old, I’m gonna have white hair, and rock it like there’s no tomorrow. Who cares what people think? In my opinion, I think it’s childishly stupid that my dad doesn’t let his hair grey naturally. I think he looks better grey, the handsomest man in this little town.’’ She playfully nudged his shoulder when she finished. He listened to her story, and realized she was right. It’s going to happen someday. You can’t avoid it forever. Might as well throw caution to the wind, and whatever happens, happens. He smiled. He couldn’t believe he was taking advice from a 16-year-old girl, but she had a profound wisdom beneath all that typical adolescence. ‘’You know what, Pearl? You’re right.’’ ‘’Amen, lil’ brother!’’ she laughed, and held up a hand for a high-five. He returned the gesture and said, ‘’Amen, lil’ sister.’’ Fin

#everyone can have their own headcanons for their ages but i just used the actor's ages #except for mr. krabs cuz the cartoon says he's 70???#but prolly in crab years i guess #my fanfiction #the spongebob musical #spongebob

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geek-gem · 8 years ago

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Warning Major Spoilers for Five Nights At Freddy’s Sister Location. Also the custom night ending cutscene music is playing again on the wiki. Well it and now it just stopped the music. Yet yeah major spoilers and I’m gonna talk a bit and used Bing to get these images, none of them belong to me, used Pixlr, but I’ll just start on this and paste this here.

“Father. It’s me, Michael. I did it. I found it. It was right where you said it would be. They were all there. They didn’t recognize at first but then they thought I was you. And I found her. I put her back together, just like you asked me to. She’s free now. But something is wrong with me. I should be dead. But I’m not. I’ve been living in shadows. There is only one thing left for me to do now. I’m going to come find you. I’m going to come find you.”

Fake Movie Meme. Five Nights At Freddy’s Sister Location. Andrew Garfield(The Social Network, The Amazing Spider-Man 1 & 2, Hacksaw Ridge, and Silence) as Michael Afton AKA Eggs Benedict. Ben Affleck(Gone Girl, Argo, Batman V Superman Dawn Of Justice, and The Accountant) as William Afton.

Also on a silly note all Animatronics voiced by their voice actors in game and maybe PJ Heywood still in some way.

I’m making this on DeviantArt this info I’m gonna copy and paste it to when I post this on Tumblr. But I’ve been wanting to make a Fake Movie Meme of Sister Location for quite some time. Today I felt like I wanna make this cause the ideas and emotion behind Sister Location and how the FNAF lore is now.

Also please I’m agreeing with some theories and some of my own yet do not wanna steal any. But please do not be rude about my thoughts cause these are mainly mine.

Over time with the custom night mode being released and the Golden Freddy Ending, the FNAF lore I think changed a lot. Introducing or mainly finally Scott Cawthon the creator of the series revealing the name of the character we play as in Sister Location as he mentioned of what happens with Eggs Benedict. The new character is Michael Afton, who shares the same name as William Afton the supposed Purple Guy or killer with his name revealed in the novel FNAF The Silver Eyes in that universe, with possibly Scott hinting the same killer exists in the game’s universe but this time with a family. With theories highly suggesting he’s the father of the two brothers from FNAF4 and also confirmed in a way the father of the girl from that speaks between nights of Sister Location. Along with appearing in the Circus Baby mini game.

I’m gonna say it, with a lot of the thing I like, I love the FNAF series. I feel kind of stupid that I’m quite scared to play these games and need to play on my other computer some time. Even seeing Sister Location I’m saying this and I think I might of said this but it’s my favorite. Mainly for the fact with it’s story being revealed more and more about who we are playing as. Along with what is going on with the lore.

Over the months just the reveal of Michael Afton and the idea he could be Springtrap is something truly changing for the lore. Including the idea of the story and what Scott could be hinting at. Along with just with me being fan of a lot of stuff. I’m glad I’m a FNAF fan and won’t stop. Because I feel Sister Location might of increased a bit. It’s also amazing for some silly stuff my own personal stuff of having my own version of FNAF in a universe with the canon Steven Universe and The Loud House, along with some Twisted Metal. But that’s another story. Mainly I respect Scott, yes the lore is a mess now. Yet I’ve got my own thoughts of what the timeline could be, but with Sister Location again I seem to like FNAF a lot more.

Which also showed when I was acting so crazy excited like Arin Hanson when the sequel to FNAF The Silver Eyes titled The Twisted Ones when it’s cover and story were revealed. That’s how I’m so engrossed into this series, along with meeting some nice people, and a whole bunch of other things. It’s amazing I never expected to be a fan but I’m glad I’m a fan.

Sorry was trying to get to a point. Yet I should just talk about the casting. Including should mention I’ve made Fake Movie Meme’s before but I do not like my older FNAF Fake Movie Meme’s and wanna remake them. I do still have them thinking maybe might post them to show this is my old works. But will replace them with newer versions. Also the fact the lore has changed quite a bit.

Along with over time I’m a bit serious with casting. Even if a lot of the characters faces and voices are not revealed, it’s fun thinking of what they seem like and love many versions. Including with a show like Riverdale which I do like and other things. I’m not the biggest movie fan yet will see many movies if I can. I do like the art of film making or just the idea of making a story.

Also wanted to put Michael first instead of William cause I keep seeing as Michael as a main focus. Including just saying did save a picture of Ballora when she first appeared in the first trailer forgot I had the part with the Scooping Room cause it’s an important part. Put Funtime Freddy and wanted Bon Bon to be seen cause people love them and their voice actor a bunch of lol’s three.

I’ve had these castings for a while.

For Andrew Garfield even if his voice is indeed not the same as PJ Heywood who voiced both Michael and William. Yet he’s British and yeah being silly or whatever, yet looks like he could be a live action version of the pixel version of Michael as seen in the custom night mini games.

But just saying I kind of have this man crush on Andrew Garfield. Yet his work in films that aren’t just The Amazing Spider-Man films since Sony messed with them. He’s shown he can be a really good actor, who can show raw emotion and other things. Including his passion with film and his acting could be great for Michael and I’ve always tried to have Andrew whenever I’m making FNAF castings. Mainly cause he’s a great person but also a great actor at that. I honestly feel he could play what I think and people have theorized a young man who has lost things in the past, willing to put his own life in danger and what his father told him. Along with the theory that him being the older brother from FNAF4 which I’m going with cause it makes sense, causing him over the years being depressed and hating himself yet trying to be a great person. Along with wanting to get his sister back in some way of saving her. Including being an very emotional man who used to respect and idolize his father but over time grew to hate him cause of all the things that happened.

It’s unknown how old Michael is, I’ve been thinking he’s older then all of the guards in the games but I do not know. I keep imaging as a guy mainly in his mid 20’s or even late 20’s, was thinking of early 30’s but gonna stick with early or late 20’s.

I’m just gonna link the wiki thing for Michael since it’s still here. http://fnaf-sister-location.wikia.com/wiki/Michael_Afton

For Ben Affleck and this is a choice Bluewolfavenger made for his fake Netflix FNAF series, “You Can’t” that focuses on the history of the timeline and the Purple Guy. Even if Ben does not have the voice a bit or he can get it right. It’s not as British as PJ Heywood’s as he was heard voicing William in the intro of the game. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5GTXaEfA7M

Yet I’ve been imagining and I’ve seen great versions of William artists have made. Their seems to be this mindset I seen for William. I’m gonna say this I do not like Batman V Superman Dawn Of Justice a whole lot. Yet Ben’s acting as Bruce Wayne kind of shows this a bit. I remembering mentioning the, “You Can’t” fake trailer and I rather have Ben Affleck be the Purple Guy for some reason in this DeviantArt journal talking about Ben Affleck leaving the director chair for the upcoming Batman film.

He puts on a performance showcasing a grown man a business man who on the outside seems pretty okay. Yet he has something dark within him, he hides secrets and he’s done some dark shit in the past. Along with being a man who created some animatronic made to kill kids which are Circus Baby, Ballora, Funtime Freddy, Funtime Foxy, also their little minions. Yet this results in the death of William’s daughter and the grand opening of Circus Baby’s Pizza World to stop and instead become a rental service to send out these animatronics to parties. It’s unknown whether he feels regret of what happened to his daughter. Yet it seems like he does not care much for his children. Seriously Ben might make a good William Afton. On a silly note, just photoshop his suit where he’s Bruce Wayne make them purple and I’m being silly.

It’s unknown of how old William is. Yet over time I’ve had this mindset that William is ether in his 30’s to 40’s to 50’s. Mainly over time he gets older. Just I’m thinking about the timeline and my versions too.

Also for some reason wanna see Andrew Garfield and Ben Affleck just acting together on screen and them playing a torment young man haunted by his past, and his father who has done many hideous acts yet does not show it a bit, would take control of his son wanting love and respect from his father. Or the fact Michael would need to talk to some one yet father might praise him for killing his brother even if Michael did not mean to do that. I do not know just something. Some family stuff between those two yet you get these two do not like each other, quite the conflict.

Just saying I’m gonna link and did go there but it was the archive of Bluewolfavenger on Tumblr. Will show you lol Will but gonna show you his FNAF works on his FNAF account. http://blue-wolf-avenger.tumblr.com/ First it was some 1 2 y 3 thing but their is the home page showcasing Ben Affleck as the Purple Guy or in this case William Afton.

Also just this trailer music……can we have this just I do not have the skills or stuff to make fake movie trailers. But gosh damn keep thinking about my own FNAF stuff and just wanting to use this music for a FNAF Netflix tv series that includes Sister Location. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rAv5zgtsmM

You know I keep thinking about Michael and William and how the Afton’s are very important such as a some what stupid show title The Afton’s but Henry and Charlie from FNAF The Silver Eyes are important too, with Henry being the founder and owner of both, “Fredbear’s Family Diner”, and, “Freddy Fazbears Pizza” and Charlie the main character of the novel and the upcoming novel The Twisted Ones almost put eyes instead of ones….please don’t die Charlie……I like Charlie and the other characters from the novel.

I’m gonna put tags for this just saying mates

edit put fake movie meme tag lol rag typo mate

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #sister location #michael afton #william afton #circus baby #funtime freddy #bon bon sister location #ennard #fake movie meme

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elesianne · 8 years ago

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A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter two

Chapter 2 summary: As times turn darker it becomes ever more difficult to see the good in one another.

Story summary: Curufinwë and his wife burn as one flame, but when darkness creeps in nothing is left but embers and then ashes. A study of the disintegration of one marriage among the downfall of the Noldor as a people.

Tag-type thingies (for the whole story): relationships: Curufin/Canonical wife, as well as various family relationships; some keywords: darkening of Valinor, flight of the Noldor, married couple, love, heartbreak, angst, hurt/comfort, then just hurt, sucks to be Celebrimbor

Warnings (for the whole story): Some sexual content, references to violence, emotional distress and cruelty, canonical major character death(s). Also: so much angst, excessive metaphors about fire and light. Rating: I rate this story as Mature to be on the safe side. I chose it because of the general dark mood of the story; sex and violence is very shortly described, nothing graphic.

(Also posted on AO3, DeviantArt and FF.net because I’m overly thorough.)

Chapter notes: This chapter turned out very long but then again, this period wasn't just a year or two, it lasted decades.

Another thing to keep in mind when reading this: while Tolkien kept changing his mind about whether or how the elves had weapons before they came to Valinor, it was clear in all his versions that they led a very peaceful life once they got there, and weapons and fighting (apart from hunting) were not a part of it before Melkor spoke to the Noldor.

Chapter II // Flickering flame

Disagreeing with her husband about the Valar is painful for Netyarë, but even harder is what follows those rebellious murmurings because it touches her more closely. The lack of love that Fëanáro has always had for his half-siblings and for Nolofinwë in particular becomes an enmity and a strife within the House of Finwë, the extended family she married into. Suspicions and jealousies are aroused in both Fëanáro and Nolofinwë, and cordial relations between others, too, become frayed.

The friendships between Maitimo and Findecáno, Tyelcormo and Irissë are sorely tried when their fathers become ever more bitter towards each other and all of Tirion is divided into factions. Nerdanel has always got along well with Indis, and Fëanáro has just about tolerated this; now this friendly relationship becomes yet another cause of argument between Fëanáro and Nerdanel, for she refuses to give it up for his sake.

For Netyarë, all interactions with her husband's family, which used to be easy and pleasant, become fraught with danger of missteps and outbursts.

And Curufinwë suffers terribly from the dissension between his parents, since he loves them both and does not want to choose, and now he feels he must. It is his deep love and loyalty for Fëanáro, and Fëanáro's inflexible nature, that makes him feel torn apart. It is difficult for him to be friendly with his mother when he knows that it vexes his father, and whenever Fëanáro forces his sons to take sides with one of their parents, Curufinwë always chooses his father. It surprises no one but pains him nonetheless.

Yet he speaks little of this pain to Netyarë. More and more he keeps his feelings inside, does not speak of them to her and sometimes even attempts to close off his mind. She would comfort him, in the matter of his parents' conflict at least, if he shared his distress with her; many times she has told him that revealing his fears and sorrows to those who love him is not a weakness, and she has heard Tyelcormo say the same, but Curufinwë seems to believe this less and less. Netyarë's own pride often keeps her from reaching out to him when it might be good if she did, because pleading with him to be honest with her when is reluctant to do so does not make her feel good about herself.

Nerdanel can see the cracks in her son's marriage, though they are still very small compared to the estrangement that seems inevitable between her and Fëanáro now that he ignores her opinions and advice, instead following his passions no matter how they hurt his family.

'Curufinwë and you are not Fëanáro and me; do not let our discord become yours', Nerdanel tells Netyarë one day on a visit. 'There is still much love between you two. Try to protect it from the tensions and unrest among our people.'

Netyarë tries. The silences she and her husband fall into to avoid talk of controversial topics she strives to fill by speaking of things which still unite them – art and craft, the few unproblematic family matters, their son. She tries to remember that Curufinwë is not his father, only similar to him; she tries to cherish the love she feels for her husband instead of resenting it for making things complicated.

You knew what he was like when you married him. It is hypocritical and stupid of you to fret over his flaws now, for you chose them along with choosing him as your own. You even chose his father's influence, though you did not know how extreme his ideas would become. This is what she repeats to herself in difficult moments.

Curufinwë tries too, in his own way. He brings her rich gifts even more often than he used to, breathtakingly beautiful things created by his own hand, so valuable and precious that she gasps when he puts them in her hands, and it is difficult to think of many occasions important enough to wear them.

'You do not need to shower me with gifts', she tells him gently one night in bed while he lays on her brown curls a delicate hairnet wrought of gold and silver and decorated with countless tiny, twinkling gemstones of every possible colour. He came home very late because he had wanted to finish it and give it to her on this night.

'What else would I do?' He speaks sharply but strokes the back of her neck as gently as she had spoken. 'How else would I show how much you mean to me?'

They had had ugly words two weeks ago, and many glacial silences since. It is unusual that Curufinwë is the one to first rekindle warmth, and Netyarë appreciates his effort.

'You just need to love me', she says and lays a hand on his.

Curufinwë takes her words very literally. He lifts the glittering hairnet off her head and sets it on the bedside table, and then kisses her with such infinite tenderness that it makes her want to cry. Instead, she answers his kiss with fire. But he does not allow her to escalate the gentle warmth to the raging flame they often become in bed; he lightly holds her arms down while he sweetly touches and kisses every inch of her body as if to show how dear all of her is to him, and for this night the silence between them is driven away by the soft noises she makes.

Curufinwë does not tell Netyarë when he begins with his father and brothers to hammer out weapons and shields instead of the beautiful useful and ornamental objects they used to make. Tyelcormo, believing that his younger brother has told his wife, lets it slip one day in a conversation between the three of them, and she is devastated.

That night they shout at each other as loud as they dare, trying not to wake Tyelperinquar but unable to keep their feelings inside. Netyarë, as hurt that he kept this a secret from her as she is horrified that he is creating instruments of killing, demands that he tell her what or who they intend to use these weapons against.

'We make swords so that we can defend ourselves against betrayal', Curufinwë says in a voice of cold steel.

'Betrayal like hiding things from your own wife?' she slashes back. 'That is the only kind of betrayal I see in our land.'

He flinches and says between ground teeth, 'I did not tell you because I knew you would be like this. You don't understand.'

'No, I do not! Make me understand, Curufinwë, if you can.'

He cannot, and this incident makes her no more receptive to the ideas espoused by Fëanáro and Curufinwë. And the knowledge that he lied to her stays with her, haunting her thoughts.

In fact, over time, all the things they thought they had left behind before they even fell in love come back to haunt them: the greatness of his family, the insignificance of hers, and the difference in between. His pride and superiority, her pride and conviction that in many ways that matter, his family is no more valuable than hers. His temper, its flames hidden but ever present; his father, and his unswerving loyalty.

And new causes of disagreement arise as well: her close friendship with his mother, which had before been a source of joy also for Curufinwë but is now a point of contention within the family, and her refusal to stop painting commissions for lords who don't support Fëanáro unquestioningly (there are few of those commissions, anyway, and eventually they stop entirely).

Once again, in order not to widen the gulf between them, they avoid talking about the things that cause them to quarrel: their differing opinions on the Valar, Nolofinwë and his house, the weapons.

Yet it is difficult to get along, and different from before. They are both different. Curufinwë tries to keep his temper in check, to speak coolly and act rationally even though his father's anger rages also in him. Some of the time he succeeds in controlling himself, but not nearly always. To Netyarë it seems that he is steel and quicksilver by turns, and she cannot keep up with him. She begins to grow tired of trying, and resentful with him for forcing her to accommodate his moods while she is unhappy herself.

There is a fire in him, this she has always known. But it has only ever warmed her or burnt her in the most pleasurable of ways before, never leaving marks she did not cherish. Now she grows afraid of being burnt; being truly afraid is a new sensation, and she discovers that she hates it.

Once when the two of them are leaving Finwë's palace and some of Nolofinwë's most fervent supporters corner them and strike up a conversation, she sees Curufinwë dig his fingernails into his palms as he attempts to rein in his temper, to speak in measured words rather than let out the furious shout that is already on the tip of his tongue. He presses his nails in so hard that after a few moments, she sees drops of blood swell up.

She makes up an excuse, something to do with herself, so that they can quickly leave the tense conversation. As they walk away both of them hold themselves straight and proud, her hand on his arm in a show of support, he fitting his longer strides to her shorter ones. This is all easy and instinctive, their public facade that became routine years ago.

Words are harder. Curufinwë says nothing, just stares ahead with his jaw drawn tight. Pity and irritation vie for control of Netyarë's tongue; pity wins out when she sees another crimson drop fall from his still-bleeding hand on to the skirts of her dress that thankfully is a dark pink shade, garnet-like, and does not show the blood very clearly.

'You can tell me', she says quietly. 'Whatever it is you wanted to say to them, you can tell me now. I will listen, and it might make you feel better.'

'It isn't anything that you want to hear.'

'I would still hear it if you would tell me.'

He does not. He says nothing and he conceals his feelings from her, and they walk home in fraught silence. Thankfully the bleeding stops before they get there.

Netyarë is sorry that once again he chose not to share a burden with her. She understands that he needs to hone his control over himself to keep his temper in check when tensions rise, but must he also keep her at arm's length? It happens more and more, him not accepting her offers of help, and it makes things harder for her, too.

That night in bed, when he finally turns to her in search of the comfort to be found in her arms, she tells him, 'You are too cold and too hot to me in turns.'

'But I love you.' He seems genuinely confused and upset, and a little desperate.

Is love enough after all? Afraid of the answer, she does not ask out loud.

Though they try to avoid speaking of their disagreements, the issues that cause strife between them and in their whole society inevitably keep coming up and as they grow ever more frustrated with each other, Curufinwë's arguments in particular become more personal and his words more direct and vicious.

'It is a grave betrayal indeed if the Valar truly brought us here so that we live in thraldom while they give the rest of the world to the second-comers', Netyarë concedes to him one day. 'But what proof do we have of them doing that?'

Instead of answering her question, he tells her harshly that she does not understand that she is a thrall of the Valar, and he does, for one simple reason: 'You are from the lower classes, and thus you are used to being ruled and have never imagined ruling a land of your own; you cannot imagine it. My family can.'

In their decades of marriage Curufinwë has never reminded her of her humbler background in a cruel way; in spite of his arrogance and pride, he has always treated her as his equal. If he had not, she thinks she would not have married him or indeed have been capable of loving him.

Now she sees that he regrets his words as soon as he says them, but he cannot take them back: they are between them now, another wall pushing them apart. She knows that he meant what he said, even if he wishes he had not said it out loud. And perhaps he is even right; she doesn't know if he is. But reminding her of her lower birth in that manner felt like cruelty, and it felt like the man she loves telling her that she is of less worth than he is. This she finds difficult to forgive even when he eventually apologises.

It becomes harder and harder for Netyarë to not act cold towards him at home, and to not let resentment usurp love's place in her heart. Supporting him in public is hard, too: standing silently by her man is against her nature, especially when what he says goes against what she believes. Yet she does it for a while, just stands there looking aloof or smiling, whichever is appropriate, thankful that she is better at pretending than many.

Then she begins to avoid all easily avoidable social events, and then the ones that are harder to skip, too, to avoid the pretence that is starting to make her feel sick to her stomach.

She throws herself into her work and into caring for Tyelperinquar; his father still spends a lot of time teaching him but Netyarë believes that far from giving their son all that he needs, Curufinwë's attention may well leave Tyelpë needing more of the gentler care that she can provide. Tyelpë may have already grown to be taller than his mother, but Netyarë thinks he still needs kind words and encouragement, not just Curufinwë and Fëanáro's strict tuition and high expectations. He may look eerily similar to them, but he is unlike his father and grandfather in temper.

Netyarë and Curufinwë have one of the worst fights so far, or at least the one that most greatly widens the rift between them though it is not as loud as some of the others, on a day he comes home with Tyelperinquar unexpectedly early. Their timing is not the only unexpected thing: to her horror, when she comes to greet them Netyarë sees that her son is swaying on his feet and being supported by Curufinwë, and Tyelpë's right arm is in a sling and his face covered in bruises, a particularly vivid one forming around one of his eyes.

'What happened?' she breathes in horror to Curufinwë as she hurries to help Tyelpë sit down in a comfortable chair.

Curufinwë looks like he is searching for words; her eyes narrow at him even as Tyelperinquar hastens to reassure his mother. 'Don't worry, mother, it was just –' He winces and touches his bruised jaw. 'It was just an accident. I will be fine.'

'He will be fine, really, Netyarë', adds his father. 'We already saw a healer, and it is only a broken elbow, the rest is just bruises –'

'What kind of an accident was this?' Her voice is low as she speaks to Curufinwë; it would be furious if she did not want to avoid upsetting Tyelpë. 'I though you two were going to work at the forge today. How did he come to be bruised, bones broken? It seems more like a hunting accident, yet he has never before come home from a hunting trip looking like this.' She gestures at their son's wretched state.

'We changed our plans.' Curufinwë moves his hands behind his back as if he has something to hide, but she has had enough time to see that his knuckles are bloody, too.

Tyelpë has been coming home with battered knuckles on many nights recently, Netyarë thinks, and moving stiffly as if after great exertion. And acting a little strangely with me.

'Are you training him to fight?' she asks her husband with deathly calm. 'Have you been hiding that you are teaching him to kill as you hid from me that you were forging weapons to kill with?'

'Mother, please –' says Tyelperinquar in a pained voice. He has always hated to see his parents quarrel, and this seems more serious and dangerous than most of their disagreements.

Netyarë tears her gaze off her husband's chilly and angry eyes, but she still feels his shame and anger in the connection between them as she turns to Tyelperinquar and speaks softly to him. 'Did the healer already give you something for the pain?'

'Yes, that's why I am a little dazed.' Tyelpë shakes his head as if to clear it.

She tells Curufinwë to help their son to his bed and herself goes to gather a few things to make him comfortable. When she comes to Tyelpë's room she tells her husband to leave and thankfully he departs without a word of protest, only telling Tyelpë that he will feel better soon.

'I am sure I will, father', Tyelpë says dreamily, already half-way to Lórien.

Netyarë stays until he falls asleep, and for a long time after. She can hear her blood pounding in her ears as she watches her sleeping son, dearer to her than anything else in the world. She had thought that Curufinwë felt the same way about Tyelpë, whatever his other faults. So how could he allow him to be hurt, even by accident?

Eventually she rises and goes to find her husband. To his credit, he has not run away to his own father but stayed at home. She finds him in his study pretending to work but really just staring at the ledger in front of him.

She sits in the chair in front of his desk, opposite him, on opposite sides of the table and the argument that they both know will begin as soon as she opens her mouth.

'Will you tell me about the fighting training you have been doing with him.' It is a command, not a question.

As tonelessly as if he were talking about something completely insignificant, Curufinwë recounts how he with his father and brothers had first began to practise martial skills amongst themselves and then, later, taught others, loyal followers of Fëanáro.

'And our son, whom you have made into a loyal follower of your father.' Netyarë is controlled in her anger as usual, but this time it is for her child being hurt, and her fury and grief infuse every seemingly calm word with power. The incandescence of it feels almost too much to bear.

'It is the custom for sons to be loyal to their fathers, as he is to me and I am to my father.'

She cannot believe that he is seeking defence in platitudes. 'As it is for husbands to be honest with their wives! Still, I should probably have grown accustomed to you lying to me by now. But this time you made him lie to me, too, and that I cannot forgive.'

'We have not lied to you about this, we have merely not spoken –'

'That is lying by omission and you know it very well, and so should Tyelpë! But then this has been a good opportunity for you to teach him deception and dissembling along with fighting, has it not? Since you have always thought him too forthright and open.'

'He is too open with his feelings and thoughts, Netyarë, and it is dangerous.' Curufinwë, too, seems desperate as well as angry.

'More dangerous than what made him come home today battered, barely on his feet? How did he come to be hurt so, if you were only training?'

'One cannot practise these things without risk. Tyelcormo misjudged his strength, and Tyelpë misjudged the distance –' Curufinwë stops speaking when he sees Netyarë biting her fist to keep calm, tears gathering in her eyes. 'I am so sorry that he got hurt, my love. I did not wish it.' Oddly, he never lays aside endearments even during their fights. Perhaps he considers them another weapon in his arsenal.

'Are you laying the blame on your brother?' She wipes away tears, unhappy that her anger is turning into sorrow so fast. She cannot afford to be soft, because her husband will never truly be.

'No, he was only sparring with Tyelpë because I asked him to. Because he is the best of us in this, and I want Tyelpë to learn from the best.' Curufinwë swallows. 'I misjudged too. I asked more of Tyelpë than he was ready for.'

'You keep doing that', she tells him, exhausted with this old argument. 'Why, Curvo? Why do you keep rushing his learning in the forge, and now in fighting?'

'Because he needs to learn these things.'

'But surely there is no such hurry, no need to risk hurting him or to drive him to exhaustion. There is time.'

Curufinwë looks like he wants to argue this point, and Netyarë wonders, Is there not? Why do you think so? What do you keep expecting to happen?

'Do not treat me like a child or a servant, Curufinwë', she warns him. 'I am your wife, and I have the right to know if you are planning something.'

Do you? he asks her, if only in his mind, and Netyarë knows that they are now searching for the limits of the roles of a man and a woman, of a wife and husband's relative rights. Their marriage has been more equal than many others, until now at least.

'Things may not always be as they are now. Times change', is all he says in the end.

'I know that.' To her pain, she does know it. She pauses, controls her temper to be able to drive her point across. 'But I still don't understand what it is that you need Tyelpë to learn to protect himself against.'

Once again, instead of an answer and understanding there is only silence.

'I am very sorry for lying to you', Tyelperinquar tells her the next day as they sit eating lunch together. Since his better hand is out of use, she cuts his food for him as she has not done for many decades.

'I know your father told you to do it or you would not have lied.' Tyelpë's freely given admission that he had indeed lied makes it even easier for her to forgive him. 'I understand your loyalty, but I also wish you know that you can tell me anything.'

'I know.' Tyelpë stabs at his food with his fork. 'Did father apologise too?'

She knows this is his way of asking if his parents have reconciled. 'In his own way, he did.'

Curufinwë had acted more decently than she had expected by saying that he was sorry that Tyelperinquar had been hurt and by admitting that he had made a mistake, and even though he had not actually apologised for lying, her treacherous heart has half-forgiven him. But she doubts she can ever wholly forgive putting Tyelpë in danger, and she certainly will not forget it.

'There will be no shouting between your father and me tonight', she assures her son. One night's peace is a pitiful promise, but she dares not promise more since she does not want to end up a liar too.

'I will keep training to fight better, once my arm heals', Tyelperinquar says after a while. 'I am sorry if it causes you grief, mother, but it is what men of our family do now. And I am almost grown up.'

'I know, my darling.' How could she not, when it feels like every day she has to look farther up to meet his gaze? She wishes he were still the bright-eyed little boy who found safety enough in her arms, but time marches on inexorably and he must find his own place in the world. It seems to be by his father's side, as little as she likes it.

'Your father is demanding with you, but he is proud of you, and he does love you too.' She hates herself for making apologies for Curufinwë, but even more she wants Tyelperinquar to be happy, and he needs to know that he is loved by the father he follows in all things.

'It's all right, mother. I know that he loves me.' Her son's grey eyes, the shape and colour of them exactly like hers, are filling again with light and warmth.

'I am glad to hear that.' She manages to give him a weak smile that seems to reassure him that she is all right – he is not as good at seeing though pretences as either of his parents, and sometimes even Netyarë worries about it. But he is otherwise smart and strong, and he has a generosity of heart that she cherishes even if Curufinwë thinks it a vulnerability, a weakness.

As they finish their meal in silence, an easy and comfortable one, Netyarë looks at Tyelperinquar with tenderness and thinks, Somehow you do always know that your father loves you, my dear boy. You remember it, but I think it has been a long time since he last told you so.

She is so proud of her bright, brave son, and as long as she has him she could never regret marrying Curufinwë.

Then one day, after countless days of growing tensions, Fëanáro strides into the King's council hall armoured and armed and threatens Nolofinwë with his sword. Curufinwë and his other sons go with him to the Ring of Doom when he is summoned to answer to the Valar for this deed, and for his words of rebellion.

Netyarë does not go. She had been at home with Tyelperinquar when her father-in-law committed his rash folly, and she has nothing to testify. The days she waits for news from Taniquetil are tense and filled with shadows that whisper questions at her.

The shadows ask her how she will bear it if the man who returns to her is even harder to love than he was before. What if, in this matter and during all years to come, he keeps siding with his father and disregarding her views and her happiness? How much longer can she tolerate being placed second in the affections of the one to whom she bound herself by supposedly eternal ties of love?

What will she do if things do not get better, only worse? The question echoes in the empty rooms of their big house. Could she ever yield, abase herself and accept whatever scraps of affection Curufinwë condescends to spare her, remaining loyal and loving in return for very little? Or will she be like Nerdanel, living in the same house with her husband but leading completely separate lives, their former devotion and intimacy only a painful memory? Perhaps she will try to drive him away from the house they lovingly made their shared home years ago, because at some point she can no longer stand the sight of him…

She does not know how to find a path back to happiness, but the thought of losing him tears at her heart. We have not had seven children and brought them to adulthood together, we have not had centuries of loving each other; I am not ready to give up on you yet.

When we chose each other you promised me a forever. It is turning out to be a very short time.

A/N: I tried to show in this long chapter that the disintegration of this marriage is not a straight descent from happiness to estrangement but a gradual process with better moments scattered amid the increasing alienation.

Fëanor is now well on his way to becoming 'terrible dad Fëanor' and Curufin's not doing too hot either, thus the 'Sucks to be Celebrimbor' tag. Netyarë's not perfect either, of course, but this is written from her POV so we perhaps see her flaws less clearly. And she is in a very difficult situation.

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