realityshifted

[there is a new building on the Plane! or, rather, a room--from the TARDIS, to be exact. Oliver has propped its door open with an oddly-shaped metal canister, allowing the Plane's residents to see that the room basically consists of an outside ledge around a giant ball pit. yes, a ball pit--filled to the brim with shiny, multicolored, hollow plastic balls]

[Oliver is standing in the doorway of the room, looking nervous but hopeful, and holding a gun] I figured we could use a break after, you know, everything. And I... [his expression slips slightly, but only for an instant] Well. I want everybody to have a chance for some fun. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get it all here, but it worked!

And this might make things even more interesting. Watch! [grinning, he turns to face into the room. first, he fires the gun at the ceiling, creating an oval outlined in blue. then he fires again, into the corner of the pit this time. anyone watching can now just see the edges of an orange oval in the pit. there are now two ovals rather like these. the balls around the orange one are pouring into it--only to reappear falling out of the blue hole in the ceiling. this is creating a sort of ball waterfall, which due to momentum is causing lots of flying balls as well. a few even go rolling out the doorway]

What do you think? Jump in!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[watches Nathan uncertainly, but he has a seat on the sofa] Uh...okay...

Her name was Rebecca Nightrod. She was a model/actor/tennis player. Hot as fucking hell. We were dating, you know? First sort of successful relationship I had in a while. The rest of the band didn't want to touch her. Well, I mean, they wanted to, uh, you-know-what with her? But not date her. Too much of a bitch.

[He seems just a bit bitter and sad.]

She was one, just saying. Yelled at me all the time. Called me a retard, called me 'tonto', which just isn't fucking cool at all, but, you know, she was my girlfriend so I just sort of shrugged and bared it. Got smacked around a few times. God. I fucking hated her. I hated her so fucking much I wished she'd drop over dead so I could be free of her.

I was, uh, too afraid to break up with her. She was fucking scary. Who knows what she would have done if I tried to defend myself at all.

[Nathan leans back and crosses his arms.]

I finally got the nerve to break up with her after the band tortured me for ages. Never got to do it though. She fell down 10 flights of stairs and ended up in a coma. I couldn't... break up with her then. I still... mmf'd her, you know?

And I mean, she was finally the ultimate girlfriend. She wasn't yelling anymore, wasn't insulting me, wasn't like, smacking me for not listening to her. I could finally talk to her since, uh, she never let me talk before then. And you know? I stayed with her for a year. I would have stayed with her longer. I visited her a lot, I brought her flowers, talked to her.

Then she cheated on me. And dumped me. While she was in a fucking coma! I never really got over thinking that was my fault, you know? If I wasn't doing anything wrong, she wouldn't have left me for that douchebag she's with now. I lost the greatest fucking girlfriend I've ever had because I did something wrong and I don't even know what it was.

[He finally stops and sighs.]

So what I'm saying is. Don't fucking, you know, lose something great because you've got problems. At least you know what yours are so you can like, avoid them or keep an eye out for them. You'll just be stuck thinking about it and wishing you could have done it differently.

[His story may have had nothing to do with that, but the point is he tried.]

[that is a completely horrifying story, Nathan. nevermind Oliver has no idea how someone in a coma can cheat on you]

I'm...sorry, Nathan.

[but at the moral of Nathan's story, Oliver sighs, not meeting Nathan's gaze] I know... I'll go back. Just...not yet.

[He waves his hand dismissively.]

Just don't procrastinate, alright? It's easy to say 'I'll go back tomorrow, in a week, next month' so on. It's a whole fucking lot more easier than bucking up and just, you know, doing it. You'll totally want to kick yourself in the ass for being such a clueless dildo afterwards.

[laughs weakly at that] Yeah. I'll keep that in mind.

...thanks.

[He claps Oliver on the shoulder.]

Don't worry about it. Fuck, I do this off and on back home. Somehow I became the father figure for my bandmates, who woulda thought of it.

[He chuckles.]

But hey. Don't get too fucking worked up over external shit. That watch thing? Doesn't mean anything. Yeah, you were a dick and you said some things that really fucking got to me, but you know, it wasn't, uh, you.

[cringes, glancing at Nathan] They weren't true, either.

[He shrugs.]

Some of it. I can be a pretty fucking callous asshole. Especially to fans. I mean, uh. I do go tell them to die. On a preeeeeetty frequent basis, and I don't give a shit if they do.

[He pauses.]

Try to keep your recoiling in horror in check for a minute, but like. Dethwater. That album? Caused over a million people to drown themselves. My only concern after the countless lawsuits? "How the fuck do we top an album that made over a million people kill themselves?"

So some of it was right on the mark, just saying.

I... [he swallows hard, dropping his gaze. he's trying really hard not to recoil in horror] You're not all like that. [it's a firm declaration, not inviting arguments]

[Nathan grins a bit.]

Maybe. Though hey, fuck if I can control what my fans do. If they want to buy an album intended for fish and then take the songs as fucking instructions, it isn't my fucking fault, right?

[wow, that just made it even more horrifying] Uh...yeah. How could you know?

[Nathan can't help that somehow his voice is ... uh. Apparently quite hypnotic when in snog form. He also doesn't realize. :| And it's a good thing he doesn't know his music is used to torture prisoners in Mordhaus. Or that with slight tweaking of Dethklok songs you can completely brainwash someone into being your mindless slave...]

I couldn't! So. Yeah. Not my fault. At all.

[Good someone agrees that it isn't his fault.]

So, uh. Sorry for mentioning it. I know that shit gets you bothered. But it was an example. Of stuff.

No, it's okay. It was...you know, a good example. [smiles a little uncomfortably because his brain is still going "a million people!?"]

Oh, hey! Do you want to see her? [subject change is a go! he reaches in his pocket to pull out his datapad]

[He grins widely.]

Fuck yeah, motherfucker!

[grins back. the only photos he has are from way back when the Plane let them all wish on stars. he knows the Chloe he saw that day probably wasn't the real one, but it's not like she looked any different. he holds out the datapad proudly, showing Nathan a picture of a young woman with wavy, longish blond hair and bright brown eyes]

[Nathan takes the Datapad and looks at the picture. Brown eyes. Nice. He passes it back to Oliver after a few moments.]

She's very pretty.

[smiles warmly down at the picture, though that tinge of sadness is still there] Yeah. I'm really lucky.

[turns off the datapad, standing so he can slip it back in his pocket] Well...thanks, Nathan. You're a real mate.

[Nathan just grins.]

Hey, you don't have to fucking thank me for being your pal, man.

[He laughs, finding this somehow amusing.]

[laughs] Yeah, I know.

Thanks all the same.

[020]

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