puddlebunni, The Wordsmith
Game dev with a heart of gold. A solid believer that sparkles make everything just a tad better.
>>I'm currently invested in PS2 rogue-likes, they're just so addicting to me. Slicing through the dungeons in Baroque and admiring my adorable little wings.
>>TouhouJam and then GlobalJam right after....Can't wait to die.
>>Getting ready to open up for art commissions. Check out my twitter for some examples, and DM if you're interested!
Nen! It's the energy of life! You've trained for years and finally it's time for your super awesome Water Divination Hatsu test! Find out your Hatsu and make Sensei proud, kiddo.
For those of you who don't know, Hatsu and Nen and all that are from this great thing called Hunter X Hunter. You don't have to know HXH stuff to play, but just say'n. Also, this is my first story game (not counting that middle finger to WC a while back) and I wanted to make a cool personality test. You may have multiple paths, so feel free to do whatever. I think martial arts look cool. Have fun!
Goodness, It seems like I'm actually doing something, huh? I'm so terribly busy but I hope this will turn out nice. It will be some time, though.
I can remember it all. I'll lay down and feel the boards creak below me, feel the dust settles on my worn out face, the the heaviness of some unseen thing. It's time to sew all the pictures back together.
I can remember sand getting up my nose as my parents car revved and turned into a speck in the distance.
I can remember my brother squeezing my hand, grinning as hard as he could.
I can remember the unseen thing, and what it wanted.
probs gonna be a long form not unlike this: http://chooseyourstory.com/forums/creative-corner/message/25153
its all in google docs for spellcheck proper, you fools!
Recent Postsboner time on 1/21/2020 2:21:24 PM
I'm not sure how long it'll be, but I do know where I want it to go. I try to make callbacks when I can. If something has happened, even if your mind tries to forget your body will make sure you remember. You'd mentioned before how it was locked to first person and the kids are just looping in their own minds, so I'll probably try something different.
I'm not exactly trying to rush to the ending at all (which is probably kinda bad of me hehe). I sorta just think, "What do I want to show?" For the last story, it was "timestuck sunny, sunny is lonely, sunny runs away". For the second one it was "PJ is far away from his body". The first one was just to get things started. I wanted to create the feeling of something else taking your body. I forgot what the point of this paragraph was, but that's that.
It would be really cool to update regularly! First though I've got to get things worked around more comfortably irl. I at least want to put a few illustrations in. Thanks for your interest, as always. It encourages me a whole lot.
How did you spend MLK day? on 1/21/2020 12:32:37 PM
That's extremely charming, Hatter. Or Hatty. I like the way that sounds.
There's a lot of detail and the colors are fun and friendly. I can see this doing well in children's illustration or something.
How did you spend MLK day? on 1/21/2020 10:57:20 AM
I went job hunting in my area. BILLS gotta get paid, ya know!
I did drop by the Half-Price to pick up some pretentious shmoozy Herman Hesse book about a sad art student with Edgar Allen Poe hair for a buck-o-five, and then I visited a cute boba joint. The girl there is super cute. It's hiring, too! She says she'll wait for me! (^v^) I can't wait to be judged by old asian ladies, but also, it's fast paced and I can show off my cute outfits!
boner time on 1/21/2020 10:35:21 AM
Thank you for keeping up. I kind don't want people to read it, but do want people to read it somewhat sorta. I appreciate it.
These are kind of practices of sorts, but they still have a canon they stick to. It'll be more structured at some point. But yeah, adult P.J. has some digging to do.
IWT 13: The Resurrection on 1/21/2020 3:30:12 AM
Wasn't that a bit in Interviews with a Vampire or something? Freaking Lestat. I want that twink obliterated.
Insomnia on 1/20/2020 1:56:34 PM
I'm happy to see you're back. Take it easy.
sunny and the rain and lightning on 1/19/2020 9:23:12 PM
As blood gushed out of my purpled nose and onto the wet concrete, I thought about something nice. Like snow. Like P.J.
We had this timeshare up in Canada because the government gave us money for things. It's kinda weird how that stuff works out. Anyways, we had this timeshare place-- it's this kind of cute cabin place-- and we'd stay there over Christmas breaks and then some. Dad would go out for skiing and I went, until my leg got bummed. I was pretty good at it. Gramma said I had the "Devil's Lightning " in me. It's apparently this insane zap quality you get about people when they're very careless and reckless and all, so I s'pose I gots a whole damn summer storm in me. I'd zip down the hill, going so fast that the flecks of snow'd hit harder than bullets against my dumb, red, face. I don't do that anymore. But if I could, I would. I'd hit a log or something and fly onto my back and I wouldn't care, I wouldn't care, I'd do it a million times over because I never learn. P.J'd look so damn worried when I'd whiz past-- He prefers watching-- and he'd always chastise me something awful if I crashed. He'd run, all the way down the hill to meet me. He always would.
I'd tried to get P.J. to take to the whole skiing thing, but he'd just get this polite smile and shake his head quietly. He's like that. Like an old person, an old person whose seen everything already and just wants to drink tea or something. He's about 4 years younger than me. He should be into running around wild and screaming like a chicken with his head cut off or talking all the time, but he just... Sits, and watches, and smiles sometimes. He used to smile sometimes. If I'd crash because I was a dumbass and flipped over myself or fell off the fence while crossing it or dove right into a snowdrift because I just forgot to think, P.J. would be there. I'd crash, and I'd look up and he'd be smiling over me like everything was gonna be alright.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a lot of dirt and shit lying around on the concrete.
The blood had crusted up over my lips so when I licked them it cracked like shortbread. My whole body kinda felt like shortbread. All crumbly and stuff. I uncurled a bit, like a pillbug away from danger, and let the hot iron sparkies nail themselves into my bones. I must've been curled up for a thousand years, I thought, maybe a millenia, maybe an eon, maybe more. A science book in class had this picture of some beetle inside and amber piece. The science book said that the beetle had been preserved for thousands and thousands of years because the resin in the amber hardened so no bacteria can get in. I got to thinking that I was probably stuck in amber for a very long times and that society as we know it has crumbled, and I was the only one left in the whole world and I could do whatever I wanted n' pleased. The more I thought about it, the harder I smiled. And the more I smiled, the more it hurt. Because I still had blood on my face.
I thought about what kind of motorcycle I'd like to get if humanity has ended after all, and then I got up. I must've broken 30 bones at least. I used to not be so terrible at fighting and all that-- I mean, I wasn't very happy about the whole thing-- but then I just can't move very well anymore. That was the trouble, I guess, dragging around that bum leg of mine. It took a very long time to pull it around so I could get up alright. Then, I wiped my face as best I could on my windbreaker and shuffled out of the alley with the package in perfect quality.
Inside the package is a milk puzzle. It’s this really smart person kind of puzzle where there’s no picture, just white on white on white so you can’t tell where to put things. You have to look real close at the shapes. I mean, I’m awful at ‘em-- I can’t focus worth a red cent of if there’s no picture there-- but P.J. just eats them up. He’ll focus real hard for hours, picking up each piece so careful you’d think they were made of glass. The one I got is a perfect circle, so it’s s’posed to be even harder because there’s no corner pieces. I’m sure he’ll like it. I hope he does.
Well, anyways I found a bus to 4th n’ Pike and then hopped another one right after real smooth-like because I didn’t have too much money on me anymore. Kirk might’ve taken it off me when I got shit-kicked, I can’t really remember. Kirk really isn’t too bad. I still kept my eyes open, though. I was sure he had enough fight left in him even after all that.
I bummed around for a short while by the metro because this girl with a guitar gave me a cigarette, which was nice. She was from out of state. She was ditching her ‘ol family ‘cos they weren’t very nice to her, so now she was getting money from playing the guitar at places. She’d been to Utah, and Idaho and Oregon. She said everything here stank of weed. She said she wasn’t gonna be held back by anything or anybody, and that now she’s alone and it’s the best feeling in the world. I thought it sounded kind of triumphant. Like what the star of some kind of movie would say.
I couldn’t spend my whole day there after all so I wished her luck and headed to the transit center when I faced a bit of trouble. There’s these big stairs, you see. My leg might’ve seized up a bit halfway down them, and I was left standing on the steps with a dumbass look on my face. It was very pathetic. I don’t mind if it tingles or if it zaps or shoots little spikes but when it dies-- Well, I get frustrated. Suddenly I had all this dead weight hangin’ off me and I can’t do anything about it. I just have to wait. The same thing had happened when I’d asked Kirk about the money, and now it was happening again for no goddamn reason. Some business-like people rushed on past me from their lunch breaks and pooled onto the platform below, hustling and bustling and pushing into one another like a giant amoeba of panic. Carefully, I slid from one step to another. I felt hot in the face. Back in body-shop, I’d lent Kirk about a good $40 for some ticket thing he’d wanted, as long as he paid me back. He said he would. The asshole promised, he did--
There’s the voice over the speakers, now, telling everyone to come aboard--
He looked so mad, he got a hold of my collar and I just couldn’t--
“The train is now exiting the station”--
My heel missed the mark and I managed to grab the handrail before cracking every bone in my body on the stone steps. I had a perfect view of the train and everyone in it, zooming off down the tunnel until they were a tiny speck of light.
Before everything had gone to hell, I went everyday to my best friend’s house after school to play Banjo Kazooie on his N64. He wasn’t very good at video games even though he was a complete nerd, so he just had me take care of things for him. P.J. could come along too if he wanted. Mostly he’d just sit and wait nervously to go home. The whole house was like another planet to us: The furniture all had those fancy claw feet on them, everything was either beige or gold and I don’t think there was a single speck of dust in the whole place. That’s because Mrs. Loharani, the mom, was very serious about being a mom. She even had those porcelain dishes you’re not s’posed to eat off of sitting in a glass cabinet you’re not s’posed to open. That’s how fancy they were. At first it felt wrong for us to be there, with is being so clean and nice. Mr. Loharani once walked in on me blowing some cigarette smoke out the open window. He’s the dad. I thought I’d be in big trouble, but he ended up lending me his left over boxes from then on.
“Just don’t let Ma see,” He’d say.
So really, they were generous people. I think the mom n’ dad were just happy that somebody’d bother with their son like that. I mean, he used to be so anxious about everything, tripping over his sentences and such. But he’d get all clingy. And he’d give me things. His comics, and games, his figures. He’d tell me everything. He had a very big mind in there.
Eventually he went to college. Law school. He’s a bit older than me, you see. We talked and kept up and visited and then all of a sudden, we didn’t. ‘Cos that’s how it is.
The reason why I bring this all up is because I was half-asleep on the bottom stair at the train station when I felt this tap on my head and it’s Mrs. Loharani, big winter coat with 30 scarves around her. It was a big surprise. I hadn’t seen her since a bit after my leg got bummed. I was pretty depressed then.
“Sunny? Sunny McAnderson?” She asked.
“Hiya Mrs.Loharani. ‘S good to see you,” I was about to get up but then my leg shook me back down, so I stayed put. “I’m just on my way to visit P.J.”
“Sunny, you look awful!”
I made the mistake of wiping at my face, only to realize I might’ve just smeared cruddy blood all over it again. “Sorry ‘bout that. I think I forgot.” I’d forgotten I might look a little purple, too. I probably was full on monstrous.
Mrs.Loharani looked awful worried, bundled up under all those scarves.
Most people would say something like hello goodbye see you later maybe and disappear after that, but not this woman. She reached down and picked me up by the arm even though my leg was shaking away and said “You can spend the night in Matt’s room tonight”.
“Actually, my train’ll be--”
“Boy, I don’t know what you’re expecting to do but you look like you’ve been hit by a car. The train will be there in the morning. Are you going to argue with me?”
I let her swoop me away, because that’s just the kind of person Mrs.Loharani is.
She paid for my ticket onto the streetcar, and when I sat down she lighting quick pulled out her handkerchief and began to dab all the crud off my face with it. I felt sorta bad, ‘cos all my face gunk was getting on her nice embroidered handkerchief. I couldn’t even say anything. She was already gabbing away.
“Papa thinks he’s got so many good investments,” She said, giving the hankie a lick before dabbing at my sorry face again. “And I just try to keep him mindful, you know, but men think they have it all together. That man just puffs his cigars and signs whatever he sees. I have to read them over for him or else nobody else will. He’s opened up an optometry place, did you know? Oh, you couldn’t, you were out. But if you ever need an eye appointment, just tell us. Your father wears glasses, yes? He should visit us sometime. You never visit anymore. What am I supposed to do? I just can’t believe it. Matt doesn’t even call unless we force him--”
I felt like a rock had just dropped on my head. “How’s Matt?”
“He’s fabulous, his professors say he’s got an articulate mind, you know. He’s come down to visit.”
After that, I couldn’t stop thinking. About Matt. It’d been a pretty long while, so he must’ve looked different and all. Maybe he’d grown a mustache. He’d always wanted to do that. It looked strange in my head: The image of that skinny, big nosed kid leaning over my shoulder to look at the TV screen, a goofy mustache slapped on just because.
We left that street car and walked a couple blocks. My leg was a lot better by then, but I could tell she was watching me carefully so I wouldn’t lag behind. She asked me how therapy was going. I said great. She asked about P.J. I said he was adjusting well. She asked if I’d eaten yet. I said I’d had breakfast but that’s it. She said she’d make chicken curry for us all. That made me feel warm inside.
We eventually got to the house, which was just as I’d remembered it. The finely trimmed hedges in front with the well-kept yard and sprinklers everywhere. I felt like, between then and now, nothing had happened after all, that I was just napping for too long and it’s gonna be alright. “Hurry in, dear,” Mrs.Loharani was already unlocking the door while I'd been thinking off to Mars in the lawn. “Papa will be down later for dinner.”
Everything was the same. The same beige and gold, the same pictures on the wall, the same everything everyplace. Goddamn, I couldn’t believe it. It’d only been a few years but still everything had stuck around. I leaned over one of the chairs to see if that marking Matt and I had etched behind the tea table was still there. It had to be. But there was somebody else there.
“What are you doing?” It was Matt. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of hot tea and a textbook. He was a lot taller than I’d thought. Taller than his own dad. His face had caught up to his nose so it didn’t look that big anymore, and there was a shadow around his chin of where a beard was coming in. My best friend looked like an adult.
“I thought--” Something got caught up in my throat. It was embarrassing. “--Well, uh, remember when we drew something back here? With my carving knife?”
I waited for something to happen. He stared at no place in particular for a while, and then turned to walk back up the stairs. It began to rain.
I think I shouldn’t be here anymore.
The last few hours I can't really pin down too well. Mrs. Loharani asked me lots of things. She was real patient. I realized she was talking nicer and nicer to me, like as if her raising her voice would shatter me into a million pieces. I s’pose she’s not wrong. My face feels sore, because I smile when I'm nervous or angry or sad even and I just can't help myself, no matter what I try. I remember she gave me tea. She asked me lots of things and I'd try to give good answers but my mind began to move like molasses. Matt hadn’t said anything. I tried to think of why. Mrs.Loharani handed me some tea. I said thank you very much. My insides were getting dull, so I gulped some down too fast without realizing it was too hot and I choked it out over myself. Man, Mrs. Loharani's face. I'd choked it out on myself like I was three or something and her mouth was just hanging open. Picture me, nose purpled and spitting around in a thrift store windbreaker right in some nice lady's lounge. My windbreaker has a hole in the armpit. It wasn't made very well.
Right after that I think Mr. Loharani walked in with his cigar box to show me and I started laughing. It wasn't funny, I know, but my lightning started acting up and I couldn't help myself in the slightest. I was zapping myself to death. I was sizzling to dust on the floor. I spit a little. It felt like all the lightning and all the thunder and all the everything inside of me was burning it's way to the surface and slicing right through my skin. I must've been that way for a good million, maybe hundred million years. And then I got up and went to the bathroom for two hours.
I couldn’t think of anything. I think my brain cogs must be knocked out a bit funky. I could hear Mrs.Loharani whispering to the Mister something about me.
Dinner was real nice. The old man and missus were very polite and made nice small talk about the optometry business. Matt didn't look at me the whole time. I felt like dying a bit, not because of Matt exactly but maybe only slightly, and then when it was over I went to bed and now I'm alone in the dark. They lent me His room ‘cos they are nice people. I wonder if Matt still has that lighter I gave him. Maybe not. I dunno.
I'm not good at giving gifts, I think. People act real polite, but I feel like I just can't tell if they mean it or not or if when they say "you shouldn't have" and such. I'm just not very smart at it. The lighter wasn't even the real gift, it was just something I had on me as a placeholder at the time-- Matt had put me on the spot very quick-like. He was going off to law school. He was asking for something to keep.
"To keep?" I'd no idea what he was meaning, but he looked serious about it.
"Yes, to keep. I thought it would be kind of cool, I guess."
"I don't mind." So I fished around in my pocket and plopped my heavy silver lighter in his hand. It was the one with the half-rubbed out engraving on the side, all these delicate curls fading into the parts where the silver shines off. You couldn't even see the words on it anymore.
He closed his hand very quick around it and smiled.
His bedside drawers are empty, and so is the underneath of his bed, and his closet too except for a few random button-ups he must've not been too fond of. Maybe he did take it. But I can also picture him leaving it someplace and forgetting about it and not worrying about it all, and now it's completely gone forever for real. I can still remember the weight of it in my hand, and then the way it made such a fantastic zap when you flick it, and how I'd use it everyday behind the building at lunch. I want to ask him if he has it but it's the middle of the goddamn night and I've already traumatized them enough. They're really nice people. Mr. Loharani got to open up a fancy optometrist business in downtown, and Mrs. Loharani is a part of this ladies knitting group that makes hats for depressed orphans, and Matt is in a nice law school with a lot of very smart friends who talk about encyclopedias and other nerd things with big words like "circumlocution" or whatever the fuck. I s'pose I'm not suited to this sort of thing. I sit at the edge of the bed looking out onto the street where the road was slick with raindrops.
The rain pelted harder and harder in my head until I'm sure there were little pellet shapes in my skull. It had been raining for a hundred years now, and it was going so hard that people and cars and such got all lost in the tiny bullets. I couldn't even hear the thunder anymore. Just a whole planet of rain, rain that goes on forever. Right before my leg died, there's this tiny hand that rested on the top of my head and it belongs to P.J., and it's gonna to be alright. It's gonna be alright in the end. I know it. 'Cos even if it takes forever, P.J.'ll be waiting for me at the bottom of the hill.
Somebody is using the bathroom in the hall. I wait until they're out, and then a little more, and then I tuck P.J's gift under my arm before slipping down the stairs. Nobody notices me leaving. I make sure the door is locked behind me. It's gonna be okay.
The night is cold and empty, and I'm the only one here. I hobble as fast as I can to the station with my package pressed tight against my chest. I can hear the rain.
I'm gonna go eat curry. Curry is my favorite food in the whole wide world. I could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner and never be tired of it. I'm actually a huge wuss and i can't do spicy things in the slightest so I can only get like 1 star or 2 star mostly. My sister, she's pretty okay at spice. I can't remember. I was gonna write something else but I'm too hungry. I spent a long time writing this and I don't know if i care for it or not. I'll decide after curry.
oh yeah this is about sunny, pj's brother who is mentioned sometimes. he's probably fine. curry
#BEANSQUAD on 1/19/2020 2:52:29 PM
I actually have never seen Taxidriver, I just know that the soundtrack is supposed to be Super Epic Incredible. Only recently did I realize the true nature of the movie. Before, I thought it was just a guy driving taxis in a very mundane taxi driving fashion.
#BEANSQUAD on 1/16/2020 4:03:55 PM
I might end up making a new thread waaaaaaaaaaaay later with all my Big Brained Thoughts because there sure is a lot to go over, and I haven't even reread it yet. But yeah, Rory.
At first he's like, kinda cool. Very crusty. Fedora-tipping. #hardcore, don't talk to me-- But then I caught on to the scktick with this darned thing. I think it's easy to like Rory: He's the guy you see through first, he's punching bad guys, he's eatin' beans and he really hates EVIL and SHIT. We like him. He's the guy you latch onto as "good" because he's the first one you see. When reading a story, I think we all sort of grasp at someone or something to ride along with in good conscience. He's cool and gritty so it's only natural to get somewhat fascinated.
Getting that outta the way, Rory is Big Fuckup. Before the halfway point I kept noticing that he would jump to the sexual side of things-- Calling women whores, seeing a guy getting mugged in an alleyway and assume it's going to lead to rape, calling Ozzy gay because he doesn't have a partner (lmao), seeing Owlcuck and Lady Person out together and thinking they're cheating from the start. It was like a thistle in my sock the whole way. You see his childhood, and it makes sense. He's a crusty, lonely, twisted societal reject with a face like peperoni and a mind covered in blisters. Fuckin' nasty. I also like how gross his face is. It's almost like the author himself was revealing that your hero is just that smelly kid in highschool who hid dead rats in his backpack or something. He fights against "evil" yet never seems to find good in anything, because he's playing a part. The world is a nasty zit in need of popping.
His death made me feel kinda bad. But I guess that's the only way it could've gone. People find him heroic, because he "never compromises in the face of evil"... The truth is that he sees the world in black and white. Wait, that's probably why his mask is the way it is, huh? Everyone in this shitstorm sees the world differently, like it's a Rorshach test. And Rory sees it black and white, ugly wherever you go.
What are we reading now? on 1/16/2020 2:55:29 AM
I think Doctor Sleep was my first Stevey book, I'd picked it up in mid high and found it okay. Entertaining and all, but alright. I can't seem to get scared by any of Stevey's works for some reason. And his characters...They don't do it for me. They're alright, but when I read his books it feels underwhelming. Maybe I've been piped up about all his stuff too much or somethin'. I will say The Long Walk is fantastic and made me more and more excited with every painful page. Ghosts and psychics and people huffing child juice like life-giving vapes are pretty spooky, but have you ever been left alone with your thoughts? Double spooky.
I will say Doctor Sleep got me super into the idea of psychic kids, so I wouldn't stop drawing these cute little characters haunted by ghosts just like in the book.