Pink Is Such An Ugly Color
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WIP Adventure Time fic
🕑 Added 2024-11-05 22:12:16 +0000 UTCThis is a little sneak peek to the first chapter of one of the two Adventure Time fics I'm working on! I have a lot more WIP projects, which if you pledge you'll be able to access! If I don't fumble setting that stuff up :P This chapter will be, or at least it should be, free for all to see!
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Not All Nymphs Are Female!
C1: Log 01
Hello World! I finally found a blank book to write in! And a pen, and a pencil. And wasn’t this a hard find? Had to scavenge a half-flooded building and almost crush myself under debris to find this damned book. Was it worth it? Gods, no it wasn’t. But who cares? I can finally document and keep a memoir of my adventures and findings. I don’t think I would survive for long if I didn’t. My memory was always spotty at the best of times.
Didn’t help that I was somewhat scatterbrained, ha!
Granted, I knew I was like that due to my ADHD… Hmmph… Should I explain what ADHD is? I don’t think I would forget what it means but… Oh well, it couldn’t harm me. I mean, my hand already aches from writing this little, but who cares? I surely don’t.
So, I don’t actually remember what ADHD itself is. The deets, that is the details, of it. I only know it means Attention Deficit Hyperfocus Disorder. Or something along those lines, I wasn’t sure if that was right or wrong. There was also ADD, which was only Attention Deficit Disorder. Which might be what I actually suffer from, but, well, it isn’t like I was ever properly diagnosed. And most if not all people that could tell me that are now dead.
A Nuke of Change would do that. Or several million? I wasn’t sure if it was only one bomb, or multiple of them. All I knew was that, A) I was lucky enough to be far away from them when they dropped, B) That I was lucky enough to have had prepared for such a thing, and C) That while I wasn’t strictly American, I carried the Spirit of the Eagle and of Freedom in my double-barrel shotgun and my trusty Mauser C96… Or, well, it wasn’t technically a Mauser but it looked and functioned the same. And I had a shit ton of ammo for it.
Was it wise to waste 60% of my paycheck doomsday prepping? Absolutely not, but hey it paid off! Quite literally, I don’t think I would’ve survived for as long as I have otherwise. Still, I really should’ve brought or found something to entertain myself. Technology was slightly more advanced and weirder, but the Internet was the quickest thing to vanquish in the new age.
Age of Magic or whatever the fuck keeps mutating the wildlife. I’m 99% sure that it is actual magic and not mutation. Or if it is mutation then whoever came up with that fucked up Comet-Bomb ought to be burning in the deepest pits of Hell. If they weren’t, I sure as hell will.
Anyways, returning to the ‘’Age of Magic’’ thing. Pretty sure Magic is a thing or is returning or something. Now, I don’t claim to question reality and what is real or not. Never had that level of dissociation before, only ‘’simple’’ stuff like not feeling like you are actually in your body. But anyway, I have been experimenting, and one eerie thing I found out?
I can conjure fucking Water out of thin air if I focused and thought really hard about it. It was an amazing discovery, one that I wished I could’ve logged it down but… Well, I only just now found this blank book to use with empty pages. Of course, I wasn’t writing this in the half-flooded… Half-sunken building more like. No, I was back in my little house. Or cabin.
I wasn’t sure what it technically qualified as. All I knew was that it was mine, brought and made out of my own sweat and brown. A place where No Gods Or Kings existed, but Only Man!
Oh boy, how I missed video games!
Can you imagine being stuck in a real apocalypse? All the movies, novels, and fics always make it seem like real fun but fuck me if that couldn’t be farther from the truth! Not even those ‘’self-aware’’ fics or stories really showed how fucked up it can and it is to live in such a world!
I have to fucking fight radiation zombies! By the Gods sake! Radiation zombies are completely unbelievable and deadly! I was just glad that while they were attracted to loud noises, a silencer was still quite useful.
Never ever fire a gun without a silencer on! Or a way to cancel out the sound of the gunshot!
Still, Rad Zombies were the least of my worries. Survivors and the wild creatures that are starting to crop up are what scare me and put me on edge. I didn’t trust people, at all. Growing up in an abusive household and living to see your parent's divorce would scar and change people in unique ways.
Didn’t help that those fucking pigs never saw my mental issues! They never took me to a doctor to get diagnosed when I clearly showed signs of being Special! But enough about those dead fucks. They didn’t even exist here, and while my new family was much nicer they still died much earlier than my original parents. I mourned their loss… Occasionally. Now, now! I know that sounds callous and rude and uncaring, but I quite literally had years to get over their deaths.
Still didn’t mean I wouldn’t think or mourn for them at random times of the day. But… Well, I had bigger things to worry about than dead cadavers… Okay maybe I had to worry about them raising from the dead, but they were cremated so… Nothing to worry about.
Side note, if Necromancy is a thing find out if they can resurrect things from ashes.
Side Side note, note down all types of magic found.
That is If I didn’t hallucinate that dart of water I conjured up. But I don’t think I had to worry about potentially hallucinating. As far as I was aware, my blood didn’t have any hallus in them or drugs. Besides the occasional Radiation Meds that I took whenever I dared to venture into the city to scavenge for supplies.
Granted those ventures were mostly born out of boredom. Even if I allowed my gluttonous side to act up, I still had supplies for three years. Yes, three years. Not a lot of food lasts that long in real life, or as close to ‘’real’’ as I can get here. Was I just a conjured-up thought in somebody’s mind? Of course I was, I’m imagining myself writing this. Another person writing it. Still doesn’t mean I ain’t physically noting this stuff down…
Gods I miss talking with my friends. I had no one to talk to but myself, and I already did an unhealthy amount of that. Granted it was an actual habit that I have, one that I think most people have and no matter what they say I don’t believe for a single moment that talking to yourself or thinking to yourself out loud is an unhealthy thing.
I mean, it probably is, but fuck ‘em! I ain’t letting anyone near my damned property without shooting their kneecaps off, and then their heads. Still, I don’t think I have to worry about-
…
The cry of pain that I suddenly heard was painful, and was one that I recognized. It was human, or at least human-sounding. I was hidden under my bed, a habit I developed once I started worrying about invaders, and I was reluctant to leave my hiding spot. I put my journal down, before I grabbed my double-barrel shotgun, cracked the barrel open, and nodded to myself.
It was loaded, and I had just cleaned it earlier in the morning. Checking the only non-electrical clock that I had, I grumbled that it was almost nightfall. Whatever the hell got caught in the beartraps around my property will probably attract the attention of either people or Rad Zombies. And the last thing I needed was to make a last stand or have to relocate due to a horde of those abominations. I regretted many things, wished for many more, but one thing I never wanted to change about myself was my sociopathy.
Being a sociopath in the apocalypse made things infinitely easier. I didn’t feel guilt at killing things, or at least it never arrived while in combat or in such. I did regret killing things. Sometimes. But I haven’t regretted killing Rad Zombies or blowing people’s limbs off of their bodies and letting the Rad Zombies to consume them whole. Survival of the fittest and all that.
Crawling from under my bed, I was quick to scan my room before I neared the window slowly. Looking through one of the boarded-up planks, I shivered at what I saw. It was one of those mutants or magic fucks. It looked like a werewolf, but its hands were heart-shaped instead of having actual hands. It was crying like a little bitch as it tried futilely to pry open the bear trap that snatched its left leg.
I debated if I should pull the hunting rifle out of its case. I barely had any ammo for the thing, and its barrel was… Less than accurate due to being so old and unaligned. It was an ancient rifle from my family. Specifically my Gran-gran-gran-gran-grandad’s hunting rifle. We all took great care of the thing, but age catches up to all and the gun isn’t exactly weapon worthy anymore. Still didn’t mean that thing couldn’t punch through two walls of steel like nothing. No clue what sorcery or model of rifle it was, but the thing could probably kill elephants with one shot anywhere in their bodies.
‘’Not today…’’ I murmured as I took my eyes away from the framed rifle on the wall.
I watched the half-human half-wolf abomination continue to cry out in pain for a few moments before I finally gathered the courage to go and put it out of its misery. I might be a sociopath and felt no guilt in killing things, but I sure as hell wasn’t a courageous person. I was a coward, and I prized that bit of myself because that was my damned survival instinct made manifest. Still didn’t mean I didn’t hate it occasionally.
Moving to my front door, I unlocked the three locks it had, before I removed the hardy wooden block that was used to barricade it. I wasn’t sure of what it’s name was, it was one of those medieval things that they used to block doors, y’know? But that didn’t matter at the moment.
That hug-wolf or whatever that abomination was called had to die. And I already delayed its death for a long while.
My head was on a swivel as I stalked towards the injured beast. I didn’t know if it was alone, but if its cry of pain and help didn’t bring anyone else towards it, I could potentially hope that it was alone. That or it was a trap, which if it was I still had my Mauser on my belt. Only 21 shots with the extended clip, but as long as their skull weren’t that thick I’m pretty sure the 9mm would crack their skulls open just as well as old Bessie here on my hands does.
I was two feet away from the beast when it finally noticed me. Its intelligent eyes looked at me, begging me to help it, and as it spoke, I couldn’t but help be surprised at the fact it could speak at all.
‘’Help me, and I’ll hug you in return! Please! It… It hurts so much!’’ It pleaded, and I sighed as I pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
…
I think I have to worry about wolves prowling around my cabin. Caught one in one of my beartraps, a freaky mutant abomination. A Werehugger, or a Hug-wolf. I couldn’t decide on its name yet. Strange creature, one that I plan on dissecting to learn more about it.
Of course, I brought its carcass home! I even pulled out the few bottles of bleach I had to get rid of the smell and prevent anyone from smelling it back to my cabin. Granted it might be useless, but at least the smell of a rotting carcass and of blood won’t attract anything. Or so I hoped.
Last thing I need is one of the freaks to develop an appetite to bleach of all things.
But anyway, the Werehugger. Or Hug-wolf… Hmmph… Both of those names really work well, bah whatever I’ll just use both interchangeably. It isn’t like I have to clarify things in my own journal! I know damn well what I mean, and that both mean the same thing. Focusing on the actual freaky mutant abomination I caught and killed…
Its hands were… Heart-shaped, alongside it’s… ‘’paws’’. I’ll need to sleep and dissect it properly tomorrow, so I’ll update you… Myself? On my findings. I’m quite curious to know how changed the skeletal structure of the Hug-Wolf is. I really hope the thing isn’t contagious. Last thing I need is to turn into a damned Hug-Wolf out of all things. But surely, they didn’t spread like Lycanthropy, right? I mean, as long as I avoided being ‘’bitten’’ by it I should be fine… I hope.
Note to self, wear gloves when dissecting Hug-Wolf.
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