delusionsaffably_andyDecember 29 2011, 19:46:48 UTC
aka wtf am I doing
this was done in like five minutes. hope you don't hate this, OP.
Having a toy talk to you means you’re probably a little crazy.
Having a toy talk about how much it hates you as it claws you with entirely ineffective limbs means you’re probably very crazy.
Andy doesn’t think he’s crazy, or has self-esteem issues, but he doubts the teddy bear he happened to pick up on his way from college to home for the break is actually alive.
He doesn’t think he’s going to do anything like attack someone or hurt himself, though. Maybe he’s not as worried as he probably should be, but the season’s been stressful and it’s not that surprising that he’s snapped a bit.
Either it’ll stop as soon as he’s in the more relaxed environment of home, or he’d just get it checked out, get a few pills to make it stop. He doesn’t really want to need treatment, but he knows it’s that or deal with something that might get worse.
Either way, right now the car’s broke down on a deserted back road in the middle of a snowstorm. (With a pink fluffy figment of his imagination attacking his arm.) There’s not much in the way of mental health treatment available out here.
“You should stop,” he suggested mildly. “You look pretty-” terrible, but there’s no need to be nasty to anyone, even your own subconscious, even if it hates you “-roughed up.”
It pauses and looks up at him, and the plastic eyes fade from their original fury to complete confusion. “You’re…you’re not-” it starts, then stops.
In the back of his mind, Andy wonders if it’s possible for delusions to be delusional.
He picks it-now unmistakably a he, with that voice-up and tugs him to his chest. He starts clawing and biting again, but he’s too weak to keep it up for long.
The silence stretches on, but when Andy looks down the toy is still there, alive. He’s looking around the car like he’s never seen anything like it before.
Eventually, he ventures out and asks “So, who are you, and why are you here?” He might get a meaningful answer, he might not. Regardless, it might be interesting.
He gets another confused stare for that, but then it mumbles “Lotso.” Then, “And you ain’t really here.”
“Really?” And he knows he sounds way too amused, but there’s something funny about your own subconscious telling you that you’re not there. (Unless this ‘Lotso’ isn’t from there-why would he dream up a pink teddy bear with a southern accent?)
Another long silence. “No.” Nonetheless, filthy fuzzy arms tentatively wrap around the arm they’d been trying to maul. “But…you’re better than the truck.”
Andy nearly asks what ‘the truck’ is, but he’s interrupted before he can.
“Please, please don’t make me wake up for a while,” the bear begs, sudennly sounding panicked.
He has no idea what that means, but… “Alright, I won’t.”
“Promise?” Lotso asks in a tiny, pathetic voice, curling up closer to his chest.
“Yeah.” Andy wraps his arms around the trembling bear. “Yeah, I promise.”
this was done in like five minutes. hope you don't hate this, OP.
Having a toy talk to you means you’re probably a little crazy.
Having a toy talk about how much it hates you as it claws you with entirely ineffective limbs means you’re probably very crazy.
Andy doesn’t think he’s crazy, or has self-esteem issues, but he doubts the teddy bear he happened to pick up on his way from college to home for the break is actually alive.
He doesn’t think he’s going to do anything like attack someone or hurt himself, though. Maybe he’s not as worried as he probably should be, but the season’s been stressful and it’s not that surprising that he’s snapped a bit.
Either it’ll stop as soon as he’s in the more relaxed environment of home, or he’d just get it checked out, get a few pills to make it stop. He doesn’t really want to need treatment, but he knows it’s that or deal with something that might get worse.
Either way, right now the car’s broke down on a deserted back road in the middle of a snowstorm. (With a pink fluffy figment of his imagination attacking his arm.) There’s not much in the way of mental health treatment available out here.
“You should stop,” he suggested mildly. “You look pretty-” terrible, but there’s no need to be nasty to anyone, even your own subconscious, even if it hates you “-roughed up.”
It pauses and looks up at him, and the plastic eyes fade from their original fury to complete confusion. “You’re…you’re not-” it starts, then stops.
In the back of his mind, Andy wonders if it’s possible for delusions to be delusional.
He picks it-now unmistakably a he, with that voice-up and tugs him to his chest. He starts clawing and biting again, but he’s too weak to keep it up for long.
The silence stretches on, but when Andy looks down the toy is still there, alive. He’s looking around the car like he’s never seen anything like it before.
Eventually, he ventures out and asks “So, who are you, and why are you here?” He might get a meaningful answer, he might not. Regardless, it might be interesting.
He gets another confused stare for that, but then it mumbles “Lotso.” Then, “And you ain’t really here.”
“Really?” And he knows he sounds way too amused, but there’s something funny about your own subconscious telling you that you’re not there. (Unless this ‘Lotso’ isn’t from there-why would he dream up a pink teddy bear with a southern accent?)
Another long silence. “No.” Nonetheless, filthy fuzzy arms tentatively wrap around the arm they’d been trying to maul. “But…you’re better than the truck.”
Andy nearly asks what ‘the truck’ is, but he’s interrupted before he can.
“Please, please don’t make me wake up for a while,” the bear begs, sudennly sounding panicked.
He has no idea what that means, but… “Alright, I won’t.”
“Promise?” Lotso asks in a tiny, pathetic voice, curling up closer to his chest.
“Yeah.” Andy wraps his arms around the trembling bear. “Yeah, I promise.”
Reply
Leave a comment