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[PERSPECTIVE]
[BIAS BECOMES CONCEPT]
[ - There is a point. A tipping point. One that occurs when adrenaline levels reach the point of overflow. You can only be so scared. You can only be so injured. At what point does that occur? At what point can a person be so terrified they no longer feel fear? How does it change them? At what point does a person no longer feel pain? What is the limit? How much can a person take?]
[- Sanity, Fear, Pain, Emotion...]
[- At what point is it a concept?]
[- And another reality?]
[- That is what I intend to find.]
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The evening was approaching rather quickly, Paper and OJ raised around the hotel to prepare it for dinner. Paper specifically tried his hardest to get dinner done before 6:30. It was everyone's preferred time to eat. And Paper didn't want to have to chase everyone downstairs from their activities they usually engaged in after this time. Paintbrush usually painted and watched movies with Lightbulb. Balloon often wrote to relax his nerves. Tissues was usually reading, until he fell asleep in the sick room. Et cetera.
Paper sighed to himself as he rummaged through pots and pans. He fired up the stove and turned, his body colliding with OJ's in an instant. He yelped and hit the ground, less with the thud, and more of a rustle. He grumbled and looked up to OJ's apologetic gaze. He laughed sheepishly.
"Sorry... I-uh... I forgot my phone! Over here... Urgh..." He groaned to himself, and held a hand out to Paper.
Paper's frowned deafened, and he took the taller man's hand. And rose to his feet, he blinked a appreciative smile to OJ, "No worries... I was also in a rush! Go ahead." He slipped his hand away and watched OJ nod thankfully.
OJ took his phone, and jogged off to the other room to take a call. Paper's eyes followed OJ as he ran through orange striped halls. Paper then turned his attention back to the pot on the stove. He began to boil the potatoes, sprinkling salt into the pot, dropping the potatoes in and putting the lid on the pot slightly ajar. He then grabbed the large chicken and put it in the roast pan, after which, the oven. He dusted his hands off and thought for a vegetable to cook. That's when someone tapped his shoulder. He jumped and whipped his head around.
Lightbulb adjusted her fluffed sweater with her opposite hand to the one which had remained stationary after tapping his shoulder. "Hiya my flat friend, Say, got any Crab-food? Baxter's gettin' hangry!" She chimed, winking and bringing out Baxter in an instant, sat on her palms.
Paper blinked, "There should be some in the uh... Pantry." He pointed to the side, a brown-orangish door with a white frame. He then flinched as the Crab snapped at him, and he leaned back away from it.
"Well! I better get on in there before the he ends the galaxy! And you. I guess." She shrugged, a goofy smile plastered on her face. Her giddy demeanour emphasized by her raised shoulders and toothy grin.
Paintbrush leaned against the doorframe, grumbling. "Lightbulb, let's go. Your drink is going to go flat sitting on the table not being drank." They reminded. Lightbulb turned her head back, and perked.
"Oh! Oops." She chuckled to herself. "Right! I'm on it! Start the dramatic music." She grinned, putting her crab atop her head and jogging into the pantry.
YOU ARE READING
SCIENCE BREAKTHROUGH
Fanfic[PERSPECTIVE] [BIAS BECOMES CONCEPT] [ - There is a point. A tipping point. One that occurs when adrenaline levels reach the point of overflow. You can only be so scared. You can only be so injured. At what point does that occur? At what point can a...
