The Pinterest Quest

River Diablo

ThatCrazyShipper69: NIPPLES

I rolled my eyes as I opened the attachment they'd sent of a pacifier. 

DisneyLover306: Shipper, that's a pacifier. 

Moreespressolessdepresso: SHIPPER WHAT THE HECK

ThatCrazyShipper69: still

DisneyLover306: NO "STILL"

ThatCrazyShipper69: YES "STILL"

DisneyLover306: THAT'S IT

DisneyLover306: I'M LEAVING

I exited the chat and scrolled through my Pintererest feed. Teasers about new Disney movies and Avengers 4 theories were scattered everywhere. 

My phone buzzed. I sighed and opened the chat. 

ThatCrazyShipper69: DISNEY

ThatCrazyShipper69: DISNEY I KNOW YOU'RE STILL ON

ThatCrazyShipper69: DISNEY I CAN SEE YOU SAVING PINS

DisneyLover306: Fine, you got me, I didn't leave at all. You've thwarted my evil plan.

ThatCrazyShipper69: Yay! I love thwarting evil plans!

Moreespressolessdepresso: This has been quite the chat to read through

ThatCrazyShipper69 sent me a pic of Loki's dead body from Infinity War. Angrily I searched through my headcanons to find one where Will Solace dies in Nico's arms. I was smiling evilly as I waited for Shipper's reply.

ThatCrazyShipper69: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Moreespressolessdepresso: DISNEY WHY

DisneyLover306: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

ThatCrazyShipper69: I HATE YOU

DisneyLover306: ;-)

Moreespressolessdepresso: I'M LEAVING YOU

ThatCrazyShipper69: Won't miss ya

DisneyLover306: BYE, ESPRESSO

Moreespressolessdepresso: BYE

I left the Pinterest tab and collapsed onto my couch, turning on Parking Wars. I always loved watching people getting all riled up, and denying and/or brushing off plain evidence that insisted that they were in the wrong. 

My phone buzzed again. It was a text from an unknown number that read "Did you get the homework done?" 

I texted back: "Who is this?" 

Unknown Number: Don't tell me you don't know me

Me: I don't have you in my contacts if I DO know you

Unknown Number: Oh, C'mon, Riv. This is Shirina Maraday! From school!

Shirina Maraday. I had a crush on her, and I had since fourth grade. Face red, I texted her back. 

Me: Oh, you. How did you get my number?

Shirina: Your friend Charlotte. 

I silently cursed Charlotte and made a mental note to tell her to NOT give out my number to my crush anytime in the future. 

Me: Oh, okay. Yeah, I got it done in class. 

Shirina: Cool. Did you get the answer key?

Me: There was an answer key?

Shirina: yeah. I'll send it to you...

Me: Okay, thanks

Shirina has sent a photo!

As I opened the attachment, the microwave beeped, declaring that it was done heating up the leftover macaroni and cheese from last night. 

Me: I'll check it out after dinner. Thanks again.

Shirina: No problem

I plugged the phone in and dumped the mac 'n' cheese into a bowl. I sat down just in time to see an older lady screaming and yelling at a man for booting and towing her car. 

"IT WAS YOUR FAULT!" I screamed at the TV. "YOU PARKED THERE! THE SIGN CLEARLY SAID NOT TO!" 

I angrily shoved a spoonful of noodles into my mouth. 

The lady went to the camera. "These people need to be nicer. It was an honest mistake," She claimed, "The sign should've been closer to the spot if they didn't want people parking there. They didn't need to be so rude." 

I threw a plastic cup at the TV. It bounced off the lady's face and rolled away on the floor. 

I shut off the TV and set the bowl down on the table. I went upstairs to the room at the end of the hall and locked the door behind me. 

Most people would expect psychopathic-type things from a room with a locked door. But I had much better things in mind than that. 

The room had white walls, splattered with rainbow dots and dashes of paint. There was a small, ball-shaped light on the ceiling. A desk was shoved into the corner and there was a paint-covered office chair next to it. There were smaller sketches and paintings resting in frames on the desk. 

Half-painted canvases leaned against the walls and hung on hooks. An unpainted outline of the back of a lady's head sat on a stand. Multiple mason jars filled with brightly colored paint sat on a rolly-cart next to it, dirtied paintbrushes next to it. A painting palate sat next to it. 

Hanging on the wall above the desk was a tiny paintbrush, about as long as my hand. Though I'd outgrown it years ago, it was the first brush I'd ever had, and still used it when I was blanking on ideas. 

I took the brush now, walking over to the lady's head. The brush worked its magic, the right combinations of colors for her red-gold hair coming to mind and flying across the canvas. Soon the entire image was done. 

I took it off the stand and laid it under the fan to dry. Once it had, I picked it up and took it to my room, placing it right above my bed. 

But it didn't look quite right. 

Instead of repositioning it I took it back to the room. the little brush did it again, dipping itself in the white and dark gray and giving the lady wings.