Universe Corrupted

VII

The rubies gasped at him. They whispered amongst themselves. There was only a few, but they managed to, regardless.

Steven looked at them, confused, before realizing he was pink. He whistled. He looked up with a maniac smile and wide eyes. Heck yeah, he thought. He was grinning so widely, the rubies were scared.

His smile didn't last, though, after realizing the scenario his smile dropped into an angry glare. Steven charged at the rubies, who had enough time to fuse. They punched, he shielded it. They attempted to heave their balled fists into Steven, who made a geometrical perimeter around him. A bubble, but more dangerous, because he extended the bubble out to the rubies. It hit them, immediately unfusing them and sending them flying away. Thoughts rushed through his head faster than he realized.

Everything was going so... fast. But at the same time, the battle seemed so slow. He had no idea what was happening, but another section of his mind controlled the battle, that section laughed maniacally. He was going insane, and he was satisfied. Go on, his mind told him. You're only playing this game defensively. Stop blocking the attacks and make your own.

My only weapon is a shield. My powers are to block attacks. 10 page essay on how to make an attack, ASAP.

You don't have time for my 10 page essay, bubble your hands, boxing gloves.

He felt the urge to resist, but his body was moving for him. He bubbles his hands for a harder punch.

No! No! I don't make problems, I'm supposed to solve them.

But you're ignoring the problems right in front of you; your own. You fix their problems, who's fixing yours?

You told me not to be a burden yesterday.

You are flawed, but you hide it. Other gems are supposed to be the burden. They are your time. You are their solution. What's a solution with a problem? Another detour. Hide yourself, maybe someday you'll have time for yourself. With luck.

I don't have time to sit and wait for luck to find me. Because luck is chance. I'm not taking the risk of bad luck. I don't believe in luck, I believe in hard work. I'm gonna do it myself.

Huh.
Too bad you can't control your body.

Steven was laughing, insanely, and licked his hand, stamped it onto the warp, and activated it. He was at home, normally hued and safe.

*****

In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and sighed. He changed, but everything was the same. If not, worse. He was busy, he was rude, he was manipulated by no one other than his own self. He changed so his life could change, he was bored of the same Steven Universe. Like Pink.
Ugh.
Everything always traces back to a specific someone. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with Pink?

He pulled at his eyelids, and as he did so, for a split second, his fingers might have turned pink. He expected it to be a hallucination, but he knew better. But regardless, he remained in his state of constant denial. When would he have the gut to just face his problems, rather than hiding them? No one would know.

His eyelids twitched. He shook his head aggressively, trying to shake off whatever had gotten into him. His shoulders twitched. He felt a sharp pain, in each shoulder, and maybe even the top of his head. He closed his eyes and winced. He remained in the tight position for a good 10 seconds. He opened his eyes. His reflection changed. Horns peaking out of his fluffy hair. And on his shoulders through. They ripped through his expensive organic jacket his dad bought for him.

He fluffed his hair more. But he could still see the tip. He sighed. Maybe he could wear a hat? He never wore hats, that'd be extremely suspicious.

He stared in the mirror some more, knowing the more he stared at one spot, concentrated on the dilemma, maybe the answer would come to him. He could tell the gems that he wanted to change a bit, rather than being... well, Steven Universe. Oh, yeah, that guy.

They'd see through it.
Everyone knows Steven's incapable of lying for himself.

His bottom eyelid twitched more, leaving him to stare into the reflection of his eyes.
He gasped again.
God, he really hated this.

His thoughts were interrupted, as he felt another jolt of sharp pain through the small of his back. He straightened out, freezing in position.

Holy Pink, he needed to do something.

word count: 796

At night, I go through this Shakespeare mind, where when i write i write somethings like "hence" and "alas" and medieval, proper stuff like that. Why?
Dunno.