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[panspermia]

DISPLAYING SUBJECT: GREG UNIVERSE Label: VIRGO ENTERTAINMENT Band: DEFYING ATMOSPHERE Instrument: LEAD/RHYTHM GUITAR Fame Lvl: 4 - Empathic Influence, Mental Manipulation, Reality Bending, Beginner Sorcery  Current MP: 33 (138 total) Short Description: ► With a wild mane and a passion for ripped clothes, Mr. Universe loves nothing more than the music. He may like to party, but the rock star lifestyle is more about the rock for him. His genuine passion for the craft passes on to a clear respect for his fans. Regains So Far: ★OCTOBER★ ► MEMORY  1: Discussing with his unknown child how he met his mother. What is this, like, a vision of the future??? ► MEMORY  2: A beautiful, huge, pink woman encourages him to speak into the old video camera. They're recording a message for their child. ★NOVEMBER★ ► MEMORY  3: The huge pink woman dances with another woman to his performance. With a glowing light, the two of them combine into a huge, four-eyed dancer. ► MEMORY  4: A colossal red eye lights the sky, before a laser beam in the shape of the pink woman destroys it. Debris crashes around him; if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn't have hot dogs. ► MEMORY  5: A writhing, shifting mass of catlike tumors struggles to walk through a car wash. He watches, desperately hoping what's underneath survives. ► MEMORY  6: He peeks through the door to find the walls covered in frost. A small, blue woman sits on a frozen bed, and though he can't see her eye, he knows she's looking at him. "He's not going to like that it's square." This is sorta inconvenient. ► MEMORY  7: He filters an alien static through his sound system, trying to decipher its message, but his van gives out first. ★DECEMBER★ ► MEMORY 8: Garnet thanks him with a handshake. It feels like he's won an award.  ► MEMORY 9: Steven and a young girl burst through a portal of light on the back of a bright pink lion. Greg would run to embrace them, if not for the pain in his leg and the solid chunks of ocean crashing down around them. ► MEMORY 10: He watches, like a ghost, as war ravages the world around him. It's a battle for him, for everyone like him, older and more vast than he can comprehend. He's so small. ► MEMORY 11: The pink woman stares at him, utterly lost. This was supposed to bring them closer. It still can, he thinks. They just need to communicate. ►MEMORY 12: A small, purple woman taunts him by transforming into the shape of the pink woman. She says it's his fault she's not here. He knows she's right. ★JANUARY★ ►MEMORY 13: He's going to get to sleep on a couch?! He cannot believe his luck. ►MEMORY 14: It's already hard enough setting up the camera without the toddler squirming in his arms. They have to get at least one good picture of the cake before it gets demolished. ►MEMORY 15: He takes a regal bow to his king, the indisputable ruler of watermelons. They break down into uncontrollable giggles. ►MEMORY 16: He closes the book, and smiles at his sleeping son. He casts one last anxious, uncertain look at the trio in the living room, before leaving. ★FEBRUARY★ ►MEMORY 17: He cannot afford the hospital. Duct tape's like a cast, right? Totally. Good enough. ►MEMORY 18: The pink woman calls plant life to come to life around her, obeying her whims. ►MEMORY 19: Cripes Steven has a LOT of powers. ►MEMORY 20: One little lie can't hurt. It means they'll get to be together again. This will all be worth it in the end. Contact Player: ► yunisverse ► PM - unij ► AIM - UniverseJuice IC CONTACT ► PHONE: 1-555-678-3773 ► TEXT: 1-555-678-3773 ► EMAIL: mruniverse@virgoentertainment.vgo ► TWITTER: @universeonearth ► FACEBOOK: Mr. Greg Universe ► TUMBLR: 5yearmission.tumblr.com (not public knowledge it belongs to him; entirely reblogs of cool space photosets)

Comments

[panspermia]

[ Her aggravation only makes him shrink further. ]

There's gotta be something else he can use me for.

[interstellarnpcs]

Like what, smart guy?

[Her eyes are narrowed.]

[panspermia]

[ He shrugs, feeling incredibly small as he avoids her gaze. ]

C-come on. It's a big company full of all sorts of shady stuff. You're telling me this is all we're good for?

[interstellarnpcs]

Gee, is a magical musician only good for making magic music? You tell me.

[She rolls her eyes.]

The entire basis of this is a battle of will - either you against reality, or you against someone else. If their will overpowers yours, your shit is sunk. If they take over the song they own you, no matter who starts it.

[panspermia]

[ He didn't sign up for this, he thinks. But he knows he did. He wanted to make sure it wouldn't be like this, it's what he was afraid of from the first moment he was aware of this power. In the end, he doesn't have a choice.

Greg doesn't look at Anansi, but he can imagine how she's looking at him. He must look at least as stupid as he feels.]

[interstellarnpcs]

[Anansi exhales in just barely restrained patience. After a few moments, she stands.]

Get up.

[panspermia]

[ Greg flinches, the sigh communicating plenty well what she thinks of him. He gets up. ]

[interstellarnpcs]

If you're not going to cooperate with me...then we're going to do it the way where I kick the shit out of you until you stop me.

[panspermia]

[ Well, on the plus side, that gets him to look at her again. ]

Uh?

[interstellarnpcs]

[Too late, Greg. Anansi takes a couple of steps back, turns her back to him, and then raises her arms elegantly. With a click of her fingers, music fades in out of nowhere - an R&B adaption of this. She kicks her feet off the hardwood in a series of introductory steps, and then with a flourish she is suddenly wearing a pair of high style cowboy boots that she definitely wasn't a moment ago.

This doesn't shake her at all. She advances on him, beginning to sing in low, sultry tones. He'll find himself frozen - unable to move in any way that doesn't match her whim.]

They keep saying you've got something for me...
A job that I don't love, but I digress.
You've been a-messin' where you shouldn'ta been a-messin'...
And now someone else is gettin' all your best.

[She's staring at him expectantly, at if waiting to see what he does in response - she also looks totally willing to go through with her threat.]

[panspermia]

[ Oh.

Ohhhhhh boy.

He missed out on the disaster at Naomi's party. He's never felt what this is like, not directly. He's meant to fend her off, sure, but he can't begin to figure out how while the music is thrumming through them. The beat takes over, drowning out thought, vibrating through his heart.

Greg stares back, panic dulled by that catchy melody, prey helpless in the trap. ]

[interstellarnpcs]

[The look in her eyes shows some of her dissatisfaction. What a dope. She can hardly feel any kind of resistance in him at all.

She shuffle steps towards him, and then back, back and forth while compelling him to follow in her pattern, like some kind of angry square dance.]

These boots are made for walkin',
And that's just what they'll do.

[She plants her heel into his sternum, pushing back against his now frozen body.]

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

[She kicks him onto his back.]

[panspermia]

[ Unable to even move to break his fall, Greg hits the ground hard. His breath completely knocked out of him, the shock's enough to break his mind loose of the melody, just a little. What did she say he's supposed to do? Take over the song? Does that mean he needs to sing along, or go at it with one of his own to drown her out?

All the while his thoughts struggle along, slowed and dazed, and she's still got him at her mercy.]

[interstellarnpcs]

[She strides past him, stepping over his fallen body, not once missing the beat. She pulls another dance move once she's on the other side, and then spins to face him again.

You keep laying when you oughta be standin'
And you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.

[He's compelled stand up now, regardless of how winded he feels, like his body is being pulled up with strings. She comes forward to jab him in the chest with a finger, right in time with the music.]

You keep samin' when you oughta be a-changin'...
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.

[panspermia]

[ Even his little wheeze as he gets up fits the rhythm. He can't break it--he doesn't want to. You can't just go intettupting someone's performance, after all. So--so then--he needs to...? Already it feels like his heaf is liableto burst from the effort of thinking. All he can tell for sure is he's supposed to be doing something, instead of nothing. ]

[interstellarnpcs]

[For just a moment, it seems like she's watching him for a reaction. Where then isn't one, she immediately goes in for a theatrical spin kick, knocking him over sideways.]

These boots are made for walkin'...

[And he feels compelled to get up again at nearly the same moment he lands - except she's already there, to kick him in the gut to the rhythm. ]

And that's just what they'll do.

[The kick sends him rolling - but before he can get away, she's already there - roughly planting her heel on his prone chest. She glares down at him impatiently.]

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

[panspermia]

[ Now, this may come as a shock to Anansi, but Greg is not actually someone who gets in fights too often. Or ever, in fact. When someone unaccustomed to pain ends up in a scrap like this, the pain tends to overwhelm any ability to plan. Not with the lack of breathing room she's giving him, at any rate.

It's going to take a lot to pound him into shape. ]

[interstellarnpcs]

You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin'...
And you keep hopin' that you'll never get burned, ha!

[She presses her toe into his cheek and then lightly kicks his face to the side. 'Lightly' in terms of boots and faces is still pretty unpleasant, though. Then she steps on his chest to walk over him again, whipping out a lit match from nowhere as well as producing a cigarette.

It's clear that, if she wanted, she could make this so much worse.]

I just found me a brand new box of matches, yeah-
And what we know, you ain't had time to learn.

[She lights the cigarette and takes a dragon, walking away from him.]

These boots are made for walkin'...
And that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

[She turns to look at him, pointing a finger.]

Start walkin'.

[The music ends. Anansi sits down again as casually as can be, as if none of that beating just occurred, while smoking her new cigarette. Greg, unfortunately, will still be very much feeling the entire thing.]

[panspermia]

[ He can feel the hold on him lift, mostly due to finally getting to act on his desire to curl into a protective ball--too little too late. Greg whimpers, wanting nothing but to go home. Everything hurts, bruises already blooming where her boots struck.

For how miserable he is in this moment, her message comes across clear; she's holding back. ]

[interstellarnpcs]

[For a while, Anansi will just sit quietly and let him cry it out, or whatever he wants to do. She's waiting to see if he will come to her, after that, or if he's just going to continue moping and doing nothing.

She prepared to wait for a while, but will cut in if he's laying around whimpering gets truly excessive.]

[panspermia]

[ It takes a little while, but eventually the whimpering slows as he gets himself under control. She's waiting on him. He can't lie around being completely pathetic forever, as nice as it may sound.

Slowly, tenderly, Greg gets himself upright. ]

[interstellarnpcs]

Do you understand why you have to learn this, now?

[She looks up at him through locks of green highlights, the remains of a cigarette sitting idly in her hand.]

If this had been a serious situation, I woulda killed you. Or worse.

[panspermia]

[ It's a hard pill to swallow. Even now, he doesn't want to face the facts: If he can't do this, he'll be helpless to protect anyone. He can practice the rest all he wants, but what he needs is to know how to stop that from happening to anyone else.

Wordless and unable to look at her, Greg nods. ]