Prompt for @emptynarration
Tags: @caffeine-eater @authorsathenaeum @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @holyshitsnakesandspace @blue-greenstylinson @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337
Prompt 49: “Let’s have a baby.”
“How do humans do it?” Blue grumbled, thunking the book down onto table with a huff. “How can they say ‘let’s have a baby,’ and then just go and procreate?”
“The Host doesn’t believe it works that way,” the Host tilted his head, tapped his fingers against the table as he thought about it. “Statistically speaking-”
“I know the statistics.”
A smirk, and the Host was leaning forward on his elbows. “Then why is Blue asking?”
“Because it is ridiculous,” Blue scoffed. “The chances of successful procreation the instant the human couple in question decide that they would like an infant are hilariously low. This sorry excuse for literature does not illustrate how many attempts it would take for the human female to become impregnated.”
The Host chuckled, then reached across the table to take the book, smoothing down the pages. “The amount of intercourse required is not a major plot point. The child is what’s important here.”
“The plot is absurd and this book is badly written.”
The Host slid the book back across the table. “The Host requests that Blue continue reading.”
Blue sighed, the sound closer to that of a soft hum than an actual sigh. He took the book. “Of course, love.”
Tag: / It’s so great !!!
Two hearts and one core
Host is tired.
His wings and his back ache, his eyes bleed, his narrations force themselves forward rapidly and harshly. He’s tired and he wants to sleep. The day has been long, his latest project proving to be more difficult than he had originally intended. Numerous times he has requested Dark, Bim, and Wilford read over the script he is creating for it.
Though they insist he’s doing well, the Host’s craving for this project to turn out perfectly nags him into redoing and starting over more than he needs to.Now his brain hurts, his eyes ache, and he wants his bed.
He makes his way carefully to his room, avoiding any of the egos still up and about as though they’re some kind of plague. His wings stay drawn close to his sides despite the fact they just want to stretch.
When he finally approaches the door to his room, his safe haven, he wants to scream when he hears voices. It takes him much to long to realize just who those voices belong to, and the moment he does he relaxes with a soft sigh.
emptynarration 