P. Kirby > Recent Status Updates

But the angel and the rest of the world melts away.

"Because torture and delirium let me see the real him, his angel side." *Swoons* Not.

Well. There's a story for the grandkids! "Hey, honey, remember when I shot you full of arrows, and then dragged you behind my horse until your arm came off? Good times, good times!"

At first his horse moves slow...Slowly the steed begins to pick up speed, until his trot becomes a canter and then his canter eventually becomes a gallop. I keep up for a while.

NOPE! The average (roughly) speed of a fit runner is about 15mph. That drops over longer distances. The average pace of a galloping horse: 25-30mph. Miss Thing is seriously wounded and starving. Physically impossible.

Blood, my mind puts together. You're bleeding because there's an arrowhead embedded in your back.

It's Cupid of the Apocalypse! Nothing says, "I love you," like a ruptured kidney!

I hesitate. I could stay with Pestilence; he's not trying to kill me after all. Nah. Just wants to administer a soupcon of torture. He's totes awesome! And abs. My god, those abs!

My reasons make no difference to him; they don't change the fact that I shot and burned him. That I didn't listen when he begged me to stop. He begged? Well, then, yeah, you're totally a villain. NOT!
Were it me, I would've first chopped him into firewood-sized pieces and then roasted s'mores on the fire. Course...then we wouldn't have fodder for apocalyptical wank fiction.

Too impractical, my Dad told me. What are you going to use a degree for anyway? So Mom's contribution to your upbringing in crustless sandwiches and Dad's? Dad denied you an education. Not wonder you're so stupid.

This is so epically twisted. Yes. Yes it is.

He's like the most aggressive form of my already most hated male combo: the hot asshole. The all-improved Hot Asshole, now in habanero flavor!

Honestly, this guy is insufferable--even if he is annoyingly handsome. My new career goal is to be a supervillain and be described as "annoyingly beautiful."

I let out a whimper. Even his touch hurts. I close my eyes and lay a weary cheek against the golden armor of his chest as he carries me tothe house's stoop. *Snort* Time for the obligatory snuggling-with-the-evil-genocidal-maniac moment, because murder is hawt.

Unlike household electricity, running water was hit far less severely.
Domestic wells, used in rural areas, usually run on electricity. Most modern municipal water systems rely on electric controls. Ditto sewer systems. Short power outages don't usually effect water access, but long term, yes.

What's wrong with me?
You want the top ten, or the whole list?

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the lump of smoldering flesh I walked away from last night has somehow regenerated. And it talks. I'm trying to get my mind around the magnitude of your stupidity. Magical dude rides around the planet dispersing disease and your surprised that he insta-heals?

Someone else has already...tried? Holy shit, woman, you are stoopid! So stupid that if I could reach into the book, I'd take you to the vet and have you spayed. Also, your fire buddies who went along with this plan should be neutered.

The fact that she can injure, much less burn Mr. Apocalypse is stretching plausibility like Elastigirl. There'd better be an explanation for this.

The steed's front legs kick up, its body briefly contorting as it lets out an agonized bray. It collapses onto its side a hundred feet from its master, and then it doesn't move. Again with "steed," oy. Also, how do front legs "kick up"? Hint: Horses, they don't work that way. Neither do shotguns. If she really has "shit for aim," hitting a large, rapidly moving animal lethally is fucking unlikely.

Who actually says "steed" anyway? At least in a non-ironic way. I call my horse Professor Snotty Pants. But steed? Nope.

He's sheathed in golden armor and mounted on a white steed. At his back is a bow and quiver. His blond hair is pressed down by a crown of gold and his face--his face is angelic, proud.

It's Legolas! Or better still, The Hobbit's Thranduil, because Lee Pace is hawt, hawt, hawt!

I have shit aim in broad daylight; at night I'm likelier to shoot myself than I am him.

I'm am blinded, blinded, I tell you, by the stupidity. Are all firefighters this stupid? Her great plan to end the literal embodiment of pestilence is to shoot him with a shotgun. Wow!

...the T.V. decide that today is the day it stops working.
Ugh, two pages ago, you said that technology never recovered. Television is technology so world build fail.

My mom, who used to cut the crusts of my sandwiches when I was little... Fer reals? That's your most cherished memory of your mom? Pathetic.
Mine would be: despite being dead broke, my mom scraped up the money for horse riding lessons. Or how she helped me with my science projects. Or instilled a love of reading by reading The Hobbit to me as a young child.

I level my hazel eyes on the tiny wooden sticks in Luke's fist.
And...already I'm annoyed. :D This is not how you convey character description in first person narrative. Who thinks, "I opened my [insert color] eyes on the bright Sunday morning?" Ugh. Just go for the old mirror trick, sweetie. It's trite but not stupid.

Picked this up at Albuquerque Comic Con this year. Looks cute.

Whaaat? It was free. I'm hoping this will be bad...entertainingly bad.

Man, if I caused an earthquake every time I stubbed my toe, Albuquerque would be a wasteland. *Eyes latest purple toe.*

Perfect boy is too perfect. He's so gonna turn out to be the villain.

Loki = Hipster Viking. *Snort*

Yep. Still reading this, but in a fractured manner, usually for a few minutes before I fall asleep, in bed. Though the story is lacking that sumthin' sumthin' that really grabs the reader, it's original and interesting enough to read a in less-than-optimal way.

Wolverine! *Swoons.*