Worm Snippets Written in Boredom

[Versatility]

There's a book on my bed.

While not normally a cause for concern, it is now because I don't remember putting it there. It's not like I really have the time to read, and if I did, I certainly wouldn't place it on the edge of my bed. Nor would I pick up a book titled "Death Note".

Narrowing my eyes, I backed out of the doorway slightly and sent a wave of spiders and moths to analyze the book. I wasn't entering my room until I was sure there were no traps, pranks, or god knows what else. With the Slaughterhouse Nine in town, I had no intention of touching something that doesn't belong to me without thoroughly inspecting it first.

Surprisingly, there were no strings attached to the book. It didn't even explode when I had a couple of my spiders sit on it for a couple of seconds. So, this was doubly weird.

I looked around my room, sending even more bugs to double check the entirety of the room. Just because the book was "safe" didn't mean the rest of my room was. There could be something lying in wait for when I had my guard down, ready to shoot at me when I wasn't paying attention.

Maybe a little far fetched, but I wasn't taking any chances. Every time I failed to take into account the absurd, it blew up right in my face.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for my nerves, my bugs found nothing. My room was the same sans the book sitting innocently on my bed. If everything appeared safe, that begged the question of who entered my safehouse, placed the book on my bed, and merely walked out without doing anything else.

Could it have been one of the Slaughterhouse Nine? I wasn't sure, as the little stunt with Mannequin seemed more like their style. But then again, this could be Jack Slash or Bonesaw messing with me. I would go to pick up the book, only to contract some horrific disease or plague meant to knock me out of commission.

Just because my bugs didn't die upon making contact with it didn't mean anything. Knowing Bonesaw, she definitely knew how to make a deadly plague for humans do nothing to bugs.

So, here I was, contemplating what to do with the book. The smart thing to do would be to call Lisa and see if she could glean anything from the book. The next best thing to do was have Charlotte and Sierra vacate the premises and put everyone on alert.

Should I do that?

Yes.

Do I?

I took a step into the room. When the floor didn't explode underneath my feet, I took another step. The floor still remained intact, so I took another step, and another, until I stood a couple of inches away from the edge of my bed, staring warily at the thin black book with the spindly letters.

This was stupid. I was stupid.

I touched the book and yanked my hand away. The room remained silent and the book still sat there innocently, showing no reaction to having been touched. My body felt fine; I wasn't heating up, I wasn't dying of a coughing fit, and I wasn't bubbling into magma—I was completely and utterly fine.

I shouldn't touch the book again.

I picked it up and held it. Two seconds. I threw the velvety book back onto my bed and backed up a step. Again, everything remained the same. I was fine, I wasn't dying, and I wasn't falling into mass hysteria.

I should call Lisa.

Walking around the edge of my bed, I grabbed the book again. I opened it to the first page and dropped the book on the floor along with my jaw. Staring down at the book—still open—I debated passing out. Because, really, what kind of elaborate joke was this?

DEATH NOTE
HOW to use it
I​

• The entities whose name is written in this note shall die.
• This note will not take effect unless the writer has the subject's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
• If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the subject's name, it will happen.
• If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack.
• After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds (400 seconds).

—

I didn't call Lisa.

Instead, I sat on my bed, Death Note and pen in hand, wondering if I'd gone insane. I could still control bugs and I could still use the five senses, so I was probably still alive. But still. This was a cruel joke. Laughable, really.

Why did this stuff always happen to me?

I clenched my black pen. Would writing someone's name in here really kill them? Sure, the book's "how to use" guide said it would, but that didn't mean it was true.

I pursed my lips.

The image of Leviathan, scourge of Brockton Bay and killer of loads of capes, entered my mind. There was no redeeming a monster like that, right?

I wrote Leviathan in the book.

Cause of death?

Drop fucking dead.

—

A snack was what I needed after that. An apple, deliciously juicy and ripe, was a wonderful distraction. Seriously, how insane did I have to be to believe a book that randomly appeared on my bed, titled "Death Note", would actually kill someone?

Absurd. Absolutely ridiculous.

My phone rang.

Taking another bite out of my apple, I grabbed my phone out of my pocket, observed the caller ID as Tattletale, and answered the phone.

"Did you see the news?"

I blinked.

"No? Did something happen?"

"Did something happen? Did something happen!? Taylor, Leviathan, fucking Leviathan, just dropped dead in the middle of the ocean!"

My apple slipped out of my hand, falling to the floor with a little plunk. There was no way. Absolutely no way.

"There's no way."

"It's true. Don't know how it happened, but it's true."

I think I needed to go take a nap.

Leviathan was dead. Just dropped dead.

Exactly like I wrote in the Death Note.

Ignoring my fallen apple, I sprinted to my room and slammed the door shut.

"Taylor? Are you alright? I heard a door slamming."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was just me."

I walked over to my bed and jumped onto the mattress, whisking the pen off the Death Note and clicking it.

"Alright, if you say so."

Amidst the numbness and the disbelief was wonder. If this worked on Leviathan… Why couldn't it work on others, too?

I scribbled Behemoth into the book next. Cause of death: implodes on himself.

Lastly, the Simurgh. Cause of death: brain shuts down and heart explodes.

"Lisa?"

"Yeah?"

I smiled. "Keep your eyes on the news."

—

Lisa burst into my safehouse and downright tackled me to the floor. A slight pout rested on her face as she shouted, "How did you know!?"

I groaned slightly, and Lisa apologetically dragged herself off of me. After brushing myself off and shaking my head to confirm I was fine, I smiled and grabbed Lisa's wrist, pulling her into my room. I shut the door behind the both of us and made sure the blinds were closed before turning to my friend.

"You can't tell anyone."

She blinked. A small grin formed on her face.

"Yes, I know your name's Tattletale, and it was a stupid thing to say. Still, don't tell anyone."

"Spoilsport."

Lisa leaned against the wall as I walked over to my dresser.

"So, what can't I tell anyone?"

I carefully opened the bottom drawer of my nightstand and pulled the Death Note out of its cover. I turned around and walked over to Lisa, handing the book over to her.

"This."

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, probably using her power, and took the book. She inspected it, snickering slightly at the book's name before opening it. Her snicker disappeared as she read the book's contents.

"Taylor… Where the hell did you get this?"

I shrugged.

"You have no idea, got it." Lisa sighed, shutting the book before smiling brightly. "The things we can do with this!"

I nodded. "I don't really like the idea of killing people, but if they're irredeemable…"

"The Slaughterhouse Nine."

"Exactly."

Lisa nodded resolutely, handing the Death Note back to me.

"Regent?"

"Regent."

The phone rang for a moment before he picked up, yawning.

"What do you want?"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "If we had a way to kill Cherish, would you do it?"

The line was silent.

"Where are you?"

"Taylor's safehouse."

"I'll be there."

He hung up, leaving the phone beeping in the silence. Lisa made eye contact with me, and we both smiled at the same time.

—

"All I have to do is write her name down in that book?" Regent asked, pointing at the Death Note I was holding.

I nodded. "Yeah. I did it with the Endbringers, and look where they are."

Regent whistled. "This is a major cheat code."

"Which is why we'll be using it sparingly," Lisa said, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes, pushing the book in Regent's direction. "Well, here's your chance. If you want it, take it."

He eyed the book and snatched both it and the pen in the same second. Plopping down onto the floor, he kept the book open as he stared at the ceiling, mulling over what he should write down. I was a bit nervous about what Regent would come up with, but this was his sister. His family was complicated, so I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt this time.

Regent scribbled something down into the book and turned it around so we could see once he was done. It was hard to read his chicken scratch, but I think it was:

Cherie Vasil. Cause of death: brain cancer.

Lisa grinned. "How long do you think the Slaughterhouse Nine will be able to keep this hidden?"

"They'll definitely say they did it," I said, grabbing the Death Note and gesturing for the pen. Once Regent handed it to me, I began scribbling another name on the lines. "But that doesn't mean we have to stop."

Alan Gramme. Cause of death: Drop dead.

"Cold, so cold," Regent said, shaking his head. "I'm liking this side of you."

I glowered at him as Lisa laughed. She took the Death Note from me while trying to smother her giggles, writing another name on the line elegantly.

"This is the last one we know."

Ned (Crawler). Cause of death: decay.

I frowned. "You think you'll be able to find the rest of their names?"

"Of course I will! Who do you think you're talking to!?"

I laughed as Lisa muttered under her breath and Regent shook his head in exasperation at us. It was weird how this was how I spent time hanging out with Regent, but there was nothing to be done about that. I doubted I could've spent time with him otherwise.

Well, now to wait for Lisa to work her magic.

—

"You guys are insane," Brian said as they all watched the TV broadcast.

The reporter on screen was currently frantically depicting how each member of the Slaughterhouse Nine had died. The only death unconfirmed was the Crawler, and that could be attributed to the fact how Lisa wrote down "decay" as his cause of death. So, at least we knew he was dead for sure.

"We were just doing what's good for the world," Lisa replied, shrugging her shoulders with a smile.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

"At least we don't have to deal with them anymore," I added, shivering slightly. "Or have to worry about the world ending."

Aisha cheered. "Fuck yeah!"

I paused, reprocessing what I said. We didn't have to worry about the end of the world anymore. How did we know the world was going to end?

Dinah.

"Taylor? Earth to Taylor?"

Lisa waved a hand in front of my face, and I blinked.

"Oh, good. She's back with us. You alright?"

I opened my mouth to respond, and closed it. Instead of feeling the waves of guilt and worry I normally felt upon thinking about Dinah and Coil, I grinned.

"Coil."

Everyone looked at me like I was crazy—which I probably was—except for Lisa, who merely crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow in expectation.

"Coil's next."

This was probably a bad idea, but when had I ever suggested good ideas? Besides, with the Death Note sitting on my lap and the news broadcaster trying and failing to answer questions, I figured we would be fine.

Probably.

 

[Normal_Whale]

The power of the death note is addictive. You feel powerful, you feel like the world's fate is in your pen. I don't think Taylor Hebert, a girl that would kill children if she believes is the best, should have the death note. Lisa even less.
Rachel is one person I could trust it with. Just because I don't think she knows how to write.

 

[Elerathe]

girl that would kill children if she believes is the best

Click to shrink...

I really dislike when this is brought up. It's been discussed to death in so many threads. Please don't consider it a mic drop or an affirmation of your argument; just, choose any other of the wildly stupid things Taylor did on her slippery slope for your case.

As for the addictive nature of Death Note and Taylor wielding it? Well, there's better people who could use it, for sure. Yet in the world of Worm and Earth Bet, Taylor is by no means the worst. Having someone with their youthful naivete and hope balanced by their cynicism, who still wanted heroes to be real? Well, Bet would turn out better than it did, that is for sure.

 

[Normal_Whale]

I really dislike when this is brought up. It's been discussed to death in so many threads. Please don't consider it a mic drop or an affirmation of your argument; just, choose any other of the wildly stupid things Taylor did on her slippery slope for your case.

As for the addictive nature of Death Note and Taylor wielding it? Well, there's better people who could use it, for sure. Yet in the world of Worm and Earth Bet, Taylor is by no means the worst. Having someone with their youthful naivete and hope balanced by their cynicism, who still wanted heroes to be real? Well, Bet would turn out better than it did, that is for sure.

Click to shrink...

I mean sure! Earth Bet would turn out better with the death note. I was saying that I wouldn't trust the death note to Taylor or any other of the Undersiders, at least for safe keeping. But if any of the Undersiders had to get it? I would chose Rachel.

 

[Kylia Quilor]

But if any of the Undersiders had to get it? I would chose Rachel.

Click to shrink...

The girl who can't write? Great plan.

Also, no one can be trusted with the Death Note. That's sort of the whole point. Light might have already been primed to pull a 'a god am I' but anyone with that sort of power would probably go nuts.

 

[Versatility]

Every single day I wonder how I got to where I currently am, sitting on a rooftop covered in glitter, watching the horrifyingly ferocious leader of the ABB stumble back and forth, screaming like a madman and clutching his face with glitter all over his face. If asked to pinpoint when I think everything started, I'd say it began when Emma and her band of misfit hooligans decided to lock me in a storage closet with an assortment of glitter bombs.

With glitter all over my hair, limbs, and eyes, I wanted nothing more for the irritatingly itchy sensation to disappear. Lo and behold, my skin started glowing like a bomb and exploded in a cacophony of even more glitter that left tons of the stuff residing on the floor and sticking to every surface of the closet.

Even now, snickering at Lung's currently indisposed state, I think my power is stupid. The ability to explode like a glitter bomb instantaneously and exponentially? Really? What kind of cruel joke was the universe trying to say about my trigger event? Sure, it was mortifying and stupid, but my power didn't need to be just as, if not more so, stupid than my trigger event itself.

At this point, I can't help but believe the world is a joke and my life is the punchline.

"Someone gut that bitch!"

Oh, right. I was still on the rooftop, glitter personified, fighting Lung and his degenerate members of the ABB. Why was I even here again? Right, I decided becoming a hero with this bum power was a spectacular idea.

Go me.

With wild abandon and a demonic scream, I threw myself off the rooftop, igniting my power on the way down, exploding in a cacophony of glitter right in the middle of the misshapen shape of the mob. Now, you may think, "Taylor, how stupid do you have to be to do something like that when your power is a walking prank?" And you'd be right—if my power obeyed the laws of physics.

Instead, upon exploding, every single member of the ABB is slammed into surrounding buildings, more glitter than human. The aftershocks of the explosion come with even more glitter, which also explodes on its own when coming into contact with the glitter on the ABB's bodies. So, in a magnificent cluster bomb, all the gang members are knocked out—and through sheer power fuckery not smeared onto the pavement—covered in colorful dust.

Lung takes this moment to do his own explosion—maybe we could've been exploding buddies in another life!—transforming into a living and breathing fireball. I somehow don't realize until this moment how supremely out of my depth I am. Me, glitter bomb girl, going up against Lung, a perpetuous gangster dragon masquerading as a human, who spent his free time terrorizing kids and his own gang members.

It's stupid, really.

Idiotic, even.

Maybe I should just explode myself until I get home.

"I'm going to murder you, glitter fuck!"

Okay, no exploding home. Got it.

Now to figure out what the hell I should do. Lung's body mass and height was already growing to the point I feared I would be stepped on like a bug if he came anywhere near me. So, stupidly, I did the first thing that came to mind: I ignored my sense of self preservation and threw myself at Lung's legs like a dying missile and prayed I wouldn't be flayed to dust in a blaze of "glory."

Instead of one explosion, I repeatedly forced my body to ignite one second after another, continuously setting off glitter bombs that were followed by their own shockwaves and explosions. It was a beautiful show of fireworks, one I believed might actually rupture my eardrums.

Somehow, thankfully, the repeated force and blowback of the explosions pushed Lung backward, knocking him onto his rear end. Like a demon possessed, I lunged at his face and clasped my hands around his head, still exploding glitter minutely as I transferred some of the power and focus into my hands. The only reason I wasn't a roasted marshmallow—I figured, anyway—was my attunement to the explosions of my power. How the logistics actually worked and functioned escaped me, but I wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Especially since it contributed to why my idiotic self was still alive right now.

More annoying than my lack of foresight, however, was Lung's obnoxious screaming. I wanted him to shut up and just pass out.

My hands followed this desire, squeezing around his throat and setting off more glitter explosions. This was definitely more violent than I had been intending to go, but when dealing with someone like Lung, I figured I could be excused.

I'm sure we made a terrifying or interesting sight—depending on the person. A teenage girl strangling a grown man composed of fire and insanity with a glitter bomb show to boot. If I were a normal person, I would sprint as far as possible from that type of situation while phoning the local Protectorate branch in a frenzy.

Unfortunately, I'm nowhere near normal as one of the involved individuals.

Again, I question my life choices. Why am I here and—oh, Lung was falling back and the fire was sputtering out. I kept the explosions of glitter cluster bombs going—because Lung might be faking it—as he fell back against the pavement with a sickening thud.

Well, it was probably fine now.

I brought the glitter bombs to a halt, wiping some stray glitter off of my cheek. I hesitantly checked for a pulse, and thank god there was one, before climbing off of Lung. Looking around at the amount of glitter smothering the buildings and unconscious gang members, I couldn't help but stare in disbelief.

I did this.

Me, prime bullying target at Winslow High, took down a group of ABB members and, hopefully, Lung, as well. It was surreal, and there was no way this was real, but here I was, standing awkwardly next to Lung, surveying the destruction I wreaked.

"Did you do this?"

I whipped around, taking in Armsmaster in all his glory; blue and gray suit with a visor and his staff, grimly taking in everything I had just been contemplating.

My first thought wasn't even disbelief at being spoken to by a Protectorate hero, but confusion about his question. Did I do this? No; Lung, on the ground, exploded in glitter and seemingly unconscious, was responsible. Certainly not the teenage girl standing alone surrounded by wreckage and dozens of unconscious people.

Of course, I didn't say that, even if I wanted to.

"Uh, yeah." I glanced at Lung and then back at Armsmaster. "I did."

"How did you do this, exactly?"

I really shouldn't say what I was thinking. "I'm a glitter bomb."

But I did. The impulsive thoughts just got the better of me, you know?

The sound of groaning startled me, prompting me to ignite glitter explosions off around my feet and leap far away from Lung, who was rising from the ground like the dead. Wait, rising? Didn't I just knock him out!?

I yelped and continued to explode the ground underneath my feet until I was a couple of feet away from Armsmaster. He looked thoroughly displeased, so I did the only thing any other idiot in this situation would do: I chuckled awkwardly. I wanted to punch myself after the sound came out of my mouth, and I was pretty sure Armsmaster was thinking along the same lines, too.

Thankfully, actually, no—unthankfully, Lung chose that moment to burst into another inferno of blazing fire, muttering crazed obscenities most likely about me under his breath. His voice sounded distorted, as if he was speaking through a heavy gas mask. It was insanely creepy.

"So… You want to deal with this?" I pointed a thumb towards Lung. "It looks pretty bad."

Maybe provoking a well known hero wasn't the best idea, but it's not like I'd been having a lot of those lately. A sequence of bad ideas had led me to this moment, after all.

Armsmaster, bless his soul, sighed. "Just stay out of the way, kid."

And I did.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Okay, maybe not at all.

---

"MY GLITTER BOMBS ARE BETTER THAN YOUR BOMBS BITCH!"

Bakuda's head slammed into the concrete, accompanied by my wondrous glitter explosion. I pumped a fist, cheering at my success. Quickly turning around, I smiled brightly at Armsmaster.

"How did I do?"

The man looked like he'd aged a thousand years and was heavily sighing.

Looks like I did something wrong after all. I thought I had done pretty well, all things considered. Not only did Bakuda attack me randomly on patrol, but she'd threatened the innocent civilians going about their days. So, I'd say I did a fine job instantly catapulting myself at her with decorum and taking her out swiftly. The glitter adorning her face agreed.

"We'll have to work on that."

I blinked. "Work on what?"

"Your… Everything."

It was kind of odd. In that moment, he looked like an exasperated dad trying to reign in his child. Oh well, not my problem.

I had more villains to explode, after all!

 

[Normal_Whale]

Girl gotta glitter bomb herself I guess
And everyone else too.
Is the color of the glitter rainbow?

 

[Versatility]

Is the color of the glitter rainbow?

Click to shrink...

Yeah, it is. I probably should have specified that somewhere. Oh well.