#attempted murder for the ask game! 🌱
"...So I'm dead now," Danny ends his story, face in his hands.
"You were dead before this," Sam points out. She takes a bite out of her perfectly carved celery sticks.
"I know, but now I'm dead dead," Danny groans, earning a pat on the back from Tucker. "Like. Dash pushed me off a bridge. And sure, it was an accident, but come on! There's no way I could survive that if I wasn't...me! I can't, like, reappear after that! I should have been a goner!"
"I mean, it was probably an accident," Tucker adds encouragingly, continuing the patting. It's well meant but not helpful in the slightest. Danny groans.
"Congrats on faking your death by accident," Sam says through her celery. She offers Danny a celery stick in commiseration. He eats it, but it tastes like nothing. "Have any big plans?"
"I dunno. Die?"
"You did that already," Tucker and Sam point out.
Danny puts his face in his hands. "I... Did he even report me? Did he even report that he probably killed me? Like...to anyone?"
Tucker pulls out his newest PDA, Pollyanna. A few taps of the stylus. Some scrolling "...Nah, dude. No news, no cops. Legally, you're still alive."
And they sit there, in Sam's room, in silence, wondering how one of their classmates managed to mostly get away with murder.
"...Think he'll cry if you show up to school tomorrow like nothing happened?" Sam mutters, more out of spite than anything.
Everyone looks at each other.
"...Ten bucks," Tucker says.
"No bet. I do the scary eyes and he probably pisses his pants," Danny snorts.
"It's a deal," Sam decides. "All in on making Dash have a mental breakdown?"
Hands go in. One, two, three— Danny and Tucker whoop as their three hands go up, the two high-fiving as Sam holds in her cackle.
"Jazz is going to kill us," Danny snickers, almost guilty.
"After Dash killed you? Please. If anything, Jazz might fetch the Jack O' Nine Tails and kill him first."
4K notes
·
View notes
I think that what makes Steve and Eddie’s dynamic so immediately iconic and delightful, is that they have nothing in common except Dustin.
Like, we see them trying to bond a few times, and they are STRUGGLING because they have absolutely no common interest. Whenever they talk, we get gems like Eddie quoting the lord of the rings or mentioning Ozzy to a very confused Steve. They both think that the other is cool but they can’t SAY IT because they basically speak two different languages. It’s a nerd/goth and jock/prep desperately attempting communication, it’s awkwardly wholesome in the best way.
But THEN as soon as it’s about DUSTIN, these two just fucking click and shift full soulmates mode. Dustin does something a little weird or vaguely annoying, and suddenly Steve and Eddie get possessed by an old married couple that has been together for 35 years but also divorced 7 times and keep getting back together to raise their son. Dustin will just breathe, and suddenly Steve "the king" Harrington and Eddie "the freak" Munson are fucking drift compatible out nowhere like "this kid needs to keep his ego in check" "IT’S HIS TONE RIGHT???" or "Henderson you are a butthead" "oh I conclure" or even "Henderson is not possessed is he?" "Oh no he is just deranged"
Whether it’s platonic or romantic, otp or brotp, it’s just think that it’s objectively the most hilarious concept of all time and I want to see more of it in Volume 2 and season 5.
21K notes
·
View notes
Kidnapped Zuko? Rescued by Gaang who dont know who he is and he has to hide his identity.
Okay, so. There’s already a teenager down in Commander Muttonchop’s brig. This fact is so far past concerning it’s wrapped around to let’s-not-think-too-hard-about-this hilarity, and Sokka finds himself grinning, and offering the guy a good ol’ fashioned Water Tribe wrist shake through the bars. They’re neighbors, after all.
“Hello, Fellow Prisoner. What are you in for?”
“I, uh,” says Fellow Prisoner, who is clearly undersocialized from his time in here. He’s looking a little grimy around the edges of his all-black outfit, and the bruises on him have had time to get newer, fresher bruises on top, which is just. That is all kinds of reassuring. Oh, and the giant fiery facial scar. Also reassuring. Though at least that one’s a few years old. So… inflicted when he was, what, Aang’s age?
So reassured, is feeling Sokka, for the Fire Nation’s upcoming hospitality.
“Uh,” repeats Fellow Prisoner, who is uncoiling a little in the direction of Sokka’s offered hand. As if Sokka was trying to coax him out, and hadn’t just sort of forgotten he was holding it there while his thoughts were doing their downward spiral. But hey, one man’s desperate attempts to keep his cool were another man’s offer of friendship. Fellow Prisoner grasped his wrist and shook it, in both the most technically correct and least experienced Water Tribe wrist clasp Sokka has ever experienced.
“Zhao thinks I was stealing military correspondence,” the guy says.
“Were you stealing military correspondence?” asks Sokka.
“Only his,” scowls Fellow Prisoner, to whom Sokka takes an immediate liking. “...What did you do? To get arrested. But not killed. He doesn’t usually…”
So, so reassured.
“Oh, you know,” Sokka says, continuing to shake wrists, because it is becoming clear that Fellow Prisoner has no idea how long this is supposed to last and Sokka isn't going to be the one to stop him. “The usual. Found the Avatar. Became traveling companions. Got captured doing something definitely heroic that did not in anyway involve excessive screaming of an unmanly pitch.”
“...The Avatar?” says Fellow Prisoner, who clearly knows how to focus on the important points.
“I’m bait,” says Sokka.
“For the Avatar.”
To be fair, Sokka is still a little stuck on that point, too. It’s been a few weeks, but he still wakes up too-hot in the night and wondering why the stars above him aren’t quite right.
“Yep,” he confirms.
Fellow Prisoner’s face does a thing. A sort of processing, processing, processing thing that involves progressively more scowling. “The Avatar left you? I knew the old man must be a coward.”
“So,” Sokka says, “about that.”
Fellow Prisoner drinks up Sokka’s story like a man who’s spent three years in a desert searching for water.
- - -
(It’s been two and half years.)
- - -
Their escape involves a significantly higher swords-to-escapees ratio than Sokka had anticipated, which is distractingly epic.
Also, the last-minute bison save is both the stupidest thing his little sister could have possibly done and very welcome, which means that Sokka is going to catch his breath and let some of his adrenaline fade before channeling his inner Gran-Gran for a lecture.
Fellow Prisoner sheaths both his swords. And kind of stares, rather than sitting down, so Sokka pulls him over before the bison turbulence (read: catapult dodging) can do the job. This does nothing to interrupt the staring.
“Hi,” says Aang, looking back from Appa’s head. “I’m Aang! What’s your name?”
“...Li?”
Under the sunlight, Fellow Prisoner’s eyes glint gold. He is… very Fire Nation-y looking, now that there is enough light to see him. And he is warmer against Sokka’s side than anyone not feverish should be, even in the ridiculous heat these northerners call ‘winter’.
“Are you a firebender?” asks Aang, like that question hasn’t spent decades earning its status as an insult.
“Uh,” says Li.
“Great!” says Aang, who has already figured out Li-speak. “I need a teacher!”
On the deck below them, Zhao has gone from shouting to laughing.
Sokka continues to be reassured.
10K notes
·
View notes