#and people point at me and say oh yeah she is the crackpot that ships Kenobi's grandpadawan with Darth Maul's baby brother

[imaginarianisms]

okay so. one thing ive been meaning to talk about in the rpc over the years is. the blatant ableism, sanism, racism & overall downplaying & watering down of serious issues such as cults to the point where nonsurvivors are rly out here making cult jokes which, to actual survivors, are like a massive slap in the face.

that's telling us "you don't matter".

on disabled characters & representation. i& genuinely don't remember the last time i& saw someone with a character who had a mobility aid or a wheelchair... if at all. i& genuinely don't remember the last time i& saw a disabled character actually Talk about their disability if it's even mentioned at all in threads & if it is it's usually a skinny cis white character, mostly cis white male characters, with the disability & fuck me& if there are any disabled characters of color at all.

i& genuinely don't remember the last time i& saw a character go indepth about the ableism & sanism they face. & i'm not saying that a disabled character has to let their disability define them but just like gender & orientation, a disability affects people & this doesn't just apply to physical disabilities. & i'm& not even getting into the way disabled & neurodivergent MUNS OF COLOR are treated, ESPECIALLY if their disability and/or neurodivergence is stigmatized.

i'm& not even getting into the stupid fucking way ppl go around throwing "delulu" everywhere as if they somehow have that right to mistreat schizospec & psychotic ppl & stigmatize us further. no, worstie, you're not fucking "delulu" for wanting your unlikely ship to be canon. no, you're not fucking "delulu" for wanting your crackpot theory to be true. it isn't some cutesy fucking trend you can hop on, theyre serious fucking issues. no worstie you're not "delulu" you're just sanist & hate psychotic people. stop using my& fucking symptoms as a stupid joke while stigmatizing me& for having them. i see a lot of nonpsys (for the unaware: nonpsys are people who dont have psychosis & aren't on the schizospec) using the word as if it's this cute quirky word to describe their fantasies & desires. its. literally not. delusions can INVOLVE fantasies & desires but arent those things on their own. it's not fucking funny to call yourself delusional as a joke & it's definitely not funny to just armchair diagnose people when a) you're not even a fucking doctor, psychologist or psychiatrist or any kind of medical professional & b) it's dehumanizing & c) i'm& betting y'all who use "delulu" have never even actually experienced a delusion, this isn't something you throw around for fun, it's an actual serious symptom with serious consequences for people who experience it. & as a schizospec did system myself i'm& Very Fucking Tired. noah fence but i& don't get delusions that're mostly trauma based & persecutory delusions just so y'all nonpsys can make it into another fun quirky thing & the same shit apply to ppl who use "psychopathic" "sociopathic" & "narcissistic" as an insult when most of the time personality disorders come from TRAUMA. & ESPECIALLY if you're autistic, you fucking know better

also. ppl are like "yeah i support systems!!!! :)))))) except fictive heavy systems, systems with lots of members, systems that share everything about themselves and systems who won't shut up about being systems. oh sorry your did and/or plurality makes me uncomfortable :(((((" i've& had people just. straight up refuse to acknowledge my& system at all & act like everything was fucking fine even when people claim to be my friend & give a fuck about me. my& older sister literally told me& to my& face that i& was lying for attention then she heard i& was actually dxed & she shut her ass up real quick. ive had people literally REFUSE to use our names or our pronouns despite KNOWING we're a system & some of us& were Also talking to these people. even from people who claim to be all like "oh i'm all for disabled people!! i'm all for respecting everyone's pronouns" but when it comes to our& plural ass they shut up real fucking quick. like. it won't kill y'all to ask about the rest of us&, about our& lives, showing us&.. idk, the latest episode of a show we've& never seen or a psd you made or introducing memes to us& & it definitely won't kill you to use an "&" by our names & pronouns or at the VERY FUCKING LEAST refer to us& as "y'all" or "you guys".

as someone w/ undxed aspd i& can tend to be very blunt especially if i'm& irritated. does that make me an evil person? uh. no. i& don't think so. someone w/ a personality disorder doesn't automatically mean an abuser & that goes ESPECIALLY with people with narcissistic personality disorder & antisocial personality disorder. disorders by themselves cannot be abusive. not everyone who's abusive has a personality disorder & even if they did, it's bc of their actions, not the disorder itself. & sometimes people just suck & are downright cunts.

if i& sound irritated its bc i& am. i'm& your local angry mean madcripple tryna tell y'all that this is a rpc. rp COMMUNITY. there are people who see this ableist shit. there are trauma survivors in your community. yes, this is worded aggressively but i& need y'all to understand that y'all Need to be able to engage with the anger of people with more stigmatized disorders & ESPECIALLY trauma survivors w/ more severe trauma & not just when we're being informative or entertaining to you if the rpc's gonna be better.

#out of the galaxy. || ooc. #all of this is /nbh btw this is just. like. a general messy vent at the entire rpc not at any particular person. yall are chill. #/ ableism #/ sanism #/ psyism #/ pluralphobia

[scienter]

Note: I had to copy and paste this ask from Word because when I returned to my inbox to answer it was no longer there. Idk what happened. 🤔

Hi. I'm not sure how to tumblr. I'm basically here because a friend linked me to one of your tvd metas after I started watching the show a few weeks back. I was halfway through the penultimate season when I decided to drop it altogether. Something tells me the writers either hated Stefan & Caroline or at least they didn't want them to be happy. And while I understand stefan's character trait of being consumed by revenge, he's been acting so irrationally this season that after a point even his otherwise weak-willed, bad strategist, impulsive brother was like 'I quit! You deal with your BS!' Fortunately/unfortunately I'm aware of the series finale & I think the writers never wanted Stefan's hero hair to have any character development so that they could justify his death as some sort of sacrifice but in the end it was to service his selfish brother's manpain. I wonder how people watched tvd for 8 years and I'm not saying it didn't have great moments but I also noticed how they rinsed-repeated storylines every season. For e.g Stefan seems to be dumbed down version of who he originally is and kind of reminds me of Tyler whose life pretty much changed for the worse because of Klaus or when he was so stupid that he was practically going to use his own body to put Klaus down in s4 & didn't even bother telling Caroline about it until she found out about it or something. Thankfully, this time Caroline didn't sleep with her boyfriends's mom's murderer though. What an absolute nightmare that would have been. Sorry for the rant but that wasn't the sole point of this message. I noticed you are a X-Files fan! Yay! If you don't mind me asking what's your favourite Mulder-Scully scene? And just out of curiosity,have you watched Normal People? If yes, then what's your opinion? If no, then please do watch. I think you'd love/enjoy the series.It's insane how much the characters, their individual characters arcs & overall journey is similar to that of Stefan and Caroline but with quality writing. Lastly,what does "scienter" mean? Thanks, Chandreyee. P.S: My friend is a Delena shipper & thinks Delena is the best thing to have happened on TVD * rolls eyes * but seemed to have enjoyed your blog back in the day. Hence ,the recommendation.

Hi there, Chandreyee. Welcome to tumblr!

Stefan & The TVD Finale

Oh, I’ve had my share of rants about the TVD finale and how Kevin Williamson spitefully killed Stefan because he wasn’t going to get the Stelena ending he wanted. That’s not a crackpot theory – he said as much in an interview. So yeah. We got the nonsensical finale that reverted Stefan & Damon to their season 1 characterization. That frustrated me given that I spent 8 years watching that show.

And like you one of the things I disliked about TVD was the repetitious storytelling. The formulaic storytelling drove me nuts, especially in the later seasons.  I take it as a sign that a story has gone on too long. If a writer can’t imagine new conflicts or plots then it’s time to call it quits.

Favorite Mulder & Scully Scene

Oh, wow. This is hard. Because there are ten or fifteen (or twenty) Mulder and Scully scenes that I could call my favorite.

I love their last scene in Triangle when Mulder tells Scully he loves her.  

I love their scene in Detour when Scully sings Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog.

I love their scene in Folie a Deux when Mulder tells Scully that she’s his “one in five billion.”

I love every single scene of theirs in Bad Blood.

And I love, love, love Mulder teaching Scully to play baseball a.k.a. Hips Before Hands in the Unnatural.

And of course, I’d be remiss to leave out Mulder & Scully dancing to Walking in Memphis in The Post Modern Prometheus.

I could go on. I love Mulder & Scully. They are my favorite tv couple. They are my original ship. I don’t know how to distill my love of them to a single scene.

I’ve thought about writing a Top Ten Favorite Mulder & Scully Moments meta over the years, but I’ve have never gotten around to it. Maybe I’ll do it this year. Hmm . . .

Normal People

No, I’ve never seen Normal People. I’ve heard good things about it though.

Scienter

Scienter is a legal term for intent or knowledge of wrongdoing (i.e., the defendant knew that his or her act or statement was illegal, deceptive, or wrong.) It’s random, I knew. I chose it because (1) it was short, (2) I could spell it, and (3) the word’s obscurity meant that it was available.

#anon #anon for ts #ask for ts #reply for ts #replies #tvd #txf #msr

[meandmyechoes]

Author’s Notes on #crackship fireworks

(scroll down for ship-specfic notes.)

Their (placeholder?) ship name is Fireworks. Because it's a one time, brilliant passion, but it wouldn't last. Violence is a gentle expression. It's also where they meet.

i’m so embarrassed this is my first time creating romance.

idk i’ve shipped before, even harder but idk why this make me blush so much! oh the pressure from a viral meme! and it’s the first really crack ship that I devote an unholy amount of time on (i.e. since 8a.m. July 21st), not even YJ’s famous crack armada could prepare me for this.

usually i get so wrapped up with canon materials, or canon subtext i don’t really need to create all these scenarios in my head, even for lifelong OTPs like Bones or Ulumi because Canon was just enough but this time I feel like I flung myself into a tempest as much as we put these fictional people through and I’m completely ignoring all the rules. I’m stepping out of my comfort zone to really own these characters and create a whole different version for them, that’s just what I’d never do before. Even what I vowed to despise before.

I mean, am I taking this a little more seriously than it needed? Yeah, but i’m like that, obsessed, infatuated and can’t pull out until time drowns me. so with my current caffeine levels, it’s gonna stay for another 24 hours until the embarrassment wins over. 

I’m essentially writing OCs here under a prescribed name and it make all the butterflies rattle in my stomach. To exaggerate, I'm fainting like Zuko after he made a good decision.

the popsicle drabble has swum in my head several days before, when I was totally bored and shamelessly put a self-insert in the cat. idk just wanted to paint an idyllic scene because my whole weekend was ruined. it was okay sitting in my brain but the thought of over 100 people is willing to read it just swung a sledgehammer at my face and how i couldn’t possibly name the cat after myself. I gave him the boy version of my name to "symbolize" something but we have to work around that now. Yeah it kinda upset the following ripples but nothing i can’t handle. (wow i just checked the drafts it’s been swimming since july 16th 1:06am)

In regard to the ship(’s future), i did wrote a premise meta for how I’ll grow their relationship. I still have to fine-tune it so they mimic more of their canon personality, or not. There are some details need noted. 

i have to be honest. i planned seven chapter titles so far, up to the break-up and maybe reunion. it’s really the angsty reunion that i was interested about and half-dribbled last night in dialogues. but at that point it’s beyond salvage. the other dates are all tropey cliche that i’m contented just have it float in my head. even if i write them they’ll be extremely short lol. i think i’ll write one or two more chapters to kind of pushed them into ‘dating’ at least, but I have zero confidence i’ll actually commit lol. 

I have personal grievances with stupid people who [...] cannot accept reality that they can only find fulfillment in polarized AUs. (@meandmyechoes, ships. 2. (unpopular opinion), retrieved 21st July, 2020 16:02)

HA. haha. i'm literally so sorry for obsessing over feral/ahsoka the past 24 hours, and like my past fever dreams, it's likely to fade in the next 24. I just wrote a shameless self-insert the audacity is killing me. seriously this is the deepest craziness I've sunken into since TCW finale and I single-handedly destroyed any pretense of sanity I have on this site. I swear this is just a grief recovery phase and I in fact, is indeed an idiot grinning behind the plasma screen.

you see i would also like to return to regular programming of crying over skyguy and snips which is why my arsenal of sad gifsets are ready to strike back (with bonus sad Rex and Obi-Wan if i can manage)

*****

hey just wanna say i was completely drunk on caffeine last night/this morning and what a fever dream it had been. And now I've been in hangover for nearly 12 hours with a racing heart and paranoid compulsion like a headless fly. And, I want to conclude by, this is not what I want to go down with.

#crackship fireworks #myechoes #cries please don't remeber me for this #my legacy should be well-researched metas and tragic :/ gifsefs welp #also i'm writing phantoms now i said birthday right? it's been a WHOLE month lol #imagine a newbie coming to the fandom next year #and people point at me and say oh yeah she is the crackpot that ships Kenobi's grandpadawan with Darth Maul's baby brother #also she spent a decade staring at Ahsoka's lekku #you'll find the world one more dark-sider #ships

[ashleyfanfic]

Let me say this for the people in the back

I am so sick and tired of seeing posts talking about the end of Game of Thrones being happy or sad. You know what, the reality is, it’s fucking ending. That’s sad! What’s not sad is that these actors have worked their asses off to bring us a fantastic story that will live beyond them. Look at Lord of the Rings. That lived beyond Tolkien. 

And then we have the group of jonerys shippers who think (or want) our beans to die. To that I say, “have you been paying attention?” First of all, we have these two who GRRM said the series is basically about them coming together. Second, we have all the promotional material being of them together. Yeah, we know a reveal is coming, but the truth is how much time do they really have to let Jon brood about that before the dead come knocking on the door and then how much will that actually matter? Third, the whole FUCKING SHOW has been about the Targaryen Restoration. Don’t believe me? What was that side book about? You know the one that GRRM wrote instead of finishing the sixth book? OH, yeah, Fire and Blood which is about the TARGARYEN LINE. Not the Stark line. Not the Baratheons, the Lannisters, the Tyrells, but the fucking TARGARYENS! You’ve got two living, breathing Targaryens who are both good people who are looking to fight for and protect their people with every ounce of power at their disposal. The ending of Dany’s arc last season saw people repeatedly talking about her line of succession and the fact that she “can’t” have a child. And the one person SHE chooses to share this information with doesn’t believe her. Oh, and we know that Targaryens are notorious for being attracted to one another and procreating like mad. Fifth, GRRM said that the ending would be bittersweet and everyone assumes that it means Jon or Dany or both will die. Hey, assholes, do you realize Lord of the Rings had a bittersweet ending and the only member of the Fellowship who died was Boromir(Sean Bean)? Arwen and Aragorn married, Faramir and Eowyn married, Sam married, Pippin married, Merry married. Frodo was never the same and left on the ship, but it was the happiest ending he could get at that point. So, bittersweet doesn’t mean everyone will die. People will die, I just don’t think it will be Dany and Jon. I also don’t think that they will sit on the Iron Throne but that’s my own crackpot theory. 

So, if you don’t like what I have to say, block me, unfriend me, however, this works in the world of Tumblr. I’m just sick and tired of seeing all you people who have let others get in your head and fuck up your minds. Stop all your worrying. Stop your pacing. Sit back and enjoy and drink in the tears of the doubters and haters as it comes. 

#jonerys #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #fandom wank #stupid fuckers

[empressofeverything]

unconventional

Summary: Freed and Evergreen, desperate to find a missing Laxus, hire a pair of crackpot smugglers to take them across the galaxy. They had no way of knowing the two had enough troubles of their own, including a bloodthirsty criminal syndicate on their tails. 

Notes: This is for my darling @raijindork‘s birthday. Technically because of time zones and shit, her birthday was yesterday, but here, it’s still her bday. And it’s BixCo Week and I promised a fic for that. So happy birthday, my darling! Have nerds in space!

“Of all the plans you have ever come up with, this has to be the stupidest one yet.” Freed winced as Evergreen’s harsh voice echoed over his comm.

“Listen, Ever, if I had any other choice, I would not be wandering into a bar full of killers and thieves. But this is the only way we’ll be able to get off this hellhole and find Laxus.”

Evergreen’s gusty sigh came across as ear-splitting static and Freed had to fight the urge to yank the device out of his ear. “Fine. Since this is for Laxus.” Her voice changed to a much more professional one. “Eyes activating in three, two, one.”

Though he couldn’t physically tell, he knew Ever’s Stone Eyes protocol had activated, enabling her to see through his eyes, thanks to an implant they’d both received as children. He tried not to think of the horrors they’d endured growing up. This happened every time Evergreen used his eyes; he’d gotten pretty good at ignoring it over the years.

His eyes, and her’s, flickered around the smokey room, searching for…something. Freed was content to let her make a decision on a potential pilot. Her database, another implanted gift from their…parents, was a better resource than the entirety of Corusant’s mainframe. If he trusted nothing else, Freed trusted Laxus’ lightning and Evergreen’s database. His eyes made another pass around the room, hearing Evergreen mumbling and discarding options as profiles jumped across his peripheral and vanished just as quickly. He could feel her taking control of his eyes when they settled on two men seated in a dim corner.

“Bixlow, age 35, pilot and mechanic, formerly of Blue Pegasus. Left for an unknown reason. Current bounty: 20,000 credits. Cobra…” he could hear the frown in her voice. “I have no more information on him. Odd. My database is extensive enough that I should have something more than just a name.”

“What do you want me to do?” Freed murmured, flagging down the bartender for a glass of some unknown concoction. One sniff was enough to ensure it was not going down his throat.

“The two in the corner. I think they’re the ones.”

“You’re the boss, Ever. I’m trusting your judgement.”

She chuckled. “Famous last words.” Freed slipped away from the bar, moving through the shadows to stand before

“Hey pretty boy, you need something? Or are you just going to stand and stare at us all day?”

Freed flushed, then straightened. “Actually, gentlemen, I wondered if I might speak to you for a moment.” The scarred one raised an eyebrow while the tattooed one chuckled.

“Not only is he fancy pants, he’s got fancy words too.” A chair was kicked out, nearly hitting him in the kneecaps. “Sit. We have nothing better to do, so we might as well hear you out.”

“But no hits,” the scarred man said, raising a finger. “I’ve met my quota for the month.” Freed stared then decided it was probably better not to ask. He laid his request out in short, to the point sentences. These two didn’t seem like the type with a whole lot of patience.

“A search and rescue mission.” The two traded looks. “That’s a new one for us.”

“We normally get tapped for assassinations and shit like that. Live retrieval isn’t exactly our forte.”

“We’re not asking you to do the retrieval, just transport. My partner and I can handle the rest from there. And we’re willing to pay quite well for it.”

The scarred man leaned forward, interest piqued. “How much is well?”

Freed leaned in as well, lowering his voice ever so slightly. “7000 up front, 7000 when we find him.”

The men shared a long look before the blue haired one grinned. “Sounds like you have a deal. Docking Bay 95, one hour. Be there or we leave without you, pretty boy.”

Freed nodded and rose, making his way to the door when-

“BIXLOW!”

The shriek and accompanying blaster shot sent most of the occupants of the bar to the floor out of sheer survival instinct. The tattooed man swore, grabbing his partner’s arm as a blonde woman burst into the building, obliterating half of the wall. He dragged the other man along with him, hustling Freed out the door, the woman’s continued shrieking following them out into the dusty air.

“Grab your friend, let’s go! We need to get off-planet right fucking now.”

“Evergreen, I hope you heard all that,” Freed muttered into his comm, not waiting for her affirmative answer before bolting after the two smugglers.

She was there, ready and waiting for them at the docking bay as the three swept up in a flurry of dust and haste.

“C’mon, you two. If we don’t hurry, Lucy’s going to catch up and no one wants to be around to see that.”

Takeoff was tense, Evergreen gripping his hand for reassurance the whole way. But once the familiar black and silver pinpricked sky filled the viewport, they all relaxed.

“I haven’t had a face off with Lucy in months,” the tattooed one Evergreen had tagged as Bixlow said, contemplatively cleaning his fingernails with a knife. “I wonder how she’s been doing in this economy.”

“But she was trying to kill us! Why would you be worried about her?”

“Twenty people try to kill us every week,” Cobra pointed out, with the sheer unconcern of a man who was secure in his own immortality.  

“And I usually end up getting high with half of them. Besides, Lucy won’t actually kill us. She’s just mad that I shot her boyfriend.” Bixlow frowned. “Actually, she might kill me. She seemed pretty pissed about that.”

Cobra just stared at him, his still-functioning eyebrow raising. “You shot her boyfriend, you ass. Of course she’s going to be pissed.”

Bixlow shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You are the stupidest sentient lifeform I have ever had the displeasure to know.”

“Awww but you love me!” Bixlow cooed, getting Cobra’s favorite finger flashed at him in response. The blue haired man threw his head back, howling with laughter in response. Soft violin music drifted through the air. “I’m going to go check the engine while I still have time. It was making funny noises last time we had to do some wild maneuvering. Try not to scare the passengers while I’m gone.”

“So…” Evergreen began, glancing between the two, Bixlow’s back retreating further down the hallway. “Why exactly do you have one of the most infamous bounty hunters in the galaxy after you?”

Flipping switches on the dash and changing the music, Cobra spoke absently as he looked over the numbers the navicom was spewing at him. “Have you heard of the Oracion Seis?”
 “Who hasn’t?” Freed asked incredulously. “They’re the most violent, hated criminal syndicate in the Outer Rim. They have literal planets under their thumbs. Even law abiding citizens who have no association with the criminal underground have heard of them.”

“Yeah. I used to be a member.”

Freed appeared poleaxed. “What,” he asked faintly.

“Yeah, I used to be a member of the Oracion Seis. I killed, stole, murdered, did whatever I wanted under their flag. For awhile, it was great. Then the son of the current head killed his father and took over control. He and I didn’t agree on certain matters so I left. Not before stealing my just dues and a lovely little ship.” He patted the console, looking fond despite his face never changing. “I eventually hooked up with Bixlow on Tallus. We’d been partners on jobs before and I figured he’d be an okay guy to deal with. And here we are.” Cobra gestured widely at the cockpit. He smiled rakishly. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

Evergreen and Freed traded glances. It was faintly alarming how much his backstory sounded like their own. Aside from the genetic experimentation they’d been forced to undergo, that is. Before either could comment, Cobra looked up, a tiny, fond smile edging its way onto his face.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

“Nah, see, Cobra’s the actual devil.” Bixlow grinned as he loped back into the cockpit, nudging his partner on his way.

Cobra’s scaly tail twitched. “Fuck off, Bixlow. Are we all set for the next jump?”

“All set and ready for action.” Bixlow dropped into the copilot’s chair and spun to face Evergreen and Freed.

“They asked why Lucy was after us.”

“You gave them the whole Oracion backstory, didn’t you? No wonder they look like they got hit by a wampa.” Both chuckled, breaking the spell of shock woven over their passengers.

Evergreen threw her hands up in the air. “Out of every criminal in that forsaken hellhole, you had to pick the major crime syndicate fugitives, didn’t you, Freed. Out of everyone, that’s who you picked.”

“May I remind you that this was a mutual effort?” He demanded, aghast. “We were in this together, Evergreen, don’t even try to pass the blame off on me. And I distinctly recall you deciding they were going to be our pilots.”

Bixlow chuckled as he listened to their passengers squabbling back and forth. “Is that what we sound like?” He murmured to Cobra. The disgusted look on his face was enough to send Bixlow into heaving laughter again. Laughter that quickly trailed off when the proximity sensor began beeping at him. “Oh shittttt…”

“What? Who is it?”

Bixlow looked up, all traces of humor wiped from his face. “It’s Crime Sorciere.” Cobra paled.

“I thought you paid them!”

“Okay yeah so did I.” Fingers flew over the keys as numbers burbled out of the speaker. “Maybe there were hidden charges I didn’t know about. Or interest. Knowing how much of a fucking skinflint Ultear is, that’s probably what it is. That woman will gouge you for as much as you’re worth. Give her a klick, she’ll take a parsec and then tell you you owe her money.”

Cobra yanked back on the thruster. “We should be able to outfly them, the Cubelious is faster than their piece of junk by a long shot.”

“Uhhh….well, normally, you’d be right.”

“Bixlow. What aren’t you telling me?” Cobra’s voice went colder than the stars outside.

“I might’ve…disconnected the tertiary fuel bivalve to the hyperspace engine block? Because I thought I would have time to fix it before our next jump?”

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

“I really, really wish I was.” Bixlow winced at the look on his partner’s face. Cobra looked ready to dismember him and dump acid on the parts before spacing them along with the garbage. Freed and Evergreen sat in tense, anticipating silence, watching the two partners disagree.

“I am going to shoot you out a fucking airlock once we get out of this mess. Go fix the damn thing, you moron! I have to try and clean up after you, again.” Cobra began grumbling as his hands flew over the console, yanking on levers and smashing buttons.

“Aye, aye. Sorry, Cobra.”

“Enough apologies, get going! Strap in and quit fighting, you two, it’s about to get ugly!”

The next thirty minutes were a testament to Cobra’s skill as a pilot. He wove in and out of shots that screamed overhead. Stars and red blaster shots spun in a mesmerizing and nausea inducing whirl with the Cubellious’s movements, and yet through it all Cobra kept his cool. He seemed to be playing a game of cat-and-mouse with the increasingly irritated pilot of the other ship. Barely there and gone the next moment, he was biding his time until he heard Bixlow’s shout.

“It’s fixed! Hit it, Cobra!”

Stars elongated and Crime Sorcerie’s shots careened into the darkness of space. The Cubellious was long gone.

“Laxus!”

The burly man suddenly found himself under attack by his two dearest friends, who clung to him and cried, refusing to let go. He stared down at them, then at the men standing behind them. One of them raised his hands, tail twitching. “I ain’t hugging you, so don’t even ask.”

Laxus got the feeling, as Freed and Evergreen held onto him, sobbing their hearts out, that he really, really didn’t want to know. 

Bixlow punched in the final coordinates for their next destination and settled back in his seat. Next to him, Cobra fiddled with the radio dial, grunting in satisfaction as smooth jazz filled the cockpit.

“Ready to jump, partner?” Bixlow asked, grinning. He received an answering grin.

“Anytime, Bix, anytime.”

The stars elongated and the Cubelious flickered out of sight, off to her next destination.

#BixCo #BixCo week #BixCo week 2017 #Bixlow/Cobra #Raijinshu #raijindork #for my dearest's birthday #only the best for you #BixCo week day 2 #Fairy Tail #scribbles of the empress

[zrtranscripts]

Radio Abel, Season Three

Part 2 of 7

ZOE CRICK: And we're back. So, as we were saying before the break, Eugene and I have been working on a little project recently. Lots of the messages we get from our listeners include their own stories of surviving the outbreak, and what they did in the days since.

A lot of these are very personal and often very touching, so we didn't want to belittle these experiences by prattling on about them. Instead, we wanted to play you all a collection of these stories, to give them the respect they deserve.

EUGENE WOODS: Exactly. We know how hard it is to talk about experiences like these, but we also know how important it is to do so. So here we go: your stories of the outbreak.

CALLER: How did I survive? Well, I'm a family practice physician, and my patient, Mister Smith, started to change while I was getting ready to go into the room to see him. It's like nothing I'd ever seen before. I yelled for my nurse. That was a bad idea. I was able to get myself out of the way, but he attacked her. The next thing I know – something different – he started to change faster, and so did she. We later found out he was patient zero here in the Portland/Vancouver area.

Well, I cornered them into the exam room as best I could. The only thing I had available was one of the electronic automatic defibrillators. It wasn't the best idea, because when it went off, I ended up with two zombies that were partially on fire. The only thing I had left was the ax that was near the fire extinguisher. I was able to finish them off, and that's the only way I survived.

SCOTT: Hey, guy! My name's Scott. Long time listener, first time caller. [laughs] I've always wanted to say that. Before the zoms, I was actually a radio DJ myself! Strange to be on this side of things. You're doing great, by the way. Keep up the great work.

Um, but... memories. One of the things I always enjoyed doing before the outbreak was to sit out under the fall evening sky with my wife, and I'd play her songs on my guitar. And those were always such peaceful moments. That's actually what my wife and I were doing when we got the word of the outbreak. A neighbor screamed the details from his yard as he was packing his family into the car, and they ended up speeding away.

I can't remember his name, and we'd been neighbors for three years. I take time to learn names now, though. Might sound funny, but somehow it seems more important. Anyhow, uh, even with the heads up from my neighbor – man, I wish I could remember his name – we just didn't move fast enough. It's amazing how quickly things can shift from calm and peaceful to just utter chaos! I still play guitar from time to time, it's just a little harder to do without her.

CALLER: During my second year of college, uh, there was this one storm in April that knocked down a bunch of trees on campus, and we lost power for two whole days. So my friends and I spent the next two days making blanket forts and raiding my supply of glow sticks, and joking about what we would do if the apocalypse had actually happened.

Then it did, and I'm halfway across the world studying abroad while they're back in America. But mostly I just... I really want to know if they carried out our zombie escape plan, and if they actually are on some remote island in the Bahamas, making blanket forts again.

JACK HOLDEN: We'll be back with more of your stories after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now it's time for more of your stories.

FIRST CALLER: I am – well, I was – an astronaut in training for NASA. My four crewmates and I were doing a six week mission in NEEMO, an underwater laboratory off the coast of Florida. We had been at 60 feet deep for about three weeks, simulating a trip to Mars. We were allowed to check in with our teammates on the surface – whom we referred to as Mission Control – for just a few minutes once each day.

On day 22, we made our daily check-in and were told several people had just come down with some sort of virus. We assumed it was a particularly nasty flu, maybe even food poisoning. On day 23 we got a very brief transmission that mentioned... well, zombies. But we just thought Mission Control was just playing a joke on us, although honestly, we didn't find it very funny. That was the last time we ever heard from Mission Control.

We waited three more days and then decided to abort the mission. It took us six hours to go through the decompression protocols, make it to the surface, and take our emergency boat back to shore. We never found a single living human.

SECOND CALLER: Hey. Thanks so much for all you do. It keeps my spirits up, even though some days, when I miss my dad and my dog, I feel bad just being here. Anyways, I thought that if I pass on something that lifts my heart, it might make me feel like I'm giving back.

On those dark days – or nights, really – I got outside and look up at the stars. The fact that we can not only see the brightest constellations like Orion or Ursa Minor, but without the light pollution, we can also see the glorious sweep of the Milky Way again. Teeny tiny stars that must be millions of light years away, shining down on us from so long ago.

I don't know... I guess feeling small makes me feel better. Weird, huh? Anyway, I better get back to digging for worms. We're going on a fishing trip today, and I can't wait to taste some fresh fish. Thanks!

THIRD CALLER: I missed hot chocolate. A lot. It kept running through my head as I ran from zombies, shot zombies, hid from zombies. I just couldn't stop thinking about it! So I snuck into town and raided a high-end chocolatier. Pulled a sack of vacuum-sealed powder out of the back.

Then I needed milk. Whole milk, the thick and creamy stuff. Did you know that milk cows go feral if you leave them alone long enough? Yeah. Did you know that feral milk cows make enough noise to attact zoms if you try to milk them? That was a fun surprise.

So, [coughs] now I'm sitting here in the rundown remains of a hastily-barricaded dairy farmhouse, heating this [coughs] milk very carefully so it doesn't scald, while the bite in my leg festers. I'm going to drink the best hot chocolate in the entire world, and then I'm going to use my last bullet. And it was totally worth it.

ZOE CRICK: I really hope that was one incredible hot chocolate.

JACK HOLDEN: I'm sure it was.

EUGENE WOODS: I just wanted to take a moment on behalf of all of us to thank everyone out there for sharing their stories. Our hearts go out to you all. Stay safe, everyone.

JACK HOLDEN: Now, our next set of messages are... pretty interesting.

EUGENE WOODS: I love them.

JACK HOLDEN: Well, you do have a well-documented love of crackpots and weirdos.

EUGENE WOODS: Still with you, aren't I?

JACK HOLDEN: ... walked right into that one, didn't I?

EUGENE WOODS: Could not have made it any easier.

JACK HOLDEN: Well, you know what they say -

ZOE CRICK: Do you think you could leave the flirting for the music break, boys? It's lovely and all, but -

EUGENE WOODS: Oh! Sorry. Guess we get a little -

JACK HOLDEN: - carried away. [laughs]

EUGENE WOODS: [laughs] - carried away sometimes. Anyway, the sounds you're about to hear are transmissions we picked up from across the pond. Ever since Janine upgraded the receivers around here, we've been catching bits and pieces of other stations out in the states, and we thought we'd bring you some of our favorites.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: They're your favorites. You left out the best one.

ZOE CRICK: Someone reading old phone books on the air hardly counts as entertainment, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Aw, it was soothing! She had such a calming voice. It was like listening to the shipping forecast.

ZOE CRICK: You really are a man of singular taste, aren't you?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, you know what they say -

JACK HOLDEN: Oi!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What?

JACK HOLDEN: Pot, kettle. Flirting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN and ZOE CRICK: We are not flirting!!

JACK HOLDEN: [snorts] We know, we know. Just colleagues. But the point stands. Now, let's get on with it, shall we?

EUGENE WOODS: Yeah, we're running on now. Let's do a song first.

JACK HOLDEN: You're the boss. And we'll be right back with our transatlantic transmissions.

JACK HOLDEN: Okay, here we go. Now this first transmission is certainly something special.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] That's one way of putting it.

EUGENE WOODS: Here he is – Nick Trapezius, with Brawn of the Dead!

[epic rock music]

NICK: What up, swole-diers? This is Nick Trapezius, back with another Brawn of the Dead. Somebody asked me the other day, "Nick, why are you still hitting the gym and getting so huge? Doesn't the zombie plague mean we've got to be lean and mean?" No, ma, it does not. Running all day is fine if all you want to do is run away. But if you want the bad guys running from you, then size matters!

I know. "But Nick, zombies don't fear muscles." Doesn't matter, ma, because muscles don't fear zombies. You don't need a shotgun when you've got these guns. Sweet bicep flex. [rock music] Until next time, bros, this is Nick Trapezius saying keep picking things up and putting things down.

EUGENE WOODS: [imitates NICK] Ooh yeah! [ZOE CRICK laughs] You don't need a shotgun if you've got these guns.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Sound, sound advice.

JACK HOLDEN: [imitates NICK] Sweet bicep flex.

[ZOE CRICK and EUGENE WOODS laugh]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We all heard the clip, guys.

EUGENE WOODS: [imitates NICK] Keep picking things up and putting things down.

[JACK HOLDEN and ZOE CRICK laugh]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right! Enough! Could you please play a song, Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: [imitates NICK] What's the matter, Phil? Did you never dream of being a swole-dier?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not really, no. Music!

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] All right, all right, party pooper.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, we're back! And even though it's not my favorite, here is a transmission that I did enjoy. We've got Father Neil here with some lovely biblical discussion.

[soothing music]

FATHER NEIL: Welcome to another episode of "Revelations." I'm Father Neil.

Thomas writes, "Father Neil, wasn't Jesus a zombie, since he rose from the dead?" Well, Thomas, I can't find a single instance in the Gospels of Jesus biting anyone, before or after the Resurrection. And while Christ did bear the marks of his crucifixion (John, chapter 20,) there is no mention that his flesh was rotting off his bones, which is, I think, something the apostles would have noticed.

So to answer your question, Thomas: no. Not everyone who rises from the dead is a zombie, just like not everyone who swims is a fish. [soothing music] Until next time, this is Father Neil, reminding you to praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition.

ZOE CRICK: Not exactly the most holy of discussions, is it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What do you mean?

ZOE CRICK: "Was Jesus a zombie?" It's hardly the stuff of great scripture.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, in case you hadn't noticed, Zoe, we're a bit short on bishops and pastors right now, and I'd rather have this sort of discussion than some meathead talking about his "guns."

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Am I detecting some jealousy here?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What? Why do you think I'd be jealous?

ZOE CRICK: Well, it's not like you have an arsenal of your own, is it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: How - ? I don't know - ! Oh, stick it up your arsenal. Play a song, would you?

ZOE CRICK: Ooh, touchy!

EUGENE WOODS: All right, we've had Phil's favorite -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: My second favorite.

EUGENE WOODS: - Phil's second favorite, so now it's time for mine.

JACK HOLDEN: Oh. Oh, it's so creepy.

EUGENE WOODS: Well, you know what I like.

JACK HOLDEN: ... I do. I do.

EUGENE WOODS: So here's Eric Luke, all the way from Hollywood.

[static]

ERIC: Hello? Hello? Is this transmission being received? Will I ever know? My name is Eric Luke. I am camped in the hills above what used to be Hollywood. I look out over the endless necropolis of the film industry, now crowded with zoms that careen through the streets with the same howling hunger for human flesh that propelled them through their careers.

I found a high-powered rifle scope the other day and was finally able to peer into the top floors of all the studio towers that I used to haunt, making pitch after pitch. I'll be damned if in every palatial penthouse office, there wasn't a rotting corpse sitting at every massive desk, staring into space. Some things never change.

Hard to believe, but with the city shut down, the desert is reclaiming its own. And it gets cold up here at night. To keep warm, I'm burning the Hollywood sign one bit at a time. First, it became Holywood. Then, Holywod. Then, Holywo. Then Howo, then Owo, then just O. Or zero. You tell me.

This is Eric Luke, signing off. Oh, and if you've got a second, I've written an audiobook called Interference. See, it's about an audiobook that starts killing people when they listen to it. And you're listening to it, see? And there's this guy, and he's – [drowned out by static]

JACK HOLDEN: Well, at least he's not as bad as Father Michael.

EUGENE WOODS: I still don't know why you hate that guy so much.

JACK HOLDEN: Uh, because he's about a 10,000 on the creepy scale. He's an evangelical preacher, and a conspiracy theorist. That's like sharks with lasers.

EUGENE WOODS: Yeah! Perfect! I wonder what happened to him.

JACK HOLDEN: Probably wandering around the wilderness somewhere, trapping people in pits or something.

ZOE CRICK: You know we have no idea what you're talking about, right?

JACK HOLDEN: Oh, it's um, it's just this old thing that Eugene thought was great, but actually it was really disturbing.

ZOE CRICK: Fair enough. Do we have any more recordings to play?

EUGENE WOODS: We do, actually. One more, and it's just for you two.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This isn't another trick, is it?

EUGENE WOODS: No, no! Wouldn't dream of it! Don't worry! Let's have a song, and then we'll get back to our last transmission.

ZOE CRICK: Sounds good. Here's one for you, Eric.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, Eugene, what do you have for us? I'm all nerves over here.

EUGENE WOODS: This is something that came in the other night. Jack, ready?

JACK HOLDEN: Yup! Here we go.

CALLER: So the camp I'm at is letting us send out messages, try to find family if we can. I don't have anyone left, and I promised myself I'd do this if I ever could, so... before all this, I had a crazy overactive conscience. Like, "couldn't even be mean in video games" level of guilt. Not really surprised it never went away, even given the circumstances.

Jack, Eugene, you guys were a bit of bright in this darkness. And Phil and Zoe, when you took over, I judged you guys unfairly, and since then, it's been eating me up that I did that. Solo shows, all together – you guys are helping people feel safe and happy, and that's huge. So I'm sorry, even if it doesn't mean anything to you guys. Guilty conscience, promised myself, all that. So there it is. Thanks for everything. All of you.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh...

ZOE CRICK: What a nice message.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You didn't... like us?

ZOE CRICK: Not the point, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But-but we were trying so hard!

ZOE CRICK: They like us now! That was the whole point of the message.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, but... I thought we were doing a good job.

ZOE CRICK: We are doing a good job.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, but - !

ZOE CRICK: Listener, thank you for your message. It was very sweet of you to let us know, and we're glad we brought you around.

JACK HOLDEN: Amen. Listeners, uh, well, it's been great to hear all your messages, and we want to thank you all for sending them in.

EUGENE WOODS: We really couldn't do what we do without you guys, and we hope we've brought a little light into your lives, wherever you are.

ZOE CRICK: But that's all we have time for right now, so until next time: stay safe out there, everyone.

ALL: Stay safe out there!

[paper rustles]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [clears throat] The names for tonight: Olivia Bore, Joseph Cates, Hailey Corlitt, Fay Corney, John Crips, Christina Decker, Peter Grier, Odelle Kennan, Duncan Knox, Alexander Lassiter, Sonja Liggens, Jared Little, Anita Little, Bertram Lund, Finn McDonald, Danielle Onstadt, Dale Platt, Marguerite Robicheau, Gillian Scoville, Lucien Siba, Omar Sip, Louise Stockhard, Marty Stockhard, Katherine Williamson, Sigrid Witter. May they all find peace. We return shortly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And now, a moment of silence in which to remember all of those we've lost. Let us give special thought to those out there who knew today's interred.

[silence]

[door opens]

EUGENE WOODS: Oh, hi, Phil! I, uh... sorry, uh...

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Shh.

[silence]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [whispers] In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, amen. [out loud] Sorry, Eugene. Can't sleep? Want to sit down.

EUGENE WOODS: Yeah. Thanks.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No problem. We're about to go for a break anyway. Listeners, we'll return shortly.

EUGENE WOODS: So you do this every night?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Unless I'm ill or there's an emergency or something, yeah.

EUGENE WOODS: And the names?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, the cleanup crew make sure to check for I.D.s or anything before the burial. I asked them to start keeping a list.

EUGENE WOODS: That's... that's very kind, Phil. Why do you do it on your own?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I don't know. It felt right, I suppose, and I wasn't really sure Zoe would understand.

EUGENE WOODS: I don't know. She puts up a tough front, but -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - she's a softie, really. Yeah, yeah, I know. Still, felt like something I should do on my own. [laughs] Uh, my granny used to tell me how she waited for my granddad to come home. All those weeks waiting, not knowing if it would be him knocking at the door or if it would be a letter from the Army. She said not knowing was the worst thing.

When I started doing the radio, I thought, you know, if only there'd been a man on the radio for my gran. We can't send letters anymore, but I thought for the people we know are gone, we can do this. Because knowing is better than not.

EUGENE WOODS: I... yeah. Yeah, I suppose it is.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Would you like a cup of tea?

EUGENE WOODS: That'd be nice, thanks.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No problem. Here's a song while they brew up.

[PHIL CHEESEMAN snores]

EUGENE WOODS: [slurps tea, sighs] Hm. Oh. Oops. [laughs]

[PHIL CHEESEMAN snores]

EUGENE WOODS: [sighs] Good morning, guys. Afraid it's just me right now. Phil's asleep, and uh, well, I'm not sure where everyone else is. [clears throat] It's nice to have some peace, to be honest.

One of the things about the apocalypse – one of the things you don't think about before it happens – is how hard it is to get your own space. You're living in each other's pockets, sharing a bathroom with dozens of other people. You can't go off anywhere in case you get, you know, eaten. [laughs]

But I guess you have to take pleasure in the small things, sometimes. So I'm going to sit here with the sun coming up, trying to ignore Phil's alarmingly heavy breathing, and enjoy this cup of tea.

[PHIL CHEESEMAN snores]

ZOE CRICK: [indistinct conversation from outside of the room] It took me a while to get used to it, as well, but you'll soon learn the layout. I once got lost trying to find a bathroom, somehow ended up on the other side of the castle, [laughs] locked in a pantry! [JACK HOLDEN laughs] Oh, here we are.

[door opens]

JACK HOLDEN: Ah, home away from home sweet home. Aw, hey, Gene! I was wondering where you'd got to.

EUGENE WOODS: Shh! [whispers] Phil's sleeping!

JACK HOLDEN: Oh! Oh. [laughs]

ZOE CRICK: Oh God. Again? The amount of times I find him sleeping up here, you'd swear he didn't have a bed to go to.

JACK HOLDEN: Shove up a bit.

EUGENE WOODS: All right, all right.

ZOE CRICK: [quietly] Phil. Phil! Wakey-wakey! [out loud] Oh, for God's sake. Phil!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [jolts awake] Good - good rise, ci-ti-zens! It's time for morning and shine here on Radio Cabel!

[others laugh]

ZOE CRICK: You're a true pro, Phil. Come on. Let's give you some time to wake up, eh? Listeners, your normal programming will resume shortly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [mutters] Tea.

ZOE CRICK: All right, and we're back! How are you feeling, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [yawns] Oh, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Thanks, Zoe. You're not normally up this early.

ZOE CRICK: No. I promised to show Jack the ropes in the breakfast line.

EUGENE WOODS: Ah, getting the grand tour without me, eh, Jacky boy?

JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, well, we couldn't find you. Sorry.

EUGENE WOODS: Hey, no problem. I was enjoying a nice cup of tea with Sleeping Beauty here. Any insider tips for the New Canton resident?

JACK HOLDEN: Ah, well, you know how in Abel, you have to get lottery tickets for laundry and showers and stuff?

EUGENE WOODS: I remember the smell in the shower

JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, well here, it's all divided by where you live, and you get to do laundry and showering and stuff according to that.

EUGENE WOODS: Okay, I see how that could work. When's our next day?

JACK HOLDEN: Uh, well, we're in Unit 15, so um... Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: A week on Thursday.

JACK HOLDEN: Oh.

EUGENE WOODS: Great.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, don't worry, Eugene. I've  been keeping something to one side for this very occasion.

ZOE CRICK: Clean socks?

EUGENE WOODS: Deoderant.

JACK HOLDEN: Febreze? ... what? It's an effective solution to certain hygiene issues.

EUGENE WOODS: No comment.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But no, it's none of those. What I do have is this tub of Vicks VapoRub.

JACK HOLDEN: Phil! I did not take you for a raver, you sneaky beast.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What?

JACK HOLDEN: Oh. Uh, nothing.

EUGENE WOODS: I'm not sure I see how this is going to be useful.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, Eugene, I'm glad you asked. You see, all you need to do is take a little bit of the stuff and rub it just under your nose.

EUGENE WOODS: ... okay...

PHIL CHEESEMAN: See? Now you can't smell anything. [sniffs]

EUGENE WOODS: Oh God. My eyes are watering. Oh God, this is strong stuff, Phil. Ow, ow, wow, wow. This is powerful.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, um... sorry. You might want to wipe that off, then. But trust me, once it gets muggy in those bedrooms, you'll be glad of a bit of menthol.

EUGENE WOODS: I'll take your word for it. Okay, listeners, we're going to send you off for a song while I get this stuff off my lip.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Back soon, guys.

EUGENE WOOD: So, I tell a story -

JACK HOLDEN: No no no, you tell two stories, one true, and one false.

ZOE CRICK: And then we all guess which is which.

JACK HOLDEN: Right, right. And if you get it wrong -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We drink some cider.

EUGENE WOODS: And why can't we just drink cider anyways?

JACK HOLDEN: Because this is more fun, Eugene. Come on!

EUGENE WOODS: Fine, fine. Okay, who goes first, then?

JACK HOLDEN: Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No. Uh, I mean, uh, why don't you go first and show us how it's done?

JACK HOLDEN: [sighs] Fine! Okay. So, um... [whispers] sorry, I need to think of a story. Uh, story... Uh, okay, story. Here we go. [clears throat] So, I have been arrested -

ZOE CRICK: Truth.

JACK HOLDEN: Ha ha ha. No, no, I've been arrested. Was it either for a) being naked in the town hall, or b) stealing a bottle of wine from an off-license?

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. Okay, let's figure it out. You probably would have got off with a caution for public indecency, but not for stealing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You seem to know a lot about this, Zoe.

ZOE CRICK: You haven't heard my stories yet, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, all right. So it's probably A, right? Jack's never been to prison, have you, Jack?

EUGENE WOODS: It's B.

ZOE CRICK: You sure?

JACK HOLDEN: No no no, don't listen to him!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Ah, you've let it slip. Eugene's sure to know all this stuff. It's B. I choose B!

ZOE CRICK: Okay, B.

JACK HOLDEN: Nope! It was A.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What?

JACK HOLDEN: Everyone drink!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's a gyp. Eugene was so certain.

EUGENE WOODS: Oh no, I knew it was A. I just wanted to drink some cider.

JACK HOLDEN: Speaking of which, drink up, everyone. Forfeit's for stalling in my game.

JACK HOLDEN: Okay, Zoe's turn.

ZOE CRICK: Oh God. Okay, okay, um... okay, so. Story one: I have broken so many bones that my local hospital has enough X-rays to make up a complete X-ray version of me. Story two: I have never been admitted to hospital.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, definitely one. Zoe is super super clumsy.

EUGENE WOODS: I don't know, that's a lot of broken bones. But then, it's also hard to believe that you've never been to hospital.

JACK HOLDEN: Well, my uncle was like 70 and he's always said he'd never been admitted to hospital.

EUGENE WOODS: Your uncle is also an inveterate liar, Jack.

JACK HOLDEN: Oh... oh yeah, yeah. Um... whatever. Story one is true. That's my guess.

EUGENE WOODS: You're so wrong. Story two.

ZOE CRICK: Phil? What's your poison?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh God, I don't know. [sighs] On one hand, my first thought was story one, but then maybe it's two, and... okay, yup. Two, two, two. It's two.

ZOE CRICK: Wrong! I was a very clumsy child.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Damn! This game is going to kill my liver.

[ZOE CRICK laughs]

JACK HOLDEN: Hey, you're the one that made the cider, buddy.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. It's your own fault, Phil, for giving us such encouragement. Now get drinking.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right. Seems I can't seem to pick the right thing, and I don't want to die from booze, I think it's my turn to tell some, um... uh, to... stories.

EUGENE WOODS: Yep, yep.

JACK HOLDEN: The floor is yours, Philip.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, I like that!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right, right, right. Okay, okay. Uh, story one: I am the reigning world champion at the game Donkey Kong... Junior. Story two: when I was a baby, I was the face of a popular brand of toilet tissue.

ZOE CRICK: Two.

JACK HOLDEN: Yup.

EUGENE WOODS: Has to be.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wait, don't you want to have a chat, or...

ZOE CRICK: Nope. Definitely two.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Bugger. Fine, yeah.

EUGENE WOODS: What can we say, Phil? It's just clear you were a very, very cute baby.

JACK HOLDEN: Hey, hey, wait, wait, now you have to drink, because we all got it right, and we're the best, and you suck!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Seriously?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah. It's the rules.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This game is the worst.

ZOE CRICK: I'm really not sure.

JACK HOLDEN: Oh, come on, Zoe! It'll be fun!

ZOE CRICK: It's not exactly my idea of a relaxing getaway.

JACK HOLDEN: Well sure, we'll be working, sort of, but still -

EUGENE WOODS: It'll be nice to get out, have an adventure, meet some new people, see some new places -

ZOE CRICK: Like the inside of a zom's stomach?

EUGENE WOODS: We'll have protection.

ZOE CRICK: Forgive me if I don't have much faith in the ministry's goons. They can't even land a bloody helicopter properly.

EUGENE WOODS: Hey, to be fair, I think that was a mechanical failure.

JACK HOLDEN: Smoke monster.

EUGENE WOODS: Mechanical smoke monster failure, right.

ZOE CRICK: Still. How do we know they'll keep us safe?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We don't.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, I mean, we don't know it for sure, but listen. We can stay here for the rest of our lives, staring out at the world, straining to hear whatever scraps of news come our way until we starve, or die of old age, or zoms break through the walls, or whatever.

Or we can take the Ministry up on their kind offer, roll out the gates in that van, tour the country raising morale, find out how people are living out there, and spread the good word. We can survive stuck in here, or we can go out and live out there.

JACK HOLDEN: I think I'm going to cry.

EUGENE WOODS: That was a very rousing speech, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Thanks, Gene.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, bloody hell.

JACK HOLDEN: Are you in? You're in, aren't you? Yes! She's in! [laughs] [sings] "We're all going on a zombie holiday. No more sitting in this stupid room."

ZOE CRICK: I already regret this decision. [laughs]

EUGENE WOODS: So, it's decided, then.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yup.

EUGENE WOODS: We're going for it.

JACK HOLDEN: We are actually bloody going for it.

ZOE CRICK: I guess we are. Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.

EUGENE WOODS: It's decided, then!

ZOE CRICK: It's decided.

EUGENE WOODS: Cool!

JACK HOLDEN: Cool, cool, cool!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Torch.

ZOE CRICK: Check.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Spare batteries for torch.

ZOE CRICK: Uh, you're kidding, right? Spares?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [laughs] I know. Nice one, Mister "CDC Emergency Preparedness Plan." What are we, made of batteries?

ZOE CRICK: "Pleased to meet you, dear chap. Mister Pennyfeather Cornelius Rockefeller at your service. Here, have some batteries. No, no, I insist. They're spares." [sighs] That was a bit of a long walk, wasn't it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. Just a bit. Anyway, the torch is one of those windup doofers.

ZOE CRICK: All right, what's next?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Thermal blankets.

ZOE CRICK: Pair of old rugs, check.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Tinned food?

ZOE CRICK: Hunting knife and trapping cord, check.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Bottled water.

ZOE CRICK: Having lived like this for bloody ages and knowing how to clean your own water, check.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay. Last one: "Though we do not condone violence in any situation, it would be wise to have something with which to defend yourself."

[weapons clatter]

ZOE CRICK: Check.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: My God, Zoe, that's... that's a lot of weapons. Is that a machete?

ZOE CRICK: Runner Sixty-Two owed me some favors.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I thought you were the non-violent type.

ZOE CRICK: Well, you know what they say: better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, yes, but this looks like you're planning an armed coup in a Central American state.

ZOE CRICK: Viva la revolución!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Quite. Ooh, can I take the ax.

ZOE CRICK: But that's my favorite!

EUGENE WOODS: [clears throat] All righty, what's on the list?

[paper rustles]

JACK HOLDEN: Spare jumpers.

EUGENE WOODS: Check.

JACK HOLDEN: Bobblehead dog from that insurance advert.

EUGENE WOODS: Check.

JACK HOLDEN: Flappy hat.

EUGENE WOODS: Check.

JACK HOLDEN: Sword.

EUGENE WOODS: Check.

JACK HOLDEN: Sir Geoffrey the cricket bat.

EUGENE WOODS: Check.

JACK HOLDEN: Swanny the cricket ball.

EUGENE WOODS: Check.

JACK HOLDEN: No Pun Intended.

EUGENE WOODS: Oh God, not that, please.

JACK HOLDEN: Oh, come on! Look, you know it's dear to my heart. I had to trade my flick knife for this. You remember, with that girl in that hotel.

EUGENE WOODS: I remember Ashley, Jack, but that doesn't mean I like the jokes.

JACK HOLDEN: Look, I'm still packing it.

EUGENE WOODS: Fine, whatever. What's next?

JACK HOLDEN: A hug.

EUGENE WOODS: You are such a softy! Aw, come here.

[JACK HOLDEN and EUGENE WOODS hug]

EUGENE WOODS: So it's north to start with?

ZOE CRICK: Yup. Until we hit this settlement here.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: They're going to take us in?

ZOE CRICK: Mm, the Ministry says they've agreed to resupply us and let us shelter there for a couple of nights.

JACK HOLDEN: Well, that's nice of them.

ZOE CRICK: I imagine they're getting something in return. Increased patrols, medicine. Hell, even just food.

EUGENE WOODS: I had no idea we were so important.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, we are post-apocalypse Britain's flagship light entertainment and informational broadcast.

JACK HOLDEN: Fancy. You just made that up, didn't you?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, not just.

ZOE CRICK: Moving on. After that, we'll head east northeast for a while. The Ministry's keen that we include some coastal settlements on the tour.

EUGENE WOODS: Must want to make sure they hold up until trade routes can be restored.

JACK HOLDEN: Either that, or they want to make sure we get nice tans.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: On a British beach?

JACK HOLDEN: All right. Either that, or they want to make sure we get bitten to death by midges.

ZOE CRICK: Sounds about right. And after that, well, they've told us we'll receive further instruction en route.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Sounds like a plan to me.

EUGENE WOODS: So what do we do now?

ZOE CRICK: Now we wait for the green light.

JACK HOLDEN: All right. So, music it is.

#zombies run #zrs3 #s3 radio #s3 radio part 2 #zr transcript