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mutable-manifestation · 1 year

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The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) Ch.22

Part 1-12,Part 13,Part 14,Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21

Part 22!

***

Jason knows Danny is letting him keep the lead - he’d seen how effortless it had been for the guy to outpace him before - but the ‘race’ is fun, anyway.

It’s less fun when he realizes Danny is giving him a bit of a lead while he is rapidly approaching a location with two complete strangers.

Not that all of his kidnappers hadn’t been relatively polite so far, but if you flip enough coins you’re bound to get tails eventually.

He glides to a stop just before the corner to the dining room doors and looks back to wait for Danny.

“Nervous?” he asks as he slows, (mis)understanding in his eyes. “Don’t be, they’re gonna love you.”

He smiles, wide and reassuring, and wow is the whole ‘this a forcible adoption’ thing is looking more likely. Which: what???

Asking Danny would be incredibly awkward if he’s wrong, and Wulf probably reports everything he does back to the guy so he’s out as well.

He’ll ask Elle or Jazz about it next time he sees them, he decides - he doubts he’ll find a way out of here before then.

Danny waits to let him take the lead, so he eventually floats out from behind the corner to approach the second couple he’s met waiting by the dining room doors.

Both of them share the same white hair and green eyes as Danny and Elle, and both look a year or two older than Danny, but that’s where the similarities stop.

The girl’s - Sam’s - skin is a pale, mint green color.

A lavender dress stretches from the base of her neck to mid-thigh, both ends having a jagged cut that makes him think of the leaves of the tower-tree. The dress sits under a deep black jacket a tad longer than the skirt. Matching black leggings lead to yet more bright lavender in the form of combat boots.

Platform combat boots.

Except the platform appears to be made of spikes.

If not for the fact that everyone seemed to prefer floating - even himself, by this point - Jason would fear for the floor.

The boy - Tucker - is back in normal human skin color territory at a medium brown. If you ignore the glow.

He wears a sky-blue long sleeved shirt and snow-white cargo pants - both trimmed in gold. Jason only knows his hair color from the small bit that peeks out from beneath his hat: a long, black beanie that drapes over either shoulder - also trimmed in gold. Strappy sandals take the place of shoes on his feet - the near polar-opposite of Sam’s footwear.

Both perk up from where they’d been whispering to each other as they catch sight of him and Danny, Tucker waving exuberantly while Sam shakes her head in amusement.

“Hey! You must be Jason,” Tucker smiles, lowering his arm as they float into a more conversational distance, Danny moving to peck Sam on the cheek and wrap the tip of his - ‘Are his legs gone, is that a tail? What?’ Jason mentally screeches - tail around Tucker’s waist.

“Or should I say… Jay-SON.” Tucker winked and made real, actual finger guns at that.

Well. That’s another point for the weird adoption theory.

Sam sighs, eyes rolling - fondly, judging by the contrasting smile.

“Ignore him. He died in the middle of a brain fart and it’s been going ever since.”

‘Died?’ Jason thinks, anxiety shuddering back to life from where it had finally begun settling down.

“Hey!” Tucker yells in mock-offense.

Sam and Danny chuckle.

“Anyway,” Tucker shakes his head, “Nice to meet you. I’m Tucker Phantom. The T ‘Ph,’ the Too Phine, husband to these two solid 10’s, the Ghost King 2: Electric Boogaloo himself.”

He points to Sam and Danny, then ends his little introduction with a dramatic bow. All Jason can focus on is the ‘Ghost King’ bit.

Sam picks up where he leaves off.

“Sam Phantom, Ghost Queen and wife to these two chuckleheads.”

Jason can no longer contain his questions, panic mounting.

“Ghost King & Queen!?” he shrieks, voice hitting a pitch he’d forgotten he could achieve when he was actually 15. “Wait- wait, you said King 2; DANNY is KING ONE!?”

The Tucker and Sam exchange looks before turning to Danny.

“Did you seriously forget to mention that you were High King of the Infinite Realms?” They chorus.

“Ah,” Danny scratches the back of his neck, “I guess so? My bad.”

Sam and Tucker double over cackling.

“Dude,” Tucker says, “How do you forget to mention that?”

“It’s not like it was relevant!” Danny’s cheeks puff out.

“Yeah, no big deal,” Sam teases, “‘Oh yeah, forgot to mention I’m the high king of the afterlife and all the dead bow to me, lolz.’”

“Wait, wait. Wait no,” Jason interrupts, terror lurching in his chest as he processes the lack of denial. “What do you mean dead and. And ghosts, I thought you were fae and- and why do I look like this? Did you KILL ME!?”

He hovers higher into the air - further away - anger and fear and denial and betrayal forming a roiling pit in his stomach.

(I can’t be dead I can’t be dead I’m NOT dead not dead notdeadnotdeadnotdead-)

“WHAT!? NO!” Danny’s reply is immediate, all three staring at him in wide-eyed shock and slowly creeping concern. “You’re a halfa! Like me! I explained this when you were in the healing tube back at the Far Frozen, don’t you remember?”

“NO! I DON’T REMEMBER! I COULDN’T HEAR ANYTHING IN THERE. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?”

“Man, I forgot how much human hearing sucked,” Tucker blinks.

Sam smacks his shoulder, hissing “Not the time!”

Jason takes heaving breaths, staunchly ignoring the wet sensations on his face in favor of glaring at Danny as he approaches, floating slowly, hands splayed in a gesture of peace.

“Jason, you’re no more dead now than you were when I found you.”

His voice is calm but firm. Factual and gentle at once. Jason can’t help but feel a bit safer.

He hates it.

“I’m sorry to have scared you,” he continues, “I should’ve sat down to talk with you when we first got back, but I let myself get distracted. That’s on me, and I am so, so sorry. But I promise I’ll explain everything-”

“Like I’m supposed to believe a kidnapper,” Jason cuts him off bitterly, resolutely ignoring the honesty he’d gotten so far.

“Wha-kidnapper? I’ve never kidnapped anybody!”

“Right,” Jason scoffs, drifting further away from them, “So I’m not kidnapped and unable to leave. And Wulf is actually my bodyguard and not just more anti-escape measures dressed up as someone who's meant to help me to lure me into a false sense of security.”

Sam stares at him, jaw dropped. Tucker is the same until he breaks the expression to turn to Danny, who also is in a similar state - though more heavily tinged by despair.

“Dude.”

“No,” Danny starts, voice strained, expression mournful, “I am so sorry you thought that, but no. I explained all this when you were in the tube- but you couldn’t- you didn’t hear any of it- I thought you just never said anything because you were shy-”

Danny’s hands move to scrub at the back of his neck as he speaks, eyes distant. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Jason surreptitiously wipes his face.

“Okay,” Danny breathes out, eyes opening. “Okay. To start with - initially? Yeah, okay, to be fair you were - technically - kidnapped, since I kinda didn’t explain anything before dragging you Frostbite. But ONLY because you needed a doctor pronto if you wanted to stay not-increasingly-dead, especially when you were actively absorbing literal poison with no internal defenses and- and I’m rambling. That’s not the point. The point is, you were - and are - free to leave at any point-”

“Prove it,” Jason demands. “If I’m really free to leave, open a portal to Gotham.”

“I- okay. Alright, just. Here, Tucker has your phone ready - everyone’s numbers are pre-programmed in.”

Tucker pulls a phone out of one of his many pockets and tosses it to Danny. He catches it smoothly and holds it out to Jason, who looks at it suspiciously.

“You can call whenever you want - if you have more questions or just. Want to talk to someone about all this. Or for a portal back if you need or-” he grimaces “-want to visit. It should be able to take almost anything the living world can dish out, so if you’re worried about being tracked or something you can just. Toss it in a lake or something and fish it out whenever you want to use it. I’ll just- I’ll send a text. About…being a halfa. And everything.”

With that, he swipes a hand through the air, opening a portal and floating back to give him some distance.

Jason eyes the phone, then promptly floats by without it.

Danny doesn’t move to stop him.

He sticks his head through the portal.

On the other side is Clairemont St, the same alley Danny had found him in. He takes a moment to look over the dirty brick and rusty fire escape. It was every bit as trash-strewn as he remembered it.

The stars are out, he notes.

He hadn’t paid as much attention before, too eager for home and family and escape, but there must be a time difference between Gotham and Phantom Palace.

Halfway through the portal and no one’s moved to yank him back, even without the phone on him.

He pulls his head back out just in time to hear a harshly whispered “-outside of a damn medical center with an audience, Danny! And yes Frostbite counts as an audience! He’s a stranger to him!”

“I think he knows, Sam,” Tucker winces as he looks between the two.

Apparently they hadn’t noticed his return, Danny having floated back to the ground so that they were all well beneath him and the portal.

“It’s fine, Tuck,” Danny says, visibly drooping. “I deserve it for… for pulling a-” he swallows harshly “-a Vlad.”

He says the name with all the hatred and disdain of a vampire faced with sunlight.

Even Sam looks sympathetic at that.

“Danny-”

“I did Sam! He thought he couldn’t leave! He’s been here for over a week!” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “And now he distrusts me enough he has to, what, make sure I didn’t open a portal to the middle of a lava lake?”

“I hadn’t considered that, actually,” Jason says, causing the three to jolt and look at him guiltily.

“Ah,” Danny starts, floating up - still so slowly - to be closer to eye-level, once again holding out the phone . “Did you want this after all…?”

He takes a moment to look at Danny appraisingly, then snatches the phone up to dump in one of his many utility pouches before drifting closer to Sam and Tucker - away from the portal.

He stops at a conversational distance, looking back up at Danny - who blinks at him with a look of stark confusion.

“I believe you,” he explains, “For some reason. I’ll want to go back to Gotham later, but right now? I have questions. You have answers.”

“Yes!” Danny jolts to life, waving the portal out of existence to drop down to join them. “Right.”

Jason gestures at the dining room doors, “Might as well do this over dinner - assuming the food will continue its trend of not killing me?”

Danny makes a keening noise and covers his face with both hands.

“No,” comes the muffled answer. He lifts his head. “All of the food you’ve been offered has been and will continue to be perfectly safe for you to eat.”

“Great.”

With that, he leads the way into the dining room.

***

Guys. I figured it out. I cracked the code. Why Jason is so adoptable? It’s in the name. Ja’SON’!!! WAKE UP SHEEPLE (/j)

Anyways.

Miscommunication has finally been identified! Next chapter: Q&A!

Sam has her +10 years jacket that she got in my au a year before she died because that’s the one part of her redesign I really liked. Eyes/hair & colors are inverted because of Danny, but the dress resembles her green undergrowth dress & the shoes have spikes because that whole thing - and her own adoration of plants - also influenced her self-concept/assumptions about what she’d look like dead.

Tucker’s Eyes/hair & colors are inverted also because of Danny, but the gold trim, white pants (which would’ve been red), & longer beanie come from his self-concept being influenced by the whole ‘reincarnation of a pharaoh’ episode/memory.

@mayoota-blog1 @kyrianclawraith, @do3y, @someonebored0100 @omegasmileyface @a-star-with-a-human-name @akikoyuii @newgraywolf @tytythehistoryguy

#dpxdc #danny phantom #jason todd #ghost sam manson #ghost tucker foley #comedy horror of errors

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amononymous · 10 months

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I have moved sides and i am in need for Sanmos Fluff where they get bed ready after a hard day of work

lol hi Chamber!! Have this short fic then.

Idk what you mean by “get bed ready” but I’ll start assuming

All in a day’s work.

Sanford stretches as he lets his body relax after a hectic day at work. Setting his supplies down, he was just getting ready to knock out for the day.

If he lets his eyes seal shut for a tiny bit then the next thing he’ll expect is to snore on the ground.

“Deimos had already gone to bed huh?” Sanford thought. “That bozo was quick with it too.”

What awaited in front of him was their bedroom door. Heaving out a sigh he was mustering up, he slowly turned the knobs and let the door unveil itself as it opened.

“Sanford bud’, you’re finally back?” The croaky, yet breathy voice alerted Sanford. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Oh! Hey there…” Sanford said as he steadies himself through breathing. Sanford felt his heartbeat normalize as he started to sigh. “You’re up this late, chucklehead?”

“Well, what can I say? Today’s mission was tiring for sure.”

“But you’re not asleep?”

Deimos nods his head.

As Sanford starts putting his stuff down, letting the supplies let out a loud thud, echoing within their bedroom. He thought to himself.

Usually the first thing Sanford would’ve noticed is Deimos’ thundering snores. Seeing knocked out like a light. Seeing Deimos at his most peaceful state sends a soothing wave to Sanford. He could remember the smile he’d display unknowingly.

However, it seems Deimos was waiting for him. Could he have been wanting to do something with Sanford?

“Uh huh…” Sanford said. “Bud’ are you hinting that you wanna cuddle?”

“Cuddle? Sanford, how long have you known me?” Deimos chuckles. “Of course, I’ve been waiting.”

Sanford gave a comfortable smile, both parties had a blush on their face.

“You’ve been waiting eh?” Sanford sighed blissfully. “I get it, I get it. I’ll be there.”

As Sanford stood up, a smirk appeared on Deimos’ face. “Perfect, just what I needed! C’mere.”

The next thing they knew, they’re at peak tranquility. The exhaustion for the days at work have caught up towards them but the company of one another has soothes their body. The cloud in their head dissipates and Deimos, who is perfectly content, sinks into Sanford’s chest as he feels more cozy and secure.

Same can be said of Sanford, his smile speaks for his fluttering heart. Each beat resonates within Deimos’, it’s their harmony, their affection and love.

“Cozy?” Sanford asked.

“Yep, I feel my body melting already.” Deimos said, closing his eyes.

“Aha, if that’s the case then let’s sleep.”

In no other words, their eyes are shut and they remain still until their breathing slows. Even then, their heartbeats remained coordinated.

#fanfic #fanfiction #madcom #madness combat #deimos #sanford #sanmos #deiford #request #requests open #sanford x deimos #deimos x sanford

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cuddly-asexual · 8 months

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Traffic Light Trio Playlist

I'm back again with another playlist y'all! This time for our favorite trio of MK, Mei and Red Son!

Gonna be real at the time of posting this, it is mostly Mei songs (she just has such good vibes), but I got a good mix of stuff for all three I think. I'll update as I add stuff so feel free to come back and check.

red - Makes me think of an angsty au where Mei uses the Samadhi fire to defeat LBD but at the cost of burning up her soul.

Play the Chiptek - MEI SONG MEI SONG. THE ELECTRONICS THE GAME VIBE PERFECT FOR HER.

The Spark - Tell me this isn’t the most Mei song you’ve ever heard. I can picture her zipping around on her bike to this

火炎 - Mei samadhi fire time babey

On Fire - Red Son realizing he’s in love with these fools

NEXUS - First off, Promare au works so fucking well for these three and the soundtrack AOUGH perfect. I see this song specifically as a dragonfruit song.

Here Comes a Thought - Been sitting on an animatic idea for this too. But the idea is Mei losing control of her powers, being mad at Wukong for doing this to her, scared of possibly hurting her friends, etc. And MK and/or Red Son help her calm down. Then MK’s whole monkey biz in season 4 and Mei/Red Son helping him.

Ignite - More Mei samadhi fire songs babey. She’s boutta kick some ass

Sandbox - Playful MK song.

Nimble as Lightning - I think this works really well for the three of them as a unit. You even kinda have an instrument for all of them. MK with the flute, mei with the electronic synths and red son with the guitar

Lost in the Clouds - Da bois hanging out in the celestial realm, amongst the clouds

Eiji - Chill Mei and MK time. When everything is slow for a change. Maybe before MK found the staff.

The Dragon Boy - Or in this case the dragon girl >:)

Lose These Chuckleheads - Song for literally any of their car chases at any point in the series or beyond.

#monkie kid #lmk #lmk mei #lmk mk #lmk red son #lmk dragonfruit #lmk spicynoodles #lmk chimera #lmk goldendragon #music

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marinerainbow · 10 months

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This has got SUCH Poppy vibes XD Imagine a Poppy/Toon Patrol highschool AU!!!

(Of course, I'm not asking for headcanons if you don't want to- I'm just sharing! XDD )

Oh my god, this is absolutely correct 🤣🤣🤣 poor girl never signed up for her 'I can fix him' energy, it was put upon her! By me XD

I can imagine!!! Pops, like this picture says, is the quiet girl in the back just trying to get her school done, and now she's got these chuckleheads the teacher just dumped on her. Actually you know what? Real quick, let's go over these guys in an AU like this-

Poppy + Smartass: Smarty, being the self-appointed leader of this group of delinquents, being sat next to the quiet kid who's afraid of him was... Probably not the greatest decision on the teachers part 😅 Poppy is flinching everytime Smartass yells at his friends- who are all across the room from him, in their usual seats, where he wants to be- and Poppy is trying to just stay unassuming so she doesn't become a target of High-School anarchy these weasels bring. She wouldn't be able to make conversation, at least not right away XD

Poppy + Greasy: THIS WAS AN EVEN WORSE CHOICE THE TEACHER MADE! At least with Smartass, Poppy could get her work done since she was mostly left alone. But now she's got this kid leaning over to her, trying to be smooth- which he ain't- and get her number (or whatever you could give out in the 40's. Unless this is a modern Highschool AU?). Though maybe, if these two get more used to each other, they could actually work together in school?? Greasy's probably trying to cheat, and Poppy is insisting that they have to pass the test the 'honest way', but... Idk, I just like the idea of Poppy and Greasy being able to work together on the job- or in this case, school XD

Poppy + Wheezy: Finally! The quiet one! I mean he still kinda scares her, with his red eyes and imposing attitude (it's just a bad case of resting bitch face). But he doesn't yell and he isn't trying to be suave, so fine. She can work with this... She kinda actually wants to make conversation now, since he seems friendly enough. But he hasn't spoken to her so she's just keeping to herself for now. Meanwhile Wheezy is just enjoying the peace and quiet while he's seated next to her XD

Poppy + Psycho: ... Can she get the pink one again? This one is twirling his knife around and giggling dangerously. Similar to Greasy, Pops isn't going to be able to concentrate on her work- but here, she's worried about getting cut rather than kissed 😅 he's twitching and squirming because he doesn't like to stay still, not concentrating on what the teacher is saying, but now that he got put in the back he can get away with more shit! (Hc that the teacher would try seating Psycho in the front row so they can keep an eye on him because- you know why) so he doesn't mind sitting with this quiet rabbit too much.

(*cough* in the childhood friends AU, Poppy and Psycho would get seated in school together all the time. They want to sit next to each other since they make school more bearable for each other, and the teachers caught on that Poppy can make him behave himself better, and keeps him in class instead of running off doing lord knows what *cough*)

Poppy + Stupid: At first, having this giant weasel seated next to her scared her, but Poppy actually warmed up to him quickly! Sure he was slow and asked her a lot of questions while the teacher was lecturing the class, but he didn't seem to be so bad after all. And Poppy wouldn't mind helping him out with school. I can see these two becoming quick friends ^^ (which could lead to her and Smarty befriending each other since she's bonding with his brother ^^)

In general, Poppy would notice that not many students try to bother her when one of the weasels get seated next to her. And they mostly leave her alone as long as she gives them space (save for Greasy), So at least there's that XD (dear lord, imagine ALL the weasels somehow getting seated next/near her).

Thank you so much for sending this ask! It was cute ^^ if you've got anything you want to add onto this, I'd love to hear it! ^^

#WFRR #Who Framed Roger Rabbit #Poppy #my own characters #my own OC's #Toon Patrol #Smartass Weasel #Stupid Weasel #Psycho Weasel #Wheezy Weasel #Greasy Weasel #asks #Highschool AU #Disney #Disney Villains

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

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Could you write some more Schneiders in Stars Hollow?

(It isn't my fault that the line "Lenny was supposed to bring the matches" appears in Star Crossed Lovers and Other Strangers in season 1)

"Why did we never stay for the Firelight Festival before?"

"Because we always left right before Thanksgiving," Lenny responds. "We never stayed the whole year before."

"I had no idea it was so beautiful," Midge says, marveling at the decorations in the town square.

"You've had to much punch," Lenny chuckles, wrapping an arm around her.

"That punch is no joke," Midge warns him. "I thought the stuff at the B. Altman Christmas party was strong, but they don't fuck around here."

"Apparently."

She cuddles in against him. "Let's give up our very lucrative careers and retire and stay here all the time. We can torment Taylor until we die, and then haunt him after."

"God that sounds romantic," Lenny teases.

"Ooh, someone's had too much punch," Lorelai giggles as she steps up to them.

"We don't normally stay for the Firelight Festival," Lenny explains. "But since we're here the whole year this year..."

"Midge got into the founders day punch."

"And how," Lenny chuckles.

Midge gasps. "We were here one year! The- Two years ago, remember? We came back for this! for the night! We had a night free and we came back, and then- they asked you to bring the matches and you forgot."

"On purpose," Lenny adds, chuckling.

"Lenny," Lorelai admonishes playfully.

"It was a good gag," Lenny defends. "Watching all the chuckleheads who've never smoked a cigarette or a joint before scramble for some kind of match or lighter. Harry and Taylor punched each other over it! I did that."

"I married a funny man," Midge grins proudly.

"Yes, you did," Lorelai giggles.

"Luke gave me free coffee the whole night that night," Lenny boasts.

"Yes, he did," Midge confirms.

Lorelai giggles. "They didn't ask you to bring the matches this year, did they?" Lorelai asks.

"Never again," Lenny confirms.

Lorelai laughs more and smiles at them. "It's been really great, having you guys here the whole year."

"Yeah, I didn't know if we'd like it," Midge admits. "We're such city people, but it's been fun."

"Our kids are furious," Lenny chuckles. "Really mad that we missed Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, but they all survived without us."

"Having everyone over for Latkes was fun," Midge beams.

"You almost burned down the house, and melted your pretty fingers off in hot oil," Lenny points out.

"In a fun way," Lorelai interjects. "That was fun."

"Yeah," Lenny agrees. "Who knows. Maybe we'll get old enough to slow down completely and just stay here one day."

"The kids would kill us," Midge comments. "But it'd be nice....I want more punch."

"No you don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not carrying you home."

Midge pouts and looks to Lorelai. "He never carries me."

"You're a strong young woman, you've got legs," Lenny reminds her.

"He's been saying that for decades."

They stand in silence for a long moment, watching the fire and Lorelai takes a breath, looking to the couple.

"You know, this festival makes everyone super sappy and romantic," she comments. "And every year, I find myself alone when it happens."

Midge smiles at her and takes her hand, patting it gently. "I know it's hard to be patient. Especially when things like this pop up and it's just...everywhere. I've been there."

Lorelai looks confused. "When?"

"On an impromptu trip to Paris in 1959," she explains. "There was this bridge...the uh...the Pont des Arts! And I'm walking at night, and I'm just...surrounded by all of these couples, holding each other and kissing...and I was alone. Joel had broken my heart - again - Lenny wasn't an option yet, and I was miserable."

"So what did you do?" Lorelai asks.

Midge shrugs. "I kept moving forward. Things always turn around, Lorelai. Keep trying, and keep moving forward."

"What're we talkin' about?" Luke asks, stepping up to them.

"Sappy romance stuff," Lenny tells him. "And that one time Midge's mother ran away to Paris and no one noticed for two weeks and they found her living in a one room apartment with a broken chair, no toilet and a tiny dog."

"Luke will you get me more punch?" Midge asks.

"That stuff will kill you," Luke says automatically.

Midge snorts. "Oh please, Sophie Lennon once tried to brain me with a Grammy award, I'm invincible."

"If I get you more founder's day party punch will you tell that story?" Lorelai asks, looking mystified.

"Yes I will."

Lorelai dashes off.

"Dammit," Lenny grumbles. "Now I really am gonna have to carry her home."

#fic #au #tmmm #Midge/Lenny #Midge x Lenny #The Schneiders of Stars Hollow #Gilmore Girls #Lorelai Gilmore #Luke Danes

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part Two)

This movie is fuckin’ hilarious, and it’s 77 years old!

The Three Caballeros came out this year, Mount Vesuvius erupted again, the...Holocaust was still happening, fuck, right, World War II. Um...yeah, I’m sure this movie provided some MUCH needed humor for American audiences.

I will say, the play for this film came out in 1941, and was MASSIVELY popular. Apparently, the stage play is just as funny, and I would absolutely love to see it in theatres one day, if it ever comes back. Anyway, the film trailers actually used the popularity of the play to market the film, which was also received very well!

And honestly...I don’t know if I can disagree. We’ll see, I guess! On with the show! Check out Part One of the Recap right here!

Recap (2/2)

So, who’s our mysterious scarred visitor and his friend?

The man strides into the place, calling it his childhood home. Abby and Martha, startled, ask who he is. It’s their long lost nephew Jonathan Brewster (Raymond Massey), and his alcoholic plastic surgeon and accomplice, Dr. Herman Einstein (Peter Lorre). Damn, Peter Lorre’s in this movie? Well, holy shit!

Well, they don’t recognize him because of Einstein’s work. That’s because he looks like Frankenstein, and the good alcoholic doctor may have been that film and had a bit too much to drink during the surgery. They plan on fixing that...in the basement, where Teddy’s still digging “the lock” for the Panama Canal. They also have another problem: a body in their car. Apparently, somebody insulted Jonathan by saying he looked like Boris Karloff. Which, to be fair...

As they’re trying to figure out where to put the body, Einstein becomes aware of the hole in the basement, unaware that it’s being dug for a body. The two plan on bringing their body there...even though there’s already a body that needs to go in there. Jesus, this entire family is FUCKED. Some misadventures lead to Jonathan and Einstein bringing the body in through the window, and into the cellar, next to the aunt’s grandfather’s laboratory. Oh, uh, their grandfather had a laboratory, by the way. This family is FUUUUUUUUUUUCKED.

As Jonathan and Einstein stumble in the darkness, we see them carry a body down to the cellar. But wait...no, they bring him in through the window, right after Einstein falls into the window seat, which is...empty...ohhhhhh. Guess the Panama Canal’s full again. And as these two are trying to get their body in, somebody knocks on the door. And oh fuck, it’s Elaine!

Elaine’s now coming to find Mortimer, or the two aunts. Instead, she runs into these two murderous chuckleheads. She’s aware of Jonathan’s identity from past conversations with the aunts, and his presence seems to explain the strange goings on that day. As they apprehend her, believing her to be dangerous to their enterprises, they kidnap her and bring her into the cellar. Just then, the two aunts come out in funerary grieves, questioning the screaming from downstairs. Elaine escapes from Einstein, only for Mortimer to finally arrive with the sanitarium folks. Dear Lord, that’s a lot.

Jonathan proves his identity by stating their past as children, during which he shoved needles underneath his fingernails in his sleep JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK DID HE SAY THIS FAMILY IS FUCKED

By the way, we are an hour in, and this movie is fuckin’ BUMPING. It’s a LOT, and I love every second of it. Anyway, after much His Girl Friday fast banter from Mortimer, Elaine is absolutely FINISHED. Flabbergasted by Mortimer’s negligence of her near murder by Jonathan, she storms off and renounces their marriage (understandably). Mortimer hasn’t quite caught on, but he now has another concern: to get Teddy committed, he must get a signature by a doctor.

Not sure what to do, he sits on the window seat and thinks. He checks in on Mr. Hoskins...only to find Jonathan’s murder victim there instead! Egads, there’s another one!

He immediately blames the aunts, and talks to Aunt Abby about the body. But she doesn’t recognize him, and calls him an impostor! She refuses to hold the funeral services for a total stranger. He accuses her of lying, and she’s upset that she would accuse him of telling a fib! The nerve! I love this movie. Jonathan, intent to stay at the house permanently, comes down to kick Mortimer out, and Mortimer returns the sentiment. But when the aunts come out to look at the strange body, BOTH of the brothers run to the window seat! Mortimer figures out that the body is Jonathan’s doing, and the look he gives him is goddamn hilarious.

Mortimer now has the leverage he needs to kick Jonathan out, and threatens to call the police on him. And JUST THEN, Officer O’Hara shows up! He’s simply come in to check on the couple, and is about to leave when he realizes that Mortimer is an author, and asks if he’d like to read his screenplay. He agrees, and tells Jonathan that he will keep the cop busy IF Jonathan and the doctor leave with their body.

Jonathan is intent on coming back here, after dumping the body in the harbor. But just before they do that, Einstein finds the body of r. Hoskins in the cellar! Fuck, there goes Mortimer’s advantage. And as negotiations are about to continue between the brothers, O’Hara comes in, only for Mortimer to rush him out. Mortimer goes off himself, warning Jonathan once again to be gone.

Jonathan at first believes Mortimer to be the murder, only to quickly learn that the aunts’ past deeds, to his own actual surprise. This also greatly amuses Einstein, who notes that his aunts’ record is tied with Jonathan’s, in terms of murder. This awakens Jonathan’s competitive nature, and he decides that he needs to kill one more person to beat his aunts once and for all. Meanwhile, Mortimer arrives with Dr. Gilchrist (Chester Clute), just as the aunts are holding their service for Mr. Hoskins. He brings Teddy out to him, and this would appear to settle the matter. He finally goes to Elaine, who’s still quite upset (understandably). And that’s not made worse by the fact that he breaks off their marriage. Why? Well...

That’s actually a great line. And decent rationale, because Mortimer’s come to realize that mental illness runs in his family, and he’s afraid that he may one day be afflicted. But, he can’t resist Elaine, and the two kiss passionately...which is interrupted by Dr. Gilchrist, the new Ambassador of Bolivia (according to Teddy). He agrees to sign the papers, and a frustrated Elaine slams the window on Mortimer’s fingers (understandably).

Mortimer goes back to the house, finding his aunts upset by the fact that Jonathan is burying his victim (a “foreigner”, according to the aunts) in the same grave as Mr. Hoskins, which upsets them greatly. He promises to take care of that, before they go to the police! Downstairs, Jonathan sets his sights on killing Mortimer, and plans on doing it slowly at that! But Einstein’s tired of all of this, and actually tries to get Mortimer to leave, for his OWN safety at this point.

Mortimer’s not listening, despite Einstein’s actually good intentions for once. Instead, Mortimer makes a speech about a play he’d seen about a man in a house full of murderers, who refuses to leave, waiting to be trussed up and gagged. He sits down with his back toward the murderer, but never turns around. And as he mocks the typical protagonist of movies or plays like this...well...he was right.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I love this movie, and it’s funny as shit. Jonathan’s got Mortimer now, and he’s planning on killing him slow and painfully. Unhappy at seeing the whole affair, Einstein goes through his supply of alcohol. Jonathan forces him to do this procedure, but Einstein can’t possibly do it without a drink! They grab the elderberry wine from before, and JUST as they’re about to take a drink, Teddy interrupts with his bugle, causing them to spill the wine!

And THEN, O’Hara comes back, and sees Mortimer tied up. Einstein fuckin’ nat 20′s on his Bluff check, and tells O’Hara that Mortimer’s simply re-enacting a play for them, and he believes it! Mortimer asks him to untie him...but now he has an actual captive audience, O’Hara instead tells him about his play.

THIS MOVIE IS FUNNY AS SHIT

Mortimer’s listening, unwillingly, and reacting through his gag, and it’s fuckin’ funny as FUCK, dude. Just then, Jonathan is about to kill the cop with a knife, but a fed-up Einstein knocks him out with a shoe! When O’Hara turns around, Einstein tells him that the play put him to sleep, and he AGAIN believes it, and he keeps going on about his play!

Just then, the OTHER cops come by, looking to warn the aunts that the neighbors are tired of the bugling by Teddy. Coincidentally, they find Jonathan there, and arrest him, as he’s VERY wanted. But he retaliates by telling the cops about the bodies in the cellar. As they’re about to go down there, Mortimer tries to stop them from doing so, still tied up. But they never get down there, as O’Hara says that Jonathan looks like Boris Karloff, which starts a fight between him and the three cops present.

Mortimer breaks free, and as the fight takes place, he’s just...he’s just done. He monologues to himself about this crazy-ass day, as the chaotic fight takes place in the background. And, again, FUCK ME IT’S FUNNY

The fight dies down, and Lieutenant Rooney (Jack Gleason) arrives. He reveals that Jonathan’s a wanted man, and also suspends O’Hara for being a dumbass and not reporting in for the entire night. He also berates the men for falling for Jonathan’s story about 13 bodies in the cellar. But just then, Teddy comes downstairs, and seemingly confirms it. However, they also ignore this statement, and Teddy comes willingly with them (believing that he’s going to interrogate Jonathan, a suspected spy.

Rooney goes to speak with Mortimer, and looks over the papers to commit Teddy. However, he signed the papers as Theodore Roosevelt, making them completely useless. AND JUST THEN, Dr. Witherspoon shows up to commit Teddy. Mortimer gets Teddy to sign with his real name, and tells him that Witherspoon is there to take him to Africa (AKA the Happy Dale Asylum).

Upon hearing this, the aunts are quite saddened. Rooney insists that Teddy has to go, though. And so, if Teddy’s going, well...they want to go, too! Mortimer definitely is all for this, but Witherspoon insists that they never take sane people at Happy Dale. Rooney also mocks this idea, and says that Teddy must go because he’s touting the idea that there are 13 bodies in the cellar. Which the aunts, uh...just straight-up admit.

Mortimer, realizing that they’re FUCKED, decides to distract Rooney by making himself appear insane, grabbing Teddy’s bugle and charging up the stairs in a show. Oh, and as this happens, Elaine is watching the WHOLE THING through the window. He manages to convince the men that the women are also in need of admittance, for their delusions. Mortimer also gets Dr. Einstein to sign the papers, just as he’s leaving. Meanwhile, Elaine makes her way into the cellar from the outside.

One more signature needed: next of kin, which is naturally Mortimer. But as Witherspoon leaves for a moment to help Teddy pack his things, Abby and Martha speak with Mortimer, worried about the signatures on the papers. They want to go to Happy Dale, but they’re worried that they’ll investigate the signatures, and find that Mortimer’s is a fraud. And why?

Because Mortimer’s not their next of kin.

He’s not a Brewster at all.

I fucking love this movie. Anyway, as Mortimer is (understandably) celebrating this discovery, a scream is heard from below as Elaine finds the bodies! She ALMOST blows the whole operation, but Mortimer intercepts her and literally stop her from talking by kissing her OUT OF THE HOUSE

And after that, the two finally reconcile, and they CHAAAAARGE off to their honeymoon. Which, by the way, also drives the cabbie insane. Yeah, dude’s been here the whole movie waiting for them to leave, and I haven’t mentioned it, because this movie is chock-full of jokes, and I legit didn’t have the time!

And, yeah; that’s Arsenic and Old Lace! And I find myself once again saying...I get it, Mom. I get why you like this movie. Hot damn. See you in the Review!

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buns-with-a-book · 4 years

Text

Flowers of White 3 - White Rose

Finale of Flowers of White, pretty much a short epilogue to 2. Inspired by Sync’s post here

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC, Nero, Dante, Vergil Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @queenmuzz @harlot-of-oblivion

Summary: The white rose is regarded as a flower of purity. It also denotes the worthiness of the giver to the receiver.

The van continued to ride down the road as Red Grave City almost ten hours away from Rothes. They had to do a quick pit-stop to the inn Cassandra had stayed at in the next town to grab her luggage and check out quickly (and Vergil grabbing some grab-and-go sandwiches for lunch). The Scottish highlands sped by as Nico drove, a couple bottles of chilled coffee sitting in the cup holders. Dante was being the ever helpful brother he was to Cassandra, even as her massive dress disagreed with her.

“I HATE THIS STUPID DRESS!” Cassandra snarled from frustration. Dante was standing in front of the van’s small bathroom, holding the door as he watched his sister struggle.

“I do too. It looks tacky.” Dante said dryly.

“You’re not the one trapped in it!” Cassandra snapped. “The bathroom’s too small and I can’t move!”

“I can cut it apart, if you trust me.” Vergil spoke up, watching as the tulle and silk shifted and twisted. Even from his position, just behind the passenger seat of the van, he could see the unwieldy dress.

“GREAT IDEA! Dante, you might wanna watch out!” There was the sound of ripping before, finally, a sigh of relief. “Good Earthmother almighty, that was a death trap!”

“So, you want a change of clothes?” Dante asked, holding onto a pair of new pajamas, a bright red set with various slices of pizza as the pattern, that he picked out before their arrival in Rothes. While Vergil normally would’ve objected to the gaudy set, he knew Cassandra would need something to cheer her up after they rescued her from the forced marriage.

“Is that pajamas?” Cassandra asked.

“Yep! They have pizzas on it.” There was a quiet at that before Cassandra began to laugh.

“Dante, don’t ever change.” Vergil could see shoes tossed out of the bathroom, followed by the ripped remains of the wedding dress. “Good thing I didn’t give two flying fucks about how expensive the dress is. I never wanted it on me anyway and I wasn’t going to curse some poor bride into wearing it.” Cassandra grabbed the pajamas and closed the bathroom door. After a few minutes, Cassandra stepped out of the bathroom in the pajamas. She kicked open the side door, ignoring Nico’s yell, and threw out silk and tulle and cloth flowers to be swept away by the wind to who knows where. Cassandra threw the veil and shoes out as well before she slammed the door shut. Grabbed the blanket, she set herself directly next to Vergil, wrapping the blanket around her.

“Are you hungry?” Vergil asked.

“You bet I am.” Cassandra huffed. Vergil silently handed one of the prepackaged sandwiches to her. She opened the package and scarfed down the food happily. Dante turned to Nero.

“Hey kid, I’m glad you’re safe.” Dante rested his hand on Nero’s shoulder. “And hey, you got a free tux outta it!”

“A free tux for his actual wedding, the only good thing out of this shitshow.” Cassandra hummed, watching as Nero looked away from embarrassment.

“Given what that asshole said to me, I don’t want to keep it.” Nero huffed.

“I’d burn it. But I’d rather burn anything Draco gave you.” Cassandra added. “I don’t want to think about what he did to you.”

“Hey Cass.” Nico glanced back to her. “What’s so bad about Eternis Brillia that made you go along with all this?” Cassandra bit her lip.

“Well...Eternis Brillia is similar to Fortuna. Instead of worshiping Sparda like some savior, they have their own saints that they revere. As the home of the Earthfaith, they feel like it is their duty to deter demonkind from coming back to the human world. Failing that...demons are killed on sight.” She looked to Nero. “If Draco hadn’t called me, I’m certain we…” Her voice failed but it didn’t need to be said.

“Even though Nero is only part demon?” Dante whispered.

“It doesn’t matter to them. You have demonic familiars that aid you? You’re a demon, you get axed. You’re part human, part demon? Still a demon, still axed. It’s...it’s scarily fanatical.” Cassandra shivered. “I said this to Nero and I’ll say it again: To them, a demon is a demon, no matter how diluted the blood. Shit, I almost forgot about it until this whole mess happened.”

“If I knew where Nero was, it would have been a far simpler affair to use Yamato’s powers to rescue him.” Vergil whispered, the guilt evident in his voice in failing to save his own son.

“Jeez, both of you beating each other up over me.” Nero groaned. Vergil and Cassandra stared at Nero. “Look, they jumped me. I saw them earlier during the mission where they got me but I thought they were just civilians until they fucking shot me.”

“They tranquilized you.” Cassandra whispered. “Then it wasn’t just a lucky coincidence on their part. You were a deliberate target. I should’ve realized that when Draco mentioned that they would’ve used V against me as well as Nero.” Vergil winced at the mention of his human half.

“Well, if he tries to mess with us again, we’ll just push back.” Dante grinned. “I can’t believe that guy had the gall to swing his shiny toothpick at me...”

“He’s a cowardly pile of shit.” Cassandra said, finishing her sandwich and tossing the remains in the trash. “I was just as surprised as you were that he thought he could do anything against you, much less try and intimidate you into surrendering.”

“Surrender? Dante? Perish the thought.” Vergil commented. “As for that pathetic excuse of a sword, I am not surprised that it shattered when it came in contact with Yamato.”

“I’m pretty sure it was decorative anyway, not meant for slaying demons. People like Draco, in Eternis Brillia, have no need of demon-slaying swords.” Cassandra added. “Not everyone has magic weapons that heed your call when you’re in danger.”

“People like Draco?” Nero asked. “You mean there’s more like that pompous jackass?”

“Considering he’s part of the wealthy of Eternis Brillia, he’s the worst of them. But that’s my bias talking, considering he was my childhood bully as well.”

“Yikes.” Nero grimaced at the thought. A quiet fell in the van, only broken by Nico’s driving. Nero stood up and went to the jukebox, pressing a button down. A smooth jazzy song began to play. Cassandra shifted to curl up closer to Vergil.

“Hey...Dante? Vergil? Thanks for everything.” She said softly. Dante smiled.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna let my sis sacrifice her happiness to marry some jerk she didn’t like.”

“I didn’t like him the first time we met. I still don’t like him now. And I doubt I ever will. For one thing, he put me in that gaudy ass dress that’s now on the side of the road.” She huffed. “Pink looks like crap on me.”

“I much prefer you in blue.” Vergil said dryly. Dante let out a laugh as Cassandra’s face burned up.

“Vergil!”

“Am I wrong?” He glanced to her, eyebrow raised. Cassandra let out a flustered noise.

“N-No but, jeez Dante’s really rubbing off on you.”

“It was his idea to crash the wedding, by the way.” Dante added. Cassandra looked up at him before shooting forward to peck his cheek. It was now Vergil’s turn to blush, hiding his face behind his book and ignoring Dante’s cackling and Nero facepalming.

“Alright you chucklehead, I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when we’re either getting dinner or we’re back in Red Grave.” Cassandra laid down, resting her head on Vergil’s lap. She glanced up, seeing Vergil smile from behind his book.

“Rest well, my rose.” He murmured, feeling his hand rest on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, drifting off to the slow jazz from the jukebox.

#devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry dante #devil may cry nero #devil may cry vergil #the happy ending

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reddielibrary · 5 years

Text

Riding Lynda Carter

Prompt: young eddie falling over and breaking his leg in the barrens and richie has to find a way to get him out and to a doctor

Written by: Alexis | @quixoticquest

Word Count: 4288

*click title to read on AO3

For the last twenty years since he had moved away from Derry, Richie had left a majority of his childhood crap at his folks’ place. There wasn’t any real purpose for it in LA. But recently he had an encounter with his past again, and the people in it. Now just seemed like as good a time as any to revisit those old keepsakes, go through what he wanted to donate, or keep.

Keep in preparation for moving in with his boyfriend, that is.

“Yikes, this inflatable pool has got to go,” Eddie stated, gripping the great rubber monstrosity with both hands, shielded by yellow gloves.

“Aw, why?” Richie whined, for no other reason than it was fun to be contrary. “That’ll make a great centerpiece for our dining room table. Just gotta find one big enough.”

Eddie trashed the pool, eyeing his boyfriend the whole way into the black garbage bag. Richie just smiled and carried on flipping through a box of pictures from some party or another.

“Hey, what’s this?” There were only so many things that Richie expected to find in his parents’ garage besides his dad’s tools and rat poop. Imagine his surprise when Eddie dragged a big hunk of old wood out from behind Went’s workbench. A set of rusty, crusted runners hooked under the cobweb covered slab, which meant it could only be one thing.

“Oh, shit. That.” Richie rushed over, tripping over Eddie’s trash bag as he yanked the old sled away from him (and boy was it heavy!). “This we can burn. I mean there’s no way to throw it away responsibly and with global warming running rampant it won’t serve any purpose if we donate it.”

“Wait, I remember this.” Eddie gasped, eyes flashing brighter than Richie expected anyone else pushing forty. “Your Flexible Flyer, from ‘87. I can’t believe you didn’t take better care if it. Don’t you remember, Richie? Oh my gosh.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Richie grumbled, staring ruefully at the dreaded sled. That was one memory he wished not to keep.

***

Patience was not a virtue Richie Tozier possessed, but today, he was actually giving it the old college try. Watching Mrs. Kaspbrak fret and dote over her nylon-clad son, pulling buttons and zippers and strings until he looked like a bright red Michelin Man, was its own kind of torture. Richie couldn’t groan, couldn’t sigh. He couldn’t even laugh when Mrs. K asked if Eddie had remembered his thermal underwear (though he would definitely tell Bill and Stanley later).

One wrong move, and he’d be sent off without Eddie for the rest of the day - maybe the rest of winter break. Who knew when Derry was going to get another perfect eight inches of tantalizing snow again? Probably on a school day in February for the jerk principal to keep class in session.

“I want you back before it gets too dark, you hear me?” Mrs. K commanded, while Richie struggled not to fidget in the doorway. And here he thought he could avoid all this consternation if his mom called and asked the night before. Like they were six and still needed to schedule playdates.

Eddie nodded, with a good deal of swishy noises between the hat, earmuffs, hood, and scarf all competing to swallow up his face.

After a drawn out goodbye session full of wet cheek kisses and smeared lipstick stains, they were off, stepping through the snowtracks Richie had already made on his way to the door.

“You don’t have to pee, do you?” he asked Eddie, when they were out of earshot. “I dunno if I can wait any longer if you do. You might have to take one for the team and shove a bottle up your pants.”

Eddie made a noise that sounded like a lot of hot air against wool, his mouth muffled by his scarf.

“Pardon?” Richie asked, cheesing.

Eddie growled, shoved his scarf down, and ripped off his hood. “I said shut up, Richie,” he snapped, wiping his mother’s lipstick off his cold-nipped cheeks.

Walking was a lot faster when they reached the street, where the snow had been scraped away the night before in preparation for what the perky blonde weather lady on channel five was calling the biggest snowfall of the season. It certainly seemed to be true, with the fluffy white stuff climbing up Richie’s legs to chill his shins. Perfect weather for playing (so long as Eddie’s mom decided to be reasonable).

“Check it out,” Richie gushed, shuffling backward to pull his brand spanking new Flexible Flyer out from the bushes where he had tucked it away. Had to hide it before he got to the Kaspbraks’. No way Mrs. K would let Eddie participate in any winter activity more strenuous than a snow angel, if she knew about it.

“Wow,” Eddie exclaimed, all bright-eyed excitement as he bent toward the sled to glide his mittens over the red runners and smooth, finished wood. “This is so awesome, Richie! Is it the newest model?”

“Yeah, Santa really pimped me out this year.” Richie grinned smugly from behind his glasses, and crossed his arms - best he was able in his stiff, puffy snow jacket.

“Did you name it?”

“Her , Eds, her. You know what Bill says. And yes, I did. Wanna know what?”

“Well, that’s kind of why I asked, stupid.”

“Her name is Lynda Carter,” Richie proclaimed, patting the flat seat of the Flexible Flyer with his gloved hand, “because she’s fast, and strong, and the minute I saw her I knew I wanted to ride her all day long.”

Eddie must not have been a fan of Wonder Woman, because he levelled a dry glare at Richie. “Gross.”

“Get your own sled if you don’t like it, Eds.”

“I can’t!”

Eager to put Eddie’s house far behind them, Richie grabbed the rope on Lynda Carter and started off on their winter trek, Eddie in tow. The number one spot for sledding in Derry was behind the library, where the slope was flat and steep and teeming with every stupid idiot from school, pushing into one another and taking forever to get back up to slide down again. With that many people, the snow was bound to get worn through too.

“The library’s in the other direction, Richie,” Eddie pointed out, shuffling along behind Lynda.

“I know,” Richie chirped. Their walk was pretty slow-going, but there wasn’t much he could do dragging a sled with almost a foot of snow on the ground.

Eddie made a flabbergasted noise that sounded like his voice had been caught in the back of his throat. “Then where are we going?”

“You’ll see!”

It didn’t take very long to see. Richie was still trying to master the art of anticipation, but one thing he did know was that if he told Eddie where they were headed, he ran the risk of derailing his whole operation. Sometimes Eddie could be just as persnickety as his own mother.

In no time, toes chilled through boots and two layers of socks, they arrived at the road up to the Kissing Bridge. Richie waited like a good little boy for a car to pass before he crossed the street, but Eddie yanked him back by his collar and nearly choked the life out of him.

“The Barrens?” Eddie demanded, while Richie lamented (not even a hundred feet away from their glorious destination!). “You wanna sled in the Barrens? It’s all trees, Richie. You’ll break your sled.”

“Lynda,” Richie whined. “And I can steer clear of trees! Don’t you have any faith in me, Eds?”

When Eddie stared him down silently for too long, Richie waved his arms and relented.

“Okay fine, we can go to the dumb old library.”

“Good,” Eddie stated, grinding his heel into the snow to turn around.

“Where everyone else is gonna be,” Richie went on.

“Probably!”

“Bumping into each other, hogging the slope.”

“Oh well!”

“Waiting like sitting ducks for when Henry and his chuckleheads come and ruin everything.”

All Eddie’s forward momentum ceased. Bingo.

“I think we could take ‘em though,” Richie went on, patting his scrawny bicep through his coat. “A little fisticuffs never hurt nobody - well, just so long as you can dodge some punches, otherwise your mom’s gonna have a hissy-”

“Just cross the street already!” Eddie shoved both hands into Richie’s back, and he grinned triumphantly toward the heavens as they headed to the Barrens.

The slanted plane of land leading down into the trees was a lot steeper than Richie remembered from the summer. Maybe it evened out toward the bottom, he wondered. Not all the snow would stick to the top of the slope, and fell to the end of it, to create a bigger cushion, all because of gravity. That was just basic physics, after all.

“How ‘bout here?” Richie asked, stopping after they’d walked on for a few minutes. “Looks pretty clear to me.”

“Richie, there’s like seven trees all down that direction,” Eddie said, motioning toward the pristine blanket of snow laid before them - or it would have been pristine, if not for the spindly trunks shooting into the sky.

“Uh, I count five,” Richie retorted, hauling Lynda over the bridge barrier. “And I told you, I can steer past them. All I have to do is lean a little. It’s barely steering.”

If Eddie meant to say something back, he floundered, helpless while Richie went about settling Lynda where she wouldn’t slip too soon, and mounting with the rope in his hand. When Eddie didn’t come sit his stupid butt down immediately after, Richie waved him over.

“I don’t know about this, Richie.”

“Come on, Eds! What are you, a pussy?”

Eddie’s eyes flared indignantly. Richie was doing a damn good job with his kicks in the right direction today.

“I am not a pussy.” Eddie dropped onto Lynda with a creak of wood.

“You can put your arms around my waist if you want,” Richie gushed.

“Just shut up and push off!”

Richie did just that. Lynda and her load slid through the snow with amazing agility, gaining speed as the incline disappeared behind them. Richie yanked on the string and wrenched his body around the thick trees scattered across the hillside, usually in the nick of time, to the tune of Eddie’s shrieking. Richie matched him in volume, only he was laughing instead.

They came to a gradual stop at the bottom of the slope, grinding into the snow-covered field that banked off into the stream where the sewers emptied out. A couple more feet and they might have been skidding across the frozen, rocky water.

Red-faced and panting, mostly from shouting their lungs out, the two of them climbed off Lynda, just a little eager for a surface that didn’t move and rumble beneath them. Richie grabbed onto the rope again, while his stomach let loose their butterflies, and his joints relaxed from being clenched so hard.

“See? That wasn’t so bad!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

Eddie wasn’t hyperventilating, or curled up on his side in the snow - a good sign. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, while Richie did his best to look mock offended. “You steered alright, Richie. If we do it from that spot every time we should be good.”

“See? And you doubted me.” More smug than he deserved to be, Richie slung an arm around Eddie’s neck, nearly tripping him. They hauled Lynda back up the slope, and did it all over again.

“Should we have a philosophical debate, like Calvin and Hobbes?” Richie called over his shoulder as they tipped off their starting point.

“I dunno if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters,” Eddie went on as they whizzed through the trees, “what do you know about philosophy?”

“Lots!”

“Well I don’t.”

“Then I’ll teach you, and that’ll be the debate.”

“Second, you don’t want to be like Calvin and Hobbes when they sled, Richie. You know at the end of every comic, Calvin and Hobbes start arguing, fly through the air and-”

A thick crack sent the Flexible Flyer - well, flying - arcing over a shallow rock ledge Richie had managed to avoided before. The two of them lost their grip far too easily, airborne for a half a second that felt so much longer. Long enough for Richie to register his dad would kill him if he broke Lynda.

The impact threw him flat into the snow, harsh and hard, the icy powder biting into his face as his frames dug into his skin. The wind got knocked out of Richie for a moment, and he squirmed, choking, until there was air in his lungs again, and he could sit up without dying.

If it wasn’t Lynda, then he was definitely toast for his specs, he decided, when he pulled them off his face to find thin cracks splintering the glass. Richie whined, more bummed out than sore, really, and lumbered to his feet to survey the damage on his beloved sled.

“Ow ow ow.”

Pausing in his literal tracks, Reddie shuffled in the snow to find Eddie hunched over in on himself. He was breathing hard, tilting back, and forth.

“Asthma?” Richie asked, wide-eyed as a new panic set in.

Eddie shook his head, eyes screwed shut. “I landed funny on a tree root. Over there. I think I sprained my knee.”

“Lemme see.” Richie knelt down beside him, hovering hesitantly. Eventually he worked up the nerve to grab Eddie’s leg with his gloved hand - only to reel back, when Eddie howled louder than he’d ever heard before.

“That hurts!” Eddie snapped, tears dotted along his eyelashes.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed, wary. “For real, Eds?”

“You think I’m making it up?”

“Well you’ve freaked out about smaller stuff!”

“I’m freaking out because it hurts so bad!” Eddie swore, mouth twisting up on itself as he fingered his knee. He whimpered, a small, scared sound. Richie had never heard anything like it before.

“Maybe we should take you to the doctor,” he said, forcing a single logical thought into his head.

“No!” Eddie’s head flew up, eyes wide. “No, I hate the doctor. They’re just going to call my mom and she’s gonna pitch a fit, and I won’t be able to hang out with you guys ever again! If we go to the pharmacy we can get stuff to make a splint. I can hide it under my pants and pretend I fell at home, later.”

“I don’t have any money, though!”

“Neither do I!”

“Then why would you suggest the pharmacy?!”

Richie thought long and hard, jarred by every pained noise that left Eddie’s mouth. No Mrs. K, no doctor, no pharmacy. Where the hell were they supposed to go?

A new idea dawned on Richie, and he gasped. “Wait, we could go to my parents’ house. They know how shitty your mom is, they’ll know what to do.”

Eddie stared at Richie, suspicion written across his distraught face. “You think so?”

“Yeah, my dad could probably figure something out. He’s a doctor.”

“He’s a dentist, Richie.”

“Everyone’s a critic, ain’t they?” Glancing around, Richie eventually spotted Lynda through his broken glasses, and went to retrieve her where she had capsized. Wasn’t broken, thankfully - but that was the least of his worries.

“I can pull you out on the sled,” he explained, situating her rightside up, before returning to Eddie, beckoning with his hands. “Come on. You can prop your leg up.” The nerves must have been getting to Richie, because he finished off with his best cowboy. “Don’t you worry, little lady, doc’s gon’ be ‘round to patch you up real soon.”

Eddie stared glumly, only to wince and his as he moved to get on the sled a second later. Richie’s guiding arms could only help so much. Each noise was like hot and cold, in regard to how much pain was being inflicted. A small breath was cold, and screaming OW OW OW was hot hot hot.

They eventually got Eddie set up with his leg propped in front of him, the other tucked under his butt. Like that, there wasn’t any room for Richie, but he had to pull anyway.

“Hold on tight,” he chirped, heaving the flimsy rope to drag Eddie, and Lynda, out of the Barrens.

There was no reasonable way to leave the way they came, which meant they had to take the long way out, following the more gradual incline of the land, past the sewer. Hauling over snow-laden grasses, rumbling across stones embedded in the ground, Richie really put his arms to work. He thought just Lynda had been bad - add a hundred pounds of injured pipsqueak, and it was downright torture. His knuckles ached in their grip, and the muscles in his arms seared. But hey - at least his knees were in tip-top shape.

“What did I tell you?” he mentioned at some point, huffing for breath as his heart worked itself into a tizzy behind his ribcage. Now that D in gym class made perfect sense. “We didn’t hit a tree, did we?”

Eddie’s pained groan was answer enough. Eventually they got themselves up and out of the Barrens, back into Derry proper, where the path was even and flat. Still, there was a whole neighborhood to traverse before they reached Richie’s house.

“You gotta admit, it was pretty fun, right Eds?” Richie asked hopefully. The silence behind him was deafening. All he could ever hope for, at any point in his life, was a reaction. Struggled noises didn’t really fit the bill. “And someday, we’ll laugh about this. How you hurt your knee riding Lynda Carter.”

“I’m not laughing about it now,” Eddie grit out.

“Well, we could laugh about something else.”

“No jokes. My stomach hurts.”

“Jeez, your knee hurts, your stomach hurts, there’s always something with you, isn’t there?”

Wondering, maybe for the first time, if he had gone to far, Richie decided he was better off shutting up - also for the first time.

They finally came upon the Tozier house, and Richie picked up the pace for the home stretch, boots grinding into the asphalt road as he hauled ass to his own front lawn. He went up the driveway, and “parked” Lynda in the yard (which Mom had said not to do, but desperate times and all that). Eddie grunted and grimaced all the way up, even with Richie taking one arm over his shoulder and his own hand around Eddie’s waist, so he could limp his way to the front door.

Before they could even make an attempt at the porch steps, though, the door flew open. Richie’s mom stood there in her thick Christmas sweater, a rag from some abandoned chore in her hand.

It didn’t take much to assess the situation, with Eddie propped up on Richie, his leg suspended in front of him.

“Richard, what did you do?”

“Eddie hurt his leg!” It’s not my fault rose to the tip of Richie’s tongue, but he swallowed it back. He wasn’t a hundred percent on that statement yet. He was pretty sure the anxious feeling rattling around in his skull was some form of guilt anyway.

Mrs. Tozier helped Eddie inside, over to the couch in the parlor no one was supposed to go in unless guests were over. Without any hesitation, with what Richie could only call Mom Mode fully activated, she took his boots off and rolled the leg of his snow pants up as gingerly and carefully as possible.

Richie’s eyes flared wide, his pulse picking up at the sight of the bulbous purple bruise spread across Eddie’s knee. He flicked his gaze into the corner of the room, where everything was much less grotesque.

“Oh no,” Mrs. Tozier murmured, trying not to touch Eddie’s knee too much. The red spread across his freckled face had little to do with the snow now, Richie figured, but Eddie set his jaw all the same.

“I think it’s broken. We’ll have to call your mom, Eddie. She can drive you to the hospital.”

“What? No!” Richie and Eddie said - almost in unison.

Mrs. Tozier gave each of them a look (the one for her son slightly more scathing). “We can’t do anything here, Richie. Eddie, you need a doctor. You need to get an X-ray, and probably some kind of cast.”

“Then what if we take him to the doctor?” Richie asked.

“They would still have to call Mrs. Kasprak,” his mom answered, almost exasperated. “And we don’t need to be at the hospital right now. I’m sorry, Richie. Eddie is his mother’s responsibility, not ours.”

She moved to leave, only for Richie to fling himself at her, clutching around her waist.

“You can’t do that, Mom! Mrs. K is gonna ruin his life! He’s going to be stuck with her big fat ass all winter break and not be allowed to leave the house!”

“Richard! Language!”

“It’s fine, Richie.”

Who would have thought it would be Eddie to stop the commotion. Richie paused, still latched onto his mom like a baby koala.

He expected Eddie to look so small and sad from the couch, what with the latest turn of events, but the opposite was true. He sat up, leg out, expression hard. If his knee weren’t busted, Richie thought he might shoot up and march right over.

“I gotta go to the doctor with my mom, that’s all there is too it.” Eddie huffed, fingers fiddling in his lap. “We tried, but if my leg is broken then I can’t really hide it. Thanks for getting me out of the Barrens, though. You really helped me out there.”

“The Barrens?” Mrs. Tozier demanded. “You brought your sled to the Barrens? What’s wrong with you, look what happened! Not to mention how much we paid for it, not for you to go crashing into things!”

“It was my idea, Mrs. Tozier,” Eddie chimed in, lying as easily as he would to his own mother. “I told Richie we should go play in the Barrens. It’s always so crowded behind the library. I thought it would be more fun.”

Richie stared at Eddie in disbelief. Eddie stared back, confident, despite the pain that twitched on his face.

Behind them, Mrs. Tozier sighed. “We’ll talk about this later, Richie. Right now, I’m going to call Eddie’s mom.”

She slipped right out of his grasp, striding away, into the kitchen. Richie stood there defeated. He hadn’t felt sorrier in his entire life.

Mrs. Kaspbrak came soon enough, spittle flying as she shrieked. Not just at Richie, but at his mom, as Eddie waited by, face turned away. She took him away, far away, to the hospital - and after that, home. His piss poor excuse for a home, where he stayed until school was back in session. Richie got grounded for playing in the Barrens for about the same amount of time.

He never rode Lynda Carter again.

***

“I felt so fucking betrayed by my mom that day,” Richie explained, shaking his head, laughing when the memory took a somber turn he had not been prepared for. “I couldn’t believe she did that. But I guess, in the end, I sorta betrayed you more, huh?”

“What?” Eddie asked, face twisting up.

“I delivered you into the hands of the enemy! I told you you wouldn’t have to go to the doctor or your mom and look what I did. I was a real snot-nosed brat.” Richie stared at the sled - Lynda - accusingly. As if she had made the decision to go play in a dangerous place.

Suddenly, Richie’s gaze was jarred by Eddie’s hands, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Don’t be stupid, Rich. We were kids.” His gaze turned a little soft. “I broke my knee, we couldn’t just avoid the hospital, as much as we wanted to back then. It was a mistake, yeah, and definitely your fault-”

“Thanks,” Richie said, voice muffled by the squish of his cheeks as he stooped down in front of Eddie.

“But I still agreed to it. And I turned out okay.”

“But your mom. I just wish there was something me or my parents could have done-”

“There wasn’t.” Eddie shook his head. “We were kids, we were at the mercy of everything. We didn’t have control over anything except where we went to fucking sled. And I was my mom’s responsibility, even if she was shitty about it. Not yours, or your moms.”

“Funny,” Richie mumbled. “My mom said something like that, I think.”

“Probably because she was an adult for way longer than you.”

“You callin’ my mama old?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and tilted forward. Their lips met, easing Richie’s troubled mind. His boyfriend was right, anyway - there was little they could have done back then. You couldn’t exactly call CPS on a mom keeping her son home about his broken leg.

“Besides,” Eddie said when they parted. “Mom’s in a retirement community, and it’s just you and me, now. Together forever.”

Richie gasped, delighted. “You’re right! That means you’re my responsibility.”

Eddie frowned. “That’s not what I-”

“Worry not!” Setting Lynda down, Richie clutched his arms around Eddie and swooped him into a dip, his boyfriend yelling all the while. “I will protect you with my life, fair sir! The evil, wretched, corpulent Sonia-beast can never touch us again!”

Richie pulled Eddie in for a sweet, enveloping kiss, the annoyed noises eventually dying down until there was nothing but soft lips, and an eased conscience.

Hell. Maybe one day, Lynda Carter would ride again.

#reddie #reddielibrary #writing team #prompt fill #quixoticquest

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talistheintrovert · 5 years

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Machete To Cut Through Red Tape

Or, if characters from The 100 popped into the Chuck universe for an afternoon! for @musicnote902

Chuck was in the middle of serving a customer when Morgan starting smacking him on the arm and urgently muttering his name.

“Not right now, I’ve got to get this lady-”

“-seriously, Chuck, you really need to-”

“-when I’m finished putting this through, I’ll-”

“Chuck!” He said, way too loudly. Chuck stilled, apologising to the woman as she left, before he turned around.

“WHAT?!”

Morgan didn’t say anything, he just gestured towards the door.

There were two people walking through it, dressed in intense gear, almost like bikers but not quite. The woman was blonde and her short hair was framing her face perfectly as she walked, bouncing with every step. She carried herself like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she was about to take charge. The man beside her was taller but looked equally badass, dark curls hanging just in front of his eyes as they darted around, taking in their surroundings, and one hand resting on the woman’s back almost protectively.

Chuck blinked. “Are they walking in slow motion?”

Morgan shrugged, tossing potato chips into his mouth.

“And where is that wind coming from? We’re inside a Buy More.”

“Oh, that’s Casey, he’s showing someone the industrial fan,” Morgan pointed over at the man, but Chuck just shrugged, still staring at the couple as they walked right up to him.

“Hi.” He said weakly, smiling.

“Hey,” the woman smiled back, “which one of you is Chuck?”

“That’s him, that’s him, Chuck that’s you!” Morgan said frantically.

He grimaced. “Uh, yeah, thanks buddy, maybe you could go and stock up the-”

“-nope, everything’s stocked, I’m good here.” He threw another chip up into his mouth, watching with vested interest.

“Great.” He conceded defeat and smiled apologetically at the newcomers. “Sorry, what can I do for you?”

“We hear you’re the guy to talk to when it comes to covert government operations,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “and we were wondering if you could help us out.”

He blinked, glancing around for Casey or Sarah, but neither of them were anywhere to be seen, so if these guys were a threat he was probably screwed. What he really needed was to move to a quieter location so that if they were here for nefarious purposes, he could let the Intersect take over and beat their asses to kingdom come. But he couldn’t do that in here without blowing his cover.

“Uhm. Where did you here that? I mean, I’m nothing special, I just run the Nerd Herd,” he started babbling and the two attractive people shared a look.

The guy scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, we know about the Intersect, and we’re not going to hurt you or try to kill you or use it to take over the world, we just want it to get us home.”

Chuck froze.

“You guys know about the In-” Morgan’s sentence was muffled by a hand over his mouth - Casey’s hand to be exact.

“Shut up, Moron.” He jerked his chin and all of them followed him out the back and through the secret door to the base where Sarah was already typing at the computer. Casey leaned against the wall and rested a hand on his gun. “So, you two chuckleheads want to tell me how you know about the Intersect?”

The woman shrugged. “You won’t believe us.”

“We’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff,” Morgan said, plaintive, “how unbelievable could it be?”

The man sighed heavily. “We’re from the future.”

Morgan paused. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty weird.”

The two of them began to fill the gang in, not the entire saga, but just enough that they believed they were legit; beginning with the first apocalypse, and ending with exactly how they ended up back on Earth at a random Buy More looking for Chuck.

“...we came across this machine under the city, and it was glowing green, like the time anomaly. We think someone was trying to build a time machine, because when we touched it, we arrived here, in the middle of a busy street, about a week ago. Luckily, Clarke had seen some of the information about the original project on the wall, like the Intersect and what it was, as well as your name, Chuck.”

Chuck made a face. “Oh great. So all I need to do is learn how to build a time machine. No problem, it’s only rocket science.”

The woman, Clarke, walked over and put a hand on his arm gently, “Hey, I’m sure you can do it. Besides, there’s this woman, Becca, who can probably help if we can find her. Together, you can get something up and running.”

“Together?” Bellamy, a wry smile on his face, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him.

“Yes, Bellamy. Together.”

And the way she looked at him warmed Chuck’s heart and made him instinctively glance at Sarah, only to find she was doing the same. They grinned at each other.

“This isn’t going to be a fast process.” Sarah pointed out. “Creating time travel isn’t exactly easy.”

“Yeah, we know,” Clarke sighed. “But we’ll do whatever it takes - we need to get back to our people, to rescue them from the Primes.”

“Primes?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, we’ve got time,” Chuck pointed out, rubbing his hands together as he sat down beside Sarah and started flicking through information on the computer to see if something would trigger the Intersect.

An alarm started blaring and the lights dimmed and flashed red.

“Actually, rain check on that story,” he said, as Sarah and Casey sprang to action.

He followed them towards the door, but when he looked back to apologise to Bellamy and Clarke for leaving, he found them walking right behind him, determined expressions on both their faces.

“What, you think we’re going to just stay here while you risk your lives to save the world?” Clarke asked, checking her gun.

Bellamy cocked his head. “Not likely.”

Chuck beamed, holding the door open for them as they climbed into the back of the van. He sat down across from them, and Sarah met his eye in the rear view mirror, a knowing, amused look on her face, but Casey was already shaking his head, even as Sarah put her foot on the accelerator.

“No. OH NO, we are not letting these complete strangers come with us on missions now, just because they’re from the future. Not gonna happen. I mean it Bartowski, I let it slide with Grimes, but I draw the line at time travelling leather jockeys!”

#talis's 666 celebration!#666 fics #chuck #the 100 #bellarke #chuck x the 100 #chuck bartowski #sarah walker #morgan grimes #john casey #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #this is some fun nonsense and i had SUCH a good time writing it

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howtohero · 5 years

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After our last two guest posts were such smashing successes, every no-name with any sort of knowledge or expertise regarding anything superhuman, supernatural or supernormal, has begun flooding our inboxes with requests to use our platform to educate the masses. One of these guys is so dedicated to sharing his expertise that he has emailed us literally every day, without fail, since we started this blog over two years ago. Which is super weird because we didn’t even introduce guest posts until like a year and a half later. This guy is very dedicated. So, I guess this only goes to show that when it comes to getting your favorite hyper-educational blog to publish your work, wearing them down through repeated emails does work. So even if this guy doesn’t teach you anything, at least we’ve taught you that. So, without further ado, here’s...

#205 Teleporter Safety

by: Half-Face McGee

First off, let me head off any jokes you chuckleheads are waiting to make about me giving people teleporter-safety advice being like fishing bait giving fish lessons about staying off the hook. Yes, I was horribly disfigured in a teleporter accident. No, I don’t just have a birthmark that covers my entire face that just looks like half a face. You’d be surprised by how often I get asked that. I lost half of my face in a teleporter accident, and I’ve been spending all of my time since then trying to prevent others from making the same mistake. So yeah, come at me, tell me that me trying to speak out any of the horrors of instantaneous travel is like a tire trying ta tell you bozos not to lie down under a truck and start spinnin’ around. I know more than anybody out there on this subject, and darn it to hell, I’m going to educate you.

Teleportation may seem like a grand ol’ time. Who wouldn’t want to stand in one place, and then seconds later, be standing in a different place? Especially if that second place has got like soft pretzels or something. That sounds like a real dream I’m sure. Well it’s not, a delicious soft pretzel is not worth the negative effects atomizing yourself and hurtling your discombobulated molecules across the planet at the speed of light are bound to have. Take it from me, one face is better than half a face. Do you know I haven’t seen the left side of anything in over ten years? Teleportation cost me not only my favorite side of my face, but my superhero career, my civilian career, most of my relationships since I had to cut ties with everybody after my rather unique condition outed me to all of my supervillain enemies, the ability to wear eye patches, heck, even my first name! Do you think my first name is actually Half-Face? Because guess what! It’s not! My first name is Seamus but nobody’s called me that in 13 and a half years! Though my toothbrushes last twice as long since they’ve only got to brush half as many teeth per brushing. So that’s nice I guess. But overall I think it was a net loss!

What happened to me was that I violated the number one rule of teleportation, I didn’t make sure all of my body parts were inside of the teleporter before I shot off to the other side of the planet. The more beautiful half of my face was woefully outside of the chamber’s confines when the atomizing process began, forcing me to leave it behind so I could help my fellow superheroes fight off the latest crisis. I think it was a megalomaniacal wooly mammoth or something. Certainly nothing worth losing my second favorite eye over. Nothing is worth that. Maybe if the megalomaniacal wooly mammoth had also been a vampire or a ninja or something I could maybe see the argument. But it wasn’t. It really was not a time sensitive issue. I could have just taken a cab or something.

And still I consider myself lucky, I only got horribly mutilated. Other times I’ve seen a failure to keep all body parts inside the teleport chamber to result in split-personality clones. Unlike perfect, or even near-perfect clones, personality-split clones don’t replicate their originator completely. While they may look exactly the same on the purpose, each split-personality clone assumes only one facet of the original’s personality. What a mess. I’ve met some of you and trust me, ya can’t afford to have your personalities split in half.

However, this paramount principle is not the only way to hurt yourself while using a teleporter. Did you know that if you sneeze from thirty minute before getting into a teleporter all the way to two hours after emerging from a teleporter you run the risk of the teleporter rays in your system transfiguring your face so that it’s inside out! I’m serious I’ve got a cousin who that happened to! Inside-Out-Face McGee they call him! Disrespectful! So if you’ve got the sniffles or if you have a history of teleporter ray allergies in your family then you’d be better off taking a bus than even looking at a teleportation device of any kind!

I bet you bozos also didn’t know that you gotta make sure there’s no music around when you’re teleporting. So chuck your music device into a ravine and knock your neighbor’s boombox off of their porch and also into a ravine and make sure no one in your house is watching any of those music videos with the music in them. Might as well throw your housemates into the ravine too for good measure. Because if any music is playing while you teleport, the soundwaves are going to get spliced with your discombobulated molecules and the song will literally always be stuck in your head for the rest of your life. The soundwaves will be trapped in your brain. I’ve heard of many documented cases that I heard of where the victim of this could only have thoughts to the tune of the song they heard while teleporting. Is this the kind of madness you’re interested in? You wanna think all your thoughts to the tune of “Put on a Happy Face” from the hit Broadway musical Bye Bye Birdie? Yeah, I didn’t think so!

On a similar note, ya can’t ever have two people go into a teleporter booth at the same time. Doing so is gonna scramble the two of you together in transit and pop you out as one person on the other side of it all. There’s no telling what you’re gonna look like. There’s no telling what it’s gonna do to your brain. There’s definitely no telling what it’s gonna do to your face! But I can tell ya, it’s not going to be very pretty is it? To be completely safe from molecule-melding, you’ll need to completely sterilize any teleporters you want to us. Otherwise you can get like dirt or bugs merged into your system. And that’s gross. Try holding down a job with a fly head or dirt hands.

With all these potential side effects, which reminds me, I didn’t even mention the high probability of contracting something scientists have haphazardly decided to call “demon flu” on a whim, it’s a wonder why anybody would ever be foolish enough to even consider hopping into a teleporter. I think what everybody needs is to just slow down a little. There’s nowhere you need to be in .333 seconds. If you wanna get their quick, run or something. Or get a moped and stick a rocket on the back of it. I guarantee you that’s more safe than getting into a teleporter. What’s the big rush? Supervillains monologue(italics) that’s one of their big things! That alone gives you enough of a window to bike over to any major crime scene. Trust me kids, teleporter safety is an oxymoron, hardly anybody comes out of those things with all their body parts and all their sanity. True, the same could be said for most city busses, but at least if you’re taking a city bus you’ve got a fighting chance against the crazy people and the fast-closing doors that are liable to chop your arm off. I’d like to see any of ya fight the sensation of having every single cell in your body divvied up and bounced through the airwaves and then reconstituted until a non-thinking machine says “eh, good enough” and spits you out. Take it from me, don’t get into a teleporter.

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ohsnapitzlovehacker · 5 years

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Quick Thoughts on HSS: Class Act Ch. 11

*This set of rambings is based off of a non-diamond playthrough

- I wanted to thump Trevor across his ear. Everybody over worried for Skye’s SAFETY and he’s concerned bout the lighting and other tech stuff. Dude. I understand you’re not aware of Skye’s home situation, but maybe read the room a bit??

- I’m boo-boo the fool for believing for a good 30 seconds that my child wasn’t coming and I was about to lose it. And then she walks in. All was right in the world 😭

- Skye awkwardly returning Meghan’s hug?? Y’all, I’m soft. Their friendship is literally what keeps me going lol. And everyone else happy to see her too?? Why the hell does she have to go back home at the end of the day, ugh

- It was a diamond choice to pick the stage = I’m not surprised, and I’ll probably go with the more intricate set dec. It was free to make Rory feel better AND get a ride home = I’m shook. ALSO!!! @PB, when are we gonna find out about Rory’s mother? I feel like that’s another plot point y’all have been skating across and obviously I’m impatient, but like, tell us? Soonish?

- Cruel is the one who make me pick between watching the original cast of Wicked and the original cast of Hamilton. That was unfair and only picked Hamilton because my finger actually slipped. But...

- Clint is right, and we don’t deserve Lin. To sound like a fangirl and ngaf, he’s actually my inspiration and the day I meet him and Viola Davis in person is the day my soul leaves my body 😂

- Alright Amber, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, aka young, dumb, and in love, and my amusement quickly turned to terror once I remembered who the hell Lorenzo was. HOW ARE YOU GONNA GO AFTER MY TWIN’S BEST FRIEND AND NOT SEE A PROBLEM WITH IT??? Also, Lorenzo, yous canceled until further notice. What kind of friend are you, dude??

- Stupid ass ice sculpture. Ajay is the king of zing(ers), can I bottle up his sass and sarcasm?? Please?

- So Meghan went to go cheer baby brother up alone. And she did not make him feel better. Whoops. Didn’t realize her humor would make the situation worse. (She told him they’d be single together and Malcolm did NOT like that)💀

- DENISE NICHOLS OMG GIRL I MISSED YOU!!!!!!

- Seeing your MC from the OG HSS choices book does wonders for the soul. Also, it was cute with everyone signing her cast. Also, why is her shirt design still backwards, Denise I’m so sorry they being so ugly to you like that.

- ....ppl really out here thinking Meghan hurt Denise on purpose WHEN THERE”S ONLY ONE CHUCKLEHEAD RESPONSIBLE and her name rhymes with.. nvm she’s a child, I won’t go there.

- Trevor you for real canceled. Erin, thank you for having Meghan’s back since jump, and to everyone else who suspects Meghan, WOOOOWWWW. (Also, I’m getting flashbacks to HSS book 3, so this should be interesting)

- This is just a theory, but I have a hunch this book will get a sequel. There’s so many things left to explore PLUS all the LIs have slow burns with MCs so I’d love to see the dynamic explored in a second book. Welp, till next week!

#quick thoughts #playchoices #hss: class act #high school story class act #long post

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webcricket · 6 years

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Looking Glass

Chapter 2 - Welcome to Bunkerland

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1643

Summary: A summer hiatus series. The reader is a refugee from the apocalypse AU where angels pursue humans with righteous wrath under the rule of the archangel Michael. Against all odds, the reader awakens in a world where the apocalypse never happened and not everyone is who they seem to be. Does her heart truly long to save her world, or does it belong now to the last person she ever expected to give it to?

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

Humming contentment, inhabiting the sluggish middle-ground between sleep and sentience, you loll to one side of the bed. Knees curling to your chest, you nuzzle your chin deeper into the pillow and slide a hand beneath the cushion to cuddle it closer. The cotton fabric is cool and crisp to the touch. The clean floral hint of the dryer sheet with which it tumbled – and recently, judging by the fresh fragrance – tickles your nose. Poised at the brim of awareness, consciousness gently cascading over your somnolent senses, untroubled comfort blankets you for another blissful moment before wakeful alarm courses through your languid frame.

Fighting the reflex to flail off the sheets and flee, balling the pillow in your fists, you force yourself to freeze and formulate a plan. You still the dissenting shudder of your body as your heart sprints and adrenaline floods your veins and urges you contrariwise – every double beat a deafening drum to rise and run in your ears. You drink in a deep calming breath through your nose, reciting the mantra to stop and think over the wail of your pulse. Reaching into your memory to try to figure out what happened, you contort bodily and choke back a scream. Thinking hurts.

Mind a dense haze of smoke, brain a smoldering black coal that flares in a painful fiery burst when you try to recall any detail of the who, what, where, when, why, or how of being here, you default, instead, to basic survival instinct. You have an indistinct sense that wherever this place is, it’s very unlike the last place. You feel that you’re safe; some piece of you, however – a bit of coding programmed into your DNA – knows it’s not safe to trust safe anymore because nowhere is really safe from . . . You gasp at the galvanizing flash of lighting striking down the attempt at thought. Not thinking is hard.

Enough. Your eyelids separate into the slimmest of slits necessary to admit light in order to inventory the immediate surroundings: Bedside lamp, bulb illuminated and radiating a warm glow. Digital red numbers on an alarm clock indicating a time of 5:37PM. Glass of perfectly clear water, three-quarters full. Sheet of paper, thick enough to stand on the folded edge, a message scribbled across in bold black ink.

You clamp your lashes shut and take a slow and measured inhalation. Holding the air in your lungs until they begin to burn, you listen. You perceive only the rapid tinny race of your bounding heart. Identifying no imminent peril, you pop open both eyes and blow out the hot torrent of checked breath, panting afterward in relief. Swinging your legs over the side of the mattress, attention sweeping the bare walls, single wooden door, and beige-brown color palette of the windowless utilitarian room, your focus settles once more on the piece of paper on the nightstand.

You pluck it up to examine the note evidently intended for you as there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. It reads: Back soon – make yourself at home. It’s a concise welcome, but does nothing whatsoever to clear up the confusion of where you are or how you came to be here. Your temples throb as you tread dangerously near a rising recollection. Rubbing at the ache, you notice ink bleeding through from the other side and flip the sheet: Stay put – don’t break anything. The handwriting is as different as the vaguely threatening sentiment and equally meaningless to you.

Tossing aside the paper, you hop to the floor. You suck in a quick shot of air to shallowly expand your ribcage and peer down at the external state of matters stretching from your neck to toes. It isn’t the oversized fleece-lined sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, extending well beyond your fingertips and shrouding you to your thighs that shocks you. Nor is it the wide-legged plaid pajama pants rolled up to your ankles that come as a surprise.

You tentatively shift your weight from one leg to the other and jump again. Your bare feet land with a quiet and painless thud on the tile. The pleased smile – small as it is – has no time to brush its subtle curve onto your mouth before a cinch of blazing embers ensnares your skull. Knees buckling, you sink shrieking to the floor as you realize your left leg isn’t the shattered limb you remember. You badly broke the leg when you lost your footing on a rugged mountain pass leading to a camp in Dayton, Ohio and the rumored promise of safety there. Safety. Through the crippling agony, specifics of the incident of failing to outrun a band of angels and your subsequent capture return to you.

When you recover your faculties, tears puddle on the porcelain where your forehead presses to the cold tile. Tongue swiping your lips, you taste the salt streaking your cheeks. Rocking onto your heels, you clasp your fingers around your wrists in turn and run the pads of them over the smooth skin. Like your fractured limb they, too, are unmarked by the tight binds that secured you to the chair in the cabin where . . . You flatten your palms to the floor in front of you to keep from crumpling at the emergent memory of him.

Castiel – the other angels called him Castiel, a seraphim sadist, strangely sentimental. He’s the one who set your brain ablaze. He wanted information about where the refugees were gathering and why. And he especially wanted to know the whereabouts of someone named Jack. He lit brush fires in your mind as if to smoke the information out. You don’t know jack, about any Jack, but you were willing to die before divulging anything to that divine douchebag.

You dare to think, perhaps, you are dead. Sitting upright, you glance around the room with that viewpoint. Imagining yourself in Heaven instills no solace. Heaven is chock full of angels and you’d rather be in Hell. You’ve heard it’s pretty decent digs since the apocalypse went down and all the demons went topside. You don’t expect anyone in power much cares where human souls end up nowadays.

From this vantage point, headache abating, you spot a square of pink in the center of the door you missed before. Standing up, you cross the room and squint at the writing: Kitchen is to the right if you want something to eat. It’s the same friendly scroll as the note bidding you to make yourself at home. Your stomach rumbles with enthusiasm. There’s a second square tucked below the first with a warning: Don’t drink all the beer.

“Seriously?” you snicker aloud. “Somebody’s in a bitchy mood.” You imagine it was quite the row these chuckleheads with warring memos had before they deigned to leave you here alone, wherever the heck here actually is.

Turning the doorknob, you step into the hall to make your way to the kitchen. Your eyes dart to each steady bulb of light illuminating the way. You find it curious there is no loud whirring roar of a generator providing the electricity. Until now, you believed electricity of this sort, available at the whim of a finger flicking a switch, was an extinct species – mere magical fodder for children’s bedtime stories.

You pause before a gaping door and peer into what must be the kitchen based on the stainless steel storage stretching along the walls. This room, you note, like the one you awoke in, is also windowless and tidy in efficiency. Throat itchy with thirst and thinking of the untouched glass of water you left bedside, you swallow dryly and cross over to the sink. Purely for your own amusement, since it also doesn’t exist anymore in a convenient manner, you twist on the hot water tap and cup your hands beneath the spout. Steamy liquid warmth instantly flows over and fills your upturned palms. Snorting a laugh, you dip your head to the basin to splash your skin with the soothing spray.

It’s with your face ducked under the faucet, letting the warmth pour across your foolishly grinning features, fully submerged in this fantasy come to life, fingers clasped to the sink edge to keep from falling in, that you fail to hear the gravelly voice resounding on approach in the hall over the rush of the water.

“Sam! Dean? I’m back. I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I was able to enter Heaven and the other angels didn’t murder me as we anticipated they would. The bad news is, they didn’t murder me because there are only a handful of us left and-” Cas swallows the remainder of his report as he leans over the kitchen threshold to study the peculiar scene.

Although he healed your physical injuries after Dean dragged you through the rift, he hadn’t expected you to wake given the sustained suffering of your mind. Even an angel cannot always undo the work of angels. He’s glad to see he was wrong. Determining his silent stare could be considered rude, he clears his throat, steps into the room, and announces his presence. “Hello?”

Through the blear of water wetting your lashes, you see a figure – a man, judging from the broadness of his shoulders – drifting toward you from the doorway. “Sorry, I-” You recoil from the sink, apologizing out of awkwardness. Slick fingers scrambling to turn off the faucet, you simultaneously grope along the counter for something to wipe your eyes.

“Here.” The raspy word is followed by a cloth laid against your arm.

“Thanks.” You dab the cotton to your face. “I-” When you look up from the towel, the man’s eyes lock on yours, both of them blue. The hue – an unmistakable shade seared into your memory – instills you with horror.

Next: Ch. 3 - The Quote Unquote Situation

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