#The contrast has always been so funny to me like party and ghoul going 'yeah that sucks anyway let's get stupid' is so funny 2 meee

[marciliedonato]

The sharp contrast between danger days album story vs danger days mv story like. 'oh shit yeah .... Kobra and Jet got dusted right. that's so sad aw man that sucks :// anyway there's nothing we can do now let's get crazyyyy desert party time 🤩🤩' vs "damn that looks kinda bad maybe we should just kill them all at bl/ind and go for a heroic martyrdom narrative?? Um Yeah that's better aha.. 😬😬" like plssssss 💀💀😩⚰️

[morning-might-arrive]

Apparently the monster high fandom is rising from the grave again, so in celebration I wrote this instead of sleeping. I will be finishing it soon. Feedback is much appreciated! A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Monday

It was 12:06 in the afternoon when Jackson Jekyll ascended the steps of Monster High. If he was quick enough, he could at least be on time for 5th period. He took his seat in Mr. Rotter’s AP contemporary literature class just as the bell rang and pulled out his class copy of 1984. The stoic teacher gave him a nod of recognition. A few minutes into the lecture, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“You were not in creepateria this morning.” Abbey stated in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

“Yeah,” Winona added, “Ghoulia wanted to show you the new Fastpoint comic she got. She seemed really bummed you weren’t there. I can’t wait for you to read it though. It retcons the whole DeathCap Comics universe back to the way it was before the reboot. There was even-”

“Where were you, anyway?” Howleen hastily changed the subject.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. We were at the doctor’s office. Something kinda came up unexpectedly.” Jackson replied, turning to face them. This caught the attention of Rochelle. She looked up from her book.

“Doctor? Is everything alright?” Concern dripped from her voice and Jackson instantly felt guilty. 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. We’re in a little bit of pain, but…” Jackson’s eyes both glanced upward towards his helix piercing as he spoke.”It won’t be a problem for much longer.” The four ghouls glanced at each other suspiciously and then back towards Jackson. Abbey opened her mouth to challenge his last statement.

“Ladies! Mr. Jekyll! Do not make me have to separate you!” Mr. Rotter’s stern voice boomed from the front of the room. Jackson muttered a meek apology and turned back to his book, his ghoulfriends quickly following suit. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

40 uneventful minutes went by and then finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. “Don’t forget to read the next chapter!” Mr. Rotter yelled to his students, but most of them were too far away to hear. Jackson dashed to his locker and quickly called his human friend Chad.

“Hey! I just got back from the doctor’s office. Yeah, she told me to just take some Advil and just let it run its course.” unbeknownst to him, resident blogger Spectra Vonderguist was perusing the hallways looking for her next story.

“Completely done for, they said. Apparently there’s nothing they can do.” 

Spectra perked up at those words. She quickly pulled out her iCoffin and hid a few lockers down from Jackson’s. 

“It’s true. We don’t have much time left.” 

Spectra gasped and quickly snapped a photo of the scene in front of her. Did he say he was running out of time as in...death? Having always been a ghost, Spectra didn’t know a lot about death other than that it was something that happened to humans and to some breeds of monster. Even so, Jackson seemed a little early in his life to be experiencing it. In moments like these she really regretted snooping around in other people’s business, but she definitely had her blog post.

Tuesday

At 8:35 that morning, every phone in Monster High sounded at once as The Ghostly Gossip was updated. Conversations were halted and hallway traffic came to a standstill as several students stopped to check their phones. 

Normie’s days are numbered?

Yesterday, sources caught a phone conversation of one Jackson Jekyll in which he confessed to being told by a doctor that he didn’t have much time left on earth. This story is still developing, and more details will be reported as they come in.

Deuce Gorgon’s eyes scanned the short article again. “Dude.” Was all he could come up with after a couple of minutes. “What?” Asked Clawd Wolf as he approached his best friend. Deuce handed over his phone.

“Dude!” Clawd exclaimed. “If this is someone’s idea of a joke, it isn’t very funny.”

“I know.” Deuce replied in a stern tone that contrasted with his usual jovial one. “Maybe the ghouls know something about this.”

Clawd nodded and quickly scanned the hallway. Frankie, Cleo, Clawdeen, and Draculara were all crowded around Frankie’s locker. They were looking over Cleo’s shoulder at something on her phone and talking to one another in a hushed whisper. The boys headed toward the group.

“Hey, did you ghouls see that weird blog post?’ Deuce asked the group.

“Uh, yeah,” Cleo responded. “Why would Spectra post such a far-fetched tale? And expect anyone to believe it?”

“But why would she post something like this if it wasn’t true?” Clawdeen asked. “You know how seriously that ghoul takes her blog.”

“C’mon guys,” Frankie cut in. “Spectra’s gotten a story twisted around before, remember?”

“But-” Draculara started.

“But nothing.” All eyes turned towards a fast-approaching Heath Burns, flanked by Abbey and Ghoulia. “Look, if my cousins were dying, I would know about it. That ghost writer has lost her spark.”

“Am not so sure.” Abbey responded, giving Heath the side eye. “He was acting very strange yesterday. Said he did go to see doctor.”

Draculara burst suddenly into tears, clinging to Clawd and Clawdeen. “But that means we’re gonna lose Jackson and Holt-” the rest of her sentence was cut off by sobbing.

“There there, sweetie,” Clawdeen whispered, handing her best friend a tissue. “That does it. We have to put this whole thing to rest right now.

“Yes,” Abbey agreed. “We go ask Jackson.”

“Well we can’t just tell him we know,” Cleo insisted. “What are you even going to say? ‘Oh, by the way, Spectra eavesdropped on your private conversation yesterday and now there’s a story posted on the internet about you for the whole school to read, so can you tell us if it’s true?’ He’ll be mortified.”

Frankie stared at her. “That’s actually a pretty good point. Okay, we’ll meet in the library during lunch to find what we can about human death, so we at least know what we’re looking for. Sound like a plan?” The group collectively nodded. “Good. I’ll see you there.”

At 11:30 that morning, the group re-convened in the dusty confines of the Monster High library. Ghoulia moaned as she typed away at the computer in front of her. 

“Ghoulia says that when a human dies, they’re put into a box that is measured especially for them. The box is then put into a long black car to a place where it can be buried in the ground. It’s customary for the person’s box to be decorated with flowers, and then their family and friends are invited to a gathering to watch them be buried.” Frankie translated.

“Like some sort of going away party?” Clawdeen asked. “I’m glad i’m not a human. That’s pretty morbid.”

“But that proves it!” Heath exclaimed. “I’m Jackson’s family so if he were dying, I would definitely be invited to the going away party and so would my parents. This whole story is bogus.”

The other students weren't so sure yet, but they all let the subject drop for now.

At 2:56, the music stopped. Jackson blinked, suddenly aware of his surroundings. The sun beamed down and burned his eyes, and he quickly had to side step to avoid being trampled by the massive herd of students walking behind him. He’d apparently stopped in his tracks in the middle of the front walkway of the school. He looked down and discovered the cause of this to be his dead iCoffin. He plugged his phone into his portable charger and it blinked back to life. Underneath the time display was a message from Holt.

“You got any idea why D-low hugged me holding back tears this mornin? Did I miss somethin?” Jackson opened his phone to respond

“Um, no? I don’t think so. Did she say what was wrong?” He left it for Holt to find later and put his phone back in his bag. Not a moment passed before it began buzzing with a call from his dad.

“So anyway, I was all like ‘dude’ and she was all like-” Draculara recounted the events of the day and was suddenly cut off by her best friend Clawdeen, who pushed her back behind the doors to the school, pointing in Jackson’s direction. 

“You’re going to pick us up right?” Jackson asked into the phone.

“Okay. Yeah, we spoke to the florist yesterday. We picked out this really cool arrangement of Forget-Me-Nots. Pretty appropriate for the occasion, right?”

The two ghouls in hiding glanced at each other. “Do you remember what Frankie said? About humans getting flowers when they’re-”

“SHH!” the two turned their attention back to the human in question.

“Yeah, I know. Moms will be devastated. They said they won’t be back until 11 or 12 that night, and we’ll definitely be gone by then. But we’ll be sure to take a lot of pictures before we go!” He continued to the person on the other end. “Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

The girls gasped as Jackson put his phone away. Clawdeen pulled out her phone and pulled up the group chat. They had to tell everyone what they had just heard. 

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good morning fuckers, I wrote over 2k words in twenty-four hours (and a good portion of that at ass o’clock in the morning because I was up with cats).

Title: will you drive me back/can you take me home

Wordcount: 2427

Summary: When a run goes south, Party Poison gets stuck out in Zone Five with Cherri Cola. This leads to some interesting conversations, mainly involving Kobra Kid and a lack of emotional intelligence.

Warnings: There is some very lightly implied past sexual harassment (it's only one line, but I figured I'd warn for it). Also the usual amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison did not like being here. 

Here, being, of course, a dusty road in the middle of Zone 5, where they were currently standing, in the middle of the fucking night, watching Cherri Cola fiddle with the engine of his truck. They found the Zone poet annoying at best, and they certainly didn’t trust him, so it had taken quite a bit of convincing for them to come on this run in the first place. Just a short run with Cola, Poison. It will be easy, just a tiny trip to pick up some supplies. Cherri just needs a companion. It’s safer together, Poison. That’s what Dr. Death Defying had said back at the radio station as he talked Poison into this fucking train wreck.

The run had turned out to be neither short nor easy, filled with disasters from beginning to end. First, they had been attacked along the way, and then the neutral who had promised the supplies had attempted to backstab them. After a lot of negotiation and some mild threatening from Poison, they had been given the supplies. After that, plus fighting off a rather bold (and stupid) killjoy who tried to take their stuff (and managed to get Party’s jacket covered in fucking slime), they had finally been able to get back on the road...only for Cola’s stupid fucking truck to break down. So now Poison was stuck in Zone Five with a broken down truck and no jacket at one in the fucking morning, what was supposed to be a simple afternoon supply run having turned into a many hour slog. Frankly, they were getting pretty tired of it.

“Hey, Pepsi, any luck with the truck?”

Cherri Cola raised his head from where he was fiddling with the hood. Even in the moonlight, Poison could tell that his hair was a mess and his cheek was streaked with motor oil, disheveled as ever. “Not a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck,” Poison swore. “Just what we need.”

“There is some good news, though,” Cola continued. “I think I know what’s wrong, I just don’t have the tools to fix it on me.”

“Well that’s not very helpful then.”

The other didn’t reply, busy rooting around in the glove compartment. After a minute or so, he looked up again. “Nope, not here.”

This night just got better and better. “Fuck. So now what?” 

Cherri Cola was fiddling with a handheld radio now. “Newsie isn’t far from here right now, I’m going to radio her and ask her to bring over the tools we need. Hello?”

“Cola? You good?” NewsAGoGo’s staticky voice crackled from the radio.

“Party Poison and I are stuck out in Zone Five, the truck broke down. Can you bring the full toolkit?”

There was a moment of silence from the other side, followed by “Damnit, Cola, tonight was my night off.” Poison heard a faint sigh. “Radio me your location and I’ll be there in twenty.”

They tuned Cola out as he gave Newsie the details, staring out at the desert night. Ghoul and Jet were bound to be worried if Poison didn’t get home soon. Whether Kobra would be worried was a toss-up; if he was, he certainly wouldn’t bother to tell Poison. Either way, they were supposed to be home three hours ago. Ghoul and Jet were probably already worried, come to think of it. Well, they would just have to suck it up and deal with it, since Poison had to suck it up and deal with being stuck with Cherri Cola.

Speaking of Cherri Cola, he had come over to tap them on the shoulder. “Hey, Poison, Newsie’s on her way. It’ll probably be a half hour or so, though, do you want to get back in the truck?”

Why was he so insufferably nice? “I’m fine.”

“You sure? It is pretty chilly out here, and your jacket is covered in slime, I don’t want to be bringing you back to your crew like ‘hey, Poison nearly froze to death’.” They swore Cola was grinning, although it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Fine, you’re going to be insufferable if I don’t.” 

“I’m fairly sure you already thought I was insufferable,” Cherri Cola said with a laugh, hopping back into the driver’s seat as Poison reluctantly followed him.

“Yeah, I do.”

The Zone poet glanced over at them. “I’ve always been a little curious about that- why do you hate me so much?” 

“Just curious?”

“Well, a bit hurt, yeah, but I’m hated by a surprising number of people. You get used to it.”

“I don’t see why anyone would ever hate you,” Poison snorted. “Perfect poet Cherri Cola, nicest person in the Zones.” They might have been revealing a little bit too much, but fuck it all. They were tired and done with everyone’s shit.

“But you still hate me, so I can’t be perfect.” His voice held a hint of a smile, but he dropped that as he went on. “I’m not infallible, Poison. I’m human, and I’ve done a lot of things I’m not so proud of.”

Poison actually bothered to turn and look at him this time, taking in his face in the moonlight. “You? Not proud of yourself?”

“Not everyone has your confidence.” Cola’s mouth twisted into a wry smile as he turned to face Poison. “And I have a feeling your confidence is more of a very good shield.”

They jerked away from that kind gaze. “Shut up, Pepsi.”

“As you wish.”

The silence of the desert invaded the car for a few moments more before “I always forget no one gets that reference.”

“What?” Poison eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s from an old movie D and I like; I’ve gotten in the habit of saying that instead of just ‘yes’ to a request.”

“Oh.”

“So really, I’m curious. Why do you hate me?”

“Don’t hate you, just don’t trust you,” Poison muttered. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“Because of my past?” Cola’s eyes seemed infinitely old in that moment, shadowed by things no killjoy should have had to live through. “I won’t blame you if the answer is yes, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t know shit about your past. I don’t trust you because of how much you hang around my brother.”

Cherri Cola looked more startled than anything. “Kobra? He’s a good kid.”

“So you should stay away from him, then,” Poison snapped. The peace of the desert at night was nowhere near a suitable backdrop for their anger, burning and burning in contrast to the gentle desert sky. Stupid fucking Cherri Cola and his stupid fucking gentle eyes and the stupid fucking way Kobra trusted him, practically more than Kobra trusted Poison, it seemed.

To their surprise (and irritation), Cola didn’t even seem angry. “I don’t mean to hurt your brother in the slightest. He’s just a kid who could use a friend. Reminds me a bit of myself at that age, actually. Although you do even more.”

If you had asked Party Poison at age twelve where they thought they would end up, ‘sitting in a broken-down truck in the desert listening to Cherri Cola say that they reminded him of himself’ would not have been on the list. “You really don’t want to hurt him?”

“No, of course not! Kobra is a very kind person, and I don’t want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it.” 

They scanned his face and decided he seemed sincere. Cherri Cola was many things, but a good liar he was not. “Kobes got pushed around a lot back in the city. Harassed by older kids, older people. There’s always some creepy guy who hangs around the young, handsome trans dude.”

Cola’s face was nothing short of horrified. “Destroya, no, Poison. I’ve been there, I’ve been that young trans dude. If Kobra is uncomfortable with me around, I’ll leave him alone. Is- is it okay? Has Kobra asked you to talk to me about this?”

Poison was forced to admit he hadn’t. “No, I just worry about him.” Cola’s words caught up to them. “Wait, you’re a trans guy?”

Cola cracked a small smile. “What part of my personality made you think I was cis?”

“Now that I think about it, none of it.”

“Oh, good, I would hate for that to happen again.” 

They glared at him, but they had to admit it was a little bit funny. “You’re pretty fucking bad at acting cis, but you had me fooled.”

“Ah, I’m so clever and trickster-y.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Cola shrugged. “I don’t have to use real words as long as people know what I mean. But back to our original topic, is there any other reason you don’t like me hanging out with your brother?” 

Yes. “No. Just worry about how much time he spends with you.” 

“I promise I’m not that bad of an influence.” Cola’s teasing grin dropped away again as he glanced over. “I think you worry he doesn’t want to spend time with you, but that’s not true. He does, and he cares. He’s just bad at saying it, and so are you.”

“Fuck. Off,” Poison growled. Why did he always have to hit touchy subjects like that?

Cola shrugged again. “Just saying what I’ve noticed.” 

They would have gotten further pissed at him, but a cold gust of wind swept through the car, cooling their anger and making them shiver. They desperately wished their jacket didn’t have to be sitting in the back, covered in some sort of chemical-smelling slime from their run-in with that rude killjoy who turned out to be somewhat of a scientist. He had been not only a ‘scientist’ (really, a bomb maker with some chemistry knowledge) but a dick as well. Poison really wasn’t happy that Cola has stopped them from punching his face in, and especially so now that they didn’t have their jacket.

Speaking of Cola, a hand passed in front of their vision, holding a familiar green jacket, and they figured they better actually listen to what he was saying.

“-not cold anyways, and your brother would kill me if I brought back popsicle Poison instead of Party Poison.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Take the jacket.”

Poison groaned and took it, finding it warm and quite a bit too large for them. “How fucking tall are you?”

“Hmm. Five foot nine, or about that, I’d guess? I think that was what it was, anyways.” 

“Have I mentioned that I hate you?”

“Twice already.”

Poison glared at him again, still shivering a little, but just then, Newsie’s motorcycle pulled up with a roar of engines, nearly blinding them both with the headlights. NewsAGoGo themself leaned over to yell up at the truck.

“Hey, Cola, fucker, brought your toolkit!”

“Thanks, Newsie,” Cola called back. He turned to Poison. “Seems like you won’t be stuck with me much longer, which I figure you’ll appreciate. I am insufferable, after all.”

Poison huffed a sigh. “You’re a bastard, Pepsi, you know that, right?”

“Love you too, Party Poison.”

- 

By the time Party Poison arrived home that night, it was probably around two am. Cherri Cola had driven them back to the diner, insisting that it was only fair after putting them through that terrible run. Poison could have pointed out that it was actually Dr. D who sent them with him, but it was easier to just let Cola have his way. Besides the fact that they didn’t know how they would have gotten back to the diner without his help, given that Jet had dropped them off at Dr. D’s radio station that afternoon. 

The diner was silent as they walked in, but to their surprise, Kobra Kid was awake and sitting at one of the tables. 

“Hey, Pois.”

“Hey, fuckface. What are you doing up?” They kept their voice low as so not to wake up Fun Ghoul, who was snoozing in a different booth. Xe was curled up tightly- remarkably like a cat, actually.

“Waiting for you, dumbass.” Kobra didn’t look up at them, absorbed in whatever he was working on.

Poison’s throat felt strangely tight. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would have been fine if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to know you were safe. Jet did too, but I made him sleep.”

They blinked a few times, trying to ignore the burning in their throat. It must have been the dust that was making their eyes water. “Well, I’m safe and fine. Didn’t appreciate being stuck with Cola, but he’s not that insufferable.”

Kobra snorted. “Why the change of heart?” 

“Talked to him a bit,” Poison shrugged. “Still insufferably nice and a bit of a pushover, but there are worse things to be than nice.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?” Kobra actually looked up this time, not waiting for a response before he muttered “Thanks, Pois.”

“Of course, fuckface.” Poison headed towards the back of the diner, where they knew Jet would be firmly passed out on their bed, but they paused to pull Kobra into a hug first. “I love you, you bastard. Even if I don’t say it.”

“What are you, sentimental?” Kobra didn’t pull away, despite his harsh words, and Poison could hear what he didn’t (and wouldn’t) say as he threw his arms around them in return. “Also, why are you wearing Cola’s jacket?”

“Fuck, I’ll need to give that back to him tomorrow. Was cold out there, and mine is covered in slime- and in the back of Cola’s truck. Fuck.”

“You’re an airhead.”

“Fuck you.”

"Fuck you too."

Despite that, Poison didn’t pull away and neither did Kobra, until eventually they did have to let go because Poison was starting to yawn.

But when they got up, Kobra followed them to the back of the diner, pausing in front of the door to his little room. “Night, Poison.”

They shot him a tiny, tired smile. “Night, Kobra.”

Their room was dark and quiet, and for once the presence across the hall felt like warmth and security as opposed to a reminder of one more way they had failed. Poison climbed into the bed, snuggling up against Jet Star, who stirred briefly before falling back asleep. They didn’t bother to take off Cola’s jacket; it was cold in here, alright? But Jet was warm, even if the desert night was freezing, so it was only a few minutes before Poison’s exhausted eyes slid shut.