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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

Somehow I managed to post Chapter 2 on A03 a few days ago without posting on tumblr... I’m not sure how many people actually depend on tumblr for fic these days, but in case you do, here you go!

McDanno, T, A03

Summary: After 10x22 when Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away. Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Chapter 2

May 20, 2020

SM: Hey, where’s Danny?

LG: With Tani, I think, heading to a crime scene on the north shore. Sure glad to have him back. Otherwise it would have been me getting up at the ass crack of dawn when Duke called.

SM: Does Danny seem ready?

LG: Ready to come back to work? Sure. Shirts are crisp, slacks nicely pressed, hair sprayed firmly in place. Your boy looks great.

SM: Ribs not hurting him anymore?

LG: Maybe a little, but it’s not slowing him down much.

SM: He hasn’t been answering my texts.

LG: Did you do something to piss him off?

SM: Probably. I usually do. Not sure what this time, though.

TR: Don’t stress, boss. Danny’s right here, looking sharp as always. we’re in the car.

SM: Tani, what have I said about no driving and texting?

TR: I’m not - Danny’s driving.

SM: Can I talk to him? Put it on speaker.

TR: That would require you to actually call him. Maybe give it a few minutes though? We’re a little busy right now.

SM: What, he can’t drive and talk on the phone at the same time?

TR: It’s the dodging of bullets that might make that challenging. Not that Danny isn’t a great multi-tasker, but it seems like an unnecessary risk.

SM: Tani, what the hell is going on?

LG: Damn. On my way.

SM: Tani, report, now.

JR: What just happened?

SM: Junior, why aren’t you with Danny? And where’s Quinn?

JR: Day off, sorry sir.

SM: Someone call HPD, why don’t you have any back up?

TR: No worries, the perp’s not chasing us anymore. His car flipped over and sort of slid down the dunes. Probably not good for the birds. But he definitely stopped shooting, so it’s all good.

DW has changed the name of the group text to My Camaro has another bullet hole and it’s Steve’s fault

May 21, 2020

SM: We have to talk about yesterday.

DW: Everything’s fine, Steve.

SM: It didn’t sound like it.

DW: We had it under control.

SM: Why was Tani texting when people were shooting at you? She should have been covering you, or calling for back up. She should have seen it coming. You should never have been in that position in the first place.

DW: One, Tani did nothing wrong, and two, mind your own beeswax.

SM: Mind my own – what’s that supposed to mean?

DW: Think about it for a minute, you’ll figure it out.

SM: Are you even recovered enough for active duty?

DW: Oh, now you’re interested in my health?

SM: Danny, Five-0 is still my team, my responsibility.

DW: Is it, now? Funny, because I’m pretty sure the governor told me I’m in charge.

SM: Temporarily.

DW: Indefinitely. Or have you booked a flight home that you haven’t told us about?

SM: Danny, we’ve been over this.

DW: Don’t I know it.

SM: I’m just concerned about all of you.

DW: Great. Come home and take your job back. Otherwise keep your mouth shut.

SM: I’m not criticizing, it’s just that it doesn’t seem like yesterday went exactly according to plan.

DW: According to plan? Since when have you ever done anything according to plan? You are the head of not having a plan, the Czar of plan-less-ness, the President of who needs a fucking plan.

LG: You guys do remember this is a group text, right?

June 2, 2020

JR: Do any of you know what was in the package Danny got today?

TR: You could just ask him.

JR: I would, but he opened it up and then locked himself in his office and he’s been on the phone for half an hour.

QL: Might be a sign that he wants some privacy.

TR: You think?

JR: So I shouldn’t ask him?

TR: No, you should definitely ask him. But maybe bring him some malasadas when you barge into his office, it might soften the blow.

LG: Or distract him enough that he doesn’t hit your head when he throws something at you.

DW: It’s kind of late for malasadas, but I’d love a sandwich from Machete’s. Turkey and salami, Italian dressing instead of mayo.

JR: Yes sir.

LG: You’re enjoying this boss thing, aren’t you, Danny?

DW: It’s good to be king. At least where lunch is concerned.

TR: So are you going to tell us what was in the package?

DW: Will you do my paperwork for the week?

TR: Yesterday you said I was worse at paperwork than Steve.

DW: Good point. Will you get Junior to do my paperwork?

JR: Hey, wait a minute, I’m getting the sandwiches.

TR: Deal. Don’t worry Junes, I’ll make it worth your while.

LG: TMI, children.

…

LG: Tani, spill. What was in the package?

DW: A stuffed squirrel. A stuffed animal. Not, like, a once was alive squirrel, like a toy.

QL: Who sent it to him?

TR: Apparently that piece of information wasn’t part of the deal.

JR: It’s from Steve.

TR: Danny told you?

JR: No, I looked at the return address. He put the package in the recycle bin in the break room.

DW: At least someone here has some detective skills.

LG: Okay, I’ll bite. Danny, why did Steve send you a squirrel? Is it for Charlie?

DW: Nope, it’s mine. And anyone who touches it is dead.

JR: So… who’s gonna grab it?

LG: Junior, I’d think twice. Danny’s got the power to assign you to walking the beat for the rest of the summer. I think that squirrel looks great right there where it is on Danny’s desk.

TR: He can be our honorary Five-0 mascot.

DW: Exactly. The very first Hawaiian squirrel.

DW: But let me reiterate, you may not touch him. If I see a tiny aloha shirt or a lei on my squirrel, heads will roll.

TR: I like this side of you, Danny. Very authoritative.

DW: The children do not respect me, Lou.

LG: Didn’t the governor say he needed extra security at that concert Saturday night?

DW: The heavy metal battle of the bands? The one that lasts for five hours, and features not just professional bands, but appearances from some of the most popular amateur head-banging groups around? Hm, I think he did. I was going to check with HPD to make sure it was covered. Do you think they need personal attention from Five-0?

TR: Danny, you might notice that a note has just been slipped under your door. It’s from me and Junior, attesting to our sincere understanding that the squirrel is off limits. Just in case you were wondering.

DW: And all is right with the world again.

LG: Amen, brother.

TR: But just out of curiosity, what are you going to name your apology squirrel? Pineapple?

DW: Thin ice, my friend, thin ice.

TR has changed the name of the group text to First Hawaiian Squirrel Fan Club

June 20, 2020

JR: Anyone want to come over and watch Jurassic Park with me and Charlie? We went a little overboard with the snacks.

LG: What kind of snacks?

JR: Primarily pretzels. For some reason I had never really looked that closely at the pretzel aisle at Foodland before. We got chocolate covered pretzels, pretzels stuffed with peanut butter, honey garlic pretzels, and probably some others too.

TR: What brought on this pretzel craving?

JR: Actually Charlie wanted pineapple pretzels.

LG: There is no such thing.

JR: That’s what I thought too, but it turns out I was totally wrong. The ABC store on my block has them.

LG: You are shitting me.

JR: They’re called Pretz. Pineapple flavor. They’re actually pretty good.

LG: Okay, I’m coming over just to taste those. Renee’s out tonight anyway.

TR: You’ll have to save me some. I’m hanging with Koa tonight.

LG: And what does our fearless leader think about pineapple pretzels?

JR: He probably won’t like them, but he’s not home.

TR: Babysitting, Junes?

JR: Charlie’s my pal, he’s not a baby. But yeah.

TR: Where’s Danny?

JR: On a date.

TR: That seems unlikely.

JR: That’s kind of harsh, isn’t it? Danny’s a good looking guy.

TR: Of course he is, that’s not what I meant.

DW: Thanks.

TR: Fuck I keep forgetting we’re all on this text.

JR: Danny, how’s your date going?

DW: It would probably be going better if I wasn’t texting you guys.

SM: Learned that lesson finally, did you?

DW: Steve, isn’t it a little late where you are?

SM: Never too late to help out a friend. Are you wearing the French blue button-down?

DW: No, it got ruined. I’m just wearing a black polo.

SM: Too bad, that’s a great shirt.

DW: I’m going to the mall tomorrow, there’s a sale at Lord & Taylor, I need new shirts. For some reason mine keep getting blood stains on them.

SM: Wish I could go with you, you do better with a wingman.

DW: It’s true, you talked me into buying two of those slim fit dark blue ones, and those are some of my favorites.

SM: Don’t be afraid to try darker shades, Danny. You resist it but in the end you look great.

DW: I did like the dark gray one you made me try on. But not the purple one. It made me look like a gigolo. Anyway blue’s still my favorite.

SM: It’s true, nothing makes your eyes sparkle like a blue shirt.

DW: And good company, of course.

LG: I feel like this thread has been hijacked by aliens.

TR: Aliens who like menswear. Danny, isn’t your date annoyed that you’re spending all this time texting?

DW: Oh, she left. I’ll be home soon, I’m just picking up some ice cream for the Jurassic Park marathon.

JR: I’m so confused.

SM: Don’t overthink it. But make sure Danny tries the pineapple pretzels.

#mcdanno #H50 #H50 fic #Hawaii Five-0 #Danny Williams #Steve McGarrett

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rogerblackwolf · 4 years ago

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The Hudson Incident

8 Miles North of Hudson, New York

-1938-

The skies were clear as the full moon shined down on the dense woodlands flanking the road. The sound of two sedans being the only disturbance as they drove towards their destination. Aside from the music on the radio, the four occupants were silent, none saying a word since they left Brooklyn. One, a priest, was reading a passage from his Bible and holding his rosary which was wrapped around his left hand. The man next to him, a skinny built fellow with neatly kept hair and peach fuzz named Michael, was staring out the window as if in thought, he'd sometimes look at an envelope that contained a file and read it likely out of boredom. The man in the front seat, who was of average build with short dark hair named Vin, fiddled with the dial of the radio but settled with what they were listening to before. Finally the driver, a heavier set man with a slight Italian accent named Luca, spoke.

"Alright, it's been a few hours and no one's said a word."

"Maybe there's nothing to say." Vin responded.

"Really Vin? You've had a wisecrack or smartass thing to say about anything and everything and Now is the time you got nothing?" Luca replied

"Like I said." Vin repeated

"Calm down Luca, The Organization got us all on edge." Michael said.

"If you call going into a cultist compound full of trigger happy saps, all to destroy some artifact, on edge. I mean we don't even know what this artifact is anyway." Luca adds

"We don't need to know, just that these people plan to use it for something not good." Vin says

"Oh come on for God's sakes-" Luca starts only to be cut off by the priest.

"Do not take His name in vain." He scolds

"Alright, Alright...sorry Father Bruni, just nervous is all." Vin replied apologizing.

"You are forgiven. But be sure to go to confession as soon as you can." Father Bruni said.

The ride was silent for another few minutes before Luca turned off the main road followed by the second car. Michael looked at the file for the fifth or sixth time during the ride. The cult they were going after was set up in the old Bryant Sanitorium, closed during the peak of the Depression for lack of funds and unethical practices. The cult was called Pathway to Heaven, led by a man who was known only as The Speaker, a self-proclaimed prophet who claimed to know a way to Heaven. The Sanitorium had been under surveillance for a week, during which it was determined that there were thirty members, that they were armed, and strange lights emitted from the building's basement windows. Luca pulled off to the side of the road, the other car following suit. The gate was no more than fifty yards ahead, the main building just beyond it across a sizable front drive and of course the gate is chained, complete with a padlock.

"Ok...let's get the guns. And the bolt cutters." Luca said as everyone gathered at their car trunks. Michael pulled a strap in the floor to reveal multiple M1921 Thompson submachine guns, a pair of Browning Automatic Rifles; or BARs, a separate box had several Colt 1911s, and plenty of ammo for each firearm. The second car had a similar setup only instead of BARs they had a pair of Winchester Model 12 shotguns as well as a crate of dynamite and grenades. As everyone grabbed their weapons and some grenades, Michael took a 1911 and offered it to Father Bruni.

"Father I know you aren't allowed to carry guns but I doubt these cultists will be kind to you." He said

To his surprise, he took it and loaded a single magazine.

"There is no verse in scripture that says I am not allowed to defend myself. I am a man of peace, but I also understand that when peace is not an option then force is required." He explains.

As the rest of the group gathered, Father Bruni asked everyone to bow their heads. He then prayed for their success, their safety, for guidance in their mission, and protection from evil as he felt the sinister forces at work even from this distance. Upon him saying "Amen" Father Bruni asked Michael to take the lead with Luca and Vin while the others, led by a man named Thomas, watched their backs.

Vin cut the padlock and gently opened the creaky gate, the old sign on it read "Jeremy Bryant Sanitorium for the Mentally Ill", the group of eight men briskly made their way across the drive to the front double doors, only to find them locked.

"Now what?" Luca asks

"There's a reason I brought dynamite." Thomas suggests

"They will get a rude awakening." Vin commented as everyone gave Thomas some space. He rigged a three stick bundle on the door handles, set the timer and ran to hunker down with everyone behind a low wall off to the side. The following explosion practically splintered the tall double wooden doors, windows on the first and second floors were shattered sending glass everywhere. With the dust beginning to settle the men rushed in, firing their Thompsons and BARs at the cultists who came to investigate. Between dodging bullets and taking cover Bruni could see these cultists were not human, something was terribly wrong. Aside from the gunfire, Bruni could also hear faint chanting in no language he knew.

As the group of men proceeded through the halls, they saw many strange symbols written in blood. The further they went into the bowels of the Sanitorium, the more the men felt presences all around them, shadows danced and formed inhuman images. The cultists also seemed off, Bruni noticed strange and gruesome ailments had befallen the individual cultists.

Many were covered with injuries that looked self inflicted, bloodshot eyes, and blackened veins around the face.

"These men...they are under some kind of spell. Their actions are not their own." Bruni warned

"I don't think they'd listen to us anyway, Father." Luca said as he checked a corner.

Down the hall, just beyond a closed set of double doors, the group heard the chanting clearly as well as seeing a red glow on the other side. The group slowly walked towards the doors, feeling a powerful pulse of energy pass over them every few seconds. When they get close to the doors, the pulse is so strong it forces them all back a step. Bruni steps to the door and goes to grab the handle only for all of them to hear the sounds of multiple people screaming.

"Thomas, blow the door." Bruni ordered.

The group took cover in an alcove taking the time to reload their weapons, once Thomas joined them they braced for the explosion. Once the initial shockwave had passed the group eased their way towards the room, the doors were obliterated by the explosion, blackened burns on the stone floor marking the direction of the fireball into the room.

Inside the room the group saw a more gruesome scene. Gathered in a circle of candles and cryptic symbols were the bodies of five cultists, their throats slit, the blood flowed through channels along the floor to a dais covered in the same runes the group had seen throughout the building. Just past the dais stood a male figure dressed in a white robe, his brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and his face was clean shaven. He looked human but the air around him felt anything but, especially as an unsettling smile curled across his face.

"You are too late. It is done. The Path is open." He said in a distorted voice.

He then revealed an amulet from around his neck, both it and the symbols began glowing bright crimson he then resumed the chant. The room darkened as inhuman voices joined in, the candles flickered as the blood in the dais started gathering in a floating orb of pulsating liquid. The amulet siphoned the blood from the orb seemingly empowering the Speaker.

"Put him down!" Michael shouted followed by the hail of gunfire, when one of the men ran out of ammo in his BAR he dropped it and pulled two 1911s to continue the fire. The Speaker was hit so many times his robe changed from white to red, the orb splattered onto the dais as the runes ceased glowing along with the amulet. Everyone sighed with relief before investigating the room, Bruni walked towards The Speaker stepping over the blood as best he could. When he closed the distance the presence of evil was easily felt on the medallion, which he now realized was made of carved bones, dark forces were at work darker than any man could conjure. Bruni retrieved his bible and a flask of holy water, beginning to read whilst splashing the holy water on the dais and body. Bruni, as well as the others, were caught off guard when the body began to twitch; a little at first but more violently once touched by the holy water. The twitching was replaced with bones breaking and violent convulsing, The Speaker got to his feet revealing his full transformation. A pair of horns sprouted from his head, a tail whipped out from under his robe, and claws adorned his hands.

"You cannot stop me!" He roared.

Bruni did not stop his incantation while splashing the last of the holy water into the Speaker's face. Unholy screams of agony and pain were heard as the holy water burned the creature like acid. The creature lunged at Bruni only for its fangs to scratch the metal of Bruni's 1911 as the barrel was shoved into the creature's mouth. The first shot sent it to the ground, the next three to the head ensured it wouldn't get back up. The men came to check on the father only for him to finish his incantation.

"In nomine patri, et filii, Spiritus Sancti, Amen." He said while making the symbol of the cross with his free hand.

Bruni reached down to the amulet, upon touching it he was bombarded with multiple visions. Visions of a dark world filled with mountains of skulls, oceans of fire and blood, cries of agony while dark figures chanted and cackled at their nefarious deeds of slaughter. He watched vast armies rising and clashing, beasts made of iron and steel trampling the land, and cities turned to ash in an instant. He then saw a creature that looked akin to a dragon cloaked in shadow and flame, speaking a tongue he didn't know but it filled him with primal fear especially when it lunged to devour him. Bruni was then thrust back to reality with Luca and Vin restraining him while Michael calmed him down. Bruni calmed after a moment before Michael asked him;

"What should we do now Father?"

"This place is filled with evil. That amulet is an instrument of chaos itself, I fear the influence it would have if it ever left this place. Thomas, use what dynamite you have left to destroy this room and that infernal thing. We need to return to the Organization, tell them that this place must be buried along with its secrets." Father Bruni explained as beads of sweat drizzled from his brow.

Thomas went to work as everyone else began leaving the building Thomas caught up just as they exited the front door. By the time they reached the gate the fireball engulfed the entire right side of the building, the floors fell through into the basement. The group watched the fire for a time before finally getting into their cars, leaving the Sanatorium and it's dark secrets. Even still Father Bruni felt that what he saw, were they simple visions made to strike fear into him? Or were they premonitions of a future that has yet to come? Either way, they had succeeded in putting a fear in him he could not easily shake...nor escape.

#BSRC #Story 5

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years ago

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Love in a Ruined World

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 9: Unwelcome Interlopers

Belle gently dabbed a cool cloth on Hook's forehead, all while giving him a very wary look.

"Thank you love," he said, as he noticed her weariness.

"I take it you remember me," he muttered.

"All too well, Captain," she answered.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry for that. It was never personal...just a man seeking revenge," he said, as he looked at the Crocodile.

"I'm sure you understand that," he added.

"Comparing us will not bode well for you, pirate," Rumple hissed. Hook smirked and looked to Regina.

"It's lovely to see you again, Your Majesty," he said.

"She was supposed to be dead years ago...I saw her in the tomb, back in our land," Regina said.

"Yes...that was a deception, I'm afraid. Cora knew you didn't want her to come with you and the curse, but she also knew that you'd need your mother someday," he replied.

"Well, I don't...she would have caused nothing but trouble," Regina spat.

"That's an understatement, though I would have enjoyed seeing the life leave her eyes," Rumple agreed.

"Rumple…" Belle scolded.

"I'm sorry Belle, but Cora would have burned this town to the ground if she was given the opportunity," he said.

"Aye...that was her plan, among other things. She was so sure there was magic here when we came through the portal," he mentioned.

"You know, I imagined a lot of things when you told me about the curse, but nothing quite as bad as this. You really condemned your subjects to some deplorable conditions," he added.

"You think I did this?" Regina questioned.

"You mean this isn't the curse?" he asked.

"No...I happened to curse us to a very nice town, with modern amenities. This all happened as the curse was breaking and I had nothing to do with it," Regina replied.

"I'm not sure I understand," he said.

"There was an apocalyptic type event in the outside world that happened just as Emma broke the curse. Believe it or not, Storybrooke fared a bit better than the rest of the world," Belle replied.

"Yes...and the potion I made to bring magic to Storybrooke was destroyed in the fall out," Rumple added.

"Too bad for you," Hook leered.

"This world is ruined. Animals are becoming scarce, the winters are too harsh, and if we have a bad crop in the warmer months, then it's all over. We're not even sure we'll all survive this coming winter," Regina said.

"Well then...perhaps I'll end up being your Savior," Hook replied.

"You're no Savior. If you have a way back, you'll help us in order to save your own skin," Rumple retorted.

"Details," Hook said, hissing in pain, as Whale arrived, scrubbed as best as he could be in these conditions and ushered them all away, except for his nurse.

"Okay nurse...go with the ether," he said, as she used the crude method to put their patient to sleep, before Whale picked up his scalpel.

~*~

When they arrived at Hook's ship, Emma and Neal trudged through the snow and up the ramp. David held Snow's hand, as they carefully followed them onto the ship.

"Hook was right," Emma called to her father, as he kept his hand in Snow's, but decidedly blocked her view of the body. He had never seen the woman before and only knew her by the deeds his wife had described to him. There was a bullet in the center of her forehead, a calculated shot and there was still a look of surprise on her face, as her eyes were frozen open in death.

"She knew my father well, according to him. Whoever did this probably encountered them and she likely didn't even think for a moment that there might be no magic," Neal offered in explanation.

"Which means they didn't even have time to even look out over the horizon at town. Seeing the ruin might have clued them in that something wasn't right," Emma said.

"Which means someone may have seen the ship coming into port," David added, as he felt his wife slowly peek around his shoulder.

"Snow…" he warned, as he watched her face and she swallowed thickly. The carnage was not for someone even with a strong stomach. It was troubling even for him and they both had unfortunately seen worse during their war to take back the Kingdom. Still...that was a long time ago and he hated the thought of her or their daughter seeing this.

Snow put a hand to her mouth and then closed her eyes, as he took her in his arms.

"Mom...are you okay?" Emma asked. Snow nodded.

"She was a terrible woman…" the raven haired beauty said.

"Mom...it's okay," Emma assured.

"No...I shouldn't feel relieved that she's gone. That's wrong," Snow chided herself. David sighed and gently stroked her back in a soothing manner.

"Not with all that you've been through, my darling. Especially since we both know that she was the catalyst for most of it," he reasoned, as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"He's right, Mom...you have nothing to be sorry for. This woman was clearly coming here to hurt our family," Emma said.

"She's right...I've been through Henry's book and she even hurt my Dad. I think you know that getting one up on him is not easy, but this woman did. She was dangerous to us all, even Henry. I'm not afraid to say that I'm glad she got a bullet in her brain," Neal said bluntly.

"She started all this. She put Regina on her path, which led to me growing up alone," Emma reminded, as Snow sniffed.

"I know...oh Emma, I'm so sorry. If I had just never listened to her…" Snow cried.

"Mom...it's not your fault. You were just a little girl that had lost her own mother," Emma said, as she hugged her mother tightly.

"She's right, my darling," David added, as he pressed a kiss to her hat covered head. Snow nodded.

"I'm sorry...it's just seeing her brought up a lot of bad memories," she said, as David put his arms around her from behind and hugged her close.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he assured, as he pecked her on the lips.

"He's right...but we do need to figure out who did this, because they shot Hook too. To shoot someone in the head like this is savage, which means we're dealing with someone possibly just as ruthless as Cora," Neal surmised.

"I really hate it when you're right," Emma said, as she poked around the deck and frozen when she came upon a cage with a man inside.

"Uh guys...we have another body!" she called, as she examined him.

"Is he alive?" Neal asked, as she put her hand through the bars and placed two fingers to his pulse point. Her heart sank, as she found none.

"No...he's dead," she replied, as looked at his wounds.

"Two gunshot wounds to the chest," Emma said.

"Whoever he was...obviously was Cora and Hook's prisoner," Neal added.

"And not a threat, but they shot him anyway," David said bitterly.

"People are ruthless now. Seems like humanity is one thing some people are short on nowadays," Neal said, also in a bitter tone.

"What's this…" Emma wondered aloud, as she saw a string around his neck with something attached to it. She gave it a small tug and extracted the item.

"What is it?" Snow asked.

"Some dried up...bean?" she said in confusion, but Neal's eyes widened, as he grabbed it from her hand and looked at it in awe.

"This isn't just any bean...this is a magic bean," he realized.

"It looks dead though," Emma replied.

"That doesn't mean there's still not magic in it," David said, with hope in his voice.

"This could be it...this could be the key to saving everyone," Snow realized, as she smiled at him, until they heard the cocking of a gun from behind them.

"You must be the person that put the bullet in these two," David said dryly.

"Good guess...now it's your turn," the man hissed.

"No…" Snow pleaded, as his eyes caught sight of her.

"Well, well...aren't you a looker," he commented, as he looked Snow up and down.

"The blonde too...you keep beautiful company," he added

"You know, blondes are always fun...but if I'm honest, dark haired broads are what really get my motor running, if you get my drift," he leered.

"Call her that again and we're going to have a problem," David warned. The man chuckled.

"You're about three seconds away from a bullet in your brain. What exactly are you going to do?" he questioned.

"Please...don't hurt him," Snow begged, frantic at the thought of losing him again. And this time it wouldn't be to a curse. This time it would be to death.

"Oh and what are you willing to do to see that I don't?" he leered to her. Snow swallowed thickly and looked tearfully at her husband.

"You know what...I'll find out what you can do soon enough. I have a feeling you're going to keep me very warm tonight," he leered, as four men came onto the deck of the ship.

"Take her. The blonde too," he said, as they advanced.

"No way in hell…" David growled, as one of them grabbed Snow's arm. She responded in kind by kicking her foot hard into his gut. The man that had his gun on David snarled and pointed it at her and David capitalized on the opportunity. He threw his weight into the other man and grappled for the gun. He held the other man's arms up over their heads and the gun went off several times, harmlessly spending bullets into the air, as they fought for it.

"Bad mistake, pretty boy," he snarled, as he kneed David in the abdomen. Meanwhile, Emma and Neal fought off the others and dodged bullets themselves. Emma managed to find a fishing spear and after her assailant shot at her, she hurled the spear at him, impaling him in the chest, killing him.

Neal climbed the mast and grabbed one of the ropes in the bird's nest that was attached to a pulley. He watched the two men corner her and launched one of the rope pulleys down on them, smashing one of them in the head with it, knocking him out.

"Nice shot," Emma called, as the other man started firing his gun up at Neal, who ducked inside the bird's nest. He waited until he stopped firing and Emma beamed him with a metal rod she'd found on the deck. He growled and ran at her. Neal made his move and used the rope to slide down with the pulley. He kicked the man and sent him flying off the ship, into the icy ocean waters.

Meanwhile, Snow and David fought the leader, who proved to be insanely strong, as David traded punches with him. Snow waited for her opportunity and beamed him across the back with another fishing spear she had found, getting his attention away from her husband.

"That was a bad mistake, girl," the leader hissed.

"Woman," she corrected, as she thrust the spear at him, but he caught it by the shaft and yanked it away from her, before tossing it away and stalking toward her.

"Bad, bad mistake," he taunted, as he raised his arm, intending to backhand her, but his arm was caught from behind, as David tackled him with a fierce growl and threw him against the mast.

"The only mistake was yours in even thinking about touching her or my daughter," David growled, not caring that outsiders had a hard time wrapping their heads around Emma being his daughter since they looked the same age.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but I assure you that I'm not a man you want to cross. I'm from the big leagues, pal and you're way out of your depth," he promised.

"We'll see," David retorted.

"You're from New York," Neal muttered.

"Bingo...and I'm not just from New York. I run New York," he boasted.

"So you've come here...thinking you'll run here too," David deduced.

"So there are brains in that pretty head," he jabbed snidely.

"I got word from an informant that things are a bit rosier here in Maine and I decided to come see why. Not sure why this spot of a town fared better than the rest, but I intend to make it a part of my growing empire," he stated.

"You're Cane. I heard about you before you left New York," Neal stated.

"Right again, not that it matters since you're about to get lead poisoning," he threatened. Snow moved in and beamed him with an ore across the back. David capitalized on that and swept the man's legs out from under him. He unsheathed his sword and pointed the tip at Cane's throat, allowing his daughter to cuff him.

"Sorry...this isn't New York," she warned, as they hauled him to his feet.

"Who told you about us?" David questioned. Cane smirked.

"I'm not going to out my mole," he refuted.

"And if I don't check in soon...my other men will come for me," he warned.

"Just shut up and move," Neal snapped, as they left the Harbor and took him to the station. They had the dried bean and now they just needed to see if there was any magic left in it. For that, they needed to take it to Rumpelstiltskin.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Swanfire #Rumbelle #Henry Mills #Regina Mills #AU #post apocalyptic storybrooke #romance #adventure #family #love in a ruined world

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courtana · 6 months ago

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Hello. This is Mahmoud again. Could you please boost my campaign and reblog my new post titled ''On the Same Planet but in Different Worlds: Gazans are Humans Too"? My campaign was vetted by el-shab-hussein #151 on the "Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List'' as explained in my recent blog. https://www.tumblr.com/mahmoudkhalafff/756348925926047744/on-the-same-planet-but-in-different-worlds-gazans?source=share

Hi, Mahmoud. Sure! I'll boost your campaign again and reblog your new post.

Mahmoud’s campaign is vetted and is #151 on shab-hussein and nabulsi’s spreadsheet of Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List. It’s also #4 on fallahifag’s list here.

He has €14,321 raised of his €30,000 goal.

Mahmoud is a Ph.D. student in Ireland raising funds to evacuate his family of 8 from Gaza. They’ve been displaced four times due to the war, and have feared for their lives on numerous occasions, including when they narrowing dodged the occupying army’s sniper bullets. He hopes that by organizing this campaign, he can help his family leave the famine and destruction taking place in Gaza. The funds will be used for the coordination fees with the Egyptian Hala travel agency to get his family to safety in Egypt, as well as for daily expenses once in Egypt.

Please share & donate to their GFM link below:

And please reblog & boost his new text post!

#messages #mahmoudkhalafff #gofundme #palestine #gaza genocide #gaza #free gaza #free palestine #donate #donate if you can #funds for gaza #gaza fundraiser #boost #operation olive branch #donation boost #signal boost

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truthbeetoldmedia · 6 years ago

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The 100 6x05 "The Gospel of Josephine" Review

Y’all breathing okay? I think there were a few times when I held my breath this episode and boy howdy! I’m glad The 100 can still give me those moments. Now let’s dive right in to the episode:

Bonjour Josephine!

Last week we got a tiny bite of Josephine. Tonight we got the whole "gâteau opéra”, emphasis on “opera”, for the story of the Primes seems to be a long and bloody Shakespearean affair on an alien moon. Jaux!Clarke (see what I did there?) has barely fired up her silicone memories before she dispatches poor Kaylee with a cheese knife. Apparently Kaylee assisted, or at least didn’t prevent, Josephine’s last host body’s “death”, and she’s been on ice for six years waiting for a new host to be born and grow up. (Which we learn later is because they need a fully developed over-21 adult brain to host an adult’s memory chip, as they overload and kill child hosts. Glad we don’t have to see how they know that.)

Apparently Russell and Simone “jumped line” to bring back Josephine so I’m assuming it’s setup like an organ donor list, except people wait actual decades to talk to their loved ones again. The price of eternal life, eh? Also I can bet there will be some VERY unhappy Primes once they find out Russell and Simone cut line to get their daughter back amongst the living. Josephine seems to be hardened by her long life, and thinks very pragmatically and cold. She has successfully “other-ed” everyone except her loved ones...which is not comforting but also, I can’t help but think the gang would be very happy to have old Clarke back when they get a taste of real cold indifference from Jaux!Clarke.

Her “parents” give her time to adjust and we see Jaux!Clarke painting while dancing to French rap — a sentence I never thought I’d type for a sci-fi show review. She’s of course been given a task: find out how many nightbloods, aka hosts, our Space Popsicles have (since we really can’t call our gang the 100 or the delinquents anymore I’ve decided to call them this, fight me) to keep the Primes from becoming extinct. How hard can it possibly be to pretend to be Clarke right? All I thought was give Bellamy Blake and Jordan Green 10 minutes alone with her and she will figure that out real quick. (Also I was SO pleased to discover I was correct with guessing those two!)

Space Popsicle™️ Fam finds skeletons in the closet!

Jaux!Clarke meets up with Bellamy, Jordan, Gaia and the rest of the SpacePops™️ Fam and starts acting weird immediately. (Subtle at first but someone forgot to check if she knew Trig ha!) She dodges her first bullet and finds Abby to try and find out how many nightbloods might be on the main ship, only to hear herself called a monster and have Abby compare her book to the Eugenics books of our time. I enjoyed seeing her squirm at Abby’s assessment of her book, though Abby doesn’t have a lot of room to judge...

When Abby questions why her left-handed daughter is writing with her right hand, Jaux!Clarke needs to find a reason to exit stage left and she sees Bellamy and Murphy looking for Jordan and follows them. They find Jordan in the spooky science closet full of skeletons (subtle the Primes are not) and Bellamy is of course in full Dad mode™️, asking Jordan what the heck he’s doing. Jordan delivers quite possibly my favorite line of the season, thus far:

“What you would’ve done, The you before Praimfaya, anyway. Heart over head. That was always my favorite Bellamy.”

Monty and Harper's son, ladies and gentlemen!! Y’all I nearly jumped to my feet and clapped! Because that Bellamy is also my favorite Bellamy! And this whole season is a little odd feeling to me because Bellamy already feels like he’s been body snatched. Let’s hope this wonderful line delivered with perfection by the fabulous Shannon Kook is a sign we will get some old “I say, screw fear. I’m telling my own damn story” Bellamy Blake back this year! (Can I get an amen!)

Back to the science skeleton closet:

Jaux!Clarke Tries and fails to lure team SpacePops™️ out but Jordan and Gaia keep digging around and they end up watching the first “successful” upload of Josephine by Gabriel and her now very old looking father (og body) Russell. We also learned it took 25 years for them to develop and perfect the AI tech and lord knows how many corpses to get there.

We don’t know yet but I have a feeling we can guess the “old man” is Gabriel and “the Children of Gabriel” are followers against the “Primes ways” and are a result of him regretting playing God to get Josephine back and exiling himself once Josephine and fam got a little to unhinged about “hosts” and “nightblood”, leading others to follow his example. After Jaux!Clarke calls Murphy “John” and says a few other strange things, Bellamy asks to speak to her alone and, I’m just saying, if you watch this scene you see that Bellamy already KNoWS this isn’t “normal” Clarke. He isn’t sure what’s wrong yet, but he knows enough to test her and he can tell she can’t really understand what he’s saying in Trig! So he pulls a signature “Bellamy” move and yanks her back by the throat and starts asking questions because he’s now officially in panic mode —

BUT alas! She had a syringe of that lovely paralytic on hand just in case and the last thing we see in this scene is the horrible realization in Bellamy’s eyes as he lies helplessly paralyzed on the ground: there is a cold stranger behind his best friend’s beautiful blue eyes...and he cannot process his fear and loss fast enough. Welcome back heart over head Bellamy, we’ve missed you!!

Cut to Jaux!Clarke finding Murphy in the bar and revealing her true identity and confessing “Clarke is dead. My parents killed her” (listen I don’t buy it kids) and offering our favorite morally questionable cockroach something he might not be able to pass up: eternal life. Given his recent brush with death and sudden fear of hell….oh boy! It’s gonna take him a minute to realize he should help his friends, I just hope he realizes that before he’s made a full deal with the devil.

Diyoza and the Brat

This pair is a surprising team up, but if I have to suffer through Octavia’s “redemption” they couldn’t have picked a better reward than my favorite Season 5 addition (besides sweet Shaw! I’m still bitter about that guys) DIYOZA! Sassy, amazing fighter, the universe’s longest known pregnant lady. I could watch an entire show about her. (Also Ivana Milicevic is a dream in this role.) She’s the gift that keeps on giving, cool as a cucumber while stuck in space quicksand as Octavia is about to go under because she cannot be still for one second. Probably because if Octavia’s quiet she’ll think and with that comes dark thoughts: how she failed as a leader, how she was willing to abuse, torture and maybe even kill her brother, how her brother, the one person who she thought would always love her through her greatest faults, finally couldn’t take anymore and rejected her. She doesn’t have anything left to lose. Rock bottom meet Octavia Blake, Octavia Blake meet rock bottom.

Now I know I sound harsh but after Season 4 I was beyond seeing her as anything but a villain. I know she is on her way to redemption, but I’m glad they are giving her the long way through the dirt and mud, letting her soak in the cage of her own making a while. And giving us the wonderful Diyoza to lighten the mood. I am all for unsuspecting road trip buddies in shows (Arya and the Hound anyone?) but unfortunately so far all Octavia’s done is try to murder people, throw tantrums, and sulk. Oh well, at least Diyoza is getting in some practice for when she finally gets to have her 200-year-old baby! Really though bless her heart, she deserves some kind of sainthood for this.

Mount Weather + City of Light + Commander worship, shaken not stirred

I actually dig the intersecting of all the “bad guy” storylines into one big villain origin story wearing Clarke’s face. If nothing else it’s a poetic rehash of all the previous seasons, but refreshing enough to not seem stale...for the most part. I grow tired of the Flame/commander story and miss the more simple “teens surviving the unknown my learning to depend and care for each other” story of the first few seasons. BUT considering Season 5’s underwhelming last half, if there is one thing I can say about Season 6 of The 100...it’s not boring! And for a show that sometimes paces the plot too fast I was actually okay with that this time around! I did not want it to take three episodes for our fave family of 150 year old space popsicles to discover Clarke is “dead”. Also I am so glad it was the magic duo of Bellamy and Jordan that made the realization first.

Final thoughts

Eliza Taylor has grown so much as an actress over the seasons! She looks like she had so much fun playing Jaux!Clarke and she gave her such a different “spirit” than our usual worried and sometimes snarky but mostly serious Clarke Griffin. Just the way her eyes dance lets you know it’s not “real Clarke”.

I neglected to mention the importance of Jordan knowing “Delilah” before her change to Priya VII, so his spidey senses also go off around Clarke because he knows what a person who just got body snatched acts like! When he took “Delilah” the flowers I was like my poor son.

This episode was great because the focus was tighter and had fewer characters to keep up with! (Listen I love ensemble casts but they have not given Raven a strong independent storyline since Season 4, and I love Emori but she doesn’t really have a lot to do at the moment either, as for Echo...why she was made a main character when Harper was right there all those seasons? I’ll never know.) All that to say, I like when they break up the cast a bit and just focus on a few at a time to really get that interpersonal development between characters. That used to be the bread and butter of this show. Don’t get me wrong, I still love The 100 and find it unique and fun and twisty and exhilarating and at times beautifully heartbreaking.

(Episodes 1x05, 1x07, 1x13, 2x15, 2x16, 4x13 and 5x13 are perfect examples of this.)

But I do yearn for those slower, deeper days of, say, a boy and a girl grappling with the moral quandary of torturing a stranger tied up in the cockpit of a crashed spaceship to save a dying friend. Sometimes bigger and shiner isn’t always better. But no matter how this season goes, The 100 is still one of my favorite TV shows ever, and deserves a spot up there with a lot of other great sci-fi dramas of the past two decades.

As of now all I need to know is: where the heck is Bellamy Blake and is he okay?!

Gina’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

#The 100 #The Gospel of Josephine

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opedguy · 4 years ago

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Ukraine’s Zelensky Shows Practical Side

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), Jan. 31, 2021.--With 74-year-old President Donald Trump off the world stage, many countries, including Ukraine, breathed a sigh of relief, with Trump pitting the U.S. against China in what became his downfall. While there’s no doubt that U.S. and European companies shifted manufacturing to China, Trump liked to demagogue the issue, blaming China for the loss of manufacturing jobs in the U.S. and Europe. But if you’re honest of how China became the manufacturing hub for the world’s biggest companies, it has everything do with dollars-and-cents. Assembling and manufacturing in China lost U.S. and European jobs but it also provided cheap inflation-proof goods the U.S. and EU. Truth be told, U.S. and EU consumers weren’t interested in paying higher prices for domestically manufactured goods, especially if there was no quality difference, something obvious to U.S. and EU consumers.

Trump created a fierce competition with China not so much to return manufacturing back to the U.S. but to play politically to his base, also joining with Trump xenophobic message. Even calling the novel coronavirus AKA SARS CoV-2 or Covid-19 the “China virus,” Trump hoped to pin the blame on 67-year-old Chinese President Xi Jinping. Whether the virus emerged from a Wuhan laboratory or not, the public wasn’t concerned about holding China accountable, only dealing with the deadly outbreak in the U.S. Trump hoped he could find other allies to join his trade war against Beijing, but, in the end, most countries wanted to end the virus not battling it out with China. Trump hoped that 43-year-old former comedian, Ukrainian President Voldymyr Zelensky would go along with his China trade war, only to find out Zelensky, like other leaders, didn’t want to rock the boat.

President Joe Biden, 78, hasn’t quite figured out how to approach China, especially because of his family’s business dealings in China’s energy industry. Zelensky made it clear it would not fight the U.S. battle with China. “There really is this sort of Cold War between China and the United States,” Zelensky said, serving notice to 58-year-old newly minted Secretary of State Tony Blinken that Ukraine would not join the U.S. Cold War with China. “We know the United States is represented in Ukraine, but at the same time, it’s true that Chinese business is also represented. Blinken has already alienated Russian President Vladimir Putin, he can’t afford to get on Xi Jinping’s bad side. Blinken couldn’t contain himself getting into another phony argument about Russian democracy, pushing Putin to free 44-year-old pro-Democracy activist Alexi Navalny and other dissidents.

Zelensky, who refused to step into domestic American politics giving Trump what he wanted on Biden and his 50-year-old son Hunter, the Ukrainian president showed the wisdom to stay out of Trump’s trade wars with China. He figured out that former U.S. Trade Representative Peter Navarro, who wrote the book on China trade wars, was stirring the pot with no benefits in sight. Navarro managed to antagonize Beijing, criticizing its trade policies, but, more importantly, human rights abuses in Hong Kong and Tawain. “I believe that regardless of the nation, the nationality, if people, if business, if a certain country, treats you with respect, respecting your people and borders, they can present in your country. Zelensky has far more problems with Putin who continues to stir the pot in Southeastern Donbass region of Ukraine. Zelensky has bigger fish to fry than joining the U.S. fight with China.

Beijing as successfully lobbied to bring its Covid-19 vaccines to Ukraine and other countries competing with Pfizer, Moderna and now Johnson & Johnson. Zelensky said he has no problem bringing China’s Sinovac Biopharmaceutical vaccine to Ukraine, if supplies of Pfizer, Moderna or Johnson & Johnson are not available. Zelensky realized that the U.S. and EU have too much on their plate dealing with Covid-19 to supply Ukraine with vaccines. Navarro complained that Ukraine was increasing its trade with China, largely because they were far more amenable to doing business than the United States. Zelensky realized that he has a higher priority of providing goods, services and medicines for his people, than placating U.S. officials, like Nararro, obsessed with a useless trade war with China. Biden finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place, resuming normal business ties with China, while, at the same time, letting relations with Moscow deteriorate.

Zelensky wants Putin to enter serious negotiations about returning the Crimean Peninsula back to Ukraine, while getting Putin to back off supporting Ukraine’s breakaway Donbass region. Zelensky, like many developing countries, see China as an invaluable piece to improving the Ukrainian economy, not getting in the middle of a U.S. food-fight with China. All of Trump and Navarro’s trade war has gotten the U.S. very little, if not hurt the U.S. economy. With Trump gone, Biden can get back to a less combative relationship, letting Beijing do its thing, without condemning the Chinese for Covid-19 or for cracking down in Hong Kong. If Biden and Blinken want to get along with China, it’s no different than Russia, refraining from condemning China’s human rights record. Like Russia, China does what’s good for the Chinese Communist Party, not what’s good for Washington.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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hananeouddoud · 5 years ago

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17 Insanely Cool New Luxury Bicycles for Spring

Every the guy is aware of that sport is on associate degree unstoppable rise here within the U.S. Right now, the amount of simple machine commuters is up a walloping sixty p.c over the last decade, and, in several bike-happy locales, long rides ar with success displacement golf outings because of the new diversion of preference among dealmakers. however, if you are looking to affix the sporting elite, you are going to want a way cooler set of wheels than that recent 1980s-era Huffy lying in your garage.

From ultra-flashy designer models to ultra-high-end, superior ones which will get you a ticket, here are the most effective new luxury rides for spring. And yes, they are high-ticket. however, consider them just like the Jaegar-LeCoultres of cycling: you are not simply shopping for them for yourself—you're conjointly holding onto them for a successive generation. And if you are within the marketplace for alternative wildly cool luxury items—such as a classic automobile, an Equus caballus, even a non-public island—here's our complete guide to purchasing something.

Meet the enduring Yankee bikemaker's starship of a "superbike," associate degree ultra-light beauty you'll be able to purchase (for a restricted time) in head-turning, Dodge serpent red. Put simply, this beast is all aeromechanics, speed, and potency. If you are biking with your boss, strive to not leave him within the dirt.

As sleek as a panther and light-weight as a Felis domesticus, this bike from Bastion on the face of it defies physics. Considering that complete models weigh in as low as fourteen pounds, 2 queries come back to mind. (How? And: once am I able to ride one?) If you are patient, though, we propose waiting till June, once their updated model, the CX, comes out.

Inspired by the motorcycles of the first twentieth century, Lord Bike's creation is each a beauty and a beast. Despite spirited curves and spirited color choices, a rear-mounted motor ensures this factor will high forty mph. Zoom, zoom.

You can't get it wrong with a classic. Back in 1962, Moulton came out with the first-ever "small wheel" bicycle. Ever since they have been purification. And purification. Until now, finally, perfection: the sturdiest, most snug commuter bike the corporate has ever designed.

Meet the most effective damn cycle bike on the market. better of all: its battery-powered, therefore you associate degreed your lady pal will have an extra-breezy ride.

For the speed demons and road racers out there, this one's for you. By treating wind and flow as assets rather than obstacles, the engineers at Cicli Matteo have created associate degree mechanics bike that's nearly proof against turbulence. simply do not expect to prevent on a dime.

Montante has been creating bicycles for nearly a century. And this model, above all, looks raised straight from the fundamental quantity once the corporate was supported. Complete with a stand and twin Pineider baggage, it is the good ride for selling from restaurant to restaurant during an active European metropolis—like, say, Milan.

When you are going on a picnic, tick off everything on your searching list: cheese, crackers, caviar, wine, and a motorcycle (equipped with a picnic basket) that prices the maximum amount as a BMW. Moynat's basket is sure in luxurious animal skin and comes with a group of tableware, napkins, and homemade bicycles from the masters at Abici Italy.

The tiny bike trend was presupposed to be a trend. however, Lios has breathed new life into the trend, by making associate degree esthetically pleasing iteration, while not sacrificing any strength or practicality. As a bonus, it will be doubled in seconds and carried around, sort of a case. Or, given the worth tag, a baby.

Every bike created by Cicli Art workplace is hand made and –decorated. each could be a distinctive piece of art. This style with great care happens to be supported by a manuscript from the sixteenth century, a few men you will have detected of engineer da Vinci.

This wonderful monstrosity sacrifices everything—elegance, whimsy, precision, meticulous style—associated with trendy bicycle design within the name of 1 thing: pure, raw power. B2G Bikes put in a five,000-watt the engine on the Red RSR and once pushed to the goop, the bike will hit speeds of nearly fifty mph. Wear a helmet, please.

Stromer has created the maybe most digitally integrated bicycle on the market. The ST2 syncs up along with your smartphone to supply GPS trailing, remote standardization capabilities, and even thievery protection: if somebody tries to require your bike, it'll power down, and become nearly not possible to pedal. Then the GPS trailing kicks in, and points you right to the felon.

You can 3D-print something of late, even a bullet. Or one thing as quick as a bullet. It takes 3 months for associate degree order from Métier Vélo to be completed—because it's high-ticket and long to 3D-print atomic number 22. however once the ready-to-race beast lands on your step, you may cowl a lot of ground in 3 weeks than you probably could've within the intervening months.

Lorenzo Petrini has dedicated forty years to dreaming of and conceptualizing his good bike. The result, Stella, is spectacularly straightforward and complex, elegant wherever it might be unpolished, delicate wherever it might be loud, and wonderfully creative wherever it might be something, however.

The designers at Keim treat bikes just like the Samurai treated their swords—as associate degree extension of the flesh. So, whereas the Arvak may well be the strangest wanting bike on the earth, every bike is custom-designed to naturally suit your body. And speaking of nature, the frame is created entirely of white ash. Rub that in your biker hippy friends' faces.

A company should not build bicycles, right? This group between bike manufacturer American state rosid dicot genus and Pininfarina, the legendary Italian automobile style firm, proves otherwise. The mash-up—to use the word du jour—looks am passionate about it belongs within the MOMA, however, it is tried-and-true as the other road bike out there.

The BestiaNera is proof that "fixies"—or fixed-gear bikes—are not solely still alive however thriving. investigate this factor. it's the head of the art movement style. If a fictional character makes it to 2117, this can be the bike he'll be riding. additionally, to wanting cool as hell, it is also chock packed with accessories and amenities: crystal rectifier kits, a proprietary anti-vibration system, and a bar that adjusts to the millimeter. If that is not spy-approved, we do not apprehend what's.

For a lot of wonderful recommendations for living smarter, wanting higher, feeling younger, and enjoying tougher, sign in for our newsletter—delivered each day!

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retrowarriors · 7 years ago

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Cuphead: Don’t Deal with the Devil

A different kind of retro

By: Chris Saturn

Developer: StudioMDHR Entertainment Publisher: StudioMDHR Entertainment/Microsoft Game Studios Platform: Xbox One/PC

In the grand scheme of things, video games are a very recent form of media. Printed art, music, and oral storytelling have been around for millennia, and mass-printed stories and organized stage productions have survived many centuries. Prior to the introduction of our hobby of choice, the youngest form of media was photography and film. At the dawn of the 20th century, theaters sprung up across the landscape, giving people a new way to escape reality for an hour or two. In addition to filmed motion pictures, hand-drawn animated shorts and films were a common and welcome attraction.

It feels quaint and silly to spell all of that out now. As amazing as it must have been at the time, film and animation have been around so long now that they pre-date everyone alive today. It’s how today’s kids will no doubt feel about picking up a controller. It’s just something that’s always been there.

When we talk about “retro,” we’re typically looking back only a handful of years, a few decades at most. But when speaking to animation and film buffs, looking back at the classics can span a period many times that. And, yet, there are certainly parallels. The humble beginnings of characters like Pac-Man and Mario can be compared to the early shorts of Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny.

It is, perhaps, because of this similarity that something like Cuphead feels so natural. I was fortunate enough to have grown up with classic Looney Tunes and Disney cartoons readily available on cable TV and NES games en masse at the local rental store. Cuphead feels like those two memories compressed into a high-density nostalgia machine.

At its core, Cuphead is a simple run-and-gun platformer. The controls are sophisticated enough to have required a six-button controller, and precise enough to show off modern design sensibilities, but still feel like something that could have come from the NES era. The graphics give the illusion of being from a century-old cartoon, but require complex modern hardware tricks to flow so seamlessly. The music and sound effects sound like they were ripped straight out of an old Popeye or Betty Boop cartoon. It’s a deception pulled off by modern hardware that pulls at the nostalgia strings harder than most actual classic games.

The story certainly feels like it’d be at home in a classic animated short or series. Cuphead and his brother Mugman are conned by the Devil into betting away their souls at a casino, and must pay back their debt by collecting the souls of others who’ve been similarly duped. It’s not incredibly deep, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s merely there to propel the action.

The gameplay feels basic, but has some hidden depth. From the world map, you can select between various platforming stages, side-scrolling shmup style stages, challenge stages, or boss battles. Completing these stages unlocks more of the world map, and more stages to be played. At the end of each stage, you’ll receive a letter rank, as well as a breakdown of tasks completed and items collected.

The platform stages play like something out of Contra or Metal Slug. Enemies and projectiles flood into the arena as you navigate basic platforms to reach the end of the level. Mario-esque coins are interspersed, which can be collected and used to buy power-ups at the in-game shop. Challenge stages and boss battles are typically single screen affairs, with boss fights being broken down into multiple, increasingly difficult phases. Shmup stages consist of Cuphead boarding a tiny bi-plane and taking out aerial enemies.

Aside from the shmup levels, controls remain the same in all arenas. In addition to basic movement, you have buttons to jump, fire, and dodge. Pressing jump again when in contact with certain objects or projectiles causes your character to parry via a basic double-jump. Holding the R Button will allow you to stay stationary while aiming in all directions. Otherwise, Cuphead’s finger-bullets go in the direction he’s moving at all times. When in shmup mode, the dodge button changes from a basic dash to a miniaturization effect, allowing you to squeeze between obstacles. The parry ability remains consistent throughout all game modes.

Aside from the obvious discussion around the unique aesthetic, most online discussion of the game seems to be around its difficulty, which many people are referring to as brutal. Having spent some time with the game, I just don’t see it. It’s tough, sure, but it’s also pretty forgiving. Compared to many of the classic games it’s hoping to emulate, there are a lot of modern amenities here that allow players to resume from failures with almost no consequence.

Infinite lives mean no desperation to preserve credits and multiple hit points mean no instant-deaths, ala Contra. Being able to purchase and equip different weapons from the world map mean you won’t have to hope that the power-up you want drops from an enemy or object mid-level. Death is followed by a short “retry/quit” screen that is fortunately accompanied by minimal loading to get you back into the action. Most stages and bosses can be quickly learned and completed with some practice, and attack patterns seem no less fair than in many of the games Cuphead has obviously drawn inspiration from. Modern games less and less appeal to retro gamers. And, yet, here’s a game that embraces its classic charm, both in appearances and in gameplay.

On a personal note, it’s just so refreshing to see a faux-retro game that isn’t going for pixel art. This attempt to look like an interactive cartoon is exactly what I’d been hoping for in games since I was a kid. This is what I saw in my head when I played classic Mickey Mouse games.

If you’re a fan of classic games or classic animation, don’t let this one pass you by.

#cuphead #xbox #video games #steam #gaming

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sunaddicted · 8 years ago

Text

Midnighters (00q)

Midnighters

Sometimes, Q didn’t realise that outside of Q-Branch night had cloaked the city with its shadowy embrace; in MI6 underground the blue lights of the computer screens never died and it seemed as if time froze, keeping its interns captive in a realm where it was easy to forget about their real lives and get sucked in the darkly glamorous and bloodied world of spying. For that reason, if both Moneypenny and Tanner couldn’t be spared from their duties, a Double-Oh or a couple of nurses from Medical were sent down with a list of the boffins that needed to be sent home, often accompanied by one of M’s legendary written threats.

007 usually was tasked with the job during downtimes in between missions for the mere reason that he was the most efficient when it came to persuade the Quartermaster to abandon his office - not that he minded: wreaking havoc on the minions’ frail nerves was fun and it came with the bonus of spending some time together with his favourite genius.

James sauntered in Q-Branch, a folded paper held up in his hand “If when I come out of the Quartermaster’s office I see any of the people written in this list still on this floor, you’ll regret it” he proclaimed with an unpleasant and predatory smile as he passed the note in R’s hands. Without another word, he moved towards the organised chaos that was Q’s personal space.

Before entering the room, James smoothed the invisible creases in the jacket of his suit - a dove grey tailored affair that made his golden tan, recently touched up during a mission in Qatar, look even more intense “Time to go home, my dear Quartermaster” he sing-songed as he strode in.

It took Q a couple of seconds to look up, blinking owlishly at the broad-shouldered figure standing in front of him from behind smudged glasses that sat too low on his nose “Bond?”

James had to choke a fond sigh before it escaped his throat and he folded his hands behind his back to avoid reaching over and trying to make a sense of those unruly curls “I’m glad to know you still have enough brainpower to recognise your favourite agent”

“I don’t have favourites” Q stated, a confused frown marring the pale expanse of his forehead “Shouldn’t you still be in the desert?”

“Keep telling yourself that” James answered as he slipped a hand inside of his inner pocket, retrieving the USB pen he had been sent to retrieve; he dangled the shiny black piece of plastic in front of the other’s face, almost as one would do to tease a cat with a treat “A surprising stroke of luck landed this right in my hands” he added smugly.

Q, predictably, reached for the USB pen - and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that part of his mind was worrying over the fact that 007 would probably destroy it, as he did any other piece of tech abandoned in his hands for too long, if he didn’t get a hold of it.

James tutted and hid the USB pen back in his jacket, prompting a tortured groan from Q “M said you can’t have it until you have gotten some rest”

“That’s not fair!”

“Careful, your inner child is showing” James grinned and retrieved the oversized parka, that was half-spilled on the floor, from the visitor chair and held it up for Q to slide in “Come on” he tried to persuade him in an encouraging tone.

Q would deny forever that he had childishly pouted at 007 as he started to turn off his computers and stood up to slide in the offered jacket “But you’ll give it to me first thing in the morning, right?”

James smiled “I solemnly promise” and, strangely enough, he meant it: he couldn’t remember a time he had lied to the younger man, it was a good feeling “First thing in the morning along with your cuppa”

James’ eyelids fluttered open like butterfly wings, slowly revealing the arctic blue shade of his irises; the look in his eyes was confused for the first few seconds, pupils contracting as a reaction to the harsh white light shining in them - somehow, his brain was pretty sure that it was supposed to be dark. Then, he realised that the sharp smell that was giving him an headache was that of disinfectant: James immediately knew that he was in Medical.

“Good morning” Q greeted, barely looking up at the man swaddled in pristine white blankets - as white as the bandages wrapped around his bruised torso and head, speckled with rusty freckles of blood here and there “Or good night - when it’s midnight, I’m never sure about how I should greet people” he added with a grin as he locked the tablet and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, letting out a small noise of complaining when he noticed how smudged they were.

“What happened?” the agent inquired, trying to sit up.

The attempt immediately triggered Q’s mothering instincts - he couldn’t exactly help it, he always felt like the agents were under his care even once they were back on British soil - and the younger man moved to push Bond back down, scowling at him rather darkly “You fell down a flight of stairs when you slipped to dodge a bullet: on a bright note, you don’t have any new holes - on the other hand, you have a concussion and four cracked ribs” Q explained, fingers fiddling with the bed remote to raise it a bit.

Even the movement of the mattress hurt and seemingly cut his lungs capacity in a half, but James didn’t complain and gritted his teeth until he was sitting up “Thank you” He said, proud of himself when his voice came out clearer than he would have thought “Well, it could have been a lot worse”

“It could have” Q agreed. At the beginning, knowing that his agents had gotten the smallest and most insignificant injury had bothered him and sent him in a downwards spiral of regret; Tanner had sat him down, put a beer in his hand - Q didn’t comment on the little fridge that was clearly kept in the office for that particular purpose: apparently, every head of department has a stash of alcohol hidden somewhere - and clearly explained that he couldn’t hold himself accountable for every little thing that happened or he’d burn out and end up making even more mistakes. To be honest, Q had been a little peeved by the speech - he wasn’t a kid that needed scolding - but once he’d slept over it, he had realised that Tanner had given him a pretty good piece of advice and had tried to put it in practice as often as possible “How are you feeling?”

James shrugged, immediately regretting it when his ribs protested quite loudly at the graceless movement “Like I was ran over but, apparently, I just fell down the stairs like an old lady with a bad hip”

The analogy made Q snort in amusement “Too bad that you have a bad shoulder instead, or the metaphor would have fit perfectly” he teased lightly, knowing that the agent didn’t want or need pity. Instead, Q produced out of his bag a packet of crisps and tossed it to the agent with a flick of his wrist “Trash food is the best cure for everything”

“Amen to that” James smiled like a child on Christmas’ morning, quickly tearing the packet open and fishing a crisp out of it; he didn’t know how Q had cottoned on the fact that he liked indulging in snacks and generally fatty and sugary food when he came back home from hard missions but James greatly appreciated it and delved in, closing his eyes when the crisp crunched loudly under his molars and the flavour burst on his taste buds: he finally was back at home - safe.

“Stop scaring the living shit out of me!” Q reproached, hand plastered over his racing heart and a glare direct up towards the agent looming down over him “Why are you even here?” he asked after checking his watch, mentally scolding himself when he noticed that once again he’d kept working well after his shift had ended; though, he was positive that M hadn’t send anyone - and, especially, not 007 - to boot him out of the agency and put him in a cab: he had come to work in the early afternoon so, he hadn’t actually been working for that long.

James grinned and leaned against the car under which Q had been sprawled, long-fingered hands working their magic in a different way than usual but still so very talented “Double-Oh Seven, reporting for duty”

“Already?” Q frowned, absentmindedly pushing a rebellious - and, James noticed, particularly tightly coiled - curl out of his forehead, leaving a smudge of dark oil on his pale skin “You’ve been out of Medical only for three weeks”

“Alas, terrorists usually don’t care for proper recovery times” James teased, offering the younger man a hand to help him up to his feet: he had a flight to catch and, while he would have loved to trade barbs with his Quartermaster for the rest of the night, he had a job waiting to be done “I don’t imagine that I can borrow this beauty?”

Q ignored the hand and hoisted himself up “With you, it never is borrowing” he chided, grabbing an already greasy rag to try and wipe the worst of the oil from his hands.

“Please?”

“No” Q shook his head “Don’t bat your lashes at me, Bond: I’m not so easily swayed. Besides, she’s not ready yet”

“She looks ready to me” James leered a bit and chuckled when Q started to push him out of the workshop, letting himself be maneuvered towards the office.

“Sit down and be quiet while I look for your mission specks” the younger man said, hurrying behind his desk to open his email where there was all the information he needed to properly fit his agent. Q’s eyes quickly read down the files: Russia, no matter the season, wasn’t a pleasant place to go to if one cared more about the political climate rather than the weather - though, Bond knew the country well and Q wasn’t ashamed to be more relaxed at the prospect of sending the agent out in the field before he’d had the time to heal properly: he still didn’t like it - it was reckless and stupid and it made Q’s sleepy brain want to go and yell at M.

James watched the expression of Q’s face change along with his emotions as he read further down: the mission was a matter of intel gathering and, while he had a reputation for attracting - and being attracted to - trouble, James was confident that he could bring home the information MI6 needed without causing too much mayhem.

The agent smiled, endeared, when Q started wandering around the office and murmuring to himself, fingers tapping in concentration against his temple as he decided what equipment was best based on the mission specs. James gratefully holstered the gun when Q slid it towards him and he couldn’t avoid grinning with satisfaction when the green lights blinked at him in an almost welcoming fashion; it was followed by an extra clip of ammunition, the usual standard radio and something that he supposed to be a USB pen but that wasn’t much bigger than his thumbnail.

“Don’t poke at it” Q sighed as if he was dealing with a particularly stubborn and annoying child.

“It’s so small” James complained, giving it another poke for good measure; he snatched his fingers away just in time when the younger man tried to bat at them, his reflexes quicker and honed on by experience.

“Just plug it in, launch the program inside and wait for it to be done” Q narrowed his eyes, inspecting once again what was on the table to make sure that he had given the agent everything he needed “You’re good to go” he said in the end with a firm nod.

“I’ll be back before you can start missing me” James winked.

“That’s presuming that I miss you when you’re away”

The agent tossed a roguish grin behind his shoulder “You do miss me, my dear Quartermaster”

“If you’re still at work at this hour of the night, I’m going to kick your arse”

“Just to be clear, you’re contacting Headquarters to make sure that I’m not doing my job?”

“You can leave the sarcasm at home next time, my dear Quartermaster: it won’t get lonely, I assure you”

“Pot. Kettle. So, are you going to answer my question?”

“It’s midnight, Q”

“Actually, it’s half past midnight”

“That makes your situation worse, not better - go home”

“Yes, Daddy. When my shift ends I’ll go home like a good boy”

“Did you seriously just call me Daddy?”

“Oh, you must prefer Father. It’s more classic and it would suit you better, I admit - though, I already have one of those and he’s a lovely man. Also, he gave up on ordering me to bed when I was ten”

“You must have driven the poor man insane”

“We’re rather alike so, no”

“Kincade always says that I’m more like my mother”

“I’m sorry that you never knew them”

“…”

“Are you still there, James?”

“Yes, sorry. I got distracted. What are you doing?”

“Working on the car. I don’t have much time for her during the day, too many more prominent issues to deal with, and one of my engineers was having a problem with a special feature so, I’m taking care of it”

“I like weaponised cars”

“I know you do. How’s Russia?”

“Cold. But there’s plenty of vodka to warm me up so, I’ll be fine”

“You do know that alcohol doesn’t actually increase your body temperature, right?”

“Liar, pants on fire”

“Seriously, James?”

“Prove it then. Come on Q, talk science to me”

“Alcohol causes the blood vessels in your skin to dilate, shunting blood from your core to the periphery: you’re just redistributing the heat, but your actual body temperature hasn’t changed”

“It sounds reasonable”

“That’s because it’s true”

“…”

“You’re dozing, aren’t you? Go to sleep, James: you need your rest”

“Last question”

“Alright. Shoot”

“…”

“James?”

“Are you missing me?”

“Go to sleep, James”

“Answer the question”

“…”

“Q?”

“Yes, I am. Now go to sleep and remember to return the equipment in one piece”

James watched Moneypenny persuade Q into drinking another shot - vodka and Tabasco sauce, what an evil concoction - with mixed feelings: on one side, he couldn’t wait to see just what kind of drunk Q was and wanted to know whether his perfect diction would falter and blur; on the other side, he was mildly worried about Eve’s intentions because she never did anything casually, a plan was always in the working.

“In case you’re wondering, you’re not being subtle at all” Tanner suddenly said from James’ left side - the action of someone too used to stand by people who might draw a firearm at any given moment - and unceremoniously dropped a chilled beer in his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” James retorted with a grin, raising the bottle in silent thanks before taking a sip; he preferred smoother spirits as a rule, burning liquors that sensually slipped down his throat, but a beer was always welcomed.

“Sure you don't” Bill hummed; on his face there was a placid and benevolent smile that his colleagues had learnt to correctly interpret as one of mischief “Q looks especially nice tonight, with those curls in disarray, the loose tie, sleeves rolled up past his elbows..”

“Oi” James scowled “You’re a married man”

Bill arched an eyebrow, grin widening at the blatant display of jealousy he’d been looking for “And? We’re the creative sort in bed”

It definitely was too much information: reliable and plain Tanner couldn’t be kinky in the sheets, no way - especially, he couldn’t have set his eyes Q: James hadn’t been subtly wooing the younger man only to have the Chief of Staff snagging him from under his nose.

“Easy, James: you’re turning green” Bill let his predatory facade fall and friendly bumped their shoulders together “I was teasing you”

James blinked “You’re not the creative sort in bed?”

“No, I am. I was teasing you about dragging Q in my bed: he’s not my type - or my wife’s, for the matter: he would only trigger her mothering instincts and we’re definitely not into that” Bill winked, patting the agent’s shoulder “Back to my initial statement, you’re not being subtle at all about leering at Q”

“I don’t leer”

“You kind of do, really”

James was sure that he didn’t . Not when it came to people, at least: he could admit that he leered a bit at shiny and fast cars but that was an healthy reaction that every sane person should have in front of certain beauties with purring engines that just begged to be pushed at their limits.

But he was getting distracted “Why is Moneypenny getting him drunk?” James inquired, pretty sure that Tanner very well knew Eve’s plans “He’s going to have a killer headache tomorrow morning”

“I think that she actually wants to thwart your plans of seduction” Bill admitted, shrugging as he studiously focused on his beer; he was pretty sure that he shouldn’t have enjoyed himself half as much as he did when it came to riling up the agent: it must have classified as a form of sadism.

“Why? Q’s an adult, he can choose for himself” James pointed out, irritated on the younger man’s behalf.

“Q is the darling of MI6 - did you really think that you’d get to date him without people getting oddly protective of him?” Bill didn’t give James time to reply, the question more rhetoric than real in his mind “She’ll relent, though, if you bring Q home once he’s sloshed and tuck him in”

“And how will Eve know that I haven’t fucked Q, anyway?” James asked just to be contrary: he might not have been the most moral person in the world, but he had some principles and a fully consenting partner definitely was one of those.

Bill chuckled “Q tells Eve everything ”

At that statement, the agent’s mind was unpleasantly torn between two main lines of thinking: at least Eve already knew how he was in bed and wouldn’t be surprised by Q’s stories and Tanner must have been wrong because James’ himself clearly was the younger man’s confidante.

James tossed back the last of his beer “Fine. But this is ridiculous”

“Agreed” Tanner hummed, taking from Bond the empty bottle “It’s entertaining, though”

James scowled darkly at the other man before striding towards his object of interest: Q was sagging against Moneypenny, his balance impaired by the large quantities of alcohol he had imbibed and eyes shining as brightly as stars - well, that was sappy and even James had thought that he wouldn’t manage to romanticize drunkenness. Apparently, he was wrong “Good evening” he greeted, glaring at Eve in a way that she couldn’t possibly ignore.

Q lurched forward, miscalculating the distance between himself and the agent “James!” He let out a small noise when he collided against the other’s chest, but leaned into the strong hands that grabbed and steadied his wobbly body “I’m made of jelly”

“Fascinating” James answered “Why don’t we go at home?”

“What about cake?” Q whined “I want to see Mallory blow the candles”

“I’m sure that Eve will keep aside two large slices for you and you can have them for breakfast”

The Quartermaster turned towards his best friend - or he thought he did: he wasn’t quite sure that he was properly facing her “Will you?” He asked, adding a pout for good measure: Mallory’s birthday cake was a decadent red velvet and he had refrained from stealing an early bite just because it was his boss’.

“Promise” Eve confirmed with a nod, leaning over to ruffle the younger man’s already messy enough hair while she shot a warning glance at the agent.

James shook his head in disbelief: did Moneypenny really believe that he could shag someone who completely was out of It? “Come on, let’s go my dear Quartermaster” he coaxed gently, hands moving to completely support Q on their way to the car “Where are your things?”

“Office”

James thanked that Q’s office was close to the parking lot; he could have easily carried him bridal style but he didn’t think that, the following morning, Q would appreciate remembering something like that or the inevitable resulting gossip. All things considered, James considered it lucky that Q’s things were close to his car and made a quick as possible job of gathering everything before he strapped Q in the passenger seat; after a moment of hesitation, James put a plastic bag in the younger man’s lap “I hope you have a decent aim”

Q blinked down at it, fingers reflexively curling around the plastic “I’m not going to throw up”

“It’s for my peace of mind” James reassured and smoothly inserted himself in the late night traffic; he made an effort to drive slower and safer than usual, not wanting to accidentally upset Q’s stomach.

During the ride neither of them talked, nor the radio had been turned on: they had never needed something - either music or chatter - to fill the silence, being perfectly comfortable with each other’s undiluted presence. The silence protracted even as they made their way up to Q’s flat, disturbed only by the cats’ soft welcoming mewls; when Q attempted to bend down and scoop them up, James rolled his eyes and brought him back up to a straight position “Go to bed, I’ll bring them”

Q hummed in understanding and stumbled towards the bedroom. He didn’t bother with getting into his pyjamas and just awkwardly shimmied out of his clothes before hiding under his thick duvet, glasses mashed between his face and the pillow. When the bed dipped, Q made grabby motions towards his cats and smiled happily when they snuggled up to him, purring and greedy for affection.

“Fluffy buggers” James commented at the sight, tucking the blankets around the other’s body to make sure he was warm enough.

“Stay” Q murmured, fingers trying to get a hold of the agent’s wrist to keep him there “Please, stay”

He did.

+1.

It had been a while since Q had woken up with a killer hangover, head pounding at the rhythm of his heart and mouth feeling pasty in a way that had always reminded him of mould and that only made the roiling in his stomach feel worse.

Or maybe that was the scent of eggs and bacon frying in his kitchen, which also explained the suspicious lack of cats on his pillows: the filthy buggers had no restraint when it came to food and would whore themselves to anyone in order to get treats - luckily, it wasn’t just anyone who was in his flat and Q groaned loudly at the memories of the night before.

He was going to kill Eve - or, realistically speaking, he was going to make an absolute mess of her computer - for getting him ridiculously drunk at Mallory’s birthday party, consequently letting Bond see him in that pitiful state.

What was worse, the agent had been completely cavalier about the whole ordeal and hadn’t shagged him - they didn’t even kiss! Not only Q had made a fool of himself, but he hadn’t even gotten anything out of it apart from the breakfast that the agent was cooking, if he wasn’t having olfactory hallucinations.

The young man let himself wallow in misery for a few seconds more before climbing his way out of bed and retreating to the bathroom; Q immediately gave up on taming his hair - it was an impossible task on the best of days - and brushed his teeth, the taste of toothpaste both a relief and stomach upsetting.

Though, the sight of a barefooted James Bond, wearing just a shirt and boxer briefs, cooking in his kitchen was completely worth the hangover trying to kill him: the man looked magnificently relaxed, bathed in sunlight and Q had never wanted to kiss him more “Good morning”

James turned around to greet Q, chuckling at the way his curls were sticking up in every direction “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over” Q admitted, crouching down to pet the cats swarming around his calves “Thank you for taking care of me yesterday night”

“We’re a team, Q: we take care of each other” James pointed out, kneeling on the floor too; he cupped Q’s chin in his palm, raising it slightly “Are you in control of all your faculties and able to give consent?”

The younger man frowned “Yes, why?” “A disclaimer for Eve I’m So Nosy Moneypenny” James grinned and leaned over, lips naturally slotting over Q’s - finally.

#00team #my writing #my fic #00q #007 #james bond #q #quartermaster #hurt/comfort #fluff #getting together #mi6cafefest

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punkscowardschampions · 6 years ago

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Buster & Rio

Buster: Typical that I come back to an empty house without you Rio: What a depressing waste, like Rio: Could always throw your own welcome back party Buster: Tempting Buster: The lads have been harassing me for weeks, like Rio: Aww Rio: put 'em out of their misery Buster: Fuck it Buster: Might as well start as I mean to go on, yeah? Rio: Exactly Rio: Gotta keep busy somehow babe Buster: What are you doing? Rio: What I'm always doing Rio: 🤑 Buster: Working or working though? Rio: Ha, uncrackable code that Rio: Working, now going to the flat Rio: Lord knows no one knocks in this gaff Buster: At least with me gone that's the worst you'd have to explain if someone burst in Buster: So you're welcome Rio: True 😂 Rio: ✋ for dodging that bullet Buster: I'd take the mercy kill Buster: There'd be no more need to sneak around then Rio: Hmm Rio: 'til you realise we're exiled from dubo and london Rio: then where'd we go? Buster: Somewhere else Buster: Somewhere with some sun for a start, like Rio: Wouldn't hate that Buster: Exactly Buster: The weather's shit here right now Rio: Just in case you didn't know summer's over, like Buster: Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it Rio: Don't pout, baby Rio: ruin your back to school photo Buster: You've got loads of time to cheer me up before that Rio: Do my best Buster: I'll do my best to make you miss me Buster: Be easy then Rio: You know I already do Buster: Yeah but I want you to miss me as bad as I miss you Rio: How do you know I don't already? Buster: You wouldn't be able to concentrate if you did Rio: I dunno Rio: Can make it work for me with what I've gotta do Buster: You gonna make me spend to see it? Rio: Things haven't changed that much Rio: How rude Rio: You got a party to organise though, and friends to give much needed attention 😏 Buster: Just gonna make me beg then, yeah? Buster: Rude Rio: You still have to put some work in, boy Buster: I knew you weren't worked up enough, babe Rio: 😇 me Buster: Things haven't changed that much Buster: Your words Rio: Caught me Buster: You wish I could Buster: You wanna be in these arms so bad Rio: 😖 Why you teasing me Buster: You gotta get that 💰💰💰 Buster: I'm helping Rio: So helpful, you Rio: 😒 Buster: I can always change tact Buster: What would be more helpful to you, baby? Rio: Be here or stop being so cute Buster: [Sends selfie] Buster: Does that help? Rio: Ugh 😍 Rio: I miss you Buster: I love you Rio: I love you too Rio: Hold up Buster: Changed your mind or what? Rio: [Away for a long ass time cos fuck you Drew] Buster: Babe? Rio: My bad Rio: Unexpected visitor and progress Buster: Indie's back Buster: Well that's good Rio: Not yet but it's getting sorted Buster: Alright Buster: Who was there then? Rio: Drew came 'round, he didn't know I'd be here obvs, just doing some work himself Rio: but he actually apologised for the other night Rio: and he's gonna talk to Indie Buster: Seriously? Rio: I know, right? Rio: Unexpected Rio: but thank god, so over this drama Buster: Yeah Buster: Thank Christ I don't have to worry about that cunt now Rio: He was really decent considering Rio: got rid of whoever he was with before they could get an eyeful too 😶😰 Buster: Good Buster: And you're okay, yeah? Rio: Yeah, I'm fine Rio: I hope Indie comes back Buster: Like with everything he said and did Buster: You're not just saying it 'cause you want Indie back Rio: No, no Rio: Promise Rio: He was really nice Buster: Thank fuck Rio: Seriously Rio: Had forgot he had a key Buster: Me too Rio: 😂 Had to tell the stream I wasn't about to be murdered/doing some kinky roleplay for 'em Buster: Fucking hell Rio: Stepping it up some to keep the edge on my competitors Buster: 😂 Buster: You've got my heart going for all the wrong reasons, babe Rio: Soz, baby Buster: I'm just glad you didn't get murdered, like Rio: Cheers Rio: That's how you know the honeymoon is over 😏 Buster: Don't Buster: I ain't marrying you even if you threaten to murder me Rio: 😂 Rio: so gutted Buster: Get your own fortune, cheers Rio: Who's out here getting fake murdered for the coin, huh? 🤔🤔🤔 Rio: Always doing the most and getting the most Buster: Give it a few days and you'll have plenty of competition Buster: I'm already doing assigned reading whilst planning a party here Rio: 🤓 Buster: Shut up Buster: I gotta do it sometime Rio: Only joking Rio: It's hot Buster: [sends selfie of him reading] Buster: I know Rio: Don't ruin my fantasy, dork Buster: Well now you're not gonna get the rest of the pics Rio: Babe Rio: 😞 Buster: Keep your fantasy Buster: 😏 Buster: That's what you wanted, yeah? Rio: No Rio: I want you Buster: [sends some more pics but not the good stuff] Rio: Fuckin' tease Buster: learnt from the best Buster: you're the biggest tease ever Rio: Glad I've taught you so much, like Rio: don't be using it against me though, ain't ready to come for the master yet 😜 Buster: 😂 Buster: Am I not? Rio: 🤫 Rio: If you're gonna try then get prepared for me to go harder, like Rio: not gonna hold back 'cos you're an amateur, baby Buster: I leave the country and suddenly you're feeling brave enough to call me an amateur Rio: What you gonna do about it? Rio: 😋 Buster: Get on a flight to sort you out Rio: I wish Rio: Seriously...I really fucking want you right now, my body misses you so much already Buster: I ain't opposed to leaving my party before it even starts Buster: It's not like I need the distraction if I've got you Buster: And you know how you've got me too, 'cause it's the same as always Buster: There's too many walls in this house I could push you up against and I really fucking want to Rio: Oh God Rio: no, we gotta be good Rio: can't break this soon Buster: I don't wanna be good Buster: Tell me I have to Rio: You've gotta Rio: You've put it out there now, the keener guests will be on their way already, like Buster: Yeah Buster: Fuck's sake Rio: You'll have fun Buster: 'Course Buster: I just want you here too Rio: Obviously Rio: I know I am the party but Rio: gotta be places, babe Buster: With jokes like that, yeah Buster: You gonna go see Indie? Rio: Should let her come to me, I reckon Rio: make sure Drew has sorted it Rio: Imma go out with some friends, see who's about Buster: You're right, could be more bullshit from him Rio: I don't see why Rio: he's trying to make good, finally Buster: I don't reckon it is, I'm just saying Rio: Yeah Rio: Anyway Rio: party time for all Buster: Do you know where you're gonna go yet? Rio: Me and Rian are starting at Hang Dai 👌 Rio: s'good craic Buster: I'll warn them you're coming, like Rio: 🖕 Buster: You all out of politeness now I've left? Rio: Nah, so well-behaved in fact that your 'joke' cut me real deep Buster: Poor baby Rio: 😒 Gonna drown my sorrows Buster: I'd tell you not to go too hard but I ain't gonna be that hypocrite Rio: S'alright, soak it up with the Chinese Rio: No one to impress tonight Buster: I'm still gonna be able to see your posts, remember Buster: Impress me Rio: Boy, I know my angles Rio: and I know what you like Buster: If you don't by now you really do need to drown your sorrows Rio: Psh Rio: can't even try and come at me with that Rio: and my mates need know excuse to be coming with those 'rounds Buster: 😂 Buster: Literally the only thing our friends have in common Rio: Real talk 😂 Rio: Tell 'em I said hi Buster: I ain't saying shit to James from you though Rio: Oh no Rio: what a shame Buster: For him yeah Rio: Bless him Buster: He's a prick Buster: Save your blessings Rio: Why hang with him then Buster: If I hold him to it I'd have to do it with all of 'em Rio: Fair enough Rio: a lot of effort Buster: Yeah Buster: Not trying to waste my time with that Rio: Understandable Rio: they at least have their uses this way, yeah Buster: Exactly Rio: Hmm Rio: What am I gonna wear Buster: Are you sticking with the 'nobody to impress' bullshit or not? Rio: Wasn't planning to rock up in my sweats regardless babe Rio: boys that aren't you are friggin' useless, how can I work out the vibe and match from 'idk some jeans' Buster: Don't be trying to match Buster: Make your own vibe Rio: Solid advice cutie Buster: More importantly, what am I gonna wear, though Rio: Forreal Rio: gotta show 'em what they've been missing baby Buster: Easy Buster: If they ain't impressed they ain't coming in Rio: 😂 Rio: One way to keep the guest list down 😉 Buster: Well, yeah I can't trash the place day 1 Rio: not with that attitude Buster: I'm not in the 24 now, babe Rio: Exactly Rio: step your game up, before you'd just tell me the maid would clean it up to piss me off Buster: She doesn't come every day we're not royalty Buster: Just act like it Rio: Don't party like it Rio: don't need to see you in a nazi uniform or with your pasty arse out thanks Buster: 😂 Buster: [Sends booty selfie because he's silly] Buster: I was gonna throw outfit suggestions at you but you've sorted it Buster: Cheers Rio: 😏 Rio: well, the SS uniforms were Hugo Boss so Rio: right up your alley that Buster: Shut up Rio: 😂 Rio: I love you Buster: I miss you Rio: Yeah Rio: it's shit Buster: At least school will distract me Buster: Never thought I'd be saying that, like Rio: Gonna ace it Buster: Standard Rio: Yeah Rio: you work hard too though Buster: It's the one thing my parents reckon that isn't bullshit Buster: Gotta work hard as well as play it Rio: Amen Rio: I'll second that Buster: Cheers Buster: It's what none of the lads can get their heads around Buster: It can't be a game all the time, fuck that Rio: Unless they planning to live off their Ma and Pa forever Rio: tragic Rio: assumedly they'll get handed a cushy job by said Pa though so won't even see the consequences of 🙄 Buster: Yeah Buster: And a missus with her own set of rich parents is pretty likely Rio: S'who you know Rio: won the genetic lottery, like, well done yous Buster: 🥇 Rio: You ain't fooling anyone, babe Rio: know me for starters Buster: I don't need to fool anyone Buster: It ain't no trick I'm actually this good Rio: 😏 S'one word for it Buster: What's your word then? Enlighten me Rio: You know my word Rio: 'cos you hate it Rio: cute Buster: Maybe I miss it Buster: Or just love you enough to put up with hearing it again Rio: I'll call you later, no doubt when I'm fucked up and you can hear all about it Buster: Yeah? Buster: Good Rio: Let you miss me a bit first Rio: 'Course Buster: I already do Buster: A lot Rio: [sends highlights from stream earlier] Rio: how much i miss you Buster: Jesus Buster: If it's any consolation I spent so long in the shower missing you earlier that it's a good thing my parents aren't struggling to pay any bills Rio: I know, imagine how good it could've been if I weren't interrupted, but that's the story of our lives init Rio: that is not what I'd call consolation Rio: damn Rio: over here needing a cold one now Buster: You won't be wanting the footage then. I'll save it for another day Rio: BUSTER Buster: Yeah? Rio: Please Buster: [Sends video because tell me everything ain't waterproof in the future like bitch my phone already is now] Rio: 😻 Rio: I'm literally drooling you're so fucking hot Rio: like gimme Buster: That's just what happens when I think about you Buster: You're so fucking hot and I want you so badly Rio: Fuck Rio: when can I come see you daddy? Buster: Now Buster: But seriously, I need you here soon Rio: Next weekend maybe Buster: I'll make it work if you can Rio: 'Course Rio: not that long of a flight, even if I have a Saturday shift Rio: I need you Buster: I love you Rio: I love you Rio: Go get ready Buster: You too Buster: We can do this Rio: 'Course Rio: 👑 Buster: You know it

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owlaholic68 · 8 years ago

Text

If at first you don’t succeed... Chapter Two

Read it at AO3 here.

Carla has a plan.

Step one: gather supplies to defend the village. Weapons, armor, stimpacks, anything that could give them a fighting chance.

Step two: return to Arroyo a few days before the attack and evacuate everyone to the mountains. The villagers would be reluctant to leave their homes, but with her influence as the Chosen One, she should be able to swing it.

Step three: fight off the Enclave until they learn to leave them alone.

Step four: rinse and repeat. Or in this case, die and repeat until she gets it right.

The next few months are a blur. Carla immediately leaves Arroyo without as much as a glance over her shoulder. She heads first to Klamath, trades Gecko skins for healing supplies. Vic’s empty store has a shotgun and some ammunition. She takes it; it’s better than nothing. Next come arduous visits to the Den and Redding. On foot, the journeys take long weeks under the searing wasteland sun. Carla raids every cavern and hoards every penny to save up for a set of metal armor and a set of grenades she can barely throw properly.

Late August, she’s trudging through the desert when she sees a hulking figure. She’s only seen that silhouette once, right before it flung her to the ground and killed her. Her throat dries up and her body freezes. Then the monster starts to turn towards her, and she ducks behind a large boulder. Carla crouches there, shaking, for what feels like hours, and forces herself to listen, a hand over her mouth to stifle her loud panicked breaths. Against the abomination’s brute strength, the poor wastelander never stood a chance.

Too soon, May arrives. Carla executes her plan, gets everyone out of the village. They protest, of course, but the threat of a large army from the South convinces the most stubborn. For a week, they dodge through caverns and canyons, away from the sound of helicopter blades and pounding feet. Then, their luck runs out.

“Surrender, savages, and you will not be harmed!” The Enclave sergeant booms. He’s standing with a large group of soldiers in front of her. Behind the exhausted group of villagers is another complement of troops. Two vertibirds sit on the cliff above them.

Carla hefts her spear. “Bullshit!” she shouts, and launches the spear with every ounce of anger and frustration she can muster.

The Sergeant falls with a gurgled scream, the shaft of the spear protruding from the eyehole in his armor. The rest of his forces stand shocked for a second, then raise their rifles in unison. The next few minutes are a rush of explosions, bullets, and the glowing eyes of Enclave power armor. She loses herself in the fury and chaos, blind to all around her.

Silence falls, thick and sudden. Carla looks up from a grenade she’s preparing and realizes she stands alone. Ten soldiers encircle her. Behind them lie heaps of corpses: her friends, her family.

“Fuck you,” Carla snarls, hands shaking as she pulls out the pin and drops the grenade at her feet.

Next time, Carla runs faster and barters more fiercely. She even goes as far as Modoc in the winter.

Scouring the Den for work to augment her meager but ever-growing funds, she finds the car. Even under the rust and wasteland grime, it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Smitty, the mechanic and junkyard owner, finds her staring appreciatively, one hand on the sculpted hood. He offers to fix it up for her (for a hefty price, of course), but is missing several key components. Namely, a fuel cell controller. Even if she could find one, there’s no way she could save up enough to pay for it before May.

“Maybe another time,” she says, and walks away. Hopefully, there won’t be another time.

In October, a group of radscorpions ambushes her.

Her hands are slick with blood; her fingers slip off the smooth carapace of the radscorpion tail. Feeling the poison burn through her veins, choking her lungs, she tries with one final effort the pull the stinger out of her stomach, but fails. She smiles through the pain as her eyes flutter shut and her hands fall limp.

Maybe I can get that car next time.

Carla stops counting.

Of course, that’s a lie. She never stops keeping track of how many times. How many cycles she’s tried and failed. Each time she dies is a fresh punch in the gut, a new stab of disheartening agony. Mostly, she’s torn apart by the Enclave when May rolls around, but sometimes she doesn’t even make it that far.

She picks up a companion, this time. Sulik, an intimidating but kind tribal man who’s saddled with debt in Klamath. Carla strikes a bargain and gets him out for half the woman’s asking price. Her goal this time (the twelfth cycle, but she’s not counting) is to investigate Vault City. Rumor was that they had used a GECK to build their city. Maybe they had another one. There was even a faint chance they could offer some protection against the ever-present threat of May.

Vault City is nothing like what she expected. The outskirts of the city are a slum of poor wastelanders living in squalor. She manages to get in the city by virtue of her antique vault suit and with a missive to go meet the First Citizen. Sulik waits outside.

First Citizen Joanne Lynette defies all expectation. Carla was expecting a benevolent but strict leader. But no one could expect Lynette: a cruel, dismissive woman. And as Carla would learn, ruthless.

Carla walks away from Vault City with an uneasy stomach and a mission: take care of the city of Gecko. The nearby settlement had partially restored a nuclear power plant, but the resulting radioactive waste was poisoning the Vault City water supply.

She’s never seen a ghoul before; the poor doctor who greets her at the gate startles badly at her scream, then offers her a bashful smile. Sulik looks similarly unnerved. The doctor, Lenny, leads her to the town’s mayor, an even odder ghoul named Harold. Carla manages to tear her eyes away from the tree growing from his head to explain her quest.

“There’s a broken part,” Harold explains. “We need a new hydroelectric magnetosphere regulator. With that, the plant will stop pumping out radioactive coolant.”

“Where would I even get something like that?”

Harold looks uncertainly at Lenny, then back at her.

“Vault City.”

Carla and Sulik stay the night with Lenny, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Carla’s tattered vault suit. In the morning, he mentions a junkyard on the northern edge of town. The junkyard is, as its name would imply, full of junk. Carla pokes her head into a general store, but the owner has nothing of interest. Next door is a garage with a Poseidon Energy sign. A ghoul wearing a pair of greasy overalls looks up from his work when she enters.

Carla mentions the fuel cell controller. After all of these tortuous cycles, that beautiful car is still on her mind. His eyes light up in recognition, and he tells her he thinks he has one laying around.

“How much?” Carla asks. Even if she doesn’t have the money right now, it’s something she can save up for. That car would give her valuable time to search even farther for a solution to her problems.

“I don’t have much use for money,” the mechanic, Skeeter, looks thoughtful. “But we’re short on good parts here. I need a super repair kit. Get that for me, and I can give you the part for free.”

Inwardly, Carla sighs. She’ll have to keep an eye out for one. But first, the power plant.

Vault City has too many blank faces. They stare and glare at her as she walks by, from windows and doorways and in the middle of the street. Carla runs into a tall councilmember on her way to Lynette’s office. Senior Councilmember McClure nods and hums in agreement at her request for the required part, and quickly sends a note to the Amenities Office.

“Thank you, sir,” Carla gratefully shakes his hand. “Anywhere I could find a mechanic?” He points her in the direction of Valerie, the local repairwoman.

Valerie rubs the back of her head and regretfully informs her that no, she doesn’t have any super repair kits.

“But I could put one together if I had two tools. Oh yeah, and a wrench too.” Valerie gives her the specifics. On the way out of Vault City, Carla stops by the Amenities Office and picks up the hydroelectric magneto-whatever.

The deathclaw snatches her up with a monstrous claw and for a second, Carla sees the terrifying mask of the other monster. She closes her eyes and waits for death, can already feel herself waking up in front of the Temple of Trials.

With a guttural roar, Sulik bashes the deathclaw in the side of the head with his sledgehammer. The monster drops Carla, who falls to the ground relatively uninjured. She rolls to her feet and draws her pistol, but is just seconds too late.

Sulik grunts and stumbles backwards, two large gashes staining his torso red.

“No!” Carla screams and darts forward, firing uselessly at its tough hide. The deathclaw swipes a massive claw across Sulik’s neck.

He drops limply to the dirt, eyes glazing over, his unmoving fingers still curled around the handle of his weapon.

Then the deathclaw turns towards Carla, long snout open in a snarl. She raises her pistol and aims without thinking. Two bullets find their mark, embedding in both of its eyes. It roars, shaking her to the bones. She pulls the trigger again, but it clicks, her magazine empty.

With a hissed curse, she dodges backwards, out of the way of a claw. While the beast tries to blindly swipe at her, she runs over and grabs Sulik’s sledgehammer. One roundhouse strike later, the deathclaw lies dead on the dusty ground.

Carla drops the weapon and collapses on her knees at Sulik’s side. Not again. Never again. She bows her head and lets tears fall for the first time in four cycles. I just keep bringing bad luck, wherever I go. I can’t get even this one little thing right. How am I supposed to save Arroyo if I can’t even save one person?

Lenny is waiting for her at the gates of Gecko. His shy and hopeful smile falls when he sees her alone. And covered in blood. And carrying a weapon that he’s sure isn’t hers.

“A-are you injured? What h-happened?” he quickly inspects her for any sign of serious injury. She just shakes her head, mutters ‘deathclaw’ and heads straight for the entrance to the power plant.

Faced with the option of reprogramming a robot to install the part or doing it herself, she chooses to take responsibility and do it herself. And if she gets injured and irradiated along the way, she deserves it.

The power plant reactor is as good as new, but no good deed goes unpunished in Vault City. First Citizen Lynette apparently miscommunicated and actually wanted Carla to just kill everyone in Gecko so that Vault City could claim the power source as their own. Thinking of Sulik’s heroic sacrifice and Lenny’s concerned face, Carla loses her cool for just a second and punches Lynette in her smug, condescending face. Then she takes down a few guards, too.

She thinks that dying with a collection of bullets in her chest and the bloodied, furious face of the First Citizen above her has been her favorite way to go out so far.

Carla, in a repetitive daze, mixes up two wires on the detonator for the chunk of explosives. She’s dead before she even makes it through the Temple of Trials.

On the same stone steps she’s woken up on countless times (fourteen times, but she’s not counting), she doesn’t even cry anymore. She no longer screams curses at the heavens, no longer mourns people who are still alive.

She just opens her Pip-Boy and writes down her goals:

Stop the Enclave.

Save her village.

Find a way to end this.

#fallout #fallout 2 #fo2 #chosen one #chosen one carla #fallout stuff i've written #time loop #pretty graphic violence #and death

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