#spitting on an overpass

[rat-with-a-grenade]

Fun fact:

One day Pat Sajak spat out a loogie over an overpass and the spit landed on a baby.

That baby grew up to be Justin Bieber

[roanofarcc]

A CRUEL FATE

pairing. javi x reader 

summary. getting trapped as a tornado rages closer and closer dredges up all of the horrible memories of that day five years ago, but you’re determined not to lose any more friends.

warnings. lowkey reads as javi x reader x kate... but I'm not sorry about it. reader is having a very bad time. past-trauma, grief, anxiety, and mention of injuries. happy ending (no one dies this time). not proof read

word count. 1.9k || masterlist

One of the worst places to be in the middle of a tornado was under an overpass. The strong, solid structure tricks you. Its sturdiness and convenience can make a mind think ‘I’ll be safe under there.’ It may rattle and shake, but its ability to hold the weight of traveling cars and semis is deceiving. It probably won’t collapse in the wake of a tornado- that’s not what a person has to worry about- it’s the vacuum the overpass creates that makes it so deadly. As the tornado nears, it creates an impossible pull under the overpass. Anything underneath is likely to be sucked out at wind speeds almost unfathomable and spit out into the storm as if they were weightless. 

From a young age, growing up in tornado alley, you knew that. As a college kid dreaming of a grant to continue storm chasing with your best friends, you had witnessed firsthand the effects EF5 winds had in the space under the overpass. Sometimes when you closed your eyes, on a bad night, you heard the screams of your friends as they were ripped right from you. You could still feel Addy’s hand grasping yours as she climbed up after you. The sheer force of nature tore her from your fingers, nearly taking you too. But by some unfair miracle, it hadn’t. You and Kate, bloodied and at an utter loss, clung to a space that shouldn’t have kept you safe but did. 

Only you and her walked out from under the overpass. And from the second you stepped out into the awful blue sky and destruction as far as the eyes could see, you swore you’d never go chasing again. 

You had moved away and fell out with Kate and Javi when the grief became too much to bear. But somehow, you all found your way back to each other. Between steady convincing from both of them and Kate’s experiment working to successfully take down the twister in El Reno, you found yourself back in the game and one of the newest members of the growing Wranglers team. 

Most of your work was to hang back and track the storms with Javi and Dexter. You started to enjoy it again, missing the thrill of the dangerous storms and the utter awe of their power. It had been going so well. For the first time since the accident, you felt almost whole again, sandwiched between your renewed friendship with Kate and a blossoming relationship with Javi. Everything was nearly perfect until you found yourself facing down an overpass again. 

The small camper the Wranglers had fixed up as their on-the-go weather tracking center was carrying you, Javi, Dexter, and Dani to the nearest gas station to fix a tire slowly leaking air. The rest of the team planned to continue their chase as you all ventured further away from the forming storms. But the universe seemed to have to out for you; a cruel and unusual fate that you returned to after five whole years of healing.

A storm had switched directions, picked up speed, just as it had when you were in college. Before you fully knew what was happening, Dani slammed on the breaks, spinning the camper just slightly as the wind tugged on the vehicle, ratting it straight through to your bones. 

Everything fell fuzzy on your ears; all you heard was the awful howl of wind and your heart lurch into your throat. Someone tugged on your arm, forcing you out of your daze. Javi grasped your shoulders, shaking you slightly. 

“We’ve gotta go!” he yelled above the rising noise all around you. Together, you followed Dani and Dexter out of the camper, stumbling into the wide open. The wind whipped all around you and rain drenched you from head to toe almost immediately. 

You spotted the tornado behind you; its size monstrous, turning the sky an ugly gray. 

“This way!” Dani yelled, pointing toward it. The second your eyes landed on the overpass, standing almost as monstrous in your mind as the twister raging behind you, you felt heavy dread cement your feet to the road. Your lungs burned, a scream to tell them to stop stuck in your throat. But all you could muster was turning to Javi, who held onto your arm. 

“No,” you whispered, the world blurring as the storm grew nearer and nearer. “No, no, no. There has to be somewhere else-” 

He cut you off, eyes shining with something almost as fearful as your own. “There is no where else!"

You watched for a horrible moment as Dani and Dexter sprinted toward the overpass. In their shadow, you saw Addy and Jeb and Praveen running ahead of you for the very last time. Javi slipped his hand into yours and took off after them, forcing your feet to move. 

You ran through the rain, lungs and legs on fire. The second you all stumbled under the overpass, you felt the gut-wrenching tug of wind try so desperately to knock you off your feet. You gritted your teeth, flushed with so much fear it circled back to determination. You had been determined that day too. Determined to reach back and find Praveen after he vanished from your sight. Determined to keep holding Addy’s hand as she tried to climb up on the ledge after you. Determined to help Kate hold onto Jeb. 

When it was left to just you and Kate, you weren’t sure you had ever held onto anyone so tightly, only to let them go once the storm had settled. You had found her again, slipped right back into your old ways, but there would always be that thing that stood between you two; a shared bond and blood that you couldn’t talk about. And it was happening to you all over again. 

“Up there! Let’s go!” Javi yelled, ushering everyone up onto the slippery slope of concrete where the very same ledge was. Dexter crawled up first and you right after him. The wind only grew harsher, knocking Dani to her knees. 

You screamed something terrible, bending down and clutching her wrist so tightly you knew there’d be bruises left behind. But you hadn’t held onto Addy tight enough. You could have saved her; you know you could have, despite what everyone tried to tell you. But Dani was there, and you weren’t going to let her go. You pulled her up with all the strength you could muster as Javi crawled up the slope beside you, helping you. 

Together you got Dani up with all three of you, but the wind pulled on each of you so hard. With each second you felt your body threaten to get swept away, but you clutched the ledge with the same ferocity you had back then. 

Javi’s head was ducked right beside yours and one hand was snaked around you. You fisted the fabric of his shirt, tears and rain pouring down your face as the tornado engulfed the overpass. Under your hold, you felt Javi start to move, pull away but not of his own volition. You grabbed him tightly, hooking your arm around his. 

You couldn’t lose him too. The Javi who had swooped in in the aftermath, distraught but composed enough to take both you and Kate to the hospital. The Javi who, despite your fallout still left you birthday messages. The Javi who you came back to, who meant more than words could properly describe to you. You could feel him slipping from your fingers, but you only held on tighter, testing Mother Nature and her wrath. If she was going to take him, she’d have to take you too. 

It felt like a lifetime, but it was only a minute tops before the tornado passed and moved on. Javi’s body slammed back into the concrete, the wind puttering out. You couldn’t tell what on your body was physical wounds and what was phantom pain, but that hardly mattered as you peered back, seeing both Dexter and Dani still with you, not unharmed but alive. 

A cry of relief left your lips as you sat upright. Hands gently grasped the sides of your face, and your attention was on Javi. He wiped the rain and teardrops from your cheeks before resting his forehead against yours, letting out his own breath of relief. You threw your arms around him, holding him to ensure yourself you both were okay. 

“Guys,” Dani croaked, getting your attention. “The rest of the team...they’re here.” 

You cranked your head to see Tyler’s truck hurry beside the flipped-over camper. You all slid down the concrete slope and landed on the road to see the devastation left behind the tornado’s wake. 

From Tyler’s truck, you watched as Kate jumped out of the passenger door. She sprinted toward you, and you and Javi started to hobble out from the overpass. There was a sharp pain across your knee, burning with each step, but you didn’t care. 

There was a look of both horror and relief pained across Kate’s face as she approached the two of you. Without hesitating, she threw her arms around you and Javi, holding you guys close as her shoulder’s shook. 

“We saw the storm change but when he tried to reach you, you weren’t there,” she muttered into your shoulder. “You weren’t there, and we saw…I thought…” You pulled back from her embrace, seeing the same shell-shocked woman you had five years ago, only she was a little tougher and a little lighter now.  

“We’re okay,” you whispered, to both her and yourself. 

All of the Wranglers gathered around the three of you, checking on each other. You had a nasty cut across your knee, Javi had scratches littering his legs and one across his forehead, and Dani and Dexter both had bloodied limbs too. But aside from that, you all were still standing in some miracle that you couldn’t wrap your head around. 

“That was a hell of a storm,” Dani muttered, ringing out her soaked hat. She gazed at you, holding up her bright red wrist. “And you’ve got a hell of a grip.” 

Something between a sob and a laugh escaped your lips. Javi placed his hand on the small of your back, something that had always kept you steady. “I wasn’t going to let you go.” Your words held more weight than most of the Wranglers knew, but not Kate. She slipped her hand into yours, squeezing it lightly as to say she was there, she remembered, and she was just as sorry as you were. 

“I think that’s enough excitement for today,” Tyler said. “Let’s call it, get cleaned up, and grab some dinner. Yeah?” 

Everyone nodded and started walking toward Tyler’s truck, which they all were going to have to squeeze into. But you, Javi, and Kate lingered behind. 

“Are you sure you guys are okay?” she asked again. “That…” Her words hung silently in the air. That was too familiar, too close. 

“Yeah,” Javi breathed out, shaky but a little more sure than moments before. “Right?” He turned to you. 

You nodded and gazed up at the sky that began to shine bright blue. It had that day too. You didn’t know what you believed in, what happened after life, but as the sun beamed down on the three of you, you thought of all of them: Addy, Jeb, and Praveen. Maybe they were peering down at the three of you. Maybe they made their own vow not to let any of you go. Or maybe Mother Nature thought your fate had already been screwed with enough. Whatever it was, you were still standing with no intention to let anyone else slip from your grasp.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Thistle, Scout and Scottish Bluebells pt 2

Pairing: Grumpy!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,036

If troubles are anything, they are hard to lay to rest.

Tags:  httyd 1, aged up, au, time travel, Hiccup’s POV, mixed flashbacks, angst

<Previous - Next>

The sound of uneven footsteps rested like a heavy weight at the bottom of his sternum, worsening already pained aches and furrowing his brows so deep he thought they might pull like a leg in a rainy day, after running measures, a slightly more toned and a completely imaginary contrast to the now near-constant ringing in his ears, mimicking the way a thick hammer sounded clashing against metal.

Cracks lay like gashes in the stone, deep like the strike of lightning… like the way a knife’s blade carved lines in wood.

Formerly bulky shoulders flagged, laying haphazard across rumpled cross. A crooked jaw lay half-open as a previously jolly man was rendered pale and nearly lifeless by sickness and infection. 

He relished in the cool shadow of the Arena’s overpass entrance for the moment it took to walk underneath, wincing slightly as he came to a stop just at where hard light drew a solid line over uneven stone. 

He sat, shoulders hunched and hands clenched, sitting over a rickety chair, chanting desperate apologies as he listened to the rages of battle outside and to the final-screaming battle-calls of the warriors outside, lost to the night.

For a moment, running his hand along the border between open grated frame and the outside world, he reveled in the contrast between his own freckled, scarred knuckles and the cool, mottled surface of the arena’s colorless walls.

He weighed a rolled-up, wrinkled notice in his other hand before letting them both drop to his sides.

The Chief’s hut was far from the safest place on Berk. Tonight, for him most of all. A cold sweat ran down his shoulders, his jaw, his back.

He’d much rather be wasting away, wearing his wrists brittle in the forge. He yearned for that place just as much he hated it, walls plugged and nailed shut with smoke and soot filling the air with a thick film.

After all this time, he very much preferred to be left on his own. Being back here brought back memories he’d much rather leave forgotten.

He stared forwards.

They hadn’t noticed him yet. 

They were all on the opposite side of the basin, where above, mounted along the rim of the arena, a cage that was once strong and well-taken care of was now crumbling in places, slightly bent and moved out of sorts. 

 Some cage doors were obviously offset and heavily dented, the logs used to lock them shut old and almost rotting, the pulley system levers and cogs and great draw-hinges attached to the sides and frame all old and slightly rusty and in need of oiling.

He stood, hand at his sides. 

It would need to be taken apart and scrubbed raw, resealed and a new log mounted or perhaps replaced by more metal and held aloft by chains instead of rope. The already frayed ropes were probably not enough to hold its weight, half-snapped and dangerous. A head and a half thick, he remembered, was the proper measurement for the right… log.

The sun lay heavily across his shoulders, as if he was being burned over a spit, sparks flying from his heart and dropping from his half-open mouth as he looked around with a smile. 

Every individual man made up one part of a whole, ripped sleeves, marching up thin ladders, boasting half-empty mugs and wives and a child running about.

A repair like this used to be a group event- throngs of Vikings gathering together, bumping shoulders and bolstering themselves up high, wielding hammers and hardy conversation like wooden play-swords. It was painstaking work made easy.

It was as if he didn’t exist- as if he was not so much an individual as one part of the merry-making, the festivities, the joy, even if there was no real holiday, even as he stood and watched. It was as if he wasn’t who he was; a runt, trouble… him.

…And it was the best feeling ever.

On his lonesome, with a ladder and a pulley, it might be managed. 

It was all work he wasn’t going to do.

He took his time, lingering for a moment, judging. 

 He had better things to be doing.

“I-I think my invite was lost…” Fishlegs said, palms spasming, balled in front of him as if searching for papers and things that might as well never have been there. 

He was different from the last time he’d seen him, though he was still a man just as large as he was tall, with a timid lilt to his shoulders that seemed quite unbefitting. His voice was just as squeaky as it was deep. The arena did a great deal to make it echo, just as it did the sound of patchy boots shuffling against uneven stone floors. 

“I got it.” He said curtly, waving the notice in one hand, feeling his already rolled-up sleeve scrunch against his elbow. His voice, still slightly nasal for a man of his age, echoed slightly.

It was immediate- as soon as He spoke, it was as if time itself stopped. There were no breezes or motions besides a jerk or two in his direction, the eternal dancing of hearts and bodies and nature coming to a pause.

Something bucked and festered in his chest. He knew what the feeling wasn’t- hope, camaraderie, acceptance. It was more bitter, drenched in shame and long-held resentment. It had been his one constant companion all these years.

 There were a set of two starved, wiry twins. They used to look nearly identical- now the male brother-half donned a mask of burnt skin and clumped hair on one side. Though his sleeves carried many holes and singes and stains from his time working in the forge, theirs was almost worse, covered in Nightmare-length, sticked claw marks and large, frayed, burnt patches.

There was a thicker, though somewhat short man there, too, standing besides a woman. He was just as scarred as he was stocky. His cousin. 

“Oh, great,” Snotlout snorted, squaring his shoulders even more so as he stepped forwards, studded belt-sash shifting over his chest. 

He glowered at the lot, his shoulders tall, cool air running invisible blades up and down his arms, standing all his hairs and giving way to prickled gooseflesh. He felt the grit of his jaw as he bit down on already gently clenched teeth.

“What are you doing here, Useless?” The woman asked, moving forwards when no one else would. She had a long, jagged scar running from just above her right eye to the curve of her jaw. Her voice wasn’t condescending, wielding Usless’s moniker more as if it was a simple factual statement than an insult, though he knew there lay plenty of bad blood between them.

Of course, it was his official title, now. That was unhelpable- as unavoidable as a blade held to his neck and a heavy, hairy hand lifting him by the scruff of his shirt, nearly choking him breathless.

Astrid Hofferson was her name.

Gobber was there too, thick cheeks now hollow, highlighting high cheekbones and a crooked jaw. A hunch that had always been there was now so severe he looked as if he might keel over at any moment, an ailing arm clutching at the top of a very short talking staff. His clothes hung thinly from his shoulders, moving in a way that, despite their solid color, made them seem so thin that they could have almost been transparent.

He was a shadow of a man- something dead walking. He turned his eyes away from Gobber just as he refused to cower as the Hofferson woman approached.

She stopped before him as he shoved down something a little bit like irritation, betrayal… grief.

He wheezed, crouching prone along the floor, his hands covering his head as thick smoke packed his lungs, making it harder to breathe. His chests ached, stinging and searing in lines, dull pain raging like storming waters just above his heart-

In the lilt of her brow, the intensity of her eye, the line of her mouth, the subtle scarring clawed into the side of her face and long since scabbed over, framed by dragon-skull shoulder pads and a hefty, patchy fur hood he saw what she thought just as clearly as she had said it all those years ago. 

He couldn’t think, the world muffled past the uncontrolled crackling of dragon fire, clanging shields and swords, yelling and roaring, deep claws scraping against solid stone.

In a look he almost returned, he could feel it aimed right back to her. The sentiments, he could have mistaken it for the sun singing against his skin’s hairs, what with all the concentrated heat and the nearly sense-rending prickling of the hairs on his neck. It was anger, mostly. Really, it would be better for them all -him most especially- if he was left alone.

Where there once lay a special portion of his mind for mooning and yearning and other rash teenaged things there now lingered something mean and hollow.

Are you ashamed?

Awnry ringing was made more intense by the sudden, hollow whistling through the spaces between bars and over hollow basin.

“‘Iccup!” A hand reached towards him, cloth strips wrapped heavily around it, thick, through green smog.

He couldn’t move- his limbs clenched and spasmed, still reeling from the force of the dragon’s blow. There was a ringing, sharp and never ending, spearing through his ears and filling all empty spaces between noises, uplifting and entwining with the sound of screeching metal and heavy body rushing through sickly-smelling gasses.

His finger, his elbow, his knees all pulling in- he forced up his head as if working endlessly against the rusted, stuffed hinges of his neck just in time to catch a glimpse of him.

His face, bearded braids trailing slightly behind, rushing towards him, jaw open- It was action, both fast and frozen enough to almost be one of the many great, carved murals in the hall.

He’d remember it forever. He wasn’t fearful. He’d never really been, but in that moment, like the rapidly foaming top of a large, cresting wave, doom rose in his guts, ravaging through his middle and tearing his insides to shreds.

He was no warrior, battle-scarred or otherwise. Despite his stature, his frame was lean and he was worn. Though his chin was heavily scruffed, he was not bearded or thick. He was stubborn, though, and he was angry.

She knew who he was and made sure he knew it too. Even after- standing at stall windows, making mild conversation, forcing words out past hard hearts- to search for some kind of acknowledgement from someone who mattered, even if it was just a greeting, to know that he was real, he was here, he was worth something. All of that had long since been put to rest- killed, slain like a hapless animal. She made sure of that.

“I don’t know what you want.” 

The world was still and bright outside, the shadow of the forge’s window covering him like an old blanket. He leaned back as she jabbed him in the chest. She was angry, her brows furrowed, leaning aggressively forwards-

He looked down on her.

”-Useless is your name, now After what you did in the arena? I don’t want to talk to you, see you or hear you. You sharpen my weapon and that. Is. It.”

He needed a drink. The taste of ale was phantom-strong on his tongue. It was a taste he’d become more familiar with in his late teens during times spent bitter and alone, but ale meant going up to the hall and he wasn’t soft on people.

That was where they gathered, mostly- those who had been left behind. Many abandoned their own homes for the safety and refuge of company and large, frigid hall walls, setting up old blankets and clumsy tents in abandoned, dusty corners.

Without looking away, he tossed the missive behind one crumbling barricade, propped up against the smooth arena walls.

He made sure to hold her gaze for one more long, hard moment before turning and waving an arm absently behind him, “I was just leaving.”

[im-a-goat-in-disguise]

Hey there! Do you want the entire wall-e script? Here you go.

EXT. SPACE

FADE IN:

Stars.

The upbeat show tune, Put On Your Sunday Clothes, plays.

“Out there, there’s a world outside of Yonkers...”

More stars.

Distant galaxies, constellations, nebulas...

A single planet.

Drab and brown.

Moving towards it.

Pushing through its polluted atmosphere.

“...Close your eyes and see it glisten...”

EXT. PLANET’S SURFACE - CONTINUOUS

A range of mountains takes form in the haze.

Moving closer.

The mountains are piles of TRASH.

The entire surface is nothing but waste.

“...We’re gonna find adventure in the evening air...”

A silhouetted city in the distance.

What looks like skyscrapers turns into trash.

Thousands of neatly stacked CUBES OF TRASH, stories high.

Rows and rows of stacked cubes, like city avenues.

They go on for miles.

EXT. AVENUE OF TRASH

“...Beneath your parasol the world is all a smile...”

Something moving on the ground far below.

A figure at the foot of a trash heap.

A SMALL SERVICE ROBOT diligently cubing trash.

Rusted, ancient.

Cute.

Every inch of him engineered for trash compacting.

Mini-shovel hands collect junk.

Scoop it into his open chassis.

His front plate closes slowly, compressing waste.

A faded label on his corroded chest plate:

“Waste Allocation Loader - Earth Class” (WALLY)

Wally spits out a cube of trash.

Stacks it with the others.

Something catches his eye.

Tugs on a piece of metal stuck in the stack.

A hubcap.

The sun reflects off it.

Wally checks the sky.

ON TRASH HEAP HORIZON

The sun sets through the smoggy haze.

“...And we won’t come back until we’ve kissed a girl --”

He places the hubcap in his compactor.

Presses a button on his chest.

The song stops playing.

The end of a work day.

Wally attaches a lunch cooler to his back.

Whistles for his pet COCKROACH.

The insect hops on his shoulder.

They motor down from the top of a GIANT TRASH TOWER.

EXT. AVENUES OF TRASH - DUSK

Wally travels alone.

Traverses miles of desolate waste.

Oblivious to roving storms of toxic weather.

Passes haunting structures buried within the trash.

Buildings, highways, entire cities...

Everything branded with the SAME COMPANY LOGO.

“Buy N Large”

“BNL” stores, restaurants, banks...transportation!

The corporation ran every aspect of life.

There’s even a BNL LOGO on Wally’s chest plate.

CLOSE ON NEWSPAPER Wally drives over.

Headline: “TOO MUCH TRASH!! Earth Covered!!”

The deck: “BNL CEO Declares Global Emergency!”

A photo of the BNL CEO giving a weak smile.

Wally’s old treads are threadbare.

Practically falling apart.

Cause a bumpy ride for his cockroach.

He passes the remains of other RUSTED WALL-E UNITS.

Fancies one with NEWER TREADS than his own...

EXT. DESERTED STREET - MOMENTS LATER

Wally now sports the newer treads.

Rolls past a SERIES OF HOLOGRAPHIC BILLBOARDS.

The solar-powered ads still activate when he passes them.

2.

BILLBOARD ANNOUNCER (V.O.)

(Ad #1: BNL logo over trash)

Too much garbage in your face?

(Ad #2: starliner in space)

There’s plenty of space out in space!

(Ad #3: starliners take off

from Earth)

BNL starliners leaving each day.

(Ad #4: WALL-E units wave

goodbye)

We’ll clean up the mess while you’re

away.

EXT. EDGE OF THE CITY

Wally drives down a deserted overpass.

Activates an even LARGER HOLOGRAPHIC BILLBOARD.

CLOSE ON BILLBOARD AD

Shows off a CITY-SIZED LUXURY STARLINER.

Depicts passengers enjoying all its amenities.

BILLBOARD ANNOUNCER (V.O.)

The jewel of the BNL fleet: “The Axiom”.

Spend your five year cruise in style.

Waited on 24 hours a day by our fully

automated crew, while your Captain and

Autopilot chart a course for non-stop

entertainment, fine dining. And with our

all-access hover chairs, even Grandma can

join the fun! There’s no need to walk!

“The Axiom”. Putting the “star” in

Executive Starliner.

The BNL CEO appears at the end.

Waves goodbye as the Axiom takes off.

BUY N LARGE CEO

Because, at BNL, space is the final “fun”-

tier.

The holographic billboard powers off.

Reveals the AXIOM’S DESERTED LAUNCHPAD in the distance.

The mammoth structure sits across the bay.

Now empty and dry. A polluted, dead valley.

ON COLLAPSED BRIDGE RAMP

Near its edge rests a WALL-E UNIT TRANSPORT TRUCK.

A giant child’s Tonka Truck left to weather the elements.

A “Buy N Large” logo on its side.

Wally approaches the rear of the truck.

3.

Pulls on a lever.

The back lowers.

Wally motors up the ramp.

INT. TRUCK - CONTINUOUS

Open racks for storing WALL-Es line both walls.

KNICKKNACKS OF FOUND JUNK littered everywhere.

The tired robot removes his newfound treads.

Ahh... Home.

Wally motors down the center aisle.

Flicks on an ancient BETAMAX PLAYER.

Jury-rigged to an iPod.

Pushes in a cassette labeled, “Hello Dolly!”

The image is very poor quality.

Actors sing and dance to Put On Your Sunday Clothes (POYSC).

The same song Wally worked to.

WALLY

[Hums POYSC]

Wally opens his cooler.

Newfound knickknacks.

Pulls out the hubcap from his chest.

Looks back at the TV.

Mimics the dancers on the screen.

Pretends the hubcap is a hat.

Continues to unpack:

A spork.

A Rubik’s Cube (unsolved).

A Zippo Lighter.

He presses a BUTTON by the rack of shelves.

They rotate until an empty space appears.

His new items are lovingly added to the shelf.

The Zippo joins a pre-existing LIGHTER COLLECTION.

A new song, It Only Takes A Moment, plays on the video.

Wally is drawn to it.

Presses his “Record” button.

ON TV SCREEN

Two lovers sing gently to one another.

They kiss...hold hands...

Wally tilts his head as he watches.

Curious.

Holds his own hands.

4.

EXT. TRUCK - NIGHT

Wally motors outside.

Turns over his Igloo cooler to clean it out.

Pauses to take in the night sky.

STARS struggle to be seen through the polluted haze.

Wally presses the “Play” button on his chest.

The newly sampled It Only Takes A Moment (IOTAM) plays.

The wind picks up.

A WARNING LIGHT sounds on Wally’s chest.

He looks out into the night.

A RAGING SANDSTORM approaches off the bay...

Unfazed, Wally heads back in the truck.

IOTAM still gently playing.

...The massive wave of sand roars closer...

Wally raises the door.

Pauses.

WHISTLES for his cockroach to come inside.

The door shuts just as the storm hits.

Obliterates everything in view.

INT. TRUCK - SAME

Wally alone in the center of his shelter.

Unwraps a BNL SPONGECAKE (think Twinkie).

Lays it out for the cockroach to sleep in.

It happily dives in.

Wally collapses himself into a storable cube.

Backs into an empty shelf space.

Rocks it like a cradle...

...and shuts down for the night.

Outside the wind howls like the Hounds of Hell.

INT. WALLY’S TRUCK - NEXT MORNING

Wally’s CHARGE METER flashes “WARNING”.

He wakes. Unboxes.

Groggy and lifeless.

Stumbles outside.

EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK

The morning sun.

Wally fully exposed in its light.

His front panel splayed out like a tanning shield.

A solar collector.

5.

His CHARGE METER chimes full.

Solar panels fold away into hiding.

Wally, now awake, collects his lunch cooler.

Heads off to work.

...and accidentally runs over the cockroach.

Horrified, Wally reverses.

Reveals the FLATTENED INSECT under his tread.

The cockroach simply pops back to life.

No biggie. Ready to go.

Relieved, Wally resumes their commute.

EXT. WALLY’S WORK SITE - THAT MORNING

A SERIES OF “WALLY AT WORK” MOMENTS:

- CU of Wally’s hands digging into garbage.

CU of trash being scooped into his chest compactor.

A cube lands by the cockroach.

- Wally discovers a BRA in the garbage.

Unsure what it’s for.

Tries placing it over his eyes, like glasses.

Tosses it in his cooler.

- Wally finds a set of CAR KEYS.

Presses the remote lock.

Somewhere in the distance a CAR ALARM CHIRPS.

- Plays with a paddle ball.

The ball keeps smacking him in the face.

He doesn’t like it.

- Wally discovers a DIAMOND RING in a JEWEL CASE.

Throws out the ring. Keeps the case.

The jewel case drops into the cooler, then...

...A RUBBER DUCKY...

...A BOBBLE HEAD DOLL...

...An OLD BOOT...

...A TROPHY...

- Wally finds a FIRE EXTINGUISHER.

Activates it.

FOAM blasts in his face.

It’s tossed far, far away from his cooler.

- Wally’s shovel hand strikes something solid.

Faces a REFRIGERATOR much larger than himself.

Now what?

- CU on fridge door.

A WELDING BEAM moves down its center.

It emits from between Wally’s SPLIT BINOCULAR EYES.

6.

The door falls apart in two pieces. Reveals...

...a SMALL PLANT

in its early stage of growth.

Wally is entranced.

Carefully, he extracts the section of earth around it.

CLOSE ON IGLOO COOLER

Wally gently places the plant inside the old boot.

Dusts dirt off the leaves.

EXT. TRUCK - DUSK

Robot and faithful cockroach return home.

Wally stops short of the threshold.

Stares at the ground.

Continues staring.

A RED DOT

quivers on the dirt.

A single laser point of light.

Wally moves to touch it...

...The dot races along the ground.

Wally drops his Igloo.

Chases after the dot.

EXT. EMPTY BAY

The dot leads Wally deep into the polluted expanse.

He is so fixated on it he doesn’t notice

MANY LASER POINTS

coming from every direction.

All racing into the valley over the contour of the terrain.

Triangulating towards a center.

Wally’s dot suddenly stops.

Slowly he reaches for it.

Can’t grab it. Just light.

ALL THE DOTS converge in front of him.

The ground shakes.

Wally becomes confused.

Doesn’t see above him.

The SUN growing brighter behind the cloud cover.

A noise. Building.

7.

Rocket engines.

Wally senses he should look to the sky.

Now THREE SUNS are descending on him.

Wally runs for it.

An enormous COLUMN OF FIRE blocks his path.

A second column of fire.

A third.

Trapped.

Wally cubes the ground beneath him.

Working fast.

Noise deafening.

Heat rising.

Digs in just as a tide of flame carpets the ground...

...Then suddenly quiet.

Smoke clears.

CLOSE ON THE SCORCHED EARTH

Wally’s head rises out of the dirt.

Glows red hot from the heat.

Trembles with fright.

Everything in shadow.

Something very big looms over him.

Wally climbs out of his hole.

Bangs his head on metal.

WIDE on a massive SPACESHIP.

Rests ominously in the empty bay.

A PORTAL on its underside opens.

Frightened, Wally tries to hide.

Nowhere to go.

He places a SMALL ROCK on his head. Boxes up.

A DEVICE lowers to the ground on a long stem.

Scans the surface.

Wally creeps closer for a better look.

The device unfolds.

Wally boxes up again.

A CAPSULE descends from a chute in the stem.

ROBOT ARMS emerge from the device.

Place the capsule on the ground. Press buttons.

The capsule falls away in sections, to reveal...

...a PROBE ROBOT.

It hovers gracefully above the ground.

White. Egg-shaped.

8.

Blue-lit eyes.

Female.

Eve.

Wally is transfixed.

Inches closer.

Watches Eve from behind the device.

Tilts his head.

Time stops.

She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Eve hovers over the ground.

A BLUE RAY emits from her front panel.

Fans out 180 degrees.

Scans random objects and areas.

The device rises back into the ship.

Exposes Wally.

He rushes for cover behind the nearest rock.

Never takes his eyes off Eve.

Watches her float away from the ship.

...from the ship?

The ship!

Engines roar back to life.

Wally digging furiously.

The rocket takes off.

Smoke clears.

Again, a red hot Wally peeks out from the ground.

Looks for Eve.

She is watching the ship rise into the clouds.

Waits until it is completely out of sight...

...then Eve rises high up into the air.

She flies around the bay.

Soars like a graceful bird.

Does loops in the sky.

Zooms right past Wally’s rock.

He is hypnotized.

Eve descends gently to the ground...

Wally sneaks up closer.

Hides behind another boulder.

Slips.

Makes a NOISE.

Instantly, Eve whips around.

Her arm converts into a LASER CANNON.

Blasts Wally’s boulder to smithereens.

...Smoke clears...All quiet.

Eve, now cold and dangerous.

9.

Scans the area.

No sign of life.

All business again.

Hovers away to probe more of the planet.

ON OTHER SIDE OF BOULDER CRATER

Wally boxed up behind what little remains of the rock.

Trembles uncontrollably.

EXT. AVENUE OF TRASH - DAY

Eve wanders through the pillars of cubed trash.

Scans random areas.

Wally spies from the shadows.

Too frightened to approach.

She moves on. He follows.

EXT. TIRE DUMP - DAY

Eve probes a mound of tires.

Wally hiding nearby.

He flinches at the sight of

HIS COCKROACH

innocently approaching Eve from behind.

She spins around.

Blasts the insect.

Wally is gut-punched.

The cockroach climbs out of the smoking crater.

Unscathed. Still curious.

Eve finds the insect intriguing.

Lowers her arm.

The end separates into individual hovering sections...

...A HAND.

She lets the insect crawl up her arm.

Wiggles into her workings.

It tickles.

EVE

[Giggles]

Wally relaxes.

CHUCKLES privately.

Eve sonically picks up Wally’s location.

Locks onto him.

10.

Arm converts to laser cannon.

Fires rapidly.

Quick glimpses of Wally dodging the blasts.

Trash piles are systematically obliterated around him.

Wally now exposed.

Nowhere to hide.

Boxes himself up. Shakes uncontrollably.

Eve holds her fire.

EVE

(electronic hums)

[Identify yourself.]

She slowly approaches Wally’s box.

Keeps her gun trained on him.

EVE

(electronic hums)

[Repeat. Identify yourself.]

Wally peeks out from his box.

Doesn’t understand a thing she says.

Doesn’t care.

Can’t believe she’s real.

The cockroach climbs down her gun arm.

Jumps onto his master.

Eve scans Wally.

A RED LIGHT appears on her chest.

Buzzes “negative”.

He’s not what she’s looking for.

She retracts her gun arm.

Hovers off.

Wally watches her go. Lovestruck.

WALLY

[Sigh.]

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. ABANDONED BNL SUPERSTORE - NEXT DAY

LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S “LA VIE EN ROSE” PLAYS

Eve scans through the market.

Wally follows from a safe distance.

A stray puppy-dog.

Eve glances over at him.

Wally panics.

Bumps into a RACK OF SHOPPING CARTS.

Creates an avalanche.

11.

They chase him down a flight of stairs.

Wally reaches the exit doors.

Won’t open!

Carts pig pile on top of him.

EXT. BNL REFINERY - NIGHT

Wally perched on the roof.

Patiently watches Eve fly.

She scans the ground below her, like a searchlight.

Eve comes in for a landing below.

Shuts down for the night.

Wally waits.

Quietly sneaks down the refinery fire escape.

Accidentally trips. Tumbles to the ground.

Eve doesn’t wake.

Wally creeps up to her.

Opens his arms wide...

...and measures her.

Turns to a pile of trash.

Splits open his eyes. Begins welding something...

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. BNL REFINERY - NEXT MORNING

Eve powers up again.

Does a double take.

A TRASH SCULPTURE OF EVE stands in front of her.

She hovers away, unimpressed.

Doesn’t notice Wally hiding behind a PILE OF PIPES.

Wally kicks the pipes in frustration.

They roll on top of him.

SONG ENDS

MONTAGE OF EVE SEARCHING

- Scans a car engine.

Negative.

Slams the hood shut.

- Scans a Port-A-Potty.

Negative.

Slams the door shut.

- Scans an Apollo capsule.

Negative.

Slams the hatch shut.

- Scans a FREIGHTER HOLD.

12.

Negative.

Slams the lid shut.

EXT. DERELICT SHIPYARD - DUSK

Eve hovers over the freighter.

Frustrated.

Not finding what she’s looking for.

Wally eavesdrops from afar.

Eve flies past the ship’s CRANE MAGNET.

Gets stuck.

Wrestles to free herself.

Furious, she BLOWS UP THE ENTIRE SHIP.

The reaction startles Wally.

Eve slumps down against a dredged anchor.

She gives up.

Concerned, Wally cautiously approaches.

Sits at the other end of the anchor.

Both robots stare silently at the fiery wreck.

Then...

...slowly, very slowly, Wally inches towards her.

Musters the courage to speak, when --

She suddenly turns to him:

EVE

(hums)

[So what’s your story?]

Wally falls backwards with surprise.

Me?

Eve scrolls through a variety of languages:

EVE

(German)

[Directive?]

(Japanese)

[Directive?]

WALLY

[Huh?]

EVE

(Swahili)

[Directive?]

(English)

Directive?

WALLY

(beeps)

[Oh, I understand that!]

13.

EVE

Directive?

Wally eagerly turns to some nearby trash.

Scoops it into his compactor.

Proudly spits out a cube.

Points to Eve.

WALLY

(struggles to speak)

Di...rec...t--

EVE

Directive?

Wally nods.

EVE

Classified.

WALLY

(beeps)

[Oh. Sorry.]

She scans his CHEST LOGO.

EVE

Name?

WALLY

(struggles again)

W-wally? ...Wally.

EVE

(smooth; almost perfect)

Wwww-aaaa-leee...

Wally nearly melts.

She says his name so beautifully.

Moves closer.

EVE

Wally. (giggles)

Eve.

Wally tries to repeat it:

WALLY

Eeee...?

EVE

(slower)

Eve.

14.

WALLY

Eeeaaah?

EVE

Eeeve. Eeeve.

WALLY

Eee--vah!

She giggles again.

Wally likes making her giggle.

WALLY

Eee-vah! Ee --

EVE

Eve.

The wind kicks up.

The WARNING LIGHT sounds on Wally’s chest.

He moves to grab her.

WALLY

(Gasp!) Eee-vah!

EVE

(hums)

[Hey watch it! Don’t come any closer!]

She draws her gun on him.

Doesn’t understand the danger.

The sandstorm rushes up behind her.

Too late.

Wally collapses into a box.

The storm hits full force.

Eve is instantly lost, disoriented.

EVE

Wally? Wally?

WALLY’S HAND appears out of the dust.

Calmly takes Eve’s hand.

INT. TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

The back door lowers.

A rush of wind and sand.

Wally pulls Eve inside. Closes the door.

She coughs up dust.

Wally hits a switch...

Strings of CHRISTMAS LIGHTS fill the space.

His racks of oddities painted in colored light.

15.

An air of enchantment.

Eve is taken aback.

WALLY

(beeps)

[Come on in.]

She drifts through the sea of knickknacks.

Becomes spooked by a SINGING BILLY BASS FISH.

Threatens to shoot it, but Wally calms her down.

He is compelled to show her everything.

Hands her an eggbeater...

...bubble wrap (so infectious to pop)...

...a lightbulb (lights when she holds it)...

...the Rubik’s Cube (she solves it immediately)...

...his Hello Dolly tape.

Curious, she begins unspooling the tape.

WALLY

(loud beeps)

[My tape!!]

He grabs it back. Protective.

Inserts it carefully into the VCR. Please still work.

The movie eventually appears on the TV.

Plays a clip of POYSC.

Wally is relieved.

WALLY

(beeps)

[What do you think?]

Mimics the dancing for Eve.

Encourages her to try.

She clumsily hops up and down.

Makes dents in the floor. Rattles everything.

Wally politely stops her.

WALLY

(beeps)

[How ‘bout we try a different move?]

Spins in a circle. Arms out.

Eve copies.

Spins faster, and faster...

Too fast.

Accidentally strikes Wally. He flies into the shelves.

Eve helps him up from the mess.

Wally’s LEFT BINOCULAR EYE falls off.

Dangles from two wires.

Eve GASPS with concern.

Wally placates her.

16.

WALLY

(beeps)

[It’s fine.]

Feels his way to the rack of shelves.

Rotates them until...

...SPARE WALL-E PARTS appear.

Replaces his broken eye with a new one.

Eve is relieved.

She eyes his LIGHTER COLLECTION.

Flicks open a Zippo. Ignites a FLAME.

Wally freezes.

He had no idea it could do that.

Moves closer to inspect it...

ON WALLY

It’s the closest he’s ever been to Eve.

She remains focused on the lighter.

Wally stares up at her.

...The tiny flame flickering between them...

...The Hello Dolly video plays IOTAM in the background...

Suddenly, he is moved to express his love.

Musters the courage to open his fingers...

...Timidly reaches his hand out to hers...

-- Eve turns and looks at him.

Wally instantly chokes.

Pulls his hand back.

Eve becomes intrigued with the TV.

Scans the image of the lovers singing IOTAM...

Wally watches her.

His infatuation still palpable.

Then he remembers...

WALLY

Ee-vah!

He rushes to his shelves.

Eve watches him rummage through junk.

A drum falls down on his head.

She giggles, charmed by it all.

Something about Wally...

She is drawn back to the lovers on TV...

...then the lit Zippo lighter in her hand.

A tap on her shoulder.

She turns to find Wally holding something.

The plant.

Eve immediately locks onto it.

17.

Drops the lighter.

In a flash...

...her chest opens...

...a TRACTOR BEAM snatches the plant away...

...stores it inside her...

Then she shuts down completely.

Only a SINGLE GREEN LIGHT pulsing on her chest.

Wally is stunned.

What’d I do?

Waves his hand in front of her face.

WALLY

Ee-vah?

Knocks on her chest plate.

No response.

Wally panics.

Gently shakes her.

WALLY

Ee-vah?

Still no response.

WALLY

Ee-vah? ...Ee-vah?!

CAMERA MOVES IN on the blinking green light...

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK - DAY

The morning sun.

Wally places Eve in his charging spot.

Aims her hovering form to f

Actually looks like I can only post the first "part", roughly... Already this is lagging my phone. Will experiment more tomorrow. For now, enjoy!

[adultswim2021]

Aqua Teen Hunger Force #96: “Juggalo” | April 5th, 2010 - 12:00AM | S08E08

Hey, this one’s pretty memorable, and actually has a decent amount of context on which I can heap. I love heaping things, so let’s go to it: 

Shake is attempting to create a simple diversion for some comedy reason, and he does this by causing a massive pile-up by throwing a concrete slab off an overpass. One of the lives he cut short is Paul F. Tompkins, sorta playing his dapper-ass self. By that I mean he’s got the same personality and they drew him in a relatively accurate manner (I think his head is too small, personally). The man’s spirit haunts Shake and forces him to do good. He has the ability to send Shake to hell when he mouths off. He makes him be nice to Carl, which is the final straw. 

When the angel has a bout of “angel diarrhea” and has to excuse himself, Shake makes a break for it and quickly finds a demonic force to help him vanquish his heavenly pest. But he only has a few minutes on craigslist and the best he can dig up is a teenage juggalo. He’s voiced by Paul “once told me he liked my online comic strip and I am pretty sure he actually meant it” Rust. Shake’s plan doesn’t work, because the kid just dresses shake up like a Denny’s goth and makes him give him and his friends rides. Shake eventually can’t take the torment and blows his own head off with a shotgun. 

The final scene takes place in court. ICP, voicing they (whatever the opposite of “dapper” is)-ass selves, are being sued for their lyrics causing Shake's suicide. George Lowe is the lawyer representing Shake’s household, now in mourning. ICP lightly defends their lyrics, and then reveal they can spit literal fire, and set the court ablaze. That’s it, aside from a brief over the credits scene where Shake is in hell, washing Carl’s car, which I guess also died and went to hell. 

Back around this time, Paul F. Tompkins was very regular on The Best Show on WFMU with Tom Scharpling. Tom Scharpling was on the show way back in 2003’s “The Shaving”. Paul would call the Best Show most weeks and occupy a huge chunk of time. Their most remembered riff was them talking about the then-viral Gathering of the Juggalos in 2009. There’s even a trading card commemorating it. I have it somewhere! I can’t find it in my home, or online. Sorry. PFT and Tom had a falling out shortly after this. What a couple of weirdos!

One last bit: Paul is credited, probably to skirt union rules, as “Mr. Hutchinson”. This is a particularly arcane inside joke based on a story where Paul was recognized in public by fan. At the time, Paul was the host of Best Week Ever, and this fan, who loved the show, misidentified Paul as “Mr. Hutchinson”, believing that to be his name. I actually remember there being one episode of Best Week Ever where Paul came back from a commercial by saying “welcome back to Best Week Ever hosted by Paul F. Tompkins. I’m Mr. Hutchinson”. 

I liked this one fine. I think sometimes going heavy on the guest star can be a mistake, but this one works for me. I haven’t really kept up with PFT, but when this aired I genuinely thought he was one of the funniest guys out there. He might still be for all I know. I respect him, and I should respect him. I am going about this the exact correct way.

MAIL BAG

You wear a disguise to look like SNL guys, but you're not Will Ferrell, you're in Chickenfoot

Mr. Hutchinson? Now that reference I get. What the fuck is this? Some kind of disrespectful music parody? Answer me at once

[smuttyandabsurd]

Off Days (England x Greece)

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia Pairings: England/Greece, minor America/England Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 2,384 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary: After Alfred's death, Arthur is left with a void in his life, and he goes to Greece to relive the memories of their last holiday together. There he meets Herakles, a young Greek man who unexpectedly guides him to a path of healing.

This fic has been in WIP hell for 10 years, but I finally found the push to finish it. Originally written as a follow-up to an even older fic The Ghost of You.

Thank you @cluster-bi and @all-turns-to-moss for your help and insight.

Read it on AO3.

The phones were ringing all around, and Arthur kneaded his forehead as he weathered through a viciously abusive barrage from an irate customer.

“Sir, please lower your voice or I will be forced to terminate this call.”

When the customer screeched at him for being a stupid script-reading monkey (“Sir, please try to keep this conversation civil...”), told him to fuck off (“…this is your second warning…”), and finally, to go kill yourself, he ended the call with a tight-voiced, “I am terminating this call. Please call again when you can hold a professional conversation. Good day.”

He hung up and punched in an idle code before the phone could ring again, then rose to his feet. Fifteen minutes, he signalled to his harried-looking team leader who gave a terse nod.

It was not as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before. He had thought of it, repeatedly, but only as a shadow which he had never voiced aloud. He did not have to do it now that a customer had said it for him: Go kill yourself!

His walk in the bitter spitting cold brought him to his usual haunt, a pedestrian overpass stretched across a busy road at the back of the office building. He leaned against the railings, nursing a Styrofoam cup of milky tea from the vending machine. A tonne truck blared as it bounced along under the bridge. He wondered what it would feel like to fall under those wheels.

Vaguely, on an unconscious impulse, he stepped onto the bottom rung of the railings and leaned all his weight forward. All that stopped him from falling now was a thin sheet of rusting metal digging into his hips.

It felt… wrong. It felt very wrong, and a primal survival instinct screamed at him to step back!

No, no. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right. He would do it on his own terms, which was most certainly not at the back of a dilapidated office building at the behest of some prick over the phone.

Ten minutes later, he was back at his desk filing for a two-week holiday request. His team leader would have to approve it; it was getting near the end of the business year, and holidays were not transferable over to the next.

He spent the rest of the day looking up cheap flights to Greece in between phone calls.

-

It was stiflingly hot when he landed in Heraklion International Airport. Mercifully, an air-conditioned coach had been arranged to shuttle him and other tourists to their lodgings for the week. They sped past brown scrubs and fields of olive trees with the sea looming to the left, lapping mutedly under a harsh afternoon sun.

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea as the coach hurtled along. He imagined Alfred beside him, combing warm gentle fingers through his sweat-dampened hair and murmuring comforting endearments.

“You’re going to be alright, babe.”

There was no Alfred, but he did remember to bring his motion sickness medicine. He took them with a swallow of water before leaning back into his seat with a sigh.

-

After booking into his room, Arthur dumped his suitcase, stepped out of the compound, and went over to the corner shop he had spotted on the way in.

The shop was well-shaded inside from the sun and dust. He browsed a few souvenirs on display before collecting a fresh bottle of water, a Cornetto ice cream (mint-flavoured, which had been Alfred’s favourite), and a box of Paracetamol. He had to point at the last item through a glass case so the shop owner could retrieve it from behind the counter.

It took some time for the large-built and rather sleepy-eyed Greek to tot everything up on an old cash register before finally intoning, “8 euros 30 cents.”

A cat leapt onto the counter and stretched atop a stack of newspaper as Arthur peeled a tenner from his wallet and handed it over. “Keep the change,” he said.

He was leaving the shop, pulling the Cornetto out of the bag and gritting the tip in between his teeth, when he happened to glance back.

The Greek youth was picking up the cat and cradling it in the crook of a strong tanned arm.

-

A pleasant sea breeze picked up in the evening, but Arthur was forced to shut the windows against a cloud of mosquitoes.

He had just come out of the shower, the water tasting salty on his skin. Rubbing a towel into his hair, he padded over to the dresser and picked up a box of matches, striking one alight. He lit a few lemon-scented tea lights and spent a few minutes spacing them out around the room as further ward against the mosquitoes.

A tea light was left on the dresser, which sat with a long unflickering flame before a row of pill bottles. Most were painkillers or sleeping pills, but there was also a haphazard collection of cough and cold medicines in blister packs he had dug up from the bathroom cabinet back home. They were all over-the-counter medication he had bought from different drugstores over a period of time.

He took the box of Paracetamol from the corner shop and placed it with the rest. A grim satisfaction settled on his face as he studied the growing pile.

There was also a framed photograph of himself and Alfred leaning on the dresser which had been taken two years ago at the beach. Alfred was handsomely tanned, wearing a white shirt that clung tightly to a soldier’s physique, and his eyes were as blue as the hot Greek summer sky in the backdrop. He had his arm around Arthur as they posed, Arthur standing a little more stiffly but looking just as happy.

He picked up the frame and smiled faintly at the memory of that summer holiday, just before Alfred was dispatched. He gazed longingly at Alfred, wishing he could touch and kiss him and take in his scent – a mixture of fast-food grease and mint chewing gum, and some cheap dreadful deodorant he insisted on using.

“I love you,” Arthur whispered before he could stop himself, a verbal habit resurfacing now that he was back in Greece even though there was no Alfred to reciprocate his love.

-

He was seeing a lot of the young Greek man from the corner shop.

There were the morning visits for bottled waters and mosquito repellent, and lately he even took to dropping by in the afternoons for refreshments. Half a week flew past in this way. Today was a Thursday and, as evening approached, he found the youth working behind an open bar whilst he was out on a walk along the beach.

Their eyes met and lingered with a familiarity, forest into olive green. It was becoming difficult not to acknowledge him properly after all the times they have seen each other.

He went over to the bar and glanced along the row of beer pumps before deciding on one.

“I’ll have a pint, please,” he said, tapping on his choice.

The youth pulled out a fresh glass. “3 euros,” he said as he pulled him a draft.

“Cheers.”

One pint led to six as the sun dipped and extinguished itself in the ocean. A chill stole silently over the beach, and after two whiskeys and an ouzo shot (courtesy of a high-spirited bar owner), Arthur found himself doubled over a gutter at the front retching up his guts.

The vomiting had started with chunks of a half-digested fish dinner before turning into liquid bile. Shivering and heaving wretchedly, he took turns clinging to a man – young, handsome, firm muscles – and pushing him away, unable to make up his mind.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted, his voice hoarse with abuse, as the stranger caught him from tripping onto the pavement and into his own vomit.

“Come with me. We will go somewhere quieter.”

He was half-walked, half-dragged out of the bar and back onto the sand, led away from the thumping, pulsing music and partying undergraduates who were drinking themselves into oblivion.

The sea air breezed over Arthur, drying the perspiration that was sticking his clothes to his skin. His head was clearing and his roiling stomach was beginning to settle. After half a minute’s walk, he felt a lot better. He leaned into the stranger’s arms, trusting him a little more.

After some time, they stopped at a piece of driftwood log and sat down. The world was spinning, and Arthur dropped his head into his hands with a low moan.

“Drink this.”

He was offered a bottle of mineral water, ice cold and dripping with condensation with the cap already twisted off. He accepted it gratefully, rinsing out his mouth of vomit and bile before drinking his fill in big greedy gulps.

“Thanks!” he gasped after he had finished.

The stranger took the bottle from him, capped it, and placed it gently in the sand before him.

A cloud cleared from the moon, and Arthur could finally focus on the stranger’s face. It was none other than the Greek youth from the shop and bar. He was still in his bar uniform, smelling of dish soap water and stale cigarettes. He had on his usual stoic face that was not unfriendly.

“What’s your name?” he asked in a deep but youthful voice, his olive-green eyes taking on a soulful solemnity. Arthur felt his heart skip a beat.

“Arthur,” he said, feeling himself flush. “And yours?” he said hurriedly.

“Herakles.”

Like the demigod, Arthur thought to himself. Or he may have thought it out loud as Herakles cracked a soft rare smile, just for him.

They sat on the log together, staring out at the ocean and the slowly lightening sky, letting the gently lapping waves to fill the silence that had formed comfortably between them.

-

My darling, I am sorry. I do not have the courage. I miss you dreadfully. I love you.

Arthur stared blankly at the words he had written. He was sitting in the balcony of his room and the wind was picking up, causing the corners of his journal’s pages to flap. Sighing, he closed the book and smoothed his hand over the cover.

He had purchased the journal along with a cheap blue Biro for the trip with every intention of writing his will in it. An embarrassing sentiment, in retrospect, considering that he had nothing to his name and hardly anyone that he knew or cared to leave anything to. After a moment, he tossed the journal aside and reached for a tattered paperback. He flipped through the dog-eared pages to get to where he stopped last.

He hadn’t made much headway with the book, but he had every intention of giving a good go of it now that he wasn’t planning on dying anymore.

-

At some point Arthur must have fallen asleep, for the next moment he awoke with a jolt to find that evening had crept up on him.

He jumped up to his feet and stretched, his body stiff from having lain in the deckchair all afternoon. Stifling a yawn, he padded over to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the railing. The wind from the day had died to a gentle caressing breeze and it felt nice on his sunburnt skin.

Down in the courtyard was a lone figure in knee-length khakis and an unbuttoned shirt circling the swimming pool with a stick. On closer inspection, Arthur made out that the stick had a net at the end which the man was dragging across the surface of the pool to fish out any debris. He watched as the man worked, slightly mesmerised by the ripples forming in the water. Slowly, he recognised the man to be Herakles, the shopkeeper slash barman slash (he supposed?) hotel pool cleaner…

Arthur dashed into his room and straight out the door before he could realise what he was doing. He took the stairs two at a time, his sandals slapping loudly on the concrete steps as he clattered down to the ground floor. He almost slipped on the last stair, his arms windmilling wildly and rather comically to any errant observer, but he righted himself at the last moment, and he continued in the direction of the pool.

His heart beat tightly in his chest as he ran.

Herakles was emptying the net of leaves and twigs when Arthur, gasping and perspiring profusely, burst into the courtyard. The young man watched curiously as Arthur rounded the pool and came to a stop in front of him, his hands on his knees as he stood doubled over and panting.

“Last night, I… I…” Arthur gasped out in between frantic gulps of air.

Gradually, as he caught his breath, and Herakles showed every sign of waiting patiently for him, Arthur pushed himself from his knees and stood up straight.

“Thank you,” he said. “Last night, when you listened to me talk- I, uh… want to thank you. I hope I didn’t come across... well.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted… to thank you. Yeah.”

He turned and made to slink away, suddenly overcome with embarrassment – god, the boy was only helping out a drunken old fool! – but Herakles grabbed hold of his arm and held him back.

“You are welcome,” Herakles said haltingly, smiling softly. Then a little more solemnly, “Alfred seemed to be a good man. I am sorry for your loss.”

Arthur felt his lips quiver. He sniffed, trying to stave off the prickling in his eyes, but the tears came unbidden and slid noiselessly down his cheeks. He hadn’t realised it, but it had been a long time since anybody had said Alfred’s name out loud to him.

The silent tears gave way to a low keening that seemed to rise from the very depths. His shoulders began to shake. A small sob bubbled up in his throat. Then, like a dam breaking, he was crying. He dropped to his knees, dropped his face into his palms, and began crying in earnest.

Herakles joined him on the ground, his hand rubbing Arthur’s back gently, reassuringly. It was warm and comforting.

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxvi.j: Son of Salem, then a large sigh ... “God … it feels good to be back. But alright … let’s get this shit over with shall we? See you on the other side … So-” *BOOM* “Don’t say the name” … “Sheesh … whatever “golden boy”, fine.” … He crouches down, puts his hands over my neck, and starts to choke me. He smiles and laughs. I grab his wrists as he blocks my airways in a struggle. Then … out came that long silver tongue … it had to be a foot long … he got closer and closer. Then … He jammed his entire tongue down my throat, I could feel as it wiggled around. I gagged and struggled, I tried to resist … but I couldn’t move. My vision starts to fade in and out of clear and blurry … then it gradually gets darker … and darker … until … it’s pitch black. Once again … Lights out … … …  then I awake in shock and shoot up to a crunch kind of physical expression quick, as if I had awoken from a night terror. I gasp loud and start to cough, spitting up some water. I gather myself in a panic … I reach for my phone again, turn it on, and call this time another number … The Imp … as I had promised, if something bad had happened I’d call her. The phone rings all but twice, then she picks up. “H-hello? It’s really late … are you ok?” M, call this number please, tell them I’m located under the overpass and that I need immediate help … that the drug lord found me and tried to Sewer me, but he failed. I’ve broken both my legs, and I’m bleeding kind of badly here, that I need her to come pick me up and sort me out again. “WHAT!?!?! Ok ok SHIT … ” I can hear her fumble around on the other side of the phone. “OK OK, WHAT’S THE NUMBER!” I tell her the number. “OK I’LL CALL HER IMMEDIATELY SIT TIGHT” The phone hangs up. Then a few minutes pass and she calls again. “Ok! She is on the way.” Got it … thanks, I need to hang up … gonna try and move out of here. “What!? No no stay where you are, so she knows where to look for you.” It’ll be fine, she’ll find me trust me. Thanks again, see you soon I promise, Love you. I hang up the phone. I then try once more to move my legs … and … not gonna happen, they just are in to much pain and broken to much for me to walk on them. I feel an anger like no other boil from deep within, one that was missing for so long, was this Salem’s doing? I lurch over to my side with great pain, and start to crawl with my arms alone, dragging my self through the dirty puddle of water and strong rain. *BOOM* With each and every struggling lunge of my arms *BOOM* I go further and further … all the way … to the top of the canal … I lift myself up and over the side of the wall … flip myself over on the side of the road, to lay on my back in the drainage ditch gasping for air … I was breathless and so tired … one arm stretched across my chest the other across the small grass patch close to the canal wall … I had lost  a lot of blood and exserted so much energy I thought. I was so tired … I passed in and out of consciousness … then I heard a car pull up beside me … then a door opened and then … I heard another familiar voice. “OMG RED, RED ARE YOU OK!? CAN YOU HEAR ME” y-yeah … just help me … please. It was the voice of my Ripper. “OK Ok, god you look terrible, do you have any cuts? any lacerations open wounds?” I pass out. … … … Then I hear, a beeping noise. *Beep* … *Beep* … *Beep* I open my eyes and see … I’m in a hospital. Surrounded by The Imp, The Knight, The Jester, and my grand mother … meine geliebte Oma. They all look in shock. The Imp rushes and pushes the emergency call button to get the doctor. She placed her hand on my arm and said. “It’s ok now! … you’re ok now.”.

01010101 01101110 01100100 01100001 01110101 01101110 01110100 01100101 01100100

[wuzgoodmf245]

Hi guys i’ve lately been trying to make some sort of zombie comic thingy, and i just wrote a draft for it. If you want to read it here it is 🍩🍩🍩 Its really short so if you read it then please give me criticism and stuff like that.

Until Tomorrow

A car drives by an overpass on the edge of Webster City, Iowa. Going. Full. Speed drive. A hand quickly reaches out the window and throws a cigarette bud on the rough asphalt.

The midwest sun is baking up the highway. But theres something about this frame. The other massive family-sized trucks on the road are standing dead still and collecting dust. Stained blood is giving the wildflowers growing in the middle of the road new kinds of patterns. The unknown car disappears into the horizon.

Sunlight is glistening through the tinted car window on the left side of the car. Maren is looking through some supplies in this trashed converse cross-body bag.

“Do you guys remember that can of tuna that we found stashed in the back of that random gas station on road 124? Like when we were passing through Ravenswood in uhh..” Maren looks over at the map. “West Virginia?”

Rafe takes another huff of his cigarette. “No.”

“Yeah, of course we remember that one extraordinary can of tuna. No Maren? What the fuck?” Lip is sitting in the back being kind of pissy because he didn’t say shotgun.

“Oh my god, fucking chill. I can’t help being the one motherfucker around here who actually remembers shit. Anyways this one lost its label and i don’t know how long stuff like this lasts. Do you guys have any idea?”

“Well if the virus broke out like 3 years ago and they stopped doing food deliveries after it-all-went-to-shit then its probably edible until like… 2 years ago.” Rafe scrunches his nose. “I wouldn’t eat that Maren.”

Maren slowly starts opening up the can anyway, and a BAD SMELL starts filling up the truck.

Lip removes the hair from his eyes and puts a sour patch kid into his mouth. “Maren please throw that shit out before i barf out my fucking insides.”

“Dude please, i’m sooo hungry. I don’t even care if it’s rotten.”

Maren takes a big bite but then projectile spits it back out on the cd player, and now Bob Dylans voice is buried beneath the thick layer of rotten canned tuna.

“Nevermind i guess.” Maren wipes her mouth with a old McDonalds napkin. Lip starts laughing hysterically.

“Can we change this music? My fucking ears are bleeding.”

“Lip its not my fault you only like that gay emo shit. Atleast i’m cultured.” Rafe blows smoke out in car. “We need a new wünderbaum by the way.”

“Rafe. Green day is not emo. And its not gay. And you’re the one who literally SCREAMED out Rob Zombie songs the other day when we went through that smelly rednecks truck and found his Cd’s.”

“Yeah, but Rob Zombie is actually good.” Maren says.

[beesmygod]

ever thought about starting to use dip. get a spit bucket. feel the rush. we're not here forever. dump out the bucket on a freeway overpass. become hunted. it's all temporary. might be fun to dip.

deadass thought you meant the roger rabbit substance

[alaskan-wallflower]

A "Kyle being gross" headcanon of mine: he and Stan totally stand on overpasses and try to spit on the cars that drive under. It seems like the kind of dumb young boy thing they'd do to pass the time. They do this as kids and well into their teenage years.

this is honestly probably canon-they throw shit at cars all the time i wouldn’t be shocked if they spat on them too lol

they probably do spitballs too just to piss the drivers off more

[blindbombsbondbillions]

When is it okay to stop caring, or loving?

For some the amount of melatonin drives curiosity for their case or predicament to diminish. For others it could be a gross feeling of spitting or saliva. You can just tell one where your from and they disregard you like a flyer, flying you in a cabinet in their mind. Assuming one knows you from characteristics of smiles or frowns, or even in the interest you show. I say hello, and you blandly stare, how id wish you’d tell me how you feel, but your so numb in faceless expressions. Can I blame you? I wish I was this way, to actively shut down shots from sultry sights or smiles, to say how dare you cross my path to forget you never more. Impoverished in the US are seen as insolent, clueless and uninformed seem ignorant. We build walls for peace of mind, disassociate from these less elevated in our eyes. Then those in others states, like in a shack or with no wealth or food intake, they’d be just to cut us down, from our high horse where we prance around. We were once in a cave just as them. Im here on my computer typing on my bed, when a woman in Iran is probably being abused, or in china a fire being set, or all those gunshots into heads from Ukraine to Mexico. Can you imagine and immigrant going into a Walmart after surviving hail of bullets or rape attempts only to be side eyed judged or viewed as inferior to a pompous piece of shit who’s biggest issue is their dr. Telling them their bloodpreasure is high, or that their ugly, or that no one loves them? Or how they can’t go skiing cause they have to much bills or how their favorite water is out and they need to drink a brand they normally don’t. Should we ever expect any sympathy. You get home tired and your wife says you look so tired. Or if your alone, poor, short, ugly, fat, should you cry to anyone, does anyone care? I see kids disregarded, left with no friends. I was lucky, id run away to symposiums in the middle of the night of Orlando. Was lucky to taste the tendrils of love, although yes those garlands have dried, its sweet scent stays in my mind. Those who rolled all around in the bile with me have gone far. Like blunt objets flung out into orbit to vast unknowns, one things for certain we all forgot we never truly loved at all. A lot of this caring is circumstantial. Seeing a new sight burns and stings, they singe our minds eye. Like a yelow orface of a building wall in a morning light, then a door there open and a mustache man follows with the synergetic throwing of trash, the second day its becoming closer to familiar till its significance dwindles with the noon sun overhead. So is the brandishing light of your sunlit eyes, when you cover them with a gesture of your hands and scrunch up your mug like a mule, then clouds overpass casting shade, my flutters dwindle as a symphonic cascade. How long could this charade go till its elapse becomes an escapade. You sway into the horizon blocking me on all socials even fucking Spotify, your playlist opaque, causing chasms and doldrums across my nervous system. Its though I got up after a minutes shut eye on a sleepless nigh, my body pulling light headed bed head like im high. Then I cross my door to the bath then to the porch and on to the car and ill forget by the time im on the way back I did all that, that I loved at all. And ill see a crack head or a blerigerant ignorant fuck, or and condisend in my mind their positions. Even though it was me for a long time.

[im-a-goat-in-disguise]

here's WALL-E [2008] script. you've been warned.

EXT. SPACE FADE IN: Stars. The upbeat show tune, Put On Your Sunday Clothes, plays. “Out there, there’s a world outside of Yonkers…” More stars. Distant galaxies, constellations, nebulas… A single planet. Drab and brown. Moving towards it. Pushing through its polluted atmosphere. “…Close your eyes and see it glisten…” EXT. PLANET’S SURFACE - CONTINUOUS A range of mountains takes form in the haze. Moving closer. The mountains are piles of TRASH. The entire surface is nothing but waste. “…We’re gonna find adventure in the evening air…” A silhouetted city in the distance. What looks like skyscrapers turns into trash. Thousands of neatly stacked CUBES OF TRASH, stories high. Rows and rows of stacked cubes, like city avenues. They go on for miles. EXT. AVENUE OF TRASH “…Beneath your parasol the world is all a smile…” Something moving on the ground far below. A figure at the foot of a trash heap. A SMALL SERVICE ROBOT diligently cubing trash. Rusted, ancient. Cute. Every inch of him engineered for trash compacting. Mini-shovel hands collect junk. Scoop it into his open chassis. His front plate closes slowly, compressing waste. A faded label on his corroded chest plate: “Waste Allocation Loader - Earth Class” (WALLY) Wally spits out a cube of trash. Stacks it with the others.

Something catches his eye. Tugs on a piece of metal stuck in the stack. A hubcap. The sun reflects off it. Wally checks the sky. ON TRASH HEAP HORIZON The sun sets through the smoggy haze. “…And we won’t come back until we’ve kissed a girl --” He places the hubcap in his compactor. Presses a button on his chest. The song stops playing. The end of a work day. Wally attaches a lunch cooler to his back. Whistles for his pet COCKROACH. The insect hops on his shoulder. They motor down from the top of a GIANT TRASH TOWER. EXT. AVENUES OF TRASH - DUSK Wally travels alone. Traverses miles of desolate waste. Oblivious to roving storms of toxic weather. Passes haunting structures buried within the trash. Buildings, highways, entire cities… Everything branded with the SAME COMPANY LOGO. “Buy N Large” “BNL” stores, restaurants, banks…transportation! The corporation ran every aspect of life. There’s even a BNL LOGO on Wally’s chest plate. CLOSE ON NEWSPAPER Wally drives over. Headline: “TOO MUCH TRASH!! Earth Covered!!” The deck: “BNL CEO Declares Global Emergency!” A photo of the BNL CEO giving a weak smile. Wally’s old treads are threadbare. Practically falling apart. Cause a bumpy ride for his cockroach. He passes the remains of other RUSTED WALL-E UNITS. Fancies one with NEWER TREADS than his own… EXT. DESERTED STREET - MOMENTS LATER Wally now sports the newer treads. Rolls past a SERIES OF HOLOGRAPHIC BILLBOARDS. The solar-powered ads still activate when he passes them.

BILLBOARD ANNOUNCER (V.O.) (Ad #1: BNL logo over trash) Too much garbage in your face? (Ad #2: starliner in space) There’s plenty of space out in space! (Ad #3: starliners take off from Earth) BNL starliners leaving each day. (Ad #4: WALL-E units wave goodbye) We’ll clean up the mess while you’re away. EXT. EDGE OF THE CITY Wally drives down a deserted overpass. Activates an even LARGER HOLOGRAPHIC BILLBOARD. CLOSE ON BILLBOARD AD Shows off a CITY-SIZED LUXURY STARLINER. Depicts passengers enjoying all its amenities. BILLBOARD ANNOUNCER (V.O.) The jewel of the BNL fleet: “The Axiom”. Spend your five year cruise in style. Waited on 24 hours a day by our fully automated crew, while your Captain and Autopilot chart a course for non-stop entertainment, fine dining. And with our all-access hover chairs, even Grandma can join the fun! There’s no need to walk! “The Axiom”. Putting the “star” in Executive Starliner. The BNL CEO appears at the end. Waves goodbye as the Axiom takes off. BUY N LARGE CEO Because, at BNL, space is the final “fun”- tier. The holographic billboard powers off. Reveals the AXIOM’S DESERTED LAUNCHPAD in the distance. The mammoth structure sits across the bay. Now empty and dry. A polluted, dead valley. ON COLLAPSED BRIDGE RAMP Near its edge rests a WALL-E UNIT TRANSPORT TRUCK. A giant child’s Tonka Truck left to weather the elements. A “Buy N Large” logo on its side. Wally approaches the rear of the truck.

Pulls on a lever. The back lowers. Wally motors up the ramp. INT. TRUCK - CONTINUOUS Open racks for storing WALL-Es line both walls. KNICKKNACKS OF FOUND JUNK littered everywhere. The tired robot removes his newfound treads. Ahh… Home. Wally motors down the center aisle. Flicks on an ancient BETAMAX PLAYER. Jury-rigged to an iPod. Pushes in a cassette labeled, “Hello Dolly!” The image is very poor quality. Actors sing and dance to Put On Your Sunday Clothes (POYSC). The same song Wally worked to. WALLY [Hums POYSC] Wally opens his cooler. Newfound knickknacks. Pulls out the hubcap from his chest. Looks back at the TV. Mimics the dancers on the screen. Pretends the hubcap is a hat. Continues to unpack: A spork. A Rubik’s Cube (unsolved). A Zippo Lighter. He presses a BUTTON by the rack of shelves. They rotate until an empty space appears. His new items are lovingly added to the shelf. The Zippo joins a pre-existing LIGHTER COLLECTION. A new song, It Only Takes A Moment, plays on the video. Wally is drawn to it. Presses his “Record” button. ON TV SCREEN Two lovers sing gently to one another. They kiss…hold hands… Wally tilts his head as he watches. Curious. Holds his own hands.

EXT. TRUCK - NIGHT Wally motors outside. Turns over his Igloo cooler to clean it out. Pauses to take in the night sky. STARS struggle to be seen through the polluted haze. Wally presses the “Play” button on his chest. The newly sampled It Only Takes A Moment (IOTAM) plays. The wind picks up. A WARNING LIGHT sounds on Wally’s chest. He looks out into the night. A RAGING SANDSTORM approaches off the bay… Unfazed, Wally heads back in the truck. IOTAM still gently playing. …The massive wave of sand roars closer… Wally raises the door. Pauses. WHISTLES for his cockroach to come inside. The door shuts just as the storm hits. Obliterates everything in view. INT. TRUCK - SAME Wally alone in the center of his shelter. Unwraps a BNL SPONGECAKE (think Twinkie). Lays it out for the cockroach to sleep in. It happily dives in. Wally collapses himself into a storable cube. Backs into an empty shelf space. Rocks it like a cradle… …and shuts down for the night. Outside the wind howls like the Hounds of Hell. INT. WALLY’S TRUCK - NEXT MORNING Wally’s CHARGE METER flashes “WARNING”. He wakes. Unboxes. Groggy and lifeless. Stumbles outside. EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK The morning sun. Wally fully exposed in its light. His front panel splayed out like a tanning shield. A solar collector.

His CHARGE METER chimes full. Solar panels fold away into hiding. Wally, now awake, collects his lunch cooler. Heads off to work. …and accidentally runs over the cockroach. Horrified, Wally reverses. Reveals the FLATTENED INSECT under his tread. The cockroach simply pops back to life. No biggie. Ready to go. Relieved, Wally resumes their commute. EXT. WALLY’S WORK SITE - THAT MORNING A SERIES OF “WALLY AT WORK” MOMENTS:

CU of Wally’s hands digging into garbage. CU of trash being scooped into his chest compactor. A cube lands by the cockroach.

Wally discovers a BRA in the garbage. Unsure what it’s for. Tries placing it over his eyes, like glasses. Tosses it in his cooler.

Wally finds a set of CAR KEYS. Presses the remote lock. Somewhere in the distance a CAR ALARM CHIRPS.

Plays with a paddle ball. The ball keeps smacking him in the face. He doesn’t like it.

Wally discovers a DIAMOND RING in a JEWEL CASE. Throws out the ring. Keeps the case. The jewel case drops into the cooler, then… …A RUBBER DUCKY… …A BOBBLE HEAD DOLL… …An OLD BOOT… …A TROPHY…

Wally finds a FIRE EXTINGUISHER. Activates it. FOAM blasts in his face. It’s tossed far, far away from his cooler.

Wally’s shovel hand strikes something solid. Faces a REFRIGERATOR much larger than himself. Now what?

CU on fridge door. A WELDING BEAM moves down its center. It emits from between Wally’s SPLIT BINOCULAR EYES.

The door falls apart in two pieces. Reveals… …a SMALL PLANT in its early stage of growth. Wally is entranced. Carefully, he extracts the section of earth around it. CLOSE ON IGLOO COOLER Wally gently places the plant inside the old boot. Dusts dirt off the leaves. EXT. TRUCK - DUSK Robot and faithful cockroach return home. Wally stops short of the threshold. Stares at the ground. Continues staring. A RED DOT quivers on the dirt. A single laser point of light. Wally moves to touch it… …The dot races along the ground. Wally drops his Igloo. Chases after the dot. EXT. EMPTY BAY The dot leads Wally deep into the polluted expanse. He is so fixated on it he doesn’t notice MANY LASER POINTS coming from every direction. All racing into the valley over the contour of the terrain. Triangulating towards a center. Wally’s dot suddenly stops. Slowly he reaches for it. Can’t grab it. Just light. ALL THE DOTS converge in front of him. The ground shakes. Wally becomes confused. Doesn’t see above him. The SUN growing brighter behind the cloud cover. A noise. Building.

Rocket engines. Wally senses he should look to the sky. Now THREE SUNS are descending on him. Wally runs for it. An enormous COLUMN OF FIRE blocks his path. A second column of fire. A third. Trapped. Wally cubes the ground beneath him. Working fast. Noise deafening. Heat rising. Digs in just as a tide of flame carpets the ground… …Then suddenly quiet. Smoke clears. CLOSE ON THE SCORCHED EARTH Wally’s head rises out of the dirt. Glows red hot from the heat. Trembles with fright. Everything in shadow. Something very big looms over him. Wally climbs out of his hole. Bangs his head on metal. WIDE on a massive SPACESHIP. Rests ominously in the empty bay. A PORTAL on its underside opens. Frightened, Wally tries to hide. Nowhere to go. He places a SMALL ROCK on his head. Boxes up. A DEVICE lowers to the ground on a long stem. Scans the surface. Wally creeps closer for a better look. The device unfolds. Wally boxes up again. A CAPSULE descends from a chute in the stem. ROBOT ARMS emerge from the device. Place the capsule on the ground. Press buttons. The capsule falls away in sections, to reveal… …a PROBE ROBOT. It hovers gracefully above the ground. White. Egg-shaped.

Blue-lit eyes. Female. Eve. Wally is transfixed. Inches closer. Watches Eve from behind the device. Tilts his head. Time stops. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Eve hovers over the ground. A BLUE RAY emits from her front panel. Fans out 180 degrees. Scans random objects and areas. The device rises back into the ship. Exposes Wally. He rushes for cover behind the nearest rock. Never takes his eyes off Eve. Watches her float away from the ship. …from the ship? The ship! Engines roar back to life. Wally digging furiously. The rocket takes off. Smoke clears. Again, a red hot Wally peeks out from the ground. Looks for Eve. She is watching the ship rise into the clouds. Waits until it is completely out of sight… …then Eve rises high up into the air. She flies around the bay. Soars like a graceful bird. Does loops in the sky. Zooms right past Wally’s rock. He is hypnotized. Eve descends gently to the ground… Wally sneaks up closer. Hides behind another boulder. Slips. Makes a NOISE. Instantly, Eve whips around. Her arm converts into a LASER CANNON. Blasts Wally’s boulder to smithereens. …Smoke clears…All quiet. Eve, now cold and dangerous.

Scans the area. No sign of life. All business again. Hovers away to probe more of the planet. ON OTHER SIDE OF BOULDER CRATER Wally boxed up behind what little remains of the rock. Trembles uncontrollably. EXT. AVENUE OF TRASH - DAY Eve wanders through the pillars of cubed trash. Scans random areas. Wally spies from the shadows. Too frightened to approach. She moves on. He follows. EXT. TIRE DUMP - DAY Eve probes a mound of tires. Wally hiding nearby. He flinches at the sight of HIS COCKROACH innocently approaching Eve from behind. She spins around. Blasts the insect. Wally is gut-punched. The cockroach climbs out of the smoking crater. Unscathed. Still curious. Eve finds the insect intriguing. Lowers her arm. The end separates into individual hovering sections… …A HAND. She lets the insect crawl up her arm. Wiggles into her workings. It tickles. EVE [Giggles] Wally relaxes. CHUCKLES privately. Eve sonically picks up Wally’s location. Locks onto him.

Arm converts to laser cannon. Fires rapidly. Quick glimpses of Wally dodging the blasts. Trash piles are systematically obliterated around him. Wally now exposed. Nowhere to hide. Boxes himself up. Shakes uncontrollably. Eve holds her fire. EVE (electronic hums) [Identify yourself.] She slowly approaches Wally’s box. Keeps her gun trained on him. EVE (electronic hums) [Repeat. Identify yourself.] Wally peeks out from his box. Doesn’t understand a thing she says. Doesn’t care. Can’t believe she’s real. The cockroach climbs down her gun arm. Jumps onto his master. Eve scans Wally. A RED LIGHT appears on her chest. Buzzes “negative”. He’s not what she’s looking for. She retracts her gun arm. Hovers off. Wally watches her go. Lovestruck. WALLY [Sigh.] DISSOLVE TO: INT. ABANDONED BNL SUPERSTORE - NEXT DAY LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S “LA VIE EN ROSE” PLAYS Eve scans through the market. Wally follows from a safe distance. A stray puppy-dog. Eve glances over at him. Wally panics. Bumps into a RACK OF SHOPPING CARTS. Creates an avalanche.

They chase him down a flight of stairs. Wally reaches the exit doors. Won’t open! Carts pig pile on top of him. EXT. BNL REFINERY - NIGHT Wally perched on the roof. Patiently watches Eve fly. She scans the ground below her, like a searchlight. Eve comes in for a landing below. Shuts down for the night. Wally waits. Quietly sneaks down the refinery fire escape. Accidentally trips. Tumbles to the ground. Eve doesn’t wake. Wally creeps up to her. Opens his arms wide… …and measures her. Turns to a pile of trash. Splits open his eyes. Begins welding something… DISSOLVE TO: EXT. BNL REFINERY - NEXT MORNING Eve powers up again. Does a double take. A TRASH SCULPTURE OF EVE stands in front of her. She hovers away, unimpressed. Doesn’t notice Wally hiding behind a PILE OF PIPES. Wally kicks the pipes in frustration. They roll on top of him. SONG ENDS MONTAGE OF EVE SEARCHING

Scans a car engine. Negative. Slams the hood shut.

Scans a Port-A-Potty. Negative. Slams the door shut.

Scans an Apollo capsule. Negative. Slams the hatch shut.

Scans a FREIGHTER HOLD. Negative. Slams the lid shut.

EXT. DERELICT SHIPYARD - DUSK Eve hovers over the freighter. Frustrated. Not finding what she’s looking for. Wally eavesdrops from afar. Eve flies past the ship’s CRANE MAGNET. Gets stuck. Wrestles to free herself. Furious, she BLOWS UP THE ENTIRE SHIP. The reaction startles Wally. Eve slumps down against a dredged anchor. She gives up. Concerned, Wally cautiously approaches. Sits at the other end of the anchor. Both robots stare silently at the fiery wreck. Then… …slowly, very slowly, Wally inches towards her. Musters the courage to speak, when -- She suddenly turns to him: EVE (hums) [So what’s your story?] Wally falls backwards with surprise. Me? Eve scrolls through a variety of languages: EVE (German) [Directive?] (Japanese) [Directive?] WALLY [Huh?] EVE (Swahili) [Directive?] (English) Directive? WALLY (beeps) [Oh, I understand that!]

EVE Directive? Wally eagerly turns to some nearby trash. Scoops it into his compactor. Proudly spits out a cube. Points to Eve. WALLY (struggles to speak) Di…rec…t-- EVE Directive? Wally nods. EVE Classified. WALLY (beeps) [Oh. Sorry.] She scans his CHEST LOGO. EVE Name? WALLY (struggles again) W-wally? …Wally. EVE (smooth; almost perfect) Wwww-aaaa-leee… Wally nearly melts. She says his name so beautifully. Moves closer. EVE Wally. (giggles) Eve. Wally tries to repeat it: WALLY Eeee…? EVE (slower) Eve.

WALLY Eeeaaah? EVE Eeeve. Eeeve. WALLY Eee--vah! She giggles again. Wally likes making her giggle. WALLY Eee-vah! Ee -- EVE Eve. The wind kicks up. The WARNING LIGHT sounds on Wally’s chest. He moves to grab her. WALLY (Gasp!) Eee-vah! EVE (hums) [Hey watch it! Don’t come any closer!] She draws her gun on him. Doesn’t understand the danger. The sandstorm rushes up behind her. Too late. Wally collapses into a box. The storm hits full force. Eve is instantly lost, disoriented. EVE Wally? Wally? WALLY’S HAND appears out of the dust. Calmly takes Eve’s hand. INT. TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER The back door lowers. A rush of wind and sand. Wally pulls Eve inside. Closes the door. She coughs up dust. Wally hits a switch… Strings of CHRISTMAS LIGHTS fill the space. His racks of oddities painted in colored light.

An air of enchantment. Eve is taken aback. WALLY (beeps) [Come on in.] She drifts through the sea of knickknacks. Becomes spooked by a SINGING BILLY BASS FISH. Threatens to shoot it, but Wally calms her down. He is compelled to show her everything. Hands her an eggbeater… …bubble wrap (so infectious to pop)… …a lightbulb (lights when she holds it)… …the Rubik’s Cube (she solves it immediately)… …his Hello Dolly tape. Curious, she begins unspooling the tape. WALLY (loud beeps) [My tape!!] He grabs it back. Protective. Inserts it carefully into the VCR. Please still work. The movie eventually appears on the TV. Plays a clip of POYSC. Wally is relieved. WALLY (beeps) [What do you think?] Mimics the dancing for Eve. Encourages her to try. She clumsily hops up and down. Makes dents in the floor. Rattles everything. Wally politely stops her. WALLY (beeps) [How ‘bout we try a different move?] Spins in a circle. Arms out. Eve copies. Spins faster, and faster… Too fast. Accidentally strikes Wally. He flies into the shelves. Eve helps him up from the mess. Wally’s LEFT BINOCULAR EYE falls off. Dangles from two wires. Eve GASPS with concern. Wally placates her.

WALLY (beeps) [It’s fine.] Feels his way to the rack of shelves. Rotates them until… …SPARE WALL-E PARTS appear. Replaces his broken eye with a new one. Eve is relieved. She eyes his LIGHTER COLLECTION. Flicks open a Zippo. Ignites a FLAME. Wally freezes. He had no idea it could do that. Moves closer to inspect it… ON WALLY It’s the closest he’s ever been to Eve. She remains focused on the lighter. Wally stares up at her. …The tiny flame flickering between them… …The Hello Dolly video plays IOTAM in the background… Suddenly, he is moved to express his love. Musters the courage to open his fingers… …Timidly reaches his hand out to hers… -- Eve turns and looks at him. Wally instantly chokes. Pulls his hand back. Eve becomes intrigued with the TV. Scans the image of the lovers singing IOTAM… Wally watches her. His infatuation still palpable. Then he remembers… WALLY Ee-vah! He rushes to his shelves. Eve watches him rummage through junk. A drum falls down on his head. She giggles, charmed by it all. Something about Wally… She is drawn back to the lovers on TV… …then the lit Zippo lighter in her hand. A tap on her shoulder. She turns to find Wally holding something. The plant. Eve immediately locks onto it.

Drops the lighter. In a flash… …her chest opens… …a TRACTOR BEAM snatches the plant away… …stores it inside her… Then she shuts down completely. Only a SINGLE GREEN LIGHT pulsing on her chest. Wally is stunned. What’d I do? Waves his hand in front of her face. WALLY Ee-vah? Knocks on her chest plate. No response. Wally panics. Gently shakes her. WALLY Ee-vah? Still no response. WALLY Ee-vah? …Ee-vah?! CAMERA MOVES IN on the blinking green light… DISSOLVE TO: EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK - DAY The morning sun. Wally places Eve in his charging spot. Aims her hovering form to face the sun. Waits. MONTAGE OF WALLY TRYING TO REVIVE EVE:

Several hot days pass with Wally holding vigil in the heat.

A THUNDERSTORM approaches on the horizon. Wally holds an UMBRELLA over Eve. Gets struck by lightning. Holds up another umbrella. Gets struck again.

A SANDSTORM blows through. Wally pops out of a dune on the truck’s roof. Lifts up an UPSIDE-DOWN BARREL that protected Eve.

Wally pries open a panel on Eve’s chest. Reveals her pulsing BLUE HEART-BATTERY. Attaches JUMPER CABLES to his own HEART-BATTERY. Tries to connect the other end to hers. An automatic defense system blows him off truck.

Wally & cockroach take Eve for a walk. Pull her along on a LEASH OF CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.

Wally gives Eve a boat ride on a LAKE OF SLUDGE. Uses an industrial tire as a boat. Rows like a gondolier with a road sign.

Wally sits by the empty bay with Eve. Watches the SUNSET. Burns “WALL-E + EVE” on a public trash can. Tries to pull out her hand to hold it. It snaps back into place, trapping his hand.

END OF MONTAGE EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK - NIGHT Wally has set up the TV on the roof. The blank Eve floating next to him. Tries unsuccessfully to play PONG with her. Still no response. Finally, he gives up. WALLY [defeated sigh] EXT. TRUCK - NEXT MORNING Wally loads up his cooler. Checks on Eve one more time. Still nothing… Heads off to work, defeated. EXT. WORK SITE - LATER Wally simply going through the motions. No spirit in him at all. Stops. Pulls out the Zippo lighter. Flicks it a few times. A RUSH OF WIND blows out the flame. Distant rumbling. Wally looks in the direction of his home. A BRIGHT GLOW is lowering down through the clouds.

WALLY (beeps) [Oh no.] EXT. TRASH ALLEY - DAY Wally racing as fast as he can. The cockroach clings onto him for dear life. EXT. TRUCK - DAY The RECON SPACESHIP towers over his truck. A ROBOT ARM cherry-picks Eve from the roof. Lifts her up and into the ship’s cargo hold. Wally racing in the distance. WALLY EE-VAH!! EE-VAH!! Reaches the end of the collapsed bridge ramp. Forced to watch Eve disappear into the ship. The cargo doors slam shut. The first of the THREE ROCKET ENGINES powers up. Wally heads down a hill of rubble to the ship. Notices his cockroach tagging along behind him. Leads it back to the top of the hill. WALLY (beeps) [Stay.] The insect mopes. Droops its little antennae. Wally motors back down to the rocket… BASE OF RECON SHIP The engines blast a WALL OF SMOKE. Preparation for launch… INT. RECON SHIP Eve is secured into a slot. Joins a ROW OF OTHER EVE PROBES. All dormant. Only Eve flashes a GREEN LIGHT. The CAMERA DRIFTS BACK out a window… OUTSIDE THE SHIP

…where Wally steadily climbs up the side. The ship’s engines ignite. Wally clamps his hands tight to a metal support. The rocket takes off into space. EXT. TOP OF HILL The cockroach watches his master go. EXT. RECON SHIP The spaceship roars through the sky. Wally tightens his grip, battling the G’s. He looks ahead. SCREAMS. HUNDREDS OF BNL SATELLITES litter the outer atmosphere. The ship bursts through the layer. EXT. SPACE - CONTINUOUS The recon ship breaks free of the planet. Its boosters shut down. Wally takes in the sudden QUIETNESS OF SPACE. Looks back at his planet. WALLY Oooh… Weightlessness takes effect. Wally almost floats away. Grabs hold of the ship. Knocks on a WINDOW near Eve. WALLY E-vah! No response. She remains shut down. Wally points out at the stars. It is the most spectacular light show possible. And Wally has a front row seat.

MONTAGE OF CELESTIAL SPECTACLES

The ship flies past the MOON. A BILLBOARD stands next to the abandoned APOLLO MOON ROVER. “BNL Outlet Coming Soon.”

The ship passes by the SUN. Wally pops open his solar panels. 21. Instantly recharges.

The ship cruises alongside SATURN’S OUTER RINGS. Wally runs his hand through the tiny particles of ice.

DISSOLVE TO: EXT. RECON SHIP - DAYS LATER

A DUMBBELL NEBULA slowly twists in space. Wally is mesmerized by it. Leads his eye to a LIGHT, growing in the distance ahead. A planet? No. A starliner. Gigantic in size. The “AXIOM”. The now tiny recon ship heads straight for it. INT. DOCKING BAY TWO TUG-ROCKETS guide the ship in. It locks into GIANT BRACES fixed on the deck. The impact knocks Wally off. He lands in the scaffolding of the front brace. Suddenly the entire dock comes to life. Robotic arms and service robots of all types appear. …Rise from the floor… ..Lower from the ceiling… It’s a cacophony of automation. They all attend to the ship. EVE and four other probes slide out of the ship’s side. Suspended in a horizontal rack. Wally is surprised to find her facing him. She remains shut down. Just a few feet away with a giant abyss between them. WALLY Ee-vah… ? A SQUAD OF CLEANER ROBOTS emerge onto the dock. A small roller BRUSH-BOT (M-O) leads. M-O (beeps) [Hold up.]

Waits for the FLOOR LINES to appear. Depict their exact path of action. M-O (beeps) [Okay. Go.] They file out on the line. A crane-bot lowers Eve from the rack. M-O and his cleaning crew stand ready. M-O scans Eve. ON M-O’S DISPLAY POV Scan reads: “%16 Foreign Contaminant.” M-O is disgusted. Revs his brush roller. Moves in for the clean. A VACU-BOT follows after him. Then a SPRAY-BOT and BUFFER-BOT finish off. The cleaning crew waits for probe #2. Wally studies the routine. Figures out a way to climb down to Eve. When the crane returns, Wally poses as probe #3. The crane grabs him instead. M-O turns around to clean the next probe. Wally is lowered in front of him. Boxes up. Confused, M-O scans him. ON M-O’S DISPLAY POV Scan reads: “%100 Foreign Contaminant.” M-O is horrified by such filth. A RED SIREN LIGHT rises from his head. M-O [Oh, no, no, no. This is all wrong.] He scrubs Wally full force. Wally’s front panel pushes him away. Confused, M-O moves to clean him again. Wally backs away. Leaves a DIRT TRAIL. M-O curses: M-O [You made the floor all dirty! Stop it!]

M-O furiously scrubs the floor. Wally peeks out, amused by this neurotic little guy. ON FAR WALL Two STEWARD ROBOTS come out of the wall. Act like hovering caution signs. A small robot (GOPHER) shoots out a PNEUMATIC TUBE. He bears epaulet like shoulders and a siren for a face. Gopher beeps an ELECTRONIC ORDER for the Stewards to follow. BACK ON M-O AND WALLY M-O just finishes cleaning the floor. Wally is fascinated. Impishly makes another mark. M-O compulsively cleans it. Can’t resist. M-O [Look, it stays clean. You got that?] Wally wipes the bottom of his tread on M-O’s face. M-O loses it. Scrubs his own face. Gopher and his steward escort arrive. The cleaning crew stand at attention. Wally boxes back up with the probes. Gopher begins scanning each probe. Moves down the line. Scans Wally…moves on to the next probe… Stops -- Wait a minute. Turns back. Wally is gone. Gopher shrugs it off. Proceeds… Reaches Eve. Doesn’t notice Wally hidden behind her. Gopher scans her BLINKING PLANT LIGHT -- The entire dock goes to “Code Green”! Alarms sound. Green lights flash. All automation stops. In rapid succession… …A HOVER-TRANSPORT glides up to Gopher… …A crane-bot loads Eve… …Curved energy bands lock her down… …Gopher assumes the driver’s seat… It’s all moving too fast for Wally. Suddenly Eve’s transport heads for the ELEVATOR.

[spendingtimewiththeboys]

I told myself I'd stop throwing things from the overpass There's a cage there Yeah, I still spit from it I can throw little plastic ketchup packages I want to break it, throw a brick I'm angry, full of shit I'm too stupid She keeps telling me to wash my hands before we fuck We're both hideous Should I tell her?

[lauvra]

Sharing the inner workings of my mind feels worse than it ever did, same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was, I'm more apprehensive than ever and more lost than ever and actually I'm writing this section after having already typed the rest but now remembering I wrote a note in my phone between dreams that might explain my state better than anything. She found insanity had hands, their touch turned reality elastic. Each time the nail traced what appeared the furthest reaches of the imagination, the page lengthened. I've been awake for a couple hours now and it's 6:39AM. When I consider my sleep, I see crusted asphalt beneath a yellow-lit overpass. My dreams were all broken. Penny crawled up to sleep curled against me, I think I've been awake since then. I'm taking notes on my current thought-webs and behaviour patterns so at least this entire experience wasn't all for nought. I can see how slowly agoraphobia grows on people, crusts their eyes, mouth and mind closed. I see too how we become trapped in vengeful ideas, that of; 'if so and so hadn't done X then Y wouldn't have ensued, and I wouldn't have found myself Z', a cyclical mentality that keeps us from taking reign over the 'now' of it all. It's the righteous indignation of things, we want to be right all the way down to the bone and we can search for the data, find it, then re-code every roadblock that tells us any different but what solace is thinking we're the ultimate victim anyway? Why is that so tempting? I guess, if we can convince ourselves the entire system is rigged against us, we release guilt about our deeds, misdeeds, apprehensive silences as well as all the times we spoke plainly with our knee-joints protruding from our mouths, then I guess there's no way to win and no point in doing anything; it's almost a solace, but it's completely disempowering. It's obvious I just want someone to spit in my face and tell me what to say. As well as that fun little defect; the anti-people feeling -- and clearly part and parcel -- the paranoia I experience has spiked, extending to areas I earnestly didn't think it would. It feels naive that I thought any area of my life would stay safe from me. There are things I want to believe about the world, about people and human dynamics that simply have never proven true in my eyes, and it's always disappointing. I'm losing sleep over not trusting anybody, no matter their role in my life, and losing sleep over thoughts like 'if I had any idea what my life would look like now, I would have made completely different decisions here and here and here' and honestly, I think I do need to say that out loud to the world before I can move on because it plagues my mind, I have major regrets and the worst thing is once examined, they're shattered because I couldn't have ever done anything any differently. This is where I pull myself up and write a gratitude list, I'm still devastated by where I am now, and angry at myself ultimately, because it feels like no one who has met me has met my best aspects and they're disappearing. Sometimes people online seem to really think they do understand, then they say shit that makes feel lonelier than fucking ever. Like they probably legitimately think I wouldn't tear out their god damn eyes if they spat on my face.

[schizopostingvent]

you ever think about how theres always a set of stores under or near those overpasses as if to take advantage of drivers who fear going over them? <you are not spitting>

[largethingslargerthings]

MEDITATIVE WEEK OF POETRY: KRISTIN ROBERTSON

I never planned to track down every person I ever kissed, but after I win the lottery and stumble into Collier, my junior prom date, on the metro in Madrid, it becomes my thing. I gather souvenirs. From Collier a paper fan with Picasso’s Guernica accordioned inside it: the bull, the flames, the women screaming. Collier’s friend Leland (may he rest) sleepwalked upstairs during a housefire, so I drive to the field where we traded spit only once. I liked breathing his name Leland in the baseball diamond, my hands field-chalked into snowy owls, so I funnel the marking powder into a vial of coke on Becca’s keychain. Becca also a one-off, a make- shift porch party, my boyfriend busy under some overpass spray-painting Nightwatchman. When I find him in Cabbagetown he apologizes for the abortions, both of them, twenty years like yesterday, asks to bum money for Newports. I unfold what I have on me into green wings. When he fumbles his lighter I slip it into my jeans, the fifth pocket, otherwise useless. They weren’t all like this. Some I loved: Jamie Webb in third grade who died looking up. In a lightning storm, he gripped the tent pole. His mother writes coordinates along the tendons of my wrist. When I follow them to an outlet mall, I cry and buy a pretzel. I wash my ventral tendon like a ventral fin, and I do swim out to an offshore oil rig where I reunite with the heroin dealer I loved for six years. Mike offers a tar ball, names the shells I collected on my swim Grace and Grace and Grace, just like his cats. Brian was allergic, but he slept on the floor of my hospital room for ten nights and married me. He had nothing else to give beyond divorce papers and seventeen crystal flutes I smashed for glitter the Halloween I ended up at the Clermont Lounge and fell in love for an hour with a stripper. Chandra worked the unlit end of a match into her nipple. Between songs, she explained Chandra means moon in Sanskrit, as in chandrasana, half the moon. We meet for tea. She doesn’t remember me, of course, but she pretends. I slide an envelope of my windfall up the stripper’s thigh, and Chandra says, Don’t go turning what I give you as a souvenir into a bird. Only it is a bird, a stolen cassowary from the Atlanta Zoo. I walk it twelve blocks to the subway, cradle its oceanic neck and vestigial spike in my lap, along with the lit match, the glitter, the Graces. The latitudes and lightning, the owl vials and housefires, the bulls and screams. All the diamonds. It might be used to attract a mate, he says, the man next to me, as he traces the cassowary’s crest. But no one knows for sure. From his small backpack, the bird’s favorite: a fallen plum eaten whole.