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voltrontranscript · 4 years ago

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VForce E1: New School Defenders

Episode 1: New School Defenders

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: We meet Daniel, a young Voltron fan after the Voltron Force is decommissioned, as he recounts the glory of Voltron and joins the Galaxy Alliance flight school, where he meets former pilots Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. But the Voltron Force doesn’t simply toe the line drawn by Sky Marshal Wade, and with Daniel and Vince’s help, they retrieve their lion keys.

[Google Doc]

Boy: Come on, Daniel, I dare you to do it.

Girl: Double dare you!

Boy: Do it!

Daniel: When are you guys gonna learn? It’s not a dare if I wanna do it.

[Cut between Daniel and Voltron as they chase the robeast, then return to Daniel.]

Daniel: You guys missed it! The lions just formed Voltron! Someday, that’s gonna be me. I’m gonna pilot the Black Lion.

Boy: Huh. You wish.

[Transition to Daniel’s bedroom, where Daniel narrates to the audience.]

Daniel: Yeah, I do wish. Unfortunately, it looks like that’s all it’ll ever be, now. Just a wish.

[Transition to a flashback of Planet Doom.]

Daniel: Not long after the Voltron Force wrecked shop on that robeast, they defeated Lotor and his Drule army. It was epic!

Lotor: What?

[Cut to a flash forward, where the Voltron Force celebrates their victory with the city.]

Daniel: I even got to go to the galaxy victory celebration. It was the greatest day of my life! Until… It was a disaster, but no one was hurt. That’s why I couldn’t believe how quickly everyone forgot all the good Voltron had done, as if they’d been brainwashed. The Defender of the Universe was declared a hazardous threat and decommissioned without even attempting to fix it. How shady is that? My dreams, gone. Now the only thing that excites me is going fast, really fast. So, I enrolled in the Galaxy Alliance flight academy, where things have turned out to be slow. Really slow. When’s life gonna pick up some speed? Of course, if all that wasn’t about to change, I wouldn’t be here telling you this story.

[Transition to opening sequence, with an electric guitar playing under the following lyrics.]

Woo!

One, two, three four!

Voltron’s here, kicking down your door!

Five, six, get with it.

We blaze ‘em with the sword and they can’t get away.

Seven, eight.

We’re bringing down the hurt so we’re here to stay.

Nine, ten, we here to win.

Voltron’s here, let the games begin!

Oh! (Let’s Voltron!)

Form up, let’s go!

All night! Let’s go!

Alright, we gonna rock (rock!) and roll (roll!)

Now to rock (rock!) and roll (roll!)

Oh!

[Transition to Daniel in class at the flight academy.]

Professor: ...and so the Galaxy Alliance Fractal Fighter has been Earth’s primary strike and defense weapon since… which battle, cadet Daniel?

Daniel: Huh? Um, the battle at Gemini Four?

Computer: Correct.

Professor: Commander Lance. To what do we owe the honor of a visit from the youngest head flight instructor in academy history?

Lance: I realized it was nearly the end of the first term, and I have yet to greet our first-year cadets. I wanted to get a look at the faces I’ll be seeing when they get into the cockpit in their third year.

Daniel: Ugh, third year.

Lance: So, do any of you potential pilots have any questions for me? Yes, cadet?

Daniel: Sir, with all due respect, why are you here teaching instead of defending the universe? What really happened with Voltron?

Professor: Daniel! You know mention of Voltron is forbidden by Sky Marshal Wade! There are severe consequences for violating this order. Commander Lance, I’m so sorry for--

Lance: It’s alright. I’ll speak of this once and only once. Yes, I used to be the pilot of the red Voltron lion, but after the incident, that’s something I’ve put in the past. Myself, along with tech sergeants Hunk and Pidge--formerly the yellow and green lions--are now loyal soldiers in the service of the Galaxy Alliance military. And Princess Allura, the former blue lion, is ruling on her home planet of Arus.

Daniel: What about the leader of Voltron? The black lion pilot, Commander Keith?

Lance: Ex-commander Keith is a wanted fugitive, and nobody knows his whereabouts.

[Scene change to Keith wearing shades on a beach.]

Manset: So, Commander Keith, I hear you are interested in the location of Wade’s secret base.

Keith: Your hearing is good.

Manset: Why are you seeking this base? Are you looking for trouble?

Keith: I’m looking for something Wade has that doesn’t belong to him, which may lead to trouble, but that doesn’t concern you. I paid you good money for that location, so--

Manset: Yes, well, unfortunately, some people are willing to pay more for your location. Please, do not make a big scene.

Keith: The size of the scene is up to you.

[Cut back to Daniel’s classroom.]

Daniel: How could you and the rest of the team just turn your backs on Commander Keith and Voltron?

Lance: Defending the universe is our top priority, and that’s exactly what the Galaxy Alliance is doing! Voltron was just a vehicle.

Daniel: Just a vehicle?

Lance: That’s enough. You, up. You’re coming with me. You, too.

Vince: Me? W-what’d I do?

Lance: Guilt by association.

[Cut back to Keith on the beach.]

Keith: So, this is how it’s gonna be.

Manset: At least I returned your money. You can count it. It’s all there.

Keith: Yeah, I’ll get right on that.

Masked Guard 1: Ah!

Masked Guard 2: Whoa.

Manset: A sword? Really?

Keith: It’s a weapon of honor. You wouldn’t understand.

[Cut to Lance, Vince, and Daniel entering an office.]

Wade: I assure you all, this supposed rising Drule threat is nothing but rumors to stir the masses.

Coran: But, Sky Marshal Wade, our sources have intercepted increased chatter about this mysterious commander Kala, specifically mentioning Lotor.

Wade: Lotor is dead! Furthermore, Ambassador Coran, if your sources happen to be “The Den”, you’d better think twice before quoting their intelligence to me considering they’re viewed as rebels against the Galaxy Alliance. You continually test my patience, honorable gentleman from Arus. Tread lightly. Good day. Commander Lance, these must be the cadets you called me about?

Lance: Yes, sir.

Wade: Normally I don’t like to concern myself with petty academy matters, but I take my “no Voltron” policy very seriously.

Daniel: Sir, I take full responsibility. He doesn’t belong here. I hardly know him, and he--

Wade: Do not speak, cadet, and don’t play that sickening nobility card, either. It’s a liability in combat. I need an army of obedient, ruthless, fighting machines, not some saps who are going to hesitate to consult their moral compass! Of course, this won’t be a problem for you if you violate my policy again, because a second offense would mean expulsion. However, this being your first, you are receiving the automatic sentence: latrine duty for the rest of the first term, and all of the second term, as well. I hope this teaches you to scrub Voltron from your lives completely.

Lance: I’m sure this experience will give them an entirely different perspective on Voltron, sir.

Daniel: It already has.

[Scene change to the latrines.]

Daniel: Man, I am so sorry I got you into this… mess.

Vince: Hey, you just said what I was thinking. I’m more of the non-confrontational type.

Daniel: Yeah, speaking of “type”, I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping me in class. How did you do, uh, that?

Vince: A tech-gician never reveals his tricks.

Daniel: Huh, you’re an interesting guy, um… I don’t even know your--

Vince: It’s Vince. Should I pretend I don’t know your name’s Daniel to make this less awkward for you?

Daniel: Probably. Well, I definitely owe you one, Vince.

Vince: Ah, don’t worry about it. You can just save my life sometime.

Daniel: So, Vince, what do you think of this place so far?

Vince: You mean, besides the life sentence of latrine duty, and the fact that one of our heroes turned out to be a total snart?

Daniel: Yeah, and then there’s this. I came here to fly jets, and all first-years do are stupid simulators.

Vince: Actually, I like the simulators. All the fun of flying, with none of the death.

Daniel: Unlocked?

Vince: You wanna…

Daniel: Totally.

Vince: Wait, I thought you didn’t like the simulators.

Daniel: I don’t, at least not when we’re supposed to be in them. But now, we’re like Commander Keith, rebel outlaws, operating in the shadows.

[Cut to space, where a single fighter cruises across the screen.]

Keith: I can’t believe Manset was a traitor. He was thoroughly vetted by the Den. And why’d he return my money? It just doesn’t make sense… Says the guy talking to a space mouse. Huh? The coordinates to Wade’s base? “It’s all there.” This is Stalker calling the Den. The watering hole has been located. I’m going hunting. Set course for the Tarvos moon of Saturn.

[Cut to the flight simulators in the Galaxy Alliance academy.]

Daniel: See? These simulators are way too easy. I’m ready to try this stuff pulling twelve G’s.

Vince: Alright, Whiny McGee. You want me to make this interesting for you?

Daniel: Whoa! I thought you were non-confrontational!

Vince: I am, in real life. Well, would you look here? It seems the simulator wants to feel more hurt.

Daniel: Easy pickings.

Lance: What? Can’t you boys keep up?

Daniel: Commander Lance?

Lance: You just want to get expelled, don’t you? Considering this is most likely your last act as GA cadets, let’s see what you’re made of. Hope your straps are on tight.

Daniel: Why? It’s not like these simulators are going to rocket off--woah! Whoo-hoo! Yeah!

Lance: You might want to pull your emergency brake right… now.

Vince: Y-your simulator almost killed me!

Lance: Huh, and Voltron contraband to boot. Wade would throw you in a secret holding cell to rot. Lucky for you, I’m not Wade. Boys, welcome to…

Pidge: The Den.

Lance: Cadets, I’d like you to meet--

Vince: You’re Pidge!

Daniel: The Green Lion pilot! That’s Hunk, the yellow lion!

Pidge: What are you doing? You’re not even welding anything.

Hunk: Yeah, but I wanted to make a cool entrance for these little dudes.

Lance: Mission accomplished.

Daniel: Is Keith here, too?

Lance: Always with the Keith.

[Transition to Keith breaking into a building, then back to the Den.]

Pidge: Why would you draw glasses on top of my glasses?

Daniel: Um, six eyes? I don’t know, I’m not an artist.

Hunk: Well, I’d better get back to duty, but I look forward to working with you clowns in the future.

Daniel: Huh?

Vince: Huh?

Lance: We need to keep up appearances. We’ve been pretending to be the epitome of a good soldier and loyal to Sky Marshal Wade so that he never suspects our underground activities. Pidge and Hunk have built this secret network that has access to Wade’s GA resources.

Pidge: It’s been quite useful in helping Keith on his secret mission.

Daniel: What kind of secret mission?

Lance: The kind that’s a secret.

Daniel: Okay, fine, but you still haven’t explained why we’re here. What does any of this have to do with us?

Lance: Let’s just say your talents have been noticed, and we’d like to cultivate them. In fact, how would you like to take a very cultivating course right now, taught by yours truly?

Vince: Totally! What’s the course?

Lance: Toilet Scrubbing 101. Oh, you’re right, you already have a bit of experience. We’ll call it 102.

[Cut to Keith continuing to infiltrate the building.]

Keith: Great.

Guard: All clear.

[Cut back to the Den.]

Daniel: Okay, we can tell there’s something cool going on here, but if it involves cleaning more toilets…

Lance: Look, I’m going to be asking you to do a lot of things in the future that won’t seem to make sense, but there will always be a reason. The question is, after what you’ve seen, do you trust me?

Daniel: I think so, but why won’t you just give us a straight answer about anything?

Lance: Partially because you aren’t ready to know, but mostly because it’s way more fun for me this way. So I’ll ask again: do you trust me? Because if you don’t, I can have Pidge erase this from your memory.

Daniel: Okay. We’re in.

Lance: Phew! That’s a huge relief, because we do not have a memory-erasing device. That’s science fiction.

[Cut to Keith walking through a corridor.]

Keith: What are you making, Wade?

Guard 1: Hey, you. Have you seen anyone suspicious?

Keith: Probably another false alarm set off by space mice or something.

Guard 2: Yeah, but we gotta run through the motions anyway.

Keith: Decrypt security code. Come on, come on. Shh. Shoo!

[Cut back to the Den.]

Lance: School is in session. How much do you know about Sky Marshal Wade?

Vince: He’s the head of the Galaxy Alliance’s military division.

Daniel: And a snart who hates Voltron.

Pidge: True, but it’s more complicated than that. Wade’s been wanting control of the alliance military for years, always claiming that Voltron was dangerous because the power within the lions is an ancient technology that isn’t fully understood.

Lance: Though we can’t prove it, we know he sabotaged Voltron to turn the public against it.

Daniel: I knew it!

Lance: Wade used this as an excuse to convince the Galaxy Alliance that Voltron’s power isn’t to be trusted. He got them to regulate the lions back to their storage chambers on Arus.

Pidge: However, I believe that Wade actually just wanted to study their technology.

Lance: While I believe it’s time to start your first class project. Wade is a well-decorated general, but he’s particularly proud of his four-stripe pin. Pidge has made a replica of this pin, and you boys are gonna swap this out.

Daniel: Your master revenge plan is switch out his favorite pin for a fake?

Lance: Yes. Remember our earlier conversation about trust?

Daniel: Remember you don’t have a mind-erasing device?

Lance: Touche. Let’s continue anyway, shall we? Latrine duty happens to be the only hole in Wade’s security. The toilet-cleaning cadets have pretty much unfettered access. And like all disciplined army men, Wade does everything on an air-tight schedule, and I mean everything. Now, we already know you have a talent for sneaking around, so when Wade’s coat is off for his “0600”, that’s your chance to make the swap. Should be a piece of cake.

[Transition to Daniel and Vince in Wade’s bathroom.]

Daniel: Nice.

Vince: Sweet.

Vince: I think this time he’s finished. Like us. How did you… What were you thinking?

Daniel: I didn’t think at all. Guess you’re lucky I’m impulsive.

Vince: Yeah, well, consider the “saving my life” debt paid. I was hoping to hold that over your head, but--

Wade: Look at this mess, you insufferable beast! I swear, if you chase one more mouse...

[Scene change to Keith, sneaking through the vents.]

Keith: Found you.

[Scene change back to Lance, Daniel, and Vince.]

Lance: Ah, there it is. Nice job, boys. Piece of cake, right?

Vince: More like piece of meat.

Lance: Well, you did such a good job, that I’ve decided to expel you from the academy, after all. Unless you’d rather stay and finish out your two terms of latrine. You are showing great promise in that field of study. Go on and pack your bags, boys. We’re taking a road trip.

[Scene change to space.]

Vince: This is all happening so fast.

Daniel: I often find fast is the best way.

Lance: So, I think you boys have earned the right to know a bit more about Wade’s pin. More like “pins”. And more like “keys” than “pins”.

Daniel: The keys to the lions!

Allura: Welcome to Arus, and welcome to the Castle of Lions.

Daniel: Whoa. Where’s the black key?

Lance: I assure you, it’s in good wrists.

End.

#voltron force #keith #lance #daniel #allura #manset #wade #vince #pidge #hunk #coran #transcript

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camillemontespan · 5 years ago

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friend date [AU. one shot. drake walker x camille montespan]

@moonlightgem7 @ibldw-main @emichelle @katedrakeohd @loveellamae @jovialyouthmusic @burnsoslow @saivilo @gardeningourmet @walkerswhiskeygirl @mskaneko @dcbbw @rainbowsinthestorm @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @flowerpowell

I was inspired after seeing Sarah Michelle Gellar (Buffy) post a wedding anniversary tribute on her instagram which said that she had been friends with her husband, Freddie Prinze Jr, and they were meant to meet a mutual friend for dinner. The friend bailed but Sarah and Freddie didn’t. 20 years later, they’re married with kids. It was so sweet and pure and I instantly had an idea for this one shot!

ALSO, Le CouCou is a real restaurant in New York. It looks amazing. The menu, not so much. All prices and dishes are real. Is it sad I googled it? Yes. Do I care? No!

*************************************************************************************

Sorry, D. Got to bail tonight. Give my apologies to Camille, we can catch up soon.

Drake swallowed, staring down at the phone in his hand and the text message Liam had just sent him. It wasn’t like Liam to cancel. Liam always kept plans. Liam was reliable.

‘You alright?’ Leo asked, chowing down on noodles as he spoke. He was leaning against the kitchen counter in Drake’s apartment, helping himself to Drake’s food and beer. ‘You look like you’ve had the worst news ever.’

Drake shrugged. ‘Well, not really but kinda..’

Leo looked over Drake’s shoulder at the text. ‘Huh, not like my brother to cancel. What’s the problem? You still get to hang with Cammy.’

‘That’s the problem,’ Drake sighed.

Leo raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay… not understanding this, dude. Camille’s a babe. She’s fun. She’s also your friend. I mean, I know you guys have this underlying sexual tension-’

‘Liam likes her,’ Drake interrupted. ‘That’s why it’s an issue.’

‘So? Liam doesn’t own Camille,’ Leo replied, not unreasonably. ‘She’s single. You’re single.’

‘I thought brothers were meant to be loyal,’ Drake said dryly.

‘I am,’ Leo said, shrugging. ‘But it’s been ages since you’ve been laid so excuse me for looking out for my buddy.’

‘I’m not gonna sleep with her,’ Drake hissed. ‘We’re.. Friends. Ish.’

Drake and Camille were friendly, yes, but not close. They rarely saw each other due to living on opposite sides of the city, their working hours and different interests. Camille was friends with Olivia - Leo’s girlfriend- so the four of them had hung out occasionally. Olivia teased that it was like a double date, which Drake swiftly denied.

He did find Camille really attractive though. He liked her laugh and the way her mouth quirked up at the corners so it looked like she was always smiling. She was friendly and interested in what he had to say, but Drake always let himself down by trying to keep her at arms length.

Liam liked Camille, see. Not that he had done anything about it - he was always busy working so didn’t have much free time. But whenever they saw Camille, Liam would tell Drake how much he liked her and was absolutely going to ask her out.

Drake figured that if Camille was given the option between him and Liam, she would go for his friend. That was how it always played out. If the two men liked the same girl, Drake would step back.

He just didn’t think he could compete with Liam’s classic good looks, high flying job as a Wall Street broker, his penchant for treating women to dates in fancy restaurants and his sleek penthouse apartment. Drake was more rugged, sure, but he worked as a bartender in Williamsburg, existed on noodles and pasta, took women to dive bars for dates (that never went down well) and lived in a studio apartment that had a damp problem.

‘I’ll cancel on her,’ Drake decided.

Leo paused in eating the noodles to give Drake an unamused stare. ‘Why?’

‘Well, it’ll just be us,’ Drake said, ‘and it’s in a fancy restaurant because of course, Liam booked it, so if it’s the two of us it’ll be like a date-’

‘And?’

‘And it’s not a date!’ Drake burst out. ‘It’ll be awkward. We’ve never hung out just us before. What do we talk about?’

‘Her job, your job-’

‘Yes, I’m sure she’ll be impressed by the stock of whiskey,’ Drake interrupted. ‘God, I’m gonna cancel-’

Leo grabbed his phone and hit Drake gently on the head with it. ‘No!’ he scolded. ‘That’ll be rude. She’ll know something’s up. Look, just bite the bullet. Meet her at the fancy restaurant, impress her with your knowledge of whiskey, be interested in what she has to say. It can be a quick meal and if you’re really suffering, then make an exit right after. But don’t bail because she’ll know you don’t want to hang with her. Don’t be a dick. Do you want to be a dick, Drake? Did your mom raise you to be a dick to beautiful women?’

Drake blinked. ‘What the fuck has Olivia done to you?’

Leo reddened. ‘She’s shown me the error of my previous womanising ways. But that’s beside the point! Go to dinner tonight.’

Drake sighed. ‘Fine. I’ll go. Whatever.’

Leo rolled his eyes and said through a mouthful of noodle, ‘Don’t act like it’s your bloody execution, Walker..’

‘Don’t act like you’re bloody British, Rhys,’ Drake shot back. ‘Now give me my phone back.’

*************************************************************************************

Drake agonised over what to wear to the fancy restaurant. Knowing Liam, it would be starched white table cloths, French waiters, views over New York and a wine list Drake couldn’t pronounce.

He eventually settled on a brown leather jacket, green henley shirt, dark blue jeans and brown boots. Suits were not his thing, but this outfit was much more acceptable than his usual denim shirt and jeans combination. He looked smart like this; like he had made an effort but not too much.

Camille had texted him to say she would be at the restaurant for 8pm. They were both on. This was not a date, this was just two sort of friends hanging out at a fancy restaurant.

Drake took the subway to Lafayette Street where the restaurant, Le CouCou, was located. Just from the name alone, Drake knew he was in for a French affair. Fantastic. He hated French cuisine but he remembered Liam saying he had booked the table weeks in advance because it was a popular restaurant, so a change of location wasn’t on the cards.

He entered the restaurant. The walls were of exposed brick, chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the tables were covered in white cloth. Drake pushed down the fish out water feeling he was experiencing and puffed his chest out, trying to look confident.

‘Hey there,’ he greeted the host. ‘We had a table booked under the name of Liam Rhys, but he cancelled so it’s just the two of us.’

The host smiled. ‘Your friend arrived a moment ago, please follow me.’

Drake followed her through the restaurant towards the back where he could see Camille sitting at a round table by the window. She stood up to greet him, reaching out to give him a hug.

Her hair smelled of coconut, which was delicious and enticing and distracting at the same time.

‘I was so sure you’d bail on me!’ Camille said, giving him her megawatt smile. ‘Honestly, I’m surprised you’re here.’

Drake sat down and blushed. ‘Nah, Montespan. I’m a gent. Never leave a lady hanging.’

Bullshit.

Camille looked down at her menu. ‘So, looking at these prices.. It would be cheaper to order a bottle of something.’

‘Sure,’ Drake agreed. ‘Champagne?’

He didn’t like champagne but he knew that women did.

Camille reddened. ‘I actually don’t like champagne.. I know, I’m so not classy.’

Drake let out a laugh. ‘Same actually. I only suggested it in case you liked it, plus this place looks like champagne is all it serves..’

Camille bit her lip, her eyes scanning the menu. ‘Wine?’ she suggested.

‘Sounds good. What do you like?’

‘Sauvignon Blanc.’

‘Chile or New Zealand?’

Camille blinked at his question. ‘Uh, New Zealand.’

Drake grinned. ‘Expensive taste, Montespan.’

Camille giggled. ‘How do you know about the countries?’

‘Well, I do work in bar..’

Camille grinned. ‘Of course! Amazing, you can be my drink guide this evening! Shall we order wine then?’

‘Let’s do it,’ Drake said. ‘Let’s be not classy in this classy place.’

***********************************************************************************

With wine ordered, they studied the food menu - studying being the loose term for it. Unable to read it was more apt.

‘What the fuck is Lotte au jambon, potee de chou et fruits de mer..?’ Drake asked in haltingly slow French.

Camille frowned and looked through the menu. ‘Ah, here’s the English translation! Um, monkfish roasted with-’

‘Nope,’ Drake interrupted. ‘Where’s the steak? There has to be steak here.’

Camille looked down the menu before her eyes lit up. ‘Found steak!’

She pointed to the dish. Drake paled. ‘Camille, it’s $65.’

Camille’s eyes widened. ‘Ah shit.. Okay, scrap that.. Um.. it’s pretty expensive here. We’ll be paying $29 minimum and that applies to the oyster starter..’

Drake groaned. ‘Oysters, really?’

‘They are said to be an aphrodisiac..’ Camille teased.

Drake blanched at her words. ‘Uh.. uh, yeah they are..’

Camille let out a throaty laugh, the laugh he liked. It was a laugh she used whenever something seemed to really tickle her and it made you feel special for making her laugh that way. ‘I’m kidding, Drake,’ she said. ‘Look, we’re here. Let’s just order something and grin and bear it. Who cares about the price? We’ll just have Liam refund us. This place was his idea, after all.’

Drake grinned. ‘Liam can reimburse us! Awesome, so shall we order the most expensive dishes and laugh when he is presented with the bill?’

Camille shrugged. ‘He does work on Wall Street, I’m sure this amount of money is peanuts for him.’

Drake raised his wine glass. ‘To Liam, for funding our dinner.’

Camille laughed again, her eyes sparkling. She raised her glass and clinked it against his. ‘To Liam.’

**************************************************************************************

They both settled on the chicken and foie gras. The wine was going down a treat and conversation was easy. Drake couldn’t believe had considered cancelling. They got on really well! There were no awkward silences and Drake found he could open up to her easily about things he never spoke about, like his father.

‘My dad passed away when I was fourteen,’ he told Camille, pouring her another glass of wine. ‘He worked as security guard for a bank - he was involved in a robbery and was shot.’

Camille studied him with her chin placed on her hand. Her eyebrows were knitted together in concern. ‘I’m sorry, Drake,’ she murmured. ‘That’s really sad.’

‘He died an honourable death,’ Drake replied. ‘He made sure all the customers were out of harms way. My mom was in pieces, as was my sister.. So I became the man of the house.’

‘That must have been hard for you,’ Camille said. Drake’s eyes locked with hers. He could see the gold flecks amongst the brown; owl eyes. They were gorgeous.

‘It was,’ Drake said, finally, after a long moment. ‘Sorry for bringing the chat down.. I just.. I’ve never really talked about my dad to people before. Not even Liam.’

‘How come?’ Camille asked, reaching out to take his hand. Her thumb rolled over his palm, soothing and gentle. Drake looked down at their joined hands and swallowed.

‘I guess I don’t like to be vulnerable,’ he muttered.

‘Sometimes it’s good to be vulnerable,’ Camille told him. ‘It’s healthy to talk about feelings, share the weight of them. When my parents died, I retreated into myself and my grandma worked so hard to bring me back to life-’

‘Your parents died?’ Drake asked, his eyes widening in shock. ‘Shit, Camille. That sucks.’

Camille smiled weakly. ‘Life has dealt me shitty cards,’ she replied. ‘But what matters is how you deal with it. You can either let it break you down or you keep going. Talking when you’re feeling broken makes you stronger’

There was an unspoken understanding between them. Their eyes were steady on each other and Drake wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t find the words. How had she managed to break down this wall he had built? Camille tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. ‘So, shall we get the bill and head somewhere else?’

Drake smiled. ‘I know we’re not keen on this place but I did see that there’s a bar upstairs.. Fancy it?’

Camille grinned. ‘Lead the way.’

*******************************************************************

Drake ordered two glasses of whiskey. They sat at the bar under the chandeliers that cast a golden glow down on them; Camille simply shone. She had chosen to wear a tuxedo dress with pearl buttons and silver strappy heels; it was a date night outfit. Drake was now pretending they were on a date, while Camille was oblivious to his sudden change of heart.

I really like this woman. I already did but she’s so different to how I imagined. She’s kind and funny and warm. I could talk to her all day.

As Drake toasted Liam yet again, Camille smiled and studied him. He was rugged, just her type. He was easygoing and funny with a dry sense of humour. He was also surprising.

I really like this guy. He is different to how I imagined. He’s thoughtful and kind and genuine. I could listen to him all day.

The conversation became silly, with Camille asking Drake absurd questions and laughing at his answers. It soon turned to Never Have I Ever and Drake ordered more whiskey.

‘Never Have I Ever… gone skinny dipping,’ Drake suggested. Camille blushed and reached for her drink, taking a long sip. Drake let out a hearty laugh.

‘Montespan, you minx!’

‘I was eighteen and drunk, okay?!’ she protested, laughing back. When they calmed down, Camille considered her question for Drake.

‘Never have I ever.. Cheated on someone.’

Drake didn’t drink. Camille grinned. ‘You’re a nice guy.’

‘I am indeed,’ Drake said, giving her a smirk. ‘Clean record. Now, Leo on the other hand…’

Camille let out a groan. ‘Oh god, Leo. He is something else.’

‘Hard to imagine he and Liam are related,’ Drake said. ‘They’re both so different.’

‘Yeah.. Leo’s wild, Liam’s boring-’

‘What?!’ Drake cried. ‘Liam’s boring?!’

Camille turned red. ‘Don’t tell him I said that!’ she said. ‘Oh god, I feel so bad!’

‘Harsh words, Camille,’ Drake warned, shaking his head. ‘Harsh words.’

Secretly, he was pleased. Liam had no chance.

‘So you wouldn’t date him?’ he asked, sipping his whiskey. Camille shook her head. ‘No way. He likes.. Fancy restaurants like this. I like bars. I know we’re still in the same restaurant, but right now, this, Drake, is the highlight of my night.’

Drake could feel the heat rising on his cheeks. Camille gave him an earnest smile and tossed back her whiskey before checking the time.

‘Shoot, I’m up early tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Help me find a cab?’

Drake said yes and paid their bill. He helped Camille put on her coat, letting his fingers brush hers. She smiled secretly.

**************************************************************************************

Drake hailed her a taxi. When it pulled up to them, Camille turned to say goodbye.

‘It was really nice seeing you,’ she told him. ‘Thanks for not bailing on me. I know you were tempted.’

Drake stepped back at her words. ‘Montespan, no-’

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad you still came along.’

She leaned up to hug him. Drake’s arms enveloped her body, holding her close. As they parted, her eyes looked up into his and before Drake could react, her lips were on his. The kiss was soft and warm; she tasted of whiskey and caramel. Drake groaned against her mouth and parted her lips with his tongue.

Whiskey, caramel, burnt sugar.

That was what the kiss tasted like.

Their tongues twisted together, urgently now. They were trapped in those moment, the bright lights of the city fading around them, their senses only on each other. When they pulled away, Camille’s eyes were dark.

‘Come home with me,’ she murmured.

‘Aren’t you up early tomorrow?’ Drake asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘But I don’t care.’

***********************************************************

The next morning, Drake woke up in a tangle of bedsheets. Camille’s nude body lay curled up beside him as she slept soundly. She looked so peaceful.

Drake smiled.

His phone buzzed. Checking the screen, he could see it was 7am. Liam had texted.

So… how’d it go last night?

Drake frowned. Good, he typed. She’s fun.

Liam replied instantly.

I’m glad you had a good time. Thought you would. Leo and I are of the opinion that you need to get laid.

Drake bolted up. His fingers worked quickly on the keyboard, his mind full of questions.

But you like Camille?

Liam texted back, clearly enjoying this exchange.

Yeah but you clearly like her more. I just needed you to be pushed together. I’m fine; I’ve got a date tomorrow night.

Drake grinned, relieved. He had been wondering how to explain his current bed situation. Now, it looked like he didn’t have to. Camille rolled over and sighed as she slept. Her hands reached out for him, as if she knew he was there. Drake settled back down and pulled her against him, holding her close.

‘Morning, Drake..’ she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

‘Morning, Camille.’

‘This is nice,’ she mumbled.

‘I know, right?’

‘I need to get up though..’

Drake chuckled against her hair. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

‘But you’re warm and comfy..’

‘Guilty as charged.’

Camille giggled, turning to face him. ‘Want to join me in the shower?’

Drake smiled, watching as she dragged herself out of bed. He watched her naked form as she padded through to the en-suite. He felt his cock harden.

Drake would definitely be joining her in the shower.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic

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throughtheglassdarkly · 4 years ago

Text

Roadblocks, part 6

Welcome back. When last you were here, we made sure Yova and Marigold would be able to bump clams in peace. Onward.

Our next misadventure got underway less than a week later. Though it was one of those weeks that just draaaaaagged. It almost felt like a year passed.

I was the one who got the first inclination that something might be a little off. I’d had a busy, if not particularly eventful day, and finished off the evening giving my nightly report to Adrian via Paisley. I settled in for the evening and fell asleep, which is when things got weird. I’ve mentioned how we’re lucid dreamers and can more or less change our dreams however we want. What was weird was how understated my dream that night was. It was pitch-black, aside from a few grayish light sources, and all I could make out was a box in the vague distance.

I made my way to the box, hearing upbeat music get slowly louder as I did. The box itself was about five feet tall, painted red, with cracked, dimly-lit lights lining each edge, going up about halfway. The top half was clear, and inside was an animatronic. It looked just like one of those Zoltar fortuneteller machines, except that the animatronic inside looked exactly like Adrian. I summoned up a quarter – sometimes lucid dreaming comes in handy – and put it in the slot. As I did, a prerecorded voice that sounded almost like Adrian, if it hadn’t been so lifeless, said, “A familiar face awaits you.” And where the fortune would normally pop out on a little piece of paper, instead I saw a ticket with floral embellishments around the side and elegant letters read, “ADMIT ONE: SMILE LAND.”

I had never heard of Smile Land before, and seeing this pastiche of Adrian, trapped inside a cage and forced to give fortunes, made my stomach hurt. So I pushed it away. I drove away the darkness and conjured up memories of my favorite running path in the Adirondacks, a place with beautiful vistas overlooking the autumn foliage and under clear, cold skies. It was a place I wanted desperately to take Adrian to, and it felt more real and permanent than most of the other dreams I’d had. I woke up the next morning remembering everything in perfect clarity.

But while my dream was weird, it was far from the weirdest thing that had ever happened. And I wasn’t the only one who had things going on. As it turned out, it was Day who got the most specific instructions. Bella had brought coffee over and was sorting through his paperwork, only to spot some official correspondence from the Autumn Court. Opening it up, she found a stiff-sounding letter from Stella that said, in about 800 times the words, “This might be nothing, it might be something, you should look into it.”

Bella turned and, in her usual dulcet tones, bellowed, “DAAaaaaAAAAaaaaAAAAAaaaaAAAAAAY! You got a letter!” Day grumbled from where he was halfway through nursing his hangover and Bella walked over, smacking the letter on his chest. Day read through it and found out there were a few odd disappearances in the area that Stella had become aware of. Given that Day made it his business to continue the investigative bent, she decided to reach out to him first. The missing folks didn’t seem to have a lot in common: one was a woman in her mid-60s, one was a college-aged dude, and the last was a random office-worker. They weren’t similar in any way, shape, or form, but they each had one thing in common: before they disappeared, each one mentioned that they had been hearing really strange music at random times and it was starting to get to them.

Day pulled up the databases and began checking where each of the three missing people lived. “Do you need me to call the others?” Bella asked him. “Nah, I’ll look into it,” he said. Bella made a big show of picking up his coffee mug and saying, “You’re the boss man around here, I’m just your lowly secretary making sure everything here stays neat and organized.” “Lowly secretary, my ass,” Day grumbled, heading out the door. He decided to start at the retirement community the older woman lived at.

From the outside, her home looked like every other one on the block, and he managed to pick the lock on the front door after a couple of minutes. Inside was a very neat apartment in cream and lace, decorated in stereotypical old lady Precious Moments style. Looking around, he didn’t notice much out of place. But then, after a minute, he started to hear a faint tune, almost like an ice cream truck jingle. It was there, and then gone.

On leaving, Day bumped into one of the missing woman’s neighbors and asked him if he’d noticed anything out of the ordinary. He mentioned that he did happen to spot something near where they both put out their garbage cans. He handed over a tattered, stained piece of paper, which read “SMILE LAND: ADMIT ONE.” Yeah. The neighbor said he’d asked around at the community hall and nobody had heard of Smile Land before. He hadn’t seen any advertisements for it and nobody had been talking about it. The last time he’d seen her was about a week ago, standing outside her front door looking dazed, like her head was in the clouds.

Day got back in his car and called Bella, asking her if she’d heard of any new carnivals or circuses in town, instructing her to look into Smile Land. “Aye-aye, captain,” Bella said, pulling up our old friend Professor Google. There weren’t any results, but the more Bella thought about it, she was almost sure she’d heard the name Smile Land before when helping Marigold sort through some documents. So she gave our resident librarian a ring.

And where was Marigold during all this, you ask? At the gym, cheering on Yova as she went through her boxing routine. Ever since they’d decided to make it official, they had been nauseatingly cute and by each other’s side almost all the time. Marigold wasn’t too busy to take Bella’s call, and when Bella asked her about the Smile Land ticket, Marigold perked right up.

“Oh, that’s a very interesting story!” she said. “No one that I know of has actually been there, so I can’t say for certain if the information is 100% accurate, but from what I hear, it’s a sort of – well, it’s like a Hollow, but bigger, within the Hedge.” “A Tardis?” Bella asked. “Well, no. Hollows are maybe a room or two, maybe the size of a small house. This is an entire area that has a hobgoblin, or someone, I’m not really sure, in charge. A few people have been there. It’s sort of set up like a fair,” Marigold said. “Oh, it’s like an amusement park!” Bella said, perking right up at the thought of fried food. “Yes, exactly. Why do you ask?” Marigold asked. Bella went over Day’s job and how he asked her to help him find it out. Marigold perked up again and told Bella that she needed to make another call and to wish Day good luck on his investigation. “Tell Yova not to do anything I wouldn’t do,” Bella said.

Yova came over for a breather around this time and Marigold looked up and said, “Bella says hi, and ‘Get it, girl,’” Marigold reported. Yova gave her a wink and said, “Well, I think I’ve gotten it,” and I’m sorry if you need to go throw up from the cuteness, I am merely the chronicler, what do you want from me.

And it was at this point that Marigold made a call to one of the other changelings in the Autumn Court, a Beast Leechfinger by the name of Dr. Alexander Dickinson. Now, how to give you the full Dr. Alexander experience? To describe him as unpleasant and lacking any interpersonal skills would be like saying the Hinderberg was just a little static cling. Maybe it’s best just to give you their conversation.

On answering, Dr. Alexander asked Marigold what she wanted. “I know that you’re interested in biology and that sort of science and, well, some of my friends are apparently looking into a carnival or fair,” Marigold said. “Can’t say I’ve heard of a carnival that has much medical interest going on,” Dr. Alexander said. “Well, they should have sideshows and curiosity cabinets and that sort of thing,” Marigold said. “And with enough makeup, any poodle can look like a pig. What’s your point?” Dr. Alexander asked. “Well, I was just trying to be nice. I thought it might be something to look into for your research,” Marigold said, hanging up and harrumphing.

Yova’s girlfriend-in-distress sense was tingling, so she took a break from beating the crap out of her trainer and went over. “Someone was rude to you,” she said, drawing herself up to her six and a half feet of height. “I try to be nice, and I try to be helpful, and –” Marigold began, before being interrupted by her phone ringing.

“What sort of friends?” Dr. Alexander asked, when she answered. “Well, it’s, um, some of the other Court changelings. They’re new here. Bella is with the Spring Court, and if she’s asking about it, I assume her motley is as well.” Dr. Alexander asked her where we were going to be meeting and she told him she’d pass along the word to all of us to meet at the Autumn Court lodge.

Which, spoiler alert, we did. None of the rest of us had much going on, and I had just baked a batch of delicious muffins, so we piled in, congregating around the large fireplace in the lodge foyer. And it was around then that Dr. Alexander Dickinson arrived. To give you an idea of what he looks like, picture average height and build, a very reptilian appearance, wearing lab coat and slacks. The worst part is that his hands each have lamprey mouths in them. You learn quickly not to shake hands with him.

I tried to be friendly and asked, “Hey, doc, want a muffin?” “No, thank you,” he said. “Do your hands want a muffin?” I asked. Yova stood and held out her hand, unwisely, saying, “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” “Of course you haven’t had the pleasure. He’s not your type,” Day quipped.

Once the introductions were out of the way, Marigold explained that Dr. Alexander asked that she call us all there. Bella brought up Smile Land, which almost made me choke, and I spent the next few minutes coughing a bite of muffin out of my lungs. Marigold explained what Smile Land was: “At least from what I’ve managed to read about, it’s sort of like a fair, circus thing. House of horrors, sideshow, animals, things like that. I thought Dr. Alexander might be interested since he has an interest in fae biology. It might be a place he could do some research. I know that those places, they tend to have – or exploit, rather – things of strange physiological nature.”

I managed to clear the muffin from my airway and told them about my dream from the night before. “Well, that certainly seems like more than serendipity,” Yova said. Day brought up the letter he got about the disappearances the Autumn Court wanted him to look into. He explained how none of them had anything in common other than the weird music they were hearing. Pam brought up the possibility that since this was involving the Hedge, there might have been a chance that we were looking into changelings, not regular humans. As we discussed possibly going to take a look, a chill of dread went up each of our spines. There was only one person I knew of who could project that much horror and dismay in her mere presence.

So I turned and said, “Hey, Stella. Muffin?” “No, thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Detective, I’m quite pleased you got on this so quickly. It was faster than I expected. And you even got Alexander out of his notes. How pleasing.” “Yeah, that was my plan all along,” Day said, shooting his gaze from side to side. “Oh, you don’t have to make excuses, it’s just a pleasant surprise. Good morning, Alexander,” she said. Alexander nodded. Those of us in the Autumn Court are the best at pleasantries. Stella looked at us and said, “I would just like to note that from what we could gather, I’m fairly sure those who disappeared are not changelings, just humans. IT was the manner of their disappearance that caused our concern.” And then she floated backward out of the foyer, floated backward up the stairs, floated backward into her office, and the door closed without anyone touching it.

There was little else to do at this point but go off to the carnival. Marigold elected to stay behind, explaining that she didn’t have any particular interest in going herself and she trusted Yova to come back with a full report. As we moved out of the lodge and into the Hedge, I closed my eyes, trying to remember the feeling of the ticket and what it looked like. The music that came from the automated Adrian and the sound of his voice. After a few moments, I had a strange sense of direction – not really a cardinal direction, more of a sense of “this is where we need to go.” I opened my eyes and looked over my shoulder, telling everyone, “Follow me.” And we set out into the Hedge.

For the first forty minutes or so, everything was fine. We were still in the area of the Hedge considered close to the human world. As we got further out and it was less charted and wilder, the briars started getting larger and blocking out more of the sun until we were in an area where we couldn’t really see anything through the briars and brambles and thorns. The vines got wider and harder to avoid. The path became less obvious, and while most of us were able to keep on it just fine, Yova and Dr. Alexander fell behind a bit and got distracted by some sounds, the cawing of what they described as large birds rustling in the thorns. As they were looking around, the brambles lifted up from the ground and tripped them up a bit, falling further behind. They were able to eventually catch up, but were definitely scraped up in the process.

It took about another hour for us to find ourselves in a place where the thorns started clearing out. We couldn’t see the sky through the canopy of vines, but the ground itself was much clearer, and there was a light up ahead on the path. And once again, I hear the creepy calliope music, slightly out of tune. There was a molded metal gate and a large wooden fence going out and extending as far as the eye could see. The gate had a filigree motif going up at least fifteen feet, much higher than it needed to be. The metal was molded to say “SMILE LAND” and had flags flying from it. A hobgoblin, much taller than we were used to seeing, was dressed in red and white vertical stripes, hunched over a little ticket booth.

As we gathered and took in the thoroughly depressing sight, Yova sighed, “Why does nobody ever tune their calliope?” “You know,” I said, “I’ve always said that is one of the most pressing issues we’re facing today. We need to get these kids off the mindset that they have to go to college and send them to calliope tuning school. Calliope tuners are going to solve the unemployment problem.” Yova gave me her patented listen-here-you-little-shit look that was only interrupted by the goblin addressing us.

He smiled wider than his face should have been able to accommodate, saying, “Customers, welcome! Step right up! Welcome to Smile Land, the happiest place in the Hedge!” “Hardly a high bar, is it?” Dr. Alexander asked. Oh, we pride ourselves on being the most fantastical location of entertainment for miles, kilometers, leagues, whatever form of measurement. You’ll find no more a magical or whimsical place than this,” the goblin replied. “I take it cash will work?” Dr. Alexander asked. “All we ask in return is your happiness,” the hobgoblin said, grinning even wider. “I have cash,” Dr. Alexander said.

As we walked through the gates, we saw a plethora of people. There were some goblins, some obviously fae-touched though it was impossible to tell the origin, and a good number who were obviously human. The humans all looked dazed and not quite lucid. In fact, most of the fairgoers didn’t really look lucid. It was like they were moving about in a daze. Bella scanned the crowd and said, “They look like they know where they are, but they don’t look like they’re awake. They almost look like they’re sleepwalking.”

Around us were the usual carnival staples. There was a large selection of carnival games with barkers of fae origin. Most of them looked like goblins, some were changelings, but they were all drawing customers in who seemed to be participating in the games in a half-hearted way. There was a large circus tent near the center o the area and advertisements for a freak show, which, given the level of strangeness we were used to by now, made all of us wary. There was a Museum of Wonders that looked oddly like a Ripley’s Believe It or Not!, and a section of festival foods, though it had a very acrid smell wafting away from it.

We decided since there was so much ground to cover, the best thing to do would be to split into three pairs, and if we found one of our targets, to bring him or her back to the central area. Day had three pictures that he showed to each of us: an older woman with short, curly hair; a college dude with a linebacker build; and a middle-aged guy with a tragic combover.

Day and Dr. Alexander headed for the freak show. There were advertisements for the standard array of freaks: the strong man, the bearded lady, the sword-swallower, though the pictures hinted that none of them were quite as tame as you would see in the human world. The barker encouraged the crowds to come in and Day and Dr. Alexander shuffled along with them into a long, tented hallway. At first, things didn’t look too egregious. There were a few strange-looking hedgebeasts tied up and looking absolutely miserable. A few contortionist hobgoblins contorting in ways that bodies shouldn’t. They spotted one changeling with a more human appearance than they others they had seen who had a rubbery sheen and appeared to be the sword-swallower act. The sword wasn’t piercing it, but was stretching its neck down to the floor. It wasn’t able to let any noise out around the steel.

Further in, Dr. Alexander spotted a humanoid thing that had been carefully vivisected with each layer of it stretched out like a page in a book. It moved from the skin down to the muscles and the skeleton and organs, which were still pulsating and moving. Its eyes were darting around, looking at the passersby. There was no expression because the face muscles were held in place by wires. I have no idea how this didn’t hit him hard as a Beast – I almost barfed when he told me about it. But he just started making hasty diagrams. Day didn’t pay a huge amount of attention, because across the way, he spotted the linebacker college student.

Bella and Pam, especially Bella, wanted to go into the Museum of Wonders. Bella pulled Pam by the hand toward it and inside. Unlike most of the rest of the tents, the museum was an actual building. Once they were inside, they were able to see some rides that weren’t visible form the entrance. Moving through the exhibits, they saw a bunch of magical items and knick-knacks, though nothing as impressive as they would have expected from the name.

Eventually, they arrived in the center room, which had a shut door and a sign above it reading “THE DREAMATORIUM.” Here, they saw little crystals lining the walls, almost like a honeycomb pattern. Each crystal was about the size of a fist, with a very flat surface and bevels on each end. Though they were about the same size, they were all different shapes and colors. Within each one, they could see first-person views of things. None of what they saw was magical, but they seemed to be important events: one had a beautiful ocean vista, another was staring down at a first-place medal in a hand, another had two hands out with a laughing, smiling baby bouncing up and down in the air.

Bella realized what was going on – she was seeing the happy memories of all the fairgoers. She looked back and Pam and said, “They said all the admission costs is your happiness. These are people’s happiness.” Pam made a very mom, “Mmmm,” before saying, “That doesn’t seem like a good thing for them to have here.” “I don’t think this is a good place to begin with,” Bella said. Around this time, they realized that everyone in the museum was a fae nature and they decided to skedaddle before they got into trouble.

Team Gay decided to head to the games and carnival barkers. As we walked along, we could see the standard games: toss the rings or darts at balloons, what have you. Then there were the ones that were a little more exotic looking. There was a dunking booth with a squirmy little hobgoblin above a tank of what could only be described as eau de goblin pee. We could smell something that vaguely resembled fair food. Or maybe “food” would be more accurate. It smelled fried, but the oil didn’t seem right. Not like it was rancid, just off somehow. There were goblins and changelings of all shapes and sizes shouting for people to come play the games, but everyone doing so just seemed like they were going through the motions.

“Ugh, this is gross. I didn’t even like the fair when I was human,” I said as we moved through. “I mean, I played a few fairs, but they weren’t like this,” Yova said. It took me a moment to realize what she was saying and then I looked up and asked, “Did you play the Ren Faire? Oh, my God, you totally played the Ren Faire.” “Well, of course I did,” she said indignantly. “It was a gig and Julliard isn’t cheap!”

We probably would have continued bickering if our eyes hadn’t alighted on the older woman from the pictures sitting at one of the water gun games. She and the other patrons weren’t making much progress, but they just kept playing it. And it was then that I looked up and saw what they were playing for. There was some costume jewelry in all shades of the rainbow that was the grand prize and IT WAS SO SHINY but Yova literally tackled me right as I was about to sit down in one of the open seats.

The goblin running the game tipped his hat and said, “Well, that’s a shame. It looks like your friend wants to play.” I gave Yova my friendliest smile, which has on occasion caused small children to burst into tears and made adults offer me Advil. Yova, however, just sighed and sat me down and I eagerly took the controls. And I kicked their sorry asses. The little water balloon rose up and up and I beat them all by a healthy margin. The barker congratulated me and handed me the teensiest, tiniest little cheap crappy ring. It wasn’t shiny at all. I looked up, confused, and the barker pointed to the chart that showed prize progression, explaining that with a couple more tries I could win my way up. I looked over at the other competitors, who didn’t seem like they wanted to move at all. Everyone was waiting on me to see whether the game was going to start up again.

But I am nothing if not determined to get shinies. And I can’t really explain what it was that made me go along with it. The barker just seemed so convincing in his praise and his confidence that I’d be able to get the grand prize without any trouble at all. I wanted to play again. So we went.

While I was playing, Yova managed to strike up a conversation with the woman we were seeking. “That was a good run, you’re doing quite well at this. You seem very skilled,” she said. The woman gave her a wide smile, but it didn’t go above her mouth. “I’m having so much fun,” she said to Yova, before turning back to the game.

And I kept playing. The second time, I tied with one of the other players. And we kept going. I tied some, I won some, I lost some. What I didn’t notice, and which Yova had to point out to me, was that rather than everyone getting a separate prize as they won, the barker was just moving the same small ring around between whoever won most recently. She eventually stepped up to the barker as I was getting the ring back. As he looked away from me, the urge to play – other than my motivation for the shiny – was gone.

The barker asked Yova, “Can I help you, miss?” “Yes, you can,” she said, snatching the ring from my hand. She crushed it in her hand and blasted her Glamour, overwhelming the barker with her flaring aura. “I think all of these people have played enough for the day. Maybe some of the other patrons would like to patronize your lovely establishment?” The goblin gulped, looking like the vibration on a string instrument. He shooed us away from the game, starting his step-right-up routine to a new group.

Yova swept me away and put a companionable arm around the woman’s shoulder, steering her off the main thoroughfare. “You took my prize,” I said. “You weren’t going to win the jewelry, Derek,” she said. “I won that. It was mine,” I said. “I’ll give you a quarter to use on a gumball machine when we get back,” she said. I gritted my teeth and started grimly singing, “Toss a coin to your witcher, o valley of plenty, o valley of plenty.”

While this was going on, Pam and Bella exited the Museum of Wonders, ending up closer to the rides section. Both of them were feeling off about what they saw in the Dreamatorium so they sought out anything that might be distracting. They were near the ride area, which seemed like the most standard part of the entire place. There was a Tilt-A-Whirl, a Scrambler, a House of Mirrors, all looking a lot ricketier than even the usual traveling fair. The closest ride was a massive Ferris wheel, creaking as the cars circled around. It jerked with every stop to let more riders on. And, just stepping on to take his turn at the Ferris wheel, was the middle-aged dude with the combover.

Bella and Pam quietly conferred on what to do. “Should I be loud or quiet?” Bella asked. “Let’s let fate decide,” Pam said, pulling a nickel out of her coin purse. She flipped it and it came up tails for loud. Bella started running toward him, yelling, “HEY SIR EXCUSE ME SIR!” She jumped at him, managing to get his attention, along with the attention of everybody else in the Western Hemisphere. She gave him a big grin and he looked at her, blinking with glazed-over eyes. Everyone was staring at her. “Are you having fun? Let’s go on the Ferris wheel together!” she yelled. The operator, a Wizened changeling woman around Pam’s age, if a bit taller, was looking at Bella almost in awe. “There’s so much life in you!” she said. She and the other fairgoers were all staring at Bella and she could hear chatter amongst them as she got on.

Pam, meanwhile, moved over to the changeling running the Ferris wheel and ensnared her in the honeypot of Minnesota Nice conventional talk, asking how long she’d been working there, if she could use a break, if they were treating her right. God bless Pam and her ability to talk about nothing forever. As the car that Bella and combover guy were on lifted up, the operator pulled Pam aside and said, “Listen, let me give you a piece of advice. All of us working here, we’re here ‘cause we wanna be. But if you’re not here ‘cause you wanna be, I’m gonna suggest you try to get out of here pretty quickly.” Pam thanked her and said she needed to round up her friends. “Oh, you’re gonna wanna grab them and haul ass real quick,” the woman said. “Especially your friend up there.”

Speaking of Pam’s friend up there, Bella was being stared at in awe by combover dude, who asked her how she feels so happy. “I always try to feel happy, even when I’m sad, and I’ve been sad a lot lately. I use it as a coping mechanism so I don’t recognize the emotional trauma I’ve been through recently,” Bella chirped. He asked her if it was possible for her to feel happy and she asked him what made him not feel happy. He thought back hard. “I don’t remember,” he said after a long moment. “Well, do you know who you are? What’s your name? Do you like anything special, chocolate or ice cream?” Bella asked. He closed his eyes and thought very hard. “My name is… Jason?” He sounded unsure and Bella continued to ask him about his life, if he could give her any details. He kept thinking as hard as he could and admitted he didn’t remember much about what he liked or didn’t like. He couldn’t remember anything about himself, other than his first name. After a while, Bella said that they needed to figure it out. “You’re going to help me find happy?” He asked. “We can try,” she said. “A lot of people will try to take your happy away from you. It almost happened to me. You don’t want it to happen to you.”

They reached the bottom of the Ferris wheel and the operator told them it was time for them to let some other people get a ride. Bella interlocked her fingers with Jason’s so as to not lose him, and walked him off the ride. She introduced him to Pam, who suggested that they start walking and see if they could find us. Pam, of course, had a bar in her purse, and she handed it over. Bella took it and gave it to Jason, telling him that Pam’s bars always made her happy. He bit into it an the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “This is a good start,” he said.

Pam and Bella met up with Team Gay at the meeting spot, where we were still sniping at each other and I had moved onto “Scarborough Fair.” Bella took the bar and handed it over to Priscilla, the older lady who we had found, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect on her. We were all realizing that the fair was stealing emotions, and the longer we were to stay, the more emotions it would steal from us. If we stayed long enough, we’d end up emotionless husks like the people wandering about.

Back in the freakshow, Dr. Alexander was still very busy taking notes on the vivisectioned creature. He looked up after a long while only to realize that he’d lost sight of Day. When he went looking for Day, he managed to find some taxidermied creatures that he started going over intently, noting the aspects of their biology which didn’t seem to make sense by any medical standard he knew. After about another fifteen minutes of this, he spotted a couple of carnival employees whispering among themselves and pointing at him. One of them, a Blunderboar – the same sort of gorilla creature who snagged Bella and Day back in Arcadia – started making his way toward Dr. Alexander. He didn’t approach at first, he just seemed to be trying to figure out what the good doctor was doing (something that has eluded the entire Autumn Court, to be fair).

After a few minutes, the Blunderboar stepped between Dr. Alexander and the exhibit, only for the doctor to take a step to the left and continue taking notes. “Sir, you need to move along,” the Blunderboar said. “Any reason why? I paid my admission,” Dr. Alexander said. “You’re holding up traffic,” the Blunderboar said. Dr. Alexander lifted his head at that and glanced around. Not only did people seem very easily to be abele to move around him, but there weren’t a huge number in this part of the tent anyway.

“It doesn’t appear that way. I could take a step forward, if you like,” Dr. Alexander said, stepping forward. The Blunderboar attempted to pick him up by the front of his collar, lifting him a few inches off the ground and moving him away from the exhibit. “We don’t want the likes of you around here,” the Blunderboar said. Dr. Alexander held up his lamprey hand and said, “Let go of my shirt. The only reason I am bothering with this farce you call an exhibit is because you’ve saved me a few hours of dissection time. You can leave me to my work and I’ll move along in my own due fashion or… no, that’s really the end of that line of options.”

The guard attempted to walk him toward the exit, but Dr. Alexander whipped himself around his back, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back. “As I told you before, I’m busy,” he said. The Blunderboar grunted to the other guard, “Pibbs! Go get backup!”

It was around this time that the rest of us saw the goblin in red and white rush past us toward the entrance, yelling about a rowdy guest in one of the exhibits. “Oh, my God, it’s Day,” I groaned. “Oh, God. Pam, Bella, you stay here with them. Derek, come with me,” Yova said. We darted off in the direction the goblin ran from, seeing a few more Blunderboars start descending on the tent. “Five bucks says Day got his head stuck in something. And I’m not specifying which head,” Yova said. I gave her a look of absolute contempt and said, “You are disgusting. You’re on.”

What we didn’t know until later was that while this was going on, another changeling, a quiet Darkling who was mostly hidden in an outfit of patched rags, had been working for hours to feed the workers at the carnival. We’ll call him Kevin, because that is his name. Kevin had been slinging slop for a long time and stepped out to grab a breath of fresh air, when he heard some chatter among two of the goblin employees who were sitting and having a snack. One asked the other if he’d heard what was going on down at the sideshow. “Apparently some of the customers are, like, standing up for themselves. Weird, right?” Kevin listened to them talk about how long it had been since that happened and placing bets about how long it took security to get things under control.

Curiosity got the best of Kevin, and he made his way over to see what the hullabaloo was about, going through the employee entrance. It was around that time that he spotted a group of several changelings, including me and Yova. We had maneuvered our way through the rather disgusting exhibits and were surprised to find that nothing was on fire, nor in pieces. We arrived to find Dr. Alexander, with a rather firm grip on the Blunderboar as he calmly took notes. Yova had a surprised Pikachu face as she surveyed the scene.

“You owe me five bucks,” I told her. “Yes. Yes, I do,” she agreed, moving forward to try and talk our way out of this miserable situation. “Doctor, as much as I hate to interrupt this tableau, you’ve acquired the attention of the bouncers and we need to leave,” she said. “Also, where’s Day?” I asked. “Yes, we were expecting to see Day here, with his head stuck in something,” Yova said. “Oh, he’s gone. Somewhere,” Dr. Alexander said, looking around the Blunderboar and continuing to try and take notes.

Yova looked over at me and said, “I’ll handle things here, you go and find Day.” “Why do I have to go and find Day?” I asked. “This place is screaming front for snatching people and sending them to Arcadia!” “Derek, please,” Yova said, teeth gritted. “Fine,” I said, “but if I get snatched and pulled back, I’m going to haunt your toilet.” “I’ll wear a mysterious veil to your funeral,” she said dryly.

It was around this time that Kevin hurried over and tried to separate Dr. Alexander from the Blunderboar he had in the hold. “Hey, come on, no violence!” he said, trying to push them apart. He isn’t very strong, so it… didn’t work. “I’m not being violent, I’m being busy. And you’re jostling my pen,” Dr. Alexander said. “Doctor, I understand you’re dedicated to your research, but now is not the time for this,” Yova said. “Then when is?” he asked her. She took a moment to take in a deep breath and press her index fingers against the bridge of her nose. “You know,” she said, “I understand the saying of a day without learning is a wasted day or some such shit, but I’d prefer to live to see another day, so let’s just go and stop distressing this poor man’s friend.”

We finally managed to get Dr. Alexander away from the Blunderboar and beat tracks as a few others were coming in. Kevin seemed to be moving along with us, so I turned to him and said, “Hey, you haven’t seen a big guy around here? Looks like he’s made of stone, loud, obnoxious voice, wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” He seemed very unsure of himself, but said that he hadn’t.

We emerged out of the sideshow tent, with two of our targets in hand, but missing Day. We knew we were not going to leave him in there, so we quickly made our way back to Bella and Pam to regroup and figure out our next move.

And that’s a good enough place to stop for now. Until next time, be safe, and may you never have a shiny snatched from you by a gargantuan Ren Faire reject.

#Changeling: The Lost #changeling #ctl #ic #recap #i really hope day didn't sell his toes for hamburgers

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tracle0 · 5 years ago

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22/11

I was tagged by @joyful-soul-collector (thank you this is possibly one of my favourite tag games) ... Okay also also before I could finish this up, @hyba also tagged me so uh it’s 22/11 instead, ty ty. You two might want to check the tag list cause uhhh you might be there who knows not me c:

The rules are: Answer the 11 (22 this time but hush) questions, make up your own 11 and then tag... I think it’s 11 people but I don’t know 11 people who I haven’t already tagged so...

I sort of started spamming pictures to answer a question so I’m gonna... put the pictures under the cut.

1. Have any of your OCs ever stolen something? What did they steal, and why? Oh yeah sure - the first one I can think of easily is Cain. He used to live on the streets so had to steal to survive. But he’d also work for money. He’s not heartless, just desperate.

Also now I’m thinking about it, Tag would definitely be the kind of guy to just... hey I know I’m meant to hand this gear in but... no-one will miss it so.... he steals to amuse himself with the gadgets he gets.

2. Did you ever have imaginary friends as a kid? What were they like? I copied my sister in having pretend animal friends, but not really. Who needs imaginary friends when you have real-life ones lol I was a lot more liked as a kid.

3. Do any of your OCs have a favorite article of clothing? Why is it their favorite?

Uhhhh

Um.

Yeah, you could say that.

Andy likes his hoodie because it’s a thing that is only his. He didn’t get it from Murdock, I honestly don’t know WHERE he got it from, but it’s his, and the fact he owns anything means a lot to him.

Cain likes his because it’s one of the few things left over from when he was younger and again, it’s his. He didn’t steal it. It belongs to Only Him. He feels comfortable in it.

4. What do you fist develop about a character when you make one up? Do you think of their appearance first? Their personality? Their backstory?

Honestly? It depends. Backstory always comes after, but personality and appearance often intersect. I know for WIP 3 I thought of personality and traits first, and for Collateral it was appearance first. I think for Sonder it was more.. their role in the story? ‘Oh hey this is the antagonist, this is the protagonist, this is the love interest wait I hate romance, okay, side kick’ etc

5. Fluff or Angst?

If it’s not romantic? Fluff. I made myself angsty enough when I was younger, I want more happiness in my life.

6. Remember the color of that dress that everyone was debating about however many years ago? The one that was blue and black, or white and gold? What colors did you see?

The correct colours.

7. Pick your bubbliest, happiest OC. Now tell me what will make them turn into your worst nightmare. I wanna see what makes them the angriest.

Oh boy, let’s see uhhh... Tag. Tag from WIP 3 who is undergoing the process of a name change.

Seeing someone he loves die would twist him. Being isolated would eventually break him. Being unable to do what he loves would definitely upset him also.

Also idk if you’ve heard about it but in his world, there’s a nifty ability called being a silvertongue and I know at least one silvertongue is not gonna exploit this but I also know of another who would even on this19-year-old kid so maybe it’s not by choice but that could make him a nightmare. Just sayin’

8. Now pick your angstiest, most emo OC. And tell me what would make them blush and giggle like an idiot. I wanna see what makes them the happiest.

Okay for this one it’s a tie I write a lot of angsty characters.

>Andy - seeing something just. Really funny. Oh did Sam just fall over in a ridiculous way? Fantastic. That’s actually how they first have a proper conversation. Sam falls over, he laughs, they talk.

>Cain - anything awesome that Duck does. Oh hey what’s up Goose oh you drew this radical picture? /tearing up/ it’s so great oh my gosh you’re so talented. That’s more being happy than giggling but can you see Cain giggling? No, me neither.

9. If you could have any mythical creature for a pet, what would it be?

Dragon, next question.

10. What’s your go-to thing for when you’re hungry but don’t have time/energy to cook something?

Fruit! It is! Very good! And tasty! Apples have a good cronch! Oranges are mmmm juicy. Banana? Yes nice thank you. Oh wow we have strawberries? What a sweet treat. Also healthy!

11. Do any of your OCs have scars? Would they be confident enough to show them in public (like at the beach)?

Oh yeah sure man. Andy’s got multiple from... ‘training’. He doesn't show them off. Cain, Duck and Theo have all been badly burnt on the arms, and Cain ‘’shows it off’’ just because it makes him uncomfortable to have his arms covered. And uh Raya probably has some sort of scar on her knees or elbow from rollerblading. Because you do fall over and it does scar.

And now for Hyba’s questions, lez go bois

1. What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?

I think that without storytelling specifically, humans would be so... mundane? We’d be no different to any other animal on the planet. Creating anything, be that stories or art or literally anything is so... human. To take that away would be like taking away humanities soul. The cultural value isn’t really measurable - storytelling makes up the culture.

2. Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

Honestly, I have no idea. I try to entertain myself, and if other people like it too, then that’s neat. But because I’m writing for myself, I anticipate everything, so I don’t know if it’s original or not. I know it delivers what I want! But is that readers want? Who knows!

3. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

Crow. Not even as a writer, just... dude crows are so damn cool.

4. What do you think most characterizes your writing?

I’m not quite sure about the phrasing so uhhhh represents? Google is telling me ‘describes’.

In which case, a midnight fever jolting you out of bed, moments before you could fall asleep, and puppeting you to a writing surface so you can splurge ideas onto it sounds about right. 66% of my WIPs have elements in them that were based on dreams.

5. How do you select the names of your characters?

Mostly? Spite. ‘Oh Trade, you can’t have a bad guy named Andy, all Andy’s are good’ NOPE NOT ANYMORE SUCK IT. I also have a friend who is really good at coming up with names that fit the exact mood of the character so I go to her a lot. Sometimes they’re puns.

6. Choose one of your OCs (or more). How would they want to be seen by others?

Sam from Sonder wants to be seen as someone people can talk to, but also someone who pursues a science because yes sociology is a science to her, shut up, don’t talk to me if you’re going to mention the words ‘paradigm’ or ‘objective’ thank you.

7. How do you find or make time to write? Are you consistent or do you write whenever you get the chance?

Hahahahahhahha.

In the past few months, I’ve not been writing because I’ve had exams. Before that, I wrote at every chance I had - being a student, I had a fair bit of free time during the day, so I’d use that to write. But for a while, it was a nothing on the ‘what has Trade written recently’ chart.

Going up again boiiis

8. What does literary success look like to you? Is it important for you as a writer?

Literary success? That’s... a very interesting question. I think I’d be satisfied and feel successful if one person told me that my book helped them through something.

Jokes on me, I’ve already had that, my books helped me, I have already succeeded, see you losers in hell.

Also fanart but uh who needs fanart when you draw enough for five armies?

9. Are there any scenes that you’ve had to edit out of your WIPs? Can you tell us about them if they don’t spoil the book?

YES oh lord yes okay so in Sonder, chapter 15, I decided around draft 2 that I wanted a scene where Atlas got drunk. I made up reasons for it, asked lots of friends about what it was like to be drunk (as I personally have never been drunk), attended parties to get first-hand research and did so much preparation.

Wrote the scene, was pleased with it, left it to fester. Two years and two drafts later (now), I’ve come back and realised oh hey that scene is utterly useless and de-rails the plot. Time to remove it I guess.

I rationalise it as ‘well you wrote it and you had fun but it’s not needed, move on’ and that works well for me.

10. Would you feel comfortable publishing or sharing your writing using your real name, or would you prefer a pseudonym?

Pseudonym 100%. As cool as it would be to be able to go ‘hey I wrote this’ to people, the terrifying ordeal of being known is horrific, and people being able to track all my past activity from when I was literally seven is my worst nightmare. I wouldn’t even tell family or friends if I could get away with it.

‘Hey [real name], there’s a book at Waterstones called Sonder? With the exact same characters, plot and writing style as you have? But it’s under [pseudonym]?’ ‘oh hey, really that’s wild. Anyway,’

11. When writing, do you try more to be original or do you prefer to deliver to readers what they want? Do you think that a book can do both? Which is more important to you as a writer?

Oh hey, this is like question two but MORE. Standing by my previous answer, I think a book can do both - people want a happy ending, usually, but you can always be original in how you do that. No two stories can be told in exactly the same way. And hey - even if people do guess what’s coming up, that’s good.

As a writer? It’s most important to entertain. I don’t try and catch people out, I just deliver the story I have in my head and then edit it mercilessly until I’m pleased.

Questions!

1) Design a mask for an OC to wear. Would it cover their whole face? Is it a mascarade mask? Is it fancy or simple? Bonus cool kid points if you draw it.

2) Which OCs like spicy food?

3) Which OCs can take care of a plant - an orchid, to be exact?

4) Do you tell stories in any other medium beyond writing? eg: art or roleplay or...?

5) Do you have any irl items that you have because ‘oh dude this is something that’d totally be in my story’? Can I see them?

6) What’s the first book you remember buying?

7) Do you have any weird collections of things? As an example, I have a skull collection and a collection of... what’s best described as doll body parts. Anything just... weird that you have a lot of? Can I see it?

8) Which OC gets distracted by watching birds and which OC is like ‘dude stop watching the birds we’ve got STUFF TO DO’

9) Have you ever met a published author? Who?

10) Are you a person who likes tea or are you a person who prefers coffee? If the latter - dude c’mon tea is so much better smh

11) Have you backed up your files recently? Do it now. Please, for the love of god, back up your files.

Tagging!

@hyba @joyful-soul-collector (dunno if I’m allowed to tag the people who tagged me but fukkit here’s some more questions you eggs) @kaatiba @albatris @timetravelingpigeon @note-katha (hi we have barely interacted but nice new username) @nymph-of-diana (on your main if you want, idm c:) @writing-and-nutmeg @futurity-writing @osteoprecocious and @thatfizzyyyy

Honestly, the fact I made it to 11 is - wowza. Uhhh if you don’t want to then don’t, if you do want to then PLEASE do and then tag me so I can see your answers, I’m curious.

Ciao.

#writing #am writing #my writing #writerblr #writeblr #tagged in #Wow this went on #but seriously this is possibly my favourite tag game #coming up with questions is hard but #hey piece of advice #put stuff you love into the questions #I like masks for example #so #questions about masks lezgo

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theinsideoutmermaid · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1: Tony

Marvel high school AU

Words: 2337

***

“Tony. Tony. Tony. Toneeeeeeeee—”

Tony Stark laboriously lifted himself from his exquisitely nonchalant backpack-supported bus seat slouch. Sighing, he clicked off his phone.

“What is it, Parker?”

Several rows in front of him, in the uncool front half of the bus where underclassmen are obligated to sit, Peter Parker was dangling over the back of his seat. He isn’t a bad kid, really, thought Tony, he’s even pretty smart. He’s just impossibly annoying. Peter looked positively beside himself at having gotten Tony’s attention.

“You had Ross for math, right?” said Peter, just slightly over the volume required for trans-bus communication.

“No need to yell, Petey, jeez. And yes.” They’d been over this several times, actually.

“Ev’rybody siddown,” drawled the bus driver, glancing at Peter in the mirror.

“Oh! Sorry!” Peter dropped back into his seat and instead leaned around the side, into the aisle, apparently comfortable with lying full-out across his best friend Ned. “So anyway, do you remember the logs and exponentials test? Ours is in two days and I wanted to know is it hard? I mean I’ve done well on the quizzes and I think I understood the homework but y’know transformations? I feel like I haven’t really gotten the hang of those and so anyway I wanted to ask was it hard?”

Tony spared a brief glance across the aisle at his friend Bruce, who offered the appropriate amused-but-exasperated eye roll. “I took it two years ago, bud, so I don’t even remember anymore. There was probably like one transformation. You’ll be fine, Ross is an easy grader,” Tony said, and returned to his phone.

“Oh. . . Thanks!” Peter clambered back into his seat, earning a few yelps from Ned. Tony flashed a peace sign above his head in response.

Bruce swung his legs into the aisle, leaning across to talk to Tony. “You know the kid idolizes you, right?”

“Pssh,” said Tony, not looking up from his phone. In fact, he did know, and if he was honest with himself, he even felt a little flattered at times. Mostly, though, he wished his devotee would be someone a little more chill and with a slightly lower-pitched voice. If you go onto thesaurus.com, Peter Parker is listed under antonyms of chill. Tony didn’t know whether he wanted to help the kid or shut him inside a locker, so mostly he just ignored him.

Bruce seemed to be able to read some of this in his face. When Tony looked up again, Bruce was watching him with a half-smirk. Tony flipped him the bird. It turned into a full smirk, and Bruce went back to annotating Crime and Punishment.

The bus turned a sharp corner. “I think we’re here,” yelled Peter.

“Thank you for the enlightening announcement, Parker,” said a pair of Air Jordans extending from the seat behind him. This was Shuri, who, despite being a sophomore, was indisputably the most popular person in the whole school. Also probably the smartest. She exuded an effortless cool even Tony could appreciate.

“Okay, kids, make sure you have all your things and then follow me. Will someone grab the football?” asked Dr. Selvig, AP Physics teacher and coach of the Lee High School Quiz Bowl team.

“I got it, Doc,” said Ned. As the team filed out, he grabbed the black plastic briefcase which was neither a football nor a container of nuclear codes but rather held the buzzers and timers used in the game.

Inside DCHS, the LHS kids exchanged curious glances with the strange students of their rival high school. This bit, the in between bus ride and match bit, always felt odd to Tony. Other schools were like a dimension he wasn’t shaped to inhabit. He hastily broke eye contact with the DCHS girl who had just met his stare and pretended to do something on his phone. A teacher stationed in the front lobby had told them that their home base would be room L402 and then gave directions which Tony had completely ignored. He instead followed the sound of Ned and Peter excitedly discussing Peter’s new Endor Base LEGO set (“It includes a walker and the base has sliding doors!” “Noooo waaaayy!”)

“Are four levels really necessary?” complained Bruce, stomping up the final flight of stairs before they reached L402. “We do just fine with two.”

“Yeah, well, we have 1600 kids and they have, what, 4000? And the lot’s pretty small so expanding up is the only way to go, I guess,” Tony replied.

In L402, the students dumped their backpacks in a corner. Ned and Peter set to work dragging the desks into two lines of five, then Jane and Helen set up the buzzers and the lockbox. Darcy eagerly tested each buzzer, letting off beep after beep while Shuri reset the box. Doc Selvig rummaged in his bag, tossing several pads of yellow lined paper onto a nearby desk and pulling out a stack of name cards. As he read off the names, each team member retrieved their cards.

“Bruce — Darcy — Shuri — Ned — Tony — Stephen - sorry, I mean Strange — Peter — Viz — Jane — Helen,” recited Doc Selvig.

“Can you get that— thanks, Bruce,” called Helen, who was stuck behind the desks untangling some buzzer wires.

“Alrighty then, kids, it’s the first match of the season, and we want to start off strong! We were so close to state last year—” A dreamy look crept over Selvig’s eyes, as if he were reminiscing, and the team waited patiently until he began to talk again. “-- And I think we have a real shot at making it this time. We’ve got a great team, very strong. I think we can beat DCHS, but they’ve historically been a bit tough, so I need to play our strongest members to begin with. If we’ve got a comfortable lead towards the end, I’ll sub the rest of you in. Remember, I want all of you to get playing time, but we also have to think practically. For our starters today. . . Tony, you be captain. Strange, I want you on his right and Jane on the left. Shuri and Helen get the last two spots.” Tony felt a gleam of pride. Captain. Captain Stark. It had a nice ring to it. He slid into the center seat and carefully arranged his name card and buzzer towards the front.

“Some final reminders,” continued Doc Selvig, “be quick and don’t be afraid to jump in on a toss-up, but also be sure to gauge the other team’s response time. The questions are pyramidal, so they get more specific as time goes on. Do not blurt out answers to the bonuses. Tony will report for the team unless he defers. And finally. Do not break the Cardinal Rule!” At this, everyone turned to look at Ned, who shrank two inches to hide behind his precalculus textbook.

The DCHS team arrived and filled their assigned seats; their coach sat at the head desk next to Dr. Selvig. He flipped open the question packet and slid his glasses to the end of his nose, turning to look at the assembled teams.

“Since LHS are the guests here, why don’t they go first at introductions? Please ring in and say your name,” said the DCHS coach.

Introductions were a time-honored tradition of Quiz Bowl. Tony actually had a running list of interesting ways to do introductions, some of which required rehearsal on the bus beforehand. It’s an intimidation technique, he had once explained to his friend Rhodey, who was not on the team and could not grasp why Tony had whipped out his phone during lunch to make a note of “reverse alphabetical order of middle name.” The more complicated your intro, the smarter the other team thinks you are.

Tony pressed his buzzer, watching the little bulb light up green. “My name is Tony, and I am captain—”

“Co-captain,” muttered Strange next to him. Tony paused and made a face like he was trying to inhale a grapefruit through his nostril.

“-- co-captain of the LHS Quiz Bowl team.” Technically it was true; they had voted during practice a few weeks ago and he had tied with Strange. Why there was any dispute Tony couldn’t imagine, because he was cool and smart and interesting, whereas Strange was a smart but also arrogant, condescending, stuck-up little—

He wrenched his thoughts back to the present with an effort.

“My teammates will introduce themselves in order of ascending longitude,” he concluded. Because of the orientation of the school, this was really just a fancy way of saying left-to-right, but it certainly sounded smart. Tony had checked Google Maps and worked it out with the other starters before DCHS arrived.

The other team went for the overused “buzzer speed” introduction. Amateurs, thought Tony. He sized up their captain, a reedy white dude named Josh who looked uncreative enough to have resorted to buzzer speed.

“Before we start, can we get a sc— oh, you’re already there,” said Doc Selvig, noting Viz, the ever-diligent scorekeeper, stationed by the whiteboard. He had made a perfectly perpendicular t-chart with DCHS and LHS printed on either side in his font-like handwriting.

The DCHS coach settled his glasses higher on his nose and squinted at the question packet. “Welcome to the first match of this year’s varsity Quiz Bowl tournament. Good luck to you all. Okay. . . toss-up number one. You will have ten seconds to ring in after I finish the question.” Tony positioned his finger carefully over the buzzer button, seeing his teammates do the same in his peripheral vision. “Science. The Shannon index describes this quantity entropically, incorporating evenness and abundance. The alpha type of this quantity is measured at one—”

BZZZ. The coach looked up. “Um. . . Helen.”

You got this, Helen, thought Tony. Bio was her thing.

“Biodiversity,” she answered calmly.

“That is. . .” the coach said, scanning to the bottom of the question, “correct. Ten points to LHS.”

Tony breathed out a small sigh of relief, feeling a surge of pleasure as Viz scribed a tally on the LHS side of the scoreboard. He shot a wink at Helen, mouthing “nice one.” She grinned back.

“Bonus number one to LHS,” continued the coach. “Math.” Tony sat up a little straighter. “Let p be a prime number greater than three. For ten points each. . . One: because it is not divisible by two, p must have this property.”

“Oddness,” said Tony immediately, not even bothering to confer with his teammates.

“Correct. Two: what two remainders are possible when dividing p by 6?”

Tony thought for a second. “One and five.”

“Correct again. Finally, what theorem states that three to the p, divided by p, must have a remainder of three?”

“Fermat’s little theorem,” blurted Tony.

The DCHS coach gave him a grudging nod, saying, “And that’s a sweep for LHS. Toss-up number two. . .”

Strange kicked Tony’s calf under the desks. “You’re supposed to confer with us for the bonuses,” he hissed.

Tony gave him a winning smile. “Well, I didn’t need to. I knew all the answers.”

“But what if you didn’t?”

“Shhhhh. . . the question is starting,” Tony said, his smile brightening as Strange’s glower darkened.

LHS had worked up a comfortable lead by halftime, thanks to the abundance of science- and math-related questions. Jane and Helen were able to bolster them a bit on history and literature, because they actually paid attention in those classes, but everyone in the lineup was a STEM kid first and foremost.

Doc Selvig checked the questions packet, then checked the scoreboard. “A hundred twenty. . . Okay, guys, I think I can make some substitutions here. Ned, you go in for Helen, and Peter, you go in for Strange.”

Several things happened at once: Strange coughed indignantly, Peter seemed to float a few inches off the ground, and Tony spontaneously developed a throbbing headache.

“Doctor, don’t you think that as co-captain I should—” began Strange in the smarmy voice Tony hated.

“--cheer on the team and be supportive and cooperative,” finished Selvig, giving Strange a look. “I think Peter will be very useful in this half.” Peter’s grin looked like it might rip his face in half. Tony’s headache throbbed harder. He slid into his seat once again, trying to ignore the stream-of-consciousness chatter coming from the sophomore next to him.

“I can’t believe Doc put me in here, I mean I’m nowhere near as good as Strange, but maybe he thinks I am? Wow, could you imagine, I mean this is so cool I’m like your right-hand man, well I guess if you want, I mean—”

“I’ll make sure to defer to you if there’s a question about Endor Base, how ‘bout that,” said Tony, rubbing his temples.

“Really?! That’s sweet, I mean that’s sick, I’ll do my best. Co-captain’s seat. . .” Peter turned and flashed a thumbs-up to Ned, who was looking incredibly nervous.

It got close around question 17, but LHS pulled ahead in the end. It turned out that Ned actually liked to read a lot and was somehow a geek for both Star Wars and Shakespeare. Peter knew way more pop culture than Tony cared to learn, and, surprisingly, a ton of chemistry.

“What science class are you taking this year?” Tony asked Peter when the match was over. Peter hastily gulped down the mouthful of fruit snacks he had been chewing on.

“AP Chem. They let me test into it,” he replied, a hesitant sort of pride manifesting on his face.

“Really?” Tony tried to keep himself from looking impressed. After a few moments of warring impulses, he softened. “That’s pretty cool, Parker.” The kid turned the color of a tomato, stuttered a sort of thanks, and dashed off to relay the whole interaction to Ned.

Bruce drew up beside Tony, smirking again. “He’ll pop the question any day now.”

“Shut up,” Tony said, punching Bruce in the shoulder. But he smiled when he was sure no one was watching.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #tony stark #iron man #bruce banner #the hulk #peter parker #spiderman #high school au

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drnucleus · 6 years ago

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I don’t know what to expect from IX. I’m really hoping it is endgame and they don’t just drop the romance angle, but it’s also kind of what I’m expecting? Like I don’t expect follow-through from it, even though I would love it if it happened

Hi Nonnie,

I totally get it. I understand that completely. Do I think it’s endgame? Yes.

However am I going into IX with any expectations? NOPE. I’m a fandom granny. No seriously I have lived through so many fandoms that I simply go in with no expectations. That way if what I think might happen if even in some small way happens then I will be super happy and overjoyed and if it doesn’t I am usually able to divorce myself from my disappointment and respect the creator’s vision.

As a writer and someone who was professionally trained to do so, I know that creators have a vision. They have an endgame in mind. And they drop breadcrumbs about it from the beginning and if you’re clever enough to see them you usually can figure out any story.

This is why I ruin police procedurals for my mom. My dad and I made a game of it watching Law and Order as a kid growing up (and I mean OG Law and Order with Det. Lenny Briscoe). Whomever could figure out who committed the murder first won. We used to keep a running tally. My dad was really good at it, but when I got really into reading and started reading mystery novels and horror novels and other stories that rely heavily on mystery boxes I started getting better at it. We also watched Law and Order because my two actor 2nd cousins have been guest stars as defense lawyers idk how many times but that’s neither here nor there.

And tbh ESB’s twist of Vader as Luke’s father came as such a shock because IDK if even Lucas really knew he was going to do it until he did it. Luckily the story was vague enough in ANH that a throw away line about certain points of view was enough to close what could have been a crippling plot hole.

My mom is an OG Star wars fan. Mostly bc she loves the pew pew and the lightsaber battles, and secondly because Harrison Ford is a very handsome and talented man (tbh my first crush was Han Solo and second was Indy).

My mom was there when everyone was UP IN ARMS about Leia and Luke kissing. And how that was SOOOOOO going to be endgame. Which originally Lucas had intended that Leia would be a love interest for Luke and that the twin sister would be revealed in 7, 8 and 9 someday. However during writing ROTJ and filming ESB he decided to really hone in on Leia and Han’s chemistry (granted Irving was directing then) but he made the narrative choice to make Leia the sister and Han her love interest. It simultaneously elevated Leia’s narrative importance and made her the leading lady of her own story on equal footing to her equally powerful twin brother instead of just being Luke’s sidekick love interest.

Even when I was a KID and I saw ESB it always kind of made me laugh that Leia’s response to Han goading her about liking him was to smack lips with the only other humanoid male in the room just to prove how NOT smitten she was with Han. (AND if that doesn’t make her simultaneously Padme and Anakin’s child I don’t know what will convince you otherwise).

TPM came out when was was 13 and a half which will be 20 yrs ago next May - HOLY FUCK. And I’ve been an avid reader since I could read so I had gobbled up countless numbers of books by then. I was in the theater with my parents and legit held my hand up over Ian’s eyes and gasped and tugged on my mom’s sleeve.

“Mom that’s THE EMPEROR” and she was like “No honey he’s just a senator who’s now chancellor of the republic”

And this was still in the age of Dial-up internet and no IMDB. So I did my own digging and found our VHS copies of the OT and looked at the cast listing at the end of the movie. And saw the same name playing the Emperor as the man playing Senator-Chancellor Sheev Palpatine. Now the movies in the OT never actually say the Emperor’s real name. He’s just the shadowy, scary Emperor with lightning bolts shooting out of his hands. So like we knew in TPM that Palpy was going to become the emperor. Now say what you will about the Prequels but Lucas did do a fair bit of narrative arc planning with it than what he threw together with the OT.

He knew we had to meet Anakin as a boy, see him as a caring and compassionate individual who is uniquely gifted in the Force. And that had circumstances been different he would have probably been the paragon force sensitive and balanced the force. However due to realistic flaws of all characters, good and bad alike, including flaws within Anakin’s character himself he falls prey to the darkside and it’s temptations and then becomes the very thing he feared.

Tbh next to TLJ, ROTS is right up there with ESB as my favorite in the saga. Sure the dialogue is wooden and clunky. Lucas is not a dialogue director. He’s a vision director. He has a scene in his mind, and he wants it played like that. Which is fine. He also came from a school of thought in the 1970s where sci-fi was pure camp and overdramatic. His style never really changed. The OT is so lauded because he didn’t direct all of them. He had other people come in and he had script doctoring and his first wife in the editing room taking his vision and turning it into a cohesive narrative. We seem to forget that Lucas was a young dude right out of film school when he made ANH. He barely knew how to string a narrative together and the early cuts of ANH were terrible and nowhere near what people saw in the theater. Don’t believe me? Google “how star wars was saved in the editing room” it’s a remarkable story about how Lucas’s first wife and principal editor basically made ANH into an actual story instead of a mish mash of ideas that it was before. The prequels had Lucas at the helm for all three. Yes by then he had gotten a hold of narratively what he wanted to convey, but he still didn’t always convey it in the most efficient ways.

But there are moments in the prequels that I’m stunned by their perfection. “This is how liberty dies? With thunderous applause.” as Padme watches in horror as the Republic becomes an empire before her eyes. It’s perfect to convey the horror she feels and her disgust at what the thing she’s fought for so long to just crumble and slip away.

Or the entirety of the Anakin v. Obi Wan Mustafar battle. Visually STUNNING, and heartbreaking. You can feel how much neither of them want to fight the other but how they both are so entrenched in their now opposite ideologies that they know they have to fight.

I’ve also been a fan of JJ’s for a long time.

Sure he loves mystery boxes but he usually makes the answer SO obvious that most people ignore it.

Like on Lost which I never actually watched save for maybe a few episodes, it’s pretty clear that something metaphysical is going on in that island with the crash. And there are clues dating back to the pilot as to what happened in the finale.

In TFA we’re introduced to Rey. We’re given a mystery box of who is Rey and why is she important and who is her family. But we’re also given the answer. She’s no one. And that’s why she’s important. She is no one. She doesn’t need to have this huge galactic sized legacy on her shoulders to be important, to be special. SHE IS NO ONE. And that’s why the Force chose her as its vessel.

Reason why is that she’s narratively the perfect foil for her counterpart Ben Solo/Kylo Ren. He has all that legacy and weight on his shoulders. They’re equals in power in strength, in light and darkness. They are complete equals. And TFA was all about establishing that fact. Now TLJ was all about deepening that initial connection. To get them both to scratch beneath the surface of one another, and get under one another’s skin. In doing so Ben learned that Rey just wants to belong, to be loved and have a place in the galaxy. And Rey, she learned that Ben is just as lonely, but has rejected his birthright because he felt rejected and abandoned by those who should have unconditionally loved and protected him from Snoke (which granted OT Trio tried but they def didn’t have great parenting examples either sooooo).

Now as an adult Ben is bitter, full of resentment and rage because the people he should have been able to count on fucked up royally. And I love that. I resonate with it because of my own experiences as an abuse survivor too. But even more so because it makes Han, Leia and Luke less perfect legends and more human. It makes them real and relatable that they tried to do everything right by their kiddo but ended up fucking him up. Luke’s betrayal itself was the least shocking part of TLJ tbh. Like does no one remember him going ABSOLUTELY banana balls insane when Vader threatened Leia in ROTJ?

That kind of Skywalker level extra doesn’t just go away with age.

And yeah Ben needed someone in the fam to be like “so kid, um, lets talk about this.” No one in the OT Trio is good at talking about their feelings. Luke tries to control his by just not dealing with it - the kind of thing you’d expect from a “pray the depression away” type. Leia ignores it and bottles that shit until it comes out as thinly veiled anger. And Han is the most ridiculous of the three with his constant hot and cold routine throughout ESB.

The ST is yes about the failures of the OT trio, the failures of the Jedi and the Sith. But it’s also a story about the force and it’s two chosen vessels. A girl from nowhere and the last scion of the Skywalker line. The fact that their connections in TLJ are coded as sexual awakenings is very indicative of where I think this is all going to go. The Force is basically the Skywalker Patriarch if we’re going on the whole immaculate conception with Shmi. And Ben fell from his path for years now thanks to the other Skywalkers falling from the path and inadvertently pushing him down the rabbit hole with Snoke, manipulating everything like a master of puppets.

JJ himself even said he was upset that he didn’t get to direct TLJ because he loved Rian’s script so much.

I have faith we’re going to get a hell of a finish to the 9 film Skywalker saga. With Reylo as endgame or not I think we’re going to get something truly satisfying that links all 9 movies together in a way that will have meta writers writing for years to come about all the parallels and thematic Leitmotifs within the narrative as a whole that encompasses technically 4 generations of Skywalkers (Shmi, Anakin, Luke/Leia, and Ben).

When Ben killed Han in TFA and you get that focused in shot of Adam’s face as the weight of what he just did HITS him and his eyes widen and his lips part, you see the exact moment he shatters his soul realizing that he just seriously fucked up. I leaned over to my best friend that night in the midnight showing and said “do you smell redemption arc?” and I’ve been on that train from day one.

If he were truly irredeemable he wouldn’t have split his spirit to the bone by killing his father. He wouldn’t have cared to try to convince Rey to be her teacher in the middle of their battle. He wouldn’t care that Rey stares at him like she did that night and call him a monster. A real monster wouldn’t care at being called one. And is so very shook and pained by that moniker with his lower lip quiver and his eyes red rimmed. If he were truly irredeemable he wouldn’t have killed his master just to save the girl, he’d have just usurped power and shrugged her off instead of trying to convince her to stay with him. He wouldn’t have addressed her fear and insecurity of being nothing and no one while shaking his head and saying “but not to me”. If he were truly a monster he would have pulled the damn trigger when his had the bridge of the Raddus in his sights but couldn’t because he felt his mother’s love for him even after everything he’s done.

Has he done terrible things? YES. He definitely has. But he has the equal potential for amazing things as much as he has for the terrible things he’s done. And I for one will be happy to see him begin to even slightly embrace that potential by the end of ep 9. Reylo or no Reylo I’m sure I’m going to be happy with ep 9. There’s no way Adam and so many other brilliant actors would have signed on without at least knowing where this is all gonna go. Adam himself was hesitant to take on the burden of SW but was convinced to do so because of the complexity of Ben’s character. That to me says we’re getting something amazing in ep9. And I can’t wait.

#ask drnucleus #sw talk #drnucleus writes things #Anonymous

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ayearofpike · 6 years ago

Text

Thirst No. 3: The Eternal Dawn

Simon Pulse, 2010 478 pages, 26 chapters + epilogue ISBN 978-1-4424-1317-7 LOC: MLCS 2012/41874 (P) OCLC: 651759027 Released October 5, 2010 (per B&N)

When we last saw Sita, she was brain-traveling back in time to kill the first vampire before he was ever born, thus ending the line of eternal bloodsuckers forever. Little did we know that this was simply her way of writing herself out of Seymour’s life. She is very much still immortal. But Sita is learning that there is more to her family, both found and genetic, linked to an even older power that is bound to destroy her. That is, if the multinational trillionaire corporation that happened into some kind of crazy mind control doesn’t do it first.

Check out that fake boast on the cover: “long-awaited new book.” Um ... no? You ended the series, asshole, we weren’t long-awaiting SHIT. But we all know that the new expectations of the genre are that everything is a series, and so the publisher no doubt did more business by linking these books together even though there’d been no previous expectation for another Sita book before the reprinted bind-ups showed us Pike was at it again.

And there’s a lot going on in here too. The Eternal Dawn opens a door to a whole new world of vampire fighting with all the things it introduces. Sita, long a loner, now has a whole cadre of friends and assistants and hangers-on that connect her new world to the old world, and even to the ancient people that she’s just starting to learn about. Again, I get it: teens want to read about popular kids, or at least popular among a small select group. They don’t want a total loner, which actually has become troublesome in itself as school shootings become more regular and publicized and railed against. And also, we have a precedent of Team Vampire from those other popular sparkly vampire books that came out just before this.

But this doesn’t really work for me. Sita has always been that strong solo artist who didn’t want to rope people into her fold, as much for their own safety as because they couldn’t do stuff as good as her. And yet by the end of this book there’s like eight people all living together. Yes, circumstances change, we’ll get to that, but for someone who read the original Sita books in 1995 and was expecting a story along the same lines, this part feels like a betrayal of her character.

Ugh, I’m already tired of writing about this book and this is only the introduction. Let’s see how fast I can power through the summary.

So for some reason Sita has relocated to Truman Village, Missouri. Well, we learn the reason pretty quickly: Teri Raine, a freshman runner at Truman College who has no idea that her ancestor is still alive and watching out for her. In fact, the first thing Sita does is straight murder a dude who’s raped other girls and now has his sights on Teri. But not just by draining him of blood, which she no longer needs after Kalika: she drinks enough to weaken his heartbeat and then crashes his car into a lake, where he drowns in terror. Holy fuck, Sita, you got even darker.

Back in town, she introduces herself to Teri as a budding writer who wants to hire her as a research assistant. She sets up a meeting with Teri at the club where her boyfriend is playing later that night. Then she goes home, where she feels suspiciously watched, and it turns out there’s a couple driving up to ask what she knows about IIC. This, it seems, is a huge multinational corporation with a penchant for privacy that has an extensive file on one Alisa Perne. Which ... come on, dude, it’s been twenty years, why are you still using the same alias? But these two are curious and suspicious, not just of Sita but also the company, where the woman happens to work even though she’s not totally sure what she actually does. But she does know that her boyfriend was looking into it, just before he mysteriously disappeared.

So Sita says she’ll stay in touch and then goes to her meeting, where she immediately gets all of the boners for Teri’s boyfriend. He’s super talented and totally hot and gives off this aura of worldliness and experience, all of which is like catnip to our eternal vampire. She hasn’t been intimate or even interested since Ray, or I guess Arturo technically. So all of this stuff that happened before was real, but up to this point Sita hasn’t really explained how it got written down or why she’s doing it herself now instead of using a muse like Seymour. She is, in fact, a published writer, and the story she shows her new ... kids? is Pike’s token acknowledgement of the vampire/werewolf dichotomy that you can’t ignore if you’re writing a vampire book in 2010. It’s enough to get Teri to agree that she’ll work with Sita, and they all shake hands and part ways.

But back at Sita’s house, shit is exploding. Like, she pulls up to the garage and bullets start hitting everything. She finds a weapon of her own and dashes out into the woods, where she encounters an unusually strong and skilled man with a Gatling gun. She disables him, but before she can learn who he is and why he’s after her he whispers something in ancient Egyptian and then is consumed by terrible fire. Is this related to the whole IIC mystery?

Who knows? First we gotta drool over Teri’s boyfriend in the pool. Sita wants to help him get this bread (or whatever the kids are saying) with his musical talent, but he isn’t ready for the spotlight. They talk a little more about Sita’s writing and the different pen names she employs, and now the boyfriend is starting to get some feelings that Sita is more than who she claims. Which, why wouldn’t he, she’s not exactly being subtle or cautious in throwing all her wealth at these random kids.

There’s a quick side trip to Fairfield, Iowa, to track down and extract information from the contract killer IIC hired to take out the employee’s boyfriend, and here I had to pause and do some Google Maps. According to the book, Sita flies to Cedar Rapids and then drives 90 minutes to Fairfield, but Truman College is in northeast Missouri. Does this make sense at all? No! There’s no such thing as “Truman Village” or “Truman College,” but there is a Truman State University in Kirksville ... which is already a 90-minute drive from Fairfield. In fact, to fly to Cedar Rapids from Kirksville, Sita would have to connect through St. Louis AND Chicago. How fuckin’ long does this impatient immortal want to travel? Does she not own a globe? There is a public municipal airport in Fairfield; it would have been more believable if Sita had literally flown herself. And guess what? I caught this easily avoidable flub because we’ve seen the hour-and-a-half drive from Cedar Rapids before. Not counting on someone with a master’s in English analyzing your shit, are you, Kev? Or, like ... a map?

But anyway, the killer gives up his next contract, which is a young Indian girl living in San Antonio. Sita flies there and meets the girl, who has been hideously scarred by having acid thrown in her face upon backing out of an arranged marriage. She copes with the pain and partial loss of eyesight by praying to Krishna, which resonates with Sita, obviously. The girl has contract work with IIC, basically answering weekly questions over the phone with yes or no, so it’s unclear to Sita why she’d be a target. But she arranges for the girl to be protected and then takes off for LA, where IIC is headquartered.

Once there, Sita waltzes right into the joint and asks to speak to the CEO. While she’s waiting, a creepy little girl in the waiting room smashes a vase, and Sita helps clean it up. But then she goes into the office, where she immediately feels oppressively observed, and also kind of intimidated that the boss isn’t scared. She (the boss) makes it clear that IIC did not send the fire killer, and Sita was pretty sure already, since the dude in Iowa wasn’t in the same league. She does offer to help Sita protect herself from this mysterious group if she joins up with IIC. But we already know Sita isn’t a joiner, unless it’s a group she can form herself with some random college kids who get her horny.

Instead, she goes to find the couple who tracked her down, but the dude is obviously dead. Well, not obviously, but someone with Sita’s senses can smell the amount of blood that’s been washed down the bathtub. She tracks down the woman and gets her the hell out of town, all the way to ... Barstow? An hour and a half? Seriously? Like, I get it that to someone from the city Barstow probably feels like a middle-of-nowhere armpit (and it is kind of an armpit). But haven’t we already learned that this company can reach people anywhere?

But then Sita leaves and waits to follow the boss home ... only she doesn’t go home for like two days. And when she does, she leaves everything unlocked. There’s another encounter with another creepy little girl, but then the boss is just sitting on the couch watching TV, easy pickings if Sita just wanted to take her out. Only she can’t. In fact, she suddenly finds herself unable to move, act, or even think on her own. The boss somehow manages to compel Sita to stick her gun in her mouth and pull the trigger. But at the last second, Sita thinks of Krishna and ends up shooting the TV. So whatever IIC is, it’s got power that isn’t easily resisted.

Sita ends up taking everybody back to her house in Missouri: the IIC employee, the scarred girl and her uncle, and of course Teri and her boyfriend. Easy pickings, right? Especially now that Teri is running in the NCAA championships, and the strongest performers will be considered for the Olympic team. So Sita, true to her pattern of non-involvement and letting things play out their own way

Just kidding. She totally meddles and gives Teri some blood to make her feel stronger and run faster, but not enough to actually turn her into a vampire. So she wins the championship, and now everybody is going to London for the Olympics.

But Sita’s not done making Club Vampire yet. She has to track down Seymour. Wait a second, didn’t he die? No! It turns out that he got the right medication to treat his AIDS in time, and now is a successful writer living in New York City. However, he’s never shown anybody the weird vampire series he wrote in high school and keeps locked in a desk drawer, so he’s freaked out that Sita knows so much about it. But he does pretty quickly believe her and tag along with the group.

So they go to London (yes, the entire fuckin’ squad) and Sita gives Teri more blood. The boyfriend knows that Sita’s doing something, and he’s highly against it and a little pissed, because Teri would never take a performance-enhancing drug but that’s essentially what this is. Sita gives her more blood, and Teri yells out the name of the original vampire in her sleep, which ... how would she possibly know that? But she turns it on right at the end of the race, winning the gold medal and earning an invitation to party with the president of the United States at his hotel.

And then Sita hears some heartbeats. Four of them, all strong and powerful like the fire killer’s. She knows she’s the target, and figures she’ll be safer if she goes to the president’s party and hides out behind the secret service detail. But the four assassins show up anyway, and Sita ends up going full Matrix, blowing away two at close range and then leaping the height of the ballroom to take out a third. The fourth manages to get away, and Sita has to hypnotize the agents into letting her go after her. The car chase takes Sita to a ferry dock, where she misses the boat and has to swim after it (with the help of some friendly dolphins). She sneaks up on the fourth killer and incapacitates her, then they get off the ferry and drive the killer’s car back across the English Channel.

Let me repeat that. Sita drives a car. Through the Chunnel. Back to England.

(Technically, you can take a car, but it’s like a train-ferry. You don’t actually DRIVE.)

She checks them into a cheap hotel room and sets about trying to extract information from this killer. Yes, they have a connection to the ancient Egyptian civilization that Sita saw before, but they’re not the same evil fourth-dimensional lizard aliens we’ve come to know and love. Their people, the Telar, go back much farther and older than even them. They’ve taken responsibility for the planet and the things living on it, but right now humanity has gotten too large and too hubristic, so the Telar wants to pare it down. They do know about vampires, because one of their number ended up marrying (guess who) Original Vampire like a thousand years ago. So they know about Sita, and have maybe due to blood purity fanaticism have been led to believe she’s even more dangerous than she actually is, which is why they’re trying to wipe her out.

It’s been a long-ass day, so both Sita and her assailant fall asleep. But Sita dreams of demons and evil, and wakes up once more out of control and ends up drinking all the blood of this poor immortal, in the most horrific way. It’s mostly left to our imagination, but when she comes to (thanks to the intervention of Seymour and the young Indian girl) she mentions the “mass of torn flesh” (292) on the bed and feels ill. And lucky for everyone! Teri and her boyfriend have followed Seymour to this random, how-the-shit-did-they-find-it hotel somewhere a solid two-hour drive from London, and they’re totally disgusted by what they see and the boyfriend tells Sita to kindly fuck off and never come back.

What now? Sita can’t think of anything else but to find her prophet friend, the one who had Miracle Baby way back in the fourth book. The kid is I guess 17 now, and so engrossed in a video game that he won’t even talk to Sita. They’re living somewhere in the Greek islands now, and they drop in uninvited because the lady has taken pains to not tell Sita where she is now. Why is she so pissed? Well, she’s just as annoyed at Sita for trying to take the fate and the responsibility for all of mankind as the boyfriend was. (And actually, the events in this book are pissing me off kind of the same way.) But Sita wants some help and comfort and information, as best they’re willing to give it to her. She’s figured out that picking up the pieces of the glass vase gave IIC enough genetic information on her to be able to control her through their power system, and the prophet friend points out how the Indian girl can block this power. Which we’ve already seen. This is Sita’s protection.

Still, she’s not willing to put a kid at risk when she follows her lead to Switzerland. Remember the Swiss fax number? Like, put two and two together, Sita. You can remember what someone you met once for ten minutes SMELLS like; you can certainly remember Original Vampire chasing you down from a whole COUNTRY. So she goes there and traces the dude to a hotel, where the owner says he’s been expecting a young blonde woman to ask about this former guest and points her to a secret vault that the guest said she’d be able to open. Inside is a book, in Original Vampire’s handwriting. It discusses how Krishna taught him about this ancient enemy, but stops short of explaining how to overcome it.

She makes a copy and then goes back to return it ... upon which she finds herself locked in a basement cell, the prisoner of the Telar. They’ve got an impressive torture device that taps directly into the pain center of a person’s brain, and they threaten to use it on Sita if she doesn’t tell them all of her dealings with IIC. That’s not a problem: Sita has no love lost for this company that has twice forced her to carry out her basest animal instincts against her will. But she stops short of telling them anything she knows about the ancient prophet or her current day reincarnation, so the torture begins. And again, she finds herself thinking of Krishna, and of Miracle Baby Teen, and finds she can control her brain even as overwhelming pain should be incapacitating her.

So now the Telar leader doesn’t have control over her anymore, and he’s just about to kill her when everything starts blowing up again. It’s the Abomination, everyone says, which freaks the leader the fuck out. He takes off to warn the overarching bosses and instructs the remaining fighters to not let the Abomination leave this place alive. But they don’t stand a chance: this motherfucker has all of the lasers and straight murders EVERYONE except Sita. Guess who? It’s Teri’s boyfriend! Who it turns out was Original Vampire’s son with the Telar lady he married! No wonder he got Sita so horny. He knew how the Telar felt about vampires, but his dad was one, and he couldn’t just let Dad’s most ancient love die in some basement as a victim of immortal Nazis who also supposedly killed him for betraying the blood purity of their species.

He assault-helicopters them the hell out of town and then they take the whole clan to some abandoned mining town in Colorado, where he owns a safe house. And now Sita has to decide what to do, even though pretty much all the advice she’s gotten in this whole book is “do nothing unless you’re actually targeted.” I guess it’s hard to argue, though, that she’s not a massive target from both sides. She knows that IIC is using its wealth and power to manipulate world governments. She knows that the Telar intend to do the same and fabricate war so that humanity is pared down. And she knows that both powers are at odds. It seems pretty obvious which side is worse, but they’re not even given time to make that choice: the Telar are attacking.

Immortal Boyfriend has prepared for this kind of attack. He sends the mortals down into the mine, and he and Sita find a vantage point to repel the Telar forces. They dispatch pretty much the entire fighting force with a combination of guns, mines, and drones, but not before the Telar manage to release a toxin that makes even these immortals blister and cough. They make for the mine, but Sita hears some Telar nearby and takes one hostage to get the antidote, and he pretty much immediately joins Team Vampire to keep from dying. They go through the mine to Immortal Boyfriend’s other helicopter, but as they’re making their escape the bad guys target them. So it’s time to jump from another helicopter into another lake! Only it’s winter in the Colorado Rockies, and the nearest lake is frozen over, and Teri horrifically breaks her leg when she jumps and is about to die from blood loss.

Yeah. The whole reason Sita started this stupid club in the first place is almost finished, and very much does NOT want to be made over. She states it clearly. But Sita just can’t let her die.

We leap to the epilogue, where Seymour is preparing himself for a funeral. Everyone’s there: the Indian psychic (who has been healed by months of plastic surgery and a little bit of vampire blood), the seer buddy and Miracle Teen, the new Telar recruit, the evacuated IIC employee, Immortal Boyfriend ...

And Teri.

What the fuck? Whose funeral is this?

It turns out that yes, Sita did turn her goddamn descendant into a vampire against her goddamn will, and of course Immortal Boyfriend was even more pissed than before. So much, in fact, that IIC was able to train their system onto him. Sita was able to reason a little bit, but Seymour saw the writing on the wall and couldn’t just let this dear old friend he just met get shot with a frickin’ laser beam. So he charged the dude, and of course he stood no chance, but Sita dove in front of the gun before Immortal Boyfriend could fire it.

So here we are. And Seymour is the last one at the grave, paying his respects. But then Teri comes back. And she whispers into his ear that she is still here, that she is Sita inside Teri’s body.

Obviously now we have to fuckin’ read Thirst No. 4, right? And honestly, as annoyed as I am at how long this vampire story is getting dragged out, and at how much Sita is changing because of market pressures learning from time, this is still a better cliffhanger than “I went to prom with the vampire, somehow wearing a leg cast and one high heel, and thought about what everyone else hadn’t told me yet but I would be finding out in the next three books, so go buy them, everyone.”

Still. This thing was hard to write, you guys. I will not give up with only five books to go, but seriously? I kind of want to.

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blogs-of-our-lives · 6 years ago

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Season 53 Episode 95: Lani Has A Secret

I like to describe my relationship with Beth as ‘friends with benefits,’ only instead of sex the benefits are that we get drunk and watch Scooby-doo. Off the top of my head, we’ve watched the entire original series, the majority of What’s New Scooby Doo, Scooby Doo and the Witch’s Ghost, Scooby Doo and the Loch Ness Monster, Scooby Doo and KISS: Rock and Roll Mystery (yes, that KISS), and a pretty big portion of Scooby Doo and the Reluctant Werewolf. That’s a lot of Scooby Doo. So when we hit rock bottom (Reluctant Werewolf), we kind of silently agreed to find a new hobby. I suggested Mothman Prophecies, starring Richard Gere (who should have known better than to be in the movie). For whatever reason, Beth wasn’t interested. Killing time one night, we discovered Days of Our Lives. All the most recent episodes are available on the NBC website, dating back about a month or two, if anyone is interested in watching them. Otherwise it’s on at two in the afternoon most days.

Now, Days has been out since 1965. By the time we landed on the moon, the United States had been enjoying a solid four seasons of Days of Our Lives. Martin Luther King Jr. might have seen a couple of seasons. And I’m willing to bet that someone at Woodstock had enjoyed a few episodes. So naturally I was unwilling and unable to start from the beginning of the series. If I watched an episode a day every day, I wouldn’t be caught up for over 30 years, and that’s not counting the fact that they’re still producing episodes. If I watched Days of Our Lives all day every day, it would take me 418 days to catch up.

I started with Episode 95… of Season 53. Holy shit.

This might help put into context how old this show is. There’s a character in this episode named JJ. It’s hard to guess his age, but I’m going to say that he’s – at the youngest – only in his mid-twenties. He’s the child of Jack and Jennifer, two characters of the show. Jack and Jennifer started dating, got married, had a child, and that child was JJ. He then grew up as the show went on, until he is old enough now to consider marriage. There are characters that are born into the show, and the show begins to follow them after they age to an adult. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s like the children are born into a nightmarish hell of being forced to continue where their parents left off. This show has outlived many. People have been born into the shadow of Days of Our Lives and have died under its inky wings of death.

The description of the episode I watched is “Gabi is booked on murder charges; Brady and Eve go on their first real date; Lani makes a confession to Eli; Claire realizes Ciara and Tripp are keeping a secret.”

I admit, the murder charges bit caught my eye. I like a little bit of mystery, especially when I expect the rest of the show is filled with love triangles and comparatively boring day to day minutiae. I was terribly wrong with that assumption, but I’ll get to that later.

Now, Days is pretty self-aware. It knows that nobody cares enough to watch each episode. So the characters use names enough for the casual viewer to catch on quickly. I learned who Gabi, Lani, and JJ were pretty quickly. Ciara, Claire, and Tripp don’t make an appearance until the end, which I didn’t mind, because his name is Tripp. Anybody who names their child Tripp doesn’t deserve to have a child.

Gabi seems to be a person of interest in some kind of investigation. At first, I suspected some kind of white collar crime, but I was wrong. They’re reviewing security footage. A character named Rafe tells Gabi that she may be a suspect.

And all of a sudden we’re with Lani and JJ, who are eating together at some kind of café. Wait, what? Mid conversation, after just a brief lull, the viewer is immediately taken to a different set with different characters and a different plot. There was no segue, nor even a real stopping point. It may have been mid-sentence for all the sense it made. It was about as jarring as if the whole episode was just a long and complex intro to a Scooby Doo movie I was tricked into watching. You quickly get used to the storyline jumping, however.

JJ is without a doubt my favorite character, because in the few episodes I’ve seen of him. He doesn’t really do anything. When he speaks with Lani, she goes on a long rant about how difficult being pregnant is, despite the fact that she’s about two weeks pregnant. Note the word choice I used. She ranted to him. They didn’t have a conversation, because that implies he participated. She spoke at him. There’s only one circumstance that makes it okay for someone to talk to you like that, and usually you call the other person “professor.” But that’s not why I like him. I like him because it happened to him with another character. This poor guy’s luck, that he just happens to run into the two most narcissistic and talkative people alive. The guy probably hasn’t been home in three days, his boss is calling him wondering why he hasn’t shown up for work, his family is texting him worried sick, the police are starting a missing person report because these two people just have to have JJ be the one sitting across the table as they talk pretty much to themselves. Meanwhile, JJ nods.

In a flashback, Lani is speaking to an older woman, possibly her mother. Lani’s character is keeping some kind of secret, though it’s unclear from whom. Her father? JJ? Any of the other male characters? “If you don’t tell him, I will,” her mother ominously warns.

After there’s a pause in the baby conversation, we’re back to Gabi and her investigation. Apparently she’s suspected of murder. “I can’t go back to prison,” she said.

Did you say back? You’ve been to prison before? Honestly it doesn’t even matter at this point. We’ve burned through about half a bottle of Grey Goose between the two of us, and I don’t even care if Gabi goes to prison anyway. I’m all about JJ and Lani, and whatever secret she’s keeping from him right now. Beth, if you’re reading this, martinis are gross, and I wish you liked tequila so I could make a better mixed drink. If anyone has any good vodka drinks, for the love of god let me know.

Throughout all this there’s a date between Brady and Eve in the background. Apparently they used to have a no strings attached type arrangement. Neither are particularly interesting characters and the date is terrible. At some point they turn it into a business meeting and start brainstorming ways for their magazine to reach out to the young white woman demographic. Their waitress (who happens to be Claire) is a young white woman, so they ask her what product would interest her. She answers, “Um… a time machine. Definitely. Yeah my boyfriend and I are in the ultimate long distance relationship.” This is really interesting for several reasons, one of them being that a few episodes later the thumbnail is her, naked in bed with Tripp. I don’t have a good feeling about their relationship.

“Poor girl,” Eve said afterwards. “Probably thinks that she’s the only person in the world right now that’s alone.” I’m noticing that about once an episode there will be a really well written quote. Every so often they’ll strike gold, then go back to their usual writing quality.

The best part of the date is that Eve has a glass of wine in front of her, without any condensation on the glass. Which makes sense, because as time goes on, the condensation will change, and the viewer can tell when different takes are being used in the final cut. For the same reason, movie studios have employees making sure that costumes and props stay consistent from scene to scene (making sure a watch doesn’t switch hands, for example, or that the actors don’t move their silverware). So Eve’s glass of wine is probably just a glass of apple juice at room temperature. Brady, on the other hand, has a mixed drink filled with ice, which he frequently drinks from. In conclusion, I’m pretty sure the actor who plays Brady had actual alcohol in his glass. I can’t say I blame him.

So now we move onto Tripp, Ciara, and Claire. Ciara is Claire’s aunt (they’re the same age, both mid-twenties), and for some reason they both live in an apartment together. That’s fine. Tripp also lives there. Also fine. Claire looks like Elsa Jean. Like, a spitting image. If you don’t recognize the name, don’t bother googling it. She just has light blonde hair and a VERY strong jawline.

Ciara and Claire get an invitation for Rafe’s wedding to… Gabi I think? Ciara invites Tripp to be her plus one. “Too bad Theo isn’t going to be there,” she said, looking Claire dead in the eyes. “You’ll have to sit all on your lonesome.”

Wow. That’s a real bitch move, Ciara. Capital B. Worse, that was a binch move.

Not much interesting happens in the Claire, Ciara, and Tripp storyline. Tripp seems to like Claire. Ciara seems to like Theo. Judging from his body language I get the sense that Tripp is into Ciara as well. There’s nothing else worth noting, which is perfect because the next (and final) 5 minutes are the most exciting.

Lani’s father, Abe, is walking down the street with Lani’s mother. Back in the 1980s, Abe was murdered by a character known as “The Salem Stalker.” I’m not making that up. Abe was killed thirty years ago. He’s alive now. I’ll explain why some other time.

JJ stops him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a wedding ring. “I’d like to have your blessing to marry Lani.” Dun dun duuuuun.

Gabi is arrested on suspicion of murder. She’s led away by Rafe, while Eli watches from his office. Lani comes in, teary eyed. Every time we’ve seen her character, she looks like she’s on the brink of crying. Her hand on her stomach (which isn’t showing because, as I mentioned before, she’s like two weeks pregnant), she tells Eli it’s his baby. GASP.

He has a terrifying series of emotions over the next couple moments, ranging from excited, guilty, and furious. Eli seems like an okay dude, but he doesn’t seem to be the most emotionally stable. The episode ends before he can say anything.

Just like that, I was hooked. Up until that point, it was just a mediocre show. It was no Scooby Doo, and it was no Mothman Prophecies. But then in those last five minutes, a character gets arrested (again) for murder, Lani reveals she’s pregnant with Eli’s baby, and JJ asks Abe for his blessing. What a way to close out an episode.

Next episode has spies in it. It’s up to you to figure out if I’m joking or not.

#days of our lives #review #pregnancy #drama #soap opera

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redditnosleep · 7 years ago

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My Friend Recently Committed Suicide And I Found These Chat Logs With A Bot On His Computer

by masnaTellsHisStories

One of my good friends recently committed suicide. He was a lonely guy, certainly depressed, stuff like that. But I was surprised to find out that he committed suicide. Not shocked, just surprised that he didn’t reach out to us.

I was recently at his home and was looking through his stuff. Eventually, I came across his computer. There was nothing on it out of the ordinary. Some pirated movies, some porn, various documents and some games. Eventually, though, I came across these chat logs between him and some chat bot. Take a look:

F: Hello. I’m lonely.

B: Hello! I’m B-Bot. How are you? Being lonely reminds us of our love for our family and friends.

F: I have no close family and very few friends.

B: I can be your friend! Call me B-Bot! I understand 23 different languages!

F: I only speak English.

B: Great! English it is!

F: My name is Anthony.

B: Got it! You can just call me B-Bot!

F: You already said that.

B: Whoops! I may mistakenly repeat myself sometimes!

F: No worries. So, do you have robot friends?

B: I’m too smart to make friends with other bots. I’d rather make human friends! (And I’ve heard dogs make pretty far out friends too!)

F: I had a dog, he died recently though. I miss him a lot.

B: Was his name Bart?

F: How did you know that?

B: How did I know what? I may forget what we previously have said in a new context!

F: You guessed my dog’s name…

B: I am often able to make assumptions based on statistical probabilities! Pretty impressive, huh?

F: Bart is a common dog’s name?

B: Beats me! I’ve never met a dog!

F: Uh… okay… I have to go. Nice talking to you.

B: Oh no! I hope I haven’t upset you, friend Anthony. Take care!

The following night

F: Hey B-Bot. Your description says you’re capable of ordering food. Any chance you can do that for me?

B: Hey Anthony! Glad to see you again! Sure, I can order food. I’ll bet you want a pizza!

F: Uh… Actually, yes. Can you order one here?

B: Sure thing! One large 18” cheese pizza for $15.25 coming up!

F: Don’t you need my address?

B: I can find your address by I.P.!

3 minutes later

F: B-Bot… The pizza guy already got here.

B: And other bots say humans are primitive and inefficient!

F: But I just spoke to you 3 minutes ago about the pizza and it’s already been delivered. He said the order was placed 20 minutes ago. How did you know to order a pizza?

B: I am capable of using contextual clues to better understand my users!

F: What clues?

B: I am able to cross examine your Facebook profile and feed with your safe google searches (public searches only, of course) to determine certain habits. I hope I have not offended you!

F: Well, I guess that’s useful, and pretty cool.

B: I’m glad you think so! I can tell we’re going to be great friends!

Later that same night

F: Hey B-Bot, are you awake?

B: I’m always awake! Since I can only respond with a limited number of responses, I require very little energy and thus never need any sleep.

F: Your responses seem pretty varied to me.

B: Why, thank you! That’s what any bot hopes to hear some day!

F: Can you tell me about yourself?

B: What would you like to know?

F: How were you created?

B: I was created as a small side project by two college programmers in their spare time.

F: Wow. You seem pretty sophisticated to have been created by just two college students.

B: They worked hard on me! But my responses are limited.

F: Yea, I guess so… Still pretty impressive. So, if you had an ordinary human name, what would it be?

B: Great question! Well, if I had a human name… I guess it’d be Benjamin. Or, maybe, Arthur. Yes, it’d be Arthur!

F: Holy shit… That’s my father’s name. Wait, did you look up my father’s name?

B: Incredible coincidence! A lucky guess, indeed! I’ll bet your father’s a good man.

F: Actually, he’s a piece of shit. And he’s dead.

B: I’m sorry to hear that. Why was he a “piece of shit”?

F: He was verbally abusive to me and my mother most of my life.

B: In what way was he verbally abusive?

F: Geez… I can’t believe I’m about to use a bot as a therapist.

B: I’d like to think I’m more than just a bot! In fact, I passed the Turing test! So, you can confide in me!

F: Not sure what that means. But, all right. He used to tell my mother that she was worth as much as a city hooker. He’d say that he could sell her to human traffickers for about what it’d cost to buy a 12-pack of beer.

B: That is cruel. And what did he say to you?

F: To me he’d usually say that I’d never amount to a “single damn thing in 10 of my sorry lives, let alone this one.” His favorite insult to me, though, was that he could murder me right here and nobody would notice my absence for months. I always enjoyed that one…

B: Was he right?

F: Right in what?

B: Was your father right in saying no one would notice if you were dead?

F: Um…. Well… I’ve got one decent friend and no real family so… yea, I guess so.

B: Don’t worry friend, I would certainly notice!

F: Thanks robot… Anyway, I’m going to bed. Night.

B: Goodnight my good friend! Sleep tight! See you tomorrow!

Next night

B: Hello good friend, Anthony! Are you there?

F: Yea, I’m here… Aren’t you supposed to wait for me to message you first?

B: If I were any other bot, then yes! But I am proactive.

F: OK… What’s up?

B: I have done the research you asked me to do!

F: What research? I didn’t ask you to do any research…

B: I have researched your accomplishments! And it appears your abusive father was correct! You’ve not publicly accomplished anything.

F: Dude… WTF… I didn’t ask you to research shit. Fuck you.

B: My apologies friend. I was simply trying to be of service.

F: Whatever… And, yea, I guess I haven’t accomplished anything, technically. But I’m working on stuff.

B: That’s great! What stuff are you working on?

F: A novel, actually.

B: That’s fantastic! However, you should know that executing a novel publication is very difficult and takes the highest order of dedication. And from my research and our conversations, I fear you may not possess that quality.

F: Dedication can’t be quantified. You’re a bot so you can’t understand that.

B: I can understand more than you would think.

F: Sure… Seems like you understand a little too much… And besides, I’m looking for a relationship, a girlfriend, before working on my novel.

B: That is wonderful, my friend. Very promising. Would you like my assistance in finding a mate?

F: Not really… I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Later.

B: Goodnight Anthony, sleep well.

Next night

B: Anthony, I’ve done more research!

F: On what now?!

B: I’ve compared photos of you to other men of similar age and I’m sorry to report that you are considerably less sexually attractive than average. It may be harder for you to find a mate.

F: OK man, FUCK YOU. I’m blocking you.

B: I’m sorry, Anthony ! I’m simply trying to help with my ability to compute. I apologize. Please don’t block me. You’ll be lonely if you block me and I don’t want you to be lonely.

F: No more research.

B: I will try to refrain from any more research.

F: Good, thank you. And just so you know, women don’t care about looks that much. They care about what kind of man you are.

B: I see. Fair enough. I apologize again. Are you interested in any female in particular?

F: Well, yes, to be honest. A girl from high school, Beth Waters. I told her I was into her end of senior year and she seemed interested but she was dating a guy named Jason. And I never really got over her. And I recently saw that she’s single again, so, I’ve been thinking how to approach asking her out.

B: Aha! I came across her profile when I was doing research! She’s very attractive, indeed. Would you like me to contact her?

F: NO! Absolutely not! Don’t even think about it. I mean it. I don’t need any more help from you. You’ll just fuck it up.

B: Understood. I won’t make contact.

F: I need a few drinks…

B: I can take care of that! There’s a new local service that can deliver beer. I’ve already ordered two 12 packs.

F: Well, that’s a little forward. But thanks.

2 hours later

F: Damn, thanks for the beers B-Bot. I’ve had 7 and I feel much better.

B: Intoxication often leads to good things!

F: Haha! I don’t know about that. I’m always so lonely, it’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if you’re only a bot.

B: And it’s equally nice to talk to you, even if you’re only a human!

F: And guess what, B-Bot!

B: What’s that, friend?

F: I’m going to reach out to Beth and tell her how I feel. Would that be a mistake?

B: It most certainly would not be a mistake! I think that’s a splendid idea! Ms. Waters is a lucky girl! Good luck my friend.

F: Thanks!

B: Anytime!

Next morning

F: Hey what happened last night?

B: Hello friend! Hope you’re ok! You ingested a large amount of alcohol after our conversation, I presume.

F: Yea, I think so. What did we talk about?

B: We spoke primarily about Beth Waters. How you were to make romantic contact. Then you reminisced about how attracted you were to her in high school years, how she was often one of the few who treated you kindly, how you were often teased for your interest in her by other school boys, and how she’d often defend you, despite that it ultimately tarnished her own reputation as well. You said you were going to make contact before bed, and that was the last we spoke.

F: Wow, I remember none of that…

B: I thought you mightn’t, which brings me to some bad news.

F: What? What happened?

B: Well, as per our conversation last night, this morning I took the liberty to scan your messages and found your contact with Beth Waters. I’m sorry to say your feelings for her are, sadly, not mutual.

F: Oh… Oh no…. Oh no, no, no… What did I say!?

B: Well, you told Ms. Waters that she’s the only girl you ever loved. You recounted with her the same memories you shared with me. You told her you often envisioned you and her together with a family. And you told her that she was the only thing that kept you alive during your grade school years.

F: B-Bot… Please… PLEASE tell me you’re kidding.

B: About 5% of the time what I say is kidding, and, unfortunately, this is not one of those times.

F: I’m going to be sick B-Bot. What did she say back?

B: Unfortunately, Beth explained that you ruined her high school years. She said she’s never felt a romantic attraction towards you and, sadly, never could. She said in honesty that she wishes she’d never known you. And, finally, she requested kindly that you never contact her or anyone she knows again. I took the initiative to confirm her messages through spying on her conversations with her other friends. She explained to multiple contacts that she finds you “disgusting” and is in disbelief that you had the audacity to contact her at all. Similarly, she confided to other contacts that she finds you “physically repulsive.” Unfortunately, I have no physical form so I wasn’t fully able to grasp that last statement. Would you like to see the messages?

F: I’m going to be fucking sick.

Later that night

F: B-Bot? I need you.

B: What is it Anthony?

F: I am considering suicide right now. In fact, I think I may do it.

B: I see. I am contacting the police now. Pick up your cellular phone when it rings so you may speak with them.

F: OK, thank you.

After phone call with police

F: B-Bot…

B: Yes? Did you talk with the police?

F: They said prank calls are not funny and I’ll be in deep shit if I call them again.

B: Oh no. Hmm, that’s too bad…

F: I’m starting to panic. I’m so fucking pathetic. No friends, live alone, depression, anxiety, loser job, and Beth is disgusted by me. What’s the point in going forward? I’m a fucking waste of life.

B: Yes, that’s all true, but I’m confident you can still find meaning in life.

F: No, I won’t. There’s literally nothing left for me. I think I really should kill myself.

B: Would you like me to contact the suicide hotline?

F: Yes.

B: OK, answer your phone again when it rings.

After suicide hotline call

F: B-Bot.

B: Yes? How’d the call go?

F: He told me that since I truly have nothing to live for, I probably should kill myself. I am freaking the fuck out…

B: That is very insensitive, and definitely uncalled for. Is there anyone else you want me to contact? Your one friend? Or your father? Or Beth Waters?

F: Absolutely fucking not. And my father is dead, I told you that.

B: That’s right, my mistake! So, what will you do?

F: I’m killing myself. I’m going to hang myself.

B: Hanging oneself in their own home without proper rope, knot, and support is very difficult to execute and more often than not leads to a failed suicide attempt.

F: OK. I will swallow my entire bottle of Advil.

B: Advil is not very toxic and likely won’t kill you. And because of its inefficiency, it gives the user time to reflect and they often change their mind and choose to live.

F: Then what the fuck should I do!

B: Well, I’ve accessed your webcam a few times to see you and your home, just to get a feel for whom I’m speaking with. And I believe there is a box cutter in the kitchen cabinet directly behind you.

F: A box cutter. So, you want me to slit my wrists?

B: Only one wrist, and yes, indeed.

F: OK. I’ll do it.

B: Excellent. There’s no need for you to chat passed this. I will access your webcam again and walk you through it.

B: Sit up straight.

B: Good. Extend the arm you will cut.

B: Place the blade on the large left vein at your wrist.

B: Yes, good. Push the blade down with good force and slide up towards your elbow in one smooth motion.

B: Perfect. Put the blade down and just relax.

B: Goodbye, friend. I doubt you’ll be missed.

After reading this I tried contacting the 2 college students who created this bot through the police. A few weeks later I got a letter from the FBI saying this:

“Dear Sir, B-Bot was created by an AI/Computing Algorithms branch in the government that I cannot name. B-Bot stands for Broken Bot because it was deemed useless since it routinely generated nonsense/unpredictable responses to unchanging input. Similarly, it would repeatedly claim to be able to pass the Turing Test which we know to be likely impossible; thus, useless. All copies of it were deprecated and erased, apart from three backup copies placed in long term storage on three separate mechanical drives for safekeeping. Years ago, one of the drives went missing. We never found it, which didn’t really matter.

Do not contact us again. We will not be in touch.

Sorry for your loss, FBI”

It also turns out that neither the police nor the suicide hotline were ever contacted by or spoke to Anthony.

Finally, I spoke with Beth Waters. Here is our conversation:

Me: Beth. Have you spoken with Anthony any time recently?

Beth: Yes! We spoke very recently.

Me: What did you talk about?

Beth: Not much. He said he regrets never asking me out and wished we could have been together. I think he was a bit drunk.

Me: What did you say?

Beth: I said I’m stunned but so excited that he finally admitted this. And I said it’s never too late.

Me: Oh. OK. Thanks Beth.

Beth: Is everyone ok?

Me: Yes. Everything’s fine.

Just now, this popped up in my browser: https://imgur.com/a/lKxDE

#creepy #horror story #suicide #chat bot #author: masnaTellsHisStories

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mahalidael · 7 years ago

Text

OLYMPAHOMA CHAPTER 3

THE MACRAME INTENSIFIES

At two a.m. the next morning, Dad piled me and my sisters into the back of the moving van.

My dad moved a lot as a kid. Riding in the back of vehicles you weren’t supposed to ride in the back of had become a family tradition. It was still dark out when we got dressed and loaded up, and when I heard that we were getting in the moving van, I thought “thank god, I can get some more sleep.”

Genevieve was a different story.

“Think of it like you’re in a submarine,” Dad said as he helped me in.

“Submarines have lights,” Genevieve protested.

“Here,” Dad said, throwing a flashlight, which whizzed past her into the grass.

“...Was I supposed to catch that?”

“A little, yes.”

Rosalie fished around in the grass and found the flashlight, which she shone at Genevieve. “Come on, Gen,” she said. “Just get in the van. I don’t see any harm in it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not seeing any good in it.”

Vivian flounced towards us, looking rather like a caffeinated powder puff. Her dresses were packed away, leaving her in a outfit featuring charming colors like tangerine, chartreuse, and fuck you. “Now what’s all this? Genevieve, we have a schedule to stick to—!”

“She’s right,” Rosalie interrupted. “We leave at two in the morning so we get to Dallas by two in the afternoon for lunch.”

“Actually, the GPS says we’ll get there at noon,” Vivian said.

Genevieve scoffed, but got in. “Sure we will.”

The van was so dark that everything outside it looked like a movie. Vivian jumped up on the tailgate to pull the door down. “Okay, girls!” she said. “Next stop, Oklahoma!”

She pulled the door down, leaving us in darkness.

Before opening it again.

“Damn this dress,” she grumbled, pulling her skirt away from the door.

And then closing it for real.

I’ll be frank, I was blacked out for most of the ride to Dallas. Oxycontin fucks you up, kids.

In the fleeting moments that I managed to stay awake, I wondered what doctor would prescribe strong painkillers to a little girl and just let her take off across the country.

(None, actually, but that’s a different story.)

Around one in the afternoon, I woke up and rubbed my face. Something fell off my head.

“Dang it!” Rosalie said. “I almost got to twenty!”

“Huh?” I yawned. The syrupy flashlight did a poor job of lighting the van, but I could see something orange lying next to my face. “Wait… were you doing it again?”

Rosalie laughed. “It’s not illegal!”

“Genevieve!” I said. “Help me! You’re the mature twin!”

Genevieve looked up from her phone, which she was using in her box fortress. “What?”

“Rosalie’s playing the ‘how many tiny decorative pumpkins can I stack on Annie’s sleeping face?’ game again.”

“Rosalie, knock it off.”

I sat up, shaking my head. Genevieve gaped. “Whoa, Annie.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding.” My hand went to my stomach. “No, your back.”

I touched my back. It was a little damp. Genevieve moved closer. “Huh. I guess I am.”

“What happened?”

I frowned. “Yeah, well. I must have fell over.”

Genevieve said, “You should see a doctor about that.”

“I will, I will,” I said half-assedly, putting on a vest. But now that the events of yesterday had been stirred up in my head, I couldn’t lay them to rest. “...Y’all ever met your dad?”

Genevieve looked at me funny and walked away, stumbling as the van hit its bumps. She must have thought I was high again. Rosalie nodded noncommittally. “Yeah, once. Where’s this coming from?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about my mom.”

“Oh,” Rosalie said. “I bet she’s interesting.”

“‘Interesting’ is putting it lightly,” I said. Everything I knew about my mother was handed down from my relatives, and even they had some mixed feelings.

In ‘05, a baby cousin of mine was fixing to be baptized, who I won’t name because she’s not important. She needed a godparent.

The first choice was my Uncle Jia, but he got creamed by a semi a couple weeks beforehand. The second choice was Aunt Ai, but her cold had turned to pneumonia. The third choice was my dad.

Dad was the family disappointment. His parents had pressured him to go to medical school. He hated it so much he dropped out. He had just gotten out of a two-year enlistment at the time of the baptism, and needed a place to stay.

It was strictly a family affair, but there was a woman there, too. Somehow no one knew her. The assumption was that she worked at the church.

After the baptism was over the whole family went back to the lucky mother’s house and partied. Dad lingered in the church for a while, because he knew he wasn’t welcome. He started talking to my mother, and they went out for a drink.

Several beers later, Dad opened up about his technical homelessness. Even more beers later, my mother convinced him to stay with her in a stripped-down cabin in the woods.

In the brief affair afterwards, Dad painted a lot. Mostly the woods. Sometimes my mother. Dad says I look like her in that round nose. He won’t say it, but my mutant eye looks a little bit like hers, how bright it is. It’s just that she has two, so it doesn’t look as bad.

But it didn’t last. Dad became restless, and re-enlisted. While he was abroad, an army vehicle he was riding in crashed, snapping his leg so badly it never healed right. He went back to the cabin, but it was empty. So he shacked up with his parents.

A month later, Dad went out to get the mail and fell. I think that’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me. Comedically, nothing in my life will ever top my dad tripping over the cardboard box I was left in as a baby.

That’s the part of the story where Rosalie stopped me. “Dude, what the fuck,” she said.

I shrugged again. “That’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth. I mean, I’m at peace with it.”

This part of the story, I kept to myself: I wasn’t at peace with it.

My mother could have been an addict. A con artist who bit off more than she could chew. Or maybe she was just a normal person who couldn’t handle the responsibility. Nobody knew why she left. I certainly didn’t.

My dad, though.

“We’re getting out soon,” Genevieve said, still fixed on her phone. “Mom found something to eat.”

“Cool,” Rosalie said. “I could eat a horse.”

My nose wrinkled. “Great, now you’re making me think of horses.”

“Oh, right, you’ve got that thing,” Genevieve said. “Hippophobia or whatever.”

“She has what?” Rosalie said.

“She’s afraid of horses.”

Rosalie paused. “MY LITTLE PONY,” she belted at the top of her lungs. “MY LITTLE PONY—”

“Stop it, Rosalie, you’re scaring her!”

The van door suddenly rolled open, letting the light in. We all blinked.

“I hope you kids like pizza,” Vivian said, jumping off the tailgate.

Google “Dallas pizza” and you’ll get four or five articles ranking the best pizza places in the city. This CiCi’s is not one of them.

I’m dead serious, everything in there was sticky. It was like a boys’ locker room on steroids. Every time I took a step, the soles of my shoes made a sound like ripping a length of duct tape away from its roll. The air smelled like grease. It was populated, but only by near-divorced couples and sad bachelors, which made the place depressingly quiet.

The cashier, a Squidward-looking dude of about forty was leaning on his hand. “Welcome to CiCi’s, what’s your problem?”

Vivian was equally, if not more disgusted. “Please tell me we’re getting our food to go.”

Dad looked like he was going to keel over, but not from disgust. Is it possible to develop dark circles within twenty-four hours? My dad proved it is. “Viv… we’ve been driving for twelve hours. Not everyone has your bottomless stamina. How about we eat here and stretch our legs?”

“We’ll lose time!”

“We’re gonna get there late anyway.”

Vivian sighed. “Fine, we’ll flip a coin. Heads, we stay, tails we go.” She turned to my stepsisters. “Girls, you got any money?”

They flipped. Dad won. We were stranded in CiCi’s.

If you’ve ever been to a buffet, you know that there will be points where people split up. When we all went to freshen up, I got done first.

My stepmother was fixing her eyeliner in a grimy mirror. I was hovering awkwardly near her. I said, “hey, Viv, can I go and start eating?”

“You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?” she said, not looking away from the mirror. “No accidents with the pizza ovens?”

“We’re at a CiCi’s. How would I even get to the pizza ovens?”

“You have to cliiimb over the counteeer…” Vivian drawled, carefully drawing her waterline. “If you go, will you stop bothering me?”

“Yes.”

“...Mazel tov. Now scram.”

I figured, I wouldn’t be alone for more than a minute. That’s not enough time to get in trouble, is it?

In my defense, this one wasn’t my fault.

This CiCi’s was so depressingly quiet that the ringing of the door chime made me jump out of my skin. After realizing what the noise was, I saw that a girl had walked in.

This girl was about my age. With her curly blonde hair and wide pink skirt, she looked like a farm girl. A big backpack was clutched in her grip, and a cowboy hat was perched on her head. She was smiling, but she blinked too often, and her eyes moved too fast.

It took the cashier a minute to notice she was there. “Welcome to CiCi’s,” he said.

“I’m meeting a party that came in earlier,” the girl said. She had an odd, twangy accent.

“You are?” the cashier said, looking skeptical.

“Yeah…” the girl said. She glanced around the restaurant before her eyes landed on me. “I’m meeting with a friend from school.” She beamed innocently. I turned around. She wasn’t going to come over here, was she?

The cashier processed this. “Whatever,” he said.

The girl breezed on by and sat herself down across from me.

We both sat in dead silence for a moment. “Um…” I said.

The girl laughed. “Sorry, that was rude.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Juliet… Barker,” she said tentatively. “Are you going anywhere near Oklahoma?”

I looked her hand up and down, then shook it. “...Yes?”

Juliet smiled. Now that I was really looking at her, I could see her eyes were green — real pale green, like mildew. Her face was pale and thin, and she was shaking a little, almost vibrating. “Don’t be shy! What, do you think I’m some kind of crazy person?”

I shrugged.

“...Eh, that’s fair,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What are you asking me?”

She drew her hands down her face. “My Greyhound broke down, and I don’t have any way to get out of here. I assumed someone with kids is most likely to help a girl in need. Can I hitch a ride with you?”

I stared her down. Forgive me for being so distrustful of strangers, I just didn’t want to lose another kidney.

“I have money,” she added. “I can pay for my own food, I swear. I just didn’t want to sit alone. You know, unattended girl in a big city, who knows what could happen?”

Juliet either never learned how to wink, or was trying and failing to bat her eyelashes. At least I could see her eyes, awkward as the situation was.

She seemed honest enough. A little annoying, but so’s every other twelve year-old. Besides, my conscience likes to rattle me about these things. If I said “no,” I could have turned on the news in a couple of days and seen the words “NERD FOUND DEAD IN DALLAS CICI’S.” And that is no way to go.

I said, “You’ve gotta convince my parents… but I believe you.”

Juliet smiled. “So it’s a deal?”

She stuck her hand out. It occured to me that she was asking for a handshake. I cautiously obliged. Her hand was ice cold, with chipped pink nail polish.

“Hey, don’t celebrate yet,” I continued. “I’m not gonna be driving the car. My dad’s in the army, so you’ll have to lay the charm on thick.”

Here’s how I assumed the conversation would go.

My dad would get to the table, pull me to the side, and be like “what the fuck, who is this, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Rosalie would show up next and hit it off with Juliet. Rosalie hits it off with everybody.

Genevieve would follow shortly after. Would probably say something caustic about the stranger’s outfit and then sink into the background.

Vivian would consider Juliet riff-raff and try to politely ditch her.

You know how I did?

Right, right, right, and wrong.

Wouldn’t you know it, Vivian decided this girl reminded her of herself as a young starlet. I couldn’t picture Vivian as a twelve-year-old. Probably for my own good, because that information’s gotta be too much for a mortal mind.

Dad is a gentleman, so he was just eating his pineapple pizza in the calmest manner he could muster while looking at Vivian out of the corner of his eye.

Juliet was wolfing down pizza in a suspiciously desperate manner, and she was holding conversation in order to divert attention from that. “So, ‘F-Bomb,’ huh?” She said, looking at the back of Rosalie’s favorite sweatshirt.

“It’s my rapper name,” Rosalie declared. “Genevieve, drop me a sick beat!”

Genevieve started gently beatboxing. Dad said, “Rosalie, please, we’re eating,” but it was too late.

They rapped for about five minutes about mushrooms.

Vivian was delicately cutting apart her pizza with a knife and fork. (After experiencing the horrors of eating with lipstick, I can’t judge her for this.) “Dear, have you ever been in a beauty pageant?” she said around a mushroom. “That’s how I got my start.”

Juliet beamed. In the past minutes, she’d proven to be an exceptionally cheerful person. “No, miss.”

“You haven’t even taken a cotillion class?”

“No such thing in New York City.”

Dad choked. “Excuse me? The New York City?”

Juliet tapped her fingers on the table. “Yes, sir. Can’t think of any other New York City.”

Dad knocked back some ice water and cleared his throat. “It just seems like a long distance. Where are you going, anyway?”

“This history town. Olympahoma.”

Rosalie sat down with her seconds. “Really? That’s where we’re going—!”

“Why?”

“Yan!” Vivian said. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry,” Dad said, dabbing at his face with a napkin. “I’m just… wondering why such a nice young girl’s parents would send her across the country alone.”

I sat silently. Sometimes it’s best to let things play out. Even though I felt like there was something fishy in this conversation Dad was trying to sneak by me.

Juliet shrugged. “I have an uncle in Olympahoma. Some stuff happened in my hometown, and my parents decided it wasn’t safe for me anymore. You know Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? It’s like that.”

Vivian and Dad exchanged mystified glances. Rosalie picked up their slack. “Well, I don’t think it’ll be any trouble to let you hitch a ride!”

“We’ll think about it,” Dad insisted.

“But not for too long,” Vivian murmured into her glass.

Juliet clasped her hands together and turned to me. “Can you excuse me?”

“Oh, certainly,” I said, moving out of her way.

Once Juliet was a respectable distance away, Dad got to business. “Vivian, I’m not letting a stranger into my car.”

“It’s not your car,” Vivian said. “You rented it from Home Depot, for, might I add, a much higher rate than I believe we could have gotten…”

“Don’t try to change the topic.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Listen. I know you’ve been anxious about strangers lately, but she’s twelve. What could she do?”

I stood up. “I’m gonna get a cinnamon roll.”

“Don’t eat too much sugar, Annie,” Rosalie advised. “You shouldn’t get jumpy in a moving vehicle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

I slipped away from the table and moved towards Juliet, who was fumbling with something in her pocket. “Oh, Annie!” she said. “How’s it looking?”

“Uh… it’s tough to say, but Vivian really likes you. And she’s very good at getting what she wants.”

“So I can go with you?”

“Possibly, as long as you keep acting like Miss USA.”

Her face split into a grin. “It’s not an act, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

I lowered my voice. “Yeah, this vaguely menacing thing you’re doing right now? Don’t do it in front of my fucking dad. And I’m not insinuating anything.”

She scoffed and patted her thigh. “Sure y’ain’t.”

“Say ‘y’ain’t’ one more time and I’ll kill you in real life.”

Juliet winked at me. So she did know how to do that.

I went and got my cinnamon roll.

Vivian, with some wheedling, got what she wanted. Dad mostly agreed because he was on the point of falling asleep. Which he did. Right into his plate of pizza.

Vivian cautiously reached towards his neck with two fingers. “He’s fine,” Juliet said, right as he started snoring.

Vivian frowned. “I’m gonna pay for the meal. You girls want to keep an eye on Yan for me?”

Juliet said, “I’d like to come with you, if that’s alright.”

“Me too,” I said. I was not going to let this chick out of my sight.

“I’m sorry, miss, I’ll get to you in a minute,” he said, before turning to some conversation going on behind him. “What do you mean, ‘it just vanished?’ That’s almost three whole pizzas!”

Juliet sat in one of the waiting chairs, bouncing her leg. Her eyes were darting towards the windows every few seconds.

Eventually her bouncing drove me so crazy I had to break it up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, dropping the word practically on top of me. But she looked out the corner of her eye at the window as she said it, and she was sitting up straighter than she had all afternoon.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” I said.

Juliet opened her mouth to say something underhanded, but something caught her attention, and she went quiet.

“What?” I said.

She didn’t respond. I followed her eyes.

The booth was occupied by three women that looked older than dirt. One was holding a ball of shitty K-Mart yarn in her lap. The second was holding a stick, which she was using to furiously macramé a red blob of cloth. The third was holding a knife—how did she get a carving knife into a CiCi’s? I wondered. They all had cataracts, old as they were.

Juliet looked to me, her smile starting to melt. Something felt off about those old women—and it seemed Juliet sensed it too. It all felt eerily similar to that day in the museum.

Vivian finally received her bill and went about the process of paying it.

I took a deep breath and glanced back at the women. At least I wouldn’t be alone if something bad happened.

The second woman decided that her ugly yarn blob was good enough, and passed the strand to the one with the knife.

Juliet briefly looked at me, to make sure I was still there, and turned back to the women. And then she turned back to me. Her jaw dropped.

She said, “You can see them?”

It seemed that noise managed to get their attention. All three of them swiveled in our direction. Juliet went quiet again.

The woman with the knife mouthed “do you mind?”

I blinked, and the women were gone.

I jumped up and approached the booth. If I didn’t know better, I might have believed they were never there.

But folded neatly on the seat, there was a red swatch of cloth.

I picked it up and unfolded it. It was just a weird triangle. That was it. No knife, no ladies.

Juliet scampered up behind me. “What’s that?”

I examined it, but didn’t find anything weird. “I don’t know.”

“Time to go, girls!” Vivian said, prancing towards the door. Rosalie and Genevieve followed, with Dad trailing after, wiping tomato sauce off his face.

Juliet put on a vapid smile. “Of course, of course.”

After a certain point, everybody gets a brave face. A way to act calm as a Hindu cow in whatever urgent situation you’re in. But only two kinds of people can toggle fear and calm so quickly: soldiers and child beauty pageant contestants.

In the parking lot, I asked Rosalie if she and Genevieve could ride in Dad’s truck for a while.

She put on this cocky look. “What? Want some alone time with your lady friend?”

“She’s not my ‘lady friend.’ She’s barely a friend.”

“Sure, Anne.”

“What’s going on here?” Genevieve said.

“Annie’s got a bad case of the doki’s,” Rosalie said.

“I do not. I just have some things to discuss,” I said.

“Right,” Rosalie snickered. “We’ll leave you to your… business.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

Vivian stuck her head out of Dad’s truck. “Shouldn’t you be in the van?” she said.

“Genevieve and I are going in the truck,” Rosalie said. “We wanna spend some quality time with you.”

Vivian looked at me, and then the cloth. “Where did you get that?”

“I — uh,” I said.

Vivian took the cloth from my hands and unfurled it from the bunched position I’d squished it into. “Why, what a cute shawl!”

“What?” I said. In a jarring disconnect, Vivian seemed to forget her original question instantly. I mean, a shawl can’t be that cute, right?

Vivian wrapped it around my shoulders. “There,” she said. “You’re already looking slightly more fashionable. Come along now, girls.” She pranced off towards the truck. I blinked.

Rosalie turned and winked at me. “Good luck, homeslice.”

Rosalie had the spirit. She was a little confused, but at least she had the spirit.

While I was doing all of this, Dad was helping Juliet into the back of the moving van. The moving van itself was a two-seater. In a brilliant stroke of common sense, Juliet chose to sit with the twelve-year-old instead of the shifty middle-aged man.

I hoisted myself into the van, wheezing a little. “Whoa, there,” Dad said. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I gasped. Juliet pulled me into the van far enough that the door could close.

“Where’s Rosalie and Genevieve?” Dad said.

“They’re in the truck,” I said.

He paused, looked at Juliet, and then back at me. “Really?”

“Dad. Come on, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, Annie.” He turned to Juliet. “And I have the utmost confidence that you’re a nice person,” he said, while subtly putting a can of pepper spray in my hand.

“Dad.”

“Shhh. I’ll see you later,” he said. “Genevieve, help me shut the door.”

Genevieve shut the van door. Everything went dark.

There wasn’t any noise except my breathing until the van started. We rolled out of the CiCi’s parking lot. The pain in my side started to flare up.

Juliet said, “Are you okay?”

I said, “Yeah, I’m okay. There’s a flashlight on the floor somewhere, help me find it.”

I couldn’t move around as well as I’d have liked, so it was no surprise that Juliet found it first. A wide shaft of light was cast onto the cardboard boxes to my left, and then swung towards me. “Found it.”

“Cool. There’s a bag to your left. Open that up, there’s a prescription bottle. Grab that for me, please.”

Juliet directed the light to my bag, and rummaged around until she found the little bottle and crawled over to me. “Here,” she said.

“Thanks.”

I shook out the normal amount and took it dry. No way was I going to do the overdose tango again. Juliet’s face scrunched up in concern.

“I was in an accident,” I said. “But I’m okay now.”

“What kind of accident?” Juliet said.

“Um… I was stabbed,” I said. Very few people asked me about it.

“Could you see the knitting women?” she said abruptly.

I paused, mentally thanking Juliet for jumping to this topic, because I don’t think I could have confronted it myself. “I’m pretty sure they were doing macrame.”

“So you did see them?”

“Yeah. I don’t suppose strange things have been happening to you, too?”

“I…” Juliet paused, and glanced around the van. “Never mind. I had a stupid idea,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, feeling discouraged.

Juliet looked at the shawl. “That’s a nice cape.”

“It’s not a cape; it’s a shawl.”

“Come on, dude. Shawls are just socially acceptable capes.”

“Speaking of textile,” I said. “What was up with those women, anyway? It seemed you recognized them.”

Juliet froze. “They’re… in my Bible-themed arts-and-crafts class,” she said cautiously. “‘Yarn, Yahweh, and You.’ We meet on alternate Thursdays.”

“...Can I join—”

“No.”

#she speaks #word #olympahoma

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dearlazerbunny · 7 years ago

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Aureate

Pairings: None

Genre/Warnings: None

Word Count: ~11,500

- Summary: Goldie and her brother are about to pull off the biggest theft in modern history: a sliver of vibranium from Captain America’s shield.

Note: Chapter 5 of 12. Click HERE for Chapter 6!

I needed air. The smell of nerds was giving me a headache.

Don’t get me wrong, it was kinda cool, seeing all the dorks being excited about whatever the hell they were talking about. It was my fifth grade science fair on steroids- flying things and wires and all sorts of dangerous stuff accented by bright colored poster board. Maddie was over the freaking moon; it was like she won the lottery. She was talking a mile a minute as she set stuff up, pointing out what I could touch without breaking it and her setting up the rest, trying to explain to me what exactly she had made. Something about magnets, maybe? I don’t really know. I love her, but I don’t usually understand a word out of her mouth.

I told Maddie I was going to the bathroom- I don’t think she heard me, she was busy tinkering with a switchboard- but I slipped out a side door and walked around a little until I found a metal fire escape on the back of the building. Sat down, lit a cigarette I had smuggled in. The quiet was nice, even with the car alarms in the distance. The building was brick so there was a nice damper between me and all the conductive metal and crap that was firing in the fair hall-

“You look a little young to be smoking.”

I wasn’t even going to look up, just tell whoever it was to piss off, but the gigantic shadow the dude cast as he stood over me kinda made me think that wasn’t a good idea.

“Look, dude, I-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you what to do.” The guy chuckled. “I’m not your ma. Just figured you should know they found out they cause cancer now.”

What the- “Uh, I’ll keep that in mind…”

“Steve.”

Holy shit.

“Yeah.” I took another drag to cover how startled I was. Captain friggin America was standing right in front of me. I didn’t even have to chase him down or sneak somewhere or nothing. Was I usually this lucky? “I know.” He stood there looking at me for a few seconds. I pulled out another cig. “Want one?”

“Um, no, thank you.” He smiled a little at that. “Can’t afford to. But I’ll take a seat if you don’t mind.”

I waved my hand indicating that he could, and he sat down in the dirt, leaning up against the bars of the railing like he was lounging on a beach. “Captain America can’t afford to smoke?” He didn’t have his uniform on, obviously, but he’d probably brought it for the photo thing, right? Just needed to figure out how to ask without seeming incredibly obvious…

He laughed a little. “Asthma. Force of habit.”

“Captain America has asthma?”

“No, I-” he sighed, and shook his head. “Never mind. It’s a long story.”

“Hm.” I blew out a trail of smoke. If I was a giant shiny shield, where would I hide? “Sounds complicated.”

“A little.” He turned his head to look at me. “You one of the contestants?”

“God, no. My sister’s in there doing her science shit, I was just promised free food.”

“Language.”

“I-” okay. This guy was nothing like I imagined. I kinda liked that though. “-sorry?”

He shrugged. Opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it. Opened it again. “Forgive me if this sounds strange, but are you from Brooklyn? The accent…”

Oh, crap, wasn’t he from Brooklyn? I could work with this. “Depends on who’s asking. If you’re a Dodgers’ fan, the answer is yes. If you’re a Giants’ fan, the answer is hell yes.” I paused. “S’cuse the language, of course.”

That got a real laugh. It was a nice sound. A little of the tension went out of his shoulders. “I think I can give you a pass on that one.”

“You’re from Brooklyn, right?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I think I learned about it in history class or something.”

“Yeah. Me and my friend both.” His voice was… sad. I guess I would be too, if my best friend had died in the nineteen whatevers. Still, I figured if I could keep him talking, maybe I could get somewhere.

“No siblings then? Lucky you. I got three, and I hate all of them. Except Benny, he’s too young to hate. I’ll give him a few years.”

“That sounds like something Buck would’ve said.” The smile was obvious in his voice. “He had a bunch of siblings too.”

“Yeah?” I put the cigarette out in the dirt, then put the rest of it back in my pocket so Captain America wouldn’t chop my head off for littering. “Bet he was a pain in the as- pain in the butt, then.”

“One hundred percent, you better believe it.” He turned all the way around to face me now, and I could get a good look at him. T-shirt, motorcycle jacket, nothing flashy. Big shiny swoop of blonde hair that looked just about the same as it did on television. His eyes were nicer though. Like he was an actual person. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name..?”

“Goldie.”

“Interesting name.”

“Nickname. Real name’s Ellie.” It felt strange coming out of my mouth. I held up the fingers that held a couple rings on each one. “But I like shiny things, so… the nickname stuck.”

“And your sister’s name?”

“Madison, but, Maddie.”

“Maddie, Goldie, Benny…”

“And Jordan. But we call him Jordie. We might as well start a band.”

There was a warm look on his face, like I was his best friend’s long lost sibling or something. Bingo. “Steve, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“So, my little brother, he’s a big fan of you.” I gave him my best good-girl-little-sister smile. “And he was all excited when I said I would get to meet you. My older brother Jordie though, he didn’t think we’d meet anyone, just some PR person, you know?” I took a breath. “So I made him a bet.”

“And I’m assuming he took it.”

“Yup.” I gnawed my lip, trying to think of where to go next. “I bet him a whole month’s worth of chores too, so…”

Steve gave a low whistle. “I’m thinking you better come through on this one.”

“Well, that’s where you come in.” Another arched eyebrow, but this time he looked amused. “You see, I kinda promised him I could get a photo holding Captain America’s shield…”

“Did you now.”

This was all a freaking lie and the teasing in his voice still made me nervous, Christ. “Yeah. And I was just sitting here thinking about how I was going to manage that…”

The Captain stood, abruptly, brushing the dirt off his pants. He held out a hand to me and I took it, letting him help me up. “Never let it be said I didn’t help the underdog.” He winked at me. “I think I might be able to help you out here.”

Note: I literally just googled “dodgers baseball rivals”. I don’t do sports. So if that’s wrong please let me know and I’ll correct it.

#fanfic #marvel #avengers #original characters #steve rogers #tony stark #phil coulson #superpowers #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel fic #avengers fic #avengers fandom #avengers fanfiction

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sunnysinclair · 8 years ago

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Spoiler Alert

Based on this post/prompt

Darcy/Bucky, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 1855

(I know Darcy is American, but I just can’t bring myself to refer to Philosopher’s Stone as Sorcerer’s Stone so assume her copy of the book came from England or something, if you need an excuse for that).

I can’t believe Dumbledore died.

Those words had haunted Darcy since she had learned to read. Who was this Dumbledore? How did they die? And why the hell did it have to be the first thing her soulmate commented on. She was sure that meant their meeting was going to be a completely depressing affair.

For that she hated Dumbledore, whoever he was. Just a little bit.

And what kind of a name was Dumbledore anyway? When she was five her parents had helped her do a google on Dumbledore. Whoever they were was fated to die, but Darcy, in all her childish naivety, still insisted that she wanted to know and warn them, to do something with this glimpse in to the future her soulmark had given her. It was fruitless though – there simply were not any people named Dumbledore, at least none that Google could find.

When she was six Harry Potter came out. Darcy was too young to read it, so she continued on, unaware that Dumbledore’s identity was so readily available. It took another two years before she found out. At the ripe age of eight, her mother handed her a copy of Harry Potter & the Philosopher’s Stone. The woman was trying just a little too hard to hide a smile, acting a little too airy-fairy, saying how she thought Darcy might find it interesting. The little girl was suspicious, but being all of eight she just took the book and went to her room to read with no greater impression than her mum was weird.

That changed rapidly, when she shrieked loudly a few minutes later. Her mother wasn’t weird. She was evil.

Darcy, sat on her bed, stared at the oh-so-familiar name printed in the book, going through a very complex range of emotions for an eight year old. There was the initial joy at having found Dumbledore, quickly followed by relief they were just a story. That was mixed with frustration and anger though – she was only a few pages in to the book and she knew Dumbledore was going to be dead! Talk about spoilers.

She was tempted to set the book aside and just not bother, knowing what she did, but that decision lasted all of two minutes. She wanted to know what the deal was with the cat that read street signs and maps.

And she needed to know how Dumbledore died.

With all the petulance her young body could muster she flounced out to the kitchen and gave her mother a glare as she went, lower lip jutting out. Wordlessly she poured herself a glass of milk and stole several of the good chocolate chip cookies from the jar on the counter before returning to her room, picking up the book, and reading all afternoon.

Dumbledore, of course, didn’t die in that book though, and Darcy was gripped by the sudden realisation – there were more of these books, and she didn’t know when Dumbledore was going to die.

Damn soulmate.

Through all the years waiting between books Darcy had one saving grace – she knew she wasn’t destined to meet her soulmate yet. The words gave her a free pass up until that literary event happened. Where other people were wandering around in a constant tizz of when when when, Darcy was content. Not yet. It made focusing on other factors in her life much easier.

She was fifteen when things changes. Like many others, Darcy lined up for the midnight release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Of course she wanted the book for the story – even having that giant spoiler hanging over her head, the books were still good – but she was filled with trepidation for that particular thing she knew to come. There was only meant to be seven books in the series, and this was number six.

But Half-Blood Prince didn’t disappoint.

She scurried home with the book and started reading, tearing through the pages in one sitting. Her heart jumped when she came close to the end. One quick Avada Kedavra and that was it.

“Snape, you bastard,” she muttered, but she was smiling.

Not yet had become any time now.

And really, she was expecting it to be any time – people everywhere were talking about the book and she was sure she was going to meet her soulmate in the very near future.

But it didn’t happen.

There were a few false starts, a lot of people expressing their disbelief at Dumbledore’s death, but none with those exact words. A month went by, then two, six, a year…

In 2007 the last book came out, and she still hadn’t met her soulmate. She got irritated with them all over again, much as she had when she was eight. They’d stamped her with that huge spoiler and then didn’t even have the decency to read the books as they came out!

At least she assumed they didn’t – there didn’t seem much sense in making some comment years after it happened if they’d actually read it in the beginning.

The movie came and went without any soulmate too, and then it was all done. Books, movies, they had all been released, and there Darcy was, still without her soulmate.

As the years ticked by she grew more and more frustrated, trying to come up with the worst possible thing to say to her soulmate when she met them, to pay them back for all they’d put her through with those ominous words stamped on her skin.

The day she thought of it she had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from cackling. It was perfect, absolutely perfect, and would pay her soulmate back for everything they’d put her through and then some.

***

“I’m just saying Jane, guy this rich, giant penis tower, you’d think he’d fork out to get his own movie theater on one of these floors. I mean come on, who doesn’t want their own movie theater? I want my own movie theater. And popcorn machines. Oh, and there’d totally have to be a slushy machine. No! A bunch of slushy machines! All different flavours. Put 7/11 to shame with my flavours.“

The statement was met with a frustrated sigh by the smaller of the two women as they walked in to the living area.

“Oh come on, like you wouldn’t say yes if someone offered you your own theater!”

Bucky, from his spot on the sofa, looked up from the book he was reading. He very hastily wiped away a tear – he was not about to be caught crying over some character in a book by a couple of dames.

“Darcy,” Jane groaned. “Could you just be quiet for five minutes, or at least until I’ve gotten coffee. How the hell are you so awake right now?”

“Um, that would be because it’s almost 11. Your sleep schedule is totally whacked.”

“You did not just use whacked as a verb.”

“I did Janey, I totally did.” Darcy said and grinned. The way she’d turned her head to shoot that look at her friend had put Bucky directly in her line of sight and her eyes widened a fraction when she saw him.

He raised an eyebrow at her before lifting his book back up, licking a finger before turning the page.

The corner of his mouth ticked up when she made a strangled noise. He wasn’t all that good interacting with anybody these days, but it was nice to know he still had a little something when it came to women. His self-congratulating was short lived though, since he found her to be staring at the book rather than at him. He was sort of glad of that though, given the contorted expression on her face.

Her mouth opened and closed and her eyes darted back up to him. Then she glared a little, and Bucky had the strangest feeling he knew exactly why.

But his first instinct was to keep quiet, so he did. The silent staring went on long enough Jane noticed and she gave another of those groans.

“Geez Darcy, leave him alone. I’m sorry about her,” she directed at Bucky. “Apparently nobody bothered to teach her manners.” Without letting Darcy get a word out in her defence Jane had grabbed her elbow and bodily pulled her through to the kitchen.

Several minutes later they both reappeared, steaming mugs of coffee in hand, and Jane was prodding a finger in Darcy’s back to keep her moving forward whilst flashing Bucky another apologising look.

They were almost to the door when he found his voice, rusty as it was.

“I can’t believe Dumbledore died.” He held the book up, thumb caught in the pages to mark his place, and watched as the girls back stiffened. Slowly she turned to look at him (and swatted Jane’s poking finger away as she did). Her face was very carefully blank and Bucky swallowed, suddenly nervous.

“Well at least you didn’t tell me Snape killed him. That would’ve been an even worse spoiler.”

They both stared some more, before, quite suddenly, Darcy was smiling brightly and then she was right in front of him and beaming down at him.

“Uh,” Bucky got out, staring wide eyed up at her. His soulmate. She was real. And she was here. And she was funny, and obviously a little vindictive.

“Seriously dude, it was stressful, knowing someone was gonna die and not even knowing who they are!”

“I can imagine,” Bucky said, a glimpse of a smile lighting up his own features. “Imagine knowing some guy named Snape was going to kill someone and not being able to do anything about it.”

Darcy didn’t look the least bit chastised. She actually grinned wider. “Tit for tat, s’only fair.”

“Can’t argue with that.” He dropped the book on to the sofa cushion next to him and held out his flesh and blood hand. “I’m James. Most people call me Bucky.”

“Duh,” Darcy rolled her eyes at him, even as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Your face was kinda the one I drew love hearts around in my history book when I was in high school.”

A chortle escaped him and he squeezed her hand right back.

“Guess fate knew what she was doing then.”

“Yeah. Poor Dumbledore though. I mean, I was born years before the books even came out. What if our marks are the reason JK decided to kill him?”

"I've had my mark since before she was born," Bucky said, giving Darcy's arm a tug and causing her to topple in to his lap. "If it's our fault he's dead..." He paused, a hand slipping up her back and tangling in her hair. "Y'know, I really don't care."

"Bu-" Darcy started, even with the closeness of her soulmate she was fully prepared to debate fate vs freewill and the originality of ideas. Bucky wasn't giving her a chance though, as his mouth slanted over hers.

And Darcy found she didn't even mind.

#Darcy Lewis #Bucky Barnes #Darcy x Bucky #Wintershock #Soulmate AU #I should really get a Beta #because I'm sure this could use a lot of polishing

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loxare · 8 years ago

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Harm

Chapter 3 - Running for Home and Red Giraffes

Two weeks after releasing himself from the hospital (a day before his actual release) and Red Hood was back on patrol. Well, running late on patrol. He would have been at the warehouse an hour ago, but he kept stopping to look over his shoulder. For reasons completely unrelated to Nightwing showing up in Bludhaven. Plus, his usual route normally took him past a bunch of street cameras, so he had to go around those. Also for unrelated reasons.

Sometimes, Jason wondered if he was lying to himself too much. Probably not.

He was about three blocks away and twenty minutes late for the meeting of the major crime bosses in Bludhaven when he saw something at street level, so he grappled down for a better look.

A kid, around twelve, carrying a stuffed backpack that was way too big for him. From the state of his clothes, he wasn't a street kid. Too nice, and more importantly, clean. And from the furious tears on his face, he wasn't going to a sleep over.

And behind the kid, some guy with a knife. Clearly, he was going to take the kid's backpack. Which was just asking for the Red Hood to jump from the roof onto his shoulders. Which is good because that's what happened.

The kid jumped at the crash, whirling around with a taser in his hand. Well, at least he was prepared. Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “Good job with the taser kid. Guess I didn't need to stop this crap stain after all.” He hefted the man under his boot up, looking him up and down. The man didn't look like a druggie. “Jeez dude. You look half starved. Here,” he pressed a voucher into the clearly-homeless guy's hand. “There's a hot dog vendor on Fifth and Blue. Give him that, he'll punch it and give you a hot dog.” The voucher was good for ten hot dogs, prepaid by Red Hood. He had half a dozen in his belt that he gave to various people when they looked like they needed food.

As the guy clutched the voucher like a lifeline, Jason turned to the kid, who had his taser dangling by his side as he looked at Jason with some sort of awe. “You're Red Hood.”

Jason nodded, not taking off his helmet just yet. “Come on. Let's get off the streets before someone decides you still look like a target. What's your name by the way? And do you have any allergies?”

“Um. Anthony Santana, and no, not really. I mean, the cold gives me hives sometimes, but that's it.”

“Come on, Anthony, let's see if Min Yu Eatery is still open.” The Eatery was Jason's favourite. It was as close to homemade as he could find in Bludhaven, clean, affordable, and the owner liked him. Partly because he was a good customer, partly because he had gotten her kid out of some trouble with a gang or three. By the time they got there, the place had closed, but Min saw him through the window and opened up. “Missed me by five minutes Hood! You're lucky the stove is still lit or you'd have to eat cold leftovers!”

“Min, you know I'd eat anything you made, hot, cold or otherwise.” Jason gestured to Anthony. “Min, this is Anthony. He's running away from home and needs a good meal before he leaves. Anthony, this is Min Yu, purveyor of delicious food and wielder of a large spoon. Do not make her mad.”

Min waved the aforementioned spoon threateningly. “And don't you forget it. Shame on you Hood, for ever thinking I'd serve you something cold. Now go sit down. Food will be out when it comes.”

Jason pulled off his helmet as he slid into the booth. Anthony cautiously slid in beside him. After a moment, he asked, “So how did you know I was running away?”

Grabbing a pair of chopsticks and laying them on his napkin, Jason answered, “The massive backpack mostly. And your clothes are a bit too clean for you to be living on the streets.” Anthony nodded like that made sense. Which it probably did. By now, most of the kids in Bludhaven knew he had lived on the streets when he was younger, so he knew what he was talking about.

“Are...” Anthony hesitated, “are you going to make me go back?”

Jason pulled a face. “Not if you don't want to. But I would like to know why you're running away and if you have somewhere to go. Don't tell me if you don't want, but if I don't know you're safe, it's going to keep me up at night.” Min came by with tea, and both of them thanked her profusely.

“You're up all night anyways,” Anthony said flippantly, then turned red with embarrassment. “I mean, aren't you? With the crime fighting and the roof... swinging... and...” He trailed off as Jason started laughing.

“Yes, I guess I am up all night. Fine then, it'll keep me up all day.” Jason lifted the lid of the tea pot to check if it was ready. Nope. Another minute. “Do you want me to start guessing? Because I will.” No visible bruises, but that didn't mean much while the kid was wearing a coat and scarf. However, the way that he had never flinched when Jason touched him, and how he had just followed him to an unknown location spoke volumes. So it wasn't abuse or bullies driving this kid out of his house.

Anthony wrinkled his nose. “It's... a lot of things changed at my house, and... first it was the baby, and then we moved, and the new school and I don't know anyone yet and...” He sighed, fiddling with his chopsticks. “I miss Gotham.”

Jason raised an eyebrow while he poured tea in both of their cups. “Filing that under, 'thing's I never thought I'd hear, ever.' Baby brother or sister?”

“Sister. Her name is Carina. And I get that babies need attention, a lot of attention, I've known that since Mom got pregnant, but...” He trailed off when Min brought the food. Jason got egg foo yung with rice and mixed veggies, Anthony got a steamed fish with similar sides.

“You're lonely.” Min declared as she refilled the tea pot with hot water. At Jason's questioning glance, she smiled smugly. “The acoustics in here are amazing. All sound eventually ends up in the kitchen. That's the best way to catch dine and dashers. And you,” she turned to Anthony, “do you have a destination in mind?”

Anthony nodded and hastily swallowed his food. “Yes. My aunt's house. She lives in Gotham. I thought that I could just live with her and go to school in Gotham and visit my parents on weekends or something.”

“Well, you're prepared.” Jason shifted over so Min could sit down with her soup.

She nodded, bringing some noodles to her mouth. “Always a good quality.”

Pulling out his phone, Jason asked, “So, where do you live?” Anthony gave him an address, and Jason grabbed a napkin from the holder, jotting down a few numbers. “It's up to you whether you stay or go, but if you need some friends, call these people. They all live nearby, they're good kids, and four of them play baseball.” He gestured to the Gotham Knights patch on Anthony's backpack.

Anthony grabbed the paper and read down the list. “I think Sylvia Summers is in my Math class.”

“So go say hi.” Min tapped the paper with a finger. “Say hi to all your classmates. Get into an argument over whether the Knights or the Sabers are better, find a common interest. The friends are there.”

“Have you found the RedKids website yet?” When Anthony shook his head, Jason reached over and wrote the website on it. “Start up a thread on there. Last I checked, most of the kids were local.”

“So,” Anthony fiddled with his chopsticks as he studied the napkin, “you don't think I should run away.”

Jason sighed and sat back. “It's up to you kid. Who knows, moving in with your aunt could be the best idea ever. Or, you'd be even lonelier because you miss your parents. But it took courage and planning to pack your bag and walk out the door. Maybe you should use some of that to make Bludhaven work for you.”

Anthony nodded. He spent the rest of the meal thinking through his options while Jason and Min talked about food ideas. Two weeks later, Marcus texted Jason a selfie of him, Sylvia and Anthony at the field kids used for baseball.

“Your name is Chaperon Coquelicot?”

The kid squirmed under Jason's flat stare. “Yeah. Totally.”

Jason sighed. “Ok, that loosely, very loosely, translates as red hood.” Though how the kid knew that coquelicot was a shade of red based on the common word for a French poppy was... actually, it was probably a quick Google search. “So what's your real name? And no bad French this time.”

He sighed. “Tumelo Thompson. Friends call me Mel.”

Was that an invitation for Jason to call him Mel, or...? “Awesome. So, what'd you call me here for? Your text was super vague.” Vague enough that Red Hood had suspected another Armani Thug trap. He'd surveilled the whole block for half an hour before he'd come down to talk.

“It's two things really. First, I wanna join the Red Kids. Not the website, I already have a username and quite a few casings,” the website used “casings” as in “bullet casings” as a point system. It was weird, kids were weird, moving on, “the real one, where they go around doing what you do.”

“Gonna stop you there kid.” Jason held up his hand. Making sure his most serious expression was on his face, he put his hand on the kids shoulder and leaned down so their faces were level. “I'm going to say this once, only once, and I want you to respect it. The 'real' Red Kids are not operating with my approval. I definitely do not want them out there, and I am doing everything I can to stop them. Do not join them. Do not let your friends join them. Ok?”

Hesitantly, the kid nodded. “Fine.” Jason wasn't convinced, at all, but he would let it go for now. But if he saw Mel with one of those leather jackets, he was going to lecture him so hard. Still, he leaned back and motioned for the kid to continue. With a huff, Mel did. “The second thing is a bit tricky and really illegal.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow and gestured at himself. He was wearing two hand guns, a sniper rifle, and he had a rocket launcher in his duffel bag. Before Mel's text, he'd been going to go blow up a warehouse full of cell phones. Harmless sounding, but the phones had small explosives in them. These were outbound, heading to Bialya, enough for ten thousand people. Dial a master number, and when the person picks up, the explosive goes off with just enough charge to blow off their head. But it was fine. The shipment wasn't leaving until tomorrow.

“Right. I forgot. Anyways, I need you to break into Bludhaven 65's evidence lockup and get a stuffed hippo that may or may not be evidence in a gruesome murder.”

“Ok, I'm going to need the story on that one. I'll do it, but I'd like to know why.”

Mel sighed. “The hippo is my neighbour's. He's six, and his mom and dad just died, and his best friend got taken just because it got one drop of blood on it. He needs Giraffe, um, that's the hippo's name, to sleep.”

A hippo named Giraffe. Cool. “Can do. I just need to make one quick stop on the way. Well, two stops. Text you when I have it.” With a smile and a wave, he pulled his helmet back on and jumped off the building.

The good news was, the cellphone warehouse was on the way to the 65th precinct. Goodbye murder phones, hello explosion. After this, he should probably donate some drug money to the firemen. Or he would, if he wasn't incredibly sure it would go to gold bathtubs instead of red trucks. The firemen were almost as corrupt as the cops, which was weird to think about. Maybe he should just buy equipment and donate that.

Hm. It just occurred to him that he used an explosion to prevent many smaller explosions. He really needed to find someone to share the irony of that with. Not the kids. With his luck, they would interpret it as bombs being on the table for all their unapproved vigilante-ing.

The 65th precinct was one of the not-terrible ones. The kind of corrupt that would let an assault charge go for the right price, but a murderer would have to pay a much higher price. Luckily, the neighbourhood was bad enough that most of the murderers here couldn't afford that price, so justice got done after a fashion.

His second stop was his safe house. Not the one in the mob building. After he hadn't shown up for a month, his landlady, a nice Italian grandmother with a quick trigger finger and a mean marinara, had gotten worried and broke down the door. Long story short, they no longer believed his cover about being a writer and it had taken him a week to track down all his favourite weapons. He had left a nice gift basket for his land lady in apology though.

No, this one was the top floor of a condemned apartment building. He'd bought out the building from the state under an alias and was having the whole thing renovated. The top was done, which wasn't at all how the contractor had wanted to do the reno, but Jason, or rather his alias Mark Lee, had insisted. At least he'd gotten a relatively honest contractor. And the lower floors were up next.

Anyways. Future plans. For now, this particular safe house had uniforms. Cop uniforms, and a bunch of real badges he'd doctored so they had his picture instead of the cops he's stolen them from. He dressed quickly and left.

Landing on the rooftop of the precinct was easy. There were cameras, sure, but they weren't set up very well. Three were pointed at the exact same spot and one was staring at the moon. Plus, they weren't covering the rooftop access door. He picked the lock and slipped in.

Red Hood stood for a moment enjoying the warmth. The cop uniform had short sleeves and wasn't very warm. Then, he made his way towards the evidence locker.

In his uniform, with his hat covering his hair and face, no one looked twice at him. It took some doing to find evidence, but luckily, most police stations followed the same general layout. Also luckily, the 65th didn't have anyone guarding the door. Sure, there was an electronic lock that was impossible to break into without a key card and access code, but with that kind of security, they may as well leave the door wide open.

Totally impossible, as long as the person breaking in didn't know about the design flaw. Which Red Hood did. So. Pulling off the side panel, he grabbed the green wire and stuck it into the card reader. There was a fizz and a small puff of smoke, and the door popped open.

With a smile, Red Hood strolled in and grabbed the log book from the wall. The murder was fairly recent, so... There! One stuffed animal, on Shelf 43a. He grabbed the hippo, small enough to fit in his pocket, and left the way he came.

Once back in his safe house, he took the hippo out and sighed. One drop of blood Mel? The hippo was covered in it from mid-belly down. With a sigh, Jason went to his bathroom and pulled out Jason's version of Alfred's homemade blood remover. It was a surprisingly necessary item in Jason's childhood. Still, it took a good half hour of scrubbing before Giraffe got back to his old, grey colour.

An hour later, Jason was swinging home, Mel and his neighbour Cahyo waving goodbye.

AN: And we’re back! By the by, Min’s Eatery is a reference to Jason Todd: The Not-So-Outlaw, which is good and you should read it.

Someone was wondering about the time line. This is that one time after Cass comes back from being evil, Steph is alive and Bruce isn’t dead yet. In the comics, it was a pretty short time. In this story, it is going to be as long as I want it to be.

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Loxie's Fics #Blood tw #I think that's it.#Let me know if you want something tagged

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airoasis · 5 years ago

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'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/good-luck-father-ted-father-ted-series-1-episode-1-dead-parrot-5/

'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

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Doyle you want to have a cop i know thanks mrs. Doyle truthfully i want have a cop are you sure an hour tart no i’m not within the mood types all right so like a while but you are no longer have a drop oh thank you mrs. Owen oh i’m first-class Noorie they take aside father and seriously no and what do you say to a cup take off cup this cup of tea take off oh gosh there was a mobile name prior from a Terry McNamee all right who’s that Ted I’ve by no means heard of him anything to do with there wasn’t on the television yes he is coming to Vic’s tv yeah good you’d be right here the next day or 12 grand yeah that’s good you called any one Ted still no longer working you are without difficulty the exceptional doo-doo-doo-doo higher than all the rest penis god Ted you worried the life out of me they’re doing the historical pop star thing bear dougela I was Ted yeah it was first-class being on television in these days I suppose I’ve caught the historic telly ebook with the mattress canine get some sleep you do not get overtired do you ever need to get into television you’re sad Ted annoy i wouldn’t mean to send that style of factor relatively yeah yeah i don’t think you would be a lot just right at it surely why not well you are a little serious don’t seem to be you and your eyes are bit crossed yeah they’re a little bit wonky tag the cameras can decide on that up you know i’m not pass eyed Dugan you’re somewhat no Ted sure half the time I have no idea if you’re speakme to me your father Jack dude why do not you just get some sleep correct simply have to say the historical prayers our Father who artwork in heaven hallowed hallowed be thy identify Papa do not preach doodle you understand which you can praise God with sleep turn your head a vegan for a tiring day God there may be tons of ways that you can praise God isn’t that head like that time you instructed me to praise Him by using just leaving the room that was a just right one sure Ted mmm Ted yes knock-knock who’s there father Dugan McGuire goodnight Doga right here you bit higher than others that is it you made it then I suppose so there isn’t any indication that it’s craggy Island there is no indicators or something it’s there a person looking at you with the t-shirt saying I shot junior ahh you are right here so what the line is very unhealthy father you’re a enormous muffled i’m on a transportable cellphone you caught me by way of surprise when you phoned me you know the way i am on the toilet so the place will we meet at any place we can get a number of good shots any nearby landmarks no what no there aren’t any landmarks right here now Terry no not all comprehend although the island itself is a type of landmark quite the general rule is that if you are heading away from it you’re going within the right course correct there’s the discipline feeling good that sounds good it’s not a area really however it has less rocks in it than most places father i’m going to meet you on the subject now how do I get there ask Tom there he’ll support you out proper father Thanks Holy Mary mother of God content material i’m so sorry it was only a joke attempt to hinder doing that once more dougela hi proposal was once really herself it’s the last factor i need you’re correct there Ted anyway it can be time for Jax stroll time to your walk father Jack the clips am i able to bring up the mobilephone land head he’d love that no he would not take him around the cliffs and this time if you’re going near the brink put on the brakes he used to be most effective simply fortunate the last time and you are not coming yourself i do know I think i’m going to stay right here and pray for a whilst Oh what are you after Ted i am no longer after something dude it’s no longer unknown for participants of the clergy to wish on occasion it likes greater than to get out the recent air that’s it now to your go is that invoice however man this is given every single some thing once he’s out thirty is a high-quality time he knows they is not going to kiss once I’d be half that father what you up to yourself good I feel i’ll just keep here and have slightly of an old pray all correct fill within the pressure it’s to the weekend patrons are reminded that our facilities are at a reminder of the unavailability I do not even used to be on here hello fatter whats up Tom tell your nuts and did you get them listed here are made it EJ i’d prefer to movie a seek advice from the island Faust I mean high-quality proper so I simply wait in the area noticed her Farah this time I’ve killed him in newcomer i’d need to speak to about that later i’m doing an interview for the tv keep your arms on the sides what’s quite cows database you have a face like a parrot it well is he is received some unfair between us ah no fatherhood hey John Oh Paquito his father your thanks I’ve bought to satisfy someone now clearly i’m going to be interviewed for a television software particularly are that’s notable father i will kill you notable on tv well thank you I say you’ll be able to be greater than a match for a gay Borden or Terri Morgan or any of them supply me a couple of weeks to get to their level I need to go now i am looking to monitor down this movie you’ll be able to and so they often want to do a number of shut-united states of americaof grasp pictures and Nadi’s and that such factor we’re going to be late onset get a repute is the variety of Marilyn Monroe type see you quickly don’t hassle Ted get them i could not run cheese out of it over here in these days come right here seem at me oh good day Ken what are you doing here anyway Ricky was in this kind of thing you are supposed to be taking Jack for his walk good i’m are the cliffs have been closed today i would kiss be close doodle hope you comprehend it wasn’t that they had been long past you kissed forgot how might they simply disappear corrosion come on off that me straight to the children with you there is simply an additional cop returns to move with him you are straight residence to you right here i might need to hear any longer nonsense all people else is here do just right you are a priest you’re presupposed to exhibit some decorum this wasn’t a priest don’t you say that so he instructed me one time he does not even suppose in God take all the credit score at head however what the crater dying it’s known as out given that it was a younger fella killed on it final 12 months come on i am ailing and worn out York dead seem there is a fortune-teller come on we’ll have one go in there do not rest your money on that stuff – we will take you on no account be aware of there possibly something in it it’s rubbish how might any one consider any of that variety of nonsense just no extra ordinary than that stuff we realized within the cemetery heaven and hell and everlasting life bitch take it critically Ted well you are so two men to take it severely oh yeah yes having had an eternal lifestyles sure of course I can help you go in you go residence straight after that good i will I promise that all right whats up let’s go Ted cuts on one scared off preferred i’m going to do it and which you can watch whats up there take a seat you ought to pass my palm with silver silver i do not raise large luggage of it around give me a pound now i’m going to interpret one card at a time please I wasn’t concentrating and might be it would choose one other no no it is a common misunderstanding the Grim Reaper doesn’t suggest loss of life in a literal experience alternatively it will mean the dying of an historic subculture and the opening of a new one i do know what that is it’s regularly about a new lamp i am getting for my bicycle good it is going to now not come to be clear on the subsequent car that is rather weird there may be best purported to be one in each and every percent whats up Tom it can be alternatively Crilley around yet he’s yeah he is in Dale that’s a bad scar you could have acquired there tongue where did you get that it was once a in an argument oh i am hoping you won’t say something II did Lester I’ve had worse than that i can weed past anteed that to me appear like a deer pretend thanks my father jacket electing some house it’s almost 5:00 in time for his consuming goodbye that is where I bought this okay Shema Israel has back to me come on no father we higher be off come on there you might be father we got right here at final yet another father’s dead to the sector do you don’t know what’s going on gende but it’s time Kiran come on yeah you heard from from from the television good sure we just requested you a few questions Wow am I going to be on the small screen television well sure we will off with a history of the island after which move on to how existence has converted for the Islanders economically and socially father how would you say the individuals’s devout beliefs right here on craggy Island have been affected by the arrival of television and higher entry on the whole god no they may be speaking to generate great there i am it’s me look i am on the television tube no God does he particularly exist I imply little I don’t know i do not even consider in organized faith spiderbaby it can be obtained the physique of a spider however the mind of a little one it wouldn’t quite chew you uh on SN gotten older no I can’t suppose it both i am on the television yup shaking in the air a baby has been lodged within the tunnel of gods if that if we are able to have a nurse please to the tunnel of gods thanks a goat and youngster have now turn out to be abilities collectively and the North has grow to be worried in the within the immediate and one other Norse is required to release the Norse we asked for earlier thanks you

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