#Open Lab Instrument Carts

[inkbun]

Strange Fruit

Words: 792

Pairing: Dracula/F!Reader

AO3 link

(Not canon adherent at all. This woke me up in a dream at 3 am, so I wrote it)

When you arrive, the first thing he notices is your smell. You reek. Not of piss or shit (the usual scents humans wafted in the throne room), but the deep wet tang of arousal.

Disgust curls his lip. “You want me to fuck you.”

That sent you reeling, a bug-eyed chorus of “no no no” and some piss-poor explanation about working with his wife in Wallachia as a physician’s assistant.

The way you bow – step-tap of polished black shoes as you lower too quickly and rise again, flushed – reminds him of a dog tripping over its feet to greet its master.

But a physician is useful to keep his blood bags alive, so he agrees.

The indiscretion follows, an apple tumbled from the cart. Bruised. Rotten.

To your credit, it is months of careful performance before your need breaches the surface.

You move about the castle like deer approach an open clearing – footfalls flitting, never landing. You turned apology to rosary, words worn to smooth beads in your mouth: “Sorry”, “I’ll come back later”, “Didn’t mean to disturb”.

The bleating deference was cause enough to kill you. But you hadn’t lied when you told him that you worked alongside Lisa, or that you were an eager learner.

In the months since you moved into the castle, you’d caught on quickly.

You spent the first few weeks updating your knowledge, poring through the library’s texts at a rate he thought only his wife capable.

Soon after you entered the lab, dusting off Lisa’s instruments and continuing in her notebook.

The first time he saw you with it, black leather tome smudged with her loping cursive, he stopped. You held the gaze a moment, then went back to work.

It was the only time you didn’t apologize.

One night soon after he heard a noise on his way to the tower. Slrrp, then again – fainter, irregular, accompanied by a hitching, pleasured gasp.

When he looked through the cracked door, you were two fingers deep in your cunt, dress rucked up as you writhed.

It was mundane, really.

Sex. Money. Power. Humans were the same since time immemorial.

The sight hardly moved him; the scent bade him enter.

Beneath the iron croon of blood and animal musk of your wet was a resurrection – rose, parchment, clove, orange. It wasn’t the exact blend, but close enough to be an unmistakable copy.

A pang churned his stomach, would’ve forced the air from his lungs had they still respirated.

“You’re wearing her perfume,” he says, not bothering to announce himself.

Your eyes fly open, your hands rush to cover. The performance is not altogether convincing. Yes the motions are correct, as is your shriek of discovery.

But your eyes – heavy-lidded, almost relieved by intrusion – give you away.

“You want me to fuck you,” he says, peering at your form like a vivisection under magnifying glass.

This time, the truth. “Yes.”

The humans he kept were forgemasters, explicit in purpose and even more so in their passionate hatred of humanity.

You were meant keep the feeding populace relatively healthy – a glorified veterinarian. Beyond that…you were a tenuous link, an unwelcome echo that insisted on miming the inimitable.

Still, even a dull shadow was worth indulging if it ignited a flicker of what once was.

“Wait.”

The command freezes you in place, though he can practically hear the frisson of your nerves.

When he returns, he holds a bottle out to you.

Crystal, glittering under candlelight with a brass rose stopper. You uncork it without a word, dabbing the amber liquid on all the points his teeth could tear.

“Not a word.” You nod and lay back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The act itself is clinical.

You’re prepared enough for him to enter without preamble; he’s determined enough to make quick work of it. But your eyes still widen and your fingers still grasp at his shoulders – he grunts, live flesh fused against dead.

When your cunt clenches – choked sob ripped from your lips – it conjures Lisa. Fair where you are not, angelic where you bray.

His wife, where you…you…

A strangled, growling release cuts the thought short. When he looks down, you’re on the cusp of your own fit, pleading gaze boring into his.

For a moment, he considers splitting your neck with his nails. But he looks at the perfume on your nightstand and ruts once, twice until you’re brought over the edge.

Silently you compose yourself as he dresses to leave, crackling hearth flame the only sound.

In the doorway, he turns.

“Again, at this time tomorrow.”

[sevasey51]

after a few crazy shifts the last couple weeks. A couple shifts with multiple code whites that went over the PA. Some difficult deliveries and a couple close calls to losses. Connor knew everytime that code went over the PA she definitely was responding. She’s a scrub tech after all she would always scrub in to help her co worker organize the supplies. He knew she was slowly but surely had a one way ticket to a crash. In between cases Connor tells Ava that he wants her to check you out. They take the opportunity of maternity not being busy for the first time in weeks for Ava to take a look at her.

Surviving Isn’t Thriving

Summary: After weeks of nonstop chaos—code whites, difficult deliveries, and too many close calls—Connor’s been watching his wife stretch herself thinner and thinner. As a scrub tech, she never says no to stepping in when someone needs help. She scrubs in, organizes, steadies the chaos. But Connor knows her tells—how she pushes through, how she won’t stop until her body forces her to. So during a lull in cases, he quietly pulls Ava aside and asks her to check Y/N over. Because before she falls, he wants someone to catch her. Even if she won’t admit she needs it.

The hospital had been running hot for weeks.

Every other day, a Code White blared overhead—OB emergency. Hemorrhages, fetal distress, sudden heart decels. One minute the floor was calm, and the next it was a battlefield. And every single time, Y/N was there.

Connor knew.

He didn’t have to see it.

He could feel it.

She was the one organizing trays mid-crisis. The one unwrapping instruments with practiced hands while staying three steps ahead of the panic. He’d caught glimpses of her in passing—masked, focused, steady even in the blur of chaos.

But when the adrenaline faded, he also saw the way she leaned just a little too long against the counter. The way she blinked at the ground before standing, like gravity had gotten heavier. The way she brushed off Will’s offer of coffee with a quiet, “No time.”

Connor knew what that meant.

She was going down. Slowly. Quietly. And she wasn’t going to say a word about it.

In between cases, he caught Ava just outside the OR.

“You busy?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you look like you’re trying not to panic?”

“It’s Y/N.”

Her expression softened immediately. “What happened?”

“She’s running herself into the ground. I know the signs. She’s been working every emergency on that floor for the past two weeks. No breaks. Skipped meals. I’ve seen the way her hands tremble when she thinks no one’s looking.”

Ava didn’t even hesitate. “Get her off the floor. I’ll come up and take a look.”

Connor sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Maternity was quiet for the first time in what felt like forever. No urgent deliveries. No OR preps. Just soft chatter and paperwork.

Connor slipped into the lounge, where Y/N was leaning over a cart of labeled suture packs, restocking like she hadn’t been on her feet for ten hours.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Come with me for a second?”

She looked up, surprised. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I just… need you to sit down.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Connor…”

“I asked Ava to come up. She’s going to check you over.”

Y/N straightened. “You what?”

“You’re not in trouble,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I’m just worried. You’ve been burning at both ends. You haven’t had a proper meal or break in days. Your pupils were sluggish this morning, your hands were trembling during that C-section, and I saw you catch yourself on the wall walking out of 7B.”

Her shoulders dropped. Her eyes welled just slightly.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“I see everything about you,” he whispered. “That’s the whole point.”

Before she could argue, Ava entered the room, lab coat open, calm as ever.

“Hi, favorite patient,” she said gently. “Don’t worry. This is unofficial. Just me being nosy on behalf of your very panicked husband.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Ava replied. “Sit.”

Ava took her vitals first—BP low, heart rate too high for resting. Pupils reactive, but slow. Mild dehydration. Lightheaded on standing. Her port was slightly inflamed, probably from overuse and not enough flushing.

Connor sat across from her, quiet but present.

“You’re pre-crash,” Ava said finally. “And I don’t mean maybe. I mean definitely. You’re running on fumes, and your body’s giving every early warning sign it has.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. “I didn’t want to be the weak link.”

“You’re not,” Connor said instantly. “But if you keep pushing like this, you’re going to go down mid-case. And you know exactly how that ends.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten.”

“That’s the thing about slow burns,” Ava said gently. “You don’t feel it until you’re ash.”

They got her settled in the quiet room just off maternity—IV fluids through her port, blood work ordered, her feet elevated. Ava stayed for another half hour, updating her chart and sending notes to Hannah and Will.

Connor never left her side.

Later, when she was finally resting, she reached for his hand.

“I hate that you knew before I did.”

He kissed her knuckles. “I love you too much not to notice.”

Because the bravest thing wasn’t always saving someone in an OR.

Sometimes it was watching the person you love slowly wear themselves thin—

and stepping in before they crumbled.

Even if it meant being the one who made them stop.

[greenmatter1]

The Right Way to Store, Seal, and Transport Bio Hazard Bags

Proper handling of bio hazard bags is essential in any healthcare, laboratory, or clinical environment. These specialized bags are designed to contain infectious and hazardous materials, ensuring that they don’t pose a risk to people, animals, or the environment. However, even the most durable biohazard waste bag can fail to serve its purpose if it’s not stored, sealed, and transported correctly.

Let’s break down the correct process for managing bio medical waste bags to ensure safety, compliance, and environmental responsibility.

Why Proper Handling of Bio Hazard Bags Is Crucial

Biohazardous waste includes human tissue, blood-soaked materials, used medical instruments, laboratory samples, and other potentially infectious substances. Improper handling can result in:

Contamination of clean areas

Exposure to healthcare workers or the public

Environmental pollution

Fines or legal action for non-compliance

To avoid these risks, healthcare facilities must adhere to strict guidelines for the storage, sealing, and transportation of bio hazard waste.

1. Storing Bio Hazard Bags Safely

Storage is the first step in the safe management of biomedical waste. It must be handled carefully to prevent leakage, mixing, or accidental exposure.

Best Practices:

Use a designated biohazard bin: Place bio hazard bags in clearly labeled, covered containers with a foot-operated lid to reduce hand contact.

Avoid overfilling: Bags should not be filled beyond two-thirds capacity to prevent rupture.

Keep away from public areas: Store waste in a restricted, well-ventilated, and temperature-controlled room until it is transported.

Segregate by type: Use color-coded bio medical waste bags (e.g., red for infectious waste, yellow for anatomical waste) to ensure proper treatment methods.

By maintaining organized, secure storage, facilities can reduce the risk of spills and cross-contamination.

2. Sealing Bio Hazard Bags Properly

Once a biohazard waste bag is filled, it must be sealed securely before transport. This step is vital for containing waste and protecting handlers.

Proper Sealing Tips:

Twist and tie the bag tightly at the neck using a strong knot or zip tie.

Double-bag if needed: For particularly wet or heavy waste, place the bag inside another bio hazard bag for added protection.

Label the bag: Ensure that each sealed bag is labeled with the waste category, date, and source (e.g., lab, ICU, ward).

Use tamper-evident ties: These offer additional security and clearly indicate if a bag has been opened.

Sealing is not just about safety—it’s a legal requirement under most bio medical waste regulations.

3. Transporting Bio Hazard Bags Responsibly

Transporting bio hazard bags—whether within a facility or to an external disposal unit—must be done with care and documentation.

Safe Transport Guidelines:

Use closed trolleys or carts that are clearly labeled and easy to sanitize.

Minimize manual handling: Lift bags using handles or trays to reduce contact with the surface of the bag.

Follow a fixed route: Avoid crossing paths with patients or food service areas to limit contamination risk.

External transport must be authorized: Only certified agencies should handle off-site disposal, following regulations for hazardous waste.

Proper transportation ensures the integrity of the waste containment process and maintains hygiene across healthcare operations.

Compliance with Legal Standards

Most countries, including India, regulate biomedical waste under specific laws such as the Bio-Medical Waste Management Rules, 2016. These guidelines outline exactly how bio medical waste bags must be handled, and non-compliance can lead to legal penalties and endanger public health.

Using certified, clearly labeled biohazard waste bags, training staff, and documenting waste movement are all part of staying compliant.

Conclusion: Safety Starts with the Bag

Correctly storing, sealing, and transporting bio hazard bags is not just a best practice—it’s a necessity. It protects your staff, patients, community, and the environment. By following proper procedures and using certified bio medical waste bags, your facility can maintain a clean, safe, and compliant waste disposal system.

Don’t cut corners on waste management—because in healthcare, every detail counts.

[omnilabsolutions]

Agilent Instrument Carts

OMNI Lab Solution is committed to providing Agilent Instrument Carts. OMNI’s laboratory workstations are designed and manufactured to provide a durable, flexible, and streamlined solution for the modern lab. These carts are designed and manufactured to provide a durable and streamlined solution for the modern laboratory. Kindly visit us at omnilabsolutions.com or call us +16195796664. We are always here to help you.

[turtlethon]

“Raphael Drives ‘Em Wild”

Season 4, Episode 35 First US Airdate: November 17, 1990  

Raphael and a cab driver unwittingly end up trading bodies.

We’ve made it into triple digits! “Raphael Drives ‘Em Wild” is episode 100 of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Misty Taggart is credited as writer for this centennial adventure.

Leonardo, Donatello and Michaelangelo are seen waiting impatiently for Raphael to return, having promised to pick up pizzas on his way back. Above ground, Raph emerges from the Rex cinema, a location seen previously in “Beneath These Streets” and “Invasion of the Turtle Snatchers”. Today they’re playing “Slime Creatures from the Planet Zurp”, so I guess they’ve finally moved on from that Kung-Fu Cheerleaders movie. Remembering his earlier promise, Raphael rushes off to try and catch a taxi, only to almost get hit by an oncoming cab.

After being hurled through the air, Raph falls into a homeless woman’s shopping cart and begins rolling downtown. More hi-jinks follow before he winds up in a pile outside another recurring series locale, Vinnie’s Pizza.

In the back of a cab, a man in a trenchcoat named Little Louie phones his boss, a diminutive gangster with the ironic name of “Mr. Big”. Louie reveals he’s stolen a handheld device called a transmogrifier from a lab; the henchman now must use it on the visiting Premier of Vadeem, in order to swap their brains. Once he’s in the visiting dignitary’s body, he can sign over his oil deeds to the crime boss.

Little Louie asks the cab driver, Oscar, to pull over so that he can pick up some pizzas from Vinnie’s before continuing on to his mission. As he temporarily leaves the cab, Louie accidentally leaves the transmogrifier on the seat. Moments later Raphael emerges from the restaurant, carrying a huge stack of pizzas. He’s relieved to see a taxi waiting for him, and gets in only to be immediately whisked away to the location Louie had previously agreed to. Oscar drives erratically down the street, grumbling all the while. This prompts Raphael to break the fourth wall and quip “Big City cab drivers. Don’t you just love ‘em?” Once again, I don’t know why we can’t just say “New York” now and have to pretend the Turtles live in some generic city.

Emerging from Vinnie’s, Little Louie falls over himself as he finds his cab has left without him, taking the transmogrifier with it. He rushes back to Mr. Big’s hideout. Meanwhile Oscar continues to drive like a madman. He almost collides with a truck, leading the driver to emerge and give him a piece of his mind, but he backs off after seeing the cab begin to glow as the transmogrifier activates.

Recovering from the near-crash, Oscar is now seen to have Raphael’s body (while still wearing his own clothes); conversely, Raph is still in his trademark trenchcoat, but has assumed Oscar’s form. After finding their bearings, Oscar agrees to drop Raphael off at the nearest sewer.

At Channel 6, April is given a projector presentation by Burne, showing her the Premier of Vadeem. April is keen to secure an interview with this eligible bachelor and billionaire oil mogul for the 11 O'clock News.

Little Louie is chewed out by Mr. Big, who orders him to find the taxi cab containing the transmogrifier. Meanwhile the Turtles call Vinnie’s and learn Raphael left several hours ago. The team are relieved to see what initially appears to be their missing team-mate returning, but immediately become less receptive when they find themselves face-to-face with a stranger who has donned Raphael’s clothes. As the instrumental version of the Turtles theme song plays, the trio attack the intruder and the first act fades out – it's a very oddly handled cliffhanger.

Act two opens with the Turtles confronting the mystery man. Raphael is shown standing next to a mirror, in which he appears as his normal self. From Raph’s perspective, nothing has changed, and as he reveals information that only he would know, the Turtles realise he really is their team-mate.

Above ground, a scene reminiscent of the Rodney Dangerfield film “Easy Money” unfolds, as Oscar transports a man and the birthday cake he’s purchased for his wife’s fortieth birthday. Meanwhile Mr. Big and Little Louie drive around looking for the cab containing the transmogrifier. They’re eventually able to identify it thanks to the signage, and cut the taxi off, causing the roof-mounted cake to fly through the air and land on the criminal duo.

Oscar’s passenger is despondent. He runs off, bemoaning that his wife will kill him, and I’m honestly far more invested in this guy’s story than that of Oscar, Mr. Big or Little Louie. (We will see this guy again, but not today, so at least we know in the most literal sense his wife did not actually murder him.)

Mr. Big and Little Louie request a ride from Oscar, assuring him that they’ll tell him where to go when they get there. Meanwhile the Turtles struggle to get used to Raphael’s new body as the team watch a news report on TV. Vernon reports live from the Meridian Mind Institute, where a professor explains that their transmogrifier has been stolen. He goes on to outline how it can swap minds, but has a flaw: after being triggered, it enters a “random self-destruct mode”, and in the wrong hands could blow up half of the city.

Leo, Donnie and Mikey sneak off to talk amongst themselves. The report confirms that the minds of Raph and this mystery man must indeed have been swapped (though how they swapped clothes hasn’t and won’t be explained). Donatello suggests they should try and get hold of the blueprints for the transmogrifier so that he can try and undo its effects.

Oscar is ordered by Mr. Big and Little Louie to travel to pier 53, where they’ll confront the Premier of Vadeem. Along the way, they’re able to recover the transmogrifier, which has begun to glow brightly.

The Turtles dash through the sewers on their way to their van, but Raphael in his new body is heavily winded. Michaelangelo ends up offering him a piggy-back ride to help him complete the journey.

At a set of traffic lights, April spots Oscar and is easily able to identify him as Raphael, even without his signature bandana. This is surprising given that earlier this season she attempted to have an extended conversation with Slash and was convinced he was one of the Turtles. Oscar denies being Raphael and drives off; April is intrigued and decides to pursue him, alerting the Turtles via communicator to her findings.

The Turtles arrive at the Meridian building and jump the fence to make their way inside. Raphael is unable to do so and the group ask him to stand guard instead. Across town, April follows the taxi and finds it at the pier, where a crowd watches Mr. Big and Little Louie drag the Premier of Vadeem out of his luxury yacht. 

Act three begins with Oscar’s taxi cab being pursued by the police, as well as April in the news van. Having obtained the transmogrifier’s blueprints, the Turtles are also on the move, with Raphael at the wheel of the van. Still unaware that he’s in Oscar’s body, he feels that he’s instinctively skilled at driving but doesn’t know why. Michaelangelo laments that he wasn’t born behind the wheel, but “behind one of those little castles in an aquarium”.

April alerts the Turtles to the situation, and the team warn her to keep her distance as the transmogrifier is rapidly becoming unstable. She continues her pursuit, but loses the cab as it pulls into a dockside warehouse.

Having reached their location, Mr. Big and Little Louie reveal their plan to the Premier of Vadeem, who pleads with Oscar to help him. The cab driver insists on not getting involved and demands to be given the fare he’s owed, but Mr. Big informs him that he’s about to be put “out of business”.

April meets up with the Turtles and is introduced to the “new” Raphael, who performs some ninja moves before falling on his back side. Meanwhile in the hideout Oscar refuses to back down. He grabs the transmogrifier as a form of payment, and after being threatened by the villains, is suddenly overcome by his body’s innate ninja instincts. After easily defeating both Louie and Mr. Big in a fight, he helps the Premier to escape in his cab. April and the Turtles watch as the taxi smashes through the building and out onto the streets, and quickly head off in pursuit.

A chase sequence follows that concludes with April’s news van, Oscar’s taxi, Mr. Big’s car and the Turtle van all being involved in a four-way collision. Raphael and Oscar emerge from the vehicles, having now returned to their original bodies. Donatello hugs Raphael and is relieved to find him back to his old self. The crash has caused the transmogrifier to be destroyed, preventing what would have been its imminent explosion.

Mr. Big and Little Louie are trapped in their car and beg to be freed, but the Turtles refuse to do so until the police arrive. Meanwhile April is greeted by the Premier of Vadeem (who she addresses as “Mr. Premier”). He agrees to an interview over a candlelit dinner on his yacht, officially making him her second romantic interest this season after Bugman.

Later, in the Lair, the Turtles watch on TV as Oscar is awarded a medal by the mayor, who now has a completely different appearance to the one seen in “Superhero for a Day” and "Bebop and Rocksteady Conquer the Universe", so maybe there’s been an election in the interim? It’s revealed that poor Raphael still doesn’t understand anything that’s happened in today’s adventure. The other Turtles, who presumably have tried to explain this to him multiple times, groan and walk off.

I alluded to this in my entry for “Splinter Vanishes”, but that story felt like it would have made a much more fitting 100th episode than this one, given that it had major ramifications for the team, if only temporarily. “Raphael Drives ‘Em Wild” aired immediately afterwards on the same morning, and it would have taken no effort at all to swap both adventures around in the broadcast order to mark a significant point in the history of the series.

Though the stakes are lower here, this one of season four’s more enjoyable spotlight episodes. I have some issues with the implementation of the mind swap – which, as I mentioned earlier, is somehow also a clothes swap – and none of the new characters introduced here aside from perhaps Oscar are particularly compelling. Little Louie apparently doesn’t even warrant having his name mentioned in the episode itself, and the Premier of Vadeem is never given a real name, only ever being addressed by his title. This outing isn’t quite up there with Misty Taggart’s previous episode, “Leonardo Versus Tempestra”, but is still a solid showing.

NEXT TIME: Season 4’s late stretch of non-Shredder episodes continues with “Beyond the Donatello Nebula”!

[brightjimini]

Missing (3/4)

Nightwing/Dick Grayson x Fem!healer reader

part 1 - part 2 

Warnings: blood, kinda torture 

Summary: Y/N’s mission with the League goes south.

A/N: Okay this will be 4 parts I just wanted to update it because it has been so long. Tomorrow ill hear my exam results.. honestly I think Ill need to retake two but ill see. Follow me for more.

masterlist

-

The first thing I felt was pain and mostly my head. Something was uncomfortably in my arm it felt like a sting. I could tell that I was standing up, well almost my back was resting against a cold and hard surface.  Not by my own strength but by metal cuffs that were around my wrists, ankles, and waist. How did I get here? 

I listened for any sounds before I would open my eyes. I hadn’t had the privilege to not know where I was rarely. I heard beeping sounds and nothing else. The beeping came from a heart monitor. Well, I certainly couldn’t be in a hospital. Or I was and they just tied their patients down. 

I slowly opened my eyes. I was in a pod. The last time I was in a pod was when we met Superboy. The beeping sounds increased. The room was dark, but the lights shining down on me revealed a metal cart with instruments on them. A heart monitor next to it. I looked down at my body. I was still in my suit or what was over of it. My right sleeve had been cut off a needle was in my arm that was what was stinging. The beeping sounds increased even more. I hated needles. If I concentrated I could feel it in my arm. It was pumping something in my blood.

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep

A door slammed open my head snapped to the sound. The lights in the room turned on. I squinted my eyes against the brightness. I heard footsteps and I could faintly sense three heartbeats. My eyes adjusted to the lights.

“Luthor.” I growled when I saw the bald man in an expensive suit. He was observing me the corner of his mouth lifted in an amused smile. “Project Health” He replied. I frowned in confusion. Two other people entered the room both clad in white lab coats. One of them rolled a cart with needles and vials filled with liquids. The beeping of the heart monitor increased. My throat was dry but I still forced the words out. “I am not one of your projects.” I said anger apparent in my voice. 

“I’ll need some of your DNA. See you can heal others, imagine how rich ill be if I got medicine for all diseases and viruses. Well need to do some tests of course but we will have all the time.” Luthor grabbed a chair that was close to the door and sat down right on the other side of the room keeping an eye on everything the white coats did. 

He was enjoying this his heartbeat was slow and he was observing me.. Like another project. How did Conner live with knowing he was an experiment?

I tried to stay strong but the heart monitor was ratting me out. I was terrified. Of course, I had been captured before. But never alone. I didn’t have teammates with me to share the same fear of the unknown. One of the doctors filled a syringe, the liquid was black. I held my breath as it was added to the clear liquid in the infusion bag.

I forced myself to close my eyes. At first, I thought it felt just the same as before but then I felt a burn. A stabbing pain just going up my arm. I clenched my jaw trying to ignore the pain. “Write this down.” I could hear Luthor say somewhere far away. A scream tore through my throat. 

Dick where are you?

-

let me know your thoughts?

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary:  As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes:  Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note:  The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

[whitecatindisguise]

Silenced

I got inspired yet again! @wheredomelodiescomefrom, you, my friend, are the amazing artist and one providing one of the best inspirational pieces.

This oneshot in particular was inspired by this picture. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

------

Varian stared at the graphtyc laying on the workbench. He still didn't know why it was hidden in his father's room, along with the chest full of mysteries.

I mean-

When your father is a farmer, the last thing you expect to find amongst his things is the suit of armour with a peculiar symbol you didn't see before in your life.

So, yeah. Saying Varian's interest was piqued was a huge understatement. Adding to that he didn't have any way to ask his father about that... you probably get the idea.

Anyway... The graphtyc contained a part of the bigger scroll of some sort, seeing how the words and symbols cut off in the middle. Also, it was visibly torn apart. Yeah, that too.

It took him several days, filled with frustration and flying papers when he was stuck on a particularly puzzling phrase, but he finally had the scroll (or at least the part from the graphtyc) translated.

From what he had gathered, the black rocks were the manifestation of some 'great evil', which seemed to emerge after the Sundrop Flower was taken away. The same flower that, according to the scroll, was the only way to get rid of them.

Varian groaned and let his head hit the table in frustration. Ruddiger chittered anxiously from his spot on the side but the boy ignored him.

What if he knew how to take care of the black rocks if he couldn't do anything about it? Even if he knew where the Sundrop Flower was held (because he refused to believe the King simply got rid of the flower with such power; he must have stored it somewhere), there was no way he could just go and get it. Not with those masked men watching his every move and making sure he doesn't leave the village.

He didn't know who they were, but he could bet they were on the King's orders. No one else had any purpose in making his life even more miserable than it already was.

Coming back to the point of the Sundrop Flower... it was probably stored somewhere on the castle grounds. If only there was a way for him to get in unnoticed...

He trailed off as his thoughts moved to a certain long-haired princess with promise issues. Surely with character like hers, enjoying freedom and sneaking out, she must have known about some secret way in and out of the castle.

His eyes wandered to the bottle he fished out of the river not so long ago. It contained several drops of a potion which changed the personality of the unfortunate victim. With some minor adjustment, he should be able to convert it into a truth serum and use it to learn of the Flower's whereabouts. And once he knows that, he could use the Princess to get in and out with no problem. But how to convince her to help him...?

He looked back at the graphtyc and then turned to stare at the enormous monolith, the yellow bits barely visible under the cloth he covered it with. Yeah... he could work with that.

If his calculations were correct, the Princess birthday were approaching, meaning the Coronans would start leaving gifts and cards under the Princess statue. If he could send her the message using the lantern, telling her to come...

Varian worked quickly after that, scribbling a short and desperate-sounding note, securing it with the key to the graphtyc and tying the whole thing to the string attached to a lantern. He, then, took the graphtyc and looked around for a place to hide it.

It couldn't be too obvious, but, at the same time, couldn't be too difficult either. His eyes spotted the Flynn Rider shrine at the back of his lab and he grinned. He approached the spot and picked up one of the books. His heart hurt at what he was just about to do, but it was for a higher cause.

With a heavy heart, he cut out the hole in the middle of the pages and pushed the graphtyc inside. Then, he closed the book and put it exactly in the middle of the shrine. There, that will do it.

With everything ready, he waited until the early night hours and then carefully sneaked out of the house. Ruddiger was anxious at letting him go, but Varian was certain it would be easier for him to do it alone, even if he himself felt a little too anxious.

He creeped through the abandoned village, eyes and ears open for any movements and sounds. Ever since the villagers left, Old Corona felt more eerie at night. Black rocks sprouting all around only added to the creepy atmosphere. Varian repressed a shudder as he continued down the empty streets, the lantern and the message cradled in his arms.

He was almost out of the village, when he felt someone suddenly grab him by the arm and pull him back. He fell to the ground with a startled yelp, the lantern falling out of his hands.

"And where do you think you're going?" A masked man appeared in his corner of vision, towering over the laying boy.

Varian froze up, terror overwhelming his movements. He heard another man shuffle around and, with horror, he noticed him pick up the lantern and unseal the letter.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The man holding the letter approached the boy and he shuffled back, terrified.

"P-please, no!" He cried, already feeling the tears welling in his eyes.

The man reached out and pulled him up roughly. Varian let out a pained yelp and tried to escape the hold, only for the grip to harden.

"Where. Is. The. Graphtyc?" The man seethed, shaking the poor alchemist.

"N-no, please." Varian's voice trembled with fear. They couldn't get the scroll. It was the only way to persuade Rapunzel to help him. And it belonged to DAD.

"It's probably somewhere in his lab." The other man said and the one holding Varian hummed thoughtfully.

"You're right." He nodded and turned his attention back to Varian. "So, here is how it's gonna be, kid. You can either tell us where did you hid the graphtyc, or watch us turn your whole lab upside down to find it."

Varian's eyes widened at the implication and he stared with horror at the man. His mind was already showing him the visions of how the lab would look like if he didn't cooperate. Spilled chemicals, destroyed experiments, unusable instruments...

"P-please..." He begged, eyes filled with tears.

"Where. Is. It?!" The man shook him again and Varian cried both in pain and realisation.

~~~~~~

Varian sobbed quietly, held by under the elbow by one of the masked men. His arms were bound behind his back, a gag tied around his mouth, the taste of material filling him from the inside.

The man who held him had the graphtyc in his hand, the other keeping the lantern and the letter. Varian heard the sounds of wheels and his heart dropped. The prison cart appeared at the entrance to the village, driven by another one of the masked men.

The cart stopped and Varian was roughly pushed inside, stumbling and falling to the wooden floor. The door were locked and he heard the men exchanging some words with the driver, before the cart was moving again.

Varian shuffled towards the corner of the cart and leaned against the wall. He missed Ruddiger already, but didn't regret telling the raccoon to run. He only hoped his only friend was safe and not captured by the men, like he was.

After quite some time, the cart rolled to a stop and the door were opened once again. He was dragged out of the cart and roughly pulled through the dark corridors of the castle, finally finding himself in the deepest part of the dungeons.

One of the guards unlocked the door, while the other unbound his arms and pushed the terrified boy inside, before the door locked again. Varian stumbled to his feet and ran up to the wooden door, pounding on them desperately.

"No! Please! Let me out!" He cried, fist hitting the wood. "I only wanted to help! I only wanted the king to listen!"

"Save your breath, kid." The guard at the other side of the door growled. "No one will hear you here, anyway."

Varian heard the guards laugh and their footsteps started to ebb.

"No! Please! Don't leave me here!" He cried more desperately. He heard the guards ascend the stairs, the door opening and closing, the lock turning.

He cried for several more hours, his voice becoming hoarse, his hands starting to bleed from the pounding on the door. He didn't hear any more sounds than those he made himself.

Finally, worn out by his desperate attempts, he slid to the cold floor and hugged himself, crying over his fate.

Yet, another enemy of the King was silenced.

[ldwritesstuff]

Tales From The SCP: Critical

I'm alive? nah, just posting an idea I had based on this thing (which you will need to read before this or nothing gonna make any sense). Might turn this into a series, we shall see, it depends on life, which is kicking my ass. Tip to ya: don't advertise your stuff at a convention because then you might be compelled to do something with it while all your other WIPs stare daggers at you. Anyways, there is the disclaimer: the only characters I own are Dr. Raven, Dr. Generic and Collins. SCP doesn't belong to me either, go check it out yourself if you want to get into in and find yourself down a huge rabbit hole. And obviously I don't own the Dream SMP or their characters.

Tales From the SCP: Critical

When it came to dealing with SCPs, Dr. Raven was no stranger to them. Having been stuck in this cat’s body and given a different life, he has been carted all around the earth, from one site to another, dealing with his new specialty against reality benders. But this was a new one he didn’t expect to be dealing with. One Dr. Generic had experience with and even worked with. Apparently things have changed and now the situation of the Keter Class SCP has become critical. In this case, the SCP the doctor is working with has changed, or rather, an instance has suddenly been released from the SCP itself. Dr. Raven is here to merely observe and act as a deterrent from the reality bending SCP during the interview. The cat with black fur covered by a white lab coat and wearing a blue collar with an ID card with his name and rank dangling from it continued down the halls. A Mobile Task Force operative assigned to make sure he stays safe follows behind as they make their way to the interview room.

“Collins, what do you think?” Dr. Raven asked, his voice cold and neutral as always.

“I’m not too sure sir, I'm not a researcher,” Collins shrugged.

“And that’s why you are only an MTF member,” Dr. Raven grumbled.

Collins didn’t respond to that, opting to just adjust his body armor. Dr. Raven just rolled his blue eyes and came to a stop in front of a door. Collins opened the door and the two of them stepped inside the dark observation deck. Another researcher greeted the pair with a nod. Collins stayed by the door while Dr. Raven sprang up on the desk and looked through the one way window down to the interview room below. Harsh fluorescent illuminated the room, showing a single table with two people on the opposite ends sitting in plain, metal padded chairs. One sat Dr. Generic, a simple man with short, dirty blond hair, sunglasses he is normally seen with set on the table and a black face mask. But on the other side sat a woman, somewhere in her 20s, looking scared and confused. Her light blue eyes continuously scanning the room. Her long, blond hair disheveled and in need of a good cleanup. That is how they found her, in an abandoned looking house, in a dusty room with a book with furious scribbles inside and a glitching PC with the game known as Minecraft on it, the main menu screen putting on a light show with the glitching. Reports of activity in the house and her disappearance from the SCP prompted action, with MTF apprehending her and bringing her to the Foundation. This surprised Dr. Generic, the one who wrote the file on the SCP and swore to study it and figure out everything about it. And yet another mystery is thrown at them and more questions needing to be answered. Then again, the Foundation is all too used to such curve balls being thrown, which is why continuous study and testing is needed. And in this case, an interview with an instance or a victim of the SCP, depending on how you feel about such things. Dr. Raven looked to the other doctor and nodded. Then the interview began. A speaker was switched on in the observation room to hear their conversation and record the whole thing.

“Hello, I would like to ask you some questions,” Dr. Generic began.

“Where am I?” the instance asked, her eyes continuously darting around.

“You are in a safe interview room. Now then, can I ask about your experience with the Dream SMP?” Dr. Generic asked gently.

“How--How did I get out? It’s impossible,” the instance’s voice laced with panic.

Dr. Raven’s ears twitched, he had a funny feeling about this whole thing but couldn’t shake it. Everything seemed fine, nothing registering on any instruments. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched from somewhere. But he continued to focus on what was ahead of him, in this case, instance SCP-6969SMP-5 getting more and more agitated. He has a psychology PHD after all, he can tell the signs of anyone in great distress. But that didn’t matter to him in the long run. As a level 4 researcher, he had the power to shut down this whole interview, but he didn’t. He needed answers right then and there. So he let Dr. Generic continue.

“Care to elaborate?” the doctor asked.

“No . . . I shouldn't be here. I can’t remember . . . . this isn’t right,” the instance was becoming more and more distressed.

The instance suddenly jumped to their feet, eyes wide with fear, her breathing becoming more and more erratic. The chair she had been sitting in fell backwards, slamming on the ground with a clang. Nobody in that room flinched.

“STOP, I can’t be here, I can’t be out here. None of this makes sense, I'll get pulled back. The others, oh my god the others. No, you have to help them, they hardly know. Sometimes they know, but it makes us forget. YOU HAVE TO HELP!” the instance screeched, her movements all over the place, even slamming the table with her fists a few times to empathize her point.

Dr. Generic stood up slowly as well, holding his hands up in submission. A member of MTF entered the room in case things got hostile. Dr. Raven leaned forward, interested in her response.

“Please, you have to calm down,” Dr. Generic pleaded with her calmly, the MTF gripping their gun tightly.

“No, no, you don’t get it. They were sucked in, the whole thing is a lie, it’s all a lie. You have to help them, anyone who goes in there--you have to help them!” she cried out, running her fingers through her hair and even tearing at it. Tears had begun to pour down the side of her face, shrieking a bunch of nonsense in the process.

“Stop the interview,” the observer ordered through the microphone.

“What? No, continue the interview, we could get vital information,” Dr. Raven hissed.

“Doctor, with all due respect, even you can see that it would be futile to try and press with the instance in this state,” the observer said.

Dr. Raven looked down to see as she pressed herself in a corner while Dr. Generic tried everything to console her. The MTF had a few more enter the room to escort her to a humanoid containment cell until they can get her to calm down and do another interview. Dr. Raven’s tail twitched in annoyance but he wasn’t stupid. Once a person had gone down this route, their emotions all over the place, no good could come of it. He looked over his shoulder at Collins who nodded in agreement. Dr. Raven sighed and relented. The observer then ordered the MTF to take the instance to her assigned cell and wait for further instructions. Dr. Generic waved them off and the instance went along, sobbing in her hands, still muttering about others. Dr. Raven leapt off the table and Collins opened the door for him to exist. The observer would be in charge of the recording they got, uploading it to the file. The pair of them would meet up with Dr. Generic to discuss what they have learned. The feeling Dr. Raven had gotten before faded away for the time being, but he was suspicious of a potential return of whatever. That’s a common occurrence in this dangerous line of work after all. Dr. Generic did catch up with them and the three of them began their walk to the nearest break room for a quick drink and a short debrief.

“Her name is Alyssa, or username ItsAlyssa,” Dr. Generic informed them as they walked.

“Why does that matter? 6969SMP-5 is just that,” Dr. Raven replied coldly.

“Doctor, they are victims, pulled into the SCP, as the file reads. Though I didn't think the thing was too keen on spitting any of its victims out,” Dr. Generic huffed.

“Yes, and that is why we need to press for another interview as soon as possible,” Dr. Raven said.

Dr. Generic shrugged. The three of them entered the break room where maybe a few other personnel sitting around. They took a table in the corner while Collins got them drinks and even took the opportunity to take off his helmet and body armor. They sat around for a moment, Dr. Generic sipping on some coffee, Collins with some tea and Dr. Raven with some plain water. Oh how Dr. Raven missed coffee, the only thing that kept him sane. But ever since the incident with 239 that turned him into this cat form and even left him with a few extra abilities, he had no choice but to give up the delicious bean water. Apparently the stuff is deadly to cats and him having a cat body, there were a lot of things he had to avoid now. So he lapped up some water while the three of them took a breath for a moment. But then Dr. Generic’s phone rang a few times. He pulled it out and looked at the alert.

“Well, what timing, a couple of instances have gone live on Twitch,” Dr. Generic hummed.

The doctor in turn set up his phone to show a twitch stream of what could be ordinary Minecraft players on a server, playing the unsuspecting block game. But if you knew the truth like the Foundation did, this was the SCP at work again. Knowing those were real people inside this Minecraft Server, putting on a performance for millions who had no clue, it would make anyone’s stomach churn. But to the Foundation, this is just a regular Tuesday. They did flip through a few streams and something caught their attention soon into the stream.

“They don’t even notice Alyssa is gone,” Dr. Generic said, stunned.

“It seems the SCP has made them forget after 6969SMP-5 escaped, interesting,” Dr. Raven hummed.

“Complete control over the environment it created, damn reality benders,” Dr. Generic fumed.

“So what now?” Collins asked as he finished his tea.

“Simply put, what we normally do, continue to observe and study,” Dr. Generic shrugged.

And Dr. Raven watched, that feeling came back. The three of them leaned closer to the screen. It glitched for some reason, causing the three of them to lean in even closer. Suddenly, words began to form on the screen in the Minecraft chat text font.

‘I can see you,’ it read.

Immediately, Dr. Generic whipped out his camera and took a picture and started to record the stream itself. Nobody from the looks of things had seen what they had just seen. The Twitch chat continued as if nothing happened, spamming ‘E’ again. Even Dr. Raven was flustered, his fur bristling a little on his back and tail. He didn’t see that coming and even if he did, he figured this reality bending SCP fell into that 20% that he couldn’t use his ability on fully. That being, deterring reality benders from doing just that, reality bending. The SCP was mocking the Foundation, clearly. The writing disappeared, followed by an ‘:)’ flashing on the screen for a brief second and then the whole stream returned to normal. The room seemed to turn cold, folks noticing it but not really making a move. All eyes turned to the three practically squishing their faces onto a tiny screen. This simple block game had produced a dangerous SCP and now it was up to the Foundation to contain the thing. But that was the issue, containing something like this would be difficult. And throwing it into the sun wasn’t an option, they didn’t need another incident where they did that to 682, what a disaster.

“So, it's aware of us,” Collins muttered angrily, leaning back in his chair.

“That actually might work in our benefit of making contact and learning more,” Dr. Generic huffed, folding his arms and drumming his fingers on them.

“Right, I suppose the next step is to increase efforts of contact through private direct messages and even donations,” Dr. Raven added.

“Right,” Dr. Generic nodded.

[imagine-lcorp]

Mustang Ride (Part XII)

A/N: Okay okay, i know, i know, it’s been a while but my life rigth now is kinda crazy, good news we’re still here!!!! Also here is to all of you who have been waiting for the continuation of this series, you’re great, love ya guys!!!!

Lena Luthor x Shapeshifter!R//Word Count: 1,348

#Mustang Ride Series: Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI - Part XII - Part XIII (WIP) -------------------------------------------------------

"How?" You whispered as Jeffrey walked around your bed. He smiled with a hint of pride and malice in her eyes and you felt a cold shiver down your spine.

"It took me a while, you know, finding you." He took a seat on a chair that stood in the corner of the room and made himself comfortable.

For a moment, the panic you started to feel around Jeffrey was replaced with anger. You remembered him from your younger years and the way he used to be didn't seem to have changed at all. He had always been annoying, believing himself the king of the playground, finding some sort of delight preying on other kids he had considered weaker than him. This time, however, the anger came from something more, the suspicion that he had been the reason you were there, trapped and chained.

"How?" You repeated.

"You remember that day in the woods, don't you? I had never seen someone do what you did that day and, I admit, you left quite an impression on me. It was the first time I ever felt truly...terrified." He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned his head towards you.

That last day of school before winter break came again to your mind. The late afternoon when Jeffrey and his friends had put their hands on you and dragged you into the forest. The useless screams that came from your mouth, the pointless fight you had tried to put against them, the monster they had forced you to become.

"But no one believed a word of what I had seen. You had disappeared after that day and I had no further evidence to proof what monster you were." His eyes reflected nothing but resentment as he looked at you. "I was the fucking boy who cried wolf."

"If that's all you wanted, hunting me, why am I here?"

"Well, things are a bit more complicated than that now, considering this is the second time I had to go after you." The corner of his lips lifted in a devilish smirk as your eyes opened in shock.

"Y-you..."

"Oh, yes. You may not know this but back in the day my family was in the hunting business. They were bounty hunters, to be more accurate. So when I took over the business, I made you my first mission."

According to Jeffrey, he had spent a good couple of years trying to track you down. All his searches had been useless until he met Roulette and she had offered a deal he couldn't really say no to. He would hunt aliens for her and in exchange he would receive a considerable amount of money, with an extra if the aliens he brought her were also good fighters. It keep going for a couple of years until Roulette asked him to go after an specific person.

She had talked to him about this alien species capable of changing its form to whatever it wanted. The problem was that she had never found one until she heard the rumors about you. So she sent him on a quest to find you and, even with the little information she had about you, he did it.

"I would have loved to just shoot you the moment I saw you but the idea of watching you get beaten by a bunch of aliens was much more compelling."

You tried to move once again, pulling yourself up with your arms, but it was useless and painful as the ache in your back and the dizziness of the sedatives hit you again. You fell back in the bed with a couple of sweat drops forming in your forehead from the effort and noticing your restrains were also doing its job at keeping you there.

"Oh, you're not getting out of here so easily. The doctors are not done yet toying with you."

"What are they doing with me?" You growled.

"I can't believe you haven't figured that yet. I guess your brain doesn't work like it used to after all the shit they have been injecting you." He smiled once again.

The door of the room opened a second later, Lillian entered with Henshaw following behind and pushing a medical cart full with medical instruments, ampules and test tubes, all shapes, sizes and colors.

"Well, I see you already came to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hex." She said and turned to look at the medical instruments. "Unfortunately, your time with our guest here is over. I must ask you to leave so we can continue with our work."

Jeffrey stepped out of the chair with an annoyed expression and walked to the other side of your bed, facing Lillian and Henshaw.

"I would like to see it, if you don't mind. I wanna be prepared to what you gonna be doing with me too." He said.

"There's no need, Mr. Hex, and I assure you we're going to be more gentle with you, if that's what you're worried about." Lillian directed him a death stare and you were confused as to why they would be doing the same to him. You were not against it if it meant making him suffer for a while but you couldn't think of a reason why they would be doing this to him. "Now, I wouldn't want to ask my partner here to escort you out of the room."

Henshaw left the cart near Lillian and stood like a sentinel, looking at Jeffrey with a death stare. "You should go."

"Have fun without me then." He said and started to walk to the door as Lillian followed his stride.

You watched the scene unfold with a frown, still confused and shocked about what Jeffrey had said. It wasn't enough that you were trapped like a lab rat in an unknown place at the mercy of Lillian Luthor and her cyborg guard dog but now Jeffrey was part of the equation.

Everyone there had a reason to keep you where you were and it wasn't easy to imagine why. Everyone seemed to have their own agenda about you. If Roulette wanted you back on the ring then, why was Lilian keeping you? If Lillian only wanted you as her test subject, why keep Roulette and Jeffrey around? And if Jeffrey wanted to mess up with you, why did he need any of them?

"Do you know the story of  Periclymenus?"

"Who?"

"He was a Greek prince. His grandfather Poseidon gave him the ability to transform himself into various animals. A lion, a snake, a swarm of bees." She pulled away, back to the medical cart. "Unfortunately, he was murdered by Heracles when he invaded his kingdom. They fought but, of course, Heracles was stronger. Periclymenus couldn't escape him and he inevitably died at the hands of the invader."

Lillian returned her attention to you and then at the medical cart. She took a syringe from it and walked towards you, to inject its content in your IV bag.

"What do you think was the cause of his defeat?" She said pulling the syringe away and not expecting a real answer from you. "If you think about it, Heracles only had his strength against Periclymenus' gift. So, how did Heracles manage what he did?"

You started to feel numb.

"Because it was still the strength of one man against the force of one that felt like a thousand." She declared. "I like to think, if Periclymenus had possessed the same strength as Heracles, he would have succeeded instead."

"I guess we will never know." It was becoming difficult to stay awake with your body feeling broken and your mind spinning.

"Oh, but we will and you're helping us it."

"What are you doing with me?" You asked once again.

"Our kingdom is at war, (Y/N), and we need a new champion. One bred from the blood of the gods, old and new." She smiled at you. "This time, I'm going to make sure we conquer." She said and all the light faded out.

[kingofthewilderwest]

So I’m speaking from my own personal spin, but I love how Fiddleford McGucket can feel like such a musician.

Characters are often incidentally musicians. Writers throw it in there without thought to how music interplays with their life. You could blink and miss it. It doesn’t frame the character’s interests or personality, and if not for one minor scene, you wouldn’t think they had musical background. 

But irl, I often meet people who have (as I affectionately call it) “Musician Brain.”

For some diehard musicians, music is embedded in our personality. You can’t take the musician out of us. We’re constantly thinking and acting out music even when there isn’t an instrument near us. Music gets entangled in quirks, subconscious behaviors, habits, actions, life choices, thought processes, and more. I feel like most fictional musician characters lack that “vibe” or “quirk”. But one thing that entertains me about McGucket is that he can be read as a That Dork With Musician Brain.

I mean like...

The two things Ford buys when McGucket arrives in Gravity Falls are microchips and banjo strings. Sure, Fiddleford might’ve said he needed them. But Ford’s charging to the store because he’s excited and grateful Fiddleford is here, and wants to purchase gifts to make him feel at home. Apparently, the comforts of home aren’t complete without music. That banjo came to the dorms back in the day, didn’t it? Ford probably saw that banjo in the dorms.

It was Important Enough(TM) to be mentioned in Journal #3: Ford set up the ground rule “no banjo playing after eight.” Why? Because otherwise, there would be banjo after eight. Wonderful, beautiful, skilled banjo music. Late at night. When Ford wanted to fucking sleep. There’d be that musician. Still playing. The fucking banjo. After eight. The fact Ford mentions this information early in his journals also means... this was dealt with right away. It had to be dealt with right away. Either because Ford had already experienced this phenomenon ahead of time (college), or because they’d already run into this problem in Gravity Falls... of banjo being played... after eight.

Have you noticed that at all of McGucket’s work stations, the banjo is there? He sets it up beside him during the journal research period. He has it by him in his Palo Alto garage. He’s even got the freaking banjo with him inside the gobblewonker. The banjo is literally part of his work environment. If Fiddleford wanted a real break from work, he could store his musical instruments anywhere. He’d leave the work station, play music, come back. But the instrument needs to be IN EASY REACH. That’s no accident. It’s there to fiddle with while he’s working, while he’s mulling over a problem, while he’s taking a one minute break... etc.

Fiddleford, while idly thinking, automatically starts doing MUSIC THINGS. For instance: hamboning on his knees while doing math calculations. (I know GF made hamboning quasi-linguistic, but if we wanted, we could suggest that before shit hit the fan, Fiddleford used hamboning as the musical thing it is.) No wonder Ford commented in the journal he could “put up with” Fiddleford’s eccentricities. It would be something that needed... tolerance. I’m imagining a quiet day in the lab, and then... whack-a-whack-a-whack-whack-a-whakkk. Try concentrating on your mind-grueling advanced research while the guy next to you is smacking up a rhythmically complicated groove using himself as a drum! Did Fiddleford get glares for that? I’m betting Fiddleford got glares for that.

Granted, flashbacks with Fiddleford don’t cover his happiest life period. He’s tense, on edge, anxious, not smiling. But maybe there’s something to be said that the one and only time we see young McGucket at ease smiling... is when he’s playing his instrument. 

By the way. It’s not just one banjo. In Palo Alto, McGucket didn’t have one instrument he could play in his “home office.” He had two, set up, right there. Two instruments. One garage. I can tell you for a fact, once the instruments start multiplying, you’re usually a lost cause.

SPEAKING OF BANJOS MULTIPLYING. When you open the front cover of Journal #3, you get blueprints labeled “From the Desk of Fiddleford H. McGucket.” Most is professional. The raccoons are eyebrow-raising. But most is professional. And then we get to the Gideon Bot, which, for NO REASON AT ALL, has a storage chamber dedicated to a “prize banjo collection.” What. What is that doing there, Fiddleford. I know that wasn’t Gideon’s idea. Why are you amassing banjos in a giant tyrant robot? 

Need to keep this guy awake through a long night? Drown him in coffee and blast those bluegrass records.

The science bros plan a serious expedition to an alien spaceship crash site. This will be an aweing experience, especially for Fiddleford, who’ll be seeing it his first time. The expedition is serious work, key to their endeavored scientific breakthroughs. It’ll be a several day rigorous hiking trip through uncivilized wilds, through forests and caves and more, through dangerous paranormal areas. They’ll only be able to carry bare essential supplies with them. There’s no room for anything besides bare essentials. What’s a bare essential? That Fiddleford can’t live two and a half days without? That he absolutely needs to bring? Apparently? His fucking banjo. He brought his fucking banjo.

Speaking of bringing banjos where no banjo should go... let’s try “parachuting through the air into the evil layer of a dream demon for a last stand apocalyptic rescue mission.” Yeah, McGucket uses the instrument like a weapon. That hurts my soul - musical instruments aren’t weapons. You could suggest it’s for self-defense that the instrument came. But... there would’ve been three hundred other things in the Mystery Shack better equipped for self-defense. And yet you parachuted hundreds of feet through the air with a banjo on your back. 

No apocalypse shelter is complete without your musical instrument!

Can’t move into the new home without the banjo, either! Basically the only thing he brought, too.

Ever thought about how, post-memory loss and life collapse, the one quality possession he manages to keep with him... is his banjo?

And he still plays and practices music consistently! He mentions in “Land Before Swine” he has an “hourly hootenanny.” It’s a self-scheduled time for music that he’s presumably repeating most days. 

Speaking of “Land Before Swine”, McGucket says he loses musical spoons to a dinosaur. It’s to note that spoons are sometimes used as percussion, including in American folk music. This isn’t McGucket speaking nonsense. This is him knowing stringed instruments and percussion.

Mental health struggles, self-inflicted memory loss, and a poor living situation have taken their toll on McGucket through the decades. But that can’t destroy how music sings through his soul. When he plays, “the age lift[s] off his face,” and Ford can see “the Fiddleford who had been [his] friend so many years ago.” McGucket is relaxed, happy, and at peace with his instrument, so much that his identity sings together with the strings. Ford recognizes his friend of old - his friend back before shit hit the fan - because that man playing banjo is who Fiddleford is.

In a way, music is what demonstrates resolution to Fiddleford’s character arc - both his growth arc, and his relationship with Ford. He starts the story as a man smiling on his instrument, playing music contently. He goes through many issues once he starts research in Gravity Falls. And then he ends the story as a man again smiling on his instrument, playing music contently. Smiling on the banjo is the bookmark start and the bookmark end, showing he’s grown back emotionally after all the struggles. Not to mention... music’s sorta the resolving moment where two old, close friends find peace. Ford and Fiddleford have had decades of guilt, pain, and consequences from their mistakes. A key symbolic moment of their relationship being mended - fully mended - is when the two can listen to the banjo together.

Again, this is my own spin, but I live for how Fiddleford McGucket comes off as so musicianny to me. As a composer who’s constantly carting a pennywhistle in my satchel... who hums with my electric toothbrush because it vibrates on middle C... who curses the fact I have apartment neighbors because otherwise I’d have my viola out at 4 AM... I’m damn charmed to encounter a fictional character who I feel emanates musician vibes, musician quirks... Musician Brain.

[apex-academy]

Chapter 5: Caring Is a Hazard to Your Health (#10)

I throw my dishes in the sink and dig up the smallest sack of flour I can find. Heading back to the cafeteria table, I thunk the bag down to free my hands.

“...” This is still weird, but too late to turn back now.

“Hey, Aidan.”

He was already staring at me, for plenty good reason.

“Yes?”

“Let me see your room key.”

“I can let you in myself if you like?”

“No, just the key, please.”

I hold out my hand.

“...”

He looks between me and the sack a few times before digging through his breast pocket and setting a key on the table.

“Please don’t blow up my room.”

“...” I’d say that’s quite a conclusion to jump to, but hoping I can get fingerprints to prove he’s not a robot or evil twin doesn’t sound much better, actually.

I nod and carefully pick up the key by the edges before scooting along to the hallway. The door shuts quietly behind me.

I look down at the key in my hand.

So. Where am I getting all the prints? The key should have his current set, at least, considering he literally just touched it. It’s the older prints that are tricky. Any of them in his room could have been left recently, so checking there won’t do me much good. 

Somewhere he only would have been earlier, then. So, it’d have to be the first or second floor. Don’t think he’s ever come in my room. And most of the common areas will have so many prints I couldn’t hope to find a particular person’s. So somewhere less popular, but somewhere he’s still been...

“...”

I circle around to the gym and nudge open the door to the electrical room. He messed with fuses in here, took wires, managed stuff to crappily announce that basketball game...

...that Arthur started...

But. There haven’t been any other events to bring people in here, and this stuff hasn’t been used for any murders recently.

God, that shouldn’t have to be a consideration. Anyway.

I go around shuffling flour out of the bag onto the soundboard and blowing it away. A few prints kind of show up, but I don’t feel like I’m using the best method here. Should've brought tape, at least. Whatever. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

I zip next door to the equipment storage. There should be tape here, but I’m not sure if any of it is clear.

I nearly run straight into someone.

“Sorry!”

At least she sidesteps me with ease.

“Oh, you needn’t worry, worm.”

“It is much more difficult than that to leave a mark on the Holy Assassin.”

“Right...”

I frown at the equipment cart she’s standing in front of.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Perusing the supplies.”

“Of course, most of these are quite lacking as instruments of assassination, but they may yet have some use.”

“As murder weapons?” She’s already thinking about this again? Guess she never stops.

“I would hardly suggest anything so vile as murder.”

But assassination is fine.

“But these could still function for those ‘games’ you mortals so like to occupy your limited time with, yes?”

She picks up a rubbery ball and prods at it experimentally.

“A dodgeball?”

“Ah, yes, that’s what you fools call it. It could work well as minimal training, yes?”

“Considering almost half of us are seriously injured? Don’t think it’d go well.”

“Hmph.”

“Then what are you here for, pray tell?”

“Oh, uh. Just looking around.” 

The last thing I want to do is vent my concerns to Tsunyasha. She probably thinks the current Aidan is a demon or something. Which wouldn’t fare well for him, but... Can’t convince her otherwise if I haven’t convinced myself who he is yet.

I look back to her.

“How do you have no fingerprints again?”

“How? I suggest you not ask questions whose answers you will never understand.”

“So it’s some... holy thing?”

“Yes.”

“Right...”

Don’t think I’m getting anything useful out of her. Don’t think I’m getting any tape out of here, either. It was a long shot.

I say goodbye and retreat to the electrical room. No one suddenly here. That’s always nice.

I wait for Tsunyasha to head out, hunt down some clear tape in the student store, and get back to work. I doubt I’m doing this right, but... if this is all a trick by the young master, I can’t leave these unguarded for long. I’m pretty sure Itsurou’s study hall should have all kinds of books on fingerprints, though... Oh well.

After a series of exciting tape-trying-to-stick-to-itself-and-ruin-everything mishaps, I get the floury prints onto some of the Apex Academy posters where I can see them. Prints from the soundboard on one end and prints from the key on the other. And...

“I feel like I’m missing 80% of the detail on these.”

As far as I can tell, they match up, though. The right overall patterns, arranged appropriately for his left hand. 

“Oh, actually...”

I run the poster to the lab and boot up a microscope. Not sure how much time I waste trying to orient myself to the thing, but at least I can try to get a closer look. Not that it’s easy trying to jump back and forth across the poster. I do think they match, though?

I can always double-check later. Just make sure I hold onto the poster for safekeeping.

I go throw it in my room before remembering Aidan’s without his key still.

“Right. Should probably give that back.”

To the cafeteria. The rest of the not-crowd has switched out by now, but Aidan’s still at the same table. He scoots back a bit as I walk up.

“Miss Kogamino! Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah, thanks. Here you go.”

I slide the key over. He just watches it for a minute.

“Right, I should look into that, too...”

“Hm?”

“Oh, er...”

“You’ll know when it’s ready, don’t worry.”

“...............”

“Well, see you.”

“See you.”

Okay, then. Back to my room for real.

“...........”

Guess I’ll just hang out for a while. Go to bed early, maybe. Can’t see much reason not to. I might not actually sleep, but... Not doing anything else, so I don’t see how it makes a difference.

“.......”

So... That really is Aidan, probably. Somehow. Which means what? Does it make him suspicious? We never saw the votes, so the whole thing could have been rigged easily. The execution could have been fake, the injuries could be fake.

But is that really something he would do? Seems awfully ludicrous, but this whole thing is pretty ludicrous. 

I flop onto my bed with a sigh.

I can investigate all I want, but in the end, I just don’t know what to think anymore.

[BACK] [NEXT]

[yfere]

Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E66(6)

A MASSIVE SHIPPING FEAST ON BOTH ENDS OF THE SPECTRUM this episode, hot DAMN. Thank you to @alarnia and @softazelma for helping with data entry. Masterpost here. I just...I don’t even have words, I’m too busy soaring.

-5 to Fjord/Jester unlike Fjord, as these two unfortunately give us a Complete Guide on how to Lose All The Battle Points—Fjord accidentally ditching Jester to get mauled by a winged monster for the third time in a row as he is Contractually Obligated to do, and Jester getting her own back by polymorphing the roc just as Fjord settled on its back, sending our dear warlock plummeting towards an early—and painful—landing. The hemorrhaging to the ship was mostly patched up by both of them being very regretful over the whole situation, Jester saying “sorry” a billion and one times, and so on. Then they dip back into point loss with Fjord Completely Failing To Be On The Wavelength when it comes to disguising as leaves, participating in dance parties, not making people exhausted with a hard ride on the moorbounders through the night,  etc etc, but these were largely made up for by Jester’s appreciation for Fjord paying for their inn stay, his continued helpfulness with Sending, and most importantly Jester taking every opportunity to point out how RIPPED and TOUGH and SMART and GOOD AT ACCENTS Fjord is as he flexes for her benefit. Overall, a rollercoaster week, but we at the lab feel it balances to point loss when you factor in the massive physical toll these two took on each other, and not in the fun way. They can do better (the fun way, for instance)

+20 to Jester/Caduceus as these two show us Battle Points Done Right, with Jester casting an insect plague in the most Caduceus of moves, and NOT ONLY THAT, but making them an Oprah BEES gif, recalling the most Iconic of Jester/Cads scenes, and the most Iconic Jester Ship Mascot, comparable only to jellyfish. Caduceus calling Jester a “sugar pea” and making her squeal and hug him, a type of #BodyContact which earns the most possible points without lips being involved. Dancing with Jester and having a grand old time. Them earning Battle Points?????? with their protracted bat-catching session, and Caduceus using literally all of his Banes so that the itty creature never so much as nicks Jester. That’s love.

+10 to Nott/Cat Shaped Creatures Speaking of lip involvement, Frumpkin got a kiss from Nott before being let down!!! Caleb better watch out, or she’ll steal his cat right out from under him!! Massive point loss however for Jannick yeeting Nott off of him for daring to ride alone, because Caleb’s precious pets are nothing if not loyal. (that’s a +15 to Caleb/Cat Shaped Creatures right there!)

+37 to Fjord/Caduceus These two have their strongest week YET, with Fjord—voluntarily! opening up about the Wildmother, and Caduceus giving some amazing advice about meditation which lets Fjord get more peaceful sleep to ASMR ocean sounds! Caduceus talking about a “shining beautiful” destiny (always a point earner!), and opening up about HIS Wildmother dreams and past and quests as well! Caduceus saying he has faith in Fjord—though there’s some point loss as Caduceus seems to have joined Nott’s “There is Evil in the Fjord Club” by implying it’s only his good friendships keeping him on the straight and narrow, smh Caduceus. Cads adorably suggesting that they can ALSO stop in the abyssal temple before they leave town if that’s what Fjord wants, like visiting a gift shop. Caduceus as usual being the first to Fjord’s side for That Good Hjealing and Emotional Sjupport, which Fjord petulantly demands, and Fjord encouragingly saying “C’mon, baby” as Caduceus looks around for the pursuing roc. In the Creepy Tunnels, Caleb gets +2 to Cockblocking as Fjord wanted to be the one to help Caduceus out, but Caleb gets the honor. Later Cads helps Fjord look for magical arms and armor though, that’s pretty sweet.

+42 to Jester/Yasha LOVE??? LOVE WAS SAID????? ANNNND THEY HUGGED?!?!?!?!?! The “we” puts ever so slight a damper on things, but that is a Point Earner right there, with a lovely conversation about being Yasha’s New Family and defending her from anything that would upset her. Yasha getting teary, saying Jessie once more and making a joke about the king’s instrument being a rock harp, like….they are love?? Love?????? AND, annnnnnnd they get the Sexy Points for “Comes more with another person” HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS JESTER I’M LOVsjkajkgakajksakjkasjksajkfukewk;HA;GKJ BKfjkcbdjabkjsdbalkbB  SJAK BKJBSAKJK;jkjdasbjksbjkdakasdsfnajdknmbznb

-1 to Beau/Pets While she gets point gains for charming a baby roc with some staff scritches and thrown food, she gets point loss for beaning the poor baby with that same staff, though luckily she doesn’t join Nott in the Baby Killing Club of this campaign. -1 to Caleb/Vulture Culture as despite using all of his spells to Live a Bird-Brained Life, he unfortunately drops his form too quickly to save Fjord, gets bit back to wizard form by the baby roc and told to shut up with the bird screeching by Beau. But Frumpkin gains some points for looking successfully for the pursuing roc.

-20 to Nott/Yasha You get the sense that Nott is trying to mend things with Yasha, but it always falls apart and falls apart horribly. “We’re safe in this smoke” leads to Yasha immediately leaving it, and after Nott has her flask taken she spends the rest of the episode talking about how shady and suspicious Yasha is which even Caleb “Nott is Never Wrong” Widogast can’t agree with. Searching the darling barbarian’s pockets and accusing her until Yasha gets fed up and yells that she didn’t FUCKING take it.

+15 to Beau/Yasha/Jester as they have another stellar week. Featuring Classic Threesome Moments, including “Should I give you some private time alone?” with both Beau and Yasha Very Much Wanting Her To Stay, and Jester sharing the Sugar Momma loveliness she’d been having with Beau with Yasha, in the form of a suggestive ring gifting joke and “dressing Yasha up” in the fancy clothing Beau recovered for the both of them. The three of them touching the stone Celestials and listening to their music

+17 to Beau/Yasha *starts singing Beyonce* she liked it, so she put a ring on it! ‘Nuff said. Beau’s terribly awkward but wonderful “We’ll protect you with our lives” also: goooooooooooooooooooooooood. Beau being incredibly worried over using Yasha as bait, more worried over dead Celestials, but forging ahead because they both know it’s the best option they have at the moment *sniffs* it’s Some Angst Here. Beau saying Yasha has “dope wings” and might be a “dope angel in irons” and suggesting that Yasha may have gotten her name by sleeping with a lot of people, the sheer dumbassery of which makes Yasha facepalm herself in the hopes of getting a Lesbian Amnesia concussion.

+20 to Beau/Jester as Dimension Door gets used once more for an incredibly sapphic and beautiful moment. Beau grabs onto Jester to try to throw her to safety, but stays when Jester asks, and Jester getting them both to safety?? Dare I say, Romance? Dancing together, loving shiny loot together, running their hands along the side of the tunnel and detectiving together. Beau saying Jester is pretty awesome, as always!

+4 to Fjord/Cowboy Vibes as for one glorious moment, he was yeehaw riding that roc. Alas.

+11 to Caleb/Fjord. Although a sincere effort was made, these two did not in fact earn any Battle Points as Caleb’s furious handwringing, running around, and smacking faulty cocoons and tossing feathers repeatedly failed to help Fjord out of his situation with the roc—only acting as a feathery transport to a cleric managed to do the poor man any good. Nonetheless, these two continued to Same Hat on planning as usual, going full speed (or not at all) with the moorbounders, Caleb directing Fjord towards Facely duties but admirably performing on some Facely duties himself when they first roll into town and get the side-eye. Fjord as always being Very Attuned to Caleb’s navigational skills, wanting to know what direction they’re going and wanting Caleb to do translation duty. Being excellent detective partners as they have been since the circus in identifying bodies and bones together. Point loss for Fjord apparently thinking that the best way to get Caleb’s attention is to throw an eldritch blast in the vicinity of his cat instead of, say, shaking him or something. Fjord…….when are you going to be nice to other people’s pets? Will you ever?

+1 to Caleb/Essik “But of course you must know of THIS EXTREMELY FAMOUS AND HANDSOME MAN ESSIK THEYLAS who will ABSOLUTELY VOUCH FOR US, IN FACT PLEASE ASK HIM TO I NEED AN EXCUSE TO TALK TO HIM.”

+5 to Jester/Graffiti as she pulls off a difficult prank in changing the sign to the “Ruddy Poon” in full view of the whole community. One of her weaker jokes of the episode, though, so less point gain.

+3 to The Mighty Nein/Oban as he’s apparently super impressed with how quickly and trustworthily they brought Yasha to the area. Compliments Jester on her singing skills. He must be a good guy then, right? Right?

-4 to Nott/Jester for Nott claiming erroneously that rocs eat leaves to Jester, absolutely wanting Jester to “waste” a spell looking for her missing flask (that Jester stole). Point gains for Jester casting lesser restoration on Nott and worrying about her alcoholism and recklessness to a heartbreaking degree….but unfortunately, balancing out to point loss considering the physical and emotional toll her thievery resulted in as Nott panicks and takes out her feelings on the rest of the party. We at the lab live in fear on what will happen once Nott discovers who IS responsible

+14 to Caleb/Jester she…..makes him laugh???? A rare accomplishment for which There Must Surely Be a Medal??? This alone earns All The Points for an Iconic Moment, but Caduceus gets +7 to Cockblocking for being the one Eagle Caleb carts around when the offer was originally extended to Jester. Caleb also catching onto Jessie (thank you Nott for this nickname I despise) and looking soft at everything she does, and dancing, and being the first to adorably compare Jester to a snap pea. Caleb agreeing with Jester that building bridges sounds nice. Point loss for Jester making far too much fun of Caleb for not knowing her demon stories and not seeing the obelisk, prompting him to weakly defend himself that he’s “doing his best.” More point loss for Caleb also pushing to ride the moorbounders to exhaustion, and just ignoring Jester’s “feelings” to talk to Caduceus, showing a lack of trust that is UNACCEPTABLE.

-500 to Nott/Alcohol Which needs no explanation.

+16 to Caleb/Caduceus as these boys get Good Quality Time, with Caleb flying Caduceus around everywhere, Caduceus continuing to think Caleb Magic is the Solution to Everything by suggesting alarms at the cave entrance and seeking out Caleb’s cat-based assistance three billion times. Caleb asking for Caduceus’ opinion and feelings specifically for guidance on what they should do, also thinking Caduceus Magic is the Solution to Everything by asking for a detect magic which Caduceus could not provide. Once more very emphatically forbidding Caduceus from wasting his spell slots on Daylight, because like a #KnightInShiningArmor Caleb wants to chivalrously cast that spell himself with the driftglobe. Caduceus chivalrously picking up the tab and buying incense both for himself and Caleb. Caleb holding onto Caduceus’ wrist for a full minute and proving Caduceus is a favorite for his Special Buffing Spells,  because the wizard is too much of a scaredy-cat to just hold his hand, I suppose.

+20 to Everyone/Detective Work for finding gems, bones, maps, emblems, and identifying the precise coagulation of blood to determine when it was spilled! Nothing Conclusive was learned, but boy did it increase the Creepiness Factor of the episode!

-100 to The Mighty Nein/This One Particular Roc who will hold  a grudge against them for the rest of time, woe unto them should they ever venture into the Barbed Fields again.

+19 to Jester/Cosplay of the Week for a much-complimented leaf disguise, and for dressing up in the bloody garb of some mauled nobles. Point loss because it was unclear to most of the judges that “leaf” is what she was going for, and not “healthy edible vegetable”

[sportyheroesimagines]

Just wondering when you’ll make another part to your Soulmate Dabi series, take your time though. :’>

yeah, series are hard for me because just like my life nothing is thought through or well planned 

“Oh, Dabicchi,” Toga rasps as Dabi grabs her by the throat.

He snarls, forcing her back against the wall. The toes of her loafers are barely scraping against ground. Her mouth curls into a sick smile as a hot blush rises to her cheeks. She stares at him with her shimmering cat-like eyes, tongue hanging from her lips. Her eyelids flutter and orbs roll up into her sockets. Dabi releases some of the pressure from her windpipe, but he still grips the girl by her neck. Toga grins.

“If you’re gonna choke a girl, at least buy her dinner first,” she giggles hoarsely, “Didn’t know you were into things like this. So pervy.”

Dabi snarls. His free hand bursts with flames. The threatening blue glow flickers over Toga’s face, gleaming against her pearly canines. He applies more pressure, and she gasps for air again. His face twists angrily, pulling and stretching the skin around in staples in a nightmarish scowl. Toga pulls a knife from her thigh holster; she tries to stab him, but Dabi grabs the blade with his flaming hand. Metal and blood drips down his forearms as he melts her weapon, crushing it in his grip.

Dabi lets her go. Toga falls to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. He looks down at her, before grabbing the back of her sweater and lifting her to her feet. Dabi menacingly places his hand atop her head and bends down to her level.

“Do something like that again, and, I promise, I promise, I’ll burn you alive. Got it?”

Toga nods; Dabi pets her hair.

“Good. Now, you’re going to make it up to me.”

White sheets. White walls. White curtains. White dust dancing through the air like a dream as you slowly open your eyes. Vision hazy, hands heavy, you look over at the heart rate monitor, beeping steadily. You’re alive. Alive, but with tubes and wires pouring out of your body, hooking you up to various machines. You blink slowly and take long, slow, deep breathes, nose slightly wrinkling at the scent of antiseptic hanging over the sickness’s subtle stink. Your dry tongue runs over chapped lips in a lame attempt to moisten them. Bits and pieces of your memory are gone, like a movie missing frames, hacked to pieces by a mysterious editor. You grimace as the space between your eyebrows begins to pound like a drum. Rolling your head to the side, you stare out of the window. It’s nighttime. Again. 

Just how many days will you miss?

How many times will you wake up  in an infirmary?

A young male nurse walks into the room, pushing a small cart. He wears baby pink scrubs that compliment his rosy rabbit nose. He walks over to your bedside.

“I’m Tomeo,” he says with a polite nod, floppy ears moving with him, “I’m going to be taking your vitals, alright?”

You nod slowly, and he begins taking your temperature and blood pressure. The door to your hospital room opens again. This time, a middle-aged doctor walks in holding a clipboard in her hand.

“Hello, (Last Name)-san,” the woman says, “My name is Dr. Nanase.”

She wears large glasses with circular rims. They sit upon her freckled nose and magnify her warm brown eyes. Her thick brunette hair tied into a loose braid that hangs over her shoulder. Dr. Nanase smiles; her face is kind and motherly.

“Temperature and blood pressure are stable, Dr. Nanase,” Tomeo speaks up, placing his instruments back onto the cart.

“That’s great. How are you feeling?” she asks.

“I … I’m feeling okay,” you croak, throat dry and scratchy, “I’m just really tired.”

“That’s to be expected. You were in and out of consciousness for two days,” Dr. Nanase says as she checks your vitals, “Your body’s been through a lot.”

“What exactly happened? I don’t remember much.”

“When we found you, you had multiple stab wounds on your arms and your abdomen. You were fading in and out of consciousness before you went into cardiac arrest. For the next several hours, it was a fight to keep you from coding. Who ever stabbed you apparently laced the blade with a poison.”

“Who brought me here?“

“I don’t, but whoever did saved your life.”

They saved my life, huh? Dr. Nanase flips through the pages of your chart, then smiles at you again.

“Your vitals look very strong. You’ve stabilized and the majority of the poison has been cleared from your system,” she says, “If you hold steady for the next few hours, you can be discharged if you’d like.”

“Yes,” you can’t say it quickly enough, “I’m … tired of being in infirmaries. I just want to go home.”

“Well, they do say you heal faster in a comfortable place,” Dr. Nanase says, holding the clipboard to her buxom chest, “I’ll see what I can do to get your discharge expedited. In the mean time, there’s someone who has been very eager to see you.”

She nods to Tomeo, and he slides the door open. Your blonde senpai comes bursting into the room, dressed in her civilian clothes. Takeyama rushes you, taking you into her arms and holding you tightly. Even in her normal state, she’s still has a lot of strength. It hurts. It actually hurts quite a bit, but, in teh same breath, it also feels quite good. She lets you go, but her hands still grip your shoulders tightly.

“Oh my freaking god! What the hell!” she shouts, “If I knew you were going to end up in the hospital, I wouldn’t have even went to see Takeru! Are you alright? Those old hags out front wouldn’t tell me anything. Hey, is she going to be alright?”

Dr. Nanase smiles, “(Last Name)-san is going to make a full recovery. She can be discharged today.”

Takeyama sighs and loosens her hold.

“I see you have good someone to take care of you,” Dr. Nanase says.

“Damn straight,” Takeyama says. And you can’t help but to smile a bit.

The doctor chuckles, “Good. I’ll have Tomeo get your paperwork started right away. Please take it easy, (Last Name)-san.”

She bows politely then leaves your hospital room; Tomeo follows in suit, sliding the door closed behind him. He tails after Dr. Nanse as she flips through the pages of your chart again, scratching down several notes on a separate notepad. She hands the nurse the clip board and sends him on his way. Dr. Nanase sighs, stretching her shoulders. She walks into an empty doctors’ lounge, decorated with one long sofa, several small tables and some chairs. She takes off her glasses and places the notepad on the table. Sliding off her white lab coat, her skin melts down her face and breasts.

Toga grins as she sheds her second skin like a serpent. She slips the doctor’s coat over her nude body and holds the glasses as she skips to a small closet. She opens it, and a woman, bound with rope and tape, flinches when the light hits her face. She trembles, hiding her beaten face behind loose waves of brown hair. Toga bends down and lifts Nanase’s chin. She gently places the glasses on her face, then kisses her duct-taped lips.

“Thanks for letting me borrow these. I’m keeping the jacket though,” Toga says, “Be good and stay quiet.”

Toga pats her head and closes the closet. She tears the note from the notepad, sliding it into her jacket pocket. The girl grins as she slips out of the lounge unnoticed, making her way to the nearest stairwell. She hops on the railing and allows gravity to pull her body downwards. Toga makes her way to the back of the hospital, to a small section where two large dumpsters sit and where Dabi waits.

He stands, leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The scent of tobacco fills his nose over the stench of the garbage. He watches the thin lines of smoke disappear into the dark sky. 

“Hey, Dabicchi, I’m back!” she says, waving with one hand, holding the jacket closed with the other.

He turns his head to face her, but says nothing.

“(Name)’s okay by the way. Lookin’ to make a full recovery soon,” Toga gives him a thumbs up.

Still he doesn’t speak to her. 

“Oh, right! Here you go,” Toga sings as she hands over the personal information she’d gathered on you, “I’m off the hook right?”

Dabi flicks his cigarette on the ground and stomps out the glowing butt. He snatches the paper from her, looking over your name and address. Toga grins at him. She throws herself at Dabi, but he swiftly avoids her grabbing hands.

“Wait, are you still mad at me?” she pouts.

Dabi folds the piece of paper carefully, sliding it into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He looks down at the blond girl who stares up at him with with her big eyes. Dabi sucks his teeth.

“You’re off the hook.”

He walks away from her. Toga leaps happily behind him, skipping with a warm smile stretching her cheeks. Dabi stops dead in his tracks; the high schooler bumps into his back. She rubs her forehead, looking at him with confusion.

“I’ll called it even this time,” he says, “But I’m dead serious about what I said so you ever don’t forget it.”

Toga stops. She doesn’t feel fear; not many things genuinely got under her skin. Her blood doesn’t get cold; it runs through her veins that way. But the threatening look in his icy blue eyes, the overwhelming murderous intent emanating from like a cold front, it raises the hair at the back of her neck. 

[awesomelephuoclocblog-blog]

FunnelVio Review: Best Funnel Builder of 2020

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[withbloodiedfingertips]

in loving memory -  a screenplay

as with most things i’ve been writing lately, this was an assignment for my creative writing class that i never got around to sharing! i posted some of it on my main account but i did wind up finishing it and, while it’s not the best and i may or may not have based it off of a certain pair of twins, it was still fun to write. it is a bit sad so i’m warning you in advance but i hope you enjoy!

side note: i know the formatting’s messed up so if anyone wants the link to the actual doc to read it, let me know!

INT. - JULIAN'S OPERATION ROOM - DAY

The inside of the operating room is practically empty, save for a singular operating table and cart stocked full of various medicines, atop which rests a metal tray holding a slew of bloodied medical tools. Julian - a 25 year old man who looks far more disheveled than most others his age - stands beside the cart, scalpel in hand, staining the towel in his hands crimson as the chrome color returns to its blade. A knock startles him out of his cleaning, metal clanking against the floor, swearing under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the instrument. He sighs bitterly, fixing the door with a scathing glare.

JULIAN

(calling out to the person behind the door, frustrated)

Come in!

In steps Zachary - a near mirror image of Julian, though with far more scars and tattoos, dressed in far shabbier clothing than his brother - a smug grin on his face. A pack of cigarettes bursts out of the right front pocket of his jeans, in the left, the shiny metallic handle of a gun glinting beneath the bright overhead lights of the operating room. 

ZACHARY

(tauntingly)

How'd the operation go, little brother?

Julian shoots him a glare, one that Zachary responds to with only a nonchalant shrug, clearly still expecting him to answer.

JULIAN

(through gritted teeth)

Asks the man who was supposed to be here to help me hours ago.

Zachary winces under the heat of his brother's words, fussing with the zipper of his leather jacket. There's a beat of silence before he musters up the courage to respond.

ZACHARY

Sorry. I ran into a bit of trouble on the way over here.

Julian raises a skeptic brow.

JULIAN

What kind of trouble?

Zachary doesn't hesitate with his response, voice dipping into a far more serious tone than the joking one he used earlier.

ZACHARY

Nothing you need to worry about. I took care of it.

Another beat of silence passes. Julian takes this moment to return his attention back to the scalpel in his hand, not before he notices Zachary's narrowed eyes at the other tools on the tray, still coated in a thick layer of blood.

JULIAN

(impatiently)

What?

Zachary shakes his head as if he's snapping himself out of a daze.

ZACHARY

Sorry. It's just...

JULIAN

Just?

He hesitates for a second, almost as if he doesn't want to say the words out loud, before speaking again.

ZACHARY

You're usually faster at cleaning up.

Zachary watches as his brother's lips curl into a grim smile, nodding in understanding at what the fate of the patient he'd seen that day must've been.

JULIAN

(musing)

He was young, you know. Just a few days shy of his twenty-fourth birthday.

ZACHARY

You know how much I wish I could've been here to help.

Julian's gaze becomes stone cold, the words that come from his mouth sharp and succinct, meant to impart the severity of the situation of his naive twin.

JULIAN

That's the third time this month alone that you've said that.

Zachary looks physically wounded by his brother's coldness. His pointer finger drifts instinctively to the trigger of his gun, tapping it lightly in a frantic rhythm, in a feeble attempt to calm his nerves. He swallows, struggles to find an excuse, but comes up with nothing but the dryness in his throat.

ZACHARY

I'm trying, alright? Things are getting dangerous out there, Julian. I can't-

JULIAN

(with more than a bit of venom)

Can't what, Zachary? Spare even a second out of your busy day, dealing drugs and gambling in crappy bars, to help save someone's life?

Julian doesn't even acknowledge his brother's silence - simply fills the void of sound with the sound of metal clanging against glass, liquid pouring into glass, the quiet hiss of peroxide bubbling as any remaining germs are cleaned straight off the surface of the scalpel. Zachary tenses, looks at the wheels on the cart as if he's contemplating kicking one of them, before deciding against it with a shake of his head.

ZACHARY

(under his breath)

I thought you trusted me.

For a minute, Zachary simply stares at him, both transfixed by his brother's swift movements as he moves on now to a pair of forceps and anxious as to whether or not he heard his words at all. Once Julian has finished cleaning the forceps, his demeanor seems to have shifted, the aura he emits no longer one of disappointment but of sadness, regret. Some feeling that Zachary has a hard time placing, until he speaks again.

JULIAN

(in a whisper)

I used to trust you.

Julian looks pained to even hear the words leave his mouth, brown eyes holding such deep melancholy that Zachary doesn't even have the time to be offended by his words. Instead he rests a hand on his twin's shoulder, turning Julian to face him,

ZACHARY

(devastated, almost as if he were trying to hold back tears)

Then why don't you now? What changed, Julian?

Julian remains silent, unable to meet Zachary's gaze, no matter how desperately his brother might want him to. Zachary looks as if he might break, as if any sudden movement Julian might make would shatter him like glass, irreparable.

ZACHARY (CONT’D)

What do I have to do to earn it back?

Julian nods down towards the pack of cigarettes in Zachary's pocket, who lets go of his twin to wrap his fingers around the carton. His grip on them is almost possessive, as if they are one of the few things in this world that still brings him some joy, fearful of what Julian might do if he lets them go.

JULIAN

Getting rid of those would be a good place to start.

Zachary's biting the inside of his cheek now, and it's clear by the way his jaw is set that he's beyond displeased with Julian's suggestion.

ZACHARY

(indignantly)

I'm down to a pack a week, alright? I can't exactly quit cold turkey.

Julian nods understandably. The gesture comes so naturally to him, almost on instinct, but it relieves some of the conversation's tension all the same.

JULIAN

I know. I would never expect you to do that.

Zachary lets out a sigh of relief, a relief that's short-lived, once he realizes that his brother hasn't finished speaking yet. The right side of Julian's mouth quirks up into a knowing smile, while Zachary's remains neutral, as undisturbed of an expression as he can muster.

JULIAN (CONT’D)

But last time I saw you, there were two cigarettes in that box. Now there looks to be about, hm, eight?

Zachary doesn't even fight the accusation, opting instead to change the subject as quickly as he possibly can.

ZACHARY

What about you?

Julian tries to not let the question affect him, to mirror that practiced calm Zachary currently has so deeply etched into his features, but it's clear his brother caught him off-guard.

JULIAN

What about me?

Zachary rolls his eyes, scoffing at Julian's pathetic attempt to feign innocence.

ZACHARY

Don't play dumb, Julian. I've seen the empty bottles of whiskey piling up around our place.

Julian readjusts the cuffs of his white lab coat, stalling for enough time to form a proper response.

JULIAN

That's different.

ZACHARY

How?

JULIAN

I'm doing it in moderation.

ZACHARY

(sarcastically)

Because drinking an entire bottle of whiskey and passing out on the bathroom floor every weekend is definitely 'in moderation'.

Julian stays silent, the only noises in the room are the near silent sounds of their breathing and the clink of a metal chain. From beneath his shirt he pulls out a locket, a motion that Zachary mirrors with the one around his own neck. They're matching, each engraved with the other's name on it and as they each pry them open, inside lies a picture of both of them when they were young with their mother, her arms wrapped around them and the proudest smile on her face.

JULIAN

(looking down at the locket wistfully)

You remember what mom made us promise, before she died?

ZACHARY

To ask the nurse what kind of perfume she wore so she could buy some for herself?

This earns him a chuckle from Julian, who shakes his head, the melancholy from before back and more evident than ever in his warm brown irises, which fix Zachary with a knowing glance.

JULIAN

That, no matter what, we'd keep each other from dying of anything other than old age.

Zachary sighs. A happy sigh, one that tugs at the edges of his lips, pulling them into that goofy grin that never fails to bring a smile to Julian's own face. Zachary pulls the cigarettes out of his pocket, holding them out to Julian, whose brows furrow, his expression growing puzzled.

ZACHARY

I can't promise you that I won't buy more but... it's a start.

Julian takes the pack and tucks it into his own coat pocket, clearly grateful that his brother's willing to make such a sacrifice, even if it is a small one.

He pauses to think for a moment before pulling a flask out of his back pocket and shoving it in Zachary's hands, as if the flask were coated in acid that threatened to eat straight through his skin, if he didn't let go of it fast enough.

JULIAN

I have five backups at home, so it won't stop me from drinking, but it's the biggest, so...

Zachary tucks the flask into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Julian, believing they're done with this conversation, starts to reach out for the next tool he needs to clean, only to be crushed in a hug by his brother. He freezes in Zachary's strong grip for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally deciding to wrap his arms around him.

ZACHARY

(in a whisper)

Thank you, Julian.

Julian tears up at the desperation in Zachary's voice, at how he's begun to shake ever so slightly in his arms. He holds on tighter to his brother - with such strength that it nearly knocks the wind out of him. But Julian doesn't notice, simply keeps holding onto him.

JULIAN

I should be the one thanking you. Without that money of yours, I wouldn't be here right now.

The scene ends with Zachary finally worming his way out of Julian's grip, taking one of the tools up from the tray and beginning to clean it. Julian rolls his eyes and snatches it up from him, choosing not to scold him for sanitizing it incorrectly but teaching him the proper way, nodding towards another towel so he can mirror his movements. And, with a final shared bit of laughter between the two of them at Zachary making yet another mistake, everything fades to black.