#only mad scientists and their housekeepers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettyfrommars · 10 months

Text

Dr. Munson & The Monster

mad scientist!Eddie x The Monster x fem!Reader

Based on a sweet ask I got about how Reader's boyfriend cheats on us, and then we get revenge with his dad. I'm sure this was not what they had in mind 👀 my apologies. wc: 1.7k

18+Only, mature content, smut, cheating, mention of monster sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, breeding!kink, mention of being forced to live at the castle, mention of male impotence. Frankie and Reader are 25+, doctor!Eddie is 40+.

Things with you and your boyfriend Frankie were complicated. When he first put you over his shoulder and carried you back to the castle, determined to be your mate, you wondered if it would work out. But, you’d grown to love that zipper-neck lothario, and the enormous cock attached to him. Munson’s Monster was famous by that time for being the first reanimated human, and he had so many women throwing their panties at him, it was intimidating for you at first.

“Baby, where are you going?” You called to him from the bed where you were in one of your sexiest nightgowns, draped perfectly to expose the curve of your hip that drove him bonkers.

“Out!” But he didn’t actually say it, he just grunted it, stomping off toward the balcony on stiff legs. He liked to use the thick vines on the side of the building to climb down.

He flung the terrace doors wide open, and you watched him make his clumsy descent with a shake of your head. “You’ll break your neck again one of these days, you know that baby? Just use the front door next time!”

He was too busy banking on his arm strength to hold his substantial weight to look up at you, but he did offer a growl and a grunt, and by the time he dropped to the ground in a crouch, there were tears glistening on your lash line.

The first few months together had been so rich with discovery and the promise of new love. Frankie mated you from sunup to sundown, stretching you out and chasing his release with animalistic passion, the likes of which you’d never experienced before. After a few weeks, you were confessing your love; there was even talk of planning an October wedding.

But, the honeymoon phase was over, as they say, and word had made its way back to you that Frankie was getting in bed with every village woman within arms reach. They all snickered and laughed behind your back when they saw you in town.

You watched him stumble into the night, and then you peeled yourself away from the balcony and wiped your eyes.

You didn’t want to be alone again. The only people who lived in the castle besides you and Frankie were Dr. Munson, his assistant Igor, and a housekeeper named Frau Blucher. You put your silky robe on and brought a candelabra downstairs with you, following the golden glow of light coming from under the door of Dr. Munson’s library.

You knocked first, because he was a very private man, and you were paranoid that he hated you for whatever reason. Maybe he didn’t think you were good enough for his creation?

“Enter,” a gruff voice bellowed from inside.

Edward Munson, brilliant surgeon and mad scientist, was hunched over his desk, fingers flying from inkwell to paper as he scribbled notes in his journal. Long, dark curly hair wild around his shoulders, with a touch of gray at the sides, and fingertips stained black from the ink.

“What do you want?” He grumbled, never looking up from the paper.

He knew it was you. He recognized the way your footsteps sounded on the floor above, the cadence of your knock, the way his heart jumped into his throat whenever you were near.

You shut the door behind you, pushing it until it clicked. A cozy fire roared in the hearth, the air smelled of old books, pipe tobacco, and leather. You intertwined your fingers in front of you and went to take a seat by the fire.

Eddie finally glanced up, your silence making him curious. That was when he saw your puffy face and the tears in your bloodshot eyes. The horrible way his “son” treated you was no secret among the house, and sometimes his thoughts found their way to wondering how it would’ve worked out if he’d found you first, and not Frankie.

With the pen still in his hand, he sat back in his seat. “I’m sorry this keeps happening. You deserve much better than this.”

You snapped a look at him. He was always so grumpy with you, this was the first time he’d ever offered you any semblance of comfort.

The nightgown under your robe was so tight to your skin that he could see the outline of your breasts and the way you weren’t wearing any undergarments. He cast his eyes back down at his desk, ashamed for even allowing himself to dream.

Pausing in the middle of the room, on your way to the couch by the fire, you were struck with a sudden epiphany: Dr. Munson was attracted to you. How had you never noticed it previously? The way the light from the fire danced on his skin, making his dark eyes sparkle.

Driven by loneliness and a sudden, rabid burst of horny, you slinked over to the big oak desk, hitching your ample hip out to rest it at the edge. The muscles in Eddie’s jaw flexed, eyes anchoring to yours, refusing to let them roam your body like they wanted to.

“What do you want from me?” His tone was tight, his cock twitching in his pants at how close you were. “You should go back to your room.”

What you wanted was to get back at your neglectful, cheating boyfriend. He got to have his fun several nights a week with whoever he wanted. Why couldn’t you have the same?

You came around the desk to be closer, now your leg was touching his. You let your hand graze up along your inner thigh over your nightgown, lips parted as you watched him from under hooded eyes. “I want you to touch me, doctor.”

Dr. Munson hasn’t been with a woman intimately for years. Mostly because he was a recluse who had no patience for the small talk required for getting to know someone, but also—he’d been harboring a secret crush on you since that first day Frankie brought you home.

His eyes flicked from the outline of your cunt to your face. “Show me,” he told you, pushing the sleeves up on his shirt.

Eager to please him, you ran your hands up your thighs to shimmy the silky skirt up around your hips, giving him the perfect view of your kitten.

Eddie’s mouth went dry at the sight, his brows knitting together. He inched forward to brace one hand on your thigh while the other worked a finger along your slit, hissing at your wetness. You yanked down the front of your nightgown to play with your nipples.

“Get on the desk,” he demanded, unbuttoning his shirt.

You had your knees bent, feet on his shoulders, quivering as his fingers spread you, his tongue seeking out the special nub that Frankie could never find. The scientist that he was, he had studied a woman’s anatomy extensively, and wanted to use his gathered knowledge to please you.

“Your mouth feels so good, doctor,” you whimpered.

He pulled away, chin dripping with a mix of saliva and your arousal, and then he worked a finger down, slipping in one, two, and then three. You were all the way back on the desk now, knocking things over as you writhed, spilling the inkwell.

He got to his feet, pushing his pants down to expose a generous pink length. You propped on your elbows to lick your lips and watch as he rubbed the tip along your slit with a groan, frowning in concentration.

“Is this what you want?” He mumbled, pulling open your lips to watch how well you took his tip.

You sat up to meet his mouth, fingers clawing into his crazy hair as you forced his lips open with your tongue. “I want you to give me a baby,” you begged. You found each other's eyes then, hovering on the implication of what was being asked. “Because we know Frankie can’t.”

It was true. As much of a medical miracle and scientific treasure Frankie was, Dr. Munson suspected his sperm was no longer viable. Sometimes he blamed his skill as a surgeon for how Frankie had turned out, but he had to be gentle with himself—that brain Igor found for him was not the organ of an intellectual.

Locking eyes with you, he sank all the way in, filling you to the base at first thrust, making you both cry out. He cursed, bracing his hands on the desk for leverage to piston his hips against you. You held his face between your hands and matched his need with your tongue.

His deft fingers moved from working your nipple to your clit, watching you unravel before his eyes. It wasn’t until he felt your walls flutter around his cock and heard you whimper his name that he allowed his release.

He grunted, fingers digging into your soft hips. He hadn’t tended to himself in days, and so the potential for seeds to be planted deep in your womb was strong.

It took a while for him to finish pumping it all in, and then you stretched back on the huge desk, planting your feet, knees wide. Maintaining eye contact with him, you used your fingers to push his cum deeper inside of you, tilting your hips up, holding it there, and then rubbing the excess up through your folds, before bringing them to your mouth to suck.

He kissed your stomach and your breasts, up your throat, sticking his own fingers inside to keep any from leaking out. “Stay like this until I say you can go,” he mumbled against your mouth. “And when it starts to drip down your leg, I want you to remember who put it there.”

“Yes, doctor,” you whined, listening to the plop of the tiny ink droplets as they fell from the desk and collected in a puddle on the floor.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older eddie munson #doctor eddie munson #frankensteins monster #the monster

272 notes · View notes

guilty-pleasures21 · 9 days

Text

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

2. Um, getting closer?

Part 1 - the divorce

Warnings: Brief mentions of cheating and rape.

----------------------------------------------------------

She was sat at the kitchen island, typing away on the new laptop Miguel had gotten her when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

“Querida,” he began softly, bending over to rest his head on her shoulder. “¿Qué tal, cariño? (What's up, sweetheart?)”

She startled at his sudden appearance, then curled into herself as the woodsy, spicy scent of him took over all her thoughts. “Oh! Uh … I’m just … I’m researching protocols.”

Mierda, she was cute when she was flustered. He raised his head to nip at her earlobe, chuckling when she flinched in response, then he began trailing his lips down the side of her neck. “Mmm, querida.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the feeling of his low voice rumbling against her neck. The only complaint she could think to have was the way he kept touching her: tender, appreciative, driving her mad with every brush and stroke. “Did you … want something, Miguel?”

“Just you.” He grinned and cuddled her against him, delighting in the way she squirmed in his arms as she tried to control her body’s natural response to him.

“Miguel …” she whined, hunching over to try to minimise contact with him. Miguel sighed and moved his hands to her waist as he straightened. He gave her a final squeeze, then sank into the seat beside her.

“Have you had lunch yet?” he asked. X nodded as she swivelled around to face him.

“Yup! Have you?” He hadn’t been in the house when she’d woken up and the only answer she’d received from Penni had been ‘business’. She hadn’t wanted to know more about what ‘business’ entailed, so she’d left the matter alone and decided to try out the swimming pool instead.

He reached out to twirl a strand of her damp hair around his finger, then he leaned forward to tuck it behind her ear. “Yeah. What did you have, preciosa?”

He leaned back in his seat and rested his elbow on the table, spreading his legs wide as he propped his head up on his fist. She did her best not to let her eyes trail down his broad chest or linger on his muscled thighs. But holy shit, he was hot! “Uh, Paula made some carbonara for me. What did you have for lunch?”

“Lasagne.” He’d told his housekeeper to make his cute little scientist anything she asked for. He was only sorry that he hadn’t been able to join her. But he’d had to take care of his associates now that that scumbag Francesco wasn’t going to be interfering with their activities any longer. “Have you started packing?”

“It’s not like I have much to pack, Miguel,” she pointed out, her tone more familiar now that they’d spent a little more time together. He’d told her last night that they’d be leaving for America soon - his home base where he’d be able to give her all the resources she needed for her research. She’d been nervous at first - unsure about how his feelings towards her might change once he was back in the big city. But then he’d brushed his fingers along her waist and asked her if there was anyone she wanted to see before they left. She hadn’t made many friends, what with the way her entire reputation had been destroyed and her husband had kept her sequestered in the countryside. But her sister had moved to the UK last year for university …

Miguel grinned at the slight exasperation on her features, then leaned forward to place a hand on her thigh.

“No te preocupes, querida (Don't worry, darling),” he reassured her cheekily. “I’ll get you all the Burberry trench coats and Bvlgari necklaces your closet can fit once we get to New York.”

She pulled her gaze away from his, turning her head to the side and trying hard to not think about the way his large fingers wrapped around her thigh. Miguel felt his chest warm at the sight of the smile she was attempting to hide from him. But there was one other matter he still needed to settle. “Querida. We should probably settle your divorce before you leave.”

Oh right. That. X tapped her fingers on the countertop, trying to figure out where to start. “How … Do I need to go to court or …”

“I’ll get Matt to handle it,” Miguel interjected quickly, brushing her thigh with his thumb. “You just need to sign the papers once they’re done.” He leaned back in his seat, finally releasing his hold on her, and X felt some of the tension leave her body.

“Yup!” she chirped enthusiastically. “You got it!” Miguel smiled at her and she felt her stomach flip at the sight. She squashed the feeling down quickly and returned her attention to her laptop, still afraid to believe that her life could have changed for the better, for once.

Gwen glanced at her partner standing on the other side of the metal door. They’d followed the address of the man who’d rented the cars on Miguel’s behalf - he’d used a fake name, of course, but an address was much more difficult to fake. So that was how they’d ended up here: outside of a seemingly abandoned warehouse in a sketchy, isolated part of town they likely had no business being in. Miles nodded, one hand on his holster, then burst into the warehouse.

“Freeze! Police!” He held his gun out in front of him as he looked around, expecting some sort of drug packaging setup. But there was nothing. Well, nothing except for the single plastic chair in the middle of the cavernous hall. Miles twisted his head around to glance back at his partner in question. Gwen signalled for him to continue and Miles turned back to the chair to walk cautiously over to it.

She kept her eyes trained on their surroundings, guarding her partner’s back as he picked up whatever was on the chair. Her curiosity grew as he took a moment to study it. Then he swore and stomped his foot on the ground in frustration. “Shit!”

Gwen lowered her gun and went over to him, wanting to find out the reason behind Miles’s irritation. “What? What did you find?”

He sighed and turned around, holding out the objects he’d found: a gleaming golden ring and a lazily scrawled out note. Gwen raised an eyebrow as she took the piece of paper from him. ‘Tell Mr Lombardi his wife sends her regards.’

“Shit!” Gwen exclaimed, crumpling the note in her hand. “Argh! What are we gonna do now?!”

Miles rubbed his hand over his face, at a loss himself as to what their move should be. Then his phone rang with a call from Pav.

“Please tell me you have good news,” Miles begged him after picking up the call.

“I have good news!” Pav confirmed. “I’ve been going through the list of private airstrips around the area and I think I found his plane.”

Miles put the phone on speaker so Gwen could hear as well. “Great! Where is it?”

“Uh, on the way to London.”

“What?!” Miles exchanged a wide-eyed look with Gwen.

“Yes. Our guess is that they’re going to visit X’s sister,” Pav explained, the sound of his keyboard echoing over the phone. “We’ve booked you and Gwen a flight there and it leaves in … two hours. You need to get to X’s sister before they do.”

“Two hours?!” Gwen repeated incredulously.

“Yup. Better get going if you want to catch that plane,” Pav warned them. Then he hung up. Gwen looked up at Miles, horrified, then the two of them rushed back to their car to make their way over to the airport.

He threw the stack of papers down on Francesco’s desk before taking a seat across from him, his posture lazy and unbothered. “Your signature, if you will, Mr Lombardi.”

Francesco begrudgingly picked up the papers and flipped through them, seething at what he found inside. “What are these?”

“Divorce papers,” Miguel replied as if it should have been obvious. “From your wife.”

Francesco stood up, pushing his seat back in anger. “What have you done with her?! Where is she?! Bring her back!”

Miguel slung an arm over the back of his chair, unbothered by Francesco’s threatening tone. He’d already sent X off to London to meet with her sister before they left for America. Aside from throwing those pesky DEA agents off his tail, it also gave him some time to settle her divorce for her. But mierda, it felt strange, going back to his empty house after having come home to her everyday for the past two weeks.

“She’s safe,” Miguel assured Francesco, giving him an unimpressed scoff. “Safer with me than she ever was with you.”

Francesco leaned forward over the table, making sure to enunciate his words so the other man would understand him. “She is my wife! Bring her back to me!”

Ben stepped forward, ready to intervene as he sensed the rage threatening to overflow from Francesco. But Miguel raised a hand to stop him. He rested his elbows on the table instead, pressing his fingertips together as he considered Francesco. “You didn’t seem to care about that when you were getting your cock sucked by your assistant two nights ago.”

Francesco’s face turned red with anger at the declaration, but he controlled himself at the revelation that Miguel had him under surveillance.

He leaned back in his seat, his lips curling with the hint of a smirk at Francesco’s submission. Then he gestured to the papers on the desk, waiting.

“Listen here, you cocky bast*rd.” Francesco wagged a finger at him in warning. “I’m not the one who kidnapped her and then f*cking r*ped her in her own house! Who the f*ck are you to tell me to divorce my f*cking wife?!” Miguel felt his insides heat up at Francesco’s vile accusation and he found himself having to take a deep breath before he responded.

“‘R*pe’ is non-consensual, Mr Lombardi,” he explained, maintaining a cool tone. “And I don’t remember you wife having any objections when I was f*cking her on your kitchen island.” His lips twitched in anticipation of the outburst he knew was going to follow. He wasn’t disappointed.

“You motherf*cker!” Francesco screamed at him, searching for something he could throw at the larger man. “Son of a b*tch!” Miguel’s shoulders shook with an amused snicker.

“I don’t remember her having any children either,” Miguel joked. He tilted his head to the side then, as if he was thinking about it. “But … I could fix that. If that’s what she wants, of course.”

Francesco hurled a slew of curses and swears at Miguel, adding his fist onto the end of his words. But Miguel caught his hand before it could make contact. He twisted Francesco’s arm as he stood up, causing him to screech with pain. Then he let him go, allowing him to caress his wounded arm - he’d break it after he got him to sign the divorce papers.

“I’m not the one who told your wife to get a divorce, Mr Lombardi,” Miguel spat out through gritted teeth. “She decided that all on her own. Maybe if you took two f*cking seconds to talk to her, you’d realise how intelligent she is!”

Francesco ground his teeth together and lowered his gaze, humiliated. But not humiliated enough, apparently. “I’ll only sign them if you’ll let me see her - if you can prove to me that she’s safe.”

Miguel sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial her number.

“Querida,” he greeted her once her sweet little face popped up on his screen. Dios, he missed her. But he’d only known her for two weeks, how could he miss her when he’d only known her for two weeks? He swallowed down the pain that throbbed in his chest at the sight of her. “Your husband wants me to prove that you’re safe.”

He slid his gaze over to Francesco, his expression disgusted. Then he angled his phone towards him.

“Mia cara?” Francesco asked, his features softening as his gaze landed on her. “Where are you? What has he done with you?”

“I’m fine,” X replied, her voice flat. She sighed, suddenly exhausted as all the hurt and grief finally washed over her all at once. “What do you want, Francesco?”

“I want you, mia cara. Please. Come back to me?” He pursed his lips, his expression vulnerable as he pleaded with her. Miguel looked away so he wouldn’t scoff at the pitiful expression on his face.

She lowered her head, wanting to hide the tears starting to form on the edges of his eyes. It wasn’t that she missed him, definitely not. It was just that she’d suddenly been reminded of all the time she��d spent on him - all the months she’d given up to him - just for it to have meant absolutely nothing to either of them. “Just … leave me alone, Francesco. Just sign the damn papers and leave me alone.”

Miguel’s heart squeezed at the way her voice cracked. He’d break much more than just Francesco’s arm once he’d gotten what he came for. He turned the phone back to himself, wanting to shield his sweet arañita from the man who’d caused her so much pain. “You’ve seen her. Now sign them.”

The muscles in Francesco’s jaw feathered as he tried to figure a way out of his situation. But why was he so fussed about his wife wanting to divorce him? What did he care if she’d decided she wanted to leave him forever? He grabbed a pen from his stand, ready to sign the papers. But he hesitated when he saw the empty line on the page. He lifted his gaze to Miguel’s. “I want my papers back.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, amused: how the hell did this pathetic excuse of a man think he was in any position to negotiate? Lawyers. He held a hand out and Matt stepped forward to hand him the bank accounts Francesco was requesting for. The man practically leaped across his desk to grab them from Miguel, eagerly flipping through the stack to make sure everything was there. He picked up his pen again and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the divorce papers before pushing them back to Miguel. Miguel huffed at his desperation and stood up, giving Matt a nod before he walked out the door. Matt pulled out another stack of papers from his bag and set them on the desk in front of Francesco. “Here is our other set of copies. We’ll be seeing you around, Mr Lombardi.”

He flashed Francesco a knowing smile, then left him alone in his office, wife-less and credit-less.

Tags: @heubstr @zayai @amberbalcom14

44 notes · View notes

lixenn · 29 days

Text

Overview

Since I’ve come out of my introverted gremlin cave and started to actually work regularly on my writing as well as posting my stuff on here, I’ve decided to structure my blog a bit. Mostly to prevent people from getting absolutely lost in this chaotic mess.

I will try to keep this as updated as possible but there might be a bit of a delay between me posting new content and updating this, so please keep that in mind.

Ao3

Katekyo Hitman Reborn

The KHR discord server is now online! It's a general server for the fandom. If you want to join just drop me a DM and I'll send you the invite link.

The Housekeeping AU

This is me playing around in the Varia sandbox, come and join me in my weird delusions!

Witness how the Head of Varia Housekeeping (my OC) is slowly but surely driven insane by crazy Assassin bullshit, meddling assistants (aka Dave), mountains of paperwork and Mafia politics.

(Btw the concept of my Varia Housekeeping was inspired by Umei_no_Mai whose worldbuilding is absolutely Godtier. I kneel before their greatness.)

Character profiles (tumblr only for now, but might change in the future)

Chief aka Daniele

Dave under edit

Ottavio under edit

The Varia Housekeeping survival guide (WIP currently updating on Ao3)

When you are the overworked and underappreciated head of Varia Housekeeping who is sick and tired of cleaning up your employees’ corpses and decide to write up an instruction manual for dealing with Varia's insanity.

Unnamed Sequel (in planning stage)

Unlike the Varia survival guide, this work will hopefully have plot and a coherent story line. I’m still very much in the idea finding phase, so no clue when this is going to be published. However! I will keep you updated on this project via completely unhinged ramblings, so… look forward to that (and yes, that is a threat!)

Fanfic recs

I've decided to indulge myself and finally make a list some of my favourite KHR fanfics, feel free to check it out!

Fic recs

Naruto

How Uzushio was saved by drunken seal shenanigans (WIP kinda on hold)

The story of how Uzumaki Ren – explosion specialist, seal master and everyone’s favourite mad scientist – saves his village from destruction, revolutionizes the medical field, adopts a puppy, and gives his Kage an aneurism. Not necessarily in that order.

Note: I’ve updated this recently and I still have stuff for it prewritten (but nothing post-worthy just yet), but since KHR has overtaken all my brain space, I’ll probably won’t work on this for a while. I’m still super attached to my mad scientist baby Ren, so there will be more content! … Just in the very far future 😅

---

If you have questions about any of my projects or just want to randomly scream at me about fandom, my inbox is open. Bother me anytime!

#my writing #fanfiction #blog overview

2 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 3 years

Photo

The Neanderthal Man

Since I'm taking a break from fishmen, I might as well let Bigfoot catch up a bit. The Neanderthal Man isn't exactly a Bigfoot movie, but it’s along the same lines and its entire starring cast has MST3K pedigrees. Robert Shayne was in Indestructible Man and Teenage Caveman. Richard Crane was Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! Beverly Garland was in Swamp Diamonds and Gunslinger. Even the composer, Albert Glasser, wrote music for Invasion USA, Last of the Wild Horses, and almost all of MST3K’s Bert I. Gordon movies.

Some little mountain town in the middle of the Sierras (which the Portentous 50's Narrator takes some trouble to tell us is a primeval place where 'the defacing hand of civilization has fallen but lightly') is having a rash of saber-toothed tiger sightings! At first these are laughed off, but when the game warden himself sees one cross the road in the middle of the night, it's time to do something about it. The warden shows a cast pawprint to Dr. Ross Harkness in Los Angeles, who is interested enough to come up and see for himself. Local Mad Scientist Dr. Groves pooh-poohs the whole thing, which is enough to tell me that we're not dealing with a local cryptid here. Somebody is making prehistoric monsters.

So... I may not have actually run out of movies, but I seem to be running out of plots, because this is a remarkably similar movie to Monster on the Campus. The major difference between the two films is that Dr. Blake turned himself into a caveman by accident, while Dr. Groves here is doing it on purpose.

Another difference is that Monster on the Campus' story, while silly, was linear – events escalated in a way that felt logical, and there were reasons why things happened when and where they did. By contrast, The Neanderthal Man feels like a first draft. At the beginning of the film, we're dealing with the saber-toothed tigers that Groves has been creating by injecting cats with his de-evolution serum. We hear about these slaughtering game and livestock, and it seems like only a matter of time before they move on to human beings. The beginning of the film is quite upfront about the fact that Groves is responsible, too, as it is only mildly mysterious in its depiction of one of the creatures escaping his lab.

Sometimes the saber-tooths are represented by an actual tiger, usually filmed from behind or at a great distance so nobody has to put the prosthetic teeth on it. They do have prosthetic teeth, but they're only visible in a couple of shots. Imagine being at a bar and some guy tells you his job is sticking fake fangs on real tigers for a caveman movie! For close-ups, there's a hilarious puppet head that looks like the sort of thing you'd see mounted on a frat house wall as a joke. The director had the sense not to linger on this in motion shots, but later we see still photographs Groves has supposedly taken of his experimental subjects and they're even stupider-looking than we imagined.

Anyway, this goes on for a while with rising action, as the game warden goes to get Harkness and they manage to shoot one of the animals, only to have it vanish from the kill site when they try to show it to Groves (the movie never bothers to explain how that happened, incidentally. The ending suggests that the creatures change back when they die, but there's definitely no dead kitty cat at the scene, either). The whole movie could easily have just had the cats and their creator as the antagonists, perhaps even ending the same way as Dr. Groves proves his work to the other characters by injecting himself. That's not what happens, though. Instead, the story mostly forgets about the cats one we find out Groves has also been carrying on human experiments.

(Before himself, Groves' first experimental subject was his disabled Latina housekeeper. Another series of photos show her half-transformed into a cavewoman who for some reason is wearing drag queen false eyelashes. And as long as I'm talking about the movie being gross and bigoted, there's a bit where a woman is violently raped. This happens off camera, but the audience is not allowed to entertain any illusions about it.)

The problem is that before we see him give himself an injection in the arm, we have had absolutely no indication that Groves has been giving his serum to anything besides the cats! Cats are stealthy, cryptic creatures and if one of those has been seen wandering around killing things, then surely a full-on caveman beating people to death would not be able to stay out of sight! If what we were seeing were the first time Groves had tried the formula on himself then that would be an explanation, but his notes reveal that he's been doing it for so long that he's on the verge of losing control of the transformation and permanently reverting to a pre-human status, as indeed he does for the climax. Much like the stupid dinosaur in The Beast of Hollow Mountain, the movie's main monster is given no build-up whatsoever!

There's worse yet, though. The main characters, Dr. Harkness and Groves' daughter Jan, are barely involved in the 'caveman' part of the plot. They get phone calls about the various murders that Groves is committing in caveman form, and they snoop around the lab to figure out things the audience already knows. The same story could have been told without them, perhaps with the game warden and the hunter as protagonists, and it would probably have been more interesting. The script also repeatedly has Dr. Groves wander in and bluster about how the tiger sightings are hallucinations and tall tales, which seems a little unnecessary when we already know he's responsible. The film-makers can't seem to decide whether they want us to know that or not.

Dr. Groves wears glasses. Maybe the reason his primitive alter-ego is angry and breaking shit (although it does politely open and close the window it climbs out of, which made me laugh) is because it can't see. This is also my theory about why the Hulk smashes, and what do you know? In Avengers Endgame he's got Hulk-sized spectacles and only smashes when he's told!

The direction of The Neanderthal Man can probably best be described as 'serviceable'. It shows us what's going on, but doesn't particularly add anything to the proceedings. The 'Neanderthal' mask is immobile and uninteresting, not much better than somebody's Party City Sasquatch costume. Even the eyes are just painted on, meaning the poor guy in the costume can’t do much because he can’t see where he’s going.

The dialogue is often very strange, with characters talking like they're in a Jules Verne novel. If only one person did this, it might seem like a character quirk – it works for Dr. Groves, for example – but it's everybody. Seeing the cat carcass is gone, Harkness declares, “I refuse to believe in the supernatural! There must be some logical cause and effect to this unholy adventure!” Groves' fiancee Ruth berates him for ignoring her, saying, “I want you, the man I once knew! The good companion, the cheerful friend. I want the happiness we once found in each other.” It's bizarre to listen to, and often audibly awkward for the actors.

Monster on the Campus was kind of trying to be about how humanity must choose to evolve away from our inner savage, although the finale didn't bear that out. There's a scene in The Neanderthal Man in which this movie seems to be trying to go in the opposite direction, saying that we were never savage to begin with. Dr. Groves is speaking to a panel of scientists about the size of the brain in various 'primitive' species of human. He points out that by the time we reached Homo erectus we were already working with four times the cerebral jelly of a chimpanzee, and argues that our ancestors would have been recognizably human in their behaviour and problem-solving capacity.

(Amusingly, his chart of human evolution includes Piltdown Man, which was proven to be a hoax literally a few months after this movie's release. What makes this even more tragic for the writers is that their list of primitive humans seems to be the only place where they actually did any research.)

The problem with Dr. Groves' theory is that he already knows it's wrong. We soon learn that he's been experimenting on himself with his serum for a while already, and his notes show that he knows very well he regresses into a near-mindless animal. The movie does not even try to reconcile these ideas. If Groves were continuing his experiments in the hope that perfecting his serum would give him a more accurate reconstruction of ancient man, that would be one thing, but the script never goes there.

So now that we've had two 'man turns into caveman by injecting science juice' movies, of course I have to ask which one is better. Monster on the Campus wasn't a good movie but it was definitely an improvement on The Neanderthal Man in several respects, and although I don't have any way to find out for certain, I suspect it was an intentional remake. It's definitely more entertaining and gets bonus points for including the Meganeura dragonfly, but nothing in it is nearly as funny as The Neanderthal Man's fake tiger head. I guess if you're gonna watch one or the other, stick to Monster on the Campus, but if you're gonna watch both, start with The Neanderthal Man and do them in chronological order, the better to spot the inspirations and references.

Before I go, a fun paleontology fact: current thinking is that the saber-toothed cat's eponymous fangs actually didn't show when it had its mouth closed! There are zero cave paintings or ancient sculptures of a saber-tooth cat with teeth visible, and when scientists looked at the structure of the enamel in the canines, it suggested that in life the teeth were hidden by big, fleshy, St Bernard jowls. Google 'smilodon lips' and behold how this looks fully three hundred percent more ridiculous than you're imagining. I love nature.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the neanderthal man #tw: rape #50s #curiously caucasian cavepeople

21 notes · View notes

glasseswearingrabbitdetective · 2 years

Text

Niigo Detective?(spy? Police?) Au idea;

Everything’s same cept they solve crimes…!

Mafuyu was wandering around an aquarium, mildly disappointed by all the fish and lack of empty tanks(😂) when the announcement that she was a criminal(thief iirc) broke out- except of course she wasn’t, she’d simply been framed.

Ena questioned this, how could they know for sure that Mafuyu hadn’t done it. She didn’t trust her very much. She barely knew a thing about her, about any of them!

Kanade stood up for her though, simply saying she does trust Mafuyu and asks why Mafuyu would do such a thing in the first place- lack of motive! Let alone solid evidence!

Mizuki agrees, albeit without much actual emotional-attachment. Possibly just to annoy Ena- or at least that was her theory, it makes more sense to her than Mizuki’s “we’re a team~ Gotta at least try believe in each other’s innocence, don’t we?~☆Until proven guilty.” ( ◠‿◠ )

So they set out to do just that.

….

I didn’t get to see much else, alarm went off and dream ended orz don’t except great words from someone who just woke up…

I recon the other ppl from prsk, ones connected to niigo at least, were in this too- (mad??????? Not rlyyy) scientist Rui is still Mizuki’s old friend and gave them all fancy gadgets 😂 Airi the Idol is still close with Ena, helped gather gossip(intel) and gives them invites to a fancy party or smt. Honami is Kanade’s housekeeper(?) who knows more than she ever lets on… ect :>

On their outfits; It’s a black tie-suit. Although only Mafuyu would wear her uniform properly, the others all customise it- Kanade wears an oversized jacket which falls off most of her shoulders and over her hands. She ties her hair into a very long ponytail on a rare occasion (when she gets rly serious maybe?), Mizuki wears little shorts and long black socks- they get excited about getting to wear lots of different outfits as they find the work one boring. Ena agrees on this but doesn’t change her uniform that much, simply refuses to wear the tie- thinks it’s ugly. She wears a more casual version of the uniform(with not buttoned-at-the-collar shirt) if she has to. She envies Airi’s cute, fashionable job-outfit a little too much 😂

Mizuki likes bringing things, like flowers, into the (dull, often noodle-smelling) office to try to brighten it up. Ena does the same and complains that the others spend way too much time here, unlike her who “has a life outside of work-!” - btw, Ena’s dad is in the same job, that’s why she has to… (the rest is like canon)

Workaholic Kanade’s reason for becoming a detective(?) is so that she can investigate who committed the crime that killed her mother and that her father got the blame for. She sees alikeness in what happened to Mafuyu- her investigation on her father’s case is ongoing but with no new leads so she sets aside her cup of Instant-noodles for the day and focuses on helping Mafuyu.

Mafuyu is a real mystery … to everyone including herself! She has amnesia..?? No, it’s not that she can’t remember, it’s that she doesn’t. (See canon)�� she’s been thru it, as has the others to varying degrees.

MizuMafu’s reasons for being detectives are unclear… Mizuki just kinda turned up one day, Ena comments that maybe they aren’t that suited to it bc they don’t take their work very seriously- Mizuki retorts that’s exactly what Ena does! Reminding EnaKana that work can be a fun place too. Meanwhile, the “super-stoic” Mafuyu was highly recommended by her parents who are friends(?) with the boss. She was placed in the special unit with Niigo by happy chance though- they’re kind to her.

Are the Vocaloids here?? Probably not ..???🤔Maybe Niigo Miku is in their computer system tho- Kanade is good with tech, she(or Rui) installed AI -> Miku-chan.

#project sekai #25 ji night code de #niigo #I like this series too much … this is Kanna writing fanfic 2.0? this isn’t first time I dreamt of niigo #it’s the second :) last time was more canon-y .. this ones straight up an au gkskvka #25ji my beloved <3 #I love this unit sm help

6 notes · View notes

daretosnoop · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: Dr. Buford

Chapter 6:

Coming out after a hot bath, Bess meandered around the hotel room and watched the rain drizzle down. The reporter mentioned it would rain every day for the rest of the week. Bummer, how are we going to enjoy New Orleans now? Deep down Bess new that the idea of vacationing was gone now that Nancy found herself a mystery. Joining in on Nancy’s mysteries were fun, and nothing brought a gleam in Nancy’s eyes like a mystery. She’d been like that since they were kids, so really, if it bothered Bess, she would have long stopped being Nancy’s friend. But, she couldn’t deny that it hurt to be tossed aside so easily. The only consolation was the rain, at least Nancy had an excuse to hang out elsewhere.

Through the rain Bess saw the yellow-green hue emanating from the sign of Zeke’s curio shop. It really was a doozy of a place, though Bess felt bad that she dumped a bottle of sneezing powder onto Lamont. The poor guy didn’t even suspect her and blamed customers moving things around. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the food truck and an old man who sat at a patio table reading a newspaper. Bess’s stomach rumbled. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to eat a bit while finding out about the old man.

Bess hurried over to the food truck and placed an order for crawfish. She then moved towards the old man and asked if she could sit by his side while she ate.

“Now why would I object to having such lovely company in this lovely rain we seem to be having?”

Bess smiled and pulled out a chair. Southern hospitality was about to meet Midwestern friendliness.

“Are you, by chance, Dr. Gilbert Buford?”

“That I am miss--?”

“Marvin. Do you know a Dr. Bruno Bolet? He passed away recently”.

“Of course I know him. He was my friend, not to mention my patient. Whole of New Orleans knows about the Bolets”.

“Right,” Bess started on her food. “I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about him?”

“Now why would you want to know about Dr. Bolet? You look to young to be spending time with an old coot like him”. Gilbert lowered his newspaper and looked thoroughly at Bess. He’d never see her around Bruno. The only young person Bruno kept around him was that curio shop owner Lamont.

“Dr. Bolet was you friend right? I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about him. What was he like? How did he die?”

“I would prefer a topic of a happier nature, but I do not want to be inhospitable,” Dr. Buford hesitated.

Score one for hospitality!

“I was Bruno’s friend, however, I cannot say he was mine”.

“Oh? Why so?”

“Fact is, while socializing with my fellow people, such as you, give me happiness, it did the opposite for Bruno. He was an eccentric man, an acquired taste. And the older he got, the less he seemed to care about how his idiosyncrasies negatively affected others”.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, take his nephew for one thing. Never talked to him. Never even talked to me about him. Never talked about his family. He wasn’t an egoist, but some might take it that way.”

“Did his idiosyncrasies ever bother you?”

Dr. Buford hesitated before responding. “There were times when Bruno was plain ridiculous. But, how should I put this?” Dr. Buford rubbed his hand on his chin in thought, “A mad scientist has sound reasoning and end result, even if it’s strange and abnormal to the rest of us”.

So it’s a matter of perspective? After his statement, Gilbert looked out into the rain for a while and Bess had to wonder how personal his last statement was. If Dr. Bolet wasn’t Dr. Buford’s friend, why did he react like so?

“For such an eccentric man, surely only an eccentric death suffices?” Bess quipped, hoping it would draw Dr. Buford back into the conversation. The old man turned and smiled, the orange light warmed his dark skin. He looked haggard and it struck Bess that Dr. Bolet died not too long ago. Grief acted in mysterious ways.

In an old professional voice, Dr. Buford answered, “He died of myocardial infraction likely caused by age-old atherosclerosis”. He then laughed at Bess’s confused expression. In all his years of study, he never understood why doctors gave such long complicated names to diseases when simple names existed. He once asked Bruno this as a jest, but the dentist spurred up with such vigor, declaring the whole medical industry as a farce. Everybody stared at them with the outburst and Gilbert asked himself again why he hung out with Bruno when the man did nothing but embarrass him.

“He died of a heart attack,” Gilbert clarified. “All too common with old age and with people who are socially isolated. “Apparently, the Bolet family has a history of heart attacks in old age, though none of them were health related”.

“So they were all fit as a fiddle, then one day, boom?” Bess asked.

Dr. Buford nodded. “Odd one, that family. But then again, this is New Orleans. Here the abnormal is normal, for those of us who are really in it, that is”.

Bess waited for the man to explain what he meant, but Dr. Buford did not elaborate.

“Funny thing was,” he said, “Bruno wasn’t always so recluse. Sure he was more reserved than others. The whole Bolet family was, but Bruno—well, after his brother’s death, something in him just broke, I guess”.

“How do they know it was a heart attack? Did they do an autopsy?”

Dr. Buford shook his head. “No. Given Bruno’s age, his family history, and the absence of foul play, an autopsy was declared unnecessary. His body was cremated as per his wishes. Funny thing is, he was the only member of his family to want a cremation”.

“Who decided to not do the autopsy?”

“Why, me. I was there when Bruno died. Saw it happen”.

“What happened?” Bess urged forgetting about her food.

“Well, I hadn’t seen him for a while so I went to visit him. When I arrived, the door was unlocked, as usual. I opened it and saw Bruno lying on the floor in obvious distress. Next thing I know, his housekeeper comes running up and just stared in shock. I sent her to call the ambulance. Then I—“.

Gilbert paused and thought over what he was going to say next.

“Well, I bent down and saw he wasn’t breathing. I pulled him away from the door and began to do chest compressions. I kept doing it till the medics arrived but nothing they did made a difference”.

“And Dr. Bolet was unconscious the whole time?”

“Yes,” Gilbert sighed. “Yes he was. One mercy I suppose”.

“You said you came to meet him, why then was he at the front door?”

Dr. Buford stared oddly at Bess. “You ask a lot of questions. You a reporter or something?”

“You guessed it sir. I am a reporter. Given that this is the Bolet family, it’s only natural everyone wants to know what happened in all the details”.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s any of the public’s business, but I suppose I could tell you. You’ve been nicer than the other reporters”.

Score one for friendliness!

Dr. Buford looked up and thought over Bess’s question. “Wait a minute. Why, yes—he was holding something. A piece of paper. And on the floor was an envelope”. Dr. Buford turned sharply at Bess, eyes widening in realization. “He must’ve collapsed after reading that letter!”

“Do you remember anything else?” Bess asked, leaning towards Dr. Buford. The story was finally getting good.

Dr. Buford chuckled. “Miss reporter, it’s quite a miracle I’ve remembered this much”. But the man still thought hard. “The odd thing is the letter. It was no longer in Bruno’s hand when the paramedics arrived. He might have let go when I moved him, but then it would have been lying around nearby and I did not see any paper around the area”.

Dr. Buford pressed his fingertips together as he went through his memories. Then, it dawned on him and he let out a grin.

“Iggy”.

“Iggy?”

“Bruno’s pet iguana. Bruno let all pets roam around the house freely. Iggy soon developed an irritating habit of stealing paper and stockpiling it in the vent system. I can’t recall how many times his housekeeper would call, asking for another copy of the medication because Bruno brought it home and left it on the table for Iggy to snatch up. Iggy must have taken the paper that day”.

“Did you see Iggy that day?”

“No,” Gilbert confessed. “But Bruno told me he was training Iggy to retrieve the things he’d stolen”.

“Dr. Buford,” Bess waited a moment before going forth with her question. “Do you think it’s possible that the housekeeper caused Dr. Bolet’s death? Maybe anger or vengeance or greed? Maybe she horded his pills and gave it all at once or something?”

“Young lady,” Gilbert exclaimed. “Are you insinuating that Bruno was murdered? I know you reporters need a good catch scoop, but possible murder is pushing the limits! And besides, if Bruno’d died from an overdose, he would have looked and reacted differently. No,” Dr. Buford hit the table with his hand. “I am certain it was a heart attack”.

Why is he so adamant?

“However,” Dr. Buford added as an afterthought. “I know Renee is deeply involved with the practice of hoodoo. As Bruno’s housekeeper, she had perfect opportunity to use it against my poor old friend”.

“Surely you jest! Hoodoo works?” Bess laughed.

“Miss reporter, one thing you should take to heart in your career is to never ever underestimate the power of suggestion. If a person believes something, even on a subconscious level, fantasy can easily become fact. Who knows what rubbish Renee filled Bruno’s head with. Drink this, don’t eat that, this brings good luck, that brings bad luck. Day in, day out—even if he didn’t believe in the stuff, who knows how much his subconscious was absorbing. Remember he was very old, very isolated, very lonely. He was a vulnerable man”.

“So it is possible that Renee could have caused Dr. Bolet’s heart attack?”

“Now don’t quote me on this because I still say it was not murder, but yes, she very well could have”.

So he doesn’t have a good opinion of Renee. I wonder why? Bess thanked Dr. Buford and hurried back to her hotel. Once inside, she called Nancy and conveyed what she had learned.

Nancy woke up to crows cawing at each other. For a sweet moment she relished going back to sleep. The bed and pillows were very soft and Nancy was not ready to take on the day yet. Then her body woke her up to her position. One leg was half off the bed, numb. One hand was holding onto her phone. Her notebook was lying open and her pen left an ink stain on the paper. Her arms were splayed out and her back was aching. Slowly she lifted herself up and her bed head came tumbling forward. Her eyes slowly closed but the caws opened them back up. Nature was in no mood to let her sleep.

Nancy recalled her conversation last night. Bess was right in her assumption that Dr. Buford seemed way too quick to make a diagnosis. Then again, he was a doctor. But he provided Nancy with a better understanding of that envelope. Now she was sure that Dr. Bolet was reading a letter from Milo Research and Technology, and Nancy had a hunch it was to do with the whisperer skull. She told Bess about Henry and his illegal sale, and what she learned about the crystal skulls and Bruno Bolet. Bess was silent for a moment, then in a worried voice, asked Nancy if she knew what she was getting herself into.

“Nance, this really sounds like a cult,” Bess remarked, and Nancy had to agree. There was too much hush-hush and a desire to put the past behind. Given how much everyone gained from Dr. Bolet’s death, it seemed like everyone would have a financial motive. Nancy even wondered if Dr. Buford and Renee were working together, but that seemed too cheesy. Not to mention, Bess said that Dr. Bolet did not seem to like Renee. I wonder if she feels the same?

But for now, Nancy had more pressing concerns. Iggy. She had to get Iggy to give that paper. Correction, I have to get Henry to get Iggy to give that paper. He seemed distressed when she bumped into him last night, but said nothing. Wonder if those ghosts came after all. She still could not believe that the supernatural existed. It seemed too ridiculous, but then the mystery was still young, and Henry said he felt nothing, so maybe the ghost thing was just a hoax. Nancy glanced at her phone and her eyes widened. It was nearing noon. She had slept late, but she was usually always an early riser. She quickly got out of bed and hurried to get ready.

When Nancy came into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Henry sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup to his head. He glanced up when she arrived, nodded at her, and went back to nursing his head. If Nancy didn’t know better, she would have assumed Henry had a hangover, but it seemed that both of them were beginning their day late.

“Did you eat yet?” Nancy asked. Henry shook his head. Guessing it must be too early for a meal, Nancy opted for toast and butter. She popped the toast into the toaster, and then buttered them heavily. She then poured herself a cup of tea and joined Henry at the table, giving him his plate. Henry seemed surprised at the gesture and mumbled a thanks. They ate in silence. Once the first toast and half the tea went down, Nancy felt invigorated to start her day. She turned towards Henry and started to talk.

“Got a task for you today”.

“Oh? The great detective need my help?”

“Yes, you should be so honored. I’m usually figuring things out myself”.

Henry laughed softly then asked what she needed.

“I need you to find Iggy and see if you can find where he stores the paper he steals”. Nancy pulled out the envelope. “We need to know what letter this envelope carried because your uncle was reading it on the night he died”.

“How do you know that?”

“Bess talked to Dr. Buford. Here,” Nancy showed Henry Bess’s number. She also gave him her number. You can call her if you want to know more about their conversation. Also, if you have any questions for Dr. Buford yourself. Henry took out his phone. He noticed there were two unread messages but ignored them for now. Instead, he quickly added Bess’s name to his contacts.

“Thanks. What else did she say?” he asked.

“Well Bess and I both think that Dr. Buford is trying to hide something. Bess also mentioned that Dr. Buford does not like Renee”.

“And how does Renee feel about Dr. Buford?”

“That’s what I’m going to figure out today”.

They finished their food and Henry took the plates and washed them. This time, Nancy helped to dry them and place them away. Henry then went to Bruno’s study while Nancy slipped out to the garden. Renee was in her usual spot, tending to her plants.

“Hello,” Nancy called out.

Slowly, Renee put down her garden tool and turned to face Nancy. She gave a nod but did not smile.

“Hello dear. Did you eat the rice and beans I left out for you?”

“Oh,” Nancy faltered. “No, I didn’t”.

“Oh”. Renee turned down towards her plants.

“I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”

“Some more questions?”

“Yes”.

Renee sighed and nodded.

“What’s your opinion of Dr. Buford?”

Renee seemed surprised by Nancy’s question but did not hesitate to answer.

“Dr. Buford is a fine doctor. Treated Dr. Bolet well”.

“So you have no suspicions of his practice?”

“Dear girl,” Renee exclaimed with a laugh. “Why would I have any suspicions of Dr. Buford?”

Nancy took a shot. “Do you think he might be the skeleton man?”

Renee sputtered and Nancy continued.

“You mentioned that you saw the skeleton man too, right? Well from what I’ve learned, it seems that Dr. Buford was the only person who regularly meet with Dr. Bolet. So, it’s likely the skeleton man was him”.

Renee was quiet for a moment, then she said in a low voice, “I don’t know”.

Nancy tried another question.

“Your room, it’s, it’s got markings on the wall. What are they?”

“They are what keeps that dark being away from my room”.

“Dark being?”

“Those voices, they call to me at night. Can’t stand it. So I put those signs on the wall to send those spirits away”.

“Did it work?”

“Oh yes,” Renee gave a pleased smile. “They vanished the day I put them up”.

Nancy hesitated with her next question. “Dr. Buford doesn’t seem to like your practice in hoodoo. Has he ever told you that?”.

“Oh my dear,” Renee sighed. “The world is too complex for this question to have a direct answer. If I said I didn’t believe, then why do I participate in hoodoo? If I do, then everyone is ready to prove me wrong. But, my experiences are mine. I know there is something unnatural about our world. It doesn’t need a name, but if you want to give it a name, give it”.

Nancy groaned internally. In all of her mysteries so far, there was always some logical reason, something that would give way to some sort of explanation of unnatural causes. And yet, she knew that Renee was right. The atmosphere in the San Francisco house, the Mayan museum, Malone’s speakeasy, Camille’s sparks, they all exuded a presence of something beyond the fabricated ghosts, but she never bothered to investigate beyond the mystery. Now it was coming back to bite her. Then, Nancy realized a crucial question.

“Renee, where did you get that doll from? The one on your chair? I’ve seen it before, but only in a remastered train meant to look like something from the eighteen-hundreds”.

“Oh, that old thing? I just found it in a curio shop?”

“Which one?”

“The one where that young man who came over to visit Dr. Bolet works. What was it now?”

“Zeke’s?” Nancy asked.

“Yes! That one. He sells all sorts of antiques. Many of which decorate the manor”.

Nancy thanked Renee then went to find Henry. He wasn’t in the study, so Nancy went up to the secret room and saw Henry standing in front of the open vent, arms crossed. He turned, and when he saw Nancy, he beckoned her towards him.

“Iggy likes to hang out in Bruno’s study. Lots of paper to steal. So I watched him to see where he went. He went into the duct and I remembered this one was open, so I headed up here but he hasn’t come yet”.

Henry turned towards Nancy. “What did you find out?”

“Well, Renee has a good opinion of Dr. Buford. She doesn’t know he is the skeleton man”.

Henry sighed. “So we know nothing new”. He looked towards the vent. “I can’t believe we’re depending on a lizard”.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve relied on lizards,” Nancy said as she snickered. She moved towards the pirate marionette doll. It reminded her so much of the doll in Renee’s room, but the pirate theme screamed Bruno’s jolly roger club. It even had an eyepatch over the left eye.

“Hey, Henry, what eye was the glass eye?”

“Left eye”.

Nancy then noticed that the doll was holding some box with buttons, and each button had a word under it. Bah? Moo? Boo? They were the same words in the hoodoo book Renee had! Quickly she brought out her notebook and pressed the buttons in the order she wrote down. There was another button labelled ‘talk’ which Nancy pressed. Suddenly the doll whirred to life, blinked it blue eye and repeated the words in a low robotic voice. The voice attracted Henry’s attention who snapped his head towards the sound. When the doll finished, it’s eyeball fell out. Nancy caught it quickly and noticed a piece of paper inside the eye. Carefully she pulled it out and opened it.

It’s time to learn about the Bolet family Henry.

Follow the clues to learn about each member.

Learn their roles and duties.

Recognize your own.

Recognizing the scrawl as Bruno’s hand, Nancy continued to read and found that Bruno had created another scavenger hunt for Henry. The first clue was to go to the last denizen buried on Bruno’s guard. There were subsequent clues, but they did not make any sense and Nancy guessed that whatever they would find would make the next clue make sense.

She went over to Henry and silently handed him the letter and the eye. Henry read it quickly and shook his head.

“There’s eccentric, and then there’s uncle Bruno. Come on, Iggy’s not coming. Might as well do something else”.

“Maybe we should give him food? The smell might attract him”.

Henry agreed, then added, “But it can’t be anything that will rot easily. I don’t want ants”.

Nancy rolled her eyes and jabbed her elbow into Henry. “Such a clean freak”.

After a moment, Henry jabbed her back, hesitated, then said, “What can I say, I’m an accountant. I like everything to be organized neatly”.

They came out through Henry’s room and collided into Renee. She looked at them and her eyebrows raised a bit as if she were amused. There was an awkward silence and Nancy, hurried to fill it in.

“Uh, Renee. Can I ask you something?”

“Again?” Renee quirked.

“Um, yes. That box in your room. The one with blue circles on it. Is it yours?”

“No. Dr. Bolet gave it to me”.

Nancy nodded then hurried after Henry down the stairs. As they descended, Renee called out to them.

“It’s raining again. Would you like the beans and rice for dinner? It’s good on a rainy day”.

“Anything’s fine Renee,” Henry said.

“Very well”.

Renee went into her room and shut the door. Nancy and Henry looked at one another and Henry just shrugged and went towards the living room.

“Should we give Iggy the rice and beans?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t need a gassy iguana”.

#nancy drew #nancy x henry #henry bolet #CRY #legend of the crystal skull

4 notes · View notes

firelinphd · 4 years

Text

Victor with a S/O impressed by his skills | Headcanons

gender neutral

shoutout to @irohase & @miikachi who always like my stuff ❤️❤️

reminder that I changed the request a bit and the reader isn’t a housekeeper but is a member of the 8th Company!!

He actually appreciated you, because you weren’t mad or suspicious when he joined the 8th Company.

It was mostly because you were attracted to intelligent people. Of course, it wasn’t a snobbish thing, you were just admiring those who could do difficult things easily.

Victor was often catching you watching him, whenever he was working on something. He was simply smiling at you, and you were running away, embarrassed that you got caught.

However, once, he actually called you. ‘’Don’t hide, (Y/N). You can sit and watch closer, you know. It won’t bother me.’’ You were embarrassed enough that he knew you were watching him again, but your curiosity got the best of you, since you actually sat next to him.

He actually started to explain to you what he was doing. ‘’Do you wanna try ?’’ You bit your lip. ‘’No, I’m scared I’ll fail and you’ll have to do it all over again.’’ He chuckled and that was when you realized ; you had a crush on him. Oh oh.

Throughout time, it became a bit of an habit for you to visit him in his workshop whenever you weren’t busy. He would always greet you happily, showing you everything and explaining all of his experiments.

That’s why you often found yourself cleaning behind him, so his workplace would remain clean enough -he was always making a mess of that room and you wondered how he could work in peace with those conditions.

‘’(Y/N) ! You cleaned everything ? Thank you, you didn’t have to !’’ He would say everytime. You would simply nod, blushing. And you were sure he was noticing your red cheeks everytime, since he was always grinning back at you.

Even on missions, whenever Victor seemed lost in his thoughts or was muttering something, you were focused on him and someone had to call you out to focus back on the mission -that actually was making the scientist laugh everytime.

However, you two got even closer when Victor started to do some researches on you. Indeed, you could generate fire from your fingers, creating some fire strings. And he really wanted to know how that worked.

One day, as we was inspecting your fire, he suddenly asked, out of the blue : ‘’(Y/N), do you like me ? You’re always staring at me and you’re interesting in all my experiments.’’ He said, his usual smile on his face.

You couldn’t reply anything, you only turned red -you could feel your cheeks burning. Still, you managed to quietly nod, your eyes widened. Victor chuckled. ‘’It’s okay. We could hang out sometimes. And you deserve it, after cleaning my workshop all the time !’’

You really couldn’t believe what he had just said. However, he giggled when he noticed something in your features ; you were now smiling, even though you were still red as hell.

#enen no shouboutai #fire force #enen no shouboutai x reader #fire force x reader #victor licht #licht victor #viktor licht #licht viktor #victor x reader #viktor x reader #victor licht x reader #viktor licht x reader #headcanons

163 notes · View notes

alias-b · 4 years

Photo

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 4: Heart Of Glass

A/N: Secrets out this chapter. Be warned this chapter deals with an attempted s*icide at the end. It’s not graphic or gory, but trigger warning. Cross posted to my ao3

“Feeling any better?” Rosemary hurried over when Camille came into the kitchen in her pajamas. She, Edna, and Noah all stopped talking the second she appeared in the doorway. Not unsettling at all.

“Yes.” Camille held herself when her mother kissed her head.

“I’ll speak to a doctor and they’ll fix your dose. Do not worry about it, honey.” Noah came to his feet. “You should rest.”

“I’m fine now.”

“We need you healthy.” He was more matter-a-fact than a comfort. There was a knock and Edna moved out to see to the door. Camille held at least a hundred questions back before the housekeeper returned.

“For you, Milly.”

“Oh?” Camille saw Nancy there with Jonathan Byers behind her. A dozen more questions came up.

“Can we talk?” Nancy uttered, obviously bothered. Jonathan shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Yes...” Camille pulled a hoodie over her nightclothes when the cold chilled her flesh and slipped on shoes to go out without telling her parents. “What is going on?”

“Can I trust you?”

“Nancy, you’re freaking me out.” She hesitated but got into the back seat while Jonathan took the wheel and her friend huffed, buckling up. “We lied to you.”

“Shocker! Who could have predicted this?” Camille was hard as Jonathan drove them off.

“I know, I know. But, I'm serious. Something happened last year. Something huge.” Nancy turned to see her friend. “You’re kind of apart of it. You deserve to know. But, I need your help, Camille. I need you. We’ll tell you everything.”

“What do you need from me?”

“We need you to spy on your dad.” Nancy pressed then and Camille laughed out loud at her.

“Okay, fun's gone! Jonathan, pull over. I’m done.”

“We can’t until you know everything.” Jonathan turned down a forest path and went up the hill. They got to a view that overlooked Hawkins. Small lights dotted the little town. He parked and they both turned.

“Nancy.”

“Barb is dead.” Nancy teared up, arms crossing over the seat. Jonathan produced a photo, ripped apart and taped back together. Camille was shaking but she took it. Barb sat on a diving board. Alone. Behind her was a twisted sort of man. A creature with no face. “That was taken the night she disappeared. Steve’s party.”

“I didn’t go.” Camille traced the outline of her lost friend. She didn't go because they were there.

“That thing took her. It took my brother too.” Jonathan offered, frowning. “It tried to kill us. It’s...not from here. We can tell you everything but, please...keep an open mind.” Camille was slowly going mad, eyes lifted.

“I’m listening.”

** ** **

“I’m not hungry!” Billy called when there was a knock so he cranked up his music. Max cracked his door open. “Go away, shitbird.”

“What happened at the high school today?”

“Fuck if I know, leave me alone,” he kicked his backpack aside.

“Why are you such an asshole?” She blurted, touching her lips as if to stop it when he grew livid.

“Why did your fucking mother have to toss herself on my dad, huh?! Answer that, Max!” Billy growled. “Leave me alone.” She glared and shut the door. It was an hour before his father’s angry steps vibrated the floors. Billy wanted to hide. His door bashed open and Neil stalked in.

“What?” Billy stood up, fists tight as if to brace himself.

“Was that girl with you again?”

"Which one? I see lots of girls." Billy played dumb and shrunk when Neil advanced. "She's nothing to me, dad. Went home sick today before they canceled classes. Power blew. We’re classmates, I have to see her. She tutors and shit.”

“I don’t want my pussy of a son associating with little whores like her, you embarrass me enough. You know the type of person she is, you know to avoid them. Some people are just better separated and I don't like repeating myself. Bad enough I have to see you tart up like some queer before you go chase them.”

“Well, dad, what am I: a queer or a pussy chaser?!” Billy shot back sarcastically, unable to stop it, and Neil grabbed him by his shirt with two iron fists. The teen slammed into the wall, head throbbing before he was slapped. Spots exploded in his eyes.

“Neil,” Susan appeared like a tiny mouse in the doorway. Billy jerked around and Neil slammed him into the shelves this time. His son froze, eyes lifting as if he could escape the moment. “Please.”

“Not until this little shit learns his place! You disrespect my house. You chase filthy little...sluts.” Neil growled and Billy grew petrified, eyes glazed over. “You stay away from that girl. There are certain people I will not have near my house and that girl is one of them. I teach you nothing? Say, yes.” Billy’s lip trembled. "What was that?"

“Yes, sir.” He scratched. Neil yanked to push him away roughly and Billy stumbled, falling to the floor. Susan just watched, she appeared sorry. Terrified.

“You both-”

“Oh, fuck off, Susan.” Billy jabbed as if to egg his dad on when this became too damn much. Neil came to a skidding stop, whirling before one steel toed shoe knocked into Billy’s stomach.

“Neil!” Susan called to stop him. Billy hacked for air, lungs gave an unpleasant spasm. Clear vomit hit the floor along with blood from his lip.

“What do you say?” Neil tore a hand into dirty blond curls.

“I’m...” Billy heaved too hard to get his breath back. It burned. Drool fell down his bloodied mouth. Eyes bloodshot and wet. “I’m sorry, Susan.”

“Neil, stop. Please.” Another well placed smack stung and Neil was crossing to go out, pushing Susan along before the door slammed. Billy climbed into bed and pulled his legs up so he was a ball. Quiet sobs hitched. Max curled up in her room too. Staring at the wall she and Billy shared. She brought her legs to her chest and tucked her own head down to cry.

** ** **

“Drive me home.” Camille shoved the picture back. “This is-”

“It’s real. All of it.”

“You’re talking about other dimensions and little magic girls. This is some sci-fi conspiracy shit, Nancy. This isn't you. Drive me home.” Camille pressed. “And you think my dad knows, what the fuck, Nance? My father is literally the epitome of mild mannered scientist. He fits every stereotype for god’s sake. It's annoying. He can’t even kill spiders in our house. He makes mom do it. He’s studied his whole life to-”

“Just keep an open mind. Watch him. You know something's been off. You know it. They must hide things from you, Cam.” The old nickname made Camille softer. “They’re never home. Search and you’ll find something. Anything.”

“This is crazy. And Mike’s group knows. Chief Hopper. Joyce Byers. Steve?! What am I-?”

“Please, just try and if you don’t find anything you can shove it back in my face.” Nancy promised. “Jonathan and I are going into the lab. We’re taking them down. For Barb and Will and El and everyone else they hurt.”

“And this Eleven girl?”

“They stole her and used her as a test subject. There were others. She disappeared. Mike...they cared about her and he’s been broken up about it. That’s why he’s acting out. Promise me that you’ll be careful and just...keep an eye out.” Camille thought of the attic room. “What is it?”

“There’s a...” She stopped, sighing. Sanity was long overrated. “Fine. I’ll play.”

“Don’t tell anyone in your house. Not even Edna. It’s not safe.” Jonathan offered as they drove home. Camille observed all the dead farms on the way. This town was losing it.

“I got it.” Camille rubbed her eyes. “This is heavy. I’ll...keep an open mind.” Something more was off. Something inside her. That feeling fed too much. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Camille...thank you.” Nancy reached to touch her hand. Camille could only nod.

“Where did you go?” Noah appeared the moment she came inside.

“They might cancel school tomorrow. Have to redo wiring and clean up half of it after the power went haywire. Nancy and Jonathan are...having some relationship problems. Teenage stuff. You know? Glad that I'm single.”

"As am I, honey," he'd joked, touching her shoulders. “Take it easy tomorrow. We’ll all be out. You call if you get worse again. Promise me.”

“Promise.”

“There’s my girl. I love you.”

“I love you, daddy.” She came to hug him, eyes on the family photo behind him. Camille suppressed tears. Held him tighter.

“Take these before you go to bed. Different dose. I’ll bring you a new bottle later on with instructions.”

“Thank you.” Camille climbed the stairs, numb. She locked her door and went into the bathroom, seating herself on the tub. Slowly, she uncurled her fist to see the little blue capsules. Cheeks sucked in. A frown etched her face with anger. Splashes sounded when they dropped into the toilet. Camille flushed them down and got up to see herself in the mirror. Hands gripped the sink. Free. She huffed out and lifted her eyes. Red rimmed and tired. “Fuck.” Another bright idea popped into her brain. A horrible, bright idea. She found her voice at last and made the decision. “Hope you’re up for this.”

** ** **

“Hello?” Max picked up the phone when it rang early that next morning.

“Max? Hi, um, is Billy there? It’s Camille.”

“Yeah, he’s here.” There was shuffling and a huff.

“Harpy?” Billy was flat.

“Hi, ah, um-” Camille twisted the phone cord in hand.

"Waiting."

“So...they canceled the rest of this week. Guess the building is a little totaled. Catch up will be hell but, ah, I wanted to know if you could come over.”

“I have a date later."

"Cancel it." She shrugged. "You'll have other dates. You're the Keg King. Come over here instead."

"Why?”

“Um, oh, just the...the paper. Get a head start, Strode will want it first thing Monday. She’ll be looking for immaculate work since we got time off. You want the grade, help earn it.” Camille lied and it was silent so she played his game. Voice changing. "My house is empty." Billy inhaled through his nose.

“Fine.”

“Right, I’ll-” the line went dead, “-see you.” It was ten minutes before Billy tore into her driveway. She opened the door and saw his face, gasping.

“Pretty, huh?” He snuffed out a smoke and came in. No use making up a fake fight story. She knew him. That already grated. A nasty red welt marred his cheek and his bottom lip was cut, swollen still.

“He-”

“So, the damn paper. Huh.”

“I lied.” Camille shut the door and picked up a long essay stapled together. “I got up and did the paper. It’s good, we’ll get an A.”

“I read the book for you...for nothing.” He quirked one brow. "And I cancelled a date."

“Yes...um, shoes. I need a favor.” She pointed and Billy rolled his eyes. Boots slipped off and his coat plopped to the couch. He tossed his arms out and let them drop.

"Queen needs a favor."

"Great thing about favors is paying them back." Camille didn't hesitate and his eyes snapped to her own.

“Well, you got me here and now you have my full attention.” Billy fell against a chair, arms up over the back. His legs spread and he observed her. She ignored the idea he obviously had. “What favor?” He noticed her fidget. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure anymore.” Camille stepped toward him, summoned the courage. "I just...I need... Ugh, this is crazy. It's crazy and you're going to think I'm crazy."

"Too late but, I'm in the boat with you. So, talk."

"It's a small thing."

"What," Billy eyed her, "do you need from me?"

“I need you to help me pick the lock on the attic.” Billy’s chest heaved when he laughed, pain vibrated up his side so he held his ribs.

“Fuck, Harper, I thought you had something difficult. Fine, I'll bite now. Better be good.” He swayed on his feet to follow her upstairs.

“Housekeeper won’t be in until Thursday and my parents are occupied until...I never know anymore. We have plenty of time.” Camille led him to the door.

“Why break daddy’s rules today?” Billy dropped to one knee and dug for his keys, pulling two silver tools from it.

“Because I don’t know who to trust anymore,” she confessed and he stopped to see her eyes again. They cast and burned.

"So, you trust me."

"Shocking. ...I guess I don't find you to be a very good liar." Camille admitted. Somehow that was comforting. He seemed to accept such an answer. “Do it. Show me how.”

“Not much to it, watch.” Billy jimmied the lock and Camille was intent. She sniffled on what may have been a thin trail of blood. “And...shit...okay, your dad knows what he’s doing. But...I got it.” The door popped open and she gazed up the stairs. “Princess, first.”

“I feel like if I go up the stairs, everything is going to change and I...” Tears welled. Didn’t fall. “I can’t come back.”

“Already awake, remember? Now move your pretty ass before you kill the rest of my social life.” He’d gestured.

"You don't have to stay."

"And miss out on daddy's top secret project? Fuck, no. I cancelled a date. You're stuck with me." Billy was intrigued now. Camille looked at his hand so he offered it. Fingers clasped and she followed the steps up with Billy behind her. Her breath puffed when they reached the top. It was...nothing. A metal desk and lamp. Books. Loads of file cabinets. Small TV and VCR. “So, your dad is boring. Got it. Hope this was worth it.” He watched her step forward, releasing him. Light came into the room from an oculus above them.

“Thought it would be a suitcase full of cash or a long lost sister.” Camille remarked. "Guess I get to rub it in Nancy's face. To think that I really believed for a moment."

"Believed what?"

"It's stupid. Just a bunch of lab shit. I was just paranoid, I mean this is..." She yanked and a file cabinet didn’t budge.

"Your dad doesn't ever let you in." Billy observed. "Locks the door with fancy shit. And he locks the cabinets. The hell?"

“Sounds like a person with something to hide... Let me try.” Camille sighed at herself. Billy handed his lockpick over.

“So, you just-”

“Got it,” she popped the drawer open and gave them back like it was nothing. “Quick learner.”

“Right...” He watched her sift through files. All marked with dates and three little numbers. 006.

“What the hell is all this?” Camille opened them up along the metal desk. A picture fell out and Billy picked it up, recalling the photos along the house.

“The fuck...” He gave a funny look then turned it. “Is that you?” A skinny child. Shaved head. Hospital gown. Distinct beauty mark. Standing awkward and squinting at the camera. Her arm was raised to block the flash. Three numbers etched her skin. 006. Camille looked down at her own arm. The tiny burn that must have melted those numbers away. The scar twitched.

“This is me. All of it.” She heaved, snapping files open to absorb information. “My childhood...was complicated. Spotty. They kept me inside. I was a sickly kid. So I thought...” She read blurbs as she went and Billy was frozen. “Meds. Electroshock. Fuck. My whole life...he told me how important I was. But, to who?” Camille read onward, world crumbling. She recognized her own damn father’s handwriting in some of these.

“...Six shows no special signs. Nothing… Termination possible….”

“Six rouses no reaction yet when prodded into emotional state. Further tests on file….”

“Today, we hit a breakthrough… Must develop reading skills. Six learned English and writing in four days. Has the advanced vocabulary and grammar of an adult at four years old. Made to read...what the hell...surpassed every reading, writing, and recollection test. Photographic memory proven. Muscle memory pending. Must investigate further.” Camille was ripping through files and Billy shook his head.

“Harpy...”

“Quiet,” she hissed. “Six, deemed the most average, will participate in the assimilation and repression study. Dosage adjusts. Repression is possible.”

“Camille.”

“No!” She whipped around this time, fingers shaking. He met her eyes and froze. “...Dr. Harper and his wife have agreed to...to…” Camille felt herself sink. “Edna Mathias will serve on staff. Six will do what none of them are ready for. Subject will be introduced to the outside. Must be wiped clean first. Abilities controlled… Stimulation is key. Subject will return at the right time for further testing. Possible age eighteen. Can these subjects function in the outer world? ...Controlled…suppressed… Can they be forced to adapt? ...Spies… Oh, god. Oh, my fucking god.” Camille was teetering, ripping up tapes to shove one into the TV.

“What...is this?” Billy watched her fall to her knees before the screen. A little girl at the table. Rocking. A huge book in front of her.

“Six, solve the equation.” She watched a too small child do perfect calculus. Camille went for more tapes. A younger Noah Harper bonding with her. Running tests while she cried and cried. An older man named Brenner joined them. These men trained her. Groomed her. She saw herself speak foreign languages. Copy intricate dance moves. She was a dancing money. Mimicking everything. A twittering mockingbird. Billy lurched forward and turned it off.

“Hey!” She pushed at him so he ripped her up.

“Camille, what the fuck is this?!” Her head tipped forward to his chest when she broke. A scream wailed and Billy watched the glass window vibrate. A single crack drew down it. Camille sniffled blood again and swallowed.

“They lied. They lied...” She was sobbing at full blast. “Don’t you get it...? This is me, all of it is me. Everything. My life. It's the experiment! I'm the experiment!” Camille pushed from him. “Fake adoption papers… A test subject. My life...it’s all a fucking lie! They crafted it like paper dolls. Fashioned it to fit their ideals so I'd...” Her lungs ached. “They stole me...and gave me to...” Camille ripped for more information. Until she saw two names. “Adam King...Status: Deceased. Judith King...Status: Unstable. Current location...Dayton, Ohio.”

“Camille, you got to explain this shit to me.” Billy’s hands were on her again. “You’re tell me that your rich lab rat father...stole a fucking kid and... You're right, this is crazy.”

“Hawkins Lab. They took me. They did. Six… I think they took others.” Eleven.

“This fucking town,” Billy rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t tell you...everything. Things happened last year and we...were all were lied to. Something awful happened in that lab and it’s rotting Hawkins.” Camille was in a hurry to put everything back. Perfect like it was never touched. She slammed the file cabinet and Billy grasped her hands to slow her.

“This...is unreal. And you think...you have some kind of ability. This isn’t a fucking movie."

“One way to find out.” Her face cracked with a smile that jarred him. He knew the game wasn't over. "Another favor?"

“Fuck.”

** ** **

“Max!” Billy was calling while Camille waited by his car. “Come outside. Bring your skateboard.”

“Billy, not now!”

“Max, I swear to god!” He bellowed again and she growled to herself, tearing outside.

“What?!” Her anger faded when she saw Camille’s eyes. “Do you know? They said you did now.”

“How do you know? How much did they-”

“You know who. And not enough. They're-”

“You’re hanging out with them again?” Billy was tense.

"Not like they want me around either!"

“Hey, both of you need to chill because I'm already mid-breakdown. Max, I need a weird favor. Show me a skateboard trick.” Camille touched Billy’s chest.

“Uh, why?”

“Curiosity.”

“Why am I the only one outside this loop?” Billy got between them and Max grabbed her board.

“Just...relax.” Camille sniffled. “It’s not safe. Just go with it.”

“Fucking damn it, Camille.” He’d mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His fault for pursuing a fox.

“Do a trick. Your choice.”

“Okay...” Max wheeled herself down the street and back up, she ollied then landed with ease.

“Now, let me try.” Camille came forward, that same intent expression on her face.

“Um, why?”

“Because I’m going insane and I want an audience for it.” The older teen took the board and set it down. Testing, she put one foot on it and pumped herself forward. Billy and Max watched in awe as she repeated the same move and kicked the board up to catch it.

“Shit, Harper...”

“I thought you didn’t skateboard.” Max gestured.

“...I don’t.” Camille breathed heavily, eyes landing on Billy to confirm her fears. “Max, thank you this has been helpful. Billy, we gotta go.”

“Where?” He whined this time, exhausted with questions.

“Now! Max, if you see Mike and them...tell them to find Nancy and Jonathan. Tell them I said they were right. Billy, get in, what are you still standing there for? Favor isn't over, beach boy.” She ushered him off. Max watched the Harper girl practically kidnap her brother. They sped away and Camille was quick.

“Dayton, Ohio. I need you to take me there. To the address on file. Few hours tops at your speed.” Camille yanked a map from his dash.

“Fuck that. I’m taking you home and I’m waking up from whatever trip this is. And I'm going to go get laid.” No more queen bees for him.

"Your lay can wait. You saw it. You already know too much. I'm not letting you go."

"What the fuck does that mean?" He sped still.

“Billy, I can’t explain everything. Just know that this might be my only chance for answers and I need you. Okay? I fucking need your help. Hard to say, but...yes, I trust you and not many others right now. There. God, I'm sick. That lab sat there...and those children. And Barb. Fuck, I’m...an idiot.”

“You’re telling me there’s a whole big, magical fucking conspiracy in manure land?”

“Something in that direction. Might be exciting for you. I'll owe you a million favors. I...I want to meet this Judith woman, she knows something.” Camille begged. “My life...never added up. You know what I would give to put the pieces together for the first time? To know the full truth. My parents...lied to me. My life. It’s all fake. It was doctored and written out before I could...live it. I have to go. I’ll drive myself if you don’t take me. I'll fucking hitchhike. Frankly, I don’t want to do this alone. You saw that room. Billy, I need you.” Couldn't let him out of sight now that he knew.

“Harper,” Billy stopped at a light and rubbed his head. He looked into her eyes. Pleading. It broke him. “God fucking damn it.” He made a U turn and sped the other direction, grumbling. "Only going because I don't even want to get laid anymore."

“Thank you, Billy.” She offered.

“Long drive ahead. Start talking.”

“I...I can’t tell you all about last year. But, my friends went through an ordeal and I fucking missed it.” Camille held herself. “Nancy found out something about Barb going missing last year. Something to do with Hawkins Lab. She asked me to spy on my dad. He keeps everything about his work private. That lab did something horrible and it has to stop.”

“You think there are five more little shits with...with...powers walking about?”

“I don’t know, I just know they stole kids and tortured them for sick experiments. I know the parents of those kids never made it out either.”

“The lights.” Billy recalled. “Let me wrap my head around this and I will collect on those favors.”

“Ditto and I expect nothing less.” She agreed. “Stop at a payphone, I need to lie to my lying god damn father. Can I have a cigarette?” Billy peered at her, lips lifting.

“Help yourself.”

** ** **

“This can’t be it.” Billy looked up at the building.

“It’s the right address.” The grey sky threatened to darken above. Camille read the sign. “This is basically an old folks home...a fancy ass psych ward.”

“How are we supposed to get in?”

“Follow my lead,” Camille marched inside the sliding doors. Not a plan in sight. A receptionist looked up at them. “I’m looking for a Judith King. I’m her niece. This is my...brother.” She smiled bright and the lady didn’t look impressed, clicking into the computer. Billy tried not to make a face at that.

“Name?”

“Uh, Carrie.” She’d lied.

“Not on the list. No visit.”

“Miss, we drove all this way...we go to college and can’t ever come see her but took the day to make up for that.”

“Shame. Sorry, kid, you’re not on the list.” She continued. Billy loosened his coat and eyed Camille when she turned to go around the corner.

“Wait, uh, Carrie, that was pathetic.” Billy muttered as they went back down the hall.

"You think I don't know that? I'm frazzled. What do you suggest?"

“Follow my lead.” He swaggered forward and leaned down back at the desk, arms crossing. “Hi there.” That Billy Hargrove charm oozed out with a devilish smile. The young woman stilled to meet his eyes. “Look, ah, Miss…?”

“Maria.”

“Maria.” Billy drawled, licking his lips. “I know you’re just following the rules.” He pulled a cherry candy from the nearby dish and set it between his teeth. Camille crossed her arms to flush. “But, I’d greatly appreciate it if you could make an exception. Just once.” Deft fingers tucked hair behind her ear. “Come on...” He uttered in that velvet tone. “Do it for me. I admit...I’m ashamed. I haven’t seen my dear Aunt. I have to make it up to her and I need your help, Maria. Just a few moments and we’ll be out of your pretty hair. Scout’s honor to behave. Cross my heart.” Fingers drew an X over his chest, the shirt button opened. “Hope to live.”

"I don't know."

"Maria..." That sing-song tone hooked her. Billy was intent, swaying and lax. "It'll be our little secret."

“Well, okay, just this once,” she whispered.

“Maria. You are a gem...I won't soon forget it.” Billy winked and she giggled. Camille tried not to roll her eyes. Billy took two visitor passes and pressed them to his lips. “Appreciate it, dollface.” His eyebrows lifted. Smug when he peered again at Camille so she followed him.

“Take the elevator to four. An orderly will show you to her.” Maria called and Billy winked at Camille this time. Her lips twitched, eyes averting because she loathed him.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t push it.” She could have kissed this stupid boy right there.

“Push it? You kidnapped me into some...weird manure land conspiracy.”

“That I did.” They went up. The orderly gestured and Camille felt her hands shake.

“Judy...there are two kids here to see you.” He showed them into a small room. A woman rocked and watched the television. Ballet played before her. She had the same dark hair save for early flashes of silver. The same green, hazel eyes. Face shape down to that damn beauty mark. Billy felt his stomach dip. The woman didn’t look up, transfixed on the TV before her.

“Judith?” Camille tried.

“She hasn’t spoken since she arrived,” the man replied. "About seventeen years ago."

“Sir, we...um...we weren’t there for, you know, the incident. We were so young. Can you tell me what exactly happened? Our parents don’t like to talk about it.” Camille managed.

“Ah, well, Judith suffered some sort of head trauma. She and her husband were in a terrible car accident, I think. Adam, the husband, he died on impact. And so did their unborn baby at the hospital. Awful thing. She was almost to the full nine months.”

“Unborn baby.” Camille pressed her lips together. Billy stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Yes. She came to us catatonic. The generosity of an old friend paid her way. Nice couple.”

“A nice...couple.”

“Judy, here, she doesn’t do much. She sure likes to watch the ballet. Classical stuff calms her down. She liked to crochet dolls. Little ballerinas. Church choir kids who visit sure love them. She’s probably trying to communicate in some way. You know, with her lost daughter.”

“Daughter?” Billy lifted his eyes from Camille’s stiffening back.

“Yes, they were having a little girl.” He smiled. “Judith doesn’t get many visitors. Except for the woman. About every other month. Comes and gives her fresh flowers. Talks to her a few hours. You see?” Camille turned her eyes to a vase of wilting sunflowers. Her world snapped apart.

“Thank you...for telling us. Can we have a moment alone?” Camille forced a grin and the man shut the door. Billy reached out to touch her shoulder and she flinched. “No...no.” She knelt down. “Judith?” She tried. “Judy, look at me. Now.” Nothing. “Mom.” The word tore. Her rocking stopped. “Mommy, I’m sorry.” Camille took her hand and eyes landed on her own. For just a beat, Judy saw her. A tiny Star of David hung from her neck. Billy lingered back as if he would break the moment like glass. “My name is Camille. I’m your daughter. I’m your little girl. I’m sorry. They did this to you. I can’t fix it.” Camille wept softly in her mother’s lap. The woman lifted a frail hand to touch soft locks of hair, petting her. Not enough registered. “She knows me. She does. Mom?” Judith reached into her robe pocket for a limp doll. A ballet dancer. She offered it and then she was gone again. Rocking.

“Camille, we have to go.” Billy had to break the glass.

“No, she knows me.” Camille clutched the ballerina close. Billy grasped her shoulders to bring her up. “No, no...she knows me. Wait. Wait...I can get through. I can fix it. I have to. Mom... Mom, I love you.” A tear rolled down Judy’s cheek. She just rocked with wide eyes. Camille felt herself flutter and tumble. Her mother was gone. Her identity was gone. Billy got her out of there and walked her to the elevator. He ignored Maria on the way to the door and pressed Camille into his car. She rocked too now, curling up with the toy in hand. Billy turned on the car and she broke. A scream stifling into the yarn and stuffing. The price to put these lost fragments together was high. Not even thinking, Billy had his arms around her to stop it. She cried and squirmed. He squeezed her tighter until she was raw. “Please, just take me back. Please, Billy.” He pulled off his brown bomber jacket and let her burrow under it. Air conditioning dried her red, splotched face. Camille wept most of the way home and Billy just let her without a word.

** ** **

They parked in front of her place and Camille didn’t move. She stared at that huge, pretty house. Numb. Billy unbuckled and turned when she followed.

"You think...they were running? The car accident?" Camille swallowed.

"If they were running with you, it means they gave a shit." It meant they loved her.

"You believe it, don't you? You believe now."

"Like I have a choice." He'd exhaled, sobering.

“Do not say anything about this.” She warned with hard eyes.

“Who can I tell?” He scoffed. “Don’t tell them what you know either. These people. The damn maid. You play Queen Bee and stay out of their shit.”

“I trusted her. I trusted them. It’s all red now.” Camille trembled and slid closer to Billy next to her.

“Camille.” He felt her invade his space. His jacket fell from her torso. Faltering on the spot, she seemed intoxicated and offered the words he wanted since she popped that pretty pink bubble.

“I want...to try something.” Camille ran her hands up his chest and he inhaled deeper. Skin fizzled upon contact. Palms cupped his face, ran back into curls. He didn’t try to touch her, he just stared at her face. Head cocked back and she kissed his neck. Light like a butterfly’s wings. Her lips edged and he grew aroused. Hands lifted to touch her wrists so she came up to see his face. Eyes looked deep into his. Sparkling. “I want you.” Her voice was hoarse. She didn't try to kiss his lips. “I want you. Billy.” She gave a sort of whine against him, forehead on his. He could have laid her back and made her feel good. Slid his hands under her sweater. Let her caress him. Completed the chase at last. But, he didn’t. Any other day but not this one. Not this fucking day. He saw a bloodied fox clamped tight within the sharp teeth of a vicious jackal. He didn't want to be that jackal. Didn't want to pick her from his teeth later as if it was the only way to recall her taste. For once. Billy felt his own flesh pulse. He pulled her wrists back and exhaled her out of his skin, eyes lifting to see her own well up.

“You only want me now,” Billy Hargrove smashed the glass this time, “because you hate yourself.” Camille sat back. Eyes flickering over his face. A sort of grim acceptance seeped into her expression. She inhaled. Became stone. Became the queen bee. Only because it was all she could do now. Camille got out and smacked the door shut. She didn’t look back at him. Billy watched each light flicker on and off as she moved through that house again. Utterly alone. He didn’t leave. He just sat in his car and pulled his jacket back into his lap. Upstairs, Camille wandered like a ghost, shifting into her parent’s medicine cabinet. She stole a bottle they wouldn’t notice and went to her room. Pills stuffed down her throat like a kid with candy. She didn’t stop, not until the room spun. Not until there was a knock upon her window. The bottle dropped and scattered her treats all over. Lulling, Camille fell back against the front of her bed and looked once more at the doll smashed in her fist. It was all gone and she didn’t care.

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #Mine #Without the Lights #BILLY X CAMILLE #Camille Harper #writing #billyhargrove #stranger things fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

wwwps4 · 4 years

Text

Detroit

Can robots feel? To empathize? To do? Despite years of research, scientists do not give clear answers. And where science is powerless, fiction comes to the fore. Last year, with the help of NieR: Automata, Taro Yoko tried to get to the truth. Now David cage, the author of the interactive thrillers Heavy Rain and Beyond: Two Souls, has decided to present his view on the problems of artificial intelligence. Well, guys, myltso? On the blade Near future. Technology has made another leap, and the achievements of Boston Dynamics are in the past: androids are already among us, their appearance and behavior are barely distinguishable from ordinary people. Indispensable helpers and cheap slaves in one person, the" children " of CyberLife have been performing the most thankless work for years, bearing the humiliation of the Almighty masters. But nothing lasts forever: suddenly, in Detroit, one after another, deviants begin to appear-machines that have gained self-awareness.

Detroit: Become Human

In a matter of months, humanity is on the verge of war with its greatest creation. Now, in the darkest hour, the fate of the world depends on the actions of ordinary robots, not people. Marcus, the old artist's Butler, is stranded on the street in an accident. Connor, a police officer, hunts for "broken" brothers and tries to find out the reason for their madness. Kara, the housekeeper, runs off with her owner's daughter when he raises his hand to his own child. Heroes are waiting for incredible adventures, and their paths will cross more than once. And who knows how their amazing story will end?

Light, camera, shame Video games have long been made with an eye on Hollywood. Game designers spy on the Directors ' techniques, more and more screensavers from year to year, and the traditional gameplay is regularly replaced with spectacular QTE. It seems as if developers want to" shoot " movies, rather than sculpt conveyor blockbusters. Only a few people have the courage to say this openly. Few people except David cage and his Studio Quantic Dream.

Detroit: Become Human

Unlike other famous teams, the French company has long ceased to disguise itself: since 2005, it has been exclusively engaged in interactive cinema, where there is no place for shootings with terrorists, boss fights, or other distracting nonsense from the narrative. Cage's logic is impeccable: the industry is already littered with shooters like Call of Duty, why not do something original? But to create such masterpieces, you need skill. Talent. And here's the problem: the Frenchman has nothing else but naked enthusiasm.

Omikron: the Nomad Soul, Fahrenheit, Heavy Rain, Beyond: Two Souls... Each of his opus is a story about how a good idea was ruined by a bad performance. Whatever the game, it's a beautiful dummy-fascinating at first, and then, closer to the final, falling apart. So it was hard to expect anything good from Detroit: Become Human (with its banal beginning). And all the same old cage I found something to surprise.

Detroit: Become Human

Double Detroit is an emphatically cinematic adventure that tells the fates of several characters at once. As before, the player is required to do relatively little: walk around locations, collect or view garbage, talk a lot, pass sophisticated QTE and survive. Yes, unlike many of the genre's peers, in Become Human (as in the ever-memorable Heavy Rain), the characters can die, and the plot will move on quietly — though, already in the direction of a bad ending. This is not a peaceful LucasArts quest.

Already from the introductory chapters, the new product is perceived as one big work on mistakes — as if all these years the authors studied reviews of their creations, threw out unsuccessful elements and kept working. The output turned out to be a kind of collection of "the best of". Check the boxes: a futuristic world a La Omikron (alas, without David Bowie), an intriguing Fahrenheit introduction with dozens of scenarios, investigative episodes, the death of the protagonists and elements of the heavy Rain interface, Hollywood actors just like in Beyond. Even the main menu resembles the beginning of the Nomad Soul — only instead of a low-poly model, a beautiful girl breaks the fourth wall. Try not to blush.

Detroit: Become Human

And it seems that everything is familiar, familiar, but there is nothing to swear at: from the point of view of game design, the game is made wisely. Even the usual genre flaws here, in the new context, do not look so scary and critical. Do robots speak in an unnatural, UN-human way? Logically, the same pieces of iron! Invisible walls prevent you from exploring locations? Of course, the program does not allow you to deviate from the set course! Bullets don't kill or even slow down characters during action scenes, and wounds heal too quickly? Cars, what to take from them.

However, these are rather pleasant things — the really impressive thing about Detroit: Become Human is something else. Here (unlike the series of some Telltale), the decisions made by the gamer during the "movie" really affect what is happening — very noticeably change the story. At first, the linear narrative branches out over time: unique mini-episodes are opened, even fleeting dialogues and individual chapters vary. And endings are determined not by the choice of a specific scene in the final, but by a number of not always obvious moments. How thoroughly did Connor study the crime scenes? Had Kara managed to escape from her master? And how?

Detroit_ Become Human_20180522213231

Conceptually, the mechanics are similar to the "butterfly effect" Until Dawn (or the earlier Blade Runner from Westwood): do something or say-prepare for the consequences, the authors will not allow the descent. Unless in the Supermassive Games horror movie there were much less variations of the development of events: in this regard, chamber horror is difficult to compete with the cyberpunk epic. Quantic Dream employees have done a lot of work, and they do not hesitate to demonstrate this by drawing giant diagrams at the end of each Chapter, similar to the intricate chronology of some Metal Gear Solid. A good way to mask loading screens!

In other words, in terms of gameplay, the new product really succeeded. Taking the best of their previous creations and borrowing a couple of other people's inventions, the authors finally fulfilled their promise: they released a real interactive movie. Hooray? Hooray. But unfortunately, Detroit is still David cage's "Need more emotion" game. With all the consequences.

Be a man Alas, in the five years since the premiere of Beyond, the head of Quantic Dream has not learned to write good scripts. Even with the help of new assistants and editors, all he managed to compose was at best a mediocre melodrama about racism, where the roles of oppressed Negroes were assigned to soulless androids. Vulgar metaphors and clumsy references to real historical events (up to the Nazi concentration camps!) attach.

Detroit: Become Human

Admittedly, it's very funny to watch such obvious and artless nonsense in 2018. There are no bright new ideas, unprecedented sci-Fi concepts, or unique views on AI problems. Instead — it is a continuous repetition of what has been studied with a lot of loud words, high-sounding platitudes and obligatory tears in artificial eyes. The characters are all drawn up according to the textbook of archetypes and communicate such Terry platitudes that at times the game borders on self-parody. Sometimes it even seems that Lieutenant Frank Drebin from the Naked gun is about to turn the corner and everything will fall into place. But that would be too subtle. Well, at least there was no nonsense in the spirit of Heavy Rain, that is, attempts to hit and turn what is happening upside down, somehow. Here everything fits into the fragile logic of a fabulous cyberpunk universe, where a robot service can be bought for a measly 899 dollars, and Canada is a futuristic Wonderland.

However, not everything is so sad. There are also good scenes in Detroit — and such that it's not even a shame to watch! They are concentrated mainly in the storyline of Connor (who has to play a buddy movie in the spirit of the series "Almost human"). There is humor, and "chemistry" between two dissimilar partners, and quite a sensible dialogue almost without stupid "snot", from which it is time to roll your eyes. Looking at the amazing adventures of an Android and a grumpy detective Anderson, you keep asking yourself: "why the hell are there two other protagonists in this game?»

1 note · View note

howtohero · 4 years

Text

#249 The Death of Your Nemesis

(Note: This is Part Two of a three part story. Part One. Part Three.)

Uh. Ok, so your nemesis has died. The person you’ve gone head to head with for years and years. The enemy of yours who, without fail, always strives to make things as personal as possible, is gone... Good! You’ll be better off, and the world will be better off with them. You can finally dedicate your time to dealing with more systemic ills in your neighborhood. No longer will you have to alienate everyone you love because there’s always the slim chance that on any given day your nemesis could discover who you are and take vengeance on your friends and family. When your nemesis dies, that’s a reason to party. You’re free of them! Forever! Huzzah! You may not have been able to kill them due to some complicated moral code that only allows you to kill their henchmen, but that doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate their demise!

(Oooooook buddy, why don’t sit this one out. You’re going through a lot right now.)

I’m fine! Why shouldn’t I be fine! My nemesis, Dr. Brainwave, a convicted supervillain who was living, rent-free, in my basement, is dead. I’m free of him. I’m doing great!

(All right, totally. We can all see that you’re handling this with dignity and poise. Why don’t you let me deal with this one.)

Well I suppose I have been training you as my apprentice so that you could one day write blog posts on your own...

(Sure, that’s what our relationship is. So why don’t you go outside, take a breather, and let me handle today’s entry.

What the man says is true. Dr. Brainwave is dead and I guess, technically speaking, he was our nemesis. He’s threatened our lives more times than we count. {We are notoriously bad counters though.} He’s destroyed our home, our place of work, our garden filled with one-of-a-kind miracle veggies. {Immortality radishes, vampiric celery, tasty kale.} And yet, he’s always been there, and I think we kind of just assumed he always would be. You see, a nemesis is not just another supervillain that you’ve got to fight with alarming frequency. They’re a major part of your life. Oftentimes your nemesis will know you better than anybody else in your social circle. Sure, they only took the time to get to know you on this deep level so that they could inflict all manner of psychological torture upon you, but still, it’s kind of nice that they invested that time in you.

A superhero’s relationship with their nemesis is always going to be complicated. You’ll usually see them more than you see your family. You’ll see them at their highest {when they believe that they’ve killed you} and at their lowest {surprisingly enough, after they’ve succeeded in killing you and find their life to be devoid of all meaning and purpose} you’ll occasionally find yourself fighting alongside them and yeah, in some twisted way, you’re going to form a kind of meaningful relationship with them. So what are you even supposed to do when they’ve died? Granted, you’re not as fanatically dependent on them for your continued existence and purpose as they are on you. There will always be crimes to stop and evil to vanquish. But any superhero would be hard-pressed to deny that their lives would be a little bit emptier without their nemesis. Perhaps that’s the real reason why so few superheroes actually kill their nemeses.

If you feel like you need to mourn the passing of your nemesis, that’s ok. You should allow yourself to space to do that. Do something that they would’ve loved. Hold a {vacant} bridge hostage, kick a {robot, stuffed, already dead} puppy into the sun, burn yourself in effigy! If you’re worried about getting attacked by other supervillains if you attend a funeral or memorial service for your nemesis don’t worry! Supervillains usually are not friends with one another. That funeral is gonna be hella empty. You can go there with no problem. Besides, supervillain funerals have been poorly attended ever since Lady Richter used her “funeral” as an opportunity to drop many of her fellow supervillains into a bottomless chasm. Ever since then, supervillains have had a hard time believing that any of their colleagues are actually dead. If any other supervillains attend your nemesis’ funeral, they’ll be lugging around giant ladders in case a bottomless chasm opens up beneath them, and they will be too exhausted to fight you.

The whole How To Hero crew {me, Parentheses Guy, Zach, Lawyer Guy, Dr. Brainwave’s Greatest Shame, Diego A. Wayghosts, Todd The Bomb-Disposal Bot} attended Dr. Brainwave’s funeral and, lo and behold, the only other person in attendance was Dr. Brainwave’s other nemesis, Professor Brain-Scrambler. {There was also, of course, a large contingent of mutant alligators.} He actually spoke quiet beautifully about his mad scientist colleague, after which we pulled him over to the side and told him that he was a hack and that he could suck it, in line with Dr. Brainwave’s final wishes. All in all it was a very emotional 2 am-4 am. {Supervillain funerals almost exclusively take place during this time which is colloquially known as “the witching hour.”} The funeral home was a bit cold, and I would say it was definitely haunted, but overall, it was a pretty solid funeral I’d say.

Once you’ve spent some mourning the loss of an important and ever-present figure in your life, there is some housekeeping that you need to do. Reach out to your nemesis’ loved ones and express your condolences. The last thing you want is for their loved ones to vow revenge on you and beginning the cycle anew. If you can, talk with their loved ones, estranged family members, sidekicks, or unholy creations and make them understand that you were not responsible for the death of their loved ones. The quicker you do this the better. Blaming a superhero for the death of a loved one is 17th most common supervillain origin story. {number 68 is having your coal company run out of business by windmill farms but number 33 will blow your mind.} In our case, we sat down with Dr. Brainwave’s legions of mutant alligators and several hours of teeth baring and jaw snapping, a fragile peace agreement was forged. {The alligators for their part, behaved remarkably well. Not a single bared tooth or snapped jaw among them!}

Once that is taken care of you must attend to the rest of your nemesis’ personal affects. Their goons will be directionless, and this is a great time to many of them off the board. Have your friends in law enforcement scoop them up before they can find employment under a different supervillain. Or, if you really wanna get wild, invent a new identity for yourself, pose as a new supervillain, take control of your nemesis’ cronies, and then have them perform tasks that seem like crimes, but actually good deeds. Stuff like, “this old woman is an ancient evil spirt, help her cross the street” or “this is my territory now, nobody else is allowed to commit a crime here. If you see another villain doing crimes here, stop them!” Arrange operations against your nemesis’ lairs and begin systemically dismantling their operation. Since they were your nemesis you have the unique advantage of knowing where they’re likely to have kept most of their really cool stuff. And remember, in the souvenir game, it is first come, first serve. So lead the operation against their main fortress or stronghold yourself and claim all of those spleen-discombobulators and parasite helmets for yourself! For us, that just meant going into our own basement and, honestly, reclaiming a lot of stuff we thought we’d lost! We also blew up all of Dr. Brainwave’s stuff, as per his last will and testament. [Hi, again, a hastily scrawled note scratched into a chalkboard that says “destroy all of my Earthly things in the same manner in which I died” is not a will.] Well, we did it! And it was awesome! We didn’t even need to buy any explosives, it’s astounding how much of his stuff was already made out of bombs! {You know what? It’s actually pretty alarming how many explosives there were just under our house this entire time.})

Wait, how many bombs were there?

(I thought I told you to take the day off because you were being weird!)

You’re being weird! How many bombs did you find in Dr. Brainwave’s room?

(I don’t know, probably around 660. What do you think Curly?)

{I’d say around 664, maybe 665.}

Oh you have got to be kidding me.

(See, you’re being weird again. Buhbye! Now, any real superhero can’t exactly be without a nemesis. People will start to talk. “Oh yeah, that guy? He’s not really very superheroic, he doesn’t even have one evil person whose sole purpose in life is to destroy them. Poor guy.” So you need to find a new nemesis! {We recommend reading our advice for finding your first nemesis.} Try calling up all of your old enemies and see if they’d be interested in engaging in an eternal struggle between good and evil with you. Or, just go through the supervillain phonebook and pick a name that kind of seems like an inverse of your own name. {Or, if it’s still too soon for you to even think about replacing your dear departed nemesis, just prank call about of villains until you’re all cheered up.} Without Dr. Brainwave gone, we’ve obviously needed to start looking for a new supervillain correspondent... and, well... I guess just take a look at some of the auditions we’ve received.

Al “Da Boss” Marconi: “Ayyyy, da best way to save da world is to stab a twerp right between the eyes and laugh as he bleeds out on the pavement!” {Factually incorrect.}

Dr. Python: “So this job comes with a free room right? My last roommate turned out to be Ultiman so obviously that wasn’t going to work out and I kind of very badly need a new place to live.” {Seems to believe that living with Ultiman is a bad idea because he is a superhero but living with us is fine. Which leads us to believe he either doesn’t really get who we are, or does not respect us.}

Giorgio the Evil Mime: “...” {This guy was Zach’s top choice, but he is clearly grieving and not in his right mind. He seems to have forgotten that our supervillain correspondent needs to be able to speak and make intrusive comments on our blog posts.}

As you can see, we have been having some trouble, but luckily we’ve got interviews with Jhonny McBarn-Burner, Mustard Man and the dreaded Karalaxus who is actually a very pleasant guy once you agree to give up your free will and join his horde of mindless zombies. So hopefully one of those guys pans out.)

Stop everything! We don’t need a new supervillain correspondent. (Dude, for real, you need to take a break. You’re going a bit cuckoo you know?) No, I’m serious, and your face is a bit cuckoo actually so how about you step the heck off. (Rude.) We don’t need to replace Brainwave, because I don’t think he’s actually gone {What are you saying! Wait, did we actually all die in the explosion? Was he the only to survive? Is he mourning us? Which of us did he mourn the most? Me?} No, I believe that he’s dead. But I also believe that he died on purpose. (Well sure, we all saw him unrepentant supervillainously sacrifice himself so that we could live!) I don’t think he sacrificed himself at all actually. I think he planned on dying, and that he planned on benefitting from it in a way that none of us could have foreseen. (Ok, you’re gonna have to walk us through that.) Ok, so remember when we went through Brainwave’s stuff, we found a grand total of 665 bombs right? (I guess?) {We are notoriously bad at counting.} True, but I think we got it right this time. I think that there were only 665 explosive devices in Brainwave’s lair/our basement. [Only?] Yes only! What kind of fanatical supervillain builds so many explosives but stops before hitting 666! The devil’s number! I think he did have 666 bombs, until he mailed one to our office! (Wait, what? You think Brainwave sent us that bomb? That seems like a stretch.) Oh? Does it? The most evil person that we are acquainted with sent us a bomb? That seem awfully farfetched to you? (Well, when you put it like that...) And he was wearing rocket boots the whole time! We could’ve strapped the bomb to one of his rockets and launched it through the skylight without him having to carry it! {That reminds me, our landlord called and said that we definitely lost our security deposit because of that skylight.} (Ah DANG IT!!!!) I think that he waited until the timer was low to reveal that he was wearing rocket boots so he could make his sacrifice play. And hey, he knew that the time on the bomb was displaying the wrong time and yet he knew exactly when the bomb was actually going to go off. That isn’t suspicious to any of you??? (Look, if I made a big deal about everything I found suspicious our coworkers we’d never get anything done!) {Is this about my outstanding deal with the devil?} (No, actually.) And Parenthesis Guy, you even said that the funeral home seemed haunted during the funeral! What if that was Dr. Brainwave! What if he devised this whole scenario so he could die and become a ghost! (Why would he do that? And doesn’t this all seem a little convoluted.) Yeah, dude, he’s a supervillain! Something the rest of you seemed to have lost sight of. Of course he would come up with an absurdly complicated plan to become a ghost. From a supervillain’s perspective, being a ghost would be way better than being a frail old human with the physique of a scientist. (I don’t know man, I’m just not seeing it.) What! It makes total sense. He freaks us out with a bomb. Classic supervillain move. He puts us on an emotional rollercoaster by making us think he sacrificed himself to save us, causing us to question everything we thought we knew about the sort of person he was. All while shedding his physical form in order to commit crimes as a ghost. It’s a classic Brainwave move! (I think maybe you should lie down buddy. You’re starting to go a bit crazy. And not in a fun way like the rest of us.) {Yeah when you make us look like the sane ones you’ve gotta throw in the towel man.} Yeah. Yeah ok, maybe you’re right. (Yeah, maybe we’re right. Let’s call it day, we’ve still gotta go feed the mutant alligators.) You guys go ahead I’ll catch up. {Ok, remember to put on your armor before you enter the alligator pen this time.} Yeah, yeah I’ll remember. All right Brainwave, the others are gone. I know you’re here.

<Uch fine. You got me.> You absolute bas- <Listen, you’re right. I’m every name you’re about to call me. But can we do this later? Right now, I need your help.>

1 note · View note

waveypedia · 6 years

Text

31. “I haven’t slept in ages.”

Fenton groaned, his eyes still closed, as he felt around for his loudly buzzing phone on his nightstand. Why... why was his phone buzzing? Who was calling so early in the morning? He didn’t have many friends, and the ones that did all knew he had work early in the morning. And M’ma wouldn’t call him - she would storm into his room, or wherever he was staying currently, and wake him up herself.

He rubbed his face and slowly forced his drooping eyelids to open. Everything was fuzzy for a moment, but the first thing he focused on was the brightly glowing numbers on his clock.

Fenton blinked. It took a moment for the numbers to come into focus and another for his brain to process them.

Wait. 3:27 am?

Who would be calling or texting him at this hour?

Now mildly annoyed, he hunted blindly for his phone. If this was all for some sort of sales call, he was going to be /so/ mad.

The phone had stopped buzzing, but Fenton still pressed the home button and screwed up his eyes against the brightness against the stark darkness of his nighttime room.

He frowned, struggling to read the three notifications glowing on his phone’s absurdly bright screen.

2 missed calls, and 1 text, all from the same person.

GYRO (3:22 am): brnig coffee to lab. black.

Fenton groaned and let his head crash down on the pillow, still swimming from the unfortunate wake up call (literally) and the bright lights still beaming behind his eyelids, a searing pain in his forehead. He was half tempted to stay in bed and ignore Gyro, but the fact that he would probably continue to bug him and that he was requesting black coffee at 3:30 in the morning forced Fenton out of bed.

Once he was clumsily dressed, he tiptoed downstairs as to not wake M’ma (but suspected she already knew everything, as usual) and hurried out to his car. His head still ached from the bright lights, and he was still half asleep, but he managed to make it to his M’ma’s favorite local coffee shop, grab a cup of black coffee and a scone (he really needed something for all his troubles), and then to the Money Bin.

Only once he was there did it occur to him that Gyro might be at home, and he didn’t know where his coworker lived. More annoyance set in, but he forced himself to stomp up to the bin and all the way down to the lab.

The doors opened with a *ding*, and Fenton was both annoyed and relieved to spot Gyro at his desk, three projects spread out around him. He was tinkering intently with something and didn’t look up until Fenton had nearly reached his desk.

“Ah, /there/ you are! You took forever!” the scientist announced, snatching the coffee out of Fenton’s hands.

Fenton leaned on the table, struggling to stay upright. “Gyro... you know it’s 3 am right...?” Exhaustion made him slur his words. He scowled and tried to right himself, but suddenly everything was swimming and the edges of the room were fading and Gyro was looking at him with a very out of character concerned expression so something was clearly wrong and-

—

SLUMP.

Gyro scowled at the unconscious Fenton curled on the floor. “Well. Duck. Why do all of my interns fail somehow at bringing me coffee? First they don’t even SEE Lil’ Bulb, and then Manny causes a paranormal activity conspiracy theory, and now Fenton faints. Come on!

He propped Fenton up on his chair and reached for the desk phone.

“Hello, Mr. McDuck? I have a coffee problem again...”

—

“Ye really need ta stop sending yer employees tae get coffee for ye at three am,” Scrooge lectured. “Actually, ye-“

“Shouldn’t be in the lab drinking coffee at three am, I know,” Gyro sighed. “But I don’t sleep. You know that.”

“Ye need sleep, Gyro. Ye need ta be able tae function. Ae am nae payin’ ye tae stumble around half asleep all day,” Scrooge shot back.

“I haven’t slept in ages, and I function fine,” Gyro snapped. “I just need my coffee.”

Scrooge raised his eyebrows. “Get it yerself.”

Gyro rolled his eyes. “You /know/ I can’t. You know what they call me!”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Aye, Sandwich Guy. What a horrible insult,” he replied sarcastically. “Ye sound like me deadbeat nephew.”

Gyro huffed and crossed his arms, staring straight ahead annoyedly. “Donald drinks too much coffee to forgo a coffee run for an insult.”

“Nae, Ae was talkin’ aboot Gladstone,” Scrooge affirmed. Gyro gave a small huff of understanding. “Besides, Ae have been called much, much worse,” he added more gently.

Gyro rolled his eyes. “How would that red nephew of yours, Fenton’s little mini-me, do on a coffee run?” he asked instead.

Scrooge chuckled. “He would tell ye tae go back to sleep.”

Gyro shrugged, annoyed. “He would.”

They rode in silence for a few moments before Launchpad turned around in the driver’s seat. “Hey, Dr. G, if you like coffee, there’s this great restaurant a couple blocks down called the Hamburger Hippo-“

“NO!!!” Scrooge and Gyro yelled in unison.

—

Fenton groaned and rubbed at his lights. Why were there so many bright lights?

Was Gyro testing something again? Wait why would he be at the lab.

Oh. The coffee.

Wait. He fell asleep?!

Fenton jerked awake with a gasp, kicking an unfamiliar blanket off of his legs. He frowned and glanced around the room, blinking.

He recognized the older style of decorating as McDuck Manor’s, and the chicken in the bed across from him as Gyro, but what really struck a still sleep-muddled Fenton as strange was the sun streaming in through the windows and pale curtains, and the time flashing on the alarm clock as 7:51.

Work started at 8. He was going to be late!

But here was Gyro, sleeping soundly for once, and he was in McDuck Manor.

Fenton’s brain whirred for another moment, weighing the options, before he sighed contently and relaxed back into the mattress and pillows. The last thing his brain registered before slipping into the soft respite of sleep was the softness and comfort of the mattress, the softest one he’d ever touched.

—

Scrooge shut the door to the guest room with a small, fond smile on his face. He turned around to face his housekeeper, watching him with an amused, knowing smile on her face. “I trust he went back to sleep?”

Scrooge nodded. “He’ll be out for a while. Be sure tae check on them while Ae am at work. Make sure they donnae leave their beds for another six hours.”

Beakley nodded. “I can manage that.” She started to step away, but then paused. “You know, sir, keep this up and you’ll have enough family to fill half of your mansion.”

Scrooge snorted. “Now that would be an achievement.”

He leaned against the wall and watched as Beakley walked away, humming quietly to herself. He could hear Gyro’s quiet snores and Fenton’s restless sleeping through the wall.

His smile grew wider.

/Maybe one day I’ll have enough family to fill all the guest rooms in my mansion. Now that would be a real achievement./

I didn’t expect to get this out today, but I finished all my work in math 45 minutes early and the sub let us use our phones when we were done. Also math is right before lunch, so I just cranked this out and then finished up the last section in band which is kinda chaos rn tbh.

Okay, so this turned more into Dad Scrooge than Fenton & Gyro, sorry. I hope you like Dad Scrooge!

Fenton is NOT a happy boy when he’s woken up early. It’s probably good he fainted before he could lecture Gyro, bc Fenton isn’t his boss and Gyro would blow up at him in a way that he can’t with Scrooge. They’d both say things they’d regret.

Ooh, you know what? THAT would be fun to write. *cackles evilly*

The Sandwich Guy bit is a reference to @fangirl530’s fanfic and our headcanon about Gyro avoiding Starbucks bc when they wrote his name down for coffee they were like “oh gyro like the sandwich!” and he was known as the Sandwich Guy, which he doesn’t like :P

Hope you like it @advisortotheadvisor! @cartoonlover233 yours should be out next, but I can only work on it at home since it’s on the computer :(

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales 2k17 #disney ducks #dt17 #ducktales reboot #dt #ducktales fanfiction #my fanfic #wavey writes #fenton crackshell-cabrera #fenton crackshell cabrera #gyro gearloose #scrooge mcduck #uncle scrooge #ducktales scrooge #bentina beakley #mrs beakley #requests

68 notes · View notes

persimmin · 5 years

Text

Day 3: Bugger Off!

With the microchips from The Curio Shop in tow, Nancy decided it was time to meet the locals of Strangerville, and more, find out how “strange” they really were. She had noticed a crash site behind the little kiosk she had visited the day before and had taken note to explore it later. Well, today was later. Dressed in desert chic, Ms. Drew poked around the wreckeage of the plane long enough to discover a secret door that led down to a hidden bunker. The man inside was taken by complete surprise when a charismatic 17 year old girl came knocking on his door but reluctantly let her in. Nancy talked to this crash landing survivor for hours and listened to his conspiracy ramblings about how the strange and tumultuous weather had caused him the misfortune of hitting down here in this zany ghost town. Was there any truth to these accusations? Only time would tell...

For good measure Nancy decided to microchip the man while she distracted him with a friendly hug (a sly move her beloved housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, from River Heights had taught her).

Nancy spent the rest of the day running around Strangerville and “accidentally” bumping into the local townsfolk in order to catch a quick chance to bug them. From military officials enjoying a cold drink at the rundown bar down the road to scientists stowing away in the library, Nancy worked tirelessly to lend an ear- in more ways than one.

As she was heading back to her cozy abode, she encountered another military personnel named Jessica who appeared to be afflicted by some abnormal behavior. Her eyes were wide and deranged, and her slack jaw formed an awful and unnerving smile. Nancy remembered encountering a man like this on her first day in this town, even now the thought of him made her shudder. Jessica’s limbs bent unnaturally and she was rambling in some foreign dialect about a mother in red who she, and those like her, now served. It was a good thing Nancy had an admiration for the peculiar, because this was just about as mad as it got.

Taking the opportunity to plant a microchip on the crazed individual, Nancy then irrationally and quite contrarily to Hannah’s teachings, slapped the woman across the face in hopes to shake her from this state. She didn’t stay around long enough to find out if it had worked. She needed a cold shower and a garden burger ASAP.

-🍅

#ts4 simblr #ts4 strangerville #ts4 lp #ts4 story #ts4 gameplay #ts4 #the sims 4 #strangerville #nancy drew #ts4 legacy #ts4cc

1 note · View note

myassbrokethefall · 6 years

Text

untitled rm9sbg93zxjz post-ep

rated: B for blobfish, R for robots, D for dreams and S for Scott.

So as I mentioned I watched the episode last night while Somewhat Drunk after a work party, and I could barely follow what was happening. It was like some crazy dream I had. I woke up this morning and it FELT like a crazy dream I had had. So I ran with that.

I'm looking forward to rewatching, but as of now I've watched it one time, while (as I mentioned) kinda drunk. So I've probably gotten a bunch of stuff wrong, which is fine because that's how a dream would be anyway. I'm sure it will all make perfect sense when I watch it again. Uh, maybe.

I wrote this in like three hours (for me, that is INSANELY fast), after drinking coffee, so adjust your expectations accordingly.

The friendly cacophony of the diner envelops them, comfortable, the two of them (as so often) alone together in a crowd. Mulder likes sitting at the counter, a habit left over from his lonelier days. You feel like you're part of the busy hum of life if you're drinking your coffee while plates pass by your head and orders are yelled out around you and someone is making pancakes three feet away.

Scully's phone chirps, and she looks down automatically. It's a push notification for something or other, telling her to drink water, or stretch, or pay her gas bill, or something. She frowns at it, and flips it over. Smartphone-era Scully, he has found, can be perfectly summed up by her habit of first programming her phone to remind her to do things all day and night, and then getting annoyed and refusing to do the things at least half the time.

Something about the exchange, however, lights something up in his brain. "Scully," he says. "I had the craziest dream last night. Whoa. I just remembered."

"Yeah?" She forks a bite of scrambled egg into her mouth. "What kind of dream?" She lifts an eyebrow at him. Gone, thankfully, are the days when they would have to flirt with each other while pretending that wasn't what they were doing, held back by a mutual terror that Crossing The Line would somehow prove disastrous. He doesn't miss those days. At all.

"Not that kind of dream, G-woman." He squints, trying to piece it all together. "I remember...a bunch of computers were after us."

"Computers were after us? Meaning what? Chasing us? Physically?"

"Well...we angered them somehow. The computers. Like...all of them, I guess."

"We ANGERED them? ...Like with that case we had at the office tower way back when?"

"Actually, yeah, kind of. God, that case was weird. I haven't thought of that in years. My subconscious must be thinking about it. Yeah, we...Well, in the first part we were at this sushi restaurant..."

"You and me?"

"Yeah, but it was empty. It was only us. And we couldn't talk for some reason, I think? I forget why. So we were eating our sushi. It came on a...one of those trays like on a conveyor belt. But they brought us the wrong thing. Remember the blobfish picture?"

She laughs. Scully had chanced to see a picture of a blobfish on the internet some months ago and he wasn't sure he had ever, in their years and years together, seen her laugh so hard. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, frankly, watching the outsizedly hysterical reaction of Dana Scully MD, his serious scientist partner, to a picture of a lumpy, slimy, theatrically frowning fish on the internet. He had brought it up at every opportunity for weeks, renamed the wireless network at the house Blobfish Cove, found a way to work a reference to it into a meeting with Skinner, once printed out a picture of it and left it on Scully’s pillow, and watched in utter delight as she got the helpless giggles every single time. (Even the Skinner time. He hadn't even asked, just looked wearily at some point behind their heads for a few seconds before sighing and continuing on.)

"Don't tell me the blobfish was in your dream!"

"It was!"

"You're just saying that because you want me to laugh."

"No, Scully, I swear. The restaurant served us the blobfish as part of our meal, and you thought it was hilarious." Just like now. She's giggling delicately even as he talks. "But we didn't want to eat it. You had some objection."

"Of course! I could never eat it." She cackles. "I love that thing. If ever there was something to prove that God has a sense of humor..." She shakes her head. Blobfish. Mulder sends God a mental high-five.

"So I tried to take it back to the kitchen, but I couldn't find anybody. There was literally no one in the entire restaurant but us. Like no one even working there."

"Why were we at this restaurant?"

"I don't know, we were just there. It's a dream. Oh, I think maybe it was your birthday. But then later I remember it was June, so, I don't know. Anyway, we were leaving and I tried to pay at some payment machine and the machine asked me for a tip. And I got annoyed and I wouldn't tip it, because, it's a machine. You were scolding me about that."

"Which you probably dreamed because I was scolding you just the other day for that shitty tip you gave the pizza delivery guy." It’s an annoying habit of hers, every time he's told her about a cool dream he's had (which, to be fair, is kind of often): to immediately attempt to map every aspect of it onto a real-world cause, the more mundane the better. No respect for mystery or symbolism, Scully.

"Yes. Your scolding reached my subconscious, congratulations." She nods as if accepting a great honor. "So I was hitting 'no tip' on the thing, but then I couldn't get my credit card out. It was stuck. There was this whole part -- I think we got trapped in the restaurant?"

"With the blobfish?" Her eyes are crinkling happily.

"Yes, Scully, with the blobfish. I'm sorry the blobfish doesn't play an even more substantial part in this dream than it already does."

"I can't believe you dreamed that we were going to EAT the BLOBFISH."

"We weren't going to eat it! That was the whole point. We ordered it by accident or something but we didn't want to eat it."

"So we got trapped in the restaurant, then what?"

"Well, we went home, I guess, I forget how we got out but we did somehow, and you were gonna take a taxi to your apartment." He's pleased with himself for keeping his tone neutral when he mentions her apartment. Easier these days when she's spending more nights at the house than not, but still. "But there was no driver, it was like, one of those Google cars. And you didn't want to get in and you were about to argue with me but then you got in anyway, and the car took off like, EXTREMELY fast. I'm sure you were mad about that. And I don't blame you, because it was not safe. So I went home too -- "

"Did you also have a Google car?"

"No, I just drove home."

"Why didn't I just drive my car home?"

"I don't know. It's a DREAM, Scully. It's a dream where you didn't have your car with you for some reason and we also apparently lived in some near-future dystopia where we were imprisoned in a restaurant after being served a blobfish by robots." He pauses to watch her giggle. Never fails. "And after I got home I think I was trying to call my credit card company. Maybe it was something about my card getting stuck from the other part? I just remember this whole long part where I was on hold for a really long time."

"Probably because of that erroneous charge you had to call Citibank about last month, and you kept getting that horrible voicemail system."

"Yes. I'm sure it was from that. Anyway, I was on hold forever and I also had to keep calling back -- "

"Because of how the voicemail kept kicking you back to the beginning when you were calling Citibank."

"Scully. Yes, I'm sure that's why I dreamed about it. I didn't know you were paying that close attention. Anyway, it was annoying. And while I was doing that there were a bunch of drones chasing me."

"Drones?"

"Yeah, the little ones, like in the Olympics opening ceremony. In the house. They were on the stairs."

"How did drones get in the house?"

"I have no idea, but then I got worried about you for some reason and I guess I went to your place. And Scully, I got to your place and it was insane. It was like, some crazy executive suite or something. Or a super posh hotel. All modern and, you know, like designer-y. And you were mad when I got there because I guess I had sent you a Roomba? Like I ordered it for you as a joke and you were mad because you thought I was insinuating something about your housekeeping."

"You ordered me a Roomba?"

"Yeah, but when you opened it it chased your vibrator."

She looks delightfully flabbergasted. "Mulder!"

"It was trying to vacuum up your vibrator. That little pink one." He likes that one. Because she likes that one. "But your vibrator -- "

"Mulder, PLEASE stop saying 'vibrator' in a restaurant."

"It had somehow come to life. I don't know how."

"You mean it came to life beyond the act of," she coughs lightly, "vibrating?"

"I think so. It had a malevolent intelligence. I guess. So I guess the Roomba was trying to stop it? I don't know. And, it was some kind of off-brand Roomba because I remember you saying, why didn't you just get the Roomba brand, and I had no answer. I don't know why I ordered you an off-brand Roomba."

"You were probably being cheap."

"Probably."

"So which one was malevolently intelligent? The Roomba? Or the, the other thing?"

"I don't know. The Roomba was trying to mow down the vibrator. Maybe it was a 'the enemy of my enemy' situation. Anyway, Scully, this apartment, this place was a palace. I wish in real life you could hook us up with a place like that that government employees could afford. You obviously had some secret inside real-estate source. It was insane. You had this fancy fridge."

"Full of blobfish?" She smiles around her coffee cup.

"I didn't see inside it. Oh, but you had a note on your fridge to defrost chicken because Scott was coming over. Who is Scott, Scully?"

"My sexy marine-biologist slash realtor boyfriend. I didn't tell you about him?"

He forks her gently on the nose, causing her to jerk away like a surprised cat. She swipes at her nose, then licks her finger. It's real maple syrup, so she's got nothing to complain about.

"Well, Scott the world's leading blobfish authority slash real-estate virtuoso is gonna be disappointed when he comes over for chicken because then your apartment burned down."

"WHAT?" She steals a bite of his not-quite-finished pancakes. He knew she wouldn't be able to resist that maple syrup.

"Yeah, there was a gas fire or something. I forget how it happened, but then you and I were trying to escape and we did, I guess, and you still had your vibrator but then we had to throw it away because they were tracking us."

"Tracking us via my..." she drops her voice. "My vibrator? Mulder. This is a dream only you would have. Talk about paranoid fantasies that -- "

"ANYWAY, Scully, your luxurious apartment. Burned down. And we didn't even get to christen all the rooms. So we were running and we had to throw our phones away, and the vibrator, because it was tracking us. That was your idea, because you're smarter than I am even in my own dreams. So we threw it in a dumpster." She makes a disappointed noise. Scully loves that vibrator. God bless.

"It's OK, Scully, it was only a dream. So we were running away and we ended up in this, like...robot factory? Or something like that. Maybe a warehouse? But a bunch of robots started chasing us."

"It sounds like most of this dream is robots chasing us."

"It is. I've got some deep-rooted anxieties. So we were running around the robot factory, or whatever it was, and the robots were after us. But they were robot animals, kind of. Like a robo-dog, like -- "

"Like that Boston Dynamics video we saw?"

"I don't remember that."

"You were falling asleep on the couch when I showed you."

"Well, I guess I absorbed it on some level. Maybe that part happened before we threw out our stuff. I can't remember. You know how dreams are."

The waitress leans over with her coffee pot, a silent question, and Scully obligingly pushes the cup towards her. Mulder feels a warmth deep in his belly. She has nowhere to be right now, except here, with him. He nods at the waitress and she refills his mug as well.

"Can we have more half-and-half, please?" Scully asks, and the waitress nods and takes the little pitcher to refill. She loves her half-and-half. Sensual pleasures, his Scully.

"So then what happened?"

"Well, then at some point I realized, somehow, that the reason this was all happening was that I didn't tip at the sushi restaurant."

"You disrespected the blobfish, you mean?"

"Yes. I disrespected the blobfish, or the blobfish's, I guess, robot masters, and they summoned all their connected, artificial will to come after us. And they almost succeeded. We almost DIED, Scully."

"Because you cheaped out."

"Yes. You were right all along. We almost died because I was too cheap, plus you lost your amazing apartment. Before I had a chance to defile it with you."

"I'm dying to know where this apartment was and how I afforded it."

"It was in some leafy suburb. I remember all the trees."

"Good thing I had driverless robot cars to take me to and from work, then. So did you finally cough up the tip?"

"Yeah, and once I did all the computer stuff stopped chasing us. But then you were mad that you had thrown away your vibrator for nothing. And then I woke up."

"Well, I'm glad you finally got what's been coming to you as far as your unacceptable tipping habits."

"Tipping is for exceptional service, Scully! They got my order wrong! And they were robots!"

"That's such an upper-class thing to say. You know servers don't make a living wage without tips. It's part of the cost of eating at a restaurant and if you can't pay it, you shouldn't eat there."

"ROBOTS, Scully. They don't need a living wage. They're not alive."

"Also, what does you throwing away my vibrator mean? That's got to have some kind of meaning, Profiling Wonderboy Mulder."

"You threw it away. And burned your own apartment down. Accidentally, but still." The waitress is back with the half-and-half, which Scully pours liberally into her refilled coffee.

"Why, though? What does it mean?"

"Well, I think it means that my subconscious wants you to come home. But so does the rest of me, so, I already knew that."

There's a little silence. Scully sips her coffee. Her face-down phone chimes softly again. She ignores it.

"Drones...in the house, Mulder?"

"Yeah. You know what I just realized they reminded me of? Those little green flying bugs. Do you remember? It was one of our first cases. Way back when."

"God. Of course I remember. We were in quarantine for two weeks."

"Yeah. They reminded me of those. I got the willies when I saw them on the Olympics thing and now I know why. They were purple though, not green. In my dream."

"You told me, as I recall, that it would be a nice trip to the forest."

"I probably did."

"It was NOT a nice trip to the forest, Mulder."

"I, honestly, Scully, I probably would have said anything to get you to come with me. Even then."

She shakes her head at him. They sit in companionable silence for a bit, the human noise of the diner around them.

"It would be a lot of trouble to find a new apartment, if I were to burn the current one down, due to evil sentient robots," she muses, after a time. "Probably more trouble than it would be worth."

"Probably."

"Since I don't have a Scott, in real life, to find me one."

"Shame."

"Not to mention that I could save on rent and protect you from scary drones at the same time."

His stomach flutters a bit. They have talked about this, sort of, in a roundabout way, but he hasn't wanted to ask too often, or too insistently. Scully doesn't like to be pushed. By him, by a phone that she had instructed to remind her about things, by anyone.

"Plus, no place would live up to that apartment," he says. "No place you could find in the city at least. Or anywhere, really. Unless like, maybe on a billionaire's private island or something."

"But then the commute would be hell. Even with a recklessly driving driverless car. Or boat, I guess."

"Is Scott also a billionaire, by any chance?"

"Scott can barely pay his own rent. And I think he's just with me for the free meals."

"Scott," he says, with a joking disgust that is not entirely forced. "God. Well. If that ever happens, Scully. You know the way back."

"It would be even worse if I lost my favorite vibrator at the same time." She's lowered her voice, he knows, so the entire diner won't overhear them, but he enjoys the effect anyway.

"You know I'm always willing to pinch-hit for your little pink buddy." He drops his voice to match hers. She touches her tongue to the side of her lip in that way that drives him crazy, then takes another gulp of her coffee.

"Or, you know. You don't HAVE to wait for it to burn down."

"True."

"There's room in that drawer next to the bed for Scully's little helper."

"Mulder...enough."

"I'm just saying."

She reaches over and rests her hand on his, warm from the coffee cup, lacing their fingers together, then leans her head into his shoulder. It's another reason he likes sitting at the counter. Being next to her, a very good reason.

"Got time for a walk around the park after this?" he asks. "Work off breakfast, get some extra steps in?"

"Sure," she says, giving his hand a squeeze. "There's nowhere else I need to be."

When they leave, he makes sure to tip the waitress well.

"Blobfish," he says in Scully’s ear on their way out the door, and she dissolves into giggles.

#fanfic #mine #whew now i can finally catch up on tumblr #rm9sbg93zxjz

266 notes · View notes

mortalspark-blog · 6 years

Text

“I have given my word that only death will take me from you.”

nicholas, as mentioned several times before, was frederick’s older brother and only other sibling. he was five years older than frederick but in spite of their age difference they were absolutely close. if they weren’t so visibly of a different age, people could have thought they were twin brothers. but with their parents constantly busy, especially their father, and their mother not caring as much about her sons as much as she cared about what place they have in the family at large, they early found only themselves to rely on and to trust. frederick was not particularly introverted from the get-go, but he was very drawn into himself as a child. brilliant, yes, but unwilling to share it openly with others. his brother was the exception. nicholas could read frederick like a book, knew everything about him and was the only that got him out of his shell. as children that meant to get frederick’s nose out of his books and to throw mud at him in the rain until they both had stains of grass and rain and mud on their too nicely-pressed clothes. once they were older and teenagers that meant that frederick never showed fear to anybody but nicholas and that no one could taunt or tease him like nicholas. ( yes, frederick still got a little mad, but forgiving happened in seconds ). and it was the same for nicholas despite being the older brother. he never talked down on frederick, never underestimated him and, most of all, he protected him. nicholas looked out for frederick, always put frederick’s safety and well-being before his and every day before bed made sure that his brother was alright, hugged frederick tightly to make sure they’re both still there for each other, before he went to bed himself. they had an unparalleled trust between them, one that frederick would never find anywhere else again. for frederick nicholas was the essence of family, the centre of his family and his world. he was frederick’s role-model and hero and best friend.

when frederick was fifteen and nicholas was twenty the first world war was in its height and of course nicholas got drafted. he was young, he had the physical condition to serve and unlike their father, who was too important as a scientist himself to be drafted, was the only one who got the letter anyway. it ripped frederick apart to know his brother would be leaving him to fight for - what, exactly? nicholas said he does it for frederick, for him to grow up safely. “somebody has to protect you, kiddo, and that someone has always been me. why should it be any different now?” nicholas doesn’t promise that he’ll come back and frederick realises that in the middle of nicholas saying goodbye. it shouldn’t be a shock when over a year later there’s a knock on the door because a letter would have taken too long. frederick is the first person to know about nicholas’s death along with their housekeeper because no one else is at home. he doesn’t cry. he breaks down and he screams and he doesn’t let anyone touch him, doesn’t want to be touched by anyone reassuringly or in comfort, when the only person who ever cared enough about him to comfort him was nicholas. it is from that time period shortly after he gets the news that frederick starts to resent and fear touch with a vigorous passion.

the funeral happens without a body, an empty casket mocking frederick whenever his gaze drifts to the wooden box. his mother cries and his father holds her tightly in the tiny church and all he can do is stand there, numb and void of anything but the crushing pain of how real it is that nicholas is gone; truly gone; and he will never come back to tease his little brother for his obsession with the medical books he reads instead of going out to dance. he will never hug frederick tightly and tell him it will be alright. never again. the shattered glass window ( some blasphemous kids ) is there to his left and no one looks at him and it is easy to hide himself away in the shadows of the last benches and drive its broken shards into the skin beneath his suit until he draws blood. until he doesn’t think about crying anymore. it is a first step into a desperate attempt to cope with his loss. he feels like drowning, his mind’s capability to running a mile a minute reminding him of the memories he made with nicholas, and he can’t live with that, can’t work with that. so, he distracts himself, first in harmful ways, to the point where he entertains the thought to follow suit. what does it matter anyway when he is alone now? when no one cares, when there is no one and nothing to care about. he is numb. he doesn’t want to feel his grief, so he wants to be numb. until his family notices it ( not his family, no, their housekeeper again, a nice woman he’s known all his life better than his own mother ) and they send him to seek psychiatric help. ( not that anyone ever finds out about it, no one does ). frederick seeks the treatment until he is twenty-two and releases himself of therapy. at this point, frederick was already haphephobic to an untreatable extent, a grief-educed depression and obsession with matters of life and death driven into him. he also became an adamant pacifist because of the circumstances of nicholas’s death in battle and therefor the war taking the one person frederick genuinely cared about from him.

nicholas’s death was the only topic at social gatherings, the mourning of a family’s well-known first born bound to be a ground for gossip and condolences. frederick escaped it once he made it to yale, putting everything he has into his education and his work, obsessed with becoming a doctor, a brain surgeon at that as well ( look into other people’s heads to ignore what is going on in his own ), and most curious with his family’s history of science. the torments of his classmates were more focused on his resemblance to his grandfather than the death of his brother. good, let them. any focus away from nicholas was what he needed, what he wanted. for himself and his family. some people didn’t even know he had a brother in the first place. suddenly the name ‘frankenstein’ started to stand for something else again than a death in combat. it was wildly mocked but also wildly praised the higher he climbed and the further his reputation got him through and after medical school. ‘frankenstein’ wasn’t about nicholas anymore, it was about frederick. and about their grand-father, but that was a case frederick could take on. this was something frederick could change people’s minds on. he was powerless in regards to nicholas and his legacy but this, the name they shared and that was still the joke of society, was something he could have a hand in. thus was frederick’s determination to clean up the reputation of his family. let them be more than a dead son and a mad grand-father. let them be something else. let people forget about nicholas, someone they never knew, and let him reside in the confines of frederick’s heart in mind, where was known and respected and loved. where no one talked about him like he was nothing more but a tin soldier.

the older frederick got, the more closed off he became. soon, there were only hushed whispers at the parties he attended or the conferences he visited. ( ‘wasn’t there something with a brother ?’ ‘- oh no, you must be mistaken. i never heard he had a brother.’ ) there were people who never even knew him as more than the mad doctor with a brilliant reputation, the dean of new york’s most prestigious medical school. he even met a woman who never knew more of him than the parts of himself he dared to show; elizabeth never heard him say nicholas’ name out loud. she never knew he existed. to her, frederick was a full person and not the half of a done deal, and that was alright. it was what he wanted. he didn’t love her, or want her to pry, but he wanted the immunity and anonymity she granted him with her obliviousness. and the talk about them squashed any last evidence of the past only frederick thought himself to be allowed to cling to. there is so much evidence of who nicholas was and who nicholas was to him and most of it was even visible to anyone, manifested in his manners and his acts, but no one knew the source for it. no one but him. and that’s how it has always been with him and nicholas. no one knew them but them. because someone has to protect nicholas and that has always been frederick, no matter the expenses. so, why should it be any different now?

#the most important meta on this blog #tw: death #tw: death mention #tw: self harm #tw: self destruction #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: neglect #tw: depression #tw: self abuse #tw: medical #( a bit )#tw: grief #i think i covered all the basis here .#listen; this is not happy i made myself cry just writing this down .#also for anyone who always wondered about the impact of nicholas and frederick's relationship with him in general #「 you’re just another story I can’t tell anymore.」⇢ nicholas.#「 join the family business 」⇢ headcanon.

6 notes · View notes