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darkness_everlasting2013-11-15 08:41 pm
hewantstheb) wrote in darkness_everlasting2013-11-15 08:41 pm
ALL RIGHT ALL RIGHT ALL RIGHT
IMMA POST THIS MEME OKAY? OKAY.
They saw you die. They attended your funeral, put flowers on your grave. They were absolutely certain that you were dead. Only suddenly, here you are.
Now what do you do?
Situations:
bakerstreet BUT I THOUGHT WE COULD DO THIS HERE INSTEAD.
THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL YOU GET. I'M OUTTA HERE.
They saw you die. They attended your funeral, put flowers on your grave. They were absolutely certain that you were dead. Only suddenly, here you are.
Now what do you do?
Situations:
- Took Longer That I Thought: Maybe you got lost or stranded on a dessert island, or kidnapped by pirates. But whatever the case, you’re back now! Only everyone’s acting like you’re a ghost...
- Amnesia: You took a blow to the head and lost your identity. Now, you remember, and are going back to your old life. Of course, others have moved on with their lives.
- Sleeping Beauty: It might have been magic or the best of modern technology, but you were put into a deep sleep until some future time. Unfortunately, not many people were in on this plan.
- Only Mostly Dead: Maybe you got bitten by a giant spider, or maybe you were apparently killed on a hostile planet. Either way, they had to leave your ‘body’ behind. Except you weren’t as dead as they thought.
- Faked It: For whatever reason, you faked your own death. Have fun explaining that to your loved ones.
- Back From the Dead: It might be a deity or super-advanced aliens, but something or someone resurrected you. What was being dead like?
- Mix and match or make up your own!
bakerstreet BUT I THOUGHT WE COULD DO THIS HERE INSTEAD.THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL YOU GET. I'M OUTTA HERE.
RABBIT
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No matter how many times The Spine tried to patiently explain it, no matter how many long conversations took place, where the younger bot seemed to get it...
He was always back to the questioning.
'When's Rabbit comin' back?'
'Where'd he go?'
'Was it somethin' I did?'
Even with a grave to point out, a headstone spelling out reality, well The Jon had always been good at shirking reality for his void-dreams, wasn't he? It wasn't so much different here, the brassold bot shuffling finally towards the headstone that marked what he'd been told was his eldest brother's final resting place, a brightly printed plastic package clutched carefully in his skinny hands.]
Hiya Rabbit. I know you're probably really busy on your super-awesome pirate adventures being the bestest captain and all... [He trailed off as he imagined just what sort of adventures Rabbit was on, the people he probably was meeting...
Wait, back to business.]
I dun wanna be a ol' muddy stick but we miss you. I know Th'Spine says he's okay but his colors are all sad an' so are everyone else's. So... d'you think you can come home soon? I've got a pack of oreos for you an' everything, and I won't even ask for one, you can eat em all yourself! [He set the package down, thin fingers curling over the striped fabric of his pants, as he let out a low unhappy sigh.]
Just come home, okay?
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How had Rabbit returned? Why wasn't he in his grave and offline? Well honestly, did it really even matter at this point?]
no subject
Not that the titanium bot would mind in this case, but he wasn't here now was he? Just The Jon, who didn't even need to look back and check before he was twisting around to launch himself to tackle his older brother in the biggest, tightest, most bear-like bearhug ever, unable to contain the absolute delight he felt at Rabbit's sudden return.]
Rabbit! Rabbit you're back!
YOU AND YOUR DAMNED COOKIES
It hadn't worked, of course. In the end, nothing had. He hadn't just failed, he'd failed Rabbit, along with the entire family, and lost a de-facto uncle in the process. After the burial, Peter had withdrawn into himself even further, rarely leaving his bedroom apart from visits to the family graveyard like this one. He'd been spending a lot of time there, lately. After all, he thought to himself as he tossed a handful of bread crumbs to the grass, somebody has to keep feeding the ducks.
He just wished that it didn't feel like Peter Walter the First's grave was glaring at him.]
DON'T BE HATIN' THEY WERE WORTH THE TEARS
Thankfully for him, the 'bot didn't need to breathe and certainly possessed some amount of inhuman strength within that metal frame of his, so it wouldn't take too long before the ground was shifting, the dirt of Rabbit's grave trembling before a claw-like skeletal hand ripped right up through the ground.
Hello, Petey, I'm hooooome.]
TEARS OF PURE OREO FROSTING
Peter scrambled to the other end of the bench as that skeletal hand crunched out of the ground, and frantically tried to remember the password for the Walter Manor Anti-Undead Uprising Defensive Crispy-Fried Laser System (it was a Monday, he hadn't been expecting a zombie apocalypse so early in the week). The sudden movement chased off several ducks, who took off in a flurry of feathers and squawking. That was one way to snap him out of a funk!
Except... except that the sunset was glinting off the edges of those claw-like fingers, and the hand was made of copper, not bone. That meant...]
No way... Oh my god. Oh my god! Rabbit?!
[No more talking, time for digging! Even if he's just digging with his hands for now. Given a few minutes, Peter would no doubt run to the nearest shed and grab a shovel.]
Walter Girl B
Spine
no subject
And no one was handling it well either. The Jon didn't quite seem to understand what had happened, no matter how many times someone tried to explain it to him. And Rabbit, well...considering the way things were going with the rest of the family, it was far too easy really for quiet Hatchworth to just slip through the cracks.
He didn't mind. He'd wanted to be alone. Just for a little bit.
Everyone had cottoned onto his place beneath the stairs a long time ago. So now he was in one of the Manor's lesser-used kitchens, curled up in the tight spot between the old stove and the wall. The room was small, though not quite tiny enough that the glow of his core lit up too much of that darkness. And, save for the sound of his own inner workings, it was quiet here. He could close his eyes and pretend.]
The Jon
...
...WHAT ARE WE TAGGING NOW? IT'S A HORSE ADVENTURE RIGHT?]
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Kiwi has all the maturity of a five year old oops
Puddin'
When two months had passed with no sign of the Clown Prince of Crime the reporters began to sit up and take notice. Evidence of his death was hashed and re-hashed until not a single scrap hadn't been combed over. The blood. The shredded glove. The clumps of dark green hair found in the industrial thresher--
Which was all very flattering, of course, but who watched the news these days? What he really wanted to know was how the wretched Batman was coping without the only ray of sunshine in his life. It was boring, lying low.
Naturally, his entrance had to be flashy.
Good morning, Gotham. Guess whose face is all over every single one of your television sets.]
Honey, I'm home~ Who missed me? [He cups his ear and leans forward theatrically.] Everyone? Gotham, I'm touched, really I am! It brings a tear to my eye and a song to my heart!
If you want to personally tell me how happy you are that I'm back, call the number scrolling across your screen! Our operators are just dying to hear from you!
[The camera pans left. Gagged telemarketers are bound to their seats. They won't... actually be answering any calls, but hey. That's part of the joke.]
Mein
It was some fifteen minutes after the initial broadcast that the backdoor to the studio slammed open and a slim, red-and-black clad figure slipped inside, the prone form of two fat guards left laying on the ground behind her, a familiar oversized mallet held at the woman's side as she hurried across the studio floor.] You!
[Oh dear. A not-quite-so joyous reunion for the lovers?] Two whole months an' nuthin'! Not a single word--[For such a tiny figure, all curves and skinny limbs, the jester was quite formidable with her weapon, swinging it around with two hands and knocking one of the lighting rigs to the floor where it smashed into pieces.] Ya didn't call! [And there goes a very expensive looking camera. Good thing the studio has extras!] Ya didn't write... [Some grease-faced lackey that was twice her size was so very easily knocked aside before Harley turned her scowl upon the man of the hour, mallet held at the ready.] Nuthin'! Just leave poor, lil' Harley in th' dark over whether yer really dead or not!
[Another two steps closer, her steps silent as blue eyes were piercing holes right through the Prince of Crime.] Well? What d'ya got t' say for yerself?
ಠ_ಠ what have I said about bashing the hired help
CRASH.
Oh, well. She could smash the scenery all she wanted, it was no skin off his nose. However, it might be skin off his nose (and possibly bone, too) in a minute if he wasn't careful. His smile returned as he flapped a hand urgently at the goon behind the still-broadcasting camera in the room, his other hand diving into his pocket.] Cut the feed, idiot! [Ah, there was the joy buzzer.] Eh... surprise! Pretty good disappearing act, don't you think?
Do it with a big ol' smiiiiile?
The much tinier figure sashayed forward, curve hips swinging as that giant mallet was trailing behind the woman as she approached the clown. It seemed almost impossible the way the woman could wield that thing with one hand so deftly, but that loving gift of sweet toxins from Ivy had certainly given Harley quite the upgrade in strength and dexterity.]
Pretty good? [Her voice hitching up into an annoying, shrill yell with each step advancing step towards The Joker, lithe body hunching forward as if she was a cat on the prowl, free hand curled into a tiny black fist--] Pretty good?! Two months gone and that's all ya have t' say t' me?!
[Oh dear, out came that mallet again, the woman expertly using her entire body to swing the oversized weapon at the man, missing his chest (purposely?) by a few--very short--inches.] I'll show you a good disappearin' act, Joker! C'mere an' see th' surprise I've been keepin' just for you.
Uh-huuuuuuh
He held up a hand, ostensibly calling for peace, while the buzzer was palmed and his armed hand was kept behind his back.
Of course, in this case he had other weapons at his disposal, like a big, winsome smile and a saccharine tone.]
Now, I can see you're upset, but it hurt me too, you know! If I could have taken you with me, I would have! Really! But it had to look real, you understand, don't you Pumpkin Pie?
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But, unsurprisingly to all the readers at home, the harlequin couldn't resist her psychopathic boyfriend's oozing charm, so the mallet went flying carelessly behind her, no doubt 'accidentally' colliding with some unfortunate goon's head, as Harley was dashing forward to toss herself at Joker, arms and legs wrapping around him, head snuggling up affectionately just under his chin, like a very strange, oversized, and oddly clingy cat.]
Okay okay! Ya always know just what t' say, Mistah J! I forgive ya! [Like he cared.]
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Ugh. He suppressed a long-suffering sigh and patted Harley's cowled head, slipping the buzzer back into his pocket while she was distracted. No need for that. Using it would've been mildly regrettable, anyway--not that he'd missed his number one hench girl or anything. Perish the thought.]
That's all I ask, Poo--
[Like so many things, he found himself putting up with her affection with grace and good humor--aka attempting to free himself with a well-placed push and shoving an oversized gun into her hands to keep her occupied. What could he say, he just wasn't really the cuddling type.]
--Now, be a dear and hold that to someone's head, would you? Daddy has work to do.
[Like murdering each and every person that witnessed their little lover's quarrel, for starters.]
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Shore thing, Puddin'! [And with a grace of a Olympian-level gymnast, Harley was flipping and bouncing and cartwheeling to whatever poor sucker was going to feel the press of a cold barrel to their head, the former-psychiatrist blowing her darling a cheesy kiss from far away. Go and make mama proud, honey!]