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rainbowfic2015-10-20 11:41 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-10-20 11:41 pm
Entry tags:
Prism 9
Name: starphotographs
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Rainbow color for October)
Characters: Frankie (POV), Satchel
Colors: Prism 9 (white)
Word Count: 1,100ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Scary campfire stories, Lennox style.
Note: Ack, posting this back-to-back with the last one is so awkward! But I’ve had this one planned for longer, and didn’t realize one of the motifs was so similar until I was editing both stories. I got the idea for this one from this!: http://danaterrace.tumblr.com/post/126887011775/from-a-dream-fun-fact-i-got-my-first-nose-bleed
Frankie Unwraps
“...You know, I had a really bizarre dream last night. I mean, I guess not that bizarre. But it was weird.”
“Mmm…”
Satchel wasn’t paying attention. He was trying to start a bonfire with a box of matches, a can of lighter fluid, and a box of old copy paper he dragged out of a closet. And some gross logs we found, but the box has to catch before they do, I guess. I don’t really know anything about starting fires. The only time I ever really tried was when I accidentally missed trash day and just decided to burn everything. I ended up calling it quits because I ran out of matches and a neighbor threatened to call the cops.
“You didn’t even hear anything I said!”
I tried to kick him, but my leg wasn’t long enough. He struck a match and threw it on the soggy pile.
“Dream. Real weird.”
The pile ignited so hard it pretty much exploded. Satchel didn’t say anything, so I was kind of scared he got his face burned off.
“...You alright?”
He started to turn around. I cringed against whatever I was about to see.
“Yeah I’m good… Anyway! We have achieved burnage! What’s this about a dream?”
I watched him, and his normal, non-melted face, sit back down and grab a beer, then stared at him until he passed me one.
“Thanks… Okay, so I got called back to this hospital…”
“So, basically, like your version of a didn’t-actually-graduate nightmare?”
Holy shit, it was. Satchel always notices that kind of thing. Either he’s a genius, or I’m an idiot. To hear a lot of people tell it, it’s actually both, so whatever. If I wanted to change people’s opinions, I’d start telling people about the time he tried to roll down a hill in a too-small tire and got stuck in it for a whole afternoon.
“...Exactly! What happened was, they… Actually, I have no idea... Didn’t get my whole gallbladder, or failed to tell me they grow back, or… I don’t know. Something with the gallbladder thing.”
He swallowed about half a can of beer at once, then laughed.
“Did they like, want that jar of stones you keep in your closet back?”
Fuck, they probably do! Like, in real life. Shit.
“No, it wasn’t like that… I remember I was getting ready to have surgery. So like… You know, I was waiting in the bed like they have you do. I remember they gave me food, but it was all different things in these really loud mylar wrappers. Like, there was a sandwich wrapped up so it just looked like a shiny triangle with ‘sandwich’ printed all over it or something, and then there was this cookie in a…”
It was actually really obnoxious. I never want to eat in the hospital, which was probably the problem, because I guess I’d been there long enough that I needed to eat something soon or I’d die or whatever. But, everything was in this crinkly wrapper that I had to open with my teeth. I kept asking for scissors, but everyone ignored me.
“...Franks. Get to the point. Unless this was just a dream about individually-wrapped hospital food, in which case, you’re done… Should I smash this can on my head?”
I looked at the can. It looked hard, but so’s his head, so it would probably be okay.
“Sure, knock yourself out… I mean, don’t actually do that, I mean-”
Satchel smacked the can against his head a few times, got bored, and chucked it in the fire.
“Dude, just finish your fuckin’ story.”
I took a break to reconstruct the dream in my mind, and finish my beer.
“Okay… The food part, you know about… Anyway, I was on oxygen, which is kind of semi-normal, so I don’t think I thought anything of it… But like, then I had to piss, so I had to disconnect myself. Not sure why that was so, because it’s not like that at home, but maybe I was plugged right into the wall or somethin’... Like the air might have been from the HVAC system or whatever? Not sure. Well, then…”
“...Then you disconnected yourself and took a piss.”
Dammit, I’m losing him! He looked more interested in trying to flip a log with a long metal file, which he’d apparently produced out of the aether. Satchel had always been able to do shit like that. It kind of creeped me out.
“...See, that’s the thing! I tried to disconnect myself, but it was really in there good. I thought it was taped to my nose or something, but there wasn’t any tape. The tubes were just like… Deep. And I think they had something going on kind of like those spikes you can’t back over… Remember when you did that at the trash bill place and got in a big fight? I do. I was there! Anyway! These tubes were stuck in my nose, and I just kept pulling, and they just kept coming. And I think at this point, they were like, fused to my insides, because… Dude. I was bleedin’ all over the place. Like, I was in one of those shitty paper gowns, and it was white or whatever, but before I realized what I was doing, the whole thing was just… Red. I was a mess. And I got in trouble for wrecking the tubes or whatever. Then I woke up.”
Satchel belched. I tried to punch him, but his reflexes are pretty good. Instead, I fell on my face. He was laughing at me, but he helped me up, so I didn’t care.
“So like… Where was I?”
I picked a few leaves out of my hair.
“...I have no idea! I think I yelled at them that I was going to call you when they were mad at me for pulling out the tubes. Wait… Does that mean it was against the law?”
He thought about this for a few seconds, then cracked another beer.
“Nah. They couldn’t make you keep a tube in your nose without violating like, a buttload of medical consent laws. I mean, they could make you pay for the tube if you broke it or something, but if you took them to court over it, you’d make up the difference and more.”
Thanks for not showing up in my dream, jackass.
“You think so?”
He belched again, then poked at the burning can.
“Hell yeah! Also, if this turns out to be a recurring dream, you owe me some of that money.”
“But it’d be, like, dream money. I don’t think you could do anything with it.”
Satchel thought about this, then shrugged.
“No shit, but it’s a matter of principle.”
Somehow, I knew he would say that.
starphotographs Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Rainbow color for October)
Characters: Frankie (POV), Satchel
Colors: Prism 9 (white)
Word Count: 1,100ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Scary campfire stories, Lennox style.
Note: Ack, posting this back-to-back with the last one is so awkward! But I’ve had this one planned for longer, and didn’t realize one of the motifs was so similar until I was editing both stories. I got the idea for this one from this!: http://danaterrace.tumblr.com/post/126887011775/from-a-dream-fun-fact-i-got-my-first-nose-bleed
“...You know, I had a really bizarre dream last night. I mean, I guess not that bizarre. But it was weird.”
“Mmm…”
Satchel wasn’t paying attention. He was trying to start a bonfire with a box of matches, a can of lighter fluid, and a box of old copy paper he dragged out of a closet. And some gross logs we found, but the box has to catch before they do, I guess. I don’t really know anything about starting fires. The only time I ever really tried was when I accidentally missed trash day and just decided to burn everything. I ended up calling it quits because I ran out of matches and a neighbor threatened to call the cops.
“You didn’t even hear anything I said!”
I tried to kick him, but my leg wasn’t long enough. He struck a match and threw it on the soggy pile.
“Dream. Real weird.”
The pile ignited so hard it pretty much exploded. Satchel didn’t say anything, so I was kind of scared he got his face burned off.
“...You alright?”
He started to turn around. I cringed against whatever I was about to see.
“Yeah I’m good… Anyway! We have achieved burnage! What’s this about a dream?”
I watched him, and his normal, non-melted face, sit back down and grab a beer, then stared at him until he passed me one.
“Thanks… Okay, so I got called back to this hospital…”
“So, basically, like your version of a didn’t-actually-graduate nightmare?”
Holy shit, it was. Satchel always notices that kind of thing. Either he’s a genius, or I’m an idiot. To hear a lot of people tell it, it’s actually both, so whatever. If I wanted to change people’s opinions, I’d start telling people about the time he tried to roll down a hill in a too-small tire and got stuck in it for a whole afternoon.
“...Exactly! What happened was, they… Actually, I have no idea... Didn’t get my whole gallbladder, or failed to tell me they grow back, or… I don’t know. Something with the gallbladder thing.”
He swallowed about half a can of beer at once, then laughed.
“Did they like, want that jar of stones you keep in your closet back?”
Fuck, they probably do! Like, in real life. Shit.
“No, it wasn’t like that… I remember I was getting ready to have surgery. So like… You know, I was waiting in the bed like they have you do. I remember they gave me food, but it was all different things in these really loud mylar wrappers. Like, there was a sandwich wrapped up so it just looked like a shiny triangle with ‘sandwich’ printed all over it or something, and then there was this cookie in a…”
It was actually really obnoxious. I never want to eat in the hospital, which was probably the problem, because I guess I’d been there long enough that I needed to eat something soon or I’d die or whatever. But, everything was in this crinkly wrapper that I had to open with my teeth. I kept asking for scissors, but everyone ignored me.
“...Franks. Get to the point. Unless this was just a dream about individually-wrapped hospital food, in which case, you’re done… Should I smash this can on my head?”
I looked at the can. It looked hard, but so’s his head, so it would probably be okay.
“Sure, knock yourself out… I mean, don’t actually do that, I mean-”
Satchel smacked the can against his head a few times, got bored, and chucked it in the fire.
“Dude, just finish your fuckin’ story.”
I took a break to reconstruct the dream in my mind, and finish my beer.
“Okay… The food part, you know about… Anyway, I was on oxygen, which is kind of semi-normal, so I don’t think I thought anything of it… But like, then I had to piss, so I had to disconnect myself. Not sure why that was so, because it’s not like that at home, but maybe I was plugged right into the wall or somethin’... Like the air might have been from the HVAC system or whatever? Not sure. Well, then…”
“...Then you disconnected yourself and took a piss.”
Dammit, I’m losing him! He looked more interested in trying to flip a log with a long metal file, which he’d apparently produced out of the aether. Satchel had always been able to do shit like that. It kind of creeped me out.
“...See, that’s the thing! I tried to disconnect myself, but it was really in there good. I thought it was taped to my nose or something, but there wasn’t any tape. The tubes were just like… Deep. And I think they had something going on kind of like those spikes you can’t back over… Remember when you did that at the trash bill place and got in a big fight? I do. I was there! Anyway! These tubes were stuck in my nose, and I just kept pulling, and they just kept coming. And I think at this point, they were like, fused to my insides, because… Dude. I was bleedin’ all over the place. Like, I was in one of those shitty paper gowns, and it was white or whatever, but before I realized what I was doing, the whole thing was just… Red. I was a mess. And I got in trouble for wrecking the tubes or whatever. Then I woke up.”
Satchel belched. I tried to punch him, but his reflexes are pretty good. Instead, I fell on my face. He was laughing at me, but he helped me up, so I didn’t care.
“So like… Where was I?”
I picked a few leaves out of my hair.
“...I have no idea! I think I yelled at them that I was going to call you when they were mad at me for pulling out the tubes. Wait… Does that mean it was against the law?”
He thought about this for a few seconds, then cracked another beer.
“Nah. They couldn’t make you keep a tube in your nose without violating like, a buttload of medical consent laws. I mean, they could make you pay for the tube if you broke it or something, but if you took them to court over it, you’d make up the difference and more.”
Thanks for not showing up in my dream, jackass.
“You think so?”
He belched again, then poked at the burning can.
“Hell yeah! Also, if this turns out to be a recurring dream, you owe me some of that money.”
“But it’d be, like, dream money. I don’t think you could do anything with it.”
Satchel thought about this, then shrugged.
“No shit, but it’s a matter of principle.”
Somehow, I knew he would say that.