Alan Rickman as Harry “Love Actually”, Alex Hughes “Snow Cake”, Franz Anton Mesmer “Mesmer”, Colonel Brandon “Sense and Sensibility”, Sheriff of Nottingham “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves”, The Interrogator “Closet Land”,
“An Awfully Big Adventure”, David Weinberg “Dark Harbor”, Judge Turpin
“Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street”
A group of level 1 half-human half-animal people (two meerkats, an owl, a vampire, a mouse that turned into a mouse-angel, a coyote and Satan) are trying to take over Heaven. A short wall separates us from Heaven.
Vampire: “I roll to cut through Heaven.” *rolls a 1*
DM: “…. You take out your sword and start sawing at the short wall, screaming ‘FITE ME!!!’”
Meerkat 2: “I roll to launch the TnT cake into Heaven.” *rolls a 3*
DM: “You launch the TnT cake into Heaven. It lands on an angel’s head and the wet cake extinguishes the fuse.”
Tranquil by Joe Penniston Via Flickr: I’m not going to lie, this is one of those pictures that every time I look at it, I wish to be back there. Of all the French Quarter pictures I took this is my favorite. I intentionally chose f/2.8 at 200mm to create a shallow depth of field. I hoped that it would make for a sort of dreamy like photo. Also, this is one of the many that I lost the RAW file and I remember choosing “shady” as the white balance as this scene was in fact in the shade. The colors seem a little on the warm side but I think, if nothing else, it gives the image an inviting feel. I had to wait a few minutes to make sure no one was in the image. At 200mm there is quite a bit of depth compression so this path is a lot longer than it looks!
I instantly fell in love with this resort… it is truly beautiful. I’m not good at writing reviews so hopefully my pictures (I have a few more good ones) do the talking.
*PLEASE CHECK IT OUT LARGE ON BLACK*
Disney’s Port Orleans French Quarter, Walt Disney World Resort
Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you’re having a Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah day!
Jason stared at his hand - brownish-red blood congealed on his palm - trying to make it feel real again. Static over the receiver in his helmet, then a familiar (and very tired) voice crackled over the headset.
“Jason, we need to talk.”
The world seemed to snap back into focus then. The brick wall against his back was rough and unforgiving. The bodies next to him stared lifelessly forward, blood pooled beneath them. Out on the street, the sound of sirens, laughter, screams. Just the normal sounds of the Gotham nightlife. Normal. Alive.
Jason pushed himself up, rocking forward on his feet slightly, his side stinging from where a lucky knife had managed to slip past his armor. “Sure thing, B,” he said, rolling his turquoise eyes a bit. No doubt he’d be treated to another self-righteous speech about how killing people was absolutely never the answer.
Honestly, why shouldn’t I tell him? The internal dialogue started up again. Never something that would actually be resolved, Jason knew. Still, it was worth asking from time to time.
He walked to the end of the alley, out into a dimly lit street. Crime Alley was like a second home to him, ever since he could remember. The worst of humanity always seemed to end up here, no matter what. And I’m the worst of all.
Crossing the street, he walked swiftly over to a pile of rubbish, leaning up against a run-down apartment complex. Wrinkling his nose a bit at the smell, he dug down and found the tarp. With a swift yank he tugged the pile down, revealing his sleek, black motorcycle underneath. No way was anybody jacking his wheels.
He hopped on, smoothly switching it to life, and drove out, towards the Batcave. After all, at least Alfred would have some hot food waiting for him. Jason could stomach the lecture as long as Alfred’s cooking was involved too.
The manor was mostly dark when he got to it. Tim was frantically typing on the batcave computer, half a dozen cans of energy drinks lying empty around him. Curious, Jason read over the other boy’s narrow shoulders. Pipeline leaks.
Shrugging, Jason dropped his helmet onto the work table beside the monitor, then pulled off his jacket and haphazardly slapped a bandage onto his knife cut, before going over to the small sink to wash off the blood from his hands. Alfred would kill him for not doing proper first aid, but honestly, after dying what was the point really?
“Yo Tim, where’s B at?” Jason asked, causing the younger Robin to jump a bit in his seat.
“Upstairs. Pro’lly in the kitchen, scowling.”
Jason headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Not that he was looking forward to seeing Bruce, but he may as well get it over with.
Alfred was reading a book, the look on his face carefully intent. Bruce was sitting adjacent to him, a soft scowl darkening his features. There was a loaded hamburger on a plate across from him, and two slices of thick, dark, chocolate cake as well. Jason took a couple long strides and plopped down into the chair, grabbing one of the pieces of cake as he landed. Without a word he bit into it, savoring the moist flavors.
Bruce was staring at him.
Jason decided to continue eating.
Finally, with a classic Bruce sigh, the older man opened his mouth. “Jason, I know it’s been hard for you. But killing people is not something I can allow. Ever. We can go and talk with Canary. Get you some therapy. Whatever you need, but it has to stop.”
Jason paused in his chewing, studying the lines in Bruce’s face. Concern. Anger. Confusion. Typical. He resumed chewing, taking a sip of milk as he went.
“Jason, please, listen to reason.”
Jason almost laughed at that. As if Bruce could ever see real reason. But no, he was the messed up one. The prodigal son. Swallowing, Jason finally spoke. “Do you know, I’ve never killed someone who didn’t have it coming to them? It’s not like I went and killed the mayor or anything. Just scumbags. Maybe you should try it.” Getting up, he grabbed the burger and the other slice of cake, and left the kitchen, leaving Bruce - quiet once more - behind him.
His room was exactly the way it always was. Old pictures of his school days, hanging next to track medals and academic awards. Jason munched on his food as he looked at them. How long ago was it? He almost couldn’t remember. That boy in the pictures lived a different life. That boy was Robin, he had magic.
Jason was just himself. Alone.
Closing his eyes he sat down on his bed, letting his mind drift. It always took him back a bit. The warmth of it all. It was how home felt. Not this mansion, or his apartment. Not with Roy and Kori, or anybody else. Those were just pale substitutes.
A wet drop landed on his hand. Crying, again. Dammit. He was better than this. It’s not like he could go back, or change the past. Jason knew he didn’t belong there, anymore than he belonged in his old room.
There was a light tap on the door, before Bruce looked in, seeming a bit unsure of himself. Jason was quick to wipe away the tears, and motioned for the black-haired man to come in.
“Jason,” he started, then stopped, his brow furrowing a bit as he contemplated his son. “Jason, are you okay?”
That’s not what he was expecting.
Another tear escaped his eye, and Jason blinked it away, only for another, and yet another to come. He shook himself, trying to stop them.
Bruce sat down next to him. Gently, carefully, he placed a rough hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Jason, what is it?”
Jason couldn’t say later whether it was a moment of weakness that made him look up and meet those deep blue eyes or not.
“Bruce,” his voice cracked, “there… There was no pain.”
He looked down at his hands, silently cursing as his eyes continued to leak. “There was no fear, no doubt…”
Again, Jason looked into those hard eyes. “Till I was pulled out of…” A sob wracked through his body, and he closed his eyes against it, “Till I was pulled out of Heaven.”
A single moment passed, and Jason didn’t dare to open his eyes. then he felt his father’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close, holding him tight. His head tucked under Bruce’s chin, his weight leaning into Bruce’s solid frame. Then something broke, and he was crying for real, sobbing into his father’s chest, his body shivering with every new wave of tears.
Bruce held him long after Jason fell asleep, worn out from everything, his eyelids puffy, and his cheeks still wet with tears.
This is the second piece of the ‘Is That My Shirt?’ series I am working on. This time, it’s Armin’s turn. If you have a preference for which boy I do next, or if you want me to do one of the boys that aren’t a dating option in the game, leave me an ask.
So, maybe baking hadn’t been the best idea. Using measuring cups accurately. Softening but not melting butter. Cracking eggs and not getting any shell in the mix. Remembering to preheat the oven. And don’t even think about mentioning the haunting amount of flour that was now coating the pair. Baking required so much time and effort, far more than Armin had anticipated when he first suggested the idea to Candy. All he had wanted was a warm cake to eat with his girlfriend. What he got was a giant mess in the kitchen that he was going to have to clean up… Oh, and a giant mess all over himself and Candy. Precision really wasn’t his thing, and as it turns out it wasn’t hers either.
Once the cake had landed somewhat safely into the oven the pair had split up into separate rooms to get changed. Armin, like the occasional gentleman that he was, had allowed Candy to change in his room while he took the bathroom across the hall. It had only taken him a few minutes to discard the ingredient soaked clothes he had been wearing and replace them with something fresh. Apparently Candy wasn’t as speedy with her outfit swap.