sadfreezingbrit_archive | One accidental video by two deliberate Philips [15/??? artefacts collected]

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One accidental video by two deliberate Philips [15/??? artefacts collected]

First floor, room somethingorother. This is a boring feed. There's the sound of furniture being moved in the background, but all that's visible is a wooden door. For a moment it sounded like there was a knock on it, but that was probably just the background noise. Really, it doesn't look like anything will be happening here anytime soon. Honestly, better change the channel to something moreOHGODPICKAXE!!!

[ With a crack the wood splinters, a narrow metal head bursting through it. After a moment it dislodges and after another the axe comes crashing through again, making the crack wider. Somebody is behind that door, but their identity remains yet unknown.

Enter Philip, slowly shoving a heavy bookcase in front of the door. Once he's got the exit completely covered he disappears again and returns to follow up with a dresser, a table and several chairs.

Once the entire barricade is in place he sways back and lets himself fall against a wall, sinking to the floor while gasping for air.

He flinches as the barricade rattles and shakes.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Then silence.

Philip pauses, hesitates and finally breathes a sigh of relief.

Silence.

Suddenly a creaking noise, coming from the closet further back in the room.

Philip swallows and hesitates before slowly getting up to investigate, circling the closet doors at a good distance until he is able to see inside.

And once he does his eyes widen instantly and he takes a few panicked steps back. ]

No! N-no...

[ He shakes his head frantically. ]

How d-- How did you...?

[ The door creaks open a little further, revealing to the camera a perfect copy of Philip.

Not somebody similar, no. Not a sloppy copy with different clothes, perhaps an air that is more or less refined. Not somebody with a different voice or even a different accent.

Not somebody slightly younger or slightly older either, not even somebody who has at least the decency to wear an interesting hat or perhaps have pitch black demon eyes or set himself apart from the original in any way.

No, this guy here might as well be Philip's reflection. If Philip was currently holding a pickaxe that is... ]

The lesson here is that you can lock away your problems as much as you like, they are only going to find a way around eventually.

[ The shadow smiles and advances towards Philip. ]

Take for instance our dearest and most trusted companion Clarence--

I don't want to hear it! [ The original interrupts, takes another step back and looks over his shoulder. Then he turns around and jumps through the open window.

His remaining double only shakes his head and calls after him: ]

Denial is not just an anagram of your best friend, Philip!

[ After a moment's pause the shadow shoulders his axe and gives chase. ]

[[OOC: ICly cut for length. Philip will answer video and audio with a slight IC delay while being chased. Both Philips can be found outside the mansion for action interaction.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

GET A BUCKET ALREADY, JEGUS.

[ Just give him a moment to distance himself from... himself.

Hiding somewhere in the gardens he notices the message and checks his communicator, hoping that this is something important or at least-- ]

W-what?

[ Okay, never mind. He has no idea who this is or what she wants. ]

[ you will get all the trolling in dire, potentially last moments. all of it. ]

Obviously there's some sort of hatemance going on here. Just accept your stabs and move on with it, hehehe!

Some-- What?

Who are you, what--

[ Forgive him, Philip is a little tense right now, otherwise he would gladly and politely explain that Terezi is getting the wrong idea here.

Not that he's actually caught on to what idea she's getting, but it's clearly nothing like-- ]

All this misery is only a result of fighting the inevitable! We both know this would be so much easier if you would just give him your body!

[ ...Excuse Philip for a moment, he has some more running to do. ]

[ - INSERT SOME MORE RUNNING HERE - ]

[ Aaaaaaaaand we're back. Look who's made it into the labyrinth! ]

This... this isn't really a good time, I--

...Did you say I should just let him stab me?

Yeah! Let him get it out of his system!

Or is this one of those things where you don't feel the same way?

Edited 2011-03-10 01:48 (UTC)

[ In Philip's mind two WTFs are skipping along the beach hand in hand, kissing while in tender embrace and subsequently in a shocking fast forward of events proceed to have many, many WTF babies.

It's a happy WTF family, all thanks to Terezi. ]

I- I don't feel that... that being stabbed would be a good- a good solution, no.

{It's always the same with you and your horrible death somehow not being a good solution. I'm feeling a real bias here, monkey. }

...Who are you anyway?

[ that is the most romantic story i've ever heard. it brings a single tear to my eye. ]

Oh. [ well, this is suddenly awkward. ]

I'm Terezi Pyrope, the most beautiful and awesome troll who may be the one to save your sorry husk. Want some help?

Edited 2011-03-10 20:56 (UTC)

[ This man hails from the ancient times of 2003. Now, while internet trolls already exist and are appropriately labelled in that year Philip's first association upon hearing the word is still closer to the mythological monster than to somebody who's never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down.

Speaking of which, he could use some help (in fact one might say that he could use all the help there is), but he has his doubts about this girl's idea of help and with his shadow seemingly lost elsewhere in the maze he can afford to be hesitant. ]

Help... how?

[ You are just going to stab him faster, aren't you? ]

[ No.

Possibly.

Probably.

Shut up and have a little faith, jeezits. ]

I've got a jetpack and an urge to dish out a furious cane-drubbing. How the fuck do you think?

A troll with a jetpack. Of course.

Well, forgive me for being sceptical, but your first idea was to let him stab me.

[ Somewhere beyond the hedges he hears somebody whistling. This may be very scenic, but is generally not a good sign. ]

I hear an asshole closing in. Sounds like he wants you to meet a good friend of his-- Mr. Pickaxe. So, WANT MY HELP OR NOT?

[ Okay, so calling his double WHO IS CLEARLY A LYING LIAR WHO LIES an asshole gets her plus points, but still... ]

I--

Is that you talking there? I recognise my voice, I think you really need to stop using it! This would be a great moment to call you monkey, but I think neither of us are still human enough to make that comparison fly~

I do!

...I... I do. I'm... in the labyrinth, please--

There you are!

[ Annnd there goes the transmission. ]

Edited 2011-03-11 02:30 (UTC)

[It's been an eventful event.

Dean's relived some great childhood memories in his old house. He's seen a fairly accurate reflection of himself - or rather, what he looks like on the inside: scared and vulnerable and waiting for the inevitable. He almost died in a swimming pool! That's definitely one to put down on the list of "Thing Never To Do Again". He met a lovely beauty pageant contestant by the name of Clarence, who really ought to looking into several things: 1) getting plastic surgery, and 2) not being a complete dick.

He made good with Cas.

Admittedly, the last one instilled him with some kind of delightful energy that made fighting all of this shit even easier. Because he does need people. Dean just never knows how to ask for help. All of this, though, lightening his mood and his Shadow's strength, has put Dean on a Hell-bent, Heaven-sent mission to help as many people as he can.

So when he sees a transmission from Philip, featuring the acting talents of Creepy-Ass Philip 2.0 with a pickaxe in his inventory, Dean scrambles for his new-and-improved portable arsenal. Grabbing the communicator as he leaves his room and starts down one of the hallways, he offers assistance.

Not that he's going to take Phil seriously if he refuses it, or anything.]

It's Dean. Where are you?

[ Where is Philip? That's a very good question.

The feed Dean saw took place on the mansion's first floor. The chase Dean didn't see led him into the labyrinth.

Events after that are a little unclear, but there may have been trolls involved. Or buckets. It was very confusing.

Hey, maybe Philip's shadow even died. For a while... ]

Outside.

[ ...Except the person twirling a bloody pickaxe while comfortably sitting on a bench near the forest with a smile on his face might not be the Philip you're looking for. ]

Outside, righ-

[Dean almost screeches to a halt. That...doesn't sound right. At all. Glancing down at the communicator, he sees it. It's not Phil. It's that thing wielding a pickaxe, looking ridiculously smug. Dean picks up on the blood first, and swallows the panic that wants to rise in his throat.

By no means does he slow his pace, but he sure as Hell is gonna call on Castiel since things look this bad.]

What the fuck did you do with him?

Who, "Philip"? [ That's right, airquotes. ] I was just trying to explain to him that he's wrong about... Well, where to start?

[ He shakes his head and laughs a little. ]

...But of course he didn't listen. He never listens to the good advice. To you, maybe. To his "friends". [ A chuckle. More airquotes. ] But never to the only one who really knows what is going on.

Come to think of it I should probably start looking for him again. [ A look at the bloody pickaxe. ] He can't have gone that far and there are some things I would really like to clarify.

[ He stands up and turns towards the forest. ] I don't exactly enjoy your company, but if you need to bother somebody with your incessant whining I suppose I can spare a moment to talk to you later.

[Fuck's sake, if that's a repressed part of Philip's inner self, violence and all, then the poor bastard is screwed unless he gets some help.

Dean had qualms with his shadow. Admitting that he had his doubts took a lot, but knowing that he has people here, people who care and who actually want to help, made him realize that no one should be alone. Dean has friends here. That's...kind of a big deal for him.

So no, he's not just going to abandon one of them to be stabbed to death with a pickaxe.]

Yeah, later ain't gonna happen. You're gonna get the Wrath of God, you dick.

[With a loud CLICK, he switches channels and leaves a message for someone else:]

Cas? Look, wherever you are, I need your help, man. Friend's in deep shit. I'm heading outside.

"Dean."

After figuring his own predicament out and subsequently ~~rescuing Dean like the pretty pretty damsel he is~~ aiding Dean in his own distress, Cas has been back to wandering the halls, searching for anyone else who might need help. Also getting some distance from Dean (for an entirely different reason than before, namely now is not an appropriate time to 'jump Dean's bones', as it has been phrased to Cas), and occasionally grinning like an idiot when no one is looking and he can't help himself.

But he's here now.

~ MEANWHILE IN THE FOREST ~

[ Blood trails are almost the norm around these parts, although this time they do not involve an eldritch horror of any kind.

Their cause is as simple and elegant as a pickaxe to Philip's leg and the resulting wound is currently making his plan to lose his shadow in the forest and make a turn back to the mansion a lot more straining than he thought.

He falls against a tree, gasping for breath, when he hears a voice in the not-nearly-distant-enough distance. ]

So, if I'm reading your helpful little blood trail right, then you should be able to hear me now. I thought you should know that we might get some company and I know I don't have to tell you this, but do your best to look very, very innocent or the Wrath of God [ He chuckles quietly at this. ] might just strike you by accident.

...Not that that isn't a thing that could happen anyway, with or without me around. I'd tell you to listen to Clarence now, but I'm getting a little tired on wasting my time on your hopeless judgement.

[ Philip swallows and pushes himself up. ]

{My advice? Make a run for it. Not saying I wasn't havin' a blast with that other you earlier, but the homicidal tendencies towards our body are a bit of a turn-off right now, even for me. }

[ Philip steadies himself, his injured leg almost giving out on him. Then he looks around and disappears deeper into the forest. ]

Lovely lips and eyelashes or not, Dean isn't a pretty, pretty damsel, and he'd thank all of you to remember that. Jumping a little, gun cocked and at the ready as Castiel just appears - it's going to take a while to get used to that - Dean relaxes minutely once he sees who it is, and gives the angel a lopsided smile.

"Hey."

Not that Dean is constantly preoccupied with sex, but after having spent a good five minutes making out with his, quote, "new boyfriend", seeing him again so soon is stretching him thin when he's really aching for a little physicality.

Fortunately, there are other things to distract from this. Namely: Philip being chased down by Jason, sans the hockey mask. Dean gestures that Cas follow him through the foyer of the mansion and outside, starting the trek across the grassy field and towards the woods. The woods don't have the best of connotations for them, considering what happened the last time they ventured forth in search of suitable hunting material, but this is different.

"Phil's up shit creek without a paddle. His shadow's re-enacting My Bloody Valentine, and friggin' nobody liked Tom Hanniger."

Dean shoulders his shotgun and sends Castiel a sidelong glance, worried. "Can you find him before NegaPhil does? Like...with your mind?"

Cas smiles back at Dean. It's small and secret and probably few people besides Dean would even recognize it as a smile. Dean is not alone in his physical longing; Cas wants nothing more than to push Dean up against the nearest flat surface - vertical or horizontal will do - and do things to him that... well. He really shouldn't even be thinking about, lest his vessel betray him.

Then as Dean goes on, his expression is gradually replaced by his usual blank facade. This should be a clue by now to observers that Cas Has No Idea What You're Talking About. "I do not understand that reference," he states. "But in answer to the last, yes - I can... try." He does so, searching not for Phil's mind, actually, but for one he suspects may stand out more strongly for its strangeness, at least to himself: the creature that calls itself Clarence.

This narration would encourage distressed damsel Dean and his pretty guardian ~~Sailor Moon~~ angel Castiel to get a room, but doing so might delay a certain rescue mission inconveniently.

So it will merely resort to reassuring the both of you that being pressed against a horizontal surface is not nearly as fun as you guys are making it sound.

...Not when that surface is the forest floor and the only long, hard and firm wood is that of a pickaxe presently pressed tightly against your throat.

Philip desperately struggles against his shadow's hold, but the unnatural copy is packing... well, an unnatural amount of muscle.

"Look on the bright side of it all, the way you're acting now you can't exactly get a lot more useless in death. And just so you know, you could've avoided all of this if you'd just listened to Clarence and gave the wheel to somebody who knows where he's driving."

The original would reply, but being choked by an axe tends to restrict your enthusiasm for speech. Or breathing.

Luckily the same restrictions do not apply to Philip's head where somebody is finally catching on to the message that's being sent out to him.

"Hey, is that a long-distance call I'm gettin'? Would love to chat, really, but I'm just a little busy, well... dying right now. Hey, feel free to leave a message though."

Edited 2011-03-13 21:45 (UTC)

Dean doesn't stop to ask how Castiel's brainwave reception is, barreling through the underbrush just outside the line of trees and stalking into the woods on a mission from God. He pauses a few yards in, listening.

At first, there's just outside noise. A couple birds, maybe some bugs. A mosquito buzzing by his ear. But the sounds aren't coming from every direction. They stop in one area. It's quiet. The woods here have the uncanny ability to know what's wrong, and while Dean would normally bolt in the opposite direction - Operator vibes, and all that - he gestures that Castiel follow him towards the silence. Lowering his shotgun and shifting the bag of ammunition on his shoulder, Dean cocks it and steps carefully through the dead leaves, stopping by a tree to listen again.

Voices.

"...if you'd just listened to Clarence and gave the wheel to somebody who knows where he's driving."

Oh, Hell no. Dean looks to Cas and starts making military hand gestures before realizing that Cas doesn't know what he means. Rolling his eyes, he thinks really loudly instead, Circle around to the other side. We'll pincer him. Get Phil. I'll distract the dick.

Dean is good at that.

Making obscenely loud crunching noise with his boots, he tromps right into a moderate clearing to see Philip wrestled to the ground by his Shadow, the thing pressing a pickaxe handle against his windpipe. Dean levels his gun at the Shadow's head, smile tight. he knows the stakes. He knows very well that the Shadow could snap Philip's neck in less than a second.

"It just ain't your lucky day, is it, douchebag?"

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Asking Cas' mun if she wants in on this. THREESOME THREAD. M!Phil would be proud.

[VIDEO] HUZZAH! \o/ /single manly tear of perverted pride

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[action] /SIGHS /CONVERTS TO PROSEISM

[action] YES, JOIN THE FOLD. EVERYTHING IS HAPPY HERE. EVERYTHING.