![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Principal with a Post-It
Here's a Dead Like Me crossover, written for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
still_grrr prompt "Carnival of Souls".
I've been naughty and fudged the timeline a little, so that George Lass could be present at a major Buffyverse event, despite actually not having become a reaper until a few years later.
(If you've never seen Dead Like Me, don't worry. This story should still basically make sense...)
Principal with a Post-It
There was a student up on the podium, messing around with the scrolls.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped. “Shit! You scared me. Uh… hi.”
“You should be inside, getting ready for the ceremony,” Snyder told her coldly. “Not messing around with school property, missy.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She nodded obediently, but many years of stern principalling had sharpened Snyder’s hearing enough to pick up the mumbled “Geez, who stuck a pole up your ass?” that followed.
He glared. Which worked well.
“Inside. Now.”
“Um, yes sir. Sure.” The girl turned to go, and then paused, and checked a piece of paper she was holding. She frowned, and looked at him speculatively. “...Snyder? Principal Snyder?”
“Yes? What?” he snapped.
And suddenly, the student was smiling at him.
“I just wanted to say thanks. For, um, for making my high school experience so memorable and inspiring.” She reached forward and clasped his hand sincerely. “I really have enjoyed having you as my principal. Thank you, sir.”
Then she let go of his hand — which tingled, momentarily — and walked away. Snyder watched her go, unsettled.
Students smiling at him. Students saying thank you. That was just… against the natural order of things.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
School was about order. And neatness. And discipline. And comfort. And safety.
Ronald Snyder had never really liked school. Being forced to spend his time with a bunch of kids who didn’t like him much was unfair and annoying. He hated being there, and sat in class longing for vacation — and hoping that, this year, they’d go to the beach, or to a theme park. Or that he could be anywhere else, really.
Then came high school. And Ronald became “Smelly Snyder”. And class time became a refuge. A place where everyone had to obey the rules. A place where doing things right would get you praise, and being popular — or not — didn’t matter so much.
School had rules. And discipline. And quiet.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
…and there were shouts and screams and destruction and arrows and chaos and darkness and chairs being tipped over and people running and snakes and fear…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
J. GASCOV, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:31pm
R. SNYDER, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:32pm
P. COOKE, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:32pm
L. BLAISDELL, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:35pm
H. KENDALL, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:39pm
M. SERENDO, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:40pm
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Snyder stood and watched as the school — his school! — started hitting the ground, in a multitude of charred pieces.
He stared, in indignant disbelief. “How could…! That’s just…”
…unacceptable! …disorderly! …an outrage! …disrespectful! …not …really …his problem.
Hmm.
He blinked.
Strangely, despite the chaos, and the shouting, and the chunks of building raining down around him, it all seemed a bit… irrelevant.
“Hey! Dead people! Over here, please!”
Snyder looked around, to where a group of students were gathering around a girl — the same girl who had been interfering with the podium earlier in the afternoon, he remembered.
And he stood and watched while she explained that yes, they were dead, and no, they couldn’t take it back, or reverse time, or whatever, and no, there wasn’t anyone they could complain to.
He stood and watched as bright lights started shining behind — through — the remains of the school, and as Larry Blaisdell — star football player and one of Sunnydale’s finest — ran forward into a glowing football field, to the sound of a roaring crowd.
He stood and watched as his recently deceased students, one by one, followed Larry’s example, into their own sparkling lights that flickered out behind them.
And then he just stood.
All the still-alive students were starting to go home. Funny, he’d never really thought about them existing when they weren’t at school.
He’d never really thought about anything that wasn’t at school. Not for a long time.
“Ready?”
He turned. The girl was standing beside him.
“You could always stay here and try haunting people, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” She shrugged. “Ready to get going?”
“Where to?”
She just nodded to the left — where lights were blinking into existence over the parking lot.
“That’s your exit,” she said. “Looks like a theme park. ‘Andy Antelope’s Adventure Playground’, or some shit like that.”
“A theme park?” Snyder was flummoxed.
“Not what you were expecting?”
He’d thought a school, or a military academy, or… a school.
Or…
Actually…
“Looks pretty fun.” She raised an eyebrow, said “Well — enjoy…” and walked away.
And Ronald looked towards the lights, remembered what it was like to be elsewhere, and ran forward, suddenly eager.
still_grrr prompt "Carnival of Souls".I've been naughty and fudged the timeline a little, so that George Lass could be present at a major Buffyverse event, despite actually not having become a reaper until a few years later.
(If you've never seen Dead Like Me, don't worry. This story should still basically make sense...)
Principal with a Post-It
There was a student up on the podium, messing around with the scrolls.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped. “Shit! You scared me. Uh… hi.”
“You should be inside, getting ready for the ceremony,” Snyder told her coldly. “Not messing around with school property, missy.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She nodded obediently, but many years of stern principalling had sharpened Snyder’s hearing enough to pick up the mumbled “Geez, who stuck a pole up your ass?” that followed.
He glared. Which worked well.
“Inside. Now.”
“Um, yes sir. Sure.” The girl turned to go, and then paused, and checked a piece of paper she was holding. She frowned, and looked at him speculatively. “...Snyder? Principal Snyder?”
“Yes? What?” he snapped.
And suddenly, the student was smiling at him.
“I just wanted to say thanks. For, um, for making my high school experience so memorable and inspiring.” She reached forward and clasped his hand sincerely. “I really have enjoyed having you as my principal. Thank you, sir.”
Then she let go of his hand — which tingled, momentarily — and walked away. Snyder watched her go, unsettled.
Students smiling at him. Students saying thank you. That was just… against the natural order of things.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
School was about order. And neatness. And discipline. And comfort. And safety.
Ronald Snyder had never really liked school. Being forced to spend his time with a bunch of kids who didn’t like him much was unfair and annoying. He hated being there, and sat in class longing for vacation — and hoping that, this year, they’d go to the beach, or to a theme park. Or that he could be anywhere else, really.
Then came high school. And Ronald became “Smelly Snyder”. And class time became a refuge. A place where everyone had to obey the rules. A place where doing things right would get you praise, and being popular — or not — didn’t matter so much.
School had rules. And discipline. And quiet.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
…and there were shouts and screams and destruction and arrows and chaos and darkness and chairs being tipped over and people running and snakes and fear…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
J. GASCOV, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:31pm
R. SNYDER, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:32pm
P. COOKE, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:32pm
L. BLAISDELL, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:35pm
H. KENDALL, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:39pm
M. SERENDO, SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL, E.T.D. 3:40pm
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Snyder stood and watched as the school — his school! — started hitting the ground, in a multitude of charred pieces.
He stared, in indignant disbelief. “How could…! That’s just…”
…unacceptable! …disorderly! …an outrage! …disrespectful! …not …really …his problem.
Hmm.
He blinked.
Strangely, despite the chaos, and the shouting, and the chunks of building raining down around him, it all seemed a bit… irrelevant.
“Hey! Dead people! Over here, please!”
Snyder looked around, to where a group of students were gathering around a girl — the same girl who had been interfering with the podium earlier in the afternoon, he remembered.
And he stood and watched while she explained that yes, they were dead, and no, they couldn’t take it back, or reverse time, or whatever, and no, there wasn’t anyone they could complain to.
He stood and watched as bright lights started shining behind — through — the remains of the school, and as Larry Blaisdell — star football player and one of Sunnydale’s finest — ran forward into a glowing football field, to the sound of a roaring crowd.
He stood and watched as his recently deceased students, one by one, followed Larry’s example, into their own sparkling lights that flickered out behind them.
And then he just stood.
All the still-alive students were starting to go home. Funny, he’d never really thought about them existing when they weren’t at school.
He’d never really thought about anything that wasn’t at school. Not for a long time.
“Ready?”
He turned. The girl was standing beside him.
“You could always stay here and try haunting people, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” She shrugged. “Ready to get going?”
“Where to?”
She just nodded to the left — where lights were blinking into existence over the parking lot.
“That’s your exit,” she said. “Looks like a theme park. ‘Andy Antelope’s Adventure Playground’, or some shit like that.”
“A theme park?” Snyder was flummoxed.
“Not what you were expecting?”
He’d thought a school, or a military academy, or… a school.
Or…
Actually…
“Looks pretty fun.” She raised an eyebrow, said “Well — enjoy…” and walked away.
And Ronald looked towards the lights, remembered what it was like to be elsewhere, and ran forward, suddenly eager.
no subject
I really like Snyder's lights. Oh, and: “Hey! Dead people! Over here, please!” is perfect. Thanks for doing this crossover. The world needs more Dead Like Me/Buffy stories.
no subject
no subject
I like it.
no subject
no subject
Funny, he’d never really thought about them existing when they weren’t at school. Yes, yes, yes! That inversion is just perfect, having the teacher think that way about the students instead of vice-versa.
“Not what you were expecting?”
He’d thought a school, or a military academy, or… a school.
Or…
Actually…
“Looks pretty fun.” I'm dying with love over here. George is coming for me next. Or maybe Mason....Mmmm...Mason....
And the ending is just perfect! Fantastic!
One tiny quibble: the word footballer. I could be wrong, but I've never in my life heard an American say that about American football, only about soccer, and only then foreign soccer, if the person is really, really into it. So it would either be "football player" or "soccer player," though I'm kind of assuming you mean the former.
no subject
Ooh. Thanks. Didn't realise my Australianisms were coming through, there...
no subject
You're welcome! I'm sure that if I wrote more Dr. Who or something, my Americanisms would come through all the time.
no subject
And is...um...cute. Huh? You are indeed strange.
no subject
He's rather fun...
no subject
Wonderfully done.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Dead Like Me is a lot of fun. Check it out, sometime!
no subject
no subject