#A flaming Lazarus Sword that starts flaming when you draw it

[mutable-manifestation]

#damian thinks the sword is really cool but will never admit it#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc x dp#dp x dc#dc#batman#damian wayne#bruce wayne#fright knight

^Damian tries to steal Fright Knight's sword

Listen, he's a vigilante okay? It's not even stealing, really. He just wants to "comandeer" it to like. Get a closer look, maybe figure out how to make his own.

Batman commandeers cars and stuff, surely Damian can have just one little sword? He'll even use the same method and return it in better condition than it was - give a nice polish or something.

The problems are:

He has an incredibly limited window of opportunity - until they leave the meeting

Danny defended him - and more importantly, granted Damian the pleasure of seeing someone who'd been pestering him get punched while not doing the punching himself. Meaning Father cannot be angry with him, as he didn't lay a hand on anyone. And yet, the nuisance still got punched. Incredibly satisfying.

He does not know Danny well enough to judge whether he would find Damian's... "commandeering"... amusing or would take offense, meaning there is an additional set of eyes to avoid. Which would not normally be a problem, except -

Danny has an incredibly high level of situational awareness - Damian shares a few classes with him and has noticed the way he scans each room he enters - doors, windows, exits, vents, and every person in the room from closest to farthest. Just quick little visual flits as he enters, fast enough that he doesn't even have to pause at the threshhold. Damian has never been able to surprise him.

As his guardian, Damian must assume his guardian has the same level of awareness if not better.

Damian's Father is present and will undoubtedly catch him after the fact, assuming he doesn't stop him outright.

So he'll just find where they live and commandeer form there.

Except after a night of very careful examination, Damian finds "Frighty" - as Danny had called him - nowhere to be found. When he opts t watch from a distance the man never shows up. Researching meta's with his abilities turns up nothing and while he could probably find something with time, the window was closing on another option....

The solution was available from before the problem arose: Danny Fenton punched someone on his behalf - no he did not need defending. So what he can't hit back because of father's rules he knows how to take a hit he's not a damsel - it only makes sense to thank him.

Waiting a few days was one thing, but too late and it will be odd. He can't afford to ping alarm bells.

And what better thank you than an Alfred-cooked meal and a tour of the flower garden. And his guardian will have to come along as well, of course - his presence had been indispensable in getting the school to listen and the boy that had attempted to attack him had ended up with both a broken nose and an in-school suspension while Danny only got a detention.

Of course, he will be welcome to leave his sword in the umbrella stand... which will give Damian the chance to swap it with a replica while he's not looking. As for returning it... Damian will cross that bridge when he gets to it.

But first: to convince Father to allow dinner guests.

Danny is going to Gotham high which yay for him!

Problem? Right now he's in the office because he may have punched someone while defending damian and now everyone is waiting for his guardian

But clockwork can't come (humans perceive him a bit...well he just can't) and jazz has an important exam

So who's next in line?

Fright Knight! (Okay, technically he's not the Guardian OF Danny but more guarding Danny but details details)

So Fright Knight appears in all of his villain-esque glory and foaming sword

And everyone kinda freaks out because?? Danny, is your guardian a villain? What do you mean 'depends'?? What does the shrugging mean?? No we can't go back to the punch thing-

[phis-corner]

demon’s daughter

My beta just finished reading arc three chapter two and I’m cackling at his expression. I’m a troll.

My beta is just my younger brother. He’s a grammar and punctuation nut, so it all checks out.

This is the last chapter in the second arc!

Masterlist ◈ Previous ◈ Next

Marinette joined Professor D’Argencourt’s fencing team two weeks into the school year as a way to keep her skills sharp and as an outlet for stress. It works surprisingly well, but she is by far the most skilled fencer on the team. Marinette is confident she can at least match Professor D’Argencourt in a match, but she hasn’t ever tried.

The only person anywhere near her skill level, regrettably, is Adrien. Every day after school, she duels him, and every day, she is victorious. None of the team is a match for her, unlike Cass, or… Damian.

She shakes her head, pulling her face guard down and walking out of the locker room into the open courtyard in the middle of the school. The red and gold leaves of November rustle above her. Thinking about Damian will not bring him back.

A new fencer, boldly dressed in red, is demanding to join the team. D’Argencourt insists that they only have room for the best, and the fencer states that they were the best, wherever they went. The professor agrees to let them duel the best fencer he has, and that they will be allowed to join the team if the fencer beats his best.

When asked who is the best fencer, everyone turns around and looks at Marinette. She draws her sabre and walks over to the mats. Maybe this fencer will be different.

Marinette stands tall, sabre at the ready, facing her opponent, who does the same. At the professor’s signal, they lunge in a furious battle of blades, and she feels a jolt of excitement as she has to increase the amount of focus she uses from half to about two-thirds to keep up. Marinette has never met someone who could keep up with her that wasn’t a Bat, Justice League member, or assassin. This is new and interesting, and she likes it.

Again and again, the machine declares a tie, so they remove their sensors and engage in combat the old-fashioned way. Marinette knows she isn’t pushing herself as much as she can, that she could win if she tried harder, but this fencer is… special. Different. She wants them to join the team, if only so she can duel them during practice instead of Adrien.

When their sabres finally touch each other again, Adrien is the only one who witnesses it, and he declares the one in red the winner. 

Marinette disagrees, but lets it go. It is not every day that she meets someone who can match her in swordplay. She looks forward to duelling them again, now that they have been awarded a place on the team.

The fencer removes their mask, revealing- “Tsurugi Kagami.” Marinette says reverently. “It was an honor to duel you.” 

She removes her own face guard and holds out her hand. “Marinette Cheng.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Kagami’s French is lightly accented. “I do not find many that can keep up with me.”

It was more like you were keeping up with me, but it is admirable all the same. Marinette smiles as the other girl shakes her hand. “I believe this will be the start of a strong partnership. I look forward to seeing you at practice tomorrow..”

Kagami’s serious brown eyes meet her piercing blue ones. “Yes, I believe it will.”

.o0o.

“Tikki, why did you choose a child to be a hero?” Marinette asks one November afternoon.

Her kwami blinks. “Your soul was the most compatible with my miraculous in Paris.”

“But would choosing an adult that was less compatible send the city up in flames? Why did it have to be children who guard the city?”

Tikki sighs. “There’s a Guardian of the Miraculous. That question is meant for him.”

“A Guardian of the Miraculous?” Marinette asks, frowning at her kwami. 

Tikki nods. “Yes. I want to take you to meet him. I believe you are ready.”

The next day, after school, Marinette walks among the scattered red and gold leaves asTikki directs her to a small massage parlor. Upon knocking, Marinette sees the old man with the terrible shirt from her first day of school. So he was hiding something, after all.

“Hello, Ladybug.” The man greets, and she raises an eyebrow.

Tikki flies towards the man. “Marinette, this is Master Fu, the Guardian of the Miraculouses.”

“I knew you were hiding something.” Marinette says, then remembers what she originally came to ask. 

“What were you thinking, giving magical jewelry to children so they could be thrust into the middle of a battlefield without any training or forewarning?”

Master Fu sighs. “Children are less likely to use the miraculous for evil.”

“And that makes it correct?” Marinette’s eyes flash a dangerous green for the first time in her kwami’s presence. “Children are supposed to be children, not have to constantly find excuses to leave school and extracurricular activities so they can bear the weight of a city on their shoulders. Children are supposed to be innocent! You are extremely lucky I lost all innocence long before I came to Paris, but what of Chat Noir? He holds his staff like a sword! The only reason he hasn’t died permanently yet is because my power reverses all the damage, and his suit absorbs most of the harm done to him!”

Master Fu, Tikki, and the turtle kwami she never caught the name of hovering next to the old man’s shoulder wear identical expressions of shock.

“You have used a Lazarus Pit.” The turtle kwami says.

Master Fu nods. “That would explain the destruction in your soul that would make you a good Black Cat as well.”

Marinette looks at her Ladybug kwami, eyes hard. “Tikki. You already knew I was once a part of Batman’s team, that much is unavoidable given the calls I make weekly. What you did not know, however, was that I was born and raised in the League of Assassins until I was ten years old.”

Several gasps are heard, and Marinette glares at the Guardian.

“So I have seen too much. I have gone and crossed the line. I have watched others cross that line. I have been the victim when others cross the line. My innocence may have been long gone, but it does not change the fact that you put the burden of protecting a city on children.” Marinette leaves the massage parlor without another word, Tikki quickly hiding back in her jacket as they exit.

.o0o.

When Marinette accepts Richard’s request to video chat at their usual time, she is surprised to see Father in the small crowd around the screen too.

There are various cries of ‘Mari!’ and ‘Nettie!’ and she smiles.

“Bonsoir Richard, Cass, Jason, Tim, Alfred, Father. How have you been?”

“Great!” Richard replies, then pauses. “Well, actually, Timmy got stabbed on patrol three nights ago, but it wasn’t that deep and didn’t hit anything major.”

“Dick!” Tim whines. “I’m fine! Your winter break starts in three weeks, right? Are you coming back to visit?”

Marinette would be lying if she said she hadn’t already thought about it. She went to Paris to escape the city, to escape her memories, but it would be nice to see her family again. Paris was different, in a nice kind of way, but sometimes, one just needed the darkness and gargoyles of Gotham. 

“I’m booking a flight to Gotham for Winter Break. Our break lasts until January 6th, so I will return on the same day. Jet lag is not much of an issue for me.”

Father looks at the screen with more seriousness. “How are you holding up? We saw this week’s akuma. Jackady? A terrible name, but a mob managed to storm past the Agreste Manor’s front gates and into the home.”

“Jackady was a play on Jacque a dit, the French version of Simon Says.” Marinette replies. “The akuma had a lot of potential for destruction, but the bakery was left untouched. I am fine, Father.”

The look of relief on his worn face is obvious. “Good. And another thing? I know you said you didn’t want to be a vigilante anymore, but if you’re up to it, could you do a bit of digging into Ladybug’s identity? I understand that we’re not allowed in Paris, but Chat Noir doesn’t seem to be pulling his weight in the fights and our resources can help in her search for Hawkmoth from afar.”

Marinette frowns. “You still don’t know who Ladybug is? It has been almost three months. Tim solves decades-old cold cases in half an hour. Surely, they have some idea…

Cass shakes her head. “Magic blocking investigation, but maybe being closer helps. Ladybug’s fighting style… familiar.”

Marinette would hope so. Most of her combat moves were adopted from the League’s training, adjusted to be non-lethal. The rest were taught by her siblings. Ladybug constantly used Nightwing’s signature acrobatics to dodge attacks, wrestled off far larger opponents with Red Hood’s instructions in her head, scanned and analyzed everything and everyone just like Red Robin taught her, and Black Bat’s style was present in well... everything. Marinette always had an almost identical fighting style to her.

“You have no clue whatsoever? None?” She double checks, just in case. They shake their heads, Tim frowning in irritation at his inability to crack the case.

Marinette glances at Tikki, who is hovering above her computer. The kwami nods with a tiny smile, although Marinette would have them either way if she wanted to.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “...You guys are Bats. The most mysterious clan of heroes in the Justice League, the partners of the World’s Greatest Detective, or in Father’s case, the World’s Greatest Detective himself, and yet you cannot deduce that I am Ladybug. Though, I suppose I should cut you some slack since my kwami has informed me that the magic makes it almost impossible to deduce the holder’s identity without seeing them transform in front of your eyes.”

As expected, the other side of the screen erupts into chaos. Swear words (mostly from Jason), Alfred’s cries of ‘Five dollars in the swear jar, Master Jason- No, make that six!’, Father’s grumbling about how he should have seen it, and overall shocked exclamations make her smirk.

“We should have seen it! Who else could possibly have been Ladybug?” Tim asks. “She stands for Creation, and literally nobody is more creative than Marinette. She’s got the same fighting style, the same mask- wait. Is the whole Caucasian appearance another magic thing?”

“Well, eighty-five percent of France’s population is white. My normal skin tone combined with blue eyes would make me stand out far too much for my liking, and I do not want any outsiders learning my identity, magic hiding it or no. I will not take that risk. Besides, it throws people off my trail, along with the hair. Red streaks in my hair do not look too bad.” Marinette explains.

She glances over at the Robin doll on her bed as her family squabbles across the ocean, its masked eyes fierce. I hope I have made you proud, akhi.

Before she turns around, she can almost hear her twin’s voice. You always do, ukhti.

Then her phone beeps with an akuma alert, and Marinette says goodbye to her family before hanging up, transforming, and leaping off her rooftop balcony, swinging towards the destruction to once again save the day.

Previous ◈ Next 

just a warning: updates are going to be much slower from here on out. I think.

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[kuriquinn]

Wayward Son [SPN Fusion]

The Usual Disclaimers ETC (Also, Supernatural doesn’t belong to me either)

Author’s Note: So I didn’t actually write this recently, cuz I’m still not having a great time of it writing-wise, but I had outlined it like two months ago and just fleshed it out today. 

Warning(s): Appropriation of dialogue from the spn episode Lazarus Rising.

Dedicate to: All my followers who are part of other fandoms than the SS fandom :)

The only light in the warehouse comes from naked lightbulbs hanging and spluttering from the roof, loose wires winding down the walls to the generator.

Kakashi draws an obscure character on the cement floor with a spray can, one of countless symbols on the ground, walls and ceiling. Sasuke frowns at the nearest ones, studying them for a clue as to their meaning.

“I’m not sure I’ve seen most of these symbols,” he remarks.

“Traps and talismans,” Kakashi murmurs, adjusting his bandana around his face to keep the fumes at bay. “I had to dig deep into mythologies all over the world for some of these.” He glances up. “How are you doing?”

“The usual fare,” Sasuke replies, nodding at his stash of stakes, knives, tire irons, silver bullets and salt. “I suspect we can catch or kill anything I have ever heard of.”

“I still think this is a bad idea.”

Sasuke doesn’t reply.

He knows exactly what Kakashi’s thoughts on the matter are. If he’s being honest with himself—which he has always actively avoided—he feels the same. There’s nothing good that can come out of this, but he has learned better than most that ignorance can kill you just as much as knowledge.

His head feels too full, too busy since he awoke in an unmarked grave somewhere in Shiga Prefecture, surrounded by a field of dead earth and trees. He doesn’t remember Hell—it’s a small mercy, and one he doubts will last much longer, given his luck. All he remembers is being torn apart by the hellhound, and then waking up and looking for Kakashi, and then Itachi. His reunion with Itachi, and his brother being…different.

Sasuke knows Itachi is hiding something but getting him to open up will take time; it has never been easy to get him to talk, and there’s somehow too much distance between them to reach him right now. He suspects at least some of that is residual guilt—Itachi is the oldest, he was supposed to protect Sasuke and find a way to save him from Hell, but he couldn’t—and perhaps resentment of Sasuke for putting him in the predicament in the first place.

For bargaining his soul to keep his older brother alive.

But it’s been twenty-four hours since he’s been back, and he can’t do anything to deal with Itachi just now, and he’s never been good at waiting. With all the strange things that have been happening since he dug himself out of his grave—the high-pitched scream following him around, that seer Kin getting her eyes burned from her skull, the yōkai at the restaurant being too afraid to even try to kill him, the burning hand-shaped brand on his right shoulder—he wants answers, and he wants them now.

He wants to know why this—Sakura, Kin called her before her face erupted into flame—is hunting him.

He doesn’t say any of this to Kakashi, of course, and the man who all-but raised him and Itachi knows better than to prompt him. He simply nods, reluctant, and treads over to a rickety table nearby to take a pitch of some foul-smelling powder and sprinkle it in a large bowl.

Smoke wafts in the air, and Kakashi begins to chant in an ancient Chinese dialect; Sasuke doesn’t know what it means, but he’s familiar enough with most incantations to get the gist of it. He half-expects there to be an explosion, or the air to vibrate and twist the way it does when a ghost materializes, but nothing happens.

The smoke keeps billowing until it vanishes completely, and the warehouse remains empty.

Kakashi seems unsurprised, and hoists himself up to sit on the table, drawing a battered paperback novel out of his pocket.

“Is now really the time?” Sasuke grumbles, scowling at the lurid cover.

“It could be a while,” Kakashi answers, opening up the book. “For all we know, whatever it is that’s been following you around is out of phase with this dimension and needs time to materialize. Or it could be a yōkai created by whatever spell brought you back and is simultaneously existing and not existing. Sort of a Schrodinger’s Demon.”

He’s worse than Itachi when he gets started, Sasuke grumbles to himself. Out loud, however, he prompts, “If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be best to be prepared when it shows up?”

Kakashi’s attention remains glued to the bodie-ripper, but he lifts his rifle with his right hand, and Sasuke knows there’s no point to arguing with him. Besides, even when he’s supposedly immersed in his books, Kakashi has the best reflexes Sasuke has ever seen outside of the Uchiha family.

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke leans back against the table, arms folded and stares at the sealing circles, bordered by jumon incantations and mantras, and surrounding the Devil’s Traps on the floor.

What is there that exists that wouldn’t get trapped by that?

“Are you sure you didn’t get the ritual wrong?” Sasuke asks twenty minutes late when still nothing has occurred.

Kakashi glances up from his book, raising an eyebrow at him as if he’s just been insulted. Sasuke doesn’t back down—he’s said much worse to the older man in his time—and Kakashi shrugs.

“It’s a dead language,” he replies. “Older than Buddhism. One that isn’t spoken anymore. It’s possible I mispronounced something, but that shouldn’t affect the invocation itself.”

“But how can you be sure—”

A loud rattling shakes the roof.

“I’m sure,” Kakashi remarks, jumping to his feet with his rifle. Sasuke checks the two semi-automatics in his shoulder-holster, then puts his hand to the katana at his waist. The demon-slaying Kusanagi has killed every supernatural beast it’s come up against, and so it stands to reason he might need it now. 

The air is charged, like it might be just before a bolt of lightning arcs through it, and there’s a thundering sound moving closer. When it hits up against the far-end of the warehouse, the walls themselves tremble as if they are about to fold inward. Before they can do so, however, the wide door slams open.

The gust of wind that emanates from behind her makes Sasuke’s eye’s water, and he blinks rapidly to keep his eyes on the figure that has materialized in the doorway.

That’s…not what I expected.

The creature has the form of a petite woman, dwarfed by the giant doors still straining back against their wall. Her hair is the colour of cherry blossoms, a somewhat bizarre contrast to her pantsuit, tie and what appears to be an immaculate white lab coat.   

She glides toward them with a slow, deliberate ease that is marred only by the light bulbs that shatter above her as she passes, raining sparks down on her.

As she gets within their range, Sasuke and Kakashi both open fire, intending to slow her down.

It becomes apparent almost immediately that the bullets have no effect, and so Sasuke tosses his semi-automatic to one side and bends into a stance for battōjutsu.  

“Who are you?” he bites out, hand poised and thumb ready to flick his sword from his sheath.

The woman cocks her head to one side, as if confused by the question. “I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

“Allow me to thank you, then.”

He darts forward, drawing Kusanagi and slicing the blade upward and across her abdomen, before reversing the blade to shove through her chest. He waits for the flicker of electricity to sizzle through her body, the sign of the blade destroying its host, but nothing happens.

She doesn’t even flinch.

He is sure of this because his move brings him within inches of her face, close enough to observe that her eyes are a startlingly clear green for a Japanese woman. Something about them makes him release his hold on the sword and jump back.

What is she?

The woman considers the blade sticking out of her front, and then slowly pulls it out. There is no blood on it.

As the sword clatters uselessly to the floor, Kakashi attacks, charging forward while shooting his rifle point-blank at her face. With a movement Sasuke barely sees, she slides forward, taking hold of the weapon and using it to draw close, before touching the side of Kakashi’s head.

He crumples to the ground while Sasuke’s heart clenches, and the woman then looks up at him beatifically.

“We need to talk, Sasuke-kun,” she tells him. “Alone.” He swallows painfully, eyes flicking to Kakashi. “Your friend is alive.”

“Who are you?” Sasuke asks again.

“Sakura.”

“I figured that out already. What are you?”

“I have been called many things. Tennyo. Apsara. Angel of the Lord.”

“There’s no such thing,” Sasuke says immediately.

“Oh, Sasuke-kun…” she sighs, sounding disappointed and comforting at the same time. “This is your weakness. You have no faith.”

Lightning flashes—from where, he’s not sure, because they are still inside the warehouse—and he watches in astonishment as the shadows of two massive wings stretch out against the wall, like a bird about to take flight. An aura of unquestionable power radiates from the woman before her, and for a moment he thinks he sees something on her forehead gleam, and black designs crisscross around her body.

The electric light fades away and the image disappears, leaving the small woman before him, looking human but not.

“I apologise for earlier,” she says, looking contrite. “My real voice can be a little overwhelming to humans.”

It takes a beat for him to realise what she’s talking about, and he remembers the high-frequency, glass shattering scream that had him bleeding from his ears for several hours the day before. “That was you talking?”

A little overwhelming?

“Yes. I am sorry. Normally, certain people—special people—can perceive my true form and my true voice. I believed you would be one of them, but I was wrong.”

“And what form are you now?” Sasuke demands, flicking his eyes over her form again. “Holy hospital CEO?”

“This…this is a vessel,” she replies, sliding her hands down the curves of her body in a way that a human might intend as seductive, but comes off as clinical.  

“You mean you’re possessing that girl.”

“She is a devout woman. She prayed for this.”

“Bullshit. No one volunteers to give up their body,” Sasuke snaps. “What are you really?”

“I told you.”

“Even if I believed you, why would a celestial being pull me out of Hell?”

“Good things do happen, Sasuke-kun.”

“Not in my experience.”

In his experience, everything always goes to shit just when they seem to be getting better. He and his brother haven’t been able to catch a break since the fire that burned their mother to death on the ceiling of his nursery. The fact that he survived as long as he did before getting himself killed was dumb luck.

It has always been Itachi doing everything for him and protecting him. If anyone should be saved, should be given a second chance at life, it’s Itachi. Itachi, who was happy in law school before Sasuke dragged him off to look for their missing father, who was cursed with a demon’s powers, who had his spine severed right in front of Sasuke which led him to make the deal in the first place.

Sasuke clenches his fists, and Sakura frowns, cocking her head to one side. Those luminous green eyes fix upon him again, and he has the uncomfortable feeling she can see right through him.

“What is the matter?” she asks him. “You do not think you deserve to be saved?”

“Why’d you do it?” he asks harshly, though it comes out in a whisper.

She smiles then, pleased at the question. Reaching out—farther into his personal space than he allows even his family—she settles her left hand firmly on his right shoulder. Immediately his entire body feels bathed in light, burning from the inside out, but it’s not a painful sensation so much as disquieting. There’s a very real, very terrifying sense that this woman—this creature---knows every molecule of his being.

When she pulls away, he is torn between leaning in and scuttling away from her as fast as possible.

At last, she tells him in a serene voice, “I saved you because it has been commanded from on high. Because you have a greater purpose.”

Staring into those clear, sure green eyes, Sasuke almost believes it.

I realise it’s an odd choice to have Sakura as Castiel, but I find that comparing Team 7 and Team Free Will, she has the most in common with Castiel. Also, the only brothers of consequence in Naruto are Itachi and Sasuke, so they had to be the Winchesters. I would probably make Naruto Crowley. You know, since he’s BFFs with Sasuke/Dean lol.

Don’t think I’m going to go anywhere with it, but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone :P

栗

[mutable-manifestation]

couldn't make anymore tags so I'm putting more on this post he's the first set:

#dpxdc#Danny only refers to Fright Knight as Frighty the whole time#and they just have to live with that#Damian wants the sword#It's a Lazarus Sword#A flaming Lazarus Sword that starts flaming when you draw it#also bigger once it leaves the sheath???#it makes no sense#he's collecting magic-people's contact info in the background like#“I am ready to reverse engineer this I Need It and I don't care who I have to strong arm into helping”#Yes Damian absolutely did ask for a closer look at the sword before they talked about the incident#Everyone else was not a fan#especially bc “Frighty” gushed about it#(he loves that sword okay)#but to everyone else it was just#so many nightmarish sounds#Danny had to translate#it doesn't help when the translation includes stuff like “soul shredder”#and “personal nightmare dimension”

Danny is going to Gotham high which yay for him!

Problem? Right now he's in the office because he may have punched someone while defending damian and now everyone is waiting for his guardian

But clockwork can't come (humans perceive him a bit...well he just can't) and jazz has an important exam

So who's next in line?

Fright Knight! (Okay, technically he's not the Guardian OF Danny but more guarding Danny but details details)

So Fright Knight appears in all of his villain-esque glory and foaming sword

And everyone kinda freaks out because?? Danny, is your guardian a villain? What do you mean 'depends'?? What does the shrugging mean?? No we can't go back to the punch thing-