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sebastianshaw · 5 years ago

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@sammysdewysensitiveeyes - I felt bad you weren’t getting a lot of Pyro content in canon, so I wrote you some!

The next member of their team was meant to be arriving today. She was going to be a...most unusual addition. She was human. Pyro didn’t like it. The entire POINT of Krakoa was to keep away from humans who would hurt them. And sure this human allegedly very much did NOT want that, it was why Xavier handpicked her to be involved, and Xavier could vet a person inside and out...but Pyro couldn’t help WORRYING. Maybe she wasn’t a conscious plant, but what if someone was using her without her knowing? How was Xavier checking for THAT? Maybe the rest of Krakoa was happy to put their fate in the hands of men like him and Magneto and Sebastian Shaw, but Pyro was of the firm opinion that the guys on top never really had the best interest of the bottom at heart. But that didn’t mean he’d pass up a chance to roast some Verendi pigs, which was what had just been provided---the ship of their new ally had been attacked en route, big surprise, and thus the current crew of the Marauder---Sebastian, Shinobi, and Pyro---had been deployed to intervene. Shinobi kept their own boat safe while Pyro and Sebastian boarded the other---just in time to witness one of the Verendi hurling a sari-clad woman off the deck by her throat. “Allerdyce, take care of the rest,” said Shaw, tearing his shirt and jacket off with his bear---er, bare---hands. Not taking it off, literally TEARING. “Are you kidding?!” Pyro asked, shocked both at Shaw’s apparent intentions and at how beefed up the old bastard was under those tailored suits. Like he had eyes, he could tell the guy was huge, but JEEZUS. “I’m not having my team fail this early,” Shaw said, “And besides--” The rest came out mid-air as he dove into the drink, “--you’re hardly in swimming shape.” Secretly hoping he ‘teammate’ drowned, Pyro returned to the fray, gleefully keeping the Verendi at bay with his flames. That was the easy part. The hard part was not blowing them up in their stupid suits, or boiling them alive, or--- “ALLERDYCE!” he heard the oh-so-charming shout of his new ‘boss’ barking for him, just as the fun was over. “What, did you--” Pyro started to ask as he hustled over, admittedly not as fast as he could have. “Do the damn chest compressions!” Shaw cut him off. The woman, soaking wet and unconscious--or worse--was laid out on the deck. “Why--” “Because at my current strength I will pulverize her bones!” Shaw bellowed. Pyro didn’t like taking orders from Shaw, but he wasn’t about to let this lady die right in front of him either if half of what he’d heard about her was true, no matter what his misgivings might be about involving her in the Marauders. So he duly obeyed with the compressions, as well as mouth to mouth just so Shaw couldn’t. Because f this woman was an ally to mutantkind she deserved better than that. It worked. She gasped, her body jolting. “Alright, there she is” said Shaw, “You keep her conscious, Allerdyce---someone has to steer this ship.” With that, he departed to find the helm and radio Shinobi to let him know all was well, and knock out any remaining hostiles. Pyro glared at his back as he went, but then quickly turned his attention back to the semi-conscious woman, who was moving slightly now, her eyes glazed. She said something unsteadily in a foreign language. Well, in a language that wasn’t English; Pyro had been a foreigner in Southeast Asia and learned it really a matter of perspective. Speaking of that... “That Gujarati, love?” he asked gently. He couldn’t speak it nor understand it, but he thought he recognized it. He’d never got as far as India in his travels as a journalist, but he’d encountered this language in Singapore, Indonesia, and Malayasia. Sounded a bit different from her though, maybe because she was from India directly. Or just because she was terribly waterlogged. She mumbled something else weakly in the same tongue, putting one of her hands to her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak it,” he said, truly apologetic. The was woman silent for a moment, and her eyes closed. Oh no. Had he lost her? God, Shaw was never going to let him hear the end of it! Then she opened them, and said, “I apologize, I do speak English, I just...needed a moment.” “Take two, you earned ‘em,” Pyro smiled relieved. She began sitting up slowly, and Pyro helped her. “I...assume you saved me?” “Well, I helped,” he said, then amended, “Someone else go you out from the drink but I did the rest, getting you breathing again and all.” “Thank you, so much, I really have no idea what to say,” she sounded rather awed. Oh man, he’d forgotten what it was like to be a superhero! He’d never much cared for that life in general, the idea of just DOING things for people for nothing in return, especially people who HATED you for EXISTING as a mutant, but there had been a few times in Freedom Force like this where he felt really GOOD when people were actually grateful. “Aw it’s---it’s nothing, all in a day’s work really,” he said, puffing his chest as best he could, which was nigh-imperceptible given how skinny he was. “You have my deepest gratitude all the same. You also have a good ear---that was indeed Parsi Gujarati. “Ohhh!” Pyro was pleased he’d been right, “Is that why it sounded a bit off from what I heard ‘round Jakarta?” “You do indeed have a good ear! Yes, it’s very distinct. For instance, we use much softer consonants-- They were interrupted by Shaw’s sardonic tone over the intercom, “ I can see our guest is conscious, Mr. Allerdyce, so if you’re quite done flirting, send her to the helm for briefing before we get to the portal. At your leisure, of course.” Pyro did not say ass aloud but it was very, very much written on his face. *** Pyro was waking up waaay to early at Blackstone, specifically in Shinobi’s ridiculously oversized bed, Shinobi himself beside him. Pyro could tell his companion was going to be out cold for a long time yet, and probably wish he’d slept longer when he did wake up. Pyro would have preferred to just stay in bed himself, but nature called. And after a good long piss into the en suite bathroom---kind of surprised that the toilet wasn’t solid gold, although it did have more features than Shinobi’s phone---Pyro himself had yet to adjust to fancy celluars---found himself restless, and undergoing his typical post-drinking cravings for something salty. Kind of weird since wasn’t booze supposed to dehydrate you, but whatever, old man Shaw surely had some kind of super-fancy dried unicorn meat from a lost continent or whatever hanging around somewhere. He just needed to find it. But the place was a maze. Gilded maze, he made a mental note of that for one of his novels as he wandered the huge halls, intending to use it in the internal monologue of the heroine lost in the Marquis’s opulent mansion that nonetheless held an overbearing evil in its walls as potent and palpable in the air as that in his black heart. Actually shit, some of the decor in this place would make for great--- “Wider than a highway, huh?” Pyro had been so lost in cataloguing the fancy bric-a-brac along the way that he’d not noticed it had been joined by a flesh and blood person. Well, maybe flesh and blood, they looked silver. Certainly all the skin he could see was, which was a lot given their short little black robe, though he in his boxers certainly wasn’t about to be scandalized. Wait, silver skin? “Mindmeld, right?” “Shinobi tell you about me?” she was smirking a little. “Yeah, something like that,” he replied. It was suddenly really hard not to say something rude, given WHAT Shinobi had told him, but reminded himself if this woman was fucking Shaw, she deserved PITY more than anything. Plus it wouldn’t do to piss off her off before she told him where she got that coffee cup in her hand. “He didn’t tell me where to find the kitchen though.” “Which one?” Oh god of course there’d be more than one, Shaw probably didn’t want his food prepared in the same area as Shinobi’s guests since they were all people like Pyro. He groaned, lowering his head and burying his long bony fingers in his dandelion puff blond curls, “Just whichever one has some eggs and espresso.” “Come on,” she gestured lightly and turned, leading the way. Damn tall drink of water, might have been taller than Shaw, though far less broad than he was, but more so than Pyro...admittedly, that range probably covered almost everyone on the planet. She didn’t ask his name, so he offered his with some pride, “I’m Pyro, I’m one of the Marauders.” “Neat.” “‘Spect Mr. Shaw has a few things to say about me.” She looked mildly thoughtful a moment, “Uh...no, never mentioned you. I think I’ve heard the Marauders, but not Pyro.” “How about Mr. Allerdyce?” “Definitely not.” Ok, he was kind of insulted now, not by Mindmeld but he took it out on her anyway with a snippy, “Well he hasn’t mentioned you either.” She just gave him a funny look.” “Sorry,” he said abashed at how stupid and spiteful he sounded, “We just don’t get on too well, me and Sebastian.” “What a surprise.” “So you know he’s a pompous asshole.” “Oh yeah, it’s hilarious,” she said, “Like the other day, these two like, total Eurotrash blonds come in, and he told them they were living proof of how inbreeding ruined the royal Austrian family tree or something, I don’t know, and I just told the guy he shouldn’t wear black if he’s not going to clean the semen stains off it first. The girl, her outfit was great, but nothing I could say was going to be worse than that Basic Bitch haircut.” “So what, you two just hang around talking shit about everyone else like we’re dirt on your shoes?!” Any regret he had about being snippy was suddenly gone. “Yeah, pretty much,” she said, her blase tone not changing. He started to say something else but she turned her head to him and said, tone still the same, “Look, if you’re gonna get precious, I can leave you right here. Next person to find you will probably be him, you know. He’s always up crazy early.” It was a potent threat. Normally Pyro was not afraid at all to deal with that hirsute egomaniac, but in his current state, he was not fit for the battle of barbs. “No, no, lead the way,” he sighed. “Cool,” Mindmeld turned her gaze front again and added, “Sorry you’re mad I’m his dick puppet.” If Pyro had a liquid in his mouth he would have spit it out. He must have made some kind of sound, because she asked, “What, Shinobi not mention that?” “He uh...he mentioned it a lot, yeah. “Good,” she smiled at him, and turned away. Weird. They got to small kitchen, very normal looking. So much so that it felt almost surreally out of place. “Drip’s over there,” Mindmeld pointed. Okay, nice, Shaw had a proper espresso machine. No surprise, he probably kept a full roasting machine and French press and other fancy barista shit in HIS kitchen---he was obviously not using THIS one. While he put on the drip, Mindmeld sat down and started playing idly with a phone left on table, obviously hers. Pyro was sure the bowl of Lucky Charms next to it surely wasn’t Sebastian Shaw’s. “You uh, live here?” “Yeah basically,” she did not look up from her phone, “Beats public housing.” Pyro realized he hadn’t thought about how everyone on Krakoa was living; he’d been basically on a boat the whole time himself. “What, is it bad?” he asked, imagining the crowded slums he’d seen in some of his travels, as well as the crappier apartments he’d stayed in, which was most. “Nah, but this is better.” “Yeah well, the rent seems high to me.” “You just have a different landlord.” “Hey, I’m nobody’s kept--” The espresso shot was ready, and it going off gave him a moment to cool down again. “Sorry, there’s nothing wrong with...with you,” he said, after taking his cup and sitting down across from her, “I just feel bad for Shinobi, he says you two used to be..” . “Together? Kinda, yeah. He tell you the part where he left me to die? or before that, where I was stuck in somebody else’s body and he was still ready to put the guy through a depowering machine while I was inside him?” “I, uh...no.” Was there some kind of mistake? He’d thought Shinobi was harmless. He knew the guy was selfish and spoiled, but it was hard to imagine him that cold. “Yeah, I bet not,” she said, her tone still the same, “He doesn’t seem like he has it in him, does he?” “Uh...no.” “Well, even a rat will bite if it’s back is against the wall,” her eyes rose from her phone and met his intensely, “So if you’re in deep shit, don’t count on him to pull you out.” They went back to her phone, “He’s beautiful though so, you know, keep doing what you’re doing, I’m not judging.” “Uh...” Pyro had no idea what to say to this, “So is that why...” He had thought it had been money, since anything Shinobi had was actually coming from Sebastian, but now he wondered if it was for... “Vengeance? Pyro nodded. “Could you think of a BETTER way?” Pyro admitted he could not. “You must be pretty dedicated,” he said, still not able to get the ‘ick’ feeling quite out. It wasn’t the idea of sex for benefits his skin was crawling at, it was sex with SHAW. He supposed he could see the physical appeal if that man wasn’t so personally repulsive, but... “I mean, I just came back to life like this month” she shrugged idly, “I’ve got nothing from before to go back to, I’ve got nothing else going on.” “I don’t know, you look like you got it going on to me,” Pyro gave an exaggerated wink. That made her snort-laugh. Okay, he felt they were good now. And he felt suddenly a lot warmer to her. Not from knowing she had better reasons than he thought---the reasons unsettled him actually---but because of how similar their situations were. A situation doubtless shared by many Krakoans but he hadn’t had a real chance yet to talk to many Krakoans. He had planned to spend today fixing that actually, going and finding out if what few friends he’d had in his life before were here now. Like Dom. Wondered if Mindmeld had any, a Dom or a Mort or a Fred. Kinda doubted it, somehow. “Hey, uh, listen,” he began. She looked up from her phone. “Do you wanna go...check out the island with me? I been at sea since I came back, I don’t know what’s on it, but there’s got to be SOMETHING people been doing all day for fun, right?” She regarded him a long moment. “Yeah,” she finally said, “I’d like that."

#fic #writing #alt marauders #pyro

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s-j-ace · 4 years ago

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The Same Question

Chapter Seven

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10492

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief do what he does?

This is Chapter Seven. Here are Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six

Read on AO3

Kokichi Ouma had always considered himself pretty lucky as far as orphans went.

At least his parents were dead.

Most kids orphaned in Japan were throwaway kids. If you’re a throwaway kid that means your parents came to the orphanage, told the staff that they didn’t have enough money to take care of you, and then left you there. They act like they’re going to come back, but they never do.

Or at least that’s what some kid told him one time when he was five. Then Kokichi watched an older throw away girl beat the shit out of him. She was convinced that her parents were coming back. Except some other kid told Kokichi that she had a twin brother and the parents kept that one, so obviously they already made the leap of deciding which child they loved enough to keep.

Or maybe the girl with the twin and the girl with the violent streak were different girls from different homes. The memory was drowned in the writhing throng of mix and match childhoods Kokichi had lived through. All he really recalled in perfect clarity was what he had thought, watching that kid getting beat up by the throw away girl. That he was lucky that his parents were dead. That there were no adults with that special power over him, who could make him hurt like that girl hurt and hurt others. There was only himself to be concerned about. He was free to do as he pleased without caring what any adults thought about it.

Whatever muddled thoughts he had about the power of his own autonomy didn't last for long though.

When he was about four Kokichi was moved out of his first home. He didn’t really remember it that well, but he had to have made the switch from the 0-3 orphanage into a 4 and up orphanage at some point. He hadn’t liked that first new home. The older kids were too mean to him or too nice to him, and, whichever one it was, he didn’t like to play with them. Kokichi ended up watching what the adults did a lot. At some point he figured out forging the transfer papers.

Between the ages of probably 5 and probably 11, Kokichi did a little trick of his own invention which he liked to call home hopping. Every few months he’d orchestrate a paperwork error or fake out adoption that got him moved from one orphanage or foster home to the next.

At first it had probably been out of some kind of dumb kid logic. Like, oh he didn’t like this one, so he’d just keep going till he found one he liked better.

Except most homes were pretty much the same. Overwhelmed guardians, ornery brats, and ornately constructed hierarchical systems that mostly relied on age as a measure of authority.

Eventually Kokichi realized that the only thing that really changed was the way that he himself was interpreted by whatever new social order he had inserted himself into. Was he the weird kid you just had to pick on? The cute, naive kid you couldn’t resist? The crazy kid who’d do anything you asked him to? Or maybe the all knowing kid who could tell the future? Every time he got to a new home he could just invent himself a new personality to take hold of and play around with until he was bored enough to bother with reforging his transfer papers again. He got so caught up in the habit of new personalities that he just never settled on one home.

That is, until he had the unfortunate displeasure of becoming a resident at the Holy Salvation Society Home for Unprivileged Youth in Towa City.

Ugh. Even the name was super suspicious, looking back on it.

Eleven year old Kokichi hadn’t been suspicious at all. He thought it sounded like some sort of Christian thing (you know, that religion that was in Neon Genesis Evangelion) and he wanted to people-watch some religious kooks, so he constructed a quiet-kid-who-was-secretly-a-super-spy personality to use when he transferred there. At first, it hadn’t seemed all that necessary. The home was basically like any other he had seen before. The guardians were often away, but there were two older girls, probably around 12 or 13, who the rest of the younger kids called Mama and Papa. None of them seemed to mind Kokichi much, as long as he did his chores, but if ‘Mama’ asked him to do something and he said no, ‘Papa’ would look at him with her weird red eyes until he said yes. Pretty average intimidation tactics as far as tween parenting went. Kokichi wasn’t very perturbed.

Then the men started showing up.

Weird, old men who would just watch the kids play during the day. At first, Kokichi assumed they were the guardians of the orphanage, but he overheard the two older girls discussing how they were the ‘patrons’ of the orphanage, which was apparently a different thing.

Then they started asking the kids to do things, like throw a ball at a target. Kokichi flubbed it, though he didn’t really know if he did it on purpose to fit his character or if his eleven year old throwing arm was really just that bad. The older girls did alright though, and so did a couple other kids. They were asked to do more things, like skip rope for as long as they could or race one another to see who was fastest. Soon it was just the Mama and Papa kids that were being asked to do stuff, which Kokichi was fine with because it meant he could get away with more shit like stealing extra sweets or skipping chores while they were busy.

And one night Kokichi was hanging out in the vents. It wasn’t important why, he just kind of hung out in the vents sometimes when he was supposed to be sleeping. Superspy stuff, you wouldn’t understand. So, anyway, he was blowing dust crusties out of the shaft that led into a room he hadn’t really been in before, when suddenly the door opened.

It seemed like some people came in, dragging something heavy.

Obviously, Kokichi crept closer to see what it was.

It was a weird angle, but he could recognize the fancy black shoes of the old men. There were three guys total. Two of them were standing and talking in a language Kokichi didn’t recognize, and then the third guy was just silently sitting in a chair.

Then there was a knock on the door and the talking stopped.

After a while, one of the men said in understandable Japanese, “Come in.”

The door opened and Kokichi craned his neck to see the smaller legs of a child in pajama bottoms walk through it.

“... We didn’t ask for you.” The other standing man said gruffly. “Go get the other one.”

“No, don’t take her. I volunteer instead.” Kokichi recognized the voice of the girl the kids called Papa.

“And why would we take you, when your friend is so much more talented?”

“Because… because she is weak. You said the training is hard. It would destroy her.”

“But not you?”

“No. Not me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I am stronger. I’ll do anything for the orphanage.”

One of the men snorted. Then the other one started speaking in that foreign language again. The two had a hurried discussion. Kokichi hadn't been exactly processing what was happening perfectly at the time, but after he learned English he thought that one of the men had said "use it."

Finally one of them broke out of it and started talking in Japanese again. “... Okay, little girl. I’ll give you a chance to prove that.”

Kokichi saw him move closer, seeing the edge of something shiny the man was holding before he handed it to the girl.

“What’s this for?” She asked.

“Him.” The man paused, presumably to make a gesture not visible from the vent outlet. “See if you can do it in one blow.”

The girl didn’t speak for a bit. Kokichi couldn’t see anyone’s face, but the girl’s fist clenched. Then she took a step forward. And another. And another. Until she was standing right in front of the man in the chair.

“... Is he a bad man?” She asked.

One of the men laughed. “It will not matter,” he replied, “If the men are good or bad.”

And then there was a pause. A silence.

And then came a terrible abomination of a sound.

*SCHLUCK*

And the man in the chair started making these awful, muffled noises. Like he was trying to scream, but could only manage to choke himself.

Accompanied by an unholy gurgling, dark liquid started dripping on the floor. The girl stepped back.

Another noise.

*KLSHHHCH*

The liquid began to gush in rivulets.

Then all the noises from the man stopped, save for the trickling of that opaque, dark liquid onto the floor. The metallic stink of it wafted through the vent opening, encasing itself into Kokichi’s memory forever.

The man who laughed before did so again. “Very good. Very good. We’ll start your training tomorrow, little killer girl. You’ll need energy. Get some sleep.”

“If you can.” The other one said.

Both men laughed now.

The girl dropped the thing the man had handed her - a knife, Kokichi now realized - and walked stiffly to the door.

That was when Kokichi developed his own precient idea of what was happening. His stupid kid brain figured out that the girl was going to get back to the sleeping room and notice he was gone before he figured out the man in the chair had just been murdered right in front of him.

He scooted back through the vents as fast as he could, careful to make as little sound as possible. When he got to the room, he made a bee line for his sleeping spot.

He almost made it too.

Just when Kokichi thought he was in the clear, the door swung open.

The girl stood in the doorway in her ratty, mismatched pajamas. She was covered in a dark liquid, the same color as her empty, haunted eyes. Those eyes were on him now.

“Get back in bed.” She said in the same authoritative tone as always, untouched by her recent misdeeds.

Kokichi would never have been so happy to follow an order in his life, but he couldn’t will himself to move. He was frozen.

Then she said something Kokichi would never forget.

“Do you want to die?

Kokichi jerked into motion at the words, practically falling into the bed and scrambling to get under the covers. He realized that, for the first time in his very young life, he was experiencing true fear.

The girl stood in the doorway for a bit, her dead gaze scanning over the rest of the sleeping children.

Then she entered the room, making her way to the door that led to the kids’ bathroom. She shut it behind her, and after a while Kokichi heard the water pipes groan in the tell tale sigh of their usage as she started a shower.

It was awful. The most excruciating pain in Kokichi’s life had been lying still in that bed, listening to the water move through the pipes, the sound translating into that dark gushing liquid. He wanted to run away. Escape. But that made him realize that it had to be called an escape because he was in fact trapped there. Not trapped like in anime with special plot chains that added to the stakes or the elaborate machinations of a worthy foe that challenged his wits, but by mere circumstance. The secret world of Japanese orphanages, which had seemed for so long like the extended version of a private playground only he was privy to, now seemed like an awful sort of play-pretend where he would be executed if he broke character.

That was the moment when he decided he had to get out of the system.

Kokichi picked out the next foster home as far away from Towa city as he could manage and started planning his escape the second he got there.

The oldest kid was seventeen at the time, but very close to eighteen and was a rather weak leader. They didn’t have a lot of future prospects, so Kokichi played his trump card, showing them how he could forge them an on paper identity that would lead to a guaranteed job once they left the system. From there, Kokichi assumed dominance in the home’s internal hierarchy despite being the youngest there. He plotted an intricate series of forgeries, adoptions, and bargains that ended up freeing all of the kids in the home from the system and thusly freeing them from the supervision of any adults at all. There were a total of ten kids, including Kokichi. Those kids would live under the same roof, take care of each other, and steal shit from time to time, eventually becoming the internationally wanted criminal organization DICE.

And things were good. They were the way Kokichi wanted them to be. He had people around to keep him safe and he kept them safe and they lived far far away from Towa City and old men who watched him and bloody little red eyed monsters who threatened to kill kids for being out of bed.

Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t far away at all. Despite his best efforts, he was somehow in Japan again, a bullet train ride away from Towa City. He had almost walked right into Killer girl at Tanegashima.

That made him mad, he thought. That he was the one who had to hide in the bus while she just got to walk around. Like she was a person and not a murderer. Like she hadn’t even been there when she… when she… Kokichi hadn’t even been able to think about it, sitting in the driver seat, safe behind the reflective bus window. It was like every muscle in his body was impossible to relax, each one tensing up as if trying to hold in the shaken nerves trying to tear their way out from under his skin and keep him trapped where he was no matter what his brain said.

Kokichi had felt fear again. Seeing Killer girl again had forced him to.

He hated that. Hated fear. Hated that his body had to be capable of it, his mind even more so. It was a feeling that existed only to let others control him. Like a double agent to the rest of his otherwise genius brain.

Even as Kokichi had physically shook himself from it’s arresting grip as he got out of the bus to hijack an escape car, the fear didn’t seem to quite leave him. Not even after they had stolen the engine and made the cargo transfers and gotten to the apartment they had rented by their construction hangar. The fear still held strong all through DICE's silent dinner as they listened to the confused ramblings of the local police radios. Kokichi could tell from the rest of DICE’s frantic phone typing that it was leaking out of him and poisoning his every thought and action in a way that was entirely visible to everyone around him. He hated it.

Then he realized that maybe his fear had been doing that undetected for even longer. That now he was always running and he was always trapped in the state of running. Maybe the weird rut he had hit in heist planning was because he had started to feel too safe, and what had been motivating him was running from something instead of toward something. Yeah, that happened in video games all the time. The troupe of the evil, soulless emperor who accumulated power only to not be weak. Those were the most pathetic kinds of villains, letting themselves be controlled by their fear like that. It wasn’t the kind of villain Kokichi wanted to be at all.

Kokichi wanted to be free.

And when Kokichi Ouma wanted something, he made sure he got it.

That’s why, the morning after the JAXA heist, Kokichi dropped the blow-torch he had been using to secure the joints on his part of the plane-to-be’s metal skeleton. He had spent the entirety of the previous night researching leads on the present state of the Holy Salvation Society, and the emaciated appearance the sleep deprivation had lended him was about to work wonders for his escape.

King, who was working on the wing a couple feet away, looked concerned, glancing first at the fizzing torch laying on the concrete, and second up at Kokichi’s bandages. “Is something the matter, Boss?” He asked.

Kokichi had wanted to make sure King was the first to notice something was up with him, so he had divided up the rotating work shifts on the plane to be done in groups of two and made sure the two of them were paired.

“Huh?” Kokichi blinked as if waking from a daze. “Oh, sorry. Kinda… Kinda spaced out there for a sec.”

Ok, that got him. King stood up from where he was crouching and came over, picking up the fallen blow torch and turning it off. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Kokichi said too quickly in just the perfect way. “I mean. Obviously not. I’m your one and only genius supreme leader and all that.”

He snatched the torch from King’s hand, but then when it was held in his own Kokichi just stared at it blankly, as if he had forgotten what he was doing.

“Come on boss, you don’t have to keep that up. If something’s wrong you should let someone know...”

Hah. Good. King was the one who seemed most concerned about him after his little tete a tete with a broken vent, so by pretending to bring him into the fold, Kokichi would effectively be able to curb all suspicion away from his disappearance.

“Really… it’s not anything.” Kokichi shook his head some more. “I think… I don’t know maybe I should get some air? Or something? But I gotta stay and do the part of the plane I promised to… I don’t want anyone to think I’m losing my grip after that fall… Yeah forget the walk thing.”

“No!” King was quick to say, taking the torch back from him. “Here, Boss, I can take care of your welding, you already got a lot of it done. If you need some air, get some air. I’ll cover for you if anyone asks.”

Haha. Easy.

“Wow… fell for my trap hook line and sinker… and now I get to go slack off and do.. I dunno, videos game or something... you.. Shouldaa been more careful. Now you gotta do all my work… ha..” Kokichi willfully made his tone and movements more erratic.

“Yeah, sure thing Boss.” King gave him a couple pats on the back. “Go get some air.”

“I’m fine!” Kokichi pretended to try one more time.

“Don’t come back till you feel better!” King shoved him toward the door this time.

“Ugh. You never believe me about anything…” Kokichi muttered as he walked out of the hangar, and, by the way, totally got away with everything. --- [Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Chabashira-san

Hey degenerate

You need to do something for me

From: Me

Hi Tenko! It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. I hope you’re doing well. I’m honored you would ask for my help with something, I’ll do whatever I can!

From: Chabashira-san

Don’t talk to me more than necessary

I know you haven’t been keeping your soul pure with neo-aikido since I last saw you

So you’re just as bad for me to be in contact with as any other degenerate

I just need to use your brain for something

Seeing as you’re so good at getting into the minds of criminals and all

From: Me

I’m sorry

What can I do?

From: Chabashira-san

One of my students went missing about a month ago

The TPD’s investigation was entirely useless

I can’t find any female PIs who charge a lower rate than you

So you need to find her

From: Me

Ah, Tenko, you don’t need to pay me. I’d be happy to help. I feel bad about the way we left things off.

From: Chabashira-san

If I don’t pay you then it would be like we were friends

Sorry Shuichi but I can’t be friends with a degenerate

From: Me

Ah, ok I understand

From: Chabashira-san

Stop that then

From: Me

Stop what?

From: Chabashira-san

Understanding

I don’t want you to understand me I want you to solve this case

From: Me

Oh, yes of course.

Do you have any information about this missing person?

From: Chabashira-san

Why?

From: Me

To begin the investigation.

From: Chabashira-san

I can’t trust degenerates with a woman’s personal information…

From: Me

Um I think that a name would be enough to start off

From: Chabashira-san

Start off what?

From: Me

The investigation

From: Chabashira-san

Likely story….

From: Me

Tenko how am I supposed to help you find your missing friend if I don’t know anything about her

From: Chabashira-san

Fine.

Her name is Tsumugi Shirogane.

From: Me

That’s all?

From: Chabashira-san

You said that would be enough

Are you a liar now too

From: Me

No! It’s fine.

I’ll get started right away. --- Shuichi Saihara figured that starting small with one case at a time wasn’t so bad after the massive hit his reputation had just taken. Honestly doing anything at all was better than how he had felt when he got home from Tanegashima to the only voicemail mail on his business line being a call from his uncle asking Shuichi if he was okay and also if he was keeping his old case files organized. Shuichi had lied of course, as one does to the only blood tie who cares about them, saying that things were fine.

They hadn’t been fine.

It seemed like things hadn’t been fine until he got a text from his old patrol partner, Tenko Chabashira. They had worked together in the short period of time before Shuichi got promoted to detective on the Towa city police force. Now, he was walking home from a bar in the lower district of Towa, where apparently Tenko’s missing friend had been employed until very recently. Shuichi had spent a few hours observing the goings on of the bar and picking apart the behaviors of possible suspects, trying to detect any of the patterns of human traffickers. It had been the most normal he had felt in weeks.

It was kind of awful that things only seemed fine to Shuichi in the middle of an incident. When there was a murder that had to be solved, a theft that had to be stopped, or a missing person to be found, he was in his element. He didn’t have to think about personal anxieties, like his friends leaving him or not having his hat around or being put on red notice by Interpol for aiding and abetting acts of grand larceny which could at any moment be decided by the Towa District Court to be reason enough to issue a warrant for his arrest, after which he would be forced to compile a case for his own innocence as he wasted away in the archaic Japanese prison system.

Yeah, he hadn’t had time to think about that in the bar, because he had been on the job. But now he was walking home and that meant he was alone with just the movement of his feet and the circling his various anxieties.

He pulled out his phone, opening his messaging app.

[Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey

Are either of you free to call right now?

I’m walking home alone from a kind of shady area

From: Maki

Kaito’s still at work figuring how to fly a rocket ship without an engine

I’m calling you now

Shuichi’s phone lit up with the call screen before he could even finish reading Maki’s text.

“Hey.” He answered.

“Hi.” Maki replied. “Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“No, that’s alright.” Shuichi denied the need for help automatically, “I’m already pretty close to the office. I just had the sudden thought of ‘what if I’m being followed?’ And then I asked myself what would Kaito do? And then the answer to that would be to shout out into the street ‘stop following me!’ even if I didn’t actually know someone was there. But then what Kaito would tell me to do would be to call a friend because you shouldn’t try to do things alone unless you’re him. So then, you know, I decided to call someone.”

“Good instinct.” Maki commented after letting Shuichi ramble. She took on a lighter tone of voice. “But if Kaito was walking home alone, he might think the thing following him was a ghost and pass out.”

Shuichi laughed. “Yeah… Hey, maybe why Kaito really wants to go to space is that no one’s died up there yet so there’s no ghosts...”

“That’s a good theory.” Maki joked, “Although I’m pretty sure some people have to have died in space…”

Oh. That was a new worry. Kaito could just. Not make it to the ISS. There were so many points in space travel where everything could go wrong. What if he went to space and just… never saw them again?

Shuichi kept that thought to himself, thinking that Maki privately worried about that already… Could he say something reassuring instead?

“Well, I’m pretty sure no one’s ever died on the ISS at least.” He tried.

“Yeah, probably not.” Was her reply. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Has anyone died around you lately?”

“Oh, uh. No.” Maki was probably referring to the phenomena she and Kaito had observed where sometimes Shuichi just found out about and solved murders while he was out doing everyday things, like going to the grocery store to deliver a case file detailing a series of embezzlements to the store’s owner who had hired him. But it didn't actually happen as often as they seemed to think! “I’ve got a missing person case though.”

“Ah. Thus the walking in a shady part of town.” Maki deduced.

“Right…”

“You know, I’m off assignment right now. If you need some muscle on this one, I’m available…” She offered.

“Ah, I don’t want to inconvenience you during your break…”

“When has that ever stopped you before?” It sounded like a quip, but Maki said it rather harshly. Shuichi remembered all the cases he had asked for her time on before and felt guilt overcome him.

“Sorry, I really do bother you a lot… You really don’t have to-”

“Wait. No. That’s not what I meant.” Maki sounded frustrated. “I just… Do you remember what I was trying to tell you after we parked in Tanegashima? Before the clowns happened?”

“Oh, I think so.” Shuichi had almost forgotten Maki had promised to ‘talk about this later.’ He’d kind of gotten side tracked by the whole space center being robbed, finding out he was red listed, and having a panic attack about not being able to complete his investigation and help Kaito get his engine back thing. But now that he thought about it, his and Maki’s conversation had been rather important. “You said you didn’t want to be alone again…”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I did say that…” Maki trailed off. Shuichi let her think for a moment, because he knew that sometimes Maki had a hard time verbalizing her emotions right away. “Well, yeah that’s how I feel, I guess. What I wanted to say was… Well, I think that with Kaito leaving soon and all… We should make a more concerted effort to… y’know, look after each other.”

“Of course.” Shuichi had honestly been very worried the past few days about how Maki would handle Kaito’s being gone, even if his mission was being delayed another few months. “I feel the same way…”

“... That’s a relief.” Maki paused again. “You know, last month, when I was away on assignment, I was really worried that you were mad at me.”

“What?” Shuichi recalled the period of time, a little miffed, “Why would I have been mad at you?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, I guess.”

“It matters if it matters to you. Did I do anything that-”

“No. I mean. The reason why I thought you were mad wasn’t why I brought it up. I mean that… Well, thinking that you were mad at me was hard, because I didn’t know how to talk to you when I thought you were mad at me. And it made me think that when Kaito is gone… That I would be alone if I let something like that get in the way of us being friends. Because you two are the reason I’m not alone, you know?”

“Yeah…” Shuichi remembered before he met Kaito and Maki, when he had managed to constantly keep everything that was troubling him under the lockdown of his black baseball cap. Being able to talk to your friends, have people by your side who understood what you were going through and wanted to help you no matter what… It felt like a revelation. “I feel the same way about you two…”

“You know…” Maki cut herself off with a sigh. “Never mind, that’s a weird thing to say.”

“No, go ahead.” Shuichi was rounding the corner onto the block he lived on. “I’m here to listen.”

“Well… it’s just that.” Maki took another pause to think through her words. “You know, I don’t think I even realized that I was a person until college. I thought of myself like… like a thing. I mean. I probably already told you this… but before I met you guys I essentially felt like I was a tool.”

“Oh, Maki…” Shuichi’s heart ached for teenage Maki, who never had the chance to refuse the life thrust upon her…

“But I remember… We were lying in the courtyard together after doing a few pushups… And you and Kaito were talking about something silly… I think it was your favorite movie… And I remember thinking that I didn’t have a favorite movie yet, because I hadn’t had time to watch a lot of them when I was younger, so I would have to ask you guys to show me yours… And that seemed so amazing to me. The fact that I was a normal college age girl who could go out with her friends and watch movies and then choose which one I liked. And I realized that other people just did that all the time. But now I was ‘other people.’ Like, I was people, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.” Shuichi was coming up on his door now, and pulled out his key. “Although I think you ought to give yourself more credit. You’ve had to be really strong to get to where you are right now and you did a lot of it on your own, we just were there to-”

Shuichi realized that his door was already unlocked.

“Shuichi? Are you there?” Maki’s voice had a worried edge to it over the speaker.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Shuichi said, putting his keys away as a cold thread of dread shot its way up his spine to wrap in a vice grip around his brain. “I think my mom and dad let themselves into my house…”

“I’m on my way.” Maki replied immediately, hanging up on her end. Probably to get in her car. Unless specified otherwise, Shuichi only ever mentioned his parents being back in town as a code to signal where he was and that he needed help as soon as possible. It was a good code phrase, because it seemed innocent enough if you didn’t know Shuichi’s parents had abandoned him to his mom’s brother when he was ten.

Shuichi put his phone away and only spent a second pondering whether he should wait for Maki before hesitantly pushing open the door. The key to opening a well oiled door silently is to apply pressure through the doorknob to the door in a different direction than you are opening it. Shuichi did so, peeking carefully into his own house.

The living area which Shuichi used to meet with clients was empty, but Shuichi could see up the staircase behind it that led to his main office. The door was closed, and Shuichi couldn’t remember if he had left it that way when he had gone out earlier that day… but there was light coming from beneath it. He had definitely turned off the lights.

Shuichi took off his shoes, not only to keep his floors clean, but also to make his footsteps quieter as he made his way over to the staircase. He made sure to avoid the steps in the stairs that he knew creaked from time to time. This wasn’t the first time he’d snuck into his own office, but the experiences he recalled didn’t reassure him about what could be behind that door at all.

He paused before it, worried that the sound of his heartbeat would give him away. No shadows moved under the doorway, and Shuichi couldn’t hear any movement behind it.

Maybe whoever it was had already left… Although he wouldn’t know for sure until he…

Shuichi opened the door.

“Hey.” A clown was leaned back in Shuichi’s office chair with his feet on Shuichi’s desk.

Shuichi shut the door.

He blinked. Submerged in darkness once more.

Uh. He should probably. Open the door again. Because the clown was still in there.

He opened the door again

The clown was gone.

“Rude.”

DICE’s face swung down from the top of the door frame and the thief did a flip as he jumped down from where he had apparently been standing on the ceiling.

Shuichi almost fell back down the stairs, but weirdly enough DICE grabbed his arm.

“Hey now, don’t go falling for me yet!” He exclaimed, seeming strangely enthused at Shuichi’s presence as the detective flailed to rebalance himself.

“What are you- You? What? I-” This could not be happening. Why did this keep happening to him? Could things stop happening to him actually.

“Wow, Detective, I didn’t know you were so dedicated to finding me that you’d break into a poor old man’s house just to catch a glimpse of me…”

“This- this is my house!” Was all Shuichi could think to say.

“Oh, Saihara.” The thief shook his masked head. “Give yourself some credit. Poor? Sure. Old? Well... now that I think of it, look at those eye bags...”

What. What was. What was happening. Why.

“Please leave.” Shuichi said, retracting his arm from the thief’s loose grip.

“Oh?” The thief tilted his head. “Aren’t you gonna rough me up some more? Take me in to the coppers?”

“No.” Shuichi walked past him, looking into the office to see if anything had been stolen.

“Did you reconsider my offer of employment then? Welcome to the te-”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Everything seemed fine, except… some of the files he had organized earlier that day were out of order. “Were you going through my case files?”

“What, those are files? Seemed more like to do lists to me...”

“Please leave.”

“Hmmm. I’ll consider it. Maybe you should beg.”

Shuichi took the case files that had been messed up and arranged them back in order. It looked like these were some cases that his uncle had handled while Shuichi was still in high school.

“Or, you know, hand me one of these fun little picture books you have here.” The intruding man grabbed one of the case files from the homicide section. “Ooh,” He said, turning the file around to show Shuichi a picture of a man who had been murdered with an ax, “This version of red riding hood is so colorful!”

“No!” Shuichi tried to grab it from him, but the man dodged his grip a few times before Shuichi snatched his wrist and wrestled the file from him.

“Owie… mean…” The man whined like he had just before he started bawling on the plane… Hey, Shuichi had never gotten that handkerchief ba- not the time.

“These files contain the personal information of my clients.” He stated, finding his voice easily firm when it came to defending someone other than himself. “I can’t let you look at them without permission.”

“What about a case in this office that contains my personal information?” The thief’s voice was somber now. “Can I look at that?”

Shuichi was starting to tune the thief out as he returned the case file to the proper location. “I gave my file on DICE to-”

“No.” The thief said. “Not DICE’s information. My information.”

Shuichi blinked, turning around to look the thief in the eyes for the first time. What was that intense look? Was the thief’s seriousness an act or...

“... Your information?” He asked, cautiously curious. Had this man been involved with one of his cases without Shuichi’s knowledge?”

“January 12, 2010.” The man said the date as if it were a grave confession.

… That would’ve been one of Shuichi’s uncle’s cases. Shuichi had just organized them at his uncle’s behest, so it took him only a second to find the file the thief was looking for.

It was marked ‘Religious Conspiracy.’

Shuichi opened it, skimming the case summary. This was…

Shuichi slammed the file shut and held it to his chest.

“Sorry. You definitely can’t have this one.”

The thief tilted his head down, the shadows of his mask being accentuated menacingly by the angle. “Are you trying to protect her?” He inquired.

What? How did he-

“You already knew, didn’t you?” He went on. “That your friend was a murderer.”

Shuichi tried to steel the frantic questions racing through his head out of his expression. “...What do you want with Maki’s file?”

“I want the murders to stop.” The clown popped his head up so that light hit the corner of his mask’s smile. “They’re bad for my business you see…”

“Maki doesn’t kill people anymore.” Shuichi insisted. “The Holy Salvation Society was stopped almost a decade ago.”

“You have no idea how big this gets.” The man made a move to step forward.

Shuichi stepped back.

Then there was a bolt of red.

Maki burst in through the door and slammed the thief to the wall of Shuichi’s office throat first.

“Maki, you don’t have to-” Shuichi, started, but Maki didn’t look at him.

Her patented, red-eyed death glare was fixed on the clown.

“What did you just say?” she demanded. --- Kokichi Ouma had been making some pretty stupid mistakes in the past month, but the ones he made today really had to take the cake.

In researching the Holy Salvation Society, he had managed to discover the orphanage-assassin-cult thing they had going on had been busted up by the Haibara and Co Detective agency about a decade ago.

The first mistake was thinking that the detective agency was under the same management it had been at the time of the case.

This had led to his second mistake, getting excited when Shuichi Saihara showed up unexpectedly. It really seemed like this was just his office now. Again, Kokichi had to convince himself that Saihara wasn’t some sort of super human detective machine in order to be properly disappointed with the fact that he was allying himself with a murderer right now.

Third mistake was waiting around long enough for said murderer to show up.

And now Kokichi Ouma was being choked to death by the demon from his childhood nightmares.

Fun!

“What did you just say?” The killer demanded as Kokichi struggled to relieve the pressure in his windpipe. It was strange to him how easy the action was. Seeing Killer girl from thirty meters away was enough to paralyze him, but somehow the struggling came naturally to him when she was trying to kill him.

“Y-you should know better than anyone.” Kokichi choked out, pulling the words entirely from his ass. He had managed to prey on Saihara’s detectively curiosity to identify the file he needed. Threading in something along the same lines should work to aid his escape, right? “A pawn like you… Did you ever think about how many pieces were left on the board after you fell?”

“Say something that means something before you die.”

Oof. Tough ask, Killer girl.

“Those men. Do you know what happened to them? After they went to jail?” If Kokichi were in a regular state of mind right now he might’ve asked the question out of curiosity, but right now the focus of his every thought was towards getting the hell out of here alive. He knew that making it sound like he knew the answer already made it more valuable to keep him not dead.

Now that he was doing plans again, Kokichi faked that he was choking before he actually ran out of air. Killer girl dropped him and he took an exaggerated amount of time to catch his breath. Killer girl got impatient, turning to Saihara.

“What does he mean?” She asked.

“Um… Hold on.” Saihara flipped through the file. “Uh… It looks like most of the Holy Salvation guys died in prison.”

“Tell her what dates.” Kokichi suggested, mostly just to buy time. He was now making an effort to sit in a relaxed position and trying not to think about how much his throat hurt instead of making an ill timed run for it.

“Don’t tell him what to do.” Killer girl ordered him.

“Wait… No, he’s right.” The detective had noticed something. “These dates are… strangely close together… And what’s worse is they’re all marked as ‘suicide’ which, if they were killed before their trial date is just another word for...” He looked down at Ouma. “You think that they were silenced? As some kind of conspiracy?”

Well, now he did. Thanks for that juicy tidbit from your detectivey brain, Saihara.

“Wow, someone catches on fast…” He looked up at Killer girl, meeting her eyes with a derisive look despite every nerve cell in his body screaming at him to run as far away as possible from her. “Just to be clear, I was talking to Shuichi.”

Her fist tightened.

Hahahaha okay as much as Kokichi loved getting threatened within an inch of his life, he really should be going now.

“So are you going to give me the file or not?”

“Not.” Saihara’s response was given the undertone of a growl as Killer girl spoke at the same time, as if the question were directed at her.

“Alright.” Kokichis shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I guess I’ll be taking my investigation elsewhere.” He stood up and dusted himself off, but Killer girl took a step towards him.

“What investigation?” She demanded to know.

Kokichi almost flinched at the harsh tone. Killer girl was giving him a death glare. She didn't seem to recognize him at all. Probably because he had a mask on. Which was a good thing. Except it was also weird, because he knew exactly what she was. Kokichi forced himself to ignore her question, because yuck, murderer, looking at Saihara instead. “Remember how I told you I was a detective in Paris? Well it’s definitely the truth! I’m working a top secret investigation about the new cult activity in Towa City… Interested?” Whoa, wait what? What was Kokichi asking him if he was interested for?

Saihara’s face twisted with concern, and his eyes darted to Killer girl’s for a second. Ew. She wasn’t his girlfriend was she? He could do better. Like. A lot better.

He looked back at Kokichi with some sort of new resolve hardening his gaze. “What can you tell us?” He asked.

Woow, okay… God Saihara was the worst. Somehow having a serial killer bff just made him more interesting. That so wasn’t fair at all. Kokichi just wanted to pick him apart and see what made him tick… OH OH OH. What about a? Could this possibly be? A team up?

“Wow, this is so sudden…” Kokichi crossed his arms, raising one to fan his face demurely while the other snuck into the hidden pocket that he had started keeping smoke bombs in after those last few close calls with the detective. “Asking to join my organization, now, of all times? In this economy?”

Killer girl looked like she was ready to punch a hole in his chest.

Shuichi frowned, “I didn’t say-”

“Oh, but.” Kokichi palmed one of the smoke bombs, raising the hand it was in up to cross his arms the other way and make a face that indicated he was thinking. “Getting into DICE is a prestigious thing… the national exams aren’t for another half a year…” Kokichi tried to convey his ear to ear grin through his mask. “But I like you, Detective, so I’ll give you a different kind of test.”

Saihara looked rather aggrieved at the notion. “Are you going to make me play rock paper scissors again?”

Haha… Good times… “No… This is a different kind of test.” Kokichi extended his hand forward, pointing it at Shuichi. “I’ll come find you, when you pass.”

Then he threw down the smoke bomb.

Just before it exploded, Kokichi saw Killer girl rear back out of the corner of his eye.

He dodged her punch just in time as the smoke enveloped both of them.

He heard the crunch of the wall behind him.

He forced himself to move through the shock the sound sent through his bones.

By the time she got her fist out of the wall, Kokichi would be far, far away from this place.

After all, the daring escape was one of his better skills as a master thief.

It had been since before he could even remember. --- Shuichi Saihara was rather outgoing for someone with social anxiety. It was an outcome of his job as a detective, which required the maintenance of a large web of contacts. But on a good day Shuichi had less than ten friends in the whole world, and on a bad day he had two. Those two friends were Kaito Momota and Maki Harukawa and they were the most important people in the world to him.

That was why, as the smoke cleared in his office and he realized that Maki had punched a hole in his wall, the thought didn’t even occur to him to be mad at her.

“Damn it.” She growled, extracting her arm from Shuichi’s wall, before giving chase to the thief that had just run out the office door.

There she goes again…

Like Shuichi said before, Maki liked to muscle her way through problems. Although he wasn’t sure running after DICE was the best course of action after his own track record, Maki’s ability to chase after criminals was definitely a huge asset in most mystery solving scenarios… Shuichi had kind of been dragging Maki and Kaito into his cases ever since he met them the first year of college. Shuichi would use his detective brain, Maki would use her body guard muscles, and Kaito would use his… Well, it actually was kind of a wildcard whether or not Kaito would do something helpful on most investigations. Sometimes he was mostly moral support, other times he would have the one obscure trivia fact from his astronaut training that would blow the case wide open, or he would make the call that Shuichi didn’t know how to. Other times… ok this kind of sounded bad, but sometimes Kaito would be bait in an elaborate trap to capture the criminal they were investigating. Usually he volunteered though! Or Maki would promise to bake something for him…

Any which way, he was good to have around. At the very least, without him, Shuichi was left in his office alone as Maki gave chase. Kaito would probably suggest they chase after Maki, but Shuichi knew that more often than not they just got in her way. So, instead of giving chase, Shuichi double checked his office to make sure bringing up Maki’s file hadn’t been a distraction while the thief grabbed something else. Nothing was missing except the chunk of Shuichi’s wall Maki had punched through, so Shuichi turned off the lights in his office and went back downstairs to the main living area. He turned on the lamp, going over to sit on one of the couches his clients usually used.

He cracked open the case file.

January 12, 2010.

Shuichi had known his uncle had handled this case. Maki had told him as much during their second year at TCC. So theoretically, he knew that he had this case file somewhere in the office, but he had never thought to look for it before.

Analyzing the details confirmed things that he already knew. The Holy Salvation Society was a religious cult that trained child assassins under the guise of philanthropic patronage to a local orphanage.

He remembered Maki whispering in a distant tone of voice meant for only him and Kaito as her words exposed her past under the cover of a starlit night. She spoke of the old men who assessed her and her friend. How she had been certain that the training would destroy the only person in the world who mattered to her. How she had been desperate to save the orphanage. How she had come back from her training to visit one day just to find out her friend died in a car crash. That she hadn’t been there to protect her at all. That everything she had done was pointless. That death just happened. It was inevitable and there was nothing she could do about it, not even the death wrought by her own hands.

… What did DICE have to do with this case? The trail of misdemeanors attributed to them went back farther than the Holy Salvation Society bust, which was strange… It was one of the reasons Shuichi had found the organization so suspicious, having gone unchecked for so long… especially now that he knew the leader was so young. If Shuichi had to place him, he would pin him as maybe in his mid twenties. That would mean he would’ve been just a kid when the DICE thefts started occurring… Maybe he was a copycat for the original? Or maybe it was some sort of legacy organization-

Wait a second, Shuichi was on red notice. He shouldn’t be looking into DICE anymore if he didn’t want to end up arrested… But if DICE was somehow involved with the Holy Salvation Society, could Shuichi risk looking into it?

… There wasn’t really a question. If it was for Maki there was no other option.

The door opened, startling Shuichi. He turned to see Maki standing in the doorway. She looked at him. Then she closed the door again. The doorbell rang.

“Uh, come in,” Shuichi called, a little perplexed.

Maki opened the door again, entering to stand just inside and close the door behind her.

“I… didn’t catch him.” She reported. A shadow in the doorway obscured her face, but Shuichi could see the hand that held the doorknob very clearly. Her knuckles were curled and made white by tensed muscles. The faintest scuff marks from her encounter with Shuichi’s wall were starkly red against them. “Sorry. About your wall.”

“It’s alright.” Shuichi assured her, shutting the case file and putting it down on the coffee table while he stood to greet her. “Come in, take off your shoes, sit down.” He invited.

Maki took another second, gripping the doorknob and looking down at her hand. Then she took a deep breath and followed his directions, taking off her shoes one at a time and walking one foot in front of the other to sit on the couch he had gestured to.

“Do you want something to drink?” Shuichi asked. Maki seemed… rather distressed at the sudden resurgence of the Holy Salvation Society case… and that was completely understandable and Shuichi needed to make sure Maki knew that it was completely understandable. Sometimes doing something physical like drinking a glass of water could distract his brain long enough for him to calm down.

“No.” Maki replied, not seeming to think about it very long. “I don’t. You don’t need to…” Maki’s frozen expression broke and she put a hand over her face to cover it. “Sorry, I’m just processing a lot of… a lot of feelings right now.”

“Yeah, okay. You’ve just been through a lot.” Shuichi sat down next to her, wanting to lend whatever emotional support he could right now, but he wasn’t sure he was the best person for it. “Do you want to call Kaito?”

“No.” She said very quickly. “No. He… He’d… He feels responsible for me. I’ve… Shuichi I’ve worked so hard to not have to look up to him. To view myself as his equal… And there’s… nothing he can do about this. It would only make him worry…”

“Well, not telling him is making me worry about you…” Shuichi knew that being open about her emotions was something that Maki had worked very hard to do for a very long time. He remembered her mentioning that it was one of the things her therapist asked her to work on.

“Yeah, well. You already worry about everything anyway.” She asserted rather gruffly.

Oof… She got him there…

“Sorry that was…” Maki paused, bringing her hands down to grip at her knees. She was chewing her lip so hard Shuichi was afraid it would start bleeding. “Not what I wanted to say.”

“... That’s okay. A lot just happened to you.”

“... Yeah.” It was clear Maki was keeping a lot of her thoughts inside her head. “I just… I don’t want Kaito to have to feel responsible for me right now. If I told him about this… this fucking… it’s just… He’d try to take it all on, you know?”

“Yeah…” Shuichi said. “Part of why you gotta love him…”

“I know, I just…” Maki’s face screwed tight and she looked away. “I just don’t want him to feel like he has to love me. I don’t know why he bothers…”

“Because you’re an amazing person who cares about him and he doesn’t care about what happened in your past.”

“... I love him so much, Shuichi.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I want him to be safe. I … need to take care of him…”

“I know.” Shuichi remembered the last time he had seen Maki this emotional. She had been so worried before she confessed to Kaito. So certain that she was about to mess up everything good in her life forever. “He wants to take care of you too. So do I. You’re important to us.”

“I never… I never did anything to deserve people like you in my life…”

“Maki, we-”

“Stop. You’re gonna make me-” Maki stopped herself, taking a couple deep breaths. She lifted her head to stare straight ahead, every muscle in her face tensed.

“It’s okay to cry Maki…”

“I. I can’t.” She took another breathing break. “I don’t want to… I know I’m supposed to be more honest with my… With the way that I feel. About things. And that it’s a sign of recovery to know that… that what happened to me really was that bad… but I still can’t bring myself to cry about it. It seems wrong. Like. I don’t deserve it. Somehow. Like, I wasn’t the real victim in all of it. I. I made victims, Shuichi. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t feel like one.”

“Maki, you were thirteen when it started. Imagine you met a thirteen year old girl now and she told you that what happened to you happened to her. Would you blame her?”

“But I chose…”

“Would you blame her?”

“I… No. I think I would…” Her grip on her knees tightened. “ I would help her. I would put an end to it.”

Shuichi wondered if he should ask her to elaborate on that or if it only make her more upset…

Maki kept going when he didn’t respond.

“You said that… that those men might’ve been silenced. That there was something… Something bigger behind it that could still… still be...” She looked at him, and for the first time, looking head on into her gaze, Shuichi could see the real, palpable terror that consumed Maki’s being in that moment. He had never seen his friend this scared about anything in her entire life. “Do you really think that? That… that it could be true?”

“Ah, well… It’s unlikely that anything on the scale of what the Holy Salvation Society used to be could operate in Towa City now…” That was the optimistic side, but Shuichi didn’t want to lie to her… “But I don’t know that we can say for sure whether or not some sort of coverup occurred or who could have been involved in it…”

She blinked at him, then looked down at her hands as if she noticed that they were shaking for the first time. “Things were supposed to be better now…” She cut herself off, grimacing. “God… this not knowing… it’s the worst feeling in the world… Is this how you feel about everything all the time?”

Shuichi wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a crack about his anxiety or a genuine question, so he shrugged, “More or less.” He said. Then he thought maybe that was the wrong thing to say. “But, I mean, your concern that the evil religious cult of assassins you grew up in may still exist in some form in our home town seems like a more reasonable thing to have anxiety about than my tendency to faint like a goat if someone looks at me the wrong way.”

Maki squinted at him. “Maybe… but it’s not your fault, that that stuff’s so serious to you, you know… My therapist would tell you… ‘it’s the childhood trauma, Shuichi.’”

Shuichi knew that the typical definition of a trauma was a life threatening experience, but life threatening experiences had seemed normal to his profession since he picked up his first murder case at 14, so he wasn’t really sure if they counted. He kept that thought to himself, though, because he didn’t want that to be the way that Maki thought he thought about her real childhood trauma.

“What you’re going through isn’t your fault either.”

“I… I know that.” Maki frowned. “I should know that. Logically, I know that. I’ve… I’ve been to all the counselling they assigned me. I have a therapist. Things are supposed to be better, but…”

It didn’t look like she could finish the thought, so Shuichi made his best guess.

“...But now you’re not even sure if it is supposed to be better, because the case may not even be closed?”

Maki nodded.

Shuichi made a decision, right there and then.

“Maki, can I touch your hand right now?”

She nodded again.

Shuichi put his hand on one of hers. Her hand felt as cold as ice and as hard as a rock under his grip, but Maki’s shoulders seemed to relax, reassuring Shuichi that it was the appropriate gesture to precede what he was about to say.

“I want to make you a promise.” He said, mustering up every ounce of firmness in his voice for his next words. “I’ll look into this case for you, and I won’t rest until I find the truth that will put you at ease.”

Maki looked at him now, and Shuichi could see the fragment of hope in her eyes.

“... Idiot.” She corrected the soft look with a harsh tone of voice. “Making a promise like that… you’re just as bad as him.”

“Maki…” Shuichi thought about how to phrase this. “You don’t have to handle them all on your own again.”

“I… I know.” She looked away again and Shuichi thought maybe she was trying not to cry again too.

He retracted his hand.

“Here I’ll get you some water.”

Shuichi stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

“Shuichi.”

He turned around at the sound of his friend’s voice. Maki still sat on the couch, hunched up and tense. But her face was tilted towards him, and in the lamp light Shuichi could see the glistening outline of a tear running down one side of her face.

“Thank you.” She said, tersely.

“Of course.” Shuichi replied, his heart warming.

It felt good to be useful for something after all. --- [Log of Text Messages from Tenko Chabashira’s Cellular Device]

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Hi Tenko. I hope you’re having a good day. Here is a file with a list of leads from observing criminal activity and behaviors in the vicinity of Ms. Shirogane’s daily transit from her home to her work to your dojo to the store she got her groceries and to the store she got her cosplaying supplies. It would be helpful for the investigation if you could tell me if any of these leads sound familiar to you so that I may investigate more directly.

[Shuichi Saihara sent a file “Shirogane_Leads.doc”]

Also, just letting you know that an associate of mine has brought to my attention a case that may make me unavailable at times to give you updates on Ms. Shirogane’s case. If this is not amenable to you, I can recommend another PI that could take up the case based on the leads I have provided.

From: Me

That is unacceptable

I demand that you drop this other case immediately and put all of your attention on finding Tsumugi

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

I am sorry. I know this is rather unprofessional of me, but this associate is a close friend of mine and I feel that I must prioritize her case above all else.

From: Me

Wait it’s a girl you’re helping?

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Uh yes

From: Me

Fine

You have Tenko’s permission

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Thank you?

From: Me

I read your document

I have seen those people in the yellow robes around too

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Really?

From: Me

Yes

From: Saihara (DEGENERATE)

Is there anything you can tell me about them?

From: Me

They are

Annoying

#shuichi x kokichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi danganronpa #oumasai #saiouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa #drv3 #writing #i know i just did a bunch of art but this is still updating weekly on ao3 haha #sorry if i'm being cringe on main 😔

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recentanimenews · 5 years ago

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Bookshelf Briefs 5/28/20

Dr. STONE, Vol. 11 | By Riichiro Inagaki and Boichi | Viz Media – Balloons! Yes, Dr. STONE is taking it upon itself to do something it does best, which is show off the gorgeous vistas of this not-really-that-explored future Japan it takes place in. And that means hot air balloons. It also means speedboats! But alas, just because Senku is a scientist does not mean he can cook. So they use some of the last remaining fluid to un-stone a butler-cum-chef-cum-everything, Francois, who is flamboyant and also a lot of fun. There’s actually some really good humor in this volume as well, be it the reporter getting her camera and its undercutting right afterwards, or Senku’s Einstein impersonation. This remains one of the essential Jump titles. – Sean Gaffney

Dungeon Builder: The Demon King’s Labyrinth Is a Modern City!, Vol. 2 | By Rui Tsukiyo and Hideaki Yoshikawa | Seven Seas – After wrapping up the cliffhanger from the first volume (he names his first monster girl, which gives her the power-up (and bust expansion) she needs to win), the cast gets down to the nitty-gritty of what he wants to do: build a city, not a dungeon, which feeds on positive emotions. Of course, there are a few problems. Location, labor costs, the neighboring demon lords, and of course Marcho’s impending death, which she seems to have accepted more than Procel has. This remains sort of mid-tier manga—not interesting enough to stand out, but the pages turn easily, and you could do worse. Also, brilliant pun for the back-cover blurb. – Sean Gaffney

Éclair Blanche: A Girls’ Love Anthology That Resonates in Your Heart | By Various Artists | Yen Press – The second of the Éclair anthologies to come out over here, this one seems to focus more attention on love that is already in bloom when the story begins than love that we see the start of. There’s a nice mix of funny, heartwarming, sad, and generally melancholic. Some highlights are “Azalea Corner,” about a minion’s crush on the arrogant ojou she follows; “The Unemployed Woman and the High School Girl,” which should be awful but is by Canno so is cute instead; and “That Summer Won’t Come Again,” about a girl trapped in her sister’s past who bonds with a senpai and learns to swim again. There’s good and not-so-good here, but overall well worth buying. – Sean Gaffney

Éclair Blanche: A Girls’ Love Anthology That Resonates in Your Heart | By Various Artists | Yen Press – This is the second Éclair anthology, but aside from two continuations, all the stories here are new. The quality varies, and it seems the better stories are in the front. The first story, Fly’s “Flowers in a Storm,” sets the tone for bittersweet, ambiguous endings with the tale of a first kiss that comes too late. There are also several stories about unrequited love for a friend who loves someone else, be it another girl, an idol, or a guy. Kabocha’s “Though Summer Won’t Come Again” is a standout, about a girl who assumes the senpai she’s developed feelings for prefers her older sister, as everyone else seems to. Unfortunately, I found the stories toward the end of the volume to be less enjoyable, particularly the final one, which includes the most awkward teacher-student embrace I have ever seen. Still, I will read the next installment when it comes out! – Michelle Smith

I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love | By Minta Suzumaru | Futekiya (digital only) – Yoshino Kiritani is a beautiful 30-year-old salaryman who happens to be both gay and a virgin. With no relationship prospects on the horizon and wanting to finally have sex, he goes to a gay bar, meets a charismatic college student named Rou, and sleeps with him. The back-and-forth that follows between these two guys is so well done. Rou is a notorious playboy with a hot-and-cold routine he has employed many times to manipulate his conquests into falling for him and confessing their feelings. He tries this on Yoshino, even though he’s actually serious about him, but it doesn’t work. Self-effacing Yoshino genuinely thinks Rou wants nothing more to do with him, forcing Rou to face the seriously scary prospect of rejection by declaring his feelings first. There are a few explicit scenes, but they serve the characters and story well. Highly recommended! – Michelle Smith

Love Me, Love Me Not, Vol. 2 | By Io Sakisaka | Viz Media – First of all, a word of advice to the author: don’t sink people’s ships in your author’s notes, OK? Secondly, this continues to have the strengths of Io Sakisaka titles—it gets teenage love in a good way, has characters who are likeable but clearly flawed, shows gradual character growth, and has clean, easy-to-follow art. She’s still trying to balance out the idealistic girl with the realistic girl, though it may be leaning towards the former. Sadly, it also contains what’s always been one of this author’s big weaknesses to me—I like her series but never love them. Each volume is fun to read and I’d call it good, but it’s never going to be tops in my favorite shoujo manga lists. It’s not life-changing the way a Yona of the Dawn is. – Sean Gaffney

Ping Pong, Vol. 1 | By Taiyo Matsumoto | Viz Media – Ever since Matsumoto was a guest at TCAF in 2013 and spoke in depth about the series, its development, and how it fit into his overall career, I’ve been desperately wanting to read Ping Pong in English. When the excellent anime adaptation came and went soon after and the original manga still hadn’t been licensed, I didn’t expect that we’d ever see it translated. But it is actually here! The first of two beautifully designed omnibus volumes. And I am absolutely in love with Matsumoto’s Ping Pong. Ostensibly a high school sports manga, Ping Pong spends very little time explaining the ins and outs of the game even though table tennis is essentially omnipresent; instead, the series devotes its attention almost entirely to the characters themselves. With strong psychological elements, in part the work’s themes explore talent, motivation, and self-determination, all supported by Matsumoto’s distinctive and spectacularly dynamic and expressive artwork. – Ash Brown

Prince Freya, Vol. 1 | By Keiko Ishihara | VIZ Media – The land of Tyr is threatened by Sigurd, the empire to the north. Our “wimpy and weak” heroine, Freya, happens to be the spitting image of Prince Edvard, who’s just been poisoned by Sigurd, and so takes on the role of impersonating him to protect her country. Alas, Freya’s performance as Edvard (and characterization in general) is inconsistent and in a way that doesn’t seem intentional on the mangaka’s part. Sometimes she boldly and capably takes action, sometimes she just cries. In my notes I wrote, “This ain’t no Basara,” prompted by a panel in which Freya is making an extremely insipid face because of something sappy her love interest has just said, but then something super dramatic and unexpected occurs and… well, now I’m cautiously on board. It may turn out to be fluffier than I would like, but I will at least give it a couple more volumes. – Michelle Smith

The Quintessential Quintuplets, Vol. 9 | By Negi Haruba | Kodansha Comics – There’s less swapping in this one, but the one time there is a swap it blows the reader out of the water. I suspect Ichika’s popularity took a nosedive after this volume, as her ideal of “all’s fair in love and war” is taken to a somewhat cruel conclusion. She’s not even the thirstiest of the quints, as both Nino and Miku are trying to make their feelings for Futaro as clear to him as possible. Meanwhile, Yotsuba is trying the opposite tactic, saying that she’ll support whichever sister that isn’t her he picks, showing off a core of self-deprecation that we’ve seen before, but never to this level. And then there’s Itsuki, who seems to have forgotten she was supposed to be first girl. Great harem antics. – Sean Gaffney

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts, Vol. 9 | By Yu Tomofuji | Yen Press – I missed reviewing the eighth volume of this, for some reason; I’m not sure why. It continues to be quietly sweet, with a heroine who perhaps leans a little too much towards “can save everyone by the sheer power of being really nice.” That said, nice can only go so far, and when she discovers a country that’s being blackmailed into slavery, nice becomes determined and fierce. There’s also some tortured romance at the start—the king’s chief bodyguard and the princess’s attendant clearly are headed towards each other, but there are a few steps back here before we can move forward once more. I admit that I’d likely enjoy this more without its central conceit of animal people, but oh well. – Sean Gaffney

Snow White with the Red Hair, Vol. 7 | By Sorata Akiduki | Viz Media – I admit I was a bit more surprised than Shirayuki was at the identity of the leader of the Lions of the Mountain. That said, it does remind us that Shirayuki is another one of those great “shoujo heroines who underreacts to everything,” which can be quite amusing when done right. That said, this volume is when the series transitioned from the quarterly DX to the main LaLa magazine, and as such much of the middle part is taken up with introducing new readers to the main cast and the situation. This includes an amusing “personality reversal” chapter where Mitsuhide starts acting like a chivalrous knight. the book ends with the implication that their love is going public. How will that go? Great shoujo. – Sean Gaffney

Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina, Vol. 1 | By Jougi Shiraishi, Itsuki Nanao, and Azure | Square Enix – This is a manga adaptation of the first fourth or so of the light novel, and it’s a very good adaptation. I will admit that Elaina is a lot more expressive than I was expecting… her delivery in the novels is somewhat cool… but it makes sense given the manga’s visual medium, and she’s cute. This volume shows off what we’re going to get from now on: some cute fluffy stories, some melancholic stories with deaths, some stories of Elaina having to extricate herself from a situation, and some backstory showing how she came to be wandering. The final story was one of my favorites in the book, and it’s the best one here too. A nice adaptation. – Sean Gaffney

By: Ash Brown

#Anime #News #Manga Bookshelf

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killian-whump · 6 years ago

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OUAT 3x04: Rewatch Liveblog

Hey guys! I'm back again with another rewatch liveblog. Man, I'm kinda storming through S3 so far, due to the lack of Killian whump in a lot of these early episodes. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll make up for that by spending a quarter of a century on the next episode :P

But before THAT episode, we have THIS one! It's episode 3x04, and it's called "Nasty Habits". Unfortunately, none of those habits seem to be torturing pirates, because there's only some Killian angst in this one.

Well, let's watch it anyway... ;)

Neal bondage. Way to start off an episode!

Shame I'm not that into Neal, though :/

Hahaha, and Felix isn't even good at tying people up. Theeeere goes Bae.

Gotta admit, his "I'm not a boy anymore, and I sure ain't lost" is kinda hot XD

Bae: "Papa, I told you: I don't want anymore gifts from the people you terrorize." Ummm. Rumple, that's super fucking creepy. Rumple: "Then what do you want?" LIKE, LITERALLY ANYTHING THAT ISN'T THAT.

Hey, solid question here, but why IS the Dark One still living in a hovel at this point?

Oh, totally unnecessary but kinda awesome warpaint time.

And creepy Belle conjuring time. I mean, kudos to you for maintaining your child-like wonder, Rumple, but having invisible friends at your age IS kinda weird. Just saying.

Although, I mean, it DOES do a solid job of giving Rumple a chance to tell the audience his own inner doubts and fears in a far less creepy way than having him literally talking to himself.

So there's that.

Wow, that's a really nice little miniature "Pan's Compound" made out of rocks and sticks. Did they all work together to gather the rocks and arrange everything so artfully? Or did one of them just sit there and do this on their own like the world's loneliest middle school art project? And if so, who?

"It's not the sticks you need to worry about. It's the poison they're dipped in." MEANINGFUL OMINOUS CAPTAIN CHARMING LOOK BEHOOOOOOOOLD

Tink: "One nick, and you'll spend the rest of yo-" Dave: "Poison sticks equal death. We got it." No, no, Dave. Let her finish. This sounds relevant to my interests.

Tink looks so cheerful as she says she's ready to go as soon as they tell her the exit plan. Oh, sweet summer child. You're obviously new here.

...ALL of their faces right here. They're all like, "Oh shit, we were hoping you wouldn't ask us that." Except Hook, who looks as vaguely amused by their reactions as we are.

Regina's SO happy to hear of Greg's demise. I FEEL YOU, GIRL. I FEEL YOU.

David: "what about you, Hook? You got off this island before." Hook: "Yes. Aboard my ship, which would require some form of magic to create a portal, which... I got from Pan, in a deal I don't think he's ready to repeat." TELL US MORE OR I SWEAR TO GOD

He can't even meet anyone's eyes as he says it, either. Just what WAS that deal, Hook? Don't make me imagine it. You won't like what I imagine. Mmmm. I like what I'm imagining...

More angst. Yum.

Ahh... Rumple hears the murmurings of conversation...

BAM! Poppy dust to the face! Why did he use poppy dust, though? I mean, I assume it's poppy dust, since it looked the same as when Tink knocked Regina out last episode - which was pointed out to be done with poppy dust.

OH, HEY LOOK, GUYS, IT'S BAELFIRE

HE'S NOT DEAD, EVERYBODY!

Don't act like you've already known that since last season, because that's just gonna make Rumple feel bad for being so behind on the news.

THIS IS WHERE A COMMERCIAL WOULD BE IF WE HAD ANY

True Story: I meant to do this rewatch post the other day, but when I sat down to watch the episode, it turned out my copy of 3x04 was somehow episode 4 of Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, so I had to go online and re-download the right episode, because of course I’m too lazy to rip my own videos. I just download them like the dirty pirate I am. Yarrrrrr.

Anyway, this episode seems to have slightly longer black breaks where the commercials were. Weird. Anyway...

SERIOUSLY, RUMPLE?!

We've already talked about how creepy it is, giving your kid "gifts" you stole from the people you torment with your dark magic.

Oh, look. Rumple's gone to Hamelin. And the children are missing. And there's a piper. And he wears a pied cloak. THIS SOUNDS FAMILIAR... (and I don't mean from the previous times I've seen this episode, you smart asses.)

Rumple: "Pan is too powerful. You can only beat him if you're willing to die... which I am." Ummm. But you were willing to die to save Henry because Baelfire was dead, and... and... I mean... *gestures vaguely* Neal: "What if I told you there was another way?"

No, apparently it involves attacking one of Kraken-san's friends and relations. Don't worry, guys, no krakens were harmed in the harvesting of this squid ink. This particular kraken lived long after this, and sired a bunch of tiny kraken babies who went on to plunder pirate butts all along the shores of Neverland after the realms were united in S7.

It's true. I made it up just now.

Hahahahaha, Regina. "What is this supposed to be?" Well, it looks like... a gigantic rock of some kind, but I'm no expert or anything.

Oh, it's the "hot" conversation. I love it XD And the way David snaps the rope away from Hook, like he doesn't need his piddly help. "And I'm plenty hot." Yeah, you sure are, Dave XD

Mmmm... Hook's so intense when he's talking to Dave. "Why don't you?"

"Oh, if there's one thing I've gleaned from you hero types, it's that there's always hope." <3

"Is there something you're not telling me... mate?" Oh, NOW he's your mate XD

"Alas, hope and reality are most often worlds apart." T_T

Sure, just shove him, Dave. Can't you see he's going through something here? Look how angsty he is. Like an angst burrito wrapped in black leather.

OH SHIT. NOT THIS AGAIN.

I love the way Emma calls out Hook’s name. It's so familiar <3

Come on, baby. You can light the torch this time. Just keep trying. You can do i- DAMMIT DAVE. Every time I watch this episode, you shove him out of the way and use your fancy shmancy modern lighter to light the torch. He's just an angsty pirate, trying the best he can with one hand and a hook T_T

Showin' him up in front of Emma and all that... SO MEAN T_T

Hook's face, tho XD

...and Emma's not even paying attention, anyway XD

On a more serious note, these kinds of bestings make me laugh. I love them all <3

Oh, back to Hamelin.

Yeah, follow those kids, Rumple. This is probably the only time saying that wouldn’t be super duper creepy.

Gee, that piper on the other side of the fire looks a bit familiar...

OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, IT'S PETER FUCKING PAN D:

Pan really IS a little shit, though, isn't he? Hahaha. Such absolutely horrible things to say to your own kid. WORST PARENT ON THE SHOW. And there's a LOT of competition for that spot, let me tell you.

NM, I don't need to tell you. You all already know XD

"After all, being abandoned is what you're good at, isn't it?" JFC, dude, chill out or something. This isn't the Cruelty Olympics up in here. I'd know if it was. I'd be taking part... AND STILL SIDE-EYEING YOUR NASTY ASS.

Just kidding. Love you, boo. Keep being the best little shit this side of the sewage plant.

Hey, thanks a lot whichever one of you is responsible for this one. Now I can't watch this scene without thinking they're out of paper towels D:

Henry: "Sorry. I don't hear anything." Pan: "Interesting." I'll say.

Oh, so the sentries were knocked out by a sleeping spell... that looks exactly like a puff of poppy dust. Busy year in the effects department?

Pan: "Now, now, Felix. Where's your sense of adventure?" See, that's why I still love Pan, even though he's a complete piece of shit. He's a fun piece of shit. He really gets into his dastardly and deviant behavior.

JFC KNOCK IT OUT WITH THE LANTERNS NOW. I can only have so many orgas- OH, HI GUYS.

The way Colin pops those consonants on the word "important" XD I fucking love this man. Why is he so much the way he is?!

Hook: "He got it from his mother." OH GOD, BABY. Somebody hold me. I can't handle the look on his face after he says that. Oh shit. I've revealed feelings. RUN AWAY.

"Yes, because pre-teen Baelfire probably made lots of pasta." Never change, Regina. You’re my boo and you always will be <3

This scene is really pretty, though. I love the soft yellow glow coming out of the coconut and the stars across the ceiling. Pretty <3

THEY'RE STILL OUT OF PAPER TOWELS. Goddammit, you guys.

Wow. That was a powerful gust of magic. I wonder who could've been responsible for that?

Pan: "We have a guest!" Ummm... Hate to break it to you, but your party literally dropped dead asleep about 2 seconds ago, so nobody's listening XD

Pan: "Who could it be?" I WONDER.

Slick move there, Neal. I might just start to like you again, after all. Hope you don't die in the second half of the season or anything...

Awww. The sad thing is, the viewer knows Rumple actually isn't here to murder Henry, but poor Rumple - Neal doesn't know that :/

I actually hate storylines like this. I'd rather be kept in the dark. It's so frustrating when you know shit that the characters don't know. Key reason why I'm not into S1 very much, actually. But you didn't hear that from me. Remember: I only dislike it 'cos there's no pirates ;)

Neal: "It's Neal!" Wow. Getting really loud there, Bae- sorry, Neal. Oops.

Ahhhhh, Peter Pan, you little shit. Causing more trouble.

Neal: "We're safer without you." Ummm... Are you, though? Are you really?

"Nothing is going to happen to you. Not while I'm here." Oh, Mary Margaret. About that... Heh. Heh heh. Hmm.

Hey, look guys. It's Neal, and he's found the heroes' campsite!

...and now he's been caught by Pan. I hate to say I told you so, Neal, and I hate to say Rumple told you so, as well, but...

LITERALLY EVERYONE TOLD YOU SO, YOU IDIOT.

Ahahahaha, "Never break in somewhere unless you know the way out." Peter Pan taught him that. Nice one, show. I forgot about that detail.

"I'll remember that for next time." Ummm... Wait. What.

Dammit show. You giveth and you taketh away.

Poor Jared, hahaha. He spends most of this episode being fireman carried by various people. Acting is so glamorous.

Ooooh, a good old-fashioned manhandling right here. Love it.

It still bothers me that Rumple's entire reason for living is Bae. I mean, having (Rumple!)Belle literally saying that now that Neal's alive, Rumple has a reason for living again... It just makes me feel bad about that ship?

JFC WOULD SOMEONE GO TO THE STORE AND BUY MORE PAPER TOWELS FOR THESE BOYS?!?!

NOW HENRY HAS THE EMPTY PAPER TOWEL ROLLS

What are they even paying you people for?!

Wait. I'm not getting paid. Why are you guys getting paid if I'm not getting paid? Dammit, I quit.

PEW PEW PEW PEEEEEEEEEEW

#ouat rewatch #watching fairytales #ouat liveblog #3x04 #oc #kw reviews

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cianmars · 7 years ago

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Pieces of a Puzzle:

Rogers, David, and Mary have been together for ten years and have already have a ten year old daughter, Alice, together.

They all have their own issues and problems, but they’re happy. That being said they feel like something’s missing.

They’re waiting to adopt a baby, the last piece of their family, and only have four months to wait. In the mean time they decide to foster six year old Emma, what they assume is going to be a short stay, before she finds her forever family.

Chapter 4- Meeting Emma David meets Emma at the hospital.

AO3

It took David almost two hours to get to the hospital, through the morning traffic, but as soon as he got there he headed for the canteen where Matilda has asked him to meet her.

“Tilly.” He smiled and the two friends hugged in greeting, he was careful of his shoulder as he did so, but it was aching much less than it had been the day before.

“You know only you guys are allowed to call me that, right?”

“Us, and Emily.” David pointed out with a smirk, they had been friends with Matilda in college over a decade before, he was made up that his friend had found someone to love just like he had found his two true loves. He gently took hold of her hand. “Wow, look at that rock.”

“She’s a banker.” She pointed out in a joke they had often made. “Here I got you a coffee and some toast.”

“Thanks.” He dumped some sugar and milk into the coffee and took a log sip. “I’m guessing Mary told you that I hadn’t eaten?”

“Kian.” She smiled. All three of her friends had always fussed over each other when they were worried, but Kian and Mary had been extra worried since David had been hurt. “How’s the shoulder?”

He stretched it instinctively. “It’s much better than it was.” But not what it had once been. He took a bite of his toast. “So I have a few questions.”

“Shoot.”

“What size clothes is she in? I’m gonna take her to grab some bits on the way home, and we’re gonna get some more tomorrow with Kee and Mare.” He explained.

“The checks for her won’t be coming in until the end of the week.” She warned, as she did with all the foster parents who worked for her.

“You know we don’t care about that.” He told her truthfully. “We’ll just stick the money into a bank account for the kid until she’s older, for college or a car, whatever she needs. That’s allowed, right?”

She smiled, they had done the same thing before, they always pointed out that they didn’t need the money and that it wasn’t the reason why they fostered. Between two trust funds and three good jobs she understood, she didn’t know how much David and Mary had inherited but she had a feeling they could live the rest of their lives on the interests alone. “I don’t see why not.” She frowned. “Emma’s tiny, she’s only the size of a four year old, but she’s super intelligent but only on things which can be read – she’s had barely any life experiences, the only ones I can tell she’s even had are negative.”

“Al was in like size seven or eight when she was Emma’s age.” David frowned despite the pleasant memory of his daughter when she was just six. “And we’re going to make sure she gets that, I promise.”

She gently squeezed his hand. “I know you will. You got any more questions for me?”

“Mostly medical – allergies, conditions, and treatments for everything.”

After they went over the things they signed the paperwork, Matilda liked to do it away from the child so they wouldn’t make the child feel like an object or something, then they went to the children’s ward.

“Emma, this is David Charming, he’s one of your new foster fathers.” Matilda introduced with a smile. “Dave, this is Emma Swan.”

David walked over to where Emma was sat, in the chair beside the bed, he crouched in front of her so he could look her in the eyes. “Hey Emma, it’s really nice to finally meet you, Matilda told me lots about you. My name’s David, you can call me Dave, David, Davey, I pretty much answer to anything.” He joked.

A small smile tugged at Emma’s mouth. She held her Matilda book closer to her, against her chest, as though it were a shield. “Hi.” She mumbled shyly. “David.” She added quickly, sticking to the name Matilda had introduced him as, just to be safe. She didn’t want to overstep her boundaries, she knew she was just another foster kid.

David smiled gently. He took in the kid in front of him; Matilda was right, she looked like she was four, and acted shy but she was trying to put on a brave face. A blue beat up backpack was next to her, her arm looped through the strap as though it were a lifeline, it was almost empty. “Matilda, huh?” He said smiling at the book she was holding, he smirked back at the social worker, then smiled gently at his new foster daughter. “I’ve never read that but I had watched the movie, have you seen it?”

Emma bit her lip. She slowly shook her head then pushed herself to speak more. “I’ve not seen it… Matilda gave me the book… Have you seen Harry Potter?”

David’s smile widened and he nodded his head. “I have, I love those movies, and I’ve read all of the books. My husband, Kian, and my wife, Mary, also love Harry Potter, we dressed up as Harry, Ron, and Hermione last Halloween, and my daughter Alice dressed up as Luna. They all wish that they could have come with me to come and take you back to our home, but Mary had to go to work, she’s a fourth grade teacher, and Kian had to go to work too, he is a type of policeman, I am too but I’m off work for a little while.”

“Why?” She froze, she hadn’t meant her curiosity to get the better of her.

David gave her a smile letting her know that it was okay. “I was trying to stop some bad guys with Kian and some other police detectives, we put them into prison for a very long time, but they hurt me.” He pulled down the neck of his tee to show her the two marks from the gun shots between his heart and his shoulder. He had nearly died, and it had messed up how well he could use his arm, too messed up to be working other than a desk job at the moment. “So I’m off work for a while.”

Emma slowly relaxed, he genuinely seemed not to care that she had asked him a question, in fact he seemed to like that she was connecting with him. She was glad that he caught the bad guys, she didn’t like that he had been hurt, he seemed like he might be nice and kind… but she was still reserving judgement. “Okay.”

David smiled. “Y’know, my brother owns a bookstore with his wife, we could go there one day, if you like?”

Emma’s eyes widened at the idea. She nodded her head though she tried not to get her hopes up.

Matilda smiled at the pair of them, she could tell that Emma was holding back, it was heart breaking to see that on a child so young, but she knew that if anyone could help her the Charmings could. In the meantime she would be looking for an adoptive family for the little girl, she would make sure it was perfect for her. “Emma, sweetheart, I’ll give you a card with my number on it, if you need me at any time you can call me. Let’s put it in the front pocket of your backpack.”

“Okay.” Emma took the card and slipped it in, not wanting her social worker and foster father to see all of the little bits of food she had hidden away.

The doctor entered and handed David what seemed like a million leaflets about different things, along with a copy of the medical file which he might need, he expertly hid the feeling of worry and the face he felt way out of his depth. Then came all of the medicines –antibiotics and steroids, plus prescriptions for a couple more things which he could pick up on the way home like inhalers and their accessories, and PediaSure to try and get her weight and growth up, plus pain relief medicine for her arm and other injuries. He put the file, leaflets, and medicines into the backpack he had purposely brought. When he was passed a card with the next appointment for Emma’s arm he slipped it into his wallet, they had said that he could switch it to a nearer hospital and he thought that he would talk to his spouses about that – they’d probably go with whichever Emma preferred.

The child sat still through all of this, a sign that she had gotten used to this, it hurt David, but he was certain that Matilda would find Emma a family where she would never be moved again. Once he had everything he crouched down in front of Emma, Matilda had helped her into her oversized and well-worn jacked, and she was holding her backpack super tightly. He smiled gently, and slowly and carefully placed his hand on her uninjured one. It was colder than he expected. “One of the hospital rules is you have to leave being pushed in a wheelchair,” he nodded towards the one the doctor had brought in with him, “I’ll push it for you, I can do it nice and slow, or we can race over the bumps and hills, it’s your choice.”

Emma thought for a minute. “Racing.”

David only just heard her quiet voice, but he beamed as he helped her into the wheelchair, and made sure that Emma hadn’t forgotten anything. “I can carry your backpack for you, if you like?” He offered.

“No!” Emma’s panicked voice was about sixty times louder than her previous answer. She immediately regretted it. She sank back in terror.

David slowly and calmly held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Okay Emma, that’s okay, you can keep a hold of your bag, that’s not a problem at all. Emma, I promise you that I’m never going to hurt you, neither are Mary or Kian. You’re safe with us. I know that’s hard to believe right now, because a lot of adults who were supposed to look after you didn’t, but we’re going to prove it to you.”

Emma had never heard words akin to that come out of an adult’s mouth. He genuinely seemed to believe his words, but no adults had ever said anything like that to her, especially with such conviction. She found herself starting to believe him. She supposed she might as well give him a chance, she had given worse people more chances in her six years of life, she nodded her head. “’Kay.” She mumbled.

Matilda had never seen a foster parent so expertly calm and reassure a child they had met thirty minutes before, especially Emma, who had so many reasons for being guarded and scared.

“Thank you, Emma.” David gave her an honest but charming smile. “Now, let’s break you out of here, yeah?”

A small smile appeared on Emma’s face, she had been in the hospital for ages, and Matilda had told her that David and his family lived a little outside of the city, in an actual house, she had only ever lived in apartments, so she was a little excited to see it. “Yeah. Let’s go.” She let David help her into the wheelchair and he made sure she wasn’t going to fall out, he did so without any hesitation, she wasn’t used to that either.

As promised David raced down the hill like corridor, he made sound effects as though they were a race car, and for the first time in what felt like forever Emma found herself giggling. David’s antics even made people they passed in the hospital laughed or smile.

David felt his heart lighten as he heard her little giggles, he could tell that she was restraining herself from all out laughing, but hearing her laugh had the same effect on him as Alice’s laughter did, he was sure that her adoptive father would love her as much as he loves Alice. And as much as he would love the new baby.

“Thanks for the loaner.” David said to Matilda as he finished fastening the carseat into the back of his car. “We’re going to get one tomorrow so we can get this back to you as soon as possible.” He looked down at Emma in Matilda’s arms. “Hey, kiddo, let’s get you in here, and you can have your backpack in with you.” He lifted her up and placed her into the carseat.

“It’s no problem, thank you for making coming today.” She knew several foster carers who despite being nice wouldn’t have accepted a child two days early. She passed Emma her bag. “I’ll be by in two days, okay? On Friday, but if you need me before then you have my number.”

“Home check?” David smiled.

“Yeah, you know I gotta… Plus I haven’t seen your new digs yet.” She nudged him playfully.

“We’ll see you on Friday then, I’m sure Alice will be made up to see you.” He smiled at Matilda then down at Emma. “My little girl, Alice, loves books just like you – all my family do, you’ll fit right in.”

Emma just smiled and held onto her bag before saying goodbye to Matilda.

After David said his goodbyes to his friend he climbed into the front and did up his own belt. “We’re going to stop off on the way back home, we’ll pick up your medicines and some more bits for you, we want you to feel at home in our home. And tomorrow me, you, and Mary, and Kian, are going to go back into the city and pick up more things for you and for your room.” He told her in a happy tone.

Emma frowned, she knew that foster parents got money to look after her and to buy her things, but it was normally a few days before they got that. David didn’t seem to care about it being his own money, even her birth parents had hated to even spend a dime on her, so why didn’t this stranger?

#The Charmings #Charming Family Fic #Daddy Charming #Mama Snow #Charming babies #David Nolan #Prince Charming #Mary Margaret Blanchard #Snow White #Emma Swan #ouat #ouat fic #fic #Alice charming #Kian Charming #Detective Snowing

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freaoscanlin · 7 years ago

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Bargain Brand

Author’s Note: I found this on my computer tonight. It’s by no means a complete story. I have no idea when I wrote it. Mysteries are fun! The Carmilla-is-Wolverine story I apparently thought was great fun at some point in my life, unleashed on the world. 2124 words, Laura/Carmilla.

Carmilla’s woken up in some strange places—usually dive bars—but despite the number of fights, a hospital is a new one for her. Not even a regular hospital. She only needs a single glance to tell that this room is much, much more advanced than most. And that mutants have something to do with her presence here.

The latter’s obvious by the fact that the woman who showed up before Sabre could kill her is now standing in the middle of the room. Great. As if she weren’t already annoying enough by herself, now there are two more of her, each an identical clone of her. They all three stand there with their arms crossed, watching her. Very obviously the advance guard for whatever group grabbed her.

Carmilla squints at the one on her left, sniffs. Smells just like the original.

“Neat trick. Replicating cupcakes,” she says.

“Did you just smell me?” the original asks, wrinkling her nose. Left Clone looks a little disgruntled, too.

Carmilla pats down her pockets until she finds a cigar and stuffs it between her lips. When she looks for her lighter, though, she discovers the bastards have taken that. She glares at the creampuff clone to her right. “Make yourself useful. Get me a light.”

“Nope.” Left Clone’s talking now. “I’m not helping you give yourself cancer.”

“I heal instantly, clone club.”

All of the clones raise their chins in stereo. “Fine, then I’m not helping you give me cancer,” the original says, eyes flashing. “And we’re in a hospital. You’re not supposed to smoke in a hospital.”

“Buzzkill.”

“What planet are you even from where you think smoking in a hospital is okay?” The clones disappear, leaving her with the original. “And those things smell super gross, by the way. It’s a filthy habit.”

Carmilla sniffs the cigar. “Smells great to me. Better than you do.”

“So you did sniff me!” The woman all but stabs a finger into Carmilla’s collarbone, far too pleased to be right about that. Instantly, a clone pops up behind her.

Carmilla eyes the clone and the original. “Does that happen every time you get excited?”

“No.” But the woman says it too quickly.

Oh, this is rich. Carmilla tucks the cigar away and leans back, swinging her legs so that her heels bump against the front of the examination table. Both the clone and the original scowl at her. “Hope your sexual partners know about your mutation, cutie, or else they’re in for a bit of a surprise. Assuming, of course, that you’re not too tightly wound for all of that.”

The original clenches her jaw, chin going up again. “My sex life is fine, for your information, and I’ll thank you not to make up ridiculous theories about my mutation. We’re all far more interested in yours, actually. Or we will be, assuming that LaFontaine gets here within the next century to actually do your exam.”

“Don’t remember consenting to that,” Carmilla says, studying her fingernails idly. “Don’t remember you twerps asking permission to kidnap me, either. And you took my lighter.”

“We had to make sure you weren’t hostile,” Left Clone says. It’s a little creepy how they split up communication. Carmilla learned when they snatched her away from Sabre that the clones can operate independently, but really, only the annoying one should talk. That’s the only one she’s interested in. Or disinterested in, whichever it is. “You’ll get your lighter back when we feel it’s safe.”

“Lighter’s the least dangerous thing about me. Which I’m guessing is why they’ve got you in here watching me. No worries, creampuffs. I’m too lazy to fight you.” She leans all the way back on her elbows and looks down at the shirt they’ve stuffed her into. It says Silas University. Whatever that is. “Who put me in this? Was it you, cutie?”

Interestingly, the original flushes red and Left Clone looks up at the ceiling. “No. And my name is Laura.”

Carmilla had been expecting one of those ridiculous call-signs the mutants have been picking up left and right. She sits up abruptly and leans forward, ignoring the way Left Laura moves into a fighting stance. She sniffs, not caring that Laura gives her a baffled look, and smiles. After that, she looks at the duplicate. “Interesting.”

“I assure you, it’s actually a very common name.”

“No, not that.” Carmilla hops off the table and walks around Laura, ignoring the way Left Laura tenses for an attack. She doesn’t touch; she’s not that stupid. She saw the martial arts in the field and she doesn’t want to use her claws, not here. She also doesn’t want to deal with getting a black eye, no matter that it’ll be gone in two minutes. Laura stands stock still, facing forward, with only the clone watching Carmilla. “You’re attracted to me and your pal over here isn’t. Huh.”

“Wh-what? I’m not—I mean—I’m definitely not—you smoke cigars and you’re gross.” Laura swivels to glare at her, but she also doesn’t come any closer. This close, Carmilla can hear her heart beating rather quickly. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“The smug, smirk-y thing you’re doing with your face. Stop it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Carmilla says, and she thinks that Laura might actually let Left Laura jump her out of sheer aggravation.

She’s saved by the door opening to admit the person she assumes is LaFontaine. Not one of the ones that plucked her out of her fight with Sabre, she notes.

“Ah, the patient wakes,” LaFontaine says. “I’m surprised you didn’t send a minion to come let me know, Frosh. I would’ve been here sooner.”

“I was a little distracted,” Laura says, glaring at Carmilla. Left Laura gestures at the exam table; Carmilla ignores the clone. “Carmilla, this is LaFontaine. They’re in charge of our med facilities. LaF, good luck with this one, she’s…very full of herself.”

“Don’t forget charming and gorgeous.” Carmilla saunters back over to the examination table and studies the doctor. They don’t seem evil, though they’re wearing a bowtie and a pinstriped vest and she’s never actually met anybody benevolent who dresses that way. “Care to tell me why I’m here?”

“I’m amazed you still are. We had a bet going on whether or not you’d attack Laura and be halfway out of the state by now.”

“Hey,” Left Laura says. “I could take her.”

LaFontaine merely shoots Laura-the-original a look. She sighs and Left Laura disappears. “She started it,” she says.

“Not going to run anywhere,” Carmilla says. “I wanted to see how to get my lighter back.”

“That’s fair. So you are capable of planning ahead.”

Carmilla feels the hair on the back of her neck bristle, but she doesn’t snarl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your tactics for fighting Sabre appeared to be ‘headfirst and hope for the best.’ Merely an observation, you understand. Not a criticism. It appeared to be successful for you. Mostly.”

“They’re saying it wouldn’t have been if we hadn’t showed up and kicked her ass for you,” Laura says, snorting.

“Why are you still here? Go away. The adults are talking, Bargain Brand,” Carmilla says.

LaFontaine steps in between them right as Laura lunges, and they hold their friend back easily. The two clones that pop into existence rush right past her and at Carmilla, who doesn’t even extend her claws.

“Laura!”

The clones step back, though they’re frowning mutinously. Carmilla blows them a sarcastic kiss. “Somebody has a temper.”

LaFontaine gives Carmilla a long look. “If you could refrain from pissing her off on purpose, I would appreciate that.”

“Tall order. Unlike short stuff here.”

LaFontaine sighs. “Laura, why don’t you just wait outside?”

“Perry said—”

“At this point, I’d rather take my chances than listen to you two snipe at each other.”

Laura glowers, but rather than stomping out, she takes a seat at the chair in the corner, folds her arms over her chest, and glares at Carmilla. Silently. That’s not going to last at all, Carmilla figures. She smirks. These people might be weird and get into fights where they’re definitely not welcome, but she had no idea she’d be having this much fun with them.

“Well, get on with whatever it is you’re going to do to me, Doc,” Carmilla says, and LaFontaine sighs at her.

LaFontaine examines her and exclaims over the x-rays for a good twenty minutes while Laura glowers from the corner. What Carmilla learns is that her entire skeleton is coated in adamantium.

Explains why she always feels so cold—and why she weighs three times what she should. She’d always suspected her bones were just dense, but actual metal? Yeah. That’s not a mutation, that’s just strange. Carmilla doesn’t mention that this is the first time she’s learning about it to the bio major or to her duplicate-happy new companion. She doesn’t exactly want to advertise that her memories only go back about three years and there aren’t a lot of happy ones mixed in.

“This is just extraordinary.” The science nerd is practically vibrating with excitement as they study her x-rays together. “I have never seen anything of this magnitude inside a living human being before. And your blood shows no signs of toxicity. Fascinating.”

Laura stands up and squints at an x-ray of Carmilla’s metal-plated skull. “Guess this means I shouldn’t punch her in the head,” is all she says.

“I’d like to see you try,” Carmilla says back, twirling her cigar between her fingers.

“Your claws. Can I see them?” LaFontaine asks.

Carmilla flicks her wrist and extends the claws, middle one first. When Laura rolls her eyes at the gesture, she grins and extends the other two, holding her arm out straight for LaFontaine to examine. She’s not a fan of being touched but in less than an hour, Carmilla’s learned more about herself than she has in years. She’ll play along until the game grows boring, she decides.

LaFontaine probes the skin of her wrist with their hands, frowning in puzzlement, but it’s Laura that surprises Carmilla by venturing closer. She’s looking not at the blades—which are as wickedly sharp as the day Carmilla woke up three years ago—but at the spaces between Carmilla’s knuckles, where the skin has already healed.

“Does that hurt?” she asks, tilting her head sideways.

Carmilla could lie, but there’s no point. “Every time,” she says.

LaFontaine places their hand on top of Carmilla’s arm, fingers digging in slightly. “Retract them?” she asks.

Carmilla obeys, watching distractedly as the holes in her hands heal over without a single drop of blood showing. “I’m only doing this so I can get my lighter back,” she says, yawning. “What you freaks do with this information is up to you.”

“I’ll speak to Professor C about it. Laura, why don’t you show our guest around?”

Carmilla frowns. “Around where?”

LaFontaine turned to Laura, their eyebrows going high. “She has no idea?”

“We didn’t exactly get around to talking about it. She was a little busy pissing me off.”

“Where is ‘around,’ precisely?” Carmilla asks, and she gets the feeling she’s not going to like the answer.

And it turns out she’s right. For somebody who’s been doing her absolute best to avoid entanglements with other mutants, she’s sure stuck her foot in it this time. First Sabre nearly gets the better of her, then she’s grabbed by a goody-two-shoes and her clone army, and now she’s out in the middle of Styria with a bunch of mutant college kids. At an actual school for mutants, mutant classes and everything. Too many mutants, as Laura put it, to shake a stick at.

What the frilly hell?

Apparently they’ve been operating under everybody’s noses the whole time, which explains both the remote location and the fact that Carmilla’s never picked up on any hint of a whole university. It’s a nice place. Bucolic and picturesque if you’re into that sort of thing (she’s not, but she likes that she can see the stars), the classes set in an austere building that’s completely at odds with the powered people inside it.

“Okay, why are you sneering now?” Laura, who apparently has limited herself to one clone now that they’re on their tour, asks. She adds a completely unnecessary eye-roll. “Silas is a good place. It’s a safe haven for people like us.”

“Feels more like a prison.”

“Let me guess: school always felt like a prison to you.”

“Probably.”

“Pro—probably? You don’t remember school?”

“I took a few knocks to the head,” Carmilla lies easily.

“How? Your skull is literally the hardest substance on earth!”

Carmilla looks around at this strange little school she’s found herself at, and the even stranger mutant leading her around. “Beats me, cutie.”

Laura just stalks off with an annoyed huff.

#carmilla #carmilla karnstein #laura hollis #lafontaine #carmilla fanfiction #fanfiction #i still haven't seen the movie because of the book and everything going on #and i'm apparently just unleashing random fic on the internet today #enjoy

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jaeminlore · 7 years ago

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incendio » onew

- prompt: i am sorry i accidentally transfigured your goblet into a gigantic, venomous spider, at least madam pomfrey was able to bring down the swelling, and look, i brought you some chocolate frogs (a prompt from this post) words: 2156 category: hogwarts!au, fluff a/n: i miss onew a whole lot!!!!! i'm super sorry i changed the plot but you said i could and also i couldn't find inspo for the one you gave me. i hope this one is good enough to make up for it.

the sweetest baby

- Sometimes, Jinki ran out of luck. His friends called it the "Jinki Effect" or rather called him "Jinki the Jinx" with the following definition: even if he did everything right, it would still end up wrong. Although it was a source of the boy's laughter, Jinki found it rather inconvenient in most situations.

For instance, in transfiguration class. Jinki never could seem to do exactly as his professor said. Professor McGonagall hated it, considering Jinki was so smart at his written tests. His practical tests, however, were a different story. He never seemed to be able to transfigure things the way he was instructed to. Need Jinki to turn a matchstick into a needle? He'll turn it into a pencil. Need him to turn a sandwich into a lunchbox? He'll turn it into a book. Today in particular seemed to fall out of his favor, since Professor McGonagall had decided to put them into pairs. Normally it would've been fine; Jinki could've grabbed his fellow Hufflepuff, Jonghyun, and it would be less embarrassing when he accidentally turned a loaf of bread into a pillow. But no, that would be too easy, Jinki assumed. Instead he was paired with you, a random Ravenclaw who seemed far too excited about this project for Jinki's taste.

Normally, he would be excited about learning new things. However, constantly messing things up since first year had made him a bit numb to that ecstatic feeling. He studied you for awhile as you listened intently to Professor McGonagall's instructions, gripping a golden goblet in your nimble fingers and shooting a smile at him. He started only for a moment at the way your eyes flickered with something of eagerness and childlike mirth. Jinki snapped out of it quickly in fear of being caught and scrambled for his own goblet to turn into a ... rat, was it? Yes, that had to be it, Jinki concluded as his fellow students began to wave their wands at their partner's goblets and turn them into small rodents. You faced him, offering a curious curl in your lips as you asked, "Aren't you going to go first?" Jinki could already feel beads of sweat sprouting against his hairline. He stuttered for a moment and got his wand out, clearing his throat before pointing it at the goblet. He spoke the words he vaguely remembered, although his mind was cluttered with images of you and whether or not you would think him stupid for not being able to perfect the spell. He muttered the spell and flicked his wand at the goblet. Nothing happened. "Huh, that's strange," you muttered. You reached for the goblet, only centimeters away before it transformed with a loud pop that echoed across the classroom. Suddenly the goblet was a spider, large and hairy like a monster with far, far too many legs. The creature darted forward, ignoring your shouts of protest, and latched onto your wrist. "Mr. Lee!" McGonagall barked. With a flick of her wand, she instantly transformed the spider back to it's cup form before turning to the shaken Hufflepuff once again. "What is going on here?" Jinki shrugged, his mouth hung open. He stared at you, holding your wrist with your face twisted in pain. "I-I'm sorry — I didn't mean to — " "You never mean to, do you?" Another Ravenclaw, presumedly your friend, snapped, causing Jinki to jump slightly. "C'mon, Y/n, let's go see Madam Pomfrey." Jinki watched you go, wondering how on earth he was ever going to make up for this one. "Stay behind class today, Mr. Lee," McGonagall said, "I have a few things to discuss with you." Jinki waited until the last student cleared out before making his way to McGonagall's desk, although every bone in his body told him to stay away. This was the moment where he would be kicked out of Hogwarts forever. He knew this day would come, however not now. He only had the rest of his seventh year left; he could graduate and then his professors would never have to worry about him again.

McGonagall had never looked as intimidating as she did just then, her narrow, cat-like eyes peering down at him from behind her half-moon glasses. "You're a very bright student, Lee. It never fails to amaze me how you manage to get perfect marks on all your written tests. However, I must remind you that you will take your N.E.W.Ts at the end of this year. Many of which are not written tests, but practical. If you can't get high marks in those tests, you could fail and repeat seventh year all over again. "I say this because I believe you have enough potential to complete the practical exams: get a tutor. If that doesn't work, get a new wand. Because right now you're likely to be sitting right at your desk this same time next year, while your classmates have all moved up and out. Think about it. Good day, Mr. Lee." "Thanks, Professor," Jinki managed to say despite his worry-clouded mind. How was he ever going to find someone who would want to tutor a seventh year? Tossing his newfound worries behind him, he quickly made his way to the hospital wing after a quick trip to his dormitory. Upon entering, he found you sitting on a hospital bed, your wrist freshly bandaged and your fingers slightly purple and swollen. "I'm so sorry," he blurted, running to your side. "I'm horrible at spells and I really don't know how this one happened but I promise it wasn't on purpose — Look! I brought chocolate frogs!" You laughed as Jinki nervously dropped the candies onto your lap. "You didn't have to do that, Jinki. I know you didn't mean to. Besides, I get today off of lessons, so I have to thank you." Jinki couldn't help but feel flustered when you winked at him, your playful aura surprising him in all the best ways. He watched you open all the chocolate frogs and check the cards. When you found one you didn't have yet, you patted the blankets in a gesture for Jinki to sit. "I wanted too," he assured you. "It's my fault you're in here, after all." "You can't help that you suck at magic," you said, and Jinki's gaze snapped to yours quickly, wondering if you were joking or not. When he saw the twinkle in your eye, he simply shook his head at your attempt to joke with him. "That isn't funny," he muttered. He changed the subject quickly after that, in the hopes of learning more about you, "So your name is Y/n?"

"Yep," you said, "Captain of the dueling club, and top in all my classes. I could help you, you know." Jinki bit his lip. He hated to admit that he needed the help, but at the same time he desperately needed it. "It's practical exams," he said, "If I have to use a wand, I'm going to fail my N.E.W.Ts." "That's not good," you said, your words coated in sympathy. "Tell you what, meet me in the empty classroom in the fourth floor corridor after class tomorrow and I'll teach you a few things, okay?" Jinki nodded, keeping a mental note to cancel tea with Jonghyun. "Okay. Thanks, Y/n and I'm really sorry again for everything. I hope your wrist feels better." - You took a deep breath as you stood before the door of the classroom you told Jinki to meet you in. This was it. One step in and you would be alone with your crush again. You had been watching Jinki from afar since your fifth year, and it was sheer coincidence alone that the two of you had been paired up for a lesson. Even if that lesson ended with you getting bitten by a venomous spider, you couldn't help but think it was an act of fate. The more you thought about it, the more stupid you felt, which would be the reason you never thought too much about your feelings for the cute Hufflepuff. Because when you did, you felt like a lovesick idiot. You wondered how long you could stay out here before Jinki would think you had left him.

With no time like the present, you braced your palms against the wooden surface of the door. A third hand appeared in the equation, pressing against the small of your back and eliciting a shout of surprise from you, whose nerves were already shot. Jinki apologized profusely for scaring you, his hand still on your back but now rubbing comforting circles into your skin. "I was just going to tell you to let me open the door — you know, because of your wrist and all." "Oh," you eyed your nearly healed wrist, still bandaged. "Thank you. I think I can open a door, though." Jinki ignored you and pushed he door open. "We can't take any chances." "Aw, do you care about me?" you cooed, looking up just in time to see Jinki's flustered face. "No," he shot back, "it'd just be a shame for my tutor to get hurt before she taught me anything." You laughed at his comeback, happy that he was playing along with you. "Okay, I'm going to bring out the practice dummies. I need you to be prepared to cast whatever spell I shout at you." "Like a speed drill?" Jinki, who could already feel sweat dripping down his back, asked. "Exactly," you said, pulling a train of practice dummies out in front of him. "It'll be a good drill to get you warmed up for the lesson. Diffindo!" Jinki caught on immediately and cast whichever spell you dictated to him. Still, although he seemed to be doing everything right, he couldn't get the complete spell out. "Your form is excellent and your diction is even better than mine," you told him, confused, "Do you remember what Ollivander said the day you got that wand?" Jinki stared at the stick of wood in his hand for a moment, recalling the memory to you. "He said it was tricky and had its own way of doing things. He said I must feel what the wand feels." Usually you took Ollivander's words as a load of bull, but this was really all you could think of that might be his problem. "Okay. So feel your wand as you cast. Ready? Incendio!" Jinki obeyed your instructions, but still nothing more than a sliver of fire sprouted from the tip of his wand. He groaned at the small wisp of smoke, almost as if it had done him harm. "I really am the worst at spells." "Not necessarily," you said, studying the way his face twisted. "What were you thinking about when you casted that spell?" "I was thinking of how much I wanted to be able to cast a spell."

"That's your problem," you said, walking over to the Hufflepuff boy. "Not only do you need to feel the magic through your wand, but you should also think of the spell and and what end result you want when you cast a spell. For instance, cast Incendio again and imagine the dummy disintegrating into flames." Jinki nodded and held up his wand. He took a deep breath and then— "Incendio!" The dummy burst into flames, the red fire curling up towards the ceiling. You hastily put it out with a water spell before attacking Jinki in a hug. "You did it! See, I knew you could! I'm so proud of you!" Jinki laughed and held on to you, burying his face in your shoulder, "Did that really just happen? That was so easy! Y/n, I'm going to pass my N.E.W.Ts!" "I know!" you said, his excitement contagious. "We should go tell McGonagall!" "No," Jinki grinned, "let's surprise her during the next transfiguration class, when I successfully don't turn anything into a venomous spider." You giggled, "I can't believe it only took you one lesson to gain control." Jinki's face fell then, and he looked down at his wand. "Well, I mean, they don't have to be over. Who knows? I mean, this could all be beginners luck and I could turn a rope into a snake tomorrow. Maybe we should keep having these tutoring sessions." Your cheeks felt abnormally hot, and you almost wondered if Jinki had secretly casted Incendio towards you, because that's what your skin felt like. "Okay. Tomorrow then, at this same time." "Great!" Jinki said, gathering his stuff to leave. He stopped right in front of you and you held out your hand awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. He ignored your hand and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he straightened back up. "Well I'll see you later, Y/n." "Right!" you said, wishing he would leave before your face got too red. "Later!" »the end«

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years ago

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13x02 watching notes

i'm on a train. choo choo.

expectations: helpfully wrote them out last time for the season as a whole which this ep is introducing all the plot stuff for since last episode advanced the plot a single day of angst, but this episode especially has a few SUPER low bars to pass. Last time out BL failed spectacularly to not kill Eileen. now we have "don't assault mary, over-sexualise the day old guy, or flub introing the new characters, or reintroducing the returning ones"

our train was like 10 minutes late out the station because there was no driver. is this a metaphor.

i also had to eat krispy kreme doughnuts before I could dig into the episode.

oh jeeze Drexel survived season 12... no one really has a fanclub for the random minions, probably because around Simmons we realised there was no point getting attached. and he was in some of the worst scenes of last season just because of the context. which is a shame. also he's a lucifer fan and that's not really a worthwhile position. anyway hope springs eternal that colonel sanders is such a charismatic character he makes the demon scenes worth watching... and Drexel gets to be interesting. And stop saying lines like 'make hell great again' which is so not a good thing to put in his mouth - at least the other demons who were going around saying it it was the white demon who said it and got the stink eye from the other demon.

One of the other demons says "can you even hear yourself" but idk if BL would crit their own writing unlike competent writers whose first port of call is stressing that they are bad writers and mock their corny dialogue

this also raises the semi perpetual question since season 11 that if Crowley's throne room is here why would any of the pretenders to the throne even want it. they seriously need to justify it. We know devil's gates are a pain and not usually open so smuggling minions out to work topside is an issue but there are other workarounds than establishing a campy hell set that's not even in hell, then getting confused about if it's hell or not, and never really explaining why Lucifer would stick around in it except for the fact Crowley is really good at setting up a system and it would be a shame not to use the pre-established set up.

but eh

I really sincerely hope Asmodeus is just here because Crowley's ex-minions are here and will relocate post-haste to his plantation.

He hung up his coat. Drexel survived though. I guess being a named character has its perks. the sun shone in my eyes the entire time so i was quite amused when the train turned a bit and i saw demons dropping with burned out eyes, angel-style. like Dagon being super duper powerful, I guess they're giving him extra powers - because this is just a few steps up from how Sam was exploding demons with his head at one point and he got his powers from a YED... though in 5x10 when Lucifer killed all those demons he also didn't burn the eyes out. it's probs a stylistic choice. in character and out.

Nougat!!! he's so cute. he's sleeping at an angle to be behind Sam in the convo. The camera points at Sam from the dash and at Dean from Sam's POV, and Jack is in his background. methinks this is about Sam.

He's trying to make Dean sleep and calling out how he hasn't had any, which is nice because I was worried about that earlier.

Dean is calling Jack "it" which I think was in some people's pre-season fic, or else if it weren't it was in the one i didn't write :P Blatant convo is blatant but does at least have an actual honest to god lead into the next scene via the mom is dead conversation. Again we get the super zoom close up on sam being sad and questioning dean's thoughts. assert yourself, sammy! i believe in u

(totally on your side too Dean but the sun is too bright to examine your micro expressions and the camera isn't favouring you anywho so you're a rewatch flavour today)

Satan wants to trade Mary for Jack. Well if Dean knew he'd sell Jack for a corn chip anyway (is that Crowley's phrase from the original weird dog episode?) so that's just a great big victory. methinks the choice will fall on Sam or fall on Dean after he's had a chance to bond with Jack some more - that's the other side to the tension about Dean liking jack that i was talking about earlier whensomeone asked me why everyone wants dean to adopt jack.

ideally mary saves herself or it never comes to it but for now i'll assume whatever else happens between here and there, some version of this plan will at least be floated, even if it's random circumstances and not lucifer's hand any more or something

makes sense anyway to tie mary back into the main arc in a way like how she mirrored cas the entire time last season - if her fate and jack's are connected even tenuously it gives her a connect back into the main thing

oh good the woman next to me has finished her dangerously over-full cup of Pimms because I was terrified it would be bye bye laptop

nnnoooo as I type she refilled it

the train is swaying back and forth so much

anyway Mary asks Lucifer why he wants to be a parent and he hints several times in a row that he has hidden depths without actually showing any of them. i don't want him to have a redemption anyway and i really super duper don't want him to have one written entirely by BL

Colonel Sanders continues to try and liven up the story while giving us surface level exposition

I'll be honest, 'write that down' is the first good line... must be whichever of BL is quippy currently writing. I think they just introduced a monster taht lucifer is scared of but I couldn't catch what it was and for some reason another demon is listening in so is he getting ideas? I mean why to what end? also what exactly was the thing that was locked up because it sounded like a cut price Leviathan expo dump but obvs not that because a leviathan would eat Lucifer

i mean i don't think we pay enough attention to the fact that dick roman would just gobble lucifer up and end of story. bring back dick.

*Pimms lady sways dangerously close to my laptop*

I think Sam accused Dean of hallucinating "shit" on the road because it's too noisy to hear him say "sheep". I just assume that is what he actually said in the non-censored version

pls drink your Pimms fast enough to end this danger but not so fast you're sloshed and throw it on my laptop before it's all gone

Cashing in on that new Scooby Doo partnership! Some bank like Halifax is currently using Scooby Doo to sell stuff so I see that dog on telly all the time and the fact they exist in the same fictional universe as Sam and Dean is kiiiilling me. I think we have all been assuming Jack takes us to Scooby World so plonking him in front of the telly to watch some is how it all begins. Dean, like every fan fic between 13x01 and now hates Jack unreservedly for having childlike enthusiasm about the telly because Cas used to do that, while (semi)unaware that Jack is mirroring HIMSELF from 12x11 most closely right now. I think that's an interesting parallel I don't know how much work has gone into but pls poke me to write about Jack's 1 day old child-like wonder compared to sweetie pie no memory Dean if no one else has done it because they're essentially the same character from completely different angles, and we're about to hit Jack mirroring Dean excessively.

Me: don't excessively sexualise the kid

BL: "here read a book" *chucks the Bible at him* *he opens it to the Song of Solomon* We're NOT having this chat right now.

I suppose some people just meta-gasmed all over this. I don't know much about the Bible but I do know that's the sexy bit.

the "I can take the couch" conversation probably put the exact same thought process in Jack's head as mine when my very lanky brother looked at the lil brick hard bed set up in the corner of our hotel while we were stranded in Glasgow, and looked at me, princess and the pea-syndrome sufferer, and nobly offered to take a bed that *my* feet stuck 3 inches over.

No.

Thanks but no.

aw man we're only at Carlisle.

It's the promo scene as well, which mostly just drove home how much Jack is mirroring Dean... We've had basically no character interaction in the missing day, although we can assume it's mostly gone like this... Dean annoyed, Sam forgiving Jack for being adorable, and Jack being adorable. He's getting better at sarcasm as well, which can't be making Dean feel any better about him.

And that means that the "Castiel is my father" revelation happened off-screen and we're not being given any room for a reaction about it, which is the most annoying part of this. I knew 13x01 was an anomaly and going into a BL ep so soon after would deprive us of some of the emotional depth, but it's like having a bucket of cold water dumped on us :P

I think Dean's 'sometimes' about family being good is going to be a criminally underrated line and I don't even know if I can bring myself to remember it all the time in discussions about how Dean feels about family going forwards but this is a note that i heard him say it and acknowledged it means he has some issues with blood family ongoing.

Jack being adorably human blah blah, Dean aggravates the issue by being really mean about insisting Lucifer is his father and asking if he reached out to Jack and now Jack's remembering him doing that. Hey leave the kid alone, Dean, his blank slate was slightly messed up by waning to be like Cas which is obviously an excellent exemption to having a blank slate.

Maybe there's a metaphor in him agitating the bad father sitation over here.

I don't know if Jack should have asked for clarification there so let's pretend there was a hesitation and a "Ca -" "*Lucifer.* Your father." exchange. Or something.

And now Nougat is lying about emotional strife, like's been agitated into being a Winchester from his great blank slate

GAH Stop gesturing by the STILL FULL glass of Pimms

they keep topping it up and it's not good for my stress levels

I think I just missed basically everything that happened because all I could see was my own reflection but then they were like *rising tension music* *scuffle* *donatello* so I assume he jumped out on them. Mental note to go back and see who was defensive of Jack and what he did.

*casually mopping up my neighbour's Pimms as it splashes dangerously close to my laptop while listening to Donatello's exposition*

the good thing about BL episodes is that you can often just kinda chill and listen to the exposition if it's just a chunk o dialogue and nothing offensive is going on so we're making progress through the ep

*dean is super bitter about who does and doesn't have a direct line to god for some reason*

Awww Sam says they're brothers and it's a family crest when he is saying Jack should get the tattoo <3

*completely* robbed of Dean's reaction

WHY DID THEY NOT TELL JACK IT WOULD HURT

I went to the loo and came back to them wiping Pimms off their phone

Well Jack just completely put Dean in his place RE: pain, when he told him to man up about it and Jack was like right we accept pain as a sign of maturity... this is absolutely not what Dean meant but it is probably a healthier approach to it minus all the toxic masculinity

can we get to 13x03 and an ep written by Berens soon :P

Jack accidentally absorbs his warding. Oops. I guess that angel warding was a WEE bit OTT I mean I'm no expert but that looks like a total pain to be dealing with all the time for the makeup department :P

Also must have taken friggin ages

I still don't get why Donnatello is here except to use as a chip in their arguments... Ah well. Dean arguing intent doesn't matter freaky powers are freaky powers because he's still pissed about what happened to Cas and can't see the much more basic thing that Jack didn't mean to get Cas killed and OBVIOUSLY didn't intend it if he was waiting for Cas to be there for him when he popped out of the womb. I think for all the random avenues this took in fandom this is probably about as deep as the show will go if this is how BL are spelling it all out for us... And the answer is all there on the page already but we're just using Dean as the alternate side of the argument to show his own character stuff going on where he can't deal with Jack because he's upset about Cas. And he was always more concerned about Cas than the philosophy of whatever else was going on

Train going through the Lake District... I am enchanted. It's a grey day w/ very low clouds and water on the ground and all the trees are autumnal. Sue me, this is more interesting than Donatello being unhelpful. He backed up Sam's argument earlier w/ saying Lucifer felt toxic and Jack is somewhat more like his grandfather, but then once he starts talking he's like hurr blurr as a scientist nature wins and he's a monster and then Sam's like I thought you were on my side dude and then Dean angsts about Cas some more and calls Jack the devil and he decides he better start teleporting now because leave me alone not-dad and get off my case

I hope we see his wings. Dean asks in 13x01 if he had wings and equated it to teleporting and I suppose we don't know how demons do it but the assumption is if he's half-angel adn can teleport then he has wings

Oh no it is KILLING me how Jack's thing is sitting cross legged. PROTECT HIM.

Sam finds him, thankfully, after the Sad Kelly Montage. There's a very Northern man behind me talking loudly on the phone so I'm gonna concentrate SUPER HARD now

The hotel is called the Black Hat which I think is western coding for the bad guy. There was a house in the prairie art on the wall, and the single isolated house is how Jack came into the world... He's dealing with towns now.

Exposition Mooose! Telling us Dean gets some wires crossed about getting angry whe nhe's frustrated and scared like yes good expose dean for us some more... explaining him to jack is like hey so um he's an acquired taste... trying to make this about protecting everyone instead of pointing out the obvious that he blames jack for what happened to cas

Jack is a winchester because he's like maybe i'm not worth it

help

and them Sam brings up w/o knowing it was on jack's mind that kelly thought so but also is a blatant link to how they used dead!mary to guide their lives right up until she came back...

... and then so would Cas and so would I. Sam aligning himself with Jack's parents to show he has emotional guardianship of him right now

has dean gone down to the bar because it's called th eblack spur and obvs not the same one but i'm like 100% sure that's the bar from 10x01 where he was hanging with Crowley and I'm not gonna fact check that. it's "black" again aka more nature stuff, more coded evil stuff I guess? I don't know anything about Westerns I admit

And hey look a blonde bartender is chatting to him - there's a Jack ale sign on one side... and hahahahahaaaa no there's a Kingdom Beer sign behind Dean over his shoulder because the director wants to kill me

So far this is the weirdest BL episode Ive seen in a long time because they're trying so so hard to be all nuanced and deep and to explore character stuff and carry on the mood from the first episode, while being direly under-equipped to handle it, so everyone's just blurting exposition all over the place in a series of awkward exchanges. The overtness of the dialogue is actually helping in a weird way to rush through the tick boxes because Dean just admitted to seeking his neglectful father's approval from a standing start which is a sign of progress for him to just leap right into admitting his issues with John. I don't have a frame of reference for this because tired and white noise and noting we're pulling into Lancaster and it looks like rain now and there's a guy travelling with an enormous silver mirror with an ornate frame as tall as he is on the other platform and more pimms is on the table... but yeah when DID he last talk about John? Is this the increased openness since 12x22 we were hoping for? Is my backpack okay because it's in a luggage rack I can't see and if someone nicks it they're only stealing all my laundry but I like some of those t-shirts so it would be a bummer...

Lol surprise Asmodeus, no wonder she pushed all the father stuff... Was he talking about Lucifer then? It's everyone has father issues season. He's fitting in as another mirror in it all. Like the great big shiny mirror the dude at Lancaster station had. I'd honestly not be surprised if John came back in some way just cuz we had the Mary season where motherhood was a theme, and now we're doing this. I don't think John would come back for good liek Mary but they could scrounge up a more direct way of confronting his memory at least.

This also is so unsubtle bcos Dean had no idea what the bartender looked like so he coulda just tended the bar and chatted to Dean b4 he knew who Asmodues was, and we could have had some cool tension like we all know that Colonel Sanders is the bad guy and Dean's just chatting him up a bit. But then when do we ever get such things in a BL ep?

Sam just goes and spells it out about Jack being molded and the ambiguity of his father figures aka the dual nature battle they think Jack should have, with a deciding vote already thrown in there by Kelly and of course that Jack has free will and choice

So Mary just nearly got assaulted, tho not by Lucifer, which was not exactly a pleasant surprise. >.> idk what that guy's problem was but he seems to be implying women can't fight and something something I didn't catch but clearly he doesn't see a whole bunch of women. This is literally the antithesis of the show's handling of female hunters since the start so I'm going to have to assume that this is an AU thing like, total worst timeline, and everyone's sexist to boot. Not really a fan of doing this at all because why are humans made out to be just as bad as meeting angels and demons in this world - Mary being at risk from ALL of them (where is BOBBY I wanna see wtf was going on between him and AU mary and our mary and our bobby) - and it being disappointing that Mary's at risk BECAUSE she's female and might get assaulted.

Lucifer continues to try and act like a good guy by saving Mary and then of course the Nice Guy twist that always comes - if you won't give me what I want that I'm pretending is mutually beneficial then I will just hurt you.

They're chilling by that church from 8x23 now so I guess Mikey will be along soon.

Preston Station looks like a hellscape as well - it's packed and there's no ticket barriers. I'm so glad we were only passing through

Dean comes in and sits down with Sam with the shadows of the blinds falling over them - prison imagery I missed you! We're trapped in these mindsets...

Sam wants to get them on the same page and Dean is like F U and Sam's like lemme do exposition while you sit with the shadow over your eyes.

I wish there was a shadow falling over my eyes... We've passed back through to hazy sunlight south of Preston.

Sam says people who we love, and who have been in our lives for a long time, in such a way I bet some asshole is excluding Cas from one category bcos Mary doesn't count in the long time category so maybe one is for her and one is for Cas

obviously that's the real donatello because he only cares about breakfast and is an object of ridicule while Asmodeus was presumably the other and actually talking plot.

this is an idiot ball moment tbh because Jack hasn't been in any hotel scenes for a while and somehow we've shuffled through all the characters here and not had any of them with Jack or checking where he is despite him being the most precious cargo, and it was bugging me earlier that dontatello and sam talking meant jack was alone because he wouldn't be w/ dean so where was he but Sam didn't ask? they just chatted? And obvs that was asmodeus but yeah... no one's keeping an eye on him and D. wasn't even supposed to be taking Jack to get breakfast or what? If that wasn't him then what exactly did Sam think Jack was up to?

Also Sam tanking the mytharc Dean tanking the personal arc - he talks to both of them w/o them knowing and guess what each's conversation is

And also Dean came in with food as well like there's major miscommunication going on here if the real donatello was getting breakfst and so was Dean but is that the point or is that just a plothole where this doesn't add up properly if you actually try and map who knew what and - was Dean the one SUPPOSED to be watching Jack? But Sam didn't ask him either.

Anyway here's the demon that Dean's entire fight scene is about straddling to death.

I also loved his march down to the room where he was all in shadows

The last shot of that fight though where Dean's cowering away from the demon on a bed while it advances on him with a knife

like wow that was a good fight scene for the dynamics going on there. Dean as a victim being absolutely dominated by that demon and all the associated knife and weirdass positions imagery. Dean on that table with his legs around the demon is like an entire meta on its own as well

okay it was too bright when I saw the scene where Asmodeus was talking about that whatever it was he let out but I THINK that was the same demon I thought I saw overhearing it and now I am wondering what on earth that was about because Dean just killed him :P

Awww Jack out in nature. I love the flowers and the buzz of insects and life all around him. And Asmodeus is testing him.

Okay it's been like one episode how can he have character inconsistency with himself from earlier in the episode - he now wants to unleash the things he got in trouble for unleashing before? I mean unless he's decided that Lucifer really isn't coming back so might as well just throw a party while there's no adult supervision, and get back to all that chaos and destruction he loves. If he thought there was remotely a chance Lucifer would come back he wouldn't do it, but then is he just doing it now out of spite that Lucifer told him no before, and instead of whatever nonsense he said about family dynamics back then is not really true at all because he wants to rebel now instead.

If Jack unleashes the thing because he was tricked then it will be the biggest Sam and Cas mirror thing ever and will set him up with some angst and guilt for the rest of the season.

One of the downsides of Dean not getting along with him is that Jack doesn't know how much scepticism about God is a healthy amount in this universe. He basically just knows that God is his grandfather and family is usually good. But God is suuuch a bad concept to rally behind here, it's not even like God wouldn't ask him to do it because God never tells anyone what to do about anything (which is like the first thing Dean would have told Jack if he hadn't still been sulking God wouldn't lift a finger to help him over the whole dead Cas issue), God would also just never have any positive reinforcement for anyone or get excited about having a grandson, at least in a way to get actively involved :P

I mean Chuck probs thought that Donatello making his way to Jack was about as useful as he could be and that immediately went sour when no one kept 2 pairs of eyes on each other at all times.

Wyoming has some pretty nasty stuff under it :P

I wonder if Hell maps exactly to earth but just kinda deeper.

Also point to me for rambling about hell gates earlier and then Asmodeus actually listening to my suggestion box for once. Maybe he will be the one character who can actually hear me in this show.

Hey you, you're an asshole

Is Lucifer aware he literally just lead them in a circle because I am so not telling him that, because it's too funny.

I hope Jack didn't inherit his sense of direction but this is Dabb era, as soon as that kid gets a car, trouble starts.

The midlands are so bleak.

These angels are wearing heavy tactical gear and yet more kneepads. The human had them too. This is just kneepad world. I don't see the necklaces of baby ears so maybe that design thing got ditched or maybe Bobby was being metaphorical. The important thing is they don't look like Cas. The weird thing is we know Mikey's costume sort of does look like a ragged Cas.

Anyway Lucifer is so offended to hear Michael killed him even though it was literally the most obvious thing ever the entire time we've known about them and since 12x12 we've had extra info to prove it :P

Omg why are you opening champagne on a traaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain

MIKEY

He wanders in like hey I'm awesome but also I need to immediately open with super obvious exposition lines

Lucifer accuses him of being dressed like he came from a western too which goes with the thematics back in the Earth part of the story and also makes me think maybe the costuming choice was supposed to kinda mirror Frontierland Dean's 2nd costume because why the fuck not this is Dabb era, rules are for suckers :P

I can't see it w/o the hat but maybe he has a hat elsewhere.

this hole down into the centre of the earth looks REMARKABLY like the one the 2nd season of Shadowhunters had in the season finale, so I need Magnus to just wander over the rise and close it now. Also his eyes glow gold and cat like. Is his power literally equivalent to Jack's? He's like ridiculously OP in that show. I guess all that hiatus watching was research.

Ah, Asmodeus has learned the "Oh shit it's the Winchesters" moment already, especially recognising the car. Them driving right onto the scene has the oddest shades of 5x22 without anything being remotely like it except it's a field, hole in the earth, and car.

Okay why did Donatello yell "that's not Donatello"

this is like the reverse of the best version of this scene I've ever heard which is the one from the end of Here Be Gerblins in the Adventure Zone which I will not spoil for you except to say this is the worst and also it doesn't take too much listening to get to that point and I nearly cried laughing so you should probably go listen. More hiatus watching research!

The other option is D is having a total crisis of self w/o a soul or the evil D is actually the real thing and Asmodeus is helping them for some reason.

LOL he's like hi I'm Crowley's replacement so the line now is "howdy boys" intead of hello boys

As soon as Jack knows what's up and sees his new peeps getting hurt he stops because he is precious and he did nothing wrong and I love him

AWW HE THINKS THEY'RE HIS FRIENDS I LOVE YOU NOUGAT

Deal with that, Dean.

Mary like "... should I be shuffling backwards?" "I SHOULD BE SHUFFLING BACKWARDS, BYE"

Lucifer said he needed Mary, Mikey says he needs Lucifer... I think that phrase is being turned over and ruined now. The necessary step of Dean having said it to Cas that one time when he shoulda said I love you... They had a brief critique of "need and want" and some stuff about i and we, which was what last season was doing, but Cas feels bad bcos he feels needed but not wanted, and this is as much as Dean has said to him - from the depths of his heart - but it's not enough because that was season 8 and he hasn't felt like he belongs and he needs that I love you. Uh but w/o using "need" - look, they're gesticulating with champagne again, I have 1 eye on this at best as we roll through the midlands for an eternity :P Anyway I guess it is time to put "need" in the firing line as the Wrong Word that means that you're USING someone.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? DEAN DOES NOT SIT AT THE TABLE LIKE THAT. OH MY POOR, POOR BROKEN CHILD LET ME HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS

I know it's probably for that wonderful shot of them through the door but Dean fundamentally does not sit up against the wall - he and Sam have their places at that table when they have their chats and it's a serious thing since the entire time theyve been using the kitchen for important plot chats.

Anyway he super not okay bcos that's his seat he sits at when he's in his proper place in the dynamic - or improper one but the point is the dynamic is the dynamic when they sit opposite each other and Dean's opted out and flopped back against the wall instead of sitting where he normally does when he and Sam are in balance. Sam's connection to his seat has some other flavours of his side of the codependency issues but largely about his lack of assertiveness or getting too messed up about saving Dean, so we'll see

AAAH Sam is sitting one seat over as well.

I know it's a free table but there's 8 seats and REMARKABLY little flexibility about it.

Dean's wearing a black henley which is also baaad news. *pats him on the head and follows with a blanket*

Sam stands (or sits) his ground

Dean, gosh, I don't like when the camera follows you because this is probably going to be awful for my heart.

We also have not really had his POV much this ep except the Asmodeus chat up scene

He's mostly reacted. Like he thinks Jack is only reacting.

I DON'T LIKE THIS SCENE

PROTECT JACK FROM HIMSELF TOO

I hope he was just being curious like a super amped up version of how Kira on Orphan Black found out she has super healing powers so sliced her own arm open while being scared and fascinated with what she was and pissed off the adults wouldn't tell her anything but this was gross and violent and pls protect Jack because that was awful.

Dean's suitably horrified though because he has to contemplate Jack is just as freaked out and lost as he is about this whole thing because this is a gross and horrifying way to show that Jack is as fucked up and lost as the rest of them. I don't think he was actually trying to kill himself esp. because he knew the angel blade already stabbed him and did nothing and even if he doesn't know what it is and why that's signficant he knows he didn't die of something that should have killed him... I hope it's just childlike curiosity mixed with bleak existential horror as he comes to understand how much he doesn't understand himself even in the context of the world he's in...

OH NO

but also good lines of dialogue they acted super well. Jack is starting to think he can't be saved if Dean doesn't think it and is silently asking him to do it because he doesn't want to hurt people and oh gosh this isn't 10x09 at all where Deran asked Cas to do it to him... But completely different emotional landscape where Dean WOULD do it and wants to and Jack is only just starting to doubt himself and wonder if he would hurt people and the important thing is not like Dean thinking there was a line he would cross and half-tricking Cas into saying he'd do it by asking him for a favour first, but Cas not being able to oblige him in 10x22... This is Jack being such a good pure piece of nougat that he's SCARED of what he is and what he can do and beginning to think that he might need to be killed esp. because Dean thinks so and this has been a bad day for him... even though again his nature shone through, Dean thinks it was a "sneeze" and Jack still doesn't have a developed enough moral compass to understand what he did except that we can see it was a good thing.

And final shot Jack reflected in the mirror all bloody and sad and I need to zoom in on that later to see his face because like magic the sun is out again when I want to look at the screen.

End episode here. Good. That means Dean angstily listening to music is in 13x03 almost for sure because I want it to be (uh, sorry that's not science :P) but it would be a great Berens to Berens chat with self about 9x14 and Dean angstily listening to music there.

I am not actually where were we are any more except powering towards London, but I'm gonna put my laptop away because they're still topping up the champagne and I just survived a BL episode where nothing so awful happened that I can see the fandom outrage from a million miles away and the worst I can say is that they are an exposition machine and I wish they had more nuanced dialogue because in someone else's hands that character stuff would have been delivered well rather than just delivered :P

#13x02 #my stuff #season 13 spoilers #I actually got some of this answered by Tink & co on whatsapp later #but then I had to explain my #look at this effin table #tag to them and me vs typos while texting and no signal in the bleak wilderness #yeah I hope they even have half a clue what I was on about :D #tomorrow I will have to make a post about wtf is going on with that table but tl:dr I flipped out about it completely #and regret that the last time i was drawn to make a Big Post about it it was from the Destiel perspective #with just a handful of codependency chat #because now I really really wish I had a big post about the codependency stuff there #with just a sprinkle of the Destiel stuff on the side #NOT PROOF READ HOLY SHIT LIKE NOT AT ALL WHO AM I WHERE AM I #I am lucky this entire post isn't soaked in a glaswegian's prosecco

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dani-ellie03 · 7 years ago

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Fic: Wednesday’s Child (8/?)

Title: Wednesday’s Child Summary: The next time Emma Swan wanted magical help, she was on her own. Because now they were stuck with a pint-sized savior who clearly had an attitude problem and a terrified but pretending not to be pre-pirate. Spoilers: If you’re current, we’re good. Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for safety. Family angst/fluff, as per usual. Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I’m just borrowing them but I’ll put them back when I’m finished! Author’s Note: Daddy Charming/Mama Snow/wee Emma time ahoy! I couldn't help myself. O:)

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{1} {2} {3} {4} {5} {6} {7}

At ff.net and below.

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"I know it wasn't exactly the best idea to let them sit in front of the television this long," Snow murmured to her husband, "but look at them, Charming."

Oh, he was looking. He couldn't stop looking, his loving gaze taking in every single detail of the scene in front of him. Henry's barely concealed wonder as he played with his tiny mother and stepfather, the sheer pride on little Killian's face when he finally won a race, the amused smile brightening little Emma's eyes at the teasing conversation that had sprung up during the game.

"Sometimes it's all right to let children while away the afternoon in front of a video game," he agreed just as softly, "especially when it results in those expressions on their faces."

To everyone's surprise, Super Mario Kart had carried the children through the rest of the afternoon. Snow and Charming stayed in the living room with them, enjoying their spirited running commentary on the races. Even after Neal woke from his nap, Snow brought him downstairs to let him crawl around the living room and whichever child didn't have a controller in his or her hand at the moment played with the baby instead.

It was a relaxing afternoon filled with gentle togetherness, something both little Emma and little Killian sorely needed.

Dinnertime, however, was fast approaching. A reluctant Charming caught his wife's equally reluctant gaze. Neither of them wanted to leave the room but they would have four hungry children on their hands soon and dinner wouldn't cook itself.

As one, they stood. The memory of the way Emma balked at being left earlier, even for a few minutes, prompted Charming to announce their plans. "We're going to get dinner started."

"Sounds good to me," Henry said without looking away from the television.

Killian, who was currently trailing Henry by two spots in the third race in the circuit, looked over his shoulders at the adults just long enough to give them a pleasant, "All right!"

A soft smile tugged at Charming's lips. The boy was having too much fun to worry about the adults leaving the room, which, in all honesty, was just as it should be.

Emma, on the other hand, sat up a little straighter next to Wilby, her nervous gaze darting back and forth between Charming and Snow. The quiet panic on her face shattered Charming's heart. His poor little girl, so scared of being alone yet so hesitant to let anyone in.

Back when the first Curse broke, Charming had watched his baby girl struggle with the same issues. She hadn't wanted to be alone anymore but feared that anyone she let in would disappoint her as everyone else had. She'd been afraid of letting herself love and letting herself be loved because of the fear of that love going away.

It had taken every single paternal instinct Charming had in his body to let Emma learn to trust them and accept their love at her own pace when all he really wanted to do was wrap her in a crushing hug and never let her go.

It had been heartbreaking watching her struggle as an adult but it was soul-crushing watching her struggle as a child.

He wanted nothing more than to gather his little girl in his arms and hold her until she understood just how much she was loved. Just how much she was cherished. But for this little girl who'd been so hurt and so abandoned, it was too soon for that kind of contact. Once again, he had to let things unfold at her pace and let her come to them when she was ready to let them in.

That didn't mean, though, that he and Snow couldn't gently help the process along. "Would you like to help us, Emma?" he asked, trying to inject his voice with a nonchalant lilt.

Emma considered her options for a moment, her eyes once again darting between the adults. Snow smiled at the little girl in an effort to set her at ease. "We'd love the company."

That got her to smile a little bit. "Okay," she said as she pushed herself to her feet. Wilby lifted his head at her movement, readying himself to go with her if needed. She rubbed his head and whispered, "You can stay here with Killian and Henry. I'll be okay."

Talk about heart melting. When Charming looked over at Snow, he was sure the love shining in her eyes was mirrored in his own.

As the three of them headed to the kitchen, Charming reached down for Emma's hand. She took it without a second thought and some paternal instinct he didn't quite understand led him to start running his thumb along the back of her hand. She smiled up at him and for a few brief moments, he was walking on air.

Once in the kitchen, though, she let go of his hand and instead rested her elbows on the counter. "What are we going to have for dinner?"

"Hmm." Snow made a show of pretending to think over her menu options, making Emma giggle. "Does spaghetti sound good to you, sweetheart?"

Spaghetti was one of adult Emma's favorite meals; clearly Snow was banking on little Emma feeling the same. And if the smile on the girl's face was any indication, she did. "Spaghetti sounds great," she replied.

"All right, Miss Emma," Charming said as he hefted a stock pot into the sink to fill, "have you ever made spaghetti before?"

The girl sadly shook her head. That decided it, then. Both her culinary inexperience and her sadness were going to be remedied this very moment. "Would you like to learn?"

"Yes, please," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

And so began another cooking lesson. After eliciting a promise that she would never try to cook unattended, Charming and Snow showed her how to prepare the meal, from heating the sauce through in a pot while the water boiled to seasoning the water to stirring the pasta to keep it from clumping together.

"You're doing great, kiddo," Charming said after she (very carefully) slid the frozen garlic knots in the oven to bake.

"Thanks."

Snow waited until she'd closed the oven door before taking a chance and lightly slinging her arm around her little girls shoulders for a beat. "One day, sweetheart, we'll have to teach you how to make spaghetti from scratch."

The girl blinked in confusion. "From scratch?"

"You've never had homemade pasta?" Snow asked. Emma shook her head. "Well, we definitely have to change that! It's actually not hard to make. All you need is eggs, flour, water, and some time."

"And a broom," Charming added, "because making homemade pasta can get messy."

"Messy like Killian's cookies?" Emma asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Exactly right, kiddo," Charming laughed. "You thought Killian's puff of flour was messy? Wait until you have to sweep up after making spaghetti. The flour gets everywhere and the dough is sticky." He gave an exaggerated wrinkle of his nose, once again making the girl giggle. "But it's fun."

"Could we make it tomorrow?"

"We'll see," Snow chuckled, her heart leaping for joy at the girl's enthusiasm.

Emma smiled and then let them show her how to tell by a quick taste test whether the pasta was done. Since adult Emma didn't like her pasta al dente, it was no surprise that little Emma didn't, either. "Some people really eat it like that?" she asked after trying an al dente noodle. "Spaghetti shouldn't be crunchy."

(The noodle wasn't exactly "crunchy" but Charming understood her point.)

When it came time to strain the pasta, Charming asked Emma to stand back so she wouldn't get burned. "And this is where you get a quick but nice facial," he teased as steam billowed up from the colander.

Emma chuckled and watched intently as he transferred the pasta from the colander to the serving bowl and tossed it with the now-heated sauce. It was as he was setting the serving bowl on the table that she spoke up again. "I like that you guys call me kiddo and sweetheart. No one's ever given me special names before."

It was a confession that seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Charming. Snow, however, didn't look as thrown. After a moment, Charming understood why. Adult Emma had a tendency do the same thing: wait until she was comfortable before saying what was really on her mind.

He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. Surprisingly, she didn't pull away. "I'm very sorry no one's ever given you a pet name before, Emma. You're a special little girl and I hope that someday you'll understand just how amazing you are."

She looked deep into his eyes, searching them the way she'd searched Snow's. Searching for signs that it was okay to let him in, too. Finally, she said, "It's okay. Things are different now, aren't they? You're different. You both are."

Different from the other adults she'd known in her life, Charming assumed, and he nodded. "Yes, kiddo, we are."

She smiled. "I can tell."

Once again, he wanted so badly to pull his little girl into a hug but something told him it was still too soon. Hell, it was breakthrough enough that she was letting him take her hands! He settled for giving her a watery smile in return. "I'm glad you can tell." Then, before the contact had a chance to make her uncomfortable, he released her hands and stood up straight.

When Emma grabbed the plates to set the table, Charming exchanged a tender glance over her head with his wife. Tears brimmed in her eyes, loving tears from observing the moment father and daughter connected, even if daughter was unaware of the true nature of their relationship.

Charming felt every inch of the depth of that connection he'd just shared with Emma. He'd gotten through to his baby girl and had let her know that she had nothing to fear from them. That they wouldn't leave her like everyone else had. That she was theirs forever. It was such a gravely important moment and yet one that left him lighter than air.

The three of them set the pasta, extra sauce, and garlic knots on the table and called for Henry and Killian to turn off the games and come to the dining room. The boys bounded into the room while Charming was pouring their drinks, Wilby on their heels. Henry passed Neal to Snow, who got him settled in his high chair as the kids took their seats at the table.

Though it shouldn't have surprised him, Charming's heart leaped in his chest when Wilby settled under the table at Emma's feet. The dog didn't typically join the family for dinner, which led Charming to believe that he was sticking close to Emma because he sensed she needed his presence. A lost lamb, physically different from those the dog usually tended but no different emotionally.

From the glistening of Snow's eyes, it was clear that she'd come to the same conclusion. He gave her a watery smile of his own and the two of them shook off the emotion for the children's sakes. "All right," Snow said, a tremor in her voice that Charming was sure only he could hear the only outward indication of her near tears, "everyone dig in."

Killian eyed the meal as if unsure what to make of it. Emma smiled at him to set him at ease. "It's spaghetti and garlic bread. You're going to love it."

"You're sure?" he asked her softly.

She nodded. "Totally sure."

At first poor Killian couldn't figure out how to get the long noodles on his fork but after observing Emma, he twirled his fork on the side of his plate to gather the spaghetti for easier eating. The second he popped the noodles into his mouth, his eyes brightened. "I like the food in this realm a lot!" he said after he swallowed, making everyone chuckle.

"We're glad you like it, buddy," Charming said.

"You have to try the bread, too," Emma said as she snagged a garlic knot from the serving platter and dropped it onto the edge of Killian's plate. "It's so good."

He took another tentative bite and then grinned. "This is really good!"

Emma smiled at him. "Told you."

As dinner continued and conversation sprung up, Charming took in every detail, his heart full. Just as Snow had said earlier, this time with Emma and Killian being little was good for everyone. It hadn't even been a full day yet and these two lonely and abandoned children were comfortably enjoying a family meal and having fun just being together.

With any luck, by the time Regina figured out how to return them to their adult selves, they would have more memories just like these to look back on, bright spots in otherwise hellish childhoods. These two children should know how it felt to have love and support and comfort. They deserved that much; every child deserved that much. And Charming vowed that he and Snow would show them exactly how living with a loving family truly felt.

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Chapter Nine

#ouat ff #charming family ff #cs ff #cs fic #daddy charming #mama snow #emma swan #killian jones #henry mills #my fic

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tkmedia · 3 years ago

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Frank Warren Talks British Boxing TV, Yarde, Arthur, Parker, More

WHEN THE FOOTBALL is poised to draw to a close we are ready to return a serving of top boxing back to your screens on July 10 in one of London’s most regal settings. The venue for our BT broadcast fistic delivery is the grand old Royal Albert Hall, which we have happily restored to the boxing map over the last couple of years or so. There really is no place like it for watching the sport and, if you haven’t experienced it, I recommend you giving it a bash. We are set to shine a light on our elite band of light heavyweights on the night, with a strong view to them getting it on in the not too distant future. Unfortunately, one of our terrific trio at the weight, the hammer-punching Callum Johnson, has sustained hand injury that prevents him building on his brutal return to the ring in April. What we do have is both Lyndon Arthur and Anthony Yarde on parade against unbeaten opponents before they will seek to settle a personal score later in the year. Lyndon, the No.1 contender for the WBO world title belt held by Joe Smith, defends his Inter-Continental title against Italian champion Davide Faraci (15-0, 7 KOs) in what will be his first appearance since his memorable outpointing of Anthony at the end of the last year. King Arthur is raring to get going again and defend his place on the light heavyweight throne. Lyndon underwent hand surgery following his December dust-up so he is looking to make up for lost time and get a win in the bank before talk turns to the return fixture. Anthony, who also should have fought by now if it wasn’t for a dental procedure, really has the bit between his teeth now after coming a close second to Lyndon in London. He has taken a step back and examined his training structure, adding the experienced James Cook to his team, while vowing to revert to the explosive version of himself, or ‘beast mode’, as he would describe it. His mission is not to allow his fighting fate to be determined by the views of three judges. Anthony, who remains one of the most popular, exciting and charismatic personalities in the game, goes in against the 17-0 German Emin Atra from Germany, who himself has 12 KOs to his name. Assuming both are successful within the stunning circular architecture of the Albert Hall, we will look to push forward with the already-agreed rematch and that will be a punch-up worth waiting for in the autumn. Another who is right on the cusp of making his presence felt at world championship level is our fairly recent super middleweight signing Zach Parker. I was mightily impressed with his work when he demolished the previously unstopped Vaughn Alexander on his first appearance for us and he demonstrated why he holds a top ranking with the WBO. Everyone is aware that Canelo is three quarters of his way through his mission statement of intending to completely unify the 168lbs division and it is expected that he will finish the job against Caleb Plant in September. This gives us the opportunity to top up Zach’s experience and, at the same time, increase awareness of his ability and the threat he poses to the top dogs of the division. It is unlikely that Canelo will see fit to accept the challenges of four different mandatory nominations, so we will have to see how it all plays out and have Zach ready to seize his moment when it arrives. I see that he has been playing with tanks and crushing cars, so he should be ready for battle against Sherzod Khusanov, the experienced Uzbek with 10 KOs and no stoppages in the debit column. Currently 20-0 with 14KOs and entering his peak years at 27, I am confident that Zach can become Britain’s new force in what is a marquee division in the sport. Archie Sharp also holds ambitions to get himself into the world title mix and he can reinforce his ranking by winning the WBO Global belt against Marcio Soza, the Nicaraguan who is on an 11-fight winning streak. Archie has been dropping names such as Jamel Herring and Shakur Stevenson into conversations, but he needs to put his marker down via his own exploits in the ring after a couple of, by his own admission, below par performances. He is in a great place to push on and realise his ambitions having made the switch to Alan Smith’s Queensberry iBox Gym and I feel certain Al will make the improvements necessary for Archie to take the next big step. Also out of the iBox and back on July 10 is our Dennis ‘The Menace’ McCann, who is promising to be back with a bang after taking a short break following his last fight. Dennis has benefitted from the valuable experience of being taken the distance in his last two fights, but it is not an experience he particularly wants to get used to and he intends on putting a tick in the stoppage column against the Tanzanian John Chuwa, who holds a 20-4 record, with 10 KOs. Add to all that the ferocious 2016 Olympian Muhammad Ali, the lightweight force of nature Sam Noakes and the classy Olympic Youth gold medallist Karol Itauma and it is safe to say we are in for some night of action at the finest venue in boxing. BRITISH BOXING’S BROADCAST reshuffle appears to be taking shape now and, in my book, it is definitely good news that Sky Sports have signalled their intent to remain a player in boxing. To lose a major television outlet would have been a significant blow and, although sometimes people don’t believe us when we say this as promoters, but competition is good and vital to the long-term health of the sport. The more channels, the more fights, more opportunities for fighters, more eyeballs and more exposure – it is what we need and it strengthens everyone’s hand in trying to deliver the best fights we can to the fans. All that being said about Sky Sports, I couldn’t help but being delighted that Queensberry scored a little triumph in the final show of their Matchroom contract. A member of the overseas contingent we represent, Jeremias Ponce, scored a resounding victory over the home favourite Lewis Ritson up in Newcastle in what was a final eliminator for a shot at the IBF world super lightweight title. It means we now have two mandatory challengers in place for a tilt at the titles held by Josh Taylor, the other being Jack Catterall. If Jack manages to overcome Josh in their scheduled fight later this year, Jeremias will be right in line for a shot at the spoils. Whichever way it plays out, our young Argentinian looks to have a big future in front of him and fully deserves the opportunities that will come his way. Read the full article

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d2kvirus · 5 years ago

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Dickheads of the Month: February 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of February 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

The issue with the Tory government being stuffed with morons and sociopaths is that it leads to solutions such as their new immigration policy which equates anyone earning less than £24k a year with being an “unskilled worker” so therefore not eligible for a visa...when in reality that is unreasonably raising the bar, which becomes immediately obvious when you realise that the majority of entry-level positions within the NHS are paid less than that per annum. But fret not, they also have a solution in the sudden gap of 8m in the workforce, namely having the “economically inactive” fill the gap...even though that figure is primarily made up by the elderly, the terminally ill, and students who are currently working on that “low skilled” issue whose post-graduation salaries are estimated at around £18k a year

Unelected bureaucrat/organ grinder Dominic Cummings had a genius idea for proven liar Boris Johnson’s first cabinet reshuffle: eliminate anyone who might possibly have any semblance of an idea of their own (plus Esther McVey) and install a bunch of unthinking drones into the cabinet who will all follow his specific instructions...which sounds a lot like communism, doesn’t it?

We should almost thank Andrew Sabitsky for proving exactly what Dominic Cummings’ directive of “misfits and weirdos” really meant, namely that what Cummings wanted was somebody whose track record includes saying that black people are intellectually and genetically inferior on multiple occasions, calling for forced contraception for the lower classes and attending eugenics conferences, and that’s somebody who fits the profile of being appointed special advisor to the Prime Minister

In the latest example of The Department of Work and Pensions appearing to exist for the sole purpose of committing an ideological genocide on the lower classes, it emerged that they had been destroying reports of former claimants who committed suicide after their benefits were stopped - and had been doing so since at least 2015

Has anyone noticed that proven liar Boris Johnson didn't show up in Yorkshire with a mop and bucket when it was flooded again? Or did anyone notice that, when the official line was given that he didn't want to cause a media frenzy by showing up and instead wanted to put his feet up at a lakeside mansion to do...whatever it was that he was doing, it appears to have forgotten that he didn't mind showing up in flood-hit areas with the resulting media frenzy when there was an election campaign going on?

The estate of George Orwell will want a word with Lee Cain following his role in proven liar Boris Johnson’s “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” moment where he divided journalists into two groups before a Downing Street briefing, before telling journalists from one of the groups - who were from the Mirror, Independent, Huffington Post and PoliticsHome, that they should leave as they are not welcome

In the latest example of Question Time being an echo chamber for the far-right, they bussed in two-time National Front candidate Sherri Bothwell to sit front and centre of the audience and be the person to ask the first question of the show...if going off on a rant about how we should close our borders constitutes a “question” - although it does constitute a blatant violation of editorial guidelines

Smirking cretin Priti Patel demonstrated her statesmanlike credentials when facing a question about forced deportations in the House of Commons...by getting the hell out of the chamber before she could even hear the full question, presumably because staying in the chamber would potentially involve having to face scrutiny or criticism and that’s not how the Tories work

It’s no surprise that the FBPE mob responded to the first anniversary of the formation of The Independent Hashtag Group for Hashtag Change UK Hashtag Ltd by hand-wringing about how a potential force for good in British politics failed, because if they didn’t they might have to accept that their blindly believing in one “centrist” neoliberal careerist after another, from Chuka Umunna to Jo Swinson to Jess Phillips and numerous other examples aside, played a large part in why man of the people/proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson is currently Prime Minister

Good to see the Chinese government coming up with the best possible solution to the Super Magic Chinese Megaflu of DEATH epidemic by...adding World War Z to the ever-growing list of books banned by the Chinese government. I don’t know why, though, it's not like it says Xi Jinping looks like Winnie the Pooh or anything...

Of course the English media responded to the Irish election result, where the incumbent Fine Gael lost out to a combination of Sinn Fein gaining the most first-choice votes and Fianna Fail getting the most second choice votes by reporting why this was the case...oh who am I kidding, of course they bloody didn’t, they only looked at through the usual English-centric prism and assumed that Britait was the reason why Fine Gael lost out, completely ignoring there was a unique consensus between all three parties that Britait is A Bad Idea that has also led the bigheaded gobshites from across the water to treat the irish like some second-class citizens who should shut up and fall in line behind their imperialistic masters

Once again the point-missers of the internet seem to think that you can use suicide rates as the basis for a game of Top Trumps, as there was a depressingly vocal section who responded to Caroline Flack’s suicide by comparing the number of suicides related to Love Island to the number related to The Jeremy Kyle Show as if it’s a football match and Love Island is currently “winning” 3-2

It was a busy day for smirking cretin Priti Patel as she had to simultaneously deny *deep breath* that MI5 have been actively withholding sensitive information from her as they see her as a threat to national security (and have grounds to see her as one...), that she hasn’t been bullying Home Office staff since getting her feet under the desk, that she didn’t force anyone out of the Home Office because they wouldn’t blindly follow every insane directive she could think of and it’s just a coincidence that attempts were made to remove Sir Philip Rutnam from the department...at least until Rutnam called her a liar, that is

Self-appointed voice of all Jewish football fans David Baddiel was as predictable as he was vocal in his disgust at the Oxford English Dictionary changing the definition of the word “Yid” to include Tottenham fans, leading to him howling about how Spurs fans have no right to reclaim the word while pretending that he doesn’t know the reason why Spurs have reclaimed the word, namely their regularly being serenaded with chants about Auschwitz, gas chambers and the Holocaust by Chelsea fans since the 1970s due to the club’s Jewish identity. Chelsea fans such as...David Baddiel

Littlest Englander contender Douglas Carswell gleefully took to Twitter on February 1st to say the UK hadn’t collapsed into a pit after leaving the EU...meaning that either he doesn't understand that the UK is still in the EU as part of a transition period, or he knows this but knows that his followers don’t know this so thinks doing a victory lap during the warm-ups is normal

You would think that The Jewish Chronicle admitting that they fabricated stories of Louise Ellman being an antisemite and having to pay her damages would have gained more traction, but by complete coincidence they were being drowned out by David Baddiel and Stephen Pollard coincidentally throwing out a lot of think pieces about how Tottenham fans are the Third Reich unlike those nice, reasonable Chelsea supporters...

Of course Blizzard were going to have to issue a statement addressing the launch of Warcraft 3: Reforged going so well that the game has a record Metacritic user score of 0.5 at one point, but Blizzard being Blizzard the “apology” was more along the lines of saying they were sorry that fans didn’t get the game they wanted, in other words trying to transfer blame onto them that the game shown in the teasers bore no resemblance to those in the finished game while pretending that there hasn’t been a cascade of criticism about their new policy that says any user-created mods will become Blizzard’s own property, in other words admit fault...which they never will

The latest non-logic from the BBC states that, if a Tory MP refuses to appear on any of their programming, they will cancel the appearance of whichever Labour MP that was also booked, in other words responding to the Dominic Cummings issuing a media blackout by silencing the Opposition in his stead

What better advertisement for Australian policing than Mark Thompson taking a moment to forget that he was Detective Inspector for the murders of Hannah Baxter and her children when her estranged husband set their car on fire before killing himself and instead decided to suggest that maybe she nagged him too much and that’s what led to the tragedy

Becoming a homeopathic mentalist hasn't done Gwyneth Paltrow any favours, considering that the second that there was so much as a whiff of criticism about he waffling about coffee enemas solving all ills on her Netflix show she responded by howling about how valid criticism from qualified health professionals is “clickbait” and not, say, valid criticism from qualified health professionals

Nobody seemed to explain to Dele Alli that posting a video on social media cracking jokes about coronavirus isn't a good idea as people are going to see it, and more than anything else spend a good couple of days flooding Tottenham’s Twitter feed with “DID YOU KNOW DELE ALLI MADE A RACIST POST ON SOCIAL MEDIA???” more times than anyone is willing to count

What a great piece of advice Ninja gave to everyone, namely that if you lose in a video game the only sane and rational response is to get angry and, if you don’t, this makes you “weak”

So much for “Mad” Mike Hughes and his attempt to prove that the earth is flat by using a homemade steam-powered rocket, as instead he made a reasonably-sized crater in the San Bernardino desert which proved that the earth is pretty goddamn hard when you plow into it from several thousand feet in the air while going at an estimated 350mp

Good to see that Jess Phillips is handling her failure in the Labour leadership race well, with her mouthing off at an event commemorating female journalists by harrumphing that it’s a pity that Labour has never had a female leader...while both Rebecca Long-Bailey and Lisa Nandy remain in the leadership contest

And finally, a little more puffed up than usual, is Donald Trump and his sociopathic response to the Republicans allowing him to slither out from the sights of impeachment which was rewarded by him bringing down the axe on anyone who put the party (or, you know, country) ahead of him, which somehow looks less deranged than him mouthing off about Parasite winning Best Picture at the oscars because something something trade deal

#dickheads of the month

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wrebeccawrites · 5 years ago

Text

The Missing Six Months

Here’s a quick one-shot about Grizz and Sam getting closer during the six months when we don’t see them:

Sam’s afternoon was going perfectly fine until someone whapped the back of his head with a CPR manual. He turned his body around in the old floral print Lay-Z Boy he currently occupied to flip off his assailant.

“Come to the hospital with me,” Grizz signed as he spoke, dropping the manual onto the floor. Over the past few weeks, he had picked up enough ASL to impress Sam. The two of them dedicated a few hours a day after work to sit in the living room and go over phrases. Most of the time they ended up traveling way off course talking about their favorite movies and acting them out. Both of the boys were deeply disappointed that they would never see the newest Avengers film. However, Sam was convinced Grizz’s rendition of the plot was better than anything the Russo Brothers could produce. Watching him improvise entire fight sequences while attempting to sign the dialogue made for a glorious mess. Any phrase he didn’t know, he tried to spell out.

Now he looked very eager to get out of the house. Both of his hands were stuffed into his front pockets as he rocked on the balls of his feet. It made the little bun on top of his head bounce.

Sam smiled, “Why are you going to the hospital?”

Grizz held his hand out, pulling him up, as he replied, “It’s an adventure.”

Sam rolled his eyes as got off the chair. It would take them at least 30 minutes to walk to there. Allie had taken the car that morning. But he did need some fresh air and it looked like Grizz needed to blow of some steam. They made their way to the hall closet and Grizz grabbed both of their coats. He shrugged on his own then held out Sam’s.

“I can put my own coat on, dumb ass,” Sam told him as his stuffed both his arms into it. Grizz let go of the jacket and patted him on the back, “Don’t shit on my kind gestures. Let’s go!”

As they walked into the fresh fall day, Sam pulled out his phone and texted Becca going on some errands, be home soon. Need anything while I’m out? She texted back, Thank God you’re out of the house, I can finally masturbate. Which made him chuckle at his phone.

Grizz bumped his arm, “What are you laughing at?”

“Becca is happy I’m out of the house,” he looked at Grizz’s questioning eyes and continued, “She can finally masturbate.”

“Oh, um, that’s kind of private, right?”

“Everyone has needs. And you have to admit it’s been pretty difficult to,” then Sam signed flicking the bean and continued, “While everyone is living together.”

Grizz scrunched up his nose and agreed. Sharing a room with Gordie and Eric had been fine, at first. They spent most of their time out of the room, really only using it for sleep. Grizz missed his bed. He used to keep his favorite books tucked under the pillows so he could read before he fell asleep. Now, he has to roll out his back every morning from sleeping on the floor with no space to stretch out. His books remained on the living room shelves where he could pull them out at the end of the day and read them to anyone who would listen. And by anyone, he meant Sam. Sam was always there, cuddled under a blanket, listening to whichever play or novel he chose for the night. Occasionally Bean would join. Allie pretended to hate it, but she came every night with a mug of tea for everyone.

It became a really wholesome nighttime ritual. He thought about a few nights previously, when he was reading August Strindberg’s Miss Julie. At first, the girls protested the blatant misogyny. Then Grizz started reading the scene when Jean is whispering his secret desire to Julie. Everyone quieted down as he said those lines, leaning in and growing hot. Grizz got lost in it. He knew how to deliver like Jean’s words were the only thing keeping him breathing. When he was done with the scene and Jean successfully brings Julie into his bed, he paused and looked around. Allie was looking down at her socked feet, blushing. Gordie had his eyebrow raised at him while Bean smushed her lips together. And Sam looked him right in the eye, lips slightly parted, waiting for him to go on.

“You’re right. There are definitely moments when I wish I had my own room,” Grizz told him. They looked at each other before Sam huffed in agreement. It drove Grizz a little crazy when he did that. Like he could read his thoughts somehow. They spent the rest of the walk chit chatting about the weather growing colder and how hard the various job postings were. When they arrived at the hospital, Grizz was shocked to find the doors unlocked.

“What, did you think they would have maximum security to keep sick people out?” Sam poked fun at him.

“No, no. But there’s, like, super expensive equipment in here. And drugs and stuff,” he said this earnestly, which only made Sam laugh harder. They went inside. Grizz went straight to the counter and started sifting through lists. He skimmed every page, trying to find what he was looking for. Sam stood nearby, clueless to the boy’s quest. After a couple minutes, he became utterly bored.

“What is the point of this adventure, Grizz?” Sam asked. Grizz loved when Sam said his name. It took him a moment to refocus on the task at hand.

“I am trying to figure out where they keep the CPR dummies,” he answered.

“You could have told me that. Let me help you look,” Sam came behind the counter. The two of them barely fit. As they looked, their hands would stumble over each other. Sam let their arms press together, after a while. Grizz didn’t pull away. Together, they found a hospital map and guessed, “training bay” was their best bet. The hospital was a little creepy. It still smelled like a sterile and sickly place without any humanity to soften the edges. They flicked on lights as they walked down the mint green halls. Their florescent glow made the boys skin look grey and unhealthy. Their boots stuck to the ground enough to create a sticky suction noise with every step. Neither of them said anything until they got to the training bay.

They looked in horror at the room full of humanoid dummies. At least ten were scattered about the room, hooked up to IVs or resting next to scalpels. Before Grizz could take another step, Sam grabbed his arm and asked, “Is it just me, or are we about to get murdered by evil doctor right now?”

“I’m definitely getting that vibe,” Grizz said, “I’m afraid I’ll get possessed if I touch one of these things.”

His gaze trailed over every body and asked, “What’s the sign for ‘heebie jeebies.’”

Their chuckles broke the tension.

“Why do you need one?” Sam asked. Grizz knit his eyebrows together and rubbed the back of his neck before he answered.

“I’m trying to learn CPR.”

“Really? I’m surprised you don’t know how to do it. I thought you were some type of boy scout,” Sam signed as he spoke. Grizz didn’t smile at his joke.

“I don’t know how to do it. I know I present as this big survivalist guy but I really don’t know everything. I know a lot, but not everything. It was people assuming that from me that got Emily killed. I didn’t know how to do CPR or get venom out of a snake bite or anything else that would have fucking helped. If I did, she would have been fine,” he had tears in his eyes by the time he was done talking. Sam didn’t know what to say. He never realized how much pressure Grizz was putting on himself to keep their society safe. He could feel the guilt radiating off of him like a poison. He reached and grabbed his upper arms and tilted his head to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, what happened to Emily was not your fault. You can’t carry that around with you, it’s not your burden.”

Grizz wiped his eyes and signed, “I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be better prepared for next time.”

Sam nodded and pulled Grizz into a hug. For a few seconds, they stood in each other’s embrace. Sam’s head laid on his chest. He could hear his breath ease as his need to cry passed. Even though Grizz was a few inches taller than him, he felt like his was holding something very small and fragile. He took a deep breath and released him.

“You know, I could teach you CPR, I got recertified every year so I could charge more when I babysit,” Sam said, breaking the tender moment.

“Yeah right. If I tried those chest compressions on you, I’d break your sternum,” he took a couple steps back from Sam.

“So you think you’re strong enough to break me?”

“I think we both are,” Grizz said as he walked backward toward the dummies. Sam didn’t know what to say. Grizz turned away from him and paroozed his options. He picked up the one sitting lopsided on a chair, “I think this is our guy.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah he looks like a good victim to save.”

Grizz heaved the dummy onto his shoulder and fireman carried him out of the room.

“Let’s get the fuck out of this creepy hospital,” he said.

The boys left and started walking back home. They got halfway there before Allie pulled up next to them. She rolled down the window.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Sam and Grizz exchanged looks before Grizz said, “We are just out here trying to make some new friends, you know?”

“Just get in, I’ll give you a ride home,” she said. Grizz heard the car doors unlock and he piled in the backseat after Sam, tossing the dummy into the truck.

The dummy was christened Ralph and embraced by their household.

#thesociety grizz sam unresolvedtension CPR softgayboys guiltygrizz ijustwantedtoseetheirromanceblossom concernedsam boyfriends

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olaluwe · 6 years ago

Photo

Whetting your appetite!

If you're here, I want to believe you find the post's title kind of engaging.

It’s probable too that you're indeed hoping one day to be a writer like the title rhetorically posed.

Whichever way, I can assure you that you're in the right place and at the right time too.

To make myself clear, I want to state categorically that I design this tutorial primarily for the next generation of writers in mind.

And the reason is simple; I see myself yet as a trying writer and could be mentoring everybody else but the big-uns.

I couldn't be even dreaming.

You know what; there are far too many iconic writers out there to whose faces I couldn't lift the lantern of my writing adventurism.

And I’m not being modest here at all, far from it.

As aspiring writer, I want you to congratulate yourself first of all for stopping by.

The thing is you need to focus on what matters and leaving out what doesn't.

And what matters, to start with?

Soldiers can brag they're courageous types because they lay down their lives in the defence of territorial integrity and for continuous existence of their countries and the likes.

That kind of make a lot of sense; you'd agree.

Let’s face it, troops are not the only one who died or get killed in the line of service; writers do too.

But then it's all by choice granted conscription is not on the card,

We all choose what to become in life and the cart is simply brimming with endless choices.

Let assume you're familiar with what being a soldier entails- the rigorous training, the clean and crispy uniforms, the shining jackboot, the colourful parades, the wars and the likes.

Fantastic, what a panoply of noble stuff!

You know what, I've been close to these guys and in my candid opinion they are a bunch of idlers who arrogate too much to themselves.

And I’m honestly not hating on them.

But they think they have a calling that's by far superior to others.

And to this unnecessary professional aggrandizement, I always disagree.

And the few who’ve actually met me in person can testify how robust my arguments were on this topic.

Most time all they could mutter in defence was if I think it’s that easy to be a soldier why I didn’t try it. My answer as always is I don’t need to try anything to be sure it’s tough or not.

Career, I repeat, is mostly a function of choice.

Besides I’ve tried enlisting with near success.

“But nearly like you know don’t ever kill a bird.” Hope that fits the narratives and isn’t too diversionary?

Needlessly, they sometimes resort to taking out their frustrations on the harmless civil folks out there. Faced with desperate lack of preferred options, I've encountered many too who are simply in there for the glam and the pay.

They pray all day for peace to reign supported by well-meaning people from the polity and religious institutions.

Ring the bell of war, and they run into hiding.

And traditionally they cover four major domains namely-land, air, water and space.

But we writers are nobler breeds of professionals with kinder souls too. And we're no less courageous to any. History can testify to that.

While the weapons of their warfare are guns and grenades; battle tanks and gun boats and frigates; the weapons of our warfare is nothing but the innocuous pen and paper or sometime the computer.

And our battle cry is simply 'everybody deserves to know'.

Isn't that more sublime to taste?

Yes it is!

According to Novelist Stephen King, if you ever write anything of note, of value then is prepared for hate e-mails. And that is because writing polarizes.

From history and experience too deaths threatening calls are not out of the picture.

In the time past and now, writers have faced and are still facing criminal censorship in various countries of the world.

For instance, the death of Mr Dele Giwa, a co-founder of Newswatch magazine in Lagos who was killed via a parcel bomb in 1985 comes to mind.

Not forgetting also Mr Dimgba Igwe and Mr Mike Awoyinfa both of Concord Newspaper Lagos who were killed covering the Liberian civil war.

Nor of Maltese anti corruption journalist, Mrs Daphone Curiana who was murdered 2017.

Finally mention also must be made of the substantive fatwa placed on British-India writer, Salmon Rushdie, by Islamic extremists after publishing his book: ‘Satanic Verses’.

He’s currently on exile in the UK. In functions, we're on a mission says Jon morrow of smart blogger to change the world for the better.

And getting paid for this wouldn't be a bad idea altogether.

The pay, however, might not be enough to buy us luxury homes, cars and other existential comforts like we would've loved but we most time take solace in the fact that we love what we do.

In case you don't know, ours is the fifth domain of warfare which is 'information' with equal companions like education and entertainment.

Even military institutions world over know the importance of this long ago and have resorted to adding it to their operational cart too.

But I doubt they understand it the way writers do.

Isn't propaganda all they do and calling it war information?

I might be wrong in few instances.

It is not uncommon to hear outright lies from battle fronts; a case of information censorship here and there.

But our own concern is the 'defence of the truth' at all time. In addition, we make this civilization tick from ages to ages.

We keep track of knowhow, events and teach it to all.

And what doesn't matter, to end it all? I say nothing and I repeat nothing!

To the writers who know his onions, everything matters because the people deserve to know it all.

And as a writer it is your primary duty to ensure this. No more no less.

As a take home, folks, the writer’s job are definitely not an easy one but I can assure you its quite fulfilling if you fall in love with it enough.

And that I hope you'd do from today on.

Mastering the language of your medium

Either in its written or spoken form, language is a system of arbitrary vocal symbols with which a social group cooperate through sharing a schemata of ideas and impressions from ages to ages.

So it is the first media of communication to be mastered,

I couldn't just place my fingers to it, but I know a bewildering number of languages are spoken the world over.

From Mandarin which is the most spoken language in the world, to say Izon language of a minority Riverine tribe in the Niger delta creek of southern Nigeria.

As an aspiring writer then I know you're either a native speaker of one or more/ or a received speaker of one or more as well.

By extension too, you must have been groomed by the educational system of your country to a varied level of sophistication.

Be that as it may, I presumed you're sufficiently mastered it as a user of one or more assemblage of these global community of languages.

But to gain worldwide audience, a writer must necessary writes in any of the major languages like Mandarin, English, French, Portuguese, Spanish etcetera etcetera and hoping your works get translated into more as the cultural and educational values it carries become common knowledge to influential personalities, academic institutions and governments from around the world.

It's on record for instance that, Nigeria's Chinua Achebe's monster hit novel 'Things Fall Apart' has been translated into many international languages which definitely accounted for its global success.

Of course that's the dream of an average writer. But only a few will get there. It's not a curse.

All it takes is, however, hard work and some elements of luck.

To do this, books play very important role.

I'm a received speaker of the English language, and I've been exposed to quite a number of them all my life.

Now, do I've recommended textbook on English language in mind?Frankly speaking I don’t.

As a matter of fact, quite a number of writers (speaking specifically about writing for the web) have written at length on this same topic with express biases or preferences for some books.

'Elements of Style' is a name in this respect as given by writers in charge's Bamidele Onibalusi.

As far as I'm concern, there are tons and tons of textbooks on English Language in bookstores both online and offline waiting to be picked up for the right prices.

Go get yourself one, and you're well on your way to success as a writer.

Choosing a mentor

Why mentors?

Agreed, God's the only source of inexhaustible inspiration.

So connect to him or her today.

But Mentors are prime example of people we all wish to be like some day.

Mentor provides us with inspirational and practical pathway by their own success stories through direct and indirect frameworks of reference or benchmark in the otherwise crowded and confusing world of aspirations and dreams.

And they exist either in close or distance proximity.

They're both living and dead. Whichever way, there's always one or more for everyone.

And in this industry, they come aplenty.

If I start to name names now, I'm not sure we wouldn’t leave here in a lifetime.

At this juncture, I think it rests solely on you to know who does it best for you granted you must have met a sizable number in your academic journey.

It is possible too perhaps while you're reading for the fun of it.

Think back now and you'd be amazed about who strikes you the most for the mentoring roles.

For me before I let you go, it is Wole Soyinka, Nigeria literary juggernaut.

Believe me; it has nothing to do with sentimental stuff like lineage or some racial or nationalist suasion.

I love him for he represents the ambassadorial best Africa nay Nigeria can get to advance the cause of its cultural heritage consistently under attack by the imperialist west.

For his voice is unique, and his identity super peculiar.

And to whom I dedicated a poem titled: 'Doyen of Letters'

He's, finally, as it happens a winner of Nobel Prize for literature in 1986.

Creating engaging content.

Writing essentially is all about content creation textually speaking.

But it doesn't stop there.

The content must be engaging, riveting so to say driving us ultimately towards studied steps based on the writer's position supported by facts and not myths.

The question remains how then do writers go about creating content that's engaging?

To be factual, engaging content starts with creating engaging title or headline if you like.

Engaging headline we're told in journalism school is like a beautiful gateway into a palatial building.

On the other hand, a headline that's not as engaging is an immediate put off any day.

No matter how well decorated is a house's interior nobody will take a chance to look in if it has a twisted gate.

So, the more attractive the headline is the more the likelihood of readers clicking through in other to interact with the content proper which must be equally engaging.

Or else the visitation might not be a memorable one for the visitor. And you may not have a second chance. Now don't worry unnecessarily about that.

Writers like other professionals do have their bad days in the office.

And it doesn't always call for needless self flagellation. That's why not all novels, dramas, poetry even by the same author achieve the same level of success.

Not all articles as well by the same writer would go viral online; though he may wish it so.

Be motivated, however, as a writer to do your best under the constraints changing time and season throw at you.

But for any content to come close to being engaging, which has at its heart the core of communication’s tripod of information, education and entertainment; it must equally meet all these five principles of composition namely:

#1) PURPOSE: For every composition to be engaging it must get good response from the reader.

It must be purpose driven.

To be moderately successful then as a writer you must adapt your words to your readers.

Granted that people have attitudes and beliefs which they drawn from experiences both of the past and the present.

It is only proper for a writer who wishes to explain a new idea to connect it with what’s already known.

And if he’s to convince at all, he must start from known or agreeable beliefs.

#2) CONCRETENESS:

Concreteness in write-up is brought about when the writer says to the reader: ‘Here is an example,’ or ‘let me illustrate with an anecdote’.

Believe me, what is concrete or specific in all situations holds attention as much as it frees us from needless dialectical tussle.

#3) EMPHASES:

Another word for emphasis is repetition.

If a writer repeats a word or an idea he calls attention to it.

And isn’t just for the fun of it because it has long ago been an accepted standard that for learning to take place emphasis is key.

Doing so automatically leads to meaningful engagement and action from the reader.

#4) UNITY:

The writer who wishes to convince or explain old or new ideas must hold the rein properly lest he wanders aimlessly away from the focus of his assignment.

The piece he’s to post must be seen to function like a unit despite having so many parts in terms of thought-groups.

#5) COHERENCE;

Writers ordinarily are advocates.

They argue for or against a proposition.

They argue also for the relative merit of a choice over another based on the hard fact of life that the human person is always confronted by problem of choice.

For this, the ability to think straight and to dependable solution is required which coherence is all about.

Creating a style.

Why style?

Style gives identity to the one acting in a professional environment.

It makes identification an easy task. Any professional who's got style is automatically branded.

What then is style?

Style can be defined as a consistent flair discernible in the human operation or execution of a task.

It could also be define as uniqueness of approach to things by a particular person.

Style for writers emerges from the rubble of conscious experimental writing activities.

While it is not always easy to come up with, trying on the other hand to imitate other iconic writers is equally counterproductive.

So it is highly recommended that you write the way most suitable to you; and overtime a style might just emerged from such background.

Finally, equally important in style creation are your level of education and how widely read you’re.

Editing your composition.

For many reasons, believe me, there's no such writer anywhere whose work cannot be edited.

Why editing?

Editing is the last of all writing tools.

Defined, it is the refinery of all writing activity.

It helps filter the unwanted from the wanted.

After the creation of your content, to make it more epic by bringing all its inherent values into sharp focus it must be edited.

Why then do we edit?

We edit for the following reasons:

#1 For grammatical correctness:

Language as an arbitrary vocal symbol through which a social group cooperate follows a set of rules called grammar that writers must necessarily obey or else it thought trains breaks down.

So editors try as much as possible to see if a given content conform in entirety with these rules.

So where the rules are violated corrections are made.

#2 For space:

Where the constraints are the space like in the field of print journalism editing becomes very important.

The task of the editor therefore is to make sure contents are trimmed to size in other to fit into allotted space or spaces.

#3 For fonts and style:

Writing is all about fonts and style:

Editors try also to see which font is best for the chosen medium and their stylistic arrangement.

For instance, the font that will be applied to newsprint will be different to the one that will be applied to a billboard which is something passersby see from the distance.

#4 For narrative unity:

Content is also edited to be sure story ideas follow consistent pattern.

Every part of a story must be seen to help advance the course of the story itself.

No part must be contradictory. Every part must function as one unit.

#5 To eliminate excess words:

Like student of landscape painting who begins by covering too much ground; often too, writers do commit the sin of verbosity.

That's using too many words to convey an experience when ordinarily fewer words would do.

So, these flabby or wordy excess in content is sometimes the focus of editing.

And as he or she puts the editing jigsaw to it, content becomes trimmer and sharper in mind of reader.

Publishing your content.

Now we have come to the last but very crucial stage in the life of a writer.

Publishing is the Icing on the cake of content creation.

Publishing involves making your work available to the public who pays to get it.

And there are basically two ways to go. It either you publish your works in paperback or as e-books.

It has been said that's no matter how epic your content is until promoted it is useless.

Or not worth more than the paper on which it is printed.

But publishing your work online and promoting it through the right channels is essential if it is to reach greater audience and have the right impact.

I've read severally writers calling it the queen of content creation.

But publishing has never been easier or liberalized than now.

These days we now have both free and paid platform to advance the course of your career as a writer.

While some resource people insist that to have a good start to writing career online, platform A, B, C must be the choice forgetting the fact that money plays important role in career pursuit especially writing online.

Starting from any of free platform may after all not be a bad idea.

At least it helps to sharpen your writing claw preparatory for the big moments.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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clearperception-blog1 · 7 years ago

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The Possible Future Of WordPress In Mumbai India

THE FUTURE OF WORDPRESS

The future of WordPress is brilliant like a thousand sunlight for lack of a better simile. As soon as an ordinary blog composing system, WordPress is properly morphing into an application structure that's provoking specialists and beginners around the internet. A while back, we set out just how WordPress became and exactly how it grew into a content monitoring system (CMS) that powers over 75 million net websites, including heavyweight brands such as CNN, Jay-Z as a result much more. At the time of composing, WordPress is fairly the durable platform what with the arrival of brand-new modern technologies that, allow's face it, appear to come from Science fictions. If you're questioning, we drop a few terms that might fry your minds, yet please don't run away. Rather, remain because specifically just what we have in fact aligned today suggests all sort of excellent things for your WordPress-based service. If you surf, you are bound to uncover warmed discussions worrying monsters such as WordPress Relax API, WP-CLI, Calypso and backwards compatibility to name a few. The Future of WordPress Beyond 2017 Well, these are the example that make great sense just to programmers. Hell, topics like WordPress REMAINDER API astonish the crap out of many developers also, so we will definitely save you that kind of torture. Simply what we share today is simply how mentioned contemporary technologies could help you complete a whole lot more with WordPress. This residential or commercial property opens up evictions to a future of WordPress never ever seen prior to. Currently, please take my hand and allow us call upon Ahn Wee, the hipster Chinese clairvoyant that lives inside every clairvoyance. Jokes apart, let's get this over and also made with. Improvements to the WordPress Admin UI Not as long earlier, the WordPress admin was an eye sore. This we understand firsthand since we hopped on the damn time tool along with exposed simply how the WordPress admin UI has actually advanced. As well as while the user interface (UI) has nothing on a device such as Ghost, it's much boosted. Yet simply exactly what does the future of WordPress have in purchase us in relation to the admin UI? You presumed right if you anticipate the WordPress admin to transform for the better. If Calypso isn't really evidence sufficient, I typically aren't certain just exactly what is. My Jamaican friends would certainly resemble, "The hell is Calypso man?" If you have actually not mosted likely to WordPress.com in a while, you're losing out on the all new Calypso interface. Do not have a WordPress.com blog website? Well, Calypso gave WordPress.com blogs an extreme makeover in regards to admin UI.

future of wordpress calypso It's beautiful and also super-fast to mention the least (back at your Ghost), as well as you could easily as well as openly make use of Calypso to handle your self-hosted blog sites from one main area. The only requirement is you must activate Jetpack along with the WordPress.com home computer app. However, you could manage your self-hosted websites from your WordPress.com account. With Matt angling for a lot more very easy to make use of experience, Calypso is most likely to cross over to self-hosted WordPress in the future. This, or the WordPress layout team will think about a better UI, yet why transform the wheel when you currently have American Competing? Just the same, anticipate an improved WordPress admin that's cooler along with faster as compared to precisely just what we contend the min. This can just suggest amazing points for your WordPress service merely given that rate excels. There is likewise a distinctive possibility of seeing customized control panels many thanks to the REMAINDER API.

WordPress as an Application Structure

WordPress Rest API I believe rather very that JavaScript as well as API-driven interface are the future of not simply WordPress however the web.-- Matt Mullenweg This, Matt asserted at State of words back in 2015. Today it is quite a reality, with the REMAINDER API being combined right into WordPress core. Precisely just what is it with these tough words hombre? What's REMAINDER API? And just how, pray notify, is it crucial? Well, in its a great deal of fundamental type the REST API is simply code that permits you to send out as well as obtain data from WordPress regardless of the application you have. This recommends you might make use of WordPress as a framework to take care of material for any type of web application around. Greet to all type of excellent chances for the WordPress designer of the future. You might establish mobile applications on WordPress just as promptly as you build internet site. You might have indigenous apple iphone or Android applications operating on WordPress because-- REST API. If you had no concept, that Calypso animal we merely explained is simply a tailor-made user interface that communicates with WordPress by means of-- await it-- the REST API! Cross-Platform Compatibility WordPress & Javascript This furthermore suggests you can develop extremely customized WordPress motifs therefore much more. In other words, the REST API brings a lot of possibilities to the table, which implies the future of WordPress came to be also brighter. Photo structure apps in whichever programs language and also using the effective WordPress backend to have every little thing. It does appear terrific, ideal?

The Near Future Of WordPress In Mumbai India

The only disadvantage is, as a WordPress designer, you ought to up your JavaScript abilities to make the most of REST API. Yes, WordPress will certainly still run on PHP in the future, but much of front-end advancement will depend upon JavaScript. People, WordPress is no more just a CMS, it is presently a full application structure that can do essentially every little thing. Matt, in a Reddit AMA, asserted: I believe it (WordPress) is an excellent structure for anything content-driven. For factors like messaging that don't map well to WP's details version, you could still do it simply make some brand-new tables, do not aim to insert it in the conventional ones. At the end of the day, the REST API is an exceptional enhancement to the WordPress core that means you're not going anywhere quickly. Taking place swiftly ... A Bigger Item of the Client Base Pie

Viral WordPress Websites WordPress powers a massive amount of websites. It's one of one of the most prominent application framework (yes, this seems better than CMS) from right here to Mars and past. Many numerous other options will require years of development just to catch up. As well as with all these new updates going down consistently, you could expect a raising variety of individuals to get on the WordPress bandwagon. Of course, the future of WordPress indicates an extra beginner-friendly system that charms everyone throughout the board. The outcome? Bonus newbies sign up with. Beginners will not separate hair aboard in addition to designers throughout the web will not assume WordPress is just a blog writing system. Many thanks to the REMAINDER API, all designers will identify the unchecked power of WordPress is at their beck and also call whenever. The result? Programmers from all walks of life join. Opinion by them experts has it WordPress perseverance over 35% of the internet by the year 2020. That's a substantial number thinking about WordPress currently runs 1 from 5 sites in 2017. Do you need us to inform you just what a private base of this percent implies for your WordPress-related solution? If you need us to hold your hands in concerns to this, it implies a great deal of organisation possibilities, a bigger in addition to much better area therefore far more. The area is just one of WordPress' strengths, and also the owning stress behind a great deal of (if not all) WordPress things. The huge market measurement and the growth neighborhood around WordPress are two factors it is fantastic to base your service around WordPress.-- Muhammad Haris Front-End Material Layout

The Extended Of WordPress In Mumbai India

Aesthetic Author Frontend Editor With the development and also appeal of WordPress page house building contractors such as Beaver Building Service Provider, Visual Author as well as these site structure devices (by means of Website Building Specialist Insider), it is evident there's a faction of WordPress clients that delight in front-end web content design. The fad has moved to WordPress themes with one of the most efficient delivery with full-on page structure professionals. Now, you need not recognize a line of code to work up eye-catching formats like a company. Just what does this state concerning the future of WordPress? We can prepare for to see much more front-end house builders get in the industry. These could be standalone plugins or building service providers that are integrated stylishly. That apart, it's testing to create web pages inside the indigenous WordPress editor. This doesn't alter whether you utilize the visual editor or toggle to the text editor, with the last demanding some coding capabilities. With specifically how points look along with to keep most newbies sane, WordPress could ship with an in-built websites structure specialist in the future. Well, it would not damage a bone to create impressive web pages right from within WordPress. As well as even more designers change the REST API and also become aware of all the amazing points JavaScript suggests for the front-end, much of design job will absolutely relocate from the backend. This suggests you will certainly not spend hours in addition to hrs educating clients the best ways to change a typeface listed below and some color there. It's all excellent as long as we abide by the best criteria and also make code bloat a distant memory. Drag as well as go down material production isn't truly a pattern, it is below to stay. Concentrate On Mobile Responsiveness & Efficiency WordPress Mobile Ready When asked about the most significant difficulty facing WordPress, Matt mentioned making WordPress far more mobile pleasurable is of utmost relevance. His precise words were: I think mobile is very challenging since it's primarily on closed systems. Responsive along with mobile-first site style was uncommon a number of years earlier. In a globe where most of people browse on mobile devices, you could not spend for to run an inflexible website. Yet, there are organisations with web sites that are as stiff as tight gets. WordPress designers create receptive things nowadays along with the outcomes are impressive. Accessing the WordPress admin from a cellular phone is not specifically smooth. There's so little you could do on a smart phone. A great deal more job is required in this area, and the even more receptive WordPress happens (particularly in the areas that really issue), the higher the fostering rate among mobile clients. We could expect WordPress to end up being additional responsive in the future.

Effectiveness

WordPress Rate On concerns effectiveness, the WordPress group has an eager focus on security, usability and rate. Or as Matt puts it: Primarily among the most essential points for a system are stability, price, along with safety. To do those well you require the ability to press updates and also options as close to real-time as possible. And it ought to operate in every language. Private confirmation, info as well as caching abstraction. He has some referrals for aiming concept as well as plugin designers likewise:

The Foreseeable Future Of WordPress In Mumbai India

Format as well as use are extra important than ever. See a chum or family member effort to use your plugin throughout, as well as it'll provide you a lots of recommendations on exactly how you can make it far better. Much better, WordPress utilizes plugin-driven advancement in the sensation that brand-new features are trialed as plugins initially to accumulate feedback from consumers. This gives lots of room for performance upgrades that suggest just great things for the future of WordPress. When all is stated along with done, WordPress major focus is to earn the system valuable to the standard Joe, while supplying power people the gadgets they need to bend the structure however they choose. It's tough, so please make your payment presently. WordPress Will Aid Additional Languages WordPress Translations WordPress polyglots aim to relate the platform right into as several languages as feasible in addition to this earnings in the future. A great deal more designs and plugins become translation-ready in the future of WordPress that Ahn Wee sees. If you want to make use of WordPress in your very own language, this can be your possibility to create the WordPress you will be honored to reveal your children. We have actually covered WordPress translation in the very best methods to contribute to WordPress, so do not maintain back. A great deal more Convenience of accessibility. WP Schedule. We could not omit our sensory damaged bros as well as brother or sisters since they consist of the future of WordPress also. Numerous thanks to API-driven interfaces, programmers have extra flexibility to create a WordPress that helps customers "... with sensory impairments, with the selection to turn particular ease of access features on as well as off taking advantage of JavaScript"-- wpmudev. WordPress has actually released it's own Accessibility Manual however there are numerous various other open source sources for programmers on the web (like the entirely complimentary WP Access plugin). With these devices designers could hone their things to guarantee their themes and plugins work by every person. An outstanding instance if the Total WordPress motif, which incorporates new gain access to attributes with each upgrade (amongst the main factors that the University of Hawaii chooses to utilize Total).

Troika Tech Services Web Design Development Company Mumbai

#wordpress #seo #webdesigning #webdevelopment #ecommerce #marketing #webdesigners #webdevelopers #seoexpert

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