#I imagine that they come to visit him during his office hours regularly anyways so this happens pretty naturally.

[myimaginationplain]

imagine: professor utonium mentoring dexter vs professor membrane mentoring mandark

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] (American) College!AU Demon Brothers

Scenario: Headcanons on the demon brothers as college students (specifically in the US because I don’t know how college works elsewhere), their possible majors, career goals, extracurriculars, ~GPA~ and whatever else I could think of + how meet you in college

Note: I’m hoping to do a Part 2 with the Undateables but honestly… we’ll see lol. This is based off something ~A~ and I thought of for our specific university but we’ve made it broad enough to share HAHA this turned out VERY long

- 

Lucifer

Majoring in Political Sciences with a minor in Psychology

Pre-Law-- most likely immigration law or child custody (there’s definitely a backstory here)

Initially went to community college for the first two years to save up money to take care of his younger siblings

Rejected an offer to go to an Ivy League because it was too expensive; if his siblings ever found out they’d be furious that he’d give up on that chance, but he knows he can succeed wherever he goes (and besides, family is first) 

Transferred into a 4-year university his junior year 

Very high GPA-- VERY

In a professional fraternity with Diavolo and Barbatos 

He didn’t think he’d join one either but Diavolo was the vice chair when he transferred in and the president the year after so… ~nepotism?~ and also Lucifer is charming as heck so no surprise he’d get in

Also rooms with Diavolo and Barbatos

Goes to the gym regularly just to keep fit; gets goaded by Diavolo and Satan into joining an IM team with his frat brothers and actual brothers-- probably basketball or flag football

Probably meets you at a interclub council meeting and mutters under his breath how useless the board members are and you overhear 

“Never have I met more incompetent people.”

“Lmao mood”

“!!!”

Keeps sitting next to you at every interclub meeting then after because at least there’s someone that can keep his mind stimulated (thinks you’re hot if you’re competent btw)

If you somehow meet him on campus, he’s the type of guy to put his hand up and pretend he didn’t see you (just kidding, he always ends up saying hi anyways) 

Will Absolutely Lecture You if you are procrastinating on studying especially if your midterm is, like, TOMORROW

Always ends up studying with him because he’s actually focused on studying and glares at you if you get distracted (but hey you get good scores in the end)

Mammon

Majoring in Business Econ/Economics, Minoring in Statistics

(always ends up in the middle of the “is econ a humanities or a STEM major” debate that leaves him left for dead) 

Planning to work in Business as Finance -- probably has been treasurer or finance director for a club; can even see him being a banker if it suits his plans better

Goes to a four-year university

Decent GPA (or Lucifer would absolutely destroy him), and does REALLY well in mathematics classes

Would room with Lucifer and his posse if they all go to the same school 

Probably in a Business Frat as well because he’s pretty charismatic when it comes down to it but  was an RA for some of his years for the free rooming and dining hall privileges 

Is a very chill and understanding RA (as in he smokes weed with you when he’s off-duty) but is surprisingly well-versed in dealing with roommate issues

Works part-time (gasp) to buy stuff off of Amazon and go out to places 

Spends a lot of time exploring places with his friends, going hiking, rock-climbing, clubbing-- which is expensive, as it turns out, so he needed to be able to afford it somehow

Meets you when you’re eating your lunch outside somewhere and he asks you if you have a dollar he could borrow for a vending machine snack

You exchange numbers with him so he can pay it back (even though you honestly don’t really need it, but why not) and turns out he’s in your GE class

“Heyyy wassup! So glad I have a friend in this class” 

“Oh by the way, did you finish the homework? Haha, I forgot it.” 

Mammon always repays you for your help in food though so you aren’t complaining

Leviathan

Majoring in Computer Sciences

And honestly that’s too much for me already-- the man is doing computer programming, coding-- WHEW-- and they do NOT rest

Goes to a community college but honestly has no problems cinching internships. The computer is his domain-- online applications are EASY, doing projects NOT as easy, interviews? HARD-- REALLY HARD (someone help him)

Probably intends to work with a big company like Google if only to help supply his income so he can live his life going to AX and buying merch 

Most likely moved out of his house mid-college with his online friends (who are luckily compatible with him living-space wise) and visits home once a week 

There’s two potential sides you can meet first: 

Either you meet him at a convention and you both gush about the same character and anime and somehow find each other online (not college related) 

Or his favorite Ruri-chan keychain gets broken off in the computer lab, and you’re the one running after him to give it him

He may or may not owe you his life after that (and if you enjoy anime, well that’s a bonus)

Both of these meetings can happen if he doesn’t recognize you in class because you were in cosplay-- imagine the surprise

The two of you as friends are MASTER PROCRASTINATORS at every assignment the two of you have-- so low-key not a great influence-- but you have fun together watching animes, playing games, talking about life-- anything but actual work 

Always ends up scrambling to finish things-- but he keeps doing it because it’s been working for him so far

You help him prepare for interviews because he’s always nervous before each one regardless of how well his application looks

Satan

Majoring in Comparative Literature AND Anthropology (ya boy is doing the whole nine yards)

Planning to get his Master’s and then a PhD in one of his majors (whichever proves to be more engaging for him)-- visibly excited to become a Professor

College was meant for Satan-- like REALLY; the man is in LOVE with learning; most likely to go and be accepted to an Ivy-League after Lucifer but... truly believes you can get a good education anywhere so it depends on his financial standing (and how much scholarship he gets)

Does get a little disgruntled when his classes aren’t available but doesn’t mind learning something new-- if the professor bores him to death, he’ll read the book

Really good at tutoring people; someone suggests that he works as a peer-learning facilitator/writing tutor and he does-- might as well make bank doing something you always do anyways   

Joins a writing/journal club as an extracurricular and a club that provides tutoring services to the underserved community-- surprisingly good with kids!

He knows friends in high places, so if he wanted to, could get into any party without batting an eye and his favorite professors love him

Spends a lot of his time going out to the city and exploring places, similarly to Mammon, rock-climbing, hiking, paragliding-- anything

He is VERY well-rounded as you can see; competes with Lucifer to see whose GPA is better though

You probably meet him during office hours, and you can only stare in awe as he asks questions that you had in mind, but better; if you’re visibly confused about something, he’ll take his time to help you too (it’s habit at this point)

Ask him for his contact info and you’ll get it, and maybe repay him in coffee? (You always see him at the cafe on campus.) 

Most likely to have a specific spot in a cafe that he is always at that the workers actually save a spot for him or give him his usual order before he even arrives-- may or may not have helped them edit their essays or with their homework as a thank-you so you KNOW they’ll love him forever

The type of person to help you make flashcards and cram if you need it

Asmodeus

Majoring in Dance and Fine Arts (I HC going to NYU specifically)

Considering going for an Master of Fine Arts degree but he might just move to New York and go for being a Broadway Star

College is mainly just training for him and hoping to land gigs in local theater-- and the university theater if there is one-- and building his resume for his big break 

Has SO many extracurriculars, all pertaining to his career choice, but also because he enjoys what he does: drama, competitive dance team, acapella, fashion design

Makes an unbelievable amount of friends, incredibly good at networking

The first time you saw him was when he was performing for a local theater and you were in love with his performance, and the next time you saw him in the hallway of a classroom building, you told him how much you enjoyed it

Always accepts compliments about his looks with grace, but there’s something about truly being admired for his acting and singing that has him preening

Invites you to come out to his next performance, and if not his, then to another play-- and it can be a date, but up to you ;) 

The man is the KING of Multiple Talents and has big dreams to match 

Always finds a way to hang out with you and drag you to every club that he can use his fake-id for (and when he’s actually 21 and above, gets a little offended that he doesn’t get ID’d) 

A night in the town with you is always a good night! 

Sometimes when he has practical exams coming up, he asks you to watch him perform-- and he likes your compliments but actually takes getting all the moves seriously so you better pay attention!

Most likely to move far away to reach his dreams, but he would take you with him if he could-- his little star

Beelzebub

Majoring in Physiological Sciences

Pre-Nursing or Pre-Sports Medicine 

He’s a little undecided, but he’s definitely going to go into the health field because he likes the idea of being able to use his strength to help others

Gets a scholarship from the university because he’s part of the football team, which is actually pretty hard on him because Fall Semester/Quarter he has to keep skipping classes for games  

Always brings a snack to eat with him during lecture-- and is not afraid to bring his entire lunch and make it right in the front row, though he tends to stick to the back because they tend to have electrical plugs 

You most likely meet him during lecture: he offers you an entire sandwich (not a chip bag, not fruit snacks, an entire LUNCH) because he heard your stomach growl during class 

From then on, you collect notes for him when he’s gone from games and even go to games if you aren’t usually the type to just to see how he’s doing; it’s hard trying to find you among the huge bleachers, but he always asks you where you’re sitting anyways 

Really appreciate it if you help him study into late at night because it IS hard balancing sports and academics 

He most likely doesn’t really have any time for anything else so he usually makes up for it during the rest of the year when training is less to volunteer in the hospital or at the gym as a personal trainer 

If you ask him to teach you how to properly lift weights, he’ll definitely help out and the both of you can work out together-- though you feel bad when he has to add four extra weights to each side after you finish your reps

Belphegor

Majoring in Computer Graphics/Animation

Intending to go into making animation or game design-- is one of the brothers who doesn’t really know exactly what he wants to do yet because he’s afraid that doing what he loves as a job will ruin it for him

His family reassures him that they’ll support him whether or not he continues with his path in life, but he’s considering art school and then taking internships in places so he has a better idea on what he wants

Most likely to sell his own original work and become a full-time artist regardless

I think you already know how you meet him-- he’s sleeping in a lecture hall-- either against the wall or on the small piece of wood they call a desk when class ends and he’s still sleeping; and you wake him up 

Sleepily thanks you and continues to sleep through every class that you wake him up to; when you ask him why he doesn’t just go home and sleep, he tells you he’s too lazy to walk back and forth from his dorm/apartment to campus (mood) 

When you add each other on Snapchat or something, he sends you pics of ‘places to nap’ on campus

You always end up studying together because he’s actually pretty good at understanding lecture stuff despite not being awake for most of it-- apparently he’s used to teaching himself 

Will make you art for your birthday and will vehemently refuse payment so he just tells you to take him out for dinner instead 

If you talk about how you’re not sure on what you want to do in life too, he’ll probably say ‘mood’ but is most likely to encourage you to do whatever you want to do in life too 

[vices-aand-virtues]

Today I finished The Year of Less by Cait Flanders and it really resonated with me. One of my goals for 2019 already was to downsize, partially because I was feeling overwhelmed by how much stuff I own; partially because I was running out of space; and partially because I was anticipating moving this summer, and I wanted to haul as little as possible. I purged my closet, my bookshelf, and my DVD collection. Granted, I still have what many would consider A BUNCH of items in these categories, but as Marie Kondo would say, they really do “spark joy.”

I want to clean out other areas of my home, but due to having roommates, this is a challenge since with some things I’m not sure whose is whose. But this summer, they will be moving out, and my boyfriend and I will be living alone together for the first time in 4 years—for the first time since we graduated from college (me with my MA and him with his BS). I’m looking forward to cleaning out the kitchen and our closets.

Another reason I want to binge clean is because we will have two spare rooms in our house, but I don’t want them to become what they have been in the past: junk rooms. Typically these rooms serve a primary purpose (usually our music room), but they also serve as a dumping ground for anything we don’t know what to do with or things we don’t want in public view (ie junk). I want these rooms to be no more than they are: a guest room and a music room/office. We are only two people; we don’t need three rooms full of just stuff.

But until we can get started purging and cleaning our house, there are some steps I can already start taking to work towards my year of less. I’ve been saving money for a few months now because I thought I might owe money on my taxes. Luckily it turns out I didn’t thanks to some very helpful deductions, so I have a very small “influx” of money.

Which leads me to my next reason for doing this.

I’m in debt. By a lot. Getting a bachelor’s and master’s degree did not come cheap. My parents only paid for 2 years of my undergrad degree, and I was on my own for the next 7 years of school (yeah you read that right—my undergrad took 5 years and grad school took 4). As a result, my student loan debt is astronomical. Not only that, but because of my light class load my last year in school, I didn’t qualify for financial aid, and had to use 3 different credit cards to pay the rest of my tuition. So all that gets piled on top of my K2 mountain of debt.

With what I make now at my job, I can make it by. I’ll be able to afford rent, bills, and debt repayments. But that’s about it. And that’s not the kind of life I want to live. I’m not even talking about traveling the world or taking vacations. I just want to hang out with friends or go visit my family. I want to buy gas for something besides work. I want to treat my friends when they need a pick me up or need to celebrate. I want to be able to get my haircut when I need it.

So I decided I could up my weekly savings and see where that would lead me 4 months from now. By doing that alone, I could pay off half of my credit card debt by this fall, and finish the rest of it by next summer. That frees up nearly $500 for me to put towards extra student loan payments. Just by saving more money each week.

After calculating that, I looked at where I’m spending money during work hours. I am a contract music therapist, so I drive all over my area to my clients homes for sessions. Sometimes I knock the sessions out one after the other, but sometimes I have some time to kill inbetween. Since I started my job in June of 2018, I chose to go to a coffee shop (Starbucks or a local brew) to get a drink and work on paperwork or read a book. I looked at my expenses for just the last 2 months, and I had spent $150 on coffee alone. Thats $75 a month I’m spending to have a coffee for an hour or so once or twice a week. Then I added up any time I ate a meal between sessions. Almost $75 more. $150 a month on food and drinks. That’s almost $40 a week. I easily can cut those things out of my routine. Instead of going to a coffee shop, I can find somewhere else to kill time between sessions. If the weather is nice, I can go to a park and walk for a bit. If there’s a bench or a table, I can do my work there. If the weather is bad, I’ll give myself some grace and allow for a coffee. If I lived closer to work, I would definitely just spend my time there.

My next step was to look at any expenses that were truly unnecessary. I use Spotify regularly for work, so that’s not something I could give up. But I do have some months subscriptions to some other services that I really don’t need. By cutting those out, I save almost $50 more.

That means I potentially have nearly $200 extra to put to better use, and I didn’t even look at how much I spend on eating out for dinner or on just shopping. One step at a time y’all!

So if I save $200 a month for 4 months, I’ll have an additional $800 to put toward something. This combined with my regular savings will put me in a good position to reduce my credit card debt more quickly, which in turn will help me pay off my student loans faster.

Once I pay off the credit cards, I’ll have almost $500 a month to put elsewhere. That plus my $200 savings from spending during work hours is nearly $700 extra I can put toward my student loans each month. That’s half of what I will already be paying. And if I keep putting money into my regular savings...that’s even more. I could potentially reduce my payment time by YEARS and finally really start saving money for better things.

Financial freedom is something I never thought I could attain. But Cait’s book made me feel that it WAS possible, I just had to make it a priority. It was odd to realize that with as much anxiety as I had about repaying all my debt, I haven’t really been taking a lot of steps toward lessening my anxiety. But my making it a priority, not in terms of worrying but in terms of taking action, I have already lessened by burden significantly.

Usually when I do challenges like this, I lose motivation. But this is something I feel good about deep in my bones. And not only that, it’s easily doable. I’m not upping my savings significantly. I’m not even banning shopping like Cait did or cutting back on my eating habits (although I imagine this will start to happen organically once I’m really saving and realize how frivolous it is). I’m only cutting out unnecessary spending during work hours. That’s it.

Anyway I don’t think anyone will have read this all the way through, but if anyone has, thank you! I’m gonna try to post sometimes and talk about how it’s going :)

[megwritesfanfiction]

Concrete 3/3 (BNHA/MHA Kacchako)

Disclaimer: I do not own Boku No Hero Academia. I am not making a profit off of this.

A/N: Okay, I think this is done... Maybe? I have no idea... 

Concrete 1 Concrete 2

Read on AO3

It reminded her of floating.

She would know.

Her body felt fuzzy and weightless. The sensation had once made her dizzy and nauseous, but with practice and understanding she’d quickly found herself used to the feeling of it.

Uraraka had a feeling that she’d never get used to this.

Though feeling hadn’t returned to her body, neon dots burst brightly behind her closed eyes and beeping filled her ears. Slow, steady, and accompanied by the soft hum of electricity.

If she had to guess, Uraraka would bet she was in the hospital.

In the handful of times she’d been sent to Recovery Girl’s office, she’d never been hooked up to a monitor. She’d woken up on the way to the med room after she fainted during her match with Bakugo at Sports Festival their first year. Aside from normal bumps, bruises, and broken bones, Uraraka could only think of one other time she’d sustained a serious injury.

She’d taken a knee to the head while sparring and was unconscious for a few hours.

Uraraka couldn’t quite remember what had happened this time, but…

“Any change?”

Who was that?

To her right, the shifting of stiff fabric scratched against her eardrums. “No.” There was a heavy sigh followed by partially muffled words, “They said she’d be awake by now.” Bakugo? How long had she been unconscious? “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m off duty until Sunday morning.” Boots clicked across the floor moving closer to her. “Figured I would check in on you guys since Iida had to go back.”

Okay, so it wasn’t Iida. She would say it was Deku, but it didn’t quite sound like him. Kirishima had mentioned something about being on duty, so she had to assume something had happened. Knowing Deku, he wouldn’t stop working until he couldn’t move.

Whatever incident it was, Uraraka had to believe it was the cause of her injuries.

She was okay.

Even if she couldn’t feel her limbs yet.

She heard Bakugo huff as he moved again, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Just making sure, man.” Kirishima. She should have known.

“Hey man,” she could hear the smirk on his face. “Someone needs to make sure you’re eating-”

The sound of paper crinkling and a whiff of something salty filled her nose. Smelled like teriyaki?

“And that you haven’t been arrested.”

If that statement didn’t wake her up, Uraraka wasn’t sure she’d ever regain consciousness.

The last thing she remembered was Bakugo scowling as she shoved pink and white frosted cookies in her mouth. He’d grumbled something about her “shitty eating habits” when he stole a cookie from her, refusing to admit how good the cookies were.

What exactly had happened to her…? Where did they go after breakfast? And how had her boyfriend nearly ended up in jail?

“Well-“ Why did Bakugo sound so tired? His voice was raspy and weak, not evening trying to but his normal amount of bite in his voice. “I’ve managed to stay out of trouble for the last day and a half.”

What day was it? Kirishima mentioned something about going back on duty Sunday, but she couldn’t remember what day she’d been rendered unconscious.

“I’m just making sure that you don’t punch anyone else out.” Had there been a fight? Had she gone out on patrol with him and gotten injured? Uraraka couldn’t recall being scheduled for a patrol or being teamed with Bakugo. As weird as it was, teachers at UA were aware of their relationship and made sure not to partner them up for patrol or projects.

There may have been one instance when he’d been assigned to be her partner randomly, but teachers had been sure to split them up for patrol practicals.

Kirishima’s voice was light as it faded toward the other side of the room. “You need to eat. Iida told me you didn’t eat last night-“

“I’m not hungry.“

“Kaminari told me you skipped lunch yesterday-“

“Not true. The nurse brought me a coffee and cookie-” A small part of her hoped that she could remember this conversation when she finally awakened. Bakugo had always been critical of making sure that she was eating regularly, especially with her training regimen.

“Mina told me you didn’t eat anything this morning-” It sounded like he was standing in front of Bakugo. “And I am not above telling Uraraka. She’s gonna be pissed.”

He wasn’t wrong. Uraraka was sure if she could move her body she’d sit up and knock some sense into her boyfriend. Warmth was finally beginning to tingle in toes and fingers, but her body felt like lead.

“She has to wake up first.” She’d witnessed her boyfriend fight against impossible odds without batting an eyelash at the odds. Why did he sound so hopeless? His soft sinking tone sent a jolt of fear down her spine as she heard the heart monitor play her nerves.

How bad was she hurt?

“Katsuki-” Kirishima resorting to calling him by his first name without Bakugo’s protest only confirmed the seriousness of this situation. “The doctor said that Uraraka’s surgery went better than they could have asked for. Brain scans are good-”

“She has a brain bleed-”

“Minor, non-surgical-” Personally, Uraraka would never think to associate the term brain bleed and minor, but if the doctor wasn’t concerned she could relax a bit.

“Her hair was soaked with blood and dust when I found her.” A head injury and the sedatives would explain her lack of memory. “I should have gotten her to a medic immediately when I-”

“Stop.” Kirishima’s voice was firm.

Uraraka could feel the pull of stitches against her side and at her scalp as she focused on trying to move.

“I should’ve noticed that she had a concussion.”

“Ka-”

“Like I should have seen that fucking gash in her side.” Had she been stabbed in an ambush?

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Kirishima sighed. “You’re going to have to forgive yourself eventually.”

“When she wakes up,” Bakugo insisted, stubbornly.

The sound of plastic and styrofoam rattling sounded louder in her ears.

“If you don’t eat something, you’re going to be in a bed next to her.” Kirishima’s hand came down lightly on something solid. She imagined there was a little table in her hospital room. “Eat the damn noodles and stop thinking about worst case scenarios. The doctor said she’s doing good.”

The black behind her closed eyes become lighter as she felt awareness returning to her body.

“Eat or I tell your mother.”

“You’ll be back on duty when she comes to the hospital.” Uraraka couldn’t ignore the small smirk in his voice.

“Actually,” Kirishima started with a smirk of his own. “She said she’ll be here this evening with dinner, so I can join you all.”

“Tch.” It was nice to hear the tension ease out of his voice.

Her eyelids painfully peeled apart, the fluorescent light above her head burning her eyes.

“I can’t believe you have my mother’s number.”

Kirishima laughed, pulling a chair of his own next to him, “How are you surprised?”

Uraraka would’ve laughed if her throat hadn’t felt like it was full of sandpaper and cactus needles. With a little inhale and eyes barely open, she watched as Kirishima unboxed the food and placed a covered bowl in front of Bakugo.

“Fair enough,” Bakugo sighed, leaning back in his hair as he shook his head. The skin around his eyes was dark and drawn tight.

When was the last time he’d slept?

He was dressed what looked to be a wrinkled pair of navy hospital scrubs, hair more unruly than usual.

“Stop pouting,” Kirishima said, holding a pair of chopsticks out in front of the blonde. “Eat your noodles.”

Uraraka licked her lips as the corners of her lips twitched with amusement. She inhaled deeply, opening her mouth. “Yeah-” That small word tearing at her throat. “Eat your noodles,” she rasped breathlessly, words slurred together.

Bakugo gasped, lurching forward as he pushed the small table out of the way. He jumped to her beside carefully cradling her head as he looked into her hazy eyes. “You’re awake?”

“Suppose so,” Uraraka breathed softly as she smiled at him.

His hands trembled as cool relief washed over him, hands gently pushing her hair back. “Shit,” Bakugo panicked. “We need a doctor!” He roared, turning toward the door.

“Ow,” Uraraka winced as her head throbbed.

“Shit,” he muttered, gingerly patting her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…”  

“I’ll go get a doctor,” Kirishima offered as he made his way out of the room.

The doctors swarmed her bedside and pushed him into the hallway. Bakugo had quickly called Uraraka father, then followed up with his own mother.

“Katsuki!”

“She’s awake.” Bakugo peeked back into Uraraka’s hospital room making sure what his eyes and ears had seen were real. Red eyes glanced at Kirishima, confirming his witness was still there.

They’d carefully propped Uraraka up against the fluffy hospital pillows. Her usually bright brown eyes were hazy, but she was awake and responding to whatever questions they asked her.

“Thank goodness,” his mother breathed with relief. “What’d the doctor say?”

“I don’t know yet,” Bakugo look another look into the room. “But, I figure she still has a couple days here.”

“Did you still want me to come by tonight?”

“I guess,” he shrugged, phone clutched against his ear. “Ochako probably won’t mind the visit.”

“Well, if she’s too tired,” Mitsuki started sternly. “I can just bring you kids some food tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“You called her father, right?”

“I talked to him before I called you.” he peeked back into the room again. They were removing the blood pressure from her arm. Her eyes were still open, drowsy but alert.

“Good. Don’t forget to keep me posted.”

“I won’t.”

“You take care of her, Katsuki.”

“I am, mom.”

“You must have been worried if you called your mother,” Kirishima commented, a little smirk on his face as he watched his friend hang up the phone. He bit his tongue, forcing himself not to comment on how normal their conversation was.

Bakugo narrowed his eyes, placing his phone in his pants pocket, “Shut up, shitty hair.”

“Will do,” Kirishima smirked with a satisfied nod as he leaned against the wall across from his friend. “I’m glad Uraraka’s okay too.”

Bakugo nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. He sighed loudly, looking up to the ceiling as he frowned awkwardly, “I owe you.” The words weren’t quite right to express how good of a friend he’d been to him, but Bakugo wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

“No, ” Kirishima patted his shoulder before stretching his back. “That’s what bros do, man.” He understood.

The doctor exited the room, stepping in front of Bakugo with a smile. “She looks great.”

Bakugo felt his body relax on a loud and long exhale.

“We’re still keeping an eye on that head injury, but hopefully on Monday we can have the specialist come and heal her. And,” the doctor flipped through the chart. “If everything goes according to plan, she should be able to go home on Tuesday. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright,” the doctor nodded. “I suggest you get some rest yourself now, hmm?” He suggested as he stepped away.

Bakugo ignored the glare and Kirishima’s chuckling. “Don’t you start.”

“What?” Kirishima raised his hands in surrender, unable to contain his grin. He pushed himself off the wall as he started down the hall. “I can’t agree that you need to get some rest?”

“No,” Bakugo frowned watching him walk away. “Where you going?”

“Figured you crazy kids could use some alone time.” Kirishima gave a small salute as he kept moving. “I’ll let the others know.”

Bakugo had forgotten about telling their friends. Kirishima hadn’t even disappeared down the hall, and he was already standing in the doorway. With slow breaths, Bakugo kept his eyes on her sleepy face as she watched the TV mounted in the corner of the wall.

The footage of the building dominated the screen.

Rubble and concrete slabs filled the screen as a reporter recounted the accident.

No villains.

No bombs.

Just a minor earthquake and an unstable building causing the death toll to approach two hundred.

Bakugo couldn’t help but think that it had could have easily been two hundred and one.

“Did I fall?” Uraraka whispered, eyes glued to the screen.

He took slow steps into the room as he cleared his throat. “No,” he replied softly stepped into the room. “You um,” he stopped at the foot of her bed, gently placing his hands on her blanket covered ankles. “You, I think-”

Uraraka slowly turned to face him, eyes widening a bit with worry.

“You and Deku-” Bakugo still hadn’t decided how much of the blame the green haired boy needed to shoulder. “Were helping to evacuate people inside, and when Deku came out-”

He wondered if she could hear how loudly his heart thudded.

“You weren’t with him. I,” he paused, looking at her. “I found you with a kid. You had blood in your hair-”

Uraraka inhaled sharply, trying to recall what he was saying.

“When I took the kid, you collapsed.” Bakugo’s gaze left her eyes as he stared past her. “You had some metal lodged in your side, and you were bleeding really bad.”

That explained the long row of stitches on her side. “Is,” Uraraka cleared her throat. “The kid okay?”

Bakugo nodded, “Yeah, he’s fine. They found his mom.”

She felt herself relax into the bed a bit, ignoring the burn in her body. “Good,” she sighed with a small smile. Her eyes drifted close as she breathed slowly.

“You know I love you right?”

Uraraka felt her head snap up faster than she should’ve. Her jaw clenched, feeling her head throb. “What?”

“You-” He wanted to blame this on the stress of the last few days. “You know I love you right?”

“Of course.” Why would he doubt that?

His hands tightened a little around her ankles. “I thought you were going to die.”

Uraraka felt her breath catch as she saw tears catch on his eyelashes. “I’m sor-”

“You don’t get to die on me, Ochako.” Bakugo’s head dropped between his shoulders as he panted. “You don’t get to bleed out on me, say ‘I love you’, and die in my arms.”

“I-” She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Even without the morphine flooding her veins, the right words seemed impossible to find.

“The last thing I told you was you could have as many those stupid frosted animal cookies you wanted.” His eyes squeezed tightly trying to will away his tears. This was supposed to be a happy moment, and he couldn’t erase the memory of the life fading from her eyes.

Uraraka chuckled, tears spilling on her cheeks, “Come here.”

Bakugo’s head slowly raised, red eyes tired and grief filled.

“Come here.” Her hands padded against the bed, motioning for him to get in.

“I can’t-”

“It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

True, but- “I don’t wanna hurt you.” The bed was small, and it wouldn’t be comfortable for her to lay on her side.

“Get over here, Katsuki.”

Bakugo smirked carefully crawling into the small bed with her. He pulled her against his chest as her toes tickled against his ankle. Cradling a gentle hand against her scalp, he placed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Of course you love me,” she whispered, digging her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “You said I could have as many of those cookies you hate.” A smile broke through her tears.

“Dork,” he murmured affectionately against her forehead. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

She tilted her head up, meeting his eyes. “I won’t,” Uraraka promised softly.

“You need some rest,” Bakugo whispered pressing their lips together. Pulling away, his hands gently held her face as his thumbs stroked her pale cheeks.

“So do you.” Snuggling against his chest, Uraraka closed her eyes relaxing into him.

A nap sounded nice. “My mom is gonna come see you this evening.” His arms carefully looped around her as he held her.

“You called her?”

“Yeah,” he sighed sleepily, finally able to relax.

“Hm,” she chuckled lightly as she felt herself drifting back to sleep. “You do love me,” she teased.  

“Don’t you forget it.”

[ladytrollfishes]

The Copy Cat Cultist: Hour 3

Installment #3: Sniffer talks to the street kid who tackled Virus. Virus does a deep dive into the previous case files. Download and Firewall contact the last surviving cultist- who has been helmed. 

SNIFFER

While the rest of the team was doing their own thing, Sniffer was standing in front of the door to the kid's hotel room. The trip there was hell, to say the least. At least there was only one person to contend with inside, she thought as she quietly knocked on the door.

There's a pause, then she can hear the kid's voice emanate from the room- "Who's there?" he shouts.

"It's me!" Wait. He won't know who 'me' is. "Sniffer! We spoke earlier?"

There's a pause, and the door nudges open. The kid from before floats up near the ceiling, cautiously peering over the door. Sniffer can hear his suspicion ease, and he lands, and opens the door wider.

"Do you have food?" he asks. "Ah!" That's right, food. She completely forgot about food. At the very least, she can offer up this granola bar she shoved in her inventory at some point. 

"It's not much, sorry." She says, apologetic as she steps inside and holds out the bar to him, shutting the door behind her. "I kind of forgot to grab anything before I left."

"Bring something better next time," he says, but Sniffer can hear him think eagerly about eating the granola and he tears it open accordingly. "Whaddaya want?"

"Excuse you!" She says, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. She's a professional, damn it. "And, well," 

How does one talk to a child about dead quadrants and do it smoothly? Where is Download when you need him? Might as well just get it out and over with. "I need you to tell me more about Munvit."

"Oh," the kid says, and flops onto the pile in the room. Sniffer can see that he's had a bath since he's gotten the room. The police lady doesn't care about him, obviously. She wants to know everything about Munvit, but she hasn't even asked him what his name is.

Oops. Does Sniffer feel bad now? She feels very bad now. This kid doesn't really have too many people who care about him, she imagines. Luckily for her, the kid doesn't exactly know about the trick up her sleeve. "Speaking of-" She knees down to his level, smiling and holding out her hand. "I don't think I ever got your name.

The kid spits in his hand and shakes Sniffer's hand. It's a sign of bonding! He's doing it because he knows adults think it's gross and maybe she'll leave them alone. "I'm Sanzas." He says.

Sniffer makes a face, steeling her nerves before grabbing his hand and shaking it. Ew ew ew. "Nice to meet you, Sanzas. How's your leg, by the way?" She forces herself to smile despite her crawling skin.

It itches more than hurts, unless he touches it. "It's fine," he says, smirking at the forced smile on Sniffer's face.

"If you'd like it wrapped, let me know." Oh, this little shit. You know you walked right into that one. "Stop that." She says, a hint of humor in her voice before she sits on the edge of the pile proper to talk to him. 

 "Tell me about yourself." She gestures to him, deciding that maybe the roundabout way if getting information might be better than direct questioning. Sanzas definitely seems like the type to give you the runaround if he doesn't want to answer the question.

Sanzas scratches his head, unsure of what Sniffer wants to know or what to say. “I’m Sanzas aaand,” he says. “I like farts.”

That one earns a confused laugh from her. What even? Is this what pupas are normally like? 

"I'm glad to hear that!" She manages between giggles. "Tell me more about where you live." She suggests, narrowing it down for him.

Sanzas smiles a little before he forces it down to a frown. He thought she wanted to talk about Munvit, why did she want to know where he lived? It was small and rundown and in the swamp. “I dunno, it’s mine,” he says. “It’s a place.”

She nods, her brows furrowing together. Was it possible the new killer came from around that area? Maybe. Especially if they're not very strong like the senior officers suspect. 

"Did anything out of the ordinary happen there in the last few days?"

Sanzas squints at Sniffer, unsure of what she’s asking. “No,” he says. “Ain’t a lot of people in the swamp.”

She nods again, feeling the anxiety creeping in. She can speak just fine to adults. But kids from the swamp? S. O. S. Though the mention of not a lot of people hits her. There really would be nobody to find someone who died there. 

"I'd imagine not," She tucks her hair behind her ear. "I was thinking more, were there any strange trolls prowling around or something of the sort." Another pause. 

"Ah...how long were you and Munvit separated for after your fight?" Sanzas thinks for a second, but there’s been no one creeping where he’s been. “Three nights,” he says, kicking the back. Three nights. So that gives you a time frame between when he was last seen and when he was found.

"Can you tell me more about his other friends?" She's not going to ask if he even had other friends, but the thought does cross her mind all the same. If the place is that isolated, the answer is probably not very many.

“He talked with the coffee lady in the park lots,” Sanzas says, scratching his head. “She liked him and gave him hot chocolate sometimes.” 

There was a bunch of other pickpockets he’s run with too, but whatever Sanzas was, he’s not a snitch and he ain’t telling the police lady who else is running around stealing wallets.

Sniffer definitely is not about to inform him that he did, in fact, just tell her that. "Do you know the coffee lady's name?"

Sanzas shakes his head. “She’s always in Alestir Square Garden,” he says. “Sometimes on Freeman and Bolstic. But usually on Alestir.”

Sniffer pulls out her notepad and pen, jotting that down. If she's usually there and they're that close, maybe Munvit went to go visit her sometime during their separation? 

 "Who else did he talk to regularly? Anyone new?" Besides the obvious pickpocketing victim, of course. ...If he was a randomly picked target of someone he stole from, this case is going to get a whole lot harder to figure out.

Sanzas shakes his head. “Munvit doesn’t talk to new people easy,” he says. There was a bunch of new kids trying to take more turf down the block but Munvit wasn’t talking to them any, but maybe one of them killed him. It’d figure- start picking off the old gang and take up the old territory.

Another note in the pad. More turf, but Munvit didn't speak to them. That could be another angle to look into. There could be a chance of someone wanting to win a turf war and using the old case to make a statement. "Did you know any of those other kids personally?" What old gang? Sanzas shakes his head no. He’s crossed paths with a couple of them, but no real words exchanged except insults. 

"Hmm..." She taps her chin with her pen, eyes flicking over her notes as she thinks. "Another question..." Her voice drops slightly. This IS someone's quadrant she's talking about here. 

"Do you know anyone who was just particularly not fond of Munvit?" He was a lowblooded pickpocket, of course someone would want to hurt him and of course lots of people probably didn't like him. But a ritual killing? That's a different story. Narrowing down his list of enemies might serve you in the future, if any names on the list ever pop up further in the investigation.

Sanzas shrugs. Well. “There’s a shopkeeper who hates him,” he says. “She runs this corner shop he hangs around.” Sanzas pauses. No, Munvit won’t do that anymore. ‘Cause he’s dead. “Hanged around. He stole a bunch of stuff from her once. Dunno her name.”

“Also, Ashant doesn’t like him since he punched his pale crush in the face,” Sanzas lists off. He doesn’t like Ashant or the shopkeeper lady either. Sending the cops after them should cool their jets a little. If anyone did it it’s Polflo and her dudes.

More notes. More names. More leads to look into. Ashant, Polflo...She briefly wonders if maybe Download would know any of these names, despite not having lived down in that area for a while. And of course, there's more pangs at Sniffer's pumper. 

 "Hey." She says, putting the pen down and forcing herself to smile. She'd be halfway dead inside if anything happened to her team and she's not even quadded to any of them. "We're going to find who did this to him, okay? I promise." 

She starts to put a hand up then drops it. "I'm going to talk to my team for a bit. And when I come back, would you like anything in particular to eat?" The least she could do is bring him some food, right?

“Barbecue ribs,” Sanzas says immediately. “With a strawberry milk shake and bacon cheese fries.”

"Hey, strawberry shakes are my favorite too!" She laughs. "I know the best place to get one, too. I'll be back later today." She winks at him, waving as she approaches the door. "And-I probably don't need to tell you this, but it's my job. Keep the door locked and don't open it for anyone until I get back, okay?"

 She looks over her shoulder at him, watching him. "Okay,” he says and nods, bouncing on the pile. If he needs to leave he’s gonna leave. But this is pretty nice also.

"I'm serious. We need to-" No, no. You can't tell him that part. "Ah. Keep the door locked and stay inside or no shake for you, Sanzas." Sanzas groans loudly. 

“Fiiiiiine,” he says.The food would make it worth it.

She can't help but giggle. He's obnoxious, but kind of adorable. "See you soon." 

She steps into the hall and closes the door behind her, immediately pulling out her communicator when she takes a few steps down the hallway. She's got information to relay.

  VIRUS

There's a lot still unclear to Virus here. So while their teammates are out doing more exciting things, Virus sits down in the PDPO and shuffles through file after file. If they're honest, that's what they're good at anyways. First of all, and starting in hemo order, they want to see the individual cases. Mask pushed down and nursing a coffee, they stare at the first file.

The first file states that the first victim- Diafke Uksuso was a maroonblood who lived in the slums of Malseka. Their body was discovered on the outskirts of town by two teenagers looking for a quiet place to take mind honey. 

Uksuso had several neighbors who gave comments on their unpleasant personality and did not have close friends or quadrants.

Diafke was murdered with blunt force trauma, a blow to the head, and was taken to a flat area in the woods where their chest was broken open, a sigil was drawn in their blood and their heart was crushed. The case was assigned to a pair of other detectives first- Poppyseed, Disaster, Informer and Freelock, and then reassigned to Shadeeye's squad in Major crimes when the second body was discovered.

Virus takes several notes on this: Blunt trauma, ritual held in remote place, no one who would miss them. Then, solemn, they flip to the next victim

The next victim, Terrat Engate was discovered in an abandoned warehouse. The search for the body began after his moirail, Diorxu Ildoh, an indigoblood reported him missing and noted that their rail had been feeling like they had been followed for some time. Security footage recorded Terrat walking to the warehouse of his own apparent will followed by a hooded figure. Terrat was strangled on site, a sigil drawn in his blood, his chest opened and his heart crushed.

Virus takes notes again: Remote location, probably scope out victims for some time, which lines up with what Shadeeye and Steelwit reported. Possibility of mind control or  good liars. Then they flip to the next file.

Drezum Hielru was murdered in their hive. They were a fairly powerful psion and used it to make a deliver business that allowed them to live beyond what lowbloods usually have in Malseka. However, there was no signs of a psionic struggle. The door was not bashed in prior to discovery of the body, and the hive itself in a fair amount of order. Drezum was discovered by Khedes Zuskus, one of their regular customers, after a package wasn't delivered on time. 

Khedes knocked down their door to discover the body an called the police. Drezum left behind a matesprit and an auspistice, Niosno Eiscax and Lugnio Akzioz.

Second instant of a missing struggle. Signs are increasingly pointing to mind control. Again, body wasn't left in a public place, unlike the current murder. Virus scribbles down the different contacts, also going back to do it for the other two files, then moves on from the yellowblood.

Crinix Dancio was kidnapped from their hive. The PDPO was lying in wait for the cultists that night thanks to Odddream's tips. There was a fight that resulted in a near even trade- PDPO captured Tildia Diammi, but Crinix was taken away. Crinix was found in a back alley not far from the crime scene. The theory was that Crinix was killed in the getaway car and a few cultists had left it to complete the ritual while the others drew the attention of the police. Crinix was strangled, barehanded, her chest carved open and her heart crushed. Crinix's matesprit, Seafti Istuye found the body while passing through to visit her matesprit.

Olive murder was a rush job due to intervention, but still not in a public place. Cult still tried to pull through after loss of personnel, so they probably don't need a high number of people for their rituals, or even a specific one. Possibility of a one-man-operation? Virus closes the file, tapping their fingers on the desk next to their cooling coffee. The alleyway doesn't make sense. It's like the killer wanted the PDPO to find the body. Then they move on to the next report.

This is Odddream's murder. Odddream had returned hive early to sleep and see if they could dream up any more hints. Steelwit was the first to go hive with a headache to find Odddream's body in their living room and a cultist's hand in Odddream's chest. 

Steelwit spotted two cultists in cloaks and masks, and when she arrived with her gun drawn, she fired and killed the one who had crushed Odddream's pumper. The remaining cultist fled out the back but a third cultist was waiting there and shattered Steelwit's knee. She shot the cultist who injured her in the side but they fled the scene. 

Steelwit was unable to move and her phone battery was dead so it wasn't until Shadeeye returned hive, late, that she was able to get mediculler help. Unfortunately her leg never recovered. Thanks to the injury Steelwit inflicted on the cultist, a patrol was able to identify the culprit and two cultists were caught. 

Steelwit came home early to find the victim, possibly suspicious. Virus pushes themself away from the table. The last puddle of their coffee is cold, but they still throw it back. 

Finding one of their squad members dead like that - With the empty mug in hand, they take a moment to just stare at the wall. And then they shake the images of their dead friends out of their head, because they're a fucking professional, and keep working the case. 

They'll have to see later if there's any footage of the fight between Steelwit and the cultists. Because if there isn't, she's a prime suspect. She even has the injury as an alibi; it's almost too perfect. They'll also have to see if there's a standard uniform for the cultists. Note: Cloaks and masks. Then they move on to the teal case.

With the information gathered from Tildia, with the additional two captured cultists, they learned there were 6 cultists left. Town hall discovered the missing files of the victims, and alerted PDPO which allowed them to arrest the cultist who was stealing files. Izlato Crefex was the final victim.

 PDPO had ID’d her as the next victim from the missing town hall files. However, she insisted on maintaining a normal schedule with police protection. 

Unfortunately she disappeared from her escort’s sight. Her body was found in a back alley in town. She was murdered on her way home from work. She was strangled, barehanded, her chest carved open and her heart crushed. There was a wound on her hand from the same knife that carved open her chest that the ME speculated was self defense.  

She was put on a sigil drawn in her own blood and found by the garbage people several hours later when they were doing their rounds. Izlato left behind three quads, ash, pale, and pitch. Tildia gives the name of the cult leader, Girrea Inrifa, a navyblood who served as an advisor in city hall, and arrests are made accordingly. 

The captured cultists turn on each other for offers of leniency and quick deaths as opposed to forever tortured and the final members of the cult are arrested and sentenced. 

DOWNLOAD AND FIREWALL Download looks at the slip of paper that has the helm's captain's contact info on it- "Keenfire, tumblingOdyssey" with the sale paper of the ship "The-Silent-Dive-Of-An-Owl's-Wings-As-It-Springs-Upon-It's-Prey" formerly Tildia Diammi, ex-cultist.

"Shall we?" he asks Firewall.

She nods briefly, then her lips quirk up as she signs, "Do you think they call it Silent? Bit ironic, that."

"Who knows?" DL shrugs and smiles back. "Maybe his pan nanny ensures it."

Firewall mimes laughing and marches over to the -- i presume the PDPO has some sort of video-call conference room -- to ring up the captain.

The call spends some time ringing, before a tanky tealblood picks up the call- their face is round, with tell-tale Rickshaw splotches over their ears and cheeks, and they blink nervously into the screen before coughing into their fist.

"This is Captain Keenfire speaking," they say in slightly accented Standard. "This is the- er, Policeradication Department for Peace and Order? How may I help you?"

Firewall gives them a pleasant smile, which would maybe be less worrying if she stopped showing off all her damn teeth while she does it. She starts signing. 

"Greetings, Captain Keenfire. We understand the helmsman of your ship was involved in a case of cultism and serial murder several sweeps ago, and we would just like to ensure it is still functioning properly."

Keenfire blinks surprised several times and looks back to where you presume the helmblock must be. 

 "I have noticed no such malfunctions!" they say. "When I purchased it on auction I was aware of it's history and so I've kept restrictions to a high standard, but it's been working splendidly as a helm for three sweeps now. Not a blip of malfunction."

"Is there anyway we can speak to the helm itself? I'd like to question it about its compatriots, if possible."

Keenfire hesitates then considers the request. "Well I suppose I could lower the restrictions to allow access to this an only this video channel," they say. "Yes, yes that should be possible. You're lucky we're docking at the moment." 

 Keenfire types for a moment, then the screen splits in two, one half to a security footage shot of the permahelm in Keenfire's ship, the other remaining on Keenfire's face. A tinny, mechanical voice comes from the console. "Fuck you."

"Fuck you too," Firewall signs amicably. "Did any of your cultist friends escape the raid three sweeps ago?

"Now, Dive," Keenfire says and fiddles with the keyboard some more. "That is not very pleasant. I am sorry officers, I have kept it on silent for so long I haven't turned on any of the profanity filters. I will fix that immediately."

"Knew I'd get one shot at that lol," the helm says. "Three sweeps of silence and I get one F bomb out. Anyway you know, I still don't see any eeny weeny teeny reason I should tell either of you a single thing."

"Not even for relaxed privileges? A meal of real food, perhaps?" Firewall taps her claws absently on a table for a moment.  "Or perhaps my forbearance in not demanding your immediate execution."

"Hey!" Keenfire squawks. "Dive is my property, and I paid good money for it! There is nothing dysfunctional in its ability to helm, and it's only though my goodwill that I am allowing you to speak to it at all. You have no papers requisitioning my ship, and I am currently quite a few lightyears away from Alternia as it is."

"Yeah what they said," the helm drawls. "Honestly, you'd probably be doing me a favor. I'd put my eyes out if i have to watch this pompous mother lover prance around naked in the mirror and gel their hair again."Keenfire turns bright blue and slams a key and shunts away the helm again.

Firewall briefly closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Down by her side, where the video doesn't catch it, she signs, THIS MOTHERFUCKER to Download.To Keenfire, she continues, "It's succeeding in baiting you, I see. Kindly bring it back."

Keenfire shakes their head and sniffs. "I see no reason why I should!" they exclaim. "Are you going to continue making threats you cannot enforce? You do not have a warrant and I am far outside your jurisdiction so you cannot force me to do anything. I will not sacrifice my helm for an investigation I care nothing for."

Download puts a hand on Firewall's shoulder and steps forward. "It's a very important case," he says. "We'd indebted to you if you gave us a hand."

Firewall is dying internally, but she shoots Download a grateful look. Diplomacy is nowhere near her strong suit

Download gives Keenfire his most charming smile. "We're obviously not going to requisition your helm, Captain," he says. "And any promises we can make to Dive will be made with your approval, since of course, it is your helm." 

Keenfire settles his ruffled feathers a tad and sniffs. "Of course," they say. "I'm not objecting to helping what I'm sure is a deserving cause, officers, but there is a limit to what I can give!" 

 "Of course of course," Download says. "This is such a key piece of information, honestly, any sacrifice you'd  make should be honored, right Firewall?" He glances towards her and nods. "Perhaps it'd even deserve a plaque."

"Oh by all means give the pompous asshole a plaque." Firewall keeps her face in a bland, polite smile. "Don't tell them I said that. Thanks for making nice."

"It's twenty caegars for a trophy," Download signs back. "It doesn't need to be official, we just need to get this guy to talk." 

 "A plaque would be appropriate," Download translates instead. Keenfire huffs. "I see what you're doing,"  they say. "I don't need a plaque, young man, but you cannot have my helm. What would you want to promise?"

Firewall pulls a face. "What does it want? And what is the captain willing to offer it?"

Download signs back a shrug instead of showing Keenfire exactly what he's thinking. "Well," he says out loud. "The helm did make a request regarding your habits in front of the mirror." Keenfire turns blue again.

"I do not want to hear a word about my 'mirror habits,'" Keenfire snaps back. "What I do in my own time is not any of your business or any of my helms. I am very close to hanging up, officers."

Firewall continues to die inside.She signs, awkwardly, "Sorry, Captain. We have been under a lot of stress lately. What does your helm want? And what would you be willing to give it?"

Keenfire sniffs. "How should I know what a helm wants?" he says. "I do not talk to it." "Perhaps," Download begins. "For a one time deal, your helm insults you for sixty seconds. We don't have to listen to it, but your helm gets sixty seconds to say whatever it wants before you shut it down again."

Keenfire hesitates. "Alright but I want the plaque."

"Tell him we'll get his damn plaque." Firewall smiles politely at Keenfire. "And then, like, shoot me in the head."

"You'd deserve nothing less," Download says. "Now can you bring back Dive? We have to ask it if it'll accept the terms." Keenfire takes a breath as if to steel themself for the oncoming barrage of insults, presses a button and the helm is back. 

"Yes," it says immediately. "I'll do it. I will take that deal. With profanity lifted." Keenfire nods stiffly. "Tell us what you know first," Download says. "Then the captain will lift the profanity filter."

Firewall nods her assent and motions for the helm to continue.

“Well,” the helm says. “You probably won’t like what I have to say.”“It’s still worth sixty seconds though. You just gotta put your head to it for a sec.”

Firewall irritably signs, "Get on with it."

“4 dictionaries, 3 anthologies, 5 religious, 5 kashi-hon, 35 fantasy, 6 love, 1 out-of-print, 8 wisdom, 12 epics, 1 radioplay, 7 bilingual, 4 yearbooks, 100 journals, 2 outsider, 1 historical, 5 non-fiction, 122 gothic, 4 apocalyptic, 2 liturgicals, 3 satires, 262 wordless, 7 outdoors, 12 remaindered, 1 textbook.”

The words flash across the screen as well. Keenfire blinks rapidly. “What was that?” They exclaim.

Download squints at the screen and quickly takes a screenshot.“I know what I said before, but I don’t wanna die,” the helm said. “So I’m not telling you more. That’s still worth sixty seconds yeah?”

"What." Firewall massages her temples. "Okay. Cryptic bullshit gets thirty seconds. Thirty seconds more for every clue you give us."

“Fine fine. Uhhhh what else do you wanna know? I don’t know jack about what’s going on back there,” the helm says.

“What if this is useless information?” Keenfire demands. “What if this cryptic mess is simply a cryptic mess?”

"That's possible, Captain," says Firewall. "But it's essential that we find out this information. Helm, can you tell us how many people were in your group total?"

“1”“2”“One, two?” Download asks.“Put it together jerk.”“Three? Twelve?”

"Gotta be twelve, three's too few."

“They only did get ten of them,” Download signs back.“Is that thirty more seconds or do I get ninety total?”

"Thirty for the library list before, thirty for the number, you're at sixty right now." Firewall rubs the back of her neck. "What entity did you serve? What were you trying to summon?"(edited)

“Cae’thergungnam”

"Ninety seconds. Does anything matter about the sacrifices besides their caste?"

“Nope”

"Hundred-twenty seconds. Were there any secondary hideouts aside from the one the police raided?"

“No.”

"One hundred and eighty. Download, anything else to ask?"

“I think you’ve got it covered, boss,” Download signs. Keenfire sputters. “No one said anything about _a hundred and eighty seconds. Am I to stand here for a full three minutes and be insulted?”

"Well," says Firewall innocently, "you could always sit down."

Download snorts and translates it as is. “Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll send you two plaques.” And signs off.

Firewall glances at him sideways, clearly suppressing a laugh. "Two entire plaques?"

Download grins back at her. “Two whole plaques.”

She laughs soundlessly. "Did you get all of the list the helm showed us? We'll need that later."

Download nods and pulls on the screenshot. “It’s obviously some sort of cipher.”

"Oh, yeah, for sure." She leans over his phone to get a closer look, brows knit.

“I wonder why he told us like this instead of just. Answering the question.”

"He said he didn't want to die. I assume that means he fears retaliation from the cultists -- or the entity itself."

“Eugh,” Download shudders. “That would.... suck.”“It’s probably not the cultists though- he’s out all the way in space.”

Firewall pulls a face. "Oh, gross, I don't want to deal with some horrorterror on top of its loyal fans. We're going to have to sit down and look at this cipher... but maybe we should check back in with the others, first?"

Download nods. “We should keep each other updated.”

END OF HOUR THREE

[almostlikemylife]

My 2017 summary

With a “Keep reading” for your dashboard convenience because this is extremely long

January: I started the year with a delay on the flight taking me back to my place from my parent’s home, arriving late at night and having to wake up early next day to work. That next day I also had a phone interview that went well. I discovered that one of my friends didn’t have his contract extended and was now jobless. I went to a small house party where I met someone that made me fall into a massive crush on that person. One week later I met with a friend and one of my crush’s friends to talk and she promised to organize another gathering. We went to dinner with some other friends and ended the night at one of them’s place. I did a second interview and got the job. We had a second gathering and tried to know her a bit better but didn’t go well since as a social butterfly she couldn’t keep her attention only on me. A friend went back to his country and the farewell party was a blast.

February: Opened a bank account. Started talking to my crush on Facebook trying to meet for a coffee (date). She was up for it but “rain check”. I went back home to pick more clothes and stuff since my stay here was going to be longer than expected. Did some shopping for new clothes. Came back. Started my new job. Super stressful from day one. Tough coworkers. They threw the kitchen sink at me from the beginning. Continued trying to get a date with her but always an excuse. Started to feel really disappointed because the conversation was stagnant and with more time between replies every time. A friend working at the same company started telling me that the way they were treating me was wrong.

March: I met my crush on the bus one day and I was surprised to see her taking that bus. We talked and she told me she had spent the night at a friend’s house. At that moment it stroke me that maybe they had something together and that was the reason she wasn’t much into meeting with me. The conversation was dead anyways and we stopped talking. I was obliged to work for a few days from 8am to 11pm and was told that I couldn’t consider that overtime. That made me talk to HR to ask what exactly was overtime because if 15h at the office is not overtime then what is it. HR’s answer was “yeah we get a lot of complaints in your team. Get some experience and then leave. It’s what everyone does”. That baffled me. Then HR talked to my boss and he scolded me in private for having talked to HR. I went out with my friends and did not enjoy myself at all. Loud, noise, drunk people, being tired, worried about my job. That day I saw the friend at whose house I met my crush. We caught up and told to meet more often because we were rarely meeting. We didn’t see or talked to each other the rest of the year. I continued working long hours but now at least I was being able to charge overtime.

April: At my birthday I took cakes, croissants and other sweets fro breakfast to invite everyone at work. They were impressed with it but some told me that I should have brought this when I joined and then also for birthday so I was still owing them another breakfast. You have to be fucking miserable to think something like that. I went to Frankfurt by train for 2 days for a training. We had dinner with the rest of attendants and I remember one girl rolled her eyes at something on of my colleagues said; I found it funny because that was my sentiments exactly. Continued looking for a new place to live. First, for a change, but second becaue I wanted to meet new people and I wasn’t feeling close enogh with my current housemates/friends. Registered in OkCupid.

May: A new guy joined the team. That forced me to sit on a different area and spend more time with a different part of the team. I went to play laser tag with my friends/housemates and it was great. I went to a corporate event with the rest of the division (not only my team). There was a second optional day but I didn’t stay for it along with many more people who returned by bus at the end of the day. My colleagues took great offense in me not staying for the 2nd day. I visited some properties during the month but none convinced me. A guy left at work because “he wasn’t happy there”.

June: Another guy joined at work. I had tickets for a concert and couldn’t attend because at work they set a training the same day in another city. Went to the training with all the team and after it he had a visit to a castle and an exhibit followed by a dinner. Then they continued the party and got drunk, caused a brawl at a bar, stole bottles and a flag from the hotel. Me and other guy went to our rooms and didn’t participate in that, which was considered “poor teambuilding”. Finally found a place to move. It wasn’t perfect but I wanted to move before summer and it was the best I could find. Also I wanted to meet new housemates. Everyday I was less and less happy with the people at my job. I didn’t attend a summer party at the office just to avoid spending time with them.

July: I moved to my new house. 2 days later I lost my job for “lack of integration with the team”. Independently on the quality of my work and the opinion that I was meeting expectations, the fact that some didn’t like me on a personal level mattered more. They all “hid” on a meeting room while I was packing but got out too soon and crossed with me. None of them said a word or looked at me. I found myself in a new house, jobless right at the bginning of summer (quiet period). So after a week sending some applications I went back home with my parents. Felt depressing to be back in summer, with no friends, jobless and having to think what to do next. Kept applying nothing much happened the rest of the month.

August: During the first half of the month I stayed with my parents. I received an invitation to some online tests for a job, which lit me up. Went back to my place by mid month. Registered for unemployment benefits as my contract finished mid-month (officially I was on holiday without having to return to the office at the end of it). Registering was an ordeal. Tons of paperwork to do and counselors to meet. Did an initial online interview for the job for which I did the online tests also. Met again with my friends and went out with them a couple of times. They said that I looked much happier now but I wasn’t feeling that happy.

September: Went out with friends again but that night I didn’t enjoy it that much. Continued doing the benefits paperwork which turned into a bureaucratic nightmare. I needed a document that I could only obtain if I had worked at my country of origin but I never worked at my country of origin so it was impossible to obtain. At the end, I had to translate the only document I could obtain from my country certifying that I hadn’t worked there and wasn’t receiving benefits. My closest friend took some holidays and the others didn’t care that much about me so for weeks I didn’t see any of them. Rained a lot during that time. I went to an agency for a job but the client company was under restructuring and the process was on hold. Did the interview for the role of the online tests and it didn’t go well. They asked me to wait as some people from other department say my cv and they were opening a job too and wanted to meet me. I went a week later to do tests for the second role. My unemployment benefits were finally approved. I started meeting regularly again with my closest. At home, I rarely saw my other housemates. They were coming home at late hours and leaving early or not very social and spending their time on their rooms. I went to a birthday party. Was crowded, loud and I didn’t enjoy myself there. I met a friend’s friend to help her with something she is studying.

October: I met with friends a couple of times. My closest friend ditched me a couple of times because he was hangover. I went to a music fair and bought several CDs. I went alone to a concert because nobody else likes the same music as me. I liked it a lot. During the concert I saw a really nice girl close to me. I thought about talking to her but I didn’t dare to. I imagined that she wouldn’t like to be approached by a stranger. I did an interview that went really well. I was praised for my knowledge and told that with this CV I could work anywhere I wanted. It gave me hopes that I could get the job. I discovered that the guy that was hired in May at my previous job had been fired too. Apparently they didn’t like him on a personal level, like me. I met for Halloween with some of my friends to have a drink.

November: The first day of the month I went to have lunch with my friend. He called me out of nowhere, made me shower in a rush; all of that to then make me wait for an hour. We took a walk after lunch and thought about going to a cinema that plays old films at some point during the month. My house was without heating for 2 days.  I went for a little walk and it was dark and cold. Almost got a cold. I had a ridiculous interview in which they didn’t understand my profile, the profile for the job was for someone totally different, I had to make a nonsensical test and they “sold me” that most of the time I would be making photocopies. What a disaster. Then, the next day I got the answer from the interview I was praised at in October. It was a no. It pissed me off so much because it was almost a practical joke. I was almost in tears. Then my close friend was out for the weekend so I ended up going to the cinema alone. I asked for feedback and they told me that the only reason was having been fired from my previous job. But they gave my cv to other team that was interested in meeting. After another fruitless week I went to the cinema with a friend. After, we went for a beer and he told me he was considering relocating to Berlin. A girl at the bar looked at me with a smile for a long period and made me feel a bit nervous and flattered but nothing happened. I went to the cinema the next 2 days too. I had the other interview with the other team and it was surprisingly short and superficial. I had another interview for another role on the phone and went well. Another visit to the cinema with a friend. During this month I was so down and depressed and hopeless that I forgot to buy a ticket for a concert I wanted to go to. It was sold out when I remembered and I missed it. So, before the same happening twice I bought ticket to another concert.

December: I had a second phone interview (second part of the phone interview that went well). Strangely, I didn’t pass it because I lacked a specific knowledge which made me question why did they interview me at all. I went to the second concert and it was great. I’ve been listening to that band for more than 10 years and it was the first time I saw them live. Being in December already and knowing that this is a quiet hiring period until the new year starts (new budgets, etc...), I gave up with jobsearching for this year. Everyone said that January and February are much better. I had a small gathering with friends at one of them’s place. I was quite in a low mood but went anyway. Some of them I hadn’t seen them since summer (yay good friends). They were surprised that I was still unemployed. And they even said it with a bit of a smirk. Those who hadn’t gone through the same and had more opportunities in their lives can’t understand what you’re going through. It snowed several times. I went to the cinema alone one more time. When I told a friend he asked why didn’t I call. When I want to meet no one is available. When I go alone others ask me why I went alone. My close friend called me to go to the cinema and because of his poor planning skills, I had to rush to the cinema (he loves to call with no notice) only to wait for him for 20 min. When he arrived, there were no more seats available so we didn’t go at all. We had a coke at a restaurant and then I left because I had enough bullshit. Next day I took a flight home to spend Christmas with my parents. Listened to music, read a book I had pending, looked a bit into job offers (not much available at this time) and disconnected from the shitty reality this year has been to me.

[zenosanalytic]

DS9: Tribunal to Prophet Motive

Overall S2 wasn’t really that much better than S1, though it did have a handful of eps that were genuinely “good” television. S3’s also spotty but slightly better. One S3 trend I don’t like is the SUPER heavy-handed selling of Kira/Odo from basically the first ep on, and how it comes entirely out of nowhere. Also, Keiko is royally and consistently shafted and ignored, which is frustrating as hell. They FINALLY give her something to do, and not only is it presented as a “gift” from her husband(which, Ick! Like she’s not following the going’s on in her own damn profession???), they use it to effectively write her off the show! Ridiculous >:(

Tribunal: Bad. What’s the point of doing a courtroom ep that isn’t a courtroom ep? Sure, I can understand the theoretical appeal of the irony of a trial episode about a show trial, but you really need to embrace the absurdity of the concept for it to work and they didn’t. Also, the Cardassians are one-note(like all the non-human species in ST), and their one-note is “Order”, so Cardassian law, even if entirely show-trials in practice, really ought to be procedurally meticulous. An ep about Odo, skilled in these procedures from his time as a Cardassian security chief, out bureaucrating a culture of military bureaucrats to stall for time while the DS9 crew finds dirt to blackmail the Cardassians with would have been great and probably darkly funny; this was just dull. Also, there’s no way the Fed would stand for a Starfleet officer being snatched out of a Fed shuttle in Fed space like that, smuggling weapons or no, or believe for one second the Cardassian claim weapons were on the shuttle in the first place, given their past experiences. This would have caused a major diplomatic incident, and the Fed embassy corps on Cardassia Prime would have been all over O’Brien like ants on a summer picnic.

The Jem’Hadar: Fun and Good. Trying to do something simple and succeeds. Quark’s rant to Sisko about Ferengi history is obvsl convenient writing rather than fact -in TNG they’re aggressive, needlessly violent cruel pirates who, I’m pretty sure, are explicitly slavers as well- but it SHOULD be right. They’d be more interesting as a culture built around a capitalism that never saw any profit in compulsion. Historically, while slavery pre-dated capitalism in Earthican societies, slavery as we think about it -dehumanization, brutality, murderous forced labor- has nigh-universally been associated with capitalism, and quite frequently with commerce(Greek, Roman, and American slavery were all basically built around ag production for commercial markets[though slave-artisans based in cities was a significant part of the Greek and Roman systems as well]). That internal contradiction, attached to a larger ethical distaste for direct, personal violence(and valorization of tattling that’d go along with the instinctive distress-cry DS9 gives to Ferengi), while still being the profit-driven thieves and schemers they are, would have been Compelling.

The Search is… OK. I mean, as television it’s fine. The plot doesn’t make any damn sense though. The Dominion makes it clear they don’t want the Fed entering their territory and the Fed’s response is… to infiltrate deep into their territory to find the Homeworld of their leaders and confront them with the only warship in the Fed fleet? This move is basically designed to start a war. Also, they seem to forget that they’ve had Odo come to the Gamma Quadrant before, so his whole “I feel drawn to this nebula” deal seems out of left-field. Also Also, they should have used The Defiant to add the Romulan liaison as a regular cast member, instead of bringing on Eddington and doing nothing with him. Having Sisko, who has had an excellent relationship with Odo until now, suddenly giving this speech about how he doesn’t like that Odo isn’t “a team player” is pretty ridiculous as well(and out of character. Sisko’s not a team player. His WHOLE CREW is made up of square pegs just like himself). Also Also Also, a Romulan security officer who spends a season or two building up relationships with the maincast, sashaying around being arrogant and cynical in Romulan kimonos during her off-time, gradually developing Maquis sympathies, becomes Sisko’s evil!Valjean and remains so until nearly the end of the series would have been a genuinely surprising character-arc requiring consistently good writing to sell, and kind of explain why, in later eps, the Romulans wouldn’t require one of their own to protect and operate the cloak. Or hey! Maybe her becoming a Maquis could begin as a plot to foment rebellion in the Fed, that’d be neat.

Equilibrium: Meh

Second Skin: Good in some parts, but that the journals would be what starts cracking Kira up isn’t believable and it just isn’t mindfucky enough. Also, Kira’s warmth towards her fake dad at the end of the ep didn’t feel earned. Maybe if they’d had her bond with him over having lost family in the Occupation.

The Abandoned: pretty offensively essentialist, really. Especially given the plotline later in the series(iirc) about a Jem’Hadar trying to break his people’s addiction to ketracel-White, which kinda undermines this eps whole “the Jem’Hadar have no will of their own and are genetically programmed soldiers that it’s useless to reason with” line.

Civil Defense: good. It remains unbelievable to me, though, that Starfleet wouldn’t have done a complete refit of the whole station the minute the Cardassians left, especially given the Star Trek obsession with hard-wired, analog computing.

Meridian: a noxious pile of garbage all round. The subplot is skeezy, but at least it’s in-character, well-written, and believable which the main plot certainly is not. I kinda wish that, if they were going to include such a scummy sub-plot in the ep, they’d at least made it a bit interesting by subverting expectations. At the end, have Tiron be at first taken aback, and then surprisingly pleased with Kira’s modifications to the program. He walks out, “deeply satisfied” with the program and pays 20% extra for it, compliments Quark on his “creativity” as a holodesigner with a slightly amorous look, Quark is clueless and confused yet pleased, Kira and Odo are absolutely mortified. Then maybe leave it around as a Chekov’s Gun; Quark makes a secret copy(of course), offering it to only his best customers, it leads to a small but noticeable increase in custom, then someday in a later season he checks it out and is Horrified to find he’s unknowingly made himself one of the most popular porn-performers in the sector :|

Defiant: fine as it is, except there should have been a bit about HOW the Maquis found out about the Defiant and knew about its cloak. This would be a good time to introduce the long-arc of the Romulan officer’s Maquis sympathies/attempts to use her position on DS9 to co-opt the Maquis and undermine the Federation.

Fascination: dumb and really Skeezy, Ferrell’s is the only entertaining performance in the ep, but, again, the smooch-directing of this series is uncommonly good. Also: Miles is not just a bad dad, but also a bad husband. Also Also: Bajor’s only 3 hours away in a runabout or shuttle for Frak’s sake? You can’t be bothered to go visit her?? People in Texas regularly make three hour drives every DAY.

Past Tense: One of my favorite eps of the series; heavily Nostalgic for me. Having now read To Say Nothing of the Dog, however, I do wish ST writers treated Time and Causality as more robust and stubborn than they tend to.

Life Support: The inevitable killing off of a past love-interest to free Kira up for Kirdo. Bareil was bland and boring anyway, even if his performances in S3 were much improved. Why the heck is the Kai negotiating treaties??? That the Kai and Vedeks plays a direct, institutional role in Bajoran politics needed to be established before jumping into a plotline about the Kai negotiating a secret peace pact with Cardassia. The subplot with Jake and Nog, which reduces the question of female personhood to a “cultural issue” in the context of Nog’s misogyny ruining Jake’s chances with a girl who never appears again(iirc), is repulsive in about a half-dozen ways.

Heart of Stone: Ho-hum. The Nog in Starfleet storyline is good, but they should have built up to it in previous eps. Wesley spends pretty much all his time before acceptance doing science experiments and apprenticing in various departments on Enterprise to build up his resume just to qualify to take the exams; having Nog accomplish the same task with a letter of rec is kinda |:T Also: wouldn’t Sisko have pointed out that, in the Fed and Starfleet, Nog’s “gift” would be interpreted as an attempted bribe and get him immediately arrested? Seems like an important cultural rule to point out to a Ferengi |:T |:T

Destiny: Good. Ulani and Gilora are obviously lesbians and I won’t hear another word on the matter u_u

Prophet Motive: Fun and Good, though the “evolved” talk re: social constructs and cultural modes was annoying.

Why are S3′s subplots so much better done than it’s main ones? I imagine the discipline of having limited time to complete them in has something to do with it. Some other observations:

A-plot B-plot structure is entirely standard in S2 and S3, probably because it’s an obvious way to include such a large cast, but then all the plots revolve around the same handful of characters, so the opportunity is wasted.

It’d have been nice if every species was given the same variety of clothing the Ferengi get to have. Having Caradassians wear mil uniforms IN THEIR OWN HOMES, and when they are scientists, is absurd.

DS9 continues the Trek tradition of having a real nebulous and unexplained relationship with money.

DS9 really needed more women writers and head-writers on staff. Why are male writers so bad at this???

I really need to get in the habit of taking notes while I watch so I can give more detailed reactions later -__-

[misscrazyfangirl321]

You might be tired of hearing from me lol I just gotta know. How is Martin around the legacies? ( if he interacts with them at all)

First off, I love getting your asks!! Second, sorry this took so long! I’d typed a good chunk of it, when I realized Martin would have left the Waverider with Jax, and all of my headcanons were impossible. Whoops!Okay, here goes! Take two….He, Clarissa, Joe, Cecile, Donna, and Quinten are the Official Grandparents for all of the kids. Martin and Clarissa moved to Star City when Jax did. (Jax moved so that Thea could be closer to her family, and when Ray and Lily landed for breaks from the Waverider, they came to Star City anyway, so it seemed like the best thing.) In particular, Hannah and JJ spend a lot of time at Clarissa and Martin’s house, especially while Thea is sick. Sometimes they stay with Quinten and Donna instead, but for practical reasons, it usually ends up being Martin and Clarissa. (Martin can FEEL when Jax needs him to come get the kids, so Jax doesn’t have to call.) JJ is especially close to Martin. As a kid, he’d hide away in Martin’s office when everything got too loud, and he’d spend hours studying and learning. That’s probably where his passion for science comes from.Hannah is closer to Clarissa, but she loves Martin dearly. He’s incredibly proud of her, and tries to tell her so as often as possible. He’s definitely protective of her, (and JJ as well, honestly,) because he can feel Jax’s torment at their mother’s suffering, and he knows how much worse it would get if something happened to them.The Flash Kids aren’t around Martin as much, but they still love him to pieces.Emily is probably the closest to him out of all of the Flash kids. She’s been calling him grandpa her whole life, though she doesn’t learn exactly why until she’s older. (She’s quiet as they tell her about Ronnie, about the role he played in the lives around her. It’s hard to imagine that she might not have been born if he hadn’t died.) They don’t spend a lot of time together, just because of distance, but he always sends her the best presents. Luke and Martin get along okay, but they aren’t particularly close. Martin’s the science guy that Luke’s dad thinks is so amazing, and he’s quite excited about Luke “becoming a hero like your father,” so Luke tends to keep his distance. Dawn regularly uses her superspeed to visit all the grandparents when she’s younger, (sometimes without permission, which can be chaotic,) but as she gets older, and more questions of “What are you going to do with your life” come up, she tends to run off more on her own. Martin always asks her for souvenirs from different countries, and encourages her that she can be or do anything she wants. Don gets along with Martin okay. He respects him as a hero, and thinks he’s pretty cool, (for lack of a better word,) but they aren’t exactly close.Waverider Kids… He obviously isn’t incredibly close to them, just because he doesn’t see them as much. He misses it, sometimes, (often,) the whole travelling through time thing, but he wouldn’t trade his life now for the world.Victoria is his actual granddaughter, and in ways, they’re close. He loves her to pieces, and she loves him, and he always has a mountain of presents for her when she gets back. Sometimes those presents are hit or miss, especially if the Waverider doesn’t land for awhile. (Give a 13 year old gifts for an 11 year old, and see what happens.) Still, they love each other.Dinah inherited her parents’ snark, so she banters with him often when they see each other. They both hold their own pretty well, and if no one stops them, they can go back and forth for hours.Gabe... Oh, boy. Okay, full disclosure: Gabe reminds Martin way too much of Mick. And Mick has come a long way, but Gabe hasn’t. Not yet. When Martin first finds out that Gabe is now onboard the Waverider with Victoria, he’s furious. “You’re letting that-that delinquent endanger my granddaughter?” Of course, he never says a word of it to Gabe, but Gabe can feel the distrust, and in turn, he pops off with thing to make Martin trust him even less. Not the best relationship, at least at first. As time goes on, they slowly, reluctantly start to accept each other. (Martin saving Gabe’s life during one of the visits to Star City probably has something to do with that.) Still, the two aren’t exactly close.Kali, on the other hand… Martin counts her as one of those, like Clarissa, Jax, Lily, and Victoria, that prove he must have done something right in his life. From the moment she steps off the Waverider to meet him the first time, she completely embraces him as her grandfather. Every time they see each other, she regales him with tales of their adventures through time, and brings him tiny souvenirs from various time periods. Slowly, her mountain of gifts grows to match Victoria’s, and he feels years younger every time he sees her.-Ta-da!!! Thank you so much for the ask! I hope you enjoyed!

[lotus0kid]

Happy 5th anniversary!!!! 🎆🎆🎉I have a prompt, Belle is pregnant and while out on a date( or just out of their house) with her husband Rumple, her water breaks.

OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 12th

((Thanks for prompting!  Hope this works for you.))

“Are you warm enough?”

 It must be the sixth time he’s asked, but Belle’s endlesspatience allows her to reply, “Perfectly.”

 Rumpel still peers over the top of her head at the smallspace heater placed on the back porch, where they sit beneath a blanket ofstars.  It’s growing colder at thebeginning of October, but he’ll do whatever it takes to allow Belle tocomfortably venture out into the open, breathe fresh air and feel the wideworld around her.  She’s been in far toomany cages.

Moderately assured that all is well, he settles beside her,curling his arm a little more firmly around her shoulders.  His other hand hovers near her hip.  Without even looking, she catches his wristand lays his hand over her round belly. An automatic smile lights Rumpel’s face, even as an undercurrent of fearcontinues to flow, whispering that this won’t last, it’s too wonderful, it’llget snatched away, he’ll ruin it, just wait and see.  He draws in and releases a deep breath, anddrowns the whispers in a bath of stars.

 A cloud sails by and slowly reveals a shining crescentmoon.  Beside him, Belle lets out a smallhum.

 “What are you thinking about?” he asks, filled withcuriosity.

 “Just an old story, from home.  About where stars come from.”

 “Yes?”

 “They’re the children of Umera, the goddess of night.  She places them in a cradle, which is thecrescent moon.  When the moon grows full,they go out into the sky, as stars.”

 “A child every month, that’s a large family.  Is there a father?”

 Belle smiles and dips her chin.  “Yes. Vinaos, the god of the day.” Belle turns to fix her eyes on Rumpel. “He brings light to Umera’s darkness.”

 Beneath Rumpel’s hand, he feels the tap of a tiny kickingfoot.  He grins, “I think the little onelikes that story.”

 Belle’s chuckle is full of warmth and love as she pressesher hand over Rumpel’s.  “Not long beforewe get to meet them.”

 “No, not long.”

 Belle rests her head on Rumpel’s shoulder, and they wait forthe future to arrive together.

 ---

 Rumor has it that Rumpelstiltskin is working on some new objectof terrible dark magic.  The shop hasn’tbeen open for days, though a brave soul snuck around back and peeked through awindow to see him bent over his arcane work. The spy could only say it seemed to be made of black fabric and that hewas sewing something into it with fierce concentration.  It was decided that no move would be madeagainst the sorcerer, not yet.

 Currently, said sorcerer is having a cup of tea and readinga book one evening when his wife returns from the library.  At this point in Belle’s pregnancy, Rumpel isready to beg her to stay home, but she simply promises not to do any heavylifting and goes her own way.  He mustadmit that the library is her first child, and she will care for it as long asshe’s able.

 She joins him on the couch and holds out a small rectangleof stiff paper.  “Look what Snow droppedoff today.”

 It’s an invitation to a Halloween party, Rumpel reads.  “Well,” he says, “I’m not sure why shethought you’d be interested in a party that late in the month.  Or that shewould, for that matter.”  Thequeen-turned-bandit-turned-teacher has already had one child and will soon bewelcoming her second, so she ought to know better.  She and Belle have actually bonded somewhatduring their nearly concurrent pregnancies. Rumpel and David have tried not to make much eye-contact with eachother.

 He looks at Belle, but doesn’t find the agreement heexpects.  “What if I am interested?” sheinquires.

 Feeling metaphorical tremors in the ground below his feet,he swiftly replies, “Then I’d say have a lovely time, dear.”

 It’s not the correct answer. Her face falls into a pout, “You wouldn’t come with me?”

 “I, well, that is...” Rumpel sputters, “No one’s ever beenhappy when I’ve turned up at a party.”

 “And they never will if you don’t try,” Belle counters,“We’re all in this together now, Rumpel, we need to make an effort to geton.  Besides that, Snow and David arefamily now, thanks to Henry.  Can I writeyou down as my guest?”

 Well, if nothing else, Belle’s looming due date must betaken into consideration.  He’ll likelybe a bundle of nerves, but he won’t leave his wife’s side.  “Of course you can, sweetheart.”

 Belle gives him a brilliant beam, only for it to quicklyfade.  “Hm, well, now I have to think ofa costume.  Gods, what would evenfit?”  She gestures at her ponderousabdomen.

 “Actually, about that... Hang on.”

 He climbs to his feet and heads for his office to fetch the gifthe luckily just finished today.  He’sspent hours upon hours fussing over it- it’s probably for the best he can giveit to her now.  He strides back to theliving room and sits down, presenting Belle’s gift with a flourish.

 Her mouth falls open as she carefully takes the black dressfrom him.  “Rumpel, this is amazing,” shebreathes as her fingertips explore the minutely detailed embroidery of acrescent moon that decorates the stomach area of the dress.  Every crater, mare, and rill is represented,until all fades into shadow.

 “I did what I could,” he replies humbly, “I liked your starstory too.”  He leans over to kissBelle’s cheek, only to find it wet with streaming tears.

 At his concerned hum, she gives him a wide if waterysmile.  “It’s so beautiful, Rumpel.  Thank you.” She leans in for a kiss he is happy to collect, despite the tang ofsalt.  Then she’s levering herself offthe sofa and marching away, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m trying it on rightnow.”

 Rumpel holds his breath until she returns, then lets it outin a sigh of relief as he sees the dress’s perfect fit, especially in thedecoration, which cradles the curve of Belle’s stomach on the lower right side.  “I love it!” she cries, spinning to make theskirt flare around her thighs.  Then shepauses and faces Rumpel.  “What aboutyour costume?  Vinaos might be a littleobscure.”

 “Not to worry,” he replies. A purple cloud bubbles up in his hands and dissolves to reveal anastronaut’s helmet, complete with a visor coated with opaque gold.  He puts it on and flicks the visor down,hiding his face.  “In case anyone getsannoying,” he explains.

 Belle giggles even as she shakes her head at him, then goes totake off her new costume and put it away until it’s needed.

 ---

 The final few weeks before Belle’s due date are even worsethan Rumpel imagined.  He hardly sleeps,which is more of a problem than he anticipated. Back home where the Dark Curse is strong it sustains his everyneed.  Out here amidst the imported magicof Storybrooke, he needs to help it along. But that’s becoming steadily more difficult as the days go by, and thevicious whispers command him to be on guard every second for someto-be-determined doom.

 Belle is restless as well, but in a surly, frustrated wayRumpel knows he can’t begin to understand. He does catch her whispering furiously at her stomach, “Get out, justget out, I know you’re ready, so get on with it!”

 By the time Snow and David’s Halloween party rolls around,Belle’s raring to go just to burn off excess energy.  Rumpel is too addled from lack of sleep to domore than trail after her in his astronaut helmet and a gray jumpsuit.

 They’re fashionably late mostly because of Belle’s two emergencybathroom visits.  When they reach theapartment building, she marches stolidly up the stairs, though she needs torest on Rumpel’s arm halfway up.

 “If you’re tired...” he begins, stopping when Belle giveshim a severe glare she belatedly twists into a smile.

 “I want to do this. Let’s go.”

 They make it to the landing, where Belle takes a long momentto collect herself before pushing the doorbell. The door soon swings open to reveal Snow White wearing a ring of brownfrills around her hips with her belly painted robin’s egg blue complete withspeckles on top.  Her jumper has a row offeathers down each arm and a construction paper bird’s beak is tied over hernose.  She smiles wide and cries, “Belle,you made it!  Come in!”  That smile shrinks as her gaze moves overBelle’s shoulder and lands on Rumpel.  “Oh,hello, Rumpelstiltskin.  Thank you forcoming.”

 As if she never locked him in a subterranean prison andthrew away the key.  As if he neverconspired with her greatest enemy to ruin her happy ending.  Life is a funny thing.  “Good evening,” he responds, and sidles inbehind Belle.

 “I love your costume,” Snow exclaims at Belle, “The moon,that’s so great, why didn’t I think of that?”

 Belle finds a true smile as she looks down at herdress.  “Rumpel made it.”

 “Oh,” Snow says, a shadow flickering over her face beforeshe brightens again, “Oh!  Okay, so that’s...  Anyway, this detail is amazing.  What kind of spell does that?”

 “My two hands, dearie,” Rumpel can’t help sniping, “You knowI can actually breathe without using magic, if I concentrate.”

 Snow shrinks back with wide eyes and a pinched mouth.  Belle gives him a very subtle jab in theribs.  “Rumpel, she’s being nice.”

 It’s always been his opinion that Snow being “nice” is halfher problem, but he clears his throat and says, “Indeed.  Apologies. And thank you.”

 “You’re welcome.  I,uh, I sewed this too.”  She plucks at abit of brown frills.

 He has to smile at the tiny gleam of hope in her eyes, anddeigns to look over her handiwork.  “Verynice,” he decides.

 Snow beams, “Thanks. So, anyway, we’re all in here, really informal, just family.  There’s snacks, and wine and beer, andsparking apple juice for the two of us...”

 She leads Belle and Rumpel toward the living room area,where the sofa and a few chairs are occupied by David, Emma, Regina, andBae.  Agonizing though it’s been, Rumpelhas given Bae total control over how much contact to have with him.  They see each other fairly regularly, thoughboth are naturally preoccupied with their unique fatherly duties.  It still feels like a miracle to see Bae turnto him and smile- not as warm and bright as before, but an unspeakably vastimprovement to the ragged hole he left in Rumpel’s life for so long.

 When Rumpel can expand his attention beyond Bae, he findssmiles of varying degrees of friendliness all around the room directed at himand Belle.  Wearing his own featheryjumper and bird beak, David says, “Hi, guys! Great costumes!”“Yes!” Snow chimes in, “Isn’t Belle’s great? With the black fabric and the sewing?”

 There’s a round of thoughtful nods Rumpel chooses not tointerpret.  Emma scoots closer to Reginato let Belle sit at the far end of the sofa. David sets a chair for Rumpel between Belle and Bae.

 “Thank you,” he says as he sits, and notices Bae eyeing himfrom beneath a Yankees cap.

 He twists the grip of a lowered baseball bat between hispalms and murmurs, “Please tell me you aren’t wearing a suit under there.”

 The fact that Bae knows how he customarily dresses is enoughto make Rumpel’s heart glow.  He gives hisson a smirk and quips, “Just a linen, very light.”

 Bae snorts into his chest and Rumpel feels like a hero.  It’s somewhat easier after that to sit andchat a bit, or just listen to the conversations floating around him.  Snow hands out ghost-shaped biscuits andpumpkin cupcakes.  Rumpel actuallyrelaxes a little, even finds his eyes drifting shut a bit.

 “Okay, everyone!” Snow’s cheery declaration startles him tofull awareness.  Belle shoots him anamused look as Snow continues, “I was thinking to wrap up our evening, we mightwatch a scary movie.  How’s that sound?”

 “Fine, as long as it isn’t Rosemary’s Baby,” Regina replies, painted cat’s whiskers curling asshe sneers in Belle’s direction.

 “As long as it isn’t TheWicker Man,” Emma retorts before Rumpel can take Regina’s head off with afireball.  She adjusts her cowboy hat andleans back so light glints on the silver star pinned to her plaid shirt.

 “I was gonna go with Jaws,”Snow pipes up.

 “That’s barely ahorror movie,” Regina says, “But it’s acceptable.”

 “Why thank you, Your Majesty,” David mutters on his way tothe television.

 Belle leans over to Rumpel and whispers, “Do I even want toknow?”

 “Ignore her, sweetheart,” he replies, lacing his fingerswith Belle’s firmly.

 “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

 He winces, remembering that while Snow and David haveapparently forgiven and forgotten Regina’s wide array of sins, neither of themlanguished as her prisoner for years on end. And Belle wouldn’t have, if you’dbothered to look for her.  Ah, that’sright.  Rumpel’s sins make Regina’s looklike the mischief of a playground bully. And yet Belle, the best person he knows, has willingly become his wife,and the mother of his child.  Life is sovery funny.

 While Sheriff Brody is attempting to save his picturesquetown from a killer shark, Rumpel feels Belle’s fingers tense sharply betweenhis.  He glances at her and sees she hasher other hand pressed to her stomach.  “Belle,are you all right?” he whispers.

 “I’m... fine.  I justneed to use the toilet.  Help me up?”

 He leaps to guide Belle off the sofa.

 “Excuse me, sorry,” she murmurs to the rest of the group asshe eases out and down the hall to the bathroom.

 Rumpel takes his seat, but watches her go with worrychurning his stomach.  Eventually hemanages to refocus on the film.  He’salmost comprehending dialogue again when Belle’s cry of “RUMPEL!” strikes hisbrain like a bolt of lightning.  He’s atthe bathroom in a literal flash.  “Belle,I’m here, open the door.”

 For an awful moment there’s nothing but a low, torturedmoan.  Then the door cracks open.  He pushes it open to see Belle hunched over,gripping the sink with a puddle of liquid between her feet.  She gives him a tremulous, agonized smile andsays, “Oops.”

 “Okay,” Rumpel breathes, attempting to force his paralyzedbrain into functioning.  “We need... toget to the car.”

 Dismay fills Belle’s face, “Oh, I don’t know if I can do thestairs ag- AH!”  Her body tenses hard andRumpel imagines if she were any stronger she’d tear chunks out of thesink.  All he can do is lay careful handson her arm and back and let her lean into him until it passes.

 “Belle, we need to be home,” he tries to explain, “That wasthe plan, wasn’t it?”  Quite honestly, atthis moment he has no idea what their plan was, despite the hours of work thatwent into it.  He holds up his hands andpurple smoke starts to swirl around them. “Can I just-?”

 “No magic!” she cries, “Not now, I don’t want to travel likethat, when I’m like this.  Please?”

 The smoke vanishes under her desperate gaze.  “Of course, but...  I just...” He glances around and notices the group of people standing four feetaway, staring like this is another scene in the film.

 Snow steps forward, slipping past Rumpel and moving toBelle’s side.  “I guess the baby isn’t afan of Richard Dreyfus, huh?” she remarks gently.

 “Who?” Belle asks, but another contraction steals Snow’sanswer as she moans louder than ever and doubles over.

 “Okay, it’s okay, just keep breathing...” Snow murmurs asshe rubs Belle’s back.  To Rumpel, shesays, “So, poofing her home is out and the stairs are a problem.  What does that leave us?”

 “How about the tub?” Emma suggests, peering over Rumpel’shead.  “Like a water birth.”

 The words snap Rumpel’s brain back into action.  “Yes! That was the plan.  Good.  Belle, w-?”

 “Let’s do that!”Belle wails.

 With a great sweep of his arm, Snow’s narrow tub is replacedby a wide, deep Jacuzzi filled up three-quarters with warm water.

 “Wow,” Snow briefly marvels, “Okay, yeah, great.  Belle, let’s get you, uh... Oh, hey, I thinkwe need a little privacy now, please?”

 To Rumpel’s surprise, Regina turns to the rest of the partyand declares in her most imperious tone, “All right, gawkers, back off. Rumpeland Snow only, let’s give them some space, come on.”  She herds Bae, Emma, and David back down thehall.

 Snow says to Belle, “We’ll get you in the tub soon,okay?  It’ll be nice and warm and you canrelax.  Let’s take off these shoes, andget out of the underwear- just lean on Rumpel, that’s fine...”

 While Snow does the necessaries, Belle’s head droops towardhis shoulder, only to bump against the bloody astronaut helmet he only just nowrealizes he’s still wearing.  “Sorry,sweetheart,” he mumbles, banishing the thing to oblivion where it belongs.  Belle presses her damp forehead into thecurve of his neck, and he smooths a hand over her hair.

 “Okay, we probably want to get that lovely dress offtoo.  Rumpel, if you could unzip theback?”

 They ease Belle out of her costume.  In a moment of whimsy, Rumpel sends it tohang over the curtain rod by the tub where she’ll be able to see the crescentmoon.  He also replaces Belle’s bra witha softer bikini top.  With one last wavehe replaces Snow’s costume with dark blue nurse’s scrubs.  She shoots him a startled look, but wiselysays nothing.  They don’t quite manage toget Belle into the tub before the next contraction hits, and she sags betweenhim and Snow with another bone-deep groan.

 “Almost there, Belle,” Snow croons, “A few more steps- canyou take a few more steps?”

 “I... okay...” she whimpers.

 “I’m here, love,” Rumpel says, “Come on, follow me.”

 They inch up a smooth ramp to the edge of the tub where itparts into a short stairwell.  Bellesighs as soon as her foot enters the water. Snow has her sit on the edge and part her legs so she can take a look atwhat’s going on.

 Holding Belle steady against his chest, Rumpel asks Snow, “Youdo have a fairly clear idea of what you’re doing, yes?”

 “Sure.  I’ve done thisbefore, albeit from Belle’s end, and anyway we’ve been sharing all ourbooks.  I knew she was leaning toward awater birth.  Really, they’re so natural,as long as there aren’t any complications my job’s basically just to standthere and catch.”

 “And if there are- complications?”  Even thinking the word sets off sirens in hishead.

 Snow looks him in the eye, “How about you go and call yourmidwife now, just in case?”

 Cursing himself for not thinking of that sooner, Rumpelgently shifts Belle into Snow’s waiting arms and steps away from the tub andout of the bathroom.  It takes a specialperson to even consider delivering the Dark One’s child, but Mistress Oggseemed downright cheerful about the idea when their paths crossed at thehospital.  She seems cheerful about mostthings, but Rumpel and Belle detected a core of iron in the old woman that wasencouraging enough to bring her on.

 Once he fumbles his way through phoning her, it takesseveral rings and a strange burst of static until a voice sings out, “Coo-eee,Rum, how are things?”  Mistress Ogg’svoice sounds a bit distant, perhaps he’s on speakerphone.  Mountain wind whistles down the line.

 “Belle’s in labor,” he replies shortly while Snow sneaks outaround him and walks down the hall.

 “Ah, a bit early but not bad.  How quick are the contractions coming then?”

 “I... I’ve no idea.” He curses himself once more for letting panic conquer him so completely.

 “To be expected,” Mistress Ogg says breezily.  “I’ll be on the road then.  Could be a little while though, I’ve a longway to go.  She’s in the water now?”

 Rumpel wonders just how far away she can be in Storybrooke,but regardless pokes his head into the bathroom to see Belle leaning back withher arms laid along the edge of the tub, eyes closed, face pale but calm.  “Yes, she is. And we’re not at home.  We’re ata... a friend’s place.”

 “Right, I see.  Bethere as quick as I can, love, not to fret.” She hangs up before Rumpel can give her Snow’s address.  He’s about to call again when a small cryfrom the bathroom has him stuffing his mobile into a pocket and rushing toBelle’s side.  She grips the edges of thetub with her face twisted into a grimace. Rumpel sits behind her and smooths his palms down her tense arms.  “Deep breaths, love,” he reminds her softly.

 Belle drags in and blows out air at a slow, even pace.  She relaxes as the contraction passes.

 “Mistress Ogg is on her way.”

 “Good.”

 “How are you?”

 “Better, now.”  She tiltsher head back and peers up at him to murmur, “Sorry about this.  I know we wanted to be at home.”

 Rumpel just smiles and cradles the back of Belle’s head inhis palm.  “This is perfectly fine, sweetheart.  We’re... we’re with family.”

 That wins him a smile. He dips a hand in the water to check its temperature, stirring in a bitmore heat.  Belle hums and takes a fewmore deep breaths.  Her gaze wanders tothe hanging dress and she inquires dreamily, “We still like the name Lucy,right?”

 They considered every option in the book, and in severalother books, and that was a particularly strong contender.  Though they opted not to learn the genderbeforehand, as her due date has neared Belle’s become thoroughly convincedshe’s having a girl.  “I like it if youdo.”

 “How about Estelle as a middle name?”

 A corner of Rumpel’s mouth curls up.  “Lucille Estelle.”

 “Our starlight.”

 He bends down to kiss the top of Belle’s head.  “Sounds perfect to me.”

 All that’s really left to do is wait.  As the contractions quicken, Snow returns tolift Belle back onto the edge of the tub and check her readiness.

 “I... I feel like I might need to push,” Belle whimpers,twisting clenched fists in Rumpel’s jumpsuit.

 “Well, I think that’s because you need to push,” Snowreplies, “I can see the head.”

 Belle lets out an anxious moan, “But Mistress Ogg isn’there- ah!  I have topush!”

 “Okay, come back in the water, here we go...”  Snow and Rumpel guide Belle into the tub andlet her position herself kneeling with her elbows braced on the edge.

 Snow crouches behind her in the tub while Rumpel comes toface Belle on the outside, letting her grab his hands in a vice grip.  “It’s too soon,” she whispers, “What ifsomething’s wrong?”

 Rumpel rests his forehead against hers.  “Then we’ll handle it.  Everything will be fine, Belle, Ipromise.”  In this moment, despite allevidence, he actually believes that.

 Belle manages a tiny smile before it contorts into a grimaceand her whole body strains.  After amoment, Snow announces, “The head is out! I don’t feel an umbilical cord. Let’s work on the shoulders now.”

 “It hurts...” Belle grits out.

 “I know, but keep going, you’ll get through it soon.”

 “You can do this, sweetheart,” Rumpel murmurs, “I’m righthere with you.  I love you.”

 Belle’s eyes lock on his and don’t break contact even as shegroans and pushes with all her strength. Somewhere far away, Snow says one shoulder is out.  Belle’s groan intensifies into a powerfulbellow.  “That’s it!” Snow cries just asthe bellow stops and Belle’s left panting and trembling, her head falling toRumpel’s shoulder.

 Rumpel looks in wonder as Snow gently lifts a tiny, wrinkly,squirming creature out of the water.  Shewipes at its nose and mouth, it wriggles a little more and releases a plaintivewail.  Belle’s whole body shudders at thesound and she lets out a sob.

 “It’s a girl, Rumpelstiltskin,” Snow says with a beam, “Aperfect little girl.”

 “She- she’s... okay?” he quavers, halfway to sobbinghimself.

 “Seems like it,” Snow replies, wincing a bit at anotherrather piercing cry from the baby, “Let’s have her meet Mom, huh?”

 Rumpel helps Belle carefully turn over.  She’s still shaking, but her arms are steadyas Snow places the baby in them.  Thewailing stops instantly as she snuggles into Belle’s chest.

 “She is perfect,” Rumpel whispers in awe, his chin onBelle’s shoulder.

 “Hello, Lucy,” Belle murmurs, “How nice to meet you.”

 “Our starlight.”

 Minutes or perhaps days later, someone bustles into thebathroom saying, “Cheer-o, ducks!  Lookslike the little mite beat me to the punch. Let’s see what’s left for me to do.” Mistress Ogg makes quick work of tying off and cutting the umbilicalcord.  “There now, how about we have thehappy da bundle up his girl while the afterbirth comes?”

 Rumpel has never wanted to do anything more, or been soafraid to do it.  Belle shifts Lucy intohis arms like she’s made of glass. Mistress Ogg pops off her boots and socks and climbs into the tub whileSnow lays out a clean, soft towel on the floor. Rumpel kneels down and lays Lucy on it, where she immediately frowns andsquirms against the cold.  “Don’t worry,dearest, I’m here,” he whispers while wrapping her up snugly, “There you are, safeand sound.”

 He picks her up and holds her to his chest before moving tosit on the closed toilet seat.  They gazeat each other with tired eyes.  When hersslip shut, he manages to tear his own away and notice Bae standing outside thebathroom, looking more like a nervous teenager than Rumpel would think possible.

 “Baelfire, would you like to meet your sister?”

 His eyebrows jump and he stuffs his hands into his pockets,but he pads into the room and hunches over to grin down at the baby.

 “This is Lucille Estelle Gold.  You can call her Lucy.”

 “Hey, Lucy.  I’m Bae.  Or Baelfire. Or Neal.  Or whatever.”  He and Rumpel chuckle quietly.  Lucy’s eyes crack open and blink a few timesbefore closing again.  “She’s beautiful,Papa.  I can’t believe I’m a bigbrother.”

 “Life is very, very funny, son.”

 Mistress Ogg has drained the tub, swathed Belle in a severaltowels, and delivered the afterbirth before she suggests Lucy try nursing.  Rumpel carries the baby to Belle, and eventhough she seemed quite deeply asleep, she latches on to her mother’s breastquickly.

 “Hungry one, isn’t she?” Mistress Ogg remarks, “That’sfine.  She doesn’t like wasting time, weknow that much.”

 After a while, Belle lets Rumpel perform some very gentlehealing magic so she can get out of the tub at last.  He transforms her bikini top into a looseblack dress that shimmers with silver and blue sparkles.  Her original dress gets bundled up and pushedinto a pocket of Rumpel’s jumpsuit.  Hekeeps one arm firmly wrapped around her waist as they leave the bathroom, Lucyheld close to Belle’s chest.  They findthe rest of the party sitting at the kitchen table, looking on curiously.

 A wide smile stretches across David’s face before he all butbounds over to them.  “What a night,huh?  Are you all okay?”

 “We’re fine,” Belle replies, “Lucy, this is Prince David,your...” Her gaze jumps to the ceiling as she puzzles out the family tree, “Nephew’sother grandfather.”  Emma and Regina havestood and come to flank David.  Belle’sgaze moves over them as she says, “And that’s Princess Emma, your nephew’smother.  And- Regina, his other mother.”

 Emma peers over David’s shoulder and smiles warmly, butdoesn’t seems too interested in getting closer. Regina gives Lucy a smile as well, this one more wistful thananything.  “What a sweet little girl,”she says, her voice softer than Rumpel’s ever heard it.

 “We’ll be going home now, I think,” Belle says, heading tothe door where Snow stands.  “Thank you,”she tells her, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

 “Anything you want is yours, Snow,” Rumpel says, “And I domean anything.”

 “Oh, no, please, it was the least I could do...” sheinstantly demurs, up until she bites her lip and mutters, “Can we keep thetub?”

 Rumpel snorts. “Yes.  And you can send me thewater bill.”

 “Deal.  Thanks forcoming to my little party, guys.”

 “We had a... an interesting time,” Belle saysdiplomatically.  Rumpel snickers, thenguides his wife and daughter through the door as Snow holds it open.  Mistress Ogg follows, coming along to helpthem settle in at home.  The small familyheads into the future together.

[sleepymarmot]

DS9 season 1 liveblog

[Season index: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 PS]

Emissary

Wait, "kidnapped for six days"? I thought the timeframe was much tighter...

I hope Kira won't always overact so much.

I like how quickly Sisko can go from barely contained cold hatred to cheerful manipulation.

Bashir's LITERALLY FIRST LINE is flirting! I'm honestly impressed :D

Bwahaha, tell him, Kira!

...Did O'Brien change back into his old uniform just to visit the Enterprise? 

O'Brien now talks to computers just like Geordi.

Is this show going to regularly use baseball as a metaphor, like TNG did with poker? :D

This episode is a much better take on explaining humanity to an alien than "Encounter at Farpoint".

Past Prologue

The entire opening scene is just delightful -- does that even need saying?

Why does O'Brien feel so strongly about not giving the guy to the Cardassians? Has Chain of Command happened already?

Ooh, is this the encounter with the Duras sisters that will be referenced in TNG season 7, or are they going to visit DS9 again?

"Klingons have an odd sense of style, don't you agree?" -- Nah, only those two.

Drinking game: a shot every time Garak says the word "simple".

I didn't expect the show's second story to be so good!

A Man Alone

...Is every episode going to open with a scene where an older person on whom Bashir crushed within five seconds of their screentime is standing behind him and touching his shoulders?

I'm confused again, isn't the O'Brien kid a bit too old?

"Killing your own clone is still murder" -- Was this episode deliberately written as a fuck-you to Up the Long Ladder, or is it just a lucky coincidence?

Babel

What a beautiful script lol

Why aren't they at least trying to build a linguistic database? That was my first idea...

Captive Pursuit

"I'm not a barkeep" Well now I want an AU with Quark as Mrs Hudson...

"They've reversed the polarity of our shields" Sorry I just cannot take this phrase seriously...

Oh ffs, not the Prime Directive again!

Wow, this show really likes O'Brien...

Q-Less

I love the guest appearances from TNG characters! It really helps to establish the show as part of the same continuity.

Q and Vash's Doctor-companion dynamic gives me life.

Oh no, the Ferengi handjobs are back, I was wondering when it would happen...

"I like your new tailor" I thought Q meant Garak, not the change in Starfleet uniforms...

"But it's not going to be the same without you. When I look at a gas nebula, all I see is a cloud of dust. Seeing the universe through your eyes, I was able to experience wonder." I'M DYING THIS IS LITERALLY THE DOCTOR'S LINE

Dax

I was looking forward to this one! But I didn't expect the "how Trills actually work, let's forget about The Host" story to be presented as a courtroom episode, that's pretty clever.

Ah, of course whenever they talk about Dax's past relationship with a woman, they switch to third person and male pronouns -_-

I thought the wife was the murderer.

The Passenger

God, don't they have filters or oxygen masks or anything like that? 

Yoo, a possession episode! This is endearing: TNG season one sometimes felt like revisiting TOS stories with a new cast, this season does the same to TNG.

Move Along Home

Does a fourteen year old really need a strict bedtime?

Kidnapping people is easy with transporter technology -- but how does one change their victims' clothes in the process?!

Quark's breakdown was unexpected; I suppose there'll be a follow-up on that?

The Nagus

Jake and Nog's friendship is very heartwarming.

Vortex

I'm glad to learn more about Odo, but wasn't this episode kinda cheesy?

Battle Lines

Yess, more Kira drama

Let me make a guess: this will be important in the season finale?

The Storyteller

You know that post "Have you ever accidentally befriended someone who was extremely annoying"? It needs to be on a screenshot of O'Brien and Bashir from this episode.

Progress

Kira's subplot is like an unholy hybrid between The Survivors, Ensigns of Command/Journey's End, and Preemptive Strike. Plus, that guy looks like Hannibal Lector.

Jake and Nog's subplot is giving me a bit too much secondhand embarrassment.

"I'm going to tell Minister Toran that she's remained temporarily on Jeraddo at your request" "But sir, that isn't true" "Make it true, Doctor. Now, please" lmao Sisko's methods are... interesting.

He gave a good speech to Kira in the next scene, too.

I'm glad it worked out well for the kids :D I kind of expected the two plots to tie together at the end -- like the old man settling on the piece of land they bought.

If Wishes Were Horses

"Waste of time. Too many people dream of places they'll never go, wish for things they'll never have, instead of paying adequate attention to their real lives." Are you calling all of your viewers out, Odo?

A bit too much technobabble, but funny! I thought this would be not just about imagination, but about youth. The imaginary characters are conjured up by a three year old, a fourteen year old, and by Julian whose immaturity is even commented upon in the cold open.

The Forsaken

Oh... oh my god... it's her

Why is her hair pink, anyway

O'Brien's talking to the computer right after opening credits, just after Majel Barrett's name appeared on screen -- are they doing this on purpose?

this orange hair is even worse

"You are the thin beige line between order and chaos" I'm dying what kind of compliment is this

Odo's grumpiness re: humanoid mating rituals is beautiful

"Every 16 hours I turn into a liquid" "I can swim"

Hello fanfic trope :D

Yes, Odo, I was making the same faces during the episode she's recalling

"Do you hear it?" "Hear what?" The voice" ARE THEY REALLY DOING THIS

"Like a baby" I'd say, more like Lwaxana

"It came here when we downloaded the probe's files. If we upload those same files back to the probe, it might go with them" That's... not how it works...

Universal acceptance is a lovely and very plausible other side of the coin to Lwaxana's eccentricity and odd taste. I've grown to appreciate that. She's always so obnoxious at the beginning of the episode, I completely forget about her sensitive side and she manages to surprise me every time.

wait, so she's been canonically wearing wigs in all those TNG episodes?

Dramatis Personae

Wait, is the infirmary right across the corridor from Quark's bar?

Bashir is acting very strangely

Alright, the question is "who isn't acting strangely"

Is Kira trying to flirt with Dax?

Bashir really won the temporary personality lottery. Everyone else became unlikeable and he just Lives For The Drama. I mean, more than usual...

Will Odo often play this role of the only one unaffected by a disease, like Data did? But unlike Data, he can also manipulate people. I'm only now starting to appreciate that he actually is a "Constable". Very refreshing to see a security officer who's allowed to be smart.

Duet

Oooh, finally it's time for the Bajoran-Cardassian drama again!

The plot twist makes this episode remind me of The Defector even more... And I think it cheapens the conflict; what to do with a bureaucrat who hasn't personally committed atrocities is a difficult and morally grey area -- not so much if it's the Big Bad responsible for everything and proud of it

Alright, he's too hammy, is there another twist coming?

Nice, Dukat is getting nervous, that's a good sign. I love Odo the detective

Okay, but even under his real identity, wouldn't, like, a very public trial and broadcasting his story everywhere have some effect?

I... don't really like how this episode ends on a "Not all Cardassians / Some Bajorans are just prejudiced". Still, it's the strongest story in the season.

In the Hands of the Prophets

Ughhh religious fundamentalists...

Have I mentioned how uncomfortable it is that on this show people's ears are often grabbed with completely different connotations?

Oh god I'm just seething this is too real

The murder mystery is interesting!

I hate her so much

Call! Odo!! Or! Sisko!! Preferably both!!!

General impressions:

A surprisingly even season. There are no outright failures (unlike TNG's first and last seasons -- hell, probably unlike any TNG season) but it's rarely remarkable.

The interior and costume design is quite ugly, sorry to say.

It took me several episodes to adjust after the glorious remastered HD of TNG. Please remaster this show too!

Best character for dramatic scenes: Kira

Best character for lighthearted scenes: Bashir

Most underused character: Dax

Best duo: Odo and Quark (okay, there's not much competition so far, I just wanted them to have their own category)

If O'Brien is such a super engineering pro, why did he spend all these years on the Enterprise manning the transporter instead of being Geordi's right hand man or something?

I don't know what I think of Sisko yet. But I like him more than Picard in his first season.

[ilakumar-blog1]

A New Style of Immigrant Story

When my grandmother, my father’s mother, died in January of 2014, in Bihar, I was here in New York. My father was on the next plane to India. I remember the night, he walked down the stairs that evening, slower than usual. He told us that he was going to India because she was unwell. And he felt he should be there. And that night, I was ten years old, barefoot on the kitchen floor completely uninterested in commiserating with my father. A child’s first exposure to death is a tragically hopeless and confusing time. And in the case of my grandmother, she wasn’t dead yet. It was a matter of jet fuel which determined whether my father would be with his mother, his hand in hers, when she died. He knew this, and I did too.

By the time my father had packed his shaving kit, clothes and notebook, I should have been asleep. I was brushing the curls, which I get from my dad, out of my hair. From my bedroom window I saw him climb into the taxi. Needing somewhere else to focus my energies, I then, baked a cake. I labored over it, for like three hours. Carefully, I piped small pink flowers placing one of those pearly sprinkles in the middles. This cake served as my nagging problem through the night. It was this perfectly vanilla cake, a simple or impossible task, to which my mind insanely clinged to avoid its real trouble. As I tried to move it from the counter to the plate, it crumbled in my hands like clay that’s been under pressure for too long. I began to cry, between the sorrow and guilt the jack-in-the-box inside my skull finally escaped my control and flooded the entire house with tears.

I could not bear to imagine my father, alone in that dark plane. You see, his sisters who were already in India, knew their mother had died. To save their brother from the most uncomfortable and saddest plane ride of his life, they didn’t tell him. It was a cousin, on FaceBook, offering condolences right before he was boarding the plane that really screwed the whole operation. Sixteen hours of torture and despair all suppressed in an illusion of composure for the flight attendants and the man sitting next to him. He might have been flying above the world, his heavy heart must have been the only thing tethering him to the world.

When my grandmother died I realized that I had hardly ever spoken to her. I am realizing, now, if her husband, my grandfather, was to die today, I would still be writing the same sentence. I haven’t learned from my mistakes, I have made no effort to know my grandfather. Nevermind that, my mother, who stayed with us--didn’t tell me or my brother what happened. The idea was that when my father returned, we would all talk. That night, I lay down to sleep. My mother didn’t tell me my grandmother had died, so was it even true? Had it even happened? Maybe she really was alive, breathing the same air as me. My grieving heart did not care for logic.

And my dad and I didn’t talk. When he finally came back home his head was shaved. Curls gone. He brought gifts- toys for my brother, dresses and jewelry, silver coins, a gold statue of a young girl reading a book from his mother’s bedroom. I remember the night he came back, he was jetlagged and I just couldn’t sleep. He came into my bed and I lay in his arms, trying to sync my breathing to his. We lay there, for hours in the dark, neither one of us falling asleep. He spoke once, he asked me if I had any questions, about anything. Of course I did. But I would never ask them.

My father and I didn’t spend evenings in a treehouse talking about boys, he was never my lacrosse coach or whatever most dads are for their daughters. The mornings we share together are silent. I wake up disturbingly early, but he wakes up earlier. The heat is on, the house is warm. Breakfast and tea is waiting for me to finish my mascara. He waits for me. And we leave our warm grey house to stand outside. Just us in the cold. He likes to listen to writer’s almanac and drink his coffee. I don’t like it, but this day, I did. Robert Hayden’s poem, a tired one, my father had read to me so many times, played.

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

My bus hasn’t come yet. We stand in silence as it nears 7am and more and more cars drive by. “It always reminds me of my mother,” he says. “Did I thank her enough?” The bus came. There was a kiss on the forehead and that was it.

I found my answers almost a year later, in London on Christmas day. That sounds misleadingly glamourous. There was a party, everyone was outside in the lavish backyard smoking cigars. I was in an awfully crappy mood. It was the smoke, that really was the cause for my drama. My father does not smoke, as in cigarettes, as in regularly. But the occasional cigar is an attractive idea. It’s a stylish thing-- an accessory, a fetish object, something to help pass the time, a communication tool. It’s selfish, if he only knew it bothered me. But anyway, this night is only relevant because as my father was distracted, outside, doing what he does so perfectly--he left a book inside, on the kitchen counters. It was the mock-up of his forthcoming book of essays, including “Pyre” about his mother’s death.

All I desired was a simple medical diagnosis--but that is not what was given to me. I didn’t want to feel sad, there was no need to, we barely knew each other. And then, I read. It was my grandmother's life, suddenly revealed to me-- her wonderful charitable life, and then what happens to my father after her life.

I have not yet learned how to properly, live and talk and write about my very peculiar relationship, my limited understanding of where I come from. The drift began at the age of 6, when I became aware of my thick hair and big lips. It was not so much being aware of the large lips, but knowing what they meant--it was a symbol of difference in power, I felt like a clown. What is more, is I had a feeling, not being white, meant I was inferior to the rest of their world and the rest of my life would just be so exhausting.  

I can cannot help that those inaccurate portraits of Indians on TV make me sick, I cannot help the bitterness I feel whenever I stumble upon the inescapable stereotypes these shows have burned in our brains. I need you to understand, the images of the Indian in America have impacted my early life in such an influential and very dangerous way. At least, I now know why I have made no progress in accepting my public identity, and why one should not serve, or give into national taste. What has ruined me, is the most subtle form of oppression-- how one thinks about itself.

The story of an immigrant child in this country could be written a million times better and sadder and more eloquently. But that’s not the point and I don’t care. My fight for a seat at the table was based on how fast I could look or become like the table. Yet, I remain trapped and despised within this republic--and my situation is unique because I have not been kept in bondage for three hundred years. I have only been held together by my future, unwilling to accept my past. I have drowned in my past. As it was deemed unfashionable, so I hoped it cracked and crumbled under the pressures of drought.

No one is in the position to tell me that my only problem, Indian people on TV, is not a valid complaint. It’s a recipe for murder, really. I know mostly only white people, they have no intention to exploit me, and I love them for that. But their own glorification, their place in the sun and on the screen--has forced me to endure a great deal of pain and festor some anger and jealousy. These shows had told me I had a very specific place, socially. My dignity was just a character to the very ill people creating the illusions on of the screen. Of course, the sick illusions do not stay on the screen. The accents, of course, follow one around. The goal, is to separate yourself from that. And perhaps I have made a mistake, because in my separation of “Indian in America” I look back, as a stranger to “Indian.”

My mother is Muslim, my dad is Hindu. They got married when their two countries, India and Pakistan were fighting a war. Ila is a Hindu name; it is the opposite of my mother's last name, Ali (a Muslim name) Ila Ali. It forms a palindrome. It mirrors my mother’s, yet keeps its difference.

My father had written about the marriage between a Muslim and Hindu, and got himself on a hit-list. Far-right India was not happy about his news. But still he went to meet the man who put him on the hit-list, for lunch.

And what is worse, is it was the death of my grandmother that had brought me back to where I had started. No one told me she died. It was a text I saw on my mother’s phone, from a cousin, offering condolences. Really, it was my father’s essay, “Pyre” that I only saw because of the liking Franzen took towards it, gave me the scraps of information of her death. What is interesting, is his own drifting from what used to be his world.

“I left India nearly three decades ago, and would see my mother only for a few days each year during my visits to Patna. Over the past ten or fifteen years, her health had been declining. She suffered from arthritis and the medicines she took for it had side effects, and sometimes my phone rang with news that she’d fallen asleep in the bathroom or had a seizure on the morning after she had fasted during a festival. I knew that one day the news would be worse and I would be asked to come to Patna. I was fifty years old and had never before attended a funeral. I didn’t know what was more surprising, that some of the rituals were new to me, or that they were exactly as I had imagined. That my mother’s corpse had been dressed as a bride was new and disconcerting, and I’d have preferred a plainer look; on the other hand, the body placed on the bamboo bier, its canopy covered with an orange sheet of cotton, was a familiar daily sight on the streets of my childhood. In my notebook that night I noted that my contribution to the funeral had been limited to lighting my mother’s funeral pyre. In more ways than one, the rituals of death had reminded me that I was an outsider.”

In my school, we have been learning about India. Do you remember, in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, the chilled monkey brain for dessert? That desire to exploit other worlds using film, again, is not only in TV but documentaries too. The supposedly “accurate” or perfectly innocent or good and straight parallels that are supposedly drawn in documentaries-- they are a false and biased  look into the lives of others. Lives, that colonial powers have no place in, yet they do. I blame film, which is the most was the influential weapon old colonial power has, for my drift with India. That is my confession of to desire to be in that burning house seated at the broken table.