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thran-duils · 3 years ago

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Total Eclipse (P.3)

Title: Total Eclipse (Part Three) Summary: Fem!Reader x Sherlock Holmes (RDJ). Sherlock had an impression on the reader from a formative age but he was always so busy running with cases. Their moments of passions were coveted between the two but they were few and far between. He left with Watson on a case and in that time, her parents found her a suitable man to give her to. Wealthy and accomplished. Sherlock and her have not been able to let go of each other though. Words: 5,365 Warnings (for the whole fic): Angst, infidelity, smut, swearing, substance abuse, non liner storyline, character death, 18+ as always Author’s Note: This whole chapter is backstory, hence why it’s all italics. I got really carried away, my b. The next chapter will resume current time and the plot will move on there. Heavy angst this chapter and smut!

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Your family left you in London when they went back to the country estate after the season had ended. Your mother was hell bent on finding you a suitor and even in the off season, she wanted you in sights on the streets, at cafes, restaurants. She wanted you out of the house too, one less mouth to feed. Your family was well off enough, but she was growing more embarrassed about an imagined slight against her of you not marrying off younger. As if your martial problems were a reflection on her…. But that is what society saw it as and it was how she reacted.

Despite the passive aggressive hostility between the two of you, this was going to be a blessing. Your great aunt retired early in the night, and you were given more freedom. Not to mention your great aunt was far more progressive in her views. It was shocking to you in the first place your mother allowed you to stay with her at all without supervision, but you kept your lips sealed. You were not going to pass this up.

Standing beside your aunt outside the florist shop where she was examining the seeds for her spring garden to plant this fall, you listened dully to Emily, the florist, tell her the layout to have them planted for the best coloring. You felt the uncomfortable feeling of someone watching you. Turning nonchalantly, your eyes scanned the square lazily. You spotted a man across the square with curly hair and a large, overgrown mustache. You furrowed your brow if only for a moment at his blatant staring.

Tearing your eyes away from him to not invite conversation or any indication you were interested, you looked back to your aunt still speaking with the florist.

“Love, would you go across the square to get me a bun? It is driving me insane to smell them fresh,” your aunt told you, touching your arm gently. “And get one for Emily too.”

The last thing you wanted to do was walk away from her and have this man approach you, but you nodded. You made sure to not look in his direction as you walked across the cobblestone towards the bakery. Out of your peripherals, you caught movement in his general direction, and you scowled. You hated brushing off advances, but it seemed you were going to have to do it. He was certainly following you.

Walking into the bakery, you waited patiently while the baker helped the two people already ahead of you.

The air shifted at your back and you closed your eyes, readying for the drawling of a desperate man.

“So, you were left behind.”

The whisper caused you to burst your eyelids open and you turned halfway to face the man. You found it was the man with the large mustache but that was certainly Sherlock’s voice. You scanned his face and realized immediately you recognized his eyes.

Stammering, you asked, “W-what are you doing?”

“Is there a problem, miss?” one of the men who had been being assisted asked, stopping when he saw your state.

You recovered quickly and straightened. “No, no, sir. Sorry. I was just startled by my acquaintance. I did not expect to see him out and about… like this. I apologize.”

The man nodded and walked on, leaving you to narrow your eyes at Sherlock.

“Give me a minute,” you told him before turning back and walking up to the counter. You ordered your buns, adding a fourth, before coming back to him waiting. He gave you a curt nod gesturing towards the door.

As soon as you were outside, you stepped off to the side, out of sight from the window of the bakery.

“What are you doing? What is this? Are you alright?” you asked, throwing all these questions at him in a hushed voice. You held out the fourth bun to him and he eyed it before taking it.

“Much obliged. I haven’t had breakfast,” he told you. He touched at his mustache and said thoughtfully, “Although, I will have to save it. This will make it difficult to eat.”

“It makes you difficult to recognize!”

“That is the point of a disguise, Miss Y/N.”

“Why are you wearing a disguise at all?”

“Well, I can’t just be myself all the time following you can I? That would be suspicious. Especially if your escort continued catching sight of me.”

“And following me in a disguise does not scream ‘stalker’ to you?”

Sherlock looked taken aback. “’Stalker’?”

“Is that not what you’re doing?”

Sniffing, he said, “I was merely checking up on you. I hardly would refer to that as stalking.”

“How did you know I was staying with my great aunt then and not at my family’s home?” Sherlock was silent and you intoned, “That’s what I thought.”

“Well, I was going to invite you to a play but now I am having second thoughts.”

Your eyes lit at this, and you said, “What play?”

“I said I was having second thoughts.”

“Well, maybe I’m having second thoughts about getting you a bun,” you retorted, immediately holding out your hand for him to return it.

He frowned and held it tighter, causing you to smirk.

“You would need to sneak away from dinner tonight.”

“I’m going out to Sweetings with my aunt.”

“Makes it more difficult. What if I told you the play was tonight, and you could use that as an excuse? A date with a gentlemen?”

All it took was him walking you back to outside the florists shop and the two of you exchanging pleasantries, him inviting you to dinner, you telling him you would have to check and that you would send word. Of course, your aunt did not know he had given a fake address. She was questioning of his name you gave but she did not pry too deeply.

<><><>

Seeing Sherlock was again not looking at the stage, instead his eyes wandering around the theater, you leaned over, lips close to his ear.

“You’re distracted,” you whispered.

He turned his head and now your noses were almost touching. Your lips parted, eyes locked with his. He swallowed sharply, blinking.

“That I am,” he responded, flustered before pulling away much to your disappointment.

He grasped your hand, “Come with me.”

You almost protested as he pulled you from your seat. It was terribly rude to leave in the middle of a play, not only towards the actors and actresses but the people you were having to walk by. Sherlock did not seem to care though.

A man was following the two of you up the aisle and out the doors. When he started following the pair of you up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall, keeping distance though, you cleared your throat.

“Sherlock, I think we have a tail,” you whispered out the corner of your mouth, keeping stride with him.

“I’m aware,” he returned quietly. Louder in his normal voice, he asked, “Love, do you need to use the lavatory?”

“No?” you hissed at him, confounded.

He shot you a look and you took the hint, nodding. “Yes.”

Sherlock took a sharp left with you down the hall. “Well, let’s find them for you. I’ll wait here.”

He egged you on with an encouraging hand at your waist. You did what he asked to continue down the hall, your heart beating. He pointed at a door and gesture for you to go inside. As the door closed behind you, you were thinking wildly about what was going on? Did he even have a plan?

“You shouldn’t be here,” an unfamiliar voice said from down the hall back where Sherlock was standing. Your ear was pressed up against the door.

“And your employer shouldn’t have taken what he did. It has been quite the goose chase figuring out where the piece was.”

“Where’s your lovely friend?”

“Went on to find the lavatory.”

Suddenly you heard a loud grunt and a crash. There was scuffling outside, and you pressed your hands against the door, debating if you should open the door or not. What if he was getting hurt?

The noise stopped and all you heard was your pounding heart.

Until to your immense relief, you heard Sherlock said, “Took you long enough. Were you too caught up in the show?”

You barely got out of the way before the door was opening, Sherlock thrusting it open. You stumbled a little as you flung yourself backwards and he reached in quick, steadying you. There was not a mark on him.

He pulled you from the room and you were faced with the man that had been pursuing the two of you, slumped against the wall. And another man standing there, pushing his hair back into place to look presentable again.

“Watson saved the day,” Sherlock told you, giving you a grin. “Flatmate that I mentioned. He can be helpful at times.”

“Holmes,” Watson said exasperated.

“’Holmes’?” you questioned, smiling slyly at Sherlock.

He looked entirely displeased at you before he shot Watson an annoyed look.

“Yes, John?”

Oh… he was getting back at John Watson then for exposing him as either Holmes Sherlock or Sherlock Holmes. You believed the latter sounded more plausible.

Realization dawned on you then.

“Hey, I’ve heard of you!” you said in an excited whisper and your breath caught when he jerked you towards him.

“Darling, we must be quiet now. Watson caused some ruckus out here,” he informed you. That was until it registered to him what you said, and he cocked his head. He leaned in, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, and whispered, “Heard of me where?”

“The newspapers!”

“What newspapers?”

“Where you solved a case with Scotland Yard! You hid your face—”

“I always hide my face.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were an investigator?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t say investigator—"

“Holmes, we do not have time for this,” John cut in impatiently in a harsh whisper, catching both of your attention.

“Right,” Sherlock answered, looping arms with you, cutting your conversation off. That was intimate, it was unproper for men to do this for women they were not engaged, married, or related to.

Watson led you back down the hall towards the main drag. He was cordial to the passing workers who were fetching refreshments for the people in their boxes. He led the two of you up another flight of stairs to the third floor.

Sherlock leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Now, dear, there might be some more violence. I may have to shove you in another closet.”

“Or I can stay out here.” Sherlock looked at you surprised, and you told him. “I can be useful.”

Suddenly, he pushed you up against the wall as loud applause erupted, putting a hand up to block your face. John was beside the two of you now, further blocking you from seeing down the hall.

“He’s leaving the box. It must be in between acts. It has to be happening now. Now, there is that room at the end of the hallway. Is he heading there?” John said in hushed tones to Sherlock.

Sherlock peeked around Watson’s shoulder, eyes searching. “He’s going to the room. He’s got two men with him. Broad. Should be a good time. You’ve needed that jacket mended on the hem for quite some time though, so perhaps it’ll serve well to have it fully needing to be tossed out.”

Watson looked completely unamused at Sherlock’s comment directed at him.

To you now, Sherlock implored, “Seriously, Miss Y/N, I would encourage you to heed my advice and stay out here. It should not take too long for Watson and I to retrieve what we need to.”

Sighing disappointed, you told him, “Fine. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

Sherlock smirked, “That would be incredibly rude of me considering I need to escort you home.”

“It would,” you agreed, and he pulled away from you.

Watson was watching the two of you closely, looking interested.

They left you.

The minutes dragged on after they disappeared into the room. People were milling about in the hall, waiters offering drink. You meandered closer to the door, curious about what exactly it was that Sherlock was retrieving.

Suddenly, the door burst open, two figures coming tumbling out. People yelled in alarm, the crowd dispersing as they jumped back up to your feet. You recognized Sherlock immediately as one of them. He had blood on his cheek and he was disheveled. They came at each other again and tangled up, throwing punches. He was tossed back towards the door.

Looking around wildly, you spotted a large bottle of vodka on one of the waiter carts and grabbed it. Before the man could advance again, you brought it across the back of his head, the glass shattering and the vodka spilling all over the man’s clothes. But he was knocked out, his knees buckling beneath him and falling to the floor.

Sherlock was back on his feet, looking at you in shock for just a moment before he came forward in a rush, grabbing your arm. “Quickly now,” he told you breathless. “We haven’t much time until the authorities show up!”

In awe at what you had done, you let him drag you along.

“Where is Watson?”

“He’ll be along shortly.”

The two of you were out of the theater and out onto the street. You were stumbling trying to keep up with his fast pace. He led you a few blocks down before turning the corner into an alley. That was when he finally began to slow down.

“What happened?” you demanded after you caught your bearings.

“More than the two men that went in there with our target. Things got a little tricky.”

You took your glove off and used it to wipe at his cheek. He winced and he commented, “You’re ruining your gloves.”

“Your face is bleeding!” you protested. You saw the blood was originating from a rather large cut.

“Hardly noticed,” Sherlock responded. He cocked his head and said, “You certainly made that other man bleed with that bottle.”

“I told you I could be useful.”

“It seems that is so…”

You had cleaned up most of his face. There was nothing to do about his hair but that was no matter.

The further you were from the theater, the more you realized what exactly had happened, your excitement thrumming beneath your skin was switching from shock to thrill. You had been in a fight. There had been henchmen. Sherlock was a detective and had taken you along on one of his cases. Which raised the question.

“Why did you bring me along?” you demanded. “Did you know it would be this dangerous?”

“I needed a date for entrance. And one I believed I could trust. As for danger, it is usually lurking around every corner, so of course I anticipated it. But, the degree is always in question.”

“Trust? You barely know me. Also, Watson didn’t have a date?”

Sherlock pointedly ignored the last point you made, “I’m good at reading people. And you proved I could trust you, especially in a fight. Plus, you said you wanted adventure.” He tilted his head towards you, asking sincerely, “Tell me, how am I doing providing that for you?”

You yanked him to you by the lapels of his coat, your lips crashing together. He was stunned as you pulled away.

“That was so exciting!” you said, caught up in your emotion.

Someone cleared their throat. Watson was standing there further down the alley. Sherlock hands came up to yours still grasping his lapels and he pulled your hands away. His thumb caressed the hand further away from Watson, concealing the touch, before he let you go.

“Right, well, we’ve retrieved the stolen items. That’s what we came here to do, correct?” Sherlock asked, reaching into his coat, pulling out an extravagant necklace and earring set. “Shall we move further away from the scene of the crime? Preferably to make sure Miss Y/N gets home safely.”

He barely saw Watson move towards the pair of you before he looped arms with you again and began walking. The trio of you caught a Hansom cab to return you home. On the trip, you offered Watson your other glove and said, “Sherlock’s already bloodied the other one. They might as well match.”

Watson actually chuckled at that and took it from you gratefully, wiping at the cut on his forehead. You caught Sherlock was amused by your comment and you sent him a quick, close lipped smile before pointing out to Watson he had missed a spot.

When the carriage pulled up outside, you looked at Sherlock and said, “However will I contact you if you do not give me an address?”

“Bold of you to ask for a man’s address,” Sherlock commented.

“You’ve been using that adjective to describe me since the moment we met. And I’m merely asking in case I need a date somewhere and need one for entrance,” you said, turning his words back to him.

Sherlock’s eyes crinkled and he said, “Touche.” He leaned out the window, “The lady is getting out. After she does, 221B Baker Street.”

You opened the door yourself and got out before either of them could react. You turned back to the door and said, “Expect a letter then. Pleasure to meet you, John. Thank you for the invigorating night, Sherlock. I surely will not forget it.”

With that you closed the door, and turned, leaving them.

Inside the cab, Watson looked across at Sherlock who was watching Y/N go through the gate and up the stairs as the carriage took off again. Sherlock felt Watson staring and turned his head back when Y/N was out of sight.

“Wherever did you meet her, Sherlock? And how long has this been going on?”

<><><>

There were small get togethers still held in the off season, especially underground, and you had sent Sherlock a note, letting him know you would be at it, extending an invitation. You were on the minds of the hosts as one not to report debauchery, which is what this party consist of. And through them, you had secured that invite for Sherlock on your word he would not speak of what transpired there either.

You were accompanied by three girls younger than you, who were eager to meet some of the men attending. They cared not you were a tad older, actually were relying on you to give them guidance. They knew you were not a virgin and one confided to you she was not either. Your advice to them was to stay away from Lord Timothy and Mister Wilhelm… they both carried disease. The girls had giggled at first before they realized you were serious. You had been warned yourself by someone older than you during your first season.

You found yourself wandering through this party, keeping an eye out. He had responded he would attend. It would be the first time you would see him since Watson and him had dropped you off at your aunt’s after that night at the theater. It had been over a week.

There were card games going on, women sitting in men’s laps, libations and drugs passed around freely.

“My, my, a woman without thick or long sleeves and baring shoulder,” you heard him comment from behind you. Turning, he was standing, hands clasped behind his back. “You’re barely wearing anything at all… what would your mother say?”

“Barely wearing anything?” you repeated, coming to him. “I have a dress on!”

“But it is improper. The scandal!” Sherlock commented dramatically.

“You don’t approve?”

“I prefer it. Your skin is beautiful.”

That was the first time he had commented on anything other than your clothing and your heart jumped. You kept your bearings though.

Cocking an eyebrow, you asked, “Sir, I thought you said it was inappropriate to comment on features. You are so indecent!”

“Yet, you’re still standing here with me.”

“That I am… How satisfied you must be.”

“Quite.” His eyes were alight.

You shook your head, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Well, are you going to offer to find us drinks?”

Offering his arm, you took it, allowing him to take you towards a table where one of the servers would come by to take an order. The two of you spent the next couple hours drinking and speaking in hushed tones about his work and what was going on with you and he even engaged in politics with you. Throughout the conversation, you had gotten closer to him in the booth, your bodies almost touching.

“You’re here with others…” he commented out of the blue. You confirmed you were and he asked, “Do they need you here?”

“Why?”

Sherlock’s eyes ran over the room quickly before he said, “I am growing tired of the crowd. You could sneak away with me? I have a carriage waiting outside and there is a vintage bottle of brandy at my residence.”

He was… inviting you back to his place? You would be lying if you said you had not been living that kiss over and over again.

Coy, you asked, “That seems a long time to ‘sneak away’.”

“Well, then you could go tell them you are not feeling well. I could pretend you spilled on me, offer to take you home…” he made a face and said. “Honestly, I could handle you even geting sick on me cause I packed a second waist coat.”

Laughing, you asked, “Did you plan this?”

“What would your reaction be if I did?” He examined you closely. He grunted lightly as you came close, your body flush against his. He looked at you in interest. “Forward as ever, are we?”

You slapped his chest and he grinned, taking that as a yes.

<><><>

“This is your place?”

“Well, I rent this room specifically. Watson has another,” Sherlock answered, tossing his coat on the back of a chair. His vest followed suit, leaving him in his dress shirt and suspenders. “You are not shocked by how unorganized I am?”

“There is a lot of things to look at,” you said honestly, picking up a leaf and touching the soil. “You could certainly water more though. That I will judge.”

“You’re quite mouthy.” You heard him popping the cork out of the brandy he had mentioned. “Especially for being the guest.”

“Are you complaining?” you questioned, throwing a look over your shoulder, watching him pour the pair of you small glasses. You were unsure you would be able to handle another drink; you were already buzzed, and you did not want to be too drunk for what you were expecting to come. You wandered further into the room, finding his bed.

You noticed the light film of dust across the pillow you were closest to. “Where do you even sleep? Do you ever sleep?” Running your finger across it, you rose your brows. You flicked the small dust gathering from your finger.

“Yes. But not there.” He was closer now, holding both glasses.

“Well, I hope to change your stance on that,” you said carelessly, tossing the covers back. You grabbed one of the pillows and shook it out before tossing it back.

Sherlock commented, “You are trouble.”

“Am I?” you asked, not looking at him still as you shook out another pillow.

Sherlock was quiet behind you as you began to undress. Your bodice was tossed carelessly to the side and you pulled your skirt over your head, leaving you in your undergarments. You tossed a look over your shoulder, finding him looking at you with rapt attention, his knuckles white on the glasses he was clutching so hard. Your lashes brushed your cheeks as you looked down at your petticoat, releasing it. Your corset and chemise followed, you kicking your heels off.

You turned, facing him, completely nude. You were baring your dignity and your body to him, hoping he would respond in like. He was transfixed and you took that as an invitation to crawl onto his bed, sitting back on your calves. You would be the one to mess it up, get him to sleep in it for the first time in a long time.

He placed the glasses down before turning back to you. He walked forward and you got up onto your knees as he approached. You gestured him closer, and he came to you. You pushed his suspenders off his arms, letting them fall to his sides. Your fingers found the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them, the two of your gazes locked. He let you tear it off, throwing it aside before you went to work on his sacks. His hand gripped your wrist as you went to free him from his slacks and a grin broke out.

You kissed the tip of his nose and asked, “Why are we stalling?”

“I’m just thinking of you getting caught. And your family asking for me to hang—”

You silenced him by shoving your lips to his, and he grunted at the impact. He quickly fell into it though.

Good. You had succeeded in getting him to shut the hell up. If even for a moment. You pushed at his slacks and he got the message, pushing them down himself and kicking them off along with his shoes.

You pulled at him, and he followed you, not wanting to let you go. His dick was growing hard, brushing against your skin as you brought him onto the bed. Lying back, he came in between your legs, hovering over you as the two of you were locked in passionate kisses.

His lips trailed up the inside of your thighs. His lips were soft, yet you shuddered at the brush from the stubble of his beard. He kissed up your stomach again, coming up between your breasts. He found your mouth again, his tongue slipping in.

He sunk into you slowly, and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you took each inch, breathing steadily. His lips peppered your shoulder, before sneaking back up. Sucking roughly at your neck, his teeth drug as he drove into you at a slow, steady pace. Small noises left you as you adjusted to his width.

Sherlock was lustful but he relied on passion rather than rough thrusts. He drove deep, holding you securely.

“On your back,” you rasped, wanting to please him.

He followed your order and you found yourself on top. You took him again, sinking into his length. You rode him, moaning, fingernails digging into his chest. His hands were gripping tight at your thighs and hips, low groans emanating from deep in his throat.

You stared into his eyes as you repeatedly sunk onto him, breathless and full of him.

<><><>

Nervously, you sat down on the bench beside Sherlock. He had sent you a note, somehow getting it into your bedroom without anyone in the house noticing. He had been away on a case and during that time, your hand had been forced finally. He looked bleak.

“I saw you are engaged.” He sniffed indignantly, looking out over the water. So, that is how he was going to greet you, cut right to the chase.

“You had time to be the name opposite of mine in that announcement.”

The two of you had been sneaking around either to meet each other for midnight trysts or accompanying him for over a year and a half. And during that time, you had convinced your mother to let you stay at your aunt’s, which granted you the freedom to do so.

He looked piqued. “I told you I was not ready. And I told you I would not be suitable for your parents. You needed to allow me to assist you in finding fortune to raise funds for yourself before moving out.”

“I was caught sneaking out with you.” He looked at you stunned, and you said, “Yes. Our time at The Everlade. Right before you went on this last case. I walked back inside the back door and my aunt was waiting there. There had been too many late nights and the staff had gossiped to her. It was the last straw… I was cornered and I was accused of sleeping around and I didn’t get out to or send you a note to tell you before you left.” He was silent still and you said, “I didn’t give your name up if that is what you are worried about.”

“Of course that’s not what I’m worried about,” Sherlock scoffed immediately.

“I had to choose between my great aunt telling my parents I had been sleeping with someone or behave and take the proposal she had been offered on my behalf.” You noticed the look on his face and sighed heavily. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sherlock. I had no choice! And did you expect me to become a spinster?”

“I am years your senior and I’m still single,” he argued.

“You’re also a man.”

“You evaded it — marriage, the dredges — for years.”

“I did. At the whim of my parents! I cannot get a place on my own. And if word got around that I was being… loose,” Sherlock bristled at the term because sleeping with one man was not being loose but outside of traditional marriage – something he did not abide by which influenced his feelings on the matter – you were as good as a harlot. And that is what society believed so it was what you had to play by. “I would have been ruined.”

Sherlock huffed.

“It’s true and you know it! I was stuck under their roof! All that time. And we had something, something great. And then I got stuck under that proposal!”

“You could have moved in with me.”

“Oh? To a place with two men? That’s what I could’ve done? That would have looked savory, Sherlock! So then not only would it have been one man I was sleeping with, it would have been two!”

“There’s an attic!”

“You wanted me in the attic?”

“Of course not!” Sherlock snapped sourly. “But it would have been the convenient excuse.”

“Except for your house maid.”

Sherlock scowled at the mention of Mrs. Hudson.

You turned to face him more fully and for the first time he looked at you completely. “Propose to me.” He was stoic and you reached for his hand. “If I had another proposal—"

Sherlock pulled his hand away and you felt a deep pang of hurt. He was gruff when he said, “Your parents won’t accept it. I know who Arthur Cole is. Read up on him. He is drowning in his lineage’s fortune.”

Of course, he was right. They had been overjoyed at the proposal, knowing not only that you would be set financially but they would benefit from it as well.

Your voice was meek when you agreed, “No… they won’t.”

“Then it’s settled then. I knew how this would end.” He cleared his throat and you saw his eyes were wet and your own were following suit, devastated at what was happening. He could not even look at you when he said, his voice barely above shaking, “It does not make it hurt any less.”

He got up from the bench quickly. “Good day.”

“Sherlock. We do not have to end like this,” you protested, reaching for him again but he was out of your reach. You got up now and pleaded, “I do not want to not see you.” He continued walking off and you followed a few steps, trying again. “Sherlock, please!”

You were only met with silence and your feet came to a stop. It would not look good for you to be running after him, especially now since that word could get back to your fiancé. So, your breath shuddered, watching him walk further and further down the path, leaving you behind.

~~~

Fic tags: @undecidedsworld @mcnegan

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes rdj #rdj sherlock holmes #my shit

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dkronpa · 5 years ago

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Chapter 3: Journey to Despair, Grave Secrets, Grave Lies ~Trial~

//Sorry for the long wait, but this is by far the longest chapter so far. It might be a little confusing but I think it starts to make sense in the latter part of the trial?? Sorry, this was the one case I really didn’t have the clearest plan of what I was doing.

//Hopefully you all still enjoy!

Bold = blue statements

Bold and italics = yellow statements

“Now! Let’s begin with a simple explanation of the class trial! You’re votes will determine the outcome of this, you will debate on a variety of topics regarding the murder and then try to identify ‘whodunit’. If you can correctly guess the culprit, then the culprit alone will be punished…but if you guess the wrong one. I’ll punish everyone besides the culprit! Hmm…the victim this time was a pretty big hotshot, huh? Pretty sad we lost such a big celeb. Our ratings are gonna go down for sure.”

“Doubtful.” Sly-san said.

“Indeed. I doubt Shinko-sama was the popular type.” Ishikawa-san said.

“Geez, so much for having respect for the dead.” Kurohiko-san frowned, “Uh…I’m gonna be honest. Even after investigating, I don’t really know what to think about all this. I feel like the more I learned, the more confused I got.”

“So, it wasn’t just me then.” Asano-san sighed. “Despite my best efforts, my evidence doesn’t add to anything…”

“Then…let’s discuss…the location? Just to get the discussion going.” Ishikawa-san suggested. “It’s a mystery as to why the murder occurred in the history building. Shinko-sama was locking himself up in his room, so how could the killer manage to get him to the building?”

…Shinko-san was careful. There was no way the killer could have easily lured him out…but then why was he at the history building…?

-Non-stop Debate (1)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets:

ElectroID Entrance/Tampered Card Reader

Crashing Noise/Silent Night

Blank Motive Card/Filled in Motive Card

Tsukiko: Shinko-sama kept himself locked up in his room and wouldn’t see anybody. So, pray tell, why was he in the history building?

Amaterasu: He probably just went by himself and got ambushed by the killer.

Karma: Oh! Oh! Maybe the killer ambushed Toson beforehand…then they could have dragged him there whilst he was unconscious!

Yuuki: I feel like there’s more problems with that situation. But, oh well.

Ryuu: (Let’s figure this out first…I’m sure there’s evidence to disprove one of these theories.)

No, that’s wrong!

“Graves-san, I don’t think Shinko-san was unconscious like you said he was. I got a copy of the card reader’s log and it said that on the night of the murder, Shinko-san used his handbook to enter the history building. So, he must have been conscious at that time…wait.” Why did I have this weird feeling?

“Nagata-sama? Is something wrong with that deduction? I saw nothing wrong with the logic.” Ishikawa-san said.

No…there is something wrong about that…is there not something else that might disprove that? “U-um…sorry, I might be wrong…I think? I dunno.”

“H-huh? Nagata-kun’s confused?” Kirishima-san frowned, “And right off the bat too…?”

Evidence that contradicts what I just said…?

Here’s my proof!

“Yokozawa-san, you remember that rag that was in the storage room…?”

“Yeah, you picked it up and nearly passed out, from the looks of it…ah! You think…?” Yokozawa-san’s eyes widened slowly.

“That rag might have been used to cause Shinko-san to pass out. After that, the killer could simply take his body all the way over to the history building. If the substance on that rag was something like chloroform or something similar…yeah, I think that makes sense-“

That doesn’t add up!

“Ah, contradictory evidence is waaay annoying! But I think its way more plausible that Shinko-san walked to the history building by himself. After all, that rag could’ve been planted later.” Kurohiko-san interjected.

“So, you’re taking that stance, huh…?” I’ll have to argue this. This theory seems a lot more plausible in my eyes, so I just need to show Kurohiko-san why.

-Rebuttal Showdown Vs. Doi Kurohiko-

Truth Blades:

Monokuma File 3

Window Frame

Crashing Noise

Drag Marks in the dirt

Loose Bar

Doi: No matter how I look at it, it makes way more sense for Shinko-san to have walked to the history building by himself. I can understand the idea behind him being ambushed in the storage room but transporting his body to the history building from there should have been impossible!

Ryuu: How could they be impossible? Isn’t that a little presumptuous?

Doi: Not at all! Shinko-san is a pretty in-shape guy. He would’ve been too heavy for anyone to carry all that distance. Plus the issue of the card reader still exists! It said Shinko-san entered, so it must have been Shinko-san! Not to mention that a rag by itself isn’t enough to convince anyone of a theory like that!

Ryuu: (Kurohiko-san has some good points…but there’s more evidence behind my theory!)

I’ll cut through that argument!

“No, it’s not just the rag that points to this happening! Just outside the dormitory building, right before the stone path up to the fountain, there are fresh drag marks in the dirt, as if something heavy was pulled through that spot.”

“Something heavy like Toson-chan, you mean.” Amaterasu-san clarified.

“Ah, really…? But…what about the card reader? It still said Shinko-san…” Kurohiko-san said.

“That’s pretty easily explained. Shinko most likely already had his ElectroID on his person when he went to the storage room. Once he’s knocked out, the killer can just use Shinko’s ElectroID on the card reader themselves.” Sly-san said.

“Wow, great deduction, Sly!” Graves-san cheered.

“Even then, I believe there is more evidence to prove that Shinko-kun did not leave for the history building that night. I can say that for certain after seeing what was in his room.” Asano-san said. Right…in his room was…

Here’s my proof!

“There were some plates of untouched food in Shinko-san’s room. It’s likely that Shinko-kun was getting ready to eat but forgot something from the storage room. When he went back after placing the food in his room, he got ambushed by the killer.”

“I still have a few questions. You say that Shinko-sama was knocked out with chloroform? Where would the killer acquire such a thing? As far as I’m aware, there isn’t anywhere you could get such a substance.” Ishikawa-san said.

Somewhere you could get chloroform…? I think there might have been one place…

Here’s my proof!

“In the history building, there are a number of different exhibits to check out. One of them is called ‘non-murdery murder tools’. Sly-san was telling me about that place and mentioned that it actually houses a number of different chemicals. It’s possible that chloroform is among those chemicals. In fact…knowing Monokuma, it’s almost definite.”

“Ah?! You’re gonna blame me?!” Monokuma covered his mouth in shock.

“He’s right though. I’ve been in that room before, and there was definitely bottles of chloroform in there. Even the chemicals needed to make it yourself if you’re a skilled enough chemist.” Amaterasu-san confirmed.

“The distance might still be an issue. Like, theoretically, I get it. However, getting from the dorms to the history building, and then all the way up to the third floor? And into the iron maiden? That’s gotta be exhausting for anybody.” Kurohiko-san said.

“So, the killer must have been a pretty strong person. Guess Yokozawa and Ram are out.” Sly-san said.

“E-eh!? I’m out that easily?!”

“Harsh.” Yokozawa-san said.

“With that in mind, I’ll just go ahead and say it…Kurosaki’s the killer.” Sly-san said.

“Aaaaand there it is.” Kurosaki-san shrugged to me as if to say ‘told ya!’.

“Y-you’re accusing Kurosaki-kun? On what grounds, exactly?” Asano-san questioned.

“He was in the history building on the night of the murder. I saw him there. It’s not too out of the question to think he’d be the murderer.”

“The records do show that Kurosaki-sama entered the history building that night, however, we already established that the killer ambushed Shinko-sama and dragged his body to the history building and used Shinko-sama’s ElectroID on the card reader.” Ishikawa-san pointed out.

“…what if Toson-chan woke up though?” Amaterasu-san suggested.

“With Shinko’s body type, the amount of chloroform might have not been enough to keep him unconscious the whole time. If he woke up part-way, he might have ran to the history building to take cover.” Sly-san said.

No…no there’s something wrong with that, and it clearly says it in this record.

My logic follows!

“That can’t be right though! In the records, it says that Kurosaki-san entered the history building before Shinko-san’s ElectroID was used.”

“That’s not really too much of a problem to deal with. If Yuuki-chan took Toson-chan’s ElectroID after he ambushed him in the storage room, when Toson-chan woke up, he could have just grabbed whichever ElectroID in a panic.” Amaterasu-san argued. Agh…that’s…true. There’s no way to say that that didn’t happen…

“Stop panicking, Nagata-kyun. I told you that my defence is in your hands.”

“Eh…? The fuck you sayin’ all of a sudden? Don’t go shoving shit onto Nagata.” Okanaya-kun said.

“No, it’s fine…” I really don’t think Kurosaki-san is the killer. I need to find a hole in Sly-san’s theory.

-Non-Stop Debate (2)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Window Frame/No Windows

Exhibit List/Unfinished Exhibits

ElectroID Entrance/Tampered Card Reader

Blood in the library/Shifted Bookshelves

Sly: I’ll say it clearly; Kurosaki is the killer. Not only was he strong enough to have carried Shinko’s body, but he was also in the history building that night.

Amaterasu: When it comes to the card reader…Toson-chan probably woke up…then he panicked when he realised the situation.

Sly: And when he panicked, he stole a random ElectroID off of Kurosaki and fled to the history building, hence the contradiction with the card reader records.

Rina: And if nobody else was in the building…

Sly: The killer had to have been Kurosaki.

Ryuu: (No…this is all wrong. Sly-san must know that I know, so why…?)

No, that’s wrong!

“Actually, there was one more person in the building at the same time the records logged Shinko-san and Kurosaki-san. Sly-san, you also went to the history building that night.”

“So? I already told you that I saw him there, didn’t I…? I saw Kurosaki enter the building.”

“That cannot be right.” Ishikawa-san said, “No…the records said that you entered in between Shinko-sama using Kurosaki-sama’s ElectroID, who was first, and the vice-versa being second.”

“Exactly. If you did see Kurosaki-san enter the history building, it would’ve been when Kurosaki-san’s ElectroID was logged as being used! That means, Shinko-san didn’t take his ElectroID!” What the hell…? Sly-san is being so quiet. It’s not like him to accuse anybody, especially when it’s so easily proven wrong…what gives?

“But…that means that both Kurosaki and Sly were in the building right before Shinko got murdered, right?” Okanaya-kun asked. “What gives with that? What were you two doing…?”

Both of them stayed quiet. Seriously, what is this bad feeling that I’m getting…? Like I’m gonna be sick…

“Could it be…an accomplice?” Ishikawa-san said.

“A-accomplice?” I repeated.

“Allow me to explain. Monokuma informed us on day one that accomplices couldn’t be acquitted of the murder and win the trial, only the person who did the actual killing can…however, with this case, it may have been possible for there to have been two killers.”

“Oh ho~?” Kurosaki-san smirked. “Mademoiselle, you want to accuse both myself and Herr Knives?”

“Imagine this. The two of you manage to lure Shinko-sama to the history building, you work together to drag him to the torture exhibit. If you both opened the iron maiden, both of you threw Shinko-sama inside, and both of you closed it…then both of you would be equally as responsible for his death!”

“Ergo, two culprits.” Sly-san concluded. “You’re delusional.”

“H-hold on, is it even possible for two people to be the culprit?! Monokuma?!” Kirishima-san asked. Monokuma tapped his paw on his chin before speaking.

“It’s not impossible if that scenario took place. After all, if two people really did work together to close the iron maiden door then they would have both violated the rules equally.” Monokuma said. “So, in that scenario…sure! There would be two culprits!”

“But it’s unlikely.” Kurohiko-san said.

“However, the possibility is there, and in the class trial, all possibilities must be explored.” Ishikawa-san argued.

“Fine, I’ll play ball. I’m not the killer.” Sly-san said nonchalantly.

“At least sound like you care, will you?! You could be sentenced to death!” Kurohiko-san yelled.

“Losing my composure here wouldn’t do me any good. I’ll fight your accusation with a level-head and show you all why you’re wrong.”

-Non-Stop Debate (3)-

Truth Bullets/Lie bullets

Iron Maiden/Locked Iron Maiden

Blood in the Library/Shifted Bookshelves

Rag/Clean Rag

Rock Pile/Undisturbed Rocks

Tsukiko: I argue that both Kurosaki-sama and Sly-sama are the killers! If they committed the murder as I said, then they would equally as responsible for Shinko-sama’s death!

Sly: I don’t like Kurosaki enough to work with him on something like this. Not to mention everything you just said is impossible.

Karma: I don’t get what was so impossible. If you killed Toson at the history building, you could plant all the evidence later!

Tsukiko: And with two people, you could fake the drag marks.

Yuuki: What a theory!

Sly: Like I said though, it’s impossible. After all, I was too occupied to have killed Shinko.

Ryuu: (…both of them are hiding something. I don’t know why, but they must be working together…I gotta think of a way to find the truth of why they were at that building…)

I agree with that!

“Sly-san, by ‘occupied’…the night of the murder, did you sustain an injury, by any chance?”

“An injury? Be more specific. I’m an assassin, I’m covered in scars from fights.” Sly-san said.

“An injury that would’ve produced the blood I found in the library. Something like that, perhaps? I was trying to figure out how it all fit in, but…let’s say there was in incident and you got injured somehow…”

I’ll kill your theory!

“You’re an idiot.” Sly-san spat.

“Is that really your whole argument?”

“No incident happened. You’ve got nothing.”

-Rebuttal Showdown Vs. Sly-

Truth Blades:

Blood in the Library

Bloody Book

ElectroID Entrance

Blank Motive Card

Sly: You wanna claim that an incident, but can you prove when that blood in the library appeared? Better yet, can you prove it’s my blood? Kurosaki was allegedly in the building as well, so isn’t it just as possible that he’s the one that got injured doing something stupid, as usual.

Ryuu: You stayed out of the investigation, saying you weren’t feeling up to moving about. If you got injured that night, then it makes sense why.

Sly: Is that so? Maybe I just felt better watching the body…and that blood still doesn’t mean anything. It was the only blood…and it’s got no indication that it couldn’t have happened before the building became available to us.

Ryuu: (There’s definitely a flaw in Sly-san’s argument. I’ll point it out and get to the bottom of this)

I’ll cut through that argument!

“No, it wasn’t the only thing with blood. Underneath one of the tables in the library, there was a bloody book. A hardback book at that.”

“…so what…? You’re saying I got assaulted with that book?” Sly-san raised an eyebrow.

“I think it’s a possibility…if you were hit hard enough with the book, then it could explain the blood traces on the bookshelves.”

“Then you’re also saying that Kurosaki is the one that attacked me, right…? After all, he was the only other person in that room according to your theory.”

“Hmm? Couldn’t it have been the other way about? Maybe Sly-chan hit Yuuki-chan with the book?” Amaterasu-san suggested.

“Nope. I did it.” Kurosaki-san said. Huh…? He’s…

“Y…you’re admitting it?” I asked.

“You’d figure it out eventually, after all, there’s evidence that I was the one who handled that book. The piece of evidence found alongside that blood book…” The evidence alongside it…? That was…

Here’s my proof!

“That book had a motive card inside of it…Kurosaki-san, are you trying to claim that motive card as your own?”

“Indeed. I have an older brother who I care about very much. I’d hate it if anything ever happened to him!” Kurosaki-san smiled. His brother…that’s strange. After all…

My logic follows!

“But…that motive card was blank. How can you say that it was your card whilst claiming you were that close to your brother?”

“Wouldn’t you say it’s more terrifying to have somebody’s name omitted from this motive…?” His expression suddenly darkened. “Before I entered Hope’s Peak, my brother Taro was perfectly fine…so to find that his name wasn’t on the motive card was just about the most haunting thing. I couldn’t help but theorise as to why his name wasn’t on the card…”

“…when we spoke before, you told me you had the most dangerous motive out of everybody…did you mean it like that?” I asked.

“Of course. What’s more terrifying…? One single name on the motive card…or having a blank card when someone you care about should be alive and healthy…?”

“Ahhhh…that is pretty awful! I just don’t have anybody on the outside worth killing for, so I can’t imagine what your situation is like.” Graves-san said.

“B-but…if Kurosaki-kun knocked out Sly-kun. That means he was the only one who was conscious in the building when Shinko-kun was there…d-does that mean…?” Kirishima-san twiddled with her thumbs as she spoke.

“Kurosaki-sama. You killed Shinko-sama!” Ishikawa-san accused.

“Oh~ Hohoho~ apologies, but Herr Shinko’s death had nothing to do with me! That scuffle me and Herr Knives got into just happened to occur today! You can tell he got injured after what he said at the start of the investigation. About staying at the crime scene because he wasn’t in a state to move about.” Kurosaki-san said.

“You admit to injuring Sly-kun, but not to murdering Shinko-kun? And you expect us to believe that? You were the only one in the building at the time.” Yokozawa-san stated.

“But don’t you understand…? If I was in the library at that time, there was no possibility for me to be the one to create the drag marks in the dirt, or to have dropped that rag in the storage room! My fight with Herr Knives is my alibi for the murder!”

“You could have easily planted that evidence afterwards. Perhaps you were waiting for Shinko-sama to arrive after calling him out to the history building and Sly-sama interrupted that plan.” Ishikawa-san suggested.

“Herr Shinko would have never gone to the history building just because somebody called him there. He was avoiding everyone, so he wouldn’t have gone along with such an obvious trap.” Kurosaki-san argued.

“Then explain the fact that Sly-sama left before you!” Ah, I suppose it does say that.

“Sly-san left…even though he was the one that got knocked out?” Kurohiko-san frowned.

“Oh, that’s a simple one! I stole Herr Knives’ ElectroID whilst he was unconscious!” Kurosaki-san stuck his tongue out playfully.

“You what?!” Sly-san growled. “I’m gonna kill you, I swear-“

“Hey! No violence in the class trial! I swear, you kids are too gung-ho about killing!” Monokuma chastised.

“I can prove it too!” Kurosaki-san held up the ElectroID that was in his pocket and showed Sly-san’s name when it turned on.

“You really did take it then…” Yokozawa-san said. “Then…where does that leave us? It’s all so crazy, none of this makes sense…and yet…”

“No, surely after all this, Kurosaki-sama must have been the killer! He was the only one in that building!” Ishikawa-san insisted.

“But…that’s simply not his character at all.” Asano-san disagreed. “Kurosaki-kun is…confusing, unpredictable, and most certainly a danger to himself and others…however, killing Shinko-kun in such an awful way…I refuse to believe that Kurosaki-kun would do such a thing!”

“All I can say is that after we fought, I simply went back to my room.”

What a messy situation!

“Huh? A standstill? Are you guys at a standstill now…? Well then, the only thing to do is really let you all duke it out here and now! Get ready for the trial morphing grounds!” Kurosaki-san trusted me with his defence…I can’t let him down at this point. I’ll believe in Kurosaki-san until the end!

-Scrum Debate, Begin!-

"Should be believe Yuuki?"

"We Should Believe him!" - Ryuu, Yuuki, Kobo, Mami, Rina

"We Shouldn't Believe Him!" - Sly, Junpei, Tsukiko, Doi, Amaterasu, Karma

Doi: Even after all this evidence, you wanna say that Kurosaki-san isn’t the killer?!

(Asano-san!)

Mami: The evidence also shows that it would have been impossible for Kurosaki-san to be the killer.

Karma: He waited for Toson in the history building but Sly interrupted that plan!

(Kurosaki-san!)

Yuuki: Non, non! There is not a chance that Herr Shinko would have come to the history building without a very important reason.

Amaterasu: Couldn’t Yuuki-chan have planted all the evidence we found after he killed Toson-chan?

(I’ll deal with this!)

Ryuu: Kurosaki-san isn’t the only person who could’ve planted that evidence afterwards.

Tsukiko: The card reader records clearly show that Kurosaki-sama used his ElectroID to leave the building after Sly-sama, despite Sly-sama being knocked out!

(Okanaya-kun!)

Kobo: Kurosaki already showed us that he switched around their ElectroIDs, don’t start forgetting shit!

Junpei: Kurosaki-kun’s the most dangerous person here, it’s not hard to believe that he’d kill someone so brutally.

(Kirishima-san!)

Rina: No…dangerous or not, Kurosaki-kun isn’t a killer! I believe that wholeheartedly!

Sly: You’re all being fooled. He had motive, means and opportunity. He attacked me! He’s the killer!

(Kurosaki-san!)

Yuuki: You’re wrong. The killer is fooling us all, and I intend to prove that in this trial!

“This is our answer!”

“…as I said before. I am not the killer. I won’t allow you all to die because of the killer’s trap.” Kurosaki-san said.

“E…even if you say that…how are you intending to do that? We still don’t know anything about this whole murder plan…it’s like there’s no concrete at all.” Yokozawa-san frowned.

“I disagree. Let us look at the facts. Herr Shinko clearly wouldn’t have left his room for anybody, oui? Ergo, he must’ve been ambushed in the storage room. Let’s roll with that theory for now and see where it takes us.” Kurosaki-san suggested.

“Right. The rag that was doused with chloroform…which means the killer came up behind Shinko-kun and took him by surprise.” Kirishima-san said.

“And off we go! Here’s the beginning of our journey to discovering the killer!”

-Non-stop Debate (4)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Rag/Clean Rag

Drag Marks in the dirt/Undisturbed Dirt

Dented Shelf/Food Shelf

Yokozawa-san’s Account/Yokozawa-san’s Mistake

Loose Bar/Iron Bars

Yuuki: Now that we’re in agreement, let’s go over the events as if Herr Shink were ambushed within the storage room.

Junpei: Nagata-kun already showed enough evidence to say that Shinko-kun went to get food for himself. That was when the killer ambushed him.

Mami: When the killer ambushed Shinko-kun, they used a rag with chloroform on it…

Doi: And Shinko-san went down without a fight.

Mami: Then, the killer began to drag Shinko-kun’s body over to the history building.

Yuuki: We never decided if he woke up or not, but either way, Herr Shinko’s ElectroID is used at the card reader.

Amaterasu: The killer then managed to get Toson-chan into the torture exhibit…and they pushed him into the iron maiden.

Kobo: Awful way to go…

Ryuu: (This is a general gist of what could have happened…I need to see if anything contradicts with the evidence…)

No, that’s wrong!

“Kurohiko-san, I don’t think Shinko-san went down without a fight. That seems really improbable, actually.”

“Is this about the shelf?” Yokozawa-san asked.

“Yeah.”

“Basically, there was a dented shelf in the storage room that had appeared sometime last night. Based on the distance between that shelf and the floor, I figured it was probably caused by someone at least 6 foot hitting their elbow into it.” Yokozawa-san explained.

“You were able to tell all that just from looking at the damage?” Asano-san tilted her head.

“It’s cause Junpei-chan has no social life.” Amaterasu-san said.

“Ah, I see. I too know a lot of general facts because of my restricted personal life.”

“Please don’t compare our situations…” Yokozawa-san sighed, rubbing his temples, “anyway, it’s not as simple as who’s 6 feet tall. It’s also possible that Shinko-kun picked the killer up during a fight and the killer caused that during the struggle.”

“So, it doesn’t actually narrow anything down. That’s unfortunate.” Ishikawa-san said.

“No. That’s it. That finally puts the nail in the coffin that was necessary for a solid accusation against our killer. Merci, Yokozawa-kyun!” Kurosaki-san clapped.

“K…’kyun’?!” Yokozawa-san blushed a little.

“Ugh…finally.” Sly-san let out a sigh of relief, “You were really starting to get on my nerves, I never thought it would work out.”

“Wh…huh?” Okanaya-kun tilted his head.

“Sorry, sorry! I should apologise to all of you for taking you on that ride earlier, but it was necessary to get to this point! You see, Herr Knives and I…kind of acted out everything before in order to draw suspicion to the real killer.” Kurosaki-san said. What? What is he talking about?

“What, like…you two were working together?” Graves-san asked.

“This guy called me a few nights ago detailing that a certain someone was planning a murder. I didn’t really believe it, but…I guess I couldn’t chance it. Don’t get it twisted, I still don’t trust him. He’s a slimy bastard through-and-through.” Sly-san said.

“Then why help him…?” Kurohiko-san asked.

Sly-san twirled his chain around his finger, “…cause he knows stuff. That’s all I can really say about it. So, we staged a fight in front of the main bulk of the group. Figured nobody would bother us and we could figure out what to do in secret.”

“You two faked that whole thing?!” Okanaya-kun said, “The fuck…if you thought a murder was gonna occur, why didn’t you stop it?!”

“If we tried to stop it, we would have ended up victims instead. That was a guarantee. Either way, someone was going to die.” Kurosaki-san said.

“How can you know that?!” Okanaya-kun growled.

“He just can…I don’t like it, but…” Sly-san shook his head, “the point is, the killer’s messed up. What Yokozawa just said outs them as the killer.”

“R-really…? You’re saying I helped out…?” Yokozawa-san was clearly trying to stop himself from smiling, “I m-mean…of course! You guys would be lost without me, right?! You should all be thanking me!”

“What a tool.” Amaterasu-san said.

“Nagata-kyun, you’ve realised it by, surely? Someone has been acting very suspicious ever since this morning. Not to mention that Herr Shinko being in a fight directly contradicts something you’ve heard before.” Kurosaki-san nodded to me. Yeah…I figured it out while they were talking. The killer…the one that killed Shinko-san like that, is…

The culprit…is you!

“…Tsukiko Ishikawa.” The name caused a void in the room. Everybody’s eyes swiftly shifted towards the silent girl who stared at the whole group with vacant emotionless eyes, no smile or frown on her face. No sign of surprise or expectancy. “…I remember. In your autopsy report, you said there were no signs of a struggle on Shinko-san’s body. But, the dent on that shelf shows that he definitely fought with his killer. It’s a direct contradiction with what you told me! What do you have to say?!”

“…Nagata-sama, come now. Is this a joke.” Ishikawa-san put a gloved hand over her mouth, suppressing the urge to laugh, “because of an error in my autopsy, I’m now a suspect? That’s completely absurd.”

“But it’s not. Ever since this morning, you’ve been acting…cold. Almost on edge…I didn’t think much of it, that maybe being in here was just getting to you…but the murder was on your mind. You were acting differently without meaning to.”

“…the issue here is with the autopsy, yes? That can be easily explained. If you will allow me to speak…?”

“Go right ahead. We’ll reach the truth one way or another.” Sly-san said. Ishikawa-san’s brow furrowed.

“Insolence.” She said.

-Non-Stop Debate (5)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Ishikawa-san’s Autopsy/Ishikawa-san’s Mistake

Loose Bar/Iron Bars

Monokuma File 3/Monokuma’s Mistake 3

Dented Shelf/Food Shelf

Iron Maiden/Locked Iron Maiden

Tsukiko: There is absolutely no issue with me getting something wrong in my autopsy report. After all, I am not a forensics expert.

Sly: Despite the fact that your field of expertise is dead bodies?

Tsukiko: Be that as it may, even a professional mortician would have had trouble. Shinko-sama’s body was in an iron maiden. Ergo, holes were all over his body. I messed up the autopsy because of the holes in his arms. Nothing more.

Yuuki: Ah…you really think it’s so simple. You can’t run away from the truth.

Tsukiko: You’re a fool. You have no proof I was there other than circumstantial evidence.

Ryuu: (Ishikawa-san…it’s hard to believe, but this seems to be the way Kurosaki-san and Sly-san were pushing the argument.)

No, that’s wrong!

“Ishikawa-san, did you really think that would work?”

She said nothing.

“If you look at the Monokuma file, on the page where it shows the placement of Shinko-san’s injuries…you can clearly see that his arms didn’t sustain any injuries at all! There were no injuries to obstruct you from seeing signs of a struggle on his arms!”

“And? There were no signs of a struggle on his arms. If there was a struggle, then he would have gotten injured elsewhere.” Ishikawa-san said.

“Now you’re changing your story. Not looking good for you.” Kurosaki-san taunted.

Ishikawa-san clicked her tongue. “Isn’t it early to accuse anybody? We barely have a picture of what transpired last night. All we know is that Shinko-sama was ambushed in the storage room, and because of a mix-up in my autopsy, I’m the killer? I think not!”

“…fine. We’ll do it your way. Let’s figure out the rest of the events and show that Mademoiselle Ishikawa is the only person that could have done it!” Kurosaki-san said.

“Then we should discuss the time of death. We still haven’t settled on when it took place.” Amaterasu-san said.

“Yuuki should know, right? After all, the killer arrived at the history building with Toson’s unconscious body right before he left the history building!” Graves-san said.

“Hmm…Herr Knives arrived around 12:30am. Then at some point the killer arrived. Herr Knives and I staged our fight and I left at around, say…12:40am. In that 10-minute time frame is when the killer arrived.”

“It takes about two or three minutes to walk from the dorm building to the history building, but with dragging Shinko’s body…the killer probably would have taken double that. So, let’s say it took them five minutes.” Sly-san decided.

The time of death definitely took place sometime after that 10-minute period between when Sly-san arrived, and Kurosaki-san left. If we can figure out when, maybe it’ll prove Ishikawa-san’s the killer…!

-Non-Stop Debate (6)-

Truth Bullets/Lie Bullets

Window Frame/Missing Windowpane

Crashing Noise/Silent Night

Bloody Book/Regular Book

ElectroID Entrance/Tampered Card Reader

Exhibit List/Unfinished Exhibit List

Karma: So, the killer definitely arrived at the history building between 12:30am…and 12:40am.

Rina: Then they must have taken a certain time to get the body all the way up to the third floor. Ah…that must have been really challenging.

Kobo: Depending on their strength, it could take up to 20 minutes for the killer to reach the torture exhibit.

Rina: The problem is that there was no evidence discovered in the history building that could point us to the time of death.

Junpei: Does it need to be the time of death…? Can’t we even estimate a timeframe?

Amaterasu: It was probably after Yuuki-chan left the building. So, definitely after 12:40am.

Kobo: But we have no idea when the killer left!

Junpei: Surely not too soon after?

Ryuu: (Establishing the time of death could help us discover the killer…I wonder is there any way to figure it out…?)

No, that’s wrong!

“No, we do have an idea of when the killer left the building! That night, Okanaya-kun, Kirishima-san, and me were all out on the field when we all heard a crashing noise come from the leisure building. When we investigated, we found a broken window on the side that faced the history building.”

“Huh…? You sayin’ that was caused by the killer?” Okanaya-kun asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure of it. That crash happened somewhere between 1am and 1:30am, we weren’t keeping track of the time so we can’t make anything definite.” I said.

“No, that’s fine. Kurosaki said he left the building around 12:40 and dragging the body from the 1st floor to the 3rd floor and then putting it into the iron maiden would probably take about 20 minutes, so it fits in with the time frame.” Sly-san said.

“Preposterous.” Ishikawa-san said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Kurosaki-san smiled.

“Do I really need to point out the obvious? The killer was in the history building, but the broken window was at the leisure building. How on earth would the killer manage that?”

“…I don’t think that would be much of a problem in this case. You could probably hit the leisure building from the history building if you used…”

My logic follows!

“…the catapults at the top of the towers on the history building.” I concluded.

“Oh yeah, if you used those catapults then you could definitely hit the leisure building window from the history building. So…the killer probably saw Ryuu-chan, Kobo-chan, and Rina-chan all out on the field and used the catapults to distract them for long enough to get back to the dorms without being seen.” Amaterasu-san said.

“And there’s even evidence of the catapults being used, right Nagata?!” Okanaya-kun grinned. Ah…yeah, he’s right actually.

Here’s my proof!

“It’s as Okanaya-kun said. There was a large collection of rocks underneath the broken window, and when I went to check the weapons exhibit today, the pile of rocks in there had been disturbed and were lying around on the floor. The killer most likely used those rocks and loaded them into the catapult.”

“They didn’t clean it up…? That’s pretty unusual.” Yokozawa-san noted.

“The killer was in a rush. They didn’t know how long that distraction would give them, so they had to get to the dorms as quickly as possible.” Asano-san took a moment to put the sequence of events together in her head, “yes, most likely…the killer launched the rocks, sprinted down the stairs and left the history building-“

You’ve dug your own grave!!

“That’s impossible!!” Ishikawa-san suddenly yelled.

“H-huh…?”

Ishikawa-san took a moment and returned to her usual demeanour, “Ahem…what I mean is…the killer never shows up on the card reader records after Shinko-sama enters the building, correct? Or rather…it’s impossible to leave the building without showing up on the card reader. So that must mean the ones who show up on the card reader are the killers!”

“You’re gonna throw the blame on Kurosaki-san and Sly-san again?!”

“I believe the shoe has fit for a while. I will end this farce here and now!”

-Rebuttal Showdown Vs Tsukiko Ishikawa-

Truth Blades:

Iron Maiden

Exhibit List

ElectroID Entrance

Crashing Noise

Broken Window

Rock Pile

Loose Bar

Window Frame

Tsukiko: To leave the building, you are required to scan your ElectroID at the door, there is no other way out of the building! If we are to follow that very simple logic, whoever shows up on the card reader must be the true culprit!

Ryuu: That doesn’t account for all the logs on the records! Kurosaki-san and Sly-san both entered before Shinko-san arrived and didn’t leave until after he got there! What’s your explanation for that?

Tsukiko: It is obvious. Shinko-sama went to the history building after all! Either Kurosaki-sama or Sly-sama ambushed and killed him! To think that you would all accuse me when the truth is as clear as day…

Ryuu: (The further we go, the more agitated Ishikawa-san becomes…I’m convinced now that we’re on the right track…)

I’ll cut through that argument!

“You’re wrong! There is another way out of the history building other than the ID entrance. Kirishima-san was investigating the ground floor and stumbled upon something really interesting; one of the bars on the windows was loose and could be removed pretty easily.”

“Ah, yeah! I totally forgot about that! With the space between the bars, taking one out means anyone could have slipped through the gap!” Kirishima-san said.

“Ishikawa-san, you objected because you knew that fact already. You thought if you threw off the argument now that we’d direct our attention back to Kurosaki-san and Sly-san, but it won’t work.”

“So, what if the bar comes out? That doesn’t mean the killer actually used that route to leave the building!”

No…she’s wrong, there’s evidence of the killer using that window!

Here’s my proof!

“There were scuff marks on that window frame as if something metal was scratching against the stone. Ishikawa-san…those buckles on your boots are metal, aren’t they?” I waited for a response, but Ishikawa-san remained silent, glaring intensely at me. “If you crawled out of the window, your boot buckles would have scraped against the stone which would explain those scuff marks that were found!”

“You…” Ishikawa-san’s voice began to sound venomous.

“God, this talk about the ID gate is really confusing me…hey, Nagata-kun, how do you even know about all these gate records anyway?” Yokozawa-san asked.

“Monokuma gave us a sheet of paper with the record of the last 24 hours. I was supposed to share it with everyone cause it’s the only copy, but…I kinda forgot.” No, Kurosaki-san told me to keep to myself.

“That’s weird…” Okanaya-kun murmured. Huh? What’s weird. “You didn’t show the records to anyone…?”

“Only to Kurosaki-san, but that’s because he was with me when I got them.” I said. Okanaya-kun only frowned further. Something is weird about all this…what’s weird about this…?

My logic follows!

“…ah! Ishikawa-san knows about the ElectroID records!”

“Wh-“

“Actually…ever since the start of the trial, she’s been talking about the ID records as if she’s seen them, but if Nagata-kun is the only person with a copy then how-“

“I have seen the records.” Ishikawa-san cut Asano-san off. “When I was performing my autopsy, I asked Monokuma-sama to bring me the card reader records because I believed it would lead to the killer. However, I returned the paper to Monokuma-sama once I read it. That is why Nagata-sama ended up with the records.”

“But wasn’t Sly-chan in the room with you?” Amaterasu-san asked.

“Not the whole time. Due to the head injury and the stench of blood, I had to leave the room for five minutes to get some air. I guess it’s possible in that time, Ishikawa asked for the card reader records. I hate giving it to her, but this is one thing we can’t disprove.”

“Even so, pile it on with everything else…it’s more likely that she knew Sly and Yuuki were in the building because she saw them, right? She got there right after Sly arrived so she might have spotted him, and she hid from Yuuki after she got there.” Graves-san pointed out.

“It’s all circumstantial! You’ve still yet to show any solid proof of me being in that building, let alone killing Shinko-sama! I’m really getting fed up with all these baseless accusations! I apologise for my mistake with the autopsy report, but we’re all guaranteed to faulter at some point, so just move on!”

“We can’t do that. After all, Mademoiselle…you’re the killer.”

“ENOUGH!!!” Ishikawa-san snapped, slamming her hands on her podium. “I’m sick of this! Sick of it all! Who are you to get on your high horse and accuse everyone?! If anybody in this group is suspicious it is you!! You’ve really pushed me to my limit!”

“…Nagata-kyun.”

“Is this the end argument…?”

“I believe so.” Kurosaki-san nodded.

“Then…I’ll take it head on. I’ll give you your proof and show you that you were present at the history building!”

“You insolent boy…! You have no respect for your peers, I will prove you all wrong right here and now!!”

-Argument Armament vs Tsukiko Ishikawa-

Tsukiko: All you have given to say I am the killer is circumstantial evidence! You’re all putting blind faith in baseless theories provided by Kurosaki-sama without showing any concrete proof and I refuse to stand for it!

Tsukiko: I would never kill Shinko-sama! As a thanatologist, I have too much respect and value for life that to take away life would be a sin for me to do! You all truly believe that I would betray my own occupation for a chance to escape?! Preposterous!

Tsukiko: The killer is Kurosaki-sama, or Sly-sama, or both! You have all been fooled by their craftiness! I will not allow them to pin all of their crimes on me! Stage a fight?! Predict a murder?! Who would believe such foolish nonsense?! You’re all smarter than that!

Ryuu: This is the end!

Tsukiko: Where is the proof, I was in the history building?!

In the rock pile!

“I have it. Your proof that you wanted so desperately. In that rock pile that hit the window, there was something else mixed in there…a piece of black fabric. Ishikawa-san…I wonder, could that piece of fabric come from you…?”

“I’m suddenly the only person that wears black?”

“No, obviously not…but when launching the catapult, I wonder…is it possible your glove got caught on the catapult and tore when it launched? Or maybe it tore when you were carrying the rocks…? If we collected that fabric, would it be the same kind of fabric as your gloves…?”

“What kind of fabric are your gloves, Mademoiselle? Silk? I think you’d be the only person here that wears silk.” Kurosaki-san chimed in.

“Th…that’s…” Ishikawa-san looked lost for the first time since she started to argue. “I…can explain-“

“Ishikawa-san. Please…” Asano-san spoke softly. “It hurts to even accuse you, but seeing you argue like this hurts me even more. You must understand that there are no more arguments now that Nagata-kun has placed you at the history building.”

“And as the one that pulled the lever on the catapults.” Graves-san added.

“And left scuff marks on the window frame.” Kurohiko-san followed.

“And with nobody there to back you up. Yuuki-chan and Sly-chan already said they were there together.” Amaterasu-san said.

“Not to mention, I’ll gladly show everyone my wardrobe. None of my black clothing is damaged in any way.” Sly-san said.

“Also, since you dropped the rags, you had your gloves to use for a replacement rag if Shinko woke up again.” Okanaya-kun said.

“I…I…” Ishikawa-san’s clenched fists relaxed, her eyes exhausted, “…concede.”

“…then let’s wrap this up. We’ll go from the start of the case and finish this for good.”

This is the truth of the incident!

Act 1

For the killer to guarantee that their plan worked, they needed to pick a victim that would be easy to ambush. Luckily, their observations allowed them to learn that our victim, Shinko-san, would go to the storage room at night to get cutlery for his food. It was the perfect opportunity, despite Shinko-san doing everything he could in order to avoid being killed. The night of the murder, the killer snuck up on Shinko-san and attempted to drug him by using a chloroform-soaked rag, however he fought back and in the ensuing fight before he passed out, he dented the food shelf.

Act 2

Next the killer began to drag his body over to the history building. Usually this would be hard for any normal person, but our killer was experienced in handling bodies. When they got to the history building they used Shinko-san's electroID to get inside and went to the ancient torture exhibit after hiding from Kurosaki-san who was leaving around the same time they arrived and then...they threw his body into the iron maiden and closed it over. I'm not sure if Shinko-san died whilst unconscious, frankly, I don't want to consider the idea that he regained consciousness.

Act 3

The killer then went to leave the building but spotted myself, Okanaya-kun, and Kirishima-san sitting outside at the fountain and realised they couldn't get back to the dorms without being seen, so they made an on-the-spot plan. They took a pile of rocks from the torture exhibit and loaded them onto a catapult at the top of the tower and aimed it at the leisure building. The released the catapult and began sprinting down the stairs, not realising a piece of their glove tore on the catapult.

Act 4

The rocks hit the windows of the leisure building, alerting myself, Okanaya-kun, and Kirishima-san and causing us to go and investigate. That's the opportunity the killer had to climb out of the window, to avoid using the electroID lock on the front door, scuffing the window frame as they did and ran back to the dorm building. All they had to do from there was wait until the next morning and discover the body and lie in the autopsy report.

And the person who did all of this...was you, right?! Tsukiko Ishikawa, the Ultimate Thanatologist!

“…I see. I…truly underestimated you, Nagata-sama…Kurosaki-sama.” Ishikawa-san giggled as if everything was normal. “I…thought that as long as I left no trace of myself, I could win. Then Nagata-sama, Kirishima-sama, and Okanaya-sama turned up and…I slipped up.”

“Ishikawa-san…”

“I did my best to fight it. I’ve abused my second chance at life…I’ll accept my fate now, it is alright.” She smiled politely, “apologies for my behaviour.”

“…that’s gotta be the politest confession we’ve ever gotten!” Monokuma sprung to life. “Well, you all know the score by now! On your podiums are buttons of all the participants, it’s time to vote for who you all think is the killer! Will you pick the right person, or the dreadfully wrong person? Who’s it gonna be…? What’s it gonna be?!”

We all locked in our votes and the roulette wheel started to spin around before eventually landing on Ishikawa-san’s face. The bouquets of flowers and coins showered out from the machine to celebrate the end of the voting.

The third class trial had ended.

#DKronpa #chapters #fanganronpa #fangan ronpa #danganronpa fangan #danganronpa #dangan ronpa

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evan-hand-soap · 6 years ago

Text

I wrote this last night because I got bored

Jeremy Heere x Reader:)

Basicallyyyyyyyy you/Reader are in the position of Jeremy and Jeremy is in the position of Michael... so Reader has a Squip while (not to readers consent) Jeremy’s on opt. nerve blocking. It’ll make sense later.

*bold and italics means it’s the Squip btw*

Word count- I think it was like 2071

Warnings: lil bit of cursing but it’s only like twice, the Squip putting reader in pain, crying, uh that’s it I think... let me know if there more.

Loud music blared through huge speakers in the Halloween party you were at- and had no idea why you even bothered to come. You didn’t know many people there. So why come? Oh yeah. The Squip told you too. It drives you insane. I N S A N E. You knew how to get rid of it, but didn’t know where to get a code red Mountain Dew. You’d searched everywhere but made no success. Parties used to give you panic attacks. You had the popular people there, sure. Doesn’t mean you liked them. And you didn’t want to stay either. After forcing the Squip to let you get your way, you were on your way out of the house. On the way you accidentally bumped into someone, who had taken all of your attention.

“I- sorr- oh my god! Jeremy! Where have you been for like the last two weeks??”

“Oh? You’re suddenly paying attention to me? You’ve been ignoring me!”

“I- I have..??”

“It’s called optic nerve blocking. I have been blocking Jeremy from your field of vision. Without your consent, of course.”

“You what???”

“What?”

“Not you Jeremy- Wait—“ you red solo cup in his hand caught your eye.

“Red- Red! Red! Mountain Dew! Code Red Mountain Dew! Do you have any!!?”

“What? No. I know a store that sells it-“

“I need it!”

“No you don’t! I’m helping you!!”

He looked at you like you were crazy and you begged him, tears forming.

“Jeremy please-“ you choked on a sob, “This thing— this voice- I-I- I need it gone! I-I-I’m going insane— plea-pleas—“

“What- What voice?”

“I’ll explain later! Just help me-“

“I- come with me.” He sighed and grabbed your wrist. He tugged you outside and into his car.

“I’ll get you your Mountain Dew. But why have you been ignoring me?”

“I-it it’s not intentional— t-this thing! I- it’s a- a robot— telling me what I need to do-“ tears streamed down your face as it yelled in your head.

“He’s yelling— and he’s not stopping! H-he’s driving me insane— I- it hurts- it got rid of you! I- it said it’s called o-“ you were zapped and you cried even harder.

“Get out of my head!” You yelled and held your head tightly while sobbing.

“I-it’s an opti-optic nerve blocking- it blocks out people— the ones it thinks I don’t need-“

“I’ll be right back-“ he said and threw himself out of the car and into the parking lot. He was off and into a mall while you were sobbing and screaming at yourself telling it shut up.

“GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!” You sobbed and the car door flew open.

“Here-“ Jeremy told you and you shot your hand out to grab it. You were zapped and tried to resist the zaps. You took it into your shaky hands and just chugged. And chugged. As much of it as you could. You quickly screwed the cap on before the pain kicked in and held your head, bracing for pain you knew was coming soon. You heard it’s glitching voice and a faint ‘OVERRIDE’ bleeping. The pain kicked in and you sobbed and sobbed and held your head while it felt like you were being hit in the head with a sledgehammer while your brain was being tased. It felt horrible but thankfully it didn’t last that long. When it was gone you were shaking and panting.

“Deep breaths.”

“I-it’s gone— finally—“

“Okay what’s gone?”

“T-th-the the thing! It- it’s a computer- in a pill— it stays in your brain and tells you what to do and how to be the way you want to be. In this case, cool-“

“You need some rest, I’ll take you home.”

“I- I can’t be alone— I’ll have a panic attack.”

“Then I’ll stay with you. I’ll help you try and get your mind off things. Is your basement still in use of video games?”

“Always has been. But I upgraded it. With any money I could get. D- do you still remember my address?” You we’re still shaking but not stuttering as much, the tears still slowly streaming down your face in the moonlight.

“Yeah, your house isn’t that hard to find.” You nodded and put your head back, closing your eyes and trying to breathe normally. He pulled up in your driveway and got out of the driver side. You were just barley shutting the door on your side when he was on your side and helping you walk straight hence you were still shaking. He helped you inside the house and you walked him to the basement which was majorly upgraded. You flicked on the light, which was also connected to all the other machines and things in your basement. So everything else lit up. The basement was decorated with red walls, black carpet, and dark blue couch in front of a huge flat screen Tv. The walls had video game posters and what not on them, with a few neon light fixtures. You also had a vintage Pac-Man game machine that was still in function, that is almost impossible find. You had a mini fridge stuffed with sodas and snacks in one corner of the room. Beside the mini fridge was a bathroom which was literally nothing special at all. Had a shower, sink, toilet, the usual. And a huge dresser that was meant to be stuffed with movie dvds, but instead, you stuffed it with any video game, game controller, and or game console you own. Along with a popcorn machine for popping fresh popcorn beside the mini fridge. You had this room envisioned for years and decided to take any money you had and earn so more, into this basement. Along with trading any gift cards you had with your dad in exchange for money to add to the pile.

“Holy shit!”

“I know! I’m basically broke now but it was worth it. I haven’t been down here in a while since the Squip but... it’s still the same.”

“This is heaven—“

“Like I said.”

“Oh my god-“

“Are we going to just stare at it or actually use it? Because I’ve been desperate to.”

“Use it-“

“You can pick a game.” You made snacks and what not up stairs while starting popcorn in the machine while he dug through your collection. You came down stairs with a selection of snacks and sugar for the night while he was setting up a game. Which to his choice, was GTA.

-three weeks later-

You and Jeremy and Michael, who was at the party but you didn’t see him, had started hanging out again and the hanging out in your basement every night became a routine. Everyday after school they’d instinctively take the bus with you and get off at your stop. They even had a drawer of extra clothes in your dresser upstairs in your bedroom.

When they got over to your house with you after the bus, they went down stairs to pick a game while you stayed upstairs making food in the kitchen. While you were throwing things around trying to move quickly, you spilt a monster that you were drinking(that was probably the reason why you had energy) all over you. You quickly ran upstairs to your room to change. You changed into sweatpants and realized you hadn’t done your laundry in a while. Leaving you with no shirts. You quickly debated on just throwing a jacket on or grabbing something of Michael’s or Jeremy’s. You settled on wearing Jeremy’s clothes since if anything, it’d fit a little better. You threw on a black Pac-man t shirt he had with one of his hoodies. If you were being honest, you had a crush on Jeremy. It wasn’t too big or anything, but it was there. You had told Michael about it and whenever the three of you were in a room alone, he would wink at you or smirk or whatever, from behind Jeremy. The smell of his cologne flooded into your nose which caused you to blush and hug yourself, to hold the huge hoodie tighter. You ran downstairs and to the kitchen again, this time trying to be more careful. You were in the basement soon with the snacks and had them set on the table in front of the couch. You didn’t see Jermey, but assumed he was in the bathroom because you could hear the shower running. He probably got something on himself too. Michael didn’t notice you come down until he turned around and saw you on the couch, scrolling through your phone in Jeremy’s clothes.

“Looky looky. Already stealing his clothes.”

“In my defense, I haven’t done my laundry and I spilt a monster on me so I had to resort to your guys’s stuff. I chose his because his clothes would most likely fit me better than yours.

“Mhm.. sure.” You scoffed and looked back down at your phone. Michael sat down on a bean bag that was between the couch and Tv, slurping on a slushee. You heard the bathroom door open, causing you to look up and see Jeremy. Who was wearing the same sweatpants as before, and the same blue hoodie. But with wet hair. When his eyes met yours he looked you up and down. He approached you rather quickly and collided with the couch and was now in front of you.

“Are you wearing my hoodie??”

“Yeah.. I spilt a monster on me and I haven’t done my laundry in a while so I just resorted to taking your stuff. Which is super comfy, by the way. Michael’s would’ve been too big.”

“Yeah no- I know it is. Because it’s mine. It- it looks good on you..” you blushed a dark red and slightly smiled. You could practically hear Michael’s smirk. Before you could say anything, Michael took it upon himself to LEAVE.

“I think I left my phone upstairs.. I’ll be back.” You felt yourself start to panic while he got up, and was gone in a second. You, unknowingly, were lost in his eyes with big heart eyes. Which he was doing the same. Which of course, he didn’t know either. Before you could say or do anything, he cupped your cheek and pinned you to the couch, him on top of you, his lips planted on yours. It took a split second to react but you were soon kissing him back and it was probably the best thing to happen to you, besides him actually returning in your life in the first place.

“Woah—“ you mumbled once you’d both pulled away. He didn’t say anything but look into your eyes and flash you a small smile. He sat up, no longer pinning you down, and picked up a controller.

“Sorry, I was just desperate to do that.”

“Y-n- d- don’t be s-sorry. It’s- Fine—“ you sat up and reached for a controller, a deep blush covering your face. Throughout the game your mind was off in another world and you lost to Jeremy every time, which wasn’t normal. Michael was back in the room and sitting in front of you on the beanbag.

“You suck today, y/n.” Michael laughed and you shook your head.

“I- I wouldn’t if my mind was clear—“

“Will this help-“ Jeremy dropped the remote and dove over to press his lip to yours.

“I don’t think t-“ you were cut off by his lips on yours once again, this kiss even more intense and deeper than the last one. Your hands were up in his messy hair, slightly pulling at his head. One of his hands were low on your waist, holding you up to his waist while his other was holding your head. After you both had eventually pulled away he had a smile and so did you, along with a bright red face.

“I-“ Michael started clapping slowly and laughed.

“It’s about time this happened. It literally killed me every time I saw you two together because holy shit-“

“Michael, shut up.” Jeremy told him and you laughed.

“I’m just saying! So are you guys like dating now or what?” You looked back up at Jermey and gave him a questioning look.

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Only to your consent, of course.”

“Then you have it.”

“Wait really??”

“Yeah,”

“I- uh- awesome!” You laughed and pressed your lips to his.

“Your such a nerd.”

#be more chill #jeremy heere x reader #this isnt very gewd i know #michael mell #jeremy heere #the squip #boink

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leglesstv · 5 years ago

Photo

The Dream Run: Greg Holzman’s Island Life

Some questions. Who are you, really? Where do you live? How do you make a living? What turns you on? What frightens you? What do you want from life and what would you sacrifice to get it? Write your answers down on a piece of paper and then, next to each answer, write down why. Take your time. Think about it. You might discover some surprising things about yourself.

If you’re a kneeboarder, you’ll have been asked “the question” by someone who’s not. There may be any number of glib retorts tossed off over a shoulder with a laugh, but the question of what keeps each individual kneeboarder surfing in a manner generally seen as archaic, curious or just plain weird, will always have a real answer, one that reveals something about our individuality. Sometimes the answer’s so simple that it needs no explanation. Then again, sometimes the simplest things can be the hardest to grasp. At the most basic level, human motivation has to do with need: food, shelter, belonging. Once needs are met, desire takes over. We become driven by our strongest desires. those to which we ascribe the most importance, and hence the most value. The profile you’re about to read is an object lesson in this principle and how it can shape a life.

Lately we’ve been exchanging emails with Greg Holzman. If the name’s familiar it’s because he’s the subject of a few drool-provoking photos published here over the last year or more. We’ve known about him for a long time, primarily through shaper and Hawaiian legend Bud McCray, but Greg’s something of an enigma, staying out of sight and quietly doing his thing. A fisherman by trade, Greg’s thing involves finding the best, biggest and emptiest waves he can sensibly contemplate, and riding them with rare style and grace. Here at Legless.TV we reckon that qualifies Greg as a genuine underground hero, though we suspect he’d probably be reluctant to describe himself in such terms. We’re not about to enter the debate about the merits or otherwise of the whole concept of “underground”: our job is simply to record and present to the world what is. Greg’s based on Kauai, the outermost island of the Hawaiian chain. We started by asking Greg for a little biographical background. Oh yeah: that’s us in italics, everything else is Greg.

My father’s family moved here before WWII, to Honolulu, but my dad met my mom in California, USA. I lived in La Jolla a few years and saw the Lis fish crew kneeboarding Big Rock and was sure that was the thing to do. Everyone on stand-ups was eating shit there and it was like a gladiator arena. Then I saw Greenough films in a movie theater in 71/72 - with the barrel shots. My Dad got me a G&S twin-fin fish and I brought it back to Hawaii when we moved to Kailua on Oahu. I remember it sucked, but it got me there. I was a kook for three years, from 12 to 15. I never did surf Big Rock, which was the goal when I started. But then in 1974, Local Motion opened the first surf shop in Kailua, and I was one of the first kneeboarders in there. They had a few nice 5’4” fish twins and I had some Christmas money. I bought a nice Robbie Burns (owner of Local Motion) shaped kneeboard. I took that board to Maui, where I went to 10th grade high school. I got kicked out for putting too much priority on surfing. I was devastated. I went to the school in the summer and begged them to take me back, but they said I wasn’t college material, which was true. I just loved the outer island life in the 70’s.

Outer Island life in the mid-70s can be seen in surf films of the day: Fluid Drive, 5 Summer Stories, A sea For Yourself. If you were a kid watching those movies in a rented hall somewhere that wasn’t Hawaii, the images of hollow waves in clear, warm water, white sand with palms swaying gently in perpetual offshores was almost too much to bear. Greg was living it.

It all really started when I was 15. I surfed Maalaea September 1974 and May 1975 with all the guys like Jeff Hakman, Reno Abillera, Sammy Hawk, Owl Chapman. It was like I was in a movie. Just the best swells ever, photos in all the magazines - historical stuff. That was my first real tube riding. I was 15 and I was in these big windy tunnels, trying to figure it out. There was no going back to “normal” pre-surf life after that. Later on I was scared out of my head some days at Specklesville and Hookipa Lanes. I would duck dive and the wave would just suck me back over as I was so light, but my Duck Feet fins just saved me time after time. I learned to love it, not fear it. By 17 I was in public high school – surfing, cutting class on Kona winds, riding Pipe and a place called North Beach on Kaneohe Marine base. We would sneak in early mornings and avoid the Military Police.

Military Police? Really?

Yeah. I became a master of deception. I got to know the kids on base and would take on their identity. While other surfers were getting busted, I was heading back to my friend’s house where the Mom would be super happy their kid had a friend off base. These kids were not popular at school! It all worked out and I became the kid that came into school at recess or lunch with wet hair and sandy feet and everyone wanted to know how the surf was. That’s where I learned to enjoy surfing by myself. It was cool, and I knew I was a lucky kid who had broken the code. I remember more than once being woken in period 6 by my history teacher all worried I wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, when it was actually I was up before dawn, on my bike through the back of the military range with a flashlight … and then riding to school for my 25 cent taco lunch and 5th and 6th period. I’m not sure how I graduated but I did.

I became good friends with Buzzy Kerbox, as I was roommates with his girlfriend. We surfed the North Shore a lot through the winter of 78/79. He got me in the know with Pat Rawson, who shaped his boards. Pat made me a few boards and I surfed Pipeline a bunch with Buzzy. He was on a roll with big wins and it was an interesting time, but I knew it wasn’t going to last. The North Shore was getting very popular and my secret spot at Kaneohe Marine Base was now too risky to sneak on - I had turned 18 and could be arrested and thrown in jail. Something had to change. I got a newspaper, looking at outer island jobs, since I was thinking of going back to Maui. I saw a job for a cook on Kauai. I watched that ad change and the salary get better and then one day my friend and I were with our girlfriends and I just told him “I’m calling these guys up”. Our girlfriends thought we were kidding but the chefs were desperate. They said they would pay our way over to check it out. I was 19 and thought I’d just go for the ride. I ended up with a company truck and a condo and my first strike mission. Our girlfriends were just shocked! I told my mom after a month she would have to come to Kauai if she wanted to see me because I was staying for good. It was heaven - even the military base let us on, no sneaking - and the waves were epic. After a year I bought a Jeep and my life was as good as it gets. Everyone worked in the restaurants at night and surfed in the mornings. It was a big party. We all knew we were in the best place in the USA. Nobody wanted to expose it. Photos were not a thing, but a few came up from time to time and as the years have gone by, they’re now showing up.

Then Hurricane Iwa came in November 1982.

The last storm of the 1982 hurricane season, Iwa struck Kauai hard, with winds of up to 193 kmh, massive swells and storm surge. Hundreds were left homeless, schools were closed indefinitely and President Reagan declared the island a disaster area. Greg was living in a beach house and when the eye passed over, escaped to a friend’s house inland with just two boards and the clothes he was wearing.

Everything changed after that. Many surfers became construction workers and many got serious about life and money. The age of innocent fun was being tested. Restaurants were closed for half a year. I tried the construction stuff, but I couldn’t work in the day. I had always worked nights and surfed days. It just felt wrong. A friend had a boat and took me fishing. First time out, we caught so many fish. In the morning we brought them in, got a slip in the butcher shop and then we went to the cashier at the grocery store and she gave us money ... wow that was different! I was always giving her my money for food. I thought - this is something I can do on the ocean: work a few days and make as much as I normally do in two weeks ... I got to get me a boat! I learned everything I could from this guy, who was a tough old fisherman: it was all in my plan that I was going to get my own boat!

But things were tough and housing became an issue. I was homeless by 1983 but eventually I managed to find a house on the westside of Kauai. It was three bedrooms for $275 a month. So cheap! I got a roommate and life became pretty easy. I was fishing about 10 days a month and banking money while surfing the rest of the time. Life was cheap and the waves were good. I had decided I would get a boat and I was ready. My first boat was a disaster – a 50 ft wooden boat that had little chance of getting a slip in the harbor. I found a mooring I could lease in Nawilliwilli harbor and kept her there. March 1984, she sank trying to deal with a 24-day storm. I woke up to the Coast Guard saying my boat was on the rocks and I needed to get the fuel off before the tank ruptured and I was in real trouble. That was a lot of work, but lucky for me because that boat would have killed me if it hadn’t sunk. At $10,000 and a year of my dedication it was the school of hard knocks, but it made me learn what I needed to find and how much I was going to have to save to get it. It took me 5 years, but I finally bought a 26’ Radon hull from Santa Barbara Ca. - an all fiberglass trailerable boat I could leave at my house. I still have it. That boat has been my golden goose for 35 years. Although I’m presently not fishing a lot as I’m focused on surfing, I assume one day I will go again. It’s ready when I need it.

With the purchase of his own boat, Greg became able to finetune the way he structured fishing around surfing. The state of Hawaii officially recognises 137 separate islands, but there are many more, many so small they’re not marked on charts. On one of these, Greg had found good waves … and he began to surf them.

I wanted to surf and fish in areas of Hawaii few knew of, so I became a solo bottom fisherman. In Hawaii, that means mainly deep sea vertical long line fishing with targeted hooks in deep-water, anchoring in 400 to 1200 ft of water on deep drop offs and seamounts. I was good at this - surfing and this style of fishing help each other. I became familiar with every sea condition: I’ve been anchored and fished in water that was plain scary. Fishing certainly helped me understand the sea. Like all my endeavours, I took it to the limit. I became the best and it all came from my desire to surf an uncharted island, a place which I shared but never would photograph. Its Hawaiian name is Wai Uliuli or “blue blue water”. I lived for that and made my fishing an excuse to get to that place. It really only got good on high surf warnings, so it was not for the meek. I was often solo surfing or with a friend or single crew member. Mostly I surfed it alone, and it became a spiritual thing which made me comfortable in heavy water. This spot needs a specific swell direction to work well, and of course the right winds. It was always empty. One time the waves got so big I was forced to spend the night on the beach, digging a hole in the sand and using my board as a blanket. Luckily my crew was able to pull anchor and re-set in deeper water. The waves just rose so quick I couldn’t get back out to the boat. After that I was determined to bury water and supplies on the beach to make sure that if it happened again, I was going to be OK. I was sure to be prepared next time. I promised never to take photos or bring cameras and to this day, few exist from my trips. I was offered big money to get the shots, but I never wanted anything to do with exploiting a place I considered - and still do - sacred and holy. Many friends have been, but never a camera. Of course, this was all before iPhones.

To Greg, the years from 1983 to 1992 were golden. Great boards, great waves, making a good living from the ocean, travel: he was living a dream life. Bud McCray was a big part of it.

It was 1983 when I met Buddy McCray. My younger brother Pat was also a kneeboarder, following me into it. Pat lived on Oahu and he met Buddy in the surf. Buddy missed nothing and was quick to come over to Kauai that summer, and he brought a board for me. He recognized that I was willing to test anything, so he sent boards over and I would just give him feedback. His boards got better and better. Sometimes I didn’t like them, but he would tell me to keep trying and many times they did get better, but for me, I kept getting more into the basic no wing, no channel, short fish. I tried pins and squaretails, but it was the basic 5’6” flat bottom Vee that did it for me. In the early ‘80’s surfers were having issues with large waves. I was able to sit inside of them and often catch the sets, because they were constantly under-gunned, but my fins and low center of gravity allowed me in easy. Buddy had me sold pretty quickly on the four-fin set up and by ‘84 things were full tilt. Buddy came over to Kauai regularly the next few years and brought various kneeboarders with him, including Albert Whiteman and an 18-year-old Simon Farrer. Buddy had great timing and we just surfed so much! Every time he came the waves were good. In 1987 he decided to take Lee Pattison, Mike McGuire and myself to G-land. Buddy was well known in every corner of the world by then, but it was my first trip. Bobby Radiasa had been to Hawaii and stayed with Buddy, so we were treated very well. It was a special time to be there, as many know - that first trip was so eye-opening. Before that, I didn’t feel I needed to go anywhere, but after, I knew the best waves in the world were not in Hawaii: for consistent offshore long-period single swell events, it was all happening in Indonesia. Once again Buddy had sent me to the happiest place on earth, with three new boards and a surf camp owner who made sure we were taken care of. Anyone who was there will agree it was one of the best times in the history of surfing.

Greg went back to G-land again for 6 weeks the following year. On his way home he stopped in at the Sari Club in Kuta, where he met Mary, a sweet Californian girl who also surfed – well, of course. Her trip home included a stopover in Hawaii, where Greg showed her around. They had a great time surfing big waves together. Thus began a union that eventually brought them three children. In 1989 Greg travelled to Jeffreys Bay with Buddy McCray, and in 1991 he went again, and found more than just waves.

The waves reminded me of home - cold offshores in midwinter, storms hammering the coast and filtering down to a sweeping right: I loved South Africa. I found a plant group - Cycads - that fascinated me. I was lucky enough to be brought in by some great experts in the Cape, who also liked seashells, which I was collecting in Hawaii. With a bit of horse trading I was taught about these plants, taken into habitat a few years later as a research assistant for the National Botanical Garden and shown around the country by Nature Conservation officers. This began a 30-year love affair and the beginnings of my own Cycad nursery which today allows me to fund my surfing obsession. This wasn’t always the plan, but I also played a huge role in the study of many newly discovered Cycad species in Panama. I helped in collecting and working to help people better understand this important ancient plant family, the oldest continual seed-bearing plants on earth. Over 200 million years! Cycads live for hundreds of years and are extremely valuable. They’re threatened with extinction in South Africa from poaching. They are living art and I wanted to help by competing against the black market by growing Cycads from seeds I produced over 20 years: they grow 10 times faster in Hawaii. It may be the romantic idea of a 30-year-old dreamer, but I achieved a lot.

Greg’s wife, Mary, had formerly been a competitive swimmer, so it was natural for their three kids to follow suit, at least for a while. Their eldest, Matthew, retained enough competitive drive from all those junior swim meets to become a pro body boarder, but there’s a fair bit of the old man in him.

Matt loves to kneeboard when the surf isn’t crazy. He was charging huge Pipe at 17 and got waves in contests that made me live another aspect of surfing - that’s vicariously through your kids’ performance. Sean was less competitive, not wanting to have to live in his brother’s shadow, so he became an amazing diver who took on my love of the hunt. From boars to deep-dive spear fishing, he was leading his peer group, so they both had few problems fitting into this racially diverse island life.

Greg’s daughter is now 15 and can surf, but her Dad reckons she’s become a bit of a landlubber and isn’t getting out in the water. He’s hoping that will change. After all, Greg had a period away from surfing himself not so long ago. He and Mary divorced in 2012, He had been feeling pretty jaded with the surf scene - jet skis and egos and social media, and by the 2013-14 season, Greg stopped surfing altogether - for the first time in his life.

I quit cold turkey, Greg Noll style. I tried to play tennis for 2013/14 and just concentrated on my kids. Finally, I realized I hated competing. Tennis is usually a very competitive game, and I love watching and coaching competition, but after two seasons it was clear that tennis didn’t cut it in the adrenalin area. Times were changing in Kauai surfing again - times are always changing! By 2015, life was expensive and hard for young families, which got a lot of guys in that 30-something age having to work more. My life was getting cheaper and the kids didn’t need me as much, so I began to surf full time and fish less. The winter of 2015-16 was an amazing season which ended with a bang - double late West swells in April. Buddy had made me a board a year earlier and it worked amazing. The foam was different, but the board’s flex made it magic. I could feel that flex and the thinner board flew in 10ft plus Hawaiian power. I never looked back. When those West swells came in, I was surfing so well I just didn’t want it to end. Buddy made me two new boards and by May I was dying to try them out, so I headed to Kandui and quickly realized that this surf traveling was the greatest feeling of all. With the high-tech forecasts and Facebook etc ... strike missions could become a lifestyle.

Greg has seen a lot change in surfing over the span of his life. From starting out at a time when the introduction of legropes caused major schisms in surfing circles, he has witnessed the birth of professional surfing, the transformation of backyard businesses into international brands, the growth of surf tourism, the age of the sponsored free-surfer and the expansion of surfing into its various power-assisted and highly specialised genres and sub-genres. Just as the humble legrope unexpectedly brought about a fundamental shift in how and where we surf, new pressures and new technology have expanded the scope of surfing and changed how and where we surf yet again. We talked a little about the way things are now.

The IT revolution, with the advent of smartphones, social media and instant global communication, has been felt world-wide - Kauai is no exception – and short of the collapse of western civilization, there’s no going back to a time before. The local Kauai policy of no photos, no publicity may have been enforceable in the 70s and 80s, but in the 21st century, exposure is inevitable, and it seems that’s especially so if it’s unwanted.

Yes. The trouble today is that nothing happens without photographic evidence and pictures tell a thousand words. I’m less affected by this on the road, but I tend to be pretty quiet about my backyard. Though it affects me less now. I’m finding that the standard surfers’ taste in waves and priorities can rapidly change, especially if a few friends find it the place to be. Every year is different. Sandbars, swell direction, winds – they all seem to run in groups that will send surfers from one place to another, chasing the in-vogue spots of the moment.

On Kauai we have serious issues with the use of jet skis during High Surf events. It can be a real issue. Because of our round island, the swells can wrap which - means a lot of the jet-skis end up tow surfing the same waves 50 paddle surfers are riding. An example is a place I surfed for 25 years without a ski around. It’s much like Kirra, with a strong sweep, long walks up the point and long paddles. Now I can’t surf there. It’s just too much a scene. I’ve had waves that I was on and in the barrel and 100 yards down the beach a jet-ski goes and U-turns to swing a guy in. Well, I have ridden right up to the wall of water from their tow-in turn. Hitting water that fast inside big barrels leads to bashings on my back on the bottom. Complete floggings. I have never surfed there again with skis out. Don’t get me wrong. I love tow-ins in the right big-wave situations. I have towed in on days surfers are not out on outer reefs. That’s a different animal, but jet-skis and paddle surfing are not compatible. It’s a complete change in vibe and the tow guys never get less greedy, it’s always more, more, more. I’ve spent a long time campaigning for issues in my surfing on Kauai. From military beach access after 9-11 to Anti-Federal Marine Sanctuary expansions to advocating for jet-ski enforcement in surf areas. The threats continue to grow.

Part two coming soon.

Words: Rob Harwood (legless.tv wordsmith)

Images supplied by Greg

#greg holzman #buddy mccray #blast kneeboards #legless.tv #leglesstv #Rob Harwood #kneeboard surfing #kneeboarding #kneeboardsurfing #kneeboard Hawaii

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awed-frog · 8 years ago

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(1/2) Hi! I hope you're not so busy and if you are then no problem, answer this when you can. I'm writing fanfiction, and I do it in a lot of POVs so I put a LOT of effort in every character and I found out with this that I don't know Sam as much as I thought. Would you give an advice for him? I rewatched some episodes, but it's so difficult to see what he thinks sometimes. I guess that's a part of him too, and for now I'm working in the ways he sees everyone

(2/2) When he talks about Dean, for examples, there is a shadow of how a son sees a father, and he’s very worried about him (things of my plot) But when he’s with Cas he sees him a little like anchor bc he is friend, and after all the things they went through (giving his trust to Ruby) he has another but beautiful bond with him. And there is Gabriel (not Sabriel) which is the most difficult, the only thing I have sure it’s that he’s doesn’t trust him and he can’t forgive him Mystery Spot

Hi! Congrats on writing fanfiction and yay for the effort and the frustration of trying to understand what the different characters are going through!

When it comes to Sam, I think none of us knows him as we thought we did, simply because they’re not giving us a whole lot to write about. Sam used to be the POV character for Supernatural (well, not exactly, but close enough) and he had a coherent story and character arc which basically ended at the end of S5. Since then, who he is and what he wants have been a bit of a mystery. I know that I find it difficult to write from his POV as well, and when I do, I normally mix in my own headcanon about him (for instance, I’m a big fan of the idea he can feel Lucifer thinking about him, or, at least, a sort of weight when Lucifer is nearby - which, as we know, sadly just isn’t the case).

So I don’t know how useful this is going to be, but here are some thought about Sam from a writing perspective.

First of all, you need to find a register and a specific language for him. Sam’s register is usually a bit higher than Dean’s; he doesn’t banter all that much, never seems to flirt or say inappropriate things for no reason, won’t use popular culture for his metaphors, relying instead on clean, straightforward explanations.

Also, you’re right that he and Dean have a weird relationship, but I’m not sure how much insight Sam actually has into how and why. He seems to be determined not to let Dean down, and there are some very transparent ways in which he seems to consider Dean more of a parent than a brother - for instance, Dean apparently irons (and occasionally cooks) for him, Sam has no interest in hearing about Dean’s sex life but will share his own, and so on.

Something else I consider a defining characteristic for Sam is how much he fools himself into believe he’s a ‘head choice’ kind of guy - he seems to think, time and again, that the end justifies the means and that any sacrifice is acceptable if it results in a greater good, when in fact we know perfectly well that when faced with any kind of hard decision that will put other people in harm’s way, Sam will choose to help them regardless of consequences. And the reason I put that in italics is because when it comes to himself, Sam is so self-effacing as to be almost suicidal - to me, it’s not exactly clear if it’s a lack of self-esteem, a genuine desire to be done with this life one way or another, or simply the need to be ‘clean’ by any means necessary.

(Another possible explanation is to be found in the ‘no shades of grey’ syndrome that’s shaped the character from the very start. Unlike Dean, who’s always been outstanding in his talent to negotiate and compromise and pretend he’s not, Sam is an either/or kind of person. This explains why he was so dismayed to see Dean hunting with other people and, perhaps, why he doesn’t see an alternative to hunting so determinedly and efficiently that he ends up dying for ‘the cause’.)

Sam is also a strange mess of martyrdom and arrogance - my guess is that he’s still extremely insecure about himself and his place in the world, so he sort of takes it out on people he’s sure are inferior to him (but secretly fears could be better than him, because he’s carrying the original stigma: caused his mother’s death, vessel for Lucifer, etc). For instance, look at how snotty he is with Crowley, or how he didn’t think those prison convicts deserved saving back in S2. The thing is, I sometimes feel Sam is still being coded as a teenager, and those years are the moment when a need for classification comes out in the clearest way: you desperately need to define yourself and to be absolutely sure you’re good enough and ‘normal’ enough, and that’s why you end up building (subconscious) categories of people who’re ‘better’ than you (some celebrities, a few classmates, that one teacher you’ve got a crush on) and people who’re ‘worse’ than you (definitely your lame parents, who really don’t get it, and also those who display ‘unforgivable’ behaviour - listening to the wrong kind of music, supporting the wrong political ideas, caring about the environment, not caring about the environment, clubbing, not clubbing, having sex, not having sex - you get it). Narratively, it sometimes feels Sam is still stuck in this stage; this was extremely obvious in the first seasons and has since been watered down.

(Sadly, accepting who you are and that are things about yourself you can’t change and that’s okay and that other people, especially your parents, are trying their best and are not perfect is roughly how you become an adult, and Sam’s not there yet.)

And finally, we know Sam needs to relate other people’s lives to his own in order to make sense of them - the famous empathy vs sympathy debate that’s been going on on tumblr for a while and I find endlessly fascinating.

Now, as to how best to translate these things into writing - good luck.

As I said, I find Sam an incredibly difficult character to write. I like writing about his relationship with Lucifer, but as to other antagonists like Crowley or Gabriel - who even knows. Personally, I don’t think Sam would be all that pissed at Gabriel (if your story is set now, that is, and Gabriel is magically back) because I think Gabriel dying for them would have wiped the slate clean. He would be wary around him, however, because Gabriel, like Lucifer, has shown he understands Sam deeply and intimately and better, perhaps, than even Dean ever did; which, for a secretive person like Sam, is the ultimate nightmare. I think this also defines his relationship with Cas - unlike Dean, who prefers to forget Cas is not actually human, Sam would remember who and what Cas is (hence that famous ‘it’s a strong vessel’ fight), and also the fact Cas has probably seen Sam inside and out on several occasions. I mean, in the very beginning, Cas would have had a) no shame or hesitation in delving inside the Winchesters’ minds and b) an overt interest in doing so to better understand them and, if needed, keep them in check. And we know the first thing he noticed about Sam was not his faith and his good, gentle heart, but the fact he wasn’t ‘clean’: the boy with the demon blood, he called Sam, refusing to shake his hand. And, sure, things have changed since then (that moment in S9 when Cas told Sam nothing was worth losing him was absolutely crucial, in my opinion), but the relationship between them - that’s still complicated. Cas, after all, is a living and breathing reminder of how little Sam’s faith is even worth, and of the fact there’s someone else who could be there for Dean and be Dean’s family if it came to that (which is both reassuring and scary af).

So, I don’t know. I’m not saying Sam is conscious of all these things (in fact, I’m convinced he isn’t), and as I said, I’m not exactly sure how to insert all this mess into a POV. My advice is, follow the story, don’t force yourself on it. Maybe you think you need all those POVs, or you want to challenge yourself and make it work, or else, but in my experience bloody-mindedness is not the best way forward. If you’ve given a chapter an honest try and it still doesn’t work or flow as easily as the rest of the story, it means you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you’re just not meant to write from Sam’s POV (at least in this story, because this story doesn’t need it), and that’s definitely not the end of the world: the character can still shine through, and very clearly at that, from another person’s POV. For instance, I’m a big fan of 91 Whiskey, and while I somehow regret we don’t see Dean’s POV all that much, I find that Cas’ observation of Dean’s mood and behaviour is plenty enough to know Dean in a very intimate way - maybe a lot better than if he’d told the story himself. People lie, after all, which means their POV is often not as revelatory about who they are as it should be.

#ask #spn meta #sam meta #sam winchester #spn fanfiction #writing tips #to moose or not to moose #this is the question

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oswald-hanciles-posts · 5 years ago

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The Guardian

The urgency of climate crisis needed robust new language to describe it

Paul Chadwick

Changes to how the Guardian writes about climate announced by Katharine Viner prompted a discussion with readers

Sun 16 Jun 2019 14.00 EDT

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Initial reader response was positive to the Guardian’s recent changes to the way it will refer to climate. “This is an epic struggle of ideas, crucial to our future,” wrote one aye-sayer. The announcement by editor-in-chief, Katharine Viner, of five changes to the style guide generated reaction in media and science. For each change (in bold below) I asked Viner for her reasons, which follow here in italics. She began by reiterating that “none of the old terms is banned. If in a particular circumstance the original term is clearly more appropriate, then it should be used. But the preference is for the new terms.”

Use climate emergency, crisis or breakdown instead of climate change

Huge-scale and immediate action is needed to slash emissions but they are still going up – that’s an emergency or crisis. Extreme weather is increasing and climate patterns established for millennia are changing – hence breakdown.

Use global heating instead of global warming

Global heating is more scientifically accurate … Greenhouse gases form an atmospheric blanket that stops the sun’s heat escaping back to space.

Use wildlife instead of biodiversity

Biodiversity is not a common or well understood term, and is a bit clinical when you are talking about all the creatures that share our planet.

Use fish populations instead of fish stocks

This change emphasises that fish do not exist solely to be harvested by humans – they play a vital role in the natural health of the oceans.

Use climate science denier or climate denier instead of climate sceptic

Very few experts are, in good faith, truly sceptical of climate science, or of the necessity for strong climate action. Those arguing against it are denying the overwhelming evidence that the climate crisis exists.

An ugent global issue … Extinction Rebellion protest in London on Friday.Photograph: Ollie Millington/Getty Images

Climate crisis seriously damaging human health, report finds

Readers took the discussion further, and I put some of their suggestions (bold) to Viner for her responses (italics).

“Wildlife” is insufficient to describe “biodiversity”

A reasonable argument … biodiversity is not banned, if it’s clearly the best term, then use it … wildlife is a much more accessible word and is fair to use in many stories.

“Carbon emissions” should be “carbon dioxide emissions”

“Carbon dioxide emissions” is technically correct, but a commonly used shorthand, “greenhouse gas emissions”, is even better if we’re talking about all gases that warm the atmosphere, ie including methane, nitrogen oxides, CFCs etc.

Consider “climate instability” instead of “climate heating”

“Global heating”and “climate breakdown” serve the same purpose as “climate instability”.

Not heating, overheating

“Overheating” implies a judgment about how much is too much. I think that judgment is captured by “climate crisis, emergency, breakdown”.

I support Viner’s direction of travel. She is harnessing the power of language usage to focus minds on an urgent global issue. One challenge for the Guardian and the Observer will be to weigh, in specific journalistic contexts, two sometimes competing aspects of terminology used in public debates: language as description, and language as exhortation.

• Paul Chadwick is the Guardian’s readers’ editor

☝🏾Sierra Leone is part of Africa....

Sierra Leone is part of planet earth...

Sierra Leoneans; Africans... are human species... : we operate by the same rules as the Germans, Chinese, Japanese, Americans...

Global warming and man-made Climate Change would affect us like it does other people. Well, it would affect Africans worse than other peoples - less water to drink; less food to eat; more drought; more flooding; more conflicts; more wars...

Sadly, Africans are the least prepared with Climate Change Adaptation and Mitigation measures. Why?

Africa's leadership.

Africa's leadership forget too easily the past - they have forgotten the four hundred years of the Atlantic Slave Trade; the about a century of European colonization of Africa. They have even forgotten the 1970s era of coups in Africa; and the 1980s and 1990s era of nasty and brutish civil wars in countries like Sierra Leone and Liberia.

Africa's leadership appear incapable of a vision for the unfolding Climate Change future; they appear unable to shed childish egoism; are puffed up to too easily by demonic egotism - and cannot see that only in UNITY will Africa prevent the nightmarish scenarios being predicted by credible scientific institutions and credible scientists around around the globe. African Unity must grow beyond meetings of Africa's leaders in conference halls.

THE OSWALD HANCILES COLUMN

Sierra Leone must unite with Liberia and Nigeria. Nigeria must see its green interest the same as Cameroon and D.R. Congo and Rwanda. We must mentally bring down the political boundaries carved for Africa at the Conference of Berlin in 1884/1885 - at the end of four centuries of the Atlantic Slave Trade.

Again: no single African country has the resources alone to measure up to the magnitude of the emerging caprices of Climate Change.

Generally, the African leadership luxuriate in affluent neighbourhoods in a few cities. They are cocooned in air-conditioned offices pecking on computer keyboards. They see the future only as how to protect themselves and their families. They care very little for the people they avow to be providing leadership for. We must goad and spur this African leadership into Green Preventative War Mode now - war-type-mode of planting of trees; use of green energy, etc. But that will not be enough...

For one billion Africans, I demand "$2 trillion annually for man-made Climate Change Adaptation and Mitigation measures in Africa from the richest nations of the world". It's the only way. The $2trillion sum which will include Reparations for the Atlantic Slave Trade. It will include payment for the rape and plunder of Africa for almost a century by European colonialists.

Join us in the SLAVE SHIP-FREEDOM SHIP movement. Let's sail for FREEDOM - for Africans; for all humanity.

I pause,

Oswald Hanciles, The Guru.

June 17, 2019

03:08 hours in Freetown, Sierra Leone

0 notes

click2watch · 6 years ago

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Gas Ain’t Gold: Why Ether’s Price Could Tank Even If Ethereum Succeeds

Michael J. Casey is the chairman of CoinDesk’s advisory board and a senior advisor for blockchain research at MIT’s Digital Currency Initiative.

The following article originally appeared in CoinDesk Weekly, a custom-curated newsletter delivered every Sunday exclusively to our subscribers.

The virtuous circle that saw buyers of ethereum-based ERC-20 tokens drive ether’s price above $1,400 mid-January has morphed into its diametric opposite.

The initial coin offering boom has fizzled and the price has sunk to just above $200.

This new phase, a vicious cycle downturn that has exposed the ether market’s intrinsic connection to the ICO boom and bust, is of course painful for anyone who bought ether in the last 12 months.

But in the spirit of encouraging the crypto community to embrace failure as a real-world source of learning and growth, the experience is also incredibly informative for understanding how value is formed and lost in crypto assets attached to blockchain platforms.

This dynamic is still being figured out. However, a strong hypothesis is emerging that the correlation between the price of a token such as ether and its actual or expected network utility —that’s is, its value as the “fuel” in a blockchain ecosystem — might not be very strong.

This is challenging for anyone who, like me, was initially enthusiastic about the “fat protocol thesis.” As a recap, that idea, convincingly made by Union Square Ventures partner Albert Wenger, held that the prospect of rising prices for utility tokens allows developers of open-access software platforms to extract value for their work even when the underlying protocol is open and free.

It argued that crypto assets and blockchains would overhaul the prevailing Internet paradigm in which value could only be extracted by application developers who could charge users for their services whereas the developers of open-access protocols such as SMTP an HTTP were condemned by the requirement that they be free of charge.

But now we’re left wondering whether tokens, these units of value/mediums of exchange – call them what you will – might have their upside fiat-currency monetization power capped because price could be antithetical to utility (which we might define as “transactability.”)

In Money, Bad Trumps Good

In essence, the problem has to do with Gresham’s Law that “bad money drives out good” – the idea being that if you want a currency, or any token used for economic exchange, to function as a fluid enabler of transactions within your community, you don’t want it to be overly attractive as an investment or store of value.

If a currency has that “good” quality – i.e. is durable, fungible, scarce, and can’t be debased by some centralized issuer – it will appeal more as something to hold rather than use.

This has fueled the idea among mainstream economists that there’s a sweet spot in which the interests of a community – but not necessarily those of the individual – are best served by their money being just a bit “bad.” There needs to be some modest expectation of depreciation or inflation if a currency is to be trading. Communities need people to be willing to offload their currency rather than hoard it.

Milton Friedman, the father of monetarist economics, said as much, arguing that a very modest amount of expected, inflationary monetary expansion is desirable. It’s by no means an argument for currency debasement and rampant abuse of fiat power. It’s about optimizing exchangeability versus investment prospects.

I’ve argued elsewhere that this might be a problem for bitcoin, not for HODLing investors per se but in whether it can ever challenge the dominant fiat currencies as a medium of exchange. Bitcoin is a very “good” currency in terms of its scarcity and incorruptibility, which means its store of value qualities trump its transactional utility.

Many bitcoin enthusiasts dispute this view, arguing that after establishing itself as a solid store of value, a currency can then become useful as a transactional unit. Time will tell whether they are right, but for now I think the store of value treatment of bitcoin is winning out.

Notwithstanding its massive price drop since December, anyone who bought into bitcoin in the eight years before its runup last fall will quite satisfied with the returns they’ve had by just holding it. By contrast, real-world, non-capital transactions are few and far between. Layer Two solutions such as Lightning will make transactions easier, but I’m not convinced that this scarce “good” currency will become widely transacted.

Can Ether Have Reservation Demand?

What does all this have to with ether?

Well, as Vijay Boyapati laid out in a provocative tweetstorm, ethereum’s smart contract functionality depends on people using and transacting in ether. That’s what ether’s metaphorical identity as the “gas” of ethereum is all about. But Boyapati said that’s antithetical to the concept of “reservation demand,” a measure of how long people hold a currency and the core driver of the price of a monetary unit.

For the brief period of ICO mania last year, Boyaparti argued, ether suddenly attracted reservation demand because investors needed to acquire and hold a store of ether to participate in the ongoing flow of ERC-20 token offerings.

But now that flow has stopped. The issuers of those tokens who really just wanted dollars to fund their operations — not a store of ether with which to conduct smart contracts — are now faced with an existential threat if they don’t dump the rapidly falling ethereum tokens they hold. Hence the conversion of a virtuous circle into a vicious circle.

Jeremy Rubin, a Stellar developer and former MIT colleague of mine, argued in a TechCrunch piece that these and other aspects of the ethereum ecosystem could drive the price of ether to zero.

A key point of Rubin’s was that issuers of tokens that trade on top of ethereum can and will be incentivized to build models in which their smart contract network is managed not by transactions in the underlying “gas” of ether but by the incentives baked into trading in their own token.

The piece stirred up a lot of emotion, including a rebuttal of this “economic abstraction” argument from ethereum founder Vitalik Buterin.

Where Does Value Meet Price?

I’m not convinced of Rubin’s argument that the price is destined for zero even if, as he assumes, ethereum ends up succeeding as a ubiquitous smart contracts platform that enables world-changing dapps.

In essence, I think there is some natural base level of reservation demand that will always be there for a unit of exchange that makes a powerful blockchain tick. And it’s hard not to imagine that this level of demand increases if and when ethereum moves to a proof-of-stake consensus mechanism. At some point, utility value does correlate with price, just not with nearly the same direct relationship that people have assumed.

This debate is very important. If a disconnect is established between utility value and price, it will greatly affect how participants in token markets generally treat the assets they are trading. Note, however, that might actually encourage the development of dapps that are all about functionality and not just fronts for quick money-grabbing efforts by crypto startup founders.

The jury is also still out on the whether etheruem, or any blockchain platform, is even successful at all. But I look at the incredibly inventive community of ethereum developers toying around with wonderful new ideas for a better world and find it very difficult not to conclude that, in some as yet undefined way, they are creating a great deal of value.

It’s just that, sadly for those who thought otherwise, that concept of value might be inherently at odds with the concept of price — at least as it is defined in fiat currencies. And that’s a topic for another day…

Ether and gold image via Shutterstock

The leader in blockchain news, CoinDesk is a media outlet that strives for the highest journalistic standards and abides by a strict set of editorial policies. CoinDesk is an independent operating subsidiary of Digital Currency Group, which invests in cryptocurrencies and blockchain startups.

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