#and he DID set it up as a mystery to be solved let's not lie

[goldenkid]

my latent rtd haterisms emerging after that season finale

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[haine-kleine]

how about a canon divergence where Dabi didn't have to deal with the humiliation of sharing his deepest traumas in an effort to make the general public be more critical of the heroes and wasn't as a result condemned for his sincerity and made a scapegoat not only for the Todoroki family but now for the entire Japan.

let his plan be more refined than traumadumping on tv and don't make him paint a giant target on his own back he will never be able to get rid off by revealing his identity to everyone. let him act according to his knowledge of endeavor and manipulate him, let his plan have an end goal and not be a last desperate scream for sympathy and attention to the horrors he went through.

say, instead of a broadcast he releases a video on an online platform. in that video he starts telling the life story of Todoroki Touya, Endeavor's eldest son who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. he says that ten years ago he found that little boy all alone, crying his eyes out on Sekoto peak. that boy was so pathetically lonely and desperate for validation he told him his entire life story. little Touya was so heartbroken he said that Endeavor abandoned him, didn't want to have a son he couldn't train to become a hero, his quirk and body incompatible, set up from the start by unfortunate quirk marriage. he begged Dabi to kill him. and so he did just that. the oh so fast and efficient number two hero was so slow to the rescue of his own son, by the time he got there only ashes remained of him, and oh how loudly Touya screamed for him...

Dabi has white hair in that video. it's a challenge - one he knows Enji won't take. he knows that his death was a mystery no one has been able to solve, and he presents an answer. it's a lie, of course, but it still hurts seeing how eagerly Endeavor jumps at the offered out. well, at least his little stunt gave even more publicity to the League, propelling him from a nobody of a villain to the one number two hero has personal vendetta with. the attention is nice, really.

when he comes to take the noumu and Endeavor almost kills him on sight, he almost chokes himself on his laughter without any help from his father.

'i will tell you a secret, Endeavor. not even Shigaraki knows this, so consider yourself special', he drawls and points to the noumu's charred remains. 'these things, you know what they're made of? top secret info, right here!'.

he takes his sweet time making a pause for dramatic effect, his insides fluttering at the look of pure hatred on his father's burned, bleeding face.

'the raw material is children with strong quirks. Touya was quite a find, you know!'.

he can't help grinning at how quickly anger transforms into shock.

'he is... alive?' the unbelieving, earnest hope that Enji can't contain despite his caution makes his glee turn sour.

Dabi wants to spread his arms wide, do a twirl, maybe, push his hair away from his face. 'Look at me, Endeavor!' he wants to scream at his father, an ancient unanswered prayer to his idol, 'look at me and see me!'.

the fight in him is gone. he shrugs, and calls for Ujiko.

'dunno', he replies to Enji before leaving. 'far as i know they're still keeping him'.

later, when when a visibly ruffled Shigaraki asks him why is he doing this to himself, Dabi bites on his tongue but can't hide the steam that starts coming out of his seams. he still does a good job of pretending to be unbothered and with all of Compress' flair says:

'why, it's all for the sake of the League's glory, of course'.

Shigaraki, in turn, doesn't even bother hiding his expressive eye roll.

[spectralscathath]

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 2- Blue Light Fright Night

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a party-hating ghost, not new friends and new enemies, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

"I can't believe it," Ford scowled as he restocked the snowglobe shelf. Little mini Mystery Shacks mocked him as they sat beside glass-encased Waddleses. How did Grunkle Dipper even get question mark-shaped glitter for these? "Gnomes on our first day- then we don't see jack!"

"Maybe we fought the gnomes so well they told the rest of the forest to be scared of us?" Stan polished the body parts jars on the other side of the aisle. 

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit."

"Hey-" Stan kicked him in the shin. Ford kicked back without thinking, focused on trying to get all the snowglobes lined up perfectly. "Maybe we're just looking in the wrong places? It's only been three days since gnome-pocalypse."

"We're not calling it 'gnome-pocalypse'. It was only a hundred or so gnomes. An apocalypse would require at least a thousand." He was rounding down as well. 

"Fine. What are we gonna call it then?"

"Uh-" 

"So are you guys coming to the party tonight?" Carla interrupted as she came around the corner, her nametag pinned to the front of her pink shirt and a flower in her hair. 

"Party?" Ford looked at her, setting down the final snowglobe. 

"Yeah!" Carla beamed and did a little dance in place, hopping from one foot to the other. "It's at the high school gym- the local sheriff sets up one every month for all the teens and it's super fun. You should totally come and meet all my friends- it'll be awesome!"

Ford's breath caught in his throat, an indescribable mixture of wonder and excitement filling him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. A real invitation to a real party. They'd never had one before! And here Carla was, offering an invitation like they were normal . Like it didn't matter that Ford had six fingers and Stan had the school record for detentions. 

"Yeah, we'll definitely be there!" He blurted out immediately, unwilling to let the opportunity of a lifetime slip by. "Wow, this is so exciting- Stanley, our first party!"

"Have you… never been to a party before?" Carla's face fell. 

" Pfft - of course we have," Stanley jumped in, waving a hand. "He just means in Gravity Falls, yunno. Jersey parties are really different so-"

"Oh, totally. But get ready, a Gravity Falls party is gonna knock your socks off!" Carla was all smiles again. Ford could see the reason why Grunkle Dipper had her as a cashier, she had a very upbeat demeanour that seemed popular with the tourists. The way she talked to them, able to get them smiling and laughing and telling her stories about their travels, she made it look so easy. Like talking to people was easy. Ford wondered how she did it. 

Maybe if he asked, she'd let him observe and record her interactions for science?

"Earth to Sixer-" Stanley poked him in the face and Ford spluttered, swatting at his hand. "You okay in there?"

'I'm fine!" Ford looked around and adjusted his glasses. "Where'd Carla go?"

"A tour finished so she's gone to do her charm offensive on getting them to buy junk," Stan shrugged. "Are you sure you want to go to a party?"

"Yeah!" Was that even a question? "Don't you? Why did you lie to Carla? We've never been invited anywhere before."

"Listen, Fordsy," Stanley put an arm around his shoulders. "When people invite you to do stuff you haven't done, you gotta pretend you have, or else they'll think 'wow, what kinda losers are those guys, never going to parties'. You wanna be in the in-crowd, go along with the popular decision if you don't wanna stand out."

"How do you know that?" Ford scrunched his nose. It seemed unnecessarily complicated, wouldn't honesty be the best policy in any conversation?

"Just makes sense," Stan shrugged. "Now Carla won't be thinking, 'those guys must be lame', she'll be thinking we're cool dudes back home."

"But we're not?"

"Yeah, but you shouldn't say that." Stan patted his back. "Do you really wanna go?"

"Of course! This is a chance to meet the wider population of Gravity Falls, and I bet with all the anomalies in this area, I won't even be the weirdest thing anyone's seen today!" He'd always wanted to go to a party. Like a regular kid. Maybe Gravity Falls wasn't so bad. 

"You're not weird," Stan scowled. "If any of them give you trouble I'll hit them."

"Stanley, mom said one week. You still have three more days." Ford reminded him. 

"Blegh-" Stanley stuck out his tongue. "Now we just gotta convince Grunkle Dipper to let us go."

"Why would we need to convince him? Surely he'll understand how important this is to our preteen social development."

#

"Not a chance." Dipper didn't even look up from the pasta sauce he was stirring. 

"What?!" They yelled in unison, Ford looking like all his dreams crashed and burned and Stan slamming his hands on the kitchen table. He hid a wince. Toughen up, Stan. Be a man. 

"It's a cop party, no nephews of mine are going to a cop party." 

"Grunkle Dipper, do you have something against cops?" Stan had to ask.

"I didn't agree to more questions."

So the answer was a yes. Cool. 

"But Grunkle Dipper-" Ford whined. "We've never been to a party before and we told Carla we'd be there. Please?"

"Okay, here's the thing." Dipper turned around and pointed his pasta spoon at them, pajama pants and a threadbare sweater on. It was silly. It had a puppy on it. "Grenda throws these parties once a month for all the teens in town, and because everyone's kids are there, all the townsfolk treat it as a social event. It's loud, annoying, and seriously not worth your time."

"But we could be party rocking in the house tonight." Ford said it with all the sincerity in his soul and Stan wanted to know how his nerd of a brother had found out about songs that weren't from the 1700s or whenever.

"What?" Dipper's face scrunched before he shook it off and went back to mixing pasta sauce and spaghetti. "Let me explain: I don't 'like' or 'trust' most of the people in this town, and the feeling's pretty mutual. Why don't you just have a party here? This is a house, it can- it can 'party rock'."

"Can we invite people?" Ford perked up.

"No."

"Grunkle Dipper!"

Stan hid a snort-laugh as he watched, studying Dipper more so than Ford, head tilted to make sure he didn't miss anything. There had to be a magic word of some sort to get him to agree. He didn't trust the townspeople, hey?

"If you don't like anyone here-" he cut off Ford's rant about the 'psychosocial development of twelve-year-old brains' before it really got going- "then the smartest option is to bring us into town when everyone's gonna be there." Stan shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, playing up the casualness. 

Dipper looked at him with suspicion. "What's your game, kid?"

"That way you can point out who to avoid and who we should keep an eye on so we can recognise them. I mean, we're gonna need to go into town eventually, might as well get it over with."

"... Alright, that's not a bad point." Dipper nodded, brow furrowed. Stan gave him an absolutely angelic smile, well practiced for when mom busted out the camera for family photos, and Dipper's brows furrowed harder.

"So can we go? Carla invited us as well, it would look bad if we went back on our word. And you said you wanted us to have a good summer."

"Okay, okay, okay." Dipper groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, serving up three plates of spaghetti as he joined them at the table. "You can go, but if Sheriff Grenda asks about me, tell her I'm dead or whatever."

"Yes!" Stan punched the air. "Yes!"

"What?! How is that the conclusion of this?" Ford looked stunned, mouth hanging open.

"Your brother drives a hard bargain, kid," Dipper pointed with a plastic spork. All his cutlery was plastic and Stan thought it was weird, no metal, no forks. But  it was the durable, colourful kind used for camping. "Eat your pasta and we'll get this over with."

Stan shoveled the pasta into his mouth, enjoying the taste of victory. Whaddaya know, for once Stan got them the win. That was never gonna happen again.

#

Ford's excitement only grew as they drove into town, staring out the window and trying to see anomalies in the dark. Stan kicked the back of the empty passenger seat and tossed his head back with a groan. "Why are we listening to BABBA?" 

"Because I love this song." Grunkle Dipper turned it up a notch and sang along, badly. Ford winced at the falsetto of "Dis-co Girl! Coming through! That girl is you!"

"Get me outta here!" Stan's next kick used both feet. "If you're listening, save me, Paul Bunyan!"

"Calm down, Stanley, we're almost there!" Ford could see all the cars parked outside the high school, and a giant RV with GIDEON across the side that towered over everything else. "What's that?"

"First people in this town you need to avoid: Gideon Gleeful and his lil b-" Dipper growled, cutting himself off before continuing- "Bud Gleeful. Gideon's the worst, they're just a creepy pair. Just got back from touring America with their fake psychic act."

"Okay." A fake psychic. Just like their mom. Ford missed her, she promised she'd call every week but it didn't feel like enough. "Anyone else?"

"Preston Northwest is about your age and a piece of work?" 

"I thought you'd have more enemies." Stan grinned mischievously.

"Those are just the child ones." Dipper hooked an elbow over his seat and looked back as he reversed into a parking space, wearing one of the baseball caps from the gift shop with a pine tree logo. His denim jacket and pajama pants clashed terribly with his 'dog playing basketball' sweater. Ford hadn't seen him wear the same sweater twice, but they all looked decades old, handknitted, and far too irrational for him. Perhaps he had some ancient sweater collection?

"How many adult enemies are there?" Stan unclipped his seatbelt as the truck stopped. 

"Don't you have a party to go to?" Dipper waved a hand at them. "Have fun and don't die or something. I'll be here when you want to leave."

"Thanks, Grunkle Dipper!" They chorused and hopped out, Stan racing around to Ford's side of the truck. 

"You ready?" He took Ford's hand for a second, and Ford snatched it back, trying not to think about his hands. It was gonna be fine, this wasn't Jersey. People here would like him. 

"Race you in?" He offered instead, shoving his hands into his pockets just in case. 

"You're on." Stan grinned and took off. He might have been better at punching, but they were both pretty fast from a childhood of dodging bullies. Usually it was a tie. 

This time Ford got there first by mere seconds and paused, able to feel the thud of the music inside in his ribcage. Of course- soundwaves were physical, that only made sense. He was about to lift his hand from his pocket before hesitating. His first party. Did he want to start off with a bad impression?

Stan caught up and pushed open the door. "After you, Sixer."

Ford smiled gratefully at him, stepping in as the smell of dry ice and cheese flavouring hit him. The gym was big, all the bleachers tucked away, and while there was no disco ball, someone had set up projector lights that sent rainbow shapes and lazers everywhere. The room was surprisingly full, and Ford had a sinking feeling they arrived late. "Were we meant to be here earlier?"

"Don't worry- it's cool to arrive late, I heard." Stanley stuck by his side as they stood in the doorway. "Should we find Carla? She's the only person we know here, I think."

Ford had a thought. A bit of a mean thought. Did he want his first impression on people to be Stanley as well? Not that Stanley was bad, Ford loved his brother more than anything, but his nicknames might give people the wrong idea, and the other way around- Maybe Stan would want to meet people without having to talk for Ford as well?

"We can split up, do a sweep on each side, and meet on the other end of the gym." He felt guilty saying it, but he couldn't help being interested in what would happen if he made introductions on his own for once. It was an experiment. 

"See who spots her first so we can talk to her, good idea." Stanley nodded. "Race you there."

He took off through the crowd to the right, leaving Ford to his own business and taking the other. He didn't move as fast as Stanley, keeping his hands in his pockets as he avoided the major crowd and skirted the edges. His head swivelled like an owl's as he looked around, trying to see anyone who might be safe to talk to. 

He saw something sparking near the wall and immediately remembered the various dangers of electrical hazards, resolving to check it and report it to the nearest grown-up- oh, but if that was Sheriff Grenda, Grunkle Dipper said not to talk to her-

Ford didn't really want to do what Dipper said, but… what if he got angry at them for disobeying?

More sparks. He blinked, regaining his focus, and sped up, noticing they were tucked beside the folded bleachers, hard for people in the crowd to see, hidden by the fog of dry ice. 

There was someone there. Two someones. Ford drew closer, in time to see a blowtorch light up and be lowered to a piece of metal. 

"What are you doing?" He blurted out, the two teenagers looking at him. It was hard to make out clear details in the dark hall, but the one leaning against the wall held a plastic bag of sliced bread, and the boy on the floor had a welding visor over his face. 

"Hi there!" The boy stood and flipped his welding mask up, revealing round glasses, a thin face, a long nose, and a friendly smile. "I'm Fiddleford McGucket, local inventor."

"You're an inventor?" Ford smiled. "Me too! I mean- I'm branching out into the field, I'm currently working on a magnet gun."

"Well that sounds mathematically feasible, I reckon." Fiddleford offered a hand to shake, absolutely covered in bandages.

Ford stared at it. "Uh- won't that hurt if I touch it?"

"I've got an un-nat-ur-al-ly high tolerance to pain, doctors say," he laughed, singsonging each syllable in a playful Tennessee twang. "Don't mind the bandages, all from my thingamajig building."

Ford hesitated just a moment longer before he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook Fiddleford's hand.

"Why, that is a mighty fine case of polydactyly you got there." Fiddleford complimented. 

"Th- thanks." He stuttered, in utter shock. No one had ever actually complimented him on it before. Most people didn't even know the term. "You too- I mean- not polydactyly, just thanks?" 

"Thank you kindly, and this here's my friend, Tad."

"Hi, I'm Tad Strange." The deepness of the other boy's voice had Ford reeling. Was that natural? He looked barely older than Ford, with shiny black hair and very neat clothes. He had to be the most nondescript person Ford had ever seen. "Would you like some bread?"

"Uh- okay?" Ford took some of the offered bread. Plain white sliced, from a grocery store. Was he meant to eat this without anything on it? Well- okay, he could try. "Do you carry this everywhere?"

"Of course. It's my emergency bread."

"Oh. Cool?" It didn't seem normal, but maybe it was for Gravity Falls? His hypothesis was correct, he was an anomaly in a town of anomalies! He could fit in here! "I like your voice."

"Thank you." Tad smiled. Ford liked his diction, how deliberately he spoke, how even his voice was. It seemed so calm. "It broke when Tad Strange was seven."

"If we're talking about weird body things, I'm double-jointed?" Fiddleford offered and pulled out a pair of black goggles, a matching pair to the ones Tad had pushed up into his dark hair, hard to see. "Here, put these on, I'm working on improving Tad's phone. I reckon I can really spruce it up."

"Tad Strange would like jetpack capabilities." 

"Yeah! I'd love to help!" Ford's smile was so wide it hurt at the edges, so excited he feared he may explode. Not that it was scientifically possible. 

Was this how easy making friends could be? 

#

Stan plunged into the crowd like a superhero charged through henchmen, keeping his head cocked in case he heard Ford get in trouble. He had to be always ready for bullies, Ford could have all the hope he wanted, as long as Stanley protected him. 

He squinted through the dark, not able to see too much in the weird party lights, lots of pinks and blues and kinda dark. He didn't really like his glasses much when he had to wear them, they were nerdy and made bullies throw stuff at him. He could see most things anyway, just blurry, and as long as he could get the gist he could work with the rest. 'Sides, no point in him having glasses anymore, amount of fights he got in.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he swung without thinking, catching air. Carla's laugh was bright and cheery. "Easy, tiger! Didn't mean to surprise you."

"Sorry." Stan mumbled. He wasn't as noble as some of the boys back home, who didn't hit girls. Seemed insulting to Stan, if they wanted to fight they should get to fight. But Carla wasn't like the girls back home, he didn't want to hit her. 

"C'mon, my friends are this way." Carla took his hand and pulled him through the crowd. Her hand was warm around his, and she didn't even hesitate. Known him four days and still took his hand. Wow, she was nice.

She pulled him to the snacks table, piled high with chips and chocolates and one very big lady in a cop uniform serving punch. Carla let go of his hand and spun around to face him, her skirt twirling as the lazers made the sequin design on it sparkle, and Stan suddenly got why Shermie used to get so weird around girls. Holy Moses.

"Stanley Pines, meet my besties!" Carla gestured at the group. One girl was spinning in place with an eye closed, two boys were having a string cheese war that looked more like flirting than fighting, the other girl was filming, and the last boy was cheering everyone on. "That's Shandra, Susan, Daryl and Edwin, and Tyler! Everyone, this is Stan!"

"Hi." Stan nodded at them, getting a nod back from the girls and Tyler. 

"And- wait, where's your brother?" Carla looked worriedly at him. "Didn't he come?"

"Course he did! Just went to scope out some of the party," Stan played it off, even as he looked around. What if Ford was already getting picked on? "He'll catch up."

"Okay, cool!" Carla looked up over the crowd and brightened. Didn't seem possible but she managed it. "There's Bud! Hold on, I'll get him." She dove into the crowd again, leaving Stan with her friends and no idea what to do.

He grabbed a random bar of candy to eat to avoid having to make conversation, shoving it all in his mouth in one go. He accidentally made eye contact with the cop and looked away too fast. That was probably suspicious. What was it Grunkle Dipper said? Don't speak English to cops?

Carla came back to the group with a wave, her hand entwined with another boy's. "Okay everyone! I need to introduce you all to my new boyfriend, Bud Gleeful!"

Stan was real dumb. Shoulda seen that coming, obviously Carla had a boyfriend. Little weird that it was one of Grunkle Dipper's enemies, but it was Stan's own fault that he got all weird just because the prettiest, nicest girl he ever met thought he was worth being kind to. No point being disappointed because he got stupid. 

"What a delight to meet you all," Bud smiled cheerfully, his brown roots visibly showing through white hair dye. Stan turned his back and started eating more candy.

The other teens offered a chorus of uninterested 'hi's, still focused on their cheese fight. Looked like Blubs was winning, if the goal was to spray as much cheese as possible in his mouth? 

Stan was starting to get why Grunkle Dipper didn't bother with the town, he was not impressed so far. Except by Carla, but she worked in the Mystery Shack so she didn't count. 

"And who might you be, lil fella?" Bud drawled from behind Stan, which had his hackles up and his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Bud was twice his size, but so was Crampelter, and Stan had won that last fight. He wasn't weak and useless anymore, he wasn't the wimp that cried after just one hit, not now that he could fight.

He turned around, feet shifting into the stance from his boxing lessons as he looked up at the bigger teenager. "I'm Stan. Who wants to know?"

"Why, just 'lil ol me'-" he spoke it like a quote- "it's merely just- well, small towns, I tend to know near-everyone. But I don't recall seeing you here before."

"He and his twin are Dipper's nephews and they're in town for the summer," Carla smiled, clinging to Bud's arm. "They're here all the way from New Jersey, how cool is that?"

The other teens looked a bit more interested hearing that, looking at him like he was an oddity, something to gawk at. Was this how Ford felt? All the time? 

"Yeah, what about it?" 

"That's quite a distance," Bud whistled. "Would I be right in assuming you're staying in that old shack in the woods?"

"Where else would I stay, smart guy?" Stan mouthed off, focus narrowing to who else might be coming in for a sneak attack. Crampelter had friends, maybe Bud did too. "My Grunkle lives there."

"Yes, a so-called man of mystery," Bud clicked his tongue. "He's quite a shameless fraud, wouldn't you agree?"

"Coming from someone who's dad is a fake psychic?" Stan aimed for what would hurt, because it hurt when he thought about it. "What a liar, bet you can't trust anything he says."

Everyone gasped. But they didn't know. He loved his mom so much, so much , but she lied so much, just because, even when there was no reason. She didn't mean any harm, but… 

"Hey now, that's not true!" Bud snapped, getting angry, and Stan regretted saying anything when he saw the look on Carla's face. She looked at him like he said something bad. He did say something bad. He was a bad kid, everyone knew it. 

What was he doing? He was ruining the party, he was making everyone upset, and Ford wasn't here, Stan needed him and he wasn't here, and why did he instantly make it a fight? Because Dipper said not to trust someone?  What was wrong with him?!

He had to get out of here. He pulled a smoke bomb from his pocket and hoped and prayed he got it right- got something right- and threw it at the ground. 

It shattered with a flash and a POP! and sent up a cloud of smoke and sparkles that had everyone coughing, and Stan bolted. 

He ran, sticking to the walls and the shadows, passing a supply closet as he looked for Ford. Where was his brother? 

He was rounding the bleachers when he heard Ford laughing. At what? He slowed his steps, peeking around the corner to see Ford holding a blowtorch and soldering something, laughing and talking with two other boys. He looked like he was having a great time. Without Stanley.

Stan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, fists clenched tight and shaking with that energy he got in fights. Ford had some sciency name for it that Stan couldn't remember right now. 

Ford was fine. He found people who liked him. Just like he wanted. Stan was tempted to go over there and say hi- but if Ford wanted that wouldn't he have come and got Stanley? Ford always wanted to show off cool things he found, he dragged Stanley all over Glass Shard Beach, so this must mean Ford didn't want to show off his new friends. 

Stanley could take a hint. Heck- Ford would probably be better off with friends who were smart like him. Stan just caused trouble, everyone knew it. 

He backed away, genuinely considering sneaking out to go sit with Grunkle Dipper. Even if that meant listening to girly pop music. 

Actually-

Nah. Still not desperate enough for that. He still wasn't sure if Grunkle Dipper even wanted them around, Shermie had been the one to push for the trip. Even brought the bus tickets. 

Everyone else kept making decisions and Stan kept having to deal with them. He scowled and found the supply closet again, because at least Carla and Bud wouldn't find him in here if they wanted to get mad at him for causing problems. 

He closed the door behind him and shoved over the nearest thing, sending janitor supplies clattering to the ground as he yelled, just to get the energy out. "I never even wanted to come here! Ford did, not me!" 

He turned and punched the drywall. "I hate stupid parties!"

The drywall cracked. Cracked more. Fell away to reveal a big boxy safe hidden behind the plaster, rusted and covered in dust and cobwebs. Stan had a suddenly cold feeling, a looming sense that he'd done something very stupid. 

A girl's voice whispered in his ear.

"Me too."

#

The screaming started as Dipper chewed a pen, brainstorming new attractions for the track. He caught the smell of ectoplasm in the air, able to recognise it instantly, and shoved open the door to his truck, sprinting towards the gym as a pale glow began to surround the building. 

He could hear the panic of the townsfolk,  his focus set on the door as he raced the ghostly energy, trying to get in before it cut off the gym from the outside world. The boys were still in there.

"No, no, no, no-!" The ectoplasm covered the door right as he reached it, the handle chilling his fingers as he failed to yank it open. He kept trying to jiggle it open before he switched to banging his fists against the glass. "Kids!"

"My lil Buddy-boy!" He heard from behind him, Gideon Gleeful running in his bedazzled suit, his white pompadour bouncing with each step of his wingtip shoes.  Dipper ignored him and braced his shoulder against the door, trying to shove it open. Now wasn't the time to start fighting his nemesis. Maybe? He could multitask.

"Hold on, son!" Gideon panicked before turning to the crowd, hand on his bolo tie. "Everyone, please! I need you all to step back and let me use my psychic abilities! Step back, everyone!"

Dipper felt himself step back before he could snap at Gideon to back off, watching Gideon raise his hand to the building.

"Spirit! I compel thee! Release our children and be banished from this place!" Gideon's voice boomed out bombastically, bringing his TV psychic bravado to the real world.

Nothing happened.

Obviously.

"Oh no! Something's blocking my powers! My innate abilities! That I definitely have!"

"Yeah, yeah," Dipper snarled and pulled a glove from his pocket, yanking it on as he stomped to the door. "Hey, ghost! Open up!" 

He drew back his fist and punched the door, the ectoplasmic coating jiggling like jello before it started to wobble faster, energy building up. Bad sign.

Dipper had enough time to swear for real before the ghost blasted him away from the building and into darkness.

#

One minute Ford was helping solder an ignition wire, the next the walls were glowing and tables and chairs were floating in the air. Snacks were flying, aimed at people's heads as screams filled the air, and Tad had to struggle to hold onto his bread as it threatened to fly away too. 

"What's happening?" Fiddleford clutched his hands together, rubbing at his spindly fingers. The rest of the party were freaking out, some rushing the doors, others trying to hide, some freezing in fear. 

Ford? Ford felt alive . This was it, the weirdness he knew was here. 

"Hold on, I may have an answer-" but the diary was so uncool-looking, what if his new friends didn't want to be his friends because of it? 

"Ford!" That was Stanley! "Ford, Ford, Ford!"

"Over here!" He responded without hesitation, because that was his brother calling and Ford would always answer. 

Stan rounded the bleachers and skidded to a stop, worn sneakers nearly losing traction on the smooth gym floors. His eyes were wide and he almost looked scared. Couldn't be true though, Ford had documented Stan's phobias and fear responses. Paranormal activity wasn't meant to register. "It's bad! It's really bad!"

"Wait-" Ford adjusted his glasses. "Stanley, did you do this?"

"I didn't plan on it, Sixer!" Stan flipped a switch into anger, shoulders hunched defensively. "I think it's a girl! I heard a voice!"

"A voice? So not only is this clearly paranormal activity of some form, but it's aware enough to manifest vocals and self-identify? Fascinating!"

"Uh, Ford? Who's this?" Fiddleford tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh!" He'd completely forgotten they were there, so caught up in the supernatural. "Fiddleford, Tad, this is my twin brother, Stanley. Stanley, these are my friends, Fiddleford and Tad."

"Hi. I'm Tad Strange. I like bread."

"Yeah, great to meetcha, the nerd book , Ford, what does it say ?" Stan made a swipe for Ford's jacket, where he knew the book was. 

Ford backed up. "I don't- I haven't looked yet!"

"Why not?!"

"Because-" laughter, vicious and dark, rang out around the room, and Stan whirled, hand out like he was protecting Ford and his friends. Ford stared as Carla lifted into the centre of the room, her eyes glowing white from within and her arms outstretched.

She spoke with a voice that wasn't hers. "Sixty years I've watched you all party! Now tonight will be your last!"

"Hey!" Sheriff Grenda stomped forward and pointed at her. "You're under arrest for possession! Get outta that teenager!"

"Adults," the ghost scoffed, crossing Carla's arms. "You threw this party? Then I'll throw you!"

Carla pointed as Grenda was enveloped in pale light before she seemed to- rip apart? But it looked wet? But there was also no blood or anything, her matter was just rearranged? That was so cool! Oh- and bad too, right.

"Sheriff!" 

"Where did she go?"

"It turned her into a disco ball!"

It had. Ford had never seen a disco ball with a face before. He wanted to take so many notes.

"Back behind the bleachers, c'mon!" Fiddleford dragged both the twins to the corner he and Tad were hiding in, sitting them down as they hid in the shadows. It wasn't much of a hiding spot, but the panicking crowd likely drew more attention. 

"Poindexter!" Stanley grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "You gotta focus! How do we stop this?"

"Okay." He pulled out the diary and started flipping through, face burning. He hoped Fiddleford and Tad didn't laugh at the sparkliness of it. "Ghosts, ghosts, I know I saw something- here!"

He cleared his throat and began reading the sticker-covered page, googly eyes pasted onto a drawing of a happy ghost.

"Dear diary,

I fought a ghost today! It was crazy! He was really cute, definitely dreamy, but he was also a major meanie who wanted to destroy town, so dateability: questionable. 

Good thing I saw some of her ghost hunting tapes, otherwise I wouldn't have kicked ghostly butt! I bet this one would have counted as a Category 5, so kind of a ghost wimp. Lemme list the categories before I forget! Womp womp!"

Ford scanned through the categories before he found it. "This must be it! 'Category 8: Haunted Buildings- these ghosts are stuck in one place and make reality go all whoa! But they can't actually hurt people permanently and you can totally work things out with them by talking about their feelings, awwwwww' and then there's a heart drawn in? And people hugging?"

"We're all gonna die," Stan decided. 

"Stan, you have to tell me how this happened. Maybe there's a clue there."

"I just hit a wall." Stan shrugged, looking away. "Same as always."

"Perhaps we should ask the ghost what it wants?" Tad offered as a solution, looking abnormally calm while Fiddleford was having a silent freak out next to him, rocking back and forth and carding his hands through his hair. Ford felt a bit bad to see him so nervous, he must not have encountered an anomaly before. 

"I think it's pretty easy to tell what the ghost wants, Strange." Stan snarked.

"I WILL DESTROY ALL THE PARTY SPIRIT THAT HAS EVER EXISTED!"

"Yeah, that bit's obvious," Ford agreed. "It says that Category 8s aren't unreasonable, so maybe we can convince it to leave everyone alone?"

"We have to get it out of Carla," Stan agreed and took Ford's hand. Ford blinked at him in surprise. Stan must have really been scared, they hadn't held hands in a while. His fingers were trembling. 

Ford didn't let go this time. Not if Stanley needed it. He squeezed his twin's hand and pulled them both out of hiding, the room nearly empty from everyone being turned into party favours and posters and stuff. Carla's body floated, items swirling around her like a tornado, her flower missing from her hair. 

"Hey, ghost!" Ford yelled as he and Stan stepped up. "We wanna talk!"

"Oh?" Carla's body raised a hand and they were both floating. Ford felt Stanley's hand go tight in a death grip, hard enough to hurt. His fear of heights, Ford had to do something. The ghost continued, making Carla's face angry in a way that didn't look right. "What do you possibly have to say? Here to defend parties like everyone else?"

"I- we wanted to ask why you're unhappy!" Ford blurted out. "We want to try fix it!"

"How can you fix it? You were invited to this party like everyone else, I bet you've been to lots of them, everyone has! Everyone but me!"

"No we haven't!" Ford tried to convince her. "Tell her, Stanley!"

"I-" Stan's eyes were scrunched shut, face pale and sweaty. "We haven't! Look at us, we're losers! Who'd invite us anywhere?!"

Everything in the gym stopped spinning. Then it all crashed to the ground, Stan and Ford included. Stan immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the floor, while Ford landed a little steadier. He placed a hand on Stanley's back and looked up at Carla, or, more accurately, at the ghost that had appeared, holding Carla up by the shoulders.

She looked like a normal teenager in retro clothes, just with thick glasses like Ford. 

"You're losers like me? But you don't look like it!"

Ford held up his hand and wiggled his six fingers. "I'm definitely a loser. And my brother…"  they both looked at Stanley, currently muttering 'sweet Moses, I love you ground'. 

"But if you're losers, then why are you at a party?" She scowled and adjusted her glasses. "Especially when one of you hates them."

"Huh?" Ford looked at Stanley, feeling betrayed. Stanley didn't like parties? But he was the one who convinced Grunkle Dipper, and said they'd been to lots to Carla, and-

And, Ford suddenly remembered, dodged the question about wanting to go in the first place.

"Stanley?"

Stanley looked away and swiped his nose with his wrist brace. "Whatever. So what if I do?" He pointed at the ghost. "Why do you hate them?"

The ghost gave a very big sigh and Ford braced for backstory. "No one in this town ever invited me to anything."

"Even all of the parties that were meant for everyone, I would get an anti-invitation. An unvitation ." The ghost floated just above the ground, looking sad.  "So one day, I decided that I would ignore my unvitation and go to a party meant for everyone."

She tilted her head. "Unfortunately, that party was to celebrate Gravity Falls' Annual Heavy Object Tossing Competition, and a safe landed right on me."

"That can not be a real thing-"

"It's real!" Sheriff Grenda, in disco ball form, yelled out. "I've won it eight years in a row!"

"Okay…?" Ford shook his head, resolving to ignore that. "So you've been here ever since?"

"Yes. I've watched people party for sixty years here!" The ghost began to turn red and catch fire. "And still! No invitations!"

"What if we invited you?" Ford offered.

"Or Carla!" Stan blurted out. "Carla over there, you just possessed her. She's super nice and will invite anyone. She invited us, for cryin' out loud."

"Oh. Okay." The ghost floated over to Carla, sitting on the floor staring blankly into the middle distance, hugging her knees to her chest. "Hi Carla! Can I come to this party?"

"Uh…" Carla looked over at them, frazzled and ruffled. Ford nodded as hard as he could while Stan gave her very emphatic thumbs up. Carla looked back to the ghost. "Sure...?"

"Great!" The ghost snapped her fingers and everything went right back to normal. People turned back into people, Grenda was no longer a disco ball, and the music started up again. "I've always wanted to go to a party! Whoo-hoo!"

"Can I ask you a million questions about being a ghost?!" Ford asked now that the danger was gone, pulling out a spare notepad and pencil, not noticing Stan walk off.

#

Stan picked up Carla's plastic flower and held it out to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure?" Carla accepted the flower, putting it in her hair. "I think my whole worldview just changed."

"Yep." Stan hesitated, fidgeting with his wrist brace. "I'm sorry I said mean things to Bud."

"Oh. Well- thanks, but I think you need to apologise to him, okay?" Carla smiled at him and stood up, brushing off her skirt.

Stan nodded and scuffed his shoe against the floor. "I will."

"Thanks. You're a good kid, Stan." She patted his shoulder. "And for the record: I don't think you're a loser, you or your brother. Jersey doesn't know what they got."

"Kay." Stan agreed because how was he meant to argue that? Not when Carla was smiling at him like she believed it, like she wasn't so cool. "Thanks, Carla."

"Carla!" Bud shoved through the crowd, flowery shirt looking a bit rumpled. "Are you alright, dearest-darlingest?"

"I'm fine, really!" Carla beamed, taking Bud's hands. "Stan and Ford saved me."

"I can see that." Bud shot Stan a filthy look. 

"Hey, Bud." Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, having to drag the words out of himself. He didn't like apologising much. Usually it didn't help things. 

"Can I help you, Stanley?" He made it sound utterly frigid. 

"Sorry for what I said about your dad and stuff. It was mean." Stan looked away, looking at Ford, who was introducing the ghost to Strange and McGucket. At least he was having fun. 

"I… suppose I'm also sorry about what I said about your great uncle. It was uncalled for." Bud tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Perhaps we should call a truce?"

"Sure. Truce." Stan stuck out his hand, too late realising it was his braced hand. 

Bud took it, squeezing way too hard and making the bones hurt. Stan didn't flinch and dug his nails in as an answer. 'Truce'. Sure. When Carla was around, at least.

"Yay!" Carla did a happy dance. "The power of friendship wins again!"

They both put on a smile for her, immediately shooting daggers at the other the moment she wasn't looking. Looked like they'd be hating each other in secret. Stan could live with that.

"I'm gonna go check on my brother." Stan yanked his hand back and walked off, already sick of Bud Gleeful. He was joining his Grunkle's rivalry on the side of his Grunkle. 

#

They found their Grunkle Dipper snoring in the back of his pick-up truck, having one of those old people naps he usually had in his armchair. Ford poked his face with a pencil, not expecting him to bolt upright and immediately fall out of the truck with a surprisingly girly scream.

"Augh! Dipper down! Dipper down!"

"Grunkle Dipper, we met a ghost!" Surely he saw the building glow, right? He'd believe Ford now!

"Huh?" Dipper rubbed his head, accidentally showing off the birthmark on his forehead of the Big Dipper constellation. He picked up his cap and set it down, blinking blearily up at Stan and Ford. "You what a what?"

"Met a ghost. Fought her, invited her to a party, whole shebang," Stan yawned. "Can we go home now?"

"I made friends!" Ford already had so many plans. "Can they come over for a sleepover tomorrow? They already called their parents and asked!"

"Sure and sure?" Dipper dusted off his pajamas, surprisingly dirty for a nap in his truck, and Ford noticed something.

"What's that glove?"

"Glove?" Dipper looked down before he noticed the blue glove on his right hand. He made a weird face before he pulled it off. "Uh, it's a- a compression glove? Yep! That thing! For my old man arthritis. Flares up sometimes. 'Cause I'm old."

"Aren't you fifty-seven?"

"I'm whatever age a senior's discount at the movies is," Dipper snarked, and Ford scowled. That felt sorta illegal. Definitely unethical.

"I like your moxie, Grunkle Dip," Stan complimented as he clambered out of the back of the truck. "So did you see any of that?"

"Any of what? I've been sleeping." Dipper blinked innocently.

"Oh, come on!" Now Ford really had to find proof of the supernatural. Time to build a gnome trap.

He reached for Stanley's hand again, resolving to talk to him later about stuff. Stanley squeezed his hand back, smiling at him before he yawned again. 

Ford yawned in response. Okay. Tomorrow. They'd talk tomorrow. Stanley shouldn't have to feel like he needed to hide things, not from his brother. 

Mystery twins forever, after all.

[jerzwriter]

To Love & over Protect - Tobias x Casey HC

It took me three years to tell the story of how my messy kids finally got together. By the time they did, they were so in love with a solid foundation of friendship beneath them. The honeymoon period was intense; however, nothing is perfect, and transitioning from friends to so much more comes with its challenges. So, I decided it was time to finally write those stories, too. The first story was Money, Money and this second was a little jealous. This may be the last one, but never say never!

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,900 Summary: The chemical attack was over six months ago, and Casey is trying to adjust to her new normal with her new boyfriend at her side. The problem is? He thinks he needs to be there 24/7, and as sweet as it is, Casey needs him to understand, she can still take care of herself.

Tobias x Casey Masterlist Open Heart Masterlist Full Masterlist

Tobias glanced at his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. Finally, the confirmation arrived, but not the one he wanted to see. The car he had arranged to pick Casey up from work at Edenbrook was stuck in traffic in Charlestown and wouldn’t be there on time. In fact, it was unlikely he’d be there for another hour.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning back in his office chair.

He’d ask her to wait, but he knew her too well. She’d tell him she knew how to get home and that she had managed to do so before he came into her life. She could take the T. It was nice out; she could even stand the 40-minute walk. He could just hear her. Tobias, I’ll be fine. And chances are she was right. But he wasn’t wasn’t about to take chances, not with her.

He sent her a quick text. Hey, hon. Getting out of work a little early. Wait for me; I’ll pick you up.

It wasn't exactly a lie, he was leaving early, it just wasn't planned until a second before. He opened his laptop, rescheduled a meeting or two, and ensured his patients had coverage. Then he rushed to the elevator, a full four hours before his shift was scheduled to end. He got off at the garage level, walking to his car at a rapid pace. Edenbrook was only an eleven-minute drive from Mass Kenmore, but with traffic, that could nearly double. He looked at his watch. It was 7:00 PM, and the sun wouldn't set for another ninety minutes. Surely she'd be fine. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't help it.

Therapy had gone a long way, but some memories could never be erased, no matter how much he wished they could. He was a doctor; he knew the signs, and he saw them in Casey that dreadful night. Her skin was no longer pale but became an ashen shade of grey. Her extremities took on a tinge of blue, and her breathing became shallow. Disorientation and lethargy had set in; she couldn’t focus on a conversation the last time he walked away from her in the containment room. He wasn’t even sure she knew he was there. That’s when he knew they had hours, not days, to unravel a mystery doctors better than him had never been able to solve, and the healthy fear that was driving him quickly morphed into terror.

The odds were against them, but he walked away from her with a promise in his heart and his heart in his throat. They’d find a cure. He’d find it. He’d see her again; he had to. They weren’t even on speaking terms prior to the attack, and that was no one’s fault but his own. But that didn't stop him from loving her. He may have been too clueless, too foolish, or too scared to admit it before, but there was no way he could deny it now. Tobias Carrick, Boston's most notorious confirmed bachelor loved Dr. Casey MacTavish with all his heart... and she didn’t even know.

The elevator door closed, and he had one minute. One minute to fall apart, to allow his body to tremble and his tears to flow. One minute to let the hopelessness wash over him and to pray to God for a miracle with all his might. But when the door opened, that luxury ended. The miracle was dependent on mere mortals; it depended on him. Never seeing the woman he loved alive again was not an option... her dying without even knowing how he felt was unacceptable. So he went to work.

The story had a happy ending, or as happy as it could be. An antidote was found, Casey survived, and their friendship flourished. In the dark days and months that followed, he was there for her, her rock ensuring she'd get through. It turned out that she loved him, too, and he had no idea just how much joy that would bring.

His Casey. She was his, and he was hers... but this was the real world, and he knew happily ever after didn’t exist, but dragons certainly did. They could appear at any time, be waiting around any corner, and they kept him up at night. He couldn’t shake the anxiety that gripped him. The mere thought of her in danger again filled him with a dread he couldn’t control, casting a shadow over the new life they were trying to lead.

Casey wasn't blind to it. She saw the signs and did all that she could to reassure him. She could handle herself, but Tobias couldn’t let it go. She was no longer to take the T. Boston's subway was too unpredictable, too full of potential danger. He had drivers on call to take her anywhere she needed to go when he couldn’t drive her himself. He even had groceries delivered to her apartment when he wasn't able to join her for errands. While Casey found it sweet and endearing at first, it was starting to wear on her, and she knew it was taking a toll on him, too.

When he arrived at the Edenbrook, his heart warmed as he watched her slide into the passenger seat beside him. She may have been exhausted after a long day, but she was radiant. She flashed that smile that lit up his entire world, and his heart skipped a beat. She was happy, healthy, alive, safe... and now she was here, with him.

“Hi, babe,” she greeted, leaning across the console for a quick kiss. “So, you’re my driver again?”

Tobias forced a smile, knowing what was coming next, but he could take the ribbing, as long as she was safe. He gently brushed stray strands of hair away from her face. God. He loved her.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “But good. I can’t complain. Though, I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to get home from work by myself. Might have to retrain myself soon.”

He chuckled half-heartedly and took her hand. She could tease him all she wanted to. At least he knew she was safe. But as they drove to her apartment, it was impossible to ignore how quiet she had become. Something was on her mind, and he feared he knew precisely what it was.

They found a parking spot, and she invited him in. Kicking her shoes off at the door, she headed directly to her room, collapsing onto the bed with a groan. Tobias lay down beside her, gently caressing her arm. He couldn’t have been happier to be by her side, but his heart was still racing, and he knew they needed to talk.

“Casey,” he said softly. She turned to him, her eyes warm and patient. “I know I’ve been… a bit much lately.”

She raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a small smile. “A bit?”

“Okay, maybe more than a bit,” he admitted.

“Considering the fact that you’re not supposed to be at work for another three hours and you offered to accompany me to the bathroom, I’d say it’s more than a bit.”

“I just… I can’t help it, baby. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but...”

“But?” She said, reaching to touch his cheek.

“I can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to you, Casey. Not after everything… I need to protect you. I need to keep you safe. Having you hurt or, God forbid, losing you... it's not an option."

She reached for his hand. “I know, Tobias. I know you're doing all this because you care about me, and I love you for it. But you have to understand—this is no way to live. For either of us.”

“I’m afraid, Casey,” he said, his voice trembling with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “I’m terrified that one day something will happen, and I won’t be able to save you.”

Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes as she leaned in closer, cupping his face in her hand. “You already saved me, hon. You saved my life and spent the months following showing me how to live again. I’m here because of you in more ways than one. But now, I need you to help me return to the real world, and I can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to protect me from it.”

He looked into her eyes, the weight of her words seeping in. She was right, of course. He’d been so focused on keeping her safe that he hadn’t realized he was suffocating both of them in the process. This was no way for them to live.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help bring you back to life, not prevent you from living it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for loving me and caring about me,” she replied. “But promise me you’ll work on this, OK? Talk to your therapist if you have to. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Tobias nodded, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. “I promise. I’ll do better. I just… I love you so much, Casey. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You can’t guarantee that,” he sighed, his head filling with visions of that night against his will.

“Hey,” she said, forcing him to look her in the eye. “No day is promised to any of us, T, but there is only so much we can control. You know I’ll take care of myself, and I know you’ll do your part, too. But the rest... if we spend all our time worrying about all the things that can go wrong, we’ll never enjoy the time that we have. I don’t blame you, baby. We both went through a terrible ordeal, and it will take time to heal. But I have faith in you. I have faith in us."

He looked at her, his face twisted with all the emotions he was feeling at that moment, but the most prominent of them all was love.

“I love you, baby. I don’t have a ton of experience with this relationship stuff, and, well, ours got off to an eventful start....”

“It sure did,” she smiled. “And it’s not easy, but it will only make us stronger.”

Tobias's arms encircled her, and he pulled her as close as she could; Casey snuggled closer to him, relishing his closeness, his warmth.

“You mind if I stay over here tonight, kid?”

“Why,” she giggled. “Do you want to be with me, or are you just protecting me?”

“Oh,” he growled, rolling on top of her, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss. “I want to be with you all right. But two things can be true. I’m happy to protect you while I’m here... you can protect me, too, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does. I love you,” she smiled, giving him another tender kiss, then pulled back with an impish twinkle in her eye. Now, with all of this talk of protection... please tell me you have some on you because, if you’re staying, I have some fun activities in mind."

"You may not know this," he smiled, reaching into his pant pocket. "But I was a Boy Scout. I'm always prepared."

"And that's one of the things I love about you," she laughed, gripping his hands as they toyed with the hem of her shirt. But seriously, baby, promise you'll talk to your therapist. I want us both to heal from this. We have a beautiful life ahead."

He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "We sure do, and I'm not going to let anything, even my fear, get in our way."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[lucianhuntress]

Day 6. Sephiroth x Reader: 56. “The only place I feel safe in is your arms.”

This one was a tough cookie in terms of husbando + prompt combo, but I ended up using my old FFVII Office AU.

Being Sephiroth’s secretary certainly isn't easy; he is cold, demanding and extremely rude. He is mostly indifferent towards the rest of your coworkers and he always makes sure to send an extra amount of pain and suffering via emails, which he keeps sending to you even if he sits next to you in a meeting.

There's also the other side of the coin of working for Sephiroth: he is exceptional in bed. 

Yes, there is a bit of a contradiction there and he knows it, you know it— but the rest of the office, nor the higher ups, don't. Just how you two even ended up together is a mystery you can't solve.

After another emergency meeting at your small apartment you two lie in bed, exhausted but blissful. The rays of the setting sun dance on his skin as he rests his head on your chest, while your hand brushes absentmindedly his long, silvery hair. 

Sephiroth has only recently grown more affectionate, so moments like this are rare. 

“The only place I feel safe in is your arms,” he mumbles, his cyan eyes shut and he almost behaves like a cat, purring away in your embrace.

You nearly choke on pure air as you register his confession, you are used to much milder ones, like: “you're not completely useless,” or “your hair looks alright.” 

“Did I hear correctly?” You ask with a bated breath.

He glances at you through his lashes and growls: “do not expect me to repeat myself.”

“You've never been so nice to me before,” you ponder out loud, feeling suddenly warm on the inside. At work he is the most sadistic boss you could ever imagine, but behind the scenes he can be completely different.

Sephiroth lets out a groan, regretting his confession now. “Don't get ahead of yourself with this bit of information.”

“Now, only if you were nicer to me at work,” you sigh dreamily. Something tells you that you can keep on dreaming.

“Then the whole building would know what I do to you outside work hours.” 

“Emergency meetings?” You giggle and lean in to brush his slightly pink eartip with your lips.

“Exactly.”

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART]

This one is shorter, because I wanted to leave a cliffhanger at the end >:) Fair warning, there's a small paragraph describing wounds in more depth than I usually do!

These are getting more difficult to write haha. Maybe I'm trying to add too many plot points at the same time, but I like a good mystery or 5...

Ghost is tempted to barge into Price’s office for a third time today. He’s been getting increasingly more agitated, and with no missions in the foreseeable future, has no place to let all his frustrations out.

The fact he’s been avoiding MacTavish isn’t helping the situation.

“Avoiding” is a strong word. Ghost is simply waiting for Soap to get what he had told him back then through his thick skull. And hearing the conversations he has with the recruits tells him he absolutely didn’t.

The Scot keeps up a friendly approach with them, making light jokes at his revenant status. Lets enough information out that the recruits don’t feel the need to ask more, but not enough that they would truly understand what is going on.

It would impress him if he didn’t feel this underlying current of freezing ice every time he heard another of Soap’s ‘hilarious’ stories.

Watching Gaz beside him grimace tells him they share the sentiment. The Sergeants have been spending a lot of time together as of late, and Ghost would lie if he said he didn’t wish Garrick would take a moment to speak with him. He’s not one to really focus on what he’s feeling, but he needs to share what he knows with someone.

He wants more brains working on solving the mystery called “Soap”.

Ghost sighs before turning away from Price’s door. 

You’d think, for someone with Ghost’s powers, he wouldn’t need to train his physical strength as much. He wouldn’t, if things worked as they did before he joined the 141. He wasn’t as smart back then.

Ghost throws another flurry of punches at the sack that distracts him from his thoughts for a moment.

Back then, he went into missions back to back, annihilating enemies within a few seconds of touching ground. Receiving orders to unleash Limbo regardless of how close allies were to him. 

Limbo was emptier. Calmer. The not-dead residing within it weren’t always this… angry.

Another set of punches violently shakes the chains the punching bag is hanged by.

It was only after losing several squads that Ghost finally got his tight leash, but it was too late. Limbo was never the same. And neither were his fellow soldiers, who saw in Ghost not a brother in arms, but their friend’s murderer.

Soap might not have his own Limbo, but Ghost is certain his powers can, and if he continues on the path he’s on, will backfire.

Reapers, as generous as they are, are merciless.

He heaves, resting his arm on the abused bag. It might be time to involve Price in his concerns.

The path to Price’s office is intercepted by one floating Sergeant, also on his way to the Captain.

Ghost nods at him, “need the Captain for something?”

Gaz averts his eyes for a moment, “It’s about Soap, I think-”

“Save it for Price’s office”, Ghost restarts on his path, a little more sure of his purpose. With the three of them, he’ll might be able to find out more.

Before Garrick can knock, Price’s words fill their minds.

“I can sense your troubles from here, come in already.”

They both huffed and entered the room. Price sat in front of his computer screen, reading something before addressing them.

“Spill it out then. I’m listening.”

“Soap’s left arm has nerve damage, sir”, Ghost starts, “He needs more time to heal than the brass is giving him. He should be removed from active duty.”

Gaz’s eyes widen in surprise. Oh, so Soap hasn’t let his new friend know about this? Fucking great.

“How the hell is he supposed to fight without one arm?” He exclaims, “Sir, I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s hiding injuries. He keeps telling stories about how many he got blown to bits and I can’t imagine he-”

Price cuts him off “The Sergeant’s arm injuries are registered and accounted for.”

“The higher-ups let him out when he’s ‘capable of preforming well on field’. His words” Ghost adds and deflates back into his chair.

“Bloody hell…” Gaz trails off.

Price watches both of them and exhales, “I’m not in charge of Soap’s next deployment. I can’t do anything about that.”

Ghost looks at the screen for the first time since entering. Schedules, of…

“Price… what have you found?”

The captain’s expression darkened, “We finally got back the decrypted intel you and Soap collected 7 months ago.”

His focus snaps away from Soap. Are they being sent on a mission finally? “Tell me where you need me, Captain.”

“Switzerland. Intel suggests a deal with a PMC will happen there in 4 days. Shepherd wants eyes on it, the smuggler hub it’s taking place in has been on our radar for months.”

Price drags out 2 files and dumps them in front of Ghost and Gaz, “you two will survey the area and take notes, no engagement. Get it done clean.”

“What about Soap, sir?” Gaz asks.

Price raises an eyebrow, “what about him? He will stay here, waiting for his assignment.” Price tries to reassure the Sergeant, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him busy. He’ll get to have some alone time in the training grounds”.

Ghost gets up and takes the file with him. They both get dismissed and Gaz stops after a couple of steps, “you need to talk to Soap before we leave.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “has he said anything?”.

“No”, Gaz chews on his lip, “But I feel like if he’ll listen to someone, it would be you.”

Ghost walks away, not before muttering, “your feeling’s wrong, then.”

He doesn’t sleep that night. Which isn’t an unfamiliar experience for him, but much rarer after Price found him a bunk bed to drag into his personal room. The victims of Limbo don’t reach up high enough to grasp at him there.

Ghost looks out at the fields, a sense of discomfort lingering around him. Footsteps behind him alert him to the presence of another sleepless soldier. He doesn’t bother turning - they’ll leave him alone when they realize it’s the Ghost, if they know what’s good for them.

It’s for that reason that he’s surprised to hear the footsteps get closer to him, before feeling a body join the window.

Ghost is about to scare the bastard away, but he turns around to find Soap, a somber look marring his features.

“I’ve thought about what you told me”, he speaks lowly, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.

Ghost hums.

“My powers… don’t allow me to do much.” Soap locks eyes with the night sky, “I either destroy or get destroyed. I supposed you figured what I prefer.”

He did. What he doesn’t understand is why Soap is so adamant that it’s the only way. He turns to Soap, which makes the other finally look at him.

“When you return from your mission, when you’re truly under my command, I’ll decide what your role will be. For now”, he sighs, “for now, you can keep playing a puppet for the higher ups.”

Soap has a distant look to his eyes. As if he’s not really all here. “I do want to learn. How to operate like the 141 does. I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.”

That doesn’t comfort Ghost in the slightest.

“Care to share?” He cautiously asks.

Soap, for the first time in days, shines a genuine smile at him, “You’re a bit of a myth sir. Each person seems to have a different idea of what your powers really are, how your Reaping went”

He raises his head, “None of them come close to the truth”.

“What else have you heard?” Ghost continues digging his own second grave.

“Does it matter? It’s all shite anyway.” Soap huffs, “You’re far softer than any of them realize”

He barks what could be a laugh, “Softer? Sergeant, have you hit your head in training?”

Soap fucking pouts his lips like a damn child and replies “Aye I said it! Yer soft LT! Who else would’ve cared about my arm!” His smile broadens.

Ghost can feel his eyes crescent, “I think your brain’s more messed up than I originally thought.”

“That’s for fuckin’ certain” Soap snorts.

They return to their previous silence, and Ghost unexpectedly has the urge to say, “me and Garrick are leaving for a mission tomorrow. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Soap rests his head in his flaming hand, leaning against the window sill, smiling up at Ghost.

“Copy that, sir”.

The mission isn’t anything to write home about. Ghost does feel surprisingly refreshed for not sleeping a wink the night before.

He refuses to acknowledge that Soap’s farewell to them on the tarmac has anything to do with that.

Gaz lifts a chunk of concrete for them to overwatch the meeting happen. The PMC representatives, a dozen soldiers covered head to toe in black uniforms, exchange with the smugglers a few words before walking over to their truck and opening the back to check the “goods”. From their location, Ghost can’t see what’s inside.

The PMC Soldiers seem pleased, and bring several crates to the smugglers.

The two parties leave, and Ghost and Gaz finish their observations and call for exfil.

When they return to their home base, Ghost notes only Price waiting for them on the tarmac.

They get dragged into debrief before he can ask where their other Sergeant is.

As Price collects the various files and maps they used in the meeting, Ghost stays behind and inquires him about Soap’s whereabouts.

“The Sergeant deployed last night”, is all he’s got clearance to get.

Price tells him he’ll be informed when the Sergeant returns, and Ghost leaves the meeting room, unsettled as if he didn’t just finish a mission.

The days are incredibly unremarkable without Soap. He and Garrick have played about 15 card game rounds in 3 days, before they both got so bored the preferred doing nothing at all.

He would be drowning in paperwork if their entire previous mission didn’t unexpectedly get wrapped in red tape, so he didn’t even have that to distract him. Although, with the size of Price’s eye bags resembling several suitcases, maybe he shouldn’t complain.

At last, Gaz runs up to him to swiftly push him towards the tarmac, yapping about and telling him that Soap is about to return.

Ghost decides then that he will stick to the Scot until he’ll tell him every single detail on his mission. Specifically, in the medical department. He’s not going to let him hide such things anymore.

Gaz sees the helo nearing and Ghost’s chest does a bizarre twisting motion in anticipation for Soap and his bright smiles.

The helo touches down, and Gaz runs up to it while the ramp lowers. He calls for Soap before abruptly stopping.

Ghost pushes beyond him to see what’s the holdup, and freezes in place.

Soap stands on one, shaky leg. His left arm, bloody and bruised, barely hangs on a crutch. His entire right side is charred, black blood caking his remaining tac vest.

He hops down slowly, and Ghost sees his face more clearly in the sunlight. Or what is left of it.

His cheek was so badly burned he could see his teeth poking through, blood covering what is certainly more burn marks. One eye shut, the other so vacant it looks fake.

He glances at Ghost for a moment, before Soap breaks the eye contact and continues hopping forward, leaving droplets of blood behind him. Distantly, he can hear Gaz shaking off from his stupor and offering to help Soap, only to be completely ignored.

Ghost himself is still stuck, his eyes glued to the helo sits.

Soap’s is covered in deep red blood.

Should probably remind y'all I like angst huh

[3-2-whump]

Aftermath of a Flicker of a Spark

<prev next>

A.K.A., that chapter was long as hell, so I broke it up a little and now here's Julio's POV about what just happened, set one week after he first met Khaled

TW/CW: masturbation reference. That's the only big thing that's sticking out to me. Wow, only one TW on the list!

Author's Note: I know like a high school level of Spanish, I studied abroad in a Spanish-speaking country for one semester in college, and I spent more than two hours researching what cholo Spanish sounds like. That being said, if I got anything wrong, please tell me, and be kind about it. I am only human, but I would very much like to know one way or the other <3

A warm slender neck underneath his tattooed fingers. A defiant scowl on blood stained lips. A pair of the prettiest, deepest, darkest, eyes that swallowed the light of his ember ones in their gravitational pull. Those eyes had haunted his dreams, his fantasies, his nearly every waking moment for the past week. And the rest of his boys knew it.

“Jefe! Baja de las nubes!” 

Julio’s breath spasmed in his chest as Alphonso punctuated his reprimand with a thump to the back. “That’s not where his head is,” Luis chuckled, leaning back on the shabby couch in the abandoned warehouse. Julio rubbed his shoulder, cursing as he swatted at his cousin with his free hand. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you? The Costa guy?”

“His name is Khaled,” he corrected. He shooed Luis over with a wave of his hand and plopped down on the worn couch cushion next to him. “And no, I am not thinking about him, really!” He huffed out a sigh, rubbing his hands through his now evenly-shortened, dark brown hair. He had shorn off his stupid mohawk after their fight; no way he could keep it after that.

Sometimes, he could still feel the phantom pull of Khaled’s fingers through his long strip of hair. It was the hardest he’d ever cum in recent memory, imagining those fingers in his hair. He shaved it soon after.

The faint chime of Julio’s text tone, followed by the speed at which he whipped out his phone, exposed his lie immediately. It wasn’t him. He pocketed his phone and let out a frustrated sigh. His olive-skinned cheeks burned red with embarrassment as his gang laughed at him.

“Ohhhh, Jefe’s in looooove!”

“Shut up!” In a gesture unbecoming of the Boss of Juicio Divino, he crossed his arms against his chest and slumped against the couch like a petulant child. “It’s not that I like him like him. I just appreciate his fighting,” he muttered.

“Did anybody else find those scars on his back unsettling?” Luis asked.

A few murmurs of agreement echoed through the garage.

Julio felt the glowing warmth of attraction toward the mysterious young man sputter like a nascent ember in the wind. He didn’t forget those scars. And that tattoo placement –usually, only the highest-ranking members of the Costas got the skull and snake, and even then, it would be proudly inked on the front, on their chest. So why was his on his back shoulder, along with all those scars? Julio asked himself. Something was off. And, as one who was never immune to a good mystery to solve, Julio Lazaro Estrada was going to figure out what it was.

The text tone went off again, and Julio whipped out his phone with as much enthusiasm as the last time. This time however, his enthusiasm was not in vain. Glaring brightly from his screen were a string of ten numbers and a short message.

It’s Khaled. I want to talk.

His lips parted into an ear to ear grin.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

@generic-whumperz @bamber344

[darkwitch1999]

☕🥱A Random Headcanon: How Marc Got The Coffee Part I 🥱☕

Collège Françoise Dupont: Boiler Room

Nathaniel: (visibly annoyed) So we’re really doing this, huh?

Nino: Yep.

(Down in the boiler room, Nino had set up a small desk with a desk lamp, a radio that played what sounded like the soundtrack of an old detective movie, a stack of books, and a manila file folder. The teen wore a fake mustache and an old-style detective costume. On each opposing side of the desk stood two chairs, the one on the right being currently occupied by an exhausted Marc Anciel. The poor, tired writer was suffering from the effects of his caffeine crash and could barely keep his eyes open. His make-up was a dreadful mess from when he had his breakdown earlier, his hair was a frazzled mess, the dark circles encased around his eyes looked as though they had gotten deeper and darker, and his body that had before trembled and twitched so terribly now struggled against the intense feeling of exhaustion. Out of earshot in a corner, Nino and Nathaniel discussed Nino’s plan, which Nathaniel found to be very unnecessary, and annoying, and he would have been against taking any part in this ridiculous plan if the artist was not worried about his partner’s well-being.)

Nino: I’m sorry, Nath, but this is the only way.

Nathaniel: There are more than one, much better ways we could handle this! I don’t think this is best for Marc’s well-being right now. Just look at him! (points to the exhausted writer) He needs sleep!

Nino: Look, I get it. Marc’s crashing down from the caffeine and needs rest. But we have to do this for his own good! We need to find out where or more specifically, who did he get that coffee from! (starts counting off his fingers) The first time this happened he asked you to buy the coffee for him because he knew you didn’t know he couldn’t have it. The second time he took advantage of Rose’s kindness and trusting nature to secure the coffee. This time, however, he must have gone to someone who didn’t know that he couldn’t have coffee, and since no one is fessing up, we will have to find out who the guilty culprit is.

Nathaniel: But couldn’t we just ask him after he’s had time to rest and recover? Interrogating him when he’s in this state just seems too cruel. It feels like we’re treating him like some dangerous criminal. 

Nino: (puts a reassuring hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder) Nath, I don’t want to watch him suffer any more than you do, but I’m afraid it has to be this way to prevent another episode from ever happening again. If we let him sleep first, he’ll have more energy and focus to come up with a lie or ID a scapegoat, and it will be even harder to get Marc to confess the truth. Marc may be more reasonable when he’s off the coffee, but he definitely wouldn’t give up his supplier willingly, especially if he knows that the rest of us don’t know who gave him his fix.

Nathaniel: (shoots Nino an incredulous look) “Supplier”? Really, Nino?

Nino: (defensively) Hey, technically caffeine is considered a drug! I looked it up!

Nathaniel: (crosses his arms) Not an illegal one. Hence why I feel like you are treating Marc like a dangerous criminal.

Nino: Oh come on, Nath! The last thing I want to do is treat Marc like a criminal! 

Nathaniel: (raises an eyebrow) Then what’s with the Sherlock Holmes cosplay?

Nino: Because we’re trying to solve a mystery and I thought it would fit the aesthetic! (sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose).

Nathaniel: (appears hesitant) I still don’t like this….this feels like torture.

Nino: Nath, please trust me. I swear we’re not going to torture Marc. Just give us thirty minutes or so to question him, an hour at most. If he doesn’t confess within that amount of time, we’ll back off and let him get some sleep. On the other hand, if he tells us who supplied him with the coffee before the time is up, we’ll let him sleep sooner. And I promise, I’ll back off if he reaches his limit. Whatever happens during this, I won’t make Marc suffer more than he already has.

(Nathaniel pondered for a moment, considering Nino’s plan and compromise. The artist still felt conflicted about putting his partner through an interrogation while he was so sleep-deprived. He knew how physically exhausting the combination of caffeine withdrawal and insomnia from the previous night was on the writer along with the mental and emotional exhaustion of the pressure that Marc was clearly under mixed in with the aftermath of his breakdown from earlier. Nathaniel wanted Marc to rest. He wanted Marc to get better. He wanted to see that beautifully contagious and unburdened smile spread across his partner’s face again and never to see that strained and unhinged smile or the exhausted frown again. However, as guilty as Nathaniel felt for even considering going along with Nino’s plan, he also knew that Nino made some truthful points to defend his plan. Nathaniel didn’t want to admit it, but Nino was right when he argued that Marc wouldn’t easily name whoever gave him the coffee. Rose and himself were willing to own up to mistakes those times they had given Marc coffee, but this time no one is willing to admit that they had given Marc coffee. And knowing the writer, he would try to play off that “everything was fine” and there was no need to worry about who gave him the coffee, desperately trying to avoid talking about what had been bothering him so much and what was causing all the stress and pressure that he was under in the first place. Marc was never one to be willing to talk about his problems with others and always tried to appear as if everything was okay as best he could because he didn’t want to make others feel worried about him. If they were going to have any chance of finding out how Marc got coffee, now was their best and possibly only time while the writer didn’t have the energy to resist telling the truth.)

Nathaniel: (sighs) Forty minutes. We’ll question him for forty minutes and no more. And when I say “that’s enough”, I mean that’s enough. We won’t push him any farther than he can handle.

Nino: (nods in agreement) Alright, deal! Now that that’s settled, let’s get to it. Get ready to assume your role, good cop!

(Nino took a deep breath in and out as he adjusted his usual demeanor into a more serious demeanor as he now bore a stoic expression on his face. As Nino started walking towards the desk, Nathaniel rolled his eyes in annoyance.)

Nathaniel: (annoyed) Right, forgot that Nino wanted to do “Good Cop, Bad Cop” too.

(The two boys approached the desk where the exhausted writer now had his head face down on the desk, moaning in discomfort. Nino sat in the desk chair opposite the writer while Nathaniel stood next to the cosplaying detective. The “detective” then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tube of bubble solution and a bubble wand.)

Nino: (blows bubbles from the bubble wand with a stern look) Rise and shine, Marc.

Nathaniel: (smiles nervously) H-Hey Marc…um…how are you feeling?

(Marc rolls his head to the side, revealing his dreadfully exhausted face to the other two boys.) 

Marc: (moans) My head…feels like it's going to split open…

Nino: (blows another bubble) Mhm. That would be the caffeine withdrawal hangover for you. Though we both already know that you are well familiar with the feeling.

Nathaniel: (shoots Nino a warning look) Nino…

Nino: (clears his throat, unfazed by Nathaniel’s glares) Anyway, enough beating around the bush. It’s time we all talk.

(Marc lifted his head off the table to give the “detective” an annoyed, tired look. His expression then turned into one of confusion as he took notice of the outfit that the young boy was wearing. The writer turned to look at Nathaniel with an eyebrow raised in confusion.)

Marc: Nath, why is Nino dressed as Sherlock Holmes?

Nathaniel: (sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose) I have asked the same question, Marc. 

Marc: Wait, does that mean you are supposed to be Watson?

Nathaniel: (shakes his head and glances annoyed at Nino) No, apparently I’m supposed to be “good cop”.

Marc: (tilts his tired head in confusion) Wait…(yawns)...I’m confused….(points to Nathaniel) If you’re “good cop”...(points to Nino) and you’re “Sherlock Holmes”....then who’s “bad cop”...or…what’s even going on here? What are you guys even doing?

Nathaniel: (smirks) Actually, Nino’s supposed to be the “bad cop”. The Sherlock Holmes cosplay is just Nino doing his own thing.

Marc: (gives Nino an incredulous look) You do realize your “Sherlock Holmes” cosplay doesn’t make any sense if you guys are doing “Good Cop, Bad Cop”, right? I mean, for one thing, Sherlock Holmes was far too intelligent and dignified to resort to such a cliche interrogation tactic that wasn’t even developed during his time! Not to mention that Sherlock Holmes didn’t even work for the British Police! Yes, they did work together on a few cases, specifically with Inspectors Lestrade and Gregson the most, but still-...

Nino: (slams his hand hard on the desk, startling Marc with a jump) That’s enough out of you! Nathaniel and I are the ones asking the questions here, Anciel!

Marc: (rolls his eyes) And I thought Jean was over dramatic…

Nino: (regains his composure and clears his throat again) Anyway, I hardly think that you’re in any position to judge my choices right now. After all, you’ve made some rather “questionable” decisions yourself recently, now have you?

Marc: Not more questionable than your choice of interrogation methods…or fashion…

Nino: Got nothing to say, huh? That’s fine, we’ll start things off then. (opens the manila folder) I don’t care to mince words with you, so I’m just going to come out and say it. (picks up three pictures from the folder) We all know that someone gave you coffee and we know that someone had to be someone who didn’t know that you couldn’t have coffee for reasons that we all know too well, i.e. one of these three prime suspects.

(Nino places all three photos in front of Marc. The first photo was of Zoé Lee, the second was a photo of Devin Nolan, and the third photo was of Noelle Odeja. Marc takes a brief look at the photos and averted his gaze away from the pictures.)

Marc: You don’t know what you’re talking about, Nino. You couldn’t even be more wrong. (smirks tiredly) That ridiculous hat you’re wearing might be too tight.

Nino: (smirks, unfazed by Marc’s remark) Seeing as though you still have enough energy to be cheeky, you’ll have no problem naming your supplier.

(Nathaniel rolls his eyes at Nino using the word “supplier” again.)

Marc: What makes you think that someone gave me the coffee? How do you know I didn’t just get the coffee myself?

Nino: You mean other than the fact that you’ve done this before?

Nathaniel: (places a hand gently on the writer’s shoulder) Marc, we know you didn’t get the coffee yourself. We know your moms won’t let you have coffee and for good reasons, too. (The writer shifted his eyes away from Nathaniel, but the artist continued.) We also know that the coffee you’ve been drinking is from your mama’s shop since you would never betray the family business by drinking coffee from a different coffee shop, which brings us to the ultimate reason why we know that someone bought the coffee for you. You would never even think of trying to steal coffee from your mama because too good of a person. 

(Marc remained silent, knowing he couldn’t argue with their reasons given that they were right. Marc was raised too well to steal anything and would feel like a traitor if he tried to buy coffee from anywhere other than his mama’s shop. Nino noticed how quiet the writer had become and smiled a satisfied smirk.)

Nino: (smugly) I’ll take your silence as proof that we’re right. Now then, as we speak, our three prime suspects are currently being interrogated by my lovely partner and her best friend…

Marc: (rolls his eyes in annoyance) Great…Alya and Marinette are doing this too, huh? Let me guess, is Alya dressed up as well? Is she Watson? Or maybe she’s that reporter from New York who always writes about Majesta?

Nathaniel: (raises an eyebrow) C’mon Marc, it’s Alya. 

Marc: Yeah, you’re right, Nath. (smirks at Nino) She doesn’t quite share the same flair for the overdramatic as other people do (snickers).

Nino: (slightly offended) Mock me all you want, Anciel. One way or another, we are going to find out the truth. We don’t care how long it takes. We’ll keep going all day and night if we have to.

Marc: (smiles smugly) We can’t stay on school grounds past five.

Nathaniel: And we’re not doing this any longer than forty minutes.

Nino: We’ll keep going till five if we have to.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Detective Nino is on the case (whether anyone asks or not)! Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this continuation of the "Why Marc Shouldn't Have Coffee" saga. I was going to do a full headcanon, but I decided to split it into parts since it was getting rather long. Probably a bit out of character for Marc to be a sarcastic, smart mouth in this headcanon, but in his defense, he's exhausted. Stay tuned for part two when we read about Alya interrogating the three suspects. Who do you think did the crime? Share your thoughts, opinions, and theories about the guilty party.

@andromeda612 @artzychic27 @username8746489 @nerd-chocolate @imsparky2002 @msweebyness

[calitsnow]

Ranpo's parents and their influence on his life + Ranpo’s anger + how Fukuzawa gained Ranpo's trust

The second episode of Bungo Stray Dogs Season 4 was released today and it continues the adaptation of my favorite novel from the series; the one depicting the meeting between Ranpo and Fukuzawa and the founding of the agency.

And I have so much to say but let's start with the topic I want to talk about the most:

The red thread of this post will be: Ranpo's parents

Unfortunately their importance has been diminished in the episodes and I can not help but tell myself that it is a significant loss for the understanding of the character of Ranpo but also many other themes and events that were closely linked to them.

Through this writing I will address four points:

I/The identity of Ranpo’s parents and their relationship with him

II/The influence of Ranpo’s parents in his life following their premature departure

III/The breaking point

IV/The birth of Ranpo’s blind trust in Fukuzawa

So be prepared for a long but (I hope) interesting ride

Whereas the first episode was based on introducing us to the past characters of Ranpo and Fukuzawa, especially introduce us to their encounter and to set up the different elements for the rest of the story.

This second episode had also a clear theme: the anxieties and the feeling of alienation from the rest of the world that gnawed at Ranpo.

But also the how of why Fukuzawa chose to lie to him and make him believe he was an skill user and why Ranpo believed him.

And these are very important elements to the character of Ranpo, because it is indeed this meeting and the words of Fukuzawa that gave him such a blinding faith in him and I would even go so far as to say, that shaped this haughty and superior behaviour that Ranpo showed at the start of the manga.

I'm not saying that Ranpo wasn't like that before, but he was so; in a much more moderate and silent way because of his parents' words (we'll come back to that later) and what stands out above all in Ranpo's character (either at the time of the founding of the agency or at the moment present in the manga) is his childish character coupled with a hint of haughtiness and an intellect superior to all.

So far, all we knew was that it was Fukuzawa who had given his glasses to Ranpo, who had revealed to him the fact that he is an "ability user" (even if it is a lie) and that he had founded the armed detective agency so that Ranpo can fully utilize his gift without fearing the outside world.

But it's never been made clear why Ranpo and Fukuzawa's bond was so strong, and we'll later learn that Fukuzawa didn't just create a safe space for our great detective, but was also the one who saved him from the image of a world that was breaking him a little more every day.

I have sometimes read posts that speculated on what Ranpo could have become if it hadn't been Fukuzawa who had found him but Mori for example, and often the conclusion is clear, either Ranpo would have ended up even more broken and frightened of the world he lived in or had he been influenced by someone who, like Fukuzawa, understood Ranpo's true potential but tricked him into using it for manipulative and scheming purposes, he would have been shaped to be someone like Fyodor or Dazai.

We could often witness as the manga progressed that Ranpo lost to Fyodor because, firstly, he was facing a very intelligent opponent but also because he is not able to set up and foresee all the stratagems which pass by the manipulation of the emotions of the men, whereas Fyodor and Dazai are specialists in it.

And this is due to the fact that Fukuzawa (and his parents, we will also come back to this later) did not educate Ranpo to use his intelligence for this, but to solve mysteries and have a strategic vision which is based on data / facts.

However, that also doesn't mean that Ranpo would be unable to become like Fyodor or Dazai, although he could never match them in their domain. He has already demonstrated that he can do so by manipulating Mushitarō Oguri into surrendering to the police.

Anyway, I digress a bit and I ended up not talking about the episode anymore.

But it was only to show that these episodes are very important to better understand the character of Ranpo and how he came to be who he is today.

Especially to explain the behavior of superiority that Ranpo adopts which can annoy some at the beginning of the manga because its origin is not clearly explained and can pass for simple arrogance linked to his childish behaviour.

Even though the theme of this birth of feelings of superiority and the theme of the fears related to a Ranpo who fails to understand his environment and who is not able to find someone who seems to understand him were addressed during this episode; some equally important themes/elements were unfortunately not brought up by the latter and I find that’s a shame, especially when they are such important elements in Ranpo's life and that manga/anime only cannot know unless they did research on the light novels.

To be fair; I think that the episodes do a fairly good job of adapting the novel but unfortunately; adapting a novel with so much informations into three episodes is a tedious task and certain elements must be skimmed over or deleted to keep the essential that is here, namely the meeting between Ranpo and Fukuzawa, Ranpo's discovery of his gift through Fukuzawa and the founding of the agency.

Ranpo's parents are a detail in all this, a way to deepen his character but they are not necessary to the story, only their death is.

But I still think it's a shame to have cut their involvement in their son's development because it's not just the loss of his parents that fractured Ranpo, it's also the vision they gave him of the outside world which led to his feeling of alienation.

Many people might wonder why Ranpo couldn’t figure out on his own that he was smarter than the rest unfortunately the episodes didn’t really try to give an answer.

I therefore wish to clarify things for the anime and manga only who would not have had the opportunity or the desire to read the novel 3.

I/ The identity of Ranpo's parents and their relationship with him

« What was your father’s name?”

When Ranpo told Fukuzawa, he was slightly taken aback. It was a name even Fukuzawa knew. There wasn’t a soul who worked in his business who didn’t. The man was a legendary detective. The “Headless Officer” case, the “Moonlight Phantom,” the “Cow Head Incident”—he helped solve several difficult cases that shook the nation.

His powers of deduction and observation were so extraordinary that people called him the Clairvoyant.

He was highly respected and praised. »

Even if in the anime Ranpo informs Fukuzawa that his parents are no longer of this world, he does not go further in his explanations and the subject is quickly forgotten while in the book we learn more about their identities.

We learn that Ranpo's father was also a great detective, which in a way can serve as an explanation for Ranpo's exceptional intellect, the apple does not fall far from the trees, especially when we learn later who was his mother.

Above all, we learn that Ranpo's father was a well-known figure in the world and that he was respected everywhere as a great detective, this public image may have harmed/endangered the Edogawa family and the cause of their deaths was perhaps not so accidental. But here, it remains speculation.

Ranpo then continues with new information about his mother.

« He probably wasn’t amazing enough to be known to the public or anything, though. He could never beat my mom when it came to solving mysteries or reasoning, so she always got the upper hand on him when they argued back home. »

Here what is interesting, in addition to the information about his mother, is that Ranpo, unlike the rest of the world, does not consider his father as someone exceptional and whose intelligence, surely, did not allow him to be someone famous.

Which is so telling about Ranpo's skewed worldview and which is a clue to the true situation he really finds himself in:

« Ranpo knew the secretary was the criminal the moment he walked into the office, but the reason he didn’t speak up was because in his head, he thought the adults in the room all knew that as well.{…}

Or perhaps it was because he had simply lived a sheltered life in a bubble with his parents and no one else »

Ranpo grew up isolated from others, alongside geniuses but he didn't grow up with this vision of them, seeing them as normal people with a banal level of intelligence, because that's how his parents wanted him to see them. (We will come back to this later)

Second information: Ranpo's mother was also if not smarter than his father, which confirms to the reader that Ranpo grew up surrounded by eminences grises on the same level as his.

However, unlike her husband, she was not a public figure.

Third information: either Ranpo's father hid his activity from him and managed to hide his reputation at home or he retired to live a less dangerous life and not endanger his family with all the enemies he could have gain over time, hiding in anonymity.

« He hated the countryside. He hated the people, the school, and essentially everything else there. »

Moreover, we learned that Ranpo was brought up in the countryside, facilitating his isolation from the rest of the world, but even if he was isolated it seems that Ranpo still felt this feeling of ostracization from the others.

Even if Ranpo mostly talk about his inability to understand the world after the death of his parents, we cannot rule out the idea that Ranpo did not get along with children of his age because of his different reasoning from theirs.

If this is true we can conclude that even before the death of his parents, Ranpo felt misunderstood and left out, being unable to understand others and to act like everybody excepted him to.

However he had the presence of his parents that allowed him to live without worrying about that. Their presence and ability to think like him, allowed Ranpo to feel normal in a world that didn't seem that much to him.

In sum, Ranpo's situation can be summed up by one of the sentences from the novel:

« A naive only child raised by genius parents… »

Here is the beautiful family picture that the book paints for us, but that's not all:

So we know that Ranpo's parents were intelligent, his father was respected, but they seemed to live far enough away from the rest of the world that Ranpo might not be able to realize their off-the-charts intelligences.

But there is another characteristic to describe the Edogawa family: they loved and cared deeply for each other.

Well, in truth, we can't really know what the relationship was between Ranpo's parents, but even if he mentions "arguing where his mother had the upper hand", I think it was heated arguments between two smart people trying not to lose to each other, nothing too bad anyway.

What matters most is that they ensured the education and development of their son, at least until their death.

Also, the way Ranpo seems to talk about his parents doesn't hint at a relationship driven by tension.

And it is made clear throughout the book that Ranpo was raised with care and love by his parents and that he loved and respected them deeply.

« You’re special, Ranpo, and if you so desire, you will become a greater mind than even your parents.”

“As if.” Ranpo immediately shot down the claim. “My parents were amazing. There’s no surpassing them to reach the top because they were the top. Neither of them ever told me once that I had a gift, and I believe them. »

« But Ranpo’s parents did that with their extraordinary minds. What was such a feat, if not unconditional love? »

« The only thing he liked was his parents. »

Ranpo often mentions his parents throughout the book and one can clearly feel the respect he had for them and feel that Ranpo out of love and respect for his parents is applying everything they have teach him: Because his mother taught him not to place himself above others, it is unthinkable for him to put himself above someone else, especially when his interlocutor is an adult.

And above all, Ranpo is incapable to place himself above his parents because they were the only people who were ever able to understand him (more on that later) and it’s because he loved and respected them so much that Ranpo can’t imagine going against their teachings.

And it was this lovingly constructed cocoon that was meant to protect Ranpo from the outside world.

« The protective wall his parents created was thick.

That wall protected Ranpo from a world of ordinary people who would fear and fail to understand him, yes{…} »

But unfortunately not everything went as planned.

« {…}but it was also what rendered him unable to step into the outside world. »

II/ The influence of Ranpo's parents in his life following their premature departure

But what were the consequences of this isolated education and stopped too abruptly?

Main effects can emerge from this:

Ranpo's parents "normalized" his level of intelligence, making him feel like his brain capacity was the one of any child or adult. But why? It is true that, one could wonders why Ranpo's parents sought to educate Ranpo in the most total unawareness of his gifts?

The answer is all found in the book:

« So his father knew, after all. He understood that Ranpo possessed an extraordinary gift. That was why he sealed it away. He didn’t want Ranpo to go astray, to ever hurt others and make the world his enemy. »

« His father wanted Ranpo to learn virtue and what’s right just like any ordinary person until he had grown up with good judgment and knowledge. »

All is said. Ranpo's parents were aware of his gift and what it entailed; and they knew the danger that the world could represent for their son if he failed to understand and adapt to its workings.

This is why they sought to hide Ranpo's gift, so that over time, when their son would have matured; he would be able to understand and adapt to the world despite his difference.

However, his parents weren't just doing it for the world, they were doing it for their son first: Ranpo's gift is still a unique talent that many might seek to use but above all they didn't want Ranpo to find himself alone because of his difference.

Why didn't they tell Ranpo that he was smarter than the others?

Well, the situation is quite complex, but from what I understand, Ranpo's parents did not want him to feel excluded from the rest of the world and wanted him to grow up like an ordinary child, so as not to accentuate this feeling of "being different" that Ranpo will have to deal with all his life. They also wanted Ranpo to know how to be humble so that, what he manages to see and divulge is not seen as arrogance.

Moreover, explaining to a child that he is special and different is not easy, because even at 14 years old, Ranpo does not understand why he is the one who had to be different.

« Besides, why would only I be special? There are so many people in the city, so why would I be the only special one? »

« But even if this hypothesis were true, how would one explain that to this kid? “You’re special. You have something that others don’t.” But why? And how different exactly was he? How could it be proved? »

Depending on one's feelings, it may seem more like a twist of fate, a curse, forever preventing him from understanding others and the workings that seem logical to anyone else.

A real feeling of bitterness and frustration coupled with loneliness can arise from all this, especially when others do not make the effort to try to understand in return.

Explaining to a child that he should not act according to what seems logical/correct to him without a concrete explanation is a complicated situation, especially when Ranpo's parents were able to understand him without him needing to adapt. I think Ranpo’s parents didn’t want him to hide his talent but they also din’t want him to feel the pressure that come along with it.

Especially since the difference, when you are a child, is not very well received by other children. They will not try to understand what seems strange to them.

A child does not admire another child for his intelligence, especially if it’s a child who cannot understand others and communicate as expected of him, he will just see him as a weirdo.

Ranpo's father has therefore created a cocoon woven of lies or at least omissions about reality to let Ranpo mature for the time it takes, until he is ready to accept the truth about himself and act accordingly/ appropriately for others to understand.

« He was protecting him, creating a transparent cocoon to protect his extraordinary gift from this strange world. Ranpo’s parents raised him like an ordinary child.

How difficult it must have been to convince him that the world he saw was normal and nothing he knew was anything other than common sense. »

He did not want his child, because of his gift, to have to live a childhood filled with stares full of misunderstandings and judgments. Ranpo didn't deserve to be blamed for that.

« Ranpo, still naive, may have fallen into that trap, but he did not deserve to be blamed. Nevertheless, Ranpo was an extreme case. Although he possessed such extraordinary powers of observation, he didn’t think he was special. Why? Was it his parents’ fault? Was it because he lived a sheltered life with parents who had minds that rivaled his? »

However, the death of Ranpo's parents prevented them from seeing to the hatching of this cocoon and Ranpo was therefore never made aware of his talent and what it involved. Forcing him to live with an idea of ​​a reality that, now, only oppressed him with its lack of logic, which no one seemed to notice.

« But long before Ranpo had fully matured���far before Ranpo was ready for the world—they departed this life. An immature yet gifted larva was stripped of his cocoon and abandoned. »

The only people who could understand him and answer him satisfactorily had just tragically disappeared without leaving him with anything concrete to hold on to. (Apart from the job at the police station but no one there was able to explain to him why the world was so strange).

Which means that Ranpo has kept the vision that his parents have always taught him and transmitted of the world: you are like everyone else and everyone is like you.

« Ranpo knew the secretary was the criminal the moment he walked into the office, but the reason he didn’t speak up was because in his head, he thought the adults in the room all knew that as well. That must be why he kept rambling on about himself rather than the murder. {…} »

But this vision did not help - because where it acted as a protective barrier in his childhood (a barrier maintained by his parents), once immersed in the middle of the active world — this sea without landmarks — at only 14 years old, this vision represented more of an anchor that prevented Ranpo from moving forward.

« He didn’t understand others because he didn’t think he was special. He didn’t think he was special because he didn’t understand others, which only confirmed what his parents had told him. It was unyielding logic that fed off each other{…} »

He couldn't destroy what had been the truth to him for 14 years, especially when that truth was taught to him by the only people he loved and who understood him. And that truth was the only thing keeping his head above water.

And so Ranpo lived in a world where he thought everyone else could see what he saw but everyone pretended not to see because that's what adults do.

And we arrive to a very important new point in this blockage that Ranpo has towards himself and his own abilities; Ranpo is still a kid

He lived all his life isolated with his parents but that was enough, but here he is, released in the middle of the jungle at only 14 years old, in a world that he thinks he understands but which constantly sends back an illogical image to him.

« However, Ranpo still hadn’t realized that what he saw was only visible to him and him alone. He was still immature in that sense. »

Ranpo is a teenager, a very intelligent one yes, but still a teenager, of course he will show immaturity and not correct himself, because even if he suffers from it, it does not make sense for him to do that.

« If a kid like me was able to figure it out, then surely you and the police already noticed a long time ago, right? My mother never got tired of telling me, ‘You’re still just a kid.’ And I agree with her. I really don’t understand what adults are thinking. Sometimes I even doubt they know anything, but that’s not even possible.” »

« “You’re still just a kid.” Of course you don’t understand adults. Because adults are smarter than you. Is that what she meant? It’s not hard to understand why Ranpo’s parents drilled that into his head, at least to a certain degree, and yet… »

Ranpo fails to understand adults and we see that he has already suspected that adults do not see the same things as him but it was an impossible idea because the latter had been taught to him by his mother. This lie, which was meant to protect him, prevented him from accepting his hypotheses. Also the only adult example that Ranpo had in his life was his parents and his parents understood him, his parents were as smart as him, his parents knew. So of course, since this is the only image he has of adults, he cannot imagine another one.

It is as if he only knew the color red but was asked to visualize blue, impossible.

And the fact that the others around him are adults and he is a teenager doesn't help because his mother taught him that adults know best.

A child cannot fully understand adults because he is not smart enough to do so yet, there are some things that you only understand as an adult.

Ranpo's parents must have wanted to instill this value in him so that Ranpo would listen to them growing up and know that even if sometimes his life can diverge, an adult has experiences that allow him to better respond to a situation or how to behave.

But this vision of the adult should surely also help Ranpo to know how to behave if he had to face another adult, he should not be pretentious but respect him so as not to be scolded for no reason.

Especially since Ranpo was educated by his parents to go/fit with the others and to adapt his behavior (so as not to offend those who listen to him and keep a low profil).

« Uh… My father always said, ‘One day, you’re going to surpass your mother and me, and you’re going to win the admiration of all those around you. But now’s not that time. Stay humble and keep your silence. Always be modest. Just quietly observe and don’t hurt others with what you discover.’

…Or something like that. I don’t really know what he meant, though.” »

« My mother told me to never look down on others. »

Ranpo's parents taught him to be silent and they associated this silence with the respect and humility that children should show towards adults. This mechanism was still intended to protect Ranpo and his talent but this mechanism was meant to disappear over time, it was simply to help Ranpo not to make the world his enemy until he was big and mature enough to understand and accept his difference. But his parents were never able to break this mechanism (because they died before they could), leaving him with a defense mechanism that only increases his feeling of odds with others, which is what his parents had done everything to avoid.

"What good would that have done?" Ranpo replied as if he was offended. “You're all adults. Do something about it yourself. What good is asking a kid what he thinks is going to happen? Besides, everyone gets mad when I state the truth.” »

“There it was again. Fukuzawa felt as if something was off. “I have absolutely no idea what adults are thinking,” the kid said—and something about how that came across seemed vaguely wrong. »

Ranpo thinks it's normal for him not to understand adult behavior because he's still a child and he makes sure to remember that. In the novel, Ranpo often refers to himself as a child, because that is what he is, but he also very often puts this word in parallel with "adult", indicating the clear and sharp border that there is in his head. Of course Ranpo think this is the only difference capable of explaining why he does not see the world like the others because it’s the only one he found.

Because of all this, Ranpo doesn't understand others and goes through what his parents always wanted to prevent:

“Most people would probably chalk it up to powers of deduction, but…even if the average person couldn’t understand him, surely the reverse wouldn’t be possible, that he couldn’t understand them? There was a decisive discretion. »

"He didn't understand others because he didn't think he was special. He didn't think he was special because he didn't understand others, which only confirmed what his parents had told him. »

This vicious circle in which Ranpo has found himself trapped is a trap from which he cannot escape on his own because nothing proves to him that he is trapped because no one tries to understand and/or no one succeeds. And his inability to understand other people prevents him from thinking that he would be different, that he could be smarter because who considered himself intelligent if he couldn't solve an equation that everyone else did seem to know how to solve.

All of which brings us to our third point.

III/ The breaking point

“Ranpo was all alone. After losing his parents, he was thrown into a confusing world to wander without a path. He had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. He was merely surviving, existing. »

This sentence sums up very well the true state in which Fukuzawa found Ranpo, even if it was not apparent at first glance.

Ranpo was alone and this loneliness hurt him, broke him a little more every day and no one seemed to be able to understand him or answer him without coming into confrontation with his very precise idea of ​​the reality that his parents had sown in him.

And that's where Fukuzawa's intervention comes in and saves Ranpo from a mental breakdown and the birth of, I think, a real hatred for everything around him.

We will now go into the beginning of an analysis of the parental figure parallel between Fukuzawa and Ranpo's parents and how they are both opposite and similar.

But also an analysis of the adaptation of the anime compared to the light novel.

“Ranpo’s eyes were ablaze with fury. “Seriously, why? It makes no sense to me. I don't understand anyone! Why are adults like this? Why is everyone like this? Someone, just tell me why!” he shouted. This outburst didn't just come out of nowhere. Doubt and stress had been swelling inside him for the longest time, waiting to explode. “I don't understand what anyone's thinking! I'm scared! It feels like I'm surrounded by monsters! It doesn't matter what I say—nobody understands me! My parents were the only ones who did, and they're dead!” This time, he was screaming—an anguished lamentation aimed at nowhere with clear animosity in his eyes”

This is how Ranpo's breaking point is translated in the book; a real cry of rage, a call for help filled with despair that can only be expressed with animosity and anger because the situation has been going on for so long, without any improvement, that only frustration can result.

And we can only understand: Ranpo was alone but and felt misunderstood since forever and the accidental death of his parents did not help to accept this situation.

We clearly feel a rage, a hatred buried in Ranpo that took root a long time ago and finally bloomed.

It's a last cry for help filled with raw, honest sentiments from a teenager who doesn't understand what he's doing wrong.

In the anime this distress isn't expressed in the same way, first because we don't really have time to dwell on all of Ranpo's emotional struggle as much as in the book and we don't have time either to explain how this pain is also related to the death of his parents, because the anime didn't show their importance in his education and growth as an individual.

In the anime, this cry for help comes more like a stifled cry, a surplus of emotion that fails to express itself. You can almost see it as a mechanism that Ranpo adopted; he wants to express what he feels but does not know how to make himself understood, so he is only able to collapse into almost complete silence with clenched teeth, relying only on himself; but he comes to the same conclusion again and again:

« "If there's a skill user here, save me! If there's an angel, then save me! Why must I be alone?! Why do I have to live alone in the middle of a bunch of monsters?” »

Ranpo wants to be saved no matter by whom and despite that all he sees are monsters around him.

And that pressure, those fears, that feeling of not understanding, that has built up over time is so strong in the book.

It's alluded to in a subtle way by all of Ranpo's mentions of his past failures to fit in with the rest. Until it has become too much to bare and take the form of a cry of rage during the opera.

I find that in the book, the oppression of this life that Ranpo has been leading for almost a year is very well illustrated and really supports the character's lost/desperation and how Ranpo was really a bomb ready to explode.

What makes this outburst of anger even more striking is that it is pure and genuine. It's a raw emotion that Ranpo can't express otherwise.

"This outburst didn't just come out of nowhere. Doubt and stress had been swelling inside him for the longest time, waiting to explode. “I don't understand what anyone's thinking! I'm scared! It feels like I'm surrounded by monsters! It doesn't matter what I say—nobody understands me! My parents were the only ones who did, and they're dead!” »

We really feel the broken state in which Ranpo is:

Ranpo has tried to accept himself and understand his environment but despite his best efforts nothing seems logical to him and the others only make fun of him.

This idea is all the sadder when we see how much the death of his parents and the resulting loneliness affects Ranpo on a daily basis: he is a child who does not know that he is special and who has lost the only ones capable of understanding him and giving him this sense of normality and all he feels now is that it's his fault.

Here Ranpo is just the image of a scared child crying for the comfort of his parents.

In the anime, I feel much less this aspect of total rupture; in the novel Fukuzawa compares Ranpo's situation to him being on the edge of an gulp, ready to jump at any moment.

However, even if this comparison is very accurate, it is not really what stands out in the anime.

Ranpo doesn't really seem angry with the outside world, he seems more scared and lost, suffocating in this illogical daily life.

The anime mostly kept this aspect and his impression of being misunderstood by the world, but it didn't really keep the frustration that Ranpo had been able to accumulate, because this frustration takes on more meaning if they had time to talk about Ranpo's parents and the education they gave their sons.

Ranpo doesn't understand the outside world?

In the anime it's because it's a world he had never known before the death of his parents, it's the world of adults and it's a world that seems illogical to him and this absence of logic frightens him, but there is no anger, why?

Because the past vision of Ranpo’s world has not been broken (or at least the situation has not been presented like that to the viewer).

Whereas in the novel Ranpo found himself in the middle of a strange and illogical world whereas until now it made perfect sense thanks to the presence of his parents. So it's easier to understand why in the book Ranpo is reacting angrily, it's because he's frustrated at not understanding what he understood so far and feels like everyone is laughing at him out of pure malice.

I can't say that I find the adaptation bad either, because even if it removed all this feeling of anger in Ranpo, I admit that the anime replacement of it with a feeling of a suffocating helplessness is pretty interesting.

It fills the most important spot; letting us understand just how suffocating was the life he led.

They're just two different expressions of his emotions and two different images of his character.

In the book, Ranpo tries to understand others and fails but he doesn’t accept his failures and it results in anger.

In the anime, Ranpo tries to understand others but fails and therefore forces himself to live with this anguish even it suffocates him until he breaks down.

Two different stages but which stem to an event necessary for the development of Ranpo: his breakdown.

Ranpo can no longer live with such a reality

Ranpo's parents also served to create anger in Ranpo and for me that anger seemed so important to show because it tells us so much about Ranpo and the pressure that has been on his shoulders, it is a part of him . And this anger is all the more bitter when you know that it's just the anger of a 14 year old teenager, it seems so legitimate and you can't help but have empathy for Ranpo because even for us all of this seems too unfair

However, no one told him, explained to him that his view of the world is wrong and that none of this is his fault.

Nobody knew or took the time to do so, before Fukuzawa arrived

That's why Fukuzawa takes on this role of father figure in Ranpo's eyes, because he fills the role that his parents couldn't assumed until the end.

The parallel is so strong and so much clearer in the book because Ranpo's parents are constantly mentioned and paralleled with what Fukuzawa is trying to do: help Ranpo to accept himself and live normally.

I think removing the scenes mentioning Ranpo's parents is a loss, since they are the ones who had the most influence on his life and they are the ones who made Ranpo think the way he does in the past. Especially the mention of the role of Ranpo's parents in his life and his development because they were also supposed to be a parallel with the role (of parent) that Fukuzawa will decide to take on in the life of the great detective and all this parallel was supposed to support that idea.

Which bring us to the last point of this post:

IV/ The birth of Ranpo's blind trust in Fukuzawa

The problem I have with the anime is that everything is very fast. But really very fast, because unfortunately we don't have time to dwell on what can be seen as detail / bonus.

Just as proof of this, the absence of Ranpo's tantrum from the theater is mostly, I think, a way to simplify the after discussion with Fukuzawa and gain time.

In the book Fukuzawa doesn't calmly lead Ranpo out of the room and the two leave with some annoyance towards each other.

The most noticeable difference is that Fukuzawa doesn't know how to help Ranpo right away, and it's not as easy for him to find the right words and solution to appease the young boy.

But mostly, Ranpo doesn't trust Fukuzawa so easily. Because even if he is surely one of the only adults who is ready to listen to him and try to understand him, Ranpo is not going to sweep away everything he believes in just because a “stranger” suddenly explains to him how it works.

Fukuzawa must gain Ranpo's trust before he is able to change him. And I find this scene so important because we see that Fukuzawa did not just arrive with a ready-made solution and easely eclipse everything Ranpo's parents built.

We learn that, this so important trust that Ranpo shows in the manga towards him, this loyalty was won by Fukuzawa and does not simply come from the fact that Fukuzawa has offered glasses and "his gift" to Ranpo

This scene makes us understand why Ranpo gives so much importance to Fukuzawa. Because even if he is the one who found a solution to his problem, he was, above all, able to gain a position of guidance figure, of a parental figure in the eyes of Ranpo.

He took the place of his parents.

But then why isn't this scene illustrated in the anime, when it explains and complicates Fukuzawa and Ranpo's relationship?

Well because of the lack of time, the absence of Ranpo's anger and the abscence of the "presence" of his parents in this conversation.

“My parents were amazing. There's no surpassing them to reach the top because they were the top. Neither of them ever told me once that I had a gift, and I believe them.” »

““Don’t think you can control me with a few compliments.” Ranpo slightly warned his gaze. »

In the book, Fukuzawa tries to get Ranpo to understand the truth by bringing up his parents but it doesn't work as Ranpo only sees it as compliments and more lies.

Ranpo loved his parents and his parents loved him, so it is very difficult to destroy what they have built, especially when Ranpo has only known Fukuzawa for two days in front of his parents who raised him with this love for 14 years.

Still symbolizing the importance of his parents in his life and the influence they have even after their deaths

“He was stubborn. The protective wall his parents created was thick. »

"If Fukuzawa didn't use just the right amount of force, then the damage would be irreparable. »

Fukuzawa must then turn to something else and he must above all be careful not to cross the line, which could break Ranpo.

And even though Ranpo is suspicious, Fukuzawa manages to offer him the start of a new perspective:

“Have you ever thought the people around you were stupid? That they were a bunch of fools who didn't understand a thing?” »

He achieves this by talking about a situation that Ranpo has faced before but does not accept because it goes against what his mother taught him.

But what allowed Fukuzawa to gain the ability to change Ranpo's point of view, what convinced Ranpo to listen to him and stop believing what his parents had taught him.

It's simply: his sincerity.

Whether in the anime or the book, it's Fukuzawa's sincerity that earns him some initial trust from Ranpo.

“Fukuzawa was not an eloquent speaker. He wasn't someone who could manipulate others with his words. There was only one card left up his sleeve that he could play. Sincerity. »

“Ranpo carefully observed his expressions. »

And Ranpo was able through his observation skills to understand this sincerity and to believe in it. It was this sincerity that marked the beginning of the deep relationship that would unite them.

It's almost ironic that Ranpo and Fukuzawa's relationship starts out on both a lie and a truth at their rawest.

“If you refuse to acknowledge your gift, you are no different from the bloodthirsty man I used to be. You must recognize your talents, especially now that your parents are gone.” »

“All he wanted was to be able to tell a little white lie so that this kid could see the simple truth. »

Thanks to this, Ranpo is ready for the first time to believe in something else, he wants to understand and is ready to accept Fukuzawa's explanation because he no longer sees him as someone who could manipulate him but as someone sincere.

“But—then tell me. What am I? What were my parents telling me? Make me understand why I'm here—why I'm like this. If you can do that, then I'll believe you.” »

That doesn't mean he has to deny everything his parents did for him and hate them, no, he just has to find a new interpretation for their behaviors.

Fukuzawa does not seek to antagonize Ranpo's parents and what Ranpo learned from them because they are not the enemies in the story. Ranpo just doesn't have to choose between their version and Fukuzawa's because Fukuzawa manages to make them cohabit between them and I think that helped Ranpo to accept that it's just because of a new factor (his skill) , awaken after the death of his parents that he began to no longer understand the world. It wasn't his fault, he was just unable to control his gift.

And so here come Fukuzawa's lie.

The situation is almost the same in the anime, except for the following:

In the anime, it looks like Fukuzawa thought about and came up with the idea of ​​the ability use naturally, it felt so natural that I even thought it was weird when he tried to backtrack at the end of the episode.

But in the book Fukuzawa gives this answer in a rush because Ranpo gives him the chance to help him get better and that's what Fukuzawa wants to do.

“Ranpo was no longer sulking. Instead, he was honestly looking for an answer—something he'd never done before. And Fukuzawa was the only one who could give it to him. »

"Fukuzawa didn't have much time. If he let this chance go by, Ranpo would probably never seek answers again. »

“Anything would do. He just needed to say something. He had already used the ace up his sleeve: sincerity. He wasn't good at persuading others or speaking eloquently, either. He was even worse at lying. »

“As if by reflex, Fukuzawa said: “Because you’re a skill user.” »

Fukuzawa sincerely wanted to help Ranpo, but he was in a rush and was unable to come up with a more stable plan. It was his environment that influenced his choice. It may seem rash but what mattered for now was that Ranpo could accept that he was not the one missing something but that the situation was reversed: the rest of the world was missing something.

“{…} and the only way to breakthrough was to shine light on something completely new. Something different. »

This status of skill user had become the new beacon in Ranpo's life, it was thanks to this that he could navigate in the middle of this sea filled with lack of logic.

That's why Ranpo clings so much to his status as a skill user at the start of the manga, because it's the only truth that was able to save him and given to him by the one person he has been able to believe.

This was new data that Ranpo didn't know about until the theater incident, so he never got to consider this possibility on his own, which makes the situation perfect for Fukuzawa.

"Yours (skill) is the reason why you're in pain and why everyone seems like a monster." “…???” Ranpo was at a loss. He blinked in silent confusion. »

And even then, Ranpo still doubts, because he doesn't understand why he would be special, because his parents always made him realize that he wasn't but Fukuzawa manages to justify that.

“Your skill awakened when your parents died. »

In the anime Fukuzawa remains calm but Ranpo accepts this "explication" much more quickly whereas in the book, even if Fukuzawa keeps a straight face, he moves forward guided by his impulses and his only goal: to help Ranpo get out of his cocoon.

He must insist, explain, and convince Ranpo of what he is saying.

“Fukuzawa gave thanks to his daily training. He had no idea what he was saying, but his heart was racing, and cold sweat dripped from his palms. Nevertheless, his expression was completely still. »

“Any hesitation in a fight with real swords could lead to death. The enemy must never get the chance to observe your eyes and predict your next move. That was why Fukuzawa was naturally able to keep a straight face, was feeling anguished or terrified. »

And it is with this calm and perseverance that Fukuzawa manages to convince Ranpo of his new status.

But the book shows us the complexity of how Fukuzawa became someone so important to Ranpo and where this blind loyalty comes from.

Then comes the moment when Fukuzawa finds an object to allow Ranpo to focus: the famous glasses.

This symbol of the sincerity and trust that unites their relationship is also the symbol of its basis / of how it all began.

It's a rebirth for Ranpo

« “{…}repeated Fukuzawa as if he were imprinting that thought on a newly born chick’s mind. »

But what matters is that Fukuzawa managed to help Ranpo and that he understands what is really happenning and who he really is.

« "Isn't it all clear now? The world isn't a frightening place. Everyone else isn't a monster. They're just stupider than you." Ranpo caught his breath. He traced his finger around the glasses' frames as he weighted. “But… No, could it be…? »

[intothewestwing]

ch 9. - If I Can't Love Her

It was only a white lie, really, when she had told sirs Cogsworth and Lumiere that she was ready for bed. Belle didn't have a habit of being untruthful. In fact, she was too honest, more than anything, which she often did not recognize was an unwelcome trait.

In Cogsworth's tour of the castle, he often spoke of the lavish parties and events that used to take place. The glittering attire, the elite attendees, the imported decor and cuisine... It was all in "exquisite taste", he had said.

Belle had tried to ask about the magic that quite obviously surrounded the place and its inhabitants, but Lumiere quickly would change the subject and encourage his partner to share more information about the architectural design, or the many, many art pieces throughout the galleries.

What happened here? She wondered.

It was if they feared discussing it. And this was perhaps clearer the further she ventured into the forbidden West Wing. The more she saw, the more horrified she was.

Was the destruction of The West Wing the result of the Beast's anger? The scattered claw marks and scratches up the walls seemed to prove this so.

It was only until she stood outside the door to the main suite that she had any sort of hesitation. The layout was identical to the East, but clearly differed in its state of upkeep. This seemed intentional to Belle, as she could only assume it wasn't just forbidden for her, but for everyone but Him.

With a breath of confidence, Belle pushed open the doors to the suite, and was met with a cold breeze and a stench of disrepair.

The monster's lair, she thought.

It reminded her of one of her storybooks, where adventurers entered a monsters lair, only to find the remains of their missing companions. A mystery solved, but at what cost?

She shivered as she stepped over broken glass and ducked under torn, falling curtains. As she did so, she prayed to any deity that would listen that the demolished furniture that spread across the suite weren't cursed companions like those in the rest of the castle.

She didn't want to know the answer to that mystery, even if the answer wouldn't surprise her.

The suite was dimly lit by a distant roaring fireplace, and it wasn't until she stepped in front of the light and scared herself with her shadow that she noticed the array of paintings along the walls. And after searching for and lighting a small candle, she approached the watchful faces of the paintings and took in every detail she could.

This may be her one chance to find some real answers about the nobility who once resided here.

There were three paintings in total: A completely destroyed portrait of what she could only assume was of the king, a portrait of a woman, a queen, that remained completely untouched, and-

Belle gasped as she saw it. It was torn, by the Beast's claws no doubt, but the eyes... The eyes were unmistakable. The same eyes she had seen in the statue from the passage. These were bright blue, but still filled with the same yearning and aching as the stony figure.

Hello again, she thought.

Though only a portrait, his emotion was clear; He was in pain. Perhaps he was just as trapped here as she was. Even in the portrait, she could feel the anguish they shared- the longing to be set free.

Belle held the candle closer to the painting, careful not to let the flame get too close. Paint was highly flammable, she recalled, as her father had accidentally set some of his work aflame some years back.

The light of her candle drew out the color and detail of the portrait, and almost brought a sense of life to it. She began to reach her hand out, to touch his face the same way she did the statue, but was interrupted by the flame dying, and burning wax dripping onto her hand.

She seethed as she dropped the candle onto the floor, and waited a few seconds for the initial pain to seize before rubbing the dried wax off of her hand. Belle scanned the room for a water pail, or even a flower vase to borrow its water from.

What she found instead was indeed a flower, but without a vase.

Suspended in the air, under a dome of glass, was a single rose.

Perhaps this was what Cogsworth had meant, by implying there was more magic to be found within the castle. This rose seemed anything but ordinary, as its pink glow beckoned her to it. She could've sworn she heard the wind whisper as Belle moved closer.

"Approach..." it called.

Upon further inspection, she saw it was missing the majority of its petals, and the remains of those it'd lost lay still on the table just below it, rotting away in silence. As she touched the glass barrier, the glass melted away and floated around her, as if the very magic that held this rose together was inspecting her in return. It slipped between the curls of her hair and touched the very ends of her eyelashes, before resting in acceptance, beckoning once more for her to engage with the rose.

But just before she could stroke it's delicate petals, the air shifted and warned her once more.

"Run!... Beware!...The Beast!..." It hissed.

"Don't touch that!" The Beast roared, leaping into the suite from the extended balcony. Had he been there the whole time?

Without warning, he shoved Belle away from the rose, and the floating glass returned to its dome structure, shielding the rose in its glassy prison once more.

"What did you do to it!" He growled as an accusation, rather than a question.

"N-Nothing!" Belle caught her breath in her throat as she attempted to push herself back up off of the floor. Her heart was racing as she searched for anything on the ground to defend herself with in case The Beast attacked her further.

Once he was sure the rose was still intact, he slowed his breath. "Why did you come here?" His voice was low and steady, which was almost scarier than his roaring.

"I-" Belle started, before he interrupted.

"I told you never to come here. You could have damned us all!" He refused to even look at her as he spoke. Did he really think so little of her as to not even look at her while he spoke? She thought. How entitled, how selfish, how like a monster.

The tense silence between them broke by the sound of Belle's soft sobbing as her fear began to rise. What would he do to her now? Turn her into furniture to destroy as well? Watch her burn as he used her limbs for kindling?

But her tears only brought Beast's attention to the damage he'd done.

"Oh no..." He began to panic. What would a gentleman do?

Beast reached for her arm to help her up, only for his claws to rip the sleeve off of her dress as she pulled away in fear. He looked down at his claws in horror.

"Don't touch me!" She begged in fear.

"N-No! I didn't mean-" He tried to explain.

"Don't come near me!" Belle pleaded as she found her footing and lifted herself off the ground, holding her shoulder where his claws from the tear had left deep scratches in her skin. As she lifted her hand, warm blood trickled down her arm.

Beast, horrified at what he'd done, froze in place, trying to find the words to say.

Belle wasn't one to break promises, but at the rate her stay at the castle was going, she wouldn't survive another night. Though she felt awful about leaving the castle's servants and the mystery prince from the painting behind, this wasn't a storybook. This wasn't a fairytale with a happy ending. There was no fantasy prince coming to rescue her. And the man with the sad eyes was just that: a fantasy.

It was clear to her now that the prince she longed to know was long dead and gone. She had to escape, for the both of them.

"Promise or no promise, I'm not staying here!" "No! Wait! Please!" The Beast begged, his voice breaking with desperation, but by the time he found the right words, Belle was already gone.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled after her. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I didn't mean to hurt you!"

He felt his legs begin to move, and before he knew it, he was chasing after her. Beast had finally made it to the grand hall before hearing the doors to the castle slam shut. He was too late.

Belle was gone.

[fivedayslater]

Part 18: Lounge

Dinner and a Murder: A Mr. Prince Mystery Masterpost

“Let’s check the lounge,” Sanji says as turns back to the room at large, “Since the candlestick that killed Nami came from here, I want to get a closer look.”

“Alright,” Zoro nods as he gestures in front of him, “Lead the way.”

Sanji begins circling the room. He spots a candlestick similar to the one that killed Nami on a nearby shelf, and sure enough there’s a spot in the accumulated dust where a second one would have gone.

“Looks like the candlestick did come from here,” he says as he turns back to Zoro, “You were right.”

“Of course I was right,” he scoffs, but he can’t hide the pleased smile on his face, and Sanji finds his own form as well.

The woodsmoke from the dying fire is heavy in the air as he keeps searching, tickling Sanji’s nose. As he approaches the fire, he recalls suddenly that the same smell was present on Ace’s body when he examined it earlier.

He looks back at the room, examining it in a new light as he says, “I think Ace may have been killed here.”

“Really?” Zoro frowns as he glances around too, his brow furrowing when he can’t see what Sanji sees, “How do you know?”

“The smoke smell,” he taps his nose, “His body had the same smell, even though he wasn’t in the lounge before dinner.”

“I see,” Zoro smiles as he turns back to him, “You really are something.”

Sanji blushes as he looks away, Zoro’s direct gaze making him feel too giddy, “Yes. Well. Any detective would have realized the same.”

“Why did you become a detective anyway?” Zoro asks as Sanji begins his search again, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Why did you become a detective anyway?”

“Hm?” Sanji hums as he stops and glances back at him, “What do you mean?”

“It’s not really a common career path,” Zoro says as he crosses his arms in front of him, “I don’t know any other detectives that weren’t cops first, but you don’t strike me as a cop.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Sanji says as he tries to figure out how to explain it to Zoro without revealing everything.

But in the end he realizes he doesn’t mind if he does. He wants Zoro to know about him, to understand him. Maybe after everything Zoro could accept him, maybe he could-

He cuts that thought off. No need to run away with himself.

Instead he decides to start from the beginning.

“When I was seventeen, my mother was killed.”

“What?” Zoro’s eye goes wide as he takes a step forward.

“...And I was the prime suspect.”

“What?” He repeats, harsher this time, an angry vengeance in his gaze despite the issue having long been resolved.

“The real killer considered me a nuisance and a burden and wanted me out of the way,” he explains as clinically as he can, “so he did everything he could to frame me. Planted evidence, coerced witnesses to lie, fed the investigators stories about my short temper and violent streak.” He shakes his head, “I think the only reason they didn’t arrest me right away was because I was still a minor and she was my mother.”

Zoro’s gaze goes impossibly soft, and Sanji has to look away again. Still, his presence is a solid comfort at his side, and it urges him to continue.

“I knew I didn’t do it,” he says, “And no one else was looking into other options, all convinced I did it.” He looks back to Zoro, “So I took matters into my own hands, and investigated it myself.” He shrugs, “Turns out I have a knack for seeing things that others miss, a charismatic personality that makes people want to talk, and an inability to take no for an answer.”

“That does sound like you,” Zoro chuckles, “And, you solved it in the end, right?”

“Yeah,” Sanji exhales slowly, “The killer turned out to be her husband. My birth father.”

Zoro’s jaw drops as he gapes at him, “Your father set you up?”

“He…was never a nice man.” 

“I’ll kill him,” Zoro says with a steel edge to his voice that makes Sanji shudder, “If I ever see him, he’s dead.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Sanji rests a hand on his arm, and rubs comforting circles into it with this thumb, causing Zoro to relax under his ministrations, “But it’s fine. It’s all over and done with.”

There is plenty more Sanji can say about that wretched scum masquerading as a human being, but he’d made the decision to wash his hands of him the moment the judge announced the guilty verdict. Instead he chose to focus on the things he did have, and the people who were there for him, “One of the investigators on the case – the only one who actually took me seriously – took me in afterwards. Taught me everything he knew. He was more of a father to me than that bastard ever was.”

“I…wow,” Zoro looks gobsmacked, and Sanji can’t blame him. He lived through it, and even he has trouble believing it happened, “I’m glad you found someone who cared about you. You deserve at least that much.”

Sanji’s face flushes at the softness in his tone, and clears his throat before he continues.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, pulling away to rub his own arm, “I realized there were a lot of people out there who were in that situation though, who have mysteries that need solving, or are being blamed for something that isn't their fault, and that I could help them. So I kept at the detective thing. I find the truth for them, so they never have to feel as helpless as I felt.”

“That’s…” Zoro’s looking at him again with that impossibly soft look, but now Sanji feels he can face it head on, assess it for what it’s worth, “That’s incredibly you, isn’t it?”

Sanji laughs, “Well, I can’t be anyone other than me.”

“And I’d never want you to.”

Sanji blushes and looks away again.

“You’ll solve this mystery too,” Zoro says. There’s a surety in his tone, as if he knows that to be a fact and is just waiting for Sanji to catch up, “You’ll find the truth here. If anyone can, it’s you.”

“I…” Sanji isn’t sure what to say in the face of Zoro’s confidence, so he settles for, “Thanks, Mosshead.”

“Anytime,” Zoro laughs, reaching out to brush his fingers against Sanji, just for a moment, before pulling away again and nodding to the rest of the room, “So, you see anything else we need in here?”

Sanji takes another look around, spotting something shiny by the fireplace, something else under the couch, papers in the trash can, and a cloth tucked in between the cushions of the armchair.

[lhs3020b]

Eversion, by Alastair Reynolds

Let's try reviewing a book, shall we?

I just finished "Eversion" by Alastair Reynolds, and I have thoughts.

Oh, and everything will be spoilers after the cut...

Dr Silas Coade is the physician aboard the sailship Demeter, which is venturing north to investigate a mystery.

No, Dr Silas Coade is the physician aboard the steamship Demeter, which is sailing south to investigate a mystery in deepest Patagonia.

But no, no, Dr Silas Coade is the physician aboard the airship Demeter, which is shortly due to enter a fissure into the Hollow Earth to investigate a mystery far below the surface of the not-entirely-physically-plausible bauble-planet...

But no, no, no ... this isn't it, is it SILAS? You need to wake up before time runs out, entombed here below the ice-crust on Jupiter's moon Europa - Silas? Silas are you listening? Silas are we about to do this again, and what do you mean Dupin hasn't solved the eversion problem yet -

Cut

As quickly becomes apparent, Silas is apparently stuck in some sort of fantastical loop. Said loop appears to be linked to a story that he is attempting to write, in all iterations of it. The structure of the setting varies - the technology level goes up over each loop, but the nature of each loop is less plausible than the one preceding it. The very first loop is something that could believably have happened. The second loop is starting to stretch things a little - how did this crappy ship get all the way down to Patagonia? - but it's not quite jumped the shark, at least not yet. While it's subtle, the behaviour of gravity inside the Hollow Earth is wrong (there shouldn't be a "down" inside a uniform self-gravitating hollow spehere). Oh, and the shell-planet is also self-evidently absurd, though no-one living there sees it as such. The last, and obviously-delusional, loop is straight out of a '40s SF pulp magazine. (In fact it bore more than a passing resemblance to bits of Triplanetary Patrol by E.E. 'Doc' Smith, which I'm pretty sure was deliberate on the part of the author!)

There are several common features to each loop. Silas is always the ship's physician. Ramos has always suffered some manner of head injury. The Demeter, whatever class of vehicle it is, is always voyaging toward a mysterious destination that can only be reached through a fissure, though the nature of the fissure changes each time. In each stage, Dupin, the young mathematician, is always ill and is always working on a problem related to the concept of "eversion". Dupin's condition also progresses - he visibily deteriorates between each cycle, even though the delusions themselves reset. When the Demeter traverses the fissure, they find a bizarre, menacing construction called the Edifice, which appears to be of inhuman origin and whose purpose is not clear. They also find the wreck of another ship, the Europa, which apparently got there first. The crew of the Demeter discover they have been lied to. Disaster swiftly follows, ending with Silas's death.

Interestingly, in every cycle Silas has experienced some form of psychotropic disorder. Usually this presents as an addiction, which he is hiding from the crew (laudanum, then morphine, then the "Radium draught" from the Hollow Earth episode), though later on it takes the form of a supposed indoctrinal machine called the Plastic Educator. It is clear from these episodes that Silas does not have the full facts of his situation - or, perhaps, is hiding from them - though what exactly the real problem is remains unclear.

Also, there is always lightning.

Enter Ada Cossile. The mysterious woman is not present in absolutely every iteration of the cycle - she's notably absent aboard the Interplanetary Patrol spaceship - but when she is present, she acts both as a critic and somewhat of a temptress-figure to Silas. She critiques his writing, often quite harshly, but she also implies (or outright states) that the world that Silas occupies is a lie. She seems to know more than she should.

It slowly emerges that Cossile is trying to draw Silas back to reality, or at least what she views as reality. They are indeed on board a vehicle called the Demeter, except it is actually a lander from a spacecraft, currently trapped below the ice on Jupiter's moon Europa. It is close to an alien artifact known as the Edifice, and there is another wrecked ship - also called the Europa - nearby, as it appears that a second expedition was launched without the knowledge of Demeter's crew. Also, the crews of both have been abducted and are now trapped inside the Edifice, which is stated to be slowly mind-draining them toward death, and it's up to Ada and Silas to save them.

But the reality of the situation is simply too much, and Silas keeps fleeing from it into a hallucinatory fugue-state.

These are not the only revelations, though I have deliberately not mentioned a few points, so as not to spoil every surprise :)

Eversion is a page-turner - I found it hard to put down. The underlying mystery is interesting, and it poses some hard questions about loss and sacrifice - how much sacrifice is justified to save others? As is often the case with Reynolds novels, there's a theme of forbidden knowledge. It would have been better for everybody if they'd simply ignored the Edifice in the first place and no expedition to Jupiter had ever been launched. When Silas learns the truth, it doesn't make him happy, and in fact he's at his happiest at the very end when he abandons reality for the final time and goes to live permanently in what's implied to be his final fugue-state.

There are also - possibly - some unanswered questions. I'm not 100% convinced we've had the entire truth about who or what Ada Cossile was. There could be some hints that she too either does not know the full facts of her situation, or is presenting an edited version. There's one, brief scene in which Silas perceives her as something monstrous rather than alluring. Also, she's very keen that someone has to remain behind inside the Edifice and she's also very keen for the eversion problem to be solved - and who else might be interested in both these outcomes? After all, the eversion seems to be linked to whatever process via which the Edifice became damaged in the first place - a solution to the eversion could also be beneficial for the Edifice. One can wonder if perhaps it realised that the escape of some of its prisoners was inevitable, so instead it devised a "controlled crash" scenario where it's still able to get at least some of what it wants. (Dupin remains entombed within, and the Edifice has control of the wrecks of both the Europa and the Demeter. And with eversion solved, perhaps it can heal itself.) In this model, one has to wonder whether perhaps Ada has been influenced by the Edifice, or may indeed be an avatar of it? It's interesting that Silas seems to keep feeling a need to flee from her, even while he remains fascinated by her - perhaps on some level, he's sensed that something is "off" about her. It's also notable that Ada has a colour-motif associated with her - yellow! - and this is in a novel that is not generally heavy on strong visual imagery. (I also find myself reminded of the famous King In Yellow, a well-known proto-Lovecraftian work, though perhaps this might be a bit of a reach.)

Anyway, none of this is proved - perhaps Ada's story actually is the truth! - though I think a case can be made for it.

Overall I'd say that Eversion is an interesting, challenging novel, and definitely one worth reading.

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

So, it's eh- complicated.

Trust me, shit's not on fire, but I have more contact to Luddick than I ever wanted, I found the Strahov and I know how to get there. I'm still not sold on blackmailing the reporter since he got caught in this...unfortunate mess on accident, but I have no choice. And I will surely not get back to Paris without solving this mystery. I am locked in my hotel room and shoved the cupboard in front of the door and shut the blinds. Hello paranoia!

Transcript of the first and second page: I contacted Luddick and it went as expected, he's furious over my threat and I really did not intend to upset him this way. But do I have a choice? He said he would call me, I will wait until he does so. He did, and fed me information that can be considered secret shit again.

What I gathered in the call: - Vasiley had ties to the Madia and owned something they wanted. They "set the Montrum on him" - The corpse was not to be found since said mafia cleaned all uo and the evidence is mostly gone - (in the middle of his gibberish I suggested to myself to look for the woman who talked to him for infromation) - He knows who Bouchard is, mot much detail, and is oblivious to his death - aaand I should never call him again and the Strahov won't let me in anyway.

What I gathered is not much, but it raises -of course- even more questions. New information is that if the Monstrum was set on Vasiley it was an assassination, and I think I know now the Monstrum is related to Eckhardt for sure, and the woman he talked to has to be Lara Croft, who he probably got into the Strahov. New questions that have risen are how to get into the Strahov without raising suspicion and if the mafia-plot is a cover up for The Agency or are they the same or related? That would tie all to Eckhardt. There's supposedly a Sanitarium in or close to the Strahov, is that my way in? And, Boaz might have had her own place to work at, but did her coworker Grant Muller, too? Is there a botanical research facility?

Transcript of the third page:

Hahaha, you won't beleive it, even if I teleported you to see for yourself. The oldest Sanitarium in Prague is located UNDER the STRAHOV. I don't think that's a coincidence. So there's of course not much to fing on the whole building, who operated it or what the institution behind it was; all I got is this:

it's not even 23 years old, yet was abandoned and it not used anymore

it was built by an unknown party, yet financed by the Argentinian government (Boaz!)

it used to be a place to stay, including a cafeteria, rooms for entertainment, a medical facility and a research area

there were not only Czech people there

it has 8 floors, all being cellars and the eighth is the lowest, where the people lived

there's even a pool for swimming classes

and after an incident it was shut down and never oficially used again.

So it's...a lost place, right?

Transcript of the fourth, fifth and sixth page:

There used to be several parts of the institute that were used accordingly. The overview is as follows:

Dining Room; used as a cafeteria. All patients were to gather and eat together. The food was usually something easy to process and handed by the staff. The tables were for groups only, so no one would be left out. Laboratory; Filled with a lot of paperwork and shelves with information. The patients which required therapy in person were talked to and the notes were analyzed for better treatment. The files were printed (back then that was cool) and categorized. Also, the individual prescription of any of each person was noted among the process of their recovery. Testing Room; A room to evaluate a patient's condition and character. There was a lie detector to not allow contradictory information on the patient's condition, as a huge amount of information on their health is gathered as today via person-to-person evalation. Acupuncture Room; A place to relax and get some Chinese acupuncture. In a lot of medical conditions it is known to bring relief without actual pharmaceutical drugs. The patient would lie on a bed or semi-bed and relax, then one would select the place according to the pain on the body and get punctured by needles. Sometimes the relief came immediately, sometimes one had to redo the treatment every so often. Acupuncture is known to be relatively gentle to the body and psyche. Morgue; When people lived int he Sanitarium and died due to age, rarely due to illness, they were kept int he morgue after death. It's basically a lot of fridges on the wall where bodies are kept fresh until a pathologist would check on the cause of death. Later an undertaler would be called to pick up the dead and contact the family to schedule the burial.

So far, so normal. Not sure if all of the 8 floors contain the same rooms or if they have more specializted floors that have all of the basic rooms. There used to be a visitor's entry which is now closed, you can only enter if you pass the Strahov. Great. I have to find another way...what if there os another way in? I need to check if Muller has his own facility, liek Boaz apparently did. They surely wouldn't use the same place. Could this have been hers?

Transcript of the seventh and eighth page:

I have tried to get in touch with Luddick again, but he doesn't answer. He has yet to update his socials and there is no new article or post by him. It's been a day and a talkative guy like him would not just disappear. He'd love to yell at me at the phone. Where the hell is he? I have aquired an ID for the medical center (which is being sold at the black market for urban exlorers) which should open me ways in, shouldn't it? I sketched a map of the center and my plan to get in, in case the doors are still to be used. If not, I might have to use force, or...something.

My path so far: I'll try to get in and update my way.

UPDATE 1: I just had to cross some loosely made barricades. The doors to the reception room were open. UPDATE 2: My security card worked! It's such a silly thing to say, but it opened. I'm pretty sure this is part of the urban exploring. I'm heading downstairs and there's dust and spiders everywhere. They surely made this look cool. UPDATE 3: I could use the lift, and I prayed to five different deities since this place is running on stolen electricity from somwhere. There was a door labled "The Biodome", I'm still contemplating whether or not to use the lift further down. I stopped since it started making weird noises. UPDATE 4: The electricity is down! I have no idea if that was my mistake. Thank god I haven't t puched the lift again, but I also cannot go back now. I mean...this place is being explored usually, so someone will find me, even if I cannot use the lift now. But maybe the Biodome is the place I'm looking for?

I can hear nothing specifically, it feels like the room after the door is enormously large. Sometimes I think leaves are rustling? I'm contemplating moving further in, or starting to panic and scream my lungs out. But if the Strahov is near I might as well be shot on sight.

Yeah, I'm eating a cereal bar and considering my options. I wish I had someone to talk to. It's getting lonely here.

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 2 • 15 - Sam

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 2 Masterlist • Next If it’s not a support group day or the weekend most of Sam’s days play out the same way, breakfast in the mourning, two periods of classwork, lunch, two more periods of classwork, and finally at 3 PM he can go relax with his roommates.

Sam sits down for breakfast with his other classmates, Sam won't lie, he wishes he could take classes with the older kids, because of Nero the friends he makes are approximately two to three years older than him, and everyone who’s around fourteen like him just feels like a baby. 

His other classmates problem-solve equations and discuss topics from other classes, while he dozes off imagining what his other friends are going through right now.

“Sam, do you know the answer to this question?” Someone asks.

Sam snaps out of his daze to look at the classmate beside him showing him a math equation.

“It’s -1, Madelin, weren’t you supposed to finish this last night?”

Madelin becomes flustered, “I- I did, I just need help with the last question.”

Sam turns away from his classmates again, he gets up from the bench and sets his tray down on the pile and the garbage and recycling.

Heading down the hallway he watches the military boeufs outside, they’re practicing aiming. There’s a drill sergeant next to Nero as she holds a pistol in her left hand, they’re trying to find a way for her to pull the trigger, if she can’t do it in time they're thinking of cloning her left hand and swapping it out. Nero eventually goes back to using her right hand, she aims quite well.

Sam enters the Education Wing, he goes to the second story, entering his homeroom. He sits at the front next to the window, watching the busy streets of Indianapolis.

“I heard you went to the support group this weekend, did you make any friends there?”

Sam looks over to the teacher who walks in.

“Yeah, a Recall named Roland.”

“How old is he?”

“About 19.”

“Don’t you have any friends your age?”

“Not really.”

All his other classmates come in as the bell rings, and the teacher goes over the math homework, of course Sam gets everything correct, a little ‘Thank you Sam.’ can be heard as they correct the last question.

The teacher hands out a page to each student. ‘Find your body family, write down each Rewind you know that shares a body part with you’ it reads.

“This work doesn’t count, so don’t feel pressured to do it, but it is a way to get you out of the classroom.” The teacher exclaimed.

Sam and the others walk out of the classroom, there’s no use for Sam to go ask around if he shares any body parts with others as he’s already asked about it before. Ainsley, Nero, Micheal, Chauntee, Bruce, and Chris are all the Rewinds he shares body parts with, after writing down their names on a window sill outside of the classroom he goes down the stairs back to the Military Boeuf site. 

He walks up the fence and waves at Nero, Nero after the ‘OKAY’ from a drill sergeant walks to the outside of the fence.

“Hey there ya little freak, did teach let you get some fresh air or are you already becoming a Class Rebel?” She headlocks him and gives him a noogie.

“No, I’m just out here for classwork, although I kinda wish I was rebelling.”

Nero puts her hands on her hips, “Still no friends in your class, what a loser!” She laughs.

“Ugh! But they all act like babies!”

“And you’re a Drama Queen.”

“Am not!”

“Oh yeah?”

Nero licks her left hand from bottom to top before shoving it in Sam’s face, he tries to push it away, but his little twig arms can’t beat her muscular ones.

“EEEWWWWWW, noooooo, you got freaking mystery spit all over me! My face is ruined!” Sam yells.

“First of all, I did not get it all over you, I got in on your face. Second of all, it’s spit, it’s clear, there’s no staining, and I don’t have mouth herpes. Third of all, I did not somehow jumble up your facial features, you’re fine Sam.” Nero replies.

Sam sighs. “You’ve got it so much better than me Nero, you get to do your job, and all I get to do is dumb classwork.”

Nero’s face tenses up, before she can say anything a whistle is blown on the other side of the fence. She walks back and speaks to him, “Don’t you ever say that again!'' Then she returns to her post.

Sam walks back up the stairs back to the classroom, there’s already a few of his classmates sitting at their desks.

“Did you find everyone, Sam?” The teacher asks.

“Yeah.”

“Good! Now just wait until the others get back.”

Sam looks over to his classmates playing Quack Dilly Oso.

“Would you like to join us Sam?” one of them asks.

“And play the game that Clappers dressing as caretakers use to blow up preschools, yeah no thanks.” He replies.

The rewind just smiles and shrugs and goes back to playing.

Soon enough everyone comes back to the classroom, they all talk with each other about their new discoveries. 

“You know that girl I look up to,” One of them starts. “Turns out we share a few body parts, it’s so cool!”

“Hey Sam, who do you share body parts with?” Madelin asks.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got Ainsley, Nero, Micheal, Chauntee, Bruce, and Chris.” He tells her.

“Isn’t Nero, like, aged out of the system, she’s gonna get drafted soon right?” Another one asks.

“Yes, she’ll be out in a few months, once they get her a new hand.” The teacher responds.

“Wait, drafted?! I’ll still get to see her, right?” Sam asks.

Everyone looks at Sam with apologetic looks. “Well, if she gets a job as a guard then maybe, but she’ll most likely be put in the military, and Sam, sometimes people don’t come back from tours.” The teacher tells him. 

Sam’s eyes go wide and watery, he doesn’t wait for the bell, or to be excused, or asks to even be excused. He just gets his bag and bolts for the door, he runs down the hallway as people call after him, he doesn’t stop, he just keeps going down the stairs to the lower hallway until his body slams into someone.

“Ewah! Sam, watch where you’re going!” Sam looks up to see Ian and Tonya standing in front of him.

“Oh gosh, are you alright Sam? You look like you’ve been crying.” Tonya picks up Sam, dusting him off. 

“They, they talked about Nero maybe dying at her job, I don’t want Nero to die!” He confesses.

“Oh, Sam.” Tonya pulls Sam into a hug, “Well it is a possibility in the military,” Tonya shoots Ian a dirty look for what he just said. “But, it’s still a sad thing to think about.” He continues.

“Why don’t you sit with us today at lunch?” Tonya suggests.

“But aren’t I supposed to sit with my grade?”

“Eh, I don’t think the lunch guards really care, sure, I’m not setting the best example as a future teacher by letting you sit with us, but I don’t care, because you're sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.”

At lunch, Sam gets to sit with the seventeen-year-olds, surprised that the lunch guards really don’t care. During that time, he, Ian, and Tonya discuss what they can do after school.

“I could teach you how to play chess, you’ll be so concentrated that’ll you forget you were ever upset at all.” Tonya proposes.

“You know how to play chess?” Ian questions. 

“Yeah, when I went to Miss Marple’s Academy for the Highly Gifted that one time, a girl there taught me how to play. I won one out of five rounds I played with her.” She exclaimed.

“How’d you even get to visit Miss Marple’s Academy for the Highly Gifted?”

“It was filled to the brim with siennas, they probably wanted brownie points.”

“Ah.”

“Do you have any ideas on what we could do Ian?” Sam asks.

“Actually, I do!” He pauses, “I was walking around the city on the weekend and saw that there was this cool arcade, and guess what, it stays open until midnight!”

“Oh, that sounds amazing! Do you think we could invite Nero, Sam?” Tonya asks.

“Yeah, I think she would enjoy it there, come to think of it, do you think we could invite Roland? He’s the Recall me and Nero sat with at the support group.”

“Oh, of course, gosh, I feel so bad for him, the stupid Rewind from StaHo 2 who sat beside me kept bad-mouthing the whole time.”

“Huh, never met a Recall before, this should be interesting.” Ian exclaims, “Well then it’s settled guys, tonight we go to the arcade!”

After lunch Sam goes back to class to be met with a plethora of apologies, especially from the teacher who realized that she hadn’t been sensitive enough about the subject, Sam brushes it off before going back to his spot, he stares out the window, the whole time, looking down the street to see if he can catch a glimpse of the arcade, he wonders where Roland lives and if he knows of the arcade. Sam suddenly realizes that it’s probably impossible to invite Roland if they don’t know where he lives, so he lets go of the invitation. Maybe the hospital nearby knows where Roland lives, but they probably wouldn’t tell 4 random Rewinds of his location. The bell rings, and Sam gets up from his seat and walks out the door.

Getting to his dorm the first thing he does is get his homework over with and then, picks through his small pile of clothes imagining what he might wear to the arcade tonight. After choosing an outfit and going downstairs to eat he lays on his bed, waiting for 5:30 PM to roll around so that Nero will be done with work for the day.

At 5:15 Sam heads downstairs to the StaHo’s common room, he meets up with Ian and Tonya. 

“Are you excited? ‘cause I’m excited!” Tonya asks.

“Yeah, but I realized we probably can’t invite Roland since we don't know where he lives.”

“Ah, shame.” She replies

Soon enough, Nero enters the common room with Ian, Sam, and Tonya cornering her at the entrance.

“Umm, what’s this about?” She asks, bewildered.

“We were gonna go to the arcade, we’d like to know if you’ll join us?” Ian announced.

“The arcade two blocks over, sure. It’s just the four of us?” She questions.

“Well I was gonna invite Roland, but…” Sam starts.

“You don’t know where he lives,” Nero responds.

“Yeah.”

Nero squints her eyes, thinking. “I could find him.”

“You’re not gonna do anything creepy right?” Ian asks.

“Oh god no, I think I’d scare the living daylight out of Roland if I did anything remotely weird,” Nero answered.

Confirming where they’re going to the receptionist, they head out the front door.

“Where are you going first?” Sam asks Nero.

“The hospital, and Sam, if I’m not with you at the arcade within two hours, call the police.”

[gilly-laughs]

Poker Face Ep 1-4 Review

I have watched all four episodes of Rian Johnson's new crime mystery show Poker Face. In my previous blog post I questioned why four episodes had been dropped all at once. I'm still not sure but I wanted to share some of my thoughts on these episodes. Mild spoilers to follow.

The first episode has the unenviable job of introducing the main character, her circumstances, her personality, and the hook for the rest of the season. It does this while also having it’s own crime mystery for Charlie to solve. The opening is very Colombo showing off the entire crime before rewinding a bit and shifting to Charlie’s perspective. Seeing the time of the crime from her pov without cutting to the crime really grounds the audience in the character. We know what really happened but we get to see Charlie poke at the pieces she sees.

The aesthetics of the show are perfect for the “seventies/eighties weekly crime mystery show” style they’re going for. Frost Jr’s suits are perfect and the casino also has slightly outdated look. Natalie and Charlie’s cars are older models that invoke that past time period. And the Mother of Pearl handle gun is just chef’s kiss. Despite the older aesthetic, smart phones and tablets do show up in the episode and are smartly integrated into the plot. The villain is smart enough to erase evidence from a phone and even check that he isn’t being recorded at one point but slips up in other ways.

The ending of the first episode is strong. Charlie solves the murder of her friend and gets back at the men who killed her. Her victory is short lived after Frost Jr kills himself in disgrace, which puts her on Mr. Frost’s short list. Thus the premise of the show, Charlie Cade, human lie detector, on the run from Mr. Frost’s men, is established.

Watched the second episode and I loved it. It’s very Incredible Hulk or The Fugitive with the main character wandering from town to town getting mixed up in the local crime of the week. I really like that the show isn’t afraid to spend time (17 minutes this episode) setting up the crime before Charlie shows up in the episode at all. The one thing I’m missing is a short intro explaining the premise; not because the show needs it but because it would fit with the style of the show and be fun.

Something like, “Charlie Cade is a human lie detector. Her best friend was murdered by the men who run Las Vegas. She uncovered the truth and now she’s on the run from Mr. Frost and his right hand man Cliff. They will stop at nothing to find and kill her.”

I like the recurring bit with Charlie not being able to remember a word. They did it a couple of times in first episode and once in the second. It’s a fun audience participation moment; the grownup version of a Muppet asking you to sound out the word on the screen.

Charlie’s lie detector skill is used but it isn’t the crux of the show. She does plenty of boots on the ground information gathering and investigation; mostly using her skill to ferret out contradictions (in a very Colomboesque manner).

The episode’s ending is a little week because Charlie has to run before seeing Jed getting arrested. The fact that we do see the police pulling up, lights and sirens blasting, lets us know he doesn’t get away with it after all.

Episode three is the first episode not directed by show creator Rian Johnson who wrote the first episode and directed the first and second episodes. The show’s style is so well defined that I did not see a noticeable difference. Plus it can be hard to say what differences are from directing, writing, or editing.

I was sad about the dog until it turned out to be a “MAGA dog”. It’s a funny bit and lessens to blow of the dog’s apparent death (spoiler the dog lives but is still racist). I thought the dog was going to stick around as Charlie’s “sidekick” but thankfully it gets a home at the local radio station.

The music cues while Charlie was tasting the different woods was a very interesting way to convey that information. Later when she first smells the cinnamon floss we hear an air horn which calls back to George calling it an air horn at the symphony which Charlie literally calls back to in the scene a minute later. And then later the lack of a sound becomes instrumental in unraveling the murder conspiracy.

It’s a little funny that this show, that streams on Peacock, would include Okja, which was a Netflix movie, as a plot point.

In this episode unlike the last one, Charlie gets to stay on the scene until the police show up giving her and us closure before she fades away. Overall I think I liked this episode a little bit more than the second but all three episodes so far have been very good. On to the next episode.

The fourth episode feels like the weakest episode so far. It’s still good but lacking some of the complexity of previous episodes. The murder is fairly straightforward and so Charlie’s investigation doesn’t have many twists to uncover.

I expected Ruby to deny Gavin wrote the song and for that to lead to a gotcha moment but it didn’t because she just admitted it. She checks out the amp and sees that it has the three prongs. So it should have been safe, which again felt like it should have lead to a gotcha moment but also just goes no where. And when Charlie realizes the whole band was in on the murder not just the one guy, that felt like it should have raised the stakes but she just accuses the whole band and gets kicked out.

Cliff showing up also was kind of anticlimactic. The villain’s right hand man catches up to her and she easily evades him and escapes.

The ending, where the song’s melody is revealed to be copied from the sitcom Gavin was watching and having the whole murder plot exposed by a true crime podcaster, was the best part of the episode. Still an enjoyable episode and if I wasn’t writing this review I probably wouldn’t have thought to much about it.

So, did Poker Face need a four episode drop? No, I don’t think so. The first episode is outstanding and has a strong story hook to bring back the audience in the following weeks. If they had wanted to play it safe, dropping the second episode as well to give a taste of the weekly format wouldn’t hurt. I just don’t know what is gained by dropping almost half the season, four out of ten episodes, on the first day. I’m not complaining to hard because the show is great and I plan to keep watching it in the upcoming weeks.