#she could have given me SUCH a deduction for length. and she did not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminrings · 3 years

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yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

#WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT :O PLACE UR BETS BESTIES #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook scenario

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angelicsentinel · 2 years

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I would love to know about 10, 17 and 18 as well. Sorry for sending too many asddsgfh, they all just sound so exciting! >v<

//Wick 0v0

Listen. Listen. I'm a writer. Actually wanting to know about my WIPs makes you my new best friend. Ask me. Please ask me. I will speak about them at length. I can't believe you find them exciting but thank you ;-;

This is a pretty eclectic motley. All three of them happen to be vaguely gen, surprisingly.

17 is Werewolf Ran. Look. I'm human just the same as anyone else, and Ran's my type, okay. Make her over 2 meters tall, give her inhuman strength, and have her protect her best friend? Yes please. Indulgent as hell, but everyone needs one of those. Most likely eventually RanAo.

10 is Almost Always. It was my first try for the KaiShin One Prompt challenge. It's not very long, mostly just vibes, and it's & KaiShin, platonic. I think I meant for there to be cape cuddling afterwards.

18 is Solidarity. Was thinking Bi x Bi Solidarity for this one. Ran and Shinichi decide they need to see other people and are bros about it. Never went anywhere because I never decided on ships. That's the worst part about being a multishipper, I think.

17.

Shinichi struggled against his bonds on the altar-like table outside the facility, echoing through the corridor. He could hear Ran’s screams echoing through the corridor, and that made him tear at his wrists, making them bleed. They were tied above his head while his feet were tied to the ornate gargoyles at the corner.

Shinichi was unsure exactly what they were going to do to him, but he was sure that it wasn’t going to be pretty, given his positioning.

And Ran. He had to escape. He had to help her. His struggles became more fierce, but also more futile. The ropes wouldn’t budge.

A howl, chilling him to the bone. A vaguely bipedal wolf walked out of the building, blood on his maw and on his wide, inhuman claws.

No. Not a him. She lacked the parts. A thick mane ran down the center of her back, and a forelock curled over one ear like a horn.

“Ran?” he asked. It was impossible, but he was certain in his deduction. She wagged her tail, then cut through the rope in one swipe of her claws, picking Shinichi up and throwing him over her shoulder.

“This is so undignified,” Shinichi said, and Ran growled at him, holding on to him.

Someone shot at them, so Ran turned to protect Shinichi and snarled. Her roar knocked them all on their tails.

10. almost always

The climb took some time, metal cold under Kaito's gloves. Shinichi had nestled himself on a small platform about two thirds of the way up, legs dangling over the side while his chest pressed against the middle bar of the railing and he leaned over it with both his arms crossed, looking out at the city. It appeared to be of solid construction, but Kaito couldn't deny the sight made him uneasy. "Ah, Detective, it's an awfully long way to the ground from here."

"Go away, KID."

"Makes me dizzy just thinking about it."

"Go. Away."

"Hmm. Can't do that."

A growl of frustration, but he said nothing else. The radio tower blinked red into the night sky.

"I won't be good company."

"Doesn't matter."

18. Solidarity

Ran lifts her head from his chest, perhaps to kiss him again, and Shinichi’s biting his lip, face downcast.

“Shinichi,” Ran says. “What’s wrong?” It’s a wonder, too, how alike they are in this. He’s beautiful beside her as they cuddle together, and the heat of his skin feels nice, but something is missing. It feels like something vital, something that’s supposed to be there but isn’t.

“Ran, I,” he begins, but he stops. It’s like he can’t come out and say it. Ran can’t blame him. She doesn’t think she feels it either.

“You didn’t feel anything, did you?” Ran asks.

“No,” Shinichi says. “Ran, I’m sorry I,” he trails off again. “It was nice, but I,” he worries his lip some more. “I love you.”

“I love you too," Ran says. "But I'm not in love with you."

"Yeah." A long pause. "The sex was fun though," he says.

"Totally," Ran agrees.

"Are we breaking up?" Shinichi asks.

"Yeah, I think so," Ran says. "Do you mind if we keep having it, though?"

"Why would I mind?" Shinichi asks. "You're still my best friend."

"Mine, too," Ran says.

"This is less awkward than I thought it would be," Shinichi says.

"Yeah," Ran says, and they get back to cuddling. “I’m glad we figured this out before we got married.”

“Yeah,” Shinichi says. “Me too.”

"Okay, so. Shinichi?" Ran says. They're sitting on the beach, Ran in his lap, Shinichi with his arms around her, and in front of them, their friends are playing beach volleyball while the two of them rest in the shade of a large beach umbrella.

It would be cozy and romantic, if they were actually dating. Now Ran just appreciates them leaving her alone, and appreciates Shinichi being her shield.

"Yeah?" Shinichi asks.

"I think I have a crush on a girl."

"Oh." He pulls her closer. "Ran?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I like guys," he says.

“‘Guys?’” Ran giggles. “Or just a specific guy?”

Ask me about my wips

#dcmk #detective conan #magic kaito #kuroba kaito #mori ran #kudo shinichi #kaishin #but platonic #shinran #but also platonic #cw blood #but just a little

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kodzumie-archived · 4 years

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can you do some yandere!mikan nsfw hcs?

❝YANDERE! NSFW❞

Synopsis; Yandere Mikan certainly is a freaky one, isn’t she?

Featuring; Mikan Tsumiki x GN! Reader

Warning(s); Yandere themes, nonconsensual somnophilia, drugging, manipulation, blood (taking of blood samples), blood kink, consumption of blood, cum eating, mentions of piss (watersports), masturbation, use of sex toys, mentions of needles, and intentional misuse of medical supplies. (Things do get pretty fucked and gross, please pay attention to the warnings!)

Kodzumie’s Note; Absolutely! Thanks for your request, and I hope you’re doing well. Muah! <3

➤ MIKAN TSUMIKI

⤷ She’s calculating and rapacious; plotting all the ways she can get you to succumb to her. She practically thrives in the vulnerability you’ve unknowingly put upon yourself due to the blind trust you’ve put in her.

⤷ As hopelessly in love as she was, Mikan was aware; she knew that it was far too soon and sudden to formally ask you to engage in such bare intimacy with her. She was also aware of the possibility that you wouldn’t even want to do something so lewd with her.

⤷ But she can’t help herself. So much has been taken from her by those who’ve recognized her weaknesses, her bullies taking anything and everything as she’s unable to do a thing. Isn’t it only right that she’s a little selfish?

⤷ It’s not like you’d mind, of course. You can’t mind something if you don’t even know it’s happening, right?

⤷ Mikan’s desires surge through her with insuppressible fervor. Yet she wouldn’t dare do something so reckless; she wouldn’t dare run the risk of tarnishing your treasured friendship.

⤷ So she covers her tracks. She takes full advantage of your trust within her as a friend and the faith you’ve put within her talents as a nurse. A common tactic she’s picked up is replacing the sugar within your tea—which she orders you to drink to retain good health—with a finely powdered drug; their appearances akin with only a minuscule difference.

⤷ After drinking, you’ll subconsciously succumb to the effects of the drug within fifteen minutes, and then she’ll begin her ministrations; pampering your unconscious body and exploring your most intimate realms.

⤷ A hidden utopia reserved for only the eyes of those you’ve allowed seeing you so bare; so exposed. And, even if you hadn’t known it, Mikan was those eyes. Peering down at you so sickeningly gleefully as she thinks to herself; Your body, sprawled beneath her, was all for her.

⤷ As you’re knocked out, there isn’t an inch of skin she doesn’t smother in sloppy, wet kisses. Her breathing rapid and crazed.

⤷ She savors each moment; relishing in your taste as she sears the memory of every sensation into her core memories. She will never allow herself to forget the blissful oasis of her beloved’s body.

⤷ At first, you’d only assumed that your state of fatigue and extreme exhaustion were the aftermaths of stress. It was understandable; that week had been your finals week.

⤷ And yet, it kept happening; moments where you feel fine, but then you’ll experience powerful waves of nausea before slipping unconscious. So much so, that you asked Mikan about it, of course. She was the Ultimate Nurse, after all.

⤷ Just like you expected, she managed to deduce the possible reasonings behind your experiences. Even going as far as to pinpoint habits that are a common occurrence before you fall into such a vertiginous state.

⤷ “W-Well, typically it’s when you’ve consumed a beverage with sugar.” She deducted, a thoughtful visage as her soft features sharpened with determination. “If I remember right, you’d felt particularly nauseous after you drank tea with sugar that one time.”

⤷ “That can’t be a coincidence though! It happened another time too. Remember when I gave you those sugar cookies? You fell unconscious from those too...” She ponders, her bottom lip jutting out in thought. Your eyes widen as the dots connect internally. That is true, all the instances had been induced as you’d consumed anything with sugar.

⤷ “If you’d like—“ Mikan’s voice cuts out as she nervously squirms under your curious gaze, her hesitant nature bringing a smile to your lips. “Take your time.” You assure her, placing your hand over hers to, hopefully, calm her nerves. If only you knew what you did to her and her poor little heart.

⤷ “W-Well I just thought that if I took some blood samples, I-I could confirm my suspicions!” She exclaims, cheeks flushed as her gaze remained fixated on your hand atop her own.

⤷ Your eyes widen once more as they glimmer with surprise and appreciation. “Would you really do that for me?!” She’s taken aback by your exclamation, accidentally tearing her hand from yours as she falls backs.

⤷ But she’s quick to recover, smile faltering at the lost connection of your hand with hers. “Of course!” She confesses.

⤷ And that’s how it began, her odd secondary obsession. Behind you, of course.

⤷ You hadn’t given her suggestions much thought other than that you trust Mikan, and what she was doing was simply what’s best for you. This was her talent, her field. If you couldn’t trust her with what she did best, who could you possibly trust?

⤷ So she began taking samples of your blood. At first, it was only a weekly thing. Once a week, she’d draw out enough blood to fill a miniature capsule and examine it to determine the underlying causes for your sudden fits of falling unconscious. Though she was more than aware of the true reason.

⤷ For each blood sample she took, she returned to you with the discovery that the amount of glucose within your blood was alarmingly high, and that her hypothesis was, in fact, correct.

⤷ But that’s all lies. Lies, lies, lies that you oh-so-helplessly believe. Mikan’s the nurse, she knows best. Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best!

⤷ Regardless, you believed her. And you provided her the weekly blood samples as she instructed. Though it was a bit tedious to have the pricking of a needle within your arm so often, it was better than randomly passing out at the most unfortunate of times.

⤷ Once she collected the capsules, she informed you that she’d take them back to her house where she can perform more thorough research. Since all of her equipment is there, of course!

⤷ You don’t question it. Not even as you wonder what she’d done with the capsules after weeks of no word of them. Surely she threw them away. You shouldn’t question her, you trust her, after all!

⤷ If only you’d questioned her. If only you’d taken the second to doubt her; debunk your trust in her. Perhaps then you’d have realized the red flags within everything.

⤷ Within the confines of her bedroom, Mikan’s moans are barely concealed as she unscrews the capsule filled with the familiar crimson liquid; your blood.

⤷ Her mind fuzzy with idea of her possessing such a fluid. Your fluid, of all things. Her obsession fueled further as she coats her fingers in the viscous liquid. It was still warm, still so fresh from within you. The thought of how this blood was once within your body sends jolts of depraved pleasure down her spine.

⤷ She lathers the blood around her fingers, savoring the sensation. A shaky sigh of ecstasy escaping her lips as she stutters out a moan. Everything was so overwhelming at that moment. She was in disbelief, yet oh-so alarmingly aware. This was your blood. This was your blood.

⤷ “Ha...Aha!” A delirious moan escaping her lips as she swirls her blood-coated fingers over her clit. The stimulation paired with the searing reminder that it was your blood beginning to smear over her clit instantly sent tremors through her legs.

⤷ The pleasure felt so intense; so very intense. Even as she has pumps two fingers into her pussy, stretching herself out as your blood coats her walls, it all felt so intense. Almost unbearable. The feeling of your blood within her driving her to the brink of insanity as if she hadn’t already plunged into the abyss of madness.

⤷ Yet even as her fingers continued to plunge into her sopping cunt—her slick blending with your blood—she couldn’t help but yearn for more. She wanted to have your blood coat her walls entirely. And her petite fingers simply wouldn’t do.

⤷ Thankfully, she has just the thing. Within her hands she cradles a dildo, having already removed her two digits from her cunt as she eagerly drags her fist down the girth of the toy. It’s lengthy. Good.

⤷ She grabs the previously discarded capsule which still witheld blood. Perfect; everything was perfect.

⤷ Mikan tilted the small bottle, drizzling the viscous crimson fluid as it glazed over the dildo, painting its pink exterior in a contrasting red.

⤷ As the bottle emptied, the last of your blood poured onto the toy, an eerie giggle escaped Mikan’s lips. Her eyes swirling with psychotic euphoria as she pumped the blood upon the length of the dildo. Successfully smearing the blood all over the toy, not a trace left untouched.

⤷ Her breathing turned erratic. Huffs of air forced from her lungs as she sunk onto the blood-coated toy. It stung; the stretch searing through her senses as she gasped, squiriming in discomfort. And yet, it felt so damn good.

⤷ Your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her—

⤷ The idea driving her mad as she bounced, squelching air bubbles caused by the drool of her pussy mixed with the blood, arousal poisoning the air as she released an unsettling laugh, moaning mid-way through.

⤷ This was it. This was true happiness! To be filled with your fluids, no matter what they made be. Stuffing her pussy full of you and anything reminescent of you. This was true ecstasy.

⤷ The blood upon the tip of the dildo nuzzling against her cervix—painfully—yet smearing your blood deep within her.

⤷ It’s painful. Her thighs ache as she bounces, yet she craves the stimulation; the pleasure. It’s so overwhelming she trembles, shaking until she’s attempting to squirm and retreat from the toy as her orgasm begins to bubble within her stomach, ready to boil over.

⤷ And so, the string snaps; her climax washing over her with violent shudders and breathless sobs. Her cum oozing around the base of the dildo as the length remains snuggled within her clenching pussy.

⤷ Mikan breathes heavily, shifting her weight to ease her knees as she moans. Every movement forced a jolt down her spine, her cunt throbbing with sensitivity.

⤷ Her fingers delicately brush over her stretched slit, toy still buried within her as she dabs her digit in the mess, coating her fingers in her cum mixed with your blood.

⤷ It was a rosy hue; the translucent, milky white of her orgasm and your deep vermillion blood mixed together. The dew an embodiment of the connection you and her shared; your shared fluids mixed into an addictive concoction.

⤷ Mikan brings her fingers to her lips, sucking on the mixture as she licks her digits clean. It tastes so good; it tastes like love. It tastes precisely like the bond you two shared, a bittersweet cocktail.

⤷ And as she layed spewing your combined mixture of love—an unknowing commitment and the blossoming of yet another depraved addiction—she couldn’t help but grin. She couldn’t wait for how many more times she’d pleasure herself with your fluids.

⤷ What more could she take from you? What more could she use to satisfy her needs, yet keeping a piece of you with her? She wanted more. She needed more. But she knew better than to be impatient.

⤷ One day, you’ll willingly engage in such ludicrous acts with her. One day, you’ll provide her with whichever fluid she selects; blood, cum, spit. Hell, she’d even accept your piss. She just wanted more of you, you, you!

⤷ She’ll wait. She’d wait a millenial for you; lifetimes. If it’s for you, she’ll do anything and everything. But for now, she’ll settle on waiting; waiting as your blood coats the valleys of her pussy’s walls. If she can’t get you, she’ll get the next best thing.

#yandere #tw yandere #sdr2 x reader #dr2 x reader #mikan x reader #mikan tsumiki x reader #danganronpa x reader #mikan hcs #mikan headcanons #mikan imagines #danganronpa hcs #danganronpa scenarios #danganronpa imagines

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riversofmars · 3 years

Text

Love Is Begun By Time

So this is sort of my contribution to Pride Month... two wlw couples breaking out of the Tower of London to steal a jewel from Queen Elizabeth I. River/13 and Liv/Helen!

Featuring:

endless River/13 banter and healthy relationship

Liv being a gay mess

River flirting with EVERYONE

Helen being cute, clueless and working through the prejudice of the time she grew up in

aliens in Elizabethan London

BAMF River Song

Shakespeare quotes

Eight being a clueless himbo

Anyway! Happy Pride!

Love Is Begun By Time

“Any bright ideas?“ Helen Sinclair shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable but no matter how she tried, she didn’t seem to be able to. The heavy iron chains that kept her fixed to the wall left her with little wiggle room.

“Nothing springs to mind…“ Liv Chenka looked around the dirty dungeon cell. The stone wall behind her was cold and hard against her back, the ground was wet and grimy; the straw did little in the way of cushioning. The metal of the chains had started digging into her wrists and were rubbing her skin red and raw. She’d just about had it with being locked up. “This is usually when the Doctor turns up to save the day…“ She groaned, annoyed at the situation they found themselves in. Liv had always been partial to trips to her ancestral home-world but since getting locked up in the Tower of London pending execution, she had quickly fallen out of love with Elizabethan England.

They had lost track of how long they had been imprisoned for as there was very little natural light. All Liv knew for sure was that she was getting hungry. As she considered the hopelessness of their situation, she glanced to Helen in the twilight. She was huffing and puffing, trying to get comfortable and Liv smiled a little, despite it all. She was glad that she wasn’t alone. If she was to choose someone to be locked up with, it would be Helen Sinclair. Liv’s thoughts on how lovely her best friend looked in period dress were interrupted when she heard distant voices.

“Can you hear that?“ The med-tech looked up and listened out. The walls of the dungeon were thick but she was sure someone was heading their way.

“Voices?“ Helen listened up as well. “Maybe someone is coming to get us, maybe it’s the Doctor! Hello?!“ She called out but there was no response. There were, however, voices in the corridor and they were getting close enough to make out.

“You just had to do that, didn’t you, you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself!“ The first voice was female, distinctly Northern and obviously deeply annoyed.

“Well, how is one to keep one’s hands at one’s sides when one is pressed to one’s wife in a broom closet.“ The other voice - also female and oddly familiar - seemed to be taking the whole thing far less seriously.

“That voice…“ Helen had noticed it too and they exchanged confused glances. It was incredibly familiar but neither of them could quite place it, not yet anyway.

“We were hiding!“ The Northern woman snapped, still getting closer, and the response came promptly:

“You needn’t have squeaked like that!“

“You could have given me some heads up before jumping right in.“

“What can I say, sometimes foreplay seems like wasted effort.“ The exchange was quick, witty and effortless. Whoever they were, they knew each other very well and knew how to press each other’s buttons.

Liv raised her eyebrows at the statement, trying not to chuckle. She spotted the expression on Helen’s face, noticing a faint blush at the impropriety the words insinuated, and in Elizabethan times no less!

“We’ve been married for thousands of years, you still need warning?“ The familiar voice teased.

“Well, this body is different…“ The heavy wooden door opened and a blonde woman came into view. Her hair fell in a short bob, her clothes were a colourful ensemble that did not match the local trends of fashion and her bright eyes were firmly fixed on the woman beside her who smirked:

“Yes, I have noticed.“

Liv and Helen gasped in surprise as they recognised none other than Professor River Song, time travelling archeologist and wife to their best friend! She was lead into the cell alongside the blonde and appeared to be teasing her with great enthusiasm.

“Shut up, the two of you!“ The guard that was accompanying them snapped. He had clearly heard enough of their bickering along the way. “Get in there.“ He gave them both a shove.

“Alright, alright, no need to be like that.“ The blonde rolled her eyes.

“Now, really that’s no way to treat a lady.“ River feigned outrage. She straightened out the era appropriate dress she was wearing - much like Liv and Helen themselves. She looks fantastic in a corset. The unbidden thought struck Liv like a punch in the gut. She forced her eyes away and focused on the other woman instead. Her long coat, rainbow t-shirt and odd three-quarter length trousers were certainly not of the time; the only logical deduction was that she was a time traveller, too. Perhaps they had just found their way out of their awkward situation.

“You will hang in the morning for attempting to steal the Queen’s jewel.“ The guard snapped, glaring at the two women who seemed remarkably unfazed at the prospect of their impending execution.

“Not to mention the indecent behaviour, right?“ River called after him but he didn’t respond, he just threw the door shut.

“River?“ Helen spoke up first and the two new arrivals looked around, surprised. They had been too caught up in their conversation to notice the two women chained to the wall.

“Liv? Helen?“ It was the blonde that spoke first and they looked at her in surprise. How does she know our names? Liv wondered. Had they, perhaps, come to save them? Or maybe she was someone from their future? Maybe they just hadn’t met yet. She didn’t have an opportunity to continue the thought process as River demanded their attention:

“Hello girls!“ A wide grin spread across the professor’s face. “Fancy seeing you here!“ She turned to the woman at her side: “Don’t tell me you’ve done this before.“

“I don’t remember it.“ The other woman shook her head slowly. “But of course, must be because of the time lines crossing.“ She exclaimed, as if the penny dropped. “Come here you two!“ She skipped over and threw herself at them for tight hugs that they couldn’t evade in their tied up state.

“Do we… know you?“ Liv frowned pulling away as much as she could manage. It wasn’t that she disliked a hug from a pretty girl, she just usually preferred introductions first.

“Oh right, the body, uh…“ The blonde straightened herself up, confused for a moment, she looked to River for help who started laughing.

“This is the Doctor.“ River gestured to the blonde who gave a sheepish grin.

“No…“ Helen’s eyes widened in shock.

“Really?“ Liv was just as dumbfounded.

“What can I say, regeneration is a lottery.“ The Doctor grinned and took a little twirl that was so very much like the Doctor they knew.

“And you hit the jackpot this time around.“ River smirked as she regarded her wife’s backside while the Doctor faced her friends again.

“I’ll say…“ Liv found herself saying before she could think better of it.

“So you two are still…“ Helen looked to River, seemingly confused.

“Thirteenth honeymoon, if you will.“ River grinned.

“Right…“ The language scholar managed a smile that wasn’t quite comfortable and it made Liv’s heart sink. Of course. Helen, despite all the wonderful adventures they had been on and all the extraordinary things they had seen, was still a woman of her time, Liv realised. Born 1933. It wasn’t usually noticeable. She took scientific advancement and alien life in her stride but every now and then, a little bit of her upbringing, the time she was raised in, shone through.

Liv rarely thought about their different backgrounds, in most things they were so very much alike; but still occasionally, the awareness of it painfully push itself to the forefront of Liv’s mind. Usually when she considered how the light reflected in Helen’s bright, intelligent eyes or how much she missed her when she wasn’t right there by her side. The awareness remained like a wall, in insurmountable obstacle, that Liv never dared approach. It was what always kept her hand firmly by her side, rather than slipping into the one well within reach.

“Thirteenth?“ Liv forced herself out of her painful thoughts and instead marvelled at how different that Doctor was to the one they were travelling with. She had seen them change before and learned how one person could wear different faces, but that was quite a change indeed.

“Long time into my future - your future - however you want to look at it.“ The Doctor seemed to appreciate that it was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to need some time to process this…“ Helen laughed lightly, seemingly over the initial shock.

“Maybe you could get us out of these chains in the meantime?“ Liv suggested as her right hand was falling asleep and her wrists stung.

“Well, Ms. Chenka, in my experience there is a lot of fun to be had with restraints.“ River gave her a wink and Liv rolled her eyes. Did River Song have any other modi operandi apart from witty seductress and deadly assassin?

“Very funny.“ The med-tech huffed, hoping the little bit of pink that snuck onto her cheeks didn’t show in the dark of the cell. She wasn’t even necessarily attracted to River, but there probably wasn’t a person alive in this universe - no matter their race, gender or sexual orientation - that was immune to River Song’s charm. She hoped Helen hadn’t noticed.

“Yes chains, right, then we find a way out of here. Not really in the mood for a hanging.“ The Doctor ignored the little exchanged, clearly not phased by her wife’s flirting, and pulled her sonic screwdriver from her coat.

“Oh you know, some executions can be quite entertaining or even enjoyable affairs, there is this little planet just off the Orion belt where…“ River started but for once, the Doctor dared to interrupt her.

“I don’t think they care right now, River.“ She crouched down and sonic-ed the restraints until they fell away. “There you go.“ She smiled satisfied as Liv and Helen shook off the rest of the chains.

“Much better, thanks.“ Helen smiled, rubbing her aching joints.

“So what did you two do to get banged up in here? Were you having a bit too much fun in the broom closet as well?“ River smirked as they clambered to their feet and brushed off the dirt.

“Sorry?“ Helen looked over to her, visibly confused.

“River.“ The Doctor gave her wife’s arm a little slap.

“What?“ River looked back to the Doctor, confused, apparently wondering what she had done wrong. She then looked back to Liv and Helen, sizing them up. Liv averted her eyes while Helen just looked utterly confused. “You don’t mean to tell me, after all this time, you still haven’t…“

“I think that’s quite enough of that, River, dear.“ The Doctor grabbed River’s hand and pulled her along to the door. “Let’s see if we can’t get us all out of here before past me turns up and this gets really complicated, hm?“

“Now there is a fun idea, you had such luscious hair back then too…“ River reminisced, brushing her hand through her blonde bob while the Doctor attempted to sonic the door.

“Wood, damn it.“ The Doctor groaned in annoyance.

“You would have thought after all this time, it would do wood.“ River sighed theatrically.

“Wise arse…“ The Doctor huffed as she crouched down to examine the lock more closely.

“So what were you up to, my favourite girls?“ River turned back to the other two women who were watching their interactions with fascination. They knew River was the Doctor’s wife, she had told them as much, but she had also told them that their Doctor couldn’t know about it yet. Therefore, they had never actually seen them interact as lovers might. Looking at River with that version of the Doctor, they could picture it. The Doctor really hadn’t changed all that much.

“We were searching for an artefact…“ Helen started and looked to Liv to help her out.

“Alien technology that has been given to Queen Elizabeth as a gift and it’s been influencing her, she’s been commissioning these towers that the Doctor reckons the aliens will use to create a… oh God knows what, the Doctor will have to explain.“ Liv shrugged. They had been detained rather early on in their attempt to sneak into the palace, so they had very little to go on.

“Yes, that’s what we’ve been looking for, too.“ The Doctor exclaimed excitedly.

“We were having a lovely honeymoon, actually.“ River interjected. “The theatre, you know. Shakespeare? Live? You just had to check this out.“

“Well, I didn’t remember that it was all in hand already, did I.“ The Doctor retorted.

“So do you know where the artefact is?“ Liv asked, hoping there would be an easy solution to the whole mess.

“We would have had it by now if someone could have held their nerve.“ River pursed her lips.

“You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.“ The Doctor glared at her wife.

“Can you honestly blame me?“ River smirked giving a little shrug.

“I can’t… blame you, I mean.“ Liv found herself saying, looking the Doctor up and down.

“Thank you very much.“ River gave the med-tech a winning smile and proceeded to stick her tongue out at her wife who just rolled her eyes.

“Liv?“ Helen raised her eyebrows questioningly at her friend who was still in a world of her own when the Doctor bent over again and continued to examine the lock.

“Hm? What?“ Liv blinked, looking back to Helen who seemed rather incredulous.

“That’s the Doctor!“ She pointed out, her voice somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Yeah but… not really… I mean…“ Liv began to stutter. “Past him, good God no, but… I mean…“

“Right…“ Helen’s eyes widened in surprise and Liv silently scolded herself.

That went very badly for so many reasons, Liv realised. She didn’t mean to look like she was checking out their best friend, just because they had changed bodies. She didn’t mean to make Helen uncomfortable by flaunting interest in a pretty girl. And most importantly, she didn’t want Helen thinking she was interested in the Doctor or anyone else for that matter. Anyone else except for Helen herself, of course; but that she couldn’t say.

River, apparently, could tell that Liv was getting very uncomfortable, so she decided to move things along.

“Anyway, where were we.. trying to break out? Step aside dear.“ She gently pushed her wife aside so she could have a look at the lock herself. She pulled something that looked an awful lot like a swiss army knife from somewhere within her dress.

“You okay, Helen?“ The Doctor noticed that Helen had gone rather quiet and contemplative.

“Yeah fine, I…“ The language scholar managed a smile.

“There we are.“ River announced triumphantly and gave the door a gentle nudge, swinging it open.

“You really are good, aren’t you.“ Liv chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’m not sure good is the right word.“ Helen laughed a little as well.

“Better not be.“ River smirked and hid the knife somewhere around the edges of her cleavage. “Come along, girls.“ She stuck her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear. The corridor was indeed empty and confidently, River and the Doctor lead the way. Liv and Helen followed slightly more cautiously.

“So… the Doctor…“ Helen said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“What?“ Liv looked around to her, confused.

“You said you couldn’t blame River…“ Helen observed, mulling over what she had said.

“Helen…“ Liv felt her throat close up. Of course she had got the wrong end of the stick, but how to explain without making the situation worse?

“No, I mean, I uh…“ Helen seemingly was struggling to find the right words as well, so Liv hastily tried to justify herself:

“I didn’t mean I wanted to… I mean, she’s the Doctor. Plus, she’s with the Professor, so…“ She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. She hadn’t meant it like that at all.

“But if she wasn’t, you’d…“ Helen looked ahead to where the Doctor and River were standing to either side of a door and glancing into the next corridor; a perfect team, so in tune with each other.

“Why are we talking about this?“ Liv asked gently. She so badly wanted to reach for her arm or her shoulder, create some physical contact, but she didn’t.

“No, I mean… I just didn’t realise you had these feelings…“ Helen huffed, her tone incredibly difficult to pick apart.

“I don’t! Not for the Doctor.“ Liv grabbed Helen’s arm and stopped her. She couldn’t leave her in that belief.

“But you said…“ Helen didn’t look at her, she adverted her eyes, looking up ahead to make sure they didn’t lose track of River and the Doctor.

“She’s pretty, that’s all. That was all I was saying, nothing else. I don’t want to and never would and… this is the Doctor we’re talking about!“ Liv insisted firmly, she would have shouted for emphasis if they weren’t currently on the run, breaking out of prison. Her tone must have been a lot sharper than she realised, as Helen stared at her shocked. Quickly, Liv let go of her arm. “Besides, it’s not just about that, is it.“ She mumbled, somewhat apologetical about her outburst. “To be… interested… in someone like that, there has to be an awful lot there. Like trust. Mutual interests. Shared values. Time… spending time with that person, getting to know them, making memories together and experiences and…“ She broke off. “I just mean, a pretty face isn’t everything.“ She shrugged and started walking again, partly because she reasoned that they should keep up with the others, partly because she wanted to put an end to the conversation.

“But you’d… like a pretty pace? More than, say, someone like our Doctor…?“ Helen asked after a few moments of silence between them.

“You mean a man?“ Liv retorted without looking at her. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Uhh… yeah… I guess that’s what I mean…“ Helen mumbled, not looking to her either.

“I really don’t care, Helen.“ Liv sighed, defeated. She actually laughed a little at how absurd the conversation was from her point of view. Humanity had moved past that a long long time ago and she couldn't believe that her beautiful, clever friend hadn’t come to the same realisation yet. “When you like someone it’s not for their gender, you like the person, wouldn’t you say?“ Liv asked, looking over to her at last.

“I’d never… really thought about it, I guess…“ Helen replied, her voice soft.

“That’s just your time, the way you were raised, it’s… you can’t help it…“ Liv shook her head, she couldn’t even blame her. She was born in a different world and it would take time to unlearn what society had drummed into her for most of her life. Far flung adventures in impossible worlds just weren’t enough. It would take time, like all things. Love is begun by time… Liv thought, Shakespeare making an unbidden appearance in her troubled mind. Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it. She wondered if that spark would ever be allowed to turn to a blaze. A steady, hungry fire had been burning inside her for so long already; and perhaps Helen would douse it in cold water at last.

“Seems so silly now, looking back…“ Helen spoke to herself more than anything else but took Liv by surprise nonetheless. “After everything I’ve seen, the places we’ve been too, the futures we’ve experienced…“ She shook her head to herself. “I guess I still haven’t quite caught up with everything yet…“

“It does seem silly…“ Liv didn’t know what else to say but she felt a sense of relief at Helen’s thought process on the matter. Her friend was intelligent, inquisitive and considerate. She reflected on things and didn’t just take them for granted. She questioned and prodded, more than able to make up her own mind. Maybe she just had never had reason to reevaluate her feelings on the matter and Liv felt a sting for knowing she herself hadn’t been reason enough to do just that. But then, perhaps, she had never dared to give her a proper reason to, either.

“Shush, you two, or we will be back in the tower in a minute…“ River pressed her finger’s to Liv’s lips as they came to an abrupt halt and she nearly bumped into her.

“Guards?“ Helen whispered as Liv was too dumbfounded to utter anything with River Song’s slender finger pressed to her lips.

“I’m going to create a distraction, you guys go ahead and I’ll meet you by the exit.“ The Doctor spoke quietly. She glanced around the corner. There were four guards heading their way. “Where did I say I went? Where was I when you were detained?“ She turned back to her former companions.

“You were taken to the Queen, apparently she had been looking for you everywhere.“ Liv answered slowly, recalling the series of events that had brought them there.

“Ahh, yes… Lizzie…“ The Doctor couldn’t help a little smirk.

“Virgin Queen no longer, naughty naughty, good job I’m not the jealous type.“ River wagged her finger at her wife who gave an innocent shrug and sheepish grin. “She’s not the jealous type, either, just for the record.“ River gave Helen a wink who had no idea what to do with that. River Song’s constant flirting and innuendo was a lot to handle. She flushed a little, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Liv who felt a wave of jealousy knocking her slightly. She had no right to be jealous, did she? River just had that effect on people.

“So what would the Queen want with the Doctor?“ Liv tired to focus her mind on something else.

“I may have married her… previous me… future me, from your point of view…“ The Doctor waved it off as unimportant.

“Seriously?“ Helen exclaimed and all of them shushed her.

“Anyway, that will keep the Queen preoccupied, won’t it. Plenty of time for us to steal into the palace and get the artefact.“ The Doctor whispered with some urgency. The guards would be getting close. “Let’s get out of here, my TARDIS is parked just at either side of the Houses of Parliament.“ There were nods all round. “So about that distraction…“ She turned back, reached for her sonic and realised that River had suddenly disappeared. Then there were muffled cries, groans, sounds of something knocking into the wall, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

“Let’s get going, dear, we haven’t got all day.“ River called to them, signalling that the coast was clear.

“Why do our honeymoons always end like this?“ The Doctor huffed as they stepped out onto the corridor where River had struck down four fully grown men without so much as ruffling a hair on her impressive head of curls.

“Because you really like it when I strut my stuff, Sweetie.“ River winked at her wife who did seem a little tighter wound than a moment before. “You know I can have you on your back even quicker than that.“

“Promises, promises.“ The Doctor mumbled but the pink on her cheeks betrayed her feelings on the matter.

“Does the flirting ever stop?“ Liv felt a little hot under the collar as well. There certainly was something incredibly attractive about a woman that could handle herself like that.

“Not as long as it makes her blush like that.“ River smirked proud of the effect she had on her wife.

“Is this what you two are usually like?“ Helen asked. She seemed intrigued to know how River would have been with their Doctor, given half a chance.

“Your Doctor didn’t know who I was yet and couldn’t know, so you can’t really compare it. Doesn’t mean I love him any less.“ River answered, seemingly knowing full well where she was going with it.

“Maybe a little bit less?“ The Doctor interjected and River shook her head, laughing:

“I love all my spouses equally.“ She slipped her hand into the Doctor’s before she could start sulking. “Now come along, we haven’t got all day!“

“Wow…“ Was all Helen and Liv could manage as they stepped into the Doctor’s TARDIS.

“You redecorated.“ Helen observed and the Doctor grinned:

“You like it?“ She asked as she marched up to the console and set coordinates. “Just a quick hop…“ She pushed down a lever. “And we’re in the gardens of Richmond Palace.“

“You seem to have gotten better at flying her.“ Liv commented as they stepped outside and were exactly where she had intended for them to go.

“Don’t let appearances fool you, Ms. Chenka.“ River hummed in amusement.

“Right, where are we going?“ Helen asked before the Doctor could launch into a defence of her flying.

“I’m keeping the Queen busy so we just need to evade the guards and find the artefact, destroy it, and be on our way, easy, no?“ The Doctor put her hands on her hips, looking around for confirmation.

“If we knew where the artefact was and what it looked like.“ Liv sighed. They had gotten as far as that last time, with their Doctor.

“Way ahead of you.“ River smiled and pulled a scanner from somewhere in her dress. What else does she keep in there, Liv wondered. “Looks like it’s in the private vault… at least that’t not the private chambers.“ River mused, holding out the scanner for everyone to see. There was a red dot pulsating not too far away from them.

“Now, that would be awkward…“ The Doctor admitted.

“You guys better stay here.“ River turned to Liv and Helen

“What? You’re leaving us behind?“ Helen protested, incredulous.

“I’d leave her behind too but she gets offended.“ River nodded towards her wife.

“River!“ The Doctor huffed.

“Oh, alright then, all come along, just don’t moan if we end up back in the tower again cause you got us caught.“ River sighed, giving in.

River was quick to find a window on the ground floor that was easily opened with the help of her sonic trowel - another item she just happened to have on her person - and they climbed inside. The corridor was empty and there were no alarm systems to consider in Elizabethan times.

“This way…“ River indicated, following her scanner.

They snuck through corridors and glamorous rooms, each sitting room more luscious than the next, until finally, they came to a room full of display cases.

“There it is.“ The Doctor whispered and pointed to the far end of the room. A large jewel sat upon a red cushion, guards stood either side of it.

“Allow me…“ River was about to make a dash for it when suddenly a large tentacle shot out of the darkness and knocked all of them over, like bowling pins. Despite the racket, the guards in the room up ahead didn’t even blink, they seemed to be under the influence of the jewel.

“Bloody hell…“ Liv groaned, dazed for a moment after hitting her head.

“Are you okay, you knocked your head pretty badly…“ Helen seemed to have fared better, she was quick to lean over her and brush her hair back. Liv’s struggle to think clearly was not due to head injury but rather the way Helen pulled her up and held her close.

“I thought I was the med-tech around here…“ She managed a half-hearted joke but got lost in Helen’s bright eyes. The concern she found there made her heart beat a little faster.

“You’re not from around here…“ A deep voice hummed demanding their attention. A creature the size of a small van stepped from the shadows. Stepped was probably the wrong word for it. It slid, as it resembled a slug. A slug that had been crossed with an octopus, as long tentacles hung at its sides. It accessed the group with beady, black eyes while they clambered to their feet.

“And neither are you.“ The Doctor squared her jaw, holding her sonic out like a weapon. Protectively, she stepped in front of her friends. “You do realise this is a level five planet, don’t you?“

“This planet is not important.“ The creature declared with a guttural sound that resembled a laugh.

“Oh, I beg to differ and you have made a very big mistake by choosing it.“ The Doctor retorted firmly.

“The one that’s made a mistake is you, by coming here. This world will soon be ours.“ The alien seemed unimpressed by her declaration and slid forward. Behind it, guards appeared and advanced towards them as well. The Doctor and River exchanged glances, as did Helen and Liv, weighing their options.

“No, it won’t. Not once we’ve destroyed the jewel you’re using to exert control over these people.“ The Doctor stated but retreated a little as the guards came closer. Their eyes were blank, they looked into nothingness but moved ahead regardless.

“Their minds are weak.“ The alien laughed again.

“And you’re ugly but I wasn’t gonna mention it.“ The Doctor snapped. “Now, you have a choice. You either leave this planet and spare yourself the humiliation of us kicking you out, or we make you.“ She did her best to sound threatening.

“You and what army?“ The creature tilted its barely distinguishable head.

“I don’t need an army, I’m the Doctor.“ The Doctor declared and she halted her retreat. Time to stand tall and firm.

“You’re the Doctor?“ The alien echoed.

“Heard of me then? Good! That should give you reason to run.“ The Doctor grinned.

“Doctor who?“ The alien asked and the Doctor’s face fell with annoyance.

“Well, that’s a bit disappointing, never mind, but that means you probably won’t know my lovely wife either. Professor River Song, top-notch archeologist, great hair and one hell of a marksman… woman… Anyway, I digress, point is, she’s a great shot, and while you've been listening to me singing her praises, she’d taken aim at your jewel and any second now, she’ll…“

A shot rang out and the sound of splintering glass was ear piercingly sharp.

“NO!“ The alien wailed as the guards collapsed where they were marching. Gone was their puppet master’s influence and it left them spent and unconscious.

“Never give her the opportunity to talk.“ River pointed her gun at the alien. Another thing she just happened to have pulled out of her dress. Or was it from under it? Liv found herself swallowing hard at the thought of River having strapped a gun holster to her thigh… Either way, she had shot the jewel at a great distance, through two windows and an open door. And it had only taken her one attempt.

“You will pay for this!“ The creature screeched and lashed out with its tentacles that suddenly grew sharp thorns.

“Oh no, you don’t!“ The Doctor sonic-ed a chandelier above its head that came crashing down while River delivered three quick shorts, two at tentacles, the third right in the head. It was, however, Liv that reacted the quickest.

“Helen!“ She pulled her friend around, out of the way of the one tentacle that made it past River. She knocked her to the ground just in time and River quickly shoot the tentacle for good measure, even after the creature lay motionless.

“Let’s get out of here before actual guards arrive, come on!“ The Doctor didn’t give them time to recover, she pulled her friends up and pushed them alone the corridor as voices approached.

“You saved me.“ Helen seemed thoroughly out of breath when they finally reached the safety of the shore of the Themes. She looked to Liv would was just as exhausted and leaned against the balustrade to catch her breath.

“Well, couldn’t just let it get you, could I, not after all that time the Doctor and I have spent on getting you back…“ Liv huffed, trying to downplay how terrifying the thought of losing Helen really was. She had been in that situation, not knowing whether she was dead or alive, if she would ever see her again, and she couldn’t risk losing her again.

“Right… he probably wouldn’t have been best pleased if he’d have to find an antidote to some weird disease or God knows what that thing would have done…“ Helen mumbled.

“Exactly…“ Liv brushed her hair back awkwardly.

“You know, you two are really painful to watch!“ River interrupted, her voice full of frustration.

“What?“ The two of them looked up simultaneously to find River scowling at them, placing her hands on her hips, seemingly about to give a lecture.

“Right, I’m not telling you what to do but come on!“ The professor exclaimed exasperated. “Liv! Just take the plunge, okay?“

Liv blushed deeply. Was she that easy to read? To River Song, apparently so.

“I think I’ve had enough of London for the time being.“ The Doctor interrupted, deliberately intervening to give her friends an out should they need it. They didn’t look ready to have that conversation. “We can catch Shakespeare another time. Tropical beach next?“ She looked to River who rolled her eyes at her interruption.

“Wait, what about the Doctor, our Doctor?“ Helen suddenly realised.

“He’ll get himself out of that situation.“ The Doctor waved off her concern. “Might just take a little while. Maybe don’t wait up…“ She winked.

“So you do remember it! You said you didn’t!“ River exclaimed somewhere between affronted and amused.

“Only vaguely, time lines and all…“ The Doctor tried to play it off but her wife wasn’t having it:

“You just didn’t want to tell me what the sex was like!“ River retorted.

“I thought you weren’t jealous!“ The Doctor laughed.

“I’m not jealous, I’m curious! The virgin queen, I mean, there’s a story there, isn’t there!“ River insisted with a mischievous grin. “Besides… I’m taking you home tonight and that’s what counts.“ She grabbed hold of her chin and placed a firm kiss on her slightly parted lips. The Doctor chuckled and kissed her back. Nothing quite like a kiss from her wife at the end of an adventure, so it seemed. Liv couldn’t deny she quite enjoyed seeing them kiss, though there was a twinge of jealously as well. It wasn’t directed at either one of them but at the station in itself. She looked to Helen, more longingly than she probably should have, but the language scholar didn’t noticed as she just cleared her throat:

“Are you just going to leave us now?“ She asked as River and the Doctor pulled apart and looked back to them, somewhat sheepishly, almost as if they had already forgotten they were there.

“We’ll see you guys around, places to go, people to see, marriages to consummate.“ River smirked with a little wave of her free hand, the other pulling her wife close to her side. She regarded each of them with an affectionate smile. “Hope to see you again soon.“

“Until next time, my dear friends. I miss going on adventures with you…“ The Doctor smiled as well, fondly, in a reminiscent sort of way. “Be good to yourselves.“

“And you, Doctor.“ Liv mirrored her warm expression. “Till next time, Professor.“

“Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon.“ Helen smiled. “Have fun.“

“You too!“ River grinned and pulled something from her corset. Because why wouldn’t she. “Here, in case the Doctor is a while yet.“ She threw something towards them and Liv caught it rather clumsily.

“What’s that?“ Helen asked and Liv opened her hand to reveal a key.

“Key’s to the honeymoon suite we were staying in. That lovely pub right across from the Globe, maybe you can go and catch a show and crash there. Won’t be needing it now.“ River grinned and turned to leave.

“Liv?“ The Doctor demanded her friend’s attention one last time, making River wait a moment longer.

“Yes?“ The med-tech looked up from the key.

“I think you’ve both waited long enough. Perspectives do change.“ The Doctor smiled encouragingly, waving a final goodbye. Then she took her wife’s hand and they made their way along the shore of the river, taking the long way around back to the TARDIS.

“What did she mean by that?“ Helen asked curiously once they were out of earshot. She turned towards her and seemed to assume that she knew exactly what the Doctor meant.

“What she means is… I need to stop being such a coward.“ Liv mumbled, taking a deep breath. How to even start? The pressure was unbearable as she considered what she stood to lose if she was wrong, but the thought of what she could gain was ever so tempting. Particularly when Helen reached out, took her hands into hers, gave them a firm, reassuring squeeze.

“You’re one of the bravest people I know!“ She insisted, full of determination and Liv could tell that she meant it.

“Not always, not when it comes to this…“ Liv sighed, averting her eyes.

“To what?“ Helen retorted, puzzled. She wasn’t making any sense to her and Liv couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t get coherent words out. “Liv, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?“ Helen raised her hand and pushed it under Liv’s chin, forcing her to meet her eyes.

Liv decided that she couldn't delay any longer. She had to do it. Maybe it was obvious to everyone but Helen who just didn’t expect it, didn’t know how to read the signs or what to do with them. Maybe it was a stupid idea but the Doctor and River seemed to think it wasn’t. Maybe they had foreknowledge they did not. They were from the future after all. Liv decided to trust them, to take the leap of faith and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her best friend’s lips.

It was like a still moment. One of those special spots in space and time that the Doctor might speak of, where everything was fixed, everything was just the way it was supposed to be and always would be. A still point in time. Liv pulled back slowly and searched Helen’s eyes, full of surprise and confusion.

“I like you, Helen. More than I think you realise or know what to do with.“ Liv whispered, unsure how to put an attraction, an affection, an adoration and admiration into words that wouldn’t scare her away and bare the heavy burden a declaration of love.

“Oh…“ Helen’s voice was soft.

“It’s uh…“ Liv started to panic when she didn’t say anything beyond that. No response. Not one way or another, just Oh. “I’m sorry.“ Heat rushed to her cheeks and she quickly let go of Helen’s hands. She took a fearful step back. She realised she had messed up. “That was stupid… forget I even, I mean… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if you’re just not… that’s fine, you’re my friend, I don’t want to jeopardise that and…“ She started rambling excuses. She wished she could go back to before, her friendship with Helen meant everything to her. If that was all it was ever going to be, she could content herself with that, she could make her peace with it, but she couldn’t lose her.

“Liv…“ Helen held up her hands trying to calm her. “Liv, stop!“ She took a step towards her and grabbed her wildly gesticulating hands again. “Please listen…“ Liv stopped, Helen’s hands in hers pulling her back to the present, demanding her full attention. She remained quiet for a moment and just looked at Helen who ran her thumbs over the back of her hands, holding them tightly as if she was worried she would run off.

“Yes?“ Liv asked slowly, her heart hammering in her chest.

“You’re quite wonderful, you know?“ Helen smiled softly.

“I uh…“ Liv didn’t know how to respond, it was like her brain had stroked out, which, being a med-tech and all, she knew it hadn’t but that was what it felt like. Helen’s words just didn’t sink in, not until she let go of one hand to be able to place it on her cheek instead.

“You can kiss me again, if, you know… that’s something you want to do…“ She said softly, blushing a little and Liv could tell she meant it. Maybe it would take some getting used to, those feelings, and allowing herself to feel them but Liv was determined to help her along. Help her to accept them for the precious thing that they were and allow herself the freedom to find a kind of happiness that she previously hadn’t considered for herself.

“Oh I really want to…“ Liv’s inhibitions fell away in one liberating blast. She took Helen’s face in her hands and kissed her. Properly. With all the love and longing she had carried in her heart for so long and Helen didn’t pull away, she wasn’t scared or overwhelmed, she just leaned into it, kissed her back and held her close.

“You’re right, you know…“ Helen whispered as she rested her forehead against Liv’s.

“About what?“ Liv asked softly, running her fingers through Helen’s soft blonde hair like she had longed to ever since meeting her.

“With what you said in the Tower about time… and love…“ Helen closed her eyes. “Love is begun by time…“

“Shakespeare.“ Liv chuckled at the irony of them both thinking of the same quote. For all they knew, Hamlet might be having it’s world premiere at the Globe right now.

“We’ve been through so much together. Experienced so much. Spend so much time together. Precious time. Time doesn't just bring love… it’s also inhabited by it…“ Helen broke off, embarrassed and Liv wouldn’t push her for more. She had already gotten so much more than she had dared hope for. They had so much more time yet to come.

“You do have a way with words, Helen Sinclair…“ Liv whispered, not trusting her voice not to break were she to speak up.

“Well, that’s sort of my job…“ Helen chuckled and Liv laughed, shaking her head to herself. She didn’t have a way with words herself, so she just leaned in and kissed her again, confident she could get her point across another way.

“Liv? Helen? What are you…“ A voice called from down the road, footsteps hurrying closer. “Oh… Uh…“ The Doctor halted, confused for a moment.

“Doctor! We thought you were still… preoccupied…“ Liv let go of Helen who blushed like a teenager caught by their parents while making out with their crush.

“Yes, the artefact, I…“ The Doctor started but Liv interrupted him:

“We’ve dealt with it.“

“You have?“ His face fell, almost disappointed and the two of them nodded. “Without me?“ There was a long pause as they nodded again. “Well, that’s just marvellous, isn’t it. How did you do it?“ He exclaimed after brief consideration. Helen and Liv exchanged amused glances, knowing full well he usually preferred to be the one to safe the day but they were quite capable in their own right.

“That’s a bit of a complicated story.“ Liv chuckled, wondering how to best explain without mentioning his future wife or the fact he would eventually turn into a very pretty blonde.

“I like a good story, let’s get back to the TARDIS then, if I can work out where I parked it…“ He looked around slightly disoriented. “I’ll put the kettle on and you can tell me all about it.“

“Maybe another time…“ Liv said, closing her hand around Helen’s as they started walking in search of the TARDIS.

“What?“ The Doctor looked over his shoulder, confused, watching the two of them following after him. He frowned and they could virtually see the clocks ticking in his brain. He was trying to work out what was different and why they would possibly be turning down a marvellous cup of tea.

“The recounting of the story… maybe that can wait a little while.“ Liv explained.

“Why?“ He seemed genuinely put out and they almost felt sorry for him.

“It’s just, Liv and I, we have some other stuff we want to talk about…“ Helen came to her aid, giving her hand a squeeze and Liv felt her heart soar. She had expected Helen to be more reluctant to hold her hand, particular in a public place in the distant past where it certainly was even less permissible than she had experienced. She could only hope that it didn’t feel as strange as she might have feared but the it felt extremely right.

“Right…“ The Doctor huffed, trying his best not to let his disappointment show. “Guess it’s just tea for one then… and you’re sure you don’t want me to tell you how I escaped the chambers of Queen Elizabeth?“ He looked back to find them shaking their heads.

“Not right now, no.“ Liv gave him an apologetic smile.

“Do you think he knows what’s going on?“ Helen whispered to Liv who just shrugged:

“Seems clueless as ever… Maybe he needs a few regenerations to think it over. Another five or so…“ Helen laughed a little and the Doctor started rambling again, up ahead of them, as the TARDIS come into view:

“Mind you, I have got this new novel, that’s gonna keep me busy while you do whatever it is you need to do. Came highly recommended. Detective novel, private eye in old town New York, Melody Malone, that sounds like a woman after my own heart.“

“Certainly sounds like it.“ Helen grinned and Liv laughed:

“Sounds like she would have a bag of tricks up her sleeve… or dress!“

33 notes · View notes

bagadew · 3 years

Text

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Case of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 3b)

Last Time: After being discovered in Miss Pavlova’s cabin, things didn’t go as badly for us as we thought they would. In fact we got to dance around with Herlock Sholmes the Himbo Detective and discovered that Susato (and presumably someone at Capcom) really knows a lot about snakes, Nikolina has a pet kitten called Darka, and Kazuma apparently died by tripping over said kitten in a tragic accident. However, while it would probably be the best explanation for everyone involved, I’m not entirely sure it’s true as it still doesn’t explain the fact the crime scene was clearly tampered with.

Well it seems that, like me, Susato’s not entirely convinced Nikolina’s telling us the truth.

In fact, it looks like she’s sure of it.

You know, I didn’t expect to feel conflicted about finding Kazuma’s killer, but I kind of do...

Like, I came into this fully expecting to feel hatred and anger towards whoever did this. I was expecting to confront some hateful villain on a par with Miss Brett or Manfred Von Karma and to take satisfaction and vengeance in taking them down... but this isn’t that. There’s no conspiracy, no big untouchable threat, there’s just an abused and scared little girl who probably killed Kazuma because she thought he was going to kill her.

I don’t expect to feel good about taking Nikolina down. I think it’ll feel like when we had to go for Adrian Andrews... only this time she’s actually guilty.

I don’t have anything to add to Susato’s speech, other than it feels important to put it up, and it seems like a good show of who Susato is as a person.

You know, I’ve had a little difficulty pinning Susato down until now, but I think I’ve finally got her. Susato Mikotoba is a woman who believes in truth and justice, and will go to great lengths to reveal it... even if it hurts far more than the lie ever did.

Herlock’s been quiet for a while now, and I don’t think he’s still reeling from the snake business. It’s difficult to read his expression with his hat like that, so I can’t tell if he’s running through the crime scene in his mind, or if Susato’s words have struck a cord with him.

Wait WHAT?

Ah, ok. Herlock basically been using this whole thing as a distraction, and was planning to give everything over to Scotland Yard once we arrived home so they could deal with any ‘outstanding issues’.

(Also he’s handcuffed us again)

It hadn’t quite clicked before, but no one’s actually considered what Ryunosuke must be feeling. His best friend has just been murdered, and all almost everyone has done, has been to accuse him of killing him. Even among Hosonaga, and later Susato, Ryunosuke hasn’t got to really talk about his feelings, and I’m not sure if anyone’s actually given him the opportunity to do so.

With the next stop looming ever closer, I know we don’t exactly have the time to talk right now, but I hope Ryunosuke gets the chance once this is all done.

Ok, let’s do this.

Let’s run through what we know doesn’t fit so far:

1) The writing in Russian: not only is it in the wrong language but Kazuma died instantly, meaning that there’s next to no way he wrote this himself, and absolutely no way he did it if he died tripping over a kitten.

2) The ships log has been left blank from after 2am, meaning that who ever was probably in on it.

3) Half of Darka’s bell somehow found it’s way in Nikolina’s bin, meaning someone must have taken it from the crime scene.

4) If someone went into the cabin (which they must have done) they have to have pressed the emergence alarm after they left.

Let’s start with the biggest contradiction shall we? The photographic print.

Oh Nikolina, that’s not the issue here.

Ryunosuke’s got it.

Well done Ryunosuke.

I’m trying to work out what this could be. The bell half perhaps? But that’s something that was taken away surely.

Ok, so just something that proves it wasn’t an accident. Well I’m not too sure if it’s what I’m supposed to be looking for here, but I’ll present the mark on the floor and see what happens.

Oh thank god!

Well, not exactly Hosonaga, while it’s true that the tripped kitten explanation does explain how the bell was broken, it doesn’t explain why half of it made its way out of Kazuma’s room and into Nikolina’s bin.

Exactly Ryunosuke!

So, now that we’ve successfully proved someone was at the crime scene, let’s start working out who could have done it.

(TBH I still think that, while Nikolina killed Kazuma, Stroganoff was the person who tampered with the crime scene. The writing just feels a bit too calculated to be Nikolina, especially if she killed Kazuma out of fear.)

Ah, I was wondering when you’d have enough Stroganoff.

He’s basically saying that we already know I (Ryunosuke) was in the room, and that if what I’m saying is true then it has to be me as the door was bolted from the inside.

However, as I (both Ryunosuke and me) have zero knowledge of Russian, it’s impossible for me to have written the message. What we do have however, is knowledge as to how the door was bolted from the outside, which we must be getting close to revealing.

That’s... a really good question actually. Why didn’t they just take the whole thing?

Ah, I see. I was looking at this from the eyes of someone from the modern era of electric lights, rather than with the eyes of someone who lives with jolly old Victorian lighting. The floor wasn’t visible enough to make out half of a cats bell.

Shit... she’s their kid...

You know, while we still don’t know exactly how Nikolina came onboard this ship, I’d kind of assumed that the sailors (or perhaps someone affiliated with them) had found her trying to stow away or hiding down by the docks, and taken pity on her and decided to help her out. Because, I thought, there was no way Nikolina would reach out to strangers for help, given how scared she is. But the answer is that they weren’t strangers. They were family.

That’s why they’ve all been ready to risk everything without hesitation, even if it means covering up a murder. She’s their kid, and I’m about to make them watch it all be for nothing.

Yeah, Ryunosuke... it is...

(I love the way these spirits combine together. Nikolina looks even smaller and younger next to Stroganoff, and her hiding behind him while his fighting stance partly shields her does a good job of showing how things are for them right now. It makes me think of images of cornered animals protecting their young.)

Because he’s lying, but then I think you’ve already figured that out.

My time has come.

Susato, it’s ok. I’ve got this, you don’t need to make us look bad by suggesting things you know aren’t true.

DON’T PASS THE BUCK TO ME!!!

(Again, me an Rynosuke operate on the same wavelength now)

OH MY GOD, THE HIMBO DETECTIVE MADE A PROPER DEDICATION ALL ON HIS OWN!!!

HELL YEAH I DO!!!

Look at him go! He’s even using Susato’s fancy words to explain it!

And there goes the bolt on the door!

Now we’re explaining that the emergency stop button can be pressed at various different points around the ship, including, crucially, just outside these two cabins.

Oh Susato, you know as well as I do that this whole things had Herlock’s fingerprints all over it.

(Important information, along with not being trusted with a pet, do not trust Herlock Sholmes with any machinery or control panels)

To be honest this is the appropriate reaction. We’re at sea Herlock! Don’t mess with the thing that stands between us and drowning!

Herlock ‘But Did You Die’ Sholmes: Now lets not lose sight of the fact I got us evidence.

And the worst part is that he’s right.

Not if you drugged everyone!

I think it’s finally time to bring up the blank ships log.

Ok team, Herlock’s in charge of our excuses from now on!

We’re going through the fact that the log was blank, which with Stroganoff’s meticulous ritual of writing: Nothing to Report, every half hour on the dot, means that there definitely was something to report.

We sure are suggesting that Susato!

Not if you were drugged Hosonaga!

HE MADE ANOTHER PROPER DEDUCTION!!! I’M SO PROUD!!!

Ok, have the drugs finally worn off on Herlock’s brain, because he’s saying really smart things now. Or is it just that he’s taking things seriously rather than using this whole thing as a distraction?

Susato’s got it too!

So, because it’s such a large scale job, it couldn’t have been pulled off by any one person, meaning that the entire crew must have been in on it.

(Poor drugged Hosonaga, they really identified you weren’t one of them the second you set foot on this ship didn’t they?)

Now see, the problem with this strategy, is that while Bif might not be happy about the rest of his crew getting into trouble, I feel like this is a Murder on the Orient Express scenario, in the sense that everyone involved fully acknowledge the risks and came into this prepared to go down if necessary.

Yeah, he’s not happy, but he’s not cracking.

In fact, I’m not sure anything could cause him to crack. He is the one person’s standing between Nikolina and (potentially) death. I can’t see any way he’s going to back down.

I understand now, Herlock wasn’t aiming for him. Because they’re Nikolina’s family too.

It seems to be just like we suspected. Nikolina asked them to help her escape, and so, as one, the crew agreed to help her. They put sleeping drugs in the chicken so no one would notice what was happening, and got one of their comrades on the shore of Shanghai to take her to the ship at midnight.

Here’s the problem we have now though. Now she’s covering for them. Even if I’m wrong about Stroganoff or another member of the crew writing the message, the ships log means that they either knew or found out, and I can’t imagine they would have sat by and done nothing.

Wait a second though. We met Nikolina in her cabin, which means she must have got back inside some way or another. She couldn’t have done that if she was the one who pressed the alarm. I think this could be a way to establish someone must have helped her.

They’re still fighting, and to be honest I didn’t expect anything else. They’re both protecting each other now and it’s going to take nothing but evidence to make them budge.

I’m going to be perfectly honest Herlock, you’ve kind of lost me.

In fact I think you’ve lost most of the room...

ITS TIME FOR DANCE OF DEDUCTION 3: I WAS HOPPING I’D HAVE UNTIL THE NEXT CASE TO THINK UP A NAME!

Ryunosuke, don’t play dumb. We must dance!

(Or observe, that’s good too)

Right, well we’ve worked out Stroganoff was the one who did the fabrication, so we should probably focus on him first.

Got you.

To be honest I’m at a loss as to how he got some of the ink round there. Perhaps he knocked the ink over when he was sorting the crime scene out.

Or perhaps it was on his finger and he accidentally rubbed it over when he held his hands like this?

... I thought so...

So, just after one in the morning, Bif was patrolling the corridor when a scared an pail Nikolina came up to him desperate for help. He followed her to Kazuma’s cabin and found him on the floor. Apparently the event before went on like Nikolina said, only instead of luring Darka through the vent, she went next door because she was worried about the sounds she’d heard through the vent.

... he’s still shielding her isn’t he?

I think Susato knows it too.

The problem is, that Nikolina’s following Bif’s lead. Perhaps if we had the chance to talk to her alone we’d know we were getting the truth, but not with Bif there. And to be honest I’m not sure I can really blame either of them for that.

I’m not 100% sure to be honest. And I don’t think I will be until this case is closed.

I’ll take that as not being done then.

I have no idea...

(His fist was closed, could that be the issue?)

(Thank you god of video games!)

OPEN WITH THAT NEXT TIME HERLOCK!

Yeah, we’re not going to be able to guess!

Nikolina’s earring!

Which he couldn’t have had if he was dead when she came in!

(Stroganoff’s face seems to suggest that we’ve reached the final curtain.)

I don’t think either of them can explain away this.

(Again, lead with the earring next time Herlock)

Things are in the right order now.

He let her in. He thought she was Hosonaga so he let her in.

It’s all going fine right now, but we know how this ends.

Of course he did, just by looking at Nikolina you can see she’s been through a lot, and besides, Kazuma has a secret all of his own.

Here we go. Whatever it might be, the thing that triggered Nikolina’s survival instinct is coming.

Ah shit...

You know, since the moment Darka disappeared through that vent, I’m not sure things were ever going to end differently. Kazuma was always going to open the door, he was always going to help the frightened girl he found there, and being the incredibly quick man that he was, he was always going to recognize her.

And Kazuma was always going to want to look into the situation, and that was always going to tip Nikolina into a panic. And then sooner or later she was going to lash out in what seemed to her to be necessary self defence.

Here it is.

Oh!?

So this wasn’t the trigger. But then what was?

Oh no. He was going to get Ryunosuke from the wardrobe. The wardrobe Nikolina couldn’t possibly grasp the significance of, but that was right next to the bell cord.

(Also didn’t I say the captain was somehow to blame?)

(What do you guys say we chalk it up to him and put this whole business behind us?)

(And yes I do know that I’m stalling again)

... in a panic you struck out... and he stumbled... and hit his head on the way down...

I see, so Darka put him off balance first. And so when you pushed him he he hit his head on the bedpost.

Fear, adrenaline, and a lack of judgment due to stress and trauma. Perhaps if this had happened on any day other than the one where you’d just fled things would have been different, but maybe not. It’s hard to tell.

And we know the rest...

Stroganoff cleared away as much of Nikolina’s presence as he could find, and in doing so found Ryunosuke asleep in the wardrobe. It must have seemed like fate was giving him a stranger who could take the fall instead of his kid.

So Nikolina was the one who ‘cleared away’ the bell. That explain why some of it was left behind, and why it ended up in her bin. Stroganoff would probably have thrown it overboard.

What’s that?

I see, that’s a good question.

What he said about the inspector...

Oh dear.

Hosonaga, you were literally drugged at the time, and I’m still pretty sure you were set up to fail (which does raise the question of what would have happened to Kazuma if Nikolina hadn’t killed him)

Susato?

I see, she’s realized that he was going for Ryunosuke, thus slotting the final piece of this whole tragedy neatly into place.

(These two cases are really going all out in very different ways. The next one better let me relax and have fun Maskqu de Masque style. I’m not sure I can take much more of this.)

Here it comes, the unnecessariness of the whole murder.

Yeah...

:((

Ryunosuke’s best friend has been murdered because of the misunderstandings of a child, and he’s been raked over the coals because of that. While it might not be the kindest thing to say for Nikolina, it’s an important thing to say for Ryunosuke, and I feel he’s justified in saying it.

In fact it would probably be a bad sign if he didn’t say this. He’s as much of a victim in this whole affair as anyone. I’m glad he’s at least getting an apology from Nikolina, even though it’s unfortunately gone past the point where that would be useful.

It’s finally over, and just as I predicted it doesn’t feel good.

HOSONAGA SATURO YOU HEAL LIKE A CHAMP!

‘It’s just a scratch’, you said.

‘Go to a hospital’, we cried.

‘No need, just give me a few hours to click my face back into position and pass me back my glasses lenses and I’ll be fine’

Hosonaga, you are unkillable and this is exactly why you’re superiors had to resort to shipping you out.

Ok, enough fun declaring Hosonaga to be our new god. Let’s go back to the serious and depressing business of Nikolina.

So, it seems like Nikolina will be handed over to Scotland Yard, and Herlock will sort things out with the immigrations office so she doesn’t have to go back to Russia.

Also the way they’re talking about her future means that she’s not going to be executed (thank god), which makes sense given that she committed manslaughter rather than murder. Whether or not she goes to prison will probably depend on the judge as, while she has the fact that she’s a white female child, she is also not English and speaks with a strong accent, and therefore, is going to be subjected to a lot of Xenophobia.

Hm?

Ah.

Again, I’m glad Ryunosuke’s getting these apologies.

Wait, are you sure Stroganoff? Like yeah, you’re not going to get done for murder, and the whole defending a kid thing will play of pretty well in court (plus the man you accused wasn’t English and has a less white skin tone than you). But you are also a Russian man with a strong accent and you won’t be able to fall back on being a child or let the evils of sexism and xenophobia fight each other.

Well at least we’re free again, even if we’re in a worst place than when we started.

You know he will Ryunosuke. And given how well he was defending her till now, I think he might just succeed.

But we have to get to England to make Kazuma’s dream come true!

Herlock, can you come to us again in our hour of need? I know we have a lot of them but...

(I swear to god this game is shooting for my jugular)

We’re holding Kazuma’s sword, aka, his spirit. Please don’t make me let it go game.

Is it too much to ask for them to hug? I think they both need it.

Hold us Hosonaga.

(Though not me (Eleanor). Instinct tells me we must remain two meters apart so our weird lungs don’t accidentally take each other out.)

(I cannot be the person who killed Hosonaga)

(And yes I am trying to lighten the mood with my talk of genetic lung conditions because I’m aware it’s only going to get sadder)

(Told you)

There was nothing you could have done Hosonaga, and it’s become my own private mission now to find a way to prove that to you.

:(((

Game are we going to have to sail to England on Hosonaga’s guilt?

I’m aware that you’ve got a whole fun game lined up over there, but is this really the only way?

Can’t we just go to Japanfornia instead, track down Amy Fey (if she’s even been born yet) and get Kazuma back on our team?

No... ok...

Exactly!

WHAT! WHY AM I BACK IN HANDCUFFS!??

HERLOCK SHOLMES COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW, THIS IS ONLY A LITTLE BIT FUNNY!

He’s amusing himself at least...

(You know what, I’ve decided right now that this is a family friendly blog, so no, I’m not going to say what I’m thinking. You can’t make me.)

Also read the room Herlock, the three of us were having a moment!

Nice save.

Ryunosuke’s trying to throw himself under the buss and send Susato and Herlock and Hosonaga off to go live out the rest of the game without him.

Sorry Ryunosuke, but you’re the protagonist. We can’t leave without you.

That’s it! Ryunosuke, you’re naturally good at lawyering! It’s time for you to take up Kazuma’s mantle!

Am I chopped liver to you Susato?

Are we doing a studying montage on the ship over?

Yes Ryunosuke!

Training montage Hosonaga!

You can help! Teach me how to be the crime scene thief and not give a damn!

(Actually on second thoughts, maybe you should sit this one out and offer moral support instead)

Said Hosonaga, knowing that I wasn’t.

(*Eye of the tiger starts to play*)

I CAN LEARN ENOUGH TO WING IT HOSONAGA!

HELL YEAH!!!

Oh good, I’d forgotten about Kazuma’s morally ambiguities loose end.

(Probably because every character I fancy has one of them and it’s no longer anything to write home about.)

Let’s do this Susato, me an you all the way!

Hosonaga? You cool too?

Wait, now is not the time to be sensible Hosonaga! Remember when we got Miss Brett? That was against protocol and it meant we got to see her take off via her big hat! (Although we didn’t get justice and it ended with you being shipped out, but let’s not dwell on that.)

Hosonaga normally (while shovelling three tables worth of crockery into his bag): Nothing will get in my way! I’ll lay my life on the line if I have to! I will strait up ignore the rules if I think they are unjust!

Hosonaga when Herlock is present: I have never broken a rule in my life, nor would I ever do so. I am the most sensible and down to earth man you will ever meet, please ignore the way I am dressed right now.

What happened Hosonaga, did you watch me and Herlock doing our dance of deduction and immediately decided someone had to be the adult and it might as well be you?

Or... did watching Herlock roll around on the floor and cling like a limpet to the walls make you wonder that this is how you come across?

Because to be honest you were loudly declaring yourself the Crime Scene Thief just last trial... so I don’t think you’ll ever be able to create too much contrast in our eyes.

Come on Crime Scene Thief!

Herlock’s aiming right for Hosonaga’s canonically shit schooling with those words.

Remember who you are Hosnaga! You’re the badass who lay his life on the line for us!

(I like how much Herlock’s talking Ryunoskue up, I guess this makes up for the fact he handcuffed us again for the asthenic)

Hooray!!! Hosonaga’s taking us to Disneyland England!

“Hello, this is Saturo Hosanaga. Just calling to say that I’ve done it again... yes I understand that my breaking the rules makes you sad, but I simply will not stop... well you see, they’re unfair and heavily biased in your favour. Also we both know if you could have stopped me you would have done so long ago. Goodbye.”

Capcom! Stop trying to make me get to England off of Hosonaga’s guilt!

Allow me to come with you, or at the very least please borrow the KBS (Kazuma’s big sword) for protection.

Goodbye Hosonaga... until we meet again...

But (and I need to make this very clear Capcom gods) not my mentor!

The KBS!

We will guard this with our lives!

(Karuma huh? That name sounds faintly familiar.)

(Ok Google, now play Eye Of The Tiger)

WE ARN’T DOING THIS AGAIN CAPCOM! PUT THOSE DEATH FLAGS DOWN!

Oh thank god, she just wants to be even!

Ryunosuke, are you sure you’re even able to do that?

You heard the lady Ryunosuke. (And no this totally isn’t because I want to see if you’re even able to do it.)

Booo

Herlock, I love you, but...

KICK HIS ASS SUSATO!!!

WHY ME!!!

Poor sweet Ryunosuke...

Ah, I see it’s time to be sad again.

Oh Kazuma, what were you up to?

Anyways, that’s it for The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band. Join me next time for The Adventure of the Runaway Room!

#tgaa #tgaa spoilers #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the unbreakable speckled band #ryunosuke naruhodo #susato mikotoba #herlock sholmes #satoru hosonaga #and for what is probably the last time:#nikolina pavlova #bif strogenov #and...#kazuma asougi

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Friday 20 February 1835

7 20

12 5

No kiss had slept in cousin linen with paper as usual and white worsted stocking besides which kept all very comfortable A- never found out that I had cousin ready in an hour - snowing and F40° at 8 20 and breakfast and talking till 10 - then a little while with Charles H- in the workshop and with my father and ½ hour with my aunt and then had Aquilla Green ½ hour till 12 - he wants Mytholm farm - never thought of my letting it without letting him know - said that I really understood that he did not want the farm unless he could have the mill, and that therefore as I had given up all thought of building a mill (which I called to tell his mother some days ago but she had people with her that I went away again without saying anything) I considered the farm quite at liberty for anybody - mentioned how far matters had gone with Mallinson and that if I heard no more from AG- between this and 9 am on Monday morning I should agree with M- - said I should reserve the buildings and holm - and would not let them to Dewhirst at any price, so long as he remained unmarried - was determined to keep up the respectability of my tenantry - had asked Mallinson the same rent I had set Pearson if he P- had kept the farm – i.e. £65 per annum and deducting for the buildings and holm there would be 27DW or thereabouts for which I should ask according to SW’s valuation or worth some small addition as his valuation of the whole farm and buildings was £1 odd less than [ever] -

at 1 1/2 had the reverend Mr Ackroyde who called to ask if I would purchase any pews in his church - said I had not a foot of property anywhere near his church that churches should be for the benefit of those in their immediate neighbourhood - I had no farm without a pew belonging to it - I had already pews enough and thought it a point of conscience not to interfere with those persons who had no pews and no pew anywhere - sure Miss Walker would decline purchasing pews in his church for the same reason - very civil but I never sat down and paid as little attention as civility required to all the irrelevant observations brought forward by Mr A- glad to make my escape - then at my journal of today and had just finished it at 4 5 pm having began it at 12

Suppose however that I leave a barrier of coal 50 yards broad against the old works on the NW. side and suppose the length of this barrier to be 70 chains of 22 yards then 70 x 22 = 1540x50 = 77000 yards 77000/4840 = 15 acres + 440 yards ÷ 4 supposing me to get 4 acre per annum still I shall have coal enough in Southowram to work for 24 years

SH:7/ML/E/17/0168

afterwards from 4 5 to 6, further calculations about the coal and calculating and considering what to ask for Mytholm farm - I think of reserving the House and gardens and barn and yard 0DW.2qrs.0p. valued at

dinner at 6 ¼ - coffee - with my father from 8 to 8 50 - settled George’s last weeks account etc till 9 ¾ - 20 minutes with my aunt till 10 10 - Rainy morning but fair by between 8 and 9 and afterwards finish day - F42° now at 10 ¼ pm

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shyvioletcat · 4 years

Note

ITT Drabble?

HERE IT IS! Last one on my 1200 follower Fluffy Prompt-a-thon. (Masterlist for that here)

This takes place just before Chapter 27 of It Takes Two. Masterlist for that if you needed a refresher.

~~~~~

Rowan stepped out onto the street after finishing his shift at the gym. Even though it was close to 7 o’clock the street was still busy. It was late night shopping and people were stepping in and out of shops along the street. Which was good, there were a few things Rowan needed to buy for Aelin’s baby shower and this was his last chance to get them before it on Saturday. He already had something for Aelin in the back seat of his truck, but he wanted to get a few things for the baby.

Yesterday on his way to work he had stopped at the shopping centre he had gone to with Aelin and went to one store in particular she had taken him to. He bought her the blue floral wrap dress she had tried on to demonstrate to him exactly what a wrap dress was. She had looked lovely in it and he could tell that she wanted to buy it, but hadn’t because of the price. So, wanting to get something for her and only her, Rowan had bought it. He desperately hoped it was the right size, because he had got it on sale with a no return or exchange policy on sale items the shop assistant had told him. He’d cross that bridge if it came to it but he had a feeling Aelin would be at least a little impressed that he had managed to get it at such a good price.

With Aelin’s gift done Rowan now needed something for the baby. A bit clueless, he had done a little bit of research on useful baby gifts. It didn’t take long for him to get overwhelmed, but he had a few ideas. He had fully intended to give what he bought to the twins so they would take to the shower. But Aelin had asked him to come, insisted that he come now that they had come to their new understanding. She had said she wanted him there. Something about that had made his heart beat a little faster. They were moving forward and Rowan was excited to see where it led.

He didn’t go to his car, instead he started walking up the street. There was a baby store a little way up that he had driven past and had been looking in the window as he went by. Rowan had seen something the other day, well he thought he had seen something at least. It only took him a few minutes to get there and he looked in the window. He had been right.

There in the window was a mobile, a single halo of flowers with animals and a few more flowers hanging from it on decorative strings. But they weren’t just any kind of flowers. The door opened and Rowan moved to hold it open for a pregnant woman and who he assumed was her mother. They thanked him as they passed and Rowan nodded and smiled in return before he went inside. This store was more of a boutique than anything else. It didn't stock a large range of things, but what they did looked like they were good quality.

Rowan started to browse, looking at some of the toys and the tiny clothes. Towards the back of the store was some furniture – he could see cots and bassinets and rocking chairs – but he was making his way towards the window. The mobile was hanging there, the flowers small blooms of kingsflame, like the one that he had seen on Aelin’s dresser. They of course weren’t real but they looked as if they were the next best thing. The only thing that was putting him off were the elephants that hung from it. He didn’t think Aelin would particularly like the elephants, not that she would have anything against them but… Rowan had noticed what she decorated her room with and the little knickknacks she had around the house. He knew she liked deer, it had something to do with her family lineage. An old sigil of the Galathynius was a white stag and Aelin seemed to follow along with that imagery. But hopefully he could at least go along with something more woodland-ly.

“Can I help you?”

Rowan turned to see the shop assistant behind him, smiling politely.

“Yeah, actually,” he said and then pointed to the mobile. “By any chance does this come with other animals?”

“It does actually, it’s one of our customisable mobiles. I’ve got a book of the options at the front counter.” The shop assistant started walking towards the counter and Rowan followed. It didn’t take her long to find what she needed and soon Rowan held a large magazine in his hand. “When did you need it by?”

“Saturday actually,” Rowan said as he started to flick through the pages.

The assistant sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but let me know which one you like and I’ll see what I can do. We don’t have all the options in stock at the moment but they can be ordered in.”

Rowan nodded and continued looking. There were horses and foxes, some weird looking dogs. He was hoping there would be deer but he didn’t see any. Maybe the foxes would have to do… But it turned out there was another option. He’d almost missed it because he was flipping the pages so fast in his frustration, but there on that almost missed page was the answer he was looking for. Rowan had always liked hawks, and birds of prey in general, so when he saw the little felt hawks in the book he had already decided.

“Do you have these?” Rowan pointed to the picture of the felt birds.

“Hmm,” the shop assistant said, her lip pursing thought. “We might. I’ll have a look out back for you.”

“I’ll just keep looking around,” Rowan said and the shop assistant nodded and left him to browse.

Rowan wandered around the store, curious about the products on offer. He stopped by a rack of clothes, flicking through the onesies. He pulled one off the rack and held it up. Dear gods, it was basically the length of his hand. Were babies really that small? Gripped by a mild sense of panic Rowan put the onesie back and kept looking. The next section he reached was the stuffed toys, an antique looking bookshelf crammed full of them. Peeking out between a rabbit and a teddy bear was the head of a little deer. Rowan couldn’t help but pick it up to look at it. Its brown coat was speckled with white, the hooves made of a velvety material and it had large fluffy ears. Rowan didn’t put it back down, deciding that Aelin would very much like it.

“Good news!” Rowan heard the shop assistant call out and she was approaching where he stood. “We’ve got the hawks.”

“I’ll take them,” Rowan said without hesitation.

“I can put them on the mobile if you like?” She offered kindly.

“That would be great,” Rowan said with a polite smile.

“I’m assuming you’re shopping for a girl?” She asked Rowan nodded. “We’ve got some new dresses over there,” she nodded to her left. “Just if you were interested.”

The shop assistant headed for the front window where she pulled down the kingsflame mobile and took it over to the counter. Rowan went over to the clothes again with renewed interest and looked at the teeny tiny dresses. A blue one caught his eye, almost the exact same shade as the dress he’d bought Aelin as far as he could remember, just without the flower pattern on it. It came in a few sizes, and reading the tags he was a bit lost as to what they meant. He soon worked out the more zeros there were the smaller the item was. Still not really comprehending the exact size of babies he thought going with a 00 might be safest and hung the hanger over one of his fingers.

By now he had pretty much looked in all the sections of the store except the furniture. Just before the furniture Rowan stopped at the display of bedding. Ignoring the sheets he looked at the muslin wraps, which there were piles of. From his very cursory searches he deducted that these were an essential item, with many uses apparently. He glanced through the stacks, seeing if any caught his eye. He paused on one that looked to have a floral pattern on it with some little critters too. Easing it from one of the stacks he saw that the critters were in fact little fawns. He added this to the growing pile in his arm.

At the very back of the back of the store was the alcove with furniture set up. Rowan wandered through it, looking at them casually. The other day Aelin had been browsing baby things on her laptop and he’d caught a glimpse of the screen as she’d put it down on the couch as she got up. She had been looking up bassinets, and she had also sadly muttered something about baby things so expensive as she walked away. Aelin was adamant that she would wait until after the baby shower to start buying things just in case anything she needed was given as a gift. She was an efficient shopper and knew how to cut costs, it was probably why her bookstore did so well.

Rowan started looking around intently, trying to remember what kind of bassinet she had been looking at on her computer. Maybe he could buy this for her so she didn’t have to fork out the money for it herself. It was an essential item so he could give it to Aelin as a gift for the baby shower, and besides that he wanted to. Gods, he’d been exercising so much self control to not buy everything that caught his eye. He was excited and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Looking at the bassinets Rowan was getting a little overwhelmed. There were different styles and some looked like they had different features, but what they did exactly Rowan had no idea. He passed one that was suspended from the roof by a large hook. The longer he looked the sicker he felt. All that was holding it up a fair few feet from the ground was some rope and a hook. There was no way in Hellas’ realm was his baby being put in one of those. Rowan turned away from the whole sight before he had a stress induced stroke just imaging the thing falling down with a baby inside it and went to look at the others. He saw one that looked similar to what Aelin had been looking at. It was a simpler design, a white bed and a timber base. This one looked much more secure with the base on the ground, and Rowan liked this one because it looked a bit taller than the others. Some of the others he had passed had barely brushed past the middle of his thigh. It would be a long way down if he was putting a baby in one of those.

He turned around and saw the shop assistant was at the counter. “Excuse me?”

She looked up and smiled and came over to him. “What can I help you with?”

“This bassinet here,” Rowan said, tapping the rim of the bed basket. “What can you tell me about it.”

“Well, this is one of the most popular designs on the market,” she explained. “First of all there’s no tools required for set up, you just attach the pieces together. Then looking at its features, it has six height positions, anti-reflex base positioning to help baby sleep if they’ve got reflux. This here,” the shop assistant pointed to the zipper, “folds down for easy and safe co-sleeping and it fits on just about any bed. Mesh ventilation is on all sides for added breathability. Just about everything is removable and machine washable, and the mattress is included.”

Rowan did not understand half of what this woman had just told him, but it all sounded good. Important, even.

“Can I attach a mobile to it?” He asked.

The assistant nodded, “You’ll need to buy a mobile arm for it but yes, you can put a mobile on it.”

“Great,” Rowan said. He was decided. “I’ll take that too. Can I pay for it now and pick it up on Saturday? It’s… it’s a surprise.”

The shop assistant nodded enthusiastically then led the way to the register. “Absolutely. Did you want to leave anything else with it?”

“I’ll take these things with me,” he nodded to what was in his arm. “But I’ll leave the mobile with the bassinet.”

“Perfect,” she said and entered some things into the computer at the register. Rowan put the items he was carrying on the counter and it only took her a few moments to scan those in too. “Would you like these gift-wrapped?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Rowan said. His wrapping techniques were atrocious. If he ever bought a gift for anyone he usually just took the receipt out of the bag and handed it over.

The shop assistant got to work wrapping the dress, deer and muslin wrap, quick and efficient. Rowan was about to pay when he saw a book on the counter.

What to expect when you're expecting

Rowan grabbed that too. “You don’t need to wrap that,” he added.

The book was for him. If he was going to be part of this and help Aelin through the rest of her pregnancy he would like to know what was going on. The more he knew the better prepared he would be for whatever was ahead of them. Because they were in this together.

“Ready to go,” the shop assistant said and Rowan paid. She put the book and wrapped items in a bag and handed them to him. “Thank you so much.”

Rowan gave her a small smile and nod in return and left. He was almost to his truck when it dawned on him what he had just done. He had just bought Aelin a bassinet for their baby. What if Aelin didn’t like it? What if there was another one she had been looking at that she wanted? What if he had just completely over stepped and this would upset her? This was a big thing to buy and maybe she wanted to be part of it...

Rowan rubbed at his face as he opened the driver’s door and got in his truck. If Aelin didn’t like it it would be easy to return. If he’d overstepped Rowan would apologise and hoped it went smoothly. But he hoped she liked it just as much as he did. He carefully put the bag on the passenger seat then pulled out his phone. There was a text from Aelin from about half an hour earlier letting him know she was going to bed and not to worry about dinner for her because she’d eaten some leftovers. Rowan didn’t reply in case he woke her up and was secretly glad she’d gone to bed. It meant he could get his purchases into the apartment without any prying questions. It took Rowan a few minutes but his thoughts settled and he was finally quietly confident with his purchases. He didn’t waste anymore time and put the keys in the ignition and drove home.

~~~~~

He’s so cute, right?

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thejollywriter · 3 years

Text

The Reformationist

Delilah Jones has done many things to try and help folks. But when she’s approached by the descendant of Irene Adler to try and catch a serial killer no one else wants to hunt, she gets the impression she’d been missing her truest calling. She finds herself apprenticed to the the descendant of one of the cleverest hustlers to ever turn a trick, and hunting a killer without conscience or hesitation.

It’s a hard day to be Delilah Jones. (Chapter One is below, I hope you enjoy)

***

“You still working security?” I asked Kaye as I approached the front door to Lexi’s. It was an erotic club near the middle of Redwood, a good place for a good time if that’s what you wanted. Lots of talented dancers and performers, lots of beautiful people for most attractions, too.

“Personal security to the boss, but given your shared history, I figured I better be the one to meet you at the door, lest someone else catch your ire.” Kaye said.

She had a sawn-off shotgun in her hands, a strap anchored to the base of the pistol grip. She kept both hands on it, finger off the triggers. Kaye was tall, leggy, skinny, smoked a lot, and had a prickly hair that tended to change color as her moods did. She was also ferociously capable as a fighter, and loyal to boot.

“Way to make me sound unhinged. Like I shouldn’t have good reason to hold a grudge.”

“They do business. That you didn’t catch that isn’t their fault.”

“You weren’t in my bedroom,” I met Kaye’s eyes. “And you don’t get to pass judgment on me from your place of reverence.”

“Leave your piece.”

“Didn’t carry.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“I don’t. But if you search me, I won’t react violently.”

“Good. Julian?”

Standing near Kaye was a twink with a mechanized crossbow. He lowered the crossbow to the end of the strap, and approached me. I held my arms out, and his hands moved swiftly over my body.

“No gun.” He said. “But I still feel like she’s armed.”

“Rigged.” I winked at him. “Don’t find out how extensively.”

“Remember your manners,” Kaye said. “I’ll be nearby.”

“Ain’t my manners you gotta worry about.” I said, and walked through the front door.

Light tubes shimmered over the entrance, the gamut of color rotated overhead as I passed through the entryway onto the dance floor.

It sloped, gently, from the front door, urged you down and to the right, towards the stage.

Most nights, it worked.

There was a bar along the left wall, but no one served drinks right now. The lights were on, the dance floor deserted, and cartons of liquor were stacked in the middle of the floor to be distributed to the bars throughout the club.

I found the stairs that led to the upper office, and climbed them. The office looked down on the club through one-way glass. And inside, I found them standing by their desk with their arms crossed.

Andy was a handsome butch, a looker under any circumstance. I’d met them a couple of years ago, when I was but a lowly freelancer and they, I thought, were just a waiter in the club. Dancer, too, and I’d paid for their attention.

Management changed, and rules of contact, and we started to share as much as could be shared with limited time in a rented booth in a strip club.

I loved them, full stop and without compromise. I still couldn’t tell you if they loved me too, or if it was just business.

The cynic’s answer is what I’m leaning towards, these days. It wasn’t always.

“Andy,” I said by way of greeting. I managed not to bark their name, which surprised me. They were tall, strong in the shoulders, with scruffy black hair and bright eyes.

“Delilah,” they stood up straight. “Good to see you.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“This is--”

“Oh you’re a specimen, aren’t you?” The other lady asked. She was British, built finer’n fine, with strong cheekbones and a mischievous smile and quick eyes that missed nothing. “You’ll do nicely.”

“Irene, this is Delilah Jones. Freelancer.”

“I was told that you’re something of a private detective.” The lady said.

“On occasion.” I said. “Who are you?”

“Delilah, please--”

“You’re a blunt one, aren’t you?” The lady faced me, hands in her slacks pockets. They were black linen, with a sharp crease, she wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a maroon vest.

She was, in fact, stylish, and if I was in a better mood, I’d probably be attracted to her.

“It’s been a day already,” I said. “I was asleep when I got the call, so, that’s put me on the wrong foot.”

“The day’s not likely to get any shorter,” the lady said. “So if you need coffee or liquor, now’s the time to fill up.”

“You know where the bar is,” Andy said, and didn’t look at me.

“I’m good.” I said. “What’s the gig?”

“Not to pivot unexpectedly, but what is the tension?” She looked back and forth between Andy and I. “There’s history, that’s evident for sure, but what was the nature? Base guess is romantic but one can’t always rely on the basest of deductions when you meet people, can you?”

“Certainly not.” I crossed my arms. “It was nothing. What’s the gig?”

“Come now, we love a good story, don’t we, and I’m absolutely dying for clarification--”

“I didn’t stutter,” I said, harder than I needed to. “And if you want my help, you better offer some clarity as to why I’m here.”

“I wanna catch a killer!” She took a few steps towards me. “He is cunning, violent, malicious, and methodical. The FBI called me crazy and said he wasn’t a serial murderer. The LAPD ignored my requests for help, and marked the internal files on the homicides as ‘nhi.’”

“NHI?” Andy asked.

“No human involved,” I said. “It’s what they say when sex workers get killed, or gang members, or homeless folks are involved in a crime. Shorthand so they can write the cases off, and the details don’t make it into the national registry for crime statistics.”

“A disgusting practice,” the lady said. “But one I can’t seem to circumvent with the powers I possess.”

“You still haven’t introduced yourself,” I said. “Andy used a name for you, but is it yours?”

“Hardly mine, it was my great-grandmother’s, but it’s got a certain poetry and I rather enjoy the beauty of poetry, you know?”

“Her name was Irene?”

“It certainly was, and her last name changed as her interests did, but she was known, professionally, as Adler for quite a while.” Irene grinned at me. “You’re not crazy, and yes, that’s my name.”

“Irene goddamn Adler.” I said, and couldn’t hide my awe. “Holy shit. Your ancestor’s exploits are legendary. The work she did in Milan during World War One is still talked about in the circles I’ve moved through.”

“That’d make her intensely happy, it surely would. It was in Milan that she met my great grandmother, the partner who helped her author the generations of Adlers to come.”

“The great Irene Adler was married to a trans woman?” I whispered. “You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t be so crass.” She was within arm’s reach now and she grinned at me with ruby lips. “Irene was a freelancer, contracted by MI5 to help with weapons smuggling. Her handler was a closeted woman, a Navy Commander, and to say they fell in love at first sight is to understate it. Irene loved her, intensely, and was immensely protective of her wife.”

“I can only imagine. And given the thoroughness with which she hustled that detective, I can imagine the lengths she’d go to protect her wife.”

“Just so.” She offered me her hand. “That marks me Irene, and you Delilah Jones, trans woman and a freelancer of some renown. What say you, Miss Jones? Will you help me catch a killer?”

“I certainly will, Miss Adler.” I grinned, shook her hand.

“Then the first order of business is coffee, while we get up to speed.”

“We have space here,” Andy said.

“No,” I said. “I’ve got a place. Thanks for the call.”

I tried not to savor the look of jealousy on Andy’s face as we walked out.

(End Chapter)

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chubbyreaderwriter · 4 years

Text

Matchmaker

Mycroft Holmes x Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Prompt: Could you write a one-shot where the reader is a dectective in Scotland yard, who met sherlock for the first time recently and sherlock still knowing that his brother is lonely decides that she would be a perfect fit for him and tries to set her and mycroft up... Basically I'm looking for a sherlock plays matchmaker.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

“So dead man on the floor, house ransacked, what do you think?...Sherlock? Sherlock!” Said man jumped out of his trance and turned to face Lestrade who was looking at him with frustration, “Well?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Come on Garret, this is easy even for you, wedding ring missing from the finger, seemingly half the possessions gone, absence of any pictures. It was the wife if you couldn’t see that already. Now enough about that, who’s she?” Greg sighed and rubbed his face with his hand before looking over to where Sherlock was facing, “Detective (L/N)? What about her?”

Sherlock said nothing, just observed you and Greg looked at John next to him. The former soldier just shrugged, “I don’t question it anymore Greg, I’m sorry.” Greg looked at Sherlock, then you, then back to Sherlock, “You like her or summit?” Sherlock hummed in approval, “Not for me.” John chuckled from how confusing his friend was being but like he said, he didn’t question it.

Without a word of warning, Sherlock made his way over to you, “Hi, I have a proposition for you which I have no doubt you’d be interested in. I would like to have you accompany a friend of mine to an evening meal. Judging by the past few failed relationships, you don’t like being lonely, even if you know you’re not compatible. But you’ve been making more of an effort in your appearance lately which can only mean you’re looking for another relationship.” You chuckled to yourself, “And you must be Sherlock. Given what people say about you, the last thing I expected you to be doing was setting me up on a date.”

Sherlock huffed impatiently, “Yes yes, now will you go on the date or not?” He clasped his hands together, a silent plead for you to accept. You thought it over for a few moments, could it really hurt to try it out? And you doubted someone who called themselves a detective would actively put you in danger so what was the harm? Nodding your head, “Okay fine, but you owe me.” Sherlock scoffed but shook your hand, “Deal, here’s your phone back, I’ll text you with the details.” You were shocked but mostly confused when Sherlock gave you your phone back, when did he take it from you? You weren’t really mad at him though, he had given you something to be excited about.

It had been a while since you had any excuse to dress up for an occasion and Sherlock had just presented it to you on a silver platter. Normally, you wouldn’t agree to this kind of thing but it had been difficult to date because of your new job now, being a detective was a turn off for most men, it seemed like.

. . .

“A what?” Sherlock rolled his eyes at his older brother, “A date, I know it’s been a while but you must remember what a date is.” Mycroft let out a sigh of frustration, “And what makes you think you can meddle with my love life like this?” Sherlock looked at Mycroft, “Oh get over yourself, you’re lonely and you know it, I’m just trying to help. Maybe then you won’t be so...you.” Mycroft glared at Sherlock, “Listen brother mine, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not lonely. I do not need you to be playing matchmaker for me, if I wanted to be in a relationship, I could easily go out and find myself one.”

Sherlock accidentally snorted from holding back a laugh, “You really think so?” At the sight of his brother’s anger, Sherlock calmed down, “Just go on the date, you’ll thank me later, she’s lovely.” Mycroft gritted his teeth, “Who is ‘she’?” Sherlock texted his brother a picture of you that he had taken from your Facebook profile, “Her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and she works with Graham.” Mycroft frowned, “Who is Graham?” Sherlock looked down at his phone as he started flicking through twitter, “Oh you know Graham, Scotland Yard, grey hair, could stand to lose a few pounds.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair, “You mean Greg Lestrade.” Sherlock nodded, “That’s what I said.”

Sherlock turned and left his brother’s office, but Mycroft shouted after him, “Where am I supposed to be going?!” He didn’t hear a response but his phone vibrated to show a text from Sherlock with the time and address. He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand, why did he have a feeling he was going to regret this? Mycroft was tempted to just refuse to go on the date to annoy his brother but as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was lonely and a little companionship might be nice for once. Spending each night alone in his large, empty house was getting rather tiring over time.

. . .

You had been told to dress ‘fancy’ so you had worn your best dress in your closet, a long sleeved, off the shoulder light pink knee length dress that flattered your body by making your waist seem smaller to give you more of an hourglass shape. You had your hair styled just how you liked it and you had decided to wear heels for this date because you didn’t want to risk seeming under-dressed and you didn’t have any flats that would match the dress. You had a small clutch that had your purse, some makeup and perfume in, as well as your keys.

You had taken a taxi to the address Sherlock had given and you were not surprised to see a very fancy restaurant, one that looked more intimidating than anything else. You weren’t sure what to do but luckily as you were stood staring at the building, you heard someone clear their throat next to you. You turned to see a man dressed in a suit and had an umbrella with them? It hadn’t been raining but you decided not to question it. You smiled at them, “Hello,”

Mycroft had been a little taken aback when he saw you, you almost seemed too good to be true. He was never someone who had much preference for looks, but you were just so beautiful. He could tell by the look on your face that you had never been here before and were nervous, symptoms of a blind date he presumed. He walked over to you and cleared his throat to get your attention and when you smiled at him, he almost forgot what to say, you had such a captivating smile. When you started to look weary of him, he realised he actually had to say something to you, “My apologies, I don’t suppose you’re here because of Sherlock?” Your shoulders dropped slightly in relief, “Yes I am, are you my date for this evening?”

Mycroft nodded in agreement and held out his arm for you to take. While the date wasn’t his idea, he was still going to be a gentleman. Your nerves started again when you walked inside the building, it was all so elegant and posh and you felt really out of place in here. You bit your bottom lip as you looked around, half listening to your date talk to the hostess. It was then that you realised you didn’t know his name yet. When the two of you were taken to a table, you cleared your throat, “I’m (Y/N) by the way, it’s nice to meet you,” Mycroft hummed, “Likewise, I’m Mycroft.” Your eyes widened a little, “Mycroft? That’s an unusual name isn’t it? I like it though.”

Mycroft studied over you, trying to pick up on all the deductions he could about you but he seemed to have a little trouble concentrating and everything was a bit of a blur. You leaned forward a little, “So how do you know Sherlock?” Mycroft straightened in his seat, “He’s my little brother?” Mycroft could see the amusement in your face, “Really? What’s it like having a genius for a brother?” Mycroft scoffed, “I wouldn’t say he’s a genius, I’ve always considered myself the smartest between us.” You could help but chuckle a little to yourself and when you saw Mycroft’s confused and partially offended expression, you explained yourself, “If you were really that smart, you would’ve noticed that I’d rather have this date anywhere but here. I’m not made for fine dining.”

Normally, this would have annoyed Mycroft, not being able to see something as obvious as this. But you intrigued him so he was more focused on learning more about you. He waited until there was the least amount of people watching and then grabbed your hand, leading you outside of the restaurant, “Where do you propose we go now?” You turned to him and looked at him with a curious expression, “You want to go watch a movie together?” Mycroft hummed, “It depends on the types of movies you prefer.” You smiled, “I like old movies.” “Hm, then I believe I have something to show you.” And that was how you found yourself being driven to Mycroft’s house.

It was weird that you didn’t feel uncomfortable around him, you didn’t feel scared of him or felt any bad vibes from him. He was surprised to feel oddly at ease with you as well, he felt like he could tell you anything despite having known each other for a very limited time. When you arrived at Mycroft’s house, you were taken back by the size of it, “My god, are you some kind of secret billionaire? Where do you work?” You giggled to yourself as you looked around the walls and ceilings, taking it all in. Mycroft had disappeared into the kitchen for a small while but could hear you talking as he came back with wine and two glasses, “I work for the British government.”

You stopped in your awe, “Are you serious? That’s pretty cool.” Mycroft felt a sudden burst of pride at how easily you were impressed with him. He smirked to himself, “I suppose so, may I ask you a question?” You gladly took the glass of wine from his hand and took a drink, “Go ahead,” “What were your first impressions of me?” You walked closer to Mycroft, “Well, I thought you looked a little fancy and uptight and I still do, but you looked like a man who was lonely in my opinion. Very cute though.” You winked at him over the rim of your glass as you took another drink and Mycroft for once, didn’t have anything to say.

You smiled at him, “Go on then, what did you think of me?” Mycroft cleared his throat and looked down at his own glass of wine, “I thought you looked beautiful, a little intimidated but someone who wasn’t afraid.” You blushed from his words and the two of you were lost in a moment between the two of you just looking into each other’s eyes. You hadn’t realised the two of you started to get closer until he was almost touching you. You cleared your throat, “So what was it you wanted to show me?”

It was like the two of you were pulled out of a trance as Mycroft blinked and moved back one step to create some distance between the two of you. He walked down the corridor to lead you into his ‘theater room’ which looked like a small cinema in your opinion. You were in total awe of this man and his house, it was so big and fancy you were almost scared. Mycroft had you sit in a seat next to him when your eyes caught the projector, “I haven’t seen one of those in absolutely ages, my parents used to have one when I was a kid.” Mycroft smiled briefly at you as he set it up, your attention being directed in front of you when the light flashed on, illuminating the dark room.

You had been excited to watch the movie and you had to stop yourself from laughing when you saw Mycroft mouthing the words along with the actors out of the corner of your eye. You were having such a good time, you almost didn’t want it to end. It was halfway through the movie that ,Mycroft put his hand up on the chair arm and didn’t realise your hand was already there until he felt it underneath his own. He was a little embarrassed about it and wasn’t sure what to do, should he keep it there? Should he take it away? Just as he was about to pull his hand away, he felt your fingers slowly wrap around his own, holding his hand. Mycroft felt his heart beat rising as he in turn held your hand and you smiled to yourself, only half focusing on the movie now.

It was disappointing when the projector stopped as the movie was over, that meant you had to let go of Mycroft’s hand while he got up to turn off the device. You stood up and stretched, the chair had been comfy but it was awkward to sit in the same position for a long time. You smiled at Mycroft after you checked your phone to see the time, “It’s getting late, I suppose I should head home.” Mycroft was unable to hide his disappointment in your words, but it was going to happen sooner or later. He was surprised to see how close he felt with you after knowing you for so little time.

Mycroft called his driver to take you home, wanting to ensure that you got home safely. “Are you sure? I can just get a cab, it’s not too much trouble.” “Please, I insist on it,” You had begrudgingly accepted his offer and the two of you waited at his front door until the car pulled up. You turned to face Mycroft, “I had a wonderful time you know.” Mycroft nodded, “As did I,” You opened your mouth to say something the same time as Mycroft and you lightly chuckled, “Oh sorry, you first,” “No, please, I’d hate to interrupt.” You bit your lip before you asked, “Would you perhaps like to do this again sometime?” Mycroft had been hoping that’s what you were going to say, “It would be my pleasure.”

You blushed a little and looked at him for a moment before standing up on the tips of your toes to kiss him on the cheek, he was a lot taller than you. Quickly, you turned around and walked over to get into the car, not looking at him until you were inside so he couldn’t see you through the tinted windows. You relaxed against the leather seats, letting out a deep breath. Your head had just touched the back of the seat when your phone buzzed. Curious to see who was texting you, you pulled it out of your clutch and read the notification on the lock screen. It simply read, “Had a nice date? - SH” You shook your head but grinned at the message before turning your phone off again, putting it back in your bag. What a weird day.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x chubby reader #sherlock x plus size reader #Mycroft holmes #Mycroft x reader #Mycroft x chubby reader #Mycroft x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader

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variousarts1234 · 3 years

Text

The Origins of SCP 049

Exactly what it says on the tin. I hope you all enjoy.

He was my first assignment- SCP 049, the deranged, non-human witch doctor who had slaughtered three of my coworkers. I didn’t know whether to be terrified or grateful. As frightening a beast as he was, this was, after all, just an interview- that had to be better than being assigned care of the more animalistic creatures that our facility held. Once I saw the several inches of bullet-proof glass we’d be separated by and the radios we’d be communicating through, I relaxed more completely.

It was a few minutes before he was brought in- a sentient plague doctor getup housing a lifeless skeleton with no soft tissues of which to speak. It sat in the chair provided for him in the padded room, and its gloved hand poked at the microphone.

“Hello?”

I read off my prepared speech. “Hello. SCP 049, it’s time for the games to end. You’re an intelligent person, and we can all tell that, and yet you continue to provide us with only the vaguest of answers. Simply put, give us clear, coherent answers to our questions, and we will grant you a live human to study for each hour of useful information you give us.” Whether this was true or not was classified, and honestly, given the number of people slaughtered for the foundation’s experiments as-was, it would hardly surprise me if it were. I would probably never know myself.

The creature cocked its head. “How do I know that this isn’t a pack of lies?”

“You don’t,” I answered, “but you have nothing to lose. And if we can’t win you over with favours, we’ll have to begin with punishments.”

The doctor leaned back in his chair, apparently relaxed as he pondered this.

“Fine. I’ll answer all the tedious questions you’ve always asked. And we shall begin with my beginnings.”

---

“A Pacific Island is where my story begins- although I’ll warn you that it jumps around quite a bit at first. I was born from the wife of a great medicine man, who was raising me to replace him when he died. Then one day, European travellers came and shipped me off in a crate.

“Thankfully, I escaped them once they unloaded my crate on the mainland. They chased after me, yes, but I ran to a forest and lost them by running through thick trees. They were too big to chase after me, you see. And I came upon a coven of witches. I was with them for six years, learning magic under them, before they kicked me out for atrocities against God.”

“What were you banished for?” I asked.

The creature appeared to ponder that. “I don’t know. I was doing all sorts of things that sat outside their rules, see? I don’t know what they found, but it probably wasn’t a third of what I’d been hiding. Anyhow, they allowed me to pack up my things, and soon I, at the age of fifteen, was wandering through the nearby town, possessing nothing but what I could carry on my back. I took a job under a priest in exchange for food and a place to sleep. Part of the priest’s job was to heal, and so I learned a few things under him. That’s the only good I have to say about him. I knew more than him, and he was set in his ways. People died because he wouldn’t let me use my witchcraft and Islander techniques. So, I studied at a seminary, and became a priest myself. The same night I came home, he named me his successor, and that very same night, I drove a knife through his heart. It had had to be done.

“My church became well-known for its healing prowess. Peasants came with their demonic possessions, and I could cure them without trephination but with only a bath in lavender water. Knights came with their infected wounds, and I could purge the poisons with potions made of metallic salts ground fine and mixed into milk. And I went on like that for several years.

“Then, one day, the king of Astbury- the kingdom of which I inhabited- came to me with his teenage son- a prodigal squire who would have one day made a fine knight- who had been stabbed in the leg. The flesh around the wound was going necrotic, and so many other healers had told him that it required amputation if the boy were to live. These healers were right, of course, but I told them otherwise. I knew that it was my chance to move up in the world, and I planned on seizing it. I took their son into a private room, let him sleep, and poisoned him- just badly enough that he would be out dead for the night. Then, I measured him, and killed a beggar of the same length of leg. By morning, the body was burned, the prince had a new leg in place of the old, and I had the king’s eternal gratitude. They believed that I had healed his leg, and being that they were offering me to stay at the palace, I saw no need to correct them.

“The king had only intended to thank me with a feast, but I convinced him to allow me one other opportunity to show my healing prowess. You see, his wife’s moon blood had stopped flowing a few years ago, and the king would have welcomed more children. I promised him that I would have her overflowing with fertility within the month, and if I didn’t, they could leave me with nothing but the clothes on my back. At first the cures I administered to her were nothing but placebos- my only plan was to live the high life for a while, have the king finance my research, and then go back to the humble life of a healer priest. What I wasn’t expecting was to actually find the cure. The queen’s moon blood retuned, and the king thanked me with a permanent position in his castle, a massive room in the basement for study, and a cut of the money I made from my healing abilities.

“What followed was the greatest period in my life! By day, there were people from all over the kingdom and from lands beyond, coming to me for cures for everything from leprosy to demonic possession to the effects of age- all new challenges to be met, conquered, and rewarded with tearful gratitude, newfound knowledge, and ample coin. By night, I ate the finest of food, drank the finest of wine, and slept on the finest silk. And I studied. My dungeon room gradually became full of experimental devices, potion reagents, and my test subjects. Yes, the king gave me whatever I wanted- including plenty of animals and the odd prisoner to experiment on. Life... was good.

“It went on like that for several decades before I reached the inevitable problem of age. Yes, up until then, there was only so much that even I could do to keep it at bay. But I had a plan, see- and one day, when I could feel the rain in my bones and was struggling to walk, even with my cane, I decided: it was time to put my greatest invention to the test.

“I had begun planning for this day years ago, including the training up of a successor. Her name was Eva. No last name- she had been a slave brought over from another realm, and had I not seen promise in her, she would have been a test subject in one of my experiments. I had treated her well, and had promised her that once I became immortal, she’d be next, and that once she was transformed, we’d both be seen as Gods and no one would see her as a slave anymore. How I wanted that. She was not yet grown, and I cared for her like a daughter.

“The process itself- well, you’ve seen a part of it, my fellow researcher, though I had constructed a machine to turn one’s innards out in just the right pattern, and now I have to do it by hand. Eva’s job was merely to start up the machine, and care for me while I was in my frail, in-between, mindless state. It’s a ten-year process, as I’m sure you’ve deducted by now.

“Wait, stop!” I called. There were several seconds of silence as I attempted to absorb what he’d said. “Those researchers you- you cured- you were-”

“Oh no, they’re dead, now. Those creatures needed proper care to become immortal, and you locked them up separate from me. Unless... the researchers of this foundation have been treating them.”

“Yes, we are,” I answered nervously. It would probably be easier to extract information from the doctor if he thought highly of our competence.

“Marvelous! On with the story, then.”

“After the machine had cleaved open my skull and rib cage, and my organs had been hung in the right places of my body, I was completely braindead for quite some time. I knew this would happen, as I’d done it to several animals in the past, and it had worked on both hound and hog. Eva kept me fed, kept my organs clean and properly positioned, polished my bones, and set me to bleed out at the proper time. I remember a period- perhaps of a few days- where I could recognize her again. She looked so much bigger and more womanly than I remembered. And then, the second stage began. A chitin that resembled a cape, immune to canons, poison, acid, age, and anything else one could name, began to grow over my organs, changing their shape and structure. I remembered nothing for several years. And then I emerged.

“My dungeon was not being kept. The herbs were dead. The animals- those who were not immortal, were mere bones in their cages. I was so angry... so angry at Eva for letting it happen... I stormed out of the basement, looking for her. I found one of the king’s advisors and demanded her location. He... he hugged me, and told me that she was dead, and so was the king. That nearly a fifth of the kingdom was dead of a horrific necrotic disease...

“I couldn’t believe it... I went for a walk around the village square, and felt how empty it was when it was once so full of life... People did not come to me in hope and awe, but in desperation. And there was nothing I could do against the disease that they called the Black Plague.

“I had caused it. My cure, the one that I had applied to myself, also causes the skin to blister and blacken before it sloughs off, leaving only the organs to be packed into chitin. Clearly, I had offended God, and this was my punishment.

“I went to a church to help the plague victims- it was all that I could think to do. The high life in the palace- the life that I’d done this to prolong- no longer appealed to me.”

“Wait,” I interjected, “the black plague wasn’t your fault. We know now that it was carried by the fleas on rats from trading ships. It had nothing to do with you.”

The abomination shook its head. “You’re wrong. People will always find explanations for what they cannot explain. I know more forms of black magic... and their unintended consequences... when I see them.”

“Very well. Carry on.”

“As I was saying. I spent a few months experimenting on the dying. I even found a cure eventually. It made no difference- people died faster than I could cure them. I remember curing a mother of five once, only to see her catch it again and collapse dead while waiting in line to receive a second treatment.

“I confessed to the priest my suspicions that I might have caused the plague, and he told me that he appreciated me, but something had to be done to appease God and stop this disease.

“He, and several other villagers, nailed me to a tree at dawn. The priest gave a speech that he condemned my actions, and wished to cleanse the world of them. That he hoped that God would receive the message, and cease their punishment. And then he set the tree on fire.

“Flames licked me, but I did not burn. I pretended to merely be an empty shell, and eventually, once the tree was burned and I was laying on the ash-covered ground with nails still in my hands, they left me. I wandered the woods for days, knowing that I was no longer welcome in the village. I grew hungry but could not starve. Wolves gnawed on me at night, but could not pierce my skin. Eventually I made my way to a pier, and snuck onto a ship. I landed in the New World.

“I have lived almost everywhere in the world in my centuries, and everywhere I go, a pestilence is sure to follow. Smallpox, Spanish Flu, Malaria, Zika Virus... in making myself immortal, I have opened a Pandora’s Box... but it was worth it, for it made me realize the ultimate truth. Pestilence is inherent to man. The cure is in leaving behind human form. And so, I stopped feeling guilty, and I began to make it my life’s purpose to convince others to take the cure. Without it... the pestilence will rot you from the inside out. Every one of you. It is inevitable.

“My time at the foundation, though, has shaken that belief somewhat. You have so little of the pestilence here. I wonder what your secret is. I see some people around here with no pestilence at all! Though, you seem to be sporting an average amount of it.”

It was at this point of the interview that I took off my sweater. The doctor stared at my arms as though they were obscene. “What?” I asked.

“Pestilence,” he said. “It has just multiplied upon your body.”

That’s when it hit me. The people who had handled him had been exclusively wearing haz-mat suits or other heavy protective equipment. The researcher he’d transformed was the first one we’d allowed, due to the abomination’s seeming civility, to enter without protective equipment. And that had been what had set him off. The mere idea was insane, but then, so was he.

“You take away our flesh to make us immortal. And so to you, our flesh is the pestilence that will be the death of us all.”

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bookishdiplodocus · 5 years

Text

Outlining for beginners, pantsers and chaotic writers

With NaNoWriMo coming up, maybe you want to have a NaNoPlanMo first.

This post is for you if…

… you want to try outlining, but don’t know how to begin.

… you never finish a first draft because you don’t know how to proceed or how to write a long story.

… you tend to forget certain characters are present in a scene.

… you don’t want to write your scenes chronologically, without losing track of your story.

… or you often write yourself into dead ends or have to fix major plot holes or pacing problems after finishing your first (or second, or…) draft.

First of all, this is not a plea against pantsing. If you’re a happy pantser, pants away, my darling!

1. So, first, let’s decide what story to write

I’m a big fan of the notion “write what you love”. If you don’t love your story, why write it at all, right?

Make a list of the elements or tropes or character types you like. For example:

queer character cast

and there was only one bed

faulty magic with bad consequences

punny names for minor characters

Now, make a list of things you don’t like. This helps me to stay away from them, especially if something is prevalent in my genre. For example: dragons, romantic stalking, politics, epic battles, the logistics of travel.

2. Now, make up the general storyline.

Look at your love list and turn them into a story in a few sentences. Don’t write more than a page, you’re still kindling your outline.

For example: An Asian girl is sent away by her parents for something she did in the first chapter. She thinks it’s a punishment and she assumes she’ll never see her parents again. But who is this uncle Bonkel she’s being sent to, and why has she never heard of him? Turns out, uncle Bonkel is a wizard and she’s gonna be his apprentice. He’ll introduce her into the feisty, fickle world of magic. But he already has an apprentice, a hot bi girl with the most gorgeous Afro hair. And, uh oh… there only is one bed…

This is just a quick example, I’m sure you can come up with something better. (Although… Can someone write this for me? ^-^)

3. Turn this tiny idea into an outline

Write out the different elements on post-its, or in a grid, whatever method of visualisation suits you best. I used post-its at first, so that I could swap things around, and when I was happy, I transferred it into an online excel that I can check where-ever I’m writing.

In this case, the example story breaks down to these elements:

Something happens, in hindsight we’ll see that the girl has used magic but she doesn’t realize it just yet.

Her parents overreact, giving her the impression she did something bad, and send her away to uncle Bonkel.

Who tf is uncle Bonkel? she wonders, as she is packing her stuff, never to return home again.

The reader gets to know the girl better during the train trip to uncle Bonkel, because of course, she doesn’t get there easily. Things go wrong, of course, what would you have thought?

And more things go wrong, but she deals with it, and the way she deals with it shows us what kind of a person she is.

She arrives at uncle Bonkel’s house and he is… weird.

She gets a glimpse of the dark goddess, a first impression, but they aren’t introduced yet.

Uncle Bonkel sits her down for The Talk: Yes, magic is real, and apparently she did magic. Whaaaaat?

Then she gets to meet the dark goddess, who turns out to be uncle Bonkel’s other apprentice, but apparently she’s less keen on sharing, both Bonkel’s mentorship and her bed.

Wait, her bed? There’s only one bed…?

...

And so forth. You get the picture. You can write big or small events on your post-its, even great parts of dialogue or random lines you came up with.

My story is more complicated than this, so I ended up making a grid for each storyline and each character (group), so I can keep track of who needs to do what when.

If you’re finished making your outline, check if you didn’t…

... leave a character dangling

... raise questions you never answered

... or start a storyline that you haven’t finished

In this example, if the girl wonders in the beginning why she never heard of uncle Bonkel, have you given an good explanation for this at some point? And if she thinks she’s never coming home again, have you included a scene in which she goes back to her parents? And is it clear to the reader why the girl thought her parents were angry when they weren’t? Have you explained why her parents don’t just sit her down and tell her about magic themselves? Or why she didn’t know about magic before the thing happened?

4. If you like, you can take this outline further to get a grip on the story’s pacing.

You can decide which events are most important and put them on a narration timeline. Afterwards, you can place the minor events around them.

To continue with my example, I decide that the scene in which she arrives at uncle Bonkel’s house will be at 20% of my story, at 40% there’s a first major magical disaster, and the first time she kisses the dark goddess will be at 50%, but of course they pretend like nothing happened, so the first time they admit there is something happening between them is at 80%. In between these events, I will play with the growing love between the girls and show them learning the fickle art of magic.

An average novel of this genre is about 75,000 words long. (You can google the average lengths for each genre.) If a total of 75,000 words is my goal, it means I need about 15,000 words (20% of 75,000) before she arrives at uncle Bonkel’s, and the first magical mishap is after about 30,000 words (40% of 75,000), etc.

From this, you can deduct how long each (post-it) element needs to be, or if you need to add a filler element, or if you need to move a post-it to a different spot.

There’s no need for your scenes to be all of the same length, of course. In my example, the scene where she gets the first glimpse of the dark goddess is much shorter than the next scene, where uncle Bonkel sits her down for The Talk.

I would advise you not to flesh out your outline too much. You don’t want to take away the creativity from writing your first draft. I usually only use one-sentence descriptions for each scene, so that I can still surprise myself while writing. This way, you’ll also avoid not finishing your outline because you get too carried away and you want to start writing before you’ve finished your outline ^-^

***

Okay, that’s it! Go forth and write, my darlings!

(BTW: This post describes an outline which still gives you loads of leeway. If you want to try a more structured approach, maybe my post How I turned an idea into an outline is something for you. This method gets your pacing right from the start by showing you what kind of elements go where on the narration line. The rest is pretty similar.)

I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing!

Follow me for more writing advice, or check out my other writing tips here. New topics to write advice about are also always welcome.

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theemptyquarto · 4 years

Text

Abandoned WIPs

for @goodintentionswipfest

“Oh my God, that was, like, the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

That was the first thing she ever said to him.

Victor Trevor, the bastard, had dragged him out of the lab, then made him drive a car full of giggling idiots for three hours to Swanage, then had abandoned him to get drunk with additional idiots from Birmingham who had driven even further. And now one of the idiots from Birmingham, the American girl with too much hair, was criticizing his stone skimming abilities.

“I’d like to see you do any better,” he said, shortly.

The girl raised her eyebrows and made a face at him, then went to look for a stone of her own.

“The water is too turbulent here,” he said.

The girl kept looking, until she found a smooth white stone, really too large for the purpose, being almost the size of her palm.

“It calls for a calmer day than this,” he said.

Then the girl drew back her arm and lobbed the stone, which skimmed perfectly, touching the water five times before sinking into the water of the bay. Because of course it did.

“If you want to skip rocks in this kind of water you need to pick a bigger one and kind of… loft it over the breakwater. Just like that,” she said, waving vaguely at the sea.

“Skim stones.”

“What?”

“Here we call it skimming stones. Not skipping rocks.”

“And it’s pech blini in Russia and hacer ranitas in Spain. We didn’t pitch your tea into Boston Harbor just to keep doing everything the same way you did.”

The words were bellicose but for once he was able to pick up on the tone, and when he looked through the ringlets that the breeze was blowing into her face, he could see that she was pinching her lips together to keep from smiling.

“I remember,” he said, slowly, “The great skimming stones debate that provoked the revolution. We learnt all about it at school. That’s why we burnt down your White House. That and your willful mispronunciation of aluminium.”

The girl burbled a laugh, and it was not as unpleasant as it mostly was when girls laughed. The “with” not “at” made all the difference.

Because he was eighteen years old and still desperately trying to pass for normal, Sherlock said, “I’m Will.”

She was twenty-one, and Mary Morstan and the rest of her pseudonyms were well into the future. So because it was the simple truth, she said, “I’m Rose. Nice to meet you, Will. I can teach you how to skip rocks properly if you want. Though it’ll wreck your attempt to look all Byronic and interesting.”

Sherlock frowned, though he wasn’t quite sure what Byronic meant, honestly. “I wasn’t trying to look like anything.”

“Oh come on. Alone, staring out over the sunset sea, the wind ruffling your hair. Very ‘Adieu, Adieu, my native shore.’”

“This is my native shore, I just wanted to look at the tide pools. Anyway, why are you here?”

“I,” she said, grandly, “Am way too close to shitfaced and I need to take a break for an hour. And I thought you looked Byronic and interesting. Where are there tide pools?”

He angled his head to their right. “Back that way. Maybe half a mile.”

“Let’s go see them!”

“I’ve seen them. And you aren’t wearing the appropriate shoes for climbing.”

Rose looked down at her cheap flip-flops, shrugged, and said, “God hates a coward. Come on.”

They’d looked at the tide pools, and Rose hadn’t complained as they scrabbled over rough Purbeck stone to get to them. Being a small woman, she’d asked for a hand up on two occasions, but she didn’t complain, and she was genuinely interested in the sea slugs and anemones they found.

Then they’d moved on to another section of swimming beach, and now she was trying to teach him to skip rocks.

“Oh! You almost had that one,” she exclaimed, as his latest effort sank.

“What sort of trajectory am I trying for?” he asked. “It really isn’t obvious.”

“Ummmm…” and she pitched another stone, which made four hops before sinking. “I mean, I guess, like fifteen or twenty degrees. But it depends on the rock.”

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“You just take the rock and then you know how you have to throw it. It’s mostly practice.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“It’s what I’m best at,” she said, and the next stone made six skips before it sank. “You got a projectile and need it put someplace specific, I’m your girl.”

“Really?”

“Really. What are you best at?”

He thought about it for a minute.

“Deductions. That’s what I’m best at.”

“Like… in geometry? If AB equals BC then A equals C?”

“Sort of. But it’s not just that. I can do it for other things. And people.”

“How?”

“Just like in geometry. You use if-then logic and come to the appropriate conclusion. Except most people aren’t aware of all of the givens, and I am.”

“O-kay,” she said, slowly, “So, like, what can you deduce about me?”

He cocked his head, doubtfully, and asked, “You want me to do that?”

Rose shrugged. “Why not? What have I got to hide?”

Sherlock wished he hadn’t mentioned it, now. It would spoil what had been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon. She was only asking because she’d never seen him do it… nobody really wanted his deductions. Everyone had something to hide.

But she had asked and declining would be nearly as offensive, he supposed. So he let himself really look. Excessive dark-blonde hair, no jewelry, black midriff-baring top with thin straps and no bra (irrelevant, he chided himself), well-developed lean musculature particularly in the shoulders. Mid-priced wide-legged flared jeans clumsily home-hemmed, since she fell between the “petite” and “regular” lengths. He walked behind her, continuing his examination, and smiled. The grey plaid flannel shirt she had knotted around her waist had a great deal of relevant information.

Returning in front of her, he asked, “May I have a look at your hands?” Rose complied, extending them forward, palms up. Her hands, with their emerald-green fingernails and distinctive musculature, had almost everything else he thought he could get, except-

“And a better look at the tattoo, please?”

Rose smiled and raised an eyebrow at that, but complied, slipping a thumb under the waistband of her jeans and tugging them down another inch or two to reveal a small, stylized design of a leafless tree struck by lightning (and incidentally a crest of pale hipbone and just a flash of red plaid underwear).

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Entirely.” And Sherlock was.

“So what do you deduce?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. You’re an American-“

“Well that was a toughie,” Rose teased.

“From Iowa. You’re a natural linguist but you’re studying chemistry. You played softball seriously, as a pitcher, until a rotator cuff injury which you opted not to have corrected bought your sporting ambitions to an end within the last year. Upper middle class family, strict parents. You currently live with a wire-haired terrier you dislike, you’re sentimental, and you’re a keen amateur cook.”

And that had done it, of course. Her face, which had formerly seemed naturally happy, had closed off and become hostile. She took a step away from him, and said, coldly, “Has Victor been talking about me behind my back?”

“You know Victor Trevor?” Sherlock asked.

“Everybody knows Victor. Answer the question.”

“No, he hasn't. I told you. I looked and I listened. Teeth straightened in adolescence, a selection of newish mid-priced clothes, spending a semester abroad? Well off but probably not rich family, then. You know, at no notice, idiomatic phrases in two separate languages describing an unusual activity? Clearly, there’s a gift for languages. The mild splay of the fingers in your dominant hand and unusual muscular development in your shoulders, along with your obvious aptitude for throwing suggests softball and pitching. The slight pull and hesitation when you draw that arm back would allow any doctor to diagnose a rotator cuff injury, a career-ending one without surgical correction, and yet you lack scars. Thus softball is over.”

Rose cocked her head and looked at him, but at least the anger was gone. So he continued.

“There’s particularly contoured dog hair common to wire-haired terriers on your jeans, meaning it’s fond of you, but none on your shirt, meaning you don’t pick it up, and you aren’t fond of it.”

“Marco’s a drooler and he scratches. Anyway I’m more of a cat person.”

“Cats eat you after you’re dead. They don’t even wait until they’re starving, just mildly peckish.”

“True, but on the other hand, I’m dead in this situation. So who cares?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, “Very practical. You’ve got enough minor knife and burn injuries to your hands to suggest you spend a lot of time cooking but your forearm development isn’t substantial enough to indicate professional work in the field. I can tell you study chemistry because of the marks on your shirt. They never properly clean the lab benches off and you lean into the edges and get some trace amounts of peroxide or acid on the material… which then produces distinctive straight lines of bleaching the next time the shirt is laundered. I have some of the same ones, see?”

He gestured to his trousers, where the bleaching effect occurred on him, given his greater height.

“Huh,” Rose said, “I never really thought about that. So why Iowa?”

“Ah, I was right!”

“Not really. Nebraska. But just across the river from Iowa.”

Sherlock sighed. “Accents are difficult with anyone young enough to have watched television as a child. But the Iowa accent is marked by monopthongs and “T”-glottalization, and you have it.”

“I have no idea what those things are,” Rose said, musingly, “But since most people around here think New York and L.A. are the only two cities in America that’s actually really good.”

Sherlock felt the blood rushing to his face with pride, and so he kept on, “You’re sentimental because that flannel is battered and you’ve fixed three different tears rather than just discarding it, even though it was never terribly expensive.”

“I saw Nirvana in this shirt.”

Sherlock frowned, wondering if she meant she was Buddhist, and then recalled the band.

“That tattoo,” he wrapped up, “Is a Marius Cook, done about five months ago. I’ve made a bit of a study of the major tattoo artists of the United Kingdom, you’d be surprised at how often it’s useful. You’ve been of legal age to get tattooed for some time but waited until you were well away from home and then did it instantly but kept it someplace easy to hide, thus: strict parents.”

It was dark, now, and someone had pulled out a guitar and was strumming amateurish chords. Sherlock and Rose had looked at one another and, in a moment of pure intoxicated understanding

The semen had more or less dried on her thighs by the time Rose decided that Will wouldn’t be back, even to collect his shirt. She sighed and rubbed her stubble-burned face. Then she pulled on her underwear and jeans, and sat and looked up at the stars, which were slightly more mobile than they ought to have been.

She’d liked him. He wasn’t handsome, but five years and twenty pounds of weight gain would probably have made him so. And he was sweet. Clumsy and inexperienced, yes, but intelligent and fun to talk with… essentially, she’d been very happy with the encounter and now she felt…

Cheap. Which was undoubtedly what her mother would have said about anyone who fucked a man who she’d just met and was expecting to never see again. So Rose had a bit of a self-pitying snivel, and cried about her troubles.

Eventually her natural good humor resurfaced (she had the beneficial confidence of someone who had taken a birth control pill every day for the last three years) and she said, smiling to herself, “Jilted by a gentleman. If I can get ruined and discarded by a redcoat I can have my own Gothic novel.”

She collected the blanket and Will’s shirt, then ambled back to the party, which was still in full swing, although the Oxford contingent seemed to have gone. Her flatmate Magda spotted her and called out, “There you are, you whore. Where’d tall dark and skinny run off to?”

“I think I frightened him away,” Rose replied, lightly, “English boys are all prudes. Are there any more of those screwdrivers?”

Magda gestured wildly at the five gallon drinks cooler behind her. “About half.”

“Good. About half sounds just about right.” And she wadded Will’s shirt up, tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin, and poured herself a drink.

They both forgot all about it. The vodka helped Rose do a great deal of this within the first twenty-four hours. Then there was the fact that Byronic-and-interesting Will was neither the first nor the last of a long string of men that would eventually span four continents, some of whom would disappoint her in far more spectacular fashion. By the time she buried Rose and became Mary, she could skim stones without even vaguely recalling that summer afternoon.

Sherlock didn’t forget much, and so deleting Rose took an effort of willpower. He performed a few subsequent experiments with sex and came to the conclusion that it was unlikely to be productive of any good and indeed, subjected him to undesirable sentimentality. Cocaine was a far more efficient euphoric and asked much less of him, in the end. The choice to purge his files on the subject en masse was therefore simple logic and had nothing to do with wishing to shed the recollection of a callow, prematurely-ejaculating version of himself.

When, much later, he plugged the memory stick marked AGRA into his laptop and began reading the files, the name Rose Addison didn’t stir even the faintest reminiscence.

“Oh no. Oh my God, you’re- You died! You jumped off a roof!”

That was the first thing she ever said to him.

#WIP #Marylock #BBC Sherlock fic #pre-series #unilock #Was going to be smutty but I dried up on how to write those bits and so is just #t-rated #Quarto's fics

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prinzeburden22 · 3 years

Text

Full Individual Women's Rhythmic Gymnastics Replay from Rio 2016 | Throwback Thursday (ANALYSIS)

Court Dimensions:

The contest was held at Rio Olympic Arena, Rio de Janeiro Brazil. The court follows the specific standard dimensions which are:

The measurements follow the metric system. An Olympic floor exercise mat is required to be 12 meters by 12 meters, which equals 39.37 feet by 39.37 feet. The standard distance from one corner to the opposite corner is 1,697 cm or 55.68 feet. Allowances are made for competitions in case the floor exercise measurements are not precise. For the length and width, the 12 meters has a 3 cm margin of error. For the measurement from corner to corner, the floor has to be within 5 cm of the standard measurement (healthyliving.azcentral.com).

Equipment:

Margarita Mamun (RUS): She wore a violet and silver costume; she also used a silver hoop for her performance which added to the aesthetic impression of her overall performance. She also used a silver and pink ball, a pink club, and a red ribbon.

Marina Durunda (AZE): She wore a costume that had a silver glitter, and also a green costume. She utilized a blue/silver hoop, a green ball, a green club, and a rainbow ribbon.

Yana Kudryavsteva (RUS): She wore 4 different costumes with gold and silver colors and various designs for each round. She used a gold hoop, a gold ball, a gold club, and a ribbon with purple, yellow, and white colors.

Katsiaryna Harkina (BLR): She wore 4 different costumes, the first was red and green, the second was blue, a silver-colored costume in the 3rd round, and lastly a rainbow-colored costume in the final round. She used a hoop with a red and green color, a blue ball, a silver club, and a colorful ribbon.

Kseniya Moustafaeva (FRA): She wore a blue costume in the first round, a green costume in the second round, a pink costume in the third round, and a silver costume in the last round. She used a silver hoop, a gold ball, pink clubs, and a red ribbon.

Melitina Staniouta (BLR): She wore a blue costume in the first round, a green one in the 2nd, a red one in the third round, and a colorful costume in the last round. She used a blue hoop, a gold ball, red clubs, and a colorful ribbon.

Carolina Rodriguez (ESP): In the first round, she wore a red and green costume, a blue one in the second, a red costume in the third round, and a black/green/pink costume in the final round. She used a green and red hoop, a silver ball, gold clubs, and a red ribbon.

Son Yeon-jae (KOR): she had a cherry blossom inspired costume and a pink hoop in the first round, a silver costume with a red ball in the second, a phoenix themed costume in the third round with orange clubs, and a rose costume with a red ribbon.

Ganna Rizatdinova (UKR): A silver/red costume with the utilization of a silver hoop in the first round. A black costume with a yellow ball in the second round, a blue costume with a black club, and lastly a green costume with a blue ribbon.

Neviana Vladinova (BUL): A pink costume with a silver hoop, a red costume with a red ball in the second round, a yellow costume with yellow clubs, a neon green costume with a violet ribbon in the last round.

Basic Skills:

Margarita Mamun (RUS)

Swings: She excels in creating different magnificent swings which captivates the audience and there is no doubt that this skill is already mastered by her in its full extent.

Throws: Her throws were great and it is also one of her winning factors because it enhanced her entire performance.

Rotations: She is very good in utilizing the hoop, in the first round she had a very good performance overall.

Mills: She also did many great mills with her club, and it was a very great to witness the performance of hers in the third round.

Marina Durunda (AZE):

Swings: She also had good swings; however, it is not that better compared to the performance of the others.

Throws: There were no problems encountered with her throws.

Rotations: Her utilization of the hoop was good but for me there were many things she could have done to enhance her performance more, but overall, she did great.

Mills: Her mills were exceptional and her club skills were fine.

Yana Kudryavsteva (RUS):

Swings: The swings she did were very amazing to see because of how she gracefully handled the ribbon, this is also one of the factors that made her gain the 2nd place overall.

Throws: Her throws were great and it was an amazing performance.

Rotations: Her rotations were carefully and beautifully done and it was very great to look at because of the colors she used that complemented the entire performance.

Mills: Her mills were overall very great and spectacular.

Katsiaryna Harkina (BLR):

Swings: She had no problem in doing this particular skill and all her strategies and plans were carried out very well.

Throws: Her throws were very good and she is very skilled in using the different tools in the performance.

Rotations: The rotations with the ribbons were good and she had no problems regarding this skill.

Mills: Her mills and club utilization were fine and it could have been better.

Kseniya Moustafaeva (FRA):

Swings: Her swings were okay but she could have given a grander execution to this skill.

Throws: The throws were also good, but it is certainly not that better compared to the skills and overall performances of the others.

Rotations: Overall, despite her overall score, she still managed to deliver a great performance and with that said her rotations in the last round were very great.

Mills: Her mills were a great addition to the beauty of her performance.

Melitina Staniouta (BLR):

Swings: She had no problem in demonstrating this skill.

Throws: All her throws were done successfully with grace and energy.

Rotations: This skill is also a factor which added more emphasis to her entire performance.

Mills: Her mills were great and there were no issues regarding this skill.

Carolina Rodriguez (ESP):

Swings: Her swings were great but it need more beauty and emphasis if she would have wanted to conquer the competition.

Throws: The throws were greatly done and there are no problems with this skill whatsoever.

Rotations: The rotations were done greatly and it added a little bit of audience impression.

Mills: Her club mills were okay and it was a good performance.

Son Yeon-jae (KOR):

Swings: Her swing added beauty and awe to the performance which also gave her a very high score in all rounds.

Throws: Her throws were very well done and accurately executed.

Rotations: The rotations were well planned and the angles she used were very strategically good regarding the performance.

Mills: She had no problems with the mills and she did greatly especially in the third round.

Ganna Rizatdinova (UKR):

Swings: Her swings were very graceful and very amazing to look at, it was one of the factors which made her gain the 3rd place in the entire competition.

Throws: The throws were carefully but spectacularly done; it added a bit of energy to the entire performance.

Rotations: Her rotations were great and there were no problems regarding this skill.

Mills: Her mills were also satisfying to look at and she has proven that she fully mastered this particular skill.

Neviana Vladinova (BUL):

Swings: Her swings were very impactful.

Throws: The throws she did were careful and calculated which made her entire performance a true success.

Rotations: The rotations she did were very well done and she had no difficulties in this skill.

Mills: Her mills were also good and well-done.

Technical & Tactical Skills:

Hoop Manipulation: All performers were skilled in using the hoop but the best hoop performances I have seen were Margarita Mamun’s, Yana Kudryavtseva’s, and Ganna Rizatdinova’s. The three had delivered an amazing performance in the first round.

Ball Control: Everyone were very skilled in controlling the ball and many of them had very spectacular performances but it really shows how skilled every one of them is on this skill and field.

Club Milling and Movement: The best club milling performance was Mamaun’s because she did very complex movements that were very phenomenal. Overall, everyone did great and actually demonstrated this skill quite well.

Ribbon Movements: Everyone had no problem with the ribbon round and I think each one of their performances were very unique and enjoyable in every way.

Rules of Rhythmic Gymnastics:

It follows these specific rules Van Deusen (2019):

Rhythmic gymnastics has a top score of 20.0 for each apparatus:

The Execution Score (E): Starts at a 10.0 and deductions are taken for technical faults (such as catching the apparatus incorrectly or losing the apparatus)

The Final Composition Score (A+D divided by 2): The Artistic Score (A) has a maximum of 10.0 and is based on the music and choreography. The Difficulty Score (D) starts at 0 and builds to a maximum of 10.0 depending on the skills performed.

Judge for Yourself

It’s easy to identify great routines without knowing every nuance of the Code. When watching a routine, be sure to look for:

Good Form and Execution: In elements such as leaps and jumps, a gymnast's toes should be pointed, her legs should be straight and she should maintain a tightness in her body. Each skill should look planned.

Control of the Apparatus: The gymnast should keep her equipment moving, and should look as if she has complete control of it. Dropping the apparatus is a deduction. If the equipment rolls away or off the floor, more penalties are incurred.

Flexibility: Rhythmic gymnasts should achieve a minimum of a 180-degree split on split leaps and jumps, and oftentimes they go much further. A great rhythmic gymnast will exhibit flexibility in her back, legs, and shoulders.

Choreography: The intricacies of movement are very important in rhythmic gymnastics. Each routine should be a performance -- and the gymnast’s music should be an important part of the routine, not simply used as background music.

The Uniqueness of the Routine: A great gymnast will perform a routine that looks different from the rest. It will have something special about it -- risky throws and catches, complicated choreography, extreme flexibility or skills that are simply unique from others performed in the competition.

Officiation:

Judges- the judges carefully observed and analyzed each performance and each split second and movement of the contestants, overall the judges did an amazing job in setting scores and evaluating the performances.

Scoring System- The scoring system was fair and it is reasonable, it is also practical because it corresponds to different rounds with different techniques involves.

Final Scores- The scores were final and irrevocable and it is truly fair because every performer got the score they deserved based from their overall perforances.

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