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lia-jones · 3 years

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Growing Together - Chapter Four - Back to Humdrum

Returning to Loveland was as heartbreaking as it was exciting. Part of me missed the lazy days spent in Bali, enjoying each other, Victor relaxed and perfectly content by my side. But the other part of me was thrilled to go back to my life as Victor’s wife. I felt like, after two years of trying to find myself, I had finally been able to lay down roots and see the fruits of my labor.

It was easy to fall back to old routines, especially because Victor enjoyed a bit of humdrum, a way to help him unwind from his incredibly busy life. So that morning, like many others, I felt his lips on my hair as he whispered to me that he was going for a run and then I fell back asleep, only to hear sometime later a lovingly mocking voice calling me sleepy head and warning me it was time to get ready. Like all the other times, I dragged my sleepy self to the shower, slapping my husband’s behind while he shaved, getting the same playful scoff in return. And according to tradition, I entered the kitchen with my hair still wet, trying to remove the remaining sleep from my eyes, I was greeted with a cup of coffee, warned that I should drink it slowly because it was hot, and sat on the stool while Victor finished making breakfast.

“French toast for Mrs. Lee.” Victor placed a plate with freshly made french toast and fruit in front of me, pecking my forehead. “Eat while it’s hot. Do you want more coffee?”

“No, I’m good.” I smiled at him, while he went to the stove, grabbing a serving for himself. “I should make breakfast more often. I feel so spoiled.”

“It’s alright, I get up earlier than you anyway.” He sipped his coffee. “Besides, I like to spoil my wife. You can return the favor by spoiling me in other ways.” He smiled suggestively, picking up his phone to read the news.

“And what ways would those be?” I teased back.

“You are creative enough. I’m confident you can think of something.” He smirked while swiping on his screen.

Our morning ritual also included a moment of quiet. It was a comfortable silence, where both of us turned to our daily schedules, preparing ourselves for the day. After breakfast, as usual, I cleared the table, while Victor grabbed his briefcase to leave. However, there was something different about this particular morning. I came home to Loveland only to find my old car dead to the world, which meant I needed Victor or the driver to take me to work since I wouldn’t dare touch any of his many cars. When I met him in the hallway, Victor was lost in thought, staring at the aquarium.

“Are you ready?” I looked at the aquarium, trying to see what he was seeing.

“Do you think our lobster is getting fatter?” He furrowed his eyebrows, observing our pet more closely.

“Looks the same to me.” I frowned at him, confused.

“It’s definitely fatter.” He concluded. “The housekeeper must have overfed him, I’m sure. He’s obese.”

I laughed, being met with a scolding gaze that quickly made me shut up.

“Victor, there is no such thing as an obese lobster.” I looked at him in all seriousness.

“Yes, there is. We have one.” He declared, closing the subject. “Let’s go, I have a busy day today.”

I found Elise waiting for me next to my office door, schedule in hand. First order of the day, to meet with my research team to know about the evolution of the study, next an emergency meeting with Olive. As I was leaving the research department, I got a call from Victor.

“Can you talk?” He spoke like the CEO I first met, incisive and cold, yet also tense. I reckoned being back after a two-week vacation meant that Victor would be a very busy man these first two days.

“Hello handsome.” I smiled. “Hard day?”

“Nothing that I can’t handle, don’t worry about it.” He softened, a smile clear in his voice. “I’m calling to let you know I’ll send a driver to pick you up, I have an emergency conference call at six.”

“It’s ok, I can take an Uber and meet you at LFG. I want to say hi to Goldman and Diane.”

“Call the driver instead. I’ll wait for you here then, and we can both go home together.” He paused, letting out an exhausted exhale. “How is your day going?”

“Good so far.” I spoke nonchalantly. “I’m heading to an emergency meeting with Olive, to discuss my future in Loveland University, whatever that means.”

“Not hard to guess. The GESA awards were announced last week, she knows you’ll have plenty of job offers.” Victor offered casually. “She wants to secure your position in the University. Assess what will make you stay.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “I’ll know soon enough.”

“Alright, I should go now. Good luck with your meeting.” I heard the rustle of sheets and Victor sighing heavily. Probably Goldman handing him more work.

“I hope your day gets better. Love you.”

“See you later, my light. I love you too.”

It turned out Victor was right. Olive Carson wanted to discuss with me what the next step in my career would be, now that I had more free time, since the second part of the study was basically data collecting.

She was no fool either. Olive knew that I couldn’t be lured with a better paycheck, so she offered me the thing that she knew I appreciated the most: recognition. She offered me a job as a teacher, but this time not to teach Economic Theory, but to create my own subject, based on my own study.

Although it was flattering, it also made me uneasy. I excused myself, with the promise of an answer after some thought.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, as I pondered Olive’s offer. It was every researcher’s dream to have his work recognized and deemed worthy to pass knowledge to younger generations but at the same time, I felt this was all to keep me there, and not solely because of my work’s worth. Besides, creating a new whole subject from scratch, even being from my own study, meant that I would have to travel frequently to the companies I was studying, evaluating them carefully, and that meant more time away from home, away from Victor.

At that moment I wanted nothing more than to root down next to the man I loved. We had gone through so much already to be together, and my hard focus on work had made Victor feel dejected, so I didn’t want to cause him so much pain again. Also, I knew he was excited to start this new life with me, as much as I was. I couldn’t make myself absent again because of work. He deserved better. We deserved better.

I was brought from my thoughts by Elise, knocking on my door.

“You told me to remind you when it’s six pm.” She sneaked from the door.

“Yes, I’m just answering some final emails and I’ll be on my way.” I said, not lifting my eyes from the computer. “You can go home.”

I hurried with my replies, not wanting to bring work home. I had a lot to think about already. I was just grabbing my purse to leave when there was another knock on the door.

“You’re still here? You should be home…” I trailed off, realizing I wasn’t talking to Elise. In her place, I found a tall man with dark sleek bangs almost covering his violet eyes, wearing a white shirt and grey pants. “I’m sorry, I thought you were my assistant.” I frowned. “May I help you?”

“I’m sorry to just knock, but I saw no one at the desk outside.” He apologized politely, with a smooth warm voice. “You are Dr. Andrea Jones, I suppose?” He extended a hand for me to shake.

“It’s Andrea Lee, now.” I shook his hand, and for an instant I felt a chill going up my spine. “You are?”

“I apologize again.” He smiled. “My name is Lucien Xu. I have read your recently published research, and I must say I am a big admirer of your work. Also, I know felicitations are in order. For the GESA award.”

“You came to visit me on purpose to tell me that?” I frowned at him, feeling suspicious. ”You could’ve just called, or sent me an email.”

“I have friends at the Economics department who I visit frequently, do you know Dr. King? He’s a good friend of mine.” His eyes focused intently on mine, and I felt a wave of relaxation rush over me. He didn’t look like he was lying.

“Yes, he is helping me supervise my research team.” My uneasy feeling magically disappeared. I was being suspicious for no reason. If he was a friend of Dr. King, he could be trusted.

“Yes, he told me you had returned from your honeymoon, and I wanted to take the chance to personally congratulate you for your excellent work. I have been following your career quite closely.” He looked at the chair next to him, and it dawned on me how rude I have been.

“I am sorry, Mr. Xu, I was in a hurry to leave, so I didn’t ask you to sit down.” I motioned to the chair. “But I think I can spare a few minutes.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose. You are clearly a busy woman, and I’m sure your husband must be waiting for you.” He walked to the door, opening it for me. “You know, Victor and I have known each other for years.”

“Well, everyone in Loveland knows Victor.” I nodded politely, thanking him. “Investments, I assume?”

“To be honest, our relationship is one of a more… personal nature.” He seemed to be carefully choosing his words, as we walked out of the building. “Unfortunately, Victor and I didn’t agree on some matters, and that caused us to drift apart quite sourly.”

“Oh?” I wondered what it could be, but I didn’t ask. “Well, I’m sure that if you talk to him, you can reach an understanding.”

“I certainly hope so.” Mr. Xu stopped, and I noticed Victor’s sedan already waiting for me in the parking lot. “Would you please do me a favor? As a sign of good faith. Send your husband my best regards and tell him that... good friends can be found in old enemies.”

“I will, of course.” I smiled.

“Thank you. And congratulations on your recent wedding. I heard it was wonderful.” He took my hand and squeezed it, with a smile.

I walked to my car in a daze, confused about what had just happened. Although harmless, that Lucien guy sounded really cryptic. I shrugged the feeling off, deciding I would ask Victor about it later.

Visiting LFG was always fun, as I had made a lot of friends there. I took my time saying hi to everyone, taking some special time to brief Diane about the honeymoon, until Goldman came to greet me.

“He’s just finishing up.” He said after a hug. “I think you are ok to go now. Oh, and you’ll meet Margot.” He smirked, “I too have an assistant now.”

“Oh, you’re going places, Goldie! Good for you!” I patted his back before I left for Victor’s office.

In the large corridor leading to Victor’s door, there was a desk. A young blonde sat there, typing furiously on her keyboard. Probably the assistant Goldman had mentioned.

“Good afternoon, Margot. I’m Andrea.” I extended my hand to her in a friendly manner. “Is Victor free already?”

She looked at me with very suspicious eyes, refusing to shake my hand.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lee isn’t taking any visitors. Do you have an appointment?” She spoke dryly.

“Do I need one?” I frowned. “I’m his-”

“You need to schedule an appointment if you want to see Mr. Lee.” She interrupted me. “The best I can do is check if he would be so kind as to concede a few minutes to you.”

Finally, it dawned on me what was really happening. She had no idea of who I was, we had never met before. And I had to admit, she was doing a really good job, being so protective of Victor’s time and space. I decided to play along and let her have it her way. I didn’t want to play the wife card on her first day and embarrass her.

“Can you just tell him I’m waiting for him? That would be a huge favor.” I smiled.

“I can do that, yes.” She relaxed slightly. “Who should I announce?”

“Andrea Lee.” I almost snorted, wondering if she would take the hint.

Apparently not. She picked up the phone to speak to Victor.

“Mr. Lee?” There was a short pause. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Andrea Lee…”

“Mrs.!” I corrected.

“Sorry, Mrs. Andrea Lee asked for me to tell you she’s waiting for you.” There was another pause before she hung up and turned to me. “Mr. Lee is coming right out. Would you like to sit while you wait?”

I nodded politely, taking a seat on the luxurious leather sofa in front of her desk. Soon after, Goldman came to me, frowning.

“Why are you still waiting here? He was about to end the call when I left.” He asked me.

“Mrs. Lee didn’t have an appointment.” Margot intervened, blushing slightly. “I already spoke to Mr. Lee, everything is taken care of.”

Goldman and I laughed, which seemed to make Margot even more uneasy.

“Andrea doesn’t need an appointment, Margot.” Goldman explained. “She’s Victor’s wife, she can walk in and out as much as she pleases.”

Margot turned beet red. I went to her, trying to reassure her. She held my hand apologetically.

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Lee, I had no idea! This was all a big misunderstanding, I hope you can forgive me.”

“His desk is full of her pictures, how could you not know?” Goldman laughed.

“I didn’t recognize her, she looks so pretty in those pictures!” Suddenly she realized what she was saying and panicked. “I mean, not that you are not pretty now, you are beautiful, but people are so different in pictures, you know?”

Margot looked like she was about to have a stroke. Before I could utter a word to appease her, I heard my husband’s voice.

“Here you are. Why didn’t you come in?” He casually rested his hand on the small of my back. He then noticed Goldman’s amused face and Margot’s flushed one. “Is there something wrong?”

“I apologize, I didn’t know she was your wife, and I made her wait outside because she didn’t have an appointment. It was an honest mistake, I’m so sorry!” At this point, I honestly thought that she was going to start crying.

“It’s ok, Margot, don’t worry.” I smiled at her. “For what is worth, I think you were very efficient. I am pleased to see that Victor has such competent people working for him. Please don’t be upset over this.”

“Thank you so much.” She visibly relaxed. “It won’t happen again.”

Victor looked confused, blinking at both of us. After a brief moment, he cleared his throat.

“Now that you know who she is, I’m sure it will not happen again.” He offered. “I’m heading home, you should get some rest as well. See you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir.” She took a deep breath. “Have a good evening.”

We got into the elevator and Victor’s deep frown returned.

“I think you broke my secretary.” He stated as the metal doors closed behind us.

Back at home, after changing into more comfortable clothes, we had dinner and moved to the living room to relax a bit before sleep. Despite his busy day, and the load of work he would probably have the next morning, Victor chose not to bring work home, adamant on having time for his family when he was home, even if his family was just me. We sat on the couch, him nursing a glass of brandy, as I rested my head on his chest, the only audible sound being my sighs of satisfaction as he played with my curls.

“How was your meeting with Olive?” Victor broke the silence. “What did she want?”

“She wanted to know what I wanted to do, now that I’m not so busy with my study.” I started playing with the fabric of his sweater. “I could either take a job elsewhere, or go back to teaching. She proposed that I would create a subject to teach, based on my study.”

“A subject for Economics students to take? That’s quite remarkable.” Victor looked at me with wide eyes. “Do you want to do it?”

“I don’t think so.” I lifted the hem of his sweater, sneaking my hand under it to caress his soft skin.

“Why not?”His hand stopped mine. When I looked up, I saw him looking at me with worried eyes.

“Creating a subject from scratch would mean endless hours working and numerous business trips. I would barely be home. Do you want that for us?” I asked, in all seriousness.

“No, I don’t.” He caressed my cheek. “However, I will support you, if it’s something you want. I will not be the one standing between you and your goals, Andrea.”

I moved closer to his face, pecking Victor on the lips.

“I know.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, while he held my waist. “But I’m not sure I want to do it either. I want to enjoy this first year of marriage, just us, building a life together.”

“It sounds like an excellent plan.” Victor pecked my nose, and I laid my head on his shoulder, as he took another sip of his brandy.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.” I mumbled sleepily on his neck. “I saw a friend of yours today.”

“You did?” He frowned. “Who?”

“He had an uncommon name actually…” I tried to remember. “It was Lucien. Lucien Xu.”

I heard the sound of glass breaking, and brandy spilling all over the sofa. Victor hissed in pain.

“Victor!” I got up, startled. “Are you hurt?”

Before I could reach his hand, he pulled it behind the back of the sofa, his blood now dropping on the floor.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing serious.” He pulled my arm to bring me closer. “Did you say Lucien Xu?

“Yes, Lucien, does it matter?” I tried to take a closer look at his hand, but Victor wouldn’t let me. “Let me see it, you’re bleeding!”

“Andrea, focus!” He held my arm forcefully, keeping me in place. “Look at me. Where did you see him? I need to know everything.”

“You’re hurting me!” I snapped, releasing myself from his grip. “What’s the matter with you? Why are you so worked up?”

Victor immediately came to his senses, something changing in his eyes, as he relaxed on the sofa. I took the chance to take his hand to look at the wound. It wasn’t deep, just a small cut, no shards embedded in his skin.

“Come on, let’s get this properly treated.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the sofa, towards the nearest bathroom. He followed me obediently, his previous adamance magically gone.

I started pouring some iodine solution on his cut, ripping a packet of gauze with my teeth. Victor watched me silently, as I worked, but I still could feel he was tense.

“He met me in my office as I was leaving to meet you. Wanted to congratulate me on the GESA award.” I intended to pacify Victor, by telling him what he wanted to know, but it actually had the opposite effect. I could almost hear his heart beating wildly on his chest.

“That was it? That’s all he said?” He became insistent again. “How did you know I knew him? Andrea, you must tell me everything. I must know every single word he said.”

“He said that you and him had some kind of fallout, I think his exact words were that things ended sourly.” I tried to recall as I wrapped some gauze around Victor’s palm. “He wanted me to send you his best regards, and tell you you can find good friends in old enemies. I thought it was weird, but to be honest, everything about him was weird.” I looked up to see my husband’s eyes fixed on me, a hint of fear in them. “But this was all it was, Victor, nothing else happened. It was very brief, very insignificant, really.”

“Andy, I need you to promise me something.” He held my shoulders, his forehead touching mine. “If he ever shows up again, if he ever tries to talk to you, you walk away, do you understand? You walk away as fast as you can and you call me. Now, promise me.”

“Victor, I don’t understand why you are asking me th-”

“Promise me.” He hardened his grip on my shoulders. “Please. Promise me you’ll walk away and call me immediately.”

“Ok, ok, I promise. I promise, you have my word.” Victor exhaled heavily, some of the tension leaving him. “But you need to tell me what’s going on. What happened between you two?”

Victor paused, lost in thought. After a moment, he spoke again.

“We both knew Mia. It’s complicated.” He simply stated.

Hearing that brought a bittersweet taste in my mouth. Of course it had to be about Mia, everything in Victor’s past, everything that moved him to the place he was now was motivated by Mia for some reason. Victor and this guy and Mia were probably part of some romantic triangle, both men trying to win the lady’s heart.

“I should’ve known.” I threw, bitterly. He tried to grab my arm, but I pulled away. “You have nothing to worry about. I will keep my promise.”

He wrapped his left arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, his right forearm clumsily holding me in place, because he couldn’t use his hand. I felt his soft lips on my cheek, his voice husky and warm in my ear.

“You know I love you more than everything, don’t you?”

I pulled back to look him in the eyes, seeing in them love, and a hint of worry. I still wasn’t sure why the Mia subject made me so uneasy sometimes, but it did. She was married, he was married. But I couldn’t shake it off.

“I know.” I smiled weakly. “I love you too.”

I could still feel the uneasiness in his embrace, and I have to admit the whole thing was making me slightly uneasy too. But whatever it was, we would deal with it. Together, as a team. I was sure of it.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingtogether #victor x oc #victor mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date #love and producer

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onedoesnotsimplywriteafanfic · 4 years

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Reunited at last (3/6)

Part: 1, 2

After an escape gone wrong they, Sam, Nate and Rafe, never quit there plan. As they kept running, the guards started to close them in. Jumping from on building to the next, gun shots filled the air. Rafe was the first to jump, Nate follow suit and Sam barely made it over. Hanging from the wall with dear life Nate offered him a hand to pull him up.

Holding on his brothers hand the guards took this as an opportunity and opened fire once more. Nate almost got Sam on the wall when they started firing, most of the bullets hit the wall but a couple ended in Sams torso.

Sam started coughing and blood dripped from his lips. ‘’Sam, no.’’ said Nate softly and scared. ‘’No, you hold on.’’ He said as Sam started to slip. Now hanging from the wall, Nate holding onto his arm with all his might. Little by little Sam started to loose concussions and slips further from his brothers grasp. ‘’Give me your other hand.’’ Nate said hasty, knowing he didn’t had much time left. But Sam could not bring him self to it and slipped out of his brothers grasp and fell down. Hitting a steal roof on his way and fell right trough it into the dark layers below.

Nate didn’t want to leave his brothers body behind but Rafe told him he was gone and that they needed to move. ‘’We have to go, now.’’ he said as he tried to help Nate up from the ground. ‘’No, I can’t, I can’t leave him behind.’’ It was a difficult decisions but he soon followed Rafe to the boat and leaving his brothers body behind.

A lump in my throat prevented me from speaking. ‘’But it is normal to think you saw him.’’ I nodded slowly. He hugged me tight and stroked my back. ‘’Take the time you need, but I do need to go back, the auction is about to start any minute now.’’ I wiped away some tears that had made there way out. ‘’I will be there in a minute.’’ I said softly, once I cleared my head I joined Rafe back in the hall.

As Rafe walked back inside he stumbled upon an old friend. ‘’Victor Sullivan, how the hell are you?’’ Rafe said with a honeyed voice. Victor, my dad, looked up from the women he was speaking with, Nadine, Rafe’s business partner. ‘’Rafe, why am I not surprised to see you here.’’ He said while shaking his hand. ‘’How long has it been?’’ Rafe asked mocking, knowing perfectly well how long it has been. ‘’Ten years, twelve?’’ he continued. ‘’Fifteen.’’ Said Victor annoyed and slightly irritated.

They spoke some more about work and business. Feeling a little bit better I decided to go back and look for Rafe. He wasn’t hard to find. Walking closer to him I could not see the man’s face he was talking to. ‘’Feeling better?’’ he asked soon as I came in his few. ‘’Yes.’’ The smile I carried soon faded as the man turned around. ‘’Dad?’’ I asked shocked. ‘’Are you here with him?’’ he pointed to Rafe. ‘’Yes. She is, Victor.’’ Answered Rafe for me as I couldn’t find the words.

With a glare Victor looked at him. ‘’She can speak for herself, son.’’ Rafe held his hands up in a backing away manor. ‘’You said you were in Yemen.’’ with my arms crossed I looked at him, waiting for his respond. ‘’Why did you lie?’’ I knew I had lied too, but this was different. ‘’I uhm, we, oh boy.’’ He mumbled. ‘’We? Nate is here too?’’ he sighed and scratched his head. ‘’Well yeah and,’’ he stopped himself from talking. ‘’I never said whit whom I was because I knew you were still pissed at Rafe for leaving but this,’’ I was angry at my dad. How and why would he lie about this.

Before he could answer the auction was about to start. ‘’And in a moment we will start bidding on our next item an inlaid wooden crucifix from the Trott Estate.’’ the lady spoke. ‘’Should have know the two of you went after the crucifix as well. You could have just told me, you know.’’ I said angry and walked away from my dad.

Without saying anything further Rafe followed me and left Victor alone. ‘’Guys, we have a problem, not only is Rafe here but also my daughter.’’ It was silenced for a second on the communicators they used. ‘’She is?’’ someone asked both hurt and hopeful. ‘’Yes, she is, but she is here with Rafe.’’ Victor said. ‘’Sam, I am so sorry.’’ Nate said, not exactly knowing what to say or feel. ‘’Let’s just focus on the task boys. We need that cross.’’ Victor said in his fatherly tone.

Looking for a place in the crowd, I admired the cross. For something so old it was in perfect condition. Preserved in its original state, finding something like this was rare. Just being here, able to see it from so close was a privilege.

The bidding had started. Rafe waited till a higher bid before he started to bid on it as well. At almost one hundred thousand euro, no one els was bidding any more, until my dad had the audacity to made the bid of the one thousand euro’s. “What is he doing?’’ I muttered under my breath. Rafe placed another bid. Thousand euro’s higher than the last.

It went on like this between the two for a good two to three minutes. After my dad had bid two hundred thousand euro Rafe got so irritated that he bid five hundred thousand euro. ‘’Get this show on the road, shall we.’’ Rafe said eager to win the bid. ‘’Does the gentleman wish to bid again?’’ The auctioneer asked. All eyes were on Victor. ‘’Its all yours.’’ he said, making a waving hand gesture. I let out a sigh of relive, if he had won this bid we would be bankrupt. We didn’t have that much money, let alone the opening bid.

A smirked formed around Rafe’s lips. ‘’We are going once,’’ the women started. ‘’Going twice.’’ the room kept quiet, Rafe could feel the victory. ‘’Then I shall sell it for five hundred thousand,’’ before she could finish the lights fell out and the hall was left in complete darkness. ‘’Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. The backup power will come on shortly.’’ the women spoke in order to keep everyone calm.

In the room whispers arose, some panicky and some calm. I had a bad feeling by this. Just a second later the backup power came on and someone stated. ‘’It’s gone!’’ meaning the cross. I should have know it. It could have only meant one thing why my dad and Nate where here, to steal the cross.

I lost Rafe in all the commotion, looking for a way out in the hope to find Nate. He couldn't have gotten far. Opening every door in the corridor I was in, I came face to face with Nate. ‘’I think you have something that doesn’t belong to you.’’ I said pushing him back in the room. ‘’Well, technically it’s neither yours.’’ he joked, but I was not laughing. ‘’Just give it back Nate, you gave up this hunt years ago.’’ He was holding back something, I could see it in his eyes. ‘’Why are you here with Rafe.’’ trying to distract me he changed the subject. ‘’Hand me the cross Nate.’’ I held out my hand. ‘’No.’’ he said stern.

With pain in my eyes I looked at my best friend. ‘’Don’t make me fight you for it Nathan.’’ he was shocked to hear me say that. ‘’You don’t mean that.’’ Somewhere I did, but hoped it would not come to it. He took some steps back while I took them forward. Slow and steady I approached Nate. ‘’There are a million other treasures to be found, can’t you just for once let one slip?’’ he shook his head. ‘’I am sorry, but I can’t not this time.’’ And with that he ran towards me.

In shock I covered my face not knowing what would come, but at the very last moment he dodged me and jumped out of the window. ‘’NATHAN!’’ I screamed and ran to the window, looking outside in the hope to see him hanging onto something, but nothing. After a couple of seconds of looking down I could hear a faint grunt. It belonged to Nate, who was probably hanging onto something underneath the window just outside of my point of view.

I let out an angry sigh before I headed back to the main hall to find Rafe. On my way there I could hear the gunshots from outside. My head was spinning, I just hoped Nate would make it out alive. Somewhere outside I found Rafe. ‘’Rafe!’’ I ran towards him and looked him up and down. ‘’You are oke. I heard the shots and.’’ my voice was cracked and my hands were shaking. ‘’Im oke.’’ he said pulling my into his arms. ‘’I was worried about you.’’ he admitted.

Back at the hotel I told him what happened. ‘’Nate stole the cross.’’ I said defeated. ‘’I should have known, that could have been the only reason why my father would be there and why he would bid such ridiculous prices he never could afford.’’ I rented without pausing. Rafe sat at the kitchen table with a glass of scotch in his hand, listening. ‘’We will find out what was so important to that cross the hard way.’’ With a big gulp he emptied his glass.

Because of my tiredness I couldn’t think logically, I needed sleep and in the morning I would look at ways to unravel this mystery. I said goodnight to Rafe and went to my room.

The next morning we talked about ways to find clues. ‘’I can go to the library, maybe find some books about Avery.’’ I suggested. A spark in his eyes ignited. ‘’Yes, If there is anyone who can find that out it’s you.’’ with a broad smile he looked at me. ‘’I can talk to some other people and drop you off at the library.’’ I nodded. ‘’Thanks. I appreciate that.’’ Out of my suitcase I grabbed my notebook and my favorite fountain pen. I never left without the two.

The drive to the library was short, he dropped me off at the Ambrosiana Library. Founded it 1609 and holds some of the oldest manuscripts of the world. I just hoped they would also have something on Avery, how small it might be, any lead could help.

Walking in without a plan, I started looking for books. Henry Avery was an English pirate in the 1600. I took books about Pirates, the Founders, some of Avery’s companions and even a scroll about Libertalia. It didn’t say much but every bit of information was critical.

Hours on end I sat in the library doing research. Once I was in my zone I easily forget to eat, drink or take breaks in general. It was getting later and later but I wasn’t going anywhere, staying in my spot until I found that piece of information that would lead us further.

After two days of searching I finally found something. A resting place that allegedly may or may not have been Avery’s. Located in Scotland. Hyped about my findings I rushed cleaning up and may have misplaced some books. With my notebook clutched in my hands I walked outside and called Rafe. ‘’I found something. Im heading to the hotel now.’’ I said before leaving the building.

Stepping outside in the cold morning air. It was in the dusk of time, I checked my phone and saw that it was five thirty in the morning. The sun was about to set and the stars where still visible in the sky. ‘’I will be there in five, just stay put.’’ I heard Rafe say with a sleepy voice. I completely lost sense of time while I was in the library.

Part 4

Masterlist

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theunderdogwrites · 3 years

Text

If you have a problem with Cookie Monster, then I have a problem with you.

Someone recently asked me how I come up with things to write about and post. Well, these posts are bona fide dumps of random thoughts that sneak in when I’m not engaging any part of my brain. I love them because they’re unpolished and exactly how my mind endlessly prattles on in conversation with itself. Truth be told, it’s usually in the shower. And the dumping of these words here is comparable to spring cleaning. It helps to declutter the mind too from time to time.

Last week my Mom and I were talking about the recent decision by Dr. Seuss Enterprises to stop publishing six of their books because of racist and insensitive imagery. For all the people screaming out there – THE COMPANY MADE THIS CHOICE. They were not forced by cancel culture, but rather listened and took feedback from audiences including teachers, academics and specialists in the field as part of a review process. This is called being responsible and allowing for growth through intelligent conversations. The company recognizes that certain depictions of Asians and Black people are hurtful and wrong and have taken steps to acknowledge these facts. They are NOT banning these books and have said they’re committed to listening and learning going forward.

Here is the list of the six book titles and the year they were first published:

- And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street (1937)

- McElligot’s Pool (1947)

- If I Ran the Zoo (1950)

- Scrambled Eggs Super! (1953)

- On Beyond Zebra (1955)

- The Cat’s Quizzer (1976)

Have you ever stumbled upon a journal or something you wrote 10 years ago and it made you cringe? Anyone who says NO to this is probably in possession of some of the worst poetry by their hand, in the world. I know that if I was to release some of the stuff I wrote down from a number of years ago (and in reality, some stuff as recent as 3-4 years ago) I’d be embarrassed by their level of absolute lameness. I write with emotion and unless you’re Tucker Carlson or stunted inside from your head to your toes, you know what it means to evolve. It is what we’re supposed to do, otherwise we are simply stuck in one place forever and I for one can’t think of anything more grotesque than remaining the same.

“You are being presented with a choice: evolve or remain. If you choose to remain unchanged, you will be presented with the same challenges, the same routine, the same storms, the same situations, until you learn from them, until you love yourself enough to say “no more”, until you choose change.

If you choose to evolve, you will connect with the strength within you, you will explore what lies outside the comfort zone, you will awaken to love, you will become, you will be. You have everything you need.

Choose to evolve. Choose love.”

Creig Crippen

It is OK to make mistakes, especially when you don’t know any better. Applying how we have grown as a society to the way we behaved 80 years ago is absurd. We are allowed the opportunity to become better before an angry mob comes along and without discussion wants to rip our character to shreds. There are so many chances for real conversations to promote development that are not happening because people are being so quick to condemn and cancel. Fucking stop it! You’re not a crusader. You’re not the moral authority. You are not the Universe’s gift to man/womankind placed here to draw red circles and X’s on every little thing you deem ‘incorrect’. What you are, I suspect, is empty. And I do not know what it is you’re missing, but you won’t find it in a state of ‘over-wokeness’ and tumbling around looking to smite Cookie Monster for passionately enjoying baked goods.

There have been calls to tear down statues and eradicate movies and people for basically what is THE PAST. If you have an actual working time machine, I suppose you can go back to the set of ‘Dirty Harry’ because apparently:

“The film mocks liberal judges and do-gooders, and the villain claims police brutality, planting the seed that other such charges are fake moves to get sympathy.”

I can’t even with that one.

The removal of statues… ok, I understand this one. But I am not of the mind where these statues should be destroyed and essentially erased from history. I am fully onboard with placing the offending bronzed individuals into a museum with a plaque stating something along the lines of: ‘Once upon a time many of us had some crazy fear-based ideas and poor ethics that marginalized large groups of our fellow human beings and created negative stereotypes resulting in a great deal of hurt. We are trying to be better than those placed before you behind the velvet ropes.’

The past cannot be expunged. But it can be a teaching tool. And in some cases, the past can be used to say – “We still suck, but we’re at least trying to evolve into improved people!”

Sadly, instead, we’re taking down Pepé Le Pew. Let’s not believe women when they come forward with claims of sexual abuse, but let’s ban together and get this cartoon skunk with perceived rapist qualities, cancelled. Bravo. Has Pepé Le Pew been a naughty guy? Well, if you break down his actions through the lens of adults – he is incredibly aggressive and borders on being a pervert. I also suspect he’s a chronic masturbater. I grew up watching Looney Tunes (which should surprise NO ONE) and I never liked that skunk. But not because he was overly persistent in his search for love, rather because he was so obnoxious. Worst character on the show. If anything, the French should be offended because I grew up believing all French people were smelly, forceful jerks.

I am flabbergasted at what we are finding urgent and of significance these days. We allow ourselves to become distracted with the stupidest things; revealing exactly where our priorities are placed. Now do not come at me and accuse me of saying racism is not important. Sit your little crusading ass back down because that is not a thought I’d ever possess. This post is not about racism.

I do not give a flying fuck if you hate Megan Markle, love Megan Markle or think Oprah practices her reactionary facial expressions daily in the mirror, but the fact a pregnant woman went on TV in front of MILLIONS of people and admitted to being suicidal while pregnant with her first child and was met with indifference, ridicule and hate… is fucking disgusting.

The mental health status of a pregnant mother is less important than going after Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street because he is misrepresenting homelessness. Oscar is NOT homeless. He lives in a garbage can and if you knew anything, you’d know that garbage can is spacious and in terms of square footage, it is probably the most expensive home in the neighborhood. See? I can distract with silly things too.

I am going to end all this randomness with a warning…

Victor Frankenstein created his monster from old body parts and strange chemicals and it was brought to life by a mysterious spark. The monster is large and strong but with the intelligence of a newborn. Victor abandons the monster, leaving him confused and when he tries to integrate himself into society, he is shunned. Seeking revenge on his creator, he kills Victor’s younger brother. Then after Victor destroys his work on the female monster meant to ease the monster’s pain and solitude, the monster murders Victor’s best friend and then his new wife.

Ok, I think it is wonderful that our society is taking inventory of certain items and doing our best to right some wrongs… even though I believe many people are being persnickety assholes. But what has been created recently… let’s call it ‘cancel culture’, where “THEY” (please someone tell me who all the THEY people are because I’d like to know who is this organized) seemingly go in search of people, places and things to ostracise… is starting to create a monster of a backlash. (Again, this is not about race/racism so don’t start chirping about white privilege etc.)

If you listen carefully, you can hear the groaning. And the frustration. This isn’t about going after history or childhood memories and bleaching them clean of inappropriateness by today’s standards, it’s about trying to control what people are allowed to think, feel and speak. And the people are getting annoyed. Just like Frankenstein’s Monster when his grotesque appearance wasn’t accepted by society. And we all know what happened next.

#dr seuss #pepe le pew #cancel culture #frankenstiensmonster #oscarthegrouch #megan markle #covid

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olboypacman · 5 years

Text

2. What is Justice? (Finale, A Cry For Justice)

A Few Months Later, The Day of The People of New Jersey v. Frank Castle

****

“Funny seeing you and the rest of the gang here, Chuckles.”

“Jason. You’re looking well.”

A tense silence manifests itself between the factions of the leather clad couple of Jason Todd and Komand’r and the Titans dressed in their civilian attire.

“Sister.”

“Kori. I see Victor’s holorings still have their uses. But, tan’s a bad tone on you, sister dear.”

“Why you-“ Kori lunges at her sister but is held back by Victor.

“OK,” Said Cyborg, “this is more awkward than I thought it would be. I’m taking Kori into the court room, gonna find us some seats. Who’d a thought this trial would’ve attracted so much attention?”

He heaves the Tamaranean over his shoulder as he walks through the door. She’s spouting off her objections to her treatment in Tamaranean, as she pounds her fists Victor’s back.

“I’m gonna join Cy- I mean Vic. You guys look like you got some stuff to catch up on.” Said a fair skinned, blonde-haired, green-eyed Changeling. “See you guy in court!” He said as waived off the others, following Cyborg.

Raven shrugs her shoulders at the people remaining. “Wait for me Gar.” She intones, coming up the rear.

“Komi,” says Nightwing, “was that really necessary?”

Blackfire gives him a look of mock innocence, “What? I’m telling the truth.”

“Blackfire,” said Jason, “let me talk with Dick alone. Find us a spot will you, cutie?”

“Fine, Jay. I’ve got you.” She pecks him on the cheek, as she makes her way into the court room to find her and Jason some seats.

“You and Blackfire. A part of me may have saw that coming-“

“Grayson,” interrupts Jason. “Is Bruce here?”

“Yeah. Alfred’s here. Babs is here. Tim’s here. Even poor Harley is here. Everyone is here. Are you planning on saying hi to anyone?”

“I’ve said all needed to him or anyone a long time ago.”

At the implication of Jason’s words, Dick sighs and says, “He never would’ve done it. None of us would’ve. For what it’s worth, he’s sorry and he misses you. And despite our recent history, I miss you too. Your family-“

“Stow it, Dick. The fact that it took some cop to do what needs to be done tells me what kind of family I’ve got. Give my love to Babs. Enjoy the trial.” Said Jason, as started to make his way into the court room.

“Wait. Why did you bail out Frank Castle?” Asked Dick.

“Honestly? I wanted to meet the man ballsy enough to properly avenge his family.”

****

“All rise!” Commanded the bailiff as the judge made his way to the bench.

The older, bald, caucasian judge, clad in the dark robes sits and bangs his gavel getting the attention of the full court as everyone present takes their seat.

He creases his brow, as if he’s making eye contact with everyone in the court.

“I know we have a lot of people here today, but I’d like to remind everyone here today we are in a court of law this day. A man is being tried for his alleged crimes and recommend all out bursts be keep to a minimum. With that being said, let’s get started with our opening statements.” The judge motions to his left, “Prosecutor.”

The prosecutor stands upon being beckoned by the judge. He’s small slip of man dressed in a cheap beige suit with an even cheaper haircut. He smiles condescendingly at Frank, practically assured of a conviction as he begins his opening statement.

“What is justice? We in the DA’s office like to define it as set system of right and wrong. Of showing those who break laws there are set consequences for what you do. Today we are here to prosecute Frank Castle for the crime of murder of the Joker in the first degree. We will prove that he did so maliciously and with no regard for our system of justice. And I would like to remind the court that the people of New Jersey are seeking the maximum conviction of life without the possibility of parole.”

A hush goes over the court as the mousy prosecutor finished his opening statement.

The hush turns into murmur as they seemingly wait for something to happen.

The judge bangs his gavel once more to bring the hush back to the court room.

“Mr. Castle, I understand you’ve waived your right to attorney. As a result of that it’s up to you to state the basis of your defense or to counter point anything said by the prosecution in your opening statement.”

Being addressed, Castle rises from his seat and says gruffly, “I decline to make an opening statement, your honor.”

A murmur goes over those present in the court and the judge bangs his gavel again to gain control of the court.

The prosecutor’s sneer returns to his face.

The judge takes a moment to take in his appearance.

Castle’s dressed in a black suit coat with matching pants and tie, with a white shirt underneath the coat. The whole ensemble looks like it’s seen better days, as littered with wrinkles and is poorly creased. There’s a look in defeat his eyes and looks like her hasn’t shaved in a while.

He’s a man whose already been beaten, dressed for a funeral for the fight of his life, thinks the judge.

“Both of you, please approach.” Commands the judge, addressing Castle and the prosecutor.

“Mr. Castle,” said the judge in a low voice, “how prepared are you for your defense?”

“I just thought to show up, your honor. Everything else is formality at this point.” Responded Frank.

“Mr. Castle, I’m telling you this for your own good, but do you recognize without a proper defense you maybe damning yourself to a guilty verdict and consequently to whatever fresh hell I’d imagine a waits a police officer in Blackgate. Yes, Mr. Castle, recognize that my power as a judge won’t save a violent offender from a super max prison, first offense or not.”

“Whatever happens, I’m consigned to the worst of what may come to be.” Said Frank.

“Then why show up at all? Your absence today would’ve defaulted a guilty verdict.”

Frank shrugs his shoulders, “Then that would’ve cost the guy that bailed me out a half a million dollars. I couldn’t in good conscience let him lose that kind of money on my say so.”

The prosecutor attempts to contain his laughs, as the judge shoots him a look of annoyance at his outburst. “You will respect this courtroom, prosecutor.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” he said as he tried to stow his laughs. “This going to be my easiest conviction yet.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, counselor.” Said Castle.

The prosecutor sneers and says, “Unless you know something I don’t, I expect a guilty verdict in less than a few hours, Castle.”

“Enough,” interjects the judge, “let’s get this case underway.” He said, dismissing them.

The judge bangs the gavel again to bring the noise of court down that came up as he was addressing the prosecution and the defense.

“Prosecution, your first witness.”

****

The prosecution had gone through about half a dozen or so witnesses of the police and EMTs that were on the scene of murder. Most testimonies were very brief and consistent outlining what happened that night a few months ago.

To no surprise to the judge and the prosecutor, Castle, acting as his own defense, had opted not to question one witness.

The prosecution had just dismissed the most recent witness, the officer who had been headbutted by The Joker.

No one even bothered to check if Castle had any questions for him, taking ques from earlier.

“The State of New Jersey would like to call Commissioner Gordon to the stand.” Said the prosecutor.

Gordon stands from his seat among the spectators. He makes his way to the stand, dressed in his signature tan overcoat, off white dress shirt with a black tie, light brown pants and black shoes.

He takes a seat on the stand and is sworn in as the prosecutor waits, sneer still on his face.

“May the witness state his name for the record,” said the prosecutor.

“James Gordon,” was the response.

“And what is your profession, Mr. Gordon?”

“I’m the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department.”

“Do you recognize that man over there?” Said the prosecutor, pointing at Frank Castle.

“Yes, that’s officer-“ Gordon stops himself, running his hand through his white hair in frustration. “Frank Castle.”

“Do you know what Mr. Castle’s vocation was until recently?”

Gordon hesitates for a moment, glaring at the prosecutor, his mouth forming a grim line. “He was an officer under my command in the city’s police department.”

“Do you know what Mr. Castle is accused of?”

“Yes.”

“And can you state what Mr. Castle is he accused of, Commissioner?”

“Murder in the first degree. He’s accused of killing The Joker.”

“And you were there on the night in question, correct?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Well, from what you saw can you tell me what happened?”

“It happened pretty fast. I was speaking with Batman, then I heard one shot and a few officers fingered Castle as the shooter pretty quickly. Joker was already down with one in his chest before I could get eyes on the situation. Castle then fired 3 more shots into The Joker, another to his chest, one to his throat, and the last one to the head, before any officers could get to him. About 4 or 5 officers’ dog-piled him before he can shoot another round off, and that scuffle didn’t last long. He gave as soon as he was tackled.”

“So, you saw him kill the victim?” Asked the prosecutor.

“Yes.”

“Was Frank Castle within his right to execute the victim the way he did? Within his duty as sworn officer of the law?”

"I speak from someone whose family was a victim of the Joker, hell I was a victim of him my damn self. What Officer Castle did, who’s to say it was wrong? Really? I mean after what he did to my girl Barbara, I can't say I didn't think about pulling the trigger myself."

“That’s interesting Commissioner, I had no idea that the police department condones the cold-blooded execution of detained criminals.“

“I didn’t say that!” Interrupts Gordon.

“Well it’s no surprise. You condoned the actions of the Bat-family in our city for years, and they done nothing to stave off the rising crime and supervillains that plague our fair city.” Said the prosecutor, as he raised his voice. “Why not execute them all? It’s only the natural progression of things under your command, right commissioner?”

“No that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then answer my question Commissioner Gordon; was Frank Castle within his right or his civic duty as an officer of the law to execute the victim?”

“No.” Said Gordon, defeatedly.

“Nothing further.” Said the prosecutor, as he makes his way back to his seat.

“Does Mr. Castle have anything for the commissioner?” Asked the judge.

Frank stood from his seat, scratching his unshaven scruff. “How’s Babs?” Asked the former police officer.

The court erupted into a roar at the question.

“ORDER! ORDER!” Yelled the judge as he banged his gavel. “Mr. Castle, the court room isn’t the social hour. Do you have questions to defend yourself, to rebuttal anything the prosecution established to the court?”

“No, your honor.” Said Castle simply.

“Thank you for your testimony here today, commissioner,” Said the judge.

“The prosecution would like to call one last witness to the stand, Frank Castle.” Said the prosecution.

The court erupted once more.

The judge banged his gavel again to quiet down the court.

Castle makes his way to the stand.

He’s then sworn in.

“Can you state your name for the record.” Said the prosecutor, as he approached the stand.

“Frank Castle.”

“What is your vocation?”

“Former officer of Gotham’s police force.”

“Former,” repeats the prosecutor. “And can you tell the court today what caused you to lose that position, which coincides with what your accused of today.” Said the prosecutor, emphasizing the word, ‘accused.’

“You read the reports and statements, councilor. You tell me.”

“Answer the question, Mr. Castle,” commands the judge.

“Shooting and killing the Joker.”

The prosecutor clicks his teeth, as if processing what was just stated.

He walks back to his table, producing a picture.

The councilor walks back to stand showing a picture to Castle.

“Do you recognize this man, Mr. Castle?”

“I do.” Said Castle simply, as the prosecutor showed the picture to the court.

“That is James Irons, an alleged associate of the Falcone crime family.”

“And what is your history with, Mr. Irons?” Asked the lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh?” Said the prosecutor, facetiously. He goes back to the table grabbing several pieces of paper stapled together. “In my hand I have a formal complaint filed with the Gotham City police department against Mr. Castle on behalf of Mr. Irons. The complaint being brutality.” He hands it off to the jury, for them to verify it for themselves.

“And what is the point of this?” Asks Castle.

“I believe the phrase your looking for is, ‘objection, on the grounds of relevance.’” Said the prosecutor, arrogantly.

“Watch your tone counselor, but Mr. Castle does have a point. To what relevance is this to the court?” Said the judge.

“I’m only trying to establish to the court a history of Mr. Castle being less than kind to detained suspects. A history that started only after his family was allegedly killed by The Joker.” Said the prosecutor.

“You son of bitch-“ Frank growls as he lunges at the prosecutor and another ruckus stir occurs as he does.

The judge bangs his gavel, to regain control of the court. And the bailiffs are able to restrain Frank before he can get to the prosecution.

“Order! Mr. Castle, you are to control yourself, councilor, please do your best not to badger the witness, or I will hold you both in contempt.”

The prosecutor obviously frazzled by having Castle jump at him, straightens himself out. “As I was saying I’m simply trying to establish to the court a history of misconduct towards already arrested suspects, a history that started,” the prosecutor hesitates as Castle scowls at him, “after the untimely death of his family. As a matter of fact, I have 5 or 6 similar complaints against Mr. Castle over the last few years. So, what were those brutality cases, Mr. Castle? Working up your nerve to kill? Some measure of revenge until you found your desired prey?”

Frank sighs, then goes to answer. “If you saw what Irons did to his wife, you would’ve done the same thing. As far as the others,” Frank paused, a far away look in his eyes, “I don’t know. Things have been difficult since my family was killed.”

“That does not excuse an officer assaulting a person that’s already been arrested. It certainly doesn’t excuse you killing a detained suspect in cold blood.” Responded the prosecutor, he starts to walk back to his table, apparently finished questioning.

“Cold blood,” laughs Frank. “That was the hardest decision I’ve made since they died.”

“What?” Said the prosecutor.

“You’ve been needling witnesses all day to paint as some kind of monster. And all day I’ve listened to you corner my former colleagues and commanding officers to confirm it so. Who am I to deny what you want?” Said Frank sarcastically. “Killing the Joker wasn’t something that came to me easy. I thought about it for a long while. When I finally decided to go through with it, I waited years for my opportunity. Waited for something, anything where I can come across that piece of shit. A transport detail, a detail guarding a door as he’s being interrogated. Literally anything. My opportunity came that night a few months ago. The city’s resident so-called hero had just subdued The Joker and all nearby cars were ordered to report to scene. I happened to be assigned to guard him with another officer while we waited for a high-security bus to come cart him off. I lucked that officer I was pared with was very antagonistic and he managed to get himself hurt leaving me all alone with the Joker. I was unsure now that the time had come to actually go through with it. When I questioned him why he attacked the civic center, his answer steeled my resolve. My only regret is that I didn’t get to empty my entire clip into the son of a bitch. Is that what you wanted counselor?”

“That’s it,” replied the prosecutor simply. “Nothing further.”

“I, um,” said the judge. “The jury maybe excused so they may deliberate.”

****

The court reconvened after only 30 minutes of deliberation.

The judge once again bangs his gavel to quiet the court once more.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” The judge addressed the foreman.

“We have reached a unanimous verdict, your honor.” Said the foreman.

He unfolds the piece of, containing said decision.

“We, the jury, find Frank Castle on the charge of first-degree murder, not guilty.”

At the rendered verdict, the court erupts more riotous than before.

The prosecutor is beside himself at the decision.

He’s yelling and ranted animated in his position at the court, mutterings of ‘mistrial’ and damnings of fifth amendment rights.

The judge is just as animated, banging his gavel attempting to regain control of the court room once more.

“Order! Goddamnit! I will clear this courtroom! Order! Order!” Yells the judge.

The court begins to simmer down at his threat. He chuckles and goes on to say, “Not guilty. Huh. Oh, well. The State of New Jersey would like to thank the jury for their service today.” He then turns his attention to Castle. “So much could be said to you, Mr. Castle. You avoided the obvious despite the overwhelming evidence against the contrary.”

“I’m just as surprised as you, your honor.” Replied Frank.

“Indeed. Mr. Castle, I wish I can say justice, as I understand it as an officer of court, was dispensed. Had it been so, you probably never would’ve been in front of me in this capacity. Commissioner Gordon’s baby girl wouldn’t be in a wheelchair. You would still come home to your family every night. Hell, that can be said of countless families across this city of ours, cause The Joker would’ve been locked away for a long, long time. But it hasn’t. Furthermore, I wish I could pat you on the back for a job well done. I wish I can tell you that-a-boy. I wish I could tell you your wife and children could rest easy now that that piece of shit is off the streets. But again, because of my station I can’t officially. Mr. Castle, the jury has given you your life back. Congratulations. Case dismissed,” he said, banging his gavel.

****

It had been a fight out the court room, as more than a few reporters had managed to find a seat during his case. He had to fight even harder on the courtroom steps, as there were reporters from every newspaper and news station trying to get a quote for this story.

Showing he still had allies in the police station, Commissioner Gordon and few other officers had formed a makeshift human barrier around Castle as they pushed their way though the throngs of journalists.

As they make their way to the parking deck, a well-built clean-shaven, red-haired man in a navy-blue suit is waiting for them. He’s standing by the rear door of limousine. Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that the gentleman actually is dressed in a military officer’s uniform.

The man then makes his own way toward Frank Castle and his escorts.

“I can take him from here, boys.” Said the man.

“Mind telling us who you are.” Said Gordon.

“Captain Rick Flag, United States military. No need to be so defensive,” said Frank, defusing the tension between the police officer’s and the man. “I served with him in the marines. He stayed with military, I decided to go into law enforcement.”

“If you say so Frank. Listen, if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.” Said Gordon, extending his hand to Frank.

“Thanks, Commissioner,” replied Castle shaking hands with Gordon.

The officers and Gordon leave Flag and Castle alone to catch up. “By the way, its Colonel these days, Frank,” said Colonel Rick Flag, extending a hand to greet his old comrade.

Castle scoffs at the Colonel, “Look at you. So, what do want, Rick?”

“I’ve got someone who wants to talk to you. I know with, recent developments you’ve found yourself with a lot of time on your hands, old friend. She’s in the limo, follow me.”

Flag leads Frank to the limo. Upon reaching it, he opens the door, beckoning him to enter.

Frank passes the threshold, fixing himself into a plush leather seat as Flag closes the door.

Sitting across from him is a heavy seat African American woman.

She’s sloshing ice around in quarter filled glass, with an amber liquid inside, alcohol presumably. She’s dressed in a blue suit jacket and pencil skirt. Her hair is incredibly short, styled in a mini afro. Her dark-brown eyes bare a seriousness mirrored in the expression on her face.

“Mr. Castle,” she said, “what do you know about Task Force X?”

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i-write-watolock · 6 years

Text

Having an Audience

Part 3 of the “Cucumber” thingy. Tags: PINING (they pine so hard); Jealousy; UST; Gay Panic(TM); Wato is a confused baby bisexual; Girl!Victor Trevor; Kento lives for the drama; Past loves; slow burn.

In the chilly air of the afternoon, Tachibana Wato wondered how did she end up hidden behind a wall spying on her flatmate and her old friend while she questions her very essence. As everything in her life lately, it had started with a case: Family heirloom- a pearl- gone missing days before a wedding. Turns out the fight had ended with the Pearl lost somewhere in the sewer, had it been any other case, Sherlock wouldn’t have bothered.

But, in an unfathomable turn of events, Sherlock had gone out of her way to help this particular client. She was a tall, slender woman with long dark brown hair and extravant, bright clothes and too many tattoos.She had been chatting excitedly with Sherlok and laughing all day. Tachibana had never seen her flatmate do a non-mocking laugh, least of all throw her head back mid laugh and look at someone so very fondly.

Naturally, Tachibana was curious.

“Kento-San, who is the girl talking to Sherlock?” Wato swears she tried her best to sound unasuming. Going by Kento’s knowing twinkle, she did not succeed.

“Ah yes! Tsukamoto Matsumi. She and Sherlock went to school together, they were friends for many years, but Tsukamoto-san finally decided to go live in Denmark with her mother, she found Japan too...traditional, for her tastes. She’s an actress and does some form of activism”.- Kento strocked his chin as he practically whispered the last part- “Sherlock held her very close to her heart.” Wato nodded as the words settled akwardly in her mind.

She had never imagined Sherlock in that level of intimacy. There was Mrs. Hatano, although she was more of a maternal figure, Reimon-San and of course, Tachibana herself, even if she wasn’t sure which category she fit in Sherlock’s world. Those kind of relationships she knew. This, however- she wondered as she glanced to the chatting pair- was different. Safely concealed by a wall and throwing every bit of good manners to the chilly wind, Wato decided to observe, not spy, observe.

And watched as the stranger said something that had Sherlock burst in laugh again, excitedly talking with her hands; as the chilly wind blew and her long hair caught a solitary sunbeam that made it look like it was set on fire; as they seemed to gravitate towards each other and eventually stopped laughing, Sherlock still smiling at some distant memory. Wato drew closer, feeling her heart caught in her throat as she tried to listen.

“Such a shame you could not get you mother’s pearl back, I’m sure Johanna would have felt a lot safer in the union”- Sherlock’s dry words held none of her usual cynical tone, they were teasing, they were almost kind. Tsukamoto recognized it and grinned.

“Oh, we’re moving into hers, so she feels safe enough. Plus, we already own a cat. She knows that I may bail on her, but I would never leave my furry son. I’m not a monster”

Sherlock huffed “Tell that to your father”.

Tsukamoto laughed, loud and unashamed- “Despicable old bastard, I hope he’s already dead. Lucky for me, there are not as many of him back in Denmark ”- She stops, regards Sherlock with a fond smile and reaches to stroke her cheek- “I wish you would come to the wedding, I barely see you anymore”

Wato feels the heavy weight of realization sinking on her shoulders. Oh.

“She found Japan too traditional for her tastes”

Johanna, Pearl, Home, Wedding. A Pearl for Johanna, Johanna is the bride and so is Tsukamoto Natsumi and they are two girls and they’re getting married in Denmark and OH.

Wato tries very hard to stand as she mentally scolds herself for not seeing this sooner. Silly Tachibana! Sherlock was right, she did not observe and it was right before her eyes, in the way the stranger talks about Johanna and carries herself; in her unusual appeareance and in the way Sherlock acts around her.

“Sherlock held her very close to her heart”

Sherlock. Who at the moment does not respond the intimate contact but neither pulls away. Instead, she shakes her head and mumbles something inaudible, but apparently right, as Tsukamoto gives a defeated sight and leans-

Wato’s thoughts are on fire and she should not look, she does not want to look. The clouds in her mind are raging and storming and she can’t stop herlsef from looking as Futaba-San’s words haunt her like a cruel prayer “Sherlock held her very close to her heart”, well of course she did, Sherlock loved her and it was obvious now and she never imagined this being Sherlock’s type and what could that mean for her and everything stops as Tsukamoto leans towards her flatmate and oh my god they’re going to kiss they’re going to kiss and they’re two women and why is she so hot under her jacket and-

Kisses Sherlock in the cheek.

Wato releases the most aliviated breath of her life, bracing herself on the wall and before noticing that her fingertips were caressing her bottom lip.

She had to get out of here.

Hours later, walking through Tokyo, Tachibana Wato could not blame her trembling body to the chilly wind. She felt so much. She felt lost and confused, she wanted to cry and laugh and do something, the nature of what she wanted to do scaped her, all she knew is that scene, that moment, that kiss...

It stirred something in her, loud and wild. Like a shapeless shadow that battled within her, against her. And ordinary Tachibana Wato fears, because she can try to deny this as she’s tried to deny war, but knows it’s to no avail: War still lives inside.

And this would not quench until it consumes her.

Author note: Ok, so by cronology i wanted to do another Sherlock pining one where she addresses the cucumber tonic, watson-wound, wing woman situation, but i’m blocked on that one and this was burning my fingers. So yeah, “Cucumber” will be in disarray and a mess but so am i so what can you do.

Natsumi Tsukamoto is Victor Trevor, and yes, they dated and remained friends because growth(TM). Also you can count this as Wato’s official identity crisis start. I hope you like it, any comments- constructive yada yada- are appreciated. <3

#miss sherlock #watolock #wato tachibana #sara shelly futaba #watolock fic #please don't judge me too much i'm not a writer i just love love #tachibana wato

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

Text

Birds Don’t Float, They Fly - Stanley Uris x Reader(IT)

This is honestly the best shit I’ve ever written. Not to sound pretentious, but for once I’m proud. ok enjoy <3

Prompt - Stan’s loved you since you saved him from Bowers, but he was never able to tell you until Stan and the Losers have a brush with It. You’re the only one who can calm Stanley down after he’s attacked, giving him the chance to express his feelings.

Warnings - Swearing (you know, Richie), sex references (that trashmouth),

A/N - Told from Stan’s POV. There’s a flashback in the timeline. Italics = Internal Thought. ‘Italics+Quotes = Past Quote.’ You’re a part of the Losers Club, hun. <3

Words ~ 5341

Summer 1989

The wind whipped past my ears and pulled at my button-up as we⎯minus Bill⎯biked to Neibolt. My feet were spinning around the gears of my bike faster than I would have liked, but I told myself it didn’t matter if Bill was going to hurt himself trying to fight this imaginary monster. We all turned down Neibolt Street like a flock of Geese that began migrating too late in the season, flying with speed for fear of what would happen if we stayed where we were.

Arriving at the withering building, Beverly spotted Bill walking up the front steps and began to yell for him. “Bill! Bill, you can’t go in there alone!” She skidded her bike to a halt, hopped off, and let it hit the street with a metallic clank.

I stopped my bike, got off quickly, and threw the kickstand down. As soon as I looked up from the pavement my eyes locked with Y/N’s and for a second I forgot about the dark threat of the house. I’d fight any made-up monster if it gave me the fucking courage to ask her out. I wish I had done it the first day I met her, but Bowers had made me feel like such a pussy that I don’t think I’d be able to give Bush the time of day.

Spring 1989

School had just let out so the hallways were empty, but somehow I managed to walk down the same one with Henry and his goons. In every other situation, I would have walked away, but Victor Criss had found a dead robin outside and those assholes were kicking it around with their engineer boots. I wanted so badly to turn and leave but Belch Huggins had delivered a kick so nasty I had felt it in my own gut.

“Hey! Leave the bird alone!” I squawked loudly enough to interrupt their laughter. The words hung in the air, unbelonging, like a burp in a silent Bar Mitzvah.

Henry turned to me with a look in his eyes that screamed he was in the mood to break something bigger than a bird and he yelled with such ferocity it was nearly a screech. “You wanna take its place, fucker? Want us to kick you around instead?” Belch and Victor laughed at Henry’s witty slap, but I wasn’t laughing. I could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of my neck. They were maybe forty feet away. If I run now, I thought. Maybe I’ll have a chance.

So without wasting any time I turned and bolted, sprinting down the hallway with two thoughts in my head. Don’t get caught by Henry and Fuck, my lungs hurt. Is this how Eddie feels? I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, ducking down hallways. With one hand on my kippah, I turned around a corner, hoping that the soles of my shoes held up, which they did. They carried me around the corner but not the girl carrying her books. I managed to crash right into her. Books flew and folders opened, dumping papers everywhere as she threw her arms up in surprise and discontent.

“What the-” She yelled angrily, staring down at what was once in her hands. She looked up at me and our eyes locked, giving her time to survey my terrified expression and finish her complaint. “What the fuck, dude.” She said, slightly softer, less angry. “Who are you running from, bolting down the hallway like that?”

As if they heard her ask, Bowers’ footsteps grew louder. “Come here you Jewish freak!” Belch Huggins yelled. I turned around expecting to see Bowers. Suddenly it was as if someone pressed the fast-forward on my life. Everything sped up and I knew that if I got caught I’d be dead meat, but something stopped me from running.

I turned back to the girl, not wanting to leave her with the mess I made, but when I looked at her again, any trace of anger had fled from her face. Instead, it was a look of pity, with an almost unnoticeable undertone of fear. “Bowers?” She asked quickly, but quietly. I nodded. She looked behind me, behind herself, and then to her left before talking again. “Get in a locker.” She could see that I was confused, so taking my hand in hers she pulled me to the lockers. “If you trust me, you’ll get in and you’ll stay quiet.”

She let go of my hand as I got in. I felt a sudden emptiness below my wrist as if she took my own hand with hers before closing the door. I could see through the slits in the metal that she quickly knelt beside her papers, just in time for Henry to nearly run her over. All three of them came close to taking a tumble but they managed to stop and simply stare at the mess.

“Jesus, Bowers,” She spoke, but the voice wasn’t hers. At least not the one that I knew. She sounded so full of confidence and typical disgust that if I had my eyes closed I would have assumed it was Greta Bowie. “Late for your tea party?”

Victor scoffed. Belch giggled. Henry glared. “Where’d he go?”

“Where’d who go, Henry? Your boyfriend?” Henry stepped forward onto one of her papers and began to talk but Y/N put one hand flat on his chest and pushed him back slowly. I was taken aback by her courage. It was like I’d been looking at Y/N in the dark and someone just threw open the blinds. I saw how her face curved and how her hair flowed. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than to throw open the locker door, grab her by the waist, and pull her in close, but the gang was still there, so I was still trapped.

Victor and Belch began to look agitated, like Henry was fanning the embers under their asses. “We’re looking for Stanley Urine.” Victor squeaked. I winced at the mocking name. They’d been using it since the third grade. I didn’t want Y/N to know me as Stanley Urine, the cowering boy she shoved in a locker. No, not like that. “Real ugly, Boy-Scout lookin’ thing. Seen Him?”

Y/N’s voiced adopted a fresh tone of shock. “Wait,” She held her hand up above her head, palm down. “‘Bout this tall, pressed shorts, curly hair, running like a maniac?” I furrowed my brows in confusion. What was she doing? All three stared at her with reignited rage bubbling in their veins. They nodded their heads furiously. “That asshole came barreling around the corner, knocked my books out of my hands, then took off.” Suddenly it made sense. She was playing them like harp strings.

Belch spoke first. “Where the fuck did he go then?!”

Y/N raised a pointed finger and directed their attention to the exit doors twenty feet in front of her, in behind them. “He skid out those doors. Looked like he was heading for the East field. Playground maybe.”

Without saying another word the bullies took off. Before throwing open the doors, Victor turned to Henry and yelled too loudly for his own good, “That’s the one you like, Henry?” Who only retaliated by giving him a swift kick in the ass before grinding up the dirt of the east field.

Y/N stuck her tongue out and made a retching sound before walking over and opening the locker I was in. I must’ve looked pathetic cause she let a little chuckle echo through her nose. “Sorry I called you an asshole. I had to play into it.” She was being genuine. For a second I wondered why she bothered to help me at all, but she brought me back to reality with her soft, calm voice. A voice too calm for someone who just went toe-to-toe with Bowers. “It’s Stanley, right?”

I chuckled and managed to talk. “Yeah, Stanley Uris. But my friends call me Stan.”

Y/N smiled. “I’d love to hold that honor, Stan.” She laughed. “But I knew it couldn’t have been Urine.”

That time we laughed together, then I noticed her books and papers were still scattered. “Here,” I offered, kneeling. “Let me get these for you.” I expected her to stand while I handed her papers, but she knelt down beside me. Occasionally we would reach for the same paper and our arms would brush⎯Y/N, I thought⎯ or we would look up at the same time and lock eyes⎯Y/N Uris, I thought.

We had collected everything and stood up in unison before Y/N spoke again. “Thanks for helping me collect my things.” She said quietly, almost bashfully. Was she being shy? In front of me? But not Bowers? You’re so confusing, I thought. I think I’m in love. “Well, I guess I should head on my way then.” She said, softer this time. As if she didn’t want to say it at all.

“Oh,” I choked. “Yeah, me too.” We both nodded but remained stationary, neither willing to move away. Even if you can’t ask her out, don’t let her go, Stupid. “Actually,” I said with the last sliver of pride I had after that fiasco. “I’m going to meet my friends in the barrens. If you have nothing better to do, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

Y/N smiled so hard her eyes crinkled. “I’d love to, Stan.”

So we walked to the West entrance, away from Bowers and his goons. I flicked up the kickstand of my bike and with Y/N sitting on the handlebars, we were off to meet the losers.

We found the group in the usual spot and I explained what happened at the school. Most of the story was made up of Richie’s commentary, but everyone fell silent when I told them how Y/N handled Bowers

Bill spoke first. “Wuh-well, it’s n-nice to m-m-meet you, Y/N.” He stuttered.

“Mhmm, it’ll be nice to have another girl in the group.” Beverly joked, elbowing Eddie, who continued to stare.

“Yeah,” Ritchie pulled his glasses from his face and wiped the condensation off on his shirt, looking Y/N up and down. “I agree.”

Y/N was beginning to blush, but something Beverly said stuck out in my head. “In the group?” I repeated. “You mean, you guys are cool if she-”

“Joins the Losers Club?” Mike interrupted. “Please do.”

The Losers murmured in agreement and Y/N smiled. It was one of the wide ones that made her eyes crinkle.

And so we were eight.

Summer 1989

“Stan, would you stop staring at Y/N and come grab a stick?”

I turned to Eddie, my eyebrows furrowed in frustration, my cheeks red in embarrassment. He matched my expression and then threw up his eyebrows, as if to say “Yeah, Stan. I can do that too. Now get over here.” I turned to Y/N. She smiled and shook her head before walking past me to the huddled group of losers.

Mike had found and cut eight tiny sticks, all at different lengths. “Everyone chooses a stick. Longest stick stays watch. Deal?” Everyone nodded and murmured mhmm.

Richie was the first to draw. The twig he drew was about the length of his pinkie. “Fuck.” He mumbled as he turned his head to the house. He looked up at it as if the dark, solemn house was a librarian, peering over his shoulder to find him drawing dicks on the cover of Lord of the Flies. Richie shook his head. “Man, I can’t believe I pulled the short straw. You guys are lucky you’re not measuring dicks.”

“Shu-sh-shut up, Richie.” Bill stuttered.

Y/N chuckled and everyone’s heads turned. We stared because for the first time in forever, laughter felt foreign. None of us had laughed in so long. Too long. We were all so intimidated by what may or may not lie in that dead house that we forgot to have fun. Isn’t that what summer’s all about? Having fun?

Y/N noticed everyone’s eyes and promptly figured out why they were staring. “You guys know what?” She said, boldly, in her Greta Bowie voice. “I’m not scared of this house. I feel the same way about going into this house as I feel about doing homework. Sure it’s daunting, but only cause I have no clue what the fuck’s going on. But once it’s done, I can enjoy my summer. And that’s what I intend to do.” She reached towards the small bundle in Mike’s hand and pulled out a twig. It was half the size of her forearm.

“That’s the longest one,” Mike said. Half appalled, half annoyed.

“Well, fuck.” She mumbled. I chuckled. It felt odd, like a forced burp, but I chuckled. Then I laughed. Y/N looked at me and began to laugh too. Then Richie. And Beverly. And suddenly the losers were laughing. All of us were laughing in the dead brush of the Neibolt property, totally forgetting any burden we carried. We felt like kids again.

Though none of us were passionate about running into crackhead houses, but we could now all agree that we’d be happy to go in together. Ben took a deep breath. “I guess that settles it. Y/N stays watch, the rest of us go in.”

The group nodded, and though the mystery contents of Neibolt should have been my priority, I couldn’t take my eyes off Y/N. Even in the face of death, I thought. She’s just so stunning.

Death. The word tumbled around in my head like a brick in a dryer, before I clenched my fists and pushed it out. There is no monster in that house, I assured myself. No death. No need to worry, Stan. Don’t be fucking stupid. With a deep breath and another glance at Y/N, I took up the front steps of Neibolt, leading the losers.

“You go, Stanley the Manly.” Richie chirped smugly. “Let’s go fight Count Chocula.”

I turned around, unable to leave Richie uncorrected. “We’re not going to fight anything, Richie. We’re going to prove that there is no monster.”

Richie only chuckled and put on a British accent. “Right sir, good ‘ol chap. Let us go. Pip pip cheerio.”

I put my hand on the cold doorknob, twisted, and opened the casket on fear.

Neibolt smelt damp and dark, as if the cellar grew and consumed the whole house. The dust on the windows tinted the sun orange, so that what little light made it through illuminated the floor in a warm, dead glow that resembled a rotting pumpkin.

The group of losers was the only source of heat in the house. “I feel like this place is sucking out my soul,” Eddie said quietly, as if he was afraid something would hear him.

“Are you saying you would rather have it suck your-“

“Richie!” Eddie yelped, only no one laughed this time. Eddie was right. There was something about this house. Something dark.

I clenched my fists again. Don’t be stupid, Stan. Something like that isn’t empirically possible. But then I heard it. It sounded low and soft, like a woman humming a sick child to sleep. The humming flowed through the air and into my soul, so that it no longer sounded like humming. It was my mother shouting my name. It was my scout leader calling us in. It was Ms.Douglas, a curled finger pointing at my chest, commanding a solution out of me, and I had no choice but to answer.

I followed the sound as if it was a trail of candy and I was a little child lost in the woods. Any traces of my friends were blurred in my mind by the filter of pure and simple curiosity. I trailed out of the foyer and down a long hallway before I lost the sound entirely. I turned my head, spinning in circles trying to pinpoint the tune, but it was gone. It wasn’t until I spun to face the way I came before I heard the creaking. I turned to face the door again. The creaks and groans sounded unnatural, fake, as if they were playing through an old walkman. But then the knob began to turn.

It spun to the left, then to the right before making a final full turn to the left. It’s Richie. My brain exclaimed, unaccepting of what it what seeing and hearing. This isn’t real. It’s just Richie. It’s a prank. It’s not real, Stan. It’s not-

The door made a sound that resembled a dying cat as the old bolts wailed together, struggling to hold up the ancient wooden door as it swung open slowly, regretfully. As if the door knew it was releasing something bad. Something evil.

You’re being stupid. There’s no evil. My thoughts cried. Stand your ground, Stanley. Be a man.

The door stopped opening. No light shone through. The room that lay beyond the door was dark and draining. ‘I feel like this place is sucking out my soul.’ Eddie had said. All I could do was agree with him, though I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to agree with Eddie, because admitting that this hell-hole was draining the life out of me was admitting that I was scared.

Turning away from the open door, I began took a quick step down the hall before I saw her. Y/N. Standing at the end of the scuffed, peeling floorboards. She was standing still, looking at me as if she were scared. Seeing her in here made me feel worse than any evil could. Imagining that this house could bring her pain opened up a black pit deep in my stomach, allowing a red-hot ache to flow over my insides. If this dark, decrepit house even dared to bring her fear, I’d burn the whole thing down.

“Y/N?” I called quietly, concern bleeding through my fake confidence. “Y/N aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”

“I couldn’t stay there, Stan.” She cooed. “Not without you.” I was so distracted by her silky voice that I almost didn’t notice how unnatural she sounded. Her voice resembled the creaks and groans. Fake. Not real. But like the humming, it was enticing. Moving towards Y/N was like moving towards road-kill. If you really valued your peace of mind, then you would stay away…but in the end, curiosity grabs you by the balls, and you do anything but stay away.

“Why would you want to come in here?” I joked in an effort to mask my own fear. “This garbage dump is the last place I’d want to be.”

She took a step closer to me. She was so close that I could smell her shampoo. I could have kissed her if curiosity would give me my manhood back. “It’s no dump if you’re here, Stan.” She was practically singing, and I didn’t mind.

“Ha, uh. Yeah.” I mumbled. “Did someone take your place? I’d hate if the police found us snooping around-”

“We don’t have to worry about adults, Stanley.” She interrupted. She wasn’t singing now. She was nearly whispering through her teeth. She put one hand on the back of my neck, the other under my arm placing it flat on my back, pulling me in. “No one’ll find us here, Stanley. No one. We won’t be found, Stanley. No no no.”

She trailed off as she rested her head on my shoulder, but with each sentence she sounded less and less real. It was as if her voice were coming through the radio and someone was slowly turning the dial to the static grey area in between stations. The feeling of worry began to bleed through the admiration. Y/N was no longer a source of heat. I could feel her change in my arms. She became the same dark emptiness that was draining Eddie. Draining me. Draining all of us. Y/N became Neibolt.

I quickly tried to pull away, but Y/N tightened her grip. Her arms were clamped around me, unyielding and ungiving. She spoke again but there was no music left in her voice, no tune, no hum. It was all static. All darkness. “We don’t need to leave Stan. We can stay. We can float. We’ll all float. We’ll all float!”

I yelped and squirmed and twisted in her grip. The sweat that made its way through my button-up made me just slippery enough. I gave one final twist, working my arms under hers. I ducked my head and pushed her back, throwing her off.

No. No, it wasn’t her. The carcass that stood in front of me wasn’t Y/N. It looked like her. Exactly like her. Except her eyes were glazed over, frosted like a sheet of ice over a dead animal. The skin on her face wasn’t radiating her characteristic glow, it was grey, dead, peeling from her face like sheets of slush off a poorly shingled roof. There was no life in her chest. Instead, her missing sternum revealed her open ribcage where black, rotten organs resigned. They looked like vegetables my mother had once left on the front steps. Our cat had gone missing, but my mother figured that if she offered food and wished hard enough, it would come back. But the cat never did, and instead, the vegetables rotted and turned black and mushy, leaving a stain of failure in front of our house.

It was only looking down at my hands that I noticed the blood and chest tissue that covered my fingers. I screamed and kept screaming. I couldn’t stop forcing the sound out. I screamed so hard that my diaphragm hurt. I figured the force and the stench of Y/N’s rotting corpse would make me puke, but somehow I kept it down. I wouldn’t have cared if I puked. I could have thrown up a kidney and I wouldn’t care, because all I could see was Y/N. It was her voice I heard. It was her corpse I saw. It was her blood that coated my hands, and it was real. It was all real.

I stared and screamed some more. I could hear the losers yelling but it was all so distant. Y/N was so close. So close and so real. So real. “Come float with me. Won’t you, Stanley?” She whispered. She was quiet, so quiet, but her voice was a shriek.

And so was mine. I screamed, one final time, and then the world went black.

When I woke up everything was shaking. Bobbing? I turned my head to find Mike’s chest. I glanced at my feet and found Ben and Beverly, each with a leg in their arms. The losers were carrying me.

“Hu-hey, g-g-guys!” Bill managed to squawk. “S-Stan’s awake! P-Put him d-down on the g-guh-grass.”

I felt them put me down on the grass. It tickled the back of my neck but I didn’t care. I looked straight up at the sky. The sun stabbed at my eyes, but it also warmed my face. It made me feel warm. Alive. She’s not alive anymore, my head screamed. I think Eddie asked me a question. He was muttering something about concussions, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t give two shits. Y/N was dead. She was my cat. Gone.

When I closed my eyes I could still see her hair, glowing under the fluorescents that illuminated her and Bower’s gang. I could still feel her warmth and smell her perfume and I remembered that one Friday night in June. The losers were having a sleepover, but I had a nightmare. One that I can’t even remember now, but it shook me to the point of tears. Y/N had woken me up and pulled my head softly into her chest. “It’s okay, Stan.” She cooed, as if I was an injured baby bird. “It was only a nightmare, Stan. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, Stanley.”

If I listened hard enough I could still hear her voice. ‘Stan.’ I could hear her call. ‘Stan. Stanley.’ “Stanley!” Suddenly I opened my eyes. “Stanley open your eyes. Oh! Stan look at me. Look at me, Stan.” My eyes were frantic. It took a few seconds for my brain to process what I was seeing. It was Y/N, standing above me. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. “Stan? Stan! Holy shit I thought you were over the hedge! What happened in there?”

She wasn’t real. She couldn’t be real. Her blood, Stan. The blood. That was real. I sat up, screamed and pushed myself back. It wasn’t Y/N. It couldn’t be Y/N. I stared at her. I stared and stared, expecting her to die in front of me again. The static spun around and around in my head like a demonic merry-go-round. ‘We’ll all float. We’ll all float.’ “We’ll all float,” I muttered.

Y/N looked so concerned. If that was even Y/N. Could it be? Was there any empirical way? “Stan, what-”

“You said we were all going to float.” I wheezed. “You’re dead, Y/N. You were dead.”

Ben stepped forward. “Stan, what do you mean?” I turned my head and stared at him. I was frantic and he must have seen it because he looked down at me with pity.

Beverly put a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N never came inside until you screamed, Stanley. By the time she got to you, you were unconscious.” Some of the losers nodded, the others murmured mhmm’s.

I turned back to Y/N. More tears trailed down her cheeks, wetting the canals that led to her chin and down her neck. She stretched a hand out. I didn’t take it. I couldn’t take it. My world was upside down. “That’s impossible.” I croaked. She took her hand back. “That’s not possible. You were-” I could feel the tears welling up my eyes. They started to trickle down my hot cheeks. “You were dead, Y/N. I felt you in my arms. Your eyes, your face, your-your-” I stared down at my hands. They weren’t clean on account of all the dirt, but there was no blood. No stains. No trace of Y/N. I started to cry harder. I looked up at her again, my eyes cloudy with water. It was as if I was looking at her through the bottom of a coke bottle.

The tears had stopped falling down her cheeks when she knelt beside me. She extended her hand out again. Palm up, as if offering something. A little sanity maybe. “Feel my hand, Stan.” I kept looking at her. I blinked tears out of my eyes so I could see her fully. Clearly. I looked at her hand. I was so reluctant. I was scared that if I felt her hand the skin would peel off and It would happen all over again, but there was something about her now. There was no static in her voice. It wasn’t tainted with a hum either. It was just her. It was Y/N. Could it be Y/N? It had to be. I think.

It was the uncertainty that was rotting inside me. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know. I had always known before this. Before Neibolt. Before It. I knew how to treat Poison Ivy. I knew not to fuck with Henry Bowers. I knew I was in love with Y/N. But now I didn’t know if she was even real anymore. I didn’t know if what I was seeing was real. I didn’t know if I should cry tears of joy because she was alive or cry myself into madness because she was worm-food. I didn’t know. I had to know. I had to find out, so I took her hand.

It was warm and inviting. It was real. This was real. This. Y/N smiled. That was real. She offered her other hand. I took it. That was real. Real. Real real real. She was real. It was almost too good to be true. “But you said we were going to float, Y/N. You were in there. I couldn’t have imagined it, Y/N. It was so-”

“Real?” She let out a chuckle. It was out of place but I didn’t argue with it. “All of our nightmares feel real until we wake up, but you’re awake now, Stan, so good morning. It’s 92 degrees in sunny Derry, Maine. A great day to go biking with friends and forget about death houses.”

I chuckled. She always knew how to make me forget what I needed to forget. Forget things like evil houses. Death houses. Dead dead houses. She was dead. “You were dead,” I mumbled. The panic was beginning to bubble violently now. It was sloshing over my bearable limit, over the rim of the pot of my life. “We’re gonna die.” I choked. “We’re all going to float. We’re gonna-”

The words stopped. They wouldn’t come out. I heard Richie make a gagging sound, but it was distant and I was distracted by Y/N anyway. She was close. So close I could have-

I knew why the words wouldn’t come out. Y/N had grabbed me by the collar and pulled me in. Her lips were locked to mine. I could smell her shampoo, her perfume, her chapstick. I could feel her warmth. I could feel her nose against mine. I could see that her eyes were closed. She meant this. She was real and she meant this. So real.

She pulled away and her eyes fluttered open. Those stunning eyes. They weren’t dead. They weren’t iced over like dead-meat in a freezer. They were as vibrant as ever and they drew me in. I was in such a trance that I almost didn’t notice her speak. Her voice was a sweet melody that reminded you of a warm summer day, just like this one.

“We won’t float, Stan. Never. You, me, the losers. We’re birds, Stan. Birds don’t float, they fly.” Y/N stood up. Taking my hand in hers, pulling me up off the dead acidic soil. “So how about we fly?”

I smiled. It was a genuine smile. Y/N had rekindled the fire. My heart burns there too. “You’re right.” I walked over to my bike, the losers watching me carefully. I kicked up the kickstand, threw my leg over, and checked my watch. “Ice-cream shop’s still open.”

The Losers club erupted in cheer. Ben ran to his bike and hopped on with surprising agility. Everyone else jogged to their bikes, pulled them up off the road, and got ready to take off. Everyone except Y/N, who walked slowly over to my bike. She stood bashfully beside me. I was close enough to kiss her. She spoke very quietly. “I’m sorry if that back there was…um. Well if it was-”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, finally managing to cherish the kiss now that I wasn’t half dead myself. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I met you.”

Y/N chuckled bashfully. “I know.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek. Softly but surely. “Me too.” We both smiled at each other before she leaned in close again, only this time she didn’t kiss me. She only whispered in my ear. “Race you to the Ice-cream shop.” and with uncanny speed she hopped on her bike and sped off, the two of us leading the Losers Club in a mad dash on wheels. We forgot all about Neibolt speeding down that street, Bill triumphantly yelling “Hi-ho, Silver. Away!”

And down Neibolt street, through Derry, away from all the fear and the pain… we flew.

I love you all with my life and I want you to know that the IT imagines aren’t stopping here!

Peace out girl-scouts!

Love, E

(fans-of-fiction)

188 notes · View notes

sunlitroom · 6 years

Text

Gotham – s4e10 – Things That Go Boom

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Jim got his tainted captaincy from a tainted man by tainted means. Oswald knows that Sofia paid off the mayor, but only asks that she never betray him again. Oswald wants Ed back from the narrows. Barbara shot Cherry. This is Lee’s turf! He’s eating cooking them. Martin is in danger. Jim arrested Pyg. Sofia will never be Jim’s enemy. Martin told what he saw. Oswald says Sofia will pay for what she’s done.

As always, long post will be long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

Arkham, and the usual parade we get. Thanks, show. Strolling over to the gramophone player, Pyg changes the record to Ave Maria and does some Hannibal-esque hand movements in front of it, eyes shut. He’s such a tool.

The other patients seem ok with the new music - except for one who doesn't like the song. His mother used to beat him to it, and it was playing when he killed her. He tells Pyg to turn it off or he’ll do the same to him.

Pyg smiles nastily and walks towards him. In a mocking tone, he asks why his mother beat him – was he naughty? Did he soil his trousers? Did he stutter?

The poor man, visibly struggling, swings a punch at him. When Pyg reels away – we see a close-up of his face, which looks strangely distorted.

Telling the man he wishes he hadn’t done that, he pops his jaw back into place. He comments that he paid a fortune to look this good, deliberately flicking the record back on again. When the man rushes towards him, enraged, Pyg stabs him in the gut with the cracked record, and then slits his throat with the other half, and we see the man die to the tune that tormented him.

Pyg goes back to conducting. I start to ponder who I’d like to kill him and how.

At GPCD, where Jim and Lucius are examining an x-ray. Pyg apparently has titanium plates under his skin, altering his appearance, as well as having had his fingerprints burned off. Lucius says he must have had multiple surgeries. Jim says this makes no sense – Pyg is a ‘glory hound’, a classic sociopath: why doesn’t he want the credit? He asks Lucius if he could reconstruct Pyg’s original face, and then leaves.

Harper catches him on the way up to his office, and tells him he has a visitor: Sofia. He thanks her. Entering the office, he asks Sofia what she’s doing there. Sofia says that she hadn’t heard from him in a few days. Jim looks askance at her, and remarks that he didn’t know he was meant to call. Sofia replies that after the other night, she thought they were seeing each other again

(An aside – yeuch. Really, Jim?)

Sofia is very bright and smiley. She thinks Jim’s worried about Oswald, and tells him he doesn’t have to be – she told him. Jim’s eyes widen

You did what?

Sofia claims that she has it under control – she’ll remove Oswald, and then they can be together.

Jim shifts uncomfortably. He tells Sofia that whether Oswald is in the picture or not, they’re not going to work. He doesn’t see a way forward for them. Sofia’s face shifts into a huffy, affronted expression very similar to the one she wore when Carmine told her she wasn’t ready for Gotham.

(A lengthy aside.

Ugh. I’m really hoping that we find there’s more to Sofia in the next episode, and that she was playing Jim here as much as she has apparently been playing Oswald. There was plenty about her that was interesting early on. The fact that we view her in a parent/child context due to her being Falcone’s daughter, her manipulativeness, her sulkiness at being overlooked, her ability to seem non-threatening: these were all characteristics that gave her a certain kinship with Oswald, the man she was in town to overthrow. That gave their relationship room for nuance – would she empathise with the man she was planning to ‘remove’? Feel conflicted?

Her close relationship with her brother meant that she had ample cause to resent Jim and want revenge, even though she was seemingly in town to help him out, as well as sleeping with him.

If, from those promising beginnings, what we’ve actually ended up with is yet another character who holds Oswald in total contempt for no good reason, and yet another woman who has mystifyingly decided that Jim is her one and only – then I’ll be pretty disappointed.

Another ugh – this ‘relationship’. If she is sincere, what has Sofia’s romantic past been that a relationship with Jim looks so enticing? There’s been an occasional fuck after business meetings and lots of mistrustful staring and now she’s starry-eyed? Am I supposed to be sold on this? The whole thing has just seemed tawdry – especially from Jim, who seemingly continued things even after hearing Sofia describe Harvey – the guy who saved his neck more than once - as weak, incompetent and a burden.

It’s never really felt particularly passionate, either. There’s no trust, no emotional engagement, no romance. You could at least see emotional neediness at play in his makeshift relationship with Valerie Vale – but what the hell was I supposed to see here? It’s just seemed sordid. And torpid. Turgid. Flaccid. Putrid. Take your pick.)

The Narrows - where Lee is holding court over a dispute. Ed advises, but Lee wants to solve issues peacefully. Where Ed remarks that allowing one to stab the other would solve the problem, Lee wants them to join forces. Before the man leaves, Lee asks after his daughter. He tells her that her fever is down, and thanks her.

Ed looks at her. He says that

These bums are so lucky to have you

Lee sighs, and says she hasn’t forgotten about him. Ed, agitates, says she says that, but he’s still a moron. Lee says that she said she’d fix him, and she will.

Their conversation is interrupted by a man with a broken nose. Someone called Samson did this after he refused to pay protection money and told him Lee was in charge. Ed says she has to show him that she can't be pushed around, and she should send Butch. Lee says she can’t have Butch solve everything while preaching peace to everyone else – it’s hypocritical. Ed asks what she is going to do, then?

As Sofia gets home, we hear stormy weather outside, and see Oswald waiting for her. She feigns a smile, and says that this is a pleasant surprise. Oswald smiles tightly and assures her that this is nothing pleasant.

Oooooh – Victor strolls into the room. Hi Victor. Take me now, Victor.

Oswald continues. He says he was continually suspicious of her – but she always had the perfect explanation to defuse his suspicions

(An aside – this alone is implausible. Oswald has played that game before – he knows that too many perfect explanations are suspicious in and of themselves. It doesn’t wash that he’d have put it to one side.)

He says, though, he finally has proof of his enemy. She told him she hated Jim, but she is – in fact – his lover. Martin saw them both. She tries to deflect, but Oswald says he’s had enough of her lies, their entire friendship - the intimacies they shared: all a pathetic charade

Sofia insists that she cares for him deeply. Oswald says that he wishes that were true, but he did some digging and found out about Jim’s trip down south just before Sofia arrived in town

(An aside – again, implausible. We’ve seen that Oswald tends to know Jim’s home address. He was likely to be keeping a particular eye on him at that time due to their disagreement over the Pax. Yet he’s only just found out he went on a short holiday? Nope)

Sofia stares at the floor, apparently caught out. Victor chips in

Coincidence? I think not

Oswald says that they were plotting to destroy him the whole time.

Sofia’s face changes, and takes on a shark-like blankness. She spits venom.

Bravo, Oswald. I was warned you were a mastermind, but you were an easy mark. It’s amazing what you can accomplish with goulash and a good foot rub.

As if things weren’t already weirdly domestic enough between them at the Iceberg Lounge, Victor glances at Oswald’s feet.

Oswald tears up listening to her.

Now I see the real you. I was blind to your manipulations – but I will correct that mistake

Oswald apparently has decided on a very specific person to take revenge for him, the Dentist – a tall, thin man who appears in the doorway.

Jim is visiting Pyg at Arkham. Pyg is pleased his ‘little scuffle’ brought Jim along. Jim, though, says that he wants to know who Pyg really is

Don't you know, Jim? I’m a reflection of you

Jim, being almost comedically unreflective, doesn’t get this, and punches Pyg in the face instead. One of the plates shifts. Jim asks him who is hiding behind the mask. Pyg tells him what he sees is what he gets. Jim brushes past this – telling Pyg he craves attention, so why not take credit?

Pyg smirks that the whole town is crazy for him – but Jim tells him he’s yesterday’s news, a second-class psychopath. Jerome, Fish, Oswald – now they have staying power.

(An aside – Jim, you total nitwit, if you complimented Oswald like that to his face he’d probably have agreed to dismantle the Pax and take you to dinner.)

Pyg gets agitated at this. Jim says he’s already forgotten, and this is his last visit. He’ll never think about Pyg again. Pyg laughs at this, claiming it’s just mind games. I dunno – Pyg, ask Jonathan.

Jim calls the guard, telling him

We're done here

Pyg is irate

We’re not done here

He tells Pyg to have a nice life

Pyg’s accent abruptly shifts and becomes….southern. Sorry – I can’t do any better than that.

Don't you walk out on me

Jim smiles, satisfied

There you are

Back at the Narrows, Lee and Ed are visiting Samson. Lee tries to negotiate reasonably, while Ed bristles at being described as a has-been. Despite Lee’s efforts, Samson remains stubborn – he doesn’t want to negotiate, he wants to take.

Ed recommends using Grundy again, but Lee sees Samson cough blood into a handkerchief and quickly invents an illness – Narrows’ Lung – which she says she will treat in him and his people free of charge.

Samson laughs at the idea he gives a damn about his people. His laughing turns to more coughing. Lee tells him she’ll be back to negotiate in a few days with his replacement, after he’s drowned in his own blood. She and Ed turn on their heels, but Samson calls them back. Make it 30% of fight night profits and they have a deal. Ed whispers that this is too much, but Lee agrees, and tells him to come by the clinic.

The Dentist is manipulating Sofia's jaw left and right, examining her teeth, which he looks forward to seeing in his trophy case. Sofia tries to pull the ‘do you know who I am?’ trick, but the Dentist knows only too well. She’s the daughter of the man who killed his brother. He turns on his drill, and says he’ll enjoy this.

Sofia turns stone-faced again. She says it’s true her father killed his brother. She says, too, that she knows the address of the Dentist’s wife and son, and that she learned every detail of Oswald’s organisation

(An aside – either she’s outright bluffing, or a whole bunch of stuff has been happening with absolutely no hint to the viewer – which is irritating)

Sofia essentially says she knows everything about everything and has orchestrated everything that has happened. If he kills her, then his wife and son will be murdered. She leans back, smirking, and tells him to drill away.

The Dentist tells his assistant to tighten her restraints. When he leans in to do so, he murders him. Sofia tells him imperiously that he made a wise decision, and orders him to untie her.

Immediately after this, she leaves the house. However, the car door is locked, and peering inside, she sees her driver is dead. Tabitha, Barbara and Selina have shown up, and proceed to kidnap her.

At the gun shop, Sofia is tied up. Barbara wakes her up, and introduces the curiously boring girl gang. This recap is taking forever, and I care increasingly less about any of the characters in this scene, so – Barbara wanted to use Sofia as leverage over Oswald when she though he and Sofia were bffs, but now Oswald wants her dead instead. That doesn’t matter to Barbara, though, because that means Os will negotiate to get her back either way. Sofia makes more superior noises about her super awesome master plan that only worked because Oswald was suffering an unfortunate attack of ooc again.

Oswald is in his office. Martin is in his chair, and a smiling Oswald says he’ll grow into it. Martin helped him vanquish his enemy, and has a beautiful future ahead. Oswald is going to impart all his wisdom, and if Martin pays attention, all this could be his one day.

Martin shakes his head, looking unhappy. A worried Oswald asks him what’s wrong. Martin writes in his pad

I lied

Agitated, Oswald asks what he means – did he not see kissing? Martin did see kissing, but Sofia wanted him to report this back to Oswald. Oswald is confused for a moment, but then twigs. She knew how he would respond and wanted this confrontation.

(An aside – does that mean the whole affair with Jim was just part of her plan?)

Victor enters the room and tell Oswald they have a problem. The dentist has gone – whereabouts unclear, and now Barbara has Sofia.

Oswald yells in temper – asking how Victor knows this.

Hilariously, Victor pulls an exaggerated scandalised shush face, and tells him he knows because Barbara is

On. The. Phone

Barbara and Oswald talk. She has Sofia – but will exchange her in return for the gun shop and complete autonomy. When did that become so important to her? Didn’t seem to be an issue when she worked for Ra’s.

Oswald agrees to this, and says he’ll send Victor over to collect her. Victor smiles. Oh my.

Martin looks nervous, and Oswald irritably tells him that their conversation is not over. This poor child.

Lucius and Jim have a new sketch of Pyg. Jim tells Lucius to start the search in the South.

(An aside - All of it? Isn’t it quite big?)

Lucius suggests that Pyg was faking, but Jim is certain it was a slip-up.

(Another aside – Probably not a coincidence that we learn Pyg is from the south in the same episode where Oswald clearly reminds everyone that Jim took a trip south before Sofia’s arrival)

Walking to the clinic, Ed asks Lee why not just let Samson die. Lee says Narrows’ Lung is made up – he just has bronchitis. Her smile fades when she opens the door, and sees the clinic trashed. Ed tells her this is the kind of person they’re dealing with. No more diplomacy – she should take Butch and end this.

Lee refuses – she’s got a better idea.

Back at the gun shop – Sofia says this is too easy. Oswald couldn’t wait to get off the phone, so they need to get out of here. She tells them she’ll give them everything they want when she’s in power, but Tabitha bridles at Sofia’s assumption of being in charge. Selina, meanwhile, has spotted Victor in front of the shop with a rocket launcher.

Outside, Victor shoots, and then grins widely.

(An aside, would you shoot that right beside your ear?)

We see that Tabitha, Barbara, Selina and Sofia have escaped through the back door. Barbara snarls that she’ll break Oswald’s little beak in half. After what Barbara pulled last season, I’d say she had it coming.

Sofia runs into GCPD, face all smeared with soot and tears.

Jim!

She turns on serious crocodile tears. She underestimated Oswald, and now he’s tried to kill her! She tells Jim he won’t stop until she’s dead and he needs to

Use the position I gave you and end this

Jim has an army, she points out. He should take the fight to Oswald.

Light finally fucking dawns on Jim’s face. This was her plan all along. She never had the numbers to start a war, so she schemed to set them against each other – make Jim captain and send him to take Oswald out.

Sofia says his job is to stop criminals, and that’s what he’d be doing.

Jim says it’s not that simple. It never is with Oswald, eh Jim?

Sofia says they can bring law and order back – this is what he wanted, and it’s his for the taking. He needs to crush Oswald.

At the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald is telling Martin he betrayed him. Martin writes in his pad.

She used me. I'm so sorry

Oswald wonders aloud about sending him back to the orphanage, which is a shitty thing to do, Oswald, so stop it.

Victor returns, but before he can speak, Oswald dismisses the little spy from the room. A tearful Martin leaves, and an incredulous Victor watches him go.

He tells Oswald the place went up in flames. Oswald grins, and tells Victor they are going to unleash a crimewave like the city has never seen to teach Jim a lesson for cheating on him with another gangster aligning with Sofia Falcone. Victor gives Oswald a hilariously smitten smile.

I wouldn't make that call

Jim is here. He tells Oswald he spoke with a very alive Sofia. Oswald says he has witnesses as to his whereabouts. Jim says he’s not there to arrest him. They’ve both put up with Sofia long enough. Oswald knows when it’s time for some sexually-charged antagonism and bargaining, and asks Victor to give them a moment.

Oswald sighs wearily and tells Jim he has his attention. Jim says that Sofia deliberately put them on the path to war, and will let the city burn to the ground to prove herself to her father. He can’t allow that.

Oswald asks what he wants from him. Jim says he’ll put her on a train, and he doesn’t want Oswald involved. Oswald wants her to suffer, though, and laughs incredulously at Jim’s notion that she’ll meekly accept this betrayal and go home.

Jim says if she returns to the city, he’ll jail her. If Oswald refuses, Jim will use GCPD to tear him apart piece by piece

(An aside – GCPD is Jim’s personal grudge squad, apparently)

Oswald says that doesn’t sound pleasant, and he is willing to put aside personal feelings for the good of city, but

Where does that leave us?

(An aside - the shippy stuff just kind of writes itself)

Jim says there can be no more licenses - but he won’t have to worry about Sofia. He holds out his hand. Oswald looks down at it and smiles. He says it’s good to know, after all they’ve been through that they can resolve this diplomatically.

Jim gives him a smile which can best be described as flirty, and leaves.

Back on Samson’s turf. He mocks Lee’s Narrows’ Lung ruse. Lee tells him she wants him out of the Narrows by the end of the day – Ed backs her up. Samson says they’ve dug own graves. Lee claims to have had Samson’s drinks poisoned, and claims to have the antidote. He caves fairly fast, and she tosses him the antidote.

Jim and Sofia at GCPD. Jim says he’s doing this to protect Sofia. She tells him not to pin this on Oswald – if he’s got something to say he should say it. She kisses him, and tearfully tells him they’re the same, she saw it the moment they met.

(Lord – this shtick again from one of Jim’s love interests)

They both want power, she says, but it’s easier to send her away than confront that. Jim draws the scene to a brusque close by cuffing her, telling Harper to take Miss Falcone to the train station.

A fairly relaxed Oswald drinks at the bar of the Iceberg Lounge. Victor says that Jim did indeed put Sofia in a train, and Oswald amiably remarks

Talk about a turn of events - I didn't see that coming

(An aside – seriously, this is all so domestic. What did he need Sofia’s friendship for again?)

Victor asks if Martin is to be sent back to the orphanage. Oswald has the good grace to look regretful, at least, and says that won’t be necessary.

He walks through to his office and begins to apologise before seeing that Martin is gone. A note of panic slips into his voice, and his eyes widen when we see Martin has left a picture illustrating a kidnapping, at which he panics in earnest.

Martin is shoved into a car by Selina.

(Hey – remember when Selina was an individual with her own unique moral code, and who would likely never have considered this? That was good, wasn’t it?)

Barbara comments that Martin is cute. Selina says he doesn’t talk. Tabitha says he gives her the creeps. Tabitha, being someone who liked to listen to a confused Gertrud crying and begging to see her son, is quite the authority on creepy.

Sofia is on a train with Harper, who tells her to get comfy. We hear tickets please, but it’s not a conductor, but Victor. Hot, hot Victor.

He knocks Harper out and asks Sofia where the boy is. She smirks, and tells him he’s alive, and if Oswald wants to keep things that way, he’ll meet her at Crown Bridge in an hour. Victor shoots her cuffs off.

(An aside, that’s the second child Sofia has threatened to murder in this episode alone. She also does not seem give a tuppenny fuck at the thought of abandoning her orphanage)

Everyone is under the bridge. Sofia is using Martin as a bargaining chip. Barbara, Tabitha and Selina – standing alongside her – are tacitly OK with this.

Oswald promises martin everything will be alright. Sofia says if he hands over control, then she’ll let Martin keep his head. Oswald says the Falcone name meant something once, and her father would be disgusted by her actions. Sofia snaps back that her father would be proud.

Oswald smiles, sensing a raw nerve, and possibly remembering what Jim said earlier. He tells her it must be hard, living her whole life trying to get daddy’s approval.

Sofia’s face twitches, and we see he’s hit home.

I myself can’t relate, seeing as my parents loved me without condition

(That was downright beautiful, Oswald. Drag her.)

Sofia’s temper has flared.

Say one more word and I will kill him and execute you. I am choosing compassion but I am willing to change my position.

Oswald tells her not to kill the boy – he’s innocent.

Barbara smirks.

(Remember when Barbara used be halfway likeable too?)

Oswald says he submits. Sofia releases Martin, who heads straight to Oswald. Oswald tells Martin he's sorry for what said earlier: he does really care about him. A tearful Martin nods, and Oswald sends him to wait in the car.

Looking over at Tabitha, Victor does a tear down the face motion.

Martin gets in the car as Sofia watches. Oswald looks at her.

You were wise to use the boy, as you know – my heart is my greatest weakness. But I will not allow him to be used as a pawn in your game.

Lifting his hand, he presses a button on a remote device, and the car explodes.

Oswald’s men start shooting, and Barbara retaliates. Oswald screams at Sofia

You wanted a war, you got one!

(God - Victor’s shooting stance.)

At Cherry’s Place, Lee asks Ed why he’s so blue. He feels useless – he’s not a sidekick, but Samson is right, he’s a has-been. Lee says that since he trusted her, she’s going to trust him with something. There’s nothing wrong with Ed’s brain – his ability to guess Samson’s actions proved that. The block is psychological.

Ed asks how she could have lied to him – looking genuinely hurt. She says that she was afraid he would simply go back to being the Riddler, and she likes who he’s become – who he used to be: Ed Nygma, her friend. Ed looks touched.

Sofia, Tabitha, Selina and Barbara trudge sulkily into Sofia’s mansion. She wants to hit Oswald again. Selina says she lost. Sofia is still scheming aloud – and Barbara comments acidly that she probably didn’t get told ‘no’ a lot as a kid, and reiterates that she lost her shot.

Sofia says she’s not done, and she’ll cut them in – telling them they need here. Oswald might have won the battle, but she’ll win the war.

At the Iceberg Lounge, we see Oswald alone, looking thoughtful.

Boss

Victor is there with Martin, who - of course – is not dead.

My boy - you did a splendid job of dying

There was an escape hatch in the car.

Oswald tells Martin that Victor will take him to a safe location, and he can never return

Martin shakes his head, and writes in his pad

I don't want to leave you

A tearful Oswald comforts him

There there. This is what I have to do to protect you. You’ll understand when you’re older.

Martin steps forward and hugs him tightly. Oswald hugs back.

Victor is impatient and wants to finish Sofia now, while they have the advantage - but Oswald wants his top man to take Martin to safety. Victor has a mini internal conflict over the desire to go do some killing, and puffing his chest a little at being described as Oswald’s top man.

Besides, Oswald remarks, he has a better plan for her.

At GCPD, Lucius says Pyg was known as Lazlo Valentine down south. His crimes were also very different. Jim says serial killers don’t change MO. Lucius then comments that he was never released but escaped.

At Arkham, walking down a dark corridor, a guard walks towards Pyg’s cell – where we can hear strange noises. As he enters, he sees the cell is empty, before a noose drops round his neck from above the door, and we see him hanged.

Somewhere in Cherry’s club, Ed washes his face. When he glances back up at the mirror, we see his Riddler persona, behaving much like Bad Ed used to. Ed seems dismayed to see that he’s back – angrily calling out

No!

Back at Arkham again with Jim – who finds Pyg’s cell empty and the guard dead. There’s a message on the wall

It's been fun, James – Lazlo.

General Observations

It’s hard to say too much, since there’s obviously a lot to be continued next week. Some temporary thoughts, then.

I will be surprised and confused if it’s not revealed that Pyg was put in place by Sofia, all part of the same plan to unsettle Oswald and bloat Jim’s ego.

Jim rattled on about sociopaths this week. If anyone showed a much darker side to herself this week, it was Sofia – blithely willing to murder two children to further her plans, faking tears to manipulate, and dropping into a stone face when found out. If she’s behind Pyg, then she effectively ordered the slow, painful deaths of several cops – including Harvey. I still think we might find something out about her next week - maybe from Carmine.

I am so bored by the Sirens. So bored.

Sofia learned a lesson that others have learned before her, Jim will flip his loyalties/attentions back to Oswald when pressed. How long, you have to wonder, did it take him to edit her out of the picture after he got the captaincy? He just about tells Oswald she’s a third wheel that neither of them needs to be bothered with. Fickle, fickle Jim.

We again have a situation where our main villain – Jim openly recognises how dangerous Oswald is – is more sympathetic than just about anyone else. Sofia’s a poor creature – all dead eyes and a desperation to please daddy. Jim is…well, Jim. The Sirens are all smirks and catsuits. Oswald does terrible things – but again demonstrated a selflessness that we don’t really see elsewhere. He loves Martin, and he’s desperate for companionship – but he’ll send him away to keep him safe.

Poor Lee is destined for disappointment with the return of Bad Ed/Riddler.

Victor.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #things that go boom #gotham s4e10

22 notes · View notes

namelesswolffreak · 7 years

Text

Victuuri Prince AU

"Yuuri!? Yuuuuuri!~ My love!" Giggles echoed through the gardens and the white haired prince egarly followed them. He smiled and quickened his pace knowing well of his betrothed's laughter. A sweet symphony mixed in honey and sugar that could sooth even the most temperamental of furies. The sound always brought a smile to his face, a swelling feeling in his heart and a light blush to his cheeks. And he loved the way Yuuri's eyes would sparkle, even in the dark they could light up a room and when he smiled? Oh, Victor couldn't even begin to start with the thoughts that raced through his mind at his lovely's smiles. The crown prince loved that sound and that sparkle so much he made it a point to commit them both to memory and never forget even the tiniest of details. He promised to never ever to forget them anytime soon. His black boots clacked along the brick road in his parents garden and the bright mirth in his eyes as he heard the laughter grow stronger never left him. "Yuuri, my dear!!! I'm almost there!" He called. The giggling grew quiet and low. The once high and bubbly spirit of the atmosphere turned sour and foreboding. The prince's steps grew slower and more strategical as he approached with caution to the other end of the huge garden. He beard the unmistakable sound of splashing water and the low hum of a song as he rounded the high hedge keeping him from seeing his fiance. On approaching he took hold of it and peered around the corner and in his great relief Yuuri wasn't dead or at least about to be. The black haired Japanese was relaxing underneath the huge waterfall of the hot spring his parents had invested in a year or two ago when he stubbornly and forcefully"asked" his Mother and Father to give him a place to relax after his fencing classes. He hadn't meant to one: Sound like a spoiled brat and as disrespectful as he had been and two: Get a place so big it ran for almost miles, but it got him what he needed and he guessed that was alright. (Though next time he promised he'd slap himself if he was ever that rude to his elders again, especially the currently ruling King and Queen who were his parents of all people.) He was glad to see the normally empty waste of space be put to use by someone other than him and Chris for once. Victor happily skipped over once he tore his shaking hand away from the ball point of his scabbard where his sword laid sheathed and took in the view before him. The lovely, gorgeous and quite frankly alluring scene, according to Victor. His fiance soaked bare chested in the steam of the hot spring with his black hair casually brushed back and chocolate brown eyes covered by the soft skin on his arm as he lilted back into the stream of water coursing down his sculpted chest. Victor drank in the sight pleasantly and couldn't help the adoring stare and sinful sigh he gave the relaxed beauty. "Vitenka, are you here yet? I've been waiting forever! Prince's shouldn't keep their fiances waiting, it's considered rude in my home lands!" He giggled childishly at the mock reprimand Yuuri gave and began slipping off small amounts of clothes and fabric. He gladly tore off his shoes, tossing them off to the side along with his socks, over vest, jewelry and other princely things that most commoners saw him in daily, slipping them off would be considered unruly and even barbaric in public, but Victor thought under this circumstance it was alright. His tight briefs were the only piece of clothing to remain on besides the casual white undershirt that normally accompanied the other layers he wore underneath his pink suit. He slowly slid over the rocky edge of the spring, dipping only his feet into the warmth and his eyes were immediately drawn back to his soon to be as he watched him gracefully glide through the water to greet him. Yuuri's muscles flexed and stretched as he pushed through the water making Victor subconsciously lick his lips at the display of power and strength. "Yuuri, my love." He giggled, taking Yuuri's chin in one hand and pecking his lips. "Why the sudden meeting? I was in the middle of teaching my classes." The latter blushed and repeated the action, looking downwards afterwards. "I'm sorry, Vitya, but I had to call you now." A suspicion rose within Victors chest as he observed the obvious show of embarrassment on his lovers face. "But if you were busy it can wai-" "N-no! Whatever ails you, my Prince?" "Ummm......I....." He heard Yuuri mumble something before the ravenette turned back to him with pleading clear in his eyes. "I was wondering if you'd like to spend the day with me.....umm...in the hot springs.....alone?" A bright flush crossed his features as he noticed Yuuri's complete lack of clothing. He wasn't even wearing any undergarments to cover his hips. Oh... Victor flushed harder and smirked. "Yuuri~" He purred. "Is there something you want to tell me?" His mirth grew as he caught both his fiancé's hands in his and pulled his body out of the water with all his strength. Yuuri now sat kneeled over the others lap, legs spread wide, cock visibly hard and flushed between his thick thighs and the biggest blush mankind has ever witnessed adorning his cheeks. Yuuri didn't think it could grow any bigger, but he was instantly proved wrong when he was pulled close to the prince's chest in a loving hug and Victors breath hit his ears hard as he whispered. "I'd be very upset if that present wasn't for me. You wouldn't do that to your poor, innocent Vitenka now would you? Shamelessly getting hard over another man other than me? Ha, ha, ha. How sinful, my Yuratchka~" The rumble of Victors chest sent a chilling thrill down his spine like an electric spark had struck his heart and jumpstarted it. He liked this feeling very much and would be perfectly willing to die over never having it leave him again. He felt his tongue smooth over his chapped lips and inched closer in hopes of letting Victor in on the amazing feeling as well. "Vitya, now why would I ever do that when I have the hottest prince in all the land all to myself and no one can ever take him away from me?"He felt the man shiver and he smirked. His plan proved successful. "Oh how sexy can you be, my love? You've already seduced me, now you're just inflating my ego." He yelped when he felt something hot and slimy climb up his ear and a loud hum invade it afterwards. "Yuuri, you have no idea what you do to me. You shouldn't do this to me when I'm like this." Victor shivered even more when he purposely pulled Yuuri back by his hair to look into his brown eyes that had turned into the size of dinner plates. They sparkled with want and anticipation or was that need....perhaps anxiety. He absolutely loved it regardless of its definition and couldn't hold back the sloppy, but nonetheless romantic kiss. "V-Vitya!" "You're so adorable, love. Let me have you?" He thumbed delicately over Yuuri's lips, his own emotion showing true in his iris as the latter lost the ability to breath, suffocating under his lovers touch and wishing desperately for Victor to relieve the burning ache that had settled itself South of his thumping heart. His wish was granted as he screwed his eyes shut and let the ecstasy take his mind and body whole as he felt ice cold hands slide up the base of cock and cup his already dripping head. Yuuri's breathing quickened, his heartbeat uncontrollable and mind sent whirling as his fiance stroked, prodded and pulled, all gently, but firm actions of love causing him to writher and squirm in his hold. "V-Victor! Ah-huh-ooo!~" He gasped. "Yuuri you look so beautiful like this." He cooed and quickened his pace feeling Yuuri swell in his hand, beginning to get uncomfortable I his own pants the more he watched the wrecked face of this sexy Japanese. It made his heart swell again to know he, Victor Nikiforov and only him could make Yuuri this wasted in such a short amount of time. He was the only one who could make Yuuri bend before him like a commoner on the streets, he was the only one who knew Yuuri's weakest spots to make him moan the loudest and sweetest sounds, he was the only person Yuuri shared his love with and no one and no thing could change these facts. He was the only man capable of taming Yuuri's Eros and that's all that mattered to him. Yuuri could feel the pressure between his legs blowing up the faster Victor stroked his base and groaned along with him. Soon, close to his pre-destined orgasm he felt the Russian princes saliva slick lips collide with his and gingerly suck his tongue with fervor. "V-Vitya! I-I'm gonna come, if you do-" The weird sensation of both warmth and cold was enough to bring Yuuri over the edge. Hot, red and white flashes blurred his vision as Victors strides lessened and his cum soaked hand was being deliciously licked clean. Yuuri watched excitedly, white strings of semen bursting from his clit onto both his and Victor's chests and what didn't slid down Yuuri's angered thighs. His fiance looked absolutely gorgeous just lapping up his mess, but then again Victor looked gorgeous doing anything. He could be shoveling manure and Yuuri would still find him the most attractive prince in the world.....ok well maybe not really, but he loved Victor nonetheless. Yuuri's high quickly evaporated and reality was once again a reoccurring thing in his mind. He was ready to just snuggle happily in his companions arms, but leaning in closer and resting a hand close to his thigh a heated blush jumped to attention on his face and he immediately retracted his wandering hand. How had he been so selfish at that moment. "Oh....Vitya, do you want me to take care of that? You deserve some release too. Its the least I can do, you've been working so hard and your schedule has been nothing short of hectic! Let me-" "No, no Yuuri its fine. I'll be alright, no need to fret. I can always handle it later." He winked and the latter blushed, sinking back into the hot bath, starting to shiver from the cold breeze. "Alright, Vitenka, but you have to promise tonight that you indulge yourself! You're overworking yourself again and you know it hurts my heart when you won't let yourself take a break. One of these days you're going to hurt yourself and I wont be around to help you." He stabbed a finger into Victors chest, angry, but an obvious, loving undertone let the Russian smile with reassurance Yuuri really did care for his wellbeing. "Alright, until tonight my Love." "Until Sunrise shall you feel the power of my love for you." He only giggled and held the warm body close to him not caring about getting wet or the uncomfortable squish sounds erupting between them. Victors heart swelled once more as Yuuri reciprocated the hug. "I love you~" "I love you too, Vitya."

#Victuuri PrinceAU YuriOnIce

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jewelwriter · 5 years

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How a Card Gamer could make a Pokemon Game

[Inspired by Mr. Buddy.]

Warning: The following is from the mentality of one soul and as such it is to be considered as such, the idea of ONE being. If you have your own or have positive or negative commentary of said writing please be sure you are aware of what the topic is about and be respectful of the forum that this is written on. Thank you so very much.

Pokemon has a lot of games under their belt and yet it all stems from the same market. It's got ups and downs and games we wish were not existing. But here's a question to think of... what kind of game would we want of it?

Salutations Boys and Girls of ALL ages. I am Jewelwriter Eli Moonstar and I would like to welcome you to my game idea.

I'll explain the concept of my game and then explain the idea of how to gain Pokemon, how the story works, Key-points, and how it could link to other Pokemon games and maybe help with getting Pokemon that would not be accessible and in a way be a good way to help someone get a Pokemon that would not be locked behind limited and non interactive events and such and finally multiplayer to play against other players. If you like this or don't let me know down below.

If you got some commentary of this let me know but now it's time to go onto the show.

I'll explain the game idea and story at the same time as this: Pokemon in this game were forged into cards but there's been someone altering the timeline and history of Pokemon in general. That each Region is starting to get altered timelines and you are asked by newly introduced Professors of Power named Miles and Millie (they would break the traditional trope of trees but I would hope this would be a game of its own that is special.) as you get to met Millie Power, co-inventor of the Pokeball Cardian System. The system that has taken the world of Pokemon and while it is able to make it easier to carry, it makes Pokemon a bit more forward. Though also there are trainers that will battle with these cards and go to battle you and others. But we are getting a little ahead. Let's show how it works as you are called forth of the Lab of the Power Twins where we find Millie as she was setting up a deck for the new player.

"Welcome. I'm Professor Millie Power. And yes I'm a good bit young to be a professor but I worked hard to be here. Anyhow, I'm sorry that I gotta ask you a few things. It's per regulations so if this is annoying let me know." To which she goes into a clipboard to reading out what is a standard. Are you a Male or Female player. Name. Pick your tone of a character. Which kind of prize do you want usually from winning? And then finally, what letter do you care for: G, R, B, or Y? Based on the stuff given you'll get a basic trainer's ID that seems like it was from the Kalos Pokemon Search System and yet it can be detailed with all sorts of designs. And then you receive a Duelist Set and an Instruction guide.

It'd be here you'll learn of the game you'd play and can get asked if you care for a training duel. The way to play this game is a hybrid of games. If you've played the game Triple Triad then this game will be most familiar to players though there is an energy system that will use the powers of the Pokemon in play. I do get into a more in-depth rundown but I want to go on from here. It'll then explain the three systems of how one gets to have as far as obtaining a victory.

Players will find the 'victory system' allows a player to always gain something based on the system they care to do. If they pick the currency victory, you'll gain currency (Pokedollars) for how many cards are in the opposing deck after the battle ends plus a bit of a bonus depending on if you win or lose (winning will give you a baseline based on if it's a wild battle or not). If you care to gain more cards then you'll go with the KOed victory where the Pokemon you KO in the battle are the Pokemon you gain from the duel instead of the currency which can lead to getting a lot of Pokemon desired provided they are in the KO'ed area. Finally, the Mixed Victory where you can pick a card from the deck that has yet to be used and afterward you gain the currency equal to the cards remaining minus the card taken. All three has an advantage and disadvantage of sorts so pick which one you'd want. For defeats, you'll only gain as much currency as the number of cards in the deck that goes on...well in single player. We'll explain what will happen when it goes multiplayer later on.

After that question (or the duel) She'll ask which region you care to go for first: Johto or Kanto Region? Either way,$ you can begin from there as you get warped there.

From there, you get to note a few things. For one, a simple town is a bit of a town hub that kind of goes as follows: The house you start in is your customize area that you can look over how your design can be. A hub location with a Pokeball Icon that it is closed for a while. This will open up at a later date. And then finally, a route Sign which allows you to head down a certain path. You'll then head down that route and can either trigger a battle with the wild Pokemon or if you find a trainer icon, battle the local that is there with your deck. Going through the Grass will have at the least 1 battle with the Pokemon of that area. Then through each Town and Route, you'll have each of the following things.

A Pokemon Center will allow people to interact and play with other players that will allow you to also edit your decks. More on this later on...the multiplayer part.

A Pokemart will be allowing you to get to see if a card is up that you'd want for your deck or if one cares for it getting a booster pack of 7 cards based on the region you are in. (In Kanto and Johto's chase the selection will be from both regions instead) And for selling cards, you can trade those in to get a little bit of currency.

If there's a mall or shopping center, this is where you can find customization choices to decorate your character or your trainer card or even give a little flair to your card backings. (There will be one of these in Unova in a Route so keep it in mind.)

As you go through the areas you see some people who seem to be odd colored and with weird glowing eyes. They seemed to take over the gym leaders an, in turn, trying to control the story of that area. Defeating these trainers will release the true trainer that is meant to be there. Brock (or Faulkner) will explain that a group known as Team C.D. is trying to edit history due to an event that happened in their home region. Though considering they spread to other regions already they suspect that it's already in progress and are taking what they can.

As you progress you'll gain false badges which allow certain access abilities such as spending your currency or discard a card that you got an extra of to do certain events on a route like using flash to reveal a route's obstacles, cutting a tree to access an extra zone, or moving boulders or go through a water alternate route where water specific Pokemon get to be more often to appear or take to the sky where you'll run into flying types only during the trip from one area to another. This will happen often while you have these badges.

From there you take down each False Gym Leader as you get told by either Morty's False Gym Leader or Sabrina's False Gym Leader that a researcher of sorts was trying to disable their decks but found out their leader wasn't among their ranks took off after snagging cards of theirs but will try to snag your cards in exchange. After clearing either of these two they'll tell you that the Professors Elm and Oak are captured at Indigo Plateau, and to get to it you'll need to beat the Gym Leaders to proceed and by that they mean the real Gym Leaders since Team C.D. were corrupting the area. When you get the True badges of the league, you'll be able to use the badge abilities for free which can save a lot of frustration and means you'll have to revisit each gym leader to clear up a badge's requirements.

Once you got the eight true badges you'll be able to enter Indigo Plateau and take on the False Elite Four and Champion. These trainers will be based on the Generation 2 version of the Elite 4 and Champion. Like the real Elite Four, you aren't getting out of the area until you are either a victor or the fallen as you take on each of the fighters. Though to ease up on losing a lot (it is a tall order to win 5 battles in a row of course especially with certain decks.) if you beat the opponent twice leading up to the member, even if you lose along the way the opponent will allow you to go on through, knowing your determination will not fault. Once the Champion is dethroned the professors will be freed from being hostage.

"Ahh, thank you young one. It's a sad day that you had to see the best of the best mocked by such criminal alliances." Professor Oak says as he laments about the events that brought you two together.

"It'll be Ok Professor Oak. Besides, we got work to do still and so does our hero. Since there's another region they took over." Professor Elm.

"Your right," Oak said before he turns to you. Depending on which region you liberated, The two will either head back to Pallet Town or New Bark Town while they ask you a favor to take on the other region. You'll get a ticket to the SS Aqua where you can go to either Vermillion City or Olivine City and ride to the other region. On the way, you hear of the weird story of what's going on because of a weird red and purple thunderbolt that hit either the Lighthouse or the Vacant lot which trouble seemed to have started from there. It's clear that there's a special event that is there and you can try to fix up the mess there. (If it's the Lighthouse, you are in for a lot of fights before finding the gateway and a special card that might come into play. If it's the vacant lot you'll see a guy with a special card instead.)

Afterward, you get to clean up the entire region and obtain the badges again. Though it is after you get the last gym cleaned up from Team C.D.'s work an S.O.S. message is sent to you and the location is at Mt Silver. The only way you can access it is by having all 16 purified badges. When you do get there you can hear a large battle going off up high. Climbing up the mountain allows you to see a scientist that looked glad to see you and had to keep near you as you have to admit a brain keeping two criminals at bay is impressive, especially with what looks like an admin of Team C.D. who has to grin.

"Professor Power, It's good to see you are not just a researcher but a battler and took me to a draw. But I think it'll not be good fortune for you to win twice. Though it looks like someone came to lighten your load. You there. Tell me your name. Why? I want to remember the supposed hero that tries to get in my way...and failed!" He does go down after a good bit and he growls out.

"Sodan, report! Has the professor been captured? We need to capture Miles Power!" You hear a voice that was from an electronic device, which Sodan, the supposed commander picks up as he turned to speak up.

"Sodan here. Sorry, but he repelled me enough to escape. I need transport back to base asap." After a bit, a Warp to another world appeared as Sodan walked to the gate as he spoke up. "This'll not be taken lightly, player. Wait until we get back at you." With that Sodan is walking off you soon face Professor Miles Power.

"Thank you so much player for coming for me a bit." He said before speaking up. "I got to get some research done and knowing Millie, she got a project almost done. If it works, well...it'll be a blessing to all of Pokemon kind." He said before he takes off to try to get back to the lab. And from here on you are able to replay all routes and areas and re-battle all the trainers in the region of Kanto and Johto until you go back to the labs.

When you do (by returning to the home town.) you'll be allowed to help the twins with their lab works with the key one that's important is Project Arceus Where he asks you to get 1 Pokemon card of each type and give that data to the professor of the region for research that is when that specific researcher is free. Pokemon with two types can help out a lot in this case. In doing this you'll be granted the power to visit each professor of any region (Provided you did the Project Arceus quest for it.) and in exchange for 10 of the exact same card you can get 1 Pokemon sent to a real Pokemon game with stat's mixed up at random but will promise 1 stat is at the highest it can be which is 31 but one stat will be at 0.

After a day of rest, you can go to another region to try to clear out Team C.D. who has invaded other regions to do the same thing as you did in the beginning regions. This will go more in depth of what Team C.D means as all the regions get explored and their Gym leaders saved along with finding out details of their land as well as start facing off against more of the weird cards that they keep using from time to time as they seem to alter history of the games that were of the history of Pokemon. Though you'll be joined by Millie when going to Sinnoh. It'll be explained after a bit.

For an example and to clear up what would happen with certain abnormalities, the Alolan region the Totems and the Kahunas will be replaced by Team C.D. members who are also recruiting Team Skull members to cause havoc and try to draw in the negative power of Pokemon, with you being their counter will not only get Z-Crystal Cards but will also free the Totem and/or Kahuna from the area. And while it isn't as intended, after taking out the Team C.D. member taking over the Trial of the Ghost totem, you can pick which one to do first in taking out the Team C.D. member that is operating in Team Skull or the one that took over the Kakuna's place though you'll need to do both to go onwards.

After all the trials Team C.D. are gone Millie has a request for you but only if you think that you can do it. It's to take down Team C.D.'s headquarters that is located in the desert region of Orre with your starting point being the Pokemon HQ Laboratory. This region that has been the source of the troubles in the Power Twins eyes and the reason why is because they were able to ensnare their prized Pokemon XD-001, aka Shadow Lugia and escaped with it to where they can. This is also the region where the trainers from every which direction will be all using these special Shadow Pokemon variants of cards.

It's during this time is when you find out what Millie was doing with you during her time with you at times she wasn't with you in some of the cities. She was trying to use places to heal and make the card a purified card. And when battling Cyrus and the Team C.D. administrator, the time where Millie battles with you picking whom to take on, the other won and obtained a card from her deck.

If you took on Cyrus, the Admin will smirk after his defeat and show off a card back as he leaves without a word. If you took on the admin, After you take down Cyrus, it's shown that his cards are scattered and one of them was shown to be XD-001. Picking it up, the card, we see the villain show off with his back showing while showing off the card, giving a smirk. "Laters." the admin said while making his leave. It's when you are battling Realgam Tower is where you'll take on that same admin that obtained XD-001. You gain not only the cards you obtain from either KO'ed or Mixed Victory but you'll obtain XD-001.

The battles will eventually take you to the final location: Citadark Island. There you have to take down the master mines of the organization C.D. and two of them are the most hardhearted villains of Pokemon history: Ardos and Ghetsis along with a special character made for this game. For the sake of this Alpha Void who organized the plan and helped the other two with the aspect of dimensional alterations. Each of the 3 has had enough of you...but in a twist, of each other and you the player end up in Battle Royal game in which you will lose if you come in second or lower. After such a ride of a four-way battle and you come out the winner you'll be thanked with a play-set of a legendary and mythical Pokemon of your choice and unlocking the ability to being able to be obtained in special locations in wild battles (AS well as any victory condition cards gained from your preferred victory setting). Be aware that they won't always show up but there's a chance that they will.

Now we get into the Multiplayer part. The part that has other people with their own decks trying to battle and win against you. Be sure your settings are on point since now you can wager cards or not depending on your victory condition. I'll repeat this to be precise: Be aware that if you play with other characters that you'll have to set up which victory style you want to battle in and be aware that you might end up taking in the effects you ask for. Meaning you have to be ready to wager cards if you are playing with the KO or Mixed victory system. Instead of the Pokemon Currency, you'll receive victory coins. You can trade in victory coins for hosting 4 player battle Royals, get exclusive decorative stuff, and partake in tournaments that can range from 10 to 100 victory coins with prizes on the line [though they will say which kind of victory condition is per tournament so you can go in knowing the risks.] to make partaking in the tournaments reasonable as far as entering goes.

And that...ladies and gentlemen of all ages...is how I would make my own Pokemon game. Sure it would be a lengthy one but then again I never said if we are going visually intensive with this game or not or even what could be a game return of sprites and art editing. That detail is up to others but then again this is from someone that has been playing and even developing her own card games for years. What would you think? This is likely going to be thrown out the door but still, it's got something.

Let me know down below.

Now as for me... this wild one runs away.

#ideas #pokemon #criticism wanted

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savanahsampson · 6 years

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The failed suicide attempt

She asked me for a tissue from the crowd dancing to the music at the Health and Wellness Jamboree at school - I searched my bag and had a KFC tissue only – then handed it to her, however I noted odd behavior why was she asking me anyway I kept on chattering to a friend. She then sat near me at the registration table where I was with a co-worker and friend. She asked “Miss what time can we leave, I have a photoshoot to attend?” – my reply “lunch will be served soon but if you have to leave go – as I don’t want you to miss your photoshoot” I asked her what time the photoshoot was she said, it was at 3pm. “I enjoy modelling and I am very photogenic miss”, “of cause” you are!

I took some photographs “selfies” with her. When I turned away, to enjoy the dancing on stage, she said “miss my nose is bleeding”. I pitied her not only was she looking for conversation, it was also attention, as I saw the bloodstained tissue, I was going to tell her to tilt her head backward it was the first thing at the top my mind, but then I remembered training received by Doctor Nadia clearly stating that the person should maintain normal posture as you would be sitting upright – and just place the tissue under the nose. She remained in this posture – still reaching out to speak to me.

According to her people are saying that she is crazy in which case I told her she is not crazy. She mentioned to me, that she took an insulin shot, which was her grandmother’s. Overdosed on tablets and was cutting herself. She had so much guilt written all over her face, she was so ashamed. For a moment I felt her pain because I remembered a time when I too, wanted to committed suicide. I remembered all the books I read on Stoicism Philosophy where people ended up killing themselves because life was too depressing or they were merely just bored, also Victor Frankl and logotherapy popped into my mind. Who are we to judge? – the thought has crossed our mind some time or other in our lives when things became unbearable, or we have questioned the universe on our existence.

She asked me if I knew a colleague, who was a Health Educator at a specific school, I said yes I know her we are close “but not that close” (the registration co-worker and friend probably overheard and told her) This is the only explanation, I can come up with for the person being short off on whatsapp not that I care – if she feels differently, the girl didn’t even mind if I knew she was cutting herself- as everyone already knew) anyway I tried to encourage her told her to allow her feelings, I asked her why she had done it. Apparently she had dated a guy and he died – he had an (appendix failure) and passed away in July this year and two weeks later – she tried to commit suicide and ended up in hospital. Surprisingly I told her that the Health Educator will be attending, and her response was don’t take me to her (I wondered why – I didn’t ask as it only hit me later).

Thinking back the story I heard from the Health Educator was different she had explained to me about a girl in Grade 11 who was cutting herself, for a different reason, the reason being the girl claimed to have been a lesbian, but later had sex with a male and regretted it, and wanted to die. Somewhere along the line someone is lying. When I confronted the Health Educator via whatsapp I asked her if she knew the girl (I met), I even sent a picture, her response was very bland “cool” “ok” now I am not sure, I asked what is wrong got no response. I tried calling Health Educator got no response. I asked her if they chat via whatsapp her response was just yes, I left it at that – as I will not probe for further information.

I tried to encourage her as best I could to focus on her wellbeing. She mentioned that she started a charity, and writing a book. I said “I am proud of you keep up the good work” and hugged her.

Instantly sent my friend at registration table a whatsapp asking for help to get me out of this situation, she nugged that someone was looking for me, because it was becoming too much. Right then and there I felt it was my que to leave. I left the school as fast as I could and rushed off with a taxi to Jasen immediately, minutes before lunch was served.

As I reflect now, I feel like a coward. Before I started this job, I was convinced that I could conquer the world and save people bit by bit. It is proving to be a tremendous task – I am somewhat being drawn into the stories, somewhat taking on the burden and I am suffering silently some days because I want to at least make it to a year – gain experience and also I now have rent to pay, I cannot go back home with my tail between my legs. I recently moved out two months ago.

Despite the fear of giving up and losing it all. Almost 10 months later and I am slowly realizing that it is painful – some days you will feel gratitude when you are helping others – or are appreciated, other days you will feel as if your efforts are in vain – as if you being mocked as if people are just coming to receive an incentive as promised even though it’s a randomized selection – and the chances are slim. One moment it feels as if my words are going in the one ear out the other ear and I question everything from the why am I here? To how was this mentality of entitlement formed – or you already have nothing someone offers you help and you throw it back at them by not grabbing the opportunity in the way that I would have. I am always searching for myself when I am facilitating, I haven’t met her yet. Perhaps that is my purpose. Maybe I should look within to find me.

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Stronger - Chapter Six - There’s No Glory Without Tears (Victor’s POV)

“Stop rubbing your forehead.”

Andrea sighed and put her hand down, keeping her eyes on the screen of her laptop. It took her less than five minutes to absentmindedly bring her hand back to her forehead. Victor playfully swatted it away.

“Stop!” She wined. “For some strange reason I find this soothing, ok ay? Just leave me be. You can mock me later.”

“Are you upset?” Victor watched her closely.

“I’m nervous.” Andrea looked at him with uneasiness in her eyes. “I need to submit this to my teacher, it needs to be perfect. I can’t allow a single mistake.”

“I’ve watched you revise your thesis over and over again. If you can’t find a mistake, maybe it’s because there aren’t any.”

“Or maybe it’s because I can’t see them anymore!” Again, her hand flew to her forehead, but this time Victor let her. “I want to do this right, no, I NEED to do this right. This is something Daniel always said I could never do, and I know I shouldn’t care anymore, but I want to prove him wrong. Most importantly, I need to prove myself that he is wrong. If I screw this up… Then he’s right.”

Ignoring Andrea’s protests, Victor took the laptop from her lap and held her close, his hand steady on the back of her head.

“I’m sure it’s good, stop worrying. Relax.”

“And how would you know?” She retorted, trying to reach for her laptop. “Victor, stop being like that. Give me back my laptop, I don’t have much time.”

“I have a confession to make.” Andrea stopped, waiting for him to speak again. “You looked so worried last week that I had to take a look. To see if you needed any help.”

“You read it?” The panic made her rub her forehead even more furiously. “Oh God, how bad is it?”

“I know I went against your wishes, but maybe it was for the best. Once I started reading it, I couldn’t put it down. It’s thought-provoking, beautifully written, I couldn’t find a single mistake. And you know how demanding I can be. It’s perfect.” Victor finally took Andrea’s nervous hand, leaning his forehead on hers instead. “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you.”

Proud didn’t even begin to describe how he felt about her. Victor was exhilarated. She had done a magnificent job.

By the end of the gala everybody was trying to reach Andrea and the Dean, taking out their checkbooks to ensure their support. Companies were interested in working with her. Seasoned entrepreneurs wanted to talk to her, anxious to know her opinion about the most varied subjects.

He watched it all from his spot at the open bar, a glass of brandy in his hand, like it was his private show. No one could see from his expression, but his heart was singing. She had done it. Brilliantly. Lexi interrupted his thoughts, sitting next to him.

“Remind me to never cross you.” She joked. “You are a mastermind. It worked. They are all talking about the study, instead of gossiping about you two.”

Victor hid his smile as he brought the glass to his lips.

“Did you hear her speech? She got them hooked right from the first sentence.” He spoke, not able to hide all his enthusiasm.

“If you think Victor’s speech was boring, wait until you hear mine.” Andrea began her presentation like she owned that stage, and the entire room laughed, including himself. She was witty, dauntless. He felt his heart swell with pride again.

“You still love her, don’t you?” Lexi asked again.

“Don’t mistake my gratitude for an easy pass to discuss my private life.” Victor warned.

“But you do.” Lexie dared to say again. “You closed that door the moment you entered this room with me. You know that, right?”

That door was already closed. Andrea was already moving on with her life, filling it with joy, friends and laughter. He had seen her that other day, running with Levi. He knew that guy wouldn’t waste his time, he would try to win her. Yet, no matter how much that memory of Andrea and Levi talking and laughing made his heart pang, he felt she deserved the happiness. After all, Victor had had his chance before… Only to fail miserably.

Not that it mattered anyway, Victor concluded, that night wasn’t about him and Andrea. It was solely about him doing right by her, by helping her in any way he could. She had paid a hefty price for being with him, having her life exposed, her job in jeopardy, being insulted by his father, and he couldn’t bear that. She would not see her effort go to waste because of him. That, Victor wouldn’t tolerate. The moment he saw that magazine article, he had vowed that he wouldn’t let any of that hurt her, even if it was at his own expense. Later that day, while she cried in his arms, his determination only grew stronger.

“Do you want to leave?” Lexi asked. “I have a photoshoot, I should get some sleep. I need to look my best tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Victor said, his eyes on Andrea, letting his heart beat faster one last time. “My work here is done.”

As Victor prepared to leave, finishing his brandy in one big gulp, he heard his name in a male voice with a thick French accent.

“Victor! Trop ocupé pour parler à votre ancien professeur? (Too busy to speak to your old teacher?)” It was Guy. Victor knew he would be there, along with Xavier and Mr. Mills, but for some reason he missed them completely.

“Mais non! (Of course not!)” Victor smiled, giving Guy a friendly hug. “Comment ça va? (How are you?)”

“Ça va, mais nous parlerons plus tard. Allez, portons un toast! L'équipe de rêve! (Yes, but we’ll talk later! Come, let’s make a toast. The dream team!)” Guy tried to drag Victor with him.

“I was about to leave, actually. Drink on my behalf!” Victor excused himself, turning to Lexi again. But Lexi stopped him.

“Go ahead, go be with your friends. I’ll get an Uber.”

“No, we need to leave together.” Victor hushed. “They need to see us leave together.”

“Nonsense.” Lexi grabbed Victor by his neck, pecking the corner of his mouth. “This is all they need to see. Go have fun. You’ll thank me later.” She smiled at him.

Guy was behind them, scratching his head.

“My cooking lessons make you so famous with the women? Toujours avec des belles femmes? (Always with beautiful women?)” Victor shook his head, feeling his face burn a little. “Venez, idiot chanceux! (Come, you lucky idiot!)”

Guy led Victor to one of the tables. Mr. Mills was already there, having his usual cup of tea. Xavier was nowhere to be found. Victor greeted Mr. Mills with enthusiasm. It was good to see his old friend again.

“Boss!” Mr. Mills shook his hand with a wide smile. “I saw you came accompanied by a beautiful woman… Just not the woman I was expecting.”

“Xavier is not here.” He simply stated as he sat down, changing the subject.

“No, he went to find the woman of the moment.” Mr. Mills smiled. “She was very charming tonight, wasn’t she?”

Victor spotted both Xavier and Andrea coming to the table. Xavier’s hand on her waist, pushing her forward, while she tried to excuse herself out of the ordeal. Evidently, knowing Victor would be there as well, she would have no interest in coming. The thought made Victor fidget in his chair. He should’ve just driven Lexi home and call it a night.

Xavier arrived shortly with a very uncomfortable Andrea, opening his arms dramatically.

“Messieurs! I give you… Dr. Andrea Jones!”

Xavier motioned for all of them to clap. Andrea’s cheeks blushed even more.

“Ok, ok, enough!” Andrea said playfully. “If you guys are going to keep up with this nonsense, at least let me have some wine first!”

“Mais bien sur, belle Andrea! (But of course, beautiful Andrea!) French wine!” Xavier filled Andrea’s glass first, filling the others afterward. He raised his glass. “We need to make a toast! To our beautiful Andrea!”

“Wait, wait!” Andrea interrupted them. “I am grateful for the consideration, but I need to say something first. Everything that happened here today is not only a result of my hard work, but of yours as well. Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse with emotion, and Victor recognized the different shine in her eyes, indicating she was about to cry. “If not for you, for your stoic patience with the rookie here, if not for Victor…” She turned to him briefly, and a tear escaped her eyes. “Thank you for your incredible support, for a job well done, and for your friendship. This toast is for all of us!”

Victor felt his eyes prickle slightly as he raised his glass. It felt like the end of an era, old friends saying goodbye, maybe forever. He remembered those days in Paris, visiting Guy’s restaurant and Mr. Mills orchard, watching her so eager to learn and to see the results of her ideas, even though he hadn’t summoned her to work at all. He just wanted to be with her, he wanted to have a chance to tell her how he felt. He remembered how beautiful she looked, the soft moonlight gently touching her features as she admired the view at the restaurant. Victor recalled their kiss by the Eiffel Tower, the warmth of her skin and the softness of her lips, what he had told her after.

“Dummy. Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve like you do.”

It was funny, Victor had always considered that a weakness. He always believed that one must be guarded at all times, not letting any actual or potential opponent look into one’s soul, never revealing one’s position, never showing one’s hand. At first, he found it naïve of her to be so open to the world, idiotic even, considering all she had been through. A lesson that clearly remained unlearned.

As he got to know Andrea, as he observed her, it was clear to him that wasn’t the case. Andrea was an open book, not because she didn’t know better, but because she understood there is strength in owning one’s feelings. She had this incredible drive, this amazing strength and determination that made it possible for her to be who she was. She didn’t hide because she didn’t feel the need to. She was truly one to respect and admire.

They drank, bantering like old friends, giving Andrea the news of how their businesses were going. Andrea talked about her new job, how she loved to teach, and how much fun she was having doing her research. Victor drank it all like a fine wine. All of her smiles, all of her funny expressions, chuckled at each one of her jokes. Without anyone noticing, he took in every single aspect of her, giving his heart the consolation it needed, another moment with her. He had missed her badly. He would admit that. Even if just to himself.

After a while, it was time to go home. The goodbye seemed to leave a bittersweet taste in everyone’s mouths, including his. Things would never be the same again. Andrea had grown immensely and moved on. They all needed to do the same as well. He needed to do the same.

After a brief conversation with the Dean, Victor opted to leave through the back to avoid any paparazzi. As he went outside for the valet to bring his car, he spotted Andrea.

“Hiding from the paparazzi?” He asked, as he stood next to her. She sighed.

“Yeah, I had enough of that for a whole year.” She let her head fall slightly backward, like she usually did when she needed to unwind. “Where’s your date?”

Victor didn’t want to answer that question. Time was too fleeting to discuss such idle matters.

“You did very well today. Everyone was impressed with your presentation.” He gave her a soft smile of encouragement.

“It went really well.” She beamed at him. “Olive says the checks practically flew to her desk.”

There was a moment of silence, the only thing audible was Victor’s and Andrea’s deep breaths.

“I have to thank you, Victor. I have to thank you for all this.” Her voice was hoarse again, her eyes shiny. “You have been a great friend, always supporting me in every way. You are a good man with a good heart.”

Victor felt his eyes prickle again. Hopefully the darkness would conceal it. Afraid his voice would betray him, he silently gave her upper arm a soft squeeze. She continued.

“I want you to know that, despite things not working out between us, I will be forever grateful for having you in my life. You will always have a very special place in my heart.”

The hug came unexpectedly, but Victor took it. Time was fleeting, he couldn’t stop it anymore. He held her like she was the most precious thing he ever held in his life. And she was. She truly was.

Back at his apartment, Victor felt overwhelmed with emotion. Emotions that weighed heavily on him, all at once: love, pride, gratitude, sorrow, loss. His heart couldn’t possibly handle them all.

So he did the unthinkable. Sitting on his luxurious leather armchair, watching the skyline from his large window while nursing a final glass of brandy, he let himself cry.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #victor x oc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #mister love queens choice

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junker-town · 7 years

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NBA mock draft 2017: Lonzo Ball to the Lakers is destiny

LaVar Ball called his shot. Now Lonzo Ball appears on his way to the Los Angeles Lakers.

The Golden State Warriors and Cleveland Cavaliers are going to meet in the NBA Finals for the third straight year. For everyone else, the only hope that exists comes in the form of June’s NBA draft.

If you can’t win now, you might as well build for the future. Every draft class has quality players lying somewhere, and this one is no different. With a strong top 10 leading the way, this class is full of players who won’t only contribute, but will also make the league a brighter, more lively place. NBA fans will love De’Aaron Fox’s speed, Malik Monk’s flamethrower shooting ability, Lonzo Ball’s sixth sense for passing, and Markelle Fultz’s creativity off the dribble.

With the lottery complete and the Finals only a formality, it’s time to get serious about draft season. This is a fun class of players with a group of intriguing teams near the top waiting to select them. Let’s mock.

1. Boston Celtics - Markelle Fultz, G, Washington

Think of Fultz as a bigger Kyrie Irving. He’s an acrobat at the rim, he can stroke jumpers off the dribble and has no problem splitting a trap in the pick-and-roll. He also won’t be the same defensive liability Irving often is because of his size. Fultz has two inches of height, six inches of wingspan, and probably 20 pounds in weight on Kyrie at the same age. The Celtics need to hold onto this pick, draft Fultz, and benefit from employing one of the game’s next great guards for the foreseeable future.

2. Los Angeles Lakers - Lonzo Ball, PG, UCLA

LaVar Ball spoke it into existence. Magic Johnson knew it would happen. Lonzo Ball is the heavy favorite to be drafted No. 2 overall by the Los Angeles Lakers, and it feels like destiny.

There will be plenty of speculation about the Lakers potentially picking De’Aaron Fox or Josh Jackson, but Ball has a sizable edge given his local ties, “Showtime” flair, and superior three-point shooting ability. Lonzo helped transform UCLA from a sub-.500 team to one of the country’s best in just one year. It might not happen as quickly for the Lakers, but they can expect the same result eventually so long as everyone buys into their roles.

3. Philadelphia 76ers - Josh Jackson, SG, Kansas

As I wrote last week, this is where the draft gets interesting. Philadelphia will have its choice at a ton of talented players, but no one feels like a perfect fit. The more I think about it, the more it feels like Josh Jackson has to be the pick.

Jackson’s jump shooting ability is the big question mark, but he brings so much else to the table. He’s a quick-twitch athlete who can defend multiple positions, create plays for his teammates and score both in transition and as a slasher. Philly will need to find shooters at point guard and on the opposite wing. Until then, a core of Joel Embiid, Ben Simmons, and Jackson should do just fine.

4. Phoenix Suns - Jayson Tatum, SF, Duke

Tatum is gong to score in the NBA. The question is if he’ll be able to develop as a passer and playmaker to achieve his full potential as an offensive weapon.

Pairing Tatum with Devin Booker and Eric Bledsoe would give Phoenix a ton of offensive firepower. If last year’s lottery picks, Dragan Bender and Marquese Chriss, come along, Phoenix could emerge as a force in a few years.

5. Sacramento Kings - De’Aaron Fox, PG, Kentucky

Fox to the Kings at the fifth pick is the perfect storm of value, fit, and talent. He is exactly what Sacramento needs: a lightning-quick point guard who attacks opponents on both ends and projects to be the future face of the franchise. Buddy Hield’s knockdown shooting is a perfect complement to Fox’s game at the off-guard. The Kings still have a long way to go in their rebuild post-Boogie Cousins, but taking Fox with this pick would be a great start.

6. Orlando Magic - Malik Monk, SG, Kentucky

The Magic could really do anything with this pick. They could try to upgrade at point guard with Dennis Smith Jr. They could draft the player with the highest defensive upside in Jonathan Isaac. They could add shooting in the front court with Lauri Markkanen. In the end, the Magic just need star power and Monk is the chance to offer exactly that.

When Monk gets hot, he offers deep shooting range and elite athleticism. Orlando already has Mario Hezonja and Evan Fournier as options at the two, but adding another shooter and scorer never hurts. Maybe Orlando’s rebuild will end some day.

7. Minnesota Timberwolves - Jonathan Isaac, F, Florida State

It’s easy to see Isaac as this year’s Brandon Ingram: wing skills in a 6’10 frame complete with a developing three-point shot. That isn’t quite right. Ingram needs his jump shot to thrive, while Isaac uses it to complement his tremendous defensive ability. With quick feet and good length, Isaac looks like the rare four that can protect the rim and defend the perimeter. If he fully commits himself into being a great and valuable defender between Karl-Anthony Towns and Andrew Wiggins, he has the physical tools to get there. Whatever he develops offensively is just gravy.

8. New York Knicks - Frank Ntilikina, G, France

Phil Jackson has been adamant about bringing back the triangle offense, which is why the Knicks’ reported interest in Ntilikina makes a lot of sense. A point guard in the triangle needs to be big and have shooting ability, and Ntilikina checks both boxes. Still only 18 years old, the Knicks would be wise to give him plenty of time to grow into the job. Surely that will go well.

9. Dallas Mavericks - Dennis Smith Jr., PG, NC State

Smith has rare explosion for a point guard. He’s at his best attacking the defense downhill where he can get to the rim and make athletic plays at the basket. A little small and will face questions about his ability to be a natural distributor, but there won’t be many point guards stronger and faster. This draft must be stacked within the top 10 if Dennis Smith Jr. is slipping to No. 9.

10. Sacramento Kings - Lauri Markkanen, PF, Arizona

What a coup this would be for the Kings. First adding a brilliant lead guard in De’Aaron Fox, then adding a player who complements his skill set perfectly in 7-foot marksman Lauri Markannen. Markkanen is an elite shooter at 7 feet tall, one with a super quick release and range beyond the three-point line. He’s an ideal pick-and-pop partner for Fox and someone who would provide critical spacing in the front court.

11. Charlotte Hornets - Justin Jackson, SF, North Carolina

Michael Jordan must know all about Justin Jackson after he led North Carolina to back-to-back Final Four appearances, including a national title this past season. Jackson made major strides as a three-point shooter this season, but he does his best work around the basket with his floater. This would give the Hornets more lineup flexibility and a player with local connections.

12. Detroit Pistons - Donovan Mitchell, G, Louisville

The Pistons seriously considered moving Reggie Jackson last season. Mitchell isn’t a natural replacement, but he has some of the same qualities Stan Van Gundy looks for a guard. Namely: length and athleticism. Mitchell should be able to carve out a role defensively while his shooting and secondary creation ability continues to develop. Think of him as Victor Oladipo with a better handle.

13. Denver Nuggets - OG Anunoby, F, Indiana

The Nuggets’ No. 1 objective this offseason should be finding a strong defensive presence next to Nikola Jokic. That requires a power forward with great foot speed, long arms, and the ability to both defend the perimeter and protect the rim. If the Nuggets could trade up for Isaac, that would be ideal. Anunoby is the next best thing. He has the ability to defend potentially every position on the floor if he can get healthy after tearing his ACL in January. His offense remains a work in progress.

14. Miami Heat - Zach Collins, C, Gonzaga

It’s going to be fascinating to see where all of the big men in this draft land. There appears to be more supply than demand at the position in this first round. Regardless, Collins will be safe as a skilled five man who flashed some shot blocking ability as a freshman at Gonzaga. If the refs would have let him play in the national title game, the ‘Zags may have been champs.

15. Portland Trail Blazers - Jarrett Allen, C, Texas

The Blazers found a major upgrade at center when they acquired Jusuf Nurkic at mid-season. Allen would offer them a different dimension up front: faster, longer, and more projectable defensively. He didn’t make a huge impression for an 11-win Texas team as a freshman, but his physical tools are undeniable.

16. Chicago Bulls - Terrance Ferguson, SG, Adelaide (NBL)

The Bulls need athletes and shooters around Jimmy Butler. Ferguson counts as both. He reminds me of Magic guard Terrence Ferguson: great position size, a smooth shooting stroke, and explosive leaping ability, only it hasn’t all clicked yet. Ferguson would be wise to focus his gifts on the defensive end of the floor early in his career.

17. Milwaukee Bucks - Hamidou Diallo, SG, Kentucky

The Bucks like swinging for the fences in the first round and Diallo is this year’s lottery ticket. He posted the second-best vertical leap ever (44.5 inches) and has great length for a shooting guard. He essentially jumped from high school to the NBA, so he needs skill refinement, but that bet appears to have worked out OK for the Bucks with Thon Maker. Why not try it again?

18. Indiana Pacers - D.J. Wilson, F, Michigan

Wilson could be a diamond in the rough in this draft. He always had an intriguing combination of length, shooting touch, and shot blocking, but he finally put it all together during the last month of the season. He has all the tools to be the modern four the Pacers have been looking for.

19. Atlanta Hawks - Justin Patton, C, Creighton

Patton was a late bloomer who is still only scratching the surface of his potential. He has quick hands and fast feet, with a nice touch around the basket. He even drained eight of the 15 three-pointers he took this year. The Hawks are in position to groom a young big man behind Dwight Howard, and Patton would be a tremendous value here.

20. Portland Trail Blazers - Harry Giles, C, Duke

The most likely landing spots for Giles are the teams with multiple first-round picks. No one is better equipped to take a gamble on him than the Blazers, a team that enters draft night with three selections in round one. Giles was once the top recruit in the country before multiple knee injuries took a toll on his production at Duke. If he can regain his old form, this could be a home run pick for Portland.

21. Oklahoma City Thunder - Luke Kennard, SG, Duke

Kennard is a cold-blooded scorer who fills it up from three-point range and finds ways to finish around the basket. He would give OKC some spacing for Russell Westbrook, another scoring option when Westrook is out, and some potential to grow into a pick-and-roll ball handler.

22. Brooklyn Nets - T.J. Leaf, PF, UCLA

The Nets could use another shooter after trading Bojan Bogdanović at the deadline. Leaf answers the call there. Brooklyn would afford him plenty of time to get stronger and gain his bearings as a scorer by the time they’re ready to win.

23. Toronto Raptors - Rodions Kurucs, F, Latvia

A potential draft-and-stash pick on the wing, Kurucs is a 6’8 forward with some perimeter skills.

24. Utah Jazz - Semi Ojeleye, F, SMU

Ojeleye committed to Duke out of high school, but didn’t become a star until he transferred to SMU. A supremely jacked three-level scorer, Ojeleye would give the Jazz another bucket-getter on the wing and additional lineup flexibility.

25. Orlando Magic - Ike Anigbogu, C, UCLA

He’s like Bismack Biyombo, only a lot cheaper.

26. Portland Trail Blazers - Wesley Iwundu, SF, Kansas State

Iwundu is a big wing who can handle, pass, and defend, but needs to grow as a shooter. If his jump shot fully comes around, he’s going to be a good player.

27. Brooklyn Nets - Derrick White, SG, Colorado

White is the surprise story of draft season after a breakout D1 debut season at Colorado. The former DII guard can shoot, pass, and handle the ball, and also tested well athletically. He’s a great story and a good player.

28. Los Angeles Lakers - Jonathan Jeanne, C, France

A 7’2 French centerwho could develop into a rim protector down the low. The Lakers need to find interior defense with this pick.

29. San Antonio Spurs - John Collins, PF, Wake Forest

Good scorer and rebounder who struggles defensively and doesn’t have much shooting range. He’s essentially a bigger, younger David Lee, which is a great value at this spot.

30. Utah Jazz - Isaiah Hartenstein, PF, Germany

A massive big man who does a little bit of everything and is working to develop his face-up jumper. He could be an eventual replacement for Derrick Favors.

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reeddisability2016-blog · 7 years

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Post 1

When I first told my brother I was taking a Disability Studies course, he was very skeptical that such a class had any merit in being the topic in a collegiate curriculum. He asked me: “How much more can you complicate the basic premise that it’s not ok to be mean to disabled people?” It seems to me like such a fundamental challenge deserves attention. Do Disability Studies have any place in scholastic conversation? If the purpose of scholarly work is to impact the “real world” in any pragmatic sense, the answer is a resounding “yes.”

One need not look any further than the 2016 Election to see why Disability Studies is a discipline deserving of its own study, ripe with opportunity to theorize broad social criticism on account of its subjects’ status as “Others.” If there was any doubt that discriminatory attitudes toward so-called “disabled people” are still prevalent in this day and age, Donald Trump put them to rest by publicly, and quite loudly, discrediting the credibility of a “disabled” journalist critical of his divisive rhetoric and misleading claims about his past performance and credibility as a candidate for leader of the “Free World.” With eyes squinted, and hands flailing wildly as he mimed rocking back in forth in a wheel-chair, he proceeded to cruelly mimic the speech impairments many disabled people overcome every day. If there was no need for Disability Studies, Donald Trump would have become a political pariah overnight, his followers abandoning ship by the thousands. Instead, Trump remained a beacon of hope to so many millions of disaffected (largely white) voters who dismissed any notion of Trump’s clearly troubling attitudes as the natural response of a “pampered snowflake,” who, unable to confront the “real world,” is obsessed with the ever-so-menacing “political correctness” that is characteristic of all that is socially liberal, empathetic, and equitable, or in other words “un-American,” if you take some pundits’ word as gospel. While this is a rather charged representation of how his voters, and Trump himself, explained the quagmire, I wonder if there’s much room for a reasoned, unbiased rebuttal. His only excuse, that he had no idea the reporter was “actually” disabled, does nothing to address the fundamental problem that he thought miming and mocking people in this way was even ok. That he did in fact know the reporter, as was quite quickly proven to be the case, confirms that he is both a liar and an unapologetic ableist. I would be delighted to hear any reasoned debate to this claim, but I suspect I would only be called a “snowflake” as semantics gave way to even the slightest rhetorical challenge. I won’t make any judgement on the eventual results of the contemptuous election season that spanned an unprecedented two plus years, for such a thing takes away from the purpose of this brief introduction to my journey in studying Disability Studies. I will, however, point out what is inescapable, and in need of immediate attention in light of Trump’s dramatic entrance to the political circus: there is something wrong with how we, collectively, conceptualize and treat “disabled” people.

One could write an entire volume on Donald Trump’s bizarre rise to power, and no doubt such a work will be written almost as soon as the man has run his course through history and ceases living. There will be many different attempts to explain the society which allowed such a peculiar spectacle to flourish, and there will likely be few agreements from one commentator to the next. Our job, as critically thinking, informed participants in a democratic society, is to make sure the manner in which we respond to the social forces Trump seems to embody leads to histories we would be proud of our children’s children writing, and willing to inherent ourselves. If something seems unsettling to you about an old, rich, white, male candidate, and eventual victor, of a National election being revered by so many despite demonstrating such distasteful behavior, and feel obliged to act in defense of those who will one day inherent the dividends of our labors, buckle up, because this project is for you. Examining cultural objects and literature spanning thousands of miles (in some cases, literally) and situated in many different milieus, I will be looking at representations of Disability as its own category and at the intersections of other marginalized social locations. The lessons and observations that follow, if they succeed, should invite one to reevaluate their own ideas about self-embodiment and the lived experience of other bodies. If we scholars and students wish to inspire cultural and political change that impacts the subjects of our discourse, we must present a coherent narrative about the representation of disability which readily lends itself to empirically and rationally sound inquiry. At the same time, we must not let down our guard, and resist letting our emotions and interests build the framework through which we seek navigate this narrative. As such, one further condition for success then, is the extent to which the findings contained herein find applicability in any number of disciplines within the Social Sciences. I hope you enjoy reading this series, and that in bearing with my oftentimes inadequate attempts to frame Disability as a site of identity and social critique, you find yourself enriched, and inspired to act in defense of all your fellow humans. We won’t make it any other way.

Oh, I’ve included a clip of Donald Trump mocking a respected, capable journalist, delegitimizing his place in society and his fundamental worth as a human being. Attempts to discredit the voices of those who stand in the way of ideological purity and political expediency in virtue of their being “abnormally” embodied are eerily similar to the tactics of humanity’s worst actors. In reading literature from the perspective of a marginalized social locations, we find warnings from those who failed to prevent the rise of tyrants, and accounts marginalized experiences provide us with first-hand accounts of the injustices arbitrarily committed for the sake of ideology. If anyone asks: this is it. This is why we study Disabilities Studies.

#disabilityfarr

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