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omegangrins · 3 years

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A Rant on the End of Tremors 7: Shrieker Island

As the main man said,

Throwing caution to the wind because this blew up elsewhere.

If you can do it with Justice League, fuck it, let's do it for every shitty movie we've got.

While we're at it, can we change the ending of the 7th Tremors movie so *MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS* Burt Gummer doesn't die or at least bring Jamie Kennedy back, or Marvel style recast Jon Heder, so he dies saving his son instead of a random-ass person who could have easily saved themselves. Or cut the forced montage of Burt clips at the end so his death is at least ambiguous. Seriously beyond pissed about that one. THAT is no way for him to go.

I would also like to point out that the next Tremors *HAS* to be titled Tremors 8: Ouroboros and bring everyone back for Burt's funeral . Otherwise, what's the fucking point?

I have feelings about it, people. *FEELINGS!!!*

One of my favourite childhood memories is picking out Tremors 2 from the local gas station's movie rentals and forcing my parents to watch it. I was probably 5-6 at the time.

Let's say that it's been a lifelong love affair ever since. It took me another 10 years before I even watched the 1st. Probably why I hold good sequels in such high regard.

I didn't even know about the 1st until it played as a trailer in front of 2 and never thought to watch until years later. That's a testament to its filmmaking if I ever knew one.

So seriously, that's how they chose to kill off one of the most well known and prolific characters in a movie/TV series known around the globe? With an unnecessaryily needed death and a montage of clips from all the other movies that are obviously better than this one.

And I'm saying that as someone who defends Chibnall/13th Doctor...

...and I'm fucking fuming because THIS is how you *actually* destroy something people love and hold dear to their hearts. It's like the ending of Game of Thrones. His shitty ass death has made it a loooooot harder to rewatch. And they are one of my favourite series!!! Not flawless but fun. But I will defend every other movie and all the episodes except this. Honestly I'll still defend 7/8ths of this one as well.

Like I said, it's easily fixed too. Fucking vice versa swap out Jon Heder for Jamie Kennedy, who the movies have been building up for the last two, and have Burt save his son in front of his old flame. Boom, you won't even need the montage of clips cause you can just have Travis and his mom reminisce about Burt instead. Show not tell. I don't even care he died by Graboid (although in all honesty, I've allways wanted El Blanco to take him down or Burt kills himself from the PTSD. It would have AT LEAST MADE SENSE. Hell, the best would be a heart attack to callback Val's "Yeah, Burt, the way you worry, you're gonna have a heart attack before you get a chance to survive World War Three.". But none of us ever get the best death.). And it's not even about Burt sacrificing himself to save a nobody. Cause that could work too. BUT YOU NEED TO BUILD THAT SHIT UP. Not just fucking drop it like it's hot.

Like I said too, the first 7/8ths ain't bad but it's an entirely different story than a swansong for a hero.

It's all about some billionaire scientist/cowboy hunter dude who likes to get his jollies off hunting the biggest and the baddest who ends up inviting people to this island so they can hunt down Super-Graboids he designed for shits and giggles. But then some Shrieker-fy....

And the pretentious douches come and die one by beautiful one while Burt tries to save them anyway and it's all spectacularly dumb fun until it comes crashing down in the final 10 minutes. Fuck, they should just cut the last 10 minutes. Then it's a perfect little Tremors ditty.

#RELEASETHE7THTREMORSWITH10MINUTESFROMTHEENDCUT

This isn't even about Jon Heder either. He's just doing his job. Hell, do what /u/VoiceofRonHoward pointed out.

"It is clear that Jon's character was just pasted in over Jamie's, the artifacts of the father-son relationship are all over it. They should have gone full Marvel and just replaced Jamie with Jon and acted like nothing happened."

CAUSE FUCK YES!! The only time a story sucks is when they don't commit. Commitment makes all the difference. Now, I'm pissed double-pissed they didn't do that instead since Heder and Kennedy are similar in terms of white-boy-ness.

Even Michael Gross agrees:

"Yes, yes. Now I can't presume to speak for Jamie [Kennedy]. My understanding was they asked him and he said no. And so that's why they went with somebody else. So I had nothing to do with that decision. I just heard the stories. I missed him for that reason. You begin a relationship with the character, and you want to continue it....

...As you build a relationship with this son, we had two, it would've been nice to have three, but that was the hand I was dealt."

One of my favourite bits of Tremors lore comes from the 5th too so it's not like I hate sequel changes out of hand:

"This is a warrior dance. Our ancestors hunting the lnkanyamba and the Impundulu.

"What's that?

"Impundulu. It's what you call the Ass Blaster.

"Ass Blaster.

"Yes.

"Hey, you know, you make Ass Blaster sound good.

Primitive cultures fighting Graboids, Shriekers and Assblasters. I just love that thought.

Hilariously, my meta opening to the 8th movie would be a flashback to 10,000 years ago and a Neanderthal-like Burt Gummer teaching others how to drive Graboids off cliffs like they did with mammoths.

Thank you for giving me the space to rant. Cause fuuuuuuhhhhhhhhuuccck!!!

Here's Michael Gross' own words from his AMA that prove the people making Shrieker Island didn't know their shit.

"The Tremors series is one very close to my heart and I want you to know how appreciated your continued effort is for your core fan base.

My only question would be were there ever any studio decisions made for Burt that you refused to comply with? Or was everybody pretty much always on the same page on what to do with the character?

Thanks again for your dedication.

- Josh"

"Thanks for the kind words, Josh. As regards the first four films, with Wilson and Maddock as the writers, we were very much on the same page. 5,6, and 7 were a bit different, because there was a 13-year hiatus between 4 and 5, and we had to refresh our memories while "reinventing" the franchise for a new audience. I will give you one example: in an early draft of Shrieker Island, a new writer wrote a draft where Burt threatened to shoot one of the bad dudes, and I had to tell him—this is true—"Burt never intentionally points his gun at another human being."

And his own thoughts on Burt's "death" and how to bring it all back together again.

Universal and the director [came] to me with this idea, and they said, 'This could be emotionally very powerful, if we have to say goodbye to this man after 30 years. And I hemmed and hawed, and I thought about it a little bit. And I said, 'You're absolutely right about the emotional gut punch this can be.' And I said, 'You're going to hurt a lot of people's feelings.' And I said, 'But I thought this franchise was over after four. So I could certainly live with it being over after seven.'

"What we negotiated -- well, it wasn't really a negotiation, we all agreed on this -- is that we kind of left the door open. >!Because although Burt is gone, we never see a corpse. We never see his remains. Everybody assumes he's gone. Is he buried somewhere? Is he unconscious somewhere? We never see Burt dead. We see Burt gone. We see Burt not returning. What does that mean? Has he been knocked out? Does he have amnesia somewhere? Does he wander off? Is he in a kind of coma? So yes, the way it ends is pretty profound."

"As regards to the end of Tremors 7, let me just say that while people ASSUME Burt is gone, we never see his remains, do we? Just sayin.'

"The only reason he has become the main character is that everyone else in the original cast moved on to other things. I NEVER thought of him as the central figure, but it just worked out that Michael Gross, like Burt Gummer, was a "survivor." :0) "

"No one would like to see it more than I!!! One of my greatest regrets is that so many other cast members fell away over time. Reba was on to other things, Kevin said no to a second, Fred said no to a third. I would LOVE one last go with all of them, but it is not up to me. :0( "

"There are no guarantees, but for those who wonder aloud if this is the final film, I will say what I have said before: SALES drive sequels, Show biz is 5% show and 95% business, so if this latest addition to the Tremors franchise, sells well, [Universal] will follow the money, and Universal Pictures Home Entertainment may will be back for more."

/u/ActorMichaelGross, the bell has been rung and the song sung. Get the producers on this ASAP!!

I was also the first person to discover the symbolic foreshadowing of Stumpy's end with Earl's sleeping bag in the original movie.

Let's just say, I really *really* love these movies. So if anyone knows anyone, hook me up to the producers of this series and I'll Justin Lin in the Fast and Furious out of this shit.

Since I don't think it's good to critique without proposing either, I say we can make up for this fuck up with the next movie. We'll call it Tremors 8: Ouroboros. After the snake which eats its own tail.

We find out Burt faked his death to get the Proudfoot Corporation to let down their guard and when everyone from the previous series comes back for Burt's fake funeral they give him ever loving shit for being such a paranoid whack-job that he would fake his death to fool a government agency. Why would he do this? He found an old photo of Hiram Gummer with a Graboid warning on the back and asks himself why this valley, why these things, why allways me? And we find out, it's not Burt. It's that lifestyles of extremes will end up in places of extremes. Burt and the Graboids are survivors of different species. Sure the Proudfoot Corporation IS using Mixmaster to combine Graboids, Shriekers, and Ass-Blasters into one super creature for the military but it pales in comparison to Burt looking at his life and wondering in shame how many ancient giants like himself he has killed. And with that, he actually dies, and we keep the ball rolling with the rest of the characters trying to stop what they allways thought was just another one of Burt's crazy conspiracies.

That's why it's Ouroboros. Everything comes back around. We could end/start the movie with Grady, Earl, and Jodi opening a Monster World in Perfection Valley a la Desert Jack's Graboid Adventure. I don't know. I'm fucking trying harder than the people they paid to do this already.

It ain't perfect but I'm building on sand here so changes are gonna get made.

Like if the makers of Tremors notice this,

Then DM me because fucking A you guys need some help.

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scribomaniac · 3 years

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Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 14

Grunting as the air was knocked from her lungs, Emma somersaulted behind a chair in the attic, just barely dodging a fireball. Closing her eyes and her fist, she tried to pull on her new powers. Nothing.

Feeling a shadow fall over her, Emma’s eyes snapped open and she found a shadowy figure looming over her. Curling back her lips, she decided to switch tactics. Roaring with rage, Emma launched her self at their torso and tackled them to the ground. The figure let out a shrilly scream and then the shadows around it receded to reveal Tink.

The white-lighter grimaced up at Emma, “Not bad,” she wheezed, “but I don’t think that will work against the actual Source.”

Breathing heavily, Emma shrugged, “Never know until you try, right?” Emma helped the smaller woman up, then pushed the hair away from her face. “And I’m sorry but I just can’t take you seriously. I know this,” she waved at Tink, referencing the previous transformation, “is supposed to make me feel like I’m actually in danger but it really doesn’t.”

Tink did a good job turning herself into a menacing figure, and had nailed the illusion of fireballs and energy balls, but in the end, Emma knew it was all fake and that the woman would never intentionally hurt her.

“Well you’ve got to learn how to use your powers on command, Emma!” Tink threw her hands up, practically stomping her foot as well. “Not just when you’re in danger!”

“Yeah, well,” Emma sighed. When she’d been a Firestarter, using her powers had been so easy. That heat was always inside her, ready to overflow like lava. It hadn’t always been like that though. Her earliest memories of learning to use her magic consisted of Rumpelstiltskin screaming and threatening her, backing her into a corner until he got the result he desired. It was because of that that Emma had suggested this type of training, but it didn’t seem to be working. Emma shook her head, “Maybe if you yelled more?”

A bright white light rose from the floor, interrupting their conversation. After only a few seconds Will emerged from the light, a bright smile on his face. “Hello ladies. Emma, your mom just got back.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Tink stepped in front of Emma to block her from leaving the attic. “We need to figure this out, Emma!”

“Figure what out?” Will asked, looking nervously between the two of them. Then, “Wait, your power thing?”

“The only time you’ve been able to use them so far was during the last two demon attacks.”

Emma rolled her eyes as Tink pointed at her, “Yeah, and? I can use them when it counts so what does it matter?”

“Using them when it counts and using them to defeat the Source are two different things.”

“Okay,” Will stepped in, steadfastly not making eye contact now. “Tink, ah, why don’t you go take a break. I think Liam’s down at the pub. He could probably use some help training the new bartender.” When Tink merely raised a brow at him, he waved her on, “Come on, I’ll take over the training from here.”

Narrowing her eyes, Tink asked, “You’re sure? You’re not just going to blow it off as soon as I leave?”

“Scout’s honor, now shoo.”

With a long sigh, the white-lighter relented and orbed away.

“Alright then,” Emma placed her hands on her hips. “What did you have in mind?”

Clapping his hands together, Will answered, “A break! Come on.” The youngest Jones brother led Emma over to the windows and had her sit down.

“Didn’t you just promise Tink?” Emma asked wryly. “Scout’s honor and all that?”

“A break is not the same thing as blowing it off,” Will answered easily. “Now, tell me everything you’ve tried so far.”

So Emma did. Over the past week and a half she and Tink had tried what felt like everything. Walking into pitch black rooms, using magical stimulants, asking Jones ancestors for help, even. Nothing had summoned even a spark from the Savior. Nothing, it seemed, except the pure adrenaline that came from a life or death situation.

Will hemmed and hawed at all the right times, his mouth set in a firm line as he considered her words. “And before, when you were in the Underworld, this was how you trained your powers? The Source would attack you?”

Emma shrugged, then nodded.

“And so when you used your powers after that, what did you focus on?”

“What do you mean?”

Biting down on his lip, Will was silent for a second as he thought to rephrase his question, “I mean, what did you feel when you used your powers? When you summoned fire? Scared? Happy? Emotionless?”

The answer came surprisingly easy to Emma, even though she’d hardly ever thought of it before. Softly, she answered, “Angry. I felt anger.”

Will nodded excitedly, as if that made complete sense. “Right, okay, yeah! You were angry because of how he treated you, right?”

Emma nodded slowly. It was true, she’d been angry at her life in the Underworld, but she wasn’t just angry at the Source. She’d been angry at her parents for giving her up, the Seer for making her drink that bitter tonic, Bae for watching everything happen but never helping her. And she’d been angry at herself, for never fighting back.

“So anger was the trigger then, but it isn’t now, because so much has changed, right?” Not waiting for Emma to even nod this time, the half white-lighter continued, “So we have to find the new trigger—the new emotion for you to draw on. The last time you used them, what did you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Emma tried to think back. It’d been an attack by some lesser demons, but there’d been a lot of them. David had been there too, and Emma had been worried he’d get hurt in the crossfire. “Scared, I guess. For David.”

Will’s eyes narrowed, and then he lunged and shouted in her face, “Boo!”

Startling, Emma fell back against the chair’s arm, “What the hell was that?”

“Did I scare you?”

“What?” Emma frowned, “Yes! Jeez, of course you scared me, you screamed right in my face.”

Will shrugged, “Then fear’s not the trigger.”

Emma rolled her eyes. This was going no where. Killian had once told her that Will was studying Psychology. She wondered if this was practice for him or something.

“Okay, I want to try something else.”

“Can we just go back to the training?”

“This is training,” Will insisted. “Now, close your eyes.”

Emma stared at him blankly, not deigning the request with a verbal rejection.

“I know this is hard for you, Emma,” Will said, looking straight into her eyes and forcing her to see the pure sincerity in his own. “But please, trust me. Just for a little bit.”

Pursing her lips, Emma took in a deep breath before doing as he asked.

“Okay,” Will said slowly, “now I want you to really think back to the last attack. Tell me what happened.”

This was silly. Shaking her head but keeping her eyes closed, Emma replied, “Seven lower level demons attacked the manor. Two went after you and Killian, three went after Liam, and two appeared behind David.”

Will’s voice was calm and steady as he asked, “And you were scared he was going to get hurt?” Emma nodded. “So what did you do then?”

“I ran towards him and used my power to vanquish them.”

“Okay, now I want you to reflect on that moment. The moment where you decided not to run and save yourself, but to run towards someone in danger. Did you feel anything? Did you think about it?”

Emma remembered the look on David’s face. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open as he watched the demons work. Emma’s heart stopped dead at his expression, and then when she saw the two demons shimmer behind him, when one summoned a fireball to his hand, there hadn’t been time for second thoughts. All Emma knew was that she couldn’t let him die. Couldn’t let her father die. She needed to protect him, would do anything to protect him, even if it meant sacrificing herself to do so.

“Emma,” Will’s soft voice permeated her thoughts, “open your eyes.”

When she did, she gasped. The whole room was lit up with a golden light. Looking down at her hands, she found herself to be the source. It was beautiful and shone even brighter than a white-lighter.

Will’s grin was wider than his face could manage. It was contagious too and soon Emma felt her own smile cracking against her lips. “Looks like we found your trigger.”

Feeling like a child on Christmas morning, Emma ran down to tell Mary Margaret the news. The older witch was ecstatic by the development, immediately suggesting new methods of training and ways to manipulate Emma’s light. It was like a light switch had been turned on inside Emma’s head. By the afternoon, she was able to focus the light on her hands, control its brightness, and she’d even been able to shoot off a few bolts at small targets.

Eventually Mary Margaret had called it a day, not wanting Emma to overtire herself, and suggested they take a break—a proper one this time, Will had joked—by looking through some old family photos. Unsurprisingly, most of the photos centered around Emma’s brother, Neal.

“And here he is at his high school graduation,” Mary Margaret flipped through her phone with a soft smile on her face. “You should have seen your father when he was accepted into UCLA. I swear that smiles was screwed onto his face for weeks.”

Emma hummed, not entirely sure what that all meant. She knew UCLA was a college, sure, but she didn’t get why someone would get so excited about going there. Then Mary Margaret swiped to another picture and this one showed Emma’s younger brother wearing a blow and gold football uniform. “Is he on the team?”

“Just for the first couple of years,” Mary Margaret nodded. “Then he quit to focus more on his studies. He’d decided to become a teacher halfway through and needed to take extra classes to catch up. Football’s pretty intense there so he wasn’t able to keep up with both.”

“A teacher, huh?” Emma hadn’t missed the way Mary Margaret’s eyes had lit up at the mention. “Like mother like son.”

Ducking her head but grinning proudly, Mary Margaret chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t know what made him change his mind, but it was a happy surprise. For me at least. You wouldn’t believe how angry his grandfather became after Neal made the decision. Ah,” her brows raised and she quickly looked over at Emma, “I mean, your grandfather. Both of yours. Sorry.”

Not offended by the slip up in the slightest, Emma shrugged and asked, “Why’d he get mad?”

“He was originally going to study law,” Mary Margaret rolled her eyes and then swiped through a few more photos until she found one that included her, David, a toddler Neal, and a few other people Emma didn’t recognize. “Here’s your grandpa George,” she zoomed onto the face of a balding old man with perfect posture and a hard lined mouth. “He owns a law firm in L.A and wanted Neal to take it over for him one day. He had the same reaction when David dropped out of law school and entered the police academy.”

“Did he ever get over it?” Emma frowned at the picture. The man looked cold and mean, not unlike some of the faces she’d grown up with in the Underworld.

“It took a few weeks, but he eventually came around. George can be a bit crotchety at times but he’s a big softie when it comes to Neal since he’s—or, was—his only grandchild.”

“What about him?” Emma pointed to another man in the photo, one who had an identical face to David’s. “You didn’t tell me David was a twin.”

Mary Margaret’s lips thinned. “That’s James, your uncle.”

“No kids from him, then?”

“No, thank God. Oh!” Mary Margaret’s eyes went large and Emma laughed. “No, that was unkind. Ah, I just mean he never found the time, I guess. He’s a lawyer too, and—”

“And he’s a total jackass?” Emma guessed, a wide grin pulling at her lips. Before this Emma had thought the woman a saint with no bad words to say about anyone—demons excluded, of course.

Sighing in defeat, Mary Margaret nodded, “Utterly and completely.”

The image on Mary Margaret’s phone disappeared, revealing a name as a call interrupted them. “Oh, that’ll be my sub. I need to take this.” She gave Emma an apologetic smile.

“Go for it, I’m going to take a shower.”

The room the Jones brothers had given her was located on the second floor. It used to be a study for Liam, and before that a nursery, so it wasn’t very big, and it hadn’t been updated in at least twenty years, but it was comfortable and gave Emma a place to go for privacy. They’d made the decision to have her stay with the Charmed Ones to provide extra protection and the cut down on any travel time between the Manor and the Nolan’s house.

Opening her closet and pulling out a new, non-sweat covered shirt and pants. She’d have to grab a new towel from the linen closet in the hallway since she’d thrown her other one in the hamper this morning. Once all this was over, Emma had decided, she’d be over the moon to have her own bathroom again. She’d never truly appreciated the luxury a private bathroom was.

Another reason Emma was staying in the manor was because they’d decided to wait to tell Neal about her existence until after destroying the Source. Neal knew he had a sister, theoretically, but he didn’t know she was alive and in contact with his parents. They still weren’t sure how they’d break it to him. He had no idea that his mother was a witch since Mary Margaret had given up the practice ages ago. So that left them with two options, either fessing up about the whole things, or coming up with a new lie. Personally, Emma preferred the later option. Neal had been told his sister was kidnapped as a baby, all Emma had to do was say something like she’d tracked them down through some DNA testing site or something. David had been on board with that plan, but Mary Margaret was obviously uncomfortable about lying to her son. Omission was one thing, she had said, but outright lying was another.

“Hello dear.”

Emma’s heart stopped. Spinning around, she found the Seer lounging on the bed. Her blood red lips were pulled back into a devious smirk, reminding Emma of a snake that was eager for an easy meal.

“Regina,” Emma growled. Fists curling, her hands began to glow. “What are you doing here?”

Not bothering to move an inch, Regina shrugged a diamond covered shoulder, “I wanted to check in on you. It’s been so long since we last spoke.” Quirking a brow, she asked, “By the way, how’s your mother?”

Raising her luminous hands, Emma took a step forward, ready to end the Seer’s life right here, right now.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Regina held up a finger, her smile broadening. “If you vanquish me now, then you’ll never defeat the Source.”

Frowning, Emma paused but didn’t lower her hands. “What did you see?”

Casually, as if she wasn’t two seconds away from being smited into oblivion, Regina stood from the bed and walked around the room. Trailing her finger along the wooden dresser and sneering at the floral drapes. “Who decorated this place?”

“Regina,” Emma snapped, finally putting her hands down and dispersing her magic. If the Seer had wanted her dead, she would have attacked by now. Or she would have had someone attack her by now. And since neither of those things had happened, that could only mean she wanted something from Emma. “What did you see?”

“Many things,” Regina hummed, now directing her gaze up to the crown moldings. “The future is not yet set you see, but the odds are not in your favor, dear.”

Emma knew she was being baited. Regina used to play this game all the time when Emma was a child. She’d tease out details of the future in order to have Emma beg for more information. Not this time, though, because this time Emma knew something Regina didn’t.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma said, “Screw the odds, you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you did then you’d have killed me after stealing me from my mother.”

Spinning around to stare straight at Emma, her dark red dress swishing loudly at the movement, Regina barked out a laugh, “You think so? Why? Because you’re the Savior?” Seeing Emma’s eyes widen, she laughed again, “I’ve always known what you are Emma. I’m the Seer,” her lips pulled back in disgust, “I knew what your destiny would be long before you were a thought in Mary Margaret’s pretty little head.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. If Regina’s known this whole time, then Rumpelstiltskin must know too. So what’s he playing at? If he knows who she is and that she’s destined to kill him, then why has he let her live for so long? Why did he make her so powerful? Why did he keep her at his side? Regina had to be up to something. Emma thought of Glass and his fate. Regina had gotten the demon killed without lifting a finger.

“So many thoughts, so little time,” Regina tutted. “I never told Rumple. He just thinks you’re a Firestarter,” she shrugged, like an afterthought, “maybe a bit more powerful than most, but nothing more.”

“Why?” It didn’t make any sense. Regina was the Source’s right hand. She helped him gain power centuries ago, she told him everything. So why didn’t she tell him this? Why did she want Rumpelstiltskin dead, or was this a trap? “What are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, I assure you.” Stepping closer, Regina continued, “All you need to worry about is getting stronger, and you won’t be able to do that while working with that insufferable white-lighter or your pure-hearted mother.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Mary Margaret,” Emma said, her tone low and deathly serious. “I should kill you right here and now for what you did to us.”

“Probably, but you won’t.” Regina stepped even closer, looking straight into Emma’s eyes.

Emma raised a brow, “You sure about that?”

Regina chuckled, “You need me to find Rumpelstiltskin’s dagger. Killing me will just ensure your own demise, and the demise of everyone you love. No,” she smiled, all teeth and no warmth, “you’re too smart to kill me now. I raised you better than that.”

Maybe what she said was right and Emma couldn’t kill her, that didn’t mean she had to put up with this. Hands flashing brightly, Emma pushed Regina hard. The Seer hissed as she fell backwards across the room. The fabric covering her shoulders were scorched and blackened and smokey tendrils turned into a hazy mist around Regina’s face. Through the fabric Emma could see Regina’s skin, shiny and red with blood, begin to heal.

“You raised me to be a killer,” Emma straightened her book and looked down at the demon responsible for the piece of shit she’d called a life. “So don’t test me.”

Standing back up to her full height, Regina tried plastering on her usual grin but it was obviously strained. “Guess you’re not as smart as I thought.”

Lifting her chin, Emma replied, “Guess I’m not as afraid of you as you thought. Now get out.”

Regina blinked. “What?”

“Get out of this house,” Emma repeated. “I don’t need your help and I don’t need it. I’m not playing your games anymore, Regina.”

“So what?” Regina laughed, incredulous, “You’re letting me go?”

Emma nodded, “You get this one pass, but if I ever see you again I swear to god, Regina, I’ll burn you into oblivion.”

“Stupid child,” Regina hissed. “You’ll regret this.” Then, in a wave of white light, she vanished from Emma’s room.

Knowing the Seer, she headed straight for the Underworld with the intention of telling the Source of her new “discovery” and that Emma was the Savior. Once Rumpelstiltskin knew of her true identity, he was sure to come after her himself, holding nothing back. She was ready for him though, she could feel it in the marrow of her bones. Regina was wrong. Every second of every day Emma grew more into her power and her strength, and it was only a matter of time now before her light eclipsed the Source’s darkness. Like a candle at the end of its life, Rumpelstiltskin’s reign of terror was about to be snuffed out. Let him come.

#charmed au #something wicca this way comes #ouat #emma swan #tinkerbell #liam jones ii #captain swan #i realized i never posted this chapter to tumblr #oops #my bad

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kerwritesthings · 4 years

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Dance Your Way Into My Heart

Summary: It’s more than just that feeling of love, it’s the actions, and the talk of forever

Word Count: just a little over 2.6k

Warnings: more soft, squishy, lovely words with a side of wedding fluff

Author Notes: So, this is my 10th ‘full-length’ one shot in this verse which boggles my mind since it’s ONLY been about a month (a day or two off actually – I first posted late the night of Jan 18!) since I started writing around this fool heart. I think he, and this place, the people and the creativity, really came to me when I’ve needed it the most. Sooo, now that the emotional nonsense has been blithered out. Here’s a little something for that…

Funny enough that this all hit me the Wednesday/Thursday before any of Josiah’s wedding stuff hit. Another pretty photo reblog from @rainbowshawn that set me on a spiral of ohhh shit I can see him singing at a super casual wedding like this and then the next thing you know I’ve busted out 500ish words on my Notes app on my phone while at a bar waiting for my friend before seeing Moulin Rouge on Broadway that night, total aside THE SHOW IS AMAZING – listen to the OBC album cause it’s bomb, however I digress.

As always, these can be read as stand-alone one shots, but they all fall under the umbrella of this verse of mine. Reading the previous would provide some context. Masterlist can be found here!

As soon as she asks, Shawn immediately said yes. He's such a sucker for love and weddings and basically anything to make you happy. So, when your best friend asks you if you’d think he would be willing to sing at her wedding, you mention she would need to talk to him and ask. So, she flies up for a weekend under the onus of coming to hang out with you. However, she takes him to lunch one afternoon just the two of them, his favorite place downtown, nervous and anxious. However, you understood it was a shoe in. It was sweet though she wants to go the extra mile with him.

“You knew?” he asks, flopping down on the couch next to you, head immediately falling in your lap as soon as he gets back home.

“Mmhmm,” you mutter, hands automatically winding through his hair. “Told her she needed to talk to you though. Maid of honor duties only go so far you know. What did you say?”

“Yes, duh. Of course, yes,” he replies, eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes into your touch. “Didi is your best friend, she’s the closest thing you have to a sister. Of course, I’m going to sing for her for her wedding. Plus, it’s going to be so super chill and laid back. I told her to give me a few things she and Tomas like and I’ll work around with that. I also told her I want first dance duty. No wedding band or DJ should have your bestie’s special moment.”

“You’re something else and I love you. Thank you, sweetheart. It means a lot to her. And even more to me,” you whisper, leaning down to dust a kiss to his forehead, another to his nose before reaching his lips.

Didi can’t stop raving, gushing and thanking you and him. The key smash texts are adorable and you both appreciate the lovely case of rosé champagne she sends over. Tomas, separately, takes him for a boys night at Maple Leafs game next time he’s in town as a personal show of thanks for helping his future wife. Shawn takes his role seriously, copious notes and hours locked away in his studio practicing or grumbling some days. It’s heartwarming to see how much care he took in this. “At some point, she’s practically going to be my sister-in-law, so yeah,” he blushes, after explaining the latest iteration of songs he’s going through. “Plus, it’s her wedding day. Needs to be epic and as perfect as possible. I’m going to make sure it’s that.”

He says it so nonchalant, so matter of fact, and without hesitation: At some point, she’s practically going to be my sister-in-law. It hits you square in the gut. You both know how deep your feelings run for each other, and you’ve had a few abstract talks, a few serious ones too, along with a more pointed talk specifically about the future. But you’ve never heard him speak of it with such assured conviction. Like it’s happening soon. You just look at him, jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that my dear,” he smirks, tapping his pointer finger up under your chin to close your mouth. Before you can reply, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, slowly and thoroughly.

“You know you’re my forever,” he sighs against your lips, just a hair away from yours. He presses a soft, quick peck to both corners of your mouth before one squarely against you. “I’ve thought about it a lot more lately. Since Santa Barbara and our breakfast by the pool, really. Of us doing this ourselves and what our wedding would be. I know the new album and the tour, and all that shit is a thing happening, but I also know you mean everything so…”

You don’t know what to say, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You just look at him, hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“This is not going there now, because this would be a lame as fuck as a story to tell on how I proposed to you, but just know. I’m thinking about it. Really and truly,” he reveals through a bright smile. “I love you, so, so much baby.”

You can’t help but shift your arms around him, face nuzzling into the side of his neck. This boy of yours. He’s something extraordinary.

At the rehearsal dinner, you spy him and Didi in deep conversation before you’re all due to sit down for dessert.

“He won’t tell me what they decided on, Didi either,” you explain to Didi’s sister Renee, as you head towards your table. “They’re being sneaky little shits, but you know Dee.”

Renee laughs, “Are you really surprised? After you’ve been friends for this long? It’s sweet of your man to be willing to do all this for them. I’ve already warned all cousins and the brothers’ idiot dates they are not to fawn over him, that he’s beyond happily taken by the maid of honor, and that if I see cell phones obnoxiously in the way at any point this weekend, I’m breaking them in some way.”

You hear his laugh before you feel his arm wrap about your waist. “This is why Renee is the best. She won’t take anyone’s shit. Even from her own family. Thanks girl. Appreciate you having my back,” he smiles, fist bumping Renee. “I owe you one.”

“Holding you to that, Mendes,” she grins widely. “Just make sure this one doesn’t lose her shit this weekend taking care of my sister. But I will gladly use that marker, especially next time your hot friends are around. Speaking of, I should go check on my parents, make sure my brothers haven’t done anything stupid.”

“Is Didi driving you batty?” he asks, guiding you into your chair. “She seems okay tonight.”

“Crowd around, her parents, Tomas’ family, she’s holding her own but there was some stupid family shit earlier,” you exhale, grabbing a hold of his hand to lace through yours, before tipping your head against his shoulder. “It’s nothing that I didn’t expect to deal with this weekend. She’s nervous, worried, second and fifth guessing things. I get it, this is a lot. She just wants to be married already.”

Shawn dusts a kiss to your temple, “You’re such a good friend. You’re lucky to have each other. Tomorrow’s going to be great. Worse case, steal my flask and get her a little saucy before she walks down the aisle.”

You elbow him with a giggle, “You would suggest that, but you may be onto something. Thank you though.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of champagne, bobby pins and lip gloss with a soundtrack full of laughter and a lot of fighting back tears. You also may have sung along to your boyfriend’s last album, dancing around like you would do in her room when you were kids to your favorite songs. Didi’s suite is a buzz with her sister holding down the fort, cousins popping in and out, along with her mother and her future mother-in-law. At one point, after the glam team is gone, you finally have a moment alone with your best friend while her mom and sister go to grab her dress.

“I am so happy you’re deliriously happy,” you whisper, hugging Didi tightly before more folks come in. “You two are good together and I’m glad you found him.”

Didi sniffs, “Thank you, I know I’ve been insane, and you’ve been a saint. Your boyfriend too. Shawn has put up with me changing my mind on stuff like 17 times and he’s just rolled with it. You’re a lucky one too. He’s so fucking over the moon for you girly. Soon roles will be reversed, and you’ll be able to pay me back with your own crazy.”

You both scurry about to get into your dresses. With the wedding taking place at the botanical gardens, Didi decided she didn’t want fussy for anything around the ceremony. Her dress is a stunning V-neck sheath of flowy creamy, buttery chiffon, tiny flowers woven through her hair in place of a veil. Tomas’ grandmother’s necklace, a vintage diamond and pearl strand, lays just at her collarbones. You try not to cry but think back of the two little five-year-old girls who would play wedding in your grandparents’ back yard. “Oh Dee,” you sniff. “Tomas isn’t going to know what hit him.”

She smiles, her eyes just as wet, and reaches for your hands. “I couldn’t be up there without you, bestie.” You hear the flicker of a camera, knowing the photographer is back catching your moment and you’re grateful. “Your boy either. I know you hemmed and hawed about black for a wedding, but this dress is great.”

You’re the only one standing up with her, she didn’t want anyone up there with her other than you. Renee understood and was happy she didn’t have to wrangle a groomsman. She picked a black maxi, swirled with larger flowers in shades of pink and white. Your hair was up, a flower like the ones in your dress tucked in the mass of curls her stylist pinned about. Your bouquet is in a similar palate, while Didi’s has some purple, her favorite color, woven through.

“Let’s go get you married,” you say handing off her bouquet and tucking her arm under yours.

“Hey pretty girl, funny seeing you here,” he quips, his lips dusting against your bare shoulder, before tracing a finger across your back. You’re all outside the courtyard waiting to enter for the start of the ceremony. You turn to face him. He’s a vision, because of course he is when isn’t he, in black floral-patterned button down, similar to your dress, along with dark pants. What’s more interesting is that his beloved acoustic strung across his chest.

“I may have told Didi I would play all her walk-in music too,” he nods bashfully. “I wasn’t going to let them use Apple Music or Spotify or even worse some awful wedding singer.”

“You are something else, Shawn,” you reply, squeezing his hand tightly. “Really want to kiss you but I can’t mess up the gloss.”

He places a whisper of a kiss on your forehead, “Love you. I need to go get into place. Atmosphere music. Think I may sneak in one of my own in there before the processional stuff.”

You laugh, pushing him towards the archway of greenery, “Go be wonderful.”

He’s set up at the back of the courtyard, seats all set in front of him. He’s weaving melodies, no singing, just soft rhythms from his guitar. The space is perfect, green and lush and smelling lovely, a swath of flowers at the end of the path where Tomas waits. You make your way down and turn to watch for your best friend. However, before she arrives you take a moment to appreciate Shawn. He catches your eye, smiles and winks, mouthing love you before he sees the wedding coordinator waiving over at him.

He starts in on “Marry Me” when Didi arrives at the back of the aisle with her Dad. Your breath catches in your throat, the combination of seeing your best friend and hearing your boyfriend hits you hard. She starts making her way down when he begins on the chorus. You see Tomas out of the corner of your eye, and he’s got a hand over his mouth, eyes brimming over with tears. The ceremony is the perfect balance of exactly what Didi and Tomas are. Their vows are intrinsically them. They look every way that a couple getting married should. Glowing, in love and only eyes for each other. It’s hard not to let a tear or two out.

The reception is in the atrium of the gardens, under a massive domed stained-glass skylight, still lush with flowers and greens. Everything has been exactly as Didi has hoped. Meanwhile, your boyfriend is mysteriously missing. You’re sipping champagne with Renee and her boyfriend of the moment, while looking about for him.

“Last I saw him he was setting his guitar up before the rest of the musicians came in, don’t worry,” Renee starts, clinking glasses with you. “He’ll be back.”

He makes his way back into the atrium, and surprisingly he’s changed, a little dressier now in deliciously fitting black suit pants and a white button down, the glint of his silver chain obvious even from where you are. You excuse yourself from the group and steal Shawn away before he needs to soundcheck for their dance. You just want to have a moment with him before everything gets crazy, heading out to the patio just off the atrium, which is blissfully quiet. You wrap your arms around his waist and just hold him.

“You okay baby?” he asks, as he starts to sway with you, shifting your arms around his neck so he can pull you closer.

You nod, smiling, “I just needed you for a minute without all that is all.”

“You can have all the minutes you ever want or need,” he says, kissing you lightly.

“Sorry to break this up, please believe me I am, but my sister has decided she wants to get a move on,” Renee calls from the doorway.

“Duty calls for both of us,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Save me a dance or two?”

“All the slow ones at least,” he agrees, rubbing his nose against yours. “I’ll see you out there.”

Didi didn’t want a whole production with entrances, she wanted a few bars of song then for her and Tomas to start dancing straightaway. So, poised at the edge of what they have set up as the dance floor, with a good angle to see them once they walk in, as well as your boyfriend, you wait. Shawn starts playing, something floaty that that doesn’t sound familiar to you. The pair make their way in and as soon as they hit the center of the floor, he begins.

“Not talkin' 'bout a year, no not three or four. I don't want that kind of forever in my life anymore,” he sings gently. “Forever always seems to be around when it begins, but forever never seems to be around when it ends. So, give me your forever, please your forever. Not a day less will do, from you.”

The song is beautiful, he sounds amazing, Didi and Tomas as just love personified as they dance. He fades out slowly at the end, a light strum to close out.

“Thank you for letting me be such a special part of your day. That was Ben Harper’s Forever. Didi, Tomas, congratulations and love to you both,” he expresses, blowing a kiss to the two of them with his hands, you can see his emotions clear across his face. He heads back, as the band starts up, packing away his guitar before making his way over to you, now at your table.

“Wow,” you sigh, hand coming to the nape of his neck to sink into his curls. “That was something else, my dear. Didi fucking owes you.”

He blushes, ducking his head bashfully. “I’m just happy I could give them that moment. First dances are something really special. They deserved to have the best moment possible. Plus, that’s an awesome first dance song, not the usual. Makes it even better.”

“My hopeless romantic,” you muse, tracing haphazard patterns over the top of his hand that rests on your knee.

“Just you wait,” he smiles, kissing you. “Now, I’m on good authority the next song is a slow one, so may I have this dance?”

He stands, holding his hand out for you.

“You can have every single one, all of them from now on.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry

*Always feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes story

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writersrealmbts · 4 years

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Con Amore: Part 13

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 04/03/2020

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,470 words

A/N: One month until my birthday! I’m trying to finish this series. any guesses on the gender of the baby?

Previous Part.

That was as far as you’d gotten, the words seizing in your mouth as you tried to think of how to explain it all and Namjoon’s power wore off.

You were sitting partially against the wall and partially in Hoseok’s lap, trying to think of how to explain it all to them.

They were all gathered around you with pillows and blankets, cozy next to the fireplace you hummed into existence.

Hoseok was braiding lavender into your hair, and Jimin was singing softly as all of you relaxed from the stress of the ‘mission’.

Taehyung was sprawled across the floor and Yoongi, muttering about missing Yeontan.

Jungkook was curled in Seokjin’s lap, wrapped in his arms.

Namjoon was sitting against the wall beside you and Hoseok, waiting for you to be ready to talk.

“I went to the conservatory after my parents…well, after my mother was killed. I needed a distraction, a way to move forward. The conservatory offered training in hand-to-hand and other skills that I saw as useful. I’d only ever been trained in artifact retrieval and care, and self-defense. I thought learning something would help distract me. Everything was fine until about a week after I’d arrived. Every time I tried to just…go outside, to even just go to the gardens, I couldn’t. I asked the dean if I could and he said no. He wouldn’t give me a reason why, and he made it clear I wasn’t allowed to ask anymore.”

“So you went searching,” Yoongi said, smirking.

You nodded, looking to Jin. “You can imagine the secrets I found.”

“The testing,” He whispered, his grip on Jungkook getting taut and causing the younger to glance up at him in worry.

“Among other things. They were testing ways of stealing the students powers, brainwashing, hypnosis…bionic replacements.”

Taehyung sat up, looking worried. “Like Heuning’s wings?”

You nodded. “The man who did that was driven out when they realized it was hurting them, but he wasn’t stopped for quite some time after.” You fidgeted with Hoseok’s hand.

His other hand rested on your stomach, warm and comforting.

“But that didn’t stop the other testing. Or the abuse of the students. Manipulation and hypnosis, brainwashing them into their little soldiers. Maybe if I hadn’t been hiding who I was, I might not have had the backbone to resist their testing, but I was stronger than they knew. The students were prisoners. Test subjects. And they still are.” You let your gaze drop to the floor, thinking about the things you had to listen to, avoid, and endure. “If I hadn’t been able to sneak away to even just my little living-space pocket, I might have gone insane. I would also have been in trouble if I hadn’t been able to keep up with my hair dye. I was using a constant melody to keep my visage hazy, but a change in hair color would have been too noticeable. But getting away was difficult. I actually had to go to restricted areas just to find enough privacy.”

“You two weren’t there at the same time?” Yoongi asked, looking between yourself and Jin, holding hands with Taehyung.

Jin waffled a bit. “There was a little bit of overlap. About three months, actually, but we were always in different places. Or if we were in the same place, neither of us took notice of it. I was trying to escape already, after having exposed the man that did the bionic replacements. He called himself Daedalus. His test subjects had their memories wiped, and most were kept at the school, giving them new identities. After that the youngest kids disappeared before I could rescue them. I’m assuming that was you?” He rested his cheek on Jungkook’s head.

You nodded. “Yeah. After they were brainwashed. I had their files from the lab and I put them in a time-frozen room until I escaped. I met Nadya on my way out. They had been trying to find a way in to investigate. She knew that I was an Archivist, she’d been told she would meet one and that I was the answer. But when we returned to the temple and got the kids settled in with their former identities to help them recover, the time super also told us that the time for her to return to the Conservatory had yet to come.”

“I don’t understand,” Hoseok murmured.

You took a deep breath. “The conservatory fights, but they don’t value the lives of those they send to fight. They’re like toy soldiers. Fighting for whatever cause the conservatory’s dean determines worthy of their attention. Sometimes that means whoever is the highest bidder.”

“Or the fight against super-powered people,” Jin added quietly.

It hung heavily in the air.

“And you and Nadya want to put an end to it,” Yoongi said, nodding slowly. “Make it into a real school for heroes, a safe place for them instead of a nest of evil. But what about your connection to the current dean?”

The boys looked to Jin when you hemmed and hawed a bit, struggling to find a way to explain it.

He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t remember her at all.”

“Ryoko…she’s…” You sighed. “She was a student. One of the ones that was in charge of keeping me in line after they realized I was an escape artist.”

“And?” Namjoon asked, one of his hands encasing yours.

You stared at the floor. “She found out about me. And I had to use a memory spell on her. But when I did it…I had a lot of ideas. So I gave her an artifact that puts her in the good favor of those above her, one that earns you promotions…but that also let me know what happened at the conservatory.”

“W-what?” Jungkook’s eyes were huge.

Jimin’s mouth was open.

“You…used an artifact on her?” Jin asked, sounding like he couldn’t believe it. “What if someone had taken it from her?”

You shook your head. “It was a rare one, one that can only be used once.”

“So when Nadya asked if ‘She’ remembered you, she was talking about the dean?” Yoongi asked, frowning.

You nodded.

“What happens if she remembers you?” Jimin asked in a small voice.

You shook your head. “Nothing good. She’s always been power-hungry, that’s why she was the perfect choice to become the next dean and be my unwitting spy.”

“I still don’t understand,” Taehyung said. “I mean, I’m getting the feeling that there’s still brainwashing and experimentation being done…but I feel like there’s something else you haven’t told us.”

You met Jin’s gaze and could see he knew what you were going to say.

“None of you have asked about what happens to the students who don’t end up working for the Conservatory,” You said quietly. “Or why none of the students appear to be over the age of eighteen.”

The atmosphere of the room plummeted.

“Oh,” Hoseok breathed, hold on you just a little tighter.

Taehyung looked scared. “What happens to them?”

Jin cleared his throat, taking over. “If they reach the age of 18—”

“If?” Jimin asked, sounding distressed.

“They’re still used as soldiers, Jimin,” You told him, then gestured for Jin to continue.

“If they reach the age of 18, they’re given a choice: stay and work for the conservatory, or go out into the world. If they choose to go out into the world…they’re stripped of their powers, their identity…they become zombie-like. Eventually they can recover a little, but they will never notice supers or anything having to do with powers. They usually die from having their powers stripped from them, though. Or become addicts. I’ve heard of very few leading real lives.” Jin was holding onto Jungkook, like the kid might disappear at any moment. “The only reason I escaped was because I was a teacher, and I managed to leave during the turnover of staff. I wanted…I wanted to help them, but I didn’t know how. The conservatory is strong.”

“But you and Nadya think that this is the chance to change everything, to get the upper hand on the conservatory,” Yoongi said, putting it all together.

“Except I can’t be there.”

“What if we made sure the fight was drawn out, until after you’ve had the baby?” Namjoon asked, slowly and carefully.

You shuddered. “How many might die because of that?”

“Why do you need to be there?” Jungkook asked, frowning.

You looked around at all of them. “Because I can reverse the brainwashing. I’ve had the song for that school figured out for years.”

“Our first time back there you threatened to destroy the school,” Jin said softly.

“Yes. But more than anything else, I threatened to bring Ryoko harm, because it wasn’t the artifact that corrupted her. All of us lost count of how many young supers she has gotten killed.” You shuddered. “And Soobin is actually a former student.”

“What?” Taehyung yelped.

“He caught me as I was escaping and I brought him with me, took him to the home. That’s why he wanted to be closer to us instead of the people from the home. That’s why I didn’t want the boys staying there.”

“What are his powers?” Namjoon asked, frowning.

“Sonic senses, transmutation and peace inducement,” You answered, shifting and resting more on Hoseok. You felt insecure. You wanted them to assure you that they loved you, even if you did break your own rules. Your sacred rules of archives.

Hoseok’s hold tightened slightly, both hands on your stomach. “That is a dangerous power.”

“Which one?” Jungkook asked, frowning.

“Peace inducement,” Seokjin answered. “Under the control of any sort of villain or person with ill-intentions, he could induce everyone to peacefully accept a tyrant to reign over the country.”

Taehyung shuddered and pressed closer to Yoongi

“And the other boys? What are their powers?” Jimin asked, coming over to essentially sit on Namjoon so he could be close to you.

You chewed on your cheek for a moment. “Well, Beomgyu, you know has healing. Soobin told me he would keep the others safe if we made the wrong call about sending him with them. But I think it was the right choice. Heuning Kai has light, photokinesis, and the wings, but he also has air manipulation. Taehyun…I’m still not entirely certain about his powers, but I think…it’s largely psychometry, maybe enhanced memory reliving. Either way, it’s an extremely potent weapon. Especially since he also wears the badge of the high priest, meaning he trains directly with the high priest of time—not with one of the bishops or normal priests like other acolytes. That means he probable has prophetic visions or dreams.”

It was quiet after that.

Finally Seokjin forced in a breath, then forced it out. “And the last?”

“Yeonjun, he had the green robes of a nature acolyte, and his appearance…it’s definitely evidence of it….” You tried to remember what powers you’d sensed from him, working to pinpoint the exact name for them. “He was powerful too. Very powerful, but I was so overwhelmed by Taehyun’s power that I…I couldn’t really focus on his. But he was aware of Jimin, and there was some sort of…nature to him.”

“That would explain the horns,” Jimin whispered. “And the way…I didn’t really say anything but I felt like he was connected to me the moment we reached the archives and were away from the noise.”

You nodded. “I think…don’t quote me because I’m guessing here, but I think he has Ecological empathy…and maybe…something strong that has to do with the elements.” You tangled your fingers with Hoseok’s and vines quickly bound the two of you together by the wrists.

Jimin placed his hand over both of yours, smiling slightly when the vines wrapped around him too. “And are they okay right now?”

You nodded. “They’re fine. I have a song placed on Soobin, he knows how to let me know if something is wrong. I checked in this morning too, through the note-dropping system. He said they’re fine. Yeonjun is completely healed now, and they’re getting along, and apparently Huening Kai is very excitable and screams when he’s excited.”

“I wondered if he was okay, he seemed so uncomfortable and stiff,” Hoseok murmured.

“He’s young and had to go through a lot.” You let your eyes close.

You could hear them all moving closer, joining the pile.

Someone pressed a kiss your temple.

“You did so well today, baby,” Namjoon whispered. “I know it wasn’t easy telling us about what’s been going on, for you or for Seokjin-hyung. I know you probably downplayed a lot—”

“Probably?” Yoongi objected.

“Everything,” Seokjin said at the same time, sounding so heartbroken that it silenced the room again.

You opened your eyes to check on him.

Taehyung pressed a kiss to his lips. “I wish I could say I was sorry you went through that hyung.”

“Tae—” JImin hissed.

“But I’m not. I’m not sorry that you went through it because it’s what brought us together. It’s what brought you to me. You knew how to save me because of your time there, you knew how to help all of us become better people because of your time there. I’m only sorry that this place still haunts you, and that we didn’t realize how much trouble it was before now. You saved me, hyung. I know that might not be enough to you, but it means the world to me.” Taehyung pressed his face into the crook of Jin’s neck as he hugged him from behind.

Jin leaned back into the embrace, one arm still firmly planted around Jungkook, but his free hand going back to rest on Tae’s leg.

“He’s right. Your knowledge is what kept us from getting our butts kicked, now it’s you and y/n keeping us from getting our butts kicked and frankly…I think it’s because you both attended this school. So, we’re going to take it down. We’re going to find a way. Maybe not during this threat, but we’ll find a way,” Namjoon said, voice firm. “After. After our baby is born, and y/n has recovered. Until then, we build up our arsenal of allies. Or, if this fight takes longer than we think, maybe you come back in time for us to take down the school at the same time. Okay?”

There were murmurs of consent from everyone, including you.

Then all of you were just laying there, cuddling.

Because you would have to leave them once the conversation truly ended, and none of you were ready for that.

~~~~

Part 12. Part 14.

Masterlist. ~ Series Masterpost.

Tagging: @ephemeral-mindset, @alex–awesome–22, @bryvada, @missmoxxiesworld, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck

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makeste · 5 years

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BnHA Chapter 164: Life or Death Battle

Previously on BnHA: The internship kids returned to the dorms and were greeted by their worried pals. Iida hemmed and hawed. Momo made some tea. Satou shoved an entire cake into Deku’s mouth. Ochako realized she wanted to save people in addition to earning money to ease her parents’ poverty. Sero and Kirishima showered Kirishima with affectionate concern. Bakugou quietly chilled on the couch pretending not to be worried. Kaminari slid over and called him “Kacchan” like the homeboy he is. It was all amazing. The next morning, Bakugou and Todoroki headed off to their provisional license course. All Might and Present Mic showed up to chaperone them, and we learned from All Might that Kurogiri was indeed captured by Gran Torino and Naomasa, but Giganto escaped after dealing some heavy damage. The group arrived at the training course location, and everyone’s windy fave Yoarashi greeted them along with Camie (the real one!) and fucking Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (Seiji). Also Endeavor was there to watch. And he’s going to have a private chat with All Might. Should be lots of fun, this.

Today on BnHA: Our best boys Bakugou, Shouto and Inasa (and Camie) begin the day’s training course. Endeavor cheers Shouto on from the stands and everyone is like “...” but then they notice All Might sitting next to him and they’re like “OH FUCK YEAH, ALL MIGHT.” Gang Orca walks out onto the floor, compares all of the kids to fish feces, and fucking yeets my three faves across the room. He then informs them that they lack heart, and thus he is assigning them a special trial. Enter a group of about 25 screaming elementary schoolers, plus their harried teacher who is constantly on the verge of tears. Baku, Shouto, Camie and Inasa are told that they’ll be in charge of them, and that to pass this test they’ll need to cooperate and move the children’s hearts. This is, of course, a recipe for perfect chaos, and to make things even more entertaining, Mic decides to do play-by-play commentary. Meanwhile, a surprisingly subdued Endeavor asks All Might exactly what it means to be “the Symbol of Peace.”

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 187 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

looks like the kids have changed into their hero costumes and are trudging towards wherever the course will be taking place

aww Inasa is aggressively trying to be friends

LIGHTEN UP GRUMPY GRUMP

also I’m kind of with Inasa on this one. sorry Shouto. I’ve only had cold soba noodles like once but I wasn’t that big a fan. but udon is the shit though

Shouto apparently feels very strongly about this

I honestly can’t tell if he’s just really particular about his food, or if he feels like Inasa is trying to sneak up a metaphor on him and he’s like NOPE, NOT HAPPENING. THIS ZARU SOBA IS NOT GIVING UDON THE TIME OF DAY

oh my god Inasa is literally saying “WE’RE GONNA BECOME BEST BUDS WHETHER YOU LIKE OR NOT”

did you hear that Shouto. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT

that means it’s happening. because like. look at him. this big fluffy airbending teddy bear is not going to not let it happen

meanwhile Bakugou is watching and being creeped out. by their attempts at friendship? or something else?

MERAAAAAAAA

I’ve been having a bit of an insomniac phase myself. so I feel ya bro

also they’re in this gym that, surprisingly, actually looks like a normal gym?? although there’s a bunch of playground equipment in one corner which is odd

Mera says that so far they’ve been doing the training course with the ten of them, but today there will be an eleventh person joining them

so is that Camie then?

meanwhile All Might and Mic are entering the spectator area and looking for someplace to sit

Mic wants to sit near the front to see better, but All Might doesn’t want to stand out

well he is pretty famous. and not to mention that Endeavor’s still right there as well and I don’t know if they’ve had their chat yet orz

oh jesus

yep. wouldn’t want to distract anyone. definitely not looking to do that, nope

starting to see why Shouto was angsting so much over that text

so Endeavor is actually screaming encouragement at him, but in his obnoxious Endeavor way

I feel like. he’s actually trying. oddly enough. but he’s just. so terrible. in so many ways

oh snap I forgot all about this

yep. the guy that wouldn’t autograph your book and subsequently changed the course of your life by causing you to withdraw your application from U.A.

oh shit now All Might’s getting recognized too

I hope they cheer the fuck out of All Might and it’s like, who even fucking cares about Endeavor

hee

that’s Bakugou’s dad, you know. ever since chapter 120. and Deku’s dad too, obviously. Shouto he can be your dad too if you want. plenty of All Might to go around, and it’s not like your old man is doing such a bang up job

Shouto is literally saying “hmph” and even Bakugou is staring at him like “what’s this guy’s problem”

Mera’s telling everyone to calm down and pay attention to him again lol

and now real!Camie is properly introducing herself

ahhhh

so that’s the cover story Shiketsu came up with? or is that a story they’re telling the other kids? or does Camie herself genuinely believe this and no one actually knows she was briefly abducted and replaced by Toga?

and um. just to make sure. this is the real Camie though... right?

she’s acting differently enough that I think it is

Seiji is sitting with a Shiketsu teacher in the stands and they’re discussing it!

he says she’s “a complete and utter fool” and the teacher is gently correcting him and saying she’s “just bubbly”

so they did figure it out!

Seiji seems to actually be beating himself up for not realizing that she’d been replaced

(ETA: yeah, so rereading this, I’m getting some definite shipping pings from them now. Seiji’s clearly guilt-stricken about what happened to her, and clearly worried about her still. he didn’t attend any of the previous training sessions, based on Bakugou’s reaction, but he came along to this one now solely because Camie was going. he’s not going to let anything happen to her again. Seiji is, in fact, just a big ol’ softie you guys.)

the teacher is saying they need to make up for the absence of the Symbol of Peace immediately

I guess with this being the first time Shiketsu has been targeted, they’re finally realizing how serious this is too. U.A.’s been mixed up in this for a while, so they already know

heyyyyyy!

LOOK WHO’S BACK

he’s talking some shit about them, oooh

I assume he’s purposely trying to rile them up for whatever reason. probably because at least several of them are only here in the first place because of their poor anger management

everyone is instantly sobering up

lol Seiji

lmao

wow Gang is really laying it into them

ben·thos /’benTHäs/ (noun): the flora and fauna found on the bottom, or in the bottom sediments, of a sea, lake, or other body of water

did you just call my son a sea sponge. did you just compare them to fish poop

...

his feet

he just. flung him

is it weird that I really want to make this into an icon

...

is the whole rest of the chapter going to be like this

THERE IS NO RIGHT ANSWER HUH

this is now my favorite chapter in the history of time. also this is one instance where I’m already sure it’s impossible for the manga to be outdone by the anime. because how could it be. visually this is flawless

oh wait? is that it? just those three? no one else needs extra guidance?

so they’ve already singled out these three in particular as being the ones with the most potential, huh. sorry, Rest of the Kids

he’s chewing out Bakugou for his behavior toward the rescuees, and the other two for their whole starting-a-ridiculous-fight-in-the-middle-of-a-disaster-rescue-scenario

he says the thing they lack most is “heart”, and that they can’t expect to be heroes without it

“do you think that everyone will willingly grasp your hand when you offer it to them?!” oooh I like that. basically these idiots need to learn to be more approachable

“survive this life or death battle” lol oh shit

based on the tone of this chapter so far, I can’t help but wonder if this is going to end up being something comedically tame after all of this dramatic buildup

oh my god. suddenly I’m thinking back to that playground equipment. don’t tell me...

OH MY GOD

TODDLERS

holy shit. I count at least 24 of these tykes. and it looks like at least some of them have already manifested their quirks too oh shit

oh my god

Katsuki please don’t murder the small muppet child. I believe in you. babysit the shit out of these brats. you can do it

why do I suddenly have the feeling that maybe the elementary school just needed a substitute really last-minute and so this somehow ended up happening

now the big bird kid who called the grenades lame is running away crying

Bakugou is being chewed out by the other children and desperately trying to do some crisis management that consists of yelling at the kid to “STOP CRYING DAMMIT”

who the fuck is this

does Monoma have a younger brother we don’t know about

meanwhile three other children have cornered Shouto and are grabbing something on his utility belt and shouting “IT’S A PEEPEE” repeatedly

on the plus side, I can already sense Endeavor’s fight or flight instincts kicking in, and with any luck he’ll be out of there before we even get started

Shouto is patiently explaining that the thing on his belt is not, in fact, a peepee

this approach is not really working out for him

meanwhile still more children have surrounded Inasa and are just. punching him. for absolutely no reason

but Inasa is just taking it, and looking up at Endeavor and thinking “I won’t become like him.” awww

and yet this is not really working out either

you know, I wouldn’t have expected this to be the case, but so far Bakugou is actually managing the best here

Camie’s there too, and she’s asking if she’s supposed to be part of this training as well and what’s up with that

Gang says she’s a special case since she didn’t participate in the real test

she’s exasperated, but says that she likes kids anyway so whatever

and there’s a panel that we’re just going to skip riiiiight on past, thank you very much

suffice to say, the female kindergartners are now ganging up on Camie out of jealousy that their popular male classmate appears to like her

also, forget what I said before about Bakugou faring the best so far

little Billy, that is not a toy. please put down the grenade

these kids make flashback!baby!Kacchan look like a perfect little angel. at least he was cute

Gang somehow has faith in them though

you guys. if Kacchan somehow manages to bond with a bunch of snot-nosed little brats and become their mama I will lose my shit. please please please

(ETA: arguably this is exactly what happened. what a fine arc)

the rest of the class is meanwhile being shuttled along to have some boring lecture

lol Bakugou is despairing loudly

THIS IS THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YOU NEED, BUSTER. YOU SIT THERE AND YOU TAKE IT

and seriously though, wasn’t he always the leader of his little pack of brats even as a child? can’t he just somehow tap into that little brat energy and take command of this group of kids as well? he does have a weird sort of charisma, and always has. and he’s shown patience and leadership in the past at unexpected times. I really think he can do this if he just puts his mind to it

All Might, Mic, and Endeav are sitting in the spectator section in silence

Endeav and Mic are dotting up a storm lmao

oh my

ARE YOU GOING TO PROVIDE COMMENTARY

-- HE IS OMG

he says an event without commentary has no soul

brother I’m right there with ya. why do you think I even do this. we should go get kicked out of a movie theater together

All Might’s asking if they really need “soul”, and FUCKING DUH THEY DO, ALL MIGHT

oh shit he’s commandeered Mera’s microphone

I can’t believe this man is the fucking U.A. traitor. maybe. admittedly seeming less likely by the minute

anyways, now that Mic is gone, All Might is figuring he might as well get this awkward conversation over with

he says that he doesn’t really know what to say to Endeavor in his current state

Endeav is asking if All Might’s aware that over the past month the crime rate has risen by three percent

hmm. someone sucks at his current job of being number one, huh

oh no

is Endeavor

having character development

...

motherfuc...

shit

okay look. one, dude is basically a rapist, albeit in a manner that’s just barely society-approved. two, he beat his wife and child. and three, he then had his wife committed when she had a breakdown and never bothered to do anything to try to help her (and also, you know, he’s the one who caused said breakdown in the first place)

so just a reminder. that Endeavor. not a nice guy

...but. it’s a story. and if a character actually shows a desire and willingness to try and change... well. I’m not necessarily just going to dismiss it out of hand

but this motherfucker needs to show some remorse, though. otherwise, fuck that

so whatever, Endeavor. let’s see. I have a feeling this is going to be a long, arduous process, and it might not even pan out. but it’s interesting, at the very least. and so in that sense, I’m here for it. hell, I welcome it. after all, we sure as hell didn’t get too much complex character development in the previous arc, Nighteye aside. so this... this is good

BONUS:

lmaoooooo @ “likes beer” oh god. no salary in the world would ever be enough to compensate teachers for everything that they do and all the shit they have to put up with

the fact that she’s a newbie is apparent just at a glance. give her a year or two under her belt and I bet you anything her personality completely changes. teaching is basically baptism by fire. but she will eventually learn to improvise, adapt, and overcome. and she’ll probably be a lot more drunk too lmao

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zaraegis · 6 years

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Come at the King!au|Part 6|T

Fandom: Cuphead

Pairings: Ride or Die QPP Wheezy & Dice

TW: some small violence, being an Emotionally Mature Person and Apologizing

Notes: After the Events of Cuphead, everyone’s gotta deal with the aftermath

Prev| First |Next

After all the harrowing Casino fights and the loss of all the Inkwell Island soul contracts, Dice pauses only briefly before coming into the Devil's Office. He's a straightforward kind of guy, when he's not rigging everything he can in his favor. Dithering in front of a door because he lost horribly isn't his style.

The man himself is in there, ice pack on his head and a horn missing and the most pissed off Dice has seen.

His fur is matted around his eyes. Did those cups make him cry?

"YOU."

"Yes, boss?" Dice replies brightly, determined to not lose his own frayed temper over being beaten up terribly like some common civilian.

"Worthless lackey, why do I keep you around if you're not going to stop a couple of snot nosed brats from making off with whatever they want?" Ouch. But admittedly deserved .

Dice opened his mouth, already thinking of ways to spin this, even while being aware of his chipped head and unimpressive black eyes. His boss cuts him off, on a roll.

"I know what you can do Dice" The Devil's tone changes, something dark and knowing that makes his hackles rise, "What I want to know is why you didn't do everything in your power to stop them? Is this what you wanted? For the casino to become a laughingstock and-"

The knife that sprouts centimeters from the Devil's pointed ear chimes dully as it vibrates from the force. It's stuck fast through the layers of wood and cloth. The Devil can see his own angry red eyes in it's metal.

"Be very careful Boss." Dice quietly says in the sudden silence, hand still outstretched. "About what you say when you're letting your temper get the best of you."

The Devil feels his fury banking at a wave of wariness. He might not be up to another fight so soon, especially with someone as dangerous as his manager.

Dice, with a blank expression, reaches slowly into his suit and pull out a familiar creased paper. He sets it gently, terribly terribly gently, on the desk between them.

It's his contract.

Gut churning, the Devil will never admit he near jumped out of his skin as Dice slams one gloved hand besides it.

"If it pleases you Boss, I would like to remind you that my contract clearly states that you hired a manager, NOT a mercenary "OF SOME KIND"."

What used to be a passing joke between the two of them is now tarred with the contempt dripping from Dice as he near shouts the last bit.

The Devil has never heard King Dice raise his voice.

They stare each other down and Dice huffs and turns on his heel, shoulders stiff and contract left behind on the mahogany surface. Before he reaches the door the Devil speaks up behind him, voice quiet and tired.

"Are you quitting?"

"I dunno. Am I fired?" Dice shoots back. He doesn't bother to slam the door, point made.

Outside he's met with the wide eyes of the casino employees. He rolls his eyes and quietly commands: "To the staff lounge room with you all, there's a meeting."

They all disperse quickly, everyone silent and straining to hear any more noises from the imposing door to the Devil's office.

There's nothing.

"You all have the week off. Rest, and heal up. You'll get a bonus not to worry." He mentions when he sees Mangosteen open his mouth. "Hazard pay if nothing else."

He'll make sure of it, even if he's booted from his job.

"As for the souls... I wouldn't put it past those two brothers to come back up in a rage if we make anymore deals in the casino. But..." He smiles slyly, "Plenty o' people come round to make legitimate deals with the Devil for their souls. That's not something they can have a say in, I wager."

They're quiet and everyone is conspiciously NOT mentioning whatever they may have heard of him losing his temper. They're all quite decent coworkers really, compared to others he's had in the past.

He might miss them.

"What about the Big Boss, Mr. King Dice?" Chips finally pipes up, blunt and willing to say what everyone else is wondering. Dice very pointedly does not frown.

"He's...taking a break too I suppose. I'll check back up on him after this, to make sure." He idly glances at Pirouetta, the previous manager and closest to the Devil himself. She inclines her head at him.

It either means that yes, he should check up on his boss or yes, she will lay some lovely flowers on his grave. It's always fifty-fifty with her.

"-and Chips. It's just Dice now."

The silence got even more oppressive. Oh dear, that wasn't what he was going for. He shakes his shoulders out to soften his rigid stance and smiles ruefully.

"They sold their souls, and they beat all the Casino employees, myself and the Devil. That means my title is theirs now." It stung more than he thought it would, saying it outloud.

Nearly half his life's accomplishment, gone in the wind.

Chips is picking at the lasso he keeps at his hip, worrying the frayed strands and not looking up as he mutters.

"That's gonna be mighty strange. Ain't callin' no two bit bums off the street Kings though." Pip and Dot make assenting noises.

Dice feels Wheezy's absense keenly at this moment.

"Don't worry boss," Hopus cackles, it's really the only way he talks, "You'll always be the king of my 'eart!"

They all break into hooting and hollering and raucous laughter and Dice actually guffaws at their ridiculousness. The tension fractures at that and they all begin chatting with the same ease as the day before.

Pirouetta comes up to him, a tellingly reserved air about her. "Wheezy won't be joining us today?"

It's said casually, but her eyes lock onto his and Dice feels his shoulders straighten back up.

"Yes." He answers finally, not allowing himself to look away. "I got some apologies to make first though."

Pirouetta nods sharply at him and he feels like he dodged a bullet. Before she swans off, he gently catches her elbow.

"You wouldn't happen to know where I can get some cinnamon would you?"

She smiles.

He does stop back at the Boss's office. It's empty and dark. One of the imps that hangs around tells him the Devil's gone to ground back to Hell.

Where mortals like Dice can't tread. Typical.

Oh well. He'll give him a week before Dice storms the Underworld after his wayward employer.

He's got some apology breakfast to make.

"Hey."

Wheezy startles at the sudden voice in his suite where previously he thought he was alone. Dice sidles up to him and sits besides him on the sofa. He doesn't turn to look from where he's cradling the little beat up cigar demons in his lap.

He'd never been one of the casino fighters before. Always the one to stand back and watch Dice make mincemeat out of anyone who thought they could win back their contract. Always the one to help patch everything and everybody up.

The little guys were the Devil's, but Wheezy took care of them, kept their little flames flickering and swept the ashes they left everywhere.

It was easier than he thought to fight. Even young ones like those cups. The adrenaline pumping made his reservations about violence wick away and he found it so easy to spit out the fire he's held back since he knew what those flames could do as a child.

That frightened him more than anything.

"So. You might be right about the winning thing."

He turned slightly, to show he was listening.

Dice looked at him, not allowing himself to obfuscate or hem and haw around his apology.

" 'm sorry, Wheeze. I shouldn't have kicked you because I got mad at someone else." He huffs out a breath. Does it make Wheezy a terrible person that he enjoys the pained grimace on his friend's face? Probably. But it does make him feel better.

"I won't do it again."

"Won't you?" Wheezy quietly asked. Finally turning to see Dice, serious and beat up.

"I'll show you. I won't."

Wheezy presses their shoulders together. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah. You look ridiculous by the way, have you iced your face?"

Dice pulled a face, "I had to go throw a knife at our Boss this morning, ain't had time."

"What?!"

Dice waves him off, "Don't worry it didn't even scratch him."

Wheezy is well out of his funk now, jolted into familiar exasperated worry. Why was his friend such a blockhead?

Dice squinted suspiciously at him, and opened his mouth to call out Wheezy on the blockhead comment he could probably feel when they were interrupted by a knock.

Mangosteen popped his head in, hilariously too big to fit in entirely in the doorway without ducking. "We've got the stuff boss."

Dice jumped up and made his way to Wheezy's kitchen, Wheezy incredulously as the entirety of the casino staff paraded into his suite carrying a bevy of delicious smelling dishes to the dining table.

"What is all this?"

"Breakfast," Dice exclaimed, way too satisfied for someone still missing a tooth, and started rolling up his sleeves.

Wheezy had to give in when Pirouetta stopped at his side and raised a single eyebrow.

Breakfast sounded good.

"I was always afraid you know," He tells Dice, in the aftermath of breakfast. They're washing dishes while everyone else seems reluctant to leave, lounging around his living room and exclaiming on the goings on of Hell out the window.

"Of what?" Dice questions, both of them slowly getting used to one another again in the wake of their not-fight.

Wheezy shrugs. "Someone coming after you while I was there. Me not being able to do anything about it really."

He really wasn't prepared for one of his worst fears coming true in the most spectacular fashion. He had to watch some upstarts beat up his friend and know there was nothing at all he could do.

He just. Wasn't enough.

He wonders if Dice lives with this fear, all the time. Fear of his past catching up to him, clever deal with the Devil or no.

Dice stops and looks down at the cup he's scrubbing. Idly turning it this way and that.

"I think," he starts slowly,"That you might be the only one to want to have my back when they do come for me."

He looks up, the lighting making his face seem haunted,"Thank you."

Wheezy doesn't know if Dice realizes he always says "when" and not "if" while referring to his past. Like it was inevitable and the Devil himself could only stall it despite everything.

That was too much for Wheezy to think about right now.

"Well," He clears his throat and everyone else’s conversation filters in between them once again. "At least this whole mess is over with now, ey?"

Dice laughs and lets the cup sink down into warm soapy water.

The first hitman finds him the next morning.

#cuphead #king dice #the devil #mr wheezy #pirouetta #chips bettigan #my fanfic tag #come at the king!au #i remembered i had this so i fleshed it out!#laughs evilly #previous merc!dice likes the devil #but something he still won't let stand #also to this day he carries various daggers and knives on his person At All Times #watch out for that

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lilsum4 · 7 years

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Fic: Close Encounters of the Invisible Kind, Chapter 8

I’m back, risen from the ashes of 2016 to most likely be an even worse updater in 2017, but I can try to be better!

So here you go, hopefully a cheerful start to a crappy week. This is only lightly proofread, as I didn’t want to hold it up longer. Excuse any typos; I’ll be fixing them throughout the week.

Find previous parts here.

Here we go....

The bummer of it is, Mickey doesn't like her.

Rose's reticence has rubbed off on him. In the short time he's been onboard, it isn't uncommon for him to look around himself suspiciously when alone. (Donna hadn't helped matters by writing a friendly, misty "Right behind you!" at him last time he looked in a mirror.)

Donna isn't one to have to have everyone like her, but it just seems unfair that she can't even make an honest effort to win someone over.

And so, in a bit of harmless pique, Donna has decided to spend the day draped over Mickey's shoulders like a cape. It amuses her as he tows her around unknowingly. Because hey, when you're dead you take your entertainment where you can.

Rose calls out to Mickey from somewhere in the depths of the TARDIS and he speeds up his pace. Donna allows herself to billow behind him and keeps up an unheard monologue on how he really shouldn't be so closed-minded and should give resident ghosts a chance. It's only funnier when he shudders with a sudden chill – but he's too new to the TARDIS to realize he's personally being haunted. Seems like Rose and the Doctor had forgotten to mention the very important tidbit of what it actually felt like to have Donna cling on. To Donna's delight, he hasn't caught on that, as he peers cautiously into a dark corner, she's actually fluttering right behind him, clipped to his shoulders.

Mickey arrives at the library where the Doctor is helpfully piling books into Rose's arms. The Doctor looks up at his entrance just in time to catch Mickey brush at his shoulder and give in to an all-body shudder.

"Oh, there you are! I've been wondering where you've been!"

Mickey is shyly pleased that the Doctor seems so glad to see him. "Oh, well, I was exploring the–"

The Doctor looks a bit startled that Mickey is speaking to him, before brushing him off with a wave of his hand, "Oh, no, Rickey Mickety Mick, I wasn't talking to you."

Donna abandons Mickey and rushes over to clap a freezing hand over the Doctor's lips. "You hush - don't ruin my fun!"

"Haven't heard from you almost all day," wonders the Doctor, rudely ignoring that Donna is covering his mouth. "Thought you were off stealing Rose's mascara again. "

"I knew it!" yells Rose, at the same time that Donna protests, "I haven't…lately!"

Mickey realizes to whom the Doctor is speaking and he takes a few hurried steps back. "Oh god, the ghost is here, isn't it?"

Donna gives a resigned little sigh. "I'm not an 'it'. See, you scared him. I didn't want him to know," she mourns, draping herself over the Doctor much as she had over Mickey. "He doesn't like me, you know."

The Doctor pats his shoulder in consolation, correctly guessing her hand is there. "Nonsense! Of course he likes you. You like Donna, don't you, Mickey?"

Rose is suddenly fascinated by the top volume on Sock Styles of the 27th Clom Dynasty. She buries her nose deeper in the first few pages as Mickey hems and haws. a bit wild 'round the eyes. "Err, yeah! Ghosts – cool and not terrifying at all! Nothing bad ever happens from having dead people floating around."

Donna wilts over the Doctor, a gloomy shroud. The fact that there is no wry retort from her means that she's actually hurt. The Doctor frowns thunderously at Mickey before forcing out a, "See! One big happy family. All right, let's focus on Clom. Lovely cheerful Clom with the largest-ever amusement park. They have a roller coaster that drops 1000 feet. 1000 feet! 305 meters, it's a marvel more malfunctions haven't happened. We're likely due for one any day. Mickey, we'll make sure you get to go on that first! Now, Rose has the volume on…"

Donna drifts away, a little metaphorical black cloud, leaving them to it. She shouldn't care that Mickey doesn't like her. Shouldn't care that they get to go to Clom without her. She has more than enough, here on the TARDIS.

But she does care, more and more every day. She sinks down through the floor, to hide in the depths of the ship even the Doctor doesn't know about.

The Doctor senses her go as he scans the room under furrowed brows.

They don't make it to Clom, surprise surprise. They end up in an abandoned spaceship, and Rose and Mickey are almost harvested for parts.

Rose would be angrier about this if the the Doctor didn't look so exhausted. Hollow. And cold. Colder than Rose has ever seen him.

She and Mickey trail after him through the dead ship, both silent. She wracks her brain for the right thing to say and, finding nothing, can only follow his bowed back.

He veers away suddenly, dips into a corridor, and emerges leading Arthur, the horse placidly clip-clopping behind him.

"I thought I said 'no' to the horse," Rose teases, glad for an opportunity to break the quiet.

She expects another quip about Mickey, but the Doctor drifts past her towards the TARDIS doors. "Donna will like him. It's no good to feel alone."

Rose has even less to say to that.

"YOU GOT ME A PONY!" Donna shrieks, upon being presented with her gift.

She's twirling around the doctor like a streamer in the wind, too excited to settle, though a fingertip drifts over his shoulders so he can hear her delight.

Arthur's ear swivel back and his dark, liquid eyes track her movement.

Donna squeals. She flies forward, back and around Arthur, amazed as the horse shimmies nervously, head swiveling to track her. "YOU GOT ME A PSYCHIC PONY!" she amends, in an even more ear-piercing volume, forcing the Doctor to stick a finger in the ear she shouted in.

"Is he?" he queries.

"Yes, he can see me!" enthuses Donna, and swoops right round to hug her new horse. In her glee she misjudges, passes right through Arthur. The horse neighs uncomfortably, but Donna comes in for a second try, managing to throw her arms around his neck, cooing.

Arthur shies back a bit before figuring she can't do much harm, and settles back to nose at the Doctor's pockets.

After an adequate amount of telling Arthur how he's the most handsome, smartest, nicest, most gifted horse in the whole wide universe, Donna seems satisfied.

"Come along, Milo!" Donna urges, one hand on the horse's ear and one on the Doctor.

"His name's Arthur," corrects the Doctor.

"Seabiscuit."

"Arthur," he reiterates.

"Harry Plodder!" she exclaims.

"Arth– okay, I like that one."

Mickey and Rose hang well back, watching Doctor and Horse being led away by invisible hands.

"So, he got the ghost a horse," observes Mickey.

"Seems like," nods Rose.

"Nobody finds that weird."

"I find it weird," mutters Rose.

"Where do you think they're going?" Mickey wants to know.

"Wherever Donna wants them to go, I suspect."

"Damn, it somehow got creepier," shivers Mickey.

"I agree," sighs Rose. She's not scared of Donna anymore, and hasn't been for a very long time. But it doesn't seem right to her that the Doctor is so attached to someone who is dead. That can't possibly be healthy.

They follow at a distance, until they come to a fork that veers away from wherever horse and ghost and Time Lord are heading. Their presence, or lack thereof, is completely unnoticed by either Donna or the Doctor, as Donna focuses on coming up with increasingly ridiculous names for Arthur, and the Doctor focuses on Donna's joy.

Rose glances back, once, and sees the Doctor turn to argue with Donna, a smile on his face. First smile since they left Madame de Pompadour behind.

The TARDIS has constructed a lush green field for Arthur – or Harry Plodder, depending whom you ask – with a quaint, cheerful stable at one end. Off in the green grass he sees the horse step high in a spirited dance with an unseen friend. The Doctor imagines Donna swooping in and out between the horse's legs, or clinging to his back when Arthur takes off on a gallop into the distance, wheeling about and returning, to bow is head and accept a ghostly pat to the head.

Some days have passed now since Arthur's arrival, and the Doctor's been spending a lot of his time out here in the field, watching (picturing) Donna play with her new horse. The country sun beats overhead and the heat relaxes the tension in his shoulders, making a rainy funeral procession in Renaissance France seem far away indeed.

Rustling beside him has him opening his eyes to see Rose settling comfortably on the grass at his side.

"It looks like he's dancing!" laughs Rose, gazing off at Arthur, who's back to performing high-spirited side-steps.

He smiles, happy to share in her laughter, and leans back on his elbows, legs crossing at the ankle.

They sit in companionable silence for a bit, before he thinks to ask, "Where's Mickey?"

"He didn't want to come out here when Donna's here. That is her playing with Arthur, right?"

"I think she's training him," grins the Doctor. "For what, I'm not quite sure."

Rose digests this information, glances sideways at him and observes his fond gaze, settled on a horse and its invisible trainer. She says, very carefully, "Doctor. I'm worried about you."

The Doctor turns surprised eyes at her. "Whyever for?"

"Y–you seem to be...you and Donna...You seem to spend too much time with Donna."

The Doctor looks away. "Who else does she have, after all, to interact with?"

Rose makes a frustrated sound. "I don't know. The TARDIS? Her new horse? Doctor…Donna's dead. Is it really safe to get so attached? I don't think she's meant to be here."

The Doctor's silence is heavy, and when he finally turns back to Rose, she shrinks back at the alienness of his gaze. "Dear child," he says, and his voice drops its cheerful pretense to sound deep and mysterious as an ancient ocean, too old for a besotted Rose to comprehend. It makes her feel very small and inconsequential. "None of you are meant to be here. All of you leave."

"No," chokes out Rose. "I can stay here with you. I want to. Forever."

"Your forever is a blink of an eye to me, Rose. A beat of my hearts," he reminds her, not unkindly. "Humans aren't meant to have more. And one day you'll want to live out your version of forever with someone who can share it with you."

Rose's eyes are blurry with tears, at the reminder of her mortality. At his unwillingness to even try. Even if she doesn't understand the depths of him now, she could grow to. Can't he be willing to play in the shallows with her until she can?

"But you think a ghost can give you your kind of forever?"

The Doctor pretends to not see her tears, just as Rose pretends to not hear the resolve in his voice. "I think Donna belongs…belongs in the TARDIS perhaps more than anyone else. She is someone who has nothing left to lose, staying here with me."

"And I do?"

"Oh Rose. Yes. Your whole life. Your family. Your world. The future, brilliant you."

"I don't care about those things! I care about you! Don't you care about me?"

It's a strike to his hearts, how naive she is. When he'd give anything, anything, to have his family, and the future of Gallifrey, back.

But it's clear from her tear-streaked face that this isn't what Rose wants to hear right now and, besides, the Doctor doesn't want to continue this conversation.

He's loved all his companions – perhaps not in the manner some wanted to be loved – but he loved them in his own way, nonetheless. Few times he'd been tempted to try for something more, Reinette being the latest. She'd waited for him for a lifetime, when he'd popped in and out of her life just a few minutes at a time. And in the end, when he'd turned right around and walked through that fireplace to go back to her…he had ended up watching her funeral procession instead. Her life had been spent forever waiting.

Oh how brief their lives were. A handful of minutes. A walk through a fireplace. Mayflies.

Rose continues to wait for his answer, chin trembling and more tears welling in her eyes. These children, always so willing to wait and waste their precious minutes on him.

He has no answer for her that will please her, so instead he pats her hand and eases to his feet, saying nothing. All the tension the sunny field had eased has returned. He walks away from her and towards a dancing horse and a playful ghost.

He's a few strides to the homely stable, where he can see Arthur munching on some feed, when an unexpected voice makes him jump.

"We should get him a friend," Donna muses, suddenly at his ear.

"Arthur?"

"Sure, Arthur," responds Donna, a wry edge to her voice.

"You're his friend," he points out, quietly.

"I'm dead," she says flatly. "He needs another horse around so he can have horse conversations about horse things."

"Horse conversations," repeats the Doctor, bone dry.

"Yeah, you know. Things only another horse would appreciate. Horses he can have horse adventures with."

The Doctor has the sneaking suspicion they aren't talking about Arthur at all.

"You're being ridiculous," he declares, and proceeds into the stable.

"I'm being ridiculous," scoffs Donna, a faint whisper to his left, but leaves it at that, and so he's grateful.

He breathes in the scent of fresh hay and clean horse. His converse sink into the hay strewn on the floor and he rocks back and forth, enjoying the crunch.

Arthur lifts his head and eyes him from his open stall, as though saying What are you doing all the way over there, and not over here paying attention to me.

"Go pet him, you big lump, don't be rude!" admonishes Donna. He does so, stepping up to stroke the horse's silky mane. Arthur gives him a regal nod, as though it's his due. "Tell him it's from me," Donna commands.

"What, the petting?" the Doctor asks, incredulous.

"Yes the petting! I can't really touch him, you know. I want him to know I would pet him if I could."

The Doctor rolls his eyes and brings up his other hand, stroking the horse's forehead as well. "That's from Donna," he intones dutifully. Arthur doesn't seem to care less, but Donna is pleased.

"Okay, now give him that apple in your pocket."

He doesn't know how she knows he's carrying an apple in his left trouser pocket, and doesn't quite want to ask. That apple's been in there for a good 15 years.

But he fishes the apple out, as fresh as the day he plucked it from a king's banquet table, and offers it to the horse.

"Wait! Tell him it's from me, too!"

"It's my apple," the Doctor grumbles, then informs the horse, "This is from Donna, too." Arthur delicately lips the apple from his hand and butts the Doctor with his nose once in a quick thanks.

"See, even though they were both from me, he's thanking you for it," murmurs Donna.

The Doctor wipes his hand on his trouser leg and leans back against the wall, watching Arthur return to his oats. "He's just a horse, Donna."

"He's a horse who appreciates someone who can touch him and give him the things he needs to be happy."

The Doctor tips his head back in resignation, a dull thunk resounding as it rests against the wooden wall. "Oh Rassilon, this isn't about Arthur, is it. You heard my conversation with Rose."

Donna's presence is a bit of cold air against his shoulder, a tentative grasp of spectral fingers against his own. "Rose wasn't wrong, Doctor."

"About what? Wanting to stay here with me forever? You're the one who pointed out she wants more from me than I can give her, Donna."

"No, no. About me being just a ghost."

"You're not 'just' anything Donna! You're unique – in the whole wide Universe I've never –"

"But I am just a ghost. Dead. My time is over and, but for some quirk or delay in the afterlife processing center, I'm here," she cuts him off ruthlessly.

"But you like it here, Donna. You said you wanted to stay," his tone is almost pleading.

"I love it here in the TARDIS, and being your friend. I never thought I'd get to talk to anyone ever again. But I don't know why I'm here, or how long I'll be allowed to stay. And besides you need…you'll always need someone to see and touch and share biscuits with and plan adventures with. If not Rose because she wants to get into your precious skinny trousers, then someone who'll just be your mate."

"I do have companions, Donna. I've always had them," he reminds her brusquely.

"And yet you never let them too close. You'd rather spend your free time with me. And don't get me wrong, I lov– I really appreciate it – but you need more."

She adds quietly, a whisper of winter breeze on his cheek, "You need someone to pet your forehead and feed you apples."

He smiles in response, but it's a sad quirk of lips. "I prefer bananas."

Donna pinches his arm, though he feels little more than a brush of cobwebs against his wrist. "Just think on it," she commands, and is suddenly gone – with the Doctor none the wiser how much that conversation had cost her – floating away from him and leaving him alone with a horse who eyes his other pocket in case he's hiding more apples.

He does think on it.

They travel to an alternate universe, and Mickey turns out to be so much more brave than the Doctor ever gave him credit for. After leaving Mickey behind to take on a new mantle, he's down one companion in the TARDIS. Rose begins demanding more of his attention once more.

So he thinks about how often he left Rose and Mickey alone to their own devices so he could go talk to Donna instead. Thinks about how used he's become to feeling her hover over his bed, watchful on those rare times when he gives in to sleep, or a welcome distraction when he needs conversation in the wake of nightmares. Thinks about how he's come to expect the feeling of a ghostly hand in his hair. Thinks about the pleasure he feels when the TARDIS sometimes giggles for no reason, and he knows it's because Donna is joking around with the only other being who is truly aware of her.

Thinks about that evening he spent slowly turning the pages of books Donna picked out, because she couldn't turn the pages herself. He had no interest in The Viking and the Maiden, but it was either that or read aloud to her and she'd burst out laughing the first time he'd said "turgid manhood".

Thinks about how much he'd enjoyed that evening – and how he had no clue what Rose had been doing in the meanwhile.

And then he thinks about Rose.

Rose, who pulled him out of a bitter darkness; a breath of carefree air when he'd needed it most.

Whom he, in turn, had plucked out of a boring life, barely past adolescence and with no real experience in the world. And of course she'd been dazzled by him – it's what he'd wanted, what he'd needed after only seeing a monster when he looked in the mirror. So what had he really expected, in the end, for her to feel for him?

Rose, who never said no to any of his most harebrained ideas, and was only too willing to follow him into disaster for a joke and the promise a good time.

With each successive adventure it's become clearer to him, as he abandons Rose once more upon returning to the TARDIS, that Rose and Donna are both right. He'd rather spend time with Donna when in the TARDIS, but he depends too much on Rose's hero worship to bolster him through each horrible decision he makes. It's not fair to Rose, and likely keeping her from becoming the wonderful, independent person he glimpses slumbering within her.

He needs a companion who will temper his growing overconfidence, an equal, and one who he can share with openly on the TARDIS without fear of them wanting more than he can give.

But he's not ready to let go of Rose; even if it's for her own good. She's like a comfortable security blanket that he's yet unwilling to discard. And after all, he argues with Donna, suitable companions are hard to find.

Donna argues back that he should have a candid talk with Rose, explain how he really feels and let Rose decide her own future.

The very idea of that type of conversation makes him break out in hives.

Soon, he thinks to himself, next time Rose gives him a toothy smile and links hands with him before they take off running. Soon.

Until the choice is taken out of everyone's hands.

"I lost her, Donna. She was so brave," he sobs, clinging to the console.

The TARDIS is glowing a muted green, mirroring the Doctor's distress. Donna had had no time to figure out what had happened, only that the Doctor had tumbled, distraught, through the door. "What? Rose?! She – she died?" Donna whispers, clutching his shoulder.

The question seems to give him strength, and he sniffs before straightening. "No. No, she's okay. In the alternate world, with Mickey and her mum and her dad. She's fine."

"Oh. but that's – that's good, right?" ventures Donna, haltingly.

The Doctor nods. Donna watches him struggle for composure. "She's fine. She'll be fine," he repeats to himself.

He turns away, giving all appearance of being in control once more, until he spies the cheap purple jacket slung carelessly over a rail. He freezes. Donna frets, following as he slowly makes his way to the jacket. When he touches the imitation leather, his features crumble.

"I just wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to lose her yet. I lose them all. I've lost so many." He grips the jacket, knuckles white with the force, and Donna wishes – not for the first time – that she could truly hold his hand.

"And I never told her," the Doctor continues, shoulders shaking, "I was going to. I thought I had time! Tell her how much she helped me. She was silly and young and brave and I needed that after…after the Time War."

Because she never saw your faults, thinks Donna. Which would have been terribly unhealthy for both of them in the long run. The Doctor's inability to return Rose's feelings would also have certainly soured the relationship as time passed. But the Doctor knew all this already, and had procrastinated in facing the issue – in telling Rose what she really meant to him and giving her the choice to lead her life as she thought best. How awful he must feel now.

There's nothing she can say to comfort him, no way to even offer him the warmth of a hug. Donna slides away from him and up to the TARDIS' central column, hugging it tight as it pulses consolingly at Donna and the Doctor.

She watches the Doctor grieve and feels as useless as ever.

In the end, the Doctor decides he needs closure. A chance to tell Rose how much she had helped him, the chance to wish her happiness. He'd lost companions before without getting an opportunity to do so, but this time he has a plan.

It's a stupid plan, Donna thinks, if she knew anything about how tearful confessions went, but well, no one had asked her.

So here they are, Donna watching a breaking Rose standing upon a windy beach. The Doctor's sad attempt at well-wishing devolves into a lecture on the dangers of hopping dimensions. Donna scratches her head in confusion. Where are all the "you were a wonderful companion, top notch; I wish you the best, have a great summer" speeches he had rehearsed? This is already going downhill.

And much as she anticipates, halfway through the Doctor's fumbling not-really-saying-anything-noteworthy, Rose's weeping face proves to be too much.

"I love you," the agonized words escape Rose.

Donna winces. Oh jeez, there's no good options here. Either the Doctor says he loves her back – whether it's a lie or not – and Rose feels like she lost her one true love. Or he says something stupid like "Thanks!" or "I do too, like a brother would!" and just comes off as a jerk. Or…

He comes up with his own, spectacularly stupid option.

He says "Right you are" like the biggest git, and then waffles about and admits nothing in an attempt to run out the clock! Leaving the poor girl with the lifelong doubt about what he might ever had said.

Donna claps both her hands over her face in horror at this trainwreck happening in front of her. The Doctor has fucked up so royally, she'd die of second-hand embarrassment if she weren't already dead.

She doesn't even have the satisfaction of tearing the Doctor a new one for his idiocy because – as he deliberately closes the transmission before he can actually say anything binding – he looks as dejected and guilty as ever.

Sensing her disapproval, he growls out an "I don't want to hear it, Donna," continuing to stare fixedly at the controls. Donna gives him the finger, even if she does feel a bit bad about how guilty he looks. Surely he knows how badly he screwed that up.

However, she doesn't want to leave the Doctor alone and so sad, even if he deserves a fist to the eye. She floats up to the TARDIS column, making soft soothing noises and giving careful little pats to the glowing pillar. It's trembling from the effort at creating a temporary bridge between dimensions, and Donna feels bad for her.

It's because her hands are on the blue column of energy that she feels the minute shift, from exhausted trembling to manic buzzing.

"Wha–" she begins, and turns to scan the console room.

To notice the bride standing by the doors, seemingly frozen in confusion.

"Er…" she says eloquently, drifting down to place a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. She'd rather not disturb the Doctor in his grief. And yet, he probably really should notice that…

Wait. Wait wait wait.

"That's...that's my bloody dress!"

She'd forgotten that she had a hold of the Doctor, and he jumps at her shout.

"What is your problem!" he growls, whirling, then stumbling to a slack-jawed stop when he sees the stranger in his TARDIS.

At his voice, the bride turns to face them, looking around with spooked eyes. When she spies the Doctor by the console, the woman opens her mouth in one gaping "oh" and let out a high, unending shriek of fright.

Donna's grip on the Doctor would have been painful if it had substance. "Holy crap! NERYS?!"

"You recognize her?" shouts the Doctor over the loud shrieking.

"Yes, that's my so-called 'best' friend wearing the dress I had dibs on, from Chez Alison! The cheek!" She tries her mightiest to tug the Doctor towards her ex-bestie, but doesn't kid herself that it's her grip that propels the Doctor forward.

Nerys scrambles back from the approaching Doctor, pressing herself against the TARDIS doors. The shriek climbs another octave.

"Do you know how to make her stop screaming?" he asks Donna, giving up trying to placate the woman and instead plugging his ears.

"You want to go over there and explain to her that the ghost of her friend is telling her to calm down? You think that's gonna work?"

He grimaces, conceding the point.

Nerys is well and truly freaking out, as well she should be suddenly finding herself in a strange room with a strange man, when it looks like she had been heading to her wedding, instead.

Donna steels herself and floats over, making shushing noises that she knows her frenemy can't see or hear. "Not that I blame you, Nerys dear, but you truly must shut up," complains Donna.

To her surprise, Nerys does stop. Not because she heard Donna, but because she's starting to hyperventilate, in the throes of a panic attack.

"Oh, that won't do," claims the Doctor into the sudden silence. "Here, breathe in this." He digs a paper bag out of his pocket and advances on Nerys, who springs away from him, her breath coming in and out in labored gasps.

"Nerys, you're going to make yourself pass out," Donna chides, reaching out to pat her friend on the arm.

And immediately gets sucked into her.

Donna reels, suddenly trapped within flesh, the mass of it pulling her down. Sensing she's no longer alone inside her brain, Nerys hides in a corner of her psyche and locks herself away, happy to no longer be in control of this nightmare.

She blinks, stops wheezing, and thunks to the floor, letting Nerys' legs give way beneath her. She feels like she weighs a ton. It's very different being in sole control of a body as opposed to just a passenger, as she had been with Rose. She can't seem to control any of these ungainly limbs. She looks up at the Doctor, who's approaching cautiously with the bag once more.

"There there, loud lady," he's saying, pleased that she no longer looks ready to pass out and finally was listening to him. "That's right, just be quiet and let's get to the bottom of this. Who are you and how did you get on my ship?"

Donna opens Nerys' mouth, closes it again. Feels around with a strange tongue around strange teeth, and forces saliva down a strange throat. Everything takes so much effort.

"Doc-torr," Donna forms the word carefully, the feeling of a tongue curling around teeth and palate a novel one. She startles at the sound of her voice. Does Nerys really sound like that? God, it's awful!

The Doctor stops advancing abruptly. The disbelief he feels at finding a stranger on his ship turns abruptly into distrust. "How do you know me? Who sent you!"

"It's - it's...me. Don-na." The control is coming to her mouth faster now. Of course it would; she'd always been a talker.

The Doctor blinks. "Donna?" He reaches out tentatively and presses a finger to her arm, as though making sure she's not some figment of his imagination. "What did you do!"

"Don't know," she responds, moving her limbs slowly, testing out the ungainly feel of them. "I went to … to touch her hand and I was just …sucked into her."

She tries to clamber to her feet but can't quite remember how legs work. "Help me up, yeah."

He reaches down cautiously and helps her to her feet. She stands swaying for a moment, almost goes down again but the Doctor is handy at catching her and righting her back, before she gets the hang of her new center of balance. Reasonably stable, she looks down at her skinny frame.

The neckline of the dress is a low-cut V, and displays Nerys' chest to full advantage (which is why Donna had picked it, it was her dress, she'd called dibs, damn it!). Ever curious, she pokes at the top of her left breast, feeling it jiggle under the skin. "Aha! I KNEW IT!"

The Doctor follows her motions with his eyes, confused about …well, about everything, but at the moment more confused as to why Donna was feeling up her friend. "Knew what?"

"Knew they were fake! You don't drop down to this weight without losing some boob. 'Long holiday in America' my arse!" she pokes the other breast with grim satisfaction, before looking up to find the Doctor frowning down at Nerys' cleavage.

"Oi!" She snaps her fingers under his nose, making him jerk his head up. "Don't stare at my… Nerys' breasts!"

"I'm not - you stop that!" he reprimands, slapping her hand away as she goes in for another poke. "You need to get out of there. She's not your body to use, and I have to figure out why she's here," he warns, watching Donna twist her hips and wave her arms experimentally.

"Don't lecture me! I know that - and I didn't mean to; it just happened! I wanted to stop her screaming, not possess her." She glares a bit, and runs her hands over the silk of the dress just one more time, to enjoy the feeling of it on her fingertips. "No need to fret, I'm leaving now, so don't get your knickers in a twist. You better plug your ears though, 'cos when I'm gone she's gonna go right back to screaming."

She would have liked to hug the Doctor, she realizes only a second too late. She's never done that before, and she'll never get the chance again. She could really use one, too. She almost opens her mouth to ask for a hug, but discards the idea as stupid. Besides, he's backing up to a safe distance, and raising the paper bag in case he needs to swoop in again.

Hiding the trembling of her lips – goodbye substance – she pushes hard against Nerys' skin.

It's like hitting concrete, or being wrapped in a straightjacket. One made of bones, muscles and skin. The happy novelty of Nerys' body morphs into dread. She's trapped, in this heavy, foreign cage of flesh.

"I can't get out!" she wails. She pushes again, harder, and Nerys' body only stumbles forward. Wild, she reaches towards the Doctor. "Come here, help me!"

"What?!" he exclaims, edging closer again. "How?"

"Grab on to my hands," Donna instructs. The Doctor does so, gripping her cold, skinny fingers. With his grip on her, Donna tries to attach to the Doctor and pull herself out.

She doesn't budge.

Donna panics. "It's not working! Doctor, I don't want to be stuck in Nerys, of all people! She's a million times worse than Rose!"

"Rose?!" echoes the Doctor's startled squawk . "When were you inside Rose?! How!"

"Oh that's right, you don't remember. That time at the game station? I was in there with her. You snogged me out of her."

"WHAT! I did not!"

"You sure did! Snogged me right and proper, like a hoover vacuum you were."

"I...that was...I didn't...how?!" he splutters, hands shooting to his hair.

"When she took the Tardis inside her, she caught me, too. I convinced her to stop using the TARDIS and let you help. Little did I know that you were gonna 'help' with your big ol' mouth!" His absolute embarrassment helps her temper the panic. It really is delightful seeing him so befuddled. Why hadn't she told him this earlier?

The Doctor stares, wheels turning. He hadn't, had he?! Regeneration played havoc on the brain, but if he concentrated hard he could almost remember, almost picture those mysterious eyes, sad and lonely, looking into his.

Donna snickers while he turns various shades of red, before the severity of the situation brings her back down. "No but really, I don't think that's gonna do it this time, and I can't get out."

He sighs, the memory of that gaze dissipating. "You can't normally take over people, can you?"

Donna is walking over to a coral strut, wrapping her hands around it and trying to get the TARDIS to pull her out instead. There's nothing – no sense of connection to tether her back to the ship.

"No, I go right through them. I was only in Rose because she pulled the TARDIS into her, and I'm linked to the TARDIS. You fishing the heart of the TARDIS out pulled me out, too." She pushes a sweaty strand of blond hair off her forehead, then raises a hand to her gaze with a little gasp – she's just noticed that Nerys' nails are painted a bright red. How tacky! On her wedding day!? She would have never let Nerys make such a bad decision!

"Then something's drawn Nerys here, and you into Nerys, and once we figure out what it is we can pull you back out," concludes the Doctor.

"So I'm stuck in her in the meanwhile? Because she's no help at all – just blubbering off somewhere in the corner of her mind," Donna scoffs, with a roll of her eyes. "Classic Nerys!"

The Doctor scrubs a hand down his chin, looking at his new temporary companion. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, yippee," she responds, with a sarcastic twirl of a tacky red-tipped finger, and then pokes at Nerys' left breast again to watch it bounce.

to be continued

#Doctor Who fanfiction #close encounters of the invisible kind #ten/donna #lilac summers fanfic

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theconservativebrief · 6 years

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Every week, Vox critic at large Todd VanDerWerff and culture writer Karen Han get together to discuss the latest episode of NBC’s loopy comedy The Good Place. This week, they’re discussing the sixth episode of the third season, “The Ballad of Donkey Doug.” (Because the first two episodes aired as one installment, the episode number is one ahead of the number of weeks the show has aired.) Spoilers follow! Proceed with caution if you haven’t seen the episode!

Karen Han: While watching “The Ballad of Donkey Doug,” I was reminded of what Todd said a couple weeks ago about the early part of the season, in that it seemed like The Good Place was going to have to put on its running shoes and sprint in order to ever surpass the high bar it had previously set for itself, and shake off the relatively slow start to the season. While “The Ballad of Donkey Doug” actually made me tear up — and laugh out loud more than once — I’m not sure it reflected the show hitting the stride that we thought it would.

That the gang is split up into smaller groups isn’t as much of a sore spot here as it was in previous episodes (Eleanor, Chidi, and Janet go one way; Tahani, Jason, and Michael go another), but not having everyone together still slows down the action. Watching Eleanor and Chidi workshop how Chidi could break up with Simone was both sad and hysterical (who hasn’t had to deal with that kind of anxiety?) but it felt like filler to me. Removing Simone from the equation seemed designed to inch the season’s plot forward while keeping Eleanor and Chidi in the episode, as Jason’s journey to help Donkey Doug — who was revealed to be his dad — allowed the episode to meet its moral development quota.

Or maybe I’m still adjusting to the fact that The Good Place has fundamentally altered its characters’ motivation. Now that they can’t get into the Good Place, more of their energy is directed toward helping other people, rather than toward their own self-improvement.

Then again, that’s why Jason’s storyline works. It’s the deepest dive the show has taken into his past to date, and, like Chidi’s break-up, though all the Florida insanity is funny, it’s semi-tragic, too. I mean, the fact that Jason calls his dad Donkey Doug stems not from how dope the nickname is but from the fact that his dad doesn’t really dig the idea of taking on a father’s responsibility.

I feel like my conflicting emotions about the episode are driving me into Chidi “I’ve made my decision, I want … to start crying” territory. Todd, maybe you had a little more success in parsing it all out.

Here’s another photo of Tahani, though Michael is also in this one. Colleen Hayes/NBC

Todd VanDerWerff: “The Ballad of Donkey Doug,” so far as I can tell, represents The Good Place’s new status quo. Instead of being about its characters trying to help themselves, it’s now going to be about them trying to help their other loved ones, the better to help said loved ones avoid the Bad Place. Which isn’t bad as a premise for trapping everyone on Earth, even if it kinda leaves Michael and Janet without a lot to do. (Janet makes up for it by saying, “Bing!” every time she does something, because she misses her sound effects so.)

That may be why the Chidi side of this episode, which I would agree wasn’t on the same level as the Jason side of the episode, felt a little extraneous. Yeah, we probably need to know what happens to Simone, but I’m not sure an entire B-plot was necessary in the end. Plus, it’s wrapping up old business, instead of exploring new ideas.

It’s mostly an excuse to set up the fact that Janet has constructed an elaborate virtual reality simulation, which means she can effectively put people in an unreal world to test things out. This lets the show keep some of its “wild and surreal things can happen” tone, but almost everything that happened in the Chidi half of “The Ballad of Donkey Doug” seemed like it was blazing along at light speed, so I never had the chance to go, “Wait, what?” Maybe the breakneck pace was meant to gloss over Janet inventing seamless virtual reality, but I still felt like the show was on step 17 when I was still on step one.

(Sidebar: So far, it hasn’t broken the show, but the fact that Janet is functionally omniscient feels like something the writers either have to lean into or work hard to neutralize. So far, they’ve done neither and haven’t quite nailed the balance.)

That said, the Jason side of “The Ballad of Donkey Doug” is truly wonderful. The reveal that Donkey Doug is Jason’s dad is terrifically funny, and Michael and Tahani’s utter amusement at all of the circumstances of Jason’s upbringing made the story click even more. If this sort of story is where The Good Place is headed, I’m intrigued. If, instead, we’re just going to see a bunch more attempts to recreate the wild, anything goes atmosphere of the afterlife here on Earth, the show might start to chase its own tail too much for me.

Karen: I do wonder if we’re seeing a case of Chekov’s virtual reality simulation, given that there’s never a Good Place detail that hasn’t turned out to serve a purpose. (Or maybe I’m just overinvested in Eleanor’s Jason Statham fantasy. Girl, same!)

I’m also not entirely convinced that the new ideas we’re seeing are new enough. Jason’s half of the episode really was great (his tearful secret handshake with Pillboy is a work of art), but it looks like The Good Place is setting up what I’m going to refer to as a video game scenario: We’re seeing the characters help other people, yes, but they’re doing so by working through their own stories in a way that doesn’t feel organic so much as it feels like steps leading up to a grand finale. Jason has achieved closure, now it’s time for Tahani and Eleanor to do the same.

I think that’s why I was ultimately disappointed that “The Ballad of Donkey Doug” ended on the reveal that Eleanor’s mother is still alive, not least because it means the gang will be divided up once more. The only upside is that what comes next looks like it will be evenly balanced, as opposed to one side of the episode functioning as pure fluff, à la Chidi’s ordeal this week.

On that same token, though, what you said about The Good Place being on step 17 while we’re still on step one is enough to make me reconsider. Again, this is a show that does everything deliberately; so far, nothing is without a purpose, and maybe I should trust that this season is built the same way.

Lest we forget, everyone is still on the Judge’s shit list, which means there’s a cosmic reckoning waiting for them at some point. And I get the feeling that season three won’t end until we see some more moral hemming and hawing from our party’s supernatural contingent of Michael and Janet. Or maybe I’ll just end up eating my hat on all of this.

That baseball cap is great. Colleen Hayes/NBC

Todd: No, you’re right on that account, and the video game idea is astute. The characters are embarking on some side-quests to help characters who drop in pretty much for a single episode, then leave the narrative. I mean, I’d love to see Donkey Doug and Pillboy become series regulars, but it strikes me as unlikely.

There’s also the rub that the characters can’t tell anybody about the whole Good Place/Bad Place system, because that would make it impossible for anyone they tell to get into the Good Place. That pesky little detail complicates every relationship they have with anybody who isn’t one of the other series regulars.

The Good Place has always been a pretty insular show, but at least in the afterlife, we had figures like the Judge and Trevor and Vicky and on and on, characters who would pop in just frequently enough to keep the story moving. So far, the Earthbound antics haven’t developed the same set of supporting characters, and any time someone like Trevor ends up hanging out with our heroes, he’s quickly written out.

I think the virtual reality of it “The Ballad of Donkey Doug” bugged me just a little bit because — so far, at least — it has no bearing on the show’s larger reality. It was fun to watch William Jackson Harper run through a bunch of possible versions of breaking up with Simone, just as it was fun to see Kristen Bell play Eleanor slowly realizing she’s into Simone, at least in the simulation. (And, really, why don’t more men say they’re bisexual? It’s 2018!) But it’s inherently a story that runs in place, a comedic conceit that works in a scene but can’t carry a whole storyline. Chidi’s gutted feeling when he finally does break up with Simone is inherently more interesting, but the show buzzes right by it.

And yet the virtual reality stuff made me think about the simulation hypothesis, which Elon Musk (a particularly loathsome Tahani ex, it turns out) was obsessed with for a while there. The idea is that we live in an incredibly advanced simulation, created by descendants of people very like us, designed by them to get a sort of window into their past. It posits that we are, in essence, the Sims, but with autonomy. Or something like that.

The major philosophical question raised by the simulation hypothesis is — how do we behave morally if we live in a simulation? And the answer is simple: It doesn’t matter. The moral code you live by doesn’t change one iota, because even if you’re somehow aware of the simulation, it doesn’t make the people around you, or your interactions with them, less real. You still have a responsibility to them. We all still owe each other kindness and sincerity.

So maybe there’s more to “The Ballad of Donkey Doug” than I’m giving it credit for. But nearly halfway through season three, I’m increasingly concerned The Good Place is trying to extend its old heavenly delights to the planet Earth and struggling with just how little our reality affords those kinds of opportunities. In the Good Place, you can jet all over the universe in an instant. On Earth, it still takes the better part of a day to get from Australia to Florida, to say nothing of going back again.

Original Source -> The Good Place settles into a new status quo in “The Ballad of Donkey Doug”

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mrsteveecook · 6 years

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did I signal disinterest in the job, I found the interview questions ahead of my interview, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. Did I bungle this interview by implying I wasn’t interested?

I’m worried that I handled a recent job interview badly. The job was at a very exciting institution, and the duties were right up my alley, with a bit more responsibility than I have now. The job would involve moving to one of the big desert metropolises in the Southwest, a city I was ambivalent about (too hot for me, too conservative, and too car-oriented) but I was willing to consider the move based on what I knew about the job and the organization.

I had a successful phone interview, and then a few weeks later they flew me out for an all-day interview, which is typical in my field. There was a lot that I liked, especially the people I met, but other things that weren’t perfect, such as the actual physical location where I’d be working. At the end of the day, as the hiring manager was driving me back to my hotel, she asked me something like, “So, what do you think?” I panicked a bit — I wasn’t yet convinced I’d take the job if offered, even though I felt positive about a lot of it, and I became irrationally afraid of sounding too enthusiastic in case I later ended up turning an offer down. So I hemmed and hawed and said, “I’m not sure about the lifestyle here in Desert City, and you know I’d be expensive because of my current coastal Blue State salary” (the topic of salary hadn’t come up but I had already decided I would probably be unwilling to take a big pay cut even to move to a cheaper city). The rest of our conversation was fine – I liked this manager a lot and felt that throughout the day she and I had a good connection – but I worried I’d bungled that interaction badly.

Flash forward a few months and they haven’t been in touch. The job is still listed as unfilled, but I assume if I were still in the running I’d have heard some indication about it. Obviously throughout the course of an entire day they had plenty of opportunities to decide I wasn’t right for the job, but the conversation I mentioned above has stuck with me. Does my answer sound as bad to you as it does in my memory? What’s the best way to handle it when, at the end of an interview, they ask for your interest in the job, especially if you’re still on the fence and want to see what an offer looks like before making a decision? Should you be honest about any reservations you have, or should you try to show an enthusiasm you may not feel, just to keep options open?

Yeah, it wasn’t a great answer, unfortunately! It likely came across to her as if you had some serious reservations, and the salary remark sounded like you were signaling that this probably wasn’t going to work out.

It’s not that you needed to be 100% convinced by the end of the day. It’s that if you choose to mention serious reservations in that context, without anything else to temper it, she’s going to take you at your word. It would have been better to say something like, “I’m really interested in the job, and today has made me even more so. I’m still thinking about what the move would entail, of course, but I’m excited to keep talking.” That would have been honest about your interest in the job (which sounds like it was high) but also noted that you were still mulling other factors. The problem with your response was that it was entirely discouraging; there was nothing in there indicating any enthusiasm at all.

This is a situation where I would have recommended following up within the next few days to let her know that you’d been reflecting on the trip and wanted to let her know how strongly interested you were (if in fact that was true). That might have helped counteract the previous impression. It’s not necessarily too late to do that now, although I wouldn’t do it at this late date unless you know you’re open to moving if the offer is right.

2. I found the interview questions ahead of my interview

I was applying for a job I had been in for a few months as a temp. I researched the files and found questions that were asked at a previous interview for the same job and, as they weren’t protected, I used these as a practice for the interview. I was horrified when I got to the interview to see they hadn’t changed the questions. I didn’t say anything, as if I did they would have to redo the whole process, which took months to set up, and if I didn’t get the job then it wouldn’t matter.

However, they did find out and told me I was unethical and said I was not going to be considered for the position. My contract was ending on the day they told me. They said they didn’t believe anyone else could have accessed the docs (which I don’t believe) but that’s that. Of course I was very disappointed as I had worked very hard learning the job and left with over 18 hours “flex” time which was how much extra I put into the position. It was a very disappointing ending. Just wondered your thoughts. I was going to suggest they redo the interviews with just the top two candidates but I didn’t even get a chance to put that forward.

The subject line of your email to me was “boss didn’t password protect interview documents” — which is an odd way to characterize this. The issue isn’t that your boss didn’t protect the documents; the issue is that you accessed documents you weren’t supposed to access in order to get an unfair advantage over other candidates. Your boss is not to blame for not stopping you from doing that. In any job, there are going to be opportunities to behave unethically, and your employer needs to be able to trust that you won’t do that just because you think you can. So yes, they took the right stance here.

You sound like you’re not taking responsibility for what happened, and that’s dangerous because if you don’t learn the lesson from this, you’re likely to make similar mistakes in the future.

3. Not giving a gift to a resigning manager when I’m giving a gift to another coworker

We have a frustrating director/project manager (Tywin) who does not allow us to go beyond his strict guidelines in any project without he direct say-so. When we reach the limits of his guidelines and have to request new ones, he acts annoyed or he says he wishes he worked with people who knew how to do their jobs. It feels condescending and I join my coworkers in a sigh of relief when his projects come to an end.

Tywin, thankfully, is resigning to take over his father’s successful business. His friend, my direct manager (Cersei), had my coworker (Joffrey) send out a group email asking us if we would all contribute $20 towards a gift card so that Tywin can have a nice outing with his family. I balked at the email, chose to ignore it, and would pretend I did not see it if anyone were to ask. I work night shift and come to find ANOTHER group email this time from Cersei, requesting that I reply as soon as possible and let her know if we are interested/not interested in participating. I was going to reply that I cannot afford it or that it is not in my budget, like you usually advise.

But at the same time I have been asking around to plan a small office baby shower for a recently pregnant coworker. My coworker had to use IVF to get pregnant so we are all visibly excited for her and do not mind spending way more than that. (Do not worry, I am not going to pressure anyone into contributing!)

I do not want to send mixed messages, but there is absolutely no way I wish to participate in funding Tywin’s family time. Is it okay to just say, “That is not something I would like to spend my money on but I wish him well”?

I wouldn’t say it quite like that, as that language highlights the “I don’t want to” part. And you’re absolutely entitled to not want to, but in the interest of preserving smooth relations with your boss, you’re better off going with something like “I’m not able to chip in, but I wish him well!” And in this context, “I’m not able to chip in” covers everything from “this is not in my budget” to “that’s not something I’m going to choose to contribute to” (just worded more politely in the latter case).

It would be pretty aggressive for your manager to ask you why you’re able to contribute to your other coworker’s baby shower but not to Tywin’s gift card, but if she does, you can say, “My budget for office gifts is limited and I had already planned on Sansa’s shower” or “My budget is limited and I couldn’t do both.” (Frankly, I would love for you to say, “I’ve always been taught not to give gifts upward at work,” but you shouldn’t do that unless you know Cersei will handle that well.)

4. Do I really have to make up hours I missed at my internship when I was sick?

I am a graduate student getting my masters at a pretty good school. I’m also a graduate assistant for the chairperson of the program, who is notoriously very demanding. (I knew this going into the job). The power dynamic is similar to the “big boss” of a company who picked one of the company’s interns to be their own personal intern. I’m scheduled to work 12 hours/week, but I also have 18 hours/week of scheduled “in class” time that I have to work around.

I got the flu this week, on a Tuesday which is when I work. As I’m writing this, it’s Thursday and I’m still not feeling great. On the days I was sick I tried my best to be responsible, pass my tasks along to other interns, and everything the boss needed got done. (I even came in extra this morning for an hour). But the boss keeps asking me when I’m going to come in and make up my extra hours.

Now usually I wouldn’t mind, because I did miss a day. But the issue I have is that I’ve worked overtime for the past few weeks without saying a word about it (4+ hours every week so far) and I never complain. I guess my question is, since I’m at such a low position on the totem poll do I really have to kill myself next week to work eight extra hours to make up the time I missed?

I understand if that’s the case and since I’m at such a low position and I have to that’s fine, I’ll do it, but thinking about that scenario just sends the darkest of clouds over my head. I feel like I’ve dug myself a hole that I can’t get out of by getting sick.

I can’t speak to graduate assistantships in particular, but if this were a normal internship, no, you absolutely would not be expected to make up the missed hours. That’s not typically how sick time works (or no one would ever be able to recover). You are sick, you get time off, that’s it. There are some jobs where you’re expected to make up missed time, but they’re usually widely recognized as terrible jobs and/or it’s because of very specific, limited-time circumstances (like if you had to finish something in time for an unusually important deadline). It’s not something that should be expected as a matter of routine.

That goes double since you’ve already been working extra hours anyway. And in fact, it would be reasonable to note that to your boss, saying something like, “I’ve actually worked an additional 12 hours over the past three weeks, which covers the time I missed this week and then some. Because of my class schedule, I can’t put in more on top of that, but I’ll be back to my regular schedule going forward.”

Whether or not you can say that to this “notoriously demanding” boss is a different question, but at least know that it would be perfectly reasonable.

5. New manager is asking a battery of personal questions

Is it appropriate for a new manager to ask personal questions? My new manager met with one of my colleagues and asked her the following: Where are you from? Where do you live? Do you own your own home? Do you have kids? How many? Are you married? Is your son’s father in the picture? (My colleague is a single mother.) Do you have a boyfriend, a partner? Do you socialize with colleagues from this office outside of office hours?

HELP — I am dreading my upcoming meeting.

What on earth?! Some personal questions, like where someone is from or if they have kids, are fine, when they come up in an organic way as part of getting to know someone. But this is bizarre and intrusive. Asking if she owns her own home?! Why? And the intrusive question about her child’s father? And all the rest is quite weird too, especially when you put it altogether.

I wonder if she heard somewhere that she should learn this type of information about her staff as a way to show she cares about them as people, but then horribly misapplied that and turned it into this weird, inappropriate interrogation.

Anyway, if she does this to you, when it crosses over from feeling like normal getting-to-know-you chat to feeling inappropriate (which I think might be at question #3 in this list, about owning or renting), you could smile and pleasantly say, “That’s a surprising question. Why do you ask?” And if she really crosses lines, you can always say, “Oh, I don’t usually talk about my personal life that much at work.”

I’d like to tell you to tell her she’s being weird and inappropriate, but it’s in your best interests to stay on good terms with her because she’s your new manager. (Which of course is unfair, but that’s power dynamics for you.)