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#fizz did an arson
mauesartetc · 5 months
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sorry, i shouldve asked you about your opinion" on what I said: is the reveal of how Blitzo caused the fire dissatisfactory because it robbed him of agency, since it had nothing to do with his moral failure or an active choice on his part?
Not every action a character takes needs to be a moral choice. We've already seen that Blitzo's morals are questionable at best, from how he's disrespected his employees' boundaries, to his verbal abuse of Moxxie, to how he treated Verosika when they were dating. We don't need purposeful arson pushing a flawed character into monster territory, especially not if they're the main protagonist.
I know he and Stolas are very obviously the writers' favorites and they've been shielded from consequences in the past, but Blitzo did suffer meaningful consequences as a result of this: He lost his home, he lost his friendship with Fizzarolli, and he lost his mom (which I still feel was an unnecessary addition, but whatever). And he even admits that while the fire was an accident, it was still his fault. He didn't mean to cause it, but he caused it regardless. And -holy shit- he actually apologized to Fizz and took action at the climax to redeem himself! Congrats, Helluva Boss, you're getting brownie points for the most basic semblance of writing competence.
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And now that I think of it, Blitzo did have agency in that scene. He did make a choice. A couple, actually. Instead of tending to Fizz, he chose to run for help (making it look like he didn't care, causing Fizz to hate him). Then he chose to run to his mom's tent when he saw it was burning, further delaying any assistance that might've gone to Fizz. Again, not a fan of killing off the mom for cheap melodrama, but he did make the types of choices a scared, inexperienced teen might make in that situation.
For that matter, it wouldn't be believable (or interesting) if every single thing that happened in a story was a deliberate choice by a character. Sometimes characters' plans don't go the way they wanted. Sometimes they work hard and fail anyway. Sometimes accidents happen, just like in real life. Sure, a character can be the source of a lot of their own problems, but not everything that happens to them needs to be a result of self-sabotage.
Whether or not a character intended a certain outcome is ultimately irrelevant. What matters are the consequences they experience because of it, and how they conduct themselves in the aftermath.
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pixelizedprince · 6 months
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Last night's Pathfinder moments -
"Go gettem champ" Parsley nervously does an awkward "blows kiss" motion at the group before they scrungle over to the nasty monkey window only to return & say the monkeys look sick, we could kill them with maybe arson? Then backpeddled so hard they gaslight Fizz into talking about arson
My friends did not see this blows kiss motion but its haunted me since, Parsley was very fucking nervous to have to sneak into this camp (after the previous dirt mound beat down and demon flyover this whole place is just cursed, fuck it and fuck these towers) and I have no idea what possessed me but I felt the need to blow a kiss before going to the hut's window.
It was very much a "fuck fuck fuck fuck what can I do to counteract looking like a doofus suggest something cool and un-kiss blowing" like ARSON?!
Like of course Parsley doesn't want to actually do an arson but everyone got really really hurt the day before and they would rather just burn the risk than have their friends get hurt again (sitting on this development to see what other bad faith calls they will do to protect the people they are caring about now)
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puff-world · 2 years
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I'm gonna rank every skylander and ripoff @jelloapocalypse
This will not be based in gameplay but design because fuck that noise any how les go
PART 1: MAGIC
Wrecking ball: [insert dead joke] -6
Voodood: dood you are like totally forgettable 3
Spyro: [insert joke about his face] 6
Double trouble: despite being forgettable, you survived -6
Pop fizz: he drinks mountain dew, truley a gamer 7
Ninjini: ok your fucking cool 8
Trap shadow: who 1
Star strike: yall remember those egg theives from spyro? 7
Hoot loop: CRAZY ASS -8
Dune bug: my apologies to trap shadow, who are you? -1
Enigma: you look like a wow boss 9
Deja vu: cute pigtails lazy name 5
Cobra cadabra: COBRA COBRAAA 7
Blastermind: kaos what are you doing here 4
Splat: dranie bob Ross 6
Pain-yatta: how are you magic dude: 7
Mysticat: eh 1
Buck shot: and eh 0
Over all score: 5
PART 2: UNDEAD
Hex: who's goth gf is this? 7
Ghost roaster: why did they scrap you? 7
Cynder: why are you here? 6
Chop chop: he has a bone to pick with you 7
Freight rider: you look like a common enemy 5
Eye brawl: ok ngl really fucking sick -9
Roller brawl: my bad this is the goth gf 5
Rattle snake: yall ever watch rango? 7
Night shift: I dont get it 7
Grim creeper: dopey but cute -6
Short cut: hesh gonna gecha! -7
Krypt king: chop chops top boyfriend 8
Funny bone: play dead! -6
Bat spin: bleh both literally and figuratively 4
Fiesta: drip 9
Wolf gang: London 8
Pit boss: this sssssucks 3
Chopscotch: your pun name is your saving grace or grave -1
Over all score: 8
PART 3: LIFE
Zook: [insert soldier tf2 quotes] -5
Stump smash: neat -7
Stealth elf: porn bait 6
Camo: you're not very camouflaged 4
Tree rex: man going hard 9
Shroom: mama mia -7
Zoo lou: uhm 3
Stink bomb: gross 5
Grilla drilla: isnt a drill counter active to the eco friendly drip 5
Bumble blast: [buck bumble theme] -7
Tuff luck: furry bait 4
High five: hesa pupper 7
Food fight: trigger happy rip off 5
Bushwhack: whack off! Wait? 3
DONKEY KONG: DONKEY KONG 9
Thrillipede: he gives a 1000% 8
Crash bandicoot: WOAH 9
Chompy mage: dr livesly walk 9
Boom bloom: coolio 7
Ambush: not expected 7
Over all score: -7
PART 4: FIRE
Sunburn: sqwaaaaa 6
Ignitor: kinda lit 7
Flame slinger: the writers were blind making him 4
Eruptor: I finna puke, in a good way 7
Hot head: kinda dopey but also really neat 6
Hot dog: stop drop and roll over: -5
Smolderdash: yall watch moana 8
Fryno: I'm kimda loving it -6
Fire kraken: he so dopey I love him -7
Blast zone: ignitors top boyfriend wait didnt I make this joke already 7
Wildfire: anduin if he liked fire 7
Trail blazer: my little arson 7
Torch: she hot literally 7
Ka boom: compensating much 7
Spitfire: lit but not in the good way 5
Bowser: look up @were-Ralph 9
Tae kwon crow: is this a fried chicken joke? 5
Flare wolf: furry bait 5
Ember: she was better in danny phantom 7
Over all: 7
PART 5: WATER
Zap: alotta spyro ripoffs 6
Wham shell: dont look at me with those big ol eyes 6
Slam bam: for being so chilled hes kinda hot 8
Gill grunt: this man goes hard 9
Thumpback: thumpback mountain 9
Chill: not really cool tho 7
Swash buckler: disney lawsuit 9
RIP tide: here comes the crimson chin -7
Punk shock: kinda cool kinda forgettable 5
Freeze blade: "I like your cut g" 7
Snap shot: yall play pokemon 7
Lob star: is mayonnaise an instrument 5
Flip wreck: [vulgar dolphin noises] 4
Echo: zap became a goth gf 6
Dive clops: scooby doo vibes 7
Tidepool: meh 5
King pen: 7
Grave clobber: excuse me what 0
Over all: 7
PART 6: EARTH
Terra fin: did he get fatter over time 8
Prism break: the pun was under utilized 8
Dino rang: picks up phone* "what's your favorite dinosaur" 7
Bash: awww rock pupper 8
Flash wing: theres the spyro rip off 5
Crusher: blag blag blah prism breaks top boyfriend 8
Slobber tooth: a pale imitation of bash 6
Scorp: sorry I'm a scorpio -6
Rubble rouser: uga uga -7
Doom stone: sorry but naw 4
Wallop: furry bait 5
Rocky roll: a lil guy 8
Head rush: I want her to kick my ass 9
Fist bump: hows it going bros its [insert n bomb] 4
Smash hit: yall watch ice age 3? 6
Tritip: pick up the phone a lil kid wants to talk dinosaurs 5
Golden queen: yasss queen 8
Barbella: once again hit me 8
Over all: 8
PART 7: AIR
Whirlwind: spyro ripoff again 4
Warnado: I like turtles 7
Sonic boom: good show 6
Lighting rod: move that cloud so I can see that lighting rod: 7
Swarm: buck bumble literally 8
Jetvac: kirby still better 7
Scratch: again 4
Pop thorn: oh hey it's that balloon I lost -7
Free range: I thought it was a piss joke
Boom jet: human??? 6
Thunder bolt: lighting rods less slutty brother
Gusto: oh my 6
Flip kong: MONKEY!!!! also Nintendo lawsuit
Storm blade: she so pretty 8
Wild storm: I dont get it 4
Bad juju: why are you here? 0
Air strike: bird shit every where -6
Over all: 6
PART 8: TECH
Trigger happy: he has a gun -8
Drobot: another one 4
Drill sergeant: show me your war face 7
Boomer: pfft 7
Sproket: kenzie from saints row 8
Bouncer: DR LIVESLY IS ALIVE AND HE IS AN IRON GINAT RIPOFF 10
Wind up: hit him so hell shut up -8
Spy rise: [sam Fisher voice] 8
Magna charge: yoooooooo 9
Countdown: soccer fans be like -6
Tread head: how do you drive that -5
Jawbreaker: he looks like an orc made him 9
Gear shift: robo waifu 7
Chopper: dinosaurs!!!! -7
High volt: he has a little blue line flag on his car 5
Robow: ok this goes hard 9
Dr neo cortex: jaundice 9
Dr krankcase: gangrene 9
Chain reaction: robo viking 10
Over all: 9
PART 9: LIGHT
Spotlight: must I say it 7
Knight light: palidins be like 6
Astroblaster: the only space themed skylander 8
Blaster tron: what's light about you? 0
Aurora: at this time of day in this part of the country 8
Over all: 7
PART 10: DARK
Knightmare: death knights be like 9
Black out: despite being a spyro clone hes really cool 9
Night fall: Lovecraftian ass 9
Starcast: slam bams emo cousin 7
Hoodsickle: you should be undead 0
Over all: 9
PART 11: KAOS & OTHERS
Kaos: DESTROY US ALL DESTROY US ALL DESTROY US ALL 10
Cyclops snail: theres a reason he was scrapped -10
Over all: 10
PART 12: RANKING TOP 10 AND WORST
10. Cyclops snail
9. Eye brawl
8. Head rush
7. Jaw breaker
6. Chompy mage
5. Fiesta
4. Black out
3. Kaos
2. Chain reaction
1. Bouncer
THE WORST: buckshot
PART 13: thoughts over all
So..after ranking every skylander, no I will not do enemies or trapped bosses, I can kinda get a method with them
Magic are based on religions and the arcane
Undead are often dead or malicious
Life are based on flora and fauna
Fire are based on fire, magma, and explosives
Water are based on ice and marine life
Earth are based on rocks and Crystal's with a few rough boys
Air is based on flight, avians or weather
Tech is based on machinery, metal and demolition and man made things
Light is based on holy and benevolent forces
Dark is based conversely on lovecraftian and malicious things
I originally intended on looking at all scrapped skylanders too but I realized there were too many so I only covered the one that was most well known scrapped skylanders
I also noticed some of the sensei's in imaginators were really independent of their element
And another thing was that some skylanders were dropped. In the original generation they had 4 skylanders and then replaced one for giants then again for swap force but the ones they keeped were given ultimate versions that sometimes looked wholly different and then in superchargers some where brought back again ang given new armor.
Anyway I hope you enjoyed this look into skylanders history thank you and have a nice day
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hale-13 · 3 years
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Airway
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 29 Prompt - Control
The only real drawback of the current iteration of his suit, Peter thought, was its lack of air filtration. With the tools and workshop space that Mr. Stark provided him with Peter was able to make a Spidey suit that was top of the line in every aspect except for the ventilation; for all intents and purposes Peter was really just breathing through high tech spandex. The tightly woven fabric did, minimally, protect him from inhaling smoke and other harmful chemicals but not enough.
Words: 2407, Chapters: 1/1 (complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen
Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Bruce Banner
TW: Medical Procedures, Panic
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
The only real drawback of the current iteration of his suit, Peter thought, was its lack of air filtration. With the tools and workshop space that Mr. Stark provided him with Peter was able to make a Spidey suit that was top of the line in every aspect except for the ventilation; for all intents and purposes Peter was really just breathing through high tech spandex. The tightly woven fabric did, minimally, protect him from inhaling smoke and other harmful chemicals but not enough.
Which is what landed him in his current situation of sitting with his mask pulled up to the bridge of his nose and an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth as he took shallow, wheezing breaths.
The apartment fire that he had responded to still had a surprisingly large number of people stuck in hard to reach places that left Peter exposed longer than he would have liked. His throat felt like it was on fire and his lungs felt tight the way they used to feel when he had an asthma attack. The fire fighter that had passed him the oxygen mask earlier crouched down in front of him with a worried look on her ash stained face.
“I still think you should let us take you to the hospital,” she said worriedly as she adjusted the flow of oxygen. Peter shook his head..
“I’m good,” he croaked, trying not to wince at just how destroyed his voice sounded and display as much confidence as he could. She still looked dubious.
“Is there anyone you can stay with tonight?” She pressed. “You shouldn’t be alone just in case.”
“I’’ll be okay,” he promised, removing the oxygen mask and pulling his own down to cover his face. It immediately became harder to breathe and he regretted giving up the clean air but he knew if he didn’t get out of there soon he would have a much bigger problem. “Thanks for the help!” He called as he swung out, his breathing becoming more labored as he webbed away.
His HUD fizzed out for a second before directing to the Tower and Peter rolled his eyes at Karen but obliged. May was working a late shift and Peter did feel pretty shitty. It probably wouldn’t hurt to hang around the Tower with its fully stocked and staffed MedBay for the evening. He had to stop a few times on his way to catch his breath but he made it to the landing pad with few issues.
“You stink,” Tony greeted him as he walked in, pulling his ashy mask off his face and letting it drop on one of the many end tables. “You committing arson now?”
“Ha ha,” Peter said hoarsely with a slight cough as he ventured into the kitchen to Fran a bottle of water to gulp down. Tony narrowed his eyes over his cup of coffee in judgement and concern.
“Karen said they put you on oxygen,” he said accusingly and Peter groaned and dropped his forehead to rest on the cool counter top, taking aborted breaths through his mouth. The smell of smoke still on his suit was making it hard to take deep breaths in.
“Only for a couple minutes,” Peter answered, coughing again and taking another swig of water.
“Go take a shower,” his mentor ordered. “Leave your suit in your room and I’ll send it down to FRI for deep cleaning although at this point it might be worth it to just toss it and start again from scratch.”
“But I just broke it in,” Peter whined, trudging off to the room Tony had set aside for his use. He may be right though – smoke was a notoriously hard stench to get out of fabric.
The hot water felt heavenly on his skin and Peter spent probably too long under the strong spray but, unfortunately, his chest still felt tight and heavy when he got out. He paused in front of the mirror, trying to take deep, even inhales and he squinted his eyes in confusion. He had helped out on a few burning buildings and had never felt this way before. Deciding he probably just needed some rest, Peter left the bathroom and joined Mr. Stark back out in the common room.
He only got about halfway through his soup and an episode of The Office before he passed out, head leaned back against the cushions.
——————————————
The room was lit only by the glow of the projector when Peter woke up unable to breathe.
He gasped and flailed as he woke up, smacking Mr. Stark in the face and causing him to yelp as he tried to inhale through what felt like a straw. “Lights up to fifty,” Mr. Stark barked out and Peter snapped his eyes closed against the blue-toned overhead lights snapping on over him. “Fuck Peter,” his mentor said, scrambling of the couch and scooping Peter up in his arms.
Peter felt dizzy and his vision was spotted with black dots as he was carried to the elevator. He could hear his mentor yelling something but couldn’t comprehend what was being said as he lifted one shaky hand up to clutch at his, now swollen, neck and he could feel panic bubbling up in him.
‘Don’t black out,’ he told himself as he tried to calm down and even out his breathing. ‘It’s fine. You’re fine.’
“Bruce!” Tony shouted as he deposited Peter on, what must have been, a bed in one of the exam rooms in the Tower MedBay. “He can’t breathe!”
An oxygen mask was shoved over Peter’s face but it did little to help him but he gripped it with a weak hand anyway, gasping into it and squinting his eye open. “Hey Peter,” Dr. Banner said in his usual calm voice, raising the bed up so Peter was sitting and grabbing a light and a tongue depressor. “I need you to open your mouth for me.”
Peter shakily nodded and dropped the mask to open his mouth, gagging on the tongue depressor and swaying a little at the loss of the little oxygen he was getting. Bruce swore and placed the mask back over Peter’s face, pressing a blue button on the wall and lowering Peter back to lie flat. “His airway is closing!”
“What!” Tony said, panicked and grabbing Peter’s hand to squeeze as the room burst to life with medical professionals. A nurse grabbed him and bodily pulled him from the room as he yelled for answers. Peter could feel his own panic bubbling up in his gut but he also felt like he may pass out and didn’t have the energy to explore it.
“Peter,” Bruce said firmly and calmly from directly above him as a nurse cut off his shirt and another placed an IV catheter in his arm. “Your throat is full of soot from the fire earlier and is causing your trachea to swell and close. We’re going to knock you out so we can place an endotracheal tube to help you breathe. It’s going to be jarring when you wake up later but it will be okay. I need you to trust me.”
Peter could feel tears welling up in his eyes and spilling over his face from the stress and effort but didn’t get a chance to respond before his muscles relaxed like wet clay and his vision spun into darkness.
——————————————
“I’m on my way,” May Parker’s wet voice said through the phone as Tony paced up and down the hallway outside the room where the medical staff was working with Peter. “God Tony fuck!” She said, sounding out of breath as if she were running.
“Happy’s on his way to get you,” Tony promised her, trying to control his own racing heart and tensed nerves. “He’ll be there in ten minutes and he’ll get you back much faster than the bus. I’ve got him May. I promise I’ve got him.”
May let out a sob into the phone and Tony felt his heart clench. “If anything happens to him,” she said and Tony nodded. He knew. He understood.
“Just focus on getting here safely,” he told her as he stopped to stare at Peter’s door. “I’ll let you know when I hear something.”
“The very second you find anything out,” she told him firmly before hanging up the phone. Tony rubbed a hand over his face and dropped into one of the chairs that were spaced throughout the hall, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and closing his eyes.
Waking up to Peter panicking, pale and with blue lips was probably going to be in the top five worst experiences of his life and would definitely haunt his nightmares for weeks to come. Bruce hadn’t told him anything before ordering him removed from the room and his imagination was, most likely, worse than anything that was happening to Peter but he didn’t do well not knowing what was going on.
“Update FRI?” He asked his AI hopefully, tapping on the comm link he kept in his ear basically all of his waking hours.
“Sorry boss,” she said remorsefully. “Mr. Parker’s condition is classified.”
Tony’s stomach knotted further and he stood back up to pace again, unable to sit down and needing to work out his restless energy as he waited for an update on the kid. About fifteen minutes of nail biting later, Bruce slipped out of the room and gestured to Tony to sit back down.
“He’ll be okay,” he started out, making Tony sag in dizzying relief. His throat was filled with soot from the fire earlier and it caused his trachea to swell closed. We knocked him out to place an endotracheal tube until the swelling went down but it was already to severe so we had to perform a cricthyrotomy to establish a viable airway instead.”
Tony felt the blood drain from his face and he felt a little faint. “Talk to me like I’m an idiot Bruce,” he said, desperate and hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was. “I need you to lay it out for me.”
Bruce looked worried and reached out a hand to grab Tony’s wrist to take his pulse. “I need you to calm down,” Bruce said firmly. “Yes, this is scary but Peter is fine. With his healing abilities he’s going to make a full recovery and he’ll probably be back on his feet in just a couple days alright? Peter is out of danger but it isn’t going to help his recovery if you have a heart attack okay?”
Tony nodded, making a concentrated effort to do his four-seven-eight breathing and calm down. It took a couple minutes but Bruce was patient. “Better?” He asked and Tony nodded, gesturing with his hand for the other scientist to continue. “We had to make a small incision in Peter’s neck and trachea and insert an endotracheal tube through that incision since his upper airway was too swollen to allow it to pass. He is able to breath on his own with this in but we have him on supplemental oxygen just to support him. He is on a ventilator just to give his lungs a chance to recover but he can breathe on his own – its just supplemental alright? We’ve started epinephrine and steroid therapy to reduce the swelling and we’ll probably be able to remove the tube in twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”
“He’s okay though?” Tony asked a little desperately. “He’s fine?”
“Yes Tony,” Bruce told him with an indulgent smile. “He’s okay and he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Can I see him?” He asked, staring at the closed door.
“In a few minutes,” Bruce promised. “The nurses and respiratory therapists are getting him settled but then you can go in. Do you want to call his aunt and I can update her in the meantime?”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed, passing his phone over to Bruce and feeling his muscles unclench just the smallest amount.
The kid was okay.
———————————————
Peter woke to the clicking and popping of artificial air and immediately panicked at he felt his chest rise and fall against his volition and he grasped at the loose gown resting over him before a gentle hand took his and pulled it away. “Hey kiddo its alright, you’re okay. You can breathe the machine is just helping a little.”
Peter cracked his eyes open and made eye contact with his mentor who was seated beside him. May was loosely gripping his hand on the other side, her head resting next to his arm on the bed and soft puffs of air hitting his skin as she slept. The machine clicked again and it took everything in Peter not to fight it. Tony ran his fingers over his knuckles in a soothing gesture.
“We’re going to have to work on your suit,” the man said with a little smile. “It’s getting a full respirator and oxygen tank. It’s going to be a challenge since its so sleek but I think, between the two of us, we can figure it out.” Peter let his brows furrow in confusion and Tony sighed. “Your throat closed up because of the smoke,” he said. “You’re going to be fine though.”
The ventilator clicked again and Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep calm. He had never done well with loss of control and he could feel his Spidey sense making his hairs raise and his adrenaline spike. He wanted to panic but the artificial breaths wouldn’t let him and it just made it so much worse.
“Hey hey,” Tony said soothingly, rubbing his free hand through Peter’s hair in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” He gave Peter a considering look then hesitantly offered: “Want me to have them put you out?”
A thrill of relief shot though Peter and he squeezed his mentor’s hand in desperation as he pressed the call button. Peter couldn’t see the nurse but he heard Tony ask for the sedation like he was underwater, not calming until he could feel the cool rush of drugs in his veins.
“I’ve got you buddy,” the man said, a thumb rubbing over Peter’s cheekbone once before settling back in his hair. “You just check out for a while.”
The darkness was welcoming as Peter fell into it; feeling safe with his aunt and mentor watching over him.
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leemotionalwreck · 3 years
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Of Black Chats and Fallen Angels (chapter 2)
Read it here on AO3!
Chapter 1 | You are here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
*********************************************
Tikki rolled her eyes for what had to be the millionth time that afternoon as Marinette flopped back on her bed. She had spent every moment-- from the moment Adrien drove away to the second she shut her trap door-- ranting about ‘how could he possibly think offering me an umbrella could win me over’ and ‘why was he looking at me with that stupid smile on his face’ and on and on and on. As much as Tikki adored her holder, she could be exhausting with her overthinking and lack of, for lack of a better term, ‘chill’.
“Marinette,” Tikki chided.
Marinette hadn’t heard a thing as she walked over to a project she had started earlier that week. It was white nylon off-the-shoulder number with numerous belts and buttons that shouldn’t have worked as well as they did together, with a hem that stopped mid-thigh. She fussed over the neckline and Tikki worried that she would pick up a needle. Or worse-- decide to change something. 
“Marinette… ” Tikki warned.
Nothing good ever came from a ranting, angry, Marinette; especially when said Marinette decided to start sewing. Tikki had witnessed far too many meltdowns just hours after an angry sewing session and decided it was best (and safest for the sanity of all involved) if working on any project, school, or otherwise was best reserved for a time when her holder was more stable. 
Much to Tikki’s relief, Marinette walked away from the dress, fiddling with the ends of her hair instead. 
“-And don’t even get me started on the way he showed off his stupid limo.” The girl huffed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I mean who even does that!? Ugh, and the way he-”
“MARINETTE!” Tikki interjected. 
“Huh?” She said as if Tikki calling her name had brought her out of some sort of trance.
“You’ve gotta stop overthinking this,” Tikki sighed. “I know you don’t like him, but isn’t there a possibility that he was just trying to be helpful? People do that type of stuff, you know.”
She shot Tikki an exasperated look. “Then explain the whole gum incident.”
How? Tikki thought as she brought her tiny hands up to her face. How can she possibly be the most intelligent while also being the densest holder I’ve had in a millennium? 
Tikki took a deep breath as she prepared to explain the situation for the millionth time. Marinette was going owe her so many cookies later
*********
Marinette was confused as hell, but that was nothing new. What was new was the source of her confusion. Oftentimes, when Marinette had a hunch or a gut feeling, she listened and that was it-- but this was different.
There was something unusual about Adrien Agreste. That was what Marinette knew. She also knew that she should not, and didn’t, trust Adrien Agreste. She knew that she had no real reason not to trust Adrien Agreste, as he had done nothing to her. 
Marinette knew that she was, at the very least, physically attracted to Adrien Agreste. 
Well, she didn’t know it-- not yet at least. And maybe that was why she had been ranting to Tikki for the past three hours-- getting an extensive lecture/explanation in return. Being a teenage superhero who fought evil purple butterflies with a punning leather catboy for a partner, there had to be some shred of normalcy in her life. If obsessing over the minute details of a five-minute interaction with a guy she didn’t like was her normal, then so be it. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. 
“Marinette” Tikki sounded like she wanted to drown herself in cookie batter. “I’m going to find something to eat. I’ll get back to you when you’ve calmed down a little”
Or that’s what she thought until something outside her window caught her eye--
An akuma. 
Damnit. Marinette knew she wasn’t exactly in the best headspace for fighting, but it wasn’t like she could coordinate certain dates with Hawkmoth. She chuckled aloud as a mental image of her, Chat, and Hawkmoth meeting at a round table popped into her head. 
“Ahem” came a noise from across the room. 
Marinette looked over at Tikki and nodded, transforming. She couldn’t help but wish for the absurd scenario as she soared above the buildings of Paris.
*********
“What’s the damage so far?” Ladybug asked as she landed right in sync on top of a building next to a running Chat Noir.
The past few months Chat Noir had been around, everything felt lighter. While Hawkmoth had most definitely been getting more intense, it seemed as if it didn’t matter as long as her partner was around. He was able to sense what needed to be done without asking or meticulously planning ahead, along with the fact that he was good with the press. While not as important, Ladybug treasured the fact that she didn’t have to worry about answering questions that required vague answers. 
They had become best friends as well. Despite not knowing the other’s identity, they knew each other inside and out. Ladybug couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the countless nights they had spent perched atop the Eiffel Tower, discussing everything from school to Hawkmoths identity to how different their lives would have been having never met. Or if one of them had been someone else. 
But there was something strange about him that she couldn’t figure out. Sure, there was the standard strangeness you would expect from a punning leather catboy, but there was something else as well. She saw it in the way he seemed to float a second longer than he should have whenever he was using his staff, or in the way his gaze lingered on shimmering patches of stars in the sky. How she had sometimes seen him whispering to the sun or moon… almost like a prayer. 
Ladybug eventually noticed that she and Chat had stopped running; he was calling her name, concerned. 
“You there M’lady?” 
She shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. So what are we looking at today?”
“Chemist from PSL Research University,” Chat began. “A coworker refused to take proper precautions before testing, which ended up hurting a couple of other chemists and about 4 interns.”
Ladybug sighed. “These are the worst kind.”
Chat nodded. “Right reason, wrong reaction.”
“Let’s get this over with?”
“Ready when you are bugaboo.”
*********
“Goddamnit,” Chat seethed as he and Ladybug ran into the sewers for a third transformation. 
Ladybug grumbled from around the corner. “I’m starting to lose sympathy for this guy.” She fed Tikki, and a pink light flashed just a second after Chat’s. “Ready to go?” 
“Just a minute.” He said before she got the chance to come around.
She fiddled with her yo-yo while she tried her best to think of a plan. So far, they had tried the lab coat, safety goggles, and ID. What more was there? 
The akuma’s design was simple enough. A pitch-black lab coat and neon yellow safety goggles-- really, Hawkmoth?-- along with their ID and a belt that held several different colored vials. Their hair stood up in an Einstein-like fashion, wild locks jutting out from all sections of their head, along with some sort of chemical that fizzed everywhere they stepped. How was that even possible?
Ladybug grimaced as she heard The Alchemist shouting from outside. “Grow a pair and show your damn faces! Why can’t Paris’ so-called heroes protect their city?” They were silent for a moment and Ladybug knew Hawkmoth must have been speaking to the victim. “Forget you both. I’ll get your miraculous and take care of this place myself. They don’t need you.”
The akuma-- or The Alchemist, as they named themselves-- had spent the better part of two hours spraying people with a liquid that kept them safe… while also making them invincible. Why the hell anyone, even an akuma, thought that would be a good idea was beyond her. 
With their newfound invincibility, people lost all inhibitions. 
In her three years of being Ladybug, the heroine had never seen havoc wreaked upon Paris like this. The streets were pure chaos as it seemed that the city’s lowest and most evil had come out of hiding. Looting, rioting, and arson could be seen anywhere you looked. She knew the screams from that night would haunt her forever, and she was sure she had seen a dead body or two somewhere. There had to be some other factor here. How could the city she had worked so hard to protect possibly be this self-destructive?
Marinette was afraid and stressed beyond belief. They had never faced anything as intense as this, what if they couldn’t fix it, what if Hawkmoth finally--
Wait… 
Momentarily pulling herself out of her thoughts, Ladybug heard a murmuring from around the corner. It was Chat Noir, but what was he doing?
“All I’m asking is that you help us out,” Chat muttered. “Just this once, then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”
Was he-- 
Was he praying?
“Thank’s in advance I guess. If not, screw you.”
Before Ladybug got the chance to say anything, Chat came around the corner with a grim look on his face. 
“Let’s get this over with,” He said. 
And they did. 
After three transformations, plans A through S, and several words Master Fu definitely wouldn’t have approved of, The Alchemist had finally been de-evilized. Once they left the sewers, Ladybug called upon her lucky charm once again and received a canister of liquid nitrogen and a test tube. Scooping a small amount of the fizzing chemical and freezing it, the substance froze in the form of a butterfly, then smashing it and fixing the damaged caused. Ladybug took a shaky breath before making her way towards Chat and the victim.
Horrified at the destruction his abilities had caused, the victim, Dr. Marcel Roux, apologized-- close to tears. Calming him down took a while, but after reassurance, they managed to find him a safe ride home. 
Despite the ladybugs fixing everything, Ladybug and Chat Noir both had a sinking feeling that some people weren’t returning home that night.
*********
Wishing both him and the driver a good night, she and Chat sat atop the Eifel Tower, exhausted. Being home was most likely the smartest and safest option, but after what they had seen that night neither of them wanted to be alone with their thoughts that night. 
“Chat,�� she began. 
“Hmm,” came a noise. Ladybug turned to him to see that he was against one of the support beams. The moonlight hit his face, and Ladybug wondered how someone could look that angelic any time of day.
“You never told me you were religious.”
His eyes snapped open and his gaze was locked with hers. “What do you mean?” 
“Earlier,” she began. “While we were in the sewers, I heard you praying. Kind of a rude one but a prayer still.”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself religious. I don’t go to church or practice any religion, and I definitely don’t have any sort of relationship with the man upstairs,” Ladybug noticed that he seemed to give the sky some sort of look. Almost imperceptible, but he looked as if he was angry. “But I figure when you’re that low, a little wish can’t hurt.”
She hummed in response, then yawned as she looked over the city.
“I had no idea they were capable of something like that,” she said.
Her partner gave a grim chuckle in response. “Give someone enough power, they’ll do plenty of shit you weren’t expecting.”
Marinette knew he had a point, but there was a nagging feeling in her gut that something really wasn’t right. Of course she didn’t know the people of Paris that well. She had only been a hero for a short time, but to go from hopeful and faithful to complete anarchists was drastic and unlikely. 
Chat glanced over at her, seeing the gears in her mind turning and the worry on her face. He reached over and placed a hand on her knee.
“Tonight was weird, yeah. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified too. It's horrifying seeing the city we fight so hard to protect turn on itself like that--"
"You're really not helping, you know."
"That's ‘cause you didn't let me finish," She snorted and gestured for him to continue. "Sure, all that's true, but we have each other, and that's honestly all that matters."
She rolled her eyes at him as she stood, leaning on his staff for support. "You suck at pep talks."
He grinned and squatted back down to her level. "My point is, bugaboo, that no matter what happens, I’ll be here to get through it with you. The world could be ending, and it would be ok as long as you're next to me."
She knew she was blushing and turned away as he chuckled. 
"I should get home, Chat." She smiled at his wounded dog expression. "Some of us have curfews you know."
Chat Noir grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Until we meet again My Lady." He turned away from her and vaulted off the Eifel. She watched him freefall and he spun in mid-air to face her, winking and giving her a two-finger salute.
He eventually disappeared behind buildings in the distance. Ladybug swung away, grinning stupidly at her partners' antics. While Chat had done his best to reassure her, doubt seeped into her mind. It didn't seem normal for the people of Paris to have that sort of reaction. 
What also wasn’t normal was the pair of glowing red eyes watching her from down below as she made her way home. 
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boreothegoldfinch · 3 years
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chapter 11 paragraph x
In the car, out on the main road again, all was jubilation: laughter, high fives, while my heart was slamming so hard I could barely breathe. “What’s going on?” I rasped, several times—gulping for breath and looking back and forth between them and then, when they kept ignoring me, babbling in a percussive mix of Russian and Ukrainian, all four of them including Shirley Temple: “Angliyski!” Boris turned to me, wiping his eyes, and slung his arm around my neck. “Change of plans,” he said. “That was all on the fly—improvised. We could have asked for nothing better. Their third man didn’t show.” “Catching them short-handed.” “Flatfooted.” “Pants down! On the crapper!” “You”—I had to gasp to get the words out—“you said no guns.” “Well, no one got hurt, did they? What difference does it make?” “Why didn’t we just pay?” “Because we lucked out!” Throwing up his arms. “Once in a lifetime chance! We had the opportunity! What were they going to do? They were two —we were four. If they had any sense, they should never have let us inside. And—yes, I know, only forty thousand, but why should I pay them one cent if I don’t have to? For stealing my own property?” Boris chortled. “Did you see the look on his face? Grateful Dead? When Cherry whipped him back of the dome?” “You know what he was complaining about, the old goat?” said Victor, turning to me jubilantly. “Wanted it in Euros! ‘What, dollars?’ ” imitating his peevish expression. “ ‘You brought me dollars?’ ” “Bet he wishes he had those dollars now.” “I bet he wishes he kept his mouth shut.” “I’d like to hear that phone call to Sascha.” “I wish I knew the name of the guy. That stood them up. Because I would like to buy him a drink.” “Wonder where he is?” “He is probably at home in the shower.” “Studying his Bible lesson.” “Watching ‘Christmas Carol’ on television.” “Waiting at the wrong place, most like.”
“I—” My throat was so constricted I had to swallow to speak. “What about that kid?” “Eh?” It was raining, light rain pattering on the windshield. Streets black and glistening. “What kid?” “Boy. Girl. Kitchen boy. Whatever.” “What?” Cherry turned—still winded, breathing hard. “I didn’t see anyone.” “I didn’t either.” “Well, I did.” “What’d she look like?” “Young.” I could still see the freeze-frame of the young ghostly face, mouth slightly open. “White coat. Japanese-looking.” “Really?” said Boris curiously. “You can tell apart by looking? Like where they are from? Japan, China, Vietnam?” “I didn’t get a good look. Asian.” “He, or she?” “I think is all girls that work in the kitchen there,” said Gyuri. “Macrobyotik. Brown rice and like that.” “I—” Now I really wasn’t sure. “Well—” Cherry ran his hand over the top of his close-cropped hair —“glad she ran, whoever, because you know what else I found back there? Sawed-off Mossberg 500.” Laughter and whistles at this. “Shit.” “Where was it? Grozdan didn’t—?” “No. In a—” he gestured, to indicate a sling—“what do you call it. Hanging under the table, in some cloth like. Just happened to see it when I was down on the floor. Like—looked up. There it was, right over my head.” “You didn’t leave it there, did you?” “No! I wouldn’t have minded to take it except was too big and had my hands full. Unscrewed it and knocked the pin out and threw it in the alley. Also—” he pulled a silver snub-nosed pistol out of his pocket, which he passed over to Boris—“this!” Boris held it up to the light and looked at it. “Nice little conceal-carry J-frame. Ankle holster in those bell bottom jeans! But to his misfortune he was not quick enough.” “Flexcuffs,” said Gyuri to me, with slightly inclined head. “Vitya thinks ahead.” “Well—” Cherry wiped the sweat from his broad forehead—“they are light and slim to carry, and they have saved me many times shooting people. I do not like to hurt anyone if I don’t have to.” Medieval city: crooked streets, lights draped on bridges and shining off rain-peppered canals, melting in the drizzle. Infinity of anonymous shops, twinkling window displays, lingerie and garter belts, kitchen utensils arrayed like surgical instruments, foreign words everywhere, Snel bestellen, Retro-stijl, Showgirl-Sexboetiek. “Back door was open to the alley,” said Cherry, elbowing off his sports coat and swigging from a bottle of vodka which Shirley T. had produced from under the front seat—hands a bit shaky and his face, the nose particularly, glowing a flagrant, stressed-out, Rudolph red. “They must have left it open for him—their third man—to come in at the back. I closed it and locked it— made Grozdan close and lock it, gun to his head, he was snivel and crying like baby—” “That Mossberg,” Boris said to me, accepting the bottle passed over the front seat. “Evil dirty thing. Sawed off—? sprays pellets here to Hamburg. Aim it way the fuck away from everyone and still you will hit half the people in the room.” “Good trick, no?” said Victor Cherry philosophically. “To say your third man is not there? ‘Wait five minutes, please’? ‘Sorry, mix up’—? ‘He will be here any moment’? While he is all the time in back with the shotgun. Good double cross, if they had thought of it—” “Maybe they did think of it. Why else have the gun back there?” “I think we had a narrow miss, is what I think—” “There was one car pulled up front, scared Shirley and me,” said Gyuri, “while you were all in there, two guys, we thought we were in the shit but was only two gays, French guys, looking for restaurant—” “—but no one in the back, thank God, I got Grozdan on the floor and cuffed him to radiator,” Cherry was saying. “Ah, but—!” he held up the felt-wrapped package—“first. This. For you.”
He handed it over the seat to Gyuri, who—gingerly, with his fingertips, as if it were a tray he might spill—passed it to me. Boris—downing his slug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—chucked me gaily in the arm with the bottle while humming we wish you a merry Christmas we wish you a merry Christmas. Package on my knees. Running my hands all around the edge. The felt was so thin that I sensed the rightness of it immediately with my fingertips, the texture and weight were perfect. “Go on,” said Boris, nodding, “better open it, make sure it’s not the Civics book this time! Where was it?” he asked Cherry as I began to fumble with the string. “Dirty little broom closet. Piece-of-shit plastic briefcase. Grozdan took me right to it. I thought he might fuck around a bit but burner at the head was all it took. No sense getting popped when all that good space cake still around for the taking.” “Potter,” said Boris, trying to get my attention; and then again: “Potter.” “Yes?” Lifting the briefcase. “This 40 rocks is going to Gyuri and Shirley T. Keeping them green. For services rendered. Because it is thanks to these two that we did not pay Sascha one cent for the favor of stealing your property. And Vitya—” reaching across to clasp his hand—“we are more than equal now. The debt is mine.” “No, I can never repay what I owe you, Borya.” “Forget it. Is nothing.” “Nothing? Nothing? Not true, Borya, because this very night I carry my life because of you, and every night until the last night…” It was an interesting story he was telling, if I’d had ears to listen to it— someone had fingered Cherry for some unspecified but apparently very serious crime which he had not committed, nothing to do with, perfectly innocent, the guy had rolled for reduced prison time and unless Cherry, in turn, wanted to roll on his higher-ups (“unwise to do, if I wish to keep breathing”), he was looking at ten sticks and Boris, Boris had saved the day because Boris had tracked down the slimebag, in Antwerp and out on bail, and the story of how he had done this was very involved and enthusiastic and Cherry was getting choked up and sniffing a bit and there was more and it seemed to involve arson and bloodshed and something to do with a power saw but by that point I wasn’t hearing a word because I’d gotten the string untied and streetlights and watery rain reflections were rolling over the surface of my painting, my goldfinch, which—I knew incontrovertibly, without a doubt, before even turning to look at the verso—was real. “See?” said Boris, interrupting Vitya right in the heat of his story. “Looks good, no, your zolotaia ptitsa? I told you we took care of it, didn’t I?” Running my fingertip incredulously around the edges of the board, like Doubting Thomas across the palm of Christ. As any furniture dealer knew, or for that matter St. Thomas: it was harder to deceive the sense of touch than sight, and even after so many years my hands remembered the painting so well that my fingers went to the nail marks immediately, at the bottom of the panel, the tiny holes where (once upon a time, or so it was said) the painting was nailed up as a tavern sign, part of a painted cabinet, no one knew. “He still alive back there?” Victor Cherry. “Think so.” Boris dug an elbow in my ribs. “Say something.”
But I couldn’t. It was real; I knew it, even in the dark. Raised yellow streak of paint on the wing and feathers scratched in with the butt of the brush. One chip on the upper left edge that hadn’t been there before, tiny mar less than two millimeters, but otherwise: perfect. I was different, but it wasn’t. And as the light flickered over it in bands, I had the queasy sense of my own life, in comparison, as a patternless and transient burst of energy, a fizz of biological static just as random as the street lamps flashing past. “Ah, beautiful,” said Gyuri amiably, leaning in to look at my right side. “So pure! Like a daisy. You know what I am trying to express?” he said, nudging me, when I did not answer. “Plain flower, alone in a field? It’s just —” he gestured, here it is! amazing! “Do you know what I am saying?” he asked, nudging me again, only I was still too dazed to reply. Boris in the meantime was murmuring half in English and half Russian to Vitya about the ptitsa as well as something else I couldn’t quite catch, something about mother and baby, lovely love. “Still wishing you had phoned the art cops, eh?” he said, slinging his arm around my shoulder with his head close to mine, exactly as when we were boys. “We can still phone them,” said Gyuri, with a shout of laughter, punching me on the other arm. “That’s right, Potter! Shall we? No? Maybe not such a good idea any more, eh?” he said across me, to Gyuri, with a raised eyebrow.
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kittymaverick · 3 years
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That Time of the Year Again (tm): Get ready for MCF 21: the Harbinger commentary!
It’s that time of the year yet again! Mystery Case Files 21: The Harbinger commentary. If anyone has been waiting for the hilarity that is my commentaries, I’m sorry I’m late this year. I actually started working as a freelance writer, and projects are coming in hot. Plus a recent family matter (not COVID-related. I’m thankfully in one of the safest places from it.) meant I had to put this on a back-burner. And then I guess I left it there for too long and triggered the smoke alarm, and people entered my inbox going “Are you okay???” So without further ado, let’s get this started. *cracks fingers* I have DUAL MONITORS NOW which means I can see my commentary AND watch the playthrough at the same time. (Yet, I still DON’T have a credit card. This is the new running joke.) I’m going to be watching YouGib’s playthough. Pazu also has his playthrough up. Spoilers below the cut as usual!
First, Grandma? A new studio? (A quick google shows they have done quite a bit of HOP titles and series.) Welcome to the MCF family! I hope you’re ready for the roasting that’s ahead. 8D MD: You mean the roasting they’ll let me do, right? I don’t know if they would be so nice as to grant you such catharsis right away. MD: Damn… It’s Grandma though. There’ll at least be cookies, right?
I like how “The” is in a place where you can almost read it as “The Mystery Case Files”, which MCF honestly deserves at this point. 21 years! That’s old enough to drink in the US!
(MD: Hm, old fashion building and clothes? Are we having some anachronistic adventure again--) CAT. Black cat. This is Isis. (MD: Not all black cats are Isis…) Yes they are. They are to me--
*Crystal ball* SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Captions: (Otherworldly scream) Why yes, yes game, thank you for describing my exact reaction to seeing that darn crystal ball. I love this self-awareness and I hope it stays.
Oh nooooo, green beam of light… (Green was the color of souls used in old Ravenhearst games, and also the type of light that the Archivist from Moths to a Flame evaporated into, iirc.)
MD: Hm, a harbinger usually means something worse is coming up. So who’s harbinger to whom I wonder? Well you could say Emma, Madame Fate, or Victor was the harbinger to Charles, and then Charles himself was a harbinger to Alistair, who apparently was harbinger to the twins, who were also harbinger to Alistair again-- MD: Yes, I know, thank you, please stop. --and then he was harbinger to a Lord Ravenhearst who we never saw again, and then we picked it up again somehow to Phineas Crown though that was much earlier and the pirate was a harbinger of himself in a sense. In fact, I guess in a metasense, you could say each MCF game is a harbinger of the next-- MD: You haven’t even gotten past the opening so PLEASE STOP.
Hm, game difficulty settings-- no Master Detective level. Ten marks off. :( MD: Okay that’s unfair. Also Hardcore is one word. MD: Hey, I’m the pyromaniac, okay? Chill! (Me at recording: pick helpful messages, pick it! PICK IT!)
OH, a CHOICE?! Oh, wait, it’s just the main game and extra content.
THEY GAVE YOU YOUR BUGGY BACK. THEY GAVE IT BAAAAACK. AAAAAHHH. MD: Interior’s a little different, but yes, I HAVE MY CAR BACK AND NOTHING CAN STOP ME NOW. MWAHAHAHA-- Queen: Something strange is happening in Darkmoor. MD: *Does a 180 and goes back home* [The end.] Just kidding. :P I love how all the names of the places we’re going to immediately screams DANGER. MD: If I turned back every time I heard a name like that, I would be a very different person today. Probably saner, less salty, and generally happier.
It took me a while to see clearly, but the bobblehead looks like default MD (the costume seems to be inspired by the Fate Carnival collectibles)! We can now safely assume that MD is either really afraid of the cold, or very, very desperately trying to hide their identity. MD: Don’t tell anyone… but the getup is like a security blanket. ...One that you wear?! MD: Shhhhhh not so loud…….
Queen: Several keywords related to your previous cases-- What keywords? What are they? MD: Ravenhearst? Souls? Pirates? Skulls? Crystal Ball? Madame Fate? Dire Grove? Death herself? Queen: I’m not revealing this mystery… it’ll give the whole plot away! ...Okay, I’m putting ten on Victor, twenty on Charlotte, thirty on Alistar, and a hundred on Charles-- MD: You CHEATER you were spoiled while GOOGLING. --actually, I should do a bingo board instead. Yeah, I’m gonna do that. (And then she spends ten minutes wasting time on that, before giving up. We are at… 2 minutes in of the playthrough. This is normal.)
Queen: We’ve detected a possible energy anomaly-- MD: I’m sorry, we have DONE WHAT?! You guys have technology for that??? MD: Where was this technology for like…. The past ten cases? I really could have used some of that before heading in! (Somewhere in the world, the Mystery Tracker detective hides his gadgets…) (Post video edit: Speaking off, he seems to have gone UFO now.)
*Radio fizzes out* MD: That’s not good. Um… UP AHEAD. MD: THAT’S REALLY NOT GOOD. DETECTIVE TAKE THE WHEEL!!!! MD: THIS BUGGY IS STILL ON MORTGAGE NO. (And the MD, the bobblehead, literally lost their head, lol.)
Gibs is definitely feeling the stylistic difference. I personally don’t think it detracts from the game right now, and if anything, it can open new avenues for MCF to explore. Also, awwww it’s not our old buggy, but hey, I like the red!
MD: Okay… agency device. Better use this to scan for creepy crawly energies. I’m so sad it’s not something you can get attached to… MD: I’m pretty damn attached to my new car, thank you very much. Well, the windshield is already broken, so I think it’s been marked as “readily expendable” emotionally. :P (Machine sort of reminds me of the old machine from Huntsville, actually… which did appear again in… Rewind?)
Wow, that royal decree is like… a permission slip from mom. XD MD: Enough to get people’s attention, but not enough for them to treat me seriously. You would think with lives at stake, they would send something more official? MD: If they did, I might just be out of a job, because half of my job seems to involve waiting for people to get in trouble. Also, marking this officer Davis down as “guy who might get into trouble later and need rescuing”.
...Okay, you know what the device could have been? A portable TV head. MD: I will PUNT that metal box so hard if they handed me one! Missed moment of creepy, honestly.
“The agency never ceases to amaze me”??? MD: I meant that in both the “wow, I can’t believe this is what you used our money on!” and the “wow, I can’t believe this is where you used our money instead of that other really important thing we could have had” sense. Never cease to amaze you in how disappointed you are at them, then. MD: After our last security breach, yes.
Solved Case Files, omg. And you carry it on your car.XD MD: The therapist said I needed to “express my outrage” more healthily than arson. And you made the WORLD NEWS???? Whatever happened to being the most secretive person in the world?! MD: Shhhhh let them keep guessing… (Also, Bobblehead isn’t our MD, it seems. A case of mistaken identity. Awww….)
Guy in purple: I didn’t do anything wrong! Hm, this guy is sus… also, we’re in the UK, confirmed? MD: ...As if the name didn't’ give it already. Also, SIR, SIR, YOU DROPPED YOUR purse……. Well I guess it’s my purse now.
Tarot cards as collectibles! More Madame Fate coming up?
Wow, that police station entrance was a time machine. We’re back in modern-day old town England! MD: ….pattern on floor, sus… Aaaaand power outage. Cue bars. Policeman trapped. Oops. MD: Number of people that needed rescuing is now one, and is exactly as I predicted.
Police: Um, can you come closer? I dunno man, you behind bars, pretty sus. Maybe you’re not a real police. Police: Oh please. We talking real? How about your prove you’re the real Master Detective-- MD: *Hands Queen’s note* Police: Right that’ll work. (We didn’t get to flash our badge?!)
Wait, you’re in a ROYAL AGENCY??? Did you.... change agencies or something??? MD: After the last game, can you really blame me if a headhunter came asking? Me: No but… you work for the CROWN???? MD: Hey, if me collecting stories for Grandma Queen wasn’t obvious enough, I don’t know what else to say.
Wow, an ACTUAL FLASH DRIVE. We’re actually in modern day society. XD Albeit one with really industrial looking computers. (Now I need to go and check if the old games used floppy disks…)
Witness 1: It’s not like she has a crystal ball! Suspect purple: Yeah, I’m a fair owner. Girl Aisling is a fortune reader. ...Madame Fate, Madame FATE, MADAME FATE. MD: Okay, maybe that cat WAS Isis after all. Guy: She likes watching ravens. MD and I, simultaneously: FUCK.
I have to say, the puzzles are quite refreshingly different from ones that have appeared in the past. Me likey.
Gibs sees victim photo on autopsy table: What a handsome devil he is! Me: *Dies laughing and fails to make comments for a while*
Oh wow, you can write coherently again! Actual journals! Clear sketches! (Actual cutscene replay???? TWENTY POINTS.) MD: Therapy can be a wonderful thing sometimes. ...Please tell me you’re talking actual therapy and not “I got to explode a ship and the pirates on it” therapy. MD: Well, that counts as therapy still, right?
Okay Madame Fate, if you have a daughter, or this is your granddaughter, please just descend from heaven and let us know right now. (...wait, didn’t Madame Fate have a son? The really big eater guy? Franco!) That said, it says the veil of time, which might be an allusion to the Dark Veil too.
Omg a FAX MACHINE.
Davis: Right, good luck heading into town to the victim’s home! MD: Yep! Thanks for being a rare competent soul in this universe! Really appreciate the help-- [Rose street.] MD: ...Is it too late to turn back? Yes, yes it is entirely too late. 8D Let’s gooooooooo! MD: *sighs*.
SHADOW IN JAMES’ HOUSE! SHADOW! MD: Probably Nigel. He was sneaking around already.
MENTION Of CAT. CAT. MD: ...are you broken? ...Yes. (It’s nearing 1 am. So Kitty commentary might be retroactive below.)
Huh, HOP has sections that unlock objects like in Dark Parables. Neat!
Well, well, well, what do we have here? Small town drama as usual. MD: The predictable disappointment of human nature. Why can’t I just have cases that deal with that? No supernatural stuff, just little town murder mysteries. Little Town Mystery Case Files, coming to a store near you soon! (I’ll be honest, Grandma, I would play that once, just to have MD be completely paranoid over nothing actually supernatural.)
Santa Claus Beard Guy: I hope I didn’t scare you. MD: I’ve had undead grip me through the window. A little shadow doesn’t spook me. A family whose last name begins with a D though rattles them. MD: Please don’t give away my weaknesses so quickly...
Santa Guy: So the cat kicked my ass. Can you get me some medicine? MD: Sure thing. BTW, where is this cat, and how can I recruit it to kick the asses of my enemies?
Eeeeehhhh complex door puzzles are back! Except they are now complex cupboard puzzles.
WOOOOOOOOOW that’s a LYNX if I ever saw one! MD: Hey, remember how I say I’m not good with animals? Too bad, grab the pet carrier, you’ll need it. MD: ...please don’t scratch me. Cat: *Roars* MD: *flips shit, runs and hides*
James has visited the Museum of Mysteries… And what’s with the MCF crest in his diary??? MD: Wait… Allison? ALLISON THE REPORTER??? Omg, James is her BROTHER. THEY HAVE THE SAME LAST TIME EVEN OMG. MD: ……….. I’m NOT going to be the deliverer of this bad news. Hey MD, does that curse that surrounds people associated with you extend to their families? MD: Thank you for going where my brain didn’t want to, now kindly proceed no further. Just morbidly wondering…...
MD: They… they visited all the places that my cases took place. EVEN A HOUSE I REPORTED BURNED DOWN AND EXPLODED. AND THEN CAMPED OUT IN DIRE GROVE. MY GODS ALMIGHTY YOU TWO!!!! ...These siblings don’t have a lot of self-preservation sense, huh? MD: There are some things that should NOT run in the family. This is one of them. (I’ll be honest. Just… HOW can the MD process this kind of guilt??? Kudos to you, Grandma Studios. This is possibly the most evil story choice ever, and you went there. Slow, claps. Seriously. That said there is a small plothole here with James saying he was there when MD rescued Allison. I think that might be a translation/grammar error though.)
Journal: Oh btw John worked on the Ravenhearst manor restoration. MD: *grabs John* WHY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME AND TO THE WORLD?! John: Um….. it was work? MD: SOME PLACES ARE BETTER OFF GONE. Hey, look on the bright side. You can burn it down again as therapy! John: Oh btw, I made the elaborate locks-- MD: *Begins to strangle John* NO HOMICIDES MASTER DETECTIVE! You investigate them, not commit them! MD: TELL ME THAT AFTER I’M DONE.
MD: Okay, John. Let me be clear on one thing. You are now number one sus on my list of “The person that’s gonna betray me in the end” right now, and probably staying there. If you turn out to be one of the Dalimars or their crony in disguise, I will END YOU. Are we clear? John: ………… MD: What? John: You’re more terrifying than James’ cat--
*Another prevention of homicide later…* MD: Alright, fine. Containers, opened. Toy, fixed. “Cat”, got. Now take it and get out. John: Thanks, here is the final piece to that closet door that I totally have been keeping from you this whole time. ….Seriously???? MD: ….Like I said, top of my shitlist. *Reads the closet puzzle poem* On second thought GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE I HAVE QUESTIONS!
James is the greatest dork. He locked his special diary entries with a lock. I’m so sad we didn’t get to meet him in person. Though that said... MD: My gods, some common sense is really missing from this family’s mind. Seeds from the carnival?! A cube from probably dire grove??? How does it feel knowing you contributed indirectly to his demise? 8D MD: ...It’s like seeing someone win the Darwin award and feeling bad that you are the one handing the trophy to them.
Davis: Oh hey, a cassette? Let me go and get the camera for it. We’ll meet later! MD: Wait a second, you’re gonna end up dead if you do that! Davis: No, I’m gonna be fine! Here’s a ticket to the night market! Have fun! MD: …… ...More Darwin award nominations? MD: No. Awww….
Marge: Oh hi detective! Thank you for saving me and my daughter so many years ago! MD: …. Who are you again? *Goes to google* Oh, she’s that woman from Reverant’s Hunt…. MD: Ah, the gossip hen. My gods what’s with this town and its inhabitants… It’s like all the people connected to you which fate has yet to kill are all showing up again for a chance of going to the afterlife! 8Db MD: That would be the worst lottery ever. All in the life of being Master Detective’s friend! Forecast for percent of death: high! MD: *curls up in a corner to be depressed*
Nigel: What do you want? MD: Here are your seeds. Nigel: Okay I’m gone! MD: Right, now Aisling-- WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING. Crow: Caw-caw! MD: You, you’re not Crowlister, but if you are responsible, I will make you one very bald bird.
Okay, soooooo what do we do? MD: Removed what the device can. Guess we’re down to brewing this… tea... ...I think you need this tea more than her, honestly.
“I expect these MCF references now.” XD I think the 4th wall has just been shattered into oblivion.
Aisling: I see death all around you Master Detective! MD: Thank you for stating the obvious that has been made abundantly clear by the past hour and a half of plot. Davis: Hey waddap? MD: ….*breaks down sobbing* YOU’RE STILL ALIVE THANK GOODNESS! *hugs Davis* Davis: Um… what’s going… anyway, you should look at the video.
MD: Nigel! This video here suggests something. Want to talk before I make you? Nigel: This proves nothing! Now go away, I have preparations to-- Noooooooooo! *Nigel is swallowed by the earth* ……...MD? MD: NOT IT. WASN’T ME. DEFINITELY NOT ME! You saw that right, Davis? Davis: Oh no, he’s dead! Guess we’ll need to exhume him. MD: Now hold on, that reaction is just WAAAAAY TO BLAND.
(Watched a little bit ahead. I have some theories on who Aisling might be, since Gib’s thumbnail does appear to hint at it. We’ll see where it goes!)
(Aaaaand I was right!)
[Here ends entry one. Part two is going to be even more retroactive...]
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psycheswritings · 4 years
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Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Nine
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Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)
Warnings: Swearing, a little misogyny and a lot of angst.
Word Count: 4795
Author's Note: So, how have you all been? Good, I expect. This chapter is a little, well, angsty. There is a lot of emotions going around and things start to go wrong for everyone. I will post the playlist for the fic soon but I warn you, I'll break your heart there might be some spoilers in the lyrics. The music recommended for this chapter is "Big Guns" by Ruelle. A big, huge thank you for everybody who still reads the fic even after nine ass long chapters. Be prepared for a lot more. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter; tags are at the end of the post and if you want to be added, let me know. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Masterlist
Chapter Summary: Tommy discovers that Arthur and Michael are in prison and confronts Campbell about it. When Daphne discovers the whole ordeal about Arthur's prison, she and Alfie have a discussion that doesn't end all that well.
Nine
Things were going smoothly for the Shelby family - the pubs in London were earning a god profit, the exportation of the alcohol had encountered no hindrance so far and then there was Daphne, that had finally give in to his advances. Tommy should have expected that something would go wrong, because things had always been like that for them. It had been this way when his mom died and his father ran away, it had been like that with the war, this time was no different.
“We had a deal.” He entered the church to find the irishman on his usual spot, reading the newspaper. “Hey! We had a fucking deal!”
“I would think that you would moderate your language in a place of worship.” His tone didn’t conceal the disdain and Tommy has had enough of the attitude, so he rips the paper out of Campbell’s hands and throws it away, pointing a finger to the policeman’s face.
“We had a fucking deal.”
“Mr. Shelby, if you read the papers, you might have seen that the Home Secretary has got himself into a bit of a fizz about certain moral issues. Prostitution, protection, racketeering, drinking, cocaine and, of course, gambling. He has demanded results.” As the Irishman lectures, Tommy starts to pace around, breath uneven, trying his best to not let his anger take over. He had to think of a way to get them out of this situation.
“You offered me protection. You promised me protection.”
“Well, no, you see it was Mr. Churchill that made you that promise. And the Home Secretary outranks him, so…” Campbell observes as Tommy walks around before saying. “And I can hardly be blamed if your demented brother decided to go on some sort of blood orgy during dinner.” The little patience that the gangster had was gone and as he approaches the policeman he is already shouting at him.
“Don't fucking lie to me! Do not sit here in your fucking church and lie to me!”
“You will need to contain your emotions or this meeting is at an end.” Tommy faces Campbell for a moment, his only wish is to put a bullet through his head, has been for a long time, but he tries his best to regain his composure, stepping back from the man and turning his back from him, resting his hands on the benches on the other side of the aisle. “Good. That's better. So, let us review the new situation. I have your brother in a prison cell charged with the murder of Billy Kitchen. The case against him is strong and I have no doubt that his destiny is to hang. And then there is Polly's son, Michael. He has already admitted to helping Arthur burn down the Marquis pub. He was a tough nut to crack, that boy, but crack he did. So I have your brother facing the noose, I have your cousin facing five years for arson. And I have your entire organization in disarray in Birmingham and in London.”
“What do you want?” Tommy asks, facing the policeman again.
“What do I want?!” Campbell looks at the gangster like he is not making sense at all. “I don't understand.”
“I have already agreed to do your fucking killing for you. Now, what is it you want from me?” Tommy’s voice is low and he punctuates every word. Campbell stands up from the bench to get closer to the gangster and the younger man just observes him, trying to conceal his anger.
“There you go, you see. An agreement is not the same thing as an assurance, now, is it? You see, I found I wasn't sleeping so well. It wasn't just the smell and the noise in that room, no. It was the nagging doubt. The knowledge… The knowledge that Tommy Shelby is not afraid to die. Therefore, the threat to your own life might not be enough to make it certain that you will obey me on the given day. I needed also the power of life and death over your family. And that I now have. Your brother, your cousin and your sister. I have known her address in Primrose Hill since the day she moved i, she is safe only as long as I want her to be. I have been ahead of you every step of the way. And, as my father used to say, to make sure your dog obeys you, you have to show it the stick once in a while.” He holds his cane up, as to illustrate his words, before walking out of the church, the echoes of the walking stick filling the air as Tommy stands there, weighing down his options.
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“Tommy, Arthur is in solitary confinement. Michael is in the remand wing of…” Lizzie follows him when he enters the office, but he is only partially registering what she is saying to him, the sound of the telephone ringing on the background.
“I already know. Get out, shut the doors.” She does as he says and Tommy sits on his desk, hands resting on the wood, eyes observing the telephone before he picks it up.
“Tommy? It's me. Tommy, can you hear me?” It’s impossible to not recognize the voice and the gangster is not sure about the way it makes him feel.
“Yes, Grace.”
“I think you called. I haven't slept.” He takes a deep breath before answering.
“Grace, this is not a good time.”
“I can call you back.” There is a hint of desperation on her voice, like she is clinging to something, a thread of hope perhaps. He should expect that, between her proposal before she left to America and the letters she kept sending him even when he didn’t answer none of them, even after she married, but part of him still felt a little surprised by her tone.
“No, it's fine. It's all right.”
“Can we meet?” The words had barely left his lips when she talks again and something occurs to Tommy - maybe this is the chance he has to balance things between him and Campbell and find out once and for all how he feels about her.
“Yes. We'll meet.”
“When?”
“Grace, there are some things I have to do first.”
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Tommy entered the Shelby house to find Polly sitting at the table in the room connected to the betting shop, smocking. He walked past her, entering the other room where John, Esme and Finn where waiting. Stooding near the table, hands behind his back, he prepared himself to survey the damage containment. “John?”
“The coppers have lifted ten of our men in Camden Town, the rest of them are on the run.”
“Tom, they've taken Michael.” It was Finn, clearly worried about his cousin’s situation.
“Business first.”Was all Tommy said to his brother to silence the boy.
“They took Michael last night...” Polly got up from her seat, clearly exasperated by the fact that her son was now in jail. All she wanted was a way to get him out, business be damned.
“I said business first.”
“They picked him up…” Tommy didn’t let her finish, raising his voice and looking at her as he said.
“Polly, business first!” She leaned into the doorframe, restless, her nephew ignored that, turning to look at his brother. “John?”
“They took all our whisky, so no doubt they'll be supping that for Christmas. They've impounded all our vans, put their own locks on the warehouse. The Eden Club and all our pubs have been raided by the coppers and handed back to Sabini and Solomons.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “The Black Country boys think it was Arthur that killed Billy because that's what the coppers told them. So there'll be no more free passes for our whisky boats.”
“I don't give a fuck about whisky. I don't give a fuck about Billy Kitchen. I want my son out of prison. Now.” Polly came forward talking directly at Thomas.
“Thomas, I spoke to Johnny Dogs...”
“This meeting should just be family.” The older woman interrupts Esme, not boring herself to look at the girl.
“I can help.” John’s wife protests but Polly directs her answer to Tommy again.
“It's family only, she is not blood, Tommy!”
“Let her speak.” The gangster says, trying to maintain his voice low.
“Or is this a business? Have you forgotten…”
“Enough!” He screams looking at his aunt. “Enough, Polly.” The man turns to his sister-in-law. “Esme?”
“I spoke to Johnny Dogs. The Lees are kin.”
“The bloody Lees!” Polly exclaims, not believing that Tommy is really considering the offer.
“They can give us men!” Esme argues.
“We don't need more fucking men! It's men that have done the damage! It... It... is men fighting like cockerels that have put us here in the first place.” Tommy just ignores his aunt outburst, knowing that she is not thinking rationally because of Michael’s situation.
“Esme, I'll take up their offer. We need men.” He takes a brief look at Polly, who stares at him, shaking her head before taking a step closer to him.
“If Michael ever gets out of prison, I am taking him away from this family. For good.” She marches up to Finn, taking the young boy by the arm, all the while Tommy observes her, quiet. “This life is bad. This life is all bad.”
“Aunt Pol, what are you doing?” The youngest Shelby protests as she forces him out of the room with her.
“Shut up and walk.” There’s just him, John and Esme on the betting shop now. They listen to the door opening and then closing. Tommy leans his hands into fists on the table, before sitting down on the chair in front of John.
“Thomas? Should I go and speak to Queen Mary Lee at the Black Patch?” Esme takes a step closer to her husband, watching as Thomas rests his elbows on the table, hands intertwined together in front of his mouth.
“Yes.”
“She can give us soldiers for a few nights.” She says and he just murmurs.
“Mm, good.” Fingers moving restlessly as he looks down onto the table, mind racing to think of solutions.
“John, go and bring up the car.” The other Shelby looks up at his wife, that just nods her head towards the door. He gets up from the chair, giving a last glance at his brother who is still silent, then he picks up his hat and leaves. Esme walks to the door to certifie herself that he really left before coming back to the table and inclining herself on the table to get closer to her brother-in-law. “Imagine riding away, Thomas. Living the real life, you know? Your Gypsy half is the stronger. You just want to ride away.” Thomas looks up at her, just observing quietly as she talks. “France is the new place for us, they say. Lot of metal lying around still. Guns and trucks and spent shells and things. Then you go south. Saintes-Maries, where the Black Madonna is. My brothers go sometimes for the fair. It's like a home for us. They still let you get lost there.” He lowers his hands to the table and leans closer to her, speaking low and calmly.
“I've been to France, Esme. So has John. Now get your coat and go with your husband.” The gangster just observes her for a moment, before taking her face between the fingers of his left hand. “And if you ever talk about getting lost again, I will cut you from this family.” After he releases her, Esme looks around, as to make a point, before speaking.
“What family?” And then she leaves and Thomas can’t help to think that she is not all wrong.
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Daphne doesn’t see Alfie before going to the bakery that morning, what she finds a little strange, because they usually go to work together, but she brushes it off as overthinking. Yet, things get weirder as she approaches the bakery and all the man go dead silent as she passes then. She ignores it too, like she ignores the little remnants of blood on the floor and the fact that Ollie seems more nervous than usual around her. That is until she has to get out of her office to ask something to Ollie and overhears a conversation between two of their employees - a conversation about the prison of one of the gypsy brothers.
She stops dead on her tracks, the two men see her and look at each other like they’ve just seem a ghost, until Ollie shoo them away, looking back at her with a very frightened expression. It’s then that it all comes weighing down on her - Alfie’s extrange behavior for all these past months, the fact that he wanted her out of the house last night, his cold demeanor towards her since the wedding.
Ollie tries to intercept her when she starts walking again but there is no stopping her as she storms through the corridor to Alfie’s office. Her breath is uneven and she has a hard time recognizing what exactly is the feeling bubbling under her skin - is it anger? Or maybe it’s betrayal but she can figure it out why she would feel that way. When she opens the door, unceremoniously, Alfie immediately looks up from whatever it is he is working on. He nods at Ollie, who is standing right behind her, and the younger man leaves, closing the door.
“You already know then?” There was no reason to pretend he didn’t know why she was there, he had been preparing himself for that all morning. Alfie reclines himself back into his chair, letting his glasses fall to his chest as he looks at her. She doesn’t sit on her usual chair, right in front of him, doesn’t think she can, not in the state she is in and that is his first sign of what is about to come.
“That’s what you’ve been hiding from me all along?” If he didn’t knew her so well, Alfie would think that she wasn’t unsettled by the news. Standing there, in the middle of his office, speaking to him without raising her voice, her speech did not falter, like this was just a normal conversation about the business and not the questioning that he knew it was, Daphne showed few signs of the raging battle roaring inside of her. She had always been good at concealing her feelings even when she was a kid, having been raised to be a proper lady, not letting others know that underneath all that pretense lived a real woman with real feelings.
“I knew you would vouch against it if I told ya.”
“Then you just decided that it was better to do it behind my back?” It was already bad enough to think the exact same thing on his head, hearing her said it out loud only made things ten times worse and he kinda hated himself for that.
“Look, love, I’ve told ya we were going to use them to win the war and then get rid of the fucking gypsies, haven’t I?” Rolling her eyes she asked him.
“Sabini is not a problem anymore then, is he?” Alfie almost swore under his breath - she was too damn perceptive, he had been fooling her for far more time than he thought was possible. The Jew took a deep breath before stating.
“We’ve made an agreement.” She laughs, humourless, hands resting on her waist before she traps him in her gaze.
“An agreement.” A pause. “Let me guess, he promised you that our bookies could go to Epsom this year in exchange of your help to get rid of the Blinders?” Daphne waits for him to say something, which he doesn’t, and she caughts herself massaging her temples as she paces around the room. “And like all the other times, he will deceive you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?” She snaps at his tone, walking to his desk, standing between the two chairs and propping her hands, closed into fists, on the wood.
“We have a written deal.” He tries to hold his ground but stops as he hears her laugh again, mockingly.
“A written deal, of course, how haven’t I thought of this before, huh?” Her hazel eyes search for his blue ones. “Tell me, Alfie, this is what you call winning a war?”
“What do you know about winning wars, Daphne?” He regrets the words the moment they left his mouth, specially when she flinches away from him, taking a step back from the desk.
“I know plenty about war, Alfred, you know that better than anyone.”
“Daph…” The Jew almost gets up from his seat but she stops him before he could finish the movement.
“Don’t.” Turning her back to him, Daphne closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to keep her cool. “What did you do?”
“We’ve taken all of the clubs back and Arthur is in prison.” She looked at him from over her shoulder.
“For what?”
“The murder of Billy Kitchen.”
“That was your plan all along?” She hears him exhale loudly before his voice is heard.
“Not in detail, but yeah, it was the plan since the beginning, aye.” 
“And you didn’t told me before… why?”
“Because you’ve turned soft, Daphne.” When she turned to face him his expression had changed, it’s like he was telling her something that is obvious. “I knew that from the moment that that fucking gypsy put foot on this bakery.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I knew you wouldn’t accept the deal with Sabinni because of Thomas.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk, hands intertwined, venon in his voice.
“Tommy has nothing to do with me thinking that this deal is bad for us.” She snaps back at him and this time he is the one who laughs.
“He has everything to do with it, love, because you love him.” He pauses to gauge her reaction. Daphne shakes her head in denial.
“You are out of your damn mind.”
“I am out of my mind?” He stands up, leaning onto his fists, his tone of voice higher than before. “Are you even hearing yourself and how much of a hypocrite you are being, huh? How’s he any different than all the ones we betrayed before him, huh? I will tell you the difference, the difference is that you’ve let yourself fall in love with him, that’s the fucking difference, innit?”
“You know me well enough to know that I would never let my feelings get in the way of the business.”
“You don’t deny it then? You do love him, don’t you?” She doesn’t answer him and that only seems to add fuel to the fire. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were already sneaking around with him, huh? Opening your…”
“STOP!” Her scream seems to get him out of his trance and the hurt in her eyes is like a knife to his heart. “Don’t say something that you will regret later. Don’t make me hate you, Alfie, because I don’t know if I can come back from that.” They just stare at each other for a long moment before she speaks again. “Why do you keep me around, Alfie? Why do you keep me around if you truly believe that I will betray you at the first opportunity I have?”
“Because I made a fucking promise…” His tone is lower and solemn but she doesn’t let him finish.
“Fuck you and your promises. It’s not me you have to worry about, Alfred, is yourself.” His expression softens and Alfie almost takes a step back at the sheer force of her words. “You push everyone around you away, always have something up your sleeve to try and gain something from everybody. You want to call me a hypocrite, fine, maybe I am, but so are you. Because you stand there, looking at me and talking about fucking promises when you’ve been lying to me for months in a row and even after all these years that I’ve been nothing but loyal to you, you have the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me that you’re afraid I would betray you for somebody else.”
“Daph…” He walks around the table to get closer to her but she steps back, not letting him talk or get closer to her.
“If I really wanted to do that you really think I would choose Thomas? That I would have waited all these years listening from everyone how crazy I was to still be around you, hearing people calling me your mistress and God knows what else behind my back. If I really wanted to betray you, Alfie, I would have done it a hell lot sooner, because that’s all that Sabini has been waiting.”
Silence fills the room and neither of them is really sure how many time has passed when she speaks again.
“I’m going home. I’ll be there tomorrow morning, don’t wait for me.” He reaches for her as she turns to leave, catching her wrist on his hand, forcing her to face him.
“Are you leaving?” There is a certain level of desperation on his voice and there is no mistaking the worry in his blue eyes, she almost caves in.
“Yes, I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?” Daphne takes a deep breath, holding his gaze.
“To a hotel. I need some time alone. I will still come to work, you don’t have to worry about that.”
“It’s not about the fucking work I’m worried about, innit?” There is silence again and she recognizes the conflict on his face. “And if I don’t let you go?”
“I’m not asking for your permission.” She breaks away from his hold and walks to the door while Alfie waits for her to look back. She doesn’t.
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“Where've you been?” Ada asks her aunt as she enters the room and sees her taking a bath.
“I went to the Spotted Dog in Digbeth for a glass or two of rum.” The younger woman observes her aunt and frowns, asking.
“Was it one glass or two?”
“It was three.” Polly looks around. “Where's the baby?”
“Sleeping.” Ada reclines herself into the couch. “More like five.” The older woman groans lightly, lifting her arms from the water to rest it on the rim of the tub ad look at her niece.
“It was more like six.” She reaches for the cigarette, resting on the ashtray on the table near her. “Did you meet the maid?”
“I talked politics with her, she got bored and went to bed.” They both chuckle at Ada’s statement. “I phoned James. He talked to the lawyer anyway. He said he'd take Arthur's case for free, so we don't need Tommy.” The older woman exhales loudly, clearly disturbed by the topic. “Pol? We'll get Michael free, as well, I promise.”
“There's no need, they're letting him out in the morning.” Her expression changes to something somber and Ada frowns, worried. “Do you still talk to Daphne?” The question sounds strange to the young woman, but she answers anyway.
“Yes.”
“Then tell her that the best thing she can do is stay away from your brother. She is a nice girl, has certainly suffered enough. There is no future for her besides a man like him.”
“Pol, why…”
“If the baby wants anything at night, ring the bell by the bed. She gets paid to work twenty four hours, that girl, she's getting lazy. Well, take advantage if you're nice.” Ada observes as her aunt leans into the tub and concludes that the best think she can do is leave her, so that’s what she does.
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Daphne doesn't sleep that night. She tosses and turns on the bed, restless, thinking about her fight with Alfie and how the Shelby’s might be dealing with all the trouble, until she decides that there is no reason to stay laying down when no sleep will come to her. So she gets up and sits on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey on her hands, eyes focused on the fire burning there.
She recalls the words exchanged between her and Alfie that morning and starts to question herself about his accusation. Had her judgment of the situation been tainted by her feelings towards Tommy? Had she really let herself be blinded by love, like Polly had waned her? She, who always had done her best to conceal her feelings from everybody and leave her life dealing with things as rationally as she could?
The burning of the alcohol down her throat brings her back to the present and she hears the banging on the door. Daphne tries to ignore it, thinking that it might be Alfie or one of his man. She doesn’t have the strength or the patience to deal with neither now. Then she hears talking and all of a sudden the doors opens and Harriet comes in - no makeup, loose hair and wearing a simple plain gray dress, a worried expression on her face.
“What happened?” The courtesan closes the door behind her, approaching the other woman, taking a sit on the vacant armchair. Daphne turns her face to look through the windows, noticing that is already dawning, she haven’t noticed how many time she had been there.
Harriet looks around before fixing her gaze on her friend again - the bed is disheveled but just one look at Daphne says enough for her to know that the woman hadn't had a minute of sleep in the past few hours. Her legs are pulled up on the chair, closer to her chest, hair messily tied in, an empty glass of whiskey in her hands.
“Ollie called me in the middle of the afternoon saying that Alfie was beyond himself and that you had left.” There is still no response, the only reaction she gets from Daphne is that she rests her head on the back of the armchair, body relaxing into the armchair as her gaze falls onto the fire. “He keeps saying that he fucked up and that he doesn’t deserves your trust but he refused to tell me the meaning of it.”
“We fought.” Harriet is almost giving up, preparing herself to leave, when Daphne’s voice resounds on the room.
“That much I could tell.” Hazel eyes focus on her and the courtesan sighs. “What about?”
“Thomas.” Daphne pauses, inhales deeply before moving to serve herself another glass of whiskey. “Well, I thought it was about the business, but you can say that the main reason was him.” Harriet says nothing, waiting, because she knows that pressing her right now is not the best of choices. “Did you knew?”
“Knew what?”
“About his plans to serve the Shelby’s to Sabini on a silver plate.” They look at each other for a moment before Harriet answers.
“No. I had my suspicions that he would do something about them soon but he never told me anything.” Daphne only hums in response, taking a sip of her drink. “What did he do?” The other woman sneers.
“He made a deal with Sabini so our bookies could work Epsom this year. They have raided all the clubs taken by the Blinders and Tommy’s older brother is in jail, framed by the murder of one of their men.”
“Oh my…”
“That’s what he had been hiding from me all these months.” Daphne downs the rest of the whiskey, observing as she turns the glass in her hand. “I told him that Sabini was going to betray him like he has done so many times before and he told me that I was being a hypocrite questioning his actions because we have done that before.” She takes a deep breath, looking at the fire again. “And that I was only doing that because I loved Tommy.”
“What the fuck! Alfie is out of his damn mind?!” Harriet gets up from her sit, takes the glass from Daphne's hands and pours whiskey on it, taking it in one gulp.
“He is not.” The courtesan turns to face her friend, who is still sprawled out on the armchair.
“What…”
“He may have said some things that he shouldn’t, but he is not out of his mind.” Daphne’s expression is devoid of emotion and she is calmer than she had been on the previous day. “The thing is... The thing is he is right, Harriet. Alfie is right. The only difference between Thomas and all of the other people we betrayed is that I love him.”
Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771​
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jooliargh · 3 years
Text
Fire Non-starter
Back in July I saw this tweet and started typing up a reply thread. 
Tumblr media
(twitter.com/lizduckchong/status/1285428567782723584)
The reply got longer than anticipated so I decided to come back to it when I had more time. Then months passed. And now here we are, and it turns out the story is too long for a tweet thread anyway.
My most on-brand story from school
I was about ten years old so this was the early 80s. I was The Sensible One even then, but disobedient with it and loved a bit of mischief.
Where I lived in South London there were a lot of big, old Victorian houses split into flats, with back gardens that connected together. With a bit of sneaking about you could climb over a few walls, duck down a few alleys and cover quite a distance without seeing a road or a pavement or - best of all - an adult. (The adults all probably knew we did this, but it felt secret and exciting nonetheless.)
There were 'in between' spaces: fenced-off places where buildings had once stood, gardens from derelict houses, undeveloped wedge-shaped areas between other things. (They've all been built on by now, of course. At least one unfeasibly small plot has had a thin, triangular, Grand Designs-style house improbably squeezed into it.) One of these was an area blocked off from the street with corrugated metal fencing which contained the shell of a small building. Brick walls, concrete floor, no roof. A gap where a door once was. At the time we thought it used to be a chapel, although looking back it seems too small. But The Chapel was what we called it.
One day in early summer, before the school holidays, some kids from my primary school who lived nearby decided to have a bonfire in the chapel. A bonfire. Without adults. Clearly this was an exciting proposition. The mastermind of this idea was a kid I will call Angela. (Hers and all other names in this story have been changed.) Angela had already acquired some matches (I think her parents smoked) and would bring other combustible materials as yet unspecified. Jane and Penny, who were sisters, would go to Angela's straight from school to help carry things. It was quite normal for us to be out riding our bikes until evening so being outdoors unsupervised wasn’t unusual and didn’t present a challenge.
For those who grew up later or were subject to more risk-averse parenting, surprising as this may seem, kids trespassed on waste ground or around derelict buildings all the time in the early 80s. It was enough of a problem that between TV programmes on a Sunday there were Public Service Announcements about the dangers of falling off things or being hit by falling things. We heeded the warnings of dire gravitational misfortunes that might occur, so we didn’t climb and we looked out for what was over our heads. (Thanks, PSA people!)
Angela was not noted for her common sense, so when I heard about the plan I did a quick risk-assessment and suggested it would be good to have a bucket of water nearby just in case things got out of hand. This is how I attached myself to the group. I'd also learnt somewhere that plastic is not a good material for a fire bucket, but no problem, we had a galvanised metal bucket at home I could sneak out. While the other three were gathering flammable things and incendiary things, I filled this bucket with water from the kitchen tap and carried it down our garden, over a wall nearly as tall as I was, and through some bushes to the chapel.
I don't know if you spotted that I said I filled the bucket. A full bucket of water is heavy, let alone a metal one. And I was a small, scrawny child, even for my age. I can’t imagine how I got it down from the kitchen sink, let alone out of the house and over this bloody great wall. I'm sure it made a hell of a noise and I must have splashed water everywhere. How my parents didn't notice remains a mystery. They were both partially sighted but they weren't stupid. (It’s also quite possible they did notice and just left me to get on with it.)
We met up at the chapel. The other three were there with matches, newspaper and pampas grass. I have no idea why we thought pampas grass would be flammable, but Angela had some from her garden and it seemed like a good idea at the time. (I have since been told that growing pampas grass in the front garden was how swingers used to signal to other couples. I don't know whether that's true, or if Angela's very straight-laced parents knew. For all I know they were playing swapsies with half the street.)
We had a go at lighting the newspaper, but it was damp. Also, it quickly became apparent, none of us had ever successfully lit a match before. After striking each one, as soon as it flared, we would chuck it onto the pile of newspaper, at which point the match would go out, to our great disappointment and frustration. Eventually one of us must have figured out not to do that and maybe found a dry edge of newspaper, because finally it started to catch a little.
You know the expression "no smoke without fire"? Well, damp newspaper smokes like a bastard, even with only the vaguest bit of smouldering going on. (I have no recollection of what happened to the pampas grass, but I assume it’s not very flammable either because nothing caught fire properly.)
After not very long we were coughing uncontrollably, eyes streaming from the smoke, and also helplessly laughing, well aware of the ridiculousness of four small kids trying to get a fire going, none of whom have the faintest clue how to get a fire going.
Then we heard something from the street that made us fall silent and our blood turn to ice in our veins. A hideous, terrifying sound. One we hadn't expected or prepared for. It was the voice of the local busybody Mrs Turner. She'd seen smoke and heard laughing children, correctly deduced that there was mischief afoot, pressed her face against a gap in the corrugated fence, then spotted and - worse - recognised us. She called each of us by name.
Mrs Turner had been an omission from my risk assessment. She worked in the chemist’s down the road and was acquainted with everyone in the area, including all of our parents. She was also a volunteer at our school so knew our headmistress. This was bad. The laissez-faire approach to discipline in my household meant I probably had the least to fear, but I was scared the others would face much worse consequences if their parents found out, it might have somehow been my fault, and they'd never speak to me again.
I threw the water on the non-fire, which was entirely extinguished with barely a fizz of protest, grabbed the bucket, and ran through the overgrown bushes to climb over the wall (much easier from this side) and head back through our neighbours' properties to my garden. Angela, Jane and Penny were all close behind.
We must have reeked of smoke. While it was normal for us to just come and go while we were out playing, god knows how my parents didn't have more questions when we tried to saunter all casual-like through the back door into the kitchen. Perhaps they reasoned that I'd survived various mad schemes and adventures so far, so I was probably ok. Perhaps they just had other more pressing things to worry about, like how to pay the gas bill.
We knew we hadn't escaped. Mrs T had seen wayward children, up to no good, and there was no chance she'd just go home and forget about it. One way or another, we’d be in trouble. There were no more laughs to be had and we dispersed quietly to await our fate.
Next day at school, PC Carver, the local police station’s schools liaison officer, came into our classroom. He was a frequent visitor, so there was no need to panic just yet. But then he called our teacher outside for a quiet word in the corridor. Shit.
We'd underestimated the level of seriousness with which Mrs T viewed our misdemeanour. She had called not only the school, but also the police. Our teacher returned to the classroom, called out our names, and sent us with PC along to the office of Mrs Krabappel, the headmistress. (Obviously not her real name, but close enough that I couldn’t resist.)
The school secretary kept guard to make sure there was NO TALKING, while PC went into Mrs K's office. We would be called in one at a time for The Bollocking.
I think I was called in last. It turned out we were being ACCUSED OF ARSON, I AM NOT EVEN SHITTING YOU. Mrs T had told the police that we'd SET FIRE TO A FUCKING BUILDING.
I mean, I know policing was different back then, but the absence of an actually burnt building would, you'd think, serve as evidence that no such crime had taken place. I don't know. Maybe the police knew perfectly well we'd set fire to a total of bugger all and just wanted to frighten us. Maybe (I like to imagine) they'd told Mrs T to stop wasting their time, but decided they should probably scare the crap out of us anyway, to save us from a life of crime and/or playing with matches. Looking back, that seems the most likely explanation because there were no charges, our parents weren't even brought into the school, the PC probably wandered off to do some liaising somewhere else, and we were left with Mrs K.
Now seems like a good time to mention that Mrs K was, with hindsight, a not-always-very-functional alcoholic. She was drunk a lot of the time. As a result, she had some... unorthodox discipline methods. Her favourite involved a coat cupboard next to her office with a mirror and an overhead light in it. An errant child would be told to stay in there, facing the mirror, with the door closed and the light on, "until you see how guilty you look and own up". Depending on what the child was avoiding in class by being in there, confessions could take minutes or hours. Whether or not the child had done anything wrong was immaterial. There was a school legend that a notorious repeat offender had once curled up and gone to sleep on the floor of the cupboard. (Do I need to say that OFSTED hadn't been invented yet?)
On this particular day I guess Mrs K wasn't at her creative best, because all I remember is her shouting "YOU'RE AN ARSONIST, WHAT ARE YOU?" and we weren't let go until she was satisfied that we’d said, with sufficient volume and clarity, "I am an arsonist." We were told, for homework, to think about what we'd done, write a story about the dangers of setting fire to things and report back to her in the morning.
Now, I had a good vocabulary for my age, and while I couldn't have told you precisely what "arsonist" meant, I was pretty sure I wasn't one. Bearing in mind what you now know about ten-year-old me and my home life, the following scene may not surprise you:
Me: Mum, can I borrow the dictionary? Mum: [Doesn't glance up from some feminist literature she's probably reading through her magnifier] Mm-hmm Me: [after a minute looking in the dictionary, and another minute deep in thought] Mum, you know how an arsonist is a person who causes criminal damage by fire? Mum: Mm-hmm Me: Is there a word for someone who just really likes setting fire to things?
Next morning, all four of us kids were again lined up outside the headmistress's office. One by one we were brought in to see Mrs K. My turn came around.
Mrs K: Did you do your homework? Me: [hands it over] Mrs K: And did you think about what you've done? Me: Yes miss Mrs K: And what do you have to say about it? Me: Miss, I'm NOT an arsonist, I'm a PYROMANIAC.
And that’s why this is the most on-brand story from my childhood.
I don’t know what happened to Angela. She never liked me anyway, and we lost touch when we left primary school. I kept in contact with Jane and Penny a couple more years, and more recently I heard that they both became primary school teachers. I didn’t pursue a career in pyrotechnics, or as a firefighter. And while I love a bit of harmless mischief, I'm still, at heart, The Sensible One. I am not, and have never been, an arsonist.
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kieran-holt · 7 years
Text
chatzy | counselor meeting
Date: 01/07/17 Characters: Cabin counselors About: Chiron and the counselors discuss the aftermath of the Forge fire. Warning: vomit
Brent gets here early, hair still damp from the shower, and save the two seats on either side of him for Macey and Jacob.
Laurel gets there early too and offers a polite smile to Brent and then takes a seat across from him.
Brent returns the smile. "How are you holding up?"
Fizz was texting when she walked in the door. She looked at the free seat next to Laurel. "Care if I sit here?" she asked.
Laurel "Um, I'm fine," Laurel responds to Brent and then looks over at Fizz with the same tight smile. "Yeah, by all means," She says and even pulls out the chair for Fizz a little.
Jesse didn't want to wake Chase to ask him to take his place, so he walks in early as well, heading straight to an open seat without looking at anyone.
Fizz smiled and took a seat next to her. She looked at Brent and flashed a smile at him also.
Rae strolls in with her required cup of coffee needed to survive every counselor meeting and takes a seat.
Lulu skips in with a bright smile on her face. She took a seat, sitting criss-cross on it, waiting for the meeting to start.
Mikey stumbles in after Rae, his head down and takes a seat too.
Fizz tried to get Mikey's attention. "Hey, how's your brother?" she asked him quietly.
Mikey hears Fizz and looks up. It's obvious he's been through a lot as he looks tired and slightly shaken. "He's doing... better than how we found him," He responds. "He keeps thinking he's better than what his condition really is."
Macey looks up from her phone when she walks in and slides into her seat next to Brent. "Jacob's not here yet?"
Brent "No," he sighs. "Should I text him?"
Macey leans back, and low key checks to see if any of the chairs in the room are breakable. "Probably."
Fizz "Alec is baking something for him, I'm glad he's doing better," she told Mikey.
,L goes to the meeting straight from the Aphrodite cabin and takes a seat.
Brent quickly texts Jacob: 'you coming?'
Jesse was timed out
Jacob R. quickly texted back: 'do i have to?'
Macey responds because it's a group message, "lmao yeah sorry"
Mikey nods slowly. "Tell him thank you from us," He says, pausing. "I'm glad he's better too... And thank ​you​ for being there and helping us."
Ariana enters after a lot of people and then looks around and sighs and then takes a seat.
Fizz "You and Blue did most of it, I wish we were there sooner, maybe the luck would've worked," she replied.
Brent 'I have a seat saved for you.... :)'
Laurel listens to Fizz and Mikey's conversation intently tbh
Jacob R. '!!!'
Jacob R. entered after reading Brent's text and took his seat. "Thank you for colonizing this spot for me."
Mikey "I think it did help. He could have been worse. It all could have been worse."
Brent "Anytime."
Bentley wants to be literally anywhere else but here but shows up anyway.
Macey chuckles.
Ariana probably has a seat saved for Ben tbh.
Bentley takes the seat next to Ariana and stares at his hands.
Rory walks in, barely paying attention to anything. She looks around quickly, sees Mikey and beelines for the empty chair next to him. Sliding into it, she looks over at him, giving him a quiet "Hey." in greeting.
Fizz "Well, then I'm glad Alec and I could help," she replied, a bit surprised that their luck actually worked unlike what she thought.
Jack shows up and slinks quietly to his seat.
Mikey is surprised to see Rory. "Hey, he made you come?" He asks, talking about Keaton.
Chiron enters the room and glances around the group. "Is everyone here?"
Rory nods her head. "Yeah, eventually, we went back and forth for a while. I didn't want to leave him alone." She looks over Mikey, making sure he at least looked okay. "Are you okay?"
Kieran walks in, hands in his pockets, and strides toward his seat without a word or glance to anyone else.
Mikey nods as he listens to Rory. "Figures. He's so stubborn always, but I didn't know it got worse when he's hurt," He explains and then nods again. "I'm as okay as I can be right now." He shrugs sadly.
,Jesse looks up as Kieran walks in, and looks confused.
Rae glances around, "Looks like it." She answers for Chiron.
Rory smiles for a second before it drops again. "Neither did I honestly. But, he definitely does." Now she nods. "I'm glad you didn't get hurt either." Hearing Rae speak up, she looked away from Mikey, not realizing Chiron had walked in.
Laurel looks at Chiron when he talks on time omg
Chiron clears his throat. "As I'm sure you all know by now, there was an incident at the forges late last night. First of all I want to tell all of you that it was not an outside attack or from a self-proclaimed enemy. We're under no threat of attack."
Rae raises an eyebrow at Chiron's words.
Lulu gasped a little being oblivious as usually. "Do you mean someone inside did that?"
Rory tenses slightly at Lulu's question, really wanting to answer to be no.
Chiron sighs. "Unfortunately, yes. That means it was done by a camper."
Kieran isn't quite paying attention. He leans back in his seat and looks in Chiron's direction somewhat mindlessly.
Laurel "Was it intentional?" She asked Chiron, figuring that she should speak up if she was there.
Fizz 's eyes widened. "You mean someone in this camp set the forges on fire?" she asked, that's what he did say but Fizz was shocked to say the least. "If I find whoever it is, I swear," she mumbled, feeling bad for Keaton and also knowing that it could've probably easily have been her sibling in the forges.
Macey can only think about that time the armory blew up and because of this parallel looks even more upset.
Chiron sighs. "That, I don't know. I can only hope not."
,Jesse frowns and looks down.
Rory doesn't know if she should be pissed, screaming, or on the verge of tears. "Do we have any idea who it is." She says this as more of a demand than a question, not really looking at anyone as her voice shakes.
Jack folds his arms and sinks in his seat.
Brent leans back, rubbing his face.
Jacob R. clicks his tongue at the news.
Mikey is sad and stuff.
Chiron "That's why I found it important to have this meeting. I believe all of you can talk to the rest of your cabinmates. I have no idea whatsoever who would do this, and I don't want you to accuse anyone. But I would like all of you to reassure your siblings of their safety and see if they know any information that might be useful."
Macey frowns deeper, because that's much easier said than done.
Lulu doubts that Casey did it.
Fizz "How would you know it's not someone in this room," she said not directly to anyone.
Bentley leans a little closer Ariana. "How am I gonna get all of my siblings together?" he jokes under his breath.
Jack pushes his sunglasses up onto the bridge of his nose.
Kieran sighs and crosses his arms.
Brent "So, you want us to gently interrogate our siblings?"
Theo walks in, trying to go unnoticed as the group spoke amongst each other, listening intently to catch the gist of what the meeting was about.
Macey sighs and slides down her chair a bit. She won't be interrogating her siblings.
Rae "Sounds lovely." She takes a sip of her coffee.
,Jesse can't imagine any of his siblings having the energy to commit arson.
,Jesse apparently doesn't know his siblings
Jacob R. "So," he starts attempting the whole diplomacy thing. "If we catch the person that did this... What is the solution?" He wanted to suggest murder, but not everyone was into giving violence a chance.
Fizz "I don't know, maybe set them on fire," she mumbled to herself.
Ariana makes a noise at Bentley's joke on time omf
Macey looks over at Jacob, feeling #momproud.
Bentley wants to suggest something somewhat violent but really thinks it's a bad time to remind everyone he's in the room.
Brent is also #dadproud.
Rory feels her fingers start to tingle a little bit and clenches her fists, not really feeling like zapping any with lighting just because she was pissed.
Theo leaned against the wall, thinking that a simple truth spell would solve this rather than interrogating everyone, but kept his thoughts to himself, letting his mind wander back to why he didn't just stay with Letty in her cabin.
Chiron is lowkey proud of Jacob too tbh. "We can discuss that now, but I don't think a punishment is necessary unless this is something that was planned with malicious intent. I would like to give people the benefit of doubt first."
Bentley "Yeah because look how great that's turned out before..." he mumbles under his breath.
Fizz "But someone was hurt, shouldn't they get something for not being fucking careful?" she asked.
Rae "Um," She raises her eyebrows again, "No one's getting punished for damaging camp property? Or, like, arson? Isn't Keaton like, seriously hurt?"
Rory looks over at Fizz and Rae when they speak, she spoke before really realizing. "Oh yeah, Keaton's hurt." Her voice is a mix of tired and annoyed. "He was inside when it blew, and a beam crushed his leg."
Chiron "I do think the severity of a punishment is depending on the persons intention. So, what do you propose we do if this was an accident?" he asks, giving the general group the floor.
Rory looks at Chiron. "Why does that matter?? Whether or not it was on purpose they seriously hurt Keaton, and oh yeah - ​blew up the forges​!" She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. "Crush their leg with a metal fucking beam and see how they like it."
Fizz doesn't protest rory's idea.
Brent "Or maybe we don't maim people," he says to the ceiling. "Because we're better than whoever did this."
Lulu "Maybe violence isn't the best idea."
Rory doesn't look at either of them. "I'm just saying, it being an accident doesn't change what they did."
Fizz "And say it wasn't an accident? Then what?"
Jack is sitting very tensely, focusing on breathing.
,L doesn't want to have to treat another severe burn victim but doesn't say anything, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees.
Macey "What about like, revoking a lot of their camp privileges? Y'know, they can't be out past certain times, can't do certain things. Like, an ankle bracelet or house arrest or something..?"
Brent nods. "I agree, and I can't condone a violent solution."
Bentley sighs and looks at Ariana like 'are you kidding me.'
Jesse "Especially if it was an accident," he says quietly in agreements wih Brent and Macey.
Jesse: *agreement
Fizz "Again, what if it wasn't an accident?"
Kieran wonders what Malia would say or what any of his siblings might want him to say, but ultimately says nothing.
Jacob R. notices Ben's look and makes convinces himself that there isn't a reason to throw another chair in a public place like this.
Theo rests his head back against the wall, listening to the arguments on both sides, leaning more towards delivering a minor hex to the culprit. "What about solitary? It's non lethal and non violent, and still gets the point across in a pretty strong way."
Bentley looks at the new speaker and literally all colors drains from his face.
Jack has gone pale. He clutches his stomach and slouches in his his seat.
,L shakes her head. "Was anyone in the forges when the fire started? Besides the one who started it?"
Macey "If it's not an accident then we figure out something more serious when we get there? I don't know, Chiron just said to give ideas. That was my idea."
Jacob R. squints at Theo. "Nah."
Fizz hesitated for a minute, not wanting to answer L at first but instead decided she should. "Alec saw the fire and instantly went to me," she said in reply to Lavina. "But when we got back it blew up."
,L nods. "Then we don't know if the fire was malicious or not."
Jack rolled a die with 20 sides. The die showed: 17
Lulu "Is there anyway we can prove it's arson or not?"
,L frowns and puts her chin back into her hands. "Are we sure it was some​one​ who started it?"
Theo lets out a sigh. "Why not just use a spell to figure it out? I'm sure between me and Declan we can figure something out."
Jack pushes his seat away from the table as calmly as he can, muttering an apology to the person sitting beside him. He starts around the table toward the exit, increasing in speed as he gets closer. He makes it to the door, clutching the handle, but can't get the door open before he curls over and vomits onto the floor.
Lulu "Ew"
,L stands, hands out, already ready to treat Jack.
Jesse straightens up and looks up from the table to look over at Jack, worried.
Jacob R. leans over to Brent and Macey. "Yikes, am I right?"
Macey grimaces and looks away, nodding at Jacob.
Brent is watching Jack carefully.
Rae pushes her chair back but relaxes when she sees L's got it covered.
Fizz looked at Jack, confused.
Jack stands frozen at the door, his hand stuck on the knob, torn between fleeing and sinking to the ground. "Sorry."
Kieran puts his face in his hands, looking away from Jack's direction. He shakes his head, trying not to feel queasy himself.
,L walks over to Jack calmly, holding a hand out to him but not touching him. "Are you okay?"
Ariana is thoroughly grossed out.
Rory covers her nose and mouth with her shirt, looking away from the door.
Theo grimaces at the scene before him, shaking his head. "Right, that's my cue to go. I'll talk to Dex, fill in Letty and all that. Let me know if something changed," he says offhandedly to Chiron, stepping over the mess and making his exit.
Jacob R. finds it wild that so many people are so easily grossed out considering that germs were used to colonize the country they now lived in.
Jack shakes his head. "I need to go." Jack steps aside to let Theo past before following out the door.
,L frowns, looking between the vomit, the door, and then at everyone else.
Jacob R. glances at Chiron. "Should we... Continue... or?"
Rae gets up to help L, then looks behind her at everyone else, "Well, I guess we're cleaning this up."
Laurel stands when Rae does and walks over to Rae and L. "I can help." She offers.
Ariana "If he's leaving, then so am I," She says when Theo leaves and then peaces out.
,L blinks at Rae and Laurel. "With what?"
Rae looks exasperated at everyone, "I don't fucking know, but we're not gonna sit here and finish this meeting with vomit on the floor."
Brent grabs Macey's arm and whispers in her ear. "Do you think it was Jack?"
Mikey is confused why someone threw up ???? is still sitting next to Rory tbh
Jesse "I can help clean too."
Mikey "If he was sick he should have stayed at his cabin. Someone could have filled him in later." He says to Rory.
Macey was trying not to look at the scene and not feel sick herself. She blinks at Brent words, the thought not having crossed her mind. "I...I mean, that's a thought? I guess why else would he..." She motions to the floor, "Unless he was actually sick."
,L walks out, down the hall to a closet, then returns with a mop and bucket. "You guys can sit down. Too many cooks spoil the vomit."
Rory looks at Mikey and nods her head in agreement, still using her shirt as a barrier.
Macey oh was also whispering quietly to her boo
Fizz "Does someone have like perfume or some shit on them to cover up the smell?"
Rae frowns, "You sure?"
Brent nods. "Yeah, unless he's actually sick. Are there any other people in his cabin?"
Macey purses her lips, thinking. "I don't think so. He's in Phobos, right?"
,L nods, already mopping up the mess. "Uh huh. Isn't even that much."
Laurel smiles at L. "Thanks for taking one for the team," She states and then sits down again.
Jesse nods at L, but stands up anyway. "I'm, uh, gonna go then."
Rae sits back down but makes a mental note to make L some cookies or something later.
Kieran sees Jesse stand and calls out, "Wait." He stands up as well. "I'll walk you back."
Jesse pauses and looks at Kieran, even more confused now. "Okay."
,L shrugs and finishes mopping fairly quickly. When she sees that the meeting is basically over, she leaves at the same time as others, carrying the bucket and mop.
Kieran excuses himself from the table and walks out of the room, waiting for Jesse in the hall.
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andrewmawby · 4 years
Text
September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter
Greetings and salutations! Are you one of the nearly 100 new subscribers in the past seven days? Welcome! I reserve this top spot in the newsletter to honor your presence.
You, though, might have been with me so long that you remember the mind-blowing column and illustration I created that caused your jaw to drop. Come on, I know you remember!! It was the one about lumber shrinkage. CLICK or TAP HERE to discover a question you can use to win a bet or a game of Trivial Pursuit!
Where Was I?
I like to take photos. I was a member of my high school yearbook photography team spending hours in the darkroom producing contact sheets and final black-and-white photos. I also volunteered to work in the largest darkroom at the University of Cincinnati as a geology undergrad.
I'm going to try to share an interesting photo as often as possible of things and places that cross my path. Here's one I shot this past Wednesday. There's a clue in the photo, if you strain your eyes, that will allow you to pinpoint where I was. I'm looking for you to share with me the exact name of the beach.
I'll let you know the answer in the next newsletter. Watch for it next week to see if you were spot on.
Oxymoron ALERT
You may have been one who teed up and took a swing at me last week about the clever oxymoron I included in the insurance alert piece.
Peaceful protestors don’t loot and commit arson for goodness sake!
Robert’s Stinky Hats
About ten days ago Robert, a contractor subscriber to this newsletter, reached out to me with a STAIN SOLVER success story. You’ll love this one:
“I'm sure you get lots of messages touting wonder and amazement over your Stain Solver. I was just so amazed I had to share my story. I'm a contractor in central Illinois, often working on projects that are not air-conditioned. I keep a hat for such occasions to catch my sweat.
A month or so ago, I noticed my hat smelled quite badly, and upon wearing it, my head smelled bad. I wondered how to clean it, talking to my wife and mother-in-law. They suggested a dishwasher with a plastic cage to help the hat keep its shape.
Well, I remembered an email you sent about the lady who cleaned her son's baseball cap, and I decided to give it a shot. (CLICK or TAP HERE to see the photos of the hat Robert is talking about) I mixed up a gallon of warm water with STAIN SOLVER per the directions, grabbed my hat, dropped it in, and the fizzing started.
I used a plastic spoon to agitate for a minute or so, and then rinsed it out. My hat was clean and good as new. The water was unbelievably gross. I couldn't believe how dark and dirty the water was. Now my hat looks clean and smells clean again. I went ahead and washed about a dozen hats. Thank you, Tim.”
If it were me, I would have allowed the hat to soak for about 30 minutes. It seems Robert had it in the solution a much shorter time but he was still happy with the results.
CLICK or TAP HERE now to order your STAIN SOLVER now.
Revive Cedar Chests or Closets
Ron emailed me last week. He wrote, “I have a storage room with cedar walls. How can I get the cedar smell back?”
Well, all Ron had to do was type the following two words into the search engine at AsktheBuilder.com to discover his answer:
cedar smell
Look:
CLICK or TAP HERE to discover how easy it is to make the cedar aroma so strong and pleasant that you’ll want to stay in the closet or cedar chest all day!
STOP Getting Lost
Have you ever had an issue with Google Maps where you enter in an address, navigate to it, and then discover you’re not exactly where you’re supposed to be?
Did you know you can HELP IMPROVE Google Maps? They have a very responsive team that works on your suggestions.
Just last week, Google Maps was off by about 500 feet for an address on a main road here in NH. I submitted a correction and they’re working on fixing it so others will navigate to the correct driveway.
Look at these two screenshots to see how to start the process. The FIRST text link you need to click is Send feedback. It’s in the lower RIGHT CORNER of Google Maps:
After you click that link, a new window opens giving you choices of what to do. Select the one that best fits your correction or suggestion and follow the easy step-by-step directions:
How To Create Mold In Your Home FAST
Elliot emailed me last week. Here’s what he wrote:
“In a recent article of yours about exhausting moist air from bathrooms you mentioned that if you were in a snowy area you may have to extend the pipe up higher. Why not use that warm moist air in the wintertime to make your home feel more comfortable? Perhaps consider using a small fan to blow the air out of the bathroom into the rest of the home.”
CLICK or TAP HERE to see why you MUST NOT do what Elliot suggests.
Random Question(s) Feature
I’m thinking of creating a new feature in the newsletter called, Random Question. Let’s see how it goes.
Scenario: An orchestra is playing a song. The musicians all have sheet music in front of them on their music stands. You can see this exact scenario in the opening 15 seconds of this video. CLICK or TAP HERE. Just about all of them have to use two hands to play their instruments, especially the violin players.
How in the heck do they turn pages and NOT stop playing? They’re all playing the same notes and if what they’re playing spans several pages, how is it the music doesn’t stop? What keeps them from turning to the wrong page? Why don’t we hear sheet music hitting the floor?
Fear - It’s Paralyzing
Did you know that the emotion of fear automatically blocks the part of your brain that performs critical thinking and reasoning?
I’m sure you’ve experienced this before. It’s happened to me and I can confirm that when fear has overtaken you, your ability to think clearly is severely impaired.
It’s one reason why basic training in all military branches tries to squelch fear to show recruits that they can survive any situation.
Cleaning Cutting Boards
This morning I decided to clean and purify my kitchen cutting boards. Do you have ones like these?
CLICK or TAP HERE to see how I did it. I also have a #HACK to get out deep tomato sauce stains.
Bill's HAPPY Email - Over the Top!
Several days ago, I received an email from Bill just before dinner. It had been a tough day for me and Bill put a smile on my face wider than the airplane hanger door for a B-52 bomber!
CLICK or TAP HERE and look just below the bullet list to read Bill's message.
That’s probably enough for a Sunday.
Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com CERTIFIED ORGANIC - www.STAINSOLVER.com Dihs and Dahs - www.W3ATB.com
Do It Right, Not Over!
P.S. Planning on sealing concrete before winter? CLICK or TAP HERE to see what sealer I feel is best.
The post September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter appeared first on Ask the Builder.
from builders feed https://www.askthebuilder.com/september-6-2020-askthebuilder-newsletter/ via http://www.rssmix.com/
0 notes
thegregorybruce · 4 years
Text
September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter
Greetings and salutations! Are you one of the nearly 100 new subscribers in the past seven days? Welcome! I reserve this top spot in the newsletter to honor your presence.
You, though, might have been with me so long that you remember the mind-blowing column and illustration I created that caused your jaw to drop. Come on, I know you remember!! It was the one about lumber shrinkage. CLICK or TAP HERE to discover a question you can use to win a bet or a game of Trivial Pursuit!
Where Was I?
I like to take photos. I was a member of my high school yearbook photography team spending hours in the darkroom producing contact sheets and final black-and-white photos. I also volunteered to work in the largest darkroom at the University of Cincinnati as a geology undergrad.
I'm going to try to share an interesting photo as often as possible of things and places that cross my path. Here's one I shot this past Wednesday. There's a clue in the photo, if you strain your eyes, that will allow you to pinpoint where I was. I'm looking for you to share with me the exact name of the beach.
I'll let you know the answer in the next newsletter. Watch for it next week to see if you were spot on.
Oxymoron ALERT
You may have been one who teed up and took a swing at me last week about the clever oxymoron I included in the insurance alert piece.
Peaceful protestors don’t loot and commit arson for goodness sake!
Robert’s Stinky Hats
About ten days ago Robert, a contractor subscriber to this newsletter, reached out to me with a STAIN SOLVER success story. You’ll love this one:
“I'm sure you get lots of messages touting wonder and amazement over your Stain Solver. I was just so amazed I had to share my story. I'm a contractor in central Illinois, often working on projects that are not air-conditioned. I keep a hat for such occasions to catch my sweat.
A month or so ago, I noticed my hat smelled quite badly, and upon wearing it, my head smelled bad. I wondered how to clean it, talking to my wife and mother-in-law. They suggested a dishwasher with a plastic cage to help the hat keep its shape.
Well, I remembered an email you sent about the lady who cleaned her son's baseball cap, and I decided to give it a shot. (CLICK or TAP HERE to see the photos of the hat Robert is talking about) I mixed up a gallon of warm water with STAIN SOLVER per the directions, grabbed my hat, dropped it in, and the fizzing started.
I used a plastic spoon to agitate for a minute or so, and then rinsed it out. My hat was clean and good as new. The water was unbelievably gross. I couldn't believe how dark and dirty the water was. Now my hat looks clean and smells clean again. I went ahead and washed about a dozen hats. Thank you, Tim.”
If it were me, I would have allowed the hat to soak for about 30 minutes. It seems Robert had it in the solution a much shorter time but he was still happy with the results.
CLICK or TAP HERE now to order your STAIN SOLVER now.
Revive Cedar Chests or Closets
Ron emailed me last week. He wrote, “I have a storage room with cedar walls. How can I get the cedar smell back?”
Well, all Ron had to do was type the following two words into the search engine at AsktheBuilder.com to discover his answer:
cedar smell
Look:
CLICK or TAP HERE to discover how easy it is to make the cedar aroma so strong and pleasant that you’ll want to stay in the closet or cedar chest all day!
STOP Getting Lost
Have you ever had an issue with Google Maps where you enter in an address, navigate to it, and then discover you’re not exactly where you’re supposed to be?
Did you know you can HELP IMPROVE Google Maps? They have a very responsive team that works on your suggestions.
Just last week, Google Maps was off by about 500 feet for an address on a main road here in NH. I submitted a correction and they’re working on fixing it so others will navigate to the correct driveway.
Look at these two screenshots to see how to start the process. The FIRST text link you need to click is Send feedback. It’s in the lower RIGHT CORNER of Google Maps:
After you click that link, a new window opens giving you choices of what to do. Select the one that best fits your correction or suggestion and follow the easy step-by-step directions:
How To Create Mold In Your Home FAST
Elliot emailed me last week. Here’s what he wrote:
“In a recent article of yours about exhausting moist air from bathrooms you mentioned that if you were in a snowy area you may have to extend the pipe up higher. Why not use that warm moist air in the wintertime to make your home feel more comfortable? Perhaps consider using a small fan to blow the air out of the bathroom into the rest of the home.”
CLICK or TAP HERE to see why you MUST NOT do what Elliot suggests.
Random Question(s) Feature
I’m thinking of creating a new feature in the newsletter called, Random Question. Let’s see how it goes.
Scenario: An orchestra is playing a song. The musicians all have sheet music in front of them on their music stands. You can see this exact scenario in the opening 15 seconds of this video. CLICK or TAP HERE. Just about all of them have to use two hands to play their instruments, especially the violin players.
How in the heck do they turn pages and NOT stop playing? They’re all playing the same notes and if what they’re playing spans several pages, how is it the music doesn’t stop? What keeps them from turning to the wrong page? Why don’t we hear sheet music hitting the floor?
Fear - It’s Paralyzing
Did you know that the emotion of fear automatically blocks the part of your brain that performs critical thinking and reasoning?
I’m sure you’ve experienced this before. It’s happened to me and I can confirm that when fear has overtaken you, your ability to think clearly is severely impaired.
It’s one reason why basic training in all military branches tries to squelch fear to show recruits that they can survive any situation.
Cleaning Cutting Boards
This morning I decided to clean and purify my kitchen cutting boards. Do you have ones like these?
CLICK or TAP HERE to see how I did it. I also have a #HACK to get out deep tomato sauce stains.
Bill's HAPPY Email - Over the Top!
Several days ago, I received an email from Bill just before dinner. It had been a tough day for me and Bill put a smile on my face wider than the airplane hanger door for a B-52 bomber!
CLICK or TAP HERE and look just below the bullet list to read Bill's message.
That’s probably enough for a Sunday.
Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com CERTIFIED ORGANIC - www.STAINSOLVER.com Dihs and Dahs - www.W3ATB.com
Do It Right, Not Over!
P.S. Planning on sealing concrete before winter? CLICK or TAP HERE to see what sealer I feel is best.
The post September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter appeared first on Ask the Builder.
from Home https://www.askthebuilder.com/september-6-2020-askthebuilder-newsletter/ via http://www.rssmix.com/
0 notes
williamccreynolds · 4 years
Text
September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter
Greetings and salutations! Are you one of the nearly 100 new subscribers in the past seven days? Welcome! I reserve this top spot in the newsletter to honor your presence.
You, though, might have been with me so long that you remember the mind-blowing column and illustration I created that caused your jaw to drop. Come on, I know you remember!! It was the one about lumber shrinkage. CLICK or TAP HERE to discover a question you can use to win a bet or a game of Trivial Pursuit!
Where Was I?
I like to take photos. I was a member of my high school yearbook photography team spending hours in the darkroom producing contact sheets and final black-and-white photos. I also volunteered to work in the largest darkroom at the University of Cincinnati as a geology undergrad.
I'm going to try to share an interesting photo as often as possible of things and places that cross my path. Here's one I shot this past Wednesday. There's a clue in the photo, if you strain your eyes, that will allow you to pinpoint where I was. I'm looking for you to share with me the exact name of the beach.
I'll let you know the answer in the next newsletter. Watch for it next week to see if you were spot on.
Oxymoron ALERT
You may have been one who teed up and took a swing at me last week about the clever oxymoron I included in the insurance alert piece.
Peaceful protestors don’t loot and commit arson for goodness sake!
Robert’s Stinky Hats
About ten days ago Robert, a contractor subscriber to this newsletter, reached out to me with a STAIN SOLVER success story. You’ll love this one:
“I'm sure you get lots of messages touting wonder and amazement over your Stain Solver. I was just so amazed I had to share my story. I'm a contractor in central Illinois, often working on projects that are not air-conditioned. I keep a hat for such occasions to catch my sweat.
A month or so ago, I noticed my hat smelled quite badly, and upon wearing it, my head smelled bad. I wondered how to clean it, talking to my wife and mother-in-law. They suggested a dishwasher with a plastic cage to help the hat keep its shape.
Well, I remembered an email you sent about the lady who cleaned her son's baseball cap, and I decided to give it a shot. (CLICK or TAP HERE to see the photos of the hat Robert is talking about) I mixed up a gallon of warm water with STAIN SOLVER per the directions, grabbed my hat, dropped it in, and the fizzing started.
I used a plastic spoon to agitate for a minute or so, and then rinsed it out. My hat was clean and good as new. The water was unbelievably gross. I couldn't believe how dark and dirty the water was. Now my hat looks clean and smells clean again. I went ahead and washed about a dozen hats. Thank you, Tim.”
If it were me, I would have allowed the hat to soak for about 30 minutes. It seems Robert had it in the solution a much shorter time but he was still happy with the results.
CLICK or TAP HERE now to order your STAIN SOLVER now.
Revive Cedar Chests or Closets
Ron emailed me last week. He wrote, “I have a storage room with cedar walls. How can I get the cedar smell back?”
Well, all Ron had to do was type the following two words into the search engine at AsktheBuilder.com to discover his answer:
cedar smell
Look:
CLICK or TAP HERE to discover how easy it is to make the cedar aroma so strong and pleasant that you’ll want to stay in the closet or cedar chest all day!
STOP Getting Lost
Have you ever had an issue with Google Maps where you enter in an address, navigate to it, and then discover you’re not exactly where you’re supposed to be?
Did you know you can HELP IMPROVE Google Maps? They have a very responsive team that works on your suggestions.
Just last week, Google Maps was off by about 500 feet for an address on a main road here in NH. I submitted a correction and they’re working on fixing it so others will navigate to the correct driveway.
Look at these two screenshots to see how to start the process. The FIRST text link you need to click is Send feedback. It’s in the lower RIGHT CORNER of Google Maps:
After you click that link, a new window opens giving you choices of what to do. Select the one that best fits your correction or suggestion and follow the easy step-by-step directions:
How To Create Mold In Your Home FAST
Elliot emailed me last week. Here’s what he wrote:
“In a recent article of yours about exhausting moist air from bathrooms you mentioned that if you were in a snowy area you may have to extend the pipe up higher. Why not use that warm moist air in the wintertime to make your home feel more comfortable? Perhaps consider using a small fan to blow the air out of the bathroom into the rest of the home.”
CLICK or TAP HERE to see why you MUST NOT do what Elliot suggests.
Random Question(s) Feature
I’m thinking of creating a new feature in the newsletter called, Random Question. Let’s see how it goes.
Scenario: An orchestra is playing a song. The musicians all have sheet music in front of them on their music stands. You can see this exact scenario in the opening 15 seconds of this video. CLICK or TAP HERE. Just about all of them have to use two hands to play their instruments, especially the violin players.
How in the heck do they turn pages and NOT stop playing? They’re all playing the same notes and if what they’re playing spans several pages, how is it the music doesn’t stop? What keeps them from turning to the wrong page? Why don’t we hear sheet music hitting the floor?
Fear - It’s Paralyzing
Did you know that the emotion of fear automatically blocks the part of your brain that performs critical thinking and reasoning?
I’m sure you’ve experienced this before. It’s happened to me and I can confirm that when fear has overtaken you, your ability to think clearly is severely impaired.
It’s one reason why basic training in all military branches tries to squelch fear to show recruits that they can survive any situation.
Cleaning Cutting Boards
This morning I decided to clean and purify my kitchen cutting boards. Do you have ones like these?
CLICK or TAP HERE to see how I did it. I also have a #HACK to get out deep tomato sauce stains.
Bill's HAPPY Email - Over the Top!
Several days ago, I received an email from Bill just before dinner. It had been a tough day for me and Bill put a smile on my face wider than the airplane hanger door for a B-52 bomber!
CLICK or TAP HERE and look just below the bullet list to read Bill's message.
That’s probably enough for a Sunday.
Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com CERTIFIED ORGANIC - www.STAINSOLVER.com Dihs and Dahs - www.W3ATB.com
Do It Right, Not Over!
P.S. Planning on sealing concrete before winter? CLICK or TAP HERE to see what sealer I feel is best.
The post September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter appeared first on Ask the Builder.
from Real Estate https://www.askthebuilder.com/september-6-2020-askthebuilder-newsletter/ via http://www.rssmix.com/
0 notes
manuelclapid · 4 years
Text
September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter
Greetings and salutations! Are you one of the nearly 100 new subscribers in the past seven days? Welcome! I reserve this top spot in the newsletter to honor your presence.
You, though, might have been with me so long that you remember the mind-blowing column and illustration I created that caused your jaw to drop. Come on, I know you remember!! It was the one about lumber shrinkage. CLICK or TAP HERE to discover a question you can use to win a bet or a game of Trivial Pursuit!
Where Was I?
I like to take photos. I was a member of my high school yearbook photography team spending hours in the darkroom producing contact sheets and final black-and-white photos. I also volunteered to work in the largest darkroom at the University of Cincinnati as a geology undergrad.
I'm going to try to share an interesting photo as often as possible of things and places that cross my path. Here's one I shot this past Wednesday. There's a clue in the photo, if you strain your eyes, that will allow you to pinpoint where I was. I'm looking for you to share with me the exact name of the beach.
I'll let you know the answer in the next newsletter. Watch for it next week to see if you were spot on.
Oxymoron ALERT
You may have been one who teed up and took a swing at me last week about the clever oxymoron I included in the insurance alert piece.
Peaceful protestors don’t loot and commit arson for goodness sake!
Robert’s Stinky Hats
About ten days ago Robert, a contractor subscriber to this newsletter, reached out to me with a STAIN SOLVER success story. You’ll love this one:
“I'm sure you get lots of messages touting wonder and amazement over your Stain Solver. I was just so amazed I had to share my story. I'm a contractor in central Illinois, often working on projects that are not air-conditioned. I keep a hat for such occasions to catch my sweat.
A month or so ago, I noticed my hat smelled quite badly, and upon wearing it, my head smelled bad. I wondered how to clean it, talking to my wife and mother-in-law. They suggested a dishwasher with a plastic cage to help the hat keep its shape.
Well, I remembered an email you sent about the lady who cleaned her son's baseball cap, and I decided to give it a shot. (CLICK or TAP HERE to see the photos of the hat Robert is talking about) I mixed up a gallon of warm water with STAIN SOLVER per the directions, grabbed my hat, dropped it in, and the fizzing started.
I used a plastic spoon to agitate for a minute or so, and then rinsed it out. My hat was clean and good as new. The water was unbelievably gross. I couldn't believe how dark and dirty the water was. Now my hat looks clean and smells clean again. I went ahead and washed about a dozen hats. Thank you, Tim.”
If it were me, I would have allowed the hat to soak for about 30 minutes. It seems Robert had it in the solution a much shorter time but he was still happy with the results.
CLICK or TAP HERE now to order your STAIN SOLVER now.
Revive Cedar Chests or Closets
Ron emailed me last week. He wrote, “I have a storage room with cedar walls. How can I get the cedar smell back?”
Well, all Ron had to do was type the following two words into the search engine at AsktheBuilder.com to discover his answer:
cedar smell
Look:
CLICK or TAP HERE to discover how easy it is to make the cedar aroma so strong and pleasant that you’ll want to stay in the closet or cedar chest all day!
STOP Getting Lost
Have you ever had an issue with Google Maps where you enter in an address, navigate to it, and then discover you’re not exactly where you’re supposed to be?
Did you know you can HELP IMPROVE Google Maps? They have a very responsive team that works on your suggestions.
Just last week, Google Maps was off by about 500 feet for an address on a main road here in NH. I submitted a correction and they’re working on fixing it so others will navigate to the correct driveway.
Look at these two screenshots to see how to start the process. The FIRST text link you need to click is Send feedback. It’s in the lower RIGHT CORNER of Google Maps:
After you click that link, a new window opens giving you choices of what to do. Select the one that best fits your correction or suggestion and follow the easy step-by-step directions:
How To Create Mold In Your Home FAST
Elliot emailed me last week. Here’s what he wrote:
“In a recent article of yours about exhausting moist air from bathrooms you mentioned that if you were in a snowy area you may have to extend the pipe up higher. Why not use that warm moist air in the wintertime to make your home feel more comfortable? Perhaps consider using a small fan to blow the air out of the bathroom into the rest of the home.”
CLICK or TAP HERE to see why you MUST NOT do what Elliot suggests.
Random Question(s) Feature
I’m thinking of creating a new feature in the newsletter called, Random Question. Let’s see how it goes.
Scenario: An orchestra is playing a song. The musicians all have sheet music in front of them on their music stands. You can see this exact scenario in the opening 15 seconds of this video. CLICK or TAP HERE. Just about all of them have to use two hands to play their instruments, especially the violin players.
How in the heck do they turn pages and NOT stop playing? They’re all playing the same notes and if what they’re playing spans several pages, how is it the music doesn’t stop? What keeps them from turning to the wrong page? Why don’t we hear sheet music hitting the floor?
Fear - It’s Paralyzing
Did you know that the emotion of fear automatically blocks the part of your brain that performs critical thinking and reasoning?
I’m sure you’ve experienced this before. It’s happened to me and I can confirm that when fear has overtaken you, your ability to think clearly is severely impaired.
It’s one reason why basic training in all military branches tries to squelch fear to show recruits that they can survive any situation.
Cleaning Cutting Boards
This morning I decided to clean and purify my kitchen cutting boards. Do you have ones like these?
CLICK or TAP HERE to see how I did it. I also have a #HACK to get out deep tomato sauce stains.
Bill's HAPPY Email - Over the Top!
Several days ago, I received an email from Bill just before dinner. It had been a tough day for me and Bill put a smile on my face wider than the airplane hanger door for a B-52 bomber!
CLICK or TAP HERE and look just below the bullet list to read Bill's message.
That’s probably enough for a Sunday.
Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com CERTIFIED ORGANIC - www.STAINSOLVER.com Dihs and Dahs - www.W3ATB.com
Do It Right, Not Over!
P.S. Planning on sealing concrete before winter? CLICK or TAP HERE to see what sealer I feel is best.
The post September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter appeared first on Ask the Builder.
from Home https://www.askthebuilder.com/september-6-2020-askthebuilder-newsletter/ via http://www.rssmix.com/
0 notes
Text
Casablanca, Massachusetts Chapter Two
….seph, Joseph local bartender was worried Coney would be late to Happy Hour, Coney was one of Joseph’s best often only customers.
“You’re late. I was pretty sure someone had cut off your legs, burned your house to the ground,” said Joseph.
“Why?”
Joseph gazed into the yonder, “They say in your autumn years you start to think of things like legacy, God, if your regular customers have been mutilated then murdered through arson, like I’m pretty sure Teddy has been killed with deliberately faulty skydiving equipment.”
“Teddy is sitting right over there,” said Coney, gesturing over to Teddy, who was sitting right over there.
“So he is,” said Joseph.
Coney was getting very drunk throughout it all, now Joe, the teen-aged girl who Coney had promised to look after was angry…rightfully angry, muttering “jackass” over and over again. She was also learning that Casablanca, Massachusetts, even in the summer, was freezing, as the only 16-year-old in the world who does not have a cell phone, sat there in the cold while Coney drank in a warm awful bar.
Coney was having a time, as he stared into beer that was mostly water, he thought of another brown fizz he had had at his parent’s New Year’s party late last year. His mom was saying something, “Now Conrad, that is why.” then there went the beer again when it went away his mother was saying, “So you think you can do that? I’m trusting you.”
“sure.”
as the beer was going up again, “June 4th, Conrad.”
He put his glass down in the present, he couldn’t time travel, and knowing by instinct what today was because Coney has a perfect interior clock, he also looked on his phone. What did his mom say? He played back the conversation in his head, and then he heard the words the beer had been devilishly hiding from him, and the words slowly came, to him: sister… staying…important… you buffoon (Mom’s pet name for him.)
“Damn, damn, damn,” he said running out the bar, switching to “crap, crap, crap,” in the car.
0 notes
andrewmawby · 4 years
Text
September 6, 2020 AsktheBuilder Newsletter
Greetings and salutations! Are you one of the nearly 100 new subscribers in the past seven days? Welcome! I reserve this top spot in the newsletter to honor your presence.
You, though, might have been with me so long that you remember the mind-blowing column and illustration I created that caused your jaw to drop. Come on, I know you remember!! It was the one about lumber shrinkage. CLICK or TAP HERE to discover a question you can use to win a bet or a game of Trivial Pursuit!
Where Was I?
I like to take photos. I was a member of my high school yearbook photography team spending hours in the darkroom producing contact sheets and final black-and-white photos. I also volunteered to work in the largest darkroom at the University of Cincinnati as a geology undergrad.
I'm going to try to share an interesting photo as often as possible of things and places that cross my path. Here's one I shot this past Wednesday. There's a clue in the photo, if you strain your eyes, that will allow you to pinpoint where I was. I'm looking for you to share with me the exact name of the beach.
I'll let you know the answer in the next newsletter. Watch for it next week to see if you were spot on.
Oxymoron ALERT
You may have been one who teed up and took a swing at me last week about the clever oxymoron I included in the insurance alert piece.
Peaceful protestors don’t loot and commit arson for goodness sake!
Robert’s Stinky Hats
About ten days ago Robert, a contractor subscriber to this newsletter, reached out to me with a STAIN SOLVER success story. You’ll love this one:
“I'm sure you get lots of messages touting wonder and amazement over your Stain Solver. I was just so amazed I had to share my story. I'm a contractor in central Illinois, often working on projects that are not air-conditioned. I keep a hat for such occasions to catch my sweat.
A month or so ago, I noticed my hat smelled quite badly, and upon wearing it, my head smelled bad. I wondered how to clean it, talking to my wife and mother-in-law. They suggested a dishwasher with a plastic cage to help the hat keep its shape.
Well, I remembered an email you sent about the lady who cleaned her son's baseball cap, and I decided to give it a shot. (CLICK or TAP HERE to see the photos of the hat Robert is talking about) I mixed up a gallon of warm water with STAIN SOLVER per the directions, grabbed my hat, dropped it in, and the fizzing started.
I used a plastic spoon to agitate for a minute or so, and then rinsed it out. My hat was clean and good as new. The water was unbelievably gross. I couldn't believe how dark and dirty the water was. Now my hat looks clean and smells clean again. I went ahead and washed about a dozen hats. Thank you, Tim.”
If it were me, I would have allowed the hat to soak for about 30 minutes. It seems Robert had it in the solution a much shorter time but he was still happy with the results.
CLICK or TAP HERE now to order your STAIN SOLVER now.
Revive Cedar Chests or Closets
Ron emailed me last week. He wrote, “I have a storage room with cedar walls. How can I get the cedar smell back?”
Well, all Ron had to do was type the following two words into the search engine at AsktheBuilder.com to discover his answer:
cedar smell
Look:
CLICK or TAP HERE to discover how easy it is to make the cedar aroma so strong and pleasant that you’ll want to stay in the closet or cedar chest all day!
STOP Getting Lost
Have you ever had an issue with Google Maps where you enter in an address, navigate to it, and then discover you’re not exactly where you’re supposed to be?
Did you know you can HELP IMPROVE Google Maps? They have a very responsive team that works on your suggestions.
Just last week, Google Maps was off by about 500 feet for an address on a main road here in NH. I submitted a correction and they’re working on fixing it so others will navigate to the correct driveway.
Look at these two screenshots to see how to start the process. The FIRST text link you need to click is Send feedback. It’s in the lower RIGHT CORNER of Google Maps:
After you click that link, a new window opens giving you choices of what to do. Select the one that best fits your correction or suggestion and follow the easy step-by-step directions:
How To Create Mold In Your Home FAST
Elliot emailed me last week. Here’s what he wrote:
“In a recent article of yours about exhausting moist air from bathrooms you mentioned that if you were in a snowy area you may have to extend the pipe up higher. Why not use that warm moist air in the wintertime to make your home feel more comfortable? Perhaps consider using a small fan to blow the air out of the bathroom into the rest of the home.”
CLICK or TAP HERE to see why you MUST NOT do what Elliot suggests.
Random Question(s) Feature
I’m thinking of creating a new feature in the newsletter called, Random Question. Let’s see how it goes.
Scenario: An orchestra is playing a song. The musicians all have sheet music in front of them on their music stands. You can see this exact scenario in the opening 15 seconds of this video. CLICK or TAP HERE. Just about all of them have to use two hands to play their instruments, especially the violin players.
How in the heck do they turn pages and NOT stop playing? They’re all playing the same notes and if what they’re playing spans several pages, how is it the music doesn’t stop? What keeps them from turning to the wrong page? Why don’t we hear sheet music hitting the floor?
Fear - It’s Paralyzing
Did you know that the emotion of fear automatically blocks the part of your brain that performs critical thinking and reasoning?
I’m sure you’ve experienced this before. It’s happened to me and I can confirm that when fear has overtaken you, your ability to think clearly is severely impaired.
It’s one reason why basic training in all military branches tries to squelch fear to show recruits that they can survive any situation.
Cleaning Cutting Boards
This morning I decided to clean and purify my kitchen cutting boards. Do you have ones like these?
CLICK or TAP HERE to see how I did it. I also have a #HACK to get out deep tomato sauce stains.
Bill's HAPPY Email - Over the Top!
Several days ago, I received an email from Bill just before dinner. It had been a tough day for me and Bill put a smile on my face wider than the airplane hanger door for a B-52 bomber!
CLICK or TAP HERE and look just below the bullet list to read Bill's message.
That’s probably enough for a Sunday.
Tim Carter Founder - www.AsktheBuilder.com CERTIFIED ORGANIC - www.STAINSOLVER.com Dihs and Dahs - www.W3ATB.com
Do It Right, Not Over!
P.S. Planning on sealing concrete before winter? CLICK or TAP HERE to see what sealer I feel is best.
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