On the seventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
Seven broken pieces
[Title] Coffee Break
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Matsuda remembers messing up at work.
It was when Matsuda was still pretty new at the NPA. Like, still feeling like a college student who’d come to the wrong place. He was working really hard on being polite and getting stuff done quickly. But not so quickly he rushed it and made mistakes. Or if he did make mistakes, not the really bad kind. Though he was pretty sure a lot of people would be able to do stuff really fast and with no mistakes. But his dad had got him the position so he’d have to screw up really bad to get fired, right? But if anyone was going to do that it was going to be him…
He was carrying a bunch of files over to his desk and he’d probably picked up too many but he could hardly stop now. So he was tottering across the room and he could barely see anything but folders and yellowing papers and then he felt himself glance off someone’s desk and heard a crash.
Of course it was Chief Yagami’s desk and of course it didn’t just bruise Matsuda’s pride but sent a coffee cup flying off the table and smashing on the floor. Matsuda dropped the files onto the nearest desk (Ide’s as it happened, who glowered at him) and started apologising and trying to remember where the break room was and whether it had a dustpan and brush into it. His dad would have snapped at him that that was typical of him, not looking where he was going. Which it was, to be fair. Chief Yagami just said, after a few moments, “It’s all right, Matsuda, it’s not important.” For him it probably wasn’t, but Matsuda almost wanted to cry with relief that he wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. After a few more moments, Ide got to his feet, and said, “I’ll come and help you clear up the pieces. And get the Chief another coffee.” He had a look on his face like he thought Matsuda was an idiot, but at least he didn’t say it out loud. Matsuda worried a little less about being fired, after that.
[Title] Remixed
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] The GGs consider the pieces of a mysterious record.
“Well, at least we know where all the pieces are now,” Garam said, as Beat laid the three sections of the record out on the floor.
“Still doesn’t explain why these weird evil dudes in suits are after it.” Cube kneels down, studies the record more closely. “I mean, it’s just a bit of vinyl. Coin had literally hundreds of these.”
“And now it’s busted,” Combo said. “Surely it ain’t gonna be much use to ‘em now.”
“I was thinking about that,” Tab says, “and I was doing some research...”
The others groan.
“Excuse me, there’s nothing wrong with evidence-based work applied to the pursuit of anarchy. Anyway, I reckon, if we got hold of some superglue, and then were really careful, and didn’t let the glue get into the grooves… it still wouldn’t really play so good.”
“Thank you for your contribution,” Cube says. “You reckon that applies to possessed demonic records?” She traces the devil shape on the vinyl with a finger.
“You don’t actually believe it’s possessed, do you?” Garam says. “And, I mean… even if it is, you’d think breaking it apart might… release the demon into the atmosphere, right?”
Cube gives him a look and he shrugs: “I dunno, maybe? I’m kind of winging it here.”
“We’re all winging it, I think,” Beat says. “But I guess it might be worth trying to fix it. Keep it all in one place, right? And even if it only played for a moment, the sound might clue us in to something.”
“Great,” Tab says, grinning. “I’ll get the glue.”
[Title] Institutionalise
[Fandom] Akira (manga)
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] After the events of the first volume, Kaisuke takes time to get his head together.
Like, okay, Kaisuke figures, getting arrested by the army and slung into reform school ain’t good, but it has one advantage. In reform school, you spend most of the time being told where to go or what to do next - stand up, line up, sit down, collect a tray of what could be loosely termed “food” - and, Kaisuke isn’t a wuss but he’s prepared to admit that how things went down has left him kind of… spaced out. He’s pretty sure if he’d got away and was trying to make normal life work, it would’ve fallen apart by now. Although, you can’t really call it “normal life” when pretty much everyone who made it normal is dead. Like trying to glue a broken plate back together when it’s in a million pieces and a bunch of those have already been trodden on. That’s a stupid way of putting it, but it kind of helps, thinking about it that way. It still feels like the dust has only just settled and he’s just staring with his mouth open like what do I even do about this. At least when you’re in juvie they don’t want you to do anything except what they tell you. Maybe by the time they let him out, he’ll have got his head together.
[Title] Transform
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Mello lashed out at Near's toys once.
Mello always joked to Matt about how he’d stamp on all of Near’s toys whenever he got the chance, but the one time he actually did it, it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. It was a rainy day, and not only that, but Roger had caught him snooping in the attics and confined him to the library with a sarcastic admonition that he could use the time to study, given the disreputable state of his last Spanish test. Mello wasn’t getting along with Spanish and he didn’t see why he had to learn it, no detective could learn every language. Roger pointed out that Near seemed to be managing just fine with it, so Mello sat there in the library pretending to study and really hating everything. If he’d been on his own, he probably would’ve calmed down and just actually studied, but Near was there too, sitting on the floor, lining up a row of Transformers, then taking each one and transforming it from robot to car and back again. This was the kind of stuff he always did but right now he was doing it for no reason while Mello was stuck trying to memorise Spanish verbs, because Near was clearly smarter than him and clearly better at being a detective and obviously going to inherit the title of L just because he could speak Spanish. In the end, Mello scrambled to his feet, sauntered over to the nearby shelf, pretended to be really interested in Russian literature, and then, on his return, accidentally-on-purpose trod on Laserbeak. He stamped down hard and he was wearing shoes so he felt the toy crunch under his foot.
For a moment, he was really happy - serve him right, serve him right, making fun of me, always better than me - and he looked at Near expecting to see his rival glaring back at him, maybe even going to start a fight, which Mello would win because Near probably didn’t even know how to fight -
Near wasn’t glaring, and he wasn’t looking at Mello, he was staring, wide-eyed, mouth a thin line, at the broken Transformer.
After a moment, he grabbed up all the others - the usual uncanny ability to transport a whole army of toys in one go - and shuffled out of the room.
Mello glowered after him, and kicked the bits of Laserbeak in the direction of the door, before stomping back to his chair and carrying on with the Spanish.
Near didn’t tell on him to Roger, and at some point he must have reclaimed the broken pieces because Laserbeak returned, albeit glued back together and unable to transform. Mello told himself he didn’t care. He hoped Near wouldn’t tell L about it, even so.
[Title] Elephants in the Room
[Fandom] Endeavour/His Dark Materials
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Morse and Max talk about daemons. (Requested by
still_lycoris, who also takes credit for the daemon assignation to these characters.)
“I do have to wonder,” Max says, “how the two of you don’t leave a trail of broken crockery and doorways everywhere you go.”
Morse glowers at him across the pub table. “She isn’t the size of a zoo elephant, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“And besides,” Tatiana says, trunk waving in irritation, “I’m careful. You people with smaller daemons always assume we trample everything willy-nilly. It’s not like that. I’ve learned civilised behaviour, thank you.”
“Oh, it’s no disrespect to you and your size,” Max says. “More I’m surprised that a daemon attached to Morse has an awareness of the concept of treading carefully at all.”
Morse attempts to glower at him even more.
“Well, you do have to admit,” Max says, “you take a… straightforward attitude to things.” He has a slight smile on his face, mirroring almost exactly the expression of the toad perched on his shoulder. “Joking aside, though, I can’t imagine it was always easy to navigate the world with a daemon of that size.”
Morse shrugs. He can’t say that he’s necessarily noticed. Tatiana will tuck herself into a table-sized space in most rooms and almost all pubs, and if she can’t, he’ll generally be happy to skip going into whatever place it was to start with.
“My father -” he begins, and then wonders why he started to, and then decides that Max, whatever faults he has, is at least intelligent and not prone to blurting out platitudes - “my father found her frustrating. Always felt she took up too much unnecessary space. I think he thought I had coaxed her into settling as an elephant on purpose.” Or that having an elephant daemon was just the sort of irrational thing his son would do. “And there were the usual circus jokes, of course. But really, it isn’t a problem for us. And you talk as if she towers over everyone else. I’ve seen plenty of elephants and rhinoceroses and big cats in Oxford.”
“Well,” Max says, raising an eyebrow, “this is a home of the well-to-do and eccentric.”
“I’m hardly well-to-do.” Morse would like to deny the eccentric part, but he’s pretty sure he’d be shouted down by any number of his colleagues. “If we’re trading experiences, I can’t imagine having a toad daemon has always been easy.” Even when he was a child, he can remember hearing the old superstitions. “Although I’d like to think you’ve never actually been accused of being a witch. Not in this day and age.”
“Not to my face,” Max says, and Bombina smiles as well. She doesn’t talk much, Morse has noticed. Although, he’s seen her leaping onto the autopsy table to peer closely at the details of the latest corpse, and sometimes she and Max consult to each other then, talking over what they’ve noticed, and what it means. Max continues, “Although, had I been bothered by unnerving people at dinner parties, I probably wouldn’t have become a pathologist. When I tell people what I do, they seem to find her less surprising.”
“Well, that’s something you have easier than me. When I tell people what I do, it only seems to baffle them further. Apparently elephant daemons are not what people associate with police officers.”
“Of course not,” Max says. “There is an almost excessive number of dogs at Cowley Station, and I imagine it’s the same anywhere else. Although, to be honest, I don’t think you’re what people associate with police officers.”
“So I’ve been told,” Morse says, but he doesn’t mind hearing it from Max, who makes it sound like a gentle observation rather than a cloak for disappointment in wasted potential. “I imagine if I were, she would have settled as a dog after all.”
“I think you both startle people,” Max says, taking a sip of his pint. “Not that that is a bad thing.”
Last two broken pieces to come soon ;)
Seven broken pieces
[Title] Coffee Break
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Matsuda remembers messing up at work.
It was when Matsuda was still pretty new at the NPA. Like, still feeling like a college student who’d come to the wrong place. He was working really hard on being polite and getting stuff done quickly. But not so quickly he rushed it and made mistakes. Or if he did make mistakes, not the really bad kind. Though he was pretty sure a lot of people would be able to do stuff really fast and with no mistakes. But his dad had got him the position so he’d have to screw up really bad to get fired, right? But if anyone was going to do that it was going to be him…
He was carrying a bunch of files over to his desk and he’d probably picked up too many but he could hardly stop now. So he was tottering across the room and he could barely see anything but folders and yellowing papers and then he felt himself glance off someone’s desk and heard a crash.
Of course it was Chief Yagami’s desk and of course it didn’t just bruise Matsuda’s pride but sent a coffee cup flying off the table and smashing on the floor. Matsuda dropped the files onto the nearest desk (Ide’s as it happened, who glowered at him) and started apologising and trying to remember where the break room was and whether it had a dustpan and brush into it. His dad would have snapped at him that that was typical of him, not looking where he was going. Which it was, to be fair. Chief Yagami just said, after a few moments, “It’s all right, Matsuda, it’s not important.” For him it probably wasn’t, but Matsuda almost wanted to cry with relief that he wasn’t going to make a big deal of it. After a few more moments, Ide got to his feet, and said, “I’ll come and help you clear up the pieces. And get the Chief another coffee.” He had a look on his face like he thought Matsuda was an idiot, but at least he didn’t say it out loud. Matsuda worried a little less about being fired, after that.
[Title] Remixed
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] The GGs consider the pieces of a mysterious record.
“Well, at least we know where all the pieces are now,” Garam said, as Beat laid the three sections of the record out on the floor.
“Still doesn’t explain why these weird evil dudes in suits are after it.” Cube kneels down, studies the record more closely. “I mean, it’s just a bit of vinyl. Coin had literally hundreds of these.”
“And now it’s busted,” Combo said. “Surely it ain’t gonna be much use to ‘em now.”
“I was thinking about that,” Tab says, “and I was doing some research...”
The others groan.
“Excuse me, there’s nothing wrong with evidence-based work applied to the pursuit of anarchy. Anyway, I reckon, if we got hold of some superglue, and then were really careful, and didn’t let the glue get into the grooves… it still wouldn’t really play so good.”
“Thank you for your contribution,” Cube says. “You reckon that applies to possessed demonic records?” She traces the devil shape on the vinyl with a finger.
“You don’t actually believe it’s possessed, do you?” Garam says. “And, I mean… even if it is, you’d think breaking it apart might… release the demon into the atmosphere, right?”
Cube gives him a look and he shrugs: “I dunno, maybe? I’m kind of winging it here.”
“We’re all winging it, I think,” Beat says. “But I guess it might be worth trying to fix it. Keep it all in one place, right? And even if it only played for a moment, the sound might clue us in to something.”
“Great,” Tab says, grinning. “I’ll get the glue.”
[Title] Institutionalise
[Fandom] Akira (manga)
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] After the events of the first volume, Kaisuke takes time to get his head together.
Like, okay, Kaisuke figures, getting arrested by the army and slung into reform school ain’t good, but it has one advantage. In reform school, you spend most of the time being told where to go or what to do next - stand up, line up, sit down, collect a tray of what could be loosely termed “food” - and, Kaisuke isn’t a wuss but he’s prepared to admit that how things went down has left him kind of… spaced out. He’s pretty sure if he’d got away and was trying to make normal life work, it would’ve fallen apart by now. Although, you can’t really call it “normal life” when pretty much everyone who made it normal is dead. Like trying to glue a broken plate back together when it’s in a million pieces and a bunch of those have already been trodden on. That’s a stupid way of putting it, but it kind of helps, thinking about it that way. It still feels like the dust has only just settled and he’s just staring with his mouth open like what do I even do about this. At least when you’re in juvie they don’t want you to do anything except what they tell you. Maybe by the time they let him out, he’ll have got his head together.
[Title] Transform
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Mello lashed out at Near's toys once.
Mello always joked to Matt about how he’d stamp on all of Near’s toys whenever he got the chance, but the one time he actually did it, it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. It was a rainy day, and not only that, but Roger had caught him snooping in the attics and confined him to the library with a sarcastic admonition that he could use the time to study, given the disreputable state of his last Spanish test. Mello wasn’t getting along with Spanish and he didn’t see why he had to learn it, no detective could learn every language. Roger pointed out that Near seemed to be managing just fine with it, so Mello sat there in the library pretending to study and really hating everything. If he’d been on his own, he probably would’ve calmed down and just actually studied, but Near was there too, sitting on the floor, lining up a row of Transformers, then taking each one and transforming it from robot to car and back again. This was the kind of stuff he always did but right now he was doing it for no reason while Mello was stuck trying to memorise Spanish verbs, because Near was clearly smarter than him and clearly better at being a detective and obviously going to inherit the title of L just because he could speak Spanish. In the end, Mello scrambled to his feet, sauntered over to the nearby shelf, pretended to be really interested in Russian literature, and then, on his return, accidentally-on-purpose trod on Laserbeak. He stamped down hard and he was wearing shoes so he felt the toy crunch under his foot.
For a moment, he was really happy - serve him right, serve him right, making fun of me, always better than me - and he looked at Near expecting to see his rival glaring back at him, maybe even going to start a fight, which Mello would win because Near probably didn’t even know how to fight -
Near wasn’t glaring, and he wasn’t looking at Mello, he was staring, wide-eyed, mouth a thin line, at the broken Transformer.
After a moment, he grabbed up all the others - the usual uncanny ability to transport a whole army of toys in one go - and shuffled out of the room.
Mello glowered after him, and kicked the bits of Laserbeak in the direction of the door, before stomping back to his chair and carrying on with the Spanish.
Near didn’t tell on him to Roger, and at some point he must have reclaimed the broken pieces because Laserbeak returned, albeit glued back together and unable to transform. Mello told himself he didn’t care. He hoped Near wouldn’t tell L about it, even so.
[Title] Elephants in the Room
[Fandom] Endeavour/His Dark Materials
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Morse and Max talk about daemons. (Requested by
still_lycoris, who also takes credit for the daemon assignation to these characters.)
“I do have to wonder,” Max says, “how the two of you don’t leave a trail of broken crockery and doorways everywhere you go.”
Morse glowers at him across the pub table. “She isn’t the size of a zoo elephant, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“And besides,” Tatiana says, trunk waving in irritation, “I’m careful. You people with smaller daemons always assume we trample everything willy-nilly. It’s not like that. I’ve learned civilised behaviour, thank you.”
“Oh, it’s no disrespect to you and your size,” Max says. “More I’m surprised that a daemon attached to Morse has an awareness of the concept of treading carefully at all.”
Morse attempts to glower at him even more.
“Well, you do have to admit,” Max says, “you take a… straightforward attitude to things.” He has a slight smile on his face, mirroring almost exactly the expression of the toad perched on his shoulder. “Joking aside, though, I can’t imagine it was always easy to navigate the world with a daemon of that size.”
Morse shrugs. He can’t say that he’s necessarily noticed. Tatiana will tuck herself into a table-sized space in most rooms and almost all pubs, and if she can’t, he’ll generally be happy to skip going into whatever place it was to start with.
“My father -” he begins, and then wonders why he started to, and then decides that Max, whatever faults he has, is at least intelligent and not prone to blurting out platitudes - “my father found her frustrating. Always felt she took up too much unnecessary space. I think he thought I had coaxed her into settling as an elephant on purpose.” Or that having an elephant daemon was just the sort of irrational thing his son would do. “And there were the usual circus jokes, of course. But really, it isn’t a problem for us. And you talk as if she towers over everyone else. I’ve seen plenty of elephants and rhinoceroses and big cats in Oxford.”
“Well,” Max says, raising an eyebrow, “this is a home of the well-to-do and eccentric.”
“I’m hardly well-to-do.” Morse would like to deny the eccentric part, but he’s pretty sure he’d be shouted down by any number of his colleagues. “If we’re trading experiences, I can’t imagine having a toad daemon has always been easy.” Even when he was a child, he can remember hearing the old superstitions. “Although I’d like to think you’ve never actually been accused of being a witch. Not in this day and age.”
“Not to my face,” Max says, and Bombina smiles as well. She doesn’t talk much, Morse has noticed. Although, he’s seen her leaping onto the autopsy table to peer closely at the details of the latest corpse, and sometimes she and Max consult to each other then, talking over what they’ve noticed, and what it means. Max continues, “Although, had I been bothered by unnerving people at dinner parties, I probably wouldn’t have become a pathologist. When I tell people what I do, they seem to find her less surprising.”
“Well, that’s something you have easier than me. When I tell people what I do, it only seems to baffle them further. Apparently elephant daemons are not what people associate with police officers.”
“Of course not,” Max says. “There is an almost excessive number of dogs at Cowley Station, and I imagine it’s the same anywhere else. Although, to be honest, I don’t think you’re what people associate with police officers.”
“So I’ve been told,” Morse says, but he doesn’t mind hearing it from Max, who makes it sound like a gentle observation rather than a cloak for disappointment in wasted potential. “I imagine if I were, she would have settled as a dog after all.”
“I think you both startle people,” Max says, taking a sip of his pint. “Not that that is a bad thing.”
Last two broken pieces to come soon ;)