#I'll be sure to share a picture when I get this printed on a mug!

[toxictoxicities]

Emergence TrafficLight mug design- Imma get it printed for my birthday >:)

Can't wait to have it RFTYGHU

[mollyencrypted]

A03 is being a fuck and won't let me upload my last Bingo entry, for 'Shatterdome Food Sucks', so, in an attempt to get it in whilst it's still 31/08 somewhere (I think), I'll post it here. (I was, regrettably, a minute late finishing in my own timezone.)

"So, you're the photographer, huh?" Yancy drawled.

The woman nodded, blonde curls bouncing with the movement. "Felicity Kincaid," she said brightly, holding out a hand, "here to document Shatterdome life for the folks back home."

"Yancy Becket", he replied, "here to show you Shatterdome life the way I see it."

"And to steer me and my camera away from anything classified, right?" She didn't seem irritated, simply amused.

Yancy shrugged. "Pretty sure everything here's already been in Wired. Lightcap's got her projects, but those are in other 'Domes. Nothing of interest in Anchorage."

"There's plenty of interest in Anchorage," said Flicker. "There's the Ranger program, for one."

"And there's the Ranger program in Lima too," Yancy countered.

"Is that where Lightcap's projects are, then?" Flicker asked innocently.

"Nope," said Yancy, holding up a finger to 'shush' her. "You're not getting it out of me that easily. Besides, anything I could tell you would just be a guess."

"Relax, I'm just a photographer," she said, smiling. "The only things I'm writing are captions, and I don't think they'll even print those. Your secrets are all safe with me."

Yancy sighed.

"Besides, I've got all day to get them out of you."

-

Flicker looked around the small room curiously, snapping pictures of Raleigh's photo wall and the bomber jacket slung across Yancy's shitty desk chair. At least he'd put his socks and underwear away (or at least shoved them in the nearest drawer, which was pretty much the same thing), and at least Raleigh was, by some miracle, not there bothering Flicker by mugging for the camera. 

"I'm surprised you only have to share with your brother," said Flicker.

"Pilot privilege," said Yancy, trying to obstruct her view of his unmade bunk and knowing it was too little, too late. "We have to put up with our co-pilots, something about bonding, but other than that the space is our own. The support guys have to share, though. Jaz won't stop complaining about her bunkmates."

"And Jaz is…"

"My sister. She's in J-Tech, works on the Lady." Yancy walked over to Raleigh's Polaroids and pointed out a smiling little girl with dark hair, flanked by two young blond boys. "That's her as a kid. You're going to need Rals' permission to publish those, by the way."

"I'll ask when we see him," said Flicker. "Does he know where Lightcap's projects are stashed?"

-

No matter how many times he saw her, she never failed to take his breath away. Lady Danger towered above Yancy and Flicker, immense and shining and deadly, testament to human ingenuity and resilience.

"Pictures don't do her justice," said Flicker, awestruck, but taking as many pictures as she could anyway. "She always looks smaller on TV."

"It's hard to grasp the size of her in person," agreed Yancy, "even stood next to her like this."

One of the techs buzzing around her like insects surrounding their hive came over to them. Dark-haired under a terrible greenish due job where Yancy was blond, but with the same bright blue eyes. "We getting a new sister, Yance?"

Yancy rolled her eyes. "This is the photographer you were briefed about, Felicity Kincaid. Flicker, this is the other woman in my life besides the Lady, Jazmine Beckett."

Jaz wiped a greasy hand on her overalls before shaking Flicker's own hand. "That's Jazmine with a Z," she said, "fuck knows why. Is Yancy taking us to lunch?"

"My treat," Yancy grinned, and led the way to the mess hall.

"You're an engineer, then," Flicker said to Jaz. "Do you know anything about these secret projects?"

-

It dawned on Flicker that 'treat' had been a sarcastic description of a Shatterdome lunch. Not only was it provided free of charge, so Yancy couldn't have paid for it even if he'd wanted to, but it was quite possibly one of the worst things she'd ever seen.

"Tastes better than it looks," said Raleigh Beckett, slipping into the seat next to Jaz and across from Yancy. "You must be the photographer."

"Flicker Kinkaid," she said, skeptically pushing what looked like mac and cheese if the cheese was powdered milk around her tray. "You must be the co-pilot."

"Did everybody know about this except for me?" Jazmine said between mouthfuls of suspicious meatloaf.

Flicker tried to occupy herself by taking pictures, but since she'd already gotten the lunch line whilst she was in it there wasn't much to capture but the food itself. Whoever used her pictures would be able to spin this as a noble sacrifice, no doubt, because the pasta did not taste better than it looked. It tasted of pasta and powdered milk.

Yancy cut his meatloaf in half, moving one chunk to her tray. "The pasta is appalling," he advised, "but the meatloaf really is better than it looks."

He was right, and in thanks she decided not to ask about Lightcap's secret projects. She wasn't expecting an answer anyway.

-

"So this is goodbye," she said, as the helicopter pilot finished her final checks.

"It's been nice having you around," Yancy admitted. "It's good to meet new people who aren't jaegerflies in bars."

"Remind me to tell you about Naomi sometime!" Jaz piped up.

"Remind me to tell you never to talk to Jaz," Raleigh said, putting his sister in an affectionate brotherly headlock.

Flicker had the siblings' contact details, now, and they had hers. She seemed to like them, and Yancy liked her. If they spent more time in contact, they might even be friends. Maybe more.

"I think one of Lightcap's projects is in Hong Kong," he said as he hugged her goodbye, "and one of them is in Sydney. You didn't hear it from me, and nobody else heard it from you."

She hugged him tighter. "Understood, Ranger Beckett."

They separated, and she gave a half-mocking salute.

Then she climbed into the chopper, and was gone.

(Yancy refused to tell his siblings that he already missed her. Raleigh knew anyway, and told Jaz.)

[paildramonnn]

Good luck on your writing endeavors! New year, new content! Here's an idea I'll offer: Ken and Daisuke are voice actors for a cheesy kids anime. Bonus points if Daisuke loves the script and Ken is just desperate for money.

This is the kind of prompt I really love.  Snowglobe AUs are my absolute favorite.  Thank you so much for submitting!  I hope you like it!

The Taller Chronicles racked up three full volumes before it got green-lit for eight episodes by one of the smaller production companies – streaming only.  Children’s anime wasn’t what it used to be, according to the director.  All gimmick and no quality.  But they got a contract with one of the better animation studios, hired a good art director, and left enough aside to pay their actors more than a pittance, which was a nice step up from the usual.

Daisuke auditioned for the role of the hero: Ueda, the plucky and determined eleven-year-old who makes friends every adventure and, at the end of the run, manages to save the day.

Daisuke got the role of the villain: Kuroyashi, the loudmouth who loses his temper every time Ueda foils his plans.

In the lead up to recording, Daisuke read all the manga, talked at some length with the producer and director, and even managed a meeting with the series author, who wasn’t as insightful as Daisuke had hoped.  The enthusiasm was appreciated, all the same.  By the time the show actually airs, Daisuke’s committed to the character one hundred percent.

(It goes like this: Daisuke is on the phone while in line at the grocery store.  It’s a faux pas but Daisuke’s never been all that good with being polite, and it’s his mother, who will blow him up if he doesn’t answer, so whatever.  There is a young-ish couple ahead of him in line, a kid of about six attached with determination to his mother’s hand, but craning around to stare at Daisuke in what can only be suspicion.  Daisuke can’t hear the kid, but he clearly sees him mouth Ueda’s catch phrase while giving him the stink eye – “tsuite masu” – and that’s it.  Daisuke is so proud to be Kuroyashi he might actually be glowing.)

It still stung a little that he didn’t land the Ueda role.  For one, the merch is better on the hero side.  But what really irritates him is how good Ueda’s actor is.  If it had been bad casting, that would be one thing.  Daisuke could at least be smug about it.  But no.  Ichijouji is great.  He’s got this soft, almost sweet voice that you don’t hear the steel in until the stakes are high and some other character is in trouble, and then Ueda might as well be a mountain.  It’s the sort of depth he guesses the casting director didn’t hear in him.

Worse than that, though, is that Ichijouji seems to be a genuinely nice person.  In print interviews, the author is always delighted to point out how good humored Ichijouji is, how polite, how effacing and well spoken.  And in digital format, podcast or video, Ichijouji does actually appear to be all of those things, so he probably isn’t just bribing anyone to give him good face.

Daisuke couldn’t say for certain what kind of person Ichijouji is.  They’ve only met a few times.  The studio they record in is big but they only get one booth at a time, which means that Ichijouji is usually done by the time they bring Daisuke in.  They’ve overlapped once or twice, passing each other in the hall and exchanging polite but impartial greetings.  Hardly the sort of thing that you can hinge an opinion on.  But now that they’re nearing the end of the first season run, it’s time to campaign for a second one, and that means press.  Which means, in turn, plenty of opportunity for the two of them to get to know each other better.

Their first interview together is via conference call, because Ichijouji is already working on another project and is booked solid for another four days.  They squeeze the call in after he finishes up for the day, sounding a little rough through Daisuke’s less than studio quality headphones, but just as polite and eloquent as promised.

Ichijouji praises the hard work that everyone has put in on the show.  Ichijouji praises the series creator, who continues to produce wonderful stories for them.  Ichijouji talks about what a pleasure it is to work on a show that has such an enthusiastic audience.  Ichijouji shares an anecdote about the children in his building finding out who he is.  Ichijouji has perfect hanging all over him, and if Daisuke has to listen to the interviewer giggle flirtatiously one more time, he’s going to interrupt, he really is.

“Were you a fan of the manga before you auditioned?  What made you want to be Ueda?” the man asks, and for the first time since this thing started, Ichijouji surprises Daisuke.

“Oh,” he says, smile still audible in his voice but sheer wattage lowered.  “When my agent told me about the series, I did buy the first volume.  I liked it a great deal.  But, actually, I really wanted to play Kuroyashi.”

Daisuke and the interviewer lap over each other in disbelief:  “What?”

“I think Kuroyashi is really wonderful.  He’s very passionate about everything he does, and I admire that a great deal, even though he doesn’t necessarily want the right things.  I was upset when I didn’t get the part, actually, but Motomiya does such an amazing job with him.  I couldn’t do what he does.”

Daisuke sits forward in his chair so fast he actually manages to bump into his mic.  He bumbles an apology over whatever inane question was going to follow that, and then just keeps going.

“I didn’t know that!  I read for Ueda,” he says, too late to attempt cool detachment but realizing it too late.  “I’ve always played the hero before, you know?  When they told me they wanted me to be the villain, I was pretty mad.  I thought, no one wants to be the bad guy.”

Ichijouji’s laugh is quiet and sweet, just like his character’s, and Daisuke has to bite down on his tongue, hard, to keep in the sudden desire to swear.

A week later, Ichijouji is free and so they meet for another interview in person.  The cafe is European style, not quite busy in the late morning, so it’s easy to spot Ichijouji sitting at a table by himself, cup of coffee already in hand.  Daisuke ignores him for the moment in lieu of caffeine.  His definition of “morning” tends to start a lot later than most people’s.

Ichijouji waves at him, smiling soft and friendly.  “How are you today, Motomiya?”

Daisuke could handle some rivalry before coffee kicks in, but this open pleasantness drags at him.  He collapses into the chair next to Ichijouji, letting himself slump miserably for a few long seconds before rousing, and only that when Ichijouji gives that soft laugh of his again.

“This is my first interview with Animage,” Ichijouji says, confessing or just trying to make Daisuke feel better.

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with that information, but staring uselessly probably isn’t it, so he clears his throat and opens his mouth, trusting it to do the work for him.  It usually does.

“I did one a few years ago, for this fighting thing I worked on.  They did a spread on all the actors for the hero group, you know?  Just little snippets, really.  It was all done over email.  It wasn’t a big deal.  I mean, it wasn’t like this.”

Ichijouji wraps his hands around his mug and nods.  “Hino,” he says, and Daisuke is so distracted thinking long, pale, slender that the word bounces around between his ears for a bit before his brain actually catches it.

“You, uh.”  He makes startled eye contact and then looks away in a hurry, failing hard at being casual.  He forces a laugh.  “You watched that?”

It wasn’t very good, is the thing.  Pretty rote, as far as fighting stories goes.  It got twelve episodes and then no renewal, due to disinterest by all parties, mostly notably the publisher, who had forced a sudden finale out of the mangaka and moved on to another mediocre title.  The fanbase that was still around had left in bitterness and that was it for Hino and the other heroes.

Daisuke dares another look at Ichijouji, watches him go a little tense, a little pink.  The earth shifts.

“I’ve seen all your work,” Ichijouji says, definitely a confession this time.

Daisuke pictures his CV, all typed out in acting credits.  It’s not that deep, mostly side characters, a few episodes here and there on various longer series, just two leads, and now a single villain role.  It would take some serious trawling to find all of it.  Even Daisuke hasn’t seen all of it.

Daisuke pictures Ken’s filmography: leads in smaller projects, independent studios and short films, two RPGs, a visual novel, and even a couple live action items, from back when he was a teenager.  He actually had to email the distributor of the NVL, to get ahold of a copy.

“Yeah,” Daisuke finally says.  He doesn’t realize he’s still staring until Ichijouji looks up, until he feels the spark of eye contact again.  He smiles.  “Yeah, I’ve.  Yours too.  I mean, to be honest, I had the RPGs before I knew you were in them.”

He has a figure of Ichijouji’s character, too, but he’ll go to his grave with the secret.

Ichijouji goes pinker but holds his gaze, and Daisuke can’t help but lean toward him.

“In the new chapter,” Daisuke says, “when Ueda and Kuroyashi find each other in the haunted house, they can feel their hearts beating together.”

Ichijouji presses his fingertips against the front of his sweater, so gently the fabric barely shifts under the touch, and Daisuke swears he can feel it under his ribs.