#edit: had a look and realised you in got the pick.... :pensive:

[waffluous]

i listened to match up and um...

more: aggressive start. i can't say i'm against rapping now with momentum rather than after the chorus without.... the transition could be better but i like the pre chorus and the instrumental is ramping up but i don't particularly like the yeyeyeyeyeah lead in but whatever. the melody for the chorus isn't super strong and tbh it didn't need the other part "all day jwjskdhsjdjs monday tuesday wandjakjdd" after the whole chorus all the shouting gets old fast but it's ok.... ok it slowed down anyway whatever . whatever this rap is honestly bland but yknow...... pre chorus chorus rinse and repeat. the dance break/bridge (?) is fun - i really like the occasional knock out boxing esque high pitched accent chord that's fun!!!! i like the ending with that crunchy guitar

t-shirt: the first bits are ok . generic but "oh man i really like that tshirt" lmfao what is that.... i don't think i heard it right but it still sucks as a line :rofl: the chorus is reheated waste product and did it just segue into a key change second verse that is (devastatingly) slowed down. whatever .... whatever ........

dirty shoes swag: i like the brass in that background...! it's fun .......! and the pre chorus works well too. but the chorus is strange english.... "i can do this errday [errdaaaaaay]"........ it's better than the other choruses but it still kinda sucks lol ....... the second verse curse is back and now the pre chorus doesn't make sense....... either way it's ok . generic

television: i did NOT expect the chorus what it was this slow swaying song and then it key changes and turns into this upbeat fun chorus????? anyways stuff happens and then some weird rap bit happens which turns out to be some weird bridge. it's whatever

ferris wheel: this song makes the most sense out of the new songs on match up. it's cute and i like the bendy chords that sometimes show up!

[teacup-crow]

So Many Stars

Here’s my entry for Zombies, Make! round 3 (thanks again, @puptart)!  Don’t worry, it’s fluffy Archie/Jamie this time, because morning me isn’t an angst monster like midnight me.

Based on prompt 2 - a picture of a woman in the water. Set between S2M15 and M16. Enjoy :)

Edit: just realised that the woman in the picture is on fire oops 🤣🤣

The lake is freezing, even in the middle of summer. It’s more a reservoir than a lake, really – Jamie suspects the angles and shapes of it are a little too straight to be natural. Still, it’s refreshing in a time when a bath is an unfortunately distant memory, and the kids have to learn to swim somehow.

“Frog legs, Carena, that’s it! You’re gettin’ there, girl!”

He’s not quite telling the truth: if he tries to take his hand away from her tummy for a moment, she immediately sinks like a stone. Still, it’s got to be better than his uncle’s method of lobbing him in the deep end of the overcrowded town pool and hoping for the best.

Turning his head slightly, he sees that stupid dog swimming along beside him with its dopey tongue lolling, and Archie still standing on the edge, not intervening as Jasper and Brendan splash each other a little too aggressively, catching one of the girls full in the face with an overzealous scoop of water. Seriously, does he have to do everything?

“You two stop that right now!” he yells over, pointing a finger. “Arch, I asked you to keep an eye?”

“Yes, sorry, Jamie. I was…” she trails off again, staring back out at the open water. It’s not like her to be so pensive, and he’s suddenly a bit worried.

“DAMIE!”

Oops. He turns back and holds the girl steady.

“Okay, I got you. I’ve always got you. Let’s try treadin’ water one more time.”

***

All in all, it wasn’t an unsuccessful outing. Jasper went in further than his knees without crying about it being too cold; Brendan’s freestyle paddle was becoming something that could possibly, one day, be a front crawl; Kitty had nailed backstroke, even if she couldn’t always go in the right direction. Carena’s lack of buoyancy was still an absolute mystery: the child swam like she had concrete tied to her ankles. Almost everyone had at least got their toes in, which is more than he can say for his girlfriend.

“Not like you to be a spoilsport,” he mutters over his mug of soup that evening. They’re sat on the front porch of the fire station, the kids inside supposedly tucked up in bed. He can hear them, though, running wild because they haven’t been read a storybook yet. There’s the distinctive giggling of childhood mischief and what he suspects is a raucous pillow fight.

Archie, who still hasn’t been speaking to him, only shrugs. He’s at a loss to what he might have done, or said wrong, although he has some suspicions. She’s normally so forthright when upset; it’s one of the things he really appreciates. No endless guessing games. She tells him exactly what she wants, and he begrudgingly knows exactly what to give her.

“Look. Abel Township owes me a favour. They’ll send out someone to mind the kids for a while, and then we’ll go.”

“Oooh, Jamie, are you really getting a babysitter? Do you know what that makes this?”

He stares at her blankly.

“That makes this a date night!”

“No, it doesn’t, it definitely-”

“Date night, date night, date night!” Archie sings, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Oh, I should do something with my hair!”

“Seriously, don’t bother, Arch, it…”

“Back in a minute!” She runs inside, and he can hear her saying, “now who wants to give Archie a makeover?” and a chorus of “me, me, me, ME!”

He sighs, and grabs the radio from his pocket. “Abel Township, this is Jamie Skeet, over. Yeah, could do with a hand down here…”

***

“You’ve taken me on a date… back to the lake?”

She’s been skipping and laughing and jostling him for the whole walk, an abundance of ribbons knotted in her mane of blonde hair that’s so rarely out of braids. Her eyeshadow, also, is two different shades. “I maybe would not get five-year olds to make me over again,” she’d laughed when she popped back onto the porch, “but there’s a first time for everything, yes?”

His breath had still caught in his chest when he looked at her, in sandals and an azure summer dress that caught the moonlight a little, her freckles like a smattering of stars on her cheeks. Right now, though, the wind has gone from her sails.

“You can’t swim, can you.”

She tries to laugh it off, but fails, and shakes her head.

“I can teach you how?”

He wishes he knew how to do this. How to make her feel all right about it. He wishes it was as easy as picking up one of the kids from a fall.

“My parents… were very concerned about me getting an education, and not very concerned about anything else. Including what I had to say! Which meant they missed out on a lot of interesting things because I always have something interesting to say!” She tries to laugh again, but fails. “Anyway, sports were not high on their list of priorities. And the water is so cold. Let’s go somewhere else, let’s…”

“Arch. I need to know whoever’s out here with the kids and the dog can help them if there’s any trouble. Come on. I won’t let go of your hand.”

She looks to the water, and back to him, one, two, one, two. “Do you promise?”

“You sound like Carena. Yes, I promise. I’ve always got you.”

Hands clasped tight, they walk in together, Archie indignant when he splashes her. Eventually, they lie back floating, and stare at the sky, and stare at each other.

Jamie’s never seen so many stars.

***

It’s three or four hours later when they get back to the fire station dripping wet, arm in arm, the dog running around them in mad excited circles as soon as he notices their approach. Jody is sat up waiting for them, the few stray pillow feathers in her hair out of place with her grumpy expression.

“Fun evening?” She raises an eyebrow.

“You could say that,” Jamie and Archie chorus, setting each other off laughing.

“I had to read The Gruffalo four times. Next time, make sure Sam doesn’t send me. Ask Simon, or even Five or something. I have no idea why people think I like kids…”

“You and me both,” Jamie replies, waving her off, and turning back to Archie, who kisses him just like she did in the water, under the moonlight, wildly, freely, the only bit of warmth in the numbing darkness.

[nclkafilms]

Home is much more than a word

(Review of ‘Nomadland’ by Chloé Zhao)

*Warning: Contains minor spoilers*

The 2008 financial crisis has lead to many films among which quite a few are actually very memorable for their portrayal of the absurdity of the crisis’ background and mechanisms (think ‘The Big Short’, ‘Margin Call’ and ‘Inside Job’.). But apart from a few, smaller scenes in ‘The Big Short’ the films have all focused on the “bad guys” and not the everyday American. Until now. Because we have never seen a portrayal of the flipside of the 2008 recession quite like Chloé Zhao’s ‘Nomadland’. Actually, we have never seen a film quite like ‘Nomadland’ if I dare say so. Picking up six Academy Award Nominations being favourite to take home at least half of these, ‘Nomadland’ is the talk of the town in the awards season right now for all the right reasons. But this is a film that deserves and demands a much broader perspective than simply picking up awards accolades. 

Being adapted from the non-fiction book (of the same name) by Jessica Bruder, ‘Nomadland’ tells the fictional story of widower Fern. Her late partner Bo worked in the mine at US Gypsum’s facility in Empire, Nevada. But when we meet her everything has been taken away from her; her husband has died and during the recession a decreasing demand for sheetrock ultimately resulted in US Gypsum not only closing their facility but also terminating all company housing before closing the entire zip code. Desperate to cling on to the life that once was (driven by her father’s saying, ‘What’s remembered lives’) Fern stays in Empire living in her van. This places her on the path of America’s modern day nomads, who live in their vans while moving across country during the year to pick up work of very varied kinds (working in an Amazon warehouse in the run up to Christmas, sorting rocks, flipping burgers and looking after camp sites to name a few). In the span of a year we follow the fictional character of Fern as she embarks on a journey through western US making friendships, spiritual connections and unique bonds with real-life nomads on the way.

And this is where ‘Nomadland’ becomes unlike anything I have seen. Because it is not a documentary but it also doesn’t fall into the docudrama genre; it’s somewhere in between mixed with a fictional narrative. Fern’s fictional story becomes a living, breathing part of the lives of the real nomads we meet and come to admire and care for. The boundaries between Fern’s fictional character and everything else are never clear and this makes for a deeply moving, thought-provoking and quite spiritual experience that at times felt almost meditative. 

This setup only succeeds because of the visions and meticulous attention to detail from writer, director, producer and editor Chloé Zhao (nominated and hailed for all four aspects of her work). When she was led in the direction of Bruder’s book (by Frances McDormand who had bought the film rights), Zhao departed on her own journey on the road with partner and the film’s cinematographer, Joshua James Richards, to experience the lives of the nomads. This is where she initially met many of the nomads who end up playing pivotal parts in her narrative and heard the many stories of their lives and life philosophies. These stories are at the centre of a particularly touching scene around a fire as they share stories of lost jobs, mortgage loans, deaths of loved ones or terminal illness. This could point to the film being a depressive and somewhat sombre look at the many human fates in the shadows of the recession. That is, however, not the case. While the film obviously pinpoints the horrifying truth that many hard-working Americans still struggle to make enough money for a living, this is in no way the film’s main focus. Instead we get to see the joy, the community and the resilience that these people find in the midst of all the many struggles and challenges that life has thrown their way. As such ‘Nomadland’ becomes both an inspiring and beautiful tale.

As Fern, Frances McDormand is the film’s heart; she is as endearing as she is resilient as she adjusts to life on the road. McDormand is one of the finest actors around and it is difficult to imagine anyone else in this role. It says everything about her performance and commitment to the part, that Bob Wells (YouTube Star and nomad spiritual guide), who stars as himself, apparently didn’t realise she was an actor before after their scenes. This is a testament to McDormand’s humble way of engaging with the film’s non-actors. It feels real, it feels naturalistic and it feels sincere, and I actually think that it feels so, because it is so. And as such, McDormand’s acting is unlike anything I have seen before too. You get the feeling that she (as Fern) simply build relations with these people as equals; their dialogues feel real and, thus, their emotional connection becomes real too. David Strathairn is the film’s only other professional actor as the character, Dave, who plays a part in the second development in Fern’s character (apart from familiarising with nomad life): moving on from Bo without letting go of what was. Their chemistry is very natural and Strathairn could easily have come across as yet another “real character” if you were not paying attention. The way their relation develops is refreshing and very telling.

The film, however, belongs to the titular characters of the nomads of modern America. It would be wrong to say that they give good performances, because they do not perform; they simply are. Instead I will call them interesting and inspirational human beings. Among the many people we meet, I would like to highlight three: Linda May, Swankie and Derek. Each representing three different aspects of nomad lives, they each feature in three of the scenes that have really stayed with me. Linda May becomes Fern’s guide and confidant when introduced to the nomad life and you quickly come to care for her and as such her story of hitting rock bottom strikes really hard. Swankie is a powerhouse with whom Fern shares quite a few scenes that causes both laughs and pensiveness. When Swankie in a quiet moment with Fern tells an uplifting story of how good a life she has had despite all the hardship she has seen, it is one of the finest scenes of the year. In the scene, that Fern shares with Derek, a young man who she met briefly in an early scene, it is something completely different; Derek’s story inspires Fern to recite Shakespeare’s 18th Sonnet: “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”. 

A scene and recitation that is complemented by simply stunning magic-hour imagery by Richards, who throughout the film manages to not only capture the magic and tranquility of the western US but also the ‘endlessness’ that lies in these rocky, sandy surroundings. But his work in the human-centred scenes are not to be overlooked either. He manages to put us as viewers right in the middle of the relations, the conversations and the solitude of the vans. As such we get to explore this life by ourselves and I hope with all of my film-loving heart that I will get the opportunity to see this film on the big screen, because that’s really where it belongs. The sound work supports Richards’ mission and the exquisite music by Ludovico Einaudi heightens his panning compositions of the landscapes.

In the end we have to return to Chloé Zhao, though, because no Zhao, no ‘Nomadland’. She adapted Bruder’s story for the screen, she directed the two actors and allowed the real life people to simply be and she edited it all. It is Zhao who nurtured the grounds for ‘Nomadland’ to grow into what it has become: a living, breathing entity on its own. It might be criticised for not diving into the absurdity of the American financial system and the way it (mis)distributes the wealth, but that would be a narrow-minded stance in my opinion. ‘Nomadland’ exists in the shadows of this reality; just as the people whose story it tells. Instead of focusing on what got them there or what might have changed their opportunities it gives them a voice by showing the value, the joy and the power of their lifestyle. The borders between fact and fiction might be blurry or even invisible, but that is where the true beauty of Zhao’s film lies: it lives!

5/5

[jackalopingintothevoid]

Camera Shy

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 TBA

The vidstream was starting, but not in the usual way. The New Start Crew, or whoever would be on stream this time, weren’t all on the couch ready with the opening greeting. Instead, it was just a pale heart-shaped face and brown hair in a stylish undercut, hazel eyes darting back and forth as they double checked everything was set up. The outgoing Riley with the camera on follow mode, much closer than if there were a group.

“Hello Crewsters! Now, you might be thinking ‘ay up, something’s not quite right here’. You’re not wrong friends, and it’s not ‘cause I’ve picked up the wrong thing to take a selfie with; we’ve had an incident. Early this morning-- before I had even returned from last night’s passionate tryst-- somebody broke into the garage!”

A dramatic gasp sounded as they reeled back from the camera in faux shock.

“Oh my goodness! What could they possibly want from our garage? Tools, spare parts? Access to our top-secret stash of pilfered alien tech!? All good questions, all wrong answers.” They dropped the theatrics, but remained energetic. “Turns out some poor bloke had been homeless out in the snow, and in desperation had wrenched the door open to get out of the cold.”

They grinned, turning slightly to start leading the free-floating camera across the room.

“So, have we had the guy arrested for breaking and entering? Dropped him off at a hospital to be treated for hypothermia?”

With a chuckle, Riley waved their hand dismissively. “‘Course not! Sampo’s gone and adopted him, bless her heart. Vera says he’s twice her size and frankly that’s bloody terrifying ‘cause she’s ripped as all get-out, but if Sampo says,” here came the bad impression, “‘We must wrap him up warm and feed him soup and love him forever’ then God knows Ali-oop’s gonna do it. She’s arse over tits for that woman.”

Riley cheerfully bounced through a door, not bothering to close it as the camera tracked them across the hallway.

“Now, I haven’t seen this bloke. Something about not overwhelming him. I think anyone who can force open a garage door with his bare hands and hypothermia is a big boy and can handle it, but it’s not my call.”

“Now, three people have met him themselves, and both Sampo and Mousy are still in the bedroom with him, so it’s our favourite hunk who’ll be providing today’s news bulletin!”

With that, they pushed through into the living room area, where Alouette sat on the usual vid couch with a cup of coffee and her COM pad, probably browsing the net. She glanced up in mixed annoyance and confusion.

“Ali, darling, give us the deets! What went down with the mysterious man in the garage?”

Raising her eyes to the heavens, Alouette put down her COM. “Not much. Mo heard a noise, called me to say someone had broken in, I went in with my gun and found a very large man. He didn’t attack us so Mo tried to talk to him and he passed out.”

The camera pulled back a little way so Riley could turn to it and adequately express how unimpressed they were by expression alone. “No sense of intrigue whatsoever. Two out of ten, lacklustre at best.”

Huffing in frustration, Alouette snapped, “I am not the noir lead! I am an ODST! We get shit done, not write sagas about it!”

They didn’t even wait for her to finish. “Come on Aloe Vera--”

“Do not call me--!”

“-- what does he look like? What does he sound like?”

“No sound.” Alouette folded her arms, frowning. “He did not speak. Perhaps he’s spoken to Sampoorna or Mo, but not to me.”

After a moment of expectant silence, she rolled her eyes and continued, pensive. “He is very big. Very very big, taller than Sampo and more muscles than me. Skin white like chalk, white like there is something wrong with him. Very big eyes.”

“... I’m getting the feeling this bloke might be a bit on the larger side?”

The camera listed violently to the side as a cushion collided with it, narrowly missing Riley’s head.

A dark and skinny form, under 6′, came into focus. Riley was nowhere to be seen. All was quiet save for the soft sound of boiling water and a spoon ringing lightly against a mug. Only the back of this person was visible, even the head obscured by the pulled-back hair, thick natural curls giving it incredible volume.

“Ring-a-ding, it’s Changming!”

With a cry of shock, Changming whipped round before immediately laughing, releasing his nervous tension as he realised they’d gotten him again.

“Riley! Why d’you do this to me? Every time!” A slightly-less-thick accent otherwise matching Mochou’s and more than familiar to regulars of the channel. “I’m making tea here!”

“Changming here is the next-closest individual to the incident by association.” They’d adopted a news reporter voice for this part, still out of view of the camera. “Changming, what can you tell us about the stranger your sister accosted this morning?” A rolling pin appeared, thrust into the younger man’s face like a microphone.

“Ahaha, well, not much really! He’s super huge though, like all over, and so scarred up! He looks like a Brute used him as a chew toy!”

“All over?” The suggestive eyebrow-waggle was audible.

“Yeah!” He was glossing over that. “We had to strip him off see, ‘cause of the-- shut up, don’t look at me like that-- ‘cause of the hypothermia. He was in this tight bl-- stop it!-- a black bodysuit. And you have to-- you have to take off-- if you don’t stop laughing I’ll stop talking.”

“Okay, okay I’m sorry! I’ll stop.”

“Wet or tight clothing has to come off. Hold it together Rile! But he was so pale I could map out his whole cardiovascular system by eye, like that guy needs a specialist probably.”

“Maybe he’s a new form of human that evolved underground in the dark?”

“Please do not make me worried about mutant mole people right now.”

“We all know what your dear sister’s like, has she taken any samples?”

“Please do not make me think about my sister taking human samples.”

“Just--”

“No, okay? She... she kinda seemed really worried about him. She just told me he was sick and really cold though. Oh, and he liked my tea a lot!”

“A ringing endorsement. Thank you, Changming, for your insight on this matter.”

“En, that’s okay, I guess--”

“Now, to gather some speculation from local experts.”

Rapid movement, and a distant “Bye, then?” from the Guan brother.

Shoulder-length black hair and a mix of African and Arab features were the focus of the next scene, a stern and no-nonsense approach evident on the woman’s countenance.

“Fiona Kuhne, what sort of things should we be--”

“I think this is a mistake.”

“... Elaborate, if you would.”

“This is a complete stranger, guilty of breaking and entering, for whom we have no idea of motive or intent. No concrete motive, anyway. Answer me this, Riley-- what sort of person can tear open an automated alloy door by hand?”

A pensive silence followed the loaded question. Fiona answered it herself.

“No one I’m happy keeping around my family without vetting, that’s who.”

The camera rounded a corner--

“I’m working, Riley. You bug me right now I won’t have time to edit it for you.”

“Mr. Adebayo, you wound me! I would never interrupt your work without good reason--”

“I don’t know anything ‘bout this guy, okay? Just wait until he’s halfway recovered, geez.”

“But Davis, what are we gonna give people for the vid today if everyone’s busy with this mystery man? We have a fan base, we have expectations, we have potential loss of income!”

“Look, you’ve probably already got some stuff right? Even if it ain’t much it’ll explain to folks what’s happening. Better to get your news from the source right?”

The camera stopped it’s movement, then turned a full 180 back to Riley’s face. A face with a wide grin slowly spreading across it.

“You know, Davis, you are absolutely right.”

[presumenothing]

flash point

for the prompt: “You are a pyrokinetic who tends to accidentally set things on fire when stressed. And today, you’re having a very bad day.”

[~1.5 hours of completely unedited writing, apologies in advance for any glaring errors]

(AO3) (FFN)

EDIT: now continued(ish?) here!

EDIT^2: ...and continued further here?

.

"Damn it," Saguru mutters under his breath, when the edge of his paper catches fire for the third time today.

Acrid tendrils of smoke curl out from where his fingers meet the paper, and he forces himself to take several deep breaths (in why was this happening, out he ought've mastered it completely by now, in just stop already) until the heat flickers and dies out again – which is when the lunch bell rings, and Saguru would've called it divine intervention if he'd been inclined to be religious in the least.

He's just about to stand and leave (to anywhere, really, Saguru doesn't usually have a problem with confined spaces but the classroom feels excruciatingly stifling today) when a voice calls out from behind him.

"Oi, Hakuba," says Kuroba, and Saguru watches somewhat warily as his classmate walks over to his desk. Quite contrary to any of Saguru's expectations though, Kuroba only looks at him for a moment, before nodding towards the desk. "You want to talk about it?"

Or – not quite the desk, Saguru realises, looking down at the slightly reddened patches on his hands. His pyrokinesis doesn't hurt himself, usually, but today had been a bad day on all fronts, to put it mildly. Saguru can't help but grimace. "That obvious, huh?"

"Unless you're blind. Or deaf. And lack a sense of smell, I guess," Kuroba adds after a moment's consideration. "So, like I said – wanna talk?"

Saguru's first instinct is to decline politely, but he forces himself to consider it seriously. He hasn't had a power lapse this bad in a long time (three years, eight months, and four days, to put it precisely), after all. But...

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll pass," Saguru says eventually. "I don't think talking will help in this situation, honestly speaking."

Kuroba shrugs, his expression nonchalant. "Okay, whatever you say. Offer's still open, though."

Then he walks off, and Saguru is certain that's the end of it, when –

A small jar lands on his desk with a metallic clink, and Saguru looks from it to Kuroba's oddly unexpressive face, suddenly feeling like there was a whole part to the conversation that he'd missed. "I'm sorry, what – ?"

"Burn cream," Kuroba says, interrupting the question – not that Saguru quite knew what he'd been intending to ask, anyway. "Or at least my version of it, but it should help with your hands."

"I – " Saguru blinks in surprise, and almost wonders if he heard that wrong. "That sounds useful. Thank you, Kuroba-kun."

"Don't mention it," comes the answer, almost flippantly, and Saguru belatedly realises that Kuroba is already halfway to the classroom door. "Literally."

He's still seated at his desk a few minutes later – all thoughts of leaving the classroom gone from his mind – when Aoko walks over and notices the jar on his desk. "Oh, is that from Kaito? It's really effective, I know he uses it during his own practice."

"Yes, Kuroba-kun gave it to me." And speaking of whom – Saguru turns to his other classmate, and wonders if he looks half as mystified as he feels. "Why would he do that?"

He almost expects her not to answer, but instead Aoko leans over to turn the chair in front of his around and sit down, looking pensive.

It's a few moments before she speaks, and in that time Saguru has already applied a thin layer of the cream on the base of his fingers, where the outline of the paper from earlier is still smarting ever so slightly – and Aoko is right, it does work wonders.

"Kaito had quite a lot of trouble controlling his powers when he was younger, you see. Especially after his dad..." Aoko's voice trails off – her words are soft enough that it doesn't carry, though the classroom is almost empty anyway. "Anyway, it wasn't until middle school that he really got a handle on it. So he knows what it feels like, I guess."

Saguru listens with a growing sense of disbelief, because he's seen Kuroba in ability training, and he – or, to borrow a turn of phrase, anyone with a functional set of senses who happens to be in the elemental manipulation section of the class – can see that Kuroba's control of air is basically perfect. And Saguru has been to some of the finest ability training institutions both back home and in Japan, so he knows what he's talking about.

Then Aoko adds, "So, do you want to talk about it, Hakuba-kun?"

And apparently Saguru is more tired than he thought, because the retort slips out before he can stop it. "Are you and Kuroba-kun ganging up on me?"

Aoko giggles. "Not at all, Hakuba-kun, you would definitely have noticed if Kaito and Aoko were working together on something like that!"

Which is... true, if not quite an answer he was expecting, and Saguru is suddenly and forcibly reminded of what he'd heard and dismissed as a myth back when he'd first transferred into Ekoda High – that a previous math teacher for this class had resigned in a fit of terror after she claimed that she was being haunted at school by some particularly persistent ghosts.

He looks again at Aoko, who still has the slightest glint of mischief in her eyes, and decides that (a) he really doesn't want to know, and (b) Aoko would've gotten involved only if the teacher had been legitimately terrible in her own right. Probably.

School, Saguru thinks with a sigh, had never been quite this complicated in London. "It's really not something pleasant to talk about, Aoko-kun. I was just assigned to help Division One with their caseload this week, and... well, it's been a while since I've encountered any murder cases, I suppose."

That isn't the whole story, of course – Saguru hasn't really worked on many homicides since coming to Japan, that much was true, but he'd handled them quite regularly before, enough so that he knows a murder alone isn't enough to trigger something like this. But one of the cases had been worse than the others, and –

A slight crackle catches his attention, but before the flame can escape beyond Saguru's clenched fingers Aoko conjures a little disc of water that extinguishes it with a faint sizzle before vanishing without a trace.

"Thank you, Aoko-kun," Saguru says, then adds, "Your control is very impressive as well, you know."

"Eh? Aoko's control?" She laughs, shaking her head. "Not really, Aoko is just lucky to have an easier element than Kaito or Hakuba-kun! Water has a much more physical form than fire or air, after all."

Saguru recalls several of the more disastrous hydrokinesis attempts that he'd seen with a wince. "I beg to differ, Aoko-kun. A former classmate of mine once nearly brought down a tsunami upon our heads. He had been trying to create a whirlpool, I believe."

"That sounds like he lost control of the direction vectors," she replies. "But as long as you're careful with those, water can be quite predictable. Aoko doesn't even need to worry about factors like viscosity and composition all that much, unlike Kaito."

Before Saguru can argue the point any further, though, Aoko stands up and extends a hand to him. "Oh, do you want to go to the rooftop and watch Kaito practice, Hakuba-kun?"

He raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Practice? On what?"

"On himself, of course!" Aoko says, before elaborating at Saguru's presumably confused expression. "He mentioned something about working out the buoyancy and lift forces on himself, but Kaito's never liked sharing his ideas before he's figured out how to make them work."

Saguru puts two and two together, and comes up with a short-circuited brain and the otherwise unlikely hypothesis that Kuroba is apparently trying to make himself fly, which is – 

He's halfway to his feet before he realises the obvious contradiction. "Hang on, doesn't that mean he won't want us there watching?"

"That's why we're going to be spying on him instead!" Aoko answers cheerfully, fishing out her handphone from her school satchel. "Besides, Aoko already promised to send Chikage-san a video if Kaito actually makes it work, so we definitely have a reason to be there – "

As Saguru lets himself be tugged along in the wake of Aoko's excitement, he thinks about how school had never been quite this interesting in London, either – and really, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

.

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...no, I don’t know how this happened either? honest. the brain saw it and went, hey, that sounds like a certain Osaka loudmouth – oh no wait! why not let’s make our own lives difficult and pick the one character who’s the exact opposite!! it’ll be fun!!!

......so yeah, that happened. powers assigned at semi-random, Kaito gets air because that would be pretty neat as Kid (what with all the acrobatics and gliders and whatnot), Aoko gets water because why not (it’s a lot harder than she makes it sound obvs). not sure where Akako would be in this universe? also someone really needs to have Layla’s power from Sky High that scene was really awesome okay hush now