#love the way they make the performance presentation with all the different angles and close ups

[yumeyum]

HOW ARE WE FEELING PARALIVES??!?!

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 18

Part 17

He’d heard stories from Dustin and the others about the tales Eddie made up for them. But hearsay was different from actually experiencing it. There was a quick review, a recap that Steve could tell was purely for him, someone who hadn’t been present for the previous tellings. And then they were off.

Eddie started off sitting but didn’t stay still for long. He moved like a man possessed as he weaved the next part of the story. His voice and his mannerisms changed depending on who he was speaking for. An old innkeeper had a withery tone and moved like a frail elder. But then he was a seamstress, with a soothing voice and an elegant way about her movements and gestures. The only time he stopped was when he paused to ask the others what their characters would do in the situation they found themselves in. 

“Stop trying to tell Will what to do, he knows what he should do”, Lucas said.

“Obviously he doesn’t if he hasn’t made a move yet”, Mike said, not backing down.

“You guys aren’t considering every angle”, Will said. “If I go on the offensive, we can cut through, but at the risk of all our stamina. If I go on the defensive, we risk running out of time.”

“And we NEED to save Max and El”, Dustin reminded them.

Max scoffed. “Who said we need saving? El’s working on the lock right now and I can zoom us out.”

“Your confidence is admirable, but misguided”, Mike deadpanned, flinching when Max lunged forward for a fake out punch.

She snorted and gave him a five finger love tap anyway. Eddie watched them all with a devilish grin, probably the most mischievous Steve had ever seen him before they finally came to a decision. The story moved on and ended with a cliffhanger of the boys making it to the wizard’s tower just as the girls broke free of their cage.

“And that is where we shall leave things tonight”, Eddie said, his smile only widening at the groans and boos thrown his way.

“We’re literally crashing through his doors! You can’t end it there!”, Dustin exclaimed.

“You always do this”, Lucas agreed. “You get some sort of fun out of leaving us hanging off the edge.”

Eddie stood up and brushed some imaginary dust off his pants. “That’s my creed, always leave them wanting more. Now off to bed with you.”

With more groaning and moaning, the kids trudged off. Rubbing their eyes and biting back yawns despite denials of being sleepy. Steve stood as well, hanging back just a bit until they were alone.

“So this is a bedtime ritual?”, he asked. “Seems counterintuitive to get them so riled up before bed.”

“Started out that way”, Eddie said. “Grew into this. And what’s wrong with filling their heads with visions of adventure and feats of bravery before they go off to dream land?”

“Well, I must say you’re a master storyteller.”

Eddie moved from his chair and around the table. “We could make a character for you as well, little prince.”

Steve thought about how involved the children got with the story and how there seemed to be rules on who they could interact with and how. It all appeared very technical. He was rather certain they were performing equations in their head while doing it too. 

“I think I’ll pass. I wouldn’t want to ruin the flow of your story.”

When Eddie came to stand near him, Steve started towards the door and they easily fell into step next to each other. Standing this close no longer struck fear in his heart. Steve was beginning to understand that regardless of all else, King Edward, Eddie… was just a man. A man who cared about his subjects, about those in his care. Who did things to make them happy. Things like ordering tailored outfits for them.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to learn more about you-your kingdom. And how it all works.”

“How what all works?”, Eddie asked.

“The beasts at your disposal. The conflict between our two lands is mostly because of them. But your people don’t seem to be afraid despite living closer to them.”

“I know just the perfect teacher for you”, Eddie said as they got to Steve’s door.

Steve imagined Eddie taking him out into the woods again, allowing him to see the beasts face to face and learn first hand what made them so unique. He imagined also getting to know Eddie better. Many parts of him were still a mystery.

So he was a little disappointed the next day when a knock came on his door and it was not Eddie.

“You’re not Eddie.”

“No, I’m Scott Clarke. His Majesty has tasked me with your education. You can call me Mr. Clarke, the rest of the kids do.”

Steve had heard that name here and there from the kids, one of the castle tutors, the one they liked the most. Even so, it felt a little juvenile to be sat down in the library and looked over books and diagrams of something he had already seen with his own eyes.

“You might notice, Your Highness, that tensions rise between our lands mostly in the fall and winter. That is no coincidence. Demobeasts go into hibernation once spring begins and the weather starts to warm up. That doesn’t mean you won’t see the odd one out, perhaps to get a little snack in between its long sleep, but for the most part…”

Steve tried his best to pay attention, he really did. But he wasn’t much for book learning. He got by long enough to learn the basics, but he learned better by doing. Hands on sort of experiences. He tried sitting in Clarke’s lessons for a few days before getting sick of it and finally seeking Eddie out himself.

“You know, when I asked to learn more about your kingdom, I expected to learn from the king”, Steve said when he caught Eddie in the hallway.

“Ah, a king’s work is never done. I thought to give you a man whose knowledge rivals my own. If you wanted some special attention from me, all you had to do is say so.”

They were at least three feet apart and yet Steve felt pinned down by that gaze. It had been a while since he and Eddie had been alone. What would a private tutoring session even look like? Would Steve be able to focus on the actual lesson or…

“I wanted to learn about you too”, he admitted quietly before clearing his throat and speaking more confidently. “So you won’t teach me yourself?”

“I think if you really want to learn, you need to open your ears”, Eddie said. 

----------------------------

Steve took to asking others about Eddie instead. About his abilities, about his past, about everything. He spoke to Robin first, hoping to get the most straightforward answer.

“What’s there to say? He’s super old, he’s been ruling since forever, he can shapeshift and control beasts. You know the rest, total joker underneath it all.”

“How long have you known him?”, Steve asked.

“A few years. My mom was less than thrilled that I share affections with other women and I had to find a place to stay. Eddie let me in and the rest is history.”

When he asked Dustin it would’ve been easier to list the things Eddie wasn’t capable of. Changing into any creature imaginable, the power of flight, of sight beyond sight, whatever that meant. It got to the point where Steve was sure he was making things up.

“Next you’re going to tell me he’s an incredible dancer and can cook too.”

“Actually, he can’t do any of those things”, Dustin said. “He does this weird jig that makes his legs look broken and everything he makes comes out either under or overcooked.”

Well, that was a couple supposed flaws. But it didn’t really give him a better image of Eddie. He thought to question the other kids and got very similar answers. The boys practically worshiped the ground he walked on. El spoke reverently as well but didn’t really talk about how she and Eddie had met. Max was less impressed by the feats Eddie had accomplished but despite everything, she respected him.

It wasn’t lost on Steve that most of these children rarely mentioned their parents. Dustin’s mother worked in the kitchen and only after asking directly did Lucas reveal he had a family that lived in the town. But the others were still an enigma. Just as he thought to press deeper, Nancy shoved him against the wall.

“Hey what-”

“Why are you interrogating everyone?”

“Interrogating? Does it look like that?”

“You’re asking personal questions. A lot of them people might not want to answer”, Nancy said, glaring at him.

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Everything? Everyone? People have always said I’m an idiot and for once I’m trying to fix that.” 

Nancy glared and crossed her arms. “Sometimes people aren’t so open to sharing. I hope you understand that.”

“I do.”

Her expression softened just a little. “A lot of us have things we want to hide. That’s why we’re here-Eddie-he-he lets us live the way we want. Without fear. That’s the most important thing. At least in my opinion.”

Steve nodded. “I understand.” 

And he did. He just wished to know, to really know, to be…well a part of it all. Sometimes it still felt like he was on the outside looking in. He was sitting by his window, gazing up at the stars, wondering what else was missing. Just about all his needs were being met. He was getting closer with everyone. And yet there was still this itch under his skin. He felt silly the next morning, but it took a hazy dream of hands and lips and then waking up to his own erection to realize what he had been hungry for.

Part 19

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane

[es46]

Airplaneshipping Prompt - Clothes Shopping

- Compared to most of Skyla's choices, this dress was quite presentable. Silky smooth, black with a series of white lines embedded with glittering beads and slung over one shoulder, complete with flowing skirt. Elesa likes it, turning this way and that to examine herself in front of the mirror. Tight on the waist, but overall form-fitting and silky smooth on her skin. Not bad. The design could do with more contrast, perhaps a cut to the skirt to let one of her legs bare, but not bad. If she went back to blonde, got a different pair of headphones, Elesa thinks she could work this into a charming late-night-party theme. A little blend of casual and sophisticated, well suited for a bar or a suite- "C'mon, Elesa, don't take all day! We don't all age as gracefully as you!" Elesa smiles, chuckles. Impatient as ever, her dear friend. Well, if she's going to perform, she ought to look her best doing it. Reaching into her handbag, Elesa procures eyeliner and a lipstick, applying both tactfully to give herself that perfect dash of shadow, that extra glimmer of pink. Elesa admires herself as she slings the handbag over her bare shoulder before turning to the curtain. She envisions a vast stage and cheering crowds beyond, then steps out with a supermodel's grace. Skyla is sat opposite the booth, phone in hand, and she gasps in delight as Elesa presents herself with a flourish. Clapping one hand to her cheek, she voices her wonder at Elesa's beauty, gibbering for her to strike a pose. Elesa loves the way Skyla's cheeks flush, the bright adoration in her eyes, and laughs as she settles into their routine. Elesa snaps from one to pose to the next; playful, coy, innocent, dramatic. Skyla is delighted, her phone capturing every angle Elesa emphasized as she rapidly chirps requests. "That's it, love the pout! Look at the camera now, smile real nice for me. Ooh, maybe a bit more leg on this next one? Ah, you're so stylish!" Candidly, Elesa does love posing for Skyla. Even if the outfits she picked were garish, it was how Skyla reacted so enthusiastically to her presentation. The way she smiled, laughed, joked around like an amateur photographer, it was sincerely gratifying. Of course, these shopping trips weren't just for Skyla to have fun snapping pics of Elesa in gaudy outfits. Elesa's got some outfits herself for Skyla to try, outfits that make her muse on how good Skyla would look strutting down the catwalk. Gathering her possessions from the booth, Elesa smirks mischievously as she holds up a black bag and waves it before her friend. "Alright, sweetie, your turn. I think you'll like this one, it's got just the flair to really bring out your eyes and match your hair. Daresay it'll have you looking real high-fly!" She expected Skyla to laugh/groan at the pun, but Skyla hesitates. The blush on her cheeks deepening, Skyla's expression goes rather shy as she purses her lips, contemplating. Setting her phone down, Skyla takes a deep breath and reaches into the bag next to her, pulling out a package that she keeps hidden by her side. As Elesa raises an eyebrow enquiringly, Skyla sheepishly elaborates. "Oh, um, thank you, Elesa, but I kinda wanted to try this one on first. I, uh, really think it'll be something special. Do you mind?" "Of course not. I'm sure it'll look dazzling on you." Skyla smiles, but Elesa doesn't miss the odd way her eyes avert their gaze, how her expression seems rather nervous now. Skyla shuffles past her into the booth, quickly closing the curtain behind her, and Elesa takes the time to sit down and ponder.

Not often Skyla got antsy around her. She used to be nervous when they first met, but over time she'd gotten perfectly comfortable around her. Elesa wonders if she'd come on too strong with her poses, or maybe that pun wasn't as good as it could've been. It's not an encouraging thought, potentially making her friend uncomfortable, and Elesa hopes that whatever outfit she's picked would perk her up. A few minutes of solemn contemplation pass, before Elesa perks up when Skyla (rather meekly) calls that she's ready. Setting up her camera, Elesa masks her concerns with a cheerful expression, deciding that whatever the matter was, she'd make as enthusiastic an audience for Skyla as she was for her. "Alright, come out whenever you're ready, sweetie. I'm always keen for a shocking experience!" A little giggle behind the curtain, stuttering ever so slightly. The curtains shift, and Elesa widens her smile in readiness to brighten Skyla's mood. Skyla steps out and- Oh. Elesa goes still. Her expression slacks. Her eyes widen, briefly unable to comprehend what she was looking at. Her hand lowers, as she stares with what can only be wonder. Skyla was gorgeous. Skyla was looking absolutely, heartbreakingly, gorgeous. Elesa had always thought her gorgeous, but had she truly appreciated how much? Maybe Skyla had decided now was the time to show Elesa just how well she could model. The dress Skyla wore was a lavish pink and clung tight to her curves, billowing out from the hips into a long flowery skirt that stopped before the knees. Thin straps lined with elegant ties curled around her shoulders and neck, displaying ample amounts of her skin. Florid patterns lined the dress, culminating in large 'petals' curled around Skyla's chest. She's undone her usual hair bun, letting a loose wave of red frame her face, and Elesa forgets to breathe as she stares, seeing how it emphasizes Skyla's contours... Oh. Skyla's blushing brightly, but the smile she wears is radiant. Looking shyly at Elesa, Skyla carefully lifts her skirt in both hands and twirls, making it flutter around her as she moved. Her hair flows smoothly with the motion, the turn of her body showing off her bare back. Had she always stretched her legs so elegantly? Elesa follows every motion with wonder, unable to think of anything more sophisticated than marvelling at Skyla's beauty. "Do you like it, Elesa?" The soft way Skyla asks breaks Elesa's mesmerised state. She feels like she has to remember herself, to breathe steadily. Elesa looks at Skyla as if her vision had been blurred but now could see clearly. Setting her phone aside, Elesa stands up and slowly steps forward. Skyla waits, cheeks flushed and her eyes imploring as she gazes up at the taller woman. Elesa can't say what compels her, but her hands reach out and gently caress Skyla's cheeks. Skyla trembles, reaching to grasp Elesa's wrists, expression mingled between uncertainty and affection. Feeling her smooth warm skin, Elesa feels like time has halted. Skyla looks so magnificently beautiful. How has Elesa taken so long to truly appreciate how beautiful she was? "I love it." Elesa leans forward on impulse but hesitates, struck by how fast she was going. Breathing deeply, she bites her lip and starts to withdraw- But Skyla's grip tightens. Elesa looks at her, surprised, and Skyla looks back with certainty. She leans forward, and her lips slowly purse. She's so beautiful. Elesa can't believe she's taken so long to appreciate that. Mustering her resolve, Elesa closes her eyes and leans in to meet Skyla. The gentle warmth of her breath brushes over her lips. They move closer, a whisper passing between them. The kiss is short, but it's warm, soothing. Elesa draws back with a newfound sense of awe, and Skyla gazes at her with a shy pleasure. Elesa's hands fall from her cheeks, stroking down her billowing dress, and the tender moment lingers between them. Skyla exhales softly, managing a jovial whisper. "I think I'll buy it then."

[goldenfox3]

It's fun exploring the different aspects of (game) Falcon's character through fic like I have a tendency to write the SNES era one as a cocky little shit but I've also tried playing up the cool and mysterious bounty hunter angle to make him a little more taciturn and serious. GX era Falcon I tend to write as more conscientious and focused on doing good though some of his youthful attitude and cockiness still shines through lmao. There's also his general theatrical nature that appears in (I would say) all his iterations (and is I suppose par for the course with a cast this colourful) and his (outward) confidence and love of showing off that remains even in his upstanding GX era.

The flirtiness I tend to give him is completely a result of my imagination bc Falcon is not at all flirty anywhere in canon ever but I think it would fit in with his flashy and forward demenaour (especially SNES era) and desire for attention even if he's not necessarily actually interested that way. Gotta get that taunting and preening in after all.

(More Falcon musings below the cut)

In contrast to the way I write Andy I don't think game Falcon has quite so defined a separation in how he acts with/without the costume on, but I do still think being Captain Falcon is a performance as well as a mindset. When he doesn't have to put on the face of "Captain Falcon" I like to think of him being quieter, more withdrawn/desiring alone time to recharge, sometimes even anxious about social scenarios that he might have to navigate as not-the-Captain. This isn't always necessarily tied to him having the helmet/costume on or not—if he still feels like he's present in a given situation as "Falcon", he'll act the same way in or out of costume.

This is kind of tied to my name hcs for him—it's not just that he doesn't want to give out his first name, he really does conceptualize of himself most of the time as the persona of "Falcon". The only time I think he would use his first name or even think of himself using his own first name would be if he was with people he was extremely close to, whether that's family (I have no idea what's going on with his family situation lol), best friends, or serious long-term lovers. The switch in use of surname to given name is a symbolic lowering of defences, a signifier of increased intimacy and almost like mental permission to him to just be...himself without any of the performance.

In Thousand Five, Stewart has known him only as Captain Falcon, his public persona, for 11 years and counting so even when they hang out out of costume he still feels the need to put that act on, though the amount of acting he does unconsciously lessens more and more as he grows more comfortable around Stewart. At least that's the explanation I have for why he's been gradually showing more and more vulnerability in anxiousness, earnest desire for approval, clinginess, etc. as the story goes on lol. The part where they finally address each other by given name will be basically when the final barriers between them are dissolved and they're letting each other know that yes, it's ok to be your unfiltered self around me and yes, I'm offering up my honest unfiltered self to you in return (which is why this won't be for many chapters to come lol).

In Living in the Fast Lane, since it's SNES era Falcon and Stewart haven't known each other quite so long there and Falcon isn't yet quite so practised at the whole performance of being Captain Falcon thing so there's less separation between how he acts in and out of costume. But there is indeed still an internal pressure to conform to his usual persona and to stick to the familiar snarky rivals dynamic that is eroding despite his best efforts in the face of unfamiliarly tender and squishy feelings ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The use of his Captain persona being a sort of safety wall and its gradual dissolution is always very fun and juicy to dig into and getting to write it happening in mutiple different ways is always a blast 🕺

[xygled]

XYGLED-Xinyiguang-Creating Immersive Scenes with LED Displays

Xinyiguang's LED display immersive scene solutions are usually applied to science and technology museums, planning museums, museums, cultural centers, children's palaces, party history museums, red museums and other places, presenting the far and modern culture in a delicate and realistic way, so that It is easier for the public to understand and accept. When the feet lightly step on this land, I can see the colorful images slowly spread out on the soles of the feet, taking steps, and blooming flowers every step of the way. Sometimes looking up at the mountains, sometimes stopping at the flowing water, watching the scenery of mountains and rivers passing by in front of you, changing from time to time.

Looking at the carved beams and painted buildings, pavilions, terraces and pavilions; looking at the winding mountains, looking at the lonely smoke in the desert; seeing a glimpse of a glimpse, watching a flock of geese flying south, and feeling that time flies and the years change.

Dear judges, do you think that you are going back and forth between ancient and modern times, looking for the secret history of thousands of years? In fact, all these are all kinds of illusions created by Xinyiguang through the immersive scene solution of LED display.

Whether you are an industry professional or someone who pays close attention to Xinyiguang's floor screen, I believe it is no stranger to it. Xinyiguang has been established for just 10 years. Its R&D, production and sales of floor screen products are well-known in the industry for their high-quality features such as waterproof and moisture-proof, non-slip and wear-resistant, super load-bearing, and silent heat dissipation. This year's Spring Festival, Xinyiguang once again demonstrated its creative ability to the industry - built a 300-square-meter stage with G2.976 floor screens to help CCTV Spring Festival opera gala.

As an excellent LED floor screen company, Xinyiguang is not the only one that does well in floor screen products. Xinyiguang's LED display immersive scene solution has also been completed very well. It has three characteristics: spatial positioning, linear motion capture, and angular motion capture. Provide customers with an immersive floor screen solution with a novel creative customization mode, which is deeply loved by customers. 1. Linear Motion Capture The spatial data stream formed by continuously capturing feature points over time is the trajectory of feature points.   2. Spatial positioning Cameras at different angles at a time point can capture a feature point and perform spatial coordinate calculation. 3. Angle motion capture Large feature points composed of more than 3 feature points form surface motion, which can be captured to the angular motion of large feature points. Snow-capped, green pines and cypresses. Walking into the space tunnel, the appropriate lighting and color tone make passers-by feel chills and immersive.

  Shuttle through the forest, the trees are shaded and complement each other. The sunlight is projected from the gaps in the leaves, and the mottled light and shadow cover the entire road. The birds and beasts on both sides are close by. Anyone who comes here will just quietly and slowly walk past. Xinyiguang uses immersive VR vision to present images that cannot be achieved in real conditions. In addition to the above examples, it can also make immersive spatial layouts such as ancient tomb exploration, space travel, and deep-sea diving to create immersive experiences for customers. On the basis of laser projection, the customer experience is further improved to achieve a truly immersive experience.

Xinyiguang's LED display immersive scene solutions are usually applied to science and technology museums, planning museums, museums, cultural centers, children's palaces, party history museums, red museums and other places, presenting the far and modern culture in a delicate and realistic way, so that it is easier for the public to understand and accept. Read the full article

[lgcyoojoon]

workshop opportunity 001 : meeting solo.

A progress meeting is different from the reflection interviews or videos he has been recording during workshops and trainee missions. This feels significantly larger. More official. More severe. As if every word he says will determine his future, and a single incorrect word could further delay a potential debut. Yoojoon understands that sincerity and honesty are consistently valued, while lying or pretending is ultimately futile.

He sits there in his usual pose, with his hands on his lap, curled together, appearing slightly more anxious than in the recent reflection video. And Yoojoon waits patiently for the questions, taking his time to answer each.

What do you think are your strengths right now? "At the moment, my top three skills are singing, dancing, and performing. If I were to choose the top one, it would be a tie between dancing and singing, as I believe I am equally skilled in both. I am slightly more experienced in dancing but also enjoy singing just as much. And while I understand that having an evident strength is more advantageous, I have always had a passion for singing and dancing. Given the intense scrutiny from netizens and reporters who meticulously analyse every aspect of performances, both aspects are equally crucial for thriving in today's idol industry. And, of course, performing itself is equally important to shine."

What are three skills that you would like to work on starting 2024? "One of the skills I definitely want to improve is acting. Through all the different missions and experiences, I have genuinely developed a keen interest in the art of acting, and I firmly believe that it is an essential skill for any idol to possess. My second skills would be modeling. I would like to enhance my ability to identify and showcase my best features and angles. My goal is to present myself in the most appealing way possible, with the hope of securing opportunities for magazine features or photoshoots. And the third one would be hosting. I have always enjoyed the idea of being a host or MC because I believe I can effectively utilise my eloquence in that role."

If given a chance, what types of gigs would you be interested in participating? "Being a part of a drama or movie, regardless of the role, is something I would love to experience. I have been closely following all of Legacy's self-produced shows, and being a part of one would be like a dream come true. I'd love a role of the cold-slash-distant love interest or the side buddy of the protanogist. That sounds fun. And as previously mentioned, I want to be part of photoshoots for endorsements or even CFs with the improvement of my acting skills. Preferably for uniforms or skincare, since I do tend to take care good care of my skin and appearance in general."

during your time here in legacy, what are some of the lessons that you’ve learned about yourself? "Hmmm. One of the lessons I definitely learned about myself is that I'm capabe of much more than I imagine myself being able to do. I've always tended to underestimate myself, give less credits to my skills. But I've now come to appreciate who I am, my hard work nature, and even if my perfectionism sometimes gets in the way of being satisfied with something, striving for perfection and being the best version of myself is what makes me me. It's what I believe my fans appreciate and will appreciate about me, too. Although I've gotten much more confident in myself, I do remind myself it's always important to stay humble and grateful for the opportunities I've gotten and will get."

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | She Freak (Mabe, 1967)

I had a copy of this sitting around for quite a while (one of the perils of buying movies on sale faster than you watch them), and the Criterion Channel just added Tod Browning’s original Freaks as part of a series on Pre-Code Horror, so I did the sensible thing and turned them into a double feature of sorts. There are obvious superficial differences between the two, but the most drastic is one of framing. Browning’s film, in a gesture no doubt even more daring at the time, asks us to identify with the titular characters. He spends ample time with them, gets us to see them as people, has great love for them, and most movingly, generates a great bit of pathos from the love between the characters played by Daisy and Harry Earles.

She Freak is daring too, but in a different way, as it asks us to identify with the villain of the piece, the scheming waitress played by Claire Brennen. The movie introduces her as she’s stuck in a dead end job at a diner where she makes peanuts in tips and has to fend off the advances of her sleazy boss. We see what a soul crushing experience this is for her, so the arrival of a carnival presents a certain excitement. There is a lot of carnival footage in this movie, which on top of padding the runtime (there’s maybe half an hour of plot in this 83-minute movie) and offering documentarian interest, nicely evokes the wonder experienced by this character from the possibilities this new environment presents. (There’s a nice shot of her mouth agape on a Ferris wheel that gets this across elegantly.) The tight runtime of Browning’s movie gives its carnival environment an insular quality (the results are closer to The Unknown than his better known Dracula), but here the carnival feels expansive, wondrous.

So for a good chunk of the movie, we’re somewhat aligned to the villain, although it gets harder to do so once we learn of her disgust towards the freaks and her Machiavellian ambitions. It is kind of funny that she almost throws up after the freakshow, when all we see are a guy swallowing a sword and an older lady handling a snake. There is a little person, but he’s part of the show, he just works at the carnival, although she’s bigoted towards him too, based on a shot of a well-timed pencil snap. The character she eventually marries, the owner of the carnival, articulates a certain humanism towards those with disabilities (“I’m a man and you’re a man”), and one suspects he would have been better off marrying somebody else in the carnival. Maybe the stripper, she seemed like a nice person. Or the sword swallower or snake charmer. Given their talents, they’d probably be good in the bedroom. Hey-o! (Sorry.)

Her marriage to the kind-hearted carnival owner is contrasted with her less wholesome desires for a more malicious carnival performer, and the scenes she share with him have the charge of a roughie, dark shadowy cinematography and an almost experimental cut to nocturnal Ferris wheel footage. Because this uses Browning’s movie as inspiration but pads the runtime so heavily, the eventual climax wherein Brennen gets turned into a freak is stumbled into abruptly, but the sequence itself is quite arresting. (not a spoiler, the movie basically opens telling us this will happen. To be honest, I don’t think she looked that bad as a freak, at least from certain angles. And judging by the way she handles the snake, she’d probably be good in the bedroom. Hey-o! Sorry.) Byron Mabe and David F. Friedman had clearly been watching all those Hammer and Mario Bava movies coming over from across the Atlantic, and they pile on the coloured lighting aggressively, while getting nice and close to the ghoulish freak makeup in between reaction shots where Brennen trains her wide open blue eyes and the gawk of her Mary Woronov jawline right at the camera as she screams in terror. And the rest of the movie looks quite good too, as it has that bright, ‘60s B-movie look, which gives the outdoor scenes a warm and sunny atmosphere and really makes Brennen’s purple outfits pop.

[majorprojectalex]

Coming up with the magic trick

My idea was that on his first act, the magician introduces himself to the public, and tells them about the many treasures and obscure magic items that travellers have left in the cave. Then he says that he will need his assistant to help him present all of the items, but he has been disassembled into different boxes that have been scattered around, so he will have to reassemble them. Then he brings the booth out from back stage (making a joke or two about how this would have been easier with an assistant). Then he goes back again to gather all of the boxes, in a similar way to Blastoff, with the assistants head, arms etc, poping out of different boxes briefly

Then the magician puts them in the booth closes the curtins, and then when the opens them the assistant is fully assembled on top of the boxes (at least on the performances where he doesn't die).

So, there would be two parts to the trick, one about the boxes, and one about the booth. Since the assistant appears in the booth, this is the element that the player has to figure out, and what I should focus on making.

I started by doing some preliminary sketches in my notebook to figure out how it would work visually.

Then I created some more sketches digitally, where I thought more about the boxes and how they would fit in the booth

And I also created some outlines that are a bit more clear.

The first and second one give an idea of the sizes of the boxes and the booth in comparison to the assistant. And in the third one I was trying to come up with why the assistant appears dead inside the booth.

The concept for why that happens is that basically the murdered was the magician but another character (B) witnessed the murder. B is a part of the magician's crew, but is trapped there contractually and hates the show. So when they see the murder they immediately see it as an opportunity too sabotage the show. They recover the body and create the illusion that the assistant's body appears in the booth by magic. They do that by wrapping the assistant in a blanket and tying the corners onto dry ice. And by the time that the magician opens the curtains the dry ice has melted and the assistant's body falls on the boxes. (this whole thing with the dry ice was inspired by an episode of poker face, where dry ice is used to hold a trap door on the floor closed, but by the end of the show it has almost melted so when someone steps on it the ice breaks and they fall through)

The explanation is kind of long and convoluted and if I do end up making a demo it will not be included in there, but I still want it to make sense so that I have the option to continue the game after the course.

I also started thinking a bit about the mechanics and UI as it was coming up on the schedule. So I came up with the idea that you can see the booth from different angles, and you unlock an angle whenever you can show that the you have figured something out about the trick

There is a main tab with the big view of the booth, and then there's smaller buttons with different view buttons at the bottom. i also liked the idea of having views that you haven't unlocked yet be locked by chains.

Bibliography:

Penn & Teller Perform Lift Off Of Love (2016). YouTube. 25 August. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PoDhuIp3I0&ab_channel=TheLateLateShowwithJamesCorden (Accessed: 23 August 2023).

[issaxcharlie]

You are mine

Pairing: Alive! Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

Summary: Luke and Y/N have many problems and commitments in their lives and instead of solving them they decide to blame the other. Eventually, the fights end their relationship. Luke travels with Sunset Curve during the summer and when he returns he has a pretty clear idea in his head. He wants his girl back.

But it's not as easy as it sounds when the competition had 3 months to score points with the cheerleader in his absence.

 Three months. Luke has gone three months without seeing Y/N. They have been inseparable since they met when they were 12 years old, never spending more than days without seeing each other. But the moment they broke up Luke knew he had to get out of the freaking town because if he couldn't distance himself he was going to end up the very next day at his ex-girlfriend's house begging her to accept him back. And the truth is that both needed to breathe and rethink what each one is looking for in their future.

Because although he’s head over heels in love with her, the truth is that both were in a moment of their lives in which they couldn’t and specially wanted to adapt to what the other needed. They had a lot of different responsabilities and things to do, it was just hard sometimes to add more to the list.

Which meant that she missed several of his concerts, that he was late for her birthday party, that there was no time for dates, that they didn’t feel supported. Many arguments trying to fix things that never came to anything because neither of them really wanted to commit. None willing to give in.

And then the painful but friendly breakup in early summer happened.

Bobby has a truck and the boys decided that doing a roadtrip during the summer performing wherever they could to earn enough to keep traveling was a brilliant idea to distract him and make the band known, and he agreed without looking back.

Things turned out much better than any of the four expected and they even had the luxury of traveling one more week, so they have a week of homework to catch up on. Will his relationship have ended on good enough terms to ask Y/N? Homework is not that big of a deal for him but it usually takes him a little longer to miss more than 15 assignments.

As soon as Luke opens the front door, his eyes fall straight on her. She is on her back trying to hang up some posters, but he would recognize that body wherever, from whatever angle.

His eyes immediately scan her wrist, which doesn't have any of the couple matching black-and-white bracelets they both used to wear all the time.

The first of many reminders Luke would get that day about his breakup with the cheerleader.

Y/N stands on her tiptoes trying to reach the height required for the poster, but no matter how hard she tries, she can't reach it. She’s just going to give up and ask for help when she feels some strong and determined hands lift her without any sign of trouble or doubt.

She doensn’t need to turn her head or listen to his voice, the strong grip on each side of her hips and his intoxicating perfume are more than enough to confirm who is lifting her in the air.

Luke is not playing fair. Y/N hears his husky and seductive voice as his lips lightly brush her ear. “I know you love my hands on you, but do you plan to put up the poster at some point?”

The cheerleader is shocked for a few seconds, until murmurs around them remind her that they are not alone. She puts the poster as fast as she can and instructs her ex-boyfriend to take her down.

Reluctantly she turns around and for the first time in quite a few weeks her eyes meet her favorite ones, which at least for the moment, are deep green.

"You can't do that, Lucas. We broke up."

He smirks. She only calls him like that when she's trying really hard to scold him even though it's not what she actually wants. She tries to look more determined and tough, but he can see through it all.

He decides to rest one of his arms on the wall, leaning just enough so that their foreheads are almost touching, and then smiles at her. One of those smiles that she used to classify as the most tender and beautiful sight in the world and that used to receive a light sweet kiss in return.

But this time, instead of a kiss, her gaze tells him that he is crossing the limit and that it’s better to stop. Neither has to say anything, she doesn't need to throw his arm out of the way or yell at him to move.

The two of them know each other better than anyone, and when Luke sees that expression, her wrinkled nose, her eyes lit with annoyance, her crooked mouth, he knows it's time to retreat.

“I’m sorry ba-” His gaze automatically saddens as he remembers that he can no longer call her that. He can see that her eyes also look a little sadder and duller after imagining what the guitarist was going to say. “I’m sorry Y/N. I just missed you.”

“Luke, look at this man. I've been here for 10 minutes and already 14 girls gave me their numbers to pass them to you! I guess word got around that you're single again.”

Alex and Reggie go blank when they are close enough to see their beautiful friend, since Luke was covering her from their sight. The guitarist turns to tap Reggie on the shoulder, and Alex decides to hug her to ease the tension in the air. Her hands are shaking, and Alex is not sure if from sadness or jealousy, but he decides not to say anything and keep hugging her, trying to make her feel supported.

“We missed you so much, we are not Sunset Curve without you.” Alex confesses loud enough for the other two members present to listen and nod their heads.

“I missed you too, boys. My summer was too peaceful and quiet without my favorite band.” The drummer lets go of her and Reggie replaces him by hugging her tightly, moving his arms behind her back silently asking Luke what to do with all the papers in his hands. The annoyed guitarist takes them and throws them away without thinking twice. Reg whispers "rude" and his friend rolls his eyes at him.

Reggie lets go and the four of them stare each other for a few seconds, none knowing what to say or do.

"Hello, sorry but I came to escort this beauty to her next class."

The fifth voice belongs to Cameron Green, who has just appeared in front of them and offers the girl his arm to intertwine with hers.

The perfect captain of the football team. Luke has known for years that the guy has some feelings for his girl, but he never had to worry because he knows her, she would never do anything that would put his trust at risk. But now, things are different.

She takes a step forward to accept the gesture and turns to see the boys one last time.

"I guess I'll see you on music class." She offers an apologetic smile, Alex smiles back to let her know it’s okay.

"But what about lunch break?" Reggie asks, after all, the five have been sitting together for years, they didn’t even separate when Y/N entered the cheer squad.

"I promised to sit down with Cam, sorry guys. But see you later!"

Y/N turns to look at Luke for a few seconds, as if waiting for him to stop her. But never happened.

So both her and Cameron walk until the band can’t see them in the sea of students. Reggie and Alex turn to see their friend, who has his hands wrapped in fists and looks totally crimson, his face irradiates frustration as he clenches his teeth.

“I prOmiseD tO SiT DoWN WitH CaM, fucking hell I’m out of here.”

“You are not going anywhere, man! It’s time for an intervention.” Reggie takes his friends by the arm and leads them to the janitor's closet where he pushes them and closes the door.

“The janitor's closet, really?” Alex asks and Reggie smiles proudly. “..Okay.”

"This is stupid, can we get out of here now?" They both return their attention to Luke, his face radiating despair.

"No. You can't keep prolonging this anymore. What did you think? That no one was going to try to date the most popular girl in school? Are you really so self-centered as to believe that no one would dare just because you are the ex boyfriend? Local rockstar or not, she’s a gem."

“Of course not, I just went into denial, I guess. All I know is that I miss her. I missed her every day this endless summer. I know the experience was amazing, but every night while I was singing the only thing I could think about is how much I wanted to see her beautiful dorky face in the small audience. The way she blushes when I'm singing straight to her direction and I send her a wink. The passion with which she sings each of the songs that she has been listening to over and over for years. How proud she looks of us as we give that final bow.

And it’s stupid, you know? Because somehow, I forced myself to think that having a girlfriend was depriving me of the opportunity to live experiences like that, to live my dream the fullest.

And what I ended up discovering when I did them is that my dream is simply never going to be fulfilled without her. As Alex said, she is as much part of Sunset Curve as any of us. And that now she has other interests or priorities doesn’t diminish how much she loves us and how much we love her, our dreams don't have to collide. And I'm a real idiot who took 3 months to realize it while I'm sure that fake dude was doing his fight to win her over.”

“FINALLY!” They both scream while hugging their brother. “Dude, I’m pretty sure she’s still in love with you, just act fast. You both have to stop being so stubborn and learn to give in for each other's sake from time to time. You cannot ask the other what you do not give.” Alex advises.

“I’ll win my girl back.” Luke smiles, hoping that if he says it with enough conviction it will come true.

The boys decide to go back to classes, by the time they are about to reach the lockers for gym, the other guys are already there and a lively conversation is heard.

“Man, it's not like I've been in love with her for years. I don't even know her. But stealing Luke Patterson’s girlfriend who is casually the most popular girl in school, is simply the step that makes you a legend in this small town. Not to mention that perfect body, what I would do to her if I had the chance."

No one has noticed the Sunset Curve members are present, and the second they hear him Reggie and Alex cover Luke's mouth and drag him out of there.

“I’m going to kill him! And before you say it, I don't care if it's the stupid football captain! If his monkeys hit me I have the satisfaction that I already gave him a black eye and I took out 3 teeth from him. No one is going to play or talk about her like that!"

To say that he is angry is an understatement. He is shaking with fury, moving in the small hall from one side to the other trying to calm the urge to slam his fist against the wall, because if he is going to slam it somewhere it will be in that idiot's face.

“You have to control yourself and be smart for once! he is the golden boy of the school, no matter how popular you are, your reputation as a bad boy is not going to win against his. Maybe not even with Y/N, she might think you're just fired up to see them together."

As much as it hurts to admit it, Alex is right. That clown has convinced everyone in the school with the idea that he doesn’t break a plate. While the guitarist is famous for skipping classes and playing clubs until dawn.

“And what am I supposed to do? I hope you don't suggest that I just sit around doing nothing."

Reggie takes two steps back in case Alex's suggestion is in fact Luke to do nothing. After all, he has to protect that adorable face.

“I’m not telling you to do nothing, I’m asking you to pay attention to what’s really important. Don't focus on him, focus on her."

He’s not going to say it aloud, but Alex is right, again. She should always be his main focus.

After his friends manage to convince him to take the peaceful route, Luke spends the rest of the day searching for the right words to say, but it’s difficult to find inspiration when every time he turns the love of his life is next to a jerk who is only trying to deceive her.

Not to mention lunch break, every time that idiot tried to touch her or get too close, the guitarist felt his blood boil. The only thing that kept him sane is that she politely pushed him away each and every time.

Reggie managed to convince her to come to the studio with them after her cheer training, just like they used to do last school year. The boys waited for her each time and then she accompanied them to their band rehearsals. Or at least they did before both she and Luke started arguing for not wanting to put in that extra effort.

Alex and Reggie watched as the relationship began to decline and the fights began to escalate. And when the breakup became official, they knew they had to keep the exes away from each other. The ex couple had never been apart and it was important for them to make their friends realized how much they want and love each other's presence in their lives. How lucky they are to have such a supportive partner at their side.

They never said anything to Luke but they could see how sad and depressed the guitarist looked without her. As if that spark in him was missing.

All day they were observing their girly who looked just as miserable, that special aura full of dull energy.

Alex had a theory that he explained to Reggie. When a relationship finishes going through that time where it feels new and recent, when you get used to the other as a couple, sometimes it is easy to take things for granted and not want to continue trying or giving the extra.

Sometimes you get lost in that lapse, and finding a balance is not easy. But when you love someone as much as they love each other, well, it’s easy to guess they’ll find the way.

So while Alex distracted Luke, Reggie ran to convince his girl friend to join them, which wasn't easy considering she already had plans with the football player. At that moment the bassist was grateful Luke was not around to hear that.

Once they are together, things will settle down. They have both suffered enough to know that without a doubt everything they have to do for the other is worth it. It’s time for them to stop being stubborn because Reg and Alex are not going to bear being in the middle for long. Those two can be insufferable sometimes.

So, that's how Sunset Curve ended in the stands. Watching her friend as the squad lifted her to the top of the pyramid.

Luke can't help but see her with loving eyes. He feels so proud of her, and that’s when he realizes he can’t remember the last time he actually told her, and that hurts him. She should hear those words every day, and if he is lucky enough for her to accept him back, that will be one of the first things that will change.

He's so focused on watching her, that he doesn't realize the football team is starting a fight just yards away until Reggie hits him on the shoulder.

Cameron pushes one of his teammates straight into the pyramid, which begins to disarm before the guitarist's eyes.

Some of her team manage the impact not be too strong, but she still stays motionless on the ground for a few seconds because of the shock.

Cameron Green kneels in front of her, Luke tries desperately to pass but two big guys get behind their captain to block him.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” The desperation in his voice indicates that he will do whatever it takes to get to her.

“Leave her alone already, Patterson!”

Reggie and Alex catch up with him and mentally prepare for what lies ahead, when they hear Y/N's weak voice.

"No! Luke, please. I need Luke."

The guitarist takes advantage of everyone's momentary shock after hearing her voice and manages to get to her side.

“I- I- I’m here, baby. I’m here, don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Luke lightly caresses her cheek while examining her body, it seems that it was more the scare than anything else.

“I know.” She smiles at the contact of Luke’s hand in her skin.

“Yeah?” He asks almost in a whisper, he is hypnotized watching her. Trying with all his might not to kiss her.

“Yes, you are here. As long as we are together everything will be fine.”

“Is this your subtle way to tie me up again?” Luke teases while helping her sit up. The whole crowd watches them around the field. Cameron looking angry just a few yards away.

She laughs. A wholesome laugh, full of happiness. “Oh honey, we all know you never stopped being mine."

If there is something that turns him on, is his Y/N’s confidence. (And see her in nothing but his t-shirts but that’s not the point.)

“Right back atcha, baby.” He brushes his lips against hers while making that seducting face that she can hardly ever resist, but this time she surprises him by taking him from behind the neck and crashing her lips on his.

The people around them begin to applaud the show, and without interrupting the passionate kiss Luke puts his arms around her back and legs to lift her up and carry her away.

Reggie and Alex do a fist bump and then one looks for Y/N's things and the other for Luke's and follows them from behind.

"They endured a whole school day, wow."

"If we hadn't stolen Luke from her over summer they would have been 2 hours apart and it would have been the most embarrassing separation of all time."

"The two of them were going through a lot and they didn't know how to cope at the time, but now that they are both better, I’m very happy they’re back together, they are soulmates."

“They sure are, Reg. Did you see Cameron's face when Luke stuck his tongue down Y/N's throat? PRICELESS.”

Thank you for reading✨

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @ghostofmgg, @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress, @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa, @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13, @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals

[jaskiersvalley]

Ur wolficorn fic sent me into a catatonic laughing fit I straight up couldn't breath for almost 2 min thank u

I'm so pleased the Wolficorn fic had you laughing so much. It was definitely one written in a spur of the moment idiocy XD While I don't have anything quite so silly to offer today, how about some idiot shenanigans of less outlandishness?

Sharing Is Caring

There was something unique to Wolf Witchers that nobody outside of their school knew about. their mages had been experimenting with not just the body but the mind too. Knowledge was essential to being a successful Witcher and little did anyone know but the mages were highly competitive, wanting their school to be the best. The Wolf mages had secretly perfected a formula. They called it Moss because it spreads and links minds so they can share knowledge without issues.

It's all well and good, Lambert, Geralt, Eskel, and Vesemir get together each winter and spend nights linked, sharing stories from the path, helping figure out whether harpies have a blind spot they could exploit to make contracts a little easier. However, the year Jaskier, Cahir and Aiden were with them, and Aiden can smell the unusual potion on Lambert, the ruse was up. They all wanted in on what sounded like quite a lot of fun.

"It requires a lot of control, adepts learn it together while they're still young," Vesemir grumbled, reluctant to share.

"Well, I'm a Witcher, I have control," Aiden shot back, pulling himself up to his full height and puffing his chest out.

Not to be out done, Jaskier was next to him, looking equally entitled. "I am nothing if not a quick study."

Somewhat slower and a bit more shy but no less determined, Cahir cleared his throat from behind them. "I won't be left out either."

Which was how, outnumbered and threatened with being pestered, sung into madness and soulfully stared at, Vesemir relented. They set the great hall up, pillows for comfort, more than usual because Jaskier demanded it and the vial of Moss was brought out.

"As the strongest in Chaos, Eskel goes first, he'll ground us," Geralt explained. One by one they took a sip and passed the vial on, then got comfortable, lying down and reaching for the person either side so they formed a circle of sorts. Like a gentle wave, something tugged at them, dragging them from the present into something warm and comforting.

The memory surfaced gently, there were pangs of fatigue and aching muscles but muted. The focus was very much on the nest of harpies that had been disturbed. Through Eskel's eyes they could see how he worked, corralling the creatures and approaching from the side. An inner monologue started up.

"I'd noticed that the harpies tended to approach at a 20 degree path from the rockface over the years. And if they swarm, they stay at a 25 degree angle to each other. So I set about testing a theory."

In the memory the harpies shifted as Eskel jumped but did nothing else. When they zeroed in on him again, Eskel moved too.

"I suspected that the harpies have a blind spot in the 20-25 degree range. It is something that is worth exploiting. In a group they will try to guard each other's blind spots but can be used against them, especially with projectiles."

There was a soft clamour in the memory of multiple not quite voices brushing together, a feeling of intrigue and gratitude. Eskel's memory was followed by Geralt's a review of some of the flowers and the regional mutations he had found in them. Lambert brought forth his contract on a werewolf whose stomach had been filled with stolen silver jewellery, probably in the mistaken hope of it preventing the transformation. Though he quickly stopped sharing about what he then did with the found silver, Aiden's memories picked up. There was glee and excitement in there. They had sold some of the silver to get a nice room for the night as well as a bath to share.

The problem was, there was no way to look away from a memory and Aiden seemed to have no shame in sharing the knowledge he'd learned on the Path that year. Namely, he'd discovered a new way to flick his tongue during a blowjob that had Lambert keening, head thrown back and tendons in his neck standing out.

Somewhere in the muted mixture of outrage, humiliation and pride there was one clearer voice.

"Thanks for the tip, I'm so trying that." Which was how focus moved from Aiden to Jaskier. The first thing that hit them all was exhaustion. Aching legs, a creaky knee a back that screamed to be allowed to lie on a flat surface. Instead, Geralt stepped through the doors of the tavern, looking equally drawn and in the memory they could all feel the wide smile Jaskier sent him before looking to the tavern owner. The set Jaskier played was no different to his usual by the looks of it, however this time there was an increasing wave of concern from Geralt as Jaskier struggled at hiding his fatigue and sadness. It wasn't that he didn't like performing but his heart ached that he had to push himself at every opportunity because people didn't take kindly to Geralt. The memory ended when Jaskier trudge upstairs, forcing his chatter and smile until his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light.

There was silence in their joined consciousness, an uneasy shifting from Jaskier at his secret having been spilled until Geralt mentally enveloped him, gratitude and sadness.

"There's a lot that's done out of love," Cahir mused. There had been absolute blankness from him for the whole joining which had been unnerving. It made Lambert and Aiden turn their attention to the void that shrouded him and began poking, pulling and trying to tease something out of him. It was Eskel's warm push that jolted them all into a memory.

"I remember this," Eskel thought. "You said nothing had happened."

That might have been a small lie. Eskel had been out to track down fiend that had been terrorising a king's hunting grounds. He'd said it would take at least three days to track it and kill it before dragging a head back as proof of completion of the contract. While he was gone, Cahir had been permitted to stay at the castle as a guest. With his knowledge of Nilfgaard, he was a valuable asset and many often tried to draw information from him in a variety of ways.

The fiend was taking longer to sort than anticipated, not that Cahir was worried. It was only the fourth day and he'd ride out the next day if there was no sign of Eskel, that was fine. However, he had been invited for an audience with the king in the throne room. What was nice was that the king stood rather than lounge in his throne though that was probably more to do with his sciatica than the desire to treat Cahir as an equal. It did mean though that when a messenger came in, Cahir heard it all.

"My King, there's news that the fiend has struck again. Rumour is that the Witcher has failed, might be injured in the forest."

"How unfortunate," the king had drawled.

"Do we send a rescue party?"

"Why bother? He's just a Witcher?"

The flare of fury and protectiveness was overwhelming and the memory was choked by it, only brought back into focus by the sound of a slap as Cahir delivered a swift, hard backhand, making the king's head snap to the side.

Immediately there was the sound of swords being drawn and guards advanced on Cahir who gave a nonchalant shrug.

"What? He's just a king."

Spluttering, the king waved his guards off and glared at Cahir. "People love me. I matter to them. A Witcher doesn't."

"I don't love you. But I love my Witcher, he matters to me." Cahir glanced at his nails, the perfect image of disinterest even as his stomach was in tight knots. "You're say here, getting fatter each day. Eskel's out there actually protecting your people. So tell me, who matters more? A king who is easily replaced and they're dime a dozen on this Continent? Or a Witcher when no more of them are being made and the only ones who can conquer a fiend when it hunts in the same area you wish to pursue for sport?"

The memory closed off at that, Cahir finally getting control back over himself. He shrank back into his void, a soft murmur of embarrassment echoed in the connection. "You weren't meant to find that out."

Breaking the circle, Eskel pulled himself from the effects of Moss and the others broke out of it too, just in time to see Eskel roll on top of Cahir and kiss him.

"You could have died you idiot."

"So could you." Cahir refused to feel remorse or regret for his actions. "From what I recall, the king paid you handsomely for your efforts when you came back the next day."

The moment was broken by Jaskier clearing his throat, hand in Geralt's and tugging. "If you'll excuse us, we have a new tongue trick to try."

Without a word, Vesemir walked into the kitchen, down into the cellar and got started early on the moonshine.

[imaveryevilenby]

Alright so once I get an AO3 account I'll move this over there but until then you're getting it here

Behind The Mask*: Chapter 1

*this is a beta name it's subject to change

So I had the idea of making a story from the perspective of an outstandingly popular teen pop star with a... thriller twist ;)

This will be the first chapter of who knows how many

Enjoy!

Tw for: death, choking, needles, and probably more but idk what they are. Read at your own risk

My outfit was checked one last time before showtime, although it didn't really matter. A million different people with a million different jobs had spent all morning rushing in and out making sure I looked perfect. That every wrinkle was ironed, every millimeter of skin covered in more makeup than a clown wore to make sure I looked like the pinnacle of beauty from every possible angle.

During these times, with nothing better to do, my mind often wandered back to before I had made an international hit song. Before every stadium I went to sold out in the blink of an eye. Before I had "made it" in the eyes of everyone but myself.

Those were simpler times. Small crowds of mainly people I knew personally and occasionally a new face, dressing how I wanted, the feeling of butterflies before each performance that had faded long ago, actually singing the songs that I loved, and much more that constantly hangs in the back of my mind as a stark contrast to my life now.

I snapped out of my daydream to see my manager ushering me to the platform under the stage. His name is rather unimportant, but know that he was an asshole.

He looked me up and down, pondering, and after a while sighed a curse to the designers of my outfit for making it so unfashionable.

"You sure you're ready for this, kid? You look like hell" He grumbled, his ever present kindness as apparent as my sarcasm.

I gave the warmest smile I could to hide my deep hatred for the man and just managed to speak in a cheerful voice, saying, "I was born ready, now come here and give me a hug!"

"Alright fine, but just this once. You're such a weird kid, you know that?" My manager replied, rolling his eyes and stepping closer.

As soon as he got close, my arm darted out of my pocket, syringe in hand, plunging it deep within his neck and injecting a strong poison in a single, practiced motion like a coiled snake strikes at its foe. Shock filled his eyes as he stumbled back, falling against the wall, grabbing at his neck and panicking at his rapidly dwindling ability to breathe. His throat closed up, mimicking an allergic reaction and providing me an opportunity to shrug off all blame once more. He looked at me, pure hatred and fear in his eyes and I stared back, watching the life drain slowly from his body.

My warm smile had changed by then. Becoming something more sinister. A look only the most deranged killers can manage watching their prey suffer from their actions. The last thing you want to see before dying. That is the look I gave that awful scumbag of a human being in his final moments. That is the look I give them all before the life drains from their body. That is the look that you should hope to never see.

Finally, my manager's eyes rolled back into his head and he stopped moving all together. His thread of life cut by my hands. What an exhilarating feeling it always was.

Knowing I'd be dead too if I was caught here, I took the syringe, wiped it down with a disinfecting cloth to both clean it and take my fingerprints off it, and opened the elevator door, throwing the cloth and syringe in the gap between the floor and the elevator. With any luck they wouldn't service the elevator for quite some time, long enough for me to slip on to the next tour destination. Riding the elevator up to the stage, I thought upon my newest victim. Poison wasn't my favorite way to kill someone, I decided, but it sure gets the job done.

Reaching the top, I put on my best performance face and prepared to lip sync songs I hated in front of a massive audience like I had done so many times before.

I walked on stage, my presence causing the crowd to go into a massive uproar. They were completely unaware of what had just happened moments before, none of them imagining that I could ever do such a horrific thing.

A thought crossed my mind: how would each person react to killing someone? Would they be horrified at what they've done or get filled with excitement and look for more? Would their response change depending on who it was they killed?

How would you feel, dear listener?

....

[END TAPE ONE]

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Part 4 of the newest train fic! part one | next

Geraskier | T | five times Geralt tries to tell Jaskier he loves him and one time he succeeds.

For some time after that, things return to normal and Jaskier is surprisingly quiet about his scar. It haunts Geralt's thoughts. He thinks about it during the days, especially when they're camped out and at the mercy of anything that might show up to hurt them. Geralt keeps his eyes and ears open, always alert. And even when he sleeps, he dreams about it sometimes, a nocturnal reminder that this is his fault, that if Jaskier had stayed put in Posada all those years ago, he would never have gotten hurt, he wouldn't have that terrible scar now.

And Jaskier has assured him it's nothing, reminded him that Geralt also has scars and they're a mark of survival, but Geralt finds it hard to believe. Not when Jaskier still winces when he bends at the wrong angle or when he has to apply ointment in the evenings before bed. Geralt doesn't think of it as a mark of survival because even though Jaskier did survive, he never should have been in danger in the first place. Without Geralt in his life, he could have been somewhere warm and cozy, home somewhere or in someone's bed, but instead he was in the wrong place at the wrong time because he insists on following Geralt around. Or, rather, because Geralt isn't strong enough to tell him to leave.

And for a little while, things are calm. Geralt keeps his thoughts to himself and Jaskier continues on as optiisically as he always has. But then they come to Vizima. There's a wyvern getting too close to the city walls and they'd put out a contact for a Witcher. Geralt was happy to find somewhere he could find work and leave Jaskier at an inn where he would be warm and fed and safe.

But now that they're here, Jaskier is going on and on about wanting to perform at some feast or other held for the king's son. Geralt had shrugged it off at first because wanting to do something doesn't warrant an invitation, but Jaskier is insistent that he'll play. While Geralt goes to the inn to get settled, Jaskier goes off to talk to the king—or whoever will listen.

Geralt is reluctant to let him go, but the city is completely closed at night since the start of the attacks and guards are posted at every possible entry. Jaskier is safe here, Geralt can relax a little.

The contract is a simple one; it turns out to be a disoriented youngling that Geralt dispatches easily before hurrying back to town. He takes the head to the captain of the guard and collects his pay before returning to the inn. Jaskier is downstairs waiting for him, apparently celebrating his upcoming performance and Geralt sighs.

"You're invited, of course," Jaskier babbles as they make their way up to their room. "The king could not possibly deny my best friend—and the man who saved his kingdom from a ravenous beast!"

"It was a confused wyvern, Jaskier."

"Eh, same thing. Anyway, you will be accompanying me and we'll have to find you something to wear and—"

"I'm coming with you," Geralt says, "but I'll wear what I like."

"Gods, Geralt, can't you ever have a little enthusiasm about anything?"

"Yes, but I hardly think dressing up for a bunch of nobles is something worth being enthusiastic about."

Jaskier just rolls his eyes as Geralt pushes the door to their room open and darts in ahead of him, sitting on the bed at the far side of the room.

"Well, I'll be getting dressed up and I think you'll look quite silly showing up like that."

Geralt looks down at himself, still splattered with blood and lifts an eyebrow at him. "Well," Jaskier shrugs, "not exactly like that, but you know what I mean." He turns away and bends to pick up his lute from where it's leaning against the wall and he lets out the faintest little whine.

A human wouldn't be able to hear it, but Geralt is attuned to Jaskier at the best of times. He's striding across the room and hovering in a matter of seconds. Jaskier just sighs at him as he straightens up and places the lute case on the bed.

"I'm fine," he says, "just twisted funny is all." Geralt doesn't believe him.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asks and Jaskier rolls his eyes.

"Yes," he says firmly. " Geralt, you wouldn't even let me play for days. I am fine, I want to do this. Just… stop worrying so much." He offers up a warm smile that melts away the remainder of Geralt's protests and he grumbles to himself as he crosses back to his own side of the room, already pulling off his armour.

Geralt doesn't own anything nice to wear to a feast and he's not about to go and buy something for it, but he will clean up. He couldn't give a shit about the king or his son, but Jaskier does and he'll do it for him.

He calls for a bath and cleans the muck off himself and out of his hair, declining Jaskier's assistance. He's already going to be straining himself playing tonight, Geralt doesn't need to make it worse. So he gets clean and picks out his nicest clothes once he's dry; a spare pair of trousers that haven't been worn since the last time they were washed and a white linen shirt. He looks presentable and Jaskier doesn't complain about it, so he considers that a win.

Jaskier finishes tuning his lute and warming up and then, smiling delightedly at Geralt as he leads him away from the inn and toward the castle. Geralt watches him closely for any sign of pain, but either Jaskier is doing an excellent job of hiding it, or the wound is getting better.

Jaskier lights up when he performs, always has, but something is different about tonight. It's probably because it's been so long since he's had a captive audience but Jaskier glows under the attention of his audience. Geralt has never been one for poetry, but watching Jaskier, he can understand the need to write down, to keep a memory of beauty when you see it. There's no mistaking it now. He let himself consider it once and the gates have been opened and refuse to shut again no matter how hard he tries.

He loves him. Loves the way he smiles when he sings, the way his laugh will sometimes disturb the rhythm of the song, but he just keeps going. Geralt loves all of it and he almost lost it, almost lost Jaskier.

He looks at the people around them, how they fawn over him and he understands, he does. But they see a smiling troubadour, an entertainer. They don't see the way, as the night wears on, that Jaskier favours one side or the way he slows and limits his movements. Geralt does and something about it makes his blood boil. They don't care about Jaskier, they care about his music, about what he can do for them, and Geralt itches to get him out of there, to somewhere he can be properly cared for.

Jaskier takes a break after a couple more songs and Geralt pulls him into the corridor.

"What's wrong?" Jaskier asks, clearly recognizing the anger in Geralt's face.

"It's hurting again, isn't it?"

"It's fine," Jaskier says, but he lowers his eyes and Geralt curses.

"It's not and you're making it worse performing for these people. They don't care that you're hurt, Jaskier, they just want to listen to you."

"And I want them to," Jaskier shrugs but Geralt sees how even the slight movement causes pain. "Anyway, why do you care what they think about me? You've never cared before. You let me perform after I nearly drowned that one time in—"

Because I love you, you fucking idiot. Because I want you to be warm and safe and comfortable.

"Because I—" the words catch in his throat and he frowns. "Because you certainly don't and someone needs to look after you," he scoffs. Jaskier just smiles fondly, if not a little teasingly, up at him.

"Oh, Geralt, you do care." Geralt wants to tell him that he always has, but Jaskier doesn't give him a chance, ducking away to return to his performance with only a quick, got to go, see you tonight. Geralt measures his breath and shuts his eyes, but just as he's about to turn and head back to the inn, Jaskier appears back through the door.

"Thank you, Geralt. I'll try not to overdo it."

[fancyfade]

Okay, a lonely place of dying thoughts. This will be long

So, I just finished re-reading a lonely place of dying. before I get to far into it: This is specifically to analyze the way the character and information is presented to the reader. It’s not to say “so and so is a bad character” or “this is a bad plotline”.

Starting off: they were definitely playing it super safe for the comic reader when they introduced Tim. It feels as if he is introduced literally as an audience avatar. For a large portion of the time before we meet him, we literally are seeing through his eyes -- the panel is positioned so that we would be at his head height, looking at whatever he’s looking at. we never see him except for his hands (so the audience can presumably imagine themselves in his shoes).

this isn’t the way they usually frame unknown characters or characters whose identity is obscured to create an air of mystery -- and there’s an excellent comparison in this same plotline, because there is a character with their identity obscured, who was framed a different way

[image: first two panels are of two face, who is wearing a trench coat and a fedora that casts a shadodw and obscures his face so we cannot tell who he is. His face is completely in shadow. he is talking to someone behind him. he says "Tomorrow. The zwei brothers warehouse. Two am. Now go back to your wife. the fat lady's about to sing." in the next panel, we see him from behind. the back of his head is entirely in shadow to avoid giving us any hints as to who he is. the man he's talking to, Gerry sky, says "whatever it is -- later." two face says "now. 'payroll activation'" and gerry says "okay, okay -- now."

next there's a panel with the dialogue whited out. We still see two face, wearing gloves and having nearly all of his skin (except for his face, which is always in shadow) covered. First we look at him from above and he is small against a dark room with a bookshelf in the background. Then there's a closeup of only his gloved hand as he turns off the radio. We see him from behind (thighs up) as he stands in front of a window, then another shot of his gloved hand trying to touch the radio. and both his hands clench in fists. He hits the radio, breaking it (his body is still off screen except for his arm and hand) and then at his feet we see the broken radio. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of two face on panel

Notice: The presumed “camera angle” is dynamic around Two face. We see him from multiple angles -- from both in front and behind. When we are looking at the same thing he's looking at, we are positioned behind him, like we're looking over his shoulder. the close ups on his hand are not positioned as if he's looking at his own hand and we are in his head pay special attention to the panel he's adjusting the radio on and the fourth panel of the page -- we're looking from the side of him or from behind him and under his elbow there.

Two face is our mysterious bad guy. This is how they visually frame a character they want an air of mystery around.

compare that to the framing around tim

[image: first, we are looking through a camera that is continuously taking pictures of Batman as he stumbles down a slide, walks shakily to his batmobile, and takes off. then the camera is lowered (we see the hand that is lowering the camera in the view, it is below us as if we were looking through this person's eyes) and put inside a duffle bag. after that, we see something in the conrer of the screen -- an arm wearing a jacket?) and puddles of blood, then a bike tire -- but not the rest of the bike, which is off panel -- cutting through the puddles of blood. next pages shows a bunch of internal monologue that has been blockedo ut. a series of batman and robin pictures from the newspapers and a picture of batman swinging on a line in a scrap book. (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. we can see the hand grabbing this picture as if we were holding it.

then we appear to be behind whoever is on the page, looking at his elbow, as he opens up a drawer, then we're back "inside" his head again as he holds up a photo with the graysons (john, dick, mary) and the drakes (tim and his parents). 3 year old tim is sitting on 12 year old dick's leg. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of  Tim in Panel

okay sorry forgive me but this is fucking fascinating in my opinion. Notice that for two face, most of the close ups on his hands were specifically away from his point of view -- we weren’t positioned where his eyes were, but looking from the outside in.

For tim, we’re almost always looking through his eyes, contrasting to two face

and for tim, even when we were not looking through his eyes, in the very first page, he wasn’t even on panel -- we knew nothing about him, we just saw the edge of his bike. the second page we saw a bit of his arm but we never zoom out far enough to see his whole body and definitely not his face -- even if it would be obscured by shadow.

The first read through, I assumed they were going for an air of mystery, but the contrast between how they handle two face and tim to me makes it clear that they weren’t -- it might have been an unintended side effect, or a bonus effect, but it wasn’t the main purpose. The audience is literally viewing most of the panels Tim is in through Tim’s eyes. He is almost literally an audience avatar.

My general hypothesis here (which I think I am supplying proof of) is that Tim is intended to be an avatar in universe for the “average comic reader" (with some assumptions made by the writer about the average comic reader re: race, age,  gender, socioeconomic class)

For more support of this, let’s see how Tim talks about batman and robin --

[image: 3 comic panels from batman 440 featuring newspaper clippings (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. there is internal monologue from (the framing of the scene implies tim drake, but at this point he is unknown to the audience) reading “He seemed happier with dick. Now, I guess it’s like he just doesn’t care. But I want him to care again. I want him to be the batman I remember.” then, we have panels from the new titans 61 dick, as nightwing, is reaching in to talk to tim. he grabs tim's arm. dick says, “I don't believe this. that man raised me. I've gone through hell with him and because of him. Don't lecture me about him until you've cared for him and loved him as long as I have”. dick puts his helmet on and drives off on his bike. before leaving, he says "when jason died, he took robin with him." Tim cries and calls after him: "I... I was only thinking of the team... of what Batman and Robin meant! You can't let a legend die like that, Dick..." end image]

end image/begin comment - Tim’s perception of Batman & Robin

Notice in the first panels (with the newspaper clippings) that Tim is reminiscent, he specifically talks about ‘teh batman and robin’ that he remembers. The narrative puts more significance for tim on the fact that batman is not happy and he is not the batman tim remembers, rather than the fact that batman is beating people nearly to death (tim notices this, and it seems to be a “because batman is so clearly sad” thing -- which this is not I believe intended to be a commentary on tim’s priorities, since the general narrative seems to be using bruce’s ultra-violence as a sign he’s angsty).

Then, compare dick’s reaction to bruce with Tim’s.

Dick’s connection to Bruce is extremely personal. Bruce, Batman, whatever, is his dad and raised him and, like he said, put him through hell sometimes. His connection to Jason’s death is similarly personal.

Tim’s connection to Batman and Robin is extremely abstract and idealized. He is thinking of them as, say, a comics reader might think of them. As a crimefighting team who are not together anymore, and this is bad.

this is just bulletpoint 2 in “tim is supposed to represent the audience”, not intending to be a condemnation of tim.

Thirdly

[image: first, a comic panel from Batman 440 showing a close up of Tim’s hand as he reads a paper and him thinking ‘No! the haly circus is closing?’ then, a series of comic panels from the new titans # 60. first, we see mr haly (off screen) and his cigar (on screen) as haly gestures at a photo of the flying grayson's on the wall. then he says "Yeah. Cost us a fortune and brought down our selling price. You know, sometimes I sit here and just remember the good old days. We were barely breaking even back then, too -- but man, were we having fun. then, we see dick grayson wearing jeans and a red shirt, walking through the circus ground. first, he looks kind of dejected and his hands are in his pockets. the narration box reads "he leaves, trying to reconcile the past and the present. Kids grow up and change. but why should everything do the same? The animal cages stink with waste. Was it always this way? At times like now, he wishes for never-never land." then, dick turns as he hears something and says "Hunh? That scream?" end image]

end image/begin comment - Nostalgia as a Theme

Nostalgia is an EXTREMELY strong theme in this comic. Batman is different, he’s not like he used to be. Haley’s circus is different and at risk, but Dick goes back and meets the performers he used to know -- some are still the same, some are in a more rough situation (alcoholic clown). Someone’s trying to kill his friends in the circus, it’s not really a place of childhood innocence for Dick.  Dick explicitly wishes to be in never-never land (the imaginary far off place where you never grow up)

How things should be -- both in Tim’s mind and Dick’s mind, Haly’s mind  -- is the idealistic past, but we clearly can’t go back to it -- Dick says that the first thing Bruce taught him was how to grow up.

Next bulletpoint:

[image: first are some comic panels showing Tim Drake talking to Dick Grayson and Alfred Pennyworth in wayne manor. Tim says “You know, since I was able to read, I clipped every article I could about Batman and Robin. Heck, I used to fantasize about what it would be like to be robin. I study hard. I get mostly A’s. I work out. I’m no circus acrobat, but I’m pretty good, I guess. But mostly, I read aobut you two. You’ve both been so important to me in so many ways. And when I see that without Robin Batman is going off hte deep end, I know there’s serious trouble.” next, we see Dick stepping forward and talking to Tim. he says "But you haven't told me anything I don't already know. I want the rest of it. All of it." end image]

end image/ begin commentary - textually a fanboy

Textually, Tim is presented as a Batman and Robin fanboy -- that’s how he found Batman’s secret identity (link)

He studies Batman and Robin from afar. He reads about them. Kind of like a comics reader would. he wants to be Robin. Again, superhero comics have some wish fulfillment element and definitely wanting to imagine yourself in a character’s shoes is an appeal for many fans. Tim wanted to imagine himself in robin’s shoes and fantasized about being him -- there’s kind of two layers here, one is the presumed audience member reading tim, wanting to imagine themselves in his shoes as he interacts with his heroes, the other is tim, who wanted to imagine himself in dick’s shoes.

re: the second posted image in this set: Tim hasn’t told dick anything that dick doesn’t know, because tim doesn’t know anything dick doesn’t know -- he is the comic reader here. That’s also why he’s so up-to-date on all of the other comic character’s stuff -- we see him list off all of the teen titans, he talks about jason’s death casually, he knows that alfred is batman’s confident -- he pretty much has all of the information that a reader of DC comics would have if they just got beamed into the DC universe at this point.

[image: first, two panels, one showing tim smiling and thinking "Wow! And I thought Harry did it. Man, Dick is good". tehn we see dick holding some photos and talking ot tim, who is at his bike. dick says "These pictures, two face is back in town, isn't he?" Tim says "You can tell, just from them? Wow! You're even better than I thought." the next scene is in the batcave. Dick is nightwing and is about to leave on his motor cycle, alfred and tim are behind him. tim says "no, not nightwing, Dick. don't you understand -- Batman needs Robin!" he turns to look at alfred and says "Doesn't anyone understand?" Alfred says "Perhaps, young man. Perhaps master Dick understands profoundly -- perhaps that is why he brought you here." tim looks surprised. end image]

end image/begin commentary: The old robin’s approval

another very important thing here: DC plays it as safe as possible with tim’s introduction, trying to make the audience like him, and one is definitely establishing that Tim both looks up to dick and thinks he’s cool (first two panels) and that he has dick’s presumed approval/blessing to be robin (last three panels). it’s also important to note that while tim is portrayed as competent, he never shows up Batman and Nightwing -- he rescues them because two-face lured them into an expert trap, but he doesn’t outdo either of them on fighting or detective work. this has an in universe explanation -- he is 13 years old, just starting out -- and an out of universe explanation -- if he’s not showing up anyone’s favorite character, he is presumably more palatable and less threatening for the presumed reader.

that’s what i mean when I say taht DC played their intro of tim very safe -- he falls in with the established characters, already likes them, is practically already a fan of them with full fanboy connotations. The idealized past is presented as something as desirable, both to the reader and to the characters themselves, and there is a strong current of nostalgia and returning things to how they “should” be with Batman having a robin. Tim voices what many readers may feel: That batman lost his way, that he needs Robin, and he gets to act out those feelings in the comic. the text acknowledges that they can’t just force dick back into it, that people have to grow up, and dick passes the mantle to tim.

overall I think that tim’s employment here was effective, but I look forward to seeing more when he’s allowed to be himself rather than an audience avatar. I understand lots of people like audience avatars and he was wildly popular presumably for those reasons, but I personally found the plotline lackluster at points.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Only in a Sitcom

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo Rating: T

Summary: Darcy has no idea what the hell’s going on with this WandaVision thing, but neither does Jimmy. It’s kinda fun to have somebody to binge-watch alternate reality TV with.

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen 15 fifteen / 16 sixteen / 17 seventeen / 18 eighteen

this fic is now complete!

Darcy, Jimmy, and Monica have been working their way across Westview in as straight a line as possible, knocking on every door in every cute little cul-de-sac in their path. It was Jimmy who asserted they should never put their backs to a dangerous situation, but Monica who overruled that statement, pointing out that they were more likely to stay focused if they didn’t keep staring at the fight in the sky.

Darcy thinks they were both right. There’s a tingle rippling up and down the back of her neck, like she gets when she’s up in the middle of the night, spooked by shadows her anxious, overtired mind is too eager to turn into monsters, but the heebie-jeebies give her the energy to work quickly. She takes on an entire crescent on her own, readying people for a departure she’s certain they’ve been longing for. As she’s coming out the crescent’s other end, she realizes the Hex is getting brighter; the red storm clouds are being sucked back into themselves to leave a thin daylight.

Standing at the corner, she watches Jimmy and Monica emerge from the street opposite. Darcy jogs over, wincing. Wanda could’ve put orthotics in these Escape Artist boots. They’re blistering her feet.

“This has to be a good sign, right?” she asks, motioning to the calm skies.

“Look,” Monica instructs. She jerks her chin and Darcy and Jimmy follow her line of sight to see Wanda, Vision, and the twins coming up the main road.

Darcy gasps.

Wanda’s gone from bumming-around-the-house sweats to battle-ready chic. With her armour-like bodice, gloves that leave those magic fingers free, and an usually-shaped tiara framing her forehead, she’s both intimidating and otherworldly. But she’s smiling. Darcy would call it a sad smile and it hurts her heart to see it, even though she doesn’t understand.

As Wanda passes them with her hand held fast in Vision’s, she turns her head to nod at Monica. It’s in her eyes too, the same thing that’s in her smile. Something tired but present. Gone are the comedically darting glances of her persona as the bumbling new girl in town and the frazzled energy of a mom trying to corral a couple of superkids. It looks like she’s finally letting go of the illusion/delusion.

“Can we do anything for her?” Jimmy asks as the family continues on down the middle of the street.

“No,” Monica says. “The rest is for Wanda to do on her own.”

“We might as well head back towards the center of town,” Darcy says. “We don’t need to waste time at the edges. They’ll be the first to wake up.”

She points to where the Hex is shimmering on the horizon. The seconds pass and the shimmer looks messier, a weave of overlapping wires fritzing with energy. The edge is coming closer, but unlike when Wanda pushed the boundary farther, closing it around Darcy and her S.W.O.R.D. nemeses, this isn’t menacing. Wanda’s powers are no longer looking to consume more territory, they’re contracting. Faster than the incoming wave of the walls, the Hex goes dark. The red glow is intensely magical in the sudden night.

The three of them fan out, hitting the houses in their new route, and make their way back to the town square. They’ve been telling everyone to remain in their homes until they receive further instructions to evacuate, but Darcy spots a figure on the sidewalk by the department story. It’s Agnes, except… not as they saw her lately. No wild hair or billowing, layered outfit. No levitation. Darcy’s wary in the face of the woman who appears so much like her former self, the one supposedly under Wanda’s control. This Agnes has a damn Peter Pan collar poking out of her sweater! She couldn’t look much less threatening.

“What do you think?” she asks Monica when she joins her.

“I don’t know.” Monica peers across the street at Agnes in the dark and when Agnes notices, she flashes a wide smile.

“Well, maybe we should— Hey, no, wait!”

But the Captain strides across to meet Agnes. Darcy almost follows in her idol’s wake, but she quickly remembers that Monica has powers to protect herself that far exceed the right hook Darcy used to drop Agent Handcuffs. Whatever Agnes’s deal is, Darcy knows she’s an entirely different kind of beast from an asshole S.W.O.R.D. agent.

“What’s going on there?” Jimmy wonders, coming up beside her.

Thanks to the stress of trying to speak to as many citizens as possible in a short amount of time, including looking dozens of people still under mind control in the eye and aching for their lack of agency, the fear of and for Wanda as she witnessed that clash in the sky, and, really, the car crash that’s still pretty recent, Darcy reacts to her boyfriend’s presence by wrapping her arms around him tightly. With his tie pressed to her cheek, she feels him hug her back.

“I don’t know,” she says, carrying on the conversation without pulling away an inch, “but Monica’s finding out.”

“Agnes looks like an average Westviewer again. It’s disconcerting.”

“She must’ve been faking right up until she went head-to-head with Wanda.”

“And now she’s one of them for real.”

“Seems like,” Darcy agrees.

When Monica returns to confirm Agnes’s newly mind-controlled status, Darcy peels herself most of the way away from Jimmy, leaving her arm around his back, beneath his FBI jacket. He rests his arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t know what we do with her,” Monica says, hands on her hips. “We can’t undo what Wanda did, but do we leave Agnes here in Westview, trusting that she isn’t able to hurt anyone? Do we bring her in?”

“If it’s beyond our power to help her, maybe we just leave her here,” Jimmy suggests. “Wanda knows where she is, so we let Agnes stay in a place she can be found when or if Wanda decides to release her.”

“It’s tricky,” Darcy says slowly. “Agnes is capable of doing so much damage, and I’m sure she’s going to get good and angry while Wanda has her trapped inside herself. You and I know how that feels,” she says to Monica. “But that Agnes is secure—as far as we know—inside Sitcom Agnes, like little Agnes nesting dolls. I don’t know if this is the kind of punishment she deserves for pushing Wanda to the brink, but I do know it’s not going to be pretty if that inner Agnes is unleashed with nobody around to mitigate the consequences.”

“Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division,” Monica says softly.

“Hmm?”

“S.W.O.R.D. That’s what we’re supposed to stand for. I think, without Tyler Hayward around, it’s high time S.W.O.R.D. went back to its roots of trying to understand exceptional people, circumstances, and technology instead of just attacking them.”

“Sounds as though you might have a plan, Captain,” Jimmy says. Darcy glances at his face and catches his small, knowing smile.

Monica beams back.

“The former Director may have kicked me off the base, but I’m still S.W.O.R.D. and I still believe in my mother’s original goals for the organization.”

“Hey, it’s your legacy,” Darcy says. “You have my vote for Director.”

“You want to put Agnes under S.W.O.R.D. observation?” Jimmy asks.

“Not just Agnes. Not if Wanda’s willing to listen.”

With the sky rapidly lightening, Monica roughs out a plan that involves a partnership between S.W.O.R.D. and Wanda Maximoff. A partnership because any other dynamic would surely fail. After what they all witnessed today, it’s obvious that someone as powerful as Wanda can’t be held against her will. In exchange for Wanda making reparations to the people and town of Westview (not the least of which will be repairing all physical damage, which Monica knows Wanda’s capable of, since there’s no longer a Monica-sized hole in her living room wall) and an agreement to be held in the custody of S.W.O.R.D., under the leadership of Director Monica Rambeau, Monica thinks she has plenty to offer Wanda.

“You think she’ll do that deal?” Jimmy asks.

“That’s my question too,” Darcy says. “I mean, without the deal, Wanda can go where she pleases, right?”

“But she’ll be alone,” Monica counters. “We know what her loved ones mean to her. That’s what all this has been about—Wanda doing whatever it takes in order to go through life less alone.”

“What can you give her?”

“Vision,” Jimmy says abruptly. “The other one, the one who left. You think he’ll be back.”

“I think he’ll want answers,” Monica agrees. “Whatever Hayward did to him, he did at S.W.O.R.D. and I’m betting that Wanda will see that’s her best chance to reunite with Vision.”

“Vision will come back,” Darcy says, putting it together, “and Wanda will be there waiting.”

“And in the meantime, we use her expertise as we continue our work in a… more transparent vein. Give her access, keep her busy.”

“Keep her happy,” Jimmy cuts in. Monica nods her acknowledgement.

“Yes. Show her what it’s like to help people again. What better way to remind her there’s more to the world than her artificial paradise than to have her consult on the work we’re doing in space?”

“If you need somebody to sell Wanda on the space angle, I’m your girl,” Darcy volunteers.

“I’ve already had some ideas about that,” Monica promises with a smile.

Her eyes focus beyond Darcy and Jimmy and they turn to see what she’s looking at. Black hood drawn up over her head, Wanda’s walking back into the downtown. Alone. Darcy hopes that the fact that she’s black-hatted doesn’t mean she’s already decided against working to redeem herself to rejoin the good guys.

“You better stay in touch too,” Monica tells Jimmy, shifting as she prepares to intercept Wanda.

“If you reach out to Darcy, I’m sure I won’t be far,” he says. Darcy’s heart performs quick, happy thumps.

With that, Monica walks purposely towards Wanda. Darcy watches her cautious body language and Wanda’s tension in response to being accosted, but there isn’t any visible escalation. When FBI vehicles and the team Darcy assumes belongs to Major Goodner roll up the street, Wanda doesn’t flee. Darcy looks to Jimmy.

“You better go take charge,” she suggests.

He gives her a bashful smile.

“I will in a minute. The evacuation should run like clockwork after all the prep we did. With the Hex removed, everyone’s free.”

“They’re free, I’m free…”

“Are you free Saturday?” The smile’s a little slyer now.

“After all this, I don’t even know what day of the week it is,” Darcy admits, “but yes.”

He laughs.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, twisting to face him as his hand moves from her shoulder to her waist. “Quiet night in watching TV?”

“You know, I think I need a break from TV for a while. How about a movie?”

Darcy grins.

“You buy the tickets, I’ll buy the snacks?”

“Deal,” Jimmy says, and smiles against her mouth when he ducks his head to kiss her.

[acnelli]

Hiding

This is my entry for the Hinny FicFest 2021 hosted by @clarensjoy. Thank you for organising it! There were so many lovely prompts to choose from and originally I wanted to write something really angsty for this one, but then decided to approach this in a much more lighthearted way.

Thank you @accio-broom for beta-reading! You are the best!

Prompt 2: Ginny gets sick and won’t admit it Rating: GA Pairing: Harry/Ginny Summary: Ginny had a bad day, including an unfortunate injury, which she tries to hide from Harry.

Also available on AO3 and FFN.

Ginny walked out of St. Mungo’s with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione’s cat Crookshanks to shame. The world was against her these last couple of days; she just knew it. 

It had started with a horrendous loss against a team the Harpies were positive they would never lose to; the Chudley Cannons. The orange excuse of a professional Quidditch Team had beat them, and it wasn’t even a close match. They lost 590 to 120—an absolute disaster. 

Of course, her insufferable brother had lost his mind, along with all the other Cannon fans in the stands. It had been the first time the Cannons won in what must’ve been years, which resulted in the players not even hearing the referee’s whistle, signalling the end of the game. 

Ginny had given Ron the tickets to this match as a birthday present. As long as the Cannons lost every single time, and she could greet her brother with a smug grin, she was okay with Ron switching his Harpies jersey with her number on it to his orange Cannon one. This time though, Ginny found it nothing short of traitorous, and even her family, including Harry, had the gal to congratulate Ron. Her brother would make sure she would never forget this day, no matter how many times the Harpies would kick their arses in the future. 

The Harpies, quite demoralised from their previous match, had shown up at training the next day, as usual. After a pep talk by their coach, the team had pepped up, flying different manoeuvres and acting out the strategies for their game against Ballycastle the next day. 

Enjoying the wind on her face, as well as the feeling that only flying so high up in the air could provide, Ginny had forgotten all about their loss and solely concentrated on getting the Quaffle inside one of the three loops from every possible angle. She had been so engaged in training that she noticed the dangerous wheezing of the Bludger one second too late. Although she could dive away to avoid getting hit in the face, the ball collided with her left ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on a stretcher as a medi-wizard treated her injury. 

A broken ankle usually could be treated by the team’s healers, but the young man insisted on transferring her to the hospital as he suspected a more complicated fracture. And because it was Ginny’s lucky week, he had been right eventually. 

The healer who treated her advised Ginny not to play against Ballycastle as the Skele-gro would cause a great deal of pain, and painkillers were strictly forbidden at Quidditch matches, especially pain-relief potion which had strong side effects, and therefore, were a danger to herself and others while on a broom. 

Against the healer’s strongest protests, Ginny refused the skele-gro and asked the middle-aged woman to stabilize her ankle and give her some light painkillers that would wear off until tomorrow. 

Ginny needed to play tomorrow. A few days ago, Oliver had tipped her off that the national trainers would be watching the game against Ballycastle, and there was just no way she would pass this chance to show them that she was the right choice to play for England. Even if they only let her join as a reserve Chaser, it would be her ticket to play international Quidditch. 

While the discussion with the healer had been annoying but without any chance for the St. Mungo’s employee to change Ginny’s mind, the real battle would be at home. If Harry got even the slightest hint about his wife’s injury, a fight would break out, fitting these infuriating last two days. 

Harry, usually being blissfully oblivious to most things, immediately noticed when something was up with Ginny. While most times, this little fact warmed her heart, it was rather unfortunate today. And ever since Harry joined the Aurors, he had become even more of a bloodhound when he sensed a secret. 

Ginny was determined to try her best to appear normal when she carefully walked out of the fireplace and into the living room of Grimmauld Place. As she expected, Harry sat on the settee, reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet. 

“Hey, Gin,” Harry greeted her, looking up as she walked over to where he was sitting, “How was training? Did Rodgers let you off earlier today?” 

The painkillers still in effect, Ginny leaned down to kiss her husband, carefully lifting her weight off her injured ankle. Kissing Harry always made her feel good, but after her dreadful day, it simply felt like heaven. 

With one swift movement, Harry pulled her down with him on the settee. She cuddled up against his side, inhaling his scent as she trailed kisses down his neck. As their kisses became more heated, Harry rolled on top of her, and just as she was about to sigh because of the sweet friction, a pained whimper escaped her when Harry hit Ginny’s foot with his leg. 

He immediately jumped up, eyes going wide, and Ginny knew that she lost her little hiding game. Carefully sitting up, she waited until Harry crouched down in front of her, looking at her worried. 

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong with your foot?”

“Just a small accident at training today,” Ginny tried to reassure him, “Nothing serious.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Why does it still hurt then? Your medi-staff can heal most injuries in a heartbeat.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ginny said, cursing her bloody Weasley genes as she felt her ears turning red. As graceful as possible, she stood up, heading for the kitchen. Besides the fact that she didn’t want to have this conversation, she was also hungry. 

Of course, the conversation was far from over because Harry followed her into the kitchen, watching her with a raised eyebrow as Ginny made herself a sandwich. When she turned to face Harry, she tried to casually stand on her good foot, pretending her ankle wasn’t throbbing in a more penetrant manner now. Obviously, the painkillers had already started to wear off. 

“Why are you hiding this, Gin?” Harry asked, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, “Why didn’t you just go to a healer?”

“Because they would give me skele-gro and a pain-relief potion, meaning I wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow.”

“So? Ginny, I know you are amazing, but I’m sure the Harpies can manage one match without you.”

“Yes, they sure can,” Ginny huffed in frustration, “But if I don’t play, the scouts for the English national team possibly won’t take me into consideration.” 

Harry stood up and walked over to his wife, leaning down to get on eye-level with her. “To quote your brother: Are you fucking mental?”

“It’s my career, Harry! Playing for England is the dream, and I refuse to let this silly little injury get in the way.” 

Instead of commenting on this, he gently took Ginny’s hand, leading her to sit on a chair. More out of discomfort because of her increasingly throbbing ankle than the willingness to sit down, Ginny complied anyway. 

“This is far too dangerous, Ginny. You can’t possibly hold yourself on a broom for-”

“This is not up for debate,” Ginny interrupted him, her tone clipped and her face now red from anger, “I’ll just grit my teeth long enough to play some of my best manoeuvres, and then I’ll ask for a timeout and Rodgers will put me on the bench.”

“And you think Rodgers will be alright with you playing injured? Or are you planning to hide it like you tried to hide it from me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Harry sighed in frustration at her trademark Weasley-stubbornness but he took Ginny’s hand anyway. 

“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, alright?” Ginny wanted to interrupt him, but Harry just kept talking. “You want to play in a game, most likely showing only a mediocre performance because of your broken ankle. Ginny, these scouts don’t have to see you play in this particular game. They know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of already. If you’re not playing in this match, they’ll watch you play in the next one. Assuming they want the very best for the national team, they’ll sure enough not write you off because you couldn’t make it to this match.”

Harry could tell that Ginny’s resolve was already crumbling, but he knew better than to stop here. “There are also your brothers, and more importantly, your mother. Molly will kill me if she learns you hurt yourself even more, despite me knowing of your injury.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to this game for so long,” Ginny sighed, frowning at the unfairness of it all. 

“I know,” Harry said, leaning forward a little to softly kiss her pouting lips, “But you can’t play. It’s not just dangerous for you, but also for your teammates and Ballycastle.”

Harry’s words destroyed every resolve Ginny still had standing. The last thing she would want is someone getting hurt because of her stubbornness, and certainly not her beloved Harpies. 

“Since when are you the voice of reason.” she groaned, letting her head fall against Harry’s chest and draping her arms around his neck. 

Harry took this opportunity to swoop her up into his arms before walking towards the fireplace. 

“Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing at the prospect of the knowing look the healer will give her when she comes back. 

Before Harry could floo over to the hospital, Ginny leaned up and placed a hot kiss against his throat. 

“If I have to stay at home all day tomorrow, you better keep me company, Potter.”

[zenonaa]

'Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.'

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Kirigiri Kyouko, Asahina Aoi, Hagakure Yasuhiro Additional Tags: TogaFuka Week 2021 Summary: Togami and the others stumble across a photograph of him smiling, but he can't remember the context so the others try to figure out what happened for him to do that.

Comments: owo what's this? togafuka week day 1: happiness! i haven't actually written something for all the days but this is one of the things that i did manage to squeeze out.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

Cleaning up Hope’s Peak wasn’t an afternoon affair. Beyond the old school building that Byakuya knew too intimately, debris clogged hallways, trash lay scattered throughout the campus like weeds and the air smelled of rust and blood. The group of seven started with the art building on the east side of campus. For the first few hours, Yasuhiro hummed as he hauled cardboard boxes, Komaru still had the patience to prepare and bring lemonade, and Aoi’s sunshine voice beamed between walls as she shared a story about the time her family held a second-hand sale in their backyard.

By the end of the day, however, their lively chatter had dimmed with the sky. Inside remained as bright thanks to Byakuya and Yasuhiro reconnecting the electricity, but darkening windows reminded them of the aches in their limbs, the ebbing flames behind their eyes. Byakuya swept his gaze across what used to be a theatre but was currently a sorting room filled with boxes instead of chairs. Makoto, Touko, Komaru and Yasuhiro were sitting together on boxes, while Kyouko and Aoi had just walked in with a dirty wheelbarrow.

“We should adjourn until the morning,” Byakuya announced. He reached a hand toward his glasses, intending to push them up, but stopped himself when he remembered the grime clinging to his palms. Not wanting to dirty his glasses, he lowered his hand.

The Byakuya of the past would have deemed this sort of manual labour beneath him, yet he had willingly spent most of that day working alongside his companions. His friends. How things changed.

“There is so much stuff,” said Aoi, who by now had parked the wheelbarrow and was slouched against it. She wiped her vest against her forehead.

“And not a lot of it is useful,” added Kyouko, next to Aoi. Yasuhiro straightened up.

“Nonsense. All we need to do is spruce them up, and they’ll be ready to go on sale.” He walked over to a broken lamp, its shade bitten and discoloured, as dirty as the floor it lay on. “Like this lamp. Fix this up, and it’ll be as good as new. Then all we need is a good pitch and b’am,” he punched his palm, “sold.”

“You can’t do that with everything here,” said Komaru. He put his hands onto his hips.

“Not with that attitude! But with the right mindset, you could sell anything here, guaranteed.”

Yasuhiro rubbed his finger against his nose, grinning like a fool. Some things changed, but others stayed remarkably the same. Byakuya’s gaze drifted over to Touko, who was scowling at Yasuhiro. Touko was both different and the same. Different, because she stood firm where she used to cower, and she let others into her world where she used to cloak herself in darkness.

And same because while like Byakuya, she had learned to allow herself to rely on friends and for friends to rely on her, she was still head over heels in love with him.

She pointed at a black bag containing hunks of metal. “What sales pitch do you have for this?”

“Easy! All you have to do is make the contents into sculptures,” replied Yasuhiro. “Their only purpose is to be admired, ‘right? Add a backstory to go with them and boom, sold. You can do that to practically anything even if it’s trash.”

“No way,” said Aoi.

“Want to bet?”

The group roused to accept his challenge. Makoto found a used wipe container, and Yasuhiro clicked his fingers and said to fill it with plastic bags, turning it into a dispenser that was portable and could fit easily into a car drawer. Aoi presented him with pizza boxes, at which Yasuhiro laughed and demanded more so they could be decked in wrapping paper and transformed into a drawer unit. When Komaru found a metal pipe, Yasuhiro claimed it needed a clean and spray paint and it could sit contentedly on a shelf.

Yasuhiro even sucked Byakuya and Touko into the game. The cork in Byakuya’s hand changed into a keychain, and Yasuhiro’s voice fashioned an old juice carton into a recyclable purse ideal for coins and trips to the arcade. Each item that the others found, Yasuhiro repurposed it into something else.

“There has to be something you can’t reuse,” Komaru insisted. She peeled the lid open on a cardboard box and lifted out a hardback red book from inside it. “What about these photos? Who’d want to have pictures of strangers?”

“Photos?” said Kyouko, intrigued.

“Yeah, there are a whole load of albums in here. I went through a few earlier but didn’t recognise anyone, so I forgot about them.”

Touko rolled her eyes. “Typical...”

Kyouko and Aoi each took out an album. The box seemed to contain several of them, their covers glazed in dust and cobwebs.

“Gekkogahara-san is in this one,” said Kyouko within a few seconds of skimming.

By now, the rest of the group had gravitated over. Inside the album that Kyouko was holding, the photographs were contained in plastic flaps that overlapped so only the one on top could be seen unless it was flicked up, revealing the photograph beneath. In the photograph currently on display, Miaya Gekkogahara was sitting next to a pale guy with dark hair and dark shadows under his eyes, who Byakuya recognised as Yasuke Matsuda. They appeared to be seated at a computer desk, their heads turned toward the photographer.

“It’s really her,” murmured Makoto. “And not a robot masquerading as her.”

“Do you think these are all photos of her class?” asked Yasuhiro as he and the others picked up their own photo albums to browse.

“If that’s true, then everyone in these are deceased,” said Touko.

Aoi winced. “When you phrase it like that, this feels kind of morbid.”

Makoto flipped through a few flaps in the album in his hands. Then his creased forehead exploded as his eyebrows shot up. “This album contains our class!”

Everyone crowded around him. The photograph showed a pink room with a television screen hanging on the wall. Blurred writing glowed on it that Byakuya struggled to decipher. In front of it, Couch seats were positioned around three sides of a table, and on the seats sat members of their class. The only classmate not in the photograph was Sakura.

“Sakura-chan must have been taking the photograph,” said Aoi. “No way would our class exclude her.”

Holding the album in one hand, Makoto scratched his head with his other.

“I vaguely recall this,” he said. “Kuwata-kun... yes, I think it was him... booked a karaoke room, and the whole class packed in. All of us sang at least once.”

While Future Foundation had aided them in recovering from the memory loss inflicted by Junko, some memories were stronger than others. For Byakuya, he could recall plenty of events, but none came with any emotion attached. It was as though he was reading about them in a newspaper afterwards.

“Byakuya-sama graced us with his voice,” Touko piped up. The ends of her lips curled upward as she squeezed her hands together. “I r-remember... he made the air taste like chocolate syrup... his words spread a chill across my skin... ah...”

Byakuya remembered performing a single song, but he hated singing, and he couldn’t remember what compelled him to accept a microphone.

“Enoshima tried to steal such a precious memory from us.” Aoi rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. “Sakura-chan sang a beautiful song about friendship. Her voice washed over the room like the ocean.”

Kyouko placed a hand onto Aoi’s shoulder. Komaru flicked through the other photographs in the album. Byakuya didn’t pay Komaru any more mind, frowning at Touko as she seemed to relive the experience of him singing. Her recollection appeared much more intimate than his own. Part of him wanted to ask her for more details. Another part was repulsed.

Komaru gasped.

“What is it?” asked Makoto as they all focused on the album again. The photograph that had captured her attention depicted Byakuya. Nothing extraordinary appeared to be in the photograph - he was sitting on a bench at an angle, not facing the camera.

Yet the others stared with their mouths agape.

“I have never seen Togami-chi smile like that,” said Yasuhiro.

Byakuya inspected the photograph closer. Though it had been taken at a distance - probably so he wouldn’t realise someone was taking a photograph of him - there was a definite smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a cruel grin, or the faint curve he sometimes showed around his friends, but a smile showing teeth, one that didn’t just meet his eyes, but made his gaze, no, his face glow.

What he was looking at, however, was unclear. It was now that Byakuya realised the photograph had been torn, and the section that held the object of his attention wasn’t in the album.

“It must have been something amazing to have made him smile back then,” said Yasuhiro.

They all turned to Byakuya, who pursed his lips.

“Putting aside whether I would tell you if I knew, I don’t actually recall when this took place,” he said.

“Maybe we could help jog your memory?” Aoi suggested. “When I want to remember something, I write it on my palm three times.”

“That won’t help,” said Touko. “You can only do that while you still remember the thing.” Her teeth gritted. “Argh... if only I knew what could have elicited such a pure smile from Byakuya-sama...!”

She dragged her fingers down her face.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Byakuya. While the others burned with curiosity, discomfort stewed in his gut like when he had watched Touko reminisce about the karaoke session.

Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.

“There has to be some way to reawaken the memory,” said Komaru, her tone light without the burden of his thoughts. She turned to Kyouko. “You must know a way.”

“Must I?” Kyouko’s eyebrows rose.

“Because you’re from a detective family,” said Aoi, nodding.

“Actually...” Komaru’s smile cringed on her face. “I um... just assume Kyouko-chan knows everything.”

“There are a few techniques we can try,” said Kyouko, faintly amused. “Perhaps if we pinpoint when and where exactly the photograph took place, that may stir something in Togami-kun’s brain.”

Other than Byakuya, no one else was in the frame. A briefcase leaned against a bench leg and a pile of papers rested on his lap. Annoyingly, he couldn’t see any writing that may have been on the papers. In the photograph, he wasn’t looking at them. He was focused on the nothingness where the other half of the photograph should have been.

“That has to be the main plaza,” said Aoi. “I recognise the benches. Sakura-chan and I finished our morning runs there. Then we would sit down and drink some water. We never saw Togami there though.”

“Yeah. That looks like the fountain at the back,” added Makoto.

Kyouko stroked her chin. “The sliver of sky in the background appears rather pale, and judging by the colour of the leaves, it’s approximately autumn.”

“Togami-chi never missed a lesson, so it had to be late-afternoon at the latest, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro.

“Unless it was the weekend,” Makoto pointed out, prompting Yasuhiro to exhale frustratedly through his teeth. The thoughtful expression on Kyouko’s face, however, didn’t waver.

“We can deduce whether he had lessons on that day,” said Kyouko.

“How?” asked Aoi.

Byakuya already knew. “I’m not in uniform.”

“Indeed,” said Kyouko with a bob of her head. “So unless you changed into another outfit after your lessons, this scene transpired at the weekend.”

“Does that ring any bells for you?” Komaru asked Byakuya, clasping her hands together, eyes wide with optimism. “Visiting the plaza on the weekend, and catching sight of something that brings joy to your face...?”

His jaw clenched. All of them were staring at him. They had a campus as large as four high schools to clear and they had only made a dent so far, but the arduous task appeared to have been pushed aside in favour of probing his brain for some memory. Oh, how they tried his patience at times.

“I can’t say it brings anything to mind, though it is unusual for me to be there,” he said in a level tone. “Usually, during the weekend, I would be indoors, either in my room or in the library.”

Certainly not at the plaza. Certainly not with a brazen smile chipped into his face.

“I think we’ve followed the photograph’s lead as far as it can go,” said Yasuhiro. “Now we must turn to guesswork. If we bounce ideas off each other, that might help Togami-chi remember. Perhaps you had come from a meeting, where you struck a billion dollar deal?”

“Or you emerged from the cafeteria after they served some tasty donuts?” Aoi chimed in.

Byakuya’s frown sank in deeper.

“Or you finished a really good manga?” said Komaru.

“Or listened to a good song?” added Makoto.

Yasuhiro clicked his fingers. “I once read that listening to music is a good way to stir up memories. If we find a piece with the right mood, Togami-chi ought to remember the scene!”

“What sort of mood do you guys reckon we should play?” asked Komaru as she shoved her hand into her coat.

“Something cheerful,” said Aoi.

Komaru retrieved her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen. A few seconds later, a series of beeps sang out of her phone, playing over the sound of clapping and a fast drumbeat. She side-stepped back and forth to the rhythm, and Byakuya lasted until the first few lines of Swedish auto tuned singing.

“Turn that off,” snapped Byakuya. “It’s not helping me think. It’s giving me a headache instead.”

With a pout, Komaru switched it off.

“Perhaps we should visit the location,” said Kyouko.

Touko’s brow creased. “Won’t it be dark?”

“Don’t worry, Touko-chan, our phones can provide you with light,” Komaru assured her, patting Touko on the shoulder.

They set off, departing from the old theatre and winding through corridors toward the plaza. Byakuya stayed silent, lagging behind most of the others slightly. Only Touko seemed to take note of this, and though she didn’t speak to him, she hovered further back than him, and he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck like flies crawling against his skin.

As they drew closer, he concluded that they wished so desperately to discover the source of his smile because they planned to use it against him. Perhaps they intended to humiliate him, or blackmail or manipulate him. But they were his friends, weren’t they? Surely they didn’t plan on using what they learned against him?

Yet... if that wasn’t the case, then why?

The plaza was no longer the picturesque location it once was. It couldn’t have been in a brochure promoting the academy, like the photograph in the album. Weeds grew between upturned slabs, gnarled fingers reaching toward the sky. Nearby, the rubble corpse of the fountain didn’t spout water, dry as sun bleached bone. They all stood silently for a while, observing their surroundings. There were no benches to sit on.

“It sure has changed a lot,” said Yasuhiro.

“It’ll do. Hagakure, bend over on all fours.” Aoi pointed at her feet. “You will play the part of the bench.”

Yasuhiro balked. “Why me? You’re stronger.”

Her stare didn’t relent. He managed a few more seconds before he dropped to his knees and planted his hands in front of himself. Once he was in position, Aoi turned to Byakuya expectantly.

“I am not sitting on him,” said Byakuya flatly.

“Please, Togami-san!” Komaru pleaded, shaking her phone in both hands. Light from the screen danced across her face and when her hands stilled, so did the glow. It seeped into her skin, accentuating the crinkle between her eyebrows and the stare from her eyes that pulled, pulled, pulled at Byakuya until he snapped.

“Why are you all making a big deal of this?” Byakuya asked not only Komaru, but all of them. He flung up a hand. “There is a photograph of me smiling. That’s it. It concerns me that you’re so obsessed with finding out what caused me to smile.”

His question clenched them in its jaws, burning the air with acid. He waited for one of them to answer. For Touko to do more than fidget, and Komaru to stop chewing her lip. Finally, the pressure squeezed out a response from Makoto.

“You’re our friend,” said Makoto. “You’re usually so serious, and you rarely ever seem happy. We thought if we could find out what made you that happy back then...”

“... we could bring that happiness back to you now,” finished Touko, curling her fingers into her palms. Byakuya tensed.

That explanation had never occurred to him. For most of his life, he had been forced to be on the defensive, to anticipate betrayals and attacks from anyone. Then again, for most of his life, he hadn’t been acquainted with people like this. Friends. He grimaced, staring at Touko for several long seconds before averting his gaze and pushing up his glasses.

“Nuisances...” But he seated himself on Yasuhiro’s back, setting his feet firmly on the ground.

Byakuya tried to imagine the sky was a pool of water, not ink, and that he was on a bench, and that water streamed from a fountain behind him. However, the air remained as dry and dark as his mouth, and no matter how often his mind mended the slabs of the plaza, they would crack and decay within moments.

“Anything?” said Touko, wringing her hands.

He folded his arms over his chest.

“No,” said Byakuya. A collective sigh spread, though Makoto was soon grinning again.

“I guess we’ll have to keep trying to make you happy.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue, but his lips twitched outward and he quickly hid it behind his hand. Nuisances.

“Does this mean you can stand up now?” Yasuhiro asked from beneath Byakuya.

Aoi stretched her arms upward, arching her back, and yawned. “We ought to call it a day. It’s getting late.”

While the others headed toward the dormitory building that they were currently living in. Byakuya stayed where he was. Their footsteps faded, the glow of their phones shrinking into five pinpricks of light before disappearing completely. Despite his friends’ efforts, they had failed to uncover the story of the photograph. Now that he knew their motives hadn’t been nefarious, he could appreciate their attempts and found himself wondering what had happened all those years ago.

“It’s a shame we don’t know what made you so happy back then,” said Touko next to him, echoing his thoughts. She hadn’t retired for the night with the others. He glanced at her, meeting her gaze. Her phone shone a light against her wistful expression.

“I suppose so,” he said in a casual tone.

“With many of my memories, I don’t recall exact details, but they evoke certain feelings.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction in interest. “Oh?”

“Yes. For example, standing here... is stirring some emotion in me. I think I have a memory associated with this place too.”

Byakuya turned his whole body to face her.

“What emotion?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away, as if letting the thought sit on her tongue, tasting it.

“Warmth,” she said. “Like the warmth I feel when I’m with you. Perhaps I will never remember what happened to give me that feeling. B-But... I have many other precious memories... and I can work on creating more with you, Byakuya-sama.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. Meanwhile, his insides twisted, much like they did whenever she referred to him in a romantic manner. He had been experiencing the sensation more frequently around her lately. Sometimes, all she had to do was meet his gaze or brush against him, and his stomach would coil like she had pressed her lips against his.

“Byakuya-sama?” Touko’s voice broke into his thoughts. “A-Are you feeling all right?”

He did not want to think what about his face had made her ask that all of a sudden.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he adjusted his glasses. “We’ve dawdled here for long enough. Let’s return to the dormitories.”

“Together?” blurted Touko. Without a word, Byakuya strode away, and she darted after him, keeping abreast. “Are you going straight to sleep when you arrive back?”

His eyes stayed forward.

“No. I will have some tea and read first,” he replied.

“What do you plan on reading?”

“Out by Natsuo Kirino,” he said. Her head jerked back.

“I r-recently finished that!”

“I know. After seeing you reading it, I thought I would give it a try. I was more interested when I learned that it’s not a romance, but a crime novel.”

“I specialise in romance, but I read for a variety of genres,” she said. “I can recommend some more books i-if you want. Have you read The Inugami Clan? You may find the start slow, but I think you will enjoy the cast and the premise...”

He listened as they walked back together. The more she spoke, the more passionate she became, and he couldn’t help looking at her as she lit up, waving her arms around.

A smile poked at the corners of his lips, and he finally felt a sense of déjà vu.