#the string doesn’t even go near him! it circles everyone in the background while he sits in the foreground unmoving with his eyes closed!!

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

okay so i saw someone point this out and now i can’t find the original post about it but i am losing my entire mind over how the “golden string of fate” or whatever you may call it in the tlovm intro passes over everyone and they all lift their heads to look at it except for vax!!!! i can’t believe i’ve never noticed this before i’m going to be so unwell over it every time i watch the intro from here on out.

[stillness-in-green]

Why Deku's ultimatum to Overhaul is bad and he should feel bad

This is a bit outside my normal character wheelhouse, but I really need to get a rant about it off my chest, so here goes:

The Deku and Overhaul scene in Chapter 316 is terrible. It is fucking terrible.

I took a whirl around Overhaul's tag up through when the leaks first started dropping, but didn't immediately see anyone talking about why it's so fucking terrible, only concerns about letting Overhaul see Eri (understandable, but baseless, I think), some empathy towards Overhaul's current state (totally warranted!), some snark about Deku being So Done with Overhaul (haha because who cares about Deku's stated goal of trying to understand villains, right?), and, worst of all, some cooing about how Deku was being so compassionate and noble by offering Overhaul that olive branch.

Deku was not being compassionate and noble there. Deku was being arrogant, small-minded, and so shockingly cruel that it leaves me speechless that anyone could think his stunted and hard-hearted "offer" reflects well on him.

Deku's entire motivation in this arc has been wrestling with the realization that he might have been able to avoid some of the desperate battles of his past if he'd understood more about the villains he fought. He thought of three very specific people--Stain, Muscular, and Overhaul--as he reflected, "Maybe it wouldn't have had to go that way if I'd understood them better." He then thought of Gentle Criminal and La Brava, people who he’d come to some understanding of, who he’d been able to soften the conclusion of his battle with by going along with Gentle's fiction downplaying what had happened between them. The whole line of thought was intended to contextualize his newfound desire to save Shigaraki.

It soon became apparent that Stain, Muscular and Overhaul were, in fact, encounters that he would be revisiting, as a chance to see how he'd grown since he faced them, and as a dry-run on reaching out to villains that would give him a chance to practice ways he might reach out to Shigaraki when the time comes.

Well, based on his performance so far, the idea that Deku might be able to reach Shigaraki is laughable.

Firstly, his tentative questions to Muscular were ill-timed, all wrong for the middle of a battle. Muscular laughed him off, and I don’t think there’s any version of that scenario in which he would have done otherwise. Muscular was a huge threat, gleefully violent, disinterested in conversation about his history. Obviously, right in the middle of a fight was no kind of time to try to figure out what made the man tick! But Deku didn’t get the luxury of choosing the circumstances of that encounter, so yes, that battle probably was unavoidable, certainly if Deku wanted to stop him from doing further damage. But the idea that because Deku couldn't reach him right then and there, it's impossible for Deku--or, indeed, for anyone--to reach him at all is fallacious. Not every person has to be able to like or understand every other person. If Deku couldn't reach Muscular, so what? That doesn't mean it's impossible that someone might. And that means an obligation to treat Muscular like a human being, to afford him human rights, to not stop trying to find a way to rehabilitate him, even as you safeguard other people against him.

Deku's battle with Muscular being unavoidable was not some great triumph, for all that the narrative used it as an opportunity to let him show off how far he’d come in mastering One For All. In the way that matters, the way that Deku himself is currently trying to better, he hasn't advanced at all. Imasuji Goto represented his first test in the lead-up to saving Shigaraki, and Deku failed it.

His next trial was Overhaul.* Here, again, was someone who Deku was explicitly trying to understand. So what was the one thing that was most key to understanding Overhaul's current motivation? What was the one thing that Overhaul was ranting about out loud, incessantly? And what did Deku conspicuously fail to ask about? Overhaul's relationship with Pops.

This was so easy. So obvious. And Deku didn’t even try. All he could think about in the moment he was faced with that broken man was the little girl that man hurt--all thoughts of trying to understand where the man himself was coming from went right out the window, flown away in an instant. Instead of asking about why Overhaul feels the way he does, he demanded that Overhaul feel the way Deku wanted. He was essentially holding the only person Overhaul cared about hostage for the remorse he wanted Overhaul to feel.

I'm not going to try to armchair diagnose Overhaul with mental conditions. I don't have the educational background, and I'm positive Horikoshi doesn't. But it seems pretty clear that asking Overhaul to feel guilt about Eri was asking for something that he might not be capable of feeling, at least not without years of therapy that he was plainly not getting in Tartarus. And if Overhaul is not capable of feeling that guilt, then what does denying Overhaul his meeting actually solve? Who does it help? It doesn’t help Eri. Doesn’t help the old man. It certainly doesn’t help Overhaul himself. The only person who gets any satisfaction out of demanding remorse from Overhaul is Deku. And even Deku didn’t look like he found it very satisfying!

Another failure. A meaninglessly cruel, petty failure. A failure that served only to hurt a man who was already a live wire of agony, to sentence an old man to a coma he might never wake from without Overhaul's expertise, and to deprive Eri of the only actual family she had left.

And look, Pops might very well not be the ideal guardian for Eri, and I'm not saying he should get to "keep" her just because of the blood connection, but it's not like he cheerfully handed her over to Overhaul and walked out the door! He turned to Overhaul because he trusted Overhaul, because he wanted someone to help Eri and thought that maybe Overhaul could. And when Overhaul's thoughts about Eri took a very dark turn, Pops first denied his request about using her to further his research and then, when Overhaul kept pushing it, chose Eri over the kid he personally took in from the streets by telling Overhaul that he needed to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he couldn't muster any more respect for human life than that.

But, you know, Eri is so cute with Aizawa and stuff. And Pops was a criminal. Probably. Maybe? I mean, he was yakuza, anyway, so he obviously must have been a criminal even if the police never actually arrested him. Apparently, this means it's okay to just leave him in a coma forever! Even though Overhaul absolutely has enough medical expertise that letting him talk to a neurologist about what he did to Pops might enable them to figure out how to wake Pops up even without Overhaul being able to use his quirk to undo the damage. Hell, Overhaul is also the person alive who has the best handle on how Eri's quirk works. He might even know what her accumulation condition is. Maybe a better thing to ransom his access to Pops with would be Overhaul telling Aizawa everything he knows about Eri's quirk so Aizawa can use the knowledge to help her get a better handle on it.

But no. Obviously undoing some small part of the concrete harm Overhaul did was less important than how Deku felt about that harm.

And there's more! Oh, is there ever. I called Deku arrogant before; let me circle back to that.

Deku said that if Chisaki would feel the way Deku wanted him to feel, then Deku would uphold the promise to let Overhaul see Pops. But where in hell did Deku get off making that claim? Deku is a student. He's not a pro. He has no authority, medical, legal, carceral or otherwise. He has no say in where Overhaul goes or who he's allowed to see.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What kind of strings did Deku think he could pull that he could just casually make that claim without so much as going into a huddle with Hawks and Endeavor about it first? How inflated has this kid's sense of importance gotten that he made Overhaul that promise without even stopping to think about whether it was something he was in any position to ensure? It was such a bullshit ultimatum, not only because of how needlessly obstructive it was, but because it was so formless.

"If only you would feel a wish to apologize to Eri…" Okay, so what if Overhaul goes back to prison and, three days later, calls out to say, "Okay, I thought about it and I really feel like I want to apologize, now can I see Pops already?" Who gets to make that judgment call? Deku? Is he going to drop his faux-vigilante act and come visit Overhaul in prison just so he can squint at the man really hard to see if he's lying? Is Deku going to delegate the call to someone else? All Might? Hawks? A prison warden? A psychologist? Who? Who gets to be the one to say, "Okay, I think his remorse is genuine."

Then, once that call has been made, how many people have to arrange for Overhaul to be escorted out of prison and to whatever hospital Pops is in? Will Deku get to oversee that visit? Does he think he can overturn a warden declaring, "The scum doesn't deserve a visit, and the old man probably doesn't either," or a doctor protesting, "I'm not letting that man anywhere near my patient!"

The hell of it is, I think Deku could do all of that. He's got a close personal connection to All Might, who was basically a demi-god to this society for decades; he has the ear of the current top three heroes. Everyone is apparently convinced that the power to save this society rests solely in Deku's hands; I'm sure he could ask for anything he wanted. But the fact that that is the case suggests that this society is not even slightly turning away from its dependence on heroes dictating its morality. A hero having the sole right to dictate, out of hand, based on his personal feelings, the fate of people designated "villains" while the rest of society turns away is exactly what Shigaraki is angry about.

The only thing worse than Deku perpetuating the worst problems of hero society in an arc that's supposed to be about him finding a better way is that he didn’t even stop to think about it. It never even occurred to him that that was what he was doing. He thought that what he was asking of Chisaki was just and fair, and thus, he didn’t need to ask for any second opinions or permissions; he didn’t need to think about what would actually be feasible, about what was best for the people involved. He'd made his judgment call about a villain, and that's all there was to it. The villain could fall in line or--nothing. There isn't actually another choice. Hero's way or nothing

I hate it. I hate it. I don't care about whether Overhaul "deserves" to suffer; heroes making the cold decision that they will make him suffer is antithetical to everything a carceral system intended to rehabilitate prisoners stands for. And yes, Japan does at least claim on paper that the goal of incarceration in state hands is rehabilitation.

Restorative justice is superior to retributive justice. It's better for society and it's better for individuals. It is kinder, it is more compassionate. Retributive justice poisons people. It perpetuates suffering for no reason but moral grandstanding. Individuals are allowed to forgive or not forgive anyone they want, but a society should conduct itself with an eye to the long-term welfare of all of its people. That means that even the worst kinds of criminals still have human rights. It means not inflicting pain that serves no purpose.

I've gotten off-track here. Yes, I think that if Overhaul could feel regret about Eri, that would obviously be a positive development for his character. It'd hurt like hell, but it would be a hurt that indicated he was becoming a better person, a person who wanted to do more good, less ill, with his life and efforts. But you can't mandate that someone become a better person. No ultimatum handed down from on high is going to change Overhaul's heart. Telling someone, "I'll help you, but only if you only feel the way I want you to feel. Otherwise, you can just stay there and suffer," is not reaching out to help people who are suffering in the dark, which is, again, what Deku claimed he wanted to do, what he begged for Nagant's help in doing, the way he insisted to the vestiges that OFA should be used.

Deku writing people off because they don't conform to his expectations, because they can't be "good" the way he wants them to be, nor even "bad" in ways he can understand, is him failing to live up to his own expressed ideals. "I wish you'd feel bad about hurting people," wasn't enough to reach Muscular or Overhaul, and it damn well shouldn't be enough to reach Shigaraki.

Cruelty does not beget kindness. You cannot treat people with only callousness and severity, then condemn them for not taking the opportunity to grow. You have to give them opportunities to better themselves. For Overhaul, giving him an opportunity would be letting him help the man he wronged and then moving forward from there. Telling him to feel regret about Eri or else? That's doing nothing but sweeping his pain back under the rug.

---

*I have more or less exhausted my outrage over Lady Nagant in chats with friends, so I'll spare the rant on how disjointed, contradictory and ludicrous her turn was; the gist is "very, on all counts."

---

P.S. Anyone who says that Overhaul "has nothing left to live for" is being a level of ableist that defies description. Prosthetics exist. Assistive devices exist. Speech-to-text software exists. Overhaul is intelligent, driven and highly educated. Even if he never got prosthetics at all, there would still be things he could contribute to the world if he were motivated to do so. The better thing to do, though, would be to get the man some damn prosthetics, hook him up with the neurologist consulting on Pops' case, and let the two of them get on with the matter of waking up the old man.

P.P.S. Overhaul spent six months in solitary confinement. The United Nations considers solitary confinement exceeding 15 days to be a form of torture. Solitary confinement creates severe mental health issues and exacerbates existing ones. It frequently leads to a deadening of empathy, something Overhaul has in little enough amounts as it is. It is absurd to ask a man who's just come out of these conditions to "feel sorry for what you did to Eri," especially if you're planning to turn around and send him right back to solitary. Tartarus is inhuman, and the only reason more of the escapees aren't total wrecks like Overhaul is because Horikoshi clearly didn't bother to do the reading on the wide array of problems that those characters should be experiencing physically, mentally and socially.

[samstree]

for the drabble thing: “you weren’t there”

maybe post mountain geraskier? i’m in an angsty mood rn but whatever you wanna write will be good :)

Creatures of the Night (2)

It's the night of Jaskier and Valdo's wedding. Geralt needs to do something.

(endgame geraskier, background valdo/jaskier, angst, infidelity)

Previous | AO3

The Oxenfurt Observatory might just be the grandest building in Redania.

The great hall is decorated with countless flowers and candles, giving the ancient walls a soft glow. Through the tall glass ceiling, stars are shining in the clear night sky, the perfect weather for a wedding.

It must be Jaskier’s idea, to be handfasted at midnight, to have his guests slow-dance under the moon and the stars until dawn breaks. Their new life will begin when the candles burn out and the first ray of light spills into the room.

If only there’s a competition for the biggest romantic on the continent. Jaskier could win without breaking a sweat.

The room is being filled up with guests—mostly bards and professors, old schoolmates of the two grooms. After all, both Valdo and Jaskier are Oxenfurt’s children, which means everyone is dressed in the most colorful clothes one could imagine. In another word, the room is being filled up with Jaskiers, and it’s getting loud.

It’s more difficult to locate the bard himself through the din of the room, but Geralt hears him, unmistakably. Jaskier’s heartbeat approaches the Observatory, thrumming with nervousness.

No more nervous than Geralt.

He breathes in, and exits the room in a few strides. And there Jaskier is, surrounded by pale moonlight, with jasmine flowers braided into his hair and pure joy painted across his cheeks. He seems to be murmuring a private joke to Essi, and they both burst into strings of giggles.

Geralt almost backs out.

“Geralt!” Jaskier notices him. “You came! I was worried for a moment.”

“Of course.” Geralt gestures to the outfit he helped pick out. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. Now, Poppet, can you give us a few moments?” Jaskier sends Essi inside with the sweetest smile. She shoulders past Geralt a little too curtly. There’s always an air of wariness whenever Essi regards Geralt, an untrusting side-eye here and there.

“Don’t mind her.” Jaskier waves when they are left alone. “Little Eye is a tad too protective. She’ll get over it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt swallows hard. “Can we find somewhere more private? I want to talk to you.”

Jaskier blinks, but leads them away anyway until they are by the side of the road, the celebrating crowd and the orange glow of candlelight in the distance.

“Here to make sure I end up someone else’s problem, aren’t you? Don’t worry, in about half an hour, I will be legally required to only bother Valdo for the rest of eternity.” Jaskier nudges Geralt in the shoulder, a jasmine slipping by his ear.

Geralt rights it without thinking, his fingers trembling.

Gods, he can’t say it. He can’t. Jaskier is so happy and Geralt will only ruin their friendship. His second chance is too precious to be risked—

“No, actually,” Geralt heaves out a breath, his heart pounding. “The opposite."

Jaskier snorts, “And, my dear witcher, what is the opposite?”

Here it goes.

“I am in love with you.”

The words sink into the silence. Geralt’s world narrows down to the steady rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest and the little hitch in his breathing. In the darkness of the night, Jaskier’s eyes stay in the shadows, his emotions obscured.

“No, you are not.” When he finally answers, it comes out in a snort. “Ha! A good one, Geralt! And they say witchers don’t have a sense of humor, idiots!”

Jaskier lets out another dry laugh, although the waver in his voice betrays everything.

“I am,” Geralt stresses again, “in love with you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier is staring, the upturn of his lips freezing into shock, the rise and fall of his chest picking up into a frenzy and suddenly he’s breathing too fast. “You can’t. You just can’t…” Air seems to trap in his lungs and a salty tang of tears hits Geralt full-force.

“I wish I couldn’t love, like what they say, but Jaskier, I can and I do—”

“You can’t do this to me!” Jaskier shouts, crying openly. “No, no! You don’t get to tell me this now! We had twenty years…”

Geralt wants more than anything in the world to pull Jaskier into his arms and wipe away the tears, but the space between them is too great. “I didn’t know for twenty years, Jask. Forgive me. It was only after the mountain that I learned how important you were to me. I couldn’t go on like this—”

“The mountain?” Jaskier chokes out a whimper. “You realized after the mountain? You mean when I bared my heart to you and you stomped on it like it was nothing?”

Geralt shakes his head, the guilt constricting his chest. “I’m sorry. For all the pain I caused you.”

“For months I thought I was but a mistake to you, that you hated me for two decades and couldn’t wait to cast me aside like dirt stuck on your shoes. Do you even know… Geralt, do you have an ounce of idea what I went through?”

Jaskier sways and Geralt catches him in his arms, placing his head on his shoulders and feeling the uncontrollable shakes running down Jaskier’s spine. The sight of Jaskier hurt because of him, again, pains Geralt more than any monster’s claws or talons.

“I love you, Jaskier,” he vows. “You were never nothing to me. You are everything. I was an idiot. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier struggles and swats at his shoulders and Geralt takes it all the while murmuring more sweet nothings into his ear. Finally, when Jaskier calms down, it’s with another whimper. “You are an idiot.”

“I am.” Geralt cradles the nape of Jaskier’s neck, running his thumb in circles, soothing the last of the trembling away. “Just one word from you, Jask, I can take you away. You don’t have to marry him. Just give me the word and I’m yours. Gods, I’ve waited for so long for this day. At last, I’m sure of my heart, just as I’m sure of yours.”

He buries into Jaskier’s hair and inhales the grief and the flowers, and something that is distinctly Jaskier, expecting a whispered plea. Just one word from Jaskier and they can start their new life together.

What he doesn’t expect is the way Jaskier goes stiff in his arms and the hand that pushes him away.

The soft moonlight catches a glint in Jaskier’s eyes, and it speaks of determination. “Valdo,” he says, as if in a dream.

“You don’t have to marry him. We can lea—”

“Valdo will be here soon.” Jaskier sniffles and wipes at his tears frantically. His whole face is puffy from crying and there’s no way he can hide it. “It’s almost midnight.”

Geralt’s world comes to a stop.

“What?”

“Get inside, and don’t say anything about this.”

“I don’t understand. Jask, you don’t need to go through this anymore. I’ll give you anything you ask. Just say the words, please,” he begs for the first time in a century, catching Jaskier’s hand.

“I am saying it. Get inside. Sit in the back row and don’t speak to me. Valdo might be able to tell.” With a few deep breaths, Jaskier school his features back to neutral. “Only the gods know how he can read me like an open book.”

Geralt’s blood runs cold. “Do you love him?”

The anguish by the corner of Jaskier’s lips says everything. It remains as he smiles a crooked smile. “He loves me. Oh, Geralt, he loves me. I can’t hurt him like this.”

“I thought,” Geralt looks down in shame. “I thought I knew your heart.”

“I thought I did too.”

“Then why?”

“You weren’t there,” Jaskier shrugs like it’s the easiest explanation. “He was.”

Despite every cell in Geralt’s body screaming against it, he nods and lets go of Jaskier’s hand, allowing his limp fingers to slip from his grasp at last.

Jaskier has asked it of him after all.

He doesn’t know how he got back into the crowd, the warm light only a blur in his vision. Another group is stopping near the hall, among them is the other groom-to-be. Valdo’s worried voice when he sees Jaskier is another blow to Geralt’s chest.

“Oh, Julian, are you crying?”

“Just…too happy.”

There’s the sound of kissing, and Geralt can’t tune it out. He laughs at himself for the masochistic tendencies, but maybe he deserves the torture.

“No more tears. Let’s get married, my love.”

The guests settle, and the music begins.

The happy couple walks towards the altar in the witness of family and friends, and Geralt watches every moment of it.

If the smile on Jaskier’s face is a bit strained as the priest ties the ribbon, no one seems to notice.

---

A big thanks to anon for the prompt! I asked for some one-word or one-sentence prompts and the next thing I knew they were connecting into a whole story.

Each chapter of this story will be based on a prompt, so send in one if you want to steer it in certain directions ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[spencers-renaissance]

Mayhem

Summary: Imagine that scene in S4E1 when Derek is driving the ambulance loaded with a bomb about to explode, except it's Spencer on the other end of the phone and they finally get their shit together. 

Tags: canon divergence, spencer is the tech analyst, death-bed love confessions, getting together, mutual pining, insecure spencer, angst with a happy ending, fluff

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

A Gift For: @habs252117 — anybody can request fics in my ask box :)

A quick recap as this follows S4E1 which is technically a follow-on from the last ep of S3:

The BAU was called to the NY field office to investigate a series of random shootings in the city, often on subways and shit. They realise that this is actually a terror cell practicing for their big attack, and as this fic starts, they believe that the shootings were all in locations they planned to bomb in order to test 911 response times. Kate Joyner is Hotch's old friend, the blonde English one from Scotland Yard and Lisa is Lisa Bartleby, the NY field office tech analyst assigned to help Penelope in the show, Spencer in the fic.

The case had been stressful enough from the beginning. Spencer doesn’t often get to join the team in the field, usually staying in his computer den back in Quantico, so he’d initially been quite excited: he’d get to spend more time with Derek, plus visit New York, which he’s always had a strange sort of affinity for, as well as see his team in action. But then he’s working with equipment that isn’t his and they slowly piece together just how complicated this terrorism ring is and things seem more… bleak rather than exciting. 

They’d all been starting to make their way back to the hotel when the news of the bombing hit the networks, and Spencer’s heart is in his mouth as he rushes back to his post, meeting Lisa Bartleby with harried nods of acknowledgement. Almost as soon as he’s settled at his desk the phone starts ringing.

“Spencer,” Rossi greets as soon as he picks up, “you’ve seen the news?”

“Yes, I— do you know where anyone is? What should I do?” he asks, feeling the panic settle on his chest, his stomach clenching in fear he doesn’t dare try and address.

“I’m here with Penelope, she’ll handle the media,” Rossi says, and Spencer realises that he can hear her low, steady voice she always employs in moments of extreme stress in the background of the call. “I need you to call homeland security and direct them to every site of the recent shootings. Tell them to pour troops in. If our profile is right we’re looking at eight suicide bombers who are about to hit every one of those locations.”

“Actually, if we’re correct, there’ll be sixteen suicide bombers,” Spencer realises with a start. “We predicted they’ll hit the second wave of first responders, too.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the news reporting that the bomb was inside a black SUV near the Federal Plaza and Spencer is pretty sure his entire body stops for a moment: cells stop replicating, blood stops flowing, hair and nails stop growing. This is his family. And he doesn’t know where any of them are, spread across an unfamiliar, dangerous city.

“Right, Spencer, do you have eyes on the Plaza?” Rossi asks, controlled urgency colouring his voice as he tries to keep himself and everyone else as calm as possible.

“Uh— yes, I’ve got like three hundred cameras there,” he says, glancing at Lisa, the NY field office’s contribution to his technological complex, as they jump into action, “give me a minute.”

“I’m here with Penelope, but I don’t know where anyone else is,” Rossi says, and for the first time Spencer can hear the panic rising in his voice. It’s quickly suppressed, but it’s there, and it does nothing to help him calm down. “Find them.”

He instructs Lisa to find every camera feed 20 blocks out concentrically from 26 Federal Plaza before fiddling with his headset, taking a deep breath, and, naturally, trying Derek first. His name has been circling round Spencer’s head like a prayer ever since they heard that it was potentially one of their own hit by the bomb, and the knot in his chest starts to unravel when he picks up the phone.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” Derek says, sounding impatient and stressed, but Spencer doesn’t mind. He’s alive. He’s okay. 

“Thank God,” Spencer breathes. He keeps him on the line while he tries Emily, who sounds just as anxious when she picks up. He doesn’t mind though, he’s keeping a tally of everyone he knows is safe and it’s the only thing making him any less panicked. When JJ doesn’t pick up, the knot tightens a little and he tries to ignore the little string of ‘no no no’s dancing through his mind. 

He hears Emily’s distressed exhale and closes his eyes for a second before forcing himself to get his head back in the game. The phone goes dead mid-JJ’s voicemail message, and then Emily drops off the call, Derek following, and that’s it. He’s lost contact with his team, JJ and Hotch still unaccounted for. Before he can actually lose his head, Lisa is calling him over, and he finally has eyes on the bombing. 

He has to watch the man he sees as a father projected through the air by the blast from the bomb, and all he can hear for a solid five seconds is the fear buzzing in the static electricity around his ear. 

⭐️

Derek arrives at the site of the explosion riled up in a way he hasn’t been for a long time, his only consolation being that he knows Spencer is safe. God, you can definitely count on working a terrorist attack in New York City to accentuate your crippling crush on a coworker; a subtle burn has settled itself across Derek’s chest, the urge to hold and protect Spencer far too distracting for the circumstances. 

He reports immediately to Captain Warner but before he’s even able to identify himself, he hears Hotch shouting desperately for help and he slips immediately into rescue mode. 

“Hey! This area’s restricted,” an ESU shouts at him, as soon as he dashes for the barrier, and he forces the blinding anger flaring in his stomach to simmer down as he turns to the Captain again. 

“That’s my boss down there,” he shouts, making himself as intimidating as possible. 

“I have my orders,” the Captain replies simply, eyes hard and unrelenting. 

“I don’t give a damn what your orders are.” He’s finding it increasingly hard to restrain his anger as he hears Hotch shout again, turning to look hopelessly down the road at him. 

“Look, I get it agent,” Warner attempts to placate him, “but we’ve been told by you that responders are the targets. So until the blast site is cleared, no-one goes in.”

Derek spins around to face him again. “You’re Marine Corps, right?” By the look on Warner’s face, he’s found his way in. “Right?”

“Please, go back to the marshaling point,” he replies, the fight draining out of him. 

“I’m not doing it,” Derek yells stubbornly, furiously. “I’m not just gonna let my man lay down there like that.” Conveniently, Hotch’s miserable call comes down the road again and Derek meets the Captain’s eyes with a hard gaze. “Never leave a man behind. You do remember that, don’t you?”

“Help us!” Hotch screams again. “We’re here! Please!”

Derek glares at the Captain, and sprints as fast as he can towards Hotch as soon as he nods his okay. His boss is clearly disoriented and in a state of obvious distress but he doesn’t look terribly injured. Kate, on the other hand, is clearly a different story, and any hope Derek has for her survival melts away as Hotch explains her arterial bleed and he has to tell him that they can’t expect an ambulance any time soon. He tries to tell the kid crouching down by Kate to leave, but he seems reluctant. 

Derek doesn’t have the headspace to analyse why until he’s finally got him to run off and Spencer’s ringing him to tell him that he’s the bomber. 

⭐️

As soon as Spencer hears Derek run off after the bomber he feels his stress levels rising again. If Derek dies before Spencer finally works up the courage to tell him that he’s in love with him, he’ll never forgive himself for being such a coward, and he’ll never forgive Derek for leaving him. 

Immediately, he patches into the marshaling point and tells the rest of them, who have only just all reunited, what’s going on. 

“The bomb,” he explains, talking as fast as he can, “it was under Kate’s SUV. Hotch is out there with her, he seems okay but Kate is really hurt; they haven’t been able to move her.”

“Where was her SUV parked?” Rossi asks as they all gather around the computer.

“Two blocks east of Federal Plaza.”

“Two blocks east and they target Kate’s SUV?” He sounds incredulous. “Have you identified the bomber?”

“Lisa’s running him through VICAP,” he says, but shrugs hopelessly. He knows it’s a lost cause.

“Call Homeland Security,” Rossi instructs Penelope. “They should be at all the murder sites. See if they found anything.” She nods and stalks away on her heels, still managing to stay cool under pressure. Spencer would envy her, but he knows it’s only an external front, only a mask she has to wear out of complete and utter necessity.

“Okay, okay, but Morgan,” Spencer says, feeling more impatient and stressed than before, “he’s run after the bomber.”

“He’s run after the bomber?” JJ asks, bewildered. “Why?”

“He was at the bomb site,” he replies. “I’m trying to trace him on the city's CCTV network, but the feeds are grainy at best and completely severed at worst.” This is feeling more and more hopeless by the second, and the light at the end of the tunnel is only dimming. 

“Keep trying,” Rossi says, and then he’s turning to the rest of the team. 

Spencer takes a few calming breaths and focuses back on the computer in front of him. Find Derek, he thinks. Find Derek and, when this case is over, stop being a coward and tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are. The pool of dread and fear weighing his stomach down only seems to deepen as he searches relentlessly through the CCTV feeds he can access, looking for Derek and the bomber chasing through the streets of the city. Eventually, he finds him and follows his movements down to the subway station. He watches with baited breath as Derek looks around the empty platform, clearly shouting to the unsub, though Spencer can’t hear what he’s saying. He speeds up the feed, seeing as it’s delayed slightly and fast forwards to Derek entering the tunnel, his sense of dread only intensifying as he loses visual. 

Trying desperately not to panic, he fast-forwards until he’s watching in real time, but Derek still hasn’t emerged, and neither has the bomber, both still hiding in the secrecy of the depths of the city’s transport network. There’s a vague spark of light — which he later finds out was the bomber electrocuting himself on an exposed part of the railway — only barely visible on the poor quality of the camera feed, before Derek emerges, looking rattled but very much alive. 

He doesn’t have much time to celebrate Derek’s livelihood, however, because JJ and Penelope are patching him back through to their conversation. 

“Spencer, Homeland Security has poured tactical teams into all the locations on the geo-profile — SWAT, bomb techs, HRT, hazmat, the works — they found nothing,” Penelope says, clearly puzzled and frustrated.

JJ’s about to reply when something catches her eye. “Yeah, all except one,” she says. “Kate’s SUV — none of the shootings were near it.”

“Maybe it’s personal,” Penelope muses. “I mean, this death card they gave us; they delivered on it.”

“No,” Spencer jumps in, realising what JJ’s getting at, “that’s just it — they haven’t. A cell as large as this one and multiple targets to choose from, they target a single SUV?”

“It’s a diversion,” JJ says, “Everything that’s happened so far has appeared to be something it’s not. The seemingly random acts of violence, Emily’s suicide by cop to make us believe it’s all over. Hotch and Kate as an endgame; they want us to think this is over. They’ve deliberately skewed our profile to make us believe they would be at the sites of the shooting.”

“You’re right. That was memorable” Rossi says, finally chiming in as he gestures to a picture of the twin towers on the wall. “This is not. There’s something else.”

⭐️

As soon as Derek manages to calm Hotch down, he summons the rest of the team to St Barclay’s and for the first time since the bomb went off under Kate’s SUV, the team is back together again.

“Are you okay?” Emily asks Hotch as soon as the team walks into the hospital. He’s scratched and bruised all over, visibly shaken, and clearly in a lot of pain but, Hotch being Hotch, he’s stubbornly refusing to accept the necessary medical attention and probably just wants to see the back of this whole ordeal, not unlike the rest of them. 

“I’m fine,” he says, clearly not fine at all but shouldering his jacket on anyway. “I just want to understand why I’m still alive. Did you identify Sam, the bomber?”

“Spencer put Sam and the other dead unsub into every known database,” Penelope offers. “Nothing.” At the mention of Spencer, Derek feels his heart clench in his chest. God, Spencer’s intelligence is so attractive to him, even though he knows it’s something his pretty boy can be so unreasonably insecure about it. He can’t wait to see the end of this night and touch him, reassure his aching, restless heart that he’s safe, alive, protected. 

Once again, he thinks cynically, nothing like a terrorist attack to leave him on the brink of finally telling Spencer how he feels. 

They quickly get back on topic, deducing as a team the terror cell’s real endgame: they’ll use a single chemical bomb planted in the ambulance. If Sam wasn’t calling 911 every few minutes but a number that went dead minutes after he died, then there’s only one reason he stayed with Hotch and Kate. To make sure the ambulance got to them. The ambulance they drove into a hospital, with the paramedic’s help, housing someone important enough to have the Secret Service protecting them. 

Derek doesn’t think. He runs. 

“Spencer?” he says, into his ear piece as he runs down the stairs, refusing to let fear come to the surface. “I need you to jam the frequencies in this cell block for as long as possible, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Spencer asks, clearly concerned, but Derek can hear him already tapping away at his computer.

“Just,” Derek pauses, takes a second to feel, process, and then suppress his panic, “just… I need you to do this for me, alright, pretty boy.”

“I’m already on it.” Spencer sounds exactly he does: carefully, artificially calm. He runs down the last few flights of stairs and into the parking garage, locating the ambulance before he hears Spencer again. “Morgan?” 

“Yeah, baby,” he says, panting half from the exertion of sprinting down far too many flights of stairs and partly from the pressure of the situation settling on his chest — the stakes actually registering for the first time. 

“You sound stressed,” Spencer says, deliberate and light. “Where are you?”

“Not where I want to be right now,” Derek replies, a little self-deprecatingly. Really, it’s just deflection; a last ditch attempt at avoidance of the likelihood he dies tonight. “Reid, take this down for me: FDNY 108.”

“That’s an ambulance, are you okay?” His voice is quick and rises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just track it for me.” Tentatively, he opens the door to the ambulance, heart sinking and blood pressure rising as soon as he clocks the monumental bomb stowed neatly in the trunk of the seat. “Reid, how long can you keep jamming the cell block?” He knows he’s sounding breathless now and he knows Spencer is probably panicking, unable to know what’s going on but clearly reading enough of the situation to understand that asking would be decidedly unhelpful right now. 

“Uh, maximum of a few minutes, Morgan,” Spencer replies. “Why?”

“I’m going to have to get this ambulance out of here.” This is it. The culmination. 

“Or you could just evacuate the building like everyone else,” Spencer says urgently, sounding outraged at the idea. 

Derek cringes at the disapproval, but he doesn't have a choice. “No, as soon as the airwaves are clear, this thing’s going up.”

“Going up?” Spencer doesn’t bother concealing the outright panic in his voice anymore. “That’s like… in three minutes, that’s when the satellite moves position.”

“Reid, listen to me,” Derek says, climbing into the cab of the ambulance and beginning to fiddle with the wiring. “I need you to find me an area of town I can drive this thing, and you tell everybody, you hear me, everybody that I’m coming.” He finally gets the engine to start and begins to drive out of the garage. “Alright. Talk to me, Reid.” He prays desperately that they get this right, that Spencer helps him, that they manage to subvert this terrorist attack. 

“Okay,” Spencer says, back to his measured, calm tone of voice, and Derek sighs in relief at the sound. “Okay, head north… and floor it. I’ll tell you where to turn.” He’s almost out of the garage when the ‘paramedic’ starts shooting at the back of the ambulance, screaming in rage as Derek manages to escape both van and bomb unscathed. “What was that?”

“It was nothing,” Derek shouts, heart pounding in his ears as he turns the sirens and lights on, stepping on the gas as he heads north, “it was nothing. Just… talk to me. How am I doing, Reid?”

Derek hears Spencer ask Lisa for an update before exhaling hard. “1 minute, 50 seconds,” he replies, despair spilling into his voice. “Why does it always have to be you? Why do you always have to do this?” His stomach clenches at the sound of Spencer on the edge of tears and feels himself tearing up in response, swallowing his grief in lieu of actually replying. “Derek, you don’t have much time. Please be smart about this. Signal’s coming back on line, there’s thirty seconds until full coverage.”

Derek’s never driven so fast, his hands pinching at the steering wheel and every muscle tensed. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that there’s a bomb only a metre behind him, set to explode in less than half a minute.

“Derek, drive to the opening and then get the hell out,” Spencer says, no constraint to his emotion at this point, he’s almost shouting down the phone, very clearly crying, now. 

He swallows. He has no choice; he has to tell him. “Spencer,” he says, nearly choked off by a sob, “there’s something I really want you to know.”

“Save it,” Spencer shouts. “Just get out!”

“No, you know what Reid? If I don’t make it out of this alive, I need you to know that I love you, alright?” he says, finally confessing to the secret he’s been holding close to his chest for so long, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s throwing himself out of the ambulance and running as fast as he can away from it, still not outrunning the blast picking him up and tossing him across the field. 

Slowly, getting back to his feet, he turns to face the fire as he catches his breath. He has no idea how he’s still alive. 

Fiddling with his earpiece, he tunes back into Spencer’s line to hear him crying on the other end. “Oh, God, Derek, I love you, too,” he sobs as soon as he hears Derek click back into the call.

“Spencer, I’ll tell you what you are to me,” he says, relief and warmth and love blooming across his chest, driving out the crippling fear and panic previously rooted there, “you’re my God-given solace. Baby, you promise me one thing… whatever happens, don’t you ever stop talking to me.”

Spencer laughs wetly, and it’s the most beautiful sound Derek’s heard so far. “I’m so mad at you, right now,” he says, but his happiness is written across every word, “I’m so angry. But… I love you, too.”

Derek laughs, too, the relief of being both alive and loved by Spencer almost euphoric as he walks away from the still blazing ambulance. He guesses he has a terror cell’s failed attack to thank for his long overdue admittance of his love for Dr Spencer Reid, and the frankly wonderful news that it’s actually reciprocated.

⭐️

Derek and Hotch arrive back at Quantico 12 hours after everyone else, having driven home instead of taking the jet with the others due to Hotch’s rather inconvenient ear trauma. That only gives Spencer more time to panic over seeing him for the first time since their deathbed love confessions; they’d spoken briefly on the phone the morning before Derek and Hotch set off, promising to talk about it in person as soon as he was home, and now he nearly was.

Penelope had made a beeline for Spencer as soon as the others had arrived and taken him out for coffee, despite their mutual exhaustion. She’d deduced the situation based on Spencer’s incredibly cryptic HELP. IT HAPPENED. text message almost immediately after the explosion, having been the only one Spencer had confided in about his feelings for Derek. No matter how much she promised him Derek felt the same, he refused to do anything about it, leaving her to watch her two favourite people pine miserably for one another, and actively choosing to remain in said misery instead of confessing and being happy. 

He now actually felt bad for her. 

“Just tell him what you want,” Penelope says over the top of her latte, croissant crumbs littering the table in between them. “You want to get married and have lots of babies with him.”

“Okay, first of all,” Spencer says, fixing her with a look, “you know that neither of those things are true. And, secondly, it’s not that simple. What if he isn’t looking for a relationship or anything? Why hasn’t he said something before now?”

To her credit, Penelope avoids slamming her head into the table in frustration despite how much he looks like she wants to. “Spencer,” Penelope says, levelling a look right back at him, “Derek thought he was about to die. And in that moment, all he felt like he needed was to be sure that you knew he loves you. How could you possibly be that in love with someone and not crave a relationship with them?”

Spencer finds it hard to argue against that. 

Derek reclines on Spencer’s sofa, comfortably surveying the organised chaos of his living room, while Spencer tries to gather the snacks and drinks as calmly as possible in the kitchen, finding it much harder to assume the seemingly unaffected air Derek pulls off so easily. He walks back to where he’s sitting, and he almost drops his only slightly wobbly tray at the blinding smile Derek sends his way. 

“Oh, pretty boy, you’re spoiling me,” he teases, sitting upright and leaning forward to survey the snacks Spencer had rushed out and bought earlier that afternoon. Naturally, he blushes immediately at the compliment and sits next to him on the sofa, grabbing a drink for something to do with his hands. 

“Well, if all it takes is some cheese puffs from Walmart to make you happy then I think this is going to be alright,” Spencer says, trying for cool, calm, and collected and hitting somewhere near nervous and frenzied instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek scoffs as he breaks off a piece of chocolate and takes a bite. “I’m here for you, not the refreshments, luxurious as they might be. I don’t remember confessing my love to snack food in the moment I thought I was going to die.” He ruffles Spencer’s hair as his face heats up even more, smiling bashfully over at him. 

“No,” Spencer agrees, feeling all warm inside, “you told me.”

Derek looks serious all of a sudden. “I did,” he nods, leaning forward to put the chocolate down on the tray so he can focus all his attention on Spencer, taking his hands in his own, “and I meant it. I’ve probably been in love with you since you joined the team, Spencer, but I realised it properly last year, and I was always too scared to say anything. I’m sorry it had to be in that moment, and I’m even more sorry that if I’d died you would have had to live with that for the rest of your life.” He pauses and looks down at his lap for a moment. “That was unforgivable.”

Spencer smiles at him, gripping Derek’s fingers a little tighter. “I’m not mad about any of that, Derek,” he says, “I’m just glad it finally happened. And so is Penelope, apparently. She’s been telling me you loved me back for years but I never believed her; I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

Derek chuckles fondly at that and brings his hand to Spencer’s cheek, brushing his fingers across the warm skin for just a moment, but Spencer can’t help but lean into his touch, eyelids fluttering half-closed as they meet in such an intimate manner. “So, pretty boy,” he says, smile warm and eyes bright, “shall we give this a go?”

Spencer looks back up at Derek and takes a second to let the moment he’d daydreamed about for so long sink in, let himself marinate in the love that Derek has for him. “Yes,” he replies. “Please.” And then Derek’s lips are on his own, his hands around his face, and the future’s never looked so bright.

taglist: @strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez @drinkingcroissants

Just a note: a lot of the dialogue was stolen directly from the episode and Derek & Spencer's conversation on the phone is almost an exact transcript; it's from my notes though so it may not be perfect. It also follows the case very closely and none of that is mine. 

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with “Irish Independent”

It was during a childhood visit to his granny’s house in Dublin’s Ballyfermot that Joshua Jackson smoked his first cigarette.

“My memories of those visits to Ballyfermot are quite sweet really,” the Dawson’s Creek actor recalls. “I was always running around with the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble. Not bad trouble, just little-kid trouble. Although, technically it’s where I smoked my first cigarette, so that in itself isn’t the sweetest memory.”

Jackson’s handsome face surges with deep laughter lines and quiet dimples at the mention of mum Fiona’s home turf. “She might prefer I’d say she was from Chapelizod”, he jokes, before proudly pinning his mum’s allegiance to “Ballyer”.

Was the young Canadian treated like a shiny, exotic object by the local kids? “I was a bit, but I became less exotic the older I got. Culturally, I was so far away from an Irish kid but in a little pack of children, everyone finds their level. It also helped that I had my own cousins, my own blood, around with us. I had that family connection so I never felt too exoticised.”

An entry on his IMDb profile suggests his late grandparents Rosemary and Patrick were opera singers in Dublin, indicating that performance runs in the genes. The actor seems unaware. “Mum tells me they used to sing to each other a lot. My grandparents lived in council housing with a little kitchen out the back, garden right outside, and they would sing to each other through the window as he was out pottering about while she was cooking.

“But he was known more as a snooker shark around Ballyfermot. And my grandmother, she was known as a sainted mother of seven.”

Having welcomed his first child, Janie, with his wife, the actor Jodie Turner-Smith, last year, it’s obvious family is paramount for 43-year-old Jackson, as he Zoom-calls from a rich hotel suite with dark wallpaper and plump cushions in the background. It stems from an evident bond with his mum, whose presence lovingly peppers our conversation. Just 16 when she left Dublin, Fiona Jackson travelled through Paris, Amsterdam and Geneva before embracing the vibrancy of London’s Swinging Sixties and ultimately making for Vancouver in her early twenties.

In an entry on her blog, she speaks of falling for “the spectacular beauty of snow-capped mountains and the Pacific Ocean” and ultimately scoring an entry-level position at a Canadian talent agency. It led to a career as a successful casting agent, working on film classics including Carnal Knowledge with Jack Nicholson and McCabe & Mrs Miller with Warren Beatty and Julie Christie.

She met and married Joshua’s father, John Carter, and the young family moved to Los Angeles. Sister Aisleagh was born shortly before John walked out on the family, leaving a profound effect.

“My father, unfortunately, was not a good father or husband and exited the scene,” the actor disclosed last year, before adding it’s something he “will never get over”.

Young infants in tow, Fiona returned to Vancouver and, having found early success in casting, helped contribute to the foundation of the burgeoning “Hollywood North” industry on the Canadian west coast.

Accompanying his mum on set, young Joshua’s interests were piqued. “She introduced me to this world and saw from a young age that I enjoyed performing in a way that kids do. She allowed me the opportunity to step into her work world, but it was also very clear that it was work.”

He appeared as an extra on MacGyver and as a child actor’s double in The Fly II, and Fiona could see her son’s talent and genuine desire to impress. So she allowed him to audition. However, permission came with strict caveats.

“I don’t think my mum would have ever put me anywhere near the entertainment industry if I didn’t have something to offer to it. And not just for myself; she’s a prideful woman and didn’t want to be embarrassed by her kid.”

Casting 1991 melodrama Crooked Hearts with ER’s Noah Wyle, Fiona gave Joshua a chance to shine. Impressing the filmmakers, the then-12-year-old secured the part, setting him not only on a path to stardom but away from the troubles of his teen years.

“My mother gave me the guard rails I needed at that time and also recognised, being a working single mum and with me a young boy, transitioning into a teenager, I needed structure in my life. I needed something that I was passionate about and had a respect for, because I was kind of a typical teenage disaster.

“I look back on those times in my life and the two parallel tracks I was running on. On the one hand, getting into all sorts of trouble and, on the other hand, my professional life, where I showed up and learned my lines and did my job in order to be respected by the adults I was around. If I hadn’t had that professional side of my life, the other side would have taken over, and Mum saw that. Who knows where I would have ended up?”

So Jackson was a full-on teen delinquent? “Yeah, I was, to a certain extent. It was relatively innocent — nobody died — but I was a teenage boy who didn’t have a father in the home, didn’t have a man to be scared of, frankly, and as a teenage boy, I think that helps. My mum had to work and she wasn’t always in the house so I learned to get into more and more trouble. I got into just enough trouble to have a good time and learn some lessons but if I hadn’t had my work life, I might have tipped over into the kind of trouble that you don’t come back from.”

Three decades in and Jackson remains one of the hardest-working, most recognisable actors in the game. Hitting pay dirt at 18 as Dawson’s Creek’s Pacey Witter — the wisecracking, teacher-bedding antithesis to James Van Der Beek’s beleaguered titular drip — the actor was a revelation: the soul and bite of a seasoned character performer in the guise of relatable poster-boy idol.

Teens swooned, so did the industry, and alongside Van Der Beek, Michelle Williams and Katie Holmes, Jackson had Hollywood at his feet.

A string of popcorn offerings followed — Cruel Intentions, Gossip, Shutter, Cursed — some quality, others derivative, with the small screen ultimately best utilising his skills. A five-season run on sci-fi series Fringe was followed by an outstanding turn on Showtime’s The Affair. Last year, he maintained a brooding presence opposite Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington in Little Fires Everywhere. And this year, he takes on arguably his darkest work yet in Dr Death.

The new miniseries is based on the non-fiction podcast of the same name, and Jackson portrays Christopher Duntsch, a former spinal surgeon who maimed 33 patients owing to gross malpractice while operating in hospitals in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas. Two of these patients lost their lives. Convicted in 2017, Duntsch is currently in prison and serving life imprisonment. He still maintains his innocence, with his defence arguing that he was merely a bad surgeon, not a criminal.

Exuding a simmering malevolence, the actor showcases Duntsch’s disturbing complexities and terrifying behaviour as a narcissist and sociopath with a keen insight. Did Jackson meet with Duntsch? “I wanted to, but that was going to be really difficult because he’s appealing his case and his lawyers would’ve advised against it. And as I got deeper into the materials and podcast, and got a better understanding of the man, I don’t think it would’ve helped because he still really believes he’s the victim of his own patients, and the lawyers and the legal system. I’m not sure asking a liar for the truth gets you any closer to the truth.”

When it came to the victims, Jackson wanted to maintain a respectful distance. “I didn’t need to drag them through those awful memories again and I’m always a little dubious about asking people to delve into the worst moments of their life just to satisfy my curiosity. The questions had already been asked thanks to the podcast.”

Dr Death came at the right time in the actor’s life. New baby daughter Janie offered a crucial respite from the intense, and often dark, six-month foray into Duntsch’s malignant psyche.

“Inhabiting Mr Duntsch was an ugly space to live in for six months. If I’d been coming home to an empty house every night, it would have been a pretty bleak existence. It was so much better to come back to a loving home. My one-year-old doesn’t give a damn what I was doing that day. She just wants to be loved and hugged and cuddled, and it was the perfect antidote when some days were particularly heavy.”

Recently Jackson confessed that the Dawson’s Creek cast won’t be returning for a retrospective reunion like the Friends stars did earlier this year. “If you put our mid-forties selves together on a couch now, with our creaking backs, it might shock people.”

Quizzed on an actual reboot of the drama, Joshua reckons he’s simply too old to replicate the iconic rapid exchanges of dialogue between the garrulous young characters. “We were like The West Wing for teenagers,” he laughs, referencing Aaron Sorkin’s hit political TV series, also infamous for speedy script delivery. “My 43-year-old brain couldn’t do a show at that pace. Back then, we were doing seven, 10 pages a day and, to deliver dialogue at that speed, you have to have a certain mental capacity for that, and I don’t have it anymore. That’s the real reason why we’re not doing a reunion — I’ve become too dumb to keep up with that script.”

He remains in touch with his DC co-stars, including Holmes, his one-time girlfriend of two years. There’s even a text chain. “It goes through spurts every once in a while. I’ll have a bunch of messages on it and then it’ll go dormant. We’re like college friends — there are moments we’re all in contact and then long, fallow periods as we get on with our lives.”

While maintaining a busy slate, Jackson’s overwhelming purpose continues to circle the women in his life. Turner-Smith is currently shooting a new movie with Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig, so he’s assuming full-time dad duties. It’s an equitable arrangement given the flexible needs of their individual commitments, and one he appears content with.

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Dukexiety on Halloween?

Ooh, this sounds cool!

Dukexiety, Halloween

TW: Death, blood, at least one demon

-Let’s start off with the assumption that ghosts can cross to our world on Halloween. 

-Enter Virgil and Remus, two young ghosts looking to have some fun.

-A little background information: Virgil was murdered in an unsolved case thirty years ago, and no one knows how Remus died because he has a gorier story every time. They do know that there was a fair amount of blood.

-They’re dating, but a relatively new couple (still, Remus has like 3,573 nicknames for Virgil). 

-More background information: Halloween is the time when ghosts can cross over to the land of the living, but it’s not the “ghosts and ghouls running wild” that it used to be in the old times. 

There are rules and regulations! Tickets to be purchased, tour groups to join, and gift shops to be set up in the graveyards! I went to the land of the living, and all I got was this lousy engraved lamp.

-Remy is a tour guide. He’s also a demon. He’s also 100% done with the tourism business. His job is to make sure the spirits of the dead stick to their approved areas.

-Remus and Virgil are determined to not stick to their approved areas. Halloween only comes once a year, and it’s their first time haunting the world as a couple! Virgil’s weirdly insistent on not staying with the group. But they’ve been planning for this. They execute their master plan (which also contained a fair amount of blood) and escape from the tour group into the evening.

-Now we have a main plot of Remus and Virgil haunting this small town, and a subplot of Remy trying to Stop Them.

-The couple decides to go make a haunted house more...correctly advertised. 

-The haunted house, by the way, is run by the resident troupe of theater kids, led by Roman and Janus. It’s very low budget, but everyone’s trying their best.

-Virgil clouds several rooms in darkness and lets his eyes glow from the corners. Remus tears off his own arms and waves them around. Stuff like that.

-The theater kids are all really freaked out because they’re in charge of the acts and this was not on the list. They’re all ready to abandon the project, when Janus points something out: This is AMAZING for business! The buzz of satisfied customers is spreading down the hills, attracting more people!

Finally, finally, THE DRAMA DEPARTMENT WILL GET FUNDING!!!

-However, Virgil and Remus have gotten a little bored and are ready to move onto the next thing. So off they go, laughing and still trying to reattach Remus’s arms. It’s Virgil’s turn to choose what to do, and one of the things he missed the most about being alive was going to the movies.

-The drive-in is showing Beetlejuice that night, so they go to that. 

-Logan runs the local drive-in movie theater. He can see ghosts, and he’s made some payoffs to the demonic higher ups to keep the spirits of the dead out of his business.

-But Virgil and Remus are just teenagers, and they’re being total dorks, and they’re doing that thing where you rest your hand close to the other person and the ever so slowly take it....god, it’s adorable. So, Logan turns a blind eye to it and continues making popcorn, resolving to only kick them out if the bloody one starts making a mess.

-Meanwhile, the theater kids realize that their ghosts are gone, and business is starting to decline again. Janus decides desperate times, desperate measures, and starts summoning.

Roman: Do we really need to make a Faustian bargain to get funding?

Janus: In this economy? Yeah.

-Remy had been hot on the trail of the duo, and almost caught them before they got into the drive-in. However, he feels his form being yanked across town like a worm on a string. He’s been summoned by the theater kids. 

-He doesn’t even stop to bargain because this night has been LONG and he needs COFFEE. He just kind of possesses Janus and runs back towards the drive-in.

-It’s towards the end of the movie when Remy gets back, and Virgil’s head is on Remus’s shoulder at this point. Remy’s about to catch them when Logan spots him.

-Logan doesn’t want the spirits of the dead in his drive-in. He paid to have the spirits of the dead not be in his drive-in. There is not going to be a demon in his fucking drive-in.

-He grabs some popcorn salt and smiles. There won’t be one for long.

-Fight scene! In one corner, we have “Remy without his morning caffeine”! He is full of spite! In another, we have Logan! He has worked concessions long enough to know which foods have high salt levels!

-The fight ends in a stalemate when Remy notices that the sounds of “Jump In The Line” have long faded, the credits are over, and the boys have escaped to god knows where else.

He is so fired.

-For the next thing, Remus wants to go classic and haunt a house. A house of someone sweet and a little lonely preferably.

-Patton has just finished giving out candy to the little trick-or-treaters. His house is semi-famous to Halloween candy seekers for the wonderful snacks! He closes the door and decides he’s going to go read something nice.

-Before the duo go in to scare Patton, Remus notices that Virgil seems nervous. He asks him what’s wrong, and Virgil eventually admits that he heard through the underworld grapevine that his little sister, now in her thirties, just had a kid. He really wants to get a glimpse of his niece, but he’s worried that something will go wrong or something will prevent him from getting there or-

He’s just kind of freaked out.

-They go in to scare Patton. Virgil peers with glowing eyes from corners while Remus rattles the furniture. Patton barely reacts.

-Here’s the thing about sweet and a little lonely people: a good deal of them own a lot of cats. 

-Patton is immune to eyes in the dark, loud bumps in the night, far away screams, scratches on the walls, blood stains on the carpet, heads rolling across the floors, cold spots, the fireplace suddenly roaring to life, and levitating figures (he has some weird cats).

-Remus and Virgil try more and more ridiculous things to get Patton to pay attention to them, until they’re both (figuratively) dying of laughter.

-MEANWHILE Roman arrives at the drive-in on the verge of tears. He knows that Janus was headed vaguely in this direction. He also knows that Janus is possessed oh god no this wasn’t how this night was supposed to go. Logan finds this teenager wandering around and panicking, and asks him what’s wrong. Roman tells him that that his friend (who he totally doesn’t have feelings for) is possessed and has he seen him?

-Logan has, indeed seen a possessed teenager with a ridiculous bowler hat. He just emptied popcorn salt on his head. Lo agrees to help Roman search and possibly exorcise.

-Back at the house, Virgil is literally levitating Patton and he isn’t noticing. After all, you can never know when you’re being haunted when you have cats as weird as his.

-The doorbell rings. Patton opens it, not noticing the drop to the floor, and expecting a trick-or-treater up far too late. He was not expecting a sixteen year old in a bowler hat and sunglasses to barge past him, empty a bag of coffee grounds into his mouth, and start yelling at thin air that it almost got him fired.

-Remus and Virgil say something along the lines of, “Oh shit, Remy” and run. But Remy contains coffee now, and nothing will stop him.

-They realize that they won’t be able to both escape. Remus lets himself be caught so Virgil can escape and see his sister and niece. 

-Virgil’s sister is at a Halloween celebration in the world famous corn maze. Yes, this town has a world famous corn maze. Virgil searches the maze, still equal measures worried for and in love with his boyfriend. 

-Remy (still possessing Janus) isn’t that far behind him, but he’s slowed down immensely by Remus’s superpower: being the worst travel companion ever when he wants to be. Remy oh so desperately wishes he could kill dead people and that this night was over.

-Roman and Logan track Remus and Virgil because if you can see ghosts, it’s really easy to know where Remus is, due to the near constant trail of blood. They ask some questions to Patton, who still blames everything on his cats, then keep following the trail towards the corn maze.

-Virgil eventually finds the center of the maze. And there’s his kid sister, who isn’t a kid anymore. He wonders if she kept up playing piano and who she married and what her life was like after he left it. And the baby! It’s like a loaf of bread with eyes!!!

-Virgil’s calm, for once. He starts to move toward the exit, when he bumps into Remy (Remus is clinging to Remy’s leg and lying on the ground to try and slow him down. It isn’t helping much, but it helps a little). He sprints in the opposite direction.

-Virgil’s chased by Remy, who’s chased by Roman and Logan, and they’re all very, very lost in this world famous corn maze.

-Remus is continually yelling at Remy, who tries to explain that he’ll lose his job if he doesn’t do this. Remus’s pleas are kind of effective, however, and Remy is starting to feel like a terrible person demon. 

-Virgil reaches a dead end in the maze. All parties round the corner and stand in the same dead end (except Patton, who’s at home reading his book).

-An exorcism is attempted. The exorcism fails because Remus’s blood trail ruins the salt circle.

-The exorcism gives Virgil the time to climb up a corn stalk and begin running across the corn.

-Once the exorcism fails, Roman is desperate. He takes Janus’s hands and confesses everything, asking him to come back.

-It works! Whether that’s because of the power of love or the demon feeling socially awkward is anyone’s guess.

-Remus also escapes, scales the corn, and runs across the stalks. Virgil and Remus run like the wind across a world famous corn maze.

-Remy considers catching them. He probably still could. But...he can probably think of some excuse to not get fired. Or something. He’ll think of something, and lets the boys get away.

-Virgil and Remus, grinning from adrenaline and an amazing night, walk back toward the graveyard together, hand in hand as the sun comes up and drives away the shadows.

Thanks for the prompt!

I might end up changing that names and making this an original thing one day

This was really fun to write!!!

[zi-i-think]

1 | Just Chill Out

Pairing: Zuko x Ama (OC)

Word Count: 5400+

.☽☼☾.

          Ama was the kinda girl that fought hard. Her persistence is what made her a great waterbender. She and Katara were both very competitive and dueled together for practice. And while it was often a close tie, it didn't change the fact that Ama was older by two years and usually won.

         Usually, Ama styled her hair with a half ponytail and the hair by her ears was tied. Her kimono-like tunic was a light blue and sleeveless. Her loose pants were a darker shade of blue, ending at her shin to make room for her dark brown warm shoes. Lastly, her forearms and her palms were wrapped with white cloth.

         Through their adventures with the Avatar, the Water Tribe siblings learned and grew both together and individually. Sokka and Ama were more similar in their humor, taking it from their dad. Katara and Ama were similar in many ways, but not when it came to who was more stubborn. Katara held the most grudges. It was why it was harder to accept her mother's death.

         So when Zuko arrived, Ama was quick to try to give him another chance after the night in Ba Sing Se. He was the only person that was actually her age and the two were quick to get along. Especially after he helped Ama and Sokka rescue their dad from the Boiling Rock Prison. So after Katara and Zuko went on their little field trip to avenge their mother and came back actually tolerating each other, Ama felt more at ease.

         The 16 year old girl didn't acknowledge her little crush on the firebender. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach when he sat next to her and the way they would touch while they were sparring with each other. After all, the last time she had a crush on someone, it ended in a less than ideal way.

         "He's just a friend." She would tell herself while they rested after sparing.

         This leads to the present. Team Avatar stayed at one of Fire Lord Ozai's houses on Ember Island. Aang and Zuko practiced their firebending in the courtyard. Toph laid on the ground while Katara and Ama watched the boys. Ama would never admit it, but she couldn't take her eyes off the fire prince. And him being shirtless didn't help.

         Considering they were in the Fire Nation, Ama's clothes consisted of a red, sleeveless crop top and loose pants that ended at the calf of her leg. Her shoes were simple black flats that she had to tie round her ankle with a string. The only difference in her hair was that her half ponytail was a half bun and her hair wasn't tied at the front.

         "Doesn't it seem kinda weird that we're hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?" Katara wondered, looking around the courtyard as the boy's finished their bending.

         "I told you, my father hasn't come here since our family was actually happy." Zuko responded by the fountain and wiped his hair with a yellow towel. "And that was a long time ago. This is the last place anyone would think to look for us."

         "You guys are not going to believe this." Sokka announced, jogging towards them with Suki following behind. "There's a play about us."

         "We were just in town and we found this poster." Suki said and Sokka unrolled the poster in his hand. The poster showed Aang in the middle with Sokka, Katara and Ama behind him. In the background there was a close up of Zuko's eyes, except his scar was on the wrong side. Then there was the information written and playwright.

         "What? How is that possible?" Katara asked, everyone crowded around to look at the poster.

         "Listen to this." Sokka began to read the poster. "The Boy in the Iceberg is a new production from acclaimed playwright Pu On Tim who scoured the globe gathering information on the Avatar from the icy South Pole to the heart of Ba Sing Se. His sources including singing nomads, pirates, prisoners of war and a surprisingly knowledgeable merchant of cabbage."

         "Brought to you by the critically acclaimed Ember Island Players." Suki finished.

         "Ugh." Zuko had a disgusted look on his face, already opposing to the idea. "My Mother used to take us to see them. They butchered "Love Amongst The Dragons" every year."

v"Sokka, do you really think it's a good idea for us to attend a play about ourselves?" Katara already considered how bad the idea was.

         "Come on, a day at the theatre? This is the kind of wacky time wasting nonsense I've been missing." Begged Sokka with a huge grin.

         "I'd actually like to see it." Ama took the scroll from her brother's hand and examined the actress playing her. It wasn't that accurate. The actress was too pale and had too much makeup on. Plus the clothing was a more sexualized, the tunic being a little too low cut. "Might be fun to see how we're portrayed."

.☽☼☾.

         That night, the Gaang headed to the theatre. They sat in a private viewing box on the second floor facing the stage. Toph and Katara and Ama took their seats in the first row while Zuko walked in the opposite direction wearing a hooded cloak and sat in the empty spot between Ama and Katara as Aang confidently tried to sit next to Katara. Aang stood up and rubbed his neck.

         "Hey, uh... I wanted to sit there." Aang sheepishly pointed at the seat.

         "Just sit next to Sokka, what's the big deal?" Zuko said a bit aggressively and he took off his hood.

         "I was just... I wanted to..." Aang couldn't get a sentence in before giving in and going to the second row. "Okay."

         "Why are we sitting in the nosebleed section? My feet can't see a thing from up here." Toph complained as the lights dimmed.

         "Don't worry, I'll tell your feet what's happening." Katara assured her.

         The curtain was drawn up to reveal a prop of a canoe surrounded by moving set decorations of water and the backdrop was a crude painting of icebergs. The Water Tribe sibling actors rowed the fake canoe with their oars.

         Ama felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked back seeing her brother point to her and back to himself rapidly. Ama chucked at his reaction to the play and then looked back at the stage.

         Katara's actress was similar to Ama's in that they both had more revealing clothes and had too much blusher on their cheeks. Actress Katara sighed deeply. "My dear siblings. We constantly roam these icy South Pole seas and yet never do we find anything fulfilling."

         "Katara, must you always be so dramatic?" Actor Ama spoke, almost lazily paddling the fake canoe. "Just chill out a bit. Like the ice around us." She made a pun so that the audience would get a laugh.

         Actor Sokka was buck-toothed and thinner than the actual Sokka and his wolf-tail ponytail was way too large. "All I want is a full feeling in my stomach, I'm starving!" The audience laughed loudly at the low-quality joke.

         The real Water Tribe siblings looked at each other in disbelief. Katara and Sokka seemed very disappointed, but Ama was making a mental note to use that pun for the future.

         "Is food the only thing on your mind?" Actress Katara asked.

         "Well, I'm trying to get it out of my mind and into my mouth. I'm starving." Actor Sokka made the same joke twice.

         "This is pathetic" Sokka whispered to Ama and Katara. "My jokes are way funnier than this."

         "I think he's got you pegged." Toph laughed.

         "Everyday, the World awaits a beacon to guide us, yet none appears." Actress Katara melodramatically spoke as Actor Sokka paddled the canoe. "Still, we cannot give up hope. For hope is all we have and we must never relinquish it. Even," She sniffed. "even to our dying breath." She pretended to cry loudly.

         "Well, that's just silly." Katara commented while Sokka and Suki snickered. "I don't sound like that."

         "Oh man, this writer's a genius." Toph giggled and clenched her stomach.

         On stage, a white-blue light illuminated and actresses Katara and Ama looked up at it in a dainty way. The iceberg prop slowly moved to the centre of the stage with a cut out of Aang swaying from side to side on a stick inside the iceberg.

         "It appears to be someone frozen in ice. Perhaps for a hundred years." Actress Katara gaped with hands on her cheeks for dramatic effect.

         "But who? Who is the boy in the iceberg?" Actor Sokka asked.

         Aang grabbed the railings in anticipation with an excited look. Zuko looks bored, resting his cheek on his hand.

         Actress Ama climbed to the top of the iceberg prop while the other two actors were still climbing up. "Waterbend, hai-ya!" Actress Ama yelled and performed a chopping motion and a crack appeared on the iceberg. It opened with the interior smoking where a lady dressed as Aang jumped out, winked and posed.

         Aang was repulsed.

         "Who are you, frozen boy?" Actress Katara asked.

         "I'm the Avatar, silly. Here to spread joy and fun." Actress Aang grinned from ear to ear.

         "Wait, is that a woman playing me?" Aang wondered with a distraught tone.

         A shaggy, white Chinese lion get-up meant to portray Appa popped out from the remnants of the iceberg and moved from side to side before it circled round the iceberg and made a gruff animal noise.

         "An airbender." Actress Katara gasped. "My heart is so full of hope that it's making me tearbend." She fell to her knees and hugged actress Aang's leg as she cried loudly.

         "My stomach is so empty that it's making me tearbend." Actor Sokka dropped to his knees and grabbed actress Aang's other leg and sobbed with Actress Katara. "I need meat."

         "But wait is that a platter of meaty dumplings?" Actress Aang pointed up.

         "Ooh. Where? Where?" Actor Sokka looked around desperately.

         "Did I mention that I'm an incurable prankster?" Actress Aang giggled uncontrollably.

         "I don't do that." Aang got irritated. The others turned around to look at him while he glared at the stage. "That's not what I'm like! And... I'm not a woman!"

         Toph thought otherwise and laughed loudly. "Oh, they nailed you, Twinkle Toes."

         Then on stage, Zuko's ship entered with actor Zuko poised near the front of the ship, looking through a telescope.

         "Prince Zuko, you must try this cake." Actor Iroh offered.

         Actor Zuko wore his Fire Nation armor with a long, exaggerated ponytail. His scar most definitely on the wrong side. "I don't have time to stuff my face. I must capture the Avatar to regain my honor!"

         "Well, while you do that, maybe I'll capture another slice." Actor Iroh stuffed his face in the cake prop.

         "You sicken me." Actor Zuko said with his raspy voice and then looked back in the telescope.

         "They make me totally stiff and humorless." Zuko crossed his arms and critiqued.

         "Maybe that's because you are stiff and humorless." Ama crossed her arms and sent him a smirk. "So, I'd say it's pretty spot on."

         "How could you say that!" Zuko got offended, but Ama just chuckled at him.

         "Let's forget about the Avatar and get massages." Actor Iroh suggested happily.

         "How could you say that?!" Actor Zuko shouted.

         Real Zuko looked defeated and slouched in his seat as Ama started to laugh at the irony of the moment. And while her eyes were closed and she wiped her tears of laughter, Zuko looked at her with a slight smile.

         The scenes were all incredibly over exaggerated. Katara hated the melodramatic portrayal of her, Sokka hated the jokes, and Ama hated how overly sympathetic but competitive they made her.

         In one scene with a pirate ship in the backdrop. The leading characters slid out from underneath a pirate's skirt as the six pirates fought and slowly moved offstage. Actress Ama clenched a large scroll.

         "Why did you have to steal that waterbending scroll?" Actor Sokka complained.

         "Because, all I want is to help with waterbending." Actress Ama responded defensively. "And I must be better than Aang." The actress sent a glare at Actress Aang and stomped off.

         Real Ama was unamused and rolled her eyes. "I'd say it's pretty stop on." Zuko whispered to her. The waterbender gaped offendedly at him, but also was amused at how he threw her comment from earlier back at her.

         In one scene, Actress Aang was tied on stage while Actor Zuko stood proudly. "The Avatar is mine!" Actor Zuko shouted then pointed to the side. "Wait, who's coming?"

         An actor wearing a large tiki Blue Spirit mask that covers his whole body stepped out with duel swords. "I am the Blue Spirit. The scourge of the Fire Nation here to save the Avatar." The actor "fought" off the Fire Nation actors.

         "My hero." Actress Aang jumped off the platform and sits on top of the tiki mask and the Blue Spirit walked offstage.

         Zuko and Aang who looked at each other with slight "sweatdrop" expressions.

         The next scene showed the Freedom Fighter's. Actress Ama and Actor Jet with a rose in his mouth and a heavily exaggerated anime-like hair were lowered into screen on a platform.

         "Oh, Jet." Actress Ama dramatically and slightly seductively said. "I know my sister likes you as well, but I'm just so much better than her."

         "I know that, baby." Actor Jet pulled the actress close to him. "And to show my love, Jet will wipe out that nasty town for you." A blue sheet of cloth representing water came across the stage and covered the village backdrop. The platform holding actress Ama and actor Jet raised to get them off the stage.

         "Oh Jet, you're so bad." Actress Ama leaned on him and had a flirtatious tone.

         Toph and Katara giggled while Ama held her head in embarrassment. Wondering when the torture would end.

         The first act of the play ended with Actress Aang in an ocean spirit costume destroying Fire Nation ships. Portraying the battle in the North Pole. The crowd cheered and hooted while the Gaang has an opposite reaction and groaned.

.☽☼☾.

         For the intermission they went outside the theatre and on a flight of red steps on a balcony. They were away from the rest of the crowd in order to speak freely.

         "So far, this intermission is the best part of the play." Zuko rightfully complained. He leaned on the stair railing beside where Ama sat.

         "Apparently, the playwright thinks I'm an idiot who tells bad jokes about meat all the time." Sokka criticized. Ironically, he was holding a bag of meat.

         "Yeah, you tell bad jokes about plenty of other topics." Suki quipped with a knowing smirk.

         "I know!" Sokka agreed, taking large bites from his strips of meat.

         "At least this Sokka actor kinda looks like you. That woman playing the Avatar doesn't resemble me at all." Aang's tone was distressed while he buried his head in his hands.

         "I don't know, you are more in touch with your feminine side than most guys." Toph teased him for a reaction from him. And Aang did growl angrily.

         "Relax, Aang." Katara spoke up. "They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving over emotional speeches about hope all the time." Everyone looked at her skeptically. "What?"

         "Yeah. That's not you at all." Aang said sarcastically.

         "Listen, friends. It's obvious that the playwright did his research." Toph spoke. "I know it must hurt but what you're seeing up there on that stage is the truth."

         "The scene with Jet is definitely not the truth." Ama said defensively, pointing to the inside.

         "You're right there." Sokka shrugged. "Cause you definitely can't flirt with guys." He chuckled knowingly and Suki elbowed him, making him stop. Ama's face turned red and avoided looking at Zuko, who indeed looked a little curious.

.☽☼☾.

         Back in the theatre for the next act, the four characters stood in the Earth Kingdom set. "Well, here we are in the Earth Kingdom." Actress Katara announced.

         "I better have a look around to see if I can find an earthbending teacher." A rope pulled Actress Aang off the ground to fly and around the theater.

         "This is it! This must be where I come in." Toph whispered excitedly.

         Actress Aang landed back on the ground. "I flew all over town but I couldn't find a single earthbending master."

         "Here it comes." Toph clenched her fist while there was a drumroll.

         On the stage as a rock prop was lifted by a well built man wearing Toph's outfit who appeared from a trap door under the prop. "You can't find an earthbending master in the sky, you have to look underground." He threw the prop rock to the side.

         The Gaang broke into laughter and Zuko drops his parchment in shock.

         "Who are you?" Actress Aang pointed at the buff actor.

         "My name is Toph because it sounds like tough." He flexed his muscles. "And that's just what I am."

         "Wait a minute," The real Toph used her pinkie to clear her ear. "I sound like... a guy. A really buff guy."

         "Well Toph, what you hear up there is the truth. It hurts, doesn't it?" Katara leaned on the earthbender with a smug look.

         "Are you kidding me?" Toph grinned from ear to ear and giggled. "I wouldn't have cast it any other way. At least it's not a flying bald lady."

         "So, you're blind?" Actress Aang waved her hand in front of Actor Toph's face.

         "I can see you doing that." The actor laughed. "I see everything that you see except that I don't see like you do. I release a sonic wave from my mouth."

         He turned towards the leading characters and screamed. Cut to actor Toph's face. The audience cringed and covered their ears. The Gaang were also cringing but Toph couldn't be happier.

         "There. I got a pretty good look at you." The actor said one he finished.

         The next scene showed actor Zuko and actor Iroh. "Zuko, it's time we had a talk." Actor Iroh pointed. "About your hair. It's gone too far." Actor Zuko's hair was very long and no longer in a ponytail.

         "Maybe it's best if we... split up." Actor Zuko dramatically turned his head and walked away. The long hair flowing behind him.

         A few scenes later, the actors stood around Actress Azula caught in a corner. "Azula! My sister. What are you doing here?" Actor Zuko pointed at the actress in heavy makeup and pink clothing.

         "You caught me. Wait. What's that?" Actress Azula pointed at the ceiling. "I think it's your honor."

         "Where?" Actor Zuko question. All seven actors turned around while Actress Azula used a secret door to escape.

         Real Ama giggled and Zuko looked over at her. Ama caught him looking and covered her left eye. "Honor." She said seriously and with a deep voice before going right back to giggling. The firebender frowned at leaned back in his seat.

         "She escaped. But how?" Actress Katara wondered when they realized she escaped.

         A few scenes later Actor Jet slashed his hook sword arm prop, wearing a pair of crazy eye glasses as the tiny black beads representing his pupils swirl around, portraying that he's insane.

         "No, Jet!" Actress Aang said. "What did they do to you?"

         "Must. Serve. Earth King!" He swung his arms chaotically. "Must... Destroy!"

         Actor Jet made various agonizing noises and acted as if he were having a fit. The rock prop slowly floated into the stage and onto the actor

         "Did Jet just... die?" Real Zuko was really confused.

         "You know, it was really unclear." Sokka responded, only half caring.

         It got to the scene where Ama and Zuko were in the cave in Ba Sing Se together. Where Azula had tricked them both.

         "I have to admit, Prince Zuko. I really find you attractive." Actress Ama spoke.

         "You don't have to make fun of me." Actor Zuko grumbled.

         "But I mean it." Actress Ama got a bit more seductive and sat next to him. "I had eyes for you since the day you first captured me."

         Real Ama and Zuko glanced at each other and blushed a deep red, sinking into their seats. Ama could hear Sokka and Aang snickering from behind them and looked back at them. The two were definitely pointing at the blushing teens.

         "I must admit." The Zuko actor spoke loudly. "I have also had eyes for you!"

         Actress Ama dramatically put her hand on her head. "Oh, but if the others would find out!"

         "They won't!" Actor Zuko pulled the actress into him. "This will be our secret." Ama sighed in relief that they didn't kiss, but just embraced each other.

         "Well, my brother. What's it going to be?" The Azula actress asked in the next scene. "Your nation or a life of treachery?"

         "Choose treachery, it's more fun." Actor Iroh drank a cup of tea and threw a thumbs up.

         "No way!" Actress Azula called when Actor Zuko walked next to the old actor.

         But then Actor Zuko shoved Actor Iroh to the floor and walked next to Azula. "I hate you, Uncle. You smell and I hate you for all time."

         Ama looked next to Zuko, who leaned on the railing. "You didn't really say that, did you?"

         "I might as well have." Zuko responded regrettably and turned away.

.☽☼☾.

         Soon the second act ended with Actress Azula "killing" actress Aang. Team Avatar hung out inside the theatre this time. Zuko kept his hood over his head, sitting on the floor and leaning on the wall. Ama made sure that Toph was between the two before sitting on the floor, still feeling embarrassed by the scene from earlier.

         "It seems like every time there's a big battle you guys barely make it out alive. I mean, you guys lose a lot." Suki commented.

         "You're one to talk, Suki. Didn't Azula take you captive? That's right, she did." Sokka shot back.

         Suki frowned and acted serious. "Are you trying to get on my bad side?"

         "I'm just saying." Sokka said matter-of-factly.

         "Does anyone know where Aang is?" Katara wondered, walking up to the small group.

         "He left to get me fire gummies like, 10 minutes ago. And I'm still waiting." Sokka said impatiently.

         "I'm going to check outside." Katara announced and walked away from them.

         "Wheeee." A little boy in an Aang costume zoomed past the five teens.

         "Suki, what are the chances you can get me backstage? I got some jokes I want to give to the actor me." Sokka asked his girlfriend.

         "I'm an elite warrior who's trained for many years in the art of stealth." Suki said seriously then gave Sokka a large grin. "I think I can get you backstage."

         "Jeez. Everyone's getting so upset about their characters." Toph commented as the couple walked away. "Even you seem more down than usual and that's saying something."

         "You don't get it. It's different for you. You get a muscle-y version of yourself taking down 10 bad guys at once and making sassy remarks." Zuko responded.

         "Yeah, that's pretty great." Toph agreed.

         "But for me, it takes all the mistakes I've made in my life and shoves them back in my face." Zuko felt ashamed of himself and turned away a bit. "My Uncle. He's always been on my side even when things were bad. He was there for me. He taught me so much and how do I repay him? With a knife in his back. It's my greatest regret and I may never get to redeem myself."

         "You have redeemed yourself to your Uncle." Toph sunk onto the floor. "You don't realize it but you already have."

         "How do you know?" Zuko asked her.

         "Because I once had a long conversation with the guy and all he would talk about was you."

         The fire prince smiled and put down his hood. "Really?"

         "Yeah, and it was kind of annoying." Toph said.

         "Oh, sorry." Zuko apologized.

         "But it was also very sweet." The young girl told him. "All your Uncle wanted was for you to find your own path and see the light. Now you're here with us. He'd be proud." Zuko smiled until Toph punched his arm

         "Ow." He rubbed his arm in pain and Ama burst out laughing. "What was that for?"

         "That's how I show affection." Toph smiled.

         "Haha, oh Toph. I love you so much." Ama leaned on the girl for some support while cracking up. Then blind girl punched her too. "Ow." It was Toph and Zuko's turn to laugh while Ama rubbed her arm.

         The little boy from earlier came running back around the corner and stopped in front of Zuko. "Your Zuko costume is pretty good but your scar's on the wrong side." He pointed at the scar and then ran off. Zuko's mouth dropped in shock and Ama burst out laughing.

         "The scar is not on the wrong side!" Zuko shouted angrily, pulling his hood over his head again.

         Ama chuckled at him. "You're adorable." She mumbled, not realizing she said it out loud.

         "Thanks, you too." Zuko mumbled back. Both teens froze completely and Toph failed at hiding her giggle. No one spoke after that. But Ama's thoughts began to race.

         Did I hear that wrong? Are my feelings not as one sided as I thought? How do I respond to that? Damn it, where's Sokka's bad jokes when I need them?

.☽☼☾.

         Spoiler. The play was terrible. Ending with actress Aang's death and Fire Lord Ozai winning the war, everyone realized that the entire show was bad all around. Once the theatre lights came on, they walked back to the house glad it was over.

         "That... wasn't a good play." Zuko broke the silence. Everyone vocally agreed with him.

         "But the effects were decent." Was the only good comment coming from Sokka.

         Before they entered the house, Ama stopped and stepped aside so the others could enter. "I think I'm gonna go on a quick walk." The waterbender pointed towards the forest with her thumb.

         "Are you sure? It's kinda late." Katara said with a worried tone.

         "Yeah, I kinda need to clear my mind and forget that terrible play." She chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck.

         "Alright, stay safe." Katara shrugged and went inside.

         Zuko stayed back, watching Ama walk down the steps and heading to the thicket of trees. He considered walking with her. He also needed to clear his head. But also wanted to talk to the water tribe girl. He took a quick glance at the inside of the house, then Ama before running after her. "Hey! Wait up!"

         The brunette stopped walking and looked back at the boy running towards her. "Uh. Can I help you?" She wondered and he stood next to her.

         "I just thought, you might like some company." Zuko responded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck while they started walking down the path again.

         "It's not what I necessarily had in mind, but I'd like that." A light smile tugged on her lips as she looked at the floor anxiously.

         The walk was pretty quiet at first. Neither of the two knew what to say. Ama looked around. Her eye's had adjusted fine to the dark path and the moon lit everything also. So she could get a good look at the flora of Ember Island.

         "Look." The girl gasped excitedly, pointing at an area that strayed a few feet from the path. She jogged over to the patch of flowers that caught her eye and Zuko followed behind curiously. "Fire lilies." He watched as she admired the patch, her fingers delicately running across the petals. "They're so pretty."

         This is my chance. Zuko thought. Gathering up his courage and ignoring the teenage boy tendency of being awkward and silent, the boy took his shot. "Almost as pretty at you." Still, he could only muster a whisper. Ama watched as he took a seat next to her and reached to snap a flower off the stem and moved to place it behind the waterbender's ear, moving some of her hair to the side.

         "Thank you." She couldn't hide her blush or the smile. Her heart was racing. The girl wondered what she should do or say in response. After all, the only "experience" with boys she had was with Jet. But even then, it was more like they just talked and he turned out to be insane.

         Then a spark of confidence was lit inside her. The girl reached for another flower. Snapping it off the stem and placing it behind Zuko's ear, just as he did to her. "You look beautiful, Prince Zuko." She grinned while he just chuckled.

         "Look, Ama. I think it's time we talked about," Zuko started. His tone was a bit timid, which was pretty out of character for him. "Well, us."

         "What about us." Ama asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

         "Look, I always thought you were really pretty. Even during those months where I was chasing you all." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the flowers. "And during that time in the Ba Sing Se caves, you showed genuine kindness and actually cared about me. I realized that you're probably the prettiest girl I've even met."

         "Not even just that, but you're so strong and independent and smart." He started to ramble a bit and Ama chuckled. "And being with you all after leaving my father and the Fire Nation, you still believed in me. Even after all those horrible things I've done. I think... I think I really like you, Ama."

         "I think I really like you too." Ama responded, fiddling with her nails. "You're one of the bravest people I know. Leaving behind your entire life. Realizing and admitting your wrong doings. I admire you so much for that. Just getting to know you more made me like you more." Ama chuckled nervously. "Just seeing you gave me butterflies."

         "Is that why you always watched Aang and I practice?" Zuko lightly laughed.

         "Well it didn't help that you're attractive." Ama laughed back.

         "So you think I'm attractive." Zuko smirked.

         "Eh, only a little." Ama shrugged and giggled at his playful glare. Then it got quiet. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence like earlier. It was more content and peaceful.

         "Can..." Zuko started to ask and Ama looked back at him after staring at the moon. "Can I kiss you?" Ama blushed, but nodded. Zuko leaned in most of the way until Ama leaded up as well. It was short and sweet. Barely lasting a second. Ama and Zuko stared into each other's eyes for a moment before leaning in again for another, still sweet but more wistful kiss.

         One of Ama's hands wound up in Zuko's dark hair and the other on his cheek. Zuko grabbed onto her waist, to pull her closer to him. Considering that the two were still sitting on the ground, the teens looked a little awkward. But the waterbender moved, not breaking the kiss to straddle him.

         Pulling away, the two smiled and stared at each other again. The girl's blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight as Zuko looked into them. Her blue eyes were like an ocean. And the prince didn't mind drowning in them. Meanwhile, Ama felt drawn to his fiery gold eyes. And she didn't mind being burned by them.

         "So, uh." Ama bit her bottom lip. Her hands moved from his hair down to his chest. "Does this mean we're together?"

         "You mean does this make me your boyfriend and you my girlfriend." Zuko clarified and Ama nodded. "I don't know if I see you that way." He said teasingly, earning a light punch on the arm. "I'm kidding. I'd like that. A lot."

         "Me too."

.☽☼☾.

Cool. I just posted the first chapter. My writing does better in first person so just hang in there. Or if you want to wait for chapter eight where there is a plot and better writing (in my opinion) that would be fine. I don’t believe you’d miss much. This is mainly to set a baseline for Ama’s placement in the Avatar Universe. 

I hope you all enjoy. Hang loose, amigos! 🤙🏼

[gogo-karasuno]

Haikyuu Self-Ship Meme

I was tagged by: @haikyuudreaming

Tagging: @samwrights @bokutokoutarou @queenktbigal @pinkieperil @iwaixiumi Sorry if I’ve tagged someone who has been tagged before.

Rules: Ship yourself with your favorite character and give headcanons on how your relationship would go.

Notes: I’m an overly complicated, dramatic bitch so there’s like some build up here. Y’all getting some character set up and my personal headcanon for various characters too. This is about being Self-Indulgent and damn am I here to Indulge.

--- ---

Tsukishima x Tadashi x Gogo: TsukkiYamaGo

- The Basic Background: I’m a first year student at Karasuno and from Kitagawa First along with Nozomi Watabe, the Girl’s Team Libero. We’ve been friends for so long we kind of function as the same person sometimes. Since we’ve also been playing volleyball for just as long it makes us Something on the court. Because we went to Kita we’ve possibly had classes with Kageyama, Kindachi, and Kunimi. My personality has things in common with Kunimi so I imagine were were friends and this brought Kindachi into my friends group. Since I’m a Setter (for the pout, perceptiveness, strategy, and tendency to enjoy pulling the string) I did totally did some pick up games with Kindachi and Kunimi because sometimes a person just wants to get a toss they can hit. Nozomi and I both knew were were walking into Something for the Karasuno Girls Team but we still made that call.

- Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and I are all in the same class first year. Because I selected the college prep course I knew I wouldn’t share classes with Nozomi but it is still a total bummer. I’m at a new school, kind of introverted, and sort of on my own in class because she’s not there. This should, in theory, make me pay attention in class but it absolutely does nothing of the sort.

- If I reached out to someone first it would be Tadashi. One of those “Introverts Unite” kinds of things because maybe we can at least Exist near each other. I was used as the person to split up talkative kids in school and here is no different.

- Tsukishima and I do that thing that cats do where they circle each other while deciding if they want to coexist or slap each other. We’re both sarcastic piles of salts so we’ve got to figure out how that is going to meld together. I’m also delightfully bitch on top of this and am always ready to throw down at a moment's notice. If anything, we probably get along too well while shittalking other people.

- Before the Saturday First Year’s Game for the Guys I find out they play volleyball. There’s some actual apologizing because wow they have the King of the Court. Between my own irritation at Kageyama for being so Kingly (Part of being the Control Tower is Communication) and hearing even more details from Kindachi and Kunimi...I’m just so unhappy. This school doesn’t have an Oikawa to carry through the year either.

- I hide behind Yams a lot in class so the teacher forgets I exist with how quiet I am. If I could change it up to sit behind Tsukishima I would. After meeting the Girl’s Team, my free, and not so free moments, become trying to figure out how to make this team workable? There has to be something to do with what we have to be better.

- A lot of our original Just Us interactions outside of school tend to involve notes and homework. Sometimes I miss things in class or I need extra explanation for math so Yamaguchi helps me. Tsukishima, having nothing better to do, tends to show up with him to snark while helping. However, I won’t study with them because I’m very much a solitary studying kind of person.

- Eventually we start hanging out more and more without homework or class as the excuse. Sometimes it is the three of us watching movies, listening to movies, or just kind of moving around town. Other times, Yamaguchi and I throw a volleyball around while talking with Tsukishima sitting nearby and doing his own thing. Volleyball takes front and center more after Interhigh. The girl's team did way better but they lost out in the end. So, I double down practicing with the team and on my own. This carries over to a lot of practices with those two and occasionally Nozomi. I have a strong belief that everyone should be rock solid at receiving and as someone with a pretty great serve I openly admit to targeting Middle Blockers. It is something I really encourage Tadashi to learn because "A pinch-serving, Middle Blocker screams 'Target me!' if they need a person to spike at."

- A big note from Interhigh, though, is the guys actually saw me cry for the first time. I'm so frustrated at working so hard and still losing that it turns into angry, frustrated tears rolling down my cheeks. Nozomi and I are both just seething at losing to Niiyama because we were hellbent that this would be the time we went to Nationals. The past three years was playing second fiddle to Shiratorizawa Junior and now we've got Niiyama standing in our way.

- The first thing that should be a Clue about what is building up is very much the first time I slip up and call Tsukishima "Tsukki". I'm perceptive enough to have noticed that it is very much a Yamaguchi for Tsukishima Nickname and not a "For everyone" Nickname. I go  to apologize for my slipup. However, I actually get that it is okay. Tsukishima admits he doesn't mind hearing that name from me. Should be pointed out that I turn fucking scarlet because I blush at any major emotion. Yamaguchi also isn't annoyed at me using that nickname.

- I can also see Yams and I falling into a habit of being touchy with each other. When given the chance we sit close together we just do. We aren't exactly touch starved but there is something so reassuring to both of us. It goes from slight brushes to being draped around each other more or less. Sometimes Tsukishima is slightly pulled into things. We'll lean against him while animatedly talking in front of him or just watching something.

- These should be like Giant Obvious Hints that we are all clearly getting to be more than friends. It goes directly over the top of my head. Honestly, all three of us missing such hints feels like an ongoing theme for the three of us. For a perceptive trio of people we really are not picking up each other's hints.

- At some point I admit that they are like Nozomi to me in that they are don't count as "People". I'm very introverted by nature so there are very few people who don't drain me. It is a huge thing when someone doesn't tire me out let along finding two people who don't tire me out at the same time is gold.

- Since I'm a storyteller by nature I start to let it slip to them that I enjoy writing a lot and even want to make a possible podcast telling stories. Tsukki teases me because that is just how Tsukki communicates with people. But, I also see him sending me links later that night for microphones and headphones that would be great to start with. Yams is like 500% supportive from the get go. I tease them about how they should join me. We can all banter together, especially when Tsukki and I riff off each other so well.

- Summer is training for all of us and our time spent together is honestly trying to speed through summer homework. Sometimes it becomes more talking to each other over video calls or text than truly getting to see each other. I do make it a point to ask Yams about learning the Jump Float. I've got a regular jump serve but I need something extra for the next time I see Niiyama. I also Tsukki about blocking. Even if my team as a whole depends more on receiving than straight blocking there has to be something I can do.

- Sometimes before this I feel like it comes out that I have a couple of Mental Illnesses (and I headcanon as Yams having Anxiety and Depression as well) so like sometimes we are just both coping together. I also have a very poor reaction to "Fight or Flight" because I literally turned it into "Fight or Fight". It means I jump straight to arguing or spinning on my heel while swinging. Also, tears. I could see Tsukki originally being an ass about it until it quickly sinks in that this is actually a very serious thing. I could see both of them getting kind of protective over me because of these and I'm just as protective over them.

- Us actually getting together probably comes in the Exhilaration of both of us getting to go to the Spring Tournament to Represent Miyagi. There is something about doing the Impossible on top of Pure Exhaustion that just drops all sense of filters. It kind of comes out that hey we all kind of like each other as more than friends probably during a like 2am video call that night. Tsukki acts like he totally knew what was going on the entire time and was waiting on us to catch up. I admit I thought I was just misreading things a lot. Yamaguchi is probably the most together and we realize this is a thing. How do three people date? Well, that's something we're going to figure out.

- A lot of our dates are probably to museums or to the planetarium with cute cafe visits after. Tsukki's love of sweets, and mine too, mean we've been to a lot of cafes together. It is just like one of our Things.

- I am a caffeine fiend so sometimes I bring everyone coffee or one of them surprises us. Kei Tsukishima is weak for super sugary Starbucks style drinks and nothing will change my mind. Yamaguchi teases us about how much we love them. But, I will also drink coffee with two creams if it is good coffee.

- Tsukki blames Tadashi and I for the "Lame" Hobbies he picks up. My phone games expand to include the two of them so I have partners for things. Tsukki is fond of the quiz and stratgey games so we kind of get way too competative. Tadashi already pulled him into playing Pokemon but I double that need to actually play. Tsukki teases me, and to a lesser degree Tadashi, for reading fanfiction until a series he loved ended poorly. Guess who got really into Fix-It fics after that?

- I bitch and moan to Tsukki about “Playing volleyball with glasses *sucks* like. We get such ugly goggles to keep from shattering glasses.”

- Tadashi, and Tsukki who would die before saying it, thinks it is so cute when I argue up at him. I have to fully tilt my head back to make eye contact but that has never stopped me. In fact, Tsukki is a total dick about me being way, way shorter than him. Honestly, I look like an angry Porg when I argue with him. That being said, at concerts he works to get us seats where I can see.

- Yams has a picture of Tsukki and I flipping him off when he told us we look "Cute" with our sports goggles when playing. Even if we both found "cool" designs we still don't like them. But, we're also both smart enough to know that taking a volleyball to the face can crack contacts. 

- I told Nozomi about us but we otherwise were just like, "People can find out when they find out." and that's going to take a while. None of us are okay with PDA beyond like hugs or handholding. It's also not something out of the ordinary with Yams and I by this point. Yeah, I'm prickly about being touched unless asked but I'm also pretty touch oriented when I've given someone the go ahead. I also get lost easily, especially when paying more attention to my phone, or get super anxious in crowds and touch calms me down. 

- Akiteru nearly cried when he realized Tsukki had two partners. He cried when he realized Tsukki finally got along with a team and made a friend beyond Tadashi. Him dating Tadashi wasn't unexpected but the fact they're both dating me just causes him to have pride at coming out of shell to date people.

- Tadashi and I are flavors of nonbinary so we totally trades clothes with each other that fits sometimes. I love his hoodies and he gets my skirts or dresses sometimes. Makeup is a little out of my league beyond the basics but I could see him taking to way easier. I paint his nails a lot and introduce him to the base and top coats. I also totally braid his hair and put cute clips in it. We trade body sprays too. Tsukki glares at people who think of saying things to us.

[cowtale-utau]

Can I call it CowTale? Please?

So names are still not all settled. But, I thought if I started fleshing out everyone’s roles, and a little bit of personality, maybe that’d help. So here’s what I’ve got so far. Undertale Sans - Ace. The skelle in charge, a job he isn’t always fond of, but handles well enough. He makes the final decision on when they move and where they go. He has the last word in inter-camp conflicts. Occasionally he’ll disappear for a day or two, needing to get away from the responsibility he’s been saddled with. His return is always just as quiet and unacknowledged. He never wanted this but hes doing his best to handle not only the surface but also keeping track of all his and his brothers alternates. He tries his best to settle things peacefully, but isn’t afraid to use force if needed.  Undertale Papyrus - Lief. Charming and friendly, hes the one who secures their place in any given location. They try to stay settled as long as they can in one camp, and he’s very good at becoming a quickly beloved member of the nearest town. Getting an in with all the locals, and making them less likely to flip should the law come looking. In camp he helps keep the peace between the various conflicting personalities. Rival gangs and law enforcement tend to underestimate him because of his kind nature, this allows him to play “hostage” until the perfect moment arrives and he is more than willing and able to strike, and he always hits exactly as hard as he means to. Underfell Sans - Chisel. At first glance, he’s just muscle. An enforcer of sorts. He can come off brutish and careless, but like his counterparts is actually highly intelligent. He keeps everything with moving parts working properly. From wagons to weapons. Everyone handles their own basic gun maintenance, but any alterations or customization is usually run by him. He’s unafraid to get his hands dirty, by any definition, and so takes on a lot of the work the others might balk at. A social creature at heart, he can often be found in saloons, bars, and inns, and while he might seem to be a drunken layabout, its rare anyone moves through their area that he doesn’t know about. You hear a lot when people think you aren’t listening.  Underfell Papyrus - Spur. Cut throat and ruthless. Or at least, its how he often presents himself. Being around him often feels like being around a sleeping mountain lion. Elegant and dangerous. He can be quite charismatic, and falling into the role of “the gentleman” is easy for him. He draws people in with an easy confidence but it always feels like you’re taking a risk. One wrong move, one poorly chosen word, and its over. He’s damn quick in combat, choosing not to draw things out. Hit them fast, and hit them hard. Put the enemy down as quickly as possible, not out of any dislike of combat, but rather a learned caution.  Underswap Sans - Scout. His name really only partially covers his role. He’s fairly small, and physically and mentally quick. Sneaky and perceptive he can suss out exits/entrances/who’s where when, without ever being noticed. He also makes an excellent “scout” out of the wilds as well. Much like Lief, hes sociable and easy to like, but also quite a bit more manipulative. He resents being considered childish or cute, but knows how to play a role to get what he wants. Many assume because of his smaller stature he’s a stealth combatant, or stay out of fights altogether but Scout is a powerhouse front-liner, never afraid to dive right into the fray. Underswap Papyrus - Piper. You would think with how much he despises liars that he himself wouldn’t be one. You’d be wrong. A smooth talker, this skelle can spin a story like no other. There’s a good reason for any and everything, and hes quick to provide one. His lackadaisical nature makes him easy to underestimate, but he’s got a quick hand a quicker mind. If there’s a chance for the gang to talk their way out of an altercation he’s the one handling the talking. Has a side gig as a writer for several publications. He does mostly fiction, all written under a pseudonym. There’s a “monster only” publication that hes done a good bit of writing for as well, guides and warnings to help others navigate the surface.   Swapfell(Red) Sans - Whip. A master manipulator with a strong understanding of the law. He knows the laws, down to finest detail, not that it usually means much. But on the gang ends up dealing with the courts, and not outright corruption, he’s the one to get them out of it. He can twist anything too his favor, and isn’t afraid to play dirty. He’ll gas-light, triangulate, and manipulate to get his way. While he knows when to take it seriously, he has been known to “play” a bit when fighting. Taunts and tricks are his bread and butter. He’s extremely confident, and has the skills to back it up. Swapfell(Red) Papyrus - Coyote. A hunter by nature and training. He can find damn near any one and anything. Whether this is fresh meat for the camps dinner, or a person of interest needing brought in, or even something someone lost, he’s got it handled. When not working he prefers to stay close to camp or in the wilds. Crowds make him uncomfortable when he doesn’t have his mind set to “work mode”. As a combatant he prefers to stay at the fringe, picking off anyone who thinks they can slip away. Horrortale Sans - Tender/Ten. Minds the camp and animals. Horses, any livestock they may have, even a bit of gardening if they settle for that long. He gathers wild plants as well, though he tries not to wander too far if they're fairly new to an area. His memory isn’t the best these days, but Cook helps him keep track of what still needs done each day. He struggles to sleep at night so usually takes at least a partial watch role, stalking the edges of camp to keep himself alert. Tries to stay out of combat as much as possible, as it is very much a trigger for him, and the only one guaranteed to be safe if he frenzies is his Papyrus. Horrortale Papyrus - Cook. Rarely leaves camp. His appearance is... Jarring to most, and he hates making people uncomfortable. His social nature has been tempered by his past, so he tends to be more cautious than his “classic” counterpart. He does however still enjoy a more quiet social interaction, a light conversation while doing the washing or gentle chatter while he cooks. He handles most of the cooking for the camp. A few of the others enjoy jumping in when they get a chance, but are often busy with other their tasks, leaving the bulk of the work to him. It took him awhile but he’s gotten comfortable with handling meat again, so long as he butchers it himself. There’s a sense of discomfort that lurks in the back of his mind, but he can push through it so long as he has certainty exactly what meat it is and where it came from.

Swapfell(Purple) Sans - Doc. An absolute control freak. Took a bit for him to accept that, no, hes not the head honcho here. Once he settled though he found himself easily sliding into something of almost administrative role. He keeps track of the camps supplies, who has what, who needs what, what needs doing. While he may not make the orders, he sees to it that they get done. He’s also the primary healer of the gang, although most try to avoid needing it as his rants are near legendary. Swapfell(Purple) Papyrus - Flint. Finds most of the jobs for the gang. He always keeps a metaphorical eye and ear out for ways to make more money. Is also a cutthroat loan shark. Knows how to navigate the underbelly of society and a master of playing people against each other. While he’s certainly more than competent in a fight, don’t be surprised if he didn’t poison everyone at the poker game before hand to get that leg up. His movements are always economical and every attack carefully calculated to do the most damage with the least effort. Fellswap Gold Sans - Haze. Is rarely seen with the gang. He handles the gentry side of things. Playing politics and working to keep the authorities off the gangs back. Politics and diplomacy are his bread and butter, though it tends to be a darker kind of diplomatic. Threats and blackmail are common, but often unable to be traced back to him. He’s highly intelligent and manipulative, he has something on everyone and knows exactly what to say when. Its often hard to read the true intent of his words on the first pass. Because most people are clueless as to who’s really pulling the strings, he is well loved in high society and moves in important circles. Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Cirrus. Mostly kept out of things. His brother is more than a little overprotective, and prefers to keep him out the fray. He doesn’t mind this much, as he has severe anxiety and is highly introverted. This does mean, however that it is very rare he is recognized. He fades into the background easily making him excellent at stealth work. This often used by him acting as something of a “runner” between his brother and the rest of the gang. He’s also unmatched as a sniper, but it is extremely rare he is ever called on for it, as it is heavily emotionally taxing for him. Underlust Sans - Mab Underlust Papyrus - Calico These two almost always work as a pair. Often posing as prostitutes, they can run several cons this way. Get ‘em drunk and rob ‘em blind is pretty common. They also work well as the “designated distraction”, and its a job they greatly enjoy. They’re both a quick hand with knives and tend to prefer ambush combat.

This got... long. Any thoughts or opinions are welcome. Obviously there’s still a few that need a bit of work. I really hadn’t originally wanted a cast this large but I’m a sucker for Skelles. Its my own fault. A few got names from their roles, but there’s still several I need to work on.

[kuuderepunkin]

May I please have a match up for Death note and Assassination classroom?

I’m an INTJ, Scorpio,I like to draw/paint and write. When I get the chance to Im very out going but I’m normally very shy and cold at first. I love true crime and psychology sometimes I just watch people to see why they act a certain way I have a very low self esteem and I have problems eating and sleeping, I know how to use people to get want I want and I can change my personality to make the people around me like me a lot better

When I’m in a bad mood I normally just want to be alone and way from everyone except for the person I love or am closest with. I deal with a lot at home so I don’t like being yelled at at all and tend to flinch a lot. When I get comfortable with someone I am very cuddly and clingy.

I have dark blue hair right now and blue eyes, I normally have to wear glasses but don’t if I can help it. My style is punk mixed with grunge. I love dark things but secretly like cute things.

Of course! Honestly I love true crime/psychology too o0o and I feel you on the home life, so I hope these help out at least a little bit <3  I hope you enjoy these!

Death Note matchup:  L Lawliet

 I would match you up with L for a couple reasons, you’re both analytical and observant of people, your interest in true crime and psychology obviously interests him as well. And your initial shy or cold personality does not bother him one bit, he’s a patient man and highly observant himself. He is very interested in your appearance as well, it’s quite unique and draws his attention immediately. When he first sees and approaches you, it’s a bit awkward, because he kind of just stares at you which may be a bit uncomfortable. 

Your first meeting was probably a public police press conference, it was discussing the current growth in unexpected and unexplainable strings of deaths attached to criminals. 

As always L was there just in the background despite being the one who wrote most the police reports, when he spotted you in the crowd. 

You had probably heard about the case on the radio or news and became curious about the details, being a fan of true crime you wanted to see what the police investigation had turned up. 

As the press conference went on you began to feel uneasy, when you caught someone staring at you. It was unsettling at first but the moment the dark haired male caught you making eye contact with him, he approached you. His piercing eyes just bore into you as he remained quiet, the two of you just standing there in false silence as the detectives began to talk about their leads in the case. 

After that long awkward exchange L finally speaks and bluntly tells you he likes your hair and the “manner in which you dress.” 

He curiously asks you about your opinion on the case, if you tried to cater your personality to fit a discussion with him I think he would catch on to the flexibility in your disposition. 

L is very interested in what you have to say about the case, any outside perspectives are always riveting to him. If given the chance he is very excited to tell you about his personal theories on the case. 

Before the two of you go your separate ways he asks for your phone number or other means of contacting you. And to ease your suspicion of his strange mannerisms he tells you who he actually is, because the time he spent talking with you he decided there was no chance you would be involved with the case, so revealing his true identity wouldn’t jeopardize anything. 

It doesn’t take long for him to become attached to you, and he invites you over often to talk about different true crimes and analyze different people in deep intellectual conversations. He really enjoys having someone to discuss these topics with, let alone someone he finds himself becoming attracted to. 

Even before the two of you become an official couple he will point out that you haven’t “eaten the proper amount of food necessary to sustain the human body.” And he does not hesitate to get you some food, insisting that it’s important for your mind and body. 

Sadly, he is also not the best when it comes to getting rest, so sometimes he will make a compromise, he will join you in trying to get some much needed sleep. If it’s not just because you fail to get sleep, but have trouble falling asleep he will do his best to find solutions for you. 

He’ll make you tea, rub your back, play with your hair to lull you to sleep, and if you’re up for it he will cuddle with you to make you feel warm and secure. 

L never yells so you don’t have to worry about that at all, besides he’s so patient I feel that it would take a lot for him to become remotely upset. And if someone else is raising their voice he is quick to deescalate the situation. He’s also not a fan of people being loud, and if you’ve told him about your rocky home life he does not tolerate people making you upset. 

And while L may not seem to be the type to be into affection, he truly adores it, but he never rushes into it. Especially understanding you are more introverted. Once you become comfortable with physical touch he will always crave to be near you. Not always in extremely obvious forms of affection, but he enjoys sitting next to you with his legs touching your own as your arms press into each other. 

He will intertwine his fingers with yours as the two of you sit beside one another. He loves when you lean your head on his shoulder and sometimes he will put his head on your own. 

When watching television on his couch he loves being the big spoon, or just sitting up and having you sit between his legs with your back against his chest. I feel he may be a bit touch starved but he only craves being near people he trusts. 

I can see him watching you from the side as you draw or paint only to sneak up and gently take your glasses off and put them on, curious as to how it feels to look out of them. He gives them back after checking himself out in a nearby mirror. 

Contrary to belief he is not critical about everything, by this I mean he is never critical of your art. He is curious and observant and will ask questions but he will never give his own opinion unless told explicitly to do so. 

He appreciates your creativity and believes putting any kind of critical analysis on something you care deeply about, that has to do with self expression, is counter productive. 

He also loves getting you gifts, it’s a mix of both your grunge/dark aesthetic and your love for cute things, somehow he finds the perfect things to get for you. Anytime he has to leave you for a job he sends gifts to you to remind you he’s constantly thinking about you. 

Assassination Classroom matchup: Karma Akabane 

  As for Assasination Classroom there are a lot of good candidates, so choosing a single character to match you with was a close call. Nagisa is a great match for intellect and psychological discussion but his well mannered behavior may prove difficult in breaking through your initial cold exterior. Karma on the other hand is quite smart despite not initially putting his full effort in the series, and his edgy aesthetic and personality would be a great match for your own grunge/punk style. Talk about power couple, he will bring out the best (or worst) in you. He’s slightly teasing but he knows where to draw the line because his intention is not to make you upset just to see your reactions. 

If you have even an ounce of sass in you, he’s going to help draw it out, making remarks about others and having you join in makes his heart grow 10 sizes. He’s so proud he can have the effect of making you more confident, even if it’s just because he’s around you. 

While he hates to admit it, he’s pretty smart if he would just put the effort in. So while you discuss your interests in criminal cases and psychology he will do his best to entertain you without revealing too much of the intellect he is in public. 

Luckily in private he doesn’t care how much he shows off his intelligence, he will hold long discussions with you about different people you’ve seen and the two of you will pick apart their personality and analyze every aspect of their possible psychology behind why they act the way they do. 

When the two of you watch a movie you often discuss the characters and maybe how ridiculous the plot is. He’s a savage and will tear down the villains in the media because of how ridiculous they can be. It can get to the point where he’s analyzing the writers at some point because “who would write such a two dimensional character? They’re not even likeable.” 

He will not let you neglect your health and will constantly remind you to eat and keep hydrated. Sometimes it sounds like he’s nagging but it’s because he doesn’t want to seem like too much of a softie. 

And as for your sleeping trouble’s he’s not going to let those slide either, he’s going to be giving you massages, running you soothing baths, preparing you some tea and bed time activities to help you unwind. 

If you’re down to let him cuddle he’s going to do everything in his power to lull you to sleep, tactical hair brushing, rubbing small circles to your arm. 

If people yell around you he’s going to go into dark Karma mode and just be little them to the point they have crippling anxiety and just leave the two of you alone. He tries not to be too confrontational around you because he doesn’t want to make you anxious. 

But he’s your body guard and won’t let anyone say or do anything that makes you nervous.

In public he’ll let you cling to him, but he insists he’s just being a good supportive boyfriend, and not that he loves to have you attached to his side. 

He slightly teases you about your love of the more cute things, but he bought it for you so he obviously cares enough to make you happy. It just really gets him going to have you be expressive, whether you’re telling him off or blushing from the teasing he’s happy either way. 

[rkiverse]

otoñal - 2 | jjk

previous → Chapter 2 → next

Pairing | Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre | fluff, angst + professor!jungkook, college!au, and very strong e2l!au

Warnings | for future chapters, there will be explicit language, lots of bantering, and lots of pining :-)

Summary | Of all the women Jeon Jungkook can have, he goes for the ones he can’t. And so when he’s faced with an arranged marriage, his best buddies come to the rescue with a proposition that leaves him with no choice but to go with. Little did he know, said ‘proposition’ has something to do with a student he doesn’t get along with quite well.

→ to get into the mood of this series, i highly suggest listening to this!

Word Count | 4k+ words

Namjoon’s startled when he hears Jungkook slam the door shut. He eyes Jungkook as he trudges his way towards his work station. Dark circles are evident around his doe-eyes and Namjoon can’t help but wonder what must have kept the younger one up at night.

“Pulled an all-nighter, I assume?” Namjoon decides to spark up a conversation. Jungkook’s putting on his lab goggles before shaking his head in reply, chuckling softly.

“Had a very interesting talk with my parents at the dinner table last night,” he explains. “I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“It must bother you that much, huh?” Jungkook hums in reply.

Jungkook lets out a tiring sigh. At this point, Jungkook has lost count of the times he’s sighed ever since he got to campus. Unfortunately, he had only gotten three hours of sleep and he was still late.

As he places his sample underneath the microscope, he gives it a good look before prying his eyes away from it. It couldn’t hurt telling an upperhand what was going on in your life, right?

He hesitates. “My parents think my dating life is boring and that I’m probably going to die single.”

Namjoon bursts out into laughter. “That’s what kept you up all night?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he tries to laugh it off with Namjoon, but he can’t help but ponder on it. “But it’s true, and I don’t know if I should be concerned.”

“But you’re only twenty-three, why rush?” Namjoon questions.

“My parents are planning to set me up with an arranged marriage.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

Namjoon almost chokes on his spit. He tears his eyes away from his microscope and he places his tools down before he wrecks something out of shock.

“You parents are what?!”

“____, do you mind having a word with me after class today?”

You abruptly stop in your tracks. As your eyes meet your professor’s, you quickly nod your head before scurrying to your seat that Hoseok’s saved for you. The whole class erupts into whispers that are most likely about you and you can’t help but pull at the strings of your hoodie, hoping that it’ll make you disappear.

“You literally just stepped into the class and Professor Jeon’s already breathing down your neck.”

You hit Hoseok’s arm and he lets out a muffled yelp into his sweater paws. You watch Professor Jeon as he starts to pull up a PowerPoint presentation for today’s lecture. He rolls up the sleeves of his black button-up shirt and you hear the class erupt into whispers. He has veins travelling up his arm and you can’t help but look away.

“Seriously though,” Hoseok whispers. “What did you do to have Professor Jeon hate you that much?”

You pout. “A coffee stain on his white button-up shirt, apparently.”

Professor Jeon turns around to face the class and he clasps his hands together. As he begins to briefly talk about today’s lecture while the PowerPoint loads, you take this as a chance to get a good look of the classroom itself. You notice how all the females are seated near the front of the auditorium, and all the males are seated near the back. You also notice how the females barely have any laptops with them, and instead, opted for a pen and notebook for note-taking.

You snap out of your thoughts when Professor Jeon clears his throat. “I’ve also marked your quizzes, and since this quiz is worth five percent of your mark, I decided to lightly mark your work.”

“Lightly,” Hoseok scoffs to himself. “On my other quiz, he deducted points because I wasn’t too detailed in my explanation.”

“The class did fairly well, but as the course progresses on, I’m going to expect a bit more from each and every one of you.” Professor Jeon explains. “Are we good with that?”

The whole class agrees and it prompts him to begin his lecture. You pull out your laptop and open a new word document. As you begin to type away, you could feel Hoseok nudging your arm.

You glance at him. “Why do you think he does surprise quizzes?”

“To make people come to class?” You shrug your shoulders.

“Good point.” Hoseok nods his head as he scribbles down the notes from each slide. “His notes aren’t even helpful. Maybe that’s why I’ve been bombing the quizzes.”

Professor Jeon switches to the next slide of his presentation. The great thing about taking notes with your laptop was that 1. you’re a fast typer and 2. it hid you from your professors. However, Professor Jeon takes notice of how you’re practically hiding behind your 13-inch laptop screen and he can’t help but smirk.

He clears his throat. “____, do you remember the term we used from yesterday’s lecture?”

You jump in your seat, completely alarmed. You look up from your laptop and your eyes meet Professor Jeon’s. You gulp nervously. “Immunological memory?”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Correct.”

You let out a sigh of relief before leaning back in your seat, letting yourself slowly sink down into it. Hoseok bursts out into soft giggles and you send a glare at him.

“He really is out to get you,” Hoseok mumbles.

“He really is.” You groan.

“He barely calls out anyone in the class,” he mutters. “He must’ve chosen you as a target.”

Almost an hour passes and the lecture is about to finish. Hoseok glances at his watch before letting out a small gasp. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shows you the time. Your eyes slightly widen and the both of you start to quickly take all the notes down before class time runs out.

“I’ll end the lecture here, but please, pick up your quiz before heading to your next lecture!”

The whole class starts to gather their things. You’re too busy shoving your laptop into your backpack while Hoseok’s trying to shove all his coloured pens into his pencil case. Both of you had a lecture right after this one and it only meant that you only had five minutes to run across campus to get to the classroom. It was unfortunate that the next class you both shared was on the other side of campus, and the only time it was offered was after Immunology class.

As the both of you scurry down to the front of the classroom to pick up your quizzes, you hear your name being called out. You look up to see Hoseok waving at you. He has both of your quizzes in his hand. You sigh with relief, catching up to him before you hear your name being called out again.

You stop in your tracks. You look over your shoulder to see Professor Jeon. As you let out a sigh, you turn towards Hoseok. “Go ahead, I’ll be late. Save me a seat.”

Hoseok purses his lips into a tight line. “Don’t worry. I’ll save you a seat.”

Biting your lip, you face Professor Jeon. “Is there a reason why you wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes.” He replies. “It’s about your quiz marks.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. There’s nothing wrong with your marks in the course, as you’ve been acing all of the quizzes so far. “My… quiz marks?”

“Yes. I noticed that you’ve been doing really well in the class and I was wondering if you’ve had any background in immunology.” He explains.

You nod your head. “My father was an immunology major when he was in university. He’s taught me everything he knows ever since I was a kid.”

“Interesting,” he hums in reply. “Well, that’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “What else did you want to talk about, sir?”

“The Dean of the faculty called for a meeting with all the professors and talked about implementing class presidents in each class.” He says as he erases the chalkboard. Once he finishes erasing the board, he places the eraser back onto the ledge and glances at you. “And I was wondering if you could be the class president.”

“Me? Class president?” You question.

“Are you interested?” He asks as he dusts off the remaining chalk from his hands.

“Well, I’m quite busy with my other courses so I won’t be able to take such a huge responsibility.”

He squints his eyes in suspicion. “Well, you do owe me.”

You raise an eyebrow and watch him as he begins to smirk. You scoff. “Owe you? Since when do I owe you?”

He starts counting with his fingers. “You owe me for my white shirt, for my car, my parking spot… right, and also for questioning my job position as a professor.”

As you start to laugh nervously, you scratch the back of your neck. “Right. Well then, I’ll get right to it, sir.”

He grins. “Great.”

“You’re really out here to get me,” you mutter underneath your breath.

“What was that?” He asks innocently.

“Nothing!” You yelp.

“Well then,” he throws his bag over his shoulder and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, class president.”

“Namjoon, please, just help me out.” Hoseok pleads.

Namjoon’s busy reading his novel. At this point, Hoseok’s run out of solutions. At first, he had thought that immunology was an easy course, the bird course he had only ever dreamt of taking. Everyone had said that the course was easy and it helped boost their gpa. But surprise, surprise, Hoseok has been bombing all the quizzes so far and even the help he was getting from you wasn’t even helping him at all.

“You know the professor, can’t you just help me out by getting some notes for me?” Hoseok begs.

Namjoon sighs. “Look, I know we’re best friends and I’d do anything for you. But the things you’re asking me to do is impossible.”

Hoseok pouts. “You’re such an ass. All you have to do is just ask Professor Jeon to give you some notes for his class because of some made up reason then hand it to me.”

“And you think Jungkook’s going to buy this ‘made up reason’?”

“At this point, I’ll do anything to pass this course.”

Namjoon sighs. “You know, all you have to do is go to his office hours, ask him for help, and he’ll help you. He’s not an asshole who’ll just dismiss you before you could even speak.”

“But he’s completely unapproachable,” he whines. “He’s literally out to get my best friend and I’m pretty sure he’ll be out to get me.”

“Here’s where you’re wrong,” Namjoon shuts his novel and places it onto the coffee table. “First of all, Jungkook’s definitely approachable, he’s just the shy type.”

“Shy?” Namjoon nods his head.

“He’s a shy twenty-three year old, cut him some slack.”

Hoseok gasps. “He’s only twenty-three?”

Namjoon chuckles. “Yes, a twenty-three year old professor who’s somehow single.”

Hoseok falls silent. Namjoon could almost hear the gears turn in Hoseok’s head. But before it dawns on him, Hoseok’s already beating him to it.

“Forget what I just said.”

“Did you just say that he’s single?”

Namjoon curses to himself. “Yes, he’s single.”

“And ready to mingle?”

“Well, he is being set up in an arranged marriage that he’s completely against but―” Namjoon cuts himself off and slaps a hand over his mouth.

Hoseok’s in complete shock. He has his mouth hung open. Namjoon knows that he’s fucked up and that he can’t take back what he’s said. However, Hoseok clamps his mouth shut and begins to pace back and forth in Namjoon’s living room.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Namjoon begs.

“So, you said that Professor Jeon―I mean, this Jungkook dude―is being set up in an arranged marriage against his will?” Hoseok questions. Namjoon nods.

“Hoseok―”

“I have a plan.” Hoseok interrupts him.

“A plan?”

Hoseok grins. “I have a plan that will give us all the benefit of the doubt.”

“Who do you exactly mean by all?” Namjoon asks.

“It will benefit Jungkook’s love life, it will improve my declining grades, it will save ____’s ass from being roasted by Jungkook, and you won’t lose your friendship with Jungkook.”

“Jung Hoseok, what do you have planned under your sleeve?” Hoseok’s grin gets wider.

“Thank me later.”

It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole campus became aware of the ‘class president’ concept. Professor Jeon had another meeting with you regarding the duties you have to fulfill as class president. Every Friday, you had to conduct a brief one-on-one meeting with Professor Jeon to outline any struggles the class has been going through in terms of course content. Before each class, you have to arrive fifteen minutes early to help Professor Jeon set up. At this point, with all the time you have with Professor Jeon, you wouldn’t be surprised if all your female classmates would die to be in your position.

But as the weeks pass, you guess you could say that the coffee stain and parking lot incident has been forgotten.

“Class president.”

You stop in the hallway. You look over your shoulder to see Professor Jeon standing a couple of metres away from you. “Yes, sir?”

“I know I told you that I didn’t need help setting up for today’s lecture, but I need help bringing a few things to class.”

You inwardly sigh. “Alright, sir.”

As the both of you head to his office, you could see Professor Jeon glancing at you from the corner of your eye. You look up at him and he quickly looks away. Professor Jeon covers it up with a cough.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “So, what’s your major?”

“I’m a physics major.” You reply.

He looks surprised. “And yet you took my class?”

You nod. “Although I’m completely invested in the world of physics, I do have an interest in Immunology. My father loved Immunology, and I guess I wanted to live on his legacy.”

The both of you reach his office and as you walk in, you marvel at his bookshelves with all the Immunology textbooks your father used to read to you. You snap out of your trance when you feel a heavy stack of books being placed in your arms.

“Mr. Jeon?”

Out of curiosity, you turn towards the owner of the voice. It’s a classmate of yours. She hesitantly steps into the office, hugging her textbook to her chest. Professor Jeon looks quite surprised at her sudden presence, making him place down the books in his arms.

She clears her throat. “I know it’s not office hours but I have a really important question to ask.”

He folds his arms. “My office hours were yesterday, did you not set aside some time to make it to my office hours? Class is starting in a couple of minutes.”

“I just need you to clarify a diagram in the textbook. It’s not the same as the one you used in the slides―”

“I thought I made myself clear in the syllabus that the diagrams presented in lecture are the ones to be followed.” He cuts her off.

You purse your lips into a tight line. As you fix the stack of books in your arms, you slowly head towards the door.

“Professor Jeon?” You say softly, and he glances at you. His face filled with annoyance softens. You point at the door. “I’ll start heading to class. Is this all I have to bring?”

He nods his head. “Yes, just place them on the table. Thanks again, ____.”

Just before you leave his office, you make eye contact with the girl. She looks at you suspiciously before sticking her tongue out at you. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, and just as you turn on your heel, you could see the girl intentionally lean over Professor Jeon’s office desk from the corner of your eye.

You could only scoff. Right. Lately, the lecture auditorium has been overly packed due to all the female students trying to find a closer seat to get a good look of Professor Jeon. Some of them were your classmates, and some of them just heard all the gossip about a young, handsome immunology professor teaching down the hall. You couldn’t blame them, Professor Jeon did look handsome. And young. And very attractive. Wait, what’s going on with you?

But then it dawns on you. Before you even know it, you’re sprinting down the hall to get to the auditorium before all the seats are taken and you end up sitting in the aisles.

“I’m not interested.”

Hoseok tugs at your arm, pulling you back into his dorm. You use all of your power to shrug him off, but it only results in him pulling at your arm again. As you let out a tiring sigh, you face him in defeat.

“It all makes sense, ____!” Hoseok exclaims.

“How does forcing me, your best friend, to go on a blind date make sense? I’m not interested in dating, did I not make that clear for the past half hour?”

Hoseok pouts. “Listen, ____. I just need you to go out on a blind date with Namjoon’s best buddy and in return, he’ll help us ace Professor Jeon’s course.”

“Why can’t you just study? Is it that hard? Has our study sessions not helped at all?” You question, huffing out a strand of hair away from your face.

“I’ve been studying! It’s just that Professor Jeon hates my ass,” he frowns. “It’s like the moment he sees my name on a test paper, he automatically marks hard.”

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” you argue.

“Do you not feel bad for me the slightest bit?”

You ponder. You shake your head. “Nope. Not even the slighest bit.”

“____!” He whines. “Please, just one blind date, and we can put it all behind us.”

“Just one?” He nods his head.

“Just one!” He places his hands on your shoulders and you feel your shoulders slump at the sudden heaviness. “Please, ____? I’ll do anything in return.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Like doing my laundry for the rest of the year?”

Hoseok nods his head. “Anything.”

“Like sharing the notes with me once Namjoon gives them to you?”

“Anything, ____.”

You pry Hoseok’s hands off your shoulders. As you push him aside, you make your way towards his kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of soju from his fridge, you look over your shoulder to see him still standing at the door, looking very lost.

You tilt your head. “So, when’s the date?”

[sparklyjojos]

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [3/13]

In which the family’s magic show continues and resolves.

--

9. GUILLOTINE TRICK

Once the break comes to an end and everyone finds their seats, a spotlight shows Koyomi and Kotensui standing on the stage with a short table between them. On the table is a mysterious wooden something and, for some reason, a few carrots and daikon raddishes.

“Are you having fun, Kotensui?” Koyomi asks.

“So much fun! I even won at rock-paper-scissors!”

“You really did! But you know, Kotensui, I really want to learn your secret now.”

“What secret?”

“I want to explain how you were able to make your hand split like that.”

She picks up that wooden something from the table. It looks like a thick plank stood on its short side, with one big hole near the top and a smaller hole near the bottom. The audience can clearly see the scenery on the other side through the holes. She shows everyone that this strange flat box can be opened, but that’s there’s nothing suspicious inside… except for a heavy glinting blade. The blade can be lifted and lowered manually when holding it by the part sticking outside the box. It looks like it has no other way to go but up and down… and through whatever would be stuck through the holes.

“What is this, Koyomi?” Kotensui inquires.

“It’s an arm guillotine,” she explains, her tone turning darker. “A guillotine used to chop off arms.” To demonstrate the mechanism, she sticks a carrot and a raddish through the holes and swiftly brings the blade down, cutting the vegetables in half.

“Wow, it really cut them!” Kotensui seems amazed. “I hope you’re not going to stick your arm in there, are you?”

“Of course not! It’s going to be your arm.”

“What? W-wait, Koyomi!”

“Like I said, I want to discover your secret!” She grabs his left wrist and pulls him closer. “It’ll be fine! You’re a wooden puppet, so even if I cut off your arm, I can just put it back once I know what’s going on!”

“No, no, please no!” Kotensui struggles so much that she gives up.

“Jeez. Okay, let me show you something first, then.” Once again she puts two vegetables through the holes and drops the blade. This time, however, only the vegetable in the bottom hole gets cut in half. The one in the top hole is magically intact, despite the fact that the blade clearly had to go right through it. “See, Kotensui? It’s magic! It’s safe to put your arm in there.”

“Oh, alright then!” Kotensui goes back to his cheerful innocence and sticks his gloved left hand through the top hole, but his joy turns to confusion when Koyomi grasps his forearm tightly. “Er, why are you holding my arm?”

“It’s dangerous if you move too much.”

“D-dangerous?! But you said it was safe!”

"Now hold still…!”

As the puppet obediently freezes, Koyomi brings the blade down… and Kotensui’s severed hand tumbles off the table, making him scream in fear.

“Huh?” Koyomi looks perplexed. “But it shouldn’t… did I make a mistake? No, wait, there’s something strange about this…” She picks up the discarded hand and inspects it carefully. It seems there’s something moving on its own inside the glove. Koyomi throws it in the air towards the audience, but it doesn’t fall, instead turning into a white dove. It flies back to perch on Koyomi’s arm.

“Stop playing around, Kotensui,” she says seeing that he’s still in shock. “Just like I thought, your arm didn’t really get cut off!”

“Huh? It didn’t?” Kotensui stares at his sleeve and a trembling gloved hand slowly peeks out of it. “Oh—oh, you’re right! I’m fine! Sorry!”

--

10. MAGIC HANDS

“By the way, Koyomi,” Kotensui asks still looking at his hand, “can you do something like… this?” He stands with his front to the audience, left arm raised to his side at a 90 degree angle.

“Like this?” Koyomi imitates his pose.

“Like this!” Kotensui pokes his hand as far as he can out of his sleeve. Koyomi does the same with no difficulty, but then Kotensui stretches his arm a bit further… and further… and further still… until his hand is a good twenty centimeters further than it should be before the arm retracts to its natural length. “Cool, huh? Now look at this!” This time he raises both his arms to the sides, and both stretch half a meter outward. His fists rotate and slowly the five fingers unfold one by one. Since the elongated part of each arm (?) is dark and hard to see in front of the black curtain, it almost looks like his white gloved hands are hovering in the air a good distance away from the puppet. Then the arms stretch out some more, and out of each sleeve peeks out… another hand in white glove, holding what the audience now understands is not Kotensui’s really long arm, but a black rod with an openable “hand” on its end.

“What are those?” Koyomi asks.

“Magic Hands! They stretch like Son Goku’s staff. Hey, look at this!” Kotensui lowers the open Magic Hands to brace against the ground, and by progressively inching them closer and closer to himself uses the rods to lift his body three meters in the air, like he’s walking on stilts. Then he raises both his legs towards the ceiling, so he’s entirely upside down now, balancing his entire body weight on his hands (or maybe—seeing as he’s a puppet—just on a bunch of cleverly hidden strings, but even so, it’s still a marvelous show of skill on the puppeteer's part, whoever that might be).

Once Kotensui turns right-side up again, he looks at something above him. The wooden bell hammer from earlier is still there, hanging six meters above the floor. Kotensui steels himself, then quick as lightning takes one Magic Hand entirely off the ground and points it upwards, where its hand part grasps tightly around the bell hammer. He does the same with the other Magic Hand, and as a result is now hanging from the bell hammer like from a trapeze. Both Magic Hands retract slowly—first Kotensui’s real (?) hands hide back inside his sleeves, then the black rods progressively disappear inside—thus pulling him upwards, until he’s able to innocently sit on the bell hammer like on a swing, holding onto one of the ropes used to suspend it. The Magic Hands are once again fully hidden inside his sleeves.

As the audience explodes in applause, the bell hammer is slowly lowered to the stage. Kotensui invites Koyomi to join him. Once she's sitting by his side, her hand holding the other suspension rope for safety, the bell hammer is lifted up six meters above the stage.

“Oh, it’s really high!” Koyomi exclaims.

“Now we can watch the show too! And from the best seats!”

As they look down in anticipation, the spotlight on them progressively dims, finally enveloping them in darkness and bringing the audience’s attention back to the ground, where the stagehands in black have just finished cleaning up the stage.

--

11. LINKING HULA HOOPS

Three middle-school-age girls enter, each holding a long white ribbon they wave around as they dance. The girls look identical like triplets, all wearing similar white leotards. After dancing for a while they stand in a triangle formation. The ribbons are tracing complicated spirals above their heads, but all of a sudden those white soft rings magically turn into hula hoops that the girls then keep on gracefully gyrating around their bodies.

Then a clown sporting typical make-up, a brown mohawk and a cape shows up, riding in on top of what seems to be a globe. As he circles around the stage, two of the girls shift their paths closer and closer to each other, their moving hula hoops dangerously close to colliding, any second now… but instead of crashing, the hoops seem to pass through each other, with the third girl soon approaching and demonstrating that her own hoop likewise seems intangible. Finally the three gain some distance and finish the dance, triumphantly rising their hoops among applause.

--

12. BALL OF FIRE AND CIRCLE OF RED

The clown riding the globe takes the central spot on the stage, stops, bends backwards until he touches the ground, and performs a handstand, the ball kept up by his legs. He jumps back upright and starts switching positions from one to another, balancing the globe on his forehead, knee, chest... Meanwhile, the three girls throw the hula hoops off stage and in return each gets a silver sports ball that they use to enact another dance in the background.

The clown is now bouncing the globe up using his head, sending the ball higher and higher, until it rises all the way into the darkness above the stage… and doesn’t fall back down. The clown looks up in puzzlement.

“Oh! Sorry, were you still using this?” comes a familiar voice from above.

A new spotlight reveals the two children still sitting on the bell hammer, Koyomi using one arm to hold the rope and the other to help steady Kotensui, whose both hands are occupied with the globe. After the clown overdramatically gestures at them to give the ball back, Kotensui says, “Ah! Understood. Just one moment!”

The spotlight on the children disappears. The clown still looks up, prepared to catch the globe, but suddenly seems to change his mind and steps aside, causing the globe to narrowly miss him and hit the ground—with a loud thud that startles even the three dancers.

The clown approaches the ball with a suspicious expression, and it starts wobbling slightly on its own, as if it’s an animal easy to spook. He takes a few more steps, and the globe rises slightly in the air. The clown takes off his two-sided black-and-white cape and holding it slowly approaches the ball like a careful hunter. With the black sequin side of the cape as the background, the globe really brings to mind the Earth in starry space.

The clown quickly throws the cape over the globe and presses it to the ground. It visibly struggles under the cloth, trying to fly in all directions to escape, until it apparently gives up and settles down. Contented, the clown lets the ball out, and just like before it rises slightly in the air, the black part of the cape once more being held as the backdrop.

But just as it seems things finally calmed down, the globe suddenly rises much higher and goes up in flames. The clown quickly wraps the ball in the cape—the white side of it facing outside—and this seems to extinguish the flames. But then the globe escapes his grasp and with the cape still covering it flies off towards the audience, zigzagging chaotically over their heads like a confused ghost. Whenever it returns to the stage it narrowly escapes the clown’s attempts to catch it. Finally, he pins it down to the ground with his entire body weight… but the cape underneath him goes completely flat. Confused, the clown lifts the cloth and reveals that the ball has disappeared. What’s more, the black inside of his cape has turned white, and there’s what looks like a red round imprint that the burning globe must have left on the material—making it look like the flag of Japan.

--

13. FIVE-BALL CASCADE

The clown gets two of the three girls to hold the cape from each short end, so that the newly created flag of Japan faces the audience. Then he retrieves a black wooden plank from somewhere, drops it and catches it again, and it has magically doubled into two planks in the process. The planks are connected and unfolded into what looks like the same table that Koyomi and Kotensui used earlier, just in adult size.

The clown then stands behind the flag and puts his fist against it so hard it bulges, probably trying to demonstrate that it’s one continuous piece of fabric. However, when he then tries the same from the front, his fist seems to effortlessly enter the red circle, and once he takes his hand back out, he is now holding a stuffed ball made of red material. He passes the ball to the unoccupied third girl, who gently caresses the fabric with her hand, making it magically turn white, and sets it down on the table. The clown pulls out another ball that the girl turns white, and another, and so it repeats until there are six white balls.

The clown then retrieves a long cylinder that has been attached to his costume, briefly turning it bottom-first to the audience so they can see it’s an empty tube. He stands the tube on the table, takes one stuffed ball and throws it in from above. When he then lifts the tube, what comes out the other end is not the ball, but a long white object similar to a bowling pin. The tube is once again shown to the audience bottom-first, and just like before it’s completely empty. The ball disappeared. It couldn’t just be sneakily dropped to the floor, since the audience can clearly see underneath the simple table. This magical transformation is repeated until all the balls turn into pins.

Finally, the clown pulls out one more red ball from the flag, but doesn’t pass it along. Instead he gestures at the two girls holding the flag, and they first show the other side of it to the audience—just like before, it’s completely white—then fold the flag and forcefully stuff it down the tube.

Then all three girls take two white pins each and retreat to the back of the stage, where they stand in a triangle formation again and begin a juggle act. They’re passing the pins along themselves in a never ending circle: each girl throws the pin in her right hand to her companion on the right, passes the pin from her left hand to her right, and with the now empty left hand receives the pin that has been just thrown by her companion on the left. It must require amazing coordination, yet the girls perform it so fluidly and quickly that the pins almost seem to create a circle linking them.

While they’re doing this, the clown directs everyone’s attention to the red ball he’s holding up. He makes a simple gesture, and the ball has now multiplied into two, then three balls held between his fingers. He chooses one of these three to repeat the multiplying act using his other hand, so now he has the total of five red balls. He starts to juggle all five at once using his hands and legs, and as the balls go around, their color magically turns from red to white, then back to red, to white, to red, white, red… Not only that, the white pins juggled by the three girls in the background suddenly change to red too.

The clown and the girls stop their act when a new character joins in from backstage: another clown, this one with a red afro and a tricorn hat, who rides in on an unicycle holding two trays with many glasses balanced on them. He comes to a stop, steps off his ride and unloads the trays onto the table. 

The tube from earlier is still there on the table, with the flag of Japan presumably still stuffed inside. The mohawk clown approaches and somehow manages to fit all five of his balls inside, and after him the girls have no problem putting in all six pins. Now empty handed, everyone stands in a row and bows to the audience. (They all keep on professional smiles, but it’s easy to guess how exhausted the girls and the mohawk clown must be at this point.)

--

14. MISER’S DRINKS & DROPS

The newly arrived afro clown is the one to lift the tube this time, and out comes not a ball, not a pin, not the flag of Japan… but a bottle of beer.  He knocks on it to show that it’s real glass, then turns it around and shakes vigorously. Not even a drop comes out.

However, when he picks up a glass and tilts the bottle above it, what looks like beer comes pouring out in plenty. Using the same bottle he then fills another glass, and another, and another, and as he goes on he puts away the filled glasses on top of one of the trays held by the mohawk clown. Sixth, seventh, eighth glass... In the end, a giant tray worth of glasses is filled with just one bottle, and the mohawk clown takes them into the auditorium, asking the adult audience members to help themselves. Since many people won’t say no to a free drink, the liquid is quickly confirmed to be authentic beer. As one clown distributes the drinks, the other keeps pouring, and this time it’s one of the girls who takes a full tray into the audience. There are still some empty glasses left, so after the afro clown fills them, the remaining two girls simply grab the table from both sides and haul it around like yet another tray.

The only one left on stage is now the afro clown, who turns the infinite beer bottle upside down… and not even a drop comes out. He takes off his tricorn hat, shows the audience that it’s empty, puts the bottle inside, tosses the hat in the air, catches it, and when he once again shows everyone its interior, the bottle has disappeared.

The bell hammer is lowered to the stage, allowing Koyomi and Kotensui to disembark before it takes to the heavens again. The afro clown lifts them both up so they can sit on his shoulders instead.

“Oh, looking at all that beer I’m getting thirsty too!” Kotensui says.

“We're children, we can’t drink beer!” Koyomi lectures. "Hm, but I would like to get something too…"

The afro clown sets the two of them back down, takes off his tricorn hat again and shows everyone that it’s empty. He gestures at the children to stick their hands out, shakes the hat above them, and out comes pouring candy, many little drops in colorful wrappers. Seeing them eat the sweets (or pretending to eat in Kotensui’s case), many children in the audience start demanding candy too, so the clown grabs entire handfuls out of his hat and throws them around,  eventually walking down the auditorium so even the back rows can get some.

--

15. RISING FLAG CARD

While the audience is busy eating and drinking, stagehands bring in a two-meter-tall box looking like it would contain a giant version of a deck of playing cards. Judging from the art on the box, the back of each card bears a cartoonish portrayal of the Earth in space, done in a blue and white two-tone style. Additionally, a normal-sized deck of cards is put on the table.

“I’m sorry to break the relaxed mood, but I still have a bit of magic to show you,” Koyomi tells the audience. “Actually, it’s more like just a tiny show of sleight-of-hand.” She spreads a bunch of the normal-sized cards in a fan, showing that their backs portray the same cartoonish Earth.

“What are these, Koyomi?” Kotensui asks curiously.

“These? They’re national flag cards!” She turns them around and the audience can see their fronts portray flags of different countries.

“Ohh, it has all the world’s flags?”

“Not all of them, there’s too many countries for that. We have exactly fifty four flags here.” She returns her cards to the pile and gives it a shuffle. “Now, I’m going to pick up a few cards from the top. I’ll show everyone the cards I got, one by one, and then put them aside. If anyone knows what country a flag belongs to, please shout its name loud so I can hear! You too, Kotensui! Also, please make sure to quietly keep count of how many cards I’ll have shown.” She is about to begin, but hesitates. “Wait, Kotensui, it’s cheating if you stand right next to me behind the table. Go sit in front of it instead.” Kotensui listens and plops down in front of the table, his back to the audience, watching Koyomi as intently as everyone else.

Koyomi picks up a few cards, takes one and shows it to the audience. A red circle on white background.

“Japan!” yells everyone including Kotensui.

Nodding, Koyomi puts the Japan card down on the table and shows everyone the next one: a red maple leaf on white background, a red vertical stripe to each side.

“Canada!”

The third card: a red square with a white cross in the center.

“Switzerland!”

The fourth card: two horizontal stripes, the top one red and the bottom one white.

“Indonesia!” (But can also apply to Monaco, as Koyomi explains.)

The fifth card: looking just like the last one, except with a white crescent moon and five stars on the red stripe.

“Singapore!” (The audience is by now a little surprised that little Kotensui got them all right so far. Even if he’s one of the troupe’s men… or rather, one of the troupe’s puppets, wouldn’t he still need to perfectly memorize all those flags?)

Sixth card: a white crescent moon and a star on red background.

“Turkey!”

Seventh card: two horizontal stripes, but this time the top one is white and the bottom one red.

“Poland!” (Only a few people guess this one correctly, among them Kotensui.)

Eighth card: three horizontal stripes, red-white-red.

“Austria!”

Ninth card: a white circle on red background, inside the circle a red crescent moon and a star.

“Tunisia!” (Once again, only a few people are shouting.)

“This next one may be a little hard to guess, since they only gained independence a few years ago,” Koyomi says and shows the tenth card: mostly red, but in the left corner is a small white rectangle with a red cross inside. It does seem to pose a challenge, as barely anyone shouts its name, Kotensui among them.

“Tonga!”

“Last one!” Koyomi shows the last card she’s holding: red background and two white stripes creating a cross, their meeting point offset slightly to the left.

“Denmark!”

With this, Koyomi puts the last card on the little pile to the side and asks the audience to remind her how many country flags they went through.

Most of the audience promptly answers “eleven!”, though more careful spectators give a hesitant “twelve…?”, considering that the flag of Indonesia is also a flag of Monaco, so counts as two.

“It seems you aren't sure, so let’s count them together!” Koyomi picks up the little pile, then starts putting the cards back on the table one by one.

“One!” everyone counts. “Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! Ele—” But just as everyone starts to say “eleven”, they realize that Koyomi’s hands are already empty.

“Huh? Why only ten?” Kotensui voices everyone’s surprise.

“It’s very simple. Let me explain it, so you can all try it yourself later!” She picks up the card with the flag of Indonesia. “Those of you who said “twelve” earlier counted this flag as belonging to two different countries, right? Indonesia and Monaco. But the truth is… it belongs to three countries!” She rotates the card 180 degrees, the red and white stripes switching their places… which makes it the flag of Poland. “See, after I showed you this card and acted like I'm putting it on the table, I actually sneaked it back into the pile in my hand. Then I showed it again, just upside down. By the way, if you’d like a deck like this to fool your friends, we have some in the shop booth outside the tent, detailed instructions included. Now that we’re done with that little illusion… here comes the actual magic! But first, I’ll need a person from the audience. I think I’ll choose them through a little game this time!”

“Ohh, a game?” Kotensui seems excited. “What is it, what is it?”

“Once again, I’m going to pick up a few cards and show them one by one. If you know what country the flag shown belongs to, you pass to the next round and can keep guessing. But if you guess wrong, you’re eliminated! I’ll keep showing you flags until everyone but one person gets eliminated, and that last person standing will get to assist me on stage!”

“That seems like fun!”

“It is fun! But, Kotensui… you know all the flags, don’t you?”

“All of them! I can speak the world’s many languages, too!” (It seems impossible that any child his age could speak more than two, maybe three languages… but since he is a puppet in a show, the audience seems ready to accept this as part of the setting.)

“You can? Then I have a request for you! You won't be guessing countries this time. But after the audience gives the right answer, you will greet them in the main language of that country!”

“Oh, that’s simple! Let’s start already!”

And so, once Koyomi shows the first card and everyone yells “USA!”, Kotensui wishes everyone a “Good afternoon!” in English, with perfect native accent to boot. The next card is shown, the audience yells “Soviet Union!”, and in return Kotensui greets them with a “Dobriy den!” in impeccable Russian. More flags and languages follow, slowly switching from well-known—China, Germany, France, Italy, Spain—to more and more obscure ones, Kotensui keeping up with greeting everyone in perfect native accents of so many languages. The audience members progressively get eliminated, until only one person guesses the final, fifteenth flag of Kenya.

The last person standing is a man in his thirties, who unsurprisingly turns out to be a local geography teacher (and judging by whooping and whistling from the audience, some of his students are here too). Koyomi asks him to confirm for the audience that it’s the first time he’s met the two kid performers.

“Kotensui and I will both turn around now,” Koyomi says and they swiftly do just that, “and while we’re looking away, please pick any card from the deck. Choose any flag you like.”

“Alright, I just pick one…” The teacher approaches the table, seems to hesitate for a second, then picks up the deck and shuffles through it for a bit before settling on a card. “Uh… okay, then… I picked it.”

“Please show the flag to everyone but us.”

The teacher quietly shows everyone his pick: the well-known flag of Japan.

“We’re going to turn around now. Please hold your card face-first against your chest, so we can’t see which flag it is yet.” The kids allow the teacher a moment to press the card to his chest, then turn around. “Thank you. Now, while I think everyone has already guessed it, I should explain what that big box is: it’s also a deck of national flag cards. Using this deck, I’m going to find the bigger version of the card that has just been picked! Ah, but first—Kotensui, could you turn the box around?”

Kotensui turns the box around to show everyone its other side that says simply “NATIONAL FLAG CARDS”. It seems that whichever card comes out of the box, it will be facing the audience with its flag side.

Koyomi retrieves a normal-sized sealed deck of cards from her pocket, then takes out and shows a few cards to the audience so everyone can confirm they are also flag cards. She spreads a multitude of those cards in a giant fan and, without her touching it, one of the cards starts to slowly rise, peeking over the rest, and on its front is… the flag of South Korea. As this is going on, the giant deck opens and from the inside rises on its own… a bigger version of the card with the flag of South Korea.

“Your choice was South Korea!” Koyomi exclaims, then finally catches on to the awkward silence. “Huh? Was I wrong?... What card did you choose, sir?”

“Japan…”

“Japan? Understood! Everyone, keep your eyes on the big card now!”

As the audience looks on, the card suddenly starts changing: the black trigrams shorten and disappear, the blue half of the circle grows red… until it looks exactly like the flag of Japan! Not only that, when the audience turns their attention back to Koyomi, they notice the small card that sticks out has also turned into the flag of Japan.

“There we go.” Koyomi turns to the teacher. “Could you show us the card you picked, sir? Just to confirm it matches.”

The teacher finally uncovers the card he’s been holding to his chest, glances at it... and his jaw drops, because the flag on it is no longer that of Japan, but of South Korea. Koyomi thanks him for the assistance and lets him take the transformed card home as a souvenir.

--

16. WATCH & SKETCH CONTROL

The stagehands take away all the small and big decks, in exchange leaving a large sketchbook and a black marker on the table.

“That was amazing, Koyomi!” Kotensui cheers. “What are we going to do now?”

“Hmm… for this next part, I think I’ll need three members of the audience. And here’s how I’ll choose them: I’m going to start listing personal attributes, like “wears glasses” or “is an adult woman”. If you don’t match an attribute, you get eliminated, so in the end there should be only one person left who fulfills all the criteria. We’ll do it three times, so don’t lose hope if you don’t get chosen at first! Okay, let’s begin! First… I see a lot of families in the audience today, but I’d like to pick someone who hasn’t brought any family members with them… who is also an older man, in his forties… who does not wear glasses… who thinks his name is unusual… and who came here from a prefecture far away.”

With this, only one person is left: a middle-aged man dressed with a very poor sense of fashion, who says that he came here all the way from Kyoto for important job reasons.

Koyomi picks up the sketchbook, opens it on a blank page and holds it so the audience can see. It’s so big in comparison to the girl that she has to prop it from behind with one arm.

“I’m going to draw a simple picture now. Once I’m done, please tell me what you think it is.” Using the black marker she draws a big circle.

“It’s a normal circle,” the man says at first, then seems to change his mind. “No, it’s the flag of Japan.”

“The flag of Japan? Certainly it would look that way, was the circle red. Now I’m going to add something…” She draws an arrow inside the circle. “What do you see now?”

“It’s a clock, or maybe a scale…”

“A clock or a scale?”

“Let’s go with the clock."

"Alright. Could you please look at your watch and tell me what time it shows right now?”

“I’m afraid my watch is five minutes early, but it shows 3:52.”

“Okay! Let me draw this hour on the clock.” She adds the minute hand and the hour hand, so the drawn clock now shows more or less 3:52. “Thank you for your cooperation! You can go back to your seat now.” But just as the man scuttles away and sits down, she adds: “But before that, please list the criteria for the next chosen member of the audience!” The man immediately stands back up with a troubled expression, but eventually complies and starts listing his criteria.

The next person chosen is a grade school student, who is a girl, who wears glasses, and who has never before seen a magic show.

“Please tell me what your favorite hour and minute is,” Koyomi requests. “Any time will do! Aside from 3:52, that is.”

“Um… 10:12?”

This time, Koyomi doesn’t add anything on the clock, but writes a big 10:12 below it.

The girl chooses the last person: someone who is left-handed, with blood type AB, and with no cavities, which leaves a single male high schooler standing.

“Alright, now please look closely at the clock.”

Everyone’s attention is now on the clock, and suddenly—the drawn arrows start to move around the circle like real clock hands. Koyomi shifts her position, so the audience can’t see where exactly the hands are.

“Say stop at any moment you like!” she prompts the high schooler. “Any moment at all.”

“O-okay, then… stop!”

The instant he says it, Koyomi lets everyone see the clock again. Its hands are no longer moving, and the hour they stopped at is 10:12, the same time as the one written below.

That’s not the end of surprises: Koyomi somehow pulls out an actual, real clock from behind the sketchbook and sets it down on the table. Its hands are also pointing to 10:12, frozen in place as if the battery died.

Finally, Koyomi moves her hand over the sketchbook page… and the drawn clock magically fills in with red. Just like that middle-aged man from Kyoto said, it really is a flag of Japan! Koyomi rips out that page from the sketchbook and announces that everyone will be able to inspect it at the exit after the show.

--

17. CARP SCALING THE WATERFALL

The audience is naturally a little tired at this point, seeing as the show has been going on for quite a while. Koyomi comments on this and tells everyone not to worry: there is just one last illusion left.

The sketchbook is taken away, and instead the stagehands bring in an empty milk bottle, an empty wine glass, and a pitcher with water, putting them on the table next to the clock. Additionally, a fish tank filled with water (but no fish in sight) is pushed in on a little table with wheels. The tank is about a meter wide, half a meter tall, which may not seem that big, but since the two kids are so small, any of them could probably fit inside.

“We’ve done a lot of magic today,” Koyomi says. “Aren’t you tired, Kotensui?”

“Not at all!”

“Oh, right. You are a puppet, after all.”

“A puppet can get tired too, you know.”

“You mean the person moving you?”

“What ‘person moving me’? I’m the one moving myself.”

“There has to be someone else controlling you.”

“There’s no such person! I mean, where would they even be?”

They both look up with curiosity, but don’t seem to spot anyone, and as far as the audience can see, no obvious strings are hanging down.

“Alright, fine,” Koyomi sighs and starts preparing the next illusion.

She shows the pitcher of water and the empty milk bottle to the audience. There doesn’t seem to be anything strange about them. She gives Kotensui the bottle to hold, then pours in some water from the pitcher… and once it finds itself in the bottle, the water turns white like milk. Next, Kotensui holds the wine glass, and Koyomi once more pours some water in… and it turns red like wine.

“I have a question for you, Kotensui. What do you think is going to happen if I pour both of these into the tank?” Koyomi asks, holding the bottle of milk in one hand and the glass of wine in the other.

“Um… a really weird color mix? There’s a lot of water in the tank, so the color may be a little faint…”

“Well, let’s try and see!” She pours in the milk first, and the white color spreads all throughout the tank. Then she adds the wine, and starting from the place it was poured in, the liquid in the tank slowly turns… transparent again. However, there is now a beautiful red-and-white koi carp swimming inside.

“Were you surprised, Kotensui?” she asks.

“Very surprised! But it can’t be where the trick ends, can it?”

“Of course not! I’m just getting started.” Koyomi pushes the tank on wheels towards the back of the stage, where it’s soon hidden behind the big projection screen from the beginning of the show. All the normal lights but the one behind the tank are turned off, making the giant shadows of the tank and the gracefully swimming carp inside clearly projected on the screen. Besides that there’s just a little spotlight on Koyomi and Kotensui, who are still standing in front of the screen.

“Do you know the legend about a carp that climbed a waterfall?” Koyomi begins. “There is a big river in China, the Yellow River. It has a waterfall called the Dragon Gate, and the legend says that if a carp climbs all the way up that waterfall, it will turn into a dragon. Since this is just a legend, there is no way a carp can actually turn into a dragon… but wouldn’t it be wonderful? Let’s watch, everyone...”

The spotlight on them vanishes, leaving only the projected image among the darkness. At first nothing happens, but then—with a sound like a crashing wave, a tall pillar of water suddenly rises from the tank towards the heavens, the carp rising together with it. The pillar stops for a second, as if taking a breath, and then shoots up again, roaring like a waterfall and splashing water around. As the carp once again moves upwards, suddenly its shape starts to change, grows bigger and elongated like a serpentine dragon, until with a deafening roar it shoots up, towards the ceiling of the tent—and at the moment it collides with it, the entire tent shakes as if in an earthquake. The dragon seems to burst through the ceiling, taking into the skies and disappearing from the projection screen.

The screen is lifted, revealing that the previously small water tank is now a round glass pillar so giant that indeed a dragon could have fit inside, about 10 meters in diameter and 3 meters in height. There’s just a little bit of water left inside.

That’s not the only change: the previously black curtain in the back now bears black-and-white stripes, just like those used at funerals.

There's a quiet sound like water droplets falling on the tent’s material. It’s quickly intensifying, as if it’s just started raining outside. The intense rain even enters the tent, presumably through the hole left by the escaping dragon, water mercilessly beating against the stage and flowing down to the little moat surrounding it.

“Wah, it’s raining!” Kotensui shouts flailing his arms in panic.

“Kotensui, here! Quickly!” Koyomi produces a big flower-printed umbrella out of nowhere. Kotensui quickly ducks underneath it (which shouldn’t be possible, considering the puppet’s strings should catch on the umbrella, but somehow it works.)

“Why is it raining inside, Koyomi?!”

“It’s the dragon! The dragon is sending down rain!”

The children turn away from the audience and look up at the giant tank, which starts to slowly fill with falling water. The umbrella is so big in comparison to the kids that it shields their upper bodies from view.

As the rain is falling, the clock on the table comes to life, its hands moving quickly as if time itself was put in fast-forward. Finally, the raging rain lessens and stops, and the clock’s hands once more go still. The giant tank is now filled with water.

Finally safe from the rain, Koyomi lowers the umbrella…

...and is now an adult woman.

--

18. SWING WITH NO STRING

Tensui’s beautiful assistant sets the open umbrella on the ground to let it dry.

“The lady who disappeared!” Kotensui seems as shocked as the audience. The assistant bends forward to be at eye level with him.

“You’re the boy from earlier… how do you know my name?”

“Huh? I don’t know your name!”

“But you just said it: Koyomi.”

“You’re Koyomi too?!”

“What do you mean, too?”

“There was another, smaller Koyomi!”

“There’s only one Koyomi here, and that’s me. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming just now? By the way, have you seen that man I talked about earlier? A splendid man called Soga Tensui, dressed in the same outfit as you.”

“I haven’t seen him.”

“Strange… you know, you look a lot like he did as a child. But now that I think about it… I can’t remember it well, but I think that when I myself was a child, I used to play with a puppet of a boy, one very similar to you. Maybe that really was you? Puppets can’t grow any older, after all.”

“They can’t grow any older...?”

Adult Koyomi picks up the umbrella once more, revealing a small stool has appeared behind it along with a roll of adhesive tape. She picks up the tape and uses it to affix all four legs of the stool to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Kotensui asks.

“If I don’t secure it, it may be dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What may be dangerous?”

Koyomi sits down on the chair, umbrella in hand.

“Sometimes, I think... that I would like to go back to when I was a child. But no one can turn back time. That’s why I’m jealous of you, who will always stay a child.” She shields herself from the audience with her umbrella and pulls her legs up so she cannot be seen. The umbrella turns once, twice, thrice and falls to the ground, leaving an empty stool behind.

“Koyomi? Where are you?!” Kotensui picks up the umbrella confused, then—

“Kotensui, watch out!” comes Koyomi’s shout through the speakers—not the adult assistant’s voice, but the little girl’s. “Look up!”

Suddenly, the giant Press Hammer is falling down!

Hearing Koyomi’s warning, Kotensui manages to run away in time, but the chair is smashed into pieces. Once it had proven its destructive force in this way, the Press Hammer is slowly lifted once more.

“Koyomi, where are you?” Kotensui shouts, apparently concerned more about her well-being than about his own near-death experience. “Koyomi! Where have you disappeared to?!”

There is no answer. The lights around go out, leaving only a lonely spotlight for Kotensui as he sadly walks around searching. The bell hammer is lowered down, so Kotensui sits on it and starts slowly swinging left and right (just how a temple bell hammer like that moves), followed closely by the spotlight. Kontensui’s taking only half of the big bell hammer, holding the rope with his right hand, the place next to him depressingly empty. A lonely child in an empty playground.

“Everyone went away somewhere…” Kotensui laments. “Time passes and the world changes. But I don’t change at all…” The bell hammer swings a bit stronger and is at once slowly being lifted in the air. “No, even if I’m a puppet, I should be changing a little. Nothing in this world is unchanging. Even a puppet will break one day.” The bell hammer is now several meters in the air, rocking strongly from side to side, assisted by quiet sounds similar to metronome’s ticks.

Below, another spotlight shines on the clock left on the table. Its hands are moving again, as if the swinging bell hammer really is a pendulum measuring time, its ticking representing passing seconds. For a while, nothing else is happening.

Then the sound of ticking suddenly goes quiet, and what comes through the speakers next—

—is Kotensui’s horrified scream as the rope he's holding onto snaps where it connects to the bell hammer, causing it to slip away from under him.

Fortunately, Kotensui's right hand gets tangled in the rope, keeping him from falling. The bell hammer swings away still suspended with the other rope. But since the entire construction has just been swinging strongly to the sides, the power of inertia sends the heavy bell hammer and Kotensui flying towards each other on a collision course. Kotensui manages to spin around on the rope and avoids a tragedy by the breadth of hair. He gets away a second time, a third time, and finally their movements slow down enough that he’s safe from the hammer.

Before long the rope holding the bell hammer also snaps, letting it fall down to the dark stage, a loud splash of water suggesting it has fallen right into the giant water tank. A spotlight highlighting the tank is quickly turned on, and there really is something in the water now—but not a lifeless bell hammer; instead, it has transformed into a real, deadly hammer shark, swimming in an open tank just a few meters under struggling Kotensui.

Even though the audience knows Kotensui is a puppet, even though they know he’s just a doll with a boy’s voice, he still looks and acts like a little child and no one wants to see him fall down and be torn apart. As the audience watches in fear, the rope holding Kotensui finally untwists and he falls down straight into the darkness between his spotlight and the tank, his scream mixing with the audience’s.

But no splash can be heard. Kotensui doesn't fall into the tank. For a moment, things are completely quiet.

Then another spotlight shines just above the tank, showing someone miraculously standing on water: a man with elegant jet-black hair and a thin Kaiser moustache, wearing a black diving suit this time—and cradling little Kotensui to his chest.

With the puppet safe in his arms, Soga Tensui first walks on water to the edge of the tank, then—simply keeps on walking, now stepping on thin air, as if smoothly descending an invisible hill back to the stage. It’s a splendid demonstration of his two most famous illusions, Sea Walk and Sky Walk.

--

19. NOSTALGIC ILLUSION

“Wah, this was so scary!” Kotensui says as he’s still being held in Tensui’s arms. “I almost fell! Thank you so much for saving me! But… who are you? The man that Koyomi was looking for?”

Tensui simply nods and sets Kotensui down.

“So you’re Mr. Tensui… um, are we related somehow?”

Tensui’s mouth still doesn’t move, but a new voice comes through the speakers. Refined, deep, it fits the man perfectly.

“You are my past, Kotensui,” the voice says.

“I am… your past? What do you mean?” But I’m just me!, Kotensui’s body language seems to be saying.

“Ever since I was your age, I have been standing on the stage of illusion, just like today showing the audience my magic. Several decades have passed... I continue to stand on the stage. That innocent little boy I was is still there inside me, deep on the bottom of my heart. That boy is you. You are my precious past itself. Even now, you remain in my heart.”

“I… I don’t really understand…”

“It’s fine if you don’t. You’re still a child… no, you will always stay a child.”

“Because I’m a puppet and I can’t grow old?”

Tensui lightly shakes his head, his expression gentle.

“Because everyone holds the child they once were deep inside their heart. No matter how old they may grow, this will never change.” His voice sounds honest, as if he’s speaking from the depths of his soul. “Back when I was just starting my life on the stage, a certain magician showed me something I will never forget: the underwater escape. That scene I saw as a child has stayed with me forever, and I wished with all my heart that one day, when I grew up, I would revive that magic myself. After several decades, the time has finally come. I want to show you the underwater escape that charmed me so much when I was a child.”

Stagehands appear again, first putting a few light stands around the stage to provide atmospheric lighting, then bringing in a three-meter-tall round cage without a ceiling.

“The most famous escapologist in the history of magic, Harry Houdini, has performed many escapes from perilous situations throughout his life. Among them was his specialty, underwater escapes, and many after him kept their fame alive. However, out of all the underwater escapes I have seen throughout the years, the one I witnessed as a child was, without a doubt, performed in the most severe circumstances…”

Tensui lets himself be handcuffed, then steps inside the cage. The stagehands wrap two heavy chains around his entire body, affixing it to two opposite walls of the cage in the process. The stagehands leave locking the door; the only way out of the cage is now up. Next, suspension hooks are attached to the cage, and soon it's lifted up and moved over the shark tank. The black-and-white funeral curtain in the background now seems a dark omen of things to come.

“The magician was handcuffed and tied with chains inside a cage, which was then dropped into a tank with a starving man-eating shark. He had exactly three minutes to escape. After three minutes, a giant press hammer would fall down and kill him. The opening at the top of the cage was just big enough to allow its passage.”

The deadly Press Hammer is moved to hang above the cage and lowered to about halfway through its height, demonstrating that it can indeed fit through. It almost touches Tensui’s calm face as he looks up at it. The Press Hammer is lifted again, looming over the scene.

“The timer will now be set to three minutes,” Tensui’s voice says as a stagehand fiddles with the clock on the table. “To make sure the last rows can see it easily, these three minutes will be shown like three hours, the hand starting at nine and ending at twelve.”

The cage is slowly lowered, submerging Tensui up to his neck.

“Please know that there is no secret hole in the cage or the tank. There is but one way to escape: to get out of the chains and the cage in under three minutes, then reach the edge of the tank while avoiding the shark. I will now perform the most unforgiving underwater escape in history. Let us begin.”

The cage sinks to the very bottom of the tank, which makes it fit perfectly under the surface. The timer starts.

Tensui instantly starts to move, attempting to take off the chains, but doesn’t seem successful in his efforts for a good half a minute. Only two and a half minute left. The hungry hammer shark attempts to charge the cage, but it’s sturdy enough to withstand the attack with ease. Tensui is still bound, struggling with the chains.

Just as the first minutes passes, the Press Hammer starts its deadly descent, pausing about three meters above the cage.

Tensui manages to get his left hand out of the handcuffs and tugs at the chains, but they’re still binding him tightly. One and a half minute left, and he gets his right hand free too, but the chains still won’t yield. He wriggles and pulls at them, but all he achieves is that his left arm gets twisted behind him in a painful-looking manner, making him grimace in suffering. But with this movement he apparently finds the opening he was looking for, gets both his arms free and starts working on the chains.

The second minute has passed. The Press Hammer descends once more, stopping right above the cage, only a small space of air left between it and the water level. If allowed to make its next move, it will certainly kill.

When Tensui finally manages to untie all the chains, only thirty second are left. Swimming up he’s able to breach the surface and catch a breath, but the Press Hammer has already descended so low that he may not be able to squeeze through the gap between it and the cage’s wall. When he attempts it anyway, the shark immediately attacks, forcing him to retreat. Tensui takes one last breath, still with perfect composure dives to the bottom of the cage and moves his hands over the walls, as if trying to find something. He strikes at the cage’s door, but it won’t open. He attempts to do something with the cage’s bottom, but it won’t budge either. Suddenly he stops in his tracks, looks up at the Press Hammer looming above him—

Ten seconds left, nine seconds, eight seconds—

Tensui crosses his arms in front of his face and curls his knees up to his chest, making himself as small as possible—

Four seconds—three—two—one—

The Press Hammer falls.

Its final descent creates a milliard of bubbles obscuring the view and causes gallons of water to rush out of the tank with a splash. The clock hand stops.

The audience looks on speechless, fearing what they’re about to see once the bubbles clear. As if sensing the tragedy, the lights on the stage go out, leaving the tent in darkness.

The very next moment, a spotlight is directed at an aisle near the back of the auditorium, and standing there is a very wet, but very much alive Soga Tensui.

Tensui walks down the auditorium among a standing ovation, at one point starting to nonchalantly walk in the air to get back on the stage...

...where the black-and-white colors of the funeral curtain in an instant change to a happy, triumphant red-and-white.

“That was amazing, Mr. Tensui!” Kotensui’s entire body language expresses joy. “Amazing!”

Tensui and the puppet shake hands, then bow deeply to the audience several times. Finally, Tensui leaves the stage, and little Kotensui puts both his hands up, as if asking the audience to listen to just one more thing. Everyone obediently falls silent.

The puppet holds his head between his hands, spins it around 360 degrees, lifts it completely off his shoulders…

...and from underneath it peeks out a face of a real living boy, who looks exactly like Kotensui.

“Ah, it really was so much fun!” comes Kotensui’s voice from the speakers as the tiny boy gives the shocked audience a satisfied, relaxed smile.

The spotlight dims slowly, finally bringing the wondrous show of magic to its end.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[madin-din]

[ ECLIPSE ]

fandom: boku no hero academia pairing: tododeku words: 1.7k

notes: a story about finding the truth, finding a home, and somewhere in between all that: falling. in love.

listen... there is so much potential for the sun and moon dichotomy here. i can only hope i did it justice. 

— 

Chapter 1: The Sun

Midoriya is not how Todoroki expected a Moon Kingdom citizen to look. He has hair the colour of life, vibrant green and untamed and nothing like the various shades of red and orange Todoroki’s used to seeing on this side of the Wall. The freckles patterned on his face could very well be made of moon particles themselves, and beneath the sunlight, they almost seem to sparkle.

Todoroki Shouto from the Sun Kingdom meets Midoriya Izuku from the Moon Kingdom.

read on ao3 || buy me a kofi

Even after sixteen full cycles, Todoroki Shouto still doesn’t feel like he belongs under the Sun.

Being born to the Sun King himself, Todoroki is arguably more solar than any other citizen in the kingdom. His flame-red hair is a striking inheritance from his father, and if that isn’t enough to officially label him as someone who lives under the Sun, then the natural affinity he has with fire leaves no room for discussion: Todoroki Shouto comes from the Sun Kingdom.

And yet—his skin is paler than most, even though it should be golden and tanned by now, at sixteen spans old, like everyone else. Underneath the contacts his father forces him to wear, his left eye is blue rather than brown, a ring of ice circling around his pupil. And on the rare occasions that it rains, he feels drawn to the water almost as much as he is to fire; if he reaches out to touch the droplets falling from the sky, he might even be able to solidify them, control them.

It has been years, decades, since the Sun cast out the Moon long ago. The Wall between the two kingdoms shows the strength of how the Sun can exist independently and Endeavor takes pride in his kingdom’s ability to thrive without help from the Moon.

But Todoroki has always, always been fascinated by the Moon. He knows the tales just like anyone else, about how the Moon Kingdom is a wasteland now that there is no contact with the Sun. The people there are said to be skin and bones, weak and fragile from the lack of sunlight. They are barely surviving because crops need nourishment from the Sun and the dim glow of the Moon just isn’t enough to sustain life. It’s only a matter of time before the Moon Kingdom citizens die out, his father tells him.

That can’t be true, though. If they’ve managed to last this long without the Sun, Todoroki knows that they must have figured out a different way to stay alive.

☼

The Sun Festival starts as it always does, with Todoroki standing on a raised platform in the middle of the capital’s marketplace. He’s dressed in traditional clothing, loose pants and red robes wrapped around his waist, and he holds two strings of ribbons in each of his hands. It doesn’t take long for a crowd to gather as the music of drums signals the start of the ceremony.

Todoroki raises his arms to wait for the beat that indicates the beginning of his performance. Near the back of the audience, he sees his father, the Sun King, watching him with the intensity of solar flares in his eyes.

Inhaling, he begins to dance.

His movements are small at first, just pacing around the stage while casually waving his batons, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. When the music picks up, he leaps into action, flicking his wrists to create a series of small circles with the ribbons before using the momentum to twist his body, spinning into pirouettes. Red and orange colours swirl around him like twin wheels of fire and his heart beats in rhythm to the drums in the background.

The audience follows his routine with warm cheers and little dances of their own, the people themselves becoming songs in front of his very eyes. He bends low, snaking the ribbons along the floor, preparing for a jump. This part of Sun Kingdom tradition, he thinks, is one that he has always enjoyed.

The end of the dance is marked by Todoroki tossing the ribbons up in the air, catching both of them with one hand, and sweeping into a deep bow all in a single, fluid movement. By the time he walks off stage, the sun is at the highest point in the sky, and the festival officially begins.

☼

He gazes up at the clouds above his head, at the Wall that encircles the land, and just as he’s about to turn away, he blinks.

What he sees must be a mistake because, squinting up against the sunlight, Todoroki makes out the shadow of a person standing on top of the Wall.

☼

The Wall is at least thirty meters above the ground and Todoroki has never heard of anyone who has tried to climb it before—even young children know better than to use the Wall as a playground. And yet, the silhouette he’s looking at now stands at the highest point closest to the sun, and begins descending.

Todoroki has to admit that it’s a feat as impressive as it is reckless.

Entranced, he makes his way over to the Wall himself, head tilted back to follow the movements. He witnesses the exact moment the shadow stumbles, loses their footing, falls—down, down, down.

In that moment, Todoroki moves purely out of instinct, running to the edge of the Wall with his arms outstretched as though he plans to catch the person. He can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, palms starting to flare up uncontrollably at the thought of watching someone crashing to their death right in front of him.

The person—a boy, Todoroki sees now—plummets head-first like a rock tossed in water, and for a terrifying moment, Todoroki is sure he’s going to crack open his skull. But just before hitting the ground, he manages to maneuver himself midair in time to land on his feet, bending low to absorb the impact of the fall. He straightens back up, barely even affected, and Todoroki watches in bewilderment as he takes in the surroundings.

They lock eyes.

Swallowing, Todoroki can’t help but stare at the stranger. He’s never seen eyes like his before. Eyes that glow.

“Can you take me to All Might?” The boy blurts out, walking closer. There’s no greeting, no explanation as to why he was standing on top of the Wall; only—determination.

It takes Todoroki a few seconds to register the words, blinking out of his trance. All Might. He hasn’t heard that name in years, and any Sun Kingdom citizen would know not to mention it under Endeavor’s reign. Narrowing his gaze at the stranger in front of him, he asks, cautiously, “You’re not from… here. Are you?”

For a moment, panic flashes in the boy’s eyes. Then, he smiles sheepishly, hands fidgeting with nervousness. “Are you going to turn me in?”

And although it’s not a verbal acknowledgement, it’s a confirmation all the same. This boy, who climbed to the top of the Wall and somehow sustained only minimal injuries after falling to the ground, is not someone from the Sun Kingdom.

Which can only mean one thing: he’s from the Moon Kingdom.

“All Might is dead,” Todoroki says instead of answering the question. He watches the boy carefully, observing every micromovement on his face in attempt to discern whether he’s a threat or not.

“O-oh…” The boy looks to the floor and Todoroki guesses that whatever information he’s heard about the people of the Sun must be extremely outdated. “Do you know if he really parted the clouds during the Year of Darkness?”

There is that glow in his eyes again, Todoroki notices as his heart does something funny. He nods once, expression controlled. “He did.”

The Year of Darkness is a moment in history that is taught to every Sun Kingdom citizen, a tale of bravery and heroism displayed by their previous King. When the skies had become dark for so long and people started dying due to the lack of sunlight, All Might had gathered a team of people from both sides of the Wall to chase away the clouds. It is the only incidence in the past century that Todoroki can recall the Sun and Moon Kingdoms setting aside their differences to accomplish a common goal.

On that day, All Might had become the Symbol of Light, named after the very first rays of sunlight that passed through the clouds that year.

Todoroki supposes it’s not a surprise that All Might is well-known by Moon Kingdom citizens as well.

“I guess I came all the way here for nothing,” the boy laughs, nervous energy all around. He scratches at the back of his head before stretching out a hand in greeting. “My name is Midoriya Izuku, by the way!”

Cautiously, Todoroki reaches out his own hand. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“Todoroki,” the boy says, testing the name on his tongue. His face breaks into a smile. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

Inspecting him now, Midoriya Izuku is not how Todoroki expected a Moon Kingdom citizen to look. He has hair the colour of life, vibrant green and untamed and nothing like the various shades of red and orange Todoroki’s used to seeing on this side of the Wall. The freckles patterned on his face could very well be made of moon particles themselves, and beneath the sunlight, they almost seem to sparkle. ­

In the distance, he hears chatter and footsteps; the sound of people coming their way. He doesn’t need to ask to know what would happen if they find a Moon Kingdom citizen on this side of the wall—capture, imprisonment. Execution.

“Midoriya,” he whispers urgently, “you should go.”

“—Yeah.” He looks like he’s about to say something before cutting himself off. Then, as if suddenly struck by an idea, he stops abruptly in his tracks and turns back to face Todoroki. “Do you—want to come with me?”

The words are shy when Midoriya says them but something in his eyes tell Todoroki that he likes the adventure, the thrill.

Todoroki opens his mouth to answer before closing it again. He thinks of the kingdom he’s lived in his whole life and an entire kingdom that is unknown to him, ruled by a completely different celestial body. The sun today shines as brightly as it does any other day but all he really sees is the excited glow of Midoriya’s eyes.

There are people coming closer now. If they wait any longer, they’ll be discovered.

And, well, at sixteen spans old, Todoroki thinks that he’s finally ready to see exactly what is on the other side of the Wall for himself.

[themurphyzone]

Rosieverse Oneshot: Guardian

Summary: Tino is just a simple guy who happens to play a villain in a TV show. Recently, the entire studio has become enamored by a little orphan named Rosie with a talent in voice-acting. Well, everyone except lead actor Jim Starling. 

But everyone has their beef with Starling, so it’s really no big deal. 

Or is it?

Jim Starling wasn’t happy. And when wasn’t Jim Starling happy, he was determined to make everyone else’s lives as miserable as possible. He stood on the long conference table, shouting a plan about a meet-and-greet that would surely boost his fading popularity. 

“Just picture it!” Starling exclaimed. “Look, the Fearsome Four can open the event. Five minutes signing autographs for them and no more! And then I make a fashionably late entrance dressed as Darkwing Duck! Maybe about...fifteen minutes or so after the meet-and-greet starts, we can work out the details later. But the point is, I’m there, the fans will adore yours truly, and Darkwing Duck’s ratings go through the roof! What do you think?” 

Someone coughed, but the room was otherwise full of crickets. 

Tino glanced at the lovely bonsai tree on the windowsill, half-expecting an actual cricket to jump in and chirp merrily while ruining the tiny pink leaves. Next to him, Dan sketched a rough schematic of a toaster, humming to himself and not paying attention to the meeting. Jack flipped through a report on Darkwing Duck ratings and merchandise sales, scanning through the business jargon and statistics with practiced ease. 

In Tino’s opinion, Michael was lucky he got the babysitting job. Rosie was a sweet kid and a delight to be around. Much better than listening to an egotistical celebrity prattle on about boosting his public image. 

Speaking of which...

Tino glanced at the clock. 

Almost 4:00 pm, he realized. And it was his day to drive Rosie back to the orphanage too. They needed to get going before the Audubon Bay Bridge got clogged with rush hour traffic. 

Silently, Tino put his hand up, unwilling to interrupt the argument between Starling and the director. 

“Our budget’s already been slashed, and now you want us to spend more money to fuel your ego?” 

“Just pay for the venue! The special events center maybe. I hear the Duckburg Stadium is nice this time of year too,” Starling continued to suggest expensive locations that no sane person at the studio would ever consider. “Tell ‘em to bring their own snacks though. And you could always charge some good money for an autograph, maybe a little more for a photoshoot. That oughta make up your price.” 

“This town ain’t cheap, Starling!” the director snarled. “Do you realize how much McDuck charges for the use of his locations? In case you haven’t noticed, money doesn’t grow on trees!” 

“You’re as cheap as the network!” Starling scoffed. “Sabotaging a fine art for the sake of money!” 

“I’m. Being. Realistic,” the director gritted his teeth. 

Starling stomped over to the director’s chair. Their beaks were inches away as they stared each other down, willing their opponent to cave in. 

Before it could devolve into an insult-fest, Jack cleared his throat. Immediately, everyone turned their attention to him. Even Starling recognized that it was better to listen when Jack had something to say. 

“It’s Tino’s day to drive Rosie back to the orphanage,” Jack said. “He needs to leave now.” 

Tino shot Jack a grateful look, and the corners of the dog’s mouth twitched upwards in response. 

“Wait, that brat lives in an orphanage?” Starling blinked, his beak dropping open in surprise. 

Clearly, Starling had been living under a rock. Rosie’s orphan status was common knowledge with everyone in the studio. 

At least, Tino assumed it was. 

“Not everything revolves around your universe-sized ego, dim bulb,” one of the editors muttered. 

“Don’t insult actual dim bulbs,” Dan scolded. Then his expression softened as he turned to Tino. “And say hi to Rosie for me, okay?”

“Same here,” Jack agreed. “You should get going. I’ll fill you in later, but somehow I doubt there’ll be anything worth mentioning.” 

Since nobody accomplished anything in meetings when Starling was involved, Tino knew he wouldn’t be missing anything. 

Tino hurried out of the conference room. He felt Starling’s eyes bore into his back, but he brushed it off. 

He was the only person leaving early. It was perfectly natural that everyone’s attention would be drawn to him. 

It made his skin crawl. He just wasn’t one for the spotlight. 

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

“You’ll get there! Five bounces is pretty good for a beginner!” Michael exclaimed as he showed off a rather complicated yo-yo trick that involved a lot of twirling and loops. 

Rosie smiled, a pink yo-yo dangling from a string on her finger. “Thank you, Mr. Michael,” she said formally. “Would you mind teaching me your walk the dog trick in the future?” 

Michael grinned. “No problemo! Just keep practicing with that yo-yo. I’ve got plenty more.” 

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Rosie’s eyes widened as she tried to give the yo-yo back. “It’s your toy, sir.” 

Michael shook his head, flipping into a handstand before cartwheeling away from Rosie. “Nope! No takebacks! It’s the highest law in the land!” he giggled. He caught sight of Tino and slumped to the ground, reminding Tino of a child who begged their parents for ten more minutes on the playground. “Looks like playtime’s over, kiddo.” 

“Hello, Mr. Tino!” Rosie exclaimed. “How was your meeting?” 

She hugged him enthusiastically, tiny hands squeezing his waistline and nearly knocking him off-balance. 

“Frankly, a bit boring,” Tino admitted once he adjusted his footing. “At least you and Michael are having fun.” 

Michael rolled his eyes. “What demands did the great and almighty Dumbwing make this time?” 

“Please don’t call name-call in front of Rosie,” Tino said as he ruffled Rosie’s flaming red curls. “She’s an impressionable child.”

“Fine, I’ll ask Jack later,” Michael said with a huff. His eyes flicked to Rosie, and his entire expression softened. “I get a goodbye hug too, right?” 

Rosie immediately latched onto Michael. “Don’t worry!” she chirped. “You get a goodbye hug too!” 

Michael laughed and patted her back. “I’ll be sure to pass your goodbye hugs onto Dan and Jack, okay?” 

“And Mr. Starling too!” Rosie added. 

Michael stiffened, though Rosie didn’t seem to notice. “Uh, sure. Him too.” 

Absolutely not, Michael mouthed at Tino. 

Starling loathed any form of prolonged physical contact. But Tino held his tongue, knowing he would confuse himself if he tried explaining that to a six-year-old.  

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

Much to Tino’s chagrin, they didn’t beat the rush hour traffic on the bridge. He turned the radio to a kid-friendly station and hoped the orphanage director would forgive him for being late. 

Caution was highly advised when dealing with St. Canard drivers. Really, Duckburg’s sister city was anything but saintly. 

Rosie didn’t mind though. She folded her hands in her lap, sitting like a dainty little princess upon a flower-patterned booster seat. 

“The view is pretty, Mr. Tino,” Rosie said. 

“It is,” Tino said, though he believed Audubon Bay was more dangerous than beautiful. There was a reason why crime shows loved using this body of water as a background. 

“It looks like the set of Darkwing Duck,” Rosie remarked.

“The main set was modeled off this area,” Tino said, pointing to a tower just above the toll gate. “That’s Darkwing’s lair over there.” 

Rosie craned her neck as she took in the sheer size of the tower. “Is he always up there if he’s not fighting bad guys?” she asked. “That’s awfully lonely.” 

“Darkwing Duck is the loner type,” Tino admitted. “I don’t think he minds.” 

Starling preferred doing everything himself, whether it involved thwarting crimes on a TV show or making himself the center of attention. In the best case scenario, people tolerated him. 

Still, it seemed like a lonely way to live. 

Of course, Michael and Dan would insist that Starling brought it on himself. Tino wasn’t a match for either of them when they were riled up, so he kept his beak shut on the matter. 

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

It was another hour before Tino got home from driving Rosie to the orphanage. The sunset lit up the sky in brilliant warm hues, and Tino was glad he made it home before nighttime. He didn’t like driving in the dark. 

He parked the car next to its usual spot near the mailbox, figuring that he had some time to check on his flowers before dinner. He circled the front lawn of the house, humming a bouncy tune as he checked the leaves of a violet. 

So far, everything seemed fine. The bushes wouldn’t need trimming for a while, no aphids were destroying his flowers, and the pansies were thriving. 

Before Tino could walk up to the front porch, the front door was suddenly wrenched open, bouncing off the wall with a harsh bang. 

“-AND GROW A DAMN SPINE!” Michael screeched, storming out of the house. He brushed past Tino, cursing Starling under his breath. 

Tino let him go. Michael’s temper cooled much faster when he had a few minutes to collect himself.

Dan and Jack watched Michael stomp down the sidewalk from their safe position in the hallway. 

“I’m guessing something important happened after all?” Tino asked, already dreading the answer. 

Jack nodded. “Dabble decided to use Starling’s idea for a meet-and-greet.”

Marino Dabble had the most volatile relationship with Starling out of all the directors in Darkwing Duck. He always seemed to provoke Starling during filming, disregarding any of Starling’s demands and cutting scenes whenever Starling shouted a contradicting order to keep the cameras rolling. 

“Except he wanted Rosie to be center stage,” Dan added. 

“Starling didn’t take it well,” Jack said. 

Tino wasn’t surprised, but he prayed Starling wouldn’t take his anger out on Rosie for taking his limelight. She was an innocent kid, and Dabble was putting her in the line of fire. Starling became irrational and even more temperamental when he believed someone was cutting into his screentime. 

Not for the first time, Tino wished he could be as outspoken as Michael or as respected as Jack. 

“Is that why Michael’s mad?” Tino asked. 

“I’ll go after him. He’s probably had enough time by now,” Dan said, gently pushing past Tino and hurrying out the door. 

“The meet and greet is two weeks away,” Jack said as Tino sat down at the dinner table. There was already a hot cup of tea and a strawberry salad in front of him. “We should prepare Rosie so she won’t be overwhelmed.” 

The deaths of Rosie’s parents had been widely publicized by both the Duckburg and St. Canard media. While details varied between newspapers and tabloids, the one thing that held true was that little rich girl Rosie had been left under the care of several maids while her parents had a date night. On the way back to the car, they were mugged and murdered for their money and valuables. Rosie found out the next morning, and she was shipped off to a St. Canard orphanage within a week. 

The killer was never caught. 

Several months later, a talent scout discovered Rosie’s acting abilities while searching for a suitable child to provide a voice in an animated film and introduced her to the studio. 

When Rosie wasn’t in lessons or voice-acting, she wandered over to the Darkwing Duck set, making polite small-talk with everyone she came across. Starling was the only one who ignored her presence.

He was always too caught up with himself to notice anything an inch away from his beak. 

Though Rosie only voiced a side character in the animated film, the life she breathed into the drawings captured the audience’s hearts. Tino had cried for twenty minutes straight when Rosie’s character sang a lullaby to herself after getting separated from her parents. 

Now that he gave it some thought, that part wasn’t an emotional act for Rosie. She knew those feelings all too well. 

Tino took a small bite of his strawberry, suddenly aware of Jack scrutinizing him like an interesting statistic. 

“Jack, can you please stop? It’s awkward when you do that,” Tino mumbled. 

Jack shrugged, gaze snapping to the table. “Sorry. You’re thinking about Rosie again, aren’t you?” 

“She’s...she’s a good kid,” Tino admitted. “Kinda deserves a permanent home, you know?” 

“I know,” Jack agreed, his mouth twitching. “She loves science.” 

“Just smile,” Tino suggested. “It looks good on camera.” 

“I don’t see any cameras at the moment,” Jack said as he squeezed a lemon into his water. “And besides, someone has to be the aloof, responsible one in this house.” 

Aloof. Sure, Tino snorted. 

Because aloof people totally shouted at the game show channel on TV. 

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

Tino tore the purple wig off his head and dropped onto the green room’s couch in exhaustion, shoulder still aching from Starling’s punch during filming. Dan tossed him an ice pack from the small freezer. Jack made sure they never ran out of ice packs. It was a necessity when one worked with Starling. 

Tino gratefully placed it on his shoulder. 

Michael immediately launched into a tirade on where Starling could stick his overly large fedora, but Tino was only half-listening. They’d been through this song and dance before. 

There was a safe way for actors to punch and kick in fight scenes, but Starling never held back, which led to the Fearsome Four not holding back out of self-defense, and everything just snowballed from there. 

Starling had been more irritable during filming than usual, but Tino chalked it up to a hissy fit caused by Dabble’s decision to include Rosie in the meet and greet even though she wasn’t part of the Darkwing Duck cast. 

“-AND GET ALL THE WRINKLES OUT THIS TIME!” a voice shouted from outside the green room. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Stupid incompetent wardrobe team,” Starling muttered as he swept into the room. He’d discarded the cape, but wore the rest of his Darkwing Duck costume with overblown pride. 

Starling ignored everyone as he headed straight for the fridge and pulled out a brown paper bag that contained his lunch. Tino tried not to gag at the canned tuna and sauerkraut smell. 

Dan and Michael shifted over to Tino’s side of the room, occasionally shooting livid glares at Starling. Michael’s face turned the same shade of red as his Quackerjack outfit. He was only holding back for Tino’s sake. 

Since when did Starling take his lunch in the green room anyway? He hated eating around people he believed were beneath his association. 

“I’ve never been to a beach, Mr. Jack. Is it nice?” 

“Sure is. Natural saltwater is the best. Just don’t get it in your mouth though. It doesn’t taste good.” 

Jack neatly hung his coat on a row of hooks next to the door. Rosie tried to follow his lead, though she was too short to hang it herself. 

“May I take your jacket, young lady?” Jack asked with an elegant bow. 

Tino grabbed a pillow to muffle a sudden case of the giggles. So much for being the aloof one. 

Rosie smiled and folded her puffy pink jacket over his outstretched arm. Like a true gentleman, Jack placed it on the hook and patted out the creases. 

Starling rolled his eyes at the display and turned his back on them. But Tino knew he was watching Rosie bounce on her tip-toes as she explained everything she learned in her singing lessons. 

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

“I am the terror who flaps in the night! I am the faulty cord in the outlet of evil! I am Darkwing Duck!” Starling dramatically held his cape out behind him as he appeared in a puff of blue smoke. He shifted not-so-subtly to the left in an attempt to show off his best side. 

Since only Dan and Jack were needed for this episode, Tino and Michael watched the filming from the sidelines. It was for the best. Rosie’s reading tutor had unexpectedly called in sick, so she was able to spend the afternoon with them. 

Tino didn’t want Rosie exposed to a Michael and Starling showdown just yet. Things tended to get ugly. 

“Give up! St. Canard’s hydroelectric dam belongs to us!” Dan shouted, a sinister cackle escaping from his throat. 

“You’ll pay for stealing electricity and throwing St. Canard into the Dark Ages!” Starling retorted. “Let’s get dangerous!” 

The prop team immediately dumped a bucket of water on Starling from the catwalk above the set, throwing the bucket at him for good measure. They didn’t bother disguising their gleeful smiles. 

Starling spat out several plastic goldfish, coughing as he declared how pathetic the attack was. Then Jack crept up behind Starling and threw a quick punch to the back of his head. Starling crumpled dramatically. 

Rosie frowned as Jack tied Starling to a pole with a water hose. “I hope he isn’t hurt,” she said. Her fingers nervously drummed against her pink dress. 

“Unfortunately,” Michael muttered. 

Tino elbowed him lightly. “Starling’s a resilient guy. He’ll be alright. Besides, Darkwing Duck always wins.” 

Starling slipped out of his restraints, which were already loose to begin with, and shot a column of smoke from his gas gun at Dan and Jack. Their surprise only lasted for a minute, but it was enough for Starling to subdue them. 

“And the vigilante is once again victorious against the vile villainous scum!” Starling crowed as he tossed Dan and Jack into the set’s jail cell. He struck a final heroic pose to wrap up the episode. 

While the film crew reviewed the footage they captured so far, Starling strutted off the main set and grabbed a soda from a nearby drink cooler. He didn’t free Dan and Jack from the cell even though the key hung on a peg several feet away. 

Pushing down a burst of anger at Starling’s carelessness, Tino left Rosie with Michael and freed his friends himself.  

“I need an aspirin,” Dan groaned, nursing a bruise on his cheek.

Jack folded his arms across his chest, not looking too worse for wear, but Tino could tell he favored his right leg.

“I should invent an instant healing ray gun,” Dan sighed. “No more bruises, cuts, or pimples and it won’t leave a scar either.”

“A huge hit on the market,” Tino said.

“Supply and demand,” Jack added.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Not all of us majored in economics.”

As they rejoined Rosie and Michael, Starling sauntered over. His fedora was pulled low and tilted sideways in his usual careless, jerkwad fashion. The edges of his beak curled into a sneer.

“It’s awfully nice to have coworkers who allow a little brat to steal my thunder,” Starling growled.

“Don’t call Rosie a brat!” Michael shouted, clenching his fists. Dan stepped in front of him, whispering soothing words to prevent him from punching Starling in the face. “You don’t know her. You don’t know her at all!”

Tino shielded Rosie behind his back. She clung to his waist, innocent green eyes flickering between each adult. He couldn’t meet Starling with equal aggression, remain calm and cordial, or invoke a balance between the two extremes.

This would have to do for now.

“None of us played a role in Dabble’s decision,” Jack said. His tone was even and controlled, but Tino heard the slightest edge of steel creeping in. “I suggest releasing your frustration towards him in the studio’s gym instead.” 

Starling’s cape flared out as he stomped up to Jack. His beak was several inches away from Jack’s nose. “And where exactly were your so-called diplomatic skills when I needed them? Either the fans come and see me because I’m there, or they don’t show up cause I’m not. Who’s the main character of this series? Who’s the person everyone watches the show for? Who’s the inspiration, the fighter, the creme de la creme of all superheroes? Cause last I checked, it sure as hell isn’t Liquidator!” 

Starling always referred to them by their character names. He couldn’t be bothered to remember their actual names, or more importantly, that they weren’t megalomaniacal villains. 

“Go away,” Dan said as held onto a seething Michael. “Some of us have lives outside a fictional world.” 

“Darkwing isn’t fictional, you half-wit!” Starling snarled. “He’s—I’m right in front of you!” 

Starling pointed an accusing finger at Dan, but a grimace flickered across his face and his arm fell to his side. 

“You’re hurt!” a little girl’s voice cried. 

The tiny pressure around Tino’s waist vanished. 

Before anyone could say anything, Rosie latched onto Starling’s fingers, holding his palm with one hand while the other carefully pushed his sleeves away from his wrist.

Michael’s eyes widened, Dan gasped, and Jack’s brow furrowed in worry. 

Tino bit the inside of his beak. 

Rosie had broken Starling’s no-touching-me-offset rule. Everyone agreed with this rule, no matter how much they disliked Starling. 

No hugs, no pats on the back, no friendly jostling, no handshakes. 

Starling hated physical contact unless it involved beating someone up during filming. Nobody asked why, and Starling never offered an explanation. 

A red mark circled Starling’s wrist. Starling’s breath hitched, looking as though he desperately wanted to pull away but couldn’t make his body move. 

“You should put some aloe on it,” Rosie suggested. “It’ll sting, but it takes the pain away.” 

Starling didn’t seem to hear her. 

“Rosie, let him go,” Jack ordered. 

Rosie cast an unsure glance at Starling’s wrist. 

“Now.” 

Startled by Jack’s no-nonsense tone, Rosie let go of Starling’s hand. 

Recovering from his frozen state, Starling scoffed and rubbed his wrist against his blazer to shake off any lingering traces of her touch. “Whatever,” he muttered as he stalked off. 

“Mr. Starling?” Rosie called. 

Starling paused in the doorway, inclining his head towards Rosie. His eyes were covered by the brim of his fedora. 

“I’m sorry,” Rosie whispered. 

“Don’t do it again, kid.” 

Though his tone was blunt, it wasn’t haughty or condescending. 

Maybe there was some cordiality in that universe-sized ego after all. 

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

Starling was talking to Rosie. 

Okay, so most of the conversation was about himself and how badass he looked on camera, but he wasn’t entirely ignoring her.  

Rosie clasped her hands together and maintained a respectful distance. She learned from the first incident, taking Jack’s lecture to heart on how some people disliked touch and a few tips on what she could do to respect their boundaries. 

If Starling noticed, he didn’t give anything away. 

Tino found his aloe bottle in the wrong cabinet with traces of green ointment on its side. Wordlessly, he wiped away the extra moisture and returned the bottle to its proper place. 

He had a hunch on who misplaced his aloe, but he didn’t think it was worth mentioning. 

Over the next few days, Rosie settled into a routine. She learned, she played, she voice-acted, and she ate lunch with Starling. 

Michael balked at the last development. “Girl’s gonna ruin her nose,” he muttered, shaking his head incredulously when Rosie barely reacted to the smell of Starling’s canned tuna and sauerkraut sandwich. 

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

Tino’s day to drive Rosie back to the orphanage rolled around again. It was the day before the meet-and-greet, and they’d spent the entire week preparing Rosie for her first public appearance. 

Rosie could answer questions and smile like a champ now. She’d do well tomorrow. Tino didn’t mind fading into the background and talking to the occasional fan who wandered his way. 

That’s how the Darkwing Duck cast did things. 

Starling soaked up everyone’s attention and signed autographs while everyone else formed a nice backdrop. 

Starling’s animosity to Rosie had lessened over the past few days. While he still wasn’t pleased by Dabble’s decision, he managed to grasp that it wasn’t Rosie’s fault. 

“Got everything?” Tino asked as Rosie slid a math workbook into her princess-themed backpack. 

“Ready, Mr. Tino!” Rosie exclaimed, slipping her backpack over her shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be able to sleep tonight. I’m just happy I can see all of you tomorrow!” 

Tino couldn’t help but grin at her unbridled honesty. 

“Bushroot! Just the guy I wanted to see!”

Tino suppressed a sigh. Only one person called him Bushroot outside of filming, and it wasn’t a person he tried to interact with on a casual basis.

“Yes?” Tino asked politely, channeling what he believed Jack would say in this type of situation. “I need to drive Rosie to St. Canald...I mean, St. Canard. Sorry that we’re in a hurry here. You know how bad the Audubon Bay Bridge is during rush hour.” 

The corners of Starling’s beak turned up. One could call it a smile, but only with a very loose definition of the word. 

“Is your face alright, Mr. Starling?” Rosie asked. 

“What’s wrong with my-” Starling’s snappy mood returned for a brief moment, but he coughed and busied himself with smoothing down his clothes. 

Which consisted of Darkwing’s turtleneck and unbuttoned purple blazer. 

Tino was starting to believe that Starling had no life outside of Darkwing Duck. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Starling said. At least he dropped the not-smile. “I wanted to see you off. We talk at lunch, but that’s only an hour. Not even an hour if Dabble decides to rush us.” 

Rosie bounced on her heels, eyes glazed over in thought. She had a tendency to bounce while thinking. 

“Can Mr. Starling come along too?” Rosie asked, tugging on Tino’s sleeve. “He never finished his story about the malfunctioning jack-in-the-box in the ‘Knick-knack Paddywhack’ episode!” 

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea...” Tino trailed off. Rosie’s curls had gone limp. Tino wondered if she had secret hair powers. 

Starling looked a bit crestfallen too. 

If Jack, Dan, or Michael had been in his place, they would’ve ignored Starling and left already. But Starling was actually interacting with Rosie. 

Interaction that didn’t involve punching someone or bossing them around. 

Tino lost the battle. That’s what he got from looking at Rosie when she was nearing disappointment. 

“Alright, he can come if he wants,” Tino sighed. 

Rosie cheered and Starling puffed out his chest as if he never doubted that Tino would refuse. 

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

“-Darkwing Duck on the brink of defeat, nothing but open air behind him and a monochromatic malefactor cackling madly in front of him! Then he remembers how much the citizens of St. Canard depend on him to keep the criminals at bay, and in a sudden burst of strength, he clubs Paddywhack with his trusty gas gun and seals him in the cursed jack-in-the-box!” 

Tino concentrated on switching to the middle lane, choosing not to comment on  Starling’s deliberate omission of how he got stuck in the springs of the jack-in-the-box during the Paddywhack fight scene. 

Rosie listened attentively, eyes sparkling as she envisioned the scene before her. 

They hit the usual traffic on the Audubon Bay Bridge just as Starling’s tale ended. Rosie didn’t bat an eye. She loved seeing the cargo ships sail through the bay. 

But Starling groaned and tilted his seat back at a thirty-degree angle.  

“Hey bush-for-brains, can’t this seat go back more?” Starling growled, yanking at the lever in a futile effort to make the seat tilt further. 

“It’s an old car,” Tino admitted. “You’ve already got it at the max.” 

Starling rolled his eyes, but at least he stopped trying to mutilate the lever. 

Rosie swung her legs, looking towards the horizon, oblivious to Starling’s numerous complaints with Tino’s car. 

“Rosie, I was thinking of becoming your legal guardian,” Starling said as he slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. 

Tino caught his eye in the mirror, but Starling either didn’t notice or care. Tino returned his attention to the road, trying not to complain out loud when another driver cut him off. 

Rosie’s head whipped around so quickly that Tino was sure she’d have whiplash in the morning. 

“You don’t wanna live at the orphanage forever, right? Living with THE Darkwing Duck is better than those guys,” Starling declared. 

After a brief moment of silence, Rosie smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. Starling, sir! I’d love for you to be my legal guardian!” 

She reached out for a hug, but Starling just raised an eyebrow at her. “First rule, kid. Don’t touch me,” he reminded her. 

Rosie teared up, but she seemed more happy and relieved. “Mr. Tino, I have a legal guardian now!” she exclaimed. 

Tino knew she was equating ‘legal guardian’ with ‘parent’, but Rosie didn’t realize she’d just accepted a self-centered, vain, gloryhounding jerk who didn’t deserve either title. 

Tino wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to Michael. He’d dropped hints recently about taking Rosie in. 

“I’m glad,” Tino said. 

He was the worst liar in the world, but Rosie beamed at him anyway. 

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

When they got to the orphanage, Rosie immediately broke away from Tino and Starling so she could gather her belongings and say goodbye to her friends. 

“Jim Starling, the one and only Darkwing Duck. There supposed to be a few papers I can sign so I can take legal guardianship of little Ruby here?” Starling asked the orphanage director. 

“Actually, it’s Rosie,” Tino corrected, shuffling his feet when Starling glared at him. 

Seriously, who took in a kid without bothering to learn their name first? 

But the orphanage director simply dropped a huge packet of stapled papers into Starling’s arms. “Just sign in the highlighted areas,” she said, returning to listlessly stirring her coffee. 

St. Canard orphanages must’ve been in worse shape than Tino realized if they were willing to hand a kid over to Starling without asking any questions. 

Starling took out a pen topped with a Darkwing Duck figurine and scribbled an enormous loopy signature in the highlighted portions. He flipped through the papers so quickly that Tino only had time to read the bold print on top of the page. 

“Wouldn’t it be better to read the page before you signed it?” Tino asked. The look on Jack’s face would’ve been priceless if he’d been here. 

Jack’s biggest pet peeve was how people never read the fine print before they signed a document.  

Starling huffed. “You wanna be here all night?” 

“Well, no-” 

“Then shut up and let me sign this in peace.” 

Thankfully, the next page asked for name, date of birth, address, and the usual things that were asked on important forms, forcing Starling to slow down. 

Tino’s leg bounced as watched the clock. The hands crept towards five-thirty. Rosie would need to eat soon. 

And Starling’s usual dietary habits shouldn’t be passed onto any six-year-old. 

“Do you even know how to take care of a kid?” Tino asked. 

Starling’s hand clenched around the pen. A glob of blue ink stained the paper. Starling tried to rub it away, but only succeeded in smearing it across his hand. 

“Can’t be that hard,” Starling shrugged. “She gets food, a place to sleep, a stuffed animal or two, and a famous actor for her legal guardian. She could use someone to help her navigate the adoring public anyway.” 

“And caring about her?” Tino asked. “Love, attention, guidance, school?” 

Starling rolled his eyes. “Look, I give her a roof over her head and she doesn’t need to share her stuff with a bunch of other snot-nosed brats. She can run and play and hang with you and everyone else. She can go wherever she wants or do whatever she wants.” 

Starling signed the last document with a flourish and set the clipboard aside. 

Tino gritted his teeth, but there was nothing he could do to counteract Starling. 

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

Starling’s apartment was several blocks away from the studio, and judging by the amount of dust that had accumulated over the furniture, it hadn’t been lived in for a while. 

Tino delayed going home in favor of helping Rosie unpack and settle in, cleaning the lonely, secluded guest room until it was suitable to sleep in. Tino dressed a spare mattress in a Darkwing Duck bedspread, pushing down a pang of anger at Starling for his lack of preparation when it came to bringing a kid home. 

Speaking of which, wasn’t it the guardian’s job to make a kid feel at home? 

Rosie hadn’t complained once, but that didn’t make it right. 

Tino probably would’ve stayed all night, but he was booted out after he disagreed with Starling’s decision to feed Rosie an unhealthy Hamburger Hippo kids’ meal. 

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

Tino didn’t get home until eight in the evening, and the rice and bean plate Jack had left for him in the fridge tasted like cardboard. 

“You missed Pelican Island,” Dan said as he fiddled with a blender-like invention. “They almost got off the island, but then Dahlia found out that Georgio kissed Valerie and they broke the sail in their fight and all of Mason’s progress got set back by three weeks. Then they look in the almanac and find there’s a monsoon heading their way so now they have to delay leaving the island and find shelter as soon as possible cause the rains are gonna hit in less than a week-” 

Tino listened to Dan ramble about the show, focusing on his commentary and allowing Starling’s legal guardian status to slip his mind for the time being. Tino wanted to break the news gently and hopefully minimize any casualties that might ensue, but he’d need time to work on framing his words so that nobody thought it was the end of the world.

Jack leaned against the doorframe, coolly staring at Tino. Finishing his dinner quickly, Tino scraped the remaining crumbs into the trash and took much longer than necessary to wash the dishes, feeling Jack’s eyes bore into his back the entire time. 

Jack never pushed the issue, but he always had the uncanny ability to sniff out a lie. 

Dan and Michael were locked in a heated debate over who Georgio was better off with, suspecting nothing out of the ordinary. 

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

The meet and greet started at noon, but they arrived at the venue an hour early to help the film crew set everything up. 

Dabble had reserved a section of Barks Park for their public appearance. It was a good park with plenty of grassy hills, a playground, and a bike trail. 

It was popular for family outings, Tino recalled, hoping to spot Rosie’s red curls among a group of children who were playing soccer nearby. 

But there was no sign of Starling or Rosie. 

Starling always arrived later than everyone else so all the attention would be drawn to him. Tino just hoped that Rosie didn’t adopt Starling’s compulsive need to be fashionably late. 

“Places, everybody!” Dabble barked. “That means you, Michael!” 

“I’m in the middle of something!” Michael called as he twisted a green balloon into a sword for an excited boy. 

“Put that helium pump away and get your jester butt over here!” 

Michael rolled his eyes, but he did a handspring-cartwheel combination that propelled him to his seat and wowed his young audience. 

The Fearsome Four’s table was on the right end of the gazebo, while the writers and artists’ table was to the left. The table in the middle had two empty chairs. 

“Wait, we can’t start yet! Where’s Rosie?” Dabble shouted once noon hit. He tapped his watch in frustration. 

“It was my day to pick her up,” another director admitted. “But I called the orphanage and they said Rosie doesn’t live there anymore.” 

“What?” Dabble cried, tearing several white feathers from his head. “Then where does she live now?” 

The director shrugged. “I asked, but some kid knocked over her coffee cup and she hung up to deal with them.” 

Tino’s hands clenched in his lap. Sooner or later, someone would remember that he dropped Rosie off last night and put two and two together-

Jack’s hand came to rest on Tino’s shoulder. 

And Tino knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Rosie’s new legal guardian is-”

“I AM THE TERROR WHO FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!”

A column of blue smoke flared out. Several children tried to touch it, but their parents pulled them back.

“I AM THE CAUSE OF GRAY HAIR ON CRIMINALS’ SCALPS! I AM DARKWING-”

“Rosie, get up here! You were supposed to open the meet and greet ten minutes ago!” Dabble called.

Rosie nudged her way through the crowd, politely excusing herself as she made her way to the front of the gazebo. Michael waved, and Rosie returned the gesture, much to Starling’s disapproval. 

Starling crossed his arms as Dabble hurriedly gave a microphone to Rosie and whispered a few instructions to her.

“Are you kidding me?” Starling scoffed. “She’s not even part of the show! And you interrupted my introduction! I spend two hours ironing my cape and this is the sort of reception I get?” 

“You shouldn’t be wearing that outside of the studio!” Dabble hissed, gesturing to the Darkwing outfit. 

“There’s plenty to go around,” Starling scowled. 

“It costs money to make those-” 

“Shouldn’t we let Rosie speak now?” Dan mumbled. 

Rosie held the microphone loosely in one hand, the other nervously fiddling with a ribbon on her dress. For all the preparation they did, Rosie wasn’t experienced enough to handle an argument between Starling and Dabble. 

Starling snatched a spare microphone from the writers’ table. “Well, as much as I love verbally sparring with Babble here, I just want to take a few minutes to address something of the utmost importance.” 

“They’re kids,” Michael hissed. “They’re not interested in whatever you have to say.” 

True to Michael’s prediction, several kids left the audience to pursue more fun activities.

“As a man of action, Darkwing Duck always seeks opportunities to eliminate criminal scum and rescue innocents,” Starling declared. Tino could just imagine his pompous beak growing Pinocchio-style. “And of course, I’m Darkwing Duck, so I believe it’s time for me to put my lessons into practice. And what better way to do that, I wonder, then to become a legal guardian to a talented St. Canard orphan?” 

Michael gripped the tablecloth, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “He didn’t...” 

“I’m Rosie King-Fisher’s legal guardian,” Starling grinned. He bowed, expecting applause and praise. 

But Starling’s words seemed to go over the children’s heads. But the parents understood, shooting venomous glares at Starling as they steered their children elsewhere. 

“Hey! Where’s everyone going?” Starling called. He looked genuinely baffled that nobody was interested in the meet and greet anymore. “Seriously, isn’t this usually considered a good deed or something?” 

An empty water bottle smacked Starling in the face, and Tino silently thanked whoever threw it at him. 

Michael’s face turned a brilliant shade of red, and Dan was forced to hold him back as he screeched profanities to Starling’s face. Starling yelled back, and most of the backstage crew was too dumbfounded to interfere. 

Between calming Michael down, berating Starling for his impulsive decision, and Dabble trying to do damage control, Rosie’s presence was quickly forgotten. Jack gently pried the microphone out of Rosie’s hand. He took her by the hand, made eye contact with Tino, and inclined his head towards the gazebo’s other opening. 

The chaos allowed all three of them to slip away unnoticed. 

“Will Mr. Starling be okay?” Rosie asked as they reached a picnic area that contained several other families eating lunch and enjoying themselves. “And Mr. Michael?” 

She worried about Starling. 

Tino had never seen anyone worry about Starling before. 

“They’ll argue, but they’ll be fine,” Jack assured her. He knelt down to Rosie’s level, but he was still much taller than her, and she had to lean back slightly to make eye contact. “Is Mr. Starling treating you alright?” 

Tino made a small noise in the back of his throat. Starling never treated anyone alright. 

“He took me in,” Rosie said. “He’s kind of grumpy, but he did microwave me frozen waffles. We never got waffles at the orphanage. It was just oatmeal.” 

She spoke as if everything were really that simple. And to her, maybe it was.

“Are you happy?” Jack inquired. 

Rosie smiled. “Yes, sir. I’m happy to have all of you care for me.” 

There was a tiny twitch in Jack’s shoulders. 

Jack probably debated taking Rosie in too, but his logical mind drove him to question the expenses and sacrifices it would take. It wasn’t just Michael and Dan who toyed with the idea. 

And Tino had entertained it too, Multiple times. 

“Rosie, why don’t you go play?” Tino suggested. “It’s a nice park. Run around and have fun.” 

“Are you sure?” Rosie asked. 

“Jack and I have to talk,” Tino said gently. “We’ll stay here if you need us though.” 

At Jack’s encouraging nod, Rosie hugged them both and ran off to play. 

                                       ----------------------------------- Moments later, Rosie joined a game of tag and was having the time of her life. Confident that she’d be fine, Tino and Jack settled at a picnic table under the shade of a sturdy oak. 

“You knew the entire time,” Jack said. It was a statement, not a question. “Starling became Rosie’s legal guardian yesterday.” 

“Yes. Starling mentioned it in the car and Rosie agreed immediately,” Tino admitted. 

Jack didn’t reply. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him,” Tino whispered. “Rosie seemed so happy though. I think she just wanted someone to get her out of the orphanage. It didn’t matter who.”

“You work with Starling. You know how he disrespects everyone,” Jack snapped. “Waffles and giving someone a place to stay doesn’t make him a good guardian overnight. And you just...didn’t say anything?” 

“Please, every time Michael brought up adopting Rosie, you said something about not having an adequate guest room for her,” Tino shot back. 

“Starling knew you wouldn’t say anything because you’re such a pushover! He deliberately targeted you!” Jack shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to them.  

Tino ducked his head, waiting until everyone lost interest and returned to their lunch. While he was more embarrassed from the sudden scrutiny, Jack seemed to interpret the motion as more of a guilty expression. 

Jack moved to Tino’s side of the table, wrapping his arms around Tino’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “Sorry, Tino. I didn’t mean that. I swear I didn’t,” he said frantically. 

Jack rarely stumbled over his words, so Tino knew that the entire situation had gotten to Jack’s head. 

“I’m alright,” Tino said quietly. “Guess we’ve gotta stop beating around the Bushroot now, huh?” 

“You’re never gonna let me live that pun down, are you?” Jack sighed, but his lips were twitching upward. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

They watched Rosie for a while. Her pink dress was caked in grass stains and there was a leaf in her hair, but she was radiating happiness with every spring in her step. 

“Rosie deserves to be happy,” Jack said. “I wish we could’ve said something sooner.”

“She is happy,” Tino assured him. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s happy we care about her.” 

“But does Starling care about her? As more than a publicity stunt?” Jack asked. 

“I don’t know,” Tino shrugged. “Starling’s a hard guy to figure out. If he does care about her, maybe he could be a better person. If he doesn’t, then we’ll keep our home open to her so she won’t be alone.” 

“We’ll have to figure out that guest room.” 

“You’re planning to drag us all to the store to look at paint swatches for an entire afternoon, aren’t you?” 

“Guilty as charged.” 

Rosie shouted in joy as she tagged another girl and darted away before she could be caught again. She looked just like any other six-year-old instead of the little orphan girl. 

Though she could probably do with clothes meant for playing in, Tino noted. 

A rustle of the leaves from the leaves above him caught his eye. Curious, Tino peered up into the branches of the oak. There was a dark shape leaning against the crook of a thick branch and trunk. It was hidden from everyone else’s view, concealed by the verdant leaves. 

Though his eyes were concealed by the brim of his hat, Tino could see a ghost of a smile forming on his beak.  

Maybe there was hope for Starling after all.

[bleusarcellewrites]

Blue’s Adventure

I gota new puppy, got a lil carried away and well, here’s the result! Happy new year everyone, can’t believe this is my first story of 2018 lmao.

Waking up is comfortable. Warm fuzzy surface below her chin, gentle and loving strokes on top her head with the occasional lick that has ‘momma’ written all over it.

It’s wonderful. A constant circle of feeling safe and sound.

Opening her eyes, though? Now, that’s anticlimactic.

A plain blue wall welcomes her into the world she lives in. The fun part here is that she doesn’t even know that she isn’t supposed to recognize the color itself. Or any color.

But Blue does.

Just like she recognizes the big red ball her brother keeps slamming against too, yipping and bouncing with it not even minutes after opening his own eyes. Red looks excited, small paws never still and he better get tired soon because Blue doesn’t want him to nimble on her ear like he did earlier when they woke up the first time.

Her other brother, lying lazily next to her, yawns big and loud, and snuggles closer to the yellow blanket he’s covered in. Yellow looks comfortable enough and Blue doesn’t want to bother him. She decides to look for her last sibling.

Blue finds her sister on the far corner of their space, her dark eyes staring in awe something thin and green. Blue tilts her head to the side in curiosity when her sister starts nibbling at the thing but she just shrugs in the end, thinking that if momma hasn’t step in yet then it means it’s okay.

Talking about momma.

Blue perks up when she feels the familiar nuzzle from her momma’s hug. Momma’s fur is beautiful; black and soft. Blue’s favorite place to nap is next to her, even when Red would sometimes will kick her in his sleep.

Blue blinks when Momma pokes her head firmly and she realizes that Momma has been trying to tell her something. She tells her about change, about being strong and have faith in the future.

Momma tells her that they might separate soon but that it’s nothing se should worry about yet. Blue believes her, despite the uneasy hollow feeling in her tummy.

She holds on to Momma’s words that night and the ones that follow.

Blue stares at the white fluffy thing in front of her and pats it playfully.

It wiggles and it just encourages her to play with it more.

Shiro laughs below her but Blue doesn’t pay him that much attention. She continues to play as he slowly brings her back down and hold her against his chest.

Shiro’s taking with someone, and they sound different than Allura. Curiosity gets the best of her and it makes Blue to stop biting on Shiro’s finger to turn and meet Shiro’s friend.

It’s a boy, like Shiro but tanner and softer. He has big blue eyes and Blue’s excited to see the color again after Shiro and Allura moved them from their room to another one with more space and white walls.

His name’s Lance. He say so himself as he leans down and waves at her happily.

Blue likes Lance. She shows him so by biting into his hand.

Lance calls it home.

Her new home.

She’s unsure of this because home is with Momma and her siblings. Home is with big fluffy blankets and half eaten toys spread over the floor.

Blue is quiet during the ride. She resigns to snuggle close to the soft lilac blanket Lance brought with him to pick her up earlier. Lance sneaks a few concern glances every few minutes, both hands on the wheel except for that one time during a red light when he reached out and stroked her head gently, scratching behind her ear long enough to make her relax.

Home turns out to be a small and yet cozy. Lance gives her a tour, carrying her the first few minutes in his arms until she becomes confident enough to just follow him around, skipping a few of his steps with her excited jumps.

Her new bed is big, full of warm colorful blankets and toys. She rolls on it happily, nibbling on her toys and shaking the thin blanket off her when it blocks her sight.

Lance giggles near her and it just makes Blue more happy.

Maybe she will like this, as long as Lance’s here.

Lance names her Lady.

But it never sticks, not really. From the past few weeks she’s been living with Lance, he has called her different names: baby, beautiful, gorgeous, princess, sweetheart, star.

‘Mi amor’ and ‘preciosa’ also comes up regularly. Those are her favorites.

Blue cries.

She whines and cries out in both desperation and panic. Her paw is tangled, and the more she pulls the more it tangles up with the stray cushions strings and she can’t get away.

Blue grows louder; more desperate and she calls for her momma. She calls for her siblings.

She calls for Lance.

Strong but gentle hands pick her up carefully almost immediately, taking the entire destroyed cushion at the same time and Blue cries pitifully as she nuzzle her face against Lances chest, his steady heartbeat making her calm down.

"Hey, hey now, it’s alright, what happened?" Lance mumbles quietly, his free hand that it’s not supporting her is stroking her fur gently, "Did your paw got stuck? Hey, don’t be afraid, mi amor, I’m here! Lancey Lance will make it better, just stay still for me, ‘kay?”

Lance works quickly but carefully, humming softly to calm her down whenever the strings pull at her paw painfully but it’s soothing enough to catch her attention and focus on his voice.

In no time, Lance gets her paw out and puts the cushion away. He doesn’t even looks mad like Blue expected, after all, this is the third cushion she has bitten and destroyed  in the week but Lance looks relieved when he picks her up and kisses her head.

“There we go, beautiful! All done, now come on, I was in the middle of knitting and you’re a good model, having in mind it’s your future sweater I’m knitting.”

She falls asleep on Lance’s lap before he can finish. Lance doesn’t mind.

Someone’s biting her ear and it’s annoying enough for Blue to growl in frustration.

She blinks her eyes open, slightly grumpy that she has been woken up from her afternoon nap before its due.

It quickly disappears when the face of her brother enters her vision and then she’s all over the place. Bleu jumps on Red, heads knocking together playfully before they enroll themselves in a wrestle on the floor.

It’s a nice surprise to see one of her siblings again. She can hear Lance on the background but she hardly notices.

Red seems to be as excited as she is, because soon enough he’s telling her all over her new owner, how they have nightly competitions with each other on who gets the bed’s blanket and who is the first one to find the missing sock.

Red tells her that his owner’s name is Keith and that he came with him to Blue and Lance’s home, which is weird on its own right, especially when Lance is addressing the other boy in their home as Mullet.

After that, she gets to see the last two siblings she has been missing. Green and Yellow come together, both held in their owner’s arms before they are placed on the floor carefully and they waste no time to tackle Blue on the ground.

Yellow doesn’t stop rambling about Hunk and his food while Green tells her all about Pidge’s backyard and how it’s a jungle on its own, million of flowers and plants always around her. Green says that it used to drive Pidge crazy the first few times but then she started joining her.

Neither Red or Keith come, but Blue does hear Keith’s name every few times from Lance’s mouth. Blue finds it weird because Lance usually calls Keith by Mullet when said boy is near but when he’s not around, it’s like Lance finally remembers his name.

Lance’s weird. Green says that Pidge called him ‘pining loser’, whatever that means.

Blue sticks with ‘weird’.

Lance told her that he had a surprise for her.

The last time he said that Blue was stuck with a diaper for a week until she managed to finally destroy every single last of Lance’s ‘puppy diapers’.

This surprise though, Blue approves.

Blue barks and bounces happily near Momma’s face. She tells her all about Lance and their home, about their daily walks in the morning and the different shampoos Lance has tried on her that always makes her smell good.

Momma says she’s happy for her and proud. Blue tells her that she misses her and her siblings but that she’s not as sad as she used to be about it.

Momma tells her that it’s okay to be sad sometimes and to miss what’s in the past as long as it doesn’t blinds her of her blessing of the present.

Her words makes her turns back to see Lance, laughing freely at something Allura had said and Blue can’t help but feel relieved that she’s the one who ended up with Lance.

That night she sleeps with Lance on his bed. Lance doesn’t even questions it.

Keith and Red’s visit start being regular.

Too regular to the point that Blue’s not amused anymore when Red stumbles into her bed and takes her chew toy for himself.

She wonders if she has to have a talk with Lance.

Blue turns, determination filling her small body as she walks towards where she had last seen Lance and Keith but stops short when she finds them wrestling on the couch.

Blue opens her mouth to bark, to catch their attention but then she decides against it when Lance squeals and giggles. Blue waits before she turns and leaves them alone.

If Keith makes her Lance happy, then she guesses she can share her toys with Red.

For Lance’s sake, of course.

It’s funny, sharing a name.

It started out small. Lance usually calls her ‘mi amor’ when it’s time for lunch or when he does something particularly cute, which, come on, it’s all the time.

But then, he called her out and Blue had jumped off the couch to run towards Lance but as she had turned the corner, Keith was there.

“Yeah, babe?”

Now, that was weird.

First off, who is babe, Keith? and second of all, why did you answer, Keith?

It’s hard the first few times because Blue’s not sure when is Lance’s calling her and when is he calling for Keith, who shares the same nickname as her.

She’s grumpy about it. She’s sad and grumpy so she lets them know.

Her opportunity comes the next time Keith visits them, without Red for a reason, and when Lance calls out ‘mi amor’, Blue’s determined to be the first one to get to her owner.

Her enthusiasm and competitivity must had been obvious because both boys stare at her surprised and curious before realization dawns over their features.

“Aw, my beautiful princess was jelly?” Lance coos, rubbing his cheek against her face.

“Now that explains a few things.” Keith chuckles, shaking his head in amusement before he sits next to Lance and Blue, “It’s okay, I can give up my nickname if she wants to. It was hers first, ya know.”

“Aw, Keith, sweetheart.”

Blue tunes them out and focus her attention in Keith, feeling uneasy at the resigned sad tone in his voice. This isn’t what she wanted. Not really. Keith should be allowed to feel as loved as Lance makes her feel with just a nickname, Blue doesn’t want to take that from him.

So, she wiggles herself out of Lance’s grip and walks over Keith’s side on the couch, climbing on him quickly until she’s on his face and Keith’s hands immediately support her.

She licks his cheek, her silent blessing and both boys coo.

“Seems like it won’t be a problem.” Lance says softly, leaning down to drop a kiss on top of their heads, “Mis amores.”

Blue’s okay sharing a nickname, as long as it’s Keith. She likes Keith.

[picaresqve]

“Jonathan. Jonathan Wheatley? Your boss?” The figure in the doorway – previously in the doorway, now moving forward into the room – leaves the uncanny impression of a prayerbug: lank and tall and strangely deadly: slender hands stuffed into buckskin gloves, favouring the basket-hilted broadsword at his right hip the way some southpaws do. He speaks with the edging annoyance of an official whose schedule is being hampered by a clerk or a lower-level bureaucrat. His name is Benedict Cain.

“Ah, right. John. Well, he’s not in just now. What’s this about anyway?” Jarvis is staring through Benedict. His eyes are unfocused and glassy like the expression of a man who’s spent most of his life somewhere else.

“It’s regarding his financial assets. I really need to speak with him.”

“Hm. I see, but like I says, he ain’t here. Um. Could pass a message if you’d like?”

“No, that won’t do. Look, I’m sorry if I’m being impatient, but I was supposed to meet Jonathan here first thing in the morning. Now, I’ve come all the way from the capital to see him and it’s a bit too urgent to just leave a message.” Benedict’s eyes are brutal and bright and unflinching. The pause between the first statement and the following one is not long enough for an interjection, only for an effect. “I work for the treasury.”

“Oh. Ohhhh. Well— well, all I’m sayin’ is he ain’t here right now. Might have stepped out, not really sure, but, well, yeah. You—you best just come back later.”

Jarvis has spent the last nine years in a locked room inside his head. Years spent in the same routine, in a machine that he has no notion of its existence or control over the levers of its dominion. He is hollowed-out and numb by too much memory and not enough joy. He thinks about money and how there’s never enough. About food. About how, in secret, his stillborn child some months back is treated as a blessing. Mostly, though, he’s just waiting for lunch and that small spot he’d found for himself between two boulders. There’s whiskey there in his satchel by the desk for when the day gets hard, and it gets hard often. His tongue feels swollen and dry and he wonders how much he can get away with and still be functional; he’s got one more chance, John says.  His life is coming apart, it seems. Between the cracks in his stare, a man can see it from a thousand miles distant and yet every day Jarvis the Derrickhand still has to wake up and do it all again. He can remove the drill string in his sleep, now. Can guide the pipe and line it up with the fingers by memory, done near on four thousand days, back-to-back, and thousands more to go. He feels nothing for the numbers because sometime before he’d emptied that feeling out with the hope. His hands are still sore from yesterday’s work and sometimes they’ll gnarl up at night and won’t go right again until the morning. He worries about his wife, sick at home, and about the fever she’d come down with in the night. He’d wanted to stay with her, but the medicine would be expensive, and he had to work. It’s not sadness that sits in his eyes anymore. He looks tranquilised, mostly. His knees haven’t stopped aching for nine years.

Benedict looks at the door he’d come in from while smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his doublet and sighing. He looks back. Jarvis can’t help but think that Benedict is unusually beautiful and elegant or that his conciliatory smile unsettles him. He isn’t sure why, but it does.

 “Forgive me. None of this hassle of mine is your fault. Mr. Wheatley can be a difficult, non-communicative man who expects everyone to read his mind. I know this. I expect he even failed to mention me or our business. That’s not your fault, sir, and you’ve been gracious enough with your time, time that I imagine you don’t need some quill-hand from the city robbing you of. John does enough of that himself for the both of us.” Jarvis tries to interject but is clipped off. “However, that doesn’t resolve my issue nor yours. I offer a concession – or a treaty, if you will: I’ll pretend I never saw you, that you were not here, but hard at work, while I sit here – right over there on the bench, to be specific – and wait for him to return and you can get back to whatever it is that needs getting back to.”

Jarvis squints. Benedict doesn’t appear untrustworthy on paper, he notes. His sleeveless, damask doublet is well-crafted with golden patterns woven against a black background. The white shirt beneath it is immaculate, outfitted with ivory cufflinks and a golden pin tacked into the mandarin collar whose symbol is unfamiliar to him. A pair of dark, well-tailored leggings feed down into his tall-shafted boots and the craftsmanship of his blade is immaculate but utilitarian, presenting him as a man who is all business but spares no expense in whatever business that is. Eventually satisfied, Jarvis accepts the offer to the tune of something like ‘knock yourself out.’ He turns and spits between his teeth into a nearby pot.

“Gotta get back to work, then, but John should be in soon.”

Benedict watches Jarvis leave past him, out the door he’d first come. Alone in the room, Benedict sits quiet and immaculate like a statue, his back perfectly congruent with the wall behind him. He tugs at one of his coarse, leathern gloves. He looks around. The office is in one of those old adobe buildings built during the last era by men greater than the ones who use it now. Squat and ugly but made to withstand an entire calamity. He smiles. The land is now owned by one of southwestern Thanalan’s more insignificant oil-drilling operations which is in turn a subsidiary of Godwyn & Smythe. He has come to understand that the acquisition is recent. He’s in the front office, he tells himself. There are two doors but he watches neither of them. One leads out into the desert while the other (a smaller door tucked into the back-right wall) leads into Jonathan’s adjoining office. The overall décor is quotidian and spartan and the fresh furniture and the new doors are already beginning to crack under the stress of poor craftsmanship. His smile disappears and he ruminates on the tragedy of a job badly done: a tool is only as good as the stuff that forges it, he knows. There is an angry, sweltering sound of morning flies from somewhere outside an open window. Benedict doesn’t blink.

Several moments pass before he stands and strides across the room, his hobnail’d boots snapping crisply off the boardfloor. He circles the desk at the centre. The absentee receptionist is immaculate in his care, he notes, as his fingers pass over neatly-categorised stacks of paper, toiled at by a mind that functions primarily on order; this is not Jarvis’ work. He rifles through a sheaf of papers with only a dull interest before moving on, leaving them as methodical as he had found them. He stops at one of the windows and peers sideways at the land stretching out beyond. Everything looks dull and over-exposed in the midday desert sun. An empty, white light that is blinding and hungry.

Nearly an hour passes before the door opens. Benedict is standing before a painting of an idyllic, rural countryside when Jonathan enters the office in a hurry. He makes it halfway across the room towards his own door before he notices that Benedict is not his receptionist nor one of his workers.

“Can I help you?” Jonathan says, out of breath and agitated. Benedict doesn’t turn around immediately.

“In heaven and earth and all the realms, seventy and seven, I know not of a more depraved will than that which sits in the core of man’s heart and begins, simply, with the words: ‘I want.’ “

“Excuse me?” The words are spit out. Benedict looks down and smiles before turning to Jonathan.

“Never mind me, Mister Wheatley, I was only thinking aloud. Let me first say it’s a pleasure to be here. My name is Benedict. You’ve never met me, but I work for the Firm. You’re familiar with us.” Benedict speaks to Jonathan in a crisp, polite voice that stops just shy of worship. Jonathan’s face is already beginning to crumple into horror and the preliminary stages of sobbing. Benedict gestures towards the door he’d been heading for. “Please forgive me, but do you care if we step into your office?”

*

Benedict exits out onto the hot, suffocating porch as the sun sits still in the roof of the sky like a great and scorching eye. The air has a vacuum-pressure quality to it. He is smiling as he uses an old cloth to wipe at his hands meticulously. Benedict bends and unlaces his boots and tugs them off. Pushing them to the side on a small corner of the veranda, he tucks his socks and the old rag into their shafts. His doublet comes next, unbuttoned with his shirt, both folded neat and flat against the side of his boots. His leggings follow, the restraints unfastened with ease and care that seems both rhythmic and methodical. He holds his blade out in front of him resting on his palms. There is ceremony here in the way he folds his legs beneath him and lowers the schiavona onto the pile of clothes. He sings a hymn in a foreign tongue. He runs his fingers along the flat of the blade. He stands.

Benedict looks out on the horizon. An entire country of quiet and violence whose remoteness feels so total as to swallow up man, creature, and meaning. His eyes never blink. To the north, oil pylons rise dark and spider-like, ironed out against the sky. He can see the rumour of motion as the drill line and the primitive pulley draws the Kelly drive towards the sky. A breath. He watches the vague shapes of men, small and vaporous in the heatwaves, guide her back down to the earth. A heartbeat. In some stories, a future. In others, a womb.

He smiles and steps out, barefoot and naked, onto the hard, sand-and-dust earth and disappears into the world beyond.

* 

In an hour’s time, Jarvis finds a pile of familiar clothes on the porch and a strange smell. In Jonathan’s office, he finds Jonathan. The men find him screaming.

That evening, someone from the village with a steady eye and a careful voice visits Jarvis and tells him that there are brushfires up in the hills and to stay inside. As the evening redness sinks into night, a fever dream takes his wife in hand and leads her down into a delirium that fills their small cottage with yammering and cries. She is drenched in sweat, the bedding entire one acid-yellow wash of colour. There is the unmistakable droning of flies. Through the windows, a pale corona of light from the fires ascend the ridges around their homestead. To keep her from hurting herself, Jarvis eventually restrains her wrists and her ankles by winding up old cloths and sheets into cords and tying them off to the bedposts. She says she sees eyes in the windows, in the dark corners of the room. She says a man is sitting at the foot of her bed and that his stare hurts. There is ash in the air. Jarvis is sobbing as the nightmares deepen. The flies are screaming. A crescendo that draws across a handful of hours. Sometime, just passed midnight, she falls still at last and all is quiet save her, and she is murmuring. She says: the prophet comes with many crowns to this, His house. He comes with the sword and will wake this old country. He aims to make the land anew.

And then she dies and the fires rage all throughout the night.

*

In Ul’dah, Ja’rhem wakes in a cold sweat from a dream that he can’t remember. His bones ache. His skin screams in psychic agony. He draws himself up into himself while his body quakes. He lays on a pallet of linens and hay in a lightless cellar that he had crawled into earlier that night after a botched job. The darkness in the room is implacable and hostile. Clover is not here because he hadn’t invited her and he wishes he had and he’s grateful he hadn’t. Phosphene phantoms float among the black. A small flame still licks upwards in the crown of his opium lamp, bathing the pipe beside it in a warm and attractive glow. A flood of craving precedes self-loathing, both entering him in a sick and slick way. Or radiating from somewhere deep inside, from an illusory organ or gland that permeates a slavery so total that he doesn’t even know how to wish he wasn’t shackled to it. The sound of a rat dragging its feet over the stonework feels deafening when partnered with the crippling bloodbeat in his head. He can feel their black, beady eyes watching him from the dark. He throws a clay jug across the room in a fit of rage to dispel them, but it smashes ineffectually against one of the back walls. They are with him among the linens, now. He can feel them by the dozens, all skittering feet and coarse hides and squamous tails, always just out of his vision. Always slipping through clutching and thrashing hands. He shudders and something inside him cracks. It tells him that he doesn’t have to hold on so hard. There’s still a little left, it says. He reaches a trembling claw towards the pipe and weakly holds the bowl over the lamp. He waits. His ribs feel shallower than he remembers them. It’s been a bad month and it’s only going to get worse. Were a man privy to the hunger in his eyes, that man might never sleep a solid night in his life again. A sea of madness and raw nerves now shot, backfiring or firing off into a nothingness that swallows everything. He drags the pipe and the lamp back onto the pallet with him and curls around them like a cat finding warmth somewhere inside itself. As he smokes, in this small house of god that looks like bones and skin and a broken boy, Ja’rhem is crying. He disappears into a warm lap that he can’t see but he knows with all his desperate hope that it is Clover and that she is smiling her gentle and patient smile that tells him everything is going to be okay now. That she has him, now.