#so I have switched to being a clown like nature intended

[tsarjozinzbazin]

can u blame me

[vannahfanfics]

Electric Love

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Ochako Uraraka

Hey, all! Here’s my story for the Izuku Big Bang! I had the pleasure again of working with my good friend @danyartime​, so do be sure to check out her adorable art too!

Izuku bobbed his head to the upbeat poppy tune bumping from the small speakers of his desk radio. Though the volume was low to keep from disturbing his dorm mates, the thumping bass in the background of the happy lyrics vibrated the pencils and pens in the ceramic cup beside it. The little tink-tink-tinks of the writing utensils hitting the side of the cup added pleasant harmony to the song. Izuku hummed along as he scrawled notes into his hero notebook, recalling everything he could from the joint training they’d conducted with Class 1-B that day. Just as he was musing that it may be time for yet another volume of his detailed notes, the song ended abruptly to be replaced by a particularly loud yell from the radio host. Izuku jumped and looked at the radio, turning it up in curiosity. 

“Thank you for tuning in this evening, folks! Today we have a very special offer for a lucky listener! Prepare to dial your phones, ‘cuz the tenth caller will win tickets to AKB48’s upcoming concert in Akihabara!” the host announced excitedly. Izuku wasn’t big into girl groups, but he’d often heard his female classmates discussing the idols. They must be really famous! He thought, pulling up his phone and typing up the radio station’s number as the host provided it. “All right, folks! Get ready to hit ‘dial,’ because time… starts… now!” 

Izuku waited just a brief second before hitting the dial button and holding the phone up to his ear. He honestly didn’t expect much— there were probably hundreds of people calling in with the hopes of securing the tickets— but he did get a little excited when he wasn’t immediately greeted with a busy signal or a “sorry” message. The phone rang for a second, and then, much to Izuku’s surprise, someone picked up. 

“Congratulations, Lucky Number 10! You’ve won yourself two tickets to AKB48’s concert next weekend!” 

“R-really?” Izuku stammered in shock, completely floored that a whim of a call had actually won him something. “Oh, wow! Thank you!” 

“Thank you for calling in today! What’s your name, Lucky Number 10?” 

“I-Izuku!” 

“Well, Izuku, we hope you enjoy seeing the dolls of Akihabara in action! Stay on the line so we can provide you with information on how to claim your tickets.” Izuku did as bid while the radio host switched to a private line, playing a song for those who had been unsuccessful in their efforts in claiming the tickets. They gathered his basic information and provided him with the address to the local radio station, stressing that he needed to bring a valid photo identification to verify that it was indeed him and not someone trying to make off with his winnings. They made an appointment to pick up the tickets the following afternoon, since it was too late in the evening for a student to be out and about. After hanging up the phone, Izuku found himself excited to attend the concert despite not really being passionate about the band— new experiences were always thrilling, after all! 

Now… The real question is, who should I take with me? 

By the time he had retrieved his tickets and returned to the dorm the next day, Izuku didn’t have the answer to that question. He perched on the couch eyeing the two cardstock tickets with a frown, debating who to invite. He didn’t imagine that any of the boys were that into girl groups, so he couldn’t take any of them. On the other hand, all the girls probably liked them in some capacity or another. I want to take the person who would enjoy it the most!, he thought with a sigh, flopping back against the couch as the riddle poisoned him from the inside out. 

Just then, he heard Ochako and Kyoka’s voice drifting out of the kitchen. The two girls came shuffling out in their pajamas and fuzzy socks, probably getting ready for their weekly girls’ night as evidenced by the massive bowl of popcorn tucked in Kyoka’s arms. Ochako stared wistfully at her phone, petulant about something. 

“Man… I really wish I could go to the performance next weekend, but the tickets are so expensive!” she moped. Izuku perked up, peering over the edge of the couch. 

“Ochako, I told you that I would take you if you really want to go,” Kyoka smiled wanly. 

“No way!” Ochako refused, shaking her head vigorously. “I could never ask you to spend money like that on me!” She stopped walking to look at Kyoka, then deflated like a balloon and looked back to her phone once more. “All I can do is hope that they’re still performing by the time I’m making money as a professional hero…” 

“Hey, Ochako!” Izuku hurriedly piped up as the two girls turned to head upstairs. She whirled around to look at him, eyebrows raised in confusion. Izuku flushed as he sat up on his knees to look over the back of the couch, suddenly aware that it would sound like he was eavesdropping. “I-I couldn’t help but overhear… I, um, I won two tickets to the AKB48 concert next weekend in a radio contest. You’re more than welcome to use the extra ticket and come with me.” 

“Oh my gosh, Deku, are you serious?” Ochako screamed and zoomed over to him faster than he’d ever seen anyone move, even Tenya. She grabbed his hands, clasping hers around his with the tickets still clutched in his fist. Her nut-brown eyes sparkled with delight as they bored into his emerald ones, which only made him flush darker. “You really mean it? Oh, thank you, thank you! I’m so excited; they’re my absolute favorite girl group! Oh, I’m so excited!” 

Her animated reaction made a smile stretch across his lips and a warm, bubbly feeling rise up in his chest. When she let his hands go to take the ticket, she gazed down at it like it was the most special gift in the world; tears of joy even bloomed in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you so much, Deku,” she repeated again, softly and choked with emotion. 

“Of course, Ochako! We’re gonna have a lot of fun!” He grinned widely. Ochako looked up at him shyly, batting her eyelashes to blink the tears away, before whirling on her heel to scurry back to Kyoka. Izuku leaned his cheek in his hand, smiling dreamily, as the girl jumped up and down giddily while showing Kyoka the ticket like it was nothing short of pure treasure. Cute, he thought, his smile growing more enchanted as Ochako’s own illuminated the room with the brilliance of a star. Seeing her so happy sent a light, fluttering feeling through his chest, and he couldn’t wait until next weekend so he could see that bright smile again. 

The next week passed like a blur, chock-full of hero training interspaced with general lessons and heaps of homework. Izuku busted his behind to finish the week’s assignments by the eve of the concert, determined to have no obligations so he could enjoy the outing as much as possible. After penning his last page of a small history report, Izuku slunk downstairs to indulge in some much-needed human interaction. He sank down on the common room couch with a heavy sigh, right beside Denki and Hanta, who were spending the evening playing videogames. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to crawl out of their hole and join the world of the living!” Denki joked, nudging him with an elbow before returning his attention to the racing game he was playing. He cursed under his breath as Hanta’s car slammed into his side and sent him crashing through benches and trees on the sidewalk. “Hey, man! Not cool!” 

“Ya snooze, ya lose, Denki!” Hanta cackled, leaning back on the couch and clapping the soles of his feet together excitedly. “Anyway, Izuku, you and Ochako are goin’ to that concert tomorrow, yeah?” he asked, sticking out his tongue and leaning his body as if it would make the virtual car turn harder. 

“That’s right! She seems really excited!” Izuku nodded eagerly. He thought of that illuminating smile, of the joy simply radiating off her being, and couldn’t help but grin giddily. Denki caught his dreamy expression out of his peripheral vision and raised an eyebrow, then teasingly stuck out the tip of his tongue between his teeth. 

“So, does she know that it’s a date?” 

“What?” Izuku sputtered, throwing up his arms and curling his legs up on the couch in shock. His face had turned a bright shade of crimson in a mere instant, his freckles buried beneath the fiery warmth of his blush. “I-it’s not a date! I just had an extra ticket, that’s all, and it would have been such a shame for it to go to waste, so I was looking for someone to give it to, and I overheard Ochako talking about how much she liked the band, so n-n-naturally I would ask her if she wanted to go, because after all, I had the ticket and that’s the nice thing to do—” he babbled, his face reddening with each breathless phrase. Denki and Hanta just stared at him with matching expressions of pure skepticism, which only made his face more reminiscent of a tomato. Steam was practically buffeting out of his ears by the time he lost all semblance of words and just started gasping like a fish out of water. 

“Anyway, does she know it’s a date?” Denki repeated, deadpan. Izuku slapped his hands to his face, utterly mortified. He hadn’t intended to ask Ochako on a date; he was just trying to be nice! What if she did think it was a date? He had less than twenty-four hours until they were set to go to the concert, but if she thought it was a date, then he had to make sure it was the best date ever! After all, it would be her first date, wouldn’t it? Oh, he would hate for her to have a terrible experience— and with him, no less! What should he do? What should he do? 

“Now, Izuku,” Denki sighed magnanimously, chucking his controller onto the coffee table since his friend was clearly distressed. Hanta pouted, disappointed he could no longer clown Denki with the racing game, but paused the game so he could walk around the couch to plop down on Izuku’s other side and sling his lanky arm around his shoulders. Izuku’s emerald eyes, shining against his crimson skin, nervously peered through the gaps in his fingers. “Don’t worry! There’s still plenty of time to fix this sad, sad, sad situation you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

“There is?” 

“Indeed there is!” Hanta chimed in agreement, nodding his head and holding up his index finger confidently. “Rest assured, Izuku, the two of us are gonna transform you into the studliest of studs so that tomorrow you’ll sweep Ochako off her feet, guaranteed!” Izuku tentatively lowered his hands from his face, blinking uncertainly. Despite his misforgivings, Denki and Hanta were popular with the girls of the Hero Course; surely they at least knew something about taking a girl out on a date, right? Whether or not that was true, the two boys hoisted Izuku up to cart him upstairs, ready to give him a crash-course on wooing their adorable, bubbly classmate and taking her on the best first date ever… 

The following afternoon, after a night of feverish courting lessons and last-minute reservations, Izuku was standing in Denki’s bedroom, nervously regarding himself in the mirror hanging on the back of the blond’s closet door. He was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting, slightly torn jeans and a graphic tee— a much different look than his usual cargo shoots and simple tees. Denki fluttered around him, biting down on his lip as he suppressed excited squeals of delight. 

“Uh, Denki, are you sure about this?” Izuku asked, plucking at the white fibers of the shredded denim over his knees. “Shouldn’t I, like, dress for comfort?” 

“No!” Denki scolded and flicked him in the forehead, making Izuku whimper and press his hand over the pink mark on his forehead. “You dress to impress on a date, dude. Rule #1! Ochako’s probably gonna be dressed to the nines for this concert; you don’t wanna embarrass her! Sheesh.” 

Before Izuku could respond, Hanta descended upon him, spritzing him with cologne. Izuku hacked and coughed as the clouds of strong-smelling aroma wafted up into his face, stinging his eyes and throat. Hanta patted his shoulders and gave them an encouraging squeeze, grinning at him through his reflection. 

“You’re gonna do great, Izuku! Remember your training,” he encouraged with another squeeze. Izuku momentarily panicked, his mind flushing the last eighteen hours of grilling the two boys had subjected him to in the art of wooing women. Denki rolled his eyes and thwapped him upside the head with an encouraging smirk. 

“Relax, dude. You’re gonna do fine! Just remember to show Ochako a good time. That’s Rule #1!” 

“I thought ‘dress to impress’ was Rule #1?” Izuku blinked in confusion. 

“Every rule is Rule #1,” Denki tutted, but before Izuku could ask what good that did, Hanta steered him out of the room telling him that it was time for the show to start. They propelled him all the way to Ochako’s room, abandoning him there with no more than excited thumbs-ups and matching grins. Izuku watched them scurry back to the stairs, gulped loudly, and then nervously smoothed down his messy pine-green hair. He was already beginning to sweat; it beaded on the pads of his fingers as he smoothed them through his hair. 

Okay, Izuku! You can do this!, he encouraged himself with a roll of his shoulders and a determined sigh. He’d already informed Ochako that he intended to take her out for lunch today, and she should be ready for their outing by now. He took one more moment to steel his nerves before knocking on her bedroom door before he could change his mind. 

“Comi— oh dear!” 

Izuku winced as the cheerful call was interrupted by a loud thump and a startled squeal. He could hear shuffling and muffled whimpers and stomping around the room; just as he was about to inquire if Ochako was all right, the door swung open to reveal a breathless and red-faced Ochako. 

“Hey, Deku!” she grinned brightly as she swept a stray strand of her chestnut hair from her face, covering her anxiety with a nervous laugh. He could see her leaning awkwardly on one leg and the beginnings of a bruise forming on her other knee. “I’m ready to go!” she trilled, leaning in the doorframe and using her smile to try and hide the pained wobbling of her lips. He began to ask if she was really okay, but the words died in his throat when he finally took a moment to really look at her. 

She was wearing a pink sundress with a white ribbon around the waist, tied in a big bow in the back with lace accents. Shiny white sandals framed her feet, her pink painted toenails shining in the fluorescent lights of the hallway. A big pink-and-white bow was tucked into her hair, which framed her round face. A blush rose to Izuku’s cheeks as he stared at her, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Ochako blinked perplexedly, eyes growing owlish. “Deku? What is it?” 

“Y-y-you look really cute today,” he finally managed. Ochako blinked again, and then her face flooded the color of her dress. She fisted the skirt shyly, swaying back and forth and trying not to let her happiness show on her face. 

“Thanks, Deku… You look nice, too…” She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger as Izuku continued to admire her beauty, her bashful little smile. After a minute of him just dreamily gawking, Ochako fluttered her eyes and politely pushed, “Um… Deku, shouldn’t we get going? We have a reservation at that sandwich place, don’t we?” 

“O-oh gosh! Sorry, sorry! Yes, let’s go!” In his flurry, he instinctively grabbed Ochako’s hand to begin pulling her down the hall. He heard her squeak in surprise and could feel the nervous sweat flood her palm, but for some reason, he didn’t feel the urge to let go. Her hand felt so soft and nice against his, which was scarred and calloused from the harsh use of his Quirk. She was careful not to touch his skin with her padded fingertips; they wouldn’t get very far with him floating off into space, after all! He did look at her briefly, however, silently inquiring if she was okay. She only grinned bashfully and gave his hand a little approvatory squeeze— and his heart rate shot into the atmosphere as that warm joy bubbled up inside of him. 

It was about a three-hour bullet train ride to Tokyo, where they would catch lunch before heading to Akihabara to attend the early evening concert before catching the train back. It certainly was a full day, but Izuku found himself excited as he joined the train with Ochako. Their curriculum was so demanding that it was rare they had a chance for an outing like this, and Izuku was happy it was with one of his best friends. Except… Best friends don’t go out on dates, he thought with a blush, looking down at where Ochako’s hand rested on the arm of the train seat. He’d let her hand go when they left the dorm, but his fingers had insistently itched to claim her soft hand once again. It felt like it had fit so perfectly in his own, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. 

He looked away from her hand before she noticed, busying himself with the scenic landscape of Japan idling by through the window. He wasn’t sure how long he spent watching the buildings and roads and trees and hills roll by, but eventually he heard a soft thunk that pulled his attention away from the glass pane. He turned to see that Ochako had slumped over the edge of the seat to loll into the aisle, her mouth parted as she gently snored. The thunk had been her bracelet striking the plastic edge of the seat as her arm slipped off. She was bent awkwardly with the other arm of the seat digging into her side. It certainly didn’t look comfortable, evidenced by the way her face twitched in discomfort and she mumbled something unintelligible but laced with pain. 

I can’t let her stay like that, Izuku thought. Gently so as not to wake her, he leaned in to loop his arms around her and pull her back into the seat. She immediately began to slip to the side again, head bobbing, and he reflexively caught the side of her head with his hand. He flushed at the realization of just how big his hand was in comparison to hers, so easily cradling her skull. Tenderly, he guided her head to rest on his shoulder. Ochako’s face slowly became peaceful as she sought out his warmth, smacking her lips as she nuzzled into his neck. Heat flooded his body when the tip of her nose brushed his neck, but he fought the urge to spaz out because Ochako just looked downright adorable snoozing against him. 

Smiling sweetly, Izuku swept away a chunk of hair that had fallen into her face and tucked it behind her ear. Ochako hummed contentedly, her plump lips curling into a tiny smile. 

“Deku,” she mumbled sleepily. He tensed, afraid he’d actually woken her up; however, Ochako didn’t move, just continued to doze peacefully. He relaxed and then immediately tensed again when the realization struck him— Ochako had just said his name in her sleep. What does that mean? Does that mean something? Oh my gosh! Surely that means something, right? He used his free hand to nervously fidget, twiddling his fingers and jumping his leg up and down. His mind whirled for the remainder of the train ride, struggling to comprehend the implications of such a simple utterance. He was in such a whirlwind of confusion that he almost missed their stop as it chimed over the intercom. 

Izuku started with a gasp, then looked down at Ochako, who was still dozing peacefully. He gently shook her shoulder, looking up nervously as people began filing off the train. 

“Ochako… It’s our stop!” he whispered loudly. Ochako stirred, her eyelashes fluttering to reveal hazy, sleep-addled eyes. She looked up at him drowsily with a sleepy smile on her lips. Izuku couldn’t help but return it with a sweet one of his own, charmed by how cute she looked as she rose into consciousness. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” he joked. “Sorry to wake you, but we’re in Tokyo.” 

“Really?” she asked, looking around with her eyes still lidded with sleep. It took her a second to realize her head was propped on his shoulder, her short brown hair spilling over it like a curtain. When she did, however, she stiffened, and then bolted up with a squeak. Izuku only just managed to pull back in time before her head collided with his chin. Ochako covered her hands with her face, peering at him with appalled brown eyes. “I-I-I’m so sorry! How long have I been sleeping on you? That must have been so uncomfortable!” 

“N-n-no, not at all!” Izuku stammered back, waving his hands in denial. “It felt kinda nice, actually.” A split second of silence passed between them as they processed what he’d just uttered. Both of them then gasped and looked away from each other, both covering their bright red faces. The announcer pleasantly initiated the last call, making Izuku stand up stiffly. “W-w-w-we need to go! We don’t wanna miss our reservation!” 

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Ochako agreed, standing up and scurrying down the aisle while still covering her face. Izuku hurried after her, and they managed to hop off the bullet train just as the doors were closing. They stood awkwardly on the platform, heat radiating off them like a couple of steamed pork buns. They took a moment to recover from the embarrassing situation, with Izuku pulling up a map on his phone to navigate their way to the sandwich shop. He looked at Ochako, still slightly pink-faced, and coughed politely because she was still staring stressfully off into space. 

“Sh-shall we head off? I don’t think that the train station specializes in sandwiches,” he joked lightly and rubbed the back of his neck. Ochako smiled at his wisecrack, her opal-pink cheeks turning a pleasant shade of carnation as her discomfort was replaced with happiness. She nodded in agreement so Izuku turned around, standing on his tip-toes to hunt for the stairs over the sea of heads. The subway was bustling as those departing the train and those preparing for the next arrival blended together in a writhing, cacophonic mess. He and Ochako stared dauntedly at the tightly-crammed mass and the stairs hugging the wall beyond the great sea of people. 

“Um… Ochako… Would you like to hold hands?” Izuku offered shyly, looking at her with a sheepish smile. When her eyes blew wide like twin moons, his face blazed red and he hurriedly threw up his hands defensively. “I-I-I just don’t want us to get separated, that’s all! Th-there’s so many people, a-a-after all, and it would waste more time if one of us got lost!” 

“Oh!” Ochako blinked, the blush in her face fading with a sheepish smile. “Sure, Deku.” She offered him her hand and Izuku took it, careful not to touch all five of the cute little pink pads adorning her fingertips. As easy as floating over the crowd would be, it would probably present more problems than it would solve in the end. 

Clutching her hand tight and mildly self-conscious about the sweat that blossomed on his palm, he turned slightly to the side so he could shoulder his way through the crowd. He toted Ochako along, shouting “Excuse me!” and “Coming through!” over the chatter and mechanical din of the train station. Somehow, they wormed their way through the crowd and arrived at the base of the stairs, albeit a little breathless. He smiled at Ochako and moved to retract his hand, but surprisingly, she clenched down on his fingers. When he stared confusedly at her, she looked bashfully down at her feet. 

“It might be crowded on the street, so… maybe we should play it safe?” She peered out of her lashes at him, pink tinging her cheeks. Izuku’s eyebrows crept up his forehead, too stunned to even have the sense to blush, but the hopefulness in Ochako’s timid gaze chased away any inclinations of refusing. He just smiled sweetly and squeezed her hand, prompting her to look up at him. 

“Of course, Ochako. The last thing I’d want to do today is lose you.” 

She gasped lightly, then used her free hand to hide her face as it flushed bright red. Izuku, realizing how flirtatious the simple declaration could sound, did the same and looked over his shoulder. I didn’t mean for it to sound so lovey-dovey, but Ochako thinks this is a date, so I guess I should be a little flirty, right?, he thought, peering out of the gaps in his fingers at her. Though her hand covered most of her face, he could see the edges of her blissful smile poking out from underneath her fingers. The fact she was so happy at just a small comment made his heart flutter and a bubbly feeling rise up in his body. I want to make her as happy as I can today… he realized, a soft smile spreading over his lips. 

I’ll do my best to make this the best date ever for you, Ochako!

Finally, the two awkward teenagers gathered their wits enough to ascend the stairs to the street above. Like Ochako predicted, Akihabara was rather hectic; people streamed along the sidewalks, huddling close together as cars trundled by on the cobblestone roads. Flickering, bright neon signs towered over them advertising shops, deals, news, and— most importantly— the upcoming concert. Using his trusty map as a guide, Izuku weaved through the foot traffic toward the sandwich shop crammed in the small square space. 

“Wow! Look at all the cosplays, Deku,” Ochako piped up suddenly. He looked up with a confused blink, having been absorbed in following the map, before glancing around. Sure enough, a lot of the patrons moseying around were decked out in cosplay of their favorite anime characters. They flocked to the electronics and manga stores, coming out laden with goods. Others stood outside of maid cafés, chatting amicably with the girls in black-and-white dresses, thigh-high stockings, and cute bonnets trying to entice them in for an afternoon snack. Electronic music and chimes bled out of the door of a pachinko parlor as it opened and closed continuously with gamblers walking in and out, most of them defeatedly. 

“Wow! Akihabara really is as electric as they say,” Izuku praised. The air thrummed with energy; he could feel it vibrating under his skin, humming in his bones and sending a pleasant adrenaline pulsing through his body. He found himself with a prance in his step as he led Ochako on, both of them stopping occasionally to marvel at the eclectic displays that made Akihabara the haven for otakus and electronics enthusiasts. They paused so many times that they almost did miss their reservation, bundling into the shop with only a minute to spare and startling the hostess. 

Like the rest of Akihabara, the sandwich shop possessed an anime theme, specifically a popular magical girl anime that he knew Ochako liked to watch with Tooru. The waitresses strutted around in colorful, lace-laden dresses, playfully waving their ornate wands and punctuating their conversations with cute poses and sayings. Ochako’s eyes brightened immediately when they walked inside, and she looked at Izuku surprisedly as they were escorted to a table. 

“Izuku, did you pick this place because of me?” she asked as she eased into the booth seat, which was white and patterned with little pastel-colored hearts and stars. Izuku tried not to seem too proud of himself as he sat across from her, failing a little as the cheeky grin of satisfaction worked its way onto his face. 

“Yeah! They were really nice about working us in for the concert today,” he explained as he picked up the salt and pepper shakers, which were styled like fluffy alien mascots, to examine them with amusement. He set them down before smiling at Ochako, who looked like she was about to cry with gratitude. “I wanted you to have a good time, so I thought picking a restaurant themed after your favorite anime would make you happy!” 

She shrunk down a little in the booth. Her lips twitched as she tried not to smile too hard, but it broke free, stretching across her face until her eyes crinkled up into little half-moons. She played with the bow around her middle and shifted, her eyes trained shyly on the table. Finally, she murmured a soft, “Thank you, Deku. I really am happy.” 

“I’m glad,” Izuku replied, just as softly. She shifted again, her smile growing wider, though her face strained to fit the absolutely overjoyed beam. It made that fuzzy, bubbly feeling rise up within him again. He picked up the menu to hide his pleased smile. 

Everything’s going so well! 

They spent an hour or so in the shop, chowing down on scrumptious sandwiches and fraternizing with the costumed waitresses. Ochako snagged a photograph with every single one of them, and she broke down crying when the manager gifted her a free cosplay wand of her favorite magical girl because he was so charmed by her enthusiasm. She clutched it to her chest as they walked out of the shop, her eyes glittering like diamonds and her skin practically glowed with happiness. As Izuku pulled up his map again to find the concert venue, Ochako dramatically flourished the wand and bopped him on the head. 

“Am I a magical girl now?” He laughed while putting a hand on his head where she had tapped him with it. 

“Yep!” She giggled, tapping him again on his hand. “You’d make a beautiful magical girl.” 

“Thanks.” He laughed. “I’ll take that into consideration. Maybe I’ll make it my brand in a few years!” 

“Oh my gosh!” Ochako laughed, covering her mouth with an obscene snort. “I can just imagine you prancing around in thigh-high boots and a skirt with little plastic wings…” 

“I thought you said I would be a beautiful magical girl!” He whined. “What, is the image too beautiful for you to handle?” 

“Yes!”

They both began laughing hysterically at the image of Izuku waltzing around in a girly costume with his magic wand touting about the power of friendship and love. It certainly was amusing. They continued to joke about it while they strolled to the concert venue, a building tucked into the towering mish-mash of specialty shops. It proudly displayed “AKB48” in bright letters of purple, red, and blue on the scrolling neon sign, followed by a “SOLD OUT” in white. 

“It’s a good thing you won those tickets, Deku!” Ochako said when they filed into line. Izuku clutched the tickets in his hands; it would be a shame for them to come all this way only to have lost them at the finish line. They inched forward as the concertgoers were filed inside. 

“Yeah! I’m happy you agreed to come with me, Ochako. Truthfully, I don’t know anything about these idols,” he admitted while bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I just called in for the heck of it. I was so shocked when I found out I actually won!” 

“Really? This is gonna be so much fun, then! I can’t wait to see what you think of them!” 

“Yeah?” he said, finding himself growing excited from her infectious enthusiasm. She began to ramble about the origin of idol groups in Akihabara and the rise of the latest, AKB48. Though Izuku really didn’t understand much of what she was talking about, the way her eyes lit up and a smile painted her round face made him listen along anyway. He watched her dreamily, more watching her mouth move than paying attention to the words coming out of it. She really is pretty, he thought absently, marveling at the sheen of her glossed lips. He wondered what flavor it could be. She seemed like a strawberry or cherry type of person, but maybe she opted for something unique. 

“Tickets, please.” 

Izuku was startled out of his daydreaming by the attendant, who had apparently been asking him for the tickets for several seconds, based on his annoyed expression and demandingly outstretched hand. Izuku hurriedly handed over the tickets while sputtering apologies, but the greeter only dismissively waved them through. Ochako encouragingly patted Izuku’s back as he shuffled on, sulking with embarrassment. 

I just couldn’t help but get so engrossed in her talking, he thought with a light blush dusting his cheeks. His eyes were still engrossed with her, trailing slowly to watch as she scampered up to the merchandise table to ogle the band tee shirts. A dreamy smile automatically appeared on Izuku’s lips; she just looked too cute, her index finger pressed against her pursed lips as she carefully surveyed the selection. He moseyed up behind her, hands clasped behind his back and his eyebrows raised meaningfully. 

“There’s a little time before the concert starts… Would you like a shirt, Ochako?” 

“What?” she cried, jumping at his sudden appearance. “O-o-oh, no, I was just looking! You already paid for lunch, Deku. I couldn’t possibly ask for more!” she refused, waving her hands. She was still holding the wand from the sandwich shop, so she accidentally bopped herself in the head with it during her nervous flailing. Her face turned bright red, but she continued to insistently refuse his offer. “Seriously, Deku, don’t worry about it. I don’t want one that bad.” Yet, her eyes slid longingly back to the table. 

“Yeah, you do.” He laughed and pulled out his wallet. He danced away when Ochako tried to swipe at him, dodging her grabs while pulling out a few bills. It took a few seconds for him to get back to the merchandise seller, who was watching them amusedly, but once Izuku dropped the bills into his hand, it was over. Ochako slumped defeatedly and sheepishly slid the shirt she wanted off the table, while Izuku grabbed another that had caught his eye. Izuku slipped his own over the tee-shirt that Denki had loaned him, and Ochako followed suit by sliding hers over her dress. The fronds of her bow stuck out awkwardly underneath, making Izuku chuckle and bat at them. 

“What? Do I look funny?” she pouted, grabbing the hem of the shirt subconsciously. 

“No,” he chuckled while rubbing the soft, wilky fabric of the bow’s tail between his thumbs. “I think it’s cute how big of a fan you are that you’ll wear it over your dress.” Ochako flushed and ducked her head, the edges of her smile peeking out of her swathes of brown hair. He reached out to tuck it behind her ear, and as his fingertips brushed ever-so-softly against her cheek, she froze. Normally he would grow flustered and flail about, but… there was something about the electric energy of this place that made him bold, that made him act on the warm, fluttery feeling that had been filling him up all afternoon. 

Slowly, that bubbly warmth had become sharper, stronger, turning into volts of electricity that shot through his bones every time Ochako gifted him that beautiful smile and cute pink face. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to make her happy simply for her sake anymore, but rather a selfish desire to fuel the electricity pulsing within him, those sparks of affection slowly coalescing into an electric storm. 

“W-we should go find our seats,” Ochako gulped after a few seconds of staring at him in stunned silence, as his hands were still resting in her hair. He hummed in agreement and pulled back, sliding his hands in his pockets as he led the way. They walked into the concert hall proper to find rows upon rows of seats surrounding a spacious stage. Large black speakers lined its circumference and purple-blue lights basked the area in a dusky glow. Thanks to winning the special promotion, Izuku and Ochako’s seats were near the front— not too far up to be deafening, but close enough to still provide a great view and ambience. They pushed past the other concertgoers to take their place among the throng. They were just in time, as the lights soon dimmed and a hush descended upon the crowd. 

The silence was instantly replaced by deafening cheers as a group of young women in school uniforms skipped out on stage, smiling and waving enthusiastically. Izuku and Ochako barely had time to jam in the soft foam earplugs provided to them before the crowd erupted into their roars; even still, Izuku’s eardrums rang with the cacophony. After greeting the crowd, the girls set up in formation, prompting Ochako to touch Izuku’s arm excitedly. 

“Ah, they’re starting!” she squealed over the cheers. “I’m so excited!” She jumped up and down, standing on her tip-toes to watch the idols with sparkling eyes, and that’s when Izuku stopped paying attention to anything but her. 

Really, if he’d paid for the tickets, they’d have been a waste. Izuku spent the entire concert gazing at the girl beside him. The strobe lights played over her form in hues of pink and purple and blue, the light playing over her round cheeks pink with exhilaration and glinting off her bright smile and shining eyes. Sweat sheened on her skin as she danced excitedly in place and belted out the lyrics to the songs as loud as she could. Every time she looked at Izuku with an expression of sheer elation, he felt his breath leave his lungs. How a girl could be so utterly breathtaking doing something so simple as having fun, he wasn’t sure, but Ochako was. 

The electricity coursed through him, simmering under his skin and filling him to the brim with his own sense of joy. I think I love her, he realized with an adoring smile, just watching her sway her hips and toss her arms as she danced to the beat. No, I know I love her. Maybe he always had. How could he not? She had been there for him from the beginning of his journey, supporting him and encouraging him. She was the perfect balance of soft and strong, a kind heart ready to harden like steel whenever she needed to. And, God, she was beautiful, so beautiful his heart ached looking at her. She was a masterpiece underneath these flashing lights, the shining sun, the glowing moon— a soft and natural beauty that was as pure as the rest of her. 

Izuku found himself reaching out to her without realizing it. He gently touched her cheek, a feather-light trace of her skin. She dropped her arms slightly to look at him in confusion, and that’s when he closed the distance to press a kiss to her mouth. He felt her tense and then melt into him with a soft hum. Her body molded against his like it belonged there, her arms winding around his neck like they’d found their way home. The poppy tunes of the idol band faded into the background as they kissed slowly, sweetly, passionately, in the thralls of a love so electric it could power cities for all time. 

Eventually, they pulled apart, a little breathless and pink-faced. Strawberry, he thought absently when he licked his lips. Ochako stared coyly up at him and batted her eyelashes. 

“I didn’t know this was supposed to be a date,” she admitted quietly, so much so that Izuku almost didn’t hear her over the blasting music of the ending set. He did, though, and his eyes went wide in shock. 

“You… you didn’t? But Denki and Hanta said…” He trailed off with a groan, realizing just how big a mistake it was to listen to those two clowns. Ochako laughed when he face-palmed. She reached up to pull his hand away, still chuckling. The show had just ended with the crowd erupting in applause around them, but the two of them made no move to leave. 

“It’s okay,” she smiled sweetly. “I had an amazing time, Deku, really. This is more than I ever could have asked for.” 

“I’m glad, but…” He chewed nervously on the inside of his check. “Are you okay with it being a date? I mean, I thought… Which is why I kissed you, but if you didn’t want it, that was totally not okay of me—!” Before he could descend into sputtering rambles, Ochako silenced him by putting a finger over his lips. He crossed his eyes to blink at the digit, while she chuckled warmly. 

“Izuku, do you think I would have kissed you back if I wasn’t okay with it?” she teased. He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. 

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true… So… does this mean we’re dating now?” 

“I suppose it does,” Ochako nodded bashfully, turning from side-to-side. Something about that made Izuku exceptionally giddy, so much so that he swooped in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. She squealed in surprise and delight, returning his affections with a nose nuzzle. Filled to the brim with more happiness than he thought humanly possibly, Izuku just took a moment to admire his pretty new girlfriend, and her deep brown eyes that were staring at him, so in love. 

They were practically glued to one another’s side as they exited the concert hall. Dusk had descended, with the last rays of the sunlight spearing into the lavender-blue sky. Though Akihabara probably had much more fun to be had, they unfortunately had to return to the dorm before curfew. They headed straight for the station and boarded the bullet train. This time, Ochako nestled purposefully into his shoulder, watching with lidded eyes as he scrolled through his news feed on his phone. Izuku looped his arm around her waist to hold her close to him, enjoying her warmth blooming against his side with the nighttime cityscape basking them in streetlight.

It wasn’t long until she dozed off. Her shoulders rose and fell with gentle breaths. Izuku petted her soft hair with a smile, still on his phone as he idly wove the silky strands around his fingers. His phone chimed suddenly with a text message from Denki, asking how the date went. Smirking, Izuku raised his phone to snap a picture of them— Ochako dozing against him, held securely in Izuku’s grip. 

If Izuku had to say, it went very well indeed.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 17- The Patrol Redux

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning: Very slight spoilers for the provisional licensing exam in the anime and spoiler for the manga

Masterlist

Hawks was well accustomed to the jovial persona he was expected to put on in front of pretty much everyone outside of the commission. After all, it was one he’d cultivated almost his whole life. Of course he had days throughout the years where it felt all too exhausting to play the joker, but hero work was exhausting. That was the nature of the business. But since he’d watch your heart shatter in real time, since he’d heard you crying on the other side of a bathroom door all while you texted him about his betrayal, the persona hadn’t just been exhausting but absolutely suffocating. Yet he couldn’t turn it off. It was almost more natural to be Hawks than it was to be Keigo now. Even when Mirko had pointed out how rough he looked, his instinct had been to sit up straighter and perk up his wings as if that would hide the bags under his eyes. Hawks never dropped the persona. But as he sat on the roof of a building by where he intended to meet Chargebolt he realized he would probably have to.

Mirko had given him a plan. A really good one at that. If it worked he’d have to thank her later. But there was no way it would if he wasn’t genuine and that meant meeting Denki Kaminari as Keigo Takami. If the conversation stayed between Chargebolt and Hawks he was screwed. Knowing it was necessary and actually doing it, however, were two different beasts entirely. He would have to ignore every instinct he had honed over the more than decade he’d been a ward of the HPSC.

It had taken all of Denki’s strength to leave the apartment. You had looked so sad bundled up in his comforter staring blankly at your laptop screen as you went back and forth between attempting to work from the safety of his home and Netflix. Eventually though he had managed to pull himself away from his heartbroken friend, no matter how much it pained him, to go join the very person who had shattered you so thoroughly. He had wanted to cancel his patrols with Hawks but after the gossip blog had tweeted out about a potential feud his agency had demanded he keep it in order to avoid a pr nightmare. Who knew being a hero came with so much politics.

He expected Hawks to swoop down from above once he arrived at their designated meeting spot. He did not expect Hawks to look as bad as he did. “You look like shit,” Denki says by way of greeting. Hawks let’s out a humorless chuckle, “you’re the second person to tell me that today. Let’s go.” Everything about the experience is odd. As the two begin to walk Denki notices the bags under his eyes, the heavy set to his shoulders. For the first time ever Hawks truly looks like a man who carries the weight of Japan on his shoulders. “I know I have no right to ask this but how is she doing?” Hawks asks. Denki wants to snap back something snarky but something tells him not to. “Not good,” he says instead, shoving his hands into the pockets of his costume. Hawks thinks for a long moment, debating whether to ask the next question that comes to mind. In the end he decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “What happened at the provisional licensing exam?” “Dude.” “Not investigating. I swear.”

It’s weird to see Hawks so serious. Even when Denki had been injured during their first patrol Hawks hadn’t stopped bantering even once. It’s what had made Denki want to continue patrolling with him in the first place. At the time he thought they were similar. Class clowns who knew how to pull it together when the going got tough. But now all traces of that joviality seemed gone, except for the few moments the two of them would pass by a civilian, then he’d watch it slide back on like a second skin. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You explain the whole funny guy act thing you’ve got going on right now. It’s creeping me out a little seeing you switch back and forth dude,” Denki says.

Hawks stops dead in his tracks. His jaw clenches because it’s fair, trading one personal fact for another, but it goes against everything the HPSC has taught him. On the other hand, if he refuses, Denki will assume he’s just investigating again and then his chances of winning you back would really be gone. Denki looks confused as Hawks agonizes. He didn’t think it was that deep a question. Expected something along the lines of why All Might used to smile as he saved people. “It was the commission’s idea. I was a quiet kid and quiet doesn’t play well for a top hero,” Hawks finally admits before resuming walking. Denki has to speed up a little to keep pace. It’s an odd answer but he recognizes it must’ve been a difficult one to give. And, well, a deal is a deal.

“Like I said, (y/n) only took the exam because I pressured her into it,” Denki starts. He expected Hawks to perk up at learning new information about you but the man only nods in acknowledgment that he’s listening. “I thought if she got her license it’d convince her to try to be a pro hero again and then she could switch over to the hero course and join my class. She absolutely crushed the first part of the exam too. Yknow we had to tag targets on each other with these balls they gave us. It felt like a game so it was fun for her because she just smoked people out of the water. You should’ve seen Bakugo’s face when he realized she passed before he did! But uh, not the point.... The, uh, the point is uhm second round didn’t go so hot. We were helping some of the fake civilians when Gang Orca broke into the arena to play a villain attacking during a rescue and it, uh, it hit a little too close to home. Reminded her too much of how her mom died. She ended up having a panic attack. That’s why she failed and that’s why she didn’t bother going to any of the supplemental classes afterwards.”

The weight on Hawks’ shoulders seems to grow. “God I really am the worst aren’t I?” he chuckles. “Yea you kinda are,” Denki agrees, “but you’re kinda making it hard for me to hate you. Looking all torn up over this like that. It’s depressing seeing the number two hero like this yknow.” “Hence the persona,” Hawks shrugs. It’s quiet today, although they both expected as much. At least it gave them the space to talk. “Why’d you do it Hawks?” Denki finally asks. “Because she was too good to be true.” “Funny. She said the same thing about you that day.” “I’m many things but I don’t know if good is one of them anymore.” “Because of what happened with (y/n)?” “No. Not just that.” “I think this is the most honest I’ve ever seen you.” “This is the most honest I’ve ever been.” “How’s it feel?” “Terrifying. Mirko says I have trust issues.” “Yea that lines up.” “I need to talk to (y/n).”

Denki is the one to stop in his tracks this time. “I swear to god Hawks if you’re just trying to jerk her around I-“ “No! No it’s not that. I-,” Hawks sighs, “I just want a chance to explain why I am the way I am. Why I was so suspicious in the first place. If she wants nothing to do with me after that then that will be the end of it. I’ll write her a glowing recommendation letter for whatever hero agency she’d rather work at instead and she’ll never hear from me again. I swear.” Denki gives Hawks a considering look. Part of him wants to deny Hawks. That’s what Bakugo would do. Tell him to fuck off and keep his stupid explanations to himself. But he thought about you, curled up in his comforter, and decided it really shouldn’t be his decision whether Hawks stayed in your life or not. And if you were going to decide, you deserved to do so knowing all the facts. “Fine. After we finish patrol you can come with me to my place and talk to her but I swear to god if you make her cry again or I detect any bullshit, I’ll fry you Hawks. Number two hero or not I’ll send a million volts straight through your face with my fist.” “Thank you.” It was sighed out like a prayer. For the first time since you’d seen his texts, Hawks felt hopeful.

Author’s Note: Denki and Mirko are good friends to (y/n) and Hawks :’) In my mind there’s no way the HPSC didn’t know about Touya so I assume they helped Endeavor cover it up and would do their absolute best to make sure word didn’t get out about him being a literal child abuser

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut

[falling-heights]

I know that this one is a classic but how about a rivalry between goku and vegeta?

Now, what divides Goku and Vegeta the most in this rivalry, and what most often leads to conflict is the motive behind their actions and decisions.

Goku, though not always morally or mentally sound, is still his golden-hearted self, and will somewhat remain that way no matter the outcome. He won’t cause harm to you in any physical way, and he’ll do his best to heal what mental damage may surface. 

Vegeta on the other hand, doesn’t have a limit. He’s calloused and cruel. What happens to you or anyone else is thrown out the window so long as he gets the results he wants. 

So to speak: Goku is the light and gentle side, Vegeta is the dark and passionate side.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though, dear. There is much to be discussed before I can satisfy you with the most tempting bits. What’s most important in this moment, is their nature and how this will all start. 

Vegeta is very boxed up about himself and how he feels. Though you won’t know half the crazy and grotesque thoughts that float around his head, it’s also likely that he won’t keep these feelings in check until he’s right at his breaking point.

Goku, quite dissimilarly, is openly vocal about his thoughts, and such thoughts will remain mild until he’s threatened. He’s overall friendly and welcoming which results in you being somewhat closer to him from the start. Though romance is equally open to them both. 

Goku will be the first to take notice of the other. He’ll recognize Vegeta’s lingering glances quite early on. 

From this, Goku will build up a subconscious hostility to the short saiyan whenever you’re around. 

This will likewise cause Vegeta to grow an annoyance at Kakarot’s clingy traits. Goku may attempt to herd you around early on. Vegeta will sense paranoia for what Kakarot may be saying when he wasn’t around. 

To secure himself safely into your life, and to ensure that his rival isn’t spewing ridiculous rumors, he will make sure to be around you more often. 

Though still mild, this is only the start of their true rivalry, it only gets worse from here. They will compete with each other like this for awhile, in a feeble and petty effort to gain your respect before the other. 

It is at this point that you will begin to notice the contrasts in their behavior and personalities. 

Goku, though being far more open, is careless and aloof. He is outwardly friendly, but it almost never comes across as romantic when he’s trying to be genuine about it. Centered around this issue is his constant physical affection. Goku does it so often and frequently that it only ever comes off in a friendly way. Even something like a kiss may be mistaken as a joke. Goku will be closer to you in a friendly aspect, which Vegeta would struggle with most of the time. 

But you can’t possibly think the Prince of all Saiyans does’t have some tricks up his sleeve as well, right?

What Goku lacks on a romantically and physically involved level, Vegeta sets new records. 

He’s far more calm and calculating. His humorless and mannered personality will come off as honest and serious. You can’t help but feel drawn to his soft-spoken charm and quiet nature. 

Not only that, but a physical gesture, something simple as holding your hand, or him being closer than usual is enough to make you blush. These kinds of moments will always be rare and fleeting, but they mean everything because he’s beginning to break away from his boxed up mentality. 

It’s strange how something so elementary can feel so much more intense when it comes from another person. But don’t you worry honey, he has many more things in store for you.  

I wouldn’t suggest you try to hide your reactions, though. He’s more than aware of how his body language is affecting you, and with each time he takes it to a new level, it’s a small victory against Kakarot. He’s confident that you’ll be his alone very soon, so long as he remains patient. 

Unfortunately, whether or not his words and actions are truly genuine is hard to determine. His desire for you spreads like poison. Your touch, your voice, your scent is like a drug. One that he draws evermore addicted to with each interaction. 

Now Goku is no fool in Vegeta’s cunning nature. He’ll know immediately once Vegeta starts his antics, and something will switch in his mind like a light. 

He can tell when your gaze lingers on the other saiyan when he’s in sight. He won’t fail to miss the danger and chaos within Vegeta’s eyes either. Without fear without guilt or regret, almost as if it were a silent challenge of authority. 

His paranoid behavior will only worsen the minute you ask him about Vegeta. 

Why were you so curious about him now? What had Vegeta done to get your attention, even when not around? Why weren’t you as involved when you spent time with Goku?

He will try to convince, or rather plead with you to open your eyes and see the red herring. Goku may be a fool, but he doesn’t joke about the safety of his loved ones, this much you knew. The fear in his eyes is more than enough to make you wary. But, you shouldn’t focus your anxieties just on Vegeta. Because Goku is hardly any better. 

He’ll try to isolate you, both from vegeta and the other Z-fighters. He knows what Vegeta is capable of, which will cause his delusions to escalate. A predominant disposition will take ahold of him. He’ll grow over-protective, hardly wanting you to go anywhere without his knowing. This is, likewise to Vegeta, add a factor into your growing discomfort around both men, though at this point, you’re position with Vegeta is much worse than Goku’s. 

Now, it would be Vegeta’s turn to notice a shift in your behavior. You’re far more withdrawn, more shy to his touch. You don’t talk as much, and when you do, it’s always unsure and nervous. And worst of all, when Kakarot was around, you’d recently developed a subconscious habit to shift towards that clown if Vegeta entered the room. 

This is both infuriating and teasing to the Prince of Saiyans. At one point, you had so carelessly flaunted everything at him, and now you could barely meet his eyes. This is his first tipping point. It’s a surprisingly mild reason, but out of anyone, he’s the most eager to lay claim to you. In his eyes, the sooner he can ward off Kakarot and assert himself as your lover, the better. 

He may be unstable, but Vegeta is always calculating, always thinking about the next best strategy. Which is why he’ll be the first to confront you. He will wait for a perfect moment. A moment where no one will be around to hear or stop him. And a moment is all he’ll need.

Vegeta will corner you, most definitely in a physical manner. He enjoys when you get squeamish because of his touch. He’ll want answers. Why had you shut down so abruptly? Why had she been so eager to get away when he got close?

In the same breath, his controlling attitude will take over. He’ll say Kakarot is no more than a bad influence on you, especially when Vegeta would give you so much more. 

“What good is a Clown before a King?”

You aren’t off the hook yet my dear. Oh no, Vegeta has much in store. He’ll want some significant sign of compliance. He won’t go all the way just yet, but still, something must be done. A kiss perhaps. He’s not one for constant physical affection, but you’re just asking for it with those large, watering eyes and quivering lips. 

Though, perhaps you should count yourself lucky for the ever-watchful Goku. He may not be around every second of the day, but he’s honed his senses well enough to sense your aura from any location. He’ll immediately know when you begin to panic during Vegeta’s intrusion. It’s simply a matter of finding you in time, though vegeta’s presence with your own will give him more than enough motivation. 

It won’t take him long. Goku will find you, uncomfortable by Vegeta’s advances, and in a state of minor hysteria. This will be his tipping point. He’d failed to protect you. And it wasn’t even innately your fault. Vegeta had been far more aggressive than he could have imagined, and it was his fault for not being there to protect you. 

This sense of failure, this blow to his pride and sense of duty will fill him with a furor that could make the devil cower and weep. It won’t take more than a second for Goku to lost himself, turning super saiyan and ripping vegeta away from you. At this point he can’t even hear or see anything else other than Vegeta, and he was out to kill. 

In these few seconds of freedom, you will be given a chance to run. The others, though most likely unaware of what stemmed this fight, will try their best to usher you away from the two saiyans. They can get you away, but they’re helpless to do anything except observe. 

A battle between the 12 gods would be nothing compared to the brawl taking place between these two. This wasn’t a simple spar like olden times. No, this was a fight to the death. One that neither party intended to lose, especially when there was such a prize so valuable on the line. 

There are only two ways this conflict can end. Compromise, or Death. [For your sake, I split these into two endings]

Death

Both men depraved.

Both men ravenous.

Both men seeking your favor and receiving none. 

Nothing good can come of it. 

I’d love to give Goku where his credit is due, and he’ll try his best, but he won’t be the one to rise victoriously in this. 

You have no idea how capable Vegeta can be when he’s determined enough. And he’s never wanted anything more than he’s wanted you. 

This will be a close battle. 

He’ll barely have enough strength to survive, but all that matters is Kakarot’s demise. It doesn’t matter what he has to lose in the process. 

It won’t take him long to find you. 

Whether you’re running or hiding, he’ll find you with ease, and put a stop to your hope of freedom for good.

There won’t be anyone to stop him. They’d all died long ago during the fight, caught in the cross-fire. 

Everything was perfect now. He had you, no one to stop him, and the power to do anything he wanted. 

Submit before he forces you, it would only make things so much easier in this new way of survival.

You can only hope for another route of escape, or some way for Goku to come back and save you. 

But this is unlikely.

Compromise

Yes, how exciting...

But compromise how, you might ask?

Fusion

And the only permanent fusion for these two could be the potara. 

Now, we all know that if they fought to the death, only one will come out alive, and even that is a gamble far too risky for you dear. 

Vegeta would be unwilling to admit defeat, and Goku is too worried to lose you. 

For your sake, Vegeta may be willing to bite down his pride if it meant he could still somewhat have you as his. 

Goku wouldn’t like it any more than his counterpart, but for you, he’d give up that freedom. Goku would be the one to propose the idea. 

Only at the absolute minute, when he knew neither he nor Vegeta would be able to carry themselves much longer. He’d brought the pair of earrings as a precaution, knowing it may have been his only option. 

You won’t have made it far when their forms fused. The pillar of light, that could have been seen hundreds of miles away, blinded you. 

But the figure that emerged from this light was familiar. Two side-swept bangs, gloves, earrings, and that bastard smile. His eyes shone with a dark sense of possession. They immediately located your form in the small distance that you had made, his sneer seeming to grow evermore taunting. 

The others that stayed behind to help you flee won’t last more than a few seconds against this beast. 

You can’t imagine the monster that Vegito really is. 

He’s worse than Goku and Vegeta could have ever been. His amplified traits don’t just lie in raw power. His emotions would also be stronger several dozen times over than either of his predecessors. 

He may like to play with his food, but he can get serious in the blink of an eye. And keep in mind, he’s far more unstable and dangerous as well. 

Vegito probably won’t kill you, but you can’t expect a normal life after he catches you. You’ll be safe, without a doubt. But no one will ever be as much as a threat as him. 

Check out my other stuff!

[popculturebuffet]

Animaniacs: King Yakko Review (Comission by BlahDiddy)

Hello my beautiful technicolor rainbow! It’s time for Animaniacs, and while there is no balonga in my slacks there is one last christmas review for my friend to finish up, and after two visits to Acme Lab for the spinoff we’re finishing up with a look at Animaniacs proper.  Suprisingly for a show that stands so easily on it’s own it’s existance is entirely thanks to another show: Tiny Toon Adventures, which had largely the same staff, including ep and co-creator stephen speilberg and Todd Ruegger, who was brought aboard from A Pup Named Scooby Doo. Since TIny Toon was a colossal hit with tons of awards and merch, including some very good video games I wish Warner would find a way to re-release, I mean.. come on if disney can rerelease the disney afternoon games (If...not..for..switch), and LIon King and Aladdin games (If somehow FOR switch), then Warner, which has it’s own game stuido no less, can put together a collection of the good Tiny Toons games when the new show comes out soon. 

Point is it was a mass sucess and Warner Bros likes money, so they had Speilberg try to get Rutger to come up with another show for the two of them to do, something with name value. Rutger found his inpsiration when seeing the iconic warner water tower and taking some platypus characters, came up with our heroes and the rest is history.. well okay he retooled them from plataups’ to early looney tunes and other toons style characters minus the racisim of say bosko the tall ink kid but still, the rest after that is history. And the rest of this review is after the cut

The show was, and KINDA still is, a variety show: taking a page from looney tunes, as well as tex avery’s other work, the crew decided rather than just focus on the warners, to instead create a whole cast with various ensembles to work with so we got Pinky and the Brain, The Goodfeathers, Rita and Runt,  the Hip HIppos, Katie Kaboom, Chicken Boo, and my personal faviorite Slappy Squirrel.. and the bane of my existance, Buttons and Mindy.. or rather Mindy’s Mom. The kid did nothing wrong.  So naturally the first thing Animaniacs related I cover.. is an episode entirely breaking from format for one 20 something minute Warners cartoon. I do intend to do more animanics stuff in the future, so i’ll hopefully get a chance to talk about everyone, I just feel unlike with say house of mouse most people reading this probably know who they all are, and I can save any deep dives for if I cover the characters specifically. Spoilers: there’s probably never going to be a buttons and mindy deep dive unless someone tourtues me by paying for it. 

So with that out of the way, we can dive into the episode.. which I won’t be covering in my usual recap it point by point because the writers have freely admitted that’s not what Animaniacs is about. While some of i’ts SEGMENTS are more story based like Pinky and the Brain, Goodfeathers and Rita and Runt, most are just based on simple set ups to reams and reams of gags. And I love it. I grew up with this stuff not just Tiny Tunes and Animaniacs but the classic Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry and Droopy shorts. 

Their well timed, well executed feats of comedy and most have aged pretty well.. emphasis on MOST. I’m keenly aware why there are several gaps in the shorts for both Tom and Jerry and The Looney Tunes on HBO Max, including all of the Pepe LePew and Speedy Gonzalez shorts. Also all of Droopy is missing. 

My grumblin aside though, it is VERY NICE to have all the classic Warner and Tom and Jerry shorts at my fingertips and it was one of the biggest selling points of Max for me. Last year I gained an intrest in the old disney theatrical shorts, hence my various birthday specials, so I BADLY wanted to revisit the theatrical shorts I grew up with. And honestly.. Max is the best way to do that: their in crisp hd, in neat season collections (Though the Looney Tunes one is better sorted, tom and jerry’s seasons are just.. random smatterings of shorts across various eras), and most importantly EVERY SHORT they felt comfortable with putting up there is on there. Every. Single. One.  I make a big deal about this because Disney.. has only maybe 30-40 of their hundreds of shorts on there. Now lucky for me the vast majority are still on youtube and I get why some really arne’t suitable.. we probably don’t need the donald duck short where he prepares to shoot a penguin in the face or the Goofy short where his own reflection, the goofy equilvent of tyler durden I guess?, keeps saying “Hey Fat” to him. And yes BOTH of these actually happened. But.. there’s MANY shorts with no clear excuse why their absent like the triplets first apperance, gus’ only apperance, and one a friend told me about.. that time mickey built a robot to box a gorillia. Again not making this up, just wondering why you can’t restore the rest of these for plus. They’ve ADDED shorts ocasionally, but it still dosen’t make a whole lot of sense to just.. not have them all up there. and to not put them in some sorta collection for easier consumption but hey it’s Disney. They either full ass things or half ass it. There is no middle ground.  Point is Warner.. actually cares about their heritage in shorts and honors it and thus has everything avaliable in the best quality, so tha’ts nice.

My point after that detour is I really love this kind of humor, and now as an adult I can see the effort the timing, pacing and character chemistry these shorts had takes. And Rugger and co.. they got it. They got it down perfect. And this episode is a great show of that and just how they barely updated this format for the 90′s. But as I said it’s more about the jokes and basic setup, our heroes are slotted into x scenario and just left to run wild. It’s been the basic seutp for looney tunes, tom and jerry and all the gag based greats, and it works perfectly here. Sure there’s some setting and continuity with the warner lot, scratch n sniff, ralph, plotz and in the reboot Rita, but it’s mostly just our heroes go up against “X asshole” and it just works. 

And that’s.. entirley what this episode is. The short is an homage to the graucho marx film Duck Soup, which given the warners were based on the marx brothers that isn’t a huge suprise, a film like brian’s song I have not seen, but genuinely want to. The basic setup is the same: An underqualified womanizer, though since htis is Yakko it dosen’t get past hitting on his chancelor, played by hello nurse, constantly, which is still.. ewwwww... but clearly not the same thing, becomes king of a small nation and ends up at war with another country. There were spies and other stuff in the original short but that was left out to streamline things.  But this homage stands on it’s own fine: The basic plot is this: Yakko, due to being a distant relative and the last one alive, becomes king of the small happy and very musical, as the wonderful opening number shows, country of Anvilania, which makes anvils and why yes there is one MASSIVE anvil gag as a result at the end. Yakko says he’ll try his best and geninely tries to with the shenanigans you’d expect, including Dot not gettnig Polka Dot’s are a thing and instead taknig any mention of it as a sign to polka, Yakko again hitting on his colleague and wanting ot get a new anthem because the current one by “Perry Coma’ puts people to sleep. Honeslty that gag didn’t do it for me: Partly because I genuinely know next to nothing about Como and he’s far past my generation.. and because despite this, SCTV did a MUCH better Perry Como gag over a decade before this episode that while still left me baffled as to why anyone cared about mocking him, was 80 times funnier and felt far less like you needed to know who he was to be funny. 

That being said it’s one of only three running gags, and jokes period that didn’t land for me. The other ones being the hello nurse bits, because it’s aged really badly to have Yakko harass one of his employees and his age is hte only thing that keeps it from scuttling the episode as he’s just 13 or 14. Maybe 15. 

So SO glad I now have that on hand whenever i need it. The other being the “Your highness” joke as it just.. dosen’t make much sense and isn’t very funny. But that’s it: a refrence i specfically don’t get and I doubt most of you will, and if you do fine we all have our frames of refrences, a joke that’s dated very poorly, and one that just.. didn’t land. And even then the Perry Coma thing’s third use to knock out the opposing army DID work for me as did the VERY clever joke of “Sire” “Maybe later”, so even the weaker bits still had some legs.  But getting back to what little plot there is the king of the rival country, upon hearing this, assumes he can easily intimidate a child into giving him the throne and goes to a royal reception. Instead, as you’d expect, the Warners mistake him for a party clown, show him no respect and fail to take his delcration of war seriously, and while in a REALLY great gag, and the reason i’m not doing a strict summary is 90% of the review would be me saying something to that effect, Yakkos’ call to action for his troops ends up having them all run off in fear, the Warners take out the army as noted above and then in one of the most GLORIOUS climaxes in the series history...

 In which the Warners give the bad guy “all the anvils” as he requested. I sadly coulnd’t find a clip of it but seek it out if you got hulu, my words can’t do it justice as they hit him with anvil after anvil in increasingly clever and insane ways till the guy finally gives up and it .. is glorious.  Other highlights not already mentioned include: The opening song, the bad guy dictator from the other nation not being able to hear because of his helmet and his attendee having to lift it, leading to Yakko taking off his helmet just to end the “what’ running gag, Yakko’s bit explaning his distant relation and more.  So yeah not a ton to say on this one. It’s a very good, very funny episode but also very typical of a warner cartoon in structure, just stretched over 22 or so minutes. As I said with few exceptions the jokes work, the anmation is crisp as always, and the climax is one of the series best. A crisp, quick watch and a nice quick review after a week of with some really tough ones behind me and ahead of me and a month of rather large ones a few weeks out. So yeah if you like animaniacs, even ifyou’ve seen this one worth a watch, if you have any more animaniacs you’d like me to take a look at feel free to comment or comission and until the next rainbow..

[rooneywritesbest]

2020: Harley Quinn Takeover

  As the time of writing this. We are exactly one month away from the release of Birds Of Prey/ Harley Quinn the movie. The marketing for the black and red jester will officially be in full force from now on. It’s still ironic to think, and actually imagine a character who was created by the great Paul Din all the way back in 1993. When the Emmy award-winning Batman The Animated Series was still gracing the screens of fans that appealed to all ages of demographic. The jester appeared as a side character or a write-off, but fate has it has turned into one of the most popular, and influential icons of comic book media.

  Now in the early days of 2020. Harley Quinn has a successful animated series on the upcoming app of DC Universe. However many feel the platform is still finding it’s footing compared to say Netflix or Disney+. Moving on the show Harley Quinn is bloody, definitely NSFW, and only intended for viewership of mature audience status. Setting aside the preference of concern.

 The show is riddled with star-studded talent. Ranging from Kaley Cuoco from Big Bang Theory as Penny, and even Tony Hale as Doctor Psycho. 

 Even JB Smoove from Curb Your Enthusiasm as Leon. Now on this property plays one of Poison Ivy’s plants named Frank. He is sarcastic, but also able to toy and tease ivy. The interaction between the two is quite genius writing.

 There is so much to say about the cast. Alan Tudyk is a legend to be able to play as Joker with his sardonic humor, and his emotions of hatred and jealousy towards Harley. Then being able to switch into Clayface, and spin a different tone from the Clown Prince of Crime.

 The presence of the Bat still looms in Gotham with Diedrich Bader once again taking up the cowl of the Dark Knight. From his tenure on Batman Brave And The Bold. Bader still brings the same charisma of the part, and actually gives a breath of comedy due to the wacky nature of the series.

 Also can’t forget Ivy is voiced by Lake Bell, and nails everything about the character. Definite MVP for the majority of the season so far.

 Many will ask how is the dynamic between Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. The seeds for there comic accurate relationship have definitely been planted, but at the same time, Ivy is in more of a sister role. In the show, Harley’s plot thread is that she just broke up with the Joker. Only due to Ivy stepping in and telling her to see past the guilt of stock holm syndrome. 

 Another thing to realize, Harley is trying to find Independence, and the world she inhabits is one that doesn’t take her seriously because she was a henchman or let alone female. Quinn eventually does and finds a crew of people like her. Many, who are forgotten from the world due to their appearance or moral actions. Then, Of course, there are zany side adventures, but they all loop around to the commentary of realizing how depressing the world of DC comics really is. 

 The Harley Quinn show brings a lot of that to light. Joker is abusive and treats Harley as a trophy. However, In reality, Joker doesn’t care about Harley. He only cares about his battle with Batman. Essentially the yin to his yang. 

 There is so much that this property reveals, and of course, there are tons of Easter eggs for eagle-eyed DC fans. However maybe we shouldn’t notice the colorful costumes, but the emotional state that these fictional characters inhabit through the actors bringing them to life.

 See the thing I started to realize is that every episode of this freshman season has a purpose or goal of sorts. The answer is to understand a moral or fact about life

 Just like Birds Of Prey with the title of the film being Emancipation. Harley is seeking to be her own woman. She longs to identity as her own self. Not just someone seeking refuge and acclaim as Joker’s punching bag. Huntress is looking to atone for her sins, and Black Canary is really kept in the shadows with a lot being kept under wraps.

 At this period of time, I can only guess and predict. However, one thing I can state and bring to light is that the DCEU is creatively groundbreaking due to the ingenuity of aesthetic. I truly feel that DC has found a way to compete with the mouse. The key is doing films that have there own identity, and direction from the mind of visionary directors. Todd Philips opened the door with Joker. Now the blueprint lies on the table let’s see what Cathy Yan does with Birds of Prey releasing Feb 7th this year.

 Also, remember if you want to see Harley Quinn take deep shade at the DC Universe while also revealing many hidden layers of ethos. Tune in every Friday on The DC Universe app.

 “Remember 2020 is the year of Harley Quinn, and this is her world. We’re just living in it”

[keenerparkerstark]

All I see is green (7/?)

Ship: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker feels on top of the world! Getting good grades in high school, spending time with Tony Stark (!!!) on his weekends, and at night, he roams the city as the hero known as Spider-Man! Everything changes when a new student shows up at Midtown who seems determined to take it all away from him.

AO3 | FF.net It did not take long for Mr. Stark, Harley and Peter to fall into an almost familiar rhythm together. They moved around the lab gracefully, passing around tools at each other’s slightest of whims, and barely spoke as they worked diligently. Mr. Stark and Peter were both bent over the Spider-Man suit, whispering and humming as they worked on their respective tasks, and Harley had crawled under the hood of one of Mr. Stark’s more neglected cars, switching out the engine in what had to be a record time, in Peter’s uneducated opinion.

They must have been a few hours in their work session when Harley’s phone disturbed the flow by ringing obnoxiously.

“Please, excuse me,” Harley muttered absentmindedly, dropping his tools on the tray next him and taking the phone out of his back pocket. Neither Mr. Stark nor Peter missed the little grin that appeared on his face as he recognised the caller and picked up quickly. He walked out of the lab to take the call, but not before the others heard him say: “Hi, Flash!” Oh… Peter turned back to the web shooter he was fine-tuning and tried to ignore the drop of his stomach.

Mr. Stark hummed in thought. “Flash? Is that the kid you mentioned-”

“It’s nothing,” Peter interjected firmly. His issues with Flash were his own. It would be unfair to turn Mr. Stark against a boy he had never even met before, especially since that boy was Harley’s best friend. He had told Mr. Stark about Flash before, when questions arose around the fresh bruises on Peter’s arm. He still remembered the way Mr. Stark’s reflection turned from anger to furiousness when Peter explained that he did not play hooky in order to go on patrol during school time, but instead was repeatedly thrown into walls and lockers as he walked down the hallway. Mr. Stark had demanded the kid’s name, and Peter had given in but not before he made Mr. Stark swear not to do or say anything. “I can take it,” he remembered pleading, “if you make him stop, he might start harassing somebody who is decidedly less equipped to take it.” Mr. Stark had reluctantly given in, because God knows that man would be a first-class hypocrite if he got on Peter’s case about being self-sacrificing, on the condition that Pete would be honest with him if it got any worse. Peter, of course, hadn’t.

“Peter, is Harley friends with the kid who used to bully you?” ‘Used to’, Peter mentally scoffed.

“Mr. Stark,” he replied firmly. “Whoever Harley is or is not friends with is respectfully none of our business.” Mr. Stark looked taken aback by Peter’s bluntness, not used to hearing such seemingly unprompted defiance from the teen.

“Dully noted,” he responded, keeping his eyes on Peter as the latter turned back to his web shooter. A silence fell over the pair once again, before it was broken once more by Mr. Stark’s voice, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I know I’ve broken your trust over the past week,” he spoke carefully, as if weighing every word before letting it leave his lips. “And I know I haven’t done nearly enough to make up for it. I also know you’ve probably already forgiven me a long time ago, despite what you may be telling your Aunt May, because your self-preservation skills are arguably worse than mine. I know you feel let down by me not informing you about Harley and his arrival. I know you feel like I don’t trust you, and yet demand of you to trust me. I understand that that level of trust takes time to be build back up again.” Peter felt warmth bubble up in his chest and a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes. Mr. Stark saw straight through him. Although he seemed to be missing one detail… “But Peter, I ask only one thing of you in the meantime. Be honest. Either to me or your aunt. We need to know what’s happening in your life, kid. I know you like to protect everyone around you, but God knows we want to keep you safe just as badly, okay? Talk to us.”

Peter could only nod as he furiously wiped as his eyes, stubborn tears spilling over onto his cheeks. At that moment, the door to the lab opened back up again and Harley stepped back inside, grin on his face.

“Tony, I have a favour to ask- Woah, is everything okay?” Harley felt the smile slip off his face as he noticed Tony’s serious expression and Peter’s red-rimmed eyes. The latter nodded and turned back to his project, whilst Tony nodded and scraped his throat.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Harley shook his head a little. Not for him to know, then. He ignored the slight twinge of… something… in his chest at the reminder that Tony and Peter had such a strong emotional connection and focussed on his mission.

“Ah, not much. My friend called me to ask if I wanted to come to a party he’s hosting this weekend,” he replied, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face at the memory, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “Apparently, it’s his birthday this week, and he invited the whole year group to come over and hang out at his place!” Tony grinned back at Harley, but behind him, Peter’s movements stilled for a split second, before resuming as if nothing had happened.

“That sounds fun! I’m glad you’re already making friends,” he responded, turning back to the Spider-Man suit as well. “Do you know if there will be alcohol involved?”

“I don’t know,” Harley responded honestly, “I don’t really know these people, what they’re like in that regard.” He picked up a tool and twirled it around in his hand, eyeing the car with scrutiny.

“Pete, you must know, right? What are the Midtown parties like?” Harley glanced over his shoulder to see Peter shrug in response to Tony.

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, bending even further over his work. Tony gave him a light shove, which didn’t seem to affect Peter at all.

“Mind your language, kid! What’s gotten into you?” At Peter’s lack of response, Tony’s head cocked as if realising something, and he leaned in close to Peter, whispering something Harley couldn’t catch. Peter simply shook his head in response, and Tony sighed, backing away. Harley watched them for a moment, before clearing his throat.

“I’ll be responsible, Tony,” he emphasised. “I’ll stay away from any alcohol, and I’ll call you if I want to leave, okay?” Tony looked up from his work and offered Harley a wide smile.

“I know, Harles.” Harley nodded and smiled back. Both men resumed their respective tasks, neither noticing Peter’s eye roll, and the comfortable silence returned.  

It’s incredible, really. The bustling nature of New York City, with its screaming, ever busy and hurrying inhabitants, it’s loud, honking cars and pigeon shit, so in-your-face and unavoidable. Yet it all faded into background noise when Peter was swinging. The feeling of the breeze on his face, and the roaring wind in his ears was all-encompassing, yet freeing, allowing Peter to take a break from his overactive senses to just exist.

“Hey, Spider-Man! Over here!” Well, ideally, that is…

Peter’s head snapped in the direction from where the sound came, a dingy alley way, and instantly changed course. The person who called him over did not appear to be in distress, but Peter wasn’t in a hurry. No harm done if he made a pitstop to talk to a Spider-Fan. Peter cringed at his own thoughts. For nothing other than dramatic effect, he decided to stick to the wall before rounding the corner into the alley way. From his position, just slightly overhead, he noticed that the person calling out to him was none other than Flash Thompson, who, if his frantic looking around was anything to go by, had completely lost track of Peter after calling him over. Peter decided to crawl across the wall until his face was mere inches from Flash’ neck before speaking up.

“You called?”

The resulting scream sounded like a dog’s squeaking toy, and Peter couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out in response. Flash turned around, dramatically clutching his chest, panting. He dropped his hands the second he registered who was across from him and took a deep breath, smoothing his hair and letting a sly smirk appear on his face.

“Hello, Spider-Man, I’m glad you’ve come.” Peter dropped to stand on the pavement in front of Flash as a show of seriousness. As intended, it spurred the latter on to resume talking.

“Uh, I was actually wondering if, uh… Would you like to come to my birthday party this weekend?” Under his mask, Peter’s eyebrows shot up. For a kid of a CEO, he is very bad at diplomacy.

“Your… birthday party,” Peter responded slowly, letting his voice modulator do its work. “Birthday… Wait, who are you again? Am I supposed to know you?” Peter is not proud of the satisfaction he felt when he saw Flash’ smile falter.

“Uh, maybe? My name’s Flash, I’m… You’ve saved my life, actually. You… you stole my dad’s… You know what, forget I said anything.” Flash turned around to walk away and Peter was surprised to find the satisfaction had grown heavy and now sat like a pit of guilt in his stomach. Oh, why did Ben and May raise me to be decent…

“Wait up!” Flash turned around to face Peter again, the look on his face still dejected. “I, I was just messing with you, Flash, of course I remember you!” The frown on Flash’ face turned into a blinding smile. “However… You gotta know, man, Spider-Man is not a party trick. You can’t book me, I’m not a clown-”

“No, I know,” Flash interjected. “I know, but I just…” He looked down. “There’s this guy I like… I’m trying to impress him, and I know he’s a big Spider-Man fan, and I’m hoping that seeing you there, and seeing us interact might-”

“You know what, fine,” Peter jumped in. “I can’t stay long. I’ll pop in, have a chat with you and I’m out, okay? I have better things to be doing.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Flash was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “Just in and out, that’s totally cool. Thank you so much, man!” Peter shook his head, envisioning Harley’s grin when he had come back from his phone call with Flash. He looked so happy. And if Peter can help him maintain that happiness… Well, he had something to make up for anyway. Peter sighed and jumped up against the wall again, crawling upwards, but not before turning around to Flash one last time.

“I’ve gotta be honest with you, man,” he spoke into the echoing alley. “If you want this guy to like you, just be yourself, okay?” Flash turned bright red and Peter turned around, vaulting himself onto the roof and off, slinging away.

[smartguyreviewed]

2x1 - Primary Brothers

Original air date: September 10, 1997

Season 2, what it do? Yes, the first season only had 7 whole episodes and now we are back. I hope everyone enjoyed heartwearming TJ in the last ep, because we’re getting a full push back into manipulative TJ. And what better setting for this little villain than politics?

It all starts with TJ, home from school and hoppin’ mad, slamming shit down and just letting his little lips pucker all the way out. The source of his ire is the broke ass science club at school. They have no money for anything cool. TJ, hon, you go to a predominately black public school that has no money for AP classes, so what did you expect? Go make some dry ice or something.

Floyd asks why Piedmont isn’t paying for its more intellectual extracurriculars and Yvette says the funds are allocated by the student council. It’s the reason why the Penguins got new gear even though their team is shitty. I get that Floyd is just trying to do his best here, but he’s completely out of touch by saying TJ should run for president. Yvette has to quickly shut that down by reminding TJ that it’s nothing but a popularity contest that a 10 year old has a chance in hell of winning. I personally remember when I foolishly ran for president in grade school. Quickly learned that nothing beats being tall, a guy and promising everyone Pokemon cards if they voted for you. This world is unfair, I tell you!

Even Floyd has to admit that Yvette is right, but TJ notoriously doesn’t take n for an answer and never accepts defeat. He decides to run anyway, with astoundingly bad results. These posters certainly don’t help. 

Yvette checks in on TJ after Mo chides him for not having food. He tells Yvette that he’s failing and she reminds him of the missing height and age that would make running easier. We know where this is going. In true political form, TJ decides to make someone his puppet. Enter Marcus, who isn’t interested at first, but the moment a cute girl shows up and strokes his ego just a teensy bit, he decides to run. TJ is so annoyed that he breaks the fourth wall.

Now we’re on the campaign trail and first up are the “science dorks” as Marcus so eloquently puts it. When they roll up on the clique, one of them actually flinches. I’m just confused because Marcus doesn’t seem to have a bullying bone in his body but apparently he pantsed this kid. Weird. After mispronouncing the name of a comet, Marcus gets clowned a bit, but reassures them that their issues will be heard.

Next up is the jock table and Marcus easily wins this one by promising them a peek at the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue after school. Ah, the days when you actually had to turn pages to get your fap on. 

Last but not least are the ladies. Now, if Marcus wanted to gain points in my book, he’d pressure the administration to get the girls free pads and tampons because they shouldn’t even have to buy them to begin with. Or he’d make sure to protect them from unwanted sexual attention on campus. But it’s okay because apparently, they don’t want those things either! All they want is a better sound system for dances. TJ is mad that Marcus is following his dick when the plan was to raise money for his science club.

Marcus however, has grown to like this and wants to continue to run alone. Good for you, Marcus! Don’t let that little pipsqueak boss you around. 

Yvette always seems to be around whenever she needs to point out the obvious to TJ, so here she is, reminding TJ that Marcus is popular and has a real chance at winning. TJ realizes he needs to nab someone else with that popular proximity. Enter Mo. Because TJ can’t just do one thing at a time, he figures he can both win this election and break up his brother’s only real friendship in one go. 

TJ is able to convince Mo that he’s in Marcus’s shadow because Mo is a lowly bass player and Marcus sings lead. But...it’s Marcus’s band! And what’s wrong with being a bass player? This doesn’t even make any sense for Mo to entertain because as we saw before, he clearly doesn’t even care what happens to the band as long as the puss keeps flowing. It’s really annoying to watch him blindly believe anything TJ says, especially when he’s not even really “friends” with TJ. Part of me would even think TJ is still mad about him getting kicked out of the band even though he deserved it. Wow, one bird and three stones, the third being possibly ruining Mackadocious.

Marcus comes around, being uncharacteristically mean to Mo and belittiling him for the plot’s sake. Mo naturally takes offense and now he has ammo to run against Marcus. TJ is a petty--yet brilliant-- little asshole.

At home, Marcus lets Floyd in on what’s been up and how he dropped TJ from his campaign that he didn’t even wanna run for in the first place. Daddy Flody is sad because for a moment because TJ and Marcus were actually getting along. Once he knows that Mo has replaced Marcus, he’s confused, The only one who wanted the damn science club fixings in the first place was TJ. I don’t get why he’s confused though. Doesn’t he remember what his son is capable of? He should totally know that TJ orchestrated all of this, but TJ just shrugs, pretending he doesn’t know why Mo of people is now his running mate. Do better, Flody.

Since this episode is about mudslinging and typical political treachery, Mo as TJ’s stand in is making fun of Marcus to the originally intended demographic. Yvette comes up to TJ and asks if he and his puppet are ready for the debate, and TJ deadass says Mo isn’t a puppet, “he’s a real boy.” Yvette just stopped by to say they’re filming the debate and she’s hosting. 

In the midst of all this sneaky fighting and smear campaigns, Marcus actually comes to Mo and tries to apologize for being a dick earlier. Aww, Marcus. Too bad TJ is about to shit all over this because he’s watching and once Mo hears this olive branch, TJ is able to convince Mo that Marcus is trying to bait-and-switch Mo to shake him up for the debate. Marcus insists that it is genuine but TJ wins Mo over by just telling him things to repeat. At this point, Marcus is over trying to be nice and says autonomy is the shit. Mo says fuck autonomy and leaves with TJ to prepare for the debate.

I love how Yvette leans into this husky, reporter voice for the television. She even put on her best two piece lilac suit. She introduces the candidates and is baffled when she realizes that Mo has had his extracurriculars beefed up. When Yvette asks when Mo was in all those clubs, TJ says since earlier that day and that he can prove it. I’m sure that he committed a crime here with these fake documents, but it’s pretty on brand for him to do, so whatever. The view count for the debate goes down when Yvette starts going off into how long each candidate has to talk about issues and honestly, I probably would have left, too. This is a high school student council election, for crying out loud. Her audience went from this:

To this:

Mo and Marcus get into a fight over the stupidest thing: who calls heads or tails. After they start elbowing each other, a physical fight breaks out. Again, TJ tries to break it up, even though he just, you know, only is the reason they’re fighting right now. Intervening gets TJ some new eye makeup. But TJ hasn’t learned shit because at home, nursing his black eye, he is still trying to manipulate the two into being friends again. 

Floyd has to remind TJ that hey, you can’t just play with people like that, even if you have good intentions. It finally sinks in that TJ could have very possibly ruined a friendship and broken up a band in one go. Floyd tells him to fess up to the boys and prepare for another ass whooping. Luckily, Mo and Marcus are guys and guys tend to resolve conflict--with each other--fairly fast. Mo comes over and gives something back to Marcus and just as he’s leaving, Marcus invites him back in to watch television. They chat and Mo reciprocates the olive branch with a pound. I really love these two together! They have so much chemistry that I honestly would be heartbroken if I learned that they stop talking after Smart Guy. Anyways, I ship it, Marcus x Mo forever. 

Stuff I noticed:

- Yvette is her middle name. Her first name is Tasha!

- Welp, guess the white guy is still president.

- Pretty sure this may not have been intentional, but I love that there is a black girl at the science dorks table. We love our black girl nerds!

[ericsonclan]

Pinterest Perfect

Summary: An overheard conversation leads Prisha to wonder what she'd want her own wedding to look like someday.

Read on AO3: 

Sophie and Marlon were eating lunch together in the break room when Prisha came in, planning to grab her coat before heading out for the day. As she passed by the table, she overheard some of the conversation they were having.

“Absolutely no meatballs at our wedding,” Marlon declared, taking another bite of his meatloaf.

“Really? I would have had you pegged as a meatball sub sorta dude,” Sophie replied, chewing on a carrot stick.

“Had a bad experience as a kid. Scarred me for life,” Marlon shivered before returning to his food.

“Well, we both know my number one rule…”

“No clowns,” the couple said in unison, fist bumping with a smile.

Prisha watched the conversation with amusement. She’d heard of this game the two of them liked to play: listing things they should and should not have at their wedding. It was some sort of ongoing joke between the couple, to continue casually planning their wedding even as they weren’t engaged or anywhere near that sort of thing. “Tell me, Sophie,” Prisha began, putting on her coat. “Do you think it ever could have been a real possibility that Marlon would arrange for clowns to come to your wedding?”

“Can never be too careful,” Sophie waggled the end of her carrot stick before popping it into her mouth. “Clowns show up when you least expect them. They’re sneaky that way,”

Prisha chuckled at her friend’s logic. “Well, you two have a good lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Bye, Prisha!” the couple called in unison before returning to their mock wedding plans.

Prisha smiled to herself as she headed out to her car. Planning out their wedding so causally with no actual arrangements in place. Those two really make quite the pair.

---

Once she was home, Prisha found herself lost as to what she would do with the rest of her day. It had been an unexpected half-day at work, the builders coming in early to begin work on improvements to the bar. Perhaps she would finally get around to clearing out her inbox. Sitting on her couch, Prisha opened her laptop and began the monotonous but rewarding process. A few minutes into the process, she accidentally clicked a Pinterest notification that popped up rather than the email she’d intended and was whisked off in a separate tab for the website. Prisha glanced with mild interest at her feed. She hadn’t used Pinterest in a while, mostly referencing it for inspiration when decorating her apartment as well as providing the occasional healthy recipe.

It was so easy to get sucked in again with all the aesthetic, perfectly framed images. One in particular caught Prisha’s eye: a girl in a white sundress standing in a field of sunflowers. The girl’s short blonde hair reminded her of Violet’s. As Prisha gazed at the picture, a thought wandered into her mind. That sort of looks like a wedding dress. As soon as the thought coalesced, Prisha felt her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Immediately she closed her computer, standing up to get the tea she’d been considering. Beginning the electric kettle, she tried to think of other things to distract herself, but her thoughts simply kept returning to Sophie and Marlon and that lighthearted wedding conversation they’d been planning. They made the whole discussion look so easy, so natural.

Prisha poured the hot water over her packet of Earl Grey, warily eyeing her laptop as it lay upon the couch. There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming, is there? Hesitantly, Prisha returned to her computer, opening it back up. The screen immediately displayed Pinterest again. As she clicked on the search bar, a menu of suggested searches popped down with several categories. Desserts, sunsets, DIY furniture… weddings. This site is reading my mind. Prisha gulped heavily before clicking on the Weddings option. What sort of rabbit hole had she let herself wander into?

There were endless ideas for weddings on Pinterest: color schemes, flower arrangements, wedding gowns, cakes, there seemed to be an infinitesimal number of things to take into consideration when planning a wedding. Scrolling through the feed, Prisha found her eyes drawn to the wedding dresses first. There were so many options, so many different styles. Long, short, fitted, flowy, the fashion choices seemed infinite. Prisha gazed at a fitted mermaid, lace dress for several seconds, entranced by it. Could I pull something like that off? The woman in the photo appeared to have a similar body type. What would Violet think?

Violet always seemed to like whatever Prisha was wearing. There hadn’t been a single time where she’d said anything against a single one of Prisha’s outfits. Truth be told, she probably didn’t think about fashion very much, but her eyes did light up a certain way when she noticed Prisha was wearing one of her favorites: the cranberry red cocktail dress, that one pair of jeans that always did wonders for Prisha’s butt, her warm grey cardigan that was extra snuggly on cold nights. Whatever Prisha chose, she wanted it to make Violet’s eyes sparkle in that way.

I don’t know why I’m talking as though this is an inevitability, Prisha scolded herself. Marriage wasn’t even something that either of them had put on the table. But rather than continuing to scold herself on the likelihood of this even happening, Prisha found her mind back on the wedding dress train. Would they both wear dresses? She’d never seen Violet in a suit before. The girl didn’t own anything fancier than a jean jacket. Prisha found herself liking the idea of them both wearing dresses more and more though. Perhaps in different styles so they’d both stand out. Violet could wear something comfortable, maybe one of those cute shorter dresses with the pockets. They didn’t have to both be in white either. Prisha wondered how a cream dress would look against her own skin. There was a particularly lovely gray dress that she quite fancied too…

Amongst all the wedding dresses there were a myriad of other wedding ideas too. Prisha found the outdoor weddings to be the loveliest. It would be beautiful to be married under the trees with the natural light breaking through the branches and scattering upon us. Then at night we could dance under the stars. There were several photos of trees covered in twinkle and curtain lights. Such a simple touch truly brought magic with it. After coming across a particularly lovely photo of just such an arrangement, Prisha finally bit the bullet and made a secret board for herself so she could keep track of her favorite photos. Scrolling back up a ways, she collected several other pins that had caught her eye before returning to the point where she had been.

There were so many elaborate weddings, ones that looked as though they would be massively expensive. I believe we’d both want to keep things simple, Prisha thought to herself. A small ceremony with only our closest friends. Things like the cake and the bouquet could be kept simple as well. A white cake, classic, with some flowers curling round its tiers. Violets would be too on the nose and probably just irk Violet. Prisha didn’t see any cakes with them, but she wondered to herself if it would be possible to decorate a cake with morning glories. After all, Violet was her Morning Glory, it would be lovely to have that special name be celebrated at their wedding.

I’m smiling like a fool, aren’t I? Prisha thought, feeling the expression tug at the corner of her lips. No matter. It wasn’t as though there were anybody about to see her giddiness. Should we both have bouquets or just one of us? Would we walk up the aisle together? One at a time? Prisha supposed with all these things it would come down to what worked best for them. She’d never really considered being walked down the aisle, but Prisha supposed that if her father weren’t there to walk her down the aisle as would likely be the case, she’d rather do it on her own or not at all. Violet on the other hand… Would Louis walk her down the aisle? Prisha chuckled aloud at the thought. She knew Louis would be absolutely ecstatic about that idea. He’d probably fight off anyone else who tried to take the role, though Prisha didn’t think Mitch or Marlon would put up much of a fight.

Ringbearers, flower girls… Willy could be the ring bearer. Prisha was quite fond of the boy. Then again Violet was very much attached to Tenn. Why not both? Then A.J. as the flower boy. Probably not, Prisha thought with a smile imagining the chaos that would ensue with those three together. But it’s certainly an entertaining thought. Bridesmaids and brides.. men? Why not both? That seems to be the theme of this whole ceremony, Prisha thought wryly. Clementine and Louis were most likely to take the positions of honor among the wedding party, making the toasts and planning the bachelorette parties.

Ruby and Omar would likely take on the catering for the wedding while Renata handled the cake. Prisha was sure come hell or high water, Ruby would get involved in other aspects of the wedding as well: dress shopping, flower arrangements, wedding decorations. Considering how excited Ruby got during themed nights at Ericson’s Diner, that excitement was sure to rise tenfold for a wedding. Thinking of their friends and coworkers getting involved in wedding prep filled Prisha with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Prisha could just imagine all of them coming together and helping make this dream a reality. Perhaps I should look at rings next.

The sound of the front door unlocking had Prisha jumping off the couch in fright. Violet stood in the doorway, a to-go bag in one hand and the key to Prisha’s apartment in the other. She looked apologetically at her girlfriend. “Shit, did I scare you? Louis asked to switch shifts with me so I got off early. Picked up some food on the way here. Figured we could make a night of it, have an early dinner, but if you’re busy-”

“Not at all,” Prisha declared, closing the tab and slamming her laptop shut. She threw it off to the side where it landed upon a beige pouf she kept off in the corner. “What sort of food did you bring?”

“Thai. Figured we’d switch things up,” Violet closed the door behind her and walked over into the kitchen, beginning to take out the various boxes of food she’d carried within the bag. Prisha came over to help her. Violet glanced up and a shy smile crossed her face before she looked away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Violet paused. “You’re wearing the earrings I got you,”

Prisha’s hand came up instinctively, brushing against one of the earrings. It had been a six-month anniversary present: a gold pair of earrings, a moon and a star. Prisha knew they were far nicer than anything Violet owned herself. “I love them. They match with everything too,”

Violet nodded. “I thought they would,” She glanced over at the television. “So… Cutthroat Kitchen tonight?”

“Sounds perfect,” They’d soon found the show to be the perfect combination of strategy and chaos to keep both of them entertained. After grabbing their food, both girls settled down on the couch, ready for a night of relaxation. Raising her legs up, Violet put them across Prisha’s lap without another thought. Prisha smiled. Violet had been so nervous about physical touch when they first started dating. It was nice to see how far they’d come together.

Running her hand absentmindedly along her girlfriend’s leg, Prisha glanced over at her abandoned laptop. The board she’d made for herself seemed like a faraway dream now. But being here with Violet, Prisha knew it wasn’t simply a fantasy for her. It was something she wanted, not quite yet, but someday. And every day with Violet made that someday feel closer and closer. With that thought in mind, Prisha grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

[sparklyjojos]

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [8/13]

In which we meet the children, Ajiro becomes a Big Damn Hero, and the detectives get a tour combined with even more explanations about magic.

--

Waiting for the morning of January 19th to arrive, Ajiro and Kirigirisu discuss the case once more.

If Tamako was murdered, then how? Did seeing the curtain change colors shock her to death? Kirigirisu muses that since the family is full of magicians, maybe someone hypnotized her in such a way that the color change was a signal for her to drop dead. Ajiro replies that it’s not plausible; hypnosis can’t actually make the subject do something they wouldn’t want to do on at least some level. Hypnotizing even someone with suicidal tendencies into dying would be pretty hard. A more plausible option is that Tamako was already dead before her wheelchair was moved to the stage. If so, then Akiko who brought her there would be the obvious suspect.

The problem is that Akiko was the next person to die. However, if her death really was a murder, then the culprit chose a very unreliable killing method, so maybe it really was just an accident.

Yuuta’s death was likely a murder. The witnesses claimed they saw a man digging a hole in the sand, but maybe that man was actually the culprit burying the body.

Daisen could very well have been murdered; if Takayoshi made it into the mountains and performed the switch without being spotted, then an assassin also could have hidden somewhere. Ajiro theorizes that maybe Yuuta went to Tottori using Daisen’s car, then got murdered, which would make Daisen believe he himself was the intended target. Of course, everything is just a hypothesis.

“The first thing we should be trying to learn is who is targeting who,” Ajiro says. “The target may be Fujita-gumi, but at the same time it may be the Saimons… I think we should keep an eye on the Tsukumos and Tousens as well. I don’t really have a tangible plan on how to do it yet, but—Tensui, you’re here, aren’t you.”

The sliding door to their room moves aside revealing Tensui standing quietly in the dark hallway.

“I had a feeling someone was there,” Ajiro says without surprise while Kirigirisu as always has to take a moment to calm down his pulse.

Just like before, the conversation between the three is done through writing. Tensui proposes that he and Miku will keep the Saimon household under close observation throughout the day.

Kirigirisu has a strange feeling that maybe Tensui is actually the murderer, grasping the chance to get closer to his next victim… but no, that would be stupid, considering the next victim may not even live in Kami-Saimon, and with two Tensuis in existence one could still move freely even if the other one was stuck somewhere.

The detectives can likely trust Takayoshi to keep an eye on the Fujita household too. That awkward anxious man is the last person Kirigirisu would suspect of murder.

This leaves one problem: if one Tensui is going to be watching his family all day, how will he know what the other Tensui is doing and if he’s not in danger?

Do not worry about it, Tensui writes. Whenever I’m out and about, the other I always secludes himself in the shrine. No one other than us can enter it.

By “the shrine”, he means the building on the little island in the middle of the garden’s pond. Before Tensui leaves the room to hide, he asks them to show up at the pond a little later.

--

In the morning, Ajiro and Kirigirisu take a walk through Kami-Saimon’s splendid garden, wondrous in the middle of a bright winter day. The shrine Tensui talked about is visible on the little island at their big koi pond, Ryuugaike. With its octagonal base and roof, the shrine looks highly similar to the famous Yumedono, the “Hall of Dreams” of Houryuu-ji Temple in Ikaruga.

Once the detectives make a circle around the pond, Kirigirisu realizes that not only does the shrine not have any visible entrance, there isn’t even a bridge leading to the island.

“The shrine is called Seiryoin,” Ajiro informs him.

Seiryoin… Kirigirisu imagines it might be written 清涼院 [like the JDC writer’s name], a fitting name for this “pure” and “bright” “temple”. Ajiro doesn’t actually know how the name is supposed to be written, but his pick would be 静療院, a temple of “quiet” “recuperation”. Maybe neither way is correct, who knows.

The detectives are waiting on the shore for Tensui when someone suddenly appears next to them. “Suddenly appears” seems like the right phrase to use, considering the man’s footprints begin in the middle of the snowy field as if he teleported there.

The man is, even more surprisingly, not Soga Tensui, but that quiet contemplative man who played the afro clown in the show: Saimon Akio. (Tamako’s grandson, Akiko’s son, Takayoshi’s and Taishi’s brother.)

“Good morning! Indeed what a good morning we have,” Akio greets them with a kind expression. “But more importantly—look over there!”

He points towards the island, where in front of their very eyes Soga Tensui emerges from the doorless shrine, seemingly phasing out through the stone wall. Then he starts walking into the lake—no, walking on the lake, getting only his soles wet, and casually makes it to the other side away from the detectives. His famous Sea Walk.

“Anyway, I’m going to be the one guiding you around today,” Akio says. It’s only expected, seeing as Tensui will be busy keeping an eye on the house.

--

Akio gives them a sightseeing car trip around town—Tsuwano is small enough that it’s not a far journey. The detectives climb the local torii to get a full look at the town from up high. It’s easy to notice where the Tsukumos and Tousens live; it’s a surprisingly wide space south of town, full of various buildings and trailer houses. The two families’ houses are actually connected with Shimo-Saimon into one complex, demonstrating just how closely their lives are intertwined. The entire complex is called Sanasou (山烏荘)—a strange wordplay on the phrase “the trio’s house” (三羽烏の家).

Akio drives them to Sanasou. As soon as they arrive, they spot a few snowmen and a lot of tiny footprints on the ground, and then several curious children come running their way, some happily shouting seeing Akio. A few kids are still holding snowballs; it seems the adults interrupted one fierce battle.

The oldest child present is Tousen Matoki, looking around grade school age and acting like he’s the kids’ leader.

“Look, look!” Matoki does the thing where you put your right hand in your left jacket sleeve and left hand in your right sleeve, and makes an attempt at a dignified princely expression. “I’m Shoutoku Taishi!”

“Oh come on, Maji-chan, you do this every time,” comments the girl next to him. It’s Matoki’s sister Yomiko, the one who played Koyomi. She may have looked older on stage, and may have seemed a bit creepy with her staring back that one time, but with kids her age around she turns out to be a really nice girl. The nickname Maji-chan probably came from an alternative reading of Matoki’s name and is of course a horrible pun on the word “magician”.

Matoki and Yomiko act quite brave and natural in front of adults they barely know. In comparison, the other girl present—Tsukumo Emu—is hiding behind Yomiko’s back, and even further behind them, keeping careful distance, staring at the adults cautiously, are Tensui’s twin sons, Juku and Joukei.

The twins look pretty much identical, but after several meetings with the family Kirigirisu has learned to somewhat differentiate between them. Joukei is the one lacking confidence and with constant scared look in his eyes. Juku’s eyes just seem emotionless and unimpressed. Though their intense, somehow unnaturally pretty stares are filled with different emotions, they equally make Kirigirisu feel like his consciousness is trying to slip away.

It’s hard to believe that either of the twins would play the cheerful, energetic role of Kotensui. The puppet’s voice must have been dubbed over by another boy.

Apparently the twins got here from Kami-Saimon on their bikes to play with the other children.

“Chisato and Chiaki already got here too,” Joukei informs in a timid voice.

Juku mutters something too low to be heard.

“What did you say, Juku-sama?” Yomiko asks. (Why the ultra-honorifics among children?, Kirigirisu thinks in surprise.)

Beautifully expressionless Juku mutters the same thing a bit louder. It sounds like Kudaranai… Ima wa kudaranai yo… Huh? “This is stupid”? “It’s useless now”? What is?

Before Kirigirisu can figure it out, they hear a woman scream at the top of her lungs.

“Ria! Koma! NEMU!”

Everyone turns to see the most unusual scene. Two Shetland Sheepdogs are running towards them at breakneck speed, pulling a sled with a crying tiny girl—Tsukumo Nemu—and being chased by the trio of Nemu’s terrified mother Yumeji, Matoki and Yomiko’s mother Maki, and the only still single Tsukumo sibling Ranma. Several white doves are flying around in chaos.

“What the… Nemu, watch out!” Akio shouts and runs towards her, Ajiro instantly joining his side.

Before they can reach the sled, the dogs see them approach and react with a sudden swerve, the force involved sending little Nemu flying high in the air.

In an instant, something similar to two long poles zooms past Kirigirisu. He glances back: Kotensui’s Magic Hands are being deployed out of Juku’s sleeves. They reach towards Nemu, and barely, just barely—

—miss their mark.

But Ajiro is already close enough, jumps in the air and grabs the girl before she can hit the ground. Nemu is safe in his arms.

Once everyone catches their breath, the newly arrived adults explain what happened. The dog sled is a toy strictly for the older kids. Nemu had to jump on when no one was looking, scaring the dogs and making them run for the hills.

The white doves flying around belong to Tsukumo Ranma, who takes care of the family’s aviary. Though in his late twenties, he still has a lot of a cheerful child left in him, and perhaps because of that all the kids in the family love him. When the sled incident happened, he was in the middle of loading doves up his sleeves to surprise the children with a Channing Pollock-style illusion, and the birds got out in the chaos.

Teary-eyed Yumeji thanks again and again for saving her daughter. It looks like Ajiro became an instant hit with the kids, too, graduating from an adult stranger to someone they can trust. Even shy Joukei and Emu, even stoic Juku are all smiling at him.

For some reason, Juku’s look of approval and respect towards Ajiro leaves an especially deep impression on Kirigirisu.

--

Akio leads them to the training studio. A few girls are already there: Chisato and Chiaki (Akio’s daughters) along with Akiko (Taishi’s daughter) are training their ribbon-hula hoop routine, while slightly older Tsukumo Seika observes them with a critical eye. The girls stop, not wanting to show the secret to outsiders, but Akio assures them it’s fine; Tensui actually wants them to explain the method to the detectives. Akio leaves for a moment to change into his costume while the girls perform the illusion.

Just like in the show, the girls dance with ribbons which suddenly turn into hula hoops. Chiaki and Chisato successfully make their moving hoops link together, Akiko approaches with her own, and—all the hoops clang down to the ground.

“What are you doing, Akiko?!” Seika yells.

While Akiko is staring on the floor with tears in her eyes, Kirigirisu takes a glance at the hoops… which turn out not to be as normal as he thought.

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” says Akio, suddenly showing up next to them in his clown costume, though without makeup. (How can this man just keep appearing out of thin air?) He picks up a hula hoop and it suddenly returns to being a ribbon with a sound like tape measure retracting.

Akio explains that the ribbon-hoop is a magic prop. What looks like the ribbon’s handle is actually hiding the entire hoop, which can zoom out telescopically in an instant. The resulting hula hoop isn’t actually a closed ring, but has an opening small enough that it can’t be seen while moving fast. The illusion of the Linking Hula Hoops is basically an unusual variation of the famous Linking Rings.

“But linking the hoops while moving so fast… could anyone accomplish such a feat?” Kirigirisu asks despite having already witnessed it a few times.

“We are the Circus of Magic,” Akio says. “Any illusion requires training to polish one’s technique, especially circus acts combined with magic. That’s why these girls are practicing hard every day.”

“And apparently can’t focus at all lately!” Seika comments harshly, but calms down a little when Akio asks her to demonstrate a few more illusions with him.

Akio and Seika first set up the little table from two planks; this too is apparently a special tool that can be bought in a magic shop. Then Akio produces three red balls out of nowhere and passes them to Seika, who turns them white with a stroke. Kirigirisu inspects the balls and realizes they are reversible, just like that handkerchief changing colors that Tensui showed him. (Even stern Seika looks tickled seeing Kirigirisu’s child-like joy as he keeps changing the ball’s color back and forth.)

Akio demonstrates the next part: turning the balls into long pins by inserting them into an empty tube.

“Are you familiar with Doraemon?” he asks.

“Dorae… it that also an illusion?” Kirigiru doesn’t understand why the girls start laughing at him when he says this.

“It’s a very popular comic for children.”

“I’m familiar with it,” Ajiro says. “My son Souya is a fan, so we’ve read through it many times. I think it’s a masterpiece.”

A short explanation on Doraemon follows. Kirigirisu finds the premise fascinating (a time-travelling cat robot from the 22nd century who has a four-dimensional pouch?!) and decides he and Kano will have to check it out later.

Akio invites him to watch the illusion again, but standing behind the table this time. He sets the tube on the table, then retrieves a white pin from inside his clown costume’s front pocket (maybe not as spacious as Doraemon’s pouch, but still big) and hides it behind the tube. So that’s how something can magically appear “from the inside” when the tube is lifted.

Kirigirisu inspects the tube closer and realizes the opening facing up is slightly narrower than the one on the bottom… and that’s because there’s something similar to a small pocket around that opening, where the squishable balls can be hidden. A spectator looking through the tube from its bottom end wouldn’t notice anything suspicious.

Next, another illusion making use of the spectators’ limited angle of view. Akio holds one ball between his fingers and with swift movements makes it magically multiply into three… except the two additional balls are actually just two empty half-spherical shells. What seemed like a single ball actually had those two shells covering it. It’s a variation of the popular illusion known as the Multiplying Billiard Ball.

Finally, Akio performs the Five-Ball Cascade for them, five balls changing colors from white to red in mid-air as they’re juggled. The secret here is astonishingly simple: the balls used for this particular routine have their halves colored differently, white on one side and red on the other. The rest of the act is just a matter of practice.

“A different method is used for the pins changing colors,” Akio explains. “Do you know what that could be, Ajiro?”

“Using a mirror, I think.”

Judging by the girls’ expressions, Ajiro got it right, but Kirigirisu doesn’t understand how on earth a mirror could be used that way.

Each of the three girls takes two white pins and stands in a triangle formation, while Seika heads slightly behind them… and disappears into thin air. The three girls start the juggle, but eventually sneakily throw the white pins behind them where they disappear, only for red pins to be thrown back instead. It’s not that Seika disappeared; she hid behind a large mirror to help with the act.

Kirigirisu understands now how Akio was able to appear out of thin air earlier. Mirrors.

Akio gets to the next illusion. He takes an empty beer bottle, puts it inside his hat… no, just pretends to put it there, while actually hiding it in his chest pocket. So that’s how. The sweets were likewise produced out of his spacious pocket rather than from the hat.

Finally, Akio gives them what looks like a remote control with a small lever, encouraging them to play with it for a second while he’s changing back into normal clothes. The lever turns out to move the arms of those tall three-armed fire stands from the show, opening and closing them back inwards like an umbrella. The stands are designed in such a way that fire can be extinguished in an instant by pushing the arms into the stand.

“Juku’s Magic Hands are a similar mechanical device, though a lot more complicated,” Akio says once he joins them again, then announces that this would be enough explanations for the day.

--

Akio continues to guide them around the place. He leads them to another building—for some unknown reason called Shakuya (杓屋)—where two hammer sharks are swimming in a giant tank under the watchful eye of their caretaker, Tsukumo Souma, the hunchbacked man who’s little Nemu’s father. He doesn’t seem to be one for much conversation.

As they leave the building, they bump into Ranma again—and thank god, because his calming personality is somewhat needed after those sharks. Ranma shows them around the aviary filled with countless dove cages surrounding a cramped aisle in the middle. There’s a particularly big mysterious box with closed double doors in the back.

“Do you keep birds in there too?” Ajiro asks.

“Oh, no. There’s just this big figure of a dove inside. We’ve had it for ages, it serves the role of a god protecting the birds. We call it Onikaru-sama.”

The detectives have already met Ranma, Souma and Miku, so it’s time to head to the main part of Sanasou and meet the fourth Tsukumo sibling, Tsushima, the man looking like a bank employee. That first impression turns out to be close to life, as the man manages the show’s finances, looking as stressed as one can expect considering how much debt they’re in. He’s constantly busy and doesn’t really want to talk to anyone. As they’re leaving, they spot the man’s nervous son, Touji, who quickly hides somewhere.

Tsukumo Karan (Seika’s mother who played the Courtisane Hana Dayuu) then shows them to a room in which elderly Tsukumo Tamako and Tousen Tamako are resting in beds next to each other, under full-time care of Tousen Natsuko. In another room Tsukumo Mitama is similarly caring for her husband Gensui (the old one, known as the magician Soga Tengen in his days).

They quickly leave as to not disturb the seniors. Akio tells the detectives about how decades ago, shortly after the war, the show’s most splendid illusion was the underwater escape as performed by Soga Tengen. One day during practice his son Souma forgot to lock the cage, resulting in the shark viciously biting Tengen. The magician survived, but would never be able to move on his own again. Thirty years later, Tengen still leads his life in bed constantly cared for by his wife Mitama, while Souma still continues to raise sharks in a neighboring building despite protests from a few family members.

The tour comes to an end around noon. Ajiro calls Daisetsu and Miku in turn, making sure everything is fine in the Fujita residence and in Kami-Saimon. Daisetsu says that maybe Ajiro saving Nemu prevented the day’s unlucky accident, so they have nothing to worry about now. Maybe the case is going to stop here? Indeed nothing happens until late evening, so Ajiro and Kirigirisu head to the same bar as the previous night, meeting up with Daisetsu, Takayoshi and Uyama (somehow with an even more pronounced way of sighing “oh, oh!” now) as well as with Hyousen’s son Hyousai. Surely nothing bad will happen before midnight.

Shortly before midnight, they get a message that Tsukumo Mitama was found dead in the bath, where she must have fallen and drowned. It is later ruled as an unfortunate accident.

The case is nowhere near to being over.

--

A month later, on February 19th, Saimon Akio dies due to electrocution when the water filter at the pond malfunctions killing him and all the fish he’s been taking care of. When the body is found, all the water in the pond is dyed red.

--

A month later, on March 19th, Saimon Chisato is found dead from blood loss after apparently cutting off her hand using the Arm Guillotine prop. It is noted that she has been suffering emotional instability from stress related to the Case.

--

A month later, on April 19th, Fujita Daisetsu collapses on his way home from the bar and is taken to the hospital, where he dies from alcohol poisoning.

--

None of the eight cases so far have been deemed suspicious by the police, all of them ruled as either death from natural causes, accidents or suicides. Nevertheless, this perfectly spaced string of cases can’t possibly be a natural occurrence.

Who is the target and who is targeting them?

Perhaps the next month will show us the Case’s another face—or should we say, a mask.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[garden-uprooted]

☆ MORE spinel headcanons?? um?? yes please??? 

i don’t really have a general category for these this time around. this is moreso just stuff that i’ve been thinking about and wanna get down <3 ☆

- Spinel is a lot like Pearl, as in she expresses herself with her hands very often. Different hand positions and placements can mean different things/moods! 

- She kind of holds herself in very high regards, even if she doesn’t process it 24/7. She’s an “uppercrust”, after all, and she was naturally raised as such. Her ego (that is VERY much so existent) kind of contributes to her “I’ll do whatever I want” attitude. 

- Going briefly back to the Pearl similarities, she compartmentalizes her memories (and even personal objects) much like Pearl does. Just not... anywhere near as literally. She enjoys neatness, however, and if somebody was to ever somehow go into her gem, they’d find stacks and stacks of random objects she found and picked up on Earth all organized and categorized by shape and color. And yes. She stacks everything, somehow, so that they’re all evenly balanced; even when she pulls out several of the same object. How do they all stay like that, you may ask? Cl. Clown. She is a cl- 

- She is prone to freak outs and anxiety attacks. Don’t even tell me she’s not, it’s literally canon.

- She dissociates. Like a lot. Like a LOT a lot. It’s especially noticeable whenever she’s being a prick/hurting people. She’s already having to endure so much stress and trauma; being terrible to other people is an unhealthy way for her to let out some of those unwanted emotions. Her brain just wants to vent without adding guilt to the pile, so she kind of switches all of that off without intending to so she can be ruthless without regretting it later.

- Certain textures squick her out. If something is TOO overly soft or fuzzy, or even sometimes just somebody else’s skin on hers, it’s typically way too much for her to handle. She won’t flip out right away, nine times out of ten, but she isn’t afraid of expressing her distaste for something; regardless of how many times prior she might’ve just grinned and endured it. 

- She has a tendency to give things names. That rat over there? Oh, that’s just Henry, he’s chillin’. Your coffee maker? That’s Susan and she’s very nice. Very helpful. The dog chasing her down the street for the HUNDREDTH time? That’s ROBERTO and he’s a JERK. She just likes doing it. It helps her to become more familiar with things and objects so that she... remembers them. 

- Continuing off of that: her memory is.. NOT what it used to be. Either due to trauma reasons, or due to her new defects due to being off-color, Spinel can easily forget very minor things throughout her days. Sometimes even major things! And considering the fact that it used to be IMPECCABLE, and that those 6,000 years feel like NOTHING to her, in retrospect, now, it...... REALLY really bothers her. A lot. 

- Despite the fact that she’s trying to put herself out there and make new friends, she’s... really just acting. All of her relationships (not counting with Steven, The Diamonds, and Pink Pearl/the Homeworld Pearls) are about as fake as they come. Her heart isn’t it, anymore. She’s just too raw, still; too emotionally and socially distant from other people. Not to say she doesn’t care about her “friends” LIKE they’re friends!! But she just- can’t live in the present. She’s convinced herself that every person she knows/meets will eventually, at some point, move on and forget all about her. She treats it like a fact, and thus builds up walls while she patiently waits to be used and thrown away, again.

- Spinel is an EXCELLENT actor. She’s familiar with theatre, after all! Unless you’re somebody close to her, she’s a seamless, pathological liar. Lying makes her feel guilty in any other circumstance, but if she doesn’t have some kind of emotional connection to you, then she doesn’t really see a reason to care. 

- She tends to laugh away everything just on impulse. Did somebody trip and fall on their face? She’ll snort. Is somebody crying, again? Oh, THAT’S hilarious! Is she being yelled at? Oh BOY! What a HOOT! Does she actually find that stuff funny? Most of the time, no; not at all. Laughing just feels better than being upset about it. 

- She’ll latch onto meme/Gen Z culture once she learns about it- even if she really doesn’t understand it at all. I.E: 

Steven: Hey, Spinel, what’re you gonna be for Halloween? 

Spinel: Sexy Minecraft.

Steven: Spinel, N-

- She experiences sensory overloads! It doesn’t happen all that often, but some days things are just- too loud and too hectic. Even if not a whole lot is actually going on at the time, even just the sound of the ocean can be too overwhelming for her. 

- She enjoys origami! She likes making tiny boats and setting them on water. It’s fun, relaxing, and rewarding! 

- She... really only sees a lot of things on the surface level, when it comes to the nuance of friendships and relationships. If she REALLY really likes somebody, like.. a lot, and they ask her out, like.. romantically? She’ll SAY yes, and she has NO issues with being intimate with a person, but when it comes to kissing- to fully returning the underlying passion? She’ll be uncomfortable, she won’t understand it. Of course she KNOWS what romance is (in theory), but all she truly sees is just... friendship with extra steps. She only felt true passion, true romantic feelings, for Pink, and those went unrequited. Not to say that, with time, she won’t learn to return any feelings of attraction toward her that go beyond platonic! She’ll just... feel and express them much differently than what’s considered “normal” or “average”. 

- Spinel understands and comprehends relationships on a very juvenile level. She GETS nuances, and she’s actually pretty darn good at picking up on social cues. She isn’t a literal child, and don’t you dare treat her as such. But anything beyond a friendship, or a best friendship, won’t fully click with her. And even then, her idea of relationships is somewhat skewed due to her experiences and time with Pink. For the sake of simplicity, she just tends to/tries to look at the world in black and white, despite KNOWING that’s not how it all works.

[hysterialevi]

Lotus pt. 4 (Batjokes)

Author’s note: First off, I just want to say thank you guys for all the nice comments you’ve been sending me. I’m so glad to see how much you’re all loving this, and it really makes my day to receive those messages. So thanks again, and enjoy :)

From Avesta’s POV

THE MORGUE

Taking one last look at Bruce’s damaged corpse before they slid it into the cold chamber, I thought back to when I first found him during the attack at Wayne Enterprises, suddenly regretting that I didn’t end his misery right then and there.

The poor man died believing he had no one left, and it certainly didn’t help that Waller treated him like a lab rat during his final moments. I knew the Director had her reasons for using Bruce as a test subject, considering how hard it was to find living victims of Lotus, but human experimentation just...didn’t sit right with me. This was war, yes, but if we stripped ourselves of our humanity...then we’d already lost. I should’ve pulled the trigger when I had the chance.

Approaching Bruce, I bowed my head respectfully and gazed at his blistered, scarred face, drowning in disbelief that the Joker actually managed to take him down. Bruce and I may not have ended on the best of terms, but it was still  clear to me how much he cared about Gotham. He always did what he thought was best for others, and never showed fear. The fact that someone finally beat him, even with all his resistance...it was more than discouraging. I let out a despondent sigh, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill.

“...I’m...I’m sorry we couldn’t save you, Bruce,” I softly said, trying not to break down. “Even though we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye all the time, you were a friend to me. And I know how much you sacrificed to help make this city a better place. My only regret is that it never helped you in return. That I never helped. I just hope you can find peace now...wherever you are.”

I took a breath, gently placing a hand on top of Bruce’s in a comforting manner. It was unsettling, how...dead...he felt. Even just by touching his skin, I could tell he was no longer breathing. Something about him just...lacked that human warmth I was so used to. It made me think of when Bruce and I investigated Riddler’s body, and it was just one more reminder that he was truly gone for good. I pushed those memories away and focused on the present, regardless of how hard it was to think about. 

“...Don’t worry,” I reassured, tightening my grip. “Your death won’t be in vain. The Agency will hunt down Joker, and we will ensure he’s brought to justice. Harley too. Gotham will be safe. You just rest easy now. It’s the least you deserve...after everything you’ve done.”

I heard a pair of footsteps sneak up behind me.

“Saying goodbye, Avesta?

Whipping around at the sudden intrusion, I found Director Waller prowling towards me with that signature glare of hers as she eyeballed Bruce’s body, barely phased by it. When did she get here? Had she been watching this whole time? I quickly blurted out an explanation.

“I wanted to see Bruce one last time before they put him away.” I said, almost ashamed for some reason. “He was a friend of mine, despite our arguments. I just wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

Waller nodded in understanding and straightened her glasses, linking her hands behind her back. 

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s in shock. The rest of the Agency also believed he’d be able to pull through. Everyone was really rooting for him. Bruce had already survived so much longer than the average victim...well, I suppose we all just got too hopeful.”

I gazed at the floor, hesitant to express my true feelings about the situation. “What...what are you gonna do with him...?” I asked. “Are you going to give him a proper burial?”

Waller gave me a look that said she’d been expecting this question. 

“There will be a service held at Divinity Church, but we can’t give up the body just yet.”

“Why not?” I said, sounding more defensive than I intended. “Bruce dedicated his last moments to us -- to our research. The least we can do is repay him by letting him die with grace. He deserves to be buried with his parents. Not kept in some refrigerator at the morgue.”

Waller’s glare intensified at that comment.

“I understand your frustration, Avesta,” she replied, trying her best to stay calm, “but we can’t allow sentiment to get in the way of our work. It sounds cruel, but Bruce is our best chance at finding a solid cure for this damned virus. Not to mention Blake’s informed me about the unrest surrounding his death. When someone as big as Wayne is killed by the Joker, it’s inevitable people will panic. I’ll have to address Gotham’s civilians at some point. Try and ease their nerves. For the moment though, the body stays here. Understand?”

Biting my tongue to prevent myself from protesting further, I reluctantly decided to go along with Waller’s plan, and dropped the argument for now, sighing in disappointment.

“Of course, Director. I...I understand.”

“Good,” she said bluntly, “then we’ll never have this conversation again.”

Marching past me before I could say anything else, Waller took hold of the tray supporting Bruce’s body and firmly slid it forwards, shoving him into the cold chamber with a metallic thud as she shut the door tight. Meanwhile, I stood idly by, powerless to stop her no matter how much I wanted to.

“Well,” Waller straightened her suit, “now that that’s done, we have other problems to deal with. I’ve heard reports saying that Joker’s been spotted poking around Wayne Manor. Seems like the clown wasted no time in taking advantage of Bruce’s death.”

He’s not the only one, I thought to myself.

“We need to go there now,” the Director continued, heading for the morgue’s exit. “This is the closest we’ve been to Joker in days, and I doubt he’s going to make another appearance anytime soon. I want you and Agent Fox to come along with me. You two knew Bruce the best out of all of us. Perhaps you can figure out what Joker was looking for, or if we’re lucky, where he’s gone. Oh, and bring your gas mask. Never know when a surprise might reveal itself.”

I stared at Bruce’s cold chamber with guilt, my gaze lingering for a little longer before I finally followed Waller. 

“...I’m right behind you, ma’am.”

From The Janitor’s POV

LATER THAT NIGHT

Skipping down the steps to the morgue, I whistled a merry tune to myself as I plopped a bucket on the floor and dunked my mop in it, sweeping the room clean. The morgue wasn’t exactly my favorite place to be, and it honestly creeped me out at night, but the good thing was there weren’t hordes of furniture blocking my way...unlike some of the agents’ offices. 

Was it really so hard for people to pick up after themselves? They were seriously a pain in the ass to clean sometimes, and there were so many of them. I supposed they thought I was some magician who could get rid of a mess with the snap of my fingers. Psh. Yeah, right. I wished.

Sticking my mop into a corner, I attentively scrubbed away all the dirt and dust gathering there as I continued to whistle, the melody bouncing off the metal walls in harmony. Things were oddly quiet tonight, and normally I appreciated the silence, but today just felt...weird...for some reason. 

It wasn’t the peaceful type of quiet that I enjoyed. It was more like the silence that ensued when you held your breath out of fear. But maybe that was just the vibe the morgue gave off. After all, I was in a room full of dead people. No matter how superstitious you were, that had to be unsettling to some extent.

Dragging the bucket behind me as I moved on to a new section, I splashed the mop into the soapy water once again and carried on with my routine, switching to a different tune. The hushed nature of the morgue was actually starting to grow on me, and I found myself more at peace than when surrounded by chattering agents. The agents didn’t bother me necessarily, but it was good to have some alone time once in a while.

With all the talk about Joker, the Lotus virus, Wayne Enterprises being attacked, and now, Bruce Wayne’s death...it was nice to shut all that out for a second. Even if I didn’t see it myself, just hearing about the pandemonium in Gotham made my hair turn grey, and the stress kept me awake every night. Luckily, I had this job to keep my mind occupied. Being a janitor didn’t buy me a mansion, but it kept me alive. And right now, that was all I cared about.

Before I could savor my solitude any longer however, a suspicious bang suddenly echoed throughout the room, causing me to freeze mid-action as my ears perked in interest. I glanced around in curiosity, peeking around the walls.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anybody there?” 

No answer. Ah, well. It was probably just my imagination playing with me. I shrugged it off and dismissed the interruption.

Just as I was about to resume my work though, the same bang emitted a second time, and it had a bit more force behind it. Now I was certain I wasn’t just hearing things.

“Hello...?” I repeated, a bit louder than before. “Is that you, Calvin? Andrew? I told you guys, you’re not gonna get me like last time. You can only scare me so much before it gets old.”

But still, nothing. Instead, the morgue only remained as lifeless as always, and after a minute or two of waiting, the bang happened again. I started to become anxious.

“...g-guys?” I could feel my heart speeding up. “C’mon, Cal. I-I know it’s you. Just...just come out.” 

Complete silence.

Placing my mop in the bucket, I decided to investigate and wandered past the cold chambers in search of my friends, only to leap out of my skin when I realized the bang was coming from one of the chambers themselves. 

Tripping to the floor out of panic, I frantically scooted back towards the wall, desperately trying to get away from the source of the noise as the bang became more frequent and the color drained from my face. It looked like something was trying to break out from inside, and once I squinted my eyes at the label a bit, I realized that the chamber belonged to none other than Bruce Wayne himself. Wasn’t that guy dead? What the hell was going on? Why was his chamber’s door pounding?! I screamed at myself to get up and run, but my legs wouldn’t budge.

Finally, with one last bang, the door slammed open and a sea of frozen mist oozed out of the chamber, blasting a wave of ice-cold air in my direction as it clouded the entire morgue. I shivered at the sudden drop and my teeth were chattering, but what emerged from the chamber made me tremble more than I ever had in my entire life.

Crawling its way out in a sluggish manner, I saw the reanimated corpse of Bruce Wayne dragging itself to freedom as a horrifying breath escaped it -- almost like it hadn’t felt the kiss of oxygen for a hundred years. Its skin was nearly the same shade of snow, and the pale base only made the scars on its face stand out more. How...how was he moving...?! Was I seeing shit? I had to be...! There was no way in hell this could be real. People couldn’t come back from the dead...right?

Paralyzed with terror, I remained as motionless as a statue and watched while Bruce weakly lugged himself out, flopping onto the floor like a fish. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe...hell, I couldn’t even shout for help. All I could do was sit there like a duck waiting to be shot, and my heart felt like it was about to hammer through my chest. I planted my hands into the surface beneath me, bracing myself for what was coming.

Pushing himself up from the floor, Bruce slowly rose to his feet like a corpse taking leave of its tomb, and his shadow towered over me as a predator would when waiting to kill its prey. But worst of all -- glaring at me from under those dark strands of hair, I spotted a pair of empty, cold blue eyes making contact with mine, one of them damaged from the infection. 

I held up a protective arm in front of myself, uncontrollably shaking as Bruce skulked towards me.

“...How...how are you alive?” I breathed out, unable to even get my voice above a whisper. “The Lotus virus...it...it killed you!”

Bruce glowered and snatched me by the collar, bringing me close to his face as I let out a pathetic whimper, verging on tears. He practically snarled at me, baring his teeth like a feral animal. 

Bruce let out a low chuckle.

“...It certainly tried.”

[cchie]

Violet’s Big Ol’ Honkin’ Questionnaire

A. Psychology

What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…   Violet’s Myers-Briggs is an ISTJ - The Logistician. Dutiful, determined, logical, dependable, responsible. Basically, ISTJs love work and being responsible for their actions. This is Violet in a nutshell.

What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…   Lawful neutral - abiding by the laws and showing respect, but not blindly.

Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it? Do they try to treat it?   Violet Adams is actually diagnosed with OCD. She’s aware of it and takes medication for it, or so her mother thinks. Violet stubbornly tries to combat it herself. This is why she wears her hair on one side of her head, to combat her severe OCD, even a little bit.

Are they a pessimist or an optimist?   I hate to be that person but she is a realist. She tries to find the most real and possible solution.

Are they good at handling change in their life?  Not really, at all. Violet gets very easily shaken with change. Her mother once switched toothpaste brands and it had Violet messed up for weeks.

Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”    Violet actually is pretty confident in her interpretation of events and reality due to her astuteness and eidetic memory. She will combat any counterpoints because she is just so damn sure that she’s right and has remembered correctly.

Is your OC confident in their reactions to life in general, or do they get embarrassed or easily shamed for it? I.e., if something startles them, do they insist it WAS scary? When they cry, do they feel like they overreacted?   While she battles her emotions internally, she rarely ever shows external emotions or expressions; when she does, it’s rather embarrassing. She feels shame for showing any outward emotion and finds them hindering and shameful. When she gets startled, she quickly tries to play it off and snaps that it isn’t funny, or tries to logically explain it was only natural for her to react like that.

Is your OC a martyr?   Nope! Would she be, though? That’s the question. Ultimately, yes. She would do whatever she needed to for her people.

Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?   No, Violet hates excuses. She will almost always be honest.

Does your OC compromise easily? Too easily? Not necessarily. She’s quite stubborn and fights for what she believes is right. If the mass of her people think different, she will try to make them understand, but stress out and worry about them hating her for choosing differently. Nowadays, that doesn’t matter to her.

Does your OC put others’ needs before their own?  Yes, in a sense of duty. Violet lives to serve and protect her people. She doesn’t care an incredible amount about her needs but recognizes she needs to stay stable and healthy. What kind of leader would she be if she couldn’t?

Does your OC have any addictions? If so and problematic, have they admitted it to themselves?   I mean, not really? Her addiction isn’t really an addiction, it’s a disorder. She needs to clean, count tiles, turn the light switch on and off three times, etc. Actually, while just thinking of this, I can also see her being somewhere on the autism spectrum, with her social stunts and not understanding tone.

Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?   Failure.

Is your character empathetic?   She isn’t. She tries to understand but doesn’t always get human emotions sometimes. She might actually be my least empathetic character. Logic is her primary go-to and it’s difficult for her to imagine how somebody could possibly defy it. Nowadays, she’s gotten better with it. Leaders need to have empathy.

Is your character observant?   Yes, she thinks she needs to be in order to become a good leader. She was SHSL Class President, so she kept an eye on everyone and everything.

Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?   Violet really values advice from authority figures and people in power, but if she’s stubborn enough, and thinks she’s right, she’ll go through her own trials.

What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?   Founding the Future Foundation with the other survivors.

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?  A pang of envy twangs in her heart every time she sees people her age hanging out. She does feel bad for feeling envious because she is harsh on herself for having a good house and SHSL talent and all that good stuff. If she had to be a sin, it would definitely be Envy.

What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood?   Class clowns. Being called a “robot”.

Are they harsh on themselves?   God, yes. She’s so hard on herself. She beats herself up for not being more relatable and more social, she’s tough on herself for her OCD and how hindering it is, she’s harsh on herself for being harsh on herself.

Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why?   Violet is above average in terms of looks but she’s always in professional clothes and looks that she doesn’t put too much effort into looking pretty, just looking like a leader. Once you take that away, she’s actually pretty.

Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?   Violet feels confident in her business wear but wishes she could loosen up and wear jeans and a blouse. She places importance on appearance in terms of professionalism, not attractiveness.

What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?   Miss Adams’s biggest obstacles are, well, there are so many. She wants to overcome her severe OCD and that’s why she wears her hair in a side ponytail, why she tries to wear mismatching socks, etc. She also strives to relate more to people and actually ask somebody to hang out with her some time. While she can be a great leader, she’s missing the fundamentals of getting to know her peers. Overall, she’s trying to overcome her extreme loneliness and social stunt.

B. Social

Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?   Violet believes in getting respect to give it. Respect is incredibly important to her and even when somebody is disrespectful, she still continues to show it, mostly out of honor and not wanting to stoop as low as them.

Do they get frustrated when lines at places like pharmacies, check-outs, delis, banks, et cetera, are moving slowly?   If a line is moving slowly, she politely waits. She may be a bit impatient but she won’t show it and take the extra time to read up on something.

Under what situations would they get angry at servers, staff, customer service, et cetera?   Violet would get angry, but never impolite. She would get upset with them taking too long to check back on her, or getting the food wrong.

Do they tip well? How easily can they be moved to not leave a tip?   Violet generally tips at 20%, or based off of how quality the service has been. She lives to serve so when it’s somebody’s literal job and they don’t do it to her standard, she tips lower. Violet would never skip out on a tip, but she’s not above only tipping a dollar.

Do they hold doors open for people?   Yes! Violet is always respectful and polite, thus her ability and desire to hold doors open for people.

Would your OC let someone ahead of them in line if your OC had a big cart and the person behind them had very few items?   Violet would actually not offer that unless they spoke up. She would gently remind them that there are self checkout lines but if they were stubborn, she would give in.

How do they respond to babies crying in public?   Hilariously, babies annoy Violet. She has no idea how to react to them or hold them. She tries to put on an illusion that she’s good with them, but she’s actually incredibly awkward around them and holds them as if she were trying not to touch something very gross.   When babies cry, she is irked by their loud screaming and wishes they would shut up. And then feels bad for thinking so. If it disturbs the peace or people around the crying child, she will approach the person and speak up about possible disciplinary actions and- oh, why are they leaving?

Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?   Being a stick in the mud and being pretty serious, Violet isn’t funny. She doesn’t care very much for humor and isn’t good at it. If she does laugh at anything, it’s mainly because of manners, or history jokes.

What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…   See above question.

Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t?   Violet is very against that humor and will scold anybody she catches laughing at it and lecture them about mental trauma you can cause somebody

Your OC is running late to meeting someone: Do they let the other person know? Do they lie about why they’re late?   Violet is literally never late. She always makes sure to get there impeccably early.   If, by some crazy random happenstance, she were to be late, she would let the other person know and apologize profusely.

Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do? She flags down the waitress the immediate moment she spots her and makes them aware of the situation in a calm and respectable manner.

Do they have a large or small group of friends?   This is the saddest thing I’ve ever typed but Violet has no friends. In school, people always viewed her as an authority figure, a robot, a goody-two-shoes, etc. So they never tried to make a connection with her.   Post-Tabletonpa, she’s managed to make friends with the survivors, primarily Jack Randolph. She’s even made friends with Evan Gyles, a man she would have never dreamt she would acquaint herself with. She even wanted to kill him at one point. Violet tried to establish a friendship with Patricia, but she had passed in the timeline.

Do they have people they are genuinely honest with about themselves?   Nope. Not even entirely to herself. While she believes honesty is incredibly important, self-honesty is harder for her. She had opened up a bit to Patricia Lionheart, and even to Jack Randolph.

Does your OC enjoy social events, such as parties, clubs, et cetera..?   She is somewhere in between enjoying them and dreading them. Clubs and parties aren’t her thing, and she’s never been invited to a party. However, social gatherings and events are something she’s good at, especially when she is in charge of organizing it.

Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?  Violet enjoys being both. It depends on the situation. Being the center of attention is more her thing when it comes to meetings, classes, and other business and academic areas. If it’s recreational, she prefers to be more in the mix.

C. Morality

Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?   Having a moral code is sort of strange for Violet. Her morals align more with abiding the law as long as it isn’t harming anyone innocent, you are respecting authority that is just, you’re honest, etc. It’s based off her mother being a judge and her father being a cop.

Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?   Yes. She would feel ashamed and guilty for doing so.

Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?   Yes. Although she thrives off of debates and having to be around open-minded people to help her in discussions about what is best for her peers.

Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?   While Violet thinks she is academically superior and superior via business and leading, she feels inferior to everyone else due to their normalcy and human emotions.

Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?   Absolutely not. Violet is very rigid with her morals and rules and hates breaking them. Even in the killing games she tried to keep order and structure. However, she was willing to kill Evan Gyles in order to protect everybody else from his harm.

What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?   When coming across somebody asking for money or food, she’ll (with best intentions) give them a list of shelters than can help, offer to help them with interviews, etc. She’ll give whatever small change she has and whatever snacks she has. When it’s hot out, she’ll buy a water and give it to them.

Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort?   Change is something she knows can happen, but is very hesitant and distrusting when it comes to people. She believes in ulterior motives and holds out on her suspicion until the end.

Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?   More ideal, definitely. She’ll hold people to high expectations even if it doesn’t make sense in the situation. She was always disappointed when people killed their peers in the killing game.

D. Religion and Life and Death

How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general?   Violet is actually agnostic. She’s unsure of a god but doesn’t want to write it off just yet. Usually things with her are pretty black and white but religion is like a grey area for her.

Do they believe in an afterlife?   The afterlife is also a grey area. She doesn’t believe in it or think it’s not real.

How comfortable are they with the idea of death?   Violet accepts that it is a part of life and natural. She is saddened when somebody passes but isn’t depressed over it.

Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?  Violet is very torn over this question because she would love to live and learn more over the years. But living forever is not natural, so she would feel a bit weird.

Do they believe in ghosts? If not, why? If so, do they think they’re magical/tie into their religion, or are they scientifically plausible?   Ghosts do not scare Violet in the slightest, or so she’d have you think. She is logically aware that their existence is unlikely but that doesn’t stop her from being freaked out by horror movies about ghosts.

E. Education and Intelligence

Would you say that your OC is intelligent? In what ways? Would your OC agree?    Yes! Violet is highly intelligent. She loves any and all academics and is eager to learn. She would agree that she’s exceptional and thinks highly of her smarts.

Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)   Her strongest would be logical-mathematical, linguistic. Her weakest would probably be existential and interpersonal.

How many languages do they speak?   Two! English and Latin. However, she’s learning other languages to better her knowledge and leadership skills.

Did they enjoy school if they went to it?  Absolutely. She loved all of her classes and always got straight A’s. When it came to clubs, she joined any and all that she could, especially the Student Council. She could never really make any friends, though. So field trips and excursions were lonely for her.

What’s their highest education level? Do they want to continue their education?   As of Tabletonpa, high school. As of nowadays, she actually has her Doctorate’s Degree in Organizational Leadership, Criminal Justice, and Psychology.

Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?   Yes! Violet is a sponge who LOVES absorbing new things she can learn. She’s definitely a Ravenclaw. In her spare time, she’ll seek out courses of knowledge and read articles and essays.

Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?   Yes, yes, and yes. Dutifully and always paying attention is what she‘s good at. She relies on her eidetic memory and knowledge to take tests and exams, so she doesn’t sweat it.

What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets?   Not getting to know more people. One of her biggest flaws is her ability to lead people so well, but not actually knowing them.

F. Domestic Habits, Work, and Hobbies

What sort of home do they live in now, if at all? How did they end up there?   Her father is a cop and her mother is a judge. They live in a two story house, complete with studies, a library, etc. Her parents moved there after saving up. The rooms are neat and tidy, almost virtually no dust. Everything is organized and pristine. The color schemes are mainly white, grey, brown, and blue.

What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?   Her ideal home is similar to the one her parents live in. Except, not quite as large. She would be happy with a 1 story house, as long as it had an office for her and a library.

Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?   Not really. It would make her feel a bit claustrophobic and trapped. She wouldn’t mind a decent sized home, but a tiny one wouldn’t allow for a sea of knowledge.

How clean are they overall with home upkeep?   Not a speck in sight. Violet loves being neat and tidy and it pains her to be messy.

How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?   Violet is pretty handy, surprisingly enough. This is due to her reading a countless amount of manuals, encyclopedias, etc. She retains most of the important knowledge and applies it to whatever needs fixing.

How much do they work? What do they do? Do they enjoy it?   If work were a person, Violet would marry them. Dedication is her strong suit and she loves nothing more than her work. She’s SHSL Class President and loves being in charge of people. Becoming President of the United States is her dream so she’s slowly climbing the ladder.

What’s their “dream career” or job situation?   Oops, just answered it. Violet Adams would be such a nice ring to a President, wouldn’t it? She’d be the first female, bisexual President. I’d vote for her.

How often are they home?  Half of the time she’s at home, the other half of the time she’s at school. Either at clubs or the library.

Are they homebodies and enjoy being home?  She’s not a homebody, really, but she does like being at home. It’s comfortable for her.

Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?   Violet has actually tried learning violin and the flute, but she’s only average at them. This frustrates her because she wants to be above average and she doesn’t understand what she’s doing wrong. She’s decent, at best. She’s accepted that she’ll never be great at art.

What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation? How did they get into it? What part of it do they like the most?   Reading, organizing, debating, learning. Anything that stimulates the mind, she’s down for. She loves puzzles and mysteries.

Would they enjoy a theme park?  Probably not. She would enjoy the connection with going with somebody but she would be terrified of riding roller coasters. She would be interested in the games, but the rides would scare her.

G. Family and Growing Up

Is your OC close to their family?  She’s close to them, but she could definitely be closer. Her mother is overbearing and intimidates her and her father is kind of distant.

Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?  Her and her parents.

Does your OC find their family supportive? If not, what would be an example why not?  Yes and no. Her parents are supportive of her studies and her goals, but supportive of her as a person and her OCD? Not really. Her mother is overbearing and pushes her to her limit.

What kind of childhood did your OC have?   Boring, really. She would go to school, come home, do chores, do her homework, read, go to bed, etc. She once went to Washington, DC with her parents and it was the most exciting trip to her so she could learn more about history.   The tough parts of her childhood was before she was diagnosed with OCD, when her mother just thought her child was weird for her symptoms and she would shame her for it.

Did they go through any typical phases growing up?   Violet Adams is an odd child and did not have any typical phases growing up. She mostly kept to herself and was incredibly polit and well-mannered. She never rebelled against her parents, she didn’t have a scene phase, she was never like “lol xD taco so rANDOM”. Even as a kid, she was never really a kid, she was more of an adult.

Do they have any favorite childhood memories?  That trip to Washington, DC. It was one of the only times she can remember being happy with her parents and not having a breakdown. They took her to sites she wanted to go to, and didn’t chastise her.

Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by?   When her mother would yell at her for wanting to wash her hands 6 times in a row, or turn the lights on and off three times before she entered the room, or anything else she did because of her disorder.   Her dad would come to her room afterwards and pathetically try to explain why it was so bizarre for a child to be doing and that her mom was doing it out of love.

H. Romance and Intimacy

What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?  Violet is bisexual! She’s a cis female and hasn’t ever stressed about her gender identity. She has stressed a bit about her bisexuality because if her parents ever found out, they would be incredibly unhappy. They want her to continue the Adams bloodline. Violet knew she was bisexual when she had a crush on the debate team vice president in middle school.

Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover?   Wew laddy, I don’t know where to start with this one. Violet has a hard time being a thoughtful partner because she thinks more logically about something instead fo a heartfelt gift. She tries, though. Nowadays, she’ll ask somebody what they would like, or asks her friends for advice.   However, when it comes to their needs, she’s thoughtful. If they need alone time, she’ll give it. If they need cuddles, she’s there.

Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right?  While close-minded as she is, she may disagree with polyamory but she isn’t against people having multiple partners. She knows that it isn’t her choice and it isn’t affecting her, even if it bothers her a bit. Violet herself is monogamous.

Does your OC believe in love in first sight?  Love at first sight does not make any logical sense to Violet. You can’t love somebody you don’t know. Love takes time and practice, and if you think you love somebody after seeing them once, you’re only in love with who you imagine them to be or who they want you to think they are.

Does your OC believe in marriage (or their culture’s equivalent)?   Yes. Violet believes in marriage for the legal benefits and the binding of being together until they die.

Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?   Violet has never dated anybody through any of her school years due to her academic focus, social awkwardness, and strict parents. She has never cheated or been cheated on.

What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically..)  Somebody who can hold up an intelligent conversation, who is patient and kind, and understands her strive for academic success and glory. Somebody who will help her with the emotional sides of things.

What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?   Violet would actually love to have dinner and go to the beach at sunset. It’s just so normal.

What are some things that your OC finds to be an instant turn-off in potential partners?    People who don’t know what they are talking about, judgemental people, people who make fun of mental disorders.

I. Food

What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?  Sweet and clean. Her favorite food is sushi, it’s delicious and healthy and you don’t have to dirty your hands to eat it. BBQs are hard for Violet because it mainly involves finger food and messes.

Do they have any eating requirements or preferences? Allergies, vegetarian, organic-only, religious restrictions…  Violet is actually allergic to cinnamon and has to be careful around food like that. Her parents make her eat healtheir foods to keep her physique. But every once in a while, she’ll sneak fast food or junk food.

Are they vegan/vegetarian (if their overall culture/species generally aren’t)? If so, why? Do they think animal products are wrong in all circumstances?  Nope! Her parents think it’s a little ridiculous to live like that and believes meat is essential in a diet.

How often do they cook? Do they order out a lot?  Violet will cook about twice a week for her family. Her mother and father taught her how to cook so she can fend for herself. She doesn’t order out a lot because her parents are against ordering out often, but if she knows she’ll be home alone one night, every once in a while she’ll go grab a bite somewhere.

Are they a good cook?  Surprisingly, yes. She’s not marvelous by any means, but the food she makes is edible and tasty.

Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?  Yes. Routine is her middle name, after all.

J. Politics, Current Events, Environmental Aspects

Where does your OC stand most politically? What would they align with most?  Violet is actually for the most part, independent. Her views used to be more conservative due to her parents, but her teachings and research have opened her mind a bit. 

How politically aware are they?   Very politically aware. After all, she wants to become President. She watches debates and the news very closely.

How politically active are they?  Very very active. Constantly making phone calls, campaigning for those she believes in, organizing marches and debates, etc.

Is your OC the sort to fall for fake news? If not, do they ignore it or make a point to clarify that it’s wrong?  Violet has sources handy that are reliable and factual. She’ll get to the bottom of it if something is fishy. She makes a point to clarify what is wrong and what isn’t.

Are they or would they protest for a cause they’re passionate about?   Yes! After graduating and moving out, catch Violet at LGBT+ pride marches.

How do they react to people whose political viewpoints are very opposite of theirs?  Respectful and diplomatic.

How much interest in environmental health do they have?  A moderate amount! She recycles when she can, helps pick up litter, tries saving water and energy, etc.

In reality-based or applicable worlds, do they believe in global warming? Do they recycle?  Yes and yes!

L. For the Writer/Owner

How have your characters changed since you created them?  Violet originally was going to be more of a grey character than a black and white, but the more I thought about her, the more fitting that became. I was going to make her just a “neat freak” but giving her OCD gave her more realism and complexity and I tried to handle it in a respectful and realistic manner rather than a caricature.

What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?  Mental disorders, logic vs. emotions, success, growth.

Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you?   Violet is essentially who I am at my job. I take leadership, I stay objective and constructive, and can be no nonsense. She struggles a lot with her own feelings and mental disorder, which is something I can relate to. I also made her a perfectionist (not really me) and had a caring father (also not related). She is a black and white thinker (me) and has an overbearing mother (also me). She’s definitely a more serious, and logical person than I am.

Would you hang out with your OC if you could?   Listen, I would, because this poor girl just needs friends.

How did you come up with your OC?   When we started the Danganronpa Tabletop game, we were allowed 3 characters. Violet was the last character I came up with, and I stole the Ultimate title from somebody who ended up not playing. They would have ruined a character like that anyways. So I took the title and molded her into somebody who wanted to succeed, but had her own issues before she could fully do that. I wanted to make her somebody who thought she had all the ingredients to success but was missing a lot of things. Out of my 3 characters, I also designed her to be the straight man who can be more serious and logical, and take leadership.   I came to love her way more than I thought I would.

[uncertifiedqueer]

What Came After | Chapter One

Title: What Came After

Fandon: D. Gray-Man

Characters: Allen Walker, Lavi

Genre: Suspense, Horror(?)

Rating: T

Summary: It has been more than a century since the Holy War ended, but perhaps Allen was just a bit naïve in thinking that he could ever escape the horrors of it.  [21st Century, Reincarnation AU. Short Fic.]

Word count: 2.6k

Can also read on FFN. (Better format you know.)    Part 1/?

Chapter One: Heartbeat

Deep into the water

Deep into the dark

Deep into the places

Stories have to start

Peel open the layers

Go in for the kill

Bite into the onion

Taste it for the thrill

Got a fear of falling under

Underneath the dream

A fear of diving too deep

Deep beneath the seams

A fear of falling under

Underneath the spell

A fear of what the truth sees

Secrets I will tell

"A Fear Of Falling Under" — Darren Hayes

"Hey, Lavi!" The aforementioned male turned around at the sound of his name, not pausing in arranging his books but tilting his head to show that he was listening.

The last bell of the day had rung just a few minutes ago and everyone was eager to leave the school building in favour of more fun activities. Well, other than the nerds or geeks who actually enjoyed spending their spare time pouring over dull textbooks. Then again, if he were being honest, he would most definitely fall under the latter category. Not that he was particularly keen on the idea either as it was mostly history he was interested in. So, even if he could, he would rather read any historical documentary or novel than the syllabus he was given. Not to say he was bad with other subjects because he was not, his position among the top five in overall academic ranking was definitely a proof of that, it was merely that he did not enjoy them as much as he enjoyed history.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his grandfather, whom he had spent most of his childhood with, was a history professor. The elder even had a massive library solely dedicated to the topic. Lavi had, naturally, developed a strong liking for the aforementioned subject after spending hours surrounded by those old but rather well-kept tomes. Rather than just books, he could say that they had been his friends. His only companions during those lonesome days, after all, the old man could hardly be classified as a pleasant company most of the time. He was glad that Bookman had been there, really, but he could not exactly say that his grandfather was an ideal parental figure. Hell, he wasn't even sure how exactly he had survived all those years with him. He was only relieved that he had come out relatively intact, even if the said relativity was questionable at best. Then again —

"Heading out early?" A brash looking male —Daisya Barry, one of his friendlier classmates— asked. By then he was almost beside Lavi's desk.

An apologetic smile filtered across the redhead's face as his dominant left-hand automatically reached towards the bridge of his nose to steady the half-rimmed glasses. His dark haired companion had once commented on this habit of his, saying that he could not understand why he was always trying to fix his glasses when they weren't even slipping, further inquiring if everyone wearing spectacles also did that or was it just his nervous tick. He had laughed then, the comment both ridiculously random and equally amusing. Really, it was not as if it was a compulsion born out of anxiety or anything, simply because they could not feel the frame sliding down their noses did not mean his glasses were not on the verge of falling. Honestly, the woes of being the only bespectacled person in a group.

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy today." Lavi replied, slinging the backpack on his right shoulder. The other teen made a disappointed sound.

"Aw well, that sucks. But it's your loss really, missing out on the fun with our awesome group and all!"

A chuckle left his lips as they both walked towards the classroom door. "I think I'll live without it."

"Ha-ha. Funny."

"Thanks, I try." He received an amused snort in reply. "Well then, see ya' tomorrow Daisya."

"Later man." With a last wave in his direction the soccer enthusiast was walking in the opposite direction.

A silver cased cell-phone was flipped open as the teen left the maneuvering of hallways to his trusted muscle memory. After pressing a few buttons he brought the screen to his left ear, absentmindedly listening to the caller tune before it switched to an almost robotic voice. Person or no, with as much inflection as there was in their tone, it could be argued that perhaps a real robot would sound more human. Then again, maybe it was actually a computer generated voice. To tell the truth, the teen had never cared to find out and he really could not bother at the moment.

'The person you're trying to reach is not answering the call. Please try again in a few minutes.'

A frown marred his features as the call was disconnected. Discontented, he tried again.

'The person you're trying to reach is currently not available—...'

'The person you're trying to rea—'

'The perso—'

He closed the phone with, perhaps, more force than necessary after yet another failed try before sliding it back in his pocket, looking up to see that he was almost at the entrance. He tried to smother the blossoming concern with the thought that the other boy might be sleeping. Considering the fact he had been feeling unwell since morning it was a high possibility. Not to mention if he was awake there was no way he would not answer his phone, sick day or not. He was just that polite. Comforted by the knowledge, Lavi reigned in his anxious side, at least for the moment. He could not help but push his glasses further up his nose, however.

The eighteen-year-old teenager took a deep breath as he exited the school premises. The warm wind caressed his freckled cheeks before twirling away, carrying the smell of pine cones with it. Dried leaves crunched under his shoes as he walked in long strides, his legs covering the distance so easily that he did not feel the need to run. After all, it would be kind of a waste to not savor the nice weather that had graced the present day. Deep green eyes surveyed the surroundings with a passive sort of fascination. The sunset colors encompassing the nature were, indeed, quite beautiful to look at, and autumn was definitely his favourite season, but even when faced with such vibrancy he could not help but think that there was something else that he found breathtaking beyond words.

Even though for most people pale shades such as gray and white were rather dull and boring, the redhead begged to differ. Sure, they may not be the most appealing colors one could think of but he thought they were certainly mesmerizing in their own right. Then again, maybe he was simply biased. After all —

It took him roughly twenty minutes of walking and ten minutes in a convenience store, most of which was spent standing in the slowest queue he had the misfortune of suffering in his entire existence as a human being (or maybe he was exaggerating because of impatience, but whatever the case, the fact remained that it was slow), to reach the intended apartment complex. His eyes scanned the letters imprinted on the wooden plaque, reading Noah's Ark as they had done many times, for a brief moment before he walked inside.

It was a ridiculous name, his younger friend had commented once, when they were both lazing around on a summer day, under one of the many trees in the compound's vicinity, popsicles melting in their hands as they tried to battle the raging heat with flimsy paper fans. The boy was sure that whoever came up with the name "Noah's Ark" must have been an idiot. To which he had countered with the fact that the teen was still living there, was he not? The comeback had been quick, his tone bordering on monotonous, pointing out that this was the cheapest place he could get that was also close to school. The older boy had wisely kept his silence after that, but, of course, not before claiming that he found the name cool. It was creative. After all, these days most of the buildings were either named after the owners or a famous person or a sort-of-famous-person. Which, let's be honest, was so not original. The other's reply had included a snort, and a muttered idiot. He had been rightfully indignant, not that his companion seemed to care. Really, the rather comedic situation ought to be more ridiculous than a name that had become the topic of their discussion.

The elevator stopped with a resounding ding as the door opened on the ninth floor of the building. The redhead navigated the hallway with a familiar ease, soon finding himself in front of his friend's door. Sliding the grocery bags to his elbow he fished the spare key out of his jeans pocket before unlocking the door and stepping inside. He waited with bated breath for a few seconds, ears strained for the tiniest sound or some kind of indication that the sick teen was awake, letting out a breath when only silence met his ears. He didn't know what exactly he was expecting.

The flat was nothing fancy, for sure, painted in various shades of blue, white and violets with the basic furniture in corresponding hues, and that was just the living room. There was a painting too, hanging on the wall behind the couch, pastel colors more abstract than realistic depicting the ruins of a place long forgotten, a figure crying for the person who laid lifeless upon their lap and the crescent moon which only served to darken the shadows further. It unnerved him, if he were being honest, but for some reason the fifteen-year-old boy had quite a morbid taste when it came to these things. The other painting in his bedroom was even creepier. He could not fathom how anyone could sleep with a visage of a madly grinning clown, crimson tears trailing down his cheeks as he carried a coffin on his back, hanging above their head.

The peculiar tendencies of the boy aside, it was, at least, much cleaner and organized than the clutter he called his home. Not so much out of some sentimental value, but more so because it was convenient to call that three roomed —four if he counted the bathroom— apartment “his home” instead of “his apartment” or “his house”. It would be quite troublesome, in his humble opinion, to say those mouthfuls of words when he could save himself some trouble by using a more common term. Then again, it did feel like a home, a place he would want to return to and a place where he belonged, sometimes, but perhaps that was not the correct description seeing as the feeling was not related to the place itself as much as it was with —

Lavi stilled.

His hands stopping mid air in the process of dumping the bag full of ingredients on the kitchen counter. A pair of dark eyes glared holes on the black-and-white checkered wallpaper in front of him as he concentrated on his surroundings. He was sure he heard something just now. It sounded like something falling on the ground, something that produced a kind of metallic sound. Few minutes passed in waiting yet he could hear no other sound following the abrupt disruption. The air, however, felt a lot different now. His lips tugged downwards in instant wariness. The first course of action, of course, involved checking on the invalid occupant of the flat before he could proceed to figure out just what had made that sound. Just as he was about to turn around, something halted his movements. He swore he saw something in the corner of his right eye. Approaching the other side of the kitchen with measured steps, he finally noticed the fallen drawer, its contents rattled and some even scattered on the floor. That, however, was not what caught his attention. He crouched down to properly inspect the shining drops of liquid that were definitely thicker in density than water. Unable to identify the exact color due to the dark floor, he swiped some on his forefinger and smeared it across his thumb while he was at it.

'Huh. It's red.' The thought floated around his mostly vacant mind, for once, without registering the implications of such a thing. It smelled like salt and copper. The redhead drew a sharp breath. Why was there —

- xxXxx -

Ba-dumm

A drop of liquid fell on the ground.

Allen?

- xxXxx -

He was on his feet before he could complete that thought, his pace hurried yet trying to be as silent as possible. His heart hammered inside his chest. With plenty caution he approached the bedroom, eyes narrowing when he found the crimson trail leading up to the once perfectly white door that was now stained with bloodied fingerprints. Peeking around the door frame he found the usually neat room in disarray. The bed sheets and blankets were falling halfway off the bed as if the occupant was wrestling with it prior to his awakening. The half-filled laundry basket across the room was toppled over, the clothes scattering around messily. The computer on the side blinked lazily, flickering between the black screen and the open word document for a minute before going black again. The bookshelf had a few missing spots and the lamp on the bedside table was knocked over, probably broken now, and… goodness was that more blood? Needless to say, it was the messiest state he had ever seen this room in.

One curious thing that did not escape the teen's notice, even in his worried mindset was that the brown door, on the right corner of the room, was ajar. Perspiration gathered on his palms and he rubbed them on his clothes, wringing the bottom of his shirt in the process, as he slowly walked towards the bathroom. His glasses slipped again. Perhaps, this time it was the sweat gathering on his forehead that caused it, nevertheless, Lavi was glad for even that little bit of familiarity in this situation.

His fingers lingered on the aforementioned accessory for a second longer than necessary.

The floor was furnished with green tinted tiles and the walls themselves were painted in a medium shade of sea green. The color was comforting, the albino boy had said. It reminded him of the time he had spent with his foster father in a coastal region. Apparently, most of the man's family, distant cousins and whatnot, had settled somewhere beside the sea and they had gone to pay a visit. He had been around eight then. The teen remembered little of those days now, but he still recalled the feeling of safety and comfort and peacefulness he had felt while gazing at the vast sea. In time, he had come to associate those feelings with the color itself. It was not a bad thing, on the contrary it was quite endearing. Thinking about it, the redhead could say that it created a positively soothing atmosphere for just about anyone.

In spite of that, scanning the dimly lit room (because the lights weren't on and the subdued illumination from the bedroom only amplified the darkness within) Lavi could not stop the dread from surfacing under his skin in that moment, coiling around his abdomen in an extremely unpleasant manner. The colors muted by the lack of light were barely distinguishable from the shadows at this point and —

There was figure, shorter than him, standing in front of the mirror, leaning almost too close while his right palm rested against the reflective surface. The person —his wayward friend he realized a moment later— who was supposed to be resting and not trying to give him a heart attack, had his back towards him. Even so… even in the faint glow that turned the reflection indistinct and fairly ominous, he could see.

He could see, so, so clearly, and, for once, he wished he could not.

A/N: I’m suffering from a really bad case of catarrh. (Which is just cold tbh. /trying and failing to keep a straight face/) Haha, it’s kinda irritating, especially when we can’t breathe, but there’s more fanfiction to be written. At least we plotted about this fic ahead of time otherwise I fear it might not ever be completed.

/cough/ Anyways, the only reason there’s a note here because — Lavi’s glasses. Can we just say that it sucks bullocks that we can’t add links on FFN? Okay, I’m done.

[clubofinfo]

Expert: The effects of humankind-created Climate Chaos are proving to be more devastating than even the most grim predictions. Wealth inequity is worse than in the Gilded Age. The US empire wages perpetual war, hot and cold, overt and covert, including military brinksmanship with the nuclear power, The Russian Federation. Speaking of the latter, the US media retails a storyline that would be considered risible if it was not so dangerously inflammatory; i.e., L’affaire du Russia-gate, wherein, according to the lurid tale, the sinister Vladimir Putin, applying techniques from the Russian handbook for international intrigue, Rasputin Mind Control For Dummies, has wrested control of the US Executive Branch of government and bends its policies to his diabolical will. Ridiculous, huh?  Yet the mainstream press promulgates and a large section of the general public believes what is clearly a reality-bereft tale, as all the while, ignoring circumstances crucial for their own economic well being; their safety, insofar as a catastrophic nuclear exchange; and the steps required to maintain the ecological criteria crucial for allowing the continued viability of human beings on planet earth. A socio-cultural-political structure is in place wherein the individual is bombarded, to the point of psychical saturation, with self-serving, elitist manufactured media content. Decades back, news and entertainment merged thus freedom of choice amounts to psychical wanderings in a wilderness of empty, consumer cravings and unquenchable longings. Moreover, personas are forged upon the simulacrum smithy of pop/consumer culture, in which, image is reality, salesmanship trumps (yes, Trumps) substance. Among the repercussions: A reality television con man gains the cultural capital to mount a successful bid for the US presidency. Trump’s ascendency should not come as a shock. Nor should desperate Democrat’s embrace of Russia-gate/The Russians Are Coming (fool’s) mythos. In essence, US citizens/consumers are the most successfully psychologically colonised people on planet earth. In the realm of the political, Democratic and Republican partisans alike, on cue, are prone to parrot the self-serving lies of their party’s cynical elite, who, it is evident, by the utter disregard they hold towards the prerogatives of their constituency, view the influence-bereft hoi polloi with abiding distain…that is, in the rare event they regard them at all. The crucial question is: Whose and what agenda does the Russia-gate yarn serve? The answer is hidden in plain sight: the profiteers of US economic and militarist hegemony. The demonisation and diminution of Russian power and influence is essential in order to maintain and expand US dominance and the attendant maintenance and expansion of the already obscene wealth of capitalism’s ruling elite. While It might seem we are mired in an (un-drainable) swamp of complexity, in reality, the political landscape is a bone dry wasteland, wrought by a single factor — the addictive nature of greed. Moreover, the reality of Beginning Stage Human Extinction crouches just beyond the line of the horizon. All signs auger we lost souls of the Anthropocene must alter our course. Yet, we, stranded in the mind-parching wasteland of late stage capitalism, collectively, continue to stagger, mesmerised, towards mass media mirages leading us further and further into the hostile-to-life terrain. Yet the wasteland’s Establishment media outlets are doing a dead-on, although straight faced, impression, right out of Stanley Kubrick’s satirical film of Cold War era madness, Dr. Strangelove, of Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper’s roiling with paranoia ranting about a Russian “conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids [of the US body politic].” Hyperbolic? Take a perusal at the cover story of the Washington Establishment mouthpiece Newsweek, headlined: “PUTIN IS PREPARING FOR WORLD WAR III—IS TRUMP?” A sphincter-clinching tale of woe and warning promulgated by the same governmental entities and their corporate media stenographers who waxed apocalyptic about Iraq possessing weapon’s of mass destruction; that an immediate NATO bombing campaign must be launched against the government of Muammar Gaddafi or else a mass slaughter of the innocent will be immanent; and regime change in Syria must proceed because Assad is gassing his own people. Just what sort of an embittered cynic would call into question the credibility of and mistrust the motives of such paragons of probity? Yet, somehow, in regard to Russia-gate, liberals display scant to zip scepticism towards the stories peddled by this unelected, unaccountable clutch of hyper-authoritarian prevaricators. In fact, they are, in a cringe worthy spectacle, allowing themselves to be played like Dollar Store kazoos. Although, I get it. The tangerine-tinged Terror Of Tweettown represents a hideous affront to common sense and common decency. But the same applies to his antagonists in the anti-democratic institutions of the US National Security State and Intelligence Community. While the mission statements of the bureaucracies in question declare they exists to protect the nation from all manner of threats to the safety of the citizenry, a study of their history and present day operations reveals their modus operandi serves to ensure obscene amounts of wealth continue sluicing into the already bloated coffers of the profiteers of global-wide operations of capitalist plunder. I understand the desperate need for hope. To crave the quality is inherently human. Even to the point of being whipped into a tizzy by the Russia-gate imbroglio. Yet: All and all, an obsessive focus on Trump, the Orange Scylla, buffets one into the maw of the Washington Establishment’s Charybdis. Again, I understand the sense of desperation: Trump’s smug, bloated face, the grandiose squawk of his voice, and his crass, mean-spirited, petty-minded pronouncements and middle school bully taunts deserve to be resoundingly rebuked. His hubristic posturing simply begs for comeuppance. One is prone to grow plangent with magical thinking. One longs to witness the bully smirk smacked from his face as he is dispatched in disgrace, Richard Nixon-style, to his parvenu palace at Mar a Lago. But the effect of banishing Nixon was cosmetic. The accepted Watergate storyline, of probing, political inquest and Constitutional redemption, served as a palliative administered to the US public in the rare case the slumbering masses might have desired to delve deeper into the heart of darkness of US empire thus might begin to question the mythos of American Exceptionalism and doubt the uplifting denouement cobbled onto the scandal by the political and media elite; e.g., the system of checks and balances functioned as the nation’s Founders intended. Granted, the system did work as designed, only not in the cliched manner portrayed by its apologists; it worked in the manner it was rigged; to wit, to preserve the secrets of state. The long national nightmare was far from over. In fact, it has been normalised. When the unthinkable becomes quotidian, by means of the normalisation and systemic codification of crimes against the greater good of humanity, there is a good chance the dynamics of empire building are in play. Empires are not only inherently entropic but they are anathema to the democratic processes crucial to maintaining a republic. The vast amounts of wealth acquired by means of plunder render a nation’s elite not only craven with cupidity but prone to become so dismally shortsighted, even, judging by the evidence of their reckless actions and crackbrain casuistry, bughouse mad. The present US nuclear sabre rattling at North Korea and the economic aggression and militarist posturing deployed against the Russian Federation are proof of the declaration. A military empire’s unchecked, monomaniacal, more often than not self-destructive, impulse for domination are monstrous traits. The death and carnage strewn in the wake of the imperial monster’s presence in Libya and Syria illustrate a grim testament to the fact. History reveals, overreach and the passage of time render the aspirations of imperium a nimbus of dust; its grandiose pronouncements a cacophony of strutting clowns; its belief in its inviolable nature and its trumpeted tales of vaunted exceptionalism the stuff of asylum dweller gibbering. On the contrary, a sense of perspective imparts the knowledge, late empire is a fool’s inferno played out on a landscape ridden with exponentially increasing decay. The storylines of the beneficiaries and operatives of vast systems of runaway power concoct are, more often than not, self-justifying fictions. Cover stories and flat out prevarications, rolled out for the purpose of hiding the prevailing order’s actions and motives, come to dominate the socio-cultural-political sphere. Views running counter to reigning narratives are apt to be marginalised and/or met with scorn, rage and revulsion. A dangerous one-sidedness prevails. Analogous to the laws governing thermodynamic equilibrium, when a governor (or speed limiter or controller) switch has been rendered inoperative, a state of thermic runaway comes into play. We are talking the stuff of runaway trains, flaming out super novas, nervous breakdowns, and overreaching empires. By suppressing countervailing views, empires create chaos and carnage and will, in the end, meet their demise by self-annihilation. The rage for total dominance and attendant overreach of capitalist/US militarist hegemony has wrought the phenomenon on a global wide basis. The governor switch within the greed and power crazed minds of the corporate, military, and governing elite, by all indications, is inoperable. Impervious to the consequences of their recklessness, ranting about Russians, they careen through the Anthropocene. At present, the whole of humankind is held in the thrall of a trajectory of doom. Yet their power is hinged on the ability to dominate the storyline.  Withal, complicity translates to destiny usurped. Conversely, the first measure towards a restoration of equilibrium is to call out a lie. http://clubof.info/