#thanks to the one above that the recordings for season two have already begun

[22carolina08]

HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!! EP 8 KILLED ME!!! I DUCKING KNEW IT!!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

[nothingbutimagines]

The Set Up (Tom Holland)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warning: Cursing, mentions of drug use, sibling bickering, a bit of angst

Summary: When Y/n comes back home for the holiday season to visit family after another long semester at Uni, her family takes it upon themselves to invite her old crush, Tom, to Christmas dinner in the hopes of setting the two up together. 

Author: Dizzy

A/N: Oh geez, Christmas is approaching very quickly! Hope you all have been able to get all your Christmas shopping done (I know I haven’t)! Tomorrow is going to be a cute little Harrison Osterfield fic, so keep your eyes peeled, and today is Tom Holland as well as a few other fics I hadn’t gotten the chance to put together until today since I fell ill for a few days. 

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

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“Y/n, what are you wearing?” Your mother asked, causing you to turn away from the plate of cookies you were eating off of. 

“Uh, a hoodie and jeans?” You muttered, your statement sounding more like a question as you paused, mid bite.

“Are you really wearing that to dinner tonight? We’re going to the steakhouse.”

“I mean,” You swallowed, “I have a sweater on underneath.”

“What happened to that cute little dress I left for you on your bed?” 

“Mom, no one else is wearing a dress. Why would I?” You asked, brushing your hands off before sighing. “Lucy and Charlie are wearing sweaters and jeans too.”

“Your sisters are younger, they’re hard to get into dresses.”

“They’re 16 and 18. Not that young.” You argued. “I’m not wearing a dress. It’s just dinner with the family. You, me, Dad, Lucy, Charlie, and David. And you have all seen me at my ugliest.”

“Well, what if you run into someone you’re interested in?” Your mother asked, following you closely as you walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 

“Like who? Tom?” You scoffed. “Mom, I know you love Tom, but I don’t. And I know you want me to get a boyfriend, but this is getting ridiculous. Last Christmas you set me up on a date with Ms. Chasten’s nephew and now you’re telling me to pick up a guy at a restaurant?” 

“No, I wasn’t saying Tom. I know you said you no longer have a crush on him, but I’m just saying, what if you see a man you might want to date? Wouldn’t you want to look your best?”

You turned around, placing a hand on your mother’s shoulder as you smiled at her warmly. “Mom, I love you, but I’m not going to get a boyfriend just because you want me to. And I’m sure as hell never seeing Tom again, as much as I know you’d like me to.”

“Are you two ready to get going? We have a reservation to get to.” Your father interrupted, pulling his coat tighter around him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let me get my coat on.” You pushed past the two, making your way to the door and grabbing your coat off the rack. 

You quickly pulled your hoodie over your head, hanging it up in place of your coat before pulling your coat over you. You quickly wrapped a scarf around your neck as the rest of your family began congregating by the door. 

“I thought you were going to wear a dress.” Lucy stated, looking up at you as you followed everyone out the door. 

“No, I wasn’t. Why is everyone trying to bully me into wearing a dress?” 

Lucy shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you’re ugly.”

“You’re ugly.” 

“No, I’m not. If anyone is the ugly, it’s David.”

“I heard that.” David grumbled as you piled into the car. “And for the record, if anyone is the ugly one it’s you, Luce. That’s just because you have a bad attitude and make unfunny tik toks.”

“I thought you said you liked my tik toks!” 

“I lied.” David stated, turning back around in his seat, now facing forward.

You laughed as he turned, only to receive a small pinch on your arm from Lucy, who was pouting beside you like a child. 

“Ow! That hurts, you brat!” You gasped, pushing her away and knocking her into the side of the car. “Luce, you’re like 16, cut it out!”

“And you’re like 21 but I have a boyfriend and you don’t!” 

“That’s not even a valid argument in this conversation.”

“I know, I was trying to be a bitch.” 

“You’re already a bitch. You don’t even have to try.” David interrupted, turning back around to face you both. 

“Dad! David called me a bitch!” Lucy whined as you rolled your eyes, gazing into the eyes of your younger brother who had the same expression on his face.

“David,” Your father gazed back into the rear view mirror, “it’s not polite to talk about other people’s shortcomings.” 

You started to laugh loudly, giving your younger sister a shove as the car slowed to a stop in the restaurant parking lot. 

“I hate you all.” Lucy pouted, shoving you back as you all climbed out of the car. 

“I can’t believe I still have to say this,” Your mother shook her head as you all walked into the lobby of the restaurant, “be on your best behavior, all of you, okay?”

“Hey!” Charlie spoke up, making you realize you had forgotten she was even there. “I didn’t do anything!”

“I didn’t say anyone did anything, I am just reminding you all that this is a very special evening, okay?” 

You nodded, still chuckling as you glanced over at your brother, who still had the same smirk on his face as he had in the car. You followed the group along with the hostess to your table, taking a seat before realizing there was an extra place setting beside you. 

“Oh, uh, I think there’s a mistake here.” You waved the hostess over. “There should just be six place settings.”

The hostess frowned slightly, confused. “Oh. I thought the reservation said seven people.” 

“It did.” Your mother interrupted. “The other guest will be here shortly, thank you.”

You watched the hostess nod and walk away. You turned back to your mother, furrowing your brows as you looked at her, confused. 

“I’m sorry, who else is joining us?” You asked, the confusion evident in your tone. 

“Tom!” Your mother smiled, her line of sight leading above you as you followed it, to come face to face with the boy she was referring to. 

“Hello, Mrs. L/n, and everyone else. Sorry I’m a bit late, there was some traffic.” Tom explained shyly, slipping his coat off and hanging it on his chair as he took a seat beside you. “Hi, Y/n.” 

“Hi, Tom.” You nodded at him as the inner turmoil had begun to stir in the back of your mind. 

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it, we were just seated.” Your mother waved, almost as if she was apologetic herself. “I’m just glad you could make it.” 

“I think I’m going to go to the bar to get something to drink.” You announced, rising from your seat as you grabbed your small purse. “David, why don’t you come with me?” 

“Oh, I don’t think I’m all that thirsty.” 

“I wasn’t asking.” You muttered, giving him a look as he rose from his seat, now following you away from the table and in the direction of the bar. 

“Before you say anything-”

“How could you not have told me Tom was coming?” You snapped, causing the younger man to flinch.

“Uh.” David averting your gaze, trying to find something to say.

“Since when do you keep secrets?” 

“Since when do you cower at the sight of men?” David retorted, taking a seat on a bar stool as you followed in suit.  

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“And you didn’t answer mine.” He huffed. “Ladies first.” 

“Ugh, fine.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “I cower at the sight of Tom since he came with to drop me off at uni last year.” 

“Why? I thought that went really well.” 

“No, it didn’t. You were high the entire trip anyway, I doubt you remember it at all.”

“Wait, so you didn’t share a kiss with Tom?” He asked, scratching his head. “Cause I didn’t think that was a weed hallucination, but now I’m not sure.”

“No, I did kiss Tom. But, that’s not the problem.” You shook your head. “I kissed Tom outside my building when you and Charlie were still packing up the car, which is why you remember seeing that, but then I ran off before he could say anything because it was obvious how he felt about me by the way he reacted to the kiss.”

“The way he reacted? What does even that mean? Like he didn’t kiss back?” 

“Uh, yeah. Not at all. So I ran off and avoided his texts and calls forever and I haven’t talked to him since because it’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t you think maybe he didn’t kiss back because he was in shock?” David suggested, letting you think for a moment as he turned away to order a few drinks. 

You thought for a moment, unsure of your own memories from the trip. You could only remember small portions of events, such as smoking with your siblings and Tom, Tom pulling you aside to talk, and you kissing him. You paused, going back to the earlier memory of Tom asking to talk to you. What was he wanted to talk about? You couldn’t remember and didn’t get the chance to dig around your own thoughts as David snapped his fingers at you. 

“Hey, earth to Y/n. I got our drinks, let’s get back before Mom sends a search and rescue team.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You got up from your seat, drink in hand as you followed him to the table and took your seat beside Tom. 

“Y/n,” Tom glanced over at you, a bright smile on his face, “your mother was just telling me you got on the Dean’s list?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, placing your drink down on the table and placing your napkin in your lap, attempting to avoid eye contact. 

“It’s not that great, I mean, as long as you get over a 3.5, you’re on the list.” You explained, shrugging it off. 

“No, no, that’s way cooler than anything I’m doing. I mean, I’m just an acting major. You’re doing what? Pre-med?”

“Pre-law.” You corrected. “Pays about the same and is not as much schooling. But, acting sounds really cool. Sounds more fun.”

Tom shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m taking this improv class and it’s absolutely the worst thing I could’ve taken.”

“Oh! I take improv at school!” Charlie chimed in, excitedly bouncing in her seat. 

“Oh yeah?” Tom raised a brow, taking a drink from his glass before setting it down beside yours. “Maybe after we have dinner, you can show me some of your skills.”

Charlie shook her head. “I never said I was any good.”

The table erupted in a bout of laughter as you gave a small chuckle, your mind elsewhere while you picked up your glass, taking a drink of it. 

“Uh, I think that’s mine.” Tom leaned over, his breath hot on your ear as he spoke lowly. 

You choked on the drink a bit, coughing slightly as you set the glass down and looked at him apologetically. 

“Shit. Sorry.” 

“It’s alright. It’s not like we haven’t exchanged spit before.” Tom stated coolly, smirking slightly.

“I don’t backwash into drinks.” You retorted, attempting to not acknowledge his last statement fully. 

“I don’t know, you might.” Tom said, picking up the glass and swirling it around with his hand, pretending to inspect it. 

“Well, if you’re so worried, I’ll buy you another drink.”

“Oh, I’m not worried, but if you’re offering another drink, I will gladly take it.” 

“Hey, lovebirds, I’d look at the menu if I were you, otherwise Mom’s going to order for you.” David interrupted, nodding towards the waitress that was at the table. 

You gave him a glare before looking down at your menu, deciding to order the first thing you set your eyes on since you didn’t have much time before the waitress’s attention was on you.

“I see your brother is still snappy as ever.” Tom muttered after the moment of silence you shared. 

“You know how he is. He’s not so bad with me, definitely on his last straw with Lucy, though.”

Tom opened his mouth to speak before being interrupted by the waitress. You quickly ordered your food, Tom doing the same before you turned your attention back to the conversation. 

You weren’t sure what the young man’s plan was, why he was so insistent on talking your ear off when you had practically ghosted him like an ex-boyfriend for almost a year prior to the current exchange. You wanted to shrug it off, but you couldn’t get past it and it tortured you more for Tom to be so kind to you than it had ignoring him. 

It’s not that you were okay with ghosting him in the past, in fact, you felt like it was a true breakup without you having ever been with Tom. It was a stupid, little interaction that you could’ve talked about and explained away had you actually given him a chance to speak to you, but instead you let your own pride get in the way of that. 

“Y/n, did you hear what I said?” Tom asked, his hand resting on yours. 

You blinked for a moment, clearing your throat and slipping your hand from under his as you shook you head. “No, sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, don’t take it personally, Tom,” Your father started, “Y/n’s always in her own head. She never really hears anyone.”

“Dad, it’s fine.” You shook your head again. “What did you say, Tom?”

“I asked if you wanted to get a drink and speak privately for a moment.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” 

“I think it is,” Your mother stated, now interrupting. “You two go ahead. We’ll come get you when the food comes.”

You mentally cursed yourself and your parents as you followed Tom’s motions, setting down your napkin alongside his and rising from your seat. You allowed him to place a hand on your lower back and guide you away from the group and to the bar, much to your own internal dismay. 

“We need to talk.” Tom stated, taking a seat at the empty bar as he looked at you.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that why you came tonight? Just to confront me? You could’ve just called if you wanted that.” 

“I would’ve if you didn’t block me.” Tom asserted himself before pointing to the empty seat beside him. “And have a seat, please, it’s weird that you’re just standing there.”

You took a seat beside him, leaning away from him and against the bar, as if you wanted to put as much space between you both. 

“I came tonight because I wanted to see you, not just talk about how you drop kicked me out of your life.” 

“I wouldn’t say I drop kicked you...” 

“You kissed me, ran away in a split second, and then proceeded to block me. I think that is the definition of drop kicking someone.” 

“Actually, I think it’s when you jump up and kick someone.” You joked, attempting to redirect the conversation away from your mistakes. 

“I’m about to drop kick you if you don’t take this seriously.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what? Drop kicking me or making a joke out of it when I’m trying to be vulnerable with you?”

“Both.” You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable and feeling as though you were a child about to go to the principal’s office. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, I think I’m just trying to protect my own.” 

“David’s right, you are selfish and trying to talk to you was a mistake.” Tom shook his head, rising from his seat. 

“Tom, wait.” You grabbed his arm, only for him to shake you off. 

“I have been waiting, Y/n. I’ve been waiting the past year for you to talk to me or be willing to see me and every time I think you will, you disappoint.”

“Tom, I-”

“You know, I begged your parents to let me come here to see you, to spend time with your family? They didn’t ask me. Once I realized you were never going to speak to me again over something so stupid, I had to swallow my own pride, unlike you, just to see you again.” Tom ran a hand through his hair, attempting to calm down as he looked away from you. “I swallowed my own pride to see you choking on yours and still acting as if I was the one in the wrong somehow. You kissed me, you blocked me. You didn’t even let me assess the situation before you did it for me and now I’m the bad guy?”

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” 

“Really? Because both Charlie and David have said multiple times that you claim that I rejected you when I never did. That you could just tell that I didn’t like you so you pushed me away when the truth was that I did like you. God, Y/n, I’d been in love with you since primary school and the one time I realized you reciprocated feelings, you ran away like you hadn’t.” 

“I’m sorry, okay?” You cried, falling back into your seat. “I didn’t think it would be a huge deal until it was and I was scared that the outcome of my actions wasn’t going to be the one I had been hoping for. When I kissed you, you didn’t seem to like it and when I ran, you didn’t chase after me and I took that as you not liking me and wanting to get the fuck out of the situation.” 

“But that’s what I’m saying, Y/n! You’re always so focused on yourself that you don’t even realize how other people are feeling. I tried to run after you, I did, but I lost you halfway up the stairs and I couldn’t remember your room number.” Tom explained, exasperated. “I even tried to call but you didn’t pick up and your brother and sister convinced me it was best to just go home so we did. I thought you needed space, but once it got to be so long, I didn’t know what to do.” 

“You really chased after me?”

“Of course I did. I loved you, Y/n. I wanted to be with you. I’m here because I still do, but I’m starting to think this was a mistake. I should go, I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Tom straightened up before turning on his heel and starting to walk back to the table to collect his things and leave. 

You watched as he did so, something in you pulling you up off of your seat and making you grab him by the arm even though you wanted to cower away like you once had before. 

Tom turned towards you, about to say something when you collided your lips with his, the action feeling more natural than it had the first time you kissed him. He melted into you, his free hand resting on your hip as he kissed back, causing you to smile at the gesture before pulling away. 

“Please, Tom, don’t go.” You whispered. “I want you to stay. I want to make it up to you for all the heartache and lost time. I never meant to hurt you and I was being selfish and that wasn’t fair. I want to try to work something out with you.” 

“If I stay will you buy me that drink you promised?”

“I’ll do anything if you stay.” 

Tom looked away for a moment, as if he was pondering something. “Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

“Tom, please.” 

“Fine, I will stay, but only because I already ordered food.” Tom joked, raising his hands defensively as you pouted and gave him a look. “I’m kidding! I want to stay and work something out, I swear.”

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Just based on “Baby It’s Cold Outside” 

Warnings: Written quickly and with little editing so I’m sorry if it’s not up to normal standards! No actual bad warnings! 

Word Count: 1700

_______________________

You curled into Tom’s warm body while you sipped what remained of the hot chocolate that you had been enjoying throughout the Christmas movie you and Tom had been watching. It didn’t take much convincing to get him to give into watching your favorite holiday movie. 

Tom was a sap when it came to the holidays. Holiday movies, Christmas music, baking cookies, excessive amounts of hot chocolate, driving around just to look at Christmas lights, and building snowmen were just a part of the holiday season with him and you loved it. How could you not? Especially when it meant you were snuggled into your boyfriend’s body with his arms wrapped around you and a ridiculously fluffy blanket cocooning the both of you. 

The credits had begun to roll though and you sighed, enjoying where you found yourself on this wonderful night. Tom clicked off the movie and tightened his arms around you, taking a big inhale of your scent that he wished he could be shrouded in for forever. He glanced down at your wrist, which now bore the beautiful bracelet he’d given you just earlier that night, a simple thin silver chain with small pieces of your favorite gemstone. Your eyes lit up when you opened the long box and you had thanked him repeatedly before he saw the panic flash in your eyes when you made a comment about how much it must have cost him. Tom had reassured you that it really hadn’t set him back much at all, which wasn’t a lie. He wouldn’t have cared if it did, though, because there was nothing that he could give you that would show you how much he loved you. 

“I don’t want to go home.” You groaned, burying yourself impossibly further into his hold. 

He chuckled, pulling you tighter to him, “Then stay.” 

You began to run your fingers over the top of his hand, tracing each knuckle gently, “I wish I could. I promised my parents I’d stay the night at their house tonight. Besides, I don’t want to drive in the snow this late.” It was Christmas Eve and your mother wanted to open presents first thing in the morning, just like how it was when you were little. She had been emotional and nostalgic this holiday season, the reality that her babies had grown up getting to her, and had made plans to make Christmas as close to how it was when you were children as possible. You really didn’t mind much, though. You only wished it didn’t mean you had to leave Tom’s loving embrace. 

Tom sighed and shifted as you stood up heavily. He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times and the beginning notes to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” began to play from the small device. You rolled your eyes and laughed, “Are you serious?” 

He stood up beside you and captured your body in his arms, as if he was going to begin a waltz with you. One hand rested on your waist and the other held your hand gently, “Very.” He smiled, looking down at you as he began to sway your bodies side to side. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You giggled in disbelief that he was pulling this card. “I really can’t stay.” You sang along with the music when the lines came up. 

“But baby it’s cold outside.” Tom sang back in response. 

With a chuckle, you pulled away, Tom’s grip on your hand tightening as you tried to walk away. The music continued serendipitously in the background as you laughed at the cheesiness that was your boyfriend. With a small tug at your arm, you spun into his body where your hand came to his chest, enjoying every bump and dip under his shirt.

My mother will start to worry

Beautiful, what's your hurry?

My father will be pacing the floor

Listen to the fireplace roar

So really I'd better scurry

Beautiful please don't hurry

Well maybe just a half a drink more

I'll put some records on while I pour

“I love you but I really have to go.” You pouted, leaning your head against his chest as you let him hold you just a little longer, “My mom is going to think I’m dead or something and then my dad is gonna kill me for making her worry.”

Tom kept his grip on your body, using his large hands to sway your bodies in time with the music. “Can’t you tell them you got stuck in traffic? Or maybe you just drank a little too much and didn’t feel safe to drive!” He wiggled his eyebrows, hoping you’d take his offer. 

“I can’t lie to them on Christmas!” You laughed, side stepping in time with Tom. 

He let go of you only long enough to sprint to his kitchen, “You don’t have to lie! I’ll make you something right now! I got beer, gin, vodka...” 

“Tom!” You chased after him and stood off to the side with your hands on your hips while you watched him mix a drink together, “You’re going to end up on Santa’s naughty list for trying to get me drunk.” 

Tom only shrugged, “I already have what I want for Christmas.” He put the finishing touch on the mystery drink he’d mixed up for you and handed it to you proudly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, looking down at the drink that appeared to be a mixture of a clear alcohol you hadn’t paid attention to and cranberry juice. He nodded his head a little, silently insisting that you take the drink. “You think you’re so charming.” You chimed, teasing being the only weapon you had against his powerful spell on you. With an eye roll, you took the drink from his hands and swirled the liquid around. 

The neighbors might think

Baby it's bad out there

Say what's in this drink?

No cabs to be had out there

I wish I knew how

Your eyes are like starlight now

To break this spell

I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell

Why thank you

I ought to say no, no, no sir

Mind if move in closer?

At least I'm gonna say that I tried

What's the sense of hurting my pride?

I really can't stay

Baby don't hold out

Baby it's cold outside

Keeping eye contact with him, you sipped the cocktail and sputtered when the fiery liquid went down your throat, much stronger than you’d expected, “What the hell is in this?” You asked through a mixture of laughs and coughs. Usually you were alright when it came to strong drinks but this one just took you off guard. 

“Nothing you don’t like!” Tom defended, knowing how you liked your drinks mixed. He had been in a rush though and had accidentally been heavier handed with the liquor than intended. 

“I have to drive. I’m not going to finish this.” You insisted, setting the glass on the counter, “Though your persistence is charming.”

“Is it working?” He asked, hope in his voice. 

You feigned a look of ponderance before taking off in a playful run back into the living room. Your keys were on the table and just when you bent down to pick them up, Tom grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down to the couch on top of him. “Mind if I move in closer?” 

You laughed as your body gave into Tom’s every touch. You didn’t even try to escape his clutches this time, only held onto his strong arms that were wrapped around your torso so you could touch him in some way. Your head rolled back onto his shoulder, eyes sliding shut, “You know my weaknesses.” 

“Of course, I do, darliing.” He gave you a cheeky smirk. 

The two of you snuggled into each other’s embrace. Tom was so comforting, even when he was being a pain in the ass like right now. The way his scent enveloped you - clean but warm - made you never want to leave this spot for as long as you lived. “At least I’m gonna say that I tried.” 

You gave into Tom’s efforts for a while and laid there with him, the music playing in the background and the fireplace roaring. Your eyes opened again and you watched the snow fall outside, Tom’s breathing, the flames, and the music creating a perfect ambience for your moment of weakness. 

Your phone buzzed on the table and groaned, reaching out blindly to grab it. It was your mom, of course. “Who is it?” Tom questioned. 

“My mom. She’s asking if I’m okay.” You read over the message before glancing at the time, “Shit, it’s already almost midnight. I really do need to get home.” 

This time, Tom reluctantly let you sit up to type your reply. “Fine.” He whined, though not actually trying to make you feel bad. He totally understood why you needed to go home. He was just having fun messing with you tonight. 

You stood up, grabbed your keys, and made your way to the front door where you slipped your boots on. Tom came up to stand beside you while you were bent over and you came face to face with him when you stood up. He had a mischievous smile on his face that took you a moment to process until you realized his arm was outstretched above your heads. In his hand was a small sprig of mistletoe. With a little laugh, you leaned up onto your toes and pecked him on the lips, “You know you didn’t need the mistletoe for that, right?” 

Tom tilted his head back down again for another kiss, “Yeah, I know, but I figured it would add a nice touch.” 

“Merry Christmas.” You wrapped your arms around him one last time and looking up into those beautiful brown eyes that you got lost in. 

Tom’s lips turned upwards, almost like elfishly so, “Merry Christmas, love. You’re still coming over to my parents’ for Christmas dinner tomorrow?” 

You nodded, “Yes, I will be there tomorrow night with pumpkin pie.” You pecked him on the lips just one last time for good measure, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

[typewrittenluck]

Sorry General

AN: Okay hehe this is my first time ever posting a fic so be nice :/. It’s basically just self-indulgent Obi-Wan angst-fluff because I miss him and I’m excited for the new show. This takes place during The Clone Wars, Season 2, Episode 10. But you don’t have to watch it to understand what’s going on. Anyways enjoy!

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: None, Anakin being a lil’ shit

(gif creds to owner)

General Grievous had escaped yet again. It seemed as if every time the Jedi came close to capturing the sleaze ball, he would slip right through your hands. You could sense the tension in the air as everyone onboard the landing craft shared your anxiety, which increased your frustration by every person that you could feel through the force. It of course didn’t help that you were sent down to capture Grievous with none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi, who always had a knack for making you agitated.

As soon as the ship's doors opened, you began to take long strides out, already beginning to scope out the area and make mental notes of factors that might be influential to your mission.

At General Kenobi’s command, you and the troops began to move towards the wreckage of Grievous’s ship in hopes of finding something that would lead you to the General himself. 

After scouting out the ship, Rex determined that the General couldn’t have been far off.

“We’ll split into teams. Rex, take Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, and Y/N and search those wetlands.” Obi-Wan said, gesturing vaguely in your direction.

“Actually, Kenobi,” you spat, “Seeing as I am a General, and therefore rank above Captian Rex, I will lead the troops to conduct a search of the wetlands.”

“Oh, right, of course General Y/N. I wouldn’t want to undermine your notable past with leading battalions and strategy missions.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Why I ought to-”

“Excuse me, Generals, if I may,” Rex stepped in between you two. “we really shouldn’t get distracted from the situation at hand.”

“Yes, of course Captain.” you replied, still glaring at Obi-Wan. “We should get going”

“Right. Cody, you, Crys, and I will pick it up from here.” said Obi-Wan. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, turning to face you. “If you get a visual on General Grievous, for the love of the force Master Y/N, make contact before you make any rash decisions to engage.”

“From the two of us, Master Kenobi,” you replied, “It is not I who have a track record of making rash decisions.”

Once you were out of earshot, Cody spoke up. “Forgive me General, but you seem worried. I’m sure that General Y/N and Rex are capable of handling this. They are both very wise individuals.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, apparently deep in thought. “Yes. Wise indeed.”

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

You felt a tug on the force and turned around just in time to see Rex get shot by a Commando droid. 

“REX!” you screamed, as you and the clones rushed over to him.

Jesse and Hardcase finished off the last few droids before joining the small crowd gathering around Rex. It was deemed that the safest plan was to find shelter for the night, so that Rex could heal.

You and the clones made sure that Rex was as comfortable as possible and well-taken care of in the barn that you had secured a place in before you hopped on your speeders and continued your search of the wetlands. 

“General, if it’s not too personal to ask, why do you and General Kenobi seem to fight about everything?” Jesse piped up after a little while.

“That is an extremely inappropriate question to ask your commanding officer soldier.” you snapped back.

“Right. Sorry.”

But it was too late. The question opened the floodgates that you worked so hard to keep closed. The overpowering emotions that you trapped behind a wall came rushing out and now, that was all that you could think about.

The constant questions. Why did Obi-Wan hate you? Why did he feel like you were inferior? Why is he so adamant that you shouldn’t be in charge of battles?

The constant anxiety. What if it’s a reflection of what the council thinks of me? What if everyone else feels that way too and they are just better at hiding it? What if I pass on my incompetence to my Padawan?

And above all, the crippling guilt. You were guilty because you felt responsible for him not liking you. You felt guilty because you broke the code. You felt guilty. Because you loved Obi-Wan Kenobi.

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

Obi-Wan had been a Padawan for a mere two weeks, when a young girl from Dantooine had opened the doors to the Jedi temple, leading the way for an amused group of older Jedi. She had begun her training not long thereafter. On her first day, she walked into the training room and looked around, scoping out the area to decide where she would be comfortable. To Obi-Wan’s surprise, she picked a spot next to him. 

Since that fateful day, their friendship blossomed, mainly due to the fact that their masters, Qui Gon Jinn and Ki-Adi-Mundi, were good friends. Obi-Wan and Y/N became very close. Closer, in fact, than any member of the Jedi order should become to another lifeform. But it was inevitable. The two were so alike and their personalities clashed together perfectly, as if the force had made it so that the two would meet. All of the older Jedi sensed the rising emotions in the two young apprentices, and they felt the need to take preventative measures. So when a mission with an indefinite length popped up on the faraway land of Mandalore, the council saw it as the best opportunity to give the two a break from each other. They sent Obi-Wan on a year long trip to ensure the safety of Mandalores sovereign ruler, Satine Kryze.

Y/N spent her time away from her best friend meditating on her emotions, and came to the conclusion that she had fallen for him. It was against the code. It was against her plan. But she had fallen, and fallen hard.

Obi-Wan ended up with a similar conclusion, after realizing that his emotions towards Satine were anything but new feelings, and he had experienced those same emotions a hundred times stronger towards Y/N.

The problem was that the two apprentices dealt with their feelings in completely different ways. Y/N became awkward and always on edge, and Obi-Wan saw it best to cut her out of his life as much as possible.

Which led them to where they were now. Grown members of the Jedi order who were still harboring childhood crushes on each other, buried deep, deep down.

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

You were cut out of your train of thought by Obi-Wans voice.

 “Captain Rex, come in please.”

“This is Y/N, Rex was injured.” you replied, still a little dazed by your sudden surge of emotion.

“What’s his condition?”

“He’ll be fine, but we had to find him shelter for the night.”

“Grievous is on the move. We’re headed to the West.” said Obi-Wan. “Swing around and we can meet up at the final escape pod. We’re going to need all of the firepower that we can muster.”

“Alright, we’re on our way.” you said, sharply turning your speeder around as the clones did the same.

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

You arrived at Obi-Wans position just as you saw a ship attempting to land. You ran into the fray of flying bullets and disembodied droid limbs, jabbing and parrying with your lightsaber to get to Obi-Wan.

“Concentrate your fire on that ship!” he roared to the tanks.

He got distracted by his wrist-com and didn't see a laser ray coming straight at the back of his neck. 

“Keep firing. Don't let that ship land.” he said, as you jumped behind him, drawing your lightsaber to deflect the bullet. He seemed shocked by your sudden appearance.

“I believe a thank you, Master Y/N, is in order.” you dead-panned.

He rolled his eyes, but mumbled an unintelligible thanks.

“The guns are overheated!” you heard a clone say from his wrist-com.

“It’s always something.” Obi-Wan grumbled in response. “Cody, Jesse, cover me!”

“Wait!” you exclaimed after him. “Where are you- oh nevermind.” you sighed as you saw him speed towards Grievous. You sprinted after him, knowing that he would need help.

He began fighting the foul droid General, their battle just a blur of blue and green light.

Just as you arrived at the fight, Grievous was climbing up the side of the ship. “Forget trying to land.” he growled in his raspy voice. You, however, were preoccupied with Obi-Wan who was knocked to the side. He groaned as you knelt by him, reaching feebly behind you as you heard Grievous say “Fire the engines.”

He was lifted into the night sky, narrowly dodging clone bullets as he laughed maniacally. “Jedi scum!”

“Are you alright?” you asked him.

“No.” he sighed in frustration. “We’re right back where we started!”

He called back to Cody. “Call the cruisers, see if they can stop that ship! And tell them to send someone to pick us up.”

You sensed his frustration and heard the defeat in his voice.

“Obi-Wan,” you started tentatively.

“What?” he snapped, his anger evident.

“I know it seems like a total failure-”

“Oh but it is!” he cut you off with contempt. “I’ve lost countless troops, just trying to capture Grievous, and now he’s right there. And I let him slip right past my fin-”

“No!” you cut him off this time. “This kind of talk is what leads to anger. You and I both know that anger leads you down the path of the dark side. This isn’t your fault Obi-Wan.”

Calling him by his first name is what, over all the other things, seemed to get through his head. “You don’t,” he stopped, looking into your eyes. “Blame me?”

And in that moment, standing in an empty battlefield in the middle of Saleucami, you both knew that he was talking about much more than this lost battle.

“You’ve done all that you can do. You did what you thought was right.” you replied.

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Cody, saying that the transport had arrived to take you all back to the main ship. You two held eye contact for a brief moment before turning and heading in the direction that Cody had gone.

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

You stood in the bridge, looking out of the enormous window with Admiral Yularen right beside you. A droid came up behind you two and tapped you on the shoulder.

“Jedi Master Y/N, Jedi Master Obi-Wan requests your presence.”

“How is he?” you asked.

“He is doing well! He has sustained only minor injuries and will heal very soon!” the droid replied chirpily.

“That’s a relief. Where does he want me to meet him?”

“His private quarters, I believe.”

“Top secret Jedi business, I presume.” chuckled Yularen as you blushed a bright red. You had a sneaking suspicion that this had nothing to do with the Jedi order.

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

“Y/N.” He greeted you, bowing his head and using the force to close the door behind you.

“Obi-Wan.”

“I’m sorry.” he blurted, taking you a little by surprise by his bluntness. “I know that I confused you and I make you feel unwanted at times and I am the reason our friendship was ruined and I promise I have an explanation which is no excuse but you deserve to know why I-” he stopped rambling when he saw your raised eyebrows and caught himself. 

He took a deep breath before beginning again.

“I had a lot of time to think when I was on Mandalore. But I kept thinking about the same thing. You. I couldn’t stop. And it was all that got me through each day, the thought of your face, and your smile, and your laugh. But that’s against the code. And the only way that I could get over you was to cut you off. But it didn’t work because by the stars and the planets Y/N, I love you. I care deeply for Jedi traditions and maintaining the code, but I love you Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“Oh Obi,” you sighed, stepping closer to him. “I realized it same as you. We have been drawn to each other since we met. It’s almost as if the force wanted us to be. And every day since that day that you left for Mandalore, I have looked at the sunrise, hoping that one day, it will bring light to what we once had.” You placed your hand on his scruffy cheek and stroked his jaw as he leaned into your touch. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into a hug, burying his face into your hair as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.

“Master- Oh! Sorry!” Anakin walked in, making you and Obi-Wan leap to opposite sides of the room, both of you burning a bright crimson color. Anakin’s eyes darted between the two of you, a smirk growing on his face. 

“Not a word, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said sternly, already having an idea of the things that he knew that his former Padawan would say.

AN Again: I just really want a hug from this man 

[killian-spey]

Death Would Be Kinder [Prologue]

Next Ch.

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 1591

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad.

TW/CW: violence

AN: Idea came from @prose-for-hire ‘s submission to the fic title game. It's a tad different from the original concept, but I just had so much fun with it! (Planned to be somewhere between 5-10 parts.)

It was Buffy’s 17th birthday today, but the mood seemed too heavy in the car for any giggling between the two of you. Truth be told, you both had a lot on your minds; not that you would have actually told her anything about your problems. You were staring out the window, picking absently at some dried paint on your arm; you never were able to master being tidy while you painted. Your older sister, Jenny, was driving the two of you to The Bronze, where the rest of the group was lying in wait to surprise her with a birthday bash. You made eye contact with her when she looked through the rear view at you, and you could tell she was just as worried as you were about recent developments.

Your Uncle had come into town recently and berated the two of you for letting Buffy and Angel get so close. Unfortunately for you and Jenny, if something didn't change quickly, Angel could lose his soul. All the work of your ancestors taken to curse him would be undone, and there would be no way to fix it. It's not that you wanted Angel to be unhappy, but the vengeance curse against Angel was not only important to your people, but possibly the thing that kept him from being a monster. If anything jeopardized that, it would crush Buffy and the gang. You didn't want to let anyone down.

Jenny pulled into the side street -having arrived at The Bronze- and you undid your seat belt. Before you could open your door, Buffy pulled your hand away from the handle.

“This looks funky, stop for a sec.”

You and Jenny both squinted, trying to see what she was even talking about. It took you both a moment, but sure enough there were two vamps clambering around on a truck in the shadows. Jenny tried to talk Buffy out of fighting them, but she left anyway. Something about destiny and all that. You were just impressed she could see that well in the dark.

Watching Buffy fight the vamps left you wincing, pitying the undead for having to go through such a beat down. You hung on the edge of your seat and leaned on the passenger seat in front of you. The two of you left in the vehicle hadn't had a chance to talk in private since Uncle had spilled the beans on the Angel problem.

“What are we going to do about the curse, Jenny?”

She made a face and shook her head, she didn't know what to do either. She knew more about the curse than you did -magic was never your strong suit- and if she didn't know, you both were stuck.

“If only there was a way to separate them.” You were spit-balling.

“Right, and how do you suggest we do that?”

She had a point, Buffy and Angel had been practically attached at the hip recently. You opened your mouth to speak, but paused as Buffy tossed the last vamp through a window into The Bronze. You and Jenny both made reactionary sounds that could only be summed up as “Yikes noises” and scrambled out of the car. Buffy hopped through the broken window and you both inspected the window. Jenny picked up a crate one of the vamps had been carrying and carried it inside.

After some pleasantries and some “Yeah, sorry! Vampires exist” talk with Oz, the group crowded around the mystery box. It was no secret that those vamps were Spike’s men, so whatever it was, it was definitely not good.

Your worry was confirmed when an arm shot out of the box, strangling Buffy before she and Angel managed to rip it away from her throat. According to Angel, it was the arm of The Judge. That meant Spike was building a one-man-apocalypse like some kind of demonic Lego figurine.

You glanced at Jenny, trying to communicate your plan silently as you addressed the group. “Someone has to take this thing as far away from here as possible- separate it from the other pieces.”

Jenny was quick, immediately understanding your idea.

“Angel, it has to be you. You're the only one who can protect this thing.”

It took a little convincing, but a plan was soon agreed on. You and Jenny shared a “Thank God” glance, secretly pleased that Angel and Buffy would be separated, at least temporarily. You could rest easy in the fact that Angelus wouldn't be loosed on the world in a freak accident of soul-losing proportions.

Or so you thought...

A couple hours later, you were back in the library doing research. Angel and Buffy had lost the box, and had everyone regroup to study up on The Judge.

To be entirely honest, you were doodling in your notes. Every text on The Judge said exactly the same thing, sometimes even verbatim. The Judge cannot be killed by any weapon forged by Man. It was exhausting!

Luckily for you, Buffy decided to break up the research with some good old fashioned recon, and Jenny suggested you go with them. Buffy was about to protest, but you cut her off.

“With the exception of you supernatural folks, I do have the best track record of holding my own. No offense, guys,” Xander seemed less than pleased with your not-so-subtle brag, but you continued anyway. “And, I’d be able to map parts of the facility super quick and easy. We’ll need that info if we plan on making a move.”

Reluctantly, Buffy and Angel agreed to take you with them and you snatched your notepad and pencil from the table, glad to be free from the texts and tomes… Even if it meant putting you in direct danger. You briefly wondered if maybe you shouldn't see a therapist about that someday, but shrugged it off as the three of you left the building.

---

Upon reaching the factory, the three of you climbed the fire escape and ducked into a broken, old window over a set of rafters. You had already begun sketching the layout of the rooms as you took in the sights below. It looked like some kind of party, to be plain. Vamps were crawling all throughout the place, a crystal bowl of what looked like punch rested on a table covered with cups in the middle of the warehouse space, and tall lattice-backed chairs were loosely strewn around a banquet table. You and Buffy creeper ahead on the grate walkway above it all. Your eyes were locked on the party, but you could assume Angel was following behind; he was too quiet for you to hear.

Your eyes fell on Spike, he was in a wheelchair. He seemed to be enjoying himself despite his weakened state, talking to someone just out of your line of sight. Not a second later, you saw Drusilla dancing her way across the floor, swaying to her own beat and sweeping the red chiffon ribbons of her dress through the air. Buffy gasped softly, but you didn't see whatever she'd seen.

“That's him. The Judge,” Angel whispered from behind you both and pointed.

You saw him, just as he craned his ugly blue head up to spot the three of you gawking. Fuck.

You spun to face the window, finding two vamps in the way of your escape. Buffy and Angel had flanked you from both sides, but fighting this many vamps was completely futile. Before long, the three of you were dragged in front of Spike, Drusilla and The Judge. Spike rolled his chair forward to get a better look at Buffy.

“Well, Well- look what we have here! Crashers.”

“I'm sure our Invitations just got lost in the mail,”

You almost rolled your eyes at Buffy’s one-liner. How she managed wise-cracks at a time like this was beyond you. Ignoring the monologues, your eyes darted around in search for an escape method. Nothing came to mind, but when you turned back into the conversation, Drusilla’s eyes had locked with yours.

She was ever so slightly swaying to music you couldn't hear and your eyes followed her intently. She raised two fingers, pointed at each of your eyes and gestured to her own. She beckoned you. She was enchanting. Beautiful. She was- she broke contact as Buffy suddenly made a move and you took a second to follow suit, twisting out of a vamp’s hold and knocking him -and accidentally yourself- off balance. You were suddenly unsure of your footing, almost groggy as you fought.

Angel pulled a chain, crashing a pile of video monitors you hadn't noticed down from their perch onto The Judge. The three of you scattered. You ducked behind some crates and heard Drusilla call for the lackeys to chase. You spotted Angel and Buffy slipping into a sewer drain and psyched yourself up to book it twenty feet to get there to join them. You took one last look behind the crates -Drusilla locked eyes with you- and you booked it, not entertaining her gaze this time.

As you dropped down the sewer drain, you caught a glimpse of her, just staring at you. You scanned both directions of the sewer system, but found no trace of Buffy or Angel. In a split second you picked a direction and ran. You didn't stop running. Not for breath, not to look behind you, and certainly not to entertain the nagging memory of Drusilla’s eyes, staring into your soul as they'd done just minutes ago.

Read Next Ch.

[jamaiskookie]

reese-with-her-spoon [ksj x reader]

👾 warnings: really shitty writing, honestly not my best work. :-((

👾 word count: 4.5k

👾 genre: fluff!!! crack!!! all the good shit!!!

👾 A/N: kicking the week off with some fLUFF to prepare you for the ~spook~ that is arriving soon. hope you enjoy this! why do i feel like i have to mention joon’s bonsais in every fic

main masterlist. spooktober masterlist. 

👾 synopsis: in hindsight, attempting to get back at the biggest prankster you know during halloween was probably not your most stellar idea. 

“Kim Seokjin!” You screech furiously, pacing outside his ridiculously large cottage-style home. Passerbys worriedly look your way, but you cannot bring yourself to be embarrassed. The house stands still. Nobody seems to be moving, much less rushing to get the door, despite the fact that you’ve pressed the doorbell countless times already. 

“KIM SEOKJIN!” You yell again, glaring at the house as if your steely gaze will force him to come out. “What the hell could you be doing?” You mutter to yourself. “It’s not like you have a life or anything.” You reach out, stabbing the doorbell again. 

“I can hEAR the goddamn bell ringing inside come get the dOOR JIN!” Someone on the inside is stomping down the doors and you hear a scuffling accompanied with whispers. Smirking satisfyingly, you bang the door. “Good, now come out, you coward!” 

The door opens… to someone that is not Seokjin. Kim Seokjoong stands on the other side, quizzically raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Y/N, hey- wow. He did that?” Kim Seokjoong is Seokijn’s older brother, a self taught coder who basically spends every waking moment of his day on his computer. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him out of the house. 

His eyes are fixed above your eyes, and he smiles, quietly giggling to himself. You pull your hands back, reminding yourself that you need to save your temper for the real culprit. 

“Would you just-” You point inside, not meeting his eyes. “- let me in?” Seokjoong nods, stifling a laugh. You glare at him, and he promptly shuts his mouth. “Aren’t you supposed to be in university now, you unemployed leech?” Seokjoong flinches and mumbles something about how you’re supposed to respect your elders. 

“Here, come in.” He says, sighing. “Just don’t murder him in the house, okay? Mom’ll get mad.” Seokjoong stands aside and lets you in, looking around outside and shutting the door, putting a finger to his lips. “He’s been upstairs cackling his ass off since you started screaming and pounding the door twenty minutes ago.” You look up at the ceiling, only to wince at the screaming picture of a witch stuck on the ceiling. 

The Kim household during Halloween season is quite- festive. Pumpkins, witch hats, ghost cutouts and much more are scattered and adorned all around the house. You just know this is Jin’s doing… the doctor printout with cat ears on the wall that reads ‘I’m A Purr-amedic!’ gives it all away. You squirm when you have to pull away fake cobwebs out of your face to go up the stairs. 

“So, how are you going to do it this time? Sneak attack, retaliate? Do me a favour and don’t douse him with a bucket of syrup like you did last time. He was sticky for weeks, and we had an ant infestation.” Seokjoong pants and follows you up the stairs, questioning you. You stalk up the stairs, gripping the handrail tightly.  

“- Okay you’re starting to look scary now. Please don’t kill him.” He says, and you don’t bother giving him a response. 

“Which one is he in?” You eventually say, looking around the closed doors in the hallway. Seokjoong turns to look at you, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“You’ve been up here thousands of times, Y/N.” You flick his forehead and he lets out a cry of pain. 

“No, that’s not what I mean. Which room is he hiding in?” You ask. He hesitates and you, exasperatedly, point to the top of your head. Guiltily, he points to the furthest door to the right, looking up at the ceiling and fiddling at the hem of his shirt. Muttering a rather curt ‘thanks’, you stomp over to the purple and orange decorated door that is labelled “SPOOKY SUPPLIES.” You pause to sigh at Jin’s stupidity, then you fling the door open with a bang. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHH-” As expected, Seokjin is inside, wearing his worn out black hoodie and sitting on a pile of Halloween decorations. You put your hands on your hips and glare at him, but his screaming slowly turns to laughter, which just makes you even more mad.

“- Oh my god hAHHAHAHAH! You look hilarious!” He yells, slapping his thigh and laughing in his obnoxious, window wiper-like voice. “It turned out better than I thought it would!” He marvels through his laughter. Your glare turns meaner, and you stare straight into his eyes, shutting him up. 

“Kim. Seokjin.” 

“... Yes, my love?” He smiles innocently, batting his eyelashes. You resist the urge to slap him. 

“Care to explain to me why the hell my hair is bright red?” Jin, not able to hold it in, bursts out laughing again, burying his face in his hoodie, attempting to muffle his laughter. It doesn’t work very well, and he comes back up for oxygen, taking a large breath. 

“In my defence,” Good luck with that, you think. Nothing would be able to help his case and keep you from murdering him. “- I didn’t really think it would work this well!” He takes one more peek at your hair and chokes back another laugh. “Oh my god, you kinda look like a pumpkin!” 

This time, instead of holding back your violent tendencies, you grab a foam pumpkin from the ground of the supply closet and hit him on the head. Unfazed, he just looks back up, still infuriatingly giggling. 

“Don’t worry,” He says. “It’s not permanent.” You huff, secretly relieved. “... Well, it should be temporary. I think. Probably.” You lift the pumpkin foam decoration and hit him again. “Hey! Why are you hitting me? You look good in red! Now you can be Ronald Mcdonald for Halloween!” You raise the pumpkin (Who you have begun to affectionately call ‘Jin Hit Pumpkin’ in your head) to hit him again, but he squeaks and covers his face, so you put it down. 

“I swear to god, Jin,” You scold. “If this doesn’t wash out of my hair, I will sue.” Jin looks sheepishly up at you before ducking his head down and walking out of the storage closet. He glares at Seokjoong the second he steps out, who is apologetically smiling at him. 

“Traitor.” Jin mutters, stabbing a finger in his older brother’s chest. 

“I’m sorry!” Seokjoon defends. “She’s real fucking scary with the red hair!” You turn over to glare at them, and the two brothers recoil, murmuring apologies. You point at Seokjin, locking your eyes with his while walking backwards down the stairs, at the exact same time. 

“You. Watch your fucking back, Jin. I’ll get back at you for this.” You slowly disappear from the brothers’ eyeline, and they hear a door slamming shortly after. Seokjoong sighs and places a hand around Jin’s shoulder. 

“You have weird taste in women, bro.” Jin pushes his hand off his shoulder, rolling his eyes and retreating to his room, grumbling something that Seokjoong didn’t manage to hear. 

👾.

Kim Seokjin is a force to be reckoned with, even you have to admit. For someone who claims to be an unoriginal copycat, his pranks are pretty creative. You would never ever tell him this, of course, but you keep a list of the pranks he’s played on you. 

It’s not much of a list, actually. More like a three notebooks’ worth of practical jokes. And after all these years, he’s somehow never repeated one of his pranks. Only the stupid, small ones, but that’s inevitable. You can’t count how many times you’ve sat on a whoopee cushion. 

But also, who the fuck still uses whoopee cushions? You’re almost convinced Seokjin has a lifetime supply that he’s just trying to use up with the amount of cushions he has to go through every single year. You tap your pen against an empty page of a notebook, frustratingly chewing on your lip. This prank is a new one. Jin’s never done anything to your hair before, so should you do something to his precious hair? 

Come to think of it, how on earth did he even manage to sneak into your house and replace your shampoo? Maybe you can charge him for breaking and entering. You tap at your computer and groan when Google says that a minor will mostly likely get a fine for breaking and entering. The most they can get to one year of detention punishment. 

A year is hardly enough of time away from Seokjin and his stupid pranks. How much time have you wasted stressing over his jokes? You wonder. Last year, you didn’t sleep well for a good two months when he managed to stuff a walkie talkie underneath your bed. 

He made creaky chicken noises while you were sleeping for two whole months before you managed to find out why the hell chicken sounds were coming from your bedroom every night. Begrudgingly, you have to admit that that one was pretty smart. But you aren’t too mad about that incident. He lost just as much sleep as you did by making those goddamn chicken noises. At the time, you asked him why he didn’t just loop a recording or something similar, but he just grinned and quipped that he didn’t think of that. 

You got back at him a week later by posting a particularly ugly selfie from his middle school days on instagram. It had nearly 8,000 likes before he found you and forced you to take it down. You also got a week of detensions when he tattled on you for sharing photos without the owner’s consent, (Which is the most bullshit thing you’ve ever heard,) but it was pretty worth it. 

Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair, scoffing and whining when you realise again that your hair is now fucking red-! Faded red, but it still looks horrible. Maybe you should dye his hair red, just to match. Seokjoong would probably let you in if you bribed him enough- with cookies, obviously. But he’d probably look good in red hair, that insufferable, good-looking idiot. What could you do… What could you do? You drop your pen onto the notebook, and a huge grin slowly spreads on your face. You might just have an idea.

Halloween night. A time for budding teenagers to make bad decisions. Or alternatively, a time for Seokjin to go absolutely insane. You don’t know how he does it, but his parents go away every single year for the week of Halloween. He throws the craziest costume party every year, and always tries to come up with the craziest costume. 

Last year he was a ‘waist of time’. Completely shirtless, he wore a belt with a watch looped around it. Not his best idea, since he had to go around the whole night explaining to people what he was dressed as. The year before he was a ‘hipster vampire’. Completely shirtless, he wore fangs with fake blood with circle sunglasses with a jet black cape wrapped around his neck, with the words ‘SAVE THE BEES’ embroidered on the back in yellow and white. 

Yeah, there’s a little bit of a pattern. 

“Soo, what are you doing for Halloween this year?” You sweetly ask Jin, who is walking through the hallway after slamming his locker shut. One of his hands holds the strap of his backpack, and the other hand knocks at your head. Pulling back, you stare at him weirdly. 

“What are you doing.” You ask. He doesn’t respond. Seokjin leans in, curiously looking at your face. You blush, pushing him away, but he continues to look at you, tilting his head and humming to himself. “What are you doing?” You say, moving further away from him. 

“You haven’t gotten rid of your red hair yet?” He says, reaching out and stroking the red hair. You slap his hand away and he retracts it, still smirking gleefully. You had spent the entire weekend before attempting to watch the red out of your hair. The result was a faded berry-black dye that’s been stained in your hair. You scowl, turning away and smacking him in the face with your hair just for good measure. 

“How could I get rid of it? It won’t fucking wash off, dumbass! This is all your fault!” Jin hums thoughtfully to himself, scratching the underside of his chin. He looks like a premature grandfather recalling his days in wartime. 

“Damn,” He swears under his breath. “I guess my prank backfired.” 

“Backfired?” You stop in the middle of the hallway to face him, and he slowly turns around to do the same, quizzically raising an eyebrow at you. “Don’t you mean your prank was a success? I thought you’d be ecstatic to know that my hair now looks like a rotten strawberry.” 

Jin shakes his head with a slight smile. “No, it backfired.” 

“You look really good with red hair. This prank probably affects me more than it does you.” He says nonchalantly, turning away and walking down the hallway. Your eyes follow him, watching as Taehyung, Jin’s friend and the school’s resident art hipster launches himself on him and koala hugs him, cackling when Jin screams and starts yelling at him. 

“What… What? What did he just say?” You say to yourself, blinking blankly. 

Maybe your plan backfired too. You approached Jin with the intent of sabotaging his Halloween night, but what you walk away with is neither an evil plan or a satisfied smirk on your face. You spin around in a daze, heading to your calculus class with a bright red blush lining your cheeks and the beginning of a daydream starting to form in your head. 

You practically collapsed in your seat, not listening to the teacher, who is currently scolding you for being late. You nod, blurting out an apology, even though you didn’t hear 90% of her rant about the significance of education and time. 

“Psst!” Namjoon, the only friend both you and Jin share hisses at you, jabbing the head of his pencil into your side. You hiss back, smacking his pencil back. “Why is your hair red?” You glare his way. 

“Don’t ask.” You grumble. 

“... Okay then. Why are you late?” He asks. “I was going to wait for you after homeroom, but you didn’t didn’t come to your locker so I left without you.”

Disregarding his question, you lean over, propping your head onto your hands. “Are you going to come to Jin’s Halloween bash on Saturday?” Namjoon snorts, turning back to the teacher to make some quick notes in his notebook. 

“Of course. Do you know how much shit I’d get if I didn’t show up? He gets so pouty and pissed about his Halloween obsession. And now I have to come up with a relatively creative and funny costume to satisfy his requirements for the stupid costume party he hosts!” He complains and whines at you. You laugh, and can’t help but agree. You’ve been forced to attend every single Halloween bash too. “You know what I came as last year, right?” He asks. “I came as a bonsai tree, and he got so mad! Said that I put “no effort” into my artistic choices. I spent like two hours glueing those leaves onto my shirt!” Namjoon huffs, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What do you think I should go as?” Namjoon shrugs. “You can wear whatever you want, it’s not like he’ll care about what you’re wearing. As long as you show up, he’s happy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, frowning. Namjoon immediately shakes his head at you, smiling slightly strangely. 

“Nothing!” 

You stare at him suspiciously, but you don’t comment further. Namjoon’s just weird like that sometimes. “Hm. Can I bounce some Halloween ideas off of you then?” He nods, shrugging to say he doesn’t mind. You lean in and whisper something into his ear with a mischievous glint in your eye. Namjoon bursts out laughing in the middle of the empty classroom when he hears what you have to say. 

👾.

Another thing to add to your neverending list of things Kim Seokjin can do; Throw a party. For Halloween night, the household gets even more festive, if that’s even possible. Every inch and every corner of the front yard, interior and outerior is plastered with some kind of Halloween themed merchandise. 

There’s even a large hand drawn sign outside that says ‘NO TRICK OR TREATERS PLEASE.’ Not that any sane child would ever come within a mile of this place. You could hear the blasting music from three blocks away. You wonder how long it’ll take for somebody to call the cops this year. But then again, it’s probably more likely that the police would join the party instead of arresting the partiers. God knows the police have better things to tackle on Halloween night anyways. It’s the major season for crime and stupid desicions, of course. 

In your humble opinion, Halloween is the most useless holiday out of them all, with Valentine's day coming in at a close second. What’s the point of celebrating a large westernised holiday? The main purpose of Halloween is literally so children can get free candy and for college kids to get wasted and pass out on the lawn with a slutty cat outfit on.

You don’t see the point, but if you even voiced your thoughts aloud within a five mile radius of Jin, you’d get murdered. That man lives, breathes, and eats Halloween all year long. He complains about it not being October yet constantly, puts ghost stickers everywhere when September begins (For his “pre-celebration”), He’ll even buy anything that has the words ‘pumpkin spice’ on it. You’re slightly worried sometimes that it’s an actual addiction. 

Hallow-diction? You’ll work on the term. 

You already regret your choice of wearing heel when you trudge through the grass of Jin’s front yard, covering your eyes from the couple who is basically having clothed sex against the wall outside Jin’s home. Who knows how many blisters you’ll wake up with tomorrow morning? At least your legs look amazing. 

The sky is dark and dreary, a rather fitting night for Halloween to be on, but inside the house, it’s loud and you can already hear people getting drunk and dancing. Taking in a deep breath, you push open the door.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but if anything, the inside is worse than the outside. You’d rather go back to the couple having clothed sex. People dressed in outrageous costumes are dancing on the floor to some rapper you can’t recognise. You can already spot five sexy cats, at least 5 witches, and too many angels for you to count. Maybe this is a bad idea, you think. It’s not too late to go back home, you reason with yourself in your head. The sweaty bunch of people drunk dancing and screaming is already sounding off all the SOCIAL ANXIETY QUICK RUN sirens in your brain. 

But before you can turn around and give into your instincts, a hand clamps onto your shoulder and pulls you into the house, leaving you longingly staring at the front door, the only chance of your freedom taken away. Namjoon spins you around to face you and nods appreciatively. He’s dressed as a ‘french toast’, a striped shirt, mustache and barrett accompanied with a slice of bread costume slung over his shoulders. 

“Hey, you look good!” You giggle at the praise. The only good thing about tonight is how great your outfit looks. “Aw, man!” Namjoon whines. “Maybe I should have gone as an angel! Then we would have matched!” You laugh, the sound drowned out from the blasting music. 

“Angel and devil? That’s hilarious!” But you spin around anyway, showing off your bright red bodycon dress with lace cutouts. A pair of embellished devil horns sit on your head and you personally attached a spiked tail to your dress just this morning. All topped off with a cropped leather jacket that you already have the urge to take off. 

“Yeah, you look super fucking sexy, wait until Jin sees this!”

“Hm? I can’t hear, it’s the music-!” 

“Nothing!” 

You spin around, looking left and right throughout the house. You can’t seem to find Jin anywhere, but that’s alright. He’ll find you soon enough. You still wonder what sort of shirtless, punny, dad joke style costume variation he’s managed to come up with this year though. 

“What happened to your sabotage plan? I was surprised when the whole house didn’t explode in stick bombs… or something worse.” Namjoon shudders in his toast outfit. 

“Eh.” You shrug, shifting uncomfortably. “I just thought I should enjoy Halloween, you know? Try not to make Jin miserable for once.” 

“Well, looks like you ended up pranking him anyways,“ Namjoon gestures down your figure. “Whether you meant to or not.“

You have no clue what Namjoon is talking about, but you were originally planning to come armed with all the sabotage tools: toilet paper, stink bombs, elephant toothpaste… the works. But you ditched the idea after a bit of thought. What’s the use of getting back at Jin on Halloween anyway? He’ll just get back at you, twice as hard. Your hair is already red- you couldn’t risk anything else. 

An off-putting, familiar voice speaks from behind you. Looking up, Namjoon is already gone, which means- 

“Speak of the devil.” You mutter. “Oh, hey!” You chuckle at the accidental joke. “Speak of the devil, because tonight I’m the literal devil, haHahhahHAH I’m so funny-!” 

“y/N, you’re here!” Sure enough, Jin stands behind you, completely- shockingly, in a turn of completely unpredicted events- shirtless. His abs should be outlawed, you think. They shouldn’t be allowed to be just hanging out. He should at least come with a warning sign. ‘WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHEST AND STOMACH MAY CAUSE SHORTNESS OF BREATH AND DEATH DUE TO THIRST.’ 

At first sight, he just looks like an average frat boy, with loose sweatpants dangerously hanging down at his hips. But after squinting, you notice he’s holding… a spoon? And a packet of reese’s cups? 

You slowly turn around, and Jin’s eyes widen comically, his jaw physically dropping. He drops his metal spoon on the ground, but doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I- Y/N! I-? Wha- ? I- wah- wow. Wha?” If there was a human expression equivalent to ‘??!!!?’, Jin’s face would provide the perfect definition for it. He chokes, and coughs back, leaning over the counter and clutching at his chest. 

“Woah- Are you okay?” Jin, holding a finger up, swallows down some phlegm and continues to ogle at your costume. 

“Okay.” He says, after he finished coughing. “When I told you that your costume had to be creative, I didn’t mean- this.” 

“What do you mean, do I look bad?”

“No, trust me, you don’t. But there are so many pervert guys out here tonight who would take advantage of you, so be careful. Stick to me.” You look up and down at him, from his abs which are completely on display, to the sweatpants that would definitely get him arrested for public indecency. 

“Are you talking about yourself?” Jin leans down to pick up his spoon while you speak. “What are you supposed to be anyway? A frat boy from the 90s? An ex-con who just got out of jail? A college dropout?” Jin frowns. 

“Why is nobody getting my costume tonight?” Holding up his Reese's pieces to his face, he smiles brightly and explains. “I’m Reese,” He lifts up the spoon. “- With her spoon!” You stare at him. He sighs and stomps his foot against the floor. “I’m Reese Witherspoon.” Your mouth opens in an ‘o’ in realisation, nodding. “Not my best idea, but still smart. I never fail to amaze myself year after year.” Clearing his throat, he spares another glance to your dress and tears his eyes away straight after, averting his eyes and bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. 

“Uhh,” He says, awkwardly. “Devil. It fits you! You know, with the red hair.” You nod, thankful that he’s actually acknowledging the effort you put in your costume this year. Last year, you showed up as a powerpuff girl- Blossom. He got angry and ranted for hours without end about how Bubbles was clearly the superior powerpuff girl. 

“I know, right!” You say cheerfully. “Your stupid prank actually gave me an idea, so I guess I should thank you.” Jin looks at you expectantly, and you shove him back. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to actually thank you, jerk. You still dyed my fucking hair red.” 

“Fuck,” Jin curses. “I did this, didn’t I? Goddamnit, I told you this prank would end up affecting me more than you!” 

“Huh?” 

Jin continues to curse at himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and deeply regretting his life decisions. From behind him, Min Yoongi is calling him to join for a game of spook-pong (A game Jin invented; It’s like beer pong but with mystery drinks), but he ignores his name being called. He so quickly averts his eyes down at your chest again, blinking and drawing back like he saw a ghost. 

“Anyways,” He says, pulling you around to place his hand over your shoulder, forcing you to press into his slightly sweaty chest. He walks you over to the spook-pong table. “Don’t wear this again, okay? You’re going to give me a heart attack.” He looks over at you when you begin to laugh. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious! I can’t look at you right now without- ugh. This was a bad night for me to choose to wear sweatpants.” He steps away from you and buries his hands inside his pants pockets, clearing his throat in a moment of strange seriousness. For a split second, you think he might have something important to say, but he just breaks out into a signature Jin grin, smiling toothily at you. His face is too cute to match his bare chest, you think to yourself. 

“Have a nice Halloween, Y/N. Call if you need anything, okay? I’ll come find you after I smash this game of spook pong.” You nod and he goes off running towards Yoongi, who is already complaining about what took him so long. Jin laughs and snatches a ping pong ball from him, already screaming about how there’s no chance the inventor of the game could lose. 

On the opposite end of the table, Jimin and Jungkook are making faces at him. You smile and break out into a laugh. Halloween night is rather fun, you suppose. You sigh. Maybe if you stop spending Halloween as a way to get back at Jin’s stupid pranks, it would bump Valentine’s day up as your most hated holiday. Namjoon appears by your side, shaking his head at you for no reason. 

“You still don’t get it?” He asks, gesturing to Jin. You stare blankly at him, moving away when his toast costume accidentally smacks against your devil tail. 

“Get what?” Namjoon continues to shake his head, smiling in a one-day-i’m-going-to-kill-you kind of way. Men are so confusing. 

(At the end of the night, you draw dicks and other incriminating things onto Jin’s back with the help of a distracting Namjoon. It was his fault for being shirtless- and besides, you can’t let Halloween night go completely to waste.)

👾talk to prankster!jin! add yourself to the taglist!

TAGS; @extremeobsessions101​ @bishuthot​ @stonyiscanon​ @jksbbyfacebunny​

[bittysvalentines]

From: @redneterp

To: @leftwinglibrarian

Rated T, 3K, no significant warnings apply (Canon-typical content, and story contains a very vague spoiler for the ending of a piece of media released 6 or 7 years ago)

Gift for: LeftWingLibrarian, who asked for “Fake dating, bed sharing, first kiss, friends to lovers, basically any fluffy tropes.” I think I hit 3 out of 4 of the above, and got a couple more ideas from your tumblr. I hope I guessed correctly and that you enjoy! Happy Valentines day!

***

“The giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza?” Adam guessed. “Oooh, or the 30 Rock Tour! Wait, would that still open by the time we got to NYC? Or the observation deck?”

“No, no, and no,” Justin replied. “And those totally count as 3 guesses, so you only have two left.”

“Bro, objection!”

“Overruled, you know the rules. It’s two questions left or game over. Those are your options.”

*

The guesses had begun as they’d left Haus 2.0 earlier that afternoon, as Adam tried unsuccessfully to identify their mystery destination. Justin had kept his plans secret for months, only to have the surprise nearly ruined by Sandeep-From-Coding the day prior. He’d joined them in the Nutrition Nook (yes, that was the actual name their employer used, there was even a distressed-wood chalkboard sign with that name overhanging the corner) during afternoon coffee break, and extended an invite to join the Coding Bros at “the sports bar with the good wings” to watch the Bruins’ game. Justin had declined, citing previously-set plans for Saturday afternoon, then was later forced to admit to Adam that he wasn’t just trying to avoid an intra-office rivalry with Coding by preventing Adam from both arguing the superiority of Buffalo wings to those from any other city and pronouncing that the Sabres would kick the Bruins’ asses, but that he really had made plans he couldn’t divulge. Justin was able to appeal to the D-Man Code to secure 24 hours free from questioning, but as they left Haus 2.0 on foot Adam insisted time was up.

“Dude, all you’ve told me is to ‘dress nice, but not formal,’ you’ve got to tell me more. You’d better not be dragging me to work on our day off.”

Justin swore they weren’t heading to the office, and eventually agreed to Twenty Questions regarding their destination. Adam had tossed out a few wildly varying suggestions as they rode the T downtown (Science Museum. Brewery tour. Aquarium.) and waited for the train at South Station (Going to Samwell to decorate the Haus in epic style while SMH was off on their C&C roadtrip weekend). He pulled out the puppy-dog eyes as they settled into their seats on the train, begging Justin for some scrap of information, and Justin relented to admit “Fine, I can tell you that this is an early Chrismukkah gift since we won’t be together on the 24th.”

After a soliloquy on the importance of the character of Seth Cohen to young-Adam that earned them a glare from the woman seated across from them, the hint led Adam to speculate about Christmas or Hanukkah-related events along the Northeast corridor, ending with the trio of Rockefeller-related guesses.

With the final-questions warning, Adam turned to the window, apparently deep in thought trying to make his final guesses count. The last of the golden-yellow light from the sunset streamed through the window, highlighting his jaw and creating a halo around his blond hair. Fuck, Justin thought, had Holtzy always been this gorgeous? He spent a few minutes appreciating his best bro’s face, momentarily distracting himself from worrying that Adam might not enjoy the surprise after all, as none of his guesses had been remotely correct. Had he misjudged his bro?

As the train briefly stopped at the Samwell station, Justin returned his thoughts to the present and distracted Adam with a conversation about SMH’s season to-date which carried them through until the train approached Providence Station. As they slowed to a stop he stood and grabbed Adam by the arm, tugging him off the train.

“Providence? Are we visiting Jack?” Adam asked as they emerged from the station and headed towards the river.

“The Falcs are in Edmonton tonight. And that was number nineteen. One left.” Justin replied with a smirk before leading them across the river and through the park, following a route he’d carefully chosen on Google Maps to keep their final destination secret. In the dim gap between streetlights Justin surreptitiously patted his jacket pocket, triple-checking that the tickets were still there. They continued to banter as Justin led them through downtown, arriving at the restaurant a few minutes early, though it was already packed. The hostess confirmed their 5:45 reservation, but noted that the table wasn’t yet free before offering them a seat at the bar while they waited.

“So, this coal-fired pizza must be really good to warrant a trip from Boston.” Adam noted after they’d each ordered a beer.

“Google says so,” Justin replied. “And was that your final question?”

“Objection, that was a statement, not a question. I reserve my right to my final question.”

“Sustained. Shitty’s taught you well.”

“Who knew that sharing a Haus with a law-student would come with so many unexpected benefits? And before you ask, that was a rhetorical question unrelated to today’s plans and still doesn’t count for the total.”

Justin laughed and nodded in agreement, before the TV behind the bar caught his attention. The station was replaying Premier League highlights from earlier in the day, and soon they were engrossed in a conversation about Chelsea’s chances for the season. They leaned close together to be heard above the din in the restaurant, and Justin felt a warmth inside, reminded of how lucky he was to have such an amazing BestBroTM.

*

An hour later, Adam leaned back in his chair. “I’m stuffed,” he said, patting his stomach. Together they’d polished off a starter and an entire pizza. “Google was right, Rans, that was amazing.”

“Definitely,” Justin agreed.

“I might order another beer, though. Do you want one, too?” Adam asked.

“That might not be the best idea.”

“For you, or both of us? Wait, was that a clue? Do you have something planned beyond dinner?”

“That’s three questions again, which puts you beyond twenty, so I’ll just answer the first - I meant for both of us.” Justin guessed they’d both lost their tolerance since graduating, as they’d only made it to one Kegster the whole semester, and he didn’t want to risk either of them dozing off midway through the main event. “Maybe coffee would be a better idea?”

“Are we pulling an all-nighter? And I will qualify that question with the note that I am not asking about the surprise itself, merely a health-and-safety question about appropriate beverage consumption. I am, as you know, very safety-conscious.” Adam finished, pressing his right hand over his heart.

Justin laughed. “Sure Holtzy, I believe you. And let the record note,” he continued, trying to match Adam’s serious tone, “that an exemption has been granted. No, I do not anticipate that an all-nighter will be required.”

Adam stroked his chin. “Hmm…”

Justin pulled out his phone as subtly as he could, tapping to check the time, surprised that it was already past 7pm. The time had flown by, as always, as they’d discussed everything from the prospects of their favourite teams in three different leagues to the sitcoms that Adam insisted needed to be moved to the top of their Netflix queue. “However, we do need to head out shortly, so if you do want coffee we should order it soon.”

“Are you getting one?”

“Nah, I’m fine without.” Justin replied. Checking the time had made his anxiety regarding whether Adam would actually enjoy the surprise return with a vengeance and he could already feel his leg twitching; adding caffeine to the mix would not end well.

“Then I’m good, too. Should we get the bill?” Adam asked as he reached for his wallet.

“I got it, bro. It is Chrismukkah, after all.”

*

“Thanks, man,” Adam said, slinging his arm around Justin’s shoulder as they stepped out of the restaurant.

“Got your back, dude,” Justin confirmed, returning the gesture as he wrapped an arm around Adam’s waist and directing their path the remaining few blocks to the PPAC.

As they rounded the final corner and the lights of the marquee came into view, Justin couldn’t resist peeking out of the corner of his eye at Adam. The reflection of the lights sparkled on his glasses, behind which his eyes grew wide as they got close enough to see the crowd in line outside the doors. As they neared the end of the line and were close enough to read the stylized script, Adam stopped abruptly.

“Once? You’re taking me to a musical?”

Justin couldn’t parse Adam’s tone, and his suddenly his heart was racing. “Is that ok? I hoped you’d like it, from the reviews it sounded like a musical rom-com so I thought you would, but I realize now I’ve never heard you sing songs from it so maybe I was wrong?”

“Dude, not wrong.” Adam turned and crushed Justin to himself in a tight hug. “I’ve only seen clips from when it won all those Tony’s, but that doesn’t mean I don’t already love it.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper in Justin’s ear, “Best Chrismukkah gift ever. Really.”

Justin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he relaxed in Adam’s arms. After months of anticipation and planning and keeping this a secret (even doing all of his research in incognito mode so that his browser history and targeted ads couldn’t give things away if Adam borrowed his laptop), everything had worked out. They were at the theatre, his Best Bro was happy. It was all worth it, and the show hadn’t even started.

Adam relaxed his hold on Justin. “I can’t believe you kept this secret from me! I never would have guessed, really, even if it was Sixty Questions.”

Justin smirked and waggled his eyebrows as they joined the line of excited patrons.

*

Ten minutes later, they’d made their way inside, visited the washrooms, and found their seats.

“These are amazing seats, Rans, we’re so close to the stage! Wait, is that an actual bar on the stage?”

“Yup. Still want that beer? We can go up and grab drinks if you’d like.”

“Tempting, but I don’t want to forget a second of this. Did you know I’ve only seen one live musical before, not counting my sisters’ school productions, which do not count.”

“I might have heard something about the life-changing experience of seeing Rent when you were in grade 11…” Justin said with a smirk.

“Grade 11? What is this foreign language I hear? I was a junior, and …” Adam’s argument trailed off as one person after another wandered to centre-stage holding instruments and beginning to play. “Wha…?”

Justin nodded. “Pre-show music, that’s why I may have rushed to get us here.”

“How did you know about this?”

“Dude, how dare you doubt my research abilities!”

“Apologies. You are now, and forevermore, the king of research and spreadsheets,” Adam acknowledged with a head bow and hand flourish, before turning to watch the pub party breaking out on-stage. Musicians congregated amidst the crowds hovering around the bar, dancing and playing folk tunes. Adam watched, a giant grin on his face. “I’ve heard there’s no orchestra, all the music is played on-stage by the cast. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah!” Justin nodded. Adam’s enthusiasm was infectious.

After several rousing songs, the lights dimmed, and the audience returned to their seats. Soon the stage was dark, with the light focused on a single musician strumming his guitar. The show had begun.

Throughout the first act, Justin felt his attention split between the amazing performance on stage and Adam’s reactions. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Adam tapped his feet along with the performers dancing on tables, laughed along with their jokes, or wiped a tear away as the Girl sang a wistful solo alone at the piano. As the lights rose again at intermission, Justin turned to see Adam staring at the stage, still mesmerized after the whole cast of musicians had joined a group song-and-dance number at the pub. “So? Enjoying the show so far?”

Adam took a deep breath, as if his pulling his soul to rejoin his body, before turning to Justin. “Enjoying it? Rans, there are not enough words to express how I feel about the power of music to stir human emotion.”

“That good, eh?”

“Good enough that I won’t mock you for saying ‘eh.’”

“How about the power of cookies?” Justin asked as he recognized the smell of baked goods wafting through the theatre. “The internet says that getting a chocolate chip cookie during intermission here is, like, required.”

Adam lauged, “Well, if it’s a requirement. We can’t let the internet down, after all.”

“Never!” Justin agreed.

*

An hour and a bit later, after the auditorium had erupted in applause and the cast took their final bows, Justin sat in silence, staring at the stage. Was that how it ended, no magical reconnection but a bittersweet parting? He couldn’t explain it to himself, but it felt like a personal loss. A loud sniff to his left caught his attention, and he turned in time to see Adam wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his button-down. Justin dug the cookie-napkin from his pocket and passed it over so that Adam could blow his nose properly.

“Thank you, Rans.”

“No problem.”

“No, man. Not for the napkin, or, well, not just for that, but for all of this,” Adam waved his hand about. “Dinner. The show. Everything. This was one of the best nights of my life, Justin.” Adam fixed him with an intense look that Justin couldn’t interpret before reaching to grab his hand in a firm grasp.

“You’re welcome … got your back … always.” Justin squeezed Adam’s hand back, hoping it would express some of the feeling that he couldn’t put into words.

They sat like that for a few beats before Adam pulled back. “I could sit here forever, but I guess the ushers wouldn’t appreciate that.” He looked around, just noticing that most of the audience in their section had already cleared out. “Wait, do we need to get to the station? Isn’t the last train soon?”

“It leaves in five minutes,” Justin replied. “But I didn’t want to rush you, so Jack said we could spend the night at his place.”

“Bro, you’re the best,” Adam said, leaning over the armrest to rest his head on Justin’s shoulder for a minute longer, before they stood and un-pretzeled themselves from the tiny seats. “Dude, these seats were not made for D-men. Were people in 1920-whatever a lot shorter?”

Mood lightened, they shrugged into their jackets and left the theatre. The temperature had dropped to just above freezing, but both preferred to walk, so they tucked their hands in their pockets and headed towards Jack’s building. They were quieter than their usual, rarely speaking but occasionally bumping shoulders or elbows, each lost in thought.

*

Justin was glad to see DeShawn was the doorman on duty when they arrived, as he’d met them often and was unlikely to create a fuss about non-residents asking for admittance. Sure enough, he greeted them warmly and handed over the keyfob Jack had left at the desk in Justin’s name. They rode the elevator in silence, and let themselves into Jack’s apartment, before dropping their shoes and jackets in the hallway closet.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Justin asked, waving a note he’d found on the pool table. “Jack says there are muffins and mini-pies from Bitty in the freezer, and to help ourselves.”

“I’m good, thanks, maybe in the morning?” Adam said. “But go ahead if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, man, I’m still full of pizza. What happened to us? Less than a year away from competitive hockey and our stomachs must have shrunk, now that we aren’t burning thousands of calories a day skating.”

Adam rolled his eyes and let out a half-hearted laugh.

“Are you tired, bro? I stashed some of our stuff here last time,” Justin said, as he led the way into the guest room, dug the duffle bag out of the closet, and dropped it on the bed. He pulled out a bundle of his clothes and toiletries and passed the rest of the bag to Adam.

Adam dug through the bag. “My old Bruins shirt, I wondered where I’d left that.” He then pulled out the small bag of toiletries. “You even packed my spare contact case? Bro!”

“Excel said there was a 30% chance you’d wear contacts today, so ..” Justin shrugged, “Got your back.”

“You always do. And I’ve got yours. Always,” Adam said, quiet and intense. It sounded like a vow, Justin thought, before Adam broke their fixed look with a shake of his head, and turned to the bathroom.

Moments later, Justin returned to drop his clothes on the guest room chair, and found Adam was already settled against the pillows, glasses propped on the bedside table. Justin hovered at the foot of the bed, suddenly uncertain. He realized then that as he’d planned this weekend, without making a conscious decision he’d visualized the two of them sharing the guest bed, but was that ok to want? To ask for?

Adam interrupted before his thoughts could spiral, “Dude, get in here.”

“Is that ok, bro? I could crash on the couch.”

“How many times did we share the bottom bunk when the Haus ghosts interrupted your dreams? I think there’s room in a Queen bed for us both, comfortably. But you’re getting the lights.You know the rules, you’re the last one standing.”

“Ghosts aren’t real!” Justin shot back automatically, yet he still moved as fast as he could across the dark floor to hop into the warm bed. He shuffled, determining the most comfortable spot on a new mattress as he listened to Adam’s steady breathing next to him. It felt so good to share a room again, as if a piece of himself that was missing slotted back into place. This was home, he realized, and he didn’t ever want to leave or grow apart. But what if they did, he thought. Isn’t that what happens to college friends, they eventually grow apart? Unbidden, a lyric from the show came to mind “you’ll be just a man, once I used to know…” and he knew he didn’t want that to be true. He didn’t need to run the pros and cons or compile spreadsheets, it was an immutable fact. He wanted to spend the rest of his life right here, Ransom-and-Holster, together. Before he could get lost in questioning what to say, Justin took the plunge, turning on his side.

“Holtzy … Adam? I’ve gotta say something.” He reached out, tentatively reaching out until his fingers hit what felt like Adam’s elbow. He took a deep breath and continued, “You’re the most important person in my life, and I think you always will be. I don’t want us to grow apart, or for you to be that guy I once knew that I tell stories about. You’re my person. Wait, is that a line from one of your shows? Nevermind, don’t answer that, because if I stop I might not be able to say what I need to say, and that is that I love you. Like, I am in love with you. And I may have only just realized that, but it’s the absolute truth.” In the faint glow created by the lights from the city below he could see Adam’s eyes widening as Justin spoke, mouth gaping like a fish. “Is that okay? Did I just ruin everything?”

“No!” Adam flipped towards him, clutching onto Justin’s sleeve. “You didn’t ruin anything. Did  - do - do you really mean that?”

Justin nodded, tilting his head closer, “I really do.”

“Because I’ve been in love with you forever, but I didn’t think you would ever feel that way, so I kept it to myself.” Adam shrugged, causing his arm to move under Justin’s hand.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. But I’m here now,” Justin added, trailing his fingertips up Adam’s arm until he reached his jaw. Their faces were only centimetres apart now. He slid his hand further along the side of Adam’s head, thumb stroking his cheek. “Can I?”

Adam bridged the remaining gap between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. One kiss became another as they melted into one another, Adam’s arm reaching across Justin’s back to pull him close. Soft and sweet became deep and passionate before ebbing back again like a tide. This feels right, Justin thought, pulling back just enough so they could look at one another again in the dim light. His hands cradled Adam’s face, thumbs brushing against the stubble on his jaw as he felt the warmth of his cheeks and wondered if Adam’s face looked as flushed as it felt. That was an appealing thought, Justin realized, as he dipped forward again to plant a soft kiss on one cheek. “Ok?”

“So very ok,” Adam confirmed as he shifted onto his back, tugging Justin with him.

Justin happily snuggled into place, his nose pressed against Adam’s neck with Adam’s arm warm across his back. I’m home, was his last thought as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

** 

[eottoghe]

Little Boxes - Nine

A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

"Can you please put the sweater back on?" Jeonghan is wrestling with the laces of his new Doc Martens (all the cool kids are wearing them nowadays) all while policing Chan from a distance. The kid is less than subtle about his distaste for the article of clothing by the way he carelessly tosses it aside. It'd been 30 minutes of back and forth banter between the two. It was the great debate over what Chan was most “comfortable” in. It was clear who held the power. And just in case it wasn’t… it’s Chan.

Jeonghan made a point to purchase outfits that had similar color schemes or designs in hopes that they would get the perfect picturesque family photos during their outings. Carefully, he would scan the stores for hours to find the clothes that closely resembled each other in his, Seungcheol’s and Chan’s sizes. It was no easy feat so he’d appreciate it if Chan appreciated his effort. The six-year-old doesn’t understand it now, but he’ll thank him later. Jeonghan is sure.

Jeonghan had been sorting through several sweaters to match their “sweater weather” theme for the night, but Chan had a complaint with every. single. one. This one's too tight. This one's too long. I hate the color green. 

Which he totally did not, Jeonghan might add.

He finally decided to put his foot down and was dead set on this candy-apple red, knitted sweater trio he’d found earlier this season. He told Chan there were no more butts on this one and left to get ready himself. But, each time Jeonghan would force the damned garment over his head, he'd turn around not five minutes later to see Chan in nothing but his dark washed jeans, undershirt and snowman socks.

"I don't wanna!" Chan whines before giving the discarded sweater a little kick. Jeonghan inhales a deep, murder-doesn't-look-good-on-a-resume breath and just barely bites back the annoyance in his voice.

"And why not?"

As if it's the most obvious thing in the world, a true fact only dummies wouldn't know, Chan fusses, "Because it's itchy!"

Seungcheol takes that as his cue and stands up from the couch where he'd been tapping his foot in boredom. His back grew stiff due to his hunched over shoulders. The amount of time it took the two to get ready on average was rivaled by no other. But today was exceptionally long. Of course, if he ever told his husband that, Jeonghan would have his head so instead, he quietly keeps to himself.

That is, until the 6th time Chan stripped. It was really getting old.

"You said that about the last three." Seungcheol interjected.

Chan, standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, pouts at his dad, but Seungcheol isn't deterred. "Well your dad and I are going to be matching. You don't want to feel left out do you?" Chan shakes his head "no" even if you can still see the defiance burning in his eyes. It's actually quite adorable when you don't consider the fact that they're 10 minutes behind on top of a 15-minute drive without traffic. 

"So will you please put back on the red sweater?" After a long staring match, Seungcheol tacked on, "If not for me, do it for your tummy! They'll have hot chocolate and I'll let you get as many marshmallows as you want."

That does the trick well enough as Chan grabs the sad lump of knitted cotton from the floor. His arm gets stuck in the neck hole while his neck gets stuck in the arm hole, but that's more progress than they've had all night. Jeonghan sighs in relief. Of course, Seungcheol could have helped earlier when he noticed Jeonghan couldn’t get ready because of the attention given to Chan, but he won’t ruin the mood with that detail.

When they're all finally dressed and Chan balances the reindeer antler headband on his head, they're off to the car, fighting their way through the chilly winter.

Wrapped in a plush, snowy white blanket, Chan is nestled in between his parents. The tour hasn't officially begun, yet Chan already seems like he's about to burst with excitement. The trolley they’re in has glossy wooden benches lined down the middle, while the sides serve as walkways. The old-fashioned style of the trolley has golden accents making Chan think it’s fancier than it really is. But the best part is that they’ve lined the bus with Christmas lights and have already began playing festive music. If he wasn’t in the mood for it before, he surely is now.

They’re still sitting at the port, waiting for people to file in. They picked this one in particular because of the complimentary heated blankets and snacks. Both Jeonghan and Seungcheol knew Chan would be standing up out of his seat and venturing around once they got going, but for now, it’s nice to just share the space.

It’s funny how Jeonghan had been the one to suggest the Christmas lights tour. Seungcheol knows from personal experience that Jeonghan and the cold don’t mix. Yet there he is, risking his comfort to ride around in an open window, old fashioned bus on this frigid winter night. He mentioned seeing it in the movies one night and apparently couldn’t shake the idea from his head. Snuggling up against the ones you love, drinking hot chocolate all while seeing the pretty Christmas lights twinkling around you. It imprinted itself on his mind, convincing him from the beginning that he wanted that experience. Even when a soft breeze sweeps by bringing shivers, the bubbly atmosphere makes it all seem much warmer.

There are heaters by their feet and above their heads so they aren’t consumed by the overwhelming cold, but when they’re in a vehicle with no windows, there’s only so much they can do.

Seungcheol wants to reach out and boop his husband's red nose. Maybe make a joke about how he looks like Rudolph. Maybe tease him for the slight tremble of his goose bumped skin. Instead, he brings his arm around his shoulders, pulling both Jeonghan and Chan closer. The move makes the youngest of their trio giggle with his body firmly trapped in between the two. Chan’s hyper feet kick as he complains, “Daddy is squishing me!”. A choir of angels singing truly can’t compare to his son’s laugh. It’s the most refreshing and healing sound and Seungcheol is so grateful to have it in his life. He always gets so soft around the two when they look so happy.

Soon after, the trolley began its journey, slowly weaving through rows of lights strung up in elaborate patterns.

It was dark, sure, but their family shined radiantly under the glow of reds and greens. Chan, as expected, got up from his seat and climbed dutifully into Seungcheol’s lap. The view seemed much better to him that way. And to top it off, “Santa Tell Me” played through the trolley’s speakers. It had somehow found its way into the little one’s heart. Jeonghan should be used to it, but it still caught him off guard every time Chan began singing full lyrics in English. Hell, the boy probably knew more of it than he did. And even when Frozen’s “Let it Go” came on, Seungcheol joined in to harmonize with the overjoyed kid in his lap. Jeonghan made sure to take a video of the two while they were distracted. His husband was bold and loud when he wanted to be, but if he knew Jeonghan was recording, he’d get all shy in an instant.

The staff came around with thick paper cups, steam gently rising from their warmth. Reluctantly, Jeonghan removed his arms from the comfort of his blanket cocoon to take one for Chan and one for himself. Before Jeonghan could give him the “behave” glare, Chan was already asking if he could have extra marshmallows. Seungcheol had basically promised him he could get however many he wanted and Chan was never one to forget. The kind woman handing them out decided to give him a separate cup of marshmallows to go along with his hot chocolate because “he’s just too precious!”. Chan was simply irresistible and even strangers were trapped under his charm. Jeonghan definitely thinks he gets it from Seungcheol.

By the end of the night, their hands were numb and their noses frosted. But Jeonghan still needed his family photo!

They gathered in front of the Christmas tree, back at the trolley’s main station. Jeonghan grabbed one of the passersby and asked if they could take a quick picture for them. They posed for the camera, arms slung around each other and chattering teeth smiling wide. In the end, they decided to keep their coats on so it truly didn’t matter that they took time matching anyway, but the idea of it was unifying enough.

Years from now when Jeonghan looks back at these pictures, he’ll be able to recall the happiness bubbling from his tummy as the hot chocolate, knitted sweaters, and love from his family keeps him warm.

~~

If baby Chan had a birthday party, what would the theme be?

I’m a day or so late. I’d been planning this for a month, but it still took me forever to get it out and it’s incredibly short. Don’t hate me please! Thank you for reading and enjoy some sweet Christmas fluff. Whether you celebrate or not, I hope the day was still great for you. 

Next Chapter

[the-colony-roleplay]

COLONY 22′S 2ND ANNUAL APPRECIATION AWARDS 

Oh, how much could change in a year. 

Alex Donovan remembered last year, as disinclined as he’d been to agree to be one of the three hosts for the night, how he’d watched the frantic decorating committee’ and thought: well at least I’m not one of those unfortunate fools.

And this year, well—he was very nearly one of those unfortunate fools. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was one of a ‘committee’, but he’d been helping bring out boxes to the decorating team all ever-loving day,  and several hours ago they’d begun asking his opinion on things and he’d declined to answer at first. But somehow, come 4pm, he’d found himself up to his neck in garlands and twinkle lights and about to be late for his afternoon training session. 

When he walked into the auditorium after dinner (sporting black trousers, a white T-shirt and a deep blue blazer) he had to admit he was impressed. And maybe just a little proud. Because looking around, the room had truly been transformed. A lot of hard work and love had gone into it, clearly, and if nothing else, it would surely make Mitch beam. And Heaven bless that ever-optimistic, selfless man—he deserved at least that this season. It made any suffering on Alex’s part worth it, knowing the event was that much more likely to be the success that the original Calyset Head of House dreamed it would be. 

What set this year apart from the last—aside from the Reformist-shaped elephant in the room—is that they’d gone full out traditional Christmas this year. Not wintery blues and silvers (a good thing, too, because it may have just been a throw back to the Modius’ Brink Tower reopening—not a failure by any means, but just a sore spot on the roof of the mouths of too many here), but instead, warm and boasting golds and reds and forest greens. Rich colours hung from the walls and pillars in thick tapestries and glowing lights. Ribbons and wreaths and candles sprinkled the room with a bursting festiveness, and not one, but three Christmas trees brightened up the room—even the damaged areas, rubble and broken seats simply became the contrasting foundation of effervescent decorations. 

There was even mistletoe. In one or two surreptitious places, waiting patiently for unsuspecting victims.

Okay... so it did look a little like Christmas had thrown up all over the old theatre. But hell—if that was its worst flaw, they had nothing to complain about in their post-apocalyptic today. 

People filtered in slowly, chatting and laughing and mingling about, making comments about their outfits, the decor... and Alex supposed that even those who thought the night a waste of time, at the very least, it couldn’t be said that it hadn’t already brought a certain atmosphere of light-hearted relief over the modest, island Colony. Even if just for a night. 

At about a quarter after seven, the house lights faded in and out three times, a voice coming over the loud speaker to ask that people take their seats, as the ceremonies were about to start. Taking that as his queue (and Christ, he still couldn’t believe Mitch had asked him to do the opening speech this year—though somehow the fact that Alex had been convinced was less of a surprise, considering his track record with being unable to tell that man no, for just about anything) Alex politely excused himself from his conversation with Cambie, and threw Caelan a grin and a wink when he spotted him striding by with Isha and Clay. Left a smile and a light touch on Clayton’s elbow as they crossed each other’s paths. 

And then he was trotting up stage steps, with people still settling into their seats. The lights dimmed, a spotlight panned over to him, and applause grew from the crowd. Chuckling, eyes cast down as he shook his head, he found his place at the podium:

“Good evening, Colony 22. I’d like to start off by saying thank you, to everyone who worked so hard to make this night happen—and that includes all of you who have participated just by being in attendance tonight. Truly, we appreciate it. Because it’s not just about the decorations or the preparation, the drinks or the snacks—though I’m sure the food and drink is the main reason most of you even bothered to show up,” he paused, grinning. “But it’s impossible to nurture a sense of community without all of you—the community. So thank you.” Another pause, and he pointed a wagging finger at Mitch in the second row. “And if nothing else, you can all go home knowing that you’ve put a shit-eating grin on that man’s face—which is apparently how I got suckered into opening tonight’s ceremonies. So while we’re at it, if any of you figure out how to say no to Mr. Douglas, please be sure to come by my office later and loop me in. Preferably before he asks me about doing this again next year.” 

A warm, light chuckle from the audience, and with a smile, Alex continued. “Now, as you’re all aware, I’m not Mitch. I have no poetic to weave you about the trials and tribulations we face on a daily basis and how they bring us together in strength and unity. But that isn’t to say what he has said, and what this night now represents is not of value. In fact, I very much believe it to be true. In times such as these, in the face of change and conflict and rebellion, now more than ever it’s important to remember how we got this far. How we have survived, and how we continue to survive. Because we have not done it through selfishness, or greed. We have not accomplished as much as we have by functioning only as every person for themselves. We have gotten this far through cooperation and support. Through contribution and sacrifice, comfort and strength. 

“I have been here next to three years now, and I have watched so many of you grow, and I am so proud of each and every one of you. What I think is too easy to forget in all of this, is that after what we’ve all faced, every day done is an accomplishment. Every day, we could choose to give up, to turn back, or throw in the towel. Rebuilding is hard. Starting over in the face of loss can feel impossible. So remember to take the time to recognize that.” He paused, threw a grin at the audience. “Well, look at that, I guess I did have some poetic to weave. Kindly blame Douglas for that too, would you?” 

As the audience laughed again, Alex straightened, his tone lightening. “Alright, I’m not going to tell you too much about the awards themselves—I’ll leave that to our lovely hosts, whom I’m very excited to call to the stage and not just because then I can get the hell out of here. But before I do that, I’ll remind you that after the ceremonies there is a reception down at Catch 22, where they’ll be serving food and drinks, and I believe I heard a rumour or two about dancing and karaoke. For which I plan on making myself very scarce. But nevertheless, have an excellent time tonight, happy holidays, and congratulations on wrapping up another fantastic year. 

“And now without further adieu—may I present your hosts for this evening: Orson Hurst, Elsa Copland and Mouse Quinley.” 

A/N: AND SO IT BEGINS!!!

Well folks... Welcome to the last event of 2018! It has not just been a good year at Colony 22, but a spectacular one. I feel like we too, (much like our characters in verse,) have special cause for celebration—not only do we have our fifth year anniversary coming up, but this year has gifted us so many excellent, long-term members joining the family and exciting new plots, characters and development. 

This event will punctuate the year with a bit of light hearted fun that we hope will lead nicely into an exciting 2019 at the Colony, which Lottie and I already have big plans for. We thank you all for being here, for your commitment, enthusiasm and love, and we hope you all stay with us here and continue to write and grow with us for a long time to come!

Now, most of the information you need about the Event Rules themselves I have already posted in detail and you can find here. Make sure you are familiar with them before starting, if you are new to events at the Colony. And if you’re not new, well, it never hurts to have a refresher!

A friendly reminder to send any questions you have about the event to the main blog ASK as we’d prefer to answer them publicly so the knowledge can be shared with everyone, as it’s likely that if you have a question, someone else may be wondering the same thing!

Remember too that this post marks the beginning of the first part of the evening: The Ceremonies only. You are welcome to RP anything that is leading up to the ceremonies, or during, but nothing past into the reception, until you see a post on the mod blog indicated the shift to the second part of the night, which won’t be until after (our real time) Christmas!

Over the next few days, you will see nomination and award reveals on the main blog, and as mentioned in the info post already posted (and linked above), you may continue old threads, or start new ones that are event related (self paras or graphics work too! Just remember that if you make any graphics in photoshop or anything send them to the graphics blog to be posted!) 

Keep in mind that activity will still be monitored over Christmas. I still expect you to meet activity, and I still expect you to contact the main if you need an extension before I have to go chasing you down. The holidays are stressful enough—please do not send me on a wild goose chase. That said, I obviously get it: Holidays can be stressful and busy! So just let us know if you need an extension or hiatus! 

I will do everything in my power to make sure all the awards are queued and posted promptly and when they’ve been promised—but if something comes up, things may shift a little here and there—nothing that should have too much of an effect though. The Reception will hopefully be triggered sometime between the 27th and 29th, depending on schedules. 

Alright, I believe thats all I got for now! But happy holidays everyone, and enjoy! The first awards post will likely roll out here in a few hours!

Much love, 

xxPapa!Mod

[axelsandwich]

FAQ

I’ve been getting quite a lot of similar questions on curiouscat recently so I figured I might as well put together a FAQ for new fans who have found my twitter.

If you are a new fan of FS, PLEASE go to @soyouwanttowatchfs! 

They provide livestream links for most FS competitions and GREAT intro guides on learning about skating basics, competitions, skaters and elements.

See In The Loop podcast’s website for a handy calendar of events with timezone conversions.

A great guide for resources for watching FS events live - this is for Milan 2018 in particular but most things are applicable generally to all competitions.

Rabbit army: some FS fans have begun hosting rabbit streams of FS related content and will post announcements on their twitter when they do. some key ones to follow:

@doubleflutz

@liliorum

@eternaldolphin

Other skating resources. Just combing through the asks of the above accounts and the ones below (you can usually click through the tags) will ‘flesh out’ your basic understanding of FS. Please note that all of the writers are biased to some degree, which is why it’s good to read multiple sources and draw your own conclusions.

Here’s a quick ‘n dirty rundown guide to FS scoring + intro to the field in memes (pre-Olympics field though)

Explainers of key singles skating FS elements with handy visual aides: http://the-real-xmonster.tumblr.com/post/169802732209/hello-new-fans

Jump guide with HIGHLIGHTED visual elements - http://chibura.tumblr.com/post/155092378025/breaking-down-6-basic-jumps

Glossary of common FS terminology: https://soyouwanttowatchfs.com/post/170312069530/figure-skating-abcs-glossary-of-common-terms

Guides to skaters current in the FS scene

http://soyouwanttowatchfs.tumblr.com/tagged/preview

http://iguana012.tumblr.com/post/166468292271/the-ladies-of-figure-skating-heading-into-the

http://iguana012.tumblr.com/post/166512345061/the-men-of-figure-skating-heading-into-the

Reblogged tag of SYWTWFS has good content from other creators: http://soyouwanttowatchfs.tumblr.com/tagged/reblogged

FS Ask answers a wide range of questions: http://figureskatingask.tumblr.com/

Chibura does some VERY detailed in-depth writeups/breakdowns for when you’re a little more advanced: http://chibura.tumblr.com/tagged/figure-skating-analysis

I couldn’t watch (insert broadcast) live! Where can I rewatch?

Was it broadcast on Japanese TV? Are you within 1wk or so of the broadcast date? 

FujiTV usually saves the broadcast for about a week for you to rewatch. Find the right channel + timeslot the show originally aired (most details should be published somewhere, just dig for it. If it’s Yuzuru, the FujiTV channel number and time will be on the front page of the viewing thread on Planet Hanyu)

Did it feature Yuzuru?  

Check the compilation threads on Planet Hanyu which usually upload links very soon after the broadcast and throw some thanks to Kaeryth for doing so much hard work

It’s not in the compilation thread

Ask and hope for the best in the Media Requests thread

Read through the Twitter timelines of fans who tend to retweet news on your particular skater and they may retweet a tweet containing an upload link

Check Youtube/Dailymotion - uploaders tend to be slower (unless for competition programs). If you can find the Japanese title, sometimes searching in Japanese on Youtube or DailyMotion will give you results (Dailymotion is favoured more by JP uploaders since they don’t take things down as often)

It doesn’t feature Yuzuru

Best to message ‘main’ fans of those other skaters or check forums such as GoldenSkate (low possibility but maybe)

Here’s a list of my personal recs for a couple of non-yuzuru-focused stans

YUZURU-SPECIFIC FAQs

what’s a yuzuru hanyu?

your historic two time olympic mens figure skating champion champion, also maybe some sort of highly addictive substance idk

where can I get yuzu news and updates?

planet hanyu has a news thread with all the most recent yuzu news

here’s a fanyu and fandom lingo-specific glossary

the calendar also records when shows will be broadcasted

tumblr blogs focused on yuzuru that I personally like to follow are: @tsukihoshi14, @the-real-xmonster, @jumpitwithashuulanditwithapa, @yuzusorbet, @wherespacepooh, @jardinaquatique​, @tadakixd

sportymags on wordpress has a bunch of really nice and helpful yuzuru blog entries

I also just love reading morozombie’s blog entries, he has this dry writing style that tickles my exact funny bone

you can also comb through most of the people I follow on Twitter

who is the old dude who’s always seen with yuzuru at competitions?

most likely kikuchi akira (the old Japanese guy who is Yuzu’s personal trainer): https://sportymags.wordpress.com/2016/07/23/yuzuru-hanyu-team-hanyu/

or ghislain briand, Yuzu’s jump coach at TCC: http://kaerb.tumblr.com/post/172441621579/hey-lae-im-sorry-to-bother-you-but-i-cant-find

are yuzuru and javier real friends?

what happened between yuzuru and denis ten at boston worlds 2016?

what happened to yuzuru at boston worlds 2016? 

he was hiding a lisfranc ligament injury which had gotten steadily worse all season

this also sums up how it felt to be a fan at the time in context

what happened to yuzuru at Cup of China?

These Aoi Honoo II chapters detail the situation in Yuzuru’s own words (be warned, it’s quite graphic in its descriptions): - https://yuzusorbet.tumblr.com/post/150270208657/my-sharing-from-aoi-hono-ii-warning-will-cause - https://yuzusorbet.tumblr.com/post/150343296547/continuation-of-scene-10-of-aoi-hono-ii-a-battle

why do some fans on twitter call yuzuru ‘zazura’ or otherwise butcher his name?

it’s a joke to make fun of the fact western commentators have frequently messed up his name in the past, ranging from ‘yuzura to yasunori’

where does this clip of yuzu come from? / where can I find a clip of yuzuru at [event]

do not ask me - I rarely save links

either post here or ask the person who uploaded the clip

All of yuzuru’s senior competition performances

Links to documentaries, shows and other media yuzu’s participated in

where can I find a copy of yuzuru’s autobiographies?

There are no official translations of his autobiographies Aoi Honoo 1 and 2 or Yume wo Ikiru (his newest ones) but generous fans have translated it (or parts) into English.  You can show proof of purchase for Aoi Honoo 1 and get the Eng translation here: http://yuzuru-hanyu-translations.weebly.com/aoi-honoo.html @tsukihoshi14​ has recently completed a translation of Aoi Honoo 2, you can show proof of purchase and get the translations now: http://tsukihoshi14.tumblr.com/post/171947689783/aoi-hono-ii-english-translations   @yuzusorbet​ has done partial translations of Aoi Honoo 2 here: https://yuzusorbet.tumblr.com/post/156152283157/aoi-hono-blue-flame-and-aoi-hono-2-are

where can I get yuzu merchandise in japan?

my favourite yuzu moments

my top 5 fave yuzu programs

what I think are some of yuzu’s best contributions to figure skating

what music I want yuzu to skate to next season

what costumes I want yuzu to wear next season

what made you love hanyu?

PERSONAL STUFF

what camera/lens do I use?

I shoot with a canon 5D mk 2. for travelling and figure skating photos I shoot with a 24-105mm f/4 and 40mm f/2.8

tips for learning japanese

how long does it take to achieve fluency in japanese?

advice for solo travel

photography tips

tips for starting a blog

how do you travel so often?  

C+P from another CC ask: I pay for it with my own savings. I've been working while studying since high school and also benefit from scholarships. I'm lucky to get some support from my family (they give me money on eg. my birthday/Chinese New Years that I save) and to live with them (since Sydney house prices are so ridiculous that it’s almost impossible to move out). sometimes I travel for work so expenses can be covered there. 

I definitely don't travel this often all the time. I set aside a significant portion of my savings to do so. My biggest motivation for doing this trip I’m currently on (Europe + USA 2018) was 1) being in Europe already which, relative to Australia, means travelling to all these countries is much cheaper than eg. 4 separate trips from Australia it probably would have taken to cover all those, 2) having a large amount of time that I won’t ever have again and 3) being lucky to have eg. Friends/family in some of the cities I’m doing which means free accommodation. They’re very specific circumstances that have made it possible for me

[the-little-prophet]

Red Light, Green Light || Dream Journal

Summary: While struggling to control his visions, Charlie’s recurring nightmare delivers a devastating twist  TW for descriptions of a car crash and injured bodies

The dream starts with a single red light, blinking.

The air clings muggy, like someone is breathing against the back of Charlie’s neck. He cannot place his body in space, not at first. Sometimes this is how the dreams start: Charlie, floating, like an angel above the rest. The light blinks. It blinks, waiting to change. It blinks, and then Charlie’s feet are on the ground and the smell of petrol thickens on Charlie’s tongue. He breathes fumes and remembers-- backwards.

Screeching tires. A scream.

His voice.

Running.

The light blinks.

The light blinks, time restarts, and he is chasing after someone, the world blurring on either side of him like smears of paint. His throat strains as he screams. Something cracks under his feet. Ahead glows light: one light, one red light. Then, blinking, it turns green.

The crash claps louder than thunder.  

Fast-forward: his trainers hit gravel road, kicking up chipped rock and dust. Smoke churns, a cloud of it. The car has veered off the road and nosedived into two trees. Its crushed, the hood folded around the trunks, as fragile as skin. Liquid gushes, splattering and soaking the soil. Something groans. Charlie thinks about his oldest patients, who fold themselves as small as they can, into crescent moons around themselves, and cry…

He jerks toward the smoking, crumbling car, but there is a body sprawled across the street only so many meters away.

The light blinks above the body. It burns green, and then: blink. In the snap of two fingers. In the tick of the hand of a clock. It burns red.

  “You have had recurring dreams before,” said Charlie’s therapist.

Tuesday, 14:00 on the dot, Charlie stumbled hollow-eyed into his psychologist’s office for his long-standing weekly check-up. He sat as he always did across from Janet, rubbing his palms compulsively every few minutes across his chicos. His therapist had his dream journal open across her lap where Charlie’s very careful scrawl has attempted to illustrate every single detail of his last night terror. Except it wasn’t just last night’s terror. It was the night before’s, and the night before’s, and the night before’s…

Since after Weirdmageddon, the car crash had slowly trickled in to replace his visions of pyramids, faceless mouths and toothy eyes. It was all he saw. Before Weirdmageddon, maybe he’d listen to his therapist. She didn’t know about Weirdmageddon though. He’d not written about Cipher. He’d destroyed his drawings.

“The dream keeps evolving,” Charlie repeated himself. He rubbed at his trousers again. “They don’t do that, not-- consistently.”

“You haven’t been rewriting the ending,” said Janet.

“It keeps changing.”

“Charlie. You have to do the exercises that we practice.”

“But it keeps changing. Like, it’s one of those crafts where you scratch away the black and there’s a picture underneath. I see more, every time, so if I just keep...”

“Charlie,” Janet said, much gentler.

Charlie rubbed his palms against his trousers again, thinking of the body tossed like a doll in the middle of the road. There hadn’t been a body before; there had only been the car.

“Charlie,” said Janet. “Forget for the moment that there are things you don’t know. Take the dream as it is now. Rewrite it for me-- let’s do it together. Tell me what you would do. You know the answer, it’s just like any dream with an earthquake or a fire or a tornado…”

Charlie thought of the body again. His rewritten ending, like every other rewritten ending, is already penned page-after-page through his journal.

“I’d save them,” said Charlie.

  The dream starts with a single red light, blinking.

The air rumbles with the muffled growl of motorcycle exhaust, too loud to hear anything else. When the car comes, it streaks like a bullet out of the black. The impact explodes like a bomb and Charlie flies through the air.

He sees stars, splattered like drops of blood across the purpled sky.

He watches the light, still red, until he cannot watch it anymore.

  The dream starts with a single red light, blinking.

Then music, everywhere. Bass-heavy, synth-infused music, blasting out of stereos. Red cups litter the ground, some stomped on and smashed in the middle--

(like the car crushed, curled around the tree, smoke coughed out of the broken hood)

Charlie tries to part the crowd. He searches the faces of strangers. He’s looking for someone--

(a body, starfished across the street.)

 Charlie’s father was sat where he always was on Wednesday evenings: in front of the TV, his dinner tray propped on the side table near his favourite, brown-cushioned recliner. He sat in that chair so often that Charlie had begun to think that the recliner and his father were growing together-- his father’s cushion of a stomach soft and expandable, his mousey mop of brown hair and beard the same colour as that fabric.

Charlie came into the front of the house quietly and heard the sportscasters from the doorframe as he took off his shoes and lined them up near the corner of the door, out of the way. He couldn’t understand anything the talking heads were saying, but it was June, which meant baseball season. His dad’s favourite season.

He tip-toed toward the living room, smelling dinner-- leftovers. Stir-fried rice and grilled chicken, which Charlie had prepped two days before for the both of them. Normally, he’d heat himself up a bowl and sit at the kitchen table, do a bit of studying while his father sat in the living room, watching TV. That was how they ate dinner on nights when Charlie was around for dinner. Separate rooms, little conversation.

“You home tonight?’ said Buck from his recliner, and he leaned around to look at Charlie.

“Er, yeah, I don’t have another shift till tomorrow,” he said. “After my TA class?”

“Oh. Oh yeah. Right,” grunted Buck. He looked back at the television.

Charlie lingered “Are the Angels playing…?” he asked.

“What? Er, no. Tomorrow. This is the Braves vs. the Toronto Blue Jays.”

Charlie stepped toward the living room, letting his bag fall down off his one shoulder. “Er, which one do we…”

“The Braves-- the Atlanta Braves.” His dad gestured toward the screen. Right, right, Canada was the hat America pissed in, an opinion his father insisted he had held long before his ex-wife had shacked up with a psychology professor and began teaching at the University of Toronto. “You wanna watch?”

“Uh...yeah,” said Charlie. But he was thinking of something else (thinking of a body, thinking of a tail of smoke, thinking of a car). “Though-- well-- I had a question. Um. About-- cars.”

Buck Little looked away from the television again, right at him. His thick brows jumped up his forehead. “Cars?” He grabbed the remote and paused it. “Cars? Like, drivin’ em? You finally want your license?”

“No, no, def--definitely not. I was just uh, wondering about um, looking under the hood of one sometime-- maybe? Like, learn about the--exhaust or the car...car hose thing and-- stuff.”

And Buck Little laughed, chokin’ up a chuckle that quickly turned into a one-off cough he dispelled into the side of his curled fist. Charlie felt his face go hot and red (Dad couldn’t tell in the dark like this, the only light the artificial glow from the television screen) but his father was smiling at him. And Charlie knew why. His father loved when his know-it-all, pre-med, straight-A son knew nothing at all.

“You have no idea what’s under the hood to begin with, do ya, kiddo?”

“Uh-- haha, yeah, nope,” said Charlie. “Yeah, I got absolutely no idea.”

“Well! This is recorded anyway,” grunted Buck. He put a hand against the arm of the chair to hoist himself up. He grunted a second time, but this one was wheezy, strained-- the sound of his dad in pain.

Charlie, surrounded by patients in all kinds of pain from all kinds of illnesses and sicknesses, who had only ever known his father as an injured man, could catalogue that exact noise.

It made him tense, his eyes darting down to their off-white carpet.

His father grunted again. He grabbed the cane propped by his recliner. He mumbled a curse or two under his breath (Charlie knew those too: Shit knee, his father went. Damn fuckin’ knee.) He limped a couple steps then got his momentum. “Well, you comin’, kiddo? Wanna bring one of those notepads of yours, so you don’t forget everything I say?”

“Oh! Yes, great-- great idea! Yeah, thanks, lemme just…” Charlie unzipped his bag and dug on through, looking for one of his notebooks and special Midliner pens.

His dad headed in a straight line, through the kitchen toward the garage. “Race ya!” he called back, and he laughed a little louder at himself as Charlie scurried after.

 The dream starts with a single red light, blinking.

Screeching tires. A scream.

The crash claps louder than thunder.  

Fast-forward: his trainers hit gravel road, kicking up chipped rock and dust. Smoke churns, a cloud of it-- white smoke, he realizes now, and he knows what that means. The car has veered off the road and nosedived into two trees. Its crushed, the hood folded around the trunks, as fragile as skin.

Engine coolant gushes from the radiator, splattering and soaking the soil. The radiator has been pulverized: punched in like one of those red plastic cups, cracked and now leaking.

Loss of coolant from a broken radiator leads to engine overheating and head gasket failure. Engine overheating and flammable fluids can lead to explosions. Explosions lead to fire. Death.

Charlie runs toward the car, not the body. Charlie is rewriting the ending.

Charlie’s trainers squelch into the ditch. He yanks the door open and reaches in, grabbing the body and easing them into his arms. Their weight landslides into him and his knees buckle. The smoke continues to billow around him as he inches back, dragging the body up, up, their heels dragging muddy lines through the grass then scraping across the road. The person in his arms is not anyone he recognizes, not even when he lays them out on the other side of the ditch, checks their airway, checks their pulse, checks their superficial wounds. He has seen such triages happen in the loud, crowded ER of his hospital, only a few miles away, and he speeds through the steps like a well-programmed robot.

The road is empty (where is this?) and the light is still red.

Charlie leaves his first patient, slipping on the ditch as he scrambles back onto the road, toward the second body in the street.

She has been tossed through the air. Hit, blunt-force trauma, by the front of the car before it careened into the tree. Her limbs splay unnaturally, her face turned up toward the sky. He runs toward her and has the steps of his next triage lined up in mental checkboxes. Airway, Breathing, Circulation. Its just ABCs and 123s. ABCs and 123s.

“Can you hear me? Ma’am, can you hear me, I’m going to chec--”

Charlie stops.

The light blinks red. 

Lit by moonlight, Alana’s hair looks almost purple and her skin a pale, unnatural white. She is bloodied and she is broken. She does not look like she is breathing. Eyes closed, she is peaceful--  like she is sleeping. Like she is dreaming.

But it is her. It is her, it is Alana Triton.

Charlie screams. He scrambles to her side, his fingers fumbling to find a pulse. “Alana, Alana, Alana,” he babbles, but Alana’s heart does not beat. “Alana, Alana, Alana, please!”

And then the car catches alight in the corner of his eye, and as the flames burst, the light blinks green.

[cornellbotanicgardens]

Climate warming is causing Mundy wildflowers to flower earlier

Shown above: Hepatica (H. acutiloba) and bloodroot (Sanguineria canadensis) grow in the Mundy Wildflower Garden.

Three decades of research in the Mundy Wildflower Garden shows some spring plants blooming as much as two weeks earlier today, with serious implications for delicate ecosystems

David Weinstein, Senior Research Associate, Cornell Department of Natural Resources

Since 1985, a dedicated group of volunteers has been recording the date of first flowering for all 503 plant species found in the Mundy Wildflower Garden. These records  detailed observations made each day of the growing season.  This special collection of continuous observation has been rarely duplicated elsewhere. The  data are now playing a major role in uncovering the effect climate change is already having on plants, and helping to unravel the mystery of why some plants are affected, while others are not.

David Weinstein, a researcher in the Department of Natural Resources at Cornell and a member of the Cornell Botanic Garden Advisory Council, has begun documenting how much warmer it is in the wildflower garden now, and identifying which plants are flowering much earlier than they had in previous years, because of the warming trend in climate.  

Since 1970, the average annual temperature at the official Cornell University weather station, located close by the wildflower garden, has increased 1.8°F. The number of growing-degree days (days with an average daily temperature above 40 degrees F) accumulated (starting January 1 each year) triggers spring plants to begin flowering.  In 2017, the number of growing degree days (GDD) on May 1 was nearly double what it had been historically by this date.  We have begun making weather measurements directly in the wildflower garden with the installation of a weather station in 2016.

Because of these climate changes, some early spring ephemeral plants in the wildflower garden, such as skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus), hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba), and bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), are flowering 10 days to 2 weeks earlier than they did 30 years ago. Twenty one percent of the plant species in the Mundy Wildflower Garden have had their day of first-flowering significantly changed over the last 15 years.  On average, for every increase of 17 growing degree days, the flowering of each plant species has been advancing one day.

Unfortunately, one of the plants that has moved its date of first flowering earlier in the year most consistently over the past 30 years is  the invasive garlic mustard.  This means that garlic mustard is increasingly able to gather essential resources needed for growth earlier and earlier compared with  other spring plants, making it ever more successful at invading those other plant’s territories.

The earlier flowering of some plants, such as common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) and black-eyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta), could potentially help specialized insects that depend of these plants, but whose populations have been declining, such as monarch butterflies and bumblebees. Unfortunately, there is some evidence that periods of activities of these insects is becoming disconnected from the timing of when the plants are flowering, a trend that could spell disaster for the ecosystems built on the synchrony of plants, insects, birds, and other animals.

We would not have any way of knowing this without the long-term dedicated efforts of the volunteer observers, data collectors, database compilers, and organizers over the last 30 years.  We especially thank Susanne Lorbeer (observer extraordinaire); Rosemarie Parker (magnificent database organizer); Donna Levy, who began this effort; Krissy Boys, through whose careful gardening  these plants thrive; and Betsy Dain.  These efforts demonstrate how citizen scientists, the professional gardening staff, and Cornell researchers can collaborate to use the Botanic Garden collections as a vital resource to help us understand what is happening to our world.

[tokupedia]

Kamen Rider 45th Anniversary File: Ghost

2016: 

The WORST YEAR IN RECENT RECORDED HUMAN HISTORY- The End

....

Okay, that’s a little unfair to you guys, let’s start over..

2016:

Ultraman Orb aired, concluded and is available on Crunchyroll.

Ultraman turns 50, having begun back in 1966.

Kamen Rider Amazons, a modern reimagining of the 1975 show Kamen Rider Amazon, premieres on Amazon Prime Japan two days before the date of Kamen Rider’s 45th Anniversary on April 1st. It is considered one of the darkest entries of the Kamen Rider franchise and is the first online exclusive Kamen Rider show.

The Magical Girl Genre, of which Sailor Moon, Cutie Honey, Pretty Cure and so many other super heroines are a part of, is now 50 years old thanks to Sally the Witch who was created way back in 1966 by Mitsuteru Yokoyama.

Go! Princess Pretty Cure ends and Mahou Girls PreCure! debuts.

Super Sentai reaches its 40th Season and 2,000th Episode with Doubutsu Sentai Zyuohger! Anthropomorphic Animal Rangers fight to defend the Earth, with the help of a human zoologist. Also, we get a new version of Super Sentai Hero Getter and the Gokaigers make a guest appearance!

Anno, get in the chair! Hideaki Anno of Neon Genesis Evangelion fame takes control of the Godzilla franchise as Toho decides to start making Godzilla movies and media again locally with Shin Godzilla. This creates an interesting cinematic paradox where both Japan and America are making Godzilla simultaneously and both are successful and will have follow ups in the future.

Garo gets animated in 2015 and comes to America for the first time in 2016 on DVD courtesy of Funimation. (Thanks guys!)

Garo also gets an omnibus series in Garo: Makai Retsuden, collecting tales of supporting characters in the Garo franchise rather than focus solely on the Golden Knight (though a few bearers of the armor do appear in a few bits including Kouga!).

Toei declares the anniversaries of Kamen Rider and Super Sentai to be a “Super Hero Year” and dedicates the year doing projects to celebrate the occasion, including bringing back Hiroshi Fujioka as Takeshi Hongo/Kamen Rider 1 in a crossover movie with a brand new look!

On April 3, 2016, a staple of Japanese pop culture turned 45 years old. Then again, 2016 was a red letter date for anniversaries as so many things we loved hit a milestone number.

Given that, Toei decided to set a theme of “History” and the “Wonders of being alive” for the next series. So they chose a dead guy for their next hero...wait what? The overall theme was famous figures from history (and one fictional one) giving their powers to the heroes. So think Kid Eternity meets Danny Phantom. 

Ghost did have interesting designs, courtesy of Kamen Rider and Ishinomori super-fan and manga artist Kazuhiko Shimamoto and his studio Big Bang Productions as well as Blend Master (though from what I could gather they got shafted when it came time for Mugen form). The Rider Ghosts all wear hoodie jackets and their method of transformation is a variation on Gaim where the “ghost parka” floats around the user before descending onto the armor.

Yes, but see, Ghost is the first series I kind of...stopped watching. It had promise and a likable hero, but fell flat in the last third as it meandered its plot around. As it turns out, we have our old “pal” Shinichiro Shirakura to thank for that, as he let go of the writers halfway into the show and had them replaced (Ep. 24 is where things started to change). You would think he would learn to leave well enough alone, but because Toei was running two Rider Shows at once, cuts apparently needed to be made. 

A noticeable cut was the dropping of motorcycle helmet manufacturer Shoei as a sponsor, as Toei went with its competitor Arai. This was a bit shocking given that Shoei has supported the series since the late Showa Era by providing safety equipment.

Also not helping was that Bandai kinda went nuts on the shilling of merchandise and didn’t give this series much room to breathe, making some of the forms or devices the Riders used feel tacked on or just filler after being seen just once. 

Still the show had its good moments, the messages about life, how an individual’s life impacts others and living it are inspiring. I have even heard whispers of some who thought of committing suicide saying that this series inspired them to keep on living and not give up. 

One especially touching story of the power of Takeru Tenkuji was written in the Asahi Shimbun about a sick toddler who was afraid to take his medicine. However, seeing Kamen Rider Ghost face danger head on and a special message from Shun Nishime inspired the adorable tyke to take his medicine. It showcases the kind of impact this “silly superhero show” as some deride it as has had on generations of Japanese citizens as a franchise. Being a super hero in acting sometimes rubs off and makes the person playing them aspire to live up to that symbol or be better people.

It should be noted that this series also has a few winks and nods to the Kamen Rider Series. The mailman who delivers packages is named Mr. Onodera (the birth name of Shotaro Ishinomori), a computer in the wall of the basement of Tenkuji Temple is a prop used for Shocker bases, a continuity nod to the preceding series is shown in a flashback and one company in the world of the series is the Sengoku Corporation.

But let’s move on...

LIFE! BURN BRIGHT!

DAI KAIGAN! FILE OMEGA DRIVE!

(The late Mr. Tenkuji, circa 2016)

Real Name: Takeru Tenkuji (I love Marvel Style alliterative names, so amusing.)

As the opening narration every episode informs viewers:

“My Name is Takeru Tenkuji, on my 18th birthday I was killed by a Gamma and I became Kamen Rider Ghost.” 

Takeru Tenkuji is the son of a famous Ghost Hunter, Ryu Tenkuji, and during one of his hunts, Ryu is killed by a ghost. This leaves Takeru an orphan and is taken in by a disciple of Ryu’s temple, the monk Onari (who has taken a vow of Ham instead of silence or singing). Takeru also grows up with Akari, his childhood friend, whom grows into more of a scientist with a skeptical view on ghosts.

Takeru is trained by Onari to be a Ghost Hunter and on his 18th birthday receives a strange package from Mr. Onodera, a gift from his late father that contained an eyeball-like orb. He has no time to investigate, as something invisible begins attacking them: The Gamma, evil spirits from another dimension.

Takeru manages to fend off these monsters for a bit to protect Akari and Onari, but the Katana Gamma slices Takeru up and he dies.

But death is not the end of our hero as a mysterious figure and a talkative snarky spook appear and the old man offers the boy a chance to live again. Sennin, as he calls himself, bestows Takeru with a belt like device and says he can return to life for 99 days as a ghost and regain his life permanently by finding the 15 Heroic Eyecons of famous people and can become a Kamen Rider to stop the Ganma from getting their hands on them. If Takeru fails, he dies for good.

He is sent back and defeats the Gammas,using his own soul as a source of power in an Eyecon for the Ghost Driver to become Kamen Rider Ghost. Yurusen tells him the rules of being a ghost and eventually lets Onari and Akari in on what is going on. They help him find the heroic Eyecons, with Onai setting up a paranormal investigation and elimination agency (No, not that one, though we do get Akari acting kinda Egon-ish at times.). Akari creates ghost-busting equipment to defeat the weaker grunts of the Gamma or hold them off until Takeru arrives, though she is still skeptical on the supernatural and believes that Ghosts can be explained scientifically . Together they fight the Gamma, collect the Eyecons, meet new allies and enemies! 

During one event, Kamen Rider Drive was in his final battle and had a near death experience. Somehow entering the realm of the dead, Ghost told Shinnosuke not to go into the afterlife (resembling a black void). Drive’s old foes come out of the void and Ghost fends their “ghosts” off (why do androids have ghosts? Meh, Comics.) while Shinnouske goes toward the light, which wakes him up. He later encounters Ghost again during a case and this directly ties into the series as it involves the Newton Eyecon (though canonicity is a bit wobbly).

Despite my “meh” attitude on the series now in its later end, looking back Takeru is the most likable Rider as he goes above and beyond what it means to be a hero, selflessly giving to save others even at the risk of his own soul when he himself has so much he could lose. He perfectly encapsulates what a Kamen Rider is at times.

Powers:

Like any classic ghost of standard media, Takeru can walk through walls, disappear and fly (well, more like floating and super agility until Mugen form). Takeru can also read a person’s soul/mind and see their memories by touching them or their soul if it is removed from the body. He also has a sorta “Rider Sense”, as he can sense some powerful evil spirits.  Since he is already dead (*insert Fist of the North Star Joke here*), Takeru cannot be severely harmed in any way and is near invulnerable, but not invincible. Spirit mediumship allows him to talk to ghosts.

Takeru can become solid like a human being if his emotional state is positive and he can create powerful barriers when he is in an emotional state where he does not want to be bothered by anyone.

Eyecon Powers:

Musashi: Skilled Swordsmanship

Edison: Electricity Generation/Absorption and elemental weapon augmentation. Enhanced thinking ability via electrical stimuli

Robin Hood: Expert Marksmanship, barrier shield, Energy Arrows, Cloning ability.

Issac Newton: Gravity manipulation pulses on a very powerful scale, as it can levitate heavy landmasses. Able to attract or repel objects and deliver powerful blows or immobilize targets.

Beethoven: Sound and music manipulation, literally as it creates constructs of music notes made of pure sound. Sonic blasts.

Billy the Kid: Expert Gun marksmanship, More Dakka, sniping abliity.

Benkei: Super strength, weapon mastery, energy constructs, concussive hit, localized seismic generation, Stop, Hammer Time!.

Toucon Boost: Kill it with Fire (generation powers)

Goemon: Super speed.

Ryoma: ???

Himiko: Magic abilities

Ikkyu: Levitating, able to summon stuffed Tigers from paintings to bite Gamma. 

Mugen: High defense, flight via rainbow wings and maximum attack power

He can utilize his emotions as weapons in Mugen form, feeling a specific emotion will allow him to execute a certain attack. 

Weaknesses:

Ghost still can die if time on his life extension runs out or his Ore Eyecon is destroyed as that contains his soul. 

Despite being immune to most damage, Takeru can still feel pain as spirit and the overwhelming sensation of intense pain could cause him to pass out. He also suffered from a bit of self-confidence issues at first but later improves. If the Heroic Spirits refuse to work with him, this could weaken him or render his powers in Grateful form unbalanced at best or to shut down at worst. The Eyecons can be swiped and used by other Ghost Drivers, even making the spirit inside the Eyecon act against their will in some cases. 

Ghost is also not immune to electricity in certain forms such as Musashi, as he becomes a walking lightning rod. Though Edison negates this due to its powers. If a mystical barrier is up, Takeru cannot phase though an object. 

His ability to talk to the dead is a bit problematic, as nobody but him can see them and as a result he looks beaucoup cuckoo to muggles as it looks like he’s talking to himself. (Though Akari comes up with a way for normal humans to see ghosts and whomever is mortal that holds a Ghost Eyecon can see them as well)

Now that he can use his powers as a living person, he can die again using any of the conventional means.

Gear:

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Driver

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Eyecons

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Gadgets

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Gan_Gun_Saber

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Newton_Damashii_Gloves

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Machine_Ghostriker

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Captain_Ghost

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Iguana_Ghostriker - Don’t ask me what Ghosts have to do with Iguanas, it is what it is.

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Eyecon_Driver_G

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Sunglasseslasher

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Deep_Slasher

Enemy:

The Gamma

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Gamma

The Gamma are a race extra-dimensional beings that are like ghosts. They have several objectives, one is to find Eyecons to grant themselves greater power. If they cannot find one, they try to create one by corrupting a human until they go mad and extract their soul to create an Eyecon. 

The last one is to turn the human world into another Gamma World so that a “Deathless utopia” can come...by killing the original world’s inhabitants or converting them into Gamma. Gamma are actually humans who wanted to escape death, but their plans didn’t work out.

[shervonfakhimi]

The 2019-20 Los Angeles Lakers Appreciation Post

Just the other day, as I hunkered down buried by blankets flipping through Bill Simmons’ ‘The Book of Basketball’ with the swipe of my finger on my Google tablet, it had me thinking about this NBA season that has been put on pause as if franchise mode from NBA 2K had come to life. He talked about ‘the secret’ to winning championships, a secret he learned from NBA legend Isiah Thomas. How the key to winning basketball games is not about basketball. How a team needs star players and to then be surrounded by players who not only fit those stars but accepted the roles designed for them. It was a quick and depressing reminder that this season’s Laker team had all of those ingredients, yet might not be able to have the opportunity to go hoist the golden Larry O’Brien trophy. And if they can’t, I wanted to take some time to thank and appreciate them for arguably the most fun Laker season I’ve ever experienced.

As last season’s team floundered from a chemistry perspective from paralyzing trade rumors, this year’s team seemingly made it their quest not to follow suit. Head honcho Rob Pelinka made it his mission to find veterans to fit the team this summer after acquiring Anthony Davis, and nailed it, adding the likes of Danny Green, Jared Dudley, Avery Bradley, Dwight Howard, and others to the mix. The team gelled instantly, despite dealing with plenty of turbulence from the start of the season with plenty more (sadly) coming along the way. Danny Green, a man who has been around the block plenty during his NBA career, said on Zach Lowe’s podcast that this year’s team has been the most fun he’s had off the court. Jared Dudley, another player who knows his way around the league, echoed similar sentiments. This team genuinely loved each other and played like it. It was infectious (maybe not the best word choice right now but hey it’s the best I got) and permeated all the way into my room whenever I’d watch the games. That wasn’t more evident than this play in January against the Detroit Pistons, where Alex Caruso gets a deflection, Kyle Kuzma recovers the loose ball then throws it back to Caruso for him to throw down another ruthless dunk. Yet, behind him, two future first-ballot Hall of Famers in LeBron James and Dwight Howard are flying right there with him to celebrate and bask in the joy with Caruso. It’s my favorite play of the entire season. It perfectly captured the fun and joy this team has playing together.

Yet, as fun as this team was to watch, they were just as good as they were fun. They were just beginning to peak as a team. Every night it seemed someone not named LeBron James or Anthony Davis (more on them in a second) would step up. After coming back from injury, Avery Bradley added offense, like his 24 point performance against the Clippers where he gave Patrick Beverley a taste of his own medicine, to his crippling on-ball defense, shooting 41.8% on catch-and-shoot threes since January first. Danny Green always brought his defense. While his jumper waxed and waned, it didn’t stop him from hitting big shots like this against Dallas in November. Dwight Howard went from un-signed in August to dominating MVP candidate Nikola Jokic in his own building and giving the Lakers numerous sparks like that off the bench. Alex Caruso was both an analytics darling and fan favorite, routinely giving the Lakers a boost off the bench as he did in that same game against the Nuggets that was highlighted when talking about Dwight. JaVale McGee was playing the best defense of his Lakers career that’s been 1.5 seasons long now. Though Rajon Rondo and Kyle Kuzma were enigmatic this season, they both showed out for some big performances, against Oklahoma City (without James, Davis, and Green) and at home against Boston.

And then there are the stars. Let’s start with Anthony Davis, who was absolutely sensational. He literally made greatness look routine. Some games, like his 40-20 masterpiece against the Memphis Grizzlies or dropping 41 points and 9 rebounds in his return to New Orleans, felt louder than others, but he was just as impactful regardless. His chemistry with LeBron was palpable and frightening from the beginning and seemed to get even more devastating as the season progressed. Perhaps, even more, frightening: since January 1st, Anthony Davis shot 40.5% from three on 3.3 attempts per game. Not only was he more comfortable taking those shots, but he was unafraid to fly in clutch moments, hitting some big shots from three to either seal games or keep the Lakers in it. Maybe it was confidence, maybe it was getting over the shoulder injury that nagged AD the first half of the year off a missed dunk against Charlotte, but regardless, he was already a devastating scorer without the three-ball, and he was just beginning to add that to his repertoire. And adding that would’ve meant Davis could exploit his abnormal handle to go with his extra-terrestrial frame and athleticism as he did here against Al Horford. Davis has never shot above 34% from three for a season in his career. The thought of Davis as a lethal weapon from all three levels of the floor is… yeah, absolutely terrifying.

We haven’t even begun to talk about AD’s defense. He added Defensive Player of the Year caliber defense to a hefty offensive stat line. It didn’t matter who Davis guarded. Have him run around defending guards or banging against bigs, he’d shut them down. When LeBron and Anthony Davis shared the floor without Rajon Rondo or another big man, the Lakers boasted a robust 17.6 Net Rating, per NBA.com, including a staggering defensive rating of 92.1 points per 100 possessions. For context, the Milwaukee Bucks’ league-best defensive rating was 101.6. The Lakers’ defense, when it wasn’t weighed down by inconsistent bench play, turned absolutely dominant because of Davis’ dexterity to cover any hole presented to him. On top of that, not only would Davis routinely stifle possessions but he’d bring the ball up and just do the damn thing by himself to generate easy offense for the Lakers. While the Lakers had a negative net rating with Davis on the floor this season, they were beginning to turn it around once he played without James on the floor with him. Over the course of the season, the Lakers had a -3.2 Net Rating without James while Davis was on the floor, but had a +6.6 Net Rating in 169 minutes from February 1st on in that exact scenario. It wasn’t always pretty but it did the job in big games late in the season, and Davis was the biggest reason why. Davis’ future regarding another contract has suddenly become a little cloudy as to when and how that extension will come because of the financial impact this hiatus will have on the league, but this season proved Davis was worth all the trouble to acquire him and will be worth every penny he gets in the future. He was undoubtedly dominant.

Davis was dominant, yet he still wasn’t even the best player on the team. That honor would belong to the King. Obviously, as a Lakers fan, I’d love nothing more than to win a championship and for LeBron to win MVP, but that award is likely Giannis’ to lose. However, had the season not been postponed, there was an avenue for LeBron to swipe the MVP from the Greek Freak’s clutches after the roll LeBron went on after the All-Star break. He began that spree with a 32 point, seven assist win against the Grizzlies, a near triple-double against the Celtics and this game-winning Kobe-esque fadeaway post jumper over Jaylen Brown, sonning Zion Williamson’s New Orleans Pelicans not once but twice, outplaying Giannis Antetokounmpo and accepting the challenge of guarding him to the tune of a 37-8-8 masterpiece and win over the first place Bucks, and ending the streak with this Klutch And-1 bucket to beat the Clippers. Had the Lakers managed to swipe the best record in the NBA from the Bucks (they were only three games behind the Bucks with Giannis on track to miss 1-2 weeks. I’m not going to use this space to make an MVP argument, but one could certainly have been made for LeBron had he maintained that pace. LeBron led the league in assists. He showed up defensively. A good portion of the team’s chemistry could be attributed to James and his leadership, both on and off the floor. He showed again he’s the best player in the NBA (in my opinion).

Everything that championship teams need, this year’s Lakers team showed time and time again that they have it. Whether this season was the best chance the Lakers had at winning a title with this group is debatable, but the window was there. Those windows are so precious in the NBA and could go in the blink of an eye. Yet, due to extremely unfortunate circumstances, that window this season may get shut for nothing that has to do with basketball. That is nowhere near the top of the list of priorities to deal with right now as a society, but the uncertainty regarding the immediate future of the NBA and its potential champion is really disappointing as a fan. I hope a cure can be cultivated soon to not only save the numerous that are sick right now but get our beloved NBA back up and running. If it can come back, then great. But if it doesn’t, I thought it’d be prudent to show some love and appreciation to the most fun Laker team since the 2010 Championship team, because they deserve it for spreading their love and joy to the millions of Lakers fans across the globe, myself included.

P.S.: I hope everyone is safe and well during this tumultuous time. We’ll get through it. But in the meantime: STAY THE FUCK AT HOME!

Ok, Take Care!

[mastcomm]

Thailand, Coronavirus, Trump: Your Monday Briefing

Coronavirus deaths exceed toll from SARS

The death toll in China has risen to more than 800, surpassing the 774 deaths in the SARS epidemic of 2002-3. Here are live updates.

The number of new cases appears to have stabilized, but a senior official of the World Health Organization said, “It’s very, very early to make any predictions.”

A study of early cases in Wuhan, the city at the center of the outbreak, suggests a single patient spread the virus far and wide in a hospital.

Blowback in China: The authoritarian system President Xi Jinping built around himself is being tested. Though he has retreated from view, it may be difficult for him to escape blame. “What kind of government is this?” asks a family of three generations sickened by the virus and desperate for care in Wuhan. The city’s natives are being ostracized across China.

In Japan: More than 2,000 passengers are confined to their cabins on the docked Diamond Princess, fearful quarantine is putting them at greater risk.

Rare mass shooting shocks Thailand

A Thai soldier killed at least 29 people and injured dozens in a 18-hour shooting rampage at a military base and a shopping mall in the city of Korat, north of Bangkok, officials said. It was the country’s deadliest mass shooting.

How it unfolded: Thailand’s prime minister said a real estate dispute sparked the rampage. On Saturday, the soldier, Sgt. Jakkrapanth Thomma, 32, shot and killed a woman known for selling real estate to military officers, along with her son-in-law, who was a superior officer from the sergeant’s command.

The gunman posted an angry message on Facebook: “Nobody can escape death. Rich from cheating and taking advantage of people … Do they think they can take money to spend in hell?”

Then he went to a military base, killed another victim and stole an arsenal of weapons, which he took to the crowded Terminal 21 shopping center on Saturday afternoon, trapping many people inside for hours. A first police raid failed, and he was killed Sunday morning.

Watch: We compiled a brief video with images from the mall.

Sunday night vigil: Hundreds of people gathered near the mall, many writing tributes to the dead. “The society nowadays has turned into this?” said a 53-year-old university lecturer. “It’s devastating. My heart can’t handle it.”

What’s next: The country faces deeper questions about what happened, the government’s response and the underlying forces that led a young man to kill so many people randomly.

Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman, who served on the National Security Council, was marched out of the White House by security officers, along with his twin brother, Lt. Col. Yevgeny Vindman, on Friday. Within hours, against the advice of a handful of Republican senators, Mr. Trump also dismissed Gordon Sondland, the ambassador to the European Union.

The firings may presage a broader effort to even accounts with the president’s perceived enemies.

Political focus: Mr. Trump’s re-election campaign is focusing on improving his image among suburban voters and others who are uneasy about his politics and behavior. Some areas are already rallying around him.

Another political force: A community of right-wing conspiracy theorists called QAnon has reached from internet obscurity into political campaigns and beyond.

If you have some time, this is worth it

A battle for the future of the Nile

Ethiopia is staking its hopes on its $4.5 billion hydroelectric dam. Egypt fears the dam will cut into its water supplies. President Trump is mediating.

Egypt has controlled the Nile for thousands of years, but that could be coming to an end. Our reporting team explores the conflict in videos, maps, photos and interviews — including one with an Egyptian farmer facing catastrophe: “Our livelihood is being destroyed, God help us.”

Here’s what else is happening

Antarctica: The continent reached a record high on Thursday when a research station reported a temperature of 64.9 degrees Fahrenheit, or 18.2 degrees Celsius. Climate experts see the rare heat as an effect of global warming.

Venezuela: Faced with a severe economic crisis, the country’s leader, Nicolás Maduro, is ceding daily control of many oil fields to foreign firms, as the once proud state oil company shrivels.

Soccer: A group of former executives from the governing body for soccer in Africa have accused the Cairo-based organization of financial wrongdoing, and now an audit paints an ugly picture of millions of dollars in expenditures.

Snapshot: Above, a Nenets woman with a tray of stroganina in December. Fishermen and reindeer herders in northern Siberia have long snacked on raw, frozen fish and meat.

Australia Fare: The d’Arenberg Cube in McLaren Vale, South Australia, is a zany, adult fun house whose designer wants its restaurant to be the best in the world. Sometimes, maybe it is.

What we’re reading: This essay in Essence, addressing the attacks on the broadcast journalist Gayle King after she raised the question of an old, dropped rape accusation against Kobe Bryant in the wake of his death. “The term misogynoir — the special type of hatred directed against women of color — says it all,” says the briefings editor, Andrea Kannapell.

Now, a break from the news

Cook: Italian pasta and chickpea stew cooks in just one pan, and can be vegan by leaving off, or subbing, the final dusting of pecorino.

Read: “Saltwater,” a novel about a young Englishwoman questioning her place in the world, is among 10 new books we recommend.

Watch: The final season of Showtime’s “Homeland” has begun. Two of its stars, Claire Danes and Mandy Patinkin, spoke to The Times about how the espionage drama has evolved.

Smarter Living: Want to improve your sleep? Our Wirecutter colleagues present hacks, tips and products that actually help in their “Five Days to Better Sleep” Challenge. (Sign up here).

And now for the Back Story on …

Revisiting ‘The Year of Africa’

Seventeen African countries shed their colonial status in 1960. Sixty years later, our archival storytelling team, Past Tense, paired photography from collections at The Times and elsewhere with writers and thinkers of African descent for a special section, “A Continent Remade.” Veronica Chambers, the editor of Past Tense, spoke with Adriana Balsamo about the project. Here are a few lightly edited excerpts from their conversation.

Can you speak to the decision to have more youthful writers be a part of the project?

We really wanted a certain dynamism to the conversation. And we thought that it would be interesting to ask youngish people who are really connected to the continent … and who have a sense of pride about it. David Adjaye, for example, spent years cataloging the architecture of Africa in a way that had never been done before. But he grew up half his life off the continent.

There’s always a period of discovery for someone who has a foot in a country, but didn’t necessarily grow up there. And especially because the countries are so young, it felt like it’d be interesting to ask these young people who in some ways really benefited from all of the good of independence — their lives were shaped by everything that came after — to look at the pictures and respond.

What is your favorite photo?

I think the mother and baby picture [with Imbolo Mbue’s essay] and the Miss Independence picture [with Luvvie Ajayi’s essay] were really important to me because those were the two I found first, in October 2018. I held onto those two pictures as a kind of proof of concept. I also love the picture at the United Nations by Sam Falk [with Mr. Adjaye’s essay]. He’s so special to the history of The Times and just to know what it must have meant for those men to be able to go and represent new nations. To say, “Our country is three months old and here we are. Let’s talk about how we fit into the rest of the world.” I think that’s pretty powerful.

What do you hope readers take away from the section?

We are really hoping that people on the continent will read the digital version, and we’ve worked really hard on the interactive. When you look at the news photographs, it was a time when very few New York Times readers would have been to the continent. And so when we look at where we are at 60 years later, there’s still a lot of people who have never been and may never go.

And I hope what readers will take from it is a sense of possibility on the continent that I believe continues to this day. A sense of beauty, a sense of community. And I hope, interest: I hope they will continue to read some of the writers we featured.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Penn

Thank you To Mark Josephson and Eleanor Stanford for the break from the news. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is the trial of Harvey Weinstein. • Here’s our Mini Crossword, and a clue: Look forward to (four letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • The New York Times Company now has more than five million subscriptions, including 3.5 million that are digital-only. Thank you!

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Gio Urshela Keeps Doing All the Little Things for the Yankees

Just before the first half of the Yankees’ season ended last weekend, Manager Aaron Boone was asked which player had surprised him the most. Twice he pointed to Gio Urshela, the defensive-minded third baseman the Yankees re-signed to a minor league deal in the winter to serve as an insurance policy for the infield.

Now in the second half, that policy is still paying dividends. While Masahiro Tanaka provided his usually steady pitching on the mound on Sunday, Urshela did a little of everything else.

“We wouldn’t be in first place without him,” Yankees right fielder Aaron Judge said.

In the Yankees’ 4-2 win over the Toronto Blue Jays, Urshela showed once again that the changes he made to his hitting are not a fluke. He drove in the first two runs of the game with a single off Blue Jays starter Marcus Stroman, an All-Star, in the second inning.

Later, Urshela flashed his trademark vacuum cleaner defense with a slick backhanded stop and throw to rob Lourdes Gurriel Jr. of a hit in the fifth inning. But perhaps Urshela’s most impressive offering of the day was the nifty body-twisting slide in the same frame that took advantage of a wild pitch by Stroman and a slow tag by catcher Danny Jansen. The heads-up play gave the Yankees the lead.

“It hurt me watching it,” Boone said. “It was a very athletic play by him and obviously a very big play at the time.”

The Yankees (59-32) have the best record in the American League and a healthy cushion in their division for many reasons. Urshela, who began the year in Class AAA, was perhaps the unlikeliest entering this season. He has since become a constant, making the season-ending shoulder injury to the standout third baseman Miguel Andujar a distant memory.

“More of what we’ve seen from him all year,” Boone said of Urshela, adding later, “He’s been an impact player for us on both sides of the ball.”

While Urshela keyed the offense and defense, Tanaka, an All-Star, paved the way on the mound. He allowed two runs over six innings on Sunday. While his standout pitch, the split-finger fastball, has eluded him much of the season, Tanaka has been the Yankees’ most reliable pitcher — a 3.81 E.R.A. over a team-high 111 innings — thanks to secondary pitches and guile.

Still, the inconsistencies of the entire Yankees rotation, which ranks slightly above average in E.R.A. but below in innings, have prompted the team’s top decision makers to explore upgrades ahead of the July 31 trade deadline. One potential target, Stroman on the rebuilding Blue Jays, showed why he may be a hot commodity in the coming weeks.

Stroman, a Long Island native who is under team control through the 2020 season, struck out seven and allowed three runs over six innings, raising his E.R.A. to 3.25. While acknowledging that he loved Toronto, Stroman hinted at the allure of home, telling reporters last month, “I’m a New York boy.”

Even though he knows that General Manager Brian Cashman is looking for pitching, Boone has said he believed that the Yankees were already capable of being “the best team in the world.” It has helped the pitching staff that the offense has been among the best in baseball, averaging 5.6 runs a game. And since a rough June, the rotation has pitched better.

“I feel like it’s been underrated all year and a little underappreciated,” Boone said.

Some minor good news arrived before Sunday’s game: Boone said Luis Severino and Dellin Betances — two key pitchers recovering from latissimus dorsi muscle strains sustained while returning from shoulder injuries — had been cleared by doctors to begin throwing programs on Monday after having undergone new magnetic resonance imaging examinations.

While both pitchers are still many weeks away, the news offered a small step toward their anticipated returns. Betances may be back sooner than Severino because he is a relief pitcher. Cashman said in a recent radio interview that Severino was expected to need at least six weeks before a return and that he could be an option in the bullpen if the Yankees run out of time to build up his workload.

“I haven’t begun to put a timeline on what it’s going to take to have him built up to being a starter for us or any kind of option for us,” Boone said on Sunday.

Whatever the composition of the pitching staff, the Yankees will still likely be defined by the depth of their position players.

After shortstop Didi Gregorius returned last month from his elbow surgery, Urshela’s playing time has seen a slight drop. Boone has rotated the surplus of infielders through the lineup and given more regular days off to keep them fresh. Urshela’s batting average has slipped from .360 in early May to .302 after Sunday’s game, but he has still made an impact.

When Stroman threw a low sinker, Urshela smacked it into left field for a two-run single. When Gurriel ripped a ball down the third-base line, Urshela dived to his right, snared the skipping ball and threw a strike across the diamond. When Stroman threw a pitch wide of Jansen, Urshela gambled by racing home.

But halfway there, Urshela realized Jansen was going to beat him to the plate because the ball had ricocheted back. Jansen made the mistake of reaching for Urshela’s body, giving Urshela the chance to contort away from Jansen and reach for the plate with an outstretched left leg. He was originally ruled out, but the call was overturned following a replay challenge by the Yankees.

“I needed to find some way to be safe,” Urshela said. Added Judge, “I haven’t seen anything like that in a while.”

After the game, Judge commended outfielder Mike Tauchman’s diving catch in the sixth inning that robbed Cavan Biggio of a hit. (Tauchman hit a solo home run an inning later that gave the Yankees a 4-2 cushion.) Judge also praised Urshela for his contributions all season long.

“It means I’m doing good stuff for the team,” Urshela said. “And I’m always trying to do that every day.”

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