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jughead-is-canonically-aroace · 5 years

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The Man Who Was Too Awkward To Mention He Had Amnesia

i wrote this for @spookyson-zine! the art is by @katanacupcake-art

summary: yknow that one john mulaney bit where he’s like “if i had amnesia no one would ever know because when someone you don’t recognize acts like they know you you pretend you know them and pray you remember”? like that

pairing: moxiety

wordcount: 3952

disclaimer: this is a rom-com. it is not attempting to be an accurate portrayal of amnesia or post-coma recovery or medical practice. creative liberties have been taken.

Virgil, upon awakening, knew approximately three things: his name, the fact that he was horizontal, and that there were at least two people in the room with him. He could tell that last bit from the loud sobbing and comforting noises coming from his right.

“It’s not your fault, Patton. He’ll wake up soon, and he’ll tell you.”

Virgil opened his eyes. He was in a rather brightly white room. To his left, a soft, roundish man in a blue sweater covered in puppies and kittens sat in a folding chair, crying into a handkerchief. A man in truly ridiculous amount of glittery gold eyeshadow and a violently red sweater had his arms wrapped around the other in comfort, whilst a man in a dress shirt and tie sat primly and somberly in a third chair near his feet.

This was all he registered before the three noticed his open eyes and the soft one (Patton?) launched himself forwards with a cry of relief.

Smothered in hugs and with a warm, fond feeling filling him as he hugged back and a kiss was pressed to his hair, Virgil thought, I love him. And then: This must be my boyfriend.

—

Virgil was discharged from the hospital within the hour* and was quickly piled into the backseat of a bright red convertible with Patton. Business Casual watched him over his shoulder from the passenger seat as Glitter Eyeshadow (I really need to figure out their names) started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, but as they turned onto the freeway he turned back forwards, apparently satisfied with what he had (or hadn’t) seen.

“Roman, would you please put the top up?”

“Do you not enjoy the feeling of the wind in your hair? The sensation of speed? The taste of adventure??”

“No.”

Roman put the top up, and Virgil noted his name with relief. Two down, one to go.

As Virgil settled against the window, staring out at the swiftly passing shrubbery and rough-cut rock lining the road, he recalled what the doctor had told him**.

“You were hit by an ATV at an intersection where you had right of way. All your medical bills have been handled by the other driver. You, miraculously, received only minor-to-moderate abrasions and contusions, aside from a rather nasty head wound, and appear to have no lasting effects.” The doctor smiled down at Virgil, and he briefly attempted to say “Actually, I do have one extremely present lasting effect,” but the doctor breezed onward without giving him a chance. “You were extremely lucky, Mr. Sanders.”

Ten minutes later, they were pulling into the driveway of a suburban 4-bedroom house.

—

[ID: 3 panel comic, panels stacked. virgil is upstairs, anxiously looking at different bedroom doors and trying to figure out which one is his, saying “Huh…” He’s wearing a black hoodie and the background is purple. A fly flies past behind his head.

The first door has a banner that reads “PRINCE”, a crown, and sparkles. it is captioned “No”. the second is a blank door. it is captioned “Maybe.” the third is covered in flowers and hearts, and has a unicorn on it. it is captioned “No!”. the fourth is also blank. it is captioned “...Maybe?”

Virgil closes his eyes, looking nervy yet determined. he is thinking “Well... There’s only one thing left to do...”

end ID]

[ID: 3 panel comic, panels stacked. virgil is in the living room, sitting on the couch and waiting for a clue for which room is his. He looks very anxious, thinking “This is fine.” there are sweat/nerves emotes around his head and he is blushing. there is a houseplant on a stand to the left and a red lamp on a side table to the right. the background is purple.

There’s a closeup on virgil’s face in profile. he is thinking “All I have to do is wait until four-eyes picks one of our less obvious rooms.” he is on the right and facing left, and there is a stylized drawing of logan’s face with angry eyebrows and a frown on the left. the background is a black-white gradient fading into the middle, with black emphasis lines pointing into the middle.

Patton suddenly appears beside virgil and says “HEY!!”, startling him. a zig of surprise emote and the word “zoinks!” are beside virgil’s head, and his eyes are boggling. patton’s face is stylized like a cat emote, with a 3 mouth and greater/less than signs for eyes. patton is wearing a blue shirt with a red cardigan tied around his shoulders. patton’s speech is in white bubble letters, and emphasized with many exclamation marks and a tilde. the background is purple.

end ID]

[ID: 5 panel comic, with panels 1, 4, and 5 stacked, and panels 2 and 3 stacked next to panel 1. Virgil flops over sideways onto patton’s lap. patton is sitting on the couch and virgil is curled stiffly on his side. they are stylized. the background is white.

A stylized icon of patton’s surprised face is looking down, with a loading bar next to his head, and a pink circle behind him. the background is white. Below that, the same stylized icon of patton’s face is happy and smiling, surrounded by yellow flowers and delight emotes. it is captioned “cuddle time!”

Next is a shot of virgil’s face where he is lying down. he is thinking “Wow this guy definitely is my boyfriend...” he is blushing, and looking to the left. there are white hearts around him and the background is navy blue.

A view from behind the couch over logan’s shoulder shows the stylized back of patton’s head surrounded by delight emotes and yellow flowers. logan’s face is in the right of the panel, looking suspiciously at the camera. it is captioned “suspicious A F” with a curly arrow pointing at logan.

end ID]

—

Later…

Virgil followed Patton up the stairs. They stopped in front of one of the blank doors. Please please please let this be my room and this not just be Patton stopping in front of the upstairs bathroom door or in front of Business Casual’s door for some reason or maybe I completely misjudged him and this is HIS room- “Well,” said Patton, “Goodnight! Sleep well!” With a final hug, he turned and crossed the hall back to the sticker-encrusted door, stepping inside, and Virgil nodded with a quiet “You too.”

Virgil tried to convince himself to try the door, but the imminent fear that Business Casual would appear, find him breaking into his room, and immediately unearth him as an amnesiac imposter and no longer the friend they knew and loved and kick him out on the street with only the clothes on his back and he’d have to resort to dealing drugs at Denny’s-

Business Casual, dressed in actual pajamas patterned with actual erlenmeyer flasks and test tubes of bright liquids, stepped out of the bathroom at the end of the hall and walked past him to the other blank door, opening it. He paused, and turned back. “Virgil, are you alright?”

“Yes! Fine!” Virgil jolted into motion and opened the door before him, stepping inside and turning to close it quickly. He caught a glimpse of Actual Chemistry Pajamas’ face, confused, mildly concerned, and contemplative, as he closed the door.

Virgil turned to look at his room.

Posters for The Nightmare Before Christmas and Welcome to Night Vale hung on one wall, while album covers for My Chemical Romance, Gorillaz, and a myriad of other bands covered another. An easel with a black canvas stood in a corner next to a bucket of oil paints, surrounded by a drop cloth. Next to it, a desk cluttered with notebooks, colored pencils, pastels, watercolors, and other art supplies. A paint-splattered pair of white jeans and large t-shirt was tossed over the back of the chair. Filling the remaining wall was a large bookshelf. Miscellaneous clutter formed a patchy layer over his floor, and a laundry bin half-full of clean clothes sat beside a pile of dirty clothes by his dresser.

Virgil’s eyes pricked with exhaustion, and he delegated all… that to tomorrow. He carefully stepped over to his bed, and sat down.

Reaching over to his nightstand, he picked his phone up and unlocked it.

Wait.

Virgil quickly popped into settings and removed the password, then set about searching the rest of his phone for clues.

Contacts had only “Puff🐶💙💜” (Patton, who is definitely my boyfriend), “Moi✨💄🌟” (Roman.), “Nerd🍇🤖🌡” (@god why. Please I just need to know his name), some tech support numbers, and “Manager”. He had Temple Run and Subway Surfer and Geometry Dash, but not much else. He had the Tumblr app, but it crashed as soon as he opened it. Finally, he checked Notes.

I don’t know why I didn’t start here. The Notes app was a jackpot. His social security number, directions to an unknown location, the address of a cafe in Rochester, his computer password (!), and “hamlo”, whatever that was.

Searching through the rest of the notes yielded slightly less lucrative results - numerous notes with random thoughts apparently written whilst trying to fall asleep (“dog pants?” “burger pant’s son, burger shorts. jr pants. shorts = young pants?” “Dumbell/Sawdust” “rubix cubes physically manifesting in your home” “burger pusher/at least im not a burger pusher. im a coffee pusher. im a cat?”), a note with translated roman numerals, and a note that simply read “modo g^5 plus”.

Virgil shrugged, called it a success, and went to get ready for bed.

—

Roman has an arm on Virgil’s chest, preventing him from grabbing his (“Be careful! That’s new!”) phone back as he quickly changes the contact names, adding several emojis to each. Business Casual leans over the back of the couch to read the screen.

“Why am I a thermometer?”

“It’s the closest thing I could find to a test tube.” Roman looked dramatically into the distance. “Sometimes, we have to make do with what we have.”

Virgil, upon return of his phone, reddens at the blue and purple heart emojis Roman put in Patton’s contact name. But he also doesn’t change them.

—

Virgil woke up the next morning at 6:58. He lay in bed for several minutes, blinking sleepily at the ceiling, before he registered the smell of pancakes drifting under the door.

Downstairs, he found Patton putting on his coat, shoving folders into a backpack, and eating the last few bites of his breakfast while glancing frantically at the clock. “Morning Virgil! You’re up early! Can you put this in the sink?” Virgil took the sticky plate as Patton slung the backpack over his shoulder, wriggled into his other sleeve, and darted out of the kitchen. “Bye Virge! Love you!” The door slammed.

“Bye,” he replied to the empty room. He put the plate down.

Investigating the cupboards, he eventually found a plate and fork, and pulled a few pancakes off the cooling rack in the middle of the table. Chewing slowly, he listened to the birds chirping out the window and the sound of someone jogging by.

Jogging up the steps.

Roman swung sweatily into the kitchen in running shorts and a tank top emblazoned with a logo of a yellow “watch out for children”-style road sign with two people running across a stage. He breezed over to the cabinets without noticing Virgil’s presence, dancing a bit to the pop music faintly drifting from his headphones, and humming a few notes. He turned to the table and startled violently.

“Virgil! You’re up early.” He quickly pulled his headphones off.

“Haha, yeah, I mean,” Virgil frantically dug for an excuse. “I have just been asleep for a month.”

Roman laughed, settling into a chair. He forked five pancakes onto his plate and splashed fruit sauce onto them before diving in. Virgil quietly finished his breakfast to the tinny tune of Lady Gaga’s Boys Boys Boys still drifting from Roman’s headphones.

“Hey, so, um, what’s the situation with like, work?” Virgil prayed he had been fired. He could not handle having to do this with his coworkers, too.

Roman looked awkwardly to the side. “I’m sorry, dude. They said they couldn’t keep you on past three weeks. So.”

Virgil nodded, trying not to let the relief show on his face. “That’s valid.”

Roman barked out a short, surprised laugh. “I saw a hiring sign at Starbies this morning though, you could try there.”

Virgil nodded again, and they lapsed into silence. Roman turned off his playlist.

Later, Roman tugs the last of the pancakes onto another plate and sticks them in the microwave, muttering something about how “pocket calculator probably pulled another all-nighter”. Virgil treks back up to his room to look up which Starbucks is near enough to be the one Roman was talking about, and Roman disappears into the bathroom to take a shower. 15 minutes later, Business Casual runs past his open door trailing a tie and a partially-unzipped backpack, and soon after the door slams once more.

—

Virgil walked the 4 short blocks to the hiring Starbucks, bought a coffee, and completed & turned in his application within half an hour. He got a call a week later, sweated and bullshitted his way through the interview, and miraculously got hired anyway. He was scheduled for 5-hour timeslots at various times Monday-Saturday. Thus, the following Sunday, neither Patton nor Virgil had any work they needed to rush off to.

The two had almost absentmindedly migrated from breakfast to the dishes, and they quietly coexisted while Patton washed and Virgil dried. As Virgil put away the last plate, Patton tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“Hey, Virgil?” asked Patton quietly. He looked down, fiddling with his fingers uncertainly. “D’you want to do some painting with me?”

“Yeah, sure,” replied Virgil, smiling. “Sounds fun.”

The change in Patton’s demeanor was immediate. He bloomed like a cereus in the night, rising and filling the room with his bright smile and luminous aura. “Alright! I’ll get the stuff!” He bustled off upstairs, leaving Virgil, stunned and very gay, in the kitchen. He recovered after a minute and went to change into paint clothes.

Patton and Virgil set up in the living room, spreading a large piece of thick brown paper over the rug and scattering paints and glitter within easy reach. He plopped cross-legged on the paper, and Virgil followed suit.

“What are we making?” he asked.

“Whatever we want! This is one of my favorite projects to do with my kindergarteners, just give them a big piece of paper and a lot of craft supplies and let them do wherever they want.” Patton opened up a bottle of blue paint and squirted a bit into his hand. He continued, “Kids have something really special when it comes to art, they don’t focus on the end, they just grab some paint and go.”

Mixing in some white, he spread the paint in his palm in a wide circle over the brown paper. “I think we forget how to do that when we grow up, and I’ve been trying to relearn it from my students with this activity.”

Virgil hummed. He grabbed a bottle of purple, and, squirting it into his hand, began to add little dots and curlicues to the paper with his pinky, carving tiny cracks with his fingernail.

Patton continued to talk quietly about some of the other art projects he had done with his kindergarteners as the picture began to take shape. The two crawled and reached around their workspace and each other, trying their best not to smudge the paint. Virgil put his hand down in a colorful patch, shrugged, and slapped it down in a bare space.

They continued for some time, until eventually they both tired. Virgil leaned against Patton and they looked over the smudgy, colorful, glittery painting. Patton leaned into Virgil, too, with a happy sigh.

—

Virgil stared at the black canvas in his room. He tilted his head to the left. To the right.

I don’t get it.

Turning to the desk, he flipped through a few notebooks. They held heavily pigmented, shadowy works in pastel, deeply layered colored pencil, and many, many half-finished sketches, some violently scribbled out. He found one sketch of what was apparently going to be an oil painting, with a list of what sections were going to be added on which layers, but the background was purple, not black.

Another notebook held loose sheets of watercolor paper, some filled with so much paint portions were almost black, others with only a few layers, clearly in the early stages.

Dang, I sure do like dark colors.

Turning back to the canvas, he shrugged and picked up a pallet.

Fuck it. I’ll just Bob Ross it and do whatever.

—

Virgil snarls at the canvas. Nothing is coming out like it is supposed to. In a fit of anger, he grabs his largest brush, and slaps black paint over the entire surface, obliterating the slightly wonky figure of a person in profile. With another growl, he tears out the page the sketch for the piece had been on and crumples it up, pitching it into the trash. Stripping out of his paint clothes, he crashes straight into bed. The clock greenly blinks the time at him: 4:37 AM.

—

Saturday afternoon, Virgil had learned, Patton volunteered at the SPCA. Virgil lounged in the living room with a book as Patton bounced around, humming as he gathered his coat and his bag.

Patton poked his head in. “Hey Virge! Wanna come to work with me? I think Buster misses you.”

Virgil looked up from his book. “Hm… Yeah.” He smiled, marking his place and standing. Leaving the book on the coffee table, he followed Patton out the door.

When they got to the SPCA, Patton immediately led him into the back and over to where a tiny corgi and a large mastiff lay together in a pen. The two dogs jumped up as they approached, the corgi hopping eagerly over to say hi to Virgil.

“Let me just grab Keaton…” muttered Patton, reaching over to take the mastiff’s collar. Virgil, however, had already reached out and was scratching Keaton behind the ears. Patton raised his eyebrows, then smiled, bouncing on his toes a bit. “Virgil! I’m so proud of you!!” Virgil nodded absently, leaning further into the pen to waffle his hand along Buster’s back.

“You can step into the pen,” Patton told him with a laugh. Virgil was quick to do so, plopping down on the floor.

Checking their collars discreetly to be certain of their names, Virgil murmured various baby-talks at Buster and Keaton as the two tumbled over him. Patton cooed at them, watching the three as Virgil tried to pet both dogs all over at once. He took many photos on his phone.

—

“…And Virgil did so much better around Keaton, too! They were like best buds, Keaton was all over him and he was fine! I’m so proud,” Patton finished, stirring the dregs of his soup as he spoke.

“Oh, well done, Virgil,” said Business Casual through a mouthful. He swallowed, and continued. “I know larger dogs have been a difficult issue for you for quite some time. I’m glad you’ve taken the initiative to work on your fear.”

Virgil tried desperately not to show his panic. I was afraid of big dogs?? Ffffff-

“Yeah, uh, I just felt bad about separating Buster from his buddy when I visited.” He awkwardly fiddled with his empty water glass. Business Casual was giving him a weird look. What did that mean.

Thankfully, Roman inadvertently saved him by changing the subject to his own day at work, running a Saturday workshop on improv at the youth theatre company he worked for.

—

There was a box of brownie mix in the cupboard.

Virgil leaned into the living room, where Patton was working on a lesson plan. He waggled the box. “Wanna make brownies?”

Patton’s head popped up, beaming. “Yes!!!” He stood, putting a hand to his back, then bounced over. “I forgot that was in there!”

He started pulling out measuring cups, and Virgil glanced over the instructions before opening the fridge to grab eggs.

Virgil measured the oil, eggs, and water into the bowl as Pat stirred. Once the liquid ingredients had been thoroughly combined, Virgil measured out half the bag of mix and poured it in. Patton folded the two together, blending carefully before stirring more vigorously. Flecks of batter flew out of the bowl, and Virgil grunted in surprise as a drop hit him in the cheek.

Patton stopped and looked over at him. He giggled, glancing back down at his own shirt. “I guess I battered it a bit too much, huh?” He grinned cheekily up at Virgil, sunlight breaking over the horizon. A bit of batter had landed on his lip.

Virgil leaned down and kissed him.

Patton jumped back with a loud shriek, eyes widening in shock. “What!?”

Virgil took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “What?” Should I have given him more warning? Isn’t kissing something you do with someone you’re dating? Am I wrong about that?? Did the brain injury screw up my factual knowledge too???

Footsteps thudded from upstairs, and Roman bounded into the room, followed by Business Casual. “What happened?!”

“What!” Patton squeaked again.

“I’m sorry!” Virgil frantically replied. “I’m not- I’m confused. I’m sorry!” He waved his hands frantically.

“What happened?” Business Casual asked, stepping between the two. “Wh. Why are you covered in batter?” Virgil and Patton ignored him.

“What- Why did you kiss me??” shrilled Patton.

“Because we’re dating???” Virgil replied incredulously. Patton’s eyes blew even wider.

“I- You- Virge, since when?”

Virgil paused. What?? “Are. Are we not dating?”

“No! I think I would know if I was dating you!”

Everything Virgil thought he knew was crashing down around him. The world was ending. This was his worst nightmare.

“But! I thought! Everything adds up to you dating me! You spend more one-on-one time with me than anyone else! You hug me more than anyone else! You look at me different and you smile at me more! You said you loved me! You kissed the top of my head when I first woke up!” he explained frantically. Everything is over. Patton will hate me now and they’re going to kick me out and realize I have amnesia and I’m going to be homeless and lose my job and-

“Yeah, because I’m hopelessly in love with you and can’t handle how gay I am!”

For a moment, everything stopped. What?

“You’re in love with me?”

“You thought we were dating!”

“You just said we weren’t!”

“Virgil, why would you not recall that Patton and yourself were not dating?”

Everyone turned to Business Casual, who had stepped away from the two and was now leaning against the opposite counter.

“Virgil, you said you had extrapolated from Patton’s actions that the two of you were dating, citing specifically when you, quote, “first woke up”. Odd phrasing in any situation, but particularly when compounded with the rest of this situation. So, Virgil. Care to share why it was you needed to extrapolate from such details your and Patton’s relationship status?”

Virgil slumped hopelessly. This is it. I’m going to have to sell drugs at Dennys. “I don’t remember anything. I have amnesia.”

Business Casual smirked. “As I suspected.”

“You knew?? Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know how worried I’ve been that you all’d find out and be mad at me for not telling you sooner and kick me out for being an imposter?? I don’t even know your name! Do you have any idea how stressful this has been for me??”

“It’s Logan. And you could have just said something yourself.” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but like, there was never really a good time… and I didn’t want to be rude and be like “Who are you!” ‘cause you all were so happy to see me awake… and then it had been so long that it would have just been weird…”

—

Virgil and Patton sat awkwardly on the couch, facing each other. Logan had volunteered to call the doctor for Virgil, and Roman had quietly disappeared back upstairs.

“So,” said Patton. “Um. I guess you know I’m in love with you now. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable to be around me now, I can leave you alone for a while if you want, and I’ll try to get over-“

“Patton,” Virgil interrupted, perplexed. “I kissed you.”

“Yes! But! That was just because you thought we were dating!” Virgil had never heard anything more dumb in his life (the past month). And he worked customer service.

“Pat, I wouldn’t have thought we were dating if I didn’t like you too.” Virgil took a breath. “I thought we were dating because, when you hugged me after I first woke up, my first thought was that I loved you. I may not remember you, but I remember how I felt about you. And how I felt about you was that I loved you so much that even a major brain injury couldn’t take it away.”

Patton stared into Virgil’s eyes. “So you like me too?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Virgil leaned down in reply, and Patton met him halfway.

—

“And so as you can see from the compounded evidence, combined with his recent confession, Virgil definitely has amnesia.”

“Why was this necessary?” asked Roman. “You just listed all the times you saw Virgil doing something suspicious and out-of-character. We already know Virgil has amnesia. You didn’t need to make us sit down and watch a powerpoint about it.”

“In my defense, I spent a very long time doing this instead of my homework and wanted to share it with someone.” ***

—

*dont @ me, you read the disclaimer

**DONT FUCKING @ ME

***the note in my outline for this is: logan: here is my powerpoint on how virgil definitely has amnesia

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts patton #my ts fic #ts fanfic #my fic #amnesia

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friendlyneighborhoodborg · 5 years

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Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 6: Collab| “Working Together”

Okay, this is actually late. It is past midnight, technically Day 7.

I am actually posting Day 7 later today, hopefully before the week is out.

Anyway here’s the 6th day, and the only chapter in the dumpster fire to actually follow the prompt given.

Disclaimers were in Day 1.

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

AO3 Link

(~3200 biddling words. Why do I do this to myself?)

Marc didn’t know what he was. Today was weird: he didn’t feel girly anymore after last night, but at the same time he didn’t think the “he” suited him today. He realized this must have been what Alix was talking about before, about non-binary gender.

Being something that wasn’t a boy or a girl was trippy. Marc had felt it before, probably, but knowing what it was (which felt obvious now, considering… well, everything he was currently feeling) made it… something. For all the words he knew, he couldn’t peg one for the experience.

It occurred that he ought to have been surprised by how quickly he had taken to reconsidering his pronouns. But then, that’s what his gender did, didn’t it? Didn’t he always know that his gender did that? Hadn’t that been such a large source of his anxiety for years?

And now he was just rolling with it.

That morning, he had glanced at himself in a mirror, per his usual routine. His old adjectives, “Not him again” and “Could be worse” were absent this time. Instead, he had felt heavy. Overdressed, perhaps, only in his own skin.

But he could live with that.

It still stank, because French didn’t have a third-gender pronoun. That meant that, regardless of his actual self, he had to use male pronouns.

So, he comfortably got dressed, did up his face in a way he thought would suit him, and left for school.

Something was different that afternoon. Alix wasn’t in for some reason, which automatically meant the art teacher (he still kept forgetting his name) was more relaxed. Juleka and Rose were separated, for once. Rose was sitting in a corner, feverishly scribbling down notes in her pad. Juleka was in the opposite corner, reading a horror novel, and her ankle was shackled to a protruding pipe.

He approached Juleka cautiously, eyeing her restraints warily. “Did, uh…” He glanced up at the teacher, making sure he wasn’t listening. “Did Alix tell you?”

“Yeah, she got your text.” Juleka glanced up meaningfully at her girlfriend, by herself in the corner. “Lucky someone in this club has their head on straight.”

Marc chuckled. “I don’t know if we can say that, there’s like one straight person in this club.”

Juleka smiled for a second, then went back to reading her book. “And where was she, huh? Crazy overworked, fixing up stuff our last class rep neglected. Notice she couldn’t drop by all week?” She calmly flipped the page she was on. “Once again, Chloé got us into another fine mess that Marinette’s gotta pull us out of. Again.”

“What?” said Marc. “No, I meant… wait, Marinette’s straight?”

The musician shrugged. “So she claims. It is impolite to assume.” As normal, her expression and tone betrayed little.

“Biggest shock of my week,” was Marc’s jested reply. “But I was talking about Nathaniel.”

“Hm? Oh yeah.” She pulled up one hand to do finger-quotes. “‘Straight.’ That’s definitely an adjective that can describe him. Marc, have you seen the way he draws Chat Noir?”

“Of course, what about it?”

“Well, maybe you’re both blinded by the superhero’s skintight leather, but the boy is not that ripped.”

Rose hummed loudly. Juleka glanced up at her.

“I’m not trying to push anything, unlike some people,” she protested. “I’m merely pointing out that he should have already noticed by now, in a manner he will not pick up on for purposes of dramatic irony.”

“What’s going on?” he asked. “And what’s with you two?” He looked at the chain. “And… that?”

“She’s on probation,” explained Juleka. “Until she realizes what she did was wrong.”

“Probation of what?”

“Getting to run my hands through that soft, dark hair,” Rose replied for her, rubbing her fingers over the pages of her lyrics. “Holding her close to me, closing my eyes and breathing in her clove-scented perfume. Feeling the warmth of a heart matched beat-for-beat with mine.”

Marc looked back at Juleka. She was nose-deep in her book, but her forehead was sweating, her knuckles were white, and she refused to look anywhere near where Rose was sitting.

“Is that why you’ve chained yourself to this pipe?”

Juleka whimpered a little before answering. “It’s funny, in a tragic sort of way.”

“So, what’s holding Rose back?”

“Pity, mostly.”

“This isn’t about the makeup thing, is it?” questioned the writer. “I don’t blame Rose for anything that happened. I mean, it worked out, sort of.”

“Yeah, no thanks to me,” sniffed the poet. “If I’d have known…”

“Hey.” He approached her and offered his hand. “Hindsight is 20/20.”

“Still.” She rubbed the brimming tears from her eyes. “I was such an idiot, and you had to go through all of that because of me.”

“You’re still the first one who listened. Let’s be honest, that could have gone a lot worse.”

“I overreacted.” She looked down and continued to write, though it was mostly an excuse to avoid Marc’s eyes. “I thought I knew what was happening, and I thought I could help. I was wrong to try and do it by myself without seeing a second opinion.” Sniffing, she closed the notebook. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh…” groaned Juleka. “So close, Rose. Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Do what?”

“We aren’t be allowed to touch each other until she figures out exactly where she went wrong. She’s got most of it, but I’m not allowed to tell her the last one.”

“Okay, but why are you doing,” he gestured wildly at both girls, “this?”

“Because I don’t have the key and Rose is really trying, bless her.”

He looked between the two of them a few times, both of them equally miserable. “I get the feeling this wasn’t your guys’ arrangement.”

“It was Alix’s,” admitted Juleka. “We both went along with it. The chain was my idea, though. It’s the cruelest and most elaborate punishment ever devised, who do you think dreamt it up?”

“I mean,” Marc disputed, “I wouldn’t have pegged her specifically.” Particularly not after their little heart-to-heart yesterday.

“Never tick off someone with a small body-mass-to-temper ratio,” Rose advised. “Especially if everyone in her family is an ancient history buff.”

“What’s that got to—”

“Look, she knows a little something about torture.”

“Ah,” Marc commented, thoroughly confused and only pretending to understand. “You two look like you’re busy, I’ll leave you to it.”

He quietly took his seat at the back of the room, leaving the two to sort out their issues in peace.

All things considered, life was pretty good.

So why was Marc still feeling so anxious?

Nathaniel crept in through the door with his head down, answering the question.

“Nathaniel,” Juleka said. “Unlock me. I need to go use the bathroom.”

“Sure thing.” Nath approached her, holding something else up. “Brought your headphones, too, you left them in class.”

“It won’t work. She’s stuck in my head.”

Rose cast a saddened, dramatic gaze towards the writer in the back. “Pray you don’t become like us, Marc.”

Marc blushed. Of course Rose figured it out. She probably told Juleka, too.

Yet another thing to watch out for.

‘Wait, so is Nathaniel straight or not?’

Nathaniel joined him at their usual table once Juleka had been freed. “Hey.”

“You know,” Marc bet, “one has to wonder if that’s some sort of metaphor for something.”

The artist burst out laughing, but quickly shut himself up when he realized he was making noise. “Yeah,” he confessed. “Probably. But they’re good for each other. Rose helps Juleka’s self-esteem, Juleka keeps Rose grounded.”

“Yeah. They really are kinda fun to write. Speaking of…”

“Right! Back to work.”

“If we end off our comic there, Rose is never going to forgive us.”

“I know,” expressed Nathaniel, glancing over at the person in question. She was the only other student who hadn’t gone home yet. Volume up high in her earbuds, she wasn’t even looking at them. “But this story is way too interesting for one issue. With a cliffhanger like that, she’ll keep breathing down our necks to make more.” He blushed, realizing he had gotten ahead of himself. “I mean, if you’re okay with… I’ve really liked working with you and I want to—”

“Yes!” Marc blurted with a blush of his own. “I mean, um, yes. I would… I would love to keep working with you.”

“Okay.” He turned his attention back to the work. “So, if we end the issue with Princess Fragrance’s reveal, then that’s going to take a full-page panel.” He drew a border inside another blank page. “Right, so we’ve got that planned out. Now to just get cracking on those last few pages.” He surveyed the pages of blank boxes in front of him, each with a little note of what went in each. “And we know what has to be said at each bit, so if you want to edit specific dialogue, now’s the time to do that.”

“Cool. I’ll get on top of that.”

Marc’s brain suddenly took a dive, and he hastily tried to delete the previous sentence from his brain.

Each of them had the plans for everything, so they didn’t see a reason to talk much, a silence Marc respected even if he himself wasn’t comfortable with it. If it made Nathaniel more comfortable, he could swing that.

His brain needed to stop it immediately with the double-entendres.

The two of them worked for another few minutes, with only the sound of their pens scratching their paper.

Nathan, surprisingly, was the one who broke the silence. “So… last night you were a girl.”

Marc exhaled nervously. He wasn’t wrong, but it still felt weird to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “Uh, yeah.”

“Earlier yesterday you were a boy.”

“Yep.”

“So…” Nath bit his lip, which Marc had to avert his gaze from. “I don’t want to just assume, in case I get it wrong. What are you now?”

Marc had been stewing this over while he worked. Truth be told, he found he didn’t actually care as much today. He knew he wasn’t a boy, and he wasn’t a girl, but… he wasn’t really much of anything else either.

“I don’t think I’m anything right now.”

“Really?”

“Nothing, right now.” He shrugged. “I’m just… nothing.”

“How does that work?”

“Search me.” He shrugged once again. “I don’t have much of a gender today, I guess.”

“So…” Nathaniel paused. “It’s like there’s no… asterisks.”

“Asterisks?”

Nath winced. “Sorry. I was trying to be poetic, y’know, like you? You have this great, flowing… your words are just, they click. Does that make sense? It probably doesn’t make sense, forget I said anything.”

Marc smiled at the compliment, going back to his journal. “They’re just words.”

“They’re not, though, alright?” he declared. “They’re not just words, they’re you! The way you get words to line up, only you can do it that way. You’re so… smart, and creative, and… your writing style is just great.”

“Th-thanks.”

“I mean that.” Nathan looked away, holding his arm sheepishly. “You’re great, you’re really…” He shut his eyes. “Forget it.”

Marc blinked. “What was that?”

“Never mind. Where you at? Panel 9-g, the security guard is revealed to be possessed, Ghostlight comes out, and we need a good, punchy line to start the fight with.”

“No…” Marc closed his journal. “This can wait. What were you going to say?”

“Nothing important.”

“I doubt that.” He reached over the table and took his hand. “Nath, whatever it is, it’s important. You want to say it, say it.”

Nathaniel blushed. His mouth opened and closed, flopping like a fish, and he started to sweat.

Marc looked down and realized oh wait, he was actually holding Nath’s hand. He instantly let go, which seemed to shock Nath back into coherency.

“I can’t,” he told him.

“You can’t?”

“No,” he restated. “I’ll just mess it up, just forget it.”

“I’ll listen.” This gave the author pause. “I’ve been keeping up with you for the last week. I’ll understand what you’re trying to say.”

His face had determination etched into it. He opened his mouth and began.

“Oh!” Rose said suddenly, breaking his momentum. “Look at the time, I have to… go make an excuse.” She scooched off of her seat and sashayed out the door. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she called back, leaving the door ajar.

Both collaborators stared after her. The art teacher glanced in her direction, then he, too, left the room.

Nathaniel and Marc were alone. Nathan, only a little deterred, summoned back what little courage he had left.

“You…” He stopped. “You’re my friend, right Marc?”

“Yeah,” was the immediate, nodding answer. “I hope so, anyway.”

“And… I’m your friend, right?”

“Of course.”

“You… you’re so much of a better person than I am.” The boy gulped. “No matter… who you are. And today, it’s like… I’m so glad I get to see you happy.”

“Uh…” Marc nodded again in appreciation. “Thanks.”

“I mean, look at you, you’re happier, even if you’re still the same person who’s come in to help me with this stupid thing—”

“Nathan, it’s not stupid—”

“It is, though, and sometimes it feels like we’re the only people here who care about it. Only now you’ve changed, and you’re so much more relaxed now, and… And it’s good for you, right? You get to be so much more confident. Like just now, when you said you had no gender, you said it and you were sure.”

“I’m still not really sure.”

“You sounded sure, and that’s better than I can do. With pretty much anything. I’m not strong or witty, but you are. There’s just so many little things, here and there, and I can’t concentrate right. There’s just so many things about—”

The sudden halt from the speed at which Nathaniel had been talking gave Marc whiplash.

Marc looked at him, expecting him to finish what he was saying.

“I can’t…” he mumbled. “Just… that’s it, then. I don’t know how I was going to end that.”

“You feeling okay, Nathan?” queried Marc. “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk so much in one go.”

“It’s…nothing.” Nath took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to… think of things I wanted to say—” He got out of his seat, turning away. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“No,” Marc stated, standing up behind him. “You’re not. If you need to say something, just say it.”

“I think—”

“Go on.”

“I think you’re—” Nathaniel swallowed his tongue and hunched over, covering his mouth.

“Nath!” Marc rushed to his aid. “Breathe slowly, okay? Are you alright? You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I didn’t say anything, just…” Nath’s voice broke. “Please, just drop it, I don’t wanna…”

Marc couldn’t believe it. Nathaniel, whose creativity knew no bounds, was censoring himself.

That could not happen.

And Marc needed to know.

“What if I don’t want to drop it?”

“Marc, please…”

“What if I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me? What would you say if you could talk to me?” He looked into his icy-blue eyes, piercing through with his warmth. “What if you were about to say what I thought you were going to say? What if it’s that important that I hear how that sentence was going to end?” He snatched Nath’s hands from where they had covered his mouth and cradled them in his own. “And what if, by some miracle, I cared about how you felt and what you thought?”

Nath stared back at him, and both of them reeled from the shock of Marc’s outburst.

Then Nathaniel slowly started shaking his head.

“Don’t do this… don’t do that to me,” he murmured. “Stop doing that, you’re going to just regret it.”

Marc tightened his grip. “Just say what you wanted to. Stop putting up all these filters in your head.” He grasped at something. “Do the thing about the asterisks. What did you mean by that?”

Nath took a deep breath and tried. “Well… right now, you’re… no gender. No asterisks. No added stress. You’re just… Marc. Pure Marc.” He scowled. “I mean… that’s not good, is it, that’s not clever. Cause you’re not just genderless, are you?” He wrenched his hands from Marc’s ironclad grip. “Look, you could be a girl and I’d… you’d still be you. Same for if you end up a boy. You just get to be you. And… I like it when you’re you.” He stopped, looking to Marc for criticism.

After a moment, Marc smiled warmly. “That was pretty poetic.”

“Y-you do it so much better than me.”

They both smiled.

“C-can I—” Nath gulped, shutting himself down.

“What?”

“N-nothing.” He shook where he stood. “Forget it.”

“No chance.” Marc wasn’t sure where this courage was coming from, but he didn’t shake it away. “You don’t have to filter yourself. I won’t judge anything you say from here on out, you hear me? It’s the least I can do for what you and Alix have done for me.”

Nathaniel drew closer suddenly, his hand touched Marc’s cheek, and their lips barely touched. For a single half-second, their lips brushed against one another, and then Nathan drew back like Marc was a burning stove.

Both creators were left in a state of shock.

“Oh… my… God.” Marc gaped. “You…”

“Cute,” Nathaniel muttered. “I was gonna say cute. Before.” He looked down. “I’m… sorry, I’ll just…” He made his way to his bag, tripped on a chair, and started to bolt for the door.

Seeing Nathan start to panic and run away triggered something in him. He suddenly found a good reason to raise his voice.

Nathaniel had given him strength. Now he had to return the favor.

“Hey, get back here!” Marc called out, and the artist stopped. “I’ve had a crush on you for over a full month now. You get a do-over.” Marc surged forward, turned him back around, and kissed him again, this time much more solidly.

A few seconds passed and they separated. “You have a crush on me?” Nath said, confused.

Marc laughed a little at his expense. “There were times, even just this week, where something you did just completely killed me, stone dead.”

Nath blinked. “Do you want to go out sometime?”

“You see, this is what I’m talking about.” He pulled him close and hugged him tightly. “Son of a gun, yes, but don’t give me heart attacks like that.”

Nath’s arms awkwardly returned the embrace. “I, uh… I’ve never had a… an actual date before. What’s the, uhm… protocol, here?”

“Are you serious?”

“Half-serious.”

“Well don’t worry. It’ll be a learning experience for the both of us.”

We have always belonged together!

Nathaniel tore away from the embrace, turning sharply towards the door. “Rose, what the hell!?”

The little pink devil held the phone up high, volume turned all the way up. We will always belong together! Just keep moving on!

“Sorry,” Rose giggled. “My hand slipped.”

The collaborators looked at each other. Nodding a silent agreement, they chased after Rose together.

Okay. I don’t have much else to say right now, so... *shuffles away*.

#Marc Appreciation Week #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #nathmarc #julerose #fanfic

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cephalo-bot · 6 years

Photo

My designs for the fabulous four, I heard that’s what we’re calling them now. Dorothy was meant to be 8-10 years old in the first book so I tried to make her look around that age in my design. I imagine her to be around 4-5 feet tall. She has her braids from the first book and I was thinking of making her hair be a golden brown to combine her designs from the first and third books. I thought a high waisted suspender skirt would be cute but it’s just going to be solid blue and not gingham so she’ll be easier to draw. In a different illustration I drew Toto as a schnauzer and gave him a blue ribbon around his neck to match Dorothy. Her eyes will be hazel and her skin will be slightly tanned since she’s a farm girl who’s outside all the time. The Scarecrow was a lot of fun to design, I tried to make him look less like a human and more like something that was made to look like a human but isn’t. I imagine him to be around 6 feet tall. I also tried to show that he doesn’t have bones and has trouble walking because of that. It mentioned in the book that his hat and eyes were blue, and that one of his eyes was slightly bigger than the other. His eyes are outlines but the lines will be blue in colored versions. I thought that his face should be simple shapes since it said in the book that his face was crudely painted on. His color scheme will be mostly blue, but his face and hands will be white, and his boots and the stripes on his pants will be black. The Tin Woodman was the most frustrating character to design but I think he turned out good. The first thing I decided was that he has to be able to bend at the waist, that would make his life so much easier. I also imagine him to be slightly taller than the Scarecrow. I decided on ball joints for him since automatons are dolls and dolls usually have ball joints, also they’re easier to draw. Most automatons are powered by being wound up by a key, but the Tin Woodman clearly isn’t powered that way, that’s a different character. I decided that he must be powered by steam so I gave him two smokestacks. If he was in an animated movie or a comic, the steam would probably be used as visual grammar. I thought a small panel on his chest would be cute and he probably uses it as a pocket. He also probably unlocks it with his weird long pointy fingers. Parts of his design were inspired by Edward Scissorhands, my other favorite automaton. Particularly the eyes, I wanted him to have that gentle and innocent look that Edward has. I made him look slightly more human since he used to be human. My brother wanted me to add gears to his axe so I though why not just make the blade shaped like half a cogwheel. I avoided drawing the Cowardly Lion for a while because I’m not very good at drawing animals. So I practiced drawing animals before I drew him. In the book he’s described as a lion the size of a small horse, and in the third book it mentions that he had a blue ribbon in his made, it was too cute not to include. I tried to stylize his face enough so I could give him human expressions while still looking like a lion. This might sound a little weird but in the books he really reminds me of Totoro, I can’t really explain why. That may or may not have influenced the way I drew him.

#the wizard of oz #the wonderful wizard of oz #Oz #Oz series #dorothy gale #scarecrow #scarecrow of Oz #tin woodman #tin man #nick chopper #cowardly lion #lion #l frank baum

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terriblesportsimagines · 6 years

Note

Lmao Idk I just thought of something dumb of miyuki and or kuramochi sending memes to their gf maybe you can do a hc or scenario Idk I love this blog I just wanted you to do it XD

Okay, I have to say, I fucking love this ask. At first I was like “Damn it, this will be hard…” but it ended up being fun.

Miyuki came out a little angsty, but Mochi’s is one of the most favorite things I’ve written.

Also, I wrote this just assuming that they would know western memes because of course I don’t speak Japanese so researching Japanese memes is too time consuming. Benefit of the doubt lovelies!

Miyuki Kazuya

You don’t know what you were expecting. You knew yourboyfriend, and knew he was an idiot troll. Still, you’d asked a seriousquestion, one would think you could expect at least a somewhat seriousresponse. But nope, when you swiped your phone to unlock it to read thewaiting message, you saw only a really stupid image of a stick figure making aface, the worst kind of meme. You instantly rolled your eyes and groundyour teeth.

He’d been doing it all day. Honestly, you didn’t evenknow how he found the time to find all the damn memes, because he should bepracticing. And yet, he replied to all your messages in good time, betterthan normal even, though he not actually replied to a single thing you said.

You were starting to lose your patience with him. Youknew exactly why he was doing it too. You were trying to get him tocommit to meeting your parents during the Golden Week break and he kept puttingyou off. It was pretty classic Miyuki tactic of avoidance. Hedidn’t want to do it, or was scared to do it, but also didn’t want to actuallysay no and upset you. It was like he thought that you didn’t realize thatwas exactly what he was doing.

You’re the worst. If you don’t want to go just sayso. You typed and hit send before going back to what you weredoing.

Sometime later you opened your messaging app to see apicture of an American actor holding up a wine glace, a smirk on his face withblurry fireworks in the background. You were familiar with this meme,despite its western origin and it made your eye twitch. He was basicallysaying Congratulations on recognizing the obvious.

Well, fine, if he was going to be like that, then you’d meethis pseudo silence with real silence and see how he liked it. Bloody jackass.

God, sometimes you just wanted to punch him in his perfectface.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to notice that youwere ignoring and/or avoiding him. To be fair, he was busy with thespring prefecture tournament and trying to rally the team after their thirdround loss in Senbatsu, but still. You felt like a boy should at leastrealize when his girlfriend was suddenly missing from his life. Maybe youreally didn’t mean that much to him, and that was a depressing thought.

When he finally caught up, having realized your ire, it was four days later and he had to corner you in the hall duringlunch. “You’re mad I don’t want to meet you parents.” He stated, a frownon his handsome face, his body blocking out all others in front of you.

Considering it took him four days to even realize you wereupset with him, you weren’t overly surprised he hadn’t figured out why youwere upset. “That’s not why I’m mad,” you replied, closing youreyes.

“But you are mad, at me,” Miyuki retorted, lips twisting andeyes reflecting concern. “If that’s not it then why-”

You weren’t the type to play games, he’d gotten your messageand now you would be straight with him. “Kazuya, if you’re not ready totake that step, that’s okay, I understand. But tell me that. Deflecting me with stupid memes just makes me question the validity of ourwhole relationship.”

His eyes widened, then a second later darted away, hisshoulders rounding just a bit. “Sorry,” he bit out like it was pullingteeth, and it probably was, because he had trouble with apologies andmeaningful emotions. “I… didn’t know how to respond and I… didn’t want tohurt your feelings.”

“Well, mission not accomplished. You know itbothers me when I’m serious and you aren’t.” You sighed, overwhelmed by theurge to touch him. Your fingers searched out and skimmed along his belt,comforting yourself and maybe him.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I… can’t.”

The guilt and shame was written all over his body, and ithad you reaching. Despite the fact that you were in the middle of thehall at lunch, you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. “It’s okay, Kazuya, I get it. There’s no rush.”

He had no real problem with public displays of affection,though he still tensed when you initiated. This time, however, he justreached back, gathering you against his chest and burying his face into yourhair. “You really didn’t like my memes? I’m hurt, ____-chan~” Hemurmured, a decidedly wicked edge to his tone.

“You really are the worst.” You replied, though there was asmile on your face as your cheek touched his collar bone. “If I ever seeanother meme from you we’re over.”

Miyuki laughed. “Sure~”

Kuramochi Youichi

When your phone went off the first time you weren’texpecting much. You got texts all the time, and though you weren’tcarrying on any current conversations there was nothing to say your friends orfamily couldn’t start one. You weren’t even surprised when yourboyfriend’s name popped up when you looked at it.

He was in a different class, so it wasn’t uncommon for himto text you during breaks, especially if had been a couple of days sinceyou’d been able to get together. Opening the message, you realized it wasan image, which you opened quickly. The second you saw it and read it yousnorted loudly and laughed, earning weird looks from your classmates. Itwas a comic meme with poorly drawn faces, one male and one ‘female’ with blondhair and a pink bow. Girlfriend seems to be in a weird mood… thefirst panel said over the male face. Then in the second, Babe are youokay? Said the male face, Yeah, I’m fine said the female. Thelast panel was the female turning into a weird blue faced, sharp toothed trollwith a curling mustache, I’m actually upset about many things that I willhold against you without you knowing!!

It was very hard not to laugh hysterically. It hadbeen a few days since you’d been able to spend any time together, so the jokewas on point and extra amusing.

Compelled to reply, you did a quick internet search andfound a meme you liked – an American actor in an 80s movie with fluffy hair anda confused and horrified expression, When my boyfriend can’t understand whyI’m mad.

You could practically hear your boyfriend’s cackle from aclass away. It was pretty distinctive, but he was loud. It made yougrin and wait in anticipation for his response.

It came surprisingly quickly. The picture popped up onyour phone a couple of minutes later. It was a picture of the weird fishalien from Star Wars and read It’s a trap!

Giggling like a mad woman, you did another search and cameup with the common meme Overly Obsessed Girlfriend. This one read, I don’tlike to blink because I miss you when I don’t see you.

His reply was a picture of the main character from Futuramanarrowing his eyes. Not sure if actually a good girlfriend or just agood liar.

“Are you okay?” One of your classmates asked you as yourshoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter.

“Yeah,” you replied. I have the bestboyfriend. Your heart thrummed with affection for your silly boy.

Time was running out so your meme-war was going to have tocome to an end. But you were determined to win it and found exactly thememe to do that. It was the baby making the achievement fist meme and itread, Dream about having the most amazing boyfriend, wake up and rememberyou do.

The bell rang, thus ending the break so you put away yourphone, still smiling and feeling really good about the rest of the day. It was a little harder to concentrate than normal, mostly because you keptthinking of Kuramochi’s grinning face, but that was okay. It was a goodenough feeling that you didn’t even mind.

Lunch time finally hit and you stood up from your desk,wondering if you should try to find your boyfriend. You really did misshim after all.

As it turned out, you didn’t even have time for that much,because a second after you stood up he was there, filling up the doorway toyour classroom, eyes shining under the artificial lights. “___-chan!” Heshouted, grinning so wide it split his face in two.

You took less than three steps in his direction before hewas in front of you, picking you up and swinging you around, completelyheedless to your classmates who stared and giggled. “Mochi!” Youcomplained half-heartedly, the effect ruined by giggles.

“Ah, sweetheart,” Kuramochi sighed happily, hugging youtightly. “I adore ya, ya know?”

You smiled and cuddled as close as you can get. “Rightback at you~”

#daiya no ace #Ace of Diamond #Kuramochi Youichi #miyuki kazuya #scenarios

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rolcomictranscriptions · 6 years

Text

Night Witch 1 Pages 1 to 5

Where the text is in Cyrillic in the comic I have provided the Cyrillic and transliterated it to Latin but not translated it unless a translation is provided in the comic.

Page 1

First Panel:

The head and shoulders of a morose white man with blue eyes and black hair. He’s looking towards reader.

Off-screen speaker: максим (Maksim)

Second Panel:

Maksim’s position and the panel focus don’t change.

Off-screen speaker: максим! (Maksim!)

Third Panel:

Maksim turns to look at the speaker.

Off-screen speaker: Проснись, Максим! (Prosnis', Maksim!)

Fourth Panel:

Focus pulls out from Maksim to show they are in a van. Maksim is in the back with a white man with brown hair who was the off screen speaker. Sitting opposite is a white man with blonde hair working on a tablet. In the front are two white men. The one on the right is talking to the men in the back. Through the front screen it can be seen they are in front of a brick wall with windows in it.

Maksim: Да? (Da?) Brown haired man: Мы очень рады что вы смогли присединится (My ochen' rady chto vy smogli prisedinitsja) Maksim: Уже пора? (Uzhe pora?) Brown haired man: нет еще. (net eshhe.) Blonde haired man: 200 метр (200 metr) Man from front: Хорошо.Маски! 10 секунд (Horosho. Maski! 10 sekund)

Fifth Panel:

Focus returns to Maksim’s head and shoulders. He’s pulling a white hat over his head.

Off-screen speaker: 5 секунд (5 sekund)

Sixth Panel:

Maksim pulls the hat down further over his face. It has three holes lined in black.

Off-screen speaker: 4 секунд 3... 2... 1... (4 sekud 3... 2... 1...)

Seventh Panel:

Maksim has full pulled the balaclava over his head. It has black ears.

Off-screen speaker: Давай, давай! (Davaj, davaj!)

Page 2

First Panel:

A London street. A bus is stopped on one side of the road, A white van is approaching on the other side and the Russian’s van is approaching from a side street.

Second Panel:

Close up on the head of a man in a hoody wearing what looks like a bluetooth headset.

Over the headset: Давай, давай! (Davaj, davaj!)

Third Panel:

Focus pulls out to show the man kneeling and getting something out of a duffle bag.

Fourth Panel:

The man is seen extending a concertinaed metal contraption with spikes at every joint across the road.

Fifth Panel:

The white van approaches the metal contraption and punctures one of it’s tires. The white van is branded Servé and has a row of windows in the back.

Sixth Panel:

The van loses control and crashes into a station wagon on the road in front of it.

Page 3

First Panel:

The Russian’s van pulls into the white van from the side.

Second Panel:

The Russian’s pile out of their van from the back. Maksim is in the lead with a piece of paper. The man imediately following him has a gun. Both of the other two men seem to be wearing plain black balaclavas.

Third Panel:

Shown from the passenger of the white van’s perspective. Maksim is holding a note reading ‘OPEN THE DOOR’ to the driver’s side window with a double barrelled shot gun pointed at the window. The driver is obviously scared.

Fourth Panel:

The other two men are a the back of the white van. It has a small door with a window in it. Both men are pointing double barrelled shotguns at the door. The man on the right is wearing a black balaclava and the man on the left is wearing a khaki and olive drab stripped blalaclava.

Fifth Panel:

The focus tightens on the door which unlocks with a click.

Sixth Panel:

The men enter the van with stripped balaclava leading.

Seventh Panel:

Inside the van is a corridor with doors off it. The men are opening one of the doors.

Page 4

First Panel:

A woman with long brown hair wearing a sari is sat in a cubical with walls close on either side and window at the back.

Off-screen speaker: Нет. (Net.)

Second Panel:

A white woman with blond hair, tattoos on her arms and wearing ripped jeans is in this cubical.

Off-screen speaker: No.

Third Panel:

A woman with brown hair wearing a slim suit is in this cubical.

Off-screen speaker: Definitely not.

Fourth Panel:

A blonde woman in a shirt and suit is in this cubical.

Off-screen speaker: Varvara Sidorovna Taamonina?

Varvara: Who’s asking?

Page 5

First Panel:

Same art as fourth panel on page 4.

Off-screen speaker: I’m here to rescue you.

Varvara: What makes you think I want to be rescued?

Second Panel:

The off-screen speaker reaches out to grab Varvara’s arm. She is looking down at his hand on her arm and frowning.

Off-screen speaker: Everybody wants to be rescued.

Third Panel:

Varvara looks back up at the man and frowns.

Narrator: Varvara Sidorovna Tamonina.

Fourth Panel:

In sepia tone, five women in military uniform are pictured with Varvara in the centre.

Narrator: Born November 21st 1921 in Kryukovo, Russia. Served as a Lieutenant in the 365th Special Regiment. Also known as the Night Witches.

Fifth Panel:

Back to the cubical. Varvara has pulled back the arm the man isn’t holding as though to punch him but her fist is surrounded with blue light. The background of the page is blue with a swirl of white in the bottom right hand corner. It can be seen that this swirl is made up of snow flakes that bleed into the bottom right hand corner of this panel.

#Rivers of London #Night Witch #Night Witch 1 #Maksim #Varvara Sidorovna Tamonina

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