cast shadow

Sup! I'm back from Barcelona! Hope you're doing well!

Remember that sbi rust prompt you gave me a month or 2 ago? It is done (not readproff tho so there may be some mistakes) anyway enjoy my grand return!

Edit: did you know 250 paragraphs is the limit lenght to an ask? On an unrelated note I will have to cut this into multiple parts so enjoy this first chapter!

-----

"Whaaat the-"

Wilbur took a step back, mouth agape and watched the figure inside of the dome. A human, identical in the looks, if not for the size of it.

When he went to explore the looming monument that rose from near his house, he expected food or scientific papers, perhaps some gas masks and equipment, not a... giant.

Weren't those things a myth?? Just a silly fictional creature to scare children away, not... not real and THERE, sleeping right in front of him??

The thing was curled up on himself, unable to fit in the 30ft wide sphere if going to its full lenght.

Wilbur was trapped in the walls of flesh.

And to his dismay, he was just in time to witness the creature wake up.

Lazily, they opened their eyes, squinting. They looked at their surroundings, the roof, the walls, the floor.

And the man was able to pinpoint the exact moment their eyes landed on him.

They gasped softly, almost mute. Their eyes widened, and they stood here, studying the punny intrudor for a too long moment. Only after, they spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Uhm... hello."

Wilbur expected the giant to speak, seeing how akin to a human he was, but he didn't expect such a young voice to be held by the.... boy?

"Hey." Wilbur waved, hand as shaking and hesitant as his voice.

"... What's your name?" They spoke.

Wilbur gulped, more on instinct. "Uuh, Wilbur. Who are you? What are you doing here?" He pointed.

They nodded in a hum before looking at the floor below, eyes a bit blurry.

"I...my name is Tommy. And uh... this is where I sleep."

The stare the human kept on the boy was intense, full of disbelief and curiosity. It was uncomfortable.

He shifted a bit. And Wilbur's eyes darted towards the small movements. Ah, right. Humans were hyperaware.

"It's been a while since I met someone around here."

"Yeah, I can imagine that... ever since the nuclear incident, it's been quite the task to find someone." Wilbur explained. What did this being knew exactly?

"Oh... I see." He lowered his head, before letting it rest on the floor, and holy shit he was even bigger than he thought.

He swallowed the lump back down his throat, and sat legs crossed.

The giant, which looked like a teenager now that he got to see his face up close, kept looking at him, expression almost bored.

Then, without much a warning, he lifted his hand and moved it towards the human, who instantly scrumbled away as fast as he could.

"wowowwoowowo- what-"

The hand froze, and when he looked at Tommy, the expression was sad, almost hurt.

Silence filled the room for a minute.

"Sorry" the giant apologized. "I must be quite scary, huh?"

Without much thinking, wilbur nodded. "Um, yeah"

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He reassured, his voice pathetic. "Can I come closer?"

Wilbur looked at the hand, then at the teen. He took a deep breath before nodding, earning a pleased smile from the blond.

More careful, a hand thrice his size came to him, fingers slowly wrapping themselves around the human. He tensed, unwilling to move an inch despite his mind begging him to get out of here.

He closed his eyes in anticipation, but after a minute of stillness, he felt a rough pressure on his head, ruffling his hairs.

"Wha- what are you doing?" He asked, refusing to open his eyes yet.

Before he got an answer, the mass, which he recognized as a thumb, moved from playing with the hair to caress his skin as gently as possible.

With much hesitation, the human opened his eyes and met the face of the teen, who beared an expression of pure shock and wonder.

As the thumb rubbed against his cheek, he inhaled, shivered.

"You're so small... so fragile..."

His face was washed with a wave of sadness, while Wilbur drew his hand closer to the gun hidden in his jacket.

"How do you feel, wilbur? Do you feel fragile?" His voice was as sad as unreadable.

And at the moment, Wilbur did feel as powerless as a bug stuck in a web. A tall, wide web. Not that he would tell Tommy.

"... Is that a threat?" He asked instead.

"No, I'm just curious." A sort of melancholy couldn't leave the giant's face. "If I were to threaten someone, it would be because they acted like a bitch. You're not a bitch as far as I know."

The curse took Wilbur off guard, and he found himself giggling at the vocabulary. The blong smiled as well.

Then, the thumb moved from the face and slowly descended to cover his chest (entirely)

And....

It felt... like a hug?

How long has it been since Wilbur has been hugged.

The gesture was confusing.

"... why?" He voiced.

"I don't know. I know people like hugs. Makes them feel safe."

He eyed the fingers around him before focusing, wary, on the face.

"What are you planning to do to me?"

"Huh?!" He raised eyebrow and his hands left Wilbur's surrounding in a too quick motion, gesturing in defense. "Nothing!! I just want you to be comfortable. Been a while since I talked to anyone." Without the giant controling his volume, Wilbur had to cover his ear at the sudden booming sound.

He nodded nontheless, still unsure, and the silence drawn out.

"...why did you want to explore the dome?"

For some reason, the echoing voice was quite soothing to the human's ears, now that it was bearable. He took a few steps and put his hand on the part of the dome not blocked by an enormous mass. His finger carressed the copper walls until he was sat.

"I wanted to explore. I don't live very far, and this structure intrigued me. I expected to find some researches, not.... uh..."

Tommy smiled and understood the man without him having to finish. "Yeah. I'm not really something to be expected."

He nodded. "And you've been here for a while?"

"Not so much." The giant responded, "I usually travel from place to place trying to survive, pretty much like everyone else."

"I see..."

"I can try and look out for any paper or stuff if you want, so next time you come, I can hand them over."

Wilbur paused. The idea of returning to the giant made him frown, but the blond did seem to hold no grudges against him.

".... Maybe." He landed on.

And visibly, the teen was elated at the news, his grin growing to his ear and his hands joining in a clap. (As gentle as he could to not make the small man deaf.)

"Welp." He got up, before he got a sugar overdose from seeing that excitment. "I think I'm gonna head back."

"Do you want me to help you get back home?" The other proposed, enthusiast.

"No."

It was quiet for a moment, silence only disturbed by the giant shifting position. It was... unusual. But the enormous teen didn't seem hostile, and if Wilbur could get himself such an ally, he wouldn't take it down.

And so he returned home.

---

2 days later, he returned.

He was surprised as well, but curiosity guided his steps much more than his fears ever since the giant teen revealed himself a potential ally.

He inhaled deeply before climbing the stairs, his feet landing on the metalic ground.

The smile on the teenager's face when he turned around and met the tiny man was as heartwarming as nervewracking.

"YOU'RE BACK!!!" He cheered, and already the human had to cover his ears, the joyous scream deafening. He realized his mistake pretty soon though as he covered his mouth and mumbled, much quieter "Sorry. Hi Wilbur."

"Hello, Tommy." He replied, cautiously removing his hands from his ear. "How have you been?" He started. Usual politeness shouldn't be too awkward.

It took all the self control of the blond to keep his voice quiet enough when he said "I've been fine, thank you." The energy bubbling from him only made Wilbur chuckle.

"Good, good." Wilbur took a few steps towards the blond (or rather his face, since the teen was kind of all around the room) "You seem happy to see me."

Tommy nodded way too quickly and strongly as he confirmed. "Yep! I-" he pained keeping his voice low "-I wasn't sure if you'd really come back. I'm very very very glad you didn't lie. Especially since I have..... THIS!!"

He didn't even bother whispering as his hand came to view, previously hidden behind his back, and coming towards Wilbur in a fist at a racing pace. The brunette couldn't help but flinch back.

Tommy stopped mid-way, realizing his carelessness once more. He whispered an apology and the hand came, much slower this time. (Almost comically slow, but Wilbur wouldn't really complain)

Then, when only at about 6ft away from the man, the hand opened, revealing several piles of papers.

Wilbur's eyes widened. He looked at the blond, confused.

"You said you wanted to look for researches and stuff, sooo I tried finding some. And you were right! There are papers everywhere in here!"

Wilbur looked at the floor which he now realized was almost white from sheets, as well as the several seemingly blank pages stuck on the giant's body, and nodded, repressing a chuckle.

"Yep. Everywhere."

Tommy held back a laugh as well, and Wilbur tried visualizing how this.... god knows how tall being could try opening drawers with his nails barely thin enough to hold the handler, and reading papers the size of a pins on his hands, all while trying to manœuver his body so he wasn't blocking the rest of the building.

He would lie if he said the thought wasn't amusing.

He went for the paper, and without much thinking hopped onto the hand, since the papers were mostly at the center of his palm.

He grabbed a few and sat down, begining reading when he felt a shaky inhale. He looked up to meet the amused eyes of the blond.

"... Seat's comfortable?" He teased, as playful as baffled.

Wilbur frowned, then looked below him and his eyes widened as he registered. He shot straight up.

"Oh-oh oh I'm so sorry- I- I sincerely apologize I-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as he covered his ears, a wheezed laugh echoing through the entire thing and sending Wilbur shaking from the vibrations.

He found himself laughing as well, barely able to keep up his balance as he stepped out of the hand, a good chunk of paper held between his chest and arms.

The laughs finally died down, the blond disforming his face with his hand trying hard to muffle the sounds. He looked back at the human with what could only be described as adoration. The hand left his face and he chuckled still as he talked.

"Ahh, don't worry about it. I expected you to just take the papers and go, but this? This was funny. Definitely the first time someone sits on my hand like that."

"I-... is it a bad thing?" Wilbur asked, taking slow steps backward while he kept a smile. The last thing he wanted was to upset a giant he was trapped with. Sure, the kid was nice, even though overwhelming, but a wrong gesture could change that first part pretty quickly.

"Nah, I don't mind. If the floor is too cold for your liking, you can sit here."

Wilbur sighed in relief and gave the blond a smile. "Alright. Thanks."

He still chose to sat on the floor, and started reading again. His intuition was right, there was tons of information in here.

He read in silence, only disturbed every once in a while when Tommy asked what was in the sheets. Wilbur explained as easily as possible and kept the details for himself. Tommy was satisfied with the answer he was given, though, so that wasn't a problem.

He was only a quarter through the first pile of paper when he felt something approaching. He froze when a mass, probably a finger, found itself on top of Wilbur's head.

There was a beat of silence when neither moved, and the finger ruffled ever so slightly his hair.

It was a bit awkward, but it wasn't uncomfortable, so he didn't protest.

A soft voice pierced through the silence.

"If I press on your head too hard or hurt you, warn me. You're small so I don't know how much pressure I can apply on you."

"Alright." Wilbur nodded. "You're doing fine right now, I'll tell you if that changes."

The rest of the reading was done with Tommy gently playing with Wilbur's hair or tapping his back in an attempt at a 'massage' (as Tommy called it). It was distracting, but not uncomfortable. At times, even soothing.

It was almost night when Wilbur read most of the first pile. He got up with the paper he read already and looked for an empty drawer.

Fortunately, since Tommy spent 2 days scrambling to get every possible paper out, it wasn't much of a challenge. Below Tommy's angled leg was a furniture. He went and deposited it.

"That should be good." He said as he closed it. He then turned around to meet the blond. "Well, I think it's time for me to go home. I'll be back soon though, this place is VERY interesting."

He forced himself not to fake a gag at Tommy's smile. Urg. So genuine.

"Yeaaayyy" the giant stage-whispered while clapping his hands as softly and quickly as possible. "It's nice having you around. Can I do anything to help you?"

Wilbur brought a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. "If you find an empty book, you can give it to me next time. I'll bring one myself though so you don't have to tear this place upside down to find one." That made Tommy chuckle.

And so, Wilbur returned home once more.

THIS IS SO GOOD MEL OMG!!!

Pls read this it’s amazing and so well done, I love the rust server and this is so good :D

Some Zelink parenting to make me feel better. Happy Mother's Day to the mothers.

Superpower

Words: 2094

"Link," Zelda said, "Can you hold the baby for Rhondson? She's agreed to fit me for that cold-weather gear we agreed on."

I gave her a swift nod and cautiously took the sleeping bundle. Rhondson spent a moment adjusting my arms and grip before she gave my head a pat and bustled behind a partition with Zelda.

I let the two women's discussion of what color and cut would be best for our adventures fade to the back of my mind as I wandered around the recently expanded shop. Rhondson had moved on from just Gerudo styles to add some Rito cloth (likely due to Fyson's enterprising) and even a few water-resistant options. None were as good as my Zora armor, but still quality fabric.

Zelda and I have spent the last several years touring Hyrule and stitching the disparate peoples into one community. Zelda steered any discussion of retaking the throne to a more democratic direction and, after we married, I understood her fear and supported democracy wholeheartedly. So instead, we found ourselves working as neutral parties and messengers throughout Hyrule.

The Rito outgrew their village a generation ago but resisted expansion into Hebra while the calamity ruled. Zelda and I were preparing for an extended survey of the mountains for a suitable location to build a new town.

I slowly circled the shop again and gave the baby a gentle bounce when Rhondson and Zelda's conversation turned into an argument.

"Rhondson! I'm going to be out in the wild for weeks! Roughing it! Sleeping in tents! Climbing mountains!"

"Just be careful! If you watch where you step then it shouldn't matter. You're the Princess! I won't have you leave this shop in anything but my best work! Besides, you said your jacket was white Before!"

"Hyrule is a democracy!"

I gave a little cough to remind them that other people exist. Zelda stepped out from behind the partition without a shirt on and glared at me. I smiled and covered the sleeping baby's eyes with one hand.

"Zelda!" I scolded, "Madison will see!"

She stuck her nose in the air and spoke to Rhondson without looking away or moving out of sight.

"Fine. Just do the pink then. Anything but white."

I smirked and tried to cover it by looking down and pretending to be fascinated by Madison's habit of sleeping while I'm holding her. Zelda hated pink. When I chanced a glance back up I saw immediately that I did not trick her and the thoughtful look on her face meant she was already planning her revenge.

---

Her revenge sucked. For me, anyway, I'm sure she enjoyed herself. My beautiful Rito set of winter gear was dyed. The jacket was a horrendous yellow and, predictably, the pants were pink. Every time she caught sight of me she started laughing. Worst of all, she clearly used some of our best ingredients to dye her pink jacket to a nice shade of dark blue so I'm the only one looking ridiculous.

The Rito children all loved my colorful appearance when we returned with our survey results. Kaneli was polite enough not to comment, but pretty much everyone else in the village did and by the time I got to the children I gave up and just let them hang on me and enjoy the mismatched clothes.

Zelda flashed me another smile at the sight of my clothes but stayed out of the fray with Amali.

"Mister Link? I'm tired."

"That's good," I said, "It's pretty late, so you're supposed to be tired."

Cree thought hard about what I said for a minute. Her little face scrunched up and I subtly glanced at my wife. She was glaring again. Cree gave a nod and wandered off to her bed with a sleepy "'night Mister Link" and the rest of the children followed her out. I gave Zelda my full attention.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

I sighed. She'd tell me eventually. Or maybe not. Sometimes she forgot. I suppressed a smile at the thought. She'd been ridiculous lately, but after the stress of this trip is out of her system I was certain she would get back to her usual self.

---

Zelda did eventually get back to her usual self. By the time we got back to Hateno, Zelda was on another project and writing furiously in her journal. For once she wasn't letting me in on the project and didn't think out loud other than complete incomprehensible gibberish. The notebook she was using had lists drawn up of completely random words under number headings with no context.

Whatever she was into this time was pretty big and was taking all her energy. She didn't consult books which probably meant she was working on ancient technology again. That's the only subject she knew better than any book written. Eventually, I decided I needed to say something. She wasn't taking proper care of herself. She was eating well, but she wasn't out walking as much and it showed a little. She would be angry with herself when she pulled out of her project and found herself unable to hike up to the tech lab with me.

"Zel? Want to come up to the pond with me? We can go swimming."

"No, sorry, I'm a little busy today."

"You've been busy a lot lately. What have you been working on?"

Zelda looked nervous when she flipped the pages back and turned them to face me. I looked curiously at the lists she's been working on.

"One... Significant people... Sleep... Sitting... What is this?"

"Developmental milestones."

I still didn't understand. She grimaced and pushed her hair back from where it had fallen in front of her eyes. It revealed the dark circles from lack of sleep.

"For children."

"Oh..." I looked at the list again, "Did Amali ask for help? Is something wrong with one of the girls?"

"No, it's not for her... It's for us."

I was going through each girl one at a time and considering the items on the list. None of them stuck out to me.

"I wanted a clear timeline. Amali said there wasn't a book on how to raise a child, but I'm so worried about forgetting something so I figured I would write everything I could think of down and ask as many people as possible."

It took a minute for her words to filter into my head. I decided that Kheel was a little behind her sisters, but that was fine because she was the youngest. And Madison was too little still for most everything on the list. My muscles seized up and my breath started coming quicker. I spent one terrifying moment tense without knowing why I was so afraid.

"For... us..."

The room was tilting. This must be what Zelda means when she says she doesn't like being on the Sheikah towers.

"Yes, Link. Who else would I do this for?"

Okay. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Zelda was still talking. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Make sure you understand.

"You're pregnant." I said, confirming.

"Yes."

"With a baby."

She scrunched her nose at me.

"Yes with a baby. What else would I be pregnant with?"

I finally looked up into her eyes and her whole face softened at me.

"Oh, Link, don't panic. Yes, I'm pregnant. We're going to have a little baby here next spring. You're going to be a wonderful father."

My heart stuttered in its rhythm at the word "father." My hyperventilating stopped. My breathing stopped. Something wet hit my cheeks and I realized I was crying. I looked through blurry eyes at Zelda and saw her smiling back at me.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just panicked. And I thought you'd stop our Hebra survey early if you knew."

The happiness I had started to recognize was immediately shoved out of the way for my terror.

"You were pregnant!" I fairly screeched in her face. I opened my mouth to shout at her some more, but nothing came out. I didn't have words that matched my fear so I closed my mouth and stared at her with wide eyes. The hyperventilating was back.

---

I was unbearable. I know I was because Zelda told me so repeatedly. I was mostly fine until it became obvious that she was pregnant. Something about the visual of a bump made the child more real than her words ever could.

We visited Kakariko, but I refused to take her further afield than that. Madison was almost a year old now and we hadn't seen her since before I knew of Zelda's pregnancy. Rhondson sent letters and I know Zelda wanted opinions from another woman who had recently given birth, but it was too far and too dangerous. I flat-out refused to let her teleport with the Slate. She was so angry with me that she kicked me out of the house and I had to spend the night at our cookpot. I told her I took a room at the inn. When I tried to convince her to let me move the bed downstairs she finally put her foot down and I was left to grumble.

She's due in a couple weeks and I've timed myself at running to the midwife. It takes seven minutes for me to get there and it will probably be more to bring her back.

Zelda had her feet up in front of the fire since the winter chill hadn't quite left Hateno yet despite the start of spring. Her hand was rubbing gentle circles into her stomach.

"Link, I need your superpowers."

I smiled at our little joke. My skill at putting children to sleep extended to settling an unborn child's kicking. I sat on the floor next to her and leaned my head cautiously against her just in case the baby decided to kick me in the face. Again.

"Come on, kid. Your mom needs some rest." I took over the circling with my hand and hummed the lullaby Zelda taught me.

Zelda sucked in a sharp breath. I hummed a little louder and used my free hand to take hers and gave it a squeeze.

"Link?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't panic..."

I immediately tensed at the words and looked up at her. Her eyes were tense and a grimace was frozen on her face.

"I need you to go get the midwife."

"You're not due yet," I said stupidly, "we have another two weeks."

Zelda gasped again. I shot to my feet and hovered over her.

"Okay, okay," I said, "Just... Stay here... I'll... Okay..."

I rushed to the door and wrenched it open. Seven minutes plus however much time it takes to get back. I glance back at Zelda. It goes against the grain to leave her in pain. Maybe this is why the other Hero's didn't marry their Zelda.

---

Purah heard my headlong flight through town for the midwife and came down to visit after a few hours. The midwife roped her into helping with the birth and kicked me out of the house. I ended up waiting at the cookpot again while Symin filled the silence.

I shook like a leaf at the sound of Zelda's shouts and gasps. The wooden door only muffled so much. But the moment my child cried nothing could keep me out. I slammed the door open and rushed to the midwife. The woman had no patience for my "hysteria." She made me wait while the baby was cleaned and swaddled.

Zelda was exhausted. She was damp with sweat and weak. I held her hand and pushed her wet hair from her face. I could only glance at her occasionally. My attention was caught by the screaming child at our kitchen table. My child. Our child. The midwife brought the bundle of cloth to us and placed it in Zelda's arms. I helped her keep ahold of the baby - her arms were about ready to give out. The child barely paused for breath between cries.

"Link?" Zelda said, "I need your superpowers."

My hands shook as I arranged my arms as Rhondson had taught me and Zelda carefully passed the bundle to me. I hummed the tune I had been using for months and my superpower held. The cries lessened, but wide blue eyes blinked at me instead of closing in sleep. After so much time worried about pregnant Zelda that I didn't think to worry about my child. I was going to be unbearable.

A daughter.

Bothersome Beams in Sirena’s Sickbay

You know how I’ve drawn a clean layout of the Captain’s Quarters to make it reflect the room as seen on screen by e.g. erasing the false door, adding in furniture and marks for the windows, etc? I've been doing that for a bunch of other places as well (toooootally not because I’m procrastinating the two Deep Dives I should be working on....), and a few days ago I started on sickbay. And now I'm stuck.

I've been staring at this so long my brain is turning to mush, so now you all get to suffer with me!

(Fair warning: there be loads of extremely pedantic observations ahead. I hope you like staring at deck plans :D)

This is the outline of sickbay on the deck plans from the blu-ray Set Me Up featurette:

(For orientation and because it will become important later: The front of the ship is on the right-hand side, the back is on the left.)

A quick reminder of the relevant main features: the round part of sickbay has walls that slope outward towards the top, a counter running along the wall around 2/5 of the way up, and three support beams cutting through the wall and the counter.

(Note that in reality, the beams are all straight across the top; they just appear curved here due to lense distortion.)

Looking at the concentric circles in the outline above, let’s try to figure out what’s what. Easiest: the broken grey lines, i.e. the largest two circles, surely must be where the wall meets the ceiling at its widest extension. (Here marked in blue.)

Next, when we look at the transition between the rectangular alcove at the back of the room (marked “med bay” in the plan) and the round “lab area”, we see that it’s smooth and there is no step in between.

(Again: the walls are straight, not curved, it looks that way because of lense effects.)

Given that and the thickness of the line, I think it’s safe to assume this is the outline of the wall, most likely at floor level:

These, as far as I can tell, are the windows at the front of the room, next to the door.

As you can see, they extend almost to the top of the wall and stop short of the unidentified outer circle. Looking at a screenshot...

...the windows sit right above the counter, so it makes sense that the remaining lines would be the outline of said counter (here in green):

So far so good.

Here’s the rub. I was trying to figure out what the vertical lines dividing the counter next to the support beams might be, when I noticed these four bits:

Those look like the places where the support beams cut through the counter.

That makes sense, right?

As you’ve probably noticed before, these beams run throughout the entire ship. We see them everywhere on the upper and lower deck, they are clearly the skeleton that holds Sirena together. You can tell how important they are to the structural integrity because all the deck plans have these vertical, broken grey lines to indicate where the beams are located.

Now, take another look at the markings where the beam towards the back of the room cuts through the counter (I magnified the one on the bottom left):

As you can see pretty clearly, the marking in the counter doesn’t line up with the normal position of the beams, indicated by the broken grey lines. It isn’t off by much. My rough estimate so far is that the beams are about a foot wide with seven feet between them, so this is a difference of maybe 15cm (~6″, apparently). But something is clearly strange here.

You can tell there’s something different at the back of the room, because where the beams in the middle and front are marked by long rectangles, the one in the back is only a small square. It looks almost as if there was only a single column on either side. If that was the case, it would probably mean that the beam at the back of the room was a fake, not technically connected to the beams at the rest of the ship like the middle and front ones.

But does that mean it was also moved a few centimetres further to the front? This has been driving me nuts.

There are a few possible explanations for what might be happening here.

1. I am wrong about those being the markers for where the beams cut through the counter. That is entirely possible.

2. Some changes were made to the set that aren’t yet reflected in this version of the layout. As I said elsewhere, these plans aren’t quite accurate to the final set in all details (e.g. the two steps between the mess hall and sickbay aren’t marked), so it’s possible that this is some intermediate version where the counter design varies a little from its final configuration.

3. The support beams at the back of sickbay do not line up with the beams in the rest of the ship. The production designers decided that they wanted sickbay to be the exact size we see in the plans, but for some logistical or aesthetic reason, having the beams at the back of the room in the logical position (i.e. parallel to the ones on the upper deck) didn’t work, so they moved them forward a little bit.

I cannot tell you how long I spent over the weekend trying to make heads or tails of this. 

At first I thought: Well, obviously the beams must have been moved to the front. The grey line marking where they should be goes right across the front of the rectangular bit of the room. They’d block the way if they were in the “correct” place, right?

Except I realized my spatial reasoning is woefully inadequate when trying to visualize a round room with sloped walls, so I did the only reasonable thing: I taught myself how to use SketchUp (again) to make a very, very crude 3D sketch of the relevant sections of this room.

Turns out: when you put the beam exactly where it’s supposed to go, it does actually work out okay. I know it’s a little too small here compared to what it should be...

...but that’s probably more due to my estimates for the thickness of the beams and especially the height of the room being off.

I did another version where I moved the beam forward so it sits where the counter is marked on the deck plan, and the difference is pretty negligible:

It looks a little closer to what we see on screen, but again, that’s probably more a miscalculation issue than an honest-to-god result.

As a last-ditch effort I had another look through my screenshot collection. My thinking was that if the beam was moved forward slightly from where it was “supposed” to be, that would mean we’d see more of it.

(On the left, the beam lines up with the grey lines. The area where it intersects with the counter (solid red) is smaller than in the right-hand example, where the beam was moved to align with the marking in the counter.)

Likewise, the distance the beams extend under the counter would be different, if not by much.

(The beam on the right is moved slightly towards the middle of the room. You can see that it dips lower than the beam on the left, which is in the “correct” position.)

If this was the case we should be able to see it in the screenshots, right? Except...

This is the view towards the front of the room. It’s difficult to tell with the perspective, but I don’t think there is much of a difference in how far the beam towards the front of the room (far right) and the one at the back of the room (far left) extend below the counter?

Maaayyybe there’s a difference there? But then again, if you compare how far they dip below the tops of the chests of drawers, that seems pretty similar...

And this is the point where I decided this insanity had gone on long enough and I should probably stop before my brain got entirely scrambled (since, sadly, I don’t have an EMH to unscramble it for me).

So, what’s the takeaway here?

1.: Short of somebody from the production team giving confirmation either way, we won’t know what happened here. I might have misread the set plan, the plan might have changed, or the beams might have been moved. It will have to remain a mystery until we get more shots with incontrovertible evidence, or somebody takes a measuring tape to the set and reports back ;9

2.: For the purposes of drawing a layout of sickbay, I’m going to assume the beams are in the correct position, since that makes more sense in-universe. I’ll move the counter markings accordingly. If I have to make a correction to that at some point, at least I have done the legwork and can refer back to this post instead of having to explain the whole issue again.

3.: Yes, I did just spend half the weekend obsessing over 15 centimetres, to the point where I taught myself SketchUp (again) and wrote a way too long blog post (I did warn you ;9 ), only to come to the conclusion that, as we say over here: “Nichts Genaues weiß man nicht.” - I guess we’ll never know. I have absolutely no regrets!

And finally 4.: staring at images of sickbay for hours on end really makes you appreciate just how beautiful that space is. Scroll up again and have a look at the screenshots. The way the circle repeats in the lights and the table and the concentric markings on the floor. The intricate holograms projected by the ceiling lights. The plants and tools all along the counters that give the room so much texture and make it seem like a real, lived-in place. The way the crisp black and white paint on the beams and the gleaming floor contrast with the cared-for but scuffed up plating and worn-off red paint all over the rest of Sirena... I just really love this ship, okay?

Anyway. If you have any thoughts on this, or you’ve noticed something I missed, I’d love to hear about it!

I was about to say “I promise the next post will be shorter”, but who are we kidding? My brain doesn’t do brief. And what is this blog for if not extremely rambly analyses that give us all an excuse to ogle screenshots of La Sirena for a few minutes?

Ice Cream Expertise (All the Little Lights #1)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Kawoshin

Rating: G

Summary: Shinji is faced with a dilemma of sorts, and is characteristically indecisive. Fortunately, Kaworu is there to give some helpful advice. Or maybe just call himself an ice cream expert. Let's be honest, it's a bit of both.

Notes: This is intended to be the start to All the Little Lights, my attempt at a relatively happy Evangelion high school AU featuring the pilots we know (and maybe love) actually getting to live a normal life (including all the cute gay romance they deserve). That said, it also works totally fine as a one shot. Considering it's an AU, there's going to be some rather interesting deviations from canon, some of which are alluded to here. So, if something seems off, that's probably because it is.

As usual, any errors, grammatical or typographical, are mine. I apologize in advance.

This was originally posted to my old AO3 on May 21, 2020. I hope you enjoy it!

_________________________________________________________

Shinji Ikari was not having a good day. No, perhaps that was an understatement. He was having a distinctly bad day. School had been tedious to say the least, considering that testing week was approaching, and the teachers seemed to be doing their best to “prepare” the students using every form of academic torture known to humankind. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had been a hectic hell all the same. Not to mention the fact that his best friend Touji was going through a rough patch (not the first one, mind you), with his girlfriend Hikari, which led to a tense mood within their friend group outside of class as well. Adding onto this was the fact that he was getting worried about his sister (what wasn’t new?) Rei, who had been especially quiet the past week or so, even by her standards. That was usually a sign that her depression was going through a rough spot. He had wanted to mention something to his mother about it, considering she usually had better luck at getting through to Rei than he did when his sister was going through a difficult time, but unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He was gone too often, and his mother was gone too often. There was all of a one to two hour period when they were both home and awake on any given night. Rei always ending up alone probably doesn’t help her state of mind improve either. I wish she had more friends. People she could connect with.

And, of course, to top all that wonderful baggage off, he had had work after school, which had gone lovely. Just lovely. A simply wonderful group of customers had come in, and stayed for a better part of three hours, ordering intermittently while they all talked (way too loudly, in his opinion) at their shared table, which, in a predictable move, they hadn’t even bothered to clean off. He was a barista, not a waiter, despite what some people seemed to think. To make matters worse, they had been laughing so hard partway through their “discussion,” that one of the party had practically flung her iced latte through the air by accident (how someone could do that by accident, was a whole other topic for conversation), sending its contents flying halfway across the room (in a bafflingly impressive display, he had to admit, as irritating as it was). Of course, he had drawn the short straw and been the one tasked with cleaning it up. His boss seemed to get a special satisfaction out of giving Shinji all the “fun,” jobs. Okay, maybe Mr. Anno’s not that bad, but he still gets a kick out of watching me suffer. Or something like that.

Shinji sighed as he pulled his car into the store parking spot. As he exited it, he glanced down at his phone. 7:16. That meant he should have enough time to get home and get dinner going before his mother got home. These days, it seemed as though she worked progressively later and later. It had been a couple months since she’d been home before 8. She was almost certainly still out at the base at that moment. Whatever project she’s working on now is one of the more intensive ones.

He headed for the doors. He was planning on making stir fry, which meant that he needed to get soy sauce for sure, since he knew they had run out from the last time. He thought they had most of the rest of what he needed at home. So, this should be a quick run. Just in and out. After a day like today though, he was tempted to grab something sweet. Come on, after this whole mess, I think I at least half deserve something to take my mind off of it. Just a little.

Inside, he made a bee line for the condiments aisle. Alright, first things first. Get what I need. Then, maybe, I’ll just check out what they have. He grabbed soy sauce, and then wavered for a moment, trying to decide just for what he was in the mood. Okay, just something little. Nothing too big. I am going to be cooking, after all. Hmmm . . . I mean, it’s probably not the best idea, but . . .

Making his decision, he set off for the frozen section. Once again, he paused when he arrived at the aisle, looking through the glass freezer doors at the available options. I’ll just get a pint. That should be more than enough. Even if Rei goes for some too. ‘Cause mom hardly ever eats anything sweet, so I doubt she’ll have any. He tilted his head, tapping the soy sauce bottle against his thigh as he considered the selection. Why are there so many flavors? I didn’t even realize they sold Pumpkin outside of November. And Lime-Raspberry? What would that even taste like? Who comes up with these things? I’ll go for something classic. I could always do Vanilla. But, that’s a little boring. I don’t even really like it that much. Chocolate’s always classic, except that Rei doesn’t like it. And her favorite is Cookie Dough, which I don’t like the texture of . . . there are way too many choices here. Running his eyes over the racks, he did a quick count. Forty-two different flavors. Why are there forty-two different flavors? I wonder if anyone’s ever tried them all. Then again, that might take a while. And be kind of pricey. Dammit, I’m getting distracted again. The only conclusion that Shinji was coming to was the fact that he liked ice cream far too much, and was wasting far more time than he should be trying to pick out something. Maybe I should just get the soy sauce and head home. He peaked down at his phone. 7:29. Yeah, I’ve already been here longer than I should be.

A voice interrupted Shinji’s thoughts. “So, what’s your drug of choice?”

Shinji head snapped to the side, his concentration broken. “What?,” He asked, a little surprised.

The source of the interruption was standing a little further down the aisle, casually leaning on one of the freezer windows, his head cocked to the side, watching Shinji with a friendly smile on his face. Shinji thought the interrupter looked to be about the same age as him, though that fact was complicated slightly by the fact that though his face was youthful, his hair was an ashen grey. He must dye it. Is grey hair a style though? The interrupting individual sported a pair of black jeans and a band shirt for a group whose name looked vaguely familiar to Shinji. Porcupine Tree . . . I feel like Rei might listen to them. Maybe. Not to mention the fact that the newcomer had red eyes. Red eyes. Okay, so maybe this is a look he’s going for. I mean, those are definitely contacts, right? Unless there’s a genetic mutation I’ve never heard of, I don’t think humans can be born with red eyes. Which means that they’re contacts. Which means that the hair is almost definitely dyed too. I’m pretty sure that’s not what ‘scene’ looks like . . . there’d be brighter colors . . . and I don’t think it’s emo either . . . I’m pretty sure his hair would be black then . . . huh . . . maybe that’s goth. Yeah. Let’s go with that. In addition to making him second guess what scene fashion looked like, Shinji’s visual analysis of the interrupter also led him to a more definite conclusion. That regardless of what category his fashion fell under, he was pretty cute. Seriously Shinji, focus here, and stop thinking about how some random boy in Safeway who asked you what type of drugs you like is cute. Don’t be an idiot. Sure, you haven’t been on a date in months, ever since Martin broke up with you, but he was a manipulative jerk anyway— Shinji realized the interrupter had started talking again, which snapped him back into reality and out of his wandering mind.

“Yeah. What flavor is your favorite. I mean, out of the forty-two, there has to be one you’d pick, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably cookies ’n’ cream,” Shinji answered, feeling more than a bit confused. On an afterthought, he added, “You’ve counted all the flavors too?”

“Not a bad choice,” the boy said with a firm nod. “Although, I’m more into mint chocolate chip myself. And yes, I’ve counted them all. It’s an important part to being an ice cream expert. Keeping track of the available flavors at the nearest store.”

“Okaayyy.” Shinji’s tone betrayed his uncertainty concerning just how he should deal with this stranger. “Ice cream expert?”

“Yep, that would be me,” the boy replied matter-of-factly, as though the question was a pointless one. He strolled over to Shinji and extended his hand. “Kaworu Akagi, ice cream expert, at your service.”

Shinji shook the offered hand, deciding he should be polite, despite the fact that his perplexity had not been substantially diminished in any way. This guy is . . . interesting, to say the least. As their hands met, Shinji was struck by the strange, but intense, sense that this wasn’t his first time meeting Kaworu.

“Shinji Ikari.” Against his better judgement, he decided to follow his introduction with, “Have we met before?”

Retracting his hand, Kaworu pursed his lips, ostensibly mulling over the question in his mind. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not that I can recall. I just got into town a few days ago. Why do you ask?”

Shinji shrugged, trying to play off his earlier question. “Oh, I think you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Kaworu nodded, seeming to accept this answer. “Ah, that makes sense. So, have you come to a conclusion, or would you like a second opinion?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow. “About the ice cream, you mean?”

“Indeed. That is the topic on the floor, as they say,” Kaworu responded nonchalantly.

Shinji blinked. “Who says?”

“Why, they do of course.”

“Oh. Umm, alright.” Shinji looked back through the window, surveying his options once more. A obvious choice didn’t present itself. “Well . . . I suppose a second opinion probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great,” Kaworu stated, his tone even and pleasant. “Any occasion in particular you’re buying for?”

Shinji shook his head. “Nope, not really. Just . . .” he hesitated, uncertain how much he wanted to tell someone who was still basically a stranger to him. “Just a bad day,” was what he ended up deciding on.

Kaworu pretended to stroke nonexistent hairs on his chin, nodding slowly as did so, in an amusing imitation of the stereotypical philosopher. “Hmm . . . ice cream for a bad day, you say?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’d have to recommend Cherry Chip for that. It’s a guaranteed mood improver from my experience. It is nearly impossible to feel down while you’re eating Cherry Chip ice cream.”

“Really?” Shinji’s ice wandered down the display, finally locating the flavor in question. Fortunately, they had it in pint size, which meant that the option was on the table. He couldn’t think of any reason not to go for it. As far as he knew, Rei liked Cherry Chip. At least, he thought she did. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever seen her eat it. For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever eaten it himself. Which means it might be pretty good, and I just don’t know it yet. You never know. “Really. Trust me, I’ve tested its potency. It won’t let you down.”

“Alright. Why not?” Shinji opened the door and grabbed a pint of Cherry Chip. He examined the container in his hands for a few seconds, before looking back up at Kaworu, who now seemed to be smiling in encouragement, which had the effect of making him look even cuter than before. Come on Shinji, don’t get distracted! Sure, he might be attractive, but he’s also a self-proclaimed ice cream expert. . . not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing yet, to be honest.

“That’ll do the job,” Kaworu remarked, in a straightforward tone that made it sound as though he was utterly confident in the truth of his words.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Shinji furrowed his brow as another question popped into his mind. “Hey .. . you said you just got into town a few days ago. How is it that you already know all the different flavors they have here?”

“It was one of the first things I scoped out after we got into town. Always important to know what kind of ice cream game you’re going to be dealing with. Plus, I had plenty of free time once we finished unpacking, considering I won’t be in school up here until the fall.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Almost on a whim, Shinji was tempted to ask Kaworu where he had moved from, but decided that could come across as prying a little too much, since Kaworu hadn’t offered that information. As it was, Kaworu gave a partial answer to the question without Shinji even verbalizing it.

“School down south ends earlier. Though, to be fair, it also starts earlier there as well. We left a couple days after my semester ended. Which means I currently have relatively few obligations, other than locating and obtaining a job for the summer.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Shinji still wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, but he decided to field a question of his own. He figured it could come across as a polite inquiry, rather than being nosy, taking into account what Kaworu had just revealed. “So, what brought you up north?”

“My mother got transferred out to the base,” Kaworu returned offhandedly.

Shinji tilted his head in response to this answer, the gears in his brain turning. Well, that’s interesting. He almost wanted to make some sort of follow-up remark expressing their similarity in that regard, but he decided that might be a bit too much to say for the moment. Instead, he merely offered a casually, “I gotcha.” He continued with an amiable, “Well, welcome to Asherdale,” along with a more ironic, “It’s halfway decent, once you get used to it.”

Kaworu’s face broken into a grin at the humor, an expression that Shinji couldn’t help but feel made him look all the more attractive. Oops, getting distracted again. . . don’t do that . . . too much.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Kaworu said warmly.

“No problem.” The thought suddenly entering his mind, Shinji shot a momentary glance down at his phone. Hmm, what time is it? The answer was 7:37. 7:37?! I’ve been talking for eight minutes?! That felt like four or five at the most. I have to bail, now, if I’m going to make it home in time to get cooking.

He looked back up at Kaworu, who was still watching him, his gaze soft, the smile still on his face, his head tilted to the side. Shinji had the strange feeling that if it had been anyone else, the observational pose the boy had struck would have looked unusual, to say the least, but somehow, on Kaworu, it didn’t look half bad. It gives him a kind of elegant aesthetic . . . okay, where did I come up with that? I definitely need to head out.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry to leave so quick, but I need to get going.” Shinji cringed a little internally, hearing the awkward tone in his voice. You could have said that in a way that didn’t basically announced the fact that it made you flustered. Great going.

“Understandable. You wouldn’t want that ice cream to melt before you get the chance to test out its powers.”

“Haha, yeah, you know it.”

Kaworu nodded, imply that yes, he did indeed know it. “Why don’t I give you my number?” He remarked. “That way, you’ll have someone on hand for any future ice cream dilemmas.”

“Ahhh . . .” Okay, that was actually kind of smooth, in an odd way. And . . . it’s not like it could really hurt anything. I mean, he didn’t even ask for my number. Which means he’s not even necessarily flirting with me. It’d probably be a bit of stretch to say he is. After all, if I have his number, and he doesn’t have mine, that means I can choose whether I want to text him or not, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Which isn’t really a good way to flirt with somebody. I think I’m stalling again here . . .”

Shinji noticed Kaworu was watching him again, waiting for a response. “Sure. Sounds like a good plan.” He pulled out his phone and hastily created a new contact, before offering it to Kaworu. “Here, you can put it in.”

Kaworu nodded, his smile remaining intact, and typed in the digits, before handing it back to Shinji. “It was nice to meet you, Shinji Ikari,” he commented affably.

“You can just call me Shinji,” Shinji quickly responded.

“Alright then. It was nice to meet you Shinji.”

“You too . . .” Should I use first and last name like he did the first time? Or just go with first name. I don’t want to offend him, if that’s the sort of thing that’s important to him. After all, he does seem a bit, umm, particular.

“You can just call me Kaworu,” the boy suggested, his smile widening.

“It was nice to meet you Kaworu,” he finished lamely. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, maybe so.”

Shinji nodded again, spun on his heels, and promptly made for the registers. Well, that went excellently. You meet a boy who’s kind of cute, even if he is a little eccentric, and straight off the bat, you’re second guessing yourself and fumbling for words. Fantastic.

Shinji shot a brief glance back as he reached the end of the aisle, to see that Kaworu was now retrieving an ice cream carton of his own from the merchandise freezer. Shinji turned away again before the boy could look back in his direction. Don’t want him to think I’m staring at him or something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinji collapsed back onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He was glad to have finally reach it, after the nigh-interminable day. Well, maybe not quite interminable. But definitely overlong. Without much thought, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and spun in about in his hands a couple times, feeling the sensation of the textured case against his skin.

Dinner had been a success, such as it could be, anyway. He had impressed himself with just how fast he managed to throw things together when he went into slight (well, maybe more than slight) panic mode.

The ice cream had been a success as well. He had to admit, Cherry Chip was a pretty good flavor. He still wasn’t sure whether he had tried it before or not, but he was glad he had definitively tried it now. Rei had also enjoyed it, which was an added plus. In fact, their mother had even had a bowl, something altogether unexpected. Apparently, Cherry Chip ice cream was one of the sweets she would indulge in. Didn’t see that coming. All in all, the majority of the pint was no more.

Powering on his phone, Shinji was faced with another choice for the evening. Unlike his earlier ice cream deliberation, however, this cerebration was of a cursory duration. After a few seconds, he had composed the text, and was hovering over the send button. Alright. Let’s do this. He tapped the icon.

Shinji I.: Thanks for the recommendation. It was a good choice! Lol. This is Shinji, btw.

The response to his message came swiftly. Wow, he must type fast.

Kaworu A.: Happy to be of service. I’m glad it worked out.

Shinji found a smile edging its way across his lips. Maybe, in spite of everything, today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Clone Trooper Rambles

Part journal, part creative writing, fully weird. Also, this one is really long. Other rambles can be found here.

Bad Dream

“Hey, are you okay?” Echo asked gently, stepping a bit faster to walk beside me.

“Yeah, of course,” I told him with a smile. “Why do you ask?”

“You haven’t spoken in an hour and a half,” Trapper answered for Echo, walking on his other side. 

“Oh.” I thought about it for a moment. “I think I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“You don’t say,” Crosshair said sourly. “I thought you made a habit of waking up gasping at three in the morning.”

“It was an unusually vivid dream,” I admitted, embarrassed for a reason I couldn’t quite pin down.

“Do you remember any of it?” Echo asked, stepping over a rough section of ground.

“Not much, but there was one thing…” I shivered, but cut myself off with a laugh. “It’s probably nothing.”

“What is?” Crosshair sounded less than thrilled to be asking, but all of the troopers eyed me expectantly. 

I frowned, scrubbing tiredly at my face. “Uh… I remember someone laughing.”

“Laughing?” Trapper repeated. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“You wouldn’t think so,” I agreed slowly. “And then this guy told me, ‘He’s looking for you. He’s going to find you. You can’t hide from him.’ That sort of thing.”

“Who can’t you hide from?” Echo’s posture had straightened slightly. 

I shook my head. “Probably no one. I was reading something mysterious before I went to sleep and that probably caused it.”

“You look… scared,” Trapper observed hesitantly. “Are you sure you have no idea who the guy was talking about? Or who the guy was?”

“It could be- Well, not really, though. The guy talking was…” I thought back, trying to capture the wispy strands of the dream even as it was slipping away as half-remembered dreams tend to do. Like a camera flash, I could see the face of the man who had been warning me. 

I didn’t know him, not that I could remember, but he was certainly dead. Not only that, but his mouth had been strange, almost like it had been cut.

“Miss me, sweets?” a voice whispered in my ear.

I jumped, hard. I couldn’t help it. 

“What is it?” Echo asked urgently.

I was already absorbed in studying the immediate area. “Hang on, I need to concentrate,” I muttered absently.

Metaphysics are hard to explain. In this particular case, it was like scanning everything around me, but not visually. I was looking for a general sense of something, a trace rather than a person. It took quite a bit of focus, but the adrenaline was working in my favor.

“We need to call Captain Rex,” Trapper said decisively.

“I’ll do it,” Crosshair instantly agreed, lifting his comlink to his mouth even as he eyed the area with suspicion.

Dimly, I recognized that the three troopers had all put their helmets on, and both Echo and Crosshair had lowered their rangefinders. Each man held at least one blaster, scanning the area with their eyes at least as hard as I was doing with whatever metaphysical nonsense I could manage.

When Rex joined us, he did so at a brisk walk, dual blasters drawn and rangefinder down. Clearly, Crosshair had managed to brief him on the situation. What he knew of it, anyway.

“What’s going on?” Rex asked, clearly tense.

“We were talking about the dream she had last night,” Echo told him. “She jumped like she had been shot and she hasn’t said much or moved at all since.”

Rex was standing directly in front of me a moment later. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can,” I told him distantly. “Hang on…”

“We need to move somewhere more protected than this,” Rex told the troopers, seeming to recognize that I was absorbed in something else. “Send out an all-call, put all troopers on alert.”

“For what?” Crosshair asked.

“There’s a threat,” Rex answered grimly. “I don’t know what it is yet, but I can feel it.”

I finished scanning the area and nodded. “Let’s get somewhere a little more private. There are some things I probably should tell you.”

Rex had already started moving by the time I finished speaking, the contingent of guards traveling with us as we walked. “I’m going to have Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Boss, and Hunter meet us. They’ll need to be briefed on the situation as well.”

In a very short amount of time, we were all hidden away in a semi-secluded area. Everyone wore their helmets, but I could feel the expectant looks and took a deep breath before I got started. 

“I’ve told you guys that you aren’t the first group of characters who shows up for me. Almost every story I’ve written has been with a character talking in my ear. Well, there was one… he wasn’t… uh, he wasn’t good for me, I guess you’d say. He’s called the Joker.”

No one moved, so I kept talking. “I was writing a one-shot about him and it went pretty smoothly. He’s insane, but he can be charming when he wants to be. When it gives him an advantage. Well, I wrote it and posted it and there was a good response. People wanted more and he agreed to help me write more of the story.”

“That’s where things went bad,” I said, dropping my gaze to the ground. It was easier than looking anyone in the face when I admitted my own stupidity. “He was always around, saying and doing the most twisted things. The more I wrote for him, the more I started to think like him. I don’t have much experience with insanity - other than the whole character thing - but I think I was getting close to something bad happening to my mind.”

“The worst part is, I can’t even blame him,” I laughed as I said it, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I knew who he was and that he thinks it’s fun to make people go as crazy as he is. I knew better, but I got caught up in writing a good story. It was more my fault than his.”

“When I figured out what was happening, I ended the story,” I finished. “There were supposed to be five more chapters or so, but I couldn’t keep writing for him. I was scared of losing myself. I ended the story and shut him out. It was hard, probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the worst part is that it didn’t entirely… work. He still pops up every now and then.”

“Pops up,” Rex repeated tonelessly.

“Yeah,”I agreed. “He just comes in, torments me for a while, tries to break my mind, and leaves when I can force him away. It has happened three or four times in the past few years. I just need to know when he’s coming so I can be ready. The dream may have been a sign that he’ll be here soon. Don’t worry, though - I’ll handle him. You guys just lay low for a week or two and I’ll get him out as soon as I can.”

“We aren’t going to do that,” Cody said slowly, glancing around at the other commanding officers. “We’re here. We may be able to put a stop to this guy once and for all.”

“You can’t do that,” I told him flatly. “I don’t think any of you guys can be killed in your current state. If I do something that harms someone badly enough that they die - not that I do that on purpose - they just forget what they’ve done here and come back with no memory. They just start over.”

“We can give him something else to focus on, then,” Boss offered.

“Blaster bolts can be pretty distracting,” Wolffe agreed menacingly.

“He’ll try to kill you,” I warned them. “I can’t take the risk that anyone will get hurt.”

“You just said we can’t be hurt,” Hunter reminded.

I had to stop for a moment. That was an excellent point and a flaw in my logic that I hadn’t previously considered. “Maybe you guys can hurt each other since you’re in a different plane? If he’s on the same plane, he could hurt you.”

“But then we’d be able to hurt him,” Rex said. “And there are a lot more of us than there are of him.”

“Let us help you,” Cody requested gently. I shot him a look, reminded that he had served with Obi-Wan Kenobi for most of the war. “Please.”

“I… I can’t ask all of you to take this risk,” I said eventually.

“What if we made it a volunteer effort?” Fox asked. “Only men who understand the risks and agree to continue guard duty will watch for him.”

“That might work,” I agreed, disgruntled by the neat way that had worked out.

“Good,” Rex said. “Tell me everything about the Joker, I’ll brief the men about him, and build a list of volunteers. For now, I’m assigning at least one man from each battalion to guard you. Today is considered high-risk. If you see anything suspicious, tell them and we’ll send backup to your location.”

Less than two hours later, Rex cheerfully reported that every trooper had volunteered to stay on guard duty, even fully understanding the risks. My arguments that they couldn’t fully understand fell on deaf ears and I resigned myself to having extra guards for the foreseeable future. 

The only question was: who would end up guarding who?

---

A/N - So fun fact: this is a true story. I wrote a Joker/OC story called Safety Dance and ended up having to rush an ending because I was uncomfortable with the way it was making me think. I still get deeply uncomfortable when I see pictures of Jared Leto’s Joker and Safety Dance is, to date, the only story I will never consider writing a sequel for. 

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FILM NARRATIVE 2

Critical Reflection

When we were throwing all our ideas around, we were very drawn to cowboys in a big galactic battle, however the dreams were short-lived, production would be way too expensive...

I wasn't convinced with the fake detective idea at first, I had a feeling it would be a very back and forth script, just two people constantly questioning each other without much action, and I didn't want a script that relied too heavily on the dialogue.

(I'm not funny, apologies)

However, once we had our plot and character dynamics sorted out, I felt more confident in writing the script. I was excited to be the writer for the group, huge weight on the shoulders but once I got past that fear of ruining the whole project for the whole group, twas all excitement.

Inspiration+Influence

My main inspiration for the Detective was Dwight Schrute from The Office. I wanted the Detective to be quite cocky but also dumb. As well as the mundane dress sense, with lots of beige and brown.

Linking with the bland colour palette, I was also inspired by the set design in Fargo (the series, I haven't seen the film yet). I felt that the cozy late 70s decor would be the perfect type of setting to emphasise that our screenplay is taking place in a house, and not a police station. In addition to the visual elements, I was influenced by the constant tension between characters in Fargo and how they present it in ways other than just dialogue, like where a character stands in a room.

My Process

After writing a first (rough) draft of the script, I was very happy with it and felt it was a great start! We collaborated quite well as a group when redrafting, discussing what we thought worked and what didn't in my drafts. I'd take notes during our calls and get back to writing.

A vital decision we had to make was when we wanted the script to begin, in terms of the timeline. As I was worried we would need to explain how the Detective had gotten Stanley into his interrogation room. However, after a class with Fiann, Leo and Alex, they had explained that scenes don't always need to begin from the moment someone enters a room. We could imply our characters had been here for a while through the dialogue, which is what we did.

As the writer pretty much has to write, I felt I didn't have much to do after the final draft was completed. Anyways, the group did great with all the pre-production documents! Heathers mood board was great (exactly what I had envisioned too!).

Feedback along the way+crit

Some feedback we'd gotten along the way was to make the emotion of our main character more clear, which was Stanley. After this comment I had realised I'd spent a lot of time working out the Detectives dialogue but not much on Stanley. So when redrafting, I took inspiration from The Departed (2006), with the heavy Boston accents, constant swearing and Mafia families. Therefore, Stanley swears a lot, but sadly when our script was graded we were told we had over used the word "fuck", and it wasn't effective if used a lot, but I politely disagree! The Departed has over 200+ fucks and I still think it's great, I feel it tells you a character is confident and unafraid to express themselves.

From the crit, we had a few errors with our organisational skills, with a few wrong submissions resulting in inconsistencies in the work. And we were told that making multiple mood boards for each character would be useful, which I agree with and will aim for in future projects.

Next time, I would be interested in making an animatic. At the time, I felt our storyboards where enough, and they were, however I think making an animatic is a great extra step to take, and it's something I know I would throughly enjoy making! Group 2 had a great animatic with a run through of the dialogue as well as background sound, which really helped me picture what there film would be like, so props to them for this!

What I have learned

I've realised how much work goes into pre-production, I obviously knew roughly what went into it, but even on a small university project it took a lot of work, so my mind will be blown if when I make it to the big leagues (be your biggest fan...or something like that, right?).

I also hadn't thought much about how important story boards and shot lists are. Until we had our groups boards I realised we must of all had pretty different ideas of what the final would look like, linking with how important communication is on group projects!

Group 7

I am proud of all the work we had done by the end of the project. I feel our communication and organisation as a group was always strong, we all gave feedback on others work and helped each other if needed. I am excited for the independent project with this group as I feel we work well together and are all excited to switch roles around.

   *  ARRIVAL OF A BARATHEON BASTARD       VS. A LANNISTER PRINCE.

content: so this. this started out purely as a joke. i just wanted to make a a very quick and witty comparison and it. it turned out into a full-blown thing. in any case, i’ve talked about this briefly before but!!    I LOST THE POST,  so.   here is me winging this meta / discussion again,   and hoping that it’ll make sense.   again,   this is in no way of disrespecting any other character(s);   just a full opinion written that you’re free to agree / disagree.

warning:  if you haven’t watched ep 1 of season 8?   spoilers.

introduction.

so, as i’ve said: this started out purely as me attempting a joke. when i first saw gendry’s appearance in, what i will dub as: The Arrival 2.0, my first immediate thought was: this is a prince. of course, i’m biased. i like this character. so, i’d want him to take a high position that we’ve learnt to idolise. but it’s not that simple. in reality, gendry is written as a lowborn and, if we’re being realistic, princely probably isn’t the right word nor occupation that can agree with him. regardless, that was my fight thought.  here is an edited screencap for visual aid:

but then i went away to pull out the first episode of got to get a screencap of joffrey in a similar pose. i was baffled by two things: (1) was the re-discovery that we are all seeing this in both the northerner’s point of view but, most important? from arya’s. i might come back to this point later? but we’ll see. continuing, another shocking factor was (2) joffrey, himself. here is another edited screencap for visual aid:

what had baffled me so much was that,    i was wrong.    gendry didn’t look at all like a prince when he’s compared to joffrey.    joffrey looks like a prince:   he has the golden hair,  the right horse,   the right shirt etc.   gendry,  in comparison,   looks rugged and worn-down.   the only thing that’s salvaging him from completely looking like a truly lowborn commoner was that he was relatively clean-looking.  otherwise,  his usual look are him covered in ashes and soot.

gendry doesn’t look like a prince. but maybe that’s the point.

so,  once i’ve established that my joke won’t be funny after all because i was dead off-the-mark with this assumption,  i’ve started to sit down and think:  you know what.   it makes sense.  i think gendry is supposed to look the way he does:   a common folk,   a working man.  aka anything but a royal.   this is ironic,  because i think joffrey,  in return,  is supposed to look like a royal  —  though, in reality, he’s no right in claiming the title considering he was a lannister bastard, himself.   gendry may be a lowborn,  but at the very least,  his claim is stronger in regards to blood. traditionally, of course, that won’t fly. but, let’s save that conversation for later.

appearance alone.

comparatively, joffrey looks divine.   his hair is yellow and thick, and he’s surrounded by the guards that are dutiful to keep him safe,  and his horse is even different-in-colour from the others.   there’s a lot of work just in this scene to pop joffrey up as the prince among the rest.  we, as the audience,  though maybe not immediately drawn,  can somewhat subconsciously conclude that  hey,  this kid must be someone among these marching men of many.

gendry is... not like that at all. yes, again, i repeat, he looks clean. but ... he doesn’t look expensive, you get what i mean? his hair is cut short, suggesting ruggedness. he looks like he’s just been working in the smith and davos was telling him last-minute that they have to go out and go to winterfell. he threw a cloak on his shoulder — which! by the way! looks sagged, while joffrey’s were meant to make him look bold and thick, but the thing is, gendry looks comfortable, which plays a lot in the bastard vs. prince thing because gendry’s whole lifestyle probably pertains more to comfort than to conform himself to any westeros’ fashion standard — and was up on a horse and just, riding to his next destination.

gendry also blends with the crowd, and yet, somehow, he stands out anyway. one could argue that it’s mostly because we see it from arya’s point of view, and she was looking up to the men on horses which was why gendry appeared more grand in our eyes — if compare to joffrey, who, upon first look, we view him with the standard eye-level view: so everything that makes him stand out was literally what he wears and how his guards were stationed around him, but. 

let’s dwell further.

colour scheme and foreshadowing.

‘cause it’s honestly my fucking favourite thing,  but !! this is more of just me emphasising on the foreshadowing that they’ve done. because it’s. incredible. with that, imma get rid of my edited things and pull out some hues from the original screencap of the show.

first, we’ve got joffrey.

so as i’ve said: joffrey is expensively dressed. he’s got the thick coat just like robert’s, he’s got the gloves, and he’s got the beautiful steed that he mounted. and then there were the colours. joffrey’s whole aesthetics are elegance (black) and violence, anger, danger (red, which, now that we’re reading deeper into it, should come off as a warning, huh?) as well as the touch of yellow / gold to represent the riches.

joffrey is everything a royal lannister is, and the tv-show flaunts it.

in the meantime, here’s gendry:

like i said. he’s all rugged and rough-looking, and even his colours are portraying it. gendry’s general tone have always been with earth signs. he is the green of the tree, the brown of the mud: he is stability and home personified. because yes, he may lack the riches, but gendry has always been someone — in this case, arya, specifically, and then later jon with the whole westeros suicide squad — could depend on. 

and the best thing is? he carries the very colours of what the baratheon, i think, should be. stags in the wild: strong and intimidating creatures with its large antlers that could kill (which means they possesses a level of dangerousness that people should be aware of; in this case, gendry with his strength that the show has let us see glimpses of again and again), but they’re peaceful. they’re calamity. they’re reliable.

further scenes. feat. the hound!

it is also interesting to note that, following their first glimpse, both of the characters went on to different side of the spectrums. joffrey (if you count his encounter with sansa next as the second scene, instead of him just Smirking at sansa as the second one) shows arrogance and - him, just basically standing there, in full leisure. he is in no rush. he does not work. he’s nothing to do. joffrey, after all, is the prince.

gendry’s second scene is him reprimanding the people who are handling dragonglass to be careful. to be honest, i do admit, it’s just an establishing shot. (for non-film nor media students, it’s just a quick shot to establish or made known to the audience what we’re watching: in this case, we’re discovering that hey, the dragonglass is a lot, and it’s safely arrived and gendry, obviously, will probably smith a lot) however, it’s a shot of gendry working.

he’s worried about what’s to come, he’s seen death in the face, he knows his duty, knows why he’s brought there, and he’s taking it pretty damn seriously. you can also parallel it with how joffrey’s encounter with arya later when arya had his sword and nymeria attacked him (though it won’t be a strong parallel) but essentially: in the face of danger, joffrey slunk away. gendry got right back up (fitting, really, since he actually literally fell the last time we saw him in s7 in the snow) and started to do something about it.

(it’s also!! cool to think that joffrey’s next scene consists of him taunting the hound. while gendry’s is him aiding the hound with the axe that he asked for. even when the hound mocked him, gendry didn’t rebuke by saying anything mean before arya could interrupt them.)

tl;dr. conclusion.

joffrey is a prince, though it is funny to reflect, later, that he is undeserving of the title for his cruel and cowardly nature. and that, of course, he is illegitimate to the throne by his blood. gendry is an unrecognised bastard. in my interpretation, he doesn’t even go by waters as a last name. and yet, his character is strong and dependable. maybe not princely, no, because gendry is nothing like the diplomat sansa or tyrion is. but, i think, he represents everything a prince should be.

and that’s that.

please don’t reblog.

For the song lyrics, if you haven't gotten too many requests (this one's been sticking out to me lately...apologies in advance): "I don't know where you're going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul?"

Hello! And thanks for the ask! (this is actually the only one I got, for whatever reason). It’s a bit long, but I had fun writing it even up past when I should be sleeping, so I hope you like it too!

“Hey you!”

Eyes flickered open. Rough stones at her back, legs tucked up in front of her. A light stone wall opposite the alley, with the top illuminated but the bottom still in shadow. Everything looked unfamiliar, bright and jarring. She blinked, and her vision shifted back and forth. Where am I? she wondered dully. 

Boots clomped on the stone next to her, and she looked up into a hard, drawn face. “Yeah, you,” he snarled. It was the voice that had woken her. “Drir-damned loiterers, thinking they can just sleep wherever.” There was a sword in his hand, gleaming silver, and he jabbed her shoulder with it. A spike of pain shot through her entire body, much more than the sword could have done, and she groaned, closing her eyes to try and block out the pain. What happened to me?

“Get up!” he shouted. Without much of a choice, she obliged, pulling herself to her feet and leaning against the wall, pain still throbbing through her. “You think you’re all so special with your damned painted hair,” he growled, “but when it comes to it you end up sleeping in alleyways just like anybody else.” He looked like there was more he wanted to say, but with a noise of disgust he turned and headed back the way he had come, swinging the sword in his hand.

Painted hair? She reached up in confusion and, with another wince, pulled out a strand of hair and held it in front of her. It was a bright metallic gold, almost glimmering in the sunlight. Gold hair. That means luck, she thought. She couldn’t say how she knew it, but she could hazard a guess why she knew it.

Concentrating on the…guard? officer? in front of her, she reached for the reservoir of magic inside her. It was an instinctive movement, one she couldn’t have explained but felt completely natural. She drew a thin strand of golden magic from that reservoir and flung it at the man, watching as it wrapped itself around him. It felt routine, visualizing her magic like this. She concentrated on the chance of his foot slipping, pulling through her magic to make that chance real. He stumbled, foot going out from under him and collapsing in an undignified heap. 

He swore, pulling himself back up and continuing onto the street. She watched him go with a smile, but it quickly disappeared as she realized her own predicament. She’d woken up here with no memory of who she was or how she’d gotten here. She didn’t even remember her own name. Another spike of pain shot through her forehead and she staggered, raising a midnight-black hand and pressing it into her face. Even her hand seemed unfamiliar.

Her legs felt sore and tired, as though she’d been walking for a long time. She was wearing simple brown pants and a white shirt, stained with dirt and dust and with the sleeves cut off. Whatever shoes she had been wearing were gone, probably stolen while she slept, leaving her barefoot in the alleyway. Her hand strayed towards the edge of her belt, where a simple strap hung loose, but there was nothing there. 

So what could she do now? The worst of the pain had cleared from her head, and she strayed towards the end of the alley. She could hear the sounds of a busy street, and her suspicions were confirmed when she managed to stumble out, only a quick burst of magic saving her from the same fate as the guard. She blinked in the light, pressing herself against the wall as all manners of people bustled by, each seeming to need to be somewhere right now and not caring who they pushed past to get there.

Break the problem down, she told herself. Figure it out one step at a time. First of all: where am I? 

She caught a glimpse of the ocean near the end of the street and pushed towards it, fighting against the crowd. She could find space there, hopefully, space to stop and think and figure out what the hell was going on. There was a market in the street, the aroma of some sweet food wafting by, and she suddenly realized how hungry she was. But a quick search of her pockets turned out exactly zero coins of any type. Probably stolen by the same people who took her shoes, if she had even had any to begin with.

The end of the street blended into the beginning of the docks, ships of all shapes and sizes bobbing up and down in the water. She didn’t think she’d arrived here on a ship, but it was someplace to start looking. And a sign hanging overhead declared, in freshly-painted black letters, WELCOME TO ARORELLAN! She didn’t recognize the name.

Gods, she was hungry. It’d been lost among her other myriad pains, but now that the smells of food were everywhere, the pit in her stomach had opened to what felt like a yawning chasm. She wandered over to the nearest stall, where a dark-haired and greasy man was shouting unintelligibly at anyone passing by, gesturing angrily with pretzels in both his hands. It got the point across, though. The garlic-y and salty smell was almost irresistible, but of course she had no money to pay with.

But she had her luck, and she was starving. She waited until there was a lull in the crowd flowing by, then sent out a strand of luck magic to his oven behind him in the stall. There was a flicker, and then a massive gout of flame shot up behind him, scorching the roof and knocking the pan off the stove. He whirled around, shouting what she guessed were obscenities. At the same time, she stepped closer and grabbed a handful of pretzels.

Hearing a shout behind her, she turned and ran, feet pounding on the pavement. She ducked around a corner, then another, hoping to work her way back around to the docks, where she could lose the vendor in the crowds. Slipping around the final corner, she broke into another sprint, ducking and weaving as she moved against the tide of people.

A hand caught her shoulder. She jerked to a halt, the most precarious pretzels slipping out of her arms and falling to the ground. Then she was slammed to the ground, everything blacking out for a second before blurring back into focus. Blinking and trying to clear the spots from her vision, she looked up into a stern face, sun-tanned and weathered and framed with bright turquoise hair. She had a jagged scar down one cheek, and was wearing a navy-blue tunic lined with silver, although the insignia had been cut off. “These yours?” she asked conversationally, gesturing at the spilled pretzels.

“Um. Yes?” she said slowly. “Who are you?”

She gave a mock salute. “Captain Helle Calius. And I’m not sure I believe you.” There was the sound of distant shouting, which she recognized as the street vendor. “Oh dear,” she continued, raising an eyebrow. “There appear to be some stolen pretzels about. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

There was no point in trying to maintain innocence any more. “Please,” she said. “I’m starving.” That was true.

“Hmm,” Calius mused. The vendor hadn’t seen them yet, probably because she was still flat on the ground and Calius was kneeling next to her, letting the crowd shield them. “That real hair?”

She blinked. “Uh - yes? I don’t-“

“You’re a luck mage?”

“Well-“

“And with no work?” She laughed. “Yeah, right. There’s just so many luck mages around that they can’t even find work. Nice try, kid. What’s your name? And who do you work for that you have to steal pretzels?”

She shook her head. “I - I don’t know. I don’t think I work for anybody. Please.”

“You don’t know your own name?” Calius asked incredulously. “Well…” she tapped at her leg absently. “Either you’re lying to me, kid - although I can’t see why a damned luck mage would be stealing pretzels - or you’re genuine. Assuming you are, what happened?”

“I, uh,” she started. “Um, I woke up somewhere back there and I didn’t know anything and I was really hungry and so I got the pretzels-“

“Got?” 

“Stole,” she admitted. “And then I ran and then here we are.”

Calius nodded. “Well, I gotta admit, I can’t see why you’d be lying to me. No, scratch that - I can’t see why you’d be telling me that specific lie. Amnesia’s not that easy to fake.” She stood and glanced over the crowd, then offered her a hand up. “Looks like he’s gone.”

She accepted her hand reluctantly. “Are you - are you going to turn me in or something?”

“Nah,” she said with a chuckle. She picked one of the pretzels off the ground and handed it to her. “Here. Have a pretzel. It’s probably fine.” Calius waited, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on her belt as she devoured the pretzel. As far as she was concerned, it was the best food she had ever had. Doubly so because it was the only food she could remember having with the whole memory loss thing. Once she was brushing the last crumbs from her face, Calius nodded and gestured down the edge of the docks. “Come on,” she said, already starting to walk at a brisk pace.

She hurried to catch up. “What - what are you doing? Where are you taking me?”

“Well, I am not taking you anywhere. Feel free to just-“ she waved a dismissive hand- “disappear back into the crowd and steal more pretzels or whatever.” There was an awkward pause. “Alright. You didn’t leave.”

“Where would I go?”

Calius shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Anyways, I am personally offering you a job on my crew. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that you have no objections, especially since you just asked that last question.”

“I - what?” she said, trying to process what Calius had just said. “But you - you don’t even know who I am.”

“Listen, kid. I don’t even know who half my crew is until they get on the ship, besides their names. And luck mages are rare enough nowadays that there’s no chance in hell I’m passing on a chance to get you on board. You’re gonna be fine.”

“But you don’t even know my name,” she pointed out.

“You don’t have one,” she retorted. “Not one that you know, anyway.” They reached a large, triple-masted ship, decorated in dark panelling and silver trim. “The Relinquisher. Your new home.”

“You’re really-?”

“Sure,” she said with another shrug. “I mean, you probably don’t know anything about where we’re going or even what we do, but hey. Always got room for someone who can pull their weight.” She fixed her with a glare. “You will pull your weight, correct?”

She hurried to reply. “Yeah - of course,” she said quickly.

“Good. Now, you need a name,” Calius said, tapping her chin. “Last name…take mine. I’m not using it for anything anyways,” she said, raising an eyebrow at her and smiling, “so yeah. I don’t think anyone’s going to mistake you as my actual child, either, so we should be fine.”

“Now, first name,” she continued before she could even say anything. “I really - huh. I really want to call you ‘Goldy’, ‘cause, you know, your golden hair and stuff, but that doesn’t quite fit. So,” she said, holding up a finger, “we do what the great poets of old did, and translate that shit into a different language. Sure, maybe “Goldy” doesn’t sound right, but what if-“ She stopped, glancing up to think before nodding thoughtfully.

“So,” she said, pointing at her, “how do you feel about Aurum?”

Awkward Situations

Please ignore grammar mistakes I'm still in the process of editing it but here the rough draft//

Chapter 1: In The Locker Room?!

Three years. That was how long he had been here, walking these halls with his classmates- all of whom he adamantly call his friends- yes even Katsuki. Though, friendly was a tricky word to describe their relationship, sometimes Izuku wondered if the term frienemy would be a better adjective. At least Ururaka did, and Iida, and Todoroki, and All Might...okay maybe that was the EXACT term to use for their relationship. Izuku didn't mind though, he knew inside that Katsuki still held an important place in his life, alongside many of the personalities he had gained the pleasure of knowing these three, long years. Admittedly, some friendship were a lot closer than others. Izuku had grown very close to the gravity quirked hero Ururaka and her (now boyfriend) Iida. He had also grown fairly closer with Todoroki over the years and even grew to be someone Todoroki could rely on in need and vice-versa in almost any situation. Again, the green haired boy held pride in saying he now held a bag full of heartfelt relationships with his future pro-hero allies. There was one someone though, someone who he surprisingly found himself drawn very close to in the past year and now resided a more or less permanent physical spot right along side him. His eyes skimmed over their line, Kacchan was to his left, Kaminari on his right. Izuku leaned back some, then forward, then back again with a mutter on his lips. His eyes caught sight of spiky red hair and a flash of teeth before a little crackle went up in his face- resulting in a mess of sputters and a half-hearted glare towards his frienemy. “Oi, loser what the fuck stop fidgeting you're making me wanna blast you.” “I feel like you want to blast me anyways Kacchan.” “Okay but that's not the point.” “....Are you sure?'' “YES. So stop moving! Fucktard!” A small series of blasts and soon Izuku could see a very disheartened Aizawa glaring their way and giving a warning of his own. Ah, Kacchan had never lost his urge to fight Izuku that was for sure, but he had grown a little more tolerable over the years. They no longer held their urge to battle in until it burst. No now the two would find themselves happily fighting and challenging each other on an almost regular basis. Oh, maybe that was why everyone called them frienemies. Izuku hummed, scratching his chin in thought with emerald eyes shining at the prospect. Which was where the boy still found himself dazing when a gentle “psst” and a soft poke to his arm made him jolt. Looking to his right, where Kaminari was snickering and point to his left. Oh god did Kacchan get mad again. Izuku looked left, his gaze up to not blonde but red hair. Those dangerous teeth showing in a radiant smile and a fist held towards him. Izuku returned his smile, his cheeks started to feel warm as he raised his own fist and gave the red head a gentle fist bump. With locked eyes full of hormones and god knows what emotions the two let their hands stay in contact behind the secrecy of Katsuki's back until said blonde got suspicious and turned to look at them both. Red eyes calculating the looks on their faces as they tore their hands apart. While Izuku gave a firm gaze ahead as if nothing had happened, Kirishima cackled and slung a daring arm around the blonde's shoulders. “Ayyyeee Bakubro you ready for these matches?” “Get off me hair-for-brains. Ill own your ass- Deku's too.” “Mhhmmm all right man, y'know it's been three years since I seen you actually take Midor-” “SHUT UP ILL KILL YOU.” “Aight man.” Kirishima held up his arms in a resolute fashion with a little laughter on his lips, another glance back to Izuku and soon he was blushing as well and turning away to continue riling up his best friend. In the mix of Kacchan's fuss, Izuku had almost forgotten what they were doing out here on the field. His eyes returned ahead to focus on Aizawa, Midnight, and All Might who were looking to the two students dueling it out right now. Izuku watched with intent, seeing Todoroki and Ururaka in the heat of a battle while he ran through the usual vast scenarios in his head between the two possible winners. Just as the battle rounded out to an end declared heartily by Midnight and applauded by All Might (or rather Toshinori considering he was in his deflated self) Izuku was pushing his hair back out of his face and slipped a headband over the green to make sure it stayed back. “All right, next up. Midoriya and Kaminari. Let's go don't waste our time.” Aizawa oh-so endeared as he gestured for the next two in line to get to it on the field. Izuku adjusted his gym clothes, shot a grin to Kaminari and parted with a rather stinging high five from the sparky boy as they walked to their ends of the field. With an array of whoops and hollers and a warning from Midnight, the two dashed forward to start a clash of a glowing fist and sparks hazing everyone's visual. - After a long hour of practice battles and a few Recovery Girl visits everyone was more than happy to be dismissed to the showers. The boys all but clamoring over each other to get in the locker rooms and peel off their sweat soaked and singed suits. The girl equally following suit albeit less aggressively as they parted ways to head into their own ocker rooms. This is where Izuku found himself now, rubbing at a light burn on his arm and stretching his aching elbows and wrists under the hot spray of water. Boys were clashing and talking all around, voices bounding of the tiled walls and floor and mingled with the sound of running water, steam fogging up the room and mirrors leaving everyone feeling refreshed and relaxed. Izuku cracked his eyes to look around, taking in the sight of changing bodies and fresh bruises, excited faces and listening to their rambunctious chatters. A small smile graced his features as he skimmed over to a certain red head who took up the shower stall practically vertical again. As if on cue, Kirishima graced towards Izuku and they held their breaths. The duo would never get use to seeing eachother, Izuku confirmed that even after a year of their relationship they were always going to find themselves praising one another with raw looks and scandalous, dancing fingers on eachother's skin. Izuku had his hands on his neck, fingers dug into his shoulders to ease the tension, Kirishima had a hand scrubbing some dirt and char off of his arm from where Kacchan had aimed an explosion to the rock hard limbs. Just when the boy thought it couldn't get worse, the red head dared to wink. He fucking winked. Izuku's heart practically fell out of his body then and there and was now flurrying down the drains in a slew of emotions. The greenette's ears went red and he was praying that he could still blame his flush on his hot shower. Izuku was feeling bold though, after three successful matches he found himself still bursting with adrenalin- and maybe Kirishima was as well causing this surge of brashness- because he smiled coyly, lidded his eyes and slid his hands way too slowly down his body. Accentuating the shape of his tone torso as they curved over his hips and drifted low, too low past the short shower barrier for Kirishima to see. He had to hold in laughter as Kirishima slipped then, trying to see over the wall cockblocking his voyeuristic behavior. Just as Izuku was about to draw his hands back up over his chest for a cheap tease to his poor boyfriend he suddenly felt radiating pain low on his back. Something he was definitely not expecting, but the wet smack of a wound up towel on his skin wasn't what made the locker room go quiet- no it was the noise that escaped Izuku. The wide helpless eyes that were still locked on Kirishima when his lips parted and that noise came tumbling past his lips. A noise that could only be described as a gasping, broken moan that turned into a startled pant. Izuku's scarred hands scrabbled forward at the tiles, and his eyes were wide when they turned around to see a very smug looking Bakugo twirling the towel for another hit. A beat past in silence. And then Izuku found himself wrapping a towel around his hips and all but chasing Bakugo around the room as they swatted one another with towels. Their rowdy behavior spurred on a series of towel swats and wrestling until Iida was breaking people apart by force and herding the dressed ones out of the rooms. In an urgent voice he herded teens to get dressed and “Just be decent you are U.A. third years for goodness sake.” After having most of their butts chewed out by Iida and the playful atmosphere died down, many of the boys left to continue their rough-housing outside of the locker room. Luring Iida, Mr. Class President to follow along and try to keep his peers in tow. Izuku wasn't sure when it happened, but as he was sitting down on the bench and tugging on a shoe he realized he was the only left in the room. A disappointed grunt left his throat, but it quickly died in his throat as strong arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him abruptly into the air. The green haired squawked and twisted in new hold, laughter bubbling up his chest as playful teeth nibbled on his neck, teeth that Izuku found all too familiar. “Eijirou! Come on! St-Stop you know I- You know I'm ticklish when you do that!” His words were swallowed in betrayed laughter, squirming around until the lips that belong to those teeth found his and ate up his contagious laughter. Below him, Izuku felt a solid chest rumble with laughs of its own. Two faces parted and Izuku felt his feet touch the ground once more, but those arms stayed wrapped around him firmly. “Sorry, couldn't help it. Y'know how much I love tickle wars.” Izuku snorts, his hands resting on Kirishima's shoulders. “Dirty trick, you snuck up on me!” “Its an adequate tactic! Now I'm in the lead 9-8 of the great tickle battle.” “You're no fair..” Izuku whined, a playful whine with a smile on his face. “I'm no fair?” The red head squeezed Izuku's side. “What about you? You gave me those eyes in the shower babe, then that thing! That thing that Bakubro did with the towel!” He could feel Eijirou shudder against him. “Babe that noise was amazing an all, but c'mon only Im suppose to make you sound like that!” “I didn't do that on purpose!” Izuku heard Kirishima hum in feign disbelief. “I swear! I was just trying to make you, I mean, I wanted to return your, uh, gazes and, stuff s-so..” “Awe...c'mon, you're too innocent. I think. Somehow you're so innocent and sexy at the same time. Cause that shit was totally makin me wanna do things to you babe.” “Mmh? Things? Well, like what things?” Izuku felt his earlier spark of determination and bravery light up in his chest and he leaned close to his red haired partner. Nosing alongside his strong jaw with a little sigh. “Well, for starters...” Izuku gasped, hands slipping low on his back, one curved to hold his hip possessively while the other massaged his ass. Strong, broad hands that he had felt touching and marking up his skin so many times. Hands that at first hesitance melted away his anxiety and coaxed him into a bubbly ruse of need. He heard Kirishima speaking in his ear now, the breath on his ear spiking his heart beat. “I wanna get you outta these clothes, sit you on my lap babe, and see how long you can keep quiet..” Izuku groaned, pulling his face back and trying to shape his head. “Eiji, we can't do this here- what if we get caught! What if Kacchan sees us? We still haven't told him about us, should his knowledge of our relationship really come to existence by seeing us-” He felt lips on his, firm and heated. His own lids fluttered a bit, heat rushing over his body before it settled low between his legs and he found himself pushing back into it. His lips parted and grew slick when Kirishima's tongue twirled around his, in a little battle for dominance of the kiss, Izuku lost when Kirishima raised a hand and smacked it down on his back end. eliciting a torn gasp that was smothered with Kirishima's tongue down his throat. Oh god dammit sometimes he really hated Kirishima's “practical tactics”. In a blur of limbs Izuku was deemed an official mess under Kirishima's hands. The shark toothed boy had moved them back to the bench, where they straddled the poor wood with Kirishima pressed to Izuku's arching back. Fingers were twining with the freckled boy's tongue and caused drool to slide down his chin. Izuku could feel as Kirishima's free hand had undid his pants and slipped down to cup at his groin, groping at him through his underwear and barely easing up, even as Izuku choked on a moan and his arms almost gave out on holding up his torso. With a chuckle at his back and wet, slick fingers pulled from his mouth, grazed his teeth and trailed spit over Izuku's cheek- the helpless boy whimpered. His pupils were blown wide, more black than green at this point and dark with unchecked need. “Eiji, please, come on..” Izuku whimpered, pleading whispers as Eijirou cooed and kissed the back of his neck. Encouraging whispers of praise left him teary eyed, so distracted by the teasing that before he realized it Eijirou had pushed two slick fingers into his ass. Stretching him and burning him in all the right ways, Izuku's back bowed and his nails left scratches in the wooden bench. Izuku had to hold his tongue between his teeth to keep himself quiet, else they get caught and Izuku adds a whole new story to his list of “Reasons I Need Therapy”. Given the moment however, the idea of making Kirishima stop didn't dare to cross his mind, he was much too pleased with their current predicament- no matter the awkward scenario and/or consequences if someone were to walk in on them. “You're beautiful, gorgeous, have I told you that? I need to, every day for as long as I live baby, absolutely perfect. God, you're too good for me, fuck.” He could hear Eijirou panting against his neck. “The way you move, your hips, your back, your skin is so soft, you feel so good, I love it. I love you.” Izuku thinks he's dying, he knew he shouldn't be surprised because Kirishima was always like this. Always encouraging Izuku and praising him, always giving the boy confidence and raising him to new, better levels of self esteem in any given category- whether it was homework, battle strategies, or sex. Izuku always returned the favors, always praising his boyfriend and gushing over his abilities, in sex he also did his best to return his talkative nature. However, his words always ended up jumbled and mashed into incoherent moans. But Kirishima always said he got the idea. Izuku canted his hips a few times, trying to meet the quick hardening boy with each roll of his fingers until Kirishima deemed him stretched enough. Trying to soothe his panting and begging counterpart when he slipped his fingers out and pulled a familiar foil square form his pocket. Bastard was totally planning this, Izuku would get his revenge. Later though. He promised. Right now he just wanted to occupy his mind with this, deciding to dedicate this scene to his memory he turned to look over his shoulder. Two sets of clouded eyes locked on each other as sharp teeth tore open the little foiled packet and Kirishima rolled the thin rubber onto his throbbing member. A sight that had Izuku aching all over again and rutting his hips to achieve even the slightest amount of friction on his confined cock. The two third years shared a heated look, Kirishima hed himself at his base as the other hand spread Izuku's cheeks. Kirishima pressed slow and determined into Izuku with locked eyes on one another. Izuku was breathless, being filled to the brim and stretched in all the right ways. He couldn't hold up eye contact for his eyes rolled back and fluttered shut, his head craned back to moan breathlessly into the air. Their positions proved to be perfect, for Izuku could feel Kirishima's dick throb against his prostate, causing his body to collapse against the bench. The two stayed there for a moment, giving Izuku the time to adjust to being stretched wide by letting themselves kiss eachother sloppily over the green haired boy's shoulder. When Izuku gave a meek nod against Kirishima and felt their foreheads press together he crooned. Kirishima pulled himself out slow, careful and methodical like usual. Pulled out until he was practically no longer sheathed in Izuku and then he pushed, slid himself right back in. Izuku didn't catch another break then. Immediately his red haired lover was thrusting, fucking him deep and sloppy, making izuku a downright mess. Their bodies creaked on the bench and Izuku's moans were free in the open air of the locker room. Kirishima was thrusting into Izuku, pounding him into oblivion while the green boy was clutching at bench and bouncing, rolling back to meet each thrust against Kirishima's hips. Sweat was coating his skin and Eijirou's all over again, hell they might have to sneak into the dorms in order to catch a proper shower after this. Maybe a round two if Izuku was lucky (he usually was). With sloppy thrusts and slobbery kisses, Izuku and Eijirou were soon reaching their end. They could both feel the heavy pit growing in their stomachs and weighing them down, driving Kirishima to thrust more wildly and with almost reckless abandon. Something that Izuku would secretly treasure, he loved the rough, wild side to his otherwise gentlemanly and charming partner. Kirishima groaned Izuku's name, while Izuku screamed for Kiishima and they found their wild ride coming to deep, grinding halt. Izuku's pants were suddenly wet and his insides were flinching with every throb Kirishima's dick gave. The two teens were breathless and laying onto one another. Izuku's hands were carding through Kirishima's hair while the red head's hands were massaging his sore thighs. Both were shuddering and gasping as they forced themselves to separate. In the silence of their heartfelt afterglow they dressed and cleaned each other, leaving with trails of kisses and lazily whispers to declarations. They found themselves laying on the slightly damp bench and embracing one another. Izuku could die here and now, as his trembling thighs held up his weight and he leaned tiredly against Eijirou's side. A strong arm wrapped around Izuku's waist in both the means of keeping the boy upright but also just to keep him pressed close. They wandered from the locker room and into an empty, dark hall that they filled with their own laughs as they walked leisurely to their dormitories.

something brewing: part i

The moral of this story is that I need to not do the stupid thing and accidentally press save draft instead of queue, since this was supposed to be posted at least a week ago. Oops. Anyway, this is part I of the previously discussed barista au, because I toyed with the idea for a while and it stuck around. Yes, I recognise the title is a horrible pun, but I couldn’t resist. I hope that everyone who liked the idea of this isn’t disappointed.

Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.

i: marcus.

It was just past 5pm, and Marcus was comfortably settled into work for the evening. There was a lazy hum of guitar as his background noise of preference, the coffee shop wasn’t too crowded and that gave him time to open his textbook underneath the counter in between making drinks while Susan handled the customers and sorted out any food orders. The page was marked with the casual ease of someone who was used to reading in what spare moments he had, and ain’t that the truth? Honestly, he had trouble absorbing it all at once, so taking information in bit by bit while he did other tasks always worked far better for him, letting him actually retain it instead of forgetting it immediately after reading.

While he turned the pages, humming softly under his breath, dark hair clustered at his temples in slight, tousled waves made worse by the steam from the coffee machine. The scent of freshly ground coffee filled his nose, underscored by the lesser hints of different types of tea, and you’d think he’d be sick of it by now, but the fact was he found it comforting. It smoothed out all the rough edges of his day and helped him to concentrate.

Leaning across, Susan stuck a receipt in front of him. “Large latte with an extra shot for the tall drink of water down at the end there.” There was a mischievous note to her voice that he’d heard before, usually when a customer was particularly easy on the eyes, and he shot her a look back as he got down to making the drink, a grudging half-smile playing about his lips. She mouthed, “Eleven out of ten,” at him, her petite frame safely hiding her behind the coffee machine, and he lifted an eyebrow, because only once in a blue moon did Susan make that sort of assessment. Working in a coffee shop this close to the university, they both got to see a lot of different people walk in and out when they were on shift. One thing he had learned, however, was that he and his fellow barista had different ideas of what was visually appealing. Maybe it’s because she’s an art student, they find the weirdest things interesting. In Susan’s case, that often extended to people, too.

The latte was done in a matter of moments, his hands moving in a familiar rhythm that was as old as time itself to him now. Flicking a quick glance to the receipt to get the name, he walked down to the end and asked, “Large latte with an extra shot for Oliver?” before sliding the drink across the counter, a slight curve of his mouth because customer service meant you were supposed to smile and be courteous. Since he’d never really mastered smiling on command because other people thought he should, this was the nearest thing that he could manage.

When he glanced up to identify the customer, though, he didn’t expect to find someone looking directly back at him, and he certainly didn’t expect to recognise the face, even dimly. Oh. It took effort not to do a double-take, because he knew he’d seen this one around somewhere and couldn’t quite place where. But everything else apart, Susan had, for once, been exactly right. High cheekbones, gloriously messy brown hair, and as he took the drink, a warm, seemingly shy smile that didn’t match with the slight cheekiness of the friendly wink he paired with it. “Thanks,” he said, and as he walked away, Marcus got a wonderfully prolonged look at exactly how long his legs were. It took actual concentration not to let his eyes wander further. Not at work. He ignored Susan, who was trying not to laugh and failing, and instead opened his textbook again.

“Well. If he meets even your impossibly high standards…” Thankfully, her voice is naturally low-pitched anyway and the boy, Oliver, had long since vacated the immediate area for a table over in the far corner, or he might actually have stepped on her foot to silence her.

“Don’t start, Susan,” Marcus warned, attention momentarily drawn from the pages in front of him, a loose scattering of diagrams and pencils notations visible. “I’ve got to get this stuff into my head before the next class if it kills me. I don’t need distractions.”

He felt rather than saw her pout. “Well, if you don’t feel like being distracted, mind if I do? Honestly, he’d make a wonderful model, I might see if I can convince him to sit for me.”

With an impatient gesture that said be my guest quite clearly, Marcus went back to his book while Susan wandered out onto the main floor of the coffee shop. Ostensibly, she’d gone to clean up, but the odds were good that she’d find an excuse to be distracted, as she put it, while she was there.

ii: oliver.

Oliver was absolutely knackered. So knackered, in fact, that the only thing stopping him from going back to his flat and murdering his flatmate in cold blood, or falling asleep in the chair he’d just sat down in was the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. When he took the first sip, his eyes actually closed for a moment because thank Christ, caffeine. On the second sip, the warmth seeped through him and took away the fact that it was freezing outside. On the third, he was recovered enough to sneak another glance up at the counter and the dark head of hair tilted downwards over what looked like a book. They’d barely exchanged words, really, but Oliver knew himself, enough to know that he definitely liked what he’d seen when the barista had handed him his coffee. Sharp jawline, faint hint of dark stubble that managed to be attractive without being scruffy, broad shoulders clad in a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt rolled back at the elbows, and that maddening hint of a smile. Another sip of the coffee, and it was enough for him to tell that it was good, definitely good enough to keep him coming back. The odds were that he was going to be spending a lot of time here, and the reason why could be summed up very succinctly. “Drunken bastards,” he muttered under his breath, opening his backpack and pulling out his notes, wincing at the state of his handwriting. Right. Best neaten these up.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Startled, Oliver looked up, not realising that his commentary had been quite so audible. However, when he realised it was the redheaded girl from behind the counter, he relaxed. “She’d wash my mouth out if she heard me,” he said, amused. “Because like every mother, she’s convinced that I’m still five and won’t believe it until I prove otherwise. That was relatively mild.”

“Aye, I figured, you being very obviously from Glasgow and all.” The impish grin that accompanied the girl’s words left him confused, until she introduced herself. “I’m Susan. Barista by whatever hours I’m designated to work, art student by trade who couldn’t help but notice you’ve been gifted with the kind of bone structure that begs to be drawn.”

The words flustered him, left him wondering how the hell to answer, so he settled on an easy smile and deflection. “Honestly, I think your counterpart might be the better candidate for that,” he said, nodding in the direction of the other barista. When he caught the playful gleam in Susan’s eyes, he kicked himself. Why do I talk? “But I’m never opposed to a new friend. I’m Oliver,” he said, offering his hand outwards. “Which you know, because I gave you my name about five minutes ago when I ordered,” he added, cringing slightly at himself. And this is why I shouldn’t try to be social when I’m tired. “Sorry, bit braindead, the coffee was necessary.”

When Susan laughed and shook his hand, he couldn’t help but be a bit relieved. Usually, he had no problem navigating new interactions, but right now he was operating on far less sleep than he actually required. When her expression took a turn for the mischievous, Oliver became sharply aware that he’d probably said something he shouldn’t have. “He’s so used to me drawing him in between taking orders at this point that he’d probably be thankful for me practicing on someone else,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “And honestly, can you blame me?”

Watching the dark-haired barista move with the kind of controlled grace that made him look almost alien when placed behind somewhere as commonplace as a coffee shop counter, Oliver couldn’t argue with her and therefore, he didn’t. Instead, he spent a few seconds mulling over the boy, wondering what his name might be and why he felt like he’d seen him before. Probably around the university or something. Fortunately, he didn’t have to answer because she switched subjects a moment later. “So what brings you to our little hole around the corner from the campus? Besides the coffee, of course. I’m guessing you weren’t cursing just now for effect.”

Oliver sighed. “I ended up with an absolute dobber for a flatmate this year. Spends more time drunk than sober, and doesn’t know when to shut it. I like a drink now and then, but not when it means I can’t get any sleep because the eejit and his mates won’t shut it at four in the morning.” He rolled his eyes, pointed at the cup. “Hence the extra shot. Eight o’clock football practice this morning, class in the afternoon and I’m done for, and still got to do some work.”

The wince of sympathy was gratifying, as were Susan’s next words. “Well, that definitely explains the swear words. Should I get our resident coffee genius to make it stronger next time?”

Oliver didn’t even pause in response. “God, yes. If he can possibly add any more caffeine without giving me the shakes or making me ill, yes.”

“He can make anything that involves coffee and tea taste palatable, it’s a gift. Do you trust me?”

“I’ve just met you.”

“I’m a barista. Trust me. Give him free rein on what he makes you next.”

Oliver was too tired to make sense of the conversation, even after the first (excellent) cup of coffee, and his notes were swimming in front of his eyes anyway. “All right. Tell him that if he can make me something that’ll keep me on my feet for the rest of the evening and tastes as good as the first one did, he’s got a guaranteed customer for life.”

iii: marcus.

Marcus was somewhat expecting the cat that’s got the cream smile on Susan’s face when she practically sashayed back behind the counter. He’d looked up only once, seen that she was talking to the attractive boy from earlier (Oliver, his brain helpfully supplied) and snorted to himself, deciding to leave her to it. If there had been a slight pang of disappointment, well, he only had himself to blame, didn’t he? And this, this was why he didn’t do distractions.

“Hey, hotshot. Pretty boy over there says he’ll drink anything you make so long as it tastes palatable and doesn’t give him the shakes. Up to the challenge?”

So much for no distractions. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, that hadn’t been one of them. Against his own will, Marcus found his eyes unwittingly drawn towards the boy, suddenly becoming very aware that he had dark circles beneath his eyes and actually looked outright worn out, the more so as he sifted through what looked like pages of notes spread out on the table in front of him. “Hard partier with a hangover?” he asked, rather hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Footballer with early practices, late afternoon classes and a selfish gobby prick for a housemate who thinks four in the morning is an acceptable time to be pissed as a newt,” Susan amended, only managing to further pique Marcus’ interest, while simultaneously making him wonder how exactly she managed to inveigle information out of people the way she did. “He’s had a long day. Make him something good.”

“Your wish is my command,” Marcus drawled, abandoning his textbook and turning his attention to the coffee machine. “Did you get his number already? I figured it’d take you at least ten minutes to work up to it, and that was barely five.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susan unsuccessfully attempt to hide a smile, resolved to get her back for it later. “No, I don’t think I’m his type, though he didn’t seem to have trouble acknowledging that he finds you good-looking.”

Marcus didn’t bother restraining himself; he rolled his eyes at her quite plainly, and chose not to acknowledge the remark. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hands in surrender. “Just passing it on, even if you don’t believe me.”

“Stop bothering me, woman, if you want me to make the damned drink,” he snapped, not meaning to sound quite as snippy as he did. Thankfully, Susan had known him long enough to know the difference between him wanting to focus and him actually being annoyed, and simply stuck her tongue out at him before heading out to the storeroom to go and obtain more takeaway cups. Left in peace, Marcus spent five minutes concocting something that would tick the boxes specified with the ingredients that he had to hand. The result ended up being a monstrous latte that only just fitted in the largest takeaway cup. It looked relatively ordinary, but he was confident that it would fit the bill. “Order for Oliver?” he called.

And if he wanted to watch the other boy walk towards him, well, he didn’t have to admit it to anyone but himself. Even if his rule was no distractions, he didn’t see any harm in appreciating the view, and there was a lot about the view to appreciate. When Marcus set the takeaway cup down in front of him, there was a shy smile playing about his mouth again and God, he wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did. When the other went to reach into his pocket, obviously intending to extract his wallet, Marcus shook his head. “Try it first,” he said, leaning elbows against the counter and not quite able to help his curiosity. He didn’t often get to see the first reaction to a new drink, so this was a rare opportunity.

When the other boy inclined his head, raised the cup in his direction and took a long drink from it, Marcus watched his reaction move from neutral to enjoyment with a slight half-smile. He didn’t get the chance to ask the question, because Oliver (don’t pretend like you don’t know his name, Flint) had a much wider smile on his face now before he spoke. “I can taste the caramel, and…apple pie? And at least a double shot in there.” It was less of a guess when he had another long drink, and damn if that response didn’t make Marcus’ day in less than ten seconds. “God, that’s exactly what I needed, and I never would have ordered it on my own. How much do I owe you?”

Marcus shook his head again. “Nothing. You just helped test out a new special for the menu,” he said, wanting to outright grin, not quite comfortable enough to let himself do it. Finding the other attractive was one thing, but actually doing something about it was another. Probably has someone, anyhow. The fact that he was even considering the matter was more than he wanted to think about, shoved it away with a nod of his head as Susan emerged from the storeroom. “Get that down your neck, you’ll feel better,” he said, before disappearing into the storeroom himself, under the pretext of checking whether or not they’d received the new blend that was supposed to be arriving. They hadn’t, but he found a mess, like he always did. With a faintly exasperated sigh, he started to tidy up, ignoring the fact that he’d just bolted in the opposite direction to the first person he’d genuinely been attracted to in almost a year. Well, I always did have a knack for self-sabotage. Or maybe I just don’t want to waste my attention on a lost cause.

iv: oliver.

Oliver had been coming to the coffee shop for a few weeks at this point, for a multitude of reasons; the first being that waking up with a hot drink in his hand before his first tutorial or before practice was infinitely preferable to staying at his flat. The second being that his flatmate hadn’t proven to be any less of an idiot as time had progressed, and while the atmosphere between them wasn’t hostile as such, it might easily go in that direction if Oliver was around the flat more often. The final reason, and the one that he was all too aware of, was the fact that the coffee shop came with the added bonus of the dark-haired barista, whose name he’d discovered only four days prior. Susan had called back to what was presumably the storeroom while Oliver had been waiting for his usual morning order (a flat white). “Marcus, are you done in there yet?” For reasons he couldn’t understand, everything seemed to click into place at that point. The name was fitting, but that was also the point where he couldn’t entirely ignore the fact that not only had he liked what he saw when he first laid eyes on the other; he’d liked it enough for the interest to continue past the initial meeting.

So the combination of irritating flatmate, burgeoning caffeine addiction, and a need to work undisturbed also happened to coincide with the fact that he was developing a small, inconvenient crush on the barista, on Marcus. They hadn’t exchanged words much, nothing more than polite conversation really, but in that time, a comfortable routine had developed. In the mornings, Oliver had his flat white. In the afternoons and evenings, Marcus often had free rein on what to make for him, and he’d never yet gotten it wrong. With a glance, dark eyes seemed able to assess what kind of day he’d had and make the drink that fitted the bill. Susan hadn’t been wrong: the other had a gift for it.

It was late one evening when Oliver approached the counter with a textbook in hand, around 8pm, and was met with the half-smile that never quite made it to something more. It held mystery, that look, and he’d rapidly learned that he didn’t mind a little mystery. “Same again?” The question, ready when he reached the counter, made him smile ruefully. “Yeah, please. This thing’s making life difficult for me.” He raised his textbook, an analysis of sport psychology that was interesting enough, but not easy to translate to the project that his professor had given him. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the flicker of surprise, however slight, that crossed Marcus’ expression when he saw the textbook. That was nothing, however, to Oliver’s reaction when the barista responded, “Yeah, that one’s not fun. Been having a bit of a wrangle with it too.”

It took a few seconds for Oliver to click. Really? So maybe that’s where I recognised you from, even if dimly. “I didn’t realise you were in there too,” he said with a smile. “How come I’ve never seen you?”

“It’s a big lecture theatre. I sit up at the back and the lecturer’s usually turned the lights down for the projectors by the time I get there. I didn’t know you were in there either, to be fair.” That was when the usual half-smile that he’d become strangely used to widened, and oh, Oliver wasn’t prepared for that, because if the effect of the half-smile was bad, the full smile was absolutely devastating by comparison. He was sure that he was staring like a fool, and he didn’t have the will to sort it out. Pull yourself together.

“I’m aiming for physiotherapist eventually,” Marcus continued, seemingly not registering Oliver’s reaction. “But I’ve not seen you in any of my other classes, which are somewhat smaller, so I’m guessing you’re taking a slightly different direction.”

It took Oliver a few seconds to form a coherent sentence, and under other circumstances, he would have been really bloody well embarrassed about that, but Christ, he’s only human and that smile was like attacking the unarmed. “Yeah, I…I’ve been scouted for football, so most of what I’m doing is geared towards being able to coach and help other athletes if that doesn’t pan out,” he said. Though he knew that he was good at what he did, he wasn’t naturally a braggart. He felt the weight of Marcus’ scrutiny when the other looked at him more closely, and Jesus, he did the exact opposite of handling it well when the appraisal seemed to run past his face to the spread of his shoulders. Don’t blush, for the love of God.

“What position?”

The question caught Oliver off-guard, because his mind immediately went to places that it quite definitely wasn’t supposed to go while he was in public (I can think of lots of those), and the dark-haired barista (and incipient physiotherapist, apparently) could have easily chosen a better way of wording that. Was that deliberate? He couldn’t tell. Marcus’ expression was unreadable besides the smile and the tilted head. It was impossible to work out whether the other had spotted his preoccupation and decided to mess with him. If he did, game on. “Any number of positions, really, but I’m currently playing keeper,” he said, opting to accompany the words with a grin of his own, daring to put just a little flirtation behind the remark. When he heard a slight spluttering sound from further down the counter, he didn’t need to look to know that Susan had caught the gist of what he was implying, and he cringed because he’d honestly forgotten she was there at all. However, it was Marcus that sent her on the retreat with a truly impressive glare that made her disappear back into the stockroom, while Oliver wished for the ground to swallow him up as promptly as possible.

“I play striker, sometimes.” The conversation had turned back to football, and Oliver was thankful for it. Plays and strategies, he could discuss until light turned to dark, even if he was meant to be wrangling his way through the textbook still in his hands. Apparently Marcus’ attention span was much better than his, because in the time that they’d been talking, he’d still managed to make Oliver’s drink and mark the current page in his own textbook, tucked covertly beneath the counter as it generally was. To Oliver’s surprise, he smiled again, but this time there was an obvious edge of embarrassment to it. “Just realised I’m being a bit of an idiot, by the way. I’m Marcus; don’t recall ever telling you that.” When he came out from behind the counter, Oliver then got his first good look, up close, at exactly how the other dressed. A faded band t-shirt and a pair of dark, rumpled jeans that clung to all the right places. When the other offered his hand out awkwardly and Oliver closed fingers around his for the handshake, he grinned again. “Good to meet you properly. I’ll see you in our lecture, I guess. I’d better get back to work.” When he met the other’s eyes as they released grip, however, the brush of their fingers lingered and he wasn’t immune to the spark of that touch, far from it. Whoa. The other didn’t need to know that he’d already been fully aware of his name before now. “Yeah, you too. See you later.” And with that, they parted ways, Marcus back behind the counter, Oliver returning to his usual seat with coffee in one hand, textbook in the other, and quite probably a really stupid smile on his face like he’d just been hit between the eyes.

What Marcus also didn’t need to know was that his small, ridiculous crush had gone from mildly out of hand to completely insane in the span of about ten minutes, if that.

This is really not a good thing. What am I going to do about this?

It’s here! The road to WrestleMania officially begins with this weekend’s Royal Rumble at Minute Maid Park in Houston. What’s the over/under on mentions of the Astros cheating scandal by the announce crews on commentary and the pre-show? About 100?

Anyway, as always with Royal Rumble weekend, it’s about the surprises. It’s about who will show up when that clock hits :00 for the next contestant to enter the ring. This year, who’s first is not left to predict as WWE Champion Brock Lesnar has already announced his intentions to not only enter the Rumble but be its first entrant. So, who will be the first 5-10 “lucky” superstars who get eliminated by the reigning, defending, conquering Champion? You know it’s going to happen!

This year’s rumors have veterans like Edge, CM Punk and the hometown hero, Booker T as possible entries. And how about the NXT stars? So, far, there’s been no mention of any involvement from the Full Sail gang. It should seem obvious that Keith Lee, off his Survivor Series performance and winning the North American Championship this past week, would be a no-brainer!

And how about the return of Ronda Rousey? Do we get it this weekend or at some point on the Road to WrestleMania? With so few female superstars already announced for the Royal Rumble, there’s plenty of room to add in from all three brands.

But, before we get there, there’s a Saturday night special for NXT and NXT UK to take on each other with Worlds Collide. Here’s the card:

Pre-Show: Mia Yim vs. Kay Lee Ray

#DIY (Johnny Gargano & Tommaso Ciampa vs. Moustache Mountain

NXT Cruiserweight Championship: Angel Garza vs. Isaiah “Swerve” Scott vs. Jordan Devlin vs. Travis Banks

Finn Balor vs. Ikja Dragunov

NXT Women’s Championship: Rhea Ripley vs. Toni Storm

Eight-Man Tag Team: Undisputed ERA vs. Imperium (James Drake & Zack Gibson)

Star of the Week:

Keith Lee – Lee wins his first NXT singles championship, pinning North American Champion Roderick Strong Wednesday night on the USA Network. This could be just the start of a very good week for Lee with Royal Rumble weekend being the next piece of his stardom.

RAW

RESULTS

United States Championship Title Ladder Match: Andrade defeated Rey Mysterio to retain title

Aleister Black defeated local competitor

Drew McIntyre defeated Randy Orton (DQ when The OC interfered)

RAW Women’s Championship Non-Title Match: Champion Becky Lynch defeated Kairi Sane (Submission)

RAW Tag Team Championship Title Match: Seth Rollins and Buddy Murphy defeated The Viking Raiders to win titles

Erick Rowan defeated Matt Hardy

Lashley & Lana defeated Rusev & Liv Morgan

What we loved:

#LaMuñeca to the rescue.#RAW #LadderMatch @Zelina_VegaWWE pic.twitter.com/t5tde5thMD

— WWE Universe (@WWEUniverse) January 21, 2020

Viva La Ladder – Kudos to Andrade and Rey Mysterio, Jr for putting it all out there in this one! Brutal and a good story to boot! And how about Zelina Vega throwing caution to the wind, climbing to the top of the ladder to stop Mysterio from winning the title! Now, we get Humberto Carrillo coming to his hero’s aid to start a feud with Andrade next. Good stuff!

The #MondayNightMessiah just worked a miracle.#RAW @WWERollins @WWE_Murphy @Akam_WWE @Rezar_WWE pic.twitter.com/NPlIkPUIGp

— WWE Universe (@WWEUniverse) January 21, 2020

New champs – What’s the easiest way to get more heat on the most hated faction in the WWE? Put the gold on them! And the surprise is that it’s Rollins and Murphy who got the title shot and not the pure tag team in the AOP. Could that be a sticking point down the road when this faction destroys itself later this year? It’s like The Undisputed ERA (until this week) or The Four Horsemen holding all the titles back in the day.

Best seat in the house belongs to @WWEAsuka. #RAW pic.twitter.com/OINqnT9RAT

— WWE Universe (@WWEUniverse) January 21, 2020

Becky vs. Kairi – Quality match, plus we get Asuka on the top turnbuckle during the middle of the match. A different visual that was pretty interesting as to what she would or could do throughout the match and then, of course, a perfect spot to make a post-match attack on the champ heading into Asuka’s title match at the Royal Rumble.

What we didn’t like:

Last 30 minutes of RAW – The last 30 minutes of RAW did nothing for me. First, another squash of Matt Hardy by Erick Rowan. Been there. Done that. Enough said.  Then, there’s no need for Lashley/Lana vs. Rusev/Liv Morgan to be a main event. Especially when you’re only going to give it less than five minutes. There’s no surprise, intrigue or better yet, a swerve or great match to be had there. If you’re going to keep me for three hours, give me a payoff.

NXT

RESULTS

Dusty Rhodes Tag Team Classic Semifinals: Grizzled Young Vets (Zack Gibson & James Drake) defeated The Undisputed Era (Bobby Fish & Kyle O’Reilly)

Toni Storm defeated Io Shirai (DQ when Bianca Belair interferes)

Finn Balor defeated Joaquin Wilde

Shayna Baszler defeated Shotzi Blackheart (Submission)

Dusty Rhodes Tag Team Classic Semifinals: The Broserweights (Matt Riddle & Pete Dunne) defeated Imperium (Marcel Barthel & Fabian Aichner)

NXT North American Title Match: Keith Lee defeated Champion Roderick Strong

What we loved:

2020 is looking #LIMITLESS!@RealKeithLee has the #NXTNorthAmericanTitle and ALLLLLL the momentum!!!#WWENXT pic.twitter.com/x0XmLc4a0k

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) January 24, 2020

Bask in his glory – It’s here. The first NXT title for the big man, Keith Lee. His stock has been on the rise since Survivor Series last November and it hasn’t stopped! It will be interesting to see how long his reign will be and if it’s just a stepping stone to the eventual NXT Championship.

#Imperium vs. #UndisputedERA#NXTUK vs. #WWENXT This colossal Eight-Man Tag Team Match can only be contained this Saturday at #WorldsCollide! pic.twitter.com/ty3iQqYOAT

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) January 24, 2020

An eye for an eye – As TUE and Imperium build up to their World Collide meeting, it’s only fair that they get each other out of the Dusty Rhodes Classic right? Imperium strikes first to start the night off giving the Grizzled Young Vets a semi-final win. Then, TUE fights back to end the night with a big brawl. If that doesn’t make you want to see them face-off Saturday in Houston, nothing will.

Meh:

Shayna Baszler – Usually I’m all into a Baszler match, but it just seemed like she was a little off. From the pre-match promo to the match with Shotzi Blackheart, who eliminated her in the Battle Royale last week, there was something missing for me. That desire and killer instinct just was a smidge from where it usually is. Maybe it’s me.

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

The Usos & Roman Reigns defeated King Corbin, Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode

Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross vs. Mandy Rose & Sonya Deville went to no-contest when Lacey Evans & Bayley interfere

Elias & Braun Strowman defeated Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura

John Morrison defeated Kofi Kingston

What we loved:

Go big or go home – From start to finish, this was a very good set-up for Royal Rumble weekend for the Smackdown crew. Quality stuff in the ring starting with a very good 6-man match between Roman Reigns and The Usos vs. King Corbin, Dolph Ziggler and Robert Roode, advancing storylines and an emotional, get-to-know-me moment from Lacey Evans. And how about that ending, The Fiend signing the contract in his own blood! Emotions and expectations are surely running high for Sunday night in Houston!

"It doesn't matter where you come from… if you keep pushing, you can accomplish your goals." – @LaceyEvansWWE #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/sKl34H4D6e

— WWE (@WWE) January 25, 2020

Lacey’s backstory – Give me more of the heartstrings from Lacey Evans. What’s not to like about her. A strong Mom and Marine who’s been dealt a rough hand with her father’s issues and not battling a pair of bullies in Bayley and Sasha Bank. It’s going to be nice moment when she wins the Smackdown Women’s Title.

Braun can sing – Count me as one who likes this new pairing of Elias and Braun Strowman. I get a more human, fun side of the big man plus Elias back in the ring for the first time in forever. That’s quality stuff for a Friday night Give me more!

Contract signed… in @WWEBrayWyatt's own BLOOD. #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/1dKohtBD5F

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) January 25, 2020

Sealed with a strap and some blood – Finally, we get a contract signing that’s not long and drawn out with the same ol’ non-sense and dribble. Bray Wyatt and The Fiend get straight to the point as The Fiend answers the call to whip Bryan into submission while signing the contract in his own blood! The only bad part of it all was that annoying red light that didn’t let us see the blood at home until after The Fiend left the ring.

Parting shots:

It’ll be interesting to see how the WWE treats NXT going forward this weekend at the Royal Rumble and on the Road to WrestleMania. The rumors have been that there will be NXT involvement in Tampa at WrestleMania, but to what extent? I would expect that at the very least the NXT Championships will be defended in some respect on the card. But let’s see first how big (and successful) they’ll be in Houston. This year’s WrestleMania could be stacked, but first they must deliver this weekend.

BTW: Can’t wait for the debut in NXT of Scarlett Bordeaux!

And oh yeah, some predictions (IMHO):

Drew McIntyre and Shayna Baszler will win the Royal Rumble matches unless Vince McMahon tries to slam us one more time with Roman Reigns. Lacey Evans wins the Smackdown Women’s Title while The Fiend survives the strap match.

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at [email protected]. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots and Red Sox fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND!

CBS Strange Angel Season 1, Episode 3: “Ritual of the Rival Tribes” Directed by Tucker Gates Written by Allison Miller

* For a recap & review of the previous episode, “Ritual of Abduction” – click here * For a recap & review of the next episode, “The Sage” – click here Out on the town, Jack (Jack Reynor) and Susan (Bella Heathcote) Parsons are enjoying themselves. Having drinks and dreaming of a bigger, better future. Only they’re not out. Susan’s just remembering all the promises “and more” from her husband when they were about to get married. Their current life is far from what she envisioned. No matter what Jack keeps telling her. Susan’s also still rooted in her family life, as well as the life and teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. Her mother (Kerry O’Malley) and stepfather (Virgil Byrne) are equally as stiff. She doesn’t dig the “comfort to be found in the familiar” like all the others. She’s starting to year for something, anything different. Doesn’t help that Ernest Donovan (Rupert Friend) keeps lurking. Because she’s drawn to him, for better or worse. And he’s always keeping an eye on things— watching, noticing, remembering. At Cal Tech, Jack’s rough methods aren’t all the rage with everybody. His partner Richard Onsted (Peter Mark Kendall) is used to it, mostly, whereas Gui Chiang (Keye Chen) and Samson Hunt (Zack Pearlman) are still getting used to him. Soon enough, he’s ready to change, anyway. All for the scientific method! Yet the others are reluctant to let Jack have too long of a leash, even if he’s trying to push the boundaries of known science.

“How can I map new territory if I’m not allowed to explore?”

From the house nearby, Susan hears the sounds of Igor Stravinsky’s orchestra, the same music she was listening to earlier. Leave it to Ernest to have a garden party with The Rites of Spring playing. He admits to seeing her at the store, listening to the record he saw her listening to, and continues trying to reel her into his world slowly. Jack’s telling fibs along the way to keep Susan happy, and Richard plays along so as not to upset his colleague’s home life. He has great intentions, but he’s willingly deceiving the woman he claims to love. It’s not a good look, Mr. Parsons. Especially when his wife is so incredibly devoted to him. Not to mention she’s left pining for excitement in her life. Sooner or later that’s going to come to her, one way or another. On campus, Jack tries convincing the others to do “full–scale tests.” Chiang isn’t into it, and even more so because he doesn’t want to be sent back home where things are not great for the Japanese. Samson’s loyal to his friend and won’t be a part of the plan Jack’s cooking up in order to do what’s necessary. Nobody ever said progress was easy— or entirely legal. Just Jack and Richard go together at night to the chemical factory, where they take a “barrel of nitric acid and a cylinder of dinitrogen tetroxide.” They load the chemicals into the truck, then head off into the dark with materials for new tests. Later that night, Jack and Richard find Samson willing to help after reconsidering. The guy’s even got a way for them to get the illegally-gained materials across campus without being in the open. So, they cart the goods towards their laboratory, right under the nose of any other students, faculty, or security. Jack doesn’t get through it without nearly burning the place. Worse, he trailed nitric acid across the grass outside after almost busting the barrel open completely. That gets them brought in front of board at the college. Richard and Samson stand with Jack in solidarity, as does Chiang, who stresses “the necessity” of what they were doing in order to make progress. Jack’s grateful for what his colleagues have done. With the help of Professor Filip Mešulam (Rade Šerbedžija), there’s no disciplinary action. Other than the team having to go the way of written proposals now to satisfy the bureaucracy of Cal Tech. And should the proposals be rejected, they’ll all be reassigned. That’d leave Jack in the lurch, big time. This makes Jack do some stupid shit— he cashes the check from Susan’s stepfather without telling her, and she only finds out when she’s got to pull overtime at the office. Yikes. That evening, Ernest invites the Parsons’s to a gathering of his group. They’re not so sure about going. He leaves them with a cryptic message: “I have made a secret door. Into the House of Ra and Tum.” Oh, yes, we are getting severe Aleister Crowley vibes in here more than ever! Then, Mr. Donovan’s gone leaving the unhappy married couple in their driveway contemplating whether they ought to go. And they decide to give it a try. At the house, Susan gives the cryptic message to someone at the door, then she and Jack are let inside. They wait in the foyer, as the Minder (Rob Zabrecky) calls upstairs to let someone know the couple is there. They head up with the Minder, past a picture of Crowley, past one of the Thelema symbols with the 93 at the centre. Further in, people in robes and other weird outfits chant together. Jack and Susan are welcomed into the group. They drink from a chalice passed around. A priest-like figure speaks to everyone. Then in the middle of the room a naked woman is unveiled. During the ceremony, Susan runs out of the house, and Jack follows fast behind her. It’s too much for her Roman Catholic mind to take. Meanwhile, Jack’s intrigued. This isn’t the end of his brush with Thelema and Crowley by a long shot.

“May you be granted the accomplishment of your true will”

Yet another fantastic episode. I wasn’t sure after the initial one, now I’m totally sold after the last couple. Strange Angel doesn’t go overboard, it takes the weird mystery one step at a time. Some reviewers complain about it being too tame. But I don’t need to see explicit sex and nudity all the time just because this is based on Crowley. What it needs is atmosphere, of which there’s plenty. The drama and the plot are all excellent. The visuals+cinematography are extraordinary, if you’re paying attention. Bring on more. “The Sage” is next time.

Strange Angel – Season 1, Episode 3: “Ritual of the Rival Tribes” CBS Strange Angel Season 1, Episode 3: "Ritual of the Rival Tribes" Directed by Tucker Gates…