Triptych: Origins drabble (2015-12-26)

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“What is the population of your planet, anyway?” Edmundo asks, shuffling down the line with his tray and punching his meal choice into the cafeteria’s constructor unit.

“Moon,” Westerly corrects, a spot ahead of him, hir own tray laden down with gently steaming food, “The Qovesh live on three moons, not a planet.”

Br’Joci, following after Edmundo in the line, reaches one long arm around to rub her knuckles against Westerly–a gesture of praise and gratitude. “Afi, the moon I was born on, is the most populated; followed by Ari then Aki,” She explains, the cadence of her voice turning into a practiced lecture. “For Afi alone I think it’s about… maybe three or four hundred.”

“… Thousand?” Edmundo asks for clarification, following after Westerly to a mostly empty table, only a Pakebi pair-bond who seem to be already finished with their own meals.

“Billion,” Br’Joci corrects casually, like that single word hadn’t just blown Edmundo’s mind.

Given humanity’s own population restriction–the Lattice space stations having a maximum occupancy and the government limiting settlement on Terra Secundo–such a number seems impossible.

Westerly laughs–a trilling whistle which zie punctuates with several slaps to the table–no doubt at his wide-eyed, mouth agape expression.

“There’s a reason why most Qovesh-Afi join Guilds as soon as we turn of age,” Br’Joci shrugs, “We’re a nation of immigrant workers.”

~

A/N: just a thing from my original fic, I still hope to one day be able to write it in full, but it’s still beyond my abilities. so for now I will chisel away at it, slowly but surely.

Stumble and Fall, 1/? (2015-12-25)

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The problem wasn’t the time travel or the hearing restoration. Those could be considered the opposite of problems, in fact. Waking up as a middle schooler with full range of hearing was befuddling, yes, but not unwelcome.

It was odd to think that the last five years of his life had been reduced to nothing more than a highly realistic dream, but considering what he received in exchange…

The problem wasn’t even that Kouhei had done a spirit a favor and received three wishes in return. That still could be considered the opposite of a problem, being a literal gift after an act of generosity.

No, the problem was that he hadn’t known about being given such a gift until after two of the wishes had already been granted.

—

Spirits, unlike gods, are kind to humans. They are trees or cats or ghosts, not forests and storms and ideas–they see individuals instead of nations, persons instead of people.

But because they don’t see in generalities, they don’t quite comprehend longterm consequences. Or perhaps, due to their own timeless existences, such things don’t matter.

It was meant as a kindness, Kouhei reminds himself. The chatter of his friends–old ones that had not drifted away, new ones that had been drawn into his orbit–is now overwhelming, where before it had been out of reach. A constant grating that once slipped around him, wind to a stone, now instead water eroding him away into sand.

He’s not ungrateful; university is easier this time around now that he can actually hear the lectures, and personal relationships aren’t choked under the strain of constant begrudging effort. But it’s still exhausting.

And then he hears the laugh. A loud, braying thing cutting across the courtyard. It hits him like a lightning strike, a thunderclap; and Kouhei searches for the sound like a parched man turns toward rain.

Taichi

~

A/N: Just read v02ch04 of Hidamari ga Kikoeru and Kouhei’s speech about how he wouldn’t change anything in his life made me think–well, what if it weren’t his choice.

I have a few more “scenes” in mind for this little canon divergence, but mostly I wanted to post this just to see if there are any others out there who have feels about this adorable manga and if ANYONE WANTS TO SCREAM ABOUT IT WITH ME.

Outliving The Ruins, 5/? (2015-12-24)

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According to Auradon, the Isle of the Lost is a cesspool of villainy, bending, and other forms of degenerate behavior.

Well, they’re not exactly wrong.

“Alright, alright, you miscreants and criminals, villains and minions, benders of all elements! Grab a seat or steal it from someone else, because this tournament is about to begin!”

To Auradon, the Isle’s version of tournaments would be a prime example of their despicable ways. But to the islanders?

The bending tournaments are fun–harmless, collaborative, and light-hearted fun. They don’t even gamble on the outcomes. It’s practically heroic.

Of course, the bending tournaments are a secret from their parents. The kids gather outside of the main town, along the rocky shore of a small bay protected by tall imposing cliffs.

Before the tournament, one of the earth benders–usually Anthony Tremaine, accustomed to literally clearing the path for his many sisters and cousins–creates a tunnel for those in the know. The participants and spectators trickle in small groups then the tunnel is sealed back up.

And then the fun begins.

The first couple of events are usually straightforward bending battles, one on one, or two on two, for the foolish few who think they can take on the Jemma and Uri duo.

Querida and Evie, as the only two blood benders, will occasionally show off–who can draw in the larger sea creature. The Tremaines do their own showing off, more aesthetic than power, but still entertaining to watch, while Jay’s combination of earth bending and parkour is equally mesmerizing.

Given Mal’s unique situation, her participation in tournaments allows for interesting match ups. Being capable of bending multiple elements, she has a flexibility that the other benders don’t have. A slightly modified battle, three on one with altered rules, or inserting herself into any of the others’ shows, or even a unique twist combining all three of her mastered elements.

The tournaments are fun: a way for their generation of benders to enjoy their gifts in a pure, unburdened way. A way to spite Auradon without the pressure of their parents’ schemes pushing down on them. Nothing but youth and joy and bending.

Until Carlos goes beyond the barrier.

~

A/N: Small drabble, slightly late, but given the holidays… not bad?

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Learning How To Fly (a DSS Requirement Zacharias Smith fanmix)

  1. It’s Time (Round Mashup) by Imagine Dragons/Kayla Camacho
  2. Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy
  3. Fly Me To The Moon by Westlife
  4. Binary Mind by Ra Ra Riot
  5. Love Love by Take That
  6. I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by Sleeping At Last
  7. What Is Love by Jaymes Young
  8. Give Me Love / Say Something by Song-Masher
  9. Lonely Boy by The Black Keys
  10. Invincible by OK Go
  11. I Love You by Woodkid
  12. I Follow Rivers (ft. Max Giesinger) by Michael Schulte
  13. When Can I See You Again? by Owl City

Find it here!
(The link sends you to a mediafire folder, only the zip file is necessary for the entire mix)

~

A/N: I admit that this won’t make any sense until I write/post my DSS Requirement fic remix drabble featuring Zacharias Smith (and, boy, do I have a lot of feels about that!) but these are some songs off of my “favorites” list that resonated SO NICELY with the drabble to be that I couldn’t help but make this fanmix (also, I didn’t want to have two Missed Posts in a row).

Obviously, Zacharias’ feelings are not as platonic as Marietta’s 🙂

Richie Todd Wayne Goes To Paris 2/? (2015-12-21)

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A/N1: Continuation of this (hence the numbering). Based of @mgnemesi’s baby fic ‘verse.

~

First thing in the morning, over a breakfast nowhere near as good as Alfred’s but far superior to Uncle Dick’s, Mr. Drake asks him, “How’s your French?”

Richie, bleary-eyed but still determined to make a good impression, blinks and dutifully says, “Entre horrible et médiocre.”*

Mr. Drake hums in response and says nothing for the rest of the meal.

Half an hour later, as they are leaving the flat to go to the team’s headquarters, Mr. Drake finally responds, “From now on, you can only speak in French.”

An immediate protest tries to claw its way out of Richie’s mouth, but he bites it back. Still, something must show on his face, because one of Mr. Drake’s eyebrows raise.

“You came to France to learn, so you will learn in French. If you wanted to learn in English, you should have ambushed me in the London HQ. Or,” he says, a smirk slowly spilling across his face, “You could go back to Gotham, everyone speaks English there.”

Rather than discouraging Richie, it fires him up. The challenge is similar enough to his dad and aunts and uncles’ training that it feels familiar, “Je serai Robin!”**

The smirk flickers into a pleased smile, before fading away, back to Mr. Drake’s blank expression.

The trip is made in silence, an unusual state of being for Richie; he plans to brush up on his French so it won’t happen again tomorrow.

—

Richie didn’t notice it yesterday–what with the late hour and being detained by the team as an intruder–but the Batman Inc headquarters in Paris is rather pretty. Especially in comparison to the Cave which, while kitted out to the extreme and very impressive, is still a literal cave.

In contrast, the Paris HQ is bright and airy, mostly windows to let in natural light and the walls either painted to enhance that or glass. It looks more like an art gallery or the offices of a popular fashion magazine, all the better to blend in with it’s surroundings. The physical transparency of the building somehow hiding it’s secret vigilante operations.

Well, that is ostensibly what he came here to learn.

In the light of day, and without the suspicion of being a villain of some sort, the Paris operatives are far happier to see him than they were yesterday. At the very least, they aren’t tying him up and glaring at him, which is a notably big improvement from last night.

But they watch him with wary eyes, only stepping forward and speaking when Mr. Drake rests a hand on his shoulder and says, “Team, this is Richard Todd Wayne from Gotham. He’s here for some undercover training,” in French, of course.

Maybe Richie’s not translating it correctly, or maybe there’s something he’s missing, because the suspicious cast on the team’s faces turns gleeful. Sadistically so.

“Men’s Fashion Week is coming up…” one of them says, a black-haired woman in pink polka dots.

“We do have a concert coming up, as well,” the blonde woman adds.

And suddenly there is a flurry of conversation too fast-paced for Richie to follow, different members chiming in at random times. It kind of reminds him of dinner at the Manor. Except with less threat of being stabbed with a fork… probably.

“I’m sure Richie will appreciate the many learning opportunities,” Mr. Drake says firmly, bringing the discussion to a close, before dropping the hand off Richie’s shoulder, “Before that… Who wants to give him the tour?”

~

A/N2: Given that I don’t actually know where I want to go with this fic, it would not leave me alone while I was at work. So… here? Progress, at least.

Also, the French: *(Between terrible and mediocre) and **(I will be Robin!) I got from google translate. I do not speak French AT ALL. Which is why I didn’t want to continue butchering the language in the second section…

Also, also, thanks mgnemesi for letting me play in the sandbox 🙂

Honor and Cherish (‘Til Death) (2015-12-20)

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Usually when Jason hops through dimensions, he lands right in the middle of things. More often than not in front of his alternate selves or, more and more frequently, one of Tim’s.

But this time around there are no thugs to beat up, no bomb in the process of it’s countdown, no villain of the week holding a gun to someone’s head. There’s not even a caped crusader or a boy or girl wonder in bright traffic light colors.

Instead, he lands in a decrepit library, where he finds a computer set-up Oracle would approve of, a dog that only speaks Dutch, and two men very unamused by his sudden appearance.

So Jason talks fast–it’s one of the few skills he had before Robin training–and, thankfully, does not end up with a hole in his kneecap.

—

“The Drakes, huh?” Jason asks, staring at the taped up photos of the married couple. Once “Finch” and “Mr. Reese” (aliases that would almost make him homesick if he weren’t already) agreed on his tentative ally status, Jason decided to help out. He appeared in this specific place at this specific time for a reason, and this is the obvious reason.

“You know of them, Mr. Todd?” Finch asks, taking stilted, shuffling, painful-looking steps to stand beside him. More papers are taped up onto the board, their shared company and its financial records.

“Kind of. Not these ones, obviously, but different versions of them,” which is true enough. He’s never actually met any of the Drakes except for Tim. Usually they’re already dead by the time Jason appears in the dimension.

Mr. Reese scoffs, a low soft noise, barely an exhalation of breath. He doesn’t really believe Jason’s story of alternate dimensions but he doesn’t have any proof against it either. And in a world like this one–no aliens, no magic, none of the frankly bizarre shit that happens in Jason’s original universe–well. It makes sense.

Luckily, Finch is at least willing enough to entertain the idea. And that’s good enough for Reese.

“Well, these Drakes are persons of interest. They’ll either be the victims or perpetrators of planned violent crime and it’s our job to stop it,” Finch says, taping yet another picture–this time of a man, pug-faced and unhappy, “Given their most recent publication, an indictment against one Wade Huggins, leader of something called the Maryland Militia, it’s more likely the two of them are at risk of becoming the former. Now I’ve–”

“Three,” Jason interrupts, before Finch can continue his monologue.

“What is that, Mr. Todd?” Finch says, irritation blended with curiosity. Both Reese and the dog stare at Jason with thinly veiled hostility.

“Three of them. The Drakes and their son,” Jason clarifies. Because surely, if someone were mad at the Drake parents–enough to kill–they’d make some sort of attempt at Tim, too. “Is there no picture for him? I guess it depends how old he is, Tim never really liked getting photographed.”

Finch blinks, processing, while Reese raises a brow in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Finch says, brow furrowed, “The Drakes don’t have a son.”

~

A/N: For some reason, I was rewatching Person of Interest and in season 2 episode 8 there is a case in which a couple named Drake hire hitmen to try to kill each other and while their first names don’t match, I got some serious Jack and Janet vibes. And then it turns out they tried to have a baby and miscarried… and I wondered oh. What if that was this universe’s Tim?

Because, on a far lighter note, I remember there was a fairly accurate and hilarious description of Person of Interest: “It’s as if Batman and Bruce Wayne were two separate people.” With the former being in love with the latter.

So my brain was like… well… gotta do some kind of DCUxPoI crossover thing.

Also highly influenced by @me-ya-ri’s Left Behind But Not For Long, in that, this is a Jason Todd jumping around different dimensions and trying to find his way home.

Um… not sure if I’ll come back to this, but I had some feels so…

Gambling Away The Past 3/? (2015-12-19)

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Ikoma has only recently been made clan heir, a second son obediently falling in line, but already he is being called Shikakeru–to challenge, to start, to set traps. It is a good Shika name, a name worthy of a future Nara clan head, but it doesn’t quite fit right.

It fits Ikoma’s brother better, even though he already has a Shika name given to him since birth. His brother, Shikaku, the one who should have be clan heir, had he not been disowned for breaking his betrothal. Over some non-clan kunoichi, and a mere chuunin at that.

It’s not that Ikoma agrees–frankly, he doesn’t see why the elders bring up her rank so often, considering most Nara only ever reach chuunin themselves–but he does think that Shikaku could have handled the situation better. Should have, because then this way Ikoma wouldn’t be stuck stepping into a role he’s unprepared for.

It’s not that he’s unsuited–Ikoma is smart, he wouldn’t be a jounin at eighteen if he were an idiot. He can observe a person and know their story without a word, he can analyze dozens of reports and form a strategy to success. He’s smart, okay, so he knows what he’s looking at.

A girl capable of the Nara shadow jutsu, with the same looks as the woman his brother left the clan for, and a Shika name. He knows what he’s looking at and it shouldn’t make any sense but, then again, Ikoma shouldn’t be clan heir either.

Ikoma has a decision to make, an important one. And it doesn’t matter whether or not he is clan heir–doesn’t matter what implied fate is waiting for him–even if he is using the clan heir’s authority. He made an oath: to protect his team, the clan, their allies, and the village. In that order of priority.

In a way, it doesn’t even matter that Konoha is at war, he would protect his clan. He would protect Shikako, even though Ikoma knows what her existence means for his future.

Shikako wouldn’t be named that if she had cousins.

—

Minato is confident that Ikoma knows what he’s doing in assigning Shikako as a fifth member of his team. It makes sense, after all. Minato is often called away to other skirmishes and battles which his team isn’t ready for, and given the near miss that almost occurred… well, Minato isn’t ungrateful.

But he’s also pretty sure that the two of them are lying. Not about Shikako being a Nara–that’s readily evident and, anyway, it wouldn’t make sense for Ikoma to cover for her if she weren’t part of his clan. But there is something off.

It’s not her name or her allegiance–regardless of if he is lying, Minato trusts Ikoma as a fellow Konoha nin. It’d be irresponsible for Shikako to claim a higher rank or overrate her skills–it’s dangerous, to a shinobi and their team–but it’s also clear that those aren’t the lie either.

Minato doesn’t doubt her capability–she saved his team when he couldn’t–especially not after their quick assessment spar. Though it is something about her skills which are questionable.

He recalls the way she aided them in the destruction of the bridge. He notes the lack of sheaths or extra storage spaces beyond the pockets of her flak jacket and compares that to his team’s reports of her fighting–sword and kunai and scrolls.

Surely, as one of Konoha’s three fuinjutsu masters, he’d have at least heard about a girl on her way to becoming the fourth.

~

A/N: So, here’s more of this…

It’s not quite what you asked for @byebyebriar, but it kind of is?

I really love Gambling Away the Past. Maybe the next section can be from Minato’s point of view? I’d love to see his thoughts on Shikako’s touch blast/sealing.

Anyway, thanks for the prompt!

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https://jacksgreysays.tumblr.com/post/135493545009/audio_player_iframe/jacksgreysays/tumblr_nzlhr1S3CE1u7pteb?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.tumblr.com%2Faudio_file%2Fjacksgreysays%2F135493545009%2Ftumblr_nzlhr1S3CE1u7pteb

Saffron Audition for The Boy Who Fell Voice Over

“Am I just overreacting…? I mean, Sorian’s partner can’t be that difficult… Right…? But… That seel trap was too advanced to come from just any demon…. Quartz, I think you should forfeit the match. T-There’s seriously something with this whole match. I have a bad feeling…”

and

“Livvy’s Vase” Monologue (here)

~

A/N: Posting my auditions (also did Ren) for today’s post.

If you are interested in auditioning, check out this post for more details.

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https://jacksgreysays.tumblr.com/post/135493393749/audio_player_iframe/jacksgreysays/tumblr_nzlhjv5QpV1u7pteb?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_nzlhjv5QpV1u7ptebo1.mp3

Ren Audition for The Boy Who Fell Voice Over

“You… You expect me to be happy..? I don’t even remember doing anything remotely bad in my life. And yet, I still end up in this place, and now you’re telling me, I should be happy!?”

and

“Did I ever tell you I am afraid of the dark?” Monologue (here)

~

A/N: Posting my auditions (also did Saffron) for today’s post.

If you are also interested in auditioning, check out this post for more details.