fandomtownies | The Boards Orphanage, Sunday, All Day

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The Boards Orphanage, Sunday, All Day

Upon the miraculous appearance of little Angelo-nee-Jims, Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and formerly ridiculously wealthy priest-in-training ex-rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, once heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, estranged leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and recently stripped of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke... had felt a stroke of inspiration. If asked, he'd say that he was merely acting out the will of God, who had smiled upon him yesterday, letting him join the priesthood and take young ~~Jims~~ Angelo under his watchful eye.

But really, Jonothon just didn't want to risk losing his own bed and property when he made his poverty vows. He was still very new to this priesthood thing, and looking properly tormented all the time was difficult to do attractively when you didn't get enough sleep.

Either way, Fandom Island now had an orphanage on it, as was right and proper on weekends such as these. After all, there really wasn't any shortage of illegitimate lovechildren being passed about, was there? And this way, they could be raised properly, without the influence of sex, drugs, and illicit sushi to guide them away from the right path in life.

Rock and roll was still on the table, though.

[Open orphanage is open!]

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Cade appeared suddenly in the doorway, snapping loudly on his gum because smoking was Bad now, apparently.

"I grew up in a place just like this," he said wistfully, though such a place hadn't existed until three seconds ago.

"A place where you could be safe, where you could grow into adulthood free of the influence of sex, drugs, and illicit sushi to guide you away from the right path in life?"

It was possible that the place just like this that Cade had grown up in hadn't done its job.

"Yes," Cade said, "and then I had my first salmon skin roll and it was all downhill from there..."

"Nice place," Korra drawled, drawing the brim of the fedora that didn't match any of the rest of her clothes over her face.

Maybe if she had had a place like this after the tragic and mysterious accident that had left her an orphan on the mean streets of Republic City, with no one but a massive apex predator to care for her, things would have been different, maybe she could have been someone, been an Avatar people could've looked up to ...but hey, them's the breaks.

Jonothon bit his lip, putting down the storybook that he'd been reading to the children (a good half-dozen more than there had been at the start of the episode), and looked at Cade thoughtfully.

"I myself have walked that path, my son," he offered, holding a hand toward him. "And I'm living proof that one can turn back from the temptations of nigirizushi, if only one has faith."

And looked tormented enough.

"It isn't much," Jonothon said, bowing his head low to the young woman who had walked into the orphanage, "but it's a home for the lost and the needy."

Well, it had been for the past hour, and already it seemed to be disproportionately full of children. Lost, needy children.

Lost, needy children like Korra had been, but no, it was too late for her.

"Real nice place," she drawled some more, her voice taking on a distinct Brooklyn accent as she tapped the walls. "Uses a lot of wood does it?"

"It's a renovated old theatre," Jonothon replied, watching the young woman with a wary glint in his eye. "It would go up like a box of matches at the smallest spark, I'm sure."

Which clearly made it the optimal place to keep dozens of small children.

"But I don't want to resist that temptation," Cade replied. "And pickled ginger is delicious."

Small helpless children. Children without a polar bear dog to keep them safe.

"That it would," Korra agreed, pointing fingerguns at Jono. "Be a real shame too."

"Pickled ginger is delicious." And for a moment, there was a look of true want in Jonothon's eyes, as he remembered the fancy free days of hookers and wasabi in the dressing rooms after his gigs. "But no, no my child, it can only bring about ruin! You must turn away! Sticky rice and nori seaweed are not the true path!"

Ah, but they had a priest-in-training. One who would do anything in his power to keep his children safe.

"It would be," he agreed. "Imagine, so many children with nowhere to go. Of course, nobody would raise a finger to harm them, here."

... Right?

If only Korra had had someone like that...who'd had opposable thumbs.

"Yeah, I'd imagine you'd do anything to keep them safe," Korra echoed Jonothan's narrative, idly snapping her fingers to bring forth little flames. "Anything."

Known assassin Phil Coulson needed to lay low until the time was right. And what better way of laying low was there than hiding in an orphanage.

Just outside the door, Coulson knocked loudly before climbing into his baby-in-a-bassinet costume. The only part of his body that was visible would be his head, with the pacifier in his mouth. The baby's body was an elaborate puppet Coulson controlled from below.

Attached to the bassinet was a note:

Hello kind orphanage owner,

I am a baby. Any wrinkles you see are just from the stress of being an orphan. Please do not touch me, as I have a skin condition and might die if you touch me below the neck.

Also, I love weddings. Please make certain that I attend the big wedding later today.

Thanks!
Little Baby Phil

There was a reason Coulson was a master assassin. This was a foolproof disguise.

Jonothon's eyes narrowed as he looked at those flames. Ah, if only he still had his own powers, the ones of which he never spoke! But alas, he'd lost those when he'd been stripped of his role as leader of Clan Akkaba, because he'd squandered away the contents of their treasury on love and coffee.

"... Anything," he echoed, his hands balling into fists. "Name your price, child, and leave in peace."

Well, Jonothon certainly didn't see through it. After all, the disguise was so utterly convincing!

"Little Baby Phil," Jonothon read from the card, looking thoughtfully at the child. "Yes, Little Baby Phil, you shall have a home here, where you will be kept safe, and raised free from the temptation of the same evils that ruined my life."

Dramatic pause. Flickering candlelight for effect.

"And, of course, I shall take you to the big wedding later today. It is, of course, the least I can do. God would wish it of me."

If only Korra could know peace. Did Jonothon think she liked shaking down random priests for money...okay that part was kind of fun, but still, she'd been meant for more than this.

"Whatever rent you're paying on this dump, it comes to me now," Korra said. "Think of it as fire insurance."

There was a mild, somewhat flummoxed look on Jonothon's face at that, yes.

"I own the building," he explained. "I bought it in my days of sin as a famous rockstar, and so I don't have any rent to pay."

Which really didn't help the fire insurance situation, no. But it was the truth! The truth would set you free!

Research, Korra needed to do her research before shakedowns.

"Well, you pay rates to the city council right?"

"I pay my taxes like any law-abiding citizen should," Jonothon offered. "But I'm afraid taxes are non-negotiable. I simply can't afford to get on the wrong side of the law."

A beat.

"But if you're interested, I might still have some coffee beans stored away from my younger, wilder days. I swore never to touch the stuff again, but a priest simply cannot be seen dealing with people on the black market, so I've been stuck with it."

"Goo goo," Coulson said in appreciation.

It was all coming together.

Korra could work with coffee. For now. "What kind of beans? Single origin?" They better not be Starbucks.

"And the Lord keep you safe as well, my son."

And with that, Jonothon attempted to get the bassinet through the front door.

"They make bassinets rather heavy these days, don't they?"

But with the strength of the Lord on his side, Jonothon would persevere. Hopefully without straining his back.

"Organic Colombian whole bean dark roast," Jonothon replied, looking slightly frantic as his voice dropped low. "The purest that money can buy."

And if he was caught with it... ruin! It would bring ruin to his name, and to the very church itself!

Korra had been looking for a new suppplier for organic Colombian whole bean dark roast. The last one had met with an...accident. "I'll take it," she said. "You'd better not be trying to play me."

Or they'd be having a little barbeque.

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The Boards Orphanage, Sunday, All Day

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