#I now want the whole DAMN group to just be a quartet

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13-Car Sex-Chrollo/Reader

Notes: So guess what, turns out I wasn't getting headaches because I drink too much caffeine, it's actually because I was just undernourished!! Yay that means i can stop limiting my caffeine it was actually hell on earth. Also inspired by Blind Date by lastrisorto on Ao3 which slaps, go read it <3

Anyway enjoy, this ones gonna be a bit shorter, cause I'm tired.

.....

You didn't want to be here. The low light pours over your figure, your foot tapping against the carpeted floor with slight annoyance. 

A waiter appears at your table, silent and dressed in all black. 

“Are you ready to order, Miss?” He asks, smiling at you calmly. He must pity you, but be too professional to let it show. This is an expensive restaurant after all.

“Oh not yet,” You supply, hand coming up to twist your thin necklace. “I think I'll wait until my date arrives.”

“Very well.” The man says, fading away to the dark entrance to hell all the waiters had appeared from. You sigh. 

You’re here because of your mother. Because she had been begging and begging you to get married, and maybe going on a blind date would finally shut her up for a moment. You loved you mom, but damn was she persistent. So when she had told you about the nice woman she had met in pilates, and that the woman had this handsome single friend and she could set you up on a blind date you had finally folded. 

So here you were, dressed to the nines in a fancy restaurant staring out of the large floor length glass window, waiting for this mystery guy to arrive. You pull on the sleeve of your black slinky dress, pulling the black cardigan tighter around your shoulders. There's a bit of a draft. 

It is a bit embarrassing that you folded too easily to your mother, being a powerful member of the infamous phantom troupe. But your mom was way more scary than any of your co-workers for sure. And besides, you have some free time. They don't need you right now, you can do this whole dating thing tonight before you have to meet the rest of the troupe tomorrow. It's nice that you were already in Yorknew city visiting your mom when you had received the summons. 

The restaurant is very nice. Thin hard red carpet covers the floor, muffling footsteps until you can barely hear them. The room is low lit, and a Violin Quartet is situated in the corner, providing a lovely romantic atmosphere. If only this was a real date. You sigh, maybe the guy will be hot and you can get laid and go on your way home. Then at least some good can come of it. 

The table before you is covered in a pure white tablecloth, occupied only by a small bread plate beside which sits a knife, spoon and fork, and a wine glass. A small candle sits in the center of the table, casting a yellow light into the rounded crystal glass. 

You glance at your silver watch, eyeing the minute hand as it clicks closer and closer to seven. Maybe if he's late you can go home and tell your mom that he didn't show up and you were disappointed but there was nothing you could do—

“Excuse me, are you here for the blind date, Miss?”

Your date must be here, a few seconds from being late. His voice sounds a bit familiar, for some reason. You turn from the window, all ready to fake a smile and force a polite greeting, but the words dry up in your mouth as your eyes run up his body.

Everytings starting out promising. He's quite tall, and muscular through the fabric of his black suit. The two of you look like you're going to a funeral, you notice faintly. You start to hope that maybe, this guy will be handsome, and into you. And then you look at his face, and your jaw drops.

It's your boss. Because of course you can't have nice things. Chrollo seems a bit surprised as well, implying he didn't recognize you from behind. You would be offended, but you haven't actually been with the phantom troupe for that long. Only a bit over a year, and besides, the whole group didn't really meet up that often. 

“Boss?” You hiss through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice low. There are only a few other couples in the restaurant, but you would rather the whole room didn't know your business. “What are you doing here?”

“Don't call me that.” Chrollo says, sliding into the seat in front of you with a small fake smile. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was here for a blind date,” You mutter, picking up a menu to distract yourself from the fact that your boss looks pretty good in a suit. His hair is down, too. He looks much better this way, he kind of resembles an alien with his hair slicked back. Maybe he uses too much gel. 

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Chrollo starts, and you sigh. “But you are supposed to be at the meeting tomorrow. Why are you arranging dates for yourself right before a mission, my dear?”

You flick an eyebrow at the title, and roll your eyes again. Must be sarcasm. 

“I didn't arrange this for myself. And besides, I could ask you the same thing!” You hiss across the table, scanning the appetizers. “Unless you decided it was appropriate to show up to a random restaurant in a suit and hit on a random woman.”

You smirk, trying to decide what to eat. Chrollo just smiles. Infuriatingly unflappable.

“I thought it would be fun.” He says. You roll your eyes.

“You sound like Hisoka.”

“Noted,” Chrollo says, wincing slightly, “But you didn't answer my question.”

“Should I get the cob salad, or the carbonara?” You counter, hand coming up to fiddle with your necklace. “I can't decide.”

Chrollo cocks his head to the side. 

“Get both.” 

“Too much food.” you say, deciding on the pasta. You're not that hungry anyway. A light meal sounds good. “What are you getting?”

“Carbonara i think,” Chrollo says, fingers running the length of the menu as his eyes follow behind. “Would you like to share a bottle of wine?”

“Sure,” You say, tugging at your necklace again. “So, what's the mission?”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow into the weird headband thing he has wrapped around his forehead, covering his tattoo. 

“I wasn't aware you were joining us tomorrow.” he says, faint humor hidden in his tone. You roll your eyes. 

“Who said I wasn't?” You ask, turning your eyes away from your boss and out the window. The lights leak into the night, creating a lovely pattern of shining diamonds against the black silk of the night. 

“You planned a date for the night before.” Chrollo says, flipping through the menu to the drink section. You hope he selects a good wine. His eyes flick up from the menu to meet your own for a moment, before he continues. “It's inappropriate for members of the spiders to have a boyfriend. One that isn't aware of your job, of course.”

You roll your eyes.

“We never had that rule.” You say, running a hand through your hair, mussing up the curls. Who cares, there's no mystery hot guy to impress and maybe fuck anymore. Chrollo’s eyes peer into your soul, trying to pry into your business. So what if you wanted to make your mom happy and maybe get some dick at the end. Chrollo doesn't get to know that.  

Chrollo chuckles, eyes flicking between you and the drink menu. Back and forth, back and forth.

“It hasn't been an issue before.” He says, making eye contact with one of the waiters. She nods, and disappears into the dark archway. Probably to send out another waiter or something. 

“That's an unfair rule.” You mutter, tugging at your necklace. “Why are you allowed to date, but the rest of us aren't.”

“I'm not,” Chrollo chuckles, smiling at you like you're missing something. You roll your eyes.

“Then why are you here, for a business meeting?” You questone, crossing your legs under the table, your heels hitting the center bar of the table with a small clack. 

“I—”

“Are you ready to order?”

A waiter has appeared from the abyss, and has come to stand beside your table, smiling a small blank smile. You nod, ordering your cob salad and settling back against your chair.

What an odd day this is shaping up to be. On a blind date, with your boss. You half think that maybe he somehow found out that you were in yorknew city about to go on a blind date and decided to show up and ruin your fun. But he's definitely dressed for a date. He even made an effort to put on a damn shirt for once and cover the strange tattoo on his forehead. You hold back a smirk. Too bad it was just you and not some babe. If he was going to ruin your fun, you would take pleasure in ruining his date.

“You look positively devious, my dear.” Chrollo says, handing both the menus to the waiter, who disappears into the darkness. You laugh.

“This is karma for ruining my date,” You giggle, gesturing around the two of you. “Sucks it's me and not some hottie huh? Well too bad.”

You smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. Chrollo's eyes dip for just a second. You blink. You must have imagined it, the small trip Chrollo’s eyes took down to your boobs. 

You're wearing a black cotton dress, with a halter neck and a bit of cleavage showing. Your arms are crossed under your boobs, pushing them up a bit. But there's no way Chrollo is checking you out. Absolutely no way. You drop your arms, pulling the small cardigan you're wearing tighter around your body. It doesn't go all the way around your chest, it was mostly to cover your arms. Chrollo coughs. 

“Touche,” He says, running a hand through his hair. It looks quite soft. “You must be quite unhappy. A date with your boss is rather…”

He trails off and you laugh again, brushing your hair off your shoulder in a great sweeping movement. 

“I was so surprised to see you,” You say, leaning forward a bit. “You don't seem the blind date type.”

“You as well,” Chrollo supplies, watching as the waiter returns, setting the wine bottle down on the table. “Would you like some, my dear?”

“Yes please!” You say, watching as the sparkling gold liquid foams into your cup. He's chosen a prosecco. From your limited knowledge of wine, you know that's a good wine to pair with Italian food, specifically pasta. A sweet wine, which is fine by you. You’ve always favored fruity cocktails and sweet wines.

You swirl the wine in the stem glass, taking a delicate sip. The bubbles dissolve over your tongue, the sweet fruity flavor flowing into your mouth and down your throat. You let out a little sigh of happiness. 

“Good choice, this’ll pair well with the carbonara.” You say, smiling across the table as you set the win glass back down beside your almost empty place setting. Chrollo simply stares at you for a moment, his face blank. You blink.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You tilt your head, hair falling over your shoulders as you cross your arms. Chrollo's eyes dip down again, this time for a second longer. You must be seeing things. 

“No, nothing.” Chrollo smiles finally, “I'm glad my choice of wine is favorable to your palate.”

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. He's acting kind of odd. Whatever, you giggle. You decide that you’ll just enjoy your dinner and then head home, boss or no boss. You sigh, uncrossing and re-crossing your legs. You kinda wanted to get some dick, but some carbonara and a fine wine would have to do. 

“But time to talk business,” Chrollo says, his brow furrowing from under the cloth covering his tattoo. You sigh, rolling your eyes as he continues. “It's a poor idea to have a boyfriend. You're a spider.”

You roll your eyes again, taking an angry swig of the bubbly prosecco. 

“I'm not getting a boyfriend, obviously.” You mutter, gesturing at Chrollo, seated across the table. “Besides, I just went on this blind date because my mom wanted me to.”

“Ah, really?” Chrollo questions, leaning backwards in his seat. He takes a small sip of wine, the liquid passing through his thin lips. “You should have turned her down.”

“She's been bugging me about getting married,” You sigh, tossing your hands dramatically into the air as you continue. “I figured going would shut her up. And maybe if the guy was hot i could get laid—”

You slap a hand over your mouth a bit too late. Chrollo smirks. 

“Ah, the real reason.” He chuckles, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “You could have just been honest, my dear.”

“Oh shut up,” You mutter, taking another swig of your wine. How embarrassing. Now your boss knew you were pent up and on the hunt for just any old dick. You sigh, swirling your wine around in your glass and watching golden liquid glow in the lowlight. 

“Well, I apologize for ruining your plan,” Chrollo chuckles, smiling through the steam that rises above your table as the waiter places two warm plates of carbonara down in front of each of you. You roll your eyes.

“Why did you agree to the date anyway?” You mutter, taking a bite of the pasta. It's quite good. “I told you, so it's only fair that you tell me.”

Chrollo is silent for a moment, spinning pasta around his fork delicately. You take another bite, tearing through your pasta with excitement. You were right, it does pair well with the prosecco Chrollo picked out. 

“It's…been a while.” Chrollo finally mutters, eyes sliding back to yours. He stares you down blankly, as if daring you to laugh at him. You roll your eyes instead, reaching across the table to pat him roughly on the arm.

“Aw, in the same boat as me?” You giggle. Chrollo stares at the place your hand had touched blankly as you continue, “Well, unfortunately it's not a sexy lady willing to give it up for a stranger, it's just me.”

Chrollo looks at you for a moment, watching as you take the last few bites of your pasta, silent. He seems like he's waiting for you to think of something, but you're too busy taking another swig of the lovely prosecco. It really does compliment the food well. 

“You know, I was quite surprised.” Chrollo starts, placing his fork beside his empty past plate. You tilt your head, as he continues. “It's not often I see you so dolled up, my dear.”

You laugh, patting your hair self consciously. 

“I guess,” You say, crossing your arms over your chest again. You lean forward, tipping forward on your chair, your hair slipping forward. Chrollo’s eyes seem to dip down again, this time lingering a bit too long. You can't be imagining it. 

“You too boss. You look much more handsome with your hair down.” You say, moving your arms, popping up your boobs even more. If he looks down one more time, you're gonna say something. 

Chrollo runs a hand through said hair, flipping it off his covered forehead with a small smile. Your eyes follow the movement, slightly mesmerized by the tendrils of soft black hair. You want to run your fingers through it, maybe yank on it to anchor yourself. 

Tonight isn't the first time you've had inappropriate thoughts about your boss. It has happened more times than you want to admit, even to yourself in your own mind. You've awoken with his name on your lips, your pussy throbbing with arousal. Youve found yourself drifting off into obscene daydreams when he speaks sometimes, or imagining him when your fucking other guys. It's embarrassing, but you may be in lust with your boss. But it's obvious he isn't attracted to you. Please, he barely tolerates you, he would never wanna fuck you, no matter how much you shove your boobs at him, across the table. 

You sigh, pulling back a bit, uncrossing your arms with a sigh. Chrollo smiles a small smile across the table. 

“Would you like dessert?” He asks, handing you the small card with the dessert menu printed across it. You survey the options. 

“I think i'll pass.” You sigh, sitting back in your chair. “It's late.”

Chrollo nods, making eye contact with a waiter over your shoulder. You reach down, rummaging in your purse for your phone and your wallet. 

It has been a nice night, a nice fantasy to add to your embarrassing lusty crush on Chrollo, but all good things must come to an end. You need to do a job tomorrow, after all. You look at your watch, noting that an hour and a half has passed. Where had the time gone. It had just slipped away, like a leaf in the wind. Maybe you had been enjoying yourself a little too much.

“Here,” you saw, waving your credit card at Chrollo. He simply raises an eyebrow delicately. 

“I'll take care of it,” he says, waving off your card. 

“You sure?” You ask, already stowing your card away. Better for you. Chrollo nods, shooting you a wink.

“What kind of date would this be if i let you pay,” He says, smiling softly in the lowlight. He really is quite handsome. You sigh, stowing your wallet away, safely in your purse. You smile.

“Thanks, boss!” You giggle, saluting him across the table. Chrollo just smiles at your antics. You open your phone, tapping open your driving app. It's gonna be a bit expensive, but you had assumed you would be heading home with the guys, so you hadn't driven. That was probably poor planning on your part. 

“Hey Chrollo,” You ask, slipping your phone back into your purse. You put a pleading expression on your face, and push up your cleavage. It's just a joke, but you wear his eyes flick down again, before they rise to yours.

“Yes, Name?” He questions, looking a bit wary.

“Can you give me a ride?” You question, leaning forward and being as pleading as you possibly can. “I was gonna go home with a guy. So I didn't drive.”

Chrollo chuckles. 

“Sure, my dear.” He says, running a hand through his hair distractingly. “But I must point out, that arent you doing exactly what you came to do?”

“What?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion. 

Chrollo stands, moving like a black shadow around the table to pull your chair out for you. You watch his eyes trace you, watch them skim down your neck, take in your cleavage, caress down your curves as you stand, black fabric pooling around your knees. He takes a small breath, a tiny inhale, and then composes himself. But you’ve seen it all. You have all the evidence you need. 

You arrived at this date fully prepared to get laid. And here you are, with the perfect opportunity. You smile, subtly tugging the collar of your dress a bit lower. Chrollo is smiling, a perfectly painted on smile that would fool anyone. But you know that smile. He uses it when he wants to hide something. Your grin is calculated. Each twist of your body is controlled as you turn your back to Chrollo, bending down to pick up your purse.

Your bend is controlled to show off your ass, the arch of your waist as you rise to your feet. And it works, because as you rise up with your purse in hand, you catch an unabashed expression of lust rocket across Chrollo's face. His lips are parted, a small huff of breath falling from them as his eyes zero in on your body, on the contours and dips highlighted by the slinky dress you wear. His chest rising a bit too fast. And a telling bulge in his pants. 

By the time you're fully up of course he's controlled his face again. But you saw it. And now there's nothing holding you back. 

♥♥♥

The windows of Chrollo's small car are already fogged up and all you're doing is making out. Well, more like eating each other's faces off in the backseat. Your bodies are pressed together, your legs splayed over his lap, your bodies thrumming together with arousal as he kisses you, as you grind down on the hard dick in his pants.  

If you had told the You of earlier today that the night would end with Chrollo's tongue down your throat and dick in your pussy you would have laughed in your face. And then probably reprimanded yourself not to let those thoughts of your boss take over of course, but that's besides the point. 

“We really shouldn't be doing this my dear.” Chrollo murmurs, pulling away from your mouth to press a kiss to your pulse point. You whimper, head tipping back as hair waterfalls down your back, tangling with his hands.

“Why,” You groan, moving your hips against his dick. “We’re both consenting adults.”

Chrollo rewards you with a small groan, accompanied by a heavy sigh. You moan, hitching up your skirts as you grind against him. You want him inside you so bad. 

“We should not fraternize before the mission,” Chrollo murmurs, hands digging into your clothed waist as you grind down. “It's a distraction.”

You giggle, letting the sound fill the hot and muggy car. 

“Do you really think anyone follows that rule?” You giggle, reaching down between your bodies to pull your panties aside. You can't get them fully off, but you can shove them aside to press a few fingers against your pussy. You whimper, head falling back as you eye him, a feral look in your eyes. “Your spiders are constantly ‘fraternizing’. Didn’t you know?”

Chrollo actually looks a bit surprised, until you yank his hand off your waist, pressing it against your drooling cunt. 

“You're so wet, name.” He says, pressing a finger into your dripping cunt. “Tell me, what is all this about the spiders my dear?”

You laugh, hands gripping his still clothes shoulders as you fuck yourself against his fingers, body lith with arousal.

“Not gonna tell,” You giggle. “But if the others can fuck their colegues, you can fuck me.”

Chrollo hums, fingers twisting inside you. You moan, hands fighting with his zipper. You're a mess on his lap, your lipstick smeared on your lips, your chin. Red stains his lips, his chin, his neck. You know the stain must surround the hickeys on your neck. It turns you on. 

“Come on, hurry up and fuck me damnit!” You goran, shoving your cleavage up as far as you can. Chrollo chuckles, hands withdrawing from your pussy with a squelch. 

“Whatever you want, my dear.” He murmurs, undoing the zipper of his pants, allowing his dick to spring up, eager and drooling for you. You giggle, stroking it a few times. Chrollo's twitches in response, mouth parting in a small moan.

“Aww, it's so desperate.” You giggle, grinding your clit against it with a sigh. Chrollo simply bites back a moan, hands anchored on your waist. You're almost dizzy with arousal when you speak, “You got any condoms?”

“Wallet,” Chrollo murmurs, body moving against yours. You reach around, fishing in his pants pocket and pulling out the wallet with a dramatic flourish. Chrollo simply smiles at your antics, a bit preoccupied with the friction of your bodies, hidden by a pile of black fabric. 

You brace yourself on his shoulders as you line up, sliding him inside you one inch at a time. Your head falls back, body twitching as you sink down. Chrollo watches you, eyes hazy and unfamiliar, smiling a bit. You kiss the stupid smile off his face as he bottoms out inside you. You grind slowly first, barely rising up at all, just moving back and forth. Chrollo presses a kiss to the space under your ear, breath heaving over your skin. 

“I saw you looking at my boobs,” You moan, head falling back. Your hair waterfalls down your back as you anchor your hands on the sea behind Chrollo. His hair is wilting against his forehead, at some point he'd lost the weird bandage thing on his forehead. He smirks.

“Can you blame me?” he groans, grabbing your things and slamming you up and down. You moan loudly, the air filling with the sound of slapping and squelching. The car smells like sex and your perfume and the expensive cologne Chrollo always wears.

“Uh god, Chrollo I'm gonna cum.” You moan, body tensing as you fight back an orgasm. Chrollo chuckles.

“Oh, done already?” He groans, body tensing against yours. He's full of shit. You can feel him twitching inside you as you clench down. You can feel he's close too.

Your orgasms come in fast like a waterfall. Tossing you off the cliff violently as you cling to your boss’s shoulders, whining and begging him for something, anything. He rewards you with a few pumps in your pussy, rubbing your clit raw. 

The car smells like sex when he pushes you down on the seat, when his dick still lodged inside you comes back to life, or when he smirks down at your twitching body.

You know you're in for a ride. 

....

Endnotes: dude im so tired, but we're almost to the endddd. Kinktober is honestly so much fun even though it's so much work

[blazingstar29]

Beers For Breakfast - Icemav

Requested by: @blackcat2907 - 'May I ask for an IceMav one-shot based on the song Poison by RITA ORA?'

warnings: allusion to internalised homophobia

pairing: preslash iceman x maverick

a/n: i meant for this to be more centralised to the song but i've never written a song fic before so i hope this is okay :D

Control is a thing Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky has strived to hold for most of his life. Up in the sky, at the stick of a jet, mission leader, that’s where control thrives and blooms in the palm of his hand like a plant in the sun. It was addictive and that’s why he’s never let it go since. Nor does he want to. 

That’s what makes Maverick Mitchell so infuriating. He’s a wild card for one, completely unpredictable and flying by the seat of his pants. But the worst thing about it? Tom likes that. He likes it! There is not a day where Tom can predict what Maverick is going to do or say. It’s like he shows up to class already having had  a beer for breakfast and it feels like he’s eyeing up Tom’s sanity for lunch. The man is incorrigible and dangerous and Tom can’t get enough and the whole thing fucking sucks. 

Because out of all the impossible things that might be possible, controlling Maverick not one. Yet Tom has never relinquished control and he’ll be damned if he’s going to start now. 

A big misconception about The Iceman is that his clear glass at the O Club is just straight vodka. Well, sometimes it is. Most of the time it’s just water. No, he doesn’t need anything else in his system. Not when the presence of his fellow classmate goes straight to his head. 

He, Goose, Wolfe and Wood are holding court at the bar. Maverick flashes his white teeth and Tom wants nothing more than to take that jaw in his hand just to shut him up. And it’s just his luck when the quartet wander towards him. 

Maverick eyes up his glass. “What’s your poison, Iceman?” 

Tom doesn’t dignify that with a response. He’s never told anyone about the water and he enjoys the illusion because he can control it. Hot breath tickles his ear and he realises too late that Maverick has leaned in close, beer on his breath. 

“Competition is paused, don’t be such a tight ass,” Maverick slurs just slightly but his voice is the wrong side of too loud. Tom blames it on instinct, a visceral reaction. Slamming his own drink down on the tall counter he pushes Maverick away from him with more force than necessary. 

“You really are fucking foolish aren’t you?” He spits. Maverick landed against Hollywood’s chest, the taller, older man instinctively catching him. The look on Maverick’s face is nothing but one of shock and hurt and…fear. Without a word he leaves the stunned group

Jesus, he’s heading straight for the edge. That’s why he doesn’t like losing control. For all the shit he gives Maverick about being dangerous, he’s the dangerous one. The one who can hurt people and not realise until it’s too late. 

Outside the warm summer air is fresh on his skin and clear in his lungs but he’s still not alone. 

“You alright Kazansky?” Hollywood shouts. Tom turns around to see Wood striding up to him. “You alright man?” 

He nods once, confused. But Hollywood doesn’t stop until he’s in Tom’s face and with the last step he takes he shoves Tom back. Okay, yeah should have seen that one coming. Still, it feels a little uncalled for. 

“What the hell, Rick?” Tom protests as he catches himself before stumbling. “What is this, Maverick revenge squad?” 

It’s petty but it’s all he’s got at the moment.

“Maverick’s a lightweight and you know it. He’s actually trying to not be a dick which I know is crazy but you don’t need to shove it in his face unless you want class to be even more of a shit show.” Rick narrows his eyes at him. “He wasn’t coming on to you, you know that right?” 

He wants to say something like thank God but he can’t, he just keeps coming back for more of Maverick and now it’s over. 

“I know that,” he spits instead. “But I’m not going to be stationed in the middle of nowhere just because he’s a friendly drunk.” 

“He’s not fucking stupid!” Hollywood shouts out of nowhere and it takes Tom by surprise. “Stop acting like he is. He’s got just as much on the line as you, so please for the love of God pull your head out of your ass.”

Heat radiates off the ground as silence echoes between them. 

“It just took me off guard,” Tom mutters.

Hollywood sighs like he knows all the inner workings of Tom’s mind. “Yeah well, maybe you need to drop it every now and then.” 

And he will. Of course he will. He picked his poison. He picked his poison and it’s Maverick. 

[severeearthquakebanana]

Welp, finished the Sailor Moon manga. Wow is the anime different! lol you know, I should have seen that coming considering all the differences I saw between Crystal and the 90s seasons but honestly, I'm just here for entertainment. And despite everything, I was entertained!! I suppose I'll give my thoughts on the overall series here at the end of this post. Be prepared for a long one friends lol.

As with the other seasons, I felt the manga had much cleaner plots and execution. All of the weird undertones I got from Pegasus/Helios were nonexistent in the manga. Yes, there was romantic undertones with him and Chibiusa, but it all tied into her overall theme that she just wants to grow up and be a Lady. And considering she is 903, I don't feel like it is that unreasonable a dream. Additionally, Helios was quite upfront that he was captured by the enemy and that he needed help from a "Young Maiden" to free him and help him in his search for the Golden Crystal. I wasn't all that clear if the young maiden was actually Usagi or Chibiusa, but either way, the goals and plot were very clear. Also! The Amazoness Quartet were the only secondary villains! They weren't as fun in the manga as in the anime, but I like that they end up being Chibiusa's sailor guardians in the future. Really brings it all togther.

Also! Speaking of changes from the manga and anime, Sailor Cosmos! I'd like to go on record and just say I WAS RIGHT. I KNEW CHIBI CHIBI HAD TO BE SOME SORT OF CHECKOV'S GUN THAT THE ANIME IMPROPERLY FIRED! CHIBI CHIB WAS SAILOR COSMOS. It all makes SO much more sense. I had to do a little extra reading on the wiki to fully understand what was going on, but in short, 'Sailor Moon' and 'Usagi Tsukino' are two separate individuals. Sailor Moon is reincarnated every however long, and Usagi is just the current incarnation of Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon is always fighting against Sailor Chaos, basically the embodiment of darkness as yanked from I believe Greek Mythology (might be a different line of religious thought, feel free to correct me). Sailor Cosmos is a future incarnation of Sailor Moon, who felt overwhelmed fighting her incarnation of Chaos. Usagi's incarnation of Sailor Moon had a giant influential showdown with Chaos that led to all the fallout Sailor Cosmos had to deal with, so Sailor Cosmos disguised herself as ChibiChibi to see if she could change the outcome of this influential showdown. In the end, she chose not to, and we don't really know what ends up happening to her in her time period. Which is fine, I don't care about Sailor Cosmos, I only care about Usagi and if SHE survives lol

Getting into the overall series thoughts, I LOVED that the manga ended with Usagi and Mamoru's wedding. A year ago I would have been really annoyed, but now? It so fits. What has Usagi's dream been this whole time? To marry Mamoru. She just wants to be with him, and he wants to be with her as well. And now they get to live out their thousand year lifespan together. Not sure how I feel about the whole monarchy and basic immortality that the whole concept of Crystal Tokyo brings about, but you know what? It's a fantasy series. Immortality is impossible, and I don't think a global monarchy led by magic wielding reincarnations of a prince and princess will ever happen in real life, so i'm not going to worry about it.

Switching gears, despite all my complaints, I think I still prefer the 90s anime. It's the damn score again. I'm not sure if I waxed poetic about Naruto on the live blog or if I left it in the drafts, but in short, Naruto was my gateway to the world of anime and fandom. Sakura as a character really spoke to me, and obviously the story was entertaining (the IP wouldn't be as big as it was if it wasn't). But what really stuck with me after finishing the series was the anime score. I LOVED the score of Naruto. I have the various OST tracks grouped together in youtube playlists based on the emotion I feel when listening and I STILL listen to some of them when I'm overwhelmed at work. Sailor Moon? The transformation and attack sequences are KICK ASS and there isn't a single one I actively dislike. Obviously i have my favorites, literally everything from Sailor Moon Super and Season 1 is a banger, and there are a few other pieces that are used as setting leitmotifs throughout the series that I also enjoy. The one used when Queen Beryl is berating subordinates is a favorite, as is the one played in Super when Haruka and Michiru are shown on screen in like a watercolor painting type still. There is a person on youtube that has the username "Endymon" and they have hour loops of SO MANY OST tracks, and you can bet I have them saved. I've been listing to the first season transformation hour loop while I work since October, and it's marvelous.

I also prefer the 90s anime for all the time we get to spend with the various characters. I may not have liked the choices made for all the characters (see, SuperS and Pluto in R) but the Spectre Sisters in Sailor Moon R? the Starlights in Stars? Honestly even the individual Sailor Senshi throughout the entire series?! The relationship between Hotaru and Chibiusa I think was the plot point/relationship that gained the most by having us spend more time with them. You really felt and understood the deep bond they had, and while I think they still sell it in the manga/Crystal, I think it's better executed in the 90s anime.

As I commented in one of my earlier posts, there are merits to each version of the story. I stand by my statement that the manga/crystal has a stronger and more coherent plot. But there are so many things that the anime does that makes the entire experience so enjoyable. I didn't feel the need to pay super close attention to detail in every episode. I was actually able to relax and recoup in the evening after work and I didn't have to worry about being super focused, I could half watch the episode and still know what is going on. And that is kinda what I needed this fall.

To wrap it all up, I love Sailor Moon. The story and the characters and the OST and everything in between is so fun and captivating. I see now why everyone loved this so much and why this was one of the anime to put the genre on the map for America audiences. Expect to see reblogs of random fanart from me, cause I don't think this will go anywhere anytime soon.

[yuukei-yikes]

What are your post-str Shinaya hcs?

this got so long. its my blog i am not putting a read more. deal with it. its shinaya hour

i want and need a role reversal. i want drama. post str shinaya break up without even being together first. ayano keeps waiting for shintaro to Do something because she's like. okay its been 2~ years and by now she CRINGES at remembering how she acted around him so shes like ok i CANNOT cling to him like that AGAIN. if he wants to come around he will but shintaro is yknow. like that. so obviously he fucking doesnt like honestly hes still sort of acting the same around her like less mean but still a bit dismissive, mostly out of embarrassment though cuz mekatrio wants to kill him+harutaka and momo tease him when he has Moments with ayano so he kinda wants to spare himself that embarrassment so hes like sweet in private then cold in public and ayanos like ????????????????????? does he like me or not what is going ON but also ayano and her amazing awesome self steem issues are like he fucking HATES me im the most annoying person in the world !!!!!!

so she eventually keeps her distance and obviously he notices and shintaros like oh fuck i messed UP because now theres like this sort of misunderstanding and the only way to clear it up is healthy communication but you know DAMN WELL he wont do that but somehow he finds it less mortifying to go around looking like a kicked puppy in a wet cardboard box around her desperately trying to get her attention making ayano even MORE confused.

eventually after a while of being in a circus i think hed get the balls to ask her out himself. probably bc of haruka/takane/momo telling him he's a fucking idiot bitch. anyways i think shintaro tries to kiss ayano and they hit their faces against each others and it really hurts💗🙏

btw thats only them getting together i think. but also that's how they break up and get back together over and over and over with like the exact same precedure everytime. on and off shinaya my beloved.

anc duhhh obviously im gonna talk abt the yuukei quartet Have u met me. takanes like another funny part of the whole thing like i know ive talked abt it but im obsessed with codependent shintaka *holds head* bc ayanos jealous of takane for how vulnerable shintaro is with them unlike with her and takane is individually close to both so shes kinda being dragged by both of them but especially shintaro forcing them to play as their relationship therapist and she fucking hates it but someone has to fucking do it apparently because shintaro and ayano cant talk like normal people. haruka keeps more distance than takane like its something they need to do themselves yknow and tells takane they shouldnt rly get in the way but shinaya KEEP going to her and also takanes insane and still feels responsible for shintaro bc (gestures at the whole ene thing) yeah so its tough for her to say no. like takanes obsessed with shintaro plus sees how pathetic shinaya are being and takane enomoto when they decide to obsess over others so they dont have to think about herself am i right😃<- what haruka tells her . she does not appreciate the comment. the whole thing also causing harutaka drama ougghhh shinaya is so messy that theyre contagious. but haruka is the 1 yuukei quartet member with any emotional intelligence so harutaka have actual communciation so theyre more caught up abt this being like a sorta messed up thing between the whole group and their relationships. on and off shinaya ft unwilling(?) relationship therapist takane ft an even more unwilling haruka who just wants his damn girlfriend to stop cancelling their dates to go stop shintaro from crying at ayanos feet begging her to take him back for the second time this month

ok and.........actual Break Up shinaya where its like Enough for ayano bc thats a fucking insane relationship to have so shes like lol maybe i should get therapy👍 and shintaro again is pathetic and desperately trying to gain her affections back but he just looks so pathetic and its funny. they dont rly stop hanging out bc they wouldnt do that and also its not like shintaro will just leave the dan LOL but thru it all the mekatrio are like KILLING HIM with their eyes especially kano god dont get me started on the one sided(?) kanoshin of it all. i love kano and shintaro having this weird fucking tension during the breakup augh kano little meowmeow the amount of self hatred he feels ok im getting sidetracked shinaya ends up together again basically. in my sitcom delusion shintaro finishes his first song Ever and its abt her and then she hears it everywhere and its so damn embarrassing bc theyre broken up but she still likes him so much it makes her look stupid amd the stupid song brings them back together ummmm sorry. my shinaya era (holds head) i will study them under a microscope

[m0us3rat]

“are you really sure about this place?” stephen asked skeptically, looking at the sign from inside the car. rex sat at the wheel, lydia in the passenger’s seat. matthew and stephen sat in the back, leaning to the middle to look at the motel.

CLOWN MOTEL, with multiple letters dark

“i mean, sure. there’s nothing else around,” rex replied, shrugging a little.

“rex, babe, i love you, but surely there’s another place,” lydia said, trying to make sense of the barely illuminated sign.

“do you want to drive?”

everyone in the car deflected the responsibility.

“it’s past midnight, let’s just stay here. rex is paying, though,” matthew decided, getting his bag from the floorboard.

everyone in the car agreed tiredly. rex stuck their middle fingers at their passengers as they got out and got their bag from lydia. “fuck all y’all!” they yelled.

at the front stand, the woman booking their rooms was clearly in her 50’s and a seasoned smoker. her blonde hair was fading under the flickering lights.

“we only got one room in this place with two beds. y’all okay with bunking up?” she asked in a croaky voice.

rex looked at stephen and matthew. they raised their eyebrows.

stephen and matthew looked at each other. they shrugged at each other and nodded.

“we’ll take it,” they said, voice worn from the drive. they handed their card to the woman and the quartet went to the room.

in the pathetic room, there were two beds and a small bathroom. the wallpaper was once pink and purple stripes, now just yellowed with age and grey from dust. the group agreed silently to keep their shoes on when they walked on the carpet. the two beds had yellow bedsheets on them with two pillows each. the room contained a multitude of clown pictures and paintings, all framed on the walls or on the nightstand between the two beds.

rex and lydia set their bags down on one of the beds, claiming it as theirs. “you two sure you want to bed together?” lydia asked as she took down her low pigtails.

“yeah, yeah, it’s no problem,” stephen said, waving his hand as he set down the bag. “if y’all are okay with it, i’m gonna head to the latrine and get changed.”

the trio bid him farewell as he went into the small room.

“rex, you’ve gotten us into some strange situations, but this is next level,” matthew said, looking at the large clown painting above his bed.

rex ran a tired hand through their curls. they clicked their tongue and nodded. “this one is a lot more…original than expected,” they agreed.

“i’ll say,” matthew replied, turning his gaze to yet another clown painting.

stephen walked out of the bathroom with a metallica shirt on with basketball shorts. his low-top converse remained on his feet. “y’all just guess what’s in that bathroom.”

“a clown painting?” the whole room replied.

“damn right! this place is givin’ me bad energy,” he said as he sat down on the bed.

matthew gestured for lydia to go on to the bathroom. lydia nodded and carried her backpack into the small room and clicked the lock.

“so, when are we thinking we’ll head out tomorrow?” rex asked, trying to make conversation.

“what time is it now?” matthew asked as he worked on unbuttoning his overshirt.

“12:47,” rex replied, holding their phone screen up for matthew.

matthew and stephen groaned. “when do we have to be gone?” matthew followed up.

“10.”

“so…9?” stephen asked, untying his shoes once he sat on the bed.

rex rubbed their face. “i guess. we all cool with traveling in our sleep clothes?”

matthew and stephen nodded.

“good. we can leave at 8 and grab breakfast some place,” rex said as their head darted to where lydia was walking out of the bathroom. her hair was down and her makeup was taken off. she wore the same paramore shirt with a pair of blue leggings with her hi-top converse.

“rex, i got a bone to pick with you,” she said. “this motherfucking place doesn’t have hot water,” she vented as she sat on the bed. “the bathroom is green. neon green with purple trim.” her nose was crinkled.

matthew walked in the bathroom.

“jesus,” they said, smiling a little. “this place is batshit.”

“you can say that again,” lydia said as she laid on the bed. “i hope g-d knows he is my only god because i am not getting in this carpet and saying the shema.”

“i’m gonna say it on the bed,” rex said with a shrug.

“want a kosher cookie?” she replied jokingly.

rex shrugged again. matthew came out of the bathroom in a blue shirt with matching plaid pajama bottoms. of course, he had a pair of slip-on sneakers on with the outfit.

rex walked into the bathroom last while the rest of the party got settled into their beds.

“rex’ll get the lights,” stephen said as he got into his bed. matthew got in beside him.

“you sure this is fine?”

stephen shrugged. “why wouldn’t it be? i don’t care.”

matthew shrugged and pulled the cover over himself. lydia sat up when rex walked into the room, wearing their radiohead shirt with black sweatpants. they turned out the bright light and got into bed, taking off their combat boots.

the two got on their knees and said the shema before getting in the covers.

“i hate this place and i’m considering leaving you over this,” lydia whispered.

“don’t blame you. have a nice life,” rex replied, kissing lydia on the end of her nose.

the next morning, the party of four was more than happy to rush out of the room. once they all had on their shoes and checked that they had all their clothes and phones and chargers, they checked out and piled back into stephen’s ford explorer.

lydia was brushing through her hair while rex was pulling out of the parking lot. rex was muttering the morning shema as they drove, yawning when they were done. the car was silent otherwise.

“what did we think of the clown motel?” rex asked, knowing the answer.

“i’m just impressed i didn’t get killed. it’s touch and go for a black gay man,” matthew replied, not looking up from his phone.

a look of realization washed over stephen’s face. “that’s why you kept asking if it was fine for you to share a bed with me! i completely forgot about that. whatever, it doesn’t matter, i’m bi,” he said.

“you’re WHAT?” the entire car yelled as rex stopped abruptly at a red light.

@outcastkingdom

[what-gs-watching]

“I won’t leave you on your own.”

Y’all. Real life-ing is hard. And I hate it. So I’m still cleaning out random parts of my house and moping through Taylor Swift playlists and trying to convince my dog to care about me. But at least there’s Good Omens episode 5, wherein Crowley is a cute puppy and Aziraphale is on a mission and shit really starts to hit the fan in the sloppy way you’d expect. 

I hate when we focus on Shax but we have to, she’s down at requisitions with Furfur and she’s looking for 10,000 demons to storm poor Aziraphale’s bookshop. I do enjoy that hell runs terribly though, he can offer her 100 and then it drops to 70 because they’re a mess down there and it takes the wind out of her sails, which I appreciate. She’s playing at being a powerful demon, and she gets a group of trash demons to help her.

Also, the fact that both heaven and hell are just thrashing about, trying to do things and being terrible at them is somewhat comforting. They’re so inefficient, for the most part. It’s all ridiculous bureaucracy. They don’t understand humanity at all or what they’re playing at, so even if Crowley and Az are also a little bit bumbling too, they have somewhat of an upper hand. All y’all are a mess.

ANYWAY, Aziraphale is all in on doing his little cotillion ball masquerading as a the Shopkeepers association meeting, he’s got a clipboard and he’s bent on ensuring all of the necessary participants are there. Crowley shows up and asks if he can just watch the show when he realizes Az is wholly determined to get this done. Ya know, nothing is better than following the angel around. 

What Crowley doesn’t expect is just how dedicated Az is - right off the bat he goes into the musician’s store and asks if he’ll be at the meeting with his harpsichord and when the owner refuses, he offers up a Doctor Who 1965 annual (squeeee), saying he can HAVE it if he brings a quartet. Crowley is incredulous, “you gave away a book!” and Az tries to push it aside saying Maggie and Nina are depending on him. Gang, they’re really not. They really do not need any of this meddling, whatsoever. He can dress it up however he wants, but Aziraphale is doing this so he can get his romantic moment. Sweet little angel still does not understand the full weight of the situation he’s in. 

They move onto the magic shop, Aziraphale has such a memory-soaked look on his face when they step inside, he sighs. The man misses that night, bombs and books and attentive boyfriend. At least Crowley is back to being attentive boyfriend, for now.

 Az invites the proprietor to the meeting, who says he can’t attend because it’s his wedding anniversary. So he resorts back to his books, mentioning a first edition of a card player’s volume annotated by the author, but this time he only says the magician can borrow it. He agrees, and in the background, Crowley entertains himself. Selfishly, one of my favorite parts of the whole damn thing is when Crowley puts on the fez and looks at himself in the crystal ball because fezzes (and bowties)  are cool and it lets me love David’s Doctor and Matt Smith’s Doctor while I’m absolutely obsessing over Crowley, and it makes my existence hurt a little bit less. 

Back in hell Shax is trying to give a rousing speech to her pathetic smattering of demons about their mission, and I do appreciate Eric the disposable demon for the sheer fact that he frustrates the shit out of her. He points out their paltry number and he asks if they’ll be fighting angels because angels can be dangerous bastards (y’all have no idea) and he points out that the big transporter is broken. Sow a little bit of defiance, Eric. I see you.

Aziraphale continues on his mission around the neighborhood, and Crowley follows closely behind. He takes up on a bench across from the french restaurant while Aziraphale struggles through a conversation with the owner, insisting on his own broken version of french, as much as she tries to deter him. Crowley’s got his head in his hand, just watching, exasperated. Like ‘yep, that’s my ridiculous angel.’ 

Here’s something that’ll tug on your heart strings though  (thanks random Tumblr post I’ll never find): Crowley says they both speak every language invented, he doesn’t understand why Az is so terrible with french. Aziraphale apparently took night classes in the 1700’s with a Monsieur Rossignol. Rossignol in french means ‘nightingale’. 

They’re bickering in the street of course and Nina goes “bravo” which I appreciate, she says she’s just enjoying the show. Me too, babe. Aziraphale, the terrible liar, reminds her of the meeting, saying “perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind” and he flounces off, but Crowley hangs back. And then. Nina accidentally (maybe) breaks his brain.

She asks Crowley how long they’ve been together and he just says “who?” like he doesn’t fucking know she means Aziraphale. She says “you and your partner” and he trips over himself to say it’s not like that. She asks him if they just got together then, or maybe he’s got a husband or a boyfriend and Az is just his bit on the side. 

Crowley’s indignation at the thought is so sweet. Valiant. Protective. He says “He’s not my bit on the side. He’s far too pure of heart to be anybody’s bit on the side.” And I’m sure he’s thought a lot about that, for a really long time. Everyone seems to think he knew he loved Az when they met on Eden’s wall, and I guess I can’t disagree. But that’s a really long fucking time to be telling yourself Aziraphale is too pure of heart for things. 

She just shrugs at him and says that everyone’s love lives always look a lot less complicated than your own, she’s in her own head of course, she has no idea what she’s just done to Crowley but his face, he looks like he exhales a little ‘oh’ and he’s floundering, baby girl is shook to the core. 

Thinking about it, this might be the first time we’ve seen someone call him on it. In season 1 Aziraphale gets a little bit of it, Uriel saying his sunglasses-wearing boyfriend can’t protect him in hell, and then later when Shax says she’d heard they had been an item, and to Aziraphale’s credit, he takes both of those insinuations in stride. They don’t rattle him. But Crowley lets Nina’s comment break him a little bit. And maybe it’s because if she can see it, other people can. He knows how dangerous everything is right now, and if some random they’ve hardly interacted with has sniffed him out, he’s only ratcheting up that danger. 

True to form, he flees to the french restaurant and a bottle of wine. He calls Az over with a whistle (I love that, I don’t know why) and Aziraphale is still very focused on his own bullshit. He tells Crowley to wait in the bookshop, “you like waiting inside” and Crowley tries to tell him something. He really does try. He says he spent the night worried that Gabriel was going to wake up and smite him, and when Gabriel is smiting, you’ve been “smited? Smote?” Az thinks his verb conjugation is cute, he says “Smitten, I believe. You’re being silly.” But he’s not, that a real and genuine fear Aziraphale should be taking seriously. Can’t fuck up his Jane Austen plans though, of course. So he suggests Crowley tries talking to Jim. 

That, Crowley thinks, is a good idea, so he grabs his wine bottle and stalks off. This man has just had an uncomfortable truth shoved in his face and the Jim/Gabriel situation is putting them both in danger and it’s keeping Crowley from everything that he deeply wants, so he storms into the shop because someone’s going to get his fucking wrath. 

He tells Jim that the last time he’d met Mr. Fell, he’d tried to destroy him, it’s okay that he doesn’t remember that, neither does Az, but Crowley does and he “Did. Not. Care. For it.” He’s been holding onto this terrible thing he bore instead of Aziraphale, that he never fucking told Aziraphale about, and someone should pay for it, and maybe that someone is Jim since he caused the entire situation. They went straight to destroying Aziraphale completely, because heaven is just as shit as hell is, and Crowley’s been carrying that around.

Let’s be honest, they’ve both been carrying around just how horrible their respective sides actually are. And they’re refusing to tell each other about it. If Crowley is irate over the ‘punishments’ and still traumatized, you can bet Az is too. But instead of sharing in it together, they’re keeping it to protect one another. Which is absolutely 100% infuriatingly stupid. And so human. 

So, Crowley says Jim is making Aziraphale risk his entire existence for him (but that’s not it, Aziraphale is risking their entire existence, and he wouldn’t even hear Crowley’s concerns about that, he disregarded them time and again) and when Jim asks if there’s anything he can about that, Crowley tells him to jump out the window. And he agrees. And Crowley lets him open it and climb on the sill and you can see him fighting with himself, that’s not really gonna fix the situation, so he begrudgingly stops him. Crowley doesn’t really kill things. 

He tried to get Jim to remember more, Jim says he feels like a house that had someone living in it for a long time, and now they’re gone but the house can tell where things used to be. And that seems to resonate with Crowley. Jim says his memory was in a matchbox, but actually no, he took it out of the matchbox first and brought it to the shop and now it’s everywhere.

Crowley asks him to try and remember more, explain himself and he says “I don’t know, I’m just…” and Crowley fills in the gap, he says “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.” Like he’s been there before. Like he’s had to piece his house back together. And maybe that’s why he doesn’t remember Furfur. Maybe that’s why he takes pity on Jim and offers him a hot chocolate.

Back downstairs, Az is miraculously moving furniture around and making everything perfect for his misguided little ball and when Crowley comes down he says “You’re up to something, I can smell it. What are you planning?” Aziraphale tells him to wait and see. Because if it was really just about Maggie and Nina, he’d remind Crowley about Jane Austen and cotillion balls and humans falling in love but it’s not, of course.  So he shoos Crowley out to make sure that the humans are on their way to the meeting. 

And so, this stupid plan is in action. People start arriving, their clothes changing as they walk through the door. The bookshop looks warm and inviting and enchanting and Az is really pulling out the stops. 

Crowley knocks on Maggie’s window and she says she’s on her way so he goes after Nina, who tells him she isn’t coming because her partner has broken up with her via text, but he senses a shift. He says something’s wrong, she needs to get in the bookshop, Az will protect her and she resists but he says “for once in your life, trust somebody” and he growls at her so she runs across the street. Something is wrong. 

We gotta get through this, so basically: everyone arrives and there’s music and everyone has been manipulated into being prim and proper. Special shout out to the scene of Mrs. Sandwich trying to describe the fact that she runs a brothel but she can’t say the words. “The devil take it” is going to end up in my vocabulary, and I’m not going to apologize. Sewing buttons is extra, and all the girls do it.

Nina isn’t having it though, she comes in and she knows she’s upset but she doesn’t feel upset, that girl is only somewhat controlled by Aziraphale’s ministrations, and Az tells her there will be no long faces tonight. Everyone is under his spell but Nina is fighting it, which, good for her honestly. 

Outside, Crowley is realizing there are fucking demons stalking about, they almost go after Maggie but he stops them, screaming they’re out of order, they shouldn’t be there, there are rules. They make it clear they want Gabriel. Babe is in a panic though and he rushes into the bookshop, into Arizaphale’s little twisted reality. 

He confronts Aziraphale and he just says “I told you, we’re having a ball” and Crowley tells him they need to talk but Az brushes him off AGAIN because he can see people are getting ready for the ridiculous waltz this idiot has planned. 

Crowley tries again, he says making it rain is one thing but he thinks Az has taken this too far and there’s something really wrong going on. But Aziraphale is too deep y’all, he looks back at Crowley and says “maybe you can tell me about it while we dance” and Crowley is extremely confused but oh my god, the noise Az makes when he grabs Crowley’s hand and pulls him onto the floor. It’s just…Michael Sheen is the embodiment of heart eyes AND excited noises. Triple fucking threat, this man. 

So, this idiot gets his dance. And it’s really sweet, I can’t lie. The way Crowley curls his fingers around Aziraphale’s hand is sheer perfection. And Aziraphale is SO happy it’s happening. It’s all gonna work out, in his little blonde head. 

But Crowley tells him there are demons milling around outside and he’s still very blasé about it, he says they’re perfectly safe inside the shop because it’s still technically a heavenly embassy. Which like, that’s good, but when Crowley tells him it’s time to stop the charade he doubles down and says “I think you’re overestimating how much trouble we’re actually in.”

Babe. C’mon babe. I understand that Aziraphale is trying to make this beautiful moment for the two of them and he’s been wrapped up in the idea most of the season, but like, where is worried Az from season 1? Yeah y’all have been ‘free’ for a couple of years, but he is legitimately throwing caution to the wind and I honestly don’t understand it. Why is he not more worried about this?!

And then it comes crashing down - the demons huck a chunk of something through the window and baby boy’s bubble bursts. 

The demons want Gabriel of course, and Jim figures that’s him so he goes outside to surrender to protect everyone, but their miracle worked too well and no one knows it’s him. And Shax is threatening them (I really do not find her threatening at all, she’s just some little shit trying to prove she’s worth something) and Crowley makes up a rule that they can’t attack humans without giving people a chance to get away first. 

She acquiesces because bureaucracy,  so Crowley tells Az he’ll get everyone out and then he’ll be back, he’s not leaving Aziraphale on his own. Az tries to tell Crowley that he has a thought but he’s dismissed like he’d dismissed Crowley before. Always talking past each other. And maybe that comes out of 6,000 years of back and forth but jesus, y’all. 

Crowley gets everyone to line up and Nina and Maggie try to confront Aziraphale about what’s going on, he attempts to miracle their memories away but they both aren’t having it (not so easy to manipulate people suddenly, is it?) and so they stay behind because they want to help. “Staying behind to die bravely? Good on you.”

Once everyone is outside, Mrs. Sandwich tells Crowley he’s a good lad, “I’m not either, actually. But thank you” with a genuine smile. He hates when Az says he’s good but a human compliment? Acceptable.

So Az is alone in the shop with the girls and Crowley is outside and he’s supposed to come back, but he has another idea when he spies the angel that was supposed to verify their miracle. He convinces her to arrest him and take him to heaven, he needs to see exactly what the fuck is up.

The point is: Aziraphale got his dance, and it didn’t work out like he expected. They did not, in fact, realize they had misunderstood each other and were actually deeply in love. Because things don’t actually work like that.

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[todoscript]

Love Capsule

anonymous requested: Can I request a Bakugou scenario where the reader and the Bakusquad drag him out on a shopping trip and they see a whole section of vending machines and decide to check them out to see what cute, tasty or weird things they can find and the reader and Bakugou either get lost/ditched or squeezed together in a tight row but they have a good time and maybe the reader got a rare all might mysery figure and Bakugou wants it, so they they he can have it in exchange for a date?

genre: fluff pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 4.8k+ warnings: bakusquad shenanigans. bakugou cursing. pining.

author’s note: My Bakugou angst fic isn’t done yet but I wrote this request on the side. I wanted to have something to publish after not posting any written work for awhile so I did my best to get this out asap. sorry if it seems rushed! (also reposting this because the post stopped showing up in the tags).

There are only a fair bit of things Bakugou loathes more than wasting his valuable time. And that includes wasting that time by getting dragged into public places he has no desire to be, alongside the four most senseless nitwits the boy has ever had the displeasure of befriending.

It feels less like a friend group to him and more of a gathering of idiots as he watches four out of the six huddle around the aisle of vending machines across the mall. Where’s the other one, you might ask? You’re standing right next to him, sipping a bottle of sweet lemon tea dispensed to you from those vending machines.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The other girl in his squad, styling unruly pink hair, pokes a finger toward a blue machine in particular. What she finds interesting about it is that it’s absent of all buttons except a single one above the coin slot.

“Says here that you only have to pay a hundred yen for a mystery item,” Sero reads the instructions printed boldly across the surface, his grin showing his pearly whites. “Can range from food to even toys and cheap plastic jewelry.”

Popping up behind his taller friend, Kaminari squints incredulously at the sign before his eyes brighten like he’s concocted a conspiracy. “No, dude, I’ve heard of these kinds of vending machines before! They want you to think it’s some ordinary convenience vending machine, but these things actually have some super-secret big prize hidden inside!”

“Uh, no, that’s how you get your money robbed from you, Kaminari,” Kirishima tells the blonde, and yet his warnings end up floating from one ear and flying out the other. Kaminari fishes out a small stash of coins taut in between the lint balls of his pockets.

“Yeah yeah, just wait until you eat those words when I come home with a Playstation 5!”

“Why would there be a Playstation 5 of all things in there?” Ashido asks skeptically. She notes the small slot near the bottom, appearing sizable to dispense a large water bottle at most.

“Okay, maybe not an actual PS5, but probably the voucher you take to the game store to retrieve one, of course!” He waves the doubt away as he kneels and begins his succession of slotting coins in the machine until agitation eventually ebbs his features. About five hundred yen down the drain and all he’s amounted with in exchange are two Gudetama keychains, two packets of off-brand oreo cookies, and one can of that cheap instant black coffee he dislikes. Though if it’s one thing, he and the drink have in common it’s that they’re both positively bitter.

Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido all snicker wryly behind him while he deadpans at the snotty series of prizes with the skin between his eyebrows crinkled in defeat. Ashido takes this as the time to move along the row, dragging her sullen blond friend by the elbow. “Moving on! I want to get to the one with the Yakult drinks already!” She points onward and leads her compadres down the treasure trove of intriguing automated food vendors. Two of the boys press forward enthusiastically. Kaminari has to be lugged out of his brooding in order to play along.

“God, please just take me out already,” Bakugou mutters while leering his signature miffed face behind them. According to the giggle he registers chiming to his left, it seems you heard his complaints.

“Hm, not having a good time, I’m guessing?” you ask. The metallic edge of your lemon tea creases into the cushion that is your plush bottom lip. Bakugou finds himself staring there longer than he should and immediately tears his eyes away before he’s caught.

Your playful tone throws him off a beat later than he should’ve taken to reply. “Of course. I didn’t even want to be here to begin with,” he sneers with a brisk click of his tongue, crossing his arms. In a sense, he’s only telling half of the truth.

It’s true Bakugou did not desire to be here on his own accord. The squad dared to call him at the dead of midnight, when he was already tucked into bed by nine o’clock sharp and indulging in a needed rest, only to be ruefully awoken by his phone blaring across the expanse of his dorm room. The four should’ve suffered an earful from him as they tried to arrange a shopping trip of all things at that hour. However, his disinterest in the subject withered at the bait of your name casted into the conversation. Which to them was hook, line, and sinker. The cunning group of friends reeled him in at the idea that his crush would tag along. So, in the end, they got the rowdy blond to yield to the stupid shopping trip.

Though could it count as a shopping trip when four out of the six in their group were so transfixed by the weird vending machines in the place? The same four that organized said gathering to begin with? They’ve yet to cross into a single store here for crying out loud.

“If all you morons are gonna do is waste your damn money on these things, then this is a complete waste of time.” Bakugou doesn’t sugarcoat his irritation in the slightest. You still try to quell the bitterness in his tone with the saccharine that saturates your own.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, lighten up,” you tease playfully, pinching a small bit of the fabric on his arm to lightly urge him forward.

“You should at least try and join in on the fun with everyone—” At the turn of your head, your sentence cuts off, astonished to come across an empty space where your quartet of friends should be.

“And they’re already gone…” you say in disbelief. Your finger initially pointed in that direction falls limp. With their speedy curiosity plowing down the line of machines, the four have effectively ditched you two, leaving no trace of where they could’ve taken off for next.

The sigh from your lips lingers in amusement. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, Bakugou.”

When your eyes meet him again, you witness the scowl he glares at the abandoned space in front of the vending machine. The leer is menacing enough that if the contraption were an actual person, they might have rattled in fear, dropping down the snacks and drinks contained inside to sate his anger.

“Um, Bakugou?” you attempt to call out to him, but he’s too fixated by the peeved thoughts strewn in his head to hear you properly.

What the fuck are those dunces thinking? They planned this, didn’t they? God, I’m going to fucking kill them all! He babbles a seething torrent in his mind. Each one is more unrelenting and harsher than the last while a vein blisters prominently on his forehead.

What were the odds that going on a little shopping trip would end up with him left behind with his crush? Well, Bakugou thinks it’s absolutely none, and that this shit had to be preordained. If not, then it was just his bad fucking luck he supposes.

“—llo, earth to Bakugou Katsuki? Please send back a reply when you receive this message.”

At last, your voice surfaces, no longer drowned in Bakugou’s turbulent sea of thoughts as the hand you wave in front of him swims its way to his attention. “Huh?” He shakes his head twice to grip himself back to the matter at hand, observing in time the playful smile that curls mischievously on your lips.

“All back together I see. Good.” You start pulling on his arm and lead him in tandem with your steps. “Now let’s get going!”

Though he quirks up an eyebrow, Bakugou, weirdly enough, does not reject the way you drag him along without waiting for his response. In fact, with the other four gone, he finds it compelling that you’re taking the reins and asks mildly, “What? Are we gonna be doing some actual shopping now?”

His joke earns him your laughter resonating in melodic lilts to his ears before you leave his side to toss your empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Nope, we’re gonna be doing something even more fun, of course!” Then you resume dragging Bakugou down the walkways of the mall.

It’s not long until he questions the consecutive twists and turns he’s forced to take, having only been answered by your pursed grin multiple times.

“Hey, no more questions! Just trust me!” you quip at his refusal to be quiet and just obediently follow. The blonde can’t help it, of course, given the circumstances he’s wound himself in. Not many boys his age can control themselves if the person they like is pulling them along with as much enthusiasm as you are right now. But Bakugou is different from those other simpletons, crafting a mask to cover the elation hidden beneath with usual displeasure. Nothing but his uncharacteristic lack of annoyance and the ample glances in your direction could truly give himself away to his affections for you.

So with that, he places a generous amount of hope that you guide him somewhere more entertaining than that borefest he witnessed from the squad earlier.

But the moment you two reach your destination, he wonders if he may have accidentally misplaced that same hope down a rabbit hole instead.

“What the…” Bakugou’s words drift in the air at the quizzical sight before him. Mouth hanging open, he’s unable to conjure any sensible thoughts in time before you step in front of him.

“Tada! The Capsule Toy Gacha Room!” You spread your hands outward to present him an unhindered view of the room. It’s teeming with small capsule toy machines that line the walls, stacked on top of each other not to waste a single space inside. His red eyes squint at the assortment of bright colors painted on each machine that assaults his vision.

“Why the hell are there so many of these things?” Bakugou asks, jabbing a finger at the machines. You reply as you walk inside, “It’s the Gacha Room, Bakugou. Of course this place is gonna be filled with them.” You impart him an answer he is not at all satisfied with.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid! Glad it hasn’t really changed,” you say, noting the only real difference between then and now were the new toys and characters updated with the current trends. He begrudgingly trails behind you into the narrow corridors sandwiched with the machines on each side. The modest little tune you hum between your lips is a stark contrast to his disgruntled huffs accompanying his dragging feet.

Bakugou thinks being here is not any different from what the other four are frolicking about outside. This might be the worse alternative, considering you give money to a machine that grants you an item at complete random. You have no way of knowing what or who you’re going to get until the colorful sphere pops out at the bottom. And then, in an instance, your anticipation fades away when you open it and receive the character no one particularly cares about—the little charm inevitably gathering dust, forgotten in the drawers of your desk. Overall, these toy capsule machines were just gluttons devouring the money of parents whose kids always whine about never getting what they wanted.

Still, because it’s you, he stays and watches you indulge in your little nostalgia trip.

As your eyes glide down the row of toy dispensers, trying your best to decipher the items contained behind the blurry glass, you chime in, “Say, Bakugou, don’t you have any memories of gacha machines?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow in contemplation. He racks through the nooks and crannies between the crevices of his mind and recalls some standout memories. “I guess. Few of ’em were stuck in front of the arcade place near my neighborhood,” he answers, but those memories immediately begin to sour the more he looks into the details.

You don’t see how his face slowly contorts with annoyance while he plays back a scene in his head.

At the time, Bakugou had only sprouted to the young age of five years old. He’s huddled around his posse in front of the arcade he mentioned, slotting a coin inside the capsule machine that was stocked full of charms of Pro Heroes, which housed a very special limited edition prize of All Might to honor their collaboration with the famous Number One of Japan.

The boy was positively giddy at what was to come out, remaining hopeful thanks to the giant poster of All Might gazing down upon him with his triumphant grin. Yet even when his squeaky little voice hollered out a “Plus Ultra!” to reinforce his luck, he was given dirt in response.

But you know who did get that mystery All Might prize?

Deku. Fucking Deku.

Right after he had his spin of the machine, the green-haired boy stepped up, gave it a go, and got All Might on his first fucking try. To say five-year-old Bakugou was bitter would only be putting it mildly. The unbridled emotions bundled in his tiny body were just waiting to burst in an explosion.

But in the end, did he fight Midoriya for it? No, he did not. For if he did, his mother would have scolded the hell out of him, and his young self reflected in the moment that avoiding parental wrath outweighed the limited edition Mystery All Might figure charm, as sad as that sounded. So since then, he’s tried to repress that memory in the far corners of his mind.

But it seems God just desires to spite him.

“Hey, look!” You pull lightly on his shirt to capture his attention, eyes trained forward at whatever piqued your interest. Bakugou peeks over your head, and what he’s met with does not please him.

“They have a gacha machine featuring Pro Heroes here!” you shout cheerfully, walking toward it with the hem of Bakugou’s shirt in hand, who begrudgingly follows along despite a groan nearly leaving his mouth.

“Isn’t this cool?” you ask. You squat down to peer into the peculiar machine located at the very bottom of the stack. Bakugou clicks his tongue as part of his reply, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

“No.”

“Hey, one day they’ll be making toys and charms of you as well, Mister ‘I’m Gonna Be The Number One Hero,’” you say with a giggle, and your comment sparks a bit of pink to dust his cheeks while he looks down at you from his standing position.

He attempts to join you and your fixation on the Pro Hero capsule machine. However, when he starts bending his knees, he finds this to be a bit difficult. The more he squats down, the more Bakugou realizes they truly made this place for children and not bulky teenagers like him training in hero school. His knees and bottoms almost brush up against the plastic sheen of the machines on each opposing side.

Though he has to fidget into a particular position to get somewhat comfortable, he eventually gets there and kneels next to you.

“Why don’t we give a go at this thing?” you suggest, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

“No way, these are a fucking waste of money,” he rejects.

“Hey it only costs two hundred yen!” you counter, “And plus, you might get a certain hero you want, like say... All Might?” You attempt to lure him in using his idol’s very name, but Bakugou doesn’t take the bait so easily and remains rigid in his stance.

Even if he did want to try for All Might, he’s sure his capsule is long gone by now anyway.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, pleaseee?” you draw out your pleas in a cute little tone that takes the blond by complete surprise. Unaware of how much power you have over him, the doe eyes and pout that paint your features make it difficult for him to maintain his hardened facade. Feeling his walls begin to melt away at the endearing sight, he ultimately grits his teeth, eyes shut as his hands rummage down into his pockets.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat, and that smile appears on your lips once again as you lift your arms in triumph.

Pulling out two separate hundred yen coins, he promptly slides them both into the coin silt. When he hears them clank against the other change inside, he goes for the handle and gives it a quick turn. One of the capsule balls begins its journey down the machine and quickly arrives at the hatch that Bakugou lifts to retrieve his prize.

Snapping the capsule open, he’s met with Endeavor’s ugly mug, seeming even more unsightly from the low-quality production of the charm. The paint job is beyond sloppy, with the colors on the costume not depicted accurately and the figure’s pupils drawn to make him appear cross-eyed.

“Hm, you got the number one hero,” you tease, lightheartedly nudging your elbow at his sides because you know full well it isn’t the number one hero he wanted. Bakugou ignores your taunts and shoves the flame hero’s plastic face down the depths of his pockets, making sure to give it to Todoroki later just to annoy him.

“Yeah yeah, your turn, princess.” He scooches a bit to his right to let you have your go. You gladly follow, taking out the two hundred yen from your money pouch.

Bakugou remains disinterested throughout the entire process but is still attentive enough to observe how you hum those casual tunes of yours despite doing something so mundane. He also starts absorbing the cute shape of your nose and the outline of your lips from this angle. It isn’t long until he realizes how close you are in this position, to the point where he could practically smell your fragrant scent, and soon that pink hue diffuses on his face again.

Fuck, I need to stop that, he urges.

By the time he turns away, the capsule machine has begun its machinations once again.

The sizable sphere descending the hatch this time has striped patterns of red, yellow, and blue, colors that remind him all too much of a certain Pro Hero— Wait. What the fuck—

“This one looks a bit bigger than the others, don’t you think? Wonder what... Oh, hey, it’s All Might!” You go through the emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and then finally, glee.

Bakugou feels like he’s reliving those horrible memories once again as he beholds the shiny, miniature figure nestling in your palms before you lift it to grant a better view of its glory. It twists around from how you pinch it by the attached string while it’s hovering in the air. When the Pro Hero’s face turns in the blond’s direction, it’s like the inanimate object is somehow taunting him.

Compared to Endeavor’s shitty charm, All Might’s is a proper representation of who he is. The better quality plastic molded accurately into the man’s figure, the crevices between his muscles delved into displaying his well-defined physique. The colors on his costume are all correctly painted in his signature red, white, yellow, and blue. They even got the broad grin and shadowy features on his face to the tee.

Whichever company created this toy indeed did All Might justice because it looks exactly like the one Midoriya unsealed right in front of his envious five-year-old eyes.

Bakugou’s body shakes with suppressed anger. His hands clench and then unclench themselves while in conflict with his thoughts. Then, he suddenly moves toward you, darting for the charm that you narrowly pull out from his grapples in time.

“L-Lemme see!” he demands, shifting his hand around to grab hold of it for some reason. The act has you befuddled while you continue to move the toy away to evade capture.

“Huh? Why?”

“I need... to fucking make sure— OOF—”

His sputters are the last things that escape his lips before he staggers off balance due to all those hasty movements. It sends his body toppling over yours onto the floor, where your head would’ve thumped against the hard ground had the boy’s well-trained instincts not maneuvered a hand beneath it in time to cushion your fall.

Your descent to the floor is not at all graceful, wincing slightly at the impact. It’s when the pain ebbs away that you and Bakugou finally realize the very awkward position you’re suddenly both in.

Bakugou is hovering over you, body between your legs as one of his hands is cradling your head. The other is situated next to your face against the ground to keep himself upright, letting his eyes stare down at your stricken expression.

Unknowingly, you had settled your hand on Bakugou’s shoulder out of impulse during fall. The other one is still grasping the All Might figure, which is unharmed despite the abrupt movements.

Bakugou can feel your even breaths caress his lips from how close in proximity both of your faces are in this position. If any of you so much as move the wrong way, your lips would undoubtedly collide into each other. Though Bakugou doesn’t mind the notion, he isn’t going to instigate it if you aren’t willing. But the way your eyes line toward his lips, giving him a similar enamored look to the one he has right now, it seems both of you are on the same page.

Taking your mutual fixations as the sign to continue, Bakugou draws himself forward to close the distance while you rise to meet him in the middle.

And finally, he gets to kiss those lips of yours. The lips that adorn your cute face he always snuck glances at. The lips so unhinged in their playful teasing toward him. The lips he’s been so mesmerized and bewitched by throughout this chaotic excuse of a shopping trip.

And when they meet, they’re as full and soft as he imagined them to be, melding perfectly against his.

The hand he’s nestled under your head allows him to press you further into the liplock. You’re nearly enveloped in his wistful machinations, wanting to drown in the sea of his affections as your arms find their way around him.

You would’ve allowed yourself to do so, if not for the unfortunate security camera you catch in the corner of your eye from where you laid.

Your eyes widen, staggering out of their half-liddedness. You pat your hand in rapid succession against his shoulder, getting the blond to stir and separate from the kiss—an act he detests as he doesn’t want the embrace to end.

“What?” he gruffs. You point up at the ceiling, and he turns in that direction. When he detects the security camera about to automatically shift toward this particular side of the Capsule Toy Gacha Room, his face grows full of panic. He lifts himself off your body immediately.

With the two of you remembering where you are, you rose from the ground and cleaned yourselves up. You try to appear pristine as possible, without letting any suspicion about what has happened get tossed in your direction. Still, the red faces plastering both of your features are already a dead giveaway.

“I… Uh…” Bakugou’s still lost in the haze of the heated moment, unsure of what words he should utter. Much to his relief, his burden lifts when two notifications from your phones ring in sync together, diverting your attention.

When you open your phone and slide across the notice, a text message from the Bakusquad ascends onto the screen.

Mina: heyyyy just finished going through all these vending machines! you wont believe how much money we spent!!

The message follows a selfie of the four holding a myriad of drinks and snacks together in the picture. You can’t suppress your giggle at the endearing sight. Another chime sounds when a new text pops up at the bottom.

Eijirou: let’s all meet up again at that blue mystery vending machine!

“Well, you heard them,” you say while clicking off your phone, “we better get a move on.”

Bakugou relays your words back in a slow nod, following through with a rough “yeah” that cleaves his throat. The two of you walk alongside each other once again while you leave the Capsule Toy Gacha Room. Only your steps padding against the mall’s confounds accompany the quiet atmosphere established between you two—awkward and a bit unnerving.

It’s when you’ve both made it to the meet-up spot in front of the blue vending machine that you alleviate yourselves of the strained tension.

“Soooo… was there any reason you wanted to get your hand on this thing so badly?” you question, drawing out the All Might charm that led those heated events to transpire. It dangles between your fingertips and glances at Bakugou along every rotation. The blonde bounces his eyes between you, All Might, and the ground, unsure if he should admit that he was acting out of childish jealousy and bitterness.

“I… Urgh… Fuck…”

You raise an eyebrow when he fumbles with his words. He mutters blatant obscenities between every possible resolve that crosses his mind.

“Look, forget it. It’s not important,” Bakugou concludes, but you think differently, not satisfied with his answer.

“No. Tell me.”

With that weight in your tone, Bakugou realizes he can’t avoid the subject any longer. He releases a long sigh as he leads you through the infamous tale, observing how your expression grows from concerned to downright amused.

“Really? You’ve held a grudge for that long?” The laughter you initially attempt to suppress ends up bubbling from your throat. Hearing it spurs Bakugou to clutch his hands together into shaky fists.

“Look. If you know me, then you should remember I never want to lose to fucking Deku. The fact he got the All Might charm right after I got garbage fucking pissed me off!” he exclaims loud enough for his harsh words to reach a couple walking by. They spare worried glances at the blonde when they stroll past him.

“Hmm…” you muse in thought. Bakugou can tell by the glint rising in your eyes and your tone that you’re up to something again. “I can give you mine if you want. But only for a very small price.”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what would that fucking price be?”

The smirk prominent on your pretty lips widens while you teeter your weight to your tippy-toes in front of him.

“A date. Just a single date will suffice,” you tell him, and Bakugou’s caught off guard by how simple the offer is. His delayed response has you leaning forward, appraising him for an answer.

“Well..?” You wave the charm before his eyes by the thin string as if to hypnotize him. But in all honesty, Bakugou knows that sweet smile of yours and luster in your eyes is all you need to have him wrapped around your finger.

His playful smirk surfaces his lips. He provides his answer by snatching the figure right from your dainty fingertips.

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

You happily clap your hands together. “It’s settled then! We’ll have a date here at the mall next week!”

“Hah?! Why the fucking mall again?!”

“Because we didn’t do much here anyway, so I say we should give it another shot together next week!”

“What? And go shopping? I don’t wanna be your bellboy the entire time—”

“Mom! Mom! Look at that boy’s All Might toy!”

You and Bakugou are both surprised by the new, high-pitched voice that enters in the middle of your riffraff. Your eyes trail along to sound and come face-to-face with a young boy staring at the toy in Bakugou’s hand.

“I want one too!”

Unable to control his gloating, Bakugou dangles the charm next to his face.

“Yeah well, too bad, kid. It’s mine so f—”

“Bakugou,” you warn. You halt the obscene words from entering the boy’s ears and avoid giving his mom a hard time.

“Argh… I mean... scram!”

You almost smack yourself. You can’t believe Bakugou has the guile to argue with a child at this age.

Though he forgoes the curses, that doesn’t make Bakugou’s words sound any less harsh. As a result, the kid pouts. He pouts hard. His eyes start to become glassy, lining the edge of his lashes with droplets. Recognizing her child on the verge of breaking out into tears, the mom acts quickly. She’s by his side, patting his back.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go to that blue vending machine over there and see if you can get a toy too,” she cheers him up instantly, dropping a hundred yen coin down her son’s small palm.

“Okay, mom!” he responds, gleeful again.

He dawdles over to the machine with purpose in his steps, inserting the coin, and pressing the lone button on the mystery vending machine.

You and Bakugou don’t perceive any noise emitting from the machine, and yet the little boy is putting his hands into the slot to pull something out.

“Mom, why did the machine give me a paper that says PS5?”

Both of you go rigid. Kaminari is not going to be happy hearing about this.

[exovapor]

The Adventure - TMNT Bitches:  Chapter 6

(Reminder, this story has been I the works since early July so any recent changes aren't in here...but I promise to make it up to my two loves not present)

.

CHAPTER 6:   Crossing Paths

·         It is here! It is FINALLY HERE!  Valerie can barely contain her excitement as she drives through the semi-familiar streets of the city she hates, except for one weekend out of the year, Dragon Con weekend!

·         It is Thursday, the official start of Dragon Con, or ‘con’ or ‘DC’, as it’s fans often referred to it as.  Dragon Con is the largest comic book/sci-fi/fantasy/horror/cosplay convention on the east coast and it happens every Labor Day weekend in Atlanta, GA.  

·         DC is always a cause for excitement for Valerie; however, this year is extra special!  Not only is she going to con, which is always the highlight of her year, but this time she is meeting up with some VERY special ladies that have helped her explore the fandom world of TMNT and who have become very close, dear, cherished friends.  

·         While everyone from their close knit group couldn’t make it this year, Lucy living in the UK and Kyla having prior commitments, she is still going to get to finally meet and hug the extraordinary talented fandom writers Holly, Kassie, and Kari!  Life just can’t be better!  

·         Well…maybe it could if TMNT actually existed…but…she couldn’t complain too much because these special ladies can bring the guys to life almost like no other person can!

·         Valerie’s tummy twists and tumbles as she pulls into the familiar parking deck just one block away from one of the main hotels to host the convention, the Marriott of Atlanta.  Valerie is antsy and anxious!  

·         She just wants to park, grab her suitcases and rush in to the hotel to join the other three women, whom have flown and driven into Atlanta from other parts of the US, and start their 4 day long party!  

·         As she rounds through the parking deck she’s not finding any available spots on the first few levels, looks like it’s going to be another crowded year at con!  As she driving up into the open air of the top level, she’s hoping to find one spot left or she’ll have to drive further away and she really hates navigating Atlanta’s one-way streets.  She may be from Georgia, but she detests Atlanta’s crazy crowded maze with a passion.  

·         Valerie is so focused on finding that one elusive empty parking spot that she isn’t fully aware of her surroundings.  As she rounds the corner of one row of cars, and angles to turn up the next aisle, her heart drops to her feet and she slams on the breaks in her SUV trying not to flatten the four MORONS standing in the middle of the driving lane.  

·         Cussing like a sailor, laying down on the horn, and hoping to all that is holy that the silver, 4,000lb, vehicle will stop in time to not kill the guys playing some form of LARP game in the middle of the parking deck.

·         Her ire flares like a campfire doused with kerosene!  

·         She was riding a high of anticipated fun bit now is jerked down to earth with a body-slam!  What the HELL are these guys thinking??

·         Sure, pretty much all types come out at con, the gamers, the goths, the cosplayers, the kinks, the through and through nerds/geeks, and even the LARPers…but JEEZ GUYS…don’t do it in the middle of the roadway!

·         Four sets of shocked eyes stare back at her from the middle of the lane.  And they just stand there…not moving!  She throws her hands up in the air and says out loud in the car, “What?!!  Don’t just stare at me like that!  Fucking move!”.  

·         Valerie starts shooing them out of the way with hand signals and they slowly back out of the way.  If she weren’t in such a tizzy and pissed off, at nearly being indicted for vehicular man-slaughter, she may have noticed and admired the handsome quartet.  After all, most LARPers don’t have bodies like these...muscles busting clothes at the seams and height on all of them; no, most LARPers looked like mommy still did their laundry for them and feed them too many Hot Pockets.

·         As she pulls up next to them, she lets down her window and growls out in her southern-ass-whoopin’-accent, “What the HELL do you think you are doing?  You idiots, stay out of the road!”.  Two sets of baby blue eyes, a set of emerald green, and a set of amber-green hazel stare at her dumbfounded and silent.  She doesn’t give the stunned group enough time to respond before she rolls up her window and drives on up the aisle and parks half-way up.

·         She sits in her front seat fuming, trying desperately to regain her composure.  She talks to herself, a normal thing out of habit, “Val, let it go.  Just let it go.  Forget about it, you are about to meet your wonder ladies in person and y’all are about to bring Atlanta to it’s knees over the next four days.  Ommmmmm…..(yoga centering…zen baby zen)…let it go.”.

·         Finally, feeling SLIGHTLY less murderous, she steps out of her truck and moves to the back and lifts the hatch to retrieve her suitcase.  She has most of her costumes and items packed in bags and her rolling suitcase; however, the katanas for her Leonardo costume would not fit in any of the bags, so she slings the holster, with the twin sheathed blades crisscrossed, onto her back.  She straps her green turtle-shell backpack onto the extended handle of her rolling suitcase, she locks up her truck and starts rolling her suitcase down the aisle head towards the parking deck staircase.

·         As she gets close to the end of the car aisle, she can see the LARPing quartet still standing where she left them.  ‘Ugh, morons’, she thinks to herself.

·         As she walks past, the quiet conversation they were having suddenly stops and they all stare at her with mild confusion, amusement, and interest.  Valerie isn’t one to accept blatant staring.  She doesn’t like to be ‘seen’.  She is the wall-flower type, the one who likes to stand in the back.  She’s the Observer, not the Observee…so she becomes irked by their stares and stops and faces them, “WHAT?!!”, she asks staring challengingly back at them.

·         No answer comes from the quiet group, just four sets of eyes staring at her in…what is that? Shock?  Amusement? Their expressions are such a mixture that she can’t quite pin-point the expressions playing across their handsome faces.  

·         So she stands there, with the blue tendrils from the hilts of her katanas whipping in the wind, staring back at them.  

·         One set of eyes stares with more intensity than the others.  They are discerningly more intense; like they are searching, evaluating, noting qualities and vulnerabilities.  It makes her uneasy.  However, she isn’t one to show a predator weakness, no matter what they threaten her with, so she stares back just as intently, refusing to turn her back on them.

·         In staring, Valerie becomes acutely aware of their size.  These guys are all tall, two of them VERY tall, and all of them are well built.  Actually, one of them is a fucking monster.  Forget eating his Wheaties for breakfast; that red haired one looks like he ate the whole damn Wheaties truck, tires and all! This would not turn out well if they decided attacking the alone girl in the parking deck was more fun than LARPing in the parking deck.  

·         Valerie wants to get to the safety of the crowds below, but she doesn’t feel safe retreating into a closed stairwell with these guys fixated on her presence.

·         ‘Maybe yelling at them earlier wasn’t the best idea, me and my temper…shit!  What are they talking about and WHY does that one keep staring at me so hard?  Jeez, dude, get your own life and stop trying the stare me out of mine’, she thinks to herself.  

·         The staring match goes on for an uncomfortably long time, finally they start to move backward as a group, putting more space between her and them.  

·         Just as Valerie is starting to consider how fast she can out run all four of them, another car, searching for its own elusive parking spot, comes rolling through the driving lane.  Thankful for the distraction, the active presence of witnesses, and a reason to move on, Valerie leaves the LARPing group watching her rolling her suitcase towards the stairwell.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @kokokatsworld @the-second-circle-of-shell

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

First Kiss

Pairing: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: The safety of your uwu's. We got stuff from me writing at 3 AM, which is basically Sugar Sap Hours TM, so be warned. Also if you don't like kissing. Idk why you would keep reading if you didn't, but yeah there's some detail.

This is what I mean when I say that I am little more than a hopeless romantic.

If this is bad then that's because the last time I kissed someone was when I was six years old.

Enjoy!

-Sugar

.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima

Midoriya:

● Boy was so nervous

● Truth be told, he'd wanted to kiss you long before you started dating, but he never knew how to ask

● It had been a month or so into the relationship, and you'd begun to take notice that the two of you hadn't gone any further than hand holding

● You didn't want to pressure Izuku into something he didn't want to do, neither of you did. It was just that—you longed to feel his lips pressed against yours, and with each passing day the temptation only worsened

● One afternoon, Izuku had just gotten back from his hero training session. You had been watching with the rest of the class as he sparred against Tokoyami. After a hard fight from the both of them, Midoriya had finally come out on top and won against him

● He walked back into the observation room, still panting slightly as he adjusted his protective gloves

● You felt so proud of him. That was your boyfriend and he was a m a z i n g

● Most of the class crowded around and congratulated him as he walked in, and Aizawa sensei even gave him an approving nod

● The glow his eyes had taken on pulled you in, and, before you knew it, what was meant to be a congratulatory hug from you turned into a kiss

● It was quick, your lips barely pushing into each other before you pulled away, but it still had a massive impact

● The whole class (minus the few who had left to get ready for their turn) erupted into cheers and 'OHH!'s

● You both turned bright red and jumped apart, Izuku unable to do anything other than stand glued in place and grin sheepishly

● Once Aizawa had settled everyone down, you pulled your boyfriend towards the back of the room

● "Sorry," you apologized immediately. "I got carried away and—"

● "Why are you sorry?" Izuku asked, suddenly incredulous

● "I just wasn't sure if you were ready—"

● "Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you?" he cut you off, keeping his voice low so prying ears wouldn't be able to listen in *AHEM, Mina and Kaminari*

● Your face flushed a whole new shade darker. "I may have an idea . . . . I've felt the same way."

● Izuku took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the side. "If you want to start now, we can."

● "I'd like that."

● He bit his lip, blushing again as he put a hand on the back of his neck. "We could do some more . . . once class is out."

● Your eyes shone, already giddily anticipating meeting Izuku in his room. "That sounds wonderful."

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

Bakugou:

● It was no secret among the Bakusquad that a certain explosive blond had taken interest in you

● It started with Mina noticing the subtle glances (*stares) he'd throw you, then she enlisted Kirishima to ask him, which only lead to a solid confirmation from Bakugou himself (and Eijirou nearly getting his face blasted off), which then was spread to Sero and Kami

● Within a matter of days, Bakugou's crush on you had simply become common knowledge to the four of them, and now they had to decide on what to do about it

● There was some teasing, of course, in the week that followed; Sero or Kaminari lightly jabbing at him with their elbows when they caught Bakugou absentmindedly watching you

● But Mina wanted more than that, and the others were quick to agree

● One afternoon when classes were over for the day, the quartet were hanging out in the common room. You happened to wander by, looking for something to do and they waved you over excitedly

● They invited you into a game of truth or dare, which they had 100% NOT started just because you walked in

● "Oh, (Y/N), just in time," Sero called out to you. No one other than you missed the way Bakugou shifted in his seat across the room at the sound of your name, back turned to the group

● So as not to seem suspicious, everyone went around a few times, playing their turn

● When everyone's eyes turned toward you for the third time, Denki finally took the opportunity to quietly dare you to go over, kiss Bakugou, and live

● Nothing much, just on the cheek if you could

● You, who were blissfully unaware of Bakugou's feelings towards you, happily accepted, already anticipating seeing the look of pure rage on his face

● You sauntered toward the gremlin boy, who was sitting on a couch across the floor, not paying any attention to the game that was going on mere feet away as he read over one of his notebooks from class

● You leaned over the back of the couch, positioning your face at a perfect angle level with his

● "Hey, Kacchan."

● His head whipped around at the name, giving you perfect access to plant your lips soundly on his cheek for a solid half second before bolting off as fast as you could

● Bakugou just sat there for a second, dumbstruck and trying to process what just happened

● Had that been you? Really you? The (Y/N) who had been stubbornly and oh so agonizingly plaguing his mind for the past two months? Kissing him on the cheek and calling him Kacchan???

● Your speedily retreating form confirmed it for him, plain as day, and he wasted no time in jumping up and vaulting over the couch to chase after you

● Your mind and heart raced in tandem as you finally heard his footsteps slapping after you, running barefoot down the hardwood floored hall

● I'mgonnadie I'mgonnadie I'mgonnadie

● You couldn't help but allow giggles to escape your lips, however, especially when you heard little popping noises behind you, signaling Bakugou was firing off tiny explosions in what you could only assume to be rage

● You began to panic as you realized his legs were longer and he was faster than you. You yelped as searing hands grabbed your shoulders and pressed you against the nearby wall, signaling your defeat

● You were uncertain as to what you should do now, having not thought so far ahead. His hands were now resting firmly on either side of you, caging you in as the both of you lightly panted from the excitement of your short chase

● You defiantly shoved down and silenced the voice in your head that was screaming that he would certainly kill you and spit on your grave, opting to instead grin smugly at his face which had curled into a bit of a snarl

● Oh, how handsome your murderer-to-be was. You couldn't help but finally notice the fact now that you had kissed death, both literally and figuratively

● "So this is how it ends," you said, straining to keep your voice steady and the smile on your face. "If it makes you feel any better, I did it on a dare. Denki's fault."

● Confusion suddenly contorted your face as you watched Katsuki's fall. "That didn't mean anything?"

● You blinked. "Uhh, should it?"

● Katsuki's carmine glare never ceased in its intensity. He harshly bit his lip before removing one of his hands from the wall to drag over his mouth; processing

● You stayed in place, mind racing as to what he might mean. Had he enjoyed it? Did he like the thought of it? Had the Bakugou Katsuki developed . . . feelings for you?

● Of course you knew Katsuki wasn't lacking in the looks department. As you made your rounds assessing all the boys in your class, just like most high school girls do, he most certainly crossed your mind as not bad

● His personality had turned you off a bit, but you knew enough about yourself by now that you were a damned sucker for a bad boy

● His red eyes, which had trailed down to the floor as his mind raced through thoughts of his own only made your face heat

● The way his lips pouted ever so slightly, already enticing you to lean back in for seconds

● No, you told yourself. Begone, thot. Thought? Ha ha. This means nothing, you're just overthinking like you always do.

● You shifted your weight between your feet a few times, trying to physically distract yourself from how close his face was to yours

● Katsuki looked back up at you, disturbed a bit by your antsy squirming

● "What do you want me to do?" you finally asked him, wanting to mull over these intrusive thoughts in the silent privacy of your room. Maybe die in a hole later. You never knew.

● "I want you to do it right this time."

● "What?"

● "If you want to, kiss me like you mean it. If not, you can always go." He kept one arm at his side, open for you to slip away from him if you so chose

● But you didn't want to choose that option. Your head spun, trying to keep up with everything that was going on around you

● It was all so fast, and yet—you loved it

● Shutting down your brain entirely, you grabbed at the back of Katsuki's head and kissed him, full on the lips

● His eyes widened in surprise, having half expected you to slide out from under him and walk away, but no, you were kissing him and it was both everything and nothing like he'd imagined and your lips were so soft and—

● He pushed back into you, fisting your hair in his hands. He was rough and unpracticed, but what he lacked in sweetness he made up for in unapologetic passion

● His teeth knocked against yours and your heart soared in excitement, warmth flooding your body in ways you'd scarcely glimpsed the feeling of

● A sudden cheer brought you both out of your heightened euphoria, Katsuki pulling away and whipping his head around so fast you nearly whimpered at the loss of his lips against yours

● You were just able to see four bodies briskly retreating around the corner, absolutely cackling as Bakugou embarked on his second chase of the day; blushing up a storm and screaming considerably louder at his friends than he had at you

● You brushed the tips of your fingers over your still hot lips, still tingly after what they'd just experienced

● Smirking to yourself, you leaned back against the wall, coming down from your adrenaline high as you attempted to slow your pounding heart back to its normal pace

● He would be back. Boys like him always were. You would talk about your status and becoming official then, but for now, you were content to listen to the echoing explosions sounding off in the other room

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

Todoroki:

● Even after a few months, Shouto was still getting used to the whole idea of 'dating'.

● You were his first s/o, so he wasn't really certain what he was meant to do

● Nevertheless, he tried everything he could think of to be a good boyfriend

● He'd of course noticed that couples kissed, and now that he had you, he wondered if you would like it and what it would feel like

● The two of you were just vibing in your room, doing homework together as you liked to

● Shouto looked up at you to find that you were concentrating on a math equation, nibbling on the end of your pencil

● Your lips suddenly looked so full and soft and enticing, and Shouto couldn't think of anything other than having them pressed against his

● He had been staring at you for quite some time, so you looked up

● "Need something, Sho?" you asked, wondering why he was looking at you like that

● "Can I ask you something?" he asked

● "Sure."

● "Would you mind if we ever . . . kissed?"

● You blinked, taken aback by the completely unexpected question

● "Uhh, like . . . right now?"

● "That would be nice."

● You blushed and smiled. "Sure."

● You moved your notebooks behind you so you could have room to sit close to each other, sliding forward until you were comfortably in front of him

● Shouto felt semi prepared. He had watched exactly five videos and read two articles on this. How hard could it be?

● He touched your cheek, looking into your eyes as he ran his thumb over your skin

● Shouto leaned in, simultaneously guiding you closer to his face

● His nose fell in place next to yours as he gently brushed his lips over your soft pink skin

● You were surprised with how well and confidently he was kissing you, blissfully unaware of his search history

● He left several little pecks against your lips before finally pressing them flush against his in a deeper kiss

● Your eyes had fluttered shut, experimentally pushing back as his lips moved against yours

● It wasn't long before your mouths had opened and your tongues were gently tapping against each other, aching to explore a foreign cavern

● It was only then that you began to notice just how warm he'd gotten—yet simultaneously cold?

● You flicked your eyes open to see that Todoroki's right side had begun to frost over slightly, his left sending waves of heat rolling onto your body

● You reluctantly pulled away, Shouto's lips cutely chasing after you for a second before he opened his eyes

● "What is it?"

● "Is this getting too intense for you?" you asked

● "Not really. Why?"

● "Your, uh, quirk."

● Shouto glanced down, only now realizing how much he'd unwittingly let it activate

● The frost patches quickly receded, and the heat abated slightly, though to say your own cheeks weren't burning in their own way would be a flat out lie

● "Sorry about that," Shouto apologized

● "It's fine," you waved off, trying to keep your giddy expression toned down

● "So did you . . . enjoy it?" he asked

● "Yeah." Your voice was breathy as you ran a hand through your hair

● Todoroki allowed himself a small smile before settling back into his seat on your bed

● "Want to do it some more later?"

● "Of course!"

● Needless to say, it wasn't long before the two of you had become total pros at kissing

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

Kirishima:

● Kirishima is a very romantic kind of guy

● He'd been thinking about kissing you for a while, but decided it would be more manly to wait for the most perfect moment possible when he could be certain that that was what you both wanted

● You'd gone on a couple of dates together, but he hadn't taken the opportunity to kiss you yet

● Finally, he couldn't get the thought out of his head, the urge to take a step further in your relationship ever-present in his mind

● He planned for it a few days in advance, making sure to get a good time for when you were both free

● It was late when he came to collect you, around eleven o'clock

● He led you outside into the night, making sure the both of you were quiet as he guided you along

● Soon enough, you reached your destination, which was simply a small blanket laid out over a patch of grass in an open area right under the stars

● You both sat down next to each other, the warm night air keeping you just at the right temperature

● Kirishima watched as the light of the stars reflected and twinkled in your eyes, and he thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful as your features lit in their glow

● You began to point out your favorite constellations, tracing the groupings of stars with your finger as you held out your hand to the night sky

● "I love them," you said, referring to the sparkling lights. "Do you ever think about just how far away they are? It's all just so magical and humbling all at once. They may look like little pinpoints of light but we're the small ones, you know?"

● Your voice was so soft in his ear as you scarcely dared to raise it above a whisper. It soothed him, making his eyelids feel comfortably heavy

● Your body pressed closer into his, leaning against him while you looked up and mused

● "They're never gone, either," you continued. "Do you ever think about that? The sun is just too bright for us to be able to see them during the day, but they're there all the same, watching over us."

● Kirishima wanted to be there for you forever, making sure you were happy and safe

● Your wide (E/C) eyes drew him in, your words making his mind swirl

● Before he knew it, his nose had brushed against your cheek, causing your head to turn at the contact

● Your nose bumped against his, and the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips caused your cheeks to warm

● "You know," he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours, "you're more beautiful than all the stars in the sky."

● Before he could close the remaining distance between you, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle

● "That was really cheesy," you remarked, closing your eyes and letting a small breathy snort leave your nose

● "Aww, what?" Eijirou pulled back a little, causing you to open your eyes again in disappointment at the lack of contact. "I meant it, it's true. And a super manly thing to say."

● You couldn't help but notice the tiny flicker of anxiety in the backs of his ruby red eyes, worried he'd done something wrong

● You couldn't resist that look, the way he pouted ever so slightly, just scarcely able to make out the outlines of his endearingly abnormally sharp teeth

● In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to feel those lips against your own, to feel what those teeth would feel like under your tongue

● "You're right," you finally said, reaching up to hold the back of his head in your hand, fallen red spikes tangling between your fingers

● You pulled him close and let your mouths move together, hesitation quickly changing to courage the longer you left each small peck

● Eijirou was quite possibly the sweetest guy you knew, but you'd never experienced anything so sweet as his kisses. There was no heat behind them, but the passion and love for you was evident all the same

● He eventually pulled away to caress your face, hand cupping your cheek with softest care

● You leaned into his touch and gazed up into his eyes; freckled by the light of the stars. Somehow, the reflections seemed even better than the real ones hung in the tapestry of the atmosphere

● Eijirou pulled you onto his lap and into his chest, where you instinctively clutched and buried your nose into the soft fabric of his t-shirt

● He hummed a little in his throat, beginning to rock back and forth ever so gently as he held you in his arms. You could hear his heart softly pounding deep within him

● His warmth lulled you to slumber, allowing you to slip into the depths of sleep without you scarcely taking notice

● Kirishima allowed you a few minutes to settle, switching between gazing into your sleeping face and back up at the stars

● He finally stood, carrying your limp form back to your room, where he laid you out on your bed and tucked you in

● He felt like he'd done well, and finally went to sleep himself, the taste of your lips still tingling on his tongue

.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇

So, uh, I was going to do Amajiki and Shinsou but I low-key ran out of time and ideas so . . . yeah. Maybe I'll do them later, but probably not. Idk. If someone asked for it I would but for now . . . probably nah.

Anyway, I really liked how these turned out! I hope you did too! My favorite is probably Bakugou's, but I also super enjoyed Kiri's.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day!

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sokkasangel​ @xoxopam4

[huaxxian]

Stone Skipping || CH2 ; 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯

Half a year had passed since [name] and Senku had been revived at the very same day. Experiments were conducted, their home slightly improved, but the two had still made no other progress with the revival serum. Despite that, neither had given up, instead opting to continue trying.

The two teenagers had been gathering sticks in an area near their home, each having an axe of their own. “[nickname],” Senku looks down at their form, who sat in the very same branch he was standing on. Said person looked up at him, tilting their head. “You brought the basket, right?” They nodded in response, silently pointing at the basket below their branch. He nodded thankfully, adjusting the sticks gathered in his arms.

He could see them move to take it from his grasp, but he gave a pointed look, saying, “Don’t you dare take it. I already made you carry three other baskets back home.” A pout overtook their face, but nonetheless, they nodded and sat back down as he cut even more sticks from the upper branches.

rustle, rustle

step, step, step

[name] perked up at the sounds, turning their head to look past Senku’s form. Not even a moment later, an oh-so-ever-familiar form popped from the bushes as he pushed it aside, breathing heavily. The smile on their face widened as Taiju’s eyes widened at the sight of the duo. “S-Senku..! [nickname]!” His eyes teared up.

I found them! They’re alive!

From beside the shorter teenager, Senku smirked at him. “Kukuku, so you finally woke up, eh? You great big oaf, stop making your sibling worry for so long. You don’t want to see them with white hair so quickly, now do you?” He quickly moved down from the tree, offering his hand to [name] after, helping them down.

Immediately upon the teenager’s safe landing on the floor, Taiju started wailing, opening his arms to hurriedly give a hug their way. Not even concerned in the slightest, all [name] did was open their arms, beaming right back.

"You're alive, you're alive!! Senku, [nickname]! I c-can't believe it.."

Well, if [name] wasn't the slightest bit concerned, Senku most definitely was. Placing a foot on his face, the male hurriedly pushed the shortest out of Taiju's way, which ended up being behind him. "Don't hug either of us when you're buck naked, idiot! I'll fucking kill you!" [name] gave his back a pat, shaking their head. "Sen-chan, don't be too mean. You know it's completely just how Tai-chan is." They smiled, turning to the said person. "It's nice to see you after so long.. I would give you a hug, but.. I don't think Sen-chan would let me."

Taiju returned his sibling figure's smile. "It's okay! I get it.." He scratches his head sheepishly, laughing it off. "I think?" They giggled in response, motioning their head to follow them, which he did. Starting their trek back home, Senku spoke, "As of today, it's October 5th, in the year 5738 AD. How long you planning on sleeping in, huh?"

He pointed at [name], who was beside him, skipping as they went. "We've been awake and working for over a half a year now." Taiju blinked in surprise, the information slowly processing in his brain as seconds passed. "Huh?" The brawn of the group looked over to the other brain, confusion evident on his face. "How does Senku know just precisely what the date is..?"

[name] closed their eyes and smiled at him. "Sen-chan just counted, is all." Senku picked at his ear, scoffing. "As if there's another way of keeping track."

Another slow moment of processing.

"..So then, inside that darkness.. the whole time, you.." He glanced at [name] once more. "Did you too..?" His tone of voice had softened considerably, and so had his features. They shook their head. "It was just him, and I knew even then." They smiled and looked forward as Senku pushed aside the branches ahead of them.

"Even if I was able to wake up through sheer willpower alone.. If I were to wake up without means of survival in the midst of winter and with no food supply, it'd be game over. That's why, in order to survive, it was essential that I start in spring."

"That's also precisely why Sen-chan needs an accurate calendar," [name] added, "He wouldn't be able to know otherwise, and luck would be too much of a risk to depend on." Taiju placed a hand under his chin, opening his mouth to ask another question when Senku jerked his head to the front. "Hey, we're here. Don't just stand around gawking, get your ass over here and help out."

Brown eyes widened in astonishment. It wasn't no fancy house, but it was stable and enough. A simple rack made of sticks and vines leaned on the tree's huge trunk, holding several stone spears. "I haven't had enough manpower. [nickname] was of great help, but I didn't want to burn them out than what was necessary. That'd be stupid, I'd be working the only other person in this world death. It took up to an entire day of just drawing up life and survival plans on my own, while they hunted for food and materials. To progress forward into some kind of civilization from here.." He trailed off, glancing behind him to where the two stood, listening to his explanation.

"We've been waiting for you all this time," Taiju pointed to himself, confusion heavily lacing his face. "Yes, you, damnit Taiju. We waited for you because we were both ten billion percent sure that you were alive!" [name] walked forward, now beside the scientist. "You decided to tell Yuzu-chan about your feelings prior to the petrification, and we both knew Tai-chan well enough to know that you wouldn't give up after deciding so."

"Especially not after being cut off in the middle of a man's resolve," he huffed and smirked. "You weren't ball-less to the point of giving up and throwing in the towel after just a measly thousand years!"

Taiju looked down, clenching his fist. It was silent for a few seconds, but as always, with them, it doesn't last long. The fiery determination they had gotten accustomed to seeing had returned ten-fold, and they could only stare as he agreed.

"You're damned right!"

The scientist of the quartet looked over at his assistant. "Can ya get him some damn clothes already?" His nose scrunched in disgust as he pointed shakily at the muscular student, earning a confused and completely innocent look in return. [name] laughed at his obvious disgruntlement, nodding. "I'll go get clothes for Tai-chan!" They waved before carefully climbing their so-called ladder and hurrying inside.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

It didn't take long before Taiju had gotten his clothes, and before [name] was forced to rest by the one and only scientist of the group. The two had bickered back and forth repeatedly; Senku insisted that they take a break, since they apparently wouldn't be getting a lot even with Taiju around. Despite his confusion, Taiju agreed with this, making them reach a compromise.

[name] would rest just as the two wanted them to, but not up in the hut. Instead, they'd be napping on a covered area on the ground near the fire Senku was trying to make.

"When we need to use our heads.. I'll leave the thinking up to the two of you, Senku." Taiju glanced at his napping sibling. "And when we need to use our bodies.. you leave that to me." Senku glanced over as well. They looked comfortable enough, not at all irritated by the grass or the fire crackling nearby. Sleeping like a baby, they simultaneously thought, amused.

Senku turned towards Taiju once more. The time humanity took to climb from the stone age to our previous civilization.. was two million years. But, we're going to dash all the way back to the top all at once. "We'll take back the world and I'll identify the scientific cause on why we turned into stone, and how we were revived.. with the help of [name]."

Careful not to shout as he usually does, Taiju nodded and added, "And then.. I'll save Yuzuriha!"

"Three high school kids.. are going to build civilization from zero. We'll become the Adam and Eve of this world." Senku smirked widely, standing up and placing his hands on his waist. "Now, things are starting to get exciting!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The two were calm and quite frankly, inspired by each other's goals, only to panic as [name] sleepily moved around, adjusting their place during their sleep. They covered each other's mouths and stared worriedly down at the shortest of them three, but fortunately, they didn't wake up. Taiju and Senku looked at each other and nodded, vowing not to cause anymore noise.

Senku pointed at their tree house and mouthed, "Bring them up." The other caught on to this instantly and carefully scooped them up in his arms, making sure that they were comfortable and left asleep. Then, without much difficulty, Taiju brought them upstairs, his friend following in tow. He placed them down on their make-shift bed, pulling the extra animal skin they had used as a blanket over them not long after, patting their head affectionately.

Taiju blinked and turned to Senku. "Wait, so was it just you guys this whole time?" The male in question raised his eyebrow. "Yeah, it's just been us." Taiju stared at him, expecting him to say something. "Why are you staring at me like that for??" He opened his mouth, pointing as he whispered, "You didn't tell them about your fee—"

Senku quickly put a zip on his mouth, grumbling.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

The next morning, [name] had woken up to Senku and Taiju still sleeping. It must be pretty early still.. They pushed the blanket away from their form, standing up silently. The teen carefully walked down the ladder, keeping an eye out on the two until they were out of their vision. A yawn escaped their mouth as they stretched their arms and shoulders, shaking their head as they did. What to do..?

[eye color] eyes looked around. They could go hunting for food like mushrooms and animals, but it would be more efficient for Taiju to do it, because he was literal brawn. Though, maybe I should come with Tai-chan later on if he does end up gathering food.. He might take poisonous mushrooms along. [name] could make more jars or baskets, but Senku would most definitely scold them for working too hard. Again.

Honestly, they can't see what he's talking about.

So instead, they opted to walk towards the high school primate's statue. If they could remember correctly, which they could, Tsukasa Shishio's statue was not too far from Yuzuriha and the camphor tree.

True to their memory, it really wasn't far. No animals in sight, nor any other statues in his area. Nature's green, green, and more green is all that could be seen. Pretty, [name] smiled to themselves, gathering the bunch of dahlias and other flowers into their arms. Without much struggle at all, they weaved the bunch into a gorgeous flower crown, one that would surely fit snugly on Tsukasa's head.

They brought it on the male's head, fixing the vines and the petals softly, making sure that his vision wasn't obscured whatsoever. Next, they took a few steps back, admiring their work. As I thought, it does fit Tsuka-chan. [name] nodded in approval and sat down on a nearby root, humming a song they especially liked from back then.

I wonder how everything became like this.. A time-lapse would be interesting to see.

They looked down on the dirt. It was devoid of rocks, unlike the last few areas they've been in. Upon realizing, the teen immediately takes a stick and begins drawing on the ground. Three pairs of nubs.. three heads too. Leek for hair, spiky hair, wavy hair.. Rocket ship. Proud, they grinned and tilted their head, staring down at their work.

It wasn't the best of art, of course. It was merely three little chubby figures that represented the trio that they so deeply treasured. Their proud green faded, and soon, a frown had taken its place. Something's missing.. Quickly, [name] erased the rocket ship outline with their foot to make space. Then, without a shadow of a doubt, they added one more figure.

Long hair and buffy arms.. It's Tsuka-chan!

The grin from before returned anew. The rocket ship outline was quickly drawn again, and for this time, they were satisfied.

"I wonder if Tai-chan is already awake.. or Sen-chan.." They yawned and stood up, brushing away the not-so imaginary dirt around of their skirt. [eye color] eyes glanced behind to check on the statue one last time before smiling. "I'll see you soon, Tsuka-chan.."

With that, they turned back, walking back home.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

When they had arrived, the two were already awake and kicking, arranging their respective areas. Taiju had noticed them first, and with a happy shout, had alerted Senku as well. "You're back," the scientist nodded towards them in greeting. In contrast to his reaction, Taiju immediately got down from their little hut and bounded towards his sibling, hugging them tightly.

"Keep hugging them like that and they'll run out of air, you big idiot." Senku retorted as he followed suit, albeit less enthusiastically and more calmly. [name] only smiled in return, patting the taller on the back. "Big oaf, you up for gathering food?" Enthusiastically, the male in mention nodded his head, quickly taking a basket from nearby. [eye color] eyes glanced at the scientist, as if waiting.

Feeling their expectant stare, Senku snickered and picked at his ear with his pinky. "Of course, you're joining him too [nickname]. Keep him out of trouble, and make sure the idiot doesn't get himself attacked or poisoned." He pressed a hand against his mouth, as if trying to block the snickers.

Not that he was actually trying, though. It was actually the opposite.

Satisfied and amused, [name] closed their eyes and smiled, taking a basket as well. Taiju immediately dashes off, leaving a trail of dust behind him, and causing it to spread everywhere. [name] coughed and looked away from all the sand and dust before waving at the scientist. "We'll make sure not to take too long, Sen-chan.."

Senku gave another nod before turning away. The [hair color]-haired teen hurried, and with some effort, was able to catch Taiju before he could get too far from them.

"[nickname], what should we gather first?" [eye color] eyes looked around cautiously, taking in the environment. From what they could tell, there were some pigs nearby. The rustling as well as their familiar grunts is what gave it away. They quickly pressed a finger to their mouth, to which Taiju immediately silenced himself, waiting for their next order.

"There are pigs nearby. We don't know where the mushrooms are at right now, and since the pigs seem to be a closer choice, let's go with that.." [name] spoke as softly as they could, but loud enough for Taiju to still understand their message. He nodded in determination and moved to single-handedly take any pig on, but stopped as they placed a pale hand on their arm, halting him in his position. He looked towards his sibling in confusion, tilting his head.

[name] smiled at him and shook their head, motioning him to stay still, so he did. Taiju watched curiously as the teen quietly grabbed onto a branch and pulled their upper body up, causing them to now stand. Surprisingly enough, despite all the movement, the rustle of leaves seemed natural, as if it was just a rustle of the wind and not a teenager climbing a tree. He could only watch as [name] looked down at him from their position above, saying, "Please stay here, Tai-chan.. I'll bring them to you, so brace yourself to catch one or two, okay?"

Taiju beamed up at them. "Okay." He responded, lowering his stance and opening his arms wide. His sibling smiled at his determination and switched from tree to tree, getting closer to the area of the pigs, as evidenced by the growing sound of grunts. Few adults.. few young ones, [name] mused to themselves. Some squeals were pitched, but majority weren't.

I can't overwhelm Tai-chan with too many pigs. I can't trap them when they're this close either. The very best I can do is to get one or two younger pigs.. But how do I? They glanced around. They moved to another tree, one that was to the left of the pigs. Tai-chan is to the right. The pigs can't move to the north, there's no entrance or exit there. It's blocked. [name] quickly stood still and observed keenly from above.

There were four adults, but only two piglets to be seen. Sen-chan would be satisfied with one, or at the very most, two of them.

And so, they formulated a plan.

Without further a do, they dropped from the tree, not bothering to cover the noise. The pigs became alert, and soon enough, their eyes had caught on to the teen's form. They grew increasingly loud in sound and scattered, moving towards their left, the other remaining direction for escape. Quickly reacting, [name] ran towards the two mini-groups (stomping and making loud noise with their feet all the while), forcing the piglets to separate from their adults. This time, they moved towards Taiju's direction, just as they had planned.

[name] immediately began creating even more noise, as well as increasing their speed. In panic, the pigs hurried even closer towards Taiju's direction.

Any moment now. [eye color] eyes made contact with familiar brown ones, and they nodded. Taiju shouted as he tackled the two piglets into his grasp, making the shorter of the two smile and stop abruptly. With heavy breathing, they helped him place one piglet in each of their baskets.

"That was a good idea, [nickname]!" Taiju laughed and gave them a particularly hard pat on the back in congratulations, causing them to lose all the air they had regained and double over, coughing all the while.

"Ack— I'm sorry [nickname]!!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Wow, you guys got so much," Senku stared down at the two's baskets, which now sat on the floor. "You got some crazy cheats going with your endurance there, Taiju.." He trailed off as he glanced to his assistant. "You didn't just dash wherever did you? [nickname] looks like they went through a hurricane." The scientist laughed as he pointed at them.

He wasn't wrong there. The poor [hair color]-haired teen had their hair all over their face, with tangles way more than they'd like. Leaves, petals, and even sand had gotten into their hair as well; Senku could only wonder what the hell Taiju had put them through to come back this haggard. [name] only smiled patiently as Taiju turned red in embarrassment, causing him to laugh even more.

"He did exactly that, actually.." Their words only made Taiju shout apologies, to which they shook their head at in amusement. "I couldn't stop him at all, sorry Sen-chan.." They chuckled and jokingly bowed their head in apology. Senku snickered again and walked towards them, patting away all the sand away from their hair. He removed the leaves and petals along the way, tugging gently at the strands that had gotten tangled.

"Don't you worry about it at all. I can't blame you when he's like this." He ignored Taiju's pouting at the side and only continued fixing his [hair color]-haired friend's head. It didn't take much arranging to actually clean [name] up, and soon enough, all was well. They smiled at him gratefully and he returned it slightly before backing away and moving towards the baskets.

Taiju watched in curiosity as he sat on the ground, expecting him to do something completely different, only to see him blatantly separating what they had found. [name], on the other hand, watched in amusement at their brother's reaction as Senku began listing them all off. "Amanita virosa, poisonous! Hypsizygus tessellatus, brown clamshell, edible! Amanita muscaria, Fly agaric, poisonous! Can't you just tell that thing's no good?! It looks like it came from Mario!"

With every mentioned name, Taiju's confused and aghast expression worsened, making them chuckle. "Calm down, Sen-chan.. That was a pretty good haul for the first time. I'm sure Tai-chan will take that into mind next time?" The two looked over to him. One stare was filled with doubt, and the other was one of utter patience and belief. Taiju doesn't respond, only choosing to blink at them in confusion. Senku sighed, "He probably won't, you know. Oh well, I'll bid you good luck when the time comes."

The scientist takes a few of the edible mushrooms and placed them on the sticks over the fire. The trio surrounded the fire they had made in silence, waiting for Senku's word. He first handed a decent-sized one over to Taiju, then proceeded to give an even bigger mushroom to the other teen. [name] blinked slowly as Senku gave them a stern glance. "Get some more fat in your bones, you look like you could get blown away by the wind any moment now."

From beside the [hair color]-haired teen, Taiju also added, "You always ate too less during lunch time too! Get some more food!" He immediately begins handing more mushrooms over to them, with Senku following right away. "I don't think I can stomach t-this much, you two.." [name] gently pushed the food away and just stuck with the one the scientist had given them. "But, I guess I can try eating this one at least..?" they smiled.

It wasn't the best compromise, but it satisfied the two males enough to leave them alone for now. Taiju took the first bite, making [name] and Senku stare expectantly. "D-Delicious!" He shouted in glee, "What'd you season these with?!" Senku grinned and begin taking normal-sized bites into his food as well.

"Just regular old salt that [nickname] and I extracted from the sea water. With just salt added, humans can eat just about anything. Salt is also indispensable when preserving food, and probably was the primitive man's greatest discovery." He explained. Taiju, upon finishing his mushroom, thanked the male whole-heartedly. "For all the things things I'd never be able to figure out! Both of you. I'll repay you in kind with determination and strength!"

He then finished his food and stood up, puffing his chest out in determination. Without even a warning, he took a basket and scurried off, shouting, "All right!! Time to go gather on the back side!"

Senku had opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, but he had already been too far from their sight. He shook his head and turned to his side, where they sat with an amused smile and a still completely unfinished mushroom. "I don't get how you can keep up with him. He has too much stamina, he has got to be cheating with something." He grumbled, and gathered the sticks his friend had left into his hands. "Should you really be asking me that, Sen-chan? You have known them longer than I have, if anything, I'm surprised you've survived this long.." [name] chuckled and continued eating.

"Speaking of which, the back side is near towards the cave where you came from, right, Sen-chan?" The scientist hummed in confirmation. "Yeah, why?" He glanced over his shoulder, seeing them stand up and brush away any dirt that could have gotten on their skirt. "Maybe we should follow Tai-chan, he might assume there's someone else out there aside from us if he sees the pot.." Not expecting it, Senku let out an amused scoff. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did, he is a big oaf after all. Sure, let's go. His mind can go to absurd places and it'd be easier to explain when we're there."

[ Author's Note ] // So far, these are all the chapters I've pulled from quotev. As of this very moment, I'm working on two separate chapters: a 100-hearts special, and the next regular chapter. For those of you who found this in Tumblr, I made a poll before on what the readers would like for the special. As it turns out, 'Crossover Traveling' won. No one really expressed what they wanted aside from my friends, who I asked personally. I ended up choosing Kimetsu no Yaiba as your destination. That's all for this note, thank you so much for reading, and for your time!

[voiceless-terror]

Smile and Nod (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Six: “Stop, please”

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James, Tim Stoker, Elias Bouchard, Original Character

CW: Harassment, Unwanted Advances

Summary: 

“He said to let go of him.” The voice startles them both and Jon turns to see Martin, a placid smile on his face. He is tall, so tall- was Martin always this tall?

Jon runs into trouble at the Institute’s annual donor party and has an unlikely rescuer. 

The Institute hosted a party for its most illustrious donors every spring. Jon had never been expected to go to it until his promotion to Head Archivist and even then he tried to get it out of it, to no avail.

“I’m afraid it’s part of your duties now as Head Archivist,” Elias had said. “We need to have a face for every department and I’m sure quite a few of our donors are anxious to meet Gertrude’s replacement. You understand, of course.” Jon nodded. “I trust you’ll be on your best behavior.” He hadn’t forgotten his promise to ‘be more lovely’ after the incident with Naomi Herne. 

“Yes, yes,” Jon sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to the event- sticking close to Elias’s side didn’t seem very appealing, but being left to the wolves was even worse. Elias seemed to notice his hesitation and paused, waiting for Jon to continue. Perhaps he didn’t have to go alone. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?

“W-Would it,” he began, cursing his stutter. “That is, I would like to- if you don’t mind, I think it would be valuable to have my assistants attend, as well?” He hated the uptick in his voice that made it sound more like a question. “I-I just think it would be a good experience for them to ah, meet the donors as well. Since they do a lot of the research.” Another reminder that he had no idea what he was doing; Elias hadn’t said anything about his methods in the Archives, so he only hoped that indicated a tacit agreement about the way things should be run. 

Jon watched several emotions flit across the man’s face, irritation and disappointment giving way to resignation. He tried to ignore the first two and focus on the last. “Alright,” Elias agreed with a sigh. “Please stress the formality of this event, particularly to Mr. Blackwood. You’ll be representing the Institute, and as such you will be expected to interact with our donors. See that you don’t use your assistants as a social crutch.” Damn. There goes his plan. At least I’ll have some support. 

So here he was, standing in the hallway with his assistants in an ill-fitting suit he last wore to the funeral of a distant cousin. It didn’t fit then, either. He hoped he didn’t look too much like a child in his father’s clothes, but the snickers from Tim and Sasha dashed any hope of that. They looked wonderful, of course, as they always did. Martin was in the same boat as Jon, fidgeting in a blazer and non-matching pants.

“Well boss, looks like it’s time to schmooze!” Tim clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him through the door. Elias liked to have his parties in the main library- it was the most beautiful part of the Institute, aside from the entrance hall. The tables and desks that normally populated the center of the room had been cleared away to reveal a rather spacious area for guests to mingle and talk over the sound of a tasteful string quartet. The whole event was incredibly elegant and Jon felt like he very much did not belong.

“Ah, there he is!” He heard Elias call from the right-hand corner of the room, where he was surrounded by several well-to-do donors dressed to the nines. He gestured him over with a magnanimous hand and Jon instantly flushed. Tim squeezed his shoulder and pushed him in their general direction. “This is our new Head Archivist, Jonathan Sims. He’s been doing fine work thus far.”

After a moment Tim’s hand is replaced by Elias’s, firm and weighty on his shoulder. He’s exchanging pleasantries with people whose names he forgets almost instantly- their hands are cold and their voices distant, they talk over him as if he were a child they judged and found wanting. Elias’s hand did not move and he was anchored in place, even as they made no move to include him in their conversation.

He saw Martin give him a look of pity from the corner that he was currently occupying with Sasha and Tim. They had their hands full of hors d'oeuvres and drinks and Jon wished desperately for a glass of water, anything to keep his hands occupied. He turned to realize the  conversation had stopped and his companions were staring at him expectantly. “I’m sorry?” he hazarded, wondering if he’d been addressed.

“Our son George,” the woman over-enunciated, her tone condescending. Jon remembered vaguely that she had some connection to the Fairchilds, though her name wasn’t familiar. “-is over by the bar. I think you’ll find his company a bit more interesting, hm?” The group tittered and Jon felt shame rise in his throat as his boss’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

“Yes Jon, why don’t you introduce yourself?” Elias said genially enough, though Jon can tell he had disappointed him once again. Jon nodded, excusing himself to go to the corner to get a much-needed drink and to embarrass himself further. There was a man roughly his age fiddling around on his phone with a bored expression. He was tall and handsome but in the soft way of the rich, cruel and cherubic in equal measure. It unnerved Jon and he summoned up a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“G-George?” he asked, willing his voice to steady. The man looked up, expression unchanged as his eyes bored into Jon’s. “I’m Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist-”

“Parents send you over?” he smirked and Jon felt the tension in his shoulders ease just a bit. “Sorry you had to deal with them. This your first time at one of these? Median age here is usually around seventy five, give or take.” He laughed and Jon smiled, the man’s candor a bit charming even to him. 

“Y-Yes, I’m not really sure I should be here,” he admitted as George slid a drink into his hand. He took a grateful sip and closed his eyes at it’s smooth burn- this was expensive liquor and Jon was going to savor every last bit.

“That makes two of us,” the man nudged him with his elbow and Jon started to think the night might not be as bad as he thought. He glanced quickly over to the other side of the room- Tim winked and gave him a thumbs-up (which he ignored) and Martin’s face was carefully blank. Jon did not know what to make of that.

George, it seemed, was not all that bad. He listened patiently when Jon went off on a rant about book-binding, nodding and smiling at all the right parts. In return, Jon let him talk about finance for longer than was polite (and God was it boring). They’ve now had two drinks and Jon is feeling much, much looser. The smiles are genuine and unforced. He watches Elias nod in approval out of the corner of his eye and feels his chest warm with pride. Not a complete disappointment, am I?

But George is getting closer. It was fine when they were awkwardly perched on opposite ends of the bar and needed to hear one another, but this was getting too cozy for Jon’s tastes. He tries to take a casual step backwards but stumbles. George’s hand goes to his elbow to help steady him and stays there. 

“I-I think I need to-” he starts to mumble an excuse but the man is not having it.

“What do you say we get out of here?” He whispers, coming in closer. Jon’s nerves reach a fever-pitch but he does not want to show it, doesn’t want to make a scene so he keeps the smile pasted on his face. “My apartment’s not that far-”

“O-Oh, I’m f-fine, thanks,” he says, trying to dislodge the man’s arm but it is no use- he is much stronger than he looks and has at least half a foot on him. “I actually have plans-”

“With who?” George asks pityingly as Jon tries desperately to meet anyone’s eyes, even Elias’s. He tries to convey his plea without making it obvious to any other bystanders but his boss’s eyes slide right over him. He knows he saw, he knows-

“That’s why they sent you over, right?” George continues, his mouth dangerously close to Jon’s neck as he leans into whisper in his ear. “Pretty thing like you, get me to open the cheque book-”

“Good Lord no, let me go-” at this Jon scoffs, horrified as he tries to yank his arm away.

“Don’t make a scene,” the man says in a low and calming voice, though the leer on his face is clear to see. Jon feels terribly small. “You don’t want to disappoint the boss, do you?”

“Please,” he begs, all out of words. “Stop, please-”

“He said to let go of him.” The voice startles them both and Jon turns to see Martin, a placid smile on his face. He is tall, so tall- was Martin always this tall? 

“I’m sorry?” George replies with a sneer, his voice raising in both pitch and volume and Jon is sure if people weren’t looking before, they’re looking now. “I’ll thank you to stay out of this, we were just leaving-”

“No,” Martin replies in that preternaturally calm voice, still smiling. “You weren’t. Now let him go, and we can forget this all happened, hm?” He puts a hand on the arm that’s holding Jon and there’s real strength behind it. George tries to wrench his arm away but Martin’s got it in a solid grip and he barely manages a wiggle.

“Let go of me now, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Martin sounds bored. It is mystifying and Jon can do nothing but gape at the man. “You don’t want a scene, do you? Not in front of the family. Not again. So smile, and walk away.” There is a moment where Jon thinks they will come to blows but it passes. George manages to turn his scowl into a neutral expression, saving some dignity though he throws one last glare Jon’s way. “Not even worth it,” he mutters as he walks away. Jon leans against the bar, releasing a breath he did not realize he’d been holding.

“A-Are you alright, Jon?” Martin has a hand on his elbow but it’s okay now because it’s Martin and it feels right. His face has that same look he gets when he asks Jon whether he wants a cup of tea, or how he’s feeling or if he’s eaten that day. Worried, gentle.

“W-What was that?” is all Jon manages to get out, his voice in an embarrassingly high-pitch. Tim and Sasha are now making their way over with schooled expressions, though Jon can see the worry in their eyes. “Did you know that man? I-I mean, what the hell?” Jon realizes he’s sputtering and tries to get a handle on his swirling emotions. “N-Not that I’m not grateful, but good lord. ‘Not again?’”

Martin laughs, suddenly bashful. “I just guessed with that one, honestly. He looks like the type that’s thrown a fit or two, doesn’t he?” Tim and Sasha reach them and Martin is himself again, hunched over like he’s taking up too much space. This is the Martin that tiptoes around the archives, that’s always smiling and chattering about his day. Jon has never contemplated the man in much detail, but he is finding it hard to reconcile this new side of him. It’s not necessarily unwelcome. 

“Alright there, boss?” Tim inquires, good-natured but anxious. “Was going to come over, pretend to be your boyfriend and all but Martin said that would be ‘demeaning’ or whatever.” Tim rolls his eyes at this.

“I don’t know, Martin seemed to diffuse the situation pretty well,” Sasha eyes him curiously. “What did you say?”

“N-Nothing, really-”

“He asked him to leave,” Jon says, finding his voice and unable to take his eyes off Martin. “And he left.”

“Damn, okay,” Tim gives an appreciative whistle before knocking back the rest of his drink. “Working that Mart-o magic, I guess. This party blows, let’s hit the bars. Night’s still young!”

Sasha cheers and Martin looks at him questioningly- he surprises himself by nodding in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go.” He studiously ignores Elias breaking off from his group of sycophants and heading their way. He watches as Martin straightens himself minutely, blocking Jon with his body as Tim ushers them out the door before they can get stopped by the man. Jon knows he will get a tongue-lashing out of this but he doesn’t care right now. He feels small in Martin’s shadow but it is a safe small, like a blanket wrapped around him on a chilly night.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Martin asks as Tim and Sasha chatter ahead of them, arguing over their destination. “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to. I can take you home.”

I can take you home.

“I’m fine,” he says though he knows the situation hasn’t quite set in yet. “I’d rather not be alone, I-I think.” Martin nods and gives him a smile. It is almost charming, and Jon returns it. He doesn’t really want another drink but he needs a distraction, any distraction.

The night is cold and Martin is close, big and safe and warm. And if Jon leans into his side when they finally agree on a bar, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856373

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I really want to read the post where you say "why Ravenclaw is the House that suits MC the most in the main story" but I dont find it

I haven’t ever made a full length post about it, come to think of it. I’ve talked about it in previous Ask responses but admittedly I have quite a few of those. So I suppose now is as good a time as any! 

Ultimately, HPHM’s story is designed so that any House can work for Jacob’s Sibling. Obviously, no one House is “canon” over the others. But in my personal opinion, certain Houses do make more sense for different reasons. Everything can change based on how you characterize MC, but setting aside the dialogue choices, they tend to have a general personality that fills in for most of the scenes. It’s average, a kind of “everyman” type. And certain choices can arguably be considered “canon” when they’re the ones that are free, placed next to choices that are locked behind attributes or friendship checks. That is the general vision of MC that I’ll be analyzing. 

But first, the characters. 

One of the primary reasons that MC fits Ravenclaw the best in the Main Story is because there are several characters who are aligned to MC in their Sorting. They always follow MC to whatever House they go to. Thus it becomes a question of which house suits them the most. Rowan Khanna, I think, speaks for them-self. I could see them in any House but they are a Ravenclaw through and through. I bet the only reason they ever get Sorted anywhere else is because they ask the Hat to let them follow MC. They are absolutely brilliant, with a love of reading and learning new things. They’re eccentric as well, deeply creative and good at coming up with plans. They dream of being a Professor, and they turn to books above all else. Next we have Jacob. Another character who could go anywhere based on interpretation, but he strikes me as a Ravenclaw too. Several of the options you can give when expressing speculation about him suggest that the reason he probably investigated the Vaults in the first place was his thirst for knowledge, his desire to know their secrets. To be specific, his stubborn and obsessive need to know. I feel like Jacob couldn’t let this go until he had learned all of the hidden magic and secrets of the Vaults, until he realized far too late that he was in over his head, mixed up with R and everything. 

Then there is Flitwick. A canon Ravenclaw of course, and one of the four Heads of House. It could be coincidental, but even if it is, Flitwick is easily the most developed of the Heads of House within this game. McGonagall is totally in character, but she’s part of the sideline outside of a small section of Year 2. Sprout contributes absolutely nothing, and Snape is likewise in character, but lacking anything to do until Rakepick shows up. Flitwick prepares MC for the first duel with Merula and gives them counsel. I suppose it’s not that much more than McGonagall teaching them the revealing spell in Year 2, but this felt so much more personal. You have the chance to make a promise to Flitwick, and either keep it or break it. In Year 4, he is I think the only teacher to speak up in Rakepick’s defense, and this leads into even further development of his character. By Year 5, he starts to warn MC not to investigate the Portrait Curse, but stops mid-sentence as he realizes that nothing he can say will stop them. I bring all of this up because Flitwick being such a fleshed out character in this game kind of goes hand in hand pretty well with the idea that he is MC’s Head of House. He is the only Head who shows the slightest bit of remorse when banning MC from Hogsmeade. With him, you really get the sense that he’s being overruled and doesn’t agree with it. That he’s in MC’s corner. And god I love him.  I won’t stray too far into the Quidditch characters, but I will say that Murphy and Orion are two other characters that stick with MC, who I could very much see as Ravenclaws, both in different ways. But still, it’s Jacob and Rowan who are most important in affecting the story.

Which brings me to the story itself. 

Hogwarts Mystery is different from the story of Harry Potter. This is the tale of Jacob and his Sibling. In HP, we know from the beginning who the villain is, that he’s an evil monster. We know what he wants, and that he failed. It gets fleshed out more later but everything you need to know is in that first book. We see him, he clashes with Harry, and loses. The books are a hero’s journey. A story of good versus evil. They do have mystery aspects, each of the books has a mystery told within it’s pages. But the overarching story is not about what’s hidden in the trapdoor, or who opened the chamber of secrets. It’s about Harry and Voldemort’s rivalry, their hero/villain dynamic. Everyone knew going into DH that Harry would defeat him in the end because that’s how these things go. OOTP basically confirmed it but most fans had known for years. 

HPHM is different. 

There are heroic moments, and Merula in particular compares MC to being a “hero.” But nothing they do is heroic in the same way as Harry. They both take active roles in the story but in different ways. Harry is still reactionary. He takes it upon himself to solve the problems, but he still waits until the problems show up. MC plans to open the Vaults even before the Curses show themselves. They arrive at Hogwarts with a goal in mind, finding Jacob. And with Hogwarts Mystery, the overarching story is not a hero’s journey. Because MC is so much more ambiguous than Harry. It might seem redundant to say that this story is a Mystery, but it is. An ongoing investigation, the unraveling of a conspiracy. Learning the truth about just what went down during Jacob’s years at Hogwarts. By HBP, Voldemort was such a familiar presence that we were learning the ins and outs of his childhood, right down to how his parents met. By Year 6, we still have no idea what R really is, or what they want. We don’t even know what it stands for. The black and white of the books, the heroes and the villains...that’s all replaced with shades of gray. Jacob is constantly in the gray. So is Rakepick, at least at first. Don’t get me started on Merula. Ben is another character who is definitely good, but has gone through such a roller coaster about who he is and whether he can be trusted. 

Then there’s the ambiguity of MC them-self. The hints that they don’t share everything with people, are prone to tricking others, and for all we know, might wind up on the Dark Side someday. I’ll admit, this can also lend itself well to MC being a Slytherin, and indeed there are dialogue choices that are locked behind being one. But I still feel as though MC playing detective throughout this entire game, that whole premise lends itself pretty damn well toward a Ravenclaw MC. They’re trying to defeat the bad guys, but their main method of preparing for that fight is not train up an army of students, it is to investigate the Vaults, and investigate R. Even going as far as to work with Wizarding police. Granted, I know Harry poked around a lot too. And MC does form the Circle of Khanna, just like how Harry formed Dumbledore’s Army. Both of them do exhibit both behaviors, but MC specializes in covert investigation more than preparation for combat. Again, at least they do so in the main story. The Circle of Khanna was not meant to be like Dumbledore’s Army, at least not in concept. MC first conceived it as the idea of standing toe to toe with the Cabal by having a secret organization of their own. I know that didn’t really land perfectly in actual practice but that was the whole idea. And if there’s one thing MC has a constant stream of, it’s ideas. Not always the right ones, not always fast enough, but they do have them, and these ideas steer the plot. In the main story and otherwise. 

It’s probably a bit cheap to get meta, but so be it. 

I can’t help but notice how, if we take every other contribution to the Potterverse into account...well then, we’ve got a Gryffindor Protagonist in the form of Harry. We’ve got a Slytherin Protagonist in the form of Albus Severus. And a Hufflepuff over in Fantastic Beasts with Newt Scamander. If MC is a Ravenclaw, then that completes the quartet. But there’s another Quartet out there as well - that of the Original Four. Rowan, Ben, Penny, and Merula. The Year 1 characters and the OG leads of the Hogwarts Mystery story. Notice anything about them? We have a Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin...but no Ravenclaw. None that is, unless MC, and therefore Rowan by extension, is a Ravenclaw. MC being Sorted into the House of Eagles completes both of these groups. I dunno, I just find it curious that unless the Player goes to Ravenclaw, the first student character we meet in that House shows up in Year 3. Because Jam City wrote in some amazing characters for Ravenclaw. My love of Tulip Karasu is well documented, but I also think Talbott is pretty damn fascinating. Andre and Badeea rock too! Ravenclaw is also a relatively neutral House. I’ve said before that HPHM ignores the House rivalries, and that’s easiest to incorporate in the House of Eagles, which mostly keeps to itself. It would not be socially strange for a Ravenclaw to have so many friends from different Houses. I’m not saying a Slytherin MC couldn’t befriend Ben, for example, but he’s a Muggle-born Gryffindor and that would be a big deal to everyone else. Again, not saying it couldn’t happen, just that it would turn heads and people within Slytherin might go as far as to treat MC like a traitor. I like this premise, but...would Felix seriously help MC prepare to fight Merula, a fellow Slytherin, on behalf of someone like Ben? There are other trivial problems, like the question of two male Prefects if MC is Gryffindor, etc. 

But that’s just a few thoughts. Again, there’s clearly no “canon” House, and neither of my MCs are even in Ravenclaw. But I think it’s fun to explore the idea as Ravenclaw is a House that, I think, is sorely needing development.

[newswcanonprompts]

Jedi as musicians/dancers AU!

The idea of obi wan + violin started this

Obi wan in a soft cashmere sweater playing violin in a sunny room with his eyes closed in concentration and his body swaying to the melody… imagine

This concept lives rent free in our heads

Obi wan loves tchaikovsky’s violin concerto, it’s canon

The jedi order is a bunch of classical music fans

They’re a symphony orchestra, the sith are a competing concert band, and the clone wars is just them competing for international acclaim

Anakin falling is him being swayed from the bass to becoming a trumpet player 

Anakin is a sought after child prodigy, he’s like yo yo ma

Anakin also ends up being like lindsey stirling

Some of the mean jedi masters are that parent who makes him do every. Single. After school activity. 

Pianist anakin because of those long fingers

He also bangs his head on the piano and refuses to practice a lot

Because he’s anakin and he’s Like That 

The idea of obi wan teaching anakin piano for the first time,,,,, i love

Anakin writes a whole suite about water

His perception of it is like… salvation

May i present to you the idea of the idea of cellist mace windu 

The force helps with learning instruments, like with languages but this time it’s music 

Jedi mandatory music/dance classes because hello it’s a good way to manage emotions and calm down 

This AU is also a way for masters to find a padawan without doing the trials

“I heard you on the violin, and i play violin, do you wanna be my padawan” sort of thing 

“That was a wonderful performance, young one. I must say you’re quite the prodigy. Would you like to explore the intricacies of music as my padawan?” 

Most jedi are musicians, but some are dancers because:

A: dance is a really good way to express yourself and let go for a bit 

B: the jedi in question sucked at instruments so they’re going for the other musical option

C: they’re chaotic and wanted to do big leaps in the air all the time (quinlan vos) 

Jedi are amazing dancers- i mean, have you seen them fight? Their lightsaber forms are like dances

Jedi have recitals/balls/dances/galas/etc all the time

It’s the jedi orchestra playing and the dancers performing 

All their senator friends and younglings and everyone else in the temple who decided not to pursue a musical study are watching 

Anakin is a dancer who loves it but is also really self conscious about it

He’ll only dance if he has his friends there 

Tatooine dances are a lot harsher than jedi ones, they’re warrior dances, dances of survivors

Obi wan shows anakin the jedi fight dance, and anakin is very good at it since it’s sort of similar to the tatooine ones he’s used to  

Anakin’s favorite style is contemporary

First of all, his fighting style is very graceful and fluid so it works 

He loves it because it’s so open, and you can do pretty much whatever in that style and call it contemporary 

It’s also one of the best styles to express emotion through 

It’s just open, and anakin can do whatever and he doesn’t have to worry about doing the wrong style (even though every dance teacher says “there are no wrong answers in improv” yeah sureee there isn’t- can you tell i’m a dancer? anyways) and he doesn’t feel judged or anything like that

Again, it’s a really good style to show emotion through, so anakin also likes it because of that, it helps him let go 

Obi wan is primarily a lyrical dancer

Similar to contemporary but still different 

But they’re close enough that obi wan teaches anakin a lot of moves and technique 

Anakin becomes an amazing dancer and obi wan is so damn proud 

Point is, anakin is a brilliant contemporary dancer

The entirety of the disaster lineage are mostly dancers except dooku

He was a rad musician, he played music or composed dances for yoda, qui gon, or yoda

But then he turned to the dark side and became a clarinet player

Sexy Squidward Dooku alert 

Dooku gives off Squidward vibes, it fits 

Anyways.... going to pretend i didn’t actually type “sexy squidward dooku” so let’s move on

The assignments for the jedi music classes involve a lot of interacting with the force and choice when playing

“What does the Force sound like? Play it” 

“I want you to improv to how the force feels today” 

To some, the force is a heavy double bass accompanied by raging trumpets and a sad accompaniment from the string quartet

Anakin is one of these people 

But maybe, he does have a classical music lean 

To others, it’s Debussy (more soft and calming, in a way) 

The jedi’s affinity for music/dance is probably pretty public

BUT IMAGINE THE CLONES REACTION TO THEIR MUSIC 

Jedi teaching the clones music/dance 

Anakin plays his piano water suite for the clones

Rex hears it and is like “what was that?” 

Rex, coming from kamino, where it’s always storming, his perception of water is much different from anakin’s 

He’s like oh this is music wow

The clones get music lessons now 

Whoever organizes the curriculum (including shaak ti, who’s organizing it for  all her cadet bbys on kamino) makes it a mandatory class for “developmental purposes” 

Clone acapella groups 

JEDI CHOIR!

Nobody ever misses their cue, since they all have precognition and are force sensitive and have basic telepathy 

Some Jedi infuse the Force into their singing 

Jedi have enchanting voices

Jedi are great fighters, they can also enhance their lungs and vocal cords

Now, star wars planets have their own definitions of music and how it’s sung/played 

If jedi can enhance their vocal cords then they can like… perform the best version Local Planet Music 

Anakin canonically has a very nice voice

He sings while working on mechanics and it helps him go faster 

Obi wan also has Ewan’s nice singing voice

BUT he’s uncomfortable singing because he feels everyone staring at him and omg i’m not THAT good

so Anakin has to wheedle him into singing and then of COURSE people stop and stare at Obi wan because he sounds lovely 

Also Rex gives off clarinet vibes btw, go with it

torrent company would totally start a band

[popatochisssp]

Heya Poppy! I’m loving the new gem headcanons and was wondering if you have a diamond au too? Or any other stuff about the new gems? I love this au so much

Ohoho, of course I do! I do have the new gems’ Backstories, but since you asked about the Diamond AU specifically... UwU

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

Cubic Zirconia (Undergloom Sans) emerges alone, in an abandoned Kindergarten galaxies upon galaxies away from Homeworld’s (known) reaches. He doesn’t stay alone for very long, and not too much later, Moissanite (Undergloom Papyrus) emerges too--another gem.

...Not that they...know too much beyond the fact that they’re both gems. They certainly have no idea that they’re both products of diamond replication experiments at this outpost, commissioned by the (recently ceased) Void Diamond and forgotten when The War began and other priorities became more important.

But! They have each other, so even if their origin is shrouded in mystery and there’s nobody else here on this dusty, deserted rock of a planet, they both decide things could be worse.

They go about their lives for awhile, poking around in things, bonding with each other, making guesses about their species and civilization from their bare-bones programming and the artifacts of the Kindergarten.

It passes the time.

And then, one day, the seismic activity starts.

The two of them have no idea what’s happening or what to do about it; if there’s anything to do about it, and it’s a stressful few cycles before they get any solid answers.

Raw Diamond (Horrorfell Sans), clawing himself up through the ground from the deepest, darkest caverns of the planet, is about as ‘solid’ as an answer gets.

Cubic and Moissanite shouldn’t know the newcomer at all, yet they find themselves automatically saluting, calling him ‘My Diamond,’ and Raw...

Raw is just as confused as they are.

He doesn’t know what’s going on either, where they are, what he is, who he is… he simply is.

He couldn’t know that he’s a forgotten project of Void Diamond’s, too, a new diamond meant to join the ranks with him and Brown and Gray as their empire expanded and needed more leadership. He was simply left in the ground to incubate without being refined or even cut.

(He's monstrous, huge even for a Diamond, and oddly formed with a crooked jaw that won’t open and a hole in his skull…but Cubic and Moissanite hardly know any better than he does what he’s supposed to look like, so no one makes any mention of it.)

Freshly emerged and very lost, it goes without saying that Raw wants answers. The Imitation brothers have a few, but nowhere near as many as he’s after, and he stubbornly demands to be shown around the Kindergarten and the outpost, to see it for himself.

And it all lights up for him in a way it never did for the two that came first, doors and sensors and screens coming to life, responding to the signature of a true diamond. There’s brand new access to everything, reports, records, files and procedures… they learn a lot about what they are, what they’re supposed to be and what they’re not.

They also learn how true diamonds are made, in full and not just halfway.

Raw is certain this is the answer. Cubic and Moissanite are the first of their kind, they barely have any programming, but a diamond…a diamond done right and not left unfinished like he was, surely they would know more and be able to make sense of…whatever it is they’re not getting.

The brothers aren’t totally convinced... but admittedly, they don’t have any better ideas and well…rough he may be, but Raw is a diamond…

Champagne Diamond (Horrorfell Papyrus) unfolds himself gracefully from a craggy cliffside on the abandoned planet, massive in size but otherwise perfect—and he does have some answers.

Champagne knows he is a Diamond and he knows of gemkind. He knows of their society and of their directive to expand their empire.

…What he doesn’t know is the answer to Cubic’s well-meaning query of ‘...what empire?’

Champagne has no clue where the hell all the other gems are, where this little rock is in relation to the Empire, if the Empire even still exists if this place has been abandoned as long as all the charts and data logs say it has been.

He wants answers as much as Raw does, possibly even moreso…but to even start looking for them, they have to get the hell off this planet.

As it turns out, what he lacks in inherent knowledge of their status and origin and social structures, Raw has a real knack for gem-tech, understanding the principles and functions of even the old and mostly broken down devices they have access to, enough to design a passable space-faring craft that they all pitch in to build.

The first world the quartet comes across is empty now, but was once uniquely occupied by both gems and by organics. There’s a handful of gem structures, Kindergartens, bases, et cetera--long abandoned and in disarray of course, but hiding lots of new data and potential clues to mine about what happened to gemkind, and more importantly, where the fuck Homeworld is...

(Like the lost city of Punt, it seems that nobody ever thought to store something as obvious as Homeworld’s coordinates anywhere in the days before warp pads--why bother? Everyone knew where it was.)

There’s a lot to repair and sift through, a whole planet’s worth of it, and there’s only four of them, so it’s probably going to take awhile…

So when Raw finds some old notes that this planet would be a good candidate to incubate a diamond if not for all the useful organic life on it, he nudges Champagne and jokes that all the organic life is gone now, maybe they should…?

To Raw’s surprise, however, Champagne is intrigued.

It could be something worth thinking about, actually… Another pair of hands, another set of eye-sockets… a diamond would be a costly investment, both time and resource-wise, but certainly more bang for the buck than a mess of soldiers or technicians that they really don’t need…

Plus, it’s something to do while they scour the whole damn globe for everything of use on it.

So... might as well try it.

A nice chunk of forest is summarily leveled by Cloudy Diamond (Horrorswapfell Sans) when he decides he’s good and ready to emerge—and while he’s certainly an extra pair of hands for the group, the eye-sockets…didn’t really work out the way they’d thought.

Cloudy, it turns out, is blind as a bat, a defective diamond—but still a diamond, able to interface with and access everything the other two diamonds can, if guided to it.

He sticks with Cubic and Moissanite, mostly, a quid pro quo sort of arrangement that works for everyone, at least until everything of use and worth is mined out of the artifacts of the planet, and it’s time to move on to the next lead: what seems to have been a military base on an almost entirely aquatic world.

Cloudy isn’t interested in visiting a water-world, not for a long-term stay like they’re talking about. He prefers solid ground beneath his feet at least most of the time...and he actually has very little investment in their Quest for Homeworld, so he decides that he’ll stay here.

The others question if he’s sure, and even offer to leave at least Moissanite with him to help him around, but he refuses. Aside from not feeling altogether right about splitting Moissanite and Cubic, Cloudy has his pride and he’ll manage just fine. He is a diamond, after all!

And so off the others go to the military installation.

Raw has a great time digging around in all the decaying ships and weaponry, Cubic and Moissanite explore the things left behind by the gems that were once upon a time stationed there, and Champagne researches.

Cloudy’s defect...weighs on him, though...

(Possibly because they kind of…created the poor guy, imperfect, and then left him there, which sucks… but Champagne is a diamond and doesn’t have half the emotional intelligence to realize the injustice of that is what’s bugging him.)

He somehow decides that it’s the defect itself that’s bothering him, that he failed to create a 100% functional diamond. But he didn’t fail, he could do it, if he tried again…which he’s not going to do, just to prove a point, to himself even and not anybody else!

………

That’s exactly what he does.

Pink Diamond (Horrorswap Sans) rises from the sea one day, kicking up a tsunami in his wake, much to the surprise of the others who were definitely not kept in the loop on this matter.

Champagne, for his part, is unapologetic and unashamed: Pink is a total success, strong and complete and perfectly formed (aside from, perhaps, the occasional, very minor glitching of his physical body... but that can surely be put down to all that water he was incubated beneath, smoothing his intended rose-cut over time into something more like a cabochon. That’s nothing to do with him...)

Pink, for his part, is happy to help and join the search for answers.

He dives right into it all without complaint…until…

Well...

Seeing Cubic and Moissanite, and Raw and Champagne…they get along so well, and his recent arrival hasn’t opened up any space for him in their dynamics.

He’s very pointedly the odd man out, and it’s enough to make a diamond quite lonely,  quite aware that he’s the only gem here without a brother to call his own.

………

Taking a page from Champagne’s book, telling absolutely no one, Pink sets out to squeeze one more diamond out of this big ball of water, even though the planet’s resources are low after his emergence.

It’s not long before Olive Diamond (Horrorswap Papyrus) is slogging out of a dark, wet swamp, assisted by his brother—which is appreciated, because he seems to have a hard time keeping his legs to retain the ‘hard’ part of ‘hard light projection.’ Sometimes they’re solid light and sometimes they’re only light and maybe that’s what happens when you try to make a gem from a planet that’s running on empty...

Pink is delighted by his new sibling all the same!

Even so, a rule is made amongst the gems after that and agreed to by all: nobody makes anymore gems without telling somebody, no more surprises!

………

In retrospect, they probably should’ve decided on that rule a lot sooner, maybe a planet ago.

By the time they all return to the ghost world with a stockpile of newer tech and ships, they find Cloudy in the middle of a fully-operational and tidied up base, with everything rigged to accept voice commands and read out text, and a brand new shadow hovering around him.

Pepper Diamond (Horrorswapfell Papyrus) emerged from the ruins of one of the abandoned cities, Cloudy explains, and has been very helpful in the others’ absence, wonderful company—he told them he’d manage fine. > 3c

Well.

After all of that, the military base had been their last, best clue to finding Homeworld, or at least the remains of it, if gemkind were truly gone…

After a bit of discussion among the group, they decide to take communicators and ships and anything else they wanted/needed and just…go their separate ways, to do their own things.

Cubic and Moissanite set up shop on the first world they can find with sentient organics that will accept them, wanting to be around other people and to live peacefully.

Raw and Champagne choose to stick to their mission, going on the wild goose chase that is the search for other gems somewhere in the universe, even without any solid leads—the gem empire was expansive, but not As Infinite As the Universe-expansive, so they haven’t had any luck yet.

Pink and Olive are curious about other gems, too, but make it their mission to hunt down all the deserted bases, Kindergartens, and outposts in their neck of the universe and fix them up, restoring everything to its former glory as best they can—whether those places are promising in terms of leads/clues or not. It’s their heritage and they want to explore it and restore it, if they’re able.

Cloudy and Pepper intend to stay put on their birth world…but when Cloudy’s done everything he can on their planet, he gets a little bored sifting through the ruins of this dead world and wants to go find somewhere with living organics to stay instead. Pepper (reluctantly) agrees and they stumble upon a fledgling, primitive society that seems to think of these giant, shining and glowing immortals as some sort of deities… Oops, it seems as if they’ve started a colony of sorts on accident!

They’ll all keep on keeping on, and if anything interesting happens or someone needs a hand, they can reach the others to get back in touch.

…

Unbeknownst to the Outer Galaxy diamonds or the Diamond Authority back on Homeworld, a strange pair of Chameleon Diamonds—one Reverse (Gastertale Sans) and one Classic (Gastertale Papyrus)—are spat out of a singularity, somewhere in a galaxy in between.

They’ve got a lot of knowledge between the two of them, in the skulls behind their briolette-cut gems, but not a single solid memory, and their only clue is a whole lot of wreckage of some strange machine scattered around them in space.

They don’t know what they are, where they came from, how they’re alive, or what all this junk is…but once they make their way to a planet with gravity and stuff they can fashion tools and parts out of, they do figure out that they can cobble together a ship out of all this...

What better use of a couple of brothers’ time than a bit of adventuring, leisurely exploring the universe and any interesting lifeforms or civilizations they find along the way, with little more than respect of the Prime Directive to argue about? ;3

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to  Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records.  Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records.  Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.  

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation. 

 James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.” 

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

 Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits) 

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.     

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it?  Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take: 

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

  Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No. 

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment? 

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found. 

 Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed) 

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No 

Derek Taylor’s take: 

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.  

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”   

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes  

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:  

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest. 

 M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

 Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in. 

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while. 

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

 Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.” 

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience? 

 The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete) 

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No. 

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

 Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No. 

Jason Bivins’ take: 

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

 Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell 

Did we review it? Not yet! 

Mason Jones’ take: 

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

 Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty 

Did we review it? No. 

Ian Mathers’ take: 

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.