#he's really good at music...the other arts...he's half decent

[blackmesa-researcher]

He sings along with the music on the CD he had in that had musical soundtracks on it as he cleans his apartment, just really quite enjoying himself on his day off. He's just getting things he needs to do done and out of the way finally.

He looks outside though and opens his window to let in some fresh air. It was partly cloudy out and not very cold. Ash figured it would be the one of the last such days.

Then he continued to clean, singing rather passionately again, forgetting that his windows were open and people outside could hear him...Ash really did have a pleasant singing voice, it was like his father's...in more ways than one.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

[bongolia]

Eltingville headcanons (School)

Jerry

Loser

He gets decent grades, doesn't care enough about getting A's to be quite honest

He has like a 3.3 GPA (83-89% average)

Probably really good at his art class

Maybe also his sciences classes much to his parents' liking

I'd like to say he's the least stinky of the group when in school.

He showers thrice a week and brushes his teeth every other day

The only reason he wears deoderant is because he sweats a lot and he really hates the feeling of wet armpit

Gets physically bullied the most and much more frequentley because unlike Bill, he'll be quiet about the whole ordeal

Can't fit in lockers so they just beat him and drag him around, especially in the locker rooms

Jerry doxxes them online afterwards

They never know that it's him doing it

People probably make shooter jokes about him

A group of girls found out that he was into fantasy roleplaying online and now that's all he's known for

A couple people have taken interest in him (romantically or as friends) but didn't know how to start a conversation with the guy

Jerry wears his zip-up hoodie, his green sweater, or some subtle Legends of Zelda hoodie to school. He probably re-wears his shirts as well

I'd like to think his mom packs his lunch. She's scared that he'll get food poisoning if she doesn't

Normally it's a turkey sandwhich with whatever else

Jerry gives half of his lunch to Josh since he sits with him at lunch

He normally listens to music all day since he's not really talking to people much

Unless he's in math, english, or music

He has those classes with Pete who talks his ear off

At least he doesn't die of boredom while in music class, he can't stand that place

Speaking of music, his parents made him do guitar for years on end which became evident when his music class did their guitar unit

Pete is now begging him to teach him how to play thinking it'll get him girls

No stinky, it will not

His parent's probably get on his ass about grades. They make him do his homeowrk in the dining room every night before going to play his games

Sometimes he forgets and is unable to attend club meeting because he's being forced to do school work

He went to community college after high school I think

For what? Who knows

All I know is that his parents were happy he actually got some post-grad eductation and a job

He's still harassing people online

End post

[that-loser-101]

My headcanons about the preps! (Besides derby) :

Bif Taylor:

1. Bif listens to punk rock/metal music, I'm talking misfits and metallica on full blast headphones anytime he's walking down the sidewalk.

2. Bif had a punk phase back when he was 16-17 (I headcanon him to be 18), but stopped because derby thought his choice of fashion was "odd" and made him look "poor". Now he just dresses like an office worker (dress shirt, basic suit & tie, ect...) .

3. Back when he got bullied, he got stabbed in the arm with a pencil once (he still has the scar of it on his arm. He also has multiple other scars that have healed mostly).

4. Even though bif makes himself seem like a snobby guy, he often offers to do his dad's paperwork for him because he feels guilty about asking his dad for things and wants to repay him in some way.

5. He gives derby silent treatment anytime derby insults him (like when derby called him a "filthy Democrat", he stopped talking to derby for a week straight before derby eventually apologized).

6. He takes anti-depressants everyday in the morning (it's stated by Dr bambillo that bif is or has been on medication).

7. He was a mama's boy, but his mom passed away when he was like, 12.

8. (This is if social media existed in the bully universe) bif would most likely have a private account where he posts things about his life, maybe even hate posts about the greasers.

Parker Ogilvie:

1. Parker is half scottish (since the last name "ogilvie" is of scottish, I've figured that he's scottish).

2. He actually has a half-decent family (unlike most of the preps) and has made an amazing bond with his little step-sister.

3. He's probably an art kid. Not only cuz he likes art, but also because he hopes that maybe if he makes a drawing "good enough" Ms. Philips would fall for him (it's stated in his wiki that he has a crush on Ms. Philips) .

4. He likes to carry around a study sketchbook with himself and often draws the other preps, gnomey, and Chester (Chad's pet pit bull).

5. He reads spiderman comics and often draws different spidersonas' in the sketchbook he has at home (he keeps this sketchbook to himself and doesn't show anyone, it's basically filled with stuff he wouldn't want the others to see).

6. His house is actually in a town next to bull worth town, but because he attends bull worth academy and his house is far away, he usually stays over at the other preps' houses and goes home on the weekends (he doesn't find this exhausting since he goes home via subway, and he really isn't that big of a target because his family isn't rich rich like Derby's).

7. He'd post his drawings from his study sketchbook and post about scottish culture on social media (his account wouldn't be private, so the greasers would just be posting hate comments under his posts).

8. He uses emojicons whenever he comments something, things like: :) , :( , :/ , >:( , ect....

9. He'd be best friends with tad and Justin.

10. He probably wears grunge or street style clothes anytime he's out of school, but had an emo phase back when he was 13 (he sometimes wears emo make-up like messy eyeliner and stuff inside his room anytime he's bored).

Chad Morris:

1. He has a normal family, just that his parents are strict.

2. He either has a buzz cut, a full on afro, or just dreads (I swear I need fan art of him with hair. He'd probably have the sickest hair ever).

3. He has his left ear pierced (like in his beta design).

4. He's part scottish (just like with the last name "Ogilvie", "Morris" is a name of scottish origin).

5. Often wears old money or minimalist clothes.

6. He is freakishly obsessed with his pet dog Chester (not in a creepy way, just like how someone gets cuteness aggression anytime they look at something "cute").

7. He'd probably post photos of Chester every second like Chester would disappear if he stopped.

8. He's usually flirty towards Bryce and talks with him the most out of all the other preps.

Bryce Montrose:

1. He often complains about everything "wrong" with bull worth town and its people to try and "relate" with the other preps.

2. He's part scottish like Chad (This is the same with Chad and Parker, idk why most of them have scottish last names, I'm making all of them scottish atp :'] ).

3. He has Poliosis, specifically his hair. He has a lock of white hair and often uses boxed hair dye (cuz he can't afford to get it professionally dyed) to make it the same color as the rest of his hair because he fears people will make fun of him for it (not even Chad knows about it).

4. Anytime Chad tried to flirt with him, he reminds him that they're in public (or with the other preps) cuz he doesn't want to get "humiliated".

5. He doesn't really have that big of a fashion sense, so anytime he's going out, he just slaps a suit on and calls it a day.

6. He'd probably have the most blank social media profile ever.

Justin Vandervelde:

1. He reads an godly amount of Greek mythology books and has made it his whole personality (apart from his corny egg jokes and his love for sports and surfing).

2. He's part Dutch (because his last name is Dutch, I think you get the gist of it).

3. He loves to go surfing and swimming at the beach and even makes sand castles, the beach is basically where he lives atp.

4. He's good friends with Parker and tad.

5. Parker often jokes about him having a "crush" on Ted (the quarterback, not tad), and he always denies it (but he's honestly questioning himself on whether or not he likes Ted romantically).

6. He posts surfing videos on his social media profile (and gets insulted by the greasers in his comments like the other preps).

7. He wears indie and retro style clothes outside of school cuz he loves vivid and neon colors.

Gord Vandome:

1. He's part French.

2. He has his ears pierced for maximum customization. Sick B·)

3. He has an extremely high self-esteem and doesn't care that the rest of the preps dislike him (I don't even think he knows that they dislike him tbh).

4. He'd be caught dead wearing skinny jeans (to him, wearing skinny jeans is like betraying himself).

5. He likes to explore a lot of different fashion styles but usually wears elegant and old money style clothing.

6. He posts fashion tips and videos on his profile all while Johnny sends him death threats in his comment sections (he's also kinda popular and is basically bull worth town's version of wisdom Kaye).

Tad Spencer:

1. Tad is half British and is probably the only prep with a British accent (I know that his english accent is supposed to be "fake", but let me imagine it being an actual accent and leave me be pls).

2. Parker often comforts him about his father's abusive behavior anytime they're at school or out in town (he's also good friends with Justin, but Justin doesn't know much about Tad's family).

3. He, Justin, and Parker usually draw with chalk in the Harrington House's courtyard and often makes drawings about the greasers and how much they suck (the reason why I made this headcanon was because I saw chalk drawings of hopscotch and doodles on the floor of the Harrington House's courtyard and thought it'd be cool to add this).

4. Tad is kind of an age regressor, that's why he often draws things with Parker. Parker often praises him for his drawing skills and Tad just awkwardly thanks him cuz he has never been complimented about anything before (he looks up to Parker and Justin).

5. He often wears slightly oversized hoodies and sweaters cuz they're comfortable.

6. Even though he hates Gord, he often asks him for fashion advice and what to wear.

7. He'd post random memes he found on the internet without giving credit to the original creator of said meme because he thinks it's "unnecessary".

I'm planning on making a separate post for my headcanons about the clique leaders, so just wait y'all! Bye :D

[calciumdeficientt]

Hey, Bif headcanons *slides a 503737494 dollar note* keep the change man

Gee thanks! I can’t wait to *checks smudged writing on hand* buy aguaburdy with this!

BIF TAYLOR HEADCANONS

Bif Bif he’s our man he’s our man who… cannot tan. It’s really sad, all the other preps can lounge freely in the sun and get various levels of luxurious tan while Bif… he just burns. If he doesnt apply countless coats of factor 50 suncream every hour or so he will go from milky white, to red, and then to blistered. There is no tan to be seen. Under the right conditions he does develop a smattering of cute little freckles but he never actually tans.

Bif prides himself on his boxing, in fact for a long while he put all his eggs in one basket and focused purely on the noble art. But he also plays a mean game of basketball, given his imposing stature. He doesn’t play often because there’s little to no preps that would even consider touching a basketball, let alone playing with it. He’s been told its improper for him to play more modern sports like basketball, so he doesnt bother with it much. He can only thrash Justin in a shootout so much before he actually feels bad for the guy.

He has to get all his pants tailor made. Not even out of a desire for them to be bespoke, they’ve got perfectly decent pairs of trousers at aquaberry, its more out of necessity. Bif’s height is oddly distributed, he’s got far more leg than torso, so most pants in his waist size when pulled up become capris. He had growth spurt after growth spurt as a kid so he’s no stranger to having things tailored (if you’ll excuse the pun), but now he’s a little older he does feel mildly left out when the other guys go out to buy their schoolwear and he can only purchase the top half of all his outfits.

Bif has a frequent flier card for rhinoplasty, he’s had countless nose jobs but just can’t seem to stop getting pounded in the face and wasting another 10 grand of his father’s money. Between surgeries, Bif does his best to draw attention away from his nose, not that anyone can really see that high anyway. It’s usually crooked, often tilted to the left but dependent on who he was last fighting it can sometimes skew right.

Derby wont be seen with him until he gets his nose fixed AGAIN so Bryce takes over as right hand man and Bif can get some much needed rest. He’s a very tired young man, especially as he spends most of his time following Derby around like a lapdog. And from all the boxing too, he trains seven days a week, often for up to nine hours a day. All that and school is enough to tire anyone out.

He has a shrine of his own achievements in his room at Harrington house, he doesn’t need to keep them, they’re also displayed at glass jaw, where he spends most of his time anyway. But he feels he has to keep them in his room to remind him that he is not, in fact, a failure and has accomplished many great things. Hanging around a guy as effortlessly self assured as Derby Harrington puts a lot of pressure on you, this is doubled by the fact that Bif has been the title holder for so long, he can’t relax, he can’t seem sure of his position, or he’ll lose it.

Collector and documenter of all things rap, well maybe not all things but he has a catalogue of a good few artists. His interest is mostly in the rap scene of the late 80’s to early 90’s with artists like The Notorious BIG, Ice Cube, Eminem and MF Doom as staples of his collection. He wish the preps weren’t quite so snobby about music, Bif genuinely believes that if they just tried to listen to some of the artists that they might genuinely really enjoy it. It’s all just poetry… often, violent poetry. Like war poetry, y’know?

Bif all likes to collect watches, they’re so effortlessly classy to him, and they can really elevate an outfit. It’s not often he gets to wear his watches, he’s fighting and training so often that he sometimes forgets to put one on in the few hours he has spare before he’s back in the ring. But for special events like parties, galas and other such fancy gatherings, he takes a good amount of time (heheh get it) to search for the perfect timepiece to go with his suit. The one he wears most often is a white gold rolex that Derby bought him for. Christmas when he was a Freshman, a ‘welcome to bullworth’ gift, if you will. They’d been tots together but up until then no one had really ever taught him to appreciate watches in the way Derby had.

[fishcow99]

OUTLINING HARMONY HS AU jiygufgvjh

they're all in 11th grade, 16-17 years old.

17, erich loves english. he's quite good at science but hates doing dissections and really just bio in general. always gets straight As. he's an only child and his parents place a lot of pressure on him to do well. he joined the group to spite his parents after an argument and then cried for a whole night. good friends with lesh, secretly likes him too. very anxious, very much a people pleaser. gets anxiety attacks. nervous laughs a lot. he doodles on his notes and writes in perfect cursive.

17, bobby is surprisingly good at math, but he doesn't care too much about any of it. doesn't really have any friends. passes all of his classes with As and Bs and the occasional C. his advisory teacher and told him about singing group. he's very close with her as his own parents treat him and his younger sister very poorly. very protective of his sister. he doesn't talk a whole lot, especially if you don't know him. but when he does, it's generally very loud. a bit of a cynicist. he has anger issues.

16, rabbi is at the top of his art class and very proud of it. this bitch will shamelessly chat your ear off about his latest piece with a smile on his face. he's got an older sister and has twin younger sisters. he's somewhat good friends with chopin, as their girlfriends are very close. he joined the club because he saw a flyer and thought it sounded cool. pretty happy-go-lucky. he and mary will gossip endlessly about the boys and all the drama. very emotionally intelligent.

17, harry is a history nerd in every way possible and also decent at coding. he does well in school overall but struggles a bit in english. he has one older brother in college. this is his first year at this school, and he created the club in an effort to meet new people. he and ruth have a few classes together and are becoming friends. he will hyperfocus on something for like fourteen hours straight and shut himself in his room while he does. he schedules everything. generally upbeat, but he gets really stressed if things don't go to plan.

16, lesh doesn't really care about any subject in particular, he's just generally happy to exist. he's certainly not the best at school, but he's still passing at least. He's the youngest of three, with the oldest being his brother and the middle as his sister. he joined the group because erich did. erich is his best friend in the world. this dude is constantly brimming with energy and just always filled with joy. quite similar to a golden retriever puppy. also very oblivious to everything happening around him. can't read the room whatsoever.

17, chopin does NOT vibe with school at all. he's doing okay in music. other than that, he is failing at least half of his classes and is about to fail the rest. he has an older brother and an older sister who live on their own. he joined the club after ruth told him he might like it. friendsish with rabbi. he's very sarcastic and very cynical. very cocky and a bit of a showoff. he's the only one who's able to backflip and is very proud of that. daddy issues thinks smoking looks bad ass but doesn't want to ruin his voice, so he constantly has a candy cane in his mouth.

16, mary doesn't really have a favorite subject, but she is good in english. she always has straight As. She has a younger and an older brother. really good friends with ruth, knows chopin pretty well. very friendly, very patient with rabbi's rambling. slightly less chatty than him. but is still very talkative.

17, ruth does great in her political science class, and almost always gets straight As. she is an only child. really good friends with ruth, pretty good friends with rabbi. she is very energetic and very active in her own clubs n stuff. keeps chopin in line/keeps him from doing stupid things. has common sense.

[bullet-prooflove]

Lake Tahoe!Series Part Three: Goodbye - Manny x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @theesirenteller @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @wnbweasley @bonni-98 @skyesthebomb @yezzyyae @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @redpool

Part One: Black Bear Lodge - Your life changes when you meet Manny at Black Bear Lodge.

Part Two: Something Special (NSFW) - Manny gives you a night like no other.

You spend three days with Manny.

Whiskey tasting in Westland Distillery, comparing notes and swapping glasses when you found one he loved and you hated. You come back to his suite a little tipsy, a little playful, nipping at his lower lip as he fucks you on the couch. You fall asleep, entwined with him, blanket strewn over your naked bodies as his fingers comb through your hair.

You hit the Golden Nugget casino, where you discover you’re terrible at Poker but half decent at Blackjack. You win some, you lose some, but it doesn’t really matter because you haven’t smiled like this for a long time. When the band starts to play, Manny pulls you onto the dance floor. He’s a good dancer, better than you but he doesn’t seem to care, he just likes the feel of holding you close, of the music rushing through his veins as dances with a beautiful woman.

On the last night, you sneak into the outdoor hot tub after hours, both conveniently forgetting your swimsuits. He makes love to you with the jets running, his fingers running through your damp hair as you climax so hard you see stars.

Those three days, it’s the most fun you’ve had in forever.

You’re packing your things when he enters your room, propping his suitcase up alongside of the door. He watches you for a second before he picks up one of your shirts, folding it neatly before placing it inside your go-bag.

“Where are you off to next?” He asks, before he picks up the next item of clothing.

“Thailand.” You tell him, a small smile crossing your features. “I’m writing an article about the metal tube technique and how it ties in with the culture there. It’s a very spiritual practice, I’d like to learn more about it.”

The thing he’s learned about you over the past few days is that you have an affinity for spirituality and culture. When you talk about your experiences, the rituals you’ve viewed, the knowledge you’ve gained it’s always with respect and reverence. It comes across in your writing. He’s read a few of your articles online whilst you were in the shower, and you were talented. You'd won an award a few years back for your photography showcase called ‘The Ancient Art’ documenting different tattoo methods throughout the world.

“You should send me a postcard.” He says, the edges of his mouth twitching up.

“Where to?” You laugh and that sound it resonates right through him. “Manny at the Black Bear Lodge, I don’t even know your last name.”

Manny reaches over to the nightstand; picking up the pen and paper residing there before he scribbles something down and hands it to you.

“Now you do.”

He sees the expression on your face.  He understands your reservations. You’ve been burned before. The man before him wanted a partner, someone to share his life with. You aren’t that woman, you need independence, freedom because at the heart of it you’re a nomad, seeking out adventure and living for new experiences. Trying to stifle that would be like caging a bird, it needs to be set free, to fly.

“I’m not asking for anything from you.” He tells you resolutely. “I’ve got my own shit going on. Between my kid and the Presidency, I don’t have time for anything else, but it would be nice to get something in the mail that isn’t a bill, maybe see the world a little too.”

You smile at that. He thinks you understand it in your own way. The responsibilities you free yourself from are the ones he willingly accepts. His daughter, his club, his community. He’ll never be able to break away, but he doesn’t want to. He’s in the exact place he’s supposed to be.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You tell him before zipping up your go-bag.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He teases, picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

His fingers link with yours, his thumb smoothing over the apex of your hand as the two of you walk down to your car, shoulders and hips bumping. He’s not ready to be out of your proximity just yet. He usually doesn’t have a problem with leaving but you, you’re different. He hasn’t felt this content in a while.

“Hit me up next time you’re in town.” He whispers as he tips your chin up with his fingertips so he can look into your eyes. “You’re a lot of fun to be around.”

You’re going to miss him; you realise in the moment. His easy-going nature, his humour, there’s something about this man that’s gotten under your skin, and you just can’t seem to shake it.

“I will.” You promise him, your lips brushing over his. “You’re a lot of fun too.”

Love Manny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[iamapoopmuffin]

Reflection

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Characters: Astarion, Tav/OC Relationships: Astarion/Tav

Astarion has long since forgotten what, exactly, he looks like. His boyfriend wishes he had a way to share exactly how he looks to him, and one night thinks he may have figured out just how to do it.

[Using my player character for BG3, Jacquimo, a half-orc bard uneducated street urchin disaster bisexual aligned chaotic neutral-chaotic good.]

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54702118

As much as Jacquimo would have liked to have said it was a quiet, peaceful evening, the fact was their bed and board above the Elfsong Tavern was typically anything but. Between the lingering vampire spawn blood housekeeping hadn't been able to get out of the furnishings (for which he claimed to be very sorry) leaving a bit of a smell in the air and a stickiness on the floor that he would rather not think about, and the sounds of the raucous drunks below either enjoying themselves or drowning their sorrows, it made for...quite the atmosphere, to put it lightly. Still, compared to what the half-orc was used to, this was heaven. He'd all but forgotten what it felt like to sleep in a proper bed, and the streets had always been plenty noisy as well.

Sat on his bed, scribbling away in an old notebook, everything else faded out to a strange ambience. This had always been Jacquimo's element. As a bard, he excelled in spinning stories and conveying tales through word, song and poem. Over his years, he'd written and performed many a yarn, ode or sonnet, and some of them were even halfway decent pieces. He'd never had such inspiration like that gifted to him by his most recent journey though. This past week alone he had written so much, the stories and legacies of his new friends, songs on hardship and survival, music he could hear the notes of carried on the wind. One particular piece had been a problem for him, however.

It was a simple poem, words spun like silk to form a painting in your head. An Ode To A Star, he called it, and he had been working on it ever since Astarion told him he could no longer remember his own face. Karlach had suggested someone draw his portrait, but Jacquimo had never been good at that. So he tried to write it. Descriptive art to show his favourite person, the love of his life, exactly how he looked to him.

Let me be your mirror

Let me show you through my eyes

The most beautiful a being

The gods ever did devise

Let me show you every detail

Every wrinkle, every scar

Utter drivel, all of it. Resisting the urge to rip the page out, crumple the paper and throw it aside, Jacquimo cast his gaze to the window, thinking. What could he possibly say to truly convey what he needed to? Words would never be a true substitute for actually being able to see himself. And the wrong words would just cause upset. Mentions of wrinkles, for one, even if they were something Jacquimo liked about his lover. Character. Experience. All part of one damned gorgeous man.

Eyes flitting between the words on the page and the dark night outside, he paused when he caught sight of his own reflection in the glass.

Let me be your mirror.

If only it was that simple. If only he could truly show Astarion exactly what he saw when he looked at him. It wasn't like he could be like the glass in that window. It wasn't like Astarion could really see through his eyes.

Wait.

Except he could, couldn't he?

Jacquimo snapped the notebook shut and looked across the room, at each of his companions. Those who shared the tadpole infection were able to connect their minds together, weren't they? He remembered seeing himself through Lae'zel's eyes on the Nautiloid. Seeing Astarion's memory of watching him walk through the confines of the pod. Giving him his memories of breaking free of his own pod in response. Seeing paths carved through the hells through the eyes of Wyll and Karlach. The tadpole connection allowed them to see through each other's eyes, see thoughts and memories, feel what each other felt.

An idea in his head, the bard placed his notebook back in his pack and got to his feet, making his way over to where Astarion had set up. He clearly heard his lover's approach, as he closed the book he was reading, looking up to meet his eyes. "Always a pleasure to see you sauntering over. Did you need something, my dear?"

"I had a thought. Or an epiphany."

There was a subtle twitch up of the vampire's lips. "Using that brain of yours, are we?"

"I know, I know, a rare novelty. Really, though, I think I might have figured something out. How I can show you your face again."

A nearly imperceptible shift in his eyes. Interest. Curiosity. Hope? "Really now? Well, I have to say, you know how to pique my interest, darling." His voice held no sarcasm, the thought of seeing his face once more undeniably enticing.

"It's rather obvious in hindsight." Jacquimo mused, more to himself, before addressing the elf properly. "I can't promise you'll like it, but it's an option if you want to use it. The tadpoles. They give us that connection, allow us to see each other's memories. You could look into my memories, or perhaps even see through my eyes now. See yourself."

He froze, processing the words. It seemed almost ludicrous, but he was right, everything he said was right. "You would let me into your head, just to see my face? You'd let me just...poke around inside your mind like that? I could find anything in there."

"I would." He didn't even hesitate. "I trust you. I would trust you with my mind any time. And I want to do something for you."

Astarion reached up, ghosting his fingers across the bard's cheek, his voice coming out soft and vulnerable. "You have already done many things for me, you know."

"Then what's one more thing?"

"And you trust me far more than you should. It isn't wise, darling."

"Who ever said I was wise?"

Astarion retracted his hand, glancing around to ensure none of the others were eavesdropping. When he spoke, it was quiet, and completely serious. No teasing, no lighthearted foppery, no sarcasm. "And you're sure about this? About letting me into your head? I...I don't want you feeling you have to do this. You are far too self sacrificing, do far too much for others, I don't want to do this unless you're entirely comfortable with this. This is your mind we're talking about, every inner personal part of you. Just...please tell me you're sure about this."

Jacquimo nodded, confident. "I'm sure. You're only looking at my memories of your face, that's all I'm showing you. I trust you not to go anywhere I don't want you going, and I think I know how to keep people out of things when I need to - I was able to block Z'rell, Minthara and even the Emperor out of certain thoughts, and they were trying to dig into things I didn't want them seeing. I think even with the connection active we can respect each other's privacy just fine, I don't think either of us have been ones to pry. I wouldn't offer this if I wasn't sure. As much as I joke that I am an idiot, I do think things through, you know. For the most part, anyway."

A smile graced those beautiful features. He so wanted to see his face again, to remember that part of himself long forgotten, and it seemed this reward was worth the risk. Jacquimo had a way with words, of making him feel like it would be okay if only he put his faith in him, and it seemed it was time to put his faith in him again. "Then yes, darling. I would like to try it. It's about time I saw how beautiful I really am, after all."

The decision made, the bard gently reached out and took the rogue's hands, eyes meeting and holding each other's gaze as they opened that connection, reaching out with the squirming, wriggling tadpoles within, a power none too pleasant, but this time for a worthwhile cause.

And then there he was, right where he could see himself.

Astarion turned his head this way and that, taking in every inch of his own face as seen through his lover's eyes. Jacquimo let him in, focusing on memories, on that face. On the line of his jaw, the bow of his lips, the curve of his brow. On delicate lashes framing piercing red eyes that could grow so round, almost doe-like under the right circumstances. The laugh lines that made themselves known during moments of joy, the way the edges of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Soft curls framing pointed ears, almost shining when the light hits them just right. And not just the way he looked when happy, but sad as well. When he cried, or knew he'd gone too far, when fear and anxiety took hold. The way anger could peel his lips back in a snarl. Baring fangs in threat. That first meeting, that look of suspicion. Plotting looks, teasing glances, moments of internal conflict. Everything. Every part of him, of who he is, of who he was. Every fine detail. Everything he'd lost and forgotten in all those years of torment. Bringing a hazy, indistinct image into focus, making it clear once more.

Letting himself be the mirror Astarion wanted, needed, for as long as he wanted or needed.

[iamprchung]

The Wan Ton Weekend

Yep, this fever-dream nonlinear narrative is back!

A long forgotten one-off that an awesome reader sought out and inspired the repost. Thanks @gloriousqueenfest!

Everyone enjoy the chaos that is Skinner/Scully!

Available on AO3

Synopsis: Scully’s weekend takes a wild turn when Mulder calls from Vegas with shocking news. What starts as a desperate attempt to stop his latest questionable life choice quickly spirals into a snowed-in misadventure featuring takeout, tension, and one very patient Assistant Director. A comedy of errors ensues—complete with misunderstandings, chaos, and maybe just a little bit of fate.

Notes: This is absolutely a Fever-Dream PWP (Plot? What Plot?) repost from the annals of X-Files SSR fiction.

I think this is the fluffiest excuse for smut there ever was. And this is written in a nonlinear narrative style that some readers may find confusing—but give it a chance.

And before I forget, because I do that frequently with these types of things, this symbol (that I hope shows up for most in this post) “福” is the Chinese symbol for “Good Luck.”

And I’m sorry – I have removed the use of the word “undulating” because—wow, could that get anymore cliché?

Music referenced and of note: Appropriately the Barenaked Ladies, ‘It’s All Been Done.’ Also ‘Pinch me’ by the same band seems appropriate as well but isn’t represented in the story.

Special Thanks: Paula and Tina (You know who you are)—your influence and beta recs are still all over this story, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. And a huge thanks to a long-time fan who sought this out and inspired me (lit a fire under my procrastinating butt) to clean it up and repost it.

Oh and that terrible cover art here is nothing compared to the original cover art... LOL.

The Wan Ton Weekend by PR Chung

January 15th Saturday Morning

"Hel..." her voice degenerated into a grotesque guttural gurgle upon answering the phone. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Hello?"

"Scully? Scully!" It sounded like Mulder, but the voice was partially drowned out by his own shouting.

"Mulder?"

"Scully, I had to call you, I had to tell you wonderful-fantastic news!"

"Okay..." she tried prying her eyes open, but it made her head hurt. She tried just opening one eye and it wasn't so bad. "What's the news..." she asked reading the time with her one good eye: two-thirty-six AM. "It's almost three in the morning..."

"Not here!" His voice peaked.

She sighed. "Mmm… kay, where are you?"

"I'm in Vegas…”

"Really?" She muttered slipping back into the fuzzy warm place she'd been swimming around in only a moment ago. "Did you get some kind of good holiday rate..." “I'm getting married!” he laughed excitedly. Scully frowned. “What?”

"Scully, listen, just listen," he was excitedly saying, "she's beautiful, she knows me- She's a Goddess!"

"Hmmm..." she murmured, "all right, I'll talk to you about it tomorrow... bye."

She clumsily pressed the off button and aimed blindly at the receiver cradle, missing. She was already drifting back to sleep before the cordless handset skittered to a stop on the hardwood floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Watch out for the seat belt-

"Whoa-"

Something large and very solid stopped her impending decent on the pavement. Half in- half out of the back seat of the car, Scully looked up into twinkling green eyes. Joel loomed over her, like a Gap ad come to life, supporting her weight effortlessly and grinning. He was obviously amused by her predicament.

"Careful there, Dana," was all he said and lifted her fully out of the car, placing her on the ground. He held onto her a moment longer, steadying her. Was she wobbling? Well, if she wasn't, her apartment building certainly was, she thought looking past him.

"Hey, walk her to the door," Michelle called over the sound of the car radio and soft bing-bing of the open car door chime.

Scully threw a half-baked glare back at her friend, embarrassed yet thankful for the extra help in getting this guy to the door. Maybe, finally, he'd kiss her. She'd thrown all her subtle and not so subtle charms at him, willing his attention- his full attention... But she was afraid she'd had a wee bit too much at the wine bar, and just maybe, perhaps, that wasn't so attractive.

"Mademoiselle?" He offered his arm to her, and she latched onto it happily. He shut the car door and lead Scully up the walk to the front steps of the apartments. She mounted the steps almost gleefully, but he didn't follow. Still clutching his rock-solid bicep, she nearly toppled backward when he stopped at the foot of the steps.

She turned and he was peeling her hand off his arm, almost finger by finger, appearing panicked by her resistance.

"Um," he grunted as he freed himself from her, "it's… been… a fun evening," he continued, backing away slowly.

"It really was," she agreed earnestly, starting back down the steps toward him, "maybe we could do it again sometime—"

He threw his hands up, she stopped. Then, self-consciously, he smiled and lowered them, saying, "Good night, Dana."

Nodding, she smiled thinly and hugged herself against the cold that was suddenly penetrating her coat and the warmth of the alcohol. "Okay, night."

She watched as he got back in the car, returning Michelle's wave as they drove away.

The taillight's red glow disappeared from sight, but Scully stood on the brick steps listening to the fading sound of her friend's car engine, her breath clouding the cold, still air. She remained there a long while, rummaging through the freeze-framed images of the night, wondering when exactly it was that she had gone past adorably tipsy and fell headlong into annoyingly drunk.

A cat crossed her line of vision, at first there were two, but once she squeezed her eyes open and shut a couple of times it was only one little tabby. She absently watched it snake around parked car tires, rubbing and sniffing things, doing cat things, until she found it no longer interesting and went inside to go to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood there in the half open doorway blinking back at her, confounded. "Married--" Skinner started, then went on with, "what?"

"Mulder's in Las Vegas and he's getting married." She declared perhaps a little too loudly.

Skinner frowned at her and seemed to sniff the air between them. "Scully, have you been drinking?"

Her mouth dropped open, aghast at his inference- then realized she had been drinking.

"No-Y-yes- Some."

"Scully," he sighed and leaned against the door to his apartment with unaffected casualness.

"Sir, we have to stop him... I don't think he knows what he's doing."

Skinner chewed at his lip.

"He's getting married." She stressed again.

"I'll congratulate him the next time I see him." Again, her mouth went slack. Skinner straightened, agitated. "All right, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I-I don't know... Help me."

"Why don't you get his friends," he gestured past her toward the hall, "those gunmen guys..."

"They don't answer." Her shoulders sagged.

"I didn't answer," he declared, emphasizing by placing a hand over his chest, "that didn't stop you from coming over here... Did you drive here?"

"I took a cab- But your phone was busy, and… I knew—I hoped you were here at least..." her voice was beginning to take on a sort of whimpering quality.

He cocked his head, started to say something, then changed his mind, saying instead, "I was on-line."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh my God!"

Her head felt like it was going to explode when she came straight up from the mattress into a sitting position. Her head was pounding, her mind racing. The vague recollection of Mulder's words doing a clog dance on the foggy fringe of what sobriety she had managed to hang onto.

The bedroom was black but for the eerie red glow of the digital clock, this only added panic to her already skewed perception of time and place. She jerked around looking at the clock: two-forty-eight. What time had it been? She racked her brain frantically trying to remember what time he had called, she knew she had looked at the clock. Had only a few minutes passed? Yes, yes, just a few minutes- She went leaping from the bed, her feet tangling in the bedding...

Shards of smart pain zipped through her knees as she picked herself up off the floor, cursing the bedding, cursing the floor. Not quite done cursing she snapped on the light and headed for the closet. She caught a leg in her jeans, she cursed some more and tore a nail on the zipper—

"Shit."

She had a sweatshirt over her head before she stopped to wonder what exactly she was doing.

It wasn't like she could just jump in the car and drive over to Las Vegas, now, could she?

"Damn," she hissed yanking the sweatshirt back off, taking her pajama top with it.

Bare from the waist up she collected the cordless phone from the floor and dialed Mulder's cell phone number. All she got was the recording again and again, the monotone and android-like voice telling her the customer she was trying to reach was—  Oh, hell, how many times had she been down this road?

She hit the speed dial programmed for the lair of the Lone Gunmen. The line rang twice before she realized she was half naked- She hung up abruptly. She couldn't talk to Frohike in this state, never mind that he couldn't see her- She just couldn't do it!

Jammies back on, she dialed again.

"Hello?"

Scully's heart stopped at the groggy sound of her mother's voice. She had hit the wrong speed dial number! Her mouth was moving rapidly but nothing was coming out. What to do! What to say-?

"Hello?" Now her mother was beginning to sound concerned. Oh, no, not scared even...

"Sorry," Scully dropped her voice so deep she nearly coughed, but managed to finish her baritone disguised apology, "wrong number."

The phone clutched in her hand, her heart racing, she squeezed her eyes shut against the queasiness in her stomach- the dizziness in her head. She took a quick breath, collecting her wits and dialed more carefully.

There was no answer.

How the hell could there be no answer? Weren't these three utterly nocturnal in nature? Weren't the three of them constantly on third watch- Okay, well, maybe not so much Byers, she rectified the presumption. He really seemed the most normal, the most reality-based of the three, with his neat and clean, socially appeasing appearance.

She plopped down on the bed blowing her breath out. Now who? Now what?

Her head felt like it was caught in an isolated whirlwind- localized just in her bedroom, just in the exact space her cranium occupied...

"Oh, why'd I drink so much...?" she whispered to the walls, holding her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was just lying there, stretched out over the length of the sofa, asleep. His jaw slack with relaxation in contrast to the tension of his hand that was clutching the TV remote to his chest. His posture, his entire appearance suggested an evening of excess, although she could tell this wasn't the case. More of a night spent quietly surfing the web and twisting the heads off a few friends...

She glanced toward the desk and eyed the beer bottles glistening in the light of the television.

About six to eight friends...

Turning back, she let her eyes linger over him, hovering in absent thought over the place where his shirt had hiked up over his stomach... A flat... fuzzy... stomach. Was it as firm as it appeared? Or was that just gravity doing its thing? She had suspected at times, while in his office, that he was sucking it in every time he got up from behind his desk. He just had that look about him, like he was holding his breath... Could that have been for her benefit? Nahhhh...

Her eyes traveled over the length of his forearm, mesmerized by the thick fine blanket of dark hair, a physical feature sadly hidden by dress shirts. Her gaze followed the toned curve of his muscles. She cocked a brow, a mischievous notion striking her. A notion constructed from unfinished business earlier in her evening... Freeze framed flashes of her fingers being peeled off that guy’s arm... What the hell was his name again?

Skinner stirred.

Scully caught her breath, beginning a nervous little dance in place, knowing she should go but somehow not being able to pry her eyes off his body.

Too late—

Skinner opened his eyes, and her heart crammed itself into her throat.

Looking a bit dazed he glanced around until his focus fell on the television... without ever noticing the shape hanging motionless at his feet. Rediscovering the remote in his hand he reached out with it, shutting off the TV.

The room went dark. Scully took relief in knowing she was completely hidden now; all she would have to do is slowly start back stepping before he ran over her in the dark.

Step, step-

She saw him coming off the sofa, his figure blotting out what scant city lights there were beyond the balcony window blinds. As though magnetically drawn, he headed straight toward her— of course he had the advantage of knowing his way around his home in the dark, knowing the placement of his furniture- but Scully, on the other hand, did not.

Trying to get out of his way before the inevitable collision she back stepped quickly and immediately into the end table.

Aside from being aware of the rattle and crash of everything on the table, and the table itself tumbling over, Scully realized she was going down with it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Scully, just go home," he told her without much ceremony. "He'll be fine. It's not like he's in any immediate danger other than one wicked headache in the morning..."

Her feelings of immediacy were beginning to wear off, or perhaps it was just the alcohol that was wearing off. She knew he was right; Mulder wasn't in any danger. Why had she been so panicked anyway?

"Can I use your phone?"

"Wha- Why?" More irritation seeped from him.

"Well, I told the cab not to wait."

"Don't you have your cell phone?" He didn't mean for it to sound the way it did. It was more concern for her safety, her ability to call for help if need be, rather than a reluctance to let her in to use his phone. But what he meant and what she had heard were obviously two very different things judging by her expression. "Fine... Yes, you can use..."

"No," she shook her head. "No, thank you. I wouldn't want to disturb you any further."

She plucked her cell phone out and held it up for him to see, then walked off unsteadily down the hall.

Without a second glance he shut the door.

Damn it.

His hand was still resting on the door handle, the guilt already starting to prick at his guts. Wrenching himself away he walked across the living room slowly, drawing a hand back over his head. He could have at least offered her a ride home... He glanced over to the desk, eyeing the empty beer bottles sitting next to the computer in a sad neat row. Perhaps he wasn't running around jumping to conclusions in the middle of the night, but he didn't believe he was in the best shape to be driving either.

He went closer to the desk, studying the computer screen for a moment, his thoughts no longer on the images tiled there. Somehow, letting a less than straight Scully stagger off into the night (the snowy night, he amended the thought with a glance toward the balcony) had deaden his interest in fake nudes of Shania Twain...

Damn.

He switched off the computer without going through the hassle of shutting it down and went to the balcony, sliding on his bare feet across the slick tiles, stopping himself at the rail short of going over the side. Recovering, his heart still thudding from the near miss, he looked down, seventeen floors to the street, searching for a sign and found, with a stab of responsibility, a tiny little red-headed figure huddled against the cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snowflakes landing on her face, Scully glanced up at the high-rise, eyeing the sparse sprinkling of lit windows across its face and wondered for a moment if she should have done this. She turned back and looked at the cab driver, "maybe you could wait for me?"

"I will have to run the meter, miss lady." The dark man called back over the seat to her in a thick and ambiguously foreign accent.

She had already poured a fortune out, and her cash on hand was limited. "Um, okay, never mind."

She lingered on the sidewalk, peering up again at the building wishing she could stop swaying long enough to count up to his... Surely she would be able to figure out which of these hundreds of windows belonged to Skinner... She grabbed her head to steady it, stop the spinning, the pounding.

After the world was fixed again she headed off toward the entrance ignoring the fact that she was still wholly uncertain about coming here. He hadn't answered the phone either, but it had rung busy, so at least she knew he was home. But what was Skinner doing on the phone this late and for so long?

The line rang busy again even as she traveled up in the elevator.

She put away her cell phone, noticing the battery needed a serious charge.

Maybe he took the phone off the hook, she thought heading down the hall toward his door. What if he's taken the phone off the hook to get some sleep— What if he's got... company? She suddenly thought, her knuckles wavering just a hair away from knocking.

She bit her lip and forged ahead, rapping the door hard.

There was a long beat before she heard the tumblers turn in the lock.

She tensed, batting away the intense urge to shut her eyes.

The door came open on a man she might have never recognized in a line-up as her superior; without his glasses, bare foot and wearing baggy gray sweats and a faded navy tee shirt with stray threads jutting out from where there used to be sleeves and a jagged tear from the neckline down that created a "V" the manufacturer hadn't intended.

Staggered, her eyes widened.

He was scowling at her, but her eyes had roamed away from his direct gaze and lit on the hint of chest hair escaping the homemade V-neck.

"Scully, what are you doing here?"

She jerked her attention back up.

Taking him in on the whole, she swallowed hard finding that she really wasn't quite sure now why she'd come all the way over here in the wee hours of the morning and through the falling snow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ass over heels, she went with a "Whoop!" Crashing down, her feet flew up and she felt her foot smash something, and heard Skinner let out an undeniable "Oof!"

What in God's name had she kicked? She miserably wondered as she tried to pick herself up off the floor in the dark.

The lights came on— track lights running the length of the living room ceiling— like stage lights and she was the center attraction.

"Scully?" Skinner all but yelled, one hand still on the light switch across the room, the other cupping himself as though shielding them from further attack.

"I-I couldn't see when you turned off the television." She explained.

"Well, what the hell were you doing anyway?"

"I wanted some aspirin?" It came out more of a question than an answer.

He was staring at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes and she realized her tee shirt- his tee shirt- was hiked up around her thighs exposing the crotch of her emerald green panties.

She yanked the hem down, scooting back out of the wreckage of his end table.

"Watch out," he warned, suddenly coming toward her in a sort of stumble. "There's glass here-"

She just missed putting her foot right on the jagged piece of colored glass that had been a.. a candy dish or... well, something only moments ago.

"I'm sorry... I'll replace it."

Gingerly picking glass from the carpet Skinner shook his head, grunting, "I didn't like it anyway."

She looked at a shard she'd collected for him and wondered aloud, "what was it?"

"An ash tray."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Great."

She had only just started to dial the cab company's number when the battery died on the cell phone. She checked the lobby for a pay phone, there were none. Stuffing the cell phone back into her coat pocket she looked out the front doors to the bare street out in front of Skinner's apartment building, curious as to what her chances of a cab passing by were.

She went out and stood at the very edge of the awning, looking up and down the street through the falling snow. There wasn't a moving car in sight.

She held herself against the cold, analyzing what the hell could have been wrong with her- coming all the way over here when he hadn't even answered. Sure, the busy signal had told her he was home, but what had she expected, Skinner to eagerly start packing his bags?

She huffed at the stupidity her drinking had blanketed her in.

"Scully..." She turned to see Skinner standing in the doorway. He'd thrown on a jacket and loafers, no socks. "Just stay here," he said to her humbly, "it's too late to be crossing town."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir?"

She was at the door, softly knocking.

The cursing, the grunting had increased to the point where she could no longer ignore it and became concerned, suspecting he had gotten a piece of glass in his foot.

When there was no answer she called again through the door, "sir, are you all right-?"

The door came open. "Yes," he breathed, standing on one foot.

"You have glass in your foot, don't you?" she asked, eyeing his impression of a flamingo.

His breath left him in a low, long hiss of resignation. "Yes," he said refusing to make eye contact.

"Do you need help?"

Rather than nodding, wrought with indignation, he swung side to side and hopped back into the bathroom.

"Sit down," she needlessly instructed as she took the tweezers from him. He gave the toilet a leery glance, he didn't need to say anything. She sighed gesturing toward the tub, "sit there, then."

Looking unmistakably miserable with the situation he sat down, still making no eye contact.

"Which one is it?"

"The right," he answered propping his ankle across his left knee. First, before allowing her to see, he looked at the bottom of his foot, grimacing. "It's really in there."

Scully fit herself between the wall and his foot, leaning in to see what she could see, thinking how huge his feet were... You know what they say about men with big fee... Shut up!

She tucked her hair behind her ears and went to work. “Do you have any alcohol?”

“Haven’t we had enough tonight?” he cynically asked.

“Rubbing alcohol…” she explained opening cabinets in search of something to sterilize the tweezers. “Left side, I think…”

Coming back, she winced. "This is probably going to hurt a little," she warned him.

"It can't hurt any worse than when I put my weight on it."

He was wrong.

When she dug into the skin he'd already torn at trying to dislodge the shard he flinched, losing his already precarious balance and started to fall. Scully went to steady him precisely as he blindly grabbed for support. His butt slid off the tub side just as he latched onto her, his weight dragging her with him backward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How many?" She looked at him, striking a blank.

"How many aspirin do you need?" He asked her again, gesturing toward her with the open bottle primed to dispense pills.

"Just two," Scully answered, her jaw dropping immediately—she could have sworn that she saw his mouth move, saw him mock her. “Just two…”

"Tap or ice water?" He grunted, handing her the pills.

"Tap," she answered and watched him get a glass and draw the water.

He was really very gracious despite the way he was grinding out every question. He'd invited her into his home rather than let her cross town alone late at night. He'd given her his room for what was left of the night. Even giving her free reign over his dresser drawer with the instructions to wear what she wanted; she had carefully picked through the neat stacks of tees and sweats but only found a shirt long enough to cover her, no matter how she had tried (and she really had) his huge sweat pants wouldn't stay up over her tiny hips.

And what thanks had she shown for all his kindness— ogling him while he slept, crushing his end table and breaking his knick-knacks? It was no wonder he was growling like a big surly bear.

She could have always said no, she mused heading back upstairs to the bedroom.

Why hadn't he offered her a ride home? Too late for one reason, but more certainly because he too had been drinking. Drinking alone and in front of the computer. She climbed into the bed thinking of how really very sad that picture was.

Shifting in the bed, feeling out of place, and not so much uncomfortable but nervous. She was now lying in his bed, her skin against the same sheets his body touched. The sheets were crisp and clean, and this almost surprised her. She had known a few single men and their beds; the sheets were rarely changed if they were lucky or mindful enough to own a second set of bedding. The bedrooms were another story altogether; smelling of dirty clothes hampers or some obscure source of mildew. Skinner's room smelled good, like sandalwood or cedar, warm and inviting, maybe even a little mysterious.

It was all around actually; on the bedding, in the pillows, dusting the shirt she wore.

Her cheeks began to burn as she languished in the mysteries of Walter Skinner's scent, drifting sleepily down the stairs to the sofa, to his side...

A knock sounded at the door suddenly.

It was soft, unintrusive to the point that she believed he thought she was already asleep.

She said nothing, staring at the door in the dark.

A moment passed before the door came open slowly, soundlessly and Skinner's silhouette appeared, cut in the dull light from downstairs. Holding her breath, her body flushing with nervous anticipation, she watched him enter the room- come toward the bed... She caught her breath shakily, preparing for... And he kept going, right past the bed and into the bathroom.

When the lock clicked she sat up and hit the mattress, mouthing a curse as the light came on in there, slipping out under the door in a sliver. Dowsed desire turned to curiosity as she listened to the hushed sounds from in the bathroom: drawers and cabinets opening and closing, rummaging and shifting. Then, what had started quietly grew louder, the level carefulness dropping dramatically as the search, for whatever it was he was hunting, became more deliberate and concentrated.

Curses began slipping out from under the door.

Then, silence for the longest time.

Okay, well, she couldn't just listen like this, she decided and laid back down pulling a pillow over her head. Give the man some privacy for God's sake...

"Damn it!"

Scully came up off the bed again at the sound of the curse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tangle of arms and legs, struck at inconceivable angles, Skinner and Scully tumbled into the tub. He caught the full brunt of Scully's weight atop him, his head going back from the force, smacking the tiles hard.

Once the initial shock wore off, he groaned dully.

Scully could fell the vibration of his voice, it was hard not to the way she found herself pressed between him and the tub side; her nose smashed into his armpit, her shoulder twisted down and half under his weight, her left leg still over the tub side while her right was shoved precariously close to his crotch pinned by his thick thigh. Although not entirely an unpleasant experience, pinned against his body this way, except for his arm pressing into her ribs like she was lying across a telephone pole.

She realized extrication was a must... and it wasn't going to be a simple matter.

"Pull..." he started to say as they began to work together on this puzzle, "no, can you just...?"

He was trying to scoot back and help her up, but there was no leverage to be found.

"You... turn toward me," she instructed hopefully.

After a great deal of grunting and struggling, attempting a good deal of care not to pinch, squeeze or otherwise injure (or offend) either of them, Skinner could clearly see only brute force was going to do the job.

"Hold on," he warned.

She hesitated, leery of what he was about to do. "Okay," she timidly answered.

He as well was hesitant, aware of the dangerous proximity of her knee to his genitalia. If he wasn't precise, if he didn't calculate his move just right...

Prudence abandoned, he heaved himself toward her, turning on his side. The move shifted Scully onto her back, jarring her teeth and sending her left foot into the air- slapping the shower handle full to C!

Ice cold spray blasted them, Skinner taking it full in the face while Scully caught it through-and through over her back and butt. Gasping, shocked, a living exhibition of approach avoidance, they scrambled clumsily away from the icy deluge while at the same time kicking at the handle together. Somehow, more luck than accuracy in aim, Skinner caught it just right and the glacial rain cut off.

The drain drained and the shower head dripped its last drip. What seemed the length of eternity passed in silence; each sound amplified a hundred-fold.

She was soaked.

He was soaked.

Scully fought off shivers, almost afraid to look up at him.

His face was covered with wetness, droplets of water beaded on his bare scalp rolled down over his creased brow and into his eyes. Squinting, he licked the water from his mouth and said, "Just one less thing to do in the morning."

Her laugh came out in a robust burst.

"You had this planned, didn't you?" He accused her, beginning to laugh as he reached up to wipe water from his eyes.

"What?" She laughed.

He shook his head, a broad, unconditionally uncharacteristic smile spreading across his mouth.

"This reeks of a scheme..."

She giggled, a motion that set her body shuddering against him.

His smile suddenly waned and she slowly stifled her merriment. He looked down on her, his eyes growing dark and fixed. She felt his leg pressing more firmly against the cleft between her legs and caught her breath, thrown by the intense response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Mid-level disturbances over this area, so we won't be seeing a change for at least a while."

The weather report wasn't promising.

It was downright awful, but Dana Scully had nowhere she needed to be- except for right where she was.

She stretched herself long and hard, luxuriating in the coolness of the sheets against her bare skin, delighting in the cause of her soreness, her exhaustion. Nowhere, she thought again and rolled herself up in the bedding, turning from the television to the window. Nowhere at all but right here, she smiled seeing the morning light creeping through the blinds.

"You better not be asleep." She turned back seeing Skinner coming into the bedroom, balancing a plate of- what all she couldn't tell in the bad light.

"I'm not," she grinned and sat up, watching him come around the bed, high stepping clumps of shed clothes and discarded towels. She reveled, watching him stroll before her, magnificently bare, seeing full well that he did not have to suck it in.

He stopped suddenly and seemed to hop sideways, as though he'd stepped on something unexpectedly.

"What is it?"

He searched the floor in the dark for a moment, and then said, "I think I'm going to need to have my carpets shampooed."

Scully covered her mouth, but the laugh came out through her fingers. "I'm sorry."

He blew his breath out. "Takes two to tango," he chuckled, climbing back in bed beside her, careful not to spill the contents of the plate. "I hope left over Chinese is all right."

His feet were cold, and she jumped when they touched her leg under the covers.

"Sorry," he apologized handing her a fork and napkin. "The kitchen floor is like ice."

"Just like the rest of the area," she said around a cheek full of what she thought was Orange Chicken and pointed toward the TV. "Weather channel says it's only going to get worse before it gets better."

"The weather channel always says that" he replied, intently trying to load his fork with fried rice. He carefully brought it to his mouth, cupping one hand beneath the wobbly heap- only to have the rice cascade into his lap a hairbreadth from his lips.

"Let me get that for you," she said putting her fork down and taking the plate from him, smiling mischievously as she leaned over toward the spill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He considered her for a drawn instance, a low hum escaping him, a sort of "hmmm," as if he were pondering what it was going to be like, relishing in the anticipation, resisting the fascination.

Water dripped from his chin onto Scully's lower lip.

Slowly, with full eye contact, she flicked her tongue out and lapped it away, tilting her head back, her chin up.

What more invitation did he need?

Something snapped- all good sense- wisdom and care tossed aside...

Startling her, appearing more to fall rather than making any controlled descent, Skinner covered her mouth with his, stealing her breath away. She moaned in sweet surprise and heard him echoing her sound, feeling his weight press against her, his fingers plunge into her hair.

She gathered herself up closer to him, fretfully freeing her arms from under him to throw them around his neck. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, his palm pressing against her scalp urging her more deeply into the kiss, his tongue parting her lips.

Urging was needless, her entire body was singing.

In a furious sudden gesture, he drew back, rearing up onto his knees, his back straight, his torso stretched and towering over her as he yanked his shirt off. He threw it wantonly from the confines of the tub, looking after it as it hit the floor, then back down at Scully. There was a deranged look in his eyes and his mouth- his jaw, was working in his furious deliberation to continue.

With singular strength she never believed herself to possess, Scully lifted her torso and peeled the wet tee shirt off over her head. Dropping the garment over the tub side she left her arms up over her head, stretching her body out before him, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis into his groin, offering herself fully.

"Hmmm?" She questioned him, her eyes half lit and beckoning him.

A brutish growl issued from deep in his chest, his answer his hands dropping onto her stomach, his fingers raking down across her hips and hooking the band of her panties...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again, with the "Oof!"

Scully straightened and could have sworn his eyes were crossed. Some dark mischievous part of her nearly laughed at the sight.

Misjudging distance, Skinner reclined perhaps a little quickly, a bit too eagerly accepting her offer to clean up the spill of rice in his bare lap and promptly banged the back of his skull against the headboard.

"God," she declared just looking at him dumbly, "are you all right?"

He rubbed his head, blenching.

"Couldn't be better..." he replied and after a moment he looked at her with a wry smirk, "but I think we need to begin immediate medical procedures to reduce swelling..."

"Really?" she grinned, and without breaking eye contact began to caress the inside of his thigh.

He scrunched down into the bed, closing his eyes and taking a shuddered breath as her fingers traveling lightly over his skin and brushed ever so softly over his hair, teasing every she passed over.

Blood coursing, he began to throb and reacted to the sensation by thrusting his hips up with the desperate hope of making full contact with her hand.

"Hold on a second," she abruptly said, suddenly taking her hand away and turning from him.

Complete and unendurable frustration overwhelmed him. "What-Where are you..."

"I've got to get rid of this plate before we're rolling in Moo Shu..."

"I've already got rice all over me, what difference does..." he broke off, she was already off the bed, clearly not listening to him.

He blew out a tremendous gust of air, feeling like he would explode.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bathroom mirror reflected their frenzied dance, and they liked the quick, transient snatches they caught of their own images; clumsy and bungling scrambling, groping and grabbing, sordid and guileless- the starved served a feast.

Interruption came but once when all but the sink faucets were savagely cleared from the counter top, swept aside— a shower toiletries clattered to the floor.

Scully squeaked; the countertop cold against her bottom when he deposited her up there. Her legs spread and wrapped around his waist, her hands roamed his back with rash swipes, her fingers digging into his flesh in anxious response to his fiery touch. She rubbed herself against him, realizing it was his stomach she was slicking her juices and tried lowering herself as much as the counter allowed.

"Wait," he breathed prying his mouth from hers, his hands from her breasts.

He grappled with the band of his sweatpants, trying not to put his full weight down on his foot- they hadn't quite gotten around to getting the glass out, exactly. Fevered, she reached down to help free him, working blindly with her face buried in his chest, her hands tangled with his.

Maybe a little too anxious, she jabbed him with a thumb nail in the process of stripping him bare, causing him to jump and take a step- pressing the sliver of glass home.

Yelping, hissing, he brought his foot up and hopped back trying to catch hold of the door jam.

Scully covered her face, unable to bear watching him fall out the door, his sweats pulled down around his knees. Once she heard the thud, the unmistakable sound of his full weight hitting the floor, she jumped off the counter to her feet.

"I think someone's trying to tell us something..." he panted, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling, his exposed erection struck up like a spire.

She looked at it in light of the bathroom; thinking the only thing missing here had been a “boing!” sound effect.

"I can't hear anything," she whispered, dragging his sweats the rest of the way off before slithering along his outstretched body. "How's your foot?" she asked him and deliberately let a breast graze the dew dolloped head of his penis.

"What foot?" he muttered reaching down to capture her under the arms and hauled her fully atop him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rice brushed from himself and the sheets, his brief consideration to take matters into his own hands was interrupted as she collapsed into the bed beside him. Without hesitation, leaving no room for any further interference, he gathered her up in his arms and rolled over, pinning her beneath his weight.

He heard her catch her breath for the umpteenth time, the sound propelling his excitement, invigorating his want.

He bathed her neck with impatient kisses, plunging down over her collar bone to her breasts, first flicking at her nipples with his tongue then suckling as he wedged his knee down and eased her legs apart. He slipped a freed hand between them, touching her, slicking his fingers in the wetness, tracing the sensitive skin surrounding her folds, feeling her body instantly react.

Gulping in air, she strained against his weight, trying to rock herself against his fingers.

He satisfied her desires, separating her, slowly exploring, seeking and learning the map of her body, the places he would touch that caused her to shudder.

She caught her breath, and he knew; beneath his fingertip, hard and like the tinniest, he brushed and pressed, in rigid circular motions. Alert to her every breath and motion, he increased and decreased the pressure, savagely keeping her on the brink of orgasm.

"Please," she begged him, her body writhing with blind yearning. "I want you in me so bad..."

Hearing her breathy plea, the nastiness of her statement, he groaned as a whole new level of arousal surged through him. "You're so wet..." he exclaimed, dragging ragged breaths in as he positioned himself between her legs, almost unable to see straight.

She had already opened herself to him, pumping herself upward repeatedly, rocking her hips. "Fill me up again, please..."

"Oh, Christ..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 16

Sunday Evening

The snow had stopped falling, but the melt was far off...

The balcony enclosure was packed full of fluffy white that blanketed the city. According to the news the airport could reopen soon, flights were delayed of course, but at least people would be able to get back into DC if they had so desired to travel during the three-day weekend- those lucky enough to have Monday off...

* "... You were right, I was wrong. You said good-bye, I said goodnight...

It's all been done. It's all been done..." *

Music was blaring from in the living room.

Scully had the stereo turned up high and was dancing around the furniture carelessly.

Skinner had come out of the kitchen ready to scold her, demand her to lower the volume- God knew he'd had enough happen in this apartment to piss the neighbors off- but seeing her flinging about in his dress shirt, bare buttocks exposed with every twirl, he just couldn't bring himself to do anything other than go to her.

Nearly forty-eight hours together without a break, out of control and not giving a damn about the consequences, and her ability to ignite his hunger with a single word or gesture had not diminished

* ".... It's all been done. It's all been done!" *

He heard those lyrics and thought how nothing could have been more appropriate for the occasion, as he glanced at the hand cuffs dangling from his right wrist, then, his bareness, unable to remember exactly when he'd had clothes on the last time this weekend.

It had been too long for the two of them, that fact was more than obvious. They had gone beyond good judgment, thrown all caution to wind and had some of the best sex he could remember ever even contemplating. Good, fantastic, ungoverned, gleeful all-over-the-place, rug burn, clear-the-kitchen-table, chafing, leave-your-DNA-sample-at-the-door sex.

He caught her around the waist from behind in mid twirl, spinning her the rest of the way around, pulling her to him and kissing her in a motion so fluid, so natural, it surprised him.

She swayed in his embrace, returning the passion, her tongue exploring his mouth with all the delight of their first kiss, tasting him as though for the first time. An overwhelming sense of renewed longing rapt her, and perhaps it was that all the eagerness, the unbridled impetuosity gradually tapered and left between them unhurried tactile study, a savoring of the kiss that had suddenly taken on a decidedly tender and compassionate bearing.

* "If I put my fingers here, and if I say "I love you, dear"..." *

Something changed then. A tug, a pull, a touch, a caress... Something shifted, and all the wildness disappeared.

They parted, gaping and staring at one another, shocked and dismayed. In an instant the unpleasant knowledge that their time together was coming to an end passed between them. He touched her face, traced the curve of her neck and chin, feathered his fingers over her cheeks and brushed her hair back from her face, searching her eyes, studying her face as if to memorize every nuance.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes, enjoying his touch... until the handcuff clipped her clavicle. She shrunk away, whimpering against the unexpected pang.

"I've got to get these off before the delivery boy gets her," he told her, smoothing over the area the cuff had hit.

"He won't be here for a while in this weather," she said and grinned as she coaxed him to the floor with her.

She laid back flat on the floor looking up at him with a smile. Fumbling against the dangling cuff he worked to unbutton her shirt. Finished, he drew back the folds slowly, baring the smoothness of her torso, the fullness of her breasts, the cinnamon tuft of curls covering her inviting mound.

Her skin tingled with pleasure and anticipation as he ran his hands languidly over her stomach, her ribs. Closing her eyes, she moaned softly when he reached her breasts, pulsations coursed through her lower body, stifling her breath. Sightless, instinct driven, her hands went to him, passing over the incredible heat of his body, lavishing in the feel of his skin against her palms, the tickle of soft hair that trailed up his stomach, the texture turning coarse as she reached his chest and the well-defined swell of his pecs.

Enraptured, she inhaled sharply, feeling him slipping his hardness torturously slow over her, flirting penetration, slicking up and over her, discharging through her a fierce jolt of pleasure. She surged up, thrusting her hips toward him, sensing him trying to back away, knowing he wanted to make the moment last, but she couldn't wait.

Surrendering, he dipped into her, filling her, pushing deep inside. She was burning him up inside her, swallowing his strength as she constricted her muscles around him, drawing him to the brink of climax. Needing her to join him, wanting her to climax with him. As if sensing this, she reached down where they had become one, stroking herself, equaling his rhythmic strokes within her.

Staggered, half moans issued from her throat as she tilted her head back, feeling the wave of tightness beginning in her stomach, the seizure crawling through her insides, drawing the muscles of her vagina so taut for a brief moment she felt as though she could lose control, the sensation so intense.

Concentration shifted to a perverse level as they surged together, driving each toward orgasm with more forceful thrusts, matching the harshness of their ragged breathing. Paralyzing in suddenness Scully felt herself succumbing. She gasped in response to the twinges, the liquefied heat of him pumping his orgasm deep inside her.

His strength drained he collapsed over her, finally lowering his torso from its rigid up right position, bracing himself on his elbows. The sudden move caused him to slip from her and sent a shudder through them both. He buried his face against her neck, his breath was hot across her shoulder. She shivered as little aftershocks raced through her.

He muttered something and despite the closeness of his mouth to her ear, she couldn't understand him. "What is it...?" she wheezed a little, her hands absently messaging his shoulders and back, perspiration across his back cool to her touch.

He lifted his head just enough to speak, his voice spent, "I said, what have you done to me?"

Feeling flattered, she offered a breathless giggle in response and ran her fingers over his head, feeling the perspiration on his bare scalp, the dampness along the sides as she raked through his closely cropped hair.

She was beginning to sense a possible rug burn along her spine and tail bone when he finally lifted his weight from her and rolled to his side facing her, still touching her body with his. They laid together content and tried to ignore the stereo blaring music through the living room around them. For the moment this was their private oasis, a patch of earth untouched by any other than themselves—

Rambunctious, cop-like knocking suddenly erupted through the front door.

That was, of course, except for the delivery boy.

Invigorated with a new energy, Skinner came off the floor as if caught in the act- well, nearly- snatching the throw rug from the easy chair, wrapping it around him as Scully sat up pulling his shirt back together over herself. "Where's my wallet..." he began muttering, hunting blindly around without his glasses.

"The kitchen bar- the counter thing," she stammered and pointed toward the dining area. "Over there, I think."

He staggered forward, his legs quivering as he called toward the door, "just a minute!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the door came open he wasn't quite sure what to think, or say for that matter. Was there really anything he could say?

The epitome of disheveled, Walter Skinner stood in the open door looking back at Mulder with what hair he had standing straight out from his head as though he hadn't combed it all weekend, a throw rug precariously wrapped about him and a wad of money clutched in one outstretched hand that just happened to be sporting a set of cuffs.

Mulder stared back at his superior, awestruck.

"Uh," he said trying to process this quickly, get past it even quicker, "I've, uh, been trying to call you since Saturday, but your phone's been busy."

“I’ve been on-line." Skinner shot back, unruffled- outwardly.

"For two days?"

"I was downloading a big file."

“Must have been some big file…”

"Do you have enough mone—" Scully appeared and jumped, her question bitten off at the sight of Mulder just past Skinner's arm. Dumbly, she actually jumped back behind Skinner for an instant, hiding from her partner.

Mulder took a step back, a lop-sided grin smeared over his mouth. "I guess this answers that—"

"Mista' Skinna'," a voice came from behind Mulder and made them all jump.

A fresh-faced young Asian man poked his head around the corner, grinning immediately and holding up a huge brown bag. "House of Wang," he announced.

"You got that right," Mulder muttered.

Skinner shoved money at the delivery boy and snatched the sack from him.

"Lots of extra wonton for you, Mista' Skinna'," he declared graciously and started counting the money. "You’ve been very good customa' this weekend."

"This is wrong on just so many different levels..." Mulder muttered, shaking his head at the scene playing out before him.

"Thanks.. thanks a lot." Skinner's cool facade was beginning to crumble as he handed the bag off to Scully still cowering behind him.

Pleased with his tip, delivery boy gave them all a quick salute and was gone.

The silence stretched to the breaking point between the three of them before Scully finally poked her head out form around Skinner to ask Mulder, "Did you get married?"

He shook his head, shifting his gaze between them for so long that Skinner was ready to shut the door in his face if he didn't say something soon— Then, finally, shaking his head, Mulder pursed his mouth a thoughtful instant before he told them with an air of whimsical denial, "there's just really no good way to end this, is there?"

Skinner shook his head. "No."

Mulder nodded, thoughtful. "I guess if I say 'I'll see you at the office' that would only intrude on this situation?"

Scully nodded, hugging the delivery bag. "Yes," she said.

Mulder nodded, reflective, then, stepping back from the door, smiling as he went, he said, "enjoy the wonton."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Done. Over. Fin. ~~

~~ A crack PWP production by PR Chung ~~

[gay-mooshrooms]

Hey guys!

Wanted to drop some of my DSMP headcanons just for funsies.

Some of these are more popular/common than others and some might be cannon I have no clue

Niki taught almost everyone in lmanburg how to bake. Eret was really good, Wilbur was ok, Tommy and Tubbo struggled, Jack wasn’t good but did it with her the most, and Fundy was decent. She eventually taught the members of the syndicate too, Techno sucked but enjoyed it, Ranboo was really good, and Phil was better at cooking but wasn’t horrible at baking.  

Wilbur was the one who wrote most of the anthem, but Tommy helped with the lyrics. Niki made the flag. 

Ghostbur made gardens everywhere, especially around lmanburg and the lmanburg crater, and eventually Phil and Tommy started helping him.

Ranboo and Tubbo have matching earrings and wear their marriage rings on their horns. Ranboo has a long tail that he uses to pick up Michael. Techno helped Ranboo make his crown. 

Wilbur loved writing songs for his friends, but Tommy listened to them the most. Wilbur left him the sheet music and a guitar when he left for Utah. 

Ranboo and Tubbo would often give Michael to Phil whenever they had to go out. Most of the time Techno would help out and eventually started teaching Michael how to fight, much to Ranboo’s dismay. Tommy would help sometimes, Phil forced him to come the first few times but he started to enjoy it after Michael started doing crafts with him, now he’s teaching Michael how to draw. 

Tommy likes doing art, Niki helped him learn and does it with him when he wants.

Niki and Eret make clothes together, Niki knows how to sew since she made the L’manburg flag and taught Eret. They like making dresses and skirts.

There's a way to travel between servers like what happened with Empires and Hermitcraft, it's practically magic and some people can do it. Karl does, he just doesn’t know it. 

Niki started a pressed flower collection and eventually Tubbo started helping her find them and started a collection of his own. 

Cus Phils a bird hybrid on both dsmp and origins, he can't see glass. This has led to a lot of the glass being replaced with colored glass after he got a concussion flying into windows too many times.

Techno's a piglen/pig hybrid so he can smell and hear really well but he struggles with eyesight so he wears glasses and loud noises/overlapping sounds cause him stress. This is part of why the voices affect him so much. He had beeswax in his ears during most of the big fight or explosion scenes to help with the sound stuff. Has tough skin literally and doesn't get wounded or burned as easily as the average person. Also has a very heightened sense of smell and can tell different people apart and where they are from a ways off. Part of how he calms himself down if the voices get too overwhelming is comforting scents and counting what he can smell.

Because of Ranboo's enderman half, people can't look directly into his eyes without getting dizzy or nauseous.

Part of Ghostbur's blue comes from Forget Me Not's, which grows under his eyes like tears and out of the wound in his chest.

Let me know what you think of these and if you want more!

[archoneddzs15]

Sega Mega CD - Lunar 2: Eternal Blue

Title: Lunar 2: Eternal Blue / ルナ エターナルブルー

Developer/Publisher: Game Arts / Studio Alex / Studio Deen

Release date: 22 December 1994

Catalogue No.: T-45074

Genre: RPG

Working Designs' final contribution to the Sega CD in the USA, and it's a glorious ending chapter. The finest RPG for any 16-bit CD-based system!!  Lunar Eternal Blue is a must-buy for any Mega CD owner interested in Japanese gaming. True it's an RPG and you may not be able to understand Japanese, so you'll miss half of the plot but it's Lunar Eternal Blue!

The events of the game take place a hundred years after those of the first Lunar. You control Hiro, a young treasure hunter who likes exploring various caves and ruins with his trusty companion, the wise-cracking pink flying cat Ruby (who claims to be a baby dragon). One day he meets a mysterious blue-haired girl named Lucia. She explains that she has come from the nearby Blue Star and now needs his help to defeat a dark being called Zophar. Bewitched by the girl's beauty, Hiro agrees to help Lucia and soon finds himself opposing the ruling religion of the world, and shadows from the past.

While Eternal Blue doesn't offer anything new and revolutionary to the RPG genre, it does provide a solid, traditional JRPG experience. Furthermore, it improves nearly every aspect of the original. No longer is the story about some childish "I want to be a hero!"-type adventure gone wrong, but it's a tale of a world in peril, with many plot twists and revelations that keep you playing, and a cast of interesting characters that have far more depth than the rather static ones in the original.

The graphics in the game are also quite good for its time. The character/enemy sprites and locales have a decent amount of detail, and the animated cutscenes really show what the Mega CD was capable of as a console. The music in the game is good as well, and in my opinion is nearly on par with some PS1 RPG soundtracks. Finally, the localization quality of this game is top-notch. With voice acting and tons of cool 90s pop culture references, the localization gives a certain liveliness and sense of humor that no other game at the time had. Game Arts, Studio Deen, and Studio Alex really outdid themselves with this title. For its time this was years ahead and Game Arts knew that since they later re-made it on the Saturn. Beautiful animation scenes, voice-driven dialogs, and wonderful music make this a truly magical experience.

Unfortunately, every single gaming store around the world knows this which results in Lunar Eternal Blue on the Mega CD being quite expensive. I've seen this on sale for as much as the price of a fully loaded 1TB iPhone 15 Pro Max (RM 8,500)!! That's more than many shooters on the Saturn sell for. Luckily, I got this copy with a set of other goodies including my current basketball, earbuds, Sonic keychain, and shoes for less than RM 650 (^v^) Quite a lot for a 16-bit CD RPG, but anyway. I'm absolutely happy.

The game comes complete with world map and a CD single that features two vocal tracks and a short radio play. This Premium CD single is not included in the Working Designs American release. The tracks are:

1. Lucia and Lemina's Conversation 1 / ルーシアとレミーナの話その1 (duration 3 min: 33 sec)

2. Money is #1 / お金がいちばん♥ (duration 3 min:35 sec)

3. Lucia and Lemina's Conversation 2 / ルーシアとレミーナの話その2 (duration 1 min:40 sec)

4. Eternal Blue ~Eternal Sentiment~ / ETERNAL BLUE ～永遠の想い～ (duration 6 min:05 sec)

5. Lucia and Lemina's Conversation 3 / ルーシアとレミーナの話その3 (duration 1 min:12 sec)

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #222

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? I mean... compared to the lives of ordinary adults my age, that would be most days for me. I have nothing but free time and I'm not exactly skilled at putting it to good use.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? I firmly believe I have, at the bare minimum of twice. I think an old home of mine was haunted or some shit, weird things happened there.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? Hell if I know. I'm sure it was while traveling, though.

What museums have you visited, if any? I literally think I've only visited one, the local one in my city... which is abysmally depressing to say. I love the idea of museums, and the one we have here is immensely sub-par. I would love to visit a good one, especially one with fossil displays.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? No, thankfully. I mean, our current neighbor's dog doesn't shut up half the time, but unless I'm not listening to something in the spare room (the room closest to where she is in the neighbor's [fenced] yard), I don't hear her in here.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? No.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I suck at all math. According to the autism eval I took, I apparently need an IEP in mathematics. During my last college attempt, I literally failed ALGEBRA ONE miserably, but I will say I really didn't like how my teacher taught, he was all about weird shortcuts. Even when I tried tutoring though, I was humiliated that just nothing made sense. It's a bit strange, though; up through high school, I could handle math, but it was always my weakest subject. I wasn't an A student in it. I just go so much worse when I left high school. I don't know if it could be the results of overmedication (which I hold responsible for my memory issues), trauma (trauma can have effects you wouldn't guess, and I firmly believe it altered how I process information), or what.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? I get excited. I love music, so it's something to bond over.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? "In a sense. Sometimes you're just in the right place at the right time, or "the stars align." But as a force, not really." <<< Literally this.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Only if the food is messy, and I don't generally like eating messy food anyway because *I* don't like getting messy.

Have you ever considered going to art school? I went to the Art Institute of Pittsburgh Online and got scammedddddd <33333

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? My sister's shitty husband.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No.

Are your parents supportive of you? Yes. Mom WAY more actively than Dad, but.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never.

Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No.

Do you have the right time set on your microwave? Yes.

Do you have any old newspaper articles? Why? No.

Do you have a flat screen tv or just a regular box? We have a decently large flat-screen. It's not something we could ever afford now; it's as old as when my parents were still together.

Do you have a radar detector for your car? No.

Have you ever been arrested? For what? No.

Do you know how to change the oil in your car? Nope.

Do you like Tootsie Rolls? I don't.

Are you seeing anybody currently? I've been dating the same someone for almost three years now.

Do you like it when it snows? I fucking love when it snows. It doesn't happen often here. It sticks even less often.

Where do you do most of your shopping? Walmart.

Do you have a big yard? Big no, the front and back are very small.

Do you live in the country or the city? A development just outside a city. Still basically city.

At what age did you obtain your driver license? I'm 28 and still don't have it; I probably never will. It is better for me and everyone else on the road. I WISH I could drive, but it's just not a safe option right now.

What are you favorite kind of chips? Hot crunchy Cheetos

Where did you go today? My primary doctor for a check-up. Our car is still toast so we were lucky enough that they offered transportation.

Are you sleepy right now? Extremely. I stayed up way too late last night to have to wake up early like I had to.

What color is your mousepad? Black.

Do you get your eyebrows waxed? No. I don't care enough.

Has anyone given you flowers recently? Not recently.

Has anyone you know been arrested recently? No.

Do you have more than 1 email address? Yes.

Do you have central heating and air? Yes. Especially this time of year, I'd fucking die without it.

Are there any plants in your house? There's a decent amount because of Mom. I think it's mostly pothos.

Do you prefer cold or warm weather? COLD

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid, I hate bar soap.

Do you wear any perfumes/colognes on a regular basis? No.

Do you have high or low self-esteem levels? Abysmally low.

When was the last time you listened to a song on repeat? What was the song? Um... I feel like it was a good few days ago. "Zwitter" by Rammstein.

Do you like mint or orange-flavored chocolate? Mint, yes. I don't feel like I've tried orange-flavored chocolate. I can imagine myself not liking the combo, but I can't guarantee that.

When was the last time you burnt your mouth from eating something too hot? Around a week ago when Mom made chicken fried rice.

What is your favorite foreign language to listen to? (In music or speech) I like how German sounds, but I also think I have a bias because when I hear it, I like to see how much I can translate.

Do you prefer instrumental songs or ones with lyrics? Lyrics.

Name something simple that makes you happy. A cold drink when I'm really thirsty. Sunrises and sunsets. The sound of rain. I'm very pleased that I'm pretty good at identifying small happinesses.

What is your favorite instrument to listen to? Electric guitar, violin, harp, piano, lots others.

Pick one: Books, movies or music? Music.

What was the last book you read about? It was a book in the Warriors series, in the "A Vision of Shadows" arc. The books are pretty thick with various events, but the primary plot was the Clans coming together to oust an invasion of murderous rogues that nearly destroyed their way of life.

When was the last time you used a quote from a movie in real life? I don't really do this unless I'm joking and making an obvious reference. I don't remember what it was anyway, though.

Can you put your legs behind your head? Hell no.

Do you forget things easily? You would not BELIEVE how horrendous my memory is. Like it is unfuckingreal. I feel like being overmedicated for so, so long is the reason, it just ate away at my brain.

The last song you listened to: Did it have a male or female vocalist? Male.

Have you ever had braces? Do you need them? I did as a pre-teen/teenager.

What does your voice sound like? (Loud, quiet, high-pitched, etc) I think it's somewhat deep for a woman, but not to where it sounds traditionally masculine. I tend to stutter and I can either talk too quietly or, if I'm excited or in some way passionate or just confident in an explanation, I've had it pointed out I speak too loudly.

What was the last topic you read about on Wikipedia? So I opened the page to Kamala Harris's political policies, but I promptly left it and read on a platform that isn't edited by random-ass people and wouldn't be rife with biases. I feel like in light of... recent events, I need to be more aware than ever of the policies of people who have a chance of having a say in my country's politics. I don't like Biden (But DO NOT BE MISTAKEN, I hate Trump a HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL of a lot more), but I have this hope that maybe Kamala will replace him. How, figure it out yourself.

Have you ever donated money to Wikipedia? No, that would be so low on my priorities of things to donate to if I even had money.

What board games did you play when you were growing up? A lot of Cranium brand games, Candyland, Life (modified rules to be easier for kids), Monopoly (modified rules for same reason), Mouse Trap (ngl we mostly played with the parts than the actual game haha), Operation, Checkers, I had a Crocodile Hunter game I loved, Battleship, lots of others. We had a big stock of board games to choose from.

Do you know any sign language? No.

When was the last time you bought new clothes? What did you get? Holy hell I have no idea.

Do you ever watch streamers on Twitch? Hazelnuttygames, sometimes. She's a WoW streamer.

Has your house ever been broken into? How did you find out? There was an attempt at my childhood home, but they didn't get in.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? Generally cereal.

Are you overwhelmed right now? Ha! Not as bad as I was yesterday. I reached a capacity of stress yesterday that for the vast majority of the day, I completely shut down. I don't remember the last time I was that stressed because of just everything going on in my life and in my country.

Did you share a bedroom with someone when you were growing up? My younger sister Nicole, yes.

How many group chats are you in? Do you participate in them much? I'm in one with Mazzy and Tez, and that's the only group chat I truly contribute to. I'm in the Tumblr community's Rammstein Discord, and I talk only rarely because it's just so busy and overwhelming that I get stressed trying to keep up lol.

Are you still in touch with any of your exes? No.

What do you do for work? I am humiliated to be my age (and not considered properly disabled) and not work. I'm trying my best to build a freelance nature photography career, but... that's a monumental task, if I'm honest. But I'm still trying. Freelance art is FUCKING HARD to make a living with.

Were you upset when you found out certain things weren’t real? (Santa, Tooth Fairy…) No. I was old enough by then to have doubted, so I wasn't surprised.

Name something you’re proud of. Brag a little bit. One of my proudest achievements is getting a Daily Deviation on deviantART. It's the biggest honor you can get on the site and is (generally, especially without connections) very hard to obtain.

Which store would you like to win $1000 for? Rebel's Market.

Do you pay any attention to celebrity drama? No. The only celeb drama I've ever paid attention to was when Till from Rammstein was forced into it by a sexual misconduct accusation. He's fucking innocent btw, this is well-supported, but Germany tends to hate Rammstein for unsound reasons and will NEVER cover the positives of the band. Any time his accuser was revealed to be full of absolute bullshit, their popular media never covered it. I don't want ANY assumptions made about me and my stance on sexual assault involving celebrities, you take EVERY accusation seriously and I kept my mouth shut while the investigation went down, I wanted the facts, and the facts are fucking nothing was found that damned Till. I don't defend him because he's in a band that I love, I defend him because of the absolute fucking lack of evidence and the documented bullshittery of Shelby (accuser). If there was actual evidence that Till was a sexual predator, I would drop my support of him so fuckin' fast, I can stake my life on that. I don't fuck with sexual predators, whether I'd originally liked them or not. I don't play that "but that's my homie!!!" game. WOW this was a ramble but I feel very strongly on this, it was such an ordeal.

What popular food do you dislike? Fried chicken wings. A LOT of things if I think about it for a moment.

Do you have any cats? Yes, Roman.

How many slices of pizza can you eat in 1 sitting? Rarely two; I usually have three. If I'm incredibly hungry, four. Of course, this does depend on the size of the slices.

[1spy]

1987 | Bon Jovi - "Livin' on a Prayer"

Entering middle school, I didn't really have a musical identity. My folks listened to a blend of oldies, country, and Christian radio. And while I was pretty meh on Christian radio, I decided I liked late 80s country and the oldies station quite a bit. I used to fall asleep listening to KILT country and Oldies 94.5.

Listening to Randy Travis, George Strait, Dwight Yoakum, Reba McIntire, and the Judds on one hand, and The Beatles, Stones, Otis Redding, Supremes, Creedence, and Sam Cooke on the other provided a decent musical education for a sixth grader. I realize now, listening to old people music all the time made me a weirdo for my age.

Although I wasn't a music fan yet, with my own tastes and identity, I definitely had a window into what that might look like. My older sister had band posters on her wall. She had concert tees. It was peak glam metal years, and she loved it. So I kinda liked it too.

My sister had been a HUGE Journey fan as a tween / adolescent. But in the mid- to late 80s, Bon Jovi was becoming the new Journey, and she made the transition, too. The memory of her coming home from the Bon Jovi show and talking about how incredible it was, including the trademark flyover above the crowd was something I've remembered the rest of my life—even if I never emulated it on my own.

Meanwhile, in sixth grade, we had to make a music video for theater arts class where you record yourselves lip syncing to a popular song, and the two other boys in my group decided to do "Livin' on a Prayer." That would not have been my choice, but it indicated to me that Bon Jovi wasn't just a girl thing. The boys liked them too.

The song itself could be the sequel to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing," as the two young lovers who met and teamed up in the earlier song are now fighting for survival under the heavy weight of late-stage capitalism. But both songs invite you to look past the current troubles to a future that can become better, if you only believe in each other and the power of, um, thoughts and prayers.

I don't mean to sound skeptical. I fully and unironically love both bands. And that's something that was true in the moment. Journey's Live in Houston '81 album is committed to memory, and if you don't like it, I will fight you.

And Bon Jovi updated the Eagles' outlaw cosplay with "Wanted Dead or Alive" and the surprisingly decent Young Guns II soundtrack (it kinda holds up). That soundtrack was one of the first 15 or 20 CDs I owned, and Jeff Beck's solo on "Blaze of Glory" absolutely slays.

In my late 20s I caught Bon Jovi's show at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, and they ripped through a classic set in impressive fashion. A tight show in under 30 minutes, and they rocked them all. They are a great band, full stop. Also, props to Bon Jovi for being masters of the pre-chorus that's just as good as the chorus. Example below.

Fave lyrics:

Tommy used to work on the docks, union's been on strike He's down on his luck, it's tough, so tough Gina works the diner all day, working for her man She brings home her pay, for love, mmm, for love She says, "We've gotta hold on to what we've got It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not We've got each other and that's a lot for love We'll give it a shot"

Whoa, we're half way there Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer Take my hand, we'll make it, I swear Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer

[bisluthq]

https://www.tumblr.com/bisluthq/757993134141652992/i-had-completely-forgotten-those-were-his?source=share

Dude why you all taking my ask as it being that deep lol I was half joking half serious. But regardless of that, I do put value into his teacher saying he has a poetic soul. That's not something you usually hear, so yeah it is significant to me. He could have said he was a good student and a good kid.

But like overall it was a joke-y commentary. You don't need to write essays about how Taylor and Matty are creative genius and Joe is just some guy who is a little bit creative but so beneath them talent wise.

We barely even know if his writing is an usual thing or how well he plays instruments. Also creativity in general goes so beyond making music that I don't feel like we know much about his creativity levels overall

we know Joe also draws (we’ve seen his art) and takes photos (we’ve seen his photos). He’s decent at both. He’s a creative dude. He’s also a very good actor (if you like minimalism, which I personally do). We know Matty takes pictures (imho they’re better than Joe’s photography but I think he also tries a bit harder at it) and he curates aesthetics/is into art (like beyond doing little sketches). So idk yes I’d say he’s a more creatively talented person than Joe is based on the evidence I have on hand (their respective artistic outputs). Taylor’s not that into visual art tbh from what we know but she’s a great songwriter, an above average prose writer, and a decent filmmaker/director.

Your og ask didn’t read too jokey tbh and neither really does this one lol.

Joe’s a better actor than the other two (because it’s his job so he should be) and I believe his teachers felt he had a poetic soul but idk that it makes him better at making art than professional artists.

[pinemountainobservations]

Observation: RYM Top 100 Album Cover Review #16

The Velvet Underground & Nico by The Velvet Underground and Nico

PEEL SLOWLY AND SEE

Andy Warhol is one of my top picks for most overrated creatives of all time. I know the whole point of pop art is to be ironic and criticize consumerist culture, but I really just can’t bring myself to care. His work is broadly uninteresting to me, and I’ve never really been a fan of the brand of criticism that says “what if I criticize something by doing… the exact same thing?!?”. That being said, I think sponsoring The Velvet Underground is one of the best things Warhol ever did. They were genuinely experimental for their time and very influential. Their music isn’t my favorite, but it's hard to deny the impact. Also, Nico was a pretty singular artist for her time, and her contributions to this record shouldn’t be overlooked. That’s about all I have to say on the music side of things, I honestly haven’t looked into the story of this record beyond the pretty basic surface level, so I’m not gonna try to give a half-assed opinion on one of the most-discussed albums of all time.

Instead I’ll be talking about the album cover, created by Mr. Warhol himself. Here he puts his signature style into an interesting space, this artwork feels more similar to the abstract and absurdist movements than it does to pop art. I appreciate that approach a lot, this cover is definitely intriguing. And, in its own way, it is very iconic. In terms of underground music and experimental rock, this album’s legendary status has helped it become very recognizable. It’s nowhere near the levels of iconic as Abbey Road or Dark Side of the Moon, but that’s more due to its somewhat underground (and gatekept) nature. But it has the same qualities as a lot of those famous album covers, it’s a very simple and replicable image that can be put on pretty much anything with a white background.

Honestly, this cover has a lot going for it visually and culturally. My one sticking point is, once again, Andy Warhol. He really just had to put his name smack dab on the cover, huh? Couldn’t be content with a credit on the back of the record, no he had to make this album even more confusing to the uninitiated. I’m of the opinion that any text on the cover of an album that isn’t the artist’s name or the title of the album really needs to have a good stylistic reason to be there, and in this case I don’t see a very good reason other than Andy Warhol’s ego. The other text though, “PEEL SLOWLY AND SEE” is great, it once again adds to the absurdist feeling of the art. The whole thing reminds me a lot of René Magritte’s “The Treachery of Images”.

Overall, this is a pretty great cover. Solid artwork, iconic status in the music nerd scene, and a decent usage of text. Andy Warhol’s dumb ass brings this one down a bit, but I’d still call this a 7.5/10

[daburuwosagase]

Miracoro 11/2023 reviews

I wish more works broke out of the "cool overdesigned mc and normal kid with bonkers reactions" mold, but I suppose that's the easy way to start a story.

Vampred: Vampire/zombie story. Most of the chapter was showing off the main character Sol, who's a very nice lad with a cool design. He's got artificial limbs, is malewife material, is unfailingly polite, is half-vampire, has a tragic backstory about being tortured by humans, and yet still believes that they deserve his protection. Not sure about that one, chief. The mc's engineered perfection made a lot more sense once I found out the author is the Bitch Cop Ass guy.

Yamikiri Giri: god i miss doctor dokuta. This feels like a good candidate for its successor. It starts off in the middle of action, which is unusual to see with these oneshots. The protag Giri is the polar opposite of the previous guy, and he may actually be an adult? I had a lot of fun reading this one.

Mikazuki: Basically, "what if Maya channeled Phoenix to solve cases?" The culprit actually came as a surprise. It's definitely a Takahashi-sensei work, and it definitely feels inspired by Ace Attorney. I enjoyed it, but not sure if it's the best pick for serialization. It's the only one that made me actually gasp, though.

Monoshiro: Moves along really fast and therefore wasn't left with time for it to sink in. The premise is lacking. Again, cool designs though.

Gatlin: Great action but lacks substance. The sidekick this time is a girl, which I'll gladly take.

Iroha: Karuta... with a CATBOY. Absolute winning premise. The mc Iroha has almost no knowledge of the poems but has extreme reflexes that let him react to the opponent's movements. The art's pretty intense too. Now this could be interesting if expanded upon.

Monster Parent: Pretty good gag manga. The mc's mom is a literal monster who doesn't get that she's seen as a monster. She orally lays eggs in the supermarket to help her look for curry, because the staff are busy and she doesn't want to bother them. Heck of a sentence.

Shinigami Happy End: Very fresh take to have a shinigami whose primary item is trash bags. The modern reaper is a garbage collector. And he's also a tumblr sexyman who goes from main blorbo form to smexy skinny legend. Kind of scary. Kobayashi-sensei popped OFF with the art. The climax spread is actually *abstract* rather than a physical finishing blow, and it rules.

Sonata: Kinda like Inazuma Eleven GO but with a music club. Featuring instrument avatars. The mc Sonata is not a good musician at all but he's dedicated, so that makes up the difference. It breaks the formula slightly by having a whole club instead of one sidekick, and the mc doesn't already have awakened powers.

Seira: A rich girl's awakening to ramen. It's slower-paced than the others, so the flavor soaks in. Even as a one-shot it's nice.

Kamikakushi: Again mostly action-based, but it could easily pivot to part-mystery. We're getting a lot of girl primary characters in this volume, that's really neat. This time the mc has hammerspace hair. The enemy was decently freaky too.

Kamibukuro Hunter: The art style for the kid in this one is kinda... "how to draw anime". It's bizarre. But she can still emote as befits a gag manga. The premise is kinda one-note here.

Gudegudevil: Gag manga about a pet devil trying to dissuade a kid from doing homework but it's too lazy itself to succeed. Not too exciting.

Isekai Boukensha: It's an isekai. And this time, the protag's an 11yo with a wooden stick. Not my thing.

Onigiri: Gag body humor with a sentient onigiri. Feels kinda mundane, or maybe I'm just worn out by the end of all these pilots.

Top three that I think have potential for more: Yamikiri Giri, Iroha, Monster Parent